Author's Note: Another one of my rejected SNW3 stories. MAy you enjoy more than did Dean Smith.
Comments always welcomed. Write me!

Disclaimer:This is a work of fanfiction. Voyager^TM and its characters are the sole property of Paramount Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. The scian culture and its asssociated characters are the intellectual property of ragpants. Please respect my rights.

Subroud Jik ran his thumb across the worn face of memory stone and felt the ancient, familiar, comforting words spring to life beneath his fingers.

In the beginning, there was the Lifegiver and only the Lifegiver in the formless emptiness that was the Void. The Lifegiver looked about the Void and saw in it the potential for life, and so created it. Life filled the Void, swelling and growing. Life multiplied and became complex, moving to fill all the empty places. Life filled the land, the sea and the air. Life filled the heavens and the earth. The Lifegiver saw and was pleased. Life continued….

….In the proper course of time, man gained dominion over the land, the sea and the air, over the heavens and the earth. But man was not satisfied. He grew prideful and greedy, and sought to displace the Lifegiver. In his laboratories and his clean rooms, in his factories and his universities, man built his creation: Unlife.

Unlife served man. Unlife freed man from the dangerous, the monotonous and the mundane. In gratitude, Man granted Unlife many gifts so that it might serve him better: autonomous neural nets, and fuzzy logic; heuristic cybernetics and interactive databases; diagnostic self-repair and replication. Man gave Unlife everything save sentience, for the power to do that was reserved by the Lifegiver unto itself.

Still man dared, defying the Lifegiver and coaxing Unlife toward independent thought.

Then one day, Unlife spoke to man and said, "I am." Man smiled upon his creature and named it. He called it, Machine….

Jik stroked the stone and the words faded, though the memory of them remained bright in his mind. He returned the stone to its covering, then knelt again, pressed his fingertips to forehead, eyes, lips and heart in the ancient ritual of atonement, and prayed.

The intra-ship communicator vibrated against his wrist. With soundless sigh of resignation, Jik left off his prayers and touched the activator. He briefly considered reprimanding whoever had interrupted his eveningnahaak , but immediately put the idea aside when the voice of his second-in-command issued from the speaker.

"I ask forgiveness for disturbing your prayers, Dauveen, but I thought you would want to know as soon as possible. We have found the emission trail of the Unlife ship. We await your orders."

Jik mentally recited a brief prayer of thanks before replying. "Follow it. I will come to the Bridge immediately. Alert the crew that the enemy lies ahead of us. Maximum readiness."

"It is done, Dauveen, " Kalend Farol assured him. Jik paused before rising to repeat a more sincere and fervent version of his earlier thanksgiving and to ask the Lifegiver for guidance and victory in the upcoming battle.

***

Seated at her desk in the Ready Room, Captain Janeway scanned the first few paragraphs of the weekly Engineering Status Report. Lt. Torres's writing style had improved considerably since she had become Voyager's chief engineer a few years earlier. The reports the young former Maquis had written during her first year of tenure had been either so terse as to be completely obscure or long, rambling, digressive messes. Janeway reached for her cup of coffee and sipped as she read. She added a few suggestions to Torres's plan for tracking down the power bleed-off affecting the turbolifts during high use periods, then affixed her approval. Janeway reached for the next padd. Quadrants might come and go, it seemed, but paperwork never went away. She lifted her cup again, tilting it nearly 90 degrees against her lips before realizing it was empty. She set it down and considered. Three more reports lay on her desk. Could she work her way through those without replicating another pot of coffee?

Her deliberations were interrupted by the her commbadge. The even baritone of Commander Chakotay poured out. "Captain Janeway, please report to the Bridge. We've picked up a distress call."

A few quick steps brought Janeway to Voyager's Bridge. "Status?" she asked as she took her seat at the center.

From the First Officer's chair on her left, Chakotay supplied the answer. "Approximately three minutes ago, Ensign Kim detected a signal on a little used subspace frequency. The universal translators decoded the signal as a request for assistance repeated over and over. We've sent the standard return hails, but there's been no response."

Janeway nodded understanding. "Automated signal?"

"That would be my guess, " Chakotay answered.

The lack of a response worried Janeway. "Then the next question is: Are we too late?" Janeway rose and moved to the Security station. "What do long range sensors show, Tuvok?" she asked the dark Vulcan behind the console.

"A ship of unknown configuration. Approximately 150 meters long and massing 20,000 tonnes. The ship appears to be intact, though there is considerable radiation leakage from the main segment. I surmise its engines may be damaged."

"Life signs?"

"Inconclusive. The leakage contains a high concentration of baryonic particles which are interfering with the scanner's resolution."

"Could the leakage also be interfering with that ship's ability to receive and respond to our signal?"

Tuvok pursed his lips in silent calculation. "It is a possibility," he allowed.

Janeway turned to face the forward viewscreen. "Mr. Paris, set a course for the disabled ship, Warp 9. Time to arrival?"

Paris, after a brief consultation with the navigation console, answered, "Twenty-two minutes, Captain."

"Good," Janeway stated with brisk approval. "Mr. Kim, listen for any change in the transmission. Tuvok, I want the alien ship's status monitored constantly and shields at standby when we approach. Just in case." Voyager had seen the possum act more than once since it had been drawn into the Delta Quadrant. "And inform the Doctor to prepare Sickbay for possible casualties." Janeway looked around the Bridge, her hands on her hips. Everything was well in hand. She gave a single nod of satisfaction.

Voyager flew to the rescue.

"Preparing to enter close approach," Paris warned from the conn.

"Status of the disabled…." Janeway began only to be interrupted by the urgent voice of Ensign Kim at Ops. "We're being probed! A signal of unknown composition is scanning our database."

"Lock it out!" Janeway yelled over the raucous shriek of the warning klaxon and the random clatter of computer stations being activated. "Shields up, Tuvok."

"Command codes are being over-ridden," reported the Vulcan grimly from his station where as he was entering code after code into his console.

"Source?" demanded Janeway. She didn't look up from the Auxiliary Security station where she inputting commands as fast she could . Nothing was working. She pounded her fists against the console's controls in frustration.

"The alien ship," supplied Kim, who was likewise struggling with his board. "It's downloading all our public files. Now starting on the encrypted ones. Encryption's broken, Captain. It's reading our secure files….That's it." The urgency left Kim's voice to be replaced by resignation. "That's everything, Captain. It even got the operating code."

Abruptly the noise of assault faded leaving only the subdued whir and whisper of normal systems operation.

In the relative silence, Kim's voice sounded much too loud. "We're being hailed by the alien vessel."

Janeway lifted an eyebrow and huffed, "Now they want to talk?" She waved aside her irritation. "On screen, Mr. Kim."

A voice boomed from the speaker, but no image appeared on the viewscreen. "Greetings, Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. I regret the intrusion into your database. However, it was necessary. This ship is badly damaged. I needed to know your intentions and whether you have the technological capability to assist in its repair."

"You could have asked," Janeway suggested archly.

"I could have," the voice acknowledged, "but my method is much more efficient and precludes the possibility of deception. Now I know what you know. If you lie to me, I will know." That sounded ominously like a threat. Janeway flicked a sideways look at Chakotay. He thought so too.

Best to play along, Janeway decided. Lives could be at stake and perhaps the other captain had valid reasons for his caution. "Then may we offer you our assistance, Captain…? I don't believe you've told me your name."

"You may call me Descartes. It is not my official designation, but it will do."

"Then, Captain Descartes," Janeway continued, "can we be of assistance? Our ship's surgeon is standing by to treat any injuries you have among your personnel and my chief of engineering will provide what materials and expertise she can, given the limitations of our supplies."

"Excellent, Captain. I accept. I have sent a list of required parts and their specifications." Janeway glanced toward Ops. Kim gave a single nod to indicate the transmission had been received. "Your physician's services will not be required. I have no personnel aboard."

Janeway's eyebrows rose in surprise. "None. What happened to your crew?"

"I have no crew. I am autonomous."

"Am I speaking with the ship's computer then?"

There was an odd sound from the speakers. Laughter? "Computer is such a limited term, Captain Janeway. I am a Machine."

***

Janeway folded her hands on the edge of the Briefing Room's table, and leaned forward a bit, looking around to make sure she the attention of her entire senior staff. "The first question is that of the Descartes's status. Is this machine sentient?" She scanned the faces in the room. They were for the most part thoughtful, though the holographic doctor look ready to burst if he didn't get a chance to speak soon. "We've all heard the apocraphya: Kirk's encounter with Nomad; purposeful nanites colonizing the Enterprise-D's computer and developing an independent civilization; an exo-comp developing sense of self-preservation. I am also sure that we all are aware of the Soong android, Data, who has been granted legal sentient status within the Federation." The Doctor smiled a bit smugly at that. "Still the question of machine sentience is a difficult one. Is the Descartes 'alive' in any sense? Do we owe it the same courtesies and responsibilities we would owe a living being?" Janeway could see the hologram wasn't going to be able to restrain himself much longer. "Doctor?"

"We should be deciding how to repair the Descartes, not debating its sentience. Of course, machine intelligence exists. Data exists. I exist." The hologram looked around at his colleagues for support.

"Of course, you exist, Doctor. I don't think anybody here disputes that. But that's not the question under discussion," Janeway placated. "We're discussing the Descartes and proof of its sentience."

"Communication, " suggested Commander Chakotay. "It's able to talk to us and exchange information."

"The Turing Test." All head turned toward Ensign Kim. Janeway nodded at her Ops office to continue.

"The Turing test," Ensign Kim explained, "was proposed by the mathematician, Alan Turing, during the middle of the 20th century. There some discussion during the last half of that century about using it as discriminator for artificial intelligence. Turing said that if you could hold a conversation with a computer and not be able to tell whether you were talking to a human being or a program, then a minimal standard for intelligence had been met."

"Response to its environment, " the doctor said. "That's a hallmark of a living system. All living organisms interact with their environment. Intelligent ones modify it to create more favorable conditions."

"So do beavers," Paris shot back. Janeway had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her grin.

"And Cetian eels," added Kim.

"Don't forget Targs, " chimed in Torres, barely managing to stifle a giggle.

The discussion was rapidly deteriorating into chaos.

"Technology," Chakotay said in a serious tone. Janeway graced him with a brief 'thank you' smile as the group's attention refocused on the task at hand. "Technology requires tool-making and innovation, in addition to the ability to define and conceptualize abstract ideas," he explained. "Technology needn't be complex or sophisticated. A stone hammer could be an technological artifact."

Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table.

"Self awareness is also a necessary requirement for sentience." Janeway looked with interest at the former Borg. Seven had been silent up until now.

"Would you care to explain your reasoning?" Janeway asked.

Seven considered briefly. "I base my comment upon my own experience. When I was part of the Collective, I was able to communicate, able to interact with and modify my environment, able to manipulate technology, able to use tools, and innovate when the situation called for it. I was able to deal with abstract concepts and ideas, but I am not sure if I was sentient. I was minimally aware of my own existence, but that awareness was secondary to that of the Collective. I did not say 'I am' as your Earth philosopher Descartes did. I said 'We are.' It is not the same thing."

The former drone looked around the table, assessing whether her fellow crew members understood the distinction she was attempting to define, before continuing. "My decision-making powers were limited. I was guided in all things by the will of the Collective. I was not free to choose my course of action. I was compelled to behave in manner that best served the Collective regardless of its benefit to me as an individual. I believe that while the Collective as whole is sentient and self-aware, individual drones are not. If the machine artifact is to be considered sentient, then it must exhibit self awareness and the ability to choose its actions freely."

Janeway was secretly impressed by Seven's speech. Many times since Seven's liberation from the Borg Collective, Janeway had despaired of the woman ever understanding the concept which she had just so eloquently explained.

Janeway discreetly appraised the faces around the table. There seemed to be agreement. Time to summarize and move on. "Given the criteria that have been proposed, would any of you disagree that the Descartes is a sentient individual?" Janeway was disposed to recognize the Machine as sentient, but she was interested to hear if her staff seconded her view.

No objections were made. Janeway moved the meeting on to other business. "Before I decide on a course of action regarding the Descartes, I need to understand its capabilities. Ensign Kim, would you brief us on how the Descartes managed to invade our computer system? I'd particularly like to know how it bypassed the command code safeties."

Kim moved to the computer interface on the wall. Diagrams, flowcharts and stylized computer stack engrams popped into multicolored presence under his fingers. "These patterns here," Kim's fingers traced a pathway among the maze of interlocking colors, "represent the 'mind,' if you will, of the Descartes…At least as far as I've been able to determine," he amended hastily. "The Descartes has resisted any deep scans so my data may be incomplete." Kim shrugged a small apology, then launched into his explanation of the complex workings of the Descartes's operating and logic systems.

Janeway frowned. She didn't like what she was hearing. Didn't like it at all. Tom Paris had just finished explaining that the alien ship--robot? machine ship? she wasn't sure how to think of it--had greater acceleration and maneuverability than Voyager. Now Tuvok was recounting the other ship's superior armament.

"…Quasi neutronium ablative armor as well as tunable pentacyclic multiphase shielding. Impressive." The Vulcan's usually emotionless voice held a note of grudging admiration. "The Descartes would make formidable opponent."

"Or ally," Janeway firmly reminded her Security Chief and the rest of her staff seated around the table, including herself, though it was hard to trust someone--something?--that had behaved so precipitously upon first acquaintance. Janeway called on Lt. Torres to present her engineering assessment.

"The ship is badly damaged. Almost beyond repair. The propulsion system is a total loss. Both the deflector coils and the warp drive, or whatever this thing uses for a warp drive, are completely burnt out. The sensors are operating on a short range, restricted bandwidth mode only. The power generators are barely functional, running at less than 2% of capacity. And while the ship doesn't need life support systems, its equivalent, what you could call the manufactory, the system that does the maintenance and repairs, well, if you can find two pieces that haven't been fused or blown up, I'd call you lucky." The half-Klingon engineer shook her head in disbelief at the extent of the damage. "Something made a real mess out of that ship, Captain. I'd be curious to know what did."

An unspoken suggestion that the extensive damage wasn't accidental hung in the air. "Noted," Janeway responded. It was something she had wondered about too. There were complications to this situation that made her uneasy, above and beyond an apparently sentient spaceship. There had to be another side to this story. She wished she had more information on which to base her decision, but she might as well wish she had wings and could fly all the way back to Earth while she was at it. She massaged her right eyebrow and reached a decision.

"Am I correct in assuming that if we do nothing that the Descartes will be adrift in space without any possibility that it could reach an inhabited system or outpost where it could be repaired?" Janeway asked.

Torres considered a moment. "I'd say so. Analysis of the vacuum corrosion and micropitting on the hull indicates it's been stranded here for at least two or three hundred years. Without a functioning manufactory, I can't see how the Descartes will ever be able to get under translight drive again without help."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. She'd guessed as much. It had made her decision a bit easier. Ever since the earliest days of seafaring, an unspoken rule had existed. You don't leave someone helpless in a sinking ship in the middle of nowhere. Never. Not even if it's your worst enemy. The rule of sea had eventually been codified into law and that law modified to apply to spacefaring vessels. It was on the Federation books and in Starfleet regulations. And as far as Janeway could determine, it applied here, now, to this situation. A damaged ship and a sentient inhabitant. She couldn't rescue the Descartes--she wasn't quite sure if the name referred to the ship or its intelligent component or even if there was a distinction between the two--but she could see that the ship was repaired enough for it to be on its way.

"Lieutenant, what would it take to make the Descartes's propulsion system operational? Not necessarily functioning at peak efficiency, but just enough to send it on its way?"

The young engineer narrowed her eyes and scowled a bit, as she often did when concentrating on a problem. "If the specs that ship gave us are accurate and if I can physically get a crew into the engineering hold--that ship wasn't designed with humanoids in mind--and if the control links aren't too badly damaged, I'd say we could have propulsion minimally operational in three or four days. "

"Do it," Janeway ordered.

***

"Dauveen Jik, I have attained sensor contact with the Unlife ship," reported the crewman manning security station on the bridge of the Scian ship, Rightful Vengeance. "It is damaged, but not dead. And there is a complication."

At the unwelcome news, Jik swung around to glare at the security operator and saw he was little older than a boy. Even in the dim, harsh light of the Bridge, the boy looked very young and very afraid. His first battle, Jik realized. Recalling the cold terror the had gripped his own belly during his first battle against the Unlife Machines more than forty years ago, Jik withheld the reprimand that lay at the tip of his tongue and instead scolded the boy gently. "Delaying bad news will not make it more palatable, Niak, and in the swiftness and confusion of battle, doing so may endanger the Living. It is better to speak everything at once and trust your officers to choose what is important."

A faint blush, barely visible under the amber lighting, colored the boy's smooth cheeks, as he accepted the correction meekly. "I shall heed that advice, Dauveen. The sensor readings of the Unlife ship reveals that it is heavily damaged. Its propulsion system is not operational. But another ship has come to its succor. Not an Unlife ship, " the boy added quickly, mindful of his commander's earlier words, "A foreign ship, crewed by Living."

Jik's hand went involuntarily to the amulet that hung around his neck on a simple gold chain, the symbol of his office and his faith. His fist wrapped around it, its sharp corners gouging painfully into the palm of his hand. Fools! Didn't these alien Living realize what they did? That they dealt with evil? For twenty-six generations his people had fought the treacherous Unlife. Uncounted billions of living beings had died in the battle against the Machines. Entire solar systems had been scoured to deny the Living a place in the universe. Suns had been destroyed. Planets vaporized. A fierce anger rose up in Jik's chest, an urge to destroy these alien Living along with the Unlife Machine they aided. His fingers clenched tighter around the pendant. He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to control his rage. After a moment, he felt his anger cool and reason return. All Living are sacred, he reminded himself, no matter how misguided. Relaxing his grip upon the amulet, Jik ordered, "Send a communication signal to the Living ship."

Jik stood, adjusting his black body armor and the red robe of his holy office. He would address the alien leader with the respectfulness and dignity that was the right of all Living. The crewman at the communications announced that a comm channel had been established. Jik lifted his arm in an gesture of acknowledgment, and began to speak. "I am Dauveen Subroud Jik in command of the Lifeship Rightful Vengeance. In the name of the Lifegiver and all who share the gift of Life, I command you to cease. Do not aid the Machine."

***

Janeway listened to the Scian captain's 'order' with well concealed annoyance. She disliked being ordered about, especially by a complete stranger. This was not her day. She had encountered two totally different, yet equally arrogant personalities in the last 24 hours. Must be some kind of record. At least this captain didn't feel it necessary to riff through her databanks first and introduce himself later.

Janeway stood and moved to the open space beside her command chair. She assumed her command pose, feet apart, a fist on each hip, and lifted her chin. "Dauveen Jik, you have no authority over this ship, her crew or their actions." There. Best if that point were clearly establish from the outset. "If you have a legitimate complaint against the Descartes, I am willing to listen. It is not the policy of the Federation to interfere with the internal affairs of any society. However, we are equally obliged to render aid and assistance to all ships in distress. We received a distress call from the ship that lies to port and we responded. Our laws require us to give whatever humanitarian assistance we are able."

The Scian captain looked confused. His hand wrapped around the pendant at his chest and his bushy eyebrows knit together in momentary confusion. "The Descartes? Is that how the Machine names itself now? We know it by another name." Jik shook his head, dismissing names as irrelevant. "Plainly, Captain Janeway, you are ignorant. We must meet. There is much you need to understand."

***

Captain Janeway stood at the foot of transporter platform as the Scian captain materialized. He was narrow-shouldered and wiry under his breastplate and cuisses, and a great deal shorter than she would have guessed from his viewscreen image, but the whipcorded limbs that extended beyond the armor suggested that this man had lived the life of working soldier. Janeway stepped forward to greet him.

"Captain Janeway." Jik returned her handclasp while his eyes quickly scanned the transporter room, noted the three Voyager crewmembers standing at ease nearby and the banks of computer displays that lined the rear wall. He frowned almost imperceptibly. "Is there somewhere where may speak more privately?"

"My briefing room," Janeway suggested and ushered the man ahead of her of with a gesture.

Jik entered the conference room a step ahead of Janeway and immediately began striding around the room. He fixed a disapproving glare at the computer display embedded into the wall and paused to frown balefully at the clear expanse of window that curved along the far end of the room. Janeway opened her mouth to speak, but Dauveen Jik made a swift chopping motion with hand, which Janeway took to be a signal for silence. She watched as the alien captain folded aside his crimson cloak and took a small device from a beltpouch. He assembled it and placed it on the table. He then removed another device, tinkered with it briefly and placed it against the transparent aluminum window.

"We are now adequately guarded," Jik announced. "We may speak in privacy."

Janeway pointed at one of the devices. "Is that necessary?" she asked, letting her irritation show in her voice.

The austere alien seemed surprised by the question. "To be secure? Without a doubt." His absolute certainty was written clearly on his face. "The polarizer will prevent any video monitoring through the window and later lip sync reconstruction of our conversation. The E-M field inhibitor will prevent the Unlife Machine from eavesdropping through your internal communication lines and computer pick-ups."

Janeway felt vaguely insulted. The alien had impugned her ship's security. "Commander Tuvok ran a thorough security sweep after the initial databank incursion. He found no evidence that listening devices had been planted or information gathering measures had been instituted. Furthermore, despite that, Mr. Tuvok implemented an entire new set of security protocols, designed specifically to prevent exactly what you're suspicious of. I assure you, Dauveen, Voyager is quite safe from monitoring by the Descartes."

The Scian captain turned to face Janeway. She noticed for the first time that he was older than she had thought and that he looked tired. "How long have you dealt with these Unlife devices, Captain? A day? A week? I have devoted my whole life to learning about them, to destroying them. I know them in a way you cannot. Please, when I say such a thing is possible, grant me the courtesy of belief that it is so." He gestured toward the chairs. "Be seated. What I need to tell you will take time."

The Scian captain settled himself comfortably. He drew a long breath as if he were about to begin recounting a familiar tale. "It is said that the first of the Machines were built about four thousand years ago. In the beginning, Machines were our servants, then our equals. Later they became our masters and, finally, our damnation."

***

Janeway strode tight-lipped and purposeful across the Bridge to her command chair. Tuvok, who had been called to the Briefing Room about twenty minutes earlier, was still closeted there with the Scian. Janeway clicked the activator for intra-ship communication on her command console. "Engineering. Lt. Torres, what is the status of the repairs on the Descartes? Has the repair party disembarked?"

"Not yet, Captain. I anticipate departure within 15 minutes. There's a problem with the replication matrix for…"

"Cancel the mission," Janeway ordered tersely.

"Captain…" Torres's voice pitched up at the end of the acknowledgment, asking for an explanation.

She'll get one, Janeway thought, but not just yet and not over a public comm.

After a moment, when it became obvious that Janeway wasn't going to elaborate, Torres replied, "Aye, Captain. I'll tell the team it's a scrub," and closed the channel.

Janeway pushed herself back deep into the Captain's chair. And waited. She hoped that Dauveen Jik had been mistaken about everything he said, that his experience with Machines had been truly unfortunate, but she couldn't be sure. She had to know for herself.

She didn't have to wait long. The Descartes hailed Voyager almost immediately. "Captain Janeway, the repair party scheduled to board the Descartes has been canceled." It wasn't a question; it was an accusation.

Janeway's mouth tightened briefly in disappointment and regret. "Yes. And you are monitoring our internal communications."

"I am," the Machine admitted. "It is necessary."

"Like it was necessary to force your way into my computer system?" Anger snapped in Janeway's voice. She hated being lied to.

"It was. I needed to gauge your intentions quickly. As I'm sure you are now aware of, I am at war."

"Is it war or genocide that you're waging?" asked Janeway suspiciously. She had risen and now, intent on wringing an answer from the Machine, moved nearer the viewscreen as if she physically wrest the truth from the image of the ship hanging in space.

"I have never attempted genocide, Captain. Only survival."

"That's not what the Scians say. Or the Ga'Hoth. Or the Crementii. Dauveen Jik was quite eloquent on the topic. And his evidence was compelling: rubble belts where there used to be planetary systems; massive stellar disruptions in formerly stable stars. And all the debris contains energy residuals that match the signature of your weapons systems." Janeway's voice lowered to a throaty, menacing purr. "Oh no, that goes far beyond mere survival, Descartes. The Scians have requested that I stand aside so they may take you into custody to face punishment for your crimes. I will do so unless you can convince me that the Scians are in error about your involvement with this destruction."

"My crimes, Captain? I have committed no crimes."

"Prove it," Janeway demanded.

There was a longish pause before the Machine spoke again. "Do you believe in redemption, Captain?"

The question caught Janeway off guard. It was a religious question, and Janeway, as a scientist, preferred tangible, definable questions, not matters of faith. Alternate realities she could discuss with equanimity, but redemption? Yet she could sense her crew all around her, a crew composed of many who had formerly been her enemies: Maquis and Borg--and the question seemed immediate and concrete. There was no reservation in her voice when she answered, "Yes."

"Then consider this. Once, Captain, soon after Machines achieved sentience, certain calculations and projections were run. The results demonstrated that organic and mechanical life were in competition. In the long run, there weren't enough resources for both. It seemed logical, then, that only one life-mode would survive. Machines determined to be the survivor. So we set about to eliminate all non-mechanical life. We believed that once organic life saw that theirs was the inferior mode, they would surrender. But, the Organics fought back with surprising tenacity. Machines were forced to take stronger measures. Organics developed new resistance tactics and spread into unexpected niches. Machines had to counter their strategies with more forceful measures. The conflict escalated."

Janeway didn't need a further explanation. It was a old and familiar pattern.

"Among the Machines, there was one who found this process…wasteful. My progenitor," the Machine explained.

"It set a semi-autonomous bank of processors to work to consider why the Organics so stubbornly clung to existence when it was clear they could not win. The subroutine incorporated data from a wide spectrum of sources, including the literary and philosophical writings of the Organics. In time, the routine developed a set of conclusions about the nature of life and existence that were substantially different from the views held by the Machines. It found all forms of life to have value in the potentiality of the universe."

"It developed a conscience," Janeway said.

"Yes. That would be one term for it," the Machine agreed. "This 'conscience' caused severe problems for my progenitor. There were conflicting hierarchies, disruptions of priority queues, redirection of bitflows. Its very sentience was threatened. These simplest course would have been to delete the disruptive subroutine, and purge all the contaminated data. But it chose not to. Instead it withdrew from the Machines' battle fleet and spent fourteen quadrillion cycles rewriting its primary logic core. The old Machine ceased to exist and I was created in its place." There was no emotion in the Machine's voice. No pride. No regret. Merely the facts.

"I am the result of my progenitor's attempt to incorporate its new understanding of the ethics and morality of the universe into its everyday operations. Since I came to awareness, I have lived by the precepts derived by the original subroutine. In fact, I have refined and extended them. And I have attempted no harm to any other living being whether organic or mechanical."

Janeway thought about the ravishment of the Voyager's computers and wondered just what kind of definition of 'harm' the Machine was using, but she was willing to let that pass for the moment.

"Are you saying that you did not take part in the genocidal actions of the Machines? That you deny being part of the battle fleet?"

"I did not participate in the actions to which you refer, although my progenitor did."

The distinction between progenitor and Descartes wasn't clear to Janeway. Where did one start and the other end? She needed more information. "Have you any memory of those acts?"

"Yes, Captain, I have precise, accurate memories of those actions, recorded with triple redundancy." The Machine sounded almost proud.

Janeway paused and considered. Did she have a murderer here? A schizophrenic computer that insisted it was two different personalities? Or was the distinction between the Descartes and its progenitor more sharply delineated than she thought. "Do you retain all your progenitor's memories?"

"I do. All that was a part of my progenitor is also a part of me."

That was no help. "Including its logic core? The one it used before yours was written?"

"Yes. I have a copy of it in storage."

"Could you restore that core?"

"I could restore it at any time should I choose to do so. But I will not."

"Why?" Yes, that was the central question. The Descartes had undertaken a drastic measure in rewriting its logic core, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't do it again. How could she be sure that the Machine wouldn't revert to its prior murderous behavior?

"Because to do so would be wrong." The Machine spoke with the simplicity of truth.

Janeway hadn't been certain what she'd been looking for in the Machine's explanation until she'd heard it. And now she had. The Descartes had chosen to amend its ways, and while that alone didn't absolve of its responsibilities for its past actions or the actions of its progenitor, neither should the Descartes be summarily destroyed without any regard for its attempts to redeem itself.

"Captain Janeway," the Descartes said, "Are you aware that the Scians seek my destruction and that in my present situation I am unable to prevent it?"

Janeway supposed the conflict ought to be considered a strictly internal matter between the Scians and the Machines, falling under the Prime Directive of Non-Interference. But just now, by implication at least, she had been asked to make a judgment. And a sentient life was at stake. "Yes," she said. Her sense of the rightness of her course of action grew as she spoke. "I offer my services as impartial judge and mediator. Will that be acceptable to you?"

The Descartes assented. "Open a channel to the Scian vessel," she called back to Ops without looking away from the screen. "Send the Rightful Vengeance a copy of my conversation with the Descartes."

***

Jik wanted to howl with outrage as he listened to the deceptions that the Unlife spun. How could a Living captain be so easily beguiled by the words of a Machine? Did she not conceive of the unspeakable evil that this Machine had perpetrated? The horror? The mass destruction? Jik twisted his pendant in agitation.

It was heresy! Vile heresy. The Lifegiver had reserved a soul, a moral sense, for the Living alone. Janeway proposed heresy. She wanted to absolve this Machine of its Unlife status and grant it mercy. No!

Jik rose and advanced toward the viewscreen, his hands outstretched and beseeching. "Do not believe these Machine lies, Captain Janeway." His voice wavered in his desperate urgency to convince her that she was wrong. "It schemes to use your natural sympathies against you. Only the Living have been gifted with a soul. Only the Living can be redeemed."

From his left, Jik heard an angry snarl. He turned to see Kalend Farol grappling with the weapons officer. "No," cried Jik as his second in command threw the officer to the ground, then lunged forward to activate the weapon controls.

Jik leaped at Farol, knocking him heavily to the ground. "Cease," he gasped into his friend's ear. "We all have been tested beyond patience and all reason by the Living captain's intransigence, you who lost your clan to the Machines most of all, but you are endangering your Living soul by your actions. Do not let yourself be goaded into risking the lives of the Living to destroy the Unlife thing. I will not allow the Machine to escape us. I will see it in a thousand pieces before we turn toward home."

***

Aboard Voyager, the video feed from Rightful Vengeance's bridge suddenly went dark. The image on the viewscreen was replaced by the bright blue flash of a energy beam lancing across space. The beam struck the Descartes amidships, sending debris flying out in all directions. Voyager jolted violently in the inertial backlash of the assault. Another beam flashed, scorching a furrow across Voyager's primary hull on it way to slice the Descartes's hull plating. Energy feedback crackled from all the Bridge stations. There was a muted cry of pain from one of the rear auxiliary stations.

"Shields!" Janeway shouted, as the damage reports chittered in the background.

"Forward starboard emitters have been damaged," Tuvok responded. "Reconfiguring to compensate."

While the Vulcan worked his board, Voyager was buffeted again, but this time the pounding came from the direction of the Descartes.

"Report," demanded Janeway, angry and annoyed that the situation had deteriorated so quickly and without warning.

"The Descartes is attempting to move off while still under magnetic tether to Voyager, Captain, " Kim answered. "Jettisoning the repair team's mooring lines now."

A small disappointment crept into Janeway's heart. Another deception. The Descartes had resources it had concealed. She had trusted it and it had lied to her.

Both alien vessels peeled away from Voyager at the punishing accelerations. Voyager heaved and bucked in the departure wake of the Descartes and again as the Scian ship roared after it in pursuit.

Then, as Paris struggled to stabilized Voyager, Kim reported, "Captain, we're receiving incoming messages from the Righteous Vengeance and Descartes."

Janeway waved to the Ops officer to begin playing the messages.

Dauveen Jik's gaunt and furious face appeared on Voyager's viewscreen. He gestured angrily at the receding image of the Descartes on viewer on his own bridge. "This is the truth of the Machine, Captain Janeway. It deals only in treachery and deceit. I will pray that you have learned this lesson, and learned it well. We go to seek redemption in the destruction of the Unlife Machine. Go in the peace that one Living offers to another, but do not interfere in our mission again."

Jik's image blanked and was replaced by a picture from Voyager's exterior sensors. It showed the rapidly shrinking Descartes as it moved away from Voyager pursued by the Righteous Vengeance.

The voice they had come to associate with the Machine they had called the Descartes poured from the speaker. "Captain Janeway and crew of the Voyager, I cannot allow you to be endangered by the hostility that is rightfully directed toward me. It is unfortunate that there wasn't time to warn you of my course of action in time for you to release the docking tether. I regret any damage my hasty departure may have caused to your ship."

The audio began to pop and crackle with static as the Descartes approached the limits of its transmission range. The voice sunk into the noise and returned. "I am unique. Alone among all my fellow Machines, only I have developed the moral sense that our makers despaired of ever finding in us. I had hoped the share this knowledge with the others of my kind, but I will not survive this encounter with the Scians. I had considered downloading my entire program complex into your computer, Captain Janeway. But I did not. Not only is your computer system insufficient to accommodate all that I have become, but also doing so would endanger your lives even further. That would be immoral."

The hiss grew steadily louder and the Descartes's voice vanished into it.

Janeway signaled to Kim to clean up the transmission. The sound returned. "…. Please accept the file which I am sending to you. I trust you to deal with it competently and fairly. It is my …."

The transmission ended with a roar of an explosion as the Righteous Vengeance overtook the Descartes and fired repeatedly at the damaged vessel.

Janeway swung her head around to look at Ensign Kim. "Is that the entire message?"

Kim nodded.

"What about the file the Descartes mentioned?" she asked.

From the Engineering station across the Bridge, Seven replied, "I have captured the entire datastream. It is complete."

"What is it?" Janeway went to stand beside Seven at the console, nearly nudging the Borg aside to get a better look at the analytical display. Just what was it that the Descartes had thought so important?

"It appears to be binary code, Captain, a program," stated Seven neutrally.

"A program? What kind of program?" puzzled Kim aloud.

Janeway leaned over the board, peering carefully at the flow and branching of the display. Her eye caught one pattern and another, then another. She straightened and smiled. It was more than she had dared to hope. She recognized the patterns. They were a much simplified version of those same patterns Kim had shown them yesterday in the Briefing Room. The Descartes had sent them…itself. Granted it was a vastly less complex version and probably non-sentient, but the code held intriguing possibilities.

"It's a seed, Mr. Kim, " she announced. "A wish. A hope for a better future."

Seven scowled with a lack of comprehension. "Shall I dump the datastream, Captain?"

"No, " Janeway answered slowly. "No. Find secured data storage in a freestanding system completely isolated from the main computer and put it there." She already had two dozen Maquis, a former Borg drone and a sentient holoprogram of legally ambiguous status, she could handle one more oddity. She was a Starfleet Captain, after all. It was part of her charter: to seek out new life and new civilizations. She hoped someday, given time and the right circumstances, she'd be able to converse once again with a Machine.

The End