"Do you believe the captain is emotionally and psychologically fit for command of this starship?" Lieutenant Commander Remmick asked.

"Certainly," Soriana nodded. "He's about one standard deviation above normal in conscientiousness, one below in agreeableness, and within the normal range of Starfleet Officers for other metrics."

"You find him to be disagreeable?" The man tapped on his pad.

Soriana smiled. "No, I find him to be quite agreeable. But I'm his advisor, and I've earned his trust. He's properly surly and skeptical with others."

"Surly? Hardly a flattering description."

"He'd probably agree with you, but he doesn't trust me because I flatter him. Tea?"

Remmick shook his head. "There is nothing in his history or his personality that would suggest mental lapses?"

"Not in general, no. He certainly had mental lapses during that incident with Bok."

"The Ferengi?"

"If you like. Bok used a machine that made him distracted and gave him headaches. We relieved him of command until we found a cure."

"So, the answer to the question is yes?"

Soriana smiled wider. "I gave you the answer to your question, Commander. Are you really under the impression that this prickly, off-putting grilling of yours is going to lead anywhere?"

Remmick frowned. "I'm the one asking the questions, counsellor."

"And you're doing a terrible job of it. The adversarial style gets peoples' hackles up immediately. You might trip them up into saying something unwise - that's why trial lawyers use it - but it's all going to be superficial, and as likely false as true. Everyone's buttoned up tighter than a float-barge during a western winter."

Remmick looked at her over his pad. "They have to answer my questions."

Soriana nodded. "Yeah. And what that should have been for you was an opening to get people chatting. Offer them a snack, ask for stories about the ship. Throw in your own anecdotes about your commanding officers, get them responding in kind. Then you might get crumbs leading you somewhere."

Remmick's eyes narrowed. "Why would you tell me this?"

"Two reasons." She leaned forward to meet his eyes. "First, I'm the only one here who can see what's going on behind that earnest expression of yours. Something has you and Quinn terrified, and you have not even the first clue what it is. You're not here to build a case against the Enterprise or Picard, like your questions have made everyone else believe. You just want to figure out if he's involved in… whatever the thing is." Soriana felt his fear spike even more.

"The second reason is that it's too late anyway. The drawbridge is already pulled up on this crew. You'll grill everyone on public records and restricted reports, and then you'll be gone."

She re-crossed her legs. "But since I actually do think the job the Investigation Office does is important, I thought I ought to give you my two apples about the part of it closest to my own expertise."

Soriana sat back; she had the man's full attention now. "Any other questions?"

*****

"All I can say," Admiral Quinn insisted, alone with Captain Picard, "is that something has the high brass spooked. Something about certain captains and higher that aren't making the decisions they're expected to. That don't… remember things they should."

Picard tried to wrap his mind around the idea. "Thought control? Or some sort of covert reconditioning?"

"We really don't know. But, Jean-Luc? If you won't relocate to Earth, at least check back in often. And be careful."