Rated PG-13 
E-mail:  astarte@uia.net 
Pairing:  Picard/Q 
Warning:  Some violence.  Some angst. 
Disclaimer:  The principal characters are the property of Paramount/Viacom.  No 
copyright 
infringement is intended, and no financial profit is anticipated. 
Summary:  With some action, adventure, and drama, Picard and Q develop a 
relationship . . . of sorts. 
Feedback encouraged and welcomed. 
  
  


Qstruck 
by atara 
Copyright (c) 1995 
  
  


Introduction 


Some acknowledgments and thanks are in order.  First of all to Patrick Stewart 
and John de Lancie for 
such memorable, electrifying, and erotically-charged performances and to Ron 
Moore for writing 
"Tapestry," and co-writing "All Good Things . . . ," without which this wouldn't 
be possible.  I also 
interviewed John de Lancie (on the phone, and I was a babbling idiot, BTW) and 
Ron Moore for some 
more scholarly ventures of mine, and I hope they'll excuse me for adapting some 
of their observations 
and insights to a considerably less scholarly venture here.  I also need to 
acknowledge some published 
sources.  I consulted the _Star Trek The Next Generation Technical Manual_ by 
Rick Sternbach and 
Michael Okuda (as well as the CD-ROM, which is a blast) quite often; 
Treknobabble is not my specialty, 
and any egregious errors are, of course, my own.  _The Star Trek Encyclopedia_ 
by Michael Okuda, 
Denise Okuda, and Debbie Mirek was incredibly helpful, and I consulted it 
continuously.  Finally, there's 
bound to be some influence from Peter David's _Q-in-Law_ and _Q-Squared_, and my 
references to the 
Academy Marathon were largely shaped by Carmen Carter's _The Devil's Heart_. 


At the risk of sounding like an Oscar winner, I also have to thank several 
people for reading this and 
offering support and/or constructive criticism:  Ruth Gifford, for being Ruth 
and for flattery (which 
got her everywhere), Bill Richey, Brian Lenertz, Chris Van Winkle, Janet 
Coleman, KC Kleinman, 
Mercutio, and, especially, Alara Rogers, editor and Q expert extraordinaire, 
without whose thoughtful 
and brilliant editorial suggestions, as well as her many insights and ideas 
about his Qness, this story 
would be a lot less true to character and make a lot less sense.  Reading "Only 
Human" and Alara's 
other stories while working on this was extremely intimidating but tremendously 
edifying, and she's 
had a huge and unquantifiable influence on all my writing about Q. 


A note on punctuation:  Dreams and alternate realities, which are discontinuous 
from the novel's 
"normal" timeline, as well as the characters' inner thoughts and telepathic 
"silent" conversations are 
indicated with double slashes (//). 
  
  


Prologue 


//In a small villa in the French wine country, in the year 2390, the occupant 
lay asleep on a sofa, a cat 
curled up next to him. Suddenly the sleeper's limbs jerked convulsively; 
dreaming of falling, he awoke 
with a violent jolt, displacing the indignant cat. "You'd think I'd have gotten 
used to that by now," he 
murmured to the cat. Hearing a knock at the door, he got up to answer it, paused 
for a moment, putting 
his hand to the small of his back, then opened the door with a sigh, admitting a 
bald elderly man, who 
had a concerned look on his face and asked, "Are you all right?"// 


//"Just a bad dream and a bad back. I don't expect either one will kill me . . . 
right away. At least I still 
have some hair."// 


//The visitor nodded sympathetically and asked,"If you knew how difficult it was 
going to be, would 
you still have done it?"// 


//"Yes, of course. You're worth any amount of difficulty. And believe me you've 
caused me a lot."// 


//"Well, I could certainly say the same for you! But you can still go back if 
you wish. This isn't 
engraved in stone."// 


//"They might take me back, but I made a decision, and, I might add, the most 
worthwhile decision I've 
ever made. I don't regret it. Never have, never will. But it certainly does take 
some getting used to."// 


//The cat began to meow. "What is it now?" demanded its owner. "You think you're 
the center of the 
universe, Beastie--do you know that?"// 


//The visitor smiled. "Well, you've certainly found a companion you can relate 
to--you two have so 
much in common."// 


//"You wound me, Jean-Luc . . ."// 


//("Who am I kidding? Myself apparently. Would I really make that sacrifice for 
*anybody*? Not 
likely. Would it matter to him if I did? Equally unlikely. And what's with the 
cat? I don't even *like* 
animals. Well, I've let my imagination run away with me again; that's the most 
implausible future I've 
dreamed up yet. Sleeping next to a cat? What'll I think of next? The 
possibilities, apparently, are 
endless.")// 
  
  


Chapter 1 


On a dark planet in an uninhabited and remote part of the galaxy, a figure sat 
on a ledge near the top of 
a mountain, watching a light show of swirling color unfolding in space. 
Coruscating bands of purple and 
pink, blue and green, interspersed with flashes of silver, whirled and rippled 
in an eternal and 
breathtaking ballet of hues which intermingled and flowed apart in a perpetual 
series of waves and 
spirals. This spot, and its view, was known to him alone, and it always brought 
him a measure of 
peace, temporarily soothing the restlessness and boredom that drove him from 
place to place in search 
of diversion. At the same time, he felt an overpowering loneliness, a feeling 
that grew with every visit 
to his mountaintop refuge. He longed to share this view with someone, and not 
just anyone, a particular 
someone, but he had no idea how to go about attaining that goal. For a being who 
could get whatever he 
wanted with a snap of the finger or a wave of the hand (that is, when he was in 
human form and had 
fingers and hands), this state was frustrating, to say the least. 


Q, for it was indeed Q, got up and paced restlessly on the ledge, his hands 
behind his back, then sat 
down again with a heavy sigh. A second later, an ironic smile crossed his face; 
he was a creature of 
irony, and even as he indulged his feelings, he couldn't help mocking himself 
for them at the same time. 
//I've obviously been spending too much time with humans//, he thought, //I'm 
starting to get 
sentimental//. Q wasn't one to berate himself for long, however; he was 
accustomed to believe that 
whatever he happened to be thinking or feeling was the right thing to be 
thinking or feeling. And 
moreover it was the *only* right thing to be thinking or feeling. Still, this 
attachment to a mere human 
was troubling to him; what was it about Jean-Luc Picard that drew him? He sighed 
again, for he knew 
the answer. Q liked a challenge, and Picard had posed one since their first 
encounter. The Captain had a 
commanding presence; he had imagination and ambition and drive and passion. He 
had a good deal more 
depth than most humans, and a contained, focused, yet towering energy that Q 
found quite attractive. 
That focus and drive seemed so appealing to Q because he lacked those qualities 
himself. Picard had 
accomplished a great deal despite his myriad limitations, perhaps even because 
of them, whereas Q had 
never had to work for anything. There was indeed something admirable about human 
aspiration and 
drive, and Picard had more of that inner vitality than any other human he had 
encountered. He was also 
a very good-looking man, Q thought with a wry smile; he had been around humans 
long enough to absorb 
some of their aesthetic criteria. 


But there was something else, too, an inexplicable bond or connection he felt 
that transcended the 
insurmountable differences between the two of them. What did humans call it? 
Chemistry? Ever the 
narcissist, Q was convinced that he saw a great deal of himself in Picard, and 
he liked what he saw. 
Picard's arrogance, his high opinion of himself, and his refusal to be 
intimidated by Q all tickled Q 
immensely; in so many ways Picard reacted just the way he would to a given 
situation. Of course, Q 
had had to take great pains to teach Picard that; the man had to die and be 
revived before he would 
finally admit that the ways in which he resembled Q were an essential part of 
his character. Whatever 
it was, Q felt more alive when he was with Picard than he could remember feeling 
in centuries. 


He thought repeatedly about expressing some of his feelings toward his object of 
affection, but 
vulnerability was *not* his preferred mode. On the occasions when he had had the 
opportunity, he had 
only been able to manage oblique hints, which Picard had either not processed or 
deliberately ignored. 
Instead of simply saying what he felt, Q had been unable to resist the 
temptation to make a gratuitous 
display of his power to try to force Picard to acknowledge his dominion. He 
couldn't simply tell Picard 
that he was maddeningly jealous of Vash, when the profit-minded archeologist had 
dropped in on the 
Enterprise; he had to force Picard into yet another one of his tests, a Robin 
Hood scenario designed to 
show Picard how love was bringing out the worst in him. Q's resulting departure 
with Vash hadn't had 
the intended result either, but at least he had an entertaining companion for a 
while, one who helped him 
recapture something of a sense of wonder at the glories of the universe. The 
particular view in front of 
him he hadn't shared with her, however. She was a diversion, nothing more. 


When Picard had died on the operating table, after he had been fired upon and 
his artificial heart had 
failed, Q couldn't resist playing authority figure and forcing Picard to bend to 
his will once again. He had 
simply intended to tell Picard something of his feelings and restore him to 
life, but when the time came, 
it was as if he was compelled to put the Captain through yet another test, this 
one giving him the 
opportunity to relive a portion of his past he was ashamed of. Although Picard 
had initially walked right 
into Q's trap, making the wrong decision, Q of course restored him to life 
anyway, after giving him the 
opportunity to rectify his errror. For all the fondness he felt for Jean-Luc, he 
had enjoyed playing God 
and teaching Jean-Luc a lesson, a lesson which he admittedly was grateful for. 


Q also wondered why, even when he was doing something for Jean-Luc's benefit, he 
couldn't help 
ridiculing and humiliating him while parading his own superiority. Was it that 
he was ashamed of his 
own feelings for a member of such an inferior species? Perhaps his continual 
derision toward Picard 
was a projection of his own confusion. As it was, his extremely undeveloped 
interpersonal skills had 
only increased Picard's contempt for him. It was only in their most recent 
encounters that the Captain 
had expressed gratitude for Q's assistance and just the barest beginning of 
comprehension of Q's 
fascination with him. 


At this point, curiosity overwhelmed any doubts he may have had, and he began 
probing Picard's mind, 
wondering if the man was thinking about him at all. He knew the Captain would 
not be at all happy about 
these invasions of his privacy, but he figured what he didn't know wouldn't hurt 
him. Q was never one 
to be stopped by ethical considerations, although there were lines even he 
wouldn't cross. This, 
however, was not one of them. //So, mon Capitaine//, he thought to himself, 
//have you forgotten me 
completely?// Picard's conscious mind was absorbed with the details of the 
mission he was engaged in, 
some diplomatic trivia regarding a planet petitioning for entry into that 
pointless Federation. Q probed 
further; for him, entering the mind of another was like a trip in virtual 
reality; he not only sensed 
emotions and verbally expressed thoughts, but detected repressed emotions and 
unconscious stored 
memories as well, receiving a stream of words, images, memories, and feelings. 
He could, of course, 
absorb the entire contents of a human's mind all at once, but he enjoyed the 
journey of penetrating the 
layers of consciousness one at a time, while filtering out irrelevant or 
uninteresting information. As if 
entering an inner room, Q investigated Picard's subconscious mind, with only the 
slightest pang of guilt. 
The image of Beverly Crusher was prominent, much to his disgust. He had no idea 
what Jean-Luc saw in 
her besides her looks. Further still, however, much to his delight, he 
discovered himself as if looking in 
a mirror. The emotions swirling around the image of Q in Picard's mind were of 
irresolution and 
perplexity, as if his thoughts of Q were a puzzle he could not solve, and had 
decided to put in the back of 
his mind. Q detected gratitude, curiosity as to why Q had taken such an interest 
in him, and a wholly 
unconscious pinprick of affection. 


The entity decided to conduct an experiment. He could, of course, have simply 
brainwashed Picard into 
falling in love with him, abandoning his position, and devoting the rest of his 
lifetime to Q. But Q knew 
that what was not what he wanted. While he had developed enough of an ethical 
sense not to overwhelm 
the object of his affections entirely, he couldn't resist a little test, a test 
in which Picard would be 
totally unaware of his involvement. He knew that if he and Picard ever did get 
closer, he would have to 
behave himself, or at least appear to be behaving himself, so he might as well 
enjoy being a cad while 
he could. 


Extracting a memory from Picard's own mind, Q planted it in his subject's 
consciousness, then sat back 
to enjoy the show, completely oblivious to the galactic wonders unfolding in 
front of him on his 
mountaintop. 


* * * 


Q's attention being drawn to Picard, he did not notice that in the far reaches 
of the Alpha Quadrant, at a 
location unimaginably distant from where Q was now, something had penetrated the 
galactic barrier, 
something utterly alien. It rested and waited, having come a very long way. 
After all, this galaxy 
would offer plenty of opportunities. Some kind of prey would come along in time. 


* * * 


Jean-Luc Picard was in his ready room, scanning historical and cultural 
information about the 
Angrians, the people petitioning for admittance into the Federation. He wanted 
to know as much as 
possible, so as not to commit any diplomatic gaffes. Although he was a skilled 
diplomat, the task in 
front of him was not commanding his full attention. He was beginning to 
daydream, in fact. 


Much to his surprise a visual memory popped into his conscious mind. It was when 
Q had given him the 
opportunity to relive a portion of his past, and he had spent an enchanting 
night with his old friend 
Marta Batanides. It was not Marta who popped into his mind, however; instead, 
the memory was of 
waking up the next morning, feeling a finger lightly stroking his ear, and 
rolling over to discover Q 
lying next to him and greeting him with an affectionate "Morning, Darling." 
Picard had, instinctively, 
yanked the covers up to his chin. What was nagging him about the memory, 
however, what puzzled him, 
was not his initial reaction to Q's presence, but rather, how quickly he had 
felt comfortable lying in bed 
and chatting with an entity he had come to think of as his most potent (and 
irritating) adversary. He 
remembered, as well, confiding in Q the previous day about some of his amorous 
indiscretions, and 
hearing Q remark, "I had no idea you were such a cad. I'm impressed." There was 
something puzzling 
about the entity's tone of voice--it seemed almost . . . well . . . 
affectionate. 


(//Well, of course it was affectionate, you incurable dimwit//, thought Q as he 
observed the memories 
unfolding in Picard's mind and his responses to them, //Do I have to spell 
*everything* out?//) 


Picard, meanwhile, was unaware that his daydream was being observed by the 
unimaginable telepathic 
powers of the very being he was daydreaming about. He would have been incensed, 
but in his blissful 
state of ignorance, he merely ruminated on how odd it was that he could chat so 
casually with Q. He 
realized later that Q had indeed engineered the whole incident for his, 
Picard's, benefit. Q had saved his 
life and at the same time had helped him become reconciled to an incident in his 
past he had deeply 
regretted. But in this particular memory, waking up to find Q beside him, it was 
perplexing that he 
could have felt so relaxed, almost intimate, with him. Was he, God forbid, 
beginning to perceive Q as a 
friend, or had Q simply lulled him into an unguarded state of mind? How could he 
assume that any 
feeling he had about Q was not planted by Q himself? Q was certainly capable of 
making him think 
whatever he wanted, yet somehow the conversation he remembered, the 
circumstances, and his own 
feelings seemed somehow natural, not something planted in his brain from 
without. 


(//No, I'm not brainwashing you, Jean-Luc. I may have called that memory into 
your consciousness, 
but the rest came from you. If you're starting to think of me as a friend, then 
that is entirely of your 
own volition!// Q smiled to himself; his experiment was going better than he 
thought. He noted that 
Picard was about to be summoned back to the bridge, and, a little wistfully, 
disengaged his mind from 
the Captain's.) 


Still unable to make sense of his reflections about Q, Picard was summoned to 
the bridge. He too, 
although he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint the emotion, and would have 
denied it if it were pointed 
out for him, felt a kind of wistful regret at having his daydream interrupted. 
Soon thereafter, Q also 
received a summons. He wasn't happy--being summoned by the Continuum was a bad 
sign. Q had a 
distinct feeling he wasn't going to like what he was about to hear. 


* * * 


//Standing on the surface of a planet with twin moons, Riker watched aghast as 
creatures in 
Napoleonic-era soldier uniforms attacked his friends. He was filled with horror 
as he watched Worf's 
death-struggle, as one of the creatures repeatedly stabbed him with a bayonet. 
Then, Wes . . . God, no, 
not Wes! . . . ran over to Worf's body and was impaled through the back. An 
echoing voice urged him, 
"Use your power! Use the power of the Q!" Riker couldn't take any more. In a 
fury, he exclaimed, 
"Damn it! DAMN IT TO HELL!" and his arm flashed as he intended to create a force 
field to protect his 
friends.// 


//Nothing happened.// 


//Nothing.// 


//Worf and Wes lay still on the ground, and the inhuman soldiers advanced . . . 
and kept advancing. // 


//A mocking, disembodied voice resounded through the landscape, "JUST 
KIDDING!"// 
Riker howled in frustration, waking himself up in the process. //I hate him! 
God, how I hate him!// he 
thought to himself. He tried to calm himself by reminding himself that it hadn't 
happened that way; none 
of his crewmates' lives had been lost. It didn't matter. //I still hate him. I 
wish we'd never heard of the 
God damned Q Continuum//. 


* * * 


//Picard sat up straight in the Captain's chair, giving commands as the 
Enterprise fled from the Borg 
ship at maxium warp. Photon torpedoes exploded harmlessly off the Borg ship, 
utterly ineffective. The 
shields were failing, and the Borg were about to recapture his ship with their 
tractor beam. And Q, 
damn him, was lying draped on the bridge railing, in a maddeningly relaxed pose, 
as if nothing of 
consequence was going on. A few moments later, after Q had taken over Data's 
chair at Ops, Picard 
knew what he had to do. He demanded, "Q end this!"// 


//"Moi? What makes you think I'm either inclined or capable to terminate this 
encounter?"// 


//Very well then, thought Picard, he had to humiliate himself utterly. He had to 
allow Q to triumph or 
lose the lives of his crew. It was an easy decision, but he knew he had to make 
a convincing 
performance, to allow the sadistic entity to have the complete victory he 
desired. "If we all die here, 
now, you will not be able to gloat," began Picard in a strained voice. "You 
wanted to frighten us, we're 
frightened. You wanted to show us that we were inadequate for the moment, I 
grant that. You wanted 
me to say I need you, I NEED YOU!"// 


//Q smiled . . . snapped his fingers . . . and vanished. Utterly.// 


//Slowly, inexorably, her shields down, her weapons useless, the Enterprise was 
being drawn into the 
maw of the Borg vessel, to be dismantled, her technology plundered, her crew 
assimilated or killed. He 
had led his entire ship and crew to destruction, in some god-forsaken part of 
the galaxy, because he had 
been too arrogant to accept Q's offer of guidance. And Q was pitiless. It was 
over . . .// 


Picard sat up, looked around his bedroom, temporarily disoriented, then realized 
he had been having a 
nightmare. Perhaps his knowledge of the disastrous events that came later, the 
Borg invasion, his own 
near-assimilation, and the later alliance of some of the Borg with Lore, had 
caused his mind to rewrite 
the script of that first encounter. But it could have happened that way, he 
thought, deeply shaken. 


* * * 


//Geordi La Forge was in Engineering, reluctantly trying to protect Q, who was 
in a shuttlecraft, being 
pursued by the Calamarain. As far as he was concerned, the Calamarain could do 
whatever they wanted 
with that arrogant, self-absorbed jerk, who had come swaggering into Engineering 
like he owned the 
place and hadn't shown the least bit of concern that Data had been severely 
injured while saving his 
useless life. He had better things to do than trying to save Q . . . like making 
a second attempt to 
restore the orbit of the Bre'el IV moon and saving millions of lives. La Forge 
could not remember feeling 
so callous before, but when all of his controls froze, and he could neither 
extend the shields around Q's 
stolen shuttlecraft nor get a lock with the tractor beam, he wasn't exactly 
sorry.// 


//Unable to operate the frozen controls, La Forge headed up to the bridge to see 
if he could help there. 
The Calamarain had vanished along with the shuttle. They had apparently seen the 
last of Q. Then, much 
to his disgust, Q suddenly appeared, complete with a mariachi band, to celebrate 
his restored 
omnipotence. Just as quickly he disappeared again. Suddenly Worf exclaimed, 
"Captain, the moon!" All 
heads turned toward the viewscreen, as the Bre'el moon plunged into the planet's 
surface. Although he 
was almost in shock, La Forge could have sworn that he heard a disembodied voice 
exclaim "Oops!"// 


//What the hell?// thought Geordi to himself as he woke up. //Q saved those 
people. Why did I dream it 
like that?// 


* * * 


//Reluctantly dressed as Will Scarlett, Worf was battling his way through a 
group of guards in a 
medieval castle, trying to protect the Captain. Picard, dressed as Robin Hood, 
was fencing with Sir Guy 
of Gisborne, all of them trapped in a ridiculous scenario staged by Q. 
Ridiculous as it was, Worf knew it 
was also real, and lives were at stake. He plunged toward the stairs to help 
Picard, only to watch in 
horror as Sir Guy's sword stabbed deep into his vitals. With a roar, Worf leapt 
upon Sir Guy from 
behind, strangling him in an instant, but it was too late. The Captain's fallen 
body lay sprawled on the 
stairs, the sword protruding out of his abdomen . . .// 


Worf found himself being shaken awake by Alexander. "Father," exclaimed the 
child, "I heard you yell. 
Are you all right?" 


"It was just a dream," responded Worf gruffly, embarrassed at his reaction. 


* * * 


//Beverly Crusher was doing everything she knew to save Jean-Luc's life. He had 
been carried into 
sick bay by Worf, having been fired upon, and his artificial heart was failing. 
The inaprovaline and 
cortical stimulators had no effect. Although she maintained an outward calm, 
Beverly's heart was 
racing, and she was terrified. Despite all of her efforts, Jean-Luc's life ebbed 
out of him, and he died on 
the operating table.// 


Waking up with a start, her heart pounding, Crusher gasped. Maybe the dream 
meant something was 
really wrong with Jean-Luc. When the actual events transpired, he had recovered, 
convinced that Q had 
restored him, but Beverly was never entirely sure how he had survived. Afraid to 
wake him, but even 
more afraid not to, she summoned him through the comm link. "Crusher to Picard, 
are you all right?" 


Picard's voice sounded rather dazed and disoriented, "Yes, Beverly, I'm fine. 
What is it?" 


"I'm sorry. I had a nightmare, and I just had to check on you. I'm sorry to wake 
you." 


"You didn't wake me, actually. I had a bad dream as well. But it's all right. 
Try to go back to sleep." 


Eventually Riker, La Forge, Worf, Picard, and Crusher fell back asleep. Although 
they didn't compare 
notes on their dreams, they all awoke the next morning with a sense of forboding 
that Q would soon be 
making another appearance and that, despite the fact that their dreams 
contradicted the actual events, 
he was definitely not to be trusted. For each of them it seemed that the dream 
versions of their 
experiences were just as plausible and there was no reason to believe that Q 
wouldn't, one day, use his 
powers against them in a genuinely destructive fashion. 
  
  


Chapter 2 


That night, the Captain had just retired to his quarters. His diplomatic mission 
was proceeding 
smoothly, but he was tense and knew he would be unable to sleep. There were 
ominous signs coming 
from the Cardassian border, and Starfleet Intelligence was reporting a gradual 
buildup and movement of 
ships. The Angrians' petition might have to be put off until a later time. 
Picard sighed and spoke to the 
replicator, "Tea, Earl Grey, hot." But just as he was reaching for his tea, a 
by-now familiar burst of 
light announced the arrival of Q in the room. 


Picard's mind flashed back to his nightmare, but he maintained a nonchalant 
demeanor. No point in 
revealing his uneasiness to Q. "Well, back so soon, Q. I guess you can't get 
enough of us." 


"Greetings and salutations, mon Capitaine," returned the entity, but his face 
looked drawn and worried, 
and he lacked his usual joie de vivre. "Jean-Luc, I'm sorry, but you have to 
come with me now. 
Directive from the Continuum. I don't have any choice." Before Picard could 
respond, they had vanished 
from Picard's quarters and had reappeared on the surface of an uninhabited 
planet a good many light 
years away. 


"What's this all about, Q? You know, I'm really getting tired of being snatched 
off my ship when I'm in 
the middle of a mission. Couldn't you phone for an appointment for once?" 


"*My* ship, *my* ship. My, aren't we indispensable? This is going to concern a 
whole lot more than 
your damned ship. Anyway, believe me, Jean-Luc, this is *not* my idea. In fact, 
I think it's a 
*terrible* idea. I tried to talk *them*" (at this Q raised his eyebrows and 
gestured skyward) "out of 
it, but, as usual, no one listens to me. Frankly I don't think you can handle 
it." 


"Handle what? 


"Look, let me try to talk sense to them one more time." Q closed his eyes in 
silent communication with 
his superiors, sighed, and said, "No good. They said if I won't do it, they'll 
send someone else who will. 
And if you have to go through with it, then I want to be with you to keep you 
out of trouble. You can of 
course turn down our offer, Jean-Luc," and with a menacingly serious tone, he 
added, "And if you want 
my advice, I strongly suggest you do just that." 


"I'm losing patience, Q, what offer?" 


"Well, if you insist. I am here to formally offer you, Jean-Luc Picard, Captain 
of the USS Enterprise, 
the powers of the Q. But if you have an ounce of common sense, you won't 
accept." 


Picard gasped, "The powers of the Q? Why? Wasn't your experiment with Riker 
sufficient?" 


"Oh, *you* performed so far beyond expectations on our last little test, the 
Continuum decided to make 
things a little more challenging. Riker has no imagination, and anyway I only 
gave him a portion of my 
abilities; they want to see what *you* would do--with full Q powers." 


"Under what conditions? Must I join the Continuum?" 


"No conditions. I just hand you the power and sit back to enjoy the show. Or, if 
I have any sense, I get 
the hell out of here." 


"Really, Q, your confidence in me is truly inspiring. It's touching to know you 
think so highly of me," 
retorted Picard, then added with an even harder edge to his voice, "Why exactly 
do you think I can't 
handle it?" 


"It's not exactly that I don't think you can handle it, Picard; it's that I 
think you're going to misuse it." 


Picard laughed, and it wasn't a mirthful laugh either. "Moi?" he queried, taking 
a page out of Q's book. 
"That's a good one, Q. You're a fine one to worry about someone else misusing 
power." 


"I'm dead serious, Jean-Luc. As serious as I've ever been. I'll admit that I 
have often given into the 
temptation to misuse my powers. I'm bored and restless, and when you're immortal 
and omnipotent, 
novel forms of entertainment are increasingly hard to come by. I'm also 
phenomenally selfish, I'll 
confess." (//So what's new?// thought Picard to himself.) "I heard that, Picard, 
so watch it. You're 
still the mere mortal here. But since I was being so humble as to list my 
shortcomings, allow me to 
continue. As I said, I'm bored and restless and selfish, I'm egotistical and 
stubborn and arrogant (and in 
that respect, you and I are more alike than you think, mon Capitaine), but the 
thing I am *not* is 
driven. I have no ambition whatsoever; why should I? I can have whatever I want 
whenever I want it. 
The idea of combining your drive and your energy with the power of the Q is 
frankly utterly terrifying 
to me. The Continuum are curious to see whether you would accept the offer at 
all and what you would 
do with the power once accepted. All in the name of scientific research, your 
tax dollars at work. But I 
think it'll be a disaster. I can see you're not going to listen to me, either, 
Jean-Luc." 


The possibilities began to unfold rapidly through the Captain's mind. Although 
Riker hadn't shown 
himself capable of handling it, Picard was curious about what it felt like; he 
couldn't imagine that his 
firm ethical grounding would simply vanish with the advent of unlimited power. 
He replied to his 
companion, "It's an unparalleled opportunity. Your utter lack of confidence in 
my ethics and in my self-
control notwithstanding, there is so much I could learn. It's very tempting, Q. 
To think of all the good I 
could do, the lives I could save, even if I have the power for only a short 
while. I have no intention of 
keeping it." 


Q looked downcast, and murmured softly, "But you won't do good, and you won't be 
willing to give it 
back. Much as I hope against hope that you would on both counts, I'm betting 
against you. Oh, well, I'm 
not being a very good tempter, am I? I'm trying my hardest to talk you out of 
it." 


"For that reason alone, I intend to accept," snapped Picard. "I'm really tired 
of you condescending to 
me, Q. This time I intend to *prove you wrong*!" 


"Well, mon Capitaine, if you *screw up*, as I expect you will, I intend to be 
the first to say, *I told 
you so*." 


"No doubt," remarked Picard wryly. "But you won't have the opportunity. Now," he 
added in a hard 
voice, "I formally accept your kind offer." 


"And I thought I was egotistical," muttered Q. He looked skyward and declared, 
"I won't be responsible 
for the consequences," then, with a palpable reluctance and a deeply worried 
look, extended his arm in 
a grand gesture toward Picard. "VOILA!"Picard's eyes snapped open. He felt 
himself expanding inwardly 
in all directions. Doors opened in his mind and light flooded into newly created 
rooms. Energy surged 
through every fiber of his body. He felt as though he could smash and rebuild 
dozens of solar systems, 
and he thought that he understood the ultimate fabric of the universe. He 
transcended dimensions; he 
could move anywhere he wanted in time and space. Infinite choices and 
possibilities burst upon his 
consciousness. He was convinced that he could fix whatever it was that was wrong 
in the galaxy, and 
he was equally convinced that it was his destiny to do so. //I, Jean-Luc 
Picard//, he thought to 
himself, //am now a god//, and he laughed and laughed and laughed, giddy with 
exhilaration and power. 


Q leaned back against a tree, shaking his head. //I knew this was a bad idea//. 


//I heard that//, returned Picard in his mind. //You're lucky I have other 
plans, or I would be 
exceedingly tempted to give you a good thrashing//. 


"Just try it, mon *dieu*" retorted Q, with that last word laced with bitter 
sarcasm beyond any Picard 
had heard from Q before. Q continued, "but if you do have other plans, I believe 
I will go watch from a 
safe distance. You might be interested to know there's some activity near the 
Cardassian border that 
might require your *godlike* intervention." With that he vanished, leaving 
Picard unsupervised, but 
not unwatched. 


* * * 


As soon as Q had taken Picard away from the Enterprise, Guinan shot awake with a 
start. //Not 
again//, she fumed to herself. She knew immediately what had happened. Her long, 
if hostile, 
acquaintance with Q provided her with an intuitive sense of his presence, and 
she had a fair ability to 
read what would be the equivalent of his conscious mind when she made the effort 
to do so. It was 
neither an easy nor a pleasant experience, however; something like sensory 
overload would set in very 
rapidly, so she didn't avail herself of the opportunity to probe him except in 
an emergency. And this 
was an emergency. Although she knew what the answer would be, she demanded, 
"Computer, locate 
Captain Picard," and the computer replied evenly, "Captain Picard is not on 
board the ship." She spoke 
quickly using using the comm link, "Commander Riker, this is Guinan. Picard has 
been taken by Q." 


"Riker here. Are you sure?" came the reply. 


"You're welcome to check for yourself," said Guinan drily, as she dressed. The 
expected summons soon 
came, and she headed for the bridge. 


The ship was on red alert, and Riker had summoned the command crew to the 
bridge. He demanded, 
"Guinan, what can you tell us?" 


"Not much, I'm afraid. I believe Picard is in some danger, but there's really no 
way to locate him for 
the time being. I don't think Q intends him any harm, if that's a consolation. 
All I can tell you is that as 
events start happening, you would do well to respond to them in as restrained 
and cautious a way as 
possible, or you could make matters a lot worse." Guinan knew a good deal more 
than she was letting 
on; she always did. But she didn't see the point in revealing information that 
might later be prejudicial 
to Picard, and she knew that Riker and his crew would not take kindly to being 
informed that their 
Captain was in a tremendously dangerous situation that they absolutely could not 
do one thing about. She 
knew that the best thing would be for the Enterprise to respond to upcoming 
events as passively as 
possible, but she didn't see how she could deliver that advice in any form in 
which it would be accepted. 


Riker demanded, "What do you mean? What events?" 


Guinan sighed, "I'm just the bartender, Commander. This isn't my place. What I 
do know is that the 
more actively you respond to what's coming the more irreparable the long-term 
consequences may be. 
Whatever situations arise, try to stall as long as you can before you come out 
shooting. That's all I can 
say." At this, she turned around and headed for the turbolift, her robes 
swirling around her, leaving 
Riker shaking his head in frustration. 


When Riker contacted Starfleet to inform them of Picard's disappearance, he was 
told that the 
Enterprise was not going to be able to engage in a search for the Captain 
because the situation at the 
Cardassian border was too unstable. Admiral Rodriguez said that there would be a 
general fleetwide 
alert about Picard's absence should any information about him be reported, but 
he couldn't spare the 
Enterprise in a situation of this nature. There had already been a skirmish 
between a Federation 
starship and a Cardassian warship, although both had withdrawn, severely damaged 
but without serious 
casualties. "I'm sorry Commander Riker," concluded Rodriguez, "if I were in your 
position, I would 
want to make finding the Captain my first priority as well. But we need you at 
the border." 


"Understood," replied Riker. After ordering the course change and informing the 
Angrians that the 
Enterprise had to respond to an emergency situation, Riker called a meeting in 
the observation lounge. 
After recapping recent events, he added, "I know we all want to look for the 
Captain, but if it's true he 
was kidnapped by Q, he could be anywhere in the galaxy, or outside of it for 
that matter. I don't see 
that we have any choice but to obey Starfleet's orders. Guinan did say she 
didn't think Q meant the 
Captain any harm, but, as usual, she didn't elaborate. What she said that was 
more puzzling was that 
she thought we should react as cautiously as possible to upcoming events, by 
which I assume she was 
referring to this buildup at the Cardassian border." 


Data interjected, "Her exact words, I believe, were 'What I do know is that the 
more actively you 
respond to what's coming the more irreparable the long-term consequences may be. 
Whatever 
situations arise, try to stall as long as you can before you come out 
shooting.'" 


"Commander," snapped Worf, "that doesn't sound advisable to me. If the 
Cardassians start shooting . . . 
" 


"Then we will, of course, respond," replied Riker. "But keep in mind that the 
Captain has always taken 
Guinan's advice into account when she has offered it. I don't know what she 
knows or how she knows it, 
but I believe we should keep what she said in mind. We should try everything 
possible to avoid a violent 
confrontation." 


Worf muttered to himself, but remained otherwise silent. Data added, "It is 
possible from what Guinan 
said that the Captain's disappearance is somehow linked to the situation at the 
Cardassian border. He 
may be in Cardassian territory. I agree that we should react with caution." 


La Forge and Troi nodded in agreement. Crusher was visibly upset and fought to 
keep her voice in 
control. "I understand that we have to follow orders, but I wish we could do 
something for Jean-Luc." 


Data turned to the doctor, "Doctor, I will investigate the Captain's 
disappearance as thoroughly as I can 
while we're on course to the Cardassian border." 


"Of course, Data, thank you." Crusher managed a weak smile. 


Suddenly, with a burst of light, Q appeared in the room. Placing his hands on 
the conference table, he 
leaned forward with an uncharacteristic urgency. 


"Q!" demanded Riker, "What have you done with the Captain?" 


"Look, if I had more time, I'd complain about the fact that whenever anything 
goes wrong around here, 
you always blame me, but I don't have time for that. You'll just have to trust 
me, whether you like it or 
not. I cannot do anything about Picard for the moment; it's out of my hands. 
When I am able to do 
something, believe me, I will." 


"What the hell are you talking about, Q?" asked Riker, furious. 


"I'm serious, Riker, so you're just going to have to listen to me and hope that 
something penetrates 
your thick skull. And listen carefully, because things are going to get pretty 
intense around here. 
Guinan's right, much as I hate to admit it. Do whatever you can to avoid 
shooting at the Cardassians and 
try to get the other ships in the fleet to do the same. Your Captain's in big 
trouble, and it's going to get 
a lot worse unless you can get Federation forces to delay fighting as long as 
you possibly can. That's 
the *only* thing you can do for him. You have a lot of lives you're responsible 
for, right now, 
Commander, so I suggest you make them a higher priority than your instinct to 
fight. I realize that will 
be impossible for *some* of your crew," here Q glanced pointedly at Worf, "but 
it's all riding on you, 
William T. Riker. Try to rise to the occasion for a change." In another flash, Q 
was gone. 


Everyone in the room was shaken by Q's apparent urgency. "Will, I think he means 
what he's saying," 
noted Troi, "I don't see any indication that he was trying to trick or mislead 
us." 


"I agree," said Data, "remember what the Captain told us about his last 
experience with Q. Even though 
the Continuum was putting him through a test, Q was clearly trying to assist the 
Captain." 


"Maybe," muttered Riker, "but I still don't trust him. Do any of us really 
understand what the Captain's 
last encounter with Q was all about? With Q there's no way to know if it really 
happened, or if he 
planted the whole thing in the Captain's brain, or if he had some ulterior 
motive of his own that he didn't 
mention to the Captain. Because his advice coincides with Guinan's, I'm inclined 
to give him the benefit 
of the doubt this time, but let's keep our eyes open. There's no telling what 
Q's after." 


"I would just like to get my hands on him," growled Worf. 


"That would not be advisable, Mr. Worf," remarked Data calmly, "given what we 
know of Q's powers." 


"Mr. Worf," said Riker, "I want a battle readiness report by 1400 hours. Mr. La 
Forge, see what you 
can do to boost shield capacity--if we're going to try to avoid a fight, we need 
to augment our defenses. 
Mr. Data, I need simultaneous communications links with all the ships in the 
fleet. And Doctor, . . . " 


"We will be prepared for casualties, Commander," replied Crusher. At this the 
crew dispersed to their 
various tasks. 


* * * 


Picard spent a short while on the planet Q had brought him to, flexing his new 
muscles. He picked up a 
rock, dazzled to realize that if he chose he could see it at the quantum level, 
all of the sub-atomic 
particles in continuous motion. He imagined the forces holding the particles 
together weakening, the 
particles coming apart. Suddenly, the rock dissolved in his hands. 
//Fascinating//, he thought to 
himself. He found that teleportation was effortless, as was his ability to "see" 
what was going on at 
any given point in the galaxy he focused on. He did not, however, focus upon a 
distant and uninhabited 
portion of the Alpha Quadrant, where a visitor from outside the galaxy was 
waiting and regenerating 
its energies. Why would he? Picard amused himself briefly by floating in space 
and temporarily 
diverting the paths of asteroids. He leapt from planet to planet, star system to 
star system as if 
puddle-jumping. From afar he could monitor what was going on on board the 
Enterprise. These abilities 
came naturally and effortlessly; at the same time he found he almost had to 
force himself to 
concentrate on simple displays of his abilities such as these to keep himself 
from being overwhelmed by 
the flood of information that poured into his brain. He had been given the full 
complement of Q powers, 
but he did not have the experience to process this sudden influx of knowledge so 
as to filter out what he 
didn't need and absorb what he did. 


It took him some time to realize that the roaring noise in his head was the echo 
of hundreds of voices; 
he was simultaneously reading the minds of every person he had ever encountered 
in his lifetime 
without even intending to. With some effort he was able to shut down and focus 
his new telepathic 
abilities, but he still couldn't handle all the knowledge, both scientific and 
metaphysical, at his grasp. 
The multidimensionality of the universe, the multitude of time lines and 
alternate histories, the essence 
of matter at its most quantum level, the fact that he personally could visit any 
point in the universe at 
any point in time, an overwhelming realization of the reality of uncertainty and 
randomness, numerous 
space-time fluctuations and paradoxes--all these and other types of knowledge 
beyond description 
flooded into his mind all at once. He knew there was something in there he 
needed to concentrate on, and 
his brain was relieved to focus on a simple, single situation--the Cardassians 
were threatening an 
incursion over the border, and Federation starships and lives were in danger. He 
felt that he could use 
his powers in some way to end the standoff without casualties, but he also 
wanted to convince both 
sides to hammer out a real peace treaty, one that wouldn't collapse under the 
slightest perceived 
violation. The problem was that he had no idea how to go about it. There was so 
much activity in his 
brain that he couldn't see his way to a solution. 


The brief skirmish between the Federation starship and the Cardassian warship 
had spurred both sides 
into a high alert status, and each was sending several ships to the border area 
for what would be, at 
the minimum, a standoff. Picard realized he had some time before both sides 
would be able to assemble 
their fleets and decided to investigate the most infamous prison camp on 
Cardassia Prime. That was his 
first mistake. His initial impulse was to find a way to force both sides to 
talk, but when he saw the 
condition of the starving and tortured prisoners, the memory of his own 
victimization by a Cardassian 
inquisitor rose up before his eyes as if he was watching a play. He could see 
his former self helpless 
and violated, undergoing an assault of physical and psychological agony. But now 
he did not feel 
helpless. Instead he felt an overwhelming fury, a surge of absolute power 
concentrated in a single, good 
cause--eradicating the galaxy of this tyranny. The anger that arose in him at 
the memory of his own 
torture and his seeing the suffering of the prisoners had the welcome effect, 
for him, of blocking out all 
the other information, knowledge, and sensations that were surging around his 
unprepared brain. This 
anger was something clear and simple that he could focus on; he felt with 
absolute certainty that it was 
his destiny to rid the galaxy of this scourge. 


As he still had some time before the ships would arrive at the border, he 
systematically released the 
prisoners, dispersing them to various Starbases where they could get medical and 
psychological care. 
As he emptied the cells, he filled them with guards, officials, and inquisitors. 
Remaining unseen, he 
used his new telepathic abilities to plant messages in the minds of his 
captives, instructing them that 
the militarism and imperialistic tendencies of their culture were morally wrong, 
as was the abuse and 
torture of prisoners. He also implanted ideas that he hoped would be the seeds 
of a more peaceful 
society. For the recipients of Picard's experiments in brainwashing, the effect 
was somewhat like an 
instantaneous and unexpected religious conversion. Imprisoned in the cells of 
their former victims, the 
jailkeepers felt an inexplicable and sudden overwhelming sense of guilt for 
their crimes, followed by 
what felt like a sudden realization that all of the values they had pledged 
themselves to were wrong. 
After an hour or so of contemplation the new prisoners were released to spread 
the gospel they had 
just received. Picard, had, in effect, tossed the Prime Directive out the 
window; in his omnipotent and 
omniscient state, it seemed like a foolish inconvenience, a product of narrow 
minds unable to sustain a 
grand and transformative vision. To all intents and purposes, Picard was no 
longer himself. The sudden 
influx of absolute power had driven him over the edge; he was so beset with his 
newfound energies that 
he had to release them in some fashion. There was no way that his usual ethical 
sense or his rational 
faculties could impose order and restraint; Picard was essentially being 
assaulted by irresistable 
impulses, and his prior experiences were not sufficient to give him enough of a 
context for how to 
handle his omnipotence. Picard had the powers of a god, along with very human 
drives, desires, angers, 
and fears. It was not a good combination. 


He emptied out the second-largest prison camp in the same fashion, making a 
point of using his 
newfound talent at mind control to coerce some of the higher officials into 
releasing any other 
prisoners being held throughout Cardassian territory. That task, as he saw it, 
was merely 
bureaucratic, and he didn't want to waste his valuable time. Then he turned his 
attention to the border 
area where the Enterprise and other Federation and Cardassian vessels were 
converging. 


* * * 


While their Captain was blithely transforming the Cardassian culture, the 
Enterprise was arriving at its 
designated position. The Federation was, of course, anxious to avoid a war, and 
Riker's orders were 
compatible with Guinan's advice . . . for the time being. Riker hailed the 
commander of the lead 
Cardassian vessel, Gul Torval. "This is Commander William T. Riker, acting 
Captain of the Starship 
Enterprise. We would like an explanation of the buildup of warships in your 
border region, but we, of 
course, wish to avoid a confrontation that could lead to an escalation of 
hostilities. I hope you can assist 
me in resolving this matter peacefully." 


The reply, in the usual Cardassian style, was blunt. "It is you who must provide 
us with an explanation, 
Commander. One of your starships fired upon one of our vessels, and we will not 
tolerate violations of 
our territory." 


With all due respect," noted Riker, "I believe it was the other way around. But 
as both ships survived 
without casualties, I hope we can find a way to put this incident behind us." 


"I'm sure we can find a way to do *that*, Commander!" snarled the Cardassian 
officer, "But it may not 
be in the manner you envision. Your Federation has a lot more than a minor 
border skirmish to answer 
for. Since when is Starfleet in the habit of sending undercover operatives to 
foment rebellion in enemy 
prison camps? You may not approve of our methods, but I don't believe our peace 
treaty has any 
provisions for one side covertly freeing prisoners on the other side and 
fostering insurrections among 
prison officials. What do you have to say about that, Commander Riker?" 


Riker was absolutely stunned as was the rest of the bridge crew. "This is the 
first I've heard of this, 
Gul Torval. Are you sure your information is correct?" 


"YES!" came the reply. "Our two largest prison camps have been emptied of 
prisoners, and the guards 
are in open revolt." 


"Gul Torval, I would like to request of you some time to investigate these 
allegations. If I have the 
opportunity to consult with Starfleet Command perhaps I can provide some sort of 
explanation. Have 
you captured any of the individuals responsible?" 


"No. They have vanished like the prisoners. I will grant you three hours to 
investigate and to consult 
with your superiors. When that time is up, I expect an explanation, some offer 
of reparations, and a 
concrete resolution. This is an extremely serious matter. If we cannot resolve 
it, the peace treaty 
between Cardassia and the Federation will be considered to be nullified. Do you 
understand, 
Commander?" 


"Perfectly. Riker out." 


The rest of the bridge crew all gasped, having been holding their breaths in 
shock and dismay. Riker 
turned to Troi, whose eyes were wide with astonishment. "He's not lying, Will." 


Data turned around and announced, "Commander, we are receiving reports of former 
prisoners of the 
Cardassians mysteriously appearing in the hospitals of four different Starbases. 
There was no sign of 
any form of transporter beam; they simply materialized." 


Riker rubbed his forehead. "Please someone tell me this is a nightmare, and I'm 
going to wake up. Can 
the Captain have *anything* to do with this?" 


"I do not believe so, sir." 


"How about the Maquis?" 


"I do not believe they could have the resources. What is being described is so 
extraordinary it can only 
be the work of an extremely powerful intelligence." 


"Q!" said Riker, Troi, and Worf simultaneously. 


Troi asked, "But why would Q start releasing the Cardassians' prisoners? It 
doesn't make any sense." 


Riker interjected, "What Gul Torval said about the guards rebelling--it's 
conceivable that Q would be 
capable of some kind of mind control. Could he be trying to foment a war between 
us and the 
Cardassians?" 


"I wouldn't put it past him," growled Worf. 


"If you recall, gentlemen," commented Data, "Q urged us, most vehemently, to act 
with restraint." 


"Maybe he just wanted to make us easier targets," said Worf. 


"No," mused Data, "I do not think even Q is capable of that degree of 
callousness. And if he wanted to 
start a war, he could do so in a far simpler fashion." 


"Well, the point is that we need to avoid one!" exclaimed Riker. "If anybody has 
any ideas, now would 
be a good time to communicate them." 


Silence fell over the bridge. Data finally volunteered to find out as much as he 
could about the situation 
in the prison camps, and Riker retired to Picard's ready room to consult with 
Starfleet Command and 
the commanders of the other starships in the armada. 


* * * 


Q, meanwhile, was frantic. He was observing everything Picard was doing, but he 
had been absolutely 
forbidden by his superiors to interfere until *they* saw fit. He kept pressing 
his point, but his 
eloquence was unavailing. The Continuum was determined to see the results of its 
experiment. Q then 
became engaged in an internal battle. He knew that stopping Picard was the only 
right thing to do, but he 
was extremely leery of provoking the wrath of the Continuum. Even though he was 
no longer officially 
on parole, he knew that they would use just about any excuse to drum him out . . 
. or worse. They had 
barely tolerated the assistance he had rendered Picard in the last test they 
came up with; he had only 
just managed to convince them that it would be unfair to expect a human to 
unravel a temporal paradox 
completely unassisted. He was on shaky ground, and he knew it, and at this 
point, Q had not mustered 
enough moral courage to defy the Continuum. He could foresee the possible 
consequences to himself all 
too vividly. He could only hope they would allow him to stop Picard before the 
consequences of his 
behavior were irreparable. 
  
  


Chapter 3 


Starfleet, of course, could not provide any explanation of the mysterious 
transformation of the 
Cardassian prison camps, but they had no intention of returning the prisoners to 
their former captors. 
Regardless of regulations and peace treaties, such an act of inhumanity could 
not be conceived. 
Everyone felt helpless; there didn't seem to be any way to appease the warlike 
Cardassians who were 
just itching for a fight. Riker proposed to Admiral Rodriguez that he share his 
speculations about Q's 
involvement with the Cardassian commander; the only hope he could see was that 
Gul Torval would 
understand that both sides were the victims of an enemy much more powerful than 
both of them. Riker 
hailed the Cardassian lead vessel. 


"Gul Torval, we have reason to believe that the events you described to us were 
not the work of 
Starfleet operatives, but were somehow instigated by Q. We don't know why. Are 
you aware of the 
existence of the Q Continuum?" 


"We have, of course, monitored Starfleet reports about this individual's 
activities. But you cannot 
dodge responsibility for Starfleet actions by laying the blame elsewhere. We 
insist on holding Starfleet 
fully responsible for this interference in our internal affairs. Torval out." 


All subsequent attempts to raise the Cardassian warship were in vain. The 
Cardassians were 
apparently determined to fight, and they had no interest in continuing a 
conversation. Still racking his 
mind for a peaceful solution, Riker reluctantly informed Admiral Rodriguez that 
a fight appeared 
imminent as the three hour deadline came up. 


* * * 


Picard had stationed himself, unseen, on the surface of a small uninhabited moon 
near the Cardassian 
border. He was so caught up in his blind fury that he did not note that Q was 
observing him from an 
asteroid not far away. Picard was monitoring the communications between the 
various ships, and he 
was fairly incensed that his brilliant tactic of releasing the prisoners was 
being falsely attributed to Q. 
Suddenly he leapt to his feet; he had "overheard" a Cardassian order that the 
warships were to 
anticipate the three hour deadline by several minutes and catch their enemies by 
surprise. The audacity 
of what they were sure was a Starfleet plan to interfere in their internal 
affairs left the Cardassian 
authorities feeling that they had no other choice but to fight. Anything less 
would reveal them as weak, 
unable to govern within their own territories. They had been humiliated enough 
in the past; the loss of 
Bajor still rankled, and the Maquis were a constant irritation. It was time to 
remind the Federation who 
they were dealing with. 


By this point, Picard had lost any capacity for rational thought and reflection. 
He was intoxicated with 
power and still battling to control the surges of facts, ideas, and 
possibilities that were sweeping 
through his brain. Anger was the only steadying force he had; it gave him a 
single and simple purpose, a 
clear way to make use of his powers. Instantly he determined to eliminate the 
entire Cardassian fleet 
with a thought. Then he could proceed with his transformation of the Cardassian 
culture--these brutes 
would pose a threat no longer. As far as Picard was concerned they had tortured 
their last prisoner and 
attacked their last starship. He, Jean-Luc Picard, would see to that. 


Q, of course, was reading Picard's mind with continued alarm. He had finally had 
enough--the Continuum 
be damned. He had a vague sense that the thousands of Cardassian casualties 
Picard was about to cause 
should have more significance for him than a purely theoretical one, but his 
principal concern was 
Picard. He knew that if the Captain actually executed his plan, it would utterly 
destroy him, and Q 
wasn't about to let that happen. The Continuum could do with him what they 
pleased. He launched a bolt 
of pure energy toward Picard, who wasn't expecting it, temporarily paralyzing 
him. Using the time 
Picard's incapacity bought him, Q proceeded systematically not only to disable 
the weapons systems of 
all the ships on both sides, but to damage them sufficiently that they would 
take days to repair. 
//There//, he thought, //that should give them time to cool off.// It was no 
small feat, even for Q, 
but he didn't have time to concentrate on mustering his energies anew; Picard 
had recovered, and able 
to focus coherently on only one thing at a time, he transferred all his 
overwhelming rage from the 
Cardassians onto Q. He could deal with the Cardassians later, but he had had 
more than enough of Q's 
interference. 


Q heard a voice thunder inside his head, //Q, YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS. I 
HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF 
YOU.// Instantly Q felt himself slashed with sharp pulses of 
energy like tearing claws. 


//God damned humans!// he thought as he recovered himself. //I should have just 
let them be 
exterminated.// Nimbly, he stepped into another dimension, 
manipulating the fabric of space and time so that he was able to come around 
behind Picard. Then with a 
sudden lunge, he yanked his adversary off balance and 
transported both of them to the distant planet where he had made the offer to 
Picard. He figured the 
assembled ships had enough to worry about without a cosmic 
clash of the titans taking place in front of them, and he did not want anybody 
there to become aware of 
Picard's presence. 


* * * 


On the bridge of the Enterprise, Riker was trying to cope with the magnitude of 
what La Forge had just 
informed him. Suddenly, inexplicably, every weapon system on the ship was 
inoperative. Geordi had 
never seen anything like it. The flow regulators and the plasma distribution 
manifolds of each phaser 
array were fused, the prefire chambers had collapsed in on themselves, the 
phaser emitter crystals 
had dematerialized altogether, the computer's targeting system was off-line, and 
the conduits by which 
to channel energy to the phasers were blocked as were the photon torpedo 
launcher tubes. Q was 
nothing if not thorough when he put his mind to it. "Commander," said La Forge 
in amazement, "this is 
going to take days if not weeks to repair." 


Data suddenly interjected, "Sensors are reading that all the other ships in both 
fleets are similarly 
disabled. Not one of them has any weapons capacity remaining." 


Soon thereafter, Gul Torval contacted Riker, and both sides agreed to withdraw, 
not having any other 
choice. "There will be repercussions!" threatened the Cardassian, but for the 
time being it was an 
empty threat, and both sides knew it. The repairs would be so extensive that the 
ships would have to 
use the facilities of a Starbase. Riker was unwilling to leave without having 
located the Captain, but he 
could not leave a defenseless vessel near the Cardassian border. As he was more 
and more convinced 
that Q was somehow involved, he resigned himself to waiting, knowing there was 
nothing he or anyone 
else on the Enterprise could do. Wearied and perplexed by recent events, he 
ordered the ship to the 
nearest Starbase for repairs. 


* * * 


Picard had thought he was furious before, but now he was even more so. All of 
his varied humiliations 
at Q's hands crowded into his memory. All of the insults and derision Q had 
launched at him blocked any 
recollection of the times Q had been on his side. All he could hear was Q 
taunting him for his "puny 
mind" and describing him as "such a limited creature"; like a broken record he 
could hear the mocking 
voice jeering over and over again, "You obtuse piece of *flotsam*!" Obtuse and 
puny no longer, Picard 
lashed out. He hurled Q against a massive rock with enough force to take the 
equivalent of Q's breath 
away. As Q remained pinned against the rock, shaken and dazed, Picard advanced 
toward him, launching 
ferocious darts of energy, each one exploding in Q with a searing pain. 
Fortunately for Picard, Q *had* 
learned to channel and restrain his powers, his prior history notwithstanding. 
He had enough force 
remaining in him to shred his attacker into sub-atomic particles, and he knew if 
he didn't get Picard 
under control, he might have to so anyway, but despite all the wrath that 
consumed him, he 
remembered that killing Picard was not his intention. 


"OH I'M PUNY AM I? I'M OBTUSE AM I?" demanded Picard as he advanced. 


Q returned, "Jean-Luc, you are surpassing all your previous attempts at pure 
deranged asininity. I 
simply had no idea what a primitive brute you really were under that civilized 
facade. The mind 
boggles." His arm whipped in a blur, and Picard found himself flat on his back 
several hundred feet 
away. He was so driven by rage at Q's mockery, that he recovered in an instant. 


"Listen to me, Q," said Picard in a cold voice utterly devoid of humanity, a 
voice that chilled Q to the 
core, "I am going to destroy you." Q realized what he'd been denying up until 
now--Picard was insane. 
*His* Jean-Luc was so far buried under this new persona of pure wrath and 
vengefulness that he did 
not know if Picard would ever be himself again. It didn't matter; Q knew what he 
had to do. The problem 
was that his adversary was driven by a fury so absolute, a fury that increased 
his power 
exponentially, that Q honestly didn't know if he could find a way to stop him. 


Trying to figure out how to defeat Picard without destroying him, Q nimbly 
evaded most of the bolts of 
energy Picard was hurling at him. Every blow that did land, however, drained him 
more. And Picard 
was learning; there was no point in trying to escape into other dimensions to 
try to regroup. Picard 
would simply follow him; he seemed virtually unstoppable. Suddenly Q found 
himself jerked up in the air 
then smashed so hard into the planet's surface that he left a crater. Without 
touching him Picard was 
then shaking him like a rag doll, pinning him against the ground, and sending 
lightning strikes into Q's 
battered form. Q had enough mental capacity left to notice that Picard was 
keeping a safe distance from 
him as he launched his assault. Q thought if he could get close enough he might 
be able to take the 
Captain by surprise. Q lay on the ground in a crumpled heap; Picard was too 
confident to try and read 
his adversary's mind, and he approached Q, ready to finish him off. 


Suddenly Picard found himself immobilized, as a gigantic length of chain whipped 
itself around him, 
pinning his arms to his sides and his legs together. He was momentarily stunned, 
but managed, with 
effort, to break free of his restraints. It was too late, however. Q was on top 
of him, knocking him off 
balance, jerking his arms behind his back and forcing him down on his knees. Q's 
grasp was unshakeable, 
no matter how much Picard struggled. He had used up a good deal of energy 
escaping from the chains Q 
had conjured up, and now every move he tried to make was deterred by the iron 
hands which grasped 
his wrists and neck. His mind practically boiled over with frustration. He heard 
a voice intone, "That's 
it, Picard. It's over. You will surrender the powers back to me NOW!" Picard 
made one more futile 
attempt to wrench himself out of Q's grasp, but Q had finally mustered all his 
stores of determination. 
He said in a gentler voice, "Jean-Luc, I know you're in there somewhere. This is 
all wrong, and you 
know it. Give up the powers. It will be a lot more painful to you if I have to 
take them from you by 
force." Wordlessly Picard slumped on the ground, somehow knowing how to release 
the powers which 
had so transformed him. He relaxed his mind, his hands opened slightly, and he 
was human once again. 


Q didn't waste any time. Picard was a mess, his mind a fluctuating chaos of 
memories, thoughts, and 
surging emotions, and his identity was unstable, shattered into fragments by the 
sudden withdrawal of 
the all-powerful monster he had become. Q didn't know if much of the original 
Picard was left, but he 
sat down against a rock, gathered the unconscious Captain into his arms, and 
began probing through his 
brain, trying to rebuild the layers of Picard's consciousness, reassembling 
memories, sensations, 
feelings, thoughts, and beliefs, trying to reconstruct some identity Picard 
would recognize as himself. 
"Come on, Jean-Luc," Q murmured, brushing his lips against Picard's forehead, "I 
didn't go through all 
that to lose you like this." For hours, he quietly sat, cradling his patient and 
using his telepathic powers 
to put Picard's shattered self back together, to restore him to some vestige of 
who he was before he 
accepted Q's offer. Finally satisfied with the results, Q arranged Picard's 
still unconscious body in a 
resting position on the ground, and withdrew several feet away to go about the 
business of recovering 
himself. 


* * * 


Picard's head was reeling in a particularly sickening way. As he slowly regained 
consciousness, he had 
tried to get up, but collapsed, nauseous, exhausted, and dizzy. All he wanted to 
do was crawl into a hole 
somewhere and rest . . . for a few weeks at least. He was too overcome even to 
speak, but it was 
obvious he was in no condition to be traipsing around the galaxy. Q was 
pitiless, however; while Picard 
had lay unconscious, his own anger at both Picard and at his superiors had been 
building back up almost 
beyond the point of self-control. His compassion was used up, and he knew 
exactly what he had to do. 
His face was grim and utterly determined, he looked taller and inhumanly rigid, 
and his eyes flashed 
with a preternatural light. He was controlled fury incarnate; Q's flippant 
demeanor was a dim memory. 
When he spoke, his voice echoed, "Now that you're awake, we have a little 
journey to make, Picard." 
He yanked the Captain up by the arm, and they disappeared off the planet's 
surface in a blinding flash. 


An even more blinding flash announced their arrival at their destination. It was 
like nothing Picard had 
ever seen, and he was even more dizzied by the sight. He rested on a kind of 
platform overlooking what 
appeared to be a gigantic lake in space composed of white and silver light 
eternally flowing in swirls 
and ripples. All around the lake Picard could barely discern amorphous figures 
on similar platforms; it 
was as if their form kept changing, undulating with the rhythm of the swirling 
lake, and his attempt to 
get a fix on them so overwhelmed his senses that he lost consciousness, only to 
find himself instantly 
awakened and forced into a sitting position. His own muscles were incapable of 
supporting him; he knew 
it was Q that was holding him up. Even though every fiber of his being was 
tending toward 
unconsciousness, he intuited somehow that Q was also keeping him awake and aware 
of the proceedings, 
although Q did not appear to be paying him the least bit of attention. 


Retaining his adopted human form, but somehow appearing much larger, Q addressed 
the beings grouped 
around the lake. Picard realized that this was the Q Continuum, or at least one 
form it took, and he 
could barely breathe the air Q was, as a matter of course, providing him. When Q 
spoke, his voice 
resonated across the lake, his hands were gripped tightly into fists, and his 
entire being emanated fury 
and power. Picard was terrified; he had never seen Q in such a towering rage and 
realized that his 
clenched fists indicated a mind-boggling amount of self-control. 


Q spoke: "I have had enough, and this is my ultimatum. I am demanding that the 
Continuum cease 
altogether from trying and testing this human. I will refuse to cooperate in any 
more experiments that 
put him and his fellows in danger, and furthermore, I will do everything in my 
power to prevent any of 
you from doing so. If you have any intention of interfering with him or other 
humans again, you will 
have to destroy me first and be thorough about it, because any atom of 
consciousness I have remaining 
will be directed toward thwarting you. I will not allow any further trials of 
humankind. They will 
continue to evolve as they have been. We cannot continue to interfere in their 
development. We do not 
have the right to continue to put them in danger of destroying themselves and 
others. They may try our 
patience, but we are going to have to tolerate their inadequacies for a long 
time to come. They even 
have a few valuable qualities we lack, and if anything, we should try to learn 
what we can from them, 
instead of forcing them to try conform to our preconceptions. This human is 
neither a toy for our 
amusement nor an insect for us to examine. He may not have our capacities, but 
he is conscious, he is 
aware, and he has suffered from our interference and manipulation. I will not 
allow that to happen 
again. Not only am I demanding that we cease to interfere with this human and 
his species, but I am also 
declaring my intention to extend my protection to him for the duration of his 
natural lifetime and to any 
vessel he may command." There was just the slightest twinge of the old Q sarcasm 
in his echoing voice, 
as he concluded, "I await your answer." 


Q continued to stand, legs apart, arms folded, continuing at the same time to 
maintain Picard in a sitting 
position and to keep him conscious. It was absolutely silent; Picard knew that 
the debate was being 
carried on telepathically. Although he had no empathic abilities himself, he 
could sense a rising tension; 
the lake vibrated with the conflict. Q simply followed the discussion, his eyes 
flickering back and forth 
as he listened to the silent debate; he had nothing more to add. Picard could 
also sense that Q was 
continuing to muster a heroic self-control; he sensed that on the one hand the 
entity was trying to 
restrain himself from vaporizing the entire quadrant, and on the other hand, he 
was trying to battle 
down a mounting fear. Picard knew nothing about he workings of the Q Continuum, 
but from his 
knowledge of previous penalties they had imposed on Q, he guessed they were 
unlikely to be charmed 
with this challenge to their authority. His head began to throb ferociously 
along with the rest of his 
body; the combination of the suspense and the overwhelming magnitude of what he 
was observing were 
close to unbearable. Q remained pitiless, however; presumably he could have 
alleviated some of 
Picard's suffering, but he wasn't interested. He simply wanted the Captain awake 
and aware of what 
was going on, and he wanted him sitting up, so that the object of his ultimatum 
to the Continuum was 
not simply lying in a heap. In his exhaustion and suffering from sensory 
overload, Picard was about to 
begin to weep, when a voice inside his head resonated, //Don't you dare, not 
here. Get a grip--think 
about how much *worse* I could make you feel.// 


Picard was distracted from his agony by a flash and the arrival of what appeared 
to be a human male 
with blond hair tumbling over his forehead. He knew of course, it was another Q, 
taking human form for 
his benefit. The newcomer spoke, "Well, well, well, that was *quite* a speech, 
Q. Did you rehearse it 
on the way over here? You could have scavenged what's left of your Captain's 
mind here and at least 
gotten a few Shakespearean passages to spice it up." 


Without moving, Q slammed his colleague hard against the floor of the platform. 
"I'm not playing games 
now, Q. And I don't appreciate having the final deliberations closed off to me. 
I believe I'm still a full 
member here." 


The second Q got up, brushed himself off, and snapped, "We locked you out 
because we knew how you 
would react to anyone who spoke against you. No one here wants to be the target 
of one of *your* 
grudges. As it is, you won--with concessions. We will no longer test human 
beings or put them on trial 
or interfere with their development, and we will not prevent you from extending 
your protection to 
whoever you want as long as you don't give them an undue capacity to destroy 
whomever they happen 
to be quarrelling with at the moment." 


"I believe it was you who insisted on giving a human that capacity recently, not 
I. I said I would protect 
them; I won't actively interfere otherwise. What are your conditions?" 


"Well, it seems that this is a species with a remarkable lack of self-control. 
They apparently need to be 
monitored. We will not interfere, but we want to be kept informed about their 
development. If any of 
them start wreaking havoc in the future, we will consider them to be your 
responsibility, so you'd 
better see to it that they acquire some restraint and some awareness as they 
evolve. If this," he 
gestured toward Picard, "is the most advanced specimen you could come up with, 
and he came as close 
as he did to destroying an entire culture, then they're sorely in need of some 
guidance. And guess what, 
Q? You're the expert on their little species--they're *all* yours. I have to 
admit, though, they are 
fairly interesting as inferior species go--I'll be looking forward to your 
reports. Farewell, Q. I hope 
you find your new charges sufficiently entertaining." 


The second Q disappeared. Q was still seething. He felt a tremendous amount of 
relief, of course, that 
the Continuum had accepted his ultimatum instead of vaporizing him, but he was 
still furious with 
Picard for having put him in this position in the first place. He again yanked 
Picard's arm, snapping, 
"Let's go. I'm not through with *you* yet." 


* * * 


On board the Enterprise, which was now approaching Starbase 329, Riker turned 
the bridge over to 
Data and headed to Ten-Forward in search of Guinan. He found her behind the bar, 
looking distracted and 
troubled. "Can we talk privately?" he asked. Guinan nodded, beckoned to one of 
her assistants, then led 
Riker to her office. "What's going on, Guinan? Where's the Captain?" 


She sighed, "He's with Q. That's all I can tell you." 


"Do you think he's all right?" 


"I certainly hope so, Commander." 


* * * 


In an absolute fury Q returned himself and Picard back to the planet. The strain 
of the past several 
hours was too much for him, and he completely lost control. He raged, "You're 
lucky I don't rip every 
organ out of your body one at a time over and over again for the next century! 
The last thing I needed 
was another humiliation before the Continuum!" 


Picard was visibly sagging, despite Q mentally holding him up. Q yanked him up 
by the front of his 
uniform, so that his face was on a level with Q's and his toes were dragging on 
the ground. He would 
have been dismayed at his helplessness, but at this point, he was almost numb. Q 
gave Picard a shake, 
demanding, "Look at me! Do you have *any* idea, you witless, thick-headed, 
barbaric, presumptuous 
*Neanderthal*, how close I came to having to *kill* you? Do you have *any* idea 
what that would 
have done to me? DO YOU?" With every repetition of "Do you," Q gave Picard a 
violent shake. He then 
exclaimed, "If I don't make you suffer, I'm going to *explode*!" 


Q was about to ignite every nerve of Picard's body, but miraculously, he stopped 
himself. His wrath 
needed an outlet, however. While he was still holding Picard up with one hand, 
his other arm flashed, 
and Picard beheld a massive firestorm begin to devour the landcape around him. 
Trees went up like 
torches, then crumbled, boulders exploded, and the ground scorched. Picard and Q 
were standing in the 
eye of a fiery hurricane; the flames didn't reach them, but were whirling around 
outside the immediate 
area where they stood. As the flames raged, lightning crackled across the sky, 
flashing through the 
enormous pall of black smoke. Picard hardly dared to look at Q, but noticed that 
the entity actually 
seemed to be relaxing, growing calmer. Then, as suddenly as the firestorm 
started, it stopped. The 
smoke cleared, the lightning dwindled away, and the landscape was restored to 
its original condition. Q 
turned to Picard and remarked casually, "You know, Jean-Luc, you're lucky I have 
more self-control 
than you give me credit for. I almost did that to *you*." With a groan of 
disgust, Q lightly tossed 
Picard about ten feet away, as easily as one would toss a rag doll into a toy 
box, then finally relaxed 
his hold on Picard's consciousness, mercifully allowing the Captain to pass out. 


When he regained consciousness, Picard forced himself into a sitting position 
and put his head in his 
hands. He was utterly shocked at the amount of destruction he had been about to 
cause, and he was still 
reeling from the experience he had just had, although his memories of it were 
incoherent and confused. 
His body ached in every nerve, his head was throbbing, and his entire self-image 
was crumbling. Q, 
meanwhile, was trying to get a grip on himself. He had used a tremendous portion 
of his mental energies 
to subdue Picard and to confront the Continuum, and he hadn't been sure he was 
going to be able to do 
either without seriously harming the person who meant the most to him or being 
destroyed himself in 
the process. When he had recovered a little of his composure, he noticed Picard 
in an attitude of 
absolute despair. At this point, sympathy was not uppermost in Q's mind, 
although a good deal of his 
fury had abated after he had vented it with his display of pyrotechnics. Q had 
regained his self-control, 
but Picard's refusal to listen to him when he made the offer in the first place 
still ticked him off. And 
guerrilla psychotherapy had always been his preferred method of dealing with the 
vagaries of human 
behavior; empathetic and nonjudgmental listening were not part of Q's 
repertoire. 


"Oh, mon Capitaine," he said in a deceptively alluring voice, "or should I 
perhaps call you my fallen 
God? Whatever it is, I TOLD YOU SO! I know you better than you know yourself, 
with your high ethics 
and moral principles. Aside from the fact that you nearly demolished an entire 
Cardassian fleet, you 
were about to rearrange the entire Cardassian culture according to your own 
ideals. So much for your 
holy Prime Directive. If anything just proved to us that we need to keep a close 
eye on you, you just did 
it. Congratulations--you've earned yourself the exalted position of being a 
species permanently in need 
of our supervision." 


Q slowed his tirade long enough to notice that Picard was weeping. "Please Q," 
he said in the most 
trembling voice Q had ever heard him use, "please. I know I deserve the lecture; 
you were 100% right, 
and I was completely, totally, utterly wrong. But I can't stand being berated 
right now. I don't even 
recognize myself. I don't understand how I could have gone so wrong." 


"You're a human, Jean-Luc Picard. You are not a god. You are not capable of 
handling the powers of a 
god. You've always wanted to rearrange the galaxy in your own image; there's a 
good reason you 
haven't gained the capability to do so. If your species is going to evolve, it's 
going to be through gradual 
development; I've *finally* learned that even if the rest of my colleagues 
haven't. Trying to push you 
along faster than you're ready for is a mistake, but you, if anyone, ought to 
have known how tempting 
power was going to be to you. Or if you didn't know, you ought to have listened 
to me. You know, it's 
pretty damned frustrating to know everything, and no one listens to me. You 
ought to have learned to 
trust me by now; haven't I shown you that I have your best interests at heart, 
even if they contradict 
the wishes of the Continuum? Didn't I help you ensure the survival of your 
entire *miserable* species? 
And this is how you repay me? You just had to go follow the whims of your 
massive ego, which so far 
overreaches your capabilities and your capacity for self-control that it boggles 
the mind. And you 
thought you would do better than Riker did--that's a joke. He wouldn't have come 
close to conceiving 
the type of damage you were about to cause. Your species is admirable in its 
ambition and drive, I'll 
admit, and you in particular have an energy and will that we in the Continuum 
lack. But that's a good 
thing because that kind of energy combined with unlimited power is a recipe for 
trouble. I knew you 
would not be able to restrain your worst impulses and your narrow way of seeing 
things. 


To us, the conflict between the Federation and the Cardassians is just another 
minor skirmish in the 
history of the galaxy, two more groups of humanoids who are too foolish to 
perceive the ways in which 
they are alike and have interests in common. You, for all your ethical 
principles, still perceive things in 
black and white terms; the Cardassians were the enemy, and all of a sudden you 
had the power to do 
something about it. You may have been nearly omnipotent, but I didn't notice any 
great leaps of insight 
on your part. While your pitiful species does have a few virtues, the sudden 
acquisition of unlimited 
power would be too much for any human to take; even Ghandi would have probably 
exterminated the 
British. You're still too much the slaves of your worst impulses; fortunately 
your *extremely* limited 
abilities prevent you from doing too much damage, even though you nearly 
destroyed your own planet 
through wars and environmental devastation. You may have become slightly more 
enlightened in the 
past century or two, but you have a GOD DAMNED LONG WAY TO GO, and the only 
thing that really 
keeps you and other humanoid species from destroying the galaxy is that you keep 
each other in check. 
You were a lot more sensible when we first met, and you were defending what your 
species had 
accomplished up to now; I thought you were giving yourselves far too much 
credit, but at least you 
weren't overreaching. Save lives! Benefit humanity! Spread peace and goodness 
throughout the 
universe, my derriere! The thing that *really* gets me, the thing that utterly 
infuriates me, is that 
you accepted a challenge you knew you weren't ready for out of a petty, 
perverse, childish desire to 
prove me wrong. If I were you, Jean-Luc Picard, I WOULDN'T TRY THAT AGAIN." 


Picard continued to weep, but he heard and absorbed every word. "Q, I'm 
thoroughly and completely 
humiliated, I'm horrified at what I almost did, and I'm infinitely grateful for 
your intervention. You're 
absolutely right in your analysis of my motives, for which I'm deeply ashamed, 
and I deserve every 
word of your tongue-lashing and more, but," and here the sobs escalated, "what I 
really need is your 
compassion now, not your anger. There are no words to express my sorrow for what 
I've done, but I 
am sorry for not listening to you. But, please, I need your help to get through 
this; I don't know how to 
do it on my own!" 


Q's anger dissipated immediately at this confession. He sat down next to Picard 
and put his arm around 
the Captain's shoulders and let him cry uninterruptedly for several minutes. 
Finally, he said in a much 
gentler tone, "Jean-Luc, Jean-Luc, you're going to get through this. You're the 
strongest human I know. 
You made a huge mistake, but there's been no permanent damage done fortunately," 
he smiled wryly, 
"so consider it a learning experience." 


Picard had calmed down somewhat, but what Q said brought him up short: "You said 
'fortunately.' Was 
it possible that you might not have been able to stop me?" 


"Oh yes, it was, Captain. When you have two powerful minds in combat with each 
other, usually the one 
with the most drive and motivation behind it wins, the one who sees victory more 
clearly. It's not a 
matter of physical ability, but rather mental energy. You were pretty damned 
determined, and I'm 
really not used to exerting myself that much; we don't have too much mortal 
combat going on in the 
Continuum. I mean, I probably could have simply destroyed you, literally ripped 
you apart to the 
molecular level, but you would have been extremely difficult to reassemble, and 
I kind of like having 
you around. So given the fact that I was trying to ensure your survival, I had 
to be a little circumspect 
in trying to restrain you. But these were the possible outcomes if I hadn't 
succeeded when I did: either 
you would have destroyed me or I you. I couldn't let you go on the way you 
were." 


Picard looked even more pale and stunned than before. "How reassuring. I was 
trying to kill you, wasn't 
I? And you were just trying to help me. Q, I don't know what to say." 


"How about 'thank-you for preventing me from destroying the galaxy and not 
killing me in the process, 
Q'? That should do nicely." 


"Thank you, Q. I don't see how I can ever repay you, but you have both my 
gratitude and my 
repentence." 


"Well, look, Jean-Luc, I have one more thing to say. You really terrified me in 
a way that I have never 
been terrified. It's not a feeling that agrees with me. And, if you *ever* 
frighten me like that again, or 
if you ever disregard my advice when it's for your own good, I'll have to . . . 
I'll just have to . . . 
*spank* you until you come to your senses. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not." 


Q's half-joking threat had the desired effect, and Picard was beginning to 
recover his equanimity. 
"Well, Q, I will make a point of *not* affording you that opportunity." (//Too 
bad//, thought Q to 
himself.) "And thank-you, I do feel better," continued Picard, "although I don't 
think Counselor Troi 
would approve of your methods." He sighed, "I have never been made quite so 
aware of how fallible I 
am. It's going to be a difficult adjustment for me, but it looks like I'm going 
to have to defer to your 
judgment for a while." 


"Precisely," replied the entity. He suddenly leaned forward, placing his lips 
immediately next to 
Picard's ear, declaring in his most threatening manner, "And by the way, you'd 
better get *used* to 
having me around, because I'm going to be keeping a *very* close eye on you. 
Apparently keeping you 
out of trouble is a full-time job." 


"And would you like quarters prepared on board the Enterprise?" snapped Picard, 
trying to cover for 
the unease Q inevitably provoked in him with his insistent intrustions into 
Picard's personal space. 
Having such a powerful being at such close range was tremendously unsettling, 
but Picard hated to let 
his discomfort show. 


"As a matter of fact, yes. Actually, Jean-Luc," replied Q with his most 
insinuating tone, "I'd prefer to 
share yours, but I'll gladly accept the most spartan of available spaces. I can 
always redecorate." 


Picard looked at Q. "You really mean it? You're planning on staying on the 
Enterprise?" 


"Well, I don't expect to be there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I'm sure I'll 
take plenty of side-trips, 
use my frequent flier miles. But, yes, I am inviting myself on board your ship 
as a sort of semi-
permanent observer, with the intent of facilitating comprehension and 
communication between my 
people and yours--there, that should sound good in a Starfleet report. It *is* 
part of your mission 
after all. I will give you my personal guarantee that I will not do anything to 
harm you or your crew, 
nor will I deliberately expose you to any danger. And the Continuum, while they 
promised not to 
interfere with you any more, made it very clear to me that I'm responsible for 
your pesky little 
species now. I'm supposed to supervise you rigorously, or some damn thing." 


"Why do you really want to do this?" 


"I've told you many times before, Jean-Luc: even if you are a human, you're my 
closest friend in the 
galaxy. Almost losing you made me see even more clearly how important you are to 
me." Q's tone grew 
instantly harder, "And, as I said, you need someone to keep an eye on you." 


"Q, I'm touched," said Picard drily, " but I'll have to think about this." 


"It's not as though you have much choice," responded Q airily, "I'm omnipotent, 
remember? And you, 
thank God, *aren't* any longer. Shall we go visit my new home?" 


  
Chapter 4 


In a flash, Q and Picard materialized in the Captain's ready room. Picard was 
sitting in his chair trying 
to reassert his authority and his sense of himself, while Q sprawled comfortably 
on the couch. 
Returning to the ship made them both fall back into their familiar patterns of 
interaction; neither one 
was comfortable with wrenching emotions of the experience they had just shared. 


"Just a minute, please, Q," said Picard, "I'd better let them know I'm here." 


"I have all the time in the universe, remember?" said Q lazily, draping one leg 
along the top of the 
couch. As Picard walked out, Q perused Picard's Shakespeare volume, remembering 
ruefully, although 
not without regret, that he had once thrown it at him. Picard had good reflexes, 
however, and had 
caught it undamaged. //Ugh//, he thought to himself, //I really blew it that 
time. And a good thing too. 
Imagine Riker as a member of the Continuum! No, I can't. What a revolting 
prospect.// 


Picard emerged from his ready room and was instantly surrounded by the bridge 
crew besieging him 
with questions. He waved them off wearily, and said, "I'm fine, really. I need 
some time though. 
Number One, you have the bridge for a while longer." 


Riker said, "Captain, I think you should be escorted to sick bay." 


"No, Will; I'll go let Beverly take a look at me in a little while. Right now, I 
need not to be disturbed." 
And Picard returned to his waiting companion. He felt a compelling urge to cover 
his own humiliation by 
asserting his authority. 


As the doors slid shut, he declared, "Listen Q, omnipotent or not, if you're 
going to stay on this ship 
you have to abide by certain conditions." 


"Yes, Captain." 


"First of all, you have to respect others' privacy. You can't just keep 
materializing in people's rooms. 
Try announcing your entrance first. There's a device known as a door chime." 


"Yes, Captain." 


"You have to make an effort to be civil to and respect the members of the crew. 
You may be 
omnipotent, but you are not a Starfleet officer, and you can't simply take over 
and start ordering 
people around." 


"Yes, Captain." 


"You can't go around playing your little tricks on people and disrupting the 
ship. My crew is here 
because they have jobs to do. If you want to show off, you may do so when your 
intended audience is on 
their own time, and only with their permission." 


"Yes, Captain. I do so love it when you speak sternly to me." 


"You have to . . . Q! I hate it when you lie there acting as if you're not 
listening to me." 


"Would this be an improvement?" Q was lying in the identical position, but 
suspended two feet above the 
couch. 


"Q, your parlor tricks . . . " 


"Amuse the hell out of you, but you hate to admit it." Q sat down on couch, 
looking attentive, and Picard 
couldn't repress a quick grin. "Please continue, Captain." 


"Fine. You have to realize that I am the Captain. I can't have you undermining 
my authority on my ship 
and questioning my decisions. Nor can I have you simply taking over when you 
think we're doing 
something the wrong way. Humans learn from their mistakes, as I am in the 
process of doing right now, 
and you have to allow us to make them." 


"Yes Captain, I will obey your every command, and I will defer most respectfully 
to your *august* 
authority." Q's voice then took on a serious edge. "But I have two conditions of 
my own. One, if I ever 
perceive you and this ship being in a life-threatening situation, and I perceive 
that that situation is 
beyond you and your crew's ability to handle it, I am going to step in, and I'm 
going to take over. I don't 
think mistakes have a whole lot of educational value if you're too dead to learn 
from them." 


"Understood," noted Picard. "I would ask that you give us every opportunity to 
try to solve whatever 
the problem is ourselves, but if it's clear that we cannot, then feel free to 
give us the benefit of your 
powers. What's your other condition?" 


"Honesty. I want you to be honest with me, Picard. The most advanced Betazoid's 
telepathic powers are 
nothing compared to mine. Not only can I read your mind and your feelings, but I 
can read every layer 
of your mind, conscious, subconscious, unconscious, repressed, whatever. I have 
access to every 
memory of everything that has ever happened to you and everything you have ever 
thought or felt. I 
can explain to you motives for actions you've taken that you're not even 
remotely aware of on a 
conscious level. I can replay what you were aware of in the womb after you 
became at all sentient. I 
can read you from the inside out and all the way through. In fact, I *rebuilt* 
your mind for you after 
you surrendered the powers back; you wouldn't *believe* what abysmal shape you 
were in. I know you 
better than anybody else does, including yourself. I will make a real effort to 
respect your privacy, 
difficult as that may be for me, but when I see you playing games with me, I'm 
going to call you on it. 
For instance, at the moment, you're trying to convince me that you're barely 
tolerating my presence on 
'your ship.' You're trying to make me think that if I screw up at all, you're 
going to demand my 
departure. But inside, inside, Jean-Luc, you are overjoyed to have me here, not 
to mention grateful 
that I saved you from your own worst impulses. How about, 'Welcome aboard, Q. 
Make yourself at 
home'?" 


"I figured you'd do so whether I said so or not," replied Picard, who was 
feeling more than a little 
disconcerted at Q's description of his telepathic capabilities and didn't know 
what to make of Q's claims 
about putting him back together. 


"All I'm saying, Jean-Luc, is that I would appreciate it if, when we're alone at 
least, you stop being 
such a stiff, when you and both I know you genuinely enjoy my company and the 
diversion I provide. 
Remember when I took you back into your own past? You had a fine time confiding 
in me about your 
youthful misadventures. I used to think you lacked a sense of humor, but what 
I've realized is that you 
just repress it most of the time. The stern schoolmaster routine doesn't go over 
well, Jean-Luc; it just 
brings out the worst in me. I'd rather I *didn't* have to invade your mind to 
find out that you're glad to 
see me; I'd like to hear it once in a while. Just remember, you can't fool me, 
so don't try."


"You're 
right, Q, I'm sorry, but I think we've both fallen into patterns of how we react 
to each other from our 
first meetings. You must realize that the crew will only accept your presence 
here if they feel like I'm 
keeping you in line, and even though we both know I have no way of actually 
doing so, I'd appreciate it if 
you'd help me sustain the illusion. In turn, I will try to relax my demeanor in 
private." 


"It's a deal. My *public* behavior will be exemplary." 


"Well, don't be offended if I say I'll believe it when I see it, but . . . Q, I 
really am happy to have you 
here. I don't know how I can ever express my gratitude for all you've done for 
me, but you've proved 
yourself a true friend, and you're right that I do find you a most entertaining 
companion, even if it's 
often against my better judgment. Welcome aboard the Enterprise." 


"Thank-you, Captain. I feel *most* honored to be here. By the way, you should 
know that I have 
established a permanent telepathic link with you. That way, even if I'm not 
around, I'll know 
immediately if you decide to go wreaking havoc through the galaxy again. The bad 
news, for you, is that 
I can read your mind even if I'm on the other side of the galaxy." 


Picard went slightly pale at this reminder of Q's telepathic ability. 


"The good news is," the entity continued brightly, "that if you ever need me, 
you can just summon me 
in your mind, and I'll be back, literally, in a flash." 


Picard responded thoughtfully, "Why is it, Q, that whenever you tell me 
something designed to be 
reassuring, you always have to include information that is unsettling, to say 
the least?" 


"Well, mon Capitaine, I don't want you to take my newly-acquired virtue for 
granted. For all my good 
intentions, there are some temptations I'm simply unable to resist. Self-
discipline has never been my 
strong point." 


"Q, you agreed . . . " 


"I agreed not to undermine your authority in front of the crew except in life-
threatening situations that 
are out of your control. I meant that. But that doesn't mean I'm never going to 
give you a hard time. I 
like giving you a hard time--it's *so* satisfying, and the results are always 
*so* entertaining. But if I 
do, I promise it will be in a way that no one else is aware of it." //For 
instance, we can carry on entire 
conversations without opening our mouths.// Q had stopped speaking aloud, but 
Picard heard every 
word clearly, in Q's voice, inside his head. //You can answer me the same way.// 


Picard thought back his response, //I have no idea how this is going to turn 
out, but I do know one thing. 
Having you on board the Enterprise certainly won't be boring.// 


//I'll make sure of that, Picard. Now would you like to show me my quarters? I 
know you have work to 
do, and I'm going to be kind enough to let you get back to it.// 


"Work, hell," said Picard out loud, "I need a drink and some time to myself. You 
understand, don't 
you?" 


"Of course. Tough day at the office. I understand." 


* * * 


After showing Q to his new quarters, Picard had returned to his own. Collapsing 
with more than usual 
lassitude into an armchair, Picard felt himself enveloped in a rising panic. He 
was horrified at what he 
had almost done, but he was more urgently beset with a sudden terror at the 
notion of having Q remain 
on board the Enterprise. It was clear enough that Q had been trying to help him; 
their visit to the 
Continuum confirmed Picard's dawning realization ever since Q had saved his life 
that Q really did have 
some concern for him and was willling, as he now had on two occasions, to 
intervene between Picard 
and his less humane superiors. But at the same time, Picard could not forget 
that Q was an 
unpredictable, capricious, and volatile being with a ferocious temper and very 
little tolerance for 
human frailties. Promises of good behavior notwithstanding, there was no telling 
what he might do if 
sufficiently provoked. //I have to trust him not to harm me or anyone else//, 
thought Picard. 
//There's absolutely nothing I can do about it, other than asking, very 
politely, for him to leave.// 
Picard's discomfort was further exacerbated by the realization that he really 
did *not* want Q to 
leave. He was feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself, and Q, surprised 
as Picard was to admit 
it, seemed to offer a kind of support and reassurance Picard could not get 
anywhere else. No one else on 
board would have any real understanding of what he had gone though, except, 
perhaps, Riker, but Riker 
had not been granted anywhere near the power Picard had wielded. 


Picard's feeling of dependence on Q frightened him further. Q's presence on the 
ship would be a constant 
reminder of his own inadequacies. Normally he felt secure enough in his own 
abilities and in his faith in 
human progress to defy Q's derision and misanthropy. But now he was overwhelmed 
by the conviction 
that Q may have been right after all. Picard jumped up and began to pace; 
usually, even in emotional 
distress, he was much more contained, but his feelings about Q were in such 
conflict that his anxiety 
needed an outlet. Suddenly, he stopped pacing, having been brought up short by 
the realization that Q 
could have been following this entire internal debate. Picard recalled that his 
anxiety had started to 
rise when Q had described his mind-reading abilities. *That* was what he was 
really worried about. 
Any damage Q might cause if he lost his temper Q could as easily repair, but the 
thought of the total 
lack of privacy Picard was now subject to horrified him. At any moment, Q might 
be reading his mind, 
probing his thoughts, unearthing his self-doubt, his insecurity, his areas of 
vulnerability. Most of the 
time he could repress undesirable emotions; Picard was an extremely disciplined 
individual. But Q 
would have access to everything he was thinking or feeling, even what he needed 
to push to the back of 
his mind. This thought was initially terrifying to Picard. He felt the knot of 
panic in his chest begin to 
tighten even more. 


But part of Picard's self-discipline was the capacity to force himself to deal 
with whatever he couldn't 
change. He remembered that Q did not need to be on the Enterprise to read his 
mind; therefore, Q had 
probably already probed him on any number of occasions without him knowing it. 
Picard couldn't see 
any reason to believe that Q had used that knowledge against him. And Q had 
promised to try, at least, 
to respect his privacy. Picard sighed. He had the ability to see multiple sides 
of most issues, and it 
occurred to him that this particular power of Q's had the potential to be fairly 
liberating for him. Even 
with Beverly, Picard could rarely entirely relax and be himself. His own natural 
reserve and his 
position as Captain necessitated that he keep a certain amount of distance from 
his crew, even those he 
felt closest to. He had to be able to wield his authority, to give orders and 
expect they would be 
obeyed, regardless of the feelings of the crew member about those orders or any 
personal relationship. 
Since Q was, by definition, a being he could not begin to control at all, there 
was no need to maintain the 
reserve and distance his command required. And as Q apparently already knew him 
inside out, he had 
nothing to lose. //Well//, he thought to himself, in a mood of resigned 
determination, //since I have no 
way of getting rid of Q, and I can't do anything about his powers, I might as 
well make the best of it.// 


Suddenly a voice in his head startled him. //Very good, Jean-Luc. You've just 
learned the first lesson 
about dealing with me. Have the grace to accept what you 
can't do anything about and make the most of what I can offer you.// 


//And there's another lesson, too!// snapped Picard in reply. 


//What's that?// 


//You have absolutely no manners!// 


//I do so! I just have horrendous manners//, retorted Q, but genially. //I 
really will try to keep out of 
matters that don't pertain to me, but it's impossible for 
me not to read your mind when I know you're thinking about me. That's just 
inevitable, Jean-Luc.// 


"Wonderful," muttered Picard, but he couldn't help smiling to himself. Almost as 
much as his self-
discipline, Picard's sense of humor, although often kept under wraps, was his 
saving grace. The 
absurdity of trying to deal with as powerful and as unpredictable and as alien a 
being as Q on a daily 
basis struck his fancy. It wouldn't be easy, but it was bound to be educational, 
if nothing else. Feeling 
reconciled, for the time being at least, to the presence of his omnipotent 
visitor, Picard moved to his 
terminal in order to inform Starfleet of this development. 


* * * 


Despite his undeveloped sense of empathy, even Q could figure out that Picard 
was going to need some 
time to absorb the events of the day and get back to the business of running his 
ship and being an 
ordinary mortal again. He spent several hours decorating and redecorating his 
quarters, selecting and 
rejecting furniture from a variety of time periods, styles, and civilizations. 
When he was finally 
satisfied with the result, he proceeded to the next order of business--creating 
a suitable wardrobe 
befitting a visiting dignitary (//That'll be the day//, he thought to himself) 
from the Q Continuum. Q 
really was anxious to give Picard some evidence of his good intentions, and he 
decided to stop wearing 
the Starfleet uniform that irritated the Captain so much. As far as Q was 
concerned, he *had* earned 
it; after all he had more knowledge and ability than every Starfleet officer put 
together, but it seemed 
a minor concession to make. Q's taste in clothes was like his taste in 
furniture--not excessively 
ostentatious or flamboyant, but designed to attract notice. He dressed in an 
eye-catching purple and 
black ensemble, then he had to turn to the serious business of figuring out what 
he would do with 
himself when the Enterprise was not engaged in some sort of entertaining 
adventure and when Picard 
was not available to amuse him. 


Outside of Picard, Q was most intrigued by Data. The incongruity of the 
android's clear superiority and 
his intense desire to be more human was puzzling to Q, and anyway, Data was the 
only one who could 
come close to matching a portion of Q's knowledge. He resolved to cultivate Data 
as a friend, 
particularly as he knew Data was less likely than the other crew members to 
prejudge him or judge him 
based on his earlier actions. But meanwhile, he thought he had better not go 
announcing his presence to 
Data or anyone else until Picard was ready. 


He decided to see if any of the games and challenges in the computer could 
possibly be any match for 
him if he didn't use his powers, but limited himself to the human form he had 
adopted. Even so, he had 
created himself in an ideal form, his reflexes were perfect, and his 
intelligence was awesome. He 
slaughtered the computer at the highest level of every game he tried. //Bor-
ing//, thought Q to 
himself, //maybe I'll try some of the fencing and martial arts programs on the 
holodeck one of these 
days.// 


He had cast himself on the bed, in a position of utter boredom and lassitude, 
when the door chimed. It 
was Picard. "I'm sorry, Q, I didn't mean to keep you a prisoner in here, 
although I must say I'm really 
impressed with what you've done with the place." 


"Interior decorating is a hobby of mine. It's good to see you, Captain. I didn't 
think you'd want me 
wandering around the ship, having touching reunions with my old chums, before 
you had a chance to 
think of how you were going to inform your crew about your change of heart. 
They're bound to be a 
little puzzled given your previous reluctance to welcome me as a long-term 
guest." 


"No doubt. I've called a meeting of my senior staff, and I would, of course, 
like you to be there. By the 
way, Q, what happened to the uniform?" 


"I got the distinct impression that you never liked me wearing a Starfleet 
uniform, and I also thought it 
might smooth my relations with your crew a little if I didn't wear it. You 
humans are so touchy about 
things like uniforms and rank and all such trivia." Q was just about incapable 
of making a considerate 
gesture without relapsing into his usual sarcastic mode. Taking into account how 
others felt was pretty 
new to him, and he didn't want to be accused of going soft. 


"Thank-you, Q," said Picard, "that was very considerate of you. I appreciate 
your making concessions 
to our fragile human egos." 


Both men smiled; this type of banter was already growing natural to them. And 
Picard understood 
perfectly well that Q prided himself on his incorrigibility, his defiance of 
authority, and his insistence 
that he was a law unto himself. Instead of his usual mode of deriding human 
inferiority and making 
grandiose displays of his powers, Q was, instead, going to have publicly to 
submit to Picard's authority 
and make an effort to generate goodwill among a group of people who were bound 
to resent his 
presence. Given the image he'd been projecting of himself so far, it was 
understandable that Q would be 
embarrassed about making concessions to a species he had previously treated with 
utter contempt, and 
it was understandable that he would try to cover that embarrassment with 
sarcasm. As far as Picard 
was concerned, Q could be as sarcastic as he liked as long as he didn't 
interfere with his running of the 
ship. 


"Your amateur psychologizing is getting a little annoying, Picard," snapped Q, 
who had been unable to 
resist reading the Captain's mind, particularly as he knew he was the subject of 
Picard's ruminations. 
"You can't possibly begin to account for my feelings and motivations, so don't 
try. And if you could, you 
be overwhelmed by what you'd find out. If you're thinking of taking up 
counseling, I'd suggest you don't 
quit your day job." 


Picard couldn't help smiling. Q's embarrassment and discomfiture were so utterly 
plain that they were 
written all over him. "Listen, my friend," he said, "I really appreciate what 
you're trying to do. I don't 
exactly understand why you're making this effort to accomodate yourself to us, 
but it does mean a lot 
to me." 


As they walked out the door, Q announced grandly, "Apres vous, mon Capitaine," 
and touched Picard 
lightly on the arm. Picard took in his breath sharply, then hastily tried to act 
as though nothing had 
happened. //Gotcha, mon Capitaine//, thought Q to himself. 


Q really was anxious to please Picard, although he was not at all ready to admit 
how anxious, and he 
really did want to make as easy as possible for the Captain to handle his advent 
on the Enterprise. To 
that end, he was willing to humble himself, to make proofs of his sincerity, 
such as shedding the 
offending Starfleet uniform, but he had no intention of humiliating himself. He 
might make concessions 
to these humans, and he might restrain his behavior, but he wasn't going to let 
them forget who he was 
either. For Q, to be taken for granted was death. He wanted to able to electrify 
a room every time he 
entered, and to do so, he had to convey a certain aura of danger and 
unpredictability even when 
behaving like a model citizen. 


He definitely hadn't appreciated Picard trying to analyze his behavior though. Q 
much preferred to be 
the one in control, and it perfectly suited him that he should be able to read 
Picard's mind without being 
read in return. Picard's ability to pinpoint his emotional confusion was 
annoying. There was nothing Q 
hated worse than being patronized, even indulgently. He restored his own 
equanimity, quickly, 
however, by reminding himself that even if Picard was getting some insight into 
his behavior and 
emotions, his own ability to penetrate every recess of Picard's mind, to unearth 
every thought and 
emotion, gave him a distinct advantage. With a few notable exceptions, including 
his interlude with 
Vash, which he hadn't taken dreadfully seriously (until she had decided to leave 
*him*--the nerve of 
that woman), his romantic relationships had been confined to members of his own 
kind. 


Although some members of the Continuum seemed capable of an eternity-long 
commitment, more often 
than not, Q relationships tended not to last more than a couple centuries. Since 
both beings involved 
always knew everything that was going on in the others' mind, a telepathic bond 
that was strengthened 
by proximity and emotional connection, it was impossible to conceal one's 
ambivalence about the other, 
those inevitable moments of revulsion when, despite all one's positive feelings 
the rest of the time, one 
looked at the other and and inwardly gasped, //My God, what have I done?// The 
ability of both 
partners to penetrate the other telepathically was terribly exciting in the 
initial stages of a 
relationship, and Q himself used his superior telepathic skills as a means of 
seduction, but after a 
century or two or three, it became harder and harder to gloss over the 
disillusion and disenchantment, 
every instance of which was instantly revealed to the other. Q particularly 
resented the lack of mental 
privacy, even though he had very little respect for others' desire for it, and 
he usually spent his time 
after the inevitable conclusion of a relationship wandering the galaxy with no 
fixed goal other than 
being away from his own kind and keeping his mind to himself. At least now, he 
would definitely have 
the upper hand . . . he hoped. 


* * * 


As they walked to the observation lounge, Q, as usual, felt impatient, a 
paradoxical quality in an 
immortal being, but a large component of Q's character. He would have just as 
soon teleported both of 
them there, since walking seemed like a waste of time, but he had enough 
understanding to know Picard 
would want to enter the room on his own power. 


"Jean-Luc?" said Q, "I have a small problem of my own that perhaps you can help 
me with. I've 
demolished every game in your computer, and I'm guessing the holodeck isn't 
going to offer me much 
more challenge, even if I restrain my powers. I already know everything about 
the workings of the 
Enterprise, and while I have some suggestions, I get the feeling they wouldn't 
be greeted with universal 
acclaim just yet. What I really need is a genuine challenge to occupy me. Any 
suggestions?" 


Picard didn't know what to make of Q's asking him for advice, but he did get a 
flash of inspiration. 
"Well, I do have an idea . . . but no, that probably wouldn't work." 


"Jean-Luc, you'd better say what you're thinking, or I'll just get it out of you 
my way." 


"Good point. What I was thinking was that if you genuinely do want a challenge, 
you try to reconcile 
your differences with Guinan. Your tenure aboard this ship will be a lot more 
enjoyable for everyone if 
you can make friends with her." 


"Jeez, Picard, I wanted a challenge, not an unattainable goal." 


"Well, my omnipotent friend, if you think you can't do it . . . " 


"Oh, I'll win her over; it just might take me a few decades." 


"You're immortal, remember? You could spare a few decades in cultivating what 
could be a very 
valuable friendship for you." 


"Well, I'll give it a try, Jean-Luc. Thank-you. My life has purpose now." 


They had reached the observation lounge, but Q paused for a moment. //Jean-Luc, 
I want you to know 
that I'm really going to make an effort to get along with your 
crew and behave myself. As you've figured out, trying to adapt myself to others 
doesn't come easy to 
me. I'm used to being utterly self-absorbed and getting away 
with it. So I'll do my best, but if you don't expect too much you won't be 
disappointed.// 


Picard replied in the same fashion, //No one expects you to be a saint, least of 
all me. But just the fact 
that you're making the effort to interact with others instead 
of merely dominating them will make a difference. I don't expect Worf or Riker 
to become your best 
friends right away, but give it time. Data will react to you with a completely 
open mind, and Deanna is 
not one to hold onto grudges if she sees you trying to change. It's inevitable 
that they won't trust you at 
first; you've caused us 
a lot of pain and grief, and you've repeatedly insulted us as a species and as 
individuals. But I believe 
you're sincere in your efforts to reform, and eventually, they 
will too.// 


//Yes, dad//, sighed Q in return, //I suppose this is the kind of situation 
where profuse apologies for 
prior behavior are in order. Just don't expect me to enjoy 
it.// 


Picard put a hand on Q's shoulder, //I know, mon ami. I'm convinced of your 
sincerity, although that's 
probably one the last things I would have imagined myself 
saying to you. Ready to face the lions?// 


//Maybe.// And they walked in together. 


The senior officers were not only surprised to see Q walk in with Picard, but 
they were more surprised 
at how relaxed their Captain was with his erstwhile 
antagonist. Picard gestured to a chair, and Q thought it best to sit there 
rather than reclining on the 
table or hovering in the air. He looked grim and felt tense. 
//How could I possibly be so transfixed by a human, of all things, to degrade 
myself like this?// 
thought Q, //I hope Q isn't watching me now--I'd never hear the 
end of it.// At this reminder that he could be under the observation of his 
fellow Qs, Q erected a type 
of telepathic zone of privacy around himself; the Continuum 
would not observe or communicate with him except in an emergency or unless he 
was really drawing 
attention to himself with large-scale misbehavior. He glanced 
skyward momentarily, //Bye, guys. I'm on my own.// He then crossed one leg over 
another, leaned 
back in his chair, lightly pressed his fingertips together, 
tent-fashion, and waited. 


Picard spoke, "I've called this meeting to inform you that Q will be remaining 
on board the Enterprise 
for an extended visit. I have informed Starfleet that I consider this an 
opportunity for the exchange of 
knowledge and understanding, and after I explained the circumstances, they 
agree. I understand that our 
prior experiences with Q have not been conducive to the development of 
harmonious relations, but I 
believe Q to be sincere in his desire to get to know us, without causing us 
trouble or interfering with 
the running of the ship . . ." 


"On what basis, Captain?" snapped Riker as Worf simultaneously opined, "I don't 
believe anything he 
says." 


Q shot the Klingon a look of pure menace that froze Worf momentarily and left 
him furious with himself 
for feeling fear, but Q did not speak or otherwise move. //Self-control, that's 
the ticket, self-
control//, he thought to himself. Q also noted that, Picard did not reveal the 
least bit of concern that Q 
might vaporize Worf; a quick check revealed that Picard really didn't *feel* 
concern either. //Jean-
Luc's got more confidence in me than I have in myself; that's a new one//, 
thought Q, //best try to 
justify it.// 


"I am not willing to explain the circumstances, but Q got me out of an extremely 
dangerous situation 
when I was absent from the ship during the conflict with the Cardassians. He 
acted out of concern for 
the well-being of others as well as myself, and he proved himself a true friend 
to me. We might be at 
war right now if it weren't for his actions. And I might add, that this is not 
the first occasion that Q has 
acted in our best interest. You may not like his methods or his demeanor, but 
we, and I in particular, 
owe him a debt of gratitude. In addition, Q has secured a promise from the 
Continuum that they will 
cease to put us on trial; they will no longer interfere with us or set up tests 
for us to pass. They will 
continue to observe us closely, through Q, and I'm afraid they have good reason 
to do so, but they will 
keep hands off. Q has been our advocate in this regard, and this isn't the first 
time he has interceded 
between us and them. He has given me his word that he will respect the chain of 
command on this ship 
and will not interfere with our missions or operations unless we're in a life-
threatening situation that 
has escalated out of our control. In that case, I would venture to observe we 
ought to be grateful for his 
interference." 


Crusher looked surprised, Troi was trying to discern whether Picard had been 
brainwashed or not (she 
concluded he hadn't), Worf was muttering to himself, and Riker and La Forge 
looked unconvinced, but 
Data remarked, "Q, I observed that you are no longer wearing a Starfleet 
uniform. I take that to be an 
emblem of your intention to redefine your relationship with us." 


"Quite right, Commander. That is my intention." Q stood up, and looked around at 
a conference table full 
of suspicious faces. "Thank-you, Jean-Luc, for your kind words in attesting to 
my character. Look, I 
know you have good reason not to trust me, and you have good reason for anger at 
my actions in the 
past. I'm sorry. Believe me, apologizing is not a skill that comes naturally to 
me, but I am indeed sorry. 
I realize I'm acting in what seems to you to be a completely uncharacteristic 
fashion. I'll confess that I 
don't entirely believe it myself sometimes. But I am completely sincere in the 
promises I made to the 
Captain to be on my best behavior. I don't know if I'm capable of being a 
completely model citizen, but 
I'm going to try. In addition to my commission to observe you from the 
Continuum, I have my own 
personal interest in human behavior. You were right a long time ago, Riker; we 
are fascinated and 
intrigued by you. You have qualities that are undeveloped in us or that we have 
dissipated, and you've 
provoked our curiosity. The Continuum does take it upon themselves to oversee 
the development and 
evolution of what we see as 'inferior' species; I realize that this sounds 
imperialistic and patronizing to 
you, but we do maintain a kind of balance and order in the universe in ways that 
I couldn't begin to 
explain. Besides which, I have developed a fondness for this ship and crew, and 
this is where I really 
want to be. I've realized that the only way I'm going to begin to understand 
humans is to get to know 
them as individuals." To himself he mused, //Not bad, if I say so myself, and 
not *entirely* untrue. It 
would hardly be politic to announce that the sole reason I'm here is to pursue 
their noble Captain.// 


Riker broke in, interrupting his musings, "I'm sure that's all very well and 
good for you, Q--you'll get 
to satisfy your curiosity about us. But what do we get out of it?" 


Q turned, gazing at Riker as if he were examining an annoying insect. Slowly and 
emphatically, he 
replied, "*I do windows.*" 


At this Picard had to fight to repress a grin. 


Q continued, "You, if anyone, Commander Riker, *ought* to be able to figure out 
the benefits I can 
offer you." Q tapped his head, "Just try thinking for a change instead of 
reacting. But since I *have* to 
spell it out for the intellectually challenged among us, I will. In the case of 
certain species you will 
encounter, forewarned will be forearmed. In other cases, you will encounter 
beings that are so utterly 
different in composition from you that you will not be able to find any way to 
communicate with them. I 
can help you there. There are natural phenomena, spatial and temporal anomalies, 
quantum distortions 
in the fabric of the universe, and so on that will utterly overwhelm your 
instruments. I can help you 
there too. There are beings out there more powerful in certain respects than we 
are. I'm willing to 
share with you my knowledge and my powers when you have need of them. You have 
to realize, as well, 
that having me here renders your ship virtually indestructible; I can't protect 
you against everything 
that's out there, but I can protect you from most of it. And I might add, you're 
just going to have to 
trust me and take me at my word, because you can't get rid of me." He folded his 
arms and smiled. 


Troi was the first to speak. "To the extent that I can read him at all, I read 
him as sincere." 


"I appreciate your confidence in me, Counselor," replied Q. "I am being sincere, 
but in all honesty, I 
need to tell you that you should never rely on your empathic abilities with a Q. 
I'm perfectly capable of 
making you believe that I'm feeling whatever I want you to believe that I'm 
feeling. And there are a 
good many species out there, less powerful than us, but with the ability to 
block out empathic receiving 
or to project false emotions in a way that would deceive the most powerful 
Betazoid. That's just one 
example of what awaits you as you explore further into the galaxy. And by the 
way, Counselor, I can 
teach you how to screen out your mother if you like." 


Troi was not entirely surprised; she had been thinking, as Q spoke, about how 
convenient it would be to 
be able to escape her mother's scrutiny on occasion. "Well, Q," she laughed, "I 
may have to take you up 
on that!" 


Data spoke up. "Having Q as an ally could potentially be very beneficial to us. 
And as he says, we have 
no way of physically removing him from the ship. I believe that I could 
certainly learn a good deal from 
having him here. There is so much that we do not know. The knowledge he offers 
and the interaction 
between his species and ours are precisely compatible with our mission. This is 
an excellent 
opportunity, and I would like to accept Q's offer to get to know him better." 


//Two down//, thought Q, then turned to Data, "Thank you, my professor of the 
humanities. Not only 
did you save my life several years ago, but you have 
shown an open mind. I anticipated that you and the Counselor would be the most 
willing to give me the 
benefit of the doubt. As to the rest of you, you're just going 
to have to put me to the proof of what I've promised. You don't have a choice." 


Riker turned to the Captain, "We still don't know what happened to you during 
our confrontation with 
the Cardassians. Perhaps our confidence in our guest would 
be enhanced if we understood the circumstances you were referring to earlier." 


"Undoubtedly, that is the case, Number One," replied Picard, "but I have reasons 
for keeping those to 
myself." Picard glanced briefly at Q and spoke mentally, 


//Q, I need to talk to you in private after this.// 


//I'm yours to command, mon Capitaine.//  A quick smile flitted over both their 
faces. Troi was 
observing both closely. She had sensed that some type of communication had taken 
place between Q and 
the Captain and that there was a trust and harmony between them she had never 
sensed before, but the 
content of the exchange was hidden from her. 


"I have a question," noted La Forge, "Q, did you have anything to do with 
disabling our weapons 
systems?" 


"Indeed. Yours and all the others. The Cardassians were about to violate their 
own deadline by several 
minutes, so it seemed prudent to me to allow both sides the opportunity to cool 
off. I'm sorry to have 
created so much extra work for you, but it seemed like the right thing to do at 
the time. If you like, I 
can expedite your repairs." 


"I appreciate the offer," said La Forge softly, "but my staff is learning a lot 
in the process of putting 
everything back together. They could use the experience. If we need to get out 
of here in a hurry, 
though, I'll certainly ask for your help." 


Q nodded in acknowledgment, but Riker was still fuming. "How do we know you 
didn't start the 
confrontation in the first place? If you're looking for gratitude you're not 
going to get it." 


Picard was about to speak, but Q gave him a glance indicating that he could 
handle this. Q spoke, "Well, 
you can't know, can you? If you can't bring yourself to trust me, there's no way 
you can ever know 
anything about me with any certainty. That's just something you'll have to get 
used to. And believe me, 
I'm not interested in *your* gratitude, Commander. If it was just *your* life I 
had to worry about, I 
probably would have let the Cardassians fire away." 


Picard spoke again. "Well, I *am* grateful for Q's intervention, and the rest of 
you should be as well. Q 
is now our guest. While I hope you will all eventually afford yourselves of the 
opportunity to broaden 
your horizons, I leave that up to you. I expect that you will treat him with 
cordiality and otherwise go 
about your business as you normally would. Dismissed." 
  


Chapter 5 


As the senior staff filed out of the room, most of them suspicious of Q and 
surprised at Picard's 
behavior, Troi lingered a moment. "Q, could I really learn to screen out 
telepathic reading?" 


"Undoubtedly, Counselor. You couldn't learn to block my reading you, I'm 
afraid," he smiled, "but I can 
teach you to be impervious to the most powerful humanoid telepath. I could also 
help you enhance your 
own ability, but you should think about it for a while. The temptation to read 
others' minds is awfully 
hard to resist, as I can testify, and you might find that having more advanced 
telepathic skills could 
cause some professional conflicts of interest for you." 


"That's fascinating," replied Troi. "I would definitely like to work on the 
first. I'd really appreciate 
that." 


After Troi left the observation lounge, Picard slumped back heavily against the 
conference table, put 
his head in his hand, and sighed. "I believe you could use a change of scene, 
Captain," said Q. "Would you 
care to accompany me to my parlor?" Picard nodded. In a moment they had 
materialized on top of the 
saucer section of the Enterprise. Having experienced Q's omnipotence, Picard was 
not surprised that Q 
was able to regulate the temperature around him and provide air for him to 
breathe. Picard glanced at 
the structure of the orbiting Starbase, then positioned himself so he could gaze 
at the planet below. The 
view was breathtaking, and as he watched the shifting patterns caused by clouds 
moving over oceans 
and continents, he felt the knot in his chest begin to loosen. 


"It's remarkable," said Picard as they sat down. "We always see space through 
some kind of filter or 
frame--sensors, viewscreens, windows. It's an entirely different sensation to be 
simply outside the 
ship with no protective gear. It's very liberating." 


Q didn't have the heart to tell Picard that even a view like the one he was 
experiencing now lost its 
charm after a few centuries. He could tell that the Captain was absorbed in his 
own problems. At that 
moment, Riker's voice burst from Picard's comm badge: "Riker to Picard, Captain, 
are you all right? 
What has he done with you?" 


"Yes Will, I'm fine. Q and I are sitting on top of the saucer section." 


"Captain, I'm concerned for your safety. You should return immediately to the 
ship." 


Picard laughed. "Really, Number One, you have nothing to be concerned about. And 
the view up here is 
spectacular. If you mind your manners, perhaps Q will be so good as to share it 
with you some time. 
Picard out." 


Q fell over laughing. "Jean-Luc, you never cease to amaze me. Do you have any 
idea how they're going 
to react to your taking my side against Riker's? Small wonders never cease. 
Would you like to know 
what they're saying? Riker is consulting with Data at the moment." At this Q did 
an absolutely perfect 
imitation of Riker's voice and inflection: "Data, is it possible that Q has 
brainwashed the Captain in 
some way?" 


"Well, Q," laughed Picard, "I've been wondering that myself." 


"You wound me, Jean-Luc. Data seems to trust me, at any rate." At this, Q 
switched into Data's voice: 
"With Q I believe anything is possible, Commander, but I see no evidence that 
the Captain has been 
mentally affected in any way or that Q is exerting any influence on him. I think 
it is more plausible that 
Q meant what he said in the meeting, that he wants to get to know us better. 
Perhaps he has just 
figured out the right way to go about it." Q said the last few words slowly and 
thoughtfully. 


"You know, Q," said Picard, "I believe Data understands you better than the rest 
of us. At any rate, I 
wish you'd stop eavesdropping on them and listen to me." 


"I can do both, Jean-Luc. Give me some credit. But if you want me to tune them 
out, I will; it's just so 
hard to resist listening in when I know I'm the topic of conversation." 


It was Picard's turn to laugh, "Do you have any idea, Q, just how human you 
are?" 


Q glared at his companion, "Be that as it may, I believe we came up here to 
discuss *your* 
shortcomings, not mine." 


Picard sighed, "I feel awkward asking you to be my confidante like this, but . . 
. " 


"But you're devastated by what happened yesterday, and you're too embarrassed 
and ashamed to tell 
any of your crew about it, and so I'm the only one you can talk to. It's not 
exactly an overwhelming 
vote of confidence, but I'll take what I can get." 


"Q, if you're reading my mind, you know perfectly well that I *do* trust you. I 
understand that you've 
been operating on my behalf for some time. I just don't know why, and that makes 
me uneasy." 


"Look," said Q loftily, "I'm not trying to be condescending but I couldn't 
possibly explain my reasons in 
terms *you* could understand," which was true enough, he thought to himself. 
Picard would have been 
confounded if he had any inkling of the nature of Q's interest in him. Q 
continued, "Either trust me or 
not. But here I am, ready and willing to lend an ear. That's what you're looking 
for, isn't it?" 


"Quite so." Picard sighed again and shook his head. He still felt uneasy, but Q 
really was the only one he 
felt he could talk to about this. "I'm still flabbergasted, both by the reasons 
I insisted on accepting the 
Continuum's offer and by what my intentions were. They were originally good, I 
believe. I really 
wanted to use my power to promote some kind of peace, to find some way to get 
both sides to 
withdraw, maybe even talk. And I was frustrated because all of a sudden I had 
all this power, but I 
really didn't have the mental capacity to understand what to do with it. There 
were too many choices, 
too many possibilities. I had no way of sorting them out. It must have been 
similar to the overload of 
information Data experienced when he first became sentient, and just the 
opposite of how you must 
have felt with your intelligence intact but your powers removed a few years 
ago." 


"Don't remind me, " shuddered Q. 


Picard continued, "The anger I felt when I saw the Cardassian prison camps first 
hand was unlike 
anything I've ever experienced. The memory of having been tortured myself 
absolutely flooded back--
Q, you can have no idea of the helplessness and humiliation." Picard paused, 
clearly shaken, and tried to 
collect himself. He was soon steadied by the firm hand of Q on his shoulder, 
took a deep breath, and 
explained, "Instead of the helpless anger I felt then, I was actually in a 
position to do something about 
it. And, confused as I was by all the choices and possibilities, I went for the 
simplest solution I could 
think of, the most fundamental and childish way of defining the problem. The 
Cardassians were evil and 
needed to be punished. When you disarmed all the ships, I was even more furious 
that I hadn't thought of 
that, and my anger got transferred to you." 


//I'll say//, thought Q, so Picard "heard" him. 


"Well, Q, I saw you as an obstacle to my own solution, and I felt you were 
mocking me. With all the 
choices I had, I was so barraged, the only clear sensation I could register was 
anger. It almost felt as 
though if I could just dissipate some of the sensations that were overwhelming 
me with a burst of 
absolute destruction, I could channel my powers into something more positive. I 
guess I thought I could, 
in godlike fashion, force a transformation on the Cardassian culture. It's just 
so unimaginable that I 
could have acted in a way that violates all my moral beliefs. Q, I really was 
trying to kill you! I don't 
understand why you've apparently forgiven me." 


"You weren't trying to kill me, Jean-Luc--you weren't yourself. It's not 
unimaginable at all, that you 
would act in that way. I think you need to make a distinction here. Once you got 
the powers what you did 
with them was wrong, of course, but I think it was inevitable. Nobody could be 
handed absolute power 
all of a sudden and have the capacity to handle it, especially you. You've 
always had a sense of yourself 
as fated to do great things. You've accomplished a tremendous amount for a 
human--you've solved 
problems most humans would not be able to, you've thought creatively in a way 
most humans aren't 
capable of, and you've endured what most humans would have been destroyed by. 
But you will never be 
satisfied; you will always be reaching for more. That's a good quality for a 
human, because given your 
very limited capacities, you wouldn't be able to improve yourselves unless you 
had this insatiable 
drive. But you need to channel that drive with wisdom gained from experience. 


You wouldn't give an ambitious young ensign fresh out the academy a Starship 
command. Just as you 
described, the possibilities and choices would be too overwhelming. He or she 
would need to gain 
knowledge and experience over a period of years before being able to make 
responsible decisions as a 
captain. Otherwise the ensign, now captain, would be faced with such a contrast 
between his or her 
earlier powerlessness and his or or her current position, that the temptation to 
show off that power 
would be irresistable. In your case, you felt powerless to do anything really 
effective about the 
Cardassians, and you felt particularly put out by your powerlessness in relation 
to *me*--it's 
perfectly understandable that you would misuse your sudden acquisition of 
omnipotence. I don't think 
any human, given complete invulnerability and absolute power, could have 
resisted the impulse to cause 
major damage to one's enemies. And I think you were, quite literally, out of 
your mind. I would accept a 
plea of temporary insanity on your part. Where you screwed up in a big way, 
Jean-Luc, and where you 
really need to do some soul-searching, was in your decision to accept the offer 
in the first place." 


"I think you're right, Q. I knew you were right, of course, I knew 
intellectually that I would be tempted 
to misuse the power. But I had this irresistable compulsion to prove my 
independence from you, to get 
back at you for all the times you patronized and insulted us. I wanted 
retribution but in the most childish 
fashion. And I feel absolutely terrible in a way I've never experienced before. 
My experience with the 
Borg was devastating, but in a different way. I had to learn that some things 
were simply out of my 
control and I couldn't do anything about them. In this case, I *could* have done 
things entirely 
differently; it was my choice entirely, and I chose wrong from start to finish." 


"You had already learned that lesson before the Borg, Jean-Luc. One of the 
things that makes you a 
great captain is that you are willing to admit when you're outmatched. In our 
first encounter, you 
surrendered rather than risk the lives of your crew, and you asked for my help 
when I put you in the 
way of the Borg. When facing external threats, you're willing to accept your 
limitations, but the 
problem is you don't want to admit your own fallibility, the possibility that 
you would do the wrong 
thing and for completely selfish reasons. You've always been convinced that you 
are morally superior 
to me; that conviction allowed you to fool yourself that your decision to accept 
the powers was based 
on something other than a childish desire to say, 'I'll show *you*!'" 


"You're absolutely right, Q, and I'm not happy about it. I feel utterly ashamed 
of myself, and it's not a 
feeling I'm used to. And I have to confess it's particularly galling to have to 
admit that you were right 
all along. I so much wanted to defeat you, to prove you were completely mistaken 
about us; I wanted to 
humiliate you as you had done to me. I feel ashamed because I don't normally 
give in to such impulses." 


"Jean-Luc, you don't normally admit to even having such impulses. That's where 
your problem lies. But 
if it's any consolation, I don't think less of you. Since I didn't have to kill 
you, and you didn't succeed in 
killing me, it's kind of satisfying to me to see the paragon of ethical 
perfection brought down a few 
pegs. I'm egotistical and selfish, but at least I admit it. You're just as 
egotistical, and it's time you 
started to realize that." 


Picard sighed. "Q, I'm sure you have some virtues somewhere, and I know you have 
a lot of abilities, 
but just don't ever expect me to recommend you for a position as a ship's 
counselor." 


"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc. You asked me for help, and I haven't been able to provide 
it." 


"No, that's not true. Your analysis of why I did what I did made a lot of sense. 
You effectively 
pinpointed exactly where I went wrong. Everything you've said is absolutely 
true; it just doesn't 
particularly make me feel any better. I think what I wanted was a little 
sympathy. I'm feeling sorry for 
myself. I know it's self-indulgent, but it's not every day that one violates 
every one of one's most 
cherished beliefs and principles on such a massive scale." 


Q's voice dropped, and he spoke slowly, as if considering every word, "Well, 
when it comes to things 
like sympathy, I'm afraid you're going to have to spell out what you want. 
Empathy is not a highly 
developed trait among us; we don't have to put ourselves in each others' places, 
since we can 
communicate everything telepathically. And those parts of ourselves we choose 
*not* to share we 
shield completely. Either way, empathy would seem to require a kind of 
imaginative identification a Q 
has very little need for or experience of. When I'm just listening to you speak, 
not reading your mind, I 
don't entirely have the ability to understand all the different layers of 
emotions you're experiencing. I 
can't read between the lines without invading your privacy entirely. So if you 
want sympathy from me, 
you're going to have to ask for it directly, but even so, I'm not exactly sure 
how to provide it. I can't 
even say I know exactly how you feel; I've *never* been remotely that driven or 
that motivated about 
anything. As I've said, all my myriad transgressions were the result of boredom, 
not a burning desire 
to rearrange the political structure and balance of power of the galaxy. There 
are other things I can do. 
I can make you forget most of the experience or simply block your negative 
emotions, but I don't think 
that's what you're looking for. Otherwise I'm out of my league. When one is 
supposed to be providing 
sympathy, what does one do?" 


Picard couldn't help smiling. Q, who was so powerful in certain respects, had 
very little in the way of 
social skills. It would have been impossible for him to utter platitudes like "I 
know just how you feel," 
or "Everything's going to be OK." Picard realized that was one reason he was 
beginning to find Q's 
company so stimulating; whether he was feeling anger or affection, Q said what 
he meant without 
bothering with social niceties and conventions. He was making a genuine effort 
to help, even if he didn't 
quite know how to go about it. Q was still regarding the Captain with a slightly 
worried frown on his 
face. 


"Well, Q, it's not so much that I want you to say you know how I feel when it 
isn't the case or to 
reassure me with false platitudes. I'll be honest with you, since I really 
appreciate how honest you've 
been being with me. I'm really devastated by what happened, by what I did, by my 
own perversity in 
accepting the Continuum's offer in the first place, and I feel very alone and . 
. . ashamed." 


As he spent more time with humans, Q was becoming more convinced of the virtues 
of physical contact. 
His initial impulse was to put his arms around Picard and press his lips to his 
forehead, but he knew 
now was not the time. He wasn't ready to leave himself that open, and he knew 
Picard wouldn't be able 
to handle it anyway. Instead, he made his voice into a caress, soothing the 
object of his affections 
without touching him. "Jean-Luc," said Q gently, "you're not alone. This kind of 
thing is very difficult 
for me to say, but I care about you a great deal. And I find you intriguing . . 
. in your own limited way," 
he added teasingly, and Picard accepted it as such. "I took a real risk in 
taking your side against the 
Continuum," Q explained. "If they were so inclined, they could have exiled me 
again, or stripped me of 
my powers again, or executed any number of disagreeable punishments for my 
continuing defiance of 
their authority. But I did it because I realized I wouldn't stand for them 
putting you at risk any more. I 
wasn't going to be a party to experiments that could destroy you. Furthermore, I 
realized that I would 
like to have you around for at least your natural lifespan, and that's why I 
insisted that they," at this Q 
glanced skyward, "not interfere at my extending my protection to you and this 
ship. Fortunately," he 
smiled, "I was convincing enough. I don't believe they've ever seen me so 
sincere in my life; I think it 
was that that won them over. So, Jean-Luc, I don't know if that constitutes 
sympathy, but it's the best 
I can do. I'm not very experienced at what humans regard as friendship." 


"Thank you," said Picard quietly, "That *does* help. But, Q? I know I've already 
brought this up, but is 
there *any* way you can give me *any* idea why I, a *mere* human, a member of 
the race you hold 
in *such* contempt, have inspired this concern in you?" 


//'Concern,' now there's a nice neutral word//, thought Q to himself, //I don't 
think I'd better confess 
undying passion just yet.// But an irresistable perversity compelled Q to say 
slyly, "Oh, I've 
developed kind of a *thing* for bald starship captains over the past few years." 
Picard raised his 
eyebrows slightly and sighed in exasperation. Q grinned. "Sorry, Jean-Luc. I 
can't answer your 
question yet. Give it time. I'm not going anywhere. Anyway, I need to keep a few 
secrets to myself for 
the time being." Q paused, then continued: "I sincerely want to help you in any 
way I can. I hope you'll 
find me a valuable friend, but I have to warn you. I won't be an easy one." 


"I never for one moment imagined that you would," returned Picard. 


Both smiled with shared understanding, but there was a hard edge in Q's voice as 
he said, "Precisely, 
mon Capitaine. Just don't forget it." Q blew Picard a kiss just as he returned 
him to the bridge, but in 
the flash of light, the kiss was only registered by Picard's subsconcious. He 
could remember the entire 
conversation, but that final gesture was like something in a dream he had 
forgotten just as he woke up. 
He knew he felt suddenly troubled about his parting from Q, but he didn't know 
why. 


* * * 


As soon as Picard reappeared on the bridge, Riker and Worf began barraging him 
with a tirade against 
Q's presence. Worf insisted that Q was a threat to the ship's security, and 
Riker, barely containing his 
impatience, asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?" Picard nodded, but not at 
all encouragingly. His 
lips were pressed together in a thin line, and his eyes narrowed. Ignoring these 
non-verbal cues, Riker 
unwisely pressed on, "Captain, it is my responsibility to ensure your personal 
safety. I cannot fulfill 
that responsibility if Q is going to be spiriting you off the ship at any 
moment. I think he's going to be 
disruptive and a distraction at best, and I still believe that the threat he 
poses far outweighs any 
potential 'benefits.'" 


Picard had had enough and exploded, "Number One, for God's sake, I am neither a 
child nor a fool! I 
believe I am still the Captain of this ship. I have made up my mind, and you're 
just going to have to 
accept it. As to my personal safety, if Q's transportation methods alarm you, 
then don't ever avail 
yourself of them. But if Q asks me if I want to go with him, using his powers, I 
believe you should give 
me credit for having the capacity to make up my own mind whether to accept or 
not. Have you ever 
known me to defer to Q except when lives were at stake? I haven't exactly been 
his most ardent 
admirer on this ship. But he *has* changed, and I'll tell you something, Will, 
*I trust him*. It's not that 
I expect him to be a model of selfless and virtuous behavior--I imagine he'll be 
pretty damned irritating 
at times--but I absolutely believe that he will not harm anyone on this ship, 
and furthermore, we ought 
to be grateful for the protection he's offering us. You don't have to like him, 
and you don't have spend 
time with him, but you're going to damnned well treat him as *my* guest. 
Frankly, if I were you, 
knowing how volatile Q can be, I'd watch what I say. His telepathic abilities 
are far beyond anything you 
can imagine, and he's probably listening to us right now. I know he won't do 
anything to harm you or 
disrupt your ability to perform your duties, but even with those restrictions, 
I'm sure he has any 
number of creative ways of expressing his displeasure." 


Q, of course, was listening in and could barely contain his glee. As the bridge 
officers watched, a 
message began spooling out across the viewscreen: "AS A MATTER OF FACT, JEAN-
LUC, I AM 
LISTENING. AS TO YOU, COMMANDER RIKER, IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE TO ME WHETHER YOU 
APPROVE 
OF MY PRESENCE OR NOT. BUT YOU REALLY OUGHT TO TREAT YOUR CAPTAIN WITH A LITTLE 
MORE 
RESPECT, N'EST CE PAS?" 


Picard was half-expecting Q to transform Riker temporarily into some annoying 
animal or otherwise 
wreak some signal revenge on him, but much to his surprise, Q exercised 
unexpected self-restraint and 
left his message to Riker to speak for itself. It had the intended effect. Riker 
was thoroughly 
embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Sir," he apologized, "I was completely out of line in 
questioning your 
judgment and authority." Riker then glanced up, "I don't like to admit it, Q, 
but you're right this time. 
Just don't expect me to be your best friend." 


"HEAVEN PROTECT ME FROM SUCH A FATE," replied the viewscreen. 


"Now," said Picard, "do you think we could get back to work?" 


* * * 


Picard remained troubled, however. When he went off-duty, he headed to Ten-
Forward. He knew Guinan 
would be apprised of what had been said in conference about Q remaining on 
board, but he didn't realize 
that Guinan actually knew the entire story. "Guinan," he asked, as they sat down 
at a corner table, "can 
you tell me anything about your previous dealings with Q?" 


"I would prefer not to, Captain. And that was a long time ago. It has nothing to 
do with you." 


"You're right," sighed Picard. "I just don't know what to make of him. He has 
promised not to harm 
anyone here, and he has professed friendship to me, but what can that mean for 
him? How can a 
friendship exist with such an utter disparity between two individuals?" 


"You're friends with some your officers," smiled Guinan. "Yet there's a large 
disparity in power and 
responsibility." 


"I know," said Picard almost irritably, "but with Q that's multiplied a 
thousandfold. Friendship implies a 
degree of reciprocity, and that's possible with my officers, but what the devil 
do I have to offer Q?" 


"Captain, how would you describe Q's relationship with the other Q?" It was like 
Guinan to answer a 
question with another question, and Picard was used to it. 


Picard thought back to the times he knew of that the Continuum had imposed 
authority on Q, and he also 
recalled Q's confrontation with his blond colleague after Q's speech. "He 
doesn't seem particularly 
popular there," he answered. 


"That would be an accurate, if understated, way of putting it," noted Guinan 
with an enigmatic smile. "Q 
is a nonconformist and a rebel. This does not go over well with his fellow Q. He 
also doesn't have a lot 
in the way of interpersonal skills." 


"I've noticed," laughed Picard, who then frowned and said musingly, "So you're 
suggesting he's 
*lonely*?" 


"Those who affirm their self-sufficiency the most are often those most in need 
of connection with 
others," said Guinan pointedly, and Picard wasn't sure if she was describing Q 
or himself . . . or both. 


"I can't offer him the kind of benefits he can offer me, obviously," said 
Picard, "but you think he just 
wants company?" 


"Well, Captain, you've showed a lot more tolerance for him than most of the 
other individuals he's 
tormented. He's probably overwhelmed with gratitude, although he'd never admit 
it." 


"You've never seemed particularly fond of him," said Picard. "Are *you* telling 
me I should trust 
him?" 


"He seems to have adopted you as a kind of protege," responded Guinan slowly. 
"And lying outright 
isn't his style. If he promised not to harm you, he won't. I don't see that you 
have any choice *but* to 
trust him, Picard. So you might as well make the most of it." 


Picard looked sharply at Guinan. "That's almost exactly what he said." 


* * * 


Having put Riker in his place, Q decided it was time to move on to the next 
challenge--Guinan. He knew 
that Picard was right and that having Guinan as an enemy would certainly not 
enhance his comfort. Once 
the coast was clear, and he knew Picard had gone to his quarters, he resolved to 
get it over with. At 
the same time, he wasn't in any hurry to get to Ten-Forward, despite his 
resolve. He materialized 
several decks away and actually walked and used the turbolift, hesitating in 
front of the entrance to 
Ten-Forward before he finally steeled himself to go in. Even with his powers 
intact, Q approached 
Guinan with wariness. He sat down at the bar, and remarked, "I hope you're not 
going to stab me with a 
fork this time. It can't do wonders for repeat business to assault your 
customers," and Guinan whirled 
around, furious. 


She seethed, in a low voice, so as not to be overheard, "It may not be a sound 
business practice, but 
you bring out the worst in people. Why can't you just leave us alone? Why did 
you let him do it? He 
could have been killed, and there's no telling how much damage he could have 
done. Don't you have any 
sense of responsibility?" 


"Moi?" replied Q. "You shouldn't jump to conclusions when you don't have all the 
facts, dear; it makes 
you seem considerably less intelligent than you are. I had to make him the 
offer; I didn't have any 
choice. It was his decision to accept. If you want to know the truth, I tried my 
hardest to talk him out of 
it, but you know how obstinate he is. He insisted." 


"I can believe that," sighed Guinan. "But you had to know he would accept. You 
should have done 
everything in your power to stop the experiment in the first place." 


"Excuse me, but I don't have a whole lot of clout in the Continuum these days. I 
just work there. No 
matter what I told them, they insisted that if I didn't convey their offer, they 
would have sent someone 
else. And don't you *dare* accuse me of irresponsibility, Woman. Not only did I 
stop him, without 
killing him, mind you, but I got the Continuum to promise not to interfere with 
him or any other humans 
any more. Doesn't that count for anything?" 


"Yes, of course it does. You were lucky things didn't get more out of hand 
though. Did it ever occur to 
you, with your IQ of 2005, that if another member of the Continuum had conveyed 
the offer to Picard, 
he would probably have never accepted it? Picard couldn't care less about 
satisfying the Continuum; he 
would have simply turned them down. But when it came as a challenge from *you*, 
how could he do 
anything but take you up on it? You've proved to him over and over again how 
helpless he is, that you 
can do anything you want to him. He's human, and humans don't like being 
humiliated even if it's in their 
own best interest. Don't you know him well enough by now to have figured out how 
he would react?" 


Q's eyes widened, then he lowered his forehead into his hand with a heavy sigh. 
Shaking his head, he 
conceded, "You're right, Guinan. That didn't occur to me at all. I just figured 
it was between him and 
me. I guess I've always thought of Picard as my personal property; I didn't want 
to let any of my 
colleagues in on my territory. I'm sorry--I screwed up." 


Guinan wasn't through with Q yet. "Well, next time, don't screw up. Look, I have 
to admit it took a lot 
of courage for you to stand up to the Continuum on Picard's behalf. I understand 
that you voluntarily put 
yourself through a major humiliation for his sake. . . ." 


"You're telling me," muttered Q. 


Guinan continued, "But when you should have stood up to them was when they got 
this little *dumb* 
idea in the first place. I know you tried to talk them out of it, but that's not 
enough. You knew what they 
were proposing was both dangerous and unethical. You should have refused to 
participate and risked the 
consequences beforehand, not after the fact." 


At this point, a young officer approached the bar. Q impatiently waved his hand 
and the drinks the 
officer was intending to order simply materialized in his hands. "How'd you do 
that?" he gasped. 


"I learned it in bartending school. Highly advanced class," snapped Q. 


"I'd appreciate if you could try to be polite to my customers," remarked Guinan. 
"Play all the tricks 
you want, but try to be civil." 


"I'll try, but it won't be easy." Q leaned his head in his hand. "Well, you 
certainly know how to give a 
guy a good time, Woman. Any more horrendous mistakes and ethical shortcomings of 
mine you'd like to 
point out? You're right, of course. I should have refused from the start. Damn! 
I suppose this whole 
thing was my fault. I feel terrible; you have no idea how furious I was with 
him." 


"Oh, he deserved it, too," admitted Guinan. "He should have anticipated the 
results, but he did it just to 
spite you. You're both at fault. You are a bit older than he is, though, and you 
should have known 
better." 


"Yes, Mom. You know, neither you nor Picard are my parents, but you're both 
acting like it, and it's 
getting old fast." 


Guinan smiled, but not in a particularly friendly fashion, "Maybe it's because 
Picard and I know you 
have a history of childish behavior. You're not so wise for all your knowledge, 
but I've told you that 
before." 


"Haven't you though?" 


"Listen, Q," said Guinan. "I'm going to be keeping an eye on you. I have some 
power over you, if you 
recall." 


"And if *you* recall, if I made up my mind to eliminate you, I could do so 
without too much trouble. The 
only reason you have any power over me at all is that I have considered your 
life worth preserving so 
far. But *don't* push your luck." 


"Q," said Guinan quietly, "I know you've promised to behave yourself, but I've 
also seen you lose 
control in ways I still shudder to remember. If you threaten this ship or its 
crew in any way, I'm going 
to do my best to stop you, regardless of the consequences." 


"Yes, of course," retorted Q sarcastically, "everyone loves a martyr." Then he 
added seriously, "But 
can't you admit the possibility that I've changed? Picard has; he actually 
trusts me. Ask him--he's 
genuinely glad I'm here. I don't need to review my many and varied 
transgressions with you; you know 
them as well as I. But give a guy a little credit for being able to modify his 
behavior, OK? I'm a new Q." 


"Why?" asked Guinan. "You've always prided yourself on your selfishness and your 
independence. Why 
all of a sudden have you decided to start behaving yourself?" 


"I have a compelling motivation, and it has nothing to do with a newly acquired 
overwhelming sense of 
virtue, I'm afraid. I'm simply trying to make a good impression." 


"On whom?" 


"Can't you figure it out, all-knowing one?" demanded Q. "I can't believe *that* 
has escaped your 
powers of observation. You know, it's not easy for me to admit, least of all to 
you, but I'm trying 
really hard to get on your good side: Q the omnipotent, Q the self-sufficient, 
is smitten, infatuated, 
lovestruck, enraptured, enthralled, transfixed, you name it." At this juncture, 
he paused to create 
more drinks for an approaching patron, not wishing to be interrupted. 


It was Guinan's turn to turn wide-eyed with a sudden shock of recognition. Q was 
actually quite self-
satisfied to see her discomfiture. "*Oh . . . my . . . God*," she exclaimed with 
emphasis, "it's 
*Picard*!" 


"Bingo. Yes, she did it, ladies and gentlemen! She wins a new car and a vacation 
of her choice to any 
part of the galaxy!" He continued, imitating Guinan's voice, "Well, Captain, 
you've showed a lot more 
tolerance for him than most of the other individuals he's tormented. He's 
probably overwhelmed with 
gratitude, although he'd never admit it." In his own voice, he added, "I find it 
hard to believe that you 
could be so naive." 


"You were listening?" 


"Of *course* I was listening. Would you honestly have expected me not to?" 


"You've got a point there," replied Guinan drily, but she was trying to repress 
a smile. There was 
something endearingly irresistable about Q in his childishness when he wasn't 
actually doing harm. 
Guinan knew better than almost anyone of the wistful loneliness that underlay 
Q's bluster. It didn't 
excuse his sadistic and vindictive behavior, but it went a long way toward 
explaining it. 


"Well," she sighed. "I have to compliment you on your good taste. Does he know?" 


"No, no, no. He knows he's important to me, and he knows I take an interest in 
him, but he doesn't have 
the faintest idea what that interest consists of. And I intend to keep it that 
way for a while. He has 
enough problems for the moment." 


"Are you going to tell him?" 


"When it seems like the right time, *if* it ever seems like the right time." Q 
paused, took a deep 
breath, and said quietly, "Guinan, he's the only thing in my entire miserable, 
wasted existence that 
really means anything to me. I don't want to screw this up." 


Guinan placed her hand on top of Q's, and they clasped hands briefly as she 
said, "Well, Q, I don't know 
what to tell you. He may surprise you, and you may surprise yourself. I just 
don't know. But I *can* 
offer you a drink." 


"Sure, why not?" replied the entity. "I'm certainly living a clich*, aren't I? 
Here I am, leaning my head 
on a bar and pouring out my woes to the bartender." 


Guinan smiled, "Well, I'm a very good bartender. You know, Q, when you're like 
this you're almost 
likable." 


"See what love has brought me to? Even *you* like me now!" 


"I said almost," said Guinan with a grin. 


"That's good. I wouldn't want to be perceived as going completely soft." Q 
swallowed his drink in one 
gulp, remarking, "Not bad," waved his hand to suspend time in order not to be 
observed, then leaned 
across the bar, kissed Guinan on the cheek, and said, "Thanks for listening. 
You're a pal." 


"I've tried to be for centuries." 


"I know; I just wasn't ready to listen to you." Q smiled and winked, then 
disappeared, allowing the flow 
of time to resume as he did so. Guinan remained behind the bar shaking her head 
and chuckling until Q's 
absence forced her to return to the business of making drinks. 


* * * 


Picard lay awake on his bed, in the dark, hands folded behind his head, eyes 
wide open. Sleep was 
impossible. His mind was churning, trying to make sense of something too 
incomprehensible for him to 
make sense of.  //How am I ever going to live with this? I've made mistakes, 
errors in judgment, I've 
let my arrogance cloud my reasoning, but I never imagined that I could 
intentionally commit a wholly 
evil act. To even conceive of exterminating all those lives! I hope Q was right, 
that I was temporarily 
insane. But how could I have accepted the offer? I knew humans don't have the 
capacity to handle 
unlimited power. How could I have allowed myself such a complete lapse in 
judgment? It seems as if 
every time I encounter Q, he gives me a choice or a decision to make, and I 
inevitably make the wrong 
one. When he offered to join the crew, it was my arrogance and cockiness that 
made me turn him down. 
'Your help is not required'--what idiocy! How do I know that there weren't 
things even in this part of 
the galaxy that could outmatch our capabilities? What would we have done when 
the Borg did arrive 
eventually? 'Your help is not required'--how utterly foolish! Think of all the 
lives that could have been 
saved if I'd had the sense to strike up an alliance with Q when he first offered 
it. And think of the 
exploration we might have been able to do, almost risk-free. But no, I had to 
say 'Your help is not 
required.' Well, I certainly made a fool of myself and lost 18 crew members in 
the process. I could have 
asked for his help sooner than I did. He may have lost his temper, but he was 
right. How do I know there 
isn't a force out there even greater than the Borg?// 


//And when he came back to us, stripped of his powers, I refused to believe him. 
And the next time he 
returned, he was right as well. He saw through Vash in an instant. Ah yes, 'the 
great Jean-Luc Picard 
brought down by a woman.' Indeed. I suppose it's understandable I didn't listen 
to him then. No one 
listens to advice, however well-intentioned, when they're in love. But when Q 
gave me the opportunity 
to change my past, why didn't I see what he was doing? I knew the extent of Q's 
powers--if he wanted 
to revive me, he would have revived me, no matter what I did. He knew so much 
better than I did that 
the person I was then is inextricable from the person I am now. Usually I'm a 
competent person. I have 
the respect of my crew, I've gotten us out of almost impossible situations; 
together we've solved 
almost insurmountable problems. I don't understand why every time Q comes around 
and puts me in the 
position of making a choice and sets a trap that I ought to see my way around, I 
walk right in and slam 
the door shut behind me. Why is that?// 


//And this last time, he wasn't trying to trick me or teach me anything at all. 
He was trying to 
intercede, to prevent me from making the most foolish decision of my life, but I 
refused to accept that 
he could be right. He changed somehow after his effort to tempt Riker failed. 
He's been trying to help 
me all along, granted in pretty brutal and tactless ways, but why can't I 
separate his manner from his 
intentions? I'm supposed to have some understanding of diplomacy and experience 
in dealing with 
representatives of any number of cultures. I'm supposed to have some grasp of 
human nature, and in 
the ways he responds to us, Q is as human as we mortals are. So why couldn't I 
see through his bluster 
and his imperiousness to the intentions underneath? Yes, he has a sadistic 
streak, yes he enjoys lording 
it over us and professing his superiority. So what? Why couldn't I see beyond 
that to the knowledge and 
experience he has to offer? Why couldn't I have listened to him, this time, when 
I knew he had 
previously proven his interest in my welfare? Why couldn't I have listened to 
him just this once?// 


Picard felt as though every muscle in his body was knotted up. His eyes seemed 
frozen open, his brain 
in a turmoil of activity. Then, suddenly, inexplicably, he began to relax. His 
mind seemed instantly 
empty. He felt what seemed like invisible, insubstantial fingers smoothing the 
lines of his forehead, 
stroking his eyes closed, releasing the tension in his clenched jaw. Picard's 
head sank like a lead weight 
into his pillow, as a wave of warmth and relaxation slowly progressed down his 
body. He felt the taut 
muscles in his neck and shoulders begin to relax and became aware that his 
breathing and heartbeat 
grew slower and more regular. The aching knots in his chest and stomach began to 
unravel as his back 
muscles also loosened. As the sensation of relaxation moved down his body toward 
his feet, he felt 
heavier, sinking more and more into his mattress. With a sigh, he fell asleep, 
not registering the 
sensation of lips briefly touching his forehead. 


As soon as Picard fell asleep, Q resumed his corporeal form. He had not merely 
been invisible, but 
intangible as well. He had been hovering, cloud-like, in a corner of the room, 
projecting the sensations 
Picard had felt. Now he paced quietly. It was obvious that Picard was not going 
to get over this incident 
very soon, but Q wanted urgently to help him do so. He was troubled. It seemed 
clear that Picard would 
be questioning and second-guessing himself for some time. Q hadn't realized just 
how deeply shaken 
Picard was. As far as Q was concerned, once an incident was past and once the 
consequences had been 
dealt with, there was no point in dwelling on it. Of course as a Q, one could go 
back in time and change 
what had already occurred, but the consequences of meddling with time were often 
more catastrophic 
than the original incident itself. So Q had learned early on in his checkered 
career that dwelling on his 
past behavior didn't benefit anyone. 


Stupid mistakes deserved swift retaliation; Q had dealt with Picard in the same 
manner that his 
superiors had dealt with him. But once the punishment had been exacted and once 
one had suffered the 
deserved scorn and derision of one's colleagues, it was time to move on. The 
emotion of regret was not 
unknown to Q, but he was very selective as to which of his transgressions he did 
regret, and his energy 
was channeled more toward rectifying the harm he had caused or finding some way 
to make up for it 
rather than berating himself. He didn't see the point of Picard's beating 
himself up, but he also was not 
yet aware of how far Picard's guilty conscience would drive him. He was soon to 
find out, but in the 
meanwhile, he was half-satisfied that he had provided the object of his 
affections with a night's sleep. 
Not a permanent solution, but a necessary one for the time being. Q knew Picard 
had his work cut out 
for him. 
  


Chapter 6 


Picard had received orders from Starfleet that, as soon as the repairs were 
completed at Starbase 329 
(a process which would take a couple of weeks), the Enterprise was to pick up 
two senior Federation 
ambassadors and a team of negotiators and take them to a spot near the 
Cardassian border where the 
ship would serve as host for a new round of peace talks. Although Q had 
prevented the battlefield 
holocaust Picard had been about to initiate, he had been too occupied with 
Picard to erase the memories 
of all involved. Now Picard's actions in the prison camps were having longer-
term repercussions. 
Although both sides did not have any real desire to engage in a full-scale war, 
the recent events had 
escalated their suspicions of each other, and the Cardassians were still 
insisting that Starfleet had to 
be involved in the release of the prisoners. No one but Q and Guinan knew of 
Picard's involvement. In the 
meanwhile, both sides were preoccupied with repairs to the weapons systems of 
their ships. 


While Worf reported to Picard about the security arrangements for the visiting 
dignitaries on both sides 
and the potential for terrorist activity on the part of either the Cardassians 
or Bajoran operatives 
looking for an opportunity to revenge themselves on their erstwhile oppressors, 
or for that matter, the 
Maquis trying to derail the negotiations, Picard was distracted. He forced 
himself to pay attention, 
made a few suggestions, then retreated to his ready room, his mind in turmoil. 


Instantly Q appeared and perched on the edge of Picard's desk with a concerned 
look on his face. "What's 
the matter, Jean-Luc?" 


"Q, do you see what I've done? If we're not extraordinarily careful, this may 
lead to war after all, and 
I'm responsible. I've violated any number of Starfleet regulations, and I would 
have completely 
overturned the Prime Directive if you hadn't prevented me. I don't see how I can 
keep functioning in 
command. I think I should turn myself in . . . for a court-martial." 


Q was livid; it was all he could to restrain himself from hurling Picard's 
nearby edition of Shakespeare 
across the room, if not out into space altogether. "Jean-Luc, that is the most 
ri*di*culous and absurd 
thing I have ever heard! Can't you ever drag your restricted little mind out of 
its military mindset? You 
have a lot more important things to deal with than upholding the sanctity of the 
Starfleet chain of 
command. And if you think I'm going to let you destroy yourself, you're sorely 
mistaken. Picard, you 
are so god damned infuriating--if I hadn't promised not to hurt you, I would be 
shaking you until your 
teeth rattled in the hopes of jolting some sense into you!" 


"Damn it, Q! I violated a peace treaty, and I may end up having started a war! 
Does that mean 
*anything* to you? I can't just keep this to myself and not take responsibility 
for my actions." 


Q's eyes glared, and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, finally 
placing his face 
immediately in front of the Captain's. "*My* actions! It never ceases to amaze 
me what absolute 
depths of imbecility you are capable of, Picard." Q's voice then switched into 
an exaggerated version of 
the inflection and tone of a kindergarten teacher. "Now, take a deep breath, and 
listen to Q, and he will 
try to explain this in terms *you* can understand." He continued in his normal 
voice, "When you had 
the powers of the Q, Jean-Luc, you were, to all intents and purposes not 
yourself. Dr. Crusher, for 
instance, with her feeble instruments, would not have been able to register you 
as a human being. 
Counselor Troi would not have been able to sense your emotions. You had the 
basic elements of your 
personality intact, just as I did when I had my powers removed, but you were not 
the Captain of the 
Enterprise; you were, to all intents and purposes, a Q. We are so far superior 
in our knowledge and 
ability that we transcend your human laws and regulations; it would be 
ridiculous for us to be subject 
to them. When you had our powers, you were operating in an entirely different 
dimension; it's absurd to 
say you should have been accountable to Starfleet rules. Your situation was so 
far beyond what those 
rules were designed to cover, that they *simply don't apply*. You were a god, 
Jean-Luc Picard, if a 
pretty damned lousy one," Q noted in that tone of affectionate bemusement that 
always perplexed 
Picard, "and you want to subject the actions you took to a Starfleet military 
tribunal? Uh-uh." Q 
switched back into kindergarten teacher mode, "Now, let's see if we can find a 
more *constructive* 
way of dealing with this problem. Can you say 'constructive'?" 


Picard was speechless with anger but slammed his hand into the desk, gasped, and 
began shaking it in a 
fury while Q mercilessly laughed at him. "You're so beautiful when you're 
angry," he said in a 
seductive tone, then added, "Jean-Luc, sometimes you're so hopeless I honestly 
don't know what I see 
in you. What happened during your stint as god for a day is *history*, at least 
in the limited sense in 
which you understand it. *Ancient* history. Now *my* humble opinion is that the 
most constructive 
way you could deal with the consequences of your godlike misbehavior would be to 
direct your attention 
to the future. You have a serious diplomatic mission ahead of you, and I'd 
suggest you get your act 
together, get a grip on yourself, and make sure you don't screw *it* up." Unable 
to resist the impulse 
to torment Picard further, Q continued in his most infuriatingly patronizing 
tone, "Come on, Johnny, 
make me proud of you. Give me something to write home about. I'm sure the 
Continuum will want to 
hear all about it." 


Picard sat silently looking at Q for a long time. He began shaking his head 
slowly with his forehead 
furrowed in a frown, but after a while, a tremendous smile broke out on his 
face. "Q, you are an 
absolute bloody bastard. It's a damn good thing you're right . . ." 


"Aren't I though?" interrupted Q with a smile. 


"But you're still a bastard. At any rate, I will try to put my misguided 
attempts at godlike intervention 
behind me and focus on these negotiations." 


"Jean-Luc, I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but the original 
skirmishes on the border were 
caused by the Continuum. They wanted to give you a serious situation and see how 
you would react to 
it. And the rest is history, as they say. But you should realize that this 
entire situation was artificially 
produced in the first place, so you really aren't responsible for your actions. 
Unfortunately the 
Continuum's meddling has created an actual diplomatic crisis that *you* have 
deal with, but it isn't 
your fault." Q paused for a moment, got up and paced, then returned, perching on 
the edge of Picard's 
desk. His demeanor grew even more serious. 


"There's something else, Jean-Luc. And it looks like I owe you at least a 
partial apology for losing my 
temper with you. Guinan has theorized that if another member of the Continuum 
had made the offer to 
you, you would have refused. But from me, it was like a challenge you couldn't 
pass up." 


"I would say that's an accurate assessment," mused Picard. 


"In that case," continued Q, "then I'm a good deal more responsible for what 
happened than I thought. It 
simply didn't occur to me to turn you over to one of my colleagues. I figured I 
was responsible for you. 
But if I had been less territorial, none of this would have happened. You're 
still a damned fool for 
accepting the offer, even from me, but I certainly share some of the blame for 
not anticipating that. I 
shouldn't have blown up at you to the extent that I did, but as you've probably 
noticed, my temper tends 
to get the better of me. I'm sorry." 


Picard smiled, "Apology accepted. It sounds like we both reacted predictably; it 
just goes to show that 
neither one of us is perfect . . . " 


"Even if we usually convince ourselves we are," Q finished for him. "Now I 
believe you have some work 
to do, Captain." 


"Q, thank you again and again and again. I . . . ah . . . I'm a little unsure of 
myself these days, and I'm 
really grateful to have you around. Even if you are a bastard, you're a 
tremendous help to me." 


"That's me--service with a smile. Later, Captain. If you need me, I'm at your 
beck and call." There was 
the usual flash, and Q was gone. 


* * * 


As it turned out, Picard did not have too difficult a time placating the 
Cardassians when the peace talks 
finally took place. He appealed strongly to their self-interest, urging the 
benefits of remaining at peace 
with the Federation. He convinced the Federation ambassadors to sign any number 
of guarantees that 
the Federation would not interfere with Cardassian internal affairs. Q had 
already made a point of 
reversing Picard's godlike attempts at brainwashing, so the prison officials and 
guards were back to 
normal, with the exception of having no prisoners to guard, although they would 
undoubtedly have some 
in the near future. Q's actions in disabling both fleets' weapons systems helped 
persuade the 
Cardassians that there were larger forces involved. Picard hinted that the Q 
Continuum had a hand in 
provoking the original border skirmish, and the Cardassians were so incensed at 
this interference by 
another species, that it dissipated some of their hostility toward the 
Federation. If it was the case that 
the Continuum was involved, the Cardassian negotiators speculated among 
themselves, then it was 
entirely possible that they would interfere in any future battles as well. The 
Cardassian military 
certainly didn't want to spend the next several years devoting all their 
resources to repeatedly 
repairing the monumental damage Q had inflicted to their ships. 


Much to Picard's relief, a stronger peace treaty, with more specific provisions 
for dealing with 
perceived violations, was signed and ratified by the respective governments. He 
could finally put this 
whole episode behind him and move on. It continued to haunt him for days and 
weeks, however, leaving 
him feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Somehow, whenever he felt 
hesitant or shaky, that 
now-familiar voice would turn up inside his head, offering him reassurance and 
strength. Q seemed to 
know exactly how to handle Picard; having used his powers to put Picard's mind 
back together, he had 
an understanding of the Captain that was, of course, light-years beyond that of 
any human intimacy. On 
certain occasions, Q simply teased Picard out of his feelings of weakness; on 
other occasions, he would 
offer firm but gentle encouragement. Gradually, Picard began to feel more and 
more himself, and he 
began to enjoy Q's company more for its own sake and less for the psychological 
boosts the entity 
amply provided. 


Q, of course, was not simply operating out of compassion, lest this behavior on 
his part seem too out of 
character. He determined to shower Picard with benefits on the one hand, while 
making periodic 
reminders of his powers and superiority on the other; he wanted to make himself 
utterly indispensable 
to the object of his affections, but at the same time, he didn't want Picard to 
take him for granted. Q 
was determined to retain the upper hand, not having learned from his experience 
with Vash that most 
humans are not comfortable in relationships where the power is entirely on one 
side. Q's only 
experience in relationships where both partners are equally matched was with his 
own kind, and he 
could only imagine two kinds of relationships: an equal one that involved an 
utter loss of privacy or one 
of absolute dominance on one side, preferably his. Romance was either a contest 
or a conquest; as yet, 
he could not conceive of some sort of middle ground. 


He knew that Picard was preoccupied with Beverly Crusher. He knew as well that 
Picard's feelings for 
him were deepening and strengthening daily, but it hadn't entered Picard's mind 
to think of Q as a 
potential romantic partner and most likely never would--friend, mentor, 
protector, yes; his foil in a 
battle of wits and wills, yes; lover, hardly. Q had been unable to keep his 
resolution of respecting 
Picard's privacy. He inserted himself into the Captain's dreams, testing 
Picard's unconscious reactions 
to a kiss or a touch on the arm or neck, then eradicating all the details of the 
dream before his subject 
woke up. There was definitely something there, some reaction, some response, 
however undefined. 
Picard would wake up, troubled, aware that he had been dreaming about his 
omnipotent companion, but 
unable to remember anything more specific. Picard actually found himself musing 
about Q quite often. 
What the entity somehow completely failed to realize was that with every 
telepathic contact he 
initiated with Picard, whether the Captain was conscious of it or not, Picard 
was, without 
understanding how, becoming more and more aware of Q's presence in his mind. 


* * * 


In the meanwhile, repairs to the weapons systems were proceeding at Starbase 
329, and most the 
crew were getting rotating shore leave on Rydal IV, the planet below, as it was 
only the engineering 
staff who were busy. On board the Enterprise, when Q was not engaged in his 
frustrating pursuit of 
Picard, he found Data and Guinan to be his most diverting companions. Data, like 
Q, did not require 
sleep, and he was quite happy to share his free time with a being as 
knowledgeable and complex as Q. 
One evening, he dropped in on Data in his quarters, while the android was 
playing with his pet cat, Spot. 
The cat and the entity were instantly intrigued by one another. Q had absolutely 
no experience of pet 
ownership, and he was both confused and unsettled by this small creature that 
roamed imperiously 
around Data's quarters. Spot, with the usual perversity of cats in the presence 
of people who are 
uncomfortable around them, headed straight for Q and began rubbing her head 
against his hand, as he sat 
rigidly on the couch. 


Data noted, "I am surprised. Spot is not usually that friendly." 


"She's not being friendly," replied Q. "She knows I'm not comfortable around 
her, and she's deliberately 
exacerbating that feeling. Why do you do that, Beast?" It was not a rhetorical 
question. After a 
moment, Q continued, "She says that cats seek out people who don't like them on 
purpose; they enjoy 
the feeling of power they get from making someone nervous. I'm actually 
beginning to like this animal!" 


"Can you communicate with her?" queried Data, with surprise. 


"Of course; she's as sentient as the rest of you; she just has a much more 
narrow range of concerns." 
Q turned his attention back to Spot, who had stopped nuzzling, and was sitting 
directly in front of Q, 
looking at him warily. "Nobody ever really listened to you before, did they, 
Beast? Tell me more." 
After another pause, Q translated, "She doesn't have much use for people; she 
thinks they think much 
too highly of themselves. As far as she's concerned, they're slow and 
uncoordinated, and they don't 
spend enough time thinking about cats' comfort. She resents the fact that humans 
regard cats as 
property, when it is cats who are gracious enough to allow people to pay cats 
the homage they deserve. 
She likes you well enough--apparently she feels you treat her with the proper 
respect due one of her 
exalted station. But she's somewhat incensed that you don't spend more time with 
her; she can't 
imagine that you have anything more important to do. This animal is remarkably 
egotistical and self-
centered, Data--are they all like that?" Q turned back to Spot, saying, "You're 
OK, Beast. I think you 
and I are going to get along just fine." 


Data replied to Q's question by noting, "I believe that cats are valued for 
their independence and self-
sufficiency. I have observed that humans tend to have a preference for either 
cats or dogs, perceiving 
them to have entirely different qualities." 


"Interesting," mused Q. "I don't understand this whole pet ownership business 
anyway. Can you explain 
it?" Suddenly he looked back at the cat, "Yes, Beastie, I know he doesn't own 
you; you own him. Now 
will you please let us talk?" Spot indicated her assent by jumping into Q's lap, 
curling up, and falling 
asleep. "Now, of course," noted Q, "she expects me to stay here until she sees 
fit to wake up. Data, 
what do you get out of sharing your quarters with this small tyrant?" 


Data responded, "I do not know if I can quantify it exactly. I find Spot to be a 
very relaxing companion. 
She is demanding in certain respects, but she has no expectations about my 
behavior. I find when 
interacting with humans I am frequently conscious of how my actions are 
perceived, or if I am doing the 
right thing. My friends treat me as if I am human like them, but I can never 
forget that I am different. 
With Spot, those issues do not arise. We simply enjoy each other's company." 


Q was absentmindedly stroking the cat. When he realized what he was doing, he 
remarked, surprised, 
"Well, it *is* relaxing. I suspect I have the same proprietary attitude toward 
certain humans that Spot 
resents in humans having toward her. I used to, or maybe I still do, expect 
humans to perform for my 
amusement. I expected them to be grateful for my exalted attention, even as I 
accorded them no 
respect." 


"Well," commented the android, "it sounds as though you have begun to understand 
humans' reactions to 
your treatment of them, just as you have showed me how Spot perceived me. I 
certainly did not realize 
that she had the degree of sentience you described. No wonder I have been so 
unsuccessful in attempting 
to train her." 


"I know just how you feel," replied Q wryly. "I have to tell you, Data, talking 
to you is most 
enlightening. If you don't mind an abrupt change of subject, can you tell me why 
you risked your life to 
save mine when I was without my powers?" 


"I cannot tell you exactly. My programming includes injunctions to preserve 
life. If you had been 
threatening a member of the crew, I would have done the opposite. But I did not 
perceive you as an 
enemy. You were defenseless, and I am programmed to protect." 


"Can you separate your programming from what you think of as your identity? Or 
is your programming 
your identity?" 


"That is a difficult question. When my brother Lore disabled my ethical 
programming, I lost the capacity 
to distinguish between good and evil. I felt anger, and I felt pleasure at 
killing. It was very disorienting 
to realize my behavior could be so easily modified by someone with evil 
intentions. My goal would be to 
transcend the limitations of my programming to the extent that I could prevent 
that from happening 
again." 


"In that respect you're very human, Data. Isn't that what humans are trying to 
do? To transcend their 
genetic and biological programming? And I can tell from recent experiences that 
humans similarly can 
act in a completely uncharacteristic fashion given extreme enough circumstances. 
You shouldn't feel 
responsible for what happened to you." 


"Thank you for telling me that. I do not exactly feel responsible, but I would 
like to use that experience 
to protect myself, and others, from a similar circumstance. If you do not mind, 
I would like to ask you 
why you gave us such a difficult time in our early encounters. I perceived that 
you seemed to derive 
enjoyment from the fear and anxiety the crew experienced." 


Q nodded, "Not enjoyment exactly, but stimulation. Let me give you a bit of 
history, although I'll have 
to oversimplify, as I'm covering eons here. Early in our development, before we 
called ourselves the Q 
Continuum, we were more driven, more ambitious, more like humans. My species was 
motivated by an 
intense desire for evolution and progress--we were eager to transcend the 
limitations posed by space 
and time, and over time, we did. We became nearly omnipotent. This all occurred 
before I became 
conscious. As the Q became more powerful, on the whole, they lost most of that 
ambition and drive. We 
took it upon ourselves to oversee the development of more primitive species, but 
that has become what 
you might call an administrative function. We research other species and 
occasionally take steps to 
guide their development in directions we think are appropriate, but on the 
whole, the Q don't do a whole 
lot. When you can have whatever you want whenever you want it, effortlessly, 
there certainly isn't 
much to aspire toward. Most of us are pretty content and set in our ways; some 
take a genuine interest 
in the details of maintaining a certain type of order in the galaxy. Mostly we 
travel and study other 
species, report back to the Continuum, and have endless meetings about whether a 
particular species 
warrants more involved research than mere observation or needs some kind of 
action taken to nudge 
them in the right directions. 


Well, as I said, most of my fellow Q are fairly content. I've always been an 
anomaly--I've always had 
an excess of what you might call mental energy. You couldn't call it ambition or 
aspiration, because 
there's nothing I can aspire to that I can't get the moment it occurs to me to 
want it. But I've always 
had a kind of restlessness that didn't permit me to fit into the routines of the 
Continuum. I still don't 
understand this entirely, but I think I mostly harrassed less-powerful species 
for lack of anything 
better to do. I didn't have enough of a sense of empathy to see them as anything 
but toys for my 
amusement, just as a child might collect insects. Of course, in the process I 
was giving the Continuum a 
bad name throughout the galaxy, and I think that was part of my motivation too. 
I found the 
complacency of my fellow Q really irritating, and I was trying to rebel in some 
fashion, only I've never 
found a really constructive way to do so. When humans came to our attention, it 
was the opinion of one 
of my colleagues that I be assigned them as a research project. The idea was 
that my own restlessness 
might give me a better handle on humans' drive to explore, but I think the real 
reason was just to give 
me something to do, and even more specifically, it was a form of punishment for 
my misdeeds. My first 
two encounters with you were set up in such a way that I was guaranteed to fail. 
I was too arrogant to 
acknowledge that humans had any competence whatsoever, and I think the Continuum 
wanted an excuse 
to discipline me. *They*'ve been concerned about human development all along; 
what they didn't realize 
is that I would become as interested in humans as I did. They certainly have 
their liabilities, but they're 
a good deal more diverting than my fellow Q are. So here I am. Frankly I feel 
more at home on the 
Enterprise than I ever did in the Continuum." 


"That cannot be from the welcome that has been accorded you," remarked Data 
bluntly but accurately. 
"Forgive me for asking, as I believe this would be construed as a very personal 
question, but is not the 
interest in humans that you describe directed at one human in particular, rather 
than the species as a 
whole?" 


Q laughed, "Mr. Data, I must commend you on your powers of observation. But if I 
were to start talking 
to you about my fascination with your Captain, you'd miss your next shift on the 
bridge, which I believe 
is coming up shortly. Let's save it for another time. Good evening, Data." 


"Good evening, Q. This conversation has been very informative." 


* * * 


Data was not the only crew member who was finding Q to be an intriguing and 
informative companion. 
Deanna Troi decided to take Q up on his offer to help her better control her 
empathic abilities, and she 
cornered him the following evening in Ten-Forward, while he was talking to 
Guinan. "You're so popular 
these days," remarked Guinan, and Q raised his eyebrows as he turned to follow 
Deanna to a table. 
  
"What's that you're drinking?" he asked. 


"Valerian root tea." 


"Ugh." Q gestured toward Guinan. "I might as well be sociable and join the 
Counselor in a drink." 


"And what will that be?" 


"Anything but that," he said, gesturing toward Deanna's tea; "surprise me." 


Guinan smiled and returned to the bar to make Q's drink. 


Q turned to Troi and said, "If I'm going to work with you on your empathic 
capacities, you're going to 
have to surrender a good bit of privacy. I have to probe your mind so I know 
just what you're capable 
of and what needs work. I'll try to avoid any secrets though, and if I stumble 
on any, I'll keep them to 
myself." 


"I understand," noted Deanna, as Guinan returned with Q's drink. 


"That's quite a color, Guinan--what do you call that?" 


"It's a Eustacian berry daquiri. Enjoy." 


Guinan returned to the bar, while Q explained, "This whole eating and drinking 
thing is new to me. I had 
to give myself taste buds to see the point of it at all, and I do rather enjoy 
it occasionally." 


"And you don't have to worry about your weight." 


"True. Another advantage of omnipotence that hadn't occurred to me." 


Q sipped his drink absentmindedly while probing Troi's mind. After a few moments 
he remarked, "That 
experience you had in the nacelle tube must have been frightening." 


"You're telling me," replied the Counselor. "I almost jumped into the plasma 
stream the way Lieutenant 
Kwan did. The whole experience was overwhelming--it felt so real, but it was 
only going on inside my 
mind." 


"Well, in a certain respect, it was real, but that's another matter. It told you 
something about your 
feelings about your Klingon friend, didn't it? But what we need to work on here 
is strengthening your 
ability to block and channel what you receive empathically. Your problem is that 
you don't merely sense 
others' emotions, but you frequently allow yourself to experience them as well. 
You're just asking to 
be overwhelmed. You're leaving yourself far too open. Any being with half-decent 
telepathic ability 
could easily convince you to kill yourself or someone else; they could simply 
flood you with their 
desires and emotions. The blocks you do have just aren't good enough." 


Deanna nodded seriously. What Q was saying was true enough. And she knew she had 
no way of 
preventing an even moderately powerful telepath from reading her mind. At the 
same time, she didn't 
particularly enjoy being reminded of her vulnerability. "There are drugs which 
help . . . " 


"Uh-uh," Q interrupted brusquely. "The drugs your friend Beverly has strengthen 
your defenses a bit 
but only at the price of losing some of your capacity. Look, I know you're a 
counselor--it's important to 
you professionally to be able to empathize with others. But humans have that 
capacity without being 
empathic. What you want to be able to do is use your ability to sense emotions 
(and more perhaps 
eventually), while keeping them separate from yourself. You have to *read* them 
without *feeling* 
them yourself. You want to be able to erect defenses without compromising your 
ability to read what 
others are feeling. You need to construct a mental image of a barrier that you 
can see through or over, 
but that protects your mind from being invaded. You have to make that image 
real, and every day you 
need to work on strengthening that barrier." Q closed his eyes for a moment. 
"Let's try this. I just 
sampled your mother's mind-reading capacity. . . " 


"You did what?" 


"I just briefly probed your mother's mind to sense how powerful her mind-reading 
abilities are. She's 
fine, by the way. Now pay attention. I'm your mother . . ." 


Deanna smiled, then apologized, "Okay, I'm paying attention." 


"Good. It's about time. I'm your mother, and I'm trying to find out any number 
of *sordid* details about 
your love life, whether actual or potential, and I'm bound to tease you about 
them at the next family 
gathering, if not try to make you change your mind altogether. I suspect your 
mother would be even 
*less* impressed your current romantic interest than I am. So I'm Lwaxana, and 
I'm trying to get all 
the information I can, and your job is to keep me out. You need to visualize 
some kind of barrier that 
you can maintain. Since we're just starting, I'm telling you ahead of time. 
Ready?" 


Deanna nodded. Amazingly, insistently, she felt her mother's powerful mind 
intruding upon her own. Q 
was sitting across from her, but in his mental projection, he *was* her mother. 
Deanna forced herself 
to concentrate. She envisioned a two-way mirror, whereby she could observe the 
other person, who 
would only be able to see his or her own reflection. She felt her mother's mind 
trying to see through the 
mirror, and she continued to project her mother's image back, keeping her own 
mind free from 
invasion. This worked for a few moments. She sensed her mother trying to dart 
around the mirror, to 
catch her by surprise behind it, and she forced herself to make the mirror 
wider, longer, and taller. 
Deanna had completely forgotten she was in Ten-Forward, her concentration was so 
intense. Suddenly, 
with a sound of shattering glass echoing through her mind, she felt her mother 
break right through the 
mirror and begin raiding her private thoughts. "Damn!" 


"Not bad, actually," remarked Q, breaking the telepathic connection he had made. 
"This is going to take 
some work, but at least we have a foundation to build upon. I liked the mirror 
thing, but you should 
experiment with some others too." 


Deanna was a little shaken. "How did you do that? I mean . . . " 


"What? Oh, your mother. I can do just about anything. That was easy." Deanna 
blinked. For an instant 
she saw Lwaxana sitting across from her in Q's place. Then he changed back to 
familiar form. "I can 
mimic anyone. I can probe another person so thoroughly that I can replicate that 
person down to the 
smallest detail of both appearance and behavior. During our little test, I 
didn't see any point in taking on 
your mother's appearance, so I simply mimicked her mind-reading abilities and 
the way she would react 
if you tried to keep her out. You know, if you do get better at this, she won't 
take it kindly." 


"I know," laughed Deanna, "but I would like the privacy." 


At that moment Worf entered Ten-Forward. He was not pleased to see Q and Deanna 
at a table together. 
"Deanna!" he exclaimed as he strode up to the table, "You should be careful. 
He's not to be trusted." 
Then he glared at Q, adding, "If you do one thing to harm her . . ." 


Q sighed, shaking his head, "If I had it in mind to harm her, there's not a 
single thing you could do to 
stop me. I could turn you into a bowl of Klingon gagh with a thought. You're 
wasting your breath making 
threats you can't fulfill." 


"Worf!" snapped Deanna, half-annoyed and half-flattered at his protectiveness, 
"I believe I can spend 
my free time talking to whomever I choose. If you're worried, I have no romantic 
interest in Q. He's 
helping me improve my empathic skills, and you should be grateful. Don't you 
remember? I almost killed 
myself when I was investigating Lieutenant Kwan's suicide, just as he did. If Q 
can help me be less 
susceptible to being overwhelmed by empathic experiences like that, I'll be a 
lot better off." 


Worf's demeanor softened, and he said gently, "I'm sorry Deanna. I just don't 
trust him, but you are of 
course entitled to make up your own mind." 


Q was about to make some sarcastic rejoinder to Worf, when Picard walked in. 
Instantly he forgot 
about his tablemates. Picard was far more interesting than Worf and Troi 
combined. 


"Hello Q, Lieutenant, Counselor," Picard greeted the three in turn. "Having a 
little party?" 


"Not exactly," growled Worf. Just then Worf received a summons from Riker to the 
bridge and 
departed reluctantly, glancing back at Deanna. 


"I'll see you later," she smiled. 


Q, meanwhile, had invited Picard to join them. As the Captain sat down, he 
asked, "Q, are you giving 
Worf a hard time again?" 


"Moi? I was giving our fair Counselor a lesson in focusing her empathic 
abilities, when the Lieutenant 
came charging up, once again opining that he doesn't trust me. I believe I've 
been exercising remarkable 
restraint at these provocations." 


Deanna remarked, "Well, for my sake, try not to vaporize him, all right?" 


"I'll do my best," replied Q. 
  


Chapter 7 


A couple of mornings later, Q was lying on his bed reading. He could, of course, 
absorb the contents of a 
book instantaneously, but he was trying to see what the experience of reading 
was like. Even so, his 
speed was awesome, so Picard had provided him with a series of novels, 
philosophical works, books of 
poetry, and the like, insisting that if Q wanted to understand human nature, he 
should study human 
writings, artworks, and music. His reading was interrupted by the door chime, 
however. Q was in the 
habit of not wearing clothes when he was in his quarters, since he didn't see 
much point to them, but 
after he heard the chime, a lavish dressing gown materialized around him. "Yes?" 
he responded lazily. 


Picard entered the room, carrying two backpacks, which he put down by the door. 
"Good morning, Q. 
I've decided to take a day or two off and go down to Rydal to do some hiking--
there's some beautiful 
scenery. I want to be out in real air, with real trees, and real streams, and 
real ground under my feet. 
Care to join me?" 


"Hiking?" queried Q. "I don't believe I've ever gone hiking. If there's a place 
I want to get to, I normally 
just go there." 


"Of course," noted Picard, "you would. But if you want to understand humans, 
here's an opportunity. 
For us, in many of our recreational pursuits as well as more serious ones, the 
experience, the process 
of getting somewhere or working toward a goal is as significant and as 
enjoyable, if not more so, than 
actually attaining it. In hiking, the physical exertion and the sights one sees 
along the way make the 
ultimate destination all the more rewarding." 


Q still looked puzzled. "Well, I still don't really get the point, but I'll be 
glad to give it a try. Of course, 
it's not going to be physical exertion for me, but maybe I can watch you get 
worn out and try to imagine 
what's enjoyable about it." 


"I'll have you know my stamina is excellent," snapped Picard. 


"Of course, Jean-Luc, of course," murmured Q soothingly. "What's in those?" he 
gestured toward the 
backpacks. 


"Supplies. Food, water, thermal blankets, and the like." 


"You don't actually expect me to *carry* one of those do you? You must realize 
that I can just provide 
whatever you need whenever you need it. *I* don't *carry* things." 


Picard laughed. "Yes, but I want you to have the full experience. This is *my* 
expedition, Q. If you're 
coming, we're going to do it my way." 


"Yes, Captain," returned Q, snapping off a sharp salute. "Your word is my 
command." 


"Well, you might want to get dressed." 


In a flash, Q was wearing khaki hiking shorts, an olive-green t-shirt, and 
hiking boots. He spun slowly, 
asking in a demure voice, "Will I do?" 


"You look lovely," declared Picard, tossing Q one of the backpacks. "Let's go. I 
have another adventure 
awaiting you." 


"What's that?" 


"The transporters are down because of the repairs. We're taking a shuttlecraft." 


"Am I taking my life in my hands?" queried Q. 


"Oh ye of little faith," retorted Picard. "I'm going to give you a ride even you 
will see fit to write home 
about. And don't offer to teleport us to the surface . . . " 


"I know, we're doing this your way. I can't wait." 


At that moment Beverly Crusher's voice came over Picard's comm badge. "Captain, 
I understand you're 
taking a shuttlecraft down to the surface. Counselor Troi and I were wondering 
if we could hitch a ride 
with you." 


"Certainly. Meet us in shuttlebay 3 in five minutes." 


As the four entered the shuttlecraft, Crusher asked, "Can you drop us off at the 
university? I have a 
meeting with Dr. Reynolds--he's doing some fascinating research with introns. 
He's offered to show me 
his latest results in exchange for some tissue samples from the time the crew 
was infected with 
Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome. And Deanna's having lunch with an old college 
friend who's a 
psychology professor there." 


"Well, I'd wear your seat belts, ladies," remarked Q, "our Captain seems to have 
it in mind to show 
off." 


"Yes," laughed Beverly, "Jean-Luc has always been proud of his piloting skills." 


Picard looked at his passengers, rolled his eyes in exasperation, and got 
clearance for departure. After 
the huge shuttlebay doors gaped open, the small craft shot out. Q noted with 
amusement that Picard 
was, in fact, showing off, piloting the shuttlecraft manually. They weaved at 
impressive speeds around 
the ships in the space dock, then zoomed down toward the planet surface, while Q 
asked idly, whether 
starship captains ever got speeding tickets. 


Picard smoothly landed the craft at the university's landing pad. As the women 
walked toward the main 
campus, Beverly asked Deanna, "Have you noticed that whenever the Captain's 
around, Q is oblivious to 
everything else? He never took his eyes off Jean-Luc the whole way." 


"Yes," noted Deanna, "The other night I was talking to Q in Ten-Forward--he's 
helping me with refining 
my empathic abilities, and he's actually being very patient--but when the 
Captain came in, it was as if I 
ceased to exist. Not very flattering, I have to confess." 


At that moment, both women heard a voice speaking inside their heads. //Now, 
now, ladies, it isn't 
polite to gossip behind someone's back, particularly when that 
someone has the capacity to read minds even at interstellar distances. You may 
congratulate 
yourselves on your powers of observation, but I would advise you to 
keep your insights to yourselves. Trust me, you don't want to give me an excuse 
to demonstrate just 
how many of *your* secrets I could unearth. Why I can tell 
you things about yourselves that you don't even know yet. The subconscious mind 
is a wondrous place, 
and I just *love* to explore.// 


"Is that a promise or a threat, Q?" laughed Deanna. "But, don't worry. Beverly 
and I are professionals-
-we're used to keeping confidences." 


//I'm glad to hear it.// 


//Q?// queried Deanna mentally, //I do think we should talk about this at some 
point.// 


//That figures. And if I am to confide in you about my predeliction for your 
Captain, are you going to 
reciprocate and explain to my satisfaction your unaccountable 
attraction to a certain Klingon?// 


//Okay, okay, Q, I get your point.// 


"You were still talking to him, weren't you?" asked Beverly. 


"Yes. He's not so bad when you get to know him. I'm firmly convinced that his 
bark is a lot worse than 
his bite, to coin a phrase." 


"I'm not so sure about that." 


As Deanna and Beverly went to their separate appointments, Picard was giving Q a 
shuttlecraft tour of 
Rydal IV. The Captain was uncharacteristically exuberant, and he buzzed mountain 
peaks and skimmed 
oceans in an almost adolescent display of his prowess. "You never cease to amaze 
me, Jean-Luc. You 
and I are even more alike than I thought," remarked Q. 


"I'm not trying to show off!" declared Picard hotly, "I'm simply releasing 
tension--the past several 
days have been rather stressful, if you can understand that." 


"Of course you're not trying to show off," replied Q in his most insinuatingly 
soothing tone, "the 
Captain of the USS Enterprise would never do such a thing. It wouldn't be very 
responsible of him, now 
would it?" Continuing his train of thought to himself, he mused, //I can think 
of better ways to release 
tension than flying this little bucket of bolts around, but if it makes Jean-Luc 
happy, I might as well 
enjoy the ride.// 


"Q, be quiet for a change, and look." Picard gestured out the window to a chain 
of mountain lakes, 
shimmering with a startling purple hue. "That's quite a color, isn't it? The 
Rydals have always had a 
strong environmental consciousness, and as they developed new technologies, they 
simultaneously 
developed the means to prevent ecological damage. So their lakes and streams 
have never had the types 
of pollution problems we used to have on Earth." 


"It is beautiful," acknowledged Q. 


Picard flew the small craft lower, following the chain of lakes until he 
approached a flat meadow in a 
mountain valley where he landed. "All right, Q, it's time for you to enjoy the 
wonders of nature from 
our limited human perspective." 


Q made a face, then slipped his arms through the straps of the backpack. 
"Whatever you say, Captain." 


As they struck off toward the trail Picard had selected, both lapsed into 
silence. Their surroundings 
were so quiet, that speaking aloud seemed a violation, and, as if by unspoken 
agreement, they 
conversed silently, Q projecting into Picard's mind and reading his responses. 
As they followed a trail alongside a stream, Q studied Picard, finally asking, 


//Why did you ask me to 
go with you?// 


//Why don't *you* tell me?// 


//Are you inviting me to read your mind?// 


//I figured you already were.// 


//No, I'm only reading your responses. I told you I would try to respect your 
privacy. And I want to 
hear it in your own words.// 


//I invited you because I wanted to be a good host, but I also wanted your 
company, and I wanted to 
reflect on recent events away from the ship. I wanted to be out 
in nature and get some exercise in a real environment, but I also wanted to have 
you along to talk to so 
I could get to know you better. And I thought it would be good 
for you to do something on my terms instead of the other way around.// 


//Fair enough.// 


//You see//, explained Picard, now feeling perfectly at ease with this silent 
form of communication, 
//if you simply transport yourself to your destination, 
you miss a great deal along the way. I'm sure you've experienced wonders of a 
magnitude I can't begin 
to imagine. But really observing something small in detail can 
be wondrous too. The English poet and artist, William Blake, described it as 'To 
see a World in a Grain of 
Sand / And a Heaven in a Wild Flower.' I so rarely have the 
opportunity to clear my mind and have that type of experience.// 


//I'm afraid I don't understand.// 


//Look//, said Picard, removing his backpack and casting himself down on the 
ground. Q crouched down 
next to him. The grass was studded with myriad tiny blue 
flowers with minuscule petals and leaves. //Just look at those flowers. Don't 
compare them with other 
sights you've seen. Just look at them. Notice the details, 
how the petals flare out from the stem, how the leaves surround it. There's such 
wonderful variety in 
this galaxy, it's a shame not to notice more of it.// 


Q did try, and for a moment he felt something of the sensation Picard described, 
but it didn't last more 
than an instant. Having memorized the details of the flower he was observing, 
he, without trying to, 
created a perfect version of it in his brain, with more brilliant colors and 
more perfectly shaped petals. 
The real thing paled 
by comparison. He shook his head a little sadly and turned to Picard, //I can 
share your feeling of awe 
to an extent, but I really can't feel anything like it on my 
own. I can't be dazzled by anything in nature because I can create a more 
perfect version of it, 
instantly.// A flawless tiny flower with startlingly blue petals and 
shimmering, perfect, jewel-like leaves appeared in his hand. As Picard watched, 
the petals opened up, 
as an impossible array of colors rippled around them, 
followed by what appeared to be infinitesimal stars glowing from the flower's 
petals. 


//That's amazing; I've never seen anything like it//, conceded Picard, //but 
there is a type of beauty 
in that which is not flawless, a kind of beauty in 
imperfection as well.// 


//Well, that must be true//, thought Q to himself. //Jean-Luc is far from 
perfect, and yet I'm dazzled 
by him.//  He then responded to his companion, //I 
agree, but it takes a certain leap of imagination to really appreciate that kind 
of beauty. For me, there 
is no distinction between the literal and the imagined; anything I can imagine I 
can simply materialize. I 
can enjoy observing the pleasure *you* get from these sights, but I'm never 
going to have the same 
sensation on my 
own.// 


//A pity//, remarked Picard, //I'm afraid I don't envy you your condition. I 
find it hard to believe 
that it seemed at all appealing to me. No offense.// 


//None taken. You adjusted to being a Q even more poorly than I adjusted to 
being human. Fortunately in 
both cases, the transformations were temporary. My 
condition does have certain advantages, however//, noted Q as he leapt to his 
feet, then extended a 
hand to help Picard up. //For instance, I'll always have 
hair.// 


Picard laughed as he hoisted his backpack. //Ah, yes, yet another significant 
goal for humans' future 
evolution--'charting the unknown possibilities of existence' 
and preventing baldness.// 


//I told you your species has a long way to go//, remarked Q as they continued 
along the trail. As they 
walked, Picard delighted in breathing actual air and in 
observing the sights around him, but Q only had eyes for his companion. The 
scenery was a pleasant 
backdrop, nothing more. Hearing a sound of rushing water in the 
distance, Picard struck off in its direction and was enchanted to find a 
waterfall cascading into a pool of 
that impossibly purple water. Q was equally enchanted but 
for a different reason. Observing that Picard had put down his backpack and was 
standing near the edge 
of the pool, gazing raptly at the waterfall, Q opined, //It 
seems to me that a pool like this must be here for a reason. And there's only 
one reason I can think 
of.// 


Before Picard could exclaim, "Q, don't you dare!" Q had, with a light but 
effective touch, pushed his 
companion into the water. Picard's reflexes were faster than Q 
had anticipated, and he had enough time to grab his tormentor's arm and yank him 
into the water with 
him. As he sputtered to the surface, Picard heard a mocking 
voice echo through his mind, //If you're going to invite me on a hiking trip, 
then you should have 
anticipated trouble.// 


//Is that so?// returned Picard, further drenching his hiking partner with a 
mighty splash. Away from 
the Enterprise and his command duties, and in reaction to 
the strain of the past several days, Picard was uncharacteristically giddy and 
uninhibited. This would 
not have been the case had he been aware of the extent and 
nature of Q's interest in him, but as it was, he figured that Q knew him inside 
and out anyway, and he 
had nothing to lose. After engaging in a vigorous splashing 
contest, the two began enjoying the water in their own characteristic fashions. 
Picard swam laps back 
and forth, relishing the exercise and the sensation of plowing 
purposefully through the water. Q, by contrast, floated lazily on his back, his 
arms behind his back, as 
if he were on a raft. He was taking great pleasure in watching Picard's lean 
figure swim past, as the 
Captain's wet uniform highlighted his flowing muscles. At one point, without 
stopping, Picard demanded, 
//What are you 
smiling about, Q?// 


//You don't want to know, Jean-Luc, believe me.// 


//No doubt//, came Picard's reply. 


When they finally emerged from the water, Q instantly dried their drenched 
clothes, figuring it was the 
least he could do. Picard's unexpected baptism had somehow altered his state of 
mind to the point where 
he felt completely relaxed with Q, as if he had found a long-lost brother and 
had finally gotten over the 
awkwardness caused by their separation. As they continued up the trail, they 
walked almost touching. 
While Q's usual violations of his personal space normally put Picard on edge, he 
was so transformed by 
the release of tension his swim had caused, that it seemed perfectly natural to 
be in such close physical 
proximity to his companion. Blissfully unaware of Q's romantic impulses toward 
him, Picard allowed a 
wave of affection and gratitude for Q to wash through him, with a sensation of 
comfortable intimacy. 


When they reached the spot where Picard purposed to spend the night, the sunset 
was about to begin, 
and the pair sat close together, hands clasped over their knees, elbows 
touching. Watching the sunset, 
they felt no need to talk, but simply to absorb each other's presence in 
harmonious silence. As it grew 
dark, Q lay on his back watching the stars emerge, while Picard ate his dinner. 
Q had taken one look at 
the rations Picard had provided and disdainfully refused them. Since he didn't 
need to eat or drink, he 
only did so if he was being offered a particular treat that would provoke an 
intense sensation. This 
time, however, he merely glanced at Picard's meal and muttered, "How can you eat 
that stuff?" 


As the night air grew colder, Picard's shoulders began to stiffen from carrying 
the backpack all day. He 
was so comfortable with Q's presence that it seemed perfectly natural to him 
when the entity sat down 
behind him and began massaging his neck. Normally, Picard felt a sufficient 
degree of wariness and 
alertness around Q that the merest touch would have made him jump; this evening, 
however, he had 
completely lost his usual hyper-awareness of the extent of Q's power. As Q 
erased the soreness from 
his neck and shoulders, Picard's eyes began to close. Q reached into the 
backpack and pulled out a 
sleeping pad and thermal blanket. Picard was suddenly so sleepy he rolled over 
onto the sleeping pad and 
didn't register Q gently covering him with the blanket. Q, of course, did not 
need to sleep. He spent the 
night sitting up next to his sleeping companion, one hand draped lightly on 
Picard's arm, in an 
uncharacteristically blissful state. His usual restlessness and nervous energy 
had evaporated, and he 
could have sat there happily for days, watching his favorite sleep, his eyes 
lingering on the angular 
beauty of Picard's face. 


The next morning, Picard woke up to the aroma of hot Earl Grey tea. As he rubbed 
his eyes and sat up, 
Q handed him a mug, smiling, and greeting him with "Morning, Captain. Did you 
sleep well?" 


Picard nodded. "Thank-you for the tea." 


"Thank-*you*, Jean-Luc." 


"For what?" 


"For inviting me. I can't really explain what I'm feeling, but it's something I 
can't remember feeling for 
an unimaginably long time." 


"I'm glad you accepted the invitation," replied Picard. He was somewhat puzzled 
by Q's enigmatic 
remarks, but he realized there was no way he was going to get anything out of Q 
that the entity did not 
choose to reveal. 


After packing their belongings, they headed downhill on a different trail, 
sometimes conversing 
silently, more often not. They were comfortable enough together that they had no 
need to sustain a 
conversation. The way down was more direct than the path they had taken up, and 
they reached the 
shuttlecraft by early afternoon and headed back toward the Enterprise. 


Back in his quarters, Picard unpacked his backpack, when a tiny glittering 
object fell out. It was the 
flower Q had created, and as Picard picked it up, it went through the same array 
of transformations 
that Picard had previously witnessed, then the tiny stars blinked out, and the 
flower returned to its 
original blue color. Picard smiled, both surprised and touched at the gift Q had 
surreptitiously given 
him, and placed the flower in a safe place. 


* * * 


While Q and Picard were on their expedition, an alien entity loitered in the far 
reaches of the Alpha 
Quadrant, its energy close to restored after its long journey. Soon it would 
begin moving again, taking 
its time, seeking out prey. It had been a long time since it had had its boredom 
alleviated. 
  


Chapter 8 


After showering and changing, Picard stepped squarely back into a businesslike 
demeanor. He consulted 
with La Forge about the ongoing repairs to the weapons systems, made some 
suggestions to Worf about 
security for the upcoming negotiations with the Cardassians, and otherwise made 
his presence felt on 
board the ship. The Enterprise would be ready to depart Rydal in a few days, and 
it was time to shake 
off the lethargy the long layover had caused in most of the crew. 


As Picard was finishing up his log entry at the end of the day, a message popped 
up on his computer 
terminal. It read, "Jean-Luc, would you care to join me for a drink in Ten-
Forward at 2100 hours? 
Beverly." He smiled; she had left him about 20 minutes to finish his work and 
freshen up, and he was 
quite happy to get out of the confines of his ready room. He wondered 
momentarily what Q was doing 
with himself, but he figured Q was an adult (or some approximation thereof) and 
didn't need to be 
amused every minute. 


Joining the doctor in Ten-Forward, Picard ordered drinks, and asked, "And was 
your meeting with Dr. 
Reynolds informative?" 


"Yes, his research is quite fascinating. And I was very impressed with the 
facilities at the university. 
Medical students certainly have it much easier these days. But what I'm curious 
about is your hiking 
trip. How did it go?" 


"Very well. Q is a very diverting companion. I keep surprising myself at how 
relaxed I can feel with 
him." 


"Do you trust him, Jean-Luc?" 


"Yes, actually, I do. Although these are the last words I would have ever 
imagined myself using to 
describe him, he's being really quite considerate and thoughtful. When I awoke 
this morning, he had a 
mug of tea waiting for me. Granted, doing me favors is effortless for him, but 
he seems genuinely 
concerned about my comfort and welfare. I do have to warn you, though, if we're 
talking about him, 
he's probably eavesdropping, and if I say too many nice things about him, he's 
bound to cause some sort 
of trouble later, just so he can't be accused of getting soft." 


"I'm having a hard time imagining the two of you chatting together. What do you 
talk about?" asked 
Beverly as she sipped her drink. 


"Well, much of it is comparing perspectives. I guess I almost feel sorry for 
him. Since he has seen so 
much, and since he can pretty much create anything he wants, he doesn't have the 
capacity to be moved 
or awed by anything in nature. I told him I don't envy his condition." 


Beverly nodded. "Deanna's finding him easy to get along with too. I don't know, 
Jean-Luc. I can't quite 
bring myself to trust him. He's caused us so much suffering." 


"True. I don't believe he ever meant to harm us, though. Get a reaction, yes. 
Try to force us to 
acknowledge his superiority, yes. Teach us a lesson of his own devising, yes. 
But I don't think he really 
intended harm. He's also had to act as the representative of the Continuum. As 
we have seen with Q, 
they can be quite coercive when one of their own doesn't acquit himself 
according to their dictates. 
And, if you recall, they were prepared to assassinate Amanda if she didn't meet 
their standard. I 
suspect many of Q's attitudes arise from the fact that he is as much a product 
of *his* environment as 
we are. He *is* changing though. As I said during the conference, he has made 
himself the mediator 
between the Continuum and us, and he has taken our side against them on more 
than one occasion." 


"What happened, Jean-Luc, during the border confrontation with the Cardassians?" 


Picard put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Beverly, I don't know if I'm ready 
to talk to you about it. I 
did something very foolish, I let my pride get the better of me and then I . . . 
well, I think I wasn't 
myself. I can't . . ." Beverly put her hand on Picard's, and he clasped it 
tightly. Picard continued, "but Q 
has earned my lifelong gratitude. I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for him." 


"Well, in that case, I have reason to be grateful to him as well." 


The Captain and the doctor smiled at each other, their hands clasped. Beverly 
was extremely uneasy at 
Picard's reluctance to confide in her, and she was additionally uneasy at Q's 
obvious attraction to 
Picard. But as to the first cause of her uneasiness, she knew she had to trust 
Jean-Luc to know what 
was best for himself, and as to the second, she had no intention of being the 
person to enlighten him. 


Q, meanwhile, was lying on the saucer section, chin in hands, eavesdropping, as 
Picard had suspected, 
on the Captain's conversation. He decided to keep his reactions to himself, 
however. When Picard and 
Crusher clasped hands, Q felt a surge of jealousy lurch through him. He tried to 
distract himself by 
wondering what would have happened if he had, as he once told Picard he should 
have, appeared as a 
woman. He wouldn't have found it too difficult to provoke Picard's interest, he 
figured. It would have 
been easy enough to create himself as the type of woman Picard would be 
attracted to--both intelligent 
and attractive, independent, self-sufficient, passionate, and challenging. He 
took a kind of wickedly 
sadistic pleasure in imagining Picard's reaction if he *had* seduced the Captain 
in female form then 
resumed his usual appearance. Picard would have been utterly horrified, and Q 
had no intention of 
violating Picard's growing trust in him to that extent. But he was not above 
finding the notion 
perversely amusing in theory even if he didn't intend to put it into practice. 
At any rate, Q really 
couldn't envision himself remaining content in the form of a human female. Even 
though gender did not 
have anything like the same significance in the Continuum, he had always 
envisioned himself in 
masculine terms. 


Q turned his attention away from his reflections long enough to observe that 
Picard kissed Beverly 
good-night, but did not follow her into her quarters. Q felt relieved and then 
immediately felt furious 
for feeling such a human emotion as jealousy. He passed his fingers over his 
lips with a very human-
sounding sigh, then returned in a wrathful mood to his quarters. 


* * * 


Q was reclining on his bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying his hiking 
expedition with the Captain in 
his mind. Suddenly he sat up with alarm and rematerialized instantly in Picard's 
quarters, fortunately 
remembering to acquire some clothes in the process. Picard was in the throes of 
a nightmare and was 
obviously distressed. Q sat near the head of the bed, gently waking him. 
Picard's eyes opened suddenly, 
but as soon as he recognized Q, he began to relax. "I was dreaming . . . the 
Borg . . ." he murmured 
incoherently. 


"I know," said Q softly, holding Picard's hands. "How often do you have these 
nightmares?" 


"Every two or three months, I think. It's either the Borg or my captivity with 
the Cardassians. I don't 
take to helplessness and violation very well, apparently," replied Picard, 
trying to assume a forced 
nonchalance. 


"I can stop the nightmares from coming back. It won't erase your memory of the 
events--you just 
won't dream about them." 


"I'd appreciate that." 


Q stared intently at Picard for a moment, then relaxed his gaze. "No more 
nightmares. Courtesy of Q." 


"Thank-you," said Picard, with a palpable relief. 


Q got up and began to pace, running his fingers through his hair. "I feel 
responsible for what happened to 
you with the Borg. The Continuum wouldn't let me help you, and I was too much of 
a coward to defy 
them, when I was already on parole. I don't think I can ever begin to convey to 
you how sorry I am, 
both for exposing you to the Borg in the first place and for not stopping them 
from hurting you." 


"If you feel responsible for that," returned Picard bluntly, "then you ought to 
feel responsible for the 
lives of almost 11,000 people who were killed in the Borg attack. What happened 
to me is utterly 
trivial by comparison." 


"I know that, but I don't have it in me genuinely to understand the significance 
of the lives of 11,000 
people. I'm sorry, but that's just how I am. Your suffering ripped me apart more 
than anything I've 
experienced in centuries, but my attachment doesn't extend to your species." 


"When the Continuum was testing me last time, with the temporal paradox, you 
were only helping 
*me*? The elimination of an entire species didn't concern you?" 


"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid." 


"Well, Q, I do hope that you learn the value and significance of human life, and 
I am going to take it upon 
myself to educate you as long as you reside on board my ship. You have a lot to 
learn, my friend." 


Q gazed raptly at Picard. With a small burst of light, a notebook and pen 
appeared in his hand. "Oui, mon 
professeur, when do my lessons start?" 


Picard smiled. "You know, I didn't mean to be harsh, Q. I *don't* hold you 
responsible for the Borg 
incursion. Undoubtedly it would have happened much later if it weren't for your 
fit of pique in Ten-
Forward, but when it did happen, we would have been completely unprepared. The 
results might have 
been even more catastrophic when the Borg did show up." 


"That's very kind of you, Captain. But I don't often feel guilty, so allow me to 
indulge myself in this 
matter. I've caused you a lot of grief, and I do regret it . . . " 


"Although you enjoyed yourself thoroughly at the time." 


"Data suggested the same thing, but it wasn't really enjoyment, Jean-Luc. I was 
trying to alleviate a 
boredom so pronounced you can't begin to imagine it, but I can't say I found 
tormenting you exactly 
enjoyable. Stimulating, yes, but not a pleasure in a positive sense. You know I 
really was sincere in my 
desire to join your crew." 


"You offered to renounced your powers." 


"Yes, in a moment of weakness. I was that desperate for companionship. Having 
actually experienced 
human frailty, however, I'm infinitely relieved you didn't take me up on my 
offer. And speaking of my 
powers, you look like you could use some rest, Jean-Luc. I can guarantee you a 
restful sleep for the 
rest of the night." 


"Well, I think I'll take you up on that." 


"What time do you want to wake up?" 


"0600 hours." 


"Consider it done. Good-night, Jean-Luc." 


"Thank-you, Q. Good-night." 


* * * 


Within a few more days, the repairs to the weapons systems were complete, and 
the Enterprise was 
dispatched on its delicate diplomatic mission with the Cardassians. Once those 
talks were complete, the 
Enterprise was to return to Angria, to complete the process of evaluating the 
Angrians' petition to join 
the Federation. En route, the ship and its personnel returned to normal 
routines, and people were 
beginning to take Q's presence as a matter of course. Guinan, Data, and Troi 
were quickly becoming 
friends with him, although Crusher, Riker, and Worf remained wary and 
suspicious. 


Geordi La Forge was quickly learning the benefits of having Q on board the 
Enterprise, however. 
Several hours after their departure from Starbase 329, Q suddenly materialized 
in Engineering. La 
Forge looked up curiously, as Q hadn't shown any interest in Engineering before. 
Q leaned back against a 
wall, folded his arms, and announced, "You might be interested to know, Mr. La 
Forge, that your 
navigational deflector is about to go." 


As La Forge hastened to check the appropriate panels, Data's voice came over his 
comm badge, "Data to 
La Forge, we are experiencing navigational deflector failure." 


"I'm on it, Data," replied La Forge. "Damn! All three generators are down--
somebody screwed up 
during the repairs." 


Q asked casually, "Would you like me to effect your repairs?" 


"Thanks, but I'd like to find out the source of the problem. It would be helpful 
if you could . . . umm . . . 
substitute for the deflector for a while." 


"I'm already doing so." While Q was speaking he was continuously monitoring the 
Enterprise's hull, 
diverting any number of interstellar particles away from the ship. He quickly 
grew bored watching La 
Forge and his crew at work and rematerialized on the bridge. He stood for over 
two hours, legs apart, 
arms folded, maintaining his own version of a deflector field around the ship 
until the necessary repairs 
were performed, at one point moving a a fairly sizable asteroid out of the 
Enterprise's path. 


After La Forge had dressed down the members of his staff who had failed to 
doublecheck and triplecheck 
the deflector system and had profusely apologized to the Captain for this lapse, 
he headed to Ten-
Forward for a much-needed drink. Q was in his now-regular position at the bar, 
chatting with Guinan 
and materializing drink orders out of thin air. La Forge went up to the bar, 
greeted Guinan, and asked, 
"Q, care to join me for a drink?" 


Q smiled, turned to Guinan and remarked, "I am the soul of popularity these 
days," and joined La Forge 
at a table. 


"How did you know the deflector was going before the computer alerted us?" asked 
La Forge. 


"Call me over-cautious, but I'm monitoring most of the ship's systems all the 
time. I could hear the 
generators suddenly powering down before the computer registered it." 
Geordi shook his head in amazement. "But how?" 


"I'm omniscient, remember? My mind can focus on any number of things at the same 
time. For instance, 
Picard is in his ready room, reading. Dr. Crusher is giving Ensign Calderon a 
prenatal exam. Worf is 
checking Alexander's homework, and Alexander is protesting vehemently. Riker and 
Data are rehashing 
last night's poker game, and Data is commenting on the relative probability of 
the same person 
achieving a full house and four of a kind in subsequent hands. Counselor Troi is 
counseling. The computer 
is running a Level 5 diagnostic of the warp propulsion system. At the Utopia 
Planitia shipyards, the USS 
Navratilova is being commissioned. At the colony on Alcindor, the final game of 
a basketball tournament 
is taking place. At the moment the Quasars are leading the Comets by 14 points 
in the third quarter. In 
the Gamma quadrant, a star is about to go supernova--if you people weren't 
keeping me so busy here, 
I'd go check it out. Shall I continue?" 


"No, that's quite sufficient," remarked Geordi in amazement. Though I wouldn't 
mind the final score of 
the basketball game. My cousin Mark's fianc*e is one of the forwards for the 
Quasars." 


"Can do," remarked Q. 


La Forge hesitated a moment. "Q, I want to thank you for catching that deflector 
failure for me. It's 
pretty reassuring to know you're keeping an eye on things." 


Q smiled, "Just one of the many services I'm happy to provide. By the way, would 
you like to watch 
that game?" 


"Sure!" exclaimed Geordi, and instantly on the tabletop there appeared the image 
of a basketball game 
as if on a viewscreen. As the game progressed, several other Ten-Forward 
customers wandered over 
to La Forge's table to watch. Q had no interest in the game itself, but he was 
fascinated by the intense 
interest La Forge and his shipmates took in a game which seemed utterly 
pointless to him. Even Data, 
who had come in in search of Geordi, was watching curiously. Q could see that a 
certain amount of 
athletic skill was required to throw a ball from 40-50 feet away into a net that 
was 12 feet high, but 
he still didn't see the point of either engaging in such a frivolous activity or 
watching it. The Ten-
Forward patrons had different ideas however. As the fourth quarter progressed, 
exclamations of "What 
a shot!" "Nice play!" and "This game is in the refridgerator!" reverberated 
around the table. 


"In the refridgerator?" asked Q. 


"Old Earth expression, 20th-century," replied Data. "First attributed to 
basketball broadcaster 'Chick' 
Hearn. It was an indication that the outcome of a given game was beyond doubt. A 
refridgerator was a 
device to keep food cold and prevent spoilage." 


"I have to give it to humans," remarked Q, "they have a talent for creative 
metaphors. And you, Data, 
are a font of useful information." 


At this point Picard walked into Ten-Forward. He glanced at Q, automatically 
assuming he was 
responsible for the crowd gathered around Geordi's table. In response to 
Picard's glance, Q explained, 
"Basketball game. The Quasars are leading the Comets by 23 points in the fourth. 
Geordi's cousin's 
fianc*e is on her way to her career high-scoring game." 


"I see," said Picard, walking over to the table. He glanced briefly at the game, 
commented, "Nice shot," 
then turned back to Q. "Q, you're an entertainment system unto yourself." 


"The possibilities are endless, Captain. Can I buy you a drink?" Picard nodded, 
and a drink instantly 
materialized in his hand. He sat down with Q at an adjoining table, and they 
chatted, while Q 
simultaneously continued projecting the basketball game. 


* * * 


Q was proving useful in a number of ways. While the ship was en route to Angria, 
Picard mentally 
summoned Q to his ready room, and Q, ever obliging, appeared. "At your service, 
mon Capitaine." 


"Hello, Q," Picard smiled. "I've just received a message from Vash. She's being 
held prisoner on Elgin 
III, something about plundered artifacts." 


"A*gain*?" 


"She's a creature of habit, apparently. I believe her life is in danger, but I 
would have a hard time 
explaining to Starfleet why I'm committing the resources of a starship to 
getting her out. It would 
constitute interference in the internal affairs of another culture. I was hoping 
you might not object to 
the role of knight in shining armor, acting as a private citizen of course. I 
have to say, I have no idea 
how she managed to get a message out." 


"She's very resourceful," remarked Q wryly, "only not quite resourceful enough 
to keep herself out of 
trouble. So are you mooning over her again, Picard?" 


"You know perfectly well that I am *not*. I have no interest in rekindling a 
relationship, but I don't feel 
like I can abandon her entirely." Q knew it was true; unfortunately for him, 
Picard was much more 
preoccupied with his advancing and retreating relationship with Beverly. Picard 
added, "How about you, 
my omnipotent friend? Are *you* mooning over her?" 


"No, of course not. I feel about the same as you; there's a little nostalgia for 
good times, but nothing 
more. But I agree; I do feel responsible for her. We'll be back in a jiffy." 


Q appeared moments later in Vash's jail cell. She was pacing furiously when Q 
materialized in a 
reclining condition on her bunk. "Well, well, well, the eminent Vash, adding yet 
another career highlight 
to her *distinguished* resume. Really, Vash, the accomodations here are 
dreadful. Didn't you think to 
tip the concierge?" 


"Q! Are you responsible for my getting caught?" 


"Moi? I don't understand why it is that whenever anything bad happens to anyone 
in the entire galaxy, 
even if it's clearly their own *fault*, I'm responsible. I may be omnipotent, 
but I can't be 
*everywhere* at once, and frankly, you shouldn't flatter yourself that I'm 
interested enough in you 
any more to devote the energy to get you punished. No," he said in a bored tone, 
"I'm here to get you 
*out* of trouble, once again. You're lucky I'm immortal; anyone else would get 
really tired of devoting 
this much time to helping you clean up after yourself." 


"If you're so uninterested in me, then why are you here?" 


"Oh, I've developed a sense of responsibility, hard as it may be for *you* to 
comprehend, and anyway, 
a mutual friend of ours asked me to help you out--he wasn't willing to devote 
his starship to doing so." 


"Look, Q, as far as I'm concerned, both you and Jean-Luc Picard are ancient 
history. You're starting to 
sound as stuffy as he is. But I wouldn't mind getting out of this place. I want 
my things first, though." 


"Woman, you are incorrigible. I'll retrieve your personal belongings for you, 
but I won't be a party to 
your plundering this place. Any artifacts you stole will have to remain here." 


"Fine! Have it your way! What has gotten into you, Q?" 


"Can't you tell? I've reformed--I'm the soul of benevolence and charity, 
spreading goodness about the 
galaxy. You should try it some time. I've never understood the appeal of 
unfettered materialism 
anyway. My vices were a little more creative. Shall we go?" 


Q turned his hand palm upward, and Vash's knapsack appeared on it. He draped it 
over her neck and 
shoulder, offered her his arm, and snapped his fingers. Within moments they had 
appeared in Picard's 
ready room. "Where do you want her, Captain? A little visit to the brig might do 
her good." 


"Hello, Vash," said Picard. "Still promoting multicultural understanding, are 
we?" 


"What is *with* the two of you? Since when are you such buddies? Did the 
prospect of ganging up on 
me allow you to overcome your animosity?" 


"Ganging up, my dear?" queried Q. "I'm still waiting for profuse thanks for 
saving your *unscrupulous* 
little life. Jean-Luc, I begin to grow tired of this. Can I please send her to 
Earth? It's such a dreary 
place, it would serve her right." 


"Good idea, Q, but wait a moment. Look, Vash, Q and I do feel responsible for 
you, but we cannot 
continue to get you out of situations you bring upon yourself, and I cannot 
condone the raiding of 
archaeological treasures and artifacts from the cultures which created them. 
We're going to send you 
back to Earth, where you can try to put your talents to a more constructive use, 
but if you get in 
trouble again, don't come crying to us." 


Vash was still fuming, but conceded, "Thank you both for arranging my rescue. 
You have my infinite 
gratitude. I accept your offer of transport to Earth, but I make no guarantees 
as to my future behavior. 
I promise I won't trouble you with my problems. By the way, I can see why I'm no 
longer inspiring the 
same regard in either of you. I can't believe I never realized how well-suited 
the two of you are for 
each other. You make a cute couple, boys." 


"Will you get her out of here, Q?" snapped Picard. 


"My pleasure, Jean-Luc." With that Q waved his arm, and sent Vash on her merry 
way. 


Q, of course, couldn't resist probing Picard to discover the full range of his 
reaction to Vash's final 
remark, and he was exceedingly pleased to note that Picard was far more 
embarrassed than he would 
have been if the comment had not had a grain of truth. Beginning to feel a 
little guilty at this violation of 
Picard's privacy, Q decided to revive the Captain with a touch of male 
complicity. Picard was still 
shaking his head at Vash's departure, and Q nodded sympathetically, saying, 
"Women--you can't live 
with them . . . " and then to himself, //and I wish you could learn to live 
without them.// At this, he 
collapsed on the sofa in a fit of giggles. 


Picard looked at him, grinned, and asked, "What am I going to do with you, Q?" 


"Anything you want, mon Capitaine," declared Q, opening his arms expansively, 
"anything you want." 
  


Chapter 9 


With the confrontation with the Cardassians resolved and with the Enterprise's 
return to normal 
operations, Picard seemed more and more back to his usual self. For all of his 
telepathic ability, Q, as a 
matter of course, screened out what didn't appear to pertain to him directly, so 
he hadn't paid any 
attention to the nature of the Enterprise's current mission. He was feeling 
restless and confined, and it 
seemed prudent to him to check in with the Continuum occasionally, if only so 
they would leave him 
alone the rest of the time. "I'll just be gone a few days," he informed Picard, 
"but if you need me, just 
give me a call." Picard berated himself for the momentary pang of abandonment he 
felt, realizing he had 
allowed himself to become much too dependent on his omnipotent friend. It was 
time to go back to being 
a starship captain. 


Having reminded himself that he was perfectly capable of commanding a starship 
without Q's help, 
Picard sat alert but relaxed in the Captain's chair as the Enterprise entered 
Angria's solar system at 
quarter impulse. Suddenly, inexplicably, the Enterprise stopped dead in space. 
The lights dimmed 
briefly, until auxiliary power came on. "Mr. Data!" exclaimed Picard, "What is 
going on?" 


"I do not know why, Captain, but we have lost all power to the engines and 
weapons systems and 
sensors. We have life support and auxiliary power only." 


"Captain!" exclaimed La Forge over Picard's comm badge, "Matter/antimatter 
reactions have just 
stopped. In fact everything down here has just stopped. All controls are frozen 
as well. It's just not 
possible." 


"Apparently it is, Mr. La Forge." Picard turned back to the ops position. 
"Theorize, Mr. Data." 


"There is no known reason why the entire ship should be frozen like this. 
Sensors did not read any 
approaching ships or anything else for that matter. For the time being, I do not 
have enough information 
to draw upon, and without sensors we're . . . " 


"Blind as a bat," muttered Picard. "Thank-you, Mr. Data." 


"Captain!" declared Riker, unable to keep his thoughts to himself, "the most 
likely candidate in our 
experience who could do this to the ship is Q." 


Picard slowly turned his head toward Riker, and fixed his first officer with a 
glare of pure ice. He said 
slowly and deliberately in an almost inaudible voice, a voice that was chilling 
in its controlled fury, "I 
don't suppose you have the faintest beginnings of an idea of how furious I am, 
Number One. I am 
beginning to wonder whether your obsessive resentment of Q is interfering with 
your ability to 
perform your duties. Has it ever occurred to you that there might be beings out 
there with powers 
resembling Q's? Or do you intend to persist in blaming him for everything, even 
with all indications to 
the contrary?" 


Picard could have continued berating his first officer, since there didn't seem 
to be much else to do, 
when a type of transporter beam began to shimmer on the bridge. From it emerged 
the most stunningly 
beautiful woman any of the bridge crew had ever seen. She was tall with pale 
blue skin and impossibly 
long, flowing silver hair that glinted in the light. Her eyes were of similar 
startling silver color, and 
she wore a jet black uniform that highlighted even more the colors of her skin 
and hair. All the men on 
the bridge were temporarily transfixed, but Picard recovered himself the 
quickest, noting in the 
meanwhile that Deanna Troi was alternately darting furious looks at Worf and 
Riker. 


"I am Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Do you 
think you might do us the 
honor of introducing yourself and explaining why you have disabled my ship?" 


The stranger looked Picard up and down, smiling to herself. "You're a very good-
looking man, Captain 
Picard. Too bad we had to meet under such awkward circumstances." 


"I don't believe we *have* met," remarked Picard pointedly. 


"Introductions will have to wait. I'm in a hurry." At this point, Worf started 
to move toward the 
woman, but with a glance she froze him in his tracks. 


Picard demanded, "What have you done to him?" 


The intruder replied, "He's not harmed, Captain. Just immobilized." She then 
gestured toward the 
viewscreen which immediately revealed the interior of a very small vessel, about 
the size of a 
shuttlecraft. Another woman was aboard, with the same pale blue skin, but hair 
of a darker, although 
still shimmering, hue. She was also stunningly attractive, but not as dazzling 
as her counterpart on the 
bridge of the Enterprise. The woman on the bridge coolly appraised the crew, 
then gestured to Picard, 
Riker, Troi, Data, and Worf in turn. As she gestured to each individual, they 
were instantly transported 
off the Enterprise and reappeared on the small ship, hands and feet bound. The 
woman headed for the 
turbolift, eventually appropriating La Forge and Crusher in the same manner. 
Having deprived the 
Enterprise of what she deemed to be her most essential personnel, she too 
returned to her own vessel, 
leaving the Enterprise suspended helplessly in space. Picard had time to notice 
that there was another 
small ship hovering near the Enterprise, before an irresistable wave of 
unconsciousness swept over 
him and his crew. 


When they awoke, they were no longer in the small ship, but in a small, 
windowless chamber. They 
remained bound with a type of cord that tightened with every attempt to free 
oneself. //Neatly 
done//, thought Picard to himself, //but why?// As he noticed his crew waking 
up, he demanded 
drily, "Can anyone tell me why our sensors did not pick up those ships out there 
*before* they disabled 
the Enterprise?" 


"I can only speculate that they have a type of shielding that conceals them from 
our sensors," replied 
Data. "My best guess is that we are currently on the planet Gondal, the planet 
we were closest to when 
we were intercepted, which according to all reports was uninhabited. Clearly the 
inhabitants have 
developed a technology that renders them impervious to traditional sensors." 


"And transporters as well, no doubt," remarked La Forge. "They haven't bothered 
to remove our 
communicators, so they're obviously not worried about the Enterprise being able 
to make any kind of 
contact with us." 


"These restraints are very effective," remarked Data. "I would not recommend any 
attempts to break 
loose of them. I believe that as they tighten they have the capacity to cut off 
human circulation." Worf 
growled and glared, utterly furious at his helpless condition. 


"Well, they've certainly thought of everything," noted Crusher. "The Enterprise 
is frozen and has been 
emptied of her most essential crew." 


"And do you persist in believing this is the work of Q, Number One?" asked 
Picard acidly. 


Riker stared straight ahead of him and muttered, "I wouldn't put anything past 
him, Sir, with all due 
respect." 


Picard was about to lash out a reply, when a disembodied voice remarked, "No you 
wouldn't, would 
you, Riker?" In a flash Q appeared in the room. "Well, my friends, you've 
certainly gotten yourselves 
in a fix, and one that won't be all that easy to get you out of. I leave you 
alone for a couple of days, and 
look what happens." He turned to Picard, "Why didn't you tell me you were headed 
toward Angria? You 
have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into." 


"You didn't ask. It seems, in retrospect, I was mistaken, but I didn't see the 
need to fill you in on what 
appeared to be a routine mission. But it's not as though I concealed it either. 
What happened to all your 
vaunted mind-reading ability?" 


"It's selective," replied Q casually. 


"This conversation is fascinating, Q, but it's not being conducted under the 
most auspicious of 
circumstances. Since you're here, do you think you might do something about 
that?" 


"Well, Captain, it's not as easy as it looks. I'm going to have to proceed with 
caution. I suppose it won't 
hurt to get rid of those restraints however." Within a moment, all of the 
captured crew members, with 
the exception of Data, were rubbing their wrists and ankles. 


"How do we know that you aren't in cahoots with these people?" demanded Riker. 


Q was composing a withering reply but at that moment, the silver-haired woman 
strode into the room. 
She stopped short when she saw the entity. "You!" she exclaimed. 


"Moi," he replied nonchalantly. Q walked over to the woman, leaned over and 
spoke directly in her ear, 
"It's so nice to see you again, sweetheart. What has it been, a hundred years or 
so? You're still as 
breathtaking as ever." 


"Thank-you. You're not so bad yourself, but you've got yourself some competition 
over there," she said 
nodding toward Picard. 


"You haven't changed a bit, sweetheart. However you won't find him as easy as 
your other conquests." 
Q remained immediately next to the woman, and began twirling a lock of her hair 
idly around his finger. 


She tensed slightly but continued to project a studied confidence. "You're 
including yourself in that 
number, of course." 


"Of course. For a while at least, I was a willing victim." 


Picard snapped suddenly, "This reunion is very touching, Q, but could someone do 
me the courtesy of 
explaining what the hell is going on?" 


"Captain," said Q, "Allow me to present Augusta of Gondal, a former, shall we 
say, acquaintance of 
mine with formidable abilities. Augusta, I presume you know the names of 
everyone here." She nodded, 
while Q continued absently playing with her hair. "I see you've achieved space 
travel since I saw you 
last. That must be putting your goals well within reach." 


"Yes it is, except for the intervention of outsiders, which we do *not* need." 


"I can think of a time when you welcomed outside intervention, my dear." 


"Yes, you would have been a useful ally, but you abandoned me and my cause. It's 
not as though you 
were innocent of interfering with other species before." 


"True enough, but as I explained to you at the time, Augusta, I was not willing 
to be used to further 
anyone *else*'s political agenda. I didn't mind being objectified . . ." 


"Something you were also guilty of," interjected Augusta. 


"I admit it. Mutual objectification seemed as good a basis for a relationship as 
anything else. I did not, 
however, consent to being used as a tool to further your ends. And you seem to 
be doing quite well 
without me." Picard and his crew, meanwhile, seemed hypnotized. They watched and 
listened to the two 
powerful beings before them, but none of them was capable of moving or uttering 
a word. Picard 
realized that Q was deliberately trying to keep them out of commission, but he 
had to keep his thoughts 
to himself. 


Augusta switched into telepathic communication, quickly gesturing toward Picard, 
//You seem to have 
a rather proprietary attitude toward him.// 


//Yes, and I'll thank you to keep your hands off.// 


//I believe he's entitled to make up his own mind about such matters. Does he 
know you're so, shall we 
say, attached to him?// 


//No he doesn't, and he's not going to find out from you, *understand*?// At 
this Q tightened his grip 
on Augusta's hair. 
She took in her breath sharply, but smiled ingratiatingly. //Don't worry. I'm 
not suicidal enough to 
make an enemy of you . . . yet//, the last word being spoken 
only to herself in an inner recess of her mind to which Q had no access. 


//I'm glad we understand that.// Q then spoke aloud, "Sweetheart, we have to 
talk. I'm not going to let 
you harm these people." 


"I'm not interested in harming them, unless it becomes necessary. But I warn you 
not to thwart me. I 
can have their ship destroyed in an instant." 


"And I can destroy you and your entire installation here in an instant. Anyway, 
destroying their ship 
will not serve your purpose. If anything, it would make the Federation more 
likely to become actively 
involved in your affairs." 


"Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps when the Federation sees our destructive potential, 
they'll simply draw a 
quarantine around this entire solar system. I have no quarrel with the 
Federation. I simply want them 
out." 


"So you can wipe out the Angrian government unmolested," remarked Q. 


"That's our right after what they did to us! We have no intention of remaining 
on this rock any longer 
than we have to. I've never seen the planet of my parents' origin. It is time 
for our return, and nothing 
is going to stop us." 


Q put his arm around Augusta's waist and firmly propelled her a few steps away. 
He murmured, "You 
know, when you get fired up about your cause like this, it makes you even more 
desirable." With one 
hand around Augusta's waist, Q reached up with the other, combing back her 
silver hair with his 
fingers. Then he leaned in and kissed her deliberately and lingeringly on the 
lips, noting with 
satisfaction that she still responded to him. Suddenly, his hand flashed, and 
the crew vanished, 
materializing safely on the bridge of the Enterprise. Before they had time to 
realize what had happened, 
the Enterprise was ricocheting across space, coming to a stop well outside of 
Angria's solar system. 


* * * 


Back on Gondal, Augusta gasped with fury, "You . . . *asshole*!" 


"Well, sweetheart," replied Q casually, "I always try to live up to 
expectations." He then turned 
serious. "Those people are under my pledged protection. Nothing happens to them 
or their ship, 
understand? I will be glad to try to talk them into hearing your case, *under 
controlled conditions*, but 
you haven't exactly made the greatest first impression. You can believe me that 
Picard will not take 
kindly to coercion or threats. In fact, you've probably made it more likely that 
he'll take the Angrian 
government's side." 


"In the long run, I don't care. You don't realize how powerful we've become. You 
can't protect every 
ship they send out here. I am perfectly capable of making this region of space 
so unwelcome to 
Federation vessels, that they'll be glad to let us work out our internal affairs 
ourselves." Q considered 
briefly and realized that she might well be right. 


"Augusta," he said in a gentler tone than he had used with her previously. 
"Don't you see what this 
cause of yours has done to you? Even if you are in the right, look at you. 
You're willing to sacrifice 
hundreds, even thousands of lives." 


"Since when has humanoid life meant that much to you?" 


Q smiled, "I've been taking lessons from a remarkable teacher." 


"Well I haven't!" snapped Augusta. "I have no desire to kill anyone, but I will 
do whatever is necessary. 
Angria is my home, and I intend to claim it." 


"Look," said Q softly, "I'll see what I can do. But just remember, I can make 
your life and your cause 
extremely difficult. And *I* will do whatever is necessary to protect those 
people." He paused, then 
added, "I realize I was being unscrupulous, but I really did want to kiss you." 


"I know," she smiled, "I wanted it too, but don't expect me to let you turn my 
head again. I'm a fast 
learner." 


Q bowed, kissed her hand with a grand gesture, then returned himself to the 
Enterprise. 


* * * 


As soon as the Enterprise had stopped its headlong dash through space, Picard 
heard a voice inside his 
head insisting, //Do me a favor, Jean-Luc, and just stay where you are until I 
can get back and explain 
what's going on. You're in deep now.// 


"Status?" demanded Picard. 


"No injuries, all systems back on line," replied Worf, who had quickly resumed 
his customary position. 


"Now what, Captain?" asked Riker. 


"Now we wait. It seems that we're in a situation where we could benefit from Q's 
knowledge and 
experience, and I have no intention of rushing back in there until I know what's 
going on." Picard 
stopped talking and gestured with his head toward his ready room. "Number One, I 
wish to see you 
privately. Mr. Data, you have the bridge." 


As the doors to the Captain's ready room slid shut, Picard turned and gazed 
witheringly at his first 
officer. After a long pause, he queried, "Number One, do you have anything you 
wish to say to me?" 


Riker sighed. "I'm truly sorry, Captain. I see now that Q is apparently on our 
side, but it bothers me 
that I don't understand why. He humiliated me, and I'm having a hard time 
getting over that." 


Picard said in a steely voice, "You humiliated yourself, Number One, just as I 
have time and time again. 
I don't know why it is that whenever Q offers a choice or presents us with a 
decision to make, we 
invariably make the wrong one, but it's time you comprehended that he has no 
intention of harming us. I 
don't believe he ever did. I will grant you that he seems to enjoy mocking and 
toying with us, but he is 
operating for our benefit. He's humiliated me a good deal more than he did you, 
and I've managed to get 
over it. It's time you did because you're letting your resentment of him cloud 
your thinking when we 
need you be clear-headed. Understood?" 


"Yes, sir. I will work on it. It's just that whenever he appears, I can 
literally feel my blood pressure 
going up." 


Picard laughed. "Well, I don't blame you for that." Then his voice turned 
serious, "But I do not want to 
hear another word spoken against him on the bridge or in conference or anywhere 
else. If you have 
evidence that Q is doing something that could interfere with the running and 
safety of this ship, then I 
would appreciate you voicing it to me in private. Otherwise, if you haven't 
anything nice to say, *keep 
a lid on it*!" 


"Yes, sir." 


Picard nodded, and he and Riker returned to the bridge. A few minutes later, Q 
reappeared. He stood on 
the bridge, opened his arms wide, and exhaled. "Home sweet home! So, Captain, 
would you like a 
briefing on the situation in Angria and Gondal?" 


"That would appear to be advisable." Picard turned to Riker, "Conference, five 
minutes." Picard then 
inclined his head in the direction of his ready room. Q raised his eyebrows 
questioningly, and Picard 
nodded. They disappeared off the bridge in a flash. 


"So, Q," remarked Picard once they were in private, "you seem to have friends 
scattered all over the 
galaxy. I had no idea you were so popular." 


"It's my irresistable charm, Captain. But be advised, she has her eye on you. 
I'd watch your back . . . 
and your front for that matter," grinned Q, glancing briefly downward from 
Picard's face. "She's a 
powerful telepath, and if she sees fit to make a serious attempt at seducing 
you, you'll be hard pressed 
to resist. In fact, I don't know of anyone who has. And don't tell me you're not 
flattered by her interest 
in you, Jean-Luc. The chorus of masculine desire I was hearing down there was 
awe-inspiring, and your 
voice wasn't the least of it." 


"I will admit for the sake of argument, that she is the most stunning woman I 
have ever seen. But that 
doesn't mean I am going to act on a glandular impulse." 


Q shrugged. "I don't even have glands, and *I* did, but I forgot that the great 
Jean-Luc Picard *never* 
gives in to his baser desires. He *always* defers to his own superior judgment, 
no matter how 
tempting an offer." 


Picard turned pale, and he looked away from Q. When he turned back, his voice 
had chilled by several 
degrees, "Well, it's a good thing I have you around to remind me of my 
shortcomings, isn't it? I never 
have to worry about thinking too highly of myself with *you* here." 
Q smiled derisively and bowed, "Just a little service I provide, mon Capitaine. 
It's a dirty job, but 
*somebody*'s got to do it." 
Picard turned and headed out of his ready room with a heavy sigh, followed by Q. 
The rest of the senior 
staff were assembling in the observation lounge when they walked in. "So, Q," 
asked Picard, "what can 
you tell us? And what's your part in in all this?" His voice was brisk and 
businesslike, and Troi noticed 
that the usual harmony between Q and the Captain had frosted over. This didn't 
entirely surprise her, 
however. She imagined Q was not the easiest being to get along with on a regular 
basis. 


"My part in all this, Captain, is negligible. A little over a century ago, I 
encountered Gondal while I was 
exploring that part of the galaxy and was surprised to discover a colony of 
people living underground. 
When I met Augusta, I was more than a little impressed. She's rather dazzling." 


"We noticed," remarked Riker drily. 


"Well, on top of that, she has a rather forceful personality. She's very 
motivated, and I found that 
attractive . . . for a while. As you may have surmised from my conversation with 
her, she wanted me 
to ally myself with her cause, and I refused. I felt like I was being used, and 
it didn't agree with me." 


"You, of course, prefer to be on the other end," commented Picard. 


"Have it your way, Captain. As to her cause, which is why we're all gathered 
here now. Many hundreds 
of years ago, on Angria, the sovereign died rather suddenly, leaving his son and 
daughter in a dispute 
over leadership. The son was rather autocratic and had the aristocracy on his 
side, while the daughter 
had many followers among the disenfranchised classes. She and her followers had 
been practicing an 
ancient art long since forgotten on Angria--I believe they excavated some 
ancient texts--and they 
were beginning to develop the rudiments of telepathy and telekinetic powers, but 
on a very limited 
scale. The son did have the armed forces on his side, and, concerned about the 
potential of his sister's 
new powers, he had her and her followers captured and basically dumped on Gondal 
with only minimal 
provisions. 


Augusta is the daughter of that sister. The unwilling colonists managed to eke 
out a living on Gondal. 
They, miraculously enough, got enough to grow on that barren rock to live on, 
and they continued to 
hone and enhance their telepathic and telekinetic powers. Over time, they were 
able to develop very 
sophisticated technology, and they have achieved their final goal, spaceflight. 
At the same time they've 
become almost as powerful as the Q, but with a major difference. Their 
telekinetic abilities are limited 
to what they can see with their own eyes. The reason they've never stopped a 
starship in its tracks 
before is that they didn't have enough technology to get into space themselves. 
But anything they can 
see directly, if only through the viewports of those tiny ships of theirs, they 
can immobilize . . . or 
destroy. They can't shapeshift, they can't teleport themselves over long 
distances, and they can't 
create out of nothing the way I can, but they can do just about whatever they 
like to anything or anyone 
they can see. In a confined space, and assuming there was a reason I didn't just 
want to escape, 
Augusta could offer me a serious challenge, and she's a very determined 
individual. Captain, if you do 
decide to talk to her, I wouldn't do it on this ship." 


"Noted. I take it, then, that she and her followers intend to use their newfound 
technology and their 
powers to return to Angria and claim what they see is their place." 


"*Very* good, Captain. And the reason the Angrians have come out of their long 
isolation and made 
overtures to the Federation is that they want the benefit of the most advanced 
technology they can get. 
If they can wipe out Augusta's ships and other technology, Augusta can't get to 
Angria, and her powers 
don't do her any good. I don't suppose the Angrians told you about this 
particular motivation of theirs." 


"No, they haven't. And that alone would make me inclined seriously to reconsider 
their petition for 
admission. But I do not wish to capitulate to terrorists either. The Angrians 
are guilty of being 
dishonest with us, but I don't think we should just leave them vulnerable to 
being slaughtered. Q, do you 
think there's any way your friend Augusta would be amenable to Federation 
mediation of her people's 
dispute with Angria?" 


"Knowing Augusta, it seems unlikely, unless there was some way to force her into 
realizing that her 
interests would be better served by talking rather than violence. How you're 
going to do that, Captain, I 
don't know. And it's not just her. Her followers are quite determined, and 
they're very set on returning 
to Angria *and* gaining power there. I can't say I blame them. The current 
government consists of a 
group of self-interested cowards, who, to use a singularly appropriate old Earth 
expression, want to 
bomb Augusta and her people back to the Stone Age." 


"Dealing with these political disputes would be a whole lot easier if there were 
a clear sense of who's 
right and who's wrong," remarked La Forge. "If it were up to me personally, I 
wouldn't want to help 
either of these people. I'm glad I went into engineering instead of diplomacy." 


"Yes, your problems down in Engineering seem appealingly clear-cut at the 
moment," sighed Picard. "I 
need to talk to the Sovereign of Angria and let him know I've received more 
information than he's been 
giving us. But in the meanwhile, we're hampered by the fact that if we return to 
Angria's solar system, 
Q's friend Augusta can apparently do whatever she wants to the Enterprise or any 
other ship." 


"Of course, I can counter whatever she does, but not much else productive would 
get done in the 
meanwhile," offered Q. "Ultimately my real advantage over her is that I can get 
you out of there in a 
hurry. As long as we're within her visual range, I'm afraid I'm pretty close to 
meeting my match, much 
as I hate to admit it." Q then spoke mentally to Picard, //If you persist in 
calling her my 'friend' in that 
manner, I'm going to deposit you naked in her bedroom and let her have her way 
with you, so watch it 
Picard! Just because I was involved with her a century ago doesn't make me 
responsible for her 
current behavior. I'm on *your* damn side here.// 


//I'm sorry, Q, you're right. Sometimes you bring out the worst in me.// 


//It's a talent I have, apparently.// 


At that moment, while Q was distracted by his mental conversation with Picard, a 
transporter beam 
shimmered into existence around him, and Q disappeared. Within seconds the 
Enterprise was rocked 
violently by a weapons discharge. Picard was the first back on the bridge, 
yelling, "Shields up! Red 
alert!" then "What the hell is doing that?" 


"I believe it is that ship," remarked Data, gesturing to the viewscreen. Before 
them hung a small 
vessel, about the size of a Daedalus class starship, bristling with armaments. 


"Should we return fire, sir?" asked Riker. 


"No, Number One. They hit us with minimal firepower, aware that our shields were 
down. I believe it 
was merely a warning shot. And I would just as soon not give them an excuse to 
disable our weapons 
systems for the moment." 
  


Chapter 10 


Unspeakably furious at being caught off-guard, Q materialized in a small cabin 
on Augusta's ship. As 
soon as the transporter beam ceased to shimmer, he found himself bound and 
paralyzed, as Augusta and 
two of her most powerful lieutenants focused their mental energies on 
restraining him. "You kidnapped 
*me*?!" gasped Q incredulously. 


"I've been reading up on your encounters with the Enterprise over the past 
several years. It seemed 
like a tactic you'd be familiar with," noted Augusta with a deliberate 
nonchalance. 


"What the hell do you think you're doing, Woman?" 


"Achieving a more balanced equation by removing *you* as a factor, sweetheart. 
It's too bad we have 
to keep you restrained. You'd be very impressed with my ship here. Surprised?" 


"How did you conceal this from me?" 


"Well, I've learned to protect parts of my mind from being probed, even by you. 
The fact that you were 
so awestruck by my charms back on Gondal helped of course. The existence of this 
vessel was a piece 
of information I thought best to keep to myself." 


"You're going to regret this, Augusta. You caught me off-guard, and you've won 
this battle--and I have 
to give credit where credit is due, I'm impressed as hell--but no more kid 
gloves with you, sweetheart, 
you can depend on it." 


"Well, at the moment, you can't move your hands, so it's rather a moot point, 
isn't it?" Augusta 
summoned another guard, a young man with the same pale blue skin and a mane of 
long black hair. She 
turned to Q, laughing at his all-too-obvious reaction, "A feast for the eyes, 
isn't he? You're far too 
susceptible to your aesthetic sensibilities, sweetheart. Anyway, he's my baby 
brother, so behave 
yourself." 


"That's Alex? My, how you've grown, young man." 


Alex sighed, "Look, I didn't like you when you were here before, and I don't 
like you now, and I 
especially don't like being appraised like a piece of meat. My orders are to 
keep you restrained, and you 
can be sure I'll do just that." 


"Yes," said Augusta, "be sure all three of you do just that. He's very 
resourceful." She turned and left 
the room. Q mentally probed his three guards, concluding that he at least had a 
chance of overpowering 
them, but for the time being, he decided to play along and try to figure out 
just what it was that 
Augusta was up to. 


* * * 


"We are being hailed by the enemy vessel," announced Worf. 


"On screen," said Picard. 


"Hello, Captain, we meet again." 


"Under increasingly inauspicious circumstances. What have you done with Q?" 


"Oh he's all right. He's under guard, and he's not too happy about it. I wanted 
to give you a small sample 
of our abilities. Aside from the fact that I can paralyze your ship with my 
telekinetic powers, this baby 
is just riddled with firepower. We've acquitted ourselves very well 
technologically, considering we 
were dumped on a barren rock with only our ingenuity to rely on." 


At this moment, Picard heard a familiar voice in his head: //Well, I'm certainly 
embarrassed. I told 
you she was formidable. Play along with her for the time being. I think I can 
get us out of this, but find 
out as much as you can in the meanwhile.// 


Picard glanced back at the screen. "What is it you want from us?" 


"I want you to stay the hell out of our solar system. The dispute between the 
Angrian government and 
my people is an internal affair, and Federation intervention is not necessary or 
wanted." 


"The Angrian government has petitioned for admission into the Federation. I 
cannot simply ignore their 
request at the coercion of terrorists." 


"Now, Captain, that's not a very nice word." 


"But an accurate one. . ." 


At this point, Augusta interrupted, "I believe this conversation could be 
conducted so much more 
amicably in person, don't you?" Without waiting for an answer, she activated her 
ship's transporter 
beam, and whisked Picard off the Enterprise and into a small lounge-like room on 
her ship. "Can I offer 
you a drink, Captain?" asked Augusta as she entered the room. 


"No, thank-you. I would prefer to return to my ship," replied Picard icily. 


"Well, that may be a problem. You see, my only interest here is convincing your 
Federation to keep out 
of our solar system. As I see it, the best way to do that is to convince 
Starfleet that protecting the 
Angrian government is simply not worth the loss of life and the destruction of 
your fleet I can cause. I 
suppose you could call those terrorist tactics, but I have just as legitimate a 
claim to govern Angria as 
my cousin, the current Sovereign, does." 


"And it is precisely that type of dispute the Federation has experience 
mediating. It seems to me that 
both sides in this dispute have valid claims, and both sides are far too willing 
to gain their objectives 
through violence. You want to rush in, wipe out the current government of 
Angria, destroying many 
innocent lives in the process, without even attempting to talk and negotiate. I 
don't understand that at 
all. I would urge you to consider Federation mediation." 


"My so-called uncle didn't avail himself of any mediation when he dumped my 
mother and her followers 
on Gondal," snapped Augusta. "And the current government did not inform you of 
their real reason for 
seeking Federation involvement. These are not people who are going to listen to 
mediation. The first 
opportunity they have to get adequate technology, they will destroy what we have 
built over centuries. 
. ." 


"Just as you intend to destroy them," interjected Picard. 


"I can be very selective in my offensive capabilities. I am simply going to 
eliminate the people who are 
obstacles in my path, and I am going to govern Angria in a just fashion, unlike 
my cousin." 


"You cannot found a just government on murder and terrorism!" exclaimed Picard. 


"Look, I'm tired of this conversation. You're my hostage, Captain, and you're 
going to convince the 
Federation to deny Angria's petition and to stay out of our solar system 
altogether. If you cannot get 
them to agree to that, then I'm going to destroy your ship as an example of what 
I can do." 


"The Federation will not cave in to your demands any more than I would. But they 
will do whatever is 
possible to work out an equitable resolution to your dispute . . ." 


"No! There's no such thing. I am going to contact the Federation Council now, 
and you will deliver my 
ultimatum, Captain, or lose your ship." 


"It won't work," said Picard quietly. "The Federation will never capitulate to 
terrorist demands, lest it 
encourage more terrorist activity in the process. There must be another way." 


"You are a very stubborn and foolish man, but perhaps I can instill a little 
more flexibility in your 
character, Captain." Augusta strode over to a covered viewport, pressed a 
button, so that the cover 
slid open, revealing a view of the Enterprise. Her hand flashed through the air 
in a slashing motion, and 
to Picard's horror and disbelief, one of the warp nacelles simply sheared off 
the ship and drifted away 
into space. 


* * * 


Q, during this dialog between Picard and Augusta, was rapidly concluding he had 
heard enough. He 
returned his attention to his own situation, assessing the mental energy of his 
three guards who were 
entirely focused on keeping him restrained. He noticed that their energy was 
mostly concentrated on 
the restraints around his wrists and ankles; the restraints were strengthened by 
the telekinetic powers 
of the guards, which were impressive to say the least. But he was a Q, damn it! 
He allowed all the fury 
that had been building up at his kidnapping to wash over him. With an explosion 
of mental energy, he 
burst his restraints. The guards tried to reassert control over him, but Q had 
achieved the optimum 
level of determination. His arm whipped through the air, and he rapidly 
enveloped each guard within a 
small version of his trademark grid-like forcefield, then teleported himself 
onto the outside of 
Augusta's ship. Moments after the warp nacelle sheared off the Enterprise, Q 
replaced it. 


* * * 


"What the hell is that?" exclaimed Riker as the red alert siren began to peal 
and an object drifted by on 
the viewscreen. 


"It is the starboard warp nacelle," remarked Data calmly. 


"WHAT?!" 


"Someone on the other ship seems to have used telekinetic abilities to shear off 
the warp nacelle. As 
warp engines are already down, there is no immediate danger." 


"Commander, look!" exclaimed Worf. 


As if in reverse motion, the warp nacelle returned the way it came, apparently 
reattaching itself to its 
support pylon. Moments later, with their characteristic thrum, the engines 
started up, with all power 
restored to the ship. "Shields up now!" declared Riker. 


* * * 


Augusta did not handle frustration well, and the sight of the warp nacelle 
reattaching itself enraged her 
even further. "All right, Captain, I've had enough. You may think having Q on 
your side assures the 
safety of your ship, but I can give him and you a run for your money." Augusta 
fixed on the Enterprise 
with an intense stare. Then she spoke into her communicator, "Elinor! Fire 
missiles now!" 


* * * 


"Shields are down!" exclaimed Worf. 


"Geordi, we need those shields!" barked Riker. 


"I'm sorry, Commander," replied La Forge's voice over Riker's comm badge, 
"controls are completely 
frozen the way they were bef . . ." 


La Forge was cut off, by Worf's exclamation, "Incoming fire sir!" 


In horror all watched the viewscreen, as a spread of missiles headed toward the 
ship. Then, suddenly 
and inexplicably, the entire spread of missiles veered off in a completely 
different direction. 


When enough air had flowed back into his lungs to allow him to speak, Riker 
gasped, "Increase 
magnification, Mr. Data." 


As the bridge crew watched, the missiles exploded harmlessly a considerable 
distance from the ship. 
Riker collapsed back into the Captain's chair, just in time to feel the 
Enterprise lurch into motion and 
start careening dizzily through space, a motion he and the others had come to 
recognize as the work of 
Q. 


* * * 


After diverting the attack on the Enterprise and sending it safely out of the 
range of Augusta's ship, Q 
materialized in the room where Augusta and Picard were, in shared amazement, 
watching recent 
events. As soon as he appeared, Augusta fixed Q with a glance, trying to 
immobilize him. 


"Two can play at this game, my dear," said Q casually, "and I'm still better at 
it than you." He snapped 
his fingers, and Augusta stood, frozen, her arms apparently pinned at her sides, 
her feet unable to 
move. Q kept one hand pointed toward Augusta, but closed his eyes. Picard could 
hear the ship's engines 
whine to a halt. Q remained with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he 
announced, "I'm afraid your 
engines are off-line--in fact, they seem to have dematerialized altogether--and 
your weapons systems 
are thoroughly disabled. It's one of the perils of space flight. Otherwise 
reliable technology just goes," 
he paused, "*kaput* now and then. Isn't that right, Captain?" he asked, turning 
to Picard. 


"Indeed," said Picard grinning, "in my experience ships' systems sometimes just 
shut down 
inexplicably. Damned annoying when it happens." 


"Captain," responded Augusta grimly, "I wouldn't invest too much trust in him. 
He might betray you 
too, some day." 


"I'll have to take my chances," snapped Picard. 


"Now," said Q, "are you willing to consider the possibility of Federation 
mediation? I can completely 
cripple you technologically, and I'll do it if I have to. You may be able to 
repair anything on this ship 
with your powers, but I know you can't create the parts you need out of thin 
air. I told you these people 
were not going to be hurt, and I meant it." Q released Augusta, confident she 
would not pose a further 
threat. 


Picard frowned. "I'm not sure if my offer of mediation still stands. She tried 
to destroy my ship." 


Inside his head, Picard heard Q. //Actually, I suspect that was partially a 
bluff. She knew I had 
replaced the nacelle and had the capacity to protect the ship from a missile 
attack. If she was really 
serious about destroying your ship, she would have used her powers. Jean-Luc, it 
may be that she 
doesn't deserve another chance, but people do desperate and reckless things in 
the pursuit of otherwise 
just causes. Need I remind you again that you almost obliterated an entire 
Cardassian fleet? You were 
insane at the time, but what Augusta and her people have suffered would be 
enough to drive anyone 
insane, particularly once they acquired the power to get back at their 
oppressors. And you're the one 
who cares about the value of individual lives. A whole lot are going to be lost 
if you simply leave these 
people to their own devices.// 


//Quite right, Q. I never expected you to be the voice of reason and 
moderation.// 


//Sometimes I surprise myself//, replied Q. 


Picard turned to Augusta. "I'm willing to offer you Federation mediation of your 
dispute with the 
government of Angria. There has to be a satisfactory solution that will allow 
your people to return. In 
return, however, I demand a pledge that you will not interfere with Federation 
vessels. You have 
tremendous powers, but you must learn to use them wisely, or you may find 
yourself committing 
actions that you will come to regret." 


Augusta considered briefly, then replied, "Captain, I apologize for my 
recklessness and callousness. 
We've been waiting so long, that when the opportunity came for action, I let my 
impulses override all 
other considerations. You may not believe this, but I am a just and equitable 
leader of my people, and I 
am acting in their interest. Your mediators will be hard pressed, however, to 
convince my cousin's 
government to share power with us. They have always acted on self-interest 
alone, with very little 
concern for the welfare of their people. They have utterly controlled what 
information is released 
about conditions on Angria, but there is unnecessary hunger and homelessness, 
while the Sovereign and 
his Council and their families live in luxury. If your mediators can convince 
them to sacrifice their own 
power, comfort, and prestige to share power with us and to improve living 
conditions for all the 
inhabitants of Angria, then they will be miracle-workers indeed." 


Picard nodded. He could communicate more with a simple nod than any other human 
being Q had 
observed. He could tell that Augusta was reading the understanding, 
thoughtfulness, and sympathy 
Picard was projecting. Picard then spoke, "Well, we'll try our best." 


"You have my word, Captain, that we will not interfere with any vessels that 
come into our space 
unless they pose us a direct threat." 


"Very well," said Picard. "I will arrange for a team of Federation mediators to 
arrive as soon as 
possible, and I will communicate to the government of Angria that due to the 
false information they 
have provided us, their petition for admission will be put on hold." 


Q asked, "Would you like me to restore your ship to working order, sweetheart?" 


Augusta nodded. Within moments, the engines had been replaced and powered up, 
and all systems were 
restored. She looked at Q, then spoke in a low tone, "Come here." Surprised, the 
entity complied. 
Augusta continued, "You are absolutely the most aggravating individual I have 
ever encountered and 
probably ever will encounter, but you do have a few good qualities." She reached 
over, grasping a 
handful of Q's hair and pulling his head toward hers for a long kiss. "Don't 
take it personally," she then 
murmured, "but I really hope I don't see you back here for a good long time. 
You're cute, but you're a 
royal pain in the ass." 


Q smiled graciously and bowed, saying modestly, "I try to make the most of my 
endowments. Good-
bye, Augusta." 


She then turned to Picard, who was trying to figure out the peculiar sensation 
that had wrenched him 
when Augusta kissed Q. It hadn't occurred to him that it could be jealousy, but 
he was soon too 
distracted. Augusta went up to him, tracing one finger along the side of his 
face. She said, "You, 
Captain, on the other hand, are welcome any time. I'll try to provide you with 
better hospitality." 


Picard merely nodded, then said, "Getting acquainted with you has certainly been 
an experience, 
Augusta of Gondal, but it's not an experience I'm in any hurry to repeat. I wish 
you a satisfactory and 
successful resolution and a speedy return to your home." With that Q snapped his 
fingers, returning 
himself and Picard to the Enterprise. 


As they materialized in Picard's ready room, Q was already convulsed in 
laughter. "Red alert, mon 
Capitaine. She almost had you there. It's a good thing your Dr. C. wasn't there 
to witness your 
physiological reactions." Q clucked reproachfully, shaking his head. "You're an 
animal, Picard." 


Picard turned around, gazing steadily at his companion. "Speaking of red alerts, 
my *omnipotent* 
friend, what happened to you? And you call yourself all-powerful?" 


"I'm utterly embarrassed," admitted Q, spreading open his hands in an apologetic 
gesture. 


"So you should be. You're not much good to us as a protector if you're going to 
let yourself be kidnapped 
by various and sundry ex-girlfriends around the galaxy." 


"Touche," replied Q, clutching his chest as if he had just received a thrust to 
the heart. "My ego has 
taken a severe blow. I'm just going to have to make overwhelming displays of my 
power until I feel my 
old self again. Are you sure you don't want me to deposit you naked in Augusta's 
bedroom?" 


"Quite sure. Now about these displays of your powers . . . " 


"They won't be disruptive, Captain, I assure you," said Q in a mock-serious 
voice, "but keep your eyes 
open. I love the element of surprise." 


"Well, you'll have to surprise me later. I have some work to do." 


"Carry on." Q vanished only to reapppear in Ten-Forward. He wanted to drown his 
embarrassment in a 
drink, perhaps lament to Guinan about the foibles of ex-girlfriends and bald 
starship Captains. The 
lamenting was not to be. Almost as soon as Q sat down, Riker came into Ten-
Forward in search of him. 


"Well, well, well, my mortal enemy, the redoubtable Commander Riker. What brings 
you here?" 


"May I?" asked Riker, trying to ignore his rising blood pressure. 


Q gestured grandly to a seat. "What can I do for you, Commander?" 


Riker cleared his throat, rubbed his beard, took a breath, then said, "I've come 
to apologize. You saved 
our lives. I don't know why I haven't been able to bring myself to trust you, 
but it's finally sunk in that 
you're on our side. I don't know why . . ." 


"Nor do you want to, but my ulterior motives are quite harmless. Pray continue." 


"Well, Q, I'm sorry. And apologizing is not one of my favorite activities." 


"Then we have something in common, Commander. Listen, I've been as guilty of 
giving you a hard time 
as you have of mistrusting me against all evidence to the contrary. When you 
wouldn't join the 
Continuum--and it was good decision on your part; it's a stultifyingly dull 
place--I was embarrassed 
before my superiors just as you were embarrassed in front of Picard and the 
crew. It's understandable 
that you and I would not be too fond of each other." 


Riker nodded. "I don't expect I'm ever going to lead your cheering section, Q, 
but I'm willing to put all 
that behind us and try to get to know you better. Just to learn a fraction of 
what makes you tick should 
prove very interesting." 


"It's a deal." Q reached out his hand to shake Riker's. When Riker winced from 
Q's grip, the entity 
remarked, "Didn't want you to think I was getting soft." 


"No need to worry about that. Although your ex-girlfriend took you for a bit of 
ride, didn't she?" 


"Yes, and I came in here to forget about that. I may be omnipotent, but I'm not 
perfect." 


"That's for sure," came a voice from behind him. Guinan had glided up, bringing 
drinks. She turned to 
Riker, "Did you know he once blew up an entire solar system by accident? 
Fortunately it was 
uninhabited. I believe he was experimenting with thermonuclear reactions in the 
sun's core. It was an 
impressive explosion." 


"Oops!" laughed Riker. 


"Yes, very funny," muttered Q. "You know what the problem with your people is, 
Guinan? You live too 
long and remember too much. And you personally always seem to be around when I 
screw up--why is 
that?" 


"Somebody's got to keep an eye on you." Guinan smiled and returned to the bar, 
leaving Q and Riker to 
their drinks. 


* * * 


Soon thereafter, Picard had another diplomatic triumph to his credit. Both sides 
in the Angrian dispute 
agreed to Federation mediation, which the Sovereign realized was preferable to 
having Augusta and her 
followers take over the government by force. Governing was getting tiresome to 
him anyway--all 
those annoying protestors always demanding one thing or another. If his damned 
witch of a cousin 
thought she could do a better job, then he was happy to let her try. He 
negotiatied a safe and 
comfortable retirement for himself and his ministers on Risa. Augusta's arrival 
was greeted with 
acclaim by the majority of the population, who had little fondness for the 
outgoing government. Augusta 
set to work immediately at rectifying the economic inequities on Angria, 
insisting that eliminating 
hunger and homelessness had to be her government's first priority. Pleased with 
the fairness of the 
Federation mediators, Augusta resubmitted her planet's application for 
admission, which was soon 
accepted. 
  


Chapter 11 


After the successful conclusion of the negotiations over Angria, Picard was 
relieved as he said good-
bye to the mediators and negotiators in the transporter room. Before stepping 
onto the transporter pad, 
Augusta went up to Picard. "Captain, I want to thank you. You've been 
extraordinarily fair to someone 
who almost blew up your ship." 


"Well, I'll thank you not to try it again. I won't be so generous the second 
time," said Picard drily, 
trying to cover up for the unease that Augusta's presence stirred in him. 


She leaned toward Picard, winking at Q over the Captain's shoulder, then 
bestowed upon Picard a long 
farewell kiss. Then she turned around, stepped briskly onto the transporter pad, 
and remarked, "A 
parting gift." 


"Thank-you," murmured Picard, "you're too kind." As the transporter beam began 
to shimmer, Picard 
hastily strode out of the transporter room, thoroughly embarrassed, followed by 
by Q, who didn't know 
whether to be jealous or amused. As they walked down the corridor, Picard 
snapped, "Just don't say 
anything, OK? You and I both know what I'm feeling, so keep your witty 
observations to yourself." 


Q mimed zipping his mouth shut, but his laughing eyes provided sufficient 
further embarrassment to the 
Captain. "Well, you acquitted yourself admirably, Picard. You're a fine 
diplomat." 


"And a tired one. Look Q, I've been neglecting Beverly shamefully . . . " 


"Hmm, I can't imagine why." 


Picard raised his eyebrows and sighed. "And I owe her a drink." 


"Don't let *me* stand in your way. I'm sure she'll want to hear all about your 
touching farewell with 
Augusta." 


"Q!" exclaimed Picard in exasperation, but the entity had already disappeared, 
leaving behind a 
disembodied mocking laugh. 


The doctor did accept Picard's offer of a drink, but there was a marked coolness 
in her manner. "And 
did you see Augusta safely off?" she asked. 


"Yes, of course, diplomatic protocol and all that." 


"Uh-huh. I see." 


"Beverly," said Picard with some irritation, "I don't need this. Yes, she was 
stunningly attractive. 
Yes, I found myself responding to her as did every other male on this ship. Not 
to mention some of the 
women. So what? I'm human, and I have impulses like anyone else, yourself 
included. It's not as though 
you're immune to the charms of attractive males. Don't think I didn't notice you 
and Deanna eyeing 
Augusta's brother." 


Beverly laughed, "You've got a point there. He *was* something. OK, Jean-Luc, 
let's forget our recent 
visitors, OK?" 


"I'd be delighted to. I've missed you, actually." He reached over and took 
Beverly's hand, rubbing the 
back of it with his thumb. 


"I've missed you too." 


They remained for a while in an awkward silence. Continuing to hold hands, they 
conversed for a while 
about more mundane matters, then Beverly paused. "Jean-Luc, you look exhausted. 
You need some 
sleep. Doctor's orders." 


He smiled, "Yes, sir. You certainly like invoking your medical authority over 
me, don't you?" 


"As a matter of fact, I do. And you're so stubborn the only way I can get you to 
listen to medical advice 
is by ordering you. So, get to bed, Captain." 


Picard bowed. "I hear and obey, only I would like to defer my fulfillment of 
your orders long enough to 
walk you to your quarters." 


"Permission granted." 


They lingered for a moment outside Beverly's door, then she quickly stroked 
Picard's cheek, gave him a 
quick kiss, then went inside. He sighed, completely unsure of where this 
relationship was going, and 
headed back to his quarters. 


* * * 


//Devastated by grief, the entity wandered aimlessly from solar system to solar 
system, trying to 
lose himself in continuous motion. He tried to divert himself by viewing the 
most spectacular wonders 
the galaxy had to offer, stars going supernova, solar systems forming, violent 
celestial collisions, 
stellar flares, the works. Nothing held the remotest appeal for him, and he 
could only think about the 
person who would have appreciated these sights with him had that person still 
been alive. He tried 
resuming his old habit of tormenting weaker species, but that exercise too had 
lost its charms. Not only 
did sadistic pursuits not bring him any joy, they did not even begin to 
stimulate him. He tried switching 
tactics and doing good deeds, rescuing threatened planets from plunging meteors, 
preventing landquakes 
and subduing volcanoes, stopping wars between humanoid species, but these 
activities did not alleviate 
the numbing stupor that had settled upon him either.// 


//Finally, in a paroxysm of despair, he cast himself upon a ledge near a 
mountain top on a planet in an 
isolated part of the galaxy. He lay there for days, weeks, months, years, 
decades, centuries, 
overcome by an irresistable inertia, aware only of "A grief without a pang, 
void, dark, and drear, / A 
stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief" as some 19th-century earth poet had put 
it. He was too apathetic 
to recall the name. Occasionally, however, he was buffeted by a wave of memory 
and emotion, and a 
tear or two would make its way down his cheek, but inevitably numb despair would 
set in again. Every 
few decades he would sense a voice reaching out to him from one of his own kind, 
but he would ignore 
the call. His own kind held no interest for him.// 


//After centuries had passed, the entity murmured to himself, "I can't go on 
like this," and was on the 
verge of collecting all his energies to make the effort simply to blink himself 
out of existence, when an 
inspiration flashed upon his soul. "I can't believe I've been so linear. I'm a 
Q, damn it!" he exclaimed. He 
leapt to his feet, energy pervading his being, and stepped back neatly in time 
to a past centuries ago. As 
the unsuspecting USS Enterprise NCC-1701 D made its way toward Farpoint Station, 
the entity hurled a 
gridlike, shimmering force field around the ship. Appearing on the bridge, he 
announced in his most 
sepulchral voice, "Thou art notified that thy kind hath infiltrated the galaxy 
too far already. Thou art 
directed to return to thine own solar system immediately." A wave of emotion 
washed over the entity 
as he beheld Captain Jean-Luc Picard for the first time in centuries. He felt an 
almost irrepressible joy 
mingled with an aching, yearning desire. He maintained his stern demeanor, 
however, but inside he was 
tickled to death to behold Picard's staunch defiance in the face of his immense 
power.// 


//Picard calmly replied, "That's quite a directive. Would you mind identifying 
what you are?"// 


* * * 


Picard stood outside Q's quarters, perplexed that Q had not answered the door 
chime. Normally, 
whenever the impulse to speak to Q entered his mind, Q instantly appeared, but 
this time there had been 
no reply to his mental summons, even though the sensation of the connection with 
Q in his mind 
remained. "Computer," demanded Picard, "override door lock." He entered Q's 
quarters, to find the 
entity lying on his bed, eyes open, but his entire body unmoving. Concerned, 
Picard sat down on the 
bed, shaking Q gently, "Q, are you in there?" 


Q stirred, blinked, and sat up suddenly. Much to Picard's surprise, he actually 
looked disoriented for a 
moment. Then the entity shivered slightly and sat hugging himself. "Jean-Luc," 
he spoke slowly, "I'm 
glad to see you. You can't imagine how glad." 


"I tried to call you, but you didn't answer. Were you asleep?" 


"No, not exactly." Q was still speaking in a dreamy, abstracted tone. "It was 
more like a waking dream, 
nightmare in this case. Sometimes, while our current corporeal form remains in 
one time frame or 
universe, we get into a kind of reverie that would be like an elaborate daydream 
for a human--that's 
the closest analogy--but for us it's completely real while we're in it. I may 
have appeared to be in a 
kind of trance, but my mind was living hundreds of years into a possible future. 
It's a kind of 
exploration, really, a way of testing out possible futures for myself. I don't 
know which one will happen 
in this time frame, as it depends partially on factors that are either out of my 
control or that I don't 
think it would be appropriate for me to control, but it's a way of living out 
some of the possibilities. I 
may have been only lying here for an hour or so in your time, but I actually 
lived my own time line, a 
span of centuries. That's why I seem so disoriented. It was quite an 
experience." 


Picard murmured softly, 
"Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 
And even the motion of our human blood 
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 
In body, and become a living soul: 
While with an eye made quiet by the power 
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
We see into the life of things." 


"Wordsworth, right?" said Q. "Met him once. What an ego! But he did have a 
facility for expressing 
certain states of mind that, as a Q, I found remarkably familiar." 


"Met Wordsworth?" said Picard, but his mind wasn't on that subject. He 
continued, "I had an experience 
like that once. An alien probe, which had been devised by a people who did not 
want their history to be 
consigned to oblivion, took over my mind, and I lived half a lifetime--wife, 
children, grandchildren. It 
seemed entirely real. I still feel like those people are a part of my life." 


"Well, they are. They're in your mind, and they exist there. Don't you see, 
Picard? An experience like 
that should show you how limited your human concept of 'reality' is. I've lived 
a number of different 
futures, and they're all equally 'real.' I can live out this time frame, but I 
can switch to another one, or 
repeat portions of my 'past' and in the process, shape a different future. The 
possibilities are endless." 
Q paused, rubbing his face with both hands, then shaking his head. "This one was 
a doozy, however. I 
only wish you'd interrupted it a few centuries ago. I think I could use one of 
Guinan's specialty drinks." 


As Picard and Q walked to Ten-Forward, Picard asked, "So was Wordsworth really 
as self-enamored 
as his poetry would seem to indicate?" 


"Oh, you don't know the half of it," laughed Q. "That's why I find him so 
appealing. He would have 
understood us: 'Our destiny, our being's heart and home . . .'" 


"Is with infinitude, and only there," concluded Picard. 


"Jean-Luc!" exclaimed Q, "Why, you closet Romantic, you! What would your crew 
think?" 


Picard smiled, "We'll just keep that our secret, shall we, Q? Let's just get 
that drink, OK?" 


Rounding a corner on the way to Ten-Forward, they collided with a small caravan 
of ghouls, witches, 
ghosts, and the like. Startled, Q jumped backward a yard. "What the hell is 
that?" he exclaimed as a 
chorus of giggles erupted from the small troupe. 


"It's Halloween, Q," said Picard patiently. 


"I knew that!" 


Alexander, the leader of the group of children, apologized to Picard for running 
into them. "Very well 
then, carry on," said Picard, and the children continued their progress. 


"Since when do you let these creatures have the run of your ship?" 


"I don't usually. But Counselor Troi convinced me it would be salutory for them 
to observe some of the 
favorite childhood holidays, Halloween among them. Many cultures have a similar 
type of observance, 
actually. So on certain occasions, I do permit the children the run of the ship, 
except the bridge of 
course." 


"I honestly don't see what you humans see in those undeveloped specimens of your 
species." 


"Well, I don't have much use for children, myself," admitted Picard. 


"So you're not an entirely lost cause," interjected Q. 


"But I have found some of the children to be quite remarkable on occasion. You 
should spend some time 
with them." 


"No thank you," said Q, shuddering. "I have to degrade myself enough to lower 
myself to the level of 
*your* puny intellect, Picard. You can hardly expect me to consort with even 
more deficient beings." 


"Yes, of course, I forgot your tremendously gracious condescension in coming 
down to my paltry 
level," said Picard, but he was smiling, quite used to Q's tactless methods of 
teasing. "How foolish of 
me." 


"See what I mean?" said Q with a wink as they entered Ten-Forward. After they 
sat down at a table 
near the window and got drinks, Q said suddenly, "Jean-Luc, you've been working 
hard and deserve a 
break. Let's do something fun." 


"What did you have in mind?" asked Picard warily. 


"A vacation. I can give you an experience you'll never forget, and you'll only 
be away from the ship for 
an hour. And should some crisis erupt, as it seems to do on this ship with 
frightening regularity, I can 
get you back here in an instant." 


"What do you propose?" said Picard, interested in spite of himself. 


"Oh, I don't know. How'd you like to meet Shakespeare?" 


"*Shakespeare??!!*" exclaimed Picard, aghast at Q's casualness. 


"Yeah, Shakespeare. You know, British guy, wrote some plays. Sonnets too!" said 
Q brightly, "'Shall I 
compare thee to a summer's day?' 'My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun,' 
'Let me not to the 
marriage of true minds . . .'" 


"Enough!" snapped Picard. He repeated, "*Shakespeare?*" 


"Shakespeare." replied Q. "He really did write his own plays, you know. I can't 
*believe* people are 
*still* arguing about that." 


"Meet . . . *Shakespeare*?" 


"Is there an echo in here? Why not, Picard? He's a nice guy, knows how to relax 
and have a good time, 
which is more than I can say for you, Johnny." Q had gotten into the habit, 
whenever he wanted to 
provoke Picard, of needling him with his academy nickname. "Johnny" had been 
quite a bit more 
impetuous than his current incarnation. "How about it, Jean-Luc? We could see 
"Hamlet" or maybe "The 
Tempest"--with drinks with the cast afterward--that is it you think you can hold 
your ale. It'll be the 
real stuff, not synthehol." 


"I can hold my god damned ale," snapped Picard. "You know how hesitant I am 
about altering time lines . 
. . " 


"Oh, *that* again! I promise you, we won't change anything. I won't brainwash 
the Bard into any 
untoward revisions of the plays or sonnets, if that's what you're worried 
about." 


Picard was clearly wavering. "It's against my better judgment, but . . . 
Shakespeare!" 


Q shook his head in amusement. "Haven't you realized by now, Picard, that I'm 
your dark double? I'm 
the one who gets you to do things against your better judgment. And you need me. 
You're too damned 
repressed and duty-bound. You need me to talk you into occasional eruptions of 
undisciplined self-
indulgence. You know what happens when you repress your impulses all the time? 
They simply emerge 
in a much more devastating manner--as we nearly witnessed at the Cardassian 
border a while back. 
Even the great Jean-Luc Picard needs to let his hair down--so to speak--once in 
a while. Admit it, 
*Johnny*, you really enjoyed reliving that fight with those Nausicaans. When 
that Nausicaan called you 
a coward for a second time, and you replied, 'I thought that's what you said,' 
did you hear the 
satisfaction in your own voice? Where would you be if I hadn't given you that 
opportunity? The Jean-
Luc Picard who follows his impulses and who could find the humor in being 
stabbed through the heart is 
in there somewhere, but you've become so completely self-disciplined that you 
need *me* to bring him 
out. You may have 'great responsibilities,'" said Q in a mocking imitation of 
Picard's accent and 
inflection, "but you're entitled to have some fun once in a while. That's what 
you thought you were 
getting with Vash, but I'm much better for you. How about it?" 


Picard looked up quickly at this comparison, which made no sense to him. But 
then Q often said 
enigmatic things he couldn't make any sense of. He replied, "You know, Q, you're 
absolutely certain you 
always know what's best for me . . ." 


"That's because I do. Did *I* encourage you to accept the powers of the Q? You 
know I don't mean you 
any harm, and you ought to know by now that I will respect your compulsive and 
mindless attachment 
to the flow of history. Come on, I know you're dying to go. This won't be the 
holodeck; this will be the 
real thing, at least as far as *you* understand reality." 


"You can still keep an eye on the ship?" 


"Do I have to define the word 'omniscient,' Picard?" 


"All right. I'd love to go. And I'd like to see "The Tempest"; it's always been 
one of my favorites." 


Picard tapped his communicator. "Picard to Riker. I'm going to avail myself of 
Q's offer of a brief 
vacation. You have the bridge, but Q will have me back here immediately if 
anything comes up . . . " 


"I'll have your Captain back in an hour," interrupted Q. 


"Okay, Captain," came Riker's response. "Have a good time--you've earned it!" 


* * * 


Picard and Q materialized on a deserted road on the way to London, in the year 
1612. Picard noticed 
that he had acquired Elizabethan garb somewhere along the way. "Oh, mon 
Capitaine," exclaimed Q with 
an impassioned gasp, "I'd forgotten how much I enjoy seeing you in tights. Did 
it ever occur to you that 
that might have been the point of the Robin Hood thing?" 


"What are you going on about, Q?" muttered Picard, as he looked around, trying 
to take in the fact that 
he was actually in Renaissance England. 


"Oh, never mind." 


As they approached the city, Q waved his hand in front of his face. "At least 
your species has improved 
its methods of sanitation; of course, it wouldn't take much to improve on this." 


"It *is* rather pungent," acknowledged Picard. "But it's always difficult to 
imagine how people could 
bear living in more primitive conditions than those they're accustomed to." 


"You're telling me!" declared Q. "But you have to admit I've adapted quite 
nicely to your primitive little 
lifestyle." 


"With the exception that you continously see fit to remind me how primitive it 
is to you," snapped 
Picard. Then, after a pause, he mused, "I don't believe this. I am walking into 
17th century London, and 
I'm wasting my time arguing with you. How do you do this to me?" 


"Well, that's what makes me special," smiled Q, "but you have to admit you have 
a unique talent for 
setting yourself up. I couldn't ask for more in a straight man." 


Picard sighed, and they continued on their way. Picard was in a continuous state 
of amazement as he 
took in the buildings, the carriages, the clothes. Turning a corner, he found 
himself looking at the Globe 
theater. "It's the Globe!" he gasped. 


"Of course, it's the Globe," said Q with a sigh of exasperation. 


Picard delivered a backhand slap to Q's arm, and repeated "It's the *Globe*!" 


"You know, Picard, time travel does not do wonders for your intellectual 
acuity." 


Picard absently slapped Q's arm again and exclaimed, "Do you have even the 
faintest beginnings of an 
idea of what this means to me?" 


"Of course, that's why I brought you here." 


Suddenly, two men rushed out of the theater entrance. Spotting Picard, one of 
them exclaimed, "Where 
have you been, laggard? It is past time to dress!" As the men began hurrying 
Picard into the theater, he 
whirled around to look at Q, who simply winked back. 


A voice exploded inside Q's head, //Q! Damn it! What do you think you're doing? 
Q!// 


Q responded mentally, in a casual tone, //Oh, did I forget to tell you? Silly 
me. You're playing 
Prospero. Don't worry about your lines and cues--they're all in your 
head. And they all think you're the regular guy, so you don't need to worry 
about changing history or 
anything. He'll wake up tomorrow completely convinced he 
actually played his part.// 


//*Q!!!!*// 


//Come off it, Jean-Luc. You can't tell me that you've never dreamed of doing 
this. You only live once-
-carpe diem, that's what I say. Oh, and Jean-Luc?// 


//Yes?// came the sighed response. 


//Break a leg!// 


Picard turned in a stirring performance as Prospero. Q was true to his word; the 
lines flowed easily 
from his brain when needed, and he delivered them with utter conviction. As the 
epilogue concluded 
with Prospero's request for applause, "As you from crimes would pardon'd be / 
Let your indulgence set 
me free," Shakespeare's company, the King's Men, received a standing ovation, 
led by Q with shouts of 
"Bravo!" After drinks in a local tavern, during the course of which Picard was 
thrilled to converse 
with the Bard himself, Q and Picard were walking down a deserted street. Picard 
turned to Q, saying "I 
ought to . . ." 


"What you ought to do," snapped Q, "is get down on your knees right here and 
thank me for giving you 
the experience of a lifetime." 


"Well, I won't get on my knees, because God knows what's down there, but I do 
thank you, with every 
iota of gratitude I can muster," said Picard quietly. "I owe you so much, and I 
don't know how I know 
this, but I have an intuition that some day I will be able to do something for 
you." 


"You already have, Jean-Luc. So, do you want to stick around or head back?" 


"I'd like to see the theater again." 


"No sooner said than done," declared Q, and Picard found himself back on the 
stage of the Globe. 


He asked, almost breathlessly, "Is this real? Was that real before? I mean, the 
play." 


"Haven't you figured out what a pointless question that is to ask me? Yes, it 
was real. You played 
Prospero. This is the year 1612; next year, this theater is going to burn down 
and be rebuilt. Here, 
maybe this will convince you, so you won't keep asking me foolish questions when 
we get back." An 
actor's script materialized in Picard's hand. "You don't need to worry," 
continued Q, "about affecting 
Shakespearean scholarship. This particular copy was discarded, so no one will 
miss it." 


Picard was speechless. He clutched the script in one hand and walked around the 
stage, tentatively 
touching the curtains and doors. Almost whispering, he said, "Q, I don't know 
what to say. Do you 
understand how grateful I am, how much this means to me?" 


"Of course I do. I can read your mind, remember? I don't believe I've ever seen 
you have so much fun 
as when you were up there performing. You're such a ham, Jean-Luc. But you know, 
you were really 
good. When you gave the speech, 'Our revels now are ended,' it gave me chills." 


"Thanks. But why didn't you take a part, my friend? It's not like you to stay in 
the background." 


"True enough. But this was *your* moment, and I couldn't think of anything I'd 
rather be doing than 
watching *you*. Ready to go back?" 


Picard touched one of the curtains again, rubbing the fabric lightly between his 
thumb and fingers, then 
nodded. In a flash he found himself alone in his quarters, holding the script. Q 
knew him well enough to 
understand that after an experience such as that, Picard would want some time 
alone to absorb it. Q 
joined him again later, however, and as they were walking down a corridor, with 
Picard adjusting his 
uniform and trying to get himself back into Captain mode, they ran into Riker. 


"How was your vacation, Captain?" 


"Excellent," replied Picard, while smiling at Q, "Let's just say it was a most . 
. . ah . . . dramatic 
experience." 


* * * 


The next morning, breakfasting with Beverly, Picard was still musing on the 
extraordinary experience 
he had had. He had experienced time travel before, and he had been thrown into 
Q's scenarios often 
enough to adjust quickly when his fellow actors dragged him off to the dressing 
room, but the fact that 
he had actually been performing under Shakespeare's direction was mind-boggling. 
He related the 
experience to Beverly in an awed tone and showed her the script he had brought 
back. "I don't 
understand it," Picard mused. "I don't know why Q goes out of his way to do 
these things for me." 


Beverly simply shook her head and laughed, "Well, Q certainly is right about one 
thing. You really are 
obtuse." 


"I don't suppose you're going to explain to me what you mean by that," remarked 
Picard in an irritated 
tone. 


"Not in a million years," laughed Beverly getting up. 


Picard quickly grasped her wrist, exclaiming "Beverly!" but she freed herself 
with a quick twist of the 
arm, saying, "When it comes to Q, you're on your own, Jean-Luc." 



Chapter 12


Over the next few days, Picard and Q spent very little time together. It was as 
if, after drawing closer 
for a time, they had an unspoken agreement to back off for a while. Picard was 
occupied with the 
Enterprise's current mission--to transport a group of scientists to study a 
newly forming solar 
system. The scientists were from a variety of Federation member planets, and 
accomodating their 
varying demands for equipment, special food, and other perquisites was keeping 
Picard and his crew 
busy. Almost every night there was a gathering in Ten-Forward to go over the 
most recent data, and 
Picard felt obliged to join his guests, but after a few days, he decided they 
could entertain each other 
perfectly well without his presence, and he deputized Riker and La Forge, both 
convivial types, to play 
host. And Data, of course, was always willing to share knowledge with 
colleagues. 


On his first free evening, Picard was in his quarters, dressing for a date with 
Beverly. He had been 
neglecting her somewhat of late, even before this current mission; he wasn't 
sure if it was that Q was 
monopolizing his free time or if it was that he was encouraging Q to monopolize 
his free time, but either 
way, he had not been spending enough time with Beverly, whatever their 
relationship was. As he was 
finishing getting ready, a voice echoed inside his head, //Do you have a minute, 
Jean-Luc?// Picard 
answered in the affirmative, again puzzling over the peculiar sensation he 
received from conversing 
with Q in this utterly private, almost intimate fashion. Picard was growing more 
and more aware of his 
telepathic connection with Q. He somehow knew instantly if Q had left or 
returned to the ship, and he 
somehow always knew where to locate Q on the ship, although he of course had no 
way of reading even 
the outermost layer of Q's mind. He was also beginning to be aware when Q was 
reading his, unless Q 
was particularly unobtrusive about it. In a blaze of light that seemed brighter 
than usual, Q appeared. 
He was restless, beginning to pace the second he appeared in the room, his 
entire being crackling with 
nervous energy. 


"Jean-Luc," he spoke rapidly as he paced, "I don't know if you've noticed, but . 
. . I don't know the best 
way to put it, but things are getting a little too comfortable for me here. You 
know, I'm not used to 
staying in one place very long, or even of thinking of any particular place as 
'home,' and it's starting to 
get to me. It has nothing to do with you, of course; the time I spend with you 
is precious to me, but 
aside from you, I'm starting to feel a little claustrophobic." He paused for a 
moment, having noticed 
Picard's clothes for the first time. "Date?" 


Picard nodded. "With the lovely Dr. C?" Picard nodded again. "Well, this won't 
do at all," snapped Q 
impatiently, "much too formal. Too pompous. You look like somebody's best man." 
At this, he snapped 
his fingers, thereby making the offending garments disappear to be replaced with 
a much more striking 
outfit with bolder colors, a wide sash, and an open collar. Q reached out with 
both hands, adjusted the 
shoulders, then took a step back with his head slightly tilted, admiring his 
handiwork with pursed lips. 
"Much better." 


Picard turned to look in the mirror, equally pleased with the result; at the 
same time he was trying to 
cover for that inexplicable tingle of electricity that he felt whenever Q 
touched him. He suspected it 
was a vestige of an instinctive fear of Q's overwhelming power, and he certainly 
did not want to let it 
show. Otherwise, he was quite used to Q's autocratic ways by now, and saw no 
need to comment any 
further than to say, "Thank you. Your fashion sense is impeccable." 


"Naturally," replied the entity. "Now, as I was saying, I think I need some time 
to myself to travel for 
a while, do a little exploring, stretch my muscles a bit." He went back to 
pacing. "Part of it is that 
while I've been enjoying being on good terms with the crew, and I'm learning all 
sorts of fascinating 
things about human nature, I feel like I'm starting to be taken for granted. 
Deanna and Geordi actually 
invited *me* to their poker game! Poker? Moi? I'm a Q, for God's sake. I 
couldn't stop myself from 
reading all the cards and giving myself perfect hands even if I wanted to; it 
would be like an involuntary 
reflex. If people are starting to invite *me* to poker games, then something's 
terribly, terribly 
wrong." 


Picard laughed, shaking his head in bemusement. He walked over to the sofa, 
saying, "Come here and sit 
down. You're making me nervous." 


Q obeyed with a heavy sigh. "What *is* so amusing, Captain?" 


"You are, mon ami. You're perfectly happy to have everyone on edge just by your 
presence, but you 
just can't stand it that people have come to trust you and feel comfortable 
around you. Yet before you 
encountered us, you were equally bored and restless and wanted to join the crew 
to alleviate your 
boredom." 


"I can't win, can I?" 


"Apparently not. But don't you see what a tremendous transformation has taken 
place? It's not that 
everyone has forgotten what you're capable of; it's that *you've* created that 
level of comfort by 
your behavior. When you're not throwing your weight around, you're very good 
company, and with a 
few exceptions, the crew enjoys having you around. That's not a bad thing, Q." 


Q sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I *know* that; I know that's 
what I came here for. I'm 
both flattered and touched by the way I've been received. But at the same time, 
I'm starting to feel 
suffocated. I'm not used to being the object of all this goodwill and warm 
feeling. I don't even recognize 
myself half the time." 


"Well, if you ask me, there are elements of your personality that I'm just as 
glad aren't manifesting 
themselves. But what you're saying makes sense. You've spent centuries getting 
attention and 
reinforcing your image of yourself through fear and intimidation; it's 
understandable that warming up 
to people and receiving their goodwill in return would be new to you and make 
you uncomfortable. But 
you have to realize that you've risen in our esteem as you've made an effort to 
adapt to us. You think 
you've been somehow diminished because people aren't in awe of your presence, 
but I've got news for 
you, we never were." Q stopped fidgeting and looked directly at Picard, who 
continued. "You certainly 
made us angry, and we certainly became aware of how powerful you are and how 
vulnerable we were 
by contrast--we felt fear on occasions, but never awe. I'm afraid we never 
respected you enough to 
feel awe." 


"You wound me, mon Capitaine." 


Picard smiled gently. "Q, Q, you're a conundrum, you know that? If it's any 
consolation, I feel genuine 
respect for you now because I've seen you curb your natural impulses toward 
causing trouble in a 
genuine effort to be considerate to the rest of us. And I feel genuine respect 
for you now because I've 
seen how judicious you've been in using your power. You rescued the ship during 
our mission to Angria, 
and you've helped out in other ways. You know, you've been doing a lot of good. 
Look, you've even 
improved my wardrobe." 


"Yeah, and let me tell you, it needs help." 


"What will you do with yourself while you're gone?" 


Q replied, "Oh travel, sightsee, the usual. I'm not going to do anything you'd 
disapprove of, so don't 
worry about that. But I do need to hit the road for a while. I'll be back of 
course. And if you need me for 
anything, you can just call me. Don't try to prove how self-sufficient you are 
just because I'm not 
around; it something comes up, I want to be here." 


"I understand," said Picard. 


Q was beginning to get irritated at Picard's calm and soothing demeanor. With an 
almost violent spasm, 
he mentally burst into Picard's mind, absorbing all of it instantaneously. Then 
what Picard said utterly 
startled him. "You don't have to do that to know I'm going to miss you," said 
the Captain evenly, "I was 
going to tell you. And I was going to ask if we could talk sometimes while 
you're gone." 


"Of course we can. I'm sorry, Jean-Luc; I can't believe I didn't realize you're 
starting to be able to 
sense my presence in your mind as well as the extent of it." He smiled 
affectionately, "Well, it looks 
like I can no longer be a cad undetected. I'm impressed, Jean-Luc--maybe you're 
not as hopeless as I 
thought. And I'm going to miss you too, but there's something else I need to 
tell you. Your officers 
normally aren't dumb enough to invite an omniscient entity to a poker game. 
They're dumb, but not 
*that* dumb." 


"What are you getting at?" 


Q sighed. "Let me see if I can explain this. Have you noticed a certain laxness 
among the crew since I 
came on board?" 


"Yes, for instance, the deflector failure was very uncharacteristic. Geordi's 
staff doesn't usually make 
that kind of mistake. They wouldn't be here if they did." 


"Exactly. Now, right before I came to offer you the powers, you had a dream 
about me, right?" 


"Yes," murmured Picard. "Actually it was more like a nightmare. No offense." 


"None taken," replied Q with a strained smile, as he got up and resumed pacing. 
"You're not the only one 
who did either. There are certain mental or emotional states among us that have 
effects which 
reverberate beyond ourselves. We sometimes experience a kind of emotional 
conflict that causes so 
much tension that our psychic energy starts to bleed out and have an effect on 
others. It's equivalent to 
a kind of mild telepathic influence except it's totally unintentional when it 
happens. We actually project 
emotions that cause us discomfort onto others; it's an unfortunate defense 
mechanism that our 
telepathic abilities make possible. 


When the Continuum was insisting that I make you the offer, I was so torn 
between my fear of the 
possible consequences and . . . well . . . my fear of the Continuum, it was as 
if I couldn't contain all the 
psychic energy this conflict was provoking. Hence your nightmares. I was 
unintentionally telepathically 
influencing you as a way to release what you would call stress. And I think I'm 
having the opposite 
effect now." Q's pacing grew more frenetic; he started chewing on his thumbnail 
in a display of 
uncharacteristic nervousness. He continued, hesitantly, his eyes firmly fixed on 
the ground as he 
paced, "Although my self-sufficiency is one of the qualities I value most, I 
apparently seem . . . well . . 
. ah . . . to have a . . . this isn't easy for me, Picard . . . a powerful 
desire to be accepted by you and 
your crew. I suspect I've been inadvertently influencing some of your crew," he 
sighed, "in my favor. 
Mind you, I'm not going so far as to brainwash them," he added, a little too 
quickly. Nervously twisting 
his hands together, he explained, "I can't force people to feel something 
opposite to their real feelings 
when I'm not making a conscious effort to, but I can subconsciously enhance a 
tendency already in a 
person's mind, however buried or latent. And this way I've been able to convince 
myself that I'm really 
here because you all can't do without me. I'm sorry, Jean-Luc, I honestly didn't 
realize this was going 
on until now, and it won't happen any more now that I'm aware of it. Don't take 
this personally, but 
your species seems particularly susceptible to our psychic influence," Q 
concluded somewhat 
defensively. 


Picard was actually smiling at this recital. "You're really embarrassed about 
this, aren't you?" 


"About what?" 


"About craving the companionship of us *puny* humans so much that you've been 
subconsciously 
projecting that need onto us. Ironic isn't it, my misanthropic and superior 
friend?" 


"Why don't you stick the knife in a little deeper and twist it a few times, 
Picard?" snapped Q, but at the 
same time he was capricious enough to respect the fact that Picard was taking 
advantage of his 
vulnerability, moving in for the kill when the opportunity presented itself. Q 
himself, of course, would 
have done the same thing and much more cruelly at that. He added, "You're really 
enjoying this, aren't 
you?" 


"As a matter of fact, I am," said Picard bluntly. "You seem to have revealed 
your Achilles' heel." 


"Soft underbelly is more like it," said Q bitterly. He had stopped pacing and 
was standing slumped, his 
arms folded. 


Picard got up and walked up to Q. "Well, I won't tell anybody your little 
secret, but is that such a crime 
in the Continuum, to desire friendship? Is that why you're so embarrassed?" 


"Picard, you couldn't possibly understand my relationship with the rest of the 
Q. It has a history that 
goes back long before your earth's prehistory. Let's drop it, OK? And regardless 
of what I may or may 
not, in weak moments, want, I am *not* going to start joining the gang for a few 
hands of poker!" 


"No, no, of course not. That would be beneath you. You know, I haven't seen you 
like this since you 
were without your powers," said Picard, amused. "What do you want with us, Q? Do 
you have *any* 
idea?" 


"Maybe, maybe not. What the hell do *you* want, Picard? Do *you* know? Do you 
want me to tell you 
how your date is going to go tonight? You'll have a romantic dinner, wine, 
candlelight--very civilized. 
You'll exchange a few chaste kisses, perhaps, but Dr. C will go back to her own 
quarters, and you'll 
each sleep alone, all the while wondering what it would be like to be together. 
You're a fine one to 
needle *me* about being embarrassed about emotions, *ice-man*! But don't let me 
keep you from your 
*date*." 


Picard's face turned white. He was speechless with rage, a rage that was 
exacerbated by the 
knowledge that Q was absolutely right. Q laughed derisively. "*Gotcha*, didn't 
I? You may be able to 
win the occasional battle, Picard. I'll admit I have my soft spots. But you're 
just asking for trouble. I 
can get under your skin so fast it'll make your head spin. Not only do I *know* 
you inside out, but I can 
*turn* you inside out, my repressed friend. Push me as far as you *dare*, 
Picard, but be prepared to 
face the *music*." 


"You're right, Q," admitted Picard with a sigh, who knew better than to pursue a 
losing battle, 
particularly with Q, whose utter ruthlessness combined with his telepathic 
powers gave him an 
unbeatable advantage. "Truce?" He offered his hand to Q who shook it with a 
satisfied smile. 


"Cease-fire, anyway," replied the entity. "Until I return. I can't resist a 
parting shot, however." He 
placed his hands lightly on his victim's shoulders, noting with satisfaction 
Picard's inevitable slight 
tremor at his touch, and said, "You have no idea how much satisfaction it gives 
me to hear you say 
'You're right, Q.' You're so beautiful when you surrender." Q then kissed Picard 
on the forehead. "Au 
revoir, mon Capitaine." 


"Au revoir, Q," murmured Picard as Q disappeared in a more than usually blinding 
flash. Picard actually 
felt the ship lurch slightly, testimony to just how much nervous energy Q needed 
to dissipate. As he lit 
candles and set the table for his date, trying to ignore his embarrassment at 
Q's parting gesture, he 
was more than a little surprised to find himself feeling a little wistful and 
saddened at Q's departure. 
//I really am going to miss the bastard//, he thought to himself. 


When Beverly arrived, she complimented him profusely on his new clothes. "Well, 
Jean-Luc, you look 
absolutely stunning. Who's your tailor?" 


"Q, actually. I have to admit, he's got excellent taste. Have you ever been 
inside his quarters?" 


Picard's casual mention of Q made Beverly feel a brief clutch of fear in her 
heart. She quickly changed 
the subject. They conversed casually over dinner, with Picard entertaining his 
companion by doing 
mercilessly accurate imitations of some of the visiting scientists with their 
interminable demands. He 
was uncharacteristically irreverent, trying to break through the reserve he and 
Beverly were both 
feeling. She laughed heartily, and after a few glasses of wine, they both began 
to feel more at ease. 


Picard couldn't help thinking about their marriage and divorce in the projected 
future Q had taken him to 
when he had been travelling in time to solve the puzzle the Continuum had set 
up. He had actually 
surprised himself by telling his officers about the future he had seen, but his 
concerns about them 
drifting apart seemed more significant than the problem of altering a future 
that was probably not 
predetermined anyway. But telling Beverly they had been married and divorced was 
the hardest; 
neither part of that projected future sounded very appealing to him. It just 
seemed to confirm to him 
that he wasn't cut out for that type of commitment; he would undoubtedly drive 
any spouse to 
distraction. He glanced at Beverly as he sipped his wine; she seemed to be 
thinking about the same 
thing. Although he didn't regret telling her about it, it had put a barrier 
between them. And from 
Beverly's perspective, there was the additional complication of Q's obvious 
romantic interest in Picard 
(obvious to everyone but its object). She could tell that Q was wooing Picard in 
his own fashion, but the 
Captain remained blissfully oblivious to Q's ulterior motives. The question was, 
how would he react 
when it finally sunk in? Q was extremely annoying, but Beverly could imagine 
that it would be 
flattering to be pursued by such a powerful being, regardless of gender or other 
concerns. 


Picard got up suddenly, uncomfortable with the silence that had fallen over both 
of them. "I have a treat 
for you. Dr. Cameron brought them from Earth; he's from Seattle, and he likes to 
show off the 
specialties of that region. Did you like the wine? It was from that area as 
well." 


"It was very good. What's your treat?" 


Picard brought out a box, but kept his hand over the lid. "Close your eyes. 
Trust me." Beverly closed 
her eyes and opened her mouth, and Picard deposited a chocolate covered 
blueberry on her tongue. 


"Oh, that's good," she moaned, "another." Picard complied, smiling, then bent 
down to kiss her lightly 
while the taste of chocolate remained on her lips. "Umm," said Beverly, "I'm 
going to become as much 
of a chocoholic as Deanna if you keep that up." 


Picard was refilling the wine glasses, then beckoned to the couch, "Sit with me, 
please. I promise I'll 
only misbehave a little." 


"Why only a little?" asked Beverly, sitting next to him and taking her wine 
glass. 


"Because neither of us is ready for more than that; don't you agree?" Beverly 
nodded, and Picard 
continued, "But I have been thinking about kissing you all day." 


"That sounds like rather a dereliction of duty, Captain. You have an important 
scientific mission you're 
responsible for." 


"Quite so," responded Picard, twirling his wine glass, "but even I can't be 
responsible every second of 
every day, now can I? Some things just take precedence over my 
responsibilities." Beverly was too 
entranced to notice what a Q-like statement that was; if she had she would have 
been concerned about 
the extent of the entity's influence on Picard, but she had other things on her 
mind. Picard lightly 
touched his wine glass to hers, then, with his free hand, he combed her hair 
back from her forehead, 
stroked her cheek, then leaned in for a long kiss. Beverly put her hand on the 
back of Jean-Luc's neck to 
pull him closer, and in the process, they forgot their wine glasses, managing to 
spill a considerable 
amount over both of them. Both dissolved into laughter, and Picard remarked, 
"Well, it's a good thing it 
was white wine." He put the glasses safely out of range then returned to the 
sofa. Noticing a drop of 
wine that was slowly trickling down his companion's neck, he leaned forward to 
catch it with his lips, 
then remarked, "I am a Frenchman after all. Never waste good wine." 


"Words to live by," laughed Beverly. Despite the intimacy between them, they 
still sat slightly apart, 
leaning together to kiss, then drawing slightly apart again. 
  

Picard took Beverly's hand in his, sighed slightly, then said softly, "I'm 
afraid I must be very difficult 
for you to put up with these days." 


"So what's new? When were you ever easy?" 


He smiled, "Indeed. I just worry that I've been more difficult than usual since 
the time the Continuum 
put me on trial again. I think it was important to share what I learned, but it 
has confused things 
between us." 


"They were confused before, too, Jean-Luc. I . . . I don't think I know what I 
want any more than you 
do. I love these evenings and our breakfasts together, but beyond that, I just 
don't know. I care about 
you so deeply, but I don't know if I can ever marry again. That may seem foolish 
after all these years, 
but I think I've done pretty well for myself. You're not the only one who needs 
a certain amount of 
breathing space to thrive." 


Jean-Luc lifted Beverly's hand to his lips and remarked, "I don't know if I've 
ever put it quite this way 
before, but do you understand how much you impress me? You tend to keep that 
determined will of 
yours under wraps, but I'm always aware of it. It wouldn't surprise me at all to 
see you become 
Captain of your own ship some day." 


"Mmm," mused Beverly. "I've been thinking about that ever since you told me. Not 
that it hadn't 
occurred to me before. CMO of the Enterprise is a wonderful position; one 
couldn't ask for more in a 
career, but I do sometimes consider the possibility of trying something new one 
of these years." 


"Well, *I*'d hate to lose you, Doctor, for professional and personal reasons. I 
hope you're not 
contemplating any immediate career changes." 


"No not immediate. I'm very happy here. There is one thing, Jean-Luc. You don't 
owe me any 
explanations, of course, but I just have to say how much it disturbs me that I 
have no idea what 
happened to you right before Q came on board. I'm used to *this* barrier between 
us," she gestured at 
the space between them, "because neither of us is ready to take this further, 
but do you remember 
when we were telepathically linked?" 


"How could I forget?" 


"It hurts me that you won't confide in me . . . and it frightens me a little 
too." 


"You're right, of course. I should have told you, but I think I was worried you 
would think so much less 
of me. I've never done anything quite so foolish . . . and utterly dangerous. 
I'll tell you now, but I want 
to invoke doctor-patient confidentiality here. I suspect if you'd known before 
you would have relieved 
me of command; I certainly wasn't myself when I first returned to the ship, but 
it was important that I 
recover at least an illusion of normalcy as quickly as possible. And Q really 
was, and continues to be, a 
tremendous help. He's read my mind so thoroughly that I'm sure he knows me 
better than I know 
myself. It makes me uncomfortable, actually, knowing that I'll never have even a 
fraction of that much 
insight into him, but I couldn't have gotten through this without him." 


"What happened?" 


Picard put his head in his hand, slowly rubbing his hand over his face and 
forehead. Then he looked up, 
almost whispering, "I hope you'll be able to forgive my folly when you hear of 
it. I know I haven't been 
able to." Beverly took his hands in hers, and he continued, "Q recently remarked 
that he is, in some 
ways, my darker side. He somehow gets me to act on impulses that I would 
normally never act on, such 
as when he took me back in time, and I relived the fight with those Nausicaans. 
I don't like to admit it, 
but it really was . . . well . . . fun. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed it. And I 
think he's actually good for me 
that way. On this occasion, he was actually trying to *stop* me from acting on 
my worst impulses, 
and I mean my *worst*, but my arrogance, my pride got the better of me. Q has 
proved me wrong on 
so many occasions, that I had this irresistable compulsion to take the bait he 
was being forced to offer 
me--I wanted to triumph over him, to force him to acknowledge . . . I don't know 
. . . my ability, my 
intelligence, my competence." Picard hesitated, and Beverly was alarmed to see 
his eyes begin to 
glisten as he told her the whole story, from Q's initial reluctant kidnapping of 
him to Q's self-invitation 
on board the Enterprise. He related all the events in a dull, weary, numb tone, 
his only emotion being 
betrayed by his occasional blinking away tears. "I became a monster, Beverly," 
he concluded. "Q's 
powers were far too much for me to handle, but I'm so horrified that I accepted 
them in the first place. 
That was utterly unpardonable." 


She put her arms around him and pulled his head onto her shoulder. "Foolish and 
reckless, yes; 
unpardonable, no." 


He burrowed his his head further into her neck. "It's actually a great relief 
telling you. Verbalizing it 
and knowing I did no permanent harm makes it seem a little less devastating." 


"Knowing how hard you are on yourself, how have you dealt with it as well as you 
have?" 


"Q actually has some wisdom and insight, despite his capriciousness and self-
indulgence," replied 
Picard. "He gave me a well-deserved and severe tongue lashing immediately 
afterward." He smiled, "It 
was actually an impressive performance. But from that point on, his position was 
that I shouldn't waste 
my time and energy regretting what was past, when I had more pressing business 
to attend to. He 
managed to convince me that he was right. Not that the incident hasn't been 
haunting me, because it has, 
but Q made certain it didn't impair my ability to do my duties." 


"Well, he was right," acknowledged Beverly, somewhat surprised. 


"Do you know?" asked Picard, raising his head and sitting up straight again, "he 
actually apologized for 
losing his temper with me? Guinan put it into his head that he was also to 
blame, for I wouldn't have 
accepted the offer from another member of the Continuum." 


"That makes sense. Q can push your buttons like nobody else can." 


"Yes," sighed Picard, "and what I can't get over is what an easy target I seem 
to make myself for him. 
He probably took off to look for some greater challenges." 


Picard was smiling, but Beverly, sounding almost like Deanna, said softly, "You 
miss him." 


Picard nodded, then said, "But what I'm interested in right now is what you 
think. At least you haven't 
fled from me in horror." 


"Of course not, Jean-Luc." She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. 
"You're human; you 
made a human mistake in wanting to get back at Q in that fashion. It's just that 
between Q and the 
Continuum, they give you opportunities to make mistakes on a much larger scale 
than you normally 
would." 


"Isn't that the truth?" Having already bared his soul to Beverly, he allowed 
himself the indulgence of 
curling up against her, head on her shoulder, and they remained that way for 
some time, both feeling 
far more at ease than they had at the beginning of the evening. 


"It's late," Beverly eventually murmured. "I should go." Picard nodded, stood 
up, extended a hand to 
Beverly to help her up, then wrapped her in a tight embrace. She remained for a 
moment with her head 
pressed against his chest, then looked up. "Do I get a good-night kiss?" 


"Mmm," replied Picard, "I should think so." 


* * * 


Over the next couple of weeks, Picard and Beverly drew closer together, having 
regular breakfast and 
dinner dates. Picard found himself musing frequently over the fact that while he 
missed Q, quite a bit in 
fact, he also felt more relaxed not having him around. Q's presence generated an 
inevitable level of 
tension, but what Picard couldn't figure out was whether he preferred to be with 
or without it. Q 
checked in mentally every few days, but he was also keeping tabs on Picard's 
relationship with Beverly 
from afar, and he thought it best to keep out of the way. In addition, Q didn't 
find the Enterprise's 
current mission terribly exciting. He had seen plenty of solar systems form over 
the course of his 
lifetime, and the fact that so many scientists were converging on such a non-
event further confirmed 
his conviction of the paltriness of human scientific pursuits. Didn't they have 
*anything* better to 
occupy themselves with? Q's frustration with the state of his courtship and his 
natural restlessness 
were impelling him to do some exploring, but something held him back. Had he 
gone exploring, however, 
he might have encountered something that would freeze even *his* soul, something 
that was making 
leisurely but determined progress further into the galaxy. Fortunately for 
himself, Q remained in 
familiar territory, but jealous of Picard's attachment to Beverly Crusher and 
humiliated at the thought 
of competing with her, Q didn't see any reason to return to the Enterprise in 
the near future. He finally 
betook himself to his mountaintop refuge, figuring what he couldn't have in 
actuality he could have in his 
imagination. It would be real to him, and Picard would never be the wiser. 


* * * 


No sooner had the visiting scientists on board the Enterprise concluded their 
investigations and 
experiments and been deposited at Starbase 143 to hold a conference on the 
results, when the 
Enterprise received a distress call from the terraforming colony on Ulro III. 
The terraformers had 
accidentally triggered a massive quake that had overwhelmed their equipment and 
facilities. As the 
Enterprise leapt into warp, Crusher and her staff were making rapid 
preparations. 


As soon as the ship entered orbit, Crusher and her team beamed down to behold 
utter devastation. 
Except for a central structure housing computers and equipment, the rest of the 
buildings had been 
thrown up rather hastily. Terraformers tended to be a hardy lot, and they took 
pride in their spartan 
and utilitarian living conditions. There was not much left to take pride in. But 
the ones who were not 
severely injured were already digging out survivors from under crushed buildings 
and fallen rocks. 
Data immediately sprung into action, his superior strength greatly facilitating 
the process. As the away 
team spread out, looking for survivors, Beverly was following some life sign 
readings on her tricorder 
and found herself quite a distance from the rest of the away team. The readings 
grew stronger as she 
approached the base of a rocky ledge. They seemed to be emanating from a small 
cave considerably 
above. The way looked precarious, and she wasn't happy; she never liked heights, 
and this wasn't the 
holodeck. Still, climb she must, and she did. Of course the medical kit slung 
over her shoulder didn't 
help. Carefully testing each handhold and foothold, she slowly ascended, 
reminding herself not to look 
down. She was suddenly startled when her communicator beeped. "Riker to Crusher. 
Report." 


With a sharp intake of breath, she paused in her ascent, and responded, "Crusher 
here. I'm reading life 
signs in a cave on top of a ledge, and I'm on my way up." 


"You shouldn't be alone. I'll send Data to assist." 


"Acknowledged. Crusher out." 


She continued her ascent, gasping as a small rock went skittering away from 
under her foot and plunged 
downward. "I knew there was a reason I didn't like heights," she muttered to 
herself. As she 
approached the top, she could hear a voice calling faintly for help. Spurred on 
by the knowledge she had 
work to do, she climbed more purposefully. Fortunately there was a solid rock 
jutting out from the 
ledge that gave her an easy handhold to pull herself up. The ledge was narrow, 
and the mouth of the 
cave was partially blocked by boulders, but there was an entrance narrow enough 
for her to squeeze in. 


A young woman lay partially pinned under a fallen boulder; her body was 
partially twisted, and she was 
lying face down. "My leg," she whispered, as Crusher scanned her with a medical 
tricorder. 


"You're going to be all right," said Crusher with a reassuring smile. "I'm a 
doctor. I'm going to give you 
something for the pain, then we'll take a look at that leg." As she administered 
the hypospray, she 
thought, "//Where the hell is Data?//" "Your leg's going to be fine; we just 
have to get you up to the 
ship. You should be walking on it again in a couple of days." The young woman 
nodded and tried to 
muster a smile. "Was there anyone else with you?" asked the doctor. 


"Yes, two" whispered the young woman. "They were doing geological studies 
further up." 


"We'll look for them as soon as we get you stabilized." Moments later, Data 
squeezed into the cave. 


"Can you get that boulder off of her? I need to get her up to the ship." 


"Yes, Doctor." Data lifted off the heavy boulder with ease, and Crusher signaled 
the Enterprise, "one to 
beam up, directly to sick bay." 


"Come on, Doctor. This cave is not safe." 


"She said there were two others farther up." 


Data nodded. "There is a kind of path leading up four meters along the ledge." 


"Let's go," said Beverly. Data helped her out of the narrow cave opening, then 
began to move along the 
ledge a few steps ahead of the doctor. Suddenly there was a tremendous jolt. 
Another quake rocked the 
planet's surface. As Data whirled around toward Beverly, he saw a falling 
boulder strike her in the 
head as she was knocked off-balance and plunged off the ledge. Even for Data, 
who registered the 
passing of time completely objectively, the shaking seemed to go on for minutes. 
As soon as it stopped, 
he scrambled hastily down the decline to look for the doctor. 


* * * 


//Q, invisible, reclined on the lounge chair in Picard's quarters, waiting for 
the Captain to be off-duty. 
When Picard entered, Q remained invisible, shamelessly watching as Picard 
removed his uniform and 
stretched, bending his waist with his arms over his head, while Q happily 
admired the play of his 
muscles, then headed for the shower. After having changed into pajamas, he stood 
in his bedroom, 
rotating his head to release the tension in his neck and shoulders. He was not 
surprised when he felt a 
pair of invisible thumbs begin to rub his neck. "I knew you were here," said 
Picard quietly. "I could tell 
as soon as I walked in the room."// 


//A voice replied right next to his ear, "Did you now? So that stretching 
exhibition was for my 
benefit?"// 


//Picard felt a pair of invisible arms circle his waist from behind, and he 
closed his eyes, wrapped his 
own arms around those that were encircling him, and leaned back into the 
invisible form behind him, as 
an invisible hand slipped inside the V-shaped opening of his shirt and a set of 
fingertips ran up and down 
his side from waist to chest. Feeling a pair of lips on his neck, he drew in his 
breath sharply, then 
murmured, "Why don't you show yourself?"// 


//"All in good time, mon Capitaine, all in good time."// 


//"You have me at rather a disadvantage," noted Picard, as the lips traveled to 
his shoulder.// 


//"Precisely. My powers have to be good for something, don't they?"// 


//"Mmm," replied Picard slowly, "but they're no match for my reflexes." He spun 
around suddenly, 
releasing himself from Q's grasp, and grabbing the invisible entity before he 
had time to react. Q found 
himself being pushed onto the bed, and he was so startled that he lost his 
concentration, and became 
visible again.// 


////Damn!// thought Q to himself.// 


//Picard stepped back, adjusting his pajama shirt with a satisfied tug. Smiling 
a devastating smile, he 
remarked calmly, "Haven't you learned by now never to underestimate me?"// 


//Q leaned back on the bed, gazed at Picard through half-closed eyes, and 
replied, "Apparently not. 
You'll just have to show me what you're capable of, *human*."// 


//"My pleasure."// 
  


Chapter 13 


Q's implausible reverie was suddenly interrupted when an anguished cry of //Q!// 
broke in on his 
consciousness. "Just when it was getting good," he muttered to himself. Within 
seconds he was back on 
the ship, materializing in sick bay, whence Picard had summoned him. He was 
*not* in a good mood. 
"You called?" asked Q nonchalantly. 


Picard looked terrified. He was standing next to one of the biobeds on which the 
mangled body of 
Beverly Crusher had been placed. Q himself felt slightly sickened at the sight 
of the bruises and 
swelling and blood. But he was in a particularly perverse mood and had no 
intention of making anything 
easy for anybody. "Please Q," pleaded Picard, "you know why I called you. I know 
you can help her. 
Please. I need your help." 


Q looked unconcerned. "Why, Captain, death is one of the hazards of your 
mission. Would you have me 
suspend the laws of nature, those laws to which you humans are so utterly bound, 
and make an 
exception?" 


"Damn it, Q, YES!" 


"I honestly don't know what the Continuum would think of me bringing you mortals 
back from the dead 
right and left. It seems like that would be a major interference in your natural 
development." 


"Q, she was trying to help the injured. She didn't deserve to die that way." 


Q's voice grew increasingly menacing. "Of course she didn't. Life isn't fair. 
Neither is death. In fact, 
it's downright irrational. There's no plan; people die who deserve long lives, 
and those who deserve an 
early death live years beyond their time. You know this; she knew this." 


Picard fairly roared, "I don't care about what's fair, and I don't care about 
what the Continuum thinks. 
BRING HER BACK!" 


"Whatever you say, Captain." Q gave a dismissive flip of the hand. "She'll wake 
up in a minute or so. 
Any more miracles you'd like me to perform? It's a dirty job, but apparently 
*somebody*'s got to do 
it." With that, he disappeared. 


Picard ran to Beverly's side and was holding her hand as she opened her eyes. 
"It's all right, now, 
Beverly. You were hurt." 


"Jean-Luc," she murmured, "I was sure I was dead. The ground was shaking, and 
something hit me in 
the head." Picard hesitated. 


"What is it, Jean-Luc?" 


"You were dead, I think; Q brought you back." 


"Q--why?" 


"I asked him to. I couldn't bear that you should die that way." 


"Jean-Luc," she smiled and kissed Picard's hand. Beverly started to get up, but 
Picard and the medical 
staff tried to stop her. "I feel perfectly fine, like nothing happened. You'll 
have to thank Q for me; I 
wish *I* could practice medicine like that." 


Once he was sure she was all right, Picard checked on the condition of the 
evacuated colonists, then 
ordered the ship to the nearest Starbase to drop them off. Later that night, in 
his quarters, after 
having changed into his pajamas, Picard sat on the edge of his bed, feeling 
troubled. With his trademark 
flash of light, Q appeared next to him. "I must compliment you on your taste in 
night clothes, mon 
Capitaine. Very fetching." 


Picard murmured thank-you. His conscious mind had barely processed the remark, 
but within his 
subconscious, a small key turned a notch, and a sliver of light entered the 
room. 


"Q, I don't know how to thank-you or where to begin. Beverly, of course, wanted 
to thank you too." 


"Oh, please spare me that. Anyway, don't thank me yourself. It was nothing. 
Really. Just call on Q when 
you're not willing to make the effort to do something yourself." 


"What are you talking about?" 


"You could have done it yourself, Picard, only you're so bound by your limited 
way of seeing things, 
that it never entered your mind." 


"I don't understand. I couldn't bring Beverly back to life." 


"And this is the man that only a few weeks ago was about to smash an entire 
Cardassian fleet into sub-
atomic particles if I hadn't stopped you." 


"I had your power then," said Picard, utterly lost, "You took it back." 


"So I said at the time; maybe I never gave it to you in the first place, or 
maybe I did and never took it 
back, or maybe it happened just as you think it did. I'm not going to tell you," 
Q smiled. "You have 
absolutely not the beginnings of an idea of what the mind can do. Much to my 
dismay, you and the doctor 
have a bond that transcends your physical and intellectual limitations. If you 
really put your mind to it, 
you could have brought her back, as long as you believed you could." 


Picard murmured, "I'm not a doctor, Q." 


"I know, you're a starship captain. That has nothing to do with it. You humans 
have such utterly 
primitive medical techniques anyway--*I* wouldn't want to have to rely on them. 
They're irrelevant. 
Don't you get it? The mind is everything, Picard. This ship seems solid enough 
to you," Q thumped on 
the wall, "but it's as fragmentary and illusory as anything else. Watch." Q 
passed his hand through the 
wall and back. "That wall, this ship, those stars and planets out there give the 
illusion of solidity. 
They're solid because you believe them to be. I, however, perceive them at the 
quantum level, in a 
state of constant instability and flux. When I wish for an object to support me, 
like this bed, I think of it 
as solid, but when I want to pass through an object, I insert myself through it 
in quantum terms. You 
don't need your transporter to do that. It's all mind. I could blow up your ship 
with a thought; I only 
have to imagine the molecules breaking apart, the forces that hold them together 
being nullified. I don't 
need a phaser or photon torpedo for that. Matter is just a bunch of subatomic 
particles in flux, held 
together with quantum forces; my mind can exert even greater forces to either 
disrupt those 
connections or forge new ones. Want a replica of the Enterprise? I could create 
it in an instant, and you 
wouldn't be able to tell the difference between it and this ship, that crew and 
yourselves. Life and death 
are states of mind, and you remain subject to death as long as you believe it is 
something that happens 
to you, that you can't control. I honestly don't see how someone with as much 
potential as yourself can 
be so hopelessly dense, Picard. Haven't your experiences with different time 
lines taught you that this 
reality you're so grounded in is simply a function of your perceptions and the 
perceptions of those 
around you? It's an illusion. History is an illusion. I could alter history 
permanently with the merest 
tinkering of any point in what you see as the past, and the result wouldn't be 
any more or less real than 
what you think of as reality now. Remember your Shakespeare's Tempest; you made 
the speech, and he 
was right, you know. This is all an 'insubstantial pageant.' We're all living a 
dream; it's just that some 
of us have more conscious control over the dream we choose to live in than 
others." 


The Captain's head was spinning. "You're right, Q. I'm hopelessly dense, my 
brain is in a muddle, and 
even as I understand your words, I have no idea how to make what you say real to 
me. I understand that 
you can use your mind to manipulate matter, energy, space, and time, but I've 
always assumed it is 
simply because your species somehow evolved that way." 


"We did, but that's because we chose to. You could too. Your limitations are 
self-imposed, Jean-Luc. 
And if you expect me to solve every little problem you're faced with, you're 
never going to learn 
anything." 


"I cannot dismiss Beverly's death as a 'little problem.' To me it was an 
insurmountable problem. I admit 
my limitations, and I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you, and I'm sorry I 
can't grasp what you're 
saying, but I needed your help. I asked for it. I don't expect you to be 
gracious about helping, but I 
appreciate it. Thank you. To me, it was a miracle." 


Q softened, "Well, I wish you wouldn't thank me. It was no sweat, so don't go 
around treating me like a 
saint all of a sudden." 


Picard grinned. "Q, don't worry. Sainthood is the very least of the qualities I 
would attribute to you." 


"That's a relief, Jean-Luc." 


"But I do have a question. If the mind is everything, then how come the 
Continuum was able to strip you 
of your powers? How come you couldn't surmount that little problem?" 


Q smiled, shaking his head, "It figures that you would ask me that, Jean-Luc. I 
was hoping you'd let me 
off easy, let me make my big speech and get away with it. The best answer I can 
give you is that, 
powerful as I am, I haven't been able to convince myself that I'm stronger than 
the combined power of 
the Continuum. And that makes me vulnerable--they could destroy me if they saw 
fit. I'm sure there 
are other beings out there who could make a convincing show of being more 
powerful than I believe I 
am, as well." 


Q continued, "I hate to return to a painful subject, but this incident with your 
lovely Doctor C raises a 
problem." 


"What?" asked Picard. 


"Oh, I'm not going to just give it to you, Johnny. That would be too easy. Think 
about what you just did 
back in Sick Bay." 


Picard's brow furrowed. There was a long silence. "I asked you to bring Beverly 
back to life," he said 
slowly and hesitatingly. "In fact, I insisted on it. Your concern is that this 
might set a precedent." 


"You're smart, my mortal friend. How much difference is there really between 
your having my powers 
and your telling me what to do with my powers? I know you wouldn't ask me to 
destroy an enemy of 
yours outright; I could simply make your ship invulnerable, which I imagine 
would give any attacker a 
profound motivation to negotiate. And in that situation I'm extending my 
protection equally to your 
whole crew. But what happens the next time one of them gets killed in the line 
of duty? And the time 
after that? Or a crew member or family member of a crew member develops a fatal 
illness? Believe 
me or not, Jean-Luc, I do use my powers judiciously. I may select a mortal here 
or there whose life I 
intend to guarantee, but when that mortal starts asking me to extend that 
protection to this individual 
or that individual, eventually the impact on what you think of as history is 
going to be pretty large. 
Where does it stop? I have a hard time refusing you anything you ask. Are you 
prepared to wield the 
power of life and death over your crew? Decide who lives and who dies? What if I 
had been around when 
Jack Crusher died, for instance?" 


Picard winced. Whispering, he said, "I would have asked you to do the same 
thing. Of course I would. He 
was my best friend, regardless of what I felt for Beverly at the time." 


"I know, Jean-Luc. But what would the impact have been? And I don't just mean 
for your relationship 
with Beverly. You're so damned noble you would ask for his life back in a second 
even now without any 
regard for yourself. But what about her? Would she be the same person she is now 
if she didn't have to 
rely on herself all these years? What about young Mr. Crusher and the incredible 
(for a human) 
evolutionary process he's going through? Maybe Jack Crusher's untimely demise 
was a necessary 
sacrifice to allow the three of you to develop the way you have, to make the 
contributions you have 
made and are going to make in your lifetimes. What if you had asked me to bring 
your Lieutenant Yar 
back in this timeline? Would she have gone back to the past in the alternate one 
you stumbled into? That 
kind of interference can have pretty hefty consequences. I have far more ability 
to foresee the future 
than you do. I can decide to preserve a life here or there because I can weigh 
the possible consequences. 
If I do protect your ship, I can make adjustments if necessary. You can't. I'm 
not trying to denigrate 
you, but you just can't. But when you make that kind of request of me, and I 
have to turn you down . . . 
" 


"If you hadn't restored Beverly, I never would have forgiven you. Unfair and 
unjust as that would be, I 
would never forgive you." 


"Exactly." 


"But if I hadn't demanded that you bring her back, I never would have forgiven 
myself. I do see the 
position I'm putting you in, and I do see that I'm taking on a power I'm not 
ready to wield, but honestly, 
the next situation that arises, I don't know *what* I'll do. This is not exactly 
an easy issue to 
resolve." 


"No, and I don't have the answers for you. I just want you to think about the 
questions. As your species 
evolves, and some members of it evolve more quickly than others, you're going to 
have to wrestle with 
questions like that. I just want you know when you asked me I wasn't giving you 
a hard time 
gratuitously. But of more immediate concern to me, however, is you, Picard. You 
honestly don't have a 
clue what you're capable of. My telling you that the mind is everything and that 
reality is a function of 
perception is meaningless. You have to discover that for yourself. And to that 
end, allow me the 
indulgence of an experiment . . . " 


"Q!!!" exclaimed Picard, but it was too late. His room went dark, utterly pitch 
black. It fell completely 
silent. None of the ambient sounds of the ship could be heard. As Picard's eyes 
began to adjust to the 
darkness, he determined that he was in at the bottom of a narrow and deep shaft, 
which had rungs 
leading up . . . to where? It was too dark for Picard to see more than a few 
feet above him. After 
gingerly feeling the slippery and smooth walls of the shaft, he paused. "All 
right, Q, what's the point of 
this?" There was no reply. 


There didn't seem to be anything else to do but to start climbing. The rungs had 
to be there for a reason. 
Picard climbed . . . and climbed . . . and climbed . . . and climbed some more . 
. . and some more. He 
wasn't worried about falling at first as he was an expert climber, but as he 
climbed the shaft seemed to 
be lengthening out above him; after what seemed like hours of climbing he was 
nowhere near anything 
that resembled the top. Picard paused, trying to disregard the agony in his 
knees and shoulders. The 
rungs were extremely narrow, allowing only the toe of his boot to rest on them, 
which strained any 
number of muscles in his legs and feet. After breathing deeply for several 
moments he resumed. The 
climb was so numbing he almost forgot entirely about Q; his entire being was 
focused on reaching the 
top. How he had gotten there in the first place was an issue he was too tired to 
be concerned about. 


After what felt like even more hours of climbing and pausing, climbing and 
pausing, climbing and 
pausing, Picard stopped. //What the hell am I doing?// he thought to himself. 
The muscles in his arms 
and legs were trembling from the exertion, his legs were beginning to feel like 
spaghetti, and he was 
drenched with sweat. Sweat had been pouring into his eyes for some time now, 
which stung intensely, 
but he was afraid to let go long enough to wipe them. Anyway it wouldn't have 
done any good; his 
sleeves were soaked. 


//Wait. How did I get here? Q, damn it! Something about an experiment. And here 
I am, the rat in the 
maze. I suppose if I ever do get to the top there'll be a nice Brie waiting for 
me. But that's not the point, 
is it? What was he saying? Something about the mind being everything . . .//  At 
this point, his 
attention was distracted by the sensation of both feet and calves cramping from 
holding this unnatural 
position for so long. Picard gingerly wiped one hand at a time on his pants, so 
they wouldn't slip on the 
rungs, then stretched out one leg at a time, flexing his foot to stretch out the 
cramped muscles. Not 
trusting his damp hands, he quickly resumed his spider-like crouch on the rungs 
and returned to his 
musings. 


//The mind is everything, he said. Reality is a function of perception. Good 
enough. So as long as I 
believe I'm in this godforsaken shaft, then I'm stuck. I have to believe I'm 
back in my quarters, on my 
bed. But how the hell do I do that?// Picard closed his eyes, wincing slightly 
at the stinging sensation, 
then began to concentrate, trying to visualize his bedroom and himself in it. It 
wasn't easy. His 
trembling and aching muscles made it hard to concentrate, and Picard realized 
that every inch of his 
body was soaked except his throat, which was dry as sandpaper. He reminded 
himself, however, that 
he had won the Starfleet Academy marathon, the only freshman to have done so, no 
less. Aching 
muscles were a minor concern and could be dismissed by a disciplined mind. 
Picard concentrated harder 
on the image of his bedroom, trying to see himself in it, to make the shaft melt 
away, leaving only a 
small part of his attention on his cramped hands gripping the rungs. 


Suddenly he heard a mocking voice in his head, //You're getting closer, Picard. 
I thought you'd 
*never* figure it out though. Apparently, they'll let *anybody* command a 
starship, these days. This 
is your reality now. It's out of my hands. But you haven't really convinced 
yourself you're in your 
quarters and not in this shaft. Until you do, you're stuck.// 


//I'm trying, damn it!// snapped Picard mentally. 


//A for effort, D for execution, so far//, returned the mocking voice. //You 
certainly don't act like 
you believe you're in your quarters.// 


The realization broke suddenly on Picard's mind. He knew he had to believe he 
was in his room enough to 
let go of the rungs. But if he didn't believe it, he knew with utter certainty 
he'd be dead meat at the 
bottom of the shaft. Dead and mangled meat for that matter. He began to repeat 
to himself, over and 
over, "I'm in my bedroom, I'm in my bedroom," then he had to laugh aloud at the 
the absurdity of the 
situation. He felt like Dorothy, saying "There's no place like home." 
Interesting how certain children's 
stories stood the test of time. He supposed that made Q the Wizard, and the 
concept amused him even 
more. "I'm in my bedroom," he repeated to himself, still laughing, and finally 
let go of the the rungs . . . 


And opened his eyes . . . 


And found himself back in his very own room, sitting on his very own bed, still 
drenched in sweat and 
sore all over. Q was standing in front of him, arms folded, eyes twinkling with 
amusement. 
"Congratulations, Mr. Picard. You've passed the class," then in a harder tone, 
"just barely." 


Picard laughed. "Q, your teaching style is worthy of several professors I had at 
the academy. I believe 
we used a colloquial term to describe them. I believe that term had seven 
letters and started with 'a.'" 


"But you learned something, didn't you? Only if you weren't so dim, you would 
have figured it out long 
before you worked yourself into such a sweat. Ugh." Q waved his hand up and down 
in front of Picard, 
who was instantly clean and dry, his muscles pain-free. 


"I have one question, Q." 


"Yeeesss?" 


"Would you have let me fall?" 


Q smiled and nodded, "Uh huh. Yup." His eyes locked on Picard's. "I would have 
put you back together of 
course. It would have interesting, all those little shattered bone fragments. 
You wouldn't have enjoyed 
either the fall or the impact, however. But it would have been educational. No 
pain, no gain, and all 
that." 


"You really do remind me of some of my professors," remarked Picard. 


"Yes, well, I may be that seven-letter epithet you're too delicate to call me, 
but this wasn't just a 
game. The mind *is* everything, and someday you'll be in a situation where that 
knowledge will serve 
you well as long as you don't let your human limitations impede you." 


Picard nodded. "I get the point, Q." 


"Well, it certainly took you a while! Next time, I'm giving you a time limit." 


Q disappeared in a flash. In another flash, something appeared in Picard's 
hands. It was a large round of 
French Brie. "What an asshole," muttered Picard to himself, but he was smiling. 


* * * 


//The young cadet strode through the halls of the astrophysics building at 
Starfleet Academy, on his 
way to pick up the results of his final exam in his advanced astrophysics class. 
The class had been much 
more interesting than he had anticipated, and the instructor had had an 
impressive array of fascinating 
facts and details about the universe at his fingertips. The professor had also 
been very convivial, 
joining the cadet and his friends for drinks after class and relating tales of 
his travels around the 
galaxy. Several of the women had clearly had crushes on him, and the cadet 
himself had to admit the 
professor was one of the most interesting people he had ever met.// 


//When the cadet knocked on his professor's door, the man swung his chair 
around, smiled, and looked 
the young cadet up and down. "Ah, I suppose you want to know how you did on the 
exam."// 


//"Yes, sir."// 


//"How do you think you did?"// 


//"With all due respect, sir," said his pupil in a not particularly respectful 
voice, "I hate it when 
professors do that."// 


//"Why do you think we do it? Answer my question, young man."// 


//"I think I, to use an old earth expression, kicked ass, sir."// 


//"That would be an accurate assessment. In fact, this is the highest score on 
an exam I've ever given. 
You'll go far, Cadet." The professor handed the exam back to his student, 
asking, "I'm really quite 
impressed. Buy you a drink?"// 


//"Thanks, Professor. I never turn down the offer of a drink."// 


//The professor turned off his computer, and the two men headed toward the 
nearest watering hole. 
Over drinks, he queried his pupil about his future plans. As they walked back 
through a deserted part of 
the campus grounds, the professor said suddenly, "Now that you're no longer in 
my class, I have a 
confession to make."// 


//The cadet's eyes opened quite a bit wider.// 


//The professor continued, "I've always taken a particular interest in you, 
young man. And not an 
entirely professional one."// 


//The cadet was somewhat disconcerted, but he was brash enough not to let it 
show. "I see what 
you're getting at, Professor, but my interests don't lie in that direction."// 


//"Yes, I know. You have quite a reputation as a ladies' man. But you also have 
a reputation as someone 
who will try just about anything. Why limit yourself?" asked the professor, 
tipping his head slightly to 
one side and smiling with raised eyebrows.// 


//"Well, it's certainly something that it had never occurred to me to try," said 
the cadet 
uncomfortably.// 


//"Why, are you scared?" taunted the professor.// 


//"I'm not scared of anything," retorted the cadet.// 


//"Well then, prove it," said the professor, with another slight sideways nod of 
his head. "I would hate 
to think my best student would be intimidated by a new experience. My place is 
just over there. Care to 
join me?"// 


//The professor had taken precisely the correct approach to pique his student's 
curiosity and to stir 
his natural arrogance as well. After a few moments of hesitation, the cadet 
nodded with an assumed 
casualness, "Sure, why not?"// 


Jean-Luc Picard shot awake with a start. //Q, God damn it, get in here!// he 
demanded. 


At first he heard a disembodied mocking laughter, then Q materialized at the 
foot of the bed, laughing so 
hard that tears were streaming from his eyes. He could barely speak, but managed 
to observe, "Well, 
well, well, the subconscious is a wondrous thing. Where's Sigmund Freud when you 
need him? But I'm 
really disappointed. You woke up right before the best part." 


"Q!" snapped Picard, "Is this your idea of a joke? I don't appreciate these 
nocturnal invasions. They're 
completely unethical. I'm furious that you would do such a thing!" 


"Moi? You wound me, Jean-Luc, with your unwarranted accusations. *I* didn't 
plant that dream in 
your head." 


"What are you saying, Q?" 


"Oh, you are so dense when you first wake up, Picard. What I'm saying is that 
your subconscious mind 
conjured up that scenario all by its perverse little self. I was merely a 
spectator. I have to say, it gave 
me an idea though." 


"You leave my past alone!" raged Picard. 


"I will admit," continued Q, "that on prior occasions I have been known to plant 
dreams in your mind and 
watch the results, but I always made a point of erasing your memory of them 
before you woke up. And 
I'm truly ashamed to confess that I *never* came up with anything *nearly* that 
creative. I'm in awe. 
I never realized your imagination was so sordid . . . Johnny." Q dissolved in 
gales of laughter again. 


"I don't believe you." 


Q sat up suddenly. "Well, you'd better start, mon Capitaine, because I may be 
unscrupulous in many 
respects, but *I don't lie to you*. Never have, never will. But I have to say, 
while I'm deeply hurt by 
your distrust, I'm infinitely grateful for the ammunition you've handed me. I'm 
going to hold this one 
over you for *years*!" 


Picard dropped his head into his hands, muttering "Merde, merde, merde." 


Q moved over so he was sitting immediately next to Picard. As he traced one 
finger up and down his 
victim's spine, he murmured into Picard's ear, "You look like you could use a 
drink, *young man*." 


Picard jumped. "Q! Please! I don't need this!" 


"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc . . . well, no I'm not . . . I'm enjoying this immensely, 
and it was an impulse I just 
couldn't resist." 


"How unusual for you," retorted Picard, drily, having recovered some of his 
composure. "Normally 
you're such a paragon of self-control." 


"Well, as in all my endeavors, my intentions are thoroughly dishonorable. But in 
this case, you have 
only yourself to blame." 


Picard sighed. "You really mean it. You didn't plant that dream in my mind." 


"Picard," exclaimed Q, "every time you attain a new abyss of obtuseness, you 
manage to outdo 
yourself. For the last time, let me explain. I did not provide you with that 
dream. I have to give credit 
where credit is due. It was all your own doing. I have to say, it was *quite* 
entertaining. You know, 
whenever you happen to be thinking about me, or in this case, dreaming about me, 
I am instantly 
alerted. I can't help it; I had to watch. For that particular invasion of your 
privacy, I apologize, 
although I make no promises as to my future behavior." 


"I don't know what to say," confessed Picard helplessly. 


"Would you like me to give you *my* interpretation?" 


"I'm guessing you're going to give it to me whether I want you to or not." 


"True." 


Picard sat back and folded his arms. "I'm listening, Q." 


"I think the reason you dreamed about an encounter between me and your younger 
self is that 'Johnny' 
would be far more inclined to experiment than *you* would, Captain. I've 
*aroused* your curiosity if 
nothing else. But I'm not interested in simply serving as a means to satisfy 
your curiosity. That's not 
what I'm after." 


"What *are* you after?" 


"To tell you the truth, I don't exactly know, but this isn't a game to me, Jean-
Luc. You mean more to 
me than any other being I have ever encountered, and I've been around for a long 
time." 


Picard was moved by Q's apparent honesty and suddenly serious demeanor, but he 
remained cautious. "I 
see. But why me? I still don't get it." 


"Maybe I just love a man in a uniform." 


Picard sighed and raised his eyebrows. "Q, if there exists another being in this 
galaxy more infuriating 
than you, please warn me, so I can steer clear of it. Why do I put up with you?" 


"Because, Picard, the possibilities I offer you are endless. Good-night, Johnny. 
*Sweet dreams.*" 


"God forbid. Good-night, Q." 
  


Chapter 14 


A few days later, the Enterprise was exploring a distant and unmapped portion of 
the Alpha Quadrant, 
Starfleet having granted Picard permission to avail himself of Q's powers in the 
pursuit of scientific 
knowledge. So far the mission was uneventful. Various members of the science 
staff were making 
charts and analyzing data, but without anyone noticing, they slowed down more 
and more, focusing on 
their tasks, but at a very desultory pace. The rest of the crew were feeling 
equally relaxed. Beverly 
Crusher had lost interest in the experiment she was doing and had retired to her 
office, playing idly 
with a paperweight on her desk. The children in school were all unusually quiet 
and well-behaved, but 
their teacher didn't seem to have the energy to lead them in any activities, so 
they all watched movies 
on the classroom computer screen instead. Geordi suddenly found the maintenance 
he was supervising in 
Engineering to be too much trouble, and he gave his staff the day off. Q himself 
wasn't paying attention 
to what was going on, as he was engaged in an involved discussion with Guinan, 
comparing some of the 
experiences over the past couple of centuries. In fact, both Q and Guinan had 
uncharacteristically let 
their usual alertness lapse. Picard was reading in his ready room, not terribly 
interested in the 
astronomical details his staff was collecting. Now if there were interesting 
archeological sites to 
explore, that would have been another matter. 


On the bridge, even Worf was unusually relaxed; his stiff warrior demeanor had 
become transformed 
into an almost meditative pose, as his attention drifted away from his console. 
Only Data seemed 
unaffected by the mild languor affecting the rest of the crew. Deanna seemed 
more listless than the 
rest; she repeatedly yawned and announced her intention to take a nap. The lull 
did not last long, 
however. Q suddenly sensed something. He felt momentarily like his mind was 
being deeply probed, 
examined, studied, scanned in a manner unlike any previous telepathic contact he 
had ever had with his 
own species or others. It was not a pleasant sensation. As soon as he tried to 
reach out mentally to 
determine its source, he found himself thwarted. His mind encountered only a 
blank wall. It was at this 
moment that Guinan became aware of a presence as well, and she stared out of the 
Ten-Forward 
windows with alarm. "What is it?" whispered Guinan. "There's something out 
there, but I can't get a fix 
on it at all." 


Q was temporarily paralyzed; he had a look of stricken fear Guinan had never 
seen before, and it 
terrified her. When he had recovered his powers of speech, he could only murmur, 
"It really exists. It's 
true. And it's here. It exists, and it's here." Suddenly he turned to Guinan, 
and exclaimed, "And you 
thought the Borg were dangerous. Come on!" 


A moment later Q and Guinan had materialized on the bridge. Q quickly assessed 
the passive state of the 
crew and murmured in the same awestruck tone he had used in Ten-Forward, "It's 
already happening." 
Q forced himself to shake loose the clouds gathering in his mind, strode into 
Picard's ready room, and 
announced, "Captain, we're in more danger than you can possibly imagine. No time 
to explain. I'm going 
to get us out of here." 


Picard slowly lifted his head from his book, paused as if wondering what to 
reply, then said casually, 
"Umm, whatever you say, Q, make it so." Q was already back on the bridge. As the 
increasingly 
drowsy and relaxed bridge crew watched the viewscreen in numb amazement, Q threw 
one of his 
trademark gridlike force fields around the object that was causing him such 
concern, then sent the 
Enterprise whipping across the sector to what he hoped would be a safe distance 
. . . for a while. 
Fortunately, Q had gotten the Enterprise out of the range of whatever it was, 
and the ship's population 
slowly returned to their usual selves, feeling like they were struggling out 
from layers and layers of 
sleep. When the bridge crew seemed sufficiently clear-headed, Q mentally 
proposed that Picard call a 
meeting, insisting that Guinan be present as well. 


When they had all convened in the observation lounge, Q looked around the table, 
and asked, "Can you all 
pay attention now? This is serious." 


Worf seemed embarrassed about his lapse in alertness and sat up ramrod straight. 
Except for Deanna, 
who was still rubbing her eyes, the others were pretty much back to normal. 
Picard asked, "Q, can you 
fill us in? Are we out of danger?" 


Q sighed, "For a little while. It may be able to block your sensors, but I think 
I can keep monitoring for 
it myself. It's a long story, but since the fate of your galaxy depends on it, I 
think I'll start at the 
beginning. Even though my fellow Q and I have the capacity to travel outside the 
galaxy, most of us 
have never taken that opportunity. On the whole, we're a pretty lazy bunch. But 
many thousands of 
years ago, before I became conscious, two members of the Continuum decided to go 
exploring in the 
Andromeda galaxy. That was a time when we were more like you; we had more drive, 
more desire for 
knowledge. Well, the two of them never returned. Before the Continuum lost all 
contact with them, they 
managed to send a rather incoherent message which was only received by a few 
members of the 
Continuum who could receive thoughts from that distance. The explorers warned of 
a being with 
telepathic powers that surpassed ours to a tremendous degree. Since their 
message was so unclear, my 
fellow Q didn't know what to make of it. It seemed too dangerous to investigate, 
but no one was ever 
really sure whether the explorers were telling the truth or simply projecting an 
elaborate story, so no 
one would expect them back. They had been rebels, malcontents actually, and the 
Continuum couldn't 
decide whether to take their messages seriously. It became more of a legend as 
centuries and millenia 
passed. We didn't know whether this being really existed. But what the explorers 
did convey was that 
its telepathic capacities were unimaginably powerful. I could brainwash all of 
you with a thought; I 
could get you to do whatever I wanted you to do, to think whatever I wanted you 
to think, and to feel 
whatever I wanted you to feel. Even Data would not be immune; as you've seen, I 
was able to make him 
laugh. Fortunately for you, we in the Continuum have developed enough of an 
ethical sense not to go 
around imposing mind control on inferior species. We may experiment on you, but 
we don't take over 
your minds. Well, this being--I don't know what to call it--apparently has no 
such ethical restraints, 
and it, according to the reports of the explorers, can apparently exert mental 
control even over us." 


"To what purpose?" asked Troi. 


"Good question. According to the reports received back from the explorers, what 
they sensed from the 
entity was an overwhelming boredom and hostility. I believe it's just looking 
for stimulation. The last 
that was heard of the explorers they were unaccountably trying to destroy each 
other, apparently 
having been brainwashed into doing so by the entity. At the time, many in the 
Continuum didn't believe 
what they were receiving because it seemed too implausible that there was a 
being out there that could 
brainwash us. The Q have a tendency to be a bit complacent. But I sensed an 
overwhelmingly powerful 
mind out there, more powerful than my own, and believe me, that's not easy for 
me to admit. I believe 
that our ship-wide lapse of alertness was the entity's way of getting control 
over the ship. Once 
everyone had lost all volition, it could amuse itself with all of us at its 
leisure." 


"Can it be stopped?" demanded Riker. 


"Well, I'm certainly going to try to find out. Give me a minute here." Q closed 
his eyes, focusing 
mentally on the distant entity, his face a mask of concentration. When he opened 
his eyes, he shook his 
head and exhaled in a prolonged sigh. "It's blocking me somehow. I can get only 
minimal information 
about it." 


Guinan spoke up, "Maybe it noticed you in particular, when we first encountered 
it. You're the most 
powerful of its intended victims." 


"Yes, and I really appreciate how tactfully you phrased that, Woman! But I think 
you're right. I sensed 
it probing me in Ten-Forward, and then it was like a barrier came up. 
Unfortunately it probably has a 
lot more information about *my* capacities than I do about its. At least from 
here, I don't seem to be 
able to affect it in any way." 


"What have you been able to find out?" asked Picard. 


"So far, what I've been able to determine is that it exists within a kind of 
shell. The shell encases a 
fluid medium, and the entity, which is non-corporeal, seems to permeate the 
fluid. This is what it looks 
like." At this Q caused a smooth, gray object, in form like a rounded oval, to 
materialize above the 
conference table. "I can't tell you what it's composed of, since the substance 
is unknown in this galaxy, 
but it's structurally similar to neutronium." 


"That's going to be a tough nut to crack," remarked La Forge. 


"Yes," agreed Q, "and the entity can further assure its own safety by 
brainwashing whoever it 
encounters into surrendering." 


"You say it exists in some kind of fluid?" asked La Forge. 


"Yes," said Q. "I'm just speculating here, but I imagine that it was originally 
some kind of underwater 
life-form that evolved into the non-corporeal being that it is now, and that 
whatever it is composed of 
requires a fluid medium to sustain it." 


"Does it have a power source?" asked Riker. 


"Yes, itself. Or its mind actually. I don't know if I can make a distinction; 
all it is is a mind." 


"Can we communicate with it in any way?" asked Picard. 


"Sure. It can read minds as well as take them over, but Federation-style 
diplomacy is not going to work 
on this thing, Captain. We can ask it politely if it will be so good as to 
return whence it came, but by the 
time you complete the request, your mind isn't going to be your own any more. I 
can try to talk to it, 
but this being is so utterly alien to us that I can't see any basis for 
communication. Before the 
explorers encountered this entity, they discovered entire populations murdered . 
. . by each other. That 
could very well be the work of this creature." 


Guinan spoke up. "I got a really bad feeling from that thing when Q and I first 
sensed it. Captain, if we 
don't destroy it, it's going to destroy us, and it won't be pretty." 


"So what do you propose?" snapped Picard. "This is a life-form from outside the 
galaxy. We can't 
simply go in and destroy it without trying to make contact." 


"No, and it's a moot point anyway, Captain," interjected Q. "Because by the time 
you got close enough 
to fire your phasers, you would have all surrendered the ship anyway. Listen, 
this is the last thing I 
ever thought I'd admit in front of all of you, but I'm scared. Do you hear what 
I'm saying? *I'm* scared 
of this thing." 


If the gravity of the situation hadn't sunk in before, it had now. Everyone 
around the conference table 
fell silent. Q turned to Picard and spoke mentally, //I need to talk to you 
alone, now.// Picard nodded. 
"Conference adjourned for now." 


Data spoke up. "Q, if you could provide us with the composition of the entity's 
shell, Geordi and I can 
begin work on modifying our weapons systems. Then they will ready if we come up 
with a plan to 
circumvent the entity's telepathic powers." 


"Sure, it can't hurt." Q picked up a padd, glanced at it briefly, then handed it 
to Data. "Everything I 
know about it is on here. Good luck." 


As the staff dispersed, Q and Picard headed for the Captain's ready room. "I 
know what you're going to 
tell me," said Picard as the doors slid shut. "You're planning on going out 
there and trying to handle this 
yourself . . . " 


"Precisely. If I get close enough to overcome whatever it's blocking me with, I 
may have a shred of a 
chance of either communicating with or overcoming this thing. You don't. It's 
too dangerous for you and 
the crew. But if I don't have all of you to worry about, I can at least 
concentrate on trying to defeat it, 
or reason with it, or something." Q stepped up to Picard and took his hands. 
"And I want you to stay 
here, where you're safe for the time being. . ." 


Picard interrupted, "Q, I can't let you do this." 


"Yes you can," said Q softly, pressing the Captain's hands harder. "You can't 
stop me, and you know 
that my existence is not worth the sacrifice of every life on this ship, even if 
there was anything you 
could do. I'll tell you what. If you come up with a feasible plan, feel free to 
join me. Otherwise, I want 
you to stay safe, understand?" 


Picard whispered, "Q . . . I . . . ," and his voice trailed off. 


Q smiled, leaned forward suddenly and kissed Picard hard on the lips, then said, 
"Je t'aime, mon 
Capitaine," and vanished with a grin and a wink. Picard sighed and raised his 
eyebrows but couldn't help 
smiling to himself. 


He then straightened his shoulders, adjusted his uniform, and strode out to the 
bridge, demanding, "Mr. 
Data, how long is it going to take us to get back to where we encountered the 
entity?" 


"We are two days' away from our previous coordinates, assuming maximum warp." 


"Two days!" exclaimed Picard, "Damn him!" He then regained his composure, 
saying, "Plot a course 
back to our previous coordinates. In the meantime we need to come up with a 
plan." Picard sat back in 
the Captain's chair, lost in thought. He had an intuition that Q was going to be 
needing his help, but he 
had no idea how to provide it without risking his entire crew. 


* * * 


For all of his good intentions, Q did not have a plan. He had never faced 
anything so exponentially more 
powerful than himself, and his principal motivation was keeping Picard and the 
Enterprise's crew safe. 
Q was a creature of impulse, and despite all of knowledge and experience, he was 
hardly a master 
strategist. His experience had been with dominating *less*-powerful species; 
being in the position of 
the underdog was almost entirely new to him, except for the humiliating 
helplessness he had felt during 
his temporary demotion to human status. Even though Augusta had temporarily put 
him out of 
commission, he knew all along (as did she) that he would eventually gain the the 
upper hand and without 
too much difficulty. But now he was really out of his league. If he'd had more 
sense and less pride, he 
could have summoned the collective power of the Continuum, but it simply didn't 
occur to him. He 
viewed himself as an utterly self-sufficient being, and the idea of running home 
for help because there 
was an incredibly mean bully on the schoolyard wouldn't have entered his mind. 
As far as he was 
concerned, he was on his own. 


Q approached the entity warily. It had remained where it was before, although Q 
noted that it had 
managed to eliminate the forcefield he had thrown around it. It seemed confident 
that its intended prey 
would return and simply waited. Q materialized on a convenient asteroid. He 
began probing the entity's 
mind as unobtrusively as he could and was relieved that he was able to get a 
little more information. 
What he didn't figure out, however, was why. The entity was unbelievably 
powerful within the limits of 
its telepathic range. It had never yet met a victim it couldn't brainwash. It 
was not physically 
invulnerable, however, despite the density of its shell. While Q was at a 
distance, it had surrounded 
itself with psychic energy barriers that Q's mind couldn't penetrate beyond the 
most superficial level. 
Now that Q was within its range, it didn't bother with such defenses; any 
adversary close enough to 
brainwash posed no threat. Not even Q. As Q probed the entity's mind, at least 
the parts of it he could 
access, what he discovered terrified him; not only was it an incredibly powerful 
mind, but it was an 
incredibly powerful one-track mind. The entity's mental energy was almost 
entirely focused on finding 
victims to amuse itself with. Once it had tired of its most recent victims and 
watched them kill each 
other off in a variety of horrendous ways, it would move on, hunting for more. 
Right now the mind was 
alerted; here was a victim that would be slightly more challenging than most. Q 
was horrified; for a 
moment he felt as though he were looking at himself in a mirror that both 
distorted and enlarged. Q did 
not kill for amusement, but he realized that this creature's motivations for 
what it did were very little 
different from his own. The boredom, self-centeredness, and frustrated 
restlessness that he sensed 
seemed terribly familiar, and the thought sickened him. 


Constructive as this flash of self-knowledge was, it did not serve him well now. 
He needed to 
concentrate on the problem at hand. Suddenly, from the inmost recesses of his 
mind, Q sensed a 
powerful impulse to fetch the Enterprise back to this location. The impulse was 
inexplicable, but it felt 
like an irresistable compulsion. Q's mind was multi-layered and infinitely 
complex; while he sensed the 
impulse to retrieve the Enterprise, the equivalent of his conscious mind was 
thinking that this didn't 
make any sense at all. After a few moments of internal debate, he realized what 
was happening. Furious 
at being tampered with, Q tried to launch a bolt of energy to destroy the 
creature. His action was halted 
almost as soon as he had conceived it; he had never felt such a sensation 
before, but it was as if the 
portion of his mind that could manipulate matter and space and time was 
paralyzed. Q had hardly time to 
process his sensation, when his mind was overcome by a blinding, pulsating light 
and waves and waves 
of pain, the likes of which he had never imagined. The entity was taking 
advantage of Q's assumed 
human form, and Q felt as though every nerve ending was on fire. But the pain 
inside his mind was even 
more intense, searing through every layer of his consciousness. The torture 
lasted about a minute, then 
stopped. Q immediately intuited that this was a punishment for his attempted 
attack. Although he was 
both shaken and weakened, he mustered his energy and pulled himself together. 
//Well, back to the 
drawing board//, he managed to think to himself. 


His conscious mind managed to form the query, //I don't suppose there's any 
chance of you deciding to 
just bypass this galaxy and leave its inhabitants alone, is there?// The reply 
was instantaneous; long 
peals of mocking laughter emanated from the alien entity's mind. //No, I didn't 
think so, but I thought 
I'd ask. So much for diplomacy//, concluded Q. The impulse to bring back the 
Enterprise had returned 
stronger than ever. Q tried every telepathic block he could think of, every 
possible way he had 
previously devised to keep his fellow Qs from intruding on his privacy, but it 
was to no avail. He felt 
more and more strongly that if he didn't retrieve the ship that he would lose 
his sanity. Still he tried to 
resist, furious at his helplessness. He was frozen, immobile, and the only thing 
he knew with any 
certainty was that he would be released only to fetch back the Enterprise. A 
portion of Q's mind still 
remained to him, and he was determined not to give in. He channeled all the 
mental energy he had 
remain into erecting blocks, but he felt more and more of his mind being 
encroached upon, and he was 
too rattled to concentrate. He couldn't understand how *his* mind had been 
invaded so completely. At 
the same time, the blinding light and the pain returned, increasing 
exponentially as Q continued to 
resist. He felt dizzy and nauseous, as daggers of pain stabbed deep into every 
layer of his 
consciousness. The alien being was losing its patience. Q's immensely powerful 
mind was no match for 
his enemy; he felt his mental shields slipping. Soon he was conscious of only 
two things: the sensation 
of impossible, unendurable pain and the conviction that if he retrieved the 
Enterprise, the pain would 
stop. He could no longer remember why he was trying so hard to resist. 


* * * 


On board the Enterprise, Picard was trying to calm himself enough to think 
clearly. He sat in the 
Captain's chair, gazing at the viewscreen, frenetically coming up with absurd 
plans and instantly 
dismissing them. His one consolation was that he still felt the comfortable 
sensation of his link with Q in 
his mind. Suddenly he sat up. Within that portion of his mind allotted to the 
connection with Q, there was 
a wavering, an indefinable shift in the sensation that had become so familiar. 
//What? What is it?// he 
demanded to himself. The wavering sensation continued; Picard felt as though his 
link with Q was 
slipping away from him. He mentally called out //Q? Q?? Q!!!// For an instant 
the link ceased to 
waver. Within his mind Picard heard an anguished but defiant howl, //*NO!!!!!*// 
then a whisper, 
//Jean-Luc?// then . . . nothing. Nothing at all. The link was snapped, and 
Picard felt utterly alone. 


* * * 


Picard's voice calling Q had come just in time. It was enough to remind what 
shred of his identity had 
not been taken over why he should resist. Q was overpowered, however, and he had 
only one defense 
mechanism remaining. Mustering all of his determination and taking strength from 
his summons from 
Picard, Q mentally exclaimed //*NO!!!!!*// and broke his mind away from the 
alien entity. As 
blackness overcame him and he collapsed, from the very core of his being emerged 
a whisper, //Jean-
Luc?// then darkness and silence were his universe. An impenetrable darkness, an 
impenetrable silence 
enveloped him; he couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't move. The darkness and 
silence suffused every 
layer of his mind except for a pinprick of consciousness, an atom of light in 
the darkness. That atom of 
consciousness barely remembered who or what he was; the overwhelming sensation 
was darkness and 
silence. 


* * * 


Picard collapsed back in his chair, pale and stricken. Riker and Deanna were 
immediately bending over 
him. "Captain?" asked Deanna. Picard weakly raised one hand to motion them to 
back off a bit. He had to 
take a moment to process the realization that burst upon him with a stark 
clarity, the realization of 
how utterly essential Q was to him. He had gotten so used to the sensation of 
Q's presence in his mind 
that he had begun to take it for granted. With the connection snapped, he felt 
cut off from a part of his 
own self. As if penetrating through a thick haze, Deanna's voice began to 
register on his consciousness, 
"Captain, can you hear me? Are you all right?" 


He opened his eyes and murmured, "It's Q. Something happened." At this moment 
the turbolift doors slid 
open, and Beverly Crusher rushed onto the bridge. Picard hadn't heard Riker 
summoning her when he 
first collapsed. //Pull yourself together//, he thought to himself, //Q needs 
you, and the ship needs 
you. PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! Or as Q would have it, GET A GRIP!// 


Picard sat up in his chair, his hands firmly grasping the arm rests. "I'm all 
right, Beverly. I just had a 
bit of a shock." The others looked at him questioningly. "Ever since Q has been 
on board, he has 
maintained a kind of telepathic link with my mind. I can't exactly describe the 
sensation, but over time 
I've gotten more and more conscious of it. For instance, I always just seem to 
know where he is. Well, 
something happened to him out there, and . . ." his voice faltered a moment and 
Crusher put her hand on 
his shoulder, "I don't sense him now. Something's seriously wrong." Crusher 
still looked concerned. 
"There's nothing wrong with me physically, Doctor," said Picard with a weak 
smile, reaching up to 
grasp her hand for a moment. He sat up straighter, went through the quick ritual 
of straightening his 
shoulders and uniform, then stood up, saying in a firm voice, "Mr. Data, 
continue on course. Number 
One, you have the bridge. I need to think." Then he strode toward his ready 
room. 


"Are you sure he's all right?" Riker asked Deanna. 


"Yes, he was utterly terrified for a moment there, but now he's just 
determined." 


* * * 


Buried under layers and layers of impenetrable darkness and silence, a small 
core of Q's mind was 
trying to make sense of his situation. He couldn't move or hear or see, but he 
could think to himself, 
albeit incoherently. He knew there was something he was trying to grasp onto, to 
remember, some 
reason he didn't want to just let the darkness wash over him completely. There 
was some reason to 
keep holding it at bay. It was a name, that was it. //A name, a name. Somebody's 
name. Very 
important. Q! That's it! Q! No, idiot, that's my name. There's somebody else, 
somebody who can help me 
out of here.// The realization finally came to him, //Jean-Luc! Need Jean-Luc. 
Oh, damn it! I was 
supposed to be helping *him*.// This much thinking was wearing him out, and Q's 
essence, his very 
innermost mind, fell silent. Hours, maybe days later, he had recovered a 
complete memory of the 
events leading up to his blacking out, but he remained deaf, blind, and 
paralyzed. He figured the entity 
had given him up for dead, which was just as well. Occasionally, just to prove 
to himself that he wasn't 
dead, that inner core of consciousness would try to emerge, to push the layers 
of darkness and silence 
away. But every effort made the darkness and silence close in even more. 
Finally, he gave up and 
decided to wait. He knew what he was waiting for, and that was enough. He was 
waiting for Jean-Luc. 


* * * 


After a couple of hours, Picard walked out of his ready room. The signs of his 
earlier terror and 
weakness had evaporated. He was icily determined. "Conference, five minutes," he 
ordered, then went 
to the observation lounge to await his senior officers. When they had all 
gathered, he spoke. 


"Mr. Data, I want the Enterprise to stop and hold position 6 billion kilometers 
away from the last known 
location of the entity. Mr. La Forge, I want you to modify a Type 6 shuttlecraft 
with as much phaser 
power as you can give me. I want a narrow beam preprogrammed to have maximum 
effect on a 
neutronium-like substance. In fact, I want as much of the firing sequence and 
targeting as possible to be 
programmed into the shuttle's computers." 


"Yes, sir. You've got it." 


"Captain," said Riker warily, you're not planning on going out there . . . " 


"Yes, I am, Number One. And you are going to stay at the coordinates I've 
specified and keep this crew 
safe. Those are your orders." 


"Captain . . ." 


"Don't 'Captain' me, Number One. And if you try to follow me, if you order this 
ship any closer to that 
entity, against my orders, I will personally court-martial your tail into a desk 
job so fast you won't 
know what hit you. And if you sense any change in the behavior of the crew, or 
if Guinan has any sense 
of that creature returning, I want you to get this ship to safety. Understood?" 


"Yes, sir, but, with all due respect, what makes you think you're going to be 
able to withstand the 
entity's telepathic powers? It overwhelmed *Q*." 


Picard's eyes and voice were equally steely. "I'll tell you, Number One. I've 
had my mind raped too 
many times, first by the Borg, and second by Gul Madred." He spoke slowly and 
deliberately, 
emphasizing each word: "*I'm not going to let that happen again.*" He continued, 
more calmly, "Q may 
be omnipotent, but he hasn't had my experiences. He's never faced anything more 
powerful than 
himself. I have, and this time my mind is going to remain my own. I don't know 
how I know that, but I 
do." 


"Captain, are you planning on going alone?" asked Troi, alarmed. 


"No, I'm not." He turned to Data, his voice suddenly gentler. "Mr. Data, what 
I'm about to ask of you is 
repugnant to me, and this is by no means an order. You may refuse this 
assignment." 


"What is it, Captain?" asked the android. 


Picard paused and sighed. "I would like Geordi to disable as much of your more 
'human' programming as 
possible, to block the pathways in your positronic brain that you have developed 
over the past several 
years. Essentially, I'm asking you to allow yourself to be programmed to be as 
machine-like as possible 
. . . I'm sorry, Mr. Data, it pains me to ask this of you, and I mean you no 
disrespect . . . but I believe 
this may render you less vulnerable to the entity's telepathic abilities. If I 
do succumb to it, you will 
have irrevocable orders programmed into you to destroy it, no matter what I may 
try to order you to 
do under its influence. In fact, I would like to have you programmed to disable 
*me* if necessary if I 
try to stop you." 


"Understood, Captain. I accept the mission." 


"Data," said Picard, "You might want to take some time to think about this. I'm 
very uncomfortable 
about asking you to allow yourself to be dehumanized like this." 


The rest of the table was silent, almost holding their breaths. Data looked 
right at Picard, "Captain, my 
duty is to protect the lives of my crewmates. I will fulfill that duty even if 
the means are distasteful. It 
should not be difficult for me to determine which parts of my programming need 
to be disabled and to 
map out for Geordi what he will need to do to restore them. And, Captain, you 
have to realize that I 
consider Q to be my friend. He needs help, and I am more than willing to provide 
it." 


Picard was moved. He blinked a few times and pressed his lips together. "Mr. 
Data," he said quietly, 
"you're one of the finest persons I know." He looked around the table, then said 
sharply, "Adjourned." 


* * * 


How much time had passed? Q had no way of knowing. He knew that he was beginning 
to feel 
excruciatingly bored, but he was afraid to press against the edges of the 
darkness and silence; he didn't 
want to make things worse. He was also beginning to feel unbearably lonely, a 
sense of desolation that 
was compounded by his utter helplessness. The being who had the capacity to 
rearrange the spatial and 
temporal structure of the universe could not open his eyes or lift a finger. The 
remnant of mental 
energy he had remaining could only keep the darkness and silence from pressing 
even closer, but he was 
utterly incapable of directing any mental energy outside of the one inner recess 
of his mind that was 
conscious. 


* * * 


While Geordi worked on the shuttlecraft, Picard went to talk to Guinan. "Is 
there anything you can tell 
me that might help?" he asked. 


"I know as much about this creature as you do, Captain. There *is* something, 
though . . ." 


"What?" 


"When it first began taking over our minds, we were all completely unaware that 
anything was 
happening. The lapse in alertness and lethargy I was feeling didn't seem 
unnatural at all. Quite the 
opposite. See, if Q were brainwash you, say, into falling in love with him, you 
might readily act 
precisely as he wanted you to. You would give up your position or do anything he 
saw fit. But it 
wouldn't *feel* right; enough of your subconscious mind would remain yours, and 
there would always 
be a part of you that would try to resist, just as you did when you were almost 
assimilated by the 
Borg. Jean-Luc Picard was still in there. This creature's methods seem much more 
refined, however, 
and that is why I find it so terrifying. The entity does not appear to take over 
minds from without, but 
rather, it seems to be able to disguise its influence as something arising from 
within your own 
subconscious mind. It's not an external threat you have to resist, but an 
internal one." 


"I understand, I think. Thank-you, Guinan. I think it will help me." 


"My pleasure, Captain. And Captain?" 


"Yes." 


"I'm terribly worried about Q. I actually miss the rascal." 


"I know. I'm going to find him, you can count on it. Whether we can help him or 
not remains to be seen, 
but I'm going to find out what happened to him." 


* * * 


La Forge had completed the modifications to the shuttlecraft and, reluctantly, 
was beginning to make 
the necessary alterations to Data's programming. Picard forced himself to be 
present, but he felt 
sickened that he had asked this of one of his officers, a person, damn it, that 
he considered a friend. 
Beverly sensed Picard's discomfort and walked over to stand next to him, as 
Geordi neatly peeled back 
portions of Data's scalp to reveal the circuitry underneath. Picard winced 
slightly. "I'm sorry, Mr. 
Data, but I never get used to that." 


The Doctor took Picard's hand, and he held it tight in return, as Data calmly 
replied, "Your reaction 
does not offend me, Captain. You would not wish to witness the Doctor performing 
brain surgery on a 
human either. I do not share human squeamishness, but it does not bother me." 
Picard nodded. 


As Geordi deftly executed the modifications that Data had mapped out for him, 
the android began to look 
less human, more robotic. Data had taught himself to imitate a variety of human 
behaviors, such as 
blinking, in order to fit in better among the crew, and his features had 
developed more mobility and his 
voice more expression over the years he had served on board the Enterprise. Now 
his face grew more 
rigid and his voice more monotonous. He sat completely still, not making any 
unnecessary motions. 
//Merde!// thought Picard to himself, //If a machine like Data can develop 
sentience and human 
values, why are there so many thoroughly evil forces out there? This entity 
makes Q, even at our first 
encounter, a boy scout by comparison. We can explore all we want, increase our 
technological abilities 
all we want, even develop our ethical capacities and our tolerance for 
differences all we want, but 
there will always be threats out there that will force us to come down to their 
level, to meet violence 
with violence. All our progress and sophistication has not given us an ability 
to reach an understanding 
with them. We simply have to answer their savagery with savagery of our own.// 


"What are you musing about?" asked Beverly, still holding Picard's hand. 


"Oh, the nature of evil, cheerful subjects like that. Here's this life-form, 
from outside the galaxy no 
less, and I have to go out there and try to destroy it so it doesn't destroy us. 
I have to try to blow it to 
pieces so it doesn't take over our minds and get us to tear each other to 
pieces. It's times like these 
that make me rather discouraged about the nature of progress." 


"There's a lot of good out there too, even in unexpected places. Look at Q. 
After all the suffering he 
caused for centuries, he opposed his own species to give humankind a chance. He 
changed. And he 
changed by virtue of his contact with you, Jean-Luc. If all we were doing out 
here was defending 
ourselves against violent threats, then I would feel discouraged. But we, you in 
particular, have done a 
lot of good." 


Picard thought with a sudden pang, //But I almost committed an act as evil as 
any I've ever witnessed. 
God help me, but Q is right--we do have a long way to go. I only hope I have the 
opportunity to concede 
that point to him.// He nodded at Beverly and smiled wanly. 


Then Riker's voice came over his comm badge, "Riker to Captain Picard. We have 
reached the 
coordinates you specified." 


"Acknowledged," replied Picard, "Full stop." 


"I'm done, Captain," said Geordi. "Try to get him back in one piece; it'll be a 
lot easier to restore him to 
his old self." 


"Have you programmed the necessary orders regarding destroying the entity? That 
is, to override 
anything I might say or do once we're in the shuttle." 


"I've taken care of it, Captain. Data will execute his orders; he doesn't have 
much decision-making 
capacity left to question them." 


Picard sighed heavily. "Thank you, Mr. La Forge. I appreciate your cooperation 
with such a distasteful 
task. I hope you will be able to reverse it as soon as possible. Mr. Data, meet 
me in the main shuttlebay 
in ten minutes." 


"Yes, Captain," replied Data in an unnatural, almost robotic tone. 


Picard cringed slightly when Data and La Forge walked out of Sick Bay. Data's 
movements were stiff 
and angular. He had the capacity to mimic human movements, but he did not have 
any motivation to do 
so. Picard turned to Beverly, smiling. "Well, Doctor, I have a mission to 
fulfill. I'd best get started on 
it." He took both her hands and pressed them lightly. 


Beverly was about to turn away, then she whispered, trying to keep the fear out 
of her voice, "Jean-
Luc, tell me you're going to come back safely." 


"I'm going to do whatever it takes, OK?" They embraced, Beverly blinking tears 
out of her eyes; then 
Picard marched out of Sick Bay. He paused briefly at his quarters, stopping to 
take out the flower Q had 
given him from their hiking expedition. He watched it for a moment, turning it 
over in his hand, allowing 
himself a brief pang of terror for Q, which he then shoved back into the back of 
his mind, as he replaced 
the flower in its drawer. The loss of the connection between them continued to 
wrench him even if he 
wasn't showing it. There was the continuous sense of low-level panic in the back 
of his mind, the kind 
one feels after experiencing a tremendous loss, the fear that one cannot 
continue to function without 
whatever or whoever it was. It was a feeling that could have quickly overwhelmed 
him, but Picard was 
nothing if not disciplined. Allowing himself to experience a certain degree of 
fear was good; the tension 
would keep him at a high pitch of alertness. But otherwise this particular panic 
had to be mostly 
repressed, and replaced by grim resolution. It was time to turn from his fears 
for Q to his mission. 
Until the entity was eliminated, Q's safety had to be a secondary concern. 


This was a principal difference between Q and Picard's tactics and goals. Q 
hadn't been thinking about 
his own safety or that of the rest of the galaxy, for that matter; he had simply 
impulsively concluded it 
was his job to protect Picard and his crew. His fear of what the entity could do 
to his proteg* and his 
usual emotional volatility did *not* leave him in the optimum condition to face 
such an overwhelming 
telepathic threat. Picard, however, had a good deal of experience in controlling 
his emotions and in 
putting personal considerations in the back of his mind, so he could concentrate 
on the task at hand. He 
had never entirely forgiven himself for not having had the strength to resist 
the Borg, and the 
recollection of his experience under Cardassian torture never flashed on his 
mind without a searing 
wave of nausea and shame passing through him. Here was a chance for redemption, 
and he intended to 
make the most of it. He was almost grateful, in a slightly perverse way, to have 
to act without Q's 
assistance, although he would certainly have wished for different circumstances 
as the cause of Q's 
absence. 


When he got to the main shuttlebay, La Forge, Riker, and Guinan were waiting. 
Geordi entered the 
shuttlecraft and went over the controls for the modified weapons with Picard. 
"You won't be able to 
sustain fire for very long, Captain; the shuttle just doesn't have enough power. 
I've preprogrammed a 
very narrow, focused beam. If you can just crack that thing's shell, it should 
lose fluid rather quickly, 
and if we're lucky, that should do the trick. I also used the information Q gave 
us to recalibrate the 
sensors. You should be able to detect the entity's shell." 


"Thank you, Mr. La Forge." 


"Good luck, Captain." 


Geordi paused to say good luck to Data, who merely looked puzzled and remarked, 
"If you wish me to 
calculate the statistical probability for success of this mission . . ." 


"No, I don't," said Picard hastily. "Let's get going." Guinan went up to him and 
quickly pressed his hand, 
and Riker also wished him luck. "I imagine I'll need it," remarked Picard drily 
as he and Data entered 
the shuttlecraft. 


As the others left the shuttlebay, Riker turned to Guinan. "Guinan, if you sense 
anything of that entity 
approaching, I want you to let me know immediately, so I can get us out of 
here." 


"Will do, Commander. At least now I know what I'm looking for." 
  


Chapter 15 


Data and Picard rode along in silence. Data no longer had his usual inclination 
to converse, and Picard 
was grimly lost in thought. 


"Mr. Data," said Picard as they approached closer to their destination, "if you 
feel your mind being 
influenced in any way, or if I do anything to prevent you from firing, I want 
you to fire on the entity 
immediately when we get within range. If possible, I would like to find out what 
I can about it, first, but 
I don't want to take any chances." 


"Acknowledged, Captain." 


As they approached, but long before they were within the shuttle's firing range, 
Picard began to began 
to feel an urgent compulsion to summons the Enterprise and to surrender the 
shuttle. The entity was 
impatient for more prey and was in no mood for delicacy and discretion. Instead 
it immediately 
assaulted Picard with its demands as soon as the shuttle was within its 
telepathic range. It felt to 
Picard as if he had received a sudden inspiration, an irrestistable brainstorm, 
and it was an idea that 
had to be acted on immediately. But he was prepared and instantly recognized 
what was happening. He 
remembered what Guinan had said and tried to forget the entity altogether. 
Instead, he struggled to 
regain control of his own subconscious mind, to impose discipline upon its 
wayward impulses. The 
pressure to surrender grew stronger, however; he was feeling more and more 
convinced that 
everything would just be all right if he surrendered the shuttle and ordered the 
Enterprise to this 
location. He noticed, to his relief, that Data seemed unaffected. Picard was 
glad to have Data as a 
backup, but he was so utterly furious at this violation of his mind that he was 
determined to take out 
this enemy himself. 


"How . . . long . . . before . . . we . . . get . . . within . . . firing . . . 
range?" Picard managed, barely, to 
ask. He couldn't afford to take too much attention away from the wrestling match 
within his own mind. 


"Six minutes, 47 seconds, sir." 


"Damn!" 


Data turned to look at Picard. "Are you in need of assistance, sir?" 


"No . . . not . . . yet." Picard then fell silent. He had work to do. He kept 
reminding himself what Q had 
told him one night in his quarters, and he repeated it to himself like a mantra, 
//The mind is 
everything. The mind is everything. The mind is everything.// The mantra 
temporarily succeeded. 
Picard blocked out all thoughts of the entity and of his fury at this mental 
rape. Instead he concentrated 
entirely on forcing down the impulses arising from his subconscious. As the 
seconds ticked agonizingly 
by, Picard was achieving a level of mental discipline he couldn't have imagined 
himself possessing. He 
believed with utter conviction that the mind *was* everything, and he could do 
whatever he wanted. 
As the pressure to surrender increased from within his inner mind, Picard 
increased the pressure his 
conscious mind was exerting in return. He imagined a set of wide doors, like 
those of the shuttlebay, 
slowly closing, cutting off the part of his mind that had turned against him. It 
wasn't easy, however. 
His subconscious mind had been taken over and fiercely resisted Picard's 
conscious effort to cut it off. 
Picard's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaws were locked together, his hands were 
ferociously gripping 
the arms of his seat, and every muscle in his back and shoulders was ridged and 
knotted from the 
stress. The struggle was intense, but Picard had mustered an awesome level of 
concentration. With a 
huge effort he pushed those mental doors shut, and his mind was his own again. 


The entity paused. It had never encountered this kind of resistance; its victims 
had never before 
figured out in time that it was their own minds they had to resist, not an 
external threat. The entity 
was so skilled at disguising its telepathic control as an irresistable 
subconscious impulse, that it could 
not have imagined a victim with sufficient determination and discipline to 
resist. Never had its victims 
ever been so prepared before encountering it. Usually it overwhelmed its victims 
before they had any 
clue what was happening, but Q had recognized the threat in time to allow the 
Enterprise to escape. 
Victims such as Q might pose more of a challenge, but they could be controlled 
with pain if they did not 
immediately submit to the entity's telepathic influence. 


"Dropping out of warp, now," reported Data. "We will be within firing range in 
thirty seconds." 
But as soon as the shuttle dropped out of warp, it began rocking violently. 


"What the hell?" demanded 
Picard. 


"The entity is emitting an invisible energy pulse," replied Data as his hands, 
with lightning speed, 
continuously adjusted the controls. "It apparently has telekinetic powers as 
well as telepathic ones." 


"Wonderful, just wonderful," muttered Picard as the shuttle continued to shudder 
and lurch. 


"I do not see what could be considered wonderful . . ." 


"I'm sorry, Mr. Data. Just a figure of speech." 


"We are now within firing range, Sir. I believe I can stabilize the shuttle long 
enough to permit accurate 
firing." 


Picard was exhausted, and his head was throbbing. "I'd appreciate that. On 
screen, Mr. Data." The 
entity appeared, hovering before them. 


"Phasers are locked on, sir," noted Data. 


"If you would be so kind as to allow me to do the honors, Mr. Data," said Picard 
and fired. The beam 
washed right over the entity's shell. While the shuttle rocked again from a 
massive energy pulse, 
Data's hands were a blur over the controls, his eyes flickering at an unnatural 
and inhuman rate. A 
moment later Picard felt his head explode with a searing, blinding, excruciating 
pain. This was too 
much, really. His mind flashed back, as it often did in moments of absolute 
physical exhaustion or pain, 
to the Starfleet Academy marathon he had won as a freshman. Was it around 32, 33 
kilometers when he 
felt as though he had hit the wall? His lungs were exploding, and his legs 
somehow were attached to 
invisible lead weights. It certainly would not have been humiliating to lose. No 
freshman had ever won. 
But Picard had made up his mind. He managed to break through his pain and 
exhaustion, and with a burst 
of determination, he passed the upper-classmen in front of him on the final hill 
and sailed into the finish 
line. He tried to convince himself that the torture the entity was inflicting on 
him was no different than 
that he had experienced in the marathon. At the same time, he was utterly 
furious at being assaulted in 
this brutal and unconscionable fashion. 


"NO DAMN IT!" exclaimed Picard, "MY MIND IS MY OWN!" He slammed his mental doors 
on the pain 
much more quickly than he had been able to block the entity's earlier demands. 
The technique was 
wonderfully effective; he only wished he had figured it out before his encounter 
with a Cardassian 
inquisitor, but he realized he probably could not have done so without having 
had that previous 
experience to motivate him and give him focus. Also, his extensive contact with 
Q's mind had increased 
his mental capabilities as well. Once he became aware of the link with Q in his 
mind, Picard had become 
more adept at understanding and recognizing the interactions between different 
parts of his mind and 
controlling them. 


"Sir," said Data tonelessly. "The entity's shell is thinner at the rounded part 
of the oval. The phasers 
may be more effective there." 


"Much obliged, Mr. Data." Picard directed Data to pilot the shuttlecraft to a 
point directly over the 
entity, and Data's hands flew over the controls as he continuously adjusted the 
thrusters to stabilize 
the shuttle. Picard felt a wave of pain battering his mental doors, but he 
refused to succumb to it, 
noting with relief that Data remained unaffected. Picard was a study in 
unrelenting, concentrated fury, 
and he punched the controls with more than usual force to fire the phasers. The 
thin beam shot out from 
the shuttle's phaser emitters. At first it had no effect, washing over the 
smooth shell as it had before. 
Picard's eyes narrowed, his face a mask of concentration, as if he was trying to 
lend power to the 
phasers with his mind. He envisioned the pencil-thin beam drilling through the 
shell, forcing open a 
jagged crack, and then an explosion as the entity's fluid medium boiled out into 
space. Later, looking 
back, he would be shocked at his own cruelty, but he wanted to witness this 
being's suffering. With a 
kind of grim, sadistic glee, Picard watched events unfold just as he had 
imagined. As the fluid began 
boiling out of the cracked shell, the entire shell exploded. Picard cautiously 
relaxed the mental control 
he had been exerting on his subconscious mind, and he felt an overwhelming 
sensation of terror and 
surprise which was just as quickly extinguished as the entity expired, its 
sustaining fluid medium 
dispersed into the vacuum of space. 


"Commendable firing, sir," remarked the android in the same numb tone. 


"Thank you, Mr. Data," said Picard as he slumped back in his chair. He felt 
utterly drained, but he 
couldn't relax yet. "We have another job to do. Is there any way we can 
recalibrate our sensors to look 
for Q?" 


"He does not give off life signs," replied Data. "I take it that you still do 
not sense any contact with 
him." 


"No," said Picard, shaking his head wearily. "Nothing." 


"I am plotting a search pattern now, but our sensors will not have an effect. 
Can you recall precisely 
when you began to feel the entity's influence? That will provide more precise 
parameters for my 
search." 


"It was a few minutes before I asked you how far we were until we reached firing 
range." 


"Search pattern programmed, sir." 


"Engage." 


The shuttle began following the course Data had programmed. Picard had recovered 
his alertness; one 
mission having been accomplished, he allowed the search for Q to assume the full 
urgency he felt. He 
strained his eyes gazing out of the shuttle's windows, but he couldn't see 
anything that would indicate 
to him Q's location. //Now I wish he'd kept wearing a Starfleet uniform//, 
thought Picard to himself, 
//then at least he'd have a communicator.// The idea of assigning a communicator 
to a visiting 
omnipotent being seemed absurd on the surface; Picard was sure Q had never 
imagined that he would be 
needing Picard to come to *his* rescue. 


After a little more than two hours Data announced, "Sensors are detecting a 
large object, most likely 
an asteroid, ahead." 


"On screen, Mr. Data." 


Before them hung a ball of rock, approximately three miles in diameter. "Take us 
there," demanded 
Picard. Data piloted the shuttle into orbit around the asteroid. "There!" 
exclaimed Picard. Lying on the 
surface of the asteroid, face down and motionless, was Q. Data expertly landed 
the shuttle near Q's 
immobile form, while Picard pulled out the EVA garments that would be necessary 
on the airless, 
gravity-less asteroid. He and Data rapidly suited up, then exited the shuttle's 
hatch. Picard rolled Q's 
body over. There was no response. He called, "Q? Q? It's Jean-Luc." Still no 
response. Picard turned to 
Data, "Let's get him out of here." Data hoisted Q's limp form effortlessly, and 
they returned to shuttle. 
Picard was in a hurry, only bothering to yank off his helmet before lifting the 
shuttle off. Data 
examined Q with a tricorder, but could get no readings. That, in itself, was not 
unusual. Q's utter 
motionlessness was, however. After Data had removed the EVA suit, he took over 
the controls so 
Picard could remove his as well, and they rode in silence back to the 
Enterprise. 


(Buried under layers of darkness and silence, the small portion of consciousness 
remaining to Q was 
totally unaware of his rescue. He remained blind, deaf, and paralyzed, and he 
could not register the 
sensation of being lifted up and placed on board the shuttlecraft. He remained 
in his tiny private 
universe, waiting for some light or sound to penetrate through to him.) 


After the shuttle had returned to the ship and Q had been taken to sick bay, 
Picard demanded, "Beverly, 
is there anything you can do?" 


She was scanning her patient and shook her head slowly. "Jean-Luc, he's in human 
form, but I can't get 
any readings from him. I can't even begin to scan his neural activity; we have 
no instruments that can 
even begin to read what's going on in his brain. I don't think he's dead, 
whatever that means for his 
species, because I don't see how he could maintain a corporeal form if he were. 
I don't know if he even 
can be killed. All I can surmise is that he's suffered some sort of shock to his 
system and has shut 
himself down in some fashion." 


Picard was frustrated, and his anxiety was readily apparent. Beverly found 
herself torn between an 
objective concern for a patient and a mounting jealousy. She was realizing much 
more concretely than 
she ever had before how much Q meant to Picard. Battling down her jealous 
impulses, she said gently, 
"I'm sorry, Jean-Luc. There's nothing that I can do. Believe me, I would if I 
could." 


Picard smiled grimly, raised Beverly's hand to his lips, and said, "Beverly, I'm 
sorry. I certainly didn't 
anticipate this. I know I care for you deeply, in fact, I love you, and I don't 
understand exactly what I 
feel for him, but I have to take care of him right now. Somehow, in a way I 
don't entirely understand, 
he's become a part of me, an essential part. There's some kind of bond between 
us, and if nothing else, 
he's a friend who has more than earned any assistance I can render." He paused, 
then murmured, "I 
didn't realize until he was cut off from me just how terrified I am of losing 
him." 


"I know," said the doctor softly, "I know." They stood holding hands for a 
moment, and Beverly kissed 
Picard's forehead. "Go take care of your patient Jean-Luc. You can probably do 
more for him than I 
can." 


Picard then ordered, "I want him taken to my quarters." 


After the orderlies had carried Q's motionless body to Picard's quarters and 
deposited it on the bed, 
Picard sat down next to him, took one of Q's hands in his own and with his other 
hand gently stroked the 
entity's still forehead and hair. Picard closed his eyes trying to penetrate Q's 
mind; he could feel his 
own mind reaching out, but it was met by a wall of silence. //Damn it, Q! Can't 
you tell me what I'm 
supposed to do? I don't know how to handle this!// Picard then got the idea of 
trying to summon another 
Q, who would presumably know what to do. The Captain had not acquired telepathic 
powers that he could 
employ with anyone but Q, but he had begun to project in his silent 
conversations with Q; he was not 
simply passively receiving messages Q sent or responding in his own mind for Q 
to read. Although he 
was aware that he was beginning to be able to communicate with Q more actively, 
he didn't understand 
how the process worked and assumed that if he had attained any telepathic 
ability, it was simply by 
virtue of the ever-strengthening link between the two men. Picard had developed 
a continuous 
awareness of Q's presence within his mind; regardless of where the entity was, 
he still felt a 
connection between them. But not now. Q, although lying in front of him, was no 
longer inside his head; 
the connection was still severed, and Picard continued to feel an aching void, a 
palpable absence in that 
portion of his mind alotted to Q. 


He felt increasingly shaken, //I don't know how to do this. But I have to try.// 
Picard forced himself to 
be calm and concentrate. Summoning Q's colleague certainly couldn't be any 
harder than resisting the 
being he had recently defeated. He disengaged his hand from Q's, put his head in 
his hands and focused as 
clearly as he could on his visual memory of Q's colleague who had delivered the 
Continuum's response 
to Q's ultimatum. As he concentrated, Picard became aware that his mental image 
of the second Q was 
growing sharper and sharper. He poured all of his concentration into the 
message, //Q NEEDS YOUR 
HELP.// For several minutes, Picard sat absolutely still, eyes closed, head in 
hands, repeating the 
message, mantra-like, to the visual image of the second Q in his head. His 
concentration was suddenly 
broken by a burst of light. He looked up with relief as a male figure 
materialized in the room. 


"How did you do that Captain? I wasn't aware you were telepathic." 


"Neither was I. But fear focuses the mind very effectively. Can you do anything 
about him?" 


The newcomer turned his attention to Q. "What happened?" 


Picard filled him in on recent events. 


"Captain, I knew your species had some extraordinary potential, but you've 
certainly surpassed our 
expectations. Congratulations." 


"Well, I don't feel like celebrating at the moment," said Picard anxiously, 
"Normally, I can sense him . . 
. inside my mind, but there's nothing there. Can anything be done?" 


The newcomer went over to the bed, took both of Q's hands in his, and began 
probing deeply into Q's 
mind. After several moments, he spoke, "It's as I suspected. It's rare when we 
face a force more 
powerful than ourselves or a shock we can't handle. When it happens, however, we 
essentially expend 
every iota of mental energy we have in self-defense. I suspect he shut himself 
down to prevent the 
alien entity from gaining power over him. Basically, he's been completely 
drained. He's not capable for 
now of lifting a finger, he probably can't see or hear anything, and he doesn't 
have it in him to sustain 
his telepathic link with you. He's still in there, in a kind of stasis, and his 
mental energies have to 
regenerate. It's a slow process I'm afraid. All you can do for him is keep him 
still and quiet and keep 
trying to reestablish that connection with him. You're the one he's closest to, 
right?" Picard nodded, 
and the entity continued, "It's as if he's locked away under layers and layers 
of unconsciousness, 
something like what you would call a coma, except that there's nothing 
physically wrong. We don't 
sleep, and it's not a state we have much experience with, since it happens so 
rarely, and every Q who 
does experience it has to find his own way out. I would help him, of course, if 
I could, but you can do 
much more for him than I can. His mind will be attuned to recognizing you before 
anyone else. You just 
have to keep trying to reach out to him, or rather into him, and if you can 
establish a connection, you 
may be able to give him the boost of energy he needs to start his own 
regenerative process. If that 
happens his own mental energies, abilities, and powers will slowly start to be 
restored. Then, the 
difficult part will be to prevent him from exerting himself too much before he's 
ready and wearing 
himself out again. If he exerts himself too much, he could make things worse." 
The entity smiled wryly, 
"I imagine he would be a hell of a patient." 


Picard felt fear building throughout this exposition, noting worriedly, "It's 
not as though I have any 
experience using telepathy. Summoning you was a first for me." 


The second Q smiled again, remarking, "Well, Captain, you've shown a remarkable 
capacity for being a 
fast learner. Time to put that to work. Listen, Q has never been a really happy 
camper among the 
Continuum. I suspect if anything could give him a reason to live, *you*'re it. 
He needs you to give him a 
motivation to recover and to guide him back out." 


Picard swallowed hard, saying, "I certainly wish you were showing a little more 
conviction that he 
*is* going to recover. 


"I'm sorry, Captain. I wish I could, but in cases like this, we just don't know. 
It's a wonder that you 
were able to summon me at all, and it's even more of a wonder you survived your 
encounter with that 
creature, so it's very likely you have it in you to get through to him." The 
entity got up suddenly and 
began to pace, adding, "It's his damn desire for privacy. He's locked us all out 
ever since he came here; 
I could have helped him earlier if I'd known what was happening. But I think 
you're the only one who can 
help him now, Captain, and it's going to take a lot of effort and concentration. 
Good luck. Oh, by the 
way, would you like me to return you to Federation space?" 


"Yes, actually." 


"Consider it done. I'll check back in a couple of days." 


After the other Q had left, and the Enterprise went spinning back to a more 
familiar and hospitable 
portion of the quadrant, Picard summoned Riker, Troi, and Crusher through the 
comm link. When they 
entered his quarters, he announced, "I am going to have to devote my time to 
trying to get Q out of this 
state he's in. I am willingly relinquishing command for an indefinite period. 
Sometimes there are 
circumstances which take precededence over one's duties, and this is one of 
them. If anyone can revive 
him, apparently it's me, and I have no idea how long it will take. I'm sorry, 
Beverly, I really do 
understand how hard this is for you." Riker was surprised; Picard was not one to 
give up command for 
personal considerations, however serious, and Riker had not even begun to 
understand the depth of his 
Captain's feelings for Q. Troi, however, was not surprised; it had been clear to 
her for a while that 
Picard was gravitating more and more toward his omnipotent companion. She was 
relieved to see that 
Beverly also understood, even if she was both jealous and upset. As they left 
the room, Deanna asked 
Beverly if she wanted to talk, and the two women walked off together, leaving 
Riker on his own to try 
to grasp what he was just beginning to figure out. That Picard had become 
friends with Q was apparent 
to anyone, but Riker would not have imagined the intense emotional attachment 
Picard was exhibiting. 


Having cleared necessary business out of the way, Picard turned his attention to 
his patient. He settled 
himself on the bed, pulling his motionless companion partly onto his lap. With 
one hand he held one of Q's 
hands, and with the other he gently ran his fingers over the entity's forehead 
and through his hair. 
Looking at Q's still face, Picard could have wept. Q seemed impossibly beautiful 
to him in repose and 
impossibly remote at the same time. Picard took a deep breath, attempting to 
compose himself. Then he 
focused his attention and began to concentrate as he never had before, trying to 
reach through the 
layers of unconscious to where Q's essence remained dormant. 


Picard continued in that position for over two hours. He was concentrating so 
hard that he did not notice 
the door chime. The voice coming from his comm badge did get his attention 
though. "Captain, it's 
Guinan. Will you let me in?" 


"Of course. Come." Guinan walked through the living area to the bedroom. Picard 
glanced up. "I'm 
sorry, Guinan. I didn't hear the door." 


She glanced at Q. "Any luck?" Picard shook his head. Guinan walked over to the 
bed, then sat down on 
the edge. She lifted one of Q's hands, stroking it gently, then pressed her lips 
together in frustration. 
"It's like there's nothing there." Picard nodded, looking distraught and 
anxious, his concentration 
completely broken. 


"Listen, Captain," said Guinan. "This may take days, weeks. You need some rest. 
You're not going to be 
able to get through to him if you're exhausted. When's the last time you ate 
anything?" Picard shrugged. 
"I want you to get yourself something to eat and lie down for a while. I'll stay 
with him. I've talked to 
Data, who's back to normal by the way, and we're going to spell you, so you can 
get some rest. We 
will, of course, wake you if anything happens." 


Picard put his head in his hands. "I can't believe I forgot about Data. That's 
awful." 


Guinan smiled. "Picard, do you think you're being just a little hard on 
yourself? You just defeated one of 
the most powerful threats you've ever encountered, you're exhausted, and one of 
your closest friends 
is lying on your bed in a coma. I think you're entitled to an occasional memory 
lapse." 


Picard shook his head. "No, I'm not. Not after what he did. All right, Guinan, I 
appreciate the help. I'll go 
get some food and a nap, but I want to talk to Data first." Picard walked 
wearily into the living room of 
his quarters, tapping his badge and requesting, "Mr. Data, please report to 
Captain's quarters." Data 
arrived in a few minutes, and Picard stood up to greet him. 


"Mr. Data, I want to tell you how glad I am to hear you've been fully restored." 


"Geordi had no problem following the procedure I had laid out. I cannot exactly 
say it *feels* better to 
be myself again, but I would prefer to be more human than less so." 


"I want to thank you, Data. I believe that one factor that contributed to my 
being able to resist the 
entity was knowing I had you as a backup. Knowing I could rely on you greatly 
improved my confidence 
that I could withstand its powers. You're a courageous and unselfish person, Mr. 
Data, and I hope I 
never ever have to ask you to dehumanize yourself like that again." 


"Thank you, Captain. How is Q?" 


"The same as when we brought him in, I'm afraid. Guinan is in there now." 


"I do not require sleep, Captain, and I would like to help in any way I can. 
When I am off-duty I can sit 
with him and allow you to get some rest." 


"I appreciate it, Data. I'll take you up on it." 


After Data left, Picard got himself some toast and tea from the replicator. He 
didn't think he could 
stomach more than that; his insides were knotted and churning. He lay down on 
the sofa, but felt unable 
to relax, and felt even worse when he realized that he had been relying on Q 
recently to take care of his 
occasional insomnia. He got up, went back toward the bedroom door, and announced 
almost petulantly, 
"I can't sleep anyway." 


Guinan spoke through the comm link next to the bed. "Dr. Crusher, I have a 
restless and cranky starship 
Captain here who needs some sleep. Do you think you might be able to help me?" 


"On my way," laughed Beverly. 


Picard gave Guinan a withering look, then staggered, simultaneously wired and 
exhausted, back out to 
the couch. When Beverly entered, he snapped, "I don't need any drugs. I can take 
care of . . ." 


"Shut up, Jean-Luc. Doctor's orders. You're completely exhausted and wound up 
tighter than a spring." 


He knew he was defeated. "Yes, Doctor," he murmured, bending his neck forward 
obediently to receive 
the hypospray. Within a few moments he was sound asleep, and Beverly spent a few 
minutes 
commiserating with Guinan about the obstinacy of certain starship Captains. 



Chapter 16


Picard lost all track of time as the days slipped by. He hardly ever left his 
quarters, oblivious to what 
was going on in the rest of the ship. Fortunately the Enterprise was engaged in 
a routine scientific 
mission. Picard didn't need distractions, even with the command turned over to 
Riker. He spent most of 
his days sitting on the bed, trying his hardest to penetrate the blank wall that 
was Q's mind. Guinan and 
Data would relieve him, so he could get some sleep and exercise, but he was 
never comfortable leaving 
Q for very long. His accustomed position for hours at a time was sitting cross-
legged at the head of his 
bed, Q's head in his lap, his fingers stroking his patient's hair and forehead 
as he tried to break through. 
One day, finally, he felt the wall of silence that was blocking him seem to 
shift, to waver. Picard 
intensified his concentration and probed deeper. He felt movement, but he hadn't 
gotten all the way 
through, and his frustration was growing. 


* * * 


The inner core of Q's consciousness was almost driven mad with sensory 
deprivation, boredom, and 
loneliness. Q's being had been so utterly drained by his contest with the alien 
entity that he didn't have 
any capacity to chip away at the layers of darkness and silence that enveloped 
him. The thought of 
Picard grew more and more urgent, but he had no awareness of where he was or 
that Picard was with 
him. He tried to remember how to see or hear or to control the movements of his 
adopted human body, 
but the desire to act never translated into action. He remembered having been 
able to create entire star 
systems, and the contrast with his current state was almost too much too bear. 
//Even being human 
was better than this//, he fumed, frustrated at his utter helplessness. The 
sensory deprivation in 
particular was more and more maddening. Although Q couldn't tell how much time 
was passing, he knew 
that he had not seen or felt anything other than darkness and silence for what 
seemed like an eternity. 
He required diversion and stimulation, a need that kept him roaming insatiably 
around the galaxy, but 
now he was in a state where even the Continuum seemed like it afforded an 
infinite variety of 
entertainment. Sometimes he diverted himself by cursing fluently to himself in 
the thousands of 
languages he knew, sometimes he recited books he had memorized to himself, 
mostly he thought about 
Picard. 


Then, one day, he felt something. The darkness and silence shifted somehow, as 
if being pressed upon 
from outside. He tried to wait patiently, knowing that any exertion on his part 
would make things 
worse. Something was reaching into him, probing gently but persistently into his 
mind. Then he would 
have wept with joy if had the energy to produce tears, for he finally sensed a 
mental voice break 
through the silence, calling //Q? Q? Damn it! Answer me!// 


Q's inner essence cried out, //Jean-Luc?// 


The voice returned, gently, soothingly, //I'm here, Q. I'm not going anywhere. 
What can I do?// 


//Just talk to me, please. Please stay. I feel like I've been waiting for you 
forever.// 


//I feel like I've been trying to get through to you forever. I won't leave you, 
but I'm afraid you might 
be exerting yourself too much talking to me.// 


//I'm not exerting myself at all, actually. Don't you realize you're reading my 
mind, Jean-Luc? I don't 
have the energy to project answers back. I can 'hear' you and answer to myself, 
but you're reading my 
mind. The tables have certainly turned, haven't they?// 


//You're going to be all right. It's just going to take some time.// 


//Where am I? The entity? What happened?// 


//You're on board the Enterprise. You're safe. The entity has been destroyed.// 
Picard's anger at the 
being that had so harmed Q and threatened him began to return. The tone of his 
mental voice had a hard 
edge to it, as he continued, //It made for a rather satisfying explosion, 
actually.// 


//I'm in awe. It seems I've underestimated you, mon Capitaine. I won't make that 
mistake again.// 


//I just remembered some advice a friend gave me. Something about the mind being 
everything.// 


//Damn!// returned Q's mental voice, wonderingly. //I'm utterly impressed. I'm 
curious. Where on 
this ship am I?// 


//You're in my quarters, lying on my bed. You've been here for days without 
moving. Guinan and Data 
have also been sitting with you, and your friend from the Continuum was here.// 


//Q? Good old Q. Tell me more--what are you doing right now?// 


Picard hesitated. //Your head is on my lap//, he replied slowly, //and I am 
holding one of your hands, 
and my other hand is stroking your forehead. Satisfied?// 


//Really, Picard, I didn't think you'd be the type to take advantage of a 
helpless entity. Have you been 
doing anything else to me that I ought to know about?// 


//NO!// 


//A pity. And Jean-Luc?// 


//Yes?// 


//You shouldn't snap at a guy when he's down.// 


//Sorry, but you were asking for it. Listen, Q, I would love to continue this 
conversation, but this 
process is rather exhausting for me. Telepathy doesn't exactly come naturally to 
me. But I'll be back. I 
promise.// 


//I understand. I really am going to need your help when I'm ready to start 
pushing my way out of 
here.// 


//I know. Q?// 


//Yes, Jean-Luc?// 


//You can't begin to imagine what a relief it is to have you back.// 


//Je t'aime, Jean-Luc.// 


* * * 


After Picard had fortified himself with a meal and a nap, he returned to the 
bed. Settling himself in in 
his accustomed position, he reached into Q's mind. 


//How are you feeling?// 


//Bored out of my mind, but delighted to hear your 'voice.' Jean-Luc, I've got 
to at least get the 
equivalent of my senses back. You can't imagine what it's like--complete 
darkness, total silence. I do 
have a lot of mental resources with which to amuse myself, but the sensory 
deprivation is driving me 
insane. And when one of us goes insane, it's not pretty.// 


//I can imagine. I'm ready. What can I do?// 


//I need some of that Picardian energy and drive. Whenever I try to push the 
darkness away on my 
own, it just closes in more. To use an old earth term, I need a jumpstart, 
although I don't know exactly 
how you're going to give it to me. We'll have to play it by ear.// 


//OK, give me a minute to focus.// Picard settled himself in more comfortably, 
reached down and took 
each of Q's hands in his own, then began a process with which he was now fairly 
familiar, blocking out 
all distractions and considerations. Then he began the process of probing deeply 
into Q's mind, 
penetrating through the layers of unconsciousness, going deeper than he had 
before. Suddenly he was 
overwhelmed; he had accessed Q's knowledge and memory, and it was flooding into 
his brain. 


//Block that out//, insisted Q's mental voice, //you can't handle it.// 


//Quite so//, replied Picard. He erected a mental dam against the flood of 
information. 


Once he had done so, he began experiencing precisely what Q was experiencing. He 
felt his senses 
slipping away as his mind was shrouded in a darkness and silence so absolute 
that Picard felt as though 
he had slipped into the vacuum of space. The sense of nothingness was 
devastating, but Q's voice 
brought him back sharply. //Don't lose yourself. That won't help either of us. 
This isn't the time for 
our minds to join. If you want to try it some time, it'd be my pleasure, but now 
is not the time.// 


Picard began pulling back a little mentally. He was still observing Q's 
remaining mental space enclosed 
in darkness and silence, but he had regained a sense of his own mind as well. 
//Jumpstart, huh?// he 
thought to himself. Picard squeezed Q's hands tighter and began imagining a beam 
of energy flowing 
from his mind to Q's. He poured all of his mental energy, all of his 
concentration, all of his feeling for Q 
and his desire for his recovery into this beam, and it began to work. The 
darkness began to clear and 
dissipate and fade. A flood of light poured into Q's mind. 


//I think you've done it//, remarked Q's mental voice. 


Picard gently disengaged his mind from Q's and opened his eyes. A delighted grin 
broke out on his face 
when he saw that Q had, finally, opened his as well. From Q's perspective, the 
first thing he saw was 
Picard's head hovering over his, upside down, as he was lying on his back with 
his head on Picard's lap. 
He first thing he felt was Picard's hands tightly gripping both of his. He 
spoke, and his voice was weak, 
but audible. "This is rather intimate, isn't it, mon Capitaine? Are you sure you 
haven't been taking 
advantage of me?" 


"Quite sure," whispered Picard, slowly releasing Q's hands, but delighted to 
hear his voice. 


"Don't go, but I think I would like the pleasure of seeing your face right side 
up." 


Picard extricated himself from where he was sitting, then repositioned himself 
on the edge of the bed, 
facing his patient and once again taking his hands into his own. Q's eyes roamed 
hungrily over Picard's 
face, then he said very quietly, "God, you're beautiful. This little room in 
this pathetic little ship seems 
like paradise. You know, I may have just learned how to appreciate simple 
things." Picard smiled, 
stroking Q's hands. 


"Now what?" asked Picard. 


Q tried lifting up his hand and arm, but it flopped quickly back on the bed. 
"Not much, I'm afraid. I think I 
just have to lie here and wait for my strength and powers to regenerate. It's 
frustrating as hell, but 
from what I understand of my condition, I can't push myself too hard, or I'll 
regress. It takes a lot of 
energy to keep one of us going, and when that gets completely drained, it takes 
a while for it to be 
restored. And I really hate being helpless like this. I hope you're patient, 
Picard, because I'm going to be 
a real pain." 


"So what's new?" asked Picard with a grin. Then more softly, "Be as much of a 
pain as you want. I'm 
so delighted to have you back that I can put up with whatever you can dish out." 


"Well, I'm going to be very demanding." 


"Demand away." 


"How about a hug?" Picard bent down, sliding his arms around Q, half-lifting 
him, and Q managed to 
drape his own arms loosely along Picard's back. There they remained for close to 
a minute, then Picard 
gently rearranged his patient back on the bed. 


"You should rest, but let me know when you're ready for visitors. There are 
quite a few people who are 
going to want to see you." 


Q nodded. "I want to see them too." 


Picard paused for a moment. "Now that you're conscious, Q, I really should 
return to my duties. You'll 
have all the company you desire, but you should rest, too. And I'll spend my 
free hours with you." 


"I am, after all, installed in your quarters. I understand, Jean-Luc. I'm 
flattered you relinquished your 
command for me in the first place." 


"That's ridiculous, Q. How could I have done differently?" 


* * * 


Over the next several days, Q received a stream of visitors to keep him 
occupied. Having been deprived 
of sights, sounds, and company for so long, he took an ecstatic delight in each 
of his visitors, 
marvelling at the details of their appearances and the quirks of their 
personalities. Data's yellow eyes 
and desire to be human, Guinan's outlandish wardrobe and knowing smile, Deanna 
Troi's physique and 
reassuring demeanor, Geordi's warmth and directness, Riker's breezy confidence--
all this and more 
was a source of infinite fascination for him. Unable to move around or use his 
powers, Q immersed 
himself in human individuality. His visitors may have been flawed and limited, 
but they had a 
tremendous amount to offer as well. Even Worf paid him a visit. Gruffly, he 
acknowledged, "That was 
the act of a warrior to encounter that being alone. That took courage." 


"I appreciate the sentiment, Klingon," replied Q, "but actually, it was pretty 
stupid of me. It all came 
from underestimating your Captain." 


"That was a mistake," said Worf with a quick smile, "but taking the 
responsibility to protect your 
friends and face a more powerful foe is something I can admire." 


"Thank you, Worf, but I'm going to dissipate your admiration somewhat by 
admitting that I'd just as 
soon not be in that situation again. I'm much more comfortable being the most 
powerful being around. 
*This*," Q gestured at the bed, indicating his own helplessness, "is driving me 
crazy." 


Worf nodded sympathetically. 


Q's willingness to sacrifice himself for the crew definitely enhanced his 
popularity. One evening, as 
Picard was returning to his quarters, Riker was on his way out. The first 
officer turned back to Q, who 
was sitting up in bed, "You're sure you don't want to join us for poker? I'm 
sure the Captain wouldn't 
mind us convening in here." 


Q laughed. "Thanks, Riker, but even if I don't have my powers back, I have 
restored my telepathic 
abilities. I'm not nearly as virtuous as you're imagining me. Cheating just 
comes naturally to me." 


Riker shrugged and left. Q turned anxiously to Picard, "Jean-Luc, now that I can 
read your mind again, I 
want to watch your encounter with that creature, if you don't think it would be 
too hard on you. I really 
want to watch that puppy blow up." Picard looked startled at the hardness in Q's 
voice. Q had been so 
preoccupied with his own recovery, that he hadn't been dwelling on his fury at 
what had been done to 
him. 


Picard said, "All right, if you don't think it will be too hard on *you*." 


"I can take it." 


Picard sat down on the edge of the bed, nodded, and said, "Be my guest." 


He felt Q's mind entering his own and observed that Q seemed to be sifting 
through his memories until 
he found what he wanted. Then Q selected Picard's entire confrontation with the 
alien entity, starting 
from the time Picard had come up with his plan. They both watched the memories 
unfolding in Picard's 
mind, and Picard realized that Q was able to extricate his memories much more 
vividly than he could 
himself. He was almost reliving the experience. Q watched with admiration and 
wonder as the being 
which had so crippled him exploded, replaying the moment a few times with 
satisfaction. After he 
disengaged his mind from Picard's, he sighed and smiled, and remarked, "Now that 
feels much better." 
Then he paused and said slowly, "You know you enhanced that phaser beam, don't 
you?" 


"Well, yes," said Picard, "Geordi made modifications before we departed . . ." 


Q exploded, "Will you ever stop being so dimwitted, Picard? You enhanced it with 
your mind. It couldn't 
have drilled through that shell by itelf." 


"No, no," said Picard, shaking his head, "I didn't, I couldn't." Having the 
power to communicate 
telepathically with Q was one thing, being able to manipulate matter and energy 
with his mind was 
something else altogether, and he wasn't ready for it. 


"Yes, you did. You may not ever be able to do it again, but in this case, shall 
we say, you rose to the 
occasion. You never cease to amaze me, Jean-Luc." 


* * * 


Q's powers were returning slowly, but he had to exert all of his self-discipline 
to prevent himself from 
trying to do too much too soon. He was beginning to get restless, but it took 
him several days to realize 
that he was actually enjoying all the attention he was getting from Picard, 
Data, Guinan, and the 
others, especially Picard. He still felt chagrined about how helpless he was, 
but when Picard sat with 
him, rubbing his shoulders or forehead, he basked in the sensation; there was 
something enticing about 
being taken care of. Still, with each passing day, Q's restlessness grew. As his 
recovery progressed, 
he became more and more uneasy about his need for Picard's company and more and 
more anxious to 
regain his usual self-sufficiency. 


As Q recovered, his blond compatriot made regular visits to check on his 
progress. On one such 
occasion, Picard had been in the room, sitting on the bed with Q and urging him 
not to exert himself. 
After he had to return to the bridge, the second Q appeared in the room, 
remarking, "I honestly don't 
know *what* you see in him. I'll grant you, he's cute, but don't you feel like 
you're degrading yourself 
just a leetle bit by consorting with a human?" 


"Jealous?" 


The second Q didn't reply, so Q pressed his question more forcefully: "*Are you 
jealous?*" Without 
waiting for an answer, Q invaded his companion's mind, then laughed gleefully, 
"You *are* jealous! And 
of a *mere* human, yet." 


"You never learn, do you?" snapped the second Q. "You have absolutely no respect 
for anyone's 
privacy, but if anyone presumes to make the slightest intrusion on yours, you 
blow up." 


"Hmm," mused Q mockingly, "Knowledge is power, and I always *did* like to be on 
top. And you knew 
that from the start. But you have no right to complain, my sweet--our separation 
was *your* idea." 


"Yes, because it was obvious you were suffocating with boredom. You had probed 
every recess of my 
mind, and you had nothing left to discover. But every time I tried to read you, 
to figure out where I 
stood, you lost your temper and threw barriers up in every direction. You locked 
me out, while forcing 
me to remain open to you, and the only clear emotion that I could register from 
you was boredom--
what choice did I have?" 


"Not much, I'll grant you--if I was going with myself, I would have broken up 
with myself long before 
you did," conceded Q, "but you certainly didn't waste any time getting your 
revenge. I may have been 
insufferable, but I never would have betrayed you the way you betrayed me. You 
turned the Continuum 
against me. You put me in charge of testing humans because you were sure they 
would pass the tests, 
and I would be humiliated. You exiled me, and you stripped me of my powers. But 
your campaign against 
me backfired, dear; thanks to your insistence that I be assigned humans, the 
most dreaded research 
assignment in the Continuum, I have met the one being in the universe I can 
really care about. You have 
only yourself to blame." 


"If you weren't bedridden . . . " fumed Q's fellow entity. "I don't know why I'm 
talking to you anyway. I 
wish you joy of your Captain, and I wish him luck--he'll need it. If I'm 
jealous, it's because my memory 
of what a plague you are is obviously much too short. Fortunately for me, the 
memories are flooding 
back." 


Q smiled, almost affectionately; his newly-developping capacity for forgiveness 
was overriding his 
usual tendency to hold a grudge until the end of time. He noted, "Well, that 
should cure your 
lovesickness for a while, Q. Isn't there anyone else?" 


Q's blond companion sighed, and he said softly, "I've been with others who were 
a lot easier to get 
along with, but none anywhere near as intoxicating as you. I'd better go. How 
about a kiss for old times' 
sake?" 


Q complied with his compatriot's request. The second Q then raised a hand in 
farewell, admonishing Q, 
"Try to keep out of trouble, OK?" Then he couldn't resist adding, "You, in love 
with a human--what a 
delicious irony." He immediately rematerialized on the bridge. The bridge crew 
was no longer startled 
by these sudden arrivals and departures, but the silent conversation being 
carried on between the 
stranger and the Captain roused their curiosity. It was to remain unsatisfied 
however. 


//Captain//, announced the second Q, //I'm going to take my leave. Your patient 
is well on the road to 
recovery. And, Captain . . .// 


//Yes?// 


//Take care of him, OK? He needs someone to keep an eye on him.// 


Picard smiled and nodded. //I'll do my best, but it won't be easy.// 


//You're telling me. Good luck. You'll need it.// 


Light blazed, and the blond Q was gone. Picard realized the two Qs had a 
history. //He certainly does 
get around, doesn't he?// he mused to himself. 


* * * 


Picard's prediction that taking care of Q wouldn't be easy came true sooner than 
he would have 
anticipated. For all his vaunted self-sufficiency, Q had a tremendous desire to 
be looked up to and a 
corresponding distaste at being belittled in any fashion. One reason he had 
returned repeatedly to the 
Enterprise over the years to torment Picard was to get back at him for the 
mockery the Captain 
inflicted on him. The more Picard revealed his utter contempt for Q, the more 
crucial it became for Q to 
force Picard to bend to his will. He repeatedly laid traps for Picard, rigging 
the scenarios he set up so 
that Picard would be proven wrong again and again. Q was equally sensitive to 
the opinions of his fellow 
Qs. His overwrought anger at Picard after his confrontation with the Continuum 
was in direct 
proportion to his sense of humiliation that his pet had failed so miserably. And 
now he had had to put up 
with his colleague's derision at his choice of love interests. It was hard 
enough for him to accept that he 
was utterly captivated by a mere human, but to be the object of Continuum gossip 
was too much 
altogether. He was a Q, after all, and a Q never *needed* anyone or anything. 
Relationships were a 
way of whiling away time and adding spark to a monotonous existence, but liasons 
with members of 
inferior species were simply a means to an end. A humanoid love object could be 
no more than a pet 
because it would be both degrading and undignified actually to fall in love with 
such a lesser being. Q 
couldn't believe he had forgotten himself to such an extent as to let Picard 
become *that* important to 
him. 


When Picard returned to his quarters, he found that Q had developed an attitude. 
He sensed it as soon as 
he walked in the door, and he had no intention of rolling over and playing dead 
for Q's benefit. Q may 
have been in the mood to dish out abuse, but Picard wasn't having any. Q was 
lying on the couch, his 
feet propped up on the arm, paging idly through a book. He didn't bother to turn 
his head when Picard 
entered, but after a few moments, he released the book, which drifted a couple 
of feet above the couch 
and remained there. "He's cute, isn't he?" asked Q laconically. 


"Who?" 


"My friend from the Continuum. Don't you think he's cute?" 


"I hadn't noticed," replied Picard equally laconically. "It doesn't occur to me 
to assess men or entities 
in male form for that matter in terms of their relative cuteness." 


Q turned his head toward Picard for the first time, "And that's because in that 
respect as in so many 
ways you're still the narrow, limited creature you were when I met you, Picard. 
After all my attempts 
to open your mind, you remain entrenched in your close-minded little world-
view." 


"It's true," said Picard, maintaining his mild demeanor, although he couldn't 
prevent an edge of frost 
from creeping into his voice, "I haven't been making strenuous efforts to raise 
myself to your exalted 
level. You and I may share many qualities, but I'm not going to modify the rest 
of myself so I can serve 
as a more perfect mirror for you. If you're looking for a reflection of your own 
glory, you're not going 
to find it in me, a *mere* human." 


"Is *that* what you think I'm looking for, Picard?" said Q in a steely tone. 
"Don't flatter yourself that 
I could ever begin to think of you as a mirror. You couldn't even come close. I 
hadn't realized how 
refreshing it was to converse with someone whose mind is capable of sustaining 
some actual ideas. Of 
course, you couldn't possibly understand what it's like." 


"Then why don't you join him then?" queried Picard, his voice becoming 
increasingly icy. 


Q yawned and stretched as he got up from the couch. "Well, my limited friend, 
you may have had one 
substantial triumph, but frankly, you've still got a *long* way to go. Whether 
you like it or not, I'm 
responsible for you now, remember? You're still much too flawed to be allowed to 
roam around the 
galaxy on your own." 


That did it. Picard's patience was at an end. "Q, I am tired of this. I am 
neither your property nor your 
pet. And I want you out of here NOW!" 


"You can't tell me what to do, *human*. I'm not going *anywhere*." 


"Suit yourself." Picard stretched out comfortably on the couch, put up his feet, 
and began thumbing 
through a book, studiously ignoring Q. The book flew out of his hands and 
upward, where it remained 
hovering near the ceiling. Picard folded his arms across his chest and sighed. 


"We'll just have to see how long your arrogance can hold out," threatened Q. 


As Picard watched in numb amazement, his quarters began to melt away. As the 
walls melted, they 
spun dizzily in a vertigo-inducing blur. As the spinning motion slowed down, he 
found himself standing 
alone on a small plateau near the top of a large volcano, who knows where, a 
short walk from the lip of 
the crater, which was emitting billows of steam. //Q, damn it!// he exclaimed in 
his head, //You don't 
need to do this. For pity's sake, I know what you're capable of. You don't need 
to prove anything to 
me.// 


No reply. 


//All right, then, very well. We'll play your little game. I've never seen a 
volcano erupt from this 
close before. I'm sure it will be very educational.// Picard walked up to the 
lip of the crater and gazed 
in. The volcano clearly was close to erupting. Picard watched the yellow and 
orange and black swirls of 
molten lava boiling furiously. //Very impressive, display, Q//, continued 
Picard. Although he heard no 
reply, he still could sense that Q was listening. //Certainly a more creative 
way of blowing off steam, 
if you'll pardon the expression, than smashing one's fist into a wall or 
shattering a glass.// Picard 
smiled at his own small joke. 


He then returned to the point a couple hundred feet from the rim where he had 
first found himself and 
waited, watching the bursts of steam from the crater and remarking mentally, //I 
won't grovel or beg 
for help, so if that's what you're looking for, you won't get it.// As the 
mountain began to rumble and 
shake, he felt an instinctive clutch of fear, which he instantly dismissed. With 
a devastating roar, the 
top of the volcano blew right off. As Picard watched, huge chunks of rock 
whizzed past his head, and 
hot molten lava coursed furiously downhill. Picard remained standing, his arms 
folded, as the river of 
lava parted around the small plateau where he stood, then merged again below 
him. The sky filled with 
steam and smoke, and the ground continued to shake, without, however, knocking 
Picard off-balance. He 
was actually enjoying himself, almost hypnotized by watching the glistening, 
surging flow of lava. 


As the eruption began to subside, Picard felt himself as if in the center of a 
whirlpool. The world around 
him spun dizzily and rapidly, finally slowing until he found himself back on the 
couch in his quarters, 
alone. An instant later, the hovering book drifted down from the ceiling and 
into his hands. //Well, Q, 
you certainly think of everything//, said Picard as he sighed and put down the 
book to indulge in a 
sustained stretch. 


No reply. 


//Q, I'm sorry if this is a blow to your ego, but you didn't frighten me. Not 
this time. And you're 
hopelessly dim if you haven't figured out by now that I trust you. Absolutely. 
You can annoy the hell out 
of me, but you can't frighten me. Don't you get it, you half-witted entity? I 
*trust* you.// 


No reply. 


//I know you're listening, and I can just imagine how furious you are that your 
little display did not 
have the desired effect. Nice try, though//, he concluded helpfully. 


Still no reply. With a sigh Picard strode out of his quarters and headed for 
Ten-Forward. He walked in 
and headed for a corner table. Guinan immediately made him a drink then went 
over to join him. 


"Lovers' quarrel?" she asked with a smile, as she sat down. 


Picard raised the drink slightly, saying "Thanks." He continued, "Guinan, Q and 
I are *not* lovers. I 
don't know what we *are*, but it's not that. But you're right about the quarrel 
part. And he made an 
impressive display of temper. He's probably fuming that he didn't terrify me." 


Guinan laughed. "I've experienced his tantrums. He's very inventive." 


"Quite so," acknowledged Picard. "Well, it's partially my fault. Why do I let 
him get under my skin so 
easily? I ought to understand what's going on. His friend was probably giving 
him a hard time about me, 
but even more, he probably really resents his dependence these days. After all, 
I had to come to *his* 
rescue--knowing Q, that's probably eating away at him. I know him well enough 
now that I should be 
able to see when he really just needs some understanding, but instead I just 
take his bait over and over 
again." 


Guinan smiled and nodded sympathetically. "Q is a person like the rest of us--
emotionally he's as human 
as you are, perhaps even more so. He just has a much larger canvas on which to 
express himself." 


"Thanks," said Picard, raising his eyebrows, "even you're accusing me of being 
inhuman." 


"Well, Picard, you do hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. For example, 
you're entitled to get 
pissed off at Q. He can be very childish, as you've just experienced. Unlike 
most members of the 
Continuum, Q is constantly exploding with energy. He can't channel that energy 
toward any 
constructive purpose, the way you can, because he can have whatever he wants 
whenever he wants it. 
So he's always looking for an outlet. And he has a great deal invested in his 
image of himself as a self-
sufficient, autonomous being, an outlaw if you will. He has tremendous powers 
and knowledge and 
intelligence, even for a Q, but he has no experience in adapting himself to 
others. He's always been able 
to find romantic partners because of the force of his personality, but he's 
always left them at the first 
suggestion that he might have to give or compromise, or he's driven them away, 
which amounts to the 
same thing. Given this self-image he's constructed, it's inevitable there are 
going to be fireworks when 
coming up against a personality as strong as yours. He's actually adjusted very 
well to being on board 
the ship; I was worried he'd blow us to bits accidently from sheer nervous 
energy, but he's been 
successful at channeling that, which is quite an accomplishment for Q. You're 
just going to have to put 
up with the occasional explosion because his self-control inevitably runs out. 
But next time you see 
him, he'll be much calmer. If he picks fights with you, it's just one of his 
ways of dissipating energy, 
but it also helps him maintain his sense of his own dignity. I don't think you 
really understand yet what 
you mean to him, Captain, and how hard it must be for him to acknowledge that 
there *exists* a being 
that means that much to him." 


"It is hard for me to understand that because I don't know what it can mean for 
an entity of his power 
and immortality to become attached to a mortal. Data once said he thought Q's 
fascination with me was 
like that of a master with a beloved pet . . ." 


"That may have been the case in the past, but it isn't now, and you know it," 
said Guinan almost 
reproachfully. "What it means for an entity of his power to become attached to 
you is exactly what it 
would mean for any of us to become attached to someone. His powers are 
altogether in another 
dimension, or several, as is his lifespan, but emotionally he's absolutely 
human, Picard. He has needs, 
desires, vulnerabilities, and fears, and a very human instinct to protect 
himself from revealing those 
fears and vulnerabilities. You're not so different in that respect. In fact, you 
two are very much like." 


Picard nodded. "Of course, that's why we get along so badly." 


Picard went back to his quarters and sat back thoughtfully on the couch. Within 
a few moments he heard 
the door chime. "Come." To his surprise, it was Q. While Q had improved his 
manners when visiting 
other shipmates, he had never used the door chime when visiting Picard. He had 
always simply 
appeared. Q walked in and began to pace. His eyes were downcast, but Q was 
trying to muster his usual 
smile. 


He paused for a moment, then said, "Your trust means everything to me, but I 
don't deserve it." 


"Yes, you do," replied Picard. "Since you've been on this ship, you've never 
violated it. That's not to 
say you aren't a royal pain, because you are," he continued with a slight smile. 


"True enough. I'm sorry, Jean-Luc. I was being my usual thoughtless and 
inconsiderate self, but you 
deserve better. I'm really sorry." 


"You're not sorry," said Picard, but he was smiling. "At least you're not sorry 
about your little 
performance, which I enjoyed tremendously, by the way. If you're sorry about 
anything, it's that you 
didn't achieve the victory you were looking for." 


"I suppose you're right. I'm a hopeless fool, and everything you said about me 
before was true." 


"Don't you see? You can threaten all you want, and I know you have the capacity 
to overpower me or 
kidnap me or brainwash me, but I know with equal certainty you'd never actually 
do it." 


"It's true," said Q as he continued to pace. "I care about you too much for 
that. I just felt like you were 
taking me for granted ever since you came galloping to my rescue. It's not that 
I'm ungrateful, but I felt 
this irresistable impulse to try to force you to acknowledge my power." 


"I do acknowledge it. I would never underestimate you. I just have complete 
confidence you won't harm 
me. But just because you've earned my trust doesn't mean I take you for granted. 
You're much too 
impossible ever to take for granted." 


"I'm glad to hear it. I am sorry for being so petty though." 


Picard smiled, "I wasn't exactly on my best behavior either." 


"Well, I started it, as I usually do. I did warn you I wouldn't be easy to get 
along with." 


Picard laughed. "I never for a moment imagined you would be. In fact I'd 
probably be disappointed if all 
of a sudden you were. But you needn't feel diminished because you didn't 
frighten me. I never forget for 
a moment that you have the power to do whatever you want with me." 


Q smiled slightly, "Well, the truth is, Jean-Luc, *you* can do whatever you want 
with *me*. That's 
not a position I'm used to." 
  


Chapter 17 


Q had completely recovered, obviously, and the Enterprise crew was getting used 
to the spectacle of 
seeing Q and Picard walk down a corridor together or sit in Ten-Forward carrying 
on an animated 
conversation, without a single word being spoken. Q could make Picard laugh more 
than anyone else 
could, but his mercilessly wicked sense of humor made Picard grateful that he 
was the only one who 
could "hear" Q's remarks. Although Q was getting along famously with the 
Enterprise's crew, creating 
magnificent spectacles with his returned powers and generally proving himself an 
infinitely 
entertaining shipmate, it became increasingly apparent to those who knew him at 
all that all was not 
well. Q prowled the corridors of the Enterprise like a caged tiger pacing in a 
zoo, provoking a similar 
type of cognitive dissonance in his observers. On the one hand, it was 
exhilarating to contemplate all 
that energy and power at close range and in safety; on the other hand, it was 
disconcerting to realize 
that what one was observing was most definitely out of its element and didn't 
belong. Even his 
increasingly frequent solo expeditions around the galaxy were not sufficient to 
dispel his accumulating 
nervous energy. What was becoming increasingly clear to him was something he did 
not want to admit. 


Returning to the ship after one such expedition, Q was feeling more than usually 
conscious of the 
sensation of confinement that was oppressing him. The walls seemed to be closing 
in, and even the 
prospect of seeing Picard when he was off-duty couldn't dispel his mood. Q 
popped into Ten-Forward, 
flinging himself onto a bar stool and causing the ship to lurch slightly in the 
process. Guinan walked over 
to him hesitantly. She knew what he needed to hear, but she didn't know if he 
was ready to hear it. Q 
and Guinan never wasted time on preliminaries when they talked together; they 
simply got right to the 
point. "I worry sometimes," she said carefully, "that you might accidentally 
blow us to pieces after all. 
That energy needs some sort of outlet." 


"Well, if I do," snapped Q irritably, "I can dispel even more energy putting you 
back together." 


"It wouldn't be a pleasant experience for us though, believe me. This," Guinan 
gestured, as if indicating 
the whole ship, "isn't right for you. It's not natural." 


"What are you talking about, Woman? I don't have to be here. I chose it. Don't 
you understand how 
important he is to me?" 


"Yes I do, but is he so important to you that you're willing to be untrue to 
yourself? And him. It's 
obvious that being on this ship as much as you are is making you claustrophobic, 
but has it occurred to 
you that Picard may not be ready for such continuous proximity either? There is 
a bond between the 
two of you; you're terribly important to him. I think you've gotten closer to 
him than you ever imagined 
you would. But I don't think the connection between you is going to be served by 
your being in each 
other's faces all the time. That's not who he is, and that's not what you are." 


Q looked miserable. "But Guinan, damn it, he's mortal! The time I have with him 
is so limited." 


"Isn't that more of a reason to make the time you have actually mean something, 
instead of forcing a 
proximity that isn't natural to either of you? You can see him whenever you 
want; I just don't think 
your remaining here is good for you or your relationship with him." 


Q slammed his hand into the bar, and the ship gave an even more decided lurch. 
Guinan tried to repress 
a smile and walked over to the comm panel at the end of the bar. "Ten-Forward to 
bridge. No need to 
worry. Q's just letting off a little excess energy." 


"Acknowledged." replied Picard crisply. "If you think he's in the mood for 
taking advice, would you 
kindly suggest to him that he blow off steam elsewhere? Picard out." 


Q glared at Guinan, and exclaimed, "Do you want to know what I really *hate* 
about you, Woman? You 
know better than I do, and that's supposed to be *my* job." 


"Well, you need someone to look after you, too," said Guinan gently. 


Q spoke mentally to Picard, asking to talk to him when he was off-duty, then 
turned back to Guinan, 
shaking his head slowly. "I thought I knew what I wanted, but it turns out I 
don't. I really have been 
around humans too long; I'm starting to get as confused as they are." 


* * * 


Picard walked slowly to his quarters, knowing that things couldn't continue the 
way they had been. Q 
simply wasn't capable of staying in one place for long, even if that place was a 
travelling starship. As 
far as Picard was concerned, he felt confident in his connection with his 
omnipotent companion, but 
right now Q was taking up too much of his attention and time. Picard was 
grateful for having found a 
companion with whom he had so much in common, who allowed him to be himself in a 
way he really 
couldn't with his crew, but he also craved privacy. His time alone had always 
been very precious to 
him, allowing him to pursue interests that were satisfying and soul-restoring 
diversions from the 
responsibilities of command. When was the last time he had picked up a 
paintbrush? Or his Ressikan 
flute? As far as Q was concerned, he found himself already starting to take his 
presence for granted; 
before the incident with the extra-galactic entity, he had felt himself slipping 
into a comfortable 
complacency, lulled by the protection Q offered. And at the same time, he 
started to find his irritation 
at Q's faults returning; Picard couldn't help noticing Q's petulance and self-
indulgence, his expectation 
that Picard drop everything when he wanted attention. Picard wanted the 
exhilaration and stimulation 
Q's presence often provided; Q's knowledge, powers, and energy made him an 
infinitely intriguing 
companion. But Picard didn't have it in him to deal with Q on a daily basis; 
that would seem to require a 
superhuman level of patience, a level of patience even his fellow Qs were 
lacking. 


Picard paused as the doors to his quarters slid open, then walked in to find Q, 
as he expected, reclining 
on the couch. Q jumped up to a sitting position as soon as Picard entered. 
Picard smiled, walking up to 
him, and remarking gently, "You might want to restrain those sudden motions a 
bit. I don't know if the 
inertial damping system can handle the stress." 


"Sorry," replied the entity, patting the couch next to him. "Just a little 
nervous energy . . ." 


"Which our primitive technology isn't adequate to handle," Picard finished for 
him, sitting down, still 
smiling. He sighed, then said, "We have a problem here, don't we?" 


"Quite so," replied Q, imitating Picard's accent and inflection with a smile. "I 
really am fond of this 
primitive clunker, you know. It feels like home, but that's part of the problem. 
Having a place to drop in 
on is very appealing, but feeling like I'm actually expected to be somewhere 
doesn't suit me very well." 


"I understand," noted Picard. "It must feel very similar to being planet-bound 
for me. After a while, I 
have to be moving again." 


"I really have to get away from this ship, but don't get me wrong," said Q. "I'm 
still going to be keeping 
an eye on you. As far as I'm concerned, your education is far from over, my 
friend. And I have plenty 
of vacation ideas for you. After all, you'll need something to occupy you when 
you retire. Meanwhile, 
I'll still be an annoyingly frequent visitor and undoubtedly outstay my welcome, 
and if you're in any 
real trouble, I'll be really pissed off if you don't call me, even though you 
seem quite capable, these 
days, of taking care of yourself." 


"You just don't want to miss any action. Understand though, that I will only 
call you as a last resort. 
It's not that I'm ungrateful for the protection you offered, but when I *had* to 
rely on myself, it was 
the first time I really felt myself again in command since you came on board. 
You know, you're the one 
who showed me I have to take risks. I have to fly without a net, Q, but I'm not 
so arrogant as to say 
that I will never request your assistance. Your guidance has proven invaluable 
to me. Do you 
understand?" 


"Yes, and I also understand now that my guidance is only useful to you insofar 
as it helps you rely on 
yourself. I knew you had potential, but even so, I had no idea how much. But 
that's not really why I'm 
leaving. I'm leaving because I'm claustrophobic . . . in more ways than one. If 
we keep seeing each other 
on a daily basis, we're going to start throwing furniture at each other, and 
eventually I'd get tired of 
repairing the damage to your ship. You're very important to me Jean-Luc, but 
you'll be relieved to 
know I don't want to marry you." 


"*Did* you?" asked Picard cautiously. 


Q laughed. "Not exactly. I wasn't envisioning a future that consisted of the two 
of us puttering around 
the kitchen in our bathrobes and squabbling over who misplaced the pizza 
cutter." 


Picard laughed heartily at the image. "Now that *is* frightening, Q." 


"See, I still can strike fear in you. Let me ask you something, Jean-Luc. When I 
took Vash away from 
you, you let her go graciously enough. Let the best man win and all that. You 
imagined me triumphing in 
rousing your jealousy of me. But did it *ever* enter your *straight* and narrow 
little mind that I was 
trying to make you jealous of *her*?" 


Picard sighed and put his head in his hands. "No, Q, I can't say that had 
occurred to me." 


"Well, are you getting it now? Do you understand why I came here?" In a harder 
tone, he added, "Hell, 
even Data figured it out." 


"I suspect," murmured Picard, "that I was trying very hard to *avoid* figuring 
it out, Q. *That* is 
not something I'm ready for." 


"I know," said Q with a slight smile. "But I'll tell you what. I don't think I 
am either. Seriously, Jean-
Luc, I'm not exactly sure what I wanted. I still feel the impulse to assert some 
kind of dominion over 
you . . . " 


"As I will continue to resist," interjected Picard with a smile. 


"And well you should. I can't help trying to compel you to capitulate to me, but 
I'd be terribly 
disappointed if you actually did. But beyond trying to exercise power over you, 
and even beyond seeing 
myself in you and forcing you to see yourself in me, I think what I really 
wanted was simply to forge a 
genuine connection with you." 


"And that you have, Q. Just because I can't . . . or I'm not ready for . . . 
well, you know what I'm 
getting at . . . that doesn't mean I don't want you in my life. There's a bond 
between us that is terribly 
important to me. In my own very particular way--and you *forced* me to say this 
once before, but 
now I say it willingly--*I need you*. You've forced me to acknowledge parts of 
myself I thought I had 
long buried, parts of myself that I'm very grateful to have rediscovered. But 
it's not only that. Even 
though you are the most maddening individual I've ever encountered, I really do 
enjoy your company." 


"As I do yours," noted Q, "and you may be a pompous ass on occasion, Jean-Luc, 
but if I had lungs, you 
would take my breath away. For me to feel that way about anyone or anything is a 
miracle. And I want 
to keep it that way. . . . My existence has been pretty short of miracles for 
some time now. The last 
thing I want is to start taking you for granted or vice versa." Picard nodded, 
one of those trademark 
Picard nods which conveyed complete understanding and agreement. "By the way," 
continued Q, "has 
anyone ever told you that you're unutterably beautiful?" 


"I've heard rumors to that effect," replied Picard uncomfortably, "but they were 
unsubstantiated." 


"No. They weren't. You know," remarked Q, "I've *finally* discovered something 
you're modest about. 
And entirely without cause. I can tell you things about yourself you *should* be 
modest about, but your 
looks are not among them." 


Anxious to change the subject, Picard queried, "When I was in your mind, when 
you started recovering, 
you said something about joining minds. What did you mean by that? How is that 
different from 
communicating telepathically or mind-reading?" 


"Oh nothing, I was just babbling." 


"No you weren't. What did you mean?" 


Q made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "Oh, Picard, you have far too much 
curiosity about things 
beyond your ken. I shouldn't have mentioned it." 


Picard's hand lashed out and grasped Q's wrist in an iron grasp. In a steely 
voice, he enuniciated 
slowly, "*Don't* patronize me. I've earned that much." 


"You're right, OK?" snapped Q, rubbing his wrist. "I'll *try* to explain it to 
you, but if you *don't* 
get it, don't blame me. You may be a particularly advanced specimen of your 
species, but you're still 
limited, and you have to acknowledge that, on the whole, my powers and knowledge 
exceed yours. 
There are aspects of Q existence that are very difficult to convey verbally." 


"Then you'll just have to show me," said Picard. 


Q raised his eyebrows. "My, aren't we overconfident? Well, I'll explain it to 
you, and then you can 
decide if you *think* you can handle it. Or want to. First of all, let me tell 
you what it's not. Joining 
minds is not like the equivalent of sex for us." 


"Do you *have* sex?" asked Picard, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued. 


"Now you're patronizing *me*!" snapped Q. "What do you think we are? Stiffs? Of 
course we have sex, 
but it's not like how you have sex." 


"What *is* it like?" asked Picard, with strained patience. 


"Wouldn't you like to know, *Johnny*? OK, the best description I can give you 
that *you'll* 
understand is that we *mingle* if you will, and, umm, exchange and release a lot 
of energy. But the 
real difference is that we view sex quite differently from you. It's not the 
intimate act it is with 
humans, and it doesn't entail the same vulnerability. It's more playful. Where 
the real intimacy and 
vulnerability comes in is joining minds." 


"Joining minds is something we do with an individual we feel particularly close 
to. It's altogether on a 
different level than our everyday telepathic communication. I'll describe it as 
best I can. When we 
communicate telepathically, even though we may be able to *read* every layer of 
each other's minds, 
we're still essentially on the outside, looking in. We retain our separate 
identities. Joining minds 
involves a temporary merging of two individuals into one. It's a kind of 
intimacy and vulnerability a 
human can't begin to imagine. We surrender ourselves completely to each other. 
We literally cease to 
exist as separate individuals, and our minds . . . well . . . fuse, merge, 
blend, coalesce, intermingle, 
however you'd like to imagine it. We become one being and share . . . 
everything. We see as if with one 
pair of eyes." Q's voice was dreamy and abstracted, as he tried to evoke the 
experience. Then his tone 
of voice shifted. "And it's scary as hell, Picard. But it's . . . well, it's 
indescribable. It's like being 
reborn. It doesn't mean that you're committed to that individual forever or 
anything, but it's a way that 
we express a very, very, very profound level of trust and communion that we're 
feeling at that 
particular time. We're pretty mercurial, and our feelings often change, but 
there are times when two 
individuals are so--how would you say it?--in tune that they're willing to risk 
that level of intimacy. 
It's actually a fairly rare event for us; sex is much less threatening if 
nowhere near as satisfying." 


"Yet, you proposed this to me, I remember." said Picard slowly and thoughtfully. 


"Well, I meant it, I think. I don't know if you can handle it, but I can always 
put you back together if 
you're overwhelmed. There is not another being in the universe that I have ever 
felt more desire to join 
minds with than you. You're so much a part of me that our separateness 
frustrates the hell out of me. 
But I thought it was perhaps too much to ask of you, so I kept my desires to 
myself." 


"I'm intrigued, Q," said Picard, his brow furrowed in thought. "In fact, I'm 
very intrigued. The idea of 
it is very intimidating, but it's overwhelmingly enticing at the same time--to 
merge with *your* mind, 
to *know* you on that level. On the one hand, I feel that there is so much that 
binds us, that we have in 
common, that we share; on the other hand you seem so overwhelmingly alien to me 
that I can't begin to 
understand you. We've been through so much that I find the barriers that 
separate us frustrating as 
well. This *is* something I feel ready for. Q, I want to try this." 


Q was both moved and surprised, but he said cautiously. "I've never done this 
with a mortal before . . ." 


"Don't you mean a *mere* mortal?" interrupted Picard. 


"That's right. He *can* learn! For all I know you might be so absorbed that you 
forget to keep breathing 
or keep your heart beating." 


"You can revive me, remember?" 


"Good point. A question, Jean-Luc--are you scared?" 


"Yes," replied Picard softly. 


"Good. You should be. If you'd said you weren't, then I would have known you 
didn't have the faintest 
idea what you were getting into. Now I know you have an inkling at least. I have 
to warn you--it can be 
overwhelming. In fact it's supposed to be. If you can, just go with it. If you 
can't take it though, you can 
always, if you'll excuse the metaphor, pull out." 


"You have a way with words, Q," remarked Picard. 


"This isn't going to be like anything you've every experienced, Jean-Luc. It's 
so far beyond any human 
interpersonal connection that you can't possibly have any context to imagine it. 
And it's entirely 
different from any experiences you may have had with telepathy or even having 
your mind taken over. 
When that happened, you were still in there struggling to get out. What I'm 
talking about is losing your 
self, your identity entirely. You cease to be yourself, and you merge with the 
other person. The closest 
thing you've experienced to it is a Vulcan mind-meld; it's similar, but it's not 
really like that either. 
There you have two individuals joined but retaining separate identities, 
*exchanging* thoughts and 
emotions. You think and feel what the other thinks and feels, but you're still 
yourself. When we join 
minds, there's no transfer going on; you simply are *one* being." 


"I understand. No, I don't understand. But I want to." 


Q smiled, lifted Picard's hand to his lips, and said softly, "You are truly the 
most remarkable individual 
I have ever met throughout all the eons of my existence. Je t'aime." 


"Je t'aime aussi," said Picard, pressing Q's hand. 


"OK," said Q. "Lie down. You're going to be much too engrossed to have any 
control over your body." 
Picard complied, and Q disengaged his hand from Picard's, slid off the couch and 
sat down on the floor, 
his back against the couch, explaining, "This is an entirely mental experience. 
Physical contact would 
only interfere." 


"What do I do?" asked Picard. 


"Well, first you relax and do whatever you need to do to block out everything 
else and concentrate. I'll 
know when you're ready. Then we, and it sounds tricky, but it really isn't, 
simultaneously open our 
minds as much as possible to each other and reach as deeply as we can into each 
other's minds. 
Somewhere along the way, we actually begin to merge. It doesn't happen 
instantaneously." 


"OK," said Picard, "I'm ready." 


He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, clearing his mind and relaxing as much 
as he could into a state 
of receptivity, opening his mind to allow his companion the fullest possible 
access. Then he began 
probing deeply into Q's mind as he had done before but without blocking anything 
out. As if his mind was 
a container being slowly filled up, he felt Q's knowledge, memories, 
experiences, feelings and thoughts 
pouring steadily into him. At the same time he felt completely exposed; he could 
feel Q's powerful 
presence exploring every layer of his consciousness, absorbing secrets and 
desires he had never 
confessed to anyone, viewing childhood experiences, reliving crises he had faced 
in command, and fully 
apprehending all the conflicting feelings that made him who he was--the fears 
and self-doubt as well as 
the arrogance and confidence, the deep-rooted desire to do right and the 
anguished frustration at his 
failures. Picard had been unconscious when Q had reconstructed his mind and 
identity after he 
surrendered the powers back; this was the first time he had felt himself so 
totally exposed. 


For a while Picard felt as if he were viewing two parallel tracks, his own mind 
filling with the content 
of Q's and Q absorbing his consciousness in its entirety. Gradually, the two 
sensations began to merge; 
he was beginning to be unable to distinguish between his own thoughts and Q's, 
his own feelings and 
memories and experiences and those of his companion's. A wave of panic washed 
through him as he felt 
his identity slipping, being swallowed by a much more powerful consciousness. He 
was beginning to 
forget who he was. He was lost, assaulted by an overwhelming barrage of hundreds 
and hundreds of 
years' worth of memories and devastatingly intense emotions--a pervasive ennui 
combined with 
restlessness and a cynical despair, an acute and irresistable desire for 
attention, a childishly sadistic 
satisfaction in the sufferings of others, a defiant rebelliousness, and a 
profound, crushing loneliness, an 
utter conviction of never being able to belong. At he same time, he sensed a 
conjunction of newer, 
rawer feelings about someone--himself? (whoever he was, he couldn't remember)--
an intense and 
surprising interest in something outside the self, a yearning for approval mixed 
with a sadistic desire 
to conquer, a growing affection mixed with exasperation, a compulsive urge to 
dominate mixed with a 
wistful impulse to surrender, a triumphant exultation over the other's errors 
mixed with a genuine 
wish to educate and guide, the proprietary pride of a parent toward a child, of 
a teacher toward a 
beloved pupil, of a mentor toward a successful proteg* mixed with irritation, 
frustration, and 
impatience, attraction, resentment, embarrassment, fascination, amusement, 
anger, desire, a 
delighted recognition of a soulmate, longing and more longing, and a growing, 
deepening love. He saw 
himself but it was not like looking in a mirror; he saw himself entirely through 
Q's eyes, actually felt 
the impact his looks, his voice, his personality, his presence, his aura of 
controlled passion and 
contained energy had on another. He would have been utterly embarrassed at the 
unabashed admiration 
he sensed toward himself except that he didn't retain enough of himself to be 
embarrassed. 


It was growing harder to distinguish who was feeling what. Converging on his 
apprehension of Q's 
feelings *about* him were all of the feelings Q provoked *in* him: fury, fear, 
hostility, contempt, 
irritation, impatience, perplexity, self-doubt, curiosity, wonder, gratitude, 
competitiveness, 
friendship, intimidation, fascination, recognition, kinship, and love as well. 
His own memories and those 
of his companion were becoming indistinguishable. He had been born in France in 
the year 2305, he had 
lived centuries, he had commanded starships, he had seen every wonder the galaxy 
had to offer, he had 
caused suffering and had done good, he had saved lives and been responsible for 
the loss of others, he 
had helped ensure the survival of an entire species, he had been put on trial by 
a godlike being, and he 
had prevented a man from committing a crime that would have shattered his soul. 
His own identity was 
utterly absorbed in Q's. The feelings, experiences, ideas, and knowledge 
sweeping through him had 
become a torrent, and he had lost himself, he didn't know who he was, and he was 
drowning . . . 
overwhelmed . . . engulfed . . . annihilated . . . spiralling away into . . . 


a new birth. He? they? it? Out of the annihilation of two identities a new one 
emerged. This identity had 
both Q's impulsiveness and Picard's discipline, Q's restlessness and Picard's 
ambition, Q's flamboyance 
and Picard's reserve, Q's vast knowledge and Picard's accumulated wisdom, Q's 
mocking sarcasm and 
Picard's dry wit; it had an incisive intelligence, a wide-ranging imagination, 
an arrogant self-
confidence, vulnerabilities, doubts, needs, and desires. The two original 
identities comprising this new 
one no longer complemented and mirrored each other; they were one. This new 
identity had compiled 
hundreds of years worth of sights and experiences, scientific knowledge and 
metaphysical 
understanding, but its perspective on all of that accumulated information was 
one of exaltation and 
wonder. He? they? mentally explored the spatial and temporal fabric of the 
universe, feeling neither 
jaded nor cynical but utterly struck with awe. 


When he later tried to find words to describe the experience, trying to make a 
personal log, Picard was 
frustrated. His usual verbal facility failed him. How to describe the conviction 
that he was no longer 
himself but one with Q, a new being comprised of the two of them? How to 
describe the influx of all of 
Q's knowledge and experiences, which as part of this combined being he actually 
understood? How to 
describe the terrifying but ultimately delicious surrender of self in order to 
merge absolutely with 
another? How to describe the intimacy (such a feeble word) of mutually sharing 
every iota of one's 
being with another, the exhilaration of unconditional vulnerability and mutual 
exposure? How to 
describe the awe and joy of truly joining with another, dissolving all the 
barriers of separation? And 
how to describe the realization of the depths of Q's feelings for him and his 
own growing reciprocation 
of them? And finally how to describe the heartbreak of withdrawal, the 
resumption of two separate 
identities? 


After what seemed like days, weeks of exploring the universe as well as the 
memories and emotions of 
their coalesced mind (although it was only an hour), developing an understanding 
of each other that was 
unparalleled in any human interactions, it was necessary to draw apart. This was 
somewhat trickier 
than joining was; as the fused mind began to separate into two, a wave of 
unutterable sadness washed 
through both of them. Individually each of them began to feel that same 
sickening, spiralling loss of self 
they had experienced before, but the self they were losing was the joined self, 
and in time they each 
emerged from the dizzying, overwhelming process their separate selves again. 
When Picard first 
emerged from the trance he had been in and remembered who he was, the first 
sensation he registered 
was tears trickling down his face. He opened his eyes to see Q looking at him, 
his eyes wide and 
glistening as well. 


Picard couldn't speak, but Q murmured softly in a choked voice, "You really 
haven't lost me, Jean-Luc; 
it just feels like it right now. This will pass, but the exhilaration of what 
we've shared will always be 
part of both of us." 


Picard nodded, still too filled with emotion to trust himself to speak. He 
extended his hands slightly 
toward Q, whispering only "Please," and Q instantly joined him on the couch. He 
bent over, joining 
Picard in an embrace, and they remained in that pose for quite some time. 


When he was able to talk, Picard whispered, "What I . . . we . . . saw and felt, 
it was so miraculous, so 
wondrous, but it's slipping away, I'm losing it all, I'm already forgetting it." 


"I know," murmured Q gently, lightly tracing his companion's cheekbone and 
jawline with one finger. 
"It's just too much for you to retain. Your mind wasn't designed to hold so 
much. But you will remember 
what you need to remember. A lot of the knowledge and memories are buried deep 
within your mind, but 
when you need them to guide you or sustain you, they will emerge. Trust me." 


"I do. Unreservedly." 


* * * 


The next morning Picard awoke in bed, smiling. He stretched luxuriously, feeling 
far more relaxed and 
elated than he usually allowed himself to feel, then noticed Q perched on the 
edge of his bed, arms 
folded and grinning. "Good morning, love of my life." 


"Good morning, Q. What are you grinning about?" 


"You, of course. I like watching you stretch like that. It definitely shows you 
off to advantage." 


Picard laughed. "If I didn't know you as well as I do now, I would accuse you of 
objectifying me." 


"Well, I am, just as all the women and several of the men on this ship do. But 
that's only a small 
component of my feelings for you. How much do you remember?" 


"Quite a bit, actually. Not a lot of details; I don't understand the workings of 
the universe nearly so 
well as I did when we were joined, but I remember a lot. I couldn't begin to 
describe the sensation, but 
you know what I was feeling as well as I do. Thank you, mon ami." 


"It was my pleasure, mon Capitaine." 
  


Chapter 18 


With a flash of light, two male figures appeared on a ledge, near the top of a 
mountain on a remote 
planet in the far reaches of the galaxy. One of them felt mind-boggling rush of 
cold for a moment, but 
that was immediately replaced by a cocoon of warmth as a large shimmering 
blanket materialized and 
wrapped itself around him. 


"Welcome to my parlor, mon Capitaine. Would you care to have a seat?" 


The men sat down next to each other, knees drawn up. "Mind if I share your 
blanket, Jean-Luc? I don't 
need it, of course, and in fact, I could keep you warm without it, but I like 
the idea. This is our last date 
for a while; I'd like to make the most of it." Wordlessly, Picard extended the 
blanket, and Q drew next 
him so that their arms and knees were touching, the blanket around both their 
shoulders. Thus settled, 
Picard began to take in the spectacular light show spiralling in front of him. 


"The furnishings are a little primitive, I'm afraid, but I hope you like the 
view," remarked Q. 


"I . . . I'm completely awestruck. I've seen a great many things, but this just 
takes my breath away, Q. 
I have a dim memory of this sight from when we joined minds, but there was so 
much else going on I 
didn't register it very well. It is utterly beautiful, but that word seems so 
inadequate. Thank you," 
Picard finished simply. 


"The pleasure is all mine," replied the entity. "I've been wanting to bring you 
here for years, and you 
must know, you're the only one who's ever been here besides me." 


Picard looked wonderingly at Q's face. "I'm grateful, and I'm touched." 


The men lapsed into silence. Picard had become so comfortable with his 
companion, that there was often 
no need to talk. They simply sat absorbing each other's presence, like this, 
barely touching. Picard 
gazed in awe at the procession of lights and colors, at the same time beginning 
to be overwhelmed with 
a flood of emotion for the being beside him. Q basked in satisfaction, enjoying 
Picard's amazement. 
After many minutes, Q spoke, "I have to confess, much as I brought you here for 
your pleasure, I had a 
selfish motive as well. Seeing this," he gestured toward the sky, "with you, 
sharing you experiencing 
it for the first time, helps me recapture the wonder I felt the first time I saw 
it, centuries ago. It's 
feeling that I've almost entirely lost, unfortunately. That's one reason why 
joining minds with you was 
so extraordinary for me; seeing literally through your eyes enabled me to feel a 
kind of awe and 
reverence for what's out here that I'm no longer capable of. It's as if, as your 
poet Byron put it, 'never 
more on me / The freshness of the heart can fall like dew.'" 


"Byron," murmured Picard thoughtfully. "*That's* who you look like; I've seen 
portraits of him." 


"Gee, what an astonishing coincidence," muttered Q sarcastically. "I love you, 
but you're such a 
hopeless dunderhead," he added in a tone that mingled both affection and 
exasperation. "Did it ever 
occur to you that I might have *selected* the form in which I chose to appear to 
you mortals?" 


"Well, it does make sense, I'll admit," returned Picard. "At least in terms of 
the image he projected. 
His misanthropy and defiance, his cynicism and disillusionment, his outlaw 
stance . . ." 


"His sexual versatility," added Q with a wink, "but I have far better taste than 
he did. He went for 
much younger men, boys really. Waste of time as far as I'm concerned." 


Anxious to change the subject, Picard turned his attention back to the view. 
"You'll have to forgive my 
usual obtuseness, but how can you, Byronic world-weariness notwithstanding, take 
*that* for 
granted?" 


"Oh Jean-Luc, will you ever get it? I can *create* something like that if I 
want. This is still special to 
me, because it is something I discovered, as if it was created just for me, but 
I still can't feel the awe 
and joy that I sense in you. I can share in *your* feelings, and I'm infinitely 
grateful for that, but I'm 
not capable of feeling that way on my own." 


"So, we lowly humans do have some advantages you don't, eh?" 


"Hard to believe, but true. Only you're so lunkheaded, you don't have the 
capacity to appreciate what 
you have. You keep trying to be more like us, not realizing what you will 
eventually lose." 


Both men smiled. They had had this conversation many times before, and Q's 
impatience at human 
limitations and Jean-Luc's strenuous defense of his own species had long become 
a form of affectionate 
teasing for them, instead of the life-or-death confrontation it had been 
previously. 


Picard was immediately distracted by yet another wonder unfolding before him. A 
meteor shower was 
spinning flashes of light across his field of vision. He had never seen a meteor 
shower from that 
perspective before, and it was awe-inspiring. When he could speak again, he 
said, "When I was a child, I 
used to watch shooting stars, as we called them. I knew, of course, that it was 
a meteor shower, and I 
always hoped I would find a meteor fragment; it seemed if I did, I would hold 
the secrets of the 
universe in my hand. I never found one though." 


"Would you like one now?" Q opened his hand, palm up, and a glowing object 
materialized upon it. 


"Careful, it's hot." 


"I know that, Q, I'm not a child, you know." Picard's momentary irritation 
dissolved. "It's beautiful." 


The men watched it glow for a few minutes, then Q blew on the meteor fragment 
gently until it cooled, 
then handed it to his companion. "For you, a souvenir." He smiled. 


Picard clutched his gift tightly in his hand. "Well, I don't know if I'm holding 
the secrets of the universe, 
but I do know I'm holding something unimaginably precious to me. You once told 
me I was an impossible 
person to buy a gift for, but you seem to have figured out the right kind of 
gift." 


Q smiled ruefully, remembering the circumstance of that earlier remark. "I'm 
sorry, Jean-Luc, I 
couldn't resist the impulse to force you into those situations, like the 
Sherwood Forest game. I guess I 
was just trying to get your attention, but I didn't have a clue, for all my 
omniscience, of how to go 
about it the right way." 


Picard slipped the meteor fragment into his pocket. Gesturing at the view before 
him, he explained, 
"This is utterly spectacular. I'll be forever grateful for your showing it to 
me. You can strike me with 
awe with demonstrations of your power. But, ultimately, it's not your immense 
power that makes this 
experience so meaningful to me; it's the company. I can't help being overwhelmed 
and intimidated by 
what you can *do*, but that's not how you've won my trust and affection, my 
friend. It's the feeling 
that prompted you to bring me here that really moves me. It's the way you've 
allowed yourself to be 
open and vulnerable with me, despite your omnipotence. And I know how hard that 
was for you, and that 
made even more of an impression on me. I'm still so awestruck and flattered and 
grateful that you 
wanted to join with me as we did." 


"I guess in matters of the heart, I'm the obtuse one. It certainly took me a 
long time to figure that out, 
and I'm still not entirely comfortable with it. Vulnerability is not a state I'm 
used to. Did you notice 
after we joined minds, both of us felt the need to put some distance between us 
for a few days? Even 
after that I fall into my habit of thinking of vulnerability as something to 
exploit in you, not to allow in 
myself. But I may be trying to get used to it in more ways than you think." 


"What do you mean, Q?" 


Q replied quietly, with complete seriousness and sincerity. "I'm thinking of 
giving it all up, not 
immediately, of course, but eventually." 


"What? I don't understand." 


"My omnipotence. My immortality. To become human and eventually . . . to die." Q 
continued musing, 
"Maybe I'll do it when you retire--I'll buy myself a little French villa next 
door to you, plant a garden, 
and drop in for a glass of wine and some stimulating conversation in the 
evenings. You won't be able to 
get rid of me. Then again, on the other hand, I may be too much of a coward. I 
am thinking about it, but I 
don't have any real conviction that I actually will." 


Picard was both shocked and moved. "Why are you thinking about it at all? Do you 
understand what 
you're saying?" 


"Of course, I understand. That's why I haven't entirely made up my mind. The 
idea terrifies me--I like 
to dominate, I like to be in control, completely without effort. I'm used to 
wielding an immense amount 
of power, and I have to decide if I can live without that, if I can accept what 
to me would be a state of 
utter helplessness. But I'm seriously considering it. Look at this private light 
show of mine. I know it's 
spectacular, but I can't feel it. Aside from the fact that I could *create* it, 
I know it will still be here 
in thousands of years, as will I. I have no reason to make any given visit to 
this place significant, 
because I know I can always come back. So I take it for granted. 


Do you have any idea what my existence was like before I encountered you? I was 
lonely and bored 
almost beyond the point of my sanity. Relationships with my own kind were no 
solution; they always 
end more or less bitterly. There was no one I could stand for *eternity*. So 
what did I spend my time 
doing? Inflicting pain and suffering on beings less powerful than myself just to 
get a feeling that I was 
alive. I tried inflicting pain on myself too--just to get some kind of sensation 
that really rocked me. 
Nothing worked. There was this great gaping void in me, a result of the fact 
that nothing meant anything 
to me because there was nothing I didn't take for granted. You, Jean-Luc Picard, 
are the only thing in 
my existence that I have any real sense of urgency and significance and passion 
and intense feeling 
about, and that is because you're mortal. I can't take you for granted because I 
know I will lose you, and 
that makes you unimaginably precious to me. I could make you immortal, but I 
don't think that's what 
you want." 


"No, you're right. After all, it was you who reminded me, and I quote, 'how 
important each moment 
must be.' Without that sense of urgency, I could no longer be the person I am." 


"Precisely. I'm alive and engaged when I'm with you in a way that I'm not in any 
other aspect of my 
existence. No matter what I do outside of my feelings for you, whether good or 
ill, I get bored with it. 
My power is a crutch to me; I didn't earn it, I didn't do anything to merit it. 
It's just what I've depended 
on to keep my ego inflated, to convice myself of my own superiority. Whatever 
power you have, you 
worked for and proved yourself. But I'm just like one of those bloated 19th 
century European 
aristocrats from your history. I'm a parasite; I didn't live off the work of 
others, I lived vicariously 
off the emotions of others. When I inflicted pain on mortal beings, forcing them 
to confront their own 
mortality, I got a temporary artificial thrill, witnessing the spectacle of a 
feeling I would never have 
myself. At the same time I was trying to convince myself of my own superiority 
by demonstrating just 
how much power I could wield, trying to bolster my sense of myself by 
victimizing those less powerful. 
Guinan understood; she tried to explain to me once why I was doing what I did, 
and, naturally, I didn't 
listen. I lost my temper and went on a rampage. She was barely able to stop me, 
and I resented her 
ever since; you can understand why she didn't exactly greet me with glee upon 
our reunion. I'm 
terrified of giving it all up, really terrified, but perhaps I have to become 
mortal and vulnerable and 
limited so that what I do have acquires genuine meaning. I want to understand 
what it means to see a 
world in a grain of sand, to have to stretch my imagination to do so, instead of 
simply having eternity 
effortlessly at my grasp. I used to berate you because you weren't turning 
yourself into a mirror of 
me, because you weren't making these quantum leaps to *my* exalted level. For so 
long I was 
frustrated that you were not becoming more like *me*, when I finally realized 
that, whether I keep my 
powers or give them up, I needed to become more like *you*." 


Picard's eyes were filled with tears. He was overwhelmed with emotion, and could 
only murmur, "Q, I 
hope you understand what you mean to me, and how much what you've said means to 
me. But I feel that 
I know you well enough know to presume to offer advice, and I worry that you 
would be sacrificing too 
much of what constitutes yourself." 


"That may be. I certainly haven't decided one way or another." 


"There are so many benefits you could confer *with* those powers. I understand 
the temptation to go 
way too far, but even in a limited fashion, you could be a real force for good 
as you have for us." 


"You're right, of course, but helping out you mortals has never appealed to me 
very much. I honestly 
don't find most mortals interesting enough for me to expend even the minimal 
effort to make their lives 
better. Your whole species would have been eliminated by now if I hadn't taken a 
personal interest in 
*you*, Picard. I just can't see myself spreading goodness and light through the 
galaxy." 


"You've got a point there," responded Picard drily. "How will you decide?" 


"I don't know. It's a tossup, right now. I'm certainly not giving any powers up 
while you're still roaming 
around the galaxy sticking your nose where it shouldn't be and getting yourself 
in trouble. You may be 
able to get along without me most of the time, but the time will come when 
you're gonna need me. 
Remember, I have a mandate to keep an eye on you. But maybe someday, if you ever 
do settle down, I'll 
consider it. Being around you keeps reminding me how much I'm missing. 
Omnipotence isn't everything 
it's cracked up to be." 


Picard laughed. "That's the last thing I would have expected to hear from you, 
but I certainly shouldn't 
expect an omnipotent and immortal entity to be any more consistent than the rest 
of us." 


"'A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds,' or as another one of 
your writers from Earth, 
one of my personal favorites, put it, 'Do I contradict myself? / Very well then 
I contradict myself, / (I 
am large, I contain multitudes.)'" 


"That you most certainly do, my friend," said Picard laughing, but his tone 
quickly turned more 
serious. "And getting to know those multitudes is a privilege for which I'm 
utterly grateful. 
Aggravating as you are, I *will* miss you. 


"And I you. But for now, you'd better get your requests in while you can, Jean-
Luc. Is there anything 
you want before I go? Name it. You've given me life, and I owe you." 


"Well Q, I do have a request," said Picard. 


"I aim to please, mon Capitaine." 


"Kiss me, Q." 


"Why, Jean-Luc--I thought you'd *never* ask." 
  


Epilog

 
//In the year 2405, Q reclined upon a ledge near a mountain top on what he had 
come to think of as his 
own personal planet. He had barely moved in the past several years except to 
drop in on Picard 
occasionally; as Picard aged, they had drifted further and further apart. Q 
spent much of his time 
wondering if he should have given up his immortality as he had considered doing, 
but he suspected that 
even if he had aged along with Picard, they would have gotten on each others' 
nerves after a while. And 
Q had found Picard's physical aging terrifying. Picard's mind was as acute as 
ever, but the thought of 
allowing himself to undergo the aging process he was observing in his beloved 
seemed unimaginable to 
him. He was used to transcending time, not being subject to it. That was all 
very well for Q, but it did 
not make him a very suitable companion for an elderly man. So he would visit on 
occasion, and 
sometimes take Picard on brief jaunts around the galaxy, but he never overstayed 
his welcome. He had 
on occasion gone back to different points in the past, when Picard was younger, 
and had relived those 
moments, but he had to be extraordinarily careful not to change anything. He 
knew that Picard would 
not approve of having his life tampered with in that fashion. Although Picard's 
retirement seemed 
unimaginably dreary to an eternally energetic and restless entity like himself, 
he knew that Picard was 
satisfied with things exactly as they were. He had accomplished more than anyone 
could ask for, and he 
was making good use of his retirement to spend time with those who were 
important to him. But Q felt 
increasingly disconnected from him. Their mental link was taking up a smaller 
and smaller portion of 
their respective minds, dwindling with disuse.// 


//Hardly watching the light show that had almost entirely ceased to charm him, 
he suddenly became 
aware of something approaching. He sat up and began mentally exploring, only to 
discover a starship 
heading toward his planet. Well, that was too much really. The last thing he 
needed was a group of 
humans prying around with their primitive instruments and narrow concerns. If 
they were exploring 
this far out, the next thing he knew there'd be a colony here. Q certainly 
wasn't going to allow that. His 
mood changed slightly when he observed, much to his amusement, that the ship had 
a familiar name, if 
different designation: USS Enterprise NCC-1701 F. //Starfleet certainly has a 
sentimental attachment 
to that name//, he thought to himself. //They're going to go through the whole 
alphabet pretty soon if 
they keep blowing them up.// Sighing at human foibles, he decided to probe 
further, actually somewhat 
relieved to have a diversion from his depression.// 


//Without having to leave his mountain top, Q could easily examine the interior 
of the approaching ship. 
Quickly absorbing the computer's records, he noted that the Captain was one 
Helen Reilly, aged 40, who 
had a string of distinctions and commendations. According to reports of 
superiors, she was known for 
courage and resourcefulness . . . as well as a legendary temper. Q began to 
observe her in action on the 
bridge, duly impressed by her tall, lean figure, her short, curly, reddish hair 
and pale skin, her 
strikingly beautiful, angular face with cheekbones to die for, and the intense, 
withering, penetrating 
stare that dismayed anyone who was so unfortunate to be the object of it. She 
had Picard's confidence 
and determination, but operated in an entirely different style, snapping 
commands sharply, as if 
impatient they hadn't been anticipated, and punctuating reprimands with an 
impressive command of 
profanity when her commands weren't executed precisely according to her 
standards. Hearing her 
dress down a crewmember with a string of creative aspersions on her unfortunate 
victim's 
intelligence, Q smiled. Maybe it was a good thing he had kept his powers and 
immortality after all. He 
continued watching as she retired to her ready room, where he witnessed an 
altogether different side 
of her character as she cuddled and cooed to a pet cat.// 


////Well, Captain Helen Reilly certainly thinks highly of herself//, Q 
reflected. //Perhaps it's time to 
see if she's justified in that belief.// Having determined that the Enterprise 
definitely was on course 
toward his planet, Q busied himself with devising a welcome Captain Reilly and 
her crew would not soon 
forget. One fact he had noted in her records was that she insisted on leading 
most away missions 
herself, confident that her resourcefulness and ingenuity were wasted if she 
remained on the ship. Her 
promotion to Captain had resulted from the daring leadership she had exhibited 
on one particularly 
harrowing away mission, and she had accepted the promotion contingent on being 
allowed to do what she 
did best, which was to be where the action was.// 


//Q didn't have much time, so he combined features of several of the most 
threatening humanoid races 
of the galaxy to comprise the members of his welcoming committee; they were as 
tall as Nausicaans, 
with impressive facial ridges and short, bristling hair, and they had the 
strength and speed of Klingons. 
Deciding to make things a little challenging, he provided them with weapons 
slightly more advanced than 
the Federation's latest hand-held phasers. Finding a convenient vantage point, 
he waited, while the 
Enterprise entered standard orbit. //I suppose I could just erect a sign reading 
'Private Property. No 
Trespassing. Violators will be vaporized,' but this should prove more 
entertaining//, he mused. //And 
I want to convince Captain Reilly that this planet is really unfit for further 
exploration.//// 


//As the away team beamed down, Q effortlessly diverted them to the location 
where he wanted them, 
simultaneously freezing all the ship's controls and sensors. //So much for the 
wonders of technology; 
it's so predictably unreliable//, he said to himself with a grin. After having 
been in a state of boredom 
and apathy for the past several years, he was quite happy to have a sense of 
purpose again. As soon as 
the away team materialized on the planet surface, they were ambushed by a large 
group of armed 
warriors, who instantly fired on and stunned two crew members. Reilly was the 
fastest draw in 
Starfleet, and she fired on the closest attacker, but had very little effect. 
"Level 3, heavy stun, NOW!" 
she exclaimed, matching actions to words. Within seconds she had fired on and 
stunned three of the 
attackers. The rest of the away team was similarly occupied.// 


//Q maneuvered the attackers so that Reilly was surrounded by a group of three 
and isolated from her 
crew. One of the attackers fired a low level beam directly at Reilly's wrist, 
which caused her phaser to 
go flying out of her hand. The group converged on her, clearly intending to 
capture rather than kill her. 
Ignoring the pain in her wrist, Reilly whirled and with a spinning kick she 
dislodged the weapon from the 
nearest attacker's hand, leaving him howling in pain as he grabbed his arm. 
Sensing another 
immediately behind her, she drove her elbow into his stomach with such force 
that the watching Q 
winced in sympathy and clutched his stomach. She was impressively fast, and as 
the elbowed attacker 
staggered backward, Reilly spun around and snatched the weapon out of his loose 
fingers while 
delivering a devastatingly well-aimed kick to a sensitive portion of his 
anatomy. Q hadn't been original 
enough to include interesting anatomical variations in his creations, so 
Reilly's intuition was accurate. 
Q inhaled sharply and bit his lower lip. He had maintained the form of a human 
male long enough to 
imagine what that kick must have felt like, and it wasn't pleasant. Almost 
without stopping Reilly 
turned on the third of her attackers, smashing him in the head with the weapon 
as he bore down upon 
her, then fired upon the first attacker who had approached her. Within a matter 
of minutes she had 
downed several of Q's creations, and her crew had taken care of the rest. She 
walked over and 
retrieved her own phaser, which she was fond of, from the ground and then, 
wiping her hands briskly 
together in satisfaction, she remarked, "Well, this certainly isn't a hospitable 
planet."// 


//In a massive flash of light, the bodies of the fallen attackers vanished. In 
another flash, Reilly's crew 
had been whisked up to the Enterprise, leaving only the Captain remaining on the 
planet with her as-
yet-unseen observer. Reilly folded her arms, smiled, and remarked in a casual 
tone, "I should have 
known it was you. I was wondering if you'd ever make an appearance."// 


//"Moi?" returned a disembodied, resonating, hollow voice.// 


//"Yeah, you. I know your MO, Q. It *is* Q isn't it? I suppose you've 
immobilized my ship, too."// 


//"Of course," replied the echoing voice, "God is in the details. How do you 
know who I am?"// 


//Reilly idly wandered over to a rock, where she sat down, stretched out her 
legs, crossed her ankles, 
took out her phaser, and proceeded to flip it in the air and catch it 
repeatedly, looking perfectly relaxed 
and a little bored.// 


//"Aren't you worried about dropping that?" asked the voice. "I've heard they 
overload."// 


//"I've never dropped one yet," replied Reilly, tossing the phaser higher in the 
air and catching it with 
a backhanded catch. "And they've improved the technology. They're much safer. 
Are you interested in 
the design specifications?"// 


//"Spare me; you humans are going to remain as backward as ever if you don't 
outgrow your 
unwarranted faith in technology. But what I do want to know is how you know who 
I am."// 


//Reilly yawned and stretched, then returned to flipping and catching the 
phaser. "Well, conversing 
with disembodied voices really doesn't do a whole lot for me. Why don't you show 
yourself?"// 


//Q appeared in as blinding a blaze of light that he could muster. He had 
resumed wearing his favorite 
Starfleet uniform, and he bowed grandly, with an ironic smile and eyes that were 
sparkling with 
amusement. "Q, omnipotent superbeing and Starfleet officer manque, at your 
service," he announced 
with a rare touch of self-deprecating humor.// 


//Reilly stopped flipping the phaser, but did not otherwise shift her relaxed 
pose, except to look Q up 
and down with a frankly appraising gaze. Nodding approvingly with a smile and 
almost as if talking to 
herself, she remarked, "I don't know why Picard objected to your wearing a 
Starfleet uniform. The 
colors are *you*."// 


//Q looked at her sharply. His air of cool mockery and arrogance vanished, and 
his face softened. 
"Picard?" he murmured. "You know Picard?"// 


//Reilly nodded, "Yes, he told me a lot about you." // 


//Q noticed the slightest of shivers pass through her body. "I'm sorry!" he 
exclaimed. "You must be 
freezing. It's been so long since I've dealt with humans, I forgot about 
temperature." He quickly warmed 
the air around where Reilly sat.// 


//"You know, I'd love to chat, but I'd like to tell my crew I'm OK, and really 
don't you think we'd be 
more comfortable on the ship?"// 


//"You're inviting me on board the Enterprise? That's a new one on me. I always 
had to invite myself 
before."// 


//Reilly jumped to her feet, walked up to Q, and looked him directly in the eye. 
"Frankly, I've been 
intrigued about you ever since I read about you at the Academy and heard about 
you from Picard. I was 
hoping we might attract your attention."// 


//"You're full of surprises, Captain. Most humanoids want nothing to do with me. 
By the way, I'd like 
to apologize for giving you such a hard time on your arrival. I just couldn't 
resist."// 


//"Well, it wasn't really a hard time, frankly."// 


//"I could arrange for a more challenging test, if you desire!" snapped Q.// 


//"I'll take a raincheck. I'd rather get to know you better."// 


//Q smiled, snapped his fingers, and teleported himself and Reilly to her 
quarters.// 


//"Welcome aboard. I would like to check in with my crew. And I'd appreciate it 
if you'd release my 
ship."// 


//Q nodded and flipped his hand palm upward, with fingers outstretched. "She's 
all yours."// 


//"Thanks." Reilly conversed briefly with her first officer, assuring him that 
she was fine, then 
turned back to Q.// 


//"I'd like to ask you a favor, Captain. I've come to think of that planet as my 
personal retreat. It's the 
closest thing to a home I have. I'd just as soon not have ships prying 
around."// 


//"No problem. I'll file a report that the planet was inhabited by an entity 
that would prefer to be left 
alone, and declare it off limits."// 


//Q was still so preoccupied with the news that Reilly knew Picard, he didn't 
notice until that point that 
she had several scrapes and bruises on her face and arms, and her uniform was 
ripped and streaked 
with dirt. "Where are my manners? Allow me," he exlaimed, waving his hand up and 
down in front of 
her, so that she was instantly cleaned up and healed.// 


//Reilly nodded, gestured toward an armchair, then walked over to the 
replicator. "Drink?"// 


//"No thanks, but help yourself." As soon as Q sat down, Reilly's cat wandered 
over, meowed 
purposefully, then jumped on his lap, turning around several times in circles, 
then settling down 
comfortably for a nap. //Is that my role in this universe, with all my powers, 
to give cats a place to 
sleep?// he wondered to himself.// 


//Armed with glass of wine, Reilly sat down on the sofa, and Q said 
thoughtfully, "I get it. The dates 
work out. You must have been a student of his at the Academy."// 


//"Very perspicacious of you. You should have been a private investigator. But 
of course you could 
have picked that out of my head."// 


//"Of course, but I didn't. One of the things I learned from him was that you 
humans are particularly 
touchy about the sanctity of your puny little minds, so I don't probe you 
gratuitously. But if I had a good 
reason, I would. Respecting others' privacy has never been my strong point."// 


//"So I've heard. Yes, I took several classes with him, and he took rather a 
fancy to me."// 


//"I'm not surprised. You would be quintessentially his type. He probably 
regrets not having met you 
when he was younger."// 


//She laughed, "Well, I looked up to him tremendously. We all did--his career 
was so legendary. But I 
was always pretty driven; I had the presumption to see myself following in his 
footsteps. I would walk 
with him after class, visit his office hours, things like that. He became my 
mentor and a good friend . . . 
and gave me hell in that quiet but deadly way of his when I didn't perform up to 
his expectations. I visit 
him whenever I make it back to Earth, which isn't very often, unfortunately. 
He's one of the few people 
I really miss."// 


//"Tell me about it," muttered Q. Then he smiled. "I just figured out why Jean-
Luc never told me about 
you. He probably wanted to keep me away from you."// 


//Reilly laughed, "yes, he's awfully protective of me, although, believe me, I 
can take care of myself. 
He'd say, 'I know he'd never harm me, but Q is unpredictable and capricious and 
a distraction you don't 
need.'"// 


//Q laughed, looking skyward, "You flatter me, Jean-Luc."// 


//"Well, actually, I think he was just trying to have you to himself. He talked 
about you a lot, and I was 
intrigued from the start, but whenever I asked to meet you, he refused. He did 
always say that he 
figured I'd run across you some day on my own, but he didn't want to be 
responsible for it. And here 
you are. I'm surprised you didn't find out about me in your own way, however."// 


//"Well, Jean-Luc has always had this thing about privacy. He learned to block 
off portions of his mind 
from casual probing; I can still get in if I make the effort, but not 
undetected. I've learned over the 
years that we get along better if I don't push him too much. We . . . ah . . . 
," Q sighed, "we haven't been 
as close since he returned to Earth. He still enjoys travelling and seeing new 
things; to him this galaxy 
is a never-ending source of wonder. He's never gotten jaded. But with every 
passing year, we grow 
more impatient with each other, so I limit my visits. I'm afraid the human aging 
process makes me 
uncomfortable. I wanted him to remain as he was when I first met him--God, he 
was glorious--and he 
gets irritated with the fact that I *don't* change, that I'm as self-absorbed 
and self-indulgent as ever, 
as he repeatedly scolds me." Q put his head in hands for a moment, then rapidly 
ran his fingers through 
his hair, trying to get a grip on himself. "I don't usually believe in regret, 
Captain, but I keep wondering 
whether I should have become mortal like him and grown old with him. I didn't 
have the courage to do it, 
but now I'll always wonder if I should have."// 


//"You could go back . . ."// 


//"Yes, I could, but he wouldn't approve. I used to be able to talk him into 
travelling with me in time, 
but he's gotten more and more stubborn about the sanctity of the god damned flow 
of history. He 
wouldn't want his own past altered by my inserting myself into it in such a 
sustained way. And I don't 
know if he would want me around anyway. Jean-Luc and I can hardly carry on a 
conversation without 
aggravating the hell out of each other, but Captain, you can't begin to imagine 
how much I still love 
him," Q finished quietly.// 


//"He loves you, too, you know, in his own way," said Reilly softly.// 


//"Would you like to go visit him one of these days? I'd love to see his 
reaction when we walk through 
the door."// 


//"You would. And I'd love to go. But I think he always expected I'd run across 
you eventually. 
Otherwise, why would he keep warning me about you?"// 


//"What kinds of things did he say about me?"// 


//Reilly gestured toward her head, "Wouldn't you get a better idea if you saw 
for yourself? You're 
welcome to look."// 


//"I'd appreciate that," said Q. "I'll try to keep out of whatever isn't my 
business." He closed his eyes, 
not that it was necessary for him to read her mind, but because her face was so 
distracting. He had 
thought he would never be attracted to anyone again after Picard, but he hadn't 
ever expected to meet 
another human who was so intriguing. He began gently probing Reilly's mind, 
seeing her, at the age of 
20, talking earnestly with her octogenarian professor, trying to prove herself 
worthy to follow in his 
footsteps and trying to learn as much as she could from his epic career. Q also 
noted the way she 
flirted with Picard and how pleased he was with her company. He murmured to 
Reilly, "He really 
enjoyed you. I'm glad; you mean a lot to him, and he deserves all the enjoyment 
he can get."// 


//Reilly nodded, and Q closed his eyes again and probed further, viewing all the 
occasions when Picard 
had talked to his young student about his omnipotent friend. Q was moved by how 
strong Picard's 
feelings for him still were, by Picard's gratitude for what Q was able to do for 
him, and by Picard's 
own confusion and soul-searching about their relationship. "Hearing" Picard 
reminisce about their times 
together in Reilly's memories, Q was overcome with emotion. For all the 
frustration and irritation and 
exasperation he knew Picard still felt toward him, there was a consistently 
strong current of love and 
affection and appreciation. The last time Picard had seen Reilly, two years ago, 
he had said, "I don't 
know if I'll ever truly understand just what he means to me, but whatever our 
differences, I do know 
that the bond between us has transfigured my life in a way for which I will be 
ever grateful."// 


//Q sighed to himself; it was a never-ending source of frustration to him that 
there was still such a 
barrier between himself and Picard. Any closeness they attained invariably 
compelled a new 
separation. The exhilaration of finding oneself so closely mirrored in another 
was inevitably 
accompanied by the infinite variety of irritations afforded by seeing one's 
flaws mirrored as well. Q 
knew he was lucky to have found someone who had allowed him to lower his many 
defenses, to shed 
some of his cynicism and really feel, but those feelings were acutely painful at 
times as well. When Q 
slowly blinked his eyes open, he noticed that Reilly was perched on the arm of 
his chair. She reached 
out, combed through his hair with her fingers several times, then traced the 
track of a tear with her 
thumb in a curve under his eye. Overcome by an intense desire for comfort and 
companionship, Q 
surprised himself by resting his head in Reilly's lap, while she softly stroked 
his hair. After a few 
minutes in this position, he looked up, dry-eyed and trying, albeit not very 
successfully, to muster his 
usual confident air. "I think I've got your number, Mr. Omnipotent Superbeing," 
she said gently, "You 
don't fool me for a minute."// 


//"Well, I have left myself wide open haven't I?" he admitted. He then captured 
her hand, and while 
tracing circles on the back of it with a finger, he continued in a harder tone, 
"But let me give you fair 
warning. Jean-Luc's right about me. I have the capacity to blow up in your face 
when you least expect 
it, and it's not something I can entirely control."// 


//"I have a lot of experience handling explosives," returned Reilly. "They're 
rather a hobby of 
mine."// 


//"Well, to be a hobby of yours would be a privilege and a pleasure, Captain."// 


//"I was hoping you'd see it that way." She grasped the front of his uniform 
shirt, pulling him toward 
her to bring his mouth to hers.// 


//After an extended kiss, Q drew back slightly, as a small white flag 
materialized in his hand. He 
waved it slightly, smiling, and announcing softly, "I surrender, Captain. Do 
with me what you will."// 


//"I accept your terms, Q. Come with me." She got up from the arm of the chair, 
her hand still 
grasping his shirt, and pulled him unresistingly into the bedroom.// 


//Later that night, lying awake as always, Q watched his sleeping companion, 
taking in every angle and 
curve and detail of her body. Even asleep, she seemed alert, her body taut, 
ready to wake up in an 
instant and spring purposefully toward whatever awaited her. //If anyone could 
teach me how to make 
the most of a mortal existence, she could//, he mused. //Maybe this time I 
should give it all up. . . . 
But, then again, maybe not. I certainly don't have to decide right this moment. 
The possibilities, 
apparently, are endless.//// 




The End 
  
  


Note: I wish to thank the breathtaking Sigourney Weaver (be still my beating 
heart . . . ) and the 
creators of the "Alien" series for inspiring the character of Helen Reilly.