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.
SHAW [over comms]: 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.
SEVEN OF NINE [over comm]: 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.
MALE VOICE [over comms]: 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.
GEORDI [calling out]: 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.
FEMALE [over comm]: Sternbach to Cole.
No sign of them in Structure C.
Heading to Deck A to continue our sweep.
COLE [over comm]: 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.
- OFFIER [over comms]: 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.
Captioning sponsored by CBS
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org