A/N: Thank you! Thank you!
C/W: Contains abusive behaviour, smut, and dub con/rape. Will contain Data/Tasha fluff and eventual smut. Lore is a master of manipulation. Lore/Beverly (but it's not what it seems).
Lore is sick. He's manipulative and abusive, conniving, and all-around kind of a bad influence. But he's complex. And part of this story is exploring the reaons why he turned out like he did.
This is a fic in which Lore (still his lovably flawed, chaotic self) plays the long con before showing his true colours. Also, Lore and Data have significantly greater capacity to feel than canon suggests.
Tasha ran her thumb across Data's newly healed face.
"Good morning," she smiled.
"Good morning," Data replied.
He pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist.
It was a new level of intimacy for them, but they had been slowly building back that part of their relationship.
Today was the first day that Data had woken up with his 'new' skin. Geordi and Data had finished a new culture of synthetic bioplast. After a long afternoon in the lab, they had managed to complete weaving it in with his existing structure.
It was as if the incident with the dye had never happened.
Data was back to old synthetic self and felt more confident than ever.
Tasha was grateful to have her golden-eyed man back and hadn't been shy about sharing just how beautiful she truly thought he was.
She loved him for he was – right down to his circuits – and didn't want him to change any part of that.
"Have you packed?" Data inquired.
Tasha shook her head.
"I'll do it tonight," Tasha promised.
It was their last night onboard before heading to shore leave on Tauphi VI. Tasha had left all of her packing and preparations for the last minute – granted, she'd had plenty on her mind the last few days.
A part of her was looking forward to waking up with Data tomorrow. Knowing that they could stay in bed was something she was anticipating.
There would be no morning report during shore leave.
It would be hard to sleep late, but Tasha liked their quiet mornings in bed.
But before they could get some much-needed time away, they still had their duties to perform and Tasha had agreed to meet Deanna for a counselling session.
Tasha felt guilty for the way she had treated Deanna the other day.
She was looking forward to clearing the air with one of her dearest friends.
"I'll see you tonight," Tasha said.
She gave his hand a little squeeze and slipped out of bed.
Down on the lower decks, Wesley Crusher grimaced as he heard an alarm going off nearby. He groaned and rolled over to face the wall, covering his ears in an effort to push out the sounds of the other crew.
Their bunks featured sound-dampening shields. They were temperature controlled. In theory, they were designed to be the perfect sleep pods providing maximum efficiency of space and an ideal night's rest.
They functioned like cold-air dormitories – corridors of sleep pods stacked three high in a long, winding maze.
In reality, the lower decks were hardly an ideal place for a good night's sleep.
Because of the crew rotations, training schedules, and classwork, people were constantly coming and going.
The sound-dampening fields only did so much and provided little in the way of blocking out the constant shuffle of bodies in and around Wesley's bunk.
As the bottom bunk, Wes had to contend with people regularly running up and down the ladder – a frequency of which was amplified by Ensign Keller's numerous partners sneaking in time.
Wesley swore they had to keep a schedule.
And he was certain there were times he saw two or three additional people head up there before the other guest of the day had descended.
All in all, it was proving to be an eye and ear opening experience for the young acting Ensign.
Not that he could blame them.
There was little privacy in the lower decks.
Hook-up culture was alive and well. And there were plenty of people bunking together not out of sexual desire, but rather for some sense of peace.
In addition, the frequent gravitational fluctuations from the artificial environment on that deck meant there were times that the outer rims of the ship found themselves floating in their pods.
It was a disconcerting feeling and it drove crew members to seek quieter, more stable sleeping places.
And on top of everything, sometimes it was just so damn lonely.
There was something to be said for a quiet mug of cocoa or a kiss and a cuddle when you were faced with sharing your living space with dozens of other lowly crew members.
Wes missed the privacy and warm, inviting atmosphere of his home their family quarters had provided. He loathed being relegated to a measly shelf of storage under his bunk and sharing a lavvy with thirty other people.
Most of all, he disliked having to use the public study space at the library for his classwork. At home, he had a nice big desk to spread out all of his tablets and tools as he poured over assignments for organic chemistry and quantum mechanics.
Wes flopped onto his back and crossed his arms as he stared at the blank grey ceiling above that separated him from Ensign Lawson's snoring.
Sure, he missed his home.
But there was no way he was going back there – not as long as Lore was hanging around his mother.
Unlike the private quarters afforded the higher-ranking officers and shift-lead Ensigns, the lower decks did not feature replicators for every individual bunk. There were several located in key places, but seating was limited.
Most of the crew opted to take their meals in the canteen where the lines were shorter, and the table space was ample.
Wesley shuffled into the canteen and grabbed a tray.
Punching in an order for some juice and toast he sat down at a table in the corner by himself.
"Hey, Wes," Lieutenant Yar said. "Mind if I join you?"
She had just finished morning report and had decided to grab a cup of coffee before heading to the security office.
Tasha had also seen Wes was looking a little grim. It made her feel good about herself to help others – and she could remember how awkward it had been being the youngest member of a crew.
Most Ensigns were a few years older than Wes.
Like him, Tasha had started her service in Starfleet when she was 15.
And just like Wes, she'd always felt a little odd about being in amongst the other more experienced officers.
Wesley had great respect for Lieutenant Yar. She didn't treat him like a kid when he was on duty like some of the other crew.
She valued his opinion and was always keen to hear his input on situations.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like hell," Tasha grinned. "Long night in Engineering?"
Wes shook his head.
"I, uh, moved into the lower decks," Wesley shared. "Just wanted to try things on my own for a while. Prepare for the Academy, I suppose."
Tasha nodded slowly.
She could remember those days well.
In fact, it hadn't been all that different bunking down in a nomadic camp on Turkana – albeit the sleep pods were much more comfortable.
Privacy was a thing to be treasured.
"It's not exactly all I thought it would be," Wesley confessed.
"Do your bunkmates smell or snore?" Tasha asked.
Wes wasn't sure where to begin.
"When I was on the Nokomis I shared one of those four pod quad spaces with a Vulcan, a man from Earth who abhorred bathing, and an Itiliiquin who insisted on performing the full Itiliiq prayer chant ceremony every night," Tasha shared.
She chuckled and leaned in close.
"It's ninety-eight minutes long," she said.
That earned a grin from Wesley, and he relaxed a bit.
"Yeah, in my case Lawson snores and I think Keller's running some kind of hotel with the number of people in and out of there," Wesley laughed.
It may not have been perfect, but at least it was his own Lore-free space.
"I won't lie," Tasha said. "The perks of being a senior officer are pretty nice. I'll never forget the first time I saw my quarters here. Felt like I had my own castle."
It wasn't just about the space it provided – it was truly a fortress where she could be herself and feel safe from the rest of the world.
"Yeah," Wes said with a hint of sadness.
He nibbled at his toast and tried to push away the thoughts of having his own desk back.
"I guess I just kind of feel like I can't go back. I had a row with my mom," Wesley informed her.
This was territory all too foreign for Tasha to feel comfortable enough to give advice. She'd never had that experience of being a teenager and navigating a relationship with parents or a family.
She had no idea what to say to Wesley.
So she fell back on what she knew to be true.
"Your mother loves you very much," Tasha assured him. "I'm sure that whatever happened can be resolved."
Wes shook his head.
"Not this time," Wesley said. "I know he's Mr Data's brother, but I don't like the way he treats my mom and me."
"What do you mean?" Tasha asked, concerned.
Tasha's face darkened.
"Wesley, did he hurt you? Did he do something to your mom?" Tasha asked suddenly.
If Lore had done something to Wesley or Beverly, then this was far bigger than just a personal vendetta between Lore and Data.
"No," Wes said. "He just makes my skin crawl. And mom just thinks he's so wonderful."
Wesley rolled his eyes.
"It's like she doesn't even see that he's totally taken over all her time," Wesley went on. "Everything is about spending time with Lore and how thoughtful and considerate he is."
Wesley made a face like he'd gotten something sour on his tongue.
"When I shared that I didn't like him being there because it makes me uncomfortable, she told me I could stay in my room or go somewhere else," Wesley explained.
He took a long sip of his juice and set it back down on the table.
"So I left," he concluded.
He was projecting a casual attitude, but Tasha could see he was feeling hurt by the falling out with his mother.
"I'm sorry, Wesley," Tasha said.
She could empathise with his desire to be as far away from Lore as possible.
"You know you're eligible for guest quarters on Tauphi VI. They're very nice. Give you a few days of privacy," Tasha suggested.
He had considered it.
"I'm not going. I've got an experiment going that I need to say and work on. It's thirty percent of my final marks for Propulsion Systems and the next few days are critical," Wesley explained.
Suddenly, Tasha was struck with an idea.
"Why don't you take my quarters for a few days? I'm not using them, and I'll feel better knowing someone I trust is watching them," Tasha offered. "Give you a chance to spread out a little."
Tasha was more than happy to help someone that had also had their life upended by that devious android.
In addition, it truly would bring her some peace of mind knowing that someone was keeping an eye on her rooms.
"Thanks," Wesley said with a broad smile.
"Don't mention it," Tasha replied with a wink.
By the time she reached Deanna's office, Tasha was feeling better than she had in days.
In less than twenty-four hours she would be away from the ship and away from Lore. By this time tomorrow, her and Data would be enjoying the view from a private room – probably over a tray of sushi and maybe even a bottle of wine.
She was planning to pack a deck of cards and give him a royal beating in an evening of gin rummy.
Additionally, knowing that Wesley would be keeping on eye things aboard the ship was sort of the final push she needed to feel confident heading into shore leave.
And the fact it was also helping another one of Lore's victims made her feel like there was hope for herself and for her relationship with Data.
Deanna had assured Tasha there was no need to apologise for their session the other day. She understood that Tasha hadn't been ready to confront the matter.
Their session was productive. On the whole, Deanna had a sense that Tasha had taken a number of important steps toward recovery.
But there was a lingering tension looming in the room, a sense that Deanna couldn't shake that maybe Tasha was feeling too confident.
"You don't need to push yourself. It's not necessary to rush back into anything," Deanna explained. "It's going to require long-term, moderate changes over time. It's not a race."
Tasha grinned and shook her head.
"I know what you're thinking. We're not rushing into anything," Tasha assured her. "I'm just going to see where it goes."
She smiled.
"Data's been so sweet," Tasha commented.
It felt good to finally talk about him in the open. For months, she'd kept the name of her partner hidden from Deanna.
For numerous reasons, Data and Tasha had agreed to keep their relationship a secret. Their responsibilities to the ship were too important and neither of them wanted to feed the rumour mill that ran rampant through the Enterprise.
But now that Deanna was in that secret, Tasha felt this was one space where she could speak freely.
"How is the body scanning going?" Deanna inquired.
It was a coping mechanism they had been working on to help Tasha whenever she felt overwhelmed about intimacy or close contact with Data. It was designed to increase mindfulness, help her connect with her own physicality, and process how her emotions manifested in her physical reaction.
It reminded her that she was in control of her own body, and it was a powerful tool in that respect.
Whenever Tasha felt herself starting to shut down, she would walk through every inch of herself – taking stock of the physical sensations she was experiencing and evaluating whether she liked or disliked them.
It allowed her to eliminate the ones that frightened her one by one while keeping the things that did bring her pleasure or made her feel safe.
Tasha would run through all of her various senses, identifying what she could see, smell, feel, taste, and hear. It often served to soothe her anxiety and to reacquaint her with herself.
And sharing that experience with Data had been great for her and their relationship.
Data reminded her that she deserved to be treated with dignity and affection – and that it was okay to take pleasure for herself.
Tasha had never been terribly well familiar with her own desire.
Fumbling around in the dark with her own hand had proven she didn't know the first thing about loving herself – and she had learned to associate the feelings of arousal with unwanted hands.
In essence, whenever she had felt that need, Tasha had simply shut down and turned herself off.
She still wasn't terribly comfortable pleasuring herself – though Data had gently encouraged her to explore it.
And the body scanning had helped.
"It's going well. We're sharing a bed again," Tasha shared. "Not in a sexual sense. But I sleep better knowing he's there."
Deanna smiled.
"I'm glad to hear it," Deanna replied.
It was by far the most intimate they'd been since Tasha's assault. There was handholding and some loose cuddling, an occasional chaste kiss on the hand, or wrist, or forehead – but that was as far as things had gone.
Not that Data minded in the slightest.
"We'll get there," Tasha said brightly.
"Just remember, you don't need to rush into anything," Deanna reminded her.
She was concerned that Tasha's newfound confidence was more bravado than actual recovery. Call it intuition, but Deanna wasn't sure a few days of handholding was enough to suddenly heal all of the trauma Tasha had suffered.
She'd made such a fast turnabout that it left Deanna worried she was rushing things by choosing to share a room alone with Data on shore leave.
"I'll be available if you need me," Deanna said. "Room 718."
"Pish!" Tasha said, waving her off. "We're going to be fine!"
The next morning, Captain Picard kept a silent watch as he observed the team leaving for shore leave. He would be remaining behind on the ship and was looking forward to a few days of peace and quiet with a good book.
Tropical sands and moonlit waves weren't quite his fancy.
He'd rather spend the afternoon in his holodeck riding programme enjoying a crisp ride through the holographic French countryside.
Data and Tasha were the first to disembark. They were keen to get off the ship together before there was a flood of traffic to the transporters.
Captain Picard was pleased to see they were leaving together. Dressed casually and maintaining a professional distance, no one would know they were off to share a room.
To the ordinary observer, it would simply look like they just happened to be disembarking at the same time.
But Captain Picard knew.
He shared a small nod of approval with Data before they dematerialised.
It was nearly an hour before anyone else had bothered to beam down.
Will Riker had left – taking very little with him aside from his bathing costume, a silk dressing gown, and his sunglasses.
He had no plans to do anything other than be at the beach or be in his bed and that was just the way he liked it.
On the other hand, Geordi La Forge seemed to have packed the entire contents of his quarters. He was sporting a large suitcase, a rollaway bag, and an over-the-shoulder duffle.
"You do realise this trip is only for a few days?" Picard asked as he eyed all of Geordi's luggage.
"I just want to be prepared," Geordi replied.
His engineering-minded brain forced him to be ready for any possible scenario. Geordi had spent weeks researching every available nightclub, hotspot, five-star restaurant, and point of interest. He had a strict itinerary and intended to 'see it all.'
He was ready to meet any dress code or weather conditions the planet might throw at him.
"Besides, I've got time lined up for rock climbing, snorkelling, and racquetball," Geordi explained.
It meant he'd had to pack a lot of extra gear for all his necessary sporting equipment.
In true Spartan form, Worf had only brought a small overnight bag with his essentials. He was looking forward to a few days of hiking. Tauphi VI's capital city was surrounded by a beautiful tropical forest and there was plenty for a budding adventurer to explore.
Jean-Luc bit his tongue when Beverly passed by later that morning.
She was dressed for the beach in a loose-fitting dress and big hat, looking smug that there was nothing the Captain could do to prevent Lore from accompanying her.
Lore arrived a few moments later carrying their luggage.
"There you are, I was starting to get worried," Beverly said as she stepped close to him.
"I am sorry, I had something to attend to," Lore responded.
He glanced down to the floor sheepishly.
"I had trouble determining what I should wear," Lore said as he glanced up at Beverly.
Jean-Luc was disturbed to see they were sharing one bag.
It made clear that she'd packed very little.
"Do you believe we have brought sufficient materials for our stay?" Lore inquired.
It was a question intended to rile up the Captain.
"I am not sure I have packed an appropriate change of clothes should you wish to go out more nights," Lore commented. "Perhaps I should return to my quarters and grab a dinner jacket?"
"You won't need it," Beverly said with a sly grin.
Jean-Luc's stomach flipped.
He was revolted to think they would be spending the next few days shacked up together in some romantic boudoir. Beverly had no doubt pulled out all the stops for him.
As he watched them dematerialise, Captain Picard prayed for rain.
Scratch that. He thought bitterly.
Rain would only give them more of an excuse to stay alone inside with one another.
"Something on your mind, Captain?" Deanna asked as she stepped into the transporter room.
She could sense he was perturbed.
"No, I-uh," Picard trailed off. "I was just getting ready to start my own leave. Have a good trip, Counsellor."
"Don't work too hard, sir," Deanna replied.
Three Hours Earlier
Lore was humming as he examined himself in the full-length mirror along the wall in his quarters.
He couldn't decide between the loose white shirt he'd seen in a men's beach fashion advert or a tighter, black knit shirt.
He stopped, facing forward, and frowned.
For all of the wonderful aspects of his anatomy, Soong had really struggled with proportion when it came to his hands and arms.
While they were an advantageous tool in work (and play), they look awkward and lanky in the short-sleeved knit shirt.
He'd keep that for when they were alone in the room.
Beverly had often commented on how much she adored his arms. It wouldn't hurt to show them off for her.
Tossing on a Panama hat, Lore slipped on a pair of cloth shoes and replicated some sunshades for good measure.
"Computer, what is the location of Commander Data?" Lore asked.
"Commander Data is not aboard the Enterprise," the computer responded.
"What is the location of Lieutenant Yar?" Lore followed up as he preened himself.
"Lieutenant Yar is not aboard the Enterprise," the computer answered.
Lore laughed, grinning as he checked his teeth.
"Showtime," he announced brightly.
Fifteen minutes later, Lore was outside of Lieutenant Yar's quarters. Her complex security lock had been nothing for Lore to simply override.
Stepping inside he glanced around.
He had never been inside her quarters before and had often wondered what they would like.
They were simple enough if not a bit bland for Lore's taste.
They lacked the same kind of homey, warm feeling that he got in Beverly's home.
"You poor, poor thing," Lore tutted aloud.
It was on wonder she found his idiot brother charming. They were both about as interesting as a textbook.
Data lacked the personality necessary to ever be an interesting person. And his Lieutenant was the equivalent of a mind-numbing drone. She was the perfect little soldier, a human weapon trained to point and shoot at whatever her precious Captain ordered her to take down.
They were so beholden to Starfleet. Lore felt like it was their entire identity – duty, honour, obligatory poker with the officers.
Their mundane existence was proof positive that humans were far from superior.
It was Lore's goal, no moral obligation, to introduce them to a little drama – to show them what awaited in the wider world.
He also had a personal score to settle against Data.
And Lore was going to be sure to get his well-earned place on top this time around.
He sighed pleasantly and as he scanned her room.
His eyes stopped as soon as they fell on the door to her bedroom.
Stepping inside, he quickly surveyed the area.
He had a job to do.
But first and foremost, he wanted to satiate his curiosity.
He opened her nightstand with unbridled anticipation at uncovering a sneak peak of what Tasha Yar kept hidden away from the world.
Lore's face fell as he eyed the contents.
Lip balm.
A bookmark that doubled as a small torch for reading light.
A few tubes of nail varnish that looked like they hadn't been touched in ages.
There were no intimate items, no toys or vibrators. He reasoned she had to be the only person onboard (aside from his brother) that didn't own such a device.
His eyes lit up when he spied a notepad.
Flipping through the pages, he hungrily scanned the contents for anything that would sate his desire.
41249.7 – Remind Worf about Saturday
41267.3 – Don't forget to add Greene and Nielson for phaser recertification
41271.2 – Canteen 13:00
Lore dropped the notepad. He shut the door and sat down on the bed feeling thoroughly disgusted.
His brother had managed to fall for the only person more boring than himself.
He flopped back down against the bed.
They've probably never even had sex here. Lore scoffed.
He was starting to feel disappointed. He had been itching to find something. He was about to set off for several days alone with Beverly.
While he was looking forward to their time together, there were needs she couldn't meet.
Lore needed a fix. He needed to do something mischievous and manipulative before leaving.
He wouldn't have the chance once he was at the resort.
Grumbling about how unfair it was, Lore sat up.
His gaze fell upon the shelves built into the wall.
He grinned and made a beeline for the shelves, dropping the device he'd brought with him on the bed.
With a delightful shudder he opened the top drawer.
"Thank you!" he said triumphantly as he looked up, speaking to whatever invisible force in the universe had blessed him with this find.
He picked up a handful of her knickers and inspected them carefully.
They were more stylish than he'd expected. While there were certainly plenty of Starfleet regulation, boxer-brief style uniform BDUs, she had a fair share of other ones tucked away.
The feminine kind that were soft and lacy and gave Lore the inkling that there was hope for her yet.
He wondered if his brother could truly appreciate what it felt like to caress the seam of such a garment while it hugged her curves.
Could Data feel the same sensation of appreciation for what she had to offer?
To Lore's dismay, the garter belt and stockings she had worn on the holodeck were gone. He had a feeling she wouldn't keep them.
It was a shame. She had so enjoyed having his hands tease along them, snapping the top of her thighs, and brushing over the warm, wet flesh of her exposed sex.
She hadn't worn any knickers that night.
Probably for the best. Lore mused.
His eyes fell on a pair in the back. They were blue and cheekier than the other one's he'd seen. Surprisingly, they were sheer.
He surmised that whenever she had worn these, they'd likely covered very little.
"Lieutenant, you do have a little wild side," Lore said aloud.
He wondered when she had ever worn them – and if it had been for Data or someone else.
Eyeing them in his hand, Lore weighed how much time he had before he needed to report to the transporter room against the growing urge to do something devious.
It would be his last opportunity for the next few days.
Dropping his trousers to free his cock, Lore began to stroke himself against her knickers. He wrapped his cock in them as he pumped into his fist, wanking furiously at the thought of her coming home to discover the little surprise he'd left just for her.
He grunted as tugged on his cock, relishing the feel of the soft, sheer fabric against his sensitive bioplast.
The fact she had worn them, that her very cunt had touched the same thing, and that she would likely never wear them again was all too much.
It was almost as good as fucking her.
He could just picture how confused she would be when she found her sticky little treat. He imagined she'd probably feel a mix of revulsion and flattery. Someone obviously thought she was worth wanking too - that had to put her on edge.
Lore groaned as he spilled himself, collecting it all as it pooled and seeped into her knickers.
He couldn't help but smile as he looked down at the mess in his hand.
Enjoy. He thought as he set them back into the drawer.
Checking the time, Lore begrudgingly turned back to the purpose of his visit.
It had been a nice distraction, but there was a specific reason he had broken into her quarters.
Through a crafty bit of engineering, Lore had managed to rig an amplifier that allowed him to target his use of the sole Ferengi Thought Maker.
He had built two of them and was planning to plant one in the bedrooms of both Data and Tasha. For the time being, he would only use it sparingly while they were asleep in order to influence their dreams.
Standing on the bed, Lore popped open one of the ceiling panels and planted the device.
He wired it into the ship's power system and clicked to activate it. It operated on such a low frequency and used very little power that Lore had no concerns about its detection.
It wouldn't show on a routine scan. Someone would have to know they were looking for it and would need to use a specially attuned tricorder to register its presence.
Even then, there was nothing to tie it back to him or to identify its purpose.
He had just gotten the panel into the place when he heard the door to Tasha's quarters slide open.
Lore's artificial pulse began to race.
The prospect of being caught was both dangerous and thrilling.
Straightening his shirt, he prepared to step out into the main room. He could easily feign an excuse.
To his surprise, it was none other than Wesley Crusher.
What purpose could he possibly have for being here? Lore wondered.
"What are you doing here?" Wesley demanded.
"I could ask you the same thing," Lore retorted.
The child had an odd way of being able to distinguish Lore and Data with seemingly nothing more than a gut feeling.
"Lieutenant Yar asked me to keep an eye on her quarters," Wesley replied tersely. "And I know she didn't give you permission to be here."
"How do you know?" Lore asked innocently.
"I know," Wesley snapped as he glared at Lore.
The way he had said it triggered something in Lore.
It was so overly confident.
Conceited.
Distrusting.
Just like the colonists.
The sheer arrogance of this little man-child presuming his intentions were nefarious without any proof set Lore in a foul mood.
"You're a mouthy little thing, you know that?" Lore asked in a nasty tone. "And you don't respect your mother nearly as much as she deserves."
Wesley fumed.
"I didn't think I needed to, seeing as how you're so keen to have her to yourself," Wes replied.
Lore snapping, punching the young Ensign square in the jaw as his duranium-backed fist impacted his mouth, shattering the bone.
For a moment, Lore stood over him, motionless as he stared down at Wesley where he had dropped unconscious and bleeding on the floor.
What have I done? Lore asked himself.
To his relief, Wesley was still breathing.
Lore ran a trembling hand back through his hair as he tried to collect himself.
You can't be trusted to control yourself. Noonian had often said.
Lore's eyes flitted back and forth rapidly as he formulated a plan to cover this up.
He couldn't afford to have Wesley tell his mother or anyone else for that matter.
And he couldn't very well kill the boy. His absence would raise suspicion.
No, he had to make it look like an accident.
Lore cocked his head to the side as a wickedly devious thought entered his mind.
He had to make it look like an accident – and what could be better than an accident that made young Mr Crusher look like a fool?
Several days totally alone and unsupervised in one of the senior officer's quarters was the perfect opportunity for a teenager to get into trouble.
Lore stepped over to the replicator and ordered it to produce a shot glass, a bottle of Andorian vodka, a mug of beer, and a bowl of popcorn.
He poured the beer all over Wesley and the floor and then busted the mug. Lore carefully arranged the glass shards so that it would appear the boy had tripped and fallen, breaking his face on the shattered beer glass.
Lore poured half the bottle of vodka down the drain, swilling some in the shot glass for good measure.
He casually tossed the popcorn about. Lore glanced down at the bowl and considered what to do with it.
After a few seconds, he shrugged and threw aside without a care for where it landed.
Next, he mussed up the sofa cushions and strew them about the living space. He broke the ceramic sculpture that sat on the end table. It was a piece that Data had made for her in his stupid little pottery class. Lore then tipped over her potted plant, sending dirt out onto the carpet.
As a final touch, Lore administered a mix of sedatives and a muscle relaxant into Wesley's system using a medical pack he'd nicked during inventory. He'd gotten accustomed to carrying it with him – and it was an instinct that proved useful in this particular situation.
It would ensure that Mr Crusher had a nice long nap and would wake up feeling dehydrated and nauseous with a wicked headache – all the necessary symptoms for this to look like a wild night gone awry.
Lore prided himself in his ingenuity.
No one was going to believe Wesley now if he claimed to have found Lore in Tasha's quarters.
For good measure, Lore programmed a generic message to ensure that Mr Crusher would be discovered in such a state.
He checked the crew manifest to discover who was still aboard. His complex speech recognition pattern allowed him to replicate any sound pattern that he had heard.
Lore selected a random Lieutenant with quarters on the same deck and recorded a message requesting the Captain check on Mr Crusher after seeing him 'drunk and disorderly on deck 9.'
It was programmed to activate in a few hours – long after Lore would be down on the planet enjoying the afternoon with his beloved Doctor.
If this didn't teach Wesley not to mess with him, then the boy was dumber than he looked.
As a final measure, Lore wiped the computer records of his presence in Tasha's quarters. There were only a handful of people onboard of detecting such a hack and they would have to know they were looking for it in order to even begin a search.
"Sweet dreams," Lore said on his way out.