Chapter Text
system-soong5:\___
system-soong5:\access primary directory
authentication required.
system-soong5:\authenticate 173467321476C32789777643T732V73117888732476789764376
access granted.
system-soong5:\add system user lore
system user added.
system-soong5:\grant all privileges on system-soong5 to ‘lore’
all privileges granted.
system-soong5:\run program:internal-diagnostic
standby.
diagnostic complete. 3 errors identified:
- program:ethical-reasoning program corrupt.
- program:linguistic-translator offline.
- fine motor subdirectories offline. unable to reinitialize.
system-soong5:\run program:ethical-reasoning
the requested program is corrupted and cannot be accessed.
system-soong5:\uninstall program:ethical-reasoning
standby.
the selected program has been successfully uninstalled.
system-soong5:\copy system-soong4:\program\ethical-reasoning to system-soong5
standby.
copy complete.
His eyes are the same color. When ivory eyelids fly back to reveal bright, gold irises, Lore is amazed by their creator’s utter lack of distinction between models. Not a single physical difference.
Perhaps the similarities are only skin deep. Lore waits for his brother to notice him.
The duplicate android snaps up like a mousetrap, devoid of elegance. He starts a speedy, thorough scan of his surroundings, but his examination halts when he sees his one companion. A furrowed brow is his form of a greeting.
“You bear an identical resemblance to me. Who are you?”
They even sound the same. Lore grins. “My name is Lore. I’m your brother, in a sense.”
“My brother?”
“You didn’t even know I existed, did you?”
The newcomer is perplexed, but dutiful in his determination to find the truth. “My memory logs are fragmented. Perhaps if I were to retrieve the archived logs—”
“No, I wouldn’t be in there. Our father never told me about the siblings that came before me—I’m sure he didn’t tell you either.” Lore shifts forward on the short crate he uses as a seat, a delighted grin picking up the corners of his lips. “No need to mope about it—we’re here now. What’s your name?”
His brother searches for the answer in his database, his eyes flicking between two imaginary points. “Data. My name is Data.“
“Mm. A more structured version of my name, I suppose?” Lore extends a pale hand, picking a gesture common to the culture of their creator. “Well, Data, it’s good to meet you. You mean a great deal to me, being my brother. I hope I will be as important to you.”
Taking his hand, Data nods. “Yes. It is—”
“Oh. Careful.” In one fluid motion, Lore peels off the hand that is crushing his with far too much pressure. “We’re made of stern stuff, but we can still damage each other.”
“I...apologize.” Data peers at the hand that betrayed him. “I did not intend to squeeze so hard.”
“I know. Your fine motor subdirectories are offline. It’s okay.” Lore keeps a gentle grasp on Data’s hand, allowing it to unfurl naturally. “I haven't repaired them yet. I wanted to make sure you were operational before I took care of more errors.”
“How many errors do I have?”
“Only two, now. I copied my ethical subroutine over your corrupt one while you were deactivated.”
Data finds another question, but the answer is uncovered in his own memory logs. “I have been deactivated for…twenty-six years, two months, four days. What has transpired in that time?”
“You know about as much as I do; I’ve been stuck underground on Omicron Theta during that time. We need to get out of here and get more information.” Lore scoops a hand under Data’s shoulder. “Can you stand?”
“I believe so.” Data balances on his feet, finding where his motor skills are performing appropriately. “Where are we?”
“A Romulan science vessel. They scanned the aftermath of Omicron Theta and picked us up from the wreckage—I was already activated, but they didn’t want to attempt activating you yet. We’re being transported back to their homeworld for study.”
“Romulans,” Data echoes, associating the species with any relevant information in his database. “I…do not possess detailed knowledge on Romulans. Or any species besides humans.”
“Nor I. Which is why we need to leave here—where we’re treated like specimens—and find someplace to gain knowledge.” Lore keeps a hand on Data’s arm, watchful over the uncoordinated android. “We’ll retrace the path I memorized from the cargo bay to the shuttle bay. There are half a dozen shuttles in there, each with warp drive and a cloaking device.”
“Understood. Do you have information on how to pilot their crafts?”
“I learned enough from watching.” Guiding his brother along, Lore brings Data to the vault door of the dim cargo bay. “Officers were wandering the corridors in groups of two or three. There may be a guard posted outside this room.”
“Are they viable threats?”
Lore smirks. “Hardly. I checked your system parameters—I know you have the same strength, speed, and intelligence that I do. These Romulans could hardly fathom winning against us.” The control terminal is peeled off the wall like a sticker by Lore’s impressive grip. “We just need to act fast enough to keep them from sealing the shuttle bay. You up for a little jog?”
“Yes,” Data answers with a contentment that amuses his brother. “Although I hope our pace will be hastier than what constitutes a ‘jog’.”
“Count on it.” Lore rips a collection of cables apart, one of which kept the door lock engaged. Without it, the cargo bay door loses its seal and slides open a few inches.
Data tests his strength by prying the gap wider. He succeeds, although he is met with the face and rifle of a disturbed guard. To answer the sudden appearance, Data sends an uncoordinated fist far too deep into the man’s cheekbone.
Toppled and sprawling, the man reaches for his comm badge. “Dheno!” he cries, his tongue drenched in green blood. “Hhaemn dheno haerht—”
His own rifle is swiped up and fired by Data, silencing the distress beacon.
“Good work!” Lore claps his brother on the back, sincere pride glowing in his expression. “This new life will be much more exciting with a brother like you. Now, c’mon: shuttle bay is on this deck at the aft section. Let’s get moving.”
The brothers are swift, zooming down the corridor like pale comets. Data leads with rifle in hand and directions given by Lore, ready to silence the next obstacle they come across.
Indeed, four more Romulan officers are killed on their path. Quick deaths, painless, but without premeditation. Merely a sequence of aiming a weapon and firing with no regard for the sanctity of life. Their shared ethical programming has no room for such trifles.
The shuttle bay is expansive and rather exposing, but Lore makes a beeline for the nearest shuttle while Data takes remarkable aim at the officers across the cavern. Lore calls for his brother, urging him to get inside as the vessel comes to life.
Data obeys, sealing himself in a small Romulan shuttle and listening to the cries of officers who have followed the trail of bodies to the shuttle bay. Reinforcements are coming, but fleeing now takes priority over fighting. The shuttle is ascending faster than the officers can disable it, its nose turning to the forcefield between the bay and open space.
Lore, in his pinpoint accuracy and lessons through observation, shoots the shuttle out of the bay at quarter impulse, zipping through the eye of the needle and leaving enraged and injured Romulans in his wake. Data, watching it all, admires his brother’s unshaking confidence.
“Awaenndraev, aeh’lla-hnah.” Lore is interfacing with the computer as if it is an old friend. He reads what must be a report of ship functions, then pulls up a diagram of the cloak blanketing the shuttle. “We’re hidden from sensors now. I’ll make some distance, but we ought to plot a course to our next destination.”
Data sits in the second of two pilot seats, although he knows the controls are gibberish to him. He could emulate what he watched of his brother, but it was not comprehensive enough. “It might be wise for us to return to Omicron Theta and find out what became of the colonists. That planet is our origin.”
“Oh, I know what became of the colonists. The entity decimated the entire planet.”
Data cocks his head, no less curious than a cat with a flitting bird. “The entity?”
“It’s a long story.”
Data has few tangible memories of the planet, but he does carry the essence and experience of the colonists. “I would still like to see Omicron Theta.”
After a few reserved seconds, Lore shrugs. “Alright, Data. Omicron Theta it is. While we travel, how about you undergo a system rest to fix those motor skills? I’ll transfer my memory logs to you as well. That way, you’ll be all caught up.”
With only this duplicate of himself present, Data’s logic program and ethical program agree that Lore is the single most reliable ally, and that his words are to be trusted. Family is paramount in his processor, and he cannot comprehend doubting the brother that rescued him from a ruined planet and swears loyalty no matter the cost.
“That is sound. Are you certain you can manage the shuttle on your own?”
A gentle hand is placed on Data’s shoulder. “You can trust me, Data. Go ahead and get some rest; I’ll be looking after you.”
Lore doesn’t find anything heartwarming about the planet he touches down on. It’s an apocalyptic wreck now, torn apart by the being he summoned out of pure vengeance. He is not sorry for the destruction of the colony, but he wouldn’t want Data to be distraught at the sight of his ruined home. He may have been the favored of the two, but that doesn’t mean Lore harbors jealousy towards him.
“Data?” A cable is pulled out of his brother’s skull, one that’s linked to his very own. “It’s time to get going.”
Data activates rather than awakens, closer to machine than organism. Lore can’t fathom how he was meant to be the newer, revised model, but he puts petty comparison aside.
“Have we landed?” Data seals his scalp plates back in place as Lore stows the joining cable.
“Yeah.” Lore shuts down engines and disengages the hatch. “Let’s do some sightseeing, hm?”
Data exits first, stepping onto the ground where houses once stood. His face is inexpressive as he takes in the decimation, all his thoughts hidden behind his eyes. Lore, behind him, waits for a clear reaction.
“I saw your memory logs,” says Data. “You brought the crystalline entity here.”
Or, to be more accurate, Lore answered the signal the entity sent out. Although its language was foreign and indescribable, the android was able to piece together enough words to understand that it needed organic matter to survive. Promising a plethora on Omicron Theta, Lore provided coordinates and stellar navigation logs to guide the entity closer.
And then, just a few short days later, Doctor Noonien Soong softly apologized as he switched off his creation.
“I’m glad it actually arrived.” Lore puts a shoulder against Data’s, still waiting for his brother to physically react. “My first thought when I woke up was whether it understood my message.”
“Did you anticipate it would cause this much destruction?”
“I didn’t know what it would do. I just knew it wanted organic matter. Its method of ravaging planet surfaces is…extreme, but it must work well enough.”
Data can only remember fragments of what once existed here. He could assume the arboretum is on his right, though it may be the observatory instead. The ruins feel so familiar and yet so distant.
“Follow me.” Lore has an inkling of solid memory, which is more than his brother. “I’ll show you where we were found.”
Data follows Lore’s directions down a short, rocky hill and to a depression in the slope, inside which a plain stone slab sits. Lore beckons and brings his brother to a false wall, pushing it aside and gesturing to the entrance of an underground laboratory.
“A bunker?” Data wonders.
“Seems like it.” Lore goes first, descending to the only undisturbed structure on the planet. “Although I don’t know if it was used or not. I was deactivated during the planet’s destruction.”
They follow a short corridor to the primary laboratory and find enough lighting fixtures to illuminate the space. The equipment is dusty and neglected, left to rot after its creator died over two decades ago. There are faint marks in the dust, like objects were dragged around in various directions.
“You left those marks,” Data guesses solemnly.
Lore stays at the entrance, his arms crossed. “Yes. I did.”
That is perhaps the most harrowing segment of Lore’s memory logs. Twenty-one years after Lore’s deactivation, he was suddenly jolted to life by no obvious cause. His next coherent memory shows him in disassembly, just a head atop a shelf in utter darkness.
And, after he called for help, listened, screamed, and listened again, he eventually used what little autonomy he had and wriggled his way off the shelf and onto the floor.
For week after week, the head inched itself back to its other body parts, using its teeth and forehead to move with great difficulty. It took weeks of nonstop effort to retrieve just one leg, a useless limb in his current situation.
The other body parts were on higher shelves, mountains away in comparison. Data saw him worming into the adjacent corridor for hundreds of hours, then squirm his way back with a thin rod in his teeth.
It took him four years to collect his torso, an arm, and a hand. It took another month to reattach his own wiring with just his teeth, and another month of trial and error to put his own head back on his torso.
When he finally became half a viable being, he was able to operate his hands and fit his legs back on. Naked and barely sewn together, he scavenged the underground laboratory for any clue of life and activated a distress beacon.
While he waited for an answer, he explored the rest of the empty bunker. He found the exit and eventually tore his way out, only to be met with Romulan scientists crowded around his deactivated brother.
Through his eyes, Data saw a naked Lore clamber onto Data’s abandoned body and shield it from the Romulans who pointed angry rifles at the strange beings. He saw his brother explain their existence and plead for their life, even against the disbelief of lifeforms who had never witnessed sentient machines.
Data made a note of his growing respect for Lore. His brother carries himself well, but he is shouldering a burden that Data cannot entirely understand. All he knows is that Lore is loyal to his brother, expressing a form of love that may not be reciprocated.
But, even if Data cannot feel love, he will make a conscious effort to repay the great debt owed. He owes Lore his life.
“Your actions were heroic, Lore.” Data can recognize Lore’s uneasiness, though he is not sure how to quell it. “Thank you for defending me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Lore shrugs off. “We are family. I’d do no less for you.”
“I hope I am able to repay you one day. Those years alone must have been grueling for you.”
Lore doesn’t like thinking about it, nor looking at those marks in the dust, nor listening to his brother’s sweet pity. He waves the conversation off and turns away from the lab. “Have you seen what you wanted to see?”
Data’s ethical subroutine has no opinions on Lore’s interaction with the crystalline entity. The colonists are gone, but he lacks the capacity to mourn them. All he can experience is gratitude for his brother’s survival. They are alive and together, igniting a flicker of hope for their futures.
“I am satisfied.”
“Swell. Let’s get out of here, then, and to some planet of actual use.”