Chapter Twelve: Fix What's Broken

 The light, high-pitched hum of the dermal regenerator snapped off as Dr. Torgas released the control stud. Captain D'arko rolled his arm at the shoulder, testing the doctor's work. Small twinges of pain and numbness alternated with the movement.

"I recommend resting it for a while, Captain. You'll have some tingling for a day or two, but function will be normal."

"Thank you,. Doctor," D'arko said.

"I do want you to check in with me immediately if you find yourself with any sudden cravings for brains," Dr. Torgas laughed.

Da'mi'en's antennae lowered as he glowered at the doctor. Under normal circumstances, He'd likely have found this as amusing as it did, but the situation made no sense. Holodecks had so many safety protocols, one should never be injured unless those protocols were shut off by a senior officer. Even if that had been the case, once a program was frozen, there should be no possible way for it to become reactivated unless the person who had called for the freeze initially to call for it to resume.

Yet, that is exactly what had happened.

The door to sickbay slid open and Crad hurried in.

"Starr told me what happened, Sir. I have a team performing a level one diagnostic of all holodeck and holosuite systems. As soon as we find anything. I'll report."

"I'm sure, Chief. My question is: have you ever heard of anything like this occurring before? That holocharacter acted almost like it was lying in wait until I was close enough to bite. It would be one thing if the simulation had been currently active, though that behaviour wouldn't be inline with the character's parameters. With the simulation frozen, though... it's almost like that particular character was... I don't know... pretending?"

Dalton Crad scratched at his neck.

"No, Sir. I've worked on holo systems of every age still in service, and the ones on Pendragon are state of the art since the refit. In my experience, this is something completely new."

D'arko scratched his chin through his goatee. He then tapped his commbadge.

"All stations, this is the Captain speaking. Due to unscheduled maintenance, until further notice, all holodecks and holosuites will be off-limits except for on-duty engineering teams. That is all."

As Captain D'arko opened his mouth to speak again, his commbadge chirped to interrupt.

"Klortho to D'arko."

Klortho's voice was rough with irritation, though, to be fair, D'arko always found it to sound that way.

"D'arko."

"Captain, in regards to your announcement, the Wadi delegation were actually on their way to holodeck three when you made it. They are... insistent."

Ever since the first encounter with the Wadi shortly after the discovery of the Bajoran wormhole, their reputation for the enjoyment of games and diversion had been somewhat legendary within the Federation. The Wadi definition of games and gaming was, however, a little unusual, as it often involved seeming terminal consequences for the losing side. So far, there had been no record of any actual fatalities, but, well, one could never be too sure when it came to them.

"Please express my apologies to the Wadi, Mr. Klortho, but this is for their own safety. A recent malfunction has to be traced down and repaired before I will allow the holo-entertainment systems to be used again. D'arko, out."

D'arko looked again at his chief engineer.

"Go fix what's broken, Chief."

Crad stammered a moment, then left.

"Doctor," the captain said, "do you have anything for a migraine?"

Torgas smiled, "I know you can't get migraines, Captain, but..." 

The doctor walked back to its desk and pulled out a drawer, producing a bottle of incandescent orange liquid and two shot glasses.

"Denobulan port will fix what ails you," it said, pouring two glasses.

D'arko downed his shot quickly, liquid fire scorching his gullet.

"Why, Doctor, are you trying to get me drunk?"

The Doctor's smile broadened.