ONLY HUMAN CHP. II: KETAYA by Alara Rogers; published by Aleph Press The following is section 11 of 12 of ONLY HUMAN, my alternate universe Q novel. If you've missed any parts, the entire story is available through anonymous ftp at ftp.netcom.com, in the directory /pub/al/ aleph/trek, under the name HUMAN2.ZIP. HUMAN1.ZIP, the first chapter of this story, is also available there. The files are pkzipped using PKWARE's version 2.04g. Other sites where you can obtain the rest of this story: ftp://ftp.europa.com/outgoing/mercutio/alt.fan.q ftp://aviary.share.net/pub/startrek/incomplete http://www1.mhv.net/~alara/ohtree.html http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/Q.html http://aviary.share.net/~alara This is an alternate universe novel, and it's long. I mean *looong.* In this chapter and all future ones, we will learn things about the Continuum which are contradicted by the Voyager episode "The Q and the Grey". This is because that was a miserably bad episode which contradicted so much Q canon that I have decided that, for my purposes, it didn't happen. None of the "facts" about the Continuum established in that episode have any bearing on the Continuum background shown in Only Human. For those who have not read Chapter 1 and want to jump right in anyway, the story is based on the episode Deja Q, where Q lost his powers; except that in this alternate reality, he never got them back. It's been three years since then, and there have been some changes. In exchange for protection from various enemies he made while omnipotent, Q has been selling his services as a scientific advisor to the Federation for the past three years. He assisted the Federation in developing a weapon against the Borg; as a result, casualties were lighter at Wolf 359, and Picard didn't become Locutus, someone else did. On the other hand, recently Picard died when a plasma grenade fused his artificial heart. This know- ledge was the final straw to push an already-deeply-depressed-and- borderline-suicidal Q over the edge into a fairly nasty suicide attempt by drinking hydrochloric acid. Fortunately or unfortunately, Q survived, perhaps by the graces of his personal guardian angel/demon, the Q who got him kicked out of the Con- tinuum. This Q has "hired" a mortal psychologist for Q, a Vulcan woman named T'Laren who was raised on Earth (in Texas, to be precise.) Thus far, T'Laren is something of a mystery; we know that the other Q, whom she calls Lhoviri, saved her life and sanity and offered her something she could not refuse in exchange for taking on this assignment. Lhoviri also gave her a ship, called Ketaya, basically a luxury yacht with a souped-up engine. It is T'Laren's belief that Q's depression is in part caused by the fact that everyone on Starbase 56, where he's been living for the past three years, hates him, and that he needs to leave the base in order to recover. Though Q is not entirely sure he believes her-- he believes his depression is simply caused by the fact that he is, in com- parison to before, "blinded, maimed, exiled, and condemned to die--" he is willing at this point to try anything. As Chapter 2 opens, Ketaya has just left Starbase 56 with Q and T'Laren aboard. * * * She let Q sleep this time-- it was probably the first night in years that he'd gotten a decent night's sleep without the aid of sedatives. As a result, it was close to 0930 hours before he finally came onto the bridge, fully dressed and with defenses firmly in place. "I want to talk to you," he said abruptly. T'Laren stood. "Did you sleep well?" "Marvelously. I haven't slept this well without sedatives since the night we defeated the Borg. I didn't even wake up groggy. And that is what I want to talk to you about." He strode over and perched himself on the railing nearest her. "What did you do to me?" Her heart sank at his phrasing. She had used telepathic suggestion on him because it was the most effective way to get him to sleep, it was a lot less dangerous than sedatives and she didn't think there was any way he would figure it out. Q had an irrationally powerful phobia of telepathy-- if she had suggested that she use her telepathy to help him sleep, they would have been in an argument for another three hours, since Q was especially incapable of listening to reason when he was tired. If somehow he had figured it out, though, they were going to have the three-hour argument now. She could lie to him, she thought. For a Vulcan, she was remarkably good at lying-- in fact, for a human she was remarkably good at lying, though she hated to do it. But if somehow he saw through the lie, he might never trust her again. There would be an argument if she admitted the truth, and he would probably claim he couldn't trust her anymore, but that, at least, she could salvage. If she outright lied to him, and he found out, she might never recover. "I gave you a massage," she said calmly. "And I gave you a telepathic suggestion to help you sleep." Q stared at her, hard. "I'm surprised you're willing to admit it." "Why shouldn't I admit it? You wanted desperately to sleep." "And you took advantage of that to get access to my mind, didn't you." "That has to be one of the most outrageously paranoid things I've ever heard you say. I did not `get access' to your mind, Q. I admit I used my telepathy to suggest that you sleep. If you hadn't been exhausted and very much desirous of sleep, however, the suggestion would have had no effect whatsoever. I can't make you do anything against your will, and while I *can* read your mind, I would have had to meld with you to do so. The most I can sense without forming a mindmeld is general emotional state." "My, aren't we defensive." "Of course I'm defensive. You just accused me of one of the greatest crimes a Vulcan can commit. I believe I have the right to be defensive." Q shook his head. "To be quite honest, I believe you. But that doesn't change the fact that you invaded my mind without my permission--" "You *gave* me permission, Q. You were desperate for anything that would help you get to sleep." "And is a telepathic suggestion that great an improvement over a sedative? That's what *I* wanted." "You told me you awoke without grogginess. Sedatives depress your system even after you wake. Besides, as I've pointed out, sedatives are addictive. With a telepathic suggestion, your brain can't distinguish between the suggestion and its own impulses. Your brain develops the habit of falling asleep on what it believes to be its own--" "Then why did I imagine I heard your voice?" "You heard my voice?" "When I came down here, actually, I thought you'd hypnotized me or something. I distinctly remember you murmuring at me over and over to relax, to go to sleep. Did you do that?" "Not aloud." "Then how do you explain how I heard it?" "I don't know." That troubled her somewhat. Q was not a psi- sensitive; he shouldn't have been able to distinguish her suggestions from his own mental processes. "That doesn't normally happen. It could be that you have so much experience with psi, or something analogous to it. I've heard of non-psis, such as humans, learning to develop shields through close contact with telepaths. The fact that you used to be a psi within a psionic society--" "The Q Continuum is a bit more than a psionic society, T'Laren." "Yes, but the analogy holds." "All of this is off the point," Q said. "You claimed I gave you permission. I gave you no such thing. You didn't warn me you were going to touch my mind, and you didn't ask my permission. What you told me, in fact, was that you intended for me to put myself to sleep, which for obvious reasons I have a lot fewer problems with than having you do it." T'Laren allowed herself to sigh. "What was I supposed to do, Q? You wanted to go to sleep right then. You didn't want to discuss your nightmares, or meditate, or do anything constructive. You wanted to be asleep right then. The only thing I could think of to do was a telepathic suggestion." "Then why didn't you *ask* me?" "Because you'd have felt compelled to argue against it for three hours." To her surprise, Q grinned. "Probably. But I'd have lost in the end. I always lose arguments like that." "You weren't in any mood for a three-hour argument, and frankly, neither was I." "*Au contraire, chere docteur.* I'm always in the mood for a three-hour argument." Belatedly she realized that Q was actually not that angry. He seemed to be arguing mostly for the sake of argument. "Q, does any of this really bother you or are you just being difficult?" "Why, T'Laren, you wound me. Haven't I progressed beyond being difficult for the sake of being difficult?" "No." Q blinked in apparent surprise. "Oh. Well, I thought I had." "You were obviously mistaken." "I'm not just-- All right. You want me to be serious? I'll be deadly serious." His voice lost all joking tone. "I don't like having you touch my mind, T'Laren. Ever. You did it for my benefit; fine, I believe you. But you didn't ask my permission and you didn't warn me. I think I have the right to feel just a little bit betrayed over that. Especially since you knew I don't like you being inside my head." "I can understand why you wouldn't want your mind read, Q. I can even understand why you wouldn't want me giving you suggestions all the time. And I can understand why you feel that I should have warned you. But try to look at it from my perspective. You are irrational on the subject of telepathy, and also irrational on the subject of sleep, and predisposed to be at your most stubborn and unreasonable when you're tired. I could have told you what I planned, we would have argued in circles for hours, and in the end either I would have won the argument, or you would have slept badly and demanded sedatives again today. I've told you before, you cannot entirely be trusted to know what your own best interests are." "And so you treat me like a child? Lie to me, to make me do what you want? `This won't hurt a bit, Q.' Is that it?" "When you behave irrationally as a child, I have no choice-- " "T'Laren," he interrupted, "I trust you about as much as it's possible for me to trust another sentient being, I suspect. But that trust does *not* extend to letting you make free with my mind. What is irrational about not wanting a telepath in my head? You say this was for my benefit. What if I'm depressed, and you feel it's for my benefit that you artificially alter my mood? What if I'm grieving over what I've lost again, and you think it would help me if you conditioned me not to think of my loss at all? I could have been a non-sentient animal, you know. I could have led a happy, stupid animal life, in blissful ignorance of what I used to be. That isn't what I chose. And no one else has the right to choose that for me." T'Laren stared at him. "Q, I would *never* do such a thing-- you're entirely right. No one has the right to choose that for you. I would never dream of trying. That would be-- tantamount to putting you on drugs, or sending you to a rehab colony. To deprive a person of their free will by telepathically altering their mind is one of the worst things any Vulcan can imagine doing. You know that Vulcans die if sent to rehab colonies? We can't bear having our minds forcibly altered any more than you can. I-- no." "You've never used your telepathy that way. Never altered a person's mind against their will." Against her will, T'Laren remembered Melor. "Once," she said softly. "To save my life. And I have never stopped regretting it." "Really. What happened?" T'Laren shook her head. "It was when I was undercover in the Romulan Empire. I was forced to remove a man's memories of discovering that I was Vulcan." She had no intention of telling Q precisely how she'd accomplished that, or why Melor had believed her enough to make himself vulnerable. Not only was it a story that shamed her, it was an aspect of her character that Q of all people should never find out. "All right." Q nodded. "That sounds like a legitimate reason to do such a thing. I just--" He took a deep breath. "I know I can be irrational on this topic. There's nothing I can do about that. It isn't even the idea of having my mind read-- I'm sure my own people read my mind frequently. I'm primarily afraid of having my mind influenced." "Why?" Immediately T'Laren realized that was poor phrasing. "I don't mean why-- I can easily understand why you fear having your mind influenced. I would, too. But why is it such a priority in your mind? You seem to fear this worse than... many more immediate fears. You've told me that the thing you most had to fear as a Q was having your mind influenced by the other Q. But you're human now. You're a solitary being, not part of an overmind. Having your mind influenced is not going to happen very often; I would think it would be a low-priority fear." "Let me tell you a little story, T'Laren. Maybe this will help you understand." He got up and began to pace about, illustrating his story with hand gestures. "You're familiar with Earth mythology, fairy tales and whatnot? Good. Let's say you're the prince of a small kingdom. This is in some indeterminate once-upon-a-time era. And when you were born, an old gypsy woman made a prophecy that you could only be killed by a bear. "Bears used to be a protected species, but no longer! Your father the king declares open season on bears. Bear hunters make fortunes selling bearskin rugs, bear meat, bear coats, all that. So by the time you grow to adulthood, bears are pretty rare. Now, you live with the fear that you might run into one one day, but it seems pretty remote. You've never actually seen a bear. And you have utter confidence that nothing else can kill you. "You become a renowned warrior, unstoppable in battle. You take risks no one else would dare, but then, you've no reason to be afraid-- after all, your opponents aren't bears. And you do good works. You save babies from burning buildings, swim out to sea to save drowning men, all that. You're known far and wide for your bravery. Of course, it isn't bravery-- you *know* that anything that isn't a bear presents you about as much threat as a cream puff. Less. People have choked on cream puffs. "Then one day you make a startling discovery. That old gypsy woman was a complete charlatan! She had as much psychic ability as a lima bean. See, her husband was a bear hunter. She's filthy rich now from dead bears, and she's run to another kingdom, and you hear that she confessed that she made the prophecy up. Actually, anything can kill you. "Overnight, you turn into a sniveling coward. You spent your life fearing nothing but bears. Now you fear *everything*, because you never learned how to handle fear. Now you know that fire can kill you, and drowning can kill you, and warriors-- oh, yes, they can certainly kill you. You're terrified of the entire world. "But-- even now-- especially of bears." T'Laren raised an eyebrow. "Did you make that up, or is that a myth somewhere?" "I made it up. Although it could very well be a myth I learned somewhere, and I just don't remember it." "It's a good analogy," she said. "I suspect it oversimplifies a bit--" "All analogies do that." "--but it does help to explain how you feel. However. What if for some reason you needed to rely on a bear to save your life?" Q considered. "I'm phobic, not stupid," he said. "If you needed to mindmeld with me to save my life-- I'd agree. I wouldn't like it, but I'd agree." "I'm glad to hear that," she said. "You may find this reassuring, Q. Or perhaps not-- but knowing you, I suspect you will. Do you understand what a mindmeld entails?" "It's telepathy. More than that. It's a merging of minds, isn't it?" "Yes. It's also a learned skill-- while all Vulcans are born with the ability, and all can form simple links with other willing Vulcans, it takes a great deal of skill and training to meld with an alien, or an unwilling or frightened subject. This is primarily because the mindmeld involves merging minds, becoming the other. A Vulcan needs an unshakable sense of self, a willingness to accept the unknown, or a great deal of training, to prevent her mind being submerged in her meld partner's, her own personality subsumed. I've trained in that for over 30 years- - I'm a very good telepath, with a great deal of experience at melding with aliens. And I wouldn't risk melding with you unless it was an emergency, because I suspect your personality would overwhelm mine." "Really." "Yes. You've trained in overwhelming others' minds for the past few million years. I suspect your force of personality is such that others would be easily absorbed into you, or destroyed by you as a defense." "But you're a psi. I'm not." "That only says who can initiate a meld, not who has the more powerful personality. You may be as vulnerable to having your mind read by distance telepaths as any human-- but I think any Vulcan who tried to meld with you would be risking their sanity." "You're right. I do find that reassuring." "And that's the basic nature of the problem, isn't it? You fear intimacy, and feel reassured by the fact that you would probably take over any mind that joined with yours. In the society you grew up in, that was a survival skill. Intimacy meant danger, in a society where it was the default. But now that you've been deprived of it, you do need it, as much as humans need independence. In fact, having taken it for granted all your life, you may in some ways need it more. And yet you haven't been able to adjust your behavior to compensate yet. You're now a member of a species whose social defaults are the opposite of what you spent millions of years learning-- and so you resist mental intimacy, you resist all but the most superficial of emotional connections, because you have not yet realized that emotional closeness is no longer dangerous to you. You're still afraid of bears." "Yes, I know. What's your point?" "Do you understand that it's a problem?" "Of course I understand that it's a problem. Haven't we spent the last three weeks hashing out how it's a problem?" "You didn't understand that it was a problem when we began this trip," T'Laren said. "You agreed to come with me because you couldn't think of anything else that might help, not because you truly understood what needed to be fixed." Q frowned slightly, evidently thinking about it. "Maybe so." "That's an achievement, at least." She leaned forward. "And something else you should realize. I can't make you do anything against your will. I cannot telepathically compel you to fall asleep if you don't really want to. If I tried, I would have to form a meld, and I've just explained why I wouldn't dare do that outside of emergencies. I'm not a bear, Q. You have no reason to fear me." He sighed. "Ask my permission first, at least." "Would you have granted it?" T'Laren asked. "Would you grant it now, if the same situation arose?" "If I was desperate, yes." "It takes desperation for you to realize what you need, doesn't it." "I wouldn't have come with you in the first place if I wasn't desperate." And so he would only admit to a need if he were desperate? And then only if offered a solution? Q had, in the past, occasionally tried to find constructive solutions to his problems by reaching out to others for information or aid-- such as asking Sekal about the Vulcan disciplines-- but for the most part he tried to solve everything himself, or else assumed it couldn't be solved and resigned himself to it. She wasn't sure he had come far enough to admit needs even to her unless she dragged the admission out of him. Which meant she would have to be diligent about dragging admissions out of him, and that brought her in roundabout fashion to a topic she'd been meaning to discuss with him for weeks, and which he'd diligently avoided.