"We identified her as a member of the local True Heritage movement", Utoba said. "A group of dissatisfied inhabitants who disagree with the planet's Federation membership. They requested to be part of the Romulan Empire, for supposedly the planet had first been colonized by Romulans, which is nonsense, as we both know."

"Do we?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do we know which humanoid species set foot on the planet two thousand years ago?", Picard expressed his doubts, "I wasn't alive then, were you?"

Utoba busied himself with gulping down his tea, then forced himself to smile.

"I've heard about your habit to question the obvious, Picard. I am glad that you wrap the keen mind of yours around the subject." It did not need an empath to tell that the Bajoran was furious at Picard's insinuation.

"I informed Starfleet that we were anticipating a recurring phase of riots on the planet", the Utoba went on as if he had not been interrupted, "Considering their issues had not been settled by the former negotiations, I assumed they would not accept a compromise if I led another series of talks."

Picard restrained himself to half-emptying his cup.

"Starfleet send a delegation", Utoba explained, now a little reluctant. "They examined the 'sensitive goods' the woman claimed we should keep in Federation possession for two days here. In order not to side with one faction beforehand, they decided to fully comply with the government's wishes, took the shuttle and her back to the planet and began preparations for legal proceedings."

He paused, turning his empty cup of tea in one one hand. "Forty-eight hours later the first local administration declared a state of emergency. Within a mere five days, death toll had risen to twenty percent of the planet's total number of inhabitants. We lost contact the third day after the delegation had left Deep Space. Last life signs of indigenous populations vanished after a month. So far, we know of no survivors."

Picard felt an icy stinge in his stomach. Sorrow seemed to tie his chest tightly. Stretching out for the rest of his tea, he noticed that his arms were heavier than usual. He forced himself not to think of the culture that had vanished in the blink of an eye.

The feeling did not disappear.

He was breathing hard. "Could you prove a responsibility of the True Heritage movement?", Picard asked.

"No, we did not go into further investigation of the issue." Utoba stopped twirling his cup, looking sternly at Picard. "Forgive me my boldness, Captain Picard, but are you sure you are all right?"

"I am expecting a status report of my Second-in-Command", Picard answered elusively, "I would be happy if we could continue our discussion at another time."

"Of course, Captain, I am always pleased to welcome you as my guest." They both got up, Picard felt his pulse rising beyond all healthy parameters.

"Allow me to inform your ship to beam you back directly from here", the Bajoran offered, tipping his communicator. "Transporter, stand by to beam one person aboard the Enterprise."

"Acknowledged", answered a disembodied voice.

When they shook hands, Picard noticed that his fingers were already one and a third of their usual size.

"Thank you for your profound report", he coughed, "It certainly sheds some light upon our situation, and should enhance the progress of our mission considerably."

If he could still trust his senses, Utoba hesitated at that last statement. Not for the first time Picard regretted he had not insisted on the presence of Counselor Troi.

"Glad I could be of help."

"Transporter, energize."

When the familiar gleam first appeared before his eyes, Picard noticed that his surroundings seemed to oddly loose contrast at the periphery of his sight.

The throbbing in his head became unbearable.

He bend over in agony, clutching his temples. His bald head was covered in cold sweat. Then, his knees gave way.

He hit the platform hard. Sharp pain shot up his legs.

A vague composition of light and shadow appeared. A humanoid figure rushed toward him.

Every nerve, every sinew hurt, the touch of the figure almost made him vomit.

"Medical... three... are … right?"

Picard groaned in pain. Please, some make this go away.

He could not see a thing any more. The hammering went on.

Another pair of hands grabbed him, forcing him around.

MAKE IT STOP!

A rush of red and blue... then darkness wrapped itself around him.