All language subtitles for Star Trek - Voyager - S06E24 - Life Line.en

Shuttlecraft Dawkins
to Jupiter Station.

Go ahead.

Uh, this is
Lieutenant Reginald Barclay

requesting permission to dock.

Granted.

What? What is it?

It's me, sir, Reg Barclay.

Come in.

Dr. Z.?

How are you?

Nice of you to finally drop by.

I've been extremely busy--
the, uh, P-Pathfinder Project.

You're still searching
for that ship?

What's it called... Pioneer?

Uh, Voyager.

Voyager.

Any luck?

Actually, uh, we're on the verge
of a breakthrough--

uh, a communications link.

Congratulations.

The first transgalactic
phone call.

Is there any word
from Starfleet Medical?

Oh, doctors.

I've been scanned and
probed a hundred times,

and they still can't
tell me what's wrong.

I'm sure it's only
a matter of time.

I'm dying, Reginald,

and there's nothing
anybody can do about it.

Seven of Nine to the Bridge.

Go ahead.

We're receiving a transmission
from Starfleet.

Route it here.

It's not a com-link, Captain--
it appears to be

a compressed data stream...
badly degraded.

On my way.

They say good things
come in small packages.

This is all the data
they could send us...

until next month.

Next month?

They're using a cyclic pulsar

to amplify signals
from the MIDAS array,

but the cycle only peaks
every 32 days.

So once a month,

we'll be able to receive
a short burst of information,

and we'll have
about 17 hours to respond.

So far, we've gotten

tactical updates,
letters from home,

and news about
the Alpha Quadrant.

I don't suppose they
found us a shortcut home?

It doesn't look that way.

We don't have much time
to prepare a response,

and we'll have

to keep it short,

but I want to give
everyone an opportunity

to send something...

even if it's only
a brief note.

Inform the crew.

- Yes, ma'am.
- Aye, Captain.

Lieutenant Barclay,
the Pathfinder Project...

they didn't give up on us.

So when you write those letters,
you might want to thank them.

Mail call.

A letter? For me?

Oh, it's from
Lieutenant Barclay.

Bad news?

Lewis Zimmerman.

Apparently, he's seriously ill.

Zimmerman?

He's the father
of modern holography.

He invented the matrix
that made my program possible.

Oh. What's wrong with him?

He's suffering from acute
subcellular degradation.

"The doctors here are having
trouble finding the cause,

"much less the treatment.

"I've included
his medical files.

"As you'll see,
the prognosis isn't good.

"They say he's only got
a few months.

"I'm sorry I don't have
better news to report,

but I thought
you'd want to know."

How well did
you know him?

I've never met the man.

If you'd like to
send a response,

the captain will need
it by 1900 hours.

Here's the information
you requested.

Thank you.

You're reviewing
his medical data.

I thought I could send
Starfleet a second opinion.

It's a long shot, but maybe

my experiences
in the Delta Quadrant

could provide some insights.

I was hoping these Borg

regeneration techniques
might help them

develop a treatment
for his condition.

You bear a striking resemblance.

He used his own
physical parameters

as a model for my matrix.

Can't say I blame him.

A doctor needs to inspire
confidence in his patients.

Compassionate eyes
and a strong chin

can go a long way.

I believe I can
help him, Captain.

How?

You remember the Vidiians?

The early stages of the phage

are very similar to
Dr. Zimmerman's disease.

I believe I can adapt a variety

of Borg regeneration techniques

to arrest the cell damage,

maybe even reverse it.

Make sure to pass along
your findings.

Thank you, Doctor.

Actually... I was hoping

to administer
the treatment myself.

What are you suggesting?

I'd like you to send my program
back to the Alpha Quadrant.

None of the doctors

at Starfleet are familiar
with these techniques.

It would take them months
to fully understand them,

much less put them to use.

Even if we could send you,
you're needed here.

Mr. Paris can
take over Sick Bay.

He's more than capable.

We've done this once before.
There weren't any problems.

Three years ago...

and we used alien technology.

I've spoken to Seven of Nine.

She believes we can
compress my program.

There's limited space
in the data stream.

If we send you, there won't be
room for anything else.

I realize I'd be asking the crew

to make a sacrifice
on my behalf,

but they can wait another month.

Dr. Zimmerman
might not have that time.

I'm sorry

he's not doing well.

Unusual man.

I met him once at a conference.

Managed to offend
just about everyone there,

but he was certainly brilliant.

I'm sure Starfleet is consulting

their best physicians,
Doctor.

They are, but no one's been able

to develop a cure.

I have, but I can't
treat a patient

who's 30,000
light-years away.

- I'm sorry.
- Captain...

This is the first time

we're attempting
to send a response.

We don't know if it'll
even get through.

I'm willing to take that risk.

I'm not.

He programmed me--

every algorithm,
every subroutine.

If it weren't
for his years of work,

I wouldn't be standing here.

I owe him something...

and frankly, so does this crew.

In a way, he's responsible
for every life I've saved.

Lewis Zimmerman designed the
template for Starfleet's EMH.

You're one of thousands
based on that technology.

It's not as though
he's your father.

From your perspective.

From mine,
he's the closest thing I've got.

If 1 don't try to help him now,
I may never get the chance.

You'll have to find a way
to convince Tom

to take those duty shifts.

He's already agreed.

Tell him "Captain
Jane" said hello.

That's what he kept calling
me at the conference.

I think he did it just
to get on my nerves.

I've heard he can be...
difficult.

I certainly hope you get
a chance to find out.

Thank you, Captain.

Oh...

My vocal processor...

It's not a malfunction.

I've removed your
singing algorithms.

They'll be stored
in the memory buffer

until you return.

Why?

Your program's too large
for the data stream.

I have to extract all
nonessential subroutines.

They're essential to me.

They're part of who I am.

Are you planning on performing
opera during your visit?

No.

Will you be reciting poetry?

Doubtful.

Hoverball? Holo-photography?

I may want to take a few
snapshots to document my trip.

Sexual activities?

1 get the point.

How much has to be left behind?

12 megaquads.

Hmm.

I suppose you could get rid
of my athletic abilities...

and my grand master
chess program.

That leaves three megaquads.

Your painting skills?

Oh...

If you must.

Try to leave a few
of my enhancements intact.

I don't want to look like
every other EMH on the block.

I think Dr. Zimmerman
will be very interested

to see what I've learned.

He probably never imagined

what one of his own creations
could accomplish.

I could spark a whole new
field in holographic research.

Bon voyage.

See you in a month.

Don't get lost.

If I've told you once,

I've told you a thousand times--
stay off the food.

Haley?

Haley, what's the status
of my lunch?

It's coming, Doctor.

As if things weren't bad enough,
now I'm dying of starvation.

Come in.

Haley...

Mr. Barclay, is something wrong?

No, no, it's just the
opposite. Is he in?

He's not taking visitors today.

Tell him this is important.

He's in a prickly mood.

Oh. I brought something with
me that might cheer him up.

Computer,
is the download complete?

Affirmative.

Lunch.

That's not pork chops.

It's salad.

I didn't ask for salad.

It's healthy.

I'm dying. A piece of meat
won't kill me any quicker.

Give the plants to Leonard.

He's the one trying
to watch his weight.

Lieutenant Barclay
is here to see you.

I told you I wasn't...

He says it's urgent.

Can't it wait till I'm dead?

All right, send him in.

Three minutes--
he's got three minutes.

Be civil to him, Lewis.

He's worried about you.

We all are.

I found a friend

waiting for me
at home.

You don't have any friends.

Well, I guess, uh, you could say
he's a friend of yours.

Please state the nature
of the medical emergency.

An EMH Mark-1?

I'm not in the mood
for nostalgia, Reginald.

But this is the Mark-1

from Voyager.

I was compressed
into a data stream

and transmitted
from the Delta Quadrant.

Congratulations.

I recommend a tour
of Jupiter's third moon.

I hear the lava flows are lovely
this time of year.

I'm not here for a vacation.

I'm here to treat your illness.

You brought a Mark-1
30,000 light-years to treat me?

I was wrong about you,
Reginald--

you do have a sense of humor.

Care to let me
in on the joke?

You didn't tell him?

Tell me what?

Well, Il...

You're obsolete, extinct,

yesterday's news.

My program was retired?

Retired? Not at all.

The EMH Mark-1 was reconfigured

to scrub plasma conduits
on waste-transfer barges!

I've been treated
by the Mark-3,

the Mark-4, not to mention

the finest real doctors
in Starfleet.

None of them could help me!

He has been running almost
continuously for six years.

He has seen more things

than most doctors
could even imagine.

I also have an exceptionally
high tolerance

for difficult patients.

I didn't program you
for sarcasm.

You'll find
I'm full of surprises.

Show the good Doctor
to the plasma generator.

l understand there's
quite a buildup of residue.

If we had more time,

I'd enjoy trading barbs
with you,

but right now, there's
a more pressing concern--

your life.

I'm working on a treatment

based on a disease I encountered

in the Delta Quadrant,
but I'll need to run

a complete analysis.

However, if it's impossible
for you to believe

that a lowly Mark-1 could have
anything useful to offer,

I'll be happy to pack my bags

and go explore
those sulfur mines.

Go ahead...

scan away.

I'll be outside.

What were your initial symptoms?

Radical hair loss.

Fatigue, nausea,
joint inflammation.

Have you traveled outside
the solar system recently?

What's that got to do
with anything?

Just answer the question.

I haven't left Jupiter Station
in over four years.

To your knowledge,

have you been exposed
to theta-radiation?

No.

Neutron flux?

Never.

Have you had intimate
relations with a Bolian?

These are questions first-year
medical students would ask.

I'm just being thorough.

Just being thorough.

Did that creature just speak?

His name's Leonard.

He's a hologram.

Computer, deactivate iguana.

How dare you!

I'm a doctor, not a zoo keeper.

Has there ever been an epidemic
on this station?

No! Enough questions!

Finish your scans
and get out of here!

Doctor...

I said get out of here!

I traveled halfway

across the galaxy to treat you.

The least you could do
is show a little gratitude.

Thank you. Get out of here!

I may be the only physician

who can save your life--
you need me.

Like hell.

I brought your matrix
into this world,

and I can take it out!

I'm no longer a prototype.

I have exceeded my
original programming.

I'm no longer
under your control.

Oh, really?

Computer, transfer EMH
to the living quarters.

How did it go?

Power up the MIDAS array--
I'm leaving!

What... what happened
this time?

I ran a mitochondrial scan.

There was something
odd about the results,

so I spent a full
hour analyzing them,

and what did I discover?

He's a Vulcan marsupial.

He reconfigured my tricorder!

You find that amusing?

A little... well, not really.

Sounds like
you're making progress.

How so?

He only teases people he likes.

Then he must love me.

I take it that you, um,

still haven't been
able to diagnose him.

Oh, on the contrary.

The patient appears
to be suffering

from an acute case of arrogance!

Oh, that's Roy.

Don't tell me-- a hologram?

It was commissioned

by Starfleet Intelligence, uh,

an experiment in
micro-surveillance.

Dr. Z. keeps it around
as a sort of... a pet.

Undercover insects?

Talking iguanas?

This isn't a research station.

It's a three...

ring... circus.

You should charge admission.

Look... look, you know

that we can't send you back
for another two weeks,

so please, just...
just... keep trying.

I can't treat a patient
who won't let me near him.

He's deranged.

What he needs is a counselor.

Finally... I've accomplished
something.

I thought you might be able

to provide some, uh, insight.

It's not that simple, Reg.

Dr. Zimmerman sounds like
a very complex individual.

I'd need to speak
to him in person.

Then maybe I could get him to
agree to a counseling session.

The Enterprise is
in the middle of a mission.

We're nearly seven light-years
from you.

An important mission?

They're all important, Reg.

I could refer you

to Counselor Jenzo,
a colleague of mine on Earth.

I need the best, Deanna.

It would be
an interesting challenge.

Thank you. Thank you,
thank you, thank you.

Don't thank me yet.

I'll still need to clear this
with Captain Picard.

If he agrees, I might be able
to be there by early next week.

I'll see you then.

Come in.

Good morning.

Mm-hmm.

Problem?

I haven't decided.

I've just listened to
a communiqué from Admiral Hayes.

Nice to have friends
in high places.

Hello, Captain.

I hope this message
finds you well.

From what I understand,
it has not been easy,

but I want you to know

that a lot of people here
are very proud

of what you've accomplished.

I also want to assure you
that we have not given up

finding a way to get you home.

We've redirected
two deep space vessels

toward your position.

If all goes well,
they could rendezvous

with you
in the next five to six years.

Computer...

advance to time index 121.4.

...as we get closer

and our conversations
become more frequent.

When you respond
to this message,

please let us know
of any casualties.

I'm sure you've had
more than your share.

I'm anxious to know

the status of your crew,
the Maquis,

first contacts that you've made,
interactions with the Borg.

But there'll be time
for everything.

Our thoughts are with you.

Talk to you soon.

What?

"Status of the Maquis."

Do you find that surprising?

I don't think of you or B'Elanna
or the others as Maquis.

I think of you
as part of my crew.

You may have forgotten,
but we haven't.

You heard the Admiral.

It'll be years before we have
to deal with those issues.

Let's worry about it then.

Do you have lunch plans?

Is that an invitation?

I was hoping you'd help me
compose a response.

You're on.

Doctor, your lunch is ready.

Are you all right?

Fine, Haley, fine.

Give me a few minutes.

Lower.

Ah... perfect.

I needed this.

You have no idea

what I've had to endure
these past few days.

Last night... I woke up,

and I found him hovering
over my bed with a hypospray.

A smattering of photons,
that's all he is.

What's that?

What is that?
A tricorder?

You were scanning me?

Computer...
realign Voyager's EMH.

- You!
- Remain calm.

Emotional outbursts will only
aggravate your condition.

I'll tell you what's aggravating
my condition-- you!

If you'd let me
examine you...

I'll report you to the Medical

- Ethics Board.
- Doctor...

Save it for your hearing!

If you weren't so stubborn,
you'd see

I'm only trying to help.

I don't want your help.
Why won't you leave me alone?!

Because, for reasons
beyond my comprehension,

I care about you.

You weren't programmed to care.

You were programmed
to hold a scalpel.

I told you

I'm not the same EMH
you created six years ago.

Of course--
you can sing and dance.

I should install you
in a Ferengi nightclub.

The Voyager crew
appreciates my attempts

to expand my program.

This isn't Voyager.

It's my lab, and in my lab,

you're still just a hologram!

A hologram you created.

A hologram
who owes you his existence.

Is that what's keeping you here?

Some twisted sense
of obligation?

Well, let me assure you,

you don't owe me anything.

Doctor?

Yes, Haley, what is it?

You have a visitor.

Hello, I'm Deanna Troi.

Which one of you
is Dr. Zimmerman?

Deanna Troi.

Another one of your tricks?

Excuse me?

ow!

He thinks you're a hologram.

I can assure you
I'm quite real.

Oh, well, the last
beautiful woman

to walk in here
turned out to be him.

I'll take that as a compliment.

Hmm.

Did I come at a bad time?

Your timing
couldn't be better.

The patient is suffering
from acute anxiety,

normally associated
with terminal illness.

It's made him
agoraphobic, paranoid,

and extremely antagonistic.

I see.

Mind if I sit down?

Please.

Reg tells me you won't let
the Doctor help you.

He's a Mark-1.
He's obsolete.

I'd be safer in the hands
of a Klingon field medic.

I understand he's developed
a promising treatment.

If you're a Borg drone.

He's threatening to use

some kind of ghoulish
assimilation technique.

It's not fit for a lab rat.

You won't even look
at my research.

From the moment I arrived,
you've berated me,

treated me like
an antique.

Well, let me
tell you something--

antique or not, I took
a huge risk coming here.

I had to plead
with my Captain...

leave my ship
without a surgeon.

Doctor, imagine

that your program was
seriously damaged,

and the only person
who could repair you

was an engineer
from, say...

a hundred years ago.

Would you feel comfortable
with that?

If he were skilled,

intelligent, creative.

Honestly, Doctor?

A hundred years ago?

Well, I suppose it
would give me pause.

Ha!

Now, put yourself
in the Doctor's shoes.

Imagine you were asked
to treat someone

you cared about--

say, an EMH Mark-12.

There is no Mark-12.

But if there were,

and you wanted
to save his program,

he probably wouldn't
let you near him.

He wouldn't care

that you'd won the Daystrom
Prize for holography.

From his perspective,
you'd be out of date.

But what if you knew
you could save him?

Thank you, Counselor,

for extending that olive branch.

I'm willing to see past
our differences, if he is.

All right.

He can start by purging
the plasma conduits on Deck 6.

Dr. Zimmerman...

1 will not put my life
in the hands of a primitive.

You'd need a phaser drill
to get through

that thick skull of his!

Get out!

Gentlemen...

Oh, spare us your psychobabble.

I came here thinking
that you were

opposite sides
of the same coin--

identical, but different.

Now I see you're both
exactly the same.

You're both jerks.

Jerks.

I'm starting to think you called

the wrong Counselor, Reg.

Oh, you'll figure something out.

You always do.

Things are worse now

than when I arrived.

Lewis won't come
out of his lab,

and the EMH is hiding
in a holodeck.

He's feeling homesick.

1-1-1 let him use
my Voyager simulation,

and it seems to be
cheering him up.

A hologram fighting to save
the life of his creator...

who just so happens
to be the same man

his own personality
is based on.

I think I'd need
a whole team of therapists

just to get them
in the same room.

Mr. Barclay says this is
your favorite ice cream.

I hardly deserve it,

but thanks.

You're a hologram.

How do you know?

I'm an empath.

I haven't sensed
any emotions from you.

When were you
first brought on line?

Nine years ago.

No offense,
but you're more antiquated

than the EMH Mark-1,

and yet Lewis seems
to listen to you.

Why do you suppose

that is?

Were you here when
the Mark-1 was created?

Yes.

Any idea why Lewis
made it in his own image?

Maybe you should ask him.

1 did.

He evaded the question.

I was hoping
you might know.

He was extremely proud
of the Mark-1.

He used to dream
about hundreds of holograms

in every corner of the Quadrant
saving lives.

He put so much of himself
into its development.

I suppose
it only seemed natural

that it should look
like him, too.

But the Mark-1

failed to meet
Starfleet's expectations.

He was devastated.

He... he locked himself away

in this lab for two years,

trying to repair
the defects.

Finally, he just gave up,
uh, started from scratch...

a whole new matrix.

The Mark-2.

Followed by the Mark-3

and then the Mark-4.

He... he was obsessed
with perfecting it.

But none of the later models
resembled Lewis.

He made that mistake once.

He wasn't about
to do it again.

And now, after all this time,

a Mark-1 shows up.

It must be like staring
in a mirror

at a reflection
you don't want to remember.

Computer, resume recording.

Last will and testament,
Dr. Lewis Zimmerman.

Let's see, where were we?

Subsection 8:

"The Trojan Horse project."

I hereby bequeath
my latest research

in holographic infiltration
technology

to the only engineer I trust
to complete the work--

Lieutenant Reginald Barclay.

Subsection 9:

"Holographic Art."

I hereby bequeath
my entire collection,

including
the 21st-century masterpiece

Woman in Four Dimensions...

to the person who has
appreciated it the most--

l... guess that would be
Reg Barclay, too.

Subsection 10:

"Haley."

I realize she's only a hologram,

but she's been a loyal assistant
for many years.

I'd like to request

that Starfleet keep
her program running

for as long as
this research facility exists.

She's been as real to me
as anyone I've ever known.

Not that I've known many people.

I've created most of my friends.

Pause recording.

Don't worry, I'll find
a home for you, too.

So this is Voyager.

I like it.

It's a remarkable facsimile,

but Mr. Barclay did get
a few of the details wrong.

For one thing,
Neelix doesn't purr.

I think that may have
something to do

with Reg's cat.

He named it after your friend.

Neelix would be honored.

If you're here for Dr.
Zimmerman's medical files,

I've nearly finished
updating them.

Maybe the next physician
will put them to better use.

Actually...

I stopped by
to ask you to dinner.

I'm a hologram, Counselor.

I don't eat.

I know that, but we'd
still enjoy your company.

We?

Lieutenant Barclay,
Haley, myself...

Dr. Zimmerman.

No, thanks.
Unless that man's eating crow,

I'm not interested.

It's the perfect opportunity

for us to talk things out

in a more casual environment.

Sorry.

Just one meal?

I said no.

Doctor?

Something's wrong.

Troi to Lieutenant Barclay.

Go ahead.

There's something wrong
with the EMH.

Can-can you be more specific?

She's a Counselor,
Lieutenant,

not an Engineer.

Stand by.

What's happening to me?

Your program is destabilizing.

What? Why?

They sent you
30,000 light-years.

l...I should have expected
some problems.

It's not your fault,
Mr. Barclay.

We just need to find a way
to repair the damage.

You don't understand.

Your primary matrix
is degrading,

and there is nothing I can do.

Good riddance to bad photons.

He's dying, Lewis.

He's not dying.

His files are just degrading.

There are people on Voyager
who count on him.

I'll send them a Mark-4.

They're more reliable.

They don't want a Mark-4.

They want their friend.

No EMH was ever designed
to be anyone's friend!

He's just a hologram.

Is that how you feel about me?

Just a hologram?

I will not be ambushed
in my own lab.

Stardate 53292.

My program malfunctioned,

and you canceled
a lecture on Vulcan

and came all the way home
to repair me.

There's nothing worse

than addressing a room
full of pointy-eared blowhards.

I was looking for an excuse
to get away.

You came back
because you cared about me,

just like you care
about the Mark-1.

You just won't admit it.

He may not be perfect,

but he's still one
of your creations,

and right now,
he needs his creator.

Don't turn your back on him.

Computer,
activate Voyager's EMH.

Please state the nature
of the medical emergency.

You're the emergency.

Where's Lieutenant Barclay?

Trust me, you're in
far more capable hands.

You're going
to repair my program?

Who better?

Just yesterday,
you threatened to decompile me.

That was before your colleagues
made me feel guilty.

You're ill.
You're in no condition

to perform delicate procedures.

I'll survive, but you won't

if you don't relax
and let me finish.

What are you doing?

My scans identified

a recursive error
in your pattern buffer.

I'm trying to isolate it.

Is that a fractal algorithm?

Very good.

I'm using it
to realign your matrix.

Fractal algorithms are
notoriously unstable.

In the hands of a novice.

Whoops.

"Whoops"? What's "whoops"?

Computer, deactivate EMH.

Ah...

I-l... I can't move.

I know.

I had to take your
mobility subroutines

off-line.

How long have I
been deactivated?

17 hours.

I'm resetting your parameters.

You don't look well.

You need rest.

I'm fine,

and so are you.

Your program's been stabilized.

l... I'm going to be okay?

No, you're going to be
better than okay.

Now what are you doing?

Welcome to Sick Bay.

How may I help you today?

Well, what do you think?

I think you've altered
my greeting protocol.

That's just the beginning.

I've also added new subroutines

for compassion, patience,
empathy, decorum.

I don't feel any different.

Because I haven't
installed them yet.

I thought you'd like
to be awake for the big moment.

Reginald was right about you.

You have exceeded the
sum of your programming.

You've accomplished

far more than I would
have ever predicted.

But let's face facts.

You never overcame
the inherent flaws

in your personality subroutines.

You're arrogant, irritable--

"a jerk," as Counselor
Troi would say.

I believe she was
describing you, as well.

Don't change the subject.

I may not be able

to turn you into a Mark4,

but I can make you
a bit more presentable.

What if I'm happy
with the way I am?

I'm doing you a favor.

I don't want any favors,

and I don't want
your new subroutines!

Why can't you accept me
as lam?!

Because you're defective!

"Emergency Medical Hotheads!"

"Extremely Marginal
House Calls."

That's what everyone used
to call the Mark-1's,

until they were bounced
out of the Medical Corps.

I tried to have them
decommissioned,

but Starfleet,

in its infinite wisdom,
overruled me

and reassigned them all to work

waste-transfer barges.

That's where you'd be, too,

if you hadn't been lost

in the Delta Quadrant.

Do you know
how humiliating it is

to have 675 Mark-1's out there

scrubbing plasma conduits...

all with my face?

I'm sure
they're doing a fine job.

What are you doing?

I'm not finished with you.

I'm trying to do my job.

And if you give me a chance,

you'll see
that I'm pretty good at it.

Frankly, I'd hoped
that if we ever met,

you'd be proud of me.

Well...

I guess it is comforting to know
that at least one of you

is still doing
what I designed you to do.

Your intercellular proteins
are at a dangerous level.

We should begin the procedure.

Please?

Give me a chance
to make you proud of me.

Maybe we could try it;
see how it goes.

See how it goes.

Just don't expect me
to put you in my will.

I-I'm going in.

Reg...

They have been in
there for 32 hours!

Be patient.

Well, you...

You're not fritzing anymore.

No thanks to you.

Dr. Zimmerman ran

a diagnostic
on my subtronic relays,

and he made
a very interesting discovery.

Apparently, I was the victim

of foul play.

Well, what...
what do you mean?

He found an algorithm
designed to disrupt

my matrix.

You wouldn't know
anything about that,

would you?

Well, traditional therapy
wasn't getting us anywhere.

Well, your little scheme worked.

Dr. Zimmerman has agreed

to the cellular regeneration
procedure.

It requires
several more treatments,

but I'm optimistic
he'll make a full recovery.

Trying to steal my secrets?

Another one of my hobbies.

I thought I'd take
home a few memories.

You're supposed to be in bed.

I've got work to do.

It can wait.

Go to bed.

Doctor's orders.

I hope you won't be
coming back next month

to make sure
I'm taking my medicine.

Don't worry.

My Captain's not likely
to authorize another...

house call.

Good.

The next time
she sends a data stream,

you might want
to drop me a line,

let me know how you're doing.

If you insist.

Ready?

Would you mind?

Not at all.

Smile.