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Human Error

[metronome ticking]

[playing classical music]

Feels heavy.

-Baby's first tricorder? -Not exactly.

Hmm...

Thank you.

I'm sure she'll love it.

-What is it? -A pleenok.

Vulcans use them to train their infants in primary logic.

Never too early to train those synapses, eh, Tuvok?

Here, let me see that. I love a good puzzle.

This one's from Mr. Kim.

[laughing]

-Starfleet diapers. -Standard issue.

[laughter]

[Paris] At least we'll know who to call if there's a containment breach.

Now that your Borg implants have been removed, you might think about having children of your own one day.

One day.

I have been considering some less radical changes

-in my personal life. -Such as?

I realize I don't have a rank, but I would like to request a uniform.

Consider it done.

The Doctor tells me you don't need to regenerate anymore.

I can arrange some quarters for you, unless you enjoy curling up in the cargo bay.

A bed would be more comfortable.

Since I arrived on Voyager, your guidance has been invaluable.

Thank you, Captain.

All I did was chart the course.

You were the one who made the journey.

[Chakotay] Seven.

It's traditional for everyone to share their best wishes for the baby.

I thought you might like to start.

To the newest member of our crew... may all her desires be fulfilled except for one... so she'll always have something to strive for.

-Oh, very good. -Well said.

Hear, hear.

And may she inherit a sense of logic from her mother.

I'll drink to that.

[laughter]

-[console beeps] -That was strange.

Care to explain?

I wish I could.

Long-range sensors picked up an energy discharge,

-but now it's gone. -[console beeps]

There. There's another one.

They're occurring approximately 5.9 light-years ahead.

-Source? -We're too far to get a clear reading.

-Bridge to Seven of Nine. -Go ahead.

-Report to the Astrometrics Lab. -Acknowledged.

Computer, end program.

I wasn't able to find the cause of the discharges, but the region ahead contains unusual amounts of subspace radiation

-and metallic debris. -Vessels?

Not within range, but I'll have more data once we move closer.

I see no reason to alter course. Keep an eye on your sensors.

-Yes, Captain. -Now... on to more pressing matters.

Does B'Elanna suspect anything?

-Not a clue. -Good. Mess Hall, 1400 hours.

Be on time; I don't want to spoil the surprise.

I expect both of you to show up.

I'll be busy here.

What's wrong, Seven? No baby showers in the collective?

I'm sure you can spare a few minutes.

[Paris clears throat]

If it's any consolation,

I share your discomfort with social gatherings.

They seem to occur with alarming frequency.

Mr. Neelix would argue that they improve morale.

I have been looking for ways to improve my social skills.

Perhaps I'll attend.

Well, it certainly is, uh... efficient.

No clutter.

Plenty of room to move around.

[chuckles]

But it's a little impersonal. Don't you think?

Explain.

Well, these are your quarters, Seven.

They should reflect your individuality.

How about a table and a couple of chairs?

Give yourself a place to work... entertain guests.

Uh, try to add a little color.

Uh, photographs, uh, artwork, knickknacks.

-Knickknacks? -Little things, like the wood carvings in Ensign Kim's quarters.

I've never been to Ensign Kim's quarters.

But I suppose I could replicate some items and disperse them throughout the room.

That's a start.

Some people like to display pictures of family and friends.

There's a photograph of my parents in the ship's database.

I'll make a copy and place it in a frame.

Good, good.

A multispectral starchart might enhance this bulkhead.

Or a painting.

A painting of a starchart.

I was thinking of something more abstract, more, uh, artistic.

Drapes.

Nothing livens up a room like good window dressing.

Not to mention the added privacy.

Privacy? We're in space.

Well, you never know when we'll be docking at a crowded spaceport.

But we'll have to make sure that they match the carpet.

I'm thinking of a Talaxian mosaic, uh, tulaberry blue stripes with an orange inlay...

I appreciate your aesthetic insights, but I believe I can proceed on my own.

-[door chimes] -Enter.

Am I interrupting?

Please come in.

Love what you've done with the place.

We're in the process of decorating.

Maybe this will help.

Consider it a housewarming gift.

It's beautiful. What is it?

A dreamcatcher.

According to Native American mythology, it wards off nightmares.

I'm impressed.

I've familiarized myself with your culture.

Now that you'll be sleeping instead of regenerating,

I thought it might come in handy.

I'm sure it will. Thank you.

I'll let you two find a place to hang that.

But it would look perfect right above the bed.

Pleasant dreams.

[door opens, closes]

It was thoughtful of you to stop by.

On move-in day? I wouldn't miss it.

I suppose this makes you my inaugural guest.

I'd be a negligent host if I didn't offer you a beverage.

Tea?

That might be difficult.

No replicator.

Another flaw in the decor.

I'll requisition one for you first thing tomorrow.

I'd appreciate that, Commander.

Chakotay.

We're off-duty. We can drop the formalities.

Yes, sir.

[chuckles softly]

I enjoyed your toast today.

You've come a long way. I hope to see more.

You will.

Good night.

Chakotay.

As you might know,

I've taken an interest in culinary science.

I'm preparing a meal tomorrow night, and I thought perhaps you could attend... to evaluate my work.

I'd be happy to.

1900 hours?

I'll bring the wine... and the furniture.

Then you accept?

It's a date.

♪ Rock-a-bye baby, in the space dock ♪

♪ When the core blows, the shuttle will rock ♪

♪ When the hull breaks, the shuttle will fall ♪

♪ And down will come baby, shuttle and all... ♪

Are you trying to soothe the infant or traumatize her?

The lyrics are rather grim, but it's the melody they respond to.

I recorded 29 in all, including a couple of Klingon lullabies.

My favorite is "quong vaj Ocht."

"Sleep, Little Warrior."

I could tell by the look on their faces that my gift made quite an impression.

-No doubt. -I wish you'd been there.

It was a lovely shower.

Tom and B'Elanna were disappointed that you didn't attend.

I was occupied.

Are you experiencing any shoulder pain?

-Yes. -Hmm.

Your biradial clamp is out of alignment by .3 microns.

I'm afraid it'll have to be repaired.

Can't you simply extract the component?

Not if you want to keep using that arm.

[sighs]

I know it's an inconvenience, but until we can find a way to remove your cybernetic systems, they'll have to be maintained.

It's a minor procedure. We might as well take care of it now.

I prefer to wait.

We'll be done in an hour.

I have research to complete.

Oh.

I suppose we can put it off until next week's physical.

I also noticed that your electrolyte levels are down by 12 percent.

Have you missed any regeneration cycles?

-Last night. -Don't tell me.

More... research?

This must be some project.

Mind if I ask what you're working on?

-It's complicated. -How do you mean?

My personal life is none of your concern.

I wasn't aware you had a personal life.

Report?

It was an energy discharge, 200,000 kilometers starboard.

[Tuvok] It produced a level-9 shock wave.

Some kind of weapon?

[Tuvok] Possibly.

Another one, five million kilometers to port.

A shock wave is approaching.

Full power to the shields.

Our warp field's destabilizing.

I'm detecting another. Distance 50,000 kilometers.

Turn our bow into the wave front. It'll minimize the damage.

Sorry, Captain, there wasn't enough time.

We've lost warp drive.

I'm reading another. Distance 26 million kilometers.

Too far to pose a threat.

If they are weapons, they don't seem to be directed at us.

Or whoever's firing them is a lousy shot.

[Seven] Astrometric sensors recorded the explosions.

I believe it's a long-range subspace warhead.

The debris in this region suggests that dozens have been fired in the last several weeks.

The warhead destroyed something. What was it?

It appeared to be an unmanned probe.

This is all very intriguing, but I'd just as soon get out of here before we cross paths with another one of these things.

Where do we stand on repairs?

Subspace radiation from the explosions is making it difficult to create a stable warp field.

Lieutenant Torres estimates 48 hours.

Can you find a way to detect the warheads

-before they emerge from subspace? -I believe so.

The weapons create minor gravimetric distortions as they approach the subspace barrier, but I'll need to recalibrate my sensors to isolate the effect.

Do it. Even a few seconds' warning would help us.

Yes, Captain.

Your duty shift doesn't begin for two hours.

The Doctor sent me to relieve you early.

He wants you to spend more time regenerating.

I see he's enlisted an ally.

"Don't kill the messenger."

It's Sophocles-- Oedipus Rex.

I've been studying Earth literature as a part of my Academy training.

[sighs]

Continue these scans of the subspace barrier.

Look for any gravimetric distortions.

Run another diagnostic on the injector ports.

-Make sure they're aligned. -They're aligned. I checked.

Check again.

Come to join the fun? We're trying to cold-start the warp core... for the 15th time.

Perhaps this will enhance your day.

It's a belated gift for your baby shower.

-I apologize for my absence. -Oh.

Proceed.

They're lined with biothermal insulation.

Your infant's feet will be protected, even if the external temperature drops below minus 40 degrees Celsius.

Well, they're certainly unique.

-Thank you. -You're welcome.

I wish to ask you a personal question.

Shoot.

You have an appealing coiffure. What is your grooming regimen?

You're asking me what I do with my hair?

Yes.

Oh, well, nothing too elaborate.

Sonic shower... a little engine grease.

Thinking about a new look?

Perhaps.

I'll keep you apprised if you'd like.

Please do.

Was that Seven of Nine?

There must be an alien intruder onboard.

[sighs]

Computer, make the following modifications to holodeck file

Seven of Nine Alpha-3, Personal Quarters.

[computer] Modifications complete.

Begin program.

[classical music playing]

[Chakotay] You look perfect.

Give me a hand with this?

I'm surprised your Starfleet training didn't include cork extraction.

I must have been sick that day.

[Seven scoffs]

Looks like wine's off the menu.

Unless you brought a phaser.

Never on the first date.

Assist me.

Slice these vegetables transversally in five-millimeter increments.

Aye, aye.

That smells delicious.

Our appetizer is braised leeks.

Primary course, rack of lamb with wild rice.

No dessert?

Dessert will be a surprise.

I can't wait.

Does this contain enough sodium chloride for your taste?

Could use another .6 milligrams, but you're the chef.

I concur. More salt.

Liszt?

Chopin.

I've discovered that classical music has intriguing mathematical properties.

Do you play an instrument?

The Doctor's been giving me piano lessons.

I'd love to hear you play.

I require more practice.

Your technique is flawed.

Sorry. I'm a replicator man.

Use your left hand to guide the food.

Observe closely.

Pay attention to the vegetable.

You're beautiful when you're chopping.

I don't mean to sound like an old holonovel... but you've got a wonderful smile.

It wasn't a smile; it was a smirk.

Oh, no, it was a smile.

I could check the internal sensors if you'd like.

Remain still.

You have an intriguing facial structure.

I'll take that as a compliment.

I require more practice.

You're doing just fine.

[electronic feedback]

What's wrong?

Nothing.

[metronome ticking]

[classical music playing]

I wasn't aware you had a personal life.

Chakotay to Seven of Nine.

-[beeping] -Chakotay to Seven. Respond.

[sighs] Go ahead.

Report to Astrometrics. We found something.

Yes, Commander.

Good morning.

Good morning.

You found something.

At first, we thought it was another one of the probes, then Icheb picked up an automated transmission.

It's a warning beacon.

[male voice] You have entered Subspace Munitions Range 434.

Evacuate immediately.

Apparently, this entire region is an alien testing ground.

We've been sending out emergency hails, but so far, no response.

Whoever's conducting these tests could be dozens of light-years away.

Any progress detecting their warheads?

Not yet.

-You seem a little distracted. -I'm fine.

It's not like you to be late for a duty shift.

Rough night?

Not at all.

I'll be on the Bridge if you find anything.

"Better late than never."

Titus Livius, A History of Rome.

You're relieved.

[sighs]

Get some rest.

[door opens, closes]

[sighs]

[classical music playing]

[music ends]

-[sighs] Bravo. -You approve?

Approve? I'm amazed.

I was expecting "Chopsticks." I had no idea you were so good.

The Doctor's an efficient instructor.

It won't be long before you're giving a recital for the entire crew.

The Doctor did suggest that I accompany him during his next operatic performance.

Your turn.

Mmm... unfortunately, I don't play.

But I'd love to hear you again.

And this... is one of my favorites.

[metronome ticking]

[music begins]

[ticking and music stop]

You want me to stop?

No. I want you to play.

I don't understand.

Look.

Your technique is flawless, but try to put a little more heart into the piece.

More of yourself.

[music resumes]

[playing awkwardly]

-[music stops] -[laughs] That's all right.

Keep going.

[music resumes]

Tell me what you're feeling.

-My tempo is erratic. -Not what you're thinking.

What you're feeling.

Your emotions.

Frustration, anxiety.

Stop thinking about the notes. Just play.

-[music stops] -I can't.

Yes, you can.

Don't you see what's happening?

The metronome is holding you back.

It gives you a sense of order, but it also cuts you off from your feelings.

Remember when you first came aboard?

The thought of disconnecting from the hive mind terrified you.

This is no different.

It doesn't have to be perfect.

[music begins]

[playing smoothly]

Eight hundred thousand kilometers off the starboard bow.

Bridge to Seven of Nine.

[Seven] Go ahead, Commander.

We need those sensor calibrations.

I'll need a moment to return to my station.

That would be a good idea.

Hull fracture, Deck 12.

Seven of Nine, report.

[Seven] Stand by, Captain.

Lieutenant Paris, isolate subspace band omicron theta.

Acknowledged.

Direct your sensors to coordinates 178 mark 26.

Nothing there.

Correction 178 mark 36.

I can see them.

Two warheads are about to emerge. Adjusting course.

Full power to the forward shields.

Impact in five... four... three... two...

Shields are holding.

Why wasn't Seven at her post?

Good question. Maybe you should ask her.

It was your responsibility to locate those warheads.

-I succeeded. -Not before we took heavy damage.

You told Chakotay you'd have those sensor calibrations hours ago.

The work took longer than I anticipated.

It might've gone faster if you'd stayed at your post, as you were ordered to do.

I didn't realize I was confined to the Astrometrics Lab.

You were on duty.

This isn't the first time you've left your station over the past few days.

Holodeck 2?

You've logged a lot of time in there. Mind if I ask why?

Well, it must be something important, Seven.

Forty-nine hours in six days?

I was running a simulation.

Of what?

A new gravimetric array I've been developing.

I wanted to perfect the design before I brought it to you.

I appreciate your efforts to improve our systems, but I can't have you dividing your time right now.

When the ship's on alert, I expect you to perform your duties.

If you need to leave your post, inform Commander Chakotay. Understood?

Yes, Captain.

I apologize for my lapse in judgment.

We all make mistakes, Seven.

I've even been known to make a few myself.

It sounds intriguing.

Your new gravimetric array.

When this crisis is over, I'd be happy to take a look.

Maybe I can lend a hand.

I've analyzed the sensor data from that last barrage.

I've refined your detection method.

We'll be able to see the weapons 10.3 seconds earlier.

The Captain will be pleased.

Have I offended you?

No. You've done nothing wrong.

I was negligent in my duties.

As a result, Voyager was nearly destroyed.

I was hoping you could provide a quotation to help alleviate my guilt.

I can't think of one, but I'd be happy to search the database.

That won't be necessary.

Stay here until I return.

Where are you going?

To correct an error.

Computer, activate Chakotay simulation.

[door chimes]

Come in.

I hope you're not allergic.

Antarian moon blossoms. Extremely rare.

I had to smuggle them out of Airponics.

Don't tell Neelix.

I thought I'd cook for you tonight.

How does roasted chicken sound?

I slaved over the replicator for hours.

Not hungry?

I called you here to thank you.

For what?

The past few days have been memorable.

To say the least.

You're ending this.

In a manner of speaking, yes.

Why?

Our relationship is interfering with my responsibilities on Voyager.

I could speak to the Captain, have her cut back on your duty shifts.

Seven, the past few days have been more than memorable.

They've been an important step forward for both of us.

Don't throw that away.

I'm sorry, Commander.

You're making a mistake.

No, I'm trying to correct one.

Ask yourself why you want to end this.

Is it out of a sense of duty... or something else?

Every time you move closer to your emotions, you back away.

-Like hiding behind that metronome. -Your analogy is flawed.

Is it?

I think you're afraid that embracing your humanity will make you weak, less than perfect.

But think about what you stand to gain.

It's irrelevant.

No, it's not.

Real intimacy with another person-- nothing's more relevant.

[electronic feedback]

I must return to my station.

-Stay here with me. -This ship needs me.

-So do I. -I can't function this way!

You're not a drone anymore, you're human!

-Stop! -[feedback continues]

Seven!

What's wrong?

[feedback grows louder]

Sick Bay... medical emergency.

Seven?

Computer, locate Seven of Nine.

[computer] Seven of Nine is in Holodeck 2.

What happened?

We were having an argument, and she just collapsed.

Her cortical node is shutting down. She's going into neural shock.

And what happened to her facial implants?

I thought you removed all her cybernetic systems.

Computer, end program.

Commander?

If you're looking for your other holographic friend, he's off-line at the moment.

Your cortical node began to shut down.

Fortunately, I managed to stabilize it before there was any permanent damage.

It was functioning properly when you examined me two days ago.

I'm going to run a diagnostic on your entire cortical array.

But it might help if I knew what you were doing before you collapsed.

Did you suffer a physical injury of some kind?

No.

Were you exposed to any unusual radiation?

No.

What exactly were you doing in there?

Research.

That simulation of Commander Chakotay mentioned that the two of you were having an argument.

Was that part of your research?

I couldn't help but notice that you'd created some quarters for yourself.

A new dress... dinner for two.

I trust you'll respect doctor-patient confidentiality.

Of course.

I've been conducting simulations to explore different aspects of my humanity.

Such as?

Social activities, friendships with the crew... intimate relations.

I take it our first officer is your romantic interest?

Commander Chakotay seemed like an appropriate choice.

He has many admirable qualities.

So he does.

What prompted all this?

Unimatrix Zero.

I've been trying to re-create some of the experiences I had there.

Ever since it was destroyed, my life has... seemed incomplete.

I wanted to feel those emotions again.

Well, this is encouraging.

You might be ready to start forming deeper relationships.

I'm proud of you, Seven.

Your pride is misplaced.

I intend to delete the programs.

Why?

I can no longer perform my duties efficiently.

My personal life has become a distraction.

It's supposed to be a distraction.

You simply have to find the right balance between work and recreation.

Inform me when you finish the diagnostic.

Seven.

For what it's worth, you have excellent taste.

Your quarters... they suited you.

Antimatter flow stable.

Injector ports aligned.

That should do it.

Torres to the Bridge.

Looks like we've got warp drive back.

Well done. Tom.

With pleasure.

I'm detecting another subspace warhead.

Range?

12 million kilometers. Closing from astern.

Red alert. Where's the target probe?

It's on a totally different trajectory.

When we engaged the engines, the warhead must have diverted from its target and locked on to our warp signature.

Evasive maneuvers.

It's matching our course. Eight million kilometers.

Can you get a weapons lock?

Affirmative.

Photon torpedoes. Full spread.

Our torpedoes have been neutralized.

Five million kilometers.

-Bridge to Seven of Nine. -Here, Captain.

Can you get me anything on the warhead's internal circuitry?

Stand by.

I have it.

What can you tell me about the detonator?

The weapon is armed with proximity resonance circuitry.

What's the activation frequency?

4.84 gigahertz.

I may be able to disarm it with an antiresonance pulse.

-Do it. -Two million kilometers.

-Initiating the pulse. -Seven, status?

The warhead's rotating its activation frequency.

-It's still armed. -One million kilometers.

Can you compensate?

Negative.

Captain, I believe I can disarm the warhead.

How?

By extracting the detonator with our transporter.

At this velocity? The device is too small.

You'd never get a lock.

I can use the submicron imager to focus our targeting scanners.

Please, give me transporter control.

Eight hundred thousand.

[Janeway] All right, Seven. It's up to you.

I have a lock.

Energizing.

The detonator's protected by tritanium shielding.

I can penetrate it, but not at this distance.

We'll have to wait until it's closer.

-Five hundred thousand. -Status?

-Not yet, Captain. -[Paris] Four...

three...

two...

Brace for impact!

[sighs]

[door opening]

Doctor.

You've come to deliver unpleasant news.

Is it that obvious?

I've completed my diagnostic.

What you experienced was no malfunction.

Your cortical node was designed to shut down your higher brain functions when you achieve a certain level of emotional stimulation.

Clarify.

It appears to be a fail-safe mechanism... to deactivate drones who start to regain their emotions.

Knowing the Borg, it makes perfect sense.

Finding one's heart is the surest road to individuality.

But I'm no longer linked to the hive mind.

The technology's built into your node.

It simply remained dormant... until now.

Can you repair me?

Possibly.

I've been thinking about a way to reconfigure the micro-circuitry.

I won't lie to you, Seven.

It would entail multiple surgeries, and the recovery might be difficult.

But I believe we could eventually succeed.

I'll prepare the Surgical Bay. We can begin tomorrow morning.

No.

Without the procedure, you won't be able to continue your simulations.

I've experienced enough humanity for the time being.

They were only holographic fantasies, Doctor.

An inefficient use of my time.

You don't really believe that.

The fail-safe device will ensure that I'm no longer distracted.

That's the Borg talking... not you.

As your physician... as your friend,

I'm asking you to let me proceed.

-I need to regenerate. -Seven...

Good night, Doctor.

-Where's the fire? -Fire?

You seem to be in a hurry.

I have to finish my report on the subspace warheads.

The ship's out of danger, thanks to you.

You've earned a break.

Why don't you join me in the Mess Hall?

Neelix is going to give a cooking lesson.

"Talaxian Tenderloin in Ten Minutes."

I'm no longer interested in cooking.

Then come for the company. B'Elanna's going to be there.

Tuvok even promised to show up. It'll be fun.

I appreciate your offer.

Another time, perhaps.

You know, you should try socializing with the crew a little more.

It might do you some good.