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Moments earlier, in engineering, Will Riker stood beside Worf and stared at the diagram of sensor information on the monitor screen. On the console beside them, a Romulan tricorder lay attached to a diagnostic scanner.

Riker frowned at the screen and tried to make sense of the readout; he was having far better luck with it than he was in making sense out of the attack on Amargosa.

“One of the dead Romulans had a tricorder,” Worf was explaining. “We analyzed its sensor logs and found they were scanning for signature particles of a compound called trilithium.”

Riker lifted an eyebrow. “Trilithium?”

Worf gave a single, solemn nod. “An experimental compound the Romulans have been working on. In theory, a trilithium-based explosive would be thousands of times more powerful than an antimatter weapon. But they never found a way to stabilize it.”

Let’s hope that’s still true, Riker thought. Aloud he asked, “Why were they looking for it on a Federation observatory? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Worf did not answer. Riker paused, still looking at the readout on the screen but seeing the dead on Amargosa. The terrible destruction might not make any sense, but it had happened for a reason—a reason that perhaps the survivors knew, but weren’t telling.

He released a silent sigh and glanced at the Klingon. “Have Geordi and Data go over with the next away team. Tell them to scan the observatory for trilithium.”

It was just as well they hadn’t had time for that sip of Saurian brandy, Geordi decided, as he scanned the

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interior of the observatory operations room; as much as he had enjoyed his time with Data in Ten-Forward, he wouldn’t want to beam down into a place like Amargosa with anything but a totally clear head.

Only the auxiliary lights were functional—just bright enough to allow humans to see, dim enough to give a gloomy, twilight effect. That, combined with the scorched ruins and utter silence, made for a decidedly eerie atmosphere, Geordi decided; or maybe it was just the fact that he knew people had died here. It was sad to see their years of work carelessly scattered, to see consoles bashed in, monitors blasted. He worked with the same hushed reverence he felt visiting graveyards.

Data, on the other hand, seemed unsettlingly cheerful, still glowing with enthusiasm for his new internal world; he smiled faintly to himself as he scanned the other side of ops with his tricorder. Geordi peered at the tricorder readout and shook his head. “There’s no sign of any trilithium in here ….I can’t imagine why the Romulans were looking for it.”

He scanned quietly for a moment longer, until Data released a soft giggle. He turned to look at his friend in perplexed amazement.

Data continued to laugh softly to himself. “I get it. I get it.”

Geordi frowned; it didn’t seem right to be laughing where people had so recently been murdered—but he tried not to let his irritation show. After all, Data had never before experienced fear of death, and could accept it more matter-of-factly than a human. And maybe since he wasn’t used to having emotions, he wasn’t that good at suppressing them, either.

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“You get what?” he asked the android.

Data erupted in laughter again, then finally controlled himself enough to gasp out, “When you said to Commander Riker”—and he perfectly mimicked Geordi’s voice—” ‘The clown can stay, but the Ferengi in the gorilla suit has to go.’” Geordi stared blankly at him. “What?”

“During the Farpoint mission. We were on the bridge and you told a joke. That was the punch line.”

“The Farpoint mission? Data, that was seven years ago.”

“I know. I just got it.” The android began giggling again. “It was very funny.”

Geordi shot him a dubious glance before turning away. “Thanks…”

He headed down a short corridor that connected the main operations room with several compartments; Data followed, still chuckling softly.

Geordi stopped abruptly in front of what appeared to be a standard bulkhead. He turned excitedly to Data. “Wait a minute. There’s a hidden doorway here. I can see the joint of the metal with my VISOR.” He ran his finger in a vertical line over the deceptively smooth metal.

Data stepped beside him and scanned the section with his tricorder, then frowned at the readout. “There appears to be a dampening field in operation. I cannot scan beyond the bulkhead.”

Geordi slung his tricorder over his shoulder and pressed his hands against the metal, trying to coax it open. “I don’t see a control panel… or an access port.” “It appears to be magnetically sealed.” Data put his

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own tricorder away, then peeled back the pale golden flesh on his wrist to reveal flashing circuitry. As he spoke, he made a deft adjustment. “I believe I can reverse the polarity by attenuating my axial servo.”

He finished his task, then waved his exposed circuitry over the bulkhead panel. “Open sesame.”

From within the panel came a hum, followed by a loud click. The door slid open; Data turned toward his friend with a smug grin. “You could say I have a… magnetic personality.”

I’ve created a monster, Geordi thought, but restricted himself to a grimace. Maybe if he ignored the android’s annoying attempts at humor, they would pass. He moved quickly into the small room, which housed several probes stacked in holding racks, and began again to scan.

Almost immediately, he realized that they were very close to discovering the reason for the attack and turned to Data. “I’m still not picking up anything. Someone went to a lot of trouble to shield this room.”

He put his tricorder away and moved over to the probes, ignoring Data, who was still snickering at the accumulated punch lines of a lifetime. One probe in particular—smooth and dark as polished onyx, the size of a burial tube—caught Geordi’s attention.

“Data, take a look at this.” He glanced over his shoulder at the android, who hurried over. “You ever seen a solar probe with this kind of configuration?”

Grinning maniacally, Data held his tricorder toward Geordi like a puppet, then opened and closed it rapidly, like a ventriloquist making a mannequin speak. “‘No, Geordi, I have not.’” He then turned the tricorder

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toward himself, as though it were addressing him: “‘Have you?’” He shook his head solemnly, answering his makeshift puppet. “No, I have not. It is most unusual.”

He burst into high-pitched laughter; Geordi felt his own expression harden. That~ it, Data; the minute I get you back on the Enterprise, that chip coming out …. “Just help me get this panel open,” he said shortly.

Data controlled himself long enough to comply. Soon the panel swung open.

“Whoa!” Geordi recoiled. “My VISOR’s picking up something in the theta band. It could be a trilithium signature …. “

Data erupted into giggles.

This time, Geordi made no attempt to hide his irritation. “Data, this isn’t the time—”

“I am sorry,” Data gasped between peals of laughter; his eyes were wide with alarm. “But I cannot stop myself. I think something is wrong …. “

His laughter soon escalated to full-blown hysteria. As Geordi watched, helpless, the android’s limbs began to tremble and jerk, as if he were having a seizure. A rapid cascade of emotions convulsed his features: anger, joy, passion, terror, hate, longing, in such rapid succession that to Geordi they were a blur.

He ran to his friend’s side just as Data collapsed. “Data!” He knelt beside the android and put a hand on his shoulder. “Data, are you all right?”

Data’s eyes flew open, then focused on Geordi, who helped the blinking android sit up.

“I believe the emotional chip has overloaded my positronic relays,” he said with mild but distinct surprise.

“We’d better get you back to the ship.” Geordi hit his comm badge. “La Forge to Enterprise.”

No response. Geordi frowned for a split second, then realized—the dampening field, of course. But before he could react, a voice spoke softly: “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

He turned to see one of the observatory scientists—a thin, pale-haired civilian dressed in black—standing in the doorway. The sight startled him for a fleeting instant; the observatory had been so silent, he’d assumed no one had yet returned. Recovering, he said, “Oh… Doctor. Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. There’s a dampening field in here blocking our comm signal.” He nodded at Data, still sitting on the floor. “Will you give me a hand?” The scientist stepped toward them. “I’d be happy to.” He said it kindly enough that Geordi took no alarm— not until the last second, when he saw the scientist glance swiftly at the partially dismantled probe, saw the distress cross the pale man’s features, saw the phaser held by the man’s side.

By then it was too late. Geordi tensed, thought to make a move for the phaser; it did not occur to him to shield himself from the man’s other hand. The fist caught his cheek and jaw with a resounding dull thud and sent the VISOR hurtling. There was a millisecond burst of unbearably brilliant color, then darkness—a darkness that deepened the instant his head struck the floor.