**** (4 stars out of 5)
It's a damn shame when people be throwin' away a perfectly good white bot like that!
Voyager happens across 3947, a Pralor Automated Unit right out of Asimov's wet dreams. The robot's just drifting in space, much as that psychopath Lore once did. And Voyager picks it up. Much as a ship load of Pakleds must have done. Once.
Tuvok and Janeway have their doubts, but Torres not-quite literally nurses the robot back to health and sends him on his merry way...
What's that you say, Mr. Roboto? You wanna breed? Breed what? Orchids? That's fine, ask Tuvok if he... sorry? You say you want Torres to help you make babies? Well, that's very understandable, we've ALL been there... oh, baby ROBOTS? Not very likely.
3947 calls Torres a Builder, and when he needs someone to make new hearts for his race of tin men, Torres the Builder says "Yes, we can!"
Of course, Janeway the Wet Blanket says "No, you can't!" Giving strange robots the power of procreation is a textbook Prime Directive No-No.
The Silver-Tongued Devils won't take no for an answer, though they don't have tongues. But they are silver.
What will happen when the gold ones show up?