All language subtitles for Star.Trek.Picard.S03E06_EngCP

Obtain and deliver the asset.

All else is expendable.

I will pursue.

Tell me, Jack.

How did you know
they were all Changelings?

I didn't.

This Changeling's been able
to completely replicate

internal human organs.

Which means they could be
anyone,

and we would never know.

Starfleet is compromised

at the highest level.

I have a pair of intelligence
assets on the ground

that I trust,
and they have been busy

gathering evidence
connecting the portal weapon

to something else
that the Changelings want.

The key to
this entire conspiracy

could be inside Daystrom.

Talk now.

Daystrom Station is

guarded by a highly
sophisticated AI system.

But it has flaws.

I brokered for a device
that exploits them.

And you'll give us that device.

- Ro, are you all right?
- They know.

Jean-Luc, you need
to take the ship and run.

It's up to you now.
You finish what I started.

She's heading for the
Intrepid's port nacelle.

- We're being ordered to surrender.
- Surrender? Why?

We're being framed
by the Changelings

masquerading as officers
aboard that ship.

Battle stations!

Starfleet has been compromised.

They're coming for us.

But who, exactly?

Everyone.

Where are they?!

Where are they?

The next ill-defined,
unshapen one of you

that tells me they've yet
to locate Picard...

Mm-mm-mm!

And how exhausted they must be.

As am I, dear.

As are we.

As are our brothers and sisters

who suffer each day

having to wear the faces
of the Federation.

But there will be rest.

There will be a day
of lifeless bodies

burning in space.

Oh, there will be silence again.

Unity again.

Peace again.

But first...

we will have vengeance.

Enough.

Now...

I want the names and locations

of every known associate
of Jean-Luc Picard.

All Starfleet colleagues,
past and present.

Every friend
to whom he might turn.

Every loved one in which
he might seek comfort.

We will scorch the earth
under which he stands,

and the night will brighten

with the ashes
of the Federation.

And from them...

we will rise.

Jack has been having visions,

waking nightmares,
erratic bursts of aggression.

Once he confided in me,
I did a micro-neural scan,

and this was the result.

You're certain?

The portions of the brain
related to cognition,

imagination... all affected.

According to this,
Jack has Irumodic Syndrome.

Inherited from me.

He had nightmares
when he was a boy.

Vivid dreams.

Talked with imaginary things.

I thought he was gifted,

not plagued with
an overclocked brain.

I've given him some medication
to temper the hallucinations...

A neuro-inhibitor.

He's...

all right for now.

It might be decades before
this catches up with him.

Beverly...

Please don't spend time
burdening yourself

when you can unburden him.

Done.

Another one, please, landlord.

Oh. One for my old man,
as well.

We're celebrating.

- Celebrating?
- Mm.

Turns out I'm not crazy.

No. I'm just broken.

And the way I see it, I can
either wallow in self-pity,

or I can be like
those Japanese teacups,

which get put back together
with melted gold.

Or in my case, bourbon.

I think you should
take this seriously.

Oh, I'm being deadly serious.

Quite possibly dead.

Hey, Van Gogh did incredible
things with an enflamed brain,

- so leave me the bottle and a few spare ears.
- Jack...

How did you survive it?

I didn't.

Right. The positronics.

A new fully synth
prototype body.

I don't suppose
you've got another one

in my size, have you?

I lived with Irumodic Syndrome
for decades.

Fate has a way of surprising us.

And you're young, Jack.

If only you were as good
at passing on genetics

as you are wisdom.

For so long, my mother thought
to protect me from you.

To shield me from being
collateral damage

in the life of Jean-Luc Picard.

Irony is...

maybe I was doomed
before I was even born.

Commander Hansen
to Admiral Picard.

Go ahead.

They're here.

Admiral.
Permission to come aboard.

Granted, Mr. Worf.

It's been far too long.

Eleven years, five months,
four days.

Minus your infrequent messages

and the annual bottle
of sour mead.

Sour Mead?

Chateau Picard.

It is quite tart, sir.

Mmm.

Come on, you know
he's not a hugger.

Oh, I know.

But it is just so good
to see you.

- Thank you, Doctor.
- Jean-Luc,

you're never gonna
believe this, but, uh,

this Klingon,
he's been meditating.

The most advantageous
battle stance

- is being one within oneself.
- Whoa.

- Seriously?
- I just said it.

Hey, you.
You all right?

Well, we're alive,
if that's what you mean.

Well, we had a hell of a time
finding you guys.

It gave us extra time
to process the news

that you and Dr. Crusher
are parents.

- It would seem so.
- Admiral,

we must ensure that
Ro Laren's death

was not in vain,

to protect both Starfleet
and her kin.

We have much to report.

It appears our old enemy,

the Changelings, have
re-emerged from the wake

of the Dominion War.

During the war,
they attacked the Federation

with deception and might,

and we retaliated with
a Starfleet-made virus.

There are scars and shame
on both sides.

Starfleet did, however,
deliver the cure

to the Changeling home world,
to the Great Link.

Not without weaponizing a few
zealots in the process.

Ro believed that
whatever they're planning,

it's somehow tied to
Starfleet's Frontier Day.

No better stage on which
to make a statement.

In less than 48 hours.
We're running out of time.

- We have no leads.
- Which is why we must return to the beginning.

To the scene of the crime:
Daystrom Station.

Home to Starfleet's most
off-the-books tech.

Experimental weapons,
alien contraband.

A few months ago, Vadic stole a
handful of classified weapons...

namely, the portal device
you encountered.

Its use
at the recruitment center,

we believe,
was merely a distraction.

To conceal what?

The theft of something else?

Steal the diamonds
so nobody checks on the pearls.

It's obvious. They stole
a weapon ten times more deadly.

So we're looking for
a smoking gun

that no longer exists.

Then we just follow the smoke.

The only way to identify
and retrieve this weapon

is by getting ahold of
Daystrom's project manifest,

its inventory.

Which is heavily redacted
in the files

that Ro was able to gather.

Exactly. But the raw data
should be on a computer

in the station's primary vault.

So we burgle the very
institution hunting us.

Excellent use of
the word "burgle," Admiral.

Since the break-in,

the station has been
mostly unoccupied.

It is patrolled by Starfleet
security every hour,

but the vault itself
is protected by

an astonishingly lethal
AI system.

One that thinks, that adapts.

Fortunately,
we have acquired a key

that should temporarily
disable the system.

Unfortunately,
if this key fails...

Well, instead of finding
one weapon,

we'll be on the wrong end
of many.

Ro believed this missing weapon

to be central to the entire
Changeling conspiracy.

This is the only way
that we can clear our names

and save Starfleet.

So...

any volunteers?

Uh, it's good to see...

Oh, it's great to be seen.

I have gone into battle
with lovers countless times.

- It can be therapeutic...
- I'm not going.

That is a relief.
I was practicing deceit.

Breakups on my homeworld
seldom end without bloodshed.

Okay. Ready.

We warped close enough
to beam you inside

without alerting Starfleet.

Ro's intel had a workaround

for the transport inhibitors.

But we'll have to get you
in and out

before the manual
security patrol.

How much time will we have
to find the weapons manifest?

An hour at best.

Oof.

I hope this key works.

Otherwise we're going
to have to resort to some

old-fashioned Klingon offense.

Captain Riker...

Worf, call me Will.
Come on.

You should know that
I now prefer pacifism

to actual combat.

Energize.

We're all gonna die.

Welcome, Daystrom visitors.

Please identify.

Worf, the key.

- Welcome, Daystrom visitors.
- We've got about seconds before that thing

- stops asking nicely.
- Please identify.

Welcome, Daystrom visitors.

- Please identify.
- Mm-hmm.

Daystrom visitors,

please identify yourselves
immediately

or lethal security protocols
will engage.

Thank you. Thank you.
Have a wonderful day.

And please, no food or beverags

in the research area.

They found us.
How?

We dropped our transponders,
didn't trip the alarm.

Red alert.
Beam our people out of there.

I can't get a lock
on their transport signals.

Those ships just activated
transport inhibitors.

Starfleet vessels are
locking on.

Targeting phasers.

Those are Eschelon-class,
mid-model starships

with a traceable payload.

One hit, if it doesn't kill us,

we'll be able to track

the residual ionic energy
as we flee.

Spoken like a true La Forge.

We need to run
before they realize

who's in Daystrom.

Short of being invisible,

we can't come back.

Not until they're
unable to track us.

Will, listen.

We've got company up here.
We can't get to you.

But I've had an idea.

La Forge, set a new course
for Athan Prime.

Uh, I don't think
that's a good idea.

Starfleet security will be
patrolling this area

in less than an hour.

And we'll be back before then,
Mr. Worf, I promise.

- Weapons lock achieved.
- Captain, we need to go.

La Forge, get us out of here,
maximum warp.

Admiral?

Captain?

We're on our own.

What, exactly,
are they storing here?

Many of Section 31's
most nefarious

- table scraps, it would seem.
- Section 31?

Critical division
of Starfleet Intelligence.

Yeah, I know who they are.

I just didn't know this is where

they were hiding
all the good stuff.

A mighty Klingon taken aback
by the even mightier

attack Tribble.

I see you still find
comfort in humor.

And humor in other people's
discomfort.

You used to poke back.
What happened to you?

All right, all right,
just, gentlemen...

let's just retrieve
the manifest,

figure out whatever weapon
was stolen

and get the hell
out of here... alive.

It's only a matter of time
until security sweeps through

and finds us.

What exactly are we looking for?

We're looking for some kind
of access panel

or security terminal
to the mainframe computer.

What is that?

A holographic crow?

Let us continue our search.

But tread lightly.

We will not be prey.
We will be...

friendly energy.

I don't understand
the world anymore.

There's something familiar
about the crow.

- Yeah, right?
- Like from my nightmares.

I believe this is the mainframe.

What was that?

F-sharp, I think.

I think, therefore I am.

Professor Moriarty.

Greetings...

old friends.

We have arrived at
Athan Prime, Captain.

I've been here before.
This is...

The Fleet Museum.

Every legendary starship.

This is their final
resting place.

The old space dock.

Helm, find a pocket
among the relics.

Let's be a needle
in the haystack.

We're being hailed.

- Good.
- Respectfully, sir, I'm not sure...

On screen.

Geordi!

Listen to me very carefully,
Jean-Luc.

Power down all of your ship's
nonessential systems

immediately.

Geordi, we need your help.

- Commodore La Forge.
- Geordi.

I must admit.
In the nanosecond my body

de- and then reconstructed,

I debated the virtues of
a curt professional handshake,

or an uncomfortable

but long-overdue hug.

And which way will it go?

Admiral.

Sidney.

Sir.

Geordi, allow me to introduce...

Jean-Luc, we don't have
a lot of time.

I'm in the middle of
my third memo to Starfleet

objecting to gathering
the entire fleet

in one location
for Frontier Day.

Not to mention the hundreds
if not thousands

that pass by daily
to view these ships.

Now, sooner or later,
somebody is going to notice

the one that doesn't belong.

You and I need to find
a place to talk, now.

Hey, Sis.

- He's impossible.
- I'll do what I can.

Alandra!

Well, that was warm
and cuddly, wasn't it?

My father and I haven't been
on the best of terms lately.

Sounds like something
we've got in common.

That young man is your son?

Leave it to you, Jean-Luc,

to turn fatherhood into
an intergalactic incident.

I've told you, we haven't just
been running from Starfleet,

but from Changelings also.

- Worf and Riker...
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

You roped them into this, too?

They're trapped inside
Daystrom Station

at this very moment, with
Starfleet circling the water.

You want me to help break them
out of the Federation's

most classified facility?

Which, I'm assuming
for the record,

they broke into?

Look, if you could just clone

our ship's transponder signal,

we could make Starfleet believe

we'd absconded somewhere else.

And lure them away
from Daystrom Station.

First of all,
even if I was willing,

I can't clone transponders
without randomized

Starfleet security codes.

And second... Tell him, Alandra.

Well, despite my father's
many objections,

every ship in this fleet
is now fully integrated,

which means they talk
to each other.

So, you can drop transponder
signals all you want,

but the Titan is a beacon.

It's only a matter of time
before it gets close enough

to alert the other ships.

So that's how they found us.

Sternbach to Cole.

No sign of them in Structure C.

Heading to Deck A
to continue our sweep.

Copy that, Sternbach.

Teams moving to Structure B now.

Can someone explain why
a 19th-century holo-villain

is guarding a 25th-century
black site?

Oh, my dear,

"villain" doesn't
do justice to my complexity,

and only reveals
your simplicity.

Hmm. At least somebody's
consistent.

Go. Go!

This is not the same
self-aware Moriarty

we encountered
on the Enterprise.

More of a holograph,
perhaps a projection.

Security vault's through there.
He's firing live rounds.

If we don't get that
damn door open, we are dead.

B-Flat. D-Flat.

What solvable puzzles
you all are.

You unguarded expressions,

your visible scars.

My, how time has
spun you all apart.

Such pathetic old warriors.

C-Sharp. A-Flat.

Are you trying
to play a song for us?

- Some sort of a tune?
- Yes.

Yes, a maddening melody.

A saccharine song.

One that I cannot get out
of my head.

Marvelous.

How did you know it would work?

I shared that tune decades ago

with another dear friend.

One who dreamt of crows,

and aspired to thwart Moriarty
with the intellect of Holmes.

Somebody who couldn't whistle
worth a damn.

Marvelous.

I want to help you, Jean-Luc.

You, Will, Worf, Beverly.

The best-case scenario,
I'll be court-martialed.

Worst-case,
a compromised Starfleet

will come after my family.
You know that.

- And when that happens...
- Dad.

What about Hangar Bay 12?

- Alandra, please.
- Geordi,

this is life-or-death.

It's always life-or-death,
Jean-Luc.

When has it not been?

Which was fine,
back in the day when

I chose to put my life
on the line

under your command.

But... you've just knowingly

put my daughter in grave danger.

Geordi, I did nothing
of the kind.

Sidney joined Starfleet...

Any luck?

I'm so sorry about this.

You know how stubborn he is.

- Off.
- Mm...

I'm just trying it out.

Ooh.

Let me see.

That one is the Defiant.

Mm, that's the New Jersey.

Oh, wow.

Well, this one is
my personal favorite.

Kirk's Enterprise.

All those perfectly clean
retro lines.

Yep, I'm definitely
a Constitution-class man.

That's a fair amount of history
for somebody

who doesn't give a damn
about Starfleet.

Oh, no,
I've always loved a starship.

Well before I knew anything
about my old man.

Oh.

Oh, she's a beauty.

Which one's that?

The USS Voyager.

She made her name
farther out than...

any of those other relics
had ever gone.

I was reborn there.

She was my home.

Her crew were my family.

And now...

You're just trying
to find another.

We all long for connection.

But we're just a little bit
alone, aren't we?

Stars in the same galaxy,

but light-years between us.

Oh, you are definitely
your father's son.

He, too, has a knack
for the, um,

poetic drive-by observation.

Can be very annoying.

But it can also make a person
feel seen.

Yeah, well, I can't say
being equal parts

irritating and endearing
isn't entirely unfamiliar.

Ah. What's that one?
Is that a...

Is that a Klingon Bird-of-Prey?

The HMS Bounty,

pulled from the bottom
of the San Francisco Bay.

Yeah, right.
The whole whale thing.

Story goes they had
a hell of a time finding it.

It disappeared.

Because the cloaking device
had reactivated.

He wasn't trying to hurt us.

He was trying to communicate.

He was reaching out to us.
He recognized us.

I thought Data died. Twice.

He did.

- This cannot be our Data.
- He appears to be

some kind of hybrid...

Synthetic
with android interface.

But it could be him.

Data copied everything he was
onto B-4.

His memory, personality.
His mind.

And up to now
it's been unrecoverable.

But since the ban on synths
has been lifted,

nothing's impossible.

Looks like after Soong passed,

Starfleet co-opted most of
his unfinished work.

Hmm. They took a keen interest
in your sentient AI friend here.

Hold on.

What's that?

Altan Soong.

Before I gifted Picard
my golem...

my intention was to live
beyond my years.

To become my own legacy.

Now I see, in my final days,

that wasn't just poor humanity,

it was poor science.

Because evolution is not

an act of preservation.

It's addition.

Sidney, she was the hard one.

Just... stubborn.

In truth, she probably
got it from me.

You always want to impart

the best aspects of yourself
to them.

I've recently been reminded that

we are not in control
of what we pass on.

Strengths, wisdom, talent,

and also flaws.

Weaknesses.

Sins of our past.

Into this new golem will go

a bit of Lal, B-4...

of Lore.

And, of course,

a great deal of Data..

This time with the wisdom

and true human aesthetic of age.

With the hope that in totality,

something... someone...

Will rise to be the best of us.

It appears Altan Soong died

before he was able
to complete the project.

The integration effort failed.

All the personalities remain
at odds inside this vessel.

I think back on those days
on the Enterprise,

all the danger we rushed into.

I never feared for my life.

Not the way I fear for hers.

Jean-Luc, I want to help you.

But I can't help you

and protect them.

I'm sorry.

I really am.

We're leaving.

Your father can't help us,

and I must respect his wishes.

However, he wants
to speak with you.

Why won't you help us?

Sidney, sit down.

Now, Jean-Luc and I have
come to an agreement.

You are going to stay here
at the museum with me,

and he is willing to say
that you were

- an unwilling participant.
- But it's not true.

Sid, this is the way
it has to be.

The galaxy is at stake here,
Dad.

I've seen a corpse
that looked just like me.

I know what these Changelings
are capable of.

- We need to leave that to Starfleet.
- I am Starfleet!

I need you to be
thinking about us.

I grew up listening
to your adventures.

All the times you and Picard
stood up for what was right.

- It was a different time.
- No!

It is you and I
that are different.

I'm not Alandra.

I'm not an engineer like you.

You built amazing things,
but me,

I just wanted to fly them.

You took that as me
rejecting you,

but I always thought
it brought us closer together.

You would believe in this
if you believed in me.

Sidney!

Have you any idea how we felt

when this ship went missing?
Hmm?

Now you're out here on the run,

jeopardizing your future,
your entire life.

- I'm on the run with my crew.
- They're not your family.

Yes, they are.
You taught me that.

And I'm not scared
to step up and help them.

You are.

We're almost out of time.

We should return to Daystrom.

Perhaps our only recourse

is to take on
those ships ourselves.

Battle stations?

Sadly, I believe so.

We should find Shaw
and strategize.

So, you staying or going?

- Staying.
- Brilliant.

Oh, just to be clear,
I caused quite a lot of this.

And your sister,
on more than one occasion,

has flown us out
of the mess I made.

Rather wonderfully, I might add.

Okay, let's reset our phasers.

All of which is
a preamble to me asking

two very simple questions.
One...

how well do you know
this museum?

Two... what's your temperance

for some, shall we say...

minor larceny?

So Starfleet installed

an insane AI to defend
its deepest secrets?

They used him because he's
a one-of-a-kind work of art.

Certainly more brilliant than

anything else they can
come up with.

You know, he glitched
when he saw us.

He recognized us, which means...

He sees everything
that comes in and out.

He is not protecting
the manifest,

he is the manifest.

I can see the files.

Data should be able to tell us
exactly what the Changelings

stole from Daystrom.

- Daystrom intruders...
- Security.

You have violated
Starfleet Command

directives 21 through 39...

We have officially
run out of time.

We have to leave now.

Riker to Picard.
Are you there? Jean-Luc,

do you read me?

He does not.

Mr. La Forge,

uh, as a former engineer,
I just wanted to say

what a, what an honor it is
to have you on board.

Captain, your hull is
battered, bruised,

and basically paper-thin.

You're spewing fumes
through layers

of 21st-century duct tape.

Yeah, it's been a weird week.

Which is why,
under better circumstances,

I would gladly geek out
with you over

the marvel of maintenance
and engineering

that this ship is.

Thank you.
Thank you, um,

Bridge to Transport.
See that the La Forges

get home safe.

Captain, we're reading massive
bursts of EM radiation.

What the hell have you done,
Jean-Luc?

Geordi, I assure you...

- Admiral, we're now cloaked.
- Cloaked?

You stole the goddamn
cloaking device

from my Bird-of-Prey?

Geordi, I would never
deceive you,

and I would never steal from...

- Jack.
- Sidney.

- We're phasing in and out.
- It's not installed correctly.

I think we either need to
oscillate the power resonators

- or adjust the reflective index.
- Oh, is that all?

But if we do either
of those things incorrectly

or in the wrong order, it will
create a power feedback

that will cripple the ship
entirely.

Removing the device tripped
an automatic security alarm.

Starfleet is on their way.

Have you any idea, Jean-Luc,
how many Federation treaties

this violates?

Well, I guess they'll just

have to add it to my tab.

We need you.

She needs you.

It's probably not
supposed to do that.

Inducers overheating.
I don't know how to stop

- the chain reaction.
- But I do.

And you...
Stay away from my daughter.

Dad?

We're gonna have
to do this on the fly.

Alandra, get to a long-range
comms terminal.

Tell Mom we're not gonna
be home for dinner.

Come on, kid,
make yourself useful.

Incoming transmission
from Picard.

Admiral.

We're on our way,
Mr. Worf.

We're going to cloak
near the station

to avoid Starfleet detection.

- You have 90 seconds.
- Cloak with what?

My guess:
superior Klingon technology.

We're taking Data with us.

Pulling him offline
will disable security.

Starfleet will pour in,
phasers blazing.

He is correct.
We cannot leave him behind.

The information
that is within him

is key to what's going on here.

The Changelings,
what they stole, what they want.

Tell the Titan to lock on
to an extra set of coordinates.

They have no idea we're here.

If I'm correct,
we'll have to de-cloak

in order to beam them up.

Get ready to lock on
to transporter signals.

Pulling him out now.
30 seconds.

Titan,four to beam up.

Oh, no. We got incoming.
We're not gonna make it.

Yes, you are.

Get our friend out of here.

I got this.

No. Captain!

We're exposed.

Starfleet ships turning to fire.

Evasive maneuvers.

Transporter room,

lock on to the away team.

- Just a few more seconds.
- There. Data's free.

We've lost one transport signal,
but I'm reading another.

You bring over
whoever you've got now.

Worf.

Commodore.

What happened?
Where's Riker?

He was captured.
Transport inhibitors.

He saved us.

We may have lost
one friend in battle,

but we have gained another.

Data.

I will find him, Admiral.

I will bring William Riker home.

And fearful be the god
or man or beast

that stands in my way.

I believe you, Mr. Worf.

Thank you.

I'm sorry about Riker.

Look, I can be a lot of things.

Mostly the prick at the bar who
says things he can't take back.

Maybe... a bit cocky.

A bit?

However...

I think I have
some virtues as well.

I'm mostly caring.

Often tenacious, principled.

I hope.

And occasionally clever.

All of those things,
I get from my mother.

But I can also be brave, loyal,

and far wiser than I have
any right to be.

Until a week ago...

I didn't know where
those traits came from.

Maybe you didn't just
give me some bullshit disease.

Maybe...

you gave me
some of the good bits as well.

Maybe.

I'm not mad at you
for what you did.

I'm disappointed in myself

for not doing what my
younger self would have done.

I'm proud of you, Sidney.

Very proud.

Now, hand me that ionic flow
regulator, will you?

Mm-mm. You need
the focal adjustment spanner.

For the main port.

Right. But...

Why do you think I crashed
so many speeders as a kid?

So I could spend time
with you fixing them.

This is hard.

I've watched Data die twice now.

Data the android.

But this is Data...

something else.

In some kind of miraculous,

almost human positronic body.

Best I can tell,
the different personalities

have yet to be integrated.

I mean, but the information is
all there.

Can he tell us what Vadic
stole from Daystrom?

Assuming he's sane enough
to speak, I believe so.

I can reboot,
but I can't completely

isolate Data, even with
the personality partitions

in place, so...

we just don't know
what we're going to get.

Geordi?

Captain?

Yes.

Data, is that you?

Yes, sir. No, sir.

I...

I am not certain.

- He's like you, Jean-Luc.
- I am Data.

- Synthetic...
- No...

- but...
- I was Data.

Human.

There are many of myself
inside Daystrom Android M-5-10,

but, currently,

one voice speaks to you more...

more fondly than the others.

The evening of the robbery,

something was taken.

Something more deadly

than a portal weapon.

We believe that
you witnessed that event.

Can you confirm?

Can I confirm?
Can I con...

- Is he malfunctioning?
- I don't know.

Memory records indicate
what appears to be

the Changelings' main objective.

Go on.

The project manifest lists
the missing item.

Data, can you tell us
what was stolen?

Jean-Luc Picard.

Yes, Data, I'm here.

I repeat, can you tell us
what was stolen?

Jean-Luc Picard.
Jean-Luc Picard.

Manifest inquiry.

- Jean-Luc Picard.
- Is there a reset switch?

I'm Lore.

I am B-4.

I am Soong.

No, I am more.

Data, it is vital that you
tell us what was taken

from the lab.

What is this?

It is what the Changelings stole
from Daystrom.

Human remains.

Jean-Luc Picard.

You will tell us the location
of Picard and the Crusher boy.

Like hell I will.

Mm.

Hi.

Oh, look at this one.

How much of that goo shit
did they pour into you?

You really think
after 35 years of loyalty

that I'm gonna betray
my friends for you?

No, Captain Riker, not for me.

Oh, Will.

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