"I - excuse me?" said Commander William Riker, who had never before in his life hoped so much for the sudden, unexpected onset of chronic hearing difficulties that would have gone some way to explaining what he thought he had just been told. He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Would you mind repeating that?"
The Intractan diplomat on screen (who to human eyes looked a great deal more like a heavily armoured soldier than a peacemaker) repeated himself in a whispering voice. Riker listened very carefully. His eyebrows flared high, then drew down into a menacing scowl. The rest of the bridge crew stayed silent, unable or unwilling to make any sort of comment.
"I see," said Riker, in a voice utterly devoid of tone. "If you will permit me to consult with Starfleet Command?"
The screen winked out on the diplomat's affirmative, to show the peaceful stars and the gently shifting globe of Tractusaria. Riker's fingers flexed, just once. Every officer currently on bridge duty was staring at him, willing him to say something. Preferably something that would make sense out of the things they'd just been party to hearing.
There was a pause, then Riker leant forward over his knees, pulling his fingers into a rough steeple, and grated: "I want to be perfectly clear on this point. The accusation levelled against Captain Picard is completely groundless and I do not want it repeated, understood?"
There was a chorus on the theme of "aye, sir."
"Glad to hear it." Riker flopped back in his chair, giving Deanna a weary glance. "Because of all the things I don't want to hear bandied about carelessly, it's the fact that Captain Picard is being held up on a charge of assaulting a pregnant woman." The counsellor's dark eyes were wide, sorrowful. "Come on, people!" Riker raised his voice. "Let's have a proper look at the Intractan legal codes. And get me Starfleet Command on subspace, I don't care if it takes hours, I want to actually speak to someone about this."
"He did what -"
Picard, massaging his cheekbone miserably, actually stopped himself in mid-expostulation. There really wasn't any point. And what was worse, he found himself not even particularly surprised. Assaulting a pregnant woman was hardly the worst thing that Lore had done in his life, after all.
"Is the woman all right?" he asked, allowing his concern to temper his fury at the android.
"She is at our medical facility and in no danger," said the Divemaster, softly. Her inhuman face was unreadable, black eyes giving nothing away.
"I am glad of that," said Picard, who truly was. The woman could have died, and then he would have added responsibility for murder to his charge sheet. And all because he couldn't tell those two apart -
Nonsense. There was no thinking that way. No-one could tell those two androids apart, especially from a distance and without hearing them speak or seeing them move and walk normally. Lore's swagger and brashness would have given him away soon enough, had the circumstances been different. "Divemaster, you must believe you will have my full co-operation in dealing with this matter, but I have to contact my ship. My first officer - "
"Your first officer has been informed of the situation. One of my senior staff contacted him very recently."
Picard found that he was somehow not comforted by this fact. "I don't suppose," he said slowly, "that you'll be able to tell me precisely what was said to him or what he may have said in return?"
The Intractan woman had that look about her again that suggested what Picard was saying to her was being received in the same fashion as an unwanted advance by a drunken lout in a bar. "Forgive me," he said, feeling tired. "I understand that my suggestion is impertinent. I am only trying to find out the facts. Can you tell me what I am permitted to do in this situation? Who I am permitted to speak to and under what circumstances?"
She looked somewhat relieved, Picard thought. "Of course. You will be permitted short, supervised audiences with the man who is your responsibility. Our laws treat this situation of responsibility much as we would treat a husband and wife, or a mother and child."
Now if that isn't a nasty concept, thought Picard, keeping his face straight, I don't know what is. "Thankyou," he said aloud. Even talking with Lore would be better than nothing. He had to know what he was dealing with, preferably in the android's own words. "I would like the maximum allowable amount of audiences, to start as soon as possible."
His eye was drawn to Lore, who was now sat perfectly still in the lotus position on the floor of his cell opposite. The android's eyes were open, but his expression was faraway, empty. Picard had seen that same expression on Data, and it usually meant that there was some set of internal processing going on that required a larger amount of attention than usual. He also noticed, belatedly, that Lore was still only half-dressed and the scorch marks were still visible licking the curve of his torso where a human's ribs would be.
"Might I also ask if he is to be treated for his injuries?"
"We're not cruel, Captain," whispered the Divemaster. "Our engineers are busy sourcing the materials they will need. As soon as they are prepared, he will be given suitable repairs."
Picard nodded absently; he had not truly doubted this. The Intracta were a fair and accommodating people - provided one stayed within the rules, of course. The Divemaster took his nod as dismissal, and turned to leave his cell.
"One more thing," Picard said from behind her, raising his voice only slightly. "See if you can find him a shirt…"
One floor up and several hundred yards away from where his captain was being held, Lieutenant Commander Data was sat in his own cell, head tilted, watching with endless fascination the parade of people filing back and forth. As a junior crew member in the Intracta's eyes, his cell was far less plush than Picard's: but Data was never bored. He tracked the movements of the guards, his keen sight picking out the subtle differences in armour and dress between the soldiers and the civil servants. He tallied up the numbers of different species currently in residence and was very interested in the efficiency of how the Intracta moved their prisoners around. For example, the Vulcan captain was moved from his cell at precisely three-hour intervals, his movements timed to avoid utterly the movements of what was presumably his first officer -
Data leant forward. One of the Intractan officers, wearing the dull taupe shades of what Data had come to recognise as engineer or technician class armour, had just gone by carrying something almost unique. The only other one Data could recall seeing was kept in Geordi La Forge's own toolkit aboard the Enterprise. It was a micro-circuitry reconnector, and not exactly the same as Geordi's, but the connector head had evidently been tailored to fit a very specific type of circuitry.
His, to be precise.