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By Root 622 0

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.)

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.)

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.

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.