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 Romulan 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.

the Presence said, its words issuing from the nothingness surrounding Data. 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.

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 notice, 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 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. 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 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 disruptor bank, which was glowing like the core of a star.

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.

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.

the Presence said confidently. Data knew all too well what the Presence meant. His positronic matrix would be wiped 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.

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- -only 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.

Regardless, Data knew that he could never get the abort command past them, even if he were to perish in the attempt. He quietly backed away, all but disengaging entirely from the Romulan array. Despair stung him then- -and struck a spark that glimmered into joy. Only a functioning emotion chip could have made either experience possible. As his maintenance subroutines reawakened and began purging his matrix of whatever remained of the Presence within him, Data rejoiced at having succeeded in hanging onto his hard-won humanity.

And, even as he struggled to regain control over his body's many subsystems, Data clung just as steadfastly to the hope of finding some other way to neutralize the Romulans' subspace singularity.

His hands a blur on the instrument panel, Hawk entered the final command sequence, then tried to get a fix on the subspace singularity with the sensors. This has to work, he thought.

No change.

Ten long seconds ticked by as Picard continued dodging the Gal Gath'thong's relentless disruptor fusillades, while staying less than quarter of a kilometer from the warbird's bifurcated hull. At this range, it was relatively easy to foil the Romulans' target locks. But it was still a minor miracle that they had thus far avoided a mutually destructive collision.

Sooner or later, Hawk knew, their luck was going to run out.

Hawk examined the singularity once again on the passive sensor display. It seemed indestructible. He closed his eyes, feeling utterly defeated.

"Report, Lieutenant!" Picard barked.

"It... didn't work. I don't understand it. I must have mis-keyed one of the command pathways."

Hawk heard a voice behind him. "I do not believe that is so, Lieutenant."

"Data!" Hawk said, startled. He turned in his seat and saw that Data was now standing in the crew compartment. Except for the cable that connected his metallic skull to the bulkhead, he appeared none the worse for wear.

"Forgive me, Lieutenant. I did not mean to startle you."

"Data, what happened to the AI you were fighting?" Picard said as he rolled the scoutship past a disruptor tube an instant before it fired. Hawk noticed that the Captain's hand was on his phaser.

"It has been... neutralized. My internal housekeeping subroutines are purging its remaining code-structures from my physical matrix even now."

"Excellent. But can you get back inside the array?"

"Not in the same manner as before. I just checked the information channel through which I originally entered the array, and I have determined that it is now filled with electronic 'antibodies' designed to cancel out any recurrence of my original externally introduced abort-command sequence. It is the positronic equivalent of an inoculation against a viral infection. I am afraid that we must find another avenue of attack."

Picard finally seemed to be running out of patience. "Data, don't you understand? We don't have time to look for another avenue of attack!"

Attack. The notion struck Hawk like a clap of thunder. Attack! That's the key. "Maybe we already have one," he said.

"Let's hear it, Lieutenant," the captain prompted, still obviously intent on staying one step ahead of the Romulan guns. A disruptor salvo rocked them at that precise instant, and the scoutship's responses to Picard's piloting seemed to be growing sluggish. Heaven only knew how badly they'd been damaged.

Hawk took a deep breath, then plunged forward. "Data, if the array's own defenses were to malfunction and attack the singularity's containment facility, wouldn't that bring on an abort automatically? And send the singularity back into subspace immediately?"

"That was the scenario that I originally attempted to make the singularity's containment machinery believe," Data said calmly. "However, I would still have to transmit the abort order through command pathways from which we are now blocked."

"That's not what I mean," Hawk said, his words piling onto one another in his excitement. "What if the array's defenses really did start shooting at the singularity's containment field?"

The android nodded, evidently grasping the idea. "In that event, the Romulans' own failsafe programs should initiate an abort command on their own from within the singularity's subspace containment system. I would not need to send any such command myself."

"All right, gentlemen," Picard said, now clearly preoccupied with keeping the ship in one piece. "How might we accomplish that?"

"What about trying to alter the containment facility's sensor profile?" Hawk said hopefully. "We could make the singularity itself appear to be surrounded by a fleet of invading ships."

"And thus in danger of suffering a fatal containment breach," Picard added, nodding.

"Unfortunately," Data said, "The systems that govern sensor data are now closed to me as well."

Hawk's spirits flagged again when he heard this. Then he glanced at Picard, and saw a slow smile spreading across the captain's face.

"Maybe there's another way to go about Mr. Hawk's idea, Data." Picard then handed the conn back over to Hawk. Though the evasive flying kept him busy, the lieutenant listened carefully to the captain's words.

"Tell me about the cloaking-generator buoys, Data. How do they maintain such a perfect spherical formation? You'd think that the singularity's periodic releases of gravitational energy would disturb that pattern."

Data did not reply, leaving Hawk to assume that he was accessing information, either from the ship's computer or from elsewhere in the Romulan array. A moment later, Data broke the anxious silence.

"The cloaking buoys maintain their relative positions by means of a system of onboard station-keeping thrusters. Each thruster pack carries a large fuel supply, so that the buoys can hold their positions for years without requiring maintenance."

"And what would happen," Picard said, "if each and every one of those buoys were suddenly to point their main thrusters away from the singularity, and fire them all at full throttle?"

"In that scenario, Captain, there would be an equal and opposite reaction. The entire cloaking-buoy network would quickly collapse inward, simulating an attack on the singularity."

"Bringing about an automatic abort," Picard said.

Data sounded intrigued. "Perhaps I can gain access to the buoys' thruster command pathways through one of the multiple backup channels in the array's maintenance grid-"

Picard interrupted him. "Do whatever it takes, Data. And hurry."

Data once again lapsed into silence as Hawk fought with the sluggish controls, bringing the scoutship tumbling past an active Romulan gunport just in time to avoid a direct hit. Hawk ardently hoped that Data's silence meant that the android had already begun moving those buoys.

A moment later, the scoutship shook as though something extremely heavy had struck it. An overhead conduit ruptured, fogging the crew cabin with gray, foul-smelling vapors. The collision alarm hadn't sounded, so Hawk assumed that the scout had taken a glancing blow from one of the warbird's secondary disruptor banks. A glance at the tactical display showed that the scout's engine core had taken a high-angle disruptor hit as well.

Before Hawk could relay this information to Picard, the captain cried out in pain and went sprawling from his seat onto the deck. He lay there, groaning and clutching at his chest.

Hawk understood the problem immediately. The damaged engine core must have emitted an acute radiation burst-the tetryons Dr. Crusher had been concerned about-causing some sort of malfunction in the captain's artificial heart. But Hawk couldn't afford to be distracted from his duties at the helm, not if any of them were to survive this mission. He had to hope that Data could tend to the captain's urgent medical needs.