Homecoming - Christie Golden [57]
“You know, I’m willing to bet that neither Paris nor Barclay was watching the Doctor round the clock.”
With a sinking feeling, Janeway knew he was right. In fact, Paris had not tried to hide that he deliberately found excuses to leave the Doctor alone. From the little [169] she had been able to get from him during this brief time, the Doctor was playing nursemaid to little Miral, and Tom, like any parent, was taking full advantage of a trusted baby-sitter.
A trusted baby-sitter. ... “Did these witnesses see the Doctor carrying a part-Klingon infant?”
Irritated, Montgomery snapped, “Of course not. What nonsense is this?”
“I know that the Doctor was taking care of Lieutenant Commander Paris’s daughter. He would never leave an infant unsupervised, especially not his goddaughter.”
Montgomery smirked openly. “In light of recent events, I do not share your high opinion of the Doctor’s trustworthiness as a nanny, Admiral. Speaking of the Parises, I need to find B’Elanna Torres. I have a great deal of questions that only Voyager’s chief engineer would be able to answer. Can you put me in touch with her?”
Janeway narrowed her eyes. “As your security officer so deftly put it, they’re not my crew anymore. I have no idea where Lieutenant Torres is. You might want to speak to her husband.” Who happened to be standing out of sight behind her, but she wasn’t going to do anything to assist this officious man. “You’re trying to change the subject, Admiral. I want to speak with the Doctor.”
“I told you, he’s been—”
“Then reactivate him,” Janeway said, a hard edge to her voice.
“He’s a security risk if activated.”
“Admiral,” Janeway said, her voice deceptively calm, “if you reactivate him, all you need to do is place him [170] in a holding cell with holoemitters. If he tries to leave, he’ll cease to exist. He’s probably the single most secure prisoner Starfleet has ever had.”
Montgomery said nothing.
“Please let me speak with him,” she said, more gently than she had hitherto. “If he’s been involved in something like this, he’d be much more likely to be open with me than with you. If he’s guilty, I fully agree that he deserves to be punished. But I need to find that out.”
Montgomery sighed. “Very well,” he said at length. “But your conversation will be monitored.”
“Naturally,” said Janeway. “Permission granted. Montgomery out.”
It was fortunate, Janeway thought as she was marched down a long corridor with two burly guards on either side, that Starfleet had not gone the way of the civilian sector with regard to the current infatuation with holograms. Many technologies were completely automated. The rest relied on good old humanoids. Janeway felt that while holograms could be programmed to think faster than the human brain, they lacked something unique to humans—intuition and gut instinct.
Even as the thought came to her, she amended it. The Doctor was the exception. He had learned to develop hunches and instinctive responses that had served her and her ship and crew very well indeed over the last few years, but he was unique. He had been active for almost the entire duration of their long, strange journey, and had learned to exceed his programming. Holograms in Starfleet were regulated to entertainment [171] purposes, menial tasks, emergency situations, and extremely dangerous activities so that human lives need not be put at risk. Therefore, while Starfleet itself was scarcely impacted by this peculiar strike, the civilian sector was a huge mess indeed.
She was escorted to an empty cell with a table and two chairs. She glanced up at the corner to see a monitor with a shining red light. Montgomery was indeed going to be recording the conversation.
Several small lights chased each other around the baseboard; then there was a familiar sound and the Doctor stood before her. Delight and relief spread across his familiar face as he reached out to grasp her hands.
“Captain Jane—I mean, Admiral. How very, very good of you to come. I assume I have you to thank for my being reactivated.”
She smiled