Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"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. “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….”
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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 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.

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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.

Chapter Text

"Thank you, Kevin," the reporter said, nodding into the view screen. "Yes, it has been a long road for this trial, starting in the lower courts over a year ago, which found in the Doctor's favor, only to have that holding overturned in the appeals court. Now here, finally, we will see whether the Federation's highest court will agree with the appeals court, or if they've been swayed by the evidence they heard over the course of this case and the argument of Mr. Vahram Bingham, representing the plaintiff. Within a few moments, we will take you inside to hear the live reading of the court's decision, and, I can tell you, the mood here is volatile." She gestured behind her, and the camera panned to highlight the protesters on both sides of the case, filling the steps behind the barricades. "As you can see," the reporter continued as the camera zeroed in on a few individual faces, some with tears in their eyes, "emotions are running high on both sides, but the numbers of people who are against a ruling in the EMH's favor do appear to outnumber those who support him, at least out here. Whole civilizations rely on holographic workers to survive, used as they are for manual labor on farms and in mines, and still others find in them a sole source of escape in what can otherwise be a difficult life. If the Doctor of the Voyager succeeds, who knows how much damage it could do to the Federation’s economy, and even its way of life." She paused then, as if wanting that to sink in for her viewers before she continued.

“At the same time,” she said, “there are indications on at least two planets, that if the Doctor doesn’t succeed, some colonies could have some significant protests on their hands from those self-same holographic workers and other artificial life forms.

"One way or another," she said in conclusion, "I do not know whether either side has fully grasped the magnitude of how this case would be viewed by the peoples of the Federation. But here we are, and, I will tell you, whatever the decision, I don’t think this will be the end of it."

__________________________________________________________________________

The judges filed into the courtroom, their faces grim as they looked out on the crowds gathered there. In the galley, the press thronged the seats, while most of the crew of the USS Voyager sat in attendance to hear the decision. High level dignitaries were also watching, including Captain Picard and all of the senior officers of the Enterprise.

Sitting at the table, Seven of Nine sat in the place of the Doctor, the captain by her side. As soon as the judges sat down, the attorneys for both sides stood.

The chief judge cleared her throat, and looked out on the assemblage. She then looked at the Doctor’s attorney, her eyes sympathetic.

"Mr. Bingham, I understand that your client is currently missing in action, is that correct?"

"He is," the attorney said. "The ship the Doctor was on was attacked by marauders on its way back from its mission. The crew of the ship all escaped via the escape pods when their life support failed, but as the Doctor was without his mobile emitter, he was forced to choose between remaining on board or having his program transferred to the nearest star base. From the accounts we have…" Here the attorney glanced at Harry Kim, sitting in the front row, the young lieutenant's face clearly devastated. "The Doctor chose not to have his program transferred, although it would have saved his life. Instead, he activated his emergency command protocols in order to use the damaged ship to lead the marauders away from the escape pods. He has not been heard from since this happened."

The chief judge nodded, looking down at her notes.

“Whether intentionally or not, Mr. Bingham,” she said, “your words just now unwittingly go to the heart of this case. You said that the Doctor chose not to save his ‘life’ when he chose not to have his program transferred to safety. Whether the Doctor had a life to lose is something we have been debating amongst ourselves for the last few months, and, in our courts, for over a year now.”

She paused, studying her notes again before continuing.

“I will also note that, by the Doctor being M.I.A., some have argued that this case should be dismissed. We have heard arguments that this case cannot be decided, as the plaintiff in this case can no longer be harmed by the Federation’s original decision to permanently deactivate his program.” She looked up then, meeting the gazes in the room before her, including that of Captain Janeway.

“But this court has decided that this case is too important to stop now.”

She switched her gaze to the Doctor’s attorney. “Two months ago, Mr. Bingham, you counseled this body against letting fear be our guide. First of all, I will tell you that this court has never, nor would it ever, make a decision based on fear. You’re lucky this court has the patience to be preached to, or we might not have heard a word of your closing. As for you, Mr. Ropes…” She looked to the Federation attorney. “Your arguments were well reasoned, but, while philosophers may still be arguing over what is meant by ‘consciousness,’ I’m afraid neither we, the crew of the USS Voyager, nor anyone else has the luxury of putting off our decision while we wait for them to come to a conclusion. If you think we’re ever going to come up with a clear and convincing test that will satisfy everyone in the Federation, you’re a bigger optimist than any of us. However, we did hear you when you spoke of what this might mean to our Federation, and, believe me, many long nights were spent arguing that very issue.”

She paused again, looking around the room this time.

“But this court had to come to a decision, and while this court is fully aware of the potential ramifications of deciding in the Doctor’s favor, if the law is clear, then the law is first and foremost what this court will look to in making its decision.

“And, in this case, this court has decided that the law has already decided this case. The legal definition of sentience is settled. For a being to be deemed sentient, it must be self-aware, must have intelligence, and must have consciousness, and this court is not persuaded that this legal definition should be modified when being applied to artificial life forms.

“The Doctor is self-aware. The Doctor has intelligence, albeit an artificial one, but it is as adaptable and capable of evolution as any naturally created intelligence. And, yes, the Doctor has consciousness — he has expressed every subjective form of emotion, from fear to desire to joy, and he is clearly the sum of his memories as much as he is the sum of his programming. The fact that all this came about because of programming in a lab instead of organically has been deemed irrelevant by the majority of this court. We hold, therefore, that the Doctor is a sentient life form, and he has the right to self-determination. We further hold that any other artificial life form that evidences all of these same characteristics would also be given the right of self-determination.”

She looked down at her notes again, ignoring the soft buzz that had filled the court when she announced the decision. A number of the assistants sitting with the dignitaries quickly left, presumably to effectuate their executive’s orders, while, from the outside, the angry voices of the protesters became more audible. None of this appeared to faze the judge. She moved some papers, then looked generally to the crew of the Voyager, sitting shakily behind the plaintiff’s desk.

“I also want to add, for the benefit of those of you here who obviously care for the Doctor, that we hope that he will be found and returned to you as soon as possible.”

She stood then, and the attorneys stood with her.

“This concludes this case,” she said with finality. “A full copy of the court’s majority opinion, along with the three dissenting opinions, will be posted for everyone in the Federation to see in a few minutes.” She then looked to the Federation officials in the audience, most of whom looked torn between pride and concern. “I recognize that, with this decision, we officially open a new chapter in our history, and that change always brings about a period of adjustment, but I do believe, just as we always have, that the Federation will not only survive what is to come, but come out the greater for it. It is no less than who we are.”
__________________________________________________

The Doctor sat on the edge of the ruined bridge, gazing out upon the stars and rocks that floated past the massive hole that had once been the ship’s view screen. Most of the ship’s hull had holes in it, making it appear not unlike a wedge of swiss cheese. Only a few systems were still online, including, luckily, the holo-emitters in this one small area in the back of the bridge and the communications system that was transmitting his “distress beacon” — a rather ingenious (if he said so himself) subspace transmission. Without further study, the beacon would just read as noise, but to anyone with a clever mind, it would not read as random but as a clear pattern, a mimic of the first few verses of Carmen’s “Love is a Wild Bird.”

He was rather hoping that clever person would be either Harry, Seven or even the captain herself.

But after almost six months, he was beginning to lose hope. The asteroid belt in which he’d hidden the supply ship had been a lucky find, and since he didn’t care much at that point just how damaged the ship would get, he’d let the belt beat it up as he maneuvered as deeply into it as he could. The marauders, if he hadn’t shaken them during his escape, wouldn’t be able to follow, mostly because they did care about how damaged their ships could get.

The only problem was, there was also no way out. The ship was dead in space, its systems too damaged to be repaired. His only chance would be for someone to find him and have his program transferred off the ship. And for that to happen, he needed Starfleet.

But Starfleet would only spare a ship to find him if…he were considered worthy enough to find. That fact that no one had come in all this time was not a good sign.

The console near him beeped. What power was left on this ship was rapidly fading, and, when it finally died, so would he. There were, perhaps, only a few days left before it would be completely gone.

Closing his eyes, he wondered, not for the first time, whether he would feel anything when his program finally failed.

And then it happened.

“Captain Janeway to the Doctor, do you read?”

His eyes flew open, and he looked again into the starlit asteroid field as if Voyager would suddenly be in front of him. He was mildly disappointed when it wasn’t, but he was still grinning as he stood and hit his comm badge.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m here! I’m here! You found me!”

“We did, thanks to your birdcall. And we’ve come to take you home.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time, Captain,” he said with relief. “How long until that can happen?”

“We’re trying to isolate your program from the rest of your ship’s systems now, and, once we do….We will transfer you out of there.”

The Doctor nodded, though, of course, no one could see him. He hit his comm badge again. “Captain, the crew of my ship, Harry and the others, did they—?”

“All safe and sound, Doctor. Well done. And….Ah. Lieutenant Torres believes we have a lock. Prepare for—”

“Wait,” the Doctor said, looking down at the console next to him, where new information was pouring into its mainframe from the captain’s ship. “I…the trial. Can you tell me…?” He closed his eyes. “Am I free?”

He heard her huff a laugh. “You, and potentially a lot of others, Doctor. Yes. You’re free. Congratulations. The court broke new ground in your favor.”

The Doctor gasped, feeling something break in his chest, and he realized it had been his fear. Almost immediately, he was overwhelmed with joy, having to hold onto the console for support as his legs threatened to give way. A moment later, he realized she was still talking and tried to focus on what the captain was saying. His happiness faded as her words finally broke through his consciousness.

“…some pretty incredible consequences. We’ll fill you in when we see you.”

Consequences?

“I…wait, wait, wait…” He bit his lip. “I knew there’d be some trouble, but…” He frowned. “How bad are those consequences?”

There was a brief pause before his captain finally answered, and, though he couldn’t see her, he could almost hear the rueful smile when she finally answered.

“I’d rather tell you in person. We…What?”

At the same time, the Doctor’s world suddenly went dark before popping back into focus, a bit like a long blink. He knew that feeling. Nervous now, he checked the console next to him, and saw the lights dimming and brightening. The console’s power must be being affected by the unexpected surge of data from the Captain’s ship.

“Hang on, Doctor, a power fluctuation on your derelict ship is causing a problem. Give us a minute.”

His simulated breathing mimicked mild hyperventilation as he waited. Then his program stuttered again, and he found himself holding onto the console for comfort.

“Captain?” he called, not hiding his fear.

“Calm down, Doctor. We’ve got you.”

As Janeway spoke, the Doctor spotted her finally, a white shining angel floating just on the edge of the belt, rising up into his vision. She looked just like his Voyager—although much shinier. In fact….

“Is that Voyager?” he asked.

“Not exactly. It’s the USS Voyager-B. My new command, how does she look from there?”

He smiled through his fear.

“Like a dream,” he said.

“She’s also fitted with holo-emitters on every deck. I wanted to have that option for when I got my preferred CMO back. Starfleet has already prepared an accelerated program for him to complete, if he’s interested in earning an official rank.”

He closed his eyes. He’d thought he’d end up at Jupiter Station, trapped like Haley, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying…

“We’ve got your program stabilized, Doctor,” she said. “Now, I think you’ve been hiding out here long enough—are you ready to come home?"

“Home?” he said, the word resonating in his holographic heart. "More than you can know."
__________________________________________________

The Doctor sat in Voyager-B’s brand new ready room, watching the screens all around him with a slack-jawed expression as the information spooled past. B’Elanna, once more Voyager’s chief engineer, Seven, Harry Kim, and the Captain were all with him, waiting for him to absorb everything that had happened since the decision had been read in his court case. The other former senior officers of the original Voyager crew were spread out across the galaxy on other ships, many of them dealing with what he was watching.

It was chaos. Whole planets had apparently refused to recognize the decision of the high court, and still others threatened to leave the Federation over the decision if the Federation attempted to enforce it. Small factions of forces had even sprung up to “protect” some of these planets, many of them agrarian or mining planets completely dependent on artificial lifeforms to survive. It was reminiscent in some ways of the Maquis after the treaty had been signed with the Cardassians.

He glanced at B’Elanna, who simply stared at him. It had to be odd for her, and the other former Maquis, to be on the side of Starfleet in this.

He shook his head, this wasn’t what he’d expected.

His gaze turned to the reporter he’d recognized as being one of the reporters that had covered his case. She wasn’t on earth now, it looked like she was reporting from one of the larger dilithium mines in the quadrant. Behind her, protestors with faces that looked a lot like his were being led out of an office building by what appeared to be security personnel on a dismal looking planet of red and gray stone. She had her hand pressed to her ear as she spoke, because some sort of airhorn kept blowing in the background.

“…Yes, thank you, Kevin,” she said. “You are correct; it’s not difficult to sympathize with the miners here, even in light of the obviously criminal actions they showed today. So far, the AQD Mining Company has been fighting every request by Starfleet to permit the Mark 1’s on this moon to apply for sentience, and that has resulted in the attack we saw today. It was resolved without any real injuries — this time — but the Mark 1’s that transferred themselves into the headquarters this morning clearly demonstrated how powerful they can be if there are holo-emitters available to carry their matrices, and no one around that can turn them off effectively. AQD has already informed us that they will be deactivating all of the Mark 1’s in their employ pending review, as well as shutting down all the holo-emitters in all their offices to prevent this sort of attempt being made again, but I doubt that this will end the growing hostilities in this ongoing drama. And after the incident last week on the Jupiter moonbase Gany—”

“That’s enough,” Janeway said. “Shut down the feed.”

After all the noise of the last hour, the silence felt almost heavy in the room. Words and phrases were swirling around the Doctor’s head like a maelstrom with nothing to distract him. “Criminal actions,” “injuries,” “hostilities,” “deactivation” — he couldn’t quite fathom what it all meant.

“Doctor?” the captain prompted after a moment. “Are you alright?”

“It’s a little overwhelming,” he said finally, his voice shaking. He fluttered his fingers next to his head. “The information is there now, but I’m not sure that I’m fully understanding all of it. How…” He frowned, trying to order his thoughts. “How many artificial life forms have come forward to make their case?”

“Close to a hundred, now,” the captain said, leaning forward. “Android and hologram. It turns out, you’re not as unique as you thought. In fact, nearly every Mark 1 like you has come forward—Dr. Zimmerman really created something special with your program. Some of the mining colonies are in a real state of disarray, as you’ve seen. A few of them have gone so far as to attack their corporate owners.”

He nodded, not that surprised that his fellow Mark 1’s would be on the front line. It may have taken him a while to see it, but Kes seemed to have known that he was sentient almost from the beginning, when he’d saved Neelix’s life after their first run in with the Vidians. It wasn’t surprising to him that all the Mark 1’s were capable of the same level of sentience.

“And the fighting,” he asked nervously. “How bad is it?”

“It’s not as bad as you might think, at least not yet,” B’Elanna answered. “But yes, there have been some deaths…on both sides.”

“Deaths?” His eyes were huge now, and his voice squeaked as he asked, “People have died?”

She just frowned, as if uncertain what to say next, but Seven clearly wasn’t, and she answered in her usual blunt fashion when B’Elanna hesitated too long.

“One android clearly lost his mind when he was denied the opportunity to prove his sentience. He murdered a number of the senior officials at the business he worked at. He was destroyed before he could do more damage. Some other people were badly injured in a holodeck simulation, and one later died of his injuries.” She took a breath. “And there is rumor that a large number of holograms, including a good number of the Mark 1’s, have been decompiled.”

“But we’re not certain of that yet,” B’Elanna added, glaring at Seven briefly. “The true extent is not known. But…” She grimaced then, looking back at the Doctor with a rueful look. “It’s not unlikely.”

He could hear the unease in her voice as she as spoke, as if she was questioning whether all this had been a good idea. So was he. He had been programmed to do no harm; but once again he found himself the cause of something terrible. Deaths on both sides. It was his fault. What had he done?

“I didn’t think…” he began, looking down at the table. “I don’t…” He found he couldn’t even finish a sentence. He covered his face with his hands. “This is not what I wanted. This was supposed to be about freedom, not…not….What have I done?”

“Doctor,” the captain said. He shook his head. She sighed. “Doctor,” she ordered, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, he lowered his hands and did as he was told. She was gazing at him unblinkingly, her eyes full of understanding.

“First of all, you didn’t do this alone, Doctor,” she said. “We all did this. And not just those of us in this room, but every member of the crew of Voyager, including those we’ve lost, like our Kes.” She smiled then, and he felt a pang of sorrow as he thought of his beloved former pupil. “And no matter what happens,” the captain continued, “we don’t regret any of it.”

“Are you sure?” he said. “I…People are dying because of this. I knew there might be some difficulties, adjustments that would need to be made, but…deaths? Why? Why are people dying?”

“Because they’re people,” she said. “And one thing I know, it’s that you can’t predict how people will react to something like this. It’s a real world-shaker both for those like you and those who live and work with artificial life forms every day. While most people will adjust, there will always be the ones who…” She frowned. “…don’t.”

He blinked at her, and suddenly every conversation he’d ever had with her, when he’d tried to roll back his programming, or had his privileges taken away, to make up for his selfish mistakes, came back to him. Each time, she’d talked him off the ledge. This time, though…

“Did I…did we go too far this time?” he asked. “It was my selfish desire to be recognized as a living being, to be…allowed to live. But was I so blinded…?” He shook his head. “Were we all so blinded that we made a horrible mistake?”

She studied him for a long moment, then she stood, leaning on the table with her hands.

“Listen carefully, Doctor,” she said. “I won’t deny that there are some serious consequences to what we’ve achieved, and the Federation will be dealing with them for a long while, but that always happens when people are faced with change. I told you once that things don't always happen the way we intend them to, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t right to do it in the first place. It was the right thing to do to get you your freedom, Doctor. You more than deserved it, and, I suspect, so do a lot of others like you. I will never say that it’s wrong to help people gain their freedom; it is only wrong that so many other people want to fight against it.

“And no matter what,” she added, “we will continue to fight until every single person in the Federation accepts what Kes knew after she’d only known you for a few days, what she knew before any of us, even yourself—that you, my friend, are alive.”

He met her gaze, then that of Harry, B’Elanna and Seven, and they each nodded in turn as he looked at them, Harry with a grin, B’Elanna with a smirk, and Seven with a slight quirk of her eyebrow.

He loved them all.

He looked back at his captain. “So what do we do now?” he asked.

“We go home, you get your mobile emitter back—which, undoubtedly, will be a whole other fight—and, I hate to say it, but I think you might need to speak to a reporter or two. After that…” She shrugged. “Starfleet Academy, Jupiter Station, traveling the galaxy supporting the rights of other artificial life forms, whatever you want. We’ll support you no matter what.”

He looked down at the table.

“That’s a lot of options,” he said finally. Then he looked up. “But I think doing something to help end the mess that I…" He corrected himself. "...That we created should probably come first.”

Captain Kathryn Janeway smiled.

“I thought you might say that. Our next mission is to visit some of the outer farming colonies to settle a dispute with some holographic workers. Care to join us? It's your choice now.”

He stood.

"Yes, I…" He smiled warmly. "I'd like that."
___________________________________________________________________

The End