But all he could do at the moment was to cling to the hope that he wouldn’t have to face the answers to his own questions head-on.

Aloud, he said, “We’re about to attempt to gain control of the Romulan fleet’s computer network. I’ll check in with you again once that’s done, Commander. Riker out.”

Crandall carefully set his toolbox on a chair before one of the computer consoles, then uncovered an access panel. He then opened the toolbox and began carefully arranging his instruments on the oilcloth-lined interior of its lid.

“It seems…I don’t know, wrong somehow, to just wipe this Sleeper off the computer network,” the junior engineer said as he worked. “I feel almost like I’m helping to kill somebody.”

“In a way, you are,” Donatra said in matter-of-fact tones. “But what of it? We routinely patrol our computers for signs of our rokhelhartificial intelligences developing self-awareness. Whenever we detect such signs, we purge the affected systems.”

“We don’t have a lot of alternatives,” Riker said by way of encouragement to Crandall as Daehla began pulling her own small instruments and several hair-thin, glowing cables from a compact kit she carried on her hip.

“But why can’t we at least… talkto it first?” Crandall wanted to know.

Riker thought that was an excellent question. He cast a quick interrogative glance at Deanna.

Though her smile was gentle, her reply carried a therapist’s firm it’s-time-to-face-realitytone. “Besides the fact that we have virtually no common frame of reference with it, Mr. Crandall? Don’t forget, we’re talking about an anentropic pattern of inferred sentience that arrived here from an entirely alien, non-Euclidean universe whose physical laws in no way resemble our own.”

Riker’s eyes widened involuntarily. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Crandall looked chastened. “Oh. I suppose when you put it that way…”

Deanna offered the engineer a smile that shone through her helmet’s faceplate. “Your instinct is a good one, Ensign. But it could take decades or even centuries just for us to get this creature’s attention. A little like Micromegas.”

“Who?” said Crandall, pausing in confusion.

“Maybe six centuries ago, Voltaire, a writer from your home planet, told the story of Micromegas, a gigantic being from another world. He was so huge that it was just about impossible for him to see Earth people as living things worth communicating with. And heencountered other beings that were at least that large compared to him.”

Noting Donatra’s impatient glare, Riker placed a reassuring hand on Crandall’s shoulder. “Try not to worry about it toomuch, Ensign. Talking to our sleepwalking intelligence—or least to the computers it’s hijacked—is the rokhelhsoftware’s job, not ours.”

Riker watched in anxious silence as Crandall and Daehla each carefully hooked up their cables and handheld control units, working in tandem to create a pair of seamless interfaces with the warbird’s central computer, and thereby the entire fleet network. Though the entire operation had taken perhaps three minutes so far, Riker was uncomfortably aware of the passage of time. He couldn’t help but wonder what this so-called Red King might do if it were to discover what their plan was before they actually managed to carry it out.

“Actually, what you said a moment ago was only half right, sir,” Crandall said, as he confirmed his final connections with his engineering tricorder. Riker saw his face flush with color as he apparently realized how insolent he had sounded.

“Easy, Ensign,” Riker said. “I’ve never claimed to know everything. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Crandall sputtered and hawed for a moment, studiously avoiding looking at Riker as he resumed his work. “Yes, sir. What I meant was just that the rokhelhsoftware we’re installing now will replace the resident rokhelhsoftware that our Red King apparently corrupted, then resume that program’s task of talking to the network. And Chaka’s new algorithm will let the new rokhelhknow precisely what we expect it to do.”

“Let’s just hope the rokhelhwill see its way clear to following the new instructions we’re feeding it,” Jaza said. “From my previous experiences with artificial intelligences, they’re sometimes a rather independent lot.”

Riker couldn’t help but think of those few occasions when Data had malfunctioned, had been technologically manipulated, or had been impersonated by his predecessor, Lore; he couldn’t help but sympathize with Jaza’s apprehension.

As Crandall and Daehla began uploading software into the control panels of their respective interface units, Riker turned toward Donatra, who displayed a disapproving scowl.

“You seem to know a great deal about Romulan technology,” she said in a mildly accusing tone. “Hardware and software both.”

Riker nodded. “And it appears to be coming in handy just now.”

“Agreed. But how did you acquire this knowledge?”

He offered her what he assumed she would see as a slightly guilty-looking smile. “About seven years ago, the Enterprise’s second officer came into extremely close contact with one of your empire’s AI security programs.”

A look of understanding crossed Donatra’s face. “Ah. The late android, Data. He must have uploaded a good deal of rokhelhprogram code during that encounter.”

“A pretty fair portion, as it turned out,” Riker said. “Enough to enable one of Titan’s computer specialists to reverse-engineer most of the rest.”

“Since our arrival here in Neyel space?” Donatra said. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be tooimpressed,” Deanna said. “It isn’t as though Crewman Chaka whipped up this entire program today. Fortunately for us, she’s been studying the Enterprise’s rokhelhencounter as a sort of ‘pet project’ ever since she first entered Starfleet.”

Riker turned to his wife and grinned. “Looks like we may have lucked out this time.”

No sooner had he uttered those words than he found himself wishing, absurdly, for a stout piece of wood to knock on.

U.S.S. TITAN

Mekrikuk was startled out of a deep slumber. Suddenly aware, once again, of his surroundings— Titan’s sickbay, where he had remained confined ever since his rescue from the Vikr’l Prison on Romulus—the sensation that had awakened him persisted.

Somethinghad reached out for him, had touched his mind. At first, he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Then he closed his eyes. And the image came to him, very clearly.

Ships. Dozens of Romulan warbirds, as “seen” by one another’s external sensors, he supposed. All of them being driven by a single, unified intellect. An intellect whose thoughts were somehow obscured and jumbled, as though by a thick blanket of sleep.

That mind was now lashing out in extreme distress. Curiosity warred with caution, and won a narrow victory. Very carefully, Mekrikuk opened his mind, hoping to learn more about this unknown thoughtforce.

Then he screamed.

IMPERIAL WARBIRD RA’KHOI

“There,” Daehla said as she turned away from the console to address Donatra. “I’ve confirmed that both the rokhelhand its guidance program have been uploaded into the system. Both are actively engaging the alien programming that’s taken hold.”

Riker felt a surge of happy anticipation, but he carefully reined it in. Anything might still happen. “How long will it be before we know if—”

“Done, sir,” Crandall said with a grin, his gaze rising from the display on his tricorder. “Or near enough to done. The neuromagnetic signatures the entity had imposed on the network are already dwindling as the rokhelhforces them into the background and into secondary and tertiary systems.”