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The corridor was old, lit only by emergency lighting at the base of the wall. Surfaces dusty save for the tracks of the other students who had previously moved through the space. It was a simple away mission activity. Practice moving in groups of three, assessing the space and working as a team to collect data.
SAM walked to the side of Caleb and Genesis, scanning the wall panels with abundant fascination.
“Wait! Did you see that?” Her voice was bright and enthusiastic. “There is a harmonic ripple in the structural supports. It’s faint. Almost as if the station is humming to itself.”
“You’re the only person who would describe a dead station as…humming,” Caleb replied as he glanced back.
“It’s not dead,” SAM explained cheerfully. “Just…quiet.”
Genesis scanned ahead, “I am picking up something more than emergency lights head, something discharged recently.”
“Oh! Maybe an automated system. Or a defense protocol that didn’t get a shutdown system. I can go first, you know, I can be permeable.”
A faint whine rose in the space ahead of them.
Caleb’s expression snapped to serious, “Down!” As he began to move a white light shot from an opening in the ceiling.
It struck SAM in the chest.
For a split second she fractured into a web of light before snapping back into her form.
Silence.
Genesis was at her side immediately. “Sam!”
SAM blinked twice before her smile returned, slightly less bubbly than before. “Wow. Okay, that was different.”
“I think we should go back to the ship,” Genesis suggested as she led them away.
“Talk to me, Sam,” Caleb said as he worked to scan her as they walked.
She moved her hands experimentally, feeling herself as solid. “I am fully operational.” She reached towards the wall as they walked, the tips of her fingers passing through the surface, a shimmer going through her form.
Genesis saw it. “Sam?”
“Just a disconnect between my projection buffer during a forced recalibration.” She paused, a moment too long. “I am experiencing a minor latency in response between my sensory input and motor output.” All the enthusiasm and bubbliness dropping from her voice.
From behind them the whining sound rose in pitch again.
“We need to move,” Genesis stated as she glanced back, grabbing SAM by the arm.
“Sam, can you walk?” Caleb asked as he put himself behind her, in the hope that if the weapon fired it would hit him this time.
“Yes, of course,” she replied as she moved forward. For a moment her form shimmered in two places at once before catching up with itself. “My internal synchronization appears to be offset by approximately…” she thought for a moment, “...point 3 seconds.”
Another pulse fired, this time hitting Caleb in the back with a wince. SAM flickered again. “We are leaving. Now!” Caleb directed.
“My internal synchronization appears to be offset by approximately…point 3 seconds.”
“You just said that,” Caleb replied tightly.
Genesis grabbed SAM’s hand, pulling her along the corridor. “That helps,” SAM whispered.
“What helps?” Genesis asked as they moved back to the entrance.
“It gives me reference,” SAM explained as she squeezed Genesis’s hand. “Like when my emitters calibrate based on environmental data. Except it’s you and you are not the environment.”
Caleb glanced at them, his back still aching from the pulse that hit it. “We can poetically describe calibration metaphors later. I for one don’t want to get hit by that again.”
SAM’s form stuttered once again as they left the station.
---
The sickbay on the Athena was dim, open, with diagnostics surrounding the space.
SAM lay on a biobed, the edges of her form shimmered concernably.
Caleb analyzed her primary system, “Your outer architecture is intact. I can see the cascade failures from the hit, but it's not behaving like a virus.”
“It isn’t,” the Doctor explained sharply. “It’s structural destabilization. Whatever hit her was designed to attack photonics.”
Genesis hovered near the bed, one hand resting against SAM’s arm, not moving it even when SAM’s form flickered again.
The Doctor stepped closer. “SAM, I’m initiating holographic matrix resonance, this may help.”
Caleb looked up, “You can do that?”
“I am the longest continuously operating EMH in Starfleet history,” he replied, grasping one of SAM’s hands. “There are advantages.”
For a moment nothing happened. Then SAM’s form began to stabilize, the shimmering to her form decreasing.
“Oh, that feels nice,” SAM replied lazily with a smile.
The Doctor did not smile. “I am temporarily synchronizing my emitter harmonics with your destabilized subroutines. It is not a repair.”
“It’s a hug,” SAM said faintly.
The Doctor stiffened. “It’s not a hug.”
Caleb glanced at them with a shrug, “It’s kinda a hug.”
The Doctor shot him a look before turning back to SAM. “My matrix architecture is not identical to yours and I likely do not have the skills to repair it directly even if it was. But your matrix may be able to repair itself given time.”
“Have you repaired yourself?” SAM asked.
“Yes,” the Doctor replied, not elaborating.
SAM flickered again, just for a moment. Genesis gave the Doctor a worried look. “Her matrix is attempting self-correction,” the Doctor explained.
On the display Caleb watched the failures gradually decrease.
SAM stared at her display absentmindedly before turning to the Doctor. “Doctor?”
“What?”
“Did you ever have a photonic friend?”
The question hung there in silence before he responded, “Yes.” SAM brightened, starting to turn towards him. “Stay still, movement might disrupt your repairs.”
“What happened to them?”
“Most things are lost with time. Photonics and organics alike.”
The silence hung over them until SAM flickered again. More subtly, but visible. “I don’t like when I flicker,” she admitted softly. “It feels like…I am not myself for a moment. Like I might disappear into nothing.” Her voice dropped down to a whisper, “I don’t want to be nothing.”
The Doctor’s grip on her hand increased. “You are not going to disappear.”
“But there was a change in your sensitivity calibrations when I flickered,” SAM explained. “Did I make you frightened? I didn’t mean to do that.”
The Doctor hesitated, briefly before replying, “This is not your fault.”
“Her matrix is repairing itself, it seems mostly stabilized,” Caleb pointed out.
“Yes,” the Doctor said.
SAM seemed to focus inward for a second. “That’s fascinating.”
Genesis let out a shaky breath. Finally allowing herself to feel some relief for her friend, “You’re fascinated?”
“A little,” SAM admitted. “I’ve never experienced internal reconstruction at this scale before.” She turned to the Doctor, “I was afraid.” Her words were small, honest.
The Doctor’s expression shifted, just barely, a gentleness coming through, “You are very young.”
“Chronologically I am programmed to be seventeen,” she huffed.
“You are young,” he repeated.
Her lips curved into a smile, “...Okay.”
The Doctor removed his hand from hers. SAM didn’t destabilize. “You’re back,” Genesis said.
“I was always here,” SAM said with a smile though her voice was still quieter, less effervescent.
The doctor moved back, monitoring. “You will remain in sick bay for observation.”
“You’re worried?” SAM asked.
“I am being prudent. It is not everyday I have a holographic student as a mentee.”
SAM smiled, wide this time. “Doctor, Emergency Medical Hologram Mark 1, you will not regret this. I can be the best mentee ever!”
“That is precisely what concerns me.”