"They're for my health, true enough. They're ant.i.toxins. There are six poisons that are particularly popular in the Klingon Empire. Just one of these pills counters all of them."

"And Tron used one of those six?"

"No," sighed Kobry. "Unfortunately, he used one of the other one hundred thirty seven. One can't be prepared for every eventuality. But even in an instance like that, my little health pills-taken whenever I'm going to eat, remember-gave me enough protection so that the splendid Dr. Pulaski could revive me."

"The Honorable Kobry was kind enough to warn me ahead of time about the precautions he had taken," said Pulaski. "He also suggested that, should the situation arise, I p.r.o.nounce him dead, just to prevent any further attacks on him while he lay relatively helpless."

"Yes, well next time I'd appreciate your telling me about such confidences and precautions. Is that understood, Doctor?" he said stiffly.

To his surprise she merely bobbed her head and said, "Yes, Captain."

"Actually, Captain, I blame myself," said Kobry ruefully. "I did not dream that my apparent death would escalate into warfare so rapidly. I did not allow for Tron's pushing my people forward and inciting them. Tron will of course be dealt with ... and, I suspect, his commander will have something to answer for, as well. In fact, I would like to see Tron in a bit, if that is in order with the doctor?" Pulaski nodded, still looking a bit distracted.

"So what happens now?" asked Riker. "The planet's gone, so that removes the main point of contention between Klingon and Kreel. And I doubt the attacks with the advanced weapons will be continuing. Geordi"- Riker shook his head, still not believing that La Forge was back and wondering how he had returned-"Geordi showed me Tiny. His pet weapon? After DQN 1196 vanished, it cracked like an egg. There was nothing inside."

"Nothing?" Picard almost laughed. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I don't know, sir," said Data. "Why not?"

"One would think," said Kobry, "that with the weapons and their source gone, there remains nothing to discuss. However, the Kreel do have grievances. They should be heard. They should not have to throw the equivalent of a tantrum to be attended to. There was a high cost, but nevertheless I will try to make things better for the Kreel. By the way, Counselor, I am curious about why, with your empathic ability, you did not detect Tron's murderous intentions at the party."

"I wasn't there," said Deanna. "I was kept occupied and distracted by the one called Sklar."

"Ah. Obviously, Tron was concerned you would realize and sought to keep you out until the deed was done. A good try, actually. Just ... insufficient."

"Captain," Katherine Pulaski suddenly said, "can I speak with you and Data for a moment? In private?"

Moments later, in Pulaski's office, she said, "I just wish to admit some shortsightedness in some matters."

"Doctor, I hardly think that's necessary," said Picard.

"No. It is. I'm afraid that the entire matter with Jaan and Wesley grew somewhat out of hand and ... it was my desire to see their needs fulfilled that prompted me to overcome your objections."

"Doctor." Picard smiled. "If you overcame any objections or uncertainties, it was not because it was against my will. I could have found ways to overrule you, you know. The redoubtable Katherine Pulaski can be overcome. If we erred in trying to accomplish something beneficial, that is hardly the worst way to do it."

Her mouth twitched in thought. "I suppose you're right. But there's one thing I should say. Data, you asked where the line between men and machines ends?"

"Yes."

"I still don't have the answer for that. But I'll tell you where it begins to blur for me. It's when a human feels the need to say to a machine ... that she's sorry."

"That," said Data, "is an excellent place to start."

Tron, alone in his holding cell, looked up with his one good eye. The other was obscured by an eye patch.

The Honorable Kobry stood there, leaning on a cane.

"You are destroying the Klingon Empire and all that makes us strong," said Tron.

Kobry merely stared at him and then spoke four words.

"You have no name."

He turned and walked away, and the screaming that filled his ears was music to them. Perhaps there was something to the concept of revenge after all.

"You will be leaving with your father?" asked Worf.

"Of course."

"There is a place for you in the Federation."

"Not as long as my father needs me. Still ... it's a small galaxy," smiled Gava. "Our paths may cross again."

"When?"

She paused. "How about now?"

"I cannot. I'm starting my second shift. So"- he stood and nodded his head once-"later then." He walked out of her quarters.

Gava sighed and leaned back.

Worf walked back in, and as the door slid shut behind him, he said, "I can always work three shifts tomorrow."

Wesley sat alone in his quarters, staring at the wall.

All the computer material had been removed, as had the journals, the experimental equipment, everything.

Wesley, rail-thin to begin with, had lost thirteen pounds. He needed to soak in a tub for at least two days. His face was the color of curdled milk and his eyes had lost their vigor. He needed, more than anything, a sound sleep.

Listlessly he said, "Come in," at the sound of the door buzzer.

Picard walked in and looked around. "Restored to normal, I see."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Crusher," and he sat down opposite him, "you've got to pull yourself together."

"I failed him."

"You didn't fail him. Jaan failed himself."

"No, sir, I failed him. I said that I would find a cure for his disease. I didn't even come close. I barely scratched the surface."

"You shouldn't have made promises that were beyond you."

"It wasn't beyond me," Wesley said with some degree of spark. "Or at least I didn't think it was beyond me."

"Mr. Crusher-Wesley- don't you see how far you've come? How many other young men have achieved the things you have? They don't have a fraction of your talent, of your intelligence ... "

"It's not enough," he said sullenly.

"It's more than enough! Wesley, don't you understand? Jaan was pushing you in to trying to do what you had no business trying."

"No he wasn't."

"It was his ability that Dr. Pulaski called 'the Knack.' It-"

"It wasn't the Knack!" For the first time in his life, Wesley raised his voice to Picard. "I did it! I wanted to do it! I wanted to help him! I could have helped him! If I'd worked harder, longer ... "

"You'd have killed yourself, son."

"Don't call me that! I'm not your son! I'm not anybody's son!"

Picard looked at him, shocked. "Wesley ... "

"I had to do it, don't you see? I had to find the cure. I have to be able to do anything I set my mind to. Don't you see? Anything!"

"Wesley, no one can do anything."

"I have to! I'm going to be able to! Not just engineering! That's easy for me. Too easy. That comes without my even trying. I've got to keep trying, working harder and harder, cover everything. Leave nothing to chance." The words were coming faster and faster, tumbling over each other. "No matter what happens, I'll be prepared. I'll know everything. I'll be able to handle everything. I'll come back. No matter what the mission is, no matter what happens, I'll always make it back."

"Of course, you'll make it back, Wes," said Picard in confusion, wishing like h.e.l.l he'd forced Deanna to do this. "Of course you'll make it-"

"HE DIDN'T!"

"Who?"

"My father! He didn't make it back!"

Picard stared at him in shock. "Wesley, your father was a good man. The best. His death ... it was an accident."

"I don't believe that! Any accident can be avoided if you know what to do! He didn't know what to do! Something happened and he wasn't ready and he wasn't prepared and he didn't come back! That's not going to happen to me! I-"

His voice choked back in his throat, and tears of exhaustion and grief began to roll down his face. "I'm not going to-to go and have a wife, and a kid, and then go out there and get killed and-and not come-come back-"

And Wesley Crusher, the Brain Trust, the boy who saved the ship time and again, came apart. He started to sob piteously, tears and grief that had been bottled up for years, and he said over and over, "Why didn't he come back? Why?"

And Jean-Luc Picard, he who supposedly hated children, he who had brought back the body of Wesley's father, now held the shaking body of Wesley Crusher in his arms.

Picard didn't know what to say. He'd been on that ship when Wesley's father had died. He knew that there was nothing that could have been done. It was the idea of the Right Stuff, from the early days of aviation. If someone died in a plane crash, the other pilots would try and figure out what he did wrong so that they could take solace in the concept that it would never happen to them-that the dead man's "stuff" hadn't been "right" enough.

And Picard realized that he didn't have to say anything, that he just had to be there-be there as Wesley's father and mother couldn't. Be there ... just for now. It wouldn't hurt anything. It wouldn't damage his reputation or destroy his ability to make decisions.

And he held him, just saying nothing, just being there, until Wesley succ.u.mbed to total exhaustion and fell asleep.

He picked the boy up and carried him to his bed, shaking his head at the total lack of weight on him. As soon as Wesley woke up, which would probably be in a day or so, Picard would have Pulaski give him a full physical. And Deanna Troi, who, lately, looked like she could use a successful case, would spend time with him helping him deal with everything that had happened.

And, with luck, Wesley probably wouldn't even remember this little crying jag of his. He certainly hoped Wesley wouldn't remember that he, Picard, had been holding him as he was now doing.

In a soft voice he said, "I expect to see you on the bridge in seventy-two hours, Mr. Crusher."

And from somewhere in the depths of his sleep, Wesley said, "Aye, sir."

Picard nodded approvingly as he turned to leave. It was exactly the answer he'd hoped to get.

Decorum had to be maintained, after all.