THE VALUE OF SENTIENCE
By TIPPER
Disclaimer: Not mine, not infringement intended
Relationships: Friendships, esp. between the Doctor and Captain Janeway
A/N: I'm very, very new to this fandom (blame BBC America for marathoning Voyager), so apologies up front for any mistakes. I relied on Memory Alpha for some of the facts and timing.
Since it was never resolved, I found myself imagining what the Doc's court case might look like if he ever did push for self-determination, and what it might mean. I have scratched up Starfleet a bit here; it's not Roddenberry's perfect civilization, more the imperfect one of later iterations, but it's still great (I hope). I also took some other liberties for a post-Endgame world – I didn't make Janeway an Admiral, for one, as I think she would turn it down at her younger age if offered (versus when she's much older, as she was in Endgame).
DESCRIPTION: Is the Doctor a person under the law? Is he alive, as Kes so emphatically stated to Janeway all the way back at the beginning? The Federation's Supreme Court has to decide, and there will be consequences.
…
...
CHAPTER ONE: THE ARGUMENTS
"Thank you, Kevin," the reporter said, nodding into the view screen. "Yes, we are here for the final arguments in what may be one the most important court cases for the last few decades, perhaps even this century. The highest court in the Federation has the unenviable task of determining whether the former Mark 1 Emergency Medical Hologram from the U.S.S. Voyager has met the standards of sentience under the law, and has therefore earned the right to self-determination. If his attorneys succeed, then the ramifications for the future of artificial intelligence throughout Federation space could be significant. On the one side, anyone who has met this hologram, as I have, would say that he seems as alive as any naturally born being in this galaxy. But, then again, as when interacting with any holodeck program, how real they seem is always tempered with the knowledge that, well, they're not real…."
…
...
The courtroom was cool, the sun filling the windows having no impact on the artificially maintained temperature keeping everyone comfortable. The emotional temperature of the room, however, was something else entirely.
Captain Kathryn Janeway sat next to the Doctor, her hand pressing into his arm in comfort. On the Doctor's other side, an attorney from one of the largest law firms in San Francisco took notes as the Federation's attorney, acting for the defense, strode to the center of the room to make his closing remarks.
The air conditioning quieted, and, in the back of the Doctor's mind, the phrase 'you could hear a pin drop' echoed softly. The Federation's attorney cleared his throat and looked up at the judges.
"We often define life by the value of 'sentience,'" the attorney began, "a term that has as many varied meanings as the universe has colors. The word itself is imperfect, its historical definition a flawed one for these purposes, but, for better or ill, it has become the legal term by which we determine whether a life form has the right of self-determination. Over the decades, it has been used to give protections to everything from viruses to planets, but, today, you, our esteemed judges, are being asked for the first time to use it to give rights to an artificial intelligence—in this case, a hologram.
"More often than not, for ease, we decide sentience as if it were a mathematical equation, ticking off the factors that, together, lead us to a result we can legally rely on. And, typically, when we meet new naturally occurring life forms, we apply this equation to determine how to treat the life form. For a life form to be determined sentient, it must have self-awareness, it must have the capacity to feel emotions, to have desires and intentions, and even to suffer—what some have described as 'consciousness,' and it must be able to act with a level of intelligence, to adapt to a changing environment.
"The problem is that 'sentience' is an incomplete equation to use when asking the question of whether an artificial lifeform can be thought to be a 'person' under the law. All of these things that I've listed can also be programmed into the lifeform, and, in the case of the Doctor, they were. He was programmed from the beginning to have self-awareness of his existence as a hologram. He was programmed with emotional subroutines that have allowed him to feel, to dream and to suffer, all of which he has done. Lastly, he was, of course, programmed to be both intelligent and adaptive—how else could he respond effectively in an emergency, which was his purpose. Adding that all together, he is, undoubtedly, sentient by the standard legal definition, but does that mean he is alive? Is he real? If everything that makes him sentient is the result of programming, then how can it be the correct definition to use?
"I submit that it is not. For artificial lifeforms, meeting the standard definition of sentience is simply not enough."
He had been facing the judges as he spoke, barely blinking as he met their eyes, but with those words still ringing out, he turned to look at the plaintiff's table.
"Which brings us to the question of whether the Doctor 'exceeded' his programming, a phrase that has been used heavily by the plaintiff's attorney. By this term, I assume the plaintiff's attorney is suggesting that the Doctor has somehow acted outside his programmed parameters, achieved a level of consciousness beyond his original programming. The problem is, in reviewing the transcripts from the arbitration hearing, and from what we've heard over these last few days, nothing in the evidence presented by the crew of Voyager or the Doctor's attorney suggests that the Doctor has done this.
"What is clear is that his programming has been extended, expanded and has adapted to the changing environment that he was forced to experience, but at no point can it be said he 'exceeded' his programming. The crew brought up instances where the Doctor disobeyed orders, acted to better himself, even expressed emotional attachments to members of the crew. However, every one of those can be explained by a review of his emotional subroutines and the memories collected therein. That part of his programming adapted and responded to his environment, as it was designed to, and at times they clearly overrode his other processes—such as his ethical subroutines. But, if you were to take those emotional subroutines away, I submit that none of the events described would have occurred. He is a sum of his programmed parts—take any part away, and he no longer fits the definition."
The attorney's gaze rested solely on the Doctor then, sitting straight-backed in his chair at the plaintiff's table and watching him intently. He then turned away, once more turning to face the judges.
"I submit to this esteemed body, therefore, that sentience as the result of programming cannot be true sentience. The factors of sentience that he exhibits are what he was made to exhibit—they're not of him, but given to him. Unless sentience comes about naturally, meaning that unless the Doctor has truly acted outside of his program's parameters, meaning further that, so long as any aspect of it cannot simply be deleted away, then it is simply not real. This additional factor must be included in any application of the legal definition of sentience for artificial life forms, and, if you do, then you cannot judge the Doctor to be a sentient being."
He took a breath then, as if regrouping his thoughts, moving to a different part of the room in order to look out one of the windows briefly before turning back to the judges.
"Separate and apart from this," he said, "we also cannot ignore the consequences of a decision such as this. Use of artificial lifeforms throughout the Federation and beyond is a common occurrence. Indeed, there are entire businesses and planets that rely on artificial lifeforms to exist—a decision such as this could threaten whole economies, whole cultures, whole civilizations. To use the simple definition of sentience to determine whether they are alive or not would be to open a door that no one here wants to open." He shook his head, looking decidedly unhappy as he continued. "If you determine that the Doctor is a self-determinative being, one with the rights and privileges accorded to natural born beings, then that would mean he should be allowed personal time, be afforded living conditions, be afforded the right to choose his future. Does that mean that every holodeck character, every Mark I Miner, every robot or diagnostic program that meets the traditional characteristics of sentience should be afforded the same? And if they are not, does that make them slaves? If we decide they are slaves, and that they should be 'freed'…" He put air quotes around the word. "Are we also now required to protect them should other species deny them their rights as well?"
He looked around the courtroom, to the attorneys lining the tables, and then again to the judges. "I submit that if you grant this hologram self-determination, you could be opening up something that we may not have the means to control."
The judges did not react to his words, not even to move in their chairs. They simply watched as the Federation attorney took a step back.
"Now, I recognize that these are words that have been spoken before, spoken by attorneys and politicians and diplomats time and time again over the course of Federation history," he said then. "I recognize that, in many cases, these sorts of words are looked upon with derision, although that also speaks to the arrogance of hindsight." He sighed. "And at some point, perhaps the rights of artificial lifeforms will be so obvious and settled that a case such as this will be viewed the same way. However…we are not there yet.
"If you make the decision that the Doctor of the USS Voyager is sentient, using the standard definition applied to organic life forms, then you will not only willfully be ignoring the fact that the Doctor's sentience was the result of programming, you will be using an ambiguous definition that could result in a massive amount of confusion and chaos. If this esteemed body is going to break ground with this hearing, it needs first to find a clear and convincing definition of sentience that will explain why this program, the Doctor, is different from other holograms and artificial lifeforms. Every naturally born life is unique, can the same be said of the Doctor? Even Commander Data, a recognizably unique being, had not been granted the same determination before his destruction, and he had the weight of medals and a storied history far beyond what this Hologram has achieved in its short time frame. To my mind, if Starfleet, in its wisdom, had not been able to make that determination with a creation such as Commander Data, how could it possibly now make that determination with respect to a program as common as an EMH program?
"Lastly," he said, "I ask that you consider the effect this decision might have on the holographic and AI sciences. I suspect that it would immediately have a chilling effect, as no one would want to risk creating further 'living' artificial lifeforms. It could set back holoprogramming alone for decades."
He lowered his head, pausing as to let that sink in.
"To conclude," he said finally, raising his head again, "while the Federation has been impressed by the expansiveness and impressiveness of the Doctor's programming, it does not believe that the Doctor has reached a level of consciousness beyond his programming that makes him a person under the law, with the rights of self-determination. It further believes that any such holding would have grave consequences on our society, which the judges of this esteemed body cannot ignore. We therefore respectfully request, once again, that the judges affirm the holding of the Appeals Court that the Doctor is merely a program, one that can be permanently deactivated and studied, so that the programming can be used to further the holographic and artificial intelligence sciences."
He bowed his head then in deference to the judges.
"Thank you."
With one more look to the plaintiff's table, to which he also nodded in deference, the attorney then returned to his seat and focused on the table in front of him, as if the argument had worn him out.
The Doctor blinked a few times, a strange buzzing filling his head as he looked down at the captain's hand on his arm. She squeezed it, and he turned to look at her. She was smiling comfortingly, but he could see the concern in her eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the chief judge said then, standing. "That concludes the Federation's arguments in this trial. We will recess until tomorrow morning, when the plaintiff's attorney will present their final argument." The nine judges stood then, and filed out of the room, none showing any particular expression as they moved.
The Doctor stared at the door through which they'd left, its emptiness disturbing. The captain had stood and was shaking the hands of his attorneys at the table, and he was aware of the platitudes she was spouting as she covered for his lack of motion.
A pair of hands rested on his shoulders, warm and comforting. He twisted his head, looking up at Tom Paris, who was smiling down at him. Behind him, B'Elanna rocked Miral gently as she chatted with another of the Doctor's attorneys. Miral was squirming in her arms, and the Doctor stood, smiling softly and reaching for the child. B'Elanna didn't hesitate, letting him take and rock Miral until the baby fell asleep.
She was so beautiful, and so peaceful; she wasn't questioning who she was yet. He missed that feeling. Gently, he smoothed down a flyaway hair and she snuggled deeper into his arms.
By that time, the courtroom had emptied except for the small number of the crew that had remained behind to be with him. The Doctor looked up from his care of Miral to find them all looking at him.
"Did you hear what I just said?" Janeway asked.
"No," he admitted. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"That there's a gathering of the crew at a restaurant not far from here. They'd like to see you. Are you up for that?" She smiled then. "Seven will be there," she added with a too knowing smile.
The Doctor swallowed, feeling the usual pang whenever her name was mentioned, but he shook his head. "I don't know—"
"Oh, come on, Doc!" Tom said, patting his arm. "You've only been permitted use of the mobile emitter so long as the trial is going on. You should take advantage of it while you have it!"
The Doctor nodded, looking down at the device on his arm—his freedom and his shackle, all at the same time.
"Okay," he said, blinking some more. "Sure." He handed Miral back to B'Elanna and, with the captain linking her arm with his, followed the Paris family out of the room.
They headed out of the building by the back door, to avoid the colorful signs and protestors out front. He'd heard enough abuse over the last few months to last a lifetime, so he was grateful that his friends had chosen this route.
As they walked down the streets, the Doctor slowed and closed his eyes for a moment to feel the sun on his face. When he opened them again, only the captain was still with him. She must have waved the others to go on, so she could be alone with him.
He noticed that her smile was gone, replaced with a thin lipped frown and a set jaw.
"I want you to know," she said, her voice cracking somewhat, "that I won't let them decompile you."
He smiled slightly. She had said that with the same confidence as whenever she announced that she would be getting the crew home. The problem was, she hadn't brought all of the crew home—some, like Lieutenant Carey, never made it—and the darkness he could see in her suggested that she knew that. She wasn't all powerful, she was just very determined, but determination and cleverness only got you so far, and not everyone survived.
He shook his head.
"I don't want you to make that promise," he told her. "I don't want you to worry about me. You don't have to continue to take care of me, or anyone else on your crew, Captain. You did it - you got us back to the Alpha Quadrant, and your job of taking care of us is done. What happens to us now is our own destiny, and you mustn't let it worry you or cause you to doubt. I was never meant to exist this long—that I have is a testament to you and everyone else from Voyager. But if this the end of my journey, then I want you to know that it has been an honor and a privilege to have served under you and been your friend. Please…." He felt a tear forming and he blinked it away.
"Please," he said again, "do not do anything that could jeopardize your future or that of anyone else."
She just stared at him, her gaze searching as if looking for something she couldn't quite see. Then she shook her head.
"I can't do that, Doctor," she said. "It's not who I am. After what happened, I consider every member of the crew to be my family, and I'm the matriarch. I will always worry, and I will always do my best to help them in any way that I can. That includes you."
He frowned, not liking that answer, and he saw her gaze narrow. He turned his head away, hating that he felt like he was disappointing her along with everything else.
He heard her huff, then she took his arm again, dragging him forward. A moment later, they were in front of a small sidewalk café and she all but shoved him into one of the chairs. The tables outside were mostly empty, due in part to the fact that the time hovered somewhere between lunch and happy hour. Before he could ask what she was doing, she had beckoned to the bored looking server, who came over to take their order.
"Coffee, black," she said crisply. "And a glass of water."
The server nodded and left. The Doctor frowned at her.
"What about the party?"
"We'll get there," the captain said. "I need to you to understand something first." As she spoke, she rested her elbow on the table and placed her chin on her hand so she could stare at him steadily.
He wasn't sure what she was up to exactly, and he squirmed a little in his seat.
"Here's my problem," she said after a moment. "I wasn't entirely forthcoming a moment ago. The truth is, while I think of the crew as my family, you're one of the few members of my crew I feel the most responsibility for. It's why, more than once, I let you get away with things that I would never have let anyone else get away with." She arched an eyebrow. "Do you know why?"
He frowned, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as she gazed at him. "No."
"Because I'm the one who did this to you. Kes was your advocate and your guide, the one who first believed you were alive, but it wouldn't have gone anywhere without me."
He frowned even more deeply at her.
"It was Vahram Bingham, your attorney—nice choice by the way, I really like him—it was your attorney who opened my eyes about this," she said. "When he was interviewing me, creating his arguments for your case, he was very interested in that first moment that I gave you autonomous control over your activation, way back in those first few months. He was also very interested in your response to that moment. Do you remember what you said to me when I suggested giving you that autonomy?"
He nodded. Of course he did; he remembered everything. "I said, 'I might like that.'"
She nodded, and smiled again. "That was the moment, Doctor. You expressed a desire, a conscious characteristic outside of your program parameters, something a normal holographic program shouldn't have been able to do, but you did and I made it happen. I didn't know what that decision would mean, but giving you that control was apparently all it took to make you….you. After that, you stopped being the EMH and you became our Doctor. That choice, which I'll admit I made without a lot of forethought, gave you your freedom. And with that freedom, you truly evolved into a sentient being."
He stared at her, taking that in. He was still staring at her when the server returned and placed the coffee and water on the table. It wasn't until she took a sip of the coffee, and smiled contentedly, that the Doctor even blinked. He looked down finally, fingering the glass of water, which she knew he could not drink.
"And because I did that," she continued, her voice a little softer, "you also became my responsibility, almost more so than anyone else on the crew except for Seven of Nine."
She reached over and rested her hand on his arm again, just as she had done in the courtroom.
"So, I repeat, no matter what happens in this trial…" He met her gaze, and saw only the steel-eyed confidence of his captain. "I will not let them destroy you."
The single tear he'd been holding back fell this time; he couldn't help it. Beneath everything, he was just so incredibly scared; as usual, the captain, his captain, had known. She smiled, squeezed his arm, and stood. She finished the coffee in one large gulp, and then held out a hand. He found he couldn't say no, taking her hand and allowing her to help him stand. They were soon on their way, headed once more, he presumed, towards the party.
He wiped his sleeve across his face, erasing the embarrassing tearstain.
"Do you know what I like best about you, Doctor?" Janeway asked then, patting the arm to which she was linked.
"My sparkling wit?" he said, attempting a smile.
She chuckled. "Your persistence. When you get a notion in your mind, you don't let it go, no matter what happens to shake it. You push and push and push, oftentimes regardless of the consequences, and more than once, that has both saved us…and almost destroyed us." She shook her head, still smiling. "You learned from your mistakes every time, but my god, it was amazing we could keep up with you sometimes." Then she looked up at him, her gaze scrutinizing. "I would hate for you to lose that character trait now."
He smiled, her meaning clear. Don't give up now.
"Ditto," he said then, and she laughed.
…
...
The Doctor's attorney stood, staring down at his notes one last time before looking up to address the court.
"Let me start by saying that I agree with nearly everything that the Federation's attorney, Mr. Ropes, said yesterday," he said. "First, I agree with how he defined sentience for life forms, a definition that Starfleet has been using for almost a hundred years. Second, I agree that the Doctor clearly evidences all of the traits that meet that definition, and did so almost from the beginning of his activation. Third, I agree that, were this esteemed body to hold that the Doctor has earned the right to self-determination, that it could have far ranging consequences, possibly dangerous ones. All of those things, I agree with.
"What I don't agree with," he said then, "is the argument that a new definition of sentience needs to be applied to artificial life forms."
He stepped out from behind the desk, nodding briefly at the Doctor and the captain before making his way to the center of the room.
"My esteemed colleague's argument before this court yesterday was built on the simple assumption that, because sentience can be programmed into an artificial life form, it is not true sentience. He argued that, as a result, a new definition needed to be created. He insisted that sentience must have a natural occurring component, or else it's simply not real. My question to you is, why? Why does it matter that the Doctor had the capability for sentience programmed into him, a sentience that he deliberately explored and expanded on the moment he had the freedom to control his own activation? Why is his sentience any different than sentience being created by natural means?
"I submit to this court that it is not."
He took a deep breath, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Let me be as blunt as I can be. This esteemed body's purpose is not to debate the philosophical question of what is 'sentience,' or what is 'consciousness,' or even what it means to be truly 'alive.' Those questions have been debated and discussed and argued for millennia by every species and, as far as I can tell, no conclusion has ever been reached. No, this body's purpose is to review the law, and what the law has defined sentience to mean, and, when it comes to that, the law is long settled. It should not be modified merely because we are applying it to an artificial life form instead of an organic one; such a result would be discriminatory because it is based on prejudice, not fact.
"To say that an artificial lifeform cannot be considered sentient unless it arrives at sentience 'naturally' suggests that an organic being possesses some special characteristic at birth that an artificial being does not—but I have yet to hear from anyone what that special characteristic might actually be. All I've heard is the prejudicial assumption that it exists, so we must set the bar higher. Hundreds of years ago on Earth, men used to say something similar of women; that they couldn't possibly take on 'male' roles because they were born female. Today, that idea is laughable, and yet I feel like I'm hearing that same argument from the Federation's attorney in this case: that there must be a difference, because we believe that it exists even despite all the evidence to the contrary." He pointed to the Doctor as he said that, and then to everyone sitting behind him.
"Moreover," he continued, putting his hands behind his back again, "if you did agree that this 'natural' component be added to the definition, it would also create a bar so high, no artificial life form could ever pass it." He shook his head. "No, I submit that this body must apply the law the same way to an artificial life form as an organic one; and if you do, then the Doctor's sentience was established the moment he expressed the desire to expand his programming to his captain."
He waved a hand to Mr. Ropes. "As we've said, the Federation's attorney has already conceded that the Doctor meets all the factors of sentience. So I put it to you, if the law as written already says he's sentient, what more do we need?"
He turned then, looking at Mr. Ropes directly.
"But in case you do need more, then I would like to challenge certain other factors that my colleague made in his argument. First," he said, returning his attention to the judges, "my colleague stated that, because any part of the Doctor's sentience could be 'deleted'…" He used air quotes. "…Like his emotional subroutines, then it means his sentience can't be real. But consider this. Any living being can have pieces taken away from them, their memories, their ability to communicate, their ability to learn, even their ability to feel. Does that also make them no longer sentient? Does the patient that suffers from a neurological disease suddenly become less alive? Of course not, and yet my colleague would have you believe that it does.
"Second, my colleague seems to be under the impression that the Doctor is not a unique being. All life is unique, he said, and the Doctor is not unique. He couldn't be more wrong. Like every being, the Doctor is more than what he was born with—his experiences, his memories, his love of opera, his voracious desire to learn—these are all unique qualities to this particular individual. I have met other artificial lifeforms, and they are not like him, and I doubt any of his crew would say that they know anyone like him either. Like all organic beings, he was born with certain set of characteristics—though I concede his came from programming instead of genes. But like all other beings, his personality, his individuality, his…consciousness, changed and grew over his time on Voyager. He is unique.
"Which brings me to another point. I would also like to comment on something else my esteemed colleague said yesterday…" He returned his gaze to the judges. "…When he brought up Commander Data. The Federation's attorney pointed out that the Commander never had the case of his sentience finally determined. That is true." He frowned. "In the court briefs, both parties already stipulated that the hearing to determine whether Commander Data was Starfleet property was non-binding precedent, being as it was a Starfleet tribunal without standard due process or a Federation court judge. And even if it was binding, the hearing officer in that case admitted to not knowing whether the Commander was sentient or not; he ended up avoiding making a conclusion, just as the arbiter did in the Doctor's holonovel hearing. It's likely that, in Commander Data's case, the hearing officer intended that question to be resolved by this esteemed body, but, sadly, the Commander never got the opportunity to make his case. I believe, however, that we honor him now with this case, with this plaintiff. I say that because I believe, if you rely on the definition of sentience that Mr. Ropes stated at the beginning of his closing remarks yesterday that this body would have determined that the Commander was, indeed, sentient, just as I believe that you will conclude that the Doctor is sentient."
The attorney turned then, glancing at the Doctor and the captain, before walking back to his desk. Reaching it, he stood before his chair and looked once more at the judges.
"I recognize the consequences of a decision such as this one can be far reaching, and they could be, just as my colleague has warned, dangerous. But fear should not be what drives your decision. Starfleet's entire existence is dedicated to exploring the unknown, to finding new worlds, to seeking out new life and new civilizations, and to boldly going where no being has gone before. Well, we have a new life here, one we ourselves created, and, yes, it's frightening in its implications. In that, my esteemed colleague and I are in complete agreement. But if we truly intend to stand by our credo, then we cannot ignore our own legal precedence just because we're afraid of the consequences, afraid of change. I promise you, this new life form sitting here, his captain by his side, is just as terrified that you are going to decide the other way. Prove to him, and to all the members of his crew, and to the members of the crew of the Enterprise who are here to support the Doctor on behalf of their fallen comrade, that we are still the Federation that Commander Data died for."
He inclined his head to the judges. "Thank you."
As with the Federation attorney's arguments, the judges gave no reaction to the attorney's words, their expressions impassive.
The chief judge stood, her robes hanging heavily off her shoulders.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she said. "That concludes the plaintiff's arguments in this trial. We will recess now to deliberate our decision regarding this matter. We will inform you once we have a consensus."
The nine judges stood up with her then, and filed out of the room through the same door they'd disappeared through yesterday.
To the Doctor's eyes, the door wasn't a chamber door as it shut behind them, but a cell door, shutting him inside with his worst fears.
The captain drew him upwards, and she once again reached around him to thank the attorney. The Doctor tried to nod whenever anyone was speaking to him, to indicate he was paying attention, but it was even more a blur than yesterday. He started shaking hands perfunctorily, not even meeting the gazes of the people whose hands he was shaking.
Then someone gripped his hand particularly hard, and he looked up to find himself facing the Federation's attorney. Mr. Arek Ropes was human, like the Doctor's own attorney, with dark skin and rather large eyes. He was saying something odd.
"What?" the Doctor said. "I'm sorry, I was—"
"In a daze, I know," the man said. "I said that I wanted you to know that I hope you win. While I believed many of the things that I said yesterday, I believe in Federation's ideals more. It would be wrong for them not to go your way."
The Doctor blinked. "Do you…Do you think they will?"
"I think your attorney did a very good job, but I don't know. The law is never simple. But I do wish you luck."
He let go of the Doctor's hand then, reaching over to shake the captain's hand next, and the Doctor heard her ask him something else about the trial. He tuned it out and looked to his attorney, who was currently speaking with Commander Chakotay and Seven of Nine. For a brief moment, he was sorely tempted to take her hand, even if just for a moment, just to feel her hand in his. They were tucked behind her back, however, and so he shook off the wish to focus on what they were saying.
"How long before they tell us their decision?" Chakotay was asking his attorney.
"As I told your captain," Bingham replied, "at least a couple of months, perhaps longer, considering the volatile nature of this particular case. Mr. Ropes was right that this could have devastating consequences for a lot of worlds and peoples if they go our way. The court may delay the decision in order to give Starfleet more time to prepare."
"And until then," Seven of Nine asked, "what happens to the Doctor?"
"I'll be deactivated," the Doctor answered. "I…I didn't want to be trapped within a holographic suite or another equivalent of a sickbay, even if it's at Starfleet Medical, so I asked to be deactivated."
"But…" She looked distraught, her brow furrowed. "What if I…." She frowned. "What if we want to see you?"
He gave a wan smile. "You'll be alright, Seven," he said. "You always are."
She frowned even more, straightening her back and lifting her chin. "I am not asking for me. You have a lot of people who care about you, don't you know that?" She sounded almost challenging.
He smiled, appreciating her more effusive nature since having the inhibiter removed. He looked around the room, which was much fuller than yesterday. The crew complement had been close to a hundred and sixty people, and most of them seemed to still be in the courtroom. He recognized everyone; had treated every single one of them one time or another.
"I guess I do," he said, nonplussed. He didn't think that many people even liked him.
"Doc," a voice called, and he turned to see Harry Kim grinning at him. Before he could say a word, the young ensign had pulled him into a hug. For a moment, he didn't return it, then he couldn't help it, enveloping the young man with as much warmth as he could. When Harry pulled away, still grinning, the Doctor was embarrassed to feel tears running down his face. Harry's grin disappeared instantly at seeing the tears, replaced by worry.
"Oh man, I'm so sorry!" he said. "I didn't mean to—"
"No, no, it's fine. It's great, actually. I needed that. Thank you." The Doctor wiped at his face hastily. "Twice in two days—I think perhaps I should have this ability turned off. It's rather embarrassing."
"Nonsense." Harry's grin returned full throttle. "In any case, I wanted to say that I couldn't help but overhear what Seven was saying." He nodded to her, where she still stood by their side with Chakotay. "And I have an alternate proposition for you from deactivation, if you're willing to hear it."
The Doctor gave a shrug. "By all means."
Harry smiled. "Well, although we've all been granted extended stays here, a few of us are already feeling a little antsy, wanting to get back out there if you know what I mean. So, we've volunteered for a short trip to Deep Space Nine to deliver some supplies. The ship doesn't have a medical officer picked yet, so I thought you might like to come with us? It's a small ship, and I've already spoken to the captain about installing holo-emitters in most of the corridors, so you'd have the run of most of it with the rest of us. She seems amenable, provided we get Starfleet to approve you joining us, and I did that this morning with Tom's father's help. They're fine so long as you perform within your established functions and we don't take any detours. What do you say? We'd only be out about a couple of months—you should be back in time to hear the decision."
The Doctor's eyebrows were raised, and he turned to look at Seven, who was nodding encouragingly, then beyond to Chakotay. The Commander was smiling at him.
The Doctor looked back to Harry, and, for what felt like the first time in a long time, gave a genuinely pleased smile.
…
TBC