“Seven of Nine and Captain Janeway experienced it, and the Borg queen thought it a significant enough threat to warrant killing countless drones in order to destroy it,” the Doctor replied.
“Yes, I’ve read the reports,” Glenn said. “But I still don’t understand how it was created.”
“A random mutation,” the Doctor said, “shared by one in a million drones.”
“And every time they regenerated, they entered this beautiful, peaceful landscape and lived as individuals?”
“So the story went,” the Doctor said.
“When they returned to consciousness, they were simply drones again, with no memory of Unimatrix Zero.”
“Until we came along,” the Doctor noted wryly.
“And destroyed their paradise,” Glenn said. “That was thoughtful of you,” she teased.
“The Borg queen really didn’t leave us much of a choice.” The Doctor shrugged. “It’s telling, isn’t it? The existence of Unimatrix Zero cost her nothing. But she still could not allow the drones a moment’s freedom from the Collective.”
“It made them less perfect,” Glenn suggested.
“It made them less Borg,” the Doctor corrected her. “But by forcing the issue, the queen’s worst fear was realized.”
“Unimatrix Zero was destroyed, but the drones containing the mutation were given the ability to experience their individuality while still being Borg,” Glenn said. Glancing out the transparent window separating the Doctor’s office from the sickbay, she sighed as she considered Axum. “Looking at him now, do you think it did more harm than good?”
“We gave those Borg a fighting chance to mount a resistance from within the Collective,” the Doctor replied flatly.
“One or two at the most, on any given Borg vessel?” Glenn countered. “What resistance could they have offered, so hopelessly outnumbered?”
“One of them, a Klingon, took control of his vessel and helped Voyager rescue our lost away team during the conflict. If the reports of first contact with the Caeliar are accurate, it seems that much of the credit for the Borg’s ultimate transformation is due to Captain Erika Hernandez. I wouldn’t underestimate the power of one, even against the Borg,” the Doctor replied.
“Seven’s report indicated that Axum was located on a ship in the Beta Quadrant,” Glenn said.
The Doctor nodded. “Which makes his presence here less of a mystery. Obviously he escaped his vessel, probably just prior to the Caeliar transformation.”
“But why did he . . . ?” Glenn began, but paused, as if unable to speak of the horrors he had inflicted upon himself.
“I don’t know,” the Doctor replied gently. “But soon enough, we’ll have the opportunity to ask him.”
“Seven described him as a leader in Unimatrix Zero. She said that they developed a personal connection. Do you think it was more than that?” Glenn asked.
“I don’t know,” the Doctor replied. “To be honest, I have no idea what qualities in any individual Seven might find attractive. Her personal life is not my concern.”
A puzzled glance flickered across Glenn’s face, but before the Doctor could question her further, they were interrupted by the entrance of Doctor Mai. She was followed by a human man, likely in his eighth decade of life, and a much younger Trill female who wore the uniform of a Starfleet doctor.
“Has there been any change in the patient since your last report, Doctor?” Mai asked. That musical quality to her voice the Doctor had initially found pleasant had soured.
“Had there been, I would have advised you at once,” the Doctor replied. Rising from his desk, he added, “Who are your companions?”
“Allow me to introduce Doctor Greer Everett, a fellow at the Federation Institute of Health, and Doctor Pauline Frist, Starfleet Medical,” Mai replied.
Hands were shaken all around before the Doctor said, “You’ve both come a long way. How can we be of assistance to you?”
“Turn over all of your research into the Caeliar catoms, including the work you have done on Seven of Nine,” Everett replied. “Doctor Frist and I will require a briefing as soon as possible on Seven’s case in particular.”
“Seven of Nine is my patient,” the Doctor said, unfazed. “All of her records are protected by doctor/patient confidentiality.” As he said these words, he caught Commander Glenn’s response out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were wide, and she was shaking her head back and forth almost too subtly to be noticed.
Doctor Frist immediately offered a padd to the Doctor, saying, “Here you will find direct orders from your superior officer, the chief of Starfleet Medical, to comply with all of our requests, Doctor.”
“My commanding officer is Commander Glenn,” the Doctor said, nodding toward her, “currently assigned to Project Full Circle. In the absence of a fleet commander, she takes her orders from Admiral Kenneth Montgomery, who is supervised by Admiral Leonard James Akaar,” the Doctor replied. “Are their names appended to that request, Doctor Frist?”
“Starfleet Medical’s authority in this case supersedes theirs, Doctor,” Frist replied evenly. “Your position as a chief medical officer also obligates you to follow Starfleet Medical’s orders when you receive them, even if they directly contradict the standing orders of your superiors at Starfleet Command.”
“And the Federation Institute of Health?” the Doctor asked. “That’s a civilian authority.”
“Our charter from the Federation Council gives us wide latitude when the public health is threatened,” Everett replied. “We are collaborating with Starfleet Medical with the assent of the Federation Council and the office of the President of the Federation.”
Momentarily dumbstruck, the Doctor could not immediately locate a loophole.
“Excuse me, I need to verify these orders and your authority,” the Doctor said. “In the interim, Commander Glenn can brief you on our patient’s progress.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Frist said, clearly certain that he would come to his senses soon enough and grant their request.
For his part, the Doctor had absolutely no intention of ever complying.
SAN FRANCISCO
Admiral Kathryn Janeway knew immediately that something was wrong. An emergency hail from Starbase 185 had awakened her in the middle of the night.
“Doctor?” she asked.
“Can Starfleet Medical order me to provide all of Seven of Nine’s personal medical records to them, even those that she specifically requested that I classify?” he demanded.
Janeway paused to consider the question. Finally she replied, simply, “Yes.”
“But,” the Doctor immediately objected.
“Under certain circumstances they have the authority to suspend doctor/patient confidentiality,” she clarified.
“What about the Federation Institute of Health?”
This question raised further alarms and opened several new avenues of internal inquiries to her, but Janeway replied, “Depends on who is asking.”
The Doctor took a few moments to read the orders in their entirety. Once he finished, Janeway was certain of one thing: this was not a casual inquiry. Someone very highly placed had a question or a problem and information only the Doctor could now provide was essential to his or her work.
“In this case, yes,” Janeway confirmed.
“But Seven isn’t even a Starfleet officer!” the Doctor shouted on a whisper.
“They’re in the next room, aren’t they?” Janeway realized.
The Doctor nodded, then continued with more composure, “Seven never wanted to become an object of study. She has given me permission to share my work on her catoms with only a select group of people she trusts. I cannot betray her confidence.”
Janeway’s response was measured. “Seven is a citizen of the Federation. Her request for confidentiality bars you from sharing her personal information with anyone except your superior medical officers. They, at their discretion, are also obligated to share that informati
on with Federation civilian authorities. But, Doctor, Seven is well aware of this. Granted, she probably did not foresee these developments, but she cannot fault you for following the orders you have been given by a rightful authority.”
“I won’t do it,” the Doctor insisted. “I can deactivate my program at will.”
“You’re willing to die over this?” Janeway asked, incredulous.
The Doctor wavered. “I could deactivate myself until they realize I won’t comply,” he suggested. “An act of conscientious objection.”
“The moment you reactivate your program, you will be subject to a court martial,” Janeway advised.
“I never asked to join Starfleet,” the Doctor said. “I never had a choice. I could resign my commission.”
“Then you’ll likely face charges from the civilian authorities for willful obstruction of an investigation,” Janeway countered. “Not to mention showing a most callous disregard for the organization under whose guidance you were created and have for so many years thrived.”
“Do you honestly think I should do this?” the Doctor asked, exasperated. “Do you care so little for Seven’s privacy?”
“Please, don’t be ridiculous,” Janeway replied. “Doctor, Starfleet Medical is not your enemy. This isn’t someone’s idle curiosity you’re being asked to satisfy. Nothing crosses the desks of the officers who wrote those orders that doesn’t have severe and possibly devastating implications for the entire Federation. This isn’t about Seven. Something else is going on. I am certain that were she available to provide the information herself, or to release you from your obligation to protect her, she would do so without hesitation.” After a moment’s pause to let this sink in, she asked, “What happened out there? Who was the patient they wanted you to treat?”
“Another Borg drone transformed by the Caeliar but who clearly wished to remain outside the gestalt,” the Doctor replied, “and an old acquaintance, unless I’m mistaken.”
“Who?”
“Axum.”
Janeway searched her memory until the realization hit her. “Seven’s Axum? The man I met in Unimatrix Zero?”
“Unless the Borg had more than one drone designated as Five of Twelve, Secondary Adjunct of Trimatrix Nine Four Two,” the Doctor replied.
“Does he remember us?”
“He’s not conscious. His injuries were extensive, and he is only now showing signs that he will recover. But I’ll ask him as soon as I have the chance. Shall I pass along your regards?”
Janeway nodded through a withering glare. “Please do. Follow the orders you have been given, Doctor. If Seven objects, I’ll talk to her.”
“She’s not going to blame you, Admiral.”
“She’s not going to blame you either, Doctor. Keep me advised. Update me as soon as you know more.”
Reluctantly, the Doctor nodded, then ended transmission.
Janeway struggled to put together the puzzle, but she was missing too many of the relevant pieces. She understood the Doctor’s reluctance. But she also knew that to fight this was to court damnation in the eyes of her superiors. The case was cut and dried. There was no room to question or refuse. This wasn’t an illegal order. There were better ways to handle this than forcing a doctor to break his patient’s confidentiality. Many would have hated the idea as passionately as the Doctor did, but the law was clear on the subject. The only challenge was geography. Had Seven been in the Alpha or Beta Quadrant now, she could have been called in for an evaluation that would likely have revealed all the Doctor was about to tell them. In her absence, his records would have to suffice.
For now.
The list of things Janeway was worried about had just grown longer.
GALEN
The Doctor took a few minutes more to consider his options. Unless they accessed his matrix directly, which he did not put past them, they could not read all of the records he possessed about Seven. Until they were willing to provide him with more data as to why this breach of her privacy was necessary, he could withhold whatever data he chose. Of course, Axum’s recovery would belie his feigned ignorance.
Harder to pinpoint was the source of his discomfort with these orders. Seven was a colleague as well as a patient. They had known each other for much of the Doctor’s existence, but he believed his reticence to disclose what was being requested would have been as firm were the subject any of his current or past patients. It was the principle that troubled him.
Wasn’t it?
Each time he dug into his long-term memory files for a more vivid reason to refuse the order, intense waves of comfort washed through him. The effect was almost what he imagined narcotics might temporarily provide to organic beings.
He had not resolved the dilemma when Glenn called to him.
Hurrying to the sickbay, he saw her standing beside Axum. He was clearly stirring, and the upper portion of the bed had been slightly elevated so that he might rest in greater comfort while still communicating with some ease.
Doctors Mai, Everett, and Frist were keeping their distance. The Doctor saw fear on their faces directed toward Axum, a clear indication of how parochial their thinking was.
The Doctor moved briskly past them to Axum’s side. He immediately checked his vitals, and when he saw nothing troubling, glanced at Glenn. She was studying Axum’s face intently, and the Doctor noted that she had taken what remained of his left hand in hers, clearly hoping to comfort him with the simple power of touch.
Finally, Axum opened his eyes, fearful, but still too weak to act on that fear. Only once his gaze settled on Glenn did he seem to relax.
A sound croaked from his lips. The second time he made the attempt, the word was clearer.
“Annika?” he asked.
It was the first time the Doctor had noted any physical resemblance between Glenn and Seven. Both were graced with pale skin, pleasing physical features, and long blond hair, though Glenn’s had more red in it. He would never have confused the two. Obviously this was wishful thinking on Axum’s part.
“No,” Glenn replied kindly. “I am Commander Clarissa Glenn of the Federation Starship Galen. Are you Axum?”
Eyes that had been filled with hope were suddenly brimming with tears. Axum’s face contorted with pain as he closed them, nodding affirmatively.
“You are safe here,” Glenn continued. “You suffered great physical trauma, but the worst of your injuries has been healed. We want to help you.”
“Help? Me?” Axum said bitterly. “I don’t want help. I want to die in peace. Why will none of you allow me to die?”
“Please,” Glenn continued, her voice like warm silver, “we believe we know some of what happened to you. You were Borg?”
“An abomination.”
“A victim,” she countered kindly. “You were one of the few who regularly accessed a place called Unimatrix Zero?”
Axum nodded, but he now seemed almost as interested as confused. “Were you there, too?” he asked.
“No, but we know Seven of Nine, Annika,” she corrected herself quickly. “We know she knew you there. We know that once it was destroyed, you retained memory of your individuality while still a drone.”
“It made no sense,” he cried out in desperation.
“You escaped?” she asked.
Axum’s eyes grew suddenly cold. “I tried to hide. They attacked me. I defended myself. I was not one of them. But I could still hear them.”
“You did what anyone else in your place would have,” Glenn insisted. “You survived, that’s the important thing.”
“But Annika didn’t,” he said.
“Yes, she did,” Glenn said. “She is a member of our fleet, though our ships are temporarily separated.”
“I thought she was dead. There was a moment after I escaped when I could see, could feel, all of them. I wasn’t afraid. But she wasn’t there. Why wasn’t she there if she wasn’t dead?” he demanded.
“That moment was one of transformation,” Glenn expla
ined. “The Borg was unintentionally spawned by the Caeliar. The Borg, as you knew them, was absorbed by the Caeliar gestalt several months ago. But some, like Seven, chose to remain outside that community. You made the same choice?”
“If she wasn’t there, I wasn’t going,” Axum replied simply. “Please, please take me to her,” he asked, his anxiety increasing.
“We will,” the Doctor said, stepping in. “I promise you, we will. For now, you need to rest.” The Doctor quickly retrieved a hypospray and injected it into Axum’s neck. Within moments he had relaxed into unconscious release. Facing Glenn, the Doctor added, “You did well, but I don’t know how much information we should force on him right now.”
She nodded wistfully. “You’re right. He’s going to need more than us soon. We need a trained counselor to help him come to grips with all of this.”
“You’ll do in a pinch, Commander,” the Doctor assured her.
“You shouldn’t have lied to him,” Doctor Mai spoke up, now daring to step a little closer.
“Lied?”
“This man will not be returning with you to the Delta Quadrant, now or ever,” she insisted.
“It is my belief that seeing Seven of Nine and communicating directly with her will be critical to his recovery,” the Doctor said. “You want him restored to full health? There’s only one way to do that. And he’s hardly our prisoner. Is he?”
“We’ll leave his ultimate dispensation to higher authorities, but for now, he is a former enemy combatant whom we have taken into custody,” Doctor Frist replied. “Now, without further ado, Doctor, you owe us a briefing.”
The Doctor could not help but continue to struggle with the warring directives within him. He was programmed to follow orders. But he also understood that by following them, he was betraying something essential that existed beyond the parameters of his matrix.
The problem was, he could not name that essential thing.
Chapter Thirteen
THE ARK PLANET
“What the hell are those?” Tom Paris asked softly.
Star Trek: Voyager - 042 - Protectors Page 17