Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!cam-news-feed1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-feed2.bbnplanet.com!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!howland.erols.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 1/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 21:59:24 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 161 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54h9ps$r23@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader =================== Right On Q ================= An Original ST:TNG Short Story by Terrie Holahan Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) ============================================ STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION and all of the characters, places, etc. normally associated with TNG (the ones you can find in the Encyclopedia and other "canon" material) are the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. All literary references have been cited. However, everything else (Kildarae, Thaemes, & related characters/events) is mine. It does not intend to infringe on Paramount's copyright in any way since it was written for my personal enjoyment. Do not change or alter in any way. AUTHOR'S NOTES This story was originally written and completed in September/October 1991, long before "True Q" aired in the sixth season of TNG. Needless to say I felt the treatment of Q in the TNG episode was vastly inferior to my own work and, with the exception of one final short story, all but ended my writing in the realm of TNG. Also, I just completed course work in British Romantic Literature which explains my obsessiveness with it in this piece. Special thanks go to Nyani-Iisha F. Martin for "reminding" me I still had this thing archived on my hard drive. Comments are always welcome at TDrummonds@aol.com, but please no flames. ADDITIONAL ADDITIONALS.... The prologue takes place approximately six months before "Encounter at Farpoint." The main story takes place in the middle of the Enterprise-D's fifth year before their annual visit by Q. Riker's vacation Picard refers to is from the Peter David novel "Strike Zone." Djera's telepathic powers are based on Ann Crispin's novel "Eyes of the Beholders." Mendon was a Benzite from "A Matter of Honor" whose silence almost caused the need for an Enterprise-E. The Ornanans that Deanna refers to are from the episode "Symbiosis." Other episode references include "Encounter at Farpoint," "Hide and Q," "Q Who?," "Deja Q," "Q-pid," "Evolution," "Tin Man," and "Captain's Holiday." And, of course, William Shakespeare, William Wordsworth and the bally-hoo of British Romantic poets. . .. +++++++++++++++++ Prologue +++++++++++++++++++++ "They shake hands. It is not so terrible, gellic. It could be worse. Why, in ancient Sarilia, the formal greeting between two tribes included sacrificing one member of each and then. . .." "Thank you, baugh," Ren-Gellic-Faw cut off the woman before she had a chance to finish the grisly description. Horrific accounts of Kildarian history did not go well after dinner, especially a full seven course meal. Faw adjusted his reddish-brown robes as he leaned back in his chair. He was in his fifteenth round as a gellic and already fifty-two seasons old. Despite the constant flow of compliments that he looked fine for his age, Faw could feel the wrinkles creeping onto his features and could see the silver snaking through his straight, chin length hair. When he had accepted his position as "Foreign Mediator from Renshalton," Faw had not anticipated the definition of "foreign" to include aliens. Not people from a different continent sneaking from one to another for a better opportunity to live, but honest to the Four Deities aliens. From another planet. In another solar system. It was enough to give a mediator a massive headache. And a massive ulcer. "Gellic," the woman prompted as she tapped her foot slightly under her beige silken robes. Her eyes were like finely polished Dizalian crystals with their clear deep hues of violet. It was those eyes that looked down disdainfully at him, perturbed that somehow, Faw's attention had lapsed away from her. "My pardons, baugh. My mind was elsewhere," he explained and gave a small smile. "No kidding," he heard her mutter as she turned to the large screen. Someone of her lower rank and position would never be disrespectful of a gellic, but Sar-Baugh-Ria had a habit of adding a bit of sarcasm to her statements when she felt like it. Perhaps it was what had made her the best candidate for the position of "devil's advocate" for the people of Kildarae. She had no qualms about calling down one of the aliens on a subtle point, but always did it with such politeness it was amazing that the aliens shrugged it off as humor. Faw did not believe them to be stupid or ignorant of her comments, merely exhibiting tolerance. Again, his attention wandered. "Since the Federation's arrival three months ago, we have spent time learning their history and laws as well. Their common language is called `standard English' and I have learned to speak it," she told him and walked over to his chair. Faw had been looking out the window momentarily and did not see or hear her approach until she was five inches from his face and had both hands on the armrests of his chair. "Gellic, I will video this if you think it would be better." Faw knew that she was seething. Sar-Baugh-Ria usually hid behind a mask of indifference but now the edges of her mouth twitched in irritation. "I have heard what you have said, baugh," he said. "I assure you that I will be prepared for the formal gathering tomorrow evening. Perhaps you can tell me why that you who is supposed to be suspicious of these Starfleets. . .." "Humans, gellic," she corrected impatiently. "Humans." "Humans," repeated Faw politely and then restated, "you who are supposed to be suspicious of these humans are bothering with preparing me for this meeting. Your concerns should be elsewhere." One of her dark gold eyebrows raised in indignance, "Gellic, I have studied these humans and their United Federation of Planets in keeping with my position of baugh. I am the most qualified to brief you." "Ahhh. Not that you have any personal interests in them at all," he remarked with a touch of sarcasm. Sar-Baugh-Ria's finely chiseled features almost cracked in irritation as her dark gold skin flushed slightly. She looked delicate, as all Kildarians did, but was as strong as any of the Starfleets. It was not her attractiveness that bothered Faw but the Kildarian resemblance to these Starfleets. Except for their cat-like eyes, Kildarians could pass for humans with ease. "Gellic," her voice was on the edge of being polite yet disrespectful, "their greeting is one of a simple `hello' followed by a handshake. There is no ceremonial bow or ritualistic greeting." Faw was pleased. She had ignored the earlier barb but also let him know, in her own little way, that she did not appreciate it. It was all conveyed in her voice. That beautifully melodic voice. He smiled again. "I say `eel-lo'?" "No, the word is `hello' with an `heh' not an `ee'," she told him. "Heh-eel-lo." "Keep practicing, gellic," she advised him. "The celebration is in two days." "There is no need to worry, baugh," he assured her. "I will have learned the proper greeting. Now, tell me what else you know about these humans." Sar-Baugh-Ria circled the room as she began her neat speech. The Federation had responded to a probe launched eighteen years ago from Kildarae and sent a team to observe the lifestyle of the Kildarians. They had waited until the Kildarians had neared warp drive capability before showing themselves and introducing the concept of aliens from another star system. The Starfleet captain who had made what they termed a "first contact" was named Captain Walt Ronbin of the USS Jackson and he had kept in constant contact with Kildarae's chosen leader, Par-Haegop-Han. Haegop had in turn chosen Faw to assist with the mediation between the two. They were in the middle of deciding if Kildarae should join the Federation or not. Das-Baugh-Lo from the Dasian continent served as the advocate for the Federation and strongly advised the treaty because of economic reasons. Sar-Baugh-Ria agreed to the joining of the Federation, but wanted to wait until the Kildarian economy stabilized on its own before signing any treaties. Faw had to hear both arguments and sum them up for Haegop. Haegop would then decide which plan to go with or perhaps a combination of the two. The planetary peace of Kildarae had only been in place for five years and there was still tensions between the seventeen continents. Faw knew what his recommendation had to be. Faw's attention had wandered yet again and Sar-Baugh-Ria this time slammed a trisdal mug down on his desk. It almost shattered from the force. Faw looked up. "Yes, baugh?" "It seems that I cannot hold your thoughts today," she snapped. "If there would be a better time when the outside is not so interesting, I will return." "There is no need, baugh," he told her. "I know what I will tell Haegop." Her eyebrows raised slightly with interest. "And?" "You will find out, baugh." They had to wait. They had to wait five years to see if peace on Kildarae could last that long. They had to wait five years to get the public used to the idea of aliens. They had to wait. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!cam-news-feed1.bbnplanet.com!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!howland.erols.net!news-peer.gsl.net!news.gsl.net!portc01.blue.aol.com!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: REPOST: "Right on Q" Part 2/9 (TNG) PG Date: 28 Oct 1996 06:18:10 -0500 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 236 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <5524pi$58f@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 2 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Ah, Captain Picard!" Jean-Luc Picard cringed inwardly, turned on heel, and gave a sharp tug to the jacket of his formal dress uniform. Granted, he had wanted to be included in the celebration officially welcoming the Kildarians to the Federation, but somehow in his excitement he had forgotten just how tedious introductions became. He watched as the Benzite ambassador brought yet another Kildarian representative up to meet him. Picard sighed inwardly and put on his best diplomatic smile. These things, after all, were essential to the good will of the Federation. "Yes, Ambassador Torbinn?" he asked and inclined his head towards the man's companion. Jean-Luc easily recognized the Kildarian by his eyes, the straight, chin-length hair (one of the admirals commented that the barber must have used a bowl to get it all one length), and his almost glowing skin. The beige floor length robes swished at the man's feet as he seemed to float alongside of the blue skinned ambassador. "This is Das-Baugh-Lo," Torbinn introduced and stumbled over the man's name. It seemed that Torbinn treasured how many people he knew as a status symbol and never let anyone forget just who he knew. The ambassador also felt that it was his duty to introduce everyone to everyone. Picard had some dealings with Benzites before, but never one that picked up on the worst characteristics of a delegate and amplified them like Torbinn. There were cultural differences between humans and Benzites and the captain understood that. One of those differences almost caused the destruction of the Enterprise three years ago because an exchange officer had failed to report about a hull-eating bacteria, but unlike Mendon, Torbinn couldn't keep his mouth shut about anything and his babbling was incessant. Could it be the Benzite drive to please people that was driving him crazy or the fact that he didn't like Torbinn at all? He didn't want the question to be answered. He was afraid of how he would find out. "Greetings to you, Captain Picard," Das-Baugh-Lo said. Picard returned the delegate's bow, "And also to you, Das- Baugh-Lo." Torbinn simply beamed with pleasure. "The ambassador has told of your many accomplishments," the Kildarian stated, his tone oddly flat. One of the things that had caught Picard's attention about the Kildarians was their melodic voices. Perhaps this Kildarian had grown as tired of the introductions as he had. The captain smiled and wryly replied, "I am sure he has." The sound Torbinn made was somewhere between a crow's caw and someone choking and the captain wondered how long it had taken the Benzite to develop such a terrible stage laugh. It made the hair on the back of Picard's neck stand on end and was the single most irritating thing that Torbinn did, even more irritating than his introductions. Picard glanced at the Kildarian but the man kept his features carefully neutral as he looked around the conference room. "Forgive me, Captain Picard and Ambassador Torbinn, I believe that I am needed elsewhere at the moment." Both men nodded their approval as the Kildarian disappeared into the crowd. Jean-Luc watched him and wondered if the same tactic could work twice in a row. The octagonal conference room was walled with thick glass and all but one side had thick ruby curtains hanging down from the white, domed ceiling. Along one of the walls was the buffet table with two ten foot ice sculptures, one of the Federation's seal and the other of the Kildarian Consulate seal. He estimated that there were four hundred people stuffed into this rather small room and the air was humid. "Excuse me, ambassador," Picard spotted the uncurtained door and decided that it was time for him to "enjoy" his vacation. "I believe that I have duties elsewhere as well." Picard made his escape before Torbinn could hook him into another introduction. The doors led out into a large semi-circular plaza with seven paths leading out from it and between each were small stone benches. Only a few delegates had sought the peace and solitude of the courtyard, but Picard wished to be totally isolated, if only for a few moments. He knew that within a matter of minutes, the conference room would become over-crowded and people would overflow into the plaza area for "a breath of fresh air." Jean-Luc decided he should "experience" more of Thaemian culture than just the few ice sculptures he had seen inside on the buffet tables. Picard chose one of the walkways and admired the construction of the path itself. The path was four stones wide with the two outer stones tilted towards the path. The middle pieces were plain and showed signs of heavy use while the outer ones were finely chiseled art work. Each had a different design depicting a scene out of classic Thaemian literature and he realized how similar some of the settings were to Homer, Sophocles, and Greek mythology. Every third row had a small colored stone to indicate which path was which. The walkways were lined with five meter high shrubs of alternated varieties and matched the scene they were planted by. He had been told that the gardens were over seven hundred years old and the careful preservation of the art work on the outer stones allowed people to wander through the mazes. They served as a catharsis for him, as he let all the pressures of being Captain Jean-Luc Picard lessen for just a moment. Just what the doctor had ordered. . .well. . . what she had threatened to order. He vividly remembered the conversation between himself and his chief medical officer four days ago. "Captain," she had started with the same tone she always used when she was about to discuss his health, "there is a crew member whose has been ignoring his health. The recreational side of his health." "Oh, and what does the Chief Medical Officer recommend as treatment for this malady?" He hadn't even looked up from his paperwork. He knew what was coming. It didn't take a Starfleet captain to figure out what she was about to say. "Um, the usual treatment. Shore leave." She heard his grumble. Mistake number one. Letting the CMO hear you grumble. "Now, captain. From what I understand, you had a very enjoyable vacation two years ago on Risa. Very enjoyable." "You're beginning to sound like Will." "At least Will knows how to enjoy himself and knows when he should take a vacation." "If I remember correctly, one time I had to order him to take shore leave." "But ever since then, he's been very punctual about it. Unlike you. It's been almost two years, Jean-Luc." "I do not wish to return to Risa." "I'm not suggesting that, captain. How about a change in scenery? The admission of Kildarae to the Federation is being held on Thaemes." "The point, doctor?" "The point is that Thaemes is very similar to northern France and has some of the most beautiful gardens in the galaxy and it's *not* one of the scenarios provided on the holodeck." There was a pause. A rather lengthy pause. He had two choices--either he could surrender now or face whatever his first officer and ship's counselor had waiting outside of his ready room. "If I attend this conference which lasts. . .." "Two weeks," she filled in. "Two weeks, then. Will the CMO deem me healthy to return to normal duty?" "Of course." "And will make sure it does not become ship's business?" "Certainly, Jean-Luc." "Especially to a certain first officer?" "My lips are sealed." "But he had a hand in this." "He promises not to ask for any souvenirs this time, sir." Picard had shot her a glance for the first time during their entire conversation. Her lips formed a mischievous grin and he remembered the long sigh he gave as he nodded his agreement. Now, instead of having a "no-stress vacation", he found himself escaping the grating stage laugh of a Benzite ambassador by losing himself in the garden mazes of Thaemes after sunset. Some vacation. It could be worse, he consoled himself. A lot worse. He followed the path without much thought, mostly admiring the art work and allowing it to lead him through the red maze. The twin moons of Thaemes gave off ample light for him to see by. Then to his right, a tributary path seemed to appear out of no where and he looked up and saw that it lead to a grotto with a polished marble bench. The right outer stone series had been telling a tale in pictures and continued on into the small area. Deciding to finish "reading" the story, Jean-Luc turned and kept his eyes on the stonework. The last thing he expected to do was bump into someone, literally. "Pardon me, I did not mean to intrude," he apologized and prepared for a swift exit. "It is no problem," the voice was low, deep, and definitely female. The carefully pronounced short "I" as a long "e", the short "o" as an "ooh", and rolled "r" identified her as Kildarian. She was dressed in ambassadorial robes and her hair was tied neatly at the nape of her neck. Picard knew that she was not a high ranking official by her clothing so he knew that he could leave without causing much of trouble and be considered "rude." He retreated. Jean-Luc Picard was not the type to strike up conversations with strange women no matter how lovely they were. That was Will Riker's style. Jean-Luc preferred to have them make the initial move then he would act accordingly. When Data had asked him one time about his technique with women, he had sharply turned the android down on the bridge. It was not something he discussed with anyone. He was not embarrassed about his personal life, but kept it just that--personal. Vash had a difficult time understanding that he did not trade stories with his crew. He believed that a captain should be accessible to his crew, but not on the same level. He had to maintain his authority. He heard the click of heels on the walkway and turned. The woman he had left in the grotto was following the scenes down the path and apparently did not notice him. He moved to the right side of the path and resumed his reading. "I have noticed how similar these stories are to ancient Sarilia," her voice floated up from behind. "Are they similar to yours?" He wasn't startled that she decided to speak to him nor surprised at the subject matter she chose. It was neutral, conversational, and informative: the trademarks of a good ambassador. Picard almost laughed. Here he was on vacation and he was dissecting the conversation as if he were on the bridge of the Enterprise. He smiled slightly and cleared his throat. "They are." She moved in front of him and faced him, her eyebrows raised slightly in a questioning manner. "Torbinn caused you to leave as well?" His smile widened a little, "Fresh air is always helpful during admission ceremonies." She smiled a radiant smile, "Perhaps we may discuss it over dinner. There is a restaurant on the other side of the maze. Unless you would prefer to return to the conference rooms." He had heard that offer somewhere before, at least a very similar offer. Jean-Luc Picard finally placed it--it was something his first officer would say. He silently laughed. "I have not had a chance to see much of Thaemes," he said and she motioned for them to continue down the path. He joined her. "Neither have I," she replied as her robes swirled slightly around her. "You must be the Starfleet captain Ambassador Torbinn has been talking about. I am Sar-Baugh-Ria." "Jean-Luc Picard," he nodded. "He has spoken of your accomplishments on several occasions. I have heard so much of your record, it is hard to believe that one man could do so much." "I have a very competent staff," Picard chuckled without the biting sarcasm he would have used with Torbinn. "Most of the stories are exaggerated quite a bit." "All great leaders have exaggerated stories about them. It is a sign of true leadership. On Kildarae, it is seen as a sign of historical significance. You would been deemed as a great military strategist, from what Ambassador Torbinn says about you." "Are well versed in Kildarian history?" he asked. "I have studied it for the past six years as a hobby of mine." She paused slightly before continuing, "I often compare it to Federation history that I have read. Das-Baugh-Lo and I have many arguments over the various development of cultures. You insight would be interesting." "Thank you for the invitation, Sar-Baugh-Ria." "Please, call me Ria. The first part of a Kildarian name indicates where he or she is from." She carefully stepped around a loose set of stones before continuing. "Ria is my true name. You would call it a `first name'." "Such as Jean-Luc." "Yes." Her smile was absolutely radiant. "As in Jean-Luc." Ria gently touched his forearm, "I have heard that this is the best restaurant on the planet." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "Never tell the same lie twice." TDrummonds@aol.com Garak, DS9's IMPROBABLE CAUSE Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!news-feed.iguide.com!news.uoregon.edu!hunter.premier.net!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!howland.erols.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!n From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 3/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 21:59:39 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 218 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54h9qb$r2h@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 3 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sar-Baugh-Ria was fascinated by humans, simply fascinated. Something about their drive, their intuition, and their way of thinking almost surpassed the Kildarians. Her thoughts turned to the starship captain. Ria was hardly the type to chase after men but something about him caught her attention. She had been contemplating her next trip when he had interrupted her in the grotto. Unlike Torbinn (who would have seized the opportunity to make himself more annoying), Jean-Luc retreated. That idiosyncracy in behavior caught her attention. Their dinner had been pleasant yet quiet, each reveling in the fact that they were not being interrupted with some "important" piece of information that required their "undivided" attention. Something really important such as Das-Baugh-Lo leaving for Federation Starbase 379 to study Terran politics and the complications his abdication as baugh would cause. As if Ria could really do something about it right at that moment. It seemed as if all the Kildarians who came into contact with the Federation wished to become more involved with their new allies. They wanted to learn, to explore, to study, and to do countless other things. Ren-Gellic-Faw would be left to find a whole new collection of baughs from the seventeen continents and he would probably attempt to loop Ria into replacing all of his missing council members. Ria would politely decline and then abdicate her position as Sarilia's baugh. The gellic would go into a frenzy. Ria didn't care. She was ready to move on. Her job was done. Her "mission" (to use a Federation term) would be complete. Her thoughts traveled back to the starship captain and she smiled. He was polite, refined, and very well educated. How had Torbinn described the captain? Starfleet's greatest living captain? Starfleet's best field strategist? Torbinn had gone on and on about the captain and had bored Ria with his babbling. Jean-Luc barely mentioned his missions on board the flagship. Ria had been impressed. Usually humans broke their arms patting themselves on their backs because of their accomplishments. Ria had been so impressed by his display of humility (contrary to what her brother had described as all consuming arrogance and self-love) that she and Jean-Luc were dining together tomorrow night at the second best restaurant on Thaemes. It didn't matter that it was on the other side of the planet. Jean-Luc was an accomplished pilot and could make a routing shuttle trip quite interesting. *** "Captain Picard!" the shout stopped the captain dead in his tracks. Mon Dieu, not again, he silently pleaded. It had been an excellent evening, far better than he expected, and it looked like this vacation wasn't going to involve Ferengi or an unscrupulous archaeologist. He heard Torbinn's heavy footfalls as the ambassador practically ran to catch up to him. "Captain," Torbinn panted as he finally got up to Picard and tried to match the captain's resumed brisk pace. "You missed most of the festivities. The food was excellent." "I'm certain you enjoyed it," he stated flatly and knew he had wasted his sarcasm on the ambassador. The last thing Picard needed was an insulted ambassador making his life pure hell, but wasn't that what Torbinn was doing now? "Sar-Baugh-Ria was not there either," Torbinn baited the line but Picard refused to bite. "Is she an ambassador?" "She handles the Kildarian aspect of their joining the Federation. She's their devil's advocate." He stopped for a moment to catch his breath but Picard did not slow his own pace. Torbinn then double stepped to bring himself into stride with the captain, "She's the equivalent of a junior officer." "Like yourself," Picard jabbed and immediately reigned himself in. That was hardly the way a starship captain would act no matter what the circumstances. "Hawh hawh hawh!" Torbinn's obvious stage laugh caused Picard to stop and face the ambassador. "Forgive me, ambassador," he used his polite yet forceful tone. "I am fatigued from my travels and wish to retire for the evening." Torbinn held back another pleasantry and instead replied, "Oh, sorry, captain. I didn't take that into consideration." Jean-Luc visibly straightened in displeasure. "Have a good evening, captain." "Thank you, ambassador," Picard curtly nodded and made his way to his quarters. Tonight he was going to rest without the worries of a red alert or a subspace message or something that needed his immediate attention. *** "I'm sorry, captain," Admiral Michelle Griffith apologized as she walked around her desk and sat down, "but the Enterprise is the closest vessel. The distress call came in just last hour. The Haubrich colony needs the vaccine as soon as possible." Jean-Luc smiled slightly and took his position across from the admiral. Piled on her desk was paperwork and the admiral seemed a bit weary. "Metou is a rare virus to the Federation and only seems to affect terraformed colonies," she explained. "The Kildarians made the cure available five years ago after their people battled against outbreaks." "No doubt the Kildarians will want a representative to watch over the distribution," Picard commented and tapped his jaw with his fore finger. "Ren-Gellic-Faw has expressed that wish," Griffith confirmed. "I have contacted Commander Riker and have informed him of the situation. They will arrive at 1930 hours." She paused as a knowing smile spread across her face. "I'm sorry to cut your shore leave short." Jean-Luc immediately met the eyes of the admiral but kept his features carefully neutral. Did everyone in Starfleet know about his vacation? Her eyes twinkled, "You're not the first starship captain to use admission ceremonies as a cover for much needed shore leave." *** Sar-Baugh-Ria cast a scathing glance at Ren-Gellic-Faw, "What would be the purpose of a Kildarian representative on a Federation ship while they treat a virus with our medicine? We would simply be underfoot and they will think us as meddlesome." "It is not in your duties to play advocate to me, Sar-Baugh," Ren-Gellic-Faw snapped. He was tired of the ceremonies, tired of endless number of baughs abdicating their positions, and tired of dealing with this belligerent baugh. He didn't want to alienate her by making her do this, but saw no other choice. He knew that she was planning on leaving, he could tell. He'd been a gellic for twenty seasons and knew the signs all too well. "You will be on board that ship when they treat the colonists." At any time, Ria could have walked away and started her vacation without his approval. She did not need it. She was a free citizen and not bound by duties. She had performed her tasks quite well and had completed them so he could never say she abandoned her position as baugh. Ria had not missed the emphasis on her title and birthplace when he had addressed her, but she again was not bound by it. "It serves no purpose," she replied flatly. "It serves as a public relations tool," Ren-Gellic-Faw snarled and took a step closer to her. "Then go yourself." "I have not been vaccinated against it." "A likely story." "Sar-Baugh, you will not use that tone with me!" "I will go, but it will be my last duty to the Kildarian Consulate. I will leave and send my report." Sar-Baugh-Ria walked out on the highest ranking Kildarian official on Thaemes before he could say another word. She did not wish to hear it. Her brisk pace to her quarters kept her from dwelling on Ren- Gellic-Faw's pompous attitude. She was in no mood to be ordered around anymore. She had served her purpose and that was that. She knew why Faw had chosen her. Her relationship with Jean-Luc had not escaped his attention. Ria was irritated that Faw would manipulate the situation to suit his needs but knew that all humanoids had that tendency. It was not one that she particularly cared for. *** William T. Riker stood four steps from the edge of the transporter platform and gave a sharp tug to his uniform jacket (a motion covertly known throughout the ship as "the Picard Maneuver"). He had received orders from Starfleet Command three hours ago and had immediately changed course to return to Thaemes. The senior staff had already been briefed and the medical teams were prepared for the rescue operations. All Will Riker had to do was brief the captain on the crew's progress. When he, Beverly, and Worf had walked into transporter room one, O'Brien had informed them that there were two to beam up and thanks to Admiral Griffith's warning, Riker knew who the other one was--a Kildarian delegate. Just what he needed. He hoped that this ambassadorial visit would not be as bad as the last few. "Energize," Riker ordered and watched as the captain and the Kildarian ambassador materialized on the platform. The captain immediately stepped off and assisted the delegate. "Welcome back, captain," Will smiled. "Thank you, Number One," the captain replied. "Sar-Baugh-Ria, this is my first officer, Commander William Riker." "Greetings to you," the Kildarian extended her hand to him. Will accepted her hand and gave it a firm shake, "Welcome to the Enterprise, Ambassador Sar-Baugh-Ria." She smiled an enigmatic smile, "Thank you, First Officer Commander William Riker." "This is my chief medical officer, Doctor Beverly Crusher," Picard introduced and gestured toward her. Ria nodded and turned with the captain to face the Klingon standing protectively by Riker. "And my chief of security, Lieutenant Worf." From the folds of her beige silk robes, Ria produced a small silver box and handed it to Worf. "The Metou vaccine for your inspection, Lieutenant Worf." Worf accepted the box, opened it, quickly looked it over, closed it, and handed it to Beverly in one smooth motion. He had not missed the ambassador's polite poke at Riker's manners. Apparently, she thought her title amusing. He did not like it. "Thank you, Ambassador," Beverly gripped the box tightly. "Captain, I can begin to replicate it immediately." "Make it so, doctor," Jean-Luc said and walked towards the door with Ria two steps behind him. "Number One, prepare guest quarters for Sar-Baugh-Ria. In the mean time, baugh, would you like a tour of the ship?" "Certainly, Captain." The two left Riker, Crusher, and Worf in the transporter room. Will grinned, "Looks like the captain enjoyed his vacation." Beverly suppressed a chuckle. Worf crossed his arms and quietly grumbled. *** In the solitude of the turbolift, Ria smiled and turned to Jean-Luc. "You looked surprised." "I thought Kildarians never shook hands," he replied noncommittally. "I am on a Federation ship," she said as her eyes twinkled. "I must follow your customs, not Kildarian customs." "When in Rome. . .." "Another human cliche?" He laughed. "Yes, and something my first officer would say." "He certainly is charming. Your imitation of him is impeccable." "So I've been told." "Except for one part. . .." "Yes?" "He hasn't told me about my eyes `being the windows to the galaxy'." "Give him time." "Unless he thinks that we are involved with each other, Jean- Luc." Her forefinger traveled from his collar to his communicator. "What would give him that idea?" "He does not know that `baugh' is my title, not my name." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!cam-news-feed1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-feed2.bbnplanet.com!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!howland.erols.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 4/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 21:59:40 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 276 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54h9qc$r2i@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 4 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Beverly was never one for audiences, especially ambassadors wanting to oversee a replication process, but Sar-Baugh-Ria had stayed out of the way by sitting in a chair strategically placed to watch overall of sickbay. The replication process had gone faster than expected and already they had enough to treat four hundred people. She hadn't missed Jean-Luc's muted affection for the ambassador, years of working with him and seeing that look from his eyes clued her in immediately. Will had picked up on it to and seemed extremely satisfied with the fact that the captain had "enjoyed" himself, although no one knew how much. Beverly didn't know quite what to make of the whole thing. She wasn't jealous. She just was not at ease. Over the past five years her relationship with Jean-Luc had taken a much less emotional turn than she would have liked. First Vash came on board and then the whole business with Odan. Beverly had consoled herself with the understanding of a long standing friendship with the captain. The closest they came to ever voicing their true feelings for each other was when Picard had been kidnaped by the aliens and replaced with a version of him that had "wined and dined" her. She had never told him exactly what had gone on between the her and the false Picard, only stating that dinner was "unusual". Beverly walked over to where the delegate was quietly stationed and asked, "Is there anything I may get you, ambassador?" "No, thank you," the woman replied and then touched Beverly on the arm. "It is baugh, not ambassador." Beverly's eyebrows raised in curiosity, "Pardon me?" "My title is baugh, not ambassador," the Kildarian repeated her correction. "Oh, I see." "Addressing me as Ambassador Sar-Baugh-Ria is the equivalent of calling you Chief Medical Officer Doctor Beverly Crusher," she continued. "It is unnecessary." "Like First Officer Commander William Riker," Beverly filled in with a mischievous grin, the delegate's unusual greeting finally making sense. She couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes. It is either Chief Medical Officer or Doctor, never both. For Kildarians, it is always the middle part of the name," Sar-Baugh-Ria smiled. She then looked around sickbay again. "Your sickbay is very remarkable. I hope the vaccine be suitable for the colonists." "Well, their cell structure is similar to your people's so it should have the same effect. It may take it a while longer to work but it should." "With this technology, I am sure that you will be able to accommodate the sickly. Metou was such a tragedy on our world," the delegate told her. "I am grateful that our misfortune has been able to help others." "I'm glad that we were able to work together on this," Beverly replied. *** ". . .So here I find myself. You know, counselor. . .I mean Deanna, thanks for listening to me. That's all I really needed, I think." Counselor Deanna Troi gave a reassuring smile and placed her hand on top of Ensign Skua's. "Sometimes you just have to let it all out, Tomas. There's nothing wrong with that. I am glad you came to see me." "And I'm glad that we could meet in Ten Forward. It's nothing against you but I just feel more comfortable here than in your office." The ensign immediately regretted his words and cringed. "It's quite all right." "Uh. . .Thanks again, Deanna." "You're welcome." She watched as the nervous, blonde haired, young man faded into the crowd. Tomas had been uptight about coming to see her but more upset about having to use her office. She reviewed his case in her mind. Tomas Skua had talked about adjusting to Enterprise life and the pressure that came from commanding officers expecting the best out of the crew. It was like that on any ship, but the Enterprise had a stigma to her that sometimes affected crew members differently. Tomas' problem came from demanding too much of himself and it "backfiring" on him. Skua's three months on board had been nearly disastrous and Geordi LaForge was doing his best to calm the ensign down and relax him. Tomas had seen it as almost a punishment but when he had spoken to her about it, Deanna had only felt admiration for Geordi not anger. A little hero worship never hurt anyone as long as one knew how to handle it. Tomas was slowly getting a handle on his and Deanna knew after today that the ensign had a little more confidence about himself. That's probably all he needed. Having that resolved for the moment, Deanna allowed her mind to relax and wander. She sensed Will's amusement about the captain. The first officer was currently on the bridge and waiting for Worf to take over the evening shift. The captain was at ease and in very good spirits. Picard's usual habit of guarding his emotions had been pushed slightly aside for the moment. Deanna guessed it had something to do with the ambassador. Will had mentioned the captain's muted affection for the Kildarian when they had beamed on board and perhaps that was why Will was amused and anxious to get off the bridge. The doors to the lounge slid open but Deanna did not look up. She sensed rather than saw the captain enter with the ambassador. She looked up from her tea, smiled, and watched the captain and the Kildarian approach her. The crew in the lounge was curious and a bit surprised since the captain rarely visited Ten Forward and the counselor finally saw the Kildarian delegate dressed in full ambassadorial robes. Deanna Troi did not like what she sensed. When Sar-Baugh-Ria had beamed aboard, Troi was immediately struck down with the equivalent of an empathic headache. Since then, she had felt a pressure, something she could only describe as a strong presence. It was not a matter that Deanna would bring to the captain's attention because she had felt the same strong emotions when Ambassador Sarek had been with them. She did not dismiss the feelings, only filed them in the back of her mind. Now that pressure was definitely stronger and more powerful that Deanna had experienced or had expected. She sensed a very controlled and powerful mind and almost a bit of duality as if there were two people in Sar-Baugh-Ria's mind. Deanna knew that she was possibly the first Betazoid to come in contact with the woman, perhaps the first person with developed mental skills to meet Kildarians. It could be part of their emotional make-up. Deanna narrowed it down to that choice. She sensed no hostility in the ambassador, only faint curiosity and definite affection towards the captain. All of her sensing and deducing had taken place in a few seconds as she watched the captain and his guest walk up to her table near the large window. Deanna stood up. "Sar-Baugh-Ria, this is Ship's Counselor Deanna Troi," Picard introduced. "Greetings to you, counselor," the ambassador stated and held out a well-manicured hand. "And also to you," Deanna replied and shook the Kildarian's hand. There was a surge of mental energy as the two women touched, a surge that caused Deanna to immediately stare into the ambassador's wide, hypnotic amethyst eyes. The empath became unnerved and she let go rather quickly. "If you will excuse me, captain, I have another appointment in my office." "By all means, Counselor," Picard said with a little curiosity. "It was nice meeting you, ambassador," Deanna nodded towards the Kildarian and she walked away from them. Deanna Troi was hardly the type to seek escape from a situation or a confrontation, but Sar-Baugh-Ria's presence did cause her to make an excuse to leave. She did not feel as if she was being blocked mentally, but as if she were being warned not to trespass further. The counselor was not one to pry into the inner thoughts of others and she prided herself on that aspect, therefore she had done the only thing that felt appropriate. She left. *** She had not lied to the captain about her appointment in her office. Deanna just didn't tell him who the patient was. Herself. She needed time to sort out the meeting between her and the ambassador, to find out if other telepaths or empaths had had a similar encounter with the Kildarians, and to do a little research about Sar-Baugh-Ria. The doors to her office automatically slid open as she approached. She came in and immediately started her detective work. "Computer, access all records containing information about the mental patterns of Kildarians and compare with known telepathic races." "There is no evidence of Kildarians possessing telepathic abilities," the computer responded. Deanna sat at her desk and accessed her terminal. There had to be something otherwise she would not have felt that surge. "Could they have latent abilities?" "There is a point zero three percent probability." She hit a dead end. The odds on the delegate being one of point zero three percent were astounding. *** Dinner between them was always quiet and Ria often wondered why humans seemed to eat all of the time. During the initial talks with the Federation six years ago, Ria had to attend banquet after banquet after banquet. She had never been able to figure it out until she had gotten access to Terran customs from the Enterprise's computer. She wondered if they realized that their need to dine so much was tied into old religious habits and rituals. Jean-Luc would be aware of such things (he always seemed to know so much) but never talked about it. Their discussions never involved his starship or science or politics or technology. It always seemed to be focused on literature and history. Ria glanced over the table that he had set, decorated with various objects such as candlesticks and silver utensils, and she recognized them from her studies. Romanticism, the computer had told her. She had laughed. Now, the plates had been pushed aside and Jean-Luc was leaning back in his chair, dressed in a V-necked dark blue tunic and black trousers, and holding a glass of red wine. He looked so relaxed and at peace, it was hard to believe that they were in the middle of a crisis. Jean-Luc smiled as he noticed her staring intently at him. "Do I pass?" he asked. "Pardon me?" "You were staring," he clarified. "I was asking if I passed inspection." She blushed slightly as her eyes fell to the table. "I did not mean to. Forgive me." "It's quite all right," he chuckled. Ria shifted in her chair and rearranged her robes for the countless time. She had to laugh at herself for staring at the captain so much, but he just fascinated her. She didn't know why, but he did. Here she was in full formal costume and he in casual attire. He had specifically mentioned the fact that this was a private dinner, but Ria had had no idea what to wear to a "private" dinner. She had spent so much time immersed in her duties as baugh that she rarely ever had the luxury of wearing civilian clothing. Now she was relaxed and enjoying the company of a delightful human. Jean-Luc made her feel comfortable with being Sar-Baugh-Ria and just being Ria. She had finally fallen into a place where she was at peace with herself. Ria couldn't really explain it. She knew if she left the comforts of home, her brothers and sisters would badger her with questions, but Ria knew that she must. She had found a place to fit in, a place where her efforts would be worthwhile, and she was accepted. That was what mattered. She gazed at the table for a few moments longer before deciding why she had been so fidgety this evening. Ria had come to dinner as her title, an ambassador, and not as an actual person. She wanted to spend the rest of the evening with him as herself. Simply as a Kildarian. She stood up, unclasped the ornamental pin at her throat, and placed it on the table. Her robes dropped around her feet. "They are bothersome sometimes," she explained. "I see." Ria felt free again. She was a person, not her job, and with this change in being, sat back down. She doubted Jean-Luc realized the significance of her removing her ambassadorial status, but maybe he did. She curled her legs underneath her and now focused on a tiny speck of lint that clung to her dark mustard colored blouse. Ria looked up at him. He was still holding the glass of wine and their conversation had stopped entirely. "I wanted to be more informal for you, Jean-Luc," she said. Jean-Luc Picard simply nodded as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. The intercom beeped loudly. Ria watched as the captain almost groaned aloud at the ill timing. "Captain to the bridge." The captain gave her an apologetic glance before replying, "I'm on my way." "I'm sure it is nothing. I will wait here so we may have dessert. I am told that chocolate is a `serious thing'," Ria told him as she stood up. He chuckled slightly and he left. *** Deanna tried a different approach. "Do they have a strong mental aura?" "Please restate the question." She sighed aloud as she thought of a way to rephrase the question. Another telepath could have understood what she meant by strong mental aura. Klingons, for instance, had a very highly disciplined mind stemming from their beliefs in honor and loyalty but they were not telepathic. "Do the Kildarians have trained mental disciplines?" "Five point two eight percent of the population belong to the Gael-taog religion. The doctrine requires each member of the congregation to focus their mental energy inward and. . ." "Computer, does Sar-Baugh-Ria belong to this religion?" "Negative." "What religion does she profess?" "None." "Do other Kildarian delegates belong to religious communities?" "Affirmative." It was possible that Sar-Baugh-Ria subscribed to the mental disciple of Gael-taog but was not an actual member. Deanna shook loose the feelings of frustration as she cleared her mind. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions about the Kildarians but she wanted to explain what had happened more to herself than to anyone else. She tried again. "Have Kildarians come in contact with other Betazoids?" "Negative." "Other telepaths?" "Negative." Think, Deanna, think, she told herself. There had to be something she was missing. It was as if a flash exploded in her mind when the next idea came to her. Maybe the energy was not mental but physical and only because she was empathic could she detect the surge. She remembered the Ornarans being able to emit an electric field and holding Will hostage with it. Will had described it as becoming one with a warp engine going at full speed. Deanna tried the theory, "Does Sar-Baugh-Ria have a. . .low electrical aura that would be undetectable to non-telepaths?" The computer paused before replying, "Affirmative." There it was, plain and simple. It was something that only she could have noticed. Deanna let out a deep breath. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!cam-news-feed1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-feed2.bbnplanet.com!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!howland.erols.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 5/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 21:59:42 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 255 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54h9qe$r2k@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 5 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sar-Baugh-Ria was not a nosy person, but the artifacts in Jean-Luc's cabin were so unusual, that she wondered the significance behind each of them. Then something caught her eye. A bookshelf filled with actual books. Something Ria never thought she would find on such a modern ship as the Enterprise. She walked over to it and began reading the titles: Ethics and Sophistry in the Alternate Universe, Ulysses, The Norton Anthology to Greek and Roman Literature. . .. There was one that did not have a title to it, one with well worn leather binding and a soft black leather cover and wedged between The Foundation Trilogy and Ovid. Ria picked it out and took it back to one of the chairs in the cabin near the viewport. Slowly opening the book and turning to the first page, Ria noticed something was definitely different. The pages were filled with dynamic script handwriting of quotes. No stories or pictures. Just lined pages crowded with sayings and snippets all written by hand and on the inside of the front cover were the words "Jean-Luc Picard February 29, 2324". She settled down and began reading. *** Wandering about the universe was quite enjoyable, especially when one wasn't constricted by the laws of physics or a space-time continuum, but it did have its down side. The days when there was nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. Oh, there was re-establishing the solar orbit of TN2231 after a comet passed too close to the planet and caused it to pull 3 degrees off its elliptical path or moving the Yvordor asteroid belt to someplace more useful (such as between two planets that without the natural barrier would be plunged into millennia of interplanetary wars), but it was routine work. Boring work. And it could be done some other time. Now it was time for some imagination. It was time to create a planet with a new type atmosphere, one that would baffle scientists for centuries as they tried to figure out how life could exist in such conditions. It would torment them and torment was something Q loved to inflict. The entity hovered over the dense mass of material that would serve as the core of the planet. This one had to be good. In fact, it had to be better than just good. He was tired of being compared to Q who created Flavinne or Q who created Rasd. Q wanted his creation to have pizzazz. Q flexed his mind like a human would crack their knuckles as he prepared to create. There was a bright flash and then he found himself surrounded by brilliant light blue flames set against the pure blackness of space. He had been summoned home. "My brothers and sisters!" Q called out as he changed into their chosen state. "What a pleasant surprise!" "Q," the eldest spoke and his voice reverberated through the blackness, "you have been called to us." Q paused. He wondered if they were angry about the Evealti or the Ormats. "Yes, brother?" "One of our sisters may give up her powers to remain among. . ..humans." There was a rather lengthy pause between among and humans. "And you want me to rescue our dear sister from such a dreadful mistake?" Q asked. "Yes." "Splendid. Simply splendid." Q couldn't wait. What a way to end an otherwise boring day. He couldn't wait to toy with the humans again because they were so much fun to aggravate. Perhaps his first stop would be to visit his dear, dear friend, The Captain. Surely Jean-Luc was waiting for his next visit. "Your experience with the humans will sway her from her wanderings." It was not expressed as a question but as a definite statement of things about to come. Q was not disturbed at all. "Oh, I will, brother. I will." *** When he returned to his quarters, Jean-Luc found Ria curled in his favorite chair and absorbed in a book. He didn't mind that she didn't look up when he came in, he figured that she just wanted to finish up a paragraph. "Why did you write down `Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:/The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,/Hath had elsewhere its setting,/And cometh from afar:/. . .At length the Man perceives it die away,/And fade into the light of common day.'?" Her question stopped him dead in his tracks near the dinner table and he turned to look at her. She held up the leather bound book for him to see and he recognized it immediately. His diary of quotes. Ria noted the surprised look on his face as she pointed to the shelf, "I found it there. Forgive me if I have intruded on your privacy." "There is no need to apologize," he assured her and then walked over to her. "I just wonder why you chose that book and not the others." "It is the only one that did not have a title." She looked at him again before returning her attention to the text, "You wrote that this is from `Ode: Intimations of Immortality' by WW." "William Wordsworth," he clarified and sat down. "I came across it during my days at the Academy but didn't actually write it down until later." "Do you wish to be immortal?" "No," he chuckled. "The poem is about the loss of innocence. The immortality comes from the timelessness of the Spirit of Nature, a favorite topic of the British Romantic poets. Wordsworth believed that God was Nature and children were unconsciously in touch with God. When they became adults, they lost that connection." "I do not understand why you wrote it down." "Because as we grow older, we lose that touch with Nature, or that's what Wordsworth believed. It is as if we lose the chance for spontaneity and inspiration," he explained. Suddenly Ria flipped to another section and read aloud, "`Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds depart/and come, for some uncertain moments lent./ Man were immortal, and omnipotent,/Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art,/Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart' Shelley's `Intellectual Beauty'." Again she looked up at him, her eyes full of questions and something else that Jean-Luc couldn't place. "Do you wish to be omnipotent?" Gently he reached over and closed the book in her hands. "It is more of a reminder that if one is omniscient, omnipotent, and immortal, than we lose our grasp on humanity and will become gods. We cannot be `inspired' all of the time." "Wouldn't that be a blessing?" "I have met those who are inspired all of the time, and they, indeed, have lost their humanity," he stated quietly. "If I had all that, there would be no reason to live. It is the challenge of humanity that gives me the desire to live." Ria sat in silence as she brought her eyes to his. There was something within them that drew his attention to her, that made him want to dive into their depths. Jean-Luc knew that the cliche about the eyes being windows to the soul was true in Ria's case because they were fathomless. She had a soul that could live forever. *** "I would like to beam down with the initial party." "Impossible." Sar-Baugh-Ria did not seem upset by the captain's statement but merely surprised at the tone. In the privacy of his conference room, she stood three chairs down from him and eyed him coolly. The others had left after the medical briefing but she had lingered to inform the captain of her request. "Jean-Luc, it is part of my assignment to watch over the distribution of the medicine." "And it is my job to ensure the safety of my crew and of my guests," he replied as he steepled his fingers in front of him. "As soon as Doctor Crusher quarantines the area, you may beam down." "I have been vaccinated against the virus. It was the main reason I was chosen for this task," she informed him and started to grow a bit annoyed. Was his protectiveness just for her or was it for all his crew as he had said? Ria could not make a judgement call on it. She waited for his next words. "I have not forgotten that, but there is the possibility of you contracting Metou." His words were matter-of-fact, unemotional, and without actually stating aloud that whatever other arguments she may have were futile. He had made up his mind and just allowing her to argue with him as a point of honor. "Then have me certified by Doctor Crusher as physically fit to travel down there," Ria retorted and crossed her arms. She was determined to win this one. Her "surrender" to Ren-Gellic-Faw still burned. "We will be arriving at the colony within the hour, Sar-Baugh- Ria." Again he used the tone of toleration, this time with a bit more of a bite to it as if warning her that she should stop. "Doctor Crusher will not have the time. . ." "A Starfleet medical examination which will determine whether I am able to contract or spread Metou requires seven minutes," she shot back. Her robes rustled around her. Jean-Luc looked up from his hands clearly surprised. Ria had triumphant glimmer in her eyes and she knew that she had a valid point. She was a skilled delegate and devil's advocate and Jean- Luc was not expecting the fire in her determination to beam down. He basically had two decisions--either he could allow her to beam down with the initial landing party or he could deny her. If he chose the latter, Ria would find a way to beam down without his permission because of her ambassador's status (ambassadors had a way with doing things like that). Either way, Ria would still be down there and he would have lost a degree of credibility. Jean-Luc Picard was unaccustomed to backing down from a decision, especially one like this. He would have to think about it. He still had forty-three minutes before they were in orbit around Haubrich and Sar-Baugh-Ria would never repeat their discussion outside of this conference lounge. "You will have my decision in thirty-three minutes," Jean-Luc told her and swivelled his chair to face the monitor behind him. He heard the doors open and close. *** "We will beam up a small group of colonists to make sure the vaccine is effective," Beverly Crusher explained as Sar-Baugh-Ria slid off of the examination table. "You said earlier that their cell structure was similar. Why is there a need for a test group?" she asked evenly and smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in her blouse and slacks. The doctor gave her a wane smile as she answered, "Because there is a possibility that the vaccine may have adverse side effects. It is an optional standard operating procedure, baugh." The Kildarian nodded as she moved to the same place where she had first observed Doctor Crusher in action a week ago. She had a feeling this initial beam up party was a result of Jean-Luc's orders and also his way of quietly asserting his authority. Jean- Luc would never say it openly nor would she, but Ria was amused by it more than angered. He had let Doctor Crusher perform an examination and Ria was certified as being fit for an away team more as a salve for an open wound than an actual precaution. Both knew it. The CMO called up to the bridge to initiate the transporter and then five colonists materialized on the floor of sickbay. The med teams rushed into action and each was placed on a bio-bed. Beverly Crusher had never seen the effects of Metou and wished she never had to encounter it again. Oozing lesions covered the faces, arms, and necks of the victims and the Haubrich medical team had theorized that because those parts were exposed to the elements, the virus had attacked the areas. Details on the virus were sketchy at best, just that it had something to do with a chemical reaction with ore and an inert gas, and it varied from colony to colony. She sighed inwardly, dug her hands into her pockets of her lab coat, and pulled out a scanner. All five people were showing the later stages of the virus including a foul smelling reddish gold puss glazing over the sores. What they were in danger of most was infection from another virus or bacteria. If one came into contact with the weakened immune system, then it immediately went into the blood stream. They were fighting time more than anything else. The quarantine fields were humming in place as the first dose of the vaccine was administered. Beverly and Doctor Marino stepped back and waited for it to take affect. The convulsions started. Shouts for sedatives and force-field restraints echoed in sickbay as the med teams frantically worked to lessen the side- effects of the vaccine. Beverly read over the bio-scanners for a clue as to why it was causing such a strong allergic reaction in the Haubrich colonists. There was none. Sar-Baugh-Ria sat silently in her corner. The call went up to the bridge and the captain acknowledged and advised he was on his way. Beverly ordered tissue samples, cultures, and blood tests. Slowly all five victims stopped shaking and sank into unconsciousness. The sedatives finally took effect. Beverly shook her head as she walked away to her desk and called up information on her terminal. Sar-Baugh-Ria politely followed her and sat down across from her. The doctor looked up and raised an eyebrow at the Kildarian, "As you can see, the vaccine is causing a violent reaction with the patients. We are attempting to diagnose the cause." Jean-Luc Picard strode across sickbay and into Beverly's office in time to hear her explain the situation to Ria. Standing by the door he asked, "Situation, doctor?" "After administering the vaccine, all five colonists had severe convulsions. They are resting now, but the vaccine isn't working for some reason, despite all the tests we ran on it earlier," she told him flatly and was clearly frustrated. "I see." "No, you don't see," she snapped back and stood up. "That strain of Metou has. . . mutated somehow. It will be days, weeks even, before we have a clue as to how and why. Then, possibly we can treat it." Picard paused before curtly replying, "I will be on the bridge, doctor. Please keep me informed." She watched as he left and Sar-Baugh-Ria followed after giving her a short nod. At least they knew when to leave a doctor alone with her work. Beverly began reviewing the previous cases and treatments. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!cam-news-feed1.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-feed2.bbnplanet.com!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!howland.erols.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 6/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 21:59:45 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 303 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54h9qh$r33@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 6 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ It wasn't as if he were actually hunting his sister down. He thought of it as paying a kind visit to his younger sibling. Oh, how foolish the young were sometimes! It wouldn't take much for Q to convince his sister to stay with The Continuum. He simply had to remind her of the unpleasantness of becoming human. Oh, those emotions! Oh, those morals! Oh, those dreadful colors! To Q, it was a simple task. He would relate his experience of becoming human, the humiliation he had to face because of these inferior beings. Perhaps he could even give her a taste of what it was like. But if she truly wished to become human as his brother had said, Q knew that the tactic would not work. Somehow, when one was reduced to mortality, one's judgement became clouded. Q could attest to that personally. He had almost sacrificed himself for the safety of other *human beings*. He, Q the all powerful, Q the all knowing, Q the ever present, had almost died all for the sake of a paltry one thousand mortal beings. Q took his time searching. Well, he wasn't exactly searching, merely wandering around and musing about the situation. He had only chosen the human form because he knew that Jean-Luc would be glad to see him. As for his sister, Q had no idea why she would want to throw off the mantle of immortality just so she could face a dull, dreary, and possibly very painful existence. Even Q's association with Vash had not shed a light on why an immortal being, considered gods in some areas where they had shown their power, would want to give up being the channel of the universe. He stopped by DG67I to correct the gravitational constant after a worm hole had deposited three moons into the star system. Those scientists will be furious when they find out that their probes had be wrong! Maybe he should place one in a close orbit to the systems second star and make it an environment suitable for humanoids. Then again, Q didn't want to have to patrol the universe and keep them from fighting each other. How barbaric! Q suddenly became conscious (as all powerful beings often do) of a shift in awareness in one particular quadrant of Federation space. "Dear sister," Q queried aloud, "whose poor, limited mind have you opened to the universe?" *** She had found it. After hours of staring at the computer terminal until it was a blur, the answer came clear to her as if she had opened a medical text to the correct page. In a way, she almost laughed at the simplicity of the explanation but could see why it had dumbfounded so many medical researchers. Their approach to the problem had been all wrong. The test results were inconclusive of course. The colonists' blood type or biological similarities had nothing to do with it. The reaction to the medication was natural because it was one virus strain attacking another strain using the human body as a battleground. Beverly Crusher let out a deep breath as she turned off the monitors and alerted the captain. She wanted him to be in sickbay while she explained. When he arrived (funny how Sar-Baugh-Ria seemed to always follow him), Beverly smiled and escorted them to her office. "It is so simple, I don't know why no one thought of it earlier," she told them and circled her desk. "Metou is a virus capable of multiple mutations but like all viruses, needs a fertile breeding ground for it to survive in. The reason why it attacks terraforming colonies is because of a combination of ore and normally inert gases providing a suitable environment." "So when the colonists are breaking ground and releasing all the natural elements. . ." Picard began. "The virus can develop. Normal biofilters wouldn't pick it up and that is the reason why the symptoms differ from case to case," Beverly was almost giddy with relief. "I've started the medical teams on preparing a vaccine based on the traces of ore found under one of the colonist's fingernails." "Congratulations, doctor," Picard offered. Sar-Baugh-Ria simply smiled a very pleased smile. *** "Jean-Luc, what is it like to travel the stars in a ship?" He glanced over at Ria standing at the portal in his cabin. She was dressed in a loose fitting blouse and slacks and had her arms folded across her chest. Her hair was unbound and framed her delicate features. The captain paused before he replied, "It's intoxicating at times." "I traveled from Kildarae to Thaemes on a ship and did not feel that euphoria," she stated flatly. "It depends on the ship, Ria. Why do you ask?" "I will deliver my report to Ren-Gellic-Faw by subspace. I am not returning to Kildarae." "May I ask why not?" "I do not belong there anymore. I have finished my duties there and wish to go on." She turned and faced him, her eyes darker in the dim cabin lights. "What is it like to face your mortality everyday?" Jean-Luc's eyebrows furrowed as he took a step closer to her, "We all face our mortality everyday." "But not like you do, not as your crew does in space. When you are out here," she gestured towards the portal, "you realize that your life may end with a simple, innocent accident." "Ria, anyone may die from a simple, innocent accident," he pointed out and silently wondered the reasons for all her questions. It was as if she knew his thoughts when she spoke, "I wish to remain in Federation space, but I do not know how." "You mean in what capacity, what position, correct?" "Yes, Jean-Luc. I don't know what I would do here." "The Federation could always use a skilled and seasoned delegate as yourself," he offered. "I realize that, but I don't necessarily want to be an ambassador and settling disputes." "I see." "I will find something to do, Jean-Luc. You don't have to worry about that," her voice became lower as Ria stood right in front of him. Her hands snaked around his neck as she pulled him closer. Their lips touched gently. *** "Hello, Data," Deanna said as she took her place next to the center seat on the bridge. Normally she wasn't on the bridge during Data's 0300 watch, but she found she couldn't sleep. The ambassador's presence affected her in more ways than one. She had become restless and irritable and had no desire to visit sickbay and talk to Beverly. The doctor was finally getting some much needed rest. "Hello, counselor," replied Data but did not move from his rigid posture in the command chair. He merely tilted his head sideways which signaled he was about to make an observation. Deanna was prepared to answer any queries her fellow officer had. "Usually you are in your quarters at this hour." "I know," she told him and turned slightly to face him, "But I found that I could not sleep." "Most of the crew find Ten-Forward lounge or the observation deck more relaxing than the bridge," he stated and looked over at her. "Yes, but not everyone has clearance for the bridge, Data. I just wanted to be here." Data had worked long and hard on his observations of human behavior and had often used his friends as a reference group. It didn't matter that his control group was, in fact, the senior officers of the Enterprise. He spent the most time with them outside of his duty shift, therefore, Geordi had assured him, they were friends. As far as humanoid nature went, they were the most diversified collection of examples available for study. For instance, whenever Geordi was uneasy, the chief engineer went to Ten-Forward to have a drink and occasionally talk to Guinan. Worf was more apt to retreat to the holodeck and run his calisthenics program. The captain stayed inside of his ready room or became Dixon Hill. Commander Riker. . .Data stopped. Counselor Troi's behavior was deviant from the norm and he had found in his studies that humanoids, sometimes wished for peace and isolation or for someone to listen to them. Judging from Counselor Troi's tone of voice, her posture, and what she had said, Data calculated that there was an eighty-three point four percent probability that Deanna wished to join in his watch in silence. Five minutes forty-two seconds later, Counselor Troi asked, "Data, what are your impressions of Sar-Baugh-Ria?" The android paused before replying, processing the question and correlating it with their previous verbal exchange. He also tried to make his answer relatively short so as not to be interrupted. Although he had no "emotions" only preferences, he discovered that he preferred not to be interrupted. "The Kildarian ambassador is skilled in her area of expertise. Although she served as an antagonist in the initial meetings between the Federation and her people, her reasoning helped avoid misunderstandings." "What about personally?" Data adjusted his posture to one of openness and curiosity. "She seems amicable and intelligent, although some people have expressed displeasure in her tendency to isolate herself from them. She does not readily answer questions about her people. Sar-Baugh- Ria does spend most of her time with the captain." He had experience with this type of question and answer setting before. Humans used it to "compare notes" as Geordi had said. He gave the proper inquiry after their exchange, "What are your impressions, counselor?" She took a deep breath as she said, "I sense almost duality in Sar-Baugh-Ria's personality, but that may be a characteristic of her people. Kildarians have a mental aura that surrounds them." That caught Data's attention, "It was not listed in the medical records, counselor." "Only telepaths or empaths can detect it," she clarified. "Interesting. Djera's reports list nothing about that trait," he told her. A chill went up Deanna's spine. Djera was a Vulcan and served as part of the Federations admissions committee. Something was definitely not right. "Perhaps I was wrong in my conclusions," she assured Data as she stood to leave. "That you for the conversation, Data. It was most informative." Data raised an eyebrow and returned his attention to the monitors. Humans could be so confusing at times. *** Could it be that the computer was wrong? Could it have overlooked Djera's report? Had she not been specific enough in her questions? That was the only conclusion Deanna could come up with, unless Sar-Baugh-Ria was different physically from her fellow Kildarians. Maybe Djera only came in contact with a certain portion of the Kildarian population, those that did not exhibit that characteristic. It was a possibility, but it all came back to one crucial answer the computer had given--it had said no other telepaths had come in contact with the Kildarians. How was she going to explain this to the captain? It was doubtful that Data would repeat their conversation on the bridge or even mention the fact that she was there to begin with during his 0300 watch. Now it was 0715 and the captain would be in his ready room reviewing paperwork or the Enterprise's next mission. She had to tell him. Deanna Troi made her way to the bridge. Standing before the ready room, she waited until she heard the command, "Come!" The doors slid open and Deanna walked up to the captain's desk. Jean-Luc Picard appeared to be buried behind stacks of information tablets and busy taking care of paperwork, but she knew his mind was on the ambassador. Was he using these props as a guard against unwanted questions? Knowing the captain and people's reaction to a captain doing "captain" things (or what they thought were "captain" things), Picard had effectively given off the message of not wanting to be disturbed by trivial matters. Deanna Troi knew that her business was not trivial. "May I discuss something with you?" she asked. Picard looked up and nodded and Deanna sat down across from him. "Captain, it is about the ambassador. . ." She had caught his attention and now it was completely focused on her, "Sir, I have the impression that Sar-Baugh-Ria is more than she seems, that perhaps she is hiding something." "We all have our secrets, counselor," he stated flatly. There was curiosity and a little indignance as if she were trespassing into forbidden territory, but they were overshadowed by his desire to be open minded. If there was one emotion that Jean-Luc Picard prided himself on, it was his objectivity. "It is not just that," she forged on. "I get a feeling of duality, as if the ambassador has two distinct personalities. One that she uses with us and her true nature." "We all have our masks, Deanna." He did not say it coldly or emit any anger, only with curiosity and wariness. Picard was reasoning with her, she recognized that right away, and trying to keep the counselor focused on her thoughts. "Sir, I realize that. There is something else. I asked the computer if any other telepaths have come in contact with the Kildarians and it replied no. It also said that Kildarians emit a low. . .electric aura that only telepaths are able to detect. The computer overlooked Djera's report," she told him. "Djera is a Vulcan and would have noticed such an aura." "If Djera had touched one, then she would have sensed it," the captain reminded her patiently. "The computer may have taken your question too literally. As you know, for a Vulcan to pick up on such nuances, it would require physical contact." Deanna wasn't mollified with the answer. Picard would never normally "explain away" a potential problem. There had been something there, something definitely there, that made her senses go on full alert. He had trusted her in the past, depended on her in the past, and now. . .. Was Picard blinded by. . .love? What could she say? What could she do? Her evidence was circumstantial and she also knew from her own experience that the computer could take the question literally, but how would it miss such a crucial and obvious fact? Deanna wasn't going to let this drop so easily. There was a moment of silence before Picard eased back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Computer," his voice startled Deanna as he looked at her for a moment then addressed the air, "do the Kildarians in general possess an . . .aura?" "Affirmative." "Does this `aura' vary from individual to individual?" "Affirmative." "Could Djera, in her reports, missed this aspect because of those different levels?" "There is a ninety-eight point three percent probability." "Does Sar-Baugh-Ria have a significantly stronger aura than others?" "There is no information currently available." "But theoretically, could she have a stronger aura than most?" "Affirmative." Picard smiled gently as he leaned forward at his desk. "Counselor, I would never dismiss your observations as trivial or unfounded," he said sincerely and there was a trace of sympathy in his voice. "You are able to touch upon a realm of awareness that we. . .that I. . .can only guess what it is like. To describe what your feel to a non-empath or non-telepath is difficult, to say the least, and convincing him or her of your. . ..understanding is even more so. I do believe in what you are saying." He paused for a moment to regard her calmly, "I will note it in the ship's log." Jean-Luc Picard had a way of making a person feel like all his or her arguing, research, theories, or whatever had not gone to waste, but quietly pointing out the details that one may have missed because of being too close to the problem. He was good at it, the years of being a captain had honed down the skills to a fine point, but Deanna wasn't satisfied. There was silence, mostly because Deanna had no clue as to what to say next. An apology? For what? Bringing a potential problem to his attention? What could she do now? "Thank you, captain, for your time." "It's quite all right, Deanna," he reassured her as he turned back to his monitor. His voice caused her to stop as she approached the door to leave, "Sometimes even our best intentions tend to become near-sighted." *** Oh, it was brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! He couldn't wait to visit! She had set it up so perfectly! And she didn't even realize it! Perhaps he shouldn't come down too hard on his sister. She, after all, was only trying to smooth over the edges and outwit a half-Betazoid without making it too obvious. His sister hadn't the foresight to take precautions against the counselor sensing her duplicity, but he had managed to save the day by providing that dull hunk of primitive machinery information and get his sister "off the hook." For now. Now Q had more important things to consider. Should he appeared right after the counselor and show the captain the error of his ways? Should he point out that love indeed did blind the great Jean-Luc Picard and lull him into a sense of false security? Should he appear now or later on? (Q fondly remembered Jean-Luc's indignance at being disturbed in his private quarters.) Or should he merely force his sister to use her power? Decisions decisions decisions. There were so many to make and Q had to choose the precise moment for the most dramatic effect. Jean-Luc loved a good drama and Q could not disappoint him! He would have to make it appear as if he were right on cue. Or maybe not. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!news-feed.iguide.com!news.uoregon.edu!hunter.premier.net!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!howland.erols.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02.news.aol.com!n From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 7/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 21:59:47 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 400 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54h9qj$r34@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 7 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "So, how long have you had these headaches?" "Since Sar-Baugh-Ria arrived," replied Deanna as she watched Beverly set down the scanner. Sickbay was almost deserted and only three patients lay on the bio beds furthest from them. The recovery time from the virus was remarkable, only seven hours from the initial treatment, and Beverly was being hailed a medical genius. The doctors on Haubrich had assured the Enterprise that if there were any complications, then they would be alerted immediately. After three days, it had been silent. The tension on the Enterprise had lessened considerably. Now all the counselor had to deal with was the ambassador's aura. "Well, there is a slight elevation of tension in the cerebellum and cerebral cortex," Crusher told her matter of factly, "but I really can't do much for it. I could give you a sedative for it, but it will impair your abilities." "I've got six more appointments today, Beverly," the counselor reassured her. "I can survive." The doctor let out a deep sigh as she leaned against the table. "I wish I could be more of a help." "You have been. At least I know the cause of my headache. The further away from her I am, the less intense they are," she shook her head slightly. "It seems that everything is focused around the ambassador," Beverly commented absently. "Her position demands it," responded Troi. "It may also have something to do with the time she spends with the captain." "From the rumors I've heard, she's two steps behind him and always on the bridge when he is," the doctor mused. "That's why I haven't been there. I really can't been in the same room with her," Deanna lowered her voice. "I have only been on the bridge once since she arrived." "You're one up on me," Beverly returned wryly. "You've been swamped with medical cases," she shot back lightly. "Speaking of which, I noticed that sick bay is noticeably less crowded." The CMO smiled as she ushered Deanna into her private office and sat behind her desk. "Most of the colonists have been beamed back to Haubrich. The more serious cases are being taken to Starbase 79 for detailed study. I never thought I would seen the end of them, Deanna! Every time I turned around, another colonist had Metou." "At least you discovered how to treat them," the counselor told her. "That's the funny thing about all this. I was staring at the medical screen when it suddenly dawned on me what to do. Totally out of left field!" "Left field?" "An old baseball term Wes used to use. It means it came out of nowhere," Beverly explained. "Anyway, it was as if I touched pure chaos and suddenly had the answer. I have no idea what inspired me to check under the fingernails of the colonist for an ore sample! The thought was just there." "You're saying that you've never been inspired before?" Deanna asked with just a hint of bemusement. "Deanna, you know what I am talking about," the CMO sounded almost exasperated because of it. "I've had the light bulb go off in my head before, but never like this." "It's just a logical leap, Beverly, and part of being human. Data would be jealous." "He would be busy trying to analyze what caused it." "Like you're doing right now?" "Point taken, counselor," Beverly looked closer at her friend. Troi's usual calmness and serenity had deteriorated over the days that Sar-Baugh-Ria had been on board and the doctor was noticing it for the first time. It was the first time the CMO hadn't been elbow deep in Metou patients. "Don't worry," Deanna walked towards the door. "I've had the same kind of inspiration as well." "Oh?" "I found out more about Kildarians than I ever wanted to know," replied the counselor before she exited. Beverly furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out exactly what Deanna had meant by that last remark. *** He savored that quiet moment, Ria's gentle breathing and the softness of her hair as it fanned out across his chest and the pillows on his bed. She slept so peacefully, so gently, as if nothing in the universe could disturb her. Jean-Luc breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. The week had gone well, all the colonists had been successfully treated with the new vaccine and the Enterprise was en route to Starbase 73. Ria was scheduled to depart when they arrived in two days and Jean-Luc was going to miss her presence. All in all, the senior bridge staff had stayed out of his affairs and had not once mentioned the fact that Sar-Baugh-Ria was spending more time with the captain that any other delegate had. Ria's habit of being two steps behind him and also using her prerogative as ambassador to sit on the bridge (for some reason) did not cause any crew member to bat an eye. Except for the ship's counselor. His discussion with Deanna still bothered him even after three days and he wondered what in heaven's name had possessed him to query the computer about Sar-Baugh-Ria's "aura." Jean-Luc had mentioned it to the delegate and Ria had responded with curiosity. He had showed her the computer's findings and her rapt attention about it made him conclude that she was not aware of this trait among the Kildarians. Although he did not promise Deanna any type of action except to note the characteristic in the ship's log, Picard submitted a query to Starfleet Medical and also to the Federation's Admissions Committee about the "slight oversight" on their part. Deanna had not mentioned their meeting again and he noticed that the counselor was rarely on the bridge nowadays. Did Sar- Baugh-Ria's presence unnerve her? Perhaps her avoidance of the bridge was similar to Geordi's aversion to large crowds--all the minds and images together were too difficult to sort out and gave one whopper of a headache. Ria's "aura" could project strongly enough that Deanna couldn't be in close proximity of the delegate. Tam Elbrum, whose telepathic abilities were incredibly strong yet he had no true way of filtering the mental barrages out, had chosen to be with Data during his visit on the Enterprise. Maybe Deanna was opting for the same strategy. Jean-Luc let another slow breath out and he listened to the contented humming of his ship. There were times that life seemed so peaceful, so serene. "Fancy meeting you here!" Picard's eyes snapped open and both he and Ria bolted upright. Q's smiling human form was standing at the foot of Jean-Luc's bed and wearing the uniform and rank of a Starfleet captain. Picard grabbed for his robe on the nightstand and practically dove into it, as if the flimsy material could actually protect him from an onslaught by Q. Ria didn't both with clothing as she indignantly got out of bed and stood up, crossing her arms and staring at Q angrily. "What the devil do you want, Q?" Jean-Luc demanded. "Oh, I was just passing through the galaxy and thought I would stop by for a visit," he replied with that damned mocking grin of his. Picard rose, slowly took five paces towards Q, and stood one meter from the entity. "You're not happy to see me, captain? Well, I hope that my sister has better manners than you do." He tilted his head towards the very naked Ria. "Enjoying yourself, sister?" It took less that three seconds for Jean-Luc to realize three things: one, that Q referring to Ria as "sister" could only mean one thing; two, that he in fact had not one but two Qs in his quarters at the same time; and three, Deanna had been right. But how could Ria be a Q? She hardly acted the self-centered, idiotic child that the Q he was accustomed to dealing with was. Jean-Luc remembered Q's warning at their last encounter, that a woman would be his downfall, and he now found himself in a humiliating circumstance that he would never normally find himself in. How had he fallen for it? "How dare you!" Ria sharply snapped as she now approached her brother. "I am sorry to intrude on your interlude. I'm sure it was quite pleasurable," Q snickered as he backed up three steps and gave an appreciative glance over Ria's nakedness. "I think I would prefer you in form of a Lyeldaian feline, now those are marvelous beings, rather than humanoid." She said nothing but simply stared at him for a few moments. The captain finally gathered in all the edges of his ragged fury as he quietly asked, "You're. . .a Q?" His voice was cold and detached as his eyes hardened. Ria turned to face him and encountered only an icy demeanor. She could explain. It was all so simple. Her brother was just an idiot. "Jean-Luc, I am part of the Continuum but. . ." "Get off my ship!" the captain's clipped tones reflected his frigid outrage. "But Jean-Luc. . ." she almost pleaded. "I said get off my ship!" There was no emotion at all in his voice, the years of training and of experience of being a starship captain clicked in as he spat out each word of his order. He would not give either one the satisfaction of his humiliation. Ria's head dropped down as if she were a chastised child. She would have given up all her immense power and knowledge to become one of his kind because of what he had taught her. It would have been so simple. She could have given up her powers and joined him in his journey through the stars. She would have changed her appearance. . .changed the galaxy if he had asked, but now. . .Jean-Luc Picard was as frozen and as distant as the edge of the universe. "As you wish, Jean-Luc," she replied and disappeared with a flash. There was utter silence for the next two seconds, Jean-Luc slowly counting as he took controlled breaths. "You were much to hard on her, Picard," Q told him flatly as the entity walked to the bed and sat on the edge. "I meant the both of you," he snapped. Q regarded him with a quirked eyebrow and a frowned slightly, "She is young, Picard, and new in her power. You must understand. She still thinks she can change the universe with kindness." "The Q are nothing but self-serving and irresponsible!" Jean- Luc stated coldly. "Self-serving? Irresponsible? My sister has been called many things, but self-serving and irresponsible are not two of them." Q could needle him, could attempt to anger him, could try to really get a good rage out of Picard but decided not to. "You know, Jean- Luc, Q actually moved the entire Kildarian star system so it could be within Federation reach? It would have taken you eons to discover those Kildarians and by that time, you would have been in the middle of a plague. Imagine that! A Q with a moral conscious!" Picard was steadfastly silent. Q went on, "I would hardly call that self-serving. And as for irresponsible? If Q had been irresponsible, she would have let those colonists suffer and die because of the medicine. Instead she chose to inspire your lovely doctor and make sure that all lived happily ever after." "Leave," the captain's voice was on the edge of malevolence. He was not about to believe that Q had tampered with Beverly's mind and giving her the solution to the virus. "Now, captain. I know what you're thinking. How could Q inspire such lowly life forms as humans? Well. . .." "I have had enough! I have had enough of your silly, little games. I have had enough of your beratement," Picard pointed a finger at Q as he stormed closer to the entity. "You have humbled us on more that one occasion. Are you not satisfied?" "No. Not yet, anyway," Q replied nonchalantly. "The game is over, Q. The lesson is finished," Jean-Luc snarled. "I will play no more." "It was never *my* intention," Q grinned wickedly, "to have you learn a lesson." With that, the entity flashed out of existence. Humiliation barely scratched the surface of what Jean-Luc felt. His inner most self, the self that defined who Jean-Luc Picard was, had been barraged with millions of photon torpedoes and he, Jean-Luc Picard, had given the order to lower the shields! How blind could he have been? How stupid and. . .. He paced around his quarters knowing very well that Q probably thought this to be extremely amusing, but he didn't care. His soul, *his soul*, had been shattered. . .all for the love of a woman. Or what he thought was a woman. To think he actually had relations with. . .a Q! Mon Dieu! His crew! He would be the laughing stock of Starfleet! The great Jean-Luc who had bested the Ferengi on several occasions, who had beaten Romulans, who had defeated the Borg, to be brought down peg by peg, little by little, by an entity who loathed humans. He had been mentally violated by the Borg, but he had not been willing and he fought every second with every ounce of himself to prevent what the Borg were attempting to do to him. He had won that battle. But this, this burned much worse. He had allowed himself to be. . .led in to the slaughter. His body was tense with anger, boiling with the humiliation, and he found that he could no longer pace around his quarters. He had no desire to visit the holodeck. Picard dressed quickly and made his way to his only refuge on the ship. His ready room. Of course, the night watch bridge crew were curious as to why their captain was storming into his ready room at 0430 hours without even a look to the burly Klingon. Worf, for his part, was scowling and trying to figure out what had called the captain to the bridge when there was no immediate danger. Then, something occurred to Worf. The way Picard's fists were clenched tightly at his sides and the way Picard held his shoulders stiffly squared as if at attention all fit together and formed the missing piece of the puzzle. Things had not gone well with the ambassador. *** There, there is was. Anger, betrayal, and fury all wrapped up into a tightly confined area. Deanna pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to stop the pressure. Something was wrong with the captain. Nothing serious. He was definitely worried and very upset, but it feel within the normal range of emotions. She could go and ask what was wrong but her head pounded too much for her to leave the comfortable chair in her quarters. It all surrounded the Kildarian. From this distance, all Deanna could guess was that they had a fight. She could call Beverly about the headache and get something for it, but she knew that there was really nothing the doctor could do about it. The source was still here. Suddenly, the captain's emotion changed to one of cool and calculated calmness. His shields had gone firmly in place. Deanna sighed aloud. She would definitely talk to him once the ambassador left. *** The chime rang. The chime rang again. The chime rang for the third time. If he didn't answer the door soon, Worf would probably have a security team standing by ready to blast whatever was holding the captain hostage. Jean-Luc Picard doubted hand phasers had any affect on humiliation. "Come!" He snapped it harsher than he intended. The Earl Gray tea had grown cold sitting on his desk and he hadn't bothered to dispose of it. He had placed information boards around his desk to give the appearance that he was doing something productive, not brooding over events that had happened at 0430 hours this morning. The worst thing he had to deal with was telling the crew that there were Qs on board. Not one, but two Qs. They had every right to know. It was his duty as a captain to inform them. The entities were a potential threat. . .no, they *were* a threat to his ship and crew and Picard had to tell them. Either he could explain the situation or Q could. Jean-Luc had to swallow his dignity and tell them. Riker was saying something to the captain and Picard had not been paying attention, only staring at his monitor filled with gibberish from engineering. "Sir?" The words snapped Picard out of his daze and he looked up at the frowning features of Will Riker. Being a first officer meant knowing the commanding officer very well, being able to read moods with a glance, and being able to know when to broach a subject and when not to. Clearly, Picard was. . .Will couldn't quite describe the emotion. He wasn't about the ask a cosmically stupid question like "Are you all right?" to the captain. Whatever business he had been reporting before somehow escaped to the corners of his mind and Will was left stumbling for words. "Yes, Number One?" The tone was on the borders of disapproving and gave off the clear message of "state your business and get out." The reason of his visit suddenly clicked in Will's mind. "Will there be a farewell dinner, sir?" The first officer had seen a number of Picard's moods and been on the receiving end of more than one nasty glance. This one made Pluto seem a summer resort as Picard's eyes icily narrowed. "I'll take care of it," Picard snapped. "Aye, sir." Beating a hasty retreat was something Will Riker was unaccustomed to, but at least he knew when he should retreat. The ready room doors closed behind him and the warmth of the bridge enrobed him. He was in solitude again. "Jean-Luc?" It was as if the seven lords of Hell had combined into one entity's voice and she was standing where Riker had been. "What is it, Q?" the captain demanded as his body stiffened. "May I stay on board your ship until we reach Starbase 73?" He hurled a scathing glance at her. "You're asking my permission?" "It is your ship. I was simply expressing a desire remain on board," her voice was gentle and soothing, a direct contrast to Picard's anger. "Why? To torment me more?" "No, that is Q's obsession. Mine is merely to offer you the opportunity to `save face'." "Save face? Save face?" His incredulous tone echoed in the room. "You have done nothing but badger us about your superiority and how you have overcome these `frail human concepts' such as honor and dignity. Now you are worried about how I will look to my crew?" "Yes, I am." "Why?" Ria paused, surprised at the vehemence in his voice. Clearly she had misunderstood the human tendency to over react to things. She was being logical in her offer but he was being illogical. She had to give him a reason. One that he would accept. Would he accept the truth? "Captain, unlike my brother, I do not `bully' people or play games with them. I am curious about you. I wanted to know you better. So I did. It was never my intention to have my brother visit or shame you." He stared silently at her. "Captain, I wish to stay on board your ship until we dock at Starbase 73. There I will leave. I swear that my brother will not interfere with your ship's operations." Ria's head bent down slightly. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Please." He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. Ria turned and walked out the door. The bridge had just changed for day duty. Riker had left briefly to verify something in Transporter Room One. And Worf, who was on his second duty watch but this time at tactical, furrowed his eyebrows trying to figure out just how Sar-Baugh-Ria managed to get into the captain's ready room without him seeing her. *** "Oh, come now, Picard!" Startled, Jean-Luc's back went ram-rod straight as the Q he was familiar with circled about his ready room casually. "What now, Q?" "She asked nicely, which is more than I would have ever done," Q told him and swooped down into the chair across from the captain. "I would have said, `I'm staying.' No, she asked, she *begged*," he said the last word slowly, dragging through both syllables, "to be with you. Can you not, in your heart of hearts," he clutched his hands together over his chest, striking a dramatic pose, "allow her to stay on board to be close to her beloved captain?" "That is enough, Q," Picard stood up and Q did the same. "No, it is not. You see, for all your preaching about respecting other life forms, you simply have no respect for the Q," the entity sneered. "You accused me of being judgmental in our first encounter because I was ready to condemn the entire human species for crimes committed in their past. And now, look at yourself. Condemning us because of the same things. What say you, *hypocrite*?" The last word was spat out with malice as Q put a foot on the chair and leaned over Picard's desk. "We have had time to change, to mature. Those `crimes' as you call them were `committed' over four hundr. . ." Picard began but suddenly found himself silenced. His vocal chords were frozen in place as he angrily glared at Q. "Oh, yes yes yes. Time to mature. Time to grow better. Time to evolve," the entity waved his hand in a dismissing gesture. There was a bright flash and Picard's uniform was covered by black robes and his head covered by an old British Parliament white wig. "But are you not judging an entire race by one entity's actions?" The question hung in the air as Q pushed off of the chair and began circling again. The captain suddenly had use of his voice again but was silenced by the profoundness of the question. Mon Dieu, Q was right. No matter what justification, no matter what line of reasoning Picard could take, no matter what rationalization his mind threw at him, it all boiled down to that one question. Was he not already the judge and jury to a race that he had only encountered one representative of? Jean-Luc Picard was not a man who was easily stunned speechless but now here he was, stumped by that one question. Quickly he ripped off the wig and threw it down, as if it were a gauntlet. "You have won, Q." The entity stopped and turned to the captain. He tilted his head sideways and then came closer to the captain. "Admitting defeat? What a curious strategy! I would have never thought the great Jean-Luc Picard would ever admit defeat." "A wise man knows when he has lost the battle." "Ah, yes. A human proverb. How touching." Q smiled but then suddenly became serious. "But what have I won, Jean-Luc? What is to be my reward?" The captain's face grew dark. Q waved away the robes. "It seems my sister has already taken the prize." With that, Q flashed out of the ready room. Jean-Luc slowly sank back down in his chair. "Oh, what fools these mortals be!" came the disembodied voice of Q. The captain's head fell into his hands as he began counting to ten. He had given Q exactly what Q always wanted. A reaction. He didn't know which Q wanted what, but the Q that he always dealt with lived for Jean-Luc's reactions. The captain was tired of it. He was going to do something that neither Q would expect. He was going to allow Ria to stay on board his ship. Not that he really had any choice in the matter, but he was going to give his verbal permission. Not to soothe his ego, not to save face, not so he would have to disclaim the events in the past few weeks, but because he needed to give this Q a chance. To see if the Q were really all alike. He had always prided himself on his open-mindedness. Now it was time to test his resolve. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III "Right on Q" Part 8 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Number One, report to my ready room at your convenience." The precise and crisp tones slightly echoed on the silent bridge. Day watch, for Will Riker, was always easier than night watch because the people seemed friendlier, more talkative. Today, it was as if the entire bridge crew was emulating the captain's moodiness. The captain had not stepped out of his ready room in the past four hours since the change over, but there was definitely a depressed feeling going around. Deanna hadn't even shown up yet. Data was sitting straight-backed in his chair, an unusual sight since the android usually copied human body movements. Lt. Ellerby was sitting straight as well. Worf was gripping the rails of his tactical station. Will Riker was definitely not at ease. "On my way, sir," he replied. He stood up and could feel the attention of the bridge focus on him. It was not because he was standing up or because he was the first officer. It was because he was entering the proverbial lion's den. He rang the came and heard the command to come in. Riker stepped into the captain's ready room and walked up to the captain's desk. "Yes, sir?" Picard waited. Will counted to ten before the captain looked up from his steepled fingers and motioned for him to sit down. The first officer did. The captain took a deep breath before picking a minuscule point on his desk and completely focusing on it. "Qs are on board." "Q? What does he want, now?" Will asked as he almost stood up. The look from Picard told him to hold his position. He did. There was a long sigh from the captain. "Qs, Will, as in more than one." Both Riker's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "More than one?" "Two to be precise." "I'll alert. . .." The words died in his throat as he caught the look in the captain's eye. "One of the Qs is the one we are accustomed to dealing with," he stated quietly. "The other?" Will prompted. "Has been on board this vessel for quite a while." Riker's forehead wrinkled as he thought for a moment, trying to imagine the crew roster for the last change three months ago. Who would a Q chose to be? If the second one was anything like "their" Q, then he would be a high ranking official. But no high ranking official had been on board in months. Except for. . ."Sar- Baugh-Ria?" He had muttered it under his breath, not intentionally aloud, but Picard had heard it. The captain slowly nodded affirmative. Will Riker's notorious poker face failed. The first officer's jaw hung open like a shuttle bay. It flapped a couple of times before Will could finally get out, "The ambassador?" "Yes." Will sat there in a state of shock. The captain? Sleeping with a Q? The whole crew knew of the captain's new interest but had kept it suspiciously quiet out of respect. Could Riker imagine what they could say when they found out? It was a kind of respect that could never be gained back again. Was there a way out? "Why?" "She wanted to. . .observe us." Observe observe observe, Will's mind kept repeating. Picard didn't have to tell him about this. He didn't have to at all. Instead Picard chose to inform him. Was he making his first officer make the big decision? Whether or not to tell the crew about a most definite danger? Was the ball in his court? Observe observe observe. "She hasn't interfered with ship's operations." "Correct." What had they done about Barclay? "How long does she want to stay on board?" "Until we reach starbase." "But she hasn't caused any trouble." The look Picard shot him was almost murderous. "To the rest of the crew," Will weakly amended. "No." "Ah." They sat in silence. The captain commented, "She wished to finish her observations and go elsewhere." He paused. "I have decided to allow her to remain on board. She promised me that her `brother' would not cause any trouble." "Sir. . .." Riker began. "Q taught me a lesson, Will. We have been judging them because of him," Picard told him. The old Terran proverb about being burned once popped into the first officer's mind but he decided to not say it aloud. The captain went on, "If we carried on with our prejudices, we will be no better than our ancestors being bias against a group of people because of what country they were from. Sar-Baugh-Ria has been only curious and has done what we normally would do in a similar situation. She has blended in and observed our society." Riker let out a deep breath. "Then we shouldn't inform the rest of the crew." "If the situation becomes dangerous, then I will." He returned his gaze to his steepled fingers. "Will, I don't like doing this." "I understand, sir." Riker wondered how the captain could say so calm and rational during this whole thing. Then he realized that Picard had been debating this all morning before he was called in. It made sense. The captain wanted to keep the damage minimal and wanted Q to continue on her mission. Riker guessed one of the reasons was because she hadn't been anything like her "brother." Will was thankful for that small blessing. "Thank you, Number One." *** Deanna looked up at Skua as he nervously told her about the disaster that had happened in engineering. He had dropped a deuterium control conduit twice and almost took out the warp drive because of it. Geordi, out of pure frustration, had harshly recommended that Tomas vacate engineering and see her, hoping that she would be able to "cure" him. Skua's head was bent down as he stared at his hands and boots. "Deanna. . .God! How could I be so stupid? I thought I had this all straightened out! And now I almost blow up the Enterprise!" She was half-listening as her attention suddenly swung to the change in Will's mood. From slightly depressed and curious to down right nervous and in shock. She could have been sensing Skua's nervousness but knew Will's signature emotions all to well. She had to get through this case before she talked to the captain and Will. "We all make mistakes," she told him quietly. "Yeah, but you never almost took out the warp drive," he snapped as his head fell into his hands. "There was a young man whose experiment destroyed part of the computer core processor," she confided. Deanna remembered Wesley Crusher's notorious experiment all too well. "I bet LaForge never chewed him out," he said bitterly. "No, but I believe the captain had many words with him." "He got shipped off next opportunity, right? "No, he helped Commander LaForge make the necessary repairs and stayed on board for another year and a half." "So what I did today was `within normal parameters'?" he asked sarcastically. "No, but it is understandable," Deanna leaned back again. The captain was becoming quickly agitated again. She needed to find out just what was going on. "You try too hard, Tomas. Take it easy for a while. Don't go tripping over yourself to impress Commander LaForge." That brought Skua's eyes directly to her and the shock on his face evident. He wasn't expecting to "discover" the roots of his problems today. "I. . .I. . .How did you know?" "I believe that you already knew. Just because I am a Betazoid doesn't mean I know everything that goes on inside of you," she told him bluntly. "I can only tell you what you already know." "Oh." "So take is easy down in engineering. I'm sure Commander LaForge will calm down after a day or two. He always did before," Deanna reassured him. "Uh. . .thanks, Deanna," Tomas said uneasily as he stood up. "Um. . .I guess I'll be back in two days. . .. Oh. . .and office is a lot nicer that the ones I had to deal with when I was a kid," he stammered out before quickly leaving. Perhaps she had been to harsh with him towards the end of the session but the captain and Will's emotional states were not exactly stable. No matter who she was counseling, the commanding officers came first in her book, always. Suddenly, her head started to throb again. Frustrated even more, she leaned back and tried her mind exercises again. She couldn't even sit up again. The tension was too much for her. *** "Don't you want to know how dear Beverly was able to discover the solution? How she had the `sudden' inspiration to check under the colonists fingernails? I really like that last part. It adds a touch of class to the whole thing!" "No, Q, I do not wish to hear you gloat," replied Picard coldly as he punched another set of codes into the console. He had sent Will out over an hour ago and now Q had returned. He was tired of the whole situation. He just wanted this damned thing to be over with. "Or how about how she changed the Kildarians' genetic make-up to include that wonderful aura Deanna kept sensing?" "No, Q, I do not wish to hear you gloat," repeated Picard. Q let out a loud sigh of disappointment as he stretched out on the couch. "I thought it was really clever of Q to come up with those. It does show a superior imagination, but then again, everything the Q does is superior." "Q, I do not wish to hear you gloat." "Come now, Jean-Luc! You sound like a computer loop!" There was a pause. "You wondered why you suddenly asked the computer about her, didn't you? You tried to figure out what gave you the inspiration to ask, what made you use the computer to disprove the counselor's theory. She is so subtle about those things! She may be young, but she certainly has style!" Picard entered another set of computer codes. "You are interfering *my* ship's operations, Q." "I am? I am merely reclining on your couch, out of the way! I'm not bothering that bore, the engineer, nor am I sitting next to Worf on the bridge and teaching him two syllable words," Q stated cheerfully. "You are interfering with my ship's operations," Picard emphasized. "I am simply explaining what Q had done on your ship, for you logs, Jean-Luc! I was only trying to. . ." With a bright flash, Q disappeared in mid-sentence. A small smile spread across Jean-Luc's lips. The satisfaction he received from that was immeasurable. Q had held true to her word. *** She was so quiet and polite, sitting in Deanna's usual chair, and the bridge crew had hardly batted an eye when the turbolift doors parted and she walked down the ramp to the command center. Out of habit, Will Riker had stood up and acknowledged her presence with a formal nod. She had returned it before sitting down forty- three minutes fifty-eight seconds ago. It wasn't as if Will Riker was actually counting the milliseconds more than him checking the time to see how long it took for a major catastrophe to strike. Sar-Baugh-Ria sat silently in the seat. The captain, according to the ship's computer, had been in his ready room for five hours seventeen minutes straight before returning to the bridge. He had also stood up and nodded towards the ambassador when she came onto the bridge. Riker knew that the environmental controls for the bridge were set at a comfortable temperature but he felt like he was on top Mount McKinley during a blizzard. The bridge crew hardly spoke to each other. Picard stared at the monitor and occasionally checked the readouts from the chair's panels. Sar-Bar-Ria stared at the monitor. Will tried not to stare at anything and appear at ease. What he wanted to know why Q had done what she had done. He knew that the Q could manipulate anything to suit their needs (he had experience in that department) and he knew that they could expand their consciousness to know everything (that was one thing he didn't try). If that were the case, then the Q really didn't need to be here "experiencing" humans, but why did this Q choose to become a Kildarian and "experience" the captain? He raised his eyebrows in his silent musings and glanced over at the poised entity. Did Q know that he knew that she was a Q? He didn't realize how confusing and frustrating one letter in the alphabet could be. Perhaps the captain was right. Perhaps they were judging the "book by its cover". Well, the first five chapters in Riker's opinion. "Incoming message from Starbase 73," Worf announced breaking the silence on the bridge. "On main viewer," ordered the captain. Immediately Admiral Marks appeared on the screen. "Good afternoon, captain. The freighter Otes is transporting unstable cargo to the Cygna Epsilon system and is requesting assistance in hauling it," Marks told him. His delivery was swift and impatient, as if Jean-Luc expected anything less of a Zaldan. "The Enterprise is the closest vessel. The coordinates are being sent over now. We've sent a shuttle to pick up the Kildarian delegate. Marks out." "Very matter of fact," muttered Riker and his eyebrows raised again as he looked directly at the placid Q. She nodded slightly and returned her gaze to the main viewer. "Ensign Mateo, set course to intercept the shuttle. Mr. Data, time to intercept?" asked Picard. "At current speed, twenty-two minutes, thirty seven seconds," answered the android. "Engage," the captain stated. He had a feeling he knew what the Qs were up to as he stood up. "Baugh, it seems your time with us has been cut short." Riker was impressed by Picard's diplomatic tone. "I understand, captain, and I thank you for hospitality," replied Sar-Baugh-Ria as she rose from her chair and gave a small nod to Picard. Her robes rustles slightly and was the only sound on the bridge. "I would like to beam on board the shuttle. It will save time." "As you wish," said the captain. She bent her head slightly to Will, "Commander." "Baugh," returned Riker. She seemed to glide away and up to the turbolift. The entire bridge crew seemed to be focused on her as she left and then suddenly to Picard once the turbolift doors slid shut. Will bet that they were wondering what kind of good bye the ambassador would get. If Worf knew her true nature, he would have her shot out of a torpedo tube. A small smile crossed his face as he imagined the Klingon stuffing a Q into a casing. The crew were still giving surreptitious glaces at Picard as the captain sat back down. Will joined him but didn't look at the captain. That would be too obvious and the crew was waiting for him to do it. For Picard to say something, anything, about the departure of the ambassador. The captain kept his mouth firmly set. After five minutes, their attention had gone back to their stations and Will relaxed. Ten minutes went by. Fifteen minutes went by. Will was becoming antsy again. "I'll be in Transporter Room One," stated Picard flatly and then left the bridge. With the captain safely in the turbolift, Riker heard a muffled, "I told you he would say good-bye to her. He just didn't want to be obvious about it." *** Sar-Baugh-Ria only had one small piece of luggage with her as she stood by the transporting platform. O'Brien gave her a slight smile and she returned it pleasantly. Picard then strode through the parting doors. Clearly, the ambassador was surprised. O'Brien wasn't. He knew the captain had class and wouldn't just transport her without seeing her off. He was waiting for the captain's order. "I wish you well in your travels, baugh," said Picard. The ambassador nodded warmly, "And also to you, captain." O'Brien looked down at the readouts and reported, "The shuttle is within range, sir. The pilot is ready." One look from the captain and the transporter chief vacated his spot and went out into the hallway. After all, it was only polite. "Curious," she observed as she stepped on the transporter pad and watched the doors close. "He left us alone." "To say `good bye', Q," replied Jean-Luc. "Not all Qs are obnoxious, captain," she told him quietly. "I thank you for allowing me to stay on board." "And I thank you for keeping to your word," he stated. She gave a radiant smile, "I would have given all up for you, Jean-Luc. You taught me well." It was the first time she had used his "true name" after he had found out she was a Q. There was a brilliant flash and then the transporter was activated. Picard reasoned it was more for the ship's logs than anything else and he silently mused if a Q could be transported at all. "There, there, Jean-Luc," came the grating voice of the Q that Picard knew all too well. "As your Shakespeare would say, `Parting is such sweet sor. . .." The entity's voice was cut off and Picard chuckled to himself. Q had claimed that Ria was his younger sister, but it seemed to Picard as if she were his mother keeping his hands from the cookie jar. As the doors opened and he ushered O'Brien back his post, Jean-Luc wondered why she decided to impart that final message to him. He guessed it was a backward compliment. He hoped it was. *** Guinan was serenely waiting at the bar when Picard walked in. Ten-Forward was deserted this early in the morning, but it was as if Guinan sensed he was going to come here. Already she had a drink poured for him and sitting on the bar. He approached and took the glass. Picard had realized a few things after Ria had left, a few things that unsettled him. One of them was about Guinan. "You knew, didn't you?" "Pardon me?" she asked, feigning surprise at the question. "You knew about Ria." She gave a slight smile and shook her head, "Yes." "Why didn't you inform me?" Jean-Luc wasn't angry more than perturbed about that fact. "She was a potential threat. . .." "She didn't harm anyone, did she?" "That is not the point, Guinan," the captain told her. "Yes, it is. Captain, I told you before that some of the Q are quite respectable. You just met one," she reminded him. "She observed you, just like you observe other people. . .." "I know that, Guinan. That is why only Will knows about her true nature," he almost snapped. The hostess placed both palms on the counter as she gave him a really hard look, "She didn't mean to embarrass you. She was only curious, like yourself." "I know." "If she were to have done something, if her actions had been threatening, then I would have warned you," she stated clearly. "You know I would have done that." "Yes." He looked closer at Guinan remembered that not once during Ria's visit had the hostess become agitated like she normally did when Q was around. He had to believe her. And there was no point in trying to correct something that had already happened. He sighed aloud. "She did keep Q in line," commented Guinan and then she left. He sighed aloud again. *** "Captain?" "Yes, Deanna," the captain stood up from the portal window in the conference lounge and motioned to a chair. He knew this was coming, "Please, sit down." "Thank you," she replied and focused her attention totally on him, filtering out most of the crew, except for Will. "May we talk?" "I was wondering how long it was going to take you," he commented. "I have had a heavy case load, especially with one of the engineering staff," she replied. "Skua?" "Yes, sir." "I've read the reports on him. Geordi describes him as a nervous wreck." "He is. But that's not why I am here," she firmly stated. "I sensed distress in you this morning." "I found out a few things about the ambassador that were not too comforting," he replied matter of factly. "Such as?" she prompted. "I can't break a confidence," he state flatly, but she could tell he was not particularly happy about it. Whatever "confidence" he had with the Kildarian, it disturbed him. Will knew. She knew that Will knew but also knew that Will wouldn't tell her. If the captain was being this cagey about it, then she knew that he wasn't going to tell her. "I'm sorry, Deanna. She did make me angry but she also made me realize that we humans have a tendency to judge things by their outer appearances." Troi raised a delicate eyebrow at him. He was coming out of "left field" as Beverly would say. What was all this about judgement? What did the Kildarian say that agitated him so much? "You were right, Deanna, about her having a dual nature. There was a part of her that was more powerful than I realized. I should have listened more closely," he admitted. What was going on? She had no clue as to what to say. "Perhaps our next encounter will prove more fruitful," he mused as he turned toward the windows. "I wish I could say more." "I understand," she replied although she really didn't. She knew that was the end of the conversation right there. *** "You really miss him, don't you?" Q had changed appearances from shuttle pilot to his "normal" human form. Ria was in her Kildarian form and both were sitting in a mock-up of a Federation shuttle headed toward Starbase 79. They had three hours to go before they reached the base. "You could never wait to return, could you?" "That's not the point, Q." "You were angry because the Continuum would only let you visit once per Terran year." "That is just a formality, Q. It gives me time to cook up something really good when I visit. Did I tell you what happened last time?" "You showed us, Q. You had that human with you for a long while. Where is she now?" "Oh, on her vacation. Some of that carnal recreation that humans need." "You should try it sometime, Q. It is very good. But not with Jean-Luc. Try someone else." "And reduce myself to mortal things?" "It humbled you last time, Q." "I remember. Why did you want to become one? It is dreadful! You hurt, you have to sleep, you have to eat, and. . .." "You live as a mortal and things are more important to you than as an immortal. You respect things more. Or don't you remember?" "No, I don't." "Yes, you do or you wouldn't have tried to sacrifice yourself to the Calamarain." "My mind was clouded by mortality, dear sister!" "No, you realized something about yourself that you don't like to admit. There is a little compassion in you." "Hah!" "Then why did you re-establish the orbit of that one moon?" "As a favor. That's all. I really don't know why you insist on finding motives for everything that I do." "Because there are motives, my brother." She looked at him really hard, as if seeing him for the first time. "When you are a human mortal, you are given a certain amount of time to make something of yourself. You have this drive to achieve something, a goal of some sorts, and to obtain a higher sense of being. You have to work for everything that you have, that you strive for. And when you finally reach that pinnacle, you have a feeling of accomplishment. It is not easy being human and the rewards are not always there, but you strive for yourself, not for others." There was dead silence for three minutes before Q shuffled his feet a little. He hated when one of his brothers and sisters went off on human concepts. He, after all, had made the first contact with the dreadful little beasts. "I was in a shuttle similar to this. I still don't know why you created that diversion." For the first time the entire trip, Q pouted. "And this hideous shuttle! I had to change my appearance! How could they know it was me? I didn't even appear on their monitor, Q!" "I promised Jean-Luc." She wasn't bothered by his silence or his uneasiness about humans. Something had changed him ever so slightly, and Ria could tell. Why else would he take on a human "partner" to travel through space? "You're not going to let it end at the starbase, are you?" the human Q asked. "Why not?" "Well, if you are so concerned about Jean-Luc, then you should end it all right now. Have an accident so you can never come back as Sar-Baugh-Ria! Besides, what possessed you to chose that name?" "It means `All Most Powerful' in Poi." "You've got class, dear sister. Definitely class. Now let's end this now." There was a long pause. "I guess you're right." "Of course I'm right!" he chided. "I'm omniscient, aren't I?" +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Path: news2.delphi.com!delphi.com!news-feed.iguide.com!news.uoregon.edu!hammer.uoregon.edu!hunter.premier.net!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!cs.utexas.edu!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!uunet!in2.uu.net!newstf01.news.aol.com!newsbf02 From: tdrummonds@aol.com (TDrummonds) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Right on Q" Part 9/9 (TNG) PG Date: 21 Oct 1996 22:10:46 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 162 Sender: root@newsbf02.news.aol.com Message-ID: <54haf6$rmc@newsbf02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf02.mail.aol.com X-Newsreader: AOL Offline Reader STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION "Right on Q" Part 9 of 9 by Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com) See Part 1 for all disclaimers ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ The bridge was calm and back to its normal friendliness. Picard was calm. Will was relaxed. Beverly was relieved. Worf was ready for battle. Deanna reveled in the fact that she was back on the bridge again without the pounding headache. The transfer of cargo was going fine and in its final stages. Beverly had just come from sickbay to report that her patients were fully recovered and all the tests were completed. The three colonists were happy to stay on the Enterprise for this diversion. "Captain, we're loading the last of the shipment on now," called Geordi from Cargo Bay 7. "Sir, there is an incoming message from Starbase 79," Worf reported. Surprised Picard looked as his first officer and then to the viewer. "On main." The screen blinked from the Otes to the troubled features of Admiral Marks. "What can I do for you, admiral?" "Captain Picard," he said without preamble, "the shuttle that was carrying Sar-Baugh-Ria experienced engine trouble at 1321 hours and was destroyed." There were sharp intakes of breath on the bridge as everyone focused on Picard for a reaction. "Do you know what caused the trouble?" "Faulty stardrive. I have no idea how that shuttle got out of maintenance when it did," Marks stated flatly. "Ren-Gellic-Faw said that you and the ambassador had a close friendship." "We did," replied Picard uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, captain." "Thank you, admiral." He was surprised with the Zaldan's words. They usually considered courtesy (perhaps sorrow) as a phony form of social behavior. "Marks out." The channel closed and there was a shuffling as the crew returned their attention to their posts. Picard knew that they wanted him to say something, anything about it. He didn't know quite what to say. Usually when the death of a crewman or an ambassador that had spent some time on the Enterprise came, Picard's reaction was one of sadness and of slight anger as to why it happened. Deanna wasn't sensing any of those emotions except for relief. Why relief? What had happened? Even Will was not feeling any remorse. She watched as Picard left for his ready room. Will took center seat. Deanna got up and followed the captain in. It was what the crew was expecting. "Captain?" "Sit down, Deanna." His voice was tired and he had his back to her. She took her seat and was confused. "Sar-Baugh-Ria was a Q." The words hung in the air for moments upon moments before Deanna could say anything. "The Q?" "No, Deanna not the Q, a Q. Not the one that we are used to dealing with, but he was here as well," he clarified. "She manipulated the events so that this would happen. So that I would never have to deal with the person of Sar-Baugh-Ria again." "She told you this?" "No, but I can guess what happened," he told her as he turned around. "Deanna, I feel like a fool for it as well." She didn't know what to say. "Only Will knows. The reason that this Q was here was to observe us. She came in our form and wanted to know more about us." "Like we do for a first contact situation," Deanna suggested when her brain finally decided to work. "Yes. Exactly. When her brother, the Q that we are familiar with, showed up, it broke her cover. Q actually taught me something useful," Picard admitted as he sat across from her. "Which one?" "Q not Ria." "Oh." There were too many Qs for her to keep tract of. "Anyway, Q made a valid point. We were judging the Continuum by just one of their race," he explained. "And not all of them are like our Q," she filled in. "Yes." Picard looked hard at her, "I did not want to damage her cover, Deanna." She smiled. "Not for yourself, but for the Q?" "Something like that," he replied. "Thank you, captain. I was worried when you felt no remorse." "The Q are immortal, as they have so often reminded us," he commented. "Ria said something to me before she left. She said that she would have given it all up because of me. I don't like that feeling." "That just means you made a good impression, captain." "That's what I am afraid of." *** "He doesn't regret your death," Q stated flatly as they hovered over the planet that Q had been working on before he was interrupted with this whole mess. "Because Jean-Luc knows what we did," she replied as she reclined. "He is a very intelligent man. You could take lessons from him." "He's too stuffy." "Because you didn't know how to approach him. And don't you dare now! You've used your yearly turn already," she warned. Q's eyes flashed dangerously, "I will ask for another time. This was not my turn. I was sent on a rescue mission. Besides, I really didn't torment him at all. I was very good." "I had to pull you out of there when you started to annoy him." "And ruined all my fun! I was just explaining your wonderful ways of changing things so that it would all have a happy ending. The fingernails were a nice touch," he complimented. "So I heard. I only wanted to become mortal for a few years. Travel as they do, to understand them more. Picard knows that there are more Qs that just you." "And Riker and Troi." "He didn't have a choice." "I didn't give him one. But just wait until next time. I'm planning it already." She laughed. "As long as you promise not to do anything to terrible." "I promise," he said reluctantly. *** Ten-Forward was not crowded that evening. The Otes cargo was in Cargo Bay 7 and secure and the Metou patients were cured. Beverly and Deanna were sitting near the windows and staring out of them, each with a steaming cup of tea. "How do you feel?" "Like the weight has just been taken off of me," Deanna replied. "It all had to do with the ambassador." "Well, the medical readouts back you up on it, counselor," Beverly replied. "And how do you feel?" "I'm relaxing. I'm more worried about Jean-Luc and the death of the ambassador." "Without breaking any confidences, he is taking it very well." "Curious." "That's what I thought. And when I talked to him about it, he politely said that it was none of my business," she confided. "Not that it is, but being a counselor has certain privileges." "Like being able to maneuver the captain into shore leave?" "You did it this time," Troi laughed. "On the first try." "Maybe if we work hard enough, we can eliminate his fear of going on vacation." "Don't bet on it." *** He stared at the vastness of space from his room. "What is it like to face your mortality everyday?" she had asked. "We all face our mortality everyday," he had replied. "But not like you do, not as your crew does in space. When you are out here, you realize that your life may end with one simple, innocent accident." Her words echoed in his mind. She was right. Their lives were so frail in space, one wrong calculation could scatter their molecules all over the quadrant, yet she expressed a desire to become one of them. Not as a punishment, but of her own free will. He took another long sip of coffee. He had grown tired of the Earl Gray in the past few days. She was out there, somewhere, and Picard missed her. He never thought he would ever miss a Q. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Finis +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ************************************************************************** ************* Terrie Drummonds "But I'm in AGONY!!!" Prince George TDrummonds@aol.com "That's love for you." Edmund Blackadder Black Adder III