Only Human: Part I, Section 6 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. * * * In his quarters, he lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering how one went about falling asleep. Last time it had just happened-- sleep, or at least drugged unconscious- ness, had overwhelmed him against his will. That didn't seem about to happen. He thought back, and remembered being unable to keep his eyes open-- weren't closed eyes associated with sleep and unconsciousness? Q tried closing his eyes and staring at the blank expanse of reddish dark that action produced. Nothing. All right, next step. Maybe he needed to be wearing specific nightclothes. He knew that humans often put on different clothes to go to bed. He got up and checked the replicator menu. There were nightgowns, nightdresses, pajamas, sleepers, and lingerie, most of which was marked "f". The pajamas seemed similar to what he wore when awake, but with softer, lighter material. He ordered a set of two-piece pajamas in red and black-- he was awfully fond of red and black-- put them on, lay back down and tried again. No luck. There was something he was leaving out here, wasn't there? Q tried to remember his study of human life. He hadn't been interested in how they supported their biological existences, paying more attention to their politics, religions and emotional lives-- the interesting stuff. About the only mundane things he'd bothered to look at were speech patterns and clothing. But he had to have noticed *something* about the way they slept-- darkness! Of course! He turned off the light and lay back down. Most humans preferred to sleep in semitotal darkness. That was what he'd left out. It was difficult to get comfortable. He tried lying on his side, his back and his stomach. The stomach, he quickly discovered, was a bad idea-- the bouts with nausea and the injury Guinan had given him had made his entire abdominal region ache. The painkiller Crusher had given him mostly muted the ache, but putting pressure on it was definitely a bad idea. Lying on his side, with one arm curled up beside his body and the other underneath the pillow and his head, seemed to be the most comfortable position until the arm under the pillow started tingling. He tried to move it and discovered an awful, nauseating prickling sensation that shot through his entire arm. When he kept it totally still, it felt unpleasantly numb. Instinctively he reached for his combadge with his good arm to call sickbay. Two things stopped him-- the memory of Crusher's warning and the awful prickling sensation again, overwhelming him as he accidentally moved his other arm. Time to use the computer. "Computer, lights on!" They obligingly came on, blinding him. He blinked in pain and covered his eyes with his good arm. "Look up the following medical symptoms in arms: numbness, prickling sensations, pain, nausea generated by moving one's arm, and tell me the most simple explanation that handles all the symptoms." "Define most simple." Q sighed theatrically. "The most normal. The least life- threatening. This is probably something perfectly normal for humans-- so far it seems everything has been." "Possible explanation: Loss of circulation to injured limb. Possible explanation: Neural damage to injured limb. Possible explanation: Loss of injured limb. Possible--" "Stop. What causes a loss of circulation? I want the most normal, least life-threatening explanation first." "Steady pressure on limb can result in loss of circulation." Steady pressure like resting his head on it for ten minutes, possibly? "If loss of circulation is caused by steady pressure, how do you restore circulation?" "Moving injured limb will restore circulation and eliminate symptoms." Lovely. Q tried moving it, tentatively. The unpleasant sensation came back, worse than ever. Experimentally he tried taking the limb with his other hand and moving it back and forth manually. That was a lot less painful. Soon he found that the sensation had dwindled to the point where he could move the arm itself without feeling sick. Each motion seemed to hurt a bit less, until ordinary feeling was restored. "Computer, lights off." He lay on his back and tried to find a comfortable place to put his arms. Throwing one across the bed and the other over his head seemed to be comfortable, but made him feel exposed and vulnerable. He tried pulling the blankets up over him, and discovered that they decreased the feeling of vulnerability by a good bit. Fine. He had a comfortable position, the lights were out, his eyes were closed. Why wasn't he asleep yet? The bruise on his knee, from bumping into the toilet, began to ache. Then the bruise on his side, from when the Calamarain had first attacked and he'd fallen to the floor of Ten-Forward. Then the bruises on his back and shoulders from falling to the floor of Engineering, the second time the Calamarain had attacked. Apparently his painkillers were wearing off. Exasperated, Q sat up. It could not possibly be this difficult for humans to fall asleep. According to the chronometer, he had been working at this for an hour or two, and felt no closer to sleep than before. He picked up his combadge. Sickbay was out of the question and both Troi and Crusher had implied they would be going to sleep. Data wouldn't be asleep, but Data didn't sleep, and probably couldn't offer much advice on how to do it. Q called Picard. "Picard here." The voice sounded hoarse and slightly bleary. "Picard, how do you fall asleep?" There was a moment of silence. Then, "Is this Q?" "Well, of course it is." The sound of a deep breath being taken. "How does one fall asleep." "That's right. I've been trying for hours." "To begin with," Picard said, in a tone that indicated his patience had run out, "one avoids being called by formerly omnipotent entities in the middle of the night." "Oh. Did I wake you?" "Do you have any idea what time it is?!" Q looked over at the chronometer. "0100 hours, is what the clock says." "0100 hours. Exactly. Well into shipboard night. You can safely assume that everyone on the day shift except for Data is asleep at this hour. Humans who are asleep do *not* appreciate being woken up before the appropriate time, which in my case is 0600 hours. Five entire hours from now. Now *go to sleep, Q!*" "*How?* If I knew how to go to sleep, I'd be asleep already!" "Count sheep," Picard snapped in exasperation. "*What* sheep?" Q asked, bewildered. The link was silent. Picard had cut him off. Q replaced his combadge on the nighttable and stared up into the darkness of the bedroom, feeling strangely lonely. There wasn't anyone else he could call for help. The sudden quiet after the sound of a human voice was somehow more silent than the room had been before he'd called Picard, and the absence of any other presence, human or otherwise, seemed far more pronounced now. All he could hear was his own breathing and a far-distant hum, possibly the warp engines. With blackness around him, silence enveloping him and all the additional senses he'd enjoyed before gone, he felt as if he were cut off from everything. He shifted slightly, simply to feel himself move, to know that he still existed. For the first time in his life, he was alone, completely trapped within his own mind, without the glow of the Continuum surrounding him, without even anyone to talk to. As far as the universe was concerned, he might not even exist. His throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe. At the same time, his eyes burned, a similar but not identical sensation to when he'd gotten chemicals in them. His own utter loneliness and helplessness overwhelmed him, and the choking sensation in his throat worsened as his chest grew tight as well. Something blurred his vision. For a panicked second Q reached reflexively for his combadge, fearing that something new and horrible was happening to him. Then he realized there was no one he could call for help-- the unsympathetic Dr. Raskin currently ruled sickbay, and everyone else was asleep. The thought produced a renewed wave of loneliness and despair. His breath came in ragged and uncontrollable, with small unpleasant sounds in it that he couldn't seem to stop, and when he reached his hand to his eyes the hand came away wet. That explained it, then. He might know little about human biological functions, but he knew how they showed emotion. Wet eyes meant tears. He was crying. Q turned over and curled up in a ball, clutching the pillow to himself and muffling his sobs in it. He should have been humiliated, mortified to have sunk so low, but he couldn't muster up the strength. The fact was that he *had* sunk unbelievably far, from the heights of godhead to the lowliest of the low. There was no more room for humiliation in him. He was hurt and exhausted and desperately alone, and he clung to the pillow like a lifeline and cried like an abandoned human child. *Take me back, please. I can't bear this any more. I've learned my lesson, I swear. Oh, please, take me back, take me back...* Some time later his whole body jerked, and he opened his eyes to darkness. His pajamas were drenched and sticking to his body, the blankets tangled around him. The chronometer read 0423 hours. His eyes burned, his mouth was dry, his head pounded, and he was trembling uncontrollably. This was his quarters aboard the Enterprise, not the courtroom he'd devised. It had been a hallucination-- a horribly vivid hallucination. *Not insane too*, he moaned silently. *Please don't let me be going insane on top of everything else.* Q struggled out of the bedclothes and changed into one of the outfits he'd had the replicator make him earlier, realized there was no point to doing so because the source of the dampness was his own sweat, undressed again and stumbled into the bathroom. All the bruises he'd acquired yesterday, or today, or whenever it had been, had decided they were going to hurt. The light in the bathroom was acutely painful for a few moments, but his eyes adapted quickly enough. He washed, a bit more proficiently this time, dried himself and drank two glasses of water. He then got dressed in a different outfit and sat down in a chair in his room to decide what to do next. The trembling had lessened slightly, but hadn't entirely gone away. He had to know what this meant. The things he'd hallucinated had proceeded in a sequence, like a story, but there were nonsensical, illogical gaps and leaps throughout, things he hadn't noticed at the time but that seemed glaringly obvious now. Had one of his people briefly sent him into some sort of mad scenario? Or was he himself going mad? Or was there a perfectly innocent explanation that he simply didn't know? For the thousandth time, he wished he'd picked a different species, or studied what human lives were actually like a bit more carefully. His own ignorance terrified him. But it was still late at night-- Picard had said that he got up at 0600 hours, still 1« hours from now, and undoubtedly no one else would be awake either. He considered calling sickbay anyway, Raskin or no-- surely a doctor would be honor-bound to help him despite personal feelings? Then he remembered a bit more human history, realized he was being shockingly naive, and shook his head. Calling sickbay was out of the question. Data would be awake, though. Assuming the android had been let out of sickbay-- and Q hadn't seen him there earlier-- Data would neither be on duty nor asleep at this hour. At least, Q hoped he wouldn't be on duty. "Computer, give me the status of Commander Data." "Lieutenant Commander Data is in his quarters." "Which are where, exactly? Draw me a map." A schematic of the Enterprise came up, with Data's and Q's quarters and the path between them clearly labeled. Q studied the schematic until he was sure he could make it-- he did not want to have to ask anyone directions-- and then set off. Data might not himself sleep, but he definitely knew more about the condition than Q did. And if Data couldn't explain the hallucinations either, and it became necessary to go to sickbay, Q wanted to have someone he trusted go with him to protect him. Data's voice sounded over the intercom. "Come in." The door slid open, and Q stepped through. Data was sitting at a console, looking up with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "Q. I am surprised to see you still awake." "I tried to sleep, but I just had the most horrible experience." He reconsidered. "Well, not the most horrible. This has been a day just chock-full of horrible experiences. But *a* horrible experience, anyway. I was hoping you could explain what it was." "I will try," Data said. "What sort of horrible experience did you have?" Q sat down in a chair across from the console. "I... hallucinated." "Hallucinated?" "Only I thought it was real. But it couldn't have been real, because it made no sense." "Can you describe your hallucination?" Q nodded. "It's vague now. I'm having a hard time remembering parts of it-- which is just as well, considering how awful it was. But-- I thought I had my powers, and I was going to take Picard back to the 21st century. I don't remember why-- no, I do remember why. I wanted to show him how barbaric humanity could get. And there was this woman with us, and she was Picard's girlfriend, and a friend of mine. But she isn't anyone who really exists. I took all of us back to the 21st century, the post- atomic horror, where I met Guinan and Questioner--" "Questioner?" "Queria. Questioner. Whatever she's calling herself. She's another of the Q. When she takes a name in a mortal language, it's usually a variant on 'questioner'. Anyway, she was there, and Guinan. They said that I wasn't allowed to influence time... and they took my powers away. And then the Cleris stormtroopers showed up." "What are Cleris stormtroopers?" "The Cleris used to be a particularly nasty race as nasty races go. I remember thinking at the time, 'Wait, this is Earth, not Cleris. Someone else must be interfering.' But I couldn't use my powers. The woman-- I don't remember her name, it started with a V or something-- was insisting that this was some game I was playing, that I had to get us out of there now. She wouldn't believe that I couldn't. Then the stormtroopers killed her." Q frowned. "I felt guilty. Horribly so. As if *I'd* killed her. I thought of her as a friend... and I couldn't protect her. Then Picard started accusing me of having gotten us into this and gotten her killed. And the stormtroopers took us to a courtroom... and it was mine." Data tilted his head slightly. "The courtroom that you tried the Enterprise crew in?" "Yes. Exactly. And someone who was wearing my form-- who looked exactly like I did when I was being the judge-- was being the judge. I told him that I'd reserved that form for my use, that he wasn't allowed to take it. And he laughed, and he said he was me. From the past. And he was putting me on trial for crimes against the Q, or maybe crimes against myself... It was just horrible." Q shuddered. "The stormtroopers were going to shoot me... and then I was back in my bedroom aboard the Enterprise. I don't understand any of it. Did someone send me into some cruel scenario? Did any of it really happen?" "What you experienced was most certainly a dream, Q." "A dream." Data nodded solemnly. "Yes. Dreaming is a fundamental part of the human sleep cycle. Since the dream you experienced was unpleasant, it might be more precisely described as a nightmare." Q nodded. "That sounds about right." A horrible thought suddenly struck him. "Wait a minute. You mean I'm going to have to go through this *every night?*" "If you mean to ask if you will dream every night, then yes. Humans invariably dream several times in a sleep cycle. However, some humans remember none of their dreams, and few remember all. Moreover, only a small percentage of dreams are nightmares, or bad dreams. Though I cannot speak from personal experience, I have observed that most humans find the act of dreaming to be overall a pleasurable experience. The sort of disturbing scenario you describe is relatively rare." "What percentage? How many of these nightmares can I expect to have?" "I know of no way to determine that." Data cocked his head, thinking about it. "While I know of no studies that have been done on the subject, it is axiomatic among humans that emotional stress can produce nightmares." "Oh, wonderful!" Q sank back in the chair. "Data, I'm probably going to be under emotional stress for the rest of my life!" "For your sake, I hope you are wrong," Data said, sounding slightly concerned-- though maybe that was Q's imagination. Could Data feel concerned? "Emotional stress is very damaging to humans, both physically and mentally. If, as you believe, you suffer from emotional stress for the rest of your life, I am afraid that life will be significantly shortened." "Yes, well, I expected that." Q studied the floor for a moment. The depression threatened to overwhelm him again. Quickly he looked up, back at Data. "Tell me something, Data. Why *did* you save my life, before?" "It would not have been ethical to do otherwise." "Ah. So you would've done the same for anyone." "That is correct." "How do you feel?" Data seemed to consider. "I am functioning within normal parameters. Though the process to restore me to function was time-consuming and labor-intensive, it seems to have been completely successful. I am not aware of any lingering damage." "Well, that's good." "Thank you. How do *you* feel?" "Miserable." Q hunched over slightly in his chair. "Somewhere I seem to have managed to pick up at least one bruise on every major body part, my stomach still hurts and my head is killing me. If you're asking if there's any lingering effects from the Calamarain, though, I don't think so-- though so much of the rest of me hurts that I'm not sure I'd be able to tell." "I am sorry to hear that." Data studied Q. "I have noticed that you look unwell. Your eyes, for instance, are inflamed. Do they feel sore?" "Yeah. I got soap in them before." Q imagined the fact that he'd spent however long it had been bawling like a baby probably had something to do with it too, but he wasn't about to admit that part, not even to Data. "This whole day-- how long has it been, anyway? Since I came aboard?" "33 hours and 52 minutes." "Well, then, this whole day and a half has been absolutely the worst day of my entire existence." He looked at the floor again. "Data, I'm grateful to you for saving my life-- don't think I'm not-- but next time, don't bother." Data frowned slightly in puzzlement. "Why not?" "Because it's just not worth it." "I see." Data leaned forward slightly. "Q, I do not mean to pry, but it is important that I know. Are you in danger of taking your own life?" Q stared at Data for several seconds incredulously, and then began to laugh. Data seemed confused. "I did not intend a joke. Have I unintentionally said something funny?" "Oh, Data," Q laughed. "I may be stunningly ignorant of human biology and customs, but not even I am that astonishingly naive." "Was the question inappropriate?" Q sobered. "No. It was a perfectly appropriate question, assuming you'd get a straight answer-- but the odds against me giving a straight answer to that question are pretty low." "I do not understand." "Let me clarify, then. If I were to say yes, you'd try to stop me. Am I right?" "Yes." "I thought so. You'd put me on a suicide watch or something, right? Well, we'll ignore the question of your ethical right to stop me or lack thereof for now, and analyze what I'm likely to say in response. If I *did* plan to kill myself, I'd be a fool to tell you so-- you'd stop me. So if the truthful answer was yes, I'd reply no. On the other hand, if I just wanted to get attention, I might well say yes." "Are there any circumstances under which you would answer the question truthfully?" Data asked. Q sighed. "For what it's worth, these circumstances." He smiled briefly. "Having just told you you can't trust me to give you a straight answer, I'm now about to ask you to trust that I'm doing so. I am utterly and completely miserable and likely to remain so for the duration of my human life-- but I've been told that if I stick it out, my people might take me back. I'm not about to give up my chance at getting my powers back." "So there is some chance, then." "That's what they told me." "I am glad for you." Q looked at Data, startled. "Are you? Really?" "Not really. I am incapable of feeling glad. But I have observed that when humans have an opportunity that gives them pleasure, it is polite to express happiness for them." "Right." Q studied Data for a second or two, frowning. "Considering what I've done to you and your friends, if you *did* have emotions, you probably wouldn't be glad anyway." "If you do not truly desire to die, why did you ask me not to save you should you be endangered again?" "Because I'm depressed, and I'm likely to say stupid, illogical things for as long as I'm depressed." "Ah. So you did not truly mean it." "No-- yes. In a way. If I'm in danger again, and you can save me without any risk to yourself, by all means, please do. But if it involves risking your own life-- that's when not to bother." "Why not?" "It'd be a foolish waste. You're enjoying your life a great deal more than I'm enjoying mine." "Q, I am not sure you understand. I am an android. I do not actually feel enjoyment." "Yeah, well, zero is still considerably larger than negative six billion, isn't it?" Data frowned quizzically at Q, who elucidated. "Whatever it is you get out of living, you're getting more of it than I am. And I don't want to owe a debt like that. I already owe you more than I'm going to get a chance to pay back unless I get my powers back." "I am not tallying up debts," Data said. "Maybe you're not. I'm sure everyone else on this ship is. I have enough problems without everyone deciding to blame me for your death or something." "I see. Should the situation arise again, I will consider your wishes. However, I cannot promise that I will be able to honor them." Data hesitated for a moment. "It is very late. I think it would be best if you went to sleep soon." Oh. Or in other words, Data had better things to do than talk to Q. "Am I to take it that you're kicking me out?" Data tilted his head slightly, seeming puzzled. "'Kicking you out'?" "I'm interrupting something of no doubt vital importance that you want to get back to, so you're trying to shoo me away. Right?" "Ah. I see your meaning. No, I am not trying to 'shoo you away'. I am perfectly capable of holding a conversation with you and simultaneously attending to the task I am performing. Actually, I am finding our conversation most intriguing. I have never before encountered a being who has been transformed into a human from some other state. I had not considered the difficulties such a transformation would entail, and the problems you bring up have given me some insight into the human condition. It seems that I know more about being human than I had thought, a circumstance which I find gratifying to discover." "Oh. Well, I'm glad *somebody's* getting something out of this." "Yes. It is not my desire to curtail this discussion; I simply mean that it would be best for you to sleep. If you entrain your sleep schedule to the day period, you will consistently be awake when all the regular crew aside from myself are asleep, which will present difficulties for you. It might be best for you to sleep now, and attempt to entrain yourself to a regular day/night cycle." "I don't want to go to sleep." Q leaned back in the chair slightly, folding his arms in tightly, as if wrapping himself in them. "The last time I tried, I..." *Was overwhelmed with existential angst and started bawling like an infant.* "...I felt very... lonely. It was as if, all of a sudden, I was completely alone in the universe. As if no one else existed-- as if I myself might not exist. It's not an experience I'm eager to repeat." "I see." Data considered. "Humans often suffer a period of extreme emotional vulnerability in the earliest hours of the morning. Feelings of loneliness, despair and fear are not uncommon at such times. It is as if the normal defenses of the mind are weakened by exhaustion and by the physiological depression in circadian rhythms accompanying that time period." "What do humans normally do about it?" "One solution is to do as you are, and hold a conversation with someone else. A more productive solution, resulting in effective sleep, might be to listen to relaxing music, or to sleep with the light on. These are recommended solutions for individuals suffering from insomnia associated with depression, stress or fear of the dark." "I thought you had to have the lights off to go to sleep." "No. While many humans prefer to sleep in darkness, it is not a necessary condition." "Oh. Thanks. I'll try that." Q considered getting up and going back to his room to do so, but the chair was very comfortable, he didn't feel like moving, and Data's advice or no, he still didn't want to face being alone again. "You've really helped me a lot, Data. I don't know what I would have done without you." "You would undoubtedly have consulted someone else." From anyone else, it would have been a sarcastic or facetious comment. From Data, it was simply a statement of fact. "Yes, but... they wouldn't have been as much help." Data seemed surprised. "Surely a human would be better able to counsel you through the difficulties being human presents than I could. I have no experience of the things I have advised you on. It is very possible that my advice could be unintentionally misleading or incomplete." "That's not why. Certainly they'd be *able* to give me better advice than you can, but they *wouldn't*. They'd get impatient. Or judge me. Or refuse to help, or give deliberately misleading advice. Data, with your ethical programming, and your desire to match up to your ideal of humanity, and without human emotions like anger or resentment to cloud the issue, you're a lot more compassionate than most human beings. Even Counselor Troi, with all her talk about how this is supposed to be a learning experience for me. I'm sure she's secretly filled with glee at watching me struggle. Picard just wants to get rid of me. None of them except for you are really willing to give me the time of day." He felt his throat tightening with emotion again, and cursed inwardly. *Oh, no. I'm not breaking that far again.* Q drew a deep breath and took refuge in anger. "You're the only one I'll miss out of everyone on this forsaken starship." "Then you must be looking forward to transferring to starbase 56." Q stared. "It's been decided already?" he asked, and heard a tremor in his own voice. "Well. Picard certainly doesn't waste any time, does he." "Captain Picard is remarkably efficient. It is one of the traits that make him such an effective starship commander." Data studied Q. "You appear to be somewhat distressed." "I-- you could say that." "Are you apprehensive about the transfer?" Q laughed sharply. "'Apprehensive' doesn't begin to describe it, Data. Try stark raving terror." Data frowned. "I do not understand. Why should you fear leaving a place where you feel that people dislike you?" "I don't *know* anybody there. At least you people are the devil I know. I chose to come to the Enterprise, you know." He remembered what Guinan had said, and decided to ignore it. At least he could preserve the illusion of having had free will. Besides, Guinan could well have lied. She was good at that. "Of all the mortal groups I've recently interacted with, I had the most hopes for this one. I thought... Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. But how many times am I going to get kicked out of something? The way things are going, I won't be at the starbase long, either. They'll throw me off it. You just watch." Data nodded. "Ah. You are experiencing the fear of abandonment." "Well, of course I am!" Q exploded. "My entire *species* threw me out, Data, I don't think it's unreasonable for me to want stability somewhere, is it?" "It is certainly understandable. Often humans will fear a potentially positive opportunity because it reminds them of a negative event they have previously experienced. It is obvious why you would fear being abandoned. But that is not the case here. Captain Picard is not abandoning you, Q. It is merely that the most appropriate place for you is not aboard the Enterprise." Data leaned forward slightly. "You say that we are 'the devil you know'. The fact that you know no one aboard Starbase 56 is not necessarily a disadvantage, however. It is an opportunity for a fresh start. Perhaps you will find that humans are not quite the devils you think them to be." "It still feels like Picard's kicking me out," Q muttered. "I am sorry you feel that way," Data said earnestly. "But I am sure your experiences will be more positive in a place where your past history will not unduly influence people's opinions of you." "Or in other words, among people I didn't throw tests at," Q murmured. He didn't much feel like continuing the argument. Maybe Data was right and things would be better there. He yawned and closed his eyes, leaning back against the chair's headrest. "You appear to be very tired. Perhaps you should go to bed." "I will. In a few minutes. I just want to sit and rest for a moment..." The red from the light made such interesting patterns against his closed eyelids. Why hadn't he noticed that before? Distantly he was aware of someone shaking him. He opened his eyes and mumbled something. Data was standing over him, looking concerned. "Q, you have fallen asleep. I think you would be more comfortable if you returned to your room. That chair is not designed for sleeping in." Had he been asleep? He had no awareness of having lost consciousness. He'd just closed his eyes, and then Data started shaking him. It was a tremendous effort to form words. "Mm. Guess so." The phrase came out slurred, sounding like "gssso" or something. "I will escort you back to your room." With an effort of will, Q woke himself up a bit. Was this how it felt to be truly tired? He wanted nothing more than to collapse in the chair and shut out the universe. "Won't be... you don't need to. I won't get lost." "Perhaps not, but it is unsafe for you to roam the Enterprise unescorted." "Troi said that too. What do you mean unsafe? I can hardly fall into the warp core by accident." Data hesitated. "There are members of the crew who lost friends and family to the Borg, in the encounter you provoked. They may well blame you for their loss. Starfleet personnel are trained to place personal feelings aside for the sake of duty... it would, however, be reckless to place undue burdens on people." Q hadn't considered that at all. And he should have, after the encounters with Nichols and Guinan, after being warned about Dr. Raskin. He was wasting much too much time fearing things that were normal for humans and ignoring real and present dangers to his well-being. Something else he had to be grateful to Data for. "Oh... I hadn't thought... I must be stupid with exhaustion. Thanks." He was barely aware of the trip back to his room. Without Data supporting him, he might not have made it, might have collapsed from exhaustion and curled up to sleep on the corridor floor. Through the haze of oncoming sleep, he was aware of Data helping him to bed. He tried to mutter another thanks, shamed at his own incompetence, but it was difficult to form words and it probably didn't matter anyway. The moment he hit the bed, sleep drowned him. So much for his first day of being human.