Hello again all. This Chapter would have been up sooner, but I had to rework it. KaeKaeD was kind enough to point out a pretty big flaw and I had to rework the chapter. I think that its better for it, so special thanks to KaeKaeD!
"I'm telling you, Doc, it wasn't a dream," Spike said, "It was her!"
After explaining what had happened to Riker, the Captain had rudely told him have the Doctor check him out. In hindsight, Spike could understand his attitude, but at the time he felt like he was being brushed off. The Doctor had listened patiently while scanning him, then had politely suggested that it might have been a very vivid dream.
"Well, usually an out of body experience like what you have described would leave some kind of sign," the Doctor said, "Then again, some of my instruments tell me that you're alive and others tell me that you're dead, so what do I know?"
The Doctor stopped scanning and closed his instrument. He seemed to think for a moment before speaking again, "I'll be honest, Spike. I'm not the one to ask regarding anything spiritual. My very existence is technological in nature. Matters regarding what you would call the 'soul' are more than just a little out of my league. Tuvok is on board, and I happen to know that he is a very spiritual man. He might be able to help you understand your…vision."
Spike jumped off the bed, "I understand the bloody thing just fine. Willow's alive and I have to save her."
"Calm down, Spike," the Doctor said, "We can't do anything about it right now. Why don't you go and get some sleep?"
Spike thought it over, but in the end he let out a heavy sigh, "I can't sleep now. Willow's out there somewhere and I'm too worried. Is there anything I can do while I'm up?"
"Actually, yes," the Doctor said, picking up a small device like the one Spike had seen him wear before, but somehow clunky looking in comparison, "I need a flesh and blood person to try out my new mobile cloaking unit. Follow me please."
Spike stood and followed as the Doctor lead him to a spot in front of an eyeball mounted on a stand. Wires came out of it, leading to a little console on the table. Spike noticed a monitor in the wall that showed him an image of himself from the view of the eye. The Doctor put the device on Spike's arm before walking over to the console and pressing a button. The device on his arm clicked and he saw his own image on the monitor become fuzzy, like a bad TV signal. He realized, to his amazement, that the rest of the image was crystal clear.
"Neat Doc," he said, "How'd you do that?" The Doctor walked over with an instrument in his hand and started adjusting the little device.
"It's similar to my mobile emitter," he answered as he worked, "It holds a very simple hologram a few microns from your skin. Unlike my mobile emitter, it can't hold a force field or any sort of complex programming. I'm using it to create a hologram that covers your body and emits at a frequency that the creatures won't be able to see. There," he said as he finished, "That should do it."
The Doctor walked back to the console and hit a button, and Spike's image became ghostly on the monitor. It reminded him uncomfortably of the few months he spent as a specter in Wolfram and Hart. Those had been some of the most difficult days of his existence. But then he had met Fred. She was bright, cheery, and cute as a button. She had been the only one in that office who hadn't judged him as the bad guy immediately. Then Illyria had taken that away. Spike wanted to hate her for it, wanted to destroy the evil bitch for taking Fred away from all of them. But he couldn't. In the end, she had proven an ally, and a friend. Plus, she was the only part of Fred still left in the universe and he couldn't destroy that.
Spike suddenly realized that the Doctor was at his side adjusting the device again. He idly wondered how long the man had been standing at his side while he was lost in his own thoughts.
"Hey Doc," Spike said, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," the other answered.
"What're the police going to do about what's-his-name?" he asked, "The one we only found a few smears of."
The Doctor stopped working. "Spike, his name was Chakotay," he said, straightening, "Please, try to show some respect."
"Sorry Doc," Spike said, feeling slightly guilty, "Was he a friend of yours?"
"Something like that," the Doctor answered, "He was the first officer of the ship where I was first activated. I was originally designed to be a supplement if the medical staff was incapacitated or killed. I was activated on star date four eight three one five." When Spike gave him a confused look, the Doctor went on, "That was eighteen years ago. Needless to say, I wasn't designed to be on this long. At first, I railed against it. I couldn't turn myself off when people left. I spent countless hours with literally nothing to do. When they did remember to turn me off, they did so without asking if it was convenient. They treated me like a hypospray, never speaking directly to me unless they had too. Then a brilliant young woman named Kes, whom I had been training as a nurse, and our captain convinced me that I no longer had the luxury of thinking of myself as just the EMH. At their urging, I began to assert myself and demand the respect that any other officer on the ship would get. Eventually, the others began to accept me as part of the crew. We spent seven years stuck on the other side of the galaxy, cut off from Starfleet. In that time, I grew into myself and truly became an individual beyond my programming. We, that is, the crew became something like a family. I have never been closer to anyone than I was to those people."
Spike felt touched by his words. This artificial man had something that few flesh and blood people in the world ever got. Not only did he have it, but he cherished it. It was something that Spike, by his very nature, would probably never achieve. Spike was the lone wolf, the solitary warrior standing against the hoards of evil constantly being thrown his way.
"Times change, though," the Doctor went on, "I'm not even sure where most of the other crew members are now. Janeway's dead, and now Chakotay. I can only guess about Seven."
A look passed for an instant over the Doctor's face, a look that he knew well. Seven was very clearly more than just a friend to the Doctor. Judging by the pain in that look, she never returned his affections. But the pain wasn't just for unrequited love, but also worry over what might have happened to her, concern that she might be dead or worse.
"So what are we going to about it?" Spike asked.
The Doctor let go of a heavy sigh, "What can we do? We have assume that she is alive and being held by the borg."
"That makes sense," Spike said, "What about the bloke, Chakotay?"
The Doctor frowned, "Federation Security is down there right now, gathering evidence. Though I suspect that they won't find much more than we did. I think that he was murdered by the borg as they took Seven." The Doctor was silent for a time. Talking about this 'Seven' person was clearly hurting him.
"Well," he said suddenly, "The only thing we can do is prepare and hopefully get her, and your friend, back." With that, the Doctor pressed a button and Spike saw his image disappear entirely from the monitor. Amazed, he moved his arms, and still nothing. Moving his arms more quickly, he saw what looked like a ripple about where he guessed his arms would be.
"That's pretty good, Doc," Spike said.
"Yes," the Doctor, not sounding as convinced, "There still seems to be a slight displacement when you move. We'll have to be sure to not move to quickly if there looking at us. And we'll need to be in small teams. The more movement, the more likely it is that we'll be spotted."
The Doctor turned off the device, causing Spike to reappear on the screen. Removing the device from Spike's arm, the Doctor turned off the monitor and set everything down on the table. Spike, not sure what to do next, decided to ask a question that had been bugging him all day.
"Hey Doc," he said, "Why don't you have a name?"
The Doctor thought for a long moment. Seeming to make a decision, he walked over to a little stand and pick up his mobile emitter.
"Why don't we talk over a drink?"
The two men walked into Vogan's a few minutes later and sat down. It took a few minutes for one of the staff bartenders to come and take Spike's order. The Doctor was silent until Spike's drink was half gone. The vampire waited patiently, knowing that he would answer in time. After all, the man had asked him to have a drink.
"In the first couple of years of my existence, I tried for a couple of names. The first was Schweitzer. I chose it at the urging of Kes, the brilliant young woman I told you about earlier. I was going on my first away mission, though admittedly, it was only to the ship's holodeck. She suggested that choosing a name might make me feel more like part of the crew. I chose Schweitzer because Doctor Emanuel Schweitzer pioneered the use of laser scalpels in the operating room. You see, in his day…," The Doctor must have seen the look on Spike's because he suddenly regained his train of thought, "Anyway, the mission was an attempt to find out what had happened to our missing crewmen. They disappeared while running the holo-novel; Beowulf. To make a long story short-"
"Too late," Spike interrupted, smirking.
"-I became attached to one of the characters," the Doctor continued as though he hadn't heard Spike, "She was killed trying to protect me. The bitter irony is that I didn't need protection. As a hologram, I am immune to injury. The last time I heard that name was on her lips. The name was too attached to that painful memory to continue using it."
He sat for a moment in silence, apparently lost in the memory. Slowly, his features softened, leading Spike to believe he had hit upon a more pleasant memory.
"A little less than a year later, I met a remarkable young woman by the name of Danara Pel. She was a hematologist, helping her people. Most of her people, the Vidiians, were suffering from an incredibly infectious disease called the Phage. I was able to extend her life significantly by giving her a neural tissue graft from a member of our crew whose DNA was resistant to the disease. While she was on the ship, she and I became involved. She named me Shmullus, after her uncle. When she left, it didn't seem right to have anyone but her using that name. I only saw her on other time after that. About two months later, our captain and first officer became infected by an insect bite. At great risk to herself, Denara got us a vaccine that was able to cure them. I remember the joy I felt at the sound of my name, the name that she had given me, on her lips. There was so much I wanted to say, but we were in the middle of a battle and there were lives at stake."
"You didn't you look her up again?" the vampire asked.
"I couldn't," the Doctor answered, "It was too dangerous. Her people fought the disease by taking the organs and tissue from other, healthy people and adapting them for transplant into their own bodies. As a ship with over one hundred and fifty healthy people, and with reinforcements more than seven hundred light years away, we were a prime target. After that, I guess I gave up on the search for a name. From then on, I was 'The Doctor'."
Spike nodded. "Let me tell you something, Mate. I understand the pain that came with losing a love. I've lost my own a time or two. And I get that choosing a name is hard. Hell, I went by 'William the Bloody' for decades. It took some rather creative work with a railroad spike to finally shake it. One time I-"
The Doctor held up a hand, "Please, I'd rather not know. I am curious though, what was wrong with 'William the Bloody'? It seams like perfectly fine vampire name, from what I know about vampires."
Spike chuckled, "It is if you don't know the story behind it. People called me that before I was turned though. They called me that because they all thought my poetry was bloody awful. Every time I heard someone call me that, it reminded me of the night I was turned. That was horrible night. I was at the low point of my life, and then I met Dru."
"Yes," the Doctor said, "You mentioned her earlier. She was your…what was the word you used?"
"Sire," Spike answered, "That's what we call the one who turns us. I thought she had opened up a whole new world for me. Looking back on it now, I'm grateful it happened, but now I realize that she was just a crazy berk. Anyway, at first I saw a delicious irony in using the name that my first victims had tormented me with. When reality finally caught up with me though, I only saw the pain in it. That's when I got creative."
The Doctor was quiet for a minute, during which Spike finished the last of his drink.
"So what your saying," he finally said, "Is that I should get creative, do something that will earn a name."
Spike shrugged, "Honestly, I'm not sure what I'm saying anymore."
"Riker to the Doctor," Riker's voice suddenly sounded.
The Doctor tapped his badge, "Doctor here."
"I need you and Spike to come to the bridge. There's something you need to see."
As the turbolift made its way to the bridge, Spike's words played over and over again in the Doctors mind. He wanted a name. He'd wanted a name for almost two decades. Now, he wasn't sure if it was possible. In all of the logs and historical records that referenced him, he was listed as 'EMH NCC 74656 aka The Doctor'. If he did choose a name, would anyone bother changing those records? Would they still include his registry? Would his name be listed as aka?
The turbolift doors opened, revealing the bridge. Riker stood in front of his chair, facing them. As he looked at the captain's unkempt appearance, the Doctor realized that he must have just woken up. Spike followed him to just behind the captain's chair as he gave Riker a questioning look.
Without looking away from them, Riker ordered, "Play the message again, Ensign."
A human Starfleet officer appeared on the view screen, sitting at a desk. He was in his thirties with a head of thick black hair and a full beard to match. "This is Commander Anderson of Starfleet Security. We found some disturbing information regarding the murder of Chakotay and the disappearance of Annika Hanson. As you well know, we were skeptical of your theory that the alien threat you faced in the Neutral Zone had anything to do with this. New information has surfaced that may support your theory," the man picked a pad and read from it, "We found additional remains that suggest that Chakotay has been dead for at least a month. Within a few days of the estimated time of death, on stardate six six four four zero, a strange energy serge occurred in the atmosphere directly above the victims' residence. A sensor scan of the area revealed no further anomalies and so the matter was dropped. A week later, on stardate six six four six zero, the strange energy readings were first detected by Deep Space Six Coming out of the Neutral Zone. Further, we have found no trace that Annika Hanson has been in the residence since Chakotay's death. It is now believed that what ever killed Chakotay abducted Annika Hanson, fled Earth and made its way to the Neutral Zone, where it set the trap for the Davenport." The man put down the pad. "It appears that you were right, Captain. These aliens seem to be responsible for Chakotay's Murder and Hanson's disappearance. Good Hunting." The screen went blank.
Captain Riker turned back to the Doctor. "We received that subspace message less than an hour ago. What do you make of it?" he asked.
Before the Doctor could say anything, Spike answered, "We prepare."
The Doctor turned to Spike, "What do you mean?"
"We already knew that these borg things took the girl and killed the bloke," he answered, "We have a battle plan. Now we prepare. We make sure we're ready. You can bloody well bet they'll be ready for us."