Legal Disclaimer; Star Trek: The Next Generation and character(s) Lore are © of Gene Roddenberry.
The heat was exhausted from Lore's body in a matter of moments as he rematerialized in silent, icy space. It took him a few seconds to discern what had happened but once he acknowledged his surroundings, anger shrouded him even more forcefully than it had before. His dear brother, how he hated him. He swore that if he ever found him again, Lore would make him suffer for his betrayal. But his anger was soon replaced with panic at the recognition of his situation. His systems would not support him in the cold environment for very much longer. He begged and pleaded with some unknown deity that someone, anyone, would find him once again. He gazed at the distant sun, which shined into his eyes with a blazing intensity. Lore's functions began to give out one at a time until his thoughts slowed to a trickle and his body went numb.
God, how he always hated standing in line at the Federation clearance offices. More often than not, this is where you would find the most optimistic colonists or scientists who only pretended to know anything about their subject of study. The saints of their trade, any denial was only further evidence of their virtue. Lore found it sickening. In fact, the only scientist he had ever really believed to be a genius, was his father.
Dr. Noonian Soong was a man of pure inspiration. It was an eerie, paradoxical thought… to build something, out of metal and scrap, something that was alive… and now Lore was here to ponder his ideas, proof that Dr. Soong's work was a success. It was borderline tragic. His mother and his father both believed him evil, bent on destroying anything good in the universe, simply out of jealousy and hatred…. They tried for him and now they were gone, perished in the Crystalline Entity's obliteration of the biological life on Omicron Theta and now Lore was left alone, save his emotionless brother.
Data meant next to nothing to him. How could Lore care for him? He despised him. Data left him in the void of space to drift until the universe collapsed in on itself. It was not until about a year ago he had reawakened to find himself lying on a table in a spartan medical bay.
"He is very complex." Lore opened his eyes and sat up, hastily observed his surroundings.
"He is awake!" The shock was evident on the faces of the aliens surrounding him. They stepped back apprehensively. "What is your name?"
He did not answer immediately, still suspicious of his surroundings. "…Lore."
"He is smart." The one whom had spoken first commented on Lore's manner. He snapped at them, his confusion beginning to frustrate him.
"Who are you? And what species are you?"
"We are Pakled. My name is Gommal. We found you out there…" He pointed to a window in the medical bay.
"What is the current star date?" Lore rubbed his head a little, stepping off the medical table. "Nevermind…" 43789.8 His internal clock kicked in and gave him an estimate of how long he had been in space. Two years… Rage enveloped him and he had to fight not to show it.
"You! You are smart. We need your help." Gommal spoke to him with the idiot use of the English language. It irritated Lore to no end.
"Of course." He smiled greasily.
"Next, please." Lore glared at the graying man in attendance of the station from behind the protective force field. Watch yourself, he nearly growled. He really was not in the mood to shoot up any Starfleet clearance offices so close to a major Federation colony. Maybe on a better day but today he was not feeling so enthusiastic about the idea. The Pakled ship proved to be exceptionally easy to conquer and he claimed it as his own after a few modifications.
As he exited the building, a young man with dark hair and a soft expression collided with his shoulder. Lore instinctively reached out to steady the boy before he could lose his balance and fall. His reaction confused him. Why should Lore care if the child fell and hurt himself? Just for a moment, the young man reminded him of Wesley Crusher: young, perceptive… idiotic. The boy turned and smiled, muttering a small 'thank you'. Ignoring him, Lore stalked off on his way.
That evening, he found himself in a nightclub with excessively loud music and girls wearing clothing of scant proportions. The music occupied him, its volume numbing his mind and his body to the point where, at times, he could not recognize himself. He shook his head and remembered the reason he had wandered down into to these slums in the first place. He needed to find someone he could buy dilithium crystals from, without being put on the Federation's radar.
The Federation had recently been enforcing their policies regarding illegal dilithium markets with a new vengeance; finding anyone who was willing to deal in these matters could prove to be difficult. "There's a man named Jon Black who might be able to help you." Lore turned his head towards the younger man sitting at the table next to him who had whispered in a scratchy undertone. He had pleated ears and a nasty looking tattoo that ran down his face. "I used to deal with him."
"Where?" Lore tried to keep his questions short and simple, to avoid suspicion.
"Olympus City. Here on Veda II, you see? He runs Bakers."
"It's a club. Or... an organization... Whatever you will call it." He sipped his drink, absentmindedly.
"What's your name?" The man laughed at Lore's words but then began coughing into his sleeve. Still laughing, he finished his drink and left Lore sitting by himself.