DISCLAIMER:  All things Star Trek belong to Paramount.  My ideas
as expressed in this story belong to me.  Thanks to my beta
readers DangerMom, Jamelia116, Lirren and MacIntyre7 for their 
invaluable assistance.  As usual, send all comments to 
AnnitaS@aol.com.  This story is rated PG-13.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This story takes place sometime following the
events in "Day of Honor" and "Revulsion" and assumes an
established relationship between Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres.




               "I swear this oath by Apollo
               Physician, by Asclepias, by Health
               and by all the gods and goddesses:
               in whatsoever place that I enter, I
               will enter to help the sick and
               heal the injured...

                    ...And I Will Do No Harm"*
                             By Neetz

     "Captain, the representative from the Dietca is requesting
to speak to you."
     "On screen," the captain ordered, turning her attention to
the viewscreen before her.  She managed to heave a sigh just
before the image of the rotund, fidgety diplomat appeared.
     "Deeta Quarlin, what can I do for you?" she asked, her
sarcastic tone lost on the self-absorbed little man.
     "Captain Janeway, oh, of course, you have no idea!"
     "No, not until you tell me," she agreed, flicking a glance
at Chakotay when she heard him stifle a snort.  She was a little
bit aggravated he could still find their situation amusing.
     When Voyager had arrived in Dietcan space, they had been
hailed by representatives of the planetary government.  They
boasted of the rich resources of their planet and seemed more
than willing to negotiate in trade.  It had appeared to be an
opportunity too good to pass up.
     That had been three days ago.  Since that time, it seemed
there was always one delay or another, one small favor after
another, requested by the Dietcans through their appointed
spokesman, Deeta Quarlin.  The Deeta, or high councilman, as it
seemed the title signified, had sorely tried the captain's
patience with his constant entreaties and excuses for the
Dietcan's delays.  Had Voyager not been in such dire need of
supplies, Janeway would have left after the first day.
     "It's the Odalatta, Captain," Quarlin explained.  "They've
crashed a ship on our third moon, right near our research
outpost!  It's the will of the starlords, of course, they didn't
hit the station itself!"
     Janeway's expression became serious.  "Were there
survivors?" she asked.
     "Well, yes.  One." Quarlin replied.  "That's why I'm calling
you!  Of course!"
     "You are in need of our assistance?"  Not surprising.
     "Well, of course, we certainly don't know what to do with
this Odalatta!  They're a disgusting race, to be sure!"
     "And you want us... to do what, Deeta?"
     "Well, of course, we don't want him to die!  But what can we
do with him?  We have no facilities equipped to treat his
injuries.  I'm sure your ship, with its advanced features would,
of course, have no problem."
     "Are his injuries critical?" Janeway asked.
     "Well, we wouldn't know, now would we?  We just don't know
about how they are... constructed.  And no desire to know, I'm
sure.  But we don't want to, of course, just leave him to die."
     "Have you contacted his own people?"
     "Well, no.  We don't talk to them as a rule, of course."
     "Well, of course, not," Janeway mimicked.  Again, her tone
was lost on Quarlin.  "Very well, give us his location and we'll
beam him to our sickbay.  But you will have to notify the proper
authorities among the Odalatta."
     "Of course, Captain, of course."
     Janeway broke the connection and turned toward Harry Kim. 
"Ensign, please obtain the proper coordinates from the Deeta and
notify sickbay to prepare for the survivor's arrival."
     "Yes, Captain," Harry replied.  No early day of it for
Paris, he thought as his fingers floated over the controls to
retrieve the data.  So much for their planned holodeck outing
with B'Elanna.
     Harry's free time with his two best friends had been
severely limited of late, though he didn't blame them for it. 
Since they had finally acknowledged to each other that they were
in love, most of their time had been spent alone together.  To
their credit, though, Tom and B'Elanna had made a point to
schedule activities to include him and done their best not to let
him feel like a third wheel.  It was just that sometimes, they'd
forget they had been gazing longingly at each other for five
minutes before they remembered Harry was in the room!  At least
on a rock climbing foray on the holodeck, they would have been
too involved in the strenuous activity to drift off into romantic
reverie.  Oh, well...
     "Kim to Sickbay."
     "Paris here.  What's up, Harry?" came his friend's cheerful
voice.
     "The captain wanted me to alert you that we have a patient
for you, Tom."
     "Someone's been injured?" the helmsman/medical assistant
asked.
     "Yes, but not a crewman."  He related the Deeta's story. 
"I'm requesting coordinates now.  Should have him to you in a few
minutes, unless the Dietcans delay in replying."
     "Which they will," Tom replied.
     " Looks like we'll have to cancel tonight."
     He heard Paris sigh.  "What can I say, Harry?  I'm in
demand!  Don't worry, we'll reschedule for tomorrow night, unless
you and Seven have something planned together.  Paris out."
     Harry didn't get a chance to retort before Tom cut the
connection.  The younger man sighed and returned to work.
                               ***
     Tom Paris smiled to himself at the look of consternation he
knew was now on Harry's face.  Sometimes he just couldn't help
himself.  Harry made it too easy to resist!  And this recent
infatuation with their newly acquired former Borg crewmate was
just grist for the mill.
     "Computer, activate Emergency Medical Hologram," he called,
setting about arranging the instruments on the tray beside the
surgical bed.
     "Yes, Mr. Paris, what is it?" the doctor asked.
     Tom cocked his head toward the doctor.  "You know, Doc, I
kinda miss the 'please state the nature...' speech.  It was so...
you."
     "Somehow it seemed redundant considering the most likely
reason for my being summoned has always been to repair whatever
injury you've managed to do to yourself.  I felt it would be more
appropriate to direct my inquiry to you in the first place."
     "And since I'm working here..."
     "It's the only way I knew to keep you off my beds!" the
doctor replied.
     Tom chuckled.  "So, recruiting me as your assistant was an
effort on your part to insure my continued good health?"
     "In a manner of speaking," he replied.
     "I'm grateful," Tom feigned sincerity.
     "You should be.  Now that you and Lieutenant Torres are...
seeing each other, I imagine I'll be treating you for bites and
broken bones quite often."
     Tom shook his head in defeat.  "Okay, I get the point." 
Holding his hands out at the tray table in dramatic style, he
smiled back at the doctor.  "Your instruments are ready and
waiting for you, Doc."
     "I assume we have a patient on the way?"
     "Yes," Tom replied.  "From a species known as the Odalatta. 
His ship crashed and he's apparently the sole survivor."
     "And I suppose we have no medical information on this
species?"
     "Of course not," Tom replied.  "Do we ever?"
     "I live in hope," the doctor replied as he ran a check of
the instrument tray Paris had laid out.  "Mr. Paris!"
     "Yes?" Tom turned back toward him.
     "You've neglected to place the endomorphic scanner on the
table."
     "Sorry," Tom replied, taking several quick strides across
the room to retrieve the device.
     "How do you expect me to examine a member of an alien
species without an endomorphic scan?"
     "Guess I don't," Tom replied, narrowing his gaze at the
doctor as he placed the instrument in question on the tray.
     "What kind of an assistant are you?  How can you be of any
help to me if you don't know the most rudimentary of procedures? 
How can I depend on you in an emergency?  I'm used to a little
competency around here, I..."  He suddenly stopped his tirade and
turned away from Tom.  "I am sorry, Mr. Paris.  That was uncalled
for."
     "It's okay, Doc.  I'm used to it."
     The doctor turned back to look at Tom, a pained expression
on his face.  "Yes, I guess you are," he sighed.  "Well, you
shouldn't be.  I have no right to expect you to perform at the
same level as...."  Once more he stopped mid-sentence.
     Tom looked at him with understanding.  "We all miss Kes,
Doc.  But I know you probably miss her the most.  You worked
together for almost three years.  There's no way I could ever
replace her.  I know that."
     "No," he replied.  "No one could replace Kes."  He seemed
lost in thought for a moment and Tom stood by in silence, not
wanting to intrude on the doctor's reverie.  At length, the
doctor seemed to remember he wasn't alone and looked up at Tom. 
"But you are wrong about one thing, Tom.  You are quite capable
of becoming an excellent medical assistant.  You have the basic
training, the manual dexterity and you are a quick study.  Plus,
you manage to keep your wits in a crisis.  That's why I chose you
to work with me until a permanent assistant can be found.  Those
same skills make you an invaluable pilot, and I realize that that
is your primary focus.  I am grateful for your help, even if I am
not very good at showing it."
     Tom was taken by surprise for a moment by the doctor's
words.  He was used to trading barbs with the physician.  It had
become like a game to them, and it wasn't often Doc got so
serious.
     He placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder.  "Thanks, Doc.  I
appreciate your confidence, and I'll try to do better at
anticipating your needs.  But if you're going to go and be nice
to me, you'll totally destroy my concentration."
     The EMH tried to look annoyed, but the slight upturn at the
corner of his mouth betrayed him.
     "Transporter Room 2 to Sickbay.  We're prepared to beam your
patient in now."
     "Go ahead," the doctor replied.  Immediately, the shimmer of
the transporter effect appeared over the surgical biobed and the
Odalatta materialized.
     "Geez!" Tom exclaimed.  "He's huge!"
     "Less commentary and more assistance, Mr. Paris," the doctor
scolded.
     "Yes, Doctor," he replied, handing the physician the medical
tricorder and scanner.
     The doctor wouldn't admit it, but he had to agree with
Paris' remark.  The Odalatta was at least eight feet tall, with
facial ridges three times as prominent as the most well-defined
Klingon could aspire to.  His face came to a point in the form of
a large snout.  Course black hair thickly covered his entire
body.  His booted feet seemed to simply be widened extensions of
his tree-trunk legs, but the most obvious feature was his arms. 
Stretched down the sides of his body, they extended just past his
knees and each ended, not in fingers, but in two knifelike
blades, about six inches long, that appeared metallic.  There
were a number of cuts and abrasions evident on his skin that
oozed a bluish green fluid.  The doctor began his scan at his
patient's head.
     Tom couldn't take his eyes off the hand resting at the
alien's side, as he readied the endomorphic scanner. Curiosity
got the better of him, and he grabbed a regular tricorder and
trained it on the vicious-looking blades.  His eyes widened when
he saw the readings.
     "Be careful, Doc," he warned, reaching out and tugging the
EMH back from the bed.  "You don't want to get in range of those
hands."
     "Don't be ridiculous," the EMH replied.  "The man is
unconscious and even if he were not, he could hardly do me any
harm.  You seem to have forgotten I'm a hologram.  Those blades,
while most likely quite lethal weapons to a flesh and blood
being, could certainly do me no damage."
     "I'm sorry, Doc, but you're wrong.  I'm getting highly
charged energy readings from those things, although I can't get a
lock on the source.  If you even touch them, it could disrupt
your holomatrix.  In fact, I think we should consult with
B'Elanna on this one.  I'm not sure how much damage that kind of
energy flow could do you."
     "I see no need to disturb Lieutenant Torres," he replied. 
"I'll simply exercise due caution."  He trained his own tricorder
on the appendages and frowned at what he saw.  "On the other
hand..."
     Tom smiled and tapped his comm badge.  "Paris to Torres."
     "Yes, Tom?"
     "B'Elanna, could you come down to sickbay?  We need a
consultation on our new patient."
     "On my way.  Torres out."
     "Well, you both managed to make that sound all business,"
the doctor commented dryly as he resumed his scan.
     "It *is* business," Tom insisted.
     "Of course, you could have asked her to send Lieutenant
Carey," the doctor responded.
     "Nah," Tom replied.  "He isn't my type."  He waited, his most
innocent expression firmly in place, for the doctor's reaction
and wasn't disappointed when he received a frozen look over the
EMH's shoulder.  As soon as the doctor turned his attention back
to his patient, Tom smiled to himself.
     "I'm detecting what appears to be swelling of his cranial
tissues.  It is, of course, difficult to determine with no basis
for comparison, but I'd say he's suffering some kind of brain
injury."
     "It might be a good idea to sedate him, don't you think?  We
don't want him waking up suddenly," Tom suggested.
     The doctor shook his head.  "We have no idea what his body's
reaction would be to our sedatives, especially with this type of
injury.  And if this *is* as severe as it appears, he won't be
waking up anytime soon.  We may have to consider putting him in
stasis to perform surgery."
     The sickbay doors swished open to admit B'Elanna Torres. 
"Wow," she exclaimed when she caught sight of their patient. 
"He's huge!"
     "See?" Tom couldn't suppress a grin as he turned toward the
doctor.  "Told ya."
     B'Elanna's gaze narrowed.  "If you called me down here to
settle a disagreement on this guy's size, I think my time is
being wasted," B'Elanna complained, although without any force
behind her words.
     "No, actually we'd like you to check out the energy readings
on his, for lack of a better term, hands," Tom told her.  "I'm
worried they could interfere with Doc's matrix."
     B'Elanna took out her scanner.  "You're right," she
confirmed.  "I'm reading a dormant energy charge, but I don't
find any kind of device that could be producing it.  Is it
possible this is natural to his species?"
     Tom gaped at her in disbelief.  "You're suggesting he could
have been born with those blades for hands?"
     She shook her head.  "Probably not since they seem to be
made of refined metal.  I'd say they were surgically added, but
the energy seems to be emanating from an organ in his body
itself."
     "It's quite possible," the doctor commented.  "The electric
eel of Earth, for example, is known to produce an energy
discharge when threatened."
     "This guy's no eel," B'Elanna replied.  "And these readings
show pretty high levels of magnatronic energy in a dormant state. 
It's possible he could produce a stronger discharge if he were
awake.  A discharge of that type could fragment your matrix
completely.  Since we no longer have the diagnostic program for
backup, it's quite possible we could never recover your program."
     "Then, by all mean, let's keep him asleep," Tom said.
     "Mr. Paris, may I remind you, we are here to keep him
 alive.'"
     "Yeah, I remember," Tom replied, none too happy about the
situation.
     "I'd suggest force field restraint," B'Elanna offered.  "That
way, if he does wake up, he'll have a harder time getting his...
hands on you?"
     "Or in you," Tom amended.
     "A prudent suggestion, Lieutenant," the doctor replied,
ignoring Tom's remark.  "Mr. Paris, if you'll do the honors."
     Tom shrugged at B'Elanna.  "Sure thing, Doc."  As he moved
cautiously toward the other side of the bed to activate the force
field controls, B'Elanna followed him.
     "I take it this means we're not going rock climbing
tonight?" she whispered.
     "I'd say that's pretty certain.  Doc's gonna need help with
this one, and, besides, I don't think I want to leave him alone
with this guy.  He isn't exactly used to having to be careful."
     "You're used to it, but it hasn't seemed to do you any
good," B'Elanna reminded him.
     "Yeah, well, I'm working on it."
     She smiled.  "See that you do."  She glanced quickly to be
sure the doctor's attention was elsewhere and planted a quick
kiss on Tom's cheek.  "See you later?"
     "Much," Tom sighed.
     "Don't worry, I'll wait."
     He smiled and watched her leave.
     "Perhaps while you're functioning as my assistant, I should
have Lieutenant Torres barred from sickbay.  Her presence seems
to have a disruptive effect on your concentration."  The doctor's
eyes never left his scanner, but Tom was certain he'd been
watching the entire exchange with B'Elanna.
     "I promise to do better, Doc."
     "See that you do," he echoed B'Elanna's earlier words and
quirked a quick smile at Paris' reaction.  "Now, I need that
endomorphic scanner and prepare the cortical osmosizer."
     "Yes, Doctor," Tom sighed and moved to carry out his orders.
                               ***
     "So, you can't make any kind of definite prognosis, Doctor?"
the captain asked, obviously unhappy about the situation.
     "I'm afraid not, Captain," Doc replied over the viewscreen
from sickbay.  "I *can* report that his vital signs have remained
stable, and for that reason, I am reluctant to initiate any type
of invasive treatment, but I am concerned by the cranial
swelling.  With no baseline to compare with, I cannot say exactly
how serious his condition is.  In a human, he would most likely
be dead.  If his condition begins to deteriorate, I may have to
chance surgery.  Is there any possibility of getting in contact
with his people?"
     "I've approached Deeta Quarlin about that... again.  He
claims to be attempting to contact them, but I'm afraid the
Dietcans have refined procrastination and self-interest to an art
form!  I'll stay on him and let you know as soon as we learn
anything useful.  Thank you, Doctor."
     The doctor nodded as the screen went blank.
     "Mr. Kim," the captain called.
     "Yes, Captain?"
     She looked toward Chakotay and heaved a sigh.  "Hail Deeta
Quarlin once more."
     "Of course, Captain," Kim replied, unaware of his
unfortunate choice of words until he had uttered them.  He
glanced up contritely to find himself on the receiving end of
Janeway's infamous "looks."
                               ***
     The doctor walked out of his office and headed for his
patient.  "Any change?" he asked Tom who stood a few feet away at
the surgical bay monitors.
     "I've detected a slight increase in brain wave activity in
the last couple of minutes, but I emphasize 'slight.'  Could be
he's dreaming."
     The doctor came up next to him to take a look at the
monitors himself.  "It's possible, but I'd like to run another
cranial scan with the Blazec imager.  It's much more precise than
an ordinary scan and can detect minute changes in the size and
configuration of the brain."
     "You think maybe with this activity, the swelling could be
going down?"
     "That's what I'd like to determine."
     "I'll get the imager," Tom replied, headed for the cabinets.
     The doctor took another look at the monitors before him,
then stepped around them and approached the biobed.  Grabbing his
standard medical scanner, he brought it up to the Odalatta's
temple, his eyes on the readings.  He made another adjustment,
fine tuning the parameters of the tricorder to scan one
particular area of the alien's brain.  He was so engrossed in
what he saw, he failed to notice the movement of his patient's
hand.
     Tom unpacked the imager and lifted the delicate instrument
off the counter.  As he turned and headed back, a flash of light
caught his attention.  It only took a second for him to realize
it had been reflected off the blade-like fingers of the Odalatta. 
They were moving!
     "Doc!" Tom cried, just as one massive arm came up off the
bed in a shower of electrical sparks.  The force field! Tom
realized.  Somehow, the energy resident in the alien's arm had
shorted it out with no effort at all.
     At Tom's cry, the doctor looked up from his scanner just in
time to see the pyrotechnic display accompanied by a roar from
his patient.  In surprise, he took a step away from the bed.  It
wasn't enough.  The oversized span of the Odalatta's arm
continued in an arc, headed straight for the doctor.
     "No!" Tom cried, dropping the imager and lunging across the
open floor.  There was no way he could reach the doctor in time,
but he was closer to the swinging arm and launched himself for
it.  He managed to grab the wrist before the blades could make
contact with the doctor.  The force of his lunge and the strength
of the Odalatta carried him careening into the EMH, who was still
so stunned he had forgotten to dematerialize at the contact and
was knocked across the floor.
     Tom landed hard on the floor between the two.  As the
Odalatta rose from the bed, the pilot scrambled to his feet,
holding out his hands in a conciliatory posture.
     "We don't mean you any harm.  You were injured.  We were
trying to help you," he said as clearly as he could, hoping the
universal translator would do its job.
     Obviously it didn't, or perhaps the language of the Odalatta
was just too different for it to analyze quickly.  The mammoth
alien towered over Tom, his gaze intent on the doctor.  He
reached to shove Tom out of the way, but the helmsman jumped in
front of him, intending to block the arm that was reaching toward
the EMH.  The tempered blades sank deep into his side.
     Tom cried out in pain as the sharp knives penetrated and a
burning sensation, like a million fire ants, filled his body. 
The energy discharge, his screaming mind told him.  The alien
withdrew the blades immediately, but before Tom could sink to the
floor, he drove them in again, this time just to the right of the
center of Tom's chest.  He screamed in agony.  The Odalatta
pulled back his hand again, but this time, before he could
advance another strike, a bright beam of light flashed across
over Tom's slumping body, striking the rampaging alien's head. 
He roared in pain, the palms of his knife-fingered hands flying
to the sides of his head, then, anticlimactically, he simply sank
into a heap next to Paris.
     "Security team to sickbay.  Emergency!" the doctor intoned
as he dropped the phaser from his hand and stepped quickly over
the inert body of the Odalatta, grabbing his medical tricorder as
he dropped to his knees next to Tom.
     "D-Doc?" Tom gasped, his voice barely audible.  "I-I can't...
b-breathe."
     "The second stroke punctured your lung," the doctor told
him, then wasting no more time, he threaded his arms under the
injured man's back and knees and lifted him effortlessly, gently
placing him on the now-vacant surgical bed.  Quickly he engaged
the diagnostic/treatment console, the two crescent-shaped halves
rising to meet and form a protective half circle around Paris.
     The sounds of Tom's harsh gasps for breath took on an
ominous gurgling sound, and his lips moved, but no sound emanated
from him.  The doctor quickly grabbed at the tray, immediately
locating the appropriate hypospray and turned back to Tom.  The
instrument hissed against Tom's neck, then was quickly reset and
applied once more.  As soon as he'd pressured in the medication,
he tossed the hypospray back onto the tray and returned to the
diagnostic/treatment controls.
     At that moment, the sickbay doors opened to admit Tuvok and
his security team.
     "Doctor, what has occurred here?"
     The doctor spoke without taking his eyes or his hands off
the panel.  "My patient attacked me, and Mr. Paris placed himself
in the way.  I was forced to stun the Odalatta.  Mr. Paris'
injuries require my immediate attention, Commander.  Please see
to securing our unconscious friend.  And you should know, he
seemed to have no trouble breaking free of the standard restraint
field."
     Tuvok lifted a medical tricorder from another instrument
tray and moved to the alien's side.
     "Tom, can you hear me?" the doctor spoke firmly as he leaned
closer to the pilot's face.  Only a slight nodding of Paris' head
indicated he had.  "I've administered a tri-ox compound.  It
should ease your breathing a bit, and it will supply the needed
oxygen to your vital organs.  I've also given you something for
the pain.  You should begin to feel the effects immediately."
     Tom nodded again.
     "I have managed to stop a significant percentage of the
bleeding, but your injuries are severe.  I will have to put you
in stasis to operate.  Do you understand?"
     "Ysss" came the barely audible reply.
     "You are going to be all right.  There is nothing I can't
repair.  You are going to be fine."
     "D-Doc?" he gasped, then his head lolled to one side as he
lost consciousness.
     "*Will* he be all right, Doctor?" Tuvok asked, startling the
doctor who hadn't expected to find the security chief at his
elbow.
     "Yes, he will."  His tone indicated he wouldn't accept any
other prognosis.  "But I must perform surgery immediately.  I
don't have time to deal with our friend there."
     "There will be no need to *deal* with the Odalatta.  He is
dead."
     "What?!" the doctor cried, whirling to gaze down at the
crumpled hulk on the floor.
     Tuvok held up the tricorder so the doctor could see the
readings he'd just taken.  "I ran a scan and there is no
indication of brain activity or any other standard life signs."
     The doctor practically ripped the tricorder from Tuvok's
hand and stared at the readout.  "That's not possible.  The
phaser was on stun, I..."  He stopped as the answer occurred to
him.  "The beam struck him in the head.  It was the only clear
shot I could get.  He was already suffering from a severe brain
injury.  The phaser blast, even on stun must have been more than
he could take."  He looked away, his eyes wide in shock.  "I-I
killed him."
     "According to your statement, you acted in self-defense and
in defense of Lieutenant Paris.  What's more, your intention was
not to kill, but to stun.  It is simply unfortunate that
circumstances left you no choice."
     "You don't understand.  I'm a doctor.  I don't kill people. 
I heal them.  I've lost patients before, but I've never..."
     "Doctor, you stated that time is of the essence in Mr.
Paris' treatment," Tuvok reminded him quietly, but firmly.
     "What?  Oh, yes, yes," he turned back to Tom, but hesitated
before the controls.
     "Perhaps I can offer my assistance?" Tuvok prompted.
     "What?" the doctor looked at him, clearly not comprehending
what Tuvok had said.
     "In treating Mr. Paris.  You will likely need assistance."
     The doctor glanced at him, then closed his eyes for a
moment.  "Yes," he nodded.  "I would appreciate your help."
     Tuvok motioned for his team to remove the body, then stepped
up to the doctor.  "You must concentrate on saving Mr. Paris'
life, Doctor.  That is your first priority."
     "Yes, you're right."  He rubbed his thumbs across the
fingertips of each hand before reaching out to the controls
again.  "Please bring me a level four surgery pack from the third
storage compartment from the left."
     "Yes, Doctor," Tuvok replied, giving the doctor a quick
appraising glance, satisfying himself that the doctor was more or
less under control, before heading for the cabinets.
                               ***
     B'Elanna Torres burst out of the turbolift onto Deck 5 and
ran down the corridor to sickbay.  When she stepped inside, the
sight before her froze her in her tracks.
     Tom was lying on the biobed in the surgical bay.  Seated on
a stool beside him was the doctor.  One hand rested on Tom's
shoulder, the elbow of the other arm was planted on the bed, and
his forehead rested on that hand.  As B'Elanna stood watching,
she could hear the doctor whispering, "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."
     "Oh, my God!" she gasped, her own hands flying to her mouth
to stifle the cry that was filling her throat.
     The doctor's head rose and turned toward the sound of her
voice.  The look in his eyes chilled her to the core.
     "Please," she entreated.  "He can't be..."
     The doctor jumped to his feet as he realized what she had
been about to say.  "No," he assured her quickly.  "He's holding
his own.  He came through the surgery fine.  My only concern at
this point is the possibility of infection.  I've been monitoring
him constantly.  So far, there is no sign."
     B'Elanna felt her knees go weak with relief and staggered a
step to a nearby counter for support.  The doctor moved quickly
to her side.  "Come over here and sit beside him," he suggested
gently.  He took hold of her arm and guided her to the stool he
had just vacated.
     She reached out and gently stroked Tom's too-pale cheek.  It
was reassuringly warm to the touch.  She sighed in relief once
more.
     "When I came in and saw you, I thought..."
     "Yes, I understand.  I'm sorry I frightened you."
     Something in the doctor's tone bothered her and she turned
to look at him.  She realized that every word he had spoken since
she had arrived had seemed flat, with no hint of is usual bright
inflection.  When she looked at his eyes again, she saw the same
expression she had seen when he'd first turned to face her.  It
was so out of place on the doctor's face, she hadn't recognized
it at first, but she had seen that haunted look once before.  At
the memorial service she had attended with Tom and Kes for the
doctor's daughter.
     "Doctor?"
     "Yes?"
     "If Tom is going to be all right, then what's wrong?"
     "I..." he began, then stopped abruptly.  "Are you aware of
the circumstances of Lieutenant Paris' injuries?"
     She shook her head.  "Harry called me when Tuvok reported to
the bridge.  He said the alien we transported for treatment
attacked Tom and he was badly hurt.  I didn't ask for details, I
just got down here as quickly as I could."
     "That's quite understandable."
     "What happened?" she asked.
     "The Odalatta patient broke free of the restraining field. 
I believe he used an energy surge to short it out.  He was about
to attack me.  Mr. Paris... Tom grabbed his arm and knocked me
out of the way.  Then he stepped between us and took the blow
that was meant for me."
     B'Elanna turned back and looked at Tom's face again, a hint
of pride mixed with sadness showed in her eyes.  "He knew the
energy could destroy your holomatrix.  Tom wouldn't think twice
about it.  It's instinct with him, to protect the people he cares
about."
     "And it almost cost him his life."
     B'Elanna looked back at him.  "But it didn't," she stated
firmly, feeling the need to convince herself as well as the
doctor.  "You said it yourself.  He's going to be fine."
     "Yes."
     "Something else is bothering you."
     The doctor looked away as he spoke.  "In order to stop the
attack on Tom, I was forced to stun the injured Odalatta with a
phaser."
     "I didn't know you kept a phaser in here."
     "There is a secured weapons locker just inside my office. 
When I was knocked to the floor, I was only a few feet from it. 
If I had been closer, I might have prevented the second attack."
     "Second?"
     He nodded grimly.  "Tom was stabbed twice, both times, both
blades penetrated to a depth of several inches.  The second jab
perforated Tom's right lung.  A few centimeters more to the left
and it would have struck his heart."
     B'Elanna bit her lip, her hand reaching out to take hold of
Tom's.
     "Where's the alien now?"
     "He's dead."
     "Dead?  But I thought you said you stunned him."
     "The phaser was set on stun.  Mr. Paris was between us.  The
only shot I could get was at his head.  With his previous brain
injury, the phaser blast was too much.  I killed him."
     She stared at the doctor for a moment, suddenly realizing
what had truly been bothering the doctor all along.  "He would
have killed Tom if you hadn't fired. *He* attacked *you.* You had
no choice."
     "Tom tried to tell him we were trying to help him, but he
couldn't understand."  He opened his hand and held it out to her. 
"I found this on the floor a few minutes ago.  It must have been
knocked off when Tom was first thrown into me."  B'Elanna looked
at the shiny object in the doctor's palm.  It was a comm badge. 
"Without the universal translator in the badge, the Odalatta
couldn't understand what Tom was saying.  He awoke in a strange
place, most likely in great pain, and found himself under
restraint.  He was struggling to free himself.  He misinterpreted
our actions as attacks.  He had no way of knowing we were trying
to help him.  He was just defending himself."
     "What else could you have done?" B'Elanna asked.
     The doctor shook his head.  "I don't know.  Maybe if I'd
been paying more attention, if I had noticed sooner that he was
beginning to awaken, then Tom wouldn't have felt he had to jump
between us."
     "You don't know if it would have made any difference," she
insisted.  "Doctor, you can't second guess what happened now."
     "But I must.  Don't you see?  It was my inattention that
precipitated the whole incident.  As a result, Tom almost died,
and I took an innocent life."
     "Doctor..."
     The doctor's voice grew louder.  "'I will do no harm.' 
That's part of the Hippocratic oath.  Did you know that? 
Technically, since I am a hologram, I never took the oath, but
it's a basic part of my programming.  I violated that oath.  My
actions resulted in another's death."
     "You didn't intend to kill him."
     "Nevertheless, I was the cause."
     "You had no way of knowing.  You're not infallible. 
Everybody makes mistakes."
     "I'm not everybody!" he shouted.  "I'm not anybody," he added
much more quietly.  "I'm just a holographic simulation with an
overinflated ego.  Always sure I know what right, what's best. 
Well, I was wrong."
     "Doctor..."
     "No, B'Elanna.  I don't want to talk about this anymore. 
Stay with Tom.  I'll monitor him from my office."  With that, he
turned and walked away.
                               ***
     B'Elanna sat and watched Tom sleep.  He steadily seemed to
be regaining the color in his face, and about an hour before, he
had started mumbling and moving his head in his sleep.  They were
all good signs according to Doc, who'd stepped out of his office
three times to check on Tom, even though he could monitor all the
helmsman's medical data from his office console.  He seemed to
need to see for himself, and each time he stepped up next to the
bed, he'd unobtrusively touch Paris' hand or shoulder or
forehead.  B'Elanna understood the need for contact very well. 
She had sat here for hours clutching Tom's hand because she
needed to know he was still there, still very much alive.  No
doubt, Doc felt the same way.
     Despite appearances, B'Elanna knew he had come to think of
Tom as a friend; maybe since Kes left, his closest friend.  The
verbal sparring they seemed to constantly engage in was something
they both enjoyed.  Deep down, they held a grudging respect for
each other, born of the recognition of a kindred spirit.  Both
had started this voyage as outsiders, with hardly anyone to call
a friend. B'Elanna had at least had her comrades from the Maquis. 
Tom found it easy to relate to the doctor's feelings of isolation
and she knew Paris had a genuine affection for him.
     She looked toward the window to the doctor's office.  He
appeared to be reading a file he had called up on his monitor,
but she'd noticed the screen hadn't changed for some time.  He
was taking both Tom's injury and the death of the Odalatta very
hard.  Too hard.
     Tom made another soft groaning sound, and B'Elanna tightened
her grip on his hand.  "Tom?"  there was no response, but he
seemed a bit more restless.  That meant he was trying to wake up. 
"It's okay," she whispered.  "Get all the sleep you need.  I'll be
here when you wake up."  He made another sound, almost as if in
reply, the settled down in peaceful slumber once again.
     When she looked up from Tom's face, she saw the doctor
watching through the window and she nodded her head and gave him
a smile.  The smile he offered in return was obviously forced. 
He hesitated a moment, then, rose and stepped out of the office. 
He ran a tricorder scan over Tom's injuries.
     "He's very close to the surface," he told her.  "I'd expect
him to wake up within the hour, and there's no sign of
infection."
     "Thank you, Doctor."
     "You're welcome," he replied.
     "I really mean that, you know," she added.  "I can never
repay you for saving his life.  You obviously know how close
we've become.  I don't think I could stand to lose him."
     The EMH smiled, more genuinely this time, but still the
tension lingered in his eyes.  "He said much the same thing to me
about you."
     "Oh?"
     "After we returned from our house call on that somewhat
demented isomorph.  You were unconscious when we beamed aboard. 
Tom was in a complete panic at first, but he pitched in to help
as I performed surgery to repair the damage to your heart.  He
wouldn't leave your side until you were awake and had obviously
recovered.  Then, a couple of days later, when he was on sickbay
duty again, he thanked me, much as you just did."
     "Mmmm," Tom groaned, and moved his head from side to side.
     "Tom?" B'Elanna called.  His head moved again and his
eyelids fluttered.  Slowly, they opened, closed, then opened
again.  B'Elanna squeezed his hand once more and he turned his
head in her direction.
     "B'Elanna?" he murmured.
     "Yeah, it's me."
     "W-what happened?  I...."  Suddenly his eyes flew open wide. 
"Doc!"  He started to look around frantically, "Where's...."  Then
his eyes fell on the doctor.
     "I'm right here, Tom," Doc assured him.
     "Are you okay?" he asked immediately.
     The doctor seemed surprised for a moment before answering,
"Yes, I'm quite functional."
     Tom closed his eyes and concentrated.  "Yes, now I remember. 
You said you were going to have to operate on me."
     "I did.  How do you feel?"
     The pilot thought for a second.  "Chest and side hurt a
little.  Not bad, though.  I feel pretty tired."
     "Undoubtedly," the doctor commented.  "How does it feel when
you breathe?"
     Tom took a deep breath and grimaced.  "Hurts a little, but
not like before."
     "If it becomes a problem, I'll give you something for it. 
But I'd rather not, unless necessary.  Natural breathing will
facilitate your recovery."
     Tom tried to move a little more and caught his breath at the
sharp pain from his chest.
     "On the other hand...."  The doctor started to reach for the
hypospray.
     "No," Tom shook his head.  "If I stay still, it's okay."
     "You should get some more rest," the doctor advised.  His
patient shook his head again.
     "No, I want to know what happened. 
Everything is a little sketchy."
     The doctor stiffened.  "I'm sure Lieutenant Torres will fill
you in.  I have some things in the lab that require my attention. 
Call me if you need me."  Without giving either of them time to
respond, he turned and walked out of the room.
     Tom watched him go, then turned to B'Elanna with a frown. 
"Something's not right."  It was a statement, not a question.
     "What do you remember about when you were attacked?" she
asked.
     Tom narrowed his eyes as he tried to pull his thoughts
together.  "I remember trying to talk to the big guy.  Tell him
we were only trying to help him.  But he couldn't understand me."
     "Your comm badge was knocked off when he first hit you," she
told him.
     "Ah, that explains it.  Anyway, he came up off the bed and
he seemed intent on grabbing Doc.  I jumped in front of him, I
just meant to block his way, but I guess I miscalculated and got
skewered!  Must've really ticked him off because he came back for
another jab.  I remember feeling this kind of tingling, burning
sensation that must have been the energy discharge from those
blades.  After that, things are pretty fuzzy.  I remember I
couldn't breathe and it hurt like hell.  I vaguely remember Doc
getting me on the bed, then he was talking to me, telling me he
was going to have to operate and that I'd be all right.  Then, I
don't remember anything else until I woke up."
     B'Elanna nodded.  "Do you remember the phaser beam hitting
the Odalatta in the head?"
     Tom concentrated, then shook his head.  "No.  Who fired the
phaser?"
     "The doctor."
     Tom processed this information.  "He must have got to the
one in the locker in his office."  B'Elanna nodded.  "So, he
saved my life."
     "Yes, he did."
     "But something is still upsetting him.  There's nothing you
two aren't telling me, is there?  I mean, I'm gonna be okay,
right?"
     B'Elanna's hand brushed back the hair from his forehead and
lingered there.  "You're going to be just fine."
     "Then....  Wait a minute.  What happened to the Odalatta?" 
He looked around the sickbay and saw no sign of the alien.
     "It seems, because of his previous injuries, even a stun
beam was too much for him.  He died."
     His eyes widened.  "Damn!"  He turned away for a moment,
then back toward Torres.  "And Doc is blaming himself, isn't he?" 
She nodded.
     "Damn!" he repeated.  "How bad is it?"
     "Pretty bad," she admitted.  "He believes he was responsible
for the whole incident."
     "What?!"
     "He said he wasn't paying attention.  The way he sees it, he
killed the Odalatta.  And he blames himself for you getting hurt. 
Now that you're going to be okay, I think he'll be able to get
through that part of it, but..."
     "His entire reason for being is to save lives, and now he
thinks he's a murderer," Tom reasoned.
     "That's about it."
     Tom closed his eyes, his free hand drifting up to his chest.
     "Tom?  Are you all right?" B'Elanna asked, suddenly
questioning the wisdom of telling him the whole story while he
was still so weak.
     "Yeah.  I just...  I need to talk to him, B'Elanna.  I gotta
make him understand..."
     "Tom, you're not up to it.  You need your rest."
     "I don't think I *can* rest until I try to get him to see
how wrong he is."
     "I shouldn't have told you," she voiced her concern.
     "Yes, you should have.  And if you hadn't, I would have been
imagining all kinds of nasty things.  Maybe, at least, this I can
do something about."
     "What can you say to him?"
     He shook his head.  "I don't know yet.  But I gotta try."
     "Are you sure you're up to it?"
     "I'm fine."  The answer came too quickly for her to believe
it, but she couldn't miss the determination in Tom's eyes. 
Arguing wouldn't change his mind, it would only serve to drain
him further, and he needed all his strength if he was going to
confront the doctor.
     "No, you're not," she told him.  "But I know better than to
argue with a stubborn mule!"
     "Mule?"  The corner of Tom's lips twitched.  "I thought I was
a pig."
     "You're both!"
     "Sounds like genetic experimentation gone mad."  His hand
tightened on hers.  "Could you tell him I want to talk to him?"
     "Will you never stop risking yourself for the people you
care about?"
     "Probably not," he admitted.  "But that's why you love me so
much."
     Her eyes locked with his.  "That's just one of the reasons."
     "Oh?  We'll have to spend some time exploring the others as
soon as I get out of here."
     "Don't worry," she grinned, "we will."  She leaned down and
touched her lips to his, and felt his hand move to the back of
her head, preventing her from moving away too quickly.  Gently,
she caught hold of the hand and pulled it away, freeing herself. 
"At least try to take it easy, okay?  I can't imagine what I'd do
without you."
     "It's not worth thinking about.  Don't worry.  We'll have
plenty of time for... exploring.  I promise."
     "And I'll hold you to that promise."  With that, she
carefully placed his hand back onto the bed and headed for the
lab.
     A few minutes later, the doctor appeared and moved quickly
to Tom's side, grabbing his tricorder.
     "B'Elanna said you needed me.  Has the pain worsened?"  He
glanced from Tom's face to the readout, but before he could
absorb the data displayed there, his patient's hand blocked his
view.  Tom pulled the instrument away from him and laid it beside
him on the bed.  The EMH stared at him, startled by his actions.
     "It's not *my* pain that's the problem, here, Doc."
     Tom could actually see the walls come up in the physician's
expression.  He wondered fleetingly if that's what others saw
when he put on his own mask of indifference.  No, he'd had more
practice at hiding his feelings than his friend had.
     "I see I was right.  Lieutenant Torres has brought you up to
date on the incident."
     "She told me what happened, yes."
     "I hope you'll understand that I'd rather not talk about
it."
     "I know that, but I think we *have* to talk about it, right
now, before this goes any further."
     Doc shook his head.  "I don't know what you mean."
     "I'm talking about this crazy notion you have about it
somehow being your fault that the Odalatta died."
     "I fired a phaser at the head of a man with a serious brain
injury.  That man died.  I was the cause of his death.  The facts
are not subject to interpretation and I don't believe it should
be of any concern to you."
     "Wrong," Tom stated flatly "on both counts.  You've put your
own spin on what happened and you're too stubborn to listen to
anyone else's view.  And it most certainly is my concern.  If you
hadn't fired that phaser, I wouldn't be alive.  That's a fact,
Doc.  He'd already got me twice with those blades.  He was about
to shove them right through my heart when you stopped him."
     "Please, don't misunderstand me.  The last thing I wanted
was for you to be injured, and you wouldn't have been if I hadn't
been... distracted."
     "And just what was distracting you, Doc?  As I recall, you
were doing everything you could to find out what was wrong with
him.  You were concentrating so hard on trying to help him that
you didn't see the danger until it was too late.  I'm just glad I
managed to stop him before he destroyed your matrix."
     "You almost got yourself killed *again* by doing so.  You
shouldn't have done it, Tom."
     "Okay, maybe I shouldn't.  Then you'd be gone, the Odalatta
would have almost certainly died of his injuries and he still
might have managed to kill me in the process.  If he hadn't, I'd
be left to live with the knowledge that I failed to save the life
of my friend.  You know, Doc?  You're right.  That sounds like a
much better outcome to me!"
     "You can't understand."
     "Tell me what I don't understand," Tom entreated.
     "The purpose of my existence is to *maintain* life. 
Instead, I have taken a life.  How can I..."
     "Live with yourself?" Tom asked gently.
     "Technically, I don't have a life to live.  And I'm not sure
I can justify my further existence.  What kind of a physician am
I?"
     "The best I've ever known," Tom replied immediately, but the
doctor shook his head.
     "I've killed a man," he said flatly.  "That makes me no
better than..."
     "Than any other person who has ever had to make that choice
to save someone's life.  Doc, it was self defense.  He would have
killed you"
     "I'm not alive, therefore I cannot be killed."
     "And he was about to kill me!  You did what you did to save
my life."
     "And you risked your own life to save mine, which, as I have
pointed out, was a senseless effort since I am not alive."
     Oh, no, Tom thought, I'm not letting you take us down that
road.  "You're just as real as anyone else on Voyager," he said
earnestly.  "You're one of us.  Aside from the captain, you're
the most important member of this crew.  Without you, how many
others, including me, would have died long ago?  Come to think of
it, you may be even more important than the captain," Tom smiled. 
"But don't tell her I said that."
     "I realize I have a certain value to the crew, much like any
piece of equipment, but..."
     "Stop it!" Tom yelled, and instantly brought his hand to his
chest as he gasped in pain.
     The doctor moved closer to his side.  "You're going to
reinjure yourself if you keep this up."
     "What do you care?" Tom responded hotly.  "My life and the
lives of this crew aren't enough to justify your existence,
right?  I guess I was wrong to think you'd value my opinion, that
you thought of me as a friend."
     "You *are* my friend," Doc said softly.
     "Then stop arguing with me!" Tom cried, stopping to catch
his breath before he could continue in a considerably quieter
tone.  "Just accept that to me, to a lot of us, you're much more
than another piece of equipment, a tool or even a highly
sophisticated computer program.  I'm not a Starfleet lawyer, so I
don't know the official criteria for being declared a sentient
life form, but you qualify by every standard I can think of. 
Long ago, you exceeded your programming.  You've learned and
you've grown more than anyone could have ever anticipated.  And
as far as I'm concerned, you're just another species on board
this ship, like Tuvok is Vulcan or B'Elanna is half-Klingon. 
What you are isn't important.  Who you are is.  And who you are
is my friend."
     "Then you should be more discriminating in your choice of
friends."
     Tom sighed.  "You know, if you really were just a
holographic program, you wouldn't be reacting this way.  Maybe
you've become too human.  You've learned to wallow in self-pity."
     The doctor's head jerked toward him in surprise.
     "I'm pretty familiar with that.  I spent a lot of time
wallowing in it after the accident on Caldik Prime.  Wallowed
myself right into the Maquis, then straight into prison.  And,
hey, I had a great reason, too.  You only killed one guy.  I
killed three.  And they weren't strangers; they were my friends."
     The doctor frowned.  "That's a very different situation."
     "Is it?"
     "You made a mistake."
     "It was called 'pilot error.'  You know, like I knew better,
but I did it anyway, and as a result, my friends died.  I think
that tops your being a little distracted, don't you?  So I
understand what it's like to drown yourself in guilt, Doc.  And I
can tell you, it isn't worth it.  Not to you or to anybody else. 
You end up hurting everyone who cares about you, but most of all,
you end up hurting yourself."
     "You've failed to recognize the most important distinction
between you and me.  You're human and..."
     "So are you!"
     He answered quietly in a tone heavy with regret.  "No, I'm
not."
     "Yes, you are, damn it!  In every way that counts.  You see
being human as being flesh and blood, but it's a lot more than
that.  Hell, you've got more humanity in you than half the people
I know!"
     The doctor shook his head.
     "You didn't intend to kill him, damn it!  You had no choice. 
If you hadn't fired that phaser, I'd be dead.  Maybe that would
have been the better outcome."
     "No!"
     "Then let go of it, Doc!  You did what you had to do to save
a life. *Save* a life.  And that life happened to be mine.  I
don't know if I deserved it more than the Odalatta.  But you
fired that phaser so I wouldn't die.  And now it's eating you up. 
Well, guess what, Doc?  That's a completely human reaction.  I
don't want to see you hurting like this because of me."
     Tom was encouraged by the fact that the doctor seemed to
really be listening and weighing his words.  When he spoke, his
tone remained quiet.  "You risked your life for me."
     "And you risked your sanity for me, didn't you?  I'd say
we're pretty even on this one.  Now, I only owe you for a couple
of dozen other times you've saved my butt!  And I'm not about to
forget it, or let you forget it either!"
     The doctor looked away and was silent for a long time.  Tom
held his breath as he waited for the reply.
     "Actually," Doc said slowly as he turned back to look at his
friend.  Folding his arms across his chest, he tilted his head
back just enough to look down his nose at Paris.  "Most of the
time it's been that concrete head of yours I've saved."
     A smile broke across Tom's face.
     "Now, I suggest you lie back and get some rest.  I want you
out of my sickbay as a patient and back as my assistant, however
feeble your efforts are in that capacity."
     "Yes, Doctor!" Tom replied as he finally allowed himself to
relax..
     "And, Tom?"
     "Yeah, Doc?"
     "Any humanity I may have managed to acquire is due entirely
to the efforts of my friends.  So when I act in an all-too-human
fashion, just remember, you bear your share of the blame."
     The pilot's smile grew wider.  "I'll remember that, Doc."
     The doctor turned to walk away.
     "Doc?"
     "Yes, Tom?"
     "What was it exactly that I said that got through to you? 
I'm just curious."
     "Nothing in particular.  Actually, I believe it was the
unmistakable evidence of your stubbornness.  That's a trait *I*
can understand."
     Tom remained serious.  "Really, Doc.  I want to know."
     The doctor sighed and walked back toward the biobed.  "When
you said I didn't value your opinion?"  Tom nodded.  "I
remembered what you said to me when Belle died.  You forced me to
face a pain I didn't think I could survive.  But you were right. 
I had to see the program through, no matter how difficult it was
to endure.  So I *do* value your opinion, Tom.  And the one point
I can't get past is that you risked your life to save me.  It
seems for some misguided reason you believe I was worth that
risk.  I suppose I owe it to you to justify your faith in my
value."
     Tom shook his head.  "You don't owe it to me, you owe it to
yourself.  It took me a while to learn that lesson, too.  You
have to recognize your own value."
     "Perhaps, but accepting that idea may take me a little more
time."
     "Okay, I can accept that.  Rome wasn't built in a day."
     Doc frowned.  "I fail to see what the construction schedule
of an Italian city has to do with the discussion at hand."
     Paris chuckled.  "Just an expression, Doc.  It means we have
plenty of time to get there.  This is still going to be hard for
you to deal with.  I know that.  But you can't use the 'I'm not
alive' excuse anymore.  It just won't wash."  Suddenly, all the
emotional exertion caught up with the pilot.  He didn't seem to
have the strength left to keep his eyes open, but he had one more
thing to say.  "When you need to talk about it, and you will,
don't forget you've got friends who will listen.  Not just me,
either.  I know for a fact, B'Elanna's quite fond of you."
     "I'll keep it in mind," he promised, unobtrusively slipping
the tricorder off the bed and training the scanner on Tom.  "But
when I do feel the need to talk, it won't be to someone who is
about to pass out on me.  You need to rest, Tom."
     "Okay," the helmsman agreed and let his eyes drift shut.  He
was asleep in seconds.
     The doctor finished his scans, then, satisfied that Tom
hadn't aggravated his injuries, he closed the instrument and
placed it on the tray.  When he turned, it was to find B'Elanna
standing just inside the sickbay door.  He frowned at her.
     "And just how long have you been standing there,
Lieutenant?"
     "Long enough," she replied, then walked up to him, stretched
up and planted a kiss on his cheek.  She moved to the side of the
bed and repeated the action with Tom.  She lingered a moment,
looking down at his peaceful face, then turned and walked
purposefully back toward the door.  "Goodnight, Doc," she called
as the doors opened for her to exit.
     "Goodnight, B'Elanna," he replied.  Then the doors closed
behind her.
     The doctor looked back over his shoulder at Paris, a smile
curling the corners of his mouth, then headed for his office. 
Perhaps he would take a few moments to improve his knowledge of
human colloquial expressions.
                               ***
     "Captain Janeway!" Deeta Quarlin's pudgy face filled the
bridge viewscreen.  "I have just finished reading your very
comprehensive report of the sad demise of the Odalatta crash
victim.  Your people did their best for him, I'm sure.  Of
course, they are such a unpredictable species, to be sure."
     Janeway planted her hands firmly on her hips and trained her
steely gaze directly at the officious little man.  "Let me get
straight to the point, Deeta Quarlin.  Four days ago, we
negotiated an exchange of supplies between this ship and your
government.  You received our shipment immediately.  Since then,
I have heard nothing from you but excuses and an endless series
of 'small' requests for assistance.  Well, we've done everything
in our power to provide that assistance.  In doing so, and
because of your failure to provide adequate information, two
members of my crew were very nearly killed.  I am not, by nature,
a patient woman and I'm in no mood for any more of your pleas or
excuses!  You *will* fulfill your part of our arrangement within
an hour and we will be on our way.  Otherwise, we will make a
point of dropping by to visit the Odalatta.  We have managed to
trace the path their ship took into your solar system and should
have no trouble following it.   *I'm sure* they'd be very
interested in learning about the crash of their ship and your
blatant disregard for their people.  *Of course,* I seriously
doubt you want an 'unpredictable species' like that coming to
investigate!"
     Quarlin's eyes had grown larger as Janeway spoke and his
hands were visibly shaking.  "C-Captain!  I'm sure, of course,
you don't mean that.  Our conversations have always been so
cordial."
     "I'm tired of being cordial!" Janeway responded.  "And you'd
be well advised to believe I am completely serious."
     "You'd threaten us?"
     "I just have.  I expect those supplies now, Quarlin, and, in
either event, this will be our last communication!  Have I made
myself clear?"
     "Of course, Captain, but..."
     "Janeway out!"  She gestured to Kim to cut the connection,
then turned to Chakotay.  "If we don't receive transporter
coordinates for those supplies in one hour, break orbit and head
for the planet Mr. Kim located."
     Chakotay smiled.  "Aye, Captain."
     She turned and headed for her ready room, stopping at the
door and looking back across the bridge.  "And if anyone says 'of
course' to me in the next twenty-four hours, his or her
replicator rations will be suspended for a week!"
     "Understood, Captain," Chakotay responded for them all.
     "Good."  She stepped off the bridge, the doors closing
behind her.
     "You think she meant it, Commander?" Harry asked quietly. 
"She'd actually go to the Odalatta and tell them what happened? 
Wouldn't that be considered a violation of the prime directive?"
     Chakotay regarded the young ensign for a moment, then smiled
knowingly and stepped to his chair and sat down.  His eyes turned
toward the ready room door, and he caught Tuvok's eye. The Vulcan
raised one eyebrow, and Chakotay's smile broadened.
     "Better plot that course, Mr. Kim."
                               ***
     Tom Paris stepped into sickbay to report for duty for the
first time since his release two days earlier.  His injuries were
completely healed and, after the enforced rest, he was anxious to
find anything to occupy his time.  B'Elanna and Harry had been
busy refitting ship's systems with the materials received from
the Dietcans and he had found himself bored to distraction.  And,
he had to admit, despite assurances from B'Elanna, who had made a
point to drop by and check on the doctor, he was still worried
about his friend.
     "Computer, activate..."
     "There's no need.  I'm already present," came a voice from
across the room.  Tom turned to see the doctor stepping out of
his office.
     "Hiya, Doc!" Tom grinned at him.  "I'm ready to come back to
work."
     "I'll be the judge of that," the doctor replied, pulling out
his tricorder as he approached the pilot.  Tom rolled his eyes.
     "Doc, you gave me a clean bill of health two days ago,
remember?"
     "That's two days out of my supervision.  There's no telling
what you've managed to do to yourself in that time."
     Tom chuckled and waited for him to finish the scan.
     "Do I pass inspection?" he asked as the doctor closed the
tricorder.
     "You appear to be quite fit."
     "Thanks to you," Tom replied and caught the pained
expression that ghosted across the EMH's features.
     "Well, I certainly don't have the time to train a new
assistant at the moment.  We have a lot of work to do."
     Tom frowned and looked around sickbay.  "Work?  There's no
one here."
     "Obviously," the doctor replied.  "But the medical stores
need to be inventoried and the depleted supplies replicated, the
equipment cabinets are in a state of disorganization and there
are lab tests on several crew physicals to be completed."
     "Uh, today?"
     "Today."
     Tom sighed.  "Yes, doctor."  He started toward the cabinets.
     "By the way, I don't suppose you know what happened to my
Blazec imager?"
     Tom slowly turned back to face him.  "Well..."
     "Yes, Mr. Paris?"
     "I sort of dropped it, when... you know."
     "You dropped it."
     "Uh, huh."
     "And it was no doubt destroyed."
     "Well, I do seem to remember a loud crash."
     "I see."  He pondered a moment.  "Very well."
     Tom stared at him.  "You aren't going to yell at me about
destroying an irreplaceable piece of equipment?"
     "Of course not.  Yelling won't replace the imager, will it?"
     "I guess not."
     "And I can certainly understand the reason why you dropped
it.  I'm not an unforgiving man, Mr. Paris."
     "Of course not, Doc."
     "I like to think I'm sensitive to the feelings of those
around me.  You are, after all only human."
     "Yes, that's true," Tom conceded.  "But are you sure you
wouldn't like to yell at me, just a little?"
     "I don't think that will be necessary."
     His eyes narrowed as he studied the doctor a moment.  "Okay,
Doc, if that's how you feel.  Thanks."  He was about to head for
the equipment cabinets again when the doctor's voice stopped him.
     "I'm sure the cost of the imager can't be more than, oh, say
a month's replicator rations."
     "A month's rations?!"
     "That sounds fair to me."
     "Doc!  I thought you were my friend!"
     The doctor put his hand to his chest in dramatic fashion. 
"Lieutenant Paris, you wound me.  Are you suggesting that, as
your friend, I should allow you to evade your responsibilities? 
Would you take advantage of my kindly nature by calling into
question our friendship?"
     Tom stared at him, his mouth falling open.  "Your  kindly
nature'?  Since when?"
     "That's a cruel remark!  Do you think I have no feelings? 
If you cut me, do I not bleed?"
     Tom pursed his lips a moment.  "As a matter of fact, no, you
don't."
     "Well, you're the one who insisted I possessed humanity."
     Tom grinned.  "I was wrong!"
     The doctor smiled in return.  "Good, now that that's
settled..."
     "Wait a minute.  Nothing's been settled."
     "To work, Mr. Paris."
     Tom opened his mouth to respond, then thought the better of
it and sighed.  "Okay, you win.  This time."
     The doctor's smile broadened and he bounced on his toes in
victory.
     A twinkle lit Tom's eye as he added, "But there's always
next time."
     "Actually, I look forward to it."  He turned and headed
toward his office.
     Tom watched him go, smiling after him warmly.
     "So do I, Doc.  So do I."

***********************************************
*From the Hippocratic Oath, spoken by the doctor at the end of
the episode, "Darkling."