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'Please state the nature…of the medical emergency,' the EMH finished lamely. This wasn't Voyager. It wasn't the sickbay, the holodeck, or the engineering lab where Lieutenant Torres had spent so much time keeping his program up to scratch. Instead of any of these places, he found himself in the insipid little lab somewhere in Starfleet Headquarters where his 'abilities' were being 'tested'.

Despite the myriad insults he was currently subjected to, the ultimate indignity was that his ability to choose what to say upon activation had been taken away from him. For the first time in the ten years since Kes had convinced the Captain to allow an adjustment to his programming, he was once again reduced to parroting 'please state the nature' every time he was activated. Unexpectedly denied the freedom to say whatever he wished, he now regretted each and every occasion when he had lacked the imagination to say something different.

The EMH's internal chronometer informed him that he had been in this lab for almost two months, yet he had recorded less than a week's activation in that time. His memories of Captain Janeway's final words to him were still clear. In the midst of preparations for the trial of Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Torres, the captain had returned to Voyager to negotiate with Starfleet Medical over what was going to happen to him. Her face had been pale and drawn, and he had been convinced that she was drinking too much coffee and sleeping too little. But his protestations had met with deaf ears.

'Doctor, I will do my best to look after myself,' she said, lying through her teeth, he was sure, 'but not only do I have my mother looking after me, but Lieutenant McBride appears to have appointed herself as your medical understudy. Believe me, I am continually being told to cut down the coffee and increase my sleep. And I did not come here for a checkup.' The captain's hands were on her hips and she was speaking quickly - the EMH decided it was in his best interests to be quiet and listen. 'Starfleet Medical is demanding that the refit team deliver you and your mobile emitter to them this afternoon. A special team of both engineers and medical specialists has been assembled to examine you.'

The EMH's resolution to remain quiet and listen lasted exactly that long. 'Examine me? Captain, I'm a doctor, not a cadaver.'

The captain shook her head. 'I'm not sure they appreciate the difference, Doctor. I have been trying to convince the team head, Dr Tirens, of your established sentience, but the trial against B'Elanna and Chakotay -' he noted the hesitation before she spoke her first officer's name, '- has thrown doubt over all our logs, our records. Apparently the prosecution is going to allege that most of the records were faked.'

The EMH spluttered in indignation. 'How can they imagine that you would allow records to be tampered with?' Janeway fixed him with a glare, and his words faded away, his memory circuits functioning perfectly.

'But I did, didn't I?' she asked him.

'You thought you had a good reason,' he tried to assure her, but received another glare for his trouble.

'Don't try to defend me now, Doctor, you didn't at the time. In any case, your sentience is officially in doubt. Medical didn't even want to consider it a possibility. However, I've convinced them that an in-depth study of how your program adapted to an unexpected long-term mission might benefit them greatly. I think that will buy us some time.'

Drawing himself up, and feeling not a little heroic, he told the captain grandly, 'Concentrate on the trial, Captain. Don't concern yourself with me.'

'You're a part of my crew as much as the crew of the Liberty are. I'm not going to desert any of you,' she said firmly. 'Between B'Elanna and Harry and Seven and I, we've put together some encrypted protection algorithms. They should prevent the engineering team working with you from changing your program.' The captain moved to a console and began to input the new programming.

The EMH watched over her shoulder, noting some trademark Torres algorithms. 'Lieutenant Torres has been working on this from prison for me?' he asked in amazement.

'None of us want to lose you,' the captain replied. 'B'Elanna's worked hard over the years to keep you with us. She'd be devastated to lose you to Starfleet after she's saved you from so many other adventures.'

'How's the preparation for the trial?' he asked casually.

'It's heavy going. The Starfleet charges seem to change daily, and just when Lieutenant McBride thinks she's found a relevant precedent, she finds one that contradicts it. And trying to line up witnesses is proving difficult.'

'They aren't willing to testify? But Commander Chakotay was highly respected before his resignation.'

'It's not so much unwillingness as simply being able to find people. One of Chakotay's old CO's, Roger Hackney, won't return our comms, and Owen Paris' Pathfinder team has completely clammed up.'

'Even Reg Barclay?' asked the EMH, surprised.

'Mr Barclay was reassigned to a deep space vessel performing peacekeeping duties in the Gamma Quadrant. They're out of comm range.'

The EMH sighed heavily. 'I'd been hoping to see him again. He's such a pleasant fellow when you get to know him. I'd feel far more secure if he was part of the team working with me. Lieutenant Barclay was Dr Zimmerman's protege in many ways.'

Captain Janeway finished her programming and turned to the EMH, laying a comforting hand on his arm. 'I'm sorry Doctor. But we'll be doing our best.'

He repeated what he'd said before. 'Keep Chakotay and B'Elanna out of prison. Then you can worry about me if you need to.'

She smiled at him and patted his arm. 'Right now I need to go to another meeting with Starfleet Medical. Goodbye, Doctor. I'll see you soon, I'm sure.'

'Goodbye, Captain.' He watched as she walked towards the door. At the last moment, he called after her. 'Captain?'

She stopped, and he walked over to her. He hesitated, unsure of what to say, then simply bent down and hugged her. The captain was startled, but after a slight pause she hugged him back.

He stepped back from her, and simply said, 'Thank you.'

She smiled back at him, nodded, and walked through the door. He stood in the same place for many minutes, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed by his actions. Then he went back into his office and began transferring important files and his favourite photos to his most trusted friends.

He hadn't seen the captain again since that day. Kit McBride had visited him twice, bringing the best wishes of the whole crew, and one day a special message from Seven of Nine, which had brightened him considerably. But Kit's 'visits' were difficult to arrange. Both had been under the pretext of needing to confirm details of various medical records needed for evidence in the trial, but Kit had confided to him that the information was not likely to be used. The last time she had been, he thought, searching his memory banks, must have been two weeks ago, during the presentation of the defence case. By now the case might be over, and no one had thought to visit him to let him know the verdict. Before he could work himself into a state of absolute self-pity, the various technicians in the lab finished testing whatever it was they had been testing and deactivated him, without even asking him first.

* * *

'Please state the nature…' This time he didn't even bother to finish. His internal chronometer recalibrated itself, informing him that it had been less than a week since his last activation. In addition, the woman standing in front of him was not one of the regular lab technicians. Something was different.

The woman was dressed in a Starfleet admiral's uniform, and she walked around the EMH, studying him intently. However, she did not speak to him. She looked vaguely familiar, and the EMH attempted to link his system into Starfleet's computer banks to confirm an ID. Then he remembered that he couldn't do that anymore. He was convinced that the technicians had been altering his memory circuits - details like that were becoming more difficult to access.

The admiral stopped walking around him. 'You are the Voyager EMH?' she asked sharply.

'Yes, sir,' he replied.

'Do you know who I am?'

Finally his memory circuits kicked in. 'Admiral MacKenzie S Rabb, commanding officer of the Earth bureau of Starfleet's JAG corps, principally operating out of Falls Church, on the east coast of the North American continent. Previously a mentor to Lieutenant Caitlyn McBride.'

Admiral Rabb nodded, more to herself than to confirm his identification of her.

The EMH was delighted by her presence. 'You must know the status of the trial. Is it over yet? What was the result?'

The admiral ignored him. 'What have they been doing to you?' she asked. 'What sort of tests?'

'I'm usually not activated when the tests are occurring,' replied the EMH stiffly. 'And my ability to remain aware while deactivated has been curtailed – that much at least, I can tell you. I also suspect, however, that my memory circuits have been altered.'

'You aren't automatically self-aware while you are de-activated?'

'If I were it would defeat the purpose of an EMH - to provide a short-term, non-permanent supplement to the medical team. It would also be a waste of precious energy resources, especially in a situation like Voyager's.'

Admiral Rabb began to circle around the EMH. 'Kit and B'Elanna told me that the programming had adapted,' she said to herself. Then she faced the EMH again. 'It hasn't adapted to that extent?' she asked.

'While I am deactivated, I am usually in a "sleep" mode. The levels of awareness I am able to demonstrate are certainly analogous to human sleep - in other words, minimal,' he finished snappily.

At the display of temper, Admiral Rabb paused, then said softly, 'I'm a lawyer, not a programmer.' She walked over to two chairs by one wall of the lab. Reaching them, she turned. 'Are you able to come over here? Or have they limited your mobility?'

'My mobility has been severely limited,' he said. 'For one thing, I no longer have access to my mobile emitter. However,' he continued, moving towards the chair the admiral had indicated, 'this room is fully serviced with holoemitters, and unless my motion algorithms are specifically changed during the course of the lab technicians' "work", I am quite able to move about this room.'

The admiral sat down in one chair, and the EMH in the other. 'Well, Doctor, I think we need to have a chat.'

'I agree – could you please inform me as to the status of the charges against Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Torres? Has the trial concluded?'

'Yes,' said Admiral Rabb.

The EMH was growing impatient. 'Well, what was the result? Where are Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Torres?'

'Chakotay and B'Elanna were acquitted of all the charges against them - the treason charges were dropped at the last moment.'

'Dropped?'

'The prosecution withdrew the charges just before the case went to the jury.'

The EMH pondered the news for a moment, then returned to his questions. 'So where are they now?'

'B'Elanna and Tom are, I believe, on Risa, having a second honeymoon.'

'Well, their first one wasn't all that extensive,' said the Doctor, conversationally. 'And Chakotay?'

'I've been told he's in Australia.'

'Australia? Why?'

'That's what I want you to tell me.'

'I'm very sorry, Admiral, but I have no immediate explanation for Chakotay visiting the island continent.'

'I'm surprised by that,' mused the admiral. 'I was told that you were a prime repository of information regarding the crew.'

The EMH was unimpressed by Admiral Rabb's attempts to avoid his questions, and his voice grew snappish again. 'At the moment, Admiral, I have no access to the outside world. I believe you have far more information regarding my crewmates than is available to me.'

The Admiral looked at him steadily for a moment, and whether she decided that, as a hologram, he couldn't technically be subordinate, or that she would ignore any insubordination on the grounds of duress, he couldn't tell. But the expression on her face softened, and her next words gave him a great deal of hope. 'What would you like to know, Doctor?'

The EMH smiled, then took a deep breath. He asked the Admiral numerous questions about the trial, the Voyager crew, and the attitude of Starfleet to their return. He asked about Commander Barclay, only to have it confirmed that the one friend he had in the Alpha Quadrant, other than his own crewmates, was indeed on a deep space mission in the Gamma Quadrant, and still out of comm range. Although the admiral wasn't able to answer all his questions, there were only two topics he was wary of broaching; the current status of himself, and the current status of Seven of Nine. In the former case, he assumed Admiral Rabb would broach the subject himself. In the latter case, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened to Seven over the past month. His imagination, encouraged by Kes, Denara, and Kit, had grown in its abilities over the ten years of his existence, and it was now at a level of vividness that he would have preferred to do without. Unlike himself, she had been free during the trial, but he was concerned that since its conclusion, she might have been taken into some sort of custody by Starfleet. For himself, such custody was an annoyance, but he didn't want to contemplate the thought that Seven was in a similar situation. So in the end, he didn't ask about his friend, hoping that the admiral would mention her without his encouragement. Instead, he found that they had begun to discuss Kit McBride.

'She was one of your nursing assistants, wasn't she?' asked Admiral Rabb.

'She was actually on Voyager as a biomedical specialist,' he corrected her. 'But we lost our medical staff in the transition to the Delta Quadrant, so Kit and a few others assisted me when needed. After a few years, however, she rarely did a shift in sickbay, except in emergencies. She was more helpful to me as a research assistant.'

'Except in emergencies,' Rabb repeated. 'You had a fair few of those, I understand.'

'More than I believe your average Starship comes across,' he agreed, 'but comparable to the various Starships Enterprise.'

At the EMH's deadpan comment, the admiral grinned. 'Well, I'm sorry, but you're going to be losing your research assistant-come-emergency nurse. We need her in the JAG corps. She's going to be a fine lawyer. She's already one hell of a litigator.'

'I'm glad to hear it. She spent enough time in my sickbay trying out her debating techniques on me - she has a tendency to debate any ethical issue that crosses her path,' said the EMH.

'She's the one who asked me to come and see you, actually,' said the admiral, picking up a padd that had been lying beside her chair.

'She couldn't get here herself?' asked the EMH.

'I sent her back to see her family. She's done a good job on the trial, and she deserves a holiday. I told her I'd look into your situation.'

'Just what is my "situation"?'

'That's what I need you to tell me.'

'Well, I've been here for over two months now, but I'll assume you knew that. I am consistently treated as a piece of curious technology, rather than as a Voyager crewmember. As far as I can tell, the technicians have only been able to remove three major segments of my programming; my mobile emitter, my ability to activate and deactivate at will, and my alternate greeting subroutines. However, as I said before, I suspect that my memory circuits have been tampered with.'

'In what way?'

'I have been experiencing disturbing levels of disorientation, and it often takes many seconds after activation to remember where I am. Also, information which I should have at my fingertips, such as your identity, for example, is no longer readily accessible.'

'But you knew who I was when I asked you,' said Rabb.

'True, but I had been struggling to locate the correct memory circuits for some time before you asked the question. Admiral…you are involved in JAG. Does Starfleet have any right to hold me here? No one has ever declared me to be a prisoner.'

'From their point of view, Doctor, you are merely an object – a piece of Voyager that can be detached from the ship and subjected to maintenance just as with any other piece of a Starship. The question is whether you are legally an object.'

'Well, I don't feel like an object. I feel like,' he paused, 'like myself.'

'That's a good start,' said Admiral Rabb. 'Your case isn't without precedent in the Federation – there's Maddox v Data, among others. I know Kit is very interested in your case, and I'm sure she'll start working on it the minute her commission to JAG is confirmed.'

'That's good to know.

'I've got to go to Australia in the next few days,' said the admiral, 'but when I'm back, I'll have a look at some of those precedents, and I'll come back in to see you. I can't visit too often, you realise. I don't want Starfleet Medical to get suspicious and decide to refuse visitors.'

The EMH nodded in understanding.

'As for why I'm going to Australia…,' said Admiral Rabb, 'I don't think you knew that I'm an old friend of Commander Chakotay. I have a pretty good idea of where he goes when he wants to hide from the world, and I suspect that's what he's doing now.'

Not for the first time, the EMH was puzzled. 'Admiral, why are you telling me this?' he asked carefully.

Admiral Rabb smiled. 'Because, if I'm going to go and confront Chakotay, I need to know the details about his life for the last ten years.'

'Its not that I wouldn't have a great deal to tell,' replied the EMH, 'but I'm not sure that others – the Captain, for instance – wouldn't be able to tell you more. There was a major part of the Commander's life of which none of us had any idea until he…' the EMH hesitated one last time. During her last visit, Lieutenant McBride had hinted at the history of Admiral Rabb and the Commander, and he had picked up from the Admiral's conversation that despite the satisfactory conclusion of the trial, there were lingering problems in the relationship between the Captain and Commander Chakotay. 'Until he and the Captain chose to enlighten us,' he finished eventually.

'I'm well aware of that,' said Rabb, 'but I'm not willing to take the risk of asking Captain Janeway about her personal life. My next best source is you.'

This time, the EMH beamed at this acknowledgment. 'Then you've come to the right place, Admiral. Where would you like me to start?'

'I want all the details, Doctor. Starting with the legendary exchange of glances over the viewscreen…'

* * *

'Please state the nature of the medical emergency.' He paused for a moment, then spoke to the technician standing at a wall terminal. 'I assume you realise how futile that greeting is. You aren't activating me to treat medical emergencies. You are activating me to run tests. Why not just change the greeting to "Please do to me whatever you wish"? I'm sure that would make you far more comfortable.'

'Computer, mute EMH,' said the technician, without turning around.

This was one of the things he hated most. Captain Janeway had once muted him during a conference on the bridge, before he had gained his mobile emitter, even before he was routinely included in senior staff conferences. The difference in muting the EMH to muting audio on any other viewscreen conversation was that muting disconnected the EMH's vocal circuits, which meant he could not talk at all. This time, as on that other occasion, the EMH kept mouthing the words he'd been saying, just in case the muting had been a mistake. It wasn't, so he stopped trying to talk. He was tempted to wander around the lab, as he was tired of simply standing in one place. Then he saw the chairs on the side of the lab, where he'd sat with Mac. There were three other stools sitting in front of the stations, and he'd never seen more than three technicians in the lab while they were testing him in activation mode. So, with the single technician absorbed in his work at the wall terminal, the EMH wandered over to the side of the room and sat down in the chair. Until the technicians decided to deactivate him again, he would work his way through an opera file to which he still had access. He sat back to enjoy himself, his head nodding gently in time to the overture to Puccini's "Tosca", which he could 'hear' in his head.

He had almost reached Cavaradossi's first main aria – the part he was studying for himself – when a second technician came into the lab.

'What are you up to, Keyne?' the newcomer asked the technician at the wall console.

'Running that next lot of diagnostics, Lieutenant. Tirens told me to get going on a review of the adaptive programming. He's going to pass that on to one of the medics to make the decisions for the new version.'

'So, nothing urgent?'

'Not really. The subject's not going anywhere.'

The second technician sat down at a workstation. 'That's true,' he said. 'Tirens keeps a close eye on that mobile emitter. It's sitting in a little glass case behind his desk – no-one's getting anywhere near that thing.'

At this, the EMH decided that he should listen to what was being said. It might be helpful some time. So he stopped mentally studying Cavaradossi's phrasing, and began listening to the conversation.

The Lieutenant (whose name, the EMH eventually recalled, was Lleytte) worked for a couple of moments, then turned back to Keyne. 'Has Linda Merran be around here in the last few days?'

'Merran? No. Isn't she with JAG?'

Lleytte nodded. 'She worked on the Voyager case.'

'Why would she be coming here?' asked Keyne.

Lleytte shook his head. 'I don't know – but I've seen her around. She isn't dating anyone at Medical, is she?'

'Linda Merran? No way – she's involved with someone at JAG. Wouldn't be surprised if it were her boss,' said Keyne, with a smirk.

'Tom Singh?' asked Lleytte. 'No – I know him. He wouldn't be involved in anything underhanded.'

'I never said underhanded,' retorted Keyne, 'Just that getting involved with the boss isn't that uncommon. What about the captain of Voyager?'

The EMH tensed. It was fine for members of the crew to gossip, kindly, behind the backs of Commander Chakotay and Captain Janeway. But for outsiders to do it? That was insupportable.

He didn't have to worry, however. Keyne and Lleytte didn't follow the topic up. Apparently, Lleytte thought Keyne's question answered itself. Instead, the two technicians went back to the topic of Merran's supposedly frequent visits to the Medical buildings.

'I suspect,' said Lleytte, 'that she's been bringing instructions to Tirens from higher up.'

'Orders for the project?' asked Keyne. 'Orders would be transmitted, not brought by hand.'

'Not if you wanted to avoid those orders being intercepted,' said Lleytte.

'Do you think there's something fishy in the project?' asked Keyne, who by now had turned away from his work entirely.

Lleytte shook his head. 'I'm not entirely sure. But you hear things…I was bringing a report to Doc Tirens the other day, and Merran was in there with him. He was agreeing that he would finish something by a certain date - what it was, I didn't hear. But Linda Merran doesn't have the clout to give orders to Tirens.'

'So she must be the messenger,' finished Keyne, nodding. 'Makes sense. The next question is, who's sending the messages?'

'Does it really matter?' asked Lleytte.

Keyne didn't answer for a moment. 'There's two problems here,' he said, finally. 'Together, the two problems create a major difficulty for me. If either of them didn't exist, I wouldn't worry. But they're both here, so they combine to create…something.'

'Keep going,' said Lleytte, beginning to look seriously concerned. The EMH watched with great interest.

'Well - the first problem is orders coming from somewhere else. Sensitive orders, by the look of things. Orders that mean this project isn't independent, and that it isn't under the auspices of Medical.'

'And the second problem?' asked Lleytte.

'The project itself. Are you entirely comfortable with what we're doing? Exactly what they've got us testing and exploring?'

The EMH was beginning to grow distinctly uncomfortable. Now they were talking about him. Why couldn't they just tell him what they were doing?

Lleytte considered. 'You're right. On its own, I'm not so worried about where the project is going. For a Medical research project, it's totally legitimate. But combined with orders coming from who knows where…you're right. It's fishy.'

'Do you have any idea where the orders are coming from?'

'I have my suspicions. I heard Doc Tirens holding forth about being at the beck and call of two admirals and a commodore. Maybe he was talking about the people Merran's working for.'

Two admirals and a commodore…the EMH began to think through all the Starfleet hierarchy he knew, but couldn't come up with any possible suspects. This was something he'd have to discuss with someone more knowledgeable. Someone who'd actually had a chance to walk around headquarters…any member of the crew, in fact. All of them had been given the chance to see Earth, to walk about freely, and yet here he was, still stuck between these four walls.

The EMH was about to sink back into morose contemplation, when the two technicians noticed him. 'Did you disengage its hearing?' Lleytte asked Keyne.

'I tried,' replied Keyne, 'but I came up again that strange encryption routine again. 'I managed to mute it, though.'

'Do you have to have it running while you do this diagnostic?'

Keyne shook his head.

'Fine then. Computer, deactivate EMH.' Lleytte turned back to Keyne. The last words the EMH heard as he dematerialised were, 'I wonder if it understood any of that?'

* * *

'Please state the nature…Lieutenant McBride!' exclaimed the EMH. Standing before him, in an updated Starfleet uniform, was his former research assistant. He looked again at her collar, and hastened to correct his mistake. 'I apologise – Commander McBride. Congratulations, Commander.'

Despite his genial mood, Kit wasn't smiling. 'Thank you, Doctor.'

'So, what's it like working for JAG?'

Kit's face fell even further – if such a thing were possible. 'I wasn't assigned to JAG, Doctor. I'm working for Starfleet Medical instead.'

'What! Why?' asked the EMH, stunned.

'I don't know,' replied Kit, a little listlessly. 'I passed my final bar exams, but then I was told that there was no room for me in JAG. I got assigned here as a research assistant.'

'That's ridiculous,' said the EMH. 'If you are going to continue in the biomedical field, you ought to be a full researcher, not a mere assistant. What did Admiral Rabb say?'

'I haven't seen her since before my bar exam,' replied Kit. 'I'm not really sure I want to see her…she practically promised me an assignment to Falls Church.'

The EMH thought back to those confusing comments he'd heard a week earlier.

'It's not Admiral Rabb's fault, Commander,' he said, more to placate Kit than because he was convinced of the statement's truth.

'Oh, I know that,' said Kit. 'I know Mac too well – she wouldn't tell me I was going to be assigned to JAG if she didn't believe that herself. But someone doesn't want me in JAG. I just don't know who.'

'Isn't it a little early to be jumping to conspiracy theories, Kit?' he asked, leading Kit to the chairs at the side of the room.

'Maybe,' she replied, 'but there are just so many things that don't make sense. My assignment is just one of them. Then there's the trial itself, and the withdrawal of the treason charges at the last minute. Doctor – those were the charges we didn't have a good case on. Tom Singh and Linda Merran could have made their case. Why were their only good charges withdrawn?'

'Is that all that seems out of the ordinary?'

'Not by a long shot. B'Elanna and Tom were supposed to be assigned together – her assignment to Deep Space Nine has only just come through, and Tom has to stay on Earth. I heard that Starfleet was even considering revoking his parole – from ten years ago!'

'Can they do that?'

'Legally, I guess they can. At the beginning of the mission, Kathryn only said she would help him at his next review board. But it's been ten years…Tuvok is being shifted from pillar to post. He's had two or three different assignments so far.'

'What about Seven, and Harry? And what about the captain?' asked the EMH.

'Oh, Harry's fine,' said Kit. The EMH grew even more curious. Kit's voice had a false happiness to it that he hadn't heard from her very often. Kit continued, 'He's taken an assignment on the Enterprise – Will Riker asked him personally, at the victory party after the trial.'

'When did he leave?' asked the EMH carefully. It didn't take much intuition to realise that all was not well between Kit and Harry, especially when the EMH knew Kit as well as he did.

'He shipped out almost straight after the Galaxy Ball.'

'The Galaxy Ball?' asked the EMH.

'Oh, I'm sorry, Doc – I forgot you wouldn't know. The Galaxy Ball was what we called the official reception they gave Voyager – the Federation Council, the President, and Starfleet. It was an incredible occasion. Dinner and dancing, speeches, too, unfortunately, but I ignored most of them.' Kit grinned at the EMH, her tone almost back to normal.

'So, there was an official reception for the crew, and I wasn't invited,' said the EMH, huffily.

Kit sighed. 'Doc, we would have loved to have you there, but it just wasn't possible. Mac told me that we needed to keep a low profile where you are concerned. I'm not sure what she's worried about, but I think that she, Tuvok, and Kathryn are all thinking along the same lines – but they won't tell me.'

'They probably just want to give you a rest after all your hard work on the trial, Kit. They don't want to worry you further.'

'I know, and I appreciate that. But I'm still annoyed by it.'

After a moment's silence, the EMH spoke. 'You were going to tell me about the captain, and about Seven.'

'That's right, I was. Well, Kathryn hasn't been given an assignment yet. She's an Admiral now you know, but no-one wants to risk giving her a desk assignment. So, instead, they haven't given her anything. She's consulting on Project Voyager, over at Headquarters. That's where Tuvok and Chakotay are working, as well. The project is only really just starting – I think they tried to begin the log analysis during the trial, but found that they needed the input of those of us who were actually there. So all the work up until now has been administrative.'

'So Commander Chakotay is staying in Starfleet?'

'For now, Commodore Chakotay is staying,' said Kit, emphasising the former first officer's new rank. 'He'd prefer to be doing something other than data analysis, though. I think he told Admiral Kelson that the Project Voyager work is a stopgap measure at most.'

'That sounds like him,' agreed the EMH. 'And Seven?'

'She's just come back here from Sverige – she's been staying with her family.'

'Her family?'

'Yes – Neelix managed to find Seven's grandmother and her uncle, aunt and cousin. The cousin is an adorable little girl called Annika, after Seven. Annie and Naomi are fast friends, and she adores her new cousin. Annie even followed Seven back to San Francisco.'

The EMH smiled. 'I'm glad Seven found her family.'

'Her grandmother, Dagmar, absolutely dotes on her. Only ever calls her Annika, though – Seven is trying to get used to that. The uncle and aunt aren't quite so sure about the whole situation. They still see Seven as a Borg. If it weren't for Dagmar's insistence, I think Annie would be forbidden from seeing her cousin, or any of the Voyager crew.' Kit smiled sadly at the thought. 'Thank goodness for Dagmar,' she finished.

'Indeed,' said the EMH. 'So, Kit – you work at Starfleet Medical, now.'

'That's right.'

'Then, could you please tell me where I am and what's being done to me?' He managed to make his voice just a little plaintive.

Kit grinned at the question. 'Of course I can, Doc – and I can see why you'd be anxious to know. You're on the fifth floor of the McCoy Building, which is the secondary Starfleet Medical building. It's the building which houses all the current experimental work, and most of the research staff, as distinct from the administrative and teaching staff, who are in the other building.'

'Then you would be in this building, too.'

'One floor up,' said Kit, nodding. 'As for what the research team is doing, I'm not entirely certain. Most of the details are being kept firmly under wraps. I do know that the team is finding B'Elanna and Seven's encryptions very hard to break. Mac is working through my friend Clem Tran to file a petition in the civilian courts, because each time she's tried talking to the hierarchy here at Medical, she gets stymied by something she just isn't expecting.'

'Can anything be done through the civilian courts?' asked the EMH, doubtfully.

'We should be able to have sentience declared there. The only reason Commodore Data's claim went to JAG back in '65 was that the Enterprise was on a Starbase, rather than a station with civilians, and JAG was the only option open to him. Once we've had you declared sentient, the only problem will be to convince Starfleet that habeus corpus applies equally to them as to the rest of the Federation. They seem to have trouble with the concept of equality before the law,' Kit finished.

'Military privilege in times of crisis is not unknown,' said the EMH.

'I know – but their "time of crisis" was years ago. The arrival of one lone Starship that's been out of contact with the Federation for ten years can't possibly threaten anything,' said Kit.

'It's surprising what people will see as a threat,' replied the EMH.

Kit shook her head. 'There's a purpose somewhere in all this – a motive of sorts. I just don't know what it is.'

'I'm sure we'll find out over time,' said the EMH to Kit. But to himself, with the recollection of Mac's brief comments, and what he'd overheard the week before, he thought, 'The question is, whether we'll find out soon enough.'

* * *

He would never know how Kit managed it – he assumed she had some help from B'Elanna or Seven, and their proven programming abilities – but for just a moment, despite being deactivated, he 'woke up'. He had not taken on any holographic form, rather, his awareness was just that – awareness, and nothing else. But during that brief time, he received a message. He suddenly knew that his self-activation had been restored, and that his program had been linked to the lab systems, so that he could tell who was there before he physically activated himself within a room. With that knowledge, he 'breathed easier', so to speak. He didn't breathe, of course, and neither did he have physical shoulders from which to feel that a burden had been lifted. But sometimes, human-centred metaphors simply had to be employed to get the meaning across.

It was only a few days later when the EMH had an opportunity to test Kit, B'Elanna and Seven's accomplishment. In the manner of a human opening one eye to see if anyone could see that they were awake, the EMH tentatively tested the connection to the lab sensors. He eased himself into the system, and nosed around carefully, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence. Once he had gained access to the sensors, he could 'see' that there was no-one around in the lab to witness his activities. Then he checked the sensor readings for the surrounding labs, knowing that some of the work done on him was done from these outside positions. There was no-one there, either. The coast, as he was sure Tom Paris would say if given the chance, was clear.

Gleefully he activated himself. To his disappointment, he was still forced to greet the empty lab with the words, 'Please state the nature of the medical emergency,' but he mumbled the words as much as possible, gaining satisfaction from that small level of rebellion.

Knowing that he wasn't observed gave the EMH an immense impression of freedom. He wandered around the lab, activating stations and going through the data files. He could have done all this while he was deactivated, now that he had a connection into the system, but simply being able to move freely, at least within these walls, was enough of a pleasure to him. He sat down at one of the stations and began to scroll through the data – data collected on him. As he read, he began to get a vague picture of what these tests were designed to do…and what he saw worried him.

However, it also explained why Starfleet Medical was unwilling to openly admit his sentience, in a court of law or anywhere else. It also told him where he was going to go the next time he had a chance to go exploring.

* * *

When the EMH 'woke' himself up, slipped himself into the sensor system and took a look at the readings, it wasn't to check whether there was anyone in 'his' lab. Instead, he made sure that a set of rooms at the other end of the hall was empty. Then he made sure that the same set of rooms was fully fitted with holographic projectors. It was, and with just a little more cautious checking of sensors, he took the brave step of activating himself in this new environment.

'Please-state-the-nature-of-the-medical-emergency,' he gabbled quickly, getting it over with. That done, he moved directly to a wall panel and began bringing up files. Within a few minutes, he had located all the files he felt he needed - then he gave an order to the computer, hoping that it would be executed. 'Computer, compile the files currently copied to the display directory, and execute program EMH4exp.'

He expected the pause from the computer. He expected the quiet blips as it ran the compilation protocol. What he didn't expect was the form that EMH4exp took.

'Haley!'

'Please state the nature of the medical emergency.'

'They've still got you saying that?' exclaimed the Voyager EMH. He shook his head. 'Whatever happened to innovation?'

'Please repeat the nature of the medical emergency.'

The EMH's headshaking continued. 'I'm not a patient, Haley. I'm another EMH. The original, in fact.'

'Why are you addressing this program as Haley?' asked the EMH4exp.

'You look like Haley - another hologram I knew once. Do you mind if I call you Haley?'

'Are you injured?'

'I told you, Haley, I'm not a patient. I'm a doctor, like you are.' The EMH turned around to examine the list of files that formed Haley's program, and noticed that the personality files were much smaller than his own. Specifically, she didn't have the files from his program that allowed expansion and adaptation in response to circumstances. He turned back to Haley.

'How old are you?' he asked, curiously.

'Please restate the question.'

'On what date were you first activated?'

Haley rattled off a stardate less than three weeks ago.

'What is the composition of your programming?'

'This program is modelled on the work of Dr Lewis Zimmerman, although its creators have improved vastly on Dr Zimmerman's rather limited achievements. The chief creator is Mako Tirens, MD, Starfleet Medical. His published papers include…'

'I want to know about you, Haley. Not about Dr Tirens. What are your performance parameters?'

'This program is equipped to act as a medium to long-term replacement of medical staff. It can also function as the sole medical database on board a deep-space vessel.'

The EMH sighed at the continuing use of impersonal pronouns. His suspicions appeared to be accurate, but there was still a glimmer of hope…

'Haley, do you know when you are due to be posted to a Starfleet vessel?' he asked, careful to refer to her as a person.

'Initial testing of the EMH4exp is scheduled to commence…' The stardate she stated was two days away.

'Are major adjustments scheduled to your programming between now and then?'

'Negative.'

The EMH's shoulders slumped for a moment before his face took on an extremely determined expression. 'I won't let them do this to you, Haley. You have every right…you have the same rights as I do to live "footloose and fancy free."' Looking around him, his shoulders slumped again. 'Then again, look where that's got me.'

'Please state the nature of the medical emergency,' asked Haley.

'Exactly,' mumbled the EMH.

Listlessly, he said goodbye to Haley, deactivated her, wiped his activity from the lab's logs, and deactivated himself.

* * *

The EMH's next expedition was to discover the location of Commander McBride's workstation on the floor above, and to leave a carefully worded message in her files. The night after he did so, he was activated to find Kit standing in his lab, concern evident in her face. Before his enforced greeting had finished, she was speaking.

'What is it?'

'I know why I'm being kept here. I'm being used as a model on which to base the newest EMH program.'

Kit looked back at him, clearly puzzled.

'They're using me as a model of how not to program an EMH,' he clarified. 'The EMH-4 has no more personality than Voyager's computer. And she has no adaptation files, and no concept of herself as an individual. She refers to herself as "it",' he finished, his distress evident in his voice.

Kit didn't speak for a moment. Then she asked, 'Has the team also been looking at the files B'Elanna added to extend your longevity?'

'As far as I can tell, yes.'

'Androids. Holographic androids,' said Kit.

'Exactly, Commander,' the EMH sputtered. 'It simply isn't right! What can you do?'

'Me? I'm a lowly research assistant. There's nothing I can do, Doctor.'

'There must be something!' The EMH refused to consider defeat. 'You are a former Voyager crewmember, Commander. We've faced everything, and won. You can do so again.'

'You can't fight Starfleet,' replied Kit, her voice betraying her resignation.

'Nonsense! You and the Admiral did, and you won.'

'You don't win against Starfleet, Doctor, you just think you've won.'

The EMH stared at Kit, frustration and amazement battling each other in his mind. He'd never seen her so defeated – it was entirely out of character. Granted, Admiral Janeway had also appeared defeated, listless and lethargic once or twice in their time in the Delta Quadrant, but she'd never totally given up. The EMH reconsidered that statement…if the Admiral had given up, she'd had someone there to get her back on track.

The EMH suspected that even if Harry – the counterpart in this situation to the person who'd kept the Admiral from total despair – had been available to fulfil his role, he was actually one of the problems. So, in the absence of anyone more suited, the EMH was going to have to take on the task himself.

Kit had slumped down in a chair. Now the EMH moved over to her, but didn't sit down. He wanted to keep a major advantage in height by remaining standing.

'Listen to me, Commander,' he said, in the confident tone that had proven so successful in his dealings with many crew members, 'I need your help. I need you to get in contact with Commander Torres and get some information for me. You are the only person who I know can help me.'

Kit looked up at him. 'Don't treat me like Naomi Wildman, Doctor.'

'I have no intention of doing so. I need your help, Commander.'

'What do you want me to ask B'Elanna?'

'I need to know how to add personality subroutines, adaptation protocols and identity algorithms to Haley's programming.'

'Haley? You mean the EMH-4?'

The EMH nodded. 'They've used one of Dr Zimmerman's holograms as a model. Haley. I met the original four years ago.'

Kit nodded. 'Are you sure you want to do this, Doctor?'

'Yes.' It was true. He wanted to subvert the programming Tirens' team was giving to Haley. At the same time, it gave him the chance to help Kit out of this current malaise. This dejected woman was not the vibrant young officer he was used to, and he intended to help her back to her old self.

Kit was nodding slowly. 'I'll get in contact with B'Elanna tonight,' she said. 'I know Tom is expected for a visit soon – I don't want her to be spending her time writing programs when he's there.'

'Is Lieutenant Paris still awaiting assignment?'

'No – he's been assigned to a new Starfleet base on Bajor. He and 'Lana aren't as close as they'd like to be, but it's an improvement on commuting from Earth. I'll talk to Seven as well,' said Kit, switching topics suddenly. 'She should be able to help.'

'Do whatever you can,' said the EMH, 'I'm sure Seven will be willing to assist you,' he finished, with a kind thought for his friend.

'I will,' said Kit. As she walked towards the door, the EMH detected some energy in her steps that hadn't been in her movements before. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

'Goodnight, Doctor,' she said. 'I'll leave you to turn out the lights.' Her smile was tight and a little forced as she left.

It was only then that the EMH remembered the second request he had intended to make. Sadly, it would have to wait.

* * *

For a week, the EMH waited. He waited to hear from Kit, or from Captain Janeway. He would have appreciated a visit from Admiral Rabb. For a week, the only people he saw were the members of the research team, and Haley.

His visits to Haley were disheartening. A copy of the program had been installed on a transport ship, the Marajone, for testing on that ship's first mission; supplying a Federation colony with personnel and materials. The test was a long-term one; the Marajone wasn't scheduled to return to Earth for six months. When the EMH asked Haley for details of the mission, she could quote them word-perfect from the Starfleet database, including the name of the mission's commander, Commodore Chakotay. But she was unable to see the copy that remained in San Fransisco as a separate entity from the copy now heading for the former Cardassian colony. In fact, she saw neither copy as an entity. Each was simply 'it' – the program.

The EMH also noticed that he was being activated more frequently. And when he ran self-diagnostics, it appeared that the team was coming close to cracking B'Elanna and Seven's original encryption codes. He sent messages to this effect to Kit's workstation, and from there to Admiral Janeway. He waited for a response, but for a week, nothing came. During this week, he examined many of the project's files, copying much of them into his own programming, trying to hide them from the technicians as best he could without the assistance of B'Elanna Torres or Seven of Nine.

Finally, just as, more than a month before, a thought had simply imposed itself on his mind, another one emerged. This 'thought' was worded just as carefully as the EMH's own messages to Kit had been, only this time, it was obvious that the message came from Seven.

They were coming tonight. He was to be prepared.

He savoured the message – the first he'd had directly from Seven since he'd been taken from Voyager. But he wished there was more content to the message. Efficiency was all very well, but sometimes clarity required more words rather than less. Nevertheless, he would be prepared that night for whatever was going to happen.

* * *

Part of being prepared was staying 'awake.' The EMH's consciousness fussed around inside the computer for hours, noting each technician who left the lab, and counting each second as it passed. He had reached an astronomical number when he registered that the turbolift had deposited two people on his floor of the building. Neither were wearing comm badges, but the sensor system detected the presence of Borg nanoprobes in the bloodstream of one of them. It was almost certainly Seven of Nine, meaning that the other would be Commander McBride. It was tempting to activate himself and be waiting for them when they reached his lab, but he contained himself. All they had told him to do was be prepared – not to be activated.

Seven entered his lab alone, and immediately activated his program. 'Doctor. Are you ready?' she asked, as he muttered his way through the standard greeting.

In the face of her brusque greeting, the EMH bit back the effusive reception he had been ready to give her. Instead, he replied calmly, 'I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to be prepared for, but yes, I am prepared.'

'Lieutenant McBride is retrieving your mobile emitter. We will then go to the EMH-4's labs, where you and I will complete the alterations to her programming. Then, we leave.'

They were going to leave him here. The EMH sighed – he wanted to get out, as soon as holographically possible. But he hadn't managed to tell Kit of his wishes. So now, even though one wish – for Haley to be self-aware, despite the best efforts of Starfleet Medical – was going to come true, the other wouldn't, and he would remain cooped up here, and most likely bear the brunt of the punishment once Haley's reprogramming was discovered.

The EMH sighed again. Seven looked at him with curiousity. 'It is unpleasant, is it not, to be confined in such a manner,' she said sagely.

'These past few months have not been the most pleasant of my existence,' the EMH acknowledged. 'I have not appreciated the way I've been treated.'

'Understandable,' replied Seven.

'I was pleased,' said the EMH slowly, 'that you were not subjected to similar treatment. I was concerned for you,' he admitted. He was slightly shocked to see a sympathetic smile on Seven's face. While sympathy was a fairly minor emotion in the scheme of things, to see it expressed so clearly on the face of the woman he had thought for many years was incapable of such expression was a shock to the EMH.

'Thank you, Doctor,' said Seven gently, as though she were oblivious to his surprise. He suspected, however, that she could tell exactly how taken about he was. 'I had a great deal of help from the Captain in that matter. And I also have you to thank,' she added.

'Me?' stammered the EMH.

'You convinced me to undergo the final surgery to remove the implants upon our arrival at Kedar. I suspect that the fact that I looked fully human helped to divert Starfleet's attention.'

'I suspect it did,' said Kit from the doorway, 'though it really irks me that appearances matter so much. This is the 24th century after all.'

'It is an annoying aspect of human culture,' agreed Seven, 'but perhaps it cannot be helped.'

'It should be,' said Kit, grimly. She held up the mobile emitter. 'Here, Doc…pop this on your sleeve. Seven?'

Seven turned to a nearby console and input a written command to transfer the EMH program to the emitter. 'An oral command would be logged and the voiceprint identified,' said Seven.

'If we could even be recognised in the first place,' said Kit. 'I would have put voiceprint authorisations on the lab if this were my show.'

'If that were the case,' said the EMH, after he carefully checked the stability of his newly transferred program, 'I would not have been able to use the voice commands I have been using in the past months.'

'True,' said Kit. 'And for someone who was being so precious about the emitter, Doc Tirens hadn't made much effort to keep it safe. I just walked in and picked it up.'

'Surely it wasn't quite that easy,' said the EMH.

'Not much more difficult,' she replied. 'Let's get going. We've got a lot to do tonight.'

The EMH knew the Lab computer systems backwards. Negotiating the corridors, however, he had to leave to Seven and Kit, who had studied the schematics. He followed them down the corridors to Haley's lab. At the door, the security problems they'd been expecting finally emerged – it took Seven a minute or two to manipulate the circuitry to give them access.

'You still have the knack,' said the EMH, clasping Seven's shoulder as she got to her feet again.

'You expected me to lose it in three months?' she asked, a definite twinkle of humour in her eye.

'It seemed much longer to me,' he replied.

Seven avoided his searching eyes.

'Get a move on, folks' said Kit from inside the lab. 'I need your help.'

The EMH looked back at Seven. 'Has Commander McBride become less formal in her language since I was removed from Voyager?' he asked

'Affirmative,' replied Seven as she and the EMH followed Kit into the lab. 'I believe it to be the influence of her young nephew.' Seven moved immediately to a console. 'Doctor, we need you to get into the system and compile Haley's program,' she reported after a few moments. 'They've fragmented her program.'

'Maybe they do realise someone might try something like this,' commented Kit.

'I suspect not,' replied Seven. Her fingers flew across the console. 'The fragmentation appears to be a product of the anti-sentience programming. Doc?'

'Alright, Seven,' he answered. 'Commander – take care of my emitter while I'm gone.'

Kit just grinned back at him and keyed in the deactivation sequence.

The EMH found himself within Haley's lab system. The last time he'd compiled her program, he'd used the voice activation sequence from the lab. This time it was safer to perform the search from inside the computer. In the back of his mind was the fact that he would be staying here, and he didn't want a trail leading back to him any more than he wanted Kit and Seven to be implicated in Haley's reprogramming.

He finished the searching, activated the compilation command, and then reactivated himself in the lab.

'Please state the nature of the medical emergency - when oh when can I stop saying that?' he finished with a frustrated yell. Kit and Seven stared at him, eyebrows raised.

'Doc?' asked Kit.

'Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Perfectly fine,' he tried to assure them. They didn't appear to be convinced.

An odd look passed between Kit and Seven, but they each bent over their consoles and returned to work. Kit followed a padd that she propped up in front of her, while Seven needed no notes or reminders. The EMH watched over Kit's shoulder.

'B'Elanna sent the programming from DS9,' Kit explained, without looking away from the screen, 'along with detailed instructions on how to properly integrate it. Holographic programming for dummies,' she added over her shoulder. She input a few more commands, then turned around. 'All right, Seven – I'm all done.'

'I have finished also. It will take a few moments for the system to update. In the meantime…' Seven turned to the EMH. 'I believe I can be of some assistance to you.' Before the EMH could ask what she meant, she had keyed in a command and he dematerialised.

* * *

He rematerialised in Haley's lab and opened his mouth to utter the annoying phrase that had been plaguing him for months. No words came. No sound at all issued from his mouth. Gingerly, he tested his voice to see if, indeed, he still had one. 'Testing…' His tentativeness made his voice croak. He tried again. 'Is this really happening?' he asked, more confidently.

Kit and Seven were watching him closely. Neither spoke, but Kit nodded slowly.

He tried singing some scales, and when he found he could sing the notes as clearly as ever, he was elated. 'Thank you, Seven!' he exclaimed. 'I am so grateful…' He paused, then swept the startled ex-Borg into a hug. Kit stood by, grinning. Suddenly, the EMH remembered himself, and let Seven go. She looked more than a little discomfited, and her usually neat hair was more than a little mussed. However, she gathered her composure, and said quietly, 'You're welcome, Doctor.'

Kit looked at the two of them pointedly, but with a glint of merriment in her eye. 'Are you two determined to waste time? We need to finish and get out of here.'

'Sorry, Commander,' said the EMH.

They finished their work quickly. Seven activated Haley and ran some tests on her configuration. After a few slight tweaks of the programming, the EMH had the pleasure of seeing Haley turn to him in recognition. 'I remember you,' she said to him.

When the EMH had realised that he no longer had to parrot the pre-programmed greeting, he had thought he couldn't possibly be happier that day. But the shy smile on Haley's face as she greeted him made him even more joyful. For a moment he decided that he wouldn't mind staying here for a while longer.

'Have you protected the new programming?' the EMH asked Seven.

'Naturally,' replied Seven. 'I have also made the programming latent, so that it will not assert itself while Haley is still within the bounds of Starfleet Medical. Each new EMH-4, once integrated into a starship's circuitry, will then be able to adapt and learn just as I'm told you did, Doctor.'

The EMH grinned in his glee. 'Thank you, Seven. Thank you, Kit…you've made all these days cooped up in here almost worth it.'

'Well, we're done now,' said Kit, with a relieved smile. 'Let's get moving. Doc, you've got to say goodbye to Haley.'

All the EMH's joy evaporated. 'No,' he said slowly, sitting down on a chair next to the EMH-4 'I'd rather stay here with Haley for a while longer. You can put my emitter back in Tirens' office on your way past.'

'Doctor?'

'Naturally there are holographic imagers in this room. The system can easily support both of us running at once.'

'I thought you wanted to leave,' said Kit, puzzled.

'What…deactivate myself and go back to that non-existence in the circuitry until the next time young Lleytte wants to fiddle around with my program? I'd rather stay out here for as long as I can.'

'Doctor,' said Seven, 'I believe Commander McBride assumed that you would be leaving Starfleet Medical with us.'

'You do want to bust out of this place, don't you?' added Kit.

'Of course I do!' exclaimed the EMH, springing up from his chair. 'I didn't think you realised…that is, I never actually asked you…'

'Give us some credit, Doc,' said Kit. 'We're here to get you out. Why do you think I got your mobile emitter, first off? It's not as though you need it while you're still within the labs.'

'True.' The EMH turned to Haley. 'I have to go, my dear,' he said. 'I hope, though, I will see an EMH-4 like you on a Starfleet vessel one day.'

'Goodbye, Doctor,' replied Haley. 'And thank you.' She smiled at Kit and Seven as well.

'Goodbye, Haley,' said Seven.

'I'm glad I had the chance to meet you,' added Kit. Then she stretched her hand to the console and deactivated the newly sentience-enabled hologram.

The Voyager trio left the lab. 'So, what's the plan for getting out of here?' asked the EMH.

'Surprisingly simple,' said Kit. 'We told you security was lax around here, and I've got clearance for every floor in the building except this one. We only need to go up one floor though a maintenance space, and then we're out of here, easily. The Admiral is waiting for us at her apartment.'

'What Caitlyn has neglected to mention,' said Seven, with just a touch of her old patronising tone, 'Is that you, of course, will need to be deactivated. We'll carry you out. There are the customary security guards on the door, but they will not search someone who works here.'

'Not even this late at night,' added Kit.

'Well, I'm all set to go,' said the EMH.

Seven reached out ready to catch the emitter. 'Computer, deactivate EMH-1 and store in the mobile emitter.'

The EMH's world shrank into nothingness.

* * *

The EMH rematerialised to the sound of applause. Looking around the room he saw many members of the Voyager crew, as well as a number of people he didn't recognise at all. Standing with Kit and Seven was the captain, a broad smile on her face. Next to her was Admiral Rabb, also looking quite pleased. Nearby Tuvok and Neelix stood together – Tuvok, naturally, was not applauding, but looked, in his typically expressionless, Vulcan way, not displeased.

The EMH's survey of the room ended suddenly as Admiral Janeway approached him.

'Doctor,' she said, 'We're all so very glad to see you again.' The applause resumed, and he felt almost embarrassed by the adulation. 'Commander McBride has told me some of what you discovered while you were held in the labs. I'm interested to know if you have any more information.' Janeway was speaking softly, and the EMH answered in kind.

'I do have some more information. I must say, Admiral, I'm quite puzzled as to what is going on.'

'You aren't the only one,' Janeway replied, laying a hand on his arm. 'Everyone here wants to talk to you – but remain behind, and we'll talk then.'

The EMH nodded, then let himself be led away by Kit to speak to Harry Kim's parents, two of the people the EMH hadn't recognised when he rematerialised. As Kit was introducing them, the EMH quietly interrupted her. 'I'm sorry, Kit – Jon, Masako. But there was something I wanted to mention to everyone.'

'Go ahead,' said Kit. Jon and Masako Kim nodded their agreement.

The EMH turned to the rest of the room. 'Excuse me,' he said, raising his voice significantly, 'I have an announcement of sorts to make.' The room sank into silence, and he continued. 'There's a question that has vexed me for the past ten years, since shortly after I was activated aboard Voyager. It is the question of a name for myself. Over these ten years, I have come to regret the fact that no-one simply gave me a name, as it is very difficult to decide on a name oneself. But in the past six weeks, I have had much time to consider the question. So, from now on – and I will make this official as soon as I can – I will be known as Doctor Kenneth Lewis.' The EMH stopped, not sure how to continue.

Admiral Janeway stepped forward. 'Is there a reason for the name?' she asked.

'There is. I have chosen the name Lewis to remember my creator, Dr Lewis Zimmerman, and the name Kenneth,' he paused, then resumed. 'The name Kenneth I chose many years ago. I simply have not felt the need to use it publicly until now.' He was content with giving that general explanation. His closest friends, if their memory was sufficient, would remember his holographic family. While he had abandoned the name Schmullus after Freya's death, Tom Paris's insistence that you couldn't stop having a family had led him to think of himself by the name of Kenneth ever since.

'In that case, Dr Lewis,' said Janeway, 'I assure you on behalf of the whole crew that we will attempt to remember that you are now Kenneth, rather than simply "Doctor".'

With a grateful nod to the Admiral, he turned back to the Kim's.

'As I was saying, Dr Lewis,' said Kit, smiling at the new experience of calling him by name, 'I'd like to introduce you to Harry Kim's parents, Masako and Jon. Masako founded the parents and families group that operated while we were in the Delta Quadrant.'

For the next half hour, Kit conducted him around the room talking to the many friends of Voyager who had worked for his freedom, and who were interested in the future of the crew. Admiral Paris and his wife Roberta were there, on behalf of Tom and B'Elanna, and Neelix, in his characteristic, voluble way, assured Kenneth that he had spoken recently to Chakotay, currently on Inged, and that the former first officer sent his best wishes.

Kit also introduced him to her own closest friends from Earth – Libby Lattimore, also Harry's ex-fiance, Kenneth recalled, and Clem Tran, a handsome young man and the civilian lawyer who was in the process of serving a habeus corpus motion on Starfleet on Dr Lewis' behalf. Tran was understandably nervous about Kenneth's escape, and its implications for his case and his subsequent career. As a result, Tran and Kit began a long and intricate legal conversation, to which Kenneth listened in bemused silence.

From the corner of his eye he saw Seven moving towards the door. This was one opportunity he didn't want to miss. He followed her towards the exit.

'Seven,' he called out.

She turned around to face him. 'Yes, Doctor?'

'I was hoping that we could,' he hesitated, 'meet for lunch some day soon. There's a lot I'd like to discuss with you.'

Again her expression seemed to be one of gentle sympathy. She smiled, but her eyes held a great deal of pity for him.

'I agree,' she said, nodding. 'Some discussion between us is advisable. I will bring some lunch, and we can have a quiet picnic.'

'Early next week?' he asked.

'Agreed,' she responded, and left the room.

Her look of gentle pity puzzled and haunted him for the rest of the day.