[Utopia Planetia Shipyards Mars 2385 14 years ago]

COMPUTER: Attention, all personnel. Happy First Contact Day. Celebrations will be held in designated recreational areas during regularly scheduled alpha and beta shift breaks.
COMPUTER 2: All directors, please submit final duty logs prior to shift change.
(A man walks down a corridor and opens a door.)
COMPUTER 3: Sector 3 maintenance regulators will report to mandatory security training.
PINCUS: Good morning, plastic people.
SYNTHS: Good morning, Mister Pincus.
PINCUS: Let's go to work.
(The androids march out. Each has a designation printed on its forehead.)
COMPUTER: All A500 maintenance issues should be reported to Synthetic Personnel supervisors prior to initiating manual shutdown proceedings.
WOMAN: Every other tri-hy station in the yard gets off First Contact Day. Not us. What'd we do wrong?
MAN: To have a skeleton crew, you have to have skeletons.
WOMAN: I bet my kids are having cake on Earth.
(An android enters.)
WORKER: Yo, F8, you get into any trouble last night?
F8: Hell yeah.
WORKER: Oh, yeah? Doing what?
F8: Nothing.
WORKER: Hell yeah.
F8: Hell yeah.
MAN: Hey, F8, I got one for you. What's brown and sticky?
F8: Teratogenic coolant. Isonucleic residue. Boson-enriched nanopolymer.
MAN: A stick.
(F8 imitates a broad grin.)
MAN: You get it?
F8: No.
(F8 leaves.)
WOMAN: Dude creeps me out.
WORKER: Hey, he can hear you.
WOMAN: And? You can't offend them. They're not people.
WORKER: And they can rip through solid titanium without breaking a sweat.
WOMAN: What are you, his sister? Ugh, who raised you?
(A shuttle takes off.)
COMPUTER: Report to primary reactor control sector. Sector 3. Hazard protocol in effect until further notice.
(Later, a meal is replicated.)
WOMAN: I wish they'd go back to using uno-amino matrices in the replicators.
MAN: No kidding.
WORKER: Space pineapples again. Nice.
(F8 is listening.)
WORKER: I know what's brown and sticky.
(F8's irises twirl, it goes to a control panel and enters instructions.)
WORKER: This food is brown and sticky.
WOMAN: Now, here is some brown, sticky shit.
WORKER: Amen.
MAN: Did you replicate flies with that, too?
(The woman designated Worker turns round and sees F8.)
WORKER: What are you doing?
COMPUTER: Security alert. Multiple synthetic labour units have been compromised.
MAN: Hey, get away from there.
(F8 crushes his windpipe without even looking round.)
COMPUTER: Deflector shields down in all sectors of Utopia Planitia. Repeat, security alert.
WORKER: Shit.
COMPUTER: Multiple synthetic
(Satellites turn to face Mars.)
WORKER: Central, this is tri-hy station A19. Synth unit F8 has been compromised. We have a man down. Repeat, we have a man down.
(She tries to take a swing at F8 with heavy metal tool, and gets lasered along with her colleagues. Security enters.)
GUARD: Stand down!
(And dies instantly. The attack seen in Children of Mars has begun.)
COMPUTER: Grid failure detected. Move immediately to designated safe zones. Security grid failure in progress. Containments have failed. Evacuate immediately. Orbital defence system compromised. Emergency evacuation protocol in effect. Cascade failure in progress.
(F8 shoots itself in the head.)

[Study]

(Morning at Chateau Picard. Loris and Picard are reviewing the images of the rooftop attack.)
COMPUTER: Surface scans negative. No matter or trace elements consistent with Dahj Asha are present.
PICARD: They erased her.
LORIS: And then they erased themselves.
ZHABAN: Well, it's certainly Tal Shiar's operational style, but
LARIS: On Earth? Not even the Tal Shiar would have that audacity.
PICARD: Then who?
(Zhaban shakes his head.)
LORIS: It has to be. Zhat Vash.
ZHABAN: And here we go.
PICARD: What is Zhat Vash?
ZHABAN: A Tal Shiar myth. It's a kind of boogeyman they use to frighten new recruits, and children.
PICARD: Please explain.
LARIS: Here in the Federation, you refer to the Tal Shiar as the Romulan secret police.
PICARD: Mmm hmm.
LARIS: But it's a bit redundant. You could put the word secret in front of almost any aspect of Romulan culture. I have heard, and I have reason to believe, that the Tal Shiar is merely a mask worn by another, far older cabal. That before the Tal Shiar, there was the Zhat Vash.
(We are shown a building in a city.)
ZHABAN: Zhat vash is a term sometimes used to refer to the dead, the only reliable keepers of secrets.
PICARD: Ominous.
LARIS: No, fitting. Because that's the sole purpose of the Zhat Vash. To keep a secret so profound and terrible just learning it can break a person's mind.

[Apartment]

(Picard and Laris beam into that building.)
LARIS: Are you sure she said that he was murdered here, in her apartment?
PICARD: She did. All apparent evidence to the contrary.

[Study]

PICARD: Would it be foolish to ask what is the dread secret that the Zhat Vash are keeping?
LARIS: No one outside the Zhat Vash knows for sure, but I've heard whispers.

[Apartment]

PICARD: Romulan methods of forensic molecular reconstruction are illegal in the Federation.
LARIS: Really? I had no idea.
PICARD: Yeah. They're also unreliable, and, er, the results are dubious at best.
LARIS: Ah, yeah. That's exactly what we wanted you to think.

[Study]

LARIS: When I was a new recruit, one of my first handlers...
ZHABAN: My mother.
LARIS: ..got drunk on Romulan ale...
ZHABAN: My father.
LARIS: ..and let slip that at the heart of the Zhat Vash mission was a deep, unassuageable loathing.
PICARD: A loathing of whom?
LARIS: Not whom. What.

[Apartment]

(Laris' molecular reconstruction reveals Dahj and her boyfriend on the sofa, drinking.)
CALER: More wine?
DAHJ: Surprise me.
CALER: Dahj, your replicator menus are tragic.
(And ends.)
LARIS: That's extraordinary.

[Study]

LARIS: It's said they operate without regard for treaty or jurisdiction. And not just in Romulan worlds, but in the Klingon Empire, the Gorn Hegemony, even the Federation itself. And that they have kept this secret for thousands upon thousands of years.

[Apartment]

LARIS: Oh, the cheeky fuckers. They've overwritten the particle residuum.
PICARD: Overwritten it?
LARIS: Yes. And in a very sophisticated way. It's barely detectable. It would read as instrument failure if you didn't know better, but it's not. It's a flat-out wipe.
PICARD: Can you recover it?
LARIS: Er...

[Study]

LARIS: Have you never noticed the complete absence of any form of artificial life in Romulan culture? We don't have androids or AIs. We don't study cybernetics. Our computers are limited to purely numerical functions.

[Apartment]

LARIS: They must have saturated this place in antileptons. At no small risk to themselves, by the way. This place hasn't just been cleaned, Admiral. It's been scrubbed.
PICARD: Is that to be expected of your Zhat Vash?
LARIS: Well, they're not my Zhat Vash, and I thought you didn't believe in them.
PICARD: I may be coming around.

[Study]

PICARD: So, then all this is about the Zhat Vash hatred of androids.
LARIS: It's not simply hate. It's hate and fear and pure loathing for any form of synthetic life.
PICARD: Why?
LARIS: That I can't tell you. I don't know. But I am certain that is the silence that seals the mouths of the Zhat Vash, as surely and eternally as death.

[Apartment]

LARIS: The operatives who did this wouldn't have wanted to leave the impression that the place had been scrubbed. We may find they've neglected something. Some actual clue that lay tucked inside a false clue, as it were.
PICARD: Something like this, for example?
(Picard picks up a long slim metallic device from the table. Laris calls up a holographic display from it. Call logs.)
LARIS: There's no record of any incoming or outgoing calls. The information's there, but the indexes have been surgically deleted. There's no way to sort the data. Essentially, they've sterilised it, so that it's qualitatively agnostic. There's no distinction. Everything looks like everything else.
PICARD: All we need is a record of any contact that she may have had with her sister.
LARIS: Mmm, and no doubt it's in here, but it will look the same as everything else. No, it won't. It will look like her. Like Dahj. What's her name? Doctor Jurati. She said that they would be identical twins, right?
PICARD: Even closer than twins, perhaps.
LARIS: Okay. So what's the first thing you do when you bring a new digital assistant online?
PICARD: Introduce myself.
LARIS: Exactly. Computers like efficiency, so what a computer does is build heuristics, shortcuts to the tasks it performs most often.
PICARD: You're saying that if they were indistinguishable, then the machine, at some point, could have mistaken the sister for Dahj.
LARIS: Exactly. And if it did, even for a few seconds before it flagged the error, then the tags might still be in here, overlooked by even the most diligent of scrubbers. Got you. Okay. These were all outgoing. And these were incoming.
PICARD: It's her. Ghosts in the machine. Can you tell me where she is?
LARIS: No. But I can tell you where she isn't. Non-local information packets are routed through subspace relays. This routing leaves tiny but unmistakable code marks.
PICARD: Non-local?
LARIS: I'm saying this transmission came from off-world.
PICARD: Are you certain?
LARIS: Wherever this girl was calling her sister from, it's nowhere on Earth.

[Artifact - Personal quarters]

NAREK: Beautiful? No one's ever said that before about a Borg Cube.
SOJI: This isn't a Borg cube, Narek. It's the Artifact. A Borg cube is mighty and omnipotent. The Artifact is lost, severed from the Collective. Broken. Vulnerable.
NAREK: You find vulnerability and brokenness beautiful.
SOJI: Is that strange, to find beauty in imperfection?
NAREK: It's certainly not very Romulan. But then, there's nothing very Romulan about this place at all.
SOJI: Apart from the current owners and the profits you extract from the exploitation of Borg technology.
NAREK: Are you a subversive, Doctor Asha, sent by our enemies to foment revolution among the researchers?
SOJI: Yes, I am. But it's too late now. You already slept with me. That makes you an accessory to my plot.
NAREK: Hmm. Clearly I'll have to silence you.
SOJI: Try it.
(Beeping interrupts the love-making.)
SOJI: Time for work.
NAREK: Yeah. Me, too.
SOJI: Oh, you have a job? I thought you were just some Romulan lounge lizard.
NAREK: Oh, we all have our part to play.
SOJI: Can I ask you a question?
NAREK: Sure. Just don't expect an answer.
SOJI: Are we allowed to be sleeping together, or is that a secret?
NAREK: Very much the latter.
SOJI: Is everything Romulans do a secret?
NAREK: Ooo, I'm not at liberty to divulge that.
SOJI: Is your name actually Narek?
NAREK: It's one of them.
SOJI: So is there anything you can tell me about yourself?
NAREK: Yes. I'm a very private person. So, see you at the Checkpoint?
SOJI: Oh, really?
NAREK: I need to see how it works.
SOJI: In your new capacity as...?
NAREK: (Romulan) Can you keep a secret?
SOJI: Yes.
NAREK: Good. So can I.

[Patio]

(Arranging flowers in a vase in the evening.)
MORITZ: He said I'd find you out here.
PICARD: Moritz.
MORITZ: Hello, Jean-Luc.
PICARD: It's been a very long time.
MORITZ: Too long.
PICARD: I know there was a bit of trouble with the remote medscan, but I hardly expected a house call. Let me just er... (picks up tea tray) Your office told me they would be forwarding the certificate for interstellar service as soon as you had seen the results. (silence) Oh, I see.
MORITZ: You might want something stronger.
(A little later.)
MORITZ: Your medscan came in at or above Starfleet minimums in every category. Cardiovascular, metabolic, cognitive. For a relic, you're in excellent shape. Just that little abnormality in the parietal lobe.
PICARD: I was told a long time ago that it might cause a problem eventually.
(Irumodic Syndrome? See All Good Things.)
MORITZ: Loss of appetite, mood swings, unsettling dreams? Inappropriate displays of anger on interplanetary news holos?
PICARD: What do you think it is?
MORITZ: I'd need to run more tests. It could be one of a number of related syndromes.
PICARD: Prognosis? Come on. Let's have it, Doctor Benayoun.
MORITZ: A few are treatable, but they all end the same way. Some sooner than others.
PICARD: I see. I need you to certify me to Starfleet as fit for interstellar service. Now, will you do it?
MORITZ: I don't suppose you'd condescend to tell me why. Secret mission? We certainly had our share of those on the Stargazer, didn't we? Remember that time in the fireforest on Calyx, we
PICARD: Doctor Benayoun. Forgive me.
MORITZ: You really want to go back out into the cold, knowing
PICARD: More than ever, knowing.
MORITZ: I don't know what kind of trouble you're planning to get into. Maybe if you're lucky, it will kill you first.

[Starfleet HQ]

(Picard beams in through one of a line of arches in the plaza. Humans and aliens with a mixture of DS9 and Voyager style uniforms throng the area.)
COMPUTER: All visitors must report to the main security desk. All visitors must report to the main security desk.
(A large hologram of NCC1701 hangs over the foyer, then it changes to NCC1701D.)
MAN [OC]: Admiral Gurdy, please report to Conference Room B. Admiral Gurdy, please report to Conference Room B.
PICARD: Hello. I er, have a meeting with the CNC. I have an appointment.
ENSIGN: Of course, sir. May I have your name, please, sir?
PICARD: Oh. Er, Picard. P-I-C-A-R-D. Jean-Luc.
(The Ensign puts a visitor badge on the reception desk.)
ENSIGN: Ah. It's nice to see you up and around, Admiral. Welcome back.

[Admiral Clancy's office]

(Doorbell.)
KIRSTEN: Come. (door opens) Ah. Jean-Luc.
PICARD: Kirsten. Hello. May I?
(he sits)
KIRSTEN: Apparently, you have urgent Federation business. I understood you to have left affairs of state behind.
PICARD: I am staying as far from it all as I can.
KIRSTEN: So then what can I do for you?
PICARD: Bruce Maddox.
KIRSTEN: What about him?
PICARD: I believe that he is using neurons from the late Commander Data to create a new organic synthetic.
KIRSTEN: Well, that's not far from all of it, it is all of it.
PICARD: The Romulans are involved.
KIRSTEN: This gets better and better.
PICARD: Commander Data was not only my colleague, he was my dear friend, and he gave his life, body and soul, to the Federation. And if there is a chance that some part of him still exists, then I think we have an obligation to investigate.
KIRSTEN: There is no we, Jean-Luc.
PICARD: Kirsten, I know we have not always seen eye to eye. Nevertheless, I have a request to make. Based on my years of service, I want you to reinstate me, temporarily, for one mission. I will need a small warp-capable reconnaissance ship with a minimal crew, and if you feel that my rank makes me too conspicuous, well then, I am content to be demoted to Captain.
KIRSTEN: The sheer fucking hubris. You think you could just waltz back in here and be entrusted with taking men and women into space? Don't you think I was watching the holo the other day along with everyone else in the galaxy?
PICARD: I should not have spoken in public.
KIRSTEN: The Romulans were our enemies, and we tried to help them for as long as we could, but even before the synthetics attacked Mars, 14 species within the Federation said, cut the Romulans loose, or we'll pull out. It was a choice between allowing the Federation to implode or letting the Romulans go.
PICARD: The Federation does not get to decide if a species lives or dies.
KIRSTEN: Yes, we do. We absolutely do. Thousands of other species depend upon us for unity, for cohesion. We didn't have enough ships left. We had to make choices. But the great Captain Picard didn't like his orders.
PICARD: I was standing up for the Federation, for what it represents, for what it should still represent.
KIRSTEN: How dare you lecture me?
PICARD: Ignore me again at your cost.
KIRSTEN: My cost?
PICARD: You are in peril, Admiral.
KIRSTEN: There's no peril here, only the pitiable delusions of a once-great man desperate to matter. This is no longer your house, Jean-Luc. So do what you're good at. Go home. Request denied.

[Artifact]

WOMAN [OC]: All those entering Grey Zone are required to wear protective gear. Security badges must be visible at all times.
SOJI: (to a Trill) Here, let me help you with that.
(Fasting her overalls.)
NAASHALA: So embarrassing. Thank you.
SOJI: Are you new here? I haven't seen you around.
NAASHALA: Yesterday. My residency was supposed to start six months ago, but the Romulan Free State revoked it when I was halfway here. I have no idea why, or why they finally reinstated it.
SOJI: Well, that sounds about right. They still don't have a clear idea of how much damage this cube sustained, or maybe they do and they just aren't telling, but, anyway, you don't want to cross over into the Gray Zone without this turned on.
(Hexagonal badge / detector.)
SOJI: Don't worry, you're gonna be fine.
(Some wag has put up a sign - This facility has gone 5843 days without an assmiliation - in several languages.)
SUPERVISOR: Morning and welcome to Ops Cycle 9834
SOJI: Here we go.
SUPERVISOR: As guests of the Borg Artifact Research Institute, your safety is important to us. You are standing inside one of the most destructive weapons ever known, and though no longer active, it remains potentially dangerous. Please don't venture outside of your designated research area. Assume that any fixture or instrument not personally known to be benign is malignant.
SOJI: Romulans are into drama.
SUPERVISOR: You may not remove any object...
NAASHALA: Who is that?
SOJI: That's Narek. He's new here, too.
NAASHALA: I didn't know Romulans could be so hot.
SUPERVISOR: ...from the Gray Zone will result in the full prosecution..
SOJI: Me either.
SUPERVISOR: While in the Gray Zone, you are likely to encounter former members of the Borg Collective.
NAASHALA: (sotto) Are you researching the xBs?
SUPERVISOR: Please maintain a safe distance.
SOJI: It's a little more hands-on.
SUPERVISOR: And if your gradient badge starts to blink green, run.
(A bulkhead starts to open.)
SOJI: Don't worry about it.
(They get scanned as they move forward. Announcements are made in Romulan.)
SOJI: Narek, this is
NAREK: Doctor Naashala Kunamadestifee of Trill Polytech. The Institute is eager to see your work bear fruit, Doctor.
NAASHALA: How likely is the Collective to reestablish a link to your Borg? Is it... is it really wise to release them?
SOJI: They're former Borg, and we're not releasing" them, we're reclaiming them. the Collective immediately severs its link to the afflicted population. As far as the Collective are concerned, this is just a graveyard.
SOJI: And what does that make us?
NAREK: The same as you find in any graveyard. Some have come to feed on the dead, some are ghosts, and a few, like you, Doctor Asha, have pinned their hopes on resurrection.
(Naashala walks forward to the scanners.)
NAREK: May I join you for the procedure? I'd... I'd like to see you work.
SOJI: That's not up to me. You need approval from the Director of the Borg Reclamation Project.
NAREK: Hmm. Actually, I don't.

[Great Hall]

(Complete with fire burning in massive stone hearth. Agnes is reading The Complete Robot by Isaac Asimov. Picard brings in a tea tray.)
PICARD: Ah. You have a taste for the classics, I see. I never really cared for science fiction. I guess I just didn't get it. Well, thank you for coming over.
AGNES: Yeah. It's hard to tear myself away from the action at my lab, but
PICARD: Er, your preference? We have a selection.
AGNES: Earl Grey?
PICARD: I knew there was something about you.
AGNES: I gathered up er... everything I could find from Maddox's tenure at the Institute. Most of what was there got blackboxed after he disappeared, but they left some of the ancillary stuff untouched. I was thinking about the painting. Bruce and Data were friends after a fashion. If Bruce is using Data's neurons to make more synths, it would make sense to model them after the painting Data made.
PICARD: Indeed.
AGNES: I also did a little digging into Dahj Asha. You're right. She was accepted at Daystrom. In fact, she was a perfect candidate. In hindsight, a little too perfect.
PICARD: Her credentials were bogus?
AGNES: It's more insidious than that. I checked with Regulus. Their records show she was enrolled there and her grade transcripts are on file.
PICARD: So she was what she claimed to be?
AGNES: She was a complete work of fiction. There's no record of her having actually attended R3SA. I'm no forensics maven, but my sense is that her entire identity was built all at once, about three years ago.
PICARD: By whom? Bruce Maddox?
AGNES: He certainly had the ability.
PICARD: Motive?
AGNES: I don't know. People in the synthetic humanoid field tend to get a little secret-planny.
PICARD: Milk?
AGNES: Er, yes, please.
(No, not with traditional black tea Earl Grey. It doesn't go well with the oil of Bergamot.)
AGNES: Thank you.
(She taps at her small holo-pad.)
AGNES: There you go.
PICARD: Oh, thank you.
AGNES: It breaks my heart that I never got a chance to meet her. Such a wondrous thing. And the damn Romulans just wiped her away. You asked me what the plan was, what she was after at Daystrom. I don't think that's the most relevant question right now. I think the question you should be trying to answer is
PICARD: What about the other one?
AGNES: If she's really out there, and if the Romulans haven't gotten to her too, then where is she? And what is she after?

[Borg reclamation]

(Removing an arm from a torso.)
KABATH: Continuing procedure on Patient 8923/3, one of the Nameless. Time in regenestasis, 14 years. Arm implant was successfully removed. Initiating ocular harvest procedure on Nameless.
SOJI: You know I hate it when you use that term.
KABATH: You may have mentioned that once.
SOJI: Why do you call them the Nameless? Their species had a name. We just don't know what it was.
KABATH: Nameless is a name. Removing ocular processing core. Tertiary mandible implant containment complete. Tagged for level 10 storage. Interlinked transceiver node confirmed inactive. Tagged for level one disposal.
SOJI: (Romulan) You are free now, my friend.

[Chateau Picard]

(The clock strikes 9. Picard takes a UFP engraved box from his study desk and goes outside. There he pins a TNG Starfleet communicator to his jersey, and taps it.)
PICARD: Raffi, it's Jean-Luc. Please, don't hang up. I need your help. I need a ship.

[Oh's office]

(Ground floor, nice view of trees. Tamlyn Tomita has finally moved across from Babylon 5 and put on pointed ears.)
OH: Picard again? And we all thought that he was safely mothballed on that vineyard of his. All these years. The Hermit of La Barre. Now suddenly he is inescapable.
KIRSTEN [on screen]: That's one word for what he is. Going on and on about advanced synthetics, Bruce Maddox and
OH: Bruce Maddox? Is he still alive?
KIRSTEN [on screen]: Does it even matter? And then there was this wild talk about clandestine Romulan anti-synth ops here on Earth. It was just... it was just sad.
OH: One might be even inclined to say tragic. Admiral Clancy, I know I need hardly remind you if the Romulans were running clandestine operations on Earth, I would know. And then you would know. And then all of Starfleet would know, because clearly, that would be an overt and intolerable act of war.
KIRSTEN [on screen]: Of course. Look, Commodore, obviously there's nothing to it, but I thought I'd better check. Out of an excess of caution, as they say. Just look into it.
OH: Of course.
(Comms ends.)
OH: Lieutenant Rizzo, to me, please.

[Study]

(Laris drops a tray, breaking all the china.)
LARIS: What?! Have you gone mad? Is it dementia?
PICARD: I beg your pardon?
LARIS: Sorry, but you're not a stupid man, so when I hear you say such a stupid idea, I have to ask for other explanations.
PICARD: Well, how about this. The daughter of the man whose death I have been mourning for two decades comes to me for help and assistance. And then she is assassinated in front of my eyes by a Romulan death squad who will then go and try and find and destroy her twin sister. And you want me to sit here worrying what to do about the spittlebugs on the pinots?
LARIS: I want you not to die. No one but the Tal Shiar could ever protect you against the Tal Shiar.
ZHABAN: She's not wrong. You can't go without us.
LARIS: Idiot! He cannot go at all. He's only safe here. He knows about them. They have to eliminate him.
PICARD: Nevertheless I have to go.
LARIS: Go? Where? Go how?
PICARD: Well, I will get a ship, and I will find Bruce Maddox, wherever he is. Laris, I have to do this. I don't yet fully understand all of it, but I know that it's important. And not only to me.
LARIS: No, of course. If it's important to Jean-Luc Picard, it must be important to the whole galaxy. Go. And take that one with you. You can die together.
(Exits, slamming the door.)
ZHABAN: Laris understands. She's afraid for you, that's all.
PICARD: I know that. But you have to stay here with her. The grapes are far more in need of protection that I am. And it's less than a month to the harvest.
ZHABAN: But you can't do it alone. You need help. You need protection.
PICARD: Yeah.
ZHABAN: You need a crew. Riker. Worf. La Forge. Hmm?
PICARD: No. I thought about it. And they would do it in a heartbeat, and that's precisely why I cannot ask them. They would put themselves at risk out of loyalty to me, and I do not want to have to go through that again.
ZHABAN: Okay. You need someone who hates you and has nothing to lose.
PICARD: I've already made the call.

[Oh's office]

(Doorbell.)
OH: Come.
RIZZO: You wanted to see me, Commodore?
OH: Take a look at this. Does that look like disruptor fire? There. Reflected in the hand rail.
(Oh is reviewing footage of the time of Daji's death.)
RIZZO: Not to me, no.
OH: Admiral Clancy just called. Jean-Luc Picard came to see her. He has information about clandestine Romulan ops here on Earth. He referred to Zhat Vash by name. He was trying to persuade her to give him a ship and let him go after Doctor Bruce Maddox. Although she did not mention that last part, nor the talk about Zhat Vash.
RIZZO: Then how do you know?
OH: Do not insult me, Lieutenant. It would not be advantageous for your career.
RIZZO: Apologies, Commodore. This is unexpected.
OH: A dirty word in our line of work. Perhaps the worst word of all.
RIZZO: So you need me to take care of Picard?
OH: Your zeal and passion are commendable, but they are very nearly overbalanced by your impatience. There is a fundamental aptness in the word undercover which you have yet to fully absorb.
RIZZO: So I won't take care of him impatiently. I'll make it last as long as you like.
OH: Clancy has discouraged him adequately, I believe. And if the need arises, I will take care of Picard. I want you to stay on mission. You made a shambles of the operation here. Your team destroyed the thing before it could be interrogated and nearly blew our cover. We have one more opportunity. Do not squander it.
RIZZO: Of course. I've put my best man on it.
OH: Have you? I worry about that one. He too has a troubling penchant for the unexpected, and I have had just about my fill of surprises, Lieutenant. Do I make myself clear?
RIZZO: I will vouch for him with my life.
OH: Indeed. You will. Which is why I strongly recommend that you manage this case in person.
RIZZO: Of course.
OH: Everything is at stake. See that he does not fail. See that neither of you does.

[Vasquez Rocks]

(A yellow taxi shuttle drops off Picard and flies away. He walks to a modular habitat, carrying a bottle of wine in a string bag. A woman comes out of the habitat with a weapon powering up.)
RAFFI: You can turn around and call that cab to take you right back where you came from.
PICARD: Just want to talk.
RAFFI: There isn't anything you could say that I want to hear.
PICARD: Secret Romulan assassins are operating on Earth.
(He turns and walks away.)
RAFFI: Is that the '86? Goddamn it.
(He stops walking and turns back.)

[Narek's quarters]

NAREK: Nice of you to knock.
RIZZO [hologram]: Why start now?
NAREK: How's life in Starfleet, Lieutenant Rizzo? That ridiculous disguise. Round ears. You look like a plucked wakak.
RIZZO [hologram]: Shut up. Any progress?
NAREK: Yes. Slow, but I'm still confident that my approach, which you approved, is the only sound approach.
RIZZO [hologram]: I hope that confidence is not misguided. If your approach doesn't start paying off very soon, I will be obliged to unapprove it. For both our sakes. Commodore Oh is quite distressed. She has been a useful ally for a long time. I can't have her turning on us. When I arrive
NAREK: When you arrive. I'm on top of it.
(She sees the crumpled bed.)
RIZZO [hologram]: So it would seem. Have you found the nest? Has the machine given up the location of its fellow abominations? Really, has it told you anything at all? Grave reservations have been expressed about your approach, baby brother. I don't have to tell you the stakes couldn't be higher. Oh has reservations. Profound reservations. There is no one whose survival matters more to me than yours. Except my own. If you've made no progress by the time I get there, I will have no choice but to try my approach, unfortunate as it may have been. If there is another such disaster, it will undoubtedly consume you and me, too.