Home > Star Trek: Voyager

Life Line

Shuttlecraft Dawkins to Jupiter Station.

WOMAN: Go ahead.

Uh, this is Lieutenant Reginald Barclay requesting permission to dock.

Granted.

( door chimes )

MAN: What? What is it?

It's me, sir, Reg Barclay.

Come in.

Dr. Z.?

How are you?

Nice of you to finally drop by.

I've been extremely busy-- the, uh, P-Pathfinder Project.

You're still searching for that ship?

What's it called... Pioneer?

Uh, Voyager.

Voyager. Any luck?

Actually, uh, we're on the verge of a breakthrough-- uh, a communications link.

Congratulations. The first transgalactic phone call.

Is there any word from Starfleet Medical?

Oh, doctors.

I've been scanned and probed a hundred times, and they still can't tell me what's wrong.

I'm sure it's only a matter of time.

I'm dying, Reginald, and there's nothing anybody can do about it.

( clicking and beeping )

( console beeping )

Seven of Nine to the Bridge.

JANEWAY: Go ahead.

We're receiving a transmission from Starfleet.

Route it here.

It's not a com-link, Captain-- it appears to be a compressed data stream... badly degraded.

On my way.

They say good things come in small packages.

This is all the data they could send us... until next month.

Next month?

They're using a cyclic pulsar to amplify signals from the MIDAS array,

but the cycle only peaks every 32 days.

So once a month, we'll be able to receive a short burst of information, and we'll have about 17 hours to respond.

So far, we've gotten tactical updates, letters from home, and news about the Alpha Quadrant.

I don't suppose they found us a shortcut home?

It doesn't look that way.

We don't have much time to prepare a response, and we'll have to keep it short, but I want to give everyone an opportunity to send something... even if it's only a brief note.

Inform the crew.

Yes, ma'am. KIM: Aye, Captain.

Lieutenant Barclay, the Pathfinder Project... they didn't give up on us.

So when you write those letters, you might want to thank them.

Mail call.

A letter? For me?

Oh, it's from Lieutenant Barclay.

Bad news?

Lewis Zimmerman. Apparently, he's seriously ill.

Zimmerman? He's the father of modern holography.

He invented the matrix that made my program possible.

Oh. What's wrong with him?

He's suffering from acute subcellular degradation.

"The doctors here are having trouble finding the cause,

"much less the treatment.

"I've included his medical files.

"As you'll see, the prognosis isn't good.

"They say he's only got a few months.

"I'm sorry I don't have better news to report, but I thought you'd want to know."

How well did you know him?

I've never met the man.

If you'd like to send a response, the captain will need it by 1900 hours.

Here's the information you requested.

Thank you.

You're reviewing his medical data.

I thought I could send Starfleet a second opinion.

It's a long shot, but maybe my experiences in the Delta Quadrant could provide some insights.

I was hoping these Borg regeneration techniques might help them develop a treatment for his condition.

You bear a striking resemblance.

He used his own physical parameters as a model for my matrix.

Can't say I blame him.

A doctor needs to inspire confidence in his patients.

Compassionate eyes and a strong chin can go a long way.

( sighs )

DOCTOR: I believe I can help him, Captain.

How? You remember the Vidiians?

The early stages of the phage are very similar to Dr. Zimmerman's disease.

I believe I can adapt a variety of Borg regeneration techniques to arrest the cell damage, maybe even reverse it.

Make sure to pass along your findings.

Thank you, Doctor.

Actually... I was hoping to administer the treatment myself.

What are you suggesting?

I'd like you to send my program back to the Alpha Quadrant.

None of the doctors at Starfleet are familiar with these techniques.

It would take them months to fully understand them, much less put them to use.

Even if we could send you, you're needed here.

Mr. Paris can take over Sick Bay.

He's more than capable.

We've done this once before. There weren't any problems.

Three years ago... and we used alien technology.

I've spoken to Seven of Nine.

She believes we can compress my program.

There's limited space in the data stream.

If we send you, there won't be room for anything else.

I realize I'd be asking the crew to make a sacrifice on my behalf, but they can wait another month.

Dr. Zimmerman might not have that time.

I'm sorry he's not doing well.

Unusual man. I met him once at a conference.

Managed to offend just about everyone there, but he was certainly brilliant.

I'm sure Starfleet is consulting their best physicians, Doctor.

They are, but no one's been able to develop a cure.

I have, but I can't treat a patient who's 30,000 light-years away.

I'm sorry. Captain...

This is the first time we're attempting to send a response.

We don't know if it'll even get through.

I'm willing to take that risk.

I'm not.

He programmed me-- every algorithm, every subroutine.

If it weren't for his years of work,

I wouldn't be standing here.

I owe him something... and frankly, so does this crew.

In a way, he's responsible for every life I've saved.

Lewis Zimmerman designed the template for Starfleet's EMH.

You're one of thousands based on that technology.

It's not as though he's your father.

From your perspective.

From mine, he's the closest thing I've got.

If I don't try to help him now, I may never get the chance.

You'll have to find a way to convince Tom to take those duty shifts.

He's already agreed.

Tell him "Captain Jane" said hello.

That's what he kept calling me at the conference.

I think he did it just to get on my nerves.

I've heard he can be... difficult.

I certainly hope you get a chance to find out.

Thank you, Captain.

( Doctor humming melody )

♪ Oh... ♪

( singing fritzes, then stops)

( no sound )

My vocal processor...

It's not a malfunction.

I've removed your singing algorithms.

They'll be stored in the memory buffer until you return.

Why?

Your program's too large for the data stream.

I have to extract all nonessential subroutines.

They're essential to me.

They're part of who I am.

Are you planning on performing opera during your visit?

No. Will you be reciting poetry?

Doubtful.

Hoverball? Holo-photography?

I may want to take a few snapshots to document my trip.

Sexual activities?

I get the point.

How much has to be left behind?

12 megaquads. Hmm.

I suppose you could get rid of my athletic abilities... and my grand master chess program.

That leaves three megaquads.

Your painting skills?

Oh...

If you must.

Try to leave a few of my enhancements intact.

I don't want to look like every other EMH on the block.

I think Dr. Zimmerman will be very interested to see what I've learned.

He probably never imagined what one of his own creations could accomplish.

I could spark a whole new field in holographic research.

Bon voyage.

See you in a month.

Don't get lost.

FEMALE: If I've told you once,

I've told you a thousand times-- stay off the food.

ZIMMERMAN: Haley?

Haley, what's the status of my lunch?

It's coming, Doctor.

As if things weren't bad enough, now I'm dying of starvation.

( sighs ) ( fly buzzing )

( door chimes )

Come in.

Haley...

Mr. Barclay, is something wrong?

No, no, it's just the opposite. Is he in?

He's not taking visitors today.

Tell him this is important.

He's in a prickly mood.

Oh. I brought something with me that might cheer him up.

Computer, is the download complete?

Affirmative.

Lunch.

( sniffing )

That's not pork chops.

It's salad. I didn't ask for salad.

It's healthy. I'm dying.

A piece of meat won't kill me any quicker.

Give the plants to Leonard.

He's the one trying to watch his weight.

Lieutenant Barclay is here to see you.

I told you I wasn't...

He says it's urgent.

Can't it wait till I'm dead?

All right, send him in.

Three minutes-- he's got three minutes.

Be civil to him, Lewis.

He's worried about you.

We all are.

I found a friend waiting for me at home.

You don't have any friends.

Well, I guess, uh, you could say he's a friend of yours.

Please state the nature of the medical emergency.

An EMH Mark-1?

I'm not in the mood for nostalgia, Reginald.

But this is the Mark-1 from Voyager.

DOCTOR: I was compressed into a data stream and transmitted from the Delta Quadrant.

Congratulations.

I recommend a tour of Jupiter's third moon.

I hear the lava flows are lovely this time of year.

I'm not here for a vacation.

I'm here to treat your illness.

You brought a Mark-1

30,000 light-years to treat me?

I was wrong about you, Reginald-- you do have a sense of humor.

( sighs )

Care to let me in on the joke?

You didn't tell him?

Tell me what?

Well, I-I...

You're obsolete, extinct, yesterday's news.

My program was retired?

Retired? Not at all.

The EMH Mark-1 was reconfigured to scrub plasma conduits on waste-transfer barges!

I've been treated by the Mark-3, the Mark-4, not to mention the finest real doctors in Starfleet.

None of them could help me!

He has been running almost continuously for six years.

( sighs ) He has seen more things than most doctors could even imagine.

I also have an exceptionally high tolerance for difficult patients.

I didn't program you for sarcasm.

You'll find I'm full of surprises.

Show the good Doctor to the plasma generator.

I understand there's quite a buildup of residue.

If we had more time, I'd enjoy trading barbs with you, but right now, there's a more pressing concern-- your life.

I'm working on a treatment based on a disease I encountered in the Delta Quadrant, but I'll need to run a complete analysis.

However, if it's impossible for you to believe that a lowly Mark-1 could have anything useful to offer,

I'll be happy to pack my bags and go explore those sulfur mines.

Go ahead... scan away.

I'll be outside.

What were your initial symptoms?

Radical hair loss.

Fatigue, nausea, joint inflammation.

Have you traveled outside the solar system recently?

What's that got to do with anything?

Just answer the question.

( sighs ) I haven't left Jupiter Station in over four years.

To your knowledge, have you been exposed to theta-radiation?

No.

Neutron flux? Never.

Have you had intimate relations with a Bolian?

These are questions first-year medical students would ask.

I'm just being thorough.

( low voice ): Just being thorough.

Did that creature just speak?

His name's Leonard. He's a hologram.

( sighs ): Computer, deactivate iguana.

How dare you!

I'm a doctor, not a zoo keeper.

Has there ever been an epidemic on this station?

No! Enough questions!

Finish your scans and get out of here!

Doctor... I said get out of here!

I traveled halfway across the galaxy to treat you.

The least you could do is show a little gratitude.

Thank you. Get out of here!

I may be the only physician who can save your life-- you need me.

Like hell.

I brought your matrix into this world, and I can take it out!

I'm no longer a prototype.

I have exceeded my original programming.

I'm no longer under your control.

Oh, really? Computer, transfer EMH to the living quarters.

How did it go?

Power up the MIDAS array-- I'm leaving!

What... what happened this time?

I ran a mitochondrial scan.

There was something odd about the results, so I spent a full hour analyzing them, and what did I discover?

He's a Vulcan marsupial.

He reconfigured my tricorder!

( chuckles ) You find that amusing?

A little... well, not really.

Sounds like you're making progress.

How so?

He only teases people he likes.

Then he must love me.

I take it that you, um, still haven't been able to diagnose him.

Oh, on the contrary. The patient appears to be suffering from an acute case of arrogance!

( fly buzzing )

Oh, that's Roy.

Don't tell me-- a hologram?

It was commissioned by Starfleet Intelligence, uh, an experiment in micro-surveillance.

Dr. Z. keeps it around as a sort of... a pet.

Undercover insects?

Talking iguanas?

This isn't a research station. ( fly buzzing )

It's a three... ring... circus.

You should charge admission.

Look... look, you know that we can't send you back for another two weeks, so please, just... just... keep trying.

I can't treat a patient who won't let me near him.

He's deranged. What he needs is a counselor.

( fly buzzing )

( fly stops buzzing )

Finally...

I've accomplished something.

I thought you might be able to provide some, uh, insight.

It's not that simple, Reg.

Dr. Zimmerman sounds like a very complex individual.

I'd need to speak to him in person.

Then maybe I could get him to agree to a counseling session.

The Enterprise is in the middle of a mission.

We're nearly seven light-years from you.

An important mission?

They're all important, Reg.

I could refer you to Counselor Jenzo, a colleague of mine on Earth.

I need the best, Deanna.

It would be an interesting challenge.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Don't thank me yet. I'll still need to clear this with Captain Picard.

If he agrees, I might be able to be there by early next week.

I'll see you then.

( door chimes )

Come in.

Good morning.

Mm-hmm.

Problem?

I haven't decided.

I've just listened to a communiqué from Admiral Hayes.

Nice to have friends in high places.

HAYES: Hello, Captain.

I hope this message finds you well.

From what I understand, it has not been easy, but I want you to know that a lot of people here are very proud of what you've accomplished.

I also want to assure you that we have not given up finding a way to get you home.

We've redirected two deep space vessels toward your position.

If all goes well, they could rendezvous with you in the next five to six years.

Computer... advance to time index 121.4.

...as we get closer and our conversations become more frequent.

When you respond to this message, please let us know of any casualties.

I'm sure you've had more than your share.

I'm anxious to know the status of your crew, the Maquis, first contacts that you've made, interactions with the Borg.

But there'll be time for everything.

Our thoughts are with you.

Talk to you soon.

What?

"Status of the Maquis."

Do you find that surprising?

I don't think of you or B'Elanna or the others as Maquis.

I think of you as part of my crew.

You may have forgotten, but we haven't.

You heard the Admiral. It'll be years before we have to deal with those issues.

Let's worry about it then.

Do you have lunch plans?

Is that an invitation?

I was hoping you'd help me compose a response.

You're on.

Doctor, your lunch is ready.

( Zimmerman groaning over intercom )

Are you all right?

Fine, Haley, fine.

Give me a few minutes.

( sighs )

Lower.

Ah... perfect.

I needed this.

You have no idea what I've had to endure these past few days.

Last night... I woke up, and I found him hovering over my bed with a hypospray.

A smattering of photons, that's all he is.

What's that?

What is that? A tricorder?

You were scanning me?

Computer... realign Voyager's EMH.

You! Remain calm.

Emotional outbursts will only aggravate your condition.

I'll tell you what's aggravating my condition-- you!

If you'd let me examine you...

I'll report you to the Medical Ethics Board.

Doctor... Save it for your hearing!

If you weren't so stubborn, you'd see I'm only trying to help.

I don't want your help. Why won't you leave me alone?!

Because, for reasons beyond my comprehension,

I care about you.

You weren't programmed to care.

You were programmed to hold a scalpel.

I told you I'm not the same EMH you created six years ago.

Of course-- you can sing and dance.

I should install you in a Ferengi nightclub.

The Voyager crew appreciates my attempts to expand my program.

This isn't Voyager. It's my lab, and in my lab, you're still just a hologram!

A hologram you created.

A hologram who owes you his existence.

Is that what's keeping you here?

Some twisted sense of obligation?

Well, let me assure you, you don't owe me anything.

HALEY ( over com ): Doctor?

Yes, Haley, what is it?

You have a visitor.

Hello, I'm Deanna Troi.

Which one of you is Dr. Zimmerman?

Deanna Troi.

Another one of your tricks?

Excuse me?

Ow! He thinks you're a hologram.

I can assure you I'm quite real.

Oh, well, the last beautiful woman to walk in here turned out to be him.

I'll take that as a compliment.

Hmm.

Did I come at a bad time?

Your timing couldn't be better.

The patient is suffering from acute anxiety, normally associated with terminal illness.

It's made him agoraphobic, paranoid, and extremely antagonistic.

I see.

Mind if I sit down?

Please.

Reg tells me you won't let the Doctor help you.

He's a Mark-1. He's obsolete.

I'd be safer in the hands of a Klingon field medic.

I understand he's developed a promising treatment.

If you're a Borg drone. He's threatening to use some kind of ghoulish assimilation technique.

It's not fit for a lab rat.

You won't even look at my research.

From the moment I arrived, you've berated me, treated me like an antique.

Well, let me tell you something-- antique or not, I took a huge risk coming here.

I had to plead with my Captain... leave my ship without a surgeon.

Doctor, imagine that your program was seriously damaged, and the only person who could repair you was an engineer from, say... a hundred years ago.

Would you feel comfortable with that?

If he were skilled, intelligent, creative.

Honestly, Doctor?

A hundred years ago?

Well, I suppose it would give me pause.

Ha!

Now, put yourself in the Doctor's shoes.

Imagine you were asked to treat someone you cared about-- say, an EMH Mark-12.

There is no Mark-12. But if there were, and you wanted to save his program, he probably wouldn't let you near him.

He wouldn't care that you'd won the Daystrom Prize for holography.

From his perspective, you'd be out of date.

But what if you knew you could save him?

( sighs )

Thank you, Counselor, for extending that olive branch.

I'm willing to see past our differences, if he is.

( sighs )

All right.

He can start by purging the plasma conduits on Deck 6.

Dr. Zimmerman... I will not put my life in the hands of a primitive.

You'd need a phaser drill to get through that thick skull of his!

Get out! Gentlemen...

Oh, spare us your psychobabble.

I came here thinking that you were opposite sides of the same coin-- identical, but different.

Now I see you're both exactly the same.

You're both jerks.

LEONARD: Jerks.

I'm starting to think you called the wrong Counselor, Reg.

Oh, you'll figure something out. You always do.

( sighs ): Things are worse now than when I arrived.

Lewis won't come out of his lab, and the EMH is hiding in a holodeck.

He's feeling homesick.

I-I-I let him use my Voyager simulation, and it seems to be cheering him up.

A hologram fighting to save the life of his creator... who just so happens to be the same man his own personality is based on.

I think I'd need a whole team of therapists just to get them in the same room.

Mr. Barclay says this is your favorite ice cream.

I hardly deserve it, but thanks.

You're a hologram. How do you know?

I'm an empath. I haven't sensed any emotions from you.

When were you first brought on line?

Nine years ago.

No offense, but you're more antiquated than the EMH Mark-1, and yet Lewis seems to listen to you.

Why do you suppose that is?

Were you here when the Mark-1 was created?

Yes.

Any idea why Lewis made it in his own image?

Maybe you should ask him.

I did.

He evaded the question.

I was hoping you might know.

He was extremely proud of the Mark-1.

He used to dream about hundreds of holograms in every corner of the Quadrant saving lives.

He put so much of himself into its development.

I suppose it only seemed natural that it should look like him, too.

But the Mark-1 failed to meet Starfleet's expectations.

He was devastated.

He... he locked himself away in this lab for two years, trying to repair the defects.

Finally, he just gave up, uh, started from scratch... a whole new matrix.

The Mark-2. Followed by the Mark-3 and then the Mark-4.

He... he was obsessed with perfecting it.

But none of the later models resembled Lewis.

He made that mistake once.

He wasn't about to do it again.

And now, after all this time, a Mark-1 shows up.

It must be like staring in a mirror at a reflection you don't want to remember.

Computer, resume recording.

Last will and testament, Dr. Lewis Zimmerman.

Let's see, where were we?

Subsection 8:

"The Trojan Horse project."

I hereby bequeath my latest research in holographic infiltration technology to the only engineer I trust to complete the work--

Lieutenant Reginald Barclay.

Subsection 9:

"Holographic Art."

I hereby bequeath my entire collection, including the 21st-century masterpiece

Woman in Four Dimensions... to the person who has appreciated it the most--

I... guess that would be Reg Barclay, too.

Subsection 10:

"Haley."

I realize she's only a hologram, but she's been a loyal assistant for many years.

I'd like to request that Starfleet keep her program running for as long as this research facility exists.

She's been as real to me as anyone I've ever known.

Not that I've known many people.

I've created most of my friends.

( gasps in pain )

( groaning )

Pause recording.

( shuddering )

Don't worry, I'll find a home for you, too.

So this is Voyager.

I like it.

It's a remarkable facsimile, but Mr. Barclay did get a few of the details wrong.

For one thing, Neelix doesn't purr.

I think that may have something to do with Reg's cat.

He named it after your friend.

Neelix would be honored.

If you're here for Dr. Zimmerman's medical files,

I've nearly finished updating them.

Maybe the next physician will put them to better use.

Actually...

I stopped by to ask you to dinner.

I'm a hologram, Counselor. I don't eat.

I know that, but we'd still enjoy your company.

We?

Lieutenant Barclay, Haley, myself...

Dr. Zimmerman. No, thanks.

Unless that man's eating crow, I'm not interested.

It's the perfect opportunity for us to talk things out in a more casual environment.

Sorry. Just one meal?

I said no.

Doctor? Something's wrong.

Troi to Lieutenant Barclay. Go ahead.

There's something wrong with the EMH.

Can-can you be more specific?

She's a Counselor, Lieutenant, not an Engineer.

Stand by.

( sighs )

What's happening to me?

Your program is destabilizing.

What? Why?

They sent you 30,000 light-years.

I...I should have expected some problems.

It's not your fault, Mr. Barclay.

We just need to find a way to repair the damage.

You don't understand.

Your primary matrix is degrading, and there is nothing I can do.

Good riddance to bad photons.

He's dying, Lewis.

He's not dying.

His files are just degrading.

There are people on Voyager who count on him.

I'll send them a Mark-4. They're more reliable.

They don't want a Mark-4.

They want their friend.

No EMH was ever designed to be anyone's friend!

He's just a hologram.

Is that how you feel about me?

Just a hologram?

I will not be ambushed in my own lab.

Stardate 53292.

My program malfunctioned, and you canceled a lecture on Vulcan and came all the way home to repair me.

There's nothing worse than addressing a room full of pointy-eared blowhards.

I was looking for an excuse to get away.

You came back because you cared about me, just like you care about the Mark-1.

You just won't admit it.

He may not be perfect, but he's still one of your creations, and right now, he needs his creator.

Don't turn your back on him.

Computer, activate Voyager's EMH.

Please state the nature of the medical emergency.

You're the emergency.

Where's Lieutenant Barclay?

Trust me, you're in far more capable hands.

You're going to repair my program?

Who better?

Just yesterday, you threatened to decompile me.

That was before your colleagues made me feel guilty.

You're ill. You're in no condition to perform delicate procedures.

I'll survive, but you won't if you don't relax and let me finish.

What are you doing? My scans identified a recursive error in your pattern buffer. I'm trying to isolate it.

Is that a fractal algorithm?

Very good.

I'm using it to realign your matrix.

Fractal algorithms are notoriously unstable.

In the hands of a novice.

Whoops.

"Whoops"? What's "whoops"?

( sighs ): Computer, deactivate EMH.

Ah...

( sighs )

I-I... I can't move.

I know. I had to take your mobility subroutines off-line.

How long have I been deactivated?

17 hours.

( groans )

I'm resetting your parameters.

You don't look well. ( sighs )

You need rest.

I'm fine, and so are you.

Your program's been stabilized.

I... I'm going to be okay?

No, you're going to be better than okay.

Now what are you doing?

Welcome to Sick Bay.

How may I help you today?

Well, what do you think?

I think you've altered my greeting protocol.

That's just the beginning.

I've also added new subroutines for compassion, patience, empathy, decorum.

I don't feel any different.

Because I haven't installed them yet.

I thought you'd like to be awake for the big moment.

Reginald was right about you.

You have exceeded the sum of your programming.

You've accomplished far more than I would have ever predicted.

But let's face facts.

You never overcame the inherent flaws in your personality subroutines.

You're arrogant, irritable--

"a jerk," as Counselor Troi would say.

I believe she was describing you, as well.

Don't change the subject.

I may not be able to turn you into a Mark-4, but I can make you a bit more presentable.

What if I'm happy with the way I am?

I'm doing you a favor.

I don't want any favors, and I don't want your new subroutines!

Why can't you accept me as I am?!

Because you're defective!

"Emergency Medical Hotheads!"

"Extremely Marginal House Calls."

That's what everyone used to call the Mark-1's, until they were bounced out of the Medical Corps.

I tried to have them decommissioned, but Starfleet, in its infinite wisdom, overruled me and reassigned them all to work waste-transfer barges.

That's where you'd be, too, if you hadn't been lost in the Delta Quadrant.

Do you know how humiliating it is to have 675 Mark-1's out there scrubbing plasma conduits... all with my face?

I'm sure they're doing a fine job.

What are you doing? I'm not finished with you.

I'm trying to do my job.

And if you give me a chance, you'll see that I'm pretty good at it.

Frankly, I'd hoped that if we ever met, you'd be proud of me.

Well...

I guess it is comforting to know that at least one of you is still doing what I designed you to do.

( tricorder beeps )

Your intercellular proteins are at a dangerous level.

We should begin the procedure.

Please?

Give me a chance to make you proud of me.

Maybe we could try it; see how it goes.

See how it goes.

Just don't expect me to put you in my will.

I-I'm going in. Reg...

They have been in there for 32 hours!

Be patient.

Well, you...

You're not fritzing anymore.

No thanks to you.

Dr. Zimmerman ran a diagnostic on my subtronic relays, and he made a very interesting discovery.

Apparently, I was the victim of foul play.

Well, what... what do you mean?

He found an algorithm designed to disrupt my matrix.

You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?

Well, traditional therapy wasn't getting us anywhere.

Well, your little scheme worked.

Dr. Zimmerman has agreed to the cellular regeneration procedure.

It requires several more treatments, but I'm optimistic he'll make a full recovery.

Trying to steal my secrets?

Another one of my hobbies.

I thought I'd take home a few memories.

You're supposed to be in bed.

I've got work to do.

It can wait.

Go to bed. Doctor's orders.

( sighs ): I hope you won't be coming back next month to make sure I'm taking my medicine.

Don't worry. My Captain's not likely to authorize another... house call.

Good.

The next time she sends a data stream, you might want to drop me a line, let me know how you're doing.

If you insist.

( door opens )

Ready?

Would you mind?

Not at all.

Smile.