Ever since the little “Soong family reunion,” the android had been gallivanting around Federation space. And, at first, he was gloating in his accomplishments; he had successfully confiscated his brother’s emotion chip, and although he still didn’t feel whole, at least the knowledge of Data’s impasse ensured him that neither of them would ever truly be perfect. However, after his many attempts at integrating himself into other organisations, such as the Rigellian Hunters, Suliban Nomads, and Nausicaan Outlaws, Lore had discovered that even those species had their prejudices toward artificial lifeforms ⸺ they were just as terrible as humans. This realisation made him feel an excruciating loneliness, which brought him to the conclusion to cease his illegal enterprises and roam the galaxy on his own, wishing, hoping he would find a place, a planet, where he could pursue his dreams and live among kindred spirits; individuals who would understand him, because they were like him, lost and forgotten…
The Romulan Warbird he had commandeered from a Nausicaan Outlaw after he had double-crossed the idiot, was on auto-pilot until its sensors intercepted a distress call from a moon not far away from his current position. Curiosity, an intrinsic characteristic in every Soong-type android, compelled him to investigate, and he tapped the coordinates into the console, altering the Warbird’s trajectory.
When the vessel arrived at its destination, Lore scanned the moon’s desolate surface for life signs. There was one, but how peculiar, it was half-humanoid, half-artificial. A cyborg? A Borg?
Lore beamed down to the surface of the moon, and one glance at the lifeform confirmed his suspicions; a lonesome Borg. A smug grin was conjured to his synthetic countenance; he was going to derive great pleasure from taunting one of the Federation’s greatest foes. However, his resolution wavered when he advanced and realised that the Borg was… Wait. Were those tears? Was that Borg crying?
Awkwardly, the android became stationary and whistled to garner the boy’s attention. Perhaps he could deal with the kid and salvage the ship? But then another thought struck him: what if this boy had been abandoned by the Collective? Discarded by his family, just like him? But what if it wasn’t? What if this was a trap?
‘D’you need a ride?’ he asked promptly, throwing all caution to the wind. ‘Because it doesn’t look like you’re going to get anywhere with that piece of scrap,’ he pointed out, gesturing to the crashed shuttle, which was clearly Borg in design. ‘My name’s Lore. What’s yours? Do Borg even have names?’
@spacetimewriter (Lore, cont. from here)
Funny. He had been so upset he hadn’t even noticed when this new stranger approached. He didn’t notice until the man whistled.
The man, an android, looked so much like Data it made Hugh’s heart ache even more and his face twisted up all over again. He sniffled and choked back a sob that escaped his throat in such a small hiccup. He missed Data. He missed Geordi. He missed Geordi so much! And Beverly!! Oh, he missed her warm smile. How she smelled how Hugh imagined a mom might smell. Floral, in a soft and gentle way.
But this wasn’t Data. He said his name was Lore and asked if he needed a ride. Was that an offer?
“My name is Hugh,” he answered, voice tight with emotion. It sounded so strange to his own ears. Strangled, like it was being forced through the vocal implant by a fist in his lungs. “I’m stuck. I’m not Borg anymore and the Collective-” He cut himself off as fresh tears began to fall. “The Collective doesn’t want me anymore.”
“I’m stuck,” he repeated. “I’m stuck.”
He did need a ride off the moon. He just wished it was the Enterprise taking him back. The Enterprise was warm, comfortable, he’d even be okay being trapped in the brig for awhile. At least he had company. Guards, but they counted. This was the closest thing to homesick he’d likely experience. Rejected by two homes, now. If he could call them homes.
He hugged himself. “I don’t know what to do.”
