Season 1 - Episode 12: Spare Parts
August 1, 2371 (4 Months, 17 Days in the Delta Quadrant)

Spending early mornings in sickbay wasn't something I would have considered to become a routine part of my days on Voyager, but apparently when you have a Klingon girlfriend, even one who is only half, you have to learn to deal with the resulting injuries of a healthy night-life.

I couldn't argue with the results however. B'Elanna's productivity in Engineering had taken a noticeable jump, and she was smiling more often than usual. Her generally well-known tendency to snap at people over minor things had declined, as evidenced by the fact that less people were filing complaints with my department. The numbers hadn't dropped to zero, but you always had someone commenting that she'd been 'touchy', usually with a suggestion to go check on her. I couldn't tell if those people were actually concerned, or were just upset at her and wanted our department to hassle her. Either way, they were ignored, as usual. Another change I hadn't realized until Lt. Wood, with a knowing look, had commented on Torres being less reclusive, along with a statement that I was as well. Lastly, and something I hadn't expected, was that my nerves had settled, which hadn't happened since I'd gotten here.

With a little thought, I supposed I could understand why. On some level I was feeling less like an outsider, not just with the crew, but with this universe. Familiarity breeds contempt, but it also led to comfort with one's surroundings and circumstances, the unknown paradoxically both interesting and stressful. Many of the little things that we used every day have typically changed over a period of time in our minds from new and odd to old and familiar, to the point that we no longer had to stop and think about whatever it was when we encountered them. It could be anything, from the smell of the air, to the way the doors opened, to the constant, low-level hum of the engines, so faint that they were barely noticeable. Then drop in an entire lifetime of experiences where those things were normal and your old life was the weird one, and it made for a fractious existence. An existence, which, for some reason, had finally settled. I'd like to say that the initial period of fighting with my first and second lives for perspective on my situation was over, and that I had moved on to acceptance and unity between the two, but only time would tell if that was true.

Or maybe I just didn't feel so damn alone anymore.

Whatever the reason, it came with a noticeable amount of relaxation. So much so that Dalal had confronted me at one point and asked if I was okay or not. I couldn't really blame her. I'd been making sure to be seen in the mess hall, and had tried to talk to people, but I guessed a bit of my tensions had been seen by everyone else. As Lt. Dalal had dealt with me more than most of security, and she was trained to look for those signs, it only made sense that she'd noticed the kind of strain that could lead to a Security issue in the Chief of Security.

I wasn't completely without worry, as relaxed as most of the crew seemed to be, as if everything was perfectly fine and we'd be home in a few months without issue. That was impossible when I knew what kinds of threats lurked out there waiting for this ship. However, for whatever reason, I felt like we might be able to manage things, as long as nothing too terrible happened.

Watching the Doctor blink across the room, getting to me after an engineering Ensign that had burned her hand somehow, I smiled at him and asked, "How are you doing?"

The EMH looked up from the surgical tray for a moment, before grabbing a gun-shaped dermal regenerator and strolling over. "To what are you referencing, Commander?"

As he ran the device over the suspiciously claw-like cuts that ran down my left cheek, and the set of shallow punctures on my collarbone, I explained, as if discussing the weather, "I mean have you suffered from any unusual or unexpected events with your systems? The away mission to the holodeck to save Ensign Kim and the others a couple of weeks ago wasn't exactly a secret."

"I admit the experience was unsettling," he admitted, pausing for a moment in his work before returning to closing up my mild injuries. "I never expected someone to lay down their life for me, even if they were only programed to do so."

"Beowolf program. Let me guess, Freya?" I asked, curious how close to the original timeline event had been. I was still more than a little annoyed that, even with all the precautions I had been forcing through to the crew, trying to get people to think before they did things, that Janeway had still insisted on bringing aboard protostar material without even attempting to stop and consider that such a thing, if we lost containment, could near instantly destroy the ship. I couldn't blame anyone for not noticing that the material was actually a living organism, but that doesn't excuse their recklessness. I was informed that what materials she decided to bring aboard where her prerogative as Captain, and that I could make a formal report if I wanted, but I was under orders to leave it alone

"Yes," the Doctor offered shortly, "she took a blow that would have killed anyone else."

I smiled at the program, "Because that is what courageous people do for their friends. She would have only done so if she considered you a friend, which means you made a great impression on her."

His expression seemed pained for a moment, before it softened and he moved the regenerator to the marks on my neck. "I had no idea how… easily organic beings could come to care for another. I know Freya was a hologram, as am I, yet we are both programed to exhibit human emotions and emulate social attachments as if we were real. We did that so well that we became friends in minutes, while I have trouble with most of the crew."

"Not with me," I pointed out, smiling at him.

The Doctor smirked at me, adding, "Our mutual lack of social skills notwithstanding, I found the experience of playing the hero to be well at first. In retrospect, I wish the experience could have been given to another. I am a doctor, not a warrior."

"Why can't you be both?"

When he didn't answer, I added, "I suspect that you regret the experience because you couldn't save everyone? I could point out that because the program still exists, Freya is still here. In fact, because you played the role of warrior and saved the crew, you also saved Freya. You could go back there right now and say hello to her."

"It wouldn't be the same," he disagreed, to which I raised a hand, forestalling the rest of his response.

Pressing on, I agreed, "No, it wouldn't be the same. Assuming it wasn't a program for a moment, and that Freya had been flesh and blood and unique, she would be dead. But you didn't kill her, and you did what you could to save her. As a doctor, you know that not everyone can be saved."

"You also know that she died doing what she thought was right. She saved you, her friend, and thus the rest of her people as well. It was a warrior's death that would allow her much glory, and happiness, in Valhalla. It's what she would've wanted," I asserted, resting my hand atop his shoulder in friendly comradery. It was only after I did so that I realized my hand should've gone through him if he wasn't actively making a solid body, something he hadn't first done when I'd woken up on Voyager.

The EMH stared at me for a few moments, before carefully asking, "Commander, why is it that out of the entire crew, only you and Kes routinely speak to me as if I'm just another person? Most people attempt, and are even successful most of the time, but eventually slip into speaking to me like I'm their favorite tricorder."

'No flies on him,' I thought amusedly. I paused to think, having to phrase this carefully as we were treading down the 'does this unit have a soul' path, before finally going straight for it: "Because to me you are. You are artificial life, but life nonetheless. You are self-aware, you have wants and desires, you can grow and change and adapt. Even if it's programmed in you to do so, after a certain point, what's the difference? Just because you are based in a computer instead of a brain doesn't mean you are any less real to me."

A minute passed in silence, the hologram looking down and to the right, before the doctor reached for my arm and lifted up my sleeves to get at the marks hidden under them. As the work continued, he quietly remarked, "Thank you."

Silence fell around us as he continued to work on my wounds, but it was a comfortable one, and not at all unwelcome between us. Part of me was annoyed that the situation on the holodeck had occurred at all. Procedures were in place to warn the crew when experiments were in progress, and the holodeck was supposed to shut down before anything was transported aboard for study. I didn't even invent them, they had been in place since the late sixties because of things that had happened on the Enterprise and other deep space vessels, but the crews and captains seemed to relish in ignoring them just because the odds of anything happening were considered to be less than a percent.

I relished writing the reports damning everyone. Petty, yes but it kept me from berating those involved. Given that one of those was Janeway, who didn't exactly take even perceived challenges to her authority well, that was likely for the best..

On the other hand, the encounter with a photonic lifeform in the stars protomatter was what kicked off the EMH's path of growth and individuality. Without that encounter, I doubted he would have been as enraptured with the idea of being his own person. The odds of him loving opera, of singing and painting, may have been left unexplored at worst or greatly delayed at best. It set the basis for how the crew would come to see him as well, moving from a 'simple medical program' to a valued member of the crew. Part of me wondered if it was the experience, or the interaction with a being of pure energy, that caused the change. I'd likely never know.

Was this experience required? Probably not. I would've tried to ensure that he grew either way and eventually became the most human member of the entire crew. I just wasn't going to look a gift in the mouth. I was, however, going to still document its dentistry.

As the Doctor righted himself and carefully pressed on various parts of my torso, I smiled and asked, "So, am I going to live?"

Without missing a beat, the program nodded gravely, "This time, though it was a close thing. Fortunately for the both of you, yes I know you and Ms. Torres are romantically engaged," he snarked at me, rolling his eyes when I tensed. "You both keep showing up early in the mornings sporting claw and bite marks across your body and the occasional sprained joints. Either you have both taken up lion tamer as a hobby, or you are inflicting an unusual amount of damage on each other in the boudoir. Relax, I won't tell anyone."

I did relax at that, not having realized I'd tensed, "Right, doctor/patient confidentiality."

"Exactly," he nodded, standing back he crossed his arms and said, "and it is a good thing you are both in outstanding shape. The damage could be worse otherwise."

"That is why you are the doc, Doc. So, same time in, say, two days?" I asked, smiling at the man's scowl.

The intercom chirped to life, and I was greeted by the sound of Tuvok's stoic voice declaring, "Senior Staff, please report to the Briefing Room." The line closed immediately after, not bothering to tell us if the reason for the call was a ship in need, a planet we were to arrive at soon, or yet another anomaly for Janeway to poke at.

I sighed in frustration, activating my omni-tool a moment later and pulling up what I was calling the Voyager-Discord application, or Vodis for short. Not my invention, funnily enough, but one developed by Ensign Wildman. It took someone's earlier idea of a tool-to-tool text system and made it more robust and easy to use. Channels for different groups, the ability to message individuals or multiple people, and the capacity to share/archive images or video made it some kind of unholy mashup of what I knew as Discord and Youtube.

I loved it.

In the app, I wrote out, #Tuvok, unless it is an emergency, it may be better to use this app to inform us of meetings. We will get the message and you won't have to interrupt the rest of the ship to do so. I'm sure some people were sleeping.#

I barely had to wait for his immediate response of, #While true, that is not protocol. Until such a time as those protocols are changed, announcements to the crew will be delivered as they have been.#

'Well, that sucks,' I thought, annoyed. Most of the other departments were already using the app to coordinate work and set crew schedules, including my own. However, until the entire ship was on board, we were never going to maximize efficiency. At that thought, I paused, and let the annoyance go. I'd been having thoughts like that occasionally, where someone could be doing something better if they just changed what they were doing the slightest bit, and I'd had to stop myself from speaking up. It wasn't natural, and the feeling had been fading as time passed, but it was a little worrying.

"Sounds like you have someplace to be," the Doctor declared, drawing me from my thoughts so I could see him smiling smugly at me.

I dramatically shrugged and let out a long-suffering sigh for his amusement, "I guess that depends on if my doctor decides my health is a lower priority."

"Oh hush," the man shook his head at my antics. "I've healed you, for now. I recommend you both trim your fingernails."

"We did before this happened," I answered earnestly, mock confusion on my smiling face. "Should we wear gloves?"

"Somehow I doubt that will help," He deadpanned, walking away.

Before I left, I turned back and told the EMH, "I have been thinking about putting some lockouts on your program, to keep others from being able to do anything. Giving yourself the ability to shut down or activate when you wish to, and to prevent others from being able to do the same. I heard how the Captain granted you the ability to control your program, but I've noticed that there are no lockouts preventing people from overriding control or messing with your subroutines, like they would with a holodeck character."

The doctor stilled for a moment, and then nodded at me, "I think I would like that, but are you sure you have the power to… ah, yes, it would be a security issue, wouldn't it? Come back when you have some free time, Commander, and we can discuss further alterations to my program."

I nodded and turned around to head up to the meeting room.

It only took two minutes to get where I needed to go, and I wasn't surprised to find myself as the third person there. Chakotay and Tuvok were already seated in their usual spots, likely made aware of whatever this was before Tuvok had sent out his summons, and I took my place next to the Vulcan. There was little I could deduce from their body language; that they knew why the meeting was called and were unconcerned with it filled me with confidence. Tuvok had a cup of his morning tea before him, which was unusual, but normally we didn't gather for meetings at 0600 so I didn't know how to take that, except that he had recently awoke. Chakotay was wide awake with a drink of his own, and looked like he had been for some time, which was confusing because he wasn't due for duty for another few hours. They definitely knew what this was about, but either they, or Janeway, hadn't seen fit to warn us before calling us together at the crack of dawn.

Paris walked in soon after, yawning and sipping from a mug of coffee like it contained the secrets of the universe and moved towards the chair next to the First Officer. Kim followed him soon after, and judging from the wet hair had just gotten out of the shower. Torres strolled in looking refreshed and happy, smiling at me when she noticed I was there and took her seat next to me. When I went to sickbay she was still sleeping, and I fought down a small annoyance that she wasn't forced to get up early because her scratches were well hidden. I wasn't sure if I was happy or annoyed that I retained the control to keep them such, while she either didn't care, or wasn't in the state of mind where she could care, to do the same,

Neelix strolled into the room, with Kes followed behind, and I fought back a snort of laughter at seeing the Talaxian still wearing a sleeping cap. Kes looked like she had been awake for hours already, but that wasn't unusual for her. Almost to make up for the short lifespan of her species, Ocampa didn't need to sleep nearly as long as the rest of us, functioning on three hour "naps" every twelve hours or so. It made it difficult to schedule her in the crew shifts, but, since her normal work was acting as a nurse or tending to the Garden, it wasn't as big a deal as it could have been if she was a part of a more standardized rotation, like Engineering.

Tom, having blearily risen from death-warmed-over to just warmed-over, asked, "Anyone know what this is about?"

Chakotay and Tuvok glanced at each other, before the First Officer stated, "Yes, but you will have to wait for the Captain."

"Come on," Kim impatiently started, his voice pleading while his eyes flickered with interest as he glanced at the older men, "just give us a hint. What was so important that we had to have a meeting so early?"

"You will have to wait." Tuvok declared, decisively ending the line of questioning.

I stood up, seeing who was still missing, and moved to the screen on the far side of the room. Ignoring the inquisitive looks from those gathered, I tapped a few instructions into the console while they all talked back and forth, their eyes on me. After a moment, the Doctor's face greeted me, and he offered me a grateful nod.

Another thing to fix, I decided, was finding ways to make the EMH more portable. Being forced to wait for others to accept your call onto a monitor was inefficient, and more than a little sad given the Doctor's limited mobility. Torres and I had already been begun discussing the Omni-Tool successor, the Mark II, and the things we wanted it to be able to do. One of them was allowing for larger, more complex projections so that the EMH program could utilize the various emitters and project himself where needed.

They didn't have anything close to the memory required to host his program, but they would possibly enable him to go to the injured in an emergency, instead of waiting for them to come to sickbay. Anything that required an application or injection wouldn't work, as it was still just a hologram, but for traumatic injuries there was still a wide range of things he could do. The time spent waiting could potentially mean the difference between life and death, so the goal was to cut that down as much as possible.

It was still a work in progress, but it did show promise. Just getting the crew to use the original device had made me happy for now, so I could wait awhile and have the next generation device more in line with what I was wanting in the first place before we rolled it out.

As I retook my seat, the door slid open and Janeway strolled in with a mug of coffee in her hands. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept all night, with dark circles under her eyes and a slightly drawn look to her face. That didn't change the fact that she was alert and looked about ready to pounce on us. I also noticed that her left hand was shaking a little, likely from caffeine overload.

'Looks like everyone is burning through rations today,' I thought, amused.

"Thank you all for coming," she announced, moving to stand at the head of the table, "sorry about bringing you all in ahead of your duty shift, but this couldn't wait."

She continued her rounds around to the monitor, and mumbled, "Sorry about this, Doctor," as she tapped in a few commands. Seeing that we needed more monitors in this room, as well as general overhaul of its usefulness, I resolved to bring the matter up with the staff later.

'Meeting rooms should have command and control capability, the option to have a dozen consoles active at a time, and should look like something out of NORAD or at least the White House Operations Center.' I told myself, before making a quick note on my omni-tool.

Janeway cleared the screen, a blank black view all that remained, and then turned to us to say, "At 0421, I was alerted to an incoming transmission. When I got to the bridge, I shared an interesting conversation with a Mr. Iosif who had an intriguing offer for us."

At that she hit play and stepped to the side, the screen coming to life with an alien that, to my surprise and not so mild horror, looked a bit like our resident Talaxian only with black spots and hair instead of the typical reds and blondes Neelix sported. Given what I'd seen of Talaxians from the show, this did not bode well. He was also dressed very well for the local standards, with a sharp black suit that had faint gold-threaded flowers across his shoulders, almost reminiscent of Tuvix's original garb, but more formal. I'd already brought up why transporting unknown items was a Bad Idea, and why we still used shuttles more often than not, so hopefully that travesty wouldn't happen again. Then again, that required people to follow regulations, and that hadn't helped with the Beowulf program.

"Captain Janeway, a pleasure to finally talk to you. My name is Iosif, and I am an agent of the Ilm Corporation." the man on the screen said.

Neelix immediate cut in with a surprised, "Ohh!" before falling silent, not saying anything else.

Tapping the screen and pausing it, Janeway turned to our guide and asked, "Anything to add?"

"Oh yes," he began. It was a habit of Neelix's that I'd noticed, and irked me, that he only gave out information when asked directly. That helped in the moment, but it was too close to an infernal bargain than I liked. "Ilm Corporation is frankly prestigious in this sector. They are an interstellar corporation, you see. It's primary function is as the sectors largest mining company, with operations in more than seventy-star systems and ties to over a dozen different civilizations. It owns hundreds of subsidiary branches and divisions and more than a million employees across them!"

"A mining company?" Kim asked with disbelief.

Neelix puffed up a little, stating, "They are much more than just a mining company! They started in mining, but they expanded to energy production, infrastructure development and construction, chemical plants and refineries for all kinds of products, even general construction for homes and businesses. They've even put a few competitors out of business when they began to branch out into weapons research and development."

'Huh,' I told myself, mentally filing the corporation under 'Space Halliburton' in my mind. I never heard of them in the original show, but in retrospect massive corporate entities had to exist in regions of space that still used any kind of trade or currency. Even in the Federation, with their focus shifted away from wealth creation, there were massive trading companies that own their own moons and small planets. I'm more surprised that something like this doesn't come up more often. Probably not wanting filthy capitalism to interfere with the creator's vision of utopian space communism, or something. The longer I was here, the more I realized that, while everything I knew from the show was here, a lot of the missing connecting details were present as well, and those could trip me up.

Neelix continued, "This man, uh, Mr. Iosif, he looks to be a Mylenian. A distant relative to the Talaxians."

Janeway moved to continue the video, and I watched with rapt attention. "Our records indicate that you will be approaching fairly close to one of our operations in a few hours. We wish to hire you to help us with it."

While I couldn't see her, I could hear Janeway's voice come through the screen, "And what could we do for you?"

"We are having a bit of difficulty with a recent job," Iosif began, looking somewhat pained by the admission. "One of our salvage crews was contracted for a job, but my closest ship is suffering from some engine difficulties. There is a freighter that we need to recover for a client, nothing too difficult I'm told, and we have permission to do so, but I'm told that the cargo on board is perishable so we cannot afford the delay. By the time another of my ships can be dispatched, the goods would have spoiled, and we will lose our commission."

"I still don't understand what you are asking us to do," Janeway stated.

The Mylenian slowly nodded, "I'm asking if I can have you reignite the warp core and engage its autopilot to send it to some preset coordinates. An hour's worth of time and effort on your part, and only two days off your current course. In exchange, I will reimburse your ship for any consumables used, though they should be few, as well as provide updated star charts for the regions your ship is heading for, which I've heard you're looking for. At least what we know of them. There is a supply depot not too far out of your way that can I can send you the coordinates for upon completion of the job."

At that, Janeway tapped the screen again and closed the footage. The Doctor's face returned to the small screen, and the Captain walked back around to the head of the table. "I accepted the offer," she declared without concern.

"It sounds like a decent trade," Chakotay began immediately, looking at all of us as if daring us to disagree with the good captain, confirming he already knew about this beforehand as he continued, "the location is only three hours away from where we are now. The information Mr. Iosif provided us was limited as his initial survey team hasn't even made it out there, but his client is insisting we put a rush on repairs. They said that the ship doesn't need to be pretty or repaired, except enough to get the engines and navigation working. All that matters is that the ship makes it to them in time."

B'Elanna nodded, "Depending on the condition, that shouldn't be too difficult."

"Reimburse us for consumables," Tom began, "that doesn't sound like we are getting much out of this job. A little bit of fuel and food?"

Janeway waved the concern away, replying, "I managed to talk him around until he agreed to pay that plus an additional fifty percent on top. So we should come out ahead."

"What is the species of origin for the freighter?" Kim carefully asked. "Not that it matters, I'm just curious."

Janeway smiled at the young man, "No idea who the ship originally belongs to, but since the destination is in Haakonian space I would like to imagine it is theirs."

"I'm more concerned about why it is abandoned," I stated. "After all, you don't just abandon a ship in the middle of empty space. Something had to have happened to it. More than that though, if it's abandoned, how do they know it has perishable cargo on it? Salvage operations and spoilable goods don't usually go together." It wasn't just the fact that I didn't know what was happening here, something about this entire thing stank. From Janeway's suddenly tight expression, she either hadn't considered that, or I'd said something else which she took issue with.

Tuvok nodded, answering for her, "Indeed. The Corporation was decidedly not forthcoming about the details regarding its current status, only insisting that what happened to it didn't matter nearly as much to them as ensuring the contract was completed."

The Captain sat in her chair, took a sip of the drink in her hands, and then stated imperiously, "I initially agreed to this request because it sounded like it would be interesting, and perhaps we could learn something in the process. Not to mention recover some supplies. Now, after hearing what Mr. Neelix had to say, I'm more confident in my decision. Doing a favor for this Ilm may make us some much needed friends, and if they are as wide spread as they seem it could be to our benefit. Having a potentially safe port for any future storms can only be a good thing. After all, our time in the Delta Quadrant hasn't exactly shown us in the best of light."

I noticed that she looked at me at the last part, but I couldn't find it in myself to care. The fact that she hadn't even bothered to respond to my concerns or points wasn't even surprising anymore.

Chakotay picked up the conversation as the silence started to stretch, "Torres, ready an engineering team. I'm suggesting two teams, one for the engines and one for the navigation systems on the bridge."

"Understood," she answered, padd already out as she looked over the schematics.

Tuvok then added, "Shepard, I suggest you ready two teams as well to act as a support for them as we do not know what could potentially be waiting on board."

"Was already planning on it," I agreed, wondering why the Vulcan felt the need to state the obvious. He had been like that for the last few weeks with me, stating protocol and insisting I follow it when I was already doing so. Was it because he expected me not to? Was it a power move, my doing my job seeming like I was only able to do so by following his orders? My training outlined a number of reasons why, and only a few of them were benign.

I suspected that whatever conversation Tuvok and Janeway had after we left Sikaris had something to do with it, but I couldn't prove it. I only even knew it happened because of the show, as nothing was said officially and, as far as the crew knew, nothing had happened.

Janeway smiled around the room, happy her will was being followed, and proclaimed, "Well, we have three hours to get ready. Lets get to it."