"What do you have in mind, Wes?" Leah looks over as she guides the vehicle smoothly out of the car park.

Wesley is ambivalent to her question. "Leah, do you have a padd that can read these microchips?"

"Uh," I see her eyes scan the front seat. "Beverly," she glances in the rear-view mirror. "Can you get the padd in my bag?"

I rummage through the capacious bag sitting next to me. "What are you doing, Wes?"

He looks up with a distinct twinkle in his eye. "I was thinking," He smiles back at me. "Remember that time on the Enterprise where I became completely intoxicated on that strange polywater?"

Yes, I smile. I remember how Wesley went absolutely wild and took control of Engineering. He was so young back then, completely little and unimposing. But, I laugh, he had Jean Luc in such a tail-spin when he took over the comm of the ship and appointed himself Captain. "Yes, Wesley… How could I forget? Jean Luc never let me live that one down…"

"Well," he too chuckles at our shared memory. "I was thinking. What if I did the same thing to the television broadcasting towers?"

"Huh?" I have no idea where he's going with this.

"Well, if everything that Leah's saying is true and the Daystrom Institute elite, you could say, really do have control over all the media outlets…" He pauses with a small bit of uncertainty as he thinks through the ramifications of his plan.

I lean forward in the seat, "Go on, Wes." I encourage.

"Well," he fumbles, grappling with the specifics of what he's trying to lay out. "Even if Will had been able to speak with that anchor, it's not going to do much good. You were right: it's our word against theirs and without this," He holds up the clear chip, "our story won't hold water."

There's more. "Right… but?"

He turns in the seat and looks at me, "Mom, Dad…" He blushes, "Jean Luc… doesn't have much time and there's no way that we're going to convince anyone at a big news outlet to disseminate the information on time. So…" he smiles dubiously.

I think I know where he's going. Leah contemplatively looks over at Wesley, finishing off the rest of his postulation. "So, what you're saying is that you're going to essentially hijack television towers and manually override the existing signal with one of your own."

"Yes!" he nods vigorously. "That's exactly it!"

Leah puts a staid hand on his arm. "But your plan is flawed, Wes. You're never going to be able to generate that type of signal with a regular console."

"No," He smiles knowingly. "But I know where I can get one that'll do the job!"

"Will," I grin. "The Titan." I think for a moment, "Wesley, you're going to use the Titan's array to generate that type of signal aren't you?"

"Exactly." He looks to Leah. "Leah, do you have a communicator with you? We need to contact either Will, Data, or Deanna."

"Beverly?" She angles her body again to regard me in the rear view mirror. "Would you?"

I again rummage in the purse to produce the small device. "Wesley," Leah starts. "I don't have privileged communication on that device."

Wesley manipulates the keystrokes with a practiced agility, "It doesn't matter. I've learned that all you need to do to access the Starfleet comm. is manually override the existing programming with a simple empirical algorithm."

She shakes her head in disbelief, "How did you figure that out?"

He winks back, "Another time." He's silent for another moment while he refocuses his attention on the comm. "Alright, now we just wait for Will to respond."

"Wesley, what do you plan on broadcasting?"

He shakes his head and fiddles with the padd. "I don't know." He quickly locates the chip-port in the device and scans the page. "Obviously, we have to make it short." He continues to speak while he gesticulates with his free hand. "We have to quickly run through the litany of grievances, expose the conspiracy and the admiralty and then we have to make a plea for Jean Luc." He sits back and stares out the window. "It's obvious that the prosecutor in the case is going to be planted. But, I'm banking on his defense attorney. Whatever happens, Mom," He turns and looks back. "They're going to have to give him some semblance of a fair trial to at least keep up appearances in the public eye. What I'm counting on is that even though I know that the prosecutor is planted, his defense might not be, nor will the judge."

"So?"

"So," he continues purposefully. "If we get this information out well before the hearing, someone will smell a rat, and I'm praying that the case will be dismissed. Afterall, this case is extremely high profile." He lowers his voice an octave and accents it with a theatrical tone. "Famous Starfleet captain turned family man pleads guilty on three counts of premeditated manslaughter."

"Right," I let myself fall back against the seat and again rub away the echoes of an oncoming migraine. "Because with the evidence in clear view, it's obvious that this is a set up… And enough people will be watching so at least we have a chance…" I hope.

He lets out a sigh, "let's just pray…"

A faint buzz against Wes' leg jolts me up again. "Is that Will?"

He again nods his head and his smile reaches both ears. "Leah," he keeps typing. "What are our current coordinates?"

"Is he going to transport you?" She looks over at him.

He nods. "You better pull the car over; you're coming too."

At the next turn, Leah brings the car to an abrupt halt and looks at the car's navigational array. "Latitude: 42.4076, Longitude: -104.334."

Gathering the padd and the two chips, Wesley gives me one final wink as the three of us materialize into blue.