This a draft of the essay for which I posted my Q questionnaire
a few months ago.  What will happen to this essay eventually, I
haven't a clue (suggestions?), but I thought I should post it,
since so many people who answered my questionnaire expressed
interest in it.  Conciseness has never been one of my
virtues--this is *way* long, but I hope it's both entertaining and
thought-provoking.  John de Lancie's comments are from two
phone interviews in August and November, 1994, and Ron
Moore's comments are from an interview in November 1994. 
Their helpfulness should *not* be construed as implying any
endorsement of my conclusions.  I also want to thank all of you
who answered my questionnaire and even more so those of you
who have read and made comments on this.  Again, my
conclusions are my own; don't blame anybody I quote in this
essay.  Comments are more than welcome--either posted or
e-mailed.  It's in 6 parts, and I've broken it up according to
length, not context. 


Q Rules!
An Unauthorized History
Copyright (c) 1995
Atara Stein (AtaraS@aol.com)

"Q rules!"

"Q kicks ass!  He is by far the best. . . .  Q is the end all be all
of all my aspirations."

"I think that Q is one of the best actors on Star Trek.  I love his
personality and how he is completely sarcastic.  I think that
Picard should be more tolerant of Q's little pranks.  I mean,
he's never ACTUALLY destroyed the universe, has he?  He
just makes them think."  

"Q is so cool; I've never liked a 'bad guy' so much!"

"I think Q is the most sexy and clever being in the entire
galaxy!" 

These comments are representative of fan reactions to Q,
omnipotent superbeing and most popular visitor to the USS
Enterprise NCC-1701 D during the seven-year run of Star Trek: 
The Next Generation.  Q has been the subject of two Star Trek: 
TNG novels (Q-in-Law and Q-Squared by Peter David), can be
purchased as a plastic miniature action figure (described on the
package as "Mischievous Omniscient Being"), has his own
Internet newsgroup (alt.fan.q), provokes impassioned discussion
on other Star Trek newsgroups, and has been the inspiration of
reams of fan fiction.  A survey about Q that I posted on four
Star Trek newsgroups generated over 35 responses, from which
I quote throughout this essay.  How to account for Q's
remarkable popularity and impact on his audience?  The answer
lies in John de Lancie's multilayered performances, in Q's
function as the Enterprise's presiding deity, and in his
relationship with Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart).  To
the humans he encounters, Q is half-devil and half-God,
half-judge and half-protector, half-sadistic tormentor and
half-benevolent despot.  Q does, in fact, rule over Picard and
his crew.  Q abounds in regal gestures like the arrogant snap of
the finger, and he frequently attires himself in costumes of
figures with absolute authority, the all-powerful judge in the
post-atomic horror courtroom in "Encounter at Farpoint" and
"All Good Things . . . ," the Napoleonic marshal in "Hide and
Q," the High Sheriff of Nottingham in "Qpid," and most
explicitly, God in "Tapestry."  Although he is initially a villain,
in the tradition of the spoiled, powerful, and pesky Trelane from
"The Squire of Gothos" (TOS), over the seven years of the
series Q evolves into a hero, providing Captain Jean-Luc Picard
with needed leadership and guidance.  At the same time that Q
serves as an authority figure, he is also the rebel, the outlaw,
the loner, who makes his own rules and does whatever he damn
well pleases.  He defies the authority of his superiors in the Q
Continnum and repeatedly knocks the paragon Picard off his
pedestal of inhuman perfectionism, duty, and self-discipline.  He
simultaneously satisfies our desire for a powerful leader who
can solve all our problems and our desire to rebel against
institutional authority.  Q serves initially as the embodiment of
our own desires for power and autonomy, yet to gain his
viewers' sympathy he must shed some of his arrogance and
acknowledge the value of human life, despite its limitations. 
The ethos of Star Trek: TNG seems to be a faith in human
progress, and whether he is tormenting humans or assisting
them, Q's function in the universe of the series is to question
but ultimately to confirm that faith.  As Q fan Irene Gawel
explains, Q's omnipotence "allows the exploration . . . of the
philosophical/ethical topics that make TNG so intriguing." 
Despite his unceasing contempt for humankind as a species, Q
reveals his own evolving humanity by falling in love with a
human, his alter-ego, his soul's mirror and counterpart, the
object of his mockery and affection, his frustrations and desires,
the man he treats as his private property and his "beloved pet,"
the man he addresses as "mon Capitaine."

I
Alara Rogers, a devoted Q fan and self-described "reformed
Q-hater," struggling to reconcile Q's early and late TNG
appearances, comments, "In the first show, Q was an asshole. 
There's no other way to describe it."  Precisely.  In his
over-the-top performance as humankind's prosecutor, judge,
jury, and potential executioner, de Lancie makes Q into the
quintessential antithesis of all that Star Trek stands for, a
representative of a species Picard eloquently condemns as
"self-righteous life-forms who are eager not to learn but to
prosecute, to judge anything they don't understand or can't
tolerate."  In "Encounter at Farpoint," he accuses humans of
being "a dangerous, savage child-race"; in the series finale, "All
Good Things . . . ," he returns Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick
Stewart), the Captain of the Starship Enterprise, to the
courtroom to convict humans of "being inferior."  Q the
misanthrope sees only humankind's flaws and limitations and
refuses to acknowledge their progress, a hoped-for evolution
that is central to Roddenberry's vision.  In "Encounter at
Farpoint," Q begins his tradition of labeling humans with a
series of uncomplimentary epithets, a tradition that continues
through "All Good Things . . . ."  While Q acknowledges
humankind's potential to evolve into a much higher species, he
repeatedly refers to humans as "a grievously savage race," "a
pitiful species," "foolish, fragile non-entities," "commonplace
little creatures," "a minor species in the grand scheme," and "an
ape-like race," and mocks their ventures into space as "Wasted
effort, considering human intelligence."  In "True Q," when a
crew member challenges Q's credentials as "an expert in
humanity," he responds, "Not a very challenging field of study,
I grant you."  

Q is the clearly designated antagonist; on the premiere of a new
Star Trek series, he arrives on the bridge of the Enterprise
demanding that the ship *cease* boldly going where no one
has gone before.  He announces, "Thou art notified that thy
kind hath infiltrated the galaxy too far already.  Thou art
directed to return to thine own solar system immediately."  In
contrast to the Federation, with its tradition of non-interference
with other species, Q and the Continuum imperialistically
designate themselves as the overseers and judges of humankind. 
Interference is Q's way of life; he feels entitled to throw a force
field around the ship, kidnap the crew, transport them to a
mockery of a courtroom, and threaten their lives.  Q couldn't
care less about the Prime Directive.  We know, of course, that
the Enterprise is going to continue its "trek through the stars"
and that Q is going to be soundly trounced by Captain Picard,
the liberal humanist who confidently extolls humankind's
progress.  At the same time, Q is already proving himself the
questioner; his condemnation of humankind's past behavior is
accurate, as he describes the slaughter of "millions in silly
arguments about how to divide the resources of your little
world" and humans "murdering each other in quarrels over
tribal god images."  He is no match for Picard, though;
although Picard must acknowledge humankind's past brutality,
he reaches a fair and non-violent solution to the puzzle of
Farpoint Station, and Q, muttering "Lucky guess" in a display
of sour grapes, is forced to let the Enterprise continue on her
way.  He refuses to concede defeat, however, insisting, "I see
now it was too simple a puzzle.  Generosity has always been my
weakness."  The episode concludes with a verbal sparring match
between Picard and Q, one that provides a model for their
future interactions:
Picard:  Why do you use other life forms for your recreation?
Q:  If so, you've not provided the best.
Picard:  Leave us.  We've passed your little test.
Q:  Temper, temper, mon Capitaine.
Picard:  Get off my ship!
Q:  I do so only because it suits me to leave.  But I will not
promise never to appear again.

Q's need to disparage humankind is almost desperate, and from
"Farpoint" on, the crew never takes it terribly seriously, aware
that Q feels threatened by human potential and at the same time
is much too fascinated by humans to do them serious damage,
despite his capacity to do so.  While he makes threats and
occasionally temporarily immobilizes various members of the
crew, he never *directly* harms any of them.  

The Q Continuum's concern with human potential is the impetus
behind "Hide and Q," generally acknowledged to be the least
successful of the Q episodes.  It is notable, however, for Q's
explicitly Satanic role and for making clear what direction Q
could *not* continue in.  There was a reason Trelane did not
make repeated appearances, and "Hide and Q" made very clear
that Q would have to change in order to become a viable
returning guest.  Once again Q kidnaps several crew members,
interrupting a mission where lives are at stake, with absolutely
no concern for the consequences, snapping derisively, "Your
species is always suffering and dying."  Despite some heated
exchanges with Picard, Q's interest here is in Riker (Jonathan
Frakes), whom he (correctly) surmises to be an easier target,
someone far more likely than Picard to succumb to the Satanic
temptations he offers--knowledge and power.  With an alluring
voice, he offers "the realization of your most impossible
dreams."  He sets up a "completely unfair" and completely
rigged test, in which the crew is forced to try to prove itself
against heavily-armed "soldier things" in Napoleonic-era
uniforms.  As the test is in fact unfair, the only way Riker can
save his companions is by using the powers Q has lent him. 
Successfully seduced by Q, Riker makes a pact with the devil he
soon regrets.  Although the powers he has been granted do hold
the potential for good, the episode readily demonstrates that Q
has created an instant asshole.  Riker struts with an arrogant,
pompous, and haughty demeanor, begins addressing his
commanding officer by first name, and breaches protocol by
walking out on Picard when the Captain is in mid-sentence and
demanding a meeting, something which is only the Captain's
prerogative.  Riker then makes an utter fool of himself, trying
to force gifts on his his friends that they do not desire and
naively buying Q's line that the Q "think very highly of us." 
Although Riker is, on the surface, the focus of the episode, Q's
visit to the Enterprise really serves to present Roddenberry's
vision in the form of Picard's humanism.  Picard quotes
Hamlet's speech about "What a piece of work is man, how
noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving
how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in
apprehension how like a god," and Q incredulously demands,
"Surely you don't see your species like that, do you?" to which
Picard replies, "I see us one day becoming that, Q."  

Q's function here is purely to provide an occasion for Picard to
express an optimistic faith in human progress that is inextricable
from a belief in the concept of gradual evolution.  Picard insists
that Q's power "is too great a temptation for us at our present
stage of development."  What Wesley tells Riker when turning
down the adulthood Riker has conferred on him also applies to
our species; we have "to get there on [our] own."  Q himself is
the vehicle for Roddenberry's optimism, explaining "It's the
human future which intrigues us . . . and it should concern you
the most.  You see, of all the species, yours cannot abide
stagnation.  Change is at the heart of what you are, but change
into what?  That's the question."  He speculates that humans
may eventually advance "even beyond" his own species.

Although Q almost succeeds in tempting Riker to allow himself
to be the Continuum's guinea pig, so they can study the "human
compulsion" to "learn" and "explore," it is Picard who triumphs
at the end of the episode, thoroughly humiliating both Riker and
Q.  Picard defeats Q with mockery and with his sound
knowledge of human nature.  When Q appears on the bridge in
a monk's robe, intoning, "Let us pray for understanding,"
Picard snaps, "Let us do no such *damn* thing."  But he allows
Riker to go through the ritual of presenting his friends with
parting gifts, for he knows precisely what the result will be.  As
the crew members begin to reject the benefits Riker tries to
confer upon them, the camera occasionally pans toward Picard,
sitting in his captain's chair with a studied confidence and a
slight smile, as events transpire exactly as he anticipated.  When
Riker finally realizes the folly of having signed his soul over to
the devil, he turns to his Captain in shame, admitting, "I feel
like such an idiot," and Picard replies briskly, "Quite right.  So
you should."  Picard's scorn withers both Riker and Q,
rendering both of them the objects of the viewers' laughter.  Q
is unceremoniously whisked off the bridge by his superiors,
protesting, "No!  No!  If I could just do one more thing!" and
howling melodramatically as he disappears.  The episode
concludes with a moral tag so explicit it should be engraved on
a plaque.  Data asks, "Sir, how is it that the Q can handle time
and space so well and us so badly?" and Picard replies
aphoristically, "Perhaps someday we will discover that space
and time are simpler than the human equation."

Despite its lack of subtlety and other failures, "Hide and Q" is
instructive.  It establishes Q as an explicitly Satanic tempter and
defeats him so thoroughly that he obviously has nowhere to go
but up.  Although his misanthropy and his style of banter with
Picard will be retained in subsequent episodes, there would be
no point to yet another episode where Q appears, torments the
crew, mocks human limitations, and is once again trounced by
Picard in an eloquent speech.  Q needed a new twist. 
Fortunately for his subsequent appearances on the show, de
Lancie establishes some interesting facets of Q's demeanor that
will provide significant material later.  One is simply the energy
of his performance, particularly given the stilted lines he is
given, lines such as "That's why we selected *you*, Riker, to
become part of the Q, so that you can bring to us this human
need and hunger that we may better understand it."  Uh-huh. 
Right.  When Riker asks Picard for permission to present his
friends with gifts, Q declares, with a panoply of exaggerated
gestures and facial expressions, "Oh how touching.  A plea to
his former Captain.  May I please give happiness to my friends,
sir?  Please sir?" in a voice dripping with a sarcasm so tangible
one could bottle it.  Even in this episode, he is such fun to
watch, particularly in Q's confrontations with Picard, that he
had to be brought back in some fashion.  This episode also
subtly (or not so subtly) establishes Q's polymorphous sexuality. 
His demeanor toward Riker during their conversation on the
planet is campy and seductive; he draws close to the first
officer, invading his personal space and giving him a series of
low-lidded seductive looks while speaking in a bedroom voice
that incongruously undermines the pretentious dialog about
human evolution.  One viewer, who had never seen a Q episode
before, watched a minute or so of this scene, then asked, "Is Q
gay?"  Q's smile and tone of voice with which he delivers the
line "You're gonna miss me" is far more flirtatious than
menacing.  While de Lancie manages to kindle a slight flame
under this scene with Frakes, despite the ponderous weight of
the dialog, it is obvious that his onscreen chemistry with Stewart
is much more compelling.  In subsequent episodes, Picard will
be the object of Q's attention.

II
"Q Who," Q's second season appearance, serves as a
transitional episode from Q's role as villain to his evolving role
as protector and guide.  And as Ronald D. Moore (writer of
"Tapestry" and co-writer of "All Good Things . . . ," co-writer
of Star Trek:  Generations and currently supervising producer
and writer for Star Trek:  Deep Space Nine), notes, this episode
was also crucial in establishing the personal relationship between
Q and Picard that is central to Q's appeal.  In "Q Who," Q is
still the devil, whispering in a sinister fashion, his lips touching
Picard's ear as he tries to compel the Captain to eat from the
Tree of Knowledge he offers.  He remains as autocratic and
interfering as ever, kidnapping Picard in a shuttlecraft and
threatening to keep him there, for decades if necessary, until he
concedes to Q's demands.  His demeanor is far more threatening
and menacing than in his earlier appearances; he bites off his
words with ferocity, as he declares with a hiss, "We have
busi*ness*, Picard."  When Picard staunchly insists, "Keeping
me a prisoner here will not compel me to discuss anything with
you," Q whips around behind the Captain's shoulder, places his
lips immediately next to his ear, and threatens, "It will in
*time*."  That move, appearing immediately behind the person
he is addressing and speaking directly into his or her ear, in a
Satanic manner that is both seductive and menacing, becomes a
part of Q's repertoire in subsequent appearances.  In reaction,
Picard sits understandably rigid; having an omnipotent entity at
such close range would be undoubtedly unsettling.  In this
episode, Q clearly has the upper hand, and he knows it, casually
bouncing a ball against the wall of the shuttlecraft and snapping
off each catch with precision, as he awaits Picard's inevitable
concession.  He notes, "I'm ageless Picard; you are not."  Q
may be the devil, but he is a devil who knows a hell of a lot
better than the Captain of the Starship Enterprise does.  Q is
right when he describes the knowledge he can make available to
Picard and his crew:  "You judge yourselves against the pitiful
adversaries you've encountered so far.  The Romulans, the
Klingons.  They're nothing compared to what's waiting. 
Picard, you are about to move into areas of the galaxy
containing wonders more incredible than you can possibly
imagine and terrors to freeze your soul.  I offer myself as guide
only to be rejected out of hand."  When Picard arrogantly
proclaims (while denying that he is being arrogant), "Your help
is not required," he is dead wrong.  It doesn't take a rocket
scientist to figure out that an omnipotent being could be a very
useful ally when exploring uncharted areas of the galaxy and
encountering hostile races (a theme Peter David explores in
Q-in-Law).  Granted, it would not be particularly good for
Picard and his crew to grow dependent on Q's help, as Alara
Rogers reminds me, but it's also the case that on a limited basis
Q's guidance and knowledge could be beneficial.

In a significant departure from Roddenberry's vision, this
episode actually validates Q's interference.  The Borg are such
an overwhelming threat that it is clear that Federation-style
diplomacy is utterly pointless, and both Q and Guinan
repeatedly emphasize how relentless and impervious to reason
these new antagonists are.  The episode also establishes two
significant patterns for subsequent Q appearances.  One is a
set-up whereby it *appears* as though Q is the bad guy and is
going to be defeated, but then a reversal occurs, and Q is shown
to be both in the right and actually on humans' side.  Despite
his Satanic demeanor in "Q Who," and Picard's firm insistence
that Q's "help is not required," Q is proven right in the end. 
Picard and his crew do *not* have the capacity to handle every
challenge they meet, and Picard comments ruefully, "Maybe Q
did the right thing for the wrong reason . . . .  Perhaps what we
most needed was a kick in our complacency to prepare us for
what lies ahead."  The other pattern is that of the
uncharacteristic fallibility that Picard displays in this and several
other subsequent Q episodes.  His own arrogance leads him to
make a fatal mistake in refusing Q's offer of guidance, costing
the lives of 18 crewmembers.  When Picard tries to blame Q for
the deaths, Q responds callously, but accurately:   "If you can't
take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and
crawl under your bed.  It's not safe out here.  It's wondrous,
with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross.  But it's
not for the timid."  Picard makes three very big mistakes:  1)
although he is supposed to be a skilled diplomat, he carelessly
and thoughtlessly antagonizes an extremely powerful being; 2)
he disregards Guinan's advice (*always* a mistake!) to turn
back immediately; and 3) he doesn't ask for Q's help the
moment it becomes clear the Enterprise is *way* outmatched. 
Q may be *indirectly* responsible for the 18 lives lost, but it
was Picard's decisions that set up the chain of events which
killed his crew members.   

Whether Q is responsible for the future Borg invasion is a more
complex matter.  While Guinan suggests that Q has accelerated
the Federation's encounter with the Borg, essentially holding
him responsible for the Borg's future disastrous incursion into
Federation space, it is also the case that without this premature
encounter, Starfleet would have been even more disastrously
unprepared when the Borg eventually appeared without warning. 
In "Best of Both Worlds," Part 2, Data uses information gleaned
from this original encounter with the Borg to figure out how to
access Picard/Locutus' mind and to use the information Picard
gives him to disable the Borg ship.  The issue is never resolved
in subsequent episodes, but the argument *can* be made that Q
is, in fact, indirectly responsible for the 11,000 lives lost in the
Borg invasion.  He certainly never expresses any remorse, but
neither does the crew explicitly blame him.  Several of his fans,
however, insist that Q's actions helped the Federation in their
conflict with the Borg.  Tim Crall, for instance, says, "he
exposed the Enterprise to the Borg so that they would have a
warning that they were coming, not just to play with Picard." 
And Christopher B. Morley says, "this gave the Federation time
to prepare for the Borg's advance."  A fan who identifies
himself as Kahless the Unforgettable agrees that Q "helped in
the defeat of the Borg by allowing them to meet the Borg before
they arrived in Federation space."  And John E. Harrington
argues that by allowing them to prepare, "Q saved the
Federation."  Whether this was Q's intention or not is a matter
of interpretation.  I believe, for reasons I hope to make clear,
that the loss of 11,000 human lives would probably not be a
matter of much concern to Q.  While he eventually develops
relationships with individual humans, I don't believe he ever
manifests a genuine concern for the species as a whole.

At any rate, Q does not expose the Enterprise to the Borg out of
any desire to improve human awareness, although that is his
unintended result.  His initial desire to join the Enterprise's
crew was simply the result of boredom.  Exiled from the
Continuum as a result of his failure to tempt Riker, he describes
himself as having "been wandering vaguely, bored really, my
existence without purpose."  He is so bored with his own
existence, that he develops a fascination with humans and
desires their companionship, despite their inferiority, yet he is
so arrogant, egotistical, irritating, and overbearing, that he
alienates them even when he is trying to assist them or gain
their assistance.  It is in "Q Who" that Q really begins to be
humanized, that we begin to see glimpses Q's vulnerabilities,
the very vulnerabilities that he tries so very hard to conceal with
his imperious demanor.  They reveal themselves nonetheless. 
When Riker and Picard double-team him with a series of
accusations, Q laments, "I add a little excitement, a little spice
to your lives and all you do is complain.  Where's your
adventurous spirit, your imagination?  Think, Picard, think of
the possibilities."  When it is clear that Picard has no intention
of accepting Q's offer of guidance, telling Q, "Simply speaking,
we don't trust you," Q's face falls, and he looks momentarily
stricken.  Almost immediately, as if to cover his own weakness,
Q condemns Picard's arrogance and finally lashes out, throwing
a temper tantrum and declaring in a steely tone, "We'll just
have to see how ready you are."  The rest of the episode reveals
Q's sadism and desire for dominance.  He's not interested in
educating Picard; he's simply interested in forcing Picard to
humiliate himself and surrender to his will.  At the same time,
he derives enjoyment, or at least stimulation, out of the crew's
terror and suffering.  Knowing that the Enterprise doesn't stand
a chance against the Borg, Q deposits it in Borg space, clearly
intending to enjoy the show.  He says, with sadistic glee, "The
hall is rented, the orchestra engaged; it's now time to see if you
can *dance*."  Throughout the Enterprise's confrontation with
the Borg, Q reappears periodically to remind Picard just how
helpless his situation is.  During one particularly harrowing
encounter, Q appears on a viewscreen and mocks, "Picard, are
you *sure* you don't want me as a member of your crew?"  He
keeps offering helpful comments from the sidelines, like "I"ll be
leaving now.  You thought you could handle it, so handle it,"
his bitter tone revealing just how much Picard's rejection of his
offer has hurt him.  Q wants to wring as much out of his
eventual triumph as possible; he doesn't merely want Picard to
admit defeat, he wants to see him *writhe*.  Q must enact the
role of all-knowing authority figure, repeatedly making
gratuitous displays of his power and getting a type of sadistic
charge from Picard's humiliation as he demands, "Where's your
stubborness now, Picard, your arrogance?  Do you still profess
to be prepared for what awaits you?"  In this episode, Picard's
humanism doesn't stand a chance; for all of his brutality, Q is
beginning to make the transition to a leadership role, a role that
will become much more pronounced in "True Q," "Q-Less,"
"Tapestry," and "All Good Things . . . ."  Q's victory in "Q
Who" is total, and Picard is forced to admit that he was wrong. 
A fan who identifies herself as Sonja says, in regard to this
episode, "Q had a point to prove, and he did it at the expense of
18 lives.  But what he did was in humanity's best long-term
interest.  It was sort of a freebie object lesson, that was painful,
but (in Q's mind) necessary."  Again, I have my doubts about
Q's concern for humanity's best interests; although Picard and
crew *do* benefit from the experience, I believe Q was simply
trying to get back at Picard. 

Q takes a comic turn in "Deja Q," the episode which most
thoroughly explores his misanthropy, ironically, by making him
human.  He is deposited naked on the bridge of the Enterprise,
having been stripped of his omnipotence and his immortality by
his superiors for spreading "chaos through the universe." 
Thoroughly humiliated at his "significant career change," Q
announces to the crew, "I stand before you defrocked,
condemned to be a member of this *lowest* of species, a
normal, imperfect, *lumpen* human being."  Complaining that
his superiors have decided to punish him, he is an easy target
for Picard's dry wit:  "And punish us as well, it would seem."  

While, normally, Worf (Michael Dorn) is the recipient of Q's
cruelest barbs, in this episode, he gets the best line.  Frustrated
that no one believes he is human, Q demands, "What must I do
to convince you people?" and Worf replies succinctly and
devastatingly, "Die."  As Alara Rogers points out, Q's
desperate, but not terribly effective retort, "Oh, very clever,
Worf, eat any good books lately?" reveals his emotional
turmoil.  He is utterly terrified at his transformation, for now he
actually *can* die, but is perhaps even more terrified at the
prospect of letting his feelings show.  The episode emphasizes
both Q's physical vulnerability and lack of interpersonal skills,
in order to point up the contrast with his previously omnipotent
state and to reveal his utter incompetence without his powers. 

With his powers intact, Q doesn't need to worry if anybody
likes him; he can simply get what he wants by being the
toughest bully on the schoolyard.  Without his powers, however,
he hasn't a clue how to relate to other people.  Q dreads having
to engage in "human interpersonal relationships."  He
anticipates not being able to fit in with the rest of the crew,
remarking, "I'm not good in groups.  It's difficult to work in a
group when you're omnipotent."  In this episode, Q's sarcasm
falls flat, his attempted barbs bouncing harmlessly off their
objects.  He is equally ineffective at recruiting allies, making a
pathetic attempt to ingratiate himself with Worf, of all people,
by unconvincingly asserting his affinity to Klingons.  His usual
verbal facility has vanished; the best he can come up with is
"Please don't feel compelled now to tell me the story of the boy
who cried Worf."  Huh?  When he is unable to get Worf on his
side, he can only resort to name-calling.  As Worf walks out of
the detention cell, Q yells, "Romulan!" but to no effect.  Worf
simply continues out of the room.  Q tries to assert some
authority, blustering his way around Engineering and trying to
take charge, but again to no effect.  Neither Data nor La Forge
is the least bit impressed.  When Guinan (Whoopi Goldberg)
mocks him as "Just one of the boys, eh," Q snaps, "One of the
boys with an IQ of two thousand and five!" but Guinan is the
clear victor in this exchange, telling Q, quite accurately,
"You're a pitiful excuse for a human."  When Q reacts to
Guinan's listing of his transgressions by bitterly exclaiming,
"I'll do missionary work, OK?" Data unintentionally pulls the
rug out from under him by stating simply, "That would be a
very noble cause, Q."  His utter self-absorption is revealed in
his complete lack of concern for Data (Brent Spiner), who is
injured while saving Q's life.  Observing no celebration at his
narrow escape, Q mutters, "The cheers are overwhelming."  At
his moment of greatest vulnerability, he casts aspersions on the
very human qualities he must rely on.  Confident that Picard
will offer him protection from his enemies, Q sneers, "I know
human beings.  They're all sopping over with compassion and
forgiveness.  They can't wait to absolve almost any offense. 
It's an inherent weakness of the breed."  Q simply cannot
function as a human being; he cannot imagine himself
endangering his own life to save another's as Data does for him,
confesses his own selfishness, although noting, "it has served
me so well in the past," and is terrified of dying.  When he tells
Picard how ashamed he is, Picard snaps impatiently, "I'm not
your father-confessor, Q.  You will receive no absolution from
me."  Q responds, "As I learn more and more what it is to be
human, I  am more and more convinced that I would never
make a good one.  I don't have what it takes.  Without my
powers I'm frightened of everything.  I'm a coward, and I'm
miserable, and I can't go on this way."

Q's physical vulnerability is even more devastating, as Guinan
proves when she stabs him with a fork, while remarking,
"Seems human enough to me."  He is dumped on the bridge
naked, but objects strenuously and campily to the clothes that
have been provided for him:  "*These aren't my colors!*"  He's
right.  The drab colors of the ill-fitting jumpsuit he wears are a
continual reminder of how out-of-place Q is.  For him, human
existence is a series of physical discomforts and humiliations. 
He complains: 
It was a mistake.  I never should have picked human.  I knew it
the moment I said it.  To think of a future in this shell.  Forced
to cover myself with a fabric because of some outdated human
morality.  To say nothing of being too hot or too cold. 
Growing feeble with age.  Losing my hair.  Catching a disease. 
Being ticklish.  Sneezing.  Having an itch.  A pimple.  Bad
breath.  Having to bathe?

Q abhors the limitations and discomforts to which a physical
existence condemns him.  As he  remarks, "I can now stub my
toe with the best of them."  The contrast between his previously
omnipotent state and his human vulnerability is particularly
displayed when he is in the brig and carelessly runs into the
force field that is holding him in.  He complains, "*This* is
getting on my nerves, now that I have them."  Later he
experiences severe back pains and gasps, "I'm feeling pain.  I
*don't* like it. What's the right thing to say?  Ow?"  The comic
incongruity of his melodramatic response to natural human
functions makes him a repeated butt of humor, as in the
following two exchanges:

Q:  I've been entirely preoccupied by a most frightening
experience of my own.  A couple of hours ago I realized that
my body was no longer functioning properly.  I felt weak.  I
could no longer stand.  The life was oozing out of me.  I lost
consciousness.  Picard:  You fell asleep.
Q:  How terrifying.  How can you stand it day after day?
Picard:  You get used to it.
    * * *
Q:  Ow!  I think.
Crusher:  Now what?
Q:  There's something wrong with my stomach.
Crusher:  It hurts?
Q:  It's making noises.
Crusher:  Maybe you're hungry.

Neither Picard nor Crusher (nor the viewers) can muster much
sympathy.  Without his powers, Q is a joke.

De Lancie brings out Q's physical vulnerability in the markedly
different way he holds himself and moves in "Deja Q."  With
his powers *intact*, Q is entropy incarnate, restlessly emitting
energy from an apparently unlimited source.  He is in constant
motion, as if unable to be contained in the confined spaces in
which he finds himself, pacing, gesturing flamboyantly, circling
like a vulture, sitting down only to jump up immediately, and
punctuating displays of his power with a superfluous and
hyperbolic snap of the finger.  In "Q Who," when he vanishes
out of a chair with his trademark burst of light, the chair rocks
back and forth, testifying to the energy that has been released. 
Even when sitting, he doesn't relax, but strikes calculated poses,
putting his arms behind his head and crossing one leg over
another in an exaggerated simulation of relaxation or leaning
back coyly, one leg stretched out, his hands wrapped around one
knee in a seductive manner.  The contrast between Q's
unfocused displays of nervous energy and Picard's
self-discipline is particularly brought out in "Q Who."  In the
shuttlecraft, Q whiles away the hours by bouncing a  ball off a
bulkhead, while Picard sits ramrod straight, a model of
restraint.  In "Deja Q," Picard is similarly contained, reining in
his exasperation and frustration until the right moment to release
it.  At the end of the episode, his powers restored, Q intends to
party, complete with mariachi band.  Trying to evade Picard's
disapproval, he whines, "But I want to celebrate," and Picard
thunders "I DON'T!" so forcefully that Q must acquiesce.  Q,
by contrast, loses his temper repeatedly in flurries of sarcasm
that volley from target to target.  Even when Picard is the object
of his attention, he can't resist getting in digs at Riker and Worf
as well, expending energy in every direction possible.  Q
continuously and flamboyantly overreacts to frustration.  In
"Hide and Q," he throws Picard's Shakespeare volume at him;
in "Tapestry," he sweeps an entire chess set off a table with a
growl of disgust.  

*Without* his powers, however, he is awkward and subdued,
his posture revealing his lack of energy and confidence.  He
stands listlessly with his shoulders slumped and arms folded, or
stoops, or leans forward, his hands on a table, instead of making
the most of his height.  His movements have lost their usual
sharpness and quickness, and his costume makes him look
almost fat.  Instead of reclining gracefully, he sleeps curled up
on his side in a fetal position.  He seems particularly subdued in
contrast to his colleague from the Continuum (Corbin Bernsen,
to be hereafter referred to as Q2), who radiates energy and a
breezy confidence.  In his short visit with Q in the shuttlecraft,
Q2 makes a series of flamboyant gestures with outstretched
hands, while striking one pose after another, as if thoroughly
enjoying the resources of this human form he has just adopted. 
He keeps looking at his hands in wonder, as if thinking, "Gee,
these things are pretty cool after all!"  While Q2 bounces around
the cabin, Q sits apathetically slumped over the shuttlecraft's
controls.  As soon as his powers are restored, however, energy
floods his being.  He sits up straight, his eyes gleam
demonically, and he snaps his fingers purposefully, in order to
restore his favorite Starfleet uniform *before* threatening
revenge on the Calamarain (priorities  *are* priorities after all).  
Back on the bridge, he looks slimmer and draws himself up to
his full height during his mariachi performance.  Blowing a kiss
to Picard with two hands, he has restored his usual campy
flamboyance.

Ultimately what Q learns is that Worf is right.  To be human is
to be defined by mortality (as Star Trek:  Generations repeatedly
emphasizes).  As he apparently learns by the time of
"Tapestry," mortality gives life focus and purpose, but his first
experience of the possibility of dying devastates him.  His
newfound vulnerability makes him a target for a species he had
earlier tormented, the Calamarain, and after being attacked and
nearly killed, he becomes acutely aware of mortality for the first
time.  He tells Picard, "Don't be so hard on me, Jean-Luc. 
You've been a mortal all your life.  You know all about dying. 
I've never given it a second thought.  Or a first one for that
matter.  I could have been killed.  If it hadn't been for Data and
that one brief delay he created, I would have been gone.  No
more me.  And no one would have missed me, would they?" 
The only escape he can imagine from the limitations of
mortality, ironically, is suicide, preferring to die as a coward,
because "as a human, I would have died of boredom."   

At the same time, Q's own utter incompetence as a human leads
him to a new appreciation of humanity; he can't help but be
impressed with how well they cope with their limitations and
vulnerabilities, once he has experienced them for himself.  He
still doesn't understand Data's desire to be human, saying,
"There are creatures in the universe who would consider you the
ultimate achievement, android.  No feelings, no emotions, no
pain.  And yet you covet those qualities of humanity.  Believe
me, you're missing nothing."  But he admires the android
nonetheless, telling him, with a self-deprecating smile, "If it
means anything to you, you're a better human than I."  Q seems
to realize more and more that humans have made the most of
what he sees as very meager endowments, and Q2 similarly
shares his fascination.  Q2 is amazed that Picard and his crew
are, however against their better judgment, trying to save Q's
life, after all the trouble he has caused them (Picard has to
justify himself to Riker by remarking, "It's a perfectly good
shuttlecraft").  Q dismisses their efforts as "a genetic weakness
of the race," but he is both grateful and impressed.  He admires
Data's self-sacrifice enough to emulate it in his suicide mission
to divert the attacking Calamarain away from the Enterprise.  It
is this human-like "selfless act" that convinces Q2 to restore his
powers, and Q has learned a lesson of sorts.  He shows a rare
touch of modesty in restoring the orbit of the Bre'el moon
without telling anyone, and although he annoys the hell out of
Picard with his impromptu celebration on the bridge, Q's "gift"
to Data is actually thoughtfully selected--a good laugh that Data
gratefully characterizes as "a wonderful feeling."  Of course,
even with powers intact, the Q prove themselves as human as
the rest of us.  In his confrontation with Q2, Q sneers, "It
wasn't me who misplaced the entire Deltived Asteroid Belt,"
and Q2 returns, "This isn't about *me*!"  Like the gods of the
Greek Pantheon, the Q have superhuman powers but are
apparently as petty, fallible, irrational, and self-absorbed as any
human.  As one fan remarks, "The Greek gods, and Q, are
more like omnipotent *people*; all the power in the universe,
and all the flaws too!"  That, of course, is a large part of Q's
appeal.  One of his fans describes him as an "eternal child"; he
can be irrational, selfish, and childish and get away with it, with
very little concern for the consequences.  Chris Morley states,
"I find Q interesting because he has unimaginable powers, yet
he takes no responsibility for them.  He is the galaxy's most
powerful child."

In its comic rendition of a self-absorbed, omnipotent entity cut
down to size, "Deja Q" maintains the humanistic tradtion of the
Star Trek canon.  Humans are clearly superior to Q in their
determination to make the most of their endowments and in their
ability "to form relationships."  Q is miserable as a human, but
he's a pitiful excuse for a superbeing as well.  He misuses his
powers, tormenting "inferior" species, and he gets himself
exiled from the Continuum twice.  Q2 scolds him, "You're
incorrigible, Q.  You're a lost cause.  I can't go to a single
solar system without having to apologize for you.  And I'm tired
of it."  At the same time this scene in the shuttlecraft humanizes
Q even more thoroughly by offering hints as to Q's problematic
relationship with his fellow Qs.  Alara Rogers convincingly
argues that Q must feel he has suffered a massive betrayal on
the part of his colleagues, and he reveals the extent to which
this betrayal has hurt him in his reactions to Q2's statements.  Q
eagerly greets Q2, saying "I always thought you were in my
corner."  Q2 then corrects him, noting, "You see, actually, I
was the one who got you kicked out," leaving Q utterly
devastated as his face crumbles.  The bitterness with which he
exclaims, "Well, if the Calamarains hurry up and finish me off,
we can get you on your way" testifies to how much this betrayal
has affected him.  Although he is humiliated by the Enterprise
crew and Q2, "Deja Q" does contain hints of Q's future
evolution.  As in "Q Who," and subsequent Q episodes, Picard
errs repeatedly.  He is wrong both in his belief that Q is
responsible for the moon falling out of orbit and in his persistent
belief that Q is faking it.  In subsequent episodes, Picard will
prove himself even more fallible, as Q will increasingly gain the
upper hand.  We also see that Q's omnipotence has some
advantages; he is able to do what the Enterprise's advanced
technology couldn't--restore the moon's orbit.  Q surpasses
humans in knowledge and abilities, and thus he holds great
potential to provide humans with guidance and assistance as we
learned in "Q Who."  Herein lies the paradox.  Although he
becomes increasingly human himself, he never loses his
conviction of his own superiority.  At the end of the episode,
Picard is about to chalk up yet another triumph for liberal
humanism, remarking, "Perhaps there's a residue of humanity in
Q after all."  In the middle of issuing his command, "Engage,"
with his traditional gesture of pointing to the stars, Picard is
non-plussed to discover a cigar appear in his hand, with Q's
disembodied head wreathed in the smoke, replying "Don't bet
on it, Picard."  Omnipotent and immortal again, Q gets the last
word.

III

And the last word is what Q will get from now on as he evolves
into his role as the Enterprise's presiding deity.  Having been
thoroughly humanized out of his Satanic role in "Deja Q," he is
now well on his way to becoming God.  "True Q" and "Q-Less"
(an episode of Star Trek:  Deep Space Nine) are notable for the
ways in which they turn our expectations of Q on their heads. 
Both episodes lead us to believe that Q is once again reprising
his Satanic role, in each case trying to lure a woman to join
him, and apparently displaying an utterly callous lack of concern
for human life.  In "True Q," Q investigates a young woman,
Amanda Rogers (Olivia d'Abo), who is serving as an intern on
board the Enterprise.  We learn that although she believes
herself to be human, she is actually the daughter of two
members of the Q Continuum who had taken on human form
and decided to live on Earth.  When they refused to give up
their Q powers, they were executed by order of the Continuum,
and Amanda was adopted by human parents.  Q's mission is to
evaluate Amanda's powers and convince her to join the
Continuum if she is in fact completely Q . . . or execute her if
she isn't.  His attitude is initially flippant and callous: 

Q:  If this child does not learn how to control her power, she
may accidentally destroy herself, or all of you, or perhaps your
entire galaxy.
Picard:  I find it hard to believe that you're here to do us a
favor. 
Q:  You're quite right.  I wouldn't.  But there are those in the
Continuum who have an over- exaggerated sense of
responsibility.  They think we need to take precautions to keep
the little dear from running amok.

Q positions himself as the rebel once again, obeying the orders
of his superiors with a palpable reluctance.  He manages to
offend just about everyone, treating Amanda in a patronizing
manner (almost every word he uses to describe her is prefaced
by the adjective "little"), and repeatedly uttering such
misanthropic remarks as, "Do you think she will want to remain
an enfeebled mortal?"  When Crusher objects to Q's
interference, Q turns her into a barking dog, leaving Amanda to
change her back.  Q has nothing but contempt for Amanda's
human side, and he tempts her in his traditional Satanic manner,
standing seductively at her shoulder, speaking in her ear, and
offering her power and knowledge.  After showing her the
wonders of the galaxy from atop the saucer of the Enterprise, he
cajoles, "Now do you understand?  What do humans have to
offer you that even begins to compare with that?  Your future
contains wonders that you can't even imagine.  The universe
could be your playground."  We are even more inclined to
distrust Q when we eventually learn that he has come as a
potential assassin and will kill Amanda if she is some kind of 
hybrid, remarking in a classic case of the pot calling the kettle
black, "Do you think it's reasonable for us to allow omnipotent
beings to roam free through the universe?"  De Lancie's
performance makes it seem very likely that he is going to
assassinate Amanda after all.  At one point he says, as if with
regret, "She's such a plucky little thing now, isn't she?" then
turns to Amanda to say, "I really do enjoy you, you know," in a
voice so laden with menace that it seems clear he has only been
luring her toward her own destruction.

"True Q" apparently inspired a good deal of creative
disagreement.  Wishing to move away from the comic turn
taken in "Deja Q" and "Qpid," de Lancie wanted to return some
"malevolence" to Q's character.  Here is his recollection of his
goals for the episode: The thing is that I remember having said
somewhere along the line, 'Kill her.'  They all said 'My  god,
no, no, no' and I said 'Why not?'  And they said, 'John, you're
just being Q-like' and I said 'Well, yeah, you got it.  Come in
and kill her, assassin.'  It's a hard ball nature that I would like
to try and find again, but I can't do it within the context of
birthday parties and babysitting and stuff like that.  It's
something you need to have the set up for.  I would have liked
to have taken it one step further where she was killed (Mark A.
Altman, Captain's Logs Supplemental:  The Next Generation
6th Season Guidebook (Image Publishing, 1993) 59-60). Not
bloody likely.  Q's character has simply evolved too far, and he
is too much of a favorite with the fans to kill anybody. 
Frankly, if Q had killed Amanda, the episode would have been
more politically correct in addition to restoring Q's edge,
although I'm sure political correctness was hardly de Lancie's
goal.  If he had actually assassinated her, Q would have been
presented as a tyrant who should be rebelled against and resisted
at all costs, an autocratic, malevolent, and despotic dictator who
opposes everything the democratic, non-interfering, and
life-respecting Federation stands for.  The interesting thing is
that Q *is* presented as an autocratic, malevolent, and despotic
dictator, *but*, and here's the crux of the matter, the episode
slams our expectations into reverse by having Q turn out to be
*right* in the end.  By the end of the episode, we are not only
convinced that he is entitled to decide whether Amanda lives or
dies, but also that he is a merciful judge, who generously grants
her the boon of deciding her own future.  Not only that, but the
decision she makes violates our expectations even further.  To
put it another way, this episode  does everything possible to lead
us to *condemn* Q as a type of fascist dictator or unfair judge,
but it concludes by forcing us to *respect* him as such.  It's as
if the series' creators want to present Q in his leadership role in
as unfavorable a light as possible in order to reinforce the
message that we need and should respect powerful and
autocratic leaders even if their methods and demeanor are both
arbitrary and brutal.  And we will be presented with the
identical message in "All Good Things . . . ."  So much for
Picard's liberal humanism. 
 
"True Q" initially sets us up to perceive Q as the villain. 
Amanda herself is guaranteed to appeal to her audience; she is
pretty, extremely intelligent, talented, and likes puppies.  Q
comes charging onto the scene with all the subtlety of a freight
train, setting up an initial test of Amanda's powers that could
have killed everyone on the ship--a warp core breach.  He gives
no indication that he would have stepped in if she had failed. 
He reveals his usual misanthropy by describing the human act of
conception as "vulgar" and querying, with distaste, "What is it
about these squirming little infants that you find so appealing?" 
Amanda's initial reaction to Q is revulsion; she wants nothing to
do with him and gets the viewers firmly on her side by
telekinetically hurling Q  across the room.  Q then makes the
mistake of setting himself up as the target for Picard's dry wit. 
Q snaps, "She was being impetuous.  She'll just have to start
behaving like a Q" to which Picard retorts, "If I'm not
mistaken, she just did."  Touche!  Q is made to look even worse
when Amanda begins to query him about what it means to be a
Q:

Amanda:  And what do you do with this power?
Q:  Anything we want.
Amanda:  Do you use it to help others?
Q:  I think you've missed the point, my dear.  Clearly you've
spent far too much time with  humans.  As a Q, you can have
your heart's desire, instantly, whatever that may be.

Of course, that is precisely Q's appeal.  One of his fans remarks
that she likes Q "because he gets to do all the stuff we can't." 
Q is wish-fulfillment incarnate; who among us wouldn't want to
be able to "have [our] heart's desire, instantly, whatever that
may be"?  We probably also suspect that our initial impulse,
were we granted this boon, would be to benefit ourselves, not
help others.  Once Amanda begins to learn the possibilities of
her Q nature, she begins to act in a characteristically selfish and
Q-like fashion.  She kidnaps Riker, who is in the middle of a
date, transports him to a type of Victorian garden with a
gazebo, and tries to force him to fall in love with her.  The
scene is excruciatingly embarrassing as Amanda momentarily
commits the equivalent of emotional rape, but quickly realizes
her error.  Given Amanda's initial negative response to Q, her
dismay that the Q do not use their powers for good, and the
painful lesson she learns about misusing her powers herself, we
have every expectation that she will reject her Q heritage and
choose to remain human.

"True Q" also sets up an expectation that Picard's humanism
will triumph over Q's misanthropy.  Lambasting Q's
self-designation as Amanda's "judge, and jury, and, if
necessary, executioner," and demanding what "by what right
have you appointed yourself to this position?" Picard is
infuriated at Q's calm reply of "Superior morality."  He then
launches into an impassioned speech that would *seem* to
embody the ethos of the Star Trek canon: Your arrogant
pretense at being the moral guardians of the universe strikes me
as being hollow, Q.  I see no evidence that you are guided by a
superior moral code or any code whatsoever.  You may be
nearly omnipotent, and I don't deny that your parlor tricks are
very impressive, but morality, I don't see it!  I don't
acknowledge it, Q!  I would put human morality against the Q's
any day.  And perhaps that's the reason that we fascinate you
so.  Because our puny behavior shows you a glimmer of the one
thing that evades your omnipotence.  A moral center.  And if so
I can think of no crueler irony than that you should destroy this
young woman, whose only crime is that she's too human. Q,
abashed by this display of rhetorical prowess, hangs his head
and offers to change his ways, agreeing that the Q have much to
learn from human morality.  Picard triumphs once again. 
Wrong!  This magnificent peroration, with its eloquent and
ardent sincerity, a discourse that could serve as the rallying
point for just about any oppressed group rising up against their
oppressors, Picard's own Declaration of Independence against
the Continuum, his "Civil Disobedience," his "I Have a Dream"
speech, is immediately punctured and deflated by Q's cool
remark, "Jean-Luc, sometimes I think the only reason I come
here is to listen to these *wonderful* speeches of yours."  In an
instant Picard has gone from being the eloquent defier of
tyrannical and immoral authority, to being a pompous and
inflated windbag.  And Q turns out to have a moral center after
all, as he offers Amanda the choice between joining the
Continuum or giving up her powers to live as a human, a
decision he made *before* hearing Picard's apparently
superfluous speech, as he tells Picard *immediately* afterward,
"this time your concern is unwarranted.  We've decided *not*
to harm her.  And we are prepared to offer her a choice."  But
wait . . . , the humanistic ethos that Picard embodies might still
be redeemed, Q might be humiliated in defeat . . . *if* Amanda
decides to become fully human.  Wrong again!  Amanda cannot
resist using her powers, albeit as a force for good as she takes
action to save lives on the planet below.  She then announces "I
am Q," and agrees to depart with her almost-assassin to join the
Q Continuum, moral center or lack thereof notwithstanding.  Q
wins this round.  He may be brutal, autocratic, sadistic, and
callous, but he has compelled our allegiance.  Yes, John, you
were "being Q-like" in wanting to kill Amanda, but that was the
*other* Q you were thinking of.  We don't want to see Q kill
beautiful young women (although, perversely enough, we find it
sexy when he merely *threatens* them); we want to see him
offer guidance and leadership, and, not incidentally, cut our
noble and inhumanly perfect Captain down to size.  We want an
all-powerful and all-knowing guide who will allow us to feel
subversive by defying Picard's authority and that of the
Continuum, but who will assert dominion over us in such a
flamboyant, entertaining, irresistible, and enticing manner that
we don't notice that he's deprived us of our human rights.

One thing is clear--"True Q" is a deeply flawed episode.  As
Alara Rogers points out, on the one hand it is a coming-of-age
story; Amanda's Q powers could represent realizing her full
adult potential, and she has to learn to understand, to accept,
and to manage those powers wisely.  On that basis alone, Q
could have appeared as a kind of harsh mentor, who gives his
student a hard time with the ultimate end of teaching her what
she crucially needs to learn.  On the other hand, however, it is a
story about Q as a potential assassin, an assassin who is stalking
a particularly winsome, appealing victim.  Either one of those
stories would have served Star Trek's humanistic ethos.  The
coming-of-age story would have shown a young individual
discovering herself; the Q-as-assassin story would have revealed
the superiority of human morality, as in Picard's speech.  

But grafting those two stories on top of each other simply
doesn't work.  What we're left with in the final product is a
young woman learning that her genetic heritage consists of a
species that executed her parents and is considering executing
her if she doesn't meet their standards.  Instead of rebelling
against this tyranny and opting for her human side, Amanda
willingly joins the Continuum, thereby implicitly condoning
their actions in killing her parents.  I'm sorry, but this is weird. 
Grafting these two stories together also makes a hash of Q's
role.  Is he a mentor (or as de Lancie labels him, a "babysitter")
or an assassin?  These are hardly compatible roles.  My only
guess is that the creative staff added the assassin plot because
they felt the coming-of-age story would not generate enough
interest in itself (ST: TNG's producers seem very wary of
"human interest" stories, such as "Family" and "Tapestry,"
which is unfortunate, as those two are, IMHO, two of the best
TNG episodes ever precisely *because* of the level of character
development).  The audience wants to see Q, and they want to
see Q behave in a threatening manner *without actually doing
any real harm* (this is a typical pattern in Q fanfic, particularly
romance stories).   This is what they got in "True Q," but the
end result is an episode which utterly seems to contradict the
Roddenberry humanistic ethos.

Having put one feisty and independent woman in her place, Q
moves on to his next challenge, the unscrupulous and mercenary
archaelogist, Vash (Jennifer Hetrick).  After having won her
from Picard at the end of "Qpid," presumably to make Picard
jealous (of himself or of *her*?), Q has become separated from
her in the Gamma Quadrant (they each claim to have dumped
the other), and both turn up on Deep Space Nine.  De Lancie
does get to inject some malevolence into his performance in
"Q-Less," but once again Q turns out to be the good guy in an
asshole's disguise.  The episode contains two parallel plots
which converge at the end, both of which serve to set Q up as
the *apparent* villain.  One plot involves a mysterious and
life-threatening (of course) power drain on the station that will
eventually suck the entire station into the wormhole to be torn
apart if it's not stopped in time.  The crew, naturally, thinks Q
is responsible, to which he takes offense.  Adopting the role of
the wounded and misunderstood Romantic outlaw, he laments: 
"Oh, oh yes, of course, go ahead, blame Q if it makes you feel
any better.  I suppose it's my fate to be the  galaxy's whipping
boy.  Heavy is the burden of being me."  The other plot is Q's
bid to convince Vash to resume their "partnership," "back
together again, a team, joined at the hip."  Although Q
vehemently protests being held responsible for the energy drain,
he remains the most likely suspect.  O'Brien (Colm Meaney)
remarks, "A blasted menace, is what he is."  The crew is unable
to locate the source, and Q doesn't help with his taunts and jibes
from the sidelines.  It turns out, however, that he is actually
trying to guide Sisko and his crew to the truth, but he is doing
so with his usual technique of indirection, the same technique he
will use in "All Good Things . . . ."  He drops hints and makes
sarcastic remarks, but expects us to do the rest.  Eventually he
does provide Sisko with some useful information:  "I'll tell you
what's going on.  While you're here conducting futile
experiments, Vash is below engaged in base commerce and
setting Federation ethics back  200 years.  Believe me, gang,
she's far more dangerous to you than I am."  And he's right. 
The power drain is being caused by an embryonic life form
Vash brought back from the Gamma quadrant to auction off as a
rare artifact.  When it looks as though the crew is not going to
discover this in time, Q steps in to save the station, bidding a
million bars of gold-pressed latinum for the life-form.  Just at
that moment, however, Sisko and his crew transport the
life-form off the station, and they watch it fly off into the
wormhole.  Despite his apparently callous demeanor ("I'm going
just to sit right here and watch.  I've never seen a space station
torn apart by a wormhole before"), Q actually serves as a moral
force.  He is disgusted by Vash and Quark's (Armin
Shimerman) brand of capitalism, remarking, during the auction,
"I hate to interrupt such a thrilling display of naked avarice, but
I thought it was only right of me to warn you that this station is
hurtling toward its doom, and it's very unlikely that any of you
will survive to enjoy your purchases.  I just thought I'd mention
it.  Please carry on."  He's equally disgusted with Dr. Bashir's
(Siddig El Fadil) womanizing; Q interrupts Bashir's date with
Vash, making him irresistably sleepy, and sending him to lie
down with the comment "Hopefully by yourself for a change."

Q initially seems even more threatening in his demeanor toward
Vash in his unsuccessful attempt to convince her not to break
off her relationship with him.  She stands up to him, however. 
When he threatens, "You know you're going to miss me," she
retorts, "Don't flatter yourself."  Q offers to take Vash on a
"grand tour of the universe," but she demurs, insisting, "It's
over Q; I want you out of my life.  You are arrogant, you're
overbearing, and you think you know everything."  Exhibiting
his typical lack of interpersonal skills, he replies, "But I do
know everything," to which Vash counters, "That makes it
worse."  As he discovers, threats don't work either; he snaps,
"Really Vash, this playing hard to get is growing tedious.  Let's
not forget that I'm the Q and you the lowly human.  I'll decide
when this partnership is over, understand?"  Q's demeanor
toward Vash is clearly coded as that of a potential rapist.  He
pushes her onto a bed and shows no compunction about
threatening and brutalizing her.  When she insists, "I can take
care of myself," he demands, "Do you remember that tiny little
insect bite you had on Erabus Prime?  If I hadn't been there . .
. " and ages her rapidly to the point of collapse to show her the
effects of that bite before restoring her to her original state.  His
m.o. is to remind her repeatedly how helpless she is  without
him, saying "The galaxy can be a dangerous place when you're
on you're own."  Vash (unlike Picard, interestingly) never
surrenders or submits or succumbs to Q's temptations once she
has made up her mind to reject him.  But as "Tapestry" and
"All Good Things . . ." will demonstrate, Picard is actually
*better off* for surrendering, submitting, and succumbing to Q.  

The misogyny of "Q-Less"'s treatment of Vash is veiled by the
*apparent* feminism of her  declaration of independence from
Q.  Yet, ultimately, it is Q who is given sympathetic treatment
by the end of the episode.  While he does not succeed in
reclaiming Vash, his displays of his powers make very clear that
he could if he wanted to.  Thus, when he regretfully opts to
release her, he is seen as all the more magnanimous.  He drops
his macho posture and gains the viewers' sympathy by admitting
his fallibility and pleading, "it's not going to be the same
without you.  When I look at a gas nebula, all I see is a cloud
of dust.  Seeing the universe through your eyes I was able to
experience wonder.  I'm going to miss that."  The disadvantage
of omnipotence and immortality is that Q can't help taking the
wonders of the universe for granted; he requires a human
companion to  experience the perspective he misses.  Suddenly
Q is sensitive and vulnerable, and Vash seems cold-hearted by
comparison.  Although she acknowledges "in some ways I'm
going to miss you too," she's already planning her next
archaelogical expedition, this time in partnership with Quark,
the embodiment of unfettered and unprincipled capitalism.  As
Q's star rises during the course of "Q-Less," Vash's falls, and
she is made to look worse and worse.  After all we can't have
independent women roaming around the galaxy making a profit,
can we?  Vash prostitutes and degrades herself to Quark,
willingly performing oo-mox, a Ferengi ear-rubbing sexual
ritual, in order to bargain him down, and her proficiency clearly
indicates that this is not the first time she has done so.  Q's
disgusted reaction, "How perfectly vile," is right on.  Vash
accuses Q of being "evil," of being willing to "kill all these
people to get even with me," and he responds, "I must admit the
thought had occurred to me, but this station is in enough trouble
without me.  Although  I'd be glad to save you.  All you have
to do is ask."  It turns out, however, that Vash is ultimately
responsible for the life-threatening power drain.  She will violate
any ethical principle in her pursuit of monetary gain. 
Presumably, she thus "deserves" any abuse Q chooses to inflict
upon her.  In both "True Q" and "Q-Less," Q's misogyny,
callousness, and brutality are ultimately irrelevant; he represents
pure power, and therein lies his appeal.  He doesn't have to kill
Amanda or rape Vash to prove his point; it is enough that he
could do so without any fear of repercussions.  When Q allows
Amanda and Vash to choose their own fates, it is as if he is
granting them a *privilege*.  As far as Q is concerned, humans
have no unalienable *rights*.

IV

In his final two appearances, as in "True Q," de Lancie
manages to portray Q as wickedly  subversive and as
tyrannically authoritarian at the same time, as Q claims the
viewers' allegiance by repeatedly deflating Picard's pompous
demeanor.  One fan remarks, that Q "is one of the few colorful
characters in the tepid, almost soulless universe of the Next
Generation, he is painfully real and makes life complicated in a
supposedly orderly system."  Another fan suggests "he livens up
their otherwise pathetic lives."  In his performances, de Lancie
engages the viewers into a type of complicity with Q.  In his
first two appearances, where he is clearly the villain, Q is more
often the object of the viewers' laughter as he is defeated by
Picard's liberal and humanistic demonstrations of his species'
progress.  In Q's later appearances, however, the audience
laughs *at* him less and *with* him more.  De Lancie seems to
offer a challenge to his audience, as if to say, "Look, I'm going
to make very clear to you that this guy is arrogant, egotistical,
tyrannical, and sadistic, but at the same time, I'm going to make
you like him, and you're not going to be able to help taking his
side."  Thus, when Q sadistically teases and humiliates Picard,
the viewers share  in Q's derision, rather than condemning him
as a bully.  Q skewers Picard mercilessly in  "Tapestry" and
"All Good Things . . . ."  Although Picard manages to get in a
few zingers in "Tapestry," they don't hit the mark.  Picard
mocks Q, saying, "I refuse to believe the afterlife is run by you. 
The universe is *not* so badly designed," but as events play
out, it becomes patently obvious that Picard's afterlife *is* run
by Q, that Q "can take [his] life and give back to [him] again
with a snap of a finger."  Q's sarcasm is much more accurate. 
When Picard worries that changing his own past will irrevocably
alter history, Q lands a devastatingly precise blow:  "Please! 
Spare me your egotistical musings on your pivotal role in
history.  Nothing you do here will cause the Federation to
collapse or galaxies to explode.  To be blunt, *you're not that
important*."  Later, after Picard relates the events that led up to
his being stabbed in the heart, Q remarks, with a mocking catch
in his voice, "That's a beautiful story.  Gets you right here,
doesn't it?" as he points to his heart.  In "All Good Things . . .
," during the earlier courtroom scene, Picard demands
information from Q, who taunts him, "Oh, you'd like me to
connect the dots for you, lead you from A to B to C, so that
your *puny* mind could comprehend.  How *boring*."  The
jeering spectators in the courtroom become a stand-in for the
viewers as they both laugh at Picard's obtuseness and
discomfiture while relishing Q's clear intellectual superiority and
command of the  situation.  The two episodes I've cited are
ones in which Q is clearly operating on Picard's behalf.  The
viewers are thus drawn into a type of sadistic vicarious
identification with an all-powerful and cruel, but charismatic,
authority figure.  They enjoy Q's triumphs over Picard because
de Lancie has made the character impossible to dislike and
because they have been convinced that Q actually knows better
than the Captain and thus deserves to be obeyed.  Alara Rogers
prefers to perceive Q as a "charismatic, strong-willed" teacher,
rather than a leader, the type of teacher she describes as "the
devil's advocates who argue with all your points, the ones who
use public humiliation and other 'terror techniques' to get their
way, then privately melt you with a word or two of praise." 
This is an accurate description of Q's demeanor toward Picard
in "Tapestry" and especially "All Good Things . . . ," but I
don't think the roles of leader and teacher are mutually
exclusive.  In either case, as I will argue below, I don't believe
Q's motivations are those of a typical teacher.  Q provides
Picard with both leadership and an education because doing so
suits his own particular agenda.  

Fans, on the whole, seem untroubled by Picard's ineptitude in
his encounters with Q, noting either that the tests are rigged,
that Q doesn't provide sufficient information, or that Picard is
doing the best he can given that he is dealing with a much more
powerful and advanced being.  As Chris Davies notes,
"considering that he's dealing with something that could turn his
internal organs to jello, I think he does fairly well."  Irene
Gawel speculates that Q is "a baby demigod," and Picard's
inability to handle him stems from his "dislike of children." 
Similarly, N. K. Berg comments, "It's not really Picard's fault. 
Q is like an unruly adolescent with way too much power to do
what he wants to do."  On the surface, these explanations make
perfect sense, yet one of the things that distinguishes starship
Captains (at least the ones who anchor Star Trek series) is their
ability to solve apparently unsurmountable problems, to
overcome apparently impossible odds with their quick thinking,
resourcefulness, and decisiveness.  Often it is not only action on
the Captain's part  that saves the day, but also his or her
humanitarianism and/or diplomatic ability that disarms an
apparently overwhelming enemy.  Picard, like his colleagues
Kirk, Sisko, and Janeway, does this kind of thing all the
time--*except* when he encounters Q.  And he overcomes Q as
well in "Encounter at Farpoint" and "Hide and Q."  From then
on, however, he is clearly out of his league.  Although in "Best
of Both Worlds," Part 2, Picard defeats the Borg both through
his strength of will and presence of mind, in "Q Who," he is
completely helpless.  Although Picard and his crew have solved
any number of apparently unsolvable technological difficulties,
they are unable to make any real progress with the Bre'el moon
in "Deja Q."  The potentially workable solutions result from Q's
superior knowledge and the suggestions he offers La Forge and
Data, and it is Q who ultimately restores the moon's orbit.  
Although Picard has dealt with any number of temporal
anomalies successfully, as Alara Rogers reminds me, in "All
Good Things . . . ," he clearly required Q's assistance. 
Starship Captains typically either defeat or win over "superior"
beings with their intelligence and humanistic morality; that Q so
consistently either tricks Picard or provides him with assistance
he can't do without seems to me an uncharacteristic violation of
Star  Trek's usual vision of human progress and ability.  The
Captain, after all, is simultaneously the representative of the
human species and a superior human being, the embodiment of
human evolution and potential.  While he may be vulnerable to
overwhelming physical and psychological pressure, as in "Best
of Both Worlds" and "Chain of Command" (where Picard is
tortured by a Cardassian inquisitor), the types of head games Q
plays with Picard, *if Q were a typical antagonist*, really
shouldn't transcend Picard's intellectual, moral, and diplomatic
ability.  

But Q is not a typical antagonist; he is extremely funny,
dynamic, and popular with fans, and part of his popularity
results from his ability to knock the inhumanly perfect (most of
the time) Picard off his pedestal.  It is as if the writers can't
help giving Q the upper hand, even though doing so contradicts
Star Trek's usual humanistic message.  This actually points to a
much larger conflict within the Star Trek series.  The
Roddenberry vision of human progress keeps coming in conflict
with the necessity for drama and action that fans want in a
science fiction series.  The solution has been to create
consistently powerful opponents, opponents whose
bloodthirstiness and ruthlessness repeatedly remind us of human
moral superiority.  Yet, these opponents keep being softened
and humanized.  Like Q, the Klingons, the Ferengi, the
Cardassians, and the Borg all become more and more "human." 
The Klingons become part of the Federation, and even the "bad"
Klingons, Lursa and B'Etor, are mostly there for comic effect in
Generations; the Ferengi Quark is portrayed sympathetically and
with glimmerings of a sense of honor; we see the Cardassians'
family lives on Deep Space Nine; and we have Hugh and his
comrades ("Descent") to show us that even the Borg hold the
potential for good--given sufficient human influence.  What's
interesting is that these opponents become less threatening and
less powerful as they become more human; even if they do not
become Federation allies, we see moments of genuine
cooperation,  communication, and understanding between sworn
enemies.  Q, by contrast, retains all of his  power and
misanthropy in "All Good Things . . . ."  He is humanized and
made more appealing, but he still holds the edge over Picard. 
In short, while Picard and his crew eventually humanize their
worst enemies, Q's function is to humanize *Picard*, as
Christine M. Faltz explains:  "Picard's ineptitude around Q is
the result of our fine captain recognizing his limits.  Regardless
of his knowledge (as seen in his discussion with Wesley in the
shuttle on their way to getting Picard's new artificial heart) that
he is capable of being a bit too arrogant, he is a man who likes
to believe himself strong, invulnerable, and able to cope with
any situation.  When he is confronted with a god--who appears
as a man--he feels belittled, scrutinized--and we also know that
Picard tries to keep a lot of his more potent emotions
inside--this is impossible around Q, because Q can read the real
Picard, and Picard can hide nothing from him."  Q gets under
Picard's skin for precisely this reason; he exposes Picard to his
own vulnerabilities, forces him to face what he'd rather keep
buried.  And it is this particular function that distinguishes Q
from Picard's other antagonists and  seems to force the writers
to keep giving Q the upper hand.  The only other character who
so consistently seems to get under Picard's skin in a surprisingly
similar way is Lwaxana Troi, who, like Q, tries to undermine
Picard's repressed exterior, but he usually manages to find a
way to put her in her place.  This is not the case with Q.
 
In "Tapestry" and "All Good Things . . . ," Q has clearly
evolved into a leadership role in  providing guidance to Picard,
who is particularly fallible in both episodes.  While he continues
to insist on asserting his dominance over Picard, in his later
appearances, Q operates more from a compassionate standpoint. 
He still toys with his victim, but he does so with at least
partially benevolent intentions.  In "Tapestry," he cannot simply
restore his beloved Picard to existence after he has been
mortally wounded.  He appears as the ultimate authority figure,
intending to make the most of this opportunity:

Q:  You're dead.  This is the afterlife.  And I'm *God*.  
Picard:  You are *not* God!
Q:  Blasphemy!  You're lucky I don't cast you out or smite you
or something.

Q has come a long way from his Satanic role in "Hide and Q"
and "Q Who."  At the end of the episode, Picard is deeply
grateful for Q's intervention.  Although his intentions are
benevolent, his methods, however, are not.  Q psychologically
tortures Picard by calling up an image of his unforgiving dead
father, who berates him about what a disappointment he is.  Q
then barrages Picard with the voices of all the "people who died
through your actions or inactions."  Having instilled his victim
with a walloping guilt complex, Q then moves in for the kill,
replaying for Picard the fight in which he was stabbed in the
heart.  Oppressed with guilt and shame, Picard takes Q's bait,
expressing a vehement regret for his youthful behavior, behavior
that seems on the surface to contradict and undermine his
disciplined, reserved, and self-denying self-image.  In an
apparent act of mercy, Q grants Picard an opportunity to relive
his own past differently, the idea being that if he avoids the
fight in which he was stabbed in the heart, he can avoid getting
the artificial heart which kills him years later.  Despite his
romantic attraction to Picard, Q cannot simply revive the
Captain after he is mortally wounded.  He cannot resist adopting
the authoritarian mode of an Old-Testament God (complete with
white robes) and putting Picard through an elaborate test he is
guaranteed to fail.  At the beginning of the episode, Q clearly
*wants* Picard to  make the wrong choice.  For all of his
genuine concern for Picard's peace of mind, he intends to savor
his triumph over Picard.  Thus, when Q asks him, "So, if you
had to do it all over again," and Picard replies, "Things would
be different," Q smiles knowingly, as if to say "Gotcha!"  As
soon as Picard acknowleges a desire to change his past self, he
has walked right into Q's trap and slammed the door behind
himself.

What is particularly significant is the type of trap Picard so
willingly walks into.  Q lures Picard into violating one of his
most cherished principles, the sanctity of the time line. 
Although Picard initially refuses to "alter history," he allows
himself to be persuaded by Q's assurances:  "I will give you my
personal guarantee that nothing you do here will end up hurting
anyone or have an adverse effect on what you know of as
history.  The only thing at stake here is *your* life and your
peace of mind.  Now, whether you believe me or not, you are
*here*, and you have a second chance.  What you choose to do
with it is entirely up to you."  Oh, Picard, beware of gods
bearing gifts; there's almost always a catch.  Q even gives
Picard a way out; he says "What you choose to do with it is
entirely up to you."  Had Picard been possessed of his usual
common sense, he would have relived events precisely as they
originally occurred, accepted that he would die on the operating
table, and dealt with the consequences.  After all, in "Hide and
Q," he opined that it was better that Riker allowed the child on
the planet below to die, even though he had the power to restore
her.  Had Picard been a bit wiser than that, he might have
intuited that Q would restore him  no matter what he did.  But
somehow, when Q appears, Picard's intelligence, competence,
and incisiveness seem to go on vacation:

Q:  If you can avoid getting stabbed through the heart *this*
time, which I *doubt*, I will take you back to what you think of
as the present, and you will go on with your life with a *real*
heart.
Picard:  Then I won't die?
Q:  Of course you'll die!  It will just be at a later time. 

Picard can't even grasp the obvious, much less the subtleties of
the lesson Q is trying to teach him.  Q's earlier comment,
"Death has made you a little dim, Jean-Luc," certainly seems to
apply.  I don't know if Ron Moore had "Hide and Q"
consciously in mind or not when writing this episode, but, in
falling for Q's offer of a *real* heart (where's the Tin Man
when you need him?), Picard accepts *precisely* the type of
bargain his officers *rejected* in that final scene with Riker. 
Geordi La Forge (Levar Burton) turns down Riker's offer of
restored vision, as tempting as it is to him (he is in awe of how
"beautiful" his crewmates are) because he doesn't trust the
source of the gift.  Data rejects being made human, saying, "I
never wanted to compound one illusion with another."  In "Hide
and Q," Picard achieves his victory because he anticipated his
officers' reactions so precisely, but in "Tapestry," Picard screws
up.  Utterly.  And Q achieves the same kind of victory over him
that Picard achieved in "Hide and Q."  Q knows exactly how
Picard will react and lays his traps accordingly.  

Picard's attempt to rewrite his former self is doomed from the
start, and he basically comes across as a dweeb.  He is
embarrassingly awkward and inarticulate in the scene with one
of his former flames, Penny Muroc, who ends up tossing a
drink in his face, and his embarrassment is compounded by Q's
mocking presence.  Before this scene Picard had been boasting
to Q about his amorous exploits, receiving the tribute, "I had no
idea you were such a cad.  I'm impressed."  Picard, naturally,
must demonstrate to his arch-nemesis that he is a real man, but
he fails miserably, and he is further humiliated by Q's sarcastic
comment, as he tosses Picard a towel to wipe his face, "You
never told me you were such a ladies' man."   He alienates his
best friend, Cortin Zweller, by refusing to back him up in his
dispute with the Nausicaans, and makes a complete fool of
Corey and himself by knocking his own friend over to avoid the
fight.  Even though his altered personality appeals to his
formerly Platonic friend, Marta Batanides, and they end up in
bed, she experiences some serious morning-after regrets, and
Picard parts from both friends bitterly.  He does succeed in
avoiding being stabbed, but it is a painfully hollow victory.

Q is true to his word, in his own fashion, returning Picard to an
*alternative* present, where he serves aboard the Enterprise, not
as Captain, but as a dull, plodding junior lieutenant of 
astrophysics.  Stewart demonstrates his remarkable versatility as
an actor, skillfully showing us a diminished, hesitant, and
utterly emasculated Picard, the equivalent of de Lancie's
impotent and disempowered Q in "Deja Q."  His job essentially
seems to consist of errand running, and in an excruciatingly
embarrassing scene, he sits down with Riker and Troi in
Ten-Forward, to determine if he has any prospects for career
advancement.  The most complimentary adjectives they can find
to describe him are "reliable" and "punctual."  Later, alone in a
turbolift, Picard wearily demands, "Are you having a good
laugh now, Q?  Does it amuse you to think of me living out the
rest of my life as dreary man in a tedious job?" and the doors
open to reveal Q in his white robes again, saying, "I gave you
something most mortals never experience.  A second chance at
life.  And now all you can do is *complain*."  Q then proceeds
to lecture Picard about the significance of the lesson he has
taught him: 

The Jean-Luc Picard *you* wanted to be, the one who did *not*
fight the Nausicaan, had quite a different career from the one
you remember.  That Picard never had a brush with death,
never came face to face with his own mortality, never realized
how fragile life is or how important each moment must be.  So
his life never came into focus.  He drifted through much of his
career with no plan or agenda, going from one assignment to the
next, never seizing the opportunities that presented themselves. .
. .  And no one *ever* offered him a command.  He learned to
play it safe, and he never ever got noticed by anyone. 

One might well wonder what an immortal, omnipotent entity,
playing the role of God, is doing rhapsodizing about facing
mortality, the fragility of life, and the importance of each
moment.  It is as if in coming to comprehend the ambition and
drive that made Picard a starship captain and that propels
humans through the galaxy, he realizes that humans have
valuable qualities of character that he himself lacks.  Now we
have an immortal and omnipotent being championing human life
and human values despite his simultaneous frustration at their
lack of perspicacity.  The irony is that the omnipotent
superbeing is teaching a human being to become more human. 
Picard is often presented as perceiving himself as flawless, not
wishing to acknowledge his own human limitations.  That is one
reason why viewers take such delight in Q's puncturing of
Picard's pomposity.  One of the lessons of the series,
particularly in the Q episodes, is that humans are worthy
because of their mortality and their limitations; in striving to
overcome them and to expand their knowledge and in the
ambition and drive those limitations provoke, they, unlike Q,
have the  capacity to make the most of each moment.

That is the lesson Q teaches Picard, who, in dismissing the
flaws of his younger self, failed to realize the way those flaws
and even the experience of being stabbed in the heart made him
the person he is.  A flawless Picard would be a passionless
junior officer with no imagination; whereas a flawed Picard
contains the seeds of his future greatness.  For all of his
authoritarian bluster, what Q teaches Picard is to have fun.  As
he tells him in the scene in the Bonestell Recreation Facility,
"Looks like your friends know how to have fun.  You should
take lessons."  Q gives Picard the opportunity to let down his
hair (so to speak), to be self-indulgent in a way he would never
allow himself.  After having asked to be allowed to "put things
back the way they were before," even if it kills him, and
reliving the fight with the Nausicaans a second time, Picard is
clearly enjoying every moment.  When the Nausicaan calls him
a coward for the second time, Picard says "I thought that's what
you said," in a voice filled with satisfaction, and he gets to
indulge in some James T. Kirk-style hand-to-hand fighting and
does so with relish.  His delighted laughter at being stabbed in
the heart and his continuing laughter as he awakes in sick bay
testify to how salutory this experience has been for him.  And Q
attains yet another triumph.  At the same  time, he confers a
real benefit upon Picard, although practicing a kind of guerrilla
psychotherapy.   Q fan Sonja accurately notes that, "Q shows
Picard truths about Picard, that Picard would often not be
reminded of, that he denies to himself, but that he knows deep
down are true."  When Riker, reflecting on Picard's experience,
says, "It sounds like he put you through hell," Picard insists,
instead, that he owes Q "a debt of gratitude" for his
"compassion" in helping him become reconciled to his own past. 
And Riker further confirms the validity of Q's lesson with his
overt admiration of Picard's youthful recklessness, saying, "I
wish I'd had the chance to know *that* Jean-Luc Picard."

In his fascination with individual humans (particularly Picard)
and his desire to render them  assistance, Q violates the spirit of
the institutional authority of the Q Continuum who have 
imperialistically designated themselves as the judges of
humankind's evolution.  In the series  finale, "All Good Things
. . . ," Q's superiors set up an elaborate test of Picard's ability
to expand his mind and figure out an elaborate time-travel
paradox; if he fails he will cause humankind to be "denied
existence."  Despite Picard's ultimate success, they continue to
appoint themselves both judge and jury; as Q explains, "You
just don't get it, do you, Jean-Luc?  The trial never ends."  The
members of the Q Continuum are described much like a
faceless, impersonal bureaucracy, and it was their *collective*
decision to put humankind on trial in the series pilot and finale,
to execute Amanda's parents for leaving the fold (and to
consider executing her), and to strip Q himself (temporarily) of
his powers.  While Q must act as their representative, as he
assimilates more human values, he acts as much as possible on
his own, particularly in the assistance he renders Picard in the
ultimate test in "All Good Things . . . ."  Like a parent who
will not define a word for his child, but tells him to look it up
in the dictionary, Q will not give Picard the answers, but he 
does provide indispensable hints, without which Picard would
not have succeeded in saving  humankind from destruction.  

Q initially appears in his most malevolent mode, reprising his
role as the judge in the 21st century atomic court of horrors
from "Encounter at Farpoint."  He is at his most sadistic and
autocratic, but this time he is the hero, not the villain, providing
Picard with leadership he desperately needs.  Q viciously lays
into Picard, laughing derisively at Picard's inept attempts to
solve the puzzle.  When Picard (understandably) asks, "Did you
create the anomaly?" Q responds, with a malicious laugh, "No
no no.  You're going to be so surprised when you realize where
it came from," then adds in a much harder tone, "If you ever
figure it out."  Q's misanthropy is in full force, as he taunts
Picard, "You're such a limited creature--perfect example of why
we made our decision.  The trial never ended, Captain.  We
never reached a verdict.  But now we have.  You're guilty."  Q
is completely  in control, and Picard's humanism will not help
him here:

Picard:  We've journeyed to countless new worlds, we've
contacted new species, we have  expanded our understanding of
the universe.
Q:  In your own paltry limited way.  You have no idea how far
you still have to go.  But instead of using the last 7 years to
change and to grow, you have squandered them.   
Picard:  We are what we are, and we're doing the best we can. 
It is not for you to set the standards by which we should be
judged.
Q:  Oh, but it is, and we have.  Time may be eternal, Captain,
but our patience is not.  It's time to put an end to your trek
through the stars, make room for other, more worthy species.
Picard:  You're going to deny us travel through space?
Q:  You obtuse piece of *flotsam*!  You are to be denied
*existence*!  

We seem to be in the same situation as "Encounter at Farpoint,"
where Picard the humanist defeated Q the misanthrope, except
that it turns out that Q is really on Picard's side.  Picard 
murmurs, "Q, I do not believe even you are capable of such an
act," but as in "Q-Less," Q is incensed at the accusation:  "I? 
There you go again always blaming me for everything.  Well,
this time I'm not your enemy, I'm not the one who causes the
annihilation of mankind.  You are."  Picard is so clueless that it
is patently obvious he requires Q's assistance.  His
disorientation as he shifts time periods and the effects of the
Irumodic Syndrome on his future self make Picard appear
unduly helpless.  He seems foolish calling a red alert during one
of his past incarnations, reacting to the taunting spectators no
one else can see, and his future self is uncharacteristically
emotional and quick-tempered.  Through most of "All Good
Things . . . ," Picard seems genuinely out of control, and when
he finally figures out the solution, after Q gives him a huge hint
by taking him back to the beginnings of life on Earth, his future
self is both hysterical and inarticulate as he tries to explain his
discovery to Riker and the others, as he rants incomprehensibly
about the chicken and the egg.  Q, meanwhile, remains
apparently callous; as the past and present Enterprise blow up
and the future Enterprise is about to go, he taunts, "Good bye,
Jean-Luc.  I'm going to miss you.   You had such potential. 
But then all good things must come to an end."    The one thing
Picard really does understand, however, is that Q was on his
side all along; he reacts with gratitude to Q's benevolently
intended if autocratically administered guidance: 

Picard:  Thank *you*.
Q:  For what?
Picard:  You had a hand helping me get out of this.
Q:  I was the one that got you into it.  A directive from the
Continuum.  The part about the helping hand, though, was my
idea.

They achieve a moment of genuine communion, communication,
and understanding here, and Q's tone of voice is
uncharacteristically gentle.  De Lancie, himself, saw the
significance of his final scene with Picard as revealing that "Q
has a vested interest in this man making it."  Describing the
attitude he wanted to project, he commented, "I have become
interested enough and attached enough to his struggle that I'm
willing, even though I'm compelled to play the game dictated to
me by my higher ups . . . I'm willing to give him clues."  Q
defines his role as helping humankind realize their full
evolutionary potential, telling Picard, "For that one fraction of a
second you were open to options you had never considered; that
is the exploration that awaits you.  Not mapping stars and
studying nebula but charting the unknown possibilities of
existence."  He apparently has, as he said to Guinan in "Deja
Q," gone into missionary work.  Descibing the exchange
between Q and Picard, Alara Rogers comments, "No longer the
sadist playing with humanity, Q now shows himself to be the
teacher, pushing his students harshly with a difficult test, giving
them just enough  help that they can solve it themselves,
secretly convinced that they *can* match up to his 
expectations."  This is an insightful description of Q's demeanor
in his final scene, but I would modify it by substituting singular
nouns and pronouns for plural ones.  There is only *one*
student taking the test Q has administered--Picard.  None of his
crew members has any recollection of the experience beyond
what he later tells them, so it is clear that the test in "All Good
Things . . . " was aimed solely at Picard.  

Like so many popular culture heroes, Q defines his own moral
code, independent of institutional authority.  Several fans see
him as transcending moral categories, but Alexander Verkooijen
provides the most detailed explanation of this attitude:  "The
universe isn't like that.  There are no 'good' and 'bad' guys.  I
personally think that's why Q is on the show.  On one side you
have all those Federation boys who think they know EXACTLY
what is right and what is wrong.  And the other side you have Q
who is a 'bad' guy (But only to Federation standards), but he
shows that things like 'good' and 'bad' are just personal
concepts."  Q's appeal to his audience lies in his simultaneously
godlike and irreverent pose.  As Brett Burkholder describes Q,
"He's a demi-god who also happens to be a jerk."  He has the
power to solve all of his proteges' problems, yet at the same
time he subverts both Picard's authority and that of the
Continuum.  He is the heroic individual who takes the law in his
own hands (even suspending the laws of nature when it suits his
purposes).  He intercedes between the humans he wishes to
protect and the impersonal bureaucracy which oppresses them,
and he is seen as an ultimately beneficial force to humans
despite his imperious demeanor and brutal methods.  Ramji
Venkateswaran, for instance, describes  him as "a cynic with a
heart of gold."  Q is the heroic leader/guardian angel who,
despite his  exasperation at his proteges' ineptitude, defends
them against the evils of institutional authority (in "All Good
Things . . . "), their own greed (in "Q-Less") and their own
self-doubt (in "Tapestry").  

He is ultimately a kind of benevolent despot, and many of his
fans view him in precisely that light.  Annie Hamilton argues
that Q "is obviously not malevolent, but he does his best to
appear so upon occasion, and anyone who is pretending to be
something worse than they really are wants to tell you
something very important."  Brian Blovett suggests that Q is
"the god figure on the show . . . .  He observes, tests,
antagonizes, and, on occasion, helps the other characters." 
Roberto Castillo describes him as "a twisted guardian angel,
teaching, testing, and when he feels like having some fun
torturing."  Jacob Huebert comments, "What [Q] does is almost
always in the best interests of humanity" and "I think he's a
'guide' of sorts.  I think he truly cares for them, as is strongly
suggested in 'All Good Things.'  He wants them to realize their
full potential."  Tim Crall also believes that Q acts in a way
"not inconsistent with the good of humanity and the crew"
because "he is fascinated by the humans, Picard particularly,
and has a soft spot for them, no matter what he might have you
believe."  Another fan insists that Q "has good intentions toward
'mankind,'" explaining that he is "a being that brings another
point of perspective to the limited visions of man .  . . to
introduce new ideas, new concepts, new phenomena." 
Providing a New Age perspective, Philip Brautigam declares,
"For each of us to be Q, is our cosmic destiny.  As we become
masters of ourselves, we will start to have a clue as to the true
functioning of this universe.  With this realization we can do,
create, be anything!"  Robert Langston explains, "I think that
overall, Q was my favorite charcter in TNG for just that reason
. . . that he'd push you (or the character) to think of life and the
universe in different ways . . . not just the 'stodgy old way,' but
in respect to the possibilities of things."  Chris Davies describes
Q as a "Guide," explaining, "He sends the Enterprise crew itno
danger countless times, testing their mettle, their 'humanness' as
it were, because it is when they are tested to their limits that
their sterling qualities emerge the most."  

Other fans take this idea of testing even farther, however,
suggesting that Q's function is to  puncture humanity's
self-image, to show them their limitations, rather than, as
Davies suggests, bring out their strengths.  Lou Chapman says,
"Q's function is to 'test' the Enterprise crew and to show them
that the human race is not the best thing since the big bang and
they still have an infinity of places to 'boldly go where no man
has gone before'!!!"  Johan Wevers notes that Q "puts the
attention on the weak spots of humanity and he does it well." 
Alexander Verkooijen says, "Q shows that our human standards
are not the only ones.  They might even be wrong.  In fact they
probably are wrong."  Given the humanitarian basis of the entire
Star Trek canon, I find it fascinating that so many of TNG's
fans reject it in this fashion; Q appeals to these fans precisely in
his irreverent questioning of the humanism Picard embodies. 
The implication is that even the heroic and resourceful Jean-Luc
Picard requires the guidance of a more powerful and
knowledgeable authority figure.  Ronald D. Moore, writer of
"Tapestry" and co-writer of "All Good Things . . .," defines
Q's role as specifically to test Picard, while also noting how Q
serves to puncture Picard's demeanor, to bring him down to a
more human level.  William Renaud  explains, "I think the
human race is on the verge of surpassing the mortal coil and Q
is here to find out whether or not we're worthy. . . .  He is
there to assess humanities claim of being the species best suited
to achieve the next level of sentience."  Such an attitude, of
course, presumes that Q is *entitled* to evaluate humans'
worthiness!  Surprisingly, given the usual humanistic ethos of
Star Trek, the series' creators seem to think so.  In their
development of a hero for a contemporary audience that craves
powerful leaders, Q's creators seem to suggest that people are
actually better off submitting to the despotic and arbitrary
authority of a powerful individual and that the elaborate tests Q
designs, however rigged they are, are somehow beneficial to his
"subjects."  As a leader, Q proves extremely tempting; the pure
power that he wields offers the promise of solving all our
problems for us . . . as long as we submit to his authority.  He
has no respect for humans' civil rights or democratic traditions;
like any imperialist he feels entitled to impose his dominion on
an  inferior species.  He wins us over completely, however,
with his wicked and subversive sense of humor, with his
charisma, and with his promise to cut through the crap and get
right to the truth.  We excuse his brutality because, after all, he
has good intentions and he's right.  One fan states simply, "He
uses whatever means to get the message across."  Another
casually remarks, "If he has to rough you up a little to get you
to see the light, so be it."  Might apparently makes right; in
response to a question about Q's disregard of the Prime
Directive and his feeling entitled to interfere with inferior
species, Tim Crall retorts, "Are YOU going to tell him he's not
entitled?"   

Q is the galactic equivalent of the outsider political candidate
who promises to eliminate crime, clean up Congress, and
restore our nation to peace and harmony as long as we agree to
surrender our Constitutional guarantees and civil liberties. 
Would we make that bargain?  In "Tapestry" and "All Good
Things . . . ," Picard does.  Boasting about his youthful exploits
to Riker at the end of "Tapestry," and joining his officers for a
game of poker in "All Good Things . . . ," Picard seems
confident that order and harmony have been restored and that he
himself has benefitted from Q's harsh, but well-intentioned,
interference.  What of Q's next appearance, however?  After
all, "the trial never ends."  Alara Rogers asks, "what right do
they have to make our entire species' *lives* predicated on the
actions of one man?  The Continuum seems to have a really bad
habit of making single individual humans answer for the crimes
and concerns of all humanity."  Humans remain the colonial
subjects of the Q Continuum; despite its utter disregard of Star
Trek's most sacred precept, the Prime Directive, we have not
yet shaken off our colonial masters and declared our
independence.  On the whole, Q's fans are not troubled by this;
in response to a question about Q's  disregard of the Prime
Directive, most of the fans surveyed responded that Q isn't
bound by  Federation rules.  Brian Blovett accurately
summarizes Q's attitude:  "He just plain doesn't give a shit
about the Prime Directive (omnipotence will do that to you)." 
Sonja provides a representative comment:  "You can't judge an
alien species by the Federation's rules.  And there are many
Federation citizens that don't themselves believe in the Prime
Directive."  Lou Chapman asserts, "The Prime Directive is for
Feddies only.  With power like Q's, there's no need for rules
and regulations."  Another fan describes the function of the
Prime Directive as "to cover the asses of the Federation." 
Johan Wevers bluntly states, "I find the prime directive stupid
anyway, and the Q continuum seems not to have such a thing." 
Alexander Verkooijen similarly declares, "The PD is a stupid
thing."  The Prime Directive is, however, central to Star Trek's
vision; it is the idea that more advanced species do not have the
right to interfere, in an imperialistic fashion, with the
development of less-advanced species, yet this type of
interference is precisely Q's MO, and his fans seem to feel that
he is entitled to interfere with an "inferior" species as he does
because he knows better.  No doubt the Europeans who
colonized Africa felt the same way.

While my own interpretation of Q's role is overtly political, as I
see Q's methods as precisely those of a well-intentioned but
totaltitarian and imperialistic dictator, Q also can be seen as a
teacher who views Picard, as Josh "Borg" Burroughs notes, "as
an advanced student."  Sybil Grieco suggests, "He points out the
foolishness of humanity, trying to make us grow and evolve." 
And Sonja says, "Q's mischief though, usually has a point to it. 
He's teaching humanity about itself, sometimes pretty
painfully."  Kathryn Anderson describes Q as a teacher who has
"more important things to do than be popular.  Like teach
people who don't want to be taught."  I don't really buy this
argument though, as I hope to make clear.  As a teacher myself,
I can hardly approve of his methods or motivations, but in the
interests of fairness, I will briefly consider the other side. 
Annie Hamilton, a Q fan in Australia, is writing a series of
articles entitled "Q:  More Maligned than Malignant" published
in the fanzine, Quisine.  I have read the first three, covering Q's
first three appearances.  Hamilton argues, "He's a teacher. An
old-fashioned, crusty, overbearing pedagogue in the grand
manner, willing to be hated for the sake of imparting the lesson
more effectively.  He has my deepest sympathy, because he's
saddled with an entire class of naive, sheltered adolescents who
don't for a moment suspect that there's a big, nasty universe out
there"  (Quisine #1).  Describing Q's pedagogical methods,
Hamilton states, "Pretend dictators bluff  outrageously and
frequently have no intention of carrying through their threats. 
On the other hand, they don't make threats that they aren't
ultimately prepared to carry out" (Quisine #2).  Yes, Q does in
fact bluff, without ever directly causing permanent damage. 
And yes, Picard and his crew in the Q episodes reveal that they
have a good deal to learn, although it is not always what Q
intends.  I like Janet Coleman's comment that Q "doesn't like
being a good guy . . . or at least is embarrassed by it--but can't
help it."  My principal dispute with Hamilton's characterization
of Q as a teacher is that I simply don't believe he *ever*
demonstrates a genuine concern for the human species, for
Picard, yes, a narcissistic concern that I will discuss below, but
not for Picard's species as a whole.  The lesson learned is
always a byproduct of Q's real intentions; to paraphrase Picard
in "QWho," Q does the right things for the wrong reasons.  Q
is either obeying the orders of his superiors (enthusiastically and
brutally in "Farpoint" and "Hide and Q," reluctantly and
brutally in "True Q" and "All Good Things . . ."), or he is
pursuing a personal agenda (to relieve his own boredom in
"QWho," to get protection from his enemies in "Deja Q," or to
pursue his object of desire, Picard, in "Qpid" and "Tapestry").  

Q *does* eventually become Picard's teacher, but in a rather
perverse and twisted fashion, and the "lessons," such as they
are, do not extend to the rest of the crew (only Picard has any
memory of the events in "Tapestry" and "All Good Things . .
.").  And even there Q has his own reasons for teaching Picard
as I will discuss in detail below.  It might be more accurate to
describe Q as a private tutor, rather than a teacher, since, from
the second season on Q's "lessons" are directed at only one
student.  Ron Moore suggests that Q would really like Picard to
become a Q.  Put another way, Picard needs to be both elevated
and educated to become *worthy* of Q's affections, but
transforming one's student into a more suitable romantic partner
is hardly an ethical stance for a teacher to take.  It is a common
romantic trope, but the teacher-student relationship usually
*precedes* the romantic one, while in Q and Picard's case, Q
takes on the teacher's role precisely as a means to further the
romantic relationship.  While I agree with Hamilton's
assessment of Picard's arrogance in "QWho," and I find her
discussion of Guinan's dangerous withholding of information to
be very intriguing and well thought-out, I have to disagree with
her claim that Q is "intent on a higher goal," that he is
operating out of "concern for the species' survival, 
technologically unprepared as they were for the foes awaiting
them" (Quisine #3).  Q's motivations in "QWho" are purely
self-indulgent, and he *does*, despite Hamilton's claim
otherwise, gloat repeatedly until the moment of Picard's
surrender.  His stance is not that of the disinterested teacher
who is concerned for his students' progress.  He is, rather, hurt
and angry at Picard's rejection and distrust; his demeanor
essentially conveys the sentiment, "You don't want me?  I'll
show *you*!  So *there*!"  It is true that, as Hamilton suggests,
Q's mask drops after Picard's surrender.  He does display
"sympathy and compassion," but it is from the perspective of a
triumphant conqueror who suddenly notices some worthwhile
quality about his victim.  He can afford to be compassionate
because the victory he has won has been so overwhelming, and
his victim's surrender has been so complete.  The dignity of that
surrender intrigues Q; Picard has revealed that he *does* have
some potential, but as a love object, not a student.

Rather than teacher-student, it might be more accurate to view
Q and Picard's relationship as that of a father and son, as
several fans have suggested.  The question is, who is the father
and who is the son?  What makes this aspect of their
relationship so interesting is that the dynamics continually shift. 
Q far supercedes Picard in chronological age and sheer
knowledge, but Picard far supercedes Q in emotional maturity
and accumulated wisdom.  At their best moments they realize
they both have much to learn from each other, but more
commonly they fall into a traditional father-son power struggle,
one in which the roles have become blurred.  Yet both the
teacher-student and father-son paradigms are ultimately
smokescreens designed simultaneously to hint at and veil what is
really going on, a type of relationship Star Trek:  TNG dares
not portray explicitly.  The ambiguity allows the series' creators
to have their cake and eat it too; the fans who are likely to be
intrigued by the real nature of Q's interest in Picard will pick up
on it (one fan remarks, "Q wants him bad!"), while the fans
who would be most offended by it remain happily in the dark. 
The question, "What do you think is going on with Picard and
Q anyway?" brought a variety of responses.  Kathryn Anderson
states, "Q challenges Picard in ways which expose Picard's
hypocrisy."  William Renaud says, "I think Q sees Picard as
one of humanity's finest specimens,  the one he can best work
with to point out the possibilities and dangers that are out there
that we're bound to encounter."  Lou Chapman notes, "Q sees
Picard differently from the rest of the human race and may even
have some strange form of affection for him."  Alexander
Verkooijen says, "Q (for some reason) likes Picard.  Picard
likes Q because he knows Q is superior to him (In physical and
moral perspective).  Only Picard doesn't want to admit this." 
Brett Burkholder says, "Q enjoys playing with people and Picard
just happens to be one of his favorite targets."  Anthony Guzzi
speculates that "Q is fascinated with Picard; he's curious about
what makes him tick mentally."  Bernhard Rosenkraenzer
describes Q and Picard as "like opponents in a game."  Tim
Crall thinks "Q really admires Picard, because Picard is
honourable in a way that Q can never be."  Chris Morley
suggests that Picard and Q "respect each other" and "given
time, they could come to be true friends."  These perceptions
are all accurate of course, but they don't tell the whole story. 
Rachel Loss-Cutler, for instance, asserts, "I think they are
attracted to each other:  Q loves to  annoy Picard, and deep
down inside him Picard likes to be annoyed."  Sonja explains,
"Picard is stuffy, Q is zany.  Picard is responsible, Q is
irresponsible.  Picard is pompous, Q is irreverent.  I think in a
way Picard wants to be those other things."  She also suggests,
"Q enjoys playing on Picard's suppressed homosexual
tendencies."  Janet Coleman notes the "sexual tension" between
the two.  Ramji Venkateswaran describes Q and Picard as "Gay
Lovers!" noting that "Picard is only person Q finds remotely
interesting for more than 30 seconds."  Christine M. Faltz notes
that "Q admires, respects and genuinely likes Picard, but Q
hates to admit to softer feelings and certainly hates the idea of
becoming 'attached' or a 'friend' to any inferior being, hence
his particularly obnoxious behavior around Picard.  Picard . . .
feels threatened and exposed around Q, which is why he finds it
hard to admit it when Q is right, in whole or part, and why he
finds it hard to thank him."  Roberto Castillo thinks "that Q is
attracted to Picard as a potential recruit for the continuum." 
While one fan specifically went out of his way to *deny* a
homoerotic attraction  between the two characters, the evidence
is there, and it's actually quite a bit more explicit than one
might expect from this series, as the rest of this essay will
detail. 

V

Questioner.  Teacher.  Truth-teller.  Three terms that John de
Lancie and others have used to  describe Q's role.  But has Q
really developed a new appreciation of humanity?  Is he truly 
concerned with helping humankind realize their full evolutionary
potential in charting "the  unknown possibilities of existence"? 
In my humble opinion, he is not.  Q is interested in Picard. 
Period.  Ultimately Q's role as a benevolent despot, guiding
humankind to a better and brighter future, is incidental to his
principal concern.  I would venture to suggest that Q is always
following his own agenda rather than acting out of a selfless
concern for the human race, and that agenda usually concerns
Picard.  Q can act in a fashion that produces ethical and/or
beneficial results, but his interest is in particular individuals
(Picard, Data, Vash), not the species as a whole.  Q's
misanthropy has not abated one iota in his seven years of human
contact.  In "All Good Things . . ." Q is just as incensed at
Picard's humanism as he was in "Encounter at Farpoint";
humans, in Q's eyes, remain an "ape-like race."  But despite
their limitations, or perhaps because of them, humans do have a
few valuable qualities.  To Q, Picard embodies all of
humankind's potential concentrated in one person; at the same
time in failing to achieve that potential in the time Q had
allotted him, Picard is a continuous source of frustration to our
omnipotent friend.  Ron Moore explains that the writers of TNG
thought of Q as being in love with Picard, although he would
never admit to being in love with a human.  John de Lancie
describes Q and Picard as alter-egos.  I wish to take this further,
however, and look at the particular way Q is in love with
Picard, his alter-ego.  Q thinks  he sees a great deal of himself
in Picard, and he likes what he sees.  At the same time, he
would like to see even more of himself reflected in the mirror
he has selected.  In his egotism and self-absorption, Q can only
love someone who can serve to reflect his glory back to him. 
At the same time, he has begun to learn the limits of his
omnipotence, the purposelessness of his long existence.  Thus
Picard can not only serve as a mirror for Q, but can complete
him as well, provide him with the human qualities he lacks, the
ambition and drive and determination and "passion and
imagination" that are fundamental to Picard's character.  Q's
adoption of Picard's Starfleet uniform continuously emphasizes
the way the characters serve as doubles for each other.  Q has
three goals then, in his pursuit of Picard:  1) to prove to Picard
how similar the two of them really are, 2) to show Picard that
the ways in which he resembles Q, his dark side, as it were, are
essential parts of him and cannot be separated from the whole,
and 3) to bring Picard up to his own level of knowledge and
awareness in order to make him an appropriate object of desire
to such an exalted  being.  This love story progresses principally
through three episodes, "Qpid," "Tapestry," and "All Good
Things . . .," but, oddly enough, it begins with "Q Who," with
the intense but unspoken erotic tension that the episode creates
between Q and Picard.   Q's demeanor toward Picard in this
episode is like that of the dominating and charismatic hero of 
romance novels who tries to seduce the independent and
assertive heroine.  When his attempts at seduction fail, he
frequently resorts to force, and she eventually "learns" that her
true role is to submit and surrender, relinquishing her proud
independence.  In this particular romance, Q casts Picard as the
unwilling heroine, who resists his attempts at seduction.  Like
many romance heroes, he takes his love object captive,
threatening to keep Picard in the shuttlecraft until he agrees to
hear Q's proposal.  The issue here is power, pure and simple. 
Q has taken on the most challenging potential conquest on the
Enterprise, and he will stop at nothing until he has his way with
the reluctant object of his desire.  The confined space of the
shuttlecraft is the perfect locale for Q to execute his
dishonorable intentions; he leans over Picard seductively and
menacingly, emphasizing the helplessness of his captive's
situation.  The threat of rape is unstated, but implicit, as Picard
has no choice but to tolerate Q's violation of his personal space,
and the frame fills with their two heads as Q's lips touch
Picard's ear.

Q does occasionally drop his menacing pose, allowing himself to
display some endearingly  defensive vulnerability.  He offers
himself as a crew member who is "ready and willing, able to
serve" and is so eager, in fact, that he says, "if necessary,
although I can't imagine why, I will renounce my powers and
become as weak and as incompetent as the rest of you."  A
touching, if ungraciously delivered, proof of devotion.  Despite
his reluctance to allow himself to be seduced, Picard is not
immune to Q's charms.  Picard is actually tempted by Q's offer
to join the Enterprise crew, saying, in a noticeably throaty
voice, "To learn about you is frankly provocative, but you're
next of kin to chaos."  Frankly *provocative*?  Captain,
captain, what were you thinking about?  True to his role as the
reluctant heroine, Picard declines Q's proposal, setting himself
up to being forced to surrender.  Although the principal plot of
the episode concerns the first contact with the Borg, Q keeps
reminding us of his own agenda.  While the Enterprise flees the
Borg vessel, Q lies draped languorously along the bridge railing,
one leg crossed over the other, his head propped on his fist, in a
seductive, come-hither pose.  He's in no hurry.  He knows his
victim has to surrender  eventually.  Realizing he is completely
outmatched by the Borg, Picard willingly abases himself in
order to save the lives of the crew.  He demands, "Q, end this,"
and Q, in his usual flippant tone, replies, "Moi?  What makes
you think I'm either inclined or capable to terminate this
encounter?"  Picard then appeals directly to his tormenter's
sadistic streak: "If we all die here, now, you will not be able to
gloat.  You wanted to frighten us, we're frightened.  You
wanted to show us that we're inadequate for the moment, I grant
that.  You wanted me to say I need you, I NEED YOU!"  Q's
satisfied smile in reaction to this speech reveals that his triumph
has been complete, and he has gotten exactly what he wanted. 
At the same time there is a charged, unspoken erotic
undercurrent to this scene.  Stewart delivers his speech of
surrender by beginning quietly, building up the tension in his
voice, and then releasing it with a passionately-uttered climax: 
"I NEED YOU!"  

After rescuing the ship, Q tells Picard, "That was a difficult
admission.  Another man would have been humiliated to say
those words.  Another man would have rather died than ask for
help."  Q is actually moved by Picard's willingness to submit to
him; he is gratified by Picard's surrender, but de Lancie's
delivery of those lines, without a hint of mockery, suggests that
Q is suddenly viewing Picard in a new light.  Picard has just
demonstrated himself to be an intriguing challenge, an object of
desire worth conquering. 

"Qpid" is the next installment in this tale of romance, setting up
a love triangle between Picard, Q, and Vash.  Although on the
surface Picard and Q seem to be competing over Vash, Q's real
goal is not to secure Vash for himself but to get her away from
Picard.  Throughout his appearances on the series, Q treats
Beverly Crusher (Gates McFadden) with particular derision; for
instance in "Tapestry," he makes a point of informing Picard
that he died "under the inept ministrations of Dr. Beverly
Crusher."  Q does not want any competition, and he will get rid
of Vash by any means possible, even if he has to take her away
himself.  This episode would seem to embody one of Picard's
worst nightmares; he is due to deliver a keynote speech to an
archaelogy symposium being held aboard the Enterprise, and he
ends up having two potential romantic partners throwing
themselves at him just when he doesn't need the distraction.  Q
arrives in the most openly flirtatious mode he has yet displayed,
waiting in Picard's ready room while the beleaguered Captain
walks in, intending to work on his speech:  

Q:  Jean-Luc, it's wonderful to see you again.  How about a big
hug? . . . Well, don't just stand there, say something. 
Picard:  Get out of my chair!
Q:  And I was hoping for something more along the lines of
'welcome back, Q--it's a pleasure to see you again, my old
friend.'
Picard:  We're not friends!
Q:  You wound me, mon Capitaine.

Q professes to "have a debt to repay," referring, of course, to
his previous appearance in "Deja Q":

Q:  Without your assistance in our last encounter, I would never
have survived.  I would have taken my own life if but for you.
Picard:  We all make mistakes.
Q:  Your good deed made possible my reinstatement in the
Continuum.  And I resent owing you anything.  So I'm here to
pay up.  Tell me what it is you wish, and I'll be gone.
Picard:  Just be gone.  That'll do nicely.

Picard is perfectly willing to flirt back, but it is in the junior
high mode of trading insults with someone you really care about
because admitting your feelings would be the height of 
embarrassment.  Q quickly falls into this mode as well, perusing
Picard's speech and opining, "It's dull, plodding, and pedantic,
much like yourself."  Q offers to take Picard to the forbidden
ruins of Tagus III (the subject of Picard's speech) or even back
in time 2 billion years to the height of the Taguan Civilization. 
When Picard refuses, Q declares in exasperation, "You are
simply the most impossible person to buy a gift for!"--the
eternal lament of lovers and spouses in regard to their partners. 
Picard is understandably wary about Q's intentions.  He tells
Riker, "He wants to do something nice for me," and Riker
responds, "I'll alert the crew." Q makes his most overt
declaration of his feelings in a scene in Picard's bedroom,
visiting the Captain who is seductively clothed in very short pjs
with a v-neck open to the waist.  The scene absolutely crackles
with erotic tension; de Lancie generates considerably more
fireworks here and in other scenes with Stewart than he ever
does with Jennifer Hetrick in her role as Vash.  As if he himself
is offering to rectify the problem he perceives, Q peeks under
Picard's covers and asks, "Sleeping alone?" before hopping in
bed with the Captain and striking a coy pose, with arms folded
and legs demurely crossed at the ankles.  Q is obviously jealous
of Picard's feelings for Vash, but he is even more disappointed
in the way Picard has allowed love to diminish him; according
to Q, he is "tense, preoccupied, somewhat . . . smaller" (here Q
pauses and raises he eyebrows to accentuate the word
"smaller").  Q explains:  "I had high hopes for you, Picard; I 
thought you were a bit more evolved than the rest of your
species, but now I realize you're just as weak as all the others. 
Still it pains me to see the great Jean-Luc Picard brought down
by a woman."  Q derides Picard for not being "more evolved"
than the rest of his species, for Q can only justify his own
attraction to a mere human by convincing himself of Picard's
superiority.  If Picard is to be a worthy object of desire to such
an exalted being, he must at least have Q-like qualities that are
just waiting to be revealed.  Instead he is behaving in (from Q's
point of view) an alarmingly conventional manner.  While
leaning over Picard in bed, Q notes that he witnessed Picard's
"little spat with Vash," and remarks, in his most condescending
tone "Nor will I soon forget the look of anguish on your face,
the pain, the misery," and he continues in a malevolent whisper,
"If I didn't know better, I would have thought you were already
*married*."  At this point, Picard leaps out of bed and strides
into the other room, and Q confesses, in his usual seductive
stance behind Picard's shoulder, "This human emotion, love,
it's a dangerous thing, Picard, and obviously you're ill-equipped
to handle it.  *She's found a vulnerability in you, a vulnerability
I've been looking for for years.  If I'd known sooner, I would
have appeared as a female*" (emphasis mine).  Q would have
no objections to Picard's "vulnerability" if he could exploit it
for his own purposes.  This is a pretty damned explicit
confession of feelings from one male to another, particularly for
Star Trek:  TNG (an AIDS-themed episode which
matter-of-factly  included a gay couple was once proposed but
shot down), but the homoerotic implications are supposedly
mitigated by Q's apparent genderlessness.  I don't buy it,
though.  Even within the world of the series, assuming one
suspends one's disbelief and disregards the casting of a male
actor, Q simply acts too much like a guy to convince me that his
gender appearance is arbitrary.  As Janet Coleman states, his
personality seems "anachronistically 'male'" in the stereotypical
"view of men as embarrassed by and therefore hostile with
sentimentality . . . aggressive, domineering, arrogant."  Q's gay
fans have their own theory about what "Q" stands for, but he is
neither effeminate nor androgynous.  He is, rather, as Alara
Rogers describes him, a "hyper-male," "a queer with power,"
who has "the potential to rape other men."  He is, as she notes,
"younger, taller, and more dominating than Picard," and de
Lancie repeatedly emphasizes Q's height advantage over the
Captain, using physical intimidation to heighten the threat he
represents.  Rachel Loss-Cutler similarly points out that Q "has
assumed a form that is specifically designed to put Picard on
edge:  younger, a bit taller, and with hair."  And Sonja notes,
"he's taller, has more hair, and is younger."  Q's sexuality may
be polymorphous, but de Lancie plays him as undeniably 
*male*.  It's worth noting that de Lancie describes Q as not
merely "bisexual," but "bi*spe*cial."  

Presumably Q's species has evolved *beyond* the point where
gender or species would limit  one's choice of romantic
partners.  One can only hope.  Picard, unfortunately for Q, has
not  "evolved" beyond his species' conceptions of gender.  Vash
is, in effect, a female and less  interesting version of Q; she
shares his deviousness, ruthlessness, and selfishness, but lacks
his knowledge, awareness, and power.  Q is undoubtedly
frustrated that Picard has fallen for a lesser version of himself,
merely because she is female, but that Picard has done so
provides Q with useful information.  Picard does have it in him
to be attracted to what Q represents, which is, after all, his own
dark side, as he will learn in "Tapestry."

Picard, once again, makes the mistake of not taking Q at his
word; Picard *would* be "far better off" if Q turned Vash "into
a Klabnian eel."  Although his motives are entirely selfish, Q is
completely accurate in his assessment that Vash is "many things,
none of them innocent."  After all, it takes one to know one. 
Unable to express his own feelings for Picard more openly, Q
can only resort to another gratuitous (if silly) display of his
power--throwing the crew into an absurd Robin Hood scenario,
with Picard as you-know-who and Vash (incongruously) as Maid
Marian, a Maid Marian who wants no part of her rescuer, fully
intending to take care of herself.  As usual with its portrayal of
independent, free-spirited women, Star Trek:  TNG
misogynistically implies that such women either control others
*with* or are controlled *by* their sexuality (don't get me 
started on the topic of Lwaxana Troi with her hyperactive sex
drive and her excessively heavy and abundant luggage--she is a
caricature of men's worst fears about women).  As she will later
do in "Q-Less," Vash prostitutes herself, attempting to seduce
Sir Guy rather than allow Picard to rescue her.  Although he is
trying to teach a lesson to Picard, Q finds himself interested in
Vash despite himself, bestowing such compliments (for him)
upon her as "I had no idea you were so ruthless" and
remarking, "I think you're worth further study."  Since he can't
actually get Picard, Picard's woman will have to do--nothing
like competition over a woman to cement some male bonding. 
Although Picard and Vash are on the verge of being executed,
thanks partly to Q's meddling, Picard's crew arrives (of course)
in the nick of time, and Picard gets to show off his
sword-fighting prowess.  Although Picard acquits himself
bravely, Q has proved his point.  When Picard worries about his
crew, Q responds, "Sadly enough, they're all fine.  But my
point is they could have been killed and so might have you all
for the love of a maid.  My debt to you, Picard, is paid if you
have learned how weak and vulnerable you really are, if you
finally see how love has brought out the worst in you."  Q is
trying so very hard to bring Picard up to his own level, to get 
him to transcend his human frailties.  In the long run, however,
all he can do is punish Picard for being "such a limited
creature" by taking Vash away from him.  Q can't help being
attracted to Vash because she also serves him as a mirror,
although a mirror that reflects different aspects of his
personality than Picard does.  Both Q and Vash are "devious
and amoral and unreliable and irresponsible and definitely not to
be trusted."  Yet ultimately she is a substitute.  Q asks Picard,
"Well, are you going to kiss her good bye?" as that is the
closest he's going to get to being kissed by Picard himself.  In
the final scene between Picard, Q, and Vash, Q puts his arm
around Vash, but both sit as if posing, merely putting on a show
for Picard's benefit.  Although the overt context of the scene is
that Q has won Vash from Picard in an exhibit of masculine
competition over a prized object of desire, Vash is simply a
medium of exchange between the two men, and de Lancie seems
to go out of his way to subvert the heterosexual context of this
scene.  Q's eyes never leave Picard during the scene; de Lancie
thus suggests that Q's interest is really in Picard, not Vash.  He
clearly has a voyeuristic interest in Picard and Vash's parting
kiss; he settles back as if to watch.  When both Picard and Vash
give him pointed looks, he sighs, "All right," and disappears. 
A  moment later, as Picard and Vash are about to kiss, Q
returns, leans back comfortably, and waits.  When it is clear
they won't kiss until he leaves, Q explains in an endearingly
awkward manner, "Oh, . . . um . . . I'm sorry.  I forgot my
hat," puts on his hat, and disappears with an obvious reluctance.

Although Picard does not appear in the next chapter of Q's
interlude with Vash, "Q-Less," he hovers over the episode like a
ghost, the unseen third side of the love triangle established in
"Qpid."  Q complains "Really, Vash, I can't believe you're still
pining for Jean-Luc, that self-righteous do-gooder," but it is Q
who is pining for Picard, not Vash.  Vash serves as a medium
of exchange between Picard and Q; if Q can reclaim Vash, then
he has a means of getting Picard's attention.  Q's interactions
with Vash are laden with spoken and unspoken references to
Picard, and Q is disappointed that Sisko (Avery Brooks) cannot
serve as an adequate substitute for the Captain.  Sisko says, "If
you're looking for sympathy, you've come to the wrong place,"
and Q retorts, "Actually what I was hoping for was a little witty
repartee, but I can see I'm not going to get any of that either." 
And to Vash he adds, "At least your beloved Jean-Luc knew
how to turn a phrase."  For Q, his sparring matches with Picard
are a form of flirtation, and Sisko won't flirt.  Picard, however,
*will* and *does*, intentionally or not, but Sisko simply doesn't
have Picard's style.  When Q, in a whimsical mood, sets up a
boxing match between himself and Sisko (another attempt at
male bonding), he's aghast when Sisko floors him: 

Q:  You hit me!  Picard never hit me.
Sisko:  I'm not Picard.
Q:  Indeed not, you're much easier to provoke.  How fortunate
for me. 

They can't seem to get rid of the ghost of Picard on this
episode.  When Sisko and his crew are unable to solve the
puzzle of the energy drain, Q remarks, "Picard and his lackeys
would have solved all this technobabble hours ago.  No wonder
you're not commanding a starship."  It's Picard Q is really
after, but he needs an excuse to drop in, an excuse that will be
provided in "Tapestry."  In the meanwhile, Vash and Sisko will
have to suffice.  In my opinion, a romantic connection between
Q and Vash doesn't work particularly well, because Vash simply
doesn't have as much to offer as Picard.  While she does
resemble Q himself in certain respects, it is in a very limited
way, and she isn't unique, energetic, intelligent, and intriguing
enough to sustain Q's interest for very long.  Summarizing his
attitude toward "Q-Less," de Lancie stated, "It's Q come back
to pine about Vash leaving him and again I say--who cares? 
Why would I be interested in the first place?" ("Q&A with John
de Lancie," Quisine #3).  Precisely. 

In "Qpid," Picard clearly demonstrated that he is not yet up to
Q's level, so Q has to try a different tactic in his effort to
remake Picard in his own image.  Despite Q's apparent
compassion and charity in allowing Picard to relive his past in
"Tapestry," there is more to this exercise.  The subtext is Q's
narcissistic desire to prove to Picard how similar the two of
them really are.  When Picard relates some of his romantic
misdemeanors, Q responds in an unmistakably affectionate tone,
"I had no idea you were such a cad.  I'm impressed." 
Describing himself in his youth, Picard remarks, "I was a
different person in those days.  Arrogant, undisciplined, with far
too much ego and far too little wisdom.  I was more like
*you*," to which Q replies, "Then you must have been far more
interesting.  Pity you had to change."  After his stint as a junior
lieutenant of astrophysics, Picard demands that Q put things
back the way they were.  He insists "I can't live out my days as
that person.  That man is bereft of passion and imagination. 
That is not who I am!"  Q replies:  "Au contraire.  He's the
person you wanted to be.  One who was less arrogant and
undisciplined in his youth, one who was less like *me*." 
Picard confesses, "You're right, Q.  You gave me the chance to
change, and I took the opportunity.  But I admit now it was a
mistake."  Q thus triumphantly proves to the Captain that it was
Picard's very resemblance to *himself* that  made him the
person he is, that Picard's arrogant, undisciplined, and Q-like
qualities were essential to his development.  

Q is even more overtly flirtatious in this episode than he is in
"Qpid," and Picard, interestingly enough, shows an intangible
ease in Q's company.  Instead of his usual hyperalertness and
rigid stance when Q draws close to him, Picard remains relaxed,
confiding in Q, seriously and intimately, about the
circumstances that led up to his being stabbed.  His irritation
with Q is more flirtatious than convincing, and he smiles
conspiratorially while relating his stellar career as a two-timing
ladies' man.  When Q "compliments" him for being a "cad,"
Picard nods slightly in a show of unspoken but understood male
complicity.  Q's body language and tone of voice are seductive
throughout Picard's interlude in the past.  Significantly enough,
after Picard's friends Marta and  Corey depart, laughing that
"Johnny" probably has another date, Q instantly appears.  He is
not only Picard's date, but he is a superior officer using his
power to seduce a subordinate.  He arrives in Picard's quarters,
brandishing a baton and announcing, "Attention on deck, Ensign
Picard!"  When Picard exclaims "Q!" Q admonishes him, in a
bedroom voice, "That's Captain Q to you, *young man*."  Q
explains to Picard, "You're twenty-one years old again, a brash
young man, fresh out of the academy," and Picard walks over to
the mirror, remarking, "I certainly don't look it," and Q comes
right up to him, looks him up and down appraisingly, then
drawls, "Well, to everyone else you do."  Picard simply nods in
acknowledgment as the two counterparts look at themselves and
each other in the mirror, but it is a nod that communicates an
unspoken sense of shared understanding.  When Q flirts, Picard
flirts back:

Picard:  What if I don't make the changes?  What if I won't
avoid the fight?
Q:  Then you die on the table, and we spend eternity together. 
Picard:  Wonderful.
Q:  I'm glad you think so.

Q's demeanor here isn't particularly menacing despite the threat
he makes; it's more a form of affectionate teasing, an affection
that is clearly evident in his tone of voice, and Picard reacts
accordingly.  Despite the life-or-death nature of Picard's visit to
his past, he seems remarkably comfortable with his erstwhile
oppressor.  Q continues to tease and taunt Picard for his egotism
and obtuseness, but Picard responds as if this is all scripted, a
kind of banter he has long since gotten used to.  When Picard is
not out mishandling his relationships with women and destroying
his friendship with Corey, he and Q seem to be in continuous
physical proximity.  As they watch the dom-jot game together in
the recreation facility, Q sits immediately next to Picard, leaning
back, his hands wrapped coyly around one knee, and Picard
stands leaning in toward him, as he tells his story.  Q later
interrupts an intimate tete-a-tete between Picard and Marta,
bringing the object of his affections an extravagant and lavish
bouquet of roses (omnipotence has some advantages,
apparently).  

The most explicitly homoerotic scene occurs after the show's
creators have made a point of  demonstrating Picard's
heterosexuality.  We wouldn't want anybody to get any ideas,
now, would we?  The morning after Picard has gone to bed with
Marta, the camera pans over his clothes strewn on the floor to
reveal Picard lying in bed on his side, obviously naked.  A hand
reaches over to stroke his ear, Picard chuckles happily in
response, then rolls over to discover Q lying next to him (fully
clothed, alas) and greeting him with a sultry-voiced, "Morning,
Darling."  Picard's initial reaction is to yank the covers up to
his neck and to react defensively when Q teases him, with a
dead-on imitation of Stewart's accent, about his amorous
evening:  "We're just friends, Q, nothing more."  As the scene
progresses, however, the two chat easily and intimately, and
Picard even spontaneously pulls down his covers to his waist, no
doubt for the benefit of his many fans of both sexes.  Q asks
Picard, conversationally, "So, what next?"  When Picard replies
thoughtfully, "I don't know, but what I do know is this time
things will be different," Q responds "I'm *sure*" in a
simultaneously affectionate and seductive tone.  This particular
scene was intended to be  filmed with the actors *sitting* on the
bed, but they decided to take matters into their own hands (or
rather, onto their own backs), thereby resembling nothing so
much as a comfortably married couple discussing their plans for
the day.  Another scene in which de Lancie kissed Stewart on
the forehead didn't make it past the guardians of morality,
however, and was cut.  Q's desire for Picard is fine as long as it
is *implied*, not overt; or if it is overt, as in "Qpid," it can
only be expressed under the cover of Q's supposed (but
implausible) lack of  gender.  (The creators of Star Trek:  TNG,
like the creators of the Lethal Weapon series, have apparently
concluded that audiences find unstated and tacit homoeroticism
titillating, as long as it isn't taken seriously; you just can't treat
it explicitly.  Star Trek fans aren't readily fooled, however--just
read some of the fan fiction on the Internet involving DS9's
Garak and Bashir.)  Despite Q's seductive and flirtatious 
demeanor, Picard, of course, still doesn't get it.  He tells Riker,
"There's still part of me that cannot accept that Q would give
me a second chance.  Or that he would demonstrate so much
compassion.  And if it was Q, I owe him a debt of gratitude." 
He explains further, "There are many parts of my youth that
I'm not proud of.  There were loose threads, untidy parts of me
that I would like to remove.  But when I pulled on one of those
threads it unravelled the tapestry of my life."  That loose thread
he pulled, of course, was his resemblance to Q, the egotism and
arrogance they both share, but that Picard tries to deny. 
Interestingly, Picard can be most himself with Q, can act on
those impulses his disciplined exterior usually represses.  In
"Tapestry," Q holds up a mirror to Picard, and that mirror is Q
himself.  Picard learns his lesson, learns to accept and embrace
that mirror image as an inextricable part of who he is.  Annie
Hamilton similarly argues, "if Picard were to look honestly in
the mirror, and to strip away all pretence, he would find that he
resembled Q uncannily.  Underneath Picard's calm tolerant
facade and Q's arrogant posturing  mask, they are fundamentally
the same."  "Tapestry" is, IMHO, the most successful Q
episode (although "All Good Things . . . " comes close) because
it explores the dynamics of Q and Picard's relationship in such a
thorough and multi-faceted way.  The writing and acting really
come together in a manner that reveals two individuals who are
fascinated and intrigued with each other, who are beginning to
feel some genuine ease in each other's presence and affection
for each other, but who continually have to wrestle to gain the
upper hand, each afraid of revealing his vulnerabilities to the
other.

Q renews his efforts at reshaping the Captain in "All Good
Things . . . ."  Having forced his alter-ego and object of desire
to acknowledge the ways in which they resemble each other, Q
returns to the project he initiated in "Qpid."  Q's principal
concern here is that Picard live up to the image he (Q) has of
him, to conform to his expectations.  When Q derides Picard as
"You obtuse piece of *flotsam*!" he is not merely expressing
the frustration of a teacher with a slow and stubborn student or
that of a mentor with a protege who has failed to live up to
expectations.  He is also expressing the rage and disappointment
of a lover who is becoming increasingly convinced that he has
bestowed his affections on an unworthy object; trying to cover
for his own chagrin, he lashes out:  "He doesn't understand!  I
have only myself to blame I suppose.  I believed in you.  I
thought you had potential.  But apparently I was wrong."  Not
happy at having to admit he may have made a poor choice, he
vents his anger on Picard, who genuinely has no clue what is
going on.  He dimly realizes that *something* is going on; he
just doesn't know what it is.  He understands that this is *not*
the usual scripted banter between two familiar sparring partners,
telling his crew, in conference, "There was a deadly earnestness
about him [Q].  I think he's serious."  Picard realizes further,
"he's always had a certain fascination with humanity, with
myself in particular.  I think he has more than a passing interest
in what happens to me."  "More than a passing interest" is an
understatement, and Picard hasn't begun to understand what that
interest consists of.  Ironically, Data has a better understanding
than anyone else, noting "Q's interest in you has always been
very similar to that of a master and his beloved pet."  Q
desperately wants Picard to succeed, to prove himself worthy of
Q's attention and affection for once and for all.  Since Q's
attraction to Picard is so proprietary, Picard's performance in
this test will reflect directly on Q himself, and his colleagues in
the Continuum would undoubtedly give him a hard time if his
pet screwed up.  When Picard does succeed, the relief and
affection in Q's voice is tangible, as he states, "The Continuum
didn't think you had it in you, Jean-Luc, but I knew you did." 
But when Picard asks Q, "Are you  saying that it worked?  We
collapsed the anomaly?" Q responds irritably with the petulance
of an unappreciated lover, "Is that all this meant to you, just
another spatial anomaly, just another day at the office?" 
Mocking his recalcitrant pupil's limited ability to comprehend
what was at stake, Q sighs, "The anomaly.  My ship.  My
crew.  I suppose you're worried about your fish, too.  Well, if
it puts your mind at ease you've saved humanity.  Once again." 
His tone during this final scene is one of both indulgence and
irritation.  On the one hand, he is proud that Picard was able to
make a leap in understanding, but on the other hand, he seems
overly frustrated at Picard's lack of comprehension.  The two
seem to achieve a moment of genuine communication which is
reinforced by their physical proximity, but it is quickly obvious
that Picard is not ready to understand what he is being offered. 
He demands, "Q, what is it that you're trying to tell me?" and
Q, about to whisper a reply in his ear (a reply that, if my
lip-reading doesn't fail me, seems to begin with the word
"I"--you fill in the blanks), changes his mind and says only
"You'll find out."  Q's frustration seems to lie in the fact that
Picard remains almost exclusively focused on the salvation of
humankind, which for Q is a minor concern.  *His* priority has
been an effort to  jumpstart Picard's development, to bring the
Captain up to his own level of knowledge and  awareness.  I
believe that is why he insists on helping Picard solve the puzzle
his superiors had mandated.  For Q the whole significance of
the test was whether Picard "had the ability to expand your
mind and your horizons," to become the mirror of himself that
he desires.  Although Picard has made a step in the right
direction, has perhaps shown himself to be a *bit* more evolved
than the rest of his species, as far as Q is concerned he still has
a long way to go.  All Q can do is keep trying to transform
Picard into a worthy object of his affections.  Anticipating his
future involvement in overseeing Picard's development, he says
"I'll be watching.  And if you're very lucky I'll drop by to say
hello from time to time.  See you *out there*."   

Conclusion

Like the rock star in concert who may advance a liberal political
agenda but who holds absolute sway over his fans, galvanizing
them into singing in unison with a single thrust of his
microphone, Q seems to represent a rebellious defiance of
institutional authority, an authority embodied both by Picard and
by the Q Continuum, but is actually an oppressor himself.  He
compels the submission of his "subjects" with the traditional
tactics of totalitarian regimes:  rigged trials, kidnapping, forced
detention, and terror.  To Q, the ends, however brutal, justify
the means.  What I find fascinating is how the producers,
directors, writers, and performers of a show with such
idealistic, liberal, and humanistic intentions as Star Trek:  TNG
nevertheless fall (unconsciously, I suspect) into the potentially
fascist paradigm of promoting a charismatic and extremely
powerful authority figure as  the solution to our most pressing
problems, whether they involve one individual's growth (in 
"Qpid," "True Q," and "Tapestry") or our survival (in "Q
Who," "Q-Less," and "All Good Things . . . ").  Q represents
brute power, and his sway over humankind is absolute.  At this
point you may think that I am being unduly critical, that I have
it in for this show and Q's portrayal in particular.  That is not
my intention, however.  I am a very devoted and increasingly
obsessive Star Trek fan (if it's good enough for Stephen
Hawking, it's good enough for me), and I confess that I have
been utterly captivated by Q's charms.  De Lancie and Stewart
are, IMHO, dynamic, compelling, and sexy performers, and the
two of them together on a single screen, with that remarkable
chemistry they've managed to generate between them, create an
irrestistible combination.  I admit it; like so many of their fans,
I'm smitten.  So why all this analysis into the nature of Q's
appeal?  When I try to engage my six-year old daughter in
discussions about the violence and gender stereotypes in the
stories she reads and TV shows and movies she watches, she
inevitably cuts off the discussion by declaring, in a weary, bored
tone only a six-year old can muster, "It's *only* a story,
Mom."  Quite so.  Star Trek:  TNG is, after all, *only* a story,
but as a story (and an overwhelmingly popular story at that) it
is, nonetheless, a mirror of and potentially  an influence on our
society.  If we take the time to analyze why a character like Q
appeals to us so strongly, we gain an insight into our own
dreams, desires, and fantasies, and the extent to which those
dreams, desires, and fantasies have been culturally conditioned
by years of exposure to popular books, movies, TV shows, and
music.  In my own tactless and Q-like way, I am trying to fulfill
a Q-like function--to raise questions.  Doing so should not
detract from the experience of enjoying Star Trek; rather, it
should enrich the experience.  If our emotional responses and
our critical judgment contradict each other, leading to a state of
cognitive dissonance, then that is all to the better.  That
dissonance is worth exploring.  If we understand why we are so
taken with Q, we begin to understand more about ourselves.  

We want a hero who is larger than life, who can give us a
vicarious experience of self-sufficiency and power, but we also
want that hero to be human after all, to share our values and
emotions.  Q simultaneously satisfies two of our most cherished
fantasies:  he can do whatever he wants and get away with it,
and he is the godlike protector who solves our problems for us. 
Q initially appeals to us in his omnipotence.  Who among us
hasn't fantasized about eliminating the moron who cut us off on
the freeway with a wave of the hand, or much more seriously,
about bringing a loved one back to life "with a snap of a
finger"?  As the fan I quoted at the opening rhapsodizes, "Q is
the end all be all of all my aspirations."  Lou Chapman is
intrigued by "the sheer mindboggledom of his power,"
exclaiming, "What a guy!!"  Robert Savoie asks, "Omnipotence
is the ultimate desire of  anyone, wouldn't you say?"  A fan
who identifies himself as Kahless the Unforgettable says "the
reason I am intrigued by Q is that he can do anything he wants,
and what he does usually turns out funny."  We may be tempted
and intrigued by his ability to get away with self-indulgently
doing whatever he wants and tactlessly saying whatever is on his
mind, but Q does not serve as a role model.  Q is very much
the parent who says, "Do as I say, not as I do."  And ultimately
we cannot attain even a fraction of a *fraction* of Q's power
and self-sufficiency.  He is an impossibly remote and
unattainable ideal, and if he were to remain invulnerable,
without diluting his misanthropy, he would cease to charm us. 
It is in acknowledging our worth, despite (or because of) our
frailties and limitations, that Q gains our allegiance, it is in
acknowledging his own vulnerabilities.  He particularly validates
our feelings by sharing our fascination with our stalwart and
sexy starship Captain (it's not only women and gays who are
entranced by Picard; I've heard several *straight* men
acknowledge Stewart's sex appeal).  Q had to be humanized to
retain his fans' allegiance, he had to provide us with a reason to
identify *with* him, he had to be rendered  accessible and
sympathetic, and it is in his love for Picard that we see him at
his most human, revealing his vulnerabilities in the very process
of trying to conceal them with an assertion of his own
superiority.  With Q we can have our cake and eat it too; he
represents the allure of absolute power, while at the same time
affirming the advantages of our own powerless*ness*.  He may
be a brutal and authoritarian leader, but he is, after all, a
reluctant one.  Q's discontent with his omnipotent and immortal
state tells us plainly that humans are really better off than he is. 
As Anthony Guzzi notes, "I am intrigued by Q because he has
the power to do anything imaginable, and yet he still chooses to
interfere with mortals; it's like he has nothing better to do." 
Ultimately I believe it is Q's contradictory nature which
fascinates us so; in his inconsistency, he represents infinite
possibilities.  He is the ruthless despot who uses totalitarian
methods to teach an ultimately liberal and humanistic message of
human progress; he is the omnipotent and immortal superbeing
who teaches the humanistic Picard to embrace his own
humanity, warts and all.  Q also offers infinite possibilities of
interpretation, from Annie Hamilton's "More Maligned than
Malignant," a  spirited and lively defense of Q as a teacher in
her Australian fanzine Quisines, to Alara Rogers' stories which
define Q's role as questioner and devil's advocate.  He can be,
as she notes, "benevolent or malevolent, an adversary who helps
you grow, a champion who stultifies you, the village idiot or the
boy who says the Emperor has no clothes."  He is, as Janet
Coleman remarks, both "Lucifer" and "deus ex machina," with 
"more than the U.S. RDA of sex appeal!"  Q "gets to do all the
stuff we can't," yet he pays us the ultimate tribute of revealing
that he would rather be like us with our capacity for wonder and
our awareness of "how important each moment must be."  We
should be grateful that Q is willing to serve as our protector and
guide and even more grateful that we do *not* share his powers
and immortality.  Q ironically serves to teach us to appreciate
our own flawed humanity, showing us, in effect, that
omnipotence isn't everything it's cracked up to be.