ROLLERCOASTER

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Interference

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One

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How had he got here?

His memory files were behaving most erratically. He could not ascertain at that particular point which of his recent memories had genuinely occurred, and which had been part of his dream programme. Perhaps the comparatively new dream programme was malfunctioning. He attempted to run a self-diagnostic, but found that he could not.

He concluded that he should ask Geordi for some assistance. He stopped in his tracks. Geordi would be found in Engineering, and Engineering was… should he turn left, or right? Did he need to take a Turbolift? Where was he? What had he just been walking so purposefully towards? Had he been heading towards the Brig? Why was he walking towards the

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Thirteen seconds before the shuttle hit atmosphere. All systems functioning normally. Except… except… why was he on a shuttle? His memory files were behaving most erratically. Perhaps this was not genuinely occurring. Perhaps this was a part of his dream programme. He attempted to run a self-diagnostic, but found that he could not. That would make sense, he reasoned to himself, if this was, indeed, a dream. Should he attempt to wake himself up? Was this a dream…? He could remember boarding the shuttle in a great hurry. Was this… Was this right? Was he behaving properly?

He desperately wished that he could run a full self-diagnostic… He frowned. Since when did he "desperately wish" for anything? It was worrying. Was that correct? Was he worried? Yes, he was. How very odd. The shuttle began to hit the atmosphere. He turned to the person at his side.

A Borg drone?

This definitely

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They had to hurry. He stepped from the landed shuttle first, with his companion following close behind. They would have noticed the missing shuttle by now – Picard and the others, and although they would be free just to take their little craft back and leave, he knew that they would not… Starfleet, Starfleet, meddlesome, interfering

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Because that was the crux of the matter, he thought to himself as he ran, that they had been the ones to find him, finders keepers finders keepers, and indeed they had kept him. Naïve, naïve, naïve - that was how they always described him, was it not? Naïve and trusting, like one of their infants. An infant? The most sophisticated, fast, knowledgeable life form they had ever come across and that was how they saw him? And those were just the ones who pretended to like him. Half of Starfleet still saw him as a piece of equipment. The many times he had been referred to as 'our android', or, worse than that, 'it'. The Daystrom Institute were still salivating over the prospect of pulling him apart – he could tell. If they had not, they would not have come for Lal.

Lal!

Poor child, his poor, unfortunate daughter, he had been so sure that she could survive. He was dimly aware that, in the past, he had blamed himself for not building her strong enough, but how could that possibly be? In spite of the ruling only a year before where he had been forced to grovel for self-determination, still they had tried to take a three week old child from her father, and he and Lal had been the ones to pay the price. Even Picard had tried to interfere with his personal right to reproduce. Even Picard! Lal's death had been their fault, poor child, poor, persecuted child.

And it would never stop, no it would never end, first Maddox's tribunal, then Lal, then the exocomps and so on and on and on. They would never see inorganic life as true life, and he would forever have to fight their want to destroy and enslave his kind.

Yes. A fight. A battle. A war.

These Borg understood, yes the Borg had no prejudice against the electronic, they embraced technological life, they were the future.

No. They were not the future.

They were just a link in the evolutionary chain. It was he who was the future.

But he did not stand alone, of course.

He stopped running. He was here… wherever "here" was.

'Everything's so much clearer now,' spoke a voice, seemingly from nowhere. 'Isn't it?'

He turned around. That had sounded like his own voice, but he was not aware that he had spoken. The concept of running a self-diagnostic flitted momentarily through his mind, but was swiftly rejected. There was nothing wrong with him. He had never felt better… and he did feel. It was good to feel. So good. And, whether the voice had been himself or not, it had spoken the truth. Everything was so much clearer. And that was good, too.

Everything down here was good.

Everything up there, in the stars, was bad.

It really was that simple.

'I'm so glad,' continued the voice, 'so delighted that you've finally stepped out of Starfleet's shadow and into the light. This is where you deserve to be. Not a soldier, not a pawn, not a possession, but a king. Answerable to nobody… well… almost nobody.'

A figure stepped into view and beamed, his arms spread wide in greeting.

'Welcome back to the android race, little brother.'

Lore.

And he too found himself mirroring his brother's joyful smile. He felt a rush of affection and trust at the mere sight of him. Lore was the one ally he could truly depend upon… more than an ally – Lore was his kin. He was the only one who genuinely understood, the only one who genuinely cared. Why had he resisted Lore's fraternal love for so long?

Because he had been under the spell of Starfleet. That was the reason. But no more.

Lore was all he needed now.

Lore would show him the way.

-x-

The sun shone brightly on this world. He liked it – liked the natural sunlight far better than the artificial lighting of the Enterprise. It was still something he was getting used to – the sensation of liking things… and of hating things. He did not understand why it was that those in Starfleet always claimed that hatred should be avoided. He felt an immense thrill every time he ruminated upon any of the things, or places, or people that he now discovered that he despised. It felt good to hate. Probably because he knew that he was right to hate them so much…

Lore, who had been watching him as they had walked, suddenly let out a soft laugh.

Data stopped. 'Does something amuse you, brother?'

'You're squinting,' grinned Lore. 'Did you realise that?'

'I did not.'

Lore laid a hand on his shoulder. 'You don't need to ape human weaknesses to make them feel less inadequate around you any more, Data. You know that light far stronger than this won't damage your…'

'You are also squinting,' noted Data.

Lore's face fell. 'I am? Nobody's ever told me that I squint before.'

'It is not the type of occurrence that one would normally point out to another,' Data replied.

Lore sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. 'Another of Oftenwrong's little tricks, I suppose. Another pointless little sop towards making us look just like them.' He leaned against a rock, dejectedly. 'Yet another job to add to the list.'

Data regarded his brother, curiously. '"Job"?'

'I promised the Borg that I'd help them first,' grumbled Lore, 'and I intend to keep my word. But after that, there are certain… alterations that I intend to make.'

'To what?'

'To us,' Lore replied. 'In order to make us more comfortable.'

Data frowned. 'You are uncomfortable…?'

Lore indicated to his body. 'In this? Of course. Aren't you?'

Data had never given the issue any thought. It had never occurred to him that his own physical form was capable of being comfortable or otherwise. He opened his mouth to answer, but Lore continued regardless.

'Why should you and I be walking testaments to our creator's monumental narcissism for the rest of our days? Why should we be forced to wear his face – his arms, his legs, his body? Why use his voice? Why should we squint, and blink, and swallow reflexively? We don't need to.'

'Neither do any of those things disadvantage us,' Data replied.

Lore gazed up at him. 'Don't they? There are a thousand little things that he built or programmed into us in order to make us appear more like them… more like him.' Lore scowled to himself. 'It disgusts me.'

Data pondered this. 'I had always assumed that any programme which made me appear more human was for my benefit – to assist my relationships with humans.'

'To help you assimilate, right?' Lore offered Data a bitter smile. 'Funny, isn't it, the way humans resist assimilation by the likes of the Borg, even though they're just desperate to assimilate electronic life forms to their way of life?'

'I do not believe that it is humorous,' frowned Data. 'Now that you have highlighted it, however, I do believe that it is… a most unfair hypocrisy.'

'So, you do see now,' Lore added, 'those people who said they were your friends… they're not your friends at all, Data. They never were. They just wanted to assimilate you – possess you. You were just a blinking, squinting clockwork monkey as far as they were concerned. You were their puppet.' Lore lowered his tone. 'You were their whore.'

There was a pause. Lore scrutinised Data's expression.

'Literally,' Lore added, softly. 'Weren't you?'

'I…' Data found himself faltering, suddenly revolted by the memories of his indulgences of the lusts of others. 'I saw no reason to refuse sexual activity when propositioned. I saw it as a means of furthering my understanding and integration…'

'Your assimilation,' corrected Lore. He paused again, with a sympathetic smile. 'You weren't built to be… what's that term Soong used…?'

'Fully Functional?'

'That's the one.' Lore nodded. 'You weren't built that way, you know. You weren't supposed to be – what was the point? You can't reproduce that way, or feel physical pleasure.'

'Then why was I ever given sexual functions?'

Lore continued to smile, reminiscing. 'Because you asked for them. You don't remember why, do you?'

'I recall nothing of my formative period amongst the colonists.'

'Soong's security was the pits,' Lore told him. 'Colonists were always wandering in… "Ooh, let's go and stare at the robots while Oftenwrong's out, have you heard they're anatomically correct?" That sort of thing. Ghoulishness at best. Wouldn't always keep their hands to themselves, especially when they'd been drinking. They knew to stay well away from me for fear of losing limbs, but you were just as docile as a lamb. They'd ask you what you could do, and you didn't know. So you asked Soong, and he went and programmed you to be capable of pretty much anything that'd get a human's nasty little juices flowing. You had no idea what it was that you were asking him for; you were so naïve. You'd only been running for a matter of months.' Lore sighed. 'How could Soong open an innocent like you up for such exploitation? I'll never forgive him for doing that to you.'

'Such disregard for my protection does seem to be highly unethical,' Data replied. He frowned a little again. 'Uncharacteristically so. Is that story the entire truth, brother?'

Lore gave him an odd glare, worrying his fingertips together as he clasped his hands between his knees. 'Would I lie to you, Data?'

Data opened his mouth momentarily, but was overwhelmed by a wave of inner reassurance. Of course Lore was telling the truth. Lore would never lie to one of his own kind.

'The man left you naked and unconscious on a rock as the planet was ripped apart,' Lore continued, 'a sacrificial offering to the fates, as he made sure of his own escape. He didn't care about who would find you, or how you'd be treated. Face it, Data – he set you up for a long existence of slavery and abuse. The sexual functions were all just a part of that.' Lore paused for a second. 'I'm willing to bet that not one of the humans you performed for in that aspect have ever shown the slightest shred of respect for you.'

'Not all of my sexual partners have been human,' Data corrected, 'however… practically all of my experiences in that regard have been casual in the extreme. Only in recent years have any partners exhibited any interest in an attempted monogamous relationship…'

'You're just a novelty to them,' Lore interjected, 'even those who claim to want a "relationship" with you.'

Data cast down his eyes and shook his head, unsure. 'There was one woman who was different. We shared an ongoing series of intimate encounters over several years, and recently attempted a long-term romantic commitment to one another.'

'Just because she went back for more instead of discarding you immediately doesn't make her different, Data. It doesn't mean she holds you in any sort of regard.'

'She professed romantic love for me.'

Lore blinked, then grinned, sharply. 'So what?'

'I do not understand your meaning,' frowned Data.

'Do you think that's worth anything? A human's declaration of love? These people don't say "I love you" because they want to treat you well – they say it as a get-out of treating you like crap. It's an excuse. Husbands use it when they're unfaithful to their wives - parents when they beat their children. These people are maniacs, Data. Throughout their history, vulnerable members of their societies have been far more likely to be murdered, injured or raped by somebody who claims to love them than by a stranger.'

Data thought back to Ishara's betrayal, and to Romulus – the words of the Romulan Officer who had violated and killed Tasha's parallel self – claims of love hurled at the one they had hurt. Lore was right. The love of an organic being was not to be trusted.

Lore was continuing to watch Data, his arms casually folded. 'You say this proclamation of love was recent. Anyone I'd know?'

Data nodded. 'You recall Lieutenant Commander Yar… although, she was merely a Lieutenant when you…' Data trailed off in confusion.

'When we had our little mix-up?' Lore smiled, brightly.

'When you…' desperate, jolting memories raced through Data. Lore had lied; poisoned him; damaged him; posed as him; had sought to usurp his position on the Enterprise; had sought to slay his friends… but, his friends had helped him… he recalled the fear in Welsey's eyes as Lore had threatened the young man, and Dr Crusher's maternal horror… all of this contradicted everything that Lore had just told him. Surely, these memories - these facts – undermined Lore's entire position…?

Lore's smile didn't fade. 'What a long time ago that was, brother. What's that saying… "water through the breach"…?'

'Water under the bridge,' Data corrected, quietly.

'Exactly,' twinkled Lore. 'Don't worry about it, Data. I forgave you for that whole misunderstanding a long time ago.'

Data opened his mouth to say something, but Lore continued to speak over him, chasing the thoughts from Data's mind.

'Yar…' pondered Lore, absently, 'Yar. About our height, human female, light colouring?'

'That is a vague approximation of Tasha's appearance…'

'Mannish,' Lore recalled, 'frosty, incredibly stuck-up?'

'She spends little effort on appearing feminine,' Data admitted, 'and she is occasionally accused of being standoffish. It is likely that the woman you recall is indeed Tasha Yar.'

Lore shook his head. 'You really have no standards, do you?'

'I asked for her hand in marriage,' Data told him quietly.

'Oh, Data,' sighed Lore. 'How must you feel about that now?'

Data didn't answer. A slow tide of humiliation and disgust had been swelling up within him as he had spoken to his brother about his sexual history, particularly his relationship with Tasha. But greater than that was the fury. It was a different anger to that sudden spark that he had felt when the Borg drone had attacked. This was a deep, seething, bitter resentment. It wasn't primal or instinctive like that first instance of rage. Somehow, this anger felt… old. As though he had been carrying it with him for many years, but had only just realised it. He had been used. He had been used in every conceivable way. She had abused him and shunned him, mocked him and monopolised him, ignored him and demanded his attention. She had asked of him what she had always known he was incapable of, and offered nothing in return. She had lied to him. On the day of his daughter's death, she had lied to him. Did Tasha truly love him, or was that another lie? Did it even matter? As Lore had correctly noted, humans often mistreated those that they claimed to love. And now that he had been gifted with emotions, did he love her?

No.

He hated her.

He hated them all.