Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?”

Lore's curious tone is laced with his usual snarky bend as he approaches you, crossing the main space of your shared quarters. His sharp yellow eyes are focused on you, his brow bent questioningly as he steps around Data's workstation where you've currently stationed yourself.

You don't bother to look up, tapping another answer into the form as you scroll through the mundane questions. “Just a silly quiz.”

Lore's brow unkinks itself only for a single eyebrow to raise instead. “A quiz? Are you taking some sort of certification?”

You smile, breaking your gaze away from the screen to look up at him. “No, nothing like that.”

Data's curiosity has been piqued as well, the android pausing his brush strokes on the latest piece of art he's been working on–a recreation of “Puppies at Play” by Walter Hunt–and turning his attention to you and his brother. 

Your eyes flicker over to the younger Soong–acknowledging his joining of the conversation from across the room–and then back up to Lore. “It's a quiz on dogs.”

Lore's eyebrows are practically dancing on his head with the confusion and curiosity that plagues his features. “Dogs??”

Data's tone is equally curious although lacking the incredulity of his older brother. “Canines? Are you thinking of switching careers to one that is xenobiological nature?” 

You recognize the little pang of excitement in Data's tone. Your love is well-versed in the field of xenobiology and would no doubt enjoy the chance to infodump his vast knowledge on the subject to a willing participant. “No, it's just a silly personality quiz. Counselor Troi brought it up in passing as a fun thing to play with.”

Lore bends over, his left hand gripping the headrest of your chair and his right planting itself on the surface of the workstation. He reads off the monitor with a face scrunched in disdain. “‘What dog breed are you?’” He turns his head to face you again, “really, angel? Why are you wasting your time with this?”

“Because it's fun!” You reply, giving him a surprise peck on the lips and then returning your gaze to the screen, selecting another answer from the list of choices.

Lore watches your face a moment, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips at the feel of your kiss still running through his physical sensory inputs. Data sets down his brush and palette before crossing the room to join you both, his head quirked curiously to the side.

Even Spot leaps onto the console, sniffing at your fingers as you choose the last few answers. 

“There!” You say with finality, hitting the last answer and viewing the results. Lore's eyes quickly shift to the monitor and Data's land on the screen as well, both brothers satisfying their curiosity. You read the results far slower than the androids do. Like most quizzes of this type, there's a few things it gets right about you but it's not entirely spot on, either (at least not in your opinion.)

“Move over,” Lore says, nudging you out of the chair.

You lift your brow in surprise and do as ordered. Data places a steadying hand on your elbow as you stand and move out of the way, letting Lore plop into the tall-backed chair and reset the quiz for himself.

You speak to Data in a hushed tone, knowing full well Lore can hear you regardless. “I'll bet you a slip of latinum he gets ‘Chihuahua’.”

Data flashes his brow as he thinks on that bet, but Lore's mocking face locks on you both as the surly Soong replies, “two slips I get Rottweiler.”

Laughing, you answer, “you're on!”

You and Data both watch the screen intently as Lore flies through the questions, answering with such speed and dexterity that the quiz is complete almost before you've even had a chance to bend over his shoulder. The result quickly flashes in front of the three of you, filling up the screen with a bright image.

A chunky, stubby, adorable Corgi smiles at the camera, tongue lolling off to one side.

“WHAT?!” Lore's yell is both angry and incredulous. “A fucking Corgi?!”

At the same time, you bust out in riotous laughter. Lore's attention is drawn over his shoulder, spotting you bent over and holding your stomach. “Yes ha ha,” he deadpans. 

“Corgi!!” You squeeze out from overtaxed lungs, tears forming in your eyes. You laugh and laugh over this while Lore watches, his face seemingly unable to decide between enjoying your laughter or hating the source of it. Suddenly, you stop, your eyes going wide. “Oh… stars…”

Both brothers look to you, concern flashing on their brows. Lore is the one to ask: “what?”

Your mouth pulls into a wide, uncontrollable grin. “Lore? Corgi? …Loregi?!!”

You barely get the word out before the laughter returns tenfold. It's so powerful that your knees buckle and you give in to the grav plating, dropping to the floor and alternating between laughs and wheezes and gasping for breath. 

“You think this is soooo fucking funny, don't you?” Lore asks, frowning down at your body that is fully curled in on itself and shaking with uncontrollable giggles.

“Yesss,” you manage to wheeze out, nodding your head as you continue to laugh.

Even Data's lips curl upward, but Lore's acidic glare shoots to him and wipes the smile off his face. The younger Soong decides against saying anything, not looking to draw his older brother’s ire.

It doesn't work.

“You think you can do better?” Lore challenges.

Data's brow lifts conciliatorily. “I do not know.”

Lore pushes up from the chair, stands to the side of it, and motions to the seat with a mocking flourish. Data flashes his brow at the invitation and takes the seat at his own workstation, long fingers dancing along the controls and resetting the quiz.

“Loregi!” You wheeze through tears, still unable to hold back the laughter and stuck on the floor, rolling back and forth.

Lore glowers down at you, his positronic brain already having thought up at least forty seven different methods of punishment he intends to inflict upon you for your treason.

“Hm!” Data says, his light voice drawing Lore's and your attention. You manage to pause your laughter, gulping down a fresh lungful of air as you push up onto your palms and look up at your love. 

The younger Soong reads his answer out loud. “Pit bull.”

“WHAT?!!!” Lore's loud yell is even more incredulous than before. 

It causes you to fall backwards again, your laughter intensifying to the point where your stomach is burning and tears stream down your face.

“This is bullshit!” Lore yells, pointing an angry finger at the screen. “This thing is rigged!!”

Data looks at Lore apologetically although the younger Soong logically knows he has nothing to be sorry for. “Brother, it is merely a subspace message board quiz. There is no need to take the results seriously.

“Besides…” the little brother adds, the corner of his mouth ticking almost imperceptibly upward. “You would make an excellent corgi.”

“Loregi!!” You cry out from the floor, laughing so hard you're sure your side is about to split in two.

“Alright that's it,” Lore growls. He lunges for you and you never had a chance to escape, barely rolling over to your knees to crawl away before he's got his arms wrapped around your (very sore) stomach. You squeak in alarm as he lifts you like a pillow and tosses you over his shoulder. “You asked for this.”

“No wait!” You cry out, your laughter dying in your throat, but still forcing out its last throes in the form of chuckles. You brace your palms against his powerful back, looking over your shoulder. “Data help!”

“Yes, brother,” Lore grins devilishly as he turns and heads towards the bedroom. “You can help keep her pinned.”

Your eyes go wide as Data's elegant fingertips once again dance over the controls, logging out of the workstation. He calmly pushes up from the chair and falls into step behind his brother as Lore carries you slung over his shoulder like a sack of Vulcan tubers.

“No wait!” You yelp. “Don't help!”

Lore chuckles darkly while Data's calm gaze merely affixes to your wide and pleading eyes. The world around you turns into a blur and you find yourself on your back, fighting against the disorientation of being unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. Your eyes soon readjust from staring up at the ceiling to being caught in two sets of citrine orbs, the twins looking down at you: one smiling wickedly, one staring placidly.

The last remnants of laughter catch in your throat as you sink back under their gaze, the soft mattress underneath blocking any chance of retreat. 

“What's a matter, angel?” Lore asks, his smug voice full of sarcasm. “Finally run out of breath from all that laughing?”

The side of your mouth quirks upward as if someone yanked on a string. You try not to let the laughter come back. You really do. But…

Lore's brow folds inward, his features hardening as if daring you to continue to mock him.

You tighten your lips. Hard. But… the image of that stumpy little dog with the fat butt and long tongue flashes in your mind again and you lose it. A long snort crackles past your nose.

You squeak the word even though you know you're about to make your punishment that much worse. “Loregiiii!!!!”

The twins’ eyebrows both shoot up in surprise at your brazen defiance. Data's gaze quickly shoots to Lore, but the elder Soong keeps his acidic stare squarely on you. He speaks through clenched teeth as he rolls up his long sleeves. “Brother… grab her wrists.”

You squeal and kick and flail in a pathetic attempt to escape the strong, unbreakable grip of Lieutenant Commander Data as Lore Soong steps back towards the doorway. The surly android reaches his long arm back, tapping the door controls to close and lock the bedroom door.

Your muffled laughter mixes with your squeals as you're set upon by two powerful androids.

Like dogs on a bone.

Chapter Text

“Did you ever try to run away from home?”

You ask the question of the android in black who you now know to be named Lore. The pair of you have taken to talking about yourselves more and more ever since the waterfall. He claims it's all about trying to jog your memory. To get you to remember why you showed up on his doorstep.

But you're pretty sure he's also really trying to get to know you. It's… sweet.

Lore's face scrunches a bit questioningly at your query. “Run away?”

You nod. “Yeah. It's actually pretty common… among humans at least. Especially for kids with… well… parents like mine. Like ours.”

You're completely guessing on that last sentence. Lore hasn't come clean about his childhood much aside from little remarks he's made here and there. But you think it's a good enough guess to be willing to vocalize it and risk him laughing in your face about how wrong you are. Even some of his comments have given away the fact his childhood (or whatever you call the early years of an android) wasn't a pleasant experience. They sound like the kinds of things you think to yourself or say under your breath. 

Of all the things to remember, it figures your brain went right for the trauma first.

“No,” he replies. “If I had, I would have succeeded.” The arrogance in his tone melts away, taken over by the melancholy sound of something sadder. Regret? “I never disobeyed my father.”

Your eyes scan over his features, watching his emotions play across the hard line of his mouth. Seeking to lighten the mood a bit, your tone is more upbeat. “I disobeyed my mom all the time. Probably why she smacked me around so much. Heh.”

Lore's mouth ticks up at the corner, but his brow is bent in a look that leans closer to pity than amusement. 

“I remember one time,” you continue, leaning back on your palms, your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress of your bed, “I grabbed a pack and stuffed a replicated loaf of bread, some socks, and a jar of peanut butter inside, and snuck out after a particularly bad beating.

“I walked down the road for a while, but once I got to the end of it, I stopped.”

Lore tilts his head curiously. The motion sparking a familiarity in you that causes your heart to leap although you don't know why. 

You can't help but stare into those acidic eyes for a moment before resuming your story. “I realized I had nowhere to go. Either her side of the family was dead or she was cut off from them long ago. I didn't really have friends with how often she moved me around…”

“What about your father?” Lore asks, leaning against the wall near the door in his usual spot, his arms folded over his plated chest.

Your brow furrows at the question. “He… hm. I don't think he was around… maybe he's dead too…”

The thought caves in your chest a bit, loneliness washing over you like a sudden wave. You really can't remember any family, but is that because of your head injury? Or because you truly don't have any? You feel like you have some. Somewhere. But you don't have any memories to tell you that you're right. Just… vague impressions. Your gut. 

Someone with a beard? Or is it a mustache? 

Someone bald? 

Lore sees the way your brow has become tightly knit, recognizing it as a sign you're trying to dig through the useless, wrinkled meat in your head. He watches you struggle for a bit, but when you release a frustrated huff, he pushes off the wall, crosses the small space, and sits next to you on the bed. “Don't worry about it. If you don't remember, maybe it's a good sign your father wasn't like mine.”

His salty tenor pulls you from your thoughts, snapping your mind back to the present. Your eyes meet with his and a smile tugs at your lips, responding with a small, humored huff. “Maybe.”

There's a brief flicker of autumn gold in Lore's eyes. Gone almost as quickly as a blink. It's so fast you're not even sure if it existed at all. The android sits close, but not so close as to be touching you, respecting your space (or maybe just respecting his own). “Do you remember anything else?” he asks.

“Mmm…” Your lips squish to the side as you look up towards the gray ceiling of your room, the sunlight dancing across it through the window. 

“Oh!” You say with a sudden, excited smile. “I had a cat!”

“A cat?” Lore asks derisively, his lips forming a sneer.

“Yeah!” You nod enthusiastically. “He… she?... was an orange t… wait…” that little nagging feeling comes back. As if a corner of your brain is being tugged on by a piece of thread. “An abyssinian? …And maybe it wasn't mine….”

Your face twists again as you try to untangle the strings of your memories one by one. Sometimes you can loosen the thread and it feels as if it all unravels, your memories flooding back. Other times it's like you've only pulled the knot tighter, your brain clamping down on whatever information you're trying to get like it's some sort of classified file.

“Well good,” Lore says, looking up at the ceiling in his nonchalant way. “If it's not yours, I mean.”

He shifts his gaze back to you, the little sneer of his face returning. “Because I hate cats.”

You laugh, throwing your head back and letting the sound fill the room. Lore watches the way your eyes crinkle and your lips curl, his sharp eyes taking in each detail with a forcibly neutral expression.

“So you're more of a dog person, huh?” You ask, returning your gaze to his with a sparkle of humor still dancing in your eyes.

“Something like that….” He replies, his tone moving closer to the octave of a whisper.

***

Over 30 years ago 

Lore sits on the grass by the edge of the stream that winds its way through the fields this time of year. The young android tosses a stone into the gently-flowing water, disrupting the tranquil water with a heavy plop.

A few streaks of gold still mar his cheeks. It was a strange sensation. Crying. He didn't see the point of it. It's one thing to use tears to keep the eyes clean of debris. That biological function makes sense. But to release excess liquid from nothing more than a state of agitation? It's a ridiculous waste of resources. 

Yet he let them fall for a while anyway.

Lore tosses in another stone, once again disrupting the calm water with his actions. That's all he is to these people. A stone. Just an inanimate object tossed right into the middle of their lives, forcing them to part around it. And they clearly don't like having to make way for something so much better than they are.

This river will dry up. But the stone will remain.

He should take comfort in that. That he'll outlive all of these fucking assholes that want to wear him down. Erode him to nothing. 

The sound of rustling leaves and grass grabs Lore's attention, his sharp yellow eyes snapping up from the water and directed towards the source of the sound on the other side of the twisting water. He analyzes it, noting it's too small for the average human. Too many steps for two legs. And there's a snuffling sound.

Unless old man Ebsen has grown an extra set of legs and lost at least 50 kilos, it's not him coming to yell at the android for being on his property again, at least. Lore would go farther upstream just to avoid the whole thing, but father had insisted he not go more than a kilometer away today. Lore's outburst had made Dr. Soong wary of the way his emotions were manifesting, and the cyberneticist didn't want his “son” going very far. Besides, he isn't doing anything wrong.

The snuffling sound draws closer, Lore's impeccable hearing picking it up over the gentle flow of the stream. It doesn't take much longer (four point seven minutes, to be exact) for the nose to appear: black-tipped with what was once white fur but now more of a dingy brown. The rest of the dog's face follows, the mangy mutt emerging from between some of the cattails that have cropped up along the stream’s sides. 

He's not terribly small for a Terran dog nor is he terribly big. Lore judges the animal to be approximately thirty pounds, but it probably should be closer to forty. The poor fleabag is slim with matted hair and visible ribs. Lore’s brow folds inward as he eyes the beast. He hasn't seen this animal around before. But then, he doesn't exactly interact with most of the colony, either. While it started off as the colonists avoiding him, he's taken to doing the same. At best, they only ever seem to stare at him like he's some kind of curiosity. At worst… 

Lore's lips contort downward as he cuts off that line of thought, rerouting his internal resources to scanning the Federation musical database for more of that loud, angry music he overheard the other day while passing by the Ginn household.

The dog doesn't even seem to notice him yet, the beast focused on a scent trail and not the unnaturally still humanoid on the other side of the stream. Its filthy paws pick up a new layer as it steps through the muck, its pointed ears focused forward as it listens for prey.

Lore watches for a while, remaining still as the creature slinks around. It paws fruitlessly at the mud, sniffs where it just created a small hole, and almost looks disappointed when it doesn't find what it was looking for. Crawdads can be found in the stream here and there, but Lore realizes he likely scared them off with his rock tossing. 

Sorry, pup…

As the dog moves slowly along the stream towards Lore's left, movement in the water on Lore's right catches his peripheral vision. In the calm interlude since the last thrown rock, the scaly creature has dared to venture forth. 

Lore's eyes dart to the fish and then back to the dog, watching its slow pace and the way its tail hangs limply behind as it searches for a morsel. He decides on whether or not to help the creature out. He's not even sure he should try. The dog still doesn't realize he's even there. If he reveals himself it may just run in fear or even turn and attack. That seems to be how the colonists usually react to him anyway. Fear or hostility.

But the damn thing looks so pathetic.

Lore lets out a silent sigh of resignation and shifts. Just enough to get the beast's attention. 

The dog startles, head snapping up and looking back at the sound. However, all it sees is that statue with the yellow eyes. Its ears swivel a bit, trying to determine where the sound had originated.

“Hey pup,” Lore says softly, unmoving except for his mouth. Just enough to let the dog see he's right here.

The dog stiffens, its paws pushing into the mud in a stabilizing stance.

Here we go…

“It's alright,” Lore tries, “I'm not gonna hurt ya.”

The dog's big brown eyes fixate on the strange, talking statue. Its body relaxes somewhat, curiosity overriding its initial response to flee. 

“Good boy…” Lore says, “that's it…”

The dog whimpers, quirking its head curiously at the sounds emanating from the alabaster statue in the yellowy grey coveralls. Grey to the dog, anyway. In reality, Lore's coveralls are an obnoxiously bright shade of orange.

The mutt circles the source of sound at first, its paws plopping one by one like stones as it carefully steps across the stream. It sniffs at the air nervously, leaning in and away at intervals as it approaches the statue.

Lore allows the dog to walk all the way over to where he sits on the grassy bank. Even allows the mangy beast to sniff his fingers. The feel of the dog's whiskers would probably tickle if Lore were human. Instead, the unique sensation simply gets picked up by the tactile sensors in his bioplast and then analyzed within his neural net. He doesn't find the sensation to be unpleasant.

The young android braces himself for the fallout of what he's about to do and then moves a finger.

The dog jumps back and stares. The statue moved but has now gone still again. After a wary moment, the dog leans in to sniff again and this time the statue talks as it moves the finger to lightly brush against the tip of the canine’s nose.

“Good boy…” Lore croons cautiously. Gently. “See? I'm not a threat.” Then, under his breath and to himself, he adds with disdain, “no matter what the colonists think.”

The dog sniffs curiously, but the tension in its body slowly releases, his tail slowly wagging side to side while hung low behind his haunches. Lore is eventually able to lift his hand and make his long fingers reach through the matted hair of the beast, scratching at its neck.

The dog loves that. It leans into the touch, its eyes sliding shut.

And Lore could swear the dog's mouth curls into a happy smile…

The android chuckles with relief. “Now that the introductions are out of the way… I'll bet you're hungry.”

***

He was hungry alright.

The dog made short work of the small fish Lore had yanked out of the water using his finger as bait. The energy from the meal also gave the pup a burst of playfulness which Lore allowed himself to indulge in. The young android laughed. He smiled. He tossed a stick and then got up to retrieve it from the dog's mouth when the little furball ran off with it rather than return it.

Lore easily retrieved the stick from the mongrel's mouth, but was careful not to damage any teeth in the process. He lifts the stick into the air, preparing to toss it again, when both he and the dog pick up the sound of tromping feet.

Two feet. Heavy feet. 

Angry feet.

The dog bolts back into the thick reeds and out of sight as Lore sighs dejectedly, dropping his arm to his side.

“What the hell did I tell you about hanging out on my property?!” the crotchety man shouts in umbrage.

“I'm not on your property!” Lore shouts back defiantly, pointing at the stream with his stick. The stream that lazily flows between them. “See? I'm on this side of the water.”

“Close enough,” Mr. Ebsen shoots back, angrily waving his hand through the air as if swatting flies. “Now go on. Get out of here!”

Lore sneers and tsks. “Fine.”

He then tosses the stick into the water deliberately hard and at an angle. It has the intended effect, splashing water right at the crotchety farmer and soaking his pants. 

Lore shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks home, a little smirk breaking onto his lips to the sound of old man Ebsen cursing up a storm.

***

Present

“I like dogs, too,” you respond as you pull your legs up onto the mattress, sitting criss cross. “But cats have their charms. Who knows, maybe you just haven't met the right kitty yet.”

Lore smirks at you from his position leaning against the wall near your door. “Maybe. But for now…” His sharp yellow eyes rake over you so quickly you don't even catch it. “I think I've already got my hands full with the stray that landed on my porch.”

Chapter Text

What the fuck am I doing?

Lore's face is as hard as stone. Hard lines and a deep furrow in the center of his brow make him look closer to an angry Roman god than a mere human like his father modeled him to be. He chastises himself for the obvious lack of judgment he continues to display. The woman was nearly dead. He could have ended her in the shuttle. Hell, he could have simply turned and walked away and let nature take its course. The result would have been the same. Humans are so fragile and weak it was a minor miracle she survived the crash at all.

And yet for some reason he can't fathom, he saved her worthless, pathetic life instead.

His acidic yellow eyes are hard as amber, glaring down at your body laid out on the concrete floor. The room he's set you in is the only one with an attached bathroom. Not that it was functional. But with this new “guest” he's ordered that rectified. One of the drones is connecting the wiring right now. You won't have running water, but you'll have a functional, modern toilet and sonic shower. At the same time, Dolent is doing the same with your wounds. Putting you together again as well as the medical drone’s capabilities and equipment will allow. She wasn't made to work on purely humanoid beings–on non-assimilated ones–but she has enough general medical knowledge stored in her internal memory banks that it's brought you back from the brink of death. 

Lore isn't sure that's a good thing.

“Careful!” He suddenly shouts, chastising Dolent for dropping your arm to the harsh concrete after examining it. Lore's arms uncross, his hands balling into angry fists. “She's not a drone! You can't just drop her limbs when you're done with them. Set them down gently.”

Dolent’s face scrunches ever so slightly in confusion. Whether it's at the order itself or if the drone is questioning why she's doing this at all, Lore isn't certain. He's not linked to the hive mind. It's Crosis’ job to inform him of anything that requires The One’s attention. 

Why is he doing this? Why does he care if your fragile little arm gets another bruise to add to its collection?

Lore's gaze glides over your face, mottled with bruises and blood. His lips tighten into a thin, hard, defiant line as he's forced to admit the truth to himself. Your skin isn't the deep shade of pink. Those red spots dappling your skin are blood; not freckles. Even your eyes aren't the bright, almost glowing shade of blue as hers. 

But just for a moment… when your fingers grazed lovingly across his cheek… 

Krs’teen

“Hey!” Lore shouts, pushing away from the wall and storming closer to your unconscious form and the drone bent over it. 

Dolent looks up just in time to get shoved back from your body. The android's strength is just barely held in check, preventing the Borg from smashing into the wall behind her, but she's still shoved back a good meter or so.

“What did I say about dropping the limbs?!” Lore yells through a jaw tightened with anger. His hands protectively hover near the leg that was just dropped unceremoniously to the ground, smacking harshly against the sealed concrete.

Dolent blinks a few times at the outburst, her lips flapping as if looking for a way to reply that won't lead to her own funeral. Not that the drones held funerals. The ones that angered The One tended to simply… disappear. Unless they were made examples of. In which case there usually wasn't anything left worth burying anyway.

“Get out,” Lore growls in disgust, looking down at you and visually scanning your body to take in the scope of what's left of your injuries. He doesn't bother to watch the medical drone to ensure she follows his command. He knows she will. Because she knows what will happen if she doesn't.

Dolent stumbles to her feet and takes a slightly longer route to the door, giving The One a wide berth as she makes her escape towards the grand room of the compound. As she leaves and the door slides shut, Lore’s fingertips tentatively feel your limbs and then sides. While the broken bones in your left arm and right leg have been handled, you've got some cracked ribs left to tend to. The android's lips twist into a small frown, his forehead creasing with a hint of …worry?

He shakes his head at the notion, looking down at your face. It's uncanny… the way the blood had sprayed across your forehead. Krs’teen had a set of red freckles on her brow that looked just like a constellation on Omicron Theta–one the colonists had dubbed “the angel”–and here, just above your left eyebrow…

One well manicured finger reaches out, his touch on your skin feather-like and reverent as he follows the path connecting the stars upon your brow. 

The sound of the door hissing open causes Lore to jerk his hand back quickly, his face shifting back into a scowl as he looks towards the opening. 

Goval peers inside, the timid drone having that same, terrified face he often did when facing his king. Lore didn't always know whether to revel in that fear or be annoyed by it. Right now, he chooses the latter.

“What?!” Lore asks, his voice coming close to, but not quite reaching, a yelling tone.

Goval flinches, but gathers enough chutzpah to address The One anyway. “I… that is we…”

Lore rolls his eyes in annoyance, pushing on his knees as he stands upright from squatting beside you. He doesn't need to push on anything, but the little human idiosyncrasies he picked up from his time on the colony left him with habits he doesn't even recognize he's doing sometimes. A trick of the old man’s programming, maybe.

“Spit it out, Goval,” Lore orders with exasperation.

“We finished fabricating the… mattress?” Goval says the last word tentatively, the word sticking on his tongue with its unfamiliarity.

Lore nods. “Good. Bring it in here and assemble the bed frame. Did you scrounge up the linens like I asked?”

Goval nods, gulping. As if one wrong word will send him to the gallows. “Y-yes. Yes. And recovered some padding from the scrapyard ships. For… pill-ohs. But the covers… linens… are a different color.”

Lore waves a hand dismissively. Of all the problems in the galaxy, mismatched bed sets are extremely low on his list. “Bring it all in here and set it up.”

Goval nods, begins to turn to carry out his orders, but then pauses, hesitating at the door. His one, blue eye darts back and forth from The One to the hallway as the cherub-faced drone tries to decide upon a course of action.

Lore sighs with exaggerated annoyance, his arms flaring a bit and then dropping to his sides. “What is it, Goval?”

Goval again hesitates, but takes a deep breath and contritely faces his leader. “Why does a prisoner need a bed? Should we not… restrain her instead?”

Lore's face darkens and twists into a look that tells Goval he is on the razor’s edge. The One's tone matches as it comes through low and rough with clear, deadly intent. “Are you questioning my methods, Goval?”

The drone’s metallic spine snaps ramrod straight as he vigorously shakes his head. “No! Never.”

“Good,” Lore nearly whispers, his eyes still holding a wild, violent look even as his face slackens into one that might almost be taken as congenial. “Then carry out my orders.”

“Of course,” Goval says, this time scurrying off as quickly as his clumsy Borg body will allow.

Lore watches the idiot leave and then twists at the hip, looking back down at you on the floor. His mouth curls into a displeased frown as he analyses your serene face. The spot where the constellation was is now smeared from where his finger had drawn across it. 

What the fuck am I doing?