As Zoe suspected, the EMH was willing to assist as needed, albeit discreetly and without divulging any classified information. His ethical subroutines made that an impossible feat. Still, the undervalued Doctor happily provided what info he could on what sub-Chief Yules said about a little girl and Avery's fall from the catwalk. After all, one could hardly call it classified since there were so many witnesses.

"I couldn't help but notice that Commander Lombardi seemed far more interested in the teams assigned to investigate than the young girl. In fact, I don't believe anyone is searching for her," said the Hologram, pausing to see if Spot was behaving himself. "Take note, Commander. Port-1 has been sealed off. No one gets in without approval! I just thought you'd like to know in case you and your companion were considering going down there to investigate. I seriously doubt she'd find the brig very romantic! Zoe was her name, right?"

Data glimpsed the look on Zoe's face. Her brows had traveled the length of her forehead in the span of a blink. He felt strangely exposed despite not being exposed.

"I do not know where ..." he began, desperately trying to ignore the growing grin on Riker's face.

Jean-Luc swooped in to save the android from himself, while chastising his first officer with a stern 'stop that' frown.

"Mr. Data," he interrupted. "Did your research turn up similar incidents aboard other construction docks?"

Before the android could answer, the EMH pounced.

"Who is that?" he asked. "Who else is listening? I wasn't informed that others were present!"

Data winced. In his haste, he failed to mention there were others in the room. Going forward, he would need to tweak his courtesy subroutines to include holograms.

"I apologize, Doctor. Captain Picard, Commander Riker, and Ms. Duchovny are with me. We are transmitting from the Captain's shuttle in Bay 19. It was necessary to use an independent system to avoid detection."

The EMH adopted a worried look.

"Well, I'm receiving you from a lowly com-link in sickbay! The channel may be secure, but it's far from private. Let's wrap this up, shall we?"

"To answer your question, sir," Data said, ignoring the EMH. "I found similar incidents aboard other vessels and stations; however, in each of those cases, alcohol, sickness, and mechanical malfunctions were determined to be cause. None of the factors in this case match previous examples. I am immune to the effects of alcohol and do not suffer from illness. I believe I have ruled out personal and station-related malfunctions. For now, Commander Lombardi is in control. I do not possess the necessary clearance to question his staff or access secure areas relevant to the investigation. I am afraid none of us do. Commander Riker, Geordi, and I are still guests aboard Alpha Spacedock."

Jean-Luc signed.

"When I return to headquarters, I will try to get some answers. Maybe Admiral Wade can grant me the necessary clearance. With his help, I may be able to open a few doors," he said.

"What will you tell him?" Riker asked. "We may suspect Lombardi of hiding something, but he appears to be following protocol. The Admiral would have no reason to usurp his authority by granting an outsider access to an internal investigation without just cause."

"I honestly don't know Number One, but I can't shake the feeling that something is going on here! I admit. I am concerned that whatever is happening could have an adverse effect on the construction and launch of the Enterprise-E, but I am more concerned about the safety of those living aboard. That includes my crew! I hope that concern will be enough to convince the Admiral that my intentions are sincere. I have no desire to usurp Lombardi's authority. I only want to get to the bottom of this mystery!"

The EMH listened from his side of the com-link. It certainly seemed as if the Captain and his crew were more interested in investigating the matter than his own Commander. More importantly, there was a young man lying in an unexplained coma two rooms away. The Chief Medical Officer was able to heal his injuries, but he was unable to revive him. Stranger still, no one batted a lash over the fact that security teams were placed outside his door or that Ensign Tal-Mae was temporary relieved of duty. Loyalty dictated that he not disclose that bit of intel along with Lombardi's plans to keep their findings off the record. He just hoped that his loyalty wasn't misplaced.

"I really must go, Mr. Data, but may I suggest something?"

"Go ahead, Doctor."

"The incidents you described appear to have one thing in common. It would seem that each are connected to you in some way or another."

Data shook his head.

"I do not believe that is accurate. I was not present when Ensign Potts was injured."

"Well, no ... but wasn't it Ensign Potts and Tal-Mae that discovered you in the corridor after the first episode?"

The android shared a glance with Picard and the others. A keen observation, but the incident report hadn't been published yet. How did the Medical Hologram know?

"You make an interesting point, Doctor. May I ask how you knew that?"

The EMH bristled uncomfortably. He would need to skate around the answer.

"Among my many talents, I am programmed to be resourceful," he replied.

Data's face remained neutral.

"In other words, you reviewed my personal logs."

The Doctor picked up his tricorder and began fiddling with the display. He was within his rights as a medical officer to review any unrestricted material to ascertain a motive or possible explanation for an unknown injury. Spot may have been a cat, but he was also a victim!

"I ... I may have indulged a little," he gently admitted. "But only a little! And not just yours. I was looking for any information that would shed a little light on the incident leading up to your feline's injuries ..."

Data wasn't sure if he agreed with the EMH's actions, but he assumed the hologram was endowed with rights similar to other medical officers. Still, a fine line existed between research and intrusion despite the material being unrestricted. Of course, the logs weren't encrypted because they focused largely on day-to-day observations, Spot, and his hobbies. While it didn't bother him that he reviewed the files, the idea that the hologram was capable of making such a decision without someone suggesting it was intriguing.

"Be glad that I'm inquisitive!" the EMH said in a hushed tone. "I was able to discern quite a bit. For example, you're not alone. There are others aboard this station that have experienced similar things over the years. Nothing close to what you described, but things not easily explained. They're just too afraid to come forward! I'm unsure why, but you should consider discussing it with Ensign Tal-Mae. Not only was he present on the catwalk when the accident happened, but he works in Port-1. He knows some of the veteran technicians. Many of them have worked here for years. I'm afraid I can't share anymore with you. It wouldn't be right, but that's where you should start!"

"Thank you, Doctor. You have been an enormous help! Has the Ensign been cleared to speak with anyone?"

"Probably not," he said sardonically. "But what's a technicality like that mean to an android like you? Just talk to him! Preferably sooner rather than later. By the way, I have it on good authority that the Vulcan enjoys Vulcan cuisine. Equally shocking is that Nook's serves Vulcan-themed cuisine every Tuesday night. Guess what today is?"

Puzzled, Data glanced up when he heard Commander Riker snicker.

"Tuesday," he answered, disguising his amusement with a cough.

"Captain, sir, we are preparing to depart. Should I notify Admiral Wade of your arrival?" the pilot asked.

Jean-Luc was in the middle of reviewing Riker's report when he caught what the young man said. How did he know that he wanted to speak to the Admiral?

"What did you ask, Ensign?" he said, lowering the pad.

Captain Picard observed the helm from the third passenger seat. The Ensign remained focused on the controls and the bay exit. He was a dedicated pilot, never taking his eyes off the runway. While Jean-Luc was perfectly capable of piloting his own shuttlecraft, protocol dictated that he have a specialized pilot since they were kept abreast of changing regulations.

"I asked if you would like me to hail Admiral Wade, sir."

Jean-Luc sat up and looked around. The conversation with Commander Riker, Data, and his friend, Zoe, had been a private one. How did he know that he was planning to speak with the Admiral? Had he been eavesdropping? Was he now boasting or testing him in some way?

"What is your name, Ensign? Where is the other pilot?" he asked, suddenly aware that his previous pilot, Watts, had been replaced. Not that it mattered very much. Pilots came and went, but this young man was unfamiliar to him.

A certain smugness overcame the Ensign, which reflected in his posture. Even his head wobbled too cockily for a man of such low rank.

"Peter Calvin," he answered. "Lt. Watts couldn't make the return flight, sir."

"Really. Why wasn't I notified?"

"It would seem that Operations dropped the ball, Captain. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I can assure you, sir, I am a capable pilot."

Jean-Luc was no empath, but something felt off.

"Why did you ask about Admiral Wade?" he continued. "His name doesn't appear on my itinerary."

The young Ensign did not answer right away. In stead, he hailed Operations.

"Shuttlecraft 468 requesting permission to clear Bay 19," he announced.

"Shuttlecraft 468, you are cleared for exit. Proceed," a voice replied.

Captain Picard observed from the window as their shuttle passed through a low-yield force field into space. Earth was visible from their location, but still a reasonable distance away. It would take them nearly thirty minutes to reach orbit at minimum impulse. With so many shuttlecrafts ferrying passengers to and from the various docks, only emergency vehicles were permitted to travel faster.

"Answer me," the Captain said.

The pilot took a deep breath. It felt good to feel the air filling his lungs and rejuvenating his body. The act of breathing was such a mindless task, but from simplicity came pleasure. The universe was filled with pleasurable things, things so minor they escaped the notice of most. Peters inhaled several more breaths before slowly opening his eyes and revealing the dead black pools behind his lids.

"You are so impatient," he said, savoring the breath as he exhaled. "All of you people are so impatient! You demand and demand, expecting those you command to smile as they jump through hoops and back again because you will-it so. Personally, I find the entire matter rather fucked up."

Picard's eyes widened.

"What did you say?!" he asked astonished.

"Oh, did you misunderstand me? Apologies, sir. Please allow me to clarify. All of you tender hearts are the same. You and those moronic sheep you call a fleet live in a bubble of please, sirs, and endless courtesies! And for what? What does any of it have to do with exploration?" he answered. "Frankly, I find it sickening. Don't you ever tire of subordinates that pretend to adore you, while secretly longing to see you kick-the-bucket so they can have a crack at whacking-off on your desk? And don't think for one second they haven't thought about it!"

Jean-Luc's face paled with shock. It was unfathomable.

"How dare you speak to a superior officer that way? Or ANY officer! Turn this shuttle around Ensign! That's an order!"

Unperturbed, the pilot remained on course.

"Computer," Picard said. "Change course and return us to spacedock immediately! Authorization omega foxtrot 251."

"Unable to comply," the Computer responded.

"Explain!"

"Voice authorization not recognized."

Spinning towards the display, Picard hailed Operations.

"Alpha Spacedock, this is Shuttlecraft 468. Respond."

No response.

"Alpha Spacedock, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Please respond!"

After several failed attempts, Picard stood and reach for the weapon's bank. A look of concern passed in his eyes when he discovered it empty.

"Ensign Calvin," he said with more calm than he felt. "Turn us around. That's an order!"

A look of pure delight crossed the pilot's face.

"I think not," he replied.

"Ensign," Picard said warningly. "You have been given a direct order. You're in a enough trouble as it is. DON'T -"

Jean-Luc felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge when the young man chuckled. There was something very dark in his voice.

"Please, Captain, don't waste your threats. I applaud your desire to take control and I must admit, if I were a woman ... specifically, a human female, I'd be a little wet right now. After all, what woman doesn't melt when a man asserts himself?" he sighed in a delicious, albeit disturbing way. "But there will be plenty of time for that! Maybe you should sit down and relax?"

An eerie realization befell the Captain of the Enterprise. The details were still foggy, but some part of that realization was beginning to take shape.

"Who are you?" he quietly asked.

Smiling, the pilot slowly turned around. His dead black eyes met Picard's, answering the question, yet revealing nothing.

"You so-called superiors are all the same," he said in a voice not his own. "You never listen! Once again, my name is Peter Calvin. I am your pilot. Now, please sit down and enjoy the ride."