Only Human by Alara Rogers Part III: Yamato With minor revisions to the parts posted before, here is all of Only Human Chapter III. Paramount owns Q and the universe; I own the original characters. No copyright infringement is intended. Not to be sold for profit. ONLY HUMAN (for those who haven't caught the story thus far) is an alternate universe, based on the premise that Q lost his powers for good in "Deja Q." In exchange for protection, he offered the Federation the benefit of his advanced knowledge, and was transferred to Starbase 56. Three years later, miserable beyond endurance, Q attempted to kill himself. Dr. T'Laren, Vulcan xenopsychologist and former Starfleet counselor, turned up at this point, claiming that Starfleet had hired her as Q's therapist. In fact, it turned out that she was really hired by the Q Continuum, in the person of the Q who got Q thrown out, whom T'Laren refers to as Lhoviri. T'Laren persuaded Q to accept her help and allow her to counsel him through his depression. To that end, they left Starbase 56 on T'Laren's ship Ketaya-- a gift from Lhoviri, with some surprising capabilities-- and headed for the starship Yamato, which was currently hosting a physics conference. Over the course of the past weeks of travel, Q has come to trust T'Laren, more or less, though they've had some knock-down-drag-out fights in the process. At the end of Part II, Q decided that he no longer wanted to die. Part III details 's adventures at the scientific conference aboard the Yamato, T'Laren's problems as her somewhat shady past comes back to haunt her in the forms of her young sister-in-law and her former lover, and the ups and downs of Q and T'Laren's relations with one another. Section 14 also deals explicitly with sexual themes, though I consider it suitable for teens and mature Congresspersons (like Patrick Leahy, who opposed the CDA.) Note that elements of this chapter and previous ones contradict the Voyager episode "The Q and the Grey." I remain convinced that my version of the Continuum is more interesting than the vision we were presented with in that episode, and so I have not revised to fit that episode, as it's too stupid to be canon. :-) Parts I - III are all available at the following sites: FTP: ftp://ftp.netcom.com/pub/al/aleph/trek ftp://ftp.europa.com/outgoing/mercutio/alt.fan.q ftp://aviary.share.net/pub/startrek/tng Web: http://www.europa.com/~mercutio/Q.html http://aviary.share.net/~alara http://www1.mhv.net/~alara/ohtree.html Send comments to aleph@netcom.com. * * * People trickled in over the next several hours, but none of them were Roth, or anyone Q might be interested in making fun of-- although one of the humans, a Madeline LeBeau, was sufficiently and undeservedly arrogant to the point where Q noted her for later knocking down. At 1700 the conference broke up, people going off to discuss theories in private groups, do more research, or relax and have fun. With some startlement, Q realized that he was extremely hungry-- he hadn't had anything since he got up this morning, and hadn't really noticed until now. Well. He had no intention of going off to Ten-Forward to be lonely, and since Markow hated eating with other people and Roth wasn't here, there was no chance he'd get some company. He decided to check back at the room and see what T'Laren was doing. Much as he hated to admit it, he'd gotten rather used to eating with other people-- well, with her, anyway-- aboard Ketaya. As he left, Sovaz caught up with him. "Why are gravitational forces destroyed at the boundaries between universes?" she asked. Q marveled at her single-mindedness. "Haven't you anything better to do?" he asked. "No," Sovaz said seriously. "You demonstrated to the conference's satisfaction that the effect *occurs*, but any other physicist could have done that. You must have the ability to explain *why* that happens. Don't you?" "That depends on how much detail you want," Q said. A truly evil idea was occurring to him. "Listen, Sovaz, I'm off to get something to eat. Want to go with me and ask your questions?" "Certainly. They make a very tasty couscous at Ten-Forward--" "No, no no. We're not going there. I'm off stage now, I have no desire to continue to be a public spectacle." He turned to her, barely able to restrain a mischievous grin. "I'm going to my quarters for something to eat. Still want to come along?" "T'Laren will be there?" "Almost undoubtedly." Sovaz hesitated. "If I didn't go with you, would you still answer my questions?" "When I get around to it, the next time you catch me with nothing better to do, in a few days or so... sure, why not." For a Vulcan, Sovaz had lousy facial control-- or maybe Q had just gotten used to trying to read T'Laren. Her face changed, a scaled-down version of a human face falling. Then the mask slid into place. "If T'Laren is offended at my presence, that is her problem," Sovaz declared. "It's my job to learn all I can from the delegates." Q allowed the grin to break out on his face, briefly. "Delightful." He began to walk back toward the VIP quarters, wondering why they hadn't chosen a conference room closer to said quarters. "The most basic explanation I can give you is that the gravitational constant is tied into the definition of the universe far more so than the electromagnetic forces. Space is defined by the interaction of gravitons and locons, and time is defined as the interaction of chronatons with the other two. At least, to the perception of mortals- - we won't get into what it looks like when you can invert locons at will. But in any case, the point is that those three particles are actually more like threads, that the fabric of the universe is woven of. When you hit the boundary of the universe, the substrate that the gravitons propagate in, the gravitons can no longer propagate. It's like trying to make a sound in vacuum. There's nothing there to carry the wave. Does that help any?" "Does that also mean that time and space disappear outside the boundaries of the universe?" "Clever child. Yes, of course they do. But they leave behind a residual charge which makes it more likely that when you re-enter another universe, you'll come out in a similar time and space-- assuming of course that the other universe operates by the same physical laws. Now if you managed to get lost between the boundaries of the universes, you could completely lose all temporal and spatial charge and end up literally anywhere in space and time when you finally get through the barriers." "That's fascinating," Sovaz said, and appeared to mean it-- Q tended to use "fascinating" only in a sarcastic sense. "To me it's rather dull, if you want to know the truth," Q said. "It was interesting a few hundred millennia ago when I was first learning to manipulate all that, but nowadays my interests have taken a decidedly mundane turn. For instance. My understanding is that T'Laren used to be married to your brother? What's going on with that?" "As far as I know, nothing is going on," Sovaz said, a bit bewildered. "They are no longer bonded." "Right, but how did it happen? My understanding was that Vulcans don't go about divorcing each other every day of the week." "I don't understand what happened myself," Sovaz said, staring ahead at nothing. "Soram reported that T'Laren was dead. I don't see how her bondmate could be mistaken about such a thing, yet she is obviously not dead, so he *must* have been mistaken..." "How did they get together in the first place?" If T'Laren wouldn't tell him anything about her background, he'd go behind her back and get it. Sovaz considered. "They were bonded when I was very young, so I'm not entirely sure. But I believe what happened was that Soram requested a wife from the Marriage Registry--" "The Marriage Registry? Let me guess-- a Vulcan dating service?" The idea of a Vulcan dating service had to be one of the stranger things he'd heard in the past three years... "Not a dating service. If I understand it correctly, a dating service is where humans turn to be partnered with someone for companionship?" "One could phrase it that way, I suppose." "Vulcans do not casually seek companionship," Sovaz said seriously. "Most Vulcans are bonded to their future betrothed at the age of seven. But in some cases, the betrothed dies before the appointed time, and the person left unbonded must turn to the Marriage Registry to find another unbonded. In other cases-- for instance, my parents are progressives. They believed Soram and I should be free to make our own choices on adulthood. But Soram is a very strict traditionalist. As soon as he became old enough, he applied to the Marriage Registry for a wife. And as T'Laren had been raised on Earth, she too was unbonded, so the Registry partnered them, and our families thought the match would be a good idea. Soram was planning to go into Starfleet, where one needs to have dealings with humans, so having a wife experienced in human culture seemed logical. And T'Laren wished to learn Vulcan ways, so having a strict traditionalist husband seemed logical as well." "But things didn't work out as logically as planned, I take it." Sovaz made a semi-shrug. "They seemed to be working out adequately to me. But I confess I have no experience in matters of bonding. I have no explanation for what happened." "What *did* happen? As far as you know?" "I don't wish to violate T'Laren's privacy. If she meant for you to know, she likely would have told you." So the kid had some backbone after all. Q was genuinely beginning to like this girl. "Oh, T'Laren told me a few gazillion things. For instance, that she went nuts and tried to kill herself. So if *that's* what you're edging around, don't worry about it-- I already know." "She told you *that?*" Quickly Sovaz tried to regain her composure. "I... that is not the sort of thing most people tell anyone outside the family, or perhaps very close friends. I was under the impression that you were T'Laren's client." "Client. Oh, that's a good word. I like that one. Sounds so much better than 'patient.'" "But aren't you?" "Why? Does it matter?" "I wouldn't think... that she would share such personal information with a client." "Whatever works, kiddo. I assure you that T'Laren had what she believed to be good reasons to tell me what she did. Now. Is it true? *Is* that what happened?" "I don't know..." At that point they reached Q's quarters. Q imagined a look of relief on Sovaz's face, and grinned to himself. Any relief she felt had to be premature. He palmed open the door and went in. "Yoo-hoo! T'Laren! I hope you look passable, because I've brought us a dinner guest!" T'Laren stepped out of her bedroom and froze. Q could no longer restrain the grin. "She followed me home, Mom. Can I keep her?" The effort of will it took T'Laren to unfreeze was practically visible. "I'm rather tired, actually," she said. "I think I would prefer to go lie down." "I'm sure you would prefer it, but we can't always get what we want. Now are you going to be completely rude to my houseguest and set me a terrible example, or are you going to be a gracious little Vulcan?" For several seconds she stared at him, her face icily masklike. "Very well," she said finally. "You are entitled to invite what houseguests you desire. I shall be a gracious hostess." "You need not be concerned that I should shame you," Sovaz said; the cadences of her voice indicated that she was speaking Vulcan, and the translator was rendering it. "My business here is with Q. I am not concerned with you." "Oh, come on, folks," Q said cheerily. "Let's all *try* to get along here, shall we?" He plopped himself down on the couch. "T'Laren! Why don't you get us something to eat?" Much to his surprise, she turned toward the replicator, showing every sign of obeying. Belatedly he realized that he'd just given her an excuse to not confront Sovaz again. "Does artificial gravity disappear when one crosses the boundaries between universes?" Sovaz asked. "Depends on the method of generation. If you're using a graviton field, then sure-- gravitons are annihilated. But you're not likely to detect the effect, since it lasts less than a nanosecond in most crossings between universes. Since time is also annihilated, most boundary crossings are effectively instantaneous." "But if one got lost between universes, as you were talking about before. What then? Would the inhabitants of the lost ship still feel the passage of time, even though time had been annihilated? Or would it feel to them as if no time had passed?" "Hmm. You know, I've never seen a mortal get lost between the boundaries of the universes, so I really couldn't tell you. I know that a Q who gets lost perceives the passage of a form of subjective time, but then we have multiple temporal senses, and not all of them have anything to do with chronatons. I would suspect, mortal senses being as paltry as they are, that if mortals got lost outside time their mental functions would come to a screeching halt." T'Laren returned with plates of some kind of vegetable stew, and set them down in front of Q and Sovaz, silently. Q picked through his for a moment, then looked up. "Not all of us are root-suckers, my dear. Could you possibly arrange something a little bit more to the tastes of an omnivore?" "One would think that, in your desire to be a gracious host, you would avoid offending your vegetarian guest with the smell of meat," T'Laren said. Q grinned. Wonderful, she was fighting back. He had started to worry. "Well, let me ask," he said. "Sovaz! Would it bother you if a severely underweight omnivorous being who can't process vegetable protein as efficiently as animal and who is in obvious and desperate need of something to help build back his muscles to something remotely resembling normal fulfilled his nutritional requirements in your presence?" "It would be illogical to do otherwise," Sovaz said blandly. "I would not wish to be responsible for a human's lack of proper nutrition." "There, you see? *Some* Vulcan guests don't get offended by perfectly logical requests. Now why don't you get me something with a modicum of protein?" "Since I am hardly an expert on your desires, it might be best for you if you got it yourself," T'Laren retorted. Her voice was still cool and emotionless, but there was a faint edge to it-- it was a retort, all right. Q sighed ostentatiously. "*Very* well. *If* I must." He got up carefully-- he didn't want Sovaz to see him hurt himself by trying to stretch his body out too rapidly or bending his back wrong-- and walked over to the replicator. "Anything to drink, Sovaz?" "I'm rather fond of tomato juice," Sovaz offered. "Fine. One beef stew, one Tipharean bubble-juice with grape, and one tomato juice." He glanced over at T'Laren, who had retreated to a chair across the room and was watching him intently, sipping a glass of mineral water. "Done with your food already, T'Laren? Or did you hide the rest of that repulsive stew under the potted plant?" "Why would I wish to hide my stew under a potted plant?" T'Laren asked, doing a wonderful impression of Vulcan bewilderment at human non sequiturs. Sovaz glanced at T'Laren and then at Q. "Why *would* she wish to hide her stew under a potted plant? Is this a human custom?" "A very popular one," Q assured Sovaz. "Human children indulge in it all the time. When their mothers tell them to eat their food because of the starving children on Bajor, human children come up with some very ingenious methods of hiding the food. T'Laren, don't tell me *you* never hid your food under a napkin or fed it to the family dog! Come clean. You can tell us, we're all friends here." "It would be illogical to waste food," T'Laren said. "So? What's your point?" "On that topic," Sovaz said, "since it *would* be illogical to waste food and you apparently find your vegetable stew unpleasant, would you mind if I finished it?" "How much time have you been spending with Counselor Tris lately?" T'Laren asked Sovaz-- the first thing she'd said directly to the girl-- as Q sat down with his food and motioned for her to go ahead. "Why do you ask?" Sovaz countered. "It seems you have picked up some of his habits. Be cautious. Few humans are offended if you ask for their food, but other species can be." "Why would they be?" Sovaz asked. "If they do not wish to finish their food, why should it offend them that someone else should do so for them?" "Because-- and this is a very important point, Sovaz, so Pay Attention-- Aliens Are Not Logical," Q pronounced. "If it helps, put it to music and make a song of it. Aliens Are Not Logical. In fact, *no* one but Vulcans places any cultural emphasis on being logical. Aliens will get offended by the damnedest things. You want to hear a funny story?" "Assuming you are capable of telling one, by all means go ahead," T'Laren said. "Oh, this is a laugh a minute, I'm telling you. There's a race out in what you call the Gamma Quadrant, who call themselves the Sintisee. About fifty thousand years ago, a mutation changed the color of Sintisee hair, which was up to that point pretty uniformly blue. Now a race of Sintisee with *purple* hair emerged. You got that? Well, since the two groups first encountered one another about three thousand years ago, they've made all sorts of edicts on what it really *means* to have purple or blue hair. Mind you, biologically there's no difference between the two other than hair color, but at various times they have enslaved each other, conducted pogroms, exiled each other, or decided that the other was intellectually inferior. Learned treatises were written on why blueheads would never become engineers or scientists in a country dominated by purpleheads; in blueheaded countries, it was determined that purpleheads were naturally cruel and emotionally crippled and could never be allowed positions of power. Or vice versa, depending on the time and the place. I mean, it was just incredible." "And there is no difference between the two other than hair color?" "No biological difference. A lot of cultural differences from centuries of segregation. Anyway, one morning they all-- the entire planet-- woke up to find their hair a uniform bright green." "How did that happen?" Sovaz asked. Q rolled his eyes. "Take a wild guess, Sovaz." Sovaz looked confused. "I don't have enough information to hypothesize--" "He means he did it," T'Laren said. "Oh." Sovaz nodded. "So now their little prop had been kicked out from under them. There was no way to tell by *looking* at people whether they had been blueheads or purpleheads, since everyone had the same green hair color. And it was the same shade of green, too. Boring, but then science often is. So what do you think they did? Did they realize how silly the distinction had always been and live in peace and harmony forevermore?" "That would have been the logical solution," Sovaz said, "so I must assume that that is *not* what they did, since this is a story about alien illogic, right?" "Oh how right you are. No, they started trying to *empirically figure out* what color people's hair *used* to be. They used photo reference, they used speech patterns, they used aptitude tests-- *aptitude tests! *They took it into their heads that purpleheads were stupid or blueheads were intuitive and emotional, and *tested* people on that basis! Unbelievable! And *then--* this is what kills me-- they passed a law saying that everyone had to *dye their hair* back to its original color!" He was laughing as he remembered. He also remembered that there had been revolutions and pogroms, witchhunts for mis-dyed folk and the institution of entirely new prejudices, but he suspected the Vulcans wouldn't find all that nearly as funny as he had at the time. "Is that or is that not the funniest thing you've heard?" Sovaz blinked. "I find the whole story somewhat tragic, actually." Q sighed. "You would. The problem with you Vulcans is you have no sense of humor." "I'm sorry if I offended you," Sovaz said earnestly. "I'm sure a human would find your story very funny." "It depends on how well the human knew Q," T'Laren said. "Let's not start, ok?" All Q needed was for T'Laren to decide to go into a recitation of his crimes against the universe. Besides, he *still* thought it had been funny. "Would it be possible for me to have more stew?" Q scrutinized Sovaz. She was small and slender, just as she'd been ten minutes ago. "Three bowls of stew? You're going to get quite chunky, my girl. Better break out that holodeck exercise program." "You may of course have more stew," T'Laren said. "Q is probably unaware that your metabolism is still in its adolescent phase." "You mean she's still *growing? *Horrors! T'Laren, she's going to grow up to be as gawky as you!" "I am not still growing," Sovaz explained. "Not in terms of height. However, I have not yet completed the transition to maturity." "And yet you seem so worldly-wise." For several seconds Sovaz looked puzzled. "Oh! That is a joke, isn't it? Most sentients do not consider me worldly-wise." "Sure, Sovaz. Kill the joke, why don't you." "It really was a mercy killing," T'Laren said. "As defined by a Vulcan? Oh, I am cut to the quick. A Vulcan finds me unhumorous. What tragedy. What pain." "Since you did not disprove Dr. Markow's theory, do you believe it is possible that the singularity represents the after-effects of time travel?" Sovaz asked. Q stared for a second, trying to figure out if that was supposed to be a conversational save. He decided it wasn't, and glanced over at T'Laren, jerking a thumb toward Sovaz. "She get that from you?" "What?" "She never lets up, does she?" "I did come here to ask you questions about the singularity," Sovaz said, a tiny note of defensive reproof in her voice. "Oh, of course. By all means. Ask away." "I just did." "Did you now?" He considered. "Hmm, I guess you did. What do I think of Markow's theory?" "Yes. Do you believe it is possible?" "Possible? Sure. Likely? Not bloody. The odds of that singularity turning out to be caused by time travel are about equivalent to the odds of T'Laren standing up on the coffee table here and singing 'It's Not Easy Being Green.' *Possible*, sure, but I wouldn't bet money on it." "Can you explain why not?" "Not yet. If I could, I'd have shot him down in the conference. But..." He shrugged. "Working with time and space as many millions of years as I have, you get a feel for things. An intuition, if you will. Were I still in possession of all my powers, I could probably tell you exactly why the singularity is probably not caused by time travel-- but then, if I had my powers, all I'd have to do is scan the thing and I'd know just what *did* cause it. I just don't think the universe works that way. It *feels* wrong. And while my intuition is, I'm convinced, far more valuable than ten limited little mortals' experimental hypotheses, the rest of the conference doesn't see it that way. So I can't shoot down Markow's theory until I've figured out exactly why it's wrong." "Do you have a theory of your own?" "Dear child, of *course* I have a theory. I would be entirely remiss in my duties if I didn't have a theory." "But you haven't proposed it. What is your theory?" Q smiled broadly. "That would be telling." "But it is your *job* to tell what your theory is." "No, no, no. I assure you that that is not my job. *My* job is to shoot down everyone *else's* theory." "That makes no sense." "It makes perfect sense. You just don't realize it because of your basic misconception as to what this conference is about." Q stood up, placing his empty bowl on the coffee table, and paced. "I'm sure you think that the point to this conference is to discover the true nature of the singularity. Right?" "Well... yes, of course." "*That* is your first mistake. If the point was to discover the true nature of the singularity, they'd give me their fanciest equipment and hire me to stare at the readouts for oh, about three days. A week, tops. And then I would *tell* them, and they would know. No, that's not what the point here is. The point is to make all the top scientists in the Federation feel like they are doing something useful and contributing to the betterment of humanity-- and other sentiences in the Federation. It's Starfleet's solution to everything. Can't figure out which end is up? Form a committee. Somehow humans have gotten this notion into their heads that there is safety in numbers. If all the top scientists agree, it *must* be true. Never mind the glaring disproofs of that maxim-- you said you met Commander Data, right?" "Yes." "Everyone in the Federation's scientific community thought his creator was utterly wacko for believing he could build a sentient android. If it were true that majority opinion is always or even usually right, Data would likely not exist today. And yet he moves." He looked directly at Sovaz. "Did it ever occur to you to wonder why you, a junior officer, are the primary liaison between the conference and the ship? Why wasn't that job given to your superior, Commander Dhawan?" Sovaz considered. "I had thought it to be intended as a learning experience. Also, Commander Dhawan is herself participating in the conference. This would interfere with her ability to effectively moderate it." "I doubt it. No, I'll tell you the *real* reason, Sovaz. The real reason is that Dhawan is a raging egotist with a serious tact impairment." He grinned. "As a fellow sufferer of *that* particular affliction, I can sympathize. But the point is that she is incapable of managing this conference because she perceives it as a challenge to her competence, and she's right. If Starfleet really were concerned only with results, and truly didn't give a damn how they were obtained, this conference would be a genuine scientific endeavor rather than a three-ring circus. Morakh, for instance, does not deserve to be here. I've been accused of bigotry against Klingons, and I admit, I haven't a very high opinion of the species. But I don't think Morakh should be excluded because he's a Klingon; I think he should be excluded because he simply is not one of the Federation's top 40 physicists. There are probably Klingons brighter than he is, and the only Vulcan I've ever met who couldn't run rings around him mathematically is T'Laren over there." "Who do you think *should* be included?" Sovaz asked, puzzled. "About a fourth of the people that are actually here, tops. Roth, entertaining as he is, is not one of the Federation's best. Dhawan herself should be here; Markow should be here; I don't know about Elejani Baii. Milarca should not. LeBeau should not. Pergiun should not." "And you?" "I'm out of all of their leagues," Q said, grinning darkly. "If they *really* wanted to solve the problem, they should have hired me to come out here and solve it for them, like I said. In terms of merit, I certainly should be here. In terms of what this conference is actually about, I probably should not." "Q's cynicism must be taken with a grain of salt," T'Laren advised. "He may be very knowledgeable about physics, but he views all humanoid interaction through the filter of his own experience-- and his experience is with the worst of humanoid behavior. He has very little ability to give anyone the benefit of the doubt." "Difficult when there is no doubt to be benefited from," Q said. "Vulcans are often unable to comprehend the pettiness and stupidities of other humanoid races. I have no difficulty seeing humanoids' virtues, on the rare occasions when they display them; but I'm far better aware than Sovaz is of how stupid most people are." "I don't understand people," Sovaz confessed. "I understand Vulcans a bit better than I do most other kinds of people, but I don't really understand Vulcans either. I create a model in my head of what I believe a person will do, based on past experience, and then they do something completely contrary." She stood up, picking up her three empty bowls. "Physics is much easier." "Of course," Q said. "The underlying laws that govern the behavior of the universe are actually very, very simple. Sentient beings make themselves unnecessarily complicated. I firmly believe that the only way one can understand a sentient being's behavior is by analogizing their mental processes to one's own-- which has never worked for me; my mental processes are completely different from anyone else's." "That should serve as your model for arrogance, Sovaz," T'Laren said coolly. "In fact, Q's mental processes are entirely predictable using a model that assumes him to be human; he simply prefers to believe himself beyond anyone's ken." "*Entirely* predictable, dear doctor? I hardly think so." "Indeed. When you are not aware that I am predicting you, your behavior is entirely predictable. When you *are* aware, you typically become angry and do something random to demonstrate your unpredictability." The idea of being predictable did, in fact, make him angry-- but now that she had thrown down the gauntlet, he could *not* give her the reaction she'd predicted. So he laughed. "Oh, T'Laren, you're delightful," he said. He turned to Sovaz and said conspiratorially, "She's mad at me for inviting you here." "I cannot imagine why," Sovaz said. "I would very much like to know, though." She glanced at T'Laren, a sudden hard look on her face. "Well, T'Laren? You seem so interested in enlightening the child, perhaps you'd like to explain your own unusual behavior?" This was perfect. He watched T'Laren with barely concealed glee. T'Laren looked away, as if smoothing her mask in place. When she looked back at them, her face had the stillness of death, an unhealthy drained look-- not a mask rigidly holding emotion in check, but as if too much energy had been drained from it to show emotion. "Sovaz, I ask forgiveness," she said. "I cannot tell you why I chose suicide, nor why I behaved as I did earlier. The two are related, however. My weakness lingers, and I have not yet achieved full health." "These things are understood," Sovaz said. It sounded like a formal Vulcan phrase. In fact the whole exchange sounded like Vulcan platitudes, dancing around the terms of the actual offense. Q was annoyed. "You're just going to let her go with that?" he demanded of Sovaz. "After she humiliated you publicly the way she did?" Sovaz tilted an eyebrow at him. "Vulcans do not feel humiliated at the actions of others," she said. "T'Laren cannot shame me." "Right. Uh-huh. Sure." "This has been an enlightening conversation, Q," Sovaz said. "I thank you." Her own Vulcan mask was firmly in place. Q could only stare at her, mentally spluttering with frustration, as she nodded at T'Laren and left. "You *people!*" he burst out as she left. "You unutterably *infuriating people!*" "Infuriating because we will not cooperate in your little games?" T'Laren asked. "Infuriating because you won't stand up for what you feel, or admit to it, or apologize properly for hurting someone else, or *demand* a proper apology, or-- oh, you're just *unbelievable! *How did you manage to function for three thousand years as a society of emotional cripples?" "I think your definition of emotional cripple differs somewhat from mine," T'Laren said. "Yes, yours can include anyone except for you. I'm perfectly willing to admit that in my own way I am crippled-- though frankly I think I'm a lot better described as a social cripple; I *have* no problems expressing my emotions-- but you are not. In fact, it's your biggest problem, T'Laren. You're willing to go on and on about how I have all these problems, but what are you doing about your own?" "It is *not your place* to worry about my problems!" T'Laren said sharply. Her tone of voice was not one he'd ever heard from her-- controlled anger, deliberately released-- a tactic Picard had used often, but not something Q expected from a Vulcan. Q raised an eyebrow in surprise. T'Laren's usual reaction when she got angry was to go cold and totally Vulcan. This was something new. "Our relationship has never been reciprocal, Q. You are not my therapist, you are not qualified to *be* my therapist, and I have not requested your help. So stay *out* of my affairs." "I seem to have hit a nerve." "You seem to *have* far more nerve than sense," T'Laren retorted. "Why are you trying to antagonize me? Are you so terrified of your own need for friendship that you must destroy the entire rapport we've created?" "Make up your mind, T'Laren. One minute you're saying, 'No, we're not friends, I am your godlike psychologist and you must obey.' The next you're whining because I'm not being nice to you and I should play nice with my friends. Which is it?" "I never claimed to be a godlike psychologist," she said, and half-smiled. "That honor belongs exclusively to your brother, I'm afraid." "What, you trust *Lhoviri* and not *me? *What are you, *insane?*" "I was, when he found me," she said calmly. "T'Laren, how many times do I have to tell you this? You *can't trust Lhoviri*. Do I need to tattoo it on your forehead or something? He's *me*, six million years down the road. He's a malicious and untrustworthy bastard-- *I know*. He hides it better than I did, but he's older than I am, too." "So you're saying that you are a malicious and untrustworthy bastard, but I should trust you anyway?" "*I* don't have any powers. And yes. When I did, I was a malicious and untrustworthy bastard. I've learned a few things since, I think-- I hope-- and I'm *still* capable of being malicious and untrustworthy, but I'm also enormously grateful to you. Lhoviri isn't. He has no motivation to do anything nice for anyone." "So you never did anything nice for anyone. Even your fellow Q." "I didn't say that--" "You just did." "Look, you just don't *know* Lhoviri like I do!" "Indeed. You knew him so well you expected that he would be one of your champions, until you discovered that he was responsible for your being thrown out of the Continuum." Q drew in a sharp breath. "Cheap shot, T'Laren." "I learned from the best," T'Laren said coolly. Despite himself, Q smiled. "I seem to recall you had a talent for this the first time I met you," he said. "I didn't need to teach you much." He shook his head. "That's besides the point, though. You're right-- I thought I knew him, and he betrayed me. So obviously he's *worse* than I thought he was." "That doesn't follow. He might have betrayed you because he didn't have the cavalier attitude toward mortal lives that you had, and that you expect him to share. Or, as I've mentioned before, he might have betrayed you because he believed this was your last best chance for redemption. Either way, he has no particularly good reason to hurt me. And whether you want to accept it or not, Q, Lhoviri is responsible for my being here today. I owe him more than I am likely to be able to repay. I do *not* trust him, and he understands that I do not, because if I allowed myself to begin thinking that Lhoviri is interested in my personal welfare I would probably end up worshipping him. But I have not have the experience of knowing him and caring about him for several millennia and then have him betray me, no. This doesn't speak volumes about your objectivity in the situation, however." "Him saving your life doesn't speak volumes about *yours*, either." "True. But Lhoviri is not the point, and we've become sidetracked. The point is that you are attempting to interfere in my life, to equalize the balance of power between us by trying to practice guerrilla psychotherapy on me. It's not your job." "I never *said* it was my *job*," Q said. "My *job* is shooting down people's silly little theories. But you really are behaving like an idiot, you know." "What business is it of yours if I choose to behave like an idiot?" "Why *shouldn't* it be my business?" She sighed. "I have *explained* why it is not your business. We're going around in circles again." "Yes, circular arguments have always been the bane of our existence," he said lightly. It wasn't a terribly entertaining argument, either. T'Laren couldn't see how she was contradicting herself, and for once Q didn't feel like hashing it out with her. They weren't starting from the same reference point, he thought, and in order to get to the same reference point he was afraid he'd have to say too much. If T'Laren wasn't in a self-revelatory mood, he couldn't see why he should have to be the one to strip metaphorically nude. "Fine, I've got work to do anyway." He got up and headed for his room. "You do realize that we haven't resolved anything?" T'Laren called after him. "When do we ever?" he asked, and let the door to his room shut behind him. * * *