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.

Data nodded stiffly. “Hope . . . is all . . . I have.”

“Understood,” Picard said. “Continue doing whatever you have to.”

At that moment, Data lapsed into a disconcerting silence, and Picard moved forward to take the cockpit seat beside Hawk. The lieutenant’s full attention was focused on his evasive flying. “Mr. Hawk, how thoroughly did Commander Data brief you on the Romulan command protocols he’s been using?”

“He showed me the entire abort‑command sequence,” Hawk said, casting his wide eyes momentarily on Picard. He added sheepishly, “Once.”

“Lieutenant, I think it’s time to test that photographic memory I’ve read so much about in your service record.”

“Captain, I could never enter the commands as quickly as Commander Data could.”

“Then slow and steady will have to do,” Picard said, smiling grimly as he took control of the helm. “The subspace uplink with the array should still be open. I’ll hold the warbird off while you enter the commands.”

At once, Hawk began manipulating the instrument panel, slowly at first, then accelerating to an almost inhuman speed. Though Picard gave most of his concentration over to the flight controls, he saved some for the forward viewer. It showed the maw of the approaching warbird’s main disruptor bank, which was glowing like the core of a star.

‹ Cease whatever you are doing at once. ›

The Presence caught up with Data at last–it felt as though years had passed since Data had first distracted it with his emotion chip–and restrained him again within its cybernetic tendrils. Data became aware that he had once more lost command of his speech functions. That revelation discouraged him.

Until he noted that the emotion chip remained firmly under his control. That told him that the Presence stilldid not understand what he was doing. Emotion chip–generated hope sang within him.

‹ Cease whatever you are doing at once, › the Presence repeated.

No,Data said simply.

But he quickly understood that resolve would be an insufficient weapon against this AI. Data could feel his internal clock slowing, his information cycles becoming slow, lethargic. His consciousness itself was beginning to diffuse, as though it were a small blob of ink spreading out across a vast, wine‑dark sea.