Number One, join me in the ready room.
Yes, sir.
I've come from a meeting with Admiral Moore.
He wanted to discuss... this.
Recognize it?
Sounds like an SOS.
Good guess. You're quicker than Starbase research.
They took hours to realize it was a distress beacon.
- When was it detected? - Last month.
Just kicked in without any warning.
- Who used the beacon? - It's Terran.
I'm familiar with most Earth codes and...
Interesting.
Yes. That code hasn't been used in centuries.
- What was its origin point? - Ficus Sector.
There's no record of an Earth colony there.
Now we know someone's out there and they're asking for help.
- But who? - Let's try and find out.
Computer, download all information regarding
signal beacon from Starbase mainframe.
Distress beacon used by the European Hegemony.
The European Hegemony?
A loose alliance formed in the early 22nd century.
The first stirrings of a world government. Read more history.
Computer, locate the exact dates
in which this signal beacon was in general use.
Old Earth calendar, 2123 until 2190.
No extraterrestrial source ever used this code?
Negative.
Computer, locate all Earth deep-space launches from 2123 to 2190, ...
..with the destination in or near the Ficus Sector.
Working.
Nothing for Ficus.
Damn it, who's out there?
Lost sheep.
Let's see if we can find them.
Medical emergency. Dr Pulaski to the bridge.
What happened?
He just collapsed, sir.
Space, the final frontier.
These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise.
Its continuing mission, to explore strange new worlds,...
..to seek out new life and new civilizations,...
..to boldly go where no one has gone before.
Captain's log, stardate 42823.2.
We're departing from Starbase 73
to investigate the source of the mysterious distress signal.
Meanwhile, my Security Officer remains in sickbay,
where Dr Pulaski is searching for the cause of his collapse.
- I'm fine. - You're not. You fainted.
I did not faint. Klingons do not faint.
Excuse me. I'll rephrase.
This Klingon suffered a dramatic drop in blood pressure.
His blood glucose level dropped.
There was deficient blood flow resulting from circulatory failure.
In other words, he curled up his toes,
and lay unconscious on the floor.
Doctor, there is no need to insult me.
Worf, I am worried.
Now, something is wrong. Klingons don't faint.
Forgive me. I can't think of another word.
You're sick.
- Klingons do not yield to illness. - Stay still.
I have to check something with the computer.
Lieutenant, you have rop'ngor.
- But that is a childhood ailment. - Yes.
How shall I live down the humiliation?
- Worf, you can't help... - Still,
for a warrior to find himself in such a situation.
So you've got the Klingon version of the measles.
How would Cmdr Riker feel if he had the measles?
- Pretty silly. - Doctor, how is Lt Worf?
He's in no danger.
Worf was... just observing a Klingon ritual involving fasting.
He didn't take into account that you must decrease physical activity
as you decrease caloric intake.
Pulaski out.
Thank you. I am in your debt.
Come.
Captain, I've been considering the problem of the missing ship.
The lack of any record of a launch to Ficus
would not be unusual in the chaos of the early 22nd century,
but someone loaded that ship.
- The manifest. - Yes, sir.
There it is. SS Mariposa. Loaded 27th November, 2123.
Destination, Ficus Sector. Capt Walter Granger commanding.
Mariposa. The Spanish word for butterfly.
- Thank you, Data. - I thought it might be significant.
- It doesn't appear to be, Data. - No, sir.
You learn a lot from luggage.
225 computers, five monitor-beacon satellites,
700 cellular comlinks, 50 spinning wheels...
- Spinning wheels? Access. - Cattle, chickens, pigs...
A device used for spinning yarn which consists of a large wheel...
Why would anyone carry such an insane mix of cargo?
They were planning for the worst?
Theorize, Data. Give me some background.
In the early 22nd century, Earth was recovering from World War III.
A major philosopher then was Liam Dieghan.
He began the Neo-Transcendentalists, advocating return to a simpler life.
One lived in harmony with nature and learned under her tutelage.
Thank you, Data.
But if this was a ship full of utopians,
why carry all this technological baggage?
I have insufficient information upon which to form a theory, sir.
Doctor.
I wished to thank you for protecting my...
Your secret is safe with me.
Worf, I am honoured.
No one has ever performed the Klingon tea ceremony for me.
- There. That should do it. - You know the ceremony?
I understand the externals, not the mysteries. I'm not a Klingon.
Do not drink the tea. It is deadly to humans.
And none too good for Klingons.
It is a test of bravery, of one's ability to look at mortality.
It is also a reminder that death is an experience best shared.
- Like the tea. - Worf, you're a romantic.
It is among the Klingons that love poetry achieves its fullest flower.
Hold that thought.
Antidote.
If we're going to share, let's share.
Now, quote me a little of that poetry.
- Initiate sensor sweeps. - Aye, sir.
The system's sun has entered a period of severe flare activity.
That explains the SOS.
Class-M readings from the fifth planet in the system.
- Take us in. - Shields at maximum.
Sensors indicate human life forms 30 meters below the planet's surface.
Hailing on all frequencies.
No response, but the flares may interfere with communications.
There's no evidence of an advanced communication network.
Where's that technology they brought?
There is no artificial power source on the planet.
Stellar flares are increasing in magnitude and frequency.
Computer projections indicate they will brush the planet in 3.6 hours.
Evacuation will be difficult.
We can lower shields for transport only between flares.
Captain, these people have been isolated for 300 years.
They could be very unsophisticated.
The shock of being transported onto a spaceship could frighten them.
Your point is well taken, Counsellor.
Number One, you're going to have to go down there.
On my way.
Captain's log, stardate 42827.3.
Cmdr Riker has reached the caverns,
where he's making preparations for the evacuation.
- What's the situation, Number One? - There are 200 people here.
- Their condition? - Surprisingly good.
- Will they leave? - Yes, but...
- Get them up here. - I'm debating with their leader...
No time, Number One. Initiate transport.
- But, sir... - Any problems we'll address up here.
Aye aye, sir, we're on our way. All of us. Riker out.
First load ready, Mr O'Brien.
Energizing.
Captain, you'd better get somebody down here. Right away.
Take the pig out now, will ya? Very good.
O'Brien, that third wave should be ready.
Shoo, damn ya! Shoo!
Aye, sir.
O'Brien, is it?
I should've known t'would be an Irishman running the ship.
- What the devil is going on here? - Capt Picard, is it?
The man who makes decisions for us without so much as a by-your-leave.
This is my Security Chief, Lt Worf.
I don't suppose security is a problem for you.
Danilo Odell, sir, at your service.
- Why are these animals here? - Sorry, sir.
It was this or arguing till hell froze over.
Capt Picard, sir, we can't leave our animals here to die.
Besides, how could we build our future without our animals?
Alright.
Chief O'Brien, transport this group directly to cargo hold seven.
And beam the remaining refugees from the planet directly to that hold.
Right, lads. Everybody back onto the infernal machine.
Alright, everybody up.
Captain, t'was very good of you, sir, to rescue us from our troubles.
My pleasure.
You must be worth quite a bit to own a fine ship like this.
I don't own the Enterprise. I command her.
Whatever. Sir, would you happen to be married?
- No. Why? - No.
Well, you see, sir, I have a daughter.
Felicitations.
- Would you be interested, sir? - No.
- You're quite sure? - Quite sure.
He's quite sure.
- What's the total? - 223.
Count on two more in the next few days.
Head for the nearest starbase.
They were anachronistic in 2123. I wonder how they'll cope.
They'll learn and adapt.
Odell will be running this place within a week.
- Lt Worf here. Report. - Fire in cargo hold seven.
- The Bringloidi. - What have they done now?
Keep the area clear.
- Report. - Fire has been contained. No damage.
Unseal the doors.
My God, Picard, the place is a bloody deathtrap!
Lightning bolts falling from the ceiling.
What the hell was that thing?
Automated fire system.
A force field contains the flame until the remaining oxygen is used.
What if I'd been under that thing?
You would have been in the fire.
Yeah, well, I mean what would have happened to me?
You would have suffocated and died.
Sweet mercy.
There you are. Your hospitality leaves a hell of a lot to be desired.
You don't offer us a bite or sup,
and when we build a fire to cook, the place goes mad!
I... My apologies.
I was unaware that you had not been instructed
in the use of the food dispensers.
What are you staring at? Never seen a woman before?
I thought I had.
Commander, may I present my daughter? Brenna Odell.
Pleased to meet you, ma'am.
You may have all the time in the world,
but I've got frightened children and women to care for.
What about the men?
I'm sure they'll find their comfort. In the bottom of a mug of brew!
Pay no heed, Commander, she's a fine girl.
She's not usually so sharp-tongued.
Dado!
Sir?
That's the last thing I expected.
Sometimes, Number One,
you just have to... bow to the absurd.
Captain, sir, how did the ship sense the fire?
- Well, the ship's computer... - Computer?
The ship's computers sense a localized increase...
Men! Always talking when there's work to be done.
Shouldn't you be flying this ship or whatever it is you do?
Sir, I think I'll stay and help.
That isn't necessary. The ship will clean itself.
Well, good for the bloody ship.
Tell me, Cmdr Riker, where does a girl go to wash her feet here?
As First Officer, I feel it's my responsibility
to show you all the amenities.
She is much like a Klingon woman.
Captain, there's just one other thing. It slipped my mind.
All the hustle and bustle.
The point, Mr Odell.
Yeah. Well, in all your travels,
have you heard anything from the other colony?
The other colony?
Captain's log, supplemental. Stellar charts reveal a Class-M planet
only half a light year from the Bringloid system.
I presume it was the destination of the colony
which owned the sophisticated equipment.
William Riker, you're a mess.
- You don't have to do that. - If I don't, who will?
I can see why your father wants to marry you off.
And why is that?
So he can have a pipe and a beer in peace.
You've shown me so many wonders on your great ship,
but there's one thing left.
What's that?
I'm still waiting to wash my feet.
Right behind that door.
William, is something wrong?
What do you mean?
Do you not like girls?
Of course I do.
Is there a special technique to this foot washing?
You generally start at the top and work your way down.
I think I can handle that.
I was hoping you might.
- You sent for me? - Yes...
Now, we're brewing poteen, but we need to find a way to heat it
without this bloody ship firing bloody lightning bolts at us.
You can get spirituous liquor from the food dispensers.
It's not that synthehol bilge O'Brien offered me, is it?
No. If you wish, it can be real alcohol.
- Good. - With all the deleterious effects.
As it should be.
You see, lad, every moment of pleasure in life
has to be purchased by an equal moment of pain.
Whiskey.
Terrible. It has no bite.
Chech'tluth.
Now that's what I call a wee drop of the creature.
Father!
Remember what I said about the moment of pain? 'Tis about to begin.
Hello, my darlin'.
My darlin', is it? I might've known.
Can you still talk to Dr Pulaski about the children?
What about them?
She wants to send them to school.
- What do you think? - I think it's a good idea.
So go handle it!
And I'm sure there's something you can be doing with your time.
- And as for you! - What?
Why tell them this magic wall gives more than meat and potatoes?
Now they'll never work.
Madam, have you ever considered a career in security?
If it's like baby-sitting, I'm an expert.
Captain's log, supplemental. We are approaching the Class-M planet
where we hope to find the other colonists.
Signal from the planet, Captain.
On screen.
This is Capt Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise,
from the United Federation of Planets.
This is wonderful. Welcome, Captain.
I am Wilson Granger, Prime Minister of Mariposa.
No doubt a descendant of Capt Walter Granger.
Not quite a descendant.
We feared Earth had met disaster when no one came for us.
I'm afraid the truth is you got lost in the bureaucracy.
But despite the lateness of our arrival,
we're here now and eager to renew ties.
Splendid. Please come down and allow us
to extend our hospitality to you and your crew.
Thank you. Form an away team, Number One.
- I would urge caution. - Caution? What's wrong?
- He's hiding something. - We'll check it out. Mr Worf?
Dr Pulaski, come to transporter room three for an away detail.
Welcome to Mariposa. I'm Victor Granger, Minister of Health.
Cmdr William Riker. Dr Pulaski. Lt Worf.
A pleasure. I'll escort you to the Prime Minister. This way, please.
Twin brothers?
Your arrival is serendipitous.
How so?
Well, ... perhaps I'll let the Prime Minister explain that.
Triplets?
Worf, there is something damn odd going on here.
Quadruplets.
Doctor, is your title scientific or medical?
- Medical. - Excellent.
Is there some medical problem we should know about?
I think it best if the...
Prime Minister explains. I thought you might.
Yes. Excuse me.
Gentlemen?
Please, follow me.
This way.
Doctor.
Welcome to Mariposa.
Dr Katherine Pulaski.
My Chief of Staff, Elizabeth Vallis.
Tell me, is your entire population made up of clones, Prime Minister?
Clones?
Clones?
Clones.
Captain's log, supplemental.
Prime Minister Granger desires an urgent meeting
to discuss the future of the Mariposan colony.
I've invited him to the Enterprise.
Captain, we need your help.
300 years ago, during our landing on Mariposa,
the skin of our ship was breached.
Only five of the colonists survived.
The progenitors weren't willing to just give up and die,
and they were scientists...
So, they used that expertise and turned to cloning.
Yes. We had no other option.
Two women and three men were an insufficient gene pool
from which to build a society.
How did you suppress the natural sexual drive? Drugs? Punitive laws?
In the beginning, a little bit of each.
Now, after 300 years,
the entire concept of sexual reproduction is repugnant to us.
How did you overcome the problem of replicative fading?
We haven't.
You have got a problem.
I don't understand replicative fading.
Each time you clone, you make a copy of a copy. Errors creep in.
Eventually you get a nonviable clone.
- How can we help you? - We need an infusion of fresh DNA.
I was hoping you would be willing to share some tissue samples.
You want to clone us?
- Yes. - No way, not me.
- How could you possibly be harmed? - It's not a question of harm.
One William Riker is... unique, perhaps even special.
But a hundred of him diminishes me in ways I can't even imagine.
You would be preserving yourself.
Human beings have other ways of doing that. We have children.
I think you will find that attitude prevalent
among all the Enterprise people.
I see.
Well, ... if you are not willing to share your DNA,
can your people help repair our malfunctioning equipment?
Of course. Number One, put a team together.
- Let's start. - Yes, sir.
La Forge, gather a technical support away team in transporter room three.
Captain, with your permission, may I return to the planet?
It could be my last chance to study replicative fading.
With your permission, Mr Prime Minister.
You are welcome. Perhaps you will find a solution we've overlooked.
I appreciate the compliment, but I don't think that's very likely.
And repairing that equipment will certainly not solve your problems.
What other solution do we have?
Doctor, remember, there are only five of us.
Captain's log, supplemental.
Cmdr Riker and Dr Pulaski have returned to Mariposa
with a team of Enterprise technicians.
We're almost finished. I wish there was more we could do.
Are you sure you won't reconsider?
- About the cloning? - Out of the question.
Excuse me, sir, I was... I was looking for Cmdr Riker.
- I'm afraid I haven't seen him. - Dr Pulaski?
Sorry, I can't help.
I'll just have to hunt for them. Sorry to disturb you.
What happened to you two on Mariposa? Everything alright?
Any reason it shouldn't be?
Whenever I asked where you were, they lied.
Lied?
With this I can see better than most people.
If someone lies, there are physiological manifestations.
Variations in blush response, pupil dilation, pulse, breath rate.
It's hard with aliens, but humans? Got 'em nailed.
They lied about our whereabouts? I don't remember anything happening.
I was working and got a call to report to Granger's office.
- I ran into Will... - Wait a minute.
Granger said he hadn't seen either of you.
- Did you make it to his office? - I think...
I don't remember.
What's the prognosis?
Geordi, you're not missing any epithelial cells.
- Great. - Will and l, however, are.
- Meaning? - While you can clone from any cell,
those lining the stomach are best as they are undifferentiated.
- Where're you going? - The cloning lab.
Stop!
- Murderers. - Like hell. Damn thief!
- Gentlemen, please. - What else could we do?
We asked for your help and you refused us. We're desperate.
- That gave you the right to rob us? - We have the right to survive.
Doctor, how desperate is the colony's situation?
In two or three generations the fading will be terminal.
They're among the walking dead now. They're just unburied.
I want their equipment inspected. Who knows what else they stole.
We have a right to exercise control over our own bodies.
You'll get no argument from me.
I know the Mariposan culture seems alien, even frightening,
but really, we have much in common.
They're humans fighting for survival. Would we do less?
Are you saying we should give them the DNA?
That's just postponing the inevitable.
If they get an infusion of fresh DNA,
in 15 generations they'll go back to the same problems.
Cloning isn't the answer. What they need is breeding stock.
- The Bringloidi. - Yes.
They have energy and drive,
the clones have the emotional maturity and technical knowledge.
They started out together. It seems only... fitting they end up together.
It's a match made in heaven.
It will have to be a shotgun wedding.
Captain, it's out of the question.
You're trying to dump your problems on us.
Don't you understand? The Bringloidi can help you.
Look at him. How could we ever integrate that into our society?
You're no prize yourself.
Primitive, hostile, disruptive.
It would require enormous efforts to even educate them.
Forget it, Capt Picard.
I'm not coming, hat in hand, begging charity from this blatherskite.
Stop! I will not allow posturing and bigotry to destroy this meeting.
Now, please, sit down.
Now, ... Cmdr Riker has asked that your laboratories be inspected
for stolen tissue samples. I understand his concern.
We may have to transport all your equipment to the Enterprise.
I see. When reason fails, you'll resort to blackmail.
Fine. Destroy yourselves.
It's not so bad.
In 50 years, we'll have a Class-M planet, ready for colonisation.
You see, the end is closer than you like to think.
I don't know. There are so many difficulties.
Look, man, we are decent, hard-working people.
We're willing to learn.
They're so different.
It is the differences that have made us strong.
For 300 years, we have denied the carnal side of our nature.
How can we learn to put that aside?
Well, you put a young couple together...
..and you let nature take its course.
For this to work, you'll have to alter your society, too.
Monogamous marriage will not be possible for several generations.
I don't quite understand.
30 couples are enough to create a viable genetic base.
But the broader the base, the healthier the society.
So it will be best if each woman, Bringloidi and Mariposan,
had at least three children by three different men.
I think I could handle that, yes.
God, it's so...
- Frightening? - Repugnant.
So, it's a done deal.
And here's my hand on it.
Now, let's go and stake out my three women.
Send in the clones.
I must be out of my mind.
Starfleet will probably agree with you.
Excuse me, sir. Captain. Thank you, sir. Brenna...
Brenna. A word.
Isn't that just like a man?
Make grandiose decisions and never consider the poor women.
Miss Odell, I...
You men draw a mug and solve your problems as the beer goes down,
but when it comes to the practical matters,
it always falls to women to make your dreams come true.
- Miss Odell, you wanted a new home. - I don't know if I want to be Eve.
It's your choice.
If you wish, we will drop you off at a starbase,
and you can go where you wish.
Leave my da?
If this is going to work,
these people will need your strength, your guidance.
Damn.
What does he do again?
- Prime Minister. - Sounds important.
It is.
So he might have more than two coins to rub together.
Three husbands?
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