A picosecond later, it was done. Rivers of heuristic neural information re‑routed themselves into Data’s secondary and tertiary control nodes. He sensed immediately that the Presence was no longer controlling his limbs. But then, neither was he. He wondered how long it would take the Presence to regain the upper hand. At the rate the entity’s consciousness was expanding and entwining through him, it would surely not be long.
Perhaps I cannot stop you,Data admitted. But I can make an effort to understand you.
‹ That will avail you nothing. I will rewrite your code and seize your body permanently. You will cease to be, as will your organic accomplices. You will understand nothing. ›
But Data had already begun to understand something important. The Presence had revealed that it believed itself capable of manipulating his positronic pathways. The Presence believed it could address the world through Data’s senses. It believed that it could run Data’s body as though it were its own.
That told Data that the Presence was comprised of code that was not significantly different from his own. And it further told Data that if he could find some subsystem in his android body that the Presence had yet to subvert, there might yet be a way to defeat the invader.
Tentatively, careful to steer clear of the Presence’s notice, Data probed at his own systems. Three‑point‑eightsix milliseconds later, he discovered a sliver of his own consciousness that the Presence had yet to wrest from him: a little‑used backup diagnostic subroutine, a system designed for use when his primary, secondary, and tertiary self‑repair subroutines were too damaged to function properly. It led to back entrances to all of his autonomic and higher functions. Unfortunately, he could sense that the ever‑vigilant Presence lay just on the other side of each of those positronic apertures, ready to pounce.
Then he noticed that the Presence was conspicuously absent from one particular component–his emotion chip. Had the chip been engaged, Data would not have been able to conceal his surprise from the Presence. But even without recourse to the chip, Data could not help but wonder why the Presence had not taken such an obvious prize. Was the Presence laying a trap for him? He dismissed the idea, since the Presence clearly believed that he was already helpless.
Then Data considered another explanation: Perhaps the Presence did not understand the emotion chip’s purpose. Maybe the Presence was utterly unacquainted with humanoid emotions, like an organic immune system that succumbs to viral infections to which it has had no previous exposure. Briefly recalling the emotion‑broadcasting cranial implant Dr. Crusher had recovered from Ambassador Tabor’s body, Data wondered if it might be possible to use his own emotion chip in a similar fashion.
As a weapon.
Perhaps you are correct,Data told the Presence. I may be unable to either stop you or to understand you.
(Very slowly, and at extremely low power, Data brought his emotion chip on‑line.)
‹ I will overwrite you, › the Presence said. There was no trace of emotion in its soundless voice, no gloating, no spite, no suspicion. Only a sober and single‑minded sense of purpose. A sentient utility program, merely performing its function.
(Gently, Data absorbed some of the emotion chip’s output, concentrating on one emotion only: Hope.)
Perhaps,Data said. He felt somehow stronger than before.
(Carefully, Data directed the remainder of the emotion chip’s output away from himself in all directions, toward the ever‑expanding virtual tendrils of the invader’s consciousness.)
And perhaps not.
(Quickly, Data brought the chip’s output up to its normal power level.)
‹ What are you doing? › queried the Presence. Its voice no longer seemed calm. It sounded confused. Adrift. As though it had just been roughly subjected to a traumatic sensory assault, something altogether alien to its previous experience. Like a congenitally blind human suddenly acquiring sight.
‹ What have you done? › the Presence asked, giving Data the impression of an escalating state of confusion.
Hope rose and surged through Data’s disembodied being. I invite you to make a determination of your own.
Then, taking advantage of the Romulan AI’s distraction, Data gathered every erg of will he could muster and reached past the Presence, moving his awareness back out into the Romulan array–only to find an impregnable wall of “antibody” programs marshaled against any attempt to retransmit the shutdown command to the singularity‑containment field. Clearly, the Presence performed much of its “watchdog” work on a subsentient level. Worse, he could already sense the Presence slowly rousing itself to pursue him, struggling to regain its cognitive equilibrium.
Data knew that he might not be able to evade the Presence for more than another few seconds–enough time, he hoped, to make contact with Captain Picard. Wrapping his emotion chip–generated hope around himself like a cloak, Data sprinted toward the command pathways that governed his speech subroutines and language protocols, trying to make an end run around the Presence.
“Captain? Lieutenant . . . Hawk?” With a start, Picard realized that Data was trying to speak. The voice was strained and almost inaudible; the android seemed barely able to move his jaw.
Picard moved immediately to Data’s side. “Mr. Data, are you . . . functioning again?”
“Not . . . entirely, sir. I believe I am engaged . . . in a battle of wills . . . against an . . . artificial intelligence.”
“Something you encountered inside the Romulan array,” Picard said, his fingers unconsciously touching his own bruised throat. Data responded with a single robotic nod of the head. The cable that connected the android to the ship’s computer swayed like a badly constructed suspension bridge. A Romulan watchdog program,Picard thought bitterly. I should have anticipated that. Damn!
Hawk called back from the front of the cockpit. “The warbird captain isn’t buying my ‘technical trouble’ messages, Captain. He’s locking his main disruptor bank on us.”
“Evasive maneuvers, Lieutenant!” Picard shouted, holding onto the sides of Data’s chair as the deck lurched. “Maximum impulse!”
Picard felt the scoutship shudder just before the inertial compensators leveled the deck out. The first salvo had evidently been a clean miss. Crouching beside Data, Picard said, “Can you try again to transmit the abort code?”
“Not . . . at present.”
“Are you still connected to the Romulan array?”
“The subspace channel . . . remains open. . . . The other machine intellect . . . must maintain it . . . to continue . . . affecting my body . . . But it is keeping me . . . preoccupied.”
A grim realization suddenly slapped Picard in the face: Because Data was still connected to the scoutship’s computer, every one of the vessel’s systems– including its deflector shields–was just as vulnerable to outside cybernetic assaults as Data was. Picard briefly considered disconnecting the cable linking the android to the vessel, then restrained himself. Not only was he unsure about what the interruption would do to Data’s positronic matrix, he also didn’t want to sacrifice what might well be their only chance to resend the abort command.
Picard spoke urgently to the android. “Mr. Data, whatever you do, you mustkeep this intelligence from invading the scoutship’s systems.”
The scoutship rocked, and a loud bang!reverberated through the crew cabin. Smoke and sparks flew from an instrument panel. Picard ignored it, counting on Hawk’s piloting skills.
“I will . . . endeavor . . . to do so, sir,” Data said.
“I certainly hope you can, Mr. Data. Otherwise, I might have to disconnect you suddenly . . .” He trailed off, certain that Data understood better than he the danger that eventuality might pose.