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Warning. Security breach.

Unauthorized docking.

Admiral Picard.

I'm encoding this transmission

with coordinates.

Trust no one.

I think I may have a ship.

The captain, Shaw, we got
to con him into changing course.

- Where?
- The Ryton system.

No.

Welcome to the Ryton system, gentlemen.

This was you.

You just loyaltied your way
to the end of a career.

So, is my handler here this time

- or are you gonna flake out on me again?
- I am here.

I've been under for months,
trying to figure out

who stole these goddamn
experimental weapons

from Daystrom Station and why.

Starfleet recruitment,

I believe you're under imminent threat

of a terrorist attack.

Number One, she's here.

Beverly is clearly wounded.

- We're here to help you.
- What makes you think I want your help?

Beverly would never call out

in order to save only herself.

- Then who's this?
- Her son.

They must have followed you here.

- What the hell is going on?
- We're being hunted.

♪ Jumping on a starship ♪

♪ Take me on a space trip... ♪

Hailing frequency is open.

This is Jack Crusher

on Mariposa medical vessel
designation Eleos XII

on approach to Sarnia Prime.

Confirming orbital entry.

Can anybody read me?

Please respond if you are...

Warning. Fenris Ranger
vessel approaching.

- There you are.
- Eleos, you have violated

our airspace en route
to a designated quarantine zone.

Provide the Federation access codes

or surrender for inspection.

Ranger, I assure you,

we've been granted the moral authority,

but that seldom comes with paperwork,

and right now, there are thousands below

with Galarian Fever who are
immunoresistant to bureaucracy.

Inspection it is, then.

This is a medical vessel,

delivering medical supplies

to people who are medically in need.

And as a medical expert,

I assume you're aware of the protocols,

which you are currently
in violation of, at least,

oh, 27, give or take.

Protocols which will have
the desired effect of killing

the disease by killing everybody
who carries it.

Galarian Fever is fatal

at the rate of one life per minute,

so while we've been at this,
we've murdered...

... ten civilians.

Steroids, suppressants.

Antibody therapeutics.
Gene re-sequencers.

And what about this one?

Romulan ale?

New miracle cure I'm not aware of?

For sterilization.
It's ideal antiseptic,

and a commonly prescribed
treatment for life in general.

All of which we're happy to share.

Is that a bribe?

No, don't be daft.

I'd never bribe you
with medical equipment.

I'd bribe you... with these.

Look, we all know
the warlords down there

engineered the fever in order
to clear the free-zone

from refugees before the others
could claim it.

I give half to one warlord,
half to another,

cut you in for, say, 25...

- 35.
- ... 30% of the take and...

... it's bad guys shooting bad guys,

and we've helped refugees
by curing a pandemic.

Oh, mon ami.

We're basically saints.

Take this one first.

Mon ami.

Come on. Anybody
would think it was heavy.

Reach out to the Marked Woman.
We found him.

Power level at 13%.

Who is it out there?

I don't know.

First it was Fenris Rangers,
then Klingons, a day later.

Then three guys in Starfleet uniforms

tried to prime-direct me
into an early grave.

We've been running for months.

Whoever's piloting that ship
has resources.

And we've been too close
to the nebula for too long

and it's fried our systems.

We're running on fumes.

"Trust nobody".

That's what Beverly said.
What do they want?

We have to find out.

But first of all,
we have to make contact,

strike an accord, negotiate.

Computer, threat assessment.

Unidentified vessel presently
targeting all ship's systems.

Probability of destruction: 100%.

They're not here to negotiate.

Look, she called you, I didn't.

Before you two turned up with
the baddies in tow, I had this.

But now that you're here,

you might as well
makes yourselves useful.

That med-pod's power is nearly drained,

and my mother needs medical attention.

So, please, tell me
that your little shuttle

has a much bigger friend close by.

We came on the Titan.

She's gone, but possibly
still within range.

If we could get Beverly on the shuttle,

we can reach out to the Titan,
ask them for help.

Sir, it's faint, but I'm
picking up a third signal

by the nebula.

Lieutenant T'Veen, get me
a full diagnostic scan.

I'm reading photonic activity,

along with energy signatures
I don't recognize.

It's definitely a vessel, Captain.

And it's packing.

Have they entered Federation space yet?

No, sir, it appears to be
sticking close to the nebula.

It's going for Picard.

If we act now, we can intercept.

La Forge, how long to reach them?

Belay that, Helmsman.

Sir, Admiral Picard and
Captain Riker are in danger.

Commander Hansen.

We are an exploratory vessel.

If that ship decides to engage
us, we are outgunned.

And I am not gonna risk 500
souls for two relics who think

that a couple of brass medals
make them golden boys.

They dug their grave,
they took you with them.

Hold your position, La Forge.

Dismissed.

I said dismissed.

Why is it just circling us?

Why hasn't it hailed us yet?

- We need to go, Captain.
- Admiral.

You can educate me on the chain
of command in the afterlife,

but from what I've heard,

history remembers you with one less pip.

We need to get her med-pod
to your shuttle now.

I'll prep the docking bay.

Beverly's son?

There's just something...
familiar about him.

Incoming!

Blast shield engaged.

- What the hell just happened?
- Will,

the pod's losing power,
and her life signs are fading.

- We need to get to her to the Titan.
- Admiral!

Change of plan.

We just lost the shuttle.

We're trapped here.

Today the Federation looked on in terror

as the Starfleet recruitment building,

a symbol of peace and hope to many,

was destroyed
in an unprecedented attack.

Nothing is known about
the devastating weapon,

but sources within Starfleet
suggest that the dissident

Lurak t'Luco, leader
of a Romulan rebel faction,

is responsible.

So far, 117 are confirmed dead.

Secure channel open.

Sorry to bother you.

Just thought we could have another chat.

You...

You sent me undercover
to find whoever stole

experimental weapons from Daystrom

and stop them before
they could use them.

And, well...

... here we are.

117 confirmed.

117 that could've been avoided
had I been faster.

Do not seek blame.

Do not seek anger.

I have to keep digging,
find out who did this.

Starfleet Command is terminating

investigation until further notice.

Suspect identified.

What are you talking about?

What, the press, the intel reports?

They're pawning this off
on Lurak t'Luco?

A Romulan triggerman who's never made it

to anyone's most wanted list

goes through the trouble of heisting

an ultra-secure
off-site Daystrom facility?

And steals some world-ending portal tech

and uses it to-to blow up,
of all things,

a mid-level Starfleet
recruitment bureau?

And even if he did do it,

he's not the one who stole the weapon.

He purchased it on the black market.

There's a redacted statement
from a lowlife

Ferengi crime lord named Sneed.

He said he brokered the sale
between an anonymous seller

and t'Luco as the buyer, just,
you know, tidy, convenient.

But it doesn't add up.

I'm gonna need to speak to that Ferengi.

Repeat: Starfleet Command
has terminated investigation.

Disengage.

Disengage?

No.

Hell no.

Sneed is lying.

He's covering
for whoever really did this.

And 117 people are gone.

118 should you continue.

Do not join the dead.

Why are you hamstringing me?

What do you know that I don't know?

Do not engage.

Look, you're my handler, right?
Whoever you are?

I am requesting an in-person meet.

Denied.

Well, somebody needs
to speak for the dead.

And since you're not
even gonna talk to me,

I guess I'm on my own.

I'm gonna find out from Sneed
who really did this.

Am I gonna need to confine you
to quarters?

Lieutenant Mura detected
weapon system activity,

presumably targeting
Picard's unarmed shuttle.

So it will be so noted in my report.

Sir, they could die if we don't help.

Did you assist Captain Riker
and Admiral Picard

in commandeering my shuttle?

I am more than certain
they were able to find

the shuttle bay without assistance.

Bullshit.

Sir, you could be the hero
who saved heroes

or you could be remembered
for being the captain

who let two legends die.

It's your call. Sir.

Okay, so we've got no visuals,

we've lost our escape
and help isn't coming.

- Suggestions?
- Have they hailed us?

Surrendering is an option.

They haven't offered terms.

Well, I could offer them you two.

Does the legendary admiral
have any ideas?

I'm not strategizing, I'm safeguarding.

Against what?

Against that.

Transport inhibitors.

- Now we know.
- What?

They want you.

Alive.

If they can't get you out,

they're coming in.

Warning: gravimetric lock detected.

Hey, kid. Throw me one
of those plasma charges.

Enemy transport countermeasures

targeting docking bay.

Any more incoming?

No.

Hopefully, they realize now

that they're sending
their forces to their deaths.

We're in a stalemate.

Warning: structural integrity at 22%.

You were saying?

Tractor beam.

If they can't board us,
they'll make us board them.

Hull breach on Deck 2.

Emergency force fields in place.

Power relay failure.

Beverly.

Life support at 14%.

Shield report.

Off-line.

Hull breach on Deck 2.

If you get me enough power,

I think I can improvise a beam repulsor.

Stop!

It won't work.

We don't have repulsor capability.

We've been limping by for weeks.

It's pointless.

They have us.

Warning: power levels at critical.

Total power failure imminent.

Well.

It was nice meeting you.

I've got movement on the sensors.

What the hell is that?

Sir, tractor beam is broken.

Red alert. Helm, hold position.

Bring those two back on board.

Captain, I'm reading four life signs.

Bring them all on board.

We're basically a hotel now.

Get me a channel to the Eleos.

This is the Titan.
Prepare to beam aboard.

Not a moment too soon.

- Hull compromised.
- Tell her she better hurry up.

Sir, the alien vessel
is preparing to fire!

Esmar, get them out of there now.

Something's wrong, it's not working!

I can't lock onto them.

What the hell is that thing doing?

I don't know, but it looks pissed.

Picard, we can't get a lock on you.

The transport inhibitors.

Structural integrity at...

Picard to Titan. Try it now!

Exposure to lethal gas on Deck 3.

Hey. You know, I only called

because I never thought
you'd actually answer.

Marrow tea?

Uh, n-no. No, thanks.

So, how you doing, Jae? How's our son?

Gabe says you, uh...

you ambushed him at his baby's doctor.

Ambushed?

So that's what my son thinks of me.

I only wanted to see her.

In person, you know?

- You staying clean?
- Yeah.

Yeah, I'm... I'm with Starfleet now.

I have to be. I want to be.

I need something.

I know you're still connected.

- Goddamn it, Raffi.
- No, it's for work.

I know you still turn a blind
eye to the shady business

that happens in the back room
of your bar,

and I need an intro...

to Sneed, the Ferengi broker.

Are you out of your mind?

You do realize that "broker"

is just a polite word for "gangster".

He's a monster.

It's important.
I wouldn't ask otherwise.

I'm with Starfleet Intelligence,

but they are blind to something big.

And they don't know it. It is wrong.

When your head goes to that place,

the webs, conspiracies,

that's when it all starts up.

The drugs, the dark rabbit holes.

How did you break away from it?

- It was so easy for you.
- I made a choice.

And we had this... this beautiful boy.

So I chose...

my son, my art.

And that was enough for me.

But not for you.

Gabe pushes you away
because he remembers that.

Sneed is protecting murderers.

For some reason, Starfleet's
turning a blind eye.

I'm the only one who can do this.

Damn.

And I actually thought
you were here about Gabe.

Thought maybe you'd want me
to put in a word with him.

You'd do that?

I could talk to Gabe.

Or I'll talk to Sneed,
but I will not do both.

Right here, right now.

Make a choice.

Yeah.

That's what I thought.

Status report.

We got all four. Injured
civilian was beamed

directly to sick bay and
is unconscious but stable.

Captain, I suggest we get
away, maximum warp.

Not yet. We've engaged.

I want to know with who and why.

Oh, you boys are in so much trouble.

She said to trust nobody, and
you basically brought everyone.

- Captain.
- Who the hell are you?

Can we just all take a breath?

- Captain!
- What?

We're being hailed.

Let's see what you all got us into.

On screen.

Good afternoon.

I believe it is afternoon in Sol System.

I am Captain Vadic.

And you are, uh...

... Captain Liam Shaw.

That's me.

I think it's important for you
to know that I was having

a nice morning before all of this.

Ooh, that's lovely to hear, Liam.

Given your official
psychological profile

with Starfleet,

I'm so glad that you've
remained, uh, functional.

You have been causing us
some concern, Captain.

State your business.

Oh.

Admiral Jean-Luc Picard.

In the synthetic flesh.

You're harboring one Jack Crusher.

He's broken a number of laws both inside

and outside Federation space.

There is a sizable bounty on his head.

And we are taking him.

I hate to inform you

that Starfleet does not
negotiate with bounty hunters.

Ooh, I see you're having difficulty

understanding the situation.

May I remind you that you are
outside of your jurisdiction?

But so you may have clarification,

I'll lower my shields
so that you can scan my ship.

- Their shields are lowering.
- Weapons?

40 isolytic burst warheads,

88 plasma torpedoes,

236 six photon torpedoes,

18 antimatter missiles.

20 pulse wave,

- 30 series five...
- I get it.

And something...

loaded in primary position
in the bay, sir.

Technology unknown.

You have one hour
to hand over Jack Crusher.

Turn your back to run,

and the only way you'll see
the shot that kills you

is through the hole
in your proverbial chest.

Until then, enjoy

this parting demonstration
of my intentions.

Shields up. Evasive maneuvers!

What did she just do?

She... threw a ship at us.

Sir.

It broke through our shields, Captain,

hit with enough force that shrapnel

tore the hull on Deck 11.

How is that even possible?

Reverse tractor beam
with anti-gravitational

polarity phasing.

Basically, blunt force trauma.

If my father taught me anything,

there's no law of physics
that can't be either weaponized

or broken by another law of physics.

Thank you, Ensign.

So, we have 500 guns
pointed at our head.

We try to run, we are vapor

the second our nacelles light up.

Help is days away

and this nebula is wreaking hell
on our long-range comms.

We are essentially cornered.

In space.

Which has no corners.

What do we know about this Vadic?

Nothing in the Starfleet
database, but...

there have been rumors.

Oh, right, yeah.

Among the antiestablishment
pirate types, huh?

The Fenris folk.

A ship, similar in design,

flying no flag but boasting every weapon

known to Starfleet and then some.

So it's us and the boogeyman
at the edge of space.

No cavalry in sight.

What about Jack Crusher?
What do we got on him?

Who I am doesn't matter.

Oh, yes, it most certainly does.

This is no longer about Beverly
only, this is also about you.

I've already told you everything I know.

I've never even heard of a Vadic.

We're at a disadvantage here, kid.

And if there's one place in
the galaxy I don't want to be,

it's on my back foot, so think.

For yourself and for your mother.

Ah.

Well...

this took longer than
I thought it would.

- What's happening here?
- The brig. That's what's happening.

Thank you for the rescue, Admiral.

Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you

to... Jack Crusher.

A.K.A. Jack Canby,
John Carson, James Cole,

and my personal favorite, Jarlis Carvel?

Yeah, that one took
a lot of imagination.

Looks like you two were conned

into saving the life of a con man.

The bounty hunter's claims are valid.

We are harboring
an intergalactic fugitive.

Take him away.

Sir, as a former Fenris Ranger,

I've had many interactions
with bounty hunters.

That ship is clearly not...

And you. You are no better.

Helping them commandeer my shuttle?

Persuading me to engage
with a hostile entity

outside of Federation space?

Wagering 500 lives

against your loyalty
to a whopping total of two.

You are relieved of duty
for insubordination.

Captain Shaw, Seven was clearly placed

in an impossible situation.

This man is getting what he deserves.

So is she. So are you.

I am inclined to give Vadic her bounty

and send us on our merry way.

Anything after that,
we'll save for the tribunal.

Since when does Starfleet
give into hostile demands?

That man is wanted for trial,
not execution,

and we damn well know that's
not a ship, it's a guillotine.

The rules of engagement outside
of Federation space are clear.

"The safety and preservation
of the ship's crew

above all else".

You've seen the firepower on that thing.

That is a dogfight we will lose.

Captain, allow me to speak with Jack.

Th-There has to be more to this.

Well, she gave us an hour.

You have half that
to prepare him for departure.

Why are you dancing around this?

Around what?

Are you serious?

Well, even if he is Beverly's son,

then if these charges are real...

That is not what it's about,
and you know that.

Are you not seeing what I'm seeing?

Do the math, Jean-Luc.

Will, don't speculate.

Tell me, honestly,
you do not see what I see.

I have a great affinity
for virtuosos, but...

it seems that your instrument
is deception.

- Thievery.
- Wow.

That's a hell of an opener.

How is my mother?

Mending, but unable to defend
you, so defend yourself.

You're accused of organized
crime on Andoria,

actual terrorism on Binar III

and you're wanted for the death
of a man on Andreus 5.

That's unfair, he's a Falsetti,

and they go into a deep
hibernation for seven cycles,

so is he dead or is he alive?

Who's to say?

Says here you were recently
sighted on Kemiyo.

- That's a war zone.
- It's a rebellion.

The Kemiyans have been fighting

against their oppressors for decades.

I brought them medicine, supplies.

Oh. So you're a freedom fighter?

Only in the sense that a doctor
fights for the freedom

of his patient to not be dead.

I'm that, at best.

At worst? Well, I'm a thief.

Of stolen medical supplies, yes.

But also, stolen weapons
and other prohibited cargo.

Currency is currency
and medicine isn't free.

The people who dislike me are gamblers,

low-level gangsters,

the fathers of daughters everywhere.

Not vigilante bounty hunters

willing to pick a fight
with the Federation.

Oh, a lovely self-pardon.

But we both know that Beverly
would never permit this.

Who do you think taught me all this?

When she's not behind me,
kicking my ass,

she's right beside me, equal partners,

trying to do some good in
a good-less, imperfect universe.

And that's how I know you're lying.

What, because you know her so well?

When was the last time you
even spoke to my mother?

Ask yourself,

is there anybody you know who
is still the person you knew?

Or have you planted roots
in your vineyard

while everybody else moved on?

- Who is your father?
- I never had one!

Look...

if handing me over to Vadic
buys my mother a future...

... then so be it.

Especially if it puts an end
to this conversation.

Whatever your circumstances may be,

you deserve the justice
of courts, not criminals.

To turn you over is to acquiesce.

Worse yet, it betrays an old friend.

But to harbor you risks the lives

of everyone aboard this ship.

Including hers.

And I only have 18 minutes

before I have to determine
what to do about you.

Stepping over junkies
is one hell of a way

- to conceal a drug den.
- We're not open to strangers.

Move on.

Sneed's expecting me.

I like human things, retro things.

It's like pressure and coal.

Let something get old long enough,

eventually, it becomes vintage.

And... of value.

Sit, please. You're making me nervous.

Transaction complete.

I make deals between people.

I broker. I know things.

And who Jae knows, I know.

Only, I don't know you.

Which makes me wonder,
how well do I know Jae?

In my experience, artists
are unknowable assholes

who live in their head
instead of the real world.

Very true, very true.

Which is probably why his first
wife left him for Starfleet.

See, the thing about Starfleet

is in an organization
that doesn't value money,

it makes it very hard to be high-class.

Consequently, I freelance now.

Ooh, la, la.

You nasty girl.

But nobody comes in here
asking nothing for something.

It would offend me if they did.

Word on the street
is you brokered a deal

for stolen portal tech

for a Romulan named t'Luco.

Same kind of tech that brought down

the Starfleet recruitment center.

T'Luco, t'Luco, t'Luco.

Ah, I heard he went underground

after swallowing up that building.

But see, we both know
he didn't push that button.

You want to know why?

Because I work for t'Luco.

Oh, do you?

Now, who in your little black book here

paid you to blame my client
for the attack?

I've been stung enough times
to smell a sting coming.

You smell like Starfleet.

Federation?

Section 31?

Unless, of course...

there's some way to convince me

that you're not.

Prove it.

Be my guest.

Yeah.

That's right.

Goes down real easy.

Oh, yum, yum, yum, yum.

It's good, isn't it?

I named it "splinter"
because it feels like

you're being ripped apart
and then pulled back together

again and again and again.

Who do you work for?

I told you. T'Luco.

I'm impressed.

You know, it takes an old addict
to fight it this hard.

You must have really been
something back in the day.

The only thing is, I know
you don't work for t'Luco,

because this...

... is t'Luco.

Do you really think I wouldn't
tie up my loose ends?

Or risk my goddamn reputation
selling out the big fish?

But I will take your money.

And they'll take your head.

I told you, do not engage.

Captain.

Captain.

We may need to discuss
a course of action

that will not involve cooperating.

Just because you don't want to sell out

your ex-girlfriend's son does not mean

I have to sell out the lives of my crew.

And you of all people...

Should know that Jack Crusher
is a person.

A criminal, maybe, but not unprincipled.

That's if you trust him.

To love his mother more than himself.

And how do we even know
he really is her kid?

Easy play, handcuffing yourself
to the speechless woman

unconscious in the med-pod.

You have 15 minutes.

Fifteen.

Oi.

Oi, Starfleet.

What's the power level
of this force field?

According to Starfleet regulations,

you are required to inform me
of the power level.

In the event I may harm myself
whilst trying to escape.

Level 10. Standard issue.

Go ahead. Stick your tongue out,
test it to be sure.

Thank you kindly.

How's Beverly?

Arterial wound.

We located the internal trauma,
stopped the bleeding.

She'll be all right.

- How sedated is she?
- Heavily.

Whoa. What are you doing?

No... Sir, she needs time to rest.

This is not a diplomatic issue, Picard.

They have already engaged us.

Reestablish comms.

We may be able to bring her down
simply by standing up.

Enemy vessel is hailing us, sir.

On screen.

You know, it's been centuries

since timepieces last ran
on the mechanics of gears,

and yet, that persistent sound you hear

is the gentle ticktock
of passing seconds.

- We still have time.
- Of course.

And I will honor my terms.

But... I thought you might care to know

the name of my particular vessel.

The Shrike.

It's an Earth creature.

A small carrion bird,

one that doesn't attack
in anger or malice,

one that isn't made

frantic by hunger

but rather kills surgically, carefully.

Give me the boy now
or continue to delay,

but with each ticking moment,

I will take another piece of you.

I'll peck, and I'll jab

at everything that makes you you.

Every system that makes
your ship your ship,

until there's nothing left but
the choice to have given me

what you could have given me now.

But certainly...

... take your time.

That was some terrific
standing up, Admiral.

All right, enough. Let's turn him over.

Sir, there's been a security
breach on Deck 12.

At the brig.

Find him.

Shuttles, transporters, lock 'em down.

Security alert.

A prisoner has escaped the brig.

Use precautions. He may be armed.

I don't give a damn what
rank I do or don't have,

I need a tac team
to the shuttle bay ASAP.

I'll secure the transporters.

Security lockdown on Decks 7 through 10.

All non-essential...

Get on with it. Get on with it.

Get him to unlock it.

I want out.

No sign of the escaped
prisoner in Shuttle Bay 2.

Proceeding to Shuttle Bay 3.

If he escapes, there's no guarantee

she won't engage us anyway.

Hansen to Shaw. I found him.

You may have just earned
your post back. Bring him up.

He's currently in the transporter
bay with a phaser

and a request to unlock the controls.

If he was escaping,

he'd be a half a system away
in a shuttle by now.

And the only place he can get to

with a transporter would be there.

He's trying to hand himself over,

in the event that we wouldn't.

He's protecting his mother.

If that's the case,
by all means, let him.

Clear your conscience, Picard.

Whoever this kid may be, he's
not worth the lives of my crew.

One minute to go. I'm giving the order.

Esmar...

... unlock the transporters.

Belay that!

Admiral's orders.

Lock it down.

Shuttles, transporters.

The boy stays here.

You are going to get us all killed.

Why are you doing this?

Because he's my son.

Oh, goddamn it.

Tactical.

Full power to forward shields.

La Forge, get ready to fly.

Stand by to execute commands.

Whatever happens next,
Admiral, that's on you.

Comms, put the Shrike on the screen.

How very precise with
your timing, Jean-Luc Picard.

And your answer?

Engage!

Oh, follow him.

If they're looking for a fight...

They'll have to find us first.

Follow him!

- Synced and corrected by Firefly -
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