The Doctor kept his eyes glued to the display showing Conlon’s neurological stability. There were troubling, intermittent spikes, but it was much too late to alter course now.
“Twenty-seven percent,” Barclay said.
“Any signs of rejection?” the Doctor asked.
“No.”
“Small mercies. What the hell is happening back there?” the Doctor asked.
“You don’t want me to stop and check right now, do you?” Barclay asked.
“Of course not.”
Lieutenant Kim rushed into sickbay. “Why did the captain call for…?” he began but stopped short the minute his eyes found the hologram of Nancy Conlon that stood motionless beside the biobed on which her body lay.
“Is that…?” he asked.
“Yes, Lieutenant,” the Doctor said.
“The last time we talked about this, it was only a hypothetical eventuality,” Kim said, clearly understanding what was happening.
“As you have no doubt surmised, it is now an actuality,” the Doctor said. “The lieutenant agreed to the consciousness transfer but asked that we keep the matter confidential until it was complete. Given that we have managed to fail her quite spectacularly in that regard in the past, I felt obligated to honor her request.”
“It’s okay, Doc,” Kim said, watching the hologram tensely. “I get it.”
“We’re holding at sixty-seven percent,” Barclay interjected. “There seems to be a lag in the transfer.”
“Is something wrong?” Kim demanded.
“I don’t know,” the Doctor said. “There was a brief power disruption right before we began. But it shouldn’t have affected the transfer.”
“The transfer rate has slowed significantly,” Barclay said, “but the engrammatic buffers are still stable. I don’t think the hologram is rejecting the transfer. I think the problem is on the other end.”
Kim moved to the opposite side of the biobed and took Conlon’s free hand in his. “Nancy, it’s Harry. I’m here. Listen to my voice. I need you to come back to me. I need you. The baby needs you. Every person on this ship is counting on you to keep us alive out here. Don’t be afraid.”
To the Doctor’s surprise, Barclay said, “Sixty-eight percent.”
“Keep talking,” the Doctor ordered Kim.
“Just listen to my voice, Nancy. You’re almost there. Don’t be afraid. Remember how it was when we were standing among the stars. Remember how we promised to be there for each other, no matter what. I’m here and I’m waiting for you to come back to me. I know you can do it.”
“Seventy-five percent.”
“Transfer rate has stabilized,” the Doctor said, relieved.
“That’s it, Nancy. You’re doing great. Come on. Just a little further. I’m here. Find my voice,” Kim said, his tone strong and certain.
“Ninety percent,” Barclay reported. “Ninety-two. Ninety-five.” And finally, with a deep sigh of relief, “Transfer complete.”
The Doctor turned his attention toward the hologram. She had stood, throughout the procedure, with her eyes open but her face slack. Her eyes began to flutter rapidly. She looked to her left and right, searching the faces staring at her intently.
Kim still held Conlon’s hand, but his eyes were on the hologram’s face, filled with hope.
“Nancy?” he asked.
She turned to him and a faint smile crossed her lips.
“Hi there,” she said softly.
Kim moved back to stand directly across from her. “Hello, beautiful,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, extending her arms before her and staring at the backs of her hands. She wriggled her fingers, considering them quizzically, then took a few unsteady steps forward. When she stopped, her attention shifted to her right arm, where the mobile emitter generating her body rested on a black band.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re in sickbay,” the Doctor said gently. “The consciousness transfer was completed successfully. Take as much time as you need to acclimate yourself.”
“The matrix is functioning well within normal parameters,” Barclay said. “You should have access to all of your memory files now.”
Conlon stood still, her focus clearly inward as she appeared to search those files for the first time. Finally, she said, “It worked. I’m here. I’m real.”
“Of course you are,” the Doctor said with a smile. “As real as any of us.”
“I can see again. What’s wrong with the lights?”
“A security issue,” the Doctor said. “I am sure the captain has it well in hand by now.”
She took a few more steps, now surefooted. “It’s amazing. I can’t remember ever feeling like this.”
“What do you mean?” Kim asked.
“It’s hard to explain,” she replied. “But I feel like I could do absolutely anything. It’s just hard to decide what to do first.”
“First, you’re going to take a seat and let me run a full diagnostic,” Barclay said.
“Oh, all right,” she said cheerfully, for the first time noticing her body lying on the biobed. Her face fell into concerned lines. “Am I okay?” she asked.
“You are,” the Doctor said. “Your body will remain in this condition as we continue to work to heal it.”
She nodded. “Good. Yes. That’s good.”
Kim crossed to stand opposite her. “Do you mind if I stick around?”
“Of course I don’t,” she said with a genuine smile, then asked, “Who are you?”
16
VESTA
Captain Regina Farkas needed to turn in for the night. Gamma shift was already four hours old and no one was going to care how much sleep she had missed when alpha shift dawned bright and early. Apart from her typical duties—running a starship crewed by almost eight hundred souls was no picnic on a good day—her slipstream specialists were now working in conjunction with Voyager’s to calculate a slipstream flyby of the rogue star that apparently had a better than average chance of turning both ships into salsa. Lieutenant Bryce and Seven were pulling all-nighters adding a few Borg-inspired components to some remote scanners to make sure that when the Edrehmaia took offense to altering the star’s course, they would be able to identify their present location and, hopefully, Galen’s along with it. Bryce had tried three times to explain the math to his captain before she had agreed to simply trust him, simultaneously assuring him that he would never see the inside of a starship again should any of those
