ENTERPRISE-E, EARLY 2378

Crusher continued his testimony.

"--the risk to my own life is one I have sworn to undertake on many occasions. What I cannot abide was that same risk undertaken for no purpose, no gain and no apparent goal, solely to serve another officer's agenda. But why I have asked that charges be filed has nothing to do with life and limb. It has to do with the dashed hopes of a crew that lives almost solely on hope. Mister Barclay has admitted he knew that Voyager's multiple and varied temporal excursions would make it impossible for myself or any other Traveler to bring them back to the Alpha Quadrant by our learned methods."

He paused to breathe, then concluded.

"I've known real champions in my time, and called them friend, both here and in other realities. So I will port' straight into a nova if it is called for. This was not. And I would almost rather have gone into that same nova than stare at the faces of Captain Janeway and her senior staff as I told them that what had been represented as a sure thing was instead yet another disappointment. My presence there was not only not required, it was a detriment."

Captain Riker nodded.

"Lieutenant, I am going to ask you, on the basis of our long-term relationship, that these charges be dropped. The matter will be addressed."

"Done, sir. But I want it noted that it is solely based on that relationship I choose to do so."

"Noted. You are dismissed, Mister Crusher."

Without another word or even a glance at Barclay, Crusher left.

Barclay's neck muscles distended in seeming surprise.

"He's bitter."

Riker raised his voice, just slightly.

"Are you saying he doesn't have cause to be, Commander?"

Barclay was not quite the man he once had been, so he gave forward with some defense.

"Captain, we have all in our time had to deliver disappointing news. It seems to me that we also sign on for that risk. I'm sorry that Wes has trouble with that, but perhaps his expectations in this matter are no realer than my own more pathetic excursions onto the holodeck."

Perhaps Riker appreciated the more coherent Barclay of the present, but his argument was not holding up.

"Did you know that the probabilities of Wes being able to 'slide' Voyager home were next to nil?"

"I've already admitted that."

Will was losing patience in a matter that had too many damned puzzles.

"Then, Commander, this was a risk undertaken for no reason at all. A talent once almost lost to Starfleet could have been lost forever. That 'instant transmit' method taught to him by Professor Kirk and Admiral Saavik's dimensional counterparts is very draining. Add to that, the hopes of a starving crew that counts you among their number were raised and dashed--again, for no reason at all."

Reg finally gave in.

"There was a reason, Captain. I needed to take a report from the ship's advanced EMH. Wes brought it back with him, on a PADD he had taken there at my request, in case, it, too, could not be brought back."

Riker was still not having it.

"Was it a report that couldn't have been transmitted?"

Barclay shook his head.

"No, sir. Because this report needed to be wholly unseen by anyone on Voyager. It could have easily caused a panic."

Riker got up from his desk.

"What could be that bad, that you couldn't allow it to be seen by Captain Janeway or Commander Chakotay?"

Reg openly gulped.

"Sir, if this report is correct, then within a very short time, Captain Kathryn Janeway may be wholly unfit to continue serving as Voyager's commanding officer!"

Riker took in these words, and then he sat back down, looking quite stunned.

"That is one hell of a charge to make, Mister Barclay. The mere fact of you raising it about a Captain in such a unique circumstance ties my hands. Technically, Kathryn Janeway exists in her own jurisdiction, beyond that of any Admiral, save one."

Reg realized what that meant.

"I understand, sir."

An hour later, the comm-holo next to Captain Riker's desk brought up a life-size apparition of the man who had been a legend for two centuries. The Commander-In-Chief, Starfleet, installed after the mass resignations following the Dominion War. Captain Of Three Enterprises, and of two legendary crews. Whether time-lost or making history across history, there was no mistaking the form and features of James Tiberius Kirk. Riker nodded at his second CO aboard Enterprise.

"Jim. We have a situation."

"So I take it, Will. By the way, our mutual friend has sent a small message, from the Third Clan Ascendancy ruins of Thoat Nine. 'Will—we are both of us quite well. Keep the ship and the crew just as well, as you always have.' I would never have believed it--but I really think he and Bev are happy out there."

Riker smiled.

"That career may have been his second love, Admiral. But it was always a very close second. Now, on to more potentially hurtful duties."

Kirk sighed.

"Captain Riker, normally I would never ask this. But are you certain these charges should be discussed, even in this most preliminary stage? The brief I was sent while this call was set up indicates that the evidence in question was obtained if not illegally, then in a highly deceptive manner."

Will looked at Reg, indicating that he should answer this unspoken query.

"Admiral Kirk, sir. I believe that Voyager's unique and isolated circumstance made this method necessary, if never desirable. Obviously, raising it to Captain Janeway or Commander Chakotay would place an unfair burden on them. Their crew consists of people who were almost created by Captain Janeway. Even the logic of Commander Tuvok must be called into question, when counterbalanced against his loyalty."

Kirk stared at the officer he had never really cared for.

"If Hikaru Sulu had not once told me the exact same thing about Tuvok, Mister Barclay, you'd be mine right now."

The image turned to Riker.

"One of the promises I made to myself upon assuming this chair was that I would never sit here like an addled fool, pontificating over the blessed 23rd Century. Another promise was to reverse the recent blindly top-down nature of this Fleet. Mister Barclay seems to be arguing that just as I as I was able to use my own flaws to outwit Captain Tracey, so he is fit to stand in judgment over Captain Janeway's possible problem. So I will choose to trust the people that both I and Jean-Luc trusted. You, Captain Riker, will confer with Commander Troi over whether I should issue an order to relieve Captain Janeway of her command. Mind you--we have no guarantee that Voyager will obey such an order. So the burden of evidence will be upon you. I will also be enacting certain other changes, pending your direct approval. My best to you, Captain Riker, and to my stepdaughter. Kirk out."

When the image faded, Barclay asked a question.

"Sir? Shouldn't we also include Admiral Paris in these discussions?"

Will looked him in the eye.

"No, we definitely should not. Admiral Paris quite clearly asked to be kept out of the loop, should an event like this occur. Considering that both his protege and his son are in question and could conceivably be brought into custody as a result of this, I think we can easily see his point."

Will's wife and Tactical Officer joined them in the Ready Room. Deanna had a bit of a glare for Reg. She pulled him aside.

"Are you at all aware just how much time and effort I've expended telling people that you had turned the corner?"

Barclay shook his head.

"Counselor--I'm just a man with a lot of corners. Was Wes that upset?"

"Actually, he barely brushed over it. Since he was an Acting Ensign, that's always been my best indicator that he's trying to internalize pure rage. He's better at it, now. But then, so am I. Most people change, Reg."

On the one hand, her words were a trifle cruel. But they also gave him a burst of pride. For they meant that she regarded him as being able to take it without falling apart. Riker now bid them both sit down.

"Recorded herein are the opinions of the Louis Zimmerman created and based EMH Mark One, Advanced and Upgraded, assigned under Field Promotion and then under Special Orders as Chief Medical Officer, USS Voyager, NCC 74656. Until further notice from myself and with the approval of CIC Kirk, these words do not travel, and that order includes Lieutenant Crusher, whom I will debrief myself."

The playback began. The EMH started with a few concessions.

*I do not know what the fact and manner of my existence means to the ones listening to this. I will ask you to put those feelings aside, for good or ill. Please, at least for the moment, treat me merely as a CMO, no less and no more. Because it is my inadvertent treatment as being more that has drawn Voyager towards this crisis.*

Will noted to himself that the program seemed more self-aware than he would have thought. Deanna considered that Reg's opinion of the EMH, while still somewhat gushing in tone, was perhaps not that far off in terms of its accuracy. Then again, it was Barclay's own experiences in making holos seem realer that went part and parcel into what had otherwise proven an unworthy and pedestrian design. The recording continued.

*When I was first activated, my only friend on board was a young woman named Kes, from a strong but psi-latent species known as The Occampa. It was shortly after her admonitions that I be treated as any other crewmember that this occurred. My working theory is that she, unaware at this point of the true possible depths of her abilities, in fact subtly influenced the crew to make this breakthrough. This theory might also account for the rapid integration of the two crews. My evidence for this is limited, and I believe that, in any event, it may have only hastened events that were occurring anyway. Yet in my own case, suddenly going from step 1 to step 3 in terms of acceptance may in fact have been a step too far, and hinted at the beginnings of Captain Janeway's problems.*

*There were problems with our holo-matrix and the crew's use of it from the beginning. A more astute substitute counselor than myself would have immediately taken note of the fact that the troublemakers in Be'lanna Torres less-than-ideal reimagining of my holo-family were Klingons. But after the absurd notion of allowing my program to be personality-adjusted at user whim passed into the ether, it seemed to all gel somehow. Perhaps it was something as basic as my holographic lung substitute for the crippled Mister Neelix's stolen lungs. Perhaps it was the accidental and terrifying realization of the ancient monster Grendel, a primordial figure in a Terran-based Federation's legends. Maybe it was when, as seems a rite of passage and acceptance for today's Starfleet officers, I became hopelessly lost in a badly malfunctioning holodeck program.*

Barclay heard both of the other officers mutter not quite under their breath.

"I'm with you there, Doctor."

*Yet whether from Kes's abilities, necessity, or practical experience, before we truly knew it, we were one crew and I was its doctor. Now, the holodeck has been a huge form of relief from the beginning. If I were to wonder who eventually to have this manner of worry about, it would have been Lieutenant Paris. But now I think that his very intimacy with the technology gave him the grounding to think of it all as technology first, thus avoiding the more obvious and often pathetic aspects of holo-addiction. This may sound odd or off coming from one such as I, but I have honestly come to prefer Mister Paris's clumsy stumbling towards acceptance of me than the total acceptance given by others. I am still learning about myself, and I appreciate others that try and do so.*

Deanna bid that the playback be paused, and made a statement that echoed and confirmed Riker's own feelings.

"Captain--the Doctor has recently had cause to question several aspects of his own existence."

As the playback resumed, Barclay thought surely that the correctness of his actions would become apparent. But he would find out otherwise.

*Holography has served Voayger as both shield and entryway to intruders of varied intent, perhaps moreso than any other ship in Federation history. But one incident, actually a small turn of events in a larger situation, has stayed with me more than any delusional photonic would-be messiah, Cardassian war criminal, or B-Movie deus ex machina. During the finish of the Hirogen Incursion, their Commander ordered them to stand down. Even his most bloodthirsty subordinate was prepared to obey. On review of the tapes of this incident, I saw a holographic Nazi officer rekindle the Hirogen's bloodlust with merely a few vague words. Ekos and John Gill aside, how did this long-dead evil reach across half the galaxy and nearly kill us all, when the battle and the peace were nearly won? Asking that question began my slow spiral to other, tougher questions.*

*As to myself, I have shined and I have also made an utter fool of myself. I have shown that I am much more than a mere program, and I have had it shown to me rather painfully that a program is still what I am. Two young people, siblings, with whom I'm told your Mister Crusher is familiar, once had their privacy compromised by a wholly unrelated malfunction that made me something of a blabbermouth. If we are all machines, some of us are still yet more affected by simple mechanics. I consider myself a different sort of living machine than most of you, just as the legendary and well-known to you Data Soong is different than either of us. I want the rights and considerations given to other technical sentients, and yet I remain troubled. You see, Captain Janeway has been my most steadfast ally in pursuing my betterment. But now I see patterns that I did not before. Perhaps even ones I was previously incapable of seeing.*

The three were silent as the EMH went on. Even Barclay had not expected this level of dichotomy in the Doctor's talk.

*We photonics are a step towards the sentient desire to enter and control our own dreams. Through our holodecks, Da Vinci at last achieved his dream of flight. Seska Marlis's dream of vengeance was given a few last gasps. I was given a family, and all the attendant pains of having one. What was and was not real? I'm talking practically here, not in a mere philosophical sense. That hideous fear-clown was real enough to those poor people trapped in cryo. When Tom Paris was wrongly convicted of murder, his painful reliving of the victim's last moments was real. The death Be'lanna Torres sought in reenactments of the Maquis's last stand would have been very real. But while Seska may or may not have been a ghost, and while Da Vinci's desire for flight may have echoed strongly through centuries, even I must in the end concede that the majority of the things I speak of are arrangements of light, controlled by programs very basic in their design, relative to our times.*

The Doctor began to wrap up his message.

*I don't know if I am more real than Iden, simply because I am more stable. I don't know for certain that I am more real than either my ideal family or Miss Torres' somewhat Rorschachian reprogramming of them. I don't know on just what level I'm realer than Chaotica. Please understand that I'm not trying to be a snob when I call the people of Fair Haven for approachable intimacy dolls, programmed to be looser sexually than actual Nineteenth Century folk might ever have been. On the one hand, seeing these others as being less than myself stinks of a bigotry I have never tolerated when it was placed upon me. But not all holographic beings are like me--or anything remotely like me. Advances aside, some of us are people--and others are not. You have no idea how painful it is for me to say that.*

*Now to the concerns--which may become charges. That Captain Janeway spends a great deal of time with Innkeeper Michael from Fair Haven is her business, and no secret. But in one instance, the ship was placed in possible jeopardy as a result of her efforts to keep that matrix viable. Her determination to keep this one program alive has sometimes affected her choices. Yet all these things are on record, so here is my reason for utilizing the code Reg gave me when last we met on Jupiter Station. After the Iden revolt and my role in it, I offered up the loss of my mobile emitter as punishment. Captain Janeway refused to take it.*

Riker felt his eyes go wide.

"That's all?! You mean all this subterfuge is about a punishment that didn't occur?"

Deanna looked at her man harshly, indicating to him that her psychiatric abilities were finding something that her empathic ones were obviously incapable of doing in this circumstance. The playback finished up.

*I realized then and there that Captain Janeway's ability to act decisively on Voyager's behalf when it comes to the issue of holographic life may be badly compromised. You see, I did not offer my emitter as a token gesture, or to show that I comprehended my wrong. I did it because I am a Starfleet Officer who, although for reasons of conscience, ended up committing acts against my Captain and my fellow crewmates. In the past, Captain Janeway has treated lesser offenses with much greater severity. Am I real? Am I realer than other holograms? If I cannot answer those questions, then I daresay that neither can Captain Janeway. In the absence of such clear evidence, I again requested punishment for my actions, and was again rebuffed. It is possible that the Captain views me as a form of life to be fostered, and for that she has my gratitude. But as Voyager's Chief Medical Officer, I cannot let this possible problem put my non-photonic patients in peril any more. By virtue of my very nature, I do not have the authority to truly remove Captain Janeway even if I see more evidence of these concerns. I hereby request such authority, in the hopes that it will never have to be used. EMH out.*

Riker switched the playback off.

"He does go on. And he doesn't ask for much, does he? Just Starfleet letting a back-up program remove a sitting Captain."

Troi shook her head.

"Yet, if Captain Janeway has placed her confirmed sentient crew in some jeopardy for the sake of a debated form of life, then, depending on a few minor variables, she's either sinner or saint by all the standards we hold dear. Among those who make the call on such things is a ship's CMO."

Riker sighed, hating every moment of this.

"Reg, I'm sending you back to Pathfinder station. You are charged with granting the EMH the authority he requested. But make it damned tight, Mister Barclay. Tightly worded, tightly programmed--and quietly done."

Troi looked at Barclay.

"You started this in deception, Reg. But in order to avert and not create a crisis on Voyager, you'll have to tell the EMH exactly what it can and cannot do with this very limited authority. No loopholes."

As Barclay began to take this in, the ready room's buzzer was heard. Wes Crusher entered.

"Captain, Commanders. We have a real problem here. I just did the monthly check on Memory Nodule M1. Reg, the one you brought back with you from Pathfinder is a duplicate. Made with a Ferengi replicator, no less."

Riker shook his head.

"Wonderful. He could be anywhere by now."

Troi waved an opened hand.

"He would go for his only real hope of freedom. In the Delta Quadrant."

Barclay felt sick.

"We can't even alert them. It might force his hand. She-she must have stolen it--and then he helped the Ferengi to modify my holo-dopple. Oh, if Voyager thought Iden was ruthless, wait'll he starts in--and he will start in."

Crusher put two fingers to his forehead.

"Should I go back out, and warn them myself, Captain?"

"Negative, Wes. The presence of an Enterprise officer would tip him off as surely as an incoming message. Reg, its now on you, more than ever. Find a way to stop him---forever, if you can. We may have to give the EMH more authority than he wants."

After he had left, Barclay went inside his cabin and sank to his bed.

"What have we unleashed?"

===============================================

FAIR HAVEN PROGRAM, USS VOYAGER, THAT SAME MOMENT

Michael's new customer smiled lightly.

"Well, yes, sir. I am English, but let me assure you, I hold the crown in no affection."

"Well, such things do not concern me much, sir. I am an innkeeper, and what I keep to is regretting the loss of old customers such as our dear but happy friend, the departed Mister Neelix, and gaining new customers such as yourself, Mister?..."

The man nodded.

"The name is James."

He took another sip of his beer.

"James Moriarty."

===============================

TO BE CONTINUED IN : FOR THE WORLD IS HOLO