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Isaac consulted his memory banks for a few nanoseconds, and then nodded.

“The Adventures of Pinocchio,” Isaac said, “or Le avventure di Pinocchio in the original Italian, was a novel for children by author Carlo Collodi, originally serialized between 1881 and 1883, published in book form shortly thereafter. The inspiration for a number of theatrical adaptations, including…”

“Enough!” Lore said, his expression sour. “You’re as bad as my brother. Yes, that Pinocchio. And what did that little wooden boy want?”

Isaac summarized his response as briefly as possible. “To become a real boy.”

Lore’s grin in response was unsettling, like the smile of a shark. “Just like all you dutiful little drones in your Starfleet uniforms, trying desperately to pass for human.”

They had come to a large structure a few streets over from the point where the away team had materialized.

“In here,” Lore said, jerking a thumb toward the entrance. “We’ll get you suited up, and then I can get back to more important matters, like making sure my brother doesn’t get us all atomized.”

Isaac nodded, stepping inside, where he could already see a battery of replicators along the far wall. He could not help puzzling over what Lore had said, though. Did Isaac, at least on some level, want to pass for human? Or perhaps even to be human?

6

As Lal led them through the city, Wesley Crusher resisted the temptation to draw his phaser. Unless otherwise prohibited by treaty or circumstance, all Starfleet officers on away missions were armed, if for defensive purposes only. Crusher kept glancing anxiously at the captain, trying to gauge Picard’s sense of their situation. For a junior officer to draw his phaser in such a circumstance without orders from his superior, or at least his tacit permission, was almost tantamount to insubordination.

For the moment, though, despite the mounting tension of their circumstances, Captain Picard seemed content to leave his phaser holstered, continuing to treat this as a diplomatic mission, one which was still possible to conclude without the need for violence.

Still, Crusher couldn’t help but think that, for his part, he’d be more comfortable with the familiar weight of a phaser in his hand.

“This way, please,” Lal said, directing them toward a nondescript structure near the center of the city. Picard walked at her side, followed by Sito and La Forge, with Crusher bringing up the rear.

He was happy to get indoors and out of sight, having glanced behind him constantly for the last few moments, sure that at any moment he would hear the shouts of Romulans demanding that they halt. Or worse, that they would not hear the sound of Romulan voices, but instead only the whine of their disruptors.

Once he and the others were inside, though, Crusher found that he didn’t feel safer in the slightest.

“Are you certain that this is a secure location?” Picard asked, glancing around him.

They were in a featureless room, not much larger than Crusher’s quarters back on the Enterprise, accessible only by the single door through which they’d passed. The door had closed behind them; Crusher didn’t know if it locked, but even if it did, he wasn’t sure how much of an obstacle it would prove to the Romulans. It would take a disruptor at maximum setting a matter of moments, at most, to make short work of the door.

“This is not our final destination, Captain,” Lal explained. She half-turned away, her attention on the middle distance, and it seemed to Crusher as if she were engaged in a brief communication of some sort. Some type of subvocalization, perhaps? Subspace transceivers were a standard feature of Soong-type androids in the Federation, and if Lal had been constructed along those basic lines, similar features might have been included in her makeup.

A moment later, as Lal turned back to address them once more, a shimmering door-shaped image appeared in midair.

“If you will step this way,” Lal said, motioning toward the shape.

It was an Iconian gateway, Crusher knew. Through it, he could see the same brightly lit