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Michael doubled back, looking at the face portrait on the data PADD with former Lt. Truellian, which matched exactly with the hologram before him. He turned to look at Mr. Bradburry, “I take it this is the Lieutenant’s last will and testament?” Michael asked, looking back at the now awkward-looking Rigelian hologram.

“Actually, no…This -is- him.” The administrator answered.

“We think.” The two repeated in unison.

“Huh?” Michael exasperated. Catching himself, he took a step back, “I swear, if I flew all the way out here because you two are pulling a stunt…” he began.

The hologram of Marcus held his hands up, “I promise, this isn’t a stunt, Captain. Technically, that’s me in there…” he motioned to the casket, “…but, I’m also here still. I just can’t explain it all. And with my family and the institute going at it, I don’t have much time left.”

“As I said, captain, it’s all very complicated. I’ve tried to keep the peace as much as I could, but with political pressure now being mounted over this, well, I’m in over my head.” Bradburry exclaimed.

“You’re the program the Doctor was talking about…” Michael recalled aloud.

“Yup.” The hologram responded.

“The same program that had a fault and killed Lieu…him.” Michael further expressed.

“Correct.” Bradburry replied.

“I’m gonna…” Michael started, looking for the next words to say as he tried to piece everything together in his mind.

“How about we head back to my office and discuss this a little further?” Bradburry proposed.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Michael agreed, pointing to the hologram. “You can fill me in on the way there.”

————————————————————————-

[20min Later, Bradburry’s Office]

“Scotch?” Bradburry offered as Michael settled into a sofa in the administrator’s office.

“No, thank you, just Tea please.” He answered, turning back to Marcus. “So, the program projected your consciousness into a hologram, and allowed you to…do everything you once did?”

“Yes, well, no.” Marcus verified. “I mean, the original program pretty much only had me confined to a single room, but I was able to speak and move around like I was having an out-of-body experience. Almost like I was on a holodeck that was simulating the real world outside.”

“Yeah…I’ve had experience with that a few times.” Michael groaned. The whole ‘subject matter expert’ thing was starting to make a lot more sense to him. It was eye-opening to see that command had apparently pinned him as ‘the hologram guy’.

Bradburry came back with two cups in his hand, offering one to Michael, who took it absentmindedly with a polite nod. “So how did you get out of the room and end up with that?” Michael motioned to the Mobile Emitter as he took a sip.

It took everything in him to hold a straight face, as his taste buds were assaulted by the tang of earl-gray, a far cry from the cold, sweet black-leaf tea he was used to. He supposed it was his own fault for failing to elaborate his preference to his host. He looked towards Bradburry and raised his glass, “Maybe I’ll take a splash after all…” he asked, much to the plump man’s delight. Bradburry reached out and tipped his own cup, which was nothing but Scotch, into Michael’s tea for supplemental flavor.

“They never had someone last as long as I have. Most of the people willing to submit to the test were terminally ill or incompatible. Not that -I- personally agreed to any of this, it was my family’s decision, but I mean it worked out in the end…until it killed me. They ended up linking the data-matrix into the city’s holo-projector network…” Marcus explained

“…That’s how I got roped into this whole caboodle.” Bradburry supplemented.

“And then Starfleet sent over this Mobile Emitter to use. I mean, I had never been discharged since my accident, so on paper, I’m still an officer. Past year, I have been working security for various projects around the city, almost like frontier day never happened.” Marcus completed.

“Still, when the Ion storm hit, your mobile emitter should have been fried. How did you not go offline?” Michael inquired.

“I was underground, performing an escort for a mining operation. I woke up that morning around 0700 hours, activated the program, pinned on my mobile emitter, and went to work. I came back around 1900 just to find that I was pronounced dead that afternoon.” Marcus relayed, a hint of hurt and frustration in his voice.

“Did you feel anything different while you were in the mine, when the Ion storm hit?” Michael probed.

“No, we had no Idea. I mean, I kind of short-circuited when we got to the surface, but I never lost consciousness. Hung out with the guys after work, had dinner, and came back to…well…all this.”

“And the doctor wants to shut you down to figure out what happened.” Michael repeated.

“Right, and I mean, I want to know what happened too. But when I deactivate the program, I’d normally return to my body…but that’s not an option anymore. Where am I supposed to go? And they can’t guarantee that they could even get me back online again afterwards, not that it seemed like a priority to them.” Marcus expressed. “It’s surreal enough seeing my own lifeless body lying there on the slab…knowing somehow, I miraculously dodged a celestial bullet…but then to ask me to close my eyes again and hope for the best? Captain, sir…I can’t. I don’t want to let go; I don’t want to die.”

Michael had spent months aboard the USS Fox, surrounded by holographic officers specifically so that he would be unburdened by the emotional weight of others around him. But right now, he wished he were strong enough to truly sense what Marcus was feeling; seeing true sentiment from the man and feeling nothing but a void was so off-putting.

“Tell me, Marcus, what is your family’s stake in all of this?” Michael finally asked, trying to turn the tide of the conversation.

Lt. Truellian wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands before letting out a deep sigh. “They need my personal effects to complete the funeral rites back home. Basically, they burn the body and keepsakes to release the person’s spirit and memory. They do that, and I cease to exist to them. My family was all I had after the accident, and now…if I let them go through with the funeral rites, I’ll have no one left.”

Michael took another drink from his cup. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the weight of the subject matter before him. “Look, I have to meet with everyone else tomorrow so I can get the full scope of what all is going on. And I’m not going to lie to you; this whole thing is convoluted as hell. But Starfleet is not in the business of ending any form of life, at least not ones that aren’t trying to end us. Give me the day to get some things in order, let me get all the puzzle pieces sorted so I can try to piece together what needs to be done here.”

Marcus nodded, “Sorry that you got dragged into this mess, Sir.”

Michael shook his head as he and Bradburry rose from their seats. “This isn’t your fault, Lieutenant. If anything, I’m sorry for you being in the position you’re in.”

“Trade ya?” the Rigelian teased, causing everyone in the room to have a slightly uncomfortable chuckle.

“Good night, I’ll see you both later tomorrow.” The captain addressed, as he excused himself from the office, opting to find his own way to his accommodations for the evening. In truth, he needed the time alone to think and mull over the multitude of angles that were working against one another.

[To be Continued]