Hero for the Times
By: Julie

Summary: Voyager establishes direct contact with Starfleet, and gets an escort through an inhabited sector of space. Meanwhile, the doctor premieres his holonovel, and the carpets get cleaned.

Prologue:
"Personal log, Stardate 55559.1, EMH reporting.

"Last night Mister Neelix threw his official 'Welcome to the Alpha Quadrant' party to celebrate the fact that Voyager crossed into the Alpha quadrant during our last jump. That was due to Lieutenant Carey's improvements on the slipstream technology that allowed the ship to remain in the slipstream for three thousand light years instead of a mere one thousand. Though the quadrant divisions are arbitrary, and we are still some distance from Federation space, simply being in Alpha quadrant has cheered the crew considerably. I share in their elation, but it was the captain's announcement last night that elicited my greatest gratification. After several failed attempts to establish direct contact between Voyager and Starfleet, Lieutenant Torres and the estimable Lieutenant Barclay have finally overcome the problem with the slipstream displacement effect. The method of contact involves a phased tachyon beam tapping into a quantum singularity's faster-than-light transference effect...well, what it really means is that I can finally talk directly with my publisher and finalize a contract to publish of my holonovel.

"This development does leave me limited time to add the final polish to 'Hero for the Times,' though I must admit with all modesty that there is little room for improvement. Due to several requests I've also scheduled a premiere of my holonovel for tomorrow night. I suppose the crew does deserve to see my work before the general public, if only to be able to say they knew me when.

"In the meantime, I have acquiesced to Lieutenant Paris's suggestion that he act as my 'beta' and give me his opinion of 'Hero for the Times' before I unveil it to the crew. My holonovel is intended to appeal to the broadest cross section of the general public, and I suppose no one has more understanding of common tastes than Lieutenant Paris. Given his past holoadventure forays, I expect he will have nothing but praise for my creation.

"End log."

Smoke from the mangled consoles filled the bridge of the battered starship. The captain pulled herself up from the deck and pushed away the strands of hair that had escaped from her top bun. She reached through the haze for the comm pad on her chair, her fingers stretching to make contact.

"ECH to the bridge! Emergency! ECH to the bridge!" the captain rasped.

Another hit rocked the ship and the captain was thrown against the helm console, but her desperate plea was answered as moments later the turbolift opened and the Emergency Command Hologram exited. He strode confidently to the captain's chair, stepping over the moaning form of the Ops officer, unfazed by the smoke and debris around him.

"Helm, execute maneuver Alpha Beta Delta Phi Epsilon Tau Omega Four Dash Two Six Eight One," The ECH ordered as he began to press pads on the captain's console.

"Yes, sir," the helm officer replied as he flipped an errant lock of hair back from his sweaty, smoke-streaked forehead.

"Tactical, prepare to fire on my order."

"Aye," the tactical officer rumbled, his hands moving rapidly over his console.

"Get ready...FIRE!"

The USS Valorous executed a sharp turn as the phaser banks fired, and the large, black, pyramid-shaped ship that had been pounding the Valorous exploded into an even larger ball of fire and debris. The Valorous rocked in the shock wake of the other ship for several moments before everything stilled again. As the haze began to clear on the bridge, various crewmembers picked themselves up from the deck. Helmsman Don London brushed his mussed blond hair into a semblance of order, and touched a small cut on his forehead as he retook his seat. Tactical officer T'Ubark growled as he stood, baring his sharp Klingon teeth and ignoring his dislocated right shoulder. Captain Fayray helped Ops officer Derry Whim to his feet.

"Are you all right?" the captain asked as Whim swayed alarmingly.

"Fine, Captain," Whim murmured as he staggered back to his console, wiping the blood from his face so that his spots were again visible.

"Derry's symbiont has been through much worse in its past eight lives," London said, flashing Whim a wicked grin.

The captain approached the command chair. "ECH, once again you've saved the day."

The ECH vacated the command chair gracefully. "Thank you, Captain." He held out his hand, but Captain Fayray grabbed him in a motherly hug.

"That was a great maneuver, sir," London said with admiration.

"You have the heart of a true warrior," T'Ubark rumbled.

"Indeed," the captain agreed fervently. "Who knew having a holographic officer onboard would be so critical to our survival, and the survival of the Great Galactic Confederation? You're a hero like no kind ever before. What would we do without you?"

"Perish?" the ECH suggested as Fayray finally released him and took her command chair.

"Captain?"

Fayray turned to her Bolian first officer, Shocklattee, who was looking at her with an expectant expression.

"Oh, yes." The captain turned her gaze to the viewscreen. Then she closed her eyes and furrowed her brow in concentration. "I sense...no more anger, hatred, or intent to destroy. I sense only...nothingness."

"No kidding," London muttered. "They're dead."

Captain Fayray patted Shocklattee's shoulder. "Thank you as always for your silent support, Number One."

"I protested this mission," Shocklattee reminded her.

"Right. Well, it doesn't matter since we have the ECH." She flashed the ECH a blinding smile. The turbolift opened again, and a small figure burst out. "Ah, Lieutenant Mors," the captain said. "How are the engines?"

"Lieutenant Mors-Whim," the chief engineer reminded her. "And you should know how the engines are doing, Captain."

"Of course." The captain closed her eyes again. "They are...purring with contentment."

"Thanks to the EEH." Mors-Whim Alana walked toward the Ops station. "He stopped that warp core breach two days ago, and his reconfiguration of the warp matrix is the reason they survived this latest encounter with the Dork with no serious damage."

"Hey, Alana," Derry Whim said, tweaking her earring as she stopped next to him. They kissed quickly.

Though Captain Fayray smiled indulgently, T'Ubark gave them a look of disgust. "Romance does not belong on a starship bridge."

"Oh, chill out, T'Ubark," London said, earning a scowl from the Klingon.

:::Sickbay to EMH.:::

The ECH exchanged looks with the captain. "Onscreen."

A statuesque and completely bald woman appeared on the viewscreen. Her expression was serene. "There are several injured crewmen in Sickbay requiring treatment."

"Life-threatening injuries?" the ECH asked.

"No. It is merely an assortment of broken bones and superficial wounds. However, I do need your attention regarding another...urgent matter."

"An...urgent matter. Of course." The ECH winked at her. "I'll be right there."

The viewscreen cleared and the ECH turned to the Fayray. "I must get to Sickbay immediately, Captain. Debin urgently requires my presence."

The ECH flickered and a moment later his command gold uniform changed into medical blue. He strode to the turbolift, then halted as the applause sounded behind him. The EMH turned and raised a hand in acknowledgment. Then he stepped into the turbolift and the door closed on his benevolent, smiling face.

"So ends this thrilling adventure of the Universal Starship Valorous and the amazing exploits of its hologram turned hero," a voice-over announced.

"Computer, freeze program."

The scene froze as requested, and Voyager's doctor turned to Tom Paris. "That's it. What did you think?"

Tom looked at the motionless figures on the simulated bridge. Then he met the doctor's expectant gaze. "It was definitely...eventful."

The doctor smiled broadly. "Yes, it is quite rousing, isn't it? Bold, adventurous, yet with a certain amount of insight. The characters are well drawn, don't you think? And the hero is especially engaging."

"If you do say so yourself?" Tom asked dryly. "Doc, have you noticed that these 'fictional' characters of yours bear a strong resemblance to Voyager's crew?"

"You think so?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "The heroic hologram looks exactly like you."

The doctor shrugged. "I do admit, there are some resemblances."

"Some?!"

The doctor continued as if he hadn't heard Tom's incredulous rejoinder, "You're aware of that old adage-write what you know. I did draw upon my own experiences, but this crew isn't really similar to Voyager's crew. The captain is a Betazoid, and the first officer is a Bolian-"

Tom snorted. "So the captain reads minds, and Chakotay is blue." Even Tuvok was recognizable under that Klingon forehead. He had to admit B'Elanna looked cute with those wrinkles on her nose, but that wasn't the point. "They *look* like the real crew. Then there are the names. Don London, for instance. Even if the name takeoff wasn't obvious, he could be my twin."

The doctor studied the frozen helmsman, then shook his head. "His hair is longer, and blonder. He also has more of it."

Tom frowned. "Don London" might wear his hair longer, and blonder-a bottle job from the looks of it-but he certainly didn't have more of it. "I noticed he also has a tendency to make irreverent comments."

"True," the doctor agreed unexpectedly. "But he's actually funny."

Tom glared at the doctor's smug smile. "The point is-"

"That he's not like you. For one thing he's not married. He's quite the ladies' man in fact, with a woman in every port."

As if he hadn't had that reputation in the past. Tom shook his head. "Doc-"

"And in my holonovel the chief engineer chose to marry the ops officer."

Tom followed the doctor's gaze. Mors-Whim Alana was practically wrapped around Derry Whim, their lips millimeters apart. The sight annoyed him. "B'Elanna would never use a hyphenated name-"

"Ah, but that's just it!" the doctor said triumphantly. "She's not B'Elanna. These people *aren't* the Voyager crew. Any resemblance is only coincidental."

Tom decided to try a different tack. "Fine. Maybe you're right, Doc."

The doctor's eyebrows rose at Tom's acquiescence. "I'm glad you see my point."

"I do. In your holonovel the emergency hologram does every job on the ship better than the highly trained crew, while they all sit helplessly, waiting for him to save the ship with his unbelievable range of talents. How ludicrous is that?" Tom clapped the doctor companionably on the shoulder. "It *is* complete fiction, and a comedy to boot."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "You might recall that I have saved this ship a time or two, including while I was in command. As I have proved quite frequently, holograms are beings of immense versatility."

"Not to mention immense egos," Tom said. Before the doctor could reply, he added, "It might make more sense to have a crew with some expertise, instead of a bunch of bubbleheads."

"Bubbleheads?" the doctor repeated Tom's unfamiliar phrase. "I've portrayed the Valorous crew as merely mediocre, to give the emergency hologram the opportunity to display his best qualities. Which, I must point out, is a common fictional technique. In fact, it's the classic presentation of a superhero. Consider Earth's Superman, or Bajor's Katu San, or, dare I mention your favorite, Captain Proton."

Damn. He should have seen that coming. Still, it wasn't the same thing. Captain Proton was a private role-playing holoadventure, not a holonovel for mass consumption. "Maybe," Tom conceded. "But Captain Proton bears no resemblance to reality. The similarities in your novel are obvious, and I doubt the crew will see it as flattery."

"I suspect the crew will understand the concept of creative license."

Tom wasn't so sure. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow night at your premiere."

"Yes we will," the doctor agreed heartily. "In the meantime, I have a few minor details to refine. Now that we'll have face to face contact with the Alpha quadrant, my publisher will be eager to see the finished product. Despite your criticism, I would like to solicit your opinion on one last matter, Mister Paris. What do you think of my holonovel's marketability?"

Tom started to make a snide comment, but the doctor was looking at him intently, obviously deferring to his greater experience, a rare occurrence. Tom looked again at the scene before him. Despite similarities the Voyager crew might find unflattering, the implausibly narrow escapes, campy villains, and often overblown dialogue, the holonovel escaped the surest death stroke of any story. It wasn't boring. In fact it was fast-paced, and funny, if sometimes unintentionally. It was also filled with larger than life, if derivative, characters, like the brain- sucking Dork.

The public would eat it up.

Tom sighed, and spoke the truth. "I predict a bestseller."