From jenfun@cci.net.au Sat Oct 04 20:46:04 1997
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From: "JFunnell" <jenfun@cci.net.au>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: REPOST: "The Test Of Times", [TNG], PG, 1/?
Date: 5 Oct 1997 03:46:04 GMT
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I don't own any of these characters. Paramount does. And because they're
the big Trek kid on the block, you have to be nice and say so whenever you
want to borrow their characters. (Actually, it's not so bad. Without them,
there would be no Trek at all, so I am truly quite grateful to them.)

Comments, constructive criticism and suggestions gladly welcomed at
jenfun@cci.net.au
Flames sent to a temporal vortex and forgotten about instantly.
Happy Trekking!!


THE TEST OF TIMES.

Picard entered the bridge feeling remarkably irritable. His sleep had been
broken, his dreams distressing and confusing, for no reason he could guess.
When he had finally awoken, a persistant, nagging feeling that something
was very, very wrong plagued at him, and he was almost relieved when Riker
had called him from the bridge saying that there was a problem with the
sensors. The trouble had chosen to present itself, and now he could begin
to deal with it. It was the beginning of the solution.
So why did he still feel so edgy?
From the look of his bridge crew, each of them had suffered a similar
unpleasant night's sleep. Somewhere in the back of his head, he realised
that that was very strange, and might be important, but he quickly brought
himself mentally back to the bridge. Figure it out later; just get the
facts now. 
"Number One, report," he demanded curtly.
Will Riker's reply was equally short and sharp. "We've been tracking
spurious sensor ghosts for the past eleven minutes. They've been appearing
and disappearing. Unfortunately, we don't know what they could possibly be
ghost images *of*. We know for certain it's not us, but there's nothing
else in this sector of space to account for them. It's not anything out of
phase with us, either."
"Data, your theories?" snapped Picard irritably. Nobody bothered to look in
the direction of  Ops. Data would report anything important, they all knew.
"Really, mon capitane," drawled a dreaded yet familiar voice from the Ops
console. "I'm sure Data would be thrilled to give you eighteen little
theories and the probability of each of them being correct if he were here,
but since he's *not* here it's a tad pointless asking, now, isn't it?"
"Q," Picard groaned inwardly. Just what he needed on top of everything.
"Where is Data? Return him at once."
"Oh, Jean-Luc, always so kind. Always so welcoming. Always ready to make me
feel as if this is my home away from home." Worf's hands flexed
involuntarily. 
"Q," Picard roared.
"Oh, very well. As for Data, he's not on the bridge, and you should feel
very lucky that he isn't."
"What are you talking about, Q?" Riker demanded. He didn't like this. Not
at all.
"Well, his jokes are shocking for a start. Did you know that his most
recent study in comedy is "The Addams Family"? You know, the "They're
creepy and they're kooky" kind? Awful. Just terrible."
The grimness in Picard's voice would have frozen a supernova as he said
"Return Commander Data to the ship at once."
Q could not have been more unaffected. "Sorry, mon capitane. Entirely
impossible. Au revoir." He prepared to snap his fingers, his typical
gesture while leaving in a blaze of light and sound.
"Wait." Q paused mid-snap, and looked expectantly at the captain.
Picard sighed. He could see that Q was apparently determined to be
difficult. A little voice in the back of his mind that had not had a lot of
sleep muttered *Were you expecting otherwise?* He realised that he was
going to have to be nice to Q in order to get Data back.
This was *not* going to be easy.
"Q," he said as civilly as possible, "I would very much like it if you
returned Data. Preferably right here on the bridge. Preferably now."
*Preferably in one piece.*
"Why Jean-Luc, how polite. How civil. How cultured. How completely and
utterly impossible. Sorry." 
"Enough games, Q," thundered Riker. "Bring Data back. You have no right to
kidnap any member of this crew."
"KIDnap?" Q was the picture of innocence. Eyes wide, he stared at Riker and
tilted his head in a Data-ish gesture. "I've kidnapped none of your
precious crew, Riker. And the reason that it's impossible for me to return
Data is really quite simple. I never took him. At this very moment, Data is
in his quarters. You can check if you don't believe me."
Riker didn't. "Computer, locate Commander Data."
"Lieutenant Commander Data is in his personal quarters."
The bridge crew looked at one another, stunned. To say that it was not like
Data to be late for his bridge shift was the understatement of the
millenium. He had never been voluntarily late during his entire time on the
Enterprise.
Picard hit his communicator. "Picard to Data."
There was a pause and then, "Data here, sir."
"Commander, your duty shift began forty-seven minutes ago! Report to the
bridge at once!"
"As you wish, sir."
Instantly, there was a blinding flash of light and Data appeared on the
bridge, standing next to his console, uniform slightly askew, his fingers
obviously in a position of having just been snapped. He looked around,
noted his surrroundings, and nodded with satisfaction as he tugged his
shirt back into position. His attention switched to Picard. "You rang,
sir?"
"See? I told you so. Absolutely horrible." 
"Data," LaForge yelled, "please tell me you didn't just do what I thought I
just saw you do."
"Straighten my shirt?" asked Data, puzzled.
"NO!" yelped the entire bridge crew in unison.
"You came here just like Q!" Riker hollered. "He's given you the power of
the Q! Give it back, Data! It's too dangerous-- believe me, I know!"
Data raised his eyebrows and turned to Q. "I was under the impression, Q,
that you were going to explain all the relevent points of the situation to
the crew."  
"Wellllll," Q drawled, "you see, I was going to, but then Jean-Luc was so
upset at the thought of me leaving your component parts floating bit by bit
through the cosmos, I just had to cave in and tell him where you were,
instead."
"Data," Picard thundered, "I want to know what precisely is going on here.
Immediately!"
"Sir, as much as I would prefer to tell you, I am afraid that at this time
it is impossible." *I'm getting rather sick of that word,* Jean-Luc thought
sourly.
"I must leave now," Data continued. "Q shall provide an explanation.
Farewell." And with a snap of his fingers, Data was gone. Inexplicably,
though, a second clicking sound was heard just after he left, like an echo
of the first.
After a few moments of gaping in astonishment at the place where Data had
been standing, all eyes-- and one VISOR-- swivelled to Q, who was still
lounging nonchalantly in Data's usual chair, his forearm resting on the
chair back, his chin on his wrist, an enormously irritating grin on his
face. 
Picard took a deep breath, trying to stem his rising anger before
continuing his interrogation of Q. But before he had suitably toned down
the first thing that had come to mind, he suddenly found his hands cradling
cool, delicate porcelain.
"Cup of tea, mon capitane?"

TO BE CONTINUED....... 

-- 
Trek Long and Write about it,       :-)
Jenny
jenfun@hotmail.com

From jenfun@cci.net.au Sat Oct 04 20:47:28 1997
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From: "JFunnell" <jenfun@cci.net.au>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW: "The Test Of Times", [TNG], PG, 2/?
Date: 5 Oct 1997 03:47:28 GMT
Organization: Customer of Access One Pty Ltd, Melbourne, Australia
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For disclaimers see part one.
All types of feedback (except flames)welcome at 
jenfun@cci.net.au

Happy Trekking!

THE TEST OF TIMES

Picard controlled his urge to throw the cup and saucer at Q. Losing his
temper would not help. He forced his voice to be calm.
"Q, Data promised us an explanation. I think now would be an excellent time
for you to provide it."
"But don't you want your tea?"
"No!"
"Oh, well." With the snap of a finger, the cup of tea disappeared. "You'd
best sit, actually-- this is going to be, well, rather interesting." 
The next instant, Picard, Riker, Geordi, Worf and Troi were all sitting in
their customary seats in the conference lounge, along with a very confused
Beverly.
"What on earth? I was just in Sickbay..." her voice trailed off and her
face twisted into a scowl as she saw Q.
"Everybody comfy?" Q blithely asked, oblivious to the looks he was
receiving from the bridge crew. Worf's lip curled in irritated rage. Here
was a being who had had endangered the ship or its crew countless times, a
being who had threatened his captain-- a being against whom he could do
absolutely nothing. When it came to Q, he was helpless, both as a warrior
and as a security chief, and he loathed the fact.
"If you have something worth saying, then say it and begone!" he snarled.
"Oh Microbrain, so cranky today. What's wrong? Alexander been refusing to
keep his room filthy again?"
Worf half came out of his chair in rage. Instantly, Geordi and Deanna each
placed a warning hand on each of his arms, and he reluctantly sat.
"Well, to get down to business. You wanted an explanation about Data?"
"Yes, Q," said Picard, in a sardonically polite tone. "I do so very much
want an explanation."
"The brief one or the full uncut version?"
"A few details would be very helpful," Geordi muttered sarcastically
through clenched teeth.
"Very well. Does everyone have a vague knowledge of Vulcan mythology?" Nods
were seen around the table. "Good. Then you may have some idea of what's
going on-- except for Worf of course."
"What does Vulcan mythology have to do with you giving Data the power of
the Q?" demanded Riker.
"Well, he'll need them for the task that lies ahead of him. First, he'll
have to pass the test of transport and get to the Continuum with minimal
help from anybody. Then the full assessment of his applicablilty to the
task will commence. After that, well, onward and upward! Victory or defeat,
failure or success. Then, after that, he'll probably get sent back here."
"Probably?" asked Troi angrily. 
Q shrugged. "Then again, he might not. It depends on the results, and on
what the Continuum decides."
"What task has he been given, Q?" asked Picard, trying to keep on top of a
situation he had a nasty suspicion was already beyond his control.  
"Oh, nothing big, nothing important, nothing you need concern yourselves
about, really..."
"Q!"
"Oh, very well. He's an advocate for humanity in the trial against them. In
fact, he's one of the major advocates, so you'd better hope that he does a
good job."
"What!" thundered Picard.
"I told you." And suddenly the room seemed ten degrees colder. "When I
first studied you in person, I told you that humanity was on trial by the
Continuum for being a dangerous, savage child race."
"We passed that test!" protested Riker.
"And you thought that the whole trial would consist of just that one test,
Riker? Oh, and to think I once thought you had such potential. Yes, your
crew passed one paltry little test. That was merely the preliminary stage.
In truth, we highly doubted you'd fail that test-- so much so, that I was
told to urge you in the wrong direction to see if that would convince you
to choose it, because we were reasonably sure you wouldn't otherwise. In
fact, that was more a test of how you would react to the knowledge of the Q
than anything else. If you were that savage, you wouldn't have made it off
the shores of your tiny planet. So we weren't really that interested in the
results of that. It has reasonably little significance in the trial."
"What exactly does this role of advocacy involve, Q?" Picard asked, with a
queasy feeling. Something was not right. Q was avoiding the true spirit of
their questions and trying to change the subject. What was he keeping from
them?
Q sighed. Trust Jean-Luc to come to the core of the matter. "Oh, the
Continuum searches your mind and sifts out anything they think is
significant or useful as evidence, no matter how indirectly it's related to
the topic in question. There's no secrets, no possibility of false
testimony in a Q cross-examination."
"What about an individual's right to privacy?" protested Beverly
indignantly.
"This has not been forced on Data, if that's what you mean." *And it is. I
know what you're thinking, mortal. I'm omnipotent, remember?* "I explained
the situation to Data and told him I'd suggested him to the Continuum. He
accepted. His choice."
"If the whole point of having an advocate is to get a template of the mind,
and the subject of the trial is humanity, then why not choose a human
advocate? Why Data?" asked Geordi. *I've got a very bad feeling about this*
he thought uneasily.
"The criteria for a successful advocate are much higher than you might
think.First, the advocate must have had a great deal of first-hand
experince with the topic in question. Data has lived amongst humans for
thirty-two years. Despite that, total objectivty is required, or as near as
possible. If Data cannot amass enough evidence to satisfy them, he will
have to stand aside and allow the Continuum to pass it's judgement. A human
advocate, of couse, would do no such thing, plus they would be incapable of
being impartial. Most advocates have been either Q or Vulcan partly for
that reason. Third, the advocate must have exceptionally strong and stable
mental health. Having every member of the Continuum Board of Decision in
your mind at once, going through the very essence of who you are in the
process, is very distressing to most non-Q beings. Actually, we've rarely
dared to use any non-Q life forms for that reason, and it's the other
reason any who aren't Q are usually Vulcan. I recommended Data as the best
choice on all three counts, and the Continuum decided to give him a chance.
Once his suitability as an advocate has been decided, he will either be
rejected or permitted to proceed. If so, the testimony begins straightaway.
It's actually passed into legend from the few mortal advocates who
survived." Everyone stiffened, thinking *SURVIVED??!!* "The Vulcans refer
to it as the Test of Times."
The crew were furious. "You talked Data into taking the Test of Times?"
barked Riker. Everyone had heard of the Test of Times. A legend buried deep
in Vulcan history, it told of people snatched suddenly from their lives and
subjected to horrific and total mental bombardment. Even kolinaru masters
had failed the Test of Times and had died or been driven mad. Graphic tales
abounded, one of the mildest of which involved a Vulcan man who had
committed suicide by setting fire to his clothes rather than remember his
Test. The demented ravings of those who had survived had induced such
intense images of agony that they gave their carers nightmares. The Test of
Times was universally feared, but there had been no known case for over a
hundred and forty years. The source of the Test had been a complete
mystery, until now.
"Oh, please don't fuss, Riker. You must get rid of that beard-- it's made
you so stolid and predictable. I'm quite confident that Data will pass his
testimony with flying colours. And if he doesn't, then none of you will be
around to worry about it. Most of you have either fully or partly human
parentage, and Microbrain would be dead if not for the kindness of a human.
Charity to dumb animals, and so on-- one of your good features, I find. So
either way, there's not a lot of point in any of you worrying about it, now
is it? And now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see an android about an
omnipotent court case. So long." And he disappeared in a snap of light.
Everyone looked at each other silently for a moment, no-one knowing quite
what to say. Finally the captain broke the silence. "Number One, Mister
Worf, return to your stations." They nodded. "Mister LaForge, Doctor,
prepare yourselves in case Data comes back to us physically damaged.
Counsellor, you make your preparations as well. There's no telling what
condition Data's body and mind will be in when he returns." *IF he
returns.*
"In the meantime, we will simply have to wait. Dismissed." They all rose
from their chairs, and two minutes later, the conference room was empty.

TO BE CONTINUED....

-- 
Trek Long and Write about it,       :-)
Jenny
jenfun@hotmail.com

From jenfun@cci.net.au Tue Oct 07 05:23:49 1997
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From: "JFunnell" <jenfun@cci.net.au>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.q
Subject: NEW: "The Test of Times", TNG, PG, 3/4
Date: 7 Oct 1997 12:23:49 GMT
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THE TEST OF TIMES.

For all disclaimers see part one.

Feedback of all types appreciated at 
jenfun@cci.net.au

Happy Trekking!

**********************************************************

Data appeared in an area that seemed composed of pure light. He looked
around, and saw nobody, nothing that indicated to him where he was. He
listened, but could hear nothing. "Hello?" he called out uncertainly.
Perhaps he had failed to reach the Q Continuum, after all.
[No, you have reached our home. You are the nominated advocate for the race
known as humanity.] It was a statement, not a question, from a voice that
sounded vaguely feminine to Data. Yet his aural sensors reported hearing
absolutely nothing. Interesting. 
Data spun, but could see nothing and no one aside from the bright light
which was almost overloading even his visual sensors. "Yes, that is
correct. I am named Data, from the starship Enterprise."
[We know who you are, Data of the Enterprise.]
"I understand you, but I cannot see or hear you. Why is this?"
[It is law. We do not show ourselves to anyone who has not yet proven
themselves worty of advocacy.]
"How do I prove this?"
[Your answers and your thoughts will prove you.]
"What are the questions?"
[Your questioner will arrive momentarily. He is still in your plane of
existance at present.]
"Are you referring to the Q with whom I am familiar?"
"Yes, they are, my professor of the humanities. Hello, there. Long time, no
see."
Data turned his head at the insolently cheerful tone, and saw Q, dressed in
a white gown of no specific design.
"It has been precisely five minutes, thirty nine point seven seconds since
I last encountered you, according to my internal chronometer."
Q shrugged. "Time as mortals know it means nothing in the Continuum. By the
standards of the Enterprise, you've been gone for over twenty-six hours. It
may take years before you leave the Continuum. On the other hand, you could
be back in three minutes. It depends entirely on the Board of Decision."
Data sighed imperceptibly. The idea of spending years in the Continuum was
not one he particularly relished. "Q, I would prefer to be returned to the
Enterprise as soon as possible."
"The questioning is about to begin. Prepare yourself."
Q paused, and Data waited for the question.
"Data, who are you?"
Data hesitated, caught off guard by the simple, matter of fact tone of Q's
voice, which belied the elegant complexity of the question. So many
possible answers, and they could all be wrong...
*I am an android... No, that answer is not appropriate. That description
also applies to Lore, and who Lore is and who I am are two very different
people.
At least, I hope so.
I am a Starfleet officer... no. Wrong again, and for the same reason.
Commander Maddox is also a member of Starfleet, and he and I are not alike,
let alone the same person.
I am...*
And suddenly Data appreciated the true essence of Q's question. The
Continuum did not want him to tell them /what/ he was, but /who/ he was.
*Who am I?* Data asked himself. And there was only one answer.
He looked at Q. "My name is Data," he replied evenly. "As for the rest, I
do not know exactly who I am. I do not believe I will ever know who I am."
Q nodded, a slight smile on his face. And from somewhere he still could not
locate with any of his sensors, a voice whispered [We approve of that
answer.]
"Well done, Data," said the Q he knew. "You've passed your questioning and
are now an official advocate, summa cum laude, etcetera, etcetera,
etcetera."
"The questioning consists of only one question?" asked Data, with a raised
eyebrow. He could not help but wonder at that.
[Only one is needed. By such a reply, you have revealed yourself to be, by
mortal standards, wise and humble. Such maturity of the soul is rare in a
mortal, and such mortals have been the only acceptable advocates.]
"If I may ask, are you one or many?"
[We are many on the Board of Decision. Only a few are allowed no say in the
actions of the Continuum, such as those who are still relatively children,
or those whose past behaviour have cast doubt on their trustworthiness.]
Data nodded, filing this away. The Federation knew so little of the Q, that
this piece of sociological information might be very important. He
considered it ironic that the Continuum apparently had a democratic system
similar in some respects to that of the race they were planning to judge
and destroy.
[Your presence is unacceptable here.] Data turned in surprise. If they did
not wish him here, why select an advocate? Then he realised that they were
addressing the Q he knew, who was still in human form. [You are not a
member of the Board of Decision. You must leave now, for the beginning of
the cross-examination is imminent.]
Data raised his eyebrows again. Interesting. So Q had been barred from the
decision-making process of the Continuum due to either his 'age' or his
behaviour. Data suspected the second possibility.
[As you wish.] Q replied in the manner of his fellows. Then he turned to
Data, and spoke aloud. "Well, you're on your own. Have fun." He lowered his
voice. "I read your thoughts a few moments ago. I swear, if you ever tell
Picard..."
Data sighed. "I had no intention of doing so, Q."
"Very well. Good luck, Professor." And he was gone.
[Data, son of Soong.] He looked up, still saw no one. [Lay bare your mind
to the Q. It is impossible to hide anything from us, and if you try you
will only injure or kill yourself. Such warning is purely for your benefit.
Prepare. We are coming to you.]
Suddenly, Data noticed a bright white mist swirling around his legs and
wrapping around them in a manner that reminded him distinctly of Spot
wanting affection. Intriguing! When had that appeared? He did not recall--
and then suddenly the mist swept up to cover him, then seemed to rush into
his head, and for a moment all thought stopped.

"Commander, answer me!" Data jerked his head up, confused. He was sure he
had just been in the Q Continuum...
"Sir?" He did not recall having walked into the conference lounge and
sitting down to talk with this man, but he must have. For some reason, the
word [genocide] was resounding in his head, but he had no idea why.
"Something wrong with your hearing?" Data frowned slightly, trying to
recall who this was. For some reason, his memory records were slightly
sluggish. Oh, yes, this was Admiral Haftel. A human man. A Starfleet
officer. Someone whose orders he must obey.
"I said, Commander, that I'm sure you'll agree that Lal would be better off
at the Daystrom Institute, where her neural and psychological development
can be closely observed."
Bewildered, Data looked over to the captain-- *the captain? He is here,
too?* but before he could ask what was occuring, his full memory and
comprehension returned to him, and he closed his mouth.
[Admiral Haftel. He is the man who drove your daughter to her death.]
*Yes.*
[And he is human.]
*His race has nothing to do with his decisions.*
[Nevertheless, when he caused the death of Lal, he destroyed one third of
all known Soong-type androids. Destroying such a high percentage of a race
is genocide, by humanity's own standards. And this is hardly the only
example of genocide in humanity's history. Time itself is rife with
intentional and accidental destuction of life that humanity has caused. The
cause you have undertaken is hopeless from the start.]
*No. Watch.*
And he called up the memory of Captain Picard, holding firm against Admiral
Haftel's order, even after being threatened with disciplinary action.
"There are times, Admiral, when men of good conscience cannot blindly
follow orders. Order a man to hand his child over to the State? No. Not
while I'm his captain."
*Integrity, moral strength, courage. These are qualities humans possess in
abundance. They have a worthwhile contribution to make to the cosmos.*
[You are not to judge that] sent one Q.
*Neither should you.* The thought slipped out half-formed.
The angry Q twisted his mind in response, hard enough to create a
disorientation in Data that made him physically stagger. Or was it purely
mental? He had lost his abililty to be certain-- the blow had been telling.
[It is not for you to tell the Q what they should or should not do.] The
rest of the Q exclaimed in unison [And it is not for you to punish an
advocate! Especially not during the process.]

Vaguely, Data realised he was sitting. Where? Oh, yes, in a courtroom on
Starbase 173. He remembered when he had been here, and why. Commander
Maddox had wanted to take him apart, and he had wished to remain assembled.
Which had seemed entirely reasonable to him. But not to Maddox. A hearing
had had to be held on his behalf, and Captain Picard had had to defend him
before he had finally been ruled safe from Maddox's experiments. 
[Again, callous disregard for a fellow life form. Narrowness of mind, lack
of response to ideas that conflict with one's own, severe intolerance and
racism-- no examples of moral strength or courage here.]
*Except the courage of his convictions. And a wish to see any and all
potentially valuable knowledge gathered.*
[There is that,] acknowledged one Q. [Proceed with the cross-examination.]

"Data." A sharp voice, feminine, one that "meant business", as the human
saying went. Where was he now? He was on the bridge of the Enterprise, yes,
at one of the science stations at the back, behind the rail. He was wearing
one of the old-style uniforms, and in front of him was...
*Tasha?*
"I'm only going to tell you this just once," Tasha said in a cold, matter
of fact tone that brooked no argument. "It never happened."
He wanted to reply, to insist that it had happened, that she could not,
must not ignore it, but she had already speared him with a last warning
glare and turned away.
[What had occured before this? What is the context?] demanded the Q
imperiously. Before Data knew precisely what was happening, he was in
Tasha's bedroom, locked in a kiss with her, and feeling distinctly
unbalanced: *the intoxication-- I remember that.* He distinctly hoped that
the Q would not want to watch the whole procedure. Even though Tasha had
died years ago, he had a wish to protect her memory, and he was fairly
certain she would have disliked having such an intimate moment being
studied by the Q. And then, there was nothing but bright light and white
mist again; the Continuum.
[A perfect demonstration of human selfishness. Once the being in question
had performed his physical service, a complete rejection.]
*No* Data managed to assert. *She was merely embarrassed for her actions
for a time when her self-control was compromised. She did not end her
friendship with me, or do anything else other than terminate our-- more
intimate relationship.*
[Indeed.]
And then there was nothing, and everything, and it was all to do with
humanity, and it had no meaning and it had the secret of the universe
concealed within it...
Everything humanity had ever done with a cruel or unnatural bent, from the
smallest of taunts fron one individual to another including several to Data
himself, to the Nazi supremacist genocide; the war with the Klingons and
Borg and Cardassians to the religious and xenophobic interspecies wars, and
every time, the devastation left behind. 
Left across his brain like the skeletons of the wronged thrown all heaped
together in unmarked graves.
[All from humanity... you cannot argue with this.]
*No. I cannot.* But even so, he decided to try. 
The Q had presented him with every example of human folly, no matter how
small-- *and how long must that have taken? I do not know anymore.*-- so he
decided to find every example he could of human virtue. He, of course, had
no access to knowledge of every kind act throughout the centuries, but he
had his own life. And he recalled them. The efforts of those who had
rescued him form Omnicron Theta. His father, who had been so concerned
about his social interaction among other beings that he had spent the last
years of his life making an emotion chip especially for Data. The
friendship of those on the Enterprise: Geordi, Counsellor Troi, the
Captain-- everyone who had ever cultivated a friendship with him, ever.
Every small kindness he had ever witnessed presented to the Q.
*Look in humanity's history. Again. Harder.* He began to feel distinctly
odd, and he heard a strange buzzing in his head, but he tried to ignore it.
*You will find that for every cruelty, great or small, there will almost
certainly be an equal or greater act of compassion. Humans have their
faults, but they also have their strengths, like any race. They are not
inherently evil, merely impatient and a little arrogant. And my impressions
of the Q have been much the same.*
He knew the Q would be angry at his last comment which he found he could
not prevent himself from making, but he was not prepared for the reaction.
The same Q who had previously lost his temper reached into his mind and
started to tear everything within to pieces. The other Q quickly restained
him, but not before the buzzing in his head had become a shattering roar
that drowned out all his thoughts. 
[Data, son of Soong, you have given the Board much to consider. We will
ponder your evidence. You may return to the ship you think of as your
home.]
Another flash of light around him, and he was no longer in the Continuum.
But the overload from his visual sensors was the final straw on an
overtaxed mind, and he did not feel himself hit the deck of the
Enterprise's Main Engineering. He did not see Geordi turn around in
surprise, then start running towards him, slapping his communicator and
calling Crusher in alarm.
He did not realise that he was being carefully straightened by some
Engineering staff from his twisted positon on the floor from where he had
dropped. He did not know he had landed crookedly in the first place.
He did not notice anything at all. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

-- 
Trek Long and Write about it,       :-)
Jenny
jenfun@hotmail.com

From jenfun@cci.net.au Thu Oct 09 19:03:20 1997
From: "JFunnell" <jenfun@cci.net.au>
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Subject: NEW: "The Test of Times", TNG, PG, 4/4
Date: 10 Oct 1997 02:03:20 GMT
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THE TEST OF TIMES.

For all disclaimers, see part one.

Feedback of all types appreciated at 
jenfun@cci.net.au

Happy Trekking!
****************************************************** 


Captain Picard marched down the corridor to Sickbay, closely followed by
Will Riker. They knew that anything of significance would be reported, of
course, but neither of them could just stand around and wait. 
"Sir?" They turned as one to see Miles and Keiko O'Brien standing just
behind them. "Captain, we, uh, we heard that Q had taken Commander Data and
when he was returned he was hurt," said Miles awkwardly.
Picard sighed. It was no good trying to keep anything concealed when Q was
involved, and scuttlebutt was acknowledged widely to be the only thing that
could move faster than warp 10 on this ship.
"Data is our friend, sir," Keiko put in. 
"We were kind of hoping that we could drop in to Sickbay with ye and just
see how he was doing," added Miles.
"That's very kind of you both, but unfortunately too many people could
easily get in the way of Commander LaForge and Doctor Crusher." Then he saw
the worry on their faces, and softened. "We are all concerned for Commander
Data. But the only thing to be done for now is to wait. I assure you, the
instant anything definate is known, his friends will be informed."
"I hope so. He sure had a lot of them on this ship, sir."
*More, perhaps, then he knew,* thought Picard. Aloud, he said, "Yes, he did
indeed."

In Sickbay, there were a flurry of people, mostly engineers, and harried
work occurring round the central biobed.
"Report," the captain demanded tensely.
"Almost all positronic relays totally collapsed," Geordi said, not halting
his work or moving his concentration one iota. "No response on any of the
self repair programming-- someone fried his brain, sir."
"That's no exaggeration," put in Beverly tiredly, leaning against the wall.
"We've done everything we could think of and a few things we couldn't.
There is just no response. To put it bluntly, he's in the android
equivalent of a coma, and he's showing no signs that he'll ever come out of
it. Basic life support systems are functioning, and show no sign of
failing, but that's about it"
"What are you saying? That Data's going to end up some kind of-- android
vegetable?" asked Riker. He couldn't believe that.
"It looks that way," Geordi said, the grimness of exhaustion in his voice.
"I'll keep working on him, but frankly I'm not hopeful."
The room fell silent for a moment. Geordi was usually an unquenchable
optimist. If *he* had lost hope...
"Oh, don't be so down in the dumps, everybody. I assure you, the professor
of humanities will be fine in time."
Everyone spun, recognising that voice that was about as welcome as a Borg
houseguest at this time, or indeed any time. But Q was nowhere to be seen.
Geordi turned back to the monitors, and his jaw dropped at what he saw. 
The faintest of flickering, the smallest jump in positronic activity.
"Hold on," he called out. "Doc, could you come over here for a moment?"
"What is it?" asked Crusher, quickly coming around the side of the table.
"We're getting a very small response from his self-repair systems. But they
can't seem to come online properly."
"Why would that be? There's nothing to block its function. Nothing's even
working except his life support."
"Maybe that's it. I can't think of anything else it could be. Could this
biobed be modified to use his life support systems, keeping him functioning
while his self repair has a chance to work?"
"It's possible, I think. You'd have to ask a sickbay technician-- I don't
know the exact specs."
"E-Excuse me, sirs." They turned to look at Reg Barclay. "I think I c-could
alter the biobed the way y-you were just talking ab-bout." *Great work
there, Reg-- they're really going to take you seriously if you stutter all
over them!* he told himself sarcastically. At least Mister LaForge didn't
seem to mind very much.
"Are you sure, Reg?" he asked.
"Oh, y-yes sir, I'm pretty sure. I was a sickbay technician once, on the
Zhukov-- the captain ran short so I was reassigned for a while. I-If I can
see Mister Data's life s-support specs, I can do it, I think."

For all his stammering, Reg Barclay proved as good as his word. The
alteration was done within an hour, and once completed, Data's condition
improved steadily. Though he still did not regain consciousness, his neural
net repaired itself at a speedy rate. The captain was very pleased at
Barclay's performance, and therefore called Barclay into his ready room.
"Well done, Mister Barclay. You will be plesed to know that your efforts
have made a considerable change for the better in Commander Data's
condition."
Barclay blushed with pleasure at the unexpected compliment. "Th-thank you,
captain."
"No need to be modest, Lieutenant. Your actions may well have saved the
life of one of your senior officers. Such an action is hardly one Starfleet
is likely to ignore. And it is certainly not one that I intend to forget,
or leave unrewarded. You are currently a lieutenant, junior grade, are you
not?"
Almost speechless, Barclay could only nod and whisper, "Yes, sir."
"No longer." Picard corrected him with a smile. "It is within my rights as
captain of this vesssel, and also my pleasure, to announce your promotion
to full lieutenant, with all the rights and privileges of such a rank
bestowed on you."
Barclay's mouth opened, then closed. Opened again, and shut once more. He
tried a third time, and finally a sound came out. "E-Excuse me?" he asked
faintly. "I d-don't mean to be rude to you, Captain, b-but could you please
r-repeat that?"
Picard couldn't help but chuckle. "I said, Lieutenant, that you have been
promoted due to the fact that your captain is very pleased with your
exemplary performance."
"I-- I am?" At Picard's nod, Barclay let out a whoop of joy. "Oh thank you
captain this is just so unbelievable I mean I never thought I'd make it
past ensign and now I'm a full lieutenant oh I can't wait to tell Jessica
she'll be so proud of me and so will Mom this is just fantastic..."
"Lieutenant?" Picard tried to get a word in edgewise. He wasn't even sure
he could get a word in backward. Barclay did tend to babble. In that
respect, he was much like Data.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, Captain." Reg's face dropped as he realised what he'd been
doing. *Nice one, Reg. Your first act as a full lietenant is yammer your
head off in front of the captain!*
"Don't worry, Lieutenant. It's nice to hear someone happy at the moment.
Most people on the ship are a little tense."
"Oh, yes sir, I understand, Commander Data's been very nice to me-- well,
he is to everybody-- and everyone's kinda wound up, me included, and mad at
this Q guy, even if they never met him, and I know everybody's really
wanting to do something to help Mister Data, and his cat wants him back
too-- she bit me when I went in to look after her and she usually likes me
a lot."
*That man has the singularly greatest lung capacity of anyone I've ever
met* mused the captain.
"I hope she does not bite you again, Lieutenant. And I know Data would be
grateful that you are looking after her. Dismissed. Oh, and just one thing
more, Lieutenant," he called as Barclay had almost reached the door.
"Yes, sir?"
"I must confess to a little curiosity: who, precisely, is Jessica?"
Barclay's face went red hot. "W-Well, uh, she works in S-Security and we
get together and t-talk sometimes and w-we're friends and, uh," he cast a
half frantic glance at the door. "Can I g-go now, sir?"
"You may."
The next instant, Barclay had dived out the door like his life depended on
it. Picard could not help but laugh. 
He had precious little to laugh at, at the moment.

Light. That was the first thing to be seen; light, brushing away some of
the darkness.
*Let there be light... where did /that/ come from?*
Slowly, awareness returned. There was a sound, in the background; his
memory tenatively labelled it as a voice, speaking Federation Standard.
*What is Federation Standard?*
Physical stillness helped a little, kept one type of stress away, gave him
one less thing to concentrate on. Life was coming back, a little at a time.

"He's regaining consciousness, sirs."
*He? Am I the he they refer to? Who are they?*
[Open your eyes.] 
*Why?*
[Because if you do not, you will not remember.]
*Locating program instructions for opening eyes... opening...*
The sudden light on optics seemed like an almost physical blow, but it was
as nothing next to the torrent of information and memory racing into his
brain. For a moment, he could only lie still and think *Not again*, but in
0.34 seconds, the process was complete and he could think somewhat clearly
again. Then, suddenly, the haze he was seeing came into focus, and he saw
faces that, search deeper, yes, he indeed recognised. 
"Data? You okay? How're you feeling?" asked one of the faces anxiously. His
memory put the label "Geordi" to the face.
How to answer?
Finally, one came to him, one that was not truthful but nevertheless would
suffice for now.
"I am fine."

A few days later, everything seemed almost back to normal. Data had
insisted on returning to duty once several diagnostics had reported nothing
physically wrong. He had just nodded when Captain Picard had told him that
he must have been successful as an advocate, since they were all still
alive. He had gravely accepted the well-wishes of his friends, but had been
remarkably silent and withdrawn ever since his return to consciousness. He
had politely thanked Lieutenant Barclay for helping him and caring for
Spot, but nothing could seem to cheer him up.
Counsellor Troi had been heard to comment annoyedly that if Data could not
be humanly depressed, then he did a very good android version that was
impossible to shift. 
Finally, Geordi cornered him in his quarters and demanded an explanation.
"But Geordi, I am fine."
"No you're not," Geordi countered. "You're walking around with a face so
serious that people get depressed just looking at you. You're not taking
proper care of Spot-- look at her Data, I'll bet you haven't fed her since
you went back on duty. She's so hungry she's chewing on your violin's
strings, and you don't seem to give a hang about that either!"
Data turned and saw that his pet was indeed chewing on his violin. Without
a word, he stood up and lifted her away from it, and set her on the floor.
He then went to the replicator and ordered a feline supplement, and set it
down. Spot was on it like a flash, swallowing like it was her last meal.
"Now what is it that's got you so depressed?"
"I am uncertain." Data decided it was no good telling Geordi he could not
be depressed: he had a distinct sense that Geordi would not believe him.
"Since I returned from the Continuum, I have been very... uncomfortable in
the prescence of people."
"Humans?"
"No, not just humans. People of all races. During my... experience in the
Continuum, I was forced to acknowledge that my wish to become more human
was in an impractical form."
"An impractical form?"
"My wish was to gain the good without the bad. I now realise that in
people, the best and worst are intertwined, so much so that it is
impossible to have one without the other. The most depraved of humans have
some goodness in themselves, and no one is so virtuous that they have no
spark of wrongness-- evil if you will. It may be buried deep, but it is
still present."
"And you see yourself becoming something you don't want to?"
Data shrugged almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps. The main factor that disturbs
me is that I had been too naive, made an error in judgement. How many more
have I made?"
"Data, that's the way of life. People make mistakes, recognise them and
learn from them. And if you strive for the good, then the bad won't
disappear, but it will shrink a little. And as you've said yourself more
than once, the struggle is the important thing." 
Data nodded. "I will consider this carefully. Thank you, Geordi."
"That's fi--" *WHAT the?* he thought.
"We're in the conference lounge!"
"As are we all," commented Data, raising his eyebrows at the sight of the
bridge crew, looking bewildered.
"Yes, we're all here now. Me and you and Tyler too and all that rubbish."
*Oh, wonderful,* winced Geordi at that familiar voice that grated on his
ear. *Just the visitor Data needs right now.*
"Well done, my professor. You convinced the Board of Decisions, and
therefore the Continuum, not to blitz humanity off the face of the cosmos.
At least, not right now."
"What do you mean, not right now!" yelled Riker. "He passed the Test of
Times, and that's all."
"All she wrote, you mean? Far from it."
"What is this now, Q? None of my crew are going to participate any further
in this ridiculous trial. Data was successful-- you said so yourself. That
means the trial is over."
"Is that what you think?" And Picard inwardly began to worry at the sheer
amusement in the all-powerful entity's voice.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, mon capitane. Nothing of the sort. I said that
Data was an advocate. I even went so far to say that he was the *main*
advocate. But I didn't say that he would be the only advocate. Nor did I
say that his testimony would be the only evidence the Board would consider.
No, mon capitane, once again you show an almost slavish devotion to
linearity. The trial continues. Your destruction has not necessarily been
averted entirely. But it has been postponed, and you may thank Data for
that." Then he grinned. "So you'd best behave yourselves, then, hadn't
you?"
"Q--" thundered Picard.
"Yes, I know. Bearer of bad tidings is never welcome. Too bad. Well, I'll
be going now. Don't forget about Spot, Data-- the lower lifeforms tend to
get stroppy if left unfed. While I'm on the subject, would someone please
feed Worf? He's growling at me again."
And he was gone. 
Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably, each having the distinct
feeling that they were all being watched...

THE END

-- 
Trek Long and Write about it,       :-)
Jenny
jenfun@hotmail.com