Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [105]
M-5 processed the tactical data, sent test pulses to the space station’s defensive and offensive systems, analyzed sensor readings of the threat forces, ran several dozen combat simulations … and then defaulted to the fundamental directive its creator had encoded into its engrammic matrix: Survive. Protect yourself.
All around the station, nonessential systems were locked off; power rerouted to tactical operations; backup shield generators came online; targeting sensors recalibrated; phaser arrays and torpedo launchers shifted from “standby” to “ready.”
Seconds after it awoke, without warning or fanfare, M-5 opened fire with computer precision, synchronized salvos issuing from every functional weapons port the space station possessed as shield harmonics rotated randomly against incoming fire.
Two ships were utterly destroyed in the first three seconds, ripped open from bow to stern. M-5 locked onto the warp core signature of another vessel and directed three high-yield torpedoes at the spot, compensating for the moving target as it fired. As M-5 intended, the blast from the core breach took out a fourth ship that had maneuvered too close. Another ship attempted a suicide run at the space station, perhaps hoping to overwhelm M-5’s shields. M-5 reached out with a tractor beam, seizing the incoming vessel in its fist, and then sent it colliding into the path of still another enemy ship.
And as the battle raged on, M-5, for reasons even it couldn’t fathom, transmitted its century-old mantra to its attackers:
This unit must survive.
Chapter Twenty-Six
DATA HAD HOPED it would not be necessary to reactivate M-5. Though the entire story of Richard Daystrom and the rogue computer was not well known to the general public, among Starfleet computer specialists the name “M-5” packed the same punch as “Frankenstein” might for an experimental biologist. Though no one had ever conclusively proved that M-5 was self-aware (and, therefore, morally culpable for the deaths of hundreds of Starfleet officers and crew), Data understood that by giving it control over Vaslovik’s station, he might be unleashing as deadly a threat as the Exo III androids. In the end, Data was forced to rely on his intuition once again.
M-5’s primary motivation had always been self-preservation; if attacked, it would defend itself with whatever resources were at its command. And having seen the long-dormant computer with his own eyes, and recalling what Vaslovik had said about it being tied into his network for study and upkeep purposes, Data knew that M-5 might well be fully capable of taking autonomous control of the station’s defensive systems. It was, after all, what it had been designed for.
Now, if only we can keep ourselves from being killed in the process …
A tremendous explosion rocked Data’s cell seconds after he signaled M-5. A series of fractures so fine that no human would have been able to see them appeared near the bottom of one of the walls. Kneeling, Data pressed his fingers against the cracks while simultaneously pushing with his legs against the opposite wall. Data felt the metal begin to give, then tear under his fingertips. Finally, after several minutes of constant pressure, he was able to sink in the tips of his fingers and twist them from side to side. The metal was not meant to be subjected to such stresses and large chunks began to tear away. It wasn’t a tidy job and Data had sacrificed the outer layer of artificial skin on most of both hands, but he was soon free.
The corridor lights were low, but he didn’t know whether it was because of low power reserves or because the Exo III androids preferred dim lighting. The ship had been