Okay. My primary interest in the Star Trek fandom is Q. He's pretty much the only element of the pantheon that I have any knowledge of, so you'll have to forgive the glaring mistakes you'll undoubtedly find here regarding the Star Trek universe. I just got kind of hooked on him recently, and I had to write something to get it out of my system. I've read anything I could get my hands on around him, which isn't much, I'll grant you. This is primarily a Q/Picard story, but it takes 'The Q and the Grey' and 'Q2' into account. Enjoy.
"Fair Maiden's Honour"
Chapter 1
"Captain."
Picard turned towards the viewscreen, warned by a note of urgency in Data's voice that something was amiss. It took a moment for what he saw to make sense to him, but once it did he was hard pressed to restrain a gasp. Deanna wasn't so restrained.
"Captain!" she exclaimed, standing. Will was at her side in an instant, the pair of them standing behind him as they looked out on a sight they hadn't seen in a decade. The barrier constructed itself before the Enterprise exacty as it had done years before, Data automatically halting the ship to prevent collision. Blue energy crackled between the red 'blocks' that formed the wall, enclosing Enterprise in a sphere as soon as their forward movement stopped. The scene was horribly familiar, a reminder of one of their first trials. Picard felt a bubble of apprehension rise in his chest. For all he had come to respect, and even tentatively trust, the entity responsible for this, it was no good omen. In only two instances had this enclosure been used against them, and neither had been good.
"Q!" he called, knowing that the entity was there. He just hadn't revealed himself. "Q? What's this about, Q?"
"What do you think, mon capitaine?" a voice drawled coldly. Picard turned, anger and apprehension warring in him. Then, seeing the entity lounging insolently in his chair, the captain's chair, the anger leapt to the fore.
"Q!" he snapped. "Get up! What the devil do you think you're up to now!?" He ranged himself over the other 'man', stance automatically combative. Q only smirked, rolling his eyes in faux exasperation.
"Now now, mon capitaine! Where are your manners?"
"What do you want, Q?" Riker spoke up coolly, adding his height and bearing to the captain's stand. Will's relationship with this being had never been comfortable, and he'd never had the experiences that Picard and Q had shared, experiences that had led to a thaw, however slight, in their antagonism. But Picard was glad of the support. There was something ... off ... about Q. His pose was wrong. When Q lounged, he lounged, draping himself over whatever surface was available as if gravity and all sense of propriety were things that only troubled lesser beings. Which was true, to a degree. This time there was tension under the relaxed sprawl, a sense of coiled energy snapping to be released. It made Picard uneasy.
"What do I want?" Q repeated, as if pondering the question. "What do I want?" He stood in one smooth move, zoning in on Picard, stepping provocatively into the captain's personal space and leaning in until his mouth was poised beside Picard's ear. "Why, you, Jean-Luc," he whispered.
Picard snapped back, standing on Will's foot in the process. He shouldn't have. He was more or less used to Q's disregard for human conventions of distance and politeness, for the entity's gratuitous use of innuendo. But that wasn't what bothered him. Usually such utterances came with mocking pretense of sincerity, a sense of levity, or waspish reflex to some imagined slight. Not this ... hunger, this bitter seriousness. This wasn't some playful attempt to unsettle Picard. There was something deeper agenda here. And Picard didn't like it.
"Q!" he barked, reproach and warning in his voice. He settled warily on the balls of his feet, a sudden adrenalin surge urging fight or flight. A ridiculous urge. There was nowhere he could go that Q couldn't find instantly, and to think of fighting the entity ...ridiculous. But it was instinct, something in the other's stance prompting the age-old response to danger. Troi picked it up, Will not far behind her. The security officer was already in combat stance.
"Q, what is this?" Picard demanded harshly. "What do you really want?!"
The entity tipped his head to one side consideringly, and smiled. A hard smile, cold and somehow emotionless. It looked wrong on the mobile face. Q's moods were quick and mercurial, flashes of heat and temper. Cold menace wasn't him.
Q shifted, prowling towards him, movements tight and economical, no trace of his usual flamboyance. Picard fought the urge to back away again. It served no purpose. The entity stopped an inch away from him, ignoring Riker's move to the captain's shoulder in response. The dark eyes bored into him, and Picard frowned. Something was there, something he could just sense, but couldn't pin. This was wrong. There was an edge of ... unreality to it, something false. Of course, with Q so many things were false, but ...
"I want you, Jean-Luc," the entity stated, almost a command. "I'm tired of waiting. I want you, and I'm going to have you. I want you on your knees, I want to use you until the convulsions of your feeble human body become your death throes, and I want it now. I want to take you here, in front of your precious crew, and I want you to submit to me. And I will have what I want, Jean-Luc. Make no mistake."
Picard stared. At first, all he felt was shock, and then a vast sense of disbelief washed over him. The feeling of unreality lanced through him again, a disconnected-ness. This simply wasn't happening. In no universe would Q make such a demand. It simply wasn't possible. With that thought, a laugh bubbled up in his throat, incredulous and demanding to be released. And he couldn't hold it. It spilled out of him, harsh and unbelieving, right in Q's face, an inch away. It was all the entity needed.
In a blink Picard was locked against the viewer, invisible arms clamping his limbs cruelly, pinning him spread-eagled. Another instant, a burst of white light, and he was unclothed.
Shocked stillness reigned for all of a second, then Security was leaping for Q's back, phaser out but held as a club. The entity span, hands flashing up, and the hapless man was blasted back over the control panel. Enraged, incomprehending, his security officer struggled back to his feet, a beastial snarl on his face, and prepared to leap again. Picard felt the instant slow, time taking on the consistency of treacle as he moved and Q raised one hand, a cruel smirk on his face, and in that eternal instant Jean-Luc understood that Q meant it. With a wave of his hand, Q would kill the man, or worse, and nothing they could do would prevent it. Q meant it.
The moment shattered, shards of it falling around Picard as he barked out a hoarse, desperate command. "HOLD! HOLD, OFFICER!" The man's leap had begun, fury still etching his features, and Picard knew a moment's panicked horror, when Geordi tackled him from behind. They spilled to the floor behind the panel, temporarily safe. Picard gasped out a sigh of relief, ignoring the man's roar of stunned rage. And Q turned back to him.
Their gazes locked, power coursing into Picard from that stare, fierce and possessive and desperate. Internally, Jean-Luc shrank from it, pulling back to try and regain inner command of his situation. He was shaken down to the bone. It happened so fast. Moments from the first sight of the barrier, to Q's impossible declaration, to this untenable situation. He had to withdraw, to view this objectively, to regain his balance. But the speed of it, the wrongness of it, wouldn't release him. He'd seen Q angry, seen him desperate, seen him threatening. Never had he seen the entity like this. There was no avenue of action, no escape, no test. Only the threat and the demand. Only in their first meeting had he thought Q capable of this, before the first test, when there had only been the trial and the threat of death if he did not plead guilty. But even then he'd somehow known that the entity could be reasoned with. Not here. Not now.
He stared at the poised figure. It looked like Q. That face, with its mobile features, that liquid, expressive voice, the costume of a Starfleet captain, all fit his memories of the mercurial entity. But the stance, the body language, did not. There was a leashed energy there that Q had never had. Q's boundless energy was expressed in constant movement, in parlour tricks and gestures, in flamboyant speech and dramatic flair. For all that they had known his power, for all his constant demonstrations of it, Q had seemed more exasperating than overtly threatening. A cosmic trickster, with wisdom disguised under facetious innuendo, an omnipotent Shakespearean Fool. Not this ... this predator.
His mind shied away from the thought. On Earth, throughout history, there'd been more than one kind of predator. Q's demand, which he'd been trying to ignore, ripped through him, reminding him of his incredibly vunerable position. He was naked, exposed, hung on a wall for the entity's viewing pleasure, and that entity wanted ... what? To rape him? To force him? Why?
"Q ... What's happened, Q? What's wrong?" he asked, unable to fully disguise the desperation in his own voice. "If you'd just tell us, perhaps we could ..."
In a flash, Q was in front of him. No. Right up against him, dark eyes glimmering with sadistic amusement. Q's lips brushed his ear, and Jean-Luc shuddered. Will moved towards them convulsively. Deanna had her fists clenched at her sides, tears in her eyes, and Geordi was struggling desperately to hold Security down. Data was still, but poised to move at the slightest opportunity. Picard warned them silently to be still, desperate, knowing that Q would hurt them if they tried to interfere.
"Perhaps you could what, mon capitaine?" the entity whispered, tracing a finger possessively over Jean-Luc's jaw. "Help me?" A dark chuckle. "Now why, Jean-Luc, would you want to do that? What have I ever done for you? Do tell, mon capitaine. Explain to me why you should wish to aid little old me."
Picard swallowed. Was that it? His way out? Did Q simply wish to know they understood all he'd done? Was this simply his pride demanding that they acknowledge him? But no. Looking into that cruel gaze, he knew this was something more. Whatever this Q wanted, it was unpleasant, and while there was little he wouldn't offer of himself to keep his crew safe, that did not mean he would play this game any more than he had to.
"You know that I understand what you've done for us, Q," he said as calmly as possible, meeting that hungry stare. "What do you want?"
For a moment Q stared back, considering, then his eyes hardened. He stepped back, turning suddenly to wave his hand over the others. Jean-luc started, straining in his bonds, a hoarse yell escaping. "Q!" Light flashed, blinding him momentarily. When his sight cleared, he looked around desperately for his crew. He found them, standing exactly as they had been before, and he sagged slightly in relief. It didn't last long, though. Will looked at him desperately, something approaching panic in his eyes.
"Captain," he gasped. "I can't move!"
"Of course you can't, you pathetic piece of pre-evolutionary flotsam," Q snarled. "I can't have you interfering."
"Interfering?" Picard asked sharply. "With what?"
Q turned back to face him, that cold smile back on his face. He reached out, tracing his hand along the centre of Picard's chest, and lower. His eyes followed the touch possessively, then flashed up to the captain's face, and away again, almost coyly. A vicious smirk appeared as he grabbed down, and squeezed. Jean-Luc bit back a hoarse scream of shock and violation. Deanna cried out, anguish in her voice. "Captain!"
Q looked back up, releasing him again. "Why, with your 'seduction', Jean-Luc," he laughed softly, his tone twisting that word into something terrible. Raw horror rippled through his victim, peaking as the entity raised a hand slowly and exaggeratedly to snap his fingers.
Before Q's next 'parlour trick' could manifest, though, a shudder ripped through the ship, knocking the entity to one side. Staggering to regain his balance, Q looked up, past Picard, into the viewer. Whatever he saw caused a tide of rage and anticipation to flow over his features, and Picard strained to see behind him.
"Captain!" Data called. "Something is attacking Q's forcefield. It's on the verge of collapse!"
"No it's not!" Q snapped back, sharply, and snapped his fingers. Picard felt hope fall a little, but not die. Someone powerful enough to damage Q's shield was trying to interfere. At the very least, Q would have to focus on fighting them. There was a reprieve. But he couldn't count solely on this 'rescuer'. He had to help.
"Is it the Continuum, Q?" he called mockingly. "Have they come to punish you again?" Q snarled, hand flashing at him. Some force ripped Picard away from the viewer and tossed him behind Q. He fetched up at the foot of his chair, next to Will, who glanced down at him desperately. He shook his head breathlessly, knowing no more what to do than Will did. Then he looked back at the entity poised before the viewer, stance ready and anticipatory as any Klingon.
"Oh, no, Jean-Luc," he whispered laughingly. "Not the Continuum. A sole Q, renegade. No match for me. Don't get your hopes up, mon capitaine. I am the most powerful of the Q. This little upstart hasn't a hope."
Picard frowned. Wrongness again. Q had never made mention of comparative power levels amongst the Q before, and the real fear he had showed before when speaking of the Continuum made doubtful any such claim to dominance. Their Q simply wasn't that confident in his ability to stand up to a being as powerful as he, or more. When he'd been human, everything scared him. If there were levels of power among the Q, their Q would not be an agressor. He was simply too cowardly, or cautious, if you wanted to be polite about it.
Picard switched his attention to the 'enemy' onscreen, wanting to weigh up the force ranged against Q. The barrier was rippling, bulging inward at one massive point, the blue energy flashing angrily. Then Q shifted, and the shield flexed outward against the invading force. For a moment, Picard saw an energy sphere, like the one that had persued them the first time, being thrown back from Q's defense. Definitely another Q, then. But why would a single Q want to protect them? Or even interfere? If they wanted to attack Q, they could wait until he'd done, was moving on, and thus more vunerable. It made no tactical sense to attack while Q had such a powerful defense in place. Unless they had another objective. Unless they were trying to interfere specifically with what Q was doing now. But why would another Q want to do that?
He felt the edge of a thought, the edge of understanding. That was the question, all right. There was something about the answer to that question that would tell him what was going on.
Q, apparently satisfied that his enemy had been repulsed for now, turned back to him, intimidation in every line of him, but Jean-Luc was calmer now. He had a path of inquiry to persue, a plan of action in a way, and he was now in his element. Creative problem solving was part and parcel of his mission. This was simply a more personal and potentially deadly problem than most. Since he had no way to directly take on an entity this powerful, he had to find a way to discomfit him, to delay the inevitable until this other entity, who could fight, got through. That meant drawing him out, trying to find the root of the encounter.
"Who is he, Q?" he asked calmly. "Why is he hunting you?"
"He is not!" Q spat. "No-one hunts me! No-one!"
Touch. Arrogance, but desperate. Maybe no-one had hunted him before, but they were doing it now, and that frightened Q. But that didn't make sense either, because Q had been hunted. Picard had been there! The Calamarain had hunted him, had almost killed him. Q knew what it was to be hunted. Admittedly, not as himself, as an all-powerful entity who could reshape reality at will, but still. He felt the edge of understanding again, an insistant prodding in the back of his mind that there was an incredibly simple answer to this, if only he could see it.
"Q ..." he began.
"Stop calling me that!" the entity roared, striding over to him and hauling him to his feet. Physically. With the approximation of human hands the entity had made for himself. Wrong again. Q touched people, moved into personal space on a regular basis, had apparently no conception of inappropriate contact, but when angry he drew back to attack with his powers. But the reaction to the name tilted Picard off balance. Q himself had told him that was how they may address him, that it was the name of both his species, and the individuals within it. Why ...
"Be silent, you pathetic little mortal," Q hissed. "You think I can't see every little thought in your head? I'm here for one reason, and I'll stand no more procrastination! You're mine, I want you, and you're going to submit, or I will destroy each and every member of your precious crew in ways too terrible for a mortal mind to encompass! Now on your knees!" He dropped Picard unceremoniously, glancing behind him only once to check the viewer. There was no sign of the other Q.
Picard squeezed his eyes shut. There was no more time. He couldn't allow his crew to be killed simply because he didn't want to be used that way. He had no choice. There was no point in making the entity angrier, and if he lived he could always pick up the pieces later.
"Captain," Deanna whispered, voice strangled. He wanted to comfort her. He was furious at Q for doing this where she could feel it. In doing so, the entity was violating both of them. But he forced it down, blanking his mind in preparation to endure. And in that moment, as he surrendered his frantic thoughts, as his mind calmed, the answer flashed to the fore. If Q didn't act like Q ...
He opened his eyes, and smiled up at the entity, challenge and promise of retribution in his eyes. The entity withdrew slightly, uneasy suddenly. And with reason. Picard grinned at him. "Q's not going to be happy about this," he murmured. "And I would never underestimate him. He's coming."
"Shut up," the entity snapped.
"It doesn't matter how much stronger than him you are," Picard went on mercilessly. "He doesn't get what he wants by strength. He's the trickster. You don't know what he'll do."
"I said shut up!" In a flash, Picard was braced against his chair, open and vunerable. He drew into himself, as ready as it was possible for him to be for this. Q was coming. He could endure until then. Their Q was coming. And he was not happy.
Q, for it was undoubtedly a Q, drew back behind him, poised to plunge, and he tensed against the expectation of intrusion, sudden panic racing back through him. He couldn't handle this. He just couldn't ...
And you never have to, mon capitaine. Not from him. He will never touch you.
White light flashed around him, a furious burst that flung the entity forcibly away from him, but it wasn't like before. It wasn't a manifestation of Q's will. It was Q. He could feel the entity around him, holding him. Protecting him. His Q.
The light faded. He was standing again, fully clothed. He stumbled, and an arm caught him about the shoulders, holding him up. He stiffened, looking up quickly. His eyes met deep brown ones, creased at the corners with concern, glimmering with fury. Q looked down at him, a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Careful, mon capitaine," he admonished gently. "Attention on deck!"
He sighed, the force of it like a shudder through him. For a bare moment, he closed his eyes again and leaned his forehead on the other's shoulder. He felt Q stiffen, a tremor running through the tall frame, and his head shot up, glaring around in search of their enemy. Q tightened his arm around him, then stepped away to one side, automatically putting Picard behind him. At the moment, the captain was too shaken to object.
He stepped back, sinking down into his chair. In a moment, Will sat next to him, Deanna with him. He started, looking questioningly at them. They were no longer bound? Will shook his head. Deanna, tears glimmering in her eyes, only clasped his hand. Q had freed them.
"I repulsed you!" the stranger barked, incredulously. "You can't be here! There's no way you could challenge that shield!"
"Must you always be so linear?" Q mocked. Jean-Luc smiled slightly at that. "To coin one of the more barbaric human phrases, there's more than one way to skin a cat."
"Impossible!"
Q rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Oh please. Yes, your shield was impenetrable. Yes, you repulsed me. No, I couldn't break through. So," and he shook his head in disappointment, "I didn't break it. I just ... sidestepped it. Simple, really."
"Impossible!" the other entity spluttered.
"You're repeating yourself, darling," their Q smirked. "I didn't alter your shield. I just altered the reality around it. If you can't move an object within the confines of the universe, then move the universe. Really, how much more elementary must it be before your feeble mind can grasp it?"
Picard stared at the pair of entities squaring off on his bridge. Q on one side, poised even now in a dramatic pose of readiness, his doppleganger on the other, taunt and ready for battle. There was incredible tension between them, as sense of power radiating from opposing sources and clashing in the middle. The other Q was more concentrated and compact, the focused and desperate personality that had revealed him as a fraud, while Q seemed more nebulous, shifting and unpredictable. The sense of it awed Picard.
"Captain?" Deanna asked softly. He turned to look at her.
"I ... I can feel them," he whispered, wonderingly. She nodded.
"So," Q challenged softly. His opponent tensed. "Why are you here, Q? I didn't think even you were this foolish. Did you really think you could pull it off? That form is so not your style. It requires someone with ... pzazz. You're simply not up to it, I'm afraid."
"You can't beat me!" the other snapped. Q smirked, tossing his head provocatively.
"Bet?"
"You lunatic insurgent! Don't you see what you've done, Q? You've tainted the Continuum! You with your pathetic humanity! It's their fault! The war is their fault!"
"No!" Q snapped back. "The war was the Continuum's fault. It had it coming! We'd become too stagnant, too repressed and too boring. We were dying! Humanity only showed me that now was the time. Humanity and Q! So don't get on your moral high horse with me, Q! Even at my worst, I never tormented an individual like this! My tests always had purpose. What is this besides a petty revenge!"
"You're one to talk!"
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm all for revenge, if it doesn't get me hurt. But you were the voice of judgement. You were the one who sentanced me to death by humanity for interfering with species. You were the one who argued for non-interferance, and for treating mortals well! The hypocrisy! For that alone, I'd strike at you. But," and here Q's voice dropped a couple of registers, into something deep and profoundly menacing, "you chose humanity to torment. More, you chose this crew. They are mine. Humanity is mine, and these most of all! Did you truly think for one moment that I'd let you harm them!?"
"Let me harm them?" his opponent asked slowly, disbelievingly. The expression that crawled across his face was something between confusion and outright disgust. "Just how close have you gotten to these creatures? But no. Don't tell me. I know. And it's disgusting! You want to fight for his honour? Not survival? His honour. Look what you've become! His paramour!"
"Now hold on a minute!" Q exclaimed.
"NO!" the doppelganger roared, apoplectic. "You taught him your name! You traitor!!"
Q froze. He glanced quickly at Picard, stunned. "What?" he asked, very quietly.
"He called this form by your name! He knew that it wasn't you who wore it! He called me Q!"
"He calls all of us Q," Q tried to explain. "They don't see the differenciation."
"But he did!" The entity strode up to Q, his physical form spitting in fury. "He called you. The flavour of your essence was in his mind and voice as he spoke your name. Traitor! You gave a mortal the key to your essence! You gave yourself to him!"
Q turned away from him, to look at Picard. He looked ... shocked, afraid, and hopeful. He moved towards them, slowly, tentatively. "Jean-Luc? Mon capitaine? Is this true?"
Jean-Luc paused. He felt a sudden chill. Before, he'd been shocked, horrified, furious, but not really frightened. The adrenalin had drowned it out. Now, he was afraid. "What ... What would it mean, Q? If I ... If I had ... known?" Q tilted his head, considering, a nameless emotion in his eyes. "Because I'm not sure did!" Picard hastened to clarify. "I don't know what he means. What ..."
Q leaned forward, resting one hand on the arm of Picard's chair. Deanna, who was closest, stiffened angrily, but there was no threat in this closeness. Unlike the other entity, unlike even his own usual stance, Q was not suggesting anything. He was simply leaning in to hear, supporting his weight on the chair.
"When you said my name, Jean-Luc," he whispered, "what was in your mind? How did you think of me? What form did I take, for you?" His gaze was intense.
Jean-Luc swallowed, a slight smile sliding across his face. "Hm. Puck. The Fool. The Harlequin. Loki. The trickster god who plays with mortals to show them themselves, but all still for his own amusement. My shadowing, possibly benevolent, demon. And a curiously honourable man, with the capacity for self-sacrifice. Flamboyant, dramatic, and quietly loyal. And someone who has rarely, if ever, been thanked for his efforts. Your facade of cynicism is quite convincing. But you can't completely hide your good intentions. You just don't handle people very well. But you try to. And you learn from each encounter. That proves your character. You're my ... friend ..."
He stopped. Q's eyes had widened, shock and delighted pleasure flickering in them before he struggled to disguise it. Then he seemed to surrender, closing his eyes and tilting his face towards Jean-Luc. "He's right," he whispered. "I can feel it when you talk. The words are clumsy," and his eyes flashed open for a moment to sparkle mischieviously, "and maybe not flattering, but I can feel your calling of me. You know my name."
"I told you!" the other Q snapped. Q ignored him, smiling down at Picard, who swallowed again under the gaze.
"What ... What does that mean?" he asked.
"Oh, many things," Q whispered, his voice a caress. He bit his lip, an irrepressable grin fighting to make itself known. Jean-Luc found himself responding, despite continuing worry. Q tilted his head mischieviously at him, stepping back with a coy expression. "So many things, mon capitaine. I can't wait to tell you!"
"Then don't!" Will snapped, surging to his feet. "This is no time for games, Q. Tell us what you mean! If you mean to harm him ..."
Q's grin had slipped, a serious expression replacing it. When Will suggested that, fury flashed to the fore, before slipping back under. Q met the impassioned gaze of his first officer calmly, but the tension had upped again. Picard wanted to move between the antagonists, to protect Will, baffled by the man's defense of him. A curious warmth was growing in his chest at the obvious care his crew had for him. It felt good.
"Firstly," Q ennunciated clearly, "it means that I can defend you with a clean conscience." He turned back to the other Q. "I never told him my name. I can't, without violating his mental barriers. He figured it out himself. Do you get it? A human, with the ability to learn my name, my identity? Humanity has vindicated my interest in them! These humans in particular. If you destroy them now, you risk the future of the Q. We need to learn from them. The Continuum will not let you destroy them now." He paused, gauging the other's reaction. "But you knew that, didn't you? And you rushed to finish the job, knowing that, knowing I'd come ..."
His eyes widened suddenly, and he flung his arms wide, white light flashing in an arc towards the other entity. Picard leapt to his feet beside Will. "Q!" he roared into the after-image. "What the devil ...!" A hand over his mouth shut him up.
"Mon capitaine?" The hand lowered.
Picard was stiff. Wrong Q. The Q behind him wasn't the one who wanted to defend them. Not his Q.
"Your Q?" the voice drawled in his ear. "Yes. He is, mortal. You own him. You have his name. Among us, names have power. You can command him, mortal. You can tell him to back down."
"No," Picard whispered. He wouldn't ...
"Nice try, Q," came a disembodied voice. "Even if he could, he wouldn't. But he knows better. They're not that stupid, despite occasional evidence to the contrary. We're Q, not genies." Q flashed into existence before them, an object in his hands. It was an ancient oil-lamp, a-la Arabian Nights. He tossed it contemptuously from hand to hand. "Three wishes? Want him to be a prince? Hah! No, I don't fancy the role of genie. Perhaps ... you would?" He slung the lamp at the other Q, who released Picard to fend it off. White light flashed again, and the other entity disappeared.
"What happened!?" Picard demanded.
Q smirked. "20th century Disney movie. Aladdin."
"Ah," Data nodded. "You put him in the role of Jafar?"
"Clever man, Data," Q smiled. "The lamp was a transformational matrix that pulled him inside to a specially constructed micro-reality. To quote the movie, phenominal cosmic power, itty-bitty living space. But it won't hold him long. He's right. In terms of raw power, he's my superior."
"There are levels of power within the Q?" Picard asked, frowning.
Q shook his head. "Not exactly. Our power is in our wills. What we desire to happen, happens. If two Q have conflicting desires, the one with the strongest will wins. If I were to, oh, try to wish him into nothingness, I'd get pulped. His will would knock my efforts right back at me."
"Why? Why is his will stronger?"
"He has a ... forceful personality," Q smiled, ruefully. "In basic terms, he's more single-minded than I am. Once he sets his mind on something, he will literally rearrange existence to achieve it. I can't match that. I'm more ... flexible."
"Hmpf. You mean flighty," Will snorted. Q looked affronted, and Picard hid a grin behind his hand. Then Q relented, and grinned too.
"Whatever," he scoffed. "The fact remains, that micro-reality is a construct of my will. The only thing holding him there is my desire that he remain. In time, he'll beat that."
"How much time?"
"Not enough. He's pushing already. He won't accept defeat. Ten, maybe twelve minutes, on this temporal plane. A couple of years in the reality he's entered."
"Then we have to figure out how to stop him," Picard stated decisively. Now that he had a clear task, with tools at his disposal capable of solving the problem, he felt much better. That worried him slightly. How had the other Q known how to put him off so badly?
"That's my fault, I'm afraid," Q said softly. "Part of my tests of you were to see how you reacted to different types of pressure. Personal pressure was an element."
"You mean all that ... posturing, interfering with my personal space, that was only a test?"
Q looked uncomfortable. "Well ... In part. But it's part of my personality, too. Probably why they let me test you. Probably why they choose to let me test most people. I, um, enjoy it. Unlike most Q, who take on species as a whole, I tend to gravitate to individuals. Representatives. Challengers. You, in other words. Humanity is the species I'm most proud of, of the ones I've chosen to represent to the Continuum."
"Are you saying the Q take species as ... experiments? That you act as ... patrons, sponsors?" Picard asked incredulously. "Is it some kind of competition?"
Q shrugged. "To a degree. It was, back when humanity was young. Back when the Q still had interest in these things. I generally won. I always picked the species with a natural perversity, you see. Species that would resist manipulation as a matter of course. Species that were always striving, pushing, fighting for wider horizons. Most of the alpha quadrant is dominated by my representatives. But I lost the delta quadrant. That's actually his major problem with me. His species is still fighting too, and the only species that have successfully resisted them so far have been mine."
Picard looked at the 'lamp', a sudden dark suspicion growing in his mind. "What species does he sponsor?" he asked slowly. Q smiled sadly.
"Haven't you guessed, mon capitaine? From his personality? Singleminded, obsessed with order, with compliance to authority, with acting in unity? His ideal Continuum acts as a unit, every individual Q a part of the whole, performing their respective tasks with efficiency. Individuality forever subject to the greater cause, personal choice subject to the will of the whole, individuals mere extensions of the central will. Absorbing all possible permutations into the central grid." That rueful smile flickered back into existence. "Remind you of anyone?"
"The Borg," Picard whispered. "He chose the Borg."
"I suppose you thought your introduction to them was a fit of pique?" Picard shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, you were right. You weren't ready. And I hate losing. I wanted to beat him, and you were my best chance. You had to be ready when he came for you."
"If you have been in conflict, through mortals, for millennia," Data asked, "why is it escalating into personal conflict now?"
Q acknowledged the query ruefully. "Because I escalated it. Events in the Continuum came to a head recently, at my prompting. We had ourselves a little civil war, and with the aid of some creative thinking, and humans, I won. Well, not exactly won, but forced a compromise."
"What?!"
"He won the actual war, and nearly had me executed, but my human ... compatriots ... got them into a stalemate so I could propose an alternate to outright war, namely mating." He looked around. "What? Making a new breed of Q to bring new life to a stagnating society? Made perfect sense to me. Of course, parenting itself was a bit more of a challenge, but ... Why are we talking about this?"
"Allow me to get this straight," Deanna asked slowly. "You had a child?"
"Yes!" Q snapped defensively. "But we're wasting time! We've about five minutes to come up with a solution to a suicidal Q who's determined to take us with him!"
"Suicidal?!" Picard snapped. "How'd you reach that conclusion?"
"Because he came here to taunt me. He came here and did ... what he did ... to make me angry. It's against the will of the Continuum, so he'll die anyway, but he wanted either to take me with him, or get killed in battle. Which would be ironic, because I never took him for a Klingon."
Picard felt a sudden urge to laugh. "That's it! That's it! He's already lost! If this is a personal battle, then he's already lost. He's defied the Continuum. He's made an individual decision. He's chosen your path. That's the irony. In trying to destroy you, he's ultimately lost!"
Q shook his head. "Which is all well and good, and believe me I'm thrilled, but that won't help us now. He's suicidal. Do you have any idea how dangerous a suicidal Q is? We're immortal. We cannot die by any normal means. That means we have to invent a way a provoke the only power capable of destroying an individual Q. The Continuum. He's decided to do that by committing the ultimate crime among us. Trying to destroy another Q. Add to that the fact that he's the most single-minded individual you are ever likely to meet, and I'd say we're in a lot of trouble. He can't kill me, or at least I don't think he can, but you don't have that advantage."
"There has to be a reason he chose you," Picard argued, a touch desperately. Now was not the time for Q to be his usual cynical self. They needed options, not nay-sayers.
"You mean besides a couple of billion years of enmity?" Q retorted sarcastically.
"Yes! He must have known that he'd be conceding defeat if he did this! If he's as arrogant as you are, there would have to be a compelling reason to humiliate himself like that ..."
"It's simple actually," a voice drawled. Q closed his eyes briefly, then glanced an apology at them. The other Q appeared behind him, one hand on his shoulder. "If all that's left of you by the time they deal with me is a quivering heap of semi-sentient jelly, which of us do you think should feel humiliated?"
Q smiled brightly, like the glitter of broken glass. "Oh, I don't know. That depends on how close you come to actually achieving that goal."
The entity leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Can you fight me, and defend them? Q?"
"Want to play a game?" Q asked.
"Oh no, Q. No challenges. No games. I'm going to tear you, and your precious humans, apart. No games, no rules, no chances. I'll feed you to the Borg."
Q reached up and caught the hand that held him, spinning so that he and the other Q were face to face. He smirked. "Am I permitted some last words?"
"No!"
"Too bad. I've got three." Q smiled evilly, raw, desperate mischief dancing in his eyes. Picard braced.
"Tag. You're it!"
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That was chapter one, people. R&R, if you liked. If you didn't, do it anyway. I can take a little yelling.