An excerpt:
But the story itself plods a bit. The beats are all depressingly predictable and obvious. Santos and Kalita are ciphers, Macias practically wears a neon sign that says “FATHER FIGURE” on his forehead, and everything proceeds exactly as you’d expect, particularly Macias’s oh-so-telegraphed death. It doesn’t help that Echevarria’s script is uncharacteristically clunky (much of the dialogue is flat and expository rather than conversational, even more so than is usual for TNG), and Stewart’s direction remains as lifeless as ever.