"It's difficult," said Deanna Troi, her expression indicating that she was aware this wasn't what Picard wanted to hear. They were sat in the observation lounge together, the counsellor, the captain, the first officer and the chief of security while Hitchcock's sickly red glow bathed the view ports. "What I can feel isn't clear. Not emotion, as such. More….more the echoes of emotion." She leant forward, clasping her knee with linked hands. "It's hard to put something like that into words. It's like the difference between sensing the emotions of a man undergoing torture compared to sensing the emotions of a man watching a play about a man undergoing torture, if that makes any sense."
"And can you tell me anything else about this hypothetical man watching the play?" asked Picard.
"Is it even a man?" Worf rumbled. Even a murmur from the Klingon sounded like the prelude to an interrogation. "From what Commander Data describes -"
"Exactly." Picard made a move as if he was planning to get up and pace, but didn't follow through with it. Riker, who was watching his commanding officer carefully for any signs he should be back in sickbay, wondered if anyone else had noticed, then inwardly shook his head at himself. He was sat at the table with an empath and a member of a race which habitually replaced commanding officers through the medium of physical combat. Of course they'd noticed. Picard was steepling his fingers as if the idea of getting up had barely flitted through his mind and fixing Riker with a steely look.
"I want you to take another Away Team down there."
An image of the pile of bloodied bodies on the transporter pad overwhelmed Riker's mind, briefly.
"Forgive me, sir, but I don't think that's wise. We lost three officers last time."
"But importantly, the first time we lost no-one at all," said Picard, calmly, and spoke to thin air imperiously. "Picard to La Forge."
"La Forge here, sir."
"How's Data?"
"Doing well. There's a continuing issue with his central power feed we haven't managed to crack yet, but he's pretty chipper, considering."
Riker could just imagine the look on Data's face as he looked up the term "chipper" in his memory.
"Glad to hear it. If he's available, I'd like him on the bridge at the science station. Some scan information's come in I'd like him to analyze before the Away Team leaves."
"Data here. On my way, sir."
"Thankyou, Mr Data."
Picard met the worried looks of his three officers with equanimity. "If I'm right," he said, softly, "the next visitors that Mayor Stewart welcomes to his colony will be in no danger whatsoever…"
"The scans are inconclusive, sir," said Data, his pale hands playing the science station like a musical instrument. Information flashed past at a speed Riker found slightly dizzying.
Obviously his brain is running on more than fumes…
Geordi was hovering in the periphery, tricorder in hand, taking continuous scans of his friend's condition. His forehead above the VISOR was lined with concentration and concern.
"Elaborate," said Picard, who was sat in the chair at the neighbouring station. Riker suspected it had taken more than a few words to keep Beverly Crusher from doing to the captain what Geordi was doing to Data now. The doctor was likely prowling her sickbay, waiting to use the phrase "I told you so," in anger if Picard was brought back in.
"There are certainly life signs registering," the android continued, "and there is evidence of human genetic material. However, I cannot confirm the presence of human life signs. The readings are unfamiliar."
"Data, when you were caught in the earth, you mentioned you found a bone."
"Yes, sir. A bone fragment, to be precise, broken, the unbroken end a ball-and-socket joint -"
"Could it have been human?" Picard persisted, low-toned. Data barely hesitated this time.
"Yes, sir."
The captain looked eminently satisfied with this, and abruptly changed tack, which frustrated Riker somewhat.
The captain and the second officer…when they get going like this, it's like having two Sherlocks in the room, and I'm the worst bumbling kind of Watson…
"The scans taken when we first reached orbit, of the moon fragments - "
"Ah," said Data, and negotiated fluidly with the console again to pull up a new set of readouts. "Indeed. Most intriguing. The recorded mass of the moon does not tally with the composite mass of the fragments scanned as we entered orbit."
"Are you saying we've lost some pieces of moon?" said Riker, incredulous.
Data gave him a blank look that still somehow managed to suggest he thought that was a rather inaccurate way of putting it, and nodded. "I believe so."
"Lost, and found," Picard murmured, and stood up, pulling down his tunic with more care than usual. "Thankyou, Mr Data. Will, I stand by my previous decision - prepare your Away Team. And my own convictions aside, I will take no chances. We will prepare subcutaneous transponders to be injected into each Away Team member that should allow for greater accuracy of the transporters, should any emergency occur."
Riker's doubts must have shown in his face, despite his best intentions, because Picard's gaze held him.
"And I have a script prepared for you all," he said, a humourless smile tugging up the corner of his mouth as his eyes flicked to Deanna Troi. "If this is a play about torture, I think it's high time we rewrote some of the lines."