From: cynth@netcom.com (Cynthia Bell)

This is a repost of something I wrote about a year ago:

                      The Worst of Both Worlds
                           by Cindy Bell

        As Captain Picard and Counselor Troi stood in Transporter Room 3 that 
day, neither was in a very good mood, and the sight of Riker's amused smile 
and Data's puzzled expression only made things worse.  "Could you please 
explain to me, Number One, why Starfleet has once again ordered us to 
provide shuttle service for Ambassador Troi?," asked Picard, wearily 
tugging at the collar of his dress uniform.
        "Yes, Will," agreed Deanna, "In Mother's last subspace transmission 
she told me that she had finally acquired her own ship and that Mr. Homn 
was flying it for her.  I was hoping that her visits would become a little 
less ... spontaneous."
        "I am curious as well, Commander," added Data. 
        "Her spaceship was stolen while she was vacationing on Risa, and she 
needs us to get her to a conference on Turabian V.  Besides, sir," Riker 
couldn't resist adding, "you look so dashing in your dress uniform.  I'm 
sure Mrs. Troi will appreciate it." 
        "Oh, shut up, Number One!," snapped Picard irritably, and, continuing 
his outburst, added, "and Mr. Data, there's cat fur all over your uniform!"
        "I apologize, sir, but Spot appeared to need a hug."
        The captain glared at him for a moment, but suddenly found himself 
unable to keep shouting at his second officer. Damn him, thought Picard.  
He's giving me that look again.  If I didn't know better, I'd say he was 
hurt.  "Mr. Data," he finally said, more calmly, "your concern for your pet 
is very admirable and very human, but I would appreciate it if you didn't 
appear before Federation diplomats looking like a walking gold rug."
        "Yes sir, and thank you.  I believe having a cat has taught me more 
about what it is to be human." 
        He's doing it again. The moment I said "very human," his face seemed 
to brighten up. 
        At this moment, the ensign at the transporter controls said "Signals 
locked onto, Captain."
        "Energize, Ensign."
        As Mrs. Troi, her infamous luggage, and Mr. Homn, her very tall, very 
silent servant materialized, the ambassador greeted them in her usual 
manner.  "Jean-Luc!," she exclaimed, "I've barely arrived here and already 
the naughty thoughts begin!  It's a wonder you can concentrate on running 
your starship!  And Little One," she said, embracing Deanna, "I'm so glad 
to see you brought that nice Commander Riker with you.  Are you two ever 
going to give me some grandchildren?"
        As Riker smiled graciously and Troi and Picard turned several shades 
of scarlet, Mrs. Troi then did something no one expected of her.  She 
walked up to Data, and, without a word, slapped him very soundly across the 
face.  Data felt no pain, of course, but was clearly in some kind of 
android shock.  He stood open-mouthed for several seconds, rapidly 
accessing his files on Betazoid greeting rituals for some explanation for 
her behavior.  Finding none, he finally said, "Inquiry?  Why did you just 
strike my face with such force?"
        "Yes Ambassador," demanded Picard, "why did you slap my second 
officer?"
        "What the hell?!," exclaimed Riker.
        "MOTHER!," added a mortified Deanna, wishing she could just beam of 
out there.
        "Because he's so incredibly rude and obnoxious," said Mrs. Troi, as if 
this should be obvious to all.
        "I know you find his after-dinner anecdotes less than fascinating," 
protested Picard, "but I simply can't imagine Mr. Data being intentionally 
rude or obnoxious to anyone."  Not even you.
        "He was," countered Mrs. Troi.  "He took forever to take our orders, 
wouldn't bring our food for ages, and then when it finally came he served 
it with the most appalling manners!  He's the most insolent waiter I've 
ever dealt with."
        "Waiter?," asked Troi, Riker, and Picard in unison, while the ensign 
at the transporter controls tried not to laugh.
        "Correction, Ambassador," said Data.  "I have prepared beverages in 
Ten-Forward on several occasions when Guinan was busy, and once I 
temporarily lost my memory and thought I was the permanent bartender, but I 
have never served anyone a meal there."
        "Don't play dumb with me, you rude robot.  It was on Risa, three Earth 
weeks ago.  Some friends and I were dining at the Wormhole Cafe.  You were 
obviously moonlighting as a waiter, and you were too busy picking up some 
blonde at the bar to serve us properly.  Doesn't Starfleet pay you enough?"
        It was all too funny for Riker.  "Data, you old devil!" he said, 
clapping his friend on the back, "The things we don't know about you!  I'm 
impressed.  And all this time we thought you spent your spare time 
painting, acting, and trying to figure out which foods Spot would like."
        "But it is not possible that I was your waiter, Ambassador," said 
Data.  "I have not left the Enterprise for forty-three days, two hours, 
eighteen minutes, and twelve seconds."
        "All right, then who was it?," demanded Mrs. Troi, "and don't try to 
tell me it was your evil twin or something."
        "Correction, Ambassador.  'Evil identical older brother' would be the 
more accurate term, but he is the most probable explanation for your dining 
experience."
        Suddenly the whole scene became markedly less humorous.  Picard, 
Riker, and Troi looked at each other in horror and simultaneously 
exclaimed, "Lore!"
        "Who?," inquired Mrs. Troi.
        "Lore is the first android build by my creator, Dr. Noonian Soong," 
explained Data.  "He and I are identical in appearance, but we do not have 
similar personalities.  His presence on Risa would make the most sense in 
the context of your accusations."
        "Mr. Data has a gift for understatement," said Picard grimly.  "Lore 
is unstable, violent, highly emotional, and completely deranged.  He is 
capable of much more than mere rudeness in restaurants.  We have to find 
him, and find him quickly.  Now, is he still on Risa, Ambassador?"
        "I don't know.  He left with that blonde he'd been talking to.  They 
said something about 'leaving this miserable dump of a resort planet.'"
        "Then he could be anywhere," sighed Picard.  "What do you remember 
about his girlfriend?  She might be the key to tracking him down.  What 
race was she?  What was she thinking?"
        "I don't remember, and I certainly don't eavesdrop on 
everyone'sÊthoughts.  She was just some blonde woman."
        "There are approximately three million, five thousand, seven-hundred 
and thirty-eight blonde humanoid females in that sector of the galaxy.  
Shall I attempt to find out if any of them have met Lore, sir?," asked 
Data.
        "That would take too much time, Mr. Data." said Picard.  "Ambassador, 
don't you remember anything about her?"
        "Oh yes, one minor detail.  I do remember reading her thoughts as they 
were leaving ... something about disliking the Enterprise."
        "Well, thank you very much for remembering that 'minor detail,' 
Lwaxana," retorted Picard.  "Now we have it narrowed down to just blondes 
who don't like the Enterprise and consequently might even be as dangerous 
as Lore.  Where do you suggest we start looking?"
        "There are approximately two-hundred fifty-six blonde females on Risa 
with a grievance against Commander Riker, sir," volunteered Data, 
"including twelve paternity suits, and ..."
        "Thank you, Data!" interrupted Riker.
        At that moment, Picard's combadge beeped.  "Emergency on the Bridge, 
Captain," said Worf's unmistakably deep voice, "unknown ship decloaking 
directly in front of us."
        "Red alert.  On our way, Lieutenant," said the captain.  Then he 
addressed the group: "It looks as if Lore might already have found us."
        "Wait!," shouted Mrs. Troi as everyone rushed toward the turbolift.  
"What about my luggage?"  Picard had to bite his lip to avoid telling her 
exactly what she could do with her luggage.
        They all got in the turbolift and sped to the Bridge, where Worf 
provided more details.  "Sir, the uncloaking ship appears to be a Romulan 
war bird, but it is ... pink."
        "That's my ship!  He stole it!," exclaimed Mrs. Troi.
        "Mother!," said Deanna, "you bought a RomulanÊwarship?!"
        "Oh calm down, Little One, it's an ex-Romulan warship that the Ferengi 
sold me when I threatened to sue them for kidnapping us a few years back.  
Most of the weapons are disabled now.  It was a lot faster than we needed 
and rather difficult for Mr. Homn to fly with no crew, but we got a 
terrific deal on it.  Also, green seemed like such a dreary color and I 
didn't want anyone shooting at us, so I had it painted pink.  Don't you 
think it looks nice now?"
        "I can't believe this," sighed Deanna.Ê
        "Shields up," said Picard.
        "Shields inoperable," growled Worf.  "They are hailing us, sir,"
        "On screen."
        "Hello, Little Brother, so we meet again," smirked the image on the 
viewscreen.  It was Lore all right.  He was wearing black trousers, a 
white, twentieth-century style button-down shirt, and a black bow tie, as 
he lounged indolently in the ship's captain's chair.  Several Pakleds were 
milling about in the background.
        "So, it's you again, Lore," said Mrs. Troi, "or should I say 
'Alphonso?'"  The others once again glanced at each other in disbelief, but 
sure enough, the name tag on Lore's shirt pocket clearly read "Wormhole 
Cafe, Alphonso - May I help you?"
        "'Alphonso,' Lore?," asked Riker.
        "Have youÊever met a waiter named Lore, stupid?"
        "Well, no, but ..."
        "'Alphonso' is the more rational choice of name for a waiter, 
Commander," observed Data, who had taken his place at ops.
        "Little Brother is right, for once.  And by the way, Riker, you 
wouldn't look so smug if you knew some of the stories I've heard about you 
on Risa."
        "You shouldn't have stolen my starship, you insolent bucket of bolts," 
scolded Mrs. Troi.
        "Then you shouldn't have left the keys in it,  you silly old bat.  And 
where's my tip, anyway?"
        "If you think I was going to leave you a tip after you repeatedly 
ignored us and then spent the evening saying the most lecherous things to 
that blonde while you were supposed to be getting our food ..."
        "Hey, I brought your food ..."
        "You dumped it in our laps!  And what's more, I did notÊorder Klingon 
gagh!"
        "Picky, picky, lady!  Now, where was I?  Oh yes, we meet again, Little 
Brother, and this time I'm finally going to put an end to your getting all 
the attention while I get dismantled or beamed into space.  As you've no 
doubt already observed, Lore the Brilliant has figured out a way to send a 
disrupter beam that completely disables your shields, and I wouldn't try 
warping out of here, either, because this baby is every bit as fast as your 
precious Enterprise."
        "And sensors indicate they are well-armed," muttered Worf grumpily.
        Picard signaled Worf to cut the transmission and tapped his combadge.  
"Bridge to Engineering, are you following all this?"
        "Yes, Captain," said Geordi "I wouldn't miss a word of it."
        "Can you stop his disrupter beam?"
        "Well sir, to do that I'd have to realign the proton thrusters to the 
cuisinart beam and bevel the tachion particles in the subspace coaxial 
toaster to the torque truncheons in the RAM cache, and then I'd have to 
subvert the subspace woofers into the macro scanner ..."
        "Yes, yes.  But can you do it, Mr. La Forge?"
        "I can do it, Captain, but it will take a few hours."
        "You have twenty minutes.  Make it so.  And Mr. La Forge, would you 
come work up on the bridge?  We might need your presence here."
        "On my way, sir.  Transferring engineering to bridge."
        "Analysis, Counselor, Ambassador?"
        "Well, I can't read the rude robot at all," said Mrs. Troi, "and those 
Pakled people are just thinking about things that make them go, but there's 
another presence on the ship who's thinking about blasting you and the 
Enterprise to kingdom come, Jean-Luc."
        "Correction, Ambassador," said Data.  "Lore is not a robot.  He is a 
sentient android like myself."
        "Robot, schmobot, who cares?  He took my ship."
        "I agree with Mother," said Deanna.  "There's definitely a hostile 
presence other than Lore on the ship, and it's very intense."
        "That must be his girlfriend.  I can't wait to meet her," said Riker 
sarcastically.
        The resolute way Picard then straightened his uniform top indicated 
that he had decided on a course of action.  "We need time if Mr. La Forge 
is going to get our shields back before we're attacked, and the way to buy 
that time is to keep Lore talking.  Let's all try to engage his attention 
for as long as possible.  It shouldn't be too difficult - I have a feeling 
he enjoys having an audience."
        Geordi and an assistant then emerged from the turbolift and began 
trying to get the shields back.  "Shall I assist Commander La Forge and 
Ensign Gomez, Captain?," asked Data.
        "No, Mr. Data, you stay at ops.  I want Lore to have the best possible 
view of you for this.
        "Do we have to listen to all his inane insults, sir?, asked Riker, who 
already felt like slugging Lore.
        "We do, Number One, but feel free to insult him back."
        "Shall I devise a special program of insults, sir?," asked Data.  "I 
am programmed in the innuendoes, indignities, slights, slurs, snubs, 
affronts, and general impertinence of approximately one-thousand, seven 
hundred and fifty-four alien cultures."         
        "No, Mr. Data," replied Picard, wondering, not for the first time, 
just what had been going on in the late Dr. Soong's mind when he was 
designing his androids.  "Just be yourself.  On screen, Mr. Worf."
        "So, you're back at last," said Lore, who appeared impatient.
        "Stop pacing, Lore," said Riker.  "You're making everyone dizzy."
        Lore ignored him and continued.  "No doubt you've been having one of 
your interminable conferences about what to do with me.  It doesn't matter 
what you try - we're going to destroy you.  Actually, we may not destroy 
you if we don't feel like it.  I've been in a great mood lately, and do you 
know why?"
        "It is not possible for us to know that, Lore," reasoned Data, "as you 
have not told us yet."
        Lore shot Data an exasperated glare.  "Then I'll tell you why.  I'm in 
love, Little Brother.  I've found the greatest girl in the whole universe.  
The birds are singing.  The stars shine more brightly."  Lore's face 
assumed a dreamy, far-off expression which could only be described as 
lovesick.
        "Hmph.  How could your mood influence astronomic conditions and the 
behavior of wildlife, Lore?," wondered Data.
        Lore ignored the question and continued.  "You'll meet her soon.  In 
fact, you've met her already, and she's looking forward to seeing you all 
again ... one last time!  She's in our quarters right now fixing her hair 
and hatching evil plots.  She likes to do that for about an hour every day 
- she says it helps her to get more in touch with her anger."
        "She sounds just charming, Lore," smiled Riker.  "We're so happy for 
you.  We're all curious, though - how did you meet, and what were you doing 
waiting tables on Risa?"
        Lore seemed more than eager to tell his story.  "After I had claimed 
Little Brother's chip as rightfully mine I used this handy thumb 
transporter to beam back to the Pakled ship.  You really should get one 
installed, Little Brother, they're very useful.  Anyway, the Pakleds 
recognized me as their natural leader.  With my brains, and our mutual lack 
of ethics, we 'found' a lot of interesting stuff out there, but they drove 
me bananas.  Do you people have any idea what it's like to work with 
Pakleds?"
        "Yes," said Geordi ruefully.
        At this, the Pakleds finally began to notice what was happening on 
their own viewscreen.   "It is our friend Geordi," they said happily.  "He 
is smart.  He could help us go."
        "Yeah, right into a supernova," muttered Geordi.
        "Awww," said Lore.  "Isn't that sweet?  The Pakleds miss you, 
Bananahead."
        "Terrific," said Geordi.  "Tell them I already have a job."
        "But Lore," said Riker, "when our sensors detected a ship heading for 
Soong's planet, we didn't detect any life forms aboard your craft."
        "That's because I was in a shuttlecraft when his stupid homing device 
went off.  I took it for a few hours so I could have a break from these 
morons." 
        "We were looking for things," said the Pakleds.  "We were far from 
home.  We found Lore.  He is smart too.  Lore found a new ship.  It is 
fast.  But we are bored here.  We want to go look for more things."
        "We look for things, we look for things," mimicked Lore in that high, 
whiny voice he liked to use when imitating people. "Don't you fools realize 
I'm busy here?  We can go look for things after we destroy the Enterprise, 
and if you're good you can even have some of the scraps as souvenirs."  He 
then turned his attention back to the viewscreen.  "Then, after about a 
year of our 'creative salvage' operations we crash-landed on Risa - it 
seems that these idiots weren't keeping an eye on the engine room, and we 
somehow managed to run out of dilithium."
        "A good captain should be more aware of what is happening on his ship, 
Lore," said Data.
        "Thanks, Little Brother, but the last thing I want right now is a 
personnel management lesson from the Intergalactic Boy Scout.  Anyway, we 
were stuck on Risa, so we went our separate ways.  The Pakleds became 
postal workers, and I got that job waiting tables at the Wormhole Cafe and 
doing the early lounge act in the Black Hole bar.
        "Lounge act, Lore?," asked Deanna.  "I never knew you were musical."
        "Sure, Counselor Chest.  I play kazoo, bagpipes, and the accordion, 
among other things."
        "Those are all instruments which humans can sometimes find somewhat 
irritating," observed Data, remembering his own rather brief stint as 
accordionist in Ten-Forward.
        "You got it, Little Brother," grinned Lore.
        "He was just awful, too," said Mrs. Troi.  "You have a nice voice, 
'Alphonso,' but your choice of material was dreadful, and as for your banjo 
playing ..."
        "Listen, Mrs. Music Critic, just because you don't have the good taste 
to appreciate hearing 'Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer,' a selection of the 
galaxy's great polkas, and the complete works of  my favorite country 
artist, L.Q. Sonny Clemonds ..."
        "I have met Mr. Clemonds," said Data.  "I found him difficult to 
understand, even for a human." 
        "You have!?  Could you get me his autograph?," gushed a starstruck 
Lore.  He looked somewhat embarrassed for a moment and then quickly 
regained his composure.  "To get back to my story, the lounge act was fun, 
but being a waiter was hell.  Do you know what I suffered, Little Brother, 
scrounging for tips while you were third in command of the Federation 
flagship?  Do you know what it's like to have to fetch baby seats, reel off 
the specials, and repeatedly ask 'Is everything all right here?'  The only 
fun part was waiting until everyone's mouth was full to say it. 
        "And then she stormed into my life.  When I first saw her sitting at 
the bar, cursing the Federation and tossing drinks in the bartender's face, 
I knew that at last I had found the girl for me.  The next day we went to 
the post office to fetch the Pakleds, made off with the Betazoid Broad's 
ship, and then set out to find the Enterprise.  We 'found' a lot of useful 
things along the way, and, as Lt. Barf there has observed, we're now armed 
to the teeth and ready to blast you to bits."
        "Don't bet on it," growled Worf.
        "Hey Klingon," taunted Lore cheerfully, "How've you been?  Wanna go 
for another turbolift ride?  I'd be only too happy to beat the stuffing out 
of you again."
        "Grrrrrrrrr."
        "And who's the charming Bajoran?  I don't remember seeing you before," 
said Lore noticing Ensign Ro, who was sitting next to Data at the con.
        "This is Ensign Ro Laren, Lore," said Data.  "She was not stationed on 
the Enterprise the last time we met."
        "So, my little brother gets to sit next you all day.  No doubt the 
experience is completely wasted on him."
        "Who isÊthis jerk, Data?," asked Ro.
        "That is my brother Lore, Ensign."
        "You have a weird family, Data."
        "You should have met my father and grandfather."
        "I'm so sorry that you're stuck listening to his off-key whistling, 
bad jokes, and interminable observations,  Ro," continued Lore.  "If I 
wasn't already taken, I'd invite you to leave that garbage scow and come 
join me."
        "And what makes you think I'd say 'yes,' Cardassian Breath?"
        "You have worded your invitation to Ensign Ro incorrectly, Lore," said 
Data.  "Since you were speaking hypothetically, it would have been more 
proper to say 'if I wereÊnot already taken.'"
        "Oh great, a grammar lesson from someone who can't say 'can't.'"
        "It is not grammatically incorrect to be unable to use contractions, 
Lore."
        "Listen, I've had just about enough of your endless nit-picking.  As 
soon as my girlfriend gets here, and ... where is she, anyway?"  Lore 
tapped the combadge near his name tag.  "Dear!  Aren't you ready yet?  
Would you please get out here?"
        "I'll be right there, sweetheart," said an offscreen voice.  "My hair 
doesn't look right yet."
        "Never mind that.  I'm sure you look lovely.  Just get out here, okay?  
I want everyone to see you."
        "All right, all right.  I'm here my darling," said the voice, as a 
blonde woman with pointed ears walked into viewscreen range, sat down next 
to Lore, and put her arms around him.
        "Sela!," exclaimed the entire bridge, except for Data and Ro.
        "Swell." said Riker.  "Now we're dealing with both the Bad Seeds."
        "Who's the blonde Romulan, Data?," asked Ro, who hadn't thought there 
were any.
        "She is ...  Before Lt. Worf became security chief  ..."  Data 
hesitated again, unsure of where to start.  Finally he said, "It is what 
humans call a 'long story,' Ensign.  I will attempt to explain it to you 
later."
        Sela was her usual charming self.  "So, once again I confront my arch 
enemies on the Enterprise.  I will get my revenge on you yet, Picard."
        "It's always a pleasure to see you again too, Sela," said the captain.
        "This time I'm especially angry with you, Jean-Luc," she continued, 
"because after my brilliant plots to brainwash La Forge, ruin the Klingon-
UFP alliance, and take over Vulcan failed, I lost my rank as a commander in 
the Romulan fleet."
        "And how you ever got to be a commander at age 23 I'll never 
understand," said Riker.
        "Now you can find a job which requires more writing," observed Data.
        "Excuse me?"
        "During our last meeting, when you unsuccessfully attempted to force 
Ambassador Spock to give a speech you had written, you expressed regret 
that your own job did not give you a chance to do much writing.  I 
suggested that perhaps you could get another job, and now that career 
option is open to you."
        Everyone could almost see the steam coming out of Sela's ears.  As 
always, Data spoke without a trace of irony or sarcasm, which seemed to 
infuriate her all the more.  "Never mind my career plans," she retorted.  
"You ruined me, Picard, and now you're going to pay."
        "Sela," asked Riker, "has it ever dawned on you that maybe your plots 
don't work because, with the possible exception of the Ferengi and the 
Pakleds, you are easily the most inept opponent we've ever faced?"
        "Shut up!  If not for the Enterprise I'd be the supreme dictator of 
Vulcan by now.  Everything is your fault, Picard.  You sent my mother back 
in time to an almost certain death, and now you've wrecked my career."
        The turbolift doors opened, and a woman in civilian clothes and an 
interesting hat emerged.  "Sela," she said in a calm, wise, voice, "don't 
you realize that you wouldn't have been born at all if your mother hadn't 
gone back in time?"
        "Guinan!," said Picard, "what a surprise to see you on the bridge."
        "When I heard Sela had turned up I thought I'd better get here as soon 
as I could."
        "And you still think I should believe her story about her background?"
        "I know it sounds bizarre, but you'll just have to take my word for 
it, Jean Luc."
        Picard then addressed Sela.  "I'm still not sure if I believe you, but 
from what I understand your mother wanted to go back.  Indeed, she had to 
go back in order to correct the whole course of time."
        "You still killed her, Picard."
        "No, Sela," said Guinan, "youÊkilled her when you turned her in for 
trying to escape from Romulus with you."
        "My mother was a traitor to the Romulan cause.  My father gave her a 
home and family, and she thanked him by trying to leave."
        "Your mother was held prisoner and forced to be his mistress!," said 
Guinan.  How can you blame her for wanting to escape?"
        "I still hold her and Picard responsible for everything!  After he got 
me fired, I decided to take a vacation on Risa, where I could relax and 
think of some more things to blame him for.  I was drowning my sorrows at 
the Wormhole Cafe bar when Lore walked up and said, 'Hey baby, I'm fully 
functional.'  At first I thought he was Data."
        "Which explains why she broke that beer bottle over my head," said 
Lore.  "Actually, I thought she looked familiar too, sort of like your old 
security chief, only more ... Romulan.  When I'd finally convinced her that 
I wasn't Data she told me about her mother, and we discovered that we have 
so much in common - we both have, or in Sela's case had, relatives on the 
Enterprise who really get on our nerves.  
        "We talked for hours while that annoying Betazoid lady kept yelling 
for Lore to bring her party their meals," continued Sela.  "Then we went 
back to my hotel room, and  ... well, let's just say I finally understand 
what my mother saw in Data."
        "Spare us the sordid details, Sela," said Riker.  "Everyone just had 
lunch."
        "Isn't she wonderful?," sighed Lore.  "Petty, mean, spiteful, ill-
tempered, vindictive - the perfect girl for me."
        "You said it," quipped Geordi.
        "I want you all to be the first to know that Sela has agreed to marry 
me.  I'd invite you to the wedding, but you probably won't be alive for it.  
We'll just have to have the Pakleds as guests then, won't we, sweetie?"
        "That's fine with me, snuggle-bunny," said Sela, as they gazed 
adoringly into each other's eyes.
        "I think I'm going to be sick," announced Riker.
        "Do you need to be escorted to sick bay, Commander?," asked Data.
        "It's just an expression, Data," explained Geordi.
        Lore and Sela gazed at each other some more and then kissed.  "Now I 
know I'm going to be sick," said Riker.
        "Thank goodness they can't reproduce," said Dr. Crusher, who was once 
again hanging around on the bridge for no apparent reason.
        "That's where you're wrong, Doc.  Sela and I are going to build some 
kids - not boring, nice kids either, but awful, sneaky, rotten kids who 
will make us proud.  Speaking of sickeningly good kids, Doc, where's that 
manchild of yours?  I was especially looking forward to blowing him up."
        "If you mean Wesley, he's far away from you and your disrupter beam."
        "He finally got into Starfleet Academy, huh?  That's convenient, 
because Sela and I are headed in that direction anyway.  First we're going 
to be married by an Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas, and then we're going 
to San Francisco to blow Starfleet Academy off the map."  
        "Listen, mister, if you harm my son ..."
        "You look beautiful when you're angry, Doc, though you looked even 
more beautiful when your manchild discovered I'd switched places with the 
Twinkie and I had to phaser your arm  - the fire matched your lovely red 
hair."
        "Why are you referring to me as a twentieth century snack food, 
Lore?," asked Data.  "Although I am a similar shade of gold, I have neither 
a baked foam exterior nor a synthetic filling designed to mimic Earth dairy 
products.  Therefore, I must deduce that you have selected a consumer 
product known for its light weight and lack of nutritional value in order 
to imply that I am somehow personally lacking in substance. Interesting."
        "Interesting," sneered Lore.  "You see why I can't stand him?  He even 
takes all the fun out of calling him names."
        "Attaboy, Data," said Riker quietly, patting him on the shoulder.  
"We've got them right where we want them."
        "'Attaboy,' sir?," asked Data, with one of his trademark puzzled 
frowns.
        "It's an expression of encouragement, from all of us," explained 
Geordi.
        "Now, don't you worry about Data any more, my love," said Sela.  "Soon 
the entire Enterprise will be on fire.  How I have longed for this day of 
revenge!" 
        "You two make a perfect couple," said Guinan, "because you both 
completely refuse to take any responsibility for your actions."
        "Hey, I didn't askÊto be built, lady," said Lore.  "And I didn't ask 
to be ...
        "Such an obnoxious jerk?,"  suggested Dr. Crusher helpfully.
        "What do any of you know?  You expect me to be like your beloved Data, 
yet you have no idea what I've been through.  It's always been easy for 
Data.  He gets rescued by Starfleet, I get switched off.  He gets the 
interesting job, I get dismantled.  He gets the friends and attention, I 
get shoved in storage.  He gets the bridge during night watch, I get beamed 
into space for two long years.  He gets summoned back for repairs, I show 
up and get stared at like something the cat dragged in."
        "I do not believe any domestic feline would be capable of dragging an 
object of your weight, Lore," observed Data.  "My own cat Spot, for 
example, ..."
          "Oh great, more of Little Brother's relentless literal-mindedness.  
Why do you people like him so much, anyway?  Is it the violin playing, the 
bad jokes, that perpetually perplexed expression, the selflessness, the 
naivetŽ, that irritating little 'hmph' sound he makes, or because he's so 
damn nice?"
        "I think you just answered your own question, Lore," said Picard.
        Lore glared at the captain and went on.  "Who's ever cared about me?  
Who's ever given me a chance?  Not all of you, not Soong, and certainly not 
those stupid colonists.  They all hated me.  My only real friend was Steve, 
until you destroyed him."
        "Who the hell is Steve?," asked Riker.
        "The Crystalline Entity, of course.  It had a name, you know."
        "How touching," said Riker.
        "There is a possibility that you might acquire more friends if you 
modified your behavior, Lore," suggested Data.
        Lore's tone became even more sarcastic.  "And how do you folks suggest 
I do that?"
        "Well," said Dr. Crusher, "for a start you could stop frightening 
colonists, summoning entities, knocking out Data, threatening my son, 
igniting my arm, stealing chips, and flinging old men across science labs."
        "Enough of this chatter," said Sela, who was growing increasingly 
impatient.  "Let's destroy them now and get out of here, Lore.  I want to 
do some shopping on Sarona VII."
        "I'm sensing a lot of hostility here, Sela " said Counselor Troi, "and 
I think that you and Lore both need to get in touch with your feelings 
about why you want to destroy us.  You both have a lot of unresolved issues 
to work out, and ...."
        "Gee, thank you for sharing that with us, Counselor Chest," said Lore.  
"How much does Starfleet pay for your insights, anyway?"
        "I think our photon torpedoes need to get in touch with your main 
hull," added Sela.  She then turned to the Pakled at tactical.  "Prepare to 
fire." 
        "Shall I launch all weapons at them, sir?," growled Worf.
        "Not yet, Mr. Worf," said Picard.  "Mister La Forge, where are those 
shields?"
        "I'm workin' on it, Captain!  If I could just have a few more minutes 
..."
        "You don't have a few more minutes, La Forge," said Sela menacingly.
        "Your mother wouldn't have approved, Sela," chided Riker.  "Hell, even 
your aunt wouldn't approve, and she's certainly no paragon of ethics."
        "I have an aunt?"
        "Yes, on Turkana IV.  Why don't you go visit her right now?"
        "I don't think so Riker.  Lore darling, let's put a final end to the 
Enterprise and fire all weapons now."
        "No," said Lore softly.
        There were audible gasps on both ships, and even Data's jaw dropped in 
surprise.
        "What?," said Sela.
        "I don't feel like it."
        "You don't feel like it?"
        "No.  Can't we just insult them a little more and then go get 
married?"
        "Are you malfunctioning, Lore?  What happened to the angry android I 
met on Risa?  What happened to the guy who helped turn over four hundred 
colonists into Entity Chow?"
        "You're a Romulan, Sela, you hate half the galaxy.  But if we destroy 
the Enterprise now, I won't have anyone left to pick on."
        "But when we first met all you could talk about was finally getting 
rid of Data."
        "I know.  He is an annoying little nerd, but he's still  ..."  Lore 
paused, obviously finding the next words difficult.  "He's still the only 
family I have left."
        "Fire now!," said Sela to the Pakled at tactical.
        The Pakled did nothing.  "Lore says 'no.'  He is smart.  We obey 
Lore."
        "Then I'll just have to fire them myself," said Sela, heading for 
tactical, but Lore was too fast for her and blocked the way.  "Get out of 
my way, Lore!," she said urgently.  "We don't have much time before they 
get their shields back."  Lore didn't budge.
        "Shields up, sir!," announced Geordi triumphantly.
        "Damn!," said Sela.  She turned to Lore in a fury.  "Nice going, you 
idiot!  There's no way we can attack them now without risking our own 
destruction!  I thought you were as evil and vengeful as they come, but now 
I see that you're just a wimp.  I should have realized it when you were 
telling me about yourself on Risa.  You've had all those opportunities to 
finally dispose of Data, but all you've ever done is knock him out, switch 
him off, or steal his chip.  You're pathetic, Lore, and I never want to see 
you again."
        "Sela wait," pleaded Lore in increasingly whiny tones.  "I can be 
mean.  I can be rotten.  What about my summoning the Entity?  What about my 
beating up Soong?  What about my dumping Klingon gagh in everyone's laps?  
Think of what we've meant to each other.  I love you, Sela.  Don't go."
        "Lore, you fool.  Do you honestly think I would have agreed to marry 
you if you hadn't been able to help me hunt down the Enterprise?  Don't you 
realize that I was using you?"  
        "Using me?"  Lore's bewildered expression was worthy of Data.
        "Don't get me wrong, though.  I wasn't always lying.  It's been fun."  
She grinned. "Lots of fun sometimes, and I was somewhat fond of you."
        "Gee thanks, that makes me feel so much better," said Lore.
        "I'll just take one of the shuttlecrafts and go back to Romulus now.  
Oh, and Lore, I'm kind of embarrassed to have dated a wimp like you, so 
forget we ever knew each other, okay?"  And with that, she was off to the 
shuttle bay.
        Lore sat quietly for a few moments, utterly stunned by what had just 
happened.  "Sela!," he shouted, as he watched her shuttle clear the pink 
starship,  "Wait!  Come back here!  You can forget that stuff about my 
forgetting you, you know!  I'm not Data - you can't just order me to forget 
something!  Hey, I'm talking to you!"
        "It is highly unlikely that Sela has a channel open to hear you, 
Lore," observed Data.
        It suddenly dawned on Lore that he still had a channel open to the 
Enterprise and had been broadcasting everything.  "I don't know what's 
worse," he said miserably, as he switched his own viewscreen back to the 
Enterprise bridge, "getting dumped by Sela, or having it happen in full 
view of all of you morons."
        "I think someone needs a hug," said Counselor Troi.
        "And I think someone needs to stop being so barfy," said Lore.  "Hell, 
I never liked that stupid Romulan hairstyle of hers anyway," he declared, 
without much conviction.  He then addressed Data.  "Now you can see what 
it's like to have both a perfect memory and full human emotions, Little 
Brother.  I'm going to remember every moment of this whole rotten scene 
vividly for as long as I exist.  I just can't believe she'd betray me like 
that..."
        "I cannot truly empathize, Lore," said Data, "but your current 
circumstances are not entirely unfamiliar to me."
        "What's he talking about now?," asked Lore.
        "I think what Data's trying to tell you," said Riker, "is that you're 
not the first Soong to be betrayed by a Yar."
        For once Lore had no snappy comeback.  "Oh.  I'm, er,  sorry to hear 
that, Data."
        "There is no need to offer sympathy, but I appreciate the thought, 
Lore."
        Worf, meanwhile, was growing impatient.  "Can we fire on him now, 
sir?"
        "No, Mr. Worf," said Picard, ignoring the Klingon's growled mutterings 
and turning his attention back to the viewscreen.  "You know, you probably 
saved all our lives just now, Lore."
        "Don't remind me."
        "This goes against all of my better judgment," continued the captain, 
as Worf and Riker looked increasingly alarmed, "but I am prepared to invite 
you aboard the Enterprise, provided you agree to return Data's emotions 
chip and to undergo psychiatric treatment to help you deal with some of 
your more, er, antisocial personality traits."  Now it was Deanna's turn to 
look alarmed, as she considered the prospect of having Lore for a patient.
        "You can return my ship, too!" shouted Mrs. Troi.
        "No thanks," said Lore.  "I might be deranged, but I'm not stupid.  If 
you think I'm going to beam aboard and let Engineer Bananahead and 
Counselor Chest mess around with my head, you're even crazier than I am.  
Besides, the chip is like Worf's brain - it doesn't work.  I might as well 
have swallowed a cufflink for all the difference it's made.  Oh, I thought 
it was doing something at first, but that turned out to be just one of the 
usual twinges I get because I'm crammed full of Soong's junkyard parts.  
Anyway, someone has to keep the Pakleds in line."
        "So, where will you go now Lore?," asked Dr. Crusher.
        "Actually, someone made me a job offer just before I met Sela.  It's 
in a bar in some godforsaken place on the edge of nowhere, but I'd get to 
do my lounge act there and I wouldn't have to wait any tables.  I think I 
just might accept that job - there's even a post office for the Pakleds to 
work at."
        "Good luck, Lore," said Data.
        "Good-bye, Little Brother."   Lore suddenly realized how he was 
sounding.  "Hey, I don't want you all to think I actually like you or 
anything.  You and the Pakleds might be the closest things I have to 
friends now," he admitted, "but I still think you're all a bunch of morons 
and that Data is the biggest nerd in the galaxy."
        "We think you're just swell, too, Lore," said Riker.
        Lore smiled at Ensign Ro.  "My offer still stands."
        "Maybe some other time," she smiled back, and with that Lore closed 
the channel and warped out of sight.
        Ro suddenly realized that Riker and Picard were glaring at her.  "I 
was just being polite," she explained, somewhat feebly.
        "What about my ship?," demanded Mrs. Troi.  "You let that rude robot 
run off with my ship!"
        "Lwaxana," explained Picard patiently, "we probably couldn't have 
gotten that ship back from Lore without destroying it."  Suddenly he had an 
idea.  "I'll tell you what, though.  You can have one of our shuttles.  
It's a much more manageable size for you and Mr. Homn anyway."
        "Sir," whispered Riker urgently, "we've already lost all those 
shuttles in explosions this year, not to mention the one we gave to Scotty.  
What will Starfleet command say?"  Picard gave Riker a look that indicated 
he would have given away his captain's yacht if it meant getting rid of 
Mrs. Troi sooner.
        "Thank you for such a generous gift, Jean Luc," said Mrs. Troi 
graciously.  "You're a true gentleman, though you must learn to control 
those naughty thoughts."  Deanna signed and stared at the ceiling.
        "And Mr. Data," said Picard, "well done.  My own older brother isn't 
easy to get along with either."
        Later that day, Geordi went to see Data in his quarters.  "Come in," 
said Data, who was looking at a computer screen while Spot sat on his lap 
purring.
        "Hi Data, hi Spot.  Listen, if you're busy I can come back later."
        "No, Geordi.  I am just analyzing the molecular structure of various 
feline supplements."
        "I wanted to check to see how you were doing."
        "Why?"
        "Well, it's not every day that we run into your deranged older brother 
and the revenge-crazed Romulan daughter of a late friend.  Are you all 
right?"
        "Lore's disrupter beam had no effect on me, Geordi.  Self-diagnostics 
reveal that I am functioning within normal parameters."
        "That's not what I meant, Data.  How do you feel?"
        "I have no feelings.  None.  Zero.  Zip.  Nada.  Zilch.  None 
whatsoever of any kind.  No feelings, no way, no how.  Absolutely none ... 

Geordi, why are you pretending to repeatedly bash your head against the 
wall?"
        Geordi took a deep breath.  In some ways this was a conversation he 
had been dreading for years.  "Data, I think we need to talk."
        "Is Counselor Troi going to have me watch The Wizard of OzÊagain?"  
Geordi remembered how certain Troi had been that Data would gain self-
insight from the film.  He seemed to find it intriguing, but, when asked at 
the end whether he had seen any resemblance between himself and the Tin 
Man, he observed only that they were both artificial life forms with 
metallic exteriors.
        "No, Data, but think about that emotions chip Lore stole from you.  He 
said that it's useless, that it doesn't do anything."
        "That chip was designed to work in me, not Lore."
        "Maybe it's not supposed to work in anyone.  Maybe Soong just told you 
the chip contained emotions so it would have the placebo effect of 
enhancing the emotions which you might already have.  Data, you've grown 
and changed a lot since I've met you, and none of us find you completely 
emotionless.   Maybe there's more going on inside you than you think."
        "I might underestimate myself, but you might also be 
anthropomorphizing me.  We will never know the chip's real purpose unless 
it is installed in my head.  Until then, all is mere speculation."
        "I guess so," agreed Geordi reluctantly.
        Data saw that his friend seemed disheartened.  "The chip does not 
matter, Geordi.  What is important is that I continue to seek my own 
humanity and that I have friends like you."
        "Wanna go to the holodeck and play Holmes and Watson, then?"
        Data gave one of his near-nonexistent smiles.  "Of course.  You are 
not just another biological organism to me."
        "Data, you old sentimentalist," laughed Geordi.
        Meanwhile, in another part of space, Lore finally stopped staring 
despondently through the viewscreen and decided to try to forget Sela as 
best he could.  "Set a course for the Bajoran border," he said to the 
Pakled at the con., "and send out a subspace transmission telling Quark 
that I accept his job offer ..."

                                                THE END?


-- 
Cindy Bell        "No one will be seated during famous Fish Argument."
cynth@netcom.com          - Tom Servo, _Gamera vs. Zigra_



