This is an alternate story based on "Only Human" by Alara Rogers (aleph@netcom.com), although it isn't in her continuity. I got sufficiently obsessed by the story "Only Human" that I wrote an alternate set in this universe. Alara's permission has been secured for this. Also, this story contains sex, so if that sort of thing bothers you, you might want to skip out now. PropinQuity by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com); based on "Only Human" by Alara Rogers Naomi fidgeted in the formal receiving line, uncomfortable in the tight, scratchy clothing that Q had insisted was the only thing to wear to receive an admiral in. Of course, Q looked as cool and collected as if he were the one receiving homage instead of waiting to pay homage to someone else. She hoped he got a heat rash. Anderson stood next to them, fighting the urge to fidget. She wanted to start pacing, wanted to take something for her headache, and most definitely wanted to slap some sense into Q. Not that force worked better at persuading him to do something he didn't want to do than any other tactic. The conversation of a week ago started over again in her mind, from when Anderson had first told Q about Admiral Pelz's upcoming visit. "Transwarp? I can't believe you're bringing up *that* issue again. Even you can't be as dense as all that, Elly dear." Anderson resisted the urge to rub her temples. She'd momentarily considered just telling Q that transwarp was something he had to work on, but she knew better than that. The last time this issue had arisen, she had indeed handled the matter in that fashion, with near-disastrous results. Q had outright refused to work on transwarp, and when she had retaliated by removing Dr. Allen as a sign of how important this issue was, Q had deteriorated. He had gone on a three day hunger strike, culminating in a suicide attempt that had almost succeeded. If Anderson had not shown up at his quarters just then, about to intercede with Q and attempt to convince him, yet again, to work on transwarp, and found him at the crucial moment, Q would surely have died. Anderson had then been able to convince Admiral Pelz to back off, going through the proper channels, and pulling some strings to bring it about. Torturing a scientist to get him to reveal military secrets which he felt morally obligated to conceal was not standard Federation policy, and that was what they had done here. Anderson had thought the issue was dead. Apparently that was not so. Pelz was coming to visit the starbase to convince Q in person to concentrate on transwarp. If Pelz pulled it off, it would be an enormous coup for him, a personal triumph, since Q was known far and wide to be uncooperative. However, even Pelz, who was not only for his ruthlessness, but for his achievements in resolving numerous diplomatic conflicts, had a hope of pulling this one off. It was not an enterprise she would have encouraged, if her opinion had been asked. But of course, it had not. Admirals were not swayed by the opinions of mere commodores. And apparently, neither was Q. "It's a fact, Q. You will have to deal with it." "I'll say no. That's how I'll deal with it." Anderson snapped back to the present day with a jolt as the party they were waiting to receive finally arrived. She had warned Pelz that this wasn't a good idea, had done her best to yank on every string she had any hope of reaching, but it had done no good. Pelz was there, and she had to deal with him. Pelz was accompanied by several guards as well two well- dressed flunkies, wearing supercilious looks along with their starched and pressed uniforms. The admiral looked at Q, who was a good deal taller than himself, and did not appear at all intimidated. His glance slid off Q, as if to say, so what's the big deal?, and moved onto Naomi, standing at Q's side, dressed demurely, or as Q put it, 'Boring'. Commodore Anderson stepped forward. "Admiral Pelz. I'd like to welcome you to Starbase 56." Pelz nodded. "Commodore." Anderson turned to the party waiting, albeit reluctantly, to greet the admiral. "Admiral Pelz, this is Q. Q, Admiral Pelz." "Charmed, I'm sure," Q said sarcastically. Pelz nodded to Q, the half-nod of a duelist acknowledging his opponent. Anderson turned to Naomi. "And this is Dr. Naomi Allen, Q's..." Anderson struggled for a way to put it tactfully, realizing she probably should have just left the introduction at her name, "...assistant. Dr. Allen, Admiral Pelz." The admiral smiled barracudish at Naomi. "A fellow physicist, I presume?" Naomi shook her head. "I'm a programmer." "A programmer?" Pelz looked at her with a bit of mock confusion, his tone light and silky. "I wasn't aware Q specialized in computer programming." Naomi didn't quite get the point. "He doesn't." Pelz was far too couth to ask the obvious question, 'So what do you assist him *with*?'. He smiled at Naomi graciously, and waited for Anderson to make the next introduction. Anderson was bristling. She'd gotten his point and she was simultaneously upset at herself for having made the slip; and enraged at the admiral on Naomi's behalf, protective of her charge. She did the only tactful thing she could, stepping in and changing the topic. "The room reserved for our discussion is this way, admiral." Pelz nodded to his guards, then grandly allowed the commodore to lead him on. Q and Naomi were left to scuttle along behind like forgotten pets. Naomi was used to this kind of treatment, but Q was visibly annoyed at not being accorded the status of VIP. However, both followed Anderson and Pelz to the conference room. The admiral seated himself as soon as he was in the room, making no pretense at waiting for anyone else to make themselves comfortable. "Let me make myself clear, Q. You are here at the sufferance of Starfleet Command. And as long as your usefulness to us continues, you will be tolerated. But if you prove yourself to be intractable, then Starfleet will be more than willing to wash its hands of you." Q was indignant, both at the ignominious way he was forced to answer without being given a chance to settle himself with the proper pomp and dignity, as well as at the admiral's threats. "After all I've done for you people? You ungrateful wretches!" Pelz inclined his head slightly. "Let's look at what you've done, shall we?" He opened a rather formal data pad, and scrolled through it. "Two minor improvements in communications technology, and a contributing role in several minor advances in physics." He closed the pad with a snap, emphasizing his point. "Extremely impressive," Pelz said in an ironic tone of voice. Q fumed. "You're ignoring the value of my contributions..." Pelz smiled with shark-like predatoriness. "Yes, I suppose there is something I've overlooked." This list he recited from memory, ticking each point off against his fingers. "Fifteen people dead; 456 formal complaints, 140 of them from diplomatic envoys; one Ferengi merchant ship charged to this department's account; 126 attacks on this starbase, as well as three attacks on the Enterprise, with material damage to both assets; and 17 resignations from Starfleet, three of them due to nervous breakdowns suffered as a direct result of interaction with you, all 17 by fine officers with excellent records who cited you as the direct cause of their inability to ever work with Starfleet again." "If you're going to be petty," Q said waspishly, greatly angered by Pelz's manner and lack of appreciation for his sacrifices. "Petty?" Pelz said softly, with a great deal of menace behind his tone. Naomi paled, and looked at Q. She didn't know what to do. She certainly couldn't go up against the admiral, and, while Pelz was being a bastard, everything he'd said was perfectly true. What she did know was that Q was about to have a major fit all over the admiral if she didn't get him out of there. The signs were immistakable. Part of her wanted to drag Q out of there before he could tear the admiral into tiny shreds and thus ruin any chance of negotiating a successful compromise in this matter, but a small traitorous part of her wanted to see Q do it, and give Pelz what he deserved. Anderson took the choice out of Naomi's hands. Contrary to popular belief, admirals are not ordinary people. Oh, some people may say that admirals are just like other men (or women, or entity of your choice) and put on their pants one leg at a time (when applicable), but this is just not true. Admirals have their own way of behaving, their own policies, codes, and occasionally, their own starships. It is wise to tread carefully in the presence of these exalted beings, and if possible, to tread in their presence not at all, because, despite the elimination of gout by modern medicine science, admirals intensely dislike having their toes stepped on. Anderson ignored everything her good sense was telling her to act on her need to protect one of her own. "Admiral, you've gone too far. You can't torture Q into working into transwarp, and if you think you can, you don't belong in Starfleet." "Really, *commodore*?" Pelz accented the last word, making it into a threat. "I'm merely stating the facts. I've made no threats, no demands, no accusations." Anderson didn't back down an inch. "We both know what you're here for. Playing games should be beneath you. Obviously it isn't." Pelz said nothing, simply looked back at Anderson with a predatory smile. She stood up, an insult in and of itself and looked at Q. "You can't do this, admiral, not even to Q." "I can't?" the admiral asked lightly. "I was unaware that commodores outranked admirals. Pity. I must be behind on the latest regulations from Starfleet." Anderson exchanged one last glance with Pelz, then stalked out. Naomi stood up quickly, before Pelz could say anything else. With Anderson out of the room, her protective atmosphere was gone too, and there was no telling what Pelz and Q might say to each other. She didn't bother to exchange pleasantries with Pelz, just took Q's hand and tugged gently. He stood up and went with her, too upset and angry to put up any resistance. He wanted to tear Pelz into little shreds, wanted to do the same to Anderson for having taken on Pelz for him. How dare she do that? And Pelz. What did he think he was getting away with? Q was even more furious with Pelz than he was with Anderson. Pelz had managed to brilliantly play the role of concerned, yet dignified authority figure, while still getting his implied threats across. Q understood exactly what Pelz was getting at here. It especially annoyed him that Pelz had done it in character. Q wanted to be the one playing the dignified role. He was halfway to their quarters before he even realized where they were going. And then Q was furious. Furious at Anderson for having lambasted the admiral in the way that he'd wanted to do, and furious at Naomi for having dragged him out of there. Q stopped dead in his tracks. "You can't do this to me." "Do what?" "You cowardly little unevolved ape." Naomi interpreted that correctly. "So you think it would have been a bright idea to trade insults with someone who holds the power of life and death over your future?" He glared at her. "Life or death? Puh-leease. Spare me the melodramatics." "How did you think of it as? Getting fired from a boring job?" He clapped his hands together sarcastically. "Oh, give the lady a cigar." "I don't smoke." Naomi looked up at him, craning her neck to see his face. "You planning on looking through the Want Ads to find a job for an unemployed physicist?" "No, I'm going to law school," Q said mockingly. Naomi took it in stride. "Not a bad idea. I hear there's a lot of memorization though. I considered it, but I hate public speaking. You'd be much better at that part than I could ever be. Assuming you could keep from calling the judge a moron, that is." They were at the door. Q looked at her as he stepped through the doorway, "Coddling idiots only makes them more idiotic." "Good point." **** The day seemed to go on forever after that. Naomi had convinced Q not to directly attack Admiral Pelz, but that was a minor victory, hardly worth talking about. Q had immersed himself in his catalogues, involved in some esoteric project Naomi had no hope of understanding, even if Q had been willing to explain, which he wasn't. Technically, he was supposed to be working, but Naomi suspected there was no chance of that as long as Pelz remained on the base. Naomi thought to herself about the whole situation regarding transwarp, Q and the admiral. Pelz had come to visit, or rather to threaten. He wanted Q to work on transwarp. Naomi knew there was no chance of that ever happening. But Pelz could do some fairly unpleasant things to Q if he wanted. And Q could do some extremely unpleasant things if he were backed into a corner, like trying to kill himself. Naomi couldn't stand for that. Both parties were locked here in a battle of wills that couldn't be won. Both Q and Pelz were indomitable. She had to convince Admiral Pelz not to pursue this course of action. Naomi quailed inside. There was no way to do it, no argument she could think of, no defense. But she had to try. She couldn't let Q be destroyed in this fashion. Steeling herself to the inevitable, Naomi went to change clothes, taking pains for once to present a good appearance, and putting on something Q had chosen for her, a forest green tunic over soft black trousers. As always, Naomi considered it appallingly low cut. She preferred things which closed at the neck. But Q did have good taste in these matters, and she did need to present a good appearance to the admiral to get him to take her seriously. **** The door opened, and Naomi felt an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Too late to run now. The admiral looked up, mouth curling up at the corners when he saw her. "Ah, Dr. Allen. So nice to see you again. Won't you come in?" As Naomi stepped into the room, Pelz nodded to his assistants, who collected their things, and left. One of the tall young men brushed by her, giving her a supercilious look as he passed. Naomi looked after him, wondering what that was all about. The admiral stood up. "And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" He was smiling, and very gracious, but Naomi distrusted his courtesy even more than she loathed the arrogant, high-handed way he'd treated Q earlier. "I came to talk to you about Q," Naomi said, and then added as an afterthought, "What did you *think* I came to see you about?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. Pelz was smiling even more secretively, and although she didn't think he was taking that in the way it sounded when she'd said it, she certainly didn't want him to think that was why she was here. Pelz neatly sidestepped the issue by offering her a chair. "Why don't you sit down?" Naomi warily seated herself, all too aware of him standing behind her, looming over her. Before she could get too uneasy, he came around and sat back in his own chair. "Admiral, I..." "Please, call me Jeremy." Bile twisted in her throat. There was nothing out of the usual about his request. But something about it just set her nerves jangling, and her skin to crawling. But she couldn't allow herself to appear less than gracious by calling him admiral after he'd asked her to call him by name. Technically, she supposed, you could even consider it an honor. But she didn't. So she'd have to avoid calling him by name at all. "I came here because I wanted to talk to you about Q." "I don't understand," Pelz said. "Why isn't Q here himself? Why send a woman to do his arguing for him?" The words were insulting, but they were said in such a light tone that Naomi would have appeared boorish to take offense at them. Not that had ever stopped her before, in similar situations. "Because he shouldn't have to." "Intriguing response." Naomi smiled back, irked. "You haven't explicitly said it yet, but you're here to get Q to work on transwarp. Correct?" Pelz inclined his head to her. "If Q were to work on transwarp, that *would* greatly benefit the Federation, yes. For a benefit such as that, I might be persuaded to change my mind." Naomi's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying you've already made up your mind to throw Q to the wolves?" "You're very direct," Pelz observed dryly. "And that's not an answer." "No, it's not." Pelz stood up. "If that's all you had to say, then I believe our interview is at an end." Naomi stood up as well, mirroring his movement, standing almost nose-to-chest with him. "You don't understand." And then his hand brushed her breast, and Naomi froze, a sick feeling of shame and fear rushing through her. It could have been an accident, but it wasn't, and she knew it. "I understand you, Naomi. I know what you want." His tone sent shudders of revulsion through her, and she could read his intent in his shadowed eyes. Naomi reached for flippancy, trying to save her pride from the beating it would take if she simply fled. "Besides a half dozen glazed donuts with cinnamon sprinkles?" Pelz smiled slightly, but his hooded gaze never left her, his hands settling on her shoulders. "I *can* give you what you want, Naomi." "So can any half-decent replicator," Naomi said. She wanted to turn and run, wanted to flee screaming. But she couldn't. She'd lose too much face, humiliate herself too badly that way. Naomi knew that she had gotten herself into this mess; no one had forced her. To run away scared would be the worst kind of weakness. But she was both terrified and repelled by the man standing in front of her, holding onto her shoulders. "You want power. And you can't get that here," Pelz said, not taking his hands away. "Power? Me? You definitely have the wrong person," Naomi said, trying to find a graceful way out of this situation. How had this subject come up? It was entirely too clear to her what the admiral wanted in return for Q's safe-conduct. Inwardly, she shuddered, unable to help the revulsion she felt. Her aversion stemmed not from Pelz's appearance or even that he'd made a pass at her, but from the way he'd done it and the fact that she had no other choices but to at least pretend to put up with it. Naomi swallowed hard, trying to hide her distress. Was she actually considering giving into this man in order to save Q? Her skin crawled at that thought, but she didn't dare run away, or even show a single sign of the nausea she felt. To antagonize Pelz was to guarantee Q's fate. Under other circumstances, she might have considered Pelz attractive. He was taller than herself, although not nearly as tall as Q, and in reasonably good shape for someone whose job probably didn't entail much physical activity. His face was saturnine, and set in lines of dissipation, only his underlying ruthlessness giving it any character at all. But there was something very wrong with his eyes, which missed nothing and gave nothing away. Naomi admitted that she was attracted to men who were bad for her, to the kind of man who could offer her a challenge and potentially dominate her. But there was something intensely repellent about this situation. She hated Pelz for doing this to her, but even more, hated herself for the kind of person she was right now to be doing something like this. If anyone knew... she'd be desperately ashamed. "I don't think I do have the wrong person, my dear," Pelz said, still standing very close to her. "Your choice to set up housekeeping with Q was hardly motivated by lust." Naomi tried desperately not to take a step back, away from him. She couldn't claim that her motive had been lust, even it were true. Pelz would definitely take *that* the wrong way. "Power? You must be insane." He shook his head, a reproving expression on his face. "You can't play the innocent with me, Naomi. I've been around much longer than you have, and I know every trick in the game." "I don't know what you're talking about," Naomi said weakly, feeling pinned under the intensity of his stare like a bug about to be dissected. Pelz reached up, skimming a hand along the line of her jaw, just barely touching her. Naomi held herself still, trying not to recoil, not to react. "You do know, my dear, although I applaud your efforts to conceal yourself. However, it won't work with me." Pelz's tone grew harsh. He had little patience with people who took him for a fool. Q's "companion" coming here like this, alone... What else could he think? "Q has an entire starbase at his beck and call. If he weren't so intransigent, he could possibly control much more. If, for instance as you mentioned earlier, he were to develop transwarp, he would be the premier scientist in the Federation." Naomi shook her head slightly in negation. "Q won't work on transwarp." "How disappointing that must be for you, then. If he did, you would have cleverly managed to place yourself into a position of great power and influence. As it is..." Pelz's voice trailed off, and he smiled dangerously. "...you seem to be here with me." "You can't think that I..." Pelz looked down at her condescendingly. "You can't think that you're the first to feign interest in the man to get at the admiral." "I'm not interested in you!" Naomi said, outraged at the turn this conversation was taking. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she was horrified at herself for saying them. She'd undoubtably just alienated the very person who had Q's fate in his hands. Pelz chuckled softly, stepping away from her. "Too close to the truth for you? I won't press you. Run along now." Naomi stared blankly at him. "Run along now," Pelz repeated with some amusement mixed in with his dark tone. "You'll be back, I'm sure." Naomi took the feeble excuse, and fled the admiral's quarters, too preoccupied to notice the guards standing on either side of the door watching her ignominious exit or to notice the redheaded woman talking to them. Naomi wanted to do nothing more than get back to the safety of her quarters, and stand under a real water shower and let the hot water pound into her until every latent memory of Pelz's touch was washed away. He'd only brushed her lightly, almost accidentally, but his presence had been overwhelming, and she could almost feel his hands on her body. Naomi shuddered again. She couldn't stand it. Naomi kept walking, as if in a daze, uncaring that there was even anyone else in the same universe with her, much less the same starbase. Amy Frasier was very aware of Naomi, however. She'd stopped by to check out the tall, handsome, available young men who'd arrived with the admiral in order to assess their potential for a new experience. Quickly, she'd become aware that something far more important was going on. The guards had been only too happy to inform her of who the admiral's guest was. Amy had drawn her own conclusions about Naomi's reasons for having been there alone with Pelz. She herself wouldn't have dared to try for an admiral. Not without some definite signs of interest on the part of the admiral. But Admiral Pelz had paid attention to Naomi when he arrived, according to someone Amy knew who'd been there at the time. He'd been rather taken with Naomi. Amy didn't believe that Naomi was simply trading up. Naomi hadn't started with anything. Who'd consider a loser like Q to be a functioning human being at all? However, there was a tiny grain of truth in the matter. Just enough to finally give Amy a chance to exact some anonymous revenge on Q for the ignominious way he'd treated her. No one knew how he'd called Security on her, waited in fact until she'd been in a very compromising position to do it, the snake. He should have been grateful that any woman was willing to have him. Amy wasn't exactly jealous of Naomi. She didn't want the place Naomi had with Q. Amy did want Q humiliated though. And this situation gave her the perfect opportunity to do so. For instance, just say that someone heard from a reliable source that Naomi and Pelz were something more than admiral and doctor. That perhaps Naomi was using undue influence on Q's behalf to keep the good admiral from making the decision to toss Q out on his ass like he deserved. It was plausible enough for gossip. By the time it got back to Q, the story should have been embroidered with enough firsthand accounts and anecdotes from people who hadn't even been there to make it overwhelmingly convincing. Amy smiled maliciously. At last, she'd have her revenge on that posturing bag of bones. If only she could deliver the news personally. She sighed wistfully. It wouldn't have the same effect though. Just starting it off would have to be enough. **** Naomi stepped into the shower, then let the hot water fall around her. The first shock of water against her skin was unbearably hot, but she didn't care. All the better to tear off her skin so she didn't have to ever feel that way again. After a minute, though, her skin adjusted to the temperature, and it was no longer nearly as painful. But the water was still rushing over her. Naomi leaned against the wall, tears coming to her eyes. There wasn't enough water anywhere to wash away how she felt. The humiliation was her own, and her own fault, and it wasn't something water could cleanse. The memory and the guilt were inside her, and they would always be. She couldn't hold back the sobs any longer, and cried helplessly then, holding on to the wall for support as the water washed away the tears even as they fell, and blocked out the noise of her crying. After a long time, she stepped out and toweled herself dry. She had to face Q eventually, talk to him rationally about the admiral, explain what Pelz wanted and that Q was going to have to cooperate with him, at least until something else could be done, like subverting the man altogether. Naomi didn't like that advice any better than Q would, but she could see there would be no reasoning with Pelz. He was a dangerous man. She put on a long sweater over a blouse buttoned to the neck, with the sleeves buttoned at the wrists. After her pants, she pulled on a pair of old fashioned lacing shoes that were apparently all the rage nowadays. Naomi had grown accustomed to these clothing fads showing up in her wardrobe, courtesy of the fashion maven now living with her. At the moment, she was grateful. Naomi hugged her arms around herself, still feeling fragile, and went to look for Q. He looked up as she came in. "The prodigal returns." "What? No fatted calf?" Naomi jested feebly. "Eat, eat, eat, is that all you ever think about?" Naomi settled herself on the other end of the couch, pulling a pillow to her, and clutching it tightly. "What else is there, after all?" Q was not fooled by her light words. Her tone was shaky at best, and he knew something was wrong. That made him uneasy. Naomi was supposed to be the bulwark of his life, and having her upset disturbed the settled routine that kept him from being forced to deal with change, and avoiding change kept him from needing to deal with the pain and fear which was a routine part of his human life. This realization made Q angry. How dare she have emotional problems and start messing up his neat little life? Who did she think she was, anyway? "I don't know why I bother wasting my time on someone as backward as you," Q said lightly, his expression and posture never changing. "You're obviously hopelessly ineducable." "Yes, well then I'm in good company," Naomi said, inclining her head toward him. "Are you trying to imply that *I'm* untrainable with that pathetic attempt at a comeback?" "If the shoe fits, whine about the color, right?" Q's eyes gleamed. He was just getting warmed up here, and Naomi was talking his language. So it surprised him even more, when out of the blue, Naomi brought the subject back to the one thing in the world he most disliked talking about right now. "Q, I think you should agree to work on transwarp." "Are you out of your mind? No, no, no. Under no conditions. No." Naomi sighed wearily, looking at the embroidery on the pillow. "I went to speak with the admiral about this. I think he's more than capable of backing up his threats with actions. It couldn't hurt to at least pretend to go along..." "You lied to me!" "What?" Q was indignant. "You said you had work to do. You lied to me!" Naomi half-shrugged. "I didn't want you coming along with me to argue with Pelz. I was afraid you might not be... completely reasonable. And it was work, in a way." Q was even more insulted now, if that were possible. "You didn't *want* to take me with you? I'll have you know that I'm far more capable of arguing in my own defense than any human, especially someone who's only capable of relating to computers!" Naomi refused to look up at him, apparently fascinated with the artistry of the stitching on the pillow. "Q, it doesn't matter now. I went there, and I talked to Pelz. And he's not a reasonable man. He's... a very dangerous man." Naomi shuddered involuntarily, despite the many layers of clothing she was wearing and the warmth in the room. "I won't work on transwarp," Q said flatly. He felt betrayed that Naomi would even bring this up. She knew why it was that he refused to give the Federation transwarp. The technology was far beyond anything that the Federation, with its petty little view of the universe, was likely to achieve. To put that kind of tool in their hands when they weren't ready for it would be disastrous. Transwarp was far more than just an improved warp drive. The principles behind it, if shown to these grasping morons, would also allow for the creation of newer and more terrible ways for mortals to wreak pain and destruction on each other. Q found he had far stronger objections to mortal pain now than he had ever had as a omnipotent entity. And simply handing technology over to them was something he just didn't do. He *couldn't* simply hand over technology. He knew raw physical principles, not technology. In order to give the Federation a transwarp drive, he would have to work closely with experts in technological applications, because he just didn't know enough about the technology to simply design a transwarp drive. Not that Pelz seemed to be aware of that, or if he were aware, to care. But that wasn't the only reason Q was balking. To hand over the principles behind transwarp would disrupt the whole creative process. As annoyingly backward and malinformed about the universe as these people were, they needed to find the answers for themselves, or they'd not only lose the ability to search, but lose all the "wrong" answers they ran into along the way. He could do their math homework for them, and ensure that they got all the problems right, and got a good grade, but if he did that, they'd have no better understanding of the subject of mathematics, or the principles behind it. No clue as to the importance of what they were being given. But even the moral issues, although weighty, weren't the full reason he was refusing. If he worked on transwarp, interfered with the timeline that much simply for his own personal benefit, or worse, out of fear for his own welfare, the Continuum would never take him back. Q2's visit had reassured him enormously on that point. When he'd worked to stop the Borg, he'd been afraid that that action would prejudice the Continuum against him, that they'd choose to stop his meddling with direct action, most likely by killing him. It hadn't worked out that way, but Q had been running a tremendous personal risk, not that anyone had appreciated his sacrifice. However, that had been for the survival of the Federation, sickening a memory as it was, rather than his own individual well-being. He wouldn't work on transwarp, and that was final. "You don't understand," Naomi said, trying to get through those elaborate defenses. "You're going to *have* to work with Pelz." "Have to? I don't have to do anything." Naomi sighed slightly. "I was afraid you'd say that." She rested her chin on the pillow, studying Q out of the corner of her eye. It would have been easier if Q had agreed to fool Pelz with a pretense of compliance. But if Q wouldn't give in, that left Naomi with only one option -- to try to talk to Pelz again. A tremor ran through her, the coldness spreading to every part of her body. She knew what interpretation Pelz would place on her return, what he'd expect from her. Naomi looked at Q. Was it worth it? Was he worth this? She sighed soundlessly. Apparently the answer to that was yes. **** Harry stepped into the room, a little hesitant. He didn't want Q to think he was planning anything, even though this was the first time he had approached Q in his quarters when Harry knew Q was alone. But he had to talk to Q, had to break the news to him before someone who was less mindful of Q's hypothetical feelings could do it. The rumor was days old now, but Harry was fairly certain Q hadn't heard it. The person who the rumor was about always heard last. "Harry!" Q said cheerfully, happy to see anyone who wasn't Naomi. The past week she'd been alternating between exasperating and infuriating with occasional dips into depressing. "Q!" Harry responded. "You're looking a little less elegant than usual." Q was still far more elegantly dressed than Harry could ever hope to manage, but that was beside the point. "You've discovered the casual side of me, Harry," Q said lightly, with a full awareness that his attire was perfect, as always. "Evidently." Harry took a seat across from Q. "Q... I needed to talk to you about something." "You can spare me your tedious romantic adventures, Harry." Harry grinned, then sobered quickly. "No, that's not what I came here to talk to you about. Unfortunately. You may wish I had talked about my romantic life, what little there is of it." Q looked sharply at Harry. "Do I want to hear this?" "Probably not. Q... There's a rumor going around. I... I don't know if it's true. Rumors aren't, not always, but I... I just thought you should hear it from a friend." Q didn't change position. "Really? Yet another rumor. How dull. Even more boring than your romantic life. All people ever seem to do around this place is gossip about me." "This isn't about you," Harry said flatly. "It's about Naomi." "Naomi?" Q looked up at that. "What about Naomi?" Harry shifted uncomfortably, and looked down at his clasped hands, unable to meet Q's eyes. "She's been seen going to visit Admiral Pelz. On a regular basis. Always alone. The rumor is that they're having an affair." "What?" Q was in shock. "It's true. I mean, that I've heard this from several people is true. The nasty version of the rumor is that Pelz apparently makes a habit of this, collecting women as trophies, and then tossing them aside when he's done, and that Naomi is his latest pursuit." Harry looked up at Q, whose only visible reaction had been to get even stiffer. "The kind version is that she's sleeping with Pelz to save your ass." Q was mentally reeling, trying to cope with the information Harry had just given him. Naomi had been slipping out fairly often, and not coming back for hours. But he'd never questioned why. She'd done it before after all, and Sanaharrar was almost always with her. He'd been a trusting fool. What Harry was saying was infinitely plausible. Naomi deludedly believed herself to be in love with him. She might very well decide that such a disgusting sacrifice was necessary since he had already refused to work with Pelz on transwarp. That concept repelled Q. Sex was bad enough without prostituting yourself. And she was doing that for *him*. Q shuddered mentally at the very idea. How nauseating. Then an additional horrifying thought swept over him. What if Naomi were actually *attracted* to Pelz? It was possible. After all, she'd been attracted to *him*, and Q knew himself to be no bargain. He was gaunt, physically repulsive, and pathetically lacking in social skills. He had nothing to recommend himself to anyone. Why not Pelz? Naomi might even be out just to collect herself an admiral. They weren't nearly as unique an item as former gods, but they were relatively rare nonetheless. But he couldn't give any sign of this to Harry. Bad enough that the world believed Naomi to be unfaithful to him, laughing at Q behind his back for being unable to hold onto even one relationship, without showing Harry how hurt he was by this and adding *that* to the rumor mill. "How delightful of you to stop by and share all the latest chatter with me, Harry. Would you like a cup of tea?" "Latest chatter?" Harry repeated in disbelief. "Q, this is important." Q waved a hand at Harry, keeping the gesture lazy with great effort. "Gossip. Just trivial gossip. There's no limit to what people with no lives will make up about those of us who have one." Harry shook his head, then stood up, looking regretfully back at Q. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do?" "You're simply looking for another excuse to tumble me into bed with you again," Q said mockingly. He flicked his fingers at Harry. "Go on, shoo." Harry looked at Q again, then left. As the door closed behind him, he realized that he'd forgotten to tell Q something about the rumors. Everyone *was* talking about Q, but generally the comments were kind towards Q; those people who didn't think Q brought this on himself were outraged at Naomi for doing something like this to Q. Some because they felt Q had been nicer with Naomi around; they didn't want a return to the bitter, depressive Q of old. Others, and there were some, felt it was really cruel of Naomi to lead Q on like she had, and then pull the rug out from under him like this. But Q wouldn't thank him for telling him that people pitied him. And it probably wasn't all that important anyway. Harry continued on his way, hands thrust in his pockets, deeply disturbed. He didn't know what kind of game Naomi was playing here, but he knew he didn't like it. **** As soon as Harry was out the door, Q's pretense of being in control crumbled. His body slumped, and his hands tangled with his robe, wadding it up, not caring that he was damaging the delicate fabric. Everything Harry had said was extremely plausible. And Q couldn't stand the thoughts Harry had engendered with his thoughtless passing on of gossip. It was bad enough to know that he, advanced, formerly omnipotent Q, was so unappealing that he needed to be grateful that even one human was willing to tolerate him. To find out that even that one had turned against him... that was unendurable. Just then, Naomi entered the room, returning from yet another jaunt. Sanaharrar stopped at the doorway and did not offer to enter the room. The felinoid had no need to be in the same room with them; with her telepathic senses, she could respond to danger without infringing entirely on their privacy. She split her time almost evenly between the pair. Q was her primary responsibility; however, Sanaharrar sensed a threatening aura coming from Admiral Pelz that she did not like. She had not acted; however, Sanaharrar would not leave her charge unprotected. Q looked up at Naomi, with an effort drawing composure over his features. "Dear me, I do believe I'm being honored with a brief visit from the exalted Dr. Allen." "Exalted?" Naomi asked. "I *don't* think so." Her session with Pelz had been even worse, and Naomi was exhausted and irritable. Each time, she hoped that his attitude would be easier to bear, that he wouldn't make advances, that every word, every look he gave her wouldn't be full of unstated desires. Naomi felt unclean just from having been in the same room with the man. She wanted nothing more now than to strip these clothes off of herself and wash his presence off of her. Pelz still hadn't made any direct overtures to get her into bed with him, for which Naomi was grateful. However, he also hadn't listened to one word she'd said about Q or about Q's objections to working on transwarp. "I suppose I should be grateful that you even still choose to stop by now and then." "Stop by? I *live* here." "A technicality," Q said airily, his cold eyes a direct contradiction to his apparent ease of manner. "One definitively disproven by a detailed analysis of where you spend your time." Naomi was caught by that, even as worn out as she was. "What do you mean by that?" "Is it too hard for you?" Q asked patronizingly. "You must have had a long hard day massaging data, no?" "Excuse me?" Naomi asked, now puzzled and beginning to be offended. "I don't know what you're implying..." "*Implying?* I'm not implying anything, my dear. What your conscience may be reading into my comments is your own business." "Guilty conscience? I don't have anything to feel guilty about." Which was true enough; she'd done nothing she felt was wrong, only been exposed to things that made her feel bad about herself. "How interesting. I don't believe I made an accusation." Naomi glared back at Q, her expression set. She'd already spent an hour and a half fencing with Pelz over Q and transwarp while simultaneously trying to keep out of reach without being offensive. She wasn't in the mood to play nice. "What's wrong with you? I haven't done anything to hurt you, haven't insulted you, or anything. And you're treating me like I'm the Antichrist." "Don't be so full of yourself. You're nowhere near that important." Naomi fumed. "Can't you just tell me what you're upset about? I can't correct my behavior if you don't tell me what I've done wrong." "With so many things to choose from, how do you expect me to choose just one?" "I expect you to do it quickly, before I totally lose what little patience and good nature I have left." "Temper, temper. Your inherently violent nature is showing through." "Would you like a demonstration?" Naomi asked dangerously, feeling very on edge at the moment. "No, thank you. My imagination is more than sufficient." "Then tell me, damn you." "I've been damned by far better beings than yourself. And they didn't seem to have much of an effect on me either." Q's offhand manner was getting to Naomi's nerves far more than his insults were. How could he just not care? "I'm not sure I'm being complimented." "Oh, you're not." "Well, at least you told me *something*," Naomi said glaring down at Q, where he sat, posed with an air of casual elegance in a chair. "Even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear." "If you want to hear something specific, why bother harassing me at all? Or were you planning to break each of my bones in succession until I spoke whatever degrading piece of dialogue you had scripted for me?" Naomi didn't answer that. Q was just trying to distract her. She had to admit that it was working. But she had to get back on track, maintain her focus. "You're angry with me, and I want to know why." Q waved a lazy hand in her direction. "Isn't it obvious? Your behavior of late has been exceedingly uncouth. If I take offense at this kind of treatment, am I to blame for demanding basic human courtesy?" He smiled at her, showing his teeth. Naomi recoiled at the attack on her. "You were angry long before I confronted you about it." "Do I have to spell it out for you?" "Yes." "How tedious." "You don't have anything better to do." Q stood up, instantly towering over her. He looked down at her, and although the set of his mouth was amused, there was something cold and dangerous lurking in the bottom of his eyes. "You've been a very bad girl, Naomi. Promises, promises." He stalked off, leaving her behind to try to figure out what he was talking about. Q rarely left an argument unless he felt he'd won it, or he was being carried out, on his way to Sickbay. So, although he hadn't said anything truly pertinent about her, or levelled any factual accusations, Q must have said something he considered to be relevant. Somewhere in there was a clue to what he really meant, although Naomi had no idea where. Her behavior needed changing, he'd said. She was a bad girl, and something about promises. What promises? With a sudden flash of insight, the promises she'd made to Q when she first convinced him to accept her reluctantly into his life came to mind. She'd promised to be loyal to him, and only to him, and to not talk about him. And implicitly, to never leave him as well. Had he been referring to that? Had she been breaking any of those promises? She hadn't done anything. Not really. The only thing even remotely out of the ordinary she'd done, besides being nice to Farish, was to try to convince the admiral not to put pressure on Q regarding transwarp, and that was hardly a breach of her promises to Q. She was being very loyal there, exceedingly loyal as a matter of fact, if you counted the way the admiral had been looking at her. He hadn't said or done anything offensive, but his eyes made her crawl. Naomi shrugged. That didn't count. Even if Q had somehow managed to find out about it, and she couldn't see how he'd done that, she found it hard to believe he'd count that against her. Maybe there was something else. But what could it be? Was it worth seeking out? Given enough time, Q would most likely come back to crow over her about being too stupid to figure out what it was on her own, and then she'd probably find out what it had been. That is, if it were something minor. If this was a major problem... Naomi's skin crawled. The expression in Q's eyes scared her. She didn't want him looking at her like that, like she was scum. She wanted to go after Q, but she needed to go see the admiral again. It was critical that she change his attitudes, and convince him that Q was not someone he could give orders to and expect them to be obeyed. Transwarp was something Q was not going to work on under any circumstances, and the admiral had to be brought to an awareness of that. By whatever means. No matter if it made her feel sick inside at the very thought. **** Q toodled off to his own room, carefully locking the door behind him, something he almost never did, since despite the additional privacy it offered, it also created one extra second when Security might not be able to get to him in the case of an assassination attempt. After the incident with n'Vala, Q wanted his potential screams to be *heard*, and someone able to respond quickly. Once inside the room, Q collapsed into quiet hysterics on the bed. How dare she? How could Naomi betray him like that? She had no right to put herself into league with his enemies. He had thought she was his friend, and yet here she was, spending time with this admiral, dressing up for him, and talking about him, Q, while simultaneously attempting to convince him, Q, to play along with the admiral. That was treachery of the lowest rank, and Q couldn't stand for it. At one point in his existence, he would have summarily destroyed Naomi, simply banished her from this plane of being. Death was such a limited, mortal way of looking at it. Being removed from the playing field was a closer term. Even now, even as a human, he might have tried to get rid of her, but this was *Naomi*. Her betrayal shattered him. She was the only friend he had, and here she was, on the side of the enemy. He couldn't understand it. Or rather, he understood it all too well. He just didn't know why it was that Naomi, whom he had almost come to trust, would do such a thing. Or why it hurt so badly. Q sobbed into the pillow, curling around it, his fine clothes put on to impress Naomi, who was apparently unimpressable, getting mussed and being completely ignored. The knot of pain inside of him was unbearable. He had thought he could believe in Naomi, had almost come to depend on her, rely on her. And she had done this to him. It was almost worse that she was doing it to supposedly save him. He didn't need saving, and he most certainly didn't need Naomi prostituting herself to do it. But Q felt a certain sense of guilt that Naomi would even think it was necessary to do so. He cried until there were no more tears left in him, and then laid there, dry-eyed, staring into the pillow, seeing nothing. A certain cold desperation came to him. There was only one thing he could do, besides taking his own life, which would be a sickeningly romantic gesture under the circumstances, and was therefore unacceptable despite the depression he felt. He would go forward with renegotiating a new contract with Starfleet. He had the strength in this bargain, what with Q2's assurance that no assassins would be deliberately sent after him. Q2 had kept his word. Although no one had remarked upon it, and Q intended to twit dear Eleanor on it, as soon as he no longer needed to keep the fact secret as a bargaining chip, the attempts had nearly ceased. And if Q didn't need Starfleet for protection, then they no longer held the power in this bargain. He did, because he had something they wanted. And they had nothing he needed anymore. A few trivial things he might want, yes, but nothing which they could hold over his head and use to force him to do their bidding with. Not even Naomi, although Q knew that no one was aware of that particular bit of information yet. When he had a new contract with Starfleet, one in which he held the advantage, he would use it to leave the starbase, and leave Naomi behind. Somewhere different, with different people, where he could forget. Or at least somewhere where he could kill himself and no one would ever know it was because of his feelings for a woman. **** Naomi went off to the lab, needing to immerse herself in something other than her thoughts or this business with Pelz and Q and transwarp. When she got there, a piece of mail from outside the starbase was waiting for her. From a scientific institution on Earth. Any news coming from outside was a welcome change, especially since the situation here seemed to be going to hell in a warbird. Naomi curiously put that one first in her queue and read it, eyes picking up the pertinent pieces of information. Her search request had turned up biographical information on Jason Hartfeil, but little else. Hartfeil had been reasonably well- known in his day, and Naomi had found reading his bio interesting, although looking at his picture was heartbreaking. He was a physical double of Q, but not this current Q. Instead, he was Q as Q could be, attractive, happy and in fine health. He was even *smiling* in his holos. Naomi had destroyed those immediately after looking at them, unable to bear the contrast. She loved Q too much to be able to stand seeing what he could have been. All she wanted to do was cry for what he'd lost, and that was hardly helpful, considering the vast improvement he'd made in the last few months. When she'd begged, wheedled and coerced her way into his life, Q had been little more than a husk, a walking mannequin, not even bothering to animate his features more than half the time. He was nowhere near the holos of Hartfeil, but Q was much less cadaverous, and more alive, willing to snap at anyone for anything. Which made Naomi quite happy, even though, at the moment, he seemed to be snapping mostly at her. Naomi reviewed the message from the institution again. Acting on a hunch, Naomi had queried a number of organizations on Earth for the possibility that Hartfeil had availed himself of their services, and finally, *finally* when she'd almost given up hope, she had a positive response. Her fingers danced over the input pad, composing a reply. Much programming couldn't be done verbally, had to be done manually. Naomi had long since gotten out of the habit of issuing verbal commands while at work, even for something like her messages, which could have been handled that way. She entered a request for them to send her what they had, using the most formal mode she could. She'd get Anderson to endorse the request if she had to, but Naomi preferred to keep this quiet for the moment. If she were wrong, then there'd be fewer explanations to make and less embarrassment on her part. **** Q returned from his visit to the physics lab, Sanaharrar pacing at his side. She knew who needed her most. Q's confrontation with Naomi had been almost 24 hours before, and his mood had not shifted. His complete avoidance of Naomi was hurting him almost as much as the confrontation itself had, although Q refused to admit that. Standing in front of Q's quarters, his back facing the door, was Dr. Bronson Farish. He looked as though he'd just come out of the room. A slow flush of anger spread over Q, as he recognized the programmer. Was Naomi sleeping with *everyone*? Farish stayed in front of the door as Q walked up. His face lit up as he recognized Q. "Oh, there you, my good man. Have you seen Naomi anywhere about?" "You'd know better than I, since you were apparently just inside." "What?" Farish looked puzzled. Q brushed past him, into the room. Farish followed -- walking backwards through the door. Q stared at him. "Is your peculiar behavior a result of your simian ancestry?" "Hmm?" Farish looked puzzled for a moment, then made the connection. "Oh, no. It's just that the doors only work for me if I go through the in the opposite direction. Different with different doors." He settled into a lecturing stance. "I believe it has to do with whether the door is to a main room, rather than a sub-room. The algorithm is really rather fascinating..." Q cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Enough. I'm getting stupider just listening to you. Was there a reason for this, or do I have to have you thrown out?" Sanaharrar, who had entered with Q, due to the presence of the unwelcome guest, was sitting at Q's side as ample evidence of his ability to do so. Farish was oblivious to the implication. "No, just looking for Naomi." "Dare I ask why?" Q rested his hand on Sanaharrar's head, striking a kingly pose, the better to impress Farish with. Sanaharrar put up with it, only a narrowed glance from yellow eyes sending the message that Q should watch his step with vicious predators with fangs longer than his fingers. Farish preened slightly. "She is a very attractive woman, if you hadn't noticed. Despite the programming nonsense." Q almost started to rip the man to shreds for being a blithering idiot, when he had a truly evil idea. He knew where Naomi was. It was eating a hole in his heart, like acid, but he did know, had found out in fact, by the simple expedient of asking the computer. Wouldn't Naomi be so *pleased* to be interrupted by this fool? "My dear doctor, I believe you're in love with her," Q said, almost gushingly. Farish didn't notice the wealth of irony behind that statement, but instead got flustered. "Wouldn't say that. Just think she's a beautiful woman. Fine person." "Oh, yes," Q said in a silky tone. "Would you believe though that Admiral Pelz has expressed an interest in Naomi as well? That's where Naomi is right now, *talking* with him." Farish missed the special emphasis Q put on 'talking'. "Pelz?" He paled. "I should have said something earlier," Farish muttered to himself. "Should have asked her to dance..." He started to back out the door, when Q stopped him. "I think you should go to her, doctor. Pour out your heart to her." "You do?" Farish asked incredulously. "You think I still have a chance?" Q's amusement almost threatened to drown out his depression. "How could anyone refuse someone as intelligent and personable as yourself? And you wouldn't want to leave her unprotected with a ruthless knave like Pelz, would you?" Farish looked up at that, face transforming. "You're absolutely right. I'll go talk to her at once!" He backed out of the doorway, leaving Q and Sanaharrar alone. Q smiled evilly as the door closed. That had almost, *almost* made up for the way he'd been mistreated by Naomi. She'd regret having placed her loyalties elsewhere. This was a little, petty revenge compared to what catastrophe he could have wreaked; but despite everything, Q wasn't trying to drive Naomi away from her. She was hurting him, she was driving him crazy, but he didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to just stop all of this and go back to who she had been. Not that Q would've put it that way. Someone else was playing with *his* toys, and he wanted them back. Or at least, he tried to convince himself that's all it was. Sanaharrar pulled her head out from under his hand and stalked away with dignity, leaving Q alone in the room. Q stood there, and watched yet another person walk out of his life, and felt absurdly forlorn. He didn't know why. He wouldn't have permitted Sanaharrar to stay; he didn't need a nanny. And certainly, Farish was an idiot and a boor, hardly even worth taunting. But still, he didn't like being alone. **** Farish stepped into the turbolift. "Deck 9." The couple standing there looked at him curiously as the doors hissed shut. "Doctor, there isn't a deck 9." Farish was staring off at nothing in particular, pre-occupied. "Eh? What? Oh, deck 9 is deck 3. That's where I'm headed." "Nine is 3? Excuse me, what are you talking about?" "It's quite simple, really," Farish said, oblivious to the fuss. "If you take the mathematical constant..." The man shook his head and held up a hand. "I don't want to know. Is this some sort of joke or something?" "Joke?" Farish looked up from his computations, puzzled. "It's not particularly funny." The man nodded, exchanging a disgusted look with his companion. *Programmers*. "Someone's playing a practical joke on you, doctor." As the lift stopped and the doors opened, he and his companion got off, leaving Farish standing there. Farish was absurdly flattered by the thought that had just been planted in his head. Someone had gone to the trouble of singling him out to play harmless practical jokes on. To change the turbolift would require that it be someone with a great deal of programming expertise. With swift intuition, his mind leaped to Naomi. The little fox. She was showing her interest in him this way, shyly almost, with these pranks. This realization only steeled him more to what he was planning to do. He'd been ignoring the little things that had been going wrong around him. The replicators that would produce only Klingon dishes when asked for a menu, the unsolicited mail coming from some bizarre sweepstakes on Earth asking him to order magazines in order to win big prizes, the business with the doorways, all of the minor mysteries he'd simply overlooked. He'd actually developed quite a liking for some of the more bland Klingon dishes, such as the blood pudding. The subscription he'd received had been rather interesting as well. Thinking back on it now, Farish could see a pattern in the various small things that had been inconveniencing him. However, when they'd happened, he'd just worked around them. Farish could see now that that had been the wrong move. His callous indifference to Naomi's transparent ploys for his attention had driven her away. She had only sought out Admiral Pelz after he had ignored her very sophisticated attempts at attracting a man more to her taste. Perhaps she'd even thought that he, Farish, wasn't worthy of her, because he'd been unable to figure out her puzzles. He'd just have to convince her that that wasn't true. He was worthy of Naomi, and he'd lay his heart open to her just as Q had suggested. **** Naomi looked up gratefully at the interruption. Playing cat-and- mouse with the admiral was getting harder and harder. Each time, he got a little closer, and she was never quite sure whether he was about to pounce on her or not. Or whether she wanted him to. That was a dangerous thought, and she censored it immediately. Pelz thought of her as the kind of woman who'd try to sleep her way to the top, and that infuriated Naomi. Having to deal with him when he thought that was almost impossible. But she had to try. Pelz smiled at her, the kind of reassuring grin an alligator might give to its half-dead prey. "Come." Farish walked backwards through the door. Naomi tried not to laugh. So Jinn still hadn't called off the cold war. It was aggravating Jinn no end that Farish was apparently unperturbable. His finest pranks, unappreciated. Poor Jinn. Farish turned around. "Naomi!" "Yes?" The admiral looked between the two of them. "And you are?" "Dr. Bronson Farish." Farish was positively bristling, Naomi observed. What had the admiral ever done to him? Forced him to actually do some work instead of going on and on about his theories? "Ah, yes," Pelz said smoothly. "Farish." Farish ignored him, moving to over to the redheaded woman seated at the table. "Naomi, you must forgive me." Naomi looked at him, puzzled. "For what?" "You're too kind, but truly, forgive me. I should have seen it all along." Naomi glanced over at Pelz, who seemed deeply amused by all of this. Farish seemed to sense that his confession wasn't having quite the effect on his object of desire as he'd wanted it to. He followed her glance, and his face darkened. "You've already made up your mind, haven't you? I should have known. This was all a game you were playing with me." "Game?" Naomi asked. "I haven't been doing anything, believe me." "Yes, you have. The practical jokes, the replicator that won't make anything but Klingon food, the doors that only open when I go in backwards." "Oh, that," Naomi said, about to disclaim all responsibility for the pranks. "I..." Farish nodded frantically. "Yes, and I was a fool not to see the connection before. You practically threw yourself at me and I know you must feel hurt that I didn't notice, but I assure you, Naomi, I didn't mean to snub you." Naomi groaned audibly. "Bronson, I had nothing to do with the pranks." She expected him to be upset by that, to turn red and fade silently away, but no, not Farish. "You're trying to save face, I understand. Such a blatant attempt to chase a man... you'd be ashamed of yourself when it failed. I understand completely." Naomi dropped her face into her hands. This was ludicrous. What had she ever done to deserve this? Why couldn't she have been born male, or better yet -- asexual? She'd have loved being a hyperintelligent shade of the color blue. Even Q wouldn't mind too terribly. She'd match his wardrobe much better than she did now. Naomi had this sudden picture of herself as a fashion accessory. Hysterical giggles threatened to overwhelm her, and she could do nothing but sit there and shake, tears coming to her eyes as she struggled to contain her laughter. Pelz stood up, taking matters into his own hands. "Dr. Farish, it was so good of you to visit." Farish looked at him uncomprehendingly. "Thank you." He didn't move, just stood there, looking down at Naomi. He must have hurt her feelings, bringing this out in the open like this. She was crying. Pelz tapped his foot slightly. *Scientists*, he thought with disgust. "Dr. Farish, it's time that you leave." "Leave? I can't leave with Naomi here." Pelz sighed, and summoned his guards. "Take him away. Just... make sure he doesn't come back." They nodded, identical blank expressions on their faces. Farish backed away, but it was no use. They seized the scientist and dragged him out the door. "You can't do this to me! I'm..." the closing door cut off the rest of his sentence. Pelz knelt down next to Naomi, handing her a folded square of cloth. Naomi took the handkerchief, and mopped her eyes with it, still trying to control herself. Having *him* so close to her, his hand resting lightly on her knee, was a great soberer. "Thank you," Naomi said quietly, embarrassed at being caught in such a position, but also very wary of him, kneeling there. Pelz looked up at her, a brief expression of... what? Comfort, vulnerability, caring? ...flitting across his face. Then he backed off, standing up and retreating to his own side of the table. "Where were we?" Naomi asked tremulously, trying to fill that enormous, threatening silence. Pelz felt too raw to handle this. For a moment, she'd seemed fragile, someone too real to be playing the kinds of games he knew she must be playing. She was a user; there was no question about that. Even this episode with Dr. Farish could have been staged, to gain the maximum amount of sympathy from him. Worse tricks had been tried, but the admiral was no one's fool. He had to put this relationship back on the plane it belonged, despite a small part of himself that said he was wrong, and that he'd regret it later. "Is this where you tell me you'll sleep with me if I go along with you?" Pelz said condescendingly. "It won't work." His remark surprised her, and stung. She hadn't been thinking anything of the sort, and she was insulted that he would accuse her of something like that. "No. This is where I tell you I won't sleep with you even if you do go along with me." He looked at her with a new eye, the fire of challenge rising up in him again, as she answered. God, she was a woman worth conquering. Other women were frequently less than interesting to him. They all wanted something from him, and once they got it, they were perfunctory. He sensed that this one could be more. "You really should reconsider, my dear." "I hardly see the benefit," Naomi said. "Do you see the consequences of your refusal?" Pelz asked silkily. "Is that a threat?" "Of course not. I wouldn't dream of making a threat." "A statement of fact, then," Naomi said dryly. "Same thing. If I don't do what you want, you'll make my life miserable, lose me my job, send flowers to my mother, and still persecute Q." "You have a fervid imagination, Naomi." "I get that a lot." Naomi stared at the admiral, mind racing frantically. There was so little time left to resolve this. Neither Q nor the admiral were any closer to a compromise. Q would not work on transwarp, and Pelz refused to believe that that was due to anything other than childish spite. At least he'd dropped the threat of a trial against Q for his past misdeeds. At least, Naomi hadn't heard anything about it again, and she believed, or hoped, that it was because the threat had been merely that, an attempt to coerce Q into behaving. Even Pelz had to see that such a trial would be ludicrous. Q was not the same person he had been then, and to try him for his past misdeeds, if misdeeds they even were, would be a joke. Still, it wasn't something she cared to see have happen. However, Pelz had not dropped his threat of abandoning Q altogether if he did not work on transwarp. Again, that seemed to Naomi like a very stupid idea. Q was the source of a number of technological advances for the Federation, and possible many more in the future. To basically let him die in order to punish him for not working on what you wanted him to work on seemed counterproductive at the least. Again though, it wasn't something Naomi cared to see happen. And she was willing to do just about anything to prevent Q from coming to harm. However, she was beginning to think that the admiral was attempting to manipulate Q into behaving using threats he was in no wise willing to carry out. Either that or Pelz was stupid, which she also couldn't believe. Dangerous, yes; rapacious, definitely; but not stupid. Pelz studied Naomi carefully. His eyes followed the line of her blouse where it clung to her breasts. A pity she insisted on wearing such concealing clothing. As much as he wanted to continue this, he didn't dare. He'd come very close to reaching out to her, to making himself vulnerable to rejection, which he never did. Women came to him, not the other way around. He couldn't risk further interaction with her, not right now. "Then our interview is at an end." He stood up, escorting her graciously to the door. "A pleasure as always, dear lady." Naomi tried not to make a face at him. "Thank you for your kindness." She left the admiral's quarters, oblivious to the people she passed on her way, each of whom cast knowing glances after her. Sanaharrar stood up, and stretched lazily, then paced after Naomi, her sheer size a deterrent to anyone who might be thinking of attacking Naomi. Naomi didn't notice or care that she was been watched after. She made her way back to her quarters in a deep gloom. Her progress with the admiral was less than spectacular. She'd made her points, several times, but her best vollies were absorbed seamlessly into that void. She entered their quarters, and looked at Q's closed door, yearning written all over her face. She wanted to go to him, wanted to make things right between them, but even if she hadn't been down after her meeting with Pelz, a reconciliation between her and Q just didn't seem possible anymore. Somehow she'd offended Q once and for all, and now they were truly separated. Sadly, Naomi wondered if this were indeed the end for them. It wasn't like her to give up easily on anything; it was one of the reasons that she was a programmer. However, Q seemed quite serious about this, and Naomi could take a hint. She'd had to take a lot of hints in dealing with Q: he was hardly the kind of person who came right about and said what he thought about things. Quite the opposite. What he said was nearly always misleading; what he did was nearly always the truth. And in this case, he was physically rejecting her, closing her out of his life. Naomi sighed deeply. She couldn't, wouldn't cause Q pain by remaining here when he truly didn't want her anymore. Even though the thought made her want to curl up and cry with despair, she had to leave him. She couldn't continue to force herself on Q when he really no longer wanted her. But she had to stay at least long enough to convince Pelz to back down. And the admiral thought she and Q were together, which was probably the only reason that his advances weren't more blatant. Naomi didn't even want to think about what might be happening if she were clearly up for grabs. Just thinking about him made her skin crawl. She'd always been seen as someone other than she was, just based on her appearance, but it was her first time to be viewed merely as some sort of sex object. And Naomi found she didn't like it. Saving Q from the admiral would be her finest revenge yet. Not as good perhaps as drugging Pelz, stripping him naked and putting him in a pig costume, and then leaving him in a public place, but Naomi supposed she could settle for second best. With another sigh, she trudged off to her own room, to shut herself inside, lonely and unhappy beyond belief. **** As soon as Naomi walked in through the door, Q was on his way out. He'd timed it precisely. She was just far enough towards her own quarters when he made his move that there was no chance of them accidentally touching him, and no time for her to stop him. He was in the room just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of him, and understand she was being deliberately snubbed. His sense of triumph lasted all the way out into the hall. Now he had to find somewhere to go and something to do, when all he really wanted was to lie down and have Naomi work his back over. It wasn't about sex. He had no yearning or desire for her, despite the fact that it had been days since he'd even spoken to her. His dreams, though, were growing increasingly uncomfortable, which made him hate Naomi even more. How dare she do this to him, lead him on, and then leave him like this? How incredibly rude of her. Sanaharrar nudged him with her head, and Q realized he was standing in the middle of the corridor, not five steps from the door to his own quarters. Immediately, he strode off, looking for some way to increase everyone else's misery level to compensate for his own. He had one day of freedom left. Tomorrow, Pelz would announce his fate. Q bitterly resented Pelz for having that right. Not that he was particularly enjoying his freedom at the moment, or even cared about losing the torturous existence his life had become, but nonetheless, the idea of anyone making decisions for him infuriated Q. First the Continuum, and now Starfleet. Pelz was in for a large surprise tomorrow morning. Starfleet would find out that their little toy on a string, their little Q-in- the-Box, was no longer quite so tame. Q smiled evilly. A small compensation for the agonies they'd put him through, but it would have to do. **** Naomi watched Q leave, and sighed heavily. He hated her for trying to convince him to work on transwarp, but she'd done it because she had been convinced there was no other way. She bowed her head, defeated. She'd lost sight of why she was doing this. The man she'd hoped to save had turned into a cold automaton, neither speaking to her or acknowledging her in any way, save by these elaborate pretenses of not caring. In fact, only those pretenses kept her hoping that Q still cared. If he had truly given up on her, he wouldn't make such a point out of snubbing her. Or at least, she wanted to believe that was true. If she were to save Q, it would have to be now. The final meeting on this subject was tomorrow. Q would have to agree, or Pelz back down, by then. Neither of those courses appeared likely to occur. Naomi knew she had no influence remaining with Q. However, Pelz had made it clear that there was another way, that she could still sway his opinion, if she were to completely abandon her principles, few as they were. Oh, he'd said that sleeping with him wouldn't change his mind, but Naomi didn't believe that. He wanted her; she could tell it from the way he looked at her, the things he'd said. And he'd made it quite plain that he expected her to trade herself for Q. Naomi sighed heavily, unhappiness washing through her. This was not good. However, she couldn't give up. Not only something like this. She'd only barely begun to fight. Pelz had hardly even listened to any of her arguments, had spent most of his time verbally fencing with her, dancing around the subject. She'd just have to *show* him she meant business. **** Naomi brushed the cosmetics across her face, watching herself in the mirror. She knew the face, but the person looking back at her was a stranger. The features were familiar; the makeup did nothing to disguise them, but the eyes were entirely wrong - - desperate and set. This was her last opportunity to change Pelz's mind, to save Q from being tossed out as bait to the next race who deigned to take him on. How anyone could be so stupid, Naomi didn't know. After all, even if the Federation couldn't get anything out of Q, not everyone shared their scruples about torturing innocent people for information. The Cardassians, for instance, might very much like to get their hands on Q, for his military potential alone. And that would make this all a very stupid action on Pelz's part. It had to be a bluff. Not that Naomi didn't think the Federation was incapable of being stupid, they certainly were. Bureaucracies frequently did dumb things without realizing it. However, Pelz was most definitely not that stupid. He was, in fact, not stupid at all. So Pelz had to have other motives, one of which seemed to be getting her into bed with him. Naomi's hand shook. She didn't want to do this, had no desire for him at all. He repelled her and frightened her, and she felt the kind of fascination under his stare that a mouse might have for a cat. If it came to that, if the only way she could stop Pelz was to sleep with him, would she do it? She looked back at herself, green eyes large in the mirror. She didn't know. She didn't want to know. **** "Come." Naomi entered the admiral's quarters, not noticing the smirks of the guards on either side of the doors. She would have admitted to anyone that she was dressed in a way that made her uncomfortable. For the first time, she was voluntarily wearing a dress in the admiral's presence. Not exactly by choice, either. She'd had a choice in the matter, yes, but this was her absolute last chance to convince Pelz to back down, and Naomi was willing to use any weapon to do it, even if it meant baring her legs to the man. And worse, wearing a dress with cleavage so low that the tops of her breasts were actually exposed. Naomi was entirely humiliated by that. But it was necessary. But sex wasn't the argument she intended to use to convince Pelz. It was merely a distracting factor. She had other evidence marshalled to persuade Pelz that coercing Q was a bad idea. Hopefully it would be enough. Pelz rose to greet her. "Naomi! My dear, you look lovely tonight." Despite herself, she blushed. "Thank you." He held out his hand to her. "Please, come and sit down." Naomi seated herself as gracefully as she could manage under the circumstances. Wanting to leap across the small distance separating them and tear his throat out was hardly conducive to smooth negotiation. Unless she succeeded, of course. Naomi stifled an incipient grin. Smiling might encourage him. Pelz looked at her, admiring the way she looked in this more revealing outfit. Anticipation stirred in him. The way she was dressed together with the scheduling of the final conference for tomorrow morning could mean only one thing. She was here to secure his cooperation by any means. Pelz looked forward to it. There was something infinitely more satisfying about humbling a proud woman than there was about merely taking a woman to bed. He couldn't wait to see the look on this one's face when he refused her. The thought of it caused his blood to run hot. And then she would crawl to get what she wanted from him. And he'd enjoy it greatly. The lack of morality in his thoughts bothered him not at all. To his mind, women who tried to use sex to persuade him were already users and manipulators. To turn that around was no more unfair than stealing from a thief. Naomi held out her hand to the computer terminal. "May I?" Pelz's eyebrows narrowed. What was she up to? "Of course." She moved over. This one was only set up for voice input, more's the pity. Computer work always seemed more mysterious when no one could follow what you were doing, and only saw the results. The commands required for direct input were usually more mysterious, which was also a factor. She spoke to the computer as Pelz looked on curiously. "What are you doing?" Naomi turned back. "Just a little demonstration, as it were. A graphic aid." She turned away from him again, smiling grimly. He hadn't expected this, that much was certain. But it was logical in its own way. There was a certain sort of people whose aid was necessary in the sciences, who didn't understand anything at all about science. Two of the members of her doctoral committee had been that way, along with the occasional superior who demanded results without having any idea of what the process entailed. Naomi cordially loathed all such people, but she knew how to deal with them. Lots of pretty pictures, and simplified explanations. If only it would work on Pelz as well. "After you so neatly summed up Q's accomplishments, or lack thereof, at our first meeting, I thought I'd go ahead and take another look at the same accomplishments and see what I'd find." Naomi smiled grimly as the first image appeared, a listing of the various researches Q had contributed to. Pelz looked back at her with the bland look of someone who has just been caught out in a major lie. "This table represents all of the projects Q has been involved with since he came to Starbase 56. I believe it's readily apparent that the number is higher than two. As to your statement regarding major and minor contributions, I've ranked these in order of their strategic value to the Federation. As you can see, well over half represent significant advances in technology." Pelz said nothing, merely stared back at her. Naomi had far more material to go. "Breakdowns on the estimated monetary value of these achievements are available, but I think you are already well aware of Q's value. I will provide this information to the other interested parties at tomorrow's meeting, along with some other relevant statistics." She looked back at Pelz, who remained mum. Pelz was fascinated by this new side of Naomi. She'd come to his a supplicant before; seeing her competent and in-charge was quite a different view. He had first looked only at the surface, seeing a beautiful young woman with a position oddly incongruent with her title and claimed experience, and jumping to the obvious conclusion. But he could see now, in her altered demeanor, qualities which would not be out-of-place in a starship commander. "But you were already in possession of those facts," Naomi continued calmly. "And a man like you must certainly be aware that others are equally aware of Q's value. Which means that all of what has gone up until now is a bluff. I haven't been able to prove that, but I know that must be true. You aren't stupid enough to hand Q over to his enemies, gift-wrapped, with a bow around him." Pelz smiled ironically, showing his teeth. "How flattering. I don't believe I've ever been described as not entirely stupid before." Naomi continued, ignoring the interruption. "In lieu of finding your real motives and addressing those, I chose to assemble a few exhibits to graphically demonstrate why forcing Q to work on transwarp is a bad idea, and why your efforts are better spent elsewhere." She turned back to the terminal, calling up stored images from the security monitors. "I understand that video of this detail isn't normally available; however, with the number of assassination attempts the station suffers, constant surveillance is considered an absolute essential. I was able to retrieve this." Naomi started the playback, and turned to Pelz, watching his reactions. She couldn't look at the images herself; they were too painful for her. Assembling this had caused her to break down in tears; she couldn't afford to lose face like that right now. The images rolled out mercilessly, beginning with Anderson's attempt at haranguing Q into working on transwarp, then forwarding through the next three days in a flash of images, showing Q in brief fragmentary glimpses as he grew gaunter and more drawn from lack of sleep and hunger. The lack of monitoring in their quarters had made those the most difficult images for Naomi to obtain. Finally, the frantic comm to Sickbay from Anderson came through, audio only, and then the most painful sight of all, Q being transported into Sickbay, catatonic, nearly dead, Li's team working over him. Naomi watched Pelz's expressionless face as she listened to the events unspool; her own arrival, and her harangue of Anderson. Finally it was done, freezing on the final image of Naomi bending over Q, face haggard with worry, while Q stared up at the ceiling, uncomprehending of anything going on around him. "That, by the way, if you missed it, was what happened when the commodore attempted to force Q into working on transwarp. It didn't work. And it would never work. His objections run far deeper than mere rhetoric and childish refusals." Naomi looked at Pelz, her gaze level and challenging. "Now tell me that you believe continuing to persecute and harass this man is a wise career move." "My dear, persecution is a very strong word..." Pelz started to say, objecting almost automatically. Her presentation had moved him more than he cared to admit. He'd received a full report on the incident, of course, but it had been a dry thing, reducing what, in Naomi's playback, was a broken man driven to the brink of suicide by pressures beyond his control into yet another offhand refusal by a stubborn, troublesome Federation asset and leech. Naomi leaned forward. "I have no desire to accuse you of anything, admiral." A lie, but she'd forego the pleasure if Pelz would leave Q alone. Pelz did *not* want to know what her back-up plan was. Since sleeping with him was out of the question, due in part to her own ethics but mostly to the grim realization that it probably wouldn't do any good; that left her with only one option. To frame Pelz for attempted rape. Naomi didn't want to do that, but if Pelz didn't back down, she couldn't see any other options. "But for you to ask Q to work on transwarp amounts to persecution because he *cannot* do such a thing." Pelz stared at her for a long moment, as if he were a leopard deciding whether to pounce on an antelope, then sighed finally, shaking his head regretfully. "I could go forward with this. I have the power." "Having power means having the wisdom not to use it," Naomi said quietly. He nodded reluctantly. "A lesson I learned long ago, in a place not too far from here." "So?" Naomi asked, trying not to show how much she cared about this. "Killing the goose that lays the golden eggs has never been my policy, Naomi." Pelz looked at her with serious eyes. "If that would be the result of my actions, then that is not the path I want to take. I am reluctantly convinced that that is indeed the case." Naomi almost collapsed with relief, giving Pelz a very interesting view for a brief moment. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me." His mouth twisted. "I think I have a fair idea." He stood up to show her to the door, regretfully sending her away. The zest had gone out of the chase, which was a sorrow. This one was a prize worth winning, intelligent, persuasive and loyal; but not worth the disruption and hurt it would cause. He overlooked the possibility that he might not be able to win Naomi. There was nothing Jeremy Pelz had ever wanted that he had not been able to get, by one means or another. "I'll see you at the conference tomorrow, Naomi." Naomi got up gratefully, but paused at the door, looking up at Pelz. For the first, and only, time she could almost see someone in him worth knowing under all the ruthlessness. "Thank you." His eyes held a hint of vulnerability under all the armor. He'd seen something else in that presentation, other than Q's humanity. He'd seen a loyalty and a depth of character in Naomi that he very rarely saw from anyone. She was already attractive to him as an object to conquer, but seeing her as more left her both desirable beyond measure, and out of his reach. Because to take her would tear all three of them to pieces. "Naomi... leave. Before I can't let you." Naomi took the hint and fled, leaving a brooding man behind her, watching her go. **** Naomi stepped into the conference room, eyes automatically going to Q. He was seated in a dominating position in the room, one carefully calculated to draw the maximum amount of attention to him. He looked especially imposing today, all calculated hardness and angles, no hint of vulnerability anywhere. Q glanced at her, and the look in his eyes froze her where she stood. It wasn't even cold, rather slightly amused, as though she were too insignificant to even be angry at, important enough only to be a bad joke. She would have turned and run then, but her business here was too important. Naomi forced herself to move forward and find her own seat, heart leaden in her chest. Q had already apparently dismissed her from memory, and was deigning to be talked at by Commodore Anderson. Pelz entered moments later, showing no visible sign of discomfort at being outmaneuvered by Q for the best position in the room. Without any formalities, the admiral launched into his speech. "I have decided that..." Q cut him off at the knees. "What you've decided is unimportant. I no longer have any need of Starfleet's protection or its benevolent role as pimp." Anderson dropped her head into her hand, taking a deep breath. Why was she here? Why hadn't she taken a nice quiet post near Bajor, or as a diplomatic liaison with Cardassia? Her head pounded, but she didn't move, didn't want to look up. Naomi stared at Q, taken completely unaware by his announcement. What did he think he was doing? Had he gone completely mad? She had to stop him before he did something stupid. Naomi stood up, automatically drawing all eyes to her. "There's no need for any sacrifice, Q. Admiral Pelz has agreed not to press the transwarp issue." Pelz nodded. "That is correct." Q glowered at the both of them. He despised Pelz and, at the moment, Naomi as well. How dare she trade one sort of prostitution for another? He didn't need her charity. He was quite capable of taking care of himself. Naomi stared at Q, sincerity written across every line of her face. "It's all right. I fixed it." That made him even more furious with her, with them all. In icy tones, Q said, "That's entirely irrelevant. I would have refused to work on transwarp in any case." Naomi sat down, conscious of everyone looking at her. "Good." Q wasn't finished. "I won't be a puppet for Starfleet to move around." "What choice do you have?" Pelz asked mildly. Q dismissed that question with a disdainful flick of his wrist. "The strings have been cut. You've provided me with *excellent* protection for three years and I'm ever so terribly grateful for that." Anderson groaned inwardly at the sarcasm in Q's tone. She rubbed the back of her neck. "But I don't need your protection. I don't need anything at all from you." "You'll die in two weeks," the admiral predicted grimly. Naomi stared at Q, comprehension dawning on her face as she realized what he was talking about. He really didn't need Starfleet anymore if he was saying what she thought he was saying. But if that were true, what was he going to do? Where was he going to go? And was he planning to take her with him? Q laughed. "Oh, no, my dear admiral, I will not. You see, I had a visitor recently, a relative of mine, you could say, who informed me that he would see that the attacks stopped." Q avoided telling the complete truth, which was that the Continuum had been deliberately informing would-be assassins where to find him. Too damaging to his image. Pelz looked at Anderson. "Is this true?" Anderson didn't take her eyes off Q. She was beginning to respect this side of him, even though she would cheerfully confine him to quarters for the rest of his natural life if she thought that would have any effect on his cocky self-assurance and ability to irritate her. She nodded. "No one's gotten past Security in the past month." "What about those who didn't get past Security?" Pelz asked, by way of clarification. Anderson shrugged. "I'm only directly kept informed of the major attempts, not the minor ones." Q took over the conversation again. "So even you can see that I have no need of Starfleet. Rather, it is *Starfleet* who has need of me." Q leaned back in his chair, casually playing with his sleeves. "Of course, if two minor improvements in communications technology, and a few minor advances in physics aren't enough for Starfleet to bid high for my services, then I suppose I'll have to look elsewhere. Perhaps with the Daystrom Institute. Or even the Klingons." Pelz didn't take the threat of Q going to outside sources terribly seriously. That the Daystrom Institute would leap at the chance of getting Q was a given; they'd do the polka in hula skirts if it made Q happy. But the real threat there was someone else getting hold of Q. Once Q was outside Starfleet protection, someone like, say, the Cardassians, might be very happy to snatch him up and drain him of every bit of knowledge he'd been withholding for so long. However, if he didn't deal with Q, Pelz knew that Q might very well go elsewhere on his own. Without a definite need for Starfleet, Q had no motive to stay. Reluctantly, the admiral cleared his throat. "What did you have in mind?" **** The details were negotiated successfully over several hours, Naomi throwing in occasional fillips which made Pelz glance unhappily at her, and Q demanding enormous concessions which Anderson did her best to moderate. However, in the end, both parties had a contract which, if not making them totally happy, they were willing to live with. It could not be immediately agreed upon due to the need for the proper bureaucratic process; however, Pelz accepted it informally in the name of Starfleet. Q left the room with great dignity, only his long angry strides betraying how he felt about what had just happened. He'd won, but the edge was off the victory for him due to what Naomi had done. Naomi abandoned her chair, scurrying after him. She had to explain. And apologize for the one great sin she had just committed -- upstaging him. The admiral sat very still, watching them go, and his eyes held their own counsel. **** Naomi caught up with Q just in time to see him disappearing into his own room, ignoring her, exactly as he had been doing since this business with Admiral Pelz began. This time, Naomi followed him. Q turned on her, expression vicious. "Get out. I didn't invite you in here, and I don't want you in here." Naomi held up her hands in a posture of surrender. "I just wanted to apologize." "Apology accepted. Now leave." Naomi looked at him quizzically. "You don't want to hear me grovel?" Actually, he wouldn't mind terribly. She'd been irritating him for so long. But his nerves were stretched on end by having her around. He needed her so badly, that he was restraining himself from reaching out to her by his will alone. He couldn't let himself want her, when she was demonstratably not even on his side anymore, when all she did was hurt him. But he had no choice. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her. His pitiably weak feelings didn't care about what she'd done. The best Q could do was to keep from acting on that wayward desire, to retain what little dignity he had left. "No." Naomi read his stiff posture, the way he simply stood there, neither turning away from her nor threatening her. She didn't understand what he felt, but she was willing to take a chance. Naomi went down on her knees in front of Q, expression earnest. "I'm sorry. I've been evil, no-good, and very bad. I've engaged in admiral-baiting for my own amusement and to try to get you off the hook, and consequently spoiled your own plans. I'm despicable, and unworthy to be in your presence." A human hearing that would have been embarrassed. But Q was only technically human. "And you expect me to believe that?" Naomi looked up at him quizzically. "It's the truth. I really was trying to get Pelz to leave you alone." "Is that what you call it?" Q said viciously. "Call what?" Naomi blushed as she suddenly caught Q's meaning. "There was never anything between us. Believe me. The man is slime." "That's what you say now that your lover is off for other places." "Oh, yes. We were lovers, all right, and I can't stand being parted from him. I just adored the way his little pig eyes kept travelling over my cleavage. I thought it was just adorable the way he called me Naomi and kept trying to pinch my rear. I've always been terribly fond of men who assume I'm something other than a programmer." Q began to suspect he was being made fun of. "He sounds like your type then." Naomi quirked her brows at him. "I *don't* think so. Unless my type has suddenly become patronizing morons who think I'm dumb just because I happen to have breasts." She sat down, getting the cramp out of her knees. "So are you going to kick me out for my unforgivable disloyalty in upstaging you in front of most of the starbase?" Q scowled darkly at her. "Would you go?" "Do you really want me to?" That was a question he most definitely did not want to answer. "Why would I be asking you to go if I didn't want you to?" That wasn't a yes, and Naomi knew it, understood it. "To see if I would?" She knelt up again, preparing to make one more apology. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I'm a terrible person. Can you ever forgive me?" "No," Q said flatly, but Naomi read something else in his stance. "I suppose I deserve that." She reached out a hand to him, laying it gently on his calf. Q had no idea what Naomi thought she was doing. Having her touch him was an agony too great to bear. He needed it so much, that it was like acid on raw nerves. He broke away from her stiffly, and went to sit on the bed. "Of course you do." Naomi felt hurt. Maybe she had lost him for once and for all this time. But why? Why was he so hurt, so upset? She went to Q, kneeling next to him, hands on his knees. "Are you really trying to get rid of me?" She was touching him again, and Q wanted to tear away from her, to curl up in a ball and cry. But he couldn't do that. It would be too humiliating. Admitting that he was affected by her slightest touch would be to hand her a weapon against him, and he couldn't do that. Instead, he sat there stiffly, submitting to her because he couldn't do anything else. "If I were trying to get rid of you, you'd be gone." Naomi's eyes shone, and she unconsciously started stroking his knees. That meant he wasn't trying to get rid of her. "I can stay?" "I didn't say that," Q said irritably, even more distracted now. It was all of heaven and hell to have her there, everything he couldn't, shouldn't have, right within his grasp. Naomi sighed again. She couldn't figure him out, couldn't understand what was wrong or what she should be doing. With a gesture of defeat, she laid her head in his lap, feeling tears of frustration prick her eyes. She couldn't understand what was going on, didn't know what to do. With a shock, Naomi found she was sobbing helplessly, arms coming round to clasp onto him, tears falling on him and undoubtably ruining the fabric of his trousers. She didn't care about his clothes. A hand hesitantly settled on her head, and began stroking her hair. Naomi nearly choked with surprise. She raised her head and looked at him, eyes red and face streaked with tears. His hand was still tangled in her hair, resting near her cheek. Q looked back at her, not saying a word. She covered his hand with her own, turning it to place a kiss in his palm. Q closed his eyes against the intensity of what he felt when she did that. Naomi levered herself up until she could reach him, and kissed him tentatively on the mouth, expecting him to reject her. His lips responded to hers almost hungrily, as if he'd be wanting this and waiting for it as much as she had, which was impossible. His hand dropped to her shoulder, but he didn't draw away from her. Daring greatly, Naomi pulled herself up level with him, half- kneeling between his legs, half-lying on him, tucking her head into the curve of his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his chest. When he didn't push her away, she found tears coming again, and this time didn't stop, even when his arms came around her. The moment was too precious to waste on wondering why or thinking about how this would inevitably end. For a timeless period, she accepted his comfort, but finally she pulled away, looking at him, feeling very vulnerable. Her knees ached though, and she got up beside him on the bed, flexing her legs to get the cramps out. She sat crosswise, facing him. Naomi looked at him for a long moment before she spoke, memorizing his features, the way his hair was artfully arranged, the set of his mouth. She could probably seduce him into letting her stay, could probably convince him by using his needs against him, but she couldn't, wouldn't do that. She'd already cried in front of him, and that was manipulation enough. She hadn't intended it to be manipulation, but it was. To cry was to invite pity, to curry favor, and she despised it as a weakness in herself, even as she understood it in others. She had to let Q make his own decision, unforced by her actions. Even if that decision shattered her. When she did speak, her tone was defenseless, naked. "If you want me to leave you, I'll go. I don't want to hurt you. I've never wanted to hurt you. I... I was trying to help and I guess things didn't turn out that way. I..." Naomi choked off an incipient sob in her throat. "I really mean it. I will go if that's what you want." Q's automatic response was to tell her to leave, to see if she would, but he checked it. If he told her to go, and she went, then he'd be reduced to the humiliating expedient of going after her and begging her to come back. Q could see himself doing that, and while hating his weakness, knew that it was entirely too likely. Despite what she'd done, despite her disloyalty, he needed her. And, after all, disloyalty was too strong a word to use for it. She hadn't really betrayed him. She'd played a prank on someone he disliked. How was that really disloyalty? If he'd known about the practical joke, he'd have been just as happy to participate in it. And Pelz had been satisfyingly humiliated. Q had to admit that. He allowed himself a slight quirk of his lips. There was no question of that. Of course, Naomi had humiliated him as well, with her sudden announcement. Q had had his own retribution planned for the admiral, his own surprise and Naomi had pulled the rug out from under him with her announcement that he no longer needed his grand gesture. That had stung. Q *had* gotten the contract as well, thanks in part to Naomi and her hold over Pelz, but that wasn't the point. She had kept her plans secret from him, and that had caused him to be embarrassed. A small part of him admitted that they hadn't exactly been speaking at the time for her to tell him anything. Perhaps it hadn't really been as much Naomi's fault as he felt. Maybe he was wrong. With an awareness that he was clutching at straws, grasping any rationale which would allow him to permit Naomi's continued presence in his life, Q fastened onto that rationalization. Naomi continued to hold Q's gaze, trembling slightly with the fear that this time she might really have blew it. "Your love of melodramatic gestures doesn't become you," Q said. Naomi smiled with relief at Q's snappish tone. He hadn't tried to push her away. When he could have said 'Go away' and have it actually happen, he'd chosen not to say it. The insult was almost pro forma, and Naomi understood that, and responded in kind. "Look who's talking. You never told anyone you were going to spring that contract renegotiation on Pelz. You caught everyone completely by surprise. Now *that* was melodramatic." "Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Q said, preening. "However, I do it much better than you." "Probably true. You have more experience at causing scenes than I do." Q regally inclined his head, "I suppose that accounts for your lack of subtlety. See that it doesn't happen again." Naomi went to him, burying her face in his chest. "Never again. I promise." "And stop these childish displays of physical affection as well." "Awww," Naomi said, smiling up at him. "Do I *have* to?" Her hand found its way inside his shirt, lightly brushing his bare skin. "If I said yes, would you stop?" Q asked acerbically, trying not to show how affected he was by such a simple thing as a touch. Then his shirt was hanging open, and both of her hands were on him, stroking him, dancing teasingly over his skin. "Are you asking me to?" Q shuddered slightly, and Naomi responded by flattening her palms on his chest, no longer teasing, but instead, giving him the deeper touch he seemed to want. Q made no attempt to stop her. The shameful truth was that he wanted this. He looked down at her bright head. The last few days had been full of erotic nightmares, dreams which seemed pleasant enough, if you could use such a weak word for it, when he was having them, but were intensely distressing when he woke up and found Naomi not there. The worst part about these dreams, other than the fact that they were about something he wanted but could no longer have, was that he had been the aggressor in each of them. In his waking life, Q longed intensely for control, and preferred the handful of sexual encounters when he had indeed taken the lead. Not that he wanted to have sex, or needed to perform such a revolting activity. Which was precisely what made his dreams so horrifying. In them, he needed this, wanted this, and was initiating contact between himself and Naomi in order to get this. He was a ravening beast, driven by lust, and Q cringed inside at the very memory. It was, Q was sure, why Vulcans maintained that glacial reserve. They suffered the ravages of pon farr, a time when they couldn't control their mating urges and became animals, forcing themselves on each other. Q had gleefully delighted in the knowledge of such weaknesses in the Vulcan armor. Now that he had some of the same vulnerabilities, Q thought he understood why they had to have such armor. To protect themselves from the overwhelming embarrassment of having surrendered mind, body and soul to that reproductive drive and made your partner into nothing but a living sex toy. Naomi had tugged his shirt off, and was in the process of removing his other clothes from him, while Q sat unresisting, watching her every move, trying not to show how much she was affecting him, and failing miserably, the tension written in every line of his body giving him away. A memory flitted across his mind then of a dream he'd had just the night before, disturbing in its eroticism, the sensual images overwhelming to him. He'd gone to Naomi, unable to resist his own desires despite everything he'd thought she'd done to him. With a need so powerful it was upsetting to remember, he'd stripped her clothes from her as she was doing to him now. And then he'd buried himself deep inside her body, forcing himself on her, unmindful of her, or of anything at all other than the need clawing at his insides. It had felt good, even right; but when he'd woken up, Q had despised himself. And missed Naomi. He'd almost gone to her then, but he couldn't, not with that image in his mind. Naomi stood on the floor next to the bed, and took off her dress, letting it slide off her body onto the floor. Q couldn't take his eyes from her, the simple sensuality of that gesture sending an uncomfortable pulse of fire throughout his body. Naomi watched Q closely, shivering at the intensity of his gaze. She could tell that he wanted this as much or more than she did, even though he wasn't moving, wasn't speaking. Naked now, she stepped between his thighs, placing her hands on his shoulders, and leaning into him for a kiss, her body pressing up against his. Q couldn't bear this, couldn't handle the exquisite torture. His hands went to her hips, and he intended to push her away, but the feeling of her silken skin under his hands, her proximity and her mouth on his, all combined to confuse his senses and wants. Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer in to him, nestling her close against the part of him that needed her the most. Part of him cried out for this, parched of her touch, her nearness. He didn't want her, didn't *need* anyone in his life. He certainly wasn't dependent on her. But it was true that he had always had this kind of closeness, an intimacy so encompassing that human love was a mockery of it. And now he was discarded and alone, and the only individual who was willing to make any contact with him at all was standing there in front of him. He resisted an urge to bury his head in her chest and hold her tightly to him. Everything he cared for was taken away from him, smashed into little bits like a careless child with a new toy. Naomi broke away from this kiss, settling one hand on his cheek, looking directly at Q. He was as close to defenseless as she'd ever seen him, his eyes naked. Her heart went out to him, unable to resist his vulnerability. "You don't have to be scared," Naomi said gently, fingers moving up to brush through his hair. "We've done this tens of times before." "Don't remind me," Q said, with a slight edge to his voice, fighting an urge to pull her even closer to him. "You have no idea how nauseating the thought is to me." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "We *could* do this in the bathroom, you know." "In the *bathroom*?" Naomi smiled at him. "Of course, it's too bad you don't have a bathtub." Q looked suspiciously at her, not quite sure whether he was being teased or not. "I suppose this is a perversity you engage in often?" Naomi shook her head, eyes twinkling. "I wouldn't mind making an exception for you, however." "Please, spare me your twisted fantasies." His protest was weak, his voice hoarse and not entirely under his control. Naomi mock-pouted. "You just don't want to get wet." "I've been forced and coerced into a number of unpleasant, disgusting activities by your hormonal urges." Naomi grinned at him. "Yes, you have. Would you like me to force you into more of them?" "Why would I want that?" Naomi tilted her head, the smile not going away. She felt as if she were being challenged, and she could never resist a challenge. He probably wasn't coordinated enough to handle the shower, but that didn't eliminate everything. "No reason." She reached down for his hand, and kissed the palm. "Would you like to touch me?" "I'm already touching you." He had his hand on her hip. "Good. Then you won't have any problems with this." She laid his hand on her breast, and then leaned forward into him, arms going around his neck, body pressing ever so close to his. His thumb reached out hesitantly to flick at her nipple, and Naomi groaned, even as she went back to nibbling on his bottom lip. "Yes, that feels good," Naomi said with a moan, kissing him softly by way of a reward. Q felt inexpressibly puffed up by that compliment. Of course, it was a lie; he knew he was selfish and not terribly dexterous, not to mention entirely naked, but it still gave him a good feeling inside to hear he was doing things right. She pushed him backwards, toppling him over flat on the bed. From her position lying half-sprawled on top of him, she grinned down at him. "Now I can have my wicked way with you." "Do I ever have any choice in this?" Q said sulkily, with an almost plaintive overtone to his voice. "Is this all you ever think about?" Naomi grinned evilly at Q, then slipped to one side of him, hand drifting lazily down his chest to his waist, tracing patterns on his skin. "Do you want me to stop?" Naomi asked, her hand poised tantalizingly close to his least favorite part of his body. Q stared back at her, the desire to be right and to win conflicting with an equally great desire for her hand to keep going. He knew what would occur if she did. He could vividly imagine what would happen, and part of him longed for that, even as his intellect told him that this was depraved and debased and no part of the higher functions of the mind. Naomi's hand dipped down lower, brushing the inside of his thigh, and Q's hips jerked, involuntarily trying to bring himself closer to her teasing touch. "Do you?" Q closed his eyes, totally humiliated. "No." And then she was touching him, stroking him, naked body pressed against him, mouth on his nipple, more sensation flooding in than he could handle. He moaned without shame, humiliation fading in that sensual tide. Such a little thing to say for such immense rewards. Her hand caressed his hard flesh, the longed for touch everything that he remembered and anticipated, but still not nearly enough. Q groaned as she nibbled lightly on his nipple, the tiny teeth pricks sending waves of sensation through him. Naomi lifted her head and looked at him, taking in his glazed expression. With a secret smirk, she slithered down and replaced her hand with her mouth. The heat and the wetness were almost too much for Q. He had almost forgotten how that felt, and his imagination ran a dim second to the sleek caress he was now receiving. Despite the fact that he still couldn't get over the idea that humans would voluntarily use their excretory organs for pleasure -- and actually put them in their mouths as well -- Q was finding that he enjoyed this, even looked forward to this. The only frightening thought that remained was what if Naomi expected him to return the compliment and do the same thing to her. The thought petrified Q. He couldn't imagine it. He *would* throw up then. No question. But for now, Q was overwhelmed by the feeling of the silky brush of her hair across his thighs as she bent to him, surrounding him with the velvet softness of her mouth. He stiffened as the pleasure started to be too much, his hands coming down to her head, unmindful of how they were digging into her hair. Naomi broke off, and looked up at him. Q moaned, and nearly started to cry with frustration. He'd been so close. Despite his pain, Q was half-relieved that she had stopped, that he wouldn't have to do something incredibly disgusting to Naomi to experience that feeling. Q shuddered, remembering how it had felt to do this with Harry, how Harry hadn't stopped, and how good it had felt. Desire hummed through him, an intense sexual need, and he looked up at Naomi with haunted eyes, almost visibly begging for her to finish this. She laid beside him, one hand stroking down his body in a fashion that was meant to be comforting, but was anything but. "Would you like to be on top?" Q almost growled at her lazy tone. Frustration and need were making him angry. Surprising Naomi completely, Q raised himself up, his lips quirking evilly. "You'll regret this." "I will?" Naomi asked, a little startled. 'Regret what?' would have been her next question, if Q had been in any mood for talking, which he wasn't. Without another word, Q was looming over her, hands going to her hips, sinking into her. Naomi acquiesced without argument, stroking his shoulders even as she did her best to accommodate him. As soon as he was settled, he began to move hard inside her, needing the intensity and power of this. He couldn't quite get the feeling of overwhelming surrender that had been teetering over him before, but there was an urgency to this that hadn't been there before, and Q found that almost as good. His hands slipped under her shoulders, seeking more leverage. Naomi wound an arm around his neck, pulling him down to her to kiss him. He resisted at first, but then let himself be pulled down. He was sweating now, the physical effort going unnoticed in the greater drive to achieve the goal, dimly sensed, ahead of him. The feeling of lips against his mouth, her tongue exploring inside him as he was doing more blatantly to her, was exciting to Q rather than disgusting as it should have been. Then the feeling was there again, that magnificent feeling that he'd almost had when she'd had her mouth on him, a rushing line of fire, moving through him. He shuddered and cried out, collapsing on her with a feeling of relief that it had finally happened, along with a sense of satiated pleasure. Maybe there were times when being human wasn't entirely bad. He could get used to this. Grim thoughts immediately formed in his head about how getting used to this wasn't a good idea, that he'd been alone for a long time before this and would be alone after this, and when he was alone, he'd regret ever having surrendered to this base physical need at all, but Q shoved them away. The immediacy of the moment was too much on him. He was lying on top of a naked woman. And besides, he had a revenge to pursue. His eyes lit up, and his mouth curled into a sneering smile. He slipped to one side of Naomi, looming over her. "Now, I believe I said you'd regret teasing me." "Teasing you? I wasn't teasing you," Naomi protested ineffectually, even as her mind was racing. What exactly did he have in mind as far as making her regret it? Overstimulated by the activity they'd just been engaging in, her mind was throwing up all kinds of erotic possibilities that made her squirm uncomfortably. Q couldn't mean anything like that, though. Could he? A lazy hand settled on her shoulder, stroking her lightly, the touch just light enough to be a tickle. Naomi wriggled, and a firm weight descended across her thighs, pinning her to the bed. "You weren't trying to evade me, were you?" Q asked, a little dangerously. Naomi stared back at him, a measuring look on her face. "What are you doing?" "Just returning the favor." His hand circled her breast, never quite touching it, then moved down to her sensitive ribs. Naomi pushed against Q, but he was immovable. "This isn't fair! I never tickled you!" "Who said anything about tickling?" His hand moved further down, leaving her skin tingling where he'd touched her, and wanting more. "What *are* you doing, then?" Q's eyes glinted. "Do you want to spoil the surprise?" He bent to her then, his teasing hand at her hip as his mouth covered her nipple. If he hadn't, she would have questioned him further, but right then, she didn't care about why he was doing this. He could tie a bright red bow around her neck and she wouldn't protest in the slightest. She knew she should care, that whatever revenge he was planning would be epic indeed, but with his lips hot against her skin, and the suckling sensation pulling at her from within as well as without, she couldn't muster the willpower to resist him. "Oh, yes, that feels good." "Does it?" Q asked, in a rather matter-of-fact way. He'd stopped. Naomi felt sulky. That wasn't at all fair. But then his hand was moving between her thighs, and she shifted, giving him more room. Q teased her with a light touch, when she wanted it all, right *now*. Naomi moaned, shifting her body to put more of it in contact with his, begging wordlessly for more. And he gave it to her. Naomi clutched onto him, unaware that she was doing so, face hidden against his chest. She needed his touch desperately. Not for the sexual release so much as just the knowledge that he still wanted her, still accepted her. She clung to him, trying to absorb as much of him as she could. Not that she minded being driven out of her mind by this frustrating, impossible man and what he was doing to her body. No, she didn't mind at all. Q watched her carefully, judging the effect of what he was doing to her by the way she moved and the sounds she was making. She *was* rather loud. He was getting good at this, Q thought smugly. It was no surprise, really. Sex was a trivial physical trick. If these mentally impaired humans could learn it, there was no reason he couldn't. As Naomi's moans reached a frantic pitch, he moved away from her, lacing his fingers behind his head, after very carefully wiping his fingers off on the sheet. Disgusting. Naomi grabbed at him, leaving fingernail marks on his arm and chest. "What do you think you're *doing*?" Q smiled with relish. "Getting revenge." As Naomi glared up at him, Q reached down and gently stroked a strand of hair back from her forehead. Naomi retaliated by biting his nipple. Q hissed slightly, overreacting to that tiny shock of pain. His eyes narrowed and he looked down at Naomi again. "You'll pay for that." His hand came down and stroked her warm, soft skin. She curled closer to him, hand going to his chest, touching him lightly. "If this is what you call payment, then I'm eternally in debt to you." "This is just the beginning." She shivered and clung close to him, letting he do what he liked to her. Her fantasies went like this, although she'd never dreamed that they could ever come true. The idea of Q voluntarily doing this... and of course, it *had* to be voluntary. The whole point of the fantasy was someone else, Q, forcing her to find pleasure, forcing her to do whatever his undoubtably inventive imagination could dream up. You couldn't lead someone into something like this. They had to want to do it. And Q wanted to... Naomi shivered with delight and a little bit of fear, wondering what he might have in mind. Then she lost the ability to think as his hand brushed past her stomach and down between her legs. It was just right, and not enough, never enough. She was whimpering, unconscious of it or how she held onto him, as if afraid he might leave her. The pleasure was overwhelming, tantalizing, and tormenting. Her fingernails dug into his skin as she came so close, so very close to that pinnacle. And then he stopped, stopped completely, and she almost cried. Naomi writhed on the bed, her entire body begging for release. "Please, please, please, more, more." She needed horribly, needed him to stop teasing and give her his full attention, needed the orgasm which her body was demanding. Q laid next to her, resting on one elbow, studying her with a mocking smile. "Do you remember when you said I could do anything I wanted to you?" "Yes." And just the thought of that promise, and the sound of his voice reinforcing the promise, sent another jolt of pleasure through her body, another surge higher and she tensed, moaning hoarsely. "Please, Q, please." "No." Q's smile grew larger, as his hand slipped away from her and trailed down her inner thigh. He could get to like this. With his hand gone, she could think, if only for a moment. He was driving her insane! In another minute, it would be too late, and then Q would find out what sorry really meant. Naomi was certain that if she didn't get what she needed right then, she was going to lose all semblance of control and try to kill him. Q smiled mockingly at her. "Do you want me to stop?" "No!" Naomi said emphatically, her body pushing against him reinforcing her need. "Please, don't stop. Please." He laughed, sending shivers down her spine. But before she could panic, and before her oversensitized body could revolt, he was giving her everything she needed, and this time, not stopping, not torturing her, but simply being everything she needed him to be. The sharp pleasure washed over her almost immediately as he touched her, more pain than pleasure by this point, as teased and tormented as she'd been. But Naomi didn't care. It was what she needed, and she gave herself up to it, clinging desperately to Q, and crying out his name. Afterwards, lying there in the dimness of the room, Naomi spoke softly. "I love you." Q put his arm around her, holding her close to him. "You're demented; you know that, don't you?" Naomi smiled sleepily and kissed his chest. "Yes, I had heard that rumor. I hope you don't mind." Q pondered what to say back to her about that, but in the few seconds while he was composing the perfect retort, Naomi had fallen asleep. He reached over her, and tugged a blanket up to cover them, tucking the corners around her proprietarily. He could always irritate her with it in the morning. Now that she would *be* there in the morning. Q smiled slightly, then closed his eyes as well, surrendering to sleep.