Only Human: Part I,  Section 4 of 10

Only Human

An ST:TNG Alternate Universe Novel by Alara Rogers

ONLY HUMAN is a work in progress, and it's very, very long.  I
have broken Part I (I think there will be six parts, total) into
10 subsections for ease of posting, and ease of other people
reading; Part I is over 300 K, so I've broken it into sections of
between 10 and 60 K so no one's newsreader vomits. These sections
are done with some eye to logical breaking points, such as major
scene changes, but the story was not originally written with the
need for breaking points in mind. The separate subsections do not
have individual titles; the chapter name for Part I, total, is
"Starbase 56/Enterprise".

This is, as yet, something of a draft-- if I find it necessary to
revise based on what happens in parts IV-VI, or however many I end
up writing, I will do so. The most recent version is available
from various archive sites. Check out:

ftp://ftp.netcom.com/pub/al/aleph/trek
ftp://ftp.europa.com/outgoing/mercutio/alt.fan.q
ftp://aviary.share.net/pub/startrek/incomplete (though maybe I will move
it from incomplete, if I can figure out whether it belongs in TNG or other)

http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/Q.html
http://aviary.share.net/~alara
http://www1.mhv.net/~alara/ohtree.html

ONLY HUMAN is an Aleph Press production, not-for-profit, and not
intended to infringe on anybody's copyrights.  The universe, the
Enterprise crew, and the main character were created by
Paramount; most of the secondary characters were created by me,
with the exception of yet more Paramount characters and some
other people who know who they are. Any resemblance to real
people, living or dead, is probably intentional. Send comments,
criticism, praise and flames to aleph@netcom.com. Or post your
comments here-- I have a very thick skin.


        *                  *                      *

     Everyone nodded and headed off their separate ways. Troi
frowned slightly. "I thought Data took you to Ten-Forward and got
you something to eat."
     "He did. I was going to have chocolate sundaes. But the
Calamarain attacked, and I lost my appetite. Are you sure I need
to eat and I'm not coming down with a disease of some sort? Or
falling asleep again? This doesn't feel the same way hunger did
before."
     "Well, your body *could* be reacting to the Calamarain
attacks. But I think it's more likely an adrenaline reaction,
compounded by the fact that you haven't eaten. Your blood sugar's
probably low, after all that excitement. If you still feel ill
after you've eaten, I'll take you to sickbay."
     She started forward. Q followed. "Are we going to Ten-
Forward?"
     "Yes."
     "Can we go when Guinan's not there?"
     Troi looked back at him and smiled. "That's right. I forgot
you and Guinan have a history."
     Q felt a surge of remembered outrage. "She's a dangerous
creature! I can't understand why Picard allows her to roam free
on his ship. When I went to Ten-Forward before, she *stabbed*
me!"
     "You don't look hurt," Troi observed.
     "She stabbed me with a fork, in the hand. I was actually
*bleeding*. They fixed it at sickbay, after the Calamarain
attacked." 
     "I see," Troi said, still smiling. "Well, Guinan will leave
you alone if I ask her to."
     "That's why I couldn't eat. I ordered ten chocolate sundaes
and I couldn't eat any of them because she made me so angry I
lost my appetite. Then the Calamarain attacked, and I just never
had any time."
     "Wait a minute. You ordered *ten* chocolate sundaes?"
     "Data said that *you* said that eating chocolate was good
for a depression. And I was utterly miserable."
     Troi began to laugh. Q glared at her. "What are *you*
laughing at?"
     "Q, you don't eat ten chocolate sundaes!" She controlled
herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh at you."
     "You're certainly right you shouldn't. Why can't I eat ten
chocolate sundaes?"
     "It would make you sick! One, maybe two-- if that was your
only meal I could even see three. But not ten, Q. You'd never
have been able to finish them all." She shook her head, smiling
wryly. "I suppose that's the down side to having Data take care
of you. He doesn't know things like that either."
     "Well, how many does it take to cure a depression?"
     Troi shook her head. "In the first place, while chocolate
makes me feel better when I'm sad, it won't necessarily help you.
Different people react differently to food. You might not even
*like* chocolate-- though I think you will. Most humans do. But
in the second place, it's not a magic cure-all. I can sense quite
how badly you feel, Q. If *I* were that unhappy, chocolate might
make me feel a little bit better, but it wouldn't make my hurt go
away. You can't expect a chocolate sundae to solve all your
problems."
     "I wasn't expecting it to *solve* all my problems. I'd
settle for temporarily forgetting about them, though."
     They arrived at Ten-Forward. Guinan was visible behind the
bar, and Q flinched slightly, stepping behind Troi a bit. "Are
you sure we can't go at a later time?" he asked nervously.
     "You need something to eat now. Don't worry. I promise
Guinan will leave you alone." They walked over to the counter
furthest from Guinan. Q saw a look pass between the two women,
and felt a sudden sense of panic. Maybe they were conspiring
against him. Troi was going to set him up to relax and think he
was safe and then Guinan would ambush him. He wasn't really
afraid of her using her special abilities on him, not really; she
had been awfully reluctant to use them against him when *he* was
at full power, and she certainly wouldn't need them now. But he
was well aware of how fragile his body was, now. She could hurt
him in a million different ways.
     "Q, calm down," Troi said. "No one is going to hurt you."
     "Then what were you looking at Guinan for? I saw you. You
were telling her something, weren't you."
     "I'm not a telepath."
     "You don't need to be! You were saying something with that
look, I know you were."
     "I was, as a matter of fact. I was signaling her to leave us
alone." Troi shook her head. "You're feeling paranoid, Q. 
There's no need for it. I promise you, no one in Ten-Forward will
hurt you."
     "Are you sure? You can't control Guinan, you know. She'll do
whatever she wants. She's not reasonable."
     "I think you're describing yourself better than Guinan.
Whatever history the two of you have, Guinan is my friend. She
won't interfere with one of my patients if I ask her not to. Now
please. Relax. No one will hurt you."
     Despite himself, he found himself believing her. He took a
deep breath and tried to relax. This constant fear was wearying
and unpleasant-- he had to try to be less of a coward, or he'd
die of exhaustion. "All right. I'll try to calm down." 
     "I know it's hard for you." Troi put a hand on his arm,
obviously trying to comfort him. The gesture itself meant nothing
to him, but oddly enough, he was slightly comforted by the fact
that she'd thought to make the gesture. "You're not used to being
vulnerable to anything, and you're not sure what can threaten you
now, so you're jumping at shadows. But you do have to calm down,
or you'll make yourself sick."
     "What should I get to eat, then? Since you're the expert."
     The waitress approached. Troi leaned forward. "We'll have
baked minea fish, lightly braised in butter; a dish of mixed
vegetables cooked in bouillon broth; mashed potatoes, lightly
buttered and well-whipped; a glass of water; a glass of chocolate
milk, no lactose; and two chocolate sundaes, to be brought with
the rest of it. The temperature of the hot food should be mild."
     The waitress nodded and left. "So you think two chocolate
sundaes is all right, then?" Q asked.
     "You're only getting one. The other one's for me."
     "Why can't I have two chocolate sundaes? I need it more than
you."
     Troi sighed. "Q, have you ever heard of the Earth saying
'Your eyes are bigger than your stomach'?"
     "It doesn't ring a bell. I don't know everything anymore,
you know."
     "I didn't expect you to. My father always used to say that
to me. It's a human expression for when a child doesn't
understand the limits of his own capacity for food, and asks for
a lot more than he can eat. You have the same problem. You have
no idea what your capacity is. And right now, I think it would be
better for you to not get enough to eat, and feel a little
hungry, than to eat too much and get sick."
     "The prospect doesn't sound awfully appealing, I admit." Q
propped up his head on his hand. "It seems like there are dozens
of things that can make me sick."
     "There are. You'll have to be careful in testing your
limits, the first few days. That's why I ordered what I did for
you."
     "Why?"
     "The food I ordered is very mild. Some would think it bland
to the point of tastelessness. But I'd rather you ate something
nutritious and boring than that you ate something that you hated
violently, or that you were allergic to."
     "Allergic? I might be allergic to food? No one told me
this."
     "We don't know. You'll have to go carefully the first few
days, as I said."
     Q shook his head in disbelief. "It's just one thing after
another."
     The food arrived. It smelled quite pleasant, which was a
plus-- Q didn't think he could stomach food that smelled bad. The
whole notion of putting dead organic matter in his mouth was
slightly disgusting anyway. As he smelled the food, he abruptly
felt the return of the sensation he'd first identified as hunger-
- gnawing emptiness and odd noises in his abdominal region. He
picked up one of the utensils awkwardly. It was a fork. "What
should I start with?"
     "Begin with the hot food," Troi advised. "It'll get cold
faster than the ice cream will melt."
     "How am I supposed to use this?"
     Troi took the fork from his hand and demonstrated. "Spoons
are much the same, but you scoop with them instead of spearing.
The fork is for the hot food, and you use the spoon for the ice
cream."
     "Fine." He speared a piece of fish, somewhat awkwardly, and
ate it. It was quite pleasant, actually. He had imitated the act
of eating before, to experience taste, but he had never before
felt this sense of intense satisfaction at consuming food. His
body instinctively knew what it needed, and rewarded him for
supplying it. "This isn't as bad as I thought."
     "I'm glad to hear it," Troi said, digging into her ice cream
sundae.
     Q tried bites of all the items on his plate. He found the
mashed potatoes soothing, the vegetables somewhat bland and
mushy, and the ice cream sundae delicious. Quickly he ignored the
rest of his food and began to devour the sundae, smiling. "You
were right. This *is* quite good."
     "Don't eat so fast. You'll get a headache."
     That seemed like a ludicrous notion to Q. There was no way
that he could see that eating quickly could possibly result in a
headache. This sounded like an old wives' tale, on the order of
parents telling their children not to stick their hands out the
windows of aircars or the hands would be ripped off. Q knew for a
fact that no child had ever had his hand ripped off simply by
sticking it out the aircar window, and he doubted anyone ever got
a headache from eating too fast. He was probably violating some
ridiculous cultural taboo, not that he cared. Ignoring Troi, he
continued to wolf down the ice cream.
     To his great surprise, an agonizing pain stabbed through his
head. Q gasped and dropped his spoon. Troi looked concerned.
"What's wrong?"
     "My head," he said. He looked at Troi disbelievingly. "You
were right. That's ridiculous. How can eating quickly give you a
headache?"
     "I don't know what the physics of it is," Troi said. "But
when I give you a suggestion, perhaps next time you might
consider following it, instead of deciding you know best."
     Q tried to take another bite of the ice cream. The pain came
back. "How do I finish this without hurting myself?" he asked
miserably.
     "Take a break. Eat the rest of your meal. It'll warm you
up."
     Q took a few half-hearted bites of his food. It was less
tasty now. What he really wanted was the sundae. He studied it
morosely. "Well, *this* was a useless remedy. I'm still
depressed."    
     Troi sighed. "I told you it's not a panacea. Besides, you
enjoyed it, didn't you?"
     "Well, yes. Until my head exploded."
     "Then it showed you that there are some benefits to being
mortal after all. So you couldn't call it a total loss, could
you?"
     Reluctantly Q nodded. "I suppose so."
     Troi's badge bleeped. She touched it. "Troi here."
     "This is Picard. Counselor, are you still with Q?"
     "Yes."
     "When he's done with his meal, I'd like to see him in my
ready room."
     Q started to stand up. Troi motioned him back down again.
"Acknowledged, Captain." She turned to Q. "He said you could
finish dinner first."
     "I want to get it over with."
     "Finish your food. The captain hardly wants you to starve."
     The food was significantly cooler, and had even less taste
now. If he hadn't still been so hungry, he wouldn't be able to
force it down. "Let me ask you a question, Counselor."
     "Go right ahead."
     "Why are you being nice to me?" She blinked at him. He
continued. "I could understand Data-- he doesn't dislike me,
since he can't feel any emotion. You, however, I have to presume
probably dislike me as much as anyone else aboard this ship. Why
are you going out of your way to explain things to me, and
comfort me, and all that sort of thing?"
     She shrugged. "It's my job. If I couldn't put aside my
personal feelings for someone to help them, I wouldn't be a very
good counselor."
     "One could wish Picard and Riker saw things that way."
     "Captain Picard and Commander Riker aren't ship's
counselors. It's *my* job to ensure the morale of everyone aboard
this ship, including you."
     "Do you feel any qualms? Desire for revenge, outraged
justice, the like?"
     "No. You have to understand, Betazoid 'justice' is very
different from human. We don't believe in punishing people in
order to try to redress some cosmic balance; two hurts don't
cancel each other out. On Betazed, we prevent criminals from
committing crimes again, but we also do our best to make them see
why what they did was wrong and how to correct themselves in the
future. Since you've been stripped of your powers, you can't
commit crimes against us again. So now our task is to
rehabilitate you."
     Q laughed. "That's ridiculous."
     "How so?"
     "Do you expect that anything you could do to me in a human
lifetime could balance out millions of years?"
     "Yes. I do." Troi leaned forward. "Q, we don't grow unless
we're challenged. Faced with adversity. You haven't had any
reason to change in all those millions of years, since you were
never faced with adversity. Now, you have a much greater
opportunity for learning experiences. You're likely to change
more in the next five years than you did in centuries of
omnipotence. And I think that's very valuable. I think this
experience will be good for you."
     "Hardly, if I die of it."
     "I suppose that's true. But that gives you a risk--
something to work toward and something to lose if you fail. If
your Continuum does take you back, you will probably be a very
different person. That's what I'm looking at when I'm dealing
with you-- not the spoiled, petulant godling who tormented us,
but the potential to grow into a decent human being."
     "I have a hard time appreciating your point of view." He
pushed aside his plate, empty. "And I don't think I'll *ever* be
able to cut it as a human being."
     "Perhaps you're underestimating yourself." She smiled. "For
once."
     "I doubt it."
     "It's not *that* hard to be mortal."
     "Maybe not for you. I have several million years of habits
to unlearn."
     "If you stay aboard the Enterprise, I'll help you with it.
You might be surprised at what you can adapt to."
     "If I ever adapt to this, I will be *very* surprised." Q
stood up. "I'd better go see what Picard wants."
     "I'll go with you." Troi got up.
     "That isn't necessary. I know the way from here."
     "I know you do, but he left me in charge of you. I think the
captain would prefer you didn't go anywhere without an escort."
     Q smiled thinly. "What, is he afraid I'll steal another
shuttlecraft?"
     "It's standard procedure for guests to the Enterprise to
have escorts."
     "Whatever." He sighed as he walked out of Ten-Forward.
"Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die."

     Troi, thankfully, stayed outside Picard's ready room as Q
entered, feeling slightly as if he were walking into the jaws of
a large and hungry beast. "You asked to see me, mon capitaine?"
     "Sit down," Picard said, motioning at a chair. Q did so,
somewhat nervously. Picard studied him for several moments,
generating an uncomfortable silence. Finally, when Q was about to
say something, anything, to break the silence, Picard said, "It
appears I may have misjudged you."
     "Probably," Q said. "But I won't hold it against you, Jean-
Luc."
     Picard looked exasperated momentarily, but controlled it
well. "Before today-- before an hour or so ago-- I would have
said that you were entirely selfish, incapable of inconveniencing
yourself for another's sake, let alone capable of self-sacrifice.
I still find it somewhat hard to believe that you were willing to
die for us. Perhaps there's a little more-- humanity-- in you
than I would have thought."
     "There's no need to be insulting."
     "It was not intended to be insulting. As you well know."
     Q looked away. "Yes. I know."
     "Did you believe the others would intercede for you? That
they would take you back if you committed a selfless act?"
     "If I had, it would hardly have been selfless, would it?" Q
turned on Picard. "You know, I resent your implications here. You
don't know me. You know nothing about me. Except for the past
twenty hours or so, all you've seen of me is what I chose to show
you, and on that basis you make judgments about what I'm capable
of? You don't know what I'm capable of. I do understand the
concept of guilt, you know. And the concept of the good of the
many outweighing the good of the few. Those things are hardly
unknown to the Q."
     "I have wondered if you possess a moral sense at all. When
you first came here, you leveled accusations against us that
almost precisely corresponded to what you yourself were doing.
You claimed that we were a savage race who made prejudgments on
the basis of little or no understanding, demonstrating that you
yourself did exactly that. Now I am left with the impression that
you were never sent with the authority of your Continuum at all.
That they in fact disapproved of your behavior and have
disapproved for some time."
     "I can see where you'd get that impression."
     "Everything you have told us about them is a lie, isn't it?"
     "Hardly everything. It's true they kicked me out. You can
see that for yourself."
     "When you last came here, you told us that you had been
exiled from the Q Continuum, but you were still in obvious
possession of your powers. Was that a lie as well? And if not,
what further thing did you do to justify being punished more?"
     Q sighed, realizing that he wasn't able to dissemble on this
topic anymore. "Not a lie... exactly. But it... wasn't exactly
the first time they'd done it, either."
     "You'd been exiled before?"
     "It's a temporary sort of thing. No one takes it very
seriously-- it's generally only for a few hundred years or so.
It's happened... a few times. The last time, they were mostly
annoyed with me because I..." He realized he was saying too much,
and that he really didn't want to explain the next part.
     "Because you what?"
     He also didn't seem to have a choice. "Because I, uh...
didn't exactly have the, uh, authority to give Riker the powers,"
Q mumbled.
     "And was that part of the reason for your further
punishment?"
     "No, that... they've apparently been debating that behind my
back for the past thousand years or so. It just happened they
reached a decision now."
     "I see." Picard steepled his hands in front of his face.
"Now. Why, exactly, did they throw you out?"
     "You heard him. And I told you already, anyway."
     "I want to hear it again."
     Q sighed. "They think I use my powers irresponsibly. I take
privileges I have no right to. I consistently bend the spirit of
the law in following the letter. I disobey my elders. I torment
lower races and make the rest of the Continuum look bad. Do I
have to go on?"
     "No," Picard said, nodding. "I would say that I agree with
their assessment."
     "Well, I'm sure they're all thrilled to hear it."
     "Do you believe the punishment was justified?"
     The worst of the depression, held somewhat in abeyance most
of this time, crashed in on Q. He folded his hands in his lap and
stared down at them, silent for a minute. He hadn't needed to
hear that question, hadn't needed to be reminded. In a small,
almost inaudible voice he whispered, "...yes."
     Picard looked surprised. "You do?"
     Q looked up, taking refuge in anger. "The Q Continuum is
perfect, incapable of making a mistake. Individual Q, yes,
obviously. But if I were to believe for a moment that the
Continuum, acting as a whole, could make an incorrect judgment,
it would invalidate everything I've known for millions of years.
Frankly, I'd far prefer to believe that I'm an evil bastard who
deserved what he got. See, I don't think you understand, Picard.
Your human analogies only work up to a point. I was *part* of the
same body that judged me! Part of me... was part of the decision
to condemn me." He sagged again, the anger fading. "I told you I
understand the concept of guilt."
     "You... condemned yourself?" Picard sounded somewhat
shocked.
     "It's... complicated, and I doubt I could explain in human
terms. But... I was part of the Q Continuum. That doesn't mean
the same thing as being part of the human race. To a certain
extent... we are all the same entity."
     "Like the Borg?"
     "*Not* like the Borg, nothing like the Borg. We value our
individuality very highly. But... I just can't explain it in
human terms, all right? We're all individuals *and* we're all
part of a collective mind. You'll just have to accept that."
     "Very well."
     "But... to the extent to which I am-- *was*-- part of the
collective... it wasn't a decision made by vote, the way you
would understand it, any more than the separate parts of your
mind vote on your decisions. There were pros and cons weighed,
but in the end, it was unanimous. It had to be, or they wouldn't
have acted on it. And at the time that the Continuum unanimously
decided to throw me out, I was still part of it. So-- in a
certain limited sense, yes. I condemned myself."
     Picard sighed. "I'm not sure I understand, but I'll leave it
at that. I really hadn't intended for this to turn into an
interrogation."
     "What an astonishing coincidence that it turned out that
way, then." Q frowned at Picard. "Tell me, Jean-Luc, *has* there
been a point to all these questions aside from your desire to
needlessly humiliate me?"
     "Yes. There has." Picard leaned back. "I doubt I will ever
be able to forgive you for the deaths of my crewmen, the last
time you were here. And I think it would take a great deal of
time for me to be able to forget how you treated us, the first
and second times we encountered you. But I have revised my
opinion of you somewhat. I now believe that there is some hope
for you-- that you might, perhaps, develop into a better person.
Perhaps someday, unlikely as it seems now, even a person worth
knowing."
     "Really." This was surprising, and pleasant-- after the
direction the conversation had taken, Q was expecting another
long speech about how horrible he was. He controlled the impulse
to smile. "Does this mean you'll let me stay on your starship?"
     "I've been considering that very question."
     "And?"
     "No." 
     Q stared at Picard. *I'm going to take the word 'and' out of
my vocabulary*, he vowed. "What do you mean, 'no'?" 
     "I mean no. I don't believe it would be beneficial for
anyone for you to stay aboard the Enterprise."
     "Why not?" The fear came back again-- fear that he would be
cast out, abandoned to die or simply abandoned, left with people
he had even less affinity with than the Enterprise crew. "I could
be helpful. I told you last time, you're not prepared for the
dangers out there. I may not be omniscient anymore, but I still
have a vast amount of knowledge I could share with you-- and with
my powers gone, you don't need to mistrust me quite so much.
Picard, you're turning down the opportunity of a lifetime."
     "I am also turning down the headache of a lifetime. Q, I am
not disputing that you could be very useful. But frankly, you're
not worth the trouble. If it were simply that you are a danger to
this ship, I might decide differently. We are reasonably well
able to defend ourselves, and there is precedent-- Starfleet
ships have offered people with dangerous enemies sanctuary in
exchange for information or services before. In fact, I can say
with some certainty that if some other entity, with whom we had
had no experience, turned up in the same situation as you,
requesting the same protection as you, and offering the same
information as you, I might have accepted. The trouble is that I
know you."
     "You're abandoning me just because you don't like me? I
thought better of you, Picard."
     "In the first place, I'm hardly abandoning you. I will
arrange a sanctuary for you-- elsewhere. In the second place, if
it were simply that I personally disliked you, I would never let
it interfere with my decision. And in the third place, whether
you believe it or not, I have your best interests in mind as well
as the welfare of my ship."
     "Oh, *my* best interests in mind? Let's hear your
explanation for *that*, Picard. This one ought to be good."
     Picard leaned forward and spoke calmly, evenly. "You are
obnoxious. Insubordinate. Unused to discipline. You possess no
workable interpersonal skills. These things alone would make a
starship a bad place for you. The morale of my people depends on
their ability to trust and get along with one another, and you
are neither trustworthy nor socially adequate." 
     As Q opened his mouth to interrupt, Picard held up a hand,
overriding him. "Before you complain that you *are* trustworthy
or some such, hear me out. If you cast in your lot with us, I
have no doubt that you would *want* to be trustworthy-- that you
would not betray us for casual amusement, as you would have in
the past. You are simply not dependable. As I've said before, you
are insubordinate, undisciplined and very much accustomed to
getting your own way. There are times aboard a starship when
everyone's life depends on one person's ability to obey orders
quickly and without question. Perhaps you could learn to take
orders from me. But what about others? Today you interfered with
our work on the Bre'el satellite because you refused to take
commands from Mr. LaForge. Your abilities are of no use to us if
you cannot use them under someone else's direction. You might be
required to work under the direction of Data, or Worf-- for that
matter, it is not inconceivable that in some situation you would
be working under Wesley Crusher. Could you under *any*
circumstances take orders from a sixteen-year-old boy?" 
     Q looked down. "You... have a point," he admitted
reluctantly.
     "Even this would not be an insurmountable difficulty, if you
were on another starship, or we had no history with you. Neither
of these is the case, however. Before, I told you that you would
have to work hard to earn our trust. I've reconsidered in the
light of the past several hours, and I no longer think that
working hard would do it. Q, you don't have the skills to win our
trust. We knew you when, and that will always interfere. It would
be an intolerable strain on ship morale if I were to ask my
people to protect an individual who has harmed them in the past,
who does nothing to make them like him, and whose presence puts
the ship into grave danger."
     "I thought you humans were supposed to be so compassionate."
     "Compassionate, yes. But compassion doesn't operate in a
vacuum. Humans learn the rules of social interaction with one
another, rules to... *encourage* others to be compassionate with
them. The only social interaction you've mastered is how to be
obnoxious. I don't think you even need to try. In fact, even when
you try not to be, you're obnoxious. For instance, earlier, when
you came into my ready room to talk to me after you were last
attacked by the Calamarain, you sat down on my desk. You *must*
be aware of the fact that I find such behavior intensely irritat-
ing."
     "I didn't-- I wasn't trying to be irritating. I didn't
think--"
     "You didn't think. Precisely. I know you weren't trying to
be irritating, Q. In your own fashion, you were trying to
apologize, I'm sure. But you see my point. At your most sincere,
you still manage to annoy people." Picard sighed. "When Data
first came aboard the Enterprise, he hadn't much more practical
knowledge of human social interaction than you do. In many
respects, he had much less. In some respects, he still has much
less. But Data had no bad habits to unlearn. You are going to
have to be with people who'll be very patient with you while you
unlearn your bad habits and learn good ones-- and I don't think
the Enterprise crew is capable of being that patient with you.
You need to go somewhere new, start over with people who didn't
know you as an omnipotent bully. People who didn't lose 18
friends and shipmates to an encounter you provoked."
     "I'm getting very tired of you throwing that up in my face,
Picard," Q snapped. "I didn't kill those 18 people. The Borg
did."
     "We would never have encountered the Borg if you hadn't sent
us into their territory!"
     "Au contraire, mon capitaine. You're going to encounter
the Borg in less than a year, and I won't have had a thing to do
with it. If you'd let me join your crew, I would have warned you-
- they're heading for Federation space, they've been headed this
way for some time, and I'd estimate their arrival at sometime
this year or next."
     Picard stared. "That's not what you implied last time."
     Q shrugged. "I've been known to be vague about the facts."
     "And I'm expected to believe you this time?"
     "This time I've got as much at stake as you do. Believe me,
I have no desire to be assimilated by the Borg." Q leaned
forward. "I could help you against them, Picard. We have some
time to prepare. I don't know very much about your technology,
it's true, but I understand physics far better than any of your
people possibly could. I've also made a minor hobby of studying
the Borg-- I know far better than you what *they* can do. I could
work with you on improving your technology, exploiting weaknesses
in the Borg-- There's no way you can beat them without my help,
you know that."
     "I appreciate the offer, and I'm sure Starfleet will wish to
take you up on it. The Enterprise is not the place for that,
however. You would need to be somewhere stationary, somewhere
that Federation scientists can get access to easily."
     Or in other words, no matter what Q said, Picard would find
an excuse to abandon him. Q sighed, defeated. "What did you have
in mind?"
     "If you were to offer your knowledge to the Federation as a
whole, I'm sure Starfleet would be happy to give you protection.
They could set you up on a starbase or a station, something with
a fairly advanced defensive capacity. Federation scientists would
come to you for theoretical knowledge, or historical data, or
anything you have the ability to tell them about. In exchange
Starfleet could protect you, provide you room and board and
whatever else you need."
     "You've wanted to shuffle me off to a starbase since this
began."
     "Q, a starbase would be a far better place for you than
here. For one thing, if you were providing the Federation with
your knowledge, you would become very valuable. You would be
given sufficient status to compensate for your--"
     "Personal problems?"
     "Personality problems, I would say. But yes. And as I said
before, they wouldn't know you. They'd have no previously
established reason to dislike you. You might even make friends."
Picard sounded as if he didn't entirely believe the last part of
what he was saying himself.
     "What do you mean, they wouldn't know me? How am I supposed
to explain my knowledge-- and my need for protection-- without
telling them who I am?"
     "Oh, they'll know who you are. I'm sure they'll be briefed
thoroughly. But humans usually prefer to decide their own
opinions on the basis of personal knowledge, rather than relying
on someone else's experience. They will know *of* you, but they
won't *know* you, and that might make all the difference."
     There was apparently no way to get out of this. "If you
insist, Picard." Q still felt as if he were being abandoned, but
he wasn't about to admit it-- he had already shown far too much
weakness for his tastes. "Make whatever arrangements you wish,
I'll comply with them. I don't appear to have much of a choice."
     "No. You don't." Picard stood up. "I'll have Counselor Troi
take you to spare quarters in one of the civilian areas and set
you up there. We probably won't be able to drop you off for a
week or so, so you'll need a place to stay. You can wash, rest,
get changed, that sort of thing."
     "Anything's an improvement on the brig. I'm not picky."
     Picard smiled. "I rather doubt that."