Summary: Q and his wife have an argument and make some of Voyager's crewmembers settle it for them.
Author's Note: This was written before "Q2." So Q's son and his relationship with the female Q are drastically different from how they are seen in that episode. Although this story is set in roughly the seventh season, please pretend that episode doesn't exist in order for this to make sense. Also, this is AU insofar as it assumes Tom and B'Elanna broke up at some point.
Prologue:
Somewhere, Sometime in the Q Continuum:
"Now, dear. Please stop drawing on the ceiling. Your father and I are trying to talk."
A cute blonde child, largely human in appearance, but with Vulcan ears, Cardassian neck ridges, and Trill spots, looks up from his project to stick his tongue out at his mother before resuming his work. He is busily creating pictures, waving his hand to direct a wash of color across the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, then swirling his finger to mix them together.
The mother, an attractive redhead, sighs before turning back to her husband. "I really wish he'd listen to me occasionally. He's a bit too much like his father if you ask me."
"What's wrong with drawing on the ceiling? That whole religion thing was a bore anyway." The man yawns and stretches melodramatically, provoking another sigh from the woman, even more exasperated than the last. "Let the kid have a little fun."
"It's not drawing on the ceiling that I object to. But he shows no consideration for us, just recreating the environment whenever he wants without giving us any warning at all." As if to illustrate her words, the child gestures upward, apparently bored with simple drawing, and makes the ceiling disappear altogether. He laughs happily at the sky above, currently filled with stars, then moves his hand again. The rest of the chapel disappears, including the pew his parents had been sitting on, and the three figures are surrounded by stars in every direction.
The woman falls ungracefully for a few centimeters, and then readjusts the surrounding gravity to float comfortably in the void. The man lets out a short laugh, then quickly composes his expression under her furious glare. Leaning back to make himself comfortable, he adds an inflatable raft and changes his clothes to swim trunks. The woman can't help but smile at this sight, but covers her amusement quickly.
"Just last dimension, I was sunbathing on the plains in front of Mt. Seleya, and he whisked us into the ice age of some insignificant planet. I'm sitting there in my swimsuit in the middle of a group of cavemen in the snow. And he just laughs." She glares at her husband, to see if he will make the same mistake, but he is wise enough to remain silent. "Even if they were just mortals, and primitive ones at that, I don't think it's appropriate."
"Ah, well. What do you expect?" He shrugs dismissively. "Q will be Q."
For a moment, they just drift in silence, watching as their son rearranges the stars to form new constellations. Then the woman takes a deep breath, determined to continue. "And another thing." The man rolls his eyes, but fortunately, his wife does not notice. "I really wish you'd talk to him about those neck ridges. I understand that he wants to experiment with his form, as he should, but they're really quite unattractive. It's bad enough that your silly obsession keeps us stuck in humanoid forms most of the time, but we should at least set some standards of good taste."
"At least he got over the Kazon hair quickly. He'll grow out of this soon enough." The woman dips her head slightly in concession.
"And what do you mean, silly obsession?" He frowns, looking genuinely insulted.
"It's almost impossible to get you out of that stupid humanoid body. We can be anything we want, and you pick that?" She stares at him scornfully. He just bats his eyes coyly, jutting his lower lip out in a dramatic pout.
"I thought you liked me like this."
She laughs at his antics, but quickly resumes the discussion. "Seriously. I think it's much more interesting to be an amoeba every once in a while. Or a neutron star. Something to break up the monotony of existence."
He shrugs, uninterested. "I just like the form. It's comfortable, that's all." Behind them, the child begins to detonate the stars, bored with just arranging them. The man adds a pair of sunglasses to block the glare from the supernovas.
The woman squints her eyes for a moment, and then commands the boy, "Keep it down over there." He turns back toward her, prepared to object, but stops at the intensity of her glare. Muttering under his breath, he dims the lights just enough to keep from getting in trouble again.
That battle won, she turns back to her husband. "I don't think so. How many times have you shown up in that annoying diplomat's office? What's his name…Pickerd?"
The man bristles immediately, snapping with irritation. "It's Picard. Jean-Luc Picard. It's French. And he's a captain, not a diplomat." He sullenly trails off, realizing he has just proven her point.
"Whatever. And then the fiasco with that female captain." She glares at him, obviously not having forgiven him for those events yet. "Honestly, don't you have any taste?"
"Now you're being ridiculous. Even if I am a little more interested in humans than your average Q, you have to admit Kathy's spectacular as far as the species goes."
"Ha!" The woman laughs in disbelief. "She's nothing special."
"Yes, she is. She's beautiful."
"No more than anyone else. Hell, even on her own ship there are more beautiful women." He laughs bitterly, saying something under his breath that she chooses to ignore. "What makes her any more beautiful than the Borg, for example, or the Klingon?"
"She's got power. Command. Intelligence. True presence. Strength of will almost worth of a Q. The other two would crumble under that kind of pressure, but not my Kathy."
"Stubbornness does not equal beauty, my dear. No more than infantile behavior equals boyish charm."
He ignores her intended slight, refusing to be distracted from the argument. "It's not stubbornness. It's determination. And it's what makes humanity special in the first place."
It still doesn't make her beautiful." She crosses her arms across her chest, refusing to concede the point without a fight.
"Yes, it does. And I'll prove it."
"How?" The word is sharp and quick, and he responds to it immediately, answering just as harshly.
"A contest."
"And who exactly are you going to have judge this contest? It's not like I can expect you to be an impartial arbiter for this decision." When he does not respond, she adds in a teasing voice, "Besides, I warned you not to wear that stupid 'judge of the galaxy' getup again."
This at last provokes a reaction, an icy glare, but he does not acknowledge the comment aloud. "We'll let them be the judge. Pick the human of your choosing, the one you think will be the most objective, and we'll let them decide."
She considers his proposal for a moment before nodding slowly. "Agreed. But we decide all the terms in advance. The rules."
He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on. Rules are so limiting. You're Q. Use your imagination a little."
"That's the idea. To limit your cheating."
"Moi? Cheat?" He sits up on the raft, placing one hand on his chest to protest his innocence more dramatically.
"Yes, you. And we get Amanda to babysit. I'm not having him get bored halfway through and mutate the contestants."
"He would be underfoot. Agreed." The star field around them dissolves, quickly reforming into the fiery molten core of a planet. The man produces a bottle of sunscreen and applies it as he continues. "Provided we can come up with rules that we both agree on."
"Engineering to bridge." Most of the bridge staff looks up from their stations anxiously. I continue studying the information on my console as if unconcerned, but concentrate on listening and paying attention to the people around me. It would not do for the first officer to appear worried, but I am just as concerned as the rest of the crew. We have been hanging dead in space for weeks while B'Elanna attempts to pull off another miracle. Now we are running dangerously low on food supplies, and the tension is beginning to affect the crew.
"Go ahead, Lieutenant." Kathryn's voice betrays no doubt or hesitation. Just an absolute conviction that we will pull through this together. With every nuance of her voice, by the way she stands, hands on hips authoritatively, halfway between her command chair and the helm console, by the focused determination of her expression, she conveys this conviction to the crew.
And they respond to her. Harry visibly relaxes, hiding his anxiety a little better, although he can't quite manage to turn his attention back to his station. Tom turns his chair back to the helm, checking the readiness of the navigational system. I case B'Elanna does repair the core. Tuvok, like me, remains focused on his console, but I can see that he has paused in his constant status updates to listen.
"The warp core is back on line, Captain." She pauses, as a loud cheer breaks out among the engineering staff, and then continues once the com channel is silent. I smile fondly. While the captain controls the atmosphere of the bridge through her quiet authority, B'Elanna infects her engineering staff with her restless energy and excited leaps of logic. "I wouldn't take her over warp five until we've had a chance to monitor the core in action for a while, but we're up to ninety percent efficiency."
"Good work, Lieutenant." She smiles widely, signaling the bridge crew that it's now okay to celebrate. Tuvok actually raises his gaze from his console, coolly observing our reactions as if confused as to why we react happily to what is merely the logical result of a crew with superior abilities. I raise my head to grin openly at Harry, although I can't hope to match his smile in brilliance. Tom's triumphant smirk almost matches Harry's for intensity as they beam at each other. I almost laugh at this exchange, but manage to contain myself. If I know them at all, it means the two will head to the holodeck immediately after their shift ends to celebrate in one of Tom's programs.
"Keep me informed of your progress." Closing the com line, Kathryn moves back to perch in her chair. I smile affectionately at her before turning back to my console.
"Mr. Paris, set a course for—"
I look up, wondering what has distracted her, but she's gone. I look around in bewilderment, but she is nowhere on the bridge. I feel Tuvok moving out from behind the security station to stand ready for action.
"Captain?" Tom turns around, waiting for the rest of Kathryn's order. His eyes grow wide when he realizes the captain has disappeared, but he remains quiet, looking to me for orders.
"Full stop." I stand, automatically assuming command until we can locate the captain. "Bridge to astrometrics." I give Seven just long enough to activate the channel, not waiting for the customary acknowledgement. "Seven, do astrometric sensors show any kind of spatial or temporal anomalies in the immediate vicinity?"
There is a long pause before a young voice answers hesitantly. "Icheb here, Sir. Seven just… disappeared." I exchange a look with Tuvok, and he moves to raise the ship to red alert. "There are no anomalies of any kind within sensor range."
"Thank you, Icheb." I try to convey confidence through my voice, as if nothing is wrong. Icheb is very mature for his age, and highly intelligent, but he is still young. He has to be scared and worried, whether he shows it or not, especially if his mentor vanished before his eyes. "Continue scanning for anything out of the ordinary and notify me immediately if you find anything. You are in charge of astrometrics until we locate Seven." No reason to tell him that the captain is missing as well.
I turn to operations next. "Harry, how many people are currently on board?" At least two people are missing, but there could be more. He accesses the internal sensors, widens his eyes dramatically, and confirms the results before speaking. This is not going to be good.
"Internal sensors indicate seventy-four personnel on board." Spirits, a little less than half the crew gone.
Realizing that everyone on the bridge is staring at me, waiting for my orders, I quickly shut my mouth. I clear my throat and start giving orders. "Mr. Kim, get a list of exactly who we're missing as soon as possible. Then do continuous sensor scans looking for anything out of the ordinary." He nods and lowers his head to the console, biting his lip in concentration.
"Mr. Tuvok, make sure every station is covered by at least two personnel." I don't want any stations left unattended if we have any more disappearances. "Call anyone back on duty that you need. And get someone down there with Icheb immediately." Tuvok nods, fingers already flying across his console.
"Mr. Paris, since we're not going anywhere for a while, take over communications and start fielding all the calls to the bridge. Until we figure out exactly what's going on here, just log the calls without telling them anything." He deactivates the helm controls and moves to the empty com station.
"Have you got me that list yet, Harry?"
"Coming up now, Sir." He scans the list, furrows his brow in confusion, then cross-references the list with another file, probably the crew manifest. "There are no women on board, Sir. But all the men are accounted for."
"Understood. Begin the sensor sweeps." I move back to my seat and hesitate before sitting in the command chair instead. Not that I am uncomfortable with command, but it's not normally the result of Kathryn vanishing without a trace.
All the women gone, but none of the men. Far too systematic to be a coincidence. I scan the Federation database, looking for anything similar. Nothing. I vaguely remember Kathryn describing something similar, but I can't quite recall the incident.
I close my eyes briefly, focusing on the fragment of memory. My eyes open again almost immediately. Quinn. When we found the first Q in the comet, he made all the men disappear. I experienced it as just jumping from one time and place to another, but Kathryn said we were gone for several minutes. But Quinn's dead.
The other Q. He's the one who brought the men back the first time, so he can obviously do it. And he's taken Kathryn once before.
I stand and move to Tuvok's side to tell him my suspicion. Until we have confirmed that Q is responsible, I don't want to inform the entire bridge staff. "Tuvok," I say, keeping my voice low. "I have an idea as to who may be responsible." He scans the rest of the bridge, making sure no one is observing us, as he listens intently. "I think…"
There is a flash of white light across my field of vision. No heat, or painful brightness, just an absence of color. "…Q may be behind this," I finish to my empty office, as color seeps back into the world. I tap my communicator, but there is no response. I hear the distinct sound of applause coming from all around me, muted and soft. I whirl around quickly, looking for the source of the noise, but no one is there. My office is as I left it, nothing out of place. The applause grows louder, becoming more localized until I can pinpoint the source. I turn toward the sound, and there is Q, sitting in my chair, feet up on my desk, as he continues clapping.
He stops abruptly, crossing his arms across his chest smugly. He's wearing that presumptuous admiral's uniform again. "Bravo, Chuckles. You surprise me. I didn't think you'd figure it out so quickly." He smiles evilly, and I want to punch that smugness off his face. "You know what they say about men with big tattoos… Little brains." Q pauses as if just remembering something, one finger resting across his lips in a theatrical gesture of confusion. "Or was that a little…?"
"Q, stop that. There's no reason to insult the Commander." The female Q appears at my side, linking her arm through mine possessively. She looks me up and down, licking her lips appreciatively. "Especially when it's so obviously not true."
I free myself from her grasp, refusing to let either of them bait me. Moving to where I can see both of them, I cross my arms and raise myself up to my full height, using my bulk to appear as intimidating as possible. I will not be cowed by a pair of arrogant miscreants, even if they are omnipotent. We saved their butts before, and I'm not about to let them forget it. "What do you want this time?" I set my jaw and glare at them fiercely. "And what the hell have you done with my crew?"
"We just want you to settle a little argument. Nothing complicated, really." I'm about to ask what the argument is about, but Lady Q interrupts bitterly before I can speak.
"It was his idea to take the women." Ah, marital problems in the Continuum. "He didn't think you'd cooperate willingly. Thinks you don't trust us." She puts on hand on her hip and purses her lips into what I assume are intended as a seductive pout. "You do trust me, don't you, Chak?"
"And if I cooperate, they will be returned? Regardless of my decision?"
"Yes, of course." Q waves his hand in dismissal, as if the details are not worth worrying about.
"And if I refuse?" Q frowns, not answering, and I repeat the question loudly.
Lady Q steps forward, glaring at her husband. "I will return them. We just wanted you to listen to us first. I'm not going to let your crew suffer if you refuse to play along with his stupid little game." Well, that at least answers the question of who started it.
"I have your word, both of you, that they will be returned no matter what?" Lady Q agrees immediately. Q nods reluctantly, but says nothing. "Your word, Q?"
He hisses in exasperation. "Yes. You have my word." He glares at me sullenly. I narrowly resist the temptation to gloat.
I turn my back to them, pacing briefly as I consider my decision. Although I do trust them to keep their word, I'm not so confident they wouldn't add some little catch to defeat the purpose. And I don't want to choose sides in an argument between Q.
"I won't promise to settle your bickering, but I will consider your argument carefully. Either way, you return the captain and everyone else, unharmed. Agreed?" Both Q nod in turn. "And one more thing. Get your feet off my desk."
Although Q glares at me for this command, I refuse to yield until he grudgingly complies. Lady Q seems tremendously amused by this, laughing loudly until Q turns his glare on her. Once she has fallen silent, he rises and quickly moves out from behind the desk as if the change was his idea.
"This is not really the appropriate venue for this type of decision anyway." He snaps his fingers and the desk and chair disappear, removing the instrument of his embarrassment altogether. He pauses to think, then snaps a small folding table into existence. It's covered with a tacky burgundy tablecloth and bears a cardboard sign with the handwritten inscription 'Judge's Table'. On the other side of the room, a small stage appears, with streamers of the same burgundy color hanging off the front.
I examine the scene skeptically, but can't identify its historical context. Knowing Q, this is some specific setting borrowed from Earth's development, twisted until it serves his capricious whim. "What kind of decision is this, exactly?"
He gestures around the room as if I'm supposed to figure it out from his childish stage dressing. When I don't respond, he sighs and explains. "A beauty pageant, naturally."
A beauty contest? He has to be kidding. This is too petty, even for Q. Between who?
As if in answer to my thought, Q snaps again, and three figures appear on the stage. They appear drastically different from usual, but I immediately recognize Kathryn, B'Elanna, and Seven. Although they are wearing satin sashes that identify them as Kathy, Torrid, and Six. Over revealing black swimsuits of various designs.
I can feel my anger rising at this disrespect, and whirl to face Q. But before I can say anything, Lady Q mutters under her breath, "Grow up, Q." She snaps her fingers, and I am relieved to see that the three are now somewhat more appropriately attired, with the sashes labeled correctly. In a stage whisper, she says to me, "Honestly, you'd think after a couple millennia, they'd be a little more mature."
I growl deep in my throat, wishing I could snap both of them into oblivion. This is childish, demeaning, and incredibly insulting. To put members of my crew, including our captain, in some ridiculous contest, parading them around in who knows what, just to settle a petty argument. My first impulse is to walk out, to demand that everything be restored immediately.
But I gave my word that I would consider their dispute carefully before making a decision. And I will not break my word, even to a Q. Besides, if I don't fulfill my part of the agreement, they might not fulfill theirs.
"Get on with it, then." I don't even try to disguise the contempt in my voice. I stalk over to the table and sit down in a folding chair.
Q smiles triumphantly and moves toward the stage. He changes into a tuxedo and creates a folding chair for his wife, this one labeled 'Audience'. "Lady and Gentlemind, welcome to the first ever Ms. Voyager Pageant." Spirits, what have I agreed to? "This special event will determine the most beautiful woman on Voyager. And the future recipient of the Ms. Voyager crown." A plastic tiara appears in front of him, floating on a burgundy cushion with gold trim.
"We have an exciting evening ahead of us. First a group musical number, then the swimsuit competition." I cross my arms stubbornly across my chest, and he amends, "Okay, we'll skip the swimsuits." Lady Q laughs and he continues, studiously ignoring her. "Next up, we have the evening gown competition, giving our intrepid crewwomen a chance to show their stuff." I growl threateningly, and he wisely decides to forego the ad-lib. "We will conclude the evening with a talent show and interview session. And now, let's get this show started!"
Spotlights come on, and horrible music begins pounding through the room. I groan as the contestants begin to move, reflexively closing my eyes to avoid the travesty before me. Forgive me, Kathryn. I unwillingly open my eyes again, forcing myself to watch the appalling spectacle.
I last through the dance and evening gowns, but then can't take anymore. Damn the agreement. I've put up with this for too long already. I stand up, loudly scraping the rickety plastic chair across the deck. "Enough, Q. Stop the music." To my relief, the noise grinds to a halt. "I've considered your argument for long enough. And frankly, I consider it childish and petty. This pageant ends now." Q makes a comically disappointed face that would normally make me grin. But after the idiocy of his contest, I don't have enough patience left for anything but anger.
"I refuse to judge any human being on such meaningless terms. If you want a decision, you'll have to find someone else."
"And who exactly would you suggest?"
His infantile pout annoys me further, and I snap, "Someone with an eye for 'beauty'." Thankfully, he doesn't recognize the sarcasm or blatant disrespect in my tone. Not wanting to antagonize them further, I add, "Tom Paris, perhaps?"
Q looks surprised. "Tommy? Do you really think so?"
I know I should end this discussion now, but out of sheer perverseness, I continue. "So I've heard."
Q pauses to think about it, and then grins gleefully. "The judgment of Paris?" He laughs to himself, but I don't understand the reference. "It was so much fun the first time that I guess I could stand to do it again. All right, Chuckles, I agree. You are hereby relieved of your judging duties."
Lady Q pouts in disappointment. "And I was looking forward to seeing if your captain actually had a talent." I bristle in anger, but thankfully, the obnoxious pair are fading from view. "Oh well, on to Helm Boy."
The audacity. Wondering whether Kathryn has a talent. Even in their idiotic contest, Kathryn is still clearly the winner. All three are beautiful, even in Q's ridiculous wardrobe, but the other two could never have the powerful presence of the captain. And that arrogant bitch has the nerve to mock her.
I close my eyes briefly, managing to suppress the waves of anger and regain control. I make my way back to the bridge quickly. Harry looks up, relief and surprise evident in his eyes, as I step off the turbolift.
"Commander!" He quickly composes himself, professionally reporting, "Most of the crew has been returned, Sir. We are still missing Janeway, Seven, Torres, and now Paris." I can see a touch of fear in his eyes at the disappearance of his best friend, so I smile reassuringly as I move to the command chair.
"Everything's fine. They've just been borrowed. They should be back shortly. Take us down to yellow alert until they're back." The remaining bridge crew looks confused, but complies automatically.
I lean back in my chair, wondering what I've done. At least Tom, with his warped historical interests, might find something amusing about the ordeal.
I love being Voyager's pilot. It's the second chance I never thought I'd get. And what I was born to do in the first place, despite the command ambitions the Admiral had planned for me. But there is nothing more aggravating than being the pilot of a starship with dead engines. At least on a shuttle, you can open the maintenance panels and fix her yourself. Or in the Maquis, where everybody does a little of everything. But on a large Starfleet vessel, duties are compartmentalized. I have to wait, while B'Elanna and her engineers figure out how to make the rules work again.
"Engineering to bridge." I eavesdrop without hesitation. I've run every possible system check and readiness exercise at least twenty times. Unless B'Elanna has good news, there's really no reason to be at the helm.
"Go ahead, Lieutenant." I smile at the captain's expression: no doubt in her mind. I turn back to the helm and run the twenty-first check of the nav system. No doubt in mine either. B'Elanna can fix anything, if you give her long enough. And she's had long enough.
As usual, B'Elanna doesn't disappoint. "The warp core is back on line, Captain. I wouldn't take her over warp five yet, but we're up to ninety percent efficiency."
"Good work, Lieutenant." Even the captain smiles at B'Elanna's latest miracle. Harry predictably lights up the entire bridge with the intensity of his smile. I smile back at him, almost as happy. Finally, I can do something useful, like fly the ship.
I turn back to the helm, eagerly awaiting the captain's next orders. Doesn't really matter where, just as long as we're moving again. Warp five will feel spectacular after so long.
"Mr. Paris." I wait for the command, hands poise expectantly over the controls. "Set a course for—"
Seconds pass, but she doesn't finish. I turn back to her chair, wondering if I somehow missed the rest of her command. "Captain?"
But she's not there. Or anywhere else on the bridge, as far as I can tell. Chakotay's looking around in confusion, obviously bewildered by her disappearance. He stands, masking his confusion as he takes command.
"Full stop." Under any other circumstance, I wouldn't be able to resist a groan. I enter the command automatically, although since we haven't started moving yet, it's merely a formality. Then I use the navigational sensors to search for anything that might explain the captain's disappearance. Nothing. And Harry stays silent, so the internal sensors must not show anything unusual either. Unless astrometrics can pick something up, we have no explanation.
But when Chakotay calls Seven for information, it's Icheb who answers, his voice trembling slightly. "Icheb here, Sir. Seven just… disappeared." At a nod from Chakotay, Tuvok puts the ship on red alert. To his credit, Chakotay's voice conveys only confidence and reassurance when he replies to the young Borg.
Next Chakotay turns to Harry, expertly suppressing any reaction as he calmly asks how many people are on board. Harry, however, is not nearly as talented at suppression. His eyes widen in shock as the results from the internal sensors come up on his console. He confirms the results before speaking, not liking what he sees. "Internal sensors indicate seventy-four personnel on board."
My mouth drops open in shock. About half the crew missing. No wonder Harry didn't want to believe it. There is silence on the bridge for a moment as we all absorb the news.
Chakotay recovers first, quickly switching into crisis command mode. He gives Harry and Tuvok their orders, and then turns to me. "Mr. Paris, since we're not going anywhere for a while, take over communications and start fielding all the calls to the bridge." Better than sitting here useless for an eternity. If that many people vanished, there will be a lot of confused people wanting to know what's happening. "Until we figure out exactly what's going on here, just log the calls without telling them anything." I quickly shut down the helm and move to my new assignment.
I instinctively check to see if there is a call from engineering, wondering if B'Elanna is okay. Joe Carey is near the top of the list, B'Elanna's second in command. I force myself to ignore the call, knowing sickbay takes priority.
"Have you got me that list yet, Harry?"
I listen carefully for Harry's answer as I log the Doctor's report of several minor injuries caused by the unexpected disappearances. "Coming up now, Sir." There is a pause while Harry analyzes the data. "There are no women on board, Sir. But all the men are accounted for."
Shit. That means B'Elanna's gone. I close my eyes for a second, thankful that my back is to the rest of the bridge crew. Although our on again, off again relationship seems to be off for good this time, I still care about her more than I'd want to admit. Even if we never cross the line from friendship to romance again, I can't imagine the trip home without her.
"Understood." Chakotay's voice betrays no emotion whatsoever. "Begin the sensor sweeps."
Taking a deep breath, I focus on my task. Logging each report of a disappearance, not telling anyone anything. The bridge falls into relative silence, as we concentrate on our respective duties.
"Mr. Kim, do the internal sensors indicate any change in the number of personnel on board?" Tuvok's voice is predictably emotionless as he checks on the possibility of further disappearances. Not likely, I hope, but still a possibility.
"No, Sir. Results are the same as before, seventy-four people." Harry's voice is slightly distracted. I grin, picturing him biting his lip in concentration as he runs multiple sensor sweeps at the same time.
"Computer, what is the location of Commander Chakotay?" I turn around in surprise, to see Tuvok standing calmly in front of the command chair. Chakotay is nowhere in sight. I grimace. If anything happens to Tuvok, I'll be next in command. Tuvok ignores Harry's look of alarm as he waits for the computer's response, fingers laced calmly behind his back.
"Commander Chakotay is in his ready room."
Tuvok raises one eyebrow in curiosity, the first indication of emotion he has shown since the captain's disappearance. He taps his com badge. "Tuvok to Chakotay." He waits a moment, repeating the command, but there is no response.
Abandoning this attempt, he turns to Harry. "Ensign, do the sensors indicate any reason why the commander would be unable to respond?"
Harry runs several quick scans, scowling in frustration. "Sensors confirm his life signs, strong and steady. But there's some kind of energy field around the room interfering with further analysis."
"What kind of energy field, Ensign?"
"The readings are fluctuating wildly, Sir. First it reads as photonic energy, then a plasma fire. Now the room appears to be in temporal flux." There's a short pause as Harry struggles with the controls. "These readings don't make sense by any natural laws."
Tuvok raises one eyebrow and reasons with understated irony, "Then perhaps the individuals responsible do not obey the laws of nature."
"Sir?" Harry doesn't follow Tuvok's logic and for a moment, I don't either.
"Q." Of course. Who needs the regular laws of the universe when you can make your own?
"After our last encounter, I find it unlikely that either Q would cause us irreparable harm." He's right there. They owe us. "I suggest we maintain red alert status until they reveal the motivation for their interference on this occasion."
I turn back to the com panel, hoping Tuvok is right. The Q are obnoxious and irresponsible, but I don't think they'd do permanent harm to us after their civil war. Even if it's not the two we're most familiar with, the entire Continuum owes us after that little episode. They wouldn't dare hurt the captain or anyone else from Voyager.
The com panel fades into nothingness. For a split second, I'm floating in a void of white blankness. Then, before I can even look around, the deck is solid beneath my feet again.
But in another second, I realize that I'm not on the bridge at all. Voyager is gone, and I'm standing on what feels like grass. The sky above is a beautiful blue, with a few small white clouds chasing each other toward the horizon. I am on top of a hill, and the scene spread out before me is breathtaking. But I have learned that the most beautiful places sometimes harbor the darkest secrets, and I am uneasy.
I look for Q, but I appear to be alone. Figuring I may as well try to relax until he decides to show up, I make myself comfortable underneath a solitary tree on the hillside. I lean against the gnarled trunk and look out over the valley below. I can't place it exactly. But it's obviously somewhere on Earth, before civilization took over, by the looks of it.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I jump at the unexpected sound and see Q sitting in the grass next to me. He's wearing what looks like a knee-length dress, white with a thick purple line running over one shoulder to the bottom hem.
"Nice skirt, Q. I never knew you had such nice legs." Q glares at me for a moment, not bothering to respond. Then he returns to his contemplation of the landscape as if I'd never spoken.
"Just like the old days." He watches the clouds for a moment, and then snaps his fingers as if just remembering something. "Forgot the sheep." At his snap, the clouds begin to move down from the sky, growing denser as they approach. At first, they are just small wisps of cloud chasing each other through the valley as they did through the sky. As I watch, they gradually transform into sheep, tendrils of vapor elongating into legs and heads.
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head against the rough tree trunk. I'll be damned if he's going to get the pleasure of impressing me with his antics. "What do you want, Q? Just wanted to give me a scenic vacation from the bridge?"
"Tommy, my boy. You disappoint me. I thought you would appreciate the detail of the setting."
"Beautiful, Q." My voice remains flat and unimpressed. "And don't call my Tommy."
He looks more surprised than offended. I cross my arms obstinately across my chest, refusing to yield. Only Admiral Paris called me Tommy. I hated it from him, and I won't stand for it from Q.
Q shrugs, relenting easily. "Alright. Paris really is more poetically justified for the occasion anyway."
Not knowing exactly what that's supposed to mean, I simply repeat my earlier question. "What do you want?"
"We just want you to decide something for us. A little insignificant question, really, so we decided who better to judge it than an insignificant—"
"We?" I quickly cut him off, before he exhausts himself thinking of creative insults.
"You're so bright for a simple helm boy!" I groan at the sound of a familiar voice, then turn to see the female Q standing behind us. Wonderful. It was bad enough with one mischievously childish Q. Now I get Her Highness too. The only person I've ever seen be as condescending as my father. Not that the other Q isn't incredibly arrogant, but he's too obviously fascinated by humans to be truly offensive.
I turn to face the valley again, trying to ignore her. Not surprisingly, she continues anyway. "No, really! They should promote you to something more fitting of your intellectual abilities." I grit my teeth, wondering what insult she's preparing. "Perhaps that little rodent fellow needs a hand in the kitchen."
I pointedly address myself to Q, without acknowledging Her Majesty. "What question, Q?"
He smiles delightedly, relieved to have retained the spotlight despite the unfortunate appearance of his wife. "Well, Tommy, it's like this…" He stops at my reproachful look, and then corrects himself. "Sorry. Paris. As I was saying, we've had a little disagreement. And we decided to let someone decide for us, rather than arguing for the next hundred years."
That makes sense at least. Bad enough to be stuck with her forever, let alone have her mad at you the entire time. "So what's the question? Just tell me, so we can finish this and get back to our lives."
"Well, I can't actually tell you the question."
I restrain myself from strangling him in exasperation, instead snapping impatiently, "How the hell do you expect me to settle an argument for you if you can't tell me what it's about?"
"Considering the nature of the disagreement, we didn't think you'd be an impartial judge." He snaps his fingers, and B'Elanna appears before me, flanked on either side by Seven and the captain. She's dressed in full Klingon battle gear. The black leather and sharp metal of her clothing contrast sharply with the soft lines of her almost-human features and the delicate curves of her small body. But the restless fire in her eyes and aggressive tilt of her chin prove that she belongs there. My proud warrior. Tough enough to withstand anything and still come out triumphant, even being with me.
Her Holiness speaks from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. "See? I told you he wouldn't be able to see past his petty little history with the Klingon to make a fair choice."
"So if you don't want to ask me directly, how do you suggest I decide this argument?" I address myself to Q again, vaguely satisfied to see the expression of outrage flash across Her Ladyship's face.
"You decide by their gifts." Q is almost overwhelmed by his own cleverness, barely managing to continue his explanation. "Each offers you a special gift, and you decide which one to accept."
I stare at Q in disbelief. "You want me to pick which one has the best bribe?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a bribe exactly. But in essence, yes." I don't respond immediately to this stupid proposal. "Come on, Paris. It's really quite simple."
What the hell. To humor him, and because he actually remembered to call me Paris, I guess I can play along. "I'll at least listen to the options." But I'm sure there's a catch somewhere. Q's a lot like Chaotica that way. Always something up his sleeve. "But if I don't like any of the choices, I'm not picking one."
Q sighs in resignation, as if he's already been through this once. "No matter what your decision, your crew members will be returned unharmed. All you have to do is give our argument serious consideration." His disclaimer finished, he brightens considerably. "Now on to the fun part. Although it really should be a little more formal than last time."
I don't bother to respond, since Q seems to be talking to himself. After a moment of thought, he snaps his fingers again, adding what I can only assume is a curtain to his outfit. More white, with the same purple border. I resist the urge to tell him how ridiculous he looks. Just in case he decides to dress me in an even uglier window covering.
"What do you think, Paris?" He gestures behind me, and I turn to follow his movement, hoping he's asking my opinion on something other than his clothing. The valley has disappeared, replaced by an impressive set of ruins, mainly toppled columns and unreadable inscriptions. The sheep have returned to the sky, although the clouds are still distinctly sheep-shaped.
Looking at the ruins, I suddenly place Q's ridiculous outfit. I saw some old science fiction show with an episode set in ruins like these, with the alien wearing a similar outfit. Can't really remember the plot though. The alien had once used his technology to convince the ancient Greeks, or maybe Romans, he was a god. Something like that.
But Q's setting is a lot better. More like the real thing, I suppose, instead of a cheap set. Considering his arrogance, his powers, and his interest in humans, it's likely he could have done the same thing. Set himself up as a god and played with the primitives.
"Very good reproduction." Not that I would know, but Q's still waiting expectantly. Wish I could figure out if it was Greek or Roman, so I could say something relatively intelligent. Although from what little I remember from my earth history class, the Romans were basically the Borg of the ancient world. Assimilating everything in their path, stealing parts of every culture they encountered until almost everything was Roman, dominating civilization for centuries. So it's probably safe to assume it was eventually Roman at one time or another. I decide to take a gamble. "Roman times?"
Q beams with pride, so I assume my guess was correct. "Troy to be precise. But your timing's correct." I nod blankly at his explanation, wondering whether Troy is the character he's playing or the name of the ruins.
"Well, get on with it. Bring on the bribes." Better get started before he figures out I have no clue what the hell I'm talking about.
Q snaps his fingers, and Seven and B'Elanna move back to flank Janeway. They strike mirror poses, dramatically framing the captain with their outstretched arms, then freeze. They stay motionless, but their hair is softly moved by some unknown wind. It gently ripples B'Elanna's short tresses and makes Seven's surprisingly long hair caress her bare shoulders. I ignore the blatant sensuality of Q's presentation, thinking with amusement that I wouldn't resort to such obvious devices in even the most outlandish of my holodeck programs, and turn my attention to Janeway.
She's dressed in a standard Starfleet uniform, although Q has upgraded her to an admiral. Probably to equal his own self-appointed status. She catches the wrist of one hand behind her back in a casually authoritative position, standing comfortably at ease. She examines me carefully, sizing me up with her eyes and then smiling slightly in approval. The interaction is so familiar, that for a moment I forget this is an image created from Q's warped perceptions, and not my real captain.
Then she speaks, and the illusion is broken. She moves her hands from behind her back, spreading them wide in a gesture of offering. Her voice is low and sultry, the same warm tones of my captain, but lowered to a seductive invitation that Q can only with he was fortunate enough to hear. "I offer the gift of coming home. All prior sins will be forgiven you, and no more will you ever need to roam. A second chance to start your life anew." Then she lowers her hands to her side and waits patiently.
I wait, but those cryptic words seem to be all she's prepared to offer. I decide to hear the initial offers of all three before searching for the trick, so I nod for Q to continue. Janeway moves back into the chorus line, and B'Elanna steps forward to take her place. I focus on her eyes, ignoring the instinctive emotional response I still have to her. Not going to allow Her Bitchiness the satisfaction of thinking I'm biased.
"I offer you the gift of victory. No more friends will die at hostile hands, or suffer from a painful injury. All will strive to meet your strict demands." I turn to Q furiously, wondering exactly what he's been using his omniscience to eavesdrop on. Her voice is modulated to exactly the tone it gets after a long night of endless orgasms. A little hoarse and weary, but full of unrestrained happiness. Not that I've had the pleasure of hearing it for a while, but it's the kind of thing that crystallizes in your memory. I'd hate to think Q might have heard what it used to take me hours to earn. I glare at him in fury, but he wisely avoids meeting my eyes. Without waiting for a signal from me, he motions for the next offer.
Pushing away my paranoia, I turn my attention to Seven. She's wearing a short red dress that accentuates her figure even more than her regular uniform. Her hair falls gently around her shoulders, softening her usual severity, and her mouth is fixed in a seductive smile. I grin, thinking that a lot of people back on Voyager would love to get a hold of Q's fantasy Seven, but instead it's wasted on me. Not that I don't think she's gorgeous - I do have eyes after all – but I need a little more warmth than that. Leave the impossible ones for Harry.
But when she speaks, her offer is more tempting than her appearance could ever be. "I offer you the gift of love's desire. Someone to share the journey and much more: to consume and be consumed by passion's fire. Each soul will have the other to adore."
Ignoring the temptation of Seven's proposition, I methodically examine each offer in turn. First the captain's. "Coming home, meaning the Alpha Quadrant?" I ask, not sure whether Q or pseudo-Janeway will answer. Q nods. Past sins forgiven, so no repeat of New Zealand. A second chance, not just a temporary reprieve. But no mention of Harry, or B'Elanna, or the rest of my friends. "What about Voyager?"
Q looks vaguely troubled, but Her Supreme Annoyance calmly replies, "Your ship will be in perfect condition, of course." I glare at her, looking directly at her for the first time since her unfortunate appearance. She's deliberately misunderstanding my intentions, just to annoy me I'm sure. She clears her throat softly and adds, "As will the crew."
But Q still looks guilty, so I keep going. "But where?"
She just smiles, not deigning to answer me. Q answers for her, looking sheepish as he admits, "In the Delta Quadrant." Then he hurriedly tries to defend himself. "But of course they'll still have every possibility of finding a shortcut. And you can work on helping them from the other side."
Not acceptable. There's no way I'm leaving them behind. Even Q understands us well enough to know that wasn't an option. So that's one down. Now for B'Elanna's.
I concentrate, focusing until I can recall the exact wording of her offer. No death or injury, at least from hostile species. Doesn't sound like much room for a trick there. But strict demands? That doesn't sound like us. Although we can certainly kick alien butt when we need to, we usually don't operate like a warship. Victory, at least the military sort, is not as common as negotiation or cooperation.
"The gift of victory? What about alliances and negotiations?"
This time Q looks confused, not understanding my caution. "You won't need alliances. Most will respect your superior force and leave you alone. Anyone foolish enough to try will be no match for you."
"So that's a no."
Q adds, "But none of your friends will be hurt," trying to keep me from eliminating that option. I force myself to wait and consider it carefully before moving on. All the people we've lost along the way. All the deaths that could have been avoided if we'd had this possibility earlier.
With Q's offer, we'd make no more friends along the way. Neelix and Kes wouldn't have thrown their lot in with ours. Seven would still be with the Collective. And I would never have met Riga, who defied everything with me, to try to keep his people from destroying the ocean world they'd claimed for themselves. But does the lost possibility for new relationships really justify forfeiting the chance to keep everyone else safe for the rest of the journey?
If we lose the ability to attempt friendly negotiations, we'll have no chance of gaining technology that might get us home faster. Like Mr. Tash, whose warp catapult shaved three years off our journey. Besides, we can't always make it without help. If it hadn't been for the Doc's friend, Denara, Chakotay and the captain would be stranded on a planet light years behind us. The cost is just too high to take Q's bribe, no matter how great it seems.
"Sorry, Q. I hate to disappoint you, but no deal." Just one offer left to consider.
Hmmm, the gift of love's desire. Sounds good to me. For the journey home, so it wouldn't be someone I had to leave behind on a strange planet. And Seven's little poem does say it's mutual. No unrequited love for me. I've had enough tragedy in my life already. "One of us isn't going to die the day after we get together or something like that, are we?"
Once again, it's the Queen Bitch who answers. "You will both be subject to all the risks and dangers of mortality," she warns, obviously disgusted by the idea of a mortal existence, "but your fate will not be predetermined." So basically the same life we live anyway.
I think for a moment, hoping I'm not missing anything, but I can't see any other problems. "Okay, I guess I'll take Seven's offer."
Her Haughtiness claps her hands in delight, and I cringe. Damn. I really didn't want her to win, even if I'm not sure what they're fighting about. She snaps herself away, her triumphant laughter still echoing through the ruins even after she's disappeared. I shrug at Q, who looks incredibly forlorn. "Sorry."
He smiles weakly. "No hard feelings, Tommy." He looks so sad that I don't have the heart to complain about him calling me Tommy again. "She never plays fair."
Q sighs, flopping back down on the ground to sprawl against the tree, returning to his normal melodramatic self. Then he brightens considerably. "But this time she can't get away with it." He smiles widely, and I return his grin, hoping he's found a way to make her lose. Then he snaps his fingers, and everything around me begins to fade to white, until I'm once again on the bridge.
"Tom!" Harry's happiness is the first thing to greet me, as reality reforms around me. "You're back!"
I turn around to meet his grin, and stretch melodramatically, knowing all eyes are on me. "Well, that was… strange." Chakotay lets out a short bark of laughter, while everyone else looks at me blankly. Then he rises from the command chair to step toward me. As soon as he leaves the seat, there's another flash of white light, and the captain appears, looking very confused.
"Gentlemen? Would someone like to tell me what's going on?" She looks at Chakotay expectantly, and he motions for her to wait, turning first to Harry.
"Ensign, has everyone been returned?" The bridge staff waits expectantly as he accesses the internal sensors, checking the information. When he raises his head, his expression is answer enough.
"Everything is under control, Captain." Chakotay smiles at her, obviously happy to have her back. "I suggest I brief you on the situation in your ready room."
She looks at him strangely, but rises gracefully from her chair. "Very well. You have the bridge, Mr. Tuvok."
They move toward her ready room together, and he pauses at the door to add, "And Mr. Paris…" He waits until I'm listening, along with everyone else on the bridge, before continuing. "When I'm finished, it will be your turn to brief the captain. We should be on our way soon, so I suggest you retire to your quarters and prepare your report while you have the opportunity."
"Yes, Commander." I nod to Ensign Culhane, who apparently assumed my station while I was gone, and move to the turbolift. As I pass the Ops station, Tuvok gives the order for all personnel to return to their regular stations and duty shifts. That means that Harry will be off duty as soon as the next shift arrives to relieve him. He looks over at me, silently asking if he can join me or if I need privacy to figure out what I'm going to say. I nod, signaling him to come to my quarters when he's finished.
As the turbolift doors swoosh shut behind me, I wonder what I'm going to say to the captain. Maybe I should just tell Harry everything, and he can help me decide what parts to leave out. Or I can tell her all the details, but say that I didn't make a choice. I really don't want anything like 'Lieutenant Paris reports that he is soon to be consumed by passion's fire' in the official ship's record.
I make my way to my quarters and sprawl out on the couch, thinking about the strange events of the day. Love's desire. I doubt B'Elanna and I will ever get together, and I wouldn't even want to be with Seven. So who? Maybe one of the Delaney sisters? I haven't seen much of them since B'Elanna and I became a couple. But I think Megan started something with somebody from engineering. And Jenny's been seen with Ayala a lot recently.
"Now Tommy, Six never promised that this love would be something new." I jump, startled to find Q sitting next to me. "Or be what you expected."
"What do you mean?" My mind races into warp, trying to figure out what he might mean. But if it's not something new, that could only be B'Elanna. Right? But that doesn't make sense. And it wouldn't be something completely unexpected. But who else could it be?
He laughs, enjoying my obvious bewilderment. But doesn't answer. Then he disappears in his usual flash of light, and my door slides open.
Harry lets himself in and comes to sit next to me, in the spot that Q has just vacated. "So what happened? Tell me everything. Was it Q?" He realizes that he's rambling in his excitement and pauses to breathe.
"Give me a minute." I stretch my arms along the back of the couch, trying to recover from Q's latest intrusion. "Have to catch my breath."
Harry nods and settles back into the couch, making himself comfortable while he waits. After a moment, he leans over to place one hand on my leg. "I'm so glad you're back, Tom." He blushes slightly, but hurries on before he can lose his nerve. "Chakotay said you were safe, but I didn't know whether to believe him." He glances down at his lap, suddenly shy. "I was afraid I might lose you."
I move one hand to muss his hair. "C'mon, Harry. S'okay." He looks back at me, his dark eyes filled with intense emotion.
I'm not sure how to respond to that emotion, and find myself sitting there with my mouth gaping open. Before I can formulate a response, I hear the sound of laughter floating through the air. I look around for Q, but he's not there.
"What is it, Tom?" Harry is watching me with concern. Apparently, Q's laughter is for my ears only.
"Nothing." I lower my hand onto his shoulder, finally realizing what my prize will be. "Just a parting gift from Q." He smiles at me, reassured, but still confused. I pull him closer to me as I add, "I'll tell you later." He starts to protest, wanting to know the full story, but I silence him with a kiss. For a long moment, I kiss him, slowly and tenderly.
Then I pull back to judge his reaction. He sits there wordlessly, and I hold my breath, suddenly afraid that I have made a mistake. And then at last, he smiles. Innocent and uncomplicated, all the things that I love about him, and I know that everything is the way it's supposed to be.
Epilogue:
Somewhere in a suburban section of the Q continuum:
The man sits quietly on the floor, helping his son build new life out of the DNA blocks scattered on the floor. His wife sits sullenly on the couch behind them, glaring at her husband in rage. The man carefully avoids looking at her, remaining silent to as not to provoke her. The only noise is the sound of the television, playing some inane sitcom that no one is watching.
After a few minutes, the woman can contain her bitterness no longer. "It should be considered a tie. After all, Helm Boy chose Six, not the dog."
The man sighs and speaks softly to the child. "Go play outside for a minute. Your mother and I need to talk." The child nods, eager to escape the tension in the room, and quickly gets up to leave.
The father catches his arm before he can run and adds in a threatening tone of voice, "And don't leave this dimension. Or do anything to the house. You can change anything you want outside, but don't disturb us." The boy nods, his Bolian face flushing purple in his eagerness to leave. As soon as his father releases him, he makes a dash for the door.
The man slowly rises and straightens his admiral's uniform. He makes his way to sit next to his wife on the couch. She moves away from him, and he growls in exasperation.
"This is ridiculous. When do you plan on forgiving me?" She says nothing, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the television, and he snaps in annoyance, "You were the one who insisted that Chuckles be the judge. You never specified that it had to be based on his spoken decision rather than his thoughts."
Trying to make her focus her attention on him, he snaps his fingers, and the television switches off abruptly. He smiles and adds softly, "Besides, I did let you off on the payment." She refuses to respond to his attempt at apology.
"It seemed only fair considering Tommy made a different choice. Even if you did make the bribes unfair."
"They were fair," she snaps immediately. "Each one had a catch for him to figure out." She waves her hand impatiently, and the sitcom comes on again. Annoyed, the man snaps, and the television sparks briefly and then dies altogether.
"There was no way he could have chosen anyone but Six with those options." She turns to face him at last, eager to confront him. Or maybe to kill him.
Although the man lowers his voice, trying to sound as reasonable as possible, he refuses to be intimidated by her fury. "Honestly, did you really expect him to leave all his friends in the Delta Quadrant? You don't understand these humans at all."
"Maybe so, but he still could have chosen the spunky one."
"And forego to possibility of making allies along the way? Leaving a trail of misery and pain everywhere they go? That's absurd. They're explorers, not conquerors." He crosses his arms sullenly. "Besides, there wasn't any catch to Six's offer."
"Yes, there was. He didn't know who."
"And you expect that to matter? Love is love, no matter the form." He waits, but she does not concede the point. "You were a free radical electron when I first met you. And I still fell in love. Do you really think it's so different for them?"
She doesn't smile, but looks up to study his eyes for a moment before speaking. "You loved me even back then?" He blushes, but nods.
"From the first moment."
She sits quietly for a moment, then reluctantly smiles. "I guess it was kind of sweet of you to let me out of our bet."
He grins impishly. "Couldn't stand the thought of you in my favorite judge costume for the next millennium."
She laughs, and the musical sound of her happiness makes his smile widen. "I wouldn't have worn that stupid thing anyway." She laughs again at his look of surprise. "As you always say, rules are for mortals."
He claps his hands in delight. "I knew you still had it in you." He puts his arm around her, and she snuggles in next to him. "Even after all these eons."
"And I guess you're right about the two of them. It would've happened eventually. Even without our help." He nods in agreement, brushing a kiss against her hair. "It just would've taken longer."
They share a long gentle kiss before he speaks again. "Some beings are just destined for each other."
Footnote 1: This story is inspired by the Greek myth concerning the judgment of Paris. A summary of that myth, as it applies to this story: the goddess of discord throws a golden apple inscribed "to the fairest" into a party of the gods. All the goddesses want the prize, but the choice is narrowed to three. Zeus is asked to decide, but refuses. He tells them to go ask Paris, a Trojan prince known to be a great judge of beauty. The three goddesses appear before Paris, and he is asked to choose. Not according to who is the most beautiful, but by who offers the best bribe. The first offers to make him lord of the continent, the second to destroy his enemies, and the third to make the most beautiful person his.
Footnote 2: I can't help it: I'm a Latin nerd and a Trekkie. Sometimes those interests combine in scary ways. If anyone is interested, the purple stripe on Q's toga designates him as a Roman senator: the equivalent of his Admiral's uniform. In the myth, the Greek Paris chose love as well, but got the married wife of a rival culture for his prize, Helen of Troy. Not surprisingly, this led to the Trojan War.
Footnote 3: This story contains tons of references to various episodes from multiple Star Trek series. None of them should be necessary to understand the story, so I won't list them all. If anyone has a question about where something is from, please comment and I'll elaborate.
Footnote 4: When Tom was remembering an old sci-fi show about aliens posing as Greek gods, he is referring to the original series episode "Who Mourns for Adonais?" I realize that this breaks the fictional wall, but that's why I didn't have him remember the show. Since he's an established sci-fi fan, I have no problem with this contradiction, but if you do, I'm sure there's some other show with this plot out there somewhere.