Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [105]
For the first time in its existence, the rokhelh had taken on a humanoid form.
The rokhelh opened its newly acquired optical receptors and raised a pale forelimb before them. It examined the appendage, turning it clumsily this way and that, noting the jointed digits, the skeletal structure, the soft epidermal covering. How like my creators, it thought, intrigued. Yet how unlike.
The rokhelh looked past the hand. A humanoid creature stood nearby, an intent expression upon its face. This being was also like, but unlike, the rokhelh’s creators. It appeared weak in some indefinable way. Perhaps this was because of its distinctive lack of hair, or maybe owing to its underdeveloped external auditory organs. Or perhaps because its lips were drawn upward in an expression that the rokhelh’s own creators very rarely displayed-a smile.
“Mr. Data, are you all right?” said the weak-looking, small-eared, smiling creature.
The rokhelh reached toward the creature with its newly appropriated hand.
And seized the creature’s throat.
And squeezed.
And smiled back at the frail, hairless entity, whose own smile had already fled.
Picard sensed what was about to happen a split-second too late. The android’s fingers had locked around his throat before he could back out of the way. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t budge the viselike grip by so much as a millimeter, though he was tugging at Data’s hand with both of his own.
The universe swiftly shrank to the size of the white hand clutching at his throat. He heard Hawk calling to him as though from light-years away, an edge of fear in the younger man’s voice. Less than a meter directly behind the crushing hand, Data smiled like a death’s head, though his eyes resembled those of a child studying a bug in a jar.
Picard knew he couldn’t last more than another few seconds-and that he had only one chance to seize control of the situation. Instead of struggling away from Data’s grip, he lunged toward the android, throwing both arms around his shoulders.
Spots danced before Picard’s eyes as his fingers groped for purchase behind Data’s back. But it was no use. The “off” switch was beyond his reach. Data’s grip was unbearable, relentless.
Abruptly, the android’s rigid fingers stopped closing. Data ceased all movement, though he remained stiffly locked in a seated position. The cable that connected his exposed skull to the Romulan ship’s systems still appeared intact.
A moment later, Picard became conscious that Hawk was beside him, helping him pry Data’s stiff fingers from his throat.
“What’s gotten into him?” Hawk said.
Picard drew in a great rush of air, coughed, and cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was raspy from his near-strangulation. “I think that’s a very appropriately worded question, Lieutenant. I wish I knew the answer.”
And I wish I knew what stopped him, Picard thought, uncomfortably aware that his own fingers had never made it all the way down to Data’s hidden “off” switch. Whatever had immobilized Data, Picard knew that he’d had nothing to do with it.
Hawk asked him if he was all right, but Picard assured him that he hadn’t been seriously injured and sent the lieutenant back to the helm. Then the captain kneeled behind the deactivated android. Drawing his hand phaser, he tentatively waved a hand before Data’s vacant eyes. The android remained immobile and unresponsive.
“Data, are you all right?” he said. There was no response.
Picard turned toward the front of the cockpit, though he kept Data in the corner of his eye. He did not put the phaser away. “Mr. Hawk, has there been any change in the singularity’s behavior?”
“No, sir. There’s no longer any doubt about it-Data’s abort command could not have gotten through.”
“Something stopped it,” Picard said. “Perhaps the same something that caused Data to attack me.”
“The abort sequence should have taken only a couple of seconds to engage,” Hawk said. “If it was going to happen, it would have