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Fabian at the transporters after a while anyway.
G: And this is all that you’ve got?
L: What do you mean, “this is all that you’ve got?” It’ll work. It’s our best shot.
G: I see. Doctor, I’m afraid I have to say no. You can’t do it. You can’t perform the procedure. Federation law is very clear on this point.
L: Excuse me?
G: DNA resequencing and genetic tampering is strictly forbidden, except in cases of serious birth defects. Find another way.
L: There is no other way, Captain. This is it.
G: There has to be an alternative to genetically reengineering the entire population of a planet. Can’t we genetically modify the virus itself?
L: We could have if we’d gotten here early enough, but it’s already in everybody’s system. The damage is already done.
G: What about having the transporter remove the virus itself?
L: Not an option either. It would take far too long to have the computers go through and check for the damage from the virus, and it might introduce errors into the rematerialization. It’s much easier to add the chromosome, and then have it do the necessary work. Besides, your version is genetic modification as well.
G: What does Emmett say?
L: He has no valid opinion.
G: How can he have no valid opinion? How can you say that?
L: He has no valid opinion. His programming won’t account for it; there’s nothing in there about proscribed procedures. He seems to be unable even to consider it. We tried running it past him and he said he was unable to perform the procedure.
G: That settles it. It’s not going to be done.
L: No, Captain. You don’t have a valid medical opinion either.
G: I beg your pardon?
L: You have no idea as to what can or can’t be done, what should or should not be done. The only thing you’re willing to put faith in is what people in a little office on the other side of the galaxy are dictating to you.
G: No negotiation, Doctor. This is what you have to do. Do it by the book.
L: You’re an idiot. I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re being a fool.
G: You’re not a free agent in this. You’re lucky that you are allowed to practice medicine at all right now.
L: Oh, really?
G: Yes. I’m sorry, but—
L: Computer. Voice ID, Doctor Elizabeth Lense.
C: Voice ID confirmed.
L: Captain David Gold is becoming agitated and overwrought, and is showing signs of clear cognitive difficulties. Under Starfleet Medical Regulation 121, Section A, I am preparing to relieve him of command.
G: What?!
L: Emmett, activate. Wake up.
EMH: Good afternoon, Doctor.
G: Doctor—
L: The captain is becoming very agitated. Prepare a sedative—two ccs of damitol.
G: What do you think you’re doing?
L: I may need your assistance in restraining him, Emmett. Don’t hurt him—he’s obviously confused. Possibly delusional.
G: Dear God, you’re serious.
L: Serious as a mass grave. Which is what I’m going to have if I don’t get back to work here.
G: Don’t be a
putz,
Doctor. I can’t let you do this.
L: Let me put it to you in simple, easy-to-understand words, Captain. There is a plague ravaging the population of the planet below us. I am the closest thing to a functioning medical authority within a light year, which makes every person down there my patient. I have prescribed a regimen of treatment which, according to my ability and judgment, I consider for the best benefit of my patients. And I have a person up here who is attempting to prevent me from saving their lives.
G: I want their lives saved, too, but you’re mutating them!
L: You see? You don’t even know what I’m doing. You have no idea. All you can do is help me do this or get out of my way. You can’t do it by yourself.
G: Doctor, I would be very careful if I were you. This is mutiny. Comput—
L: Shush shush shush. Understand me, Captain. You need me right now a lot more than I need you.