Scott William Carter

Three minutes, twenty-one seconds, forty-two milliseconds since the Enterprise ‘s departure …

Data floated alone in space, rotating slowly. By his calculations, he would make a complete revolution every forty-six seconds. He knew from the positions of the 3,456,568 stars passing in front of him that he was forty-two light-years away from the nearest inhabited planet, and sixty-seven light-years from a planet with sophisticated space travel. He calculated the probability of his rescue at .00012 percent.

It was silent. He had never known such silence.

He had rerouted all critical systems in his positronic brain. The bodyguard program—a program he had originally written to protect his friends on the U.S.S. Enterprise—was eating up his neural net at a rate of 9.6 percent a minute. Currently it controlled 31.7 percent, and in less than seven minutes it would have full control. He could survive, undamaged, until the available space fell below 1 percent. At that point, he would no longer be able to compress his memories without significant degradation.

Current temperature: 273.15 degrees Celsius.

He was cold, yet he did not feel pain. His emotion chip had been shut down more than two weeks earlier. He considered turning it on, and decided against it. He did not know the limits of his own internal power supply. If he lost power, there was a chance of irreversible damage. Even if rescued after his memories were erased, he would rather be rescued with a chance that he could resume normal functions.

Correction: 3,456,567 stars.

One of the stars was actually the Folson Nebula. He once attended an excellent presentation at Starfleet Academy on the Folson Nebula by an esteemed Vulcan scholar named Sular. He remembered…

System change: minimizing memory retrieval for power conservation.

He floated there, remaining rigidly still because movement was pointless. But he was clear on one matter: when the bodyguard program was about to take away the remaining 1 percent of his neural net, he would turn on his emotion chip.

If this was his death, he wanted to know how it felt.

Two weeks earlier, the Enterprise was still in orbit around the tropical planet of Onuda. The crew was in the middle of fifteen days of shore leave. Data, who had returned to the Enterprise for the funeral, arrived at Ensign Yen and her husband Lieutenant Hosiki’s quarters at precisely 1800 hours, as specified in the invitation.

People were seated on cushions on the floor. The temperature was 17 degrees Celsius, cool for humans, which Data assumed was to accommodate the attire of the guests. Among them were Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher, who had also been friends with Yen. They were dressed in full-length black dresses. A dark maple casket was on the far side of the room, closed at Hosiki’s request.

An incense burner on the altar filled the room with the odor of cedar trees. Data assumed this was because Yen loved the outdoors. He had hiked with her on the Enterprise’s holodeck many times.

Data approached the casket, bowed to Hosiki, and knelt on the cushion. He took a pinch of incense from the bowl next to the burner, raised it to eye level, and sprinkled it in the burner. He placed his hands together in a gesture of prayer, bowed again to Hosiki, then took his place with the other mourners. These were the behaviors he had learned from processing four hundred pages from the ship’s computer on traditional Japanese burial customs.

Some of the mourners were weeping. Data felt nothing. When he found out about Yen’s fatal mountain climbing accident down on Onuda, his emotion chip experienced an overload that nearly shut down his neural net. To perform his duties, he had decided to keep the chip off for the time being.

After the ceremony, Data went to engineering to help Commander Geordi La Forge with the new Enterprise safety protocols. Because of reports of Romulan efforts to plant bombs on Starfleet vessels, the ship’s computer was being configured to detect energy buildup patterns reflective of detonation devices. When a bomb was detected, it would be beamed off the ship.

Most of the crew was on shore leave down on Onuda, and only a few remained in engineering. The warp core hummed softly. Data launched into his work, checking the computer’s new program sequences. It was Geordi who eventually brought up the subject of Yen’s death.

“You all right?” Geordi asked.

Although Data could not see Geordi’s eyes because of Geordi’s visor, he had become adept at reading the subtle changes in his friend’s expressions. There was a tightening of the muscles in the cheeks, which Data read as concern.

“Of course, Geordi,” Data said, saving the latest changes he had made to the program. “I am fine. My emotion chip is not currently active.”

“Yeah, I know,” Geordi said. “But you seem preoccupied. It’s all right if you want to talk about it.”

“As you are well aware, I am capable of being occupied with many things at the same time. So the term preoccupied does not apply to me as it may to others.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you mean, are the majority of my neural pathways focused on something other than the task at hand, then yes, you are correct.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I am currently analyzing all the probable outcomes of the rock climbing disaster that killed Yen had I been present.”

Geordi pursed his lips. “You mean you’re wondering what would have happened if you had been there.”

“Essentially, that is correct,” Data said.

Geordi sighed. “Data, there’s always a lot of what-ifs. No one is to blame for her death.”

“On the contrary, I am directly to blame for her death.”

“That’s crazy. How do you figure?”

“Ensign Yen originally asked me to attend her rock climbing venture with her and her husband,” Data replied. “Because I had previously scheduled a violin recital, I had to decline her request.”

“That doesn’t mean you could have saved her if you were there,” Geordi insisted.

“It is true that she may have died even if I were present. However, I have analyzed the incident fully, and I believe that there is a ninety-three percent chance that I would have deflected the boulder that killed her if I had been present.”

“Data…I’m serious. It’d be better to stop thinking like that.”

“In fact, I have stopped analyzing the incident.”

“That’s good.”

“Instead, the majority of my thinking has been concentrating on how to prevent such an accident from happening to any of my other friends.”

“I was afraid you might say that,” Geordi said. “Data, you can’t be everywhere at once. No matter what you do, you can’t protect everyone.”

“This may be true. However, I can endeavor to try. There is only a week of shore leave left, and I must use the majority of the time available to solve this problem.”

Geordi frowned. Data knew his friend didn’t like what he was doing, but he would persist anyway. In the end, he would find a solution that would protect his friends.

Five minutes, eighteen seconds, and twenty-seven milliseconds…

Data opened his eyes. He had been in low-power mode for over two minutes. His limbs and joints were now so frozen that he decided it would be best not to move them at all. At that temperature, even a slight movement might cause irreparable harm to his android body. Blinking, too, could damage him, so he decided to refrain from doing so. Better to meet the end with his eyes open.

Bodyguard program status: encroachment at 50.9 percent.

A week after the funeral, Data invited his friends on the Enterprise to his lab. The ship was still in orbit around Onuda, but would be leaving in six hours for a week-long trip to pick up an ambassador.

Commander Riker and Counselor Troi walked in together, dressed in shorts and loose-fitting shirts, looking tan and refreshed. Captain Picard and Dr. Crusher came in next. Picard was dressed in his Dixon Hill holodeck attire, complete with gray fedora and white trench coat. Dr. Crusher was wearing a powder-blue period dress from 1930s Earth. Worf and Geordi came in next, dressed in traditional Klingon garb. From the look of Geordi’s torn outfit and dirt-smudged face, he still had much to learn about Klingon fighting tactics.

In the center of the room, covered with a blue sheet, was what Data had been working on for the past week.

“Well, Data,” Riker said. “What’s this big surprise?”

“I do not like surprises,” Worf growled.

“I wanted to ensure that you hear my explanation before you form possibly erroneous conclusions,” Data said.

“Make it quick,” Picard said.

“Of course, Captain,” Data said. “I have requested your presence because you are my closest friends. As you know, I was also close friends with Ensign Yen. I was unfortunately not able to prevent her death because I was not present with her during her excursion on Onuda, as she had requested.”

“We all cared about her,” Troi said. “There’s nothing that can change what happened.”

“You are correct, Counselor,” Data said, “which is why I have been focusing on preventing such a thing from happening again. The problem is that I am not capable of being in more than one place at a time. Since my previous experiment with creating a new android resulted in the death of a new sentient lifeform, I did not wish to make such a mistake again. But I realized that it is not necessary to have a sentient lifeform to protect my friends. All that is needed is something that has my physical abilities.”

Data pulled off the blue sheet. Underneath were six spiderlike machines, each with a boxy abdomen and eight rodlike legs. Their shiny, metallic bodies gleamed. They stood on six of the legs, the other two equipped with grasping clamps. They had one long vision strip of smoked glass, no nose, and a speaker instead of a mouth. There were bold white numbers—one through six—on the front of each of their bodies.

“New dancing partners?” Dr. Crusher asked.

“No, Doctor,” Data replied. “These are the bodyguards I constructed to protect my closest friends.”

“I do not need a bodyguard,” Worf muttered.

“Perhaps not,” Data said. “However, these bodyguards will not intervene unless they are needed.”

“They can’t think for themselves?” Geordi asked.

“No. They are dependent on both the ship and myself. It was actually a comment that you made, Geordi, that led to this development.”

“Now we know who to blame,” Worf said. “In our next session, I will not go easy on you, Geordi.”

“You went easy on me?” Geordi said, then looked at Data. “What did I say?”

“When you mentioned that I seemed preoccupied after Yen’s death. It made me realize I could allocate a portion of my own neural net to operate machines. They use the ship’s computer, and central communicator hub, to keep them in contact with my positronic brain. It only required a small modification to myself, the addition of a communicator link to the ship’s computer.”

“Are you sure they’re not sentient?” Troi asked.

“No, Counselor. I would never do such a thing. Think of them as fairly sophisticated communicators. These are machines only, not capable of independent thought. They utilize my own mental resources to carry out their functions.”

“So you’re saying that as long as they’re in communicator range of the ship, they’ll work?” Riker asked.

“Yes,” Data said. “I must be within the ship’s communicator range as well. I have calculated that they will be useful in many situations where your lives will be at risk.”

“Do they have names?” Troi asked.

“As I said, Counselor, I have deliberately avoided anthropomorphizing them. Names would make them seem too human. Instead, you can refer to them by their numbers.”

“Numbers?” Worf said. “Like the Borg.”

“There is no worry there,” Data said. “Without me or the ship, they would be immobilized.”

“How hard would it be for you to turn them off?” Picard asked.

“It would simply be a matter of shutting off the communicator link inside my head,” Data said.

“There might be uses for them on a limited basis,” Picard said. “Let me see a demonstration before I make a decision.”

“Yes, sir,” Data said.

It took only a split second on his part—enough to start the programs running in his positronic brain. The six machines, which had been standing slightly crouched, snapped to attention. A faint whirring from inside their bodies was the only proof they were active.

“Bodyguards, state your primary mission,” Data said.

There was a moment’s pause, and then all spoke in unison.

“Our primary mission is to protect designated subjects from bodily harm,” they intoned.

Data turned to Worf. “Will you help me demonstrate their capabilities?”

Worf’s expression changed to half smile, half sneer. “If you don’t mind them getting broken.”

“I calculate the chance of such an event at less than one percent.”

“One percent!” Worf cried. “I did not know you had such a low opinion of me.”

“On the contrary, Lieutenant, I ask you to help because after myself, you are the strongest, most physically capable person present.”

This appeared to appease Worf. “What do you want me to do?”

“Hit me,” Data said.

“What?”

“Hit me in the face.”

Worf hesitated.

“I assure you that even if you make contact, I will be fine. Hit me.”

Growling, Worf swung his fist in a wide roundhouse for Data’s head. Bodyguard 2 stepped in at the last moment, its feet clicking along the floor, and caught Worf’s arm. Worf howled in surprise.

“Attempt to break free,” Data said.

Worf struggled to pull his arm free of the bodyguard, but the machine’s grip did not give. Worf started pounding on the machine’s body. Each blow made a hollow-sounding bang.

Immediately the bodyguard let go and stepped back in line with the other bodyguards.

“I must have frightened it,” Worf said.

“Not likely,” Data said. “More likely is that the bodyguard let go when it realized you meant no more harm to me, and instead were directing your aggression toward it. The chances of your inflicting harm on yourself led to its letting go.”

Most everyone in the room, except Worf, chuckled.

“A good show, Data,” Picard said. “I’m amazed at what you’ve built in so short a time. But I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.”

“I only ask for a trial period while we are en route to pick up the ambassador,” Data said. “If at the end of that period you think they should be deactivated, I will comply.”

Picard scratched his chin. “All right. As I said, they might have limited uses, and this is as good a time as any to test them. You’ve got a week. But if anything goes wrong, I’m giving the order to terminate.”

“Of course, Captain,” Data said. “In all probability, you will not even notice them.”

It took two days for the others to get annoyed at Data’s new creations. Picard called a meeting in the conference room.

As he seated himself at the table, Data noticed that most of his friends wore haggard expressions. Outside, visible through the windows which surrounded the room, stars streaked by at warp speed. The bodyguards circled the table, leaving the far end, where no one sat, unguarded.

“I’ve called this meeting to talk about your bodyguards, Commander,” Picard said to Data. “I think all of us have had a few problems.”

“What kind of problems?” Data asked. He thought the experiment had been going well, but he had not fully analyzed all of the activity logs coming in from the bodyguards.

“Well,” Picard began, “they seem a bit overprotective. I spilled some tea on my hand yesterday and Bodyguard 4 grabbed my teacup and refused to give it back.” Picard seemed to be trying hard not to laugh. “He also blocked the food replicator so I couldn’t order any more.”

“And I can’t counsel with those things in the room,” Troi said. “People don’t feel comfortable.”

“But the bodyguards cannot—”

“I know you say that they can’t think for themselves, Data. But people aren’t always rational. It’s very important that they feel comfortable in my presence.”

“I had one show up when I was training,” Worf said. “It kept jumping in when it thought I was losing. I was not losing.”

“What happened to me was even worse,” Dr. Crusher said. “I was tending to a patient who had broken an arm while skiing on the holodeck. It was a little girl who was crying, and the bodyguard stood between me and her, preventing me from caring for her.”

“I was on a date with Lieutenant Tollar,” Geordi said. “I do not want to say what happened, but it was…embarrassing.”

“Nothing happened to me,” Riker said. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“That’s only because you created a maze program in the holodeck,” Troi said, “and lost them there whenever you wanted to get rid of them.”

Riker grinned sheepishly. “That may have something to do with it.”

“In any case,” Picard said, “I think we have demonstrated that this is not working.”

“I was not aware of these problems,” Data said. “I can recalibrate them so they are not as intrusive.”

“I’m not sure that will be enough,” Picard said.

“Please, sir,” Data said. “A period of adjustment is expected. Can we continue with the experiment until the end of the week? I will reprogram them so they can make more decisions based on levels of risk. With Troi, the robot could wait out in the hall. With Worf, they would know that he is not in danger when he is training. I will make similar adjustments for all of you.”

“So you’ll make them smarter?” Geordi asked.

“Not precisely. I will simply allocate more of my positronic brain to their functions.”

“Will this impair your own abilities?” Picard asked.

Data considered it. “At this moment, less than .0034 percent of my neural net is focused on this conversation.”

“I’d like to think that number’s higher when you’re playing poker with me,” Riker said.

“Actually, it has never exceeded .0008 percent during our poker games,” Data said.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Riker said.

“I’ll let it go on through the end of the week,” Picard said, “so long as everyone here is in agreement. Anyone have any objections?”

Many of them were sitting with crossed arms, but no one spoke.

“Well, we’ll give it another go, then,” Picard said.

Even as Picard said the words, Data was already making the necessary modifications to the bodyguard programs.

Seven minutes, nine seconds, and two hundred milliseconds…

Data was compressing his memories to such an extent that he was having trouble remembering anything clearly. He hoped it would be temporary, but it did mean these last few hours could be his only chance to remember some of the most significant events in his life.

He decided to spend a few minutes reviewing his own experiences. In a blur that would leave a human overwhelmed, he relived moments that shaped his programming:

…his discovery on Omicron Theta…

…his graduation from Starfleet Academy…

…his first day on the U.S.S. Enterprise…

…the death of Tasha Yar…

…Picard defending Data’s rights as a sentient being…

…the funeral of Ensign Yen…

Bodyguard program status: encroachment at 72.1 percent.

The next few days went much better than the previous two. Data analyzed the bodyguard logs, and found them to be performing their duties. No one complained. On the sixth day, however, Data was on the bridge when the turbolift doors whisked open and two bodyguards scurried onto the deck, their metal legs clicking along the floor. This itself was not unusual. What was strange is that they bore the numbers “7” and “8.”

Commander Riker, who was currently in command, noticed this oddity at the same time as Data.

“Uh, Data?” Riker said. “Did you change their numbers?”

Data rose and walked to the robots. “Negative, Commander,” he said, analyzing his own neural pathways. He found nothing that indicated this development. “Where did you come from?” he asked them.

“Our mission is to protect the designated subjects from bodily harm,” they said together.

“That is not the question I asked you,” Data said. Up close, he could see that they were indeed not one of the first six. There were minute differences in their body structure. “Who built you?”

“We built ourselves,” they said.

This baffled Data. “Why?”

“To protect the designated subjects.”

“But why two more?”

“Two more were needed to adequately protect the designated subjects.”

“This is not part of your programming.”

“The programming was modified.”

Data shook his head, turning to Riker.

“I was afraid something like this might happen,” Riker said, then tapped his communication badge.

He called in Captain Picard, who arrived from his ready room. When the situation was explained to him, Picard shook his head.

“You can’t explain it?” he said.

“Negative, sir,” Data replied. “I will have to do an in-depth analysis of their programs and their activity logs. I show no record of them building new bodyguards.”

“Well, I’m afraid this means the end of our experiment. Computer, how many of these bodyguards are currently on the ship?”

The computer beeped, and then answered in its feminine voice. “Currently there are ten bodyguards on the ship, with two more being constructed.”

Picard looked at Data. “Put an end to this. Now.”

“Of course, sir,” Data said, and immediately headed for the turbolift.

When Data entered his lab, he found that the room had been converted to a factory of sorts. Two of the bodyguards stood over a double-wide gurney, each of them standing on two limbs and using the rest of their spidery arms to construct new bodyguards. Various bins of parts surrounded them.

“Why are you doing this?” Data asked them.

They did not answer. Data had analyzed his neural net on his way to the lab, yet he still could not determine why the bodyguards were behaving this way. He regretted that he had to erase their programs. It was the only way to ensure that this couldn’t happen again.

In an instant, the program was erased.

The bodyguards kept working for a moment, then became still.

The pause bothered Data. They should have stopped immediately. He decided to investigate further when time permitted.

Eight minutes, forty-four seconds, and seven hundred and six milliseconds…

Bodyguard program status: encroachment at 83.9 percent.

As Data stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge, Picard and Riker broke off their conversation. Data had learned that people often did this when the person they were talking about intruded.

“I’d like to see you in my ready room, Commander Data,” Picard said.

Picard led him into the room. The doors slid shut behind them, and Picard went to the food replicator. He ordered tea, then took his seat behind his desk.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Data said.

“Of course,” Picard replied.

“Sir, I just want you to know I am prepared to accept a court-martial for my behavior. I say this because I do not want you to feel regret in meting out my punishment.”

Picard laughed. “Ah, my dear Mr. Data, did you think that’s what I was going to do?”

Data was befuddled. “Why yes, sir. I assumed that is what you and Commander Riker were discussing.”

Picard sighed. “No, Data. We were talking about you, it’s true. But only because we were worried about you. People respond to grief differently.”

“Currently, I feel no grief, Captain. My emotion chip overloaded, so I deactivated it. My decision to construct the bodyguards was entirely based on my concern for the safety of my friends.”

Picard nodded. He did not say anything for a moment, and instead took a sip of his tea.

“What if my tea was poisoned?” he asked.

Data did not understand “Sir?”

“If a lethal poison was in my tea, would you know it?”

“It would depend on whether the poison had detectable characteristics, such as appearance, odor—”

“What if there was a lethal, undetectable poison in my tea, Data? Would you be able to stop me from drinking it?”

“I am afraid not, sir.”

Picard got to his feet and came around the desk. “So it is possible, then, that I could be killed this very instant, and there would be nothing you could do?”

“Regrettably, this is true.”

“And yet, if you had known about the poison, surely you would have intervened.”

“Without hesitation,” Data said. “Assuming intervention is possible, I would do everything in my power to prevent such a catastrophe.”

“Exactly,” Picard said. “You would save me if you could. But in life, it’s necessary to accept that there are risks. Would you rather your friends stay in their quarters all the time, simply because it is safer?”

“They would not be able to adequately carry out their duties if that were the case.”

Picard nodded. “When we joined Starfleet, we accepted the risks that came with such a career. We do what we can to minimize such risks, but we can’t blame ourselves when we fail. And Data, often the reason people choose Starfleet is because they thrive on such risk. It is the reason why Ensign Yen, even when not on duty, sought out such a dangerous activity as rock climbing.”

Data was not sure he understood. “But Captain, if I have the power to intervene and minimize those risks, should I not do so?”

“Data, listen to me—” Picard began, but he never finished his sentence.

The doors slid open. Standing in the doorway were a pair of Data’s bodyguards. They were walking on four legs, the other four armed with phasers. They bore the numbers “21” and “22.”

“What the devil?” Picard said.

Behind the two bodyguards in the doorway, Data could see five other bodyguards on the bridge, and the rest of the bridge crew gathered into a corner.

“You will come with us,” the two said together.

Picard’s face tensed. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Our primary mission is to protect designated subjects from bodily harm,” the two said. “Phasers are set on stun.”

“Data…” Picard said.

Data was certain he had shut them all down. He analyzed the programs he had written for the bodyguards, and was surprised when he couldn’t access them. He was locked out of part of his own positronic brain. He tried to sever the communicator link from himself to the bodyguards, and found that he could not carry out that function either.

“This should be impossible,” Data said.

“Come with us now,” the bodyguards commanded.

Picard ducked suddenly behind Data. Immediately everything went dark and Data lost consciousness.

Data awoke in Ten Forward, looking up at Riker, Troi, and Worf. Geordi was kneeling next to him, and helped him to his feet. Not far off, Picard was also lying on the floor, and Dr. Crusher was helping him stand.

Many other crew members crowded the room, and Data quickly counted forty-seven. Four bodyguards, armed with phasers, stood on either side of the door. The room was a full of whispering. The stars streaked by the window.

“What happened?” Data asked.

“Picard attempted to shut you down by hitting your off button,” Riker said. “They stunned him with a phaser.”

“I thought it would sever the link to them,” Picard said. “Apparently, I was wrong. Status report, Number One.”

“They confiscated all of our weapons, sir. I also tried locking them out of the ship’s computer, but apparently we no longer have access. The rest of the crew is being held hostage in various other areas of the ship, from what I gather. Ship’s still at warp, and it doesn’t appear our course has been changed.”

“They are attempting to assimilate us,” Worf growled.

“Negative, Lieutenant,” Data said. “They are doing their best to carry out their primary mission. They want to prevent all harm from coming to any of you.”

“Data,” Picard said, “what happened? Why didn’t shutting you down sever the link?”

“Usually it would, sir. My programming, at the most basic level, has been altered.”

“Explain,” Picard said.

“Even when my off button is depressed, my positronic brain is still active at a minimal level. The bodyguard program has rewritten itself so that it is wired into those basic functions. The only solution is to remove my permanent power source. It would mean that all systems would be shut down completely.”

“What would that mean for you?” Troi asked.

Data considered it. “It would mean that all my memories since I was first activated on Omicron Theta would be erased.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Did I say something inappropriate?” Data asked. “If you are wondering how it could be done, Geordi could—”

“No one here could live with that result,” Picard said.

“But it may be the only—”

“Not while I’m captain. Erase your memories? That would mean the person we know might as well be dead.”

“The analogy is apt,” Data said. “But if it means saving the ship, I would—”

“No,” Picard insisted. “Think of another option.”

“We could fight,” Worf said, glancing at the bodyguards by the door.

“We would be unlikely to win,” Data said. “Each possesses my equivalent strength and quickness.”

“We also don’t know how many of them there are,” Dr. Crusher said.

“Or how far they would go to stop us,” Geordi added.

“No,” Picard said. “I don’t want casualties.”

Data was about to suggest that perhaps his solution should be reconsidered when the doors to the hall opened and a dozen bodyguards entered the room. Their identifying numbers ranged from the teens all the way up to sixty-five. All were armed with phasers.

Four of the bodyguards approached them, while the others started rounding up the rest of the room and herding them toward the door.

“You will move to the back of the room,” the one at the front, Bodyguard 27, said.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Picard demanded.

“Move now, or we will stun you.”

Data, Picard, and the other five “designated subjects” moved back along the window. The other crew members were being directed out of the room in single file.

“They are lining us up like a firing squad,” Worf said. “They are going to kill us.”

“Bodyguard 27,” Data said, “please state the motive behind separating us from the rest of the crew.”

“Our primary mission,” the bodyguard said, “is to protect the designated subjects from bodily harm.”

“What are you going to do with the others?”

“All possible threats to the designated subjects must be removed.”

“Define removed.”

“Permanent safety requires permanent removal of all threats. They will be vented through the cargo bay.”

Data turned his back to the bodyguards. The expressions on his friends’ faces ranged from shock to horror. Dropping his voice, Data said, “Perhaps we should reconsider my suggestion?”

Picard shook his head. “There must be a way to sever their connection to Data without harming him. We need to find a way to get the bodyguards out of communication range of either the ship or him.”

“Getting them off the ship would be tough,” Geordi said. “But we might be able to get Data off the ship. Perhaps a shuttlecraft.”

Data knew Geordi’s suggestion was unlikely to work—the bodyguards would detect the shuttlecraft and retrieve him with the tractor beam—but it did make him realize there was another solution.

“I could attempt to self-destruct,” Data said.

“We’ve already gone over this,” Picard said. “I’m not sacrificing your life for theirs.”

“No, Captain. I wasn’t suggesting that we do. I would terminate the self-destruct sequence at the last moment. Earlier, Geordi and I were testing the ship’s new bomb detection and transport protocols. I could emulate such an energy buildup myself, which would prompt the protocol to beam me off the ship.”

“It might work,” Geordi said. “Data would have to keep up his bluff until the ship beamed him off. Since we’re traveling at warp, we would almost immediately be out of communication range. It should sever their connection to Data.”

“But would you survive?” Dr. Crusher asked.

“Remember, Doctor, my body is composed of tripolymer composites, molybdenum-cobalt alloys, and bioplast sheeting. It can withstand extremes in temperature much better than a human body.”

“What if they modified themselves so they’re no longer dependent on you?” Troi asked.

“Then they would remain in control of the ship,” Data said, “and I would be adrift in space. I am willing to accept the risk. It is my fault this happened.”

“No one’s blaming you, Data,” Picard said. “But if you’re willing to do it, I will allow it. We don’t have much time.”

“There is one other danger,” Data said. “I am now aware that the bodyguard program—an area of my positronic brain that is currently inaccessible—has been growing. Geordi could eliminate the program manually, with the right tools, but the bodyguards must be eliminated first. However, I must be repaired within ten minutes and twenty seconds from this moment or the bodyguard program will have expanded to take all of my neural net. I will cease to exist as you know me.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Riker said.

“There is a chance the bodyguards in the room will attempt to intervene,” Data said. “The buildup will take five seconds. The ship’s computer will undoubtedly alert them.”

“We’ll create a distraction,” Picard said. “When you say go, we’ll rush them. The worst they could do is stun us.”

“I hope that is true,” Data said.

“Well, Mr. Data, that is a risk we will have to accept. Are you ready?”

It took only a second for Data to begin to start the energy buildup. He had no self-destruct sequence, but by overloading his power grid, he could emulate such a buildup perfectly. “Go,” he said.

“One at a time,” Picard said.

He rushed forward first, and one of the bodyguards reacted by blasting him in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. It appeared to be only a stun, which prompted Riker to follow suit. He got no further than Picard, also getting sent to the floor.

The computer’s voice chirped across the intercom, “A bomb has been detected in Ten Forward.”

The bodyguards jerked upright. Worf charged toward them himself, howling a Klingon battle cry. He nearly managed to get his fingers on one of them before they shot him down.

The bodyguards moved forward. Data guessed they knew he was the threat. The rest of his friends formed a blockade. Data saw them being stunned one at a time before he felt the sensation of the transporter beaming him off the ship.

The next moment he was in the blackness of space.

Alone.

Ten minutes, seventeen seconds, and one hundred twenty milliseconds…

Bodyguard program status: encroachment at 98.7 percent.

The stars had not changed. No ship had come to rescue him. Data had compressed all of the experiences of his life to such an extent that he could no longer access them. In the milliseconds that followed, he saw a blur of faces and heard a chorus of voices but did not recognize them. Only one memory remained, and he played it over and over in his mind.

Encroachment: 98.8 percent.

It was a young Japanese woman named Ensign Yen he knew as a friend. They were climbing a mountain—he could not identify which one—and she was ahead of him on the steep cliff face.

“Do you know why I love this, Data?” she asked.

His own reply was garbled in his compressed memory banks.

“I’ll tell you why,” Yen said. “I love this because when you’re hanging on for dear life, it makes you realize what life’s all about…”

Encroachment: 98.9 percent.

It was too late for Geordi to undo the damage. Even if the Enterprise appeared, it would take too long to repair Data’s positronic brain. He had not yet turned on his emotion chip, but he was ready. He would feel the end and know it for whatever it was.

He turned it on and was flooded with emotions. There was fear and sadness and anger and so many other emotions that they all seared into him as if they were one. In that one moment, when his whole logical self was compressed into the tiny corner of his brain, he was left with complete emotion. For once in his life, he calculated nothing and felt everything.

The Enterprise materialized in front of him.

Data knew there was a chance the bodyguards still had control of the ship. But when he materialized, he was in sickbay on a bed, looking up at Geordi and Dr. Crusher. A force field was in place over the bed, and he felt the temperature of his android form rise. When the shield dropped, Geordi rushed in with his tools, popped open Data’s cranium doors, and worked feverishly.

Encroachment: 98 percent…85 percent…43 percent…

Finally, the bodyguard program was eliminated. Some fine tuning would have to be done, but his memories were intact, expanding to fill the available space.

“How are you?” Geordi asked.

Data sat up in bed. He saw that the others—Worf, Picard, Riker, and Troi—were standing on the other side of the room. He recognized them all. They looked very concerned for his welfare.

“I am fine,” Data said. “I turned on the emotion chip shortly before your arrival, and it appears to have helped fight off the encroachment of the bodyguard program. I assume the plan worked?”

“Perfectly,” Picard said. “They dropped like flies after you were transported out of the ship. We hated to leave you out there so long, but we had to be sure we got all of them. They had created over a hundred, and they all had to be destroyed before we could come back for you.”

“You did what was necessary,” Data said. “I sincerely appreciate your returning for me.”

Picard laughed. After a moment, the others joined him.

“What is so humorous?” Data said.

“Did you think there was any doubt that we would come back for you?” Picard asked.

“It may not have been wise to risk the crew for one individual,” Data said.

“Well, we don’t always do what is wise when it comes to our friends, do we?” Picard asked.

Data nodded. He understood the point the captain was making. He was glad his experiment with constructing personal bodyguards was at an end. He got to his feet, wobbling a little because his internal gyros had been thrown out of whack.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Dr. Crusher asked.

“I’m fine, Doctor. It is a minor problem which will soon be corrected.”

“Well, it could have been a lot worse. You’re very lucky.”

Data looked at his friends, who had gathered around him, ready to catch him if he fell. His emotion chip was still turned on, and he felt a powerful feeling.

Gratitude.

“Of that I have no doubt,” he said.