. . . Assigned quarters.  . .

"Loki, where the hell were you?" Steve asked.

I shrugged.

"I do not know," I said. "But throwing the word 'hell' a lot is very aggravating, if I had Heimdall around I would toss you into the Bifrost and hope you be sent to helheim."

Steve glared a imaginary hole right at my forehead.

"Where were you?"

"At a trial," I said. "Apple cider, cool."

You can do a million things with apple cider.  I once met a mortal who was obsessed over apple cider  that they collected collectibles, centered their entire day over it, and sneaked into a apple cider factory. Of course on that day I was posing as a inspector  to pester the manager who argued with me regarding the continued existence of Diplodocid in the other side of Midgard.  I was the one right.  They digested gizzard stones to help them float in the water.

I could create apple cider but it wouldn't be as real.

". . . Trial?" Steve said.

I shrugged.

In a swirl of blue lights appeared a cup containing apple cider.

I picked the cup up, which felt cool to my fingertips, then took a sip.

It felt surprisingly good as the first one I had as a teenager.

"It was just one minute," I said. "They have a terrible sense of time. I guess they were different Q. Now. . ." I lowered the cup raising  a brow. "I may or may not have the lives of everyone from our universe in my hands."

My skin was still blue, take note of that.

And I took a drink of the apple cider.

"You are joking." Steve said.

"Dead serious," I said, lowering the cup once gulping down what I had drinked. "How do I prove that my universe is worth saving when everything backfires on me?" I put the cup down on the table. "I am not even fully accepting my heritage. I make a terrible hero!"

Steve stood there, thinking, as though choosing his next words wisely.

"I didn't think of myself as a hero in the beginning." Steve said.

"That's because you were given drugs!" I said. "There's a difference between being destined to be the hero and not even being destined to be hero! Have you heard of Ragnarok?"

"No, not exactly." Steve said.

"Before I was born, I was destined to be the one who ends the current reign of Norse gods and restart the cycle," I said. "I tried before, believe me, to be the one who did some good. Though. .  . Halfway through I made a name for myself as a liar and trickster." I sat down into the chair feeling my shoulder's heavy. "You don't know your fate and for that I envy you."

"Well, I am a a human so that means I can die," Steve said. "I am likely to go down as a old man in his ninety's."

I went through my hair with a heavy sigh.

"I know how I die,Steve Rogers," I said, looking up toward the young mortal man. "And it isn't pretty."

"How do you die?" Steve asked sitting down beside me on the couch.

I briefly closed my eyes cupping the side of my face.

"A ticked off Frost Giant." I lied.

Steve frowned.

"That doesn't sound like you'll die that way," Steve said. "I believe you would die in a battlefield."

I lowered my hand off the side of my face keeping back a laugh.

"With a Asgardian weapon," I said. "I swear Jotuns break apart like glass when stabbed in the chest by long swords."

I could see a pained look in the moral's eye.

What was that?

It is part of 'caring' I have learned over my long rich life.

"So. . . you don't die like we do." Steve said, in a low voice.

I nodded.

"You think when I die, all that would be left would be a shell," I said. "Wrong." I held my thumb upside down.  "Jotuns have a totally different composition to Asgardians. Even though I had lived on Asgard all my life and been raised and been under a powerful 'concealment' spell that recently wore off: there would be nothing left of me to bury. Even if there were a possibility of being buried that would require a powerful spell to make such a fake burial vessel. Replacing atoms and molecules typically found in unique individuals are hard to replicate."

Steve appeared to be impressed.

"Loki. . ."

"Yes?"

"I believe you have just done some technobabble."

I had a smug grin.

"Science is part of magic on my realm." I said.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I stood up quickly walking away from Steve.

"Come in!" Steve said.

And in walked that terrifying Worf with a . . . what seemed to be a young woman in what seemed to be a dark suit, she had scars along her face, two eyes being two different colors, and what seemed to be metal along her cheeks. I stopped, recognizing that familiar face. I had seen her in a crowd one time as a teenager when Thor was bragging about his latest exploits to a group of women. I recalled deciding whether or not to approach her. Even then I did not approach her but instead joined in the story telling correcting Thor on some parts.

"Loki?" The woman choked.

One eye was blue and the other was green.

"This is twenty-three of thirty-six," Worf said. "Former member of the Borg,we found her yesterday."

She had shoulder length rich dark brown hair, black eyebrows (with one scar in the middle of her left eyebrow that made it seem she had three not two), and I noticed her right hand was seemingly obviously prosthetic due to the colors.

And then she hugged me.

It was like being hugged by a complete stranger.

I managed to squirm out of her grip backing off.

"Loki, it's me."  The woman said.

"I don't know you." I said, now noticing Steve wasn't in the room.

I also noticed Worf had left too.

"I remember your face. . . Before . . . Before the Borg."

"What is your name?"

"Thirty-three."

I felt rage.

"That is NOT YOUR NAME!" I said. "That is a meaningless number." I saw tears grow at the edges of her eyes. "What are the Borg? I have been requesting knowledge about them and everyone refuses to tell me." My fingers curled up into a fist. "I do not enjoy not knowing!"

"The Borg assimilated us after Asgard fell." The woman said.

I step forward.

"Repeat that." I requested.

She stared at me blankly.

"The Borg assimilated  us after Asgard fell."

"The last two words."

"Asgard has fallen."

She wasn't lying.

"Your name, please."

"My name does not fit me anymore."'

"YOUR NAME DEFINES WHO YOU ARE. Your number just defines you as a unit. Not a person. But a machine! You know your name now tell me!"

"Knight Tackdottir."

"Knight, you act like a machine and speak as one. Why?"

"Because I am a machine."

I grabbed the woman by the shoulders.

"You are a Asgardian and you better start acting that way," I said. "You do not lack skin, nerves, brain, intelligence, powers, hand, legs, and everything else that defines you as a one who resembles a mortal being! You are of Asgardian blood."

"I am not connected to the hive." Knight said.

"You are connected to my hive," I said. "We speak to each other instead of . . . computer related communication. . . You are free to think on your own."

"It is very lonely not hearing the voices of everyone in my head," Knight said. "Namely you."

I let go of her shoulders.

"I am not a machine." I said.

"But. . . I saw you last as one." Knight said, confused.

I went right past Knight then out of the quarters to speak with Picard regarding what is going on.

This is a terrible trick.