I pieced this chapter together from all the dibs and dabs I've been scribbling here and there in my research notebooks. Sorry I couldn't post it any faster, but this story's never been out of my mind! Thank you so much for reading, and your reviews, and I hope you enjoy this next part! :)

Chapter Twenty

The admiral's mind was full of dark thoughts as he marched into the crowded reception Picard was holding for the research scientists. Some kind of musical concert was going on, but Haftel barely noticed. The last time he'd been on this ship…in the Ten Forward Lounge…he'd come to observe Data's constructed "offspring," Lal. More than observe – he'd come to claim the fledgling android in the name of advancing Starfleet research and preserving the safety of Federation citizens.

Haftel had been concerned about what Data's invention represented, and he hadn't been alone. Just the idea of one machine constructing another in its own image in such a spontaneous, secretive way… The implications of Data's actions, of Lal's unregulated, wholly unauthorized construction, had deeply disturbed Starfleet Command, while the prospect of her continued development outside the controlled conditions of a Federation laboratory had greatly alarmed Haftel and his colleagues at the Daystrom Institute.

The first thing Haftel always taught his new researchers and research students was to never work alone, without a partner or a group. The image of the "lone genius" conducting his experiments in isolation may be romantic, but in practice it was dangerous for a scientist to work alone and there were plenty of warning examples to prove it – one of the most infamous being that of the Institute's own namesake, Dr. Richard Daystrom, and the disastrous test run of his M-5 computer. A sophisticated (for the time) multitronic unit modeled after the human brain and programmed with Daystrom's own personality engrams, the M-5 had been installed in the Constitution class Enterprise commanded by Captain James T. Kirk with the aim of overseeing several battle simulations. But, what no one knew was that Dr. Daystrom had become unstable, his ambition to prove himself to be more than an aging wunderkind blinding him to the fact that he had transferred his own obsessive drive to preserve his legacy to his creation. Several hundred Starfleet officers had perished as a result of M-5's (and its creator's) "malfunction." Two starships, wiped out, while the Enteprise crew became prisoners of their own vessel, helpless to intervene.

And, was the example set by Dr. Soong any better? Hadn't his prototype, Lore, conspired to destroy an entire colony, not to mention the crew of the Enterprise-D? Data, himself, had repeatedly demonstrated the threat posed when an android malfunctioned, or was caused to malfunction by an outside agent. Haftel shuddered to think of the ease with which Data had sealed off the bridge and commandeered the Enterprise when his ailing "father" had activated that homing beacon, planted so deeply in Data's brain even the android had not been aware of it. And the way Lore had manipulated a carrier wave to deactivate Data's ethics program and flood him with hostile emotions…

There was more than enough evidence to prove that, when it came to replicating something as advanced as a positronic brain – especially a positronic brain housed in a durable humanoid frame boasting the strength of at least ten men – if something went wrong, be it in the confines of a starship or on any inhabited planet, the consequences could be devastating. That was why Haftel so firmly believed that group work and expert peer observation was so crucial, not only to the advancement of science and technology, but for the safety of the Federation.

Now, Haftel had returned to the Enterprise to deal with another machine threat: a rogue electronic consciousness with an ability to manipulate matter and energy seemingly on par with the frustratingly enigmatic Q.

Picard, predictably enough, was taking a sentimental approach to this Ihat menace – much has he had with that young Borg captive, Hugh, and with Data and Lal themselves. Haftel remembered all too well how Picard and his crew had anthropomorphized his android officer's relationship with his constructed "daughter," characterizing the pair as a "family." Picard always had been too close to his second officer to view him, his abilities, and his potential objectively. By Data's own admission, he had no human emotions. Haftel knew, better than most, an android's existence consisted of series after series of rational choices governed by elaborate programming designed to mimic human responses: a or b, yes or no, coffee or tea, bluff, bet or call. For all Picard's protests, Haftel had seen for himself that, once under direct orders to deliver his invention into the hands of Starfleet research, Data's programmed rationality would have led him to hand her over. Only his captain's counter-command…followed so shortly by Lal's fatal systems crash…had stopped him.

Haftel still felt he had been fully justified in his actions and his approach to Data's creation. Perhaps he had come too early, tried to remove the fledgling from the nest before it was ready to fly, but better too early than too late. Better to identify the flaws and weaknesses in her construction before the new android could become a threat to herself or others…like her "uncle," Lore.

No, Haftel did not regret what he had done, or what he'd said. If anything, he wished he'd argued his case more strongly, forced Picard to look past sentiment and see those androids for what they were: powerful tools; masterful examples of human brilliance; all wrapped up in the disturbingly delicate, potentially dangerous, unpredictably radical designs of that rogue, antisocial madman, Noonien Soong.

Why, then, after all this time, did the prospect of returning to this ship, to this room, make him feel so…uncomfortable…

"You're not supposed to be here. Not yet."

"Excuse me?"

Shaking himself free of his musings, the admiral straightened and turned a glare on the owner of that snide voice. It was just like one of Picard's people to address a Starfleet admiral so disre..spect..fully…

The admiral's eyes widened, and his thoughts stuttered to a startled gasp.

"Ihat?"

The being made a sweeping bow, his crimson tail fanning dramatically above him before he straightened back to his full, impressive height. The sight of his lizard-green eyes and saurian smile made the admiral swallow reflexively.

"Admiral Haftel," the being said coldly. "You've come too soon. Go back to your ship and wait there until morning. I'll let you know when to return."

Held in the thrall of that raptor-like stare, the admiral almost complied. Almost. But, Starfleet officers do not wilt so easily. Even faced with the unpredictable whims of a powerful being like Ihat…

Data never wanted the performance to end. He had never imagined a high like this; the heady blend of excitement and adrenaline, joy and pride, and something else, some indefinable glow that lit his heart and warmed his face whenever Nora smiled up at him…

Something was happening deep inside him, something strong and wonderful. He poured that feeling into his music, letting it travel through his muscles, feeding the dance of his fingers on the strings, the graceful sweeps of his bow. He was so wrapped up in the experience, he didn't hear the commotion start at the back of the room, or notice the audience's attention waver and break. He didn't see Harpo and his brothers leave the stage and vanish into the crowd, or Danny tap his combadge to alert Barclay – still working in the holodeck – that their quarry had finally appeared.

He just kept playing, and playing, until Danny took him by the arm.

Data gasped, horrified to feel his perfect moment splinter and fade.

"No!" he exclaimed. "No, no—oh, it's gone! That wonderful, wonderful feeling – you ruined it!" He glared at Danny, his blue eyes filling with tears. "Why did you ruin it! What if it never comes back?"

"I understand how you feel, but you must not cry, Data. Not here," Danny said.

"I do not wish to cry," Data sniffled, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "But it isn't fair! I was having such a good time. What happened?"

"I shall tell you, if you stop crying," Danny said, the look on Data's face provoking his positronic brain to suddenly replay his memories of all Lal's tantrums. He shook his head to clear it, but it did no good. Android memories did not ebb, flow, and fade like human thoughts. They had to be sorted and filed before they'd leave him alone.

"Only children cry when their fun is interrupted," he said. "Adults have the perspective to understand good times will come again."

"Most adults presume they will retain emotional awareness throughout their lives," Data sulked. "I do not have that luxury."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Danny said. "But I need you to concentrate now. Admiral Haftel has arrived early, and Ihat has just reappeared."

"Oh…" Data said, marveling at the peculiar tingle in his mind as he felt the 'light dawning through the gloom.' But even that intriguing feeling couldn't last. "That is not good," he said, struggling to peer over the crowd to the source of the commotion at the back. Worf and his security team had surrounded Ihat and the incensed admiral, with Picard, Riker, Troi, Geordi, Dr. Crusher, and Guinan standing just outside the ring, but the volatility of the situation was clear. Another unfamiliar feeling gripped the former android at the sight of Ihat's grinning face, and Data suddenly felt very small and vulnerable, like a snail whose protective shell had been lifted away, and now hung far out of his reach. "What should we do?"

"I have contacted Mr. Barclay, and he is nearly ready to launch our 'trap,'" Danny said. "You and Nora must join him on the holodeck to back him up should something go wrong, or Ihat attempt escape."

"Understood," Data said. "But…"

"Yes?" Danny asked.

"What of the Marx Brothers? Where have they gone?"

"Last I saw of them, they had joined the crowd. Go on, now, find Nora and leave through Guinan's office. I will do what I can here while we wait for Mr. Barclay's signal."

"I am the Constructor here, and I say the clay is not yet ready for molding," Ihat said, advancing menacingly on the admiral. "If you will not leave, you must not interfere with my plans."

"And just what exactly are your plans?" Haftel retorted, meeting the creature glare for stony glare. Worf moved forward, but the admiral gestured for the Klingon and his security team to stay back.

"The seeds I have planted will be easily identified, once they have matured enough to bear fruit," Ihat said. "In the meantime, I say 'on with the show!' Let the music continue!"

"Oh, no, this farce ends right here and now," Haftel proclaimed loudly, turning a pointed scowl on Picard and Dr. Dumont. "In fact, this gathering should never have been encouraged in the first place. I want every civilian and scientist in their assigned quarters now, and all ship's crew on yellow alert. This party's over until I start getting some real answers."

Dr. Dumont looked to Picard, who nodded his apology. She sighed and gestured to her people to follow her out of the room.

"It was a marvelous reception, Captain," she said before she left. "Thank you for understanding how much it meant to us, after all that time alone."

Haftel scowled, but Ihat just crossed his arms and stepped back to lean against the wall by the door, his green eyes glowing.

"Oh yeah?" Chico called out from the rapidly diminishing crowd. "And how about us, eh? We-a come-a here to play and what-a happens? You say-a stop the music! Why for we-a stop the music if-a the people here, they want to hear us play, eh?"

Beside him, Harpo nodded firmly, and Groucho clapped and whistled.

"Who are these men?" the admiral demanded angrily.

"Who are we?" Groucho said, loping over to stand between Haftel and Ihat. "Well, there's my brother, and my brother's brother, and my brother's brother's brother, which would be me. After all the brother of my brother is my brother, and that makes us all our father's sons. At least, that's what mother tells us."

He nudged the admiral and waggled his eyebrows.

Haftel gaped.

"What's the meaning of all this doubletalk? Has no one on this ship the slightest respect for authority?"

"Authority? What about common manners?" Groucho retorted. "Here you come blustering in, interrupting our performance and ordering us to leave before we've been properly introduced. We know who we are, of course, but we've still never heard of you. Unless, you're that new talent scout, in which case—"

"I am not a talent scout," the admiral snapped. "I—"

"In those pajamas? At this time of night? Surrounded by all these stars? What else could you be?" Groucho said. "Just wait 'till you hear my impression of Maurice Chevalier."

"Who?" The admiral sputtered as Groucho opened his mouth wide and began singing about a nightingale in a patently false French accent. "This is ridiculous! Picard, have these men removed to their quarters before— What the hell do you think you're doing!"

Harpo blinked innocently up at the admiral and smiled. Somehow, when no one was looking, the little redhead had managed to rest his foot in the admiral's palm, like a footsore traveler taking advantage of a low stone wall. He'd been standing like that, unnoticed, through most of the admiral's exchange with Groucho, yawning and making impatient gestures behind the admiral's back.

"What is this nonsense?" Haftel exclaimed, and pushed Harpo away from him. He bumped into Groucho, who added a little dance step to his song.

"Oh, he-a no mean nothin', mister," Chico said as Harpo quietly hooked his knee over the admiral's hand and leaned against him as he would against the side of a building. "My brother, he's-a what they call-a duff an' dum. He-a can't-a help-a bein' like he is."

"Well, tell him to get the hell off me," Haftel said, shoving Harpo away again, right into Worf. Harpo retorted by pulling a horrible face, his cheeks puffed out and his eyes crossed. Worf let him go, secretly enjoying the admiral's frustration. He, like the rest of Data's friends, had never forgiven Haftel for Lal's systems crash.

"Oh, we can't do that, mister," Groucho said, watching with brotherly affection as Harpo industriously dusted the admiral's head, shoulders and boots with a small broom he'd pulled from his cavernous pockets, then held his hand out for a tip. The admiral ignored him.

"Why not?"

"'Cause he likes you, see," Chico said. "Our-a brother, he-a don't take a liking to just anyone. Guess that-a makes you our special friend!"

"Picard!" Haftel roared as the manic trio closed in.

Ihat snickered, rocking on his heels in delight. Picard glanced to Danny - who indicated he only needed a few more seconds delay to spring the trap - then stepped slowly forward.

"Ihat," the captain said in his most reasonable tone, "perhaps now would be the time to—"

A shimmering energy field erupted around Ihat, bending and flexing like a fishnet to bind him more securely with every move. The Marx Brothers inexplicably vanished, leaving the admiral bewildered, but the trapped alien hissed and glared through the humming bluish glow, his green eyes seeming to burn through the holodeck viewscreen straight into Barclay's brain.

"He can't see me," Barclay assured himself, and glanced over his shoulder at Data and Nora, who had just arrived from Ten Forward to help him with his trap. "He can't see me, right?"

Data shrugged, and squeezed Nora's hand but, before he could return to his work at the control panel, Barclay gasped, his body wracked with hideous, skull-splitting, gut-wrenching pains. He collapsed to the floor, squirming and writhing in agony. Data and Nora rushed to help him, calling to Sickbay for medical assistance while, back in Ten Forward, Worf and three other security officers converged on the imprisoned intruder.

Ihat winked, then turned on his heel, seeming to dissolve right into the energy trap. The shimmering net exploded into blinding fragments, throwing everyone off their feet and actually rocking the ship.

"What the hell—!" the admiral grunted, floundering on his back like a capsized turtle before Picard managed to gain enough equilibrium to help him to his feet.

"Admiral," Picard said as calmly as he could manage, tugging down the hem of his dress uniform. "Allow me to—"

"Meeting. Now. Observation Lounge," the admiral ground out from between clenched teeth, his pale eyes blazing. "All senior staff. I'm putting a stop to this ancient menace, and if I have to destroy the Enterprise to do it, I will."

"Wait," Troi interrupted, her broad forehead creased with concern. "Where's Danny Soong? He was here before Ihat…escaped. Did anyone see him leave?"

"Well, those Marx Brothers vanished when we dropped the net on Ihat. Perhaps he sent Danny away too?" Riker suggested, but Troi shook her head.

"No… No, I have a bad feeling about this. Something's changed."

"Counselor?" Picard prompted.

"Ihat was amused before, but now…" She looked up, her dark eyes wide with worry. "I sense he's become angry with us, Captain. Very angry indeed."

To Be Continued…

References include Monkey Business, Duck Soup; TOS: The Ultimate Computer; TNG: The Offspring, Brothers, Datalore, Descent I/II, The Measure of a Man, I, Borg; and Groucho's song "Father's Day."