Cybersong by S. N. Lewitt

He would never report it. He would be too ashamed. And she still had the weapon, fully charged. Quickly she concealed it under her tunic. Only then did she realize that she was shaking with pure rage.
    Kes realized that she’d forgotten the rage. That she had suppressed it, that she hadn’t felt lonely at all. No, she had felt angry.
    Angry, and very afraid, but ready to defend herself no matter what she needed to do.
    This was the holodeck on Voyager, she told herself. Everything she had experienced was part of the past. It lived in memory, even her anger was only a memory. There were no Kazon here. As she tried to calm herself in cool darkness, she heard footsteps.
    “Don’t try it,” she said, amazed at the menace her voice carried.
    “It’s me,” The Doctor answered. “It seems that you have experienced a therapeutic catharsis before I could even begin to take notes.” He sounded disappointed.
    “Program off, keep medical hologram running,” The Doctor ordered.
    “And some furniture, a sofa and some chairs,” Kes suggested.
    The holosuite complied. “Do you want me to lie down?” Kes asked.
    “No, I don’t believe that’s necessary,” The Doctor replied. They both sat down before he continued. “You reacted very strongly in there.
    You showed a great deal more defiance and courage than anyone could have expected.”
    “I’m surprised at it myself,” Kes agreed. “The odd thing is, in my dream I was terribly, horribly lonely. All I wanted was someone to talk to. And here, today, all I wanted was to kill him.” She shuddered delicately at the thought and perched uneasily on the edge of a light green chair.
    The Doctor sat down facing her from the sofa. He clasped his hands on his lap and waited for her to continue. Kes took a deep breath and began again.
    “The real question is, I don’t recall feeling lonely at all,” she said slowly. “In the real memories I was angry and afraid and determined.
    So why did I dream about feeling lonely? Why was that so important?”
    The Doctor looked at her quizzically. “There could be several explanations for that. It could be that you’re feeling isolated here on Voyager, and you can’t accept that, so you’re trying to assign the feelings to another part of your life.”
    Kes blinked in surprise. “But I’m not isolated at all here,” she said.
    “I have more friends than I’ve ever had in my life.
    You’re a wonderful friend and a teacher. And I’m with Neelix.
    No, that doesn’t fit.”
    “Odd,” The Doctor countered. “Among the more empathic races, this kind of reaction is often considered to be generated outside the subject.
    But we don’t know for sure if the Ocampa are empathic.” Kes settled into her chair and paused to consider The Doctor’s remarks. There were traditional Ocampa stories that sounded like the kind of empathic experiences of Betazoids. And it was well known that Betazoids could mistake others’ projected emotions for their own, if they were not properly trained.
    “According to Jarzeman Anla, the classical Betazoid authority on empathic behavior, if you try to think of the feelings as outside of yourself, as something you are receiving rather than generating, you will have some distance from them. The feelings will not go away, but they won’t affect you so strongly.” The Doctor stood up abruptly. He seemed ready to end the session.
    But Kes wasn’t. Not yet.
    “What if they are my feelings?” she asked quickly.
    “Then the exercise shouldn’t affect you at all,” The Doctor reassured her rather too briskly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he continued, making a face. “I undoubtedly have some ski injuries awaiting me in sickbay.” Kes barely acknowledged The Doctor as he exited the holodeck. She was too busy considering his suggestion. He was right, thinking could not hurt her. And even if it could, she had stood up to bigger, to stronger adversaries.
    Surely nothing in her own head could mean her