Original subtitles

...and since I was the only crew member

who could survive the corrosive atmosphere,

it was up to me to retrieve the data module

and save the day.

Ah, here I am...

mission accomplished.

Ah...

Then, of course there was

the perilous mission to La'voti V.

You remember that one, don't you, Mr. Paris?

How could I forget?

Here you are after your unfortunate slip

into the fetid mud pits of Pala Mar.

Hey, I was pushed.

Of course you were.

Thank you, Doctor.

We've all enjoyed your holo-images enormously.

Oh, but I haven't finished yet.

There's more?

The best is yet to come, Lieutenant.

I've created a fascinating

12-part holographic essay which I call "Under the Skin:

Humanoid Anatomy as Art."

Let's begin with this stunning magnification

of the Vulcan reproductive gland.

Note the composition.

The subtle variations in color.

2100 hours, Commander.

All systems reporting normal.

Acknowledged.

Like I said, it's 2100 hours.

I heard you the first time, Harry.

They've been in there over an hour.

I'm aware of that.

Didn't the Captain ask you to rescue them after 30 minutes?

Harry, you and I were lucky enough

to enjoy the Doctor's scintillating exhibition

for two full hours.

Would it really be fair of us to deny our friends

the same unforgettable experience?

Of course not, sir.

Thank you. Thank you for coming.

We'll do it again soon.

We've still got thousands of light-years to while away.

This could be a weekly event.

What happened to going to Yellow Alert

after half an hour?

Commander Chakotay appears to have disobeyed a direct order.

Definitely grounds for court-martial.

Hey, Neelix.

Coffee?

I could use a whole pot.

Let me guess.

The Doctor's photographic essay?

One mind-numbing image after the next.

Oh, I don't know.

I thought some of those pictures were pretty funny.

You mean like the one where Tom slipped into a mud pit?

You're famous.

Then, of course, there's the one

depicting a certain Chief Engineer

with her foot stuck in a plasma injector.

What?

Really? Well, I seem to have missed that one.

The Doctor must have taken it out of the exhibition.

Oh, I can't wait to get my hands on it.

Maybe I can distribute it to everyone's personal database.

Try it and I'll kill you...

right after I finish deleting the Doctor's program.

What'd you put in this coffee, Neelix?

I'm reading a massive energy wave

900,000 kilometers off the starboard bow,

heading right for us.

Source?

Unknown.

Shields up. Evasive maneuvers.

The wave just changed course.

It seems to be tracking us!

Go to warp 8.

Too late. Engines are down.

Everybody hang on.

All stop.

Shields are holding.

Minor damage to the hull plating on Deck 15.

No injuries.

Stand down Red Alert.

Captain, when the wave hit,

our communications array received a download.

What sort of download?

I'm not sure.

Lots of information.

I can't decipher it, but there's an audio component.

Let's hear it.

Harry, try all the standard decryption algorithms.

It's strange.

The wave followed us,

but it didn't cause any damage.

Instead, we get a download to our database.

I'd say it's a pretty good bet

somebody's trying to tell us something.

The wave left a residual ion trail.

We might be able to locate its point of origin.

Set a course.

Looks like it's taken quite a beating.

Life signs?

One. Nonhumanoid.

It's very faint.

Probably injured.

Beam it to Sick Bay.

Are you sure that's wise, Captain?

I'm betting that message we received

was some sort of distress call

and if we're going to help, I'd rather do it on Voyager.

The physiology is so unusual

the tricorder can't make heads or tails of it.

The creature's obviously injured,

but I haven't a clue how to treat it

or even diagnose it.

My scans came up with something interesting, Captain.

The interfaces on the alien's vessel

can only be activated chemically.

I'm guessing that this life-form

somehow interfaces directly with the ship's systems

using biochemical secretions to give commands.

That would explain how it can fly a ship.

I'm hoping this can also help us figure out...

No! You'll hurt B'Elanna!

Get it off of me!

Janeway to Kim. Beam the alien life-form

back to its vessel now!

I'm having trouble getting a lock.

It's piercing her neck!

Her heart and lungs are seriously compromised

and her kidneys are failing.

The creature's also secreting some kind of paralyzing agent

into her bloodstream.

How do we get it off her?

I can't remove it surgically,

not without doing irreparable harm

to B'Elanna's internal organs.

Can we get a lock on the creature--

transport it off?

Not unless we want to beam

B'Elanna's cardiopulmonary system along with it.

We have to do something!

No one is disputing that, Mr. Paris.

The question is: What?

If I'm to have any hope of devising a treatment,

I'll need to brush up on my exobiology.

What do you mean, "brush up"?

Don't you have all this information in your database?

I may be a walking medical encyclopedia,

but even I don't know everything.

My matrix simply isn't large enough.

Maybe we can do better than giving you

a crash course in exobiology.

Maybe we can provide you with a consultant.

I'd be delighted, but how?

By isolating the computer's exobiology data files

and merging them into an interactive matrix.

- A hologram. - Exactly.

That may not be as simple as it sounds.

It would need to be nearly as sophisticated as I am--

tactile interfaces, personality subroutines...

Harry could do it.

Search the database for a leading exobiologist.

If you want to add a personality,

it may as well be based on a real person.

I'll have Harry meet you on Holodeck 2.

Stay with her and monitor her vital signs.

Call me if there's any change.

I still have my doubts about this, Doc.

It's one thing to create a simple hologram,

but you're trying to merge

an extensive database with an interactive matrix.

Don't be a pessimist, Mr. Kim.

Together, we'll create

a masterpiece of holographic art.

A subject for your next slide show?

- Perhaps. - Can't wait.

What's the name of that exobiologist you chose?

Crell Moset.

Here's the file.

Let's start with the parameters for physical appearance.

Computer, display a holographic simulation

of Crell Moset.

Have you mentioned to anyone else

that this guy's a Cardassian?

What difference does it make?

Maybe you haven't heard.

They're not the exactly

the friendliest folks in the galaxy.

I don't care if he's the nastiest man

who ever lived, as long as he can help us save B'Elanna.

Good point.

Computer, transfer all referenced medical files

to the simulation.

Transfer complete.

Now install personality subroutines

and voice approximation.

Installation complete.

Dr. Moset, I'd like to consult with you

about an alien life-form.

I am Crell Moset,

Chief Exobiology Specialist Cardassia Prime,

...to perform all surgical procedures.

This is going well. What's wrong?

Some sort of overload in the interactive matrix.

Can you clear it up?

I'm trying.

Computer, install a recursive algorithm.

Algorithm installed.

Try it again.

Dr. Moset?

My friends call me Crell.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Crell.

And you, good man, what's your name?

Actually, I'm in between names at the moment.

I'm an Emergency Medical Hologram.

Interesting.

But his friends call him Doc.

Aha. May I presume?

Certainly.

So, Doc, how can an old surgeon like me

help a technological marvel such as yourself?

Oh, well...

I've got a patient with a rather unusual problem.

She's become fused with a nonhumanoid life-form

I know nothing about.

Nonhumanoid exobiology

happens to be one of my specialties.

That's exactly why we've created your program.

Program?

You're a hologram as well.

Interesting.

I'd like to see the patient right away.

Mr. Kim, would you do the honors, please?

No problem.

Listen, if he destabilizes again,

take him off-line and call me.

Understood.

Lieutenant, may I present Crell Moset?

It's a pleasure.

She's been drifting in and out of consciousness.

Don't be rude, Lieutenant.

To him?

No offense, Doc, but he's just a...

A brilliant scientist who's here to help us.

This way, Crell.

Hmm... I can see why you're having difficulty.

Its physiology doesn't match

any of the standard templates in our database.

My guess would be a cytoplasmic life-form.

I agree. And from what I can tell,

it has co-opted her vital systems.

She's Klingon...

No, the cranial ridges are less pronounced.

Klingon-human hybrid.

Exactly.

Let's hope your instincts

about the creature are equally insightful.

I'm afraid

this one is going to require more

than a visual assessment.

You have an isomolecular scanner.

No. Just a standard issue Starfleet tricorder.

No wonder you're having problems making an accurate diagnosis.

I suggested an upgrade to the Starfleet people

at a joint medical conference,

but they assumed I was just an arrogant Cardassian

trying to prove his superiority...

or maybe they thought I was a spy.

I hope you weren't too offended.

It's an unfortunate reality.

Sometimes even enlightened races can't find common ground.

I may be able to recalibrate this thing.

There. That should help.

Amazing.

Well, someone from Starfleet appreciates me.

I've instructed the computer to assign symbols

to all the tones received in the transmission.

Looks like there were over 10,000 separate sounds

used in this section of the message.

It's going to be a tough code to crack.

Maybe we can get a little help

from the alien vessel's data banks.

Good idea.

Janeway to Seven of Nine.

Yes.

Any chance of downloading the alien's data banks?

We're looking for anything

that might help us understand their language.

We don't know how much time B'Elanna has left.

We must move quickly.

The vessel is on the verge of a complete systems failure.

Prepare to download the data.

I heard the Captain.

Is there a problem?

No. No problem.

You seem uncomfortable taking orders from me.

It's just that I'm used to taking orders

from B'Elanna, that's all

and to tell you the truth, she doesn't...

Doesn't like me. Yes, I am aware of that.

However, the Captain left me in charge

during Lieutenant Torres' absence.

Her feelings about me are irrelevant.

Activate the interface transceiver.

Begin the download.

I'm picking up a fluctuation

in the alien ship's power source.

It's disrupting the interface transceiver.

Reinitialize.

I'm working on it.

Its systems are overloading.

Red Alert.

Engineering to Bridge.

The alien vessel is destabilizing.

Its destruction is imminent.

Can you download the information first?

We're trying.

Captain, it's going to explode.

Ensign, back us off.

What do we know so far?

The life-form has taken control of her body

at the autonomic level,

drawing proteins from her tissues,

white blood cells from her arteries.

Which can be interpreted in several ways.

A form of attack.

I find it odd

that a species would evolve an attack mechanism

that would leave it so vulnerable.

Why not do its damage and retreat?

A parasite perhaps?

Yes, I think so,

but not any ordinary variety.

It's unlikely it could sustain itself like this

over the long term.

Its own systems are damaged.

It's doing this as a stopgap measure to keep itself alive.

So the patient's heart, lungs, kidneys--

they're all augmenting the alien's damaged system.

It's using B'Elanna as a life preserver.

But if it needs her to survive,

it's not about to let go without a fight.

I'd like to think that's a fight you and I can win.

We do work well together.

I just wish we had access to my laboratory.

It has all the instrumentation we would need.

Well, we'll just have to improvise.

Not necessarily.

We may be able to create a reasonable facsimile

of your laboratory in our holodeck--

providing, of course,

you can give an accurate description.

Oh, down to the smallest detail.

It's more of a home to me than... than my home.

Tom.

Hey, there.

I can't move.

I know.

But don't worry.

We'll get this thing off you.

Just think.

I could force you to listen to rock 'n' roll all day

and you wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

Who is that?

Relax.

He's just a hologram--

a specialist in exobiology.

The Doc thinks he might be able to help you.

Can't he find somebody else?

Apparently, this guy's the best.

Besides, he's just a walking database.

Hologram or not, he's Cardassian.

As far as I'm concerned,

they're all cold-blooded killers.

I understand how you feel.

Unfortunately, that cold-blooded killer

may be the only one who can save your life.

Impressive.

Mm.

Is this where you did your work on the Fostossa virus?

No. Actually, I was

on Bajor at the time, during the occupation.

A sad chapter in Cardassian history.

We had no business being there,

but try telling that to the politicians.

When I think of the resources that were squandered,

the lives that were lost...

From what I understand, you saved thousands of lives.

In retrospect, I don't know how.

The military had everything they needed,

but the civilian hospitals?

No staff, the crudest equipment...

Don't tell me.

You were forced to improvise.

Yes!

I know what that's like.

I didn't have the resources

to try traditional methods, so I experimented

with procedures that never would have occurred to me

under ordinary circumstances.

The discovery of the cure was almost accidental, really.

You're being modest, Crell.

No.

You made medical history.

You won the Legate's Crest of Valor.

Awards aren't important, Doc.

It's the work that matters.

Of course.

Still, the recognition of your peers, your government

must be very satisfying.

I'm sure you've made your share of breakthroughs.

Naturally. Unfortunately, no one from Starfleet

ever hears about them.

I toil in obscurity.

Why don't you show me your patient records?

At least I'll know about your accomplishments.

All right.

Everything seems to be in order.

Shall we get to work?

Computer, create a holographic re-creation

of the alien in Sick Bay.

Hand me that cortical stimulator, will you?

Yes. Thank you.

Captain's Log, supplemental.

While the Doctor seems to be making progress,

Commander Chakotay and I have hit a wall

in our attempt to decipher the alien message.

It was a distress call, right?

So maybe if we retransmitted that message,

others of the species would realize we need their help.

We don't know where they are.

We'll send it on all subspace bands.

If they're out there, they'll hear it.

They might turn out to be unfriendly.

The Doctor's pretty sure

the alien is simply trying to survive. I agree.

It'll be a difficult first contact,

but we might find a way to communicate.

It's worth a shot.

Tuvok, reroute auxiliary power to the deflector dish.

Retransmit the alien's message on all subspace bands.

Aye, Captain.

Deflector at full capacity.

Chakotay.

I'm sorry.

My wife tells me I'm tone deaf.

Not at all.

You were right on key.

If you enjoy music,

we can run some opera programs after we're finished.

I'd like that.

I think we're ready for a look inside.

Scalpel?

Forgive me for saying so,

but this appears to be a rather crude instrument,

especially when we have such advanced equipment

at our disposal.

I often find the simplest tool is the most effective.

All of our elaborate scanners and laser scalpels--

they remove us from our subjects.

Actually feeling the anatomy,

the consistency of the internal organs,

it can be very instructive.

Why don't you do the honors?

Uh, make a vertical incision, say, 12 centimeters,

starting here.

We're hurting it.

Doctor, it's a hologram.

Of course.

I guess as a hologram myself, I have a certain empathy.

Keep going.

Extraordinary.

Look at that series of nodes.

They appear to be clustered along the primary nerve.

Multiple neocortices, I'd say.

Suggesting a highly intelligent species.

Yes, but also presenting us with a point of attack.

Attack?

If we induce a neurostatic shock in one of these nodes,

I believe it will travel to the others,

the creature will lose motor function

and we'll be able to remove it.

The procedure will probably kill the creature.

Probably.

I'd like to find a way to save them both.

So would I in an ideal situation,

but we have to set priorities,

which, in this case, is your crewmate.

This is a sentient life-form.

For all we know, it could be this species' Einstein,

its Picasso.

Or he could be a psychotic criminal.

The point is, we don't know and we have choices to make.

Your program's destabilizing.

This is such poor timing.

I'll have to take you off-line, but don't worry.

We'll have you up and running again in no time.

Computer, take Medical Consultant Program off-line.

Doctor to Ensign Kim.

Go ahead, Doc.

Our new program's destabilizing.

I'll meet you in Sick Bay.

We'll try to reinitialize him there.

Tabor, I could use some help.

Yes, sir.

Try again.

No luck.

Would it be easier

if we reduced the hologram's memory load?

Maybe, but I don't want

to do that unless we absolutely have to.

What's going on?

My consultant's gone off-line.

The Cardassian?

You can leave him off.

I'm surprised by your attitude, Lieutenant.

I never took you for someone

who would make generalizations based on race.

When it comes to Cardassians, I'm guilty as charged.

I understand your experience with them was unpleasant,

but if you give Crell a chance, I think you'll find

that he's a friendly, compassionate man,

not to mention a genius who's trying to save your life.

I'll skip the introductions if it's all the same to you.

Suit yourself,

but you should know I plan on asking the Captain

to keep him on as a permanent consultant.

I'm not the only one who's going to have a problem with that.

Well, you'll just have to get used to it.

Who knows? You may even grow to like him.

Don't hold your breath.

How's it coming?

We're close.

Actually, I think that should do it.

Good.

Computer, reactivate

Medical Consultant Program Beta-1.

Hello, again.

My God.

What's wrong?

That's Crell Moset.

Yes. Do I know you?

He killed my brother, my grandfather--

hundreds of people.

He's a mass murderer.

You must be mistaken.

It's no mistake.

Moset performed experiments on living people.

Thousands of Bajorans were killed

in his so-called hospital.

Is this true?

No, no. He's...

There must be some misunderstanding.

The liar.

Take it easy, Tabor.

Whoa. He's just a hologram.

I'm upsetting him.

I should go.

I'm sorry about this.

Computer, transfer Medical Consultant Program

to Holodeck 2.

I can still remember the sounds his instruments made...

the screams of his patients...

the smell...

of chemicals and dead flesh.

He operated on my grandfather...

exposed his internal organs to nadion radiation.

It took six days for him to die.

I promised myself I would never forget.

You were very young.

Is it possible your memory of these events is inaccurate?

My memory's just fine.

He blinded people so he could study how they adapted,

exposed them to polytrinic acid just to see

how long it would take for their skin to heal.

Ensign, the man you're accusing cured the Fostossa virus.

He stopped an epidemic that killed thousands of Bajorans.

By infecting hundreds of people...

so that he could experiment with different treatments--

old, helpless people...

like my grandfather...

because he considered their lives worthless.

How do you know this?

Everybody knew.

I remember some of the Maquis under my command

talking about an infamous Cardassian doctor.

Could these simply have been rumors

spread by Bajorans who hated the Cardassians?

I was there.

I don't understand why this isn't in our database.

The Cardassians didn't exactly publicize

their wartime medical practices.

I wouldn't be surprised if the real Moset went on

to live a normal life.

He's the Chairman of Exobiology at the University of Culat.

We may not be able to do anything

about the real Moset, Commander...

but the program should be destroyed.

Every trace of that man's research

should be deleted from the database.

I had a bad feeling about that hologram

the second I saw him.

Looks like your instinct was right.

I won't let him near me.

You're kidding, right?

No, I am dead serious.

B'Elanna...

If I let that pig operate on me...

I'll be benefiting from other people's suffering.

You're not being rational.

I won't doit.

What's happening?

Her cytotoxin levels are going through the roof.

Pulse is rapid and irregular.

No doubt you've said something to upset her.

What she's upset about, Doc, is your Cardassian buddy.

Tell him.

Tell me what?

She refuses to let him treat her.

B'Elanna, we're very close to a solution.

Do it...

...without him.

I don't know that I can.

Find another way.

She's going into cytotoxic shock!

Two milligrams inaprovaline!

Chief Medical Officer's Log, supplemental.

I've managed to stabilize Lieutenant Torres

for the time being, but the matter of how to proceed

with her treatment remains unresolved.

Isolate data block 0459.

Ensign.

You wanted to see me?

We've been looking for evidence

that might support Tabor's accusations.

Anything?

Actually, that's why we called you here.

It's not looking good.

Show me.

We've been reviewing data

on the Cardassian occupation of Bajor--

the alleged site of Moset's crimes.

Strategic information, log entries kept in battle,

sensor scans from Starfleet vessels-- this, for example.

Requisition records from one of Crell Moset's hospitals.

He was purchasing biochemical agents,

including every known strain of the Fostossa virus.

Of course he needed samples of the virus.

That's how vaccines are developed.

Take a look at the requisition orders.

Moset didn't ask for any of the enzymes

normally required for synthesizing a vaccine.

It gets worse.

Four days after he received the virus samples,

there was a minor outbreak of Fostossa

in the vicinity of his hospital.

Prior to that date,

there had not been a single case in the entire province.

I have to report these findings to Commander Chakotay.

It is curious.

The Borg are accused of assimilating information

with no regard for life.

This Cardassian did the same

and yet, his behavior is tolerated.

Ah, there you are.

I'm almost ready to begin the surgery.

Lieutenant Torres won't allow you to have anything to do

with her treatment.

Because of that Bajoran?

We've gathered some corroborating evidence.

It appears that he's telling the truth.

You committed a series of atrocities

during the Cardassian War.

Thousands of Bajorans died on your surgical tables.

That's absurd.

And even if it were true, I'm only a hologram

and I have no memory of those events.

They're not part of my programming.

But you are the holographic representation of Crell Moset.

Your program, despite all its brilliance,

is based on his work.

He infected patients,

exposed them to polytrinic acid, mutilated their living bodies

and now we're reaping the benefits of those experiments.

Medically, ethically, it's wrong.

What do you suggest we do about it?

I'm not sure.

We may have to delete your program.

Delete me?

What about our patient?

I suppose I'd have to try and treat her on my own.

No offense, but you need me.

I realize that.

You're a physician.

You know there's always a price to pay

for the advancement of medical science.

Sometimes that price is too high.

Torture?

Your word, not mine.

I cured the Fostossa virus, didn't 1?

So these experiments you say I conducted

obviously helped me devise a treatment.

Imagine how many lives would have been lost

if I hadn't eliminated this disease.

That doesn't justify

using people in laboratory experiments.

As I explained to you,

during the occupation, I was forced to improvise.

I used what resources I had.

And ethical considerations, they mean nothing to you?

Ethics are arbitrary.

How do you suppose your own database was developed? Hmm?

My God, half the medical knowledge acquired on Earth

came through experiments on lower animals.

But not people.

It's convenient to draw a line

between higher and lower species, isn't it?

This is the 24th century, Crell.

Your kind of barbarism ended a long time ago

or, at least, it should have.

What difference does it make

how long ago the research occurred?

What matters is that we can use it

to help patients today.

Now, are you going

to delete my program and all of the research it contains,

or are we going to use it to save B'Elanna's life?

Come in.

Commander.

This request of yours to be relieved of duty--

I won't grant it.

I have the right to resign my commission.

For what reason?

Moral objections to this ship's medical policy.

I understand how difficult this is for you,

but you've got to let go of the past.

Focus on today, and today, B'Elanna's life is in danger.

Everything else should be put aside.

You don't have the right

to violate the memory of my family.

As long as that Cardassian hologram is on line,

that's exactly what you're doing.

It's not that simple.

It is to me.

Crell Moset killed thousands of people in his hospitals.

As long as we're willing to benefit from his research,

we're no better than he is.

If I had weeks, or even days,

maybe I could come up with an alternative,

but time is of the essence and Moset's idea will work.

Then you've got to use it.

Even if the Doctor could perform the surgery

without Moset's help,

he'd still be using the man's research.

That would be going against B'Elanna's wishes.

We're talking about a woman

who has alien tendrils sapping the life out of her.

She's obviously not thinking straight.

On the contrary.

Her concerns are based in logic.

Logic?

If the Doctor uses knowledge that Moset gained

through his experiments, we would be validating

his methods, inviting further unethical research.

We'd be setting a terrible precedent.

We're in the middle of the Delta Quadrant.

Who would know?

We would know.

Fine.

Let's just deactivate the evil hologram

and let B'Elanna die.

At least, we'd have our morals intact.

- Tom. - And you, Chakotay,

since when do you care what Starfleet thinks?

This isn't about rules and regulations.

This is about doing what's right.

Spoken like a true Maquis.

Well, if you'd just set aside your hatred

of the Cardassian for one second...

Enough, Lieutenant.

All right, all right.

The arguments have been made and we're running out of time.

The fact is, you're both right.

But when it comes down to it,

the only issue I'm concerned about

is the well-being of that crew member lying in Sick Bay.

We'll wrestle with the morality of this situation later--

after B'Elanna is back on her feet.

Doctor, you have my authorization to proceed

with Moset's assistance.

Yes, Captain.

Any consequences of this decision

will be my responsibility.

Dismissed.

Thanks.

Scalpel.

Ensign Kim, do you hear something?

Hear what?

A series of high frequencies.

They are getting louder.

Must be those Vulcan ears of yours.

I hear it, too.

Anything on sensors?

It appears to be an alien com signal.

Triaxilating wavelengths.

Origins?

Unknown.

Captain, a vessel just dropped out of warp.

Approaching fast off the port bow.

On screen.

Can we dampen it a little?

Negative.

Harry, tell me that was just their way of saying hello.

I wish I could.

The universal translator doesn't have a clue.

Perhaps they are waiting for our response.

Well, then, let's give them one.

Open a channel, all subspace bands.

This is Captain Janeway

of the Federation Starship Voyager.

We cannot interpret your message,

but please try to understand,

we are on a peaceful mission and we intend you no harm.

We have one of your kind on board our ship.

It's injured and we're attempting to provide treatment.

If you can understand...

I'm ready to stimulate the primary neural pathways.

Cortical probe.

I'm applying it to the primary neocortex.

Its motor control is weakening,

but not enough to release the patient.

Our little friend needs a bigger jolt.

I'm increasing the pulse frequency...

The synapses are degenerating.

You're killing it.

Don't lose your nerve, Doctor--

not when we're this close.

Lower the pulse frequency.

If 1 do that, the creature will regain control.

I don't care. Lower the pulse.

- Doctor... - Lower the pulse frequency

or I'll take your program off-line.

You realize you're reducing our chances of saving her?

Not necessarily.

Give me the probe.

The probe, Doctor.

If we apply the pulse to the secondary neocortex,

we should be able to achieve the same results

at a lower frequency.

Not particularly efficient.

But it might prove interesting.

I'm reading an energy surge in their forward section.

Shields!

Doctor to Bridge. The holodeck's going off-line.

What's happening up there?

Stand by, Doctor.

They've locked on to us with some sort of tractor beam.

It's draining our power.

Reroute emergency power to the holodeck.

Send an antimatter surge through the shield matrix.

See if that'll loosen their grip.

No effect.

We do have weapons.

No. If they wanted to destroy us,

they wouldn't be using a tractor beam.

They're trying to rescue their crew member.

Captain...

This isn't about logic, Tuvok, it's about instinct.

Now, I may not speak their language,

but I have a gut feeling

they don't want an armed conflict any more than we do.

Bridge to Doctor.

What's your status?

The procedure's working.

Almost there, Captain.

It's losing motor control.

The tendrils are withdrawing

from her lungs, liver, kidneys...

The alien's life signs are failing.

We need a substitute for the metabolic energy

it was taking from B'Elanna.

Could we restore its own metabolism?

Perhaps. Give it 40 milligrams of stenophyl.

It's going into anaphylactic shock.

All right.

Increasing the dosage to 60 milligrams...

We've lost power on Decks 7 through 12.

Shields are failing, Captain.

Doctor?

Stand by, Captain.

Anaphylaxia is subsiding.

Its electrolytic reactions are increasing.

Its metabolism is stabilizing on its own.

Bridge, beam the life-form to its ship.

Transport complete.

The alien ship is withdrawing, Captain.

You're welcome.

I've released B'Elanna to her quarters.

Her condition?

Stable, but her nervous system has suffered extreme trauma.

She'll need time to recover-- several days, at least.

Good work.

I should caution you, Captain--

when I told her that we'd used Moset's program,

she was unhappy, to put it mildly.

I nearly had to sedate her.

It sounds like her Klingon temper has fully recovered.

It practically qualifies as a chronic condition.

I'll speak to her.

There's one more topic of concern.

Should we delete the program

or keep Moset in our database for future emergencies?

I'm inclined to leave this up to you, Doctor.

You are the Chief Medical Officer on this ship.

As far as I'm concerned, there's no one

more qualified than you to make that decision.

Thank you, Captain.

But please make it quickly.

I'm eager to resolve this matter.

There's been enough moral controversy

on this ship for one day.

Come in.

At ease.

Interesting fragrance.

I'm surprised it hasn't set off the environmental alarms.

It's a combination of mental relaxant

and expeller of demons.

It's an ancient Klingon remedy.

Feeling any better?

I'm alive.

I hope you can understand

why I went against your wishes, B'Elanna.

Losing you was unacceptable.

I know you're angry, but we need to put this behind us.

Understood?

Is that an order?

Yes.

You can't order someone to get rid of an emotion, Captain.

And what emotion is that?

You had no right to make that decision for me!

I'm the Captain.

You're my crewman.

I did what I thought best.

I get the feeling there are still a few demons in the air.

Let's hope this does the trick, hmm?

Doc...

how's our patient?

Recuperating.

We did it.

Yes... we did.

A celebration is in order.

How about listening to that opera you promised me?

Oh, you're, uh...

still wrestling with your ethical subroutines.

Take my advice.

It's a waste of time.

What's important is that we saved two lives today.

I'm not concerned with today.

It's tomorrow I'm worried about.

Captain Janeway has left your future in my hands.

She believes that,

as Voyager's Chief Medical Officer,

it's up to me to decide

whether your program remains in our database.

Personally, I predict a long and fruitful collaboration

between us.

Oh?

Think about what we accomplished in the last 24 hours.

Our first case was a triumph.

Both patients are thriving

and we advanced the frontiers of medical science.

I've already outlined a paper

that you and I will one day present

to the Federation Medical Academy:

"Total Systemic Invasion of a Klingon-human Hybrid

By a Cytoplasmic Pseudo-parasite."

Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Are we also going to tell them

where you honed your surgical techniques?

A footnote, perhaps--

"For further details, see Cardassian death camps."

Those techniques were crucial this morning.

Where was your sarcasm then?

I didn't come here to debate the issue with you, Crell.

I came here to inform you of my decision.

"It is my judgment that the Medical Consultant Program

"and all the algorithms contained therein

"shall be deleted from the database.

"In light of recent evidence,

"I cannot in good conscience utilize research

that was derived from such inhuman practices."

"In good conscience"?

What about the well-being of your crew?

You're confronted by new forms of life every day--

many of them dangerous.

You need me.

Delete my program

and you violate the first oath you took as a physician:

"Do no harm."

"Do no harm..." you have no right to say those words.

Computer...

You can erase my program, Doctor,

but you can never change the fact

that you've already used some of my research.

Where was your conscience when B'Elanna was dying

on that table?

Ethics? Morality?

Conscience?

Funny how they all go out the airlock

when we need something.

Are you and I really so different?

Computer, delete Medical Consultant Program

and all related files.