Star Trek - TNG - Section 31 - Rogue

by Andy Mangels

  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 by now."

  "Agreed. And the longer we stay here, the greater the chance we'll be detected. We'll have to find another way to force the array into abort mode."

  At that moment, the viewscreen suddenly displayed the image of a huge Romulan warbird. As it de cloaked before them, it blotted out the fires of the subspace singularity like a planet eclipsing its sun.

  A deep, cool voice issued from the scout's communications panel.

  "Scoutship Chula. This is Commander T'Veren of the warbird Gal Gath'thong. You will decloak immediately and explain your business here."

  Hawk sounded as though he were fighting to keep his

  voice calm.

  "Captain, if they know this ship by name, then they already know what our business is."

  "And who's aboard this ship," Picard said soberly.

  "Drop the cloak. Lieutenant. Then stall."

  "Stall, sir?"

  "Send a "technical trouble" signal. We need to buy ourselves some time."

  Hawk complied, glancing at the sensor readouts.

  "More bad news, sir. They're powering up their disrupters.

  Should we withdraw?"

  The captain brushed a palm across the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow.

  "No, Mr. Hawk. We can't outrun them. So we'll have to ... oat-think them instead."

  Hawk nodded, saucer-eyed. Though Picard kept his expression impassive, he could hear his own pulse roaring in his ears.

  Without Data's help, thinking my way out of a Romu- Ian target-lock isn "t going to be easy.

  Data floated in a formless, sensory-deprived void.

  With his emotion chip deactivated, the fact that he and the Presence were becoming inextricably linked was no reason for panic--though it did give him cause for real concern. It was a development that Data could not allow to continue without a fight.

  I cannot permit you to appropriate my body. Data told the Presence, his voice a gossamer construct of electromagnetic impulses, rather than sounds.

  Your statement is meaningless, greater-than the Presence said, its words issuing from the nothingness surrounding Data. You cannot stop me. You are helpless. greater-than Data considered the alien machine-entity's words for nearly a millisecond. For the moment, he concluded that

  the Presence was correct. He was indeed helpless, at least so long as the artificial intelligence maintained control over many of his body's higher functions. But Data also knew that he might succeed in bypassing or disabling some of those functions--at least for a short while--if he proceeded very carefully, camouflaging his efforts with the background maintenance subroutines that were always running.

  A picosecond later, it was done. Rivers of heuristic neural information re-routed themselves into Data's secondary and tertiary control nodes. He sensed immediately that the Presence was no longer controlling his limbs. But then, neither was he. He wondered how long it would take the Presence to regain the upper hand. At the rate the entity's consciousness was expanding and entwining through him, it would surely not be long.

  Perhaps I cannot stop you. Data admitted. But I can make an effort to understand you.

  That will avail you nothing. I will rewrite your code and seize your body permanently. You will cease to be, as will your organic accomplices. You will understand nothing. greater-than But Data had already begun to understand something important. The Presence had revealed that it believed itself capable of manipulating his positronic pathways.

  The Presence believed it could address the world through Data's senses. It believed that it could run Data's body as though it were its own.

  That told Data that the Presence was comprised of code that was not significantly different from his own.

  And it further told Data that if he could find some subsystem in his android body that the Presence had yet to subvert, there might yet be a way to defeat the invader.

  Tentatively, careful to steer clear of the Presence's no276

  dee, Data probed at his own systems. Three-point-eight six milliseconds later, he discovered a sliver of his own consciousness that the Presence had yet to wrest from him: a little-used backup diagnostic subroutine, a system designed for use 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 d
ismissed 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. still may be unable to either stop you or to understand you.

  (very slowly, and at extremely low power. Data brought his emotion chip online.) less-than 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. still 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 sub sentient 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. still 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 disrupter 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 must keep 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 disrupter 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 still did 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.

  You will have no further opportunity to infect the Apparatus with aberrant code the Presence said confidently. less-than I will overwrite you now Data knew all too well what the Presence meant. His positronic matrix would be wipe
d clean. His experiences and memories, his dreams and hopes, his friendships and loves would be reduced to a blank slate. He would be erased as though he had never been.

  The Presence had obviously adapted to the output of his emotion chip. The only weapon he possessed had been neutralized. Despair threatened to overwhelm him.

  How easy it would be to simply let it happen, and accept the surcease of deactivation and nothingness.

  No! Data shouted silently. He recalled his brief glimpse of the scoutship's interior. He remembered that a Romulan warbird was about to vaporize Captain Picard and Lieutenant Hawk.

  Then, even as awareness began to flee him, hope arose within Data once again: He recalled that he had set the emotion chip's output at nowhere near its maximum gain. That told him that he still had a weapon. Gathering

  up his will, he let the chip's energies build, as though it were a phaser set on overload.

  A cybernetic eternity later, he released the chip's greatly increased emotional output, letting it flood into the Romulan machine-entity's consciousness.

  No said the Presence. Data could feel it actively resisting him.

  With all of his remaining will, he directed the totality of his anger, his fear, his frustration straight into the algorithm-creature's core. It was as though the Presence had been forced to drink from a fire hose. Teraquads of intense emotion rushed through the chip, sweeping the entity away before it had an opportunity to sever Data's subspace connection to the Romulan array. The death scream of the Presence reverberated in Data's consciousness as the entity's code decompiled, corrupting itself in a spontaneous cascade effect.

  Even as Data felt his adversary's passing, he wondered whether his triumph had cost him the use of his emotion chip. At that thought, hope fled from him, as did every other human emotion he had worked so hard to acquire for so many years. But with no emotions to distract him. Data had no trouble accepting that the loss was infinitely preferable to nonexistence.

  And he had no trouble giving the plight of Picard and Hawk his full attention. Noticing that his cybernetic connection to the Romulan array remained intact, he sent a portion of his consciousness deeper inside it, ready to resend the abort command--comonly to find the data channels still aswarm with "antibody" programs, the final nonsentient remnants of the Presence. Or perhaps they had arisen as a consequence of that entity's contact with him, like a cybernetic immune response.