1x12 Heroes and Demons

[7.6/10] I was worried about this one for a minute. It starts with some of the usual folderol. Oh no, the holodeck is malfunctioning! Oh no, Chakotay has to try to find out what happened to Harry Kim, because we need one of the show’s most boring characters to hunt down one of the others! Uh oh, what’s gonna happen when a bunch of staid Starfleet officers have to navigate a local theater production of Beowulf?

Toss in a technobabble-filled opening act, and a writing credit to Naren Shankar, who penned some of the drier installments of The Next Generation, and I started to be concerned. One of the recurring and, frankly, valid criticisms of Voyager is that it’s often a retread of TNG. At first blush, these are all the sort of problems and beats that Picard’s Enterprise dealt with on the regular.

Except, ten minutes into the episode, “Heroes and Demons” takes a sharp left turn and never (or hardly ever) looks back. The crisis of the week isn’t just a malfunctioning holodeck with an Old English epic running nonstop. It’s that any crewmember who steps in there is transformed into photonic energy. What’s the solution? Send in The Doctor to investigate, since hey, he’s already made of photonic energy, so what’s the worst that could happen.

My big fear about this episode is that it would devolve into a mechanical solution to a mechanical problem. Sure, it’s clever to have your holographic physician deal with a problem in your holographic playpen. But this one starts off with an endless stream of tech talk.

Only, once The Doctor is enlisted, this stops becoming a “science your way to a solution” plot, and starts becoming a character piece. As Kes, who’s more keenly empathetic toward The Doctor than anyone else on board intuits, the doc is nervous about stepping outside of his comfort zone, literally and figuratively. Janeway hypes him up with this as his “first away mission”, investigating a problem in unknown terrain like flesh and blood Starfleet officers do. Suddenly, this isn’t a story about how to fix a holodeck on the fritz. It’s a story about an artificial lifeform pushing his boundaries and discovering new talents and feelings in himself.

Granted, there is also more of the “fish out of water” humor that tends to come to the fore in these “trapped in some different time period in the holodeck” episodes of Star Trek. An uptight, nerdy, somewhat prickly medical professional crossing paths with boisterous, horn-headed warriors is naturally comedic. The episode uses that to full effect, leaning into the laughs of the Doctor awkwardly chowing down on a giant leg of elk or hearing a rowdy room full of Old English hunters chanting the name “Schweitzer!” over and over again. It’s fun to see The Doctor in such an unfamiliar environment.

But at the same time, this is a chance for him to spread his wings a little bit, to start to see himself as a real person capable of more than his original programming, one of the best throughlines for Voyager bar none. His ability to go from solid to permeable at will makes him the toast of the town. His knowledge of herbs and remedies makes him impressive. And his willingness to face down Grendel herself makes him a courageous hero in the eyes of the assembled. For once, this being who’s normally treated as an appliance by his colleagues, is not only treated like a person, but like the protagonist. The effect it has on him is palpable.

Of course, we devolve back into technobabble eventually. It turns out the protostar Janeway and B’Elanna tried to harness in the early going involved accidentally kidnapping a photonic lifeform. The lifeform’s mama bear then kidnapped Harry, Chakotay, and Tuvok in return. So it’s up to The Doctor to return its child and hopefully get his fellow officers back in return. The event itself is neat enough, with some solid effects of the energy being and a cool moment of understanding between two unique life forms bridging the gap between them.

(As an aside, in the wake of Star Trek: Prodigy, it’s a bit of a kick to hear 1990s Janeway talking about a protostar and how to harness its energy.)

But like so much of “Heroes and Demons”, what really matters here is the effect everything has on The Doctor. He’s spurred to act when Freya, a female warrior in the clan, takes a shine to him and is then unceremoniously killed defending his life from a suspicious fellow warrior. They had formed a bond, and it provokes a decisiveness in The Doctor, with a “I’d kill you, but I took an oath to do no harm” proclamation that is one of the most badass things he’s ever said.

And when he succeeds, Janeway gives him one hell of an attaboy, recognizing his great success on his first away mission and in navigating the delicacies of first contact. Her confidence and compliments vindicate his growth as a person and help him to consider the possibilities of what more he could do, and be, as part of this crew.

There’s a potent metaphor at play here. The beauty of Star Trek itself is that it inspires real life people to greatness. With a history of diverse casting in the franchise, a nerdy bent, and an empathetic willingness to accept new life and see the value of each person, these stories help people see themselves as worthwhile “characters”, who have something to contribute to the world in following these models. The Doctors is a stand-in for everyone who watches and is enervated by the show itself.

What The Doctor experiences is fiction, yes, but it also presents a world where his skills are valued, where people like him are given opportunities that aren’t always laid at his doorstep in the real world, which emboldens him to think of himself differently when he returns. More to the point, it helps articulate his feelings in a way he wasn’t able to before. When Freya talks to him about feeling lonely, about how she worries the other members of her clan view her differently, about how that makes her isolated and afraid to speak up, The Doctor recognizes a kinship, an camaraderie, a common understanding that not only draws him closer to her, but helps him realize what he himself is going through.

That is beautiful. My favorite part of 1990s Trek comes when unique life forms grow and discover more of who and what they can be. Data, Odo, The Doctor, all find scenarios where they’re shown empathy, where they push past their typical boundaries, and start to become more whole, more complete beings. “Heroes and Demons” starts out as a dry, rote, technobabble mystery, but ends by showing how anyone can be at the center of these stories, and how they help souls like these, and like us, to realize how much potential they truly have.