It took Q about a day to realize that without something to inspire him, he really wasn't that creative. Ideas just didn't float into his brain on their own. No project came to mind that would both help Voyager and be feasible with its technology.

After a few days, he reluctantly took his dilemma to Icheb.

"I know the last time I asked you for help on an assignment I took advantage of it," he admitted. "But I promise you won't have to do any work. I only need ideas. The rest I can handle myself."

"After the incident with Lieutenant Paris, I have full confidence in your ability to 'handle' the project Captian Janeway has assigned," Icheb said.

Q eyed him. To his limited ears, it sounded as though Icheb had injected a bit of humor into that last statement. "I'm glad somebody thought it was funny," he remarked.

Icheb ignored this. "Give me the parameters of the assignment."

"I have to choose a problem Voyager is experiencing and come up with a feasible solution. Then if the senior officers approve I'll get to put my solution in place."

"That's a broad assignment."

Q suppressed an eye roll. Leave it to drone-boy to state the obvious.

Icheb was silent for a few moments. Q amused himself with imagining he was watching the former Borg's hardware interact with the organic tissue of his brain while he processed the problem.

"I don't have an idea for a project," Icheb finally admitted. "But I have an idea of where you could start."

"Anything that might help."

"You could read through the history of the alterations Voyager has gone through since it arrived in the Delta quadrant and see what sets it apart from other Starfleet ships of its class. It might help you gain perspective on what the ship has needed to continue functioning in the past seven years. I did some research into this topic when I first came aboard Voyager, and the schematic archives are enlightening. Nearly every system has been altered, replaced or enhanced in some way. Voyager was even partially assimilated for a time, when Captain Janeway forged an alliance with the Borg to combat Species 8472. Most Borg technology was removed, but Cargo Bay Two remained permanently altered to accommodate Seven of Nine, and eventually myself and the other Borg children."

"I guess I could start there. It's as good a place as any." Q knew the gist of the ship's seven-year journey thanks to his previous omnipotence, but he hadn't cared very much so his knowledge of the details was sketchy. "Thanks, Ichy."

Icheb looked as though he didn't know whether to be pleased or nonplussed. "I'm happy to help, Q-Ball."

Q just grinned.

-0-0-0-

Icheb had been right; the history of Voyager the starship was pretty interesting. All kinds of modifications had been added and discarded to the Intrepid-class ship over the years. Q buried himself in his research and duty shifts, since he had no Holodeck privileges.

He was vaguely aware of the crew's excitement about something. Q only realized what was going on when Naomi, incandescent with happiness, mentioned that she'd spoken to her father. He knew as well as anyone else that Naomi's father was back in the Alpha quadrant. The crew must have found a way to actually speak with their loved ones at home instead of just sending messages.

The breakthrough meant nothing to him. He could talk to his parents anytime he felt like it. Whether they would answer was another matter entirely.

Icheb also didn't share the general excitement; he'd chosen to leave his family on their home planet and stay on Voyager. All he would say on the subject was that they'd wanted to use him as a weapon against the Borg by getting him assimilated again. Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine had rescued him before he'd been recaptured. Q didn't pry beyond that. After having his own father dig around in his head, he'd gotten a taste of how it felt to have private thoughts seen by someone else. The pair of them spent more time together than usual while the rest of the crew chatted gaily about how great it was to finally see their loved ones after seven years.

Several days after the crew had begun talking to their families, Icheb and Q were silently eating dinner together when Lieutenant Paris unexpectedly appeared beside them carrying his own food.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Ummm…no," Q replied, gesturing to an empty seat at their table.

"So," Paris said as he dug into his dinner, "How is fixing the Holodeck going?"

"We're almost done. Another day or two at the most," Q answered. "Lieutenant Torres wants to replace some of the emitters, so we're running diagnostics to see which ones need to come out." Q was suspicious. Tom had to already know this information. His wife was in charge of the project, for Universe's sake.

"That's good." Paris paused, and lowered his voice. "Do you think you can show me how to access and modify Holoprograms created by someone else?"

"What for?" Q wanted to know, his suspicions deepening. "Just so you know, I haven't created any myself, if you were thinking about getting back at me for what I did to your programs."

"Hasn't even crossed my mind," Paris assured him. "Frankly, in hindsight, it was pretty clever, and I have to give a fellow prankster some respect. But someone else needs a bit of a lesson about creative license. Your modifications to my programs gave me a great idea on how to do it."

"Who?" asked Icheb, speaking for the first time during the conversation.

"The Doc," Tom admitted. "He wrote a Holonovel that…frankly, doesn't paint the crew of this ship in the best light. But he insists it's just fiction and wasn't intended to be hurtful. I want to put things in perspective for him."

Q grinned. "You came to the right place. Meet me in the Holodeck at twenty-one hundred hours, and I'll show you what you need to know."

"Great!" Paris said.

"There's one condition, though," Q added. "I still don't have Holodeck privileges. If you can get the Captain to reinstate them, then we have a deal."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I'll tell her I think you've learned your lesson."

"Oh, believe me, I have," Q smirked.

"How is your research proceeding, Q?" Icheb inquired, deftly changing the subject.

"Research?" Paris wanted to know. The rest of the meal was spent quietly as Q explained the project he'd been assigned by Captain Janeway, and Icheb's suggestion about looking into past modifications to Voyager. Paris wandered off once they'd all finished eating.

"Don't look at me like that," Q said to Icheb when they were alone. "I might not be omnipotent, but for a drone you're not very good at hiding your disapproval. You know I can't refuse a request from a senior officer."

Icheb had to concede this point, but he still didn't look pleased. "You shouldn't be helping anyone to play tricks on someone else."

"Didn't you hear Lieutenant Paris? It's for a good cause. The Doctor can always stand to be taken down a peg or two. Besides, the Captain wants me to channel my abilities into doing productive things. This is the perfect way to do it." Q lightly slapped his friend's shoulder. "C'mon, Ichy, it's not like you'll get in trouble if I step out of line again. Your impeccable reputation won't be tarnished by association with me. I promise."

Icheb did not look reassured.

-0-0-0-

Lieutenant Paris was as good as his word. He met Q in the Holodeck with the news that the Captain had indeed agreed to return his Holodeck time. Q, in turn, showed Paris his bypass secrets into the Doctor's Holonovel.

"Thanks, Q," Tom said, clapping Q on the shoulder. "This is perfect. The Doctor won't know what hit him."

Q left him tinkering. It was nice to be useful. And it seemed all was forgiven as far as his prank on Paris was concerned. Q felt that even though he'd disobeyed the rules, he'd somehow earned his stripes at the same time if people like Tom Paris were coming to him for help on projects. He'd proved he could be more than just a burden on Voyager's resources.

Things seemed to settle down in the next few days, at least for Q. Crew members still bustled about in a happy daze of being able to speak to their families. Q went back to playing games with Naomi, Icheb, and Neelix in his off-duty hours. He tried to ignore the nagging sense of unhappiness he felt every time he overheard someone talking about their families and friends back in the Alpha quadrant. He understood what it was like to miss your home and not know if you were ever going to get back to it. At least these bipeds had a shot at it, though they might be old when they reached Earth. Was it worth it if you accomplished your goal and were then too close to death to enjoy it? he wondered.

Q was heading to another of his diplomacy lessons with Commander Chakotay when he bumped into the Commander going in the opposite direction.

"Oh, Q," Chakotay said. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel our lesson today. Run the next simulation without me and if you have any questions, save them for our next session."

"What's going on?" Q wanted to know.

"I have to take the bridge. The Captain is in a hearing with the Doctor and Starfleet."

Q was immediately on alert. "Is this about his Holonovel?"

Voyager's second-in-command narrowed his eyes, but he didn't question Q about where he'd obtained this knowledge. "Yes. The publisher in the Alpha quadrant is claiming that the Doctor doesn't have creative rights to his work because he isn't legally human and therefore can't be an artist."

Q rolled his eyes. "You people and your legal rules. It's so ridiculous."

"How do you mean?" Chakotay asked with raised eyebrows. "This one is pretty cut-and-dry. You either are or you aren't human."

"You guys haven't seen enough of the universe," Q scoffed. "I assume by 'human' in this case you mean 'sentient and able to create something unique' as opposed to 'biped from planet Earth'. Sentient holograms are nothing compared to some of the other sentient life-forms out there. Some of them probably wouldn't consider organic life-forms capable of art by their definition, either. That's what makes being a Q so great. You can experience all of what the universe has to offer, not just what's limited by your physiology."

"An interesting perspective." Chakotay nodded. "You might want to share these insights with Commander Tuvok. He's in charge of the Doctor's legal defense." He patted Q's shoulder and strode off.

Q had no idea what made him obey Chakotay. He didn't like the Doctor, and he wasn't very fond of Commander Tuvok, either. But the next time he saw the Vulcan in the corridors, he stopped him and repeated what he'd told Chakotay, ending with "I thought it might help with the Doctor's defense."

"Your concern is appreciated," Tuvok said. Q refrained from saying he didn't much care one way or another. There was no point in arguing with a Vulcan. "However," Tuvok continued, "The Q perspective on what constitutes a sentient being may not present much relevance to legal proceedings on Earth."

Q shrugged. "It was Commander's Chakotay's idea to tell you, not mine. It just seems silly to me to argue over something like this. The Doctor created the thing and he obviously didn't just repeat it from somewhere else as if he were a mere dumb machine following orders."

He got a raised eyebrow for this remark. "I will take your insights into consideration when preparing my defense."

That was all, but Q expected nothing else. When he heard from Commander Chakotay a few days later that the Doctor had won his case as an artist even if he hadn't been declared legally a human, Q spared only a few thoughts to wonder if his contributions had led to the outcome. In fact, he had to remind himself rather sternly that he didn't care and he shouldn't feel proud at all to have helped advanced these lowly humans.

-0-0-0-

Days began stretching into weeks. Life on Voyager continued. Away missions left and returned. The ship even survived a crisis or two, but Q was not directly involved in any of it beyond his normal duties in a support capacity. He continued his research but still hadn't hit on a project that he deemed interesting enough.

Naomi came skipping into a Hoverball game wild with excitement one day. Q had been on Voyager for nearly two months, by their human calendar.

"What's the occasion?" asked Tom Paris, who had agreed to make up the fourth person in the game on this particular day.

"Neelix and I are planning a First Contact Day celebration!" she exclaimed happily. "We'll make special foods and play music that was popular when First Contact was made and all kinds of things! It's going to be so much fun!"

Q and Icheb exchanged puzzled glances. Paris, however, brightened. "That sounds like a great idea. We haven't had a shipwide party in awhile."

"Probably not since your marriage to Lieutenant Torres," Icheb agreed. "But what's First Contact Day?"

"A commemoration of the day humans first made contact with extraterrestrials," Naomi said importantly. "That's what the computer says, anyway."

"On Earth, there are usually big speeches by all sorts of important people made about peace and friendship. Because the species we first contacted were the Vulcans, the Vulcan ambassador to Earth makes the biggest speech." Paris chuckled nostalgically. "Well, by 'biggest' I mean 'most important'. It's usually less than ninety words in length. Old Ambassador Spock had it down to twenty-five words one year when I was ten. I think he holds the record."

"You counted?" Q asked.

"When you're a kid forced to go to those kinds of ceremonies year after year, you have to find some way to entertain yourself," Paris replied. "And you're grateful for a short speech," he added.

"Do you think we can get Tuvok to give a speech?" Naomi asked. "He's the most important Vulcan on Voyager."

"I doubt it," Q chuckled. The Vulcan was not known for being verbose.

"But it can't hurt to ask," Paris said when Naomi looked disappointed. "Make it something simple, like the first words the Vulcans spoke when they arrived on Earth."

The little girl brightened. "They're not so hard. Maybe I can get him to do that."

"How do you know they're not hard?" inquired Icheb.

"Everyone knows what they are," Naomi said.

"Live long and prosper," Q and Tom recited with her.

"Hey, how did you know?" Naomi demanded of Q.

Q tapped his temple smugly. "Omnipotent."

"You're not anymore." Naomi propped her hands on her hips in mock sternness.

"Honestly, you spend more than thirty seconds of your time around Vulcans, it's not hard to guess," Q replied. "Are we going to play or not?"

They settled down into their game, then parted for their usual duties.

For the next few days, every time Q saw Naomi she was full of more details about the party. Chatter about Neelix had had this idea or that, or they'd decided to serve a certain food. She was so enthusiastic, Q found himself looking forward to it even though the celebration made little sense to him. Why commemorate anniversaries like this? He thought he understood the concept of birthdays. Many species found the day one came into the world important and celebrated accordingly. If one marked time by the rotation of a planet, then there would naturally be an anniversary of that date every time the planet went through one revolution around its star. Even he had a birthday, though on the human temporal plane he was about four years old, barely out of infanthood. Good thing that as a Q he'd had a choice about appearance when he took human shape or he'd be stuck in a body even more weak and helpless than Naomi Wildman's.

But this commemoration of an event that had happened hundreds of years before was harder to grasp. No one on board ship, not even the oldest Vulcan, had been alive at their so-called "First Contact" with humans.

Icheb was even more baffled than Q by the whole affair. Among the Borg, each day was the same as the one before it, culturally speaking. It was part of the sameness and equality that made up the perfection they sought. Just as no Borg was set apart from its fellows, so no day was set apart for any special attention.

Neelix overheard them discussing this in the Mess Hall. "It's not about remembering the day itself exactly as it was, boys," he explained. "Anniversaries and holidays are a healthy departure from an otherwise mundane schedule. They're a time to focus on something else for a change and to reflect back on the past. It's good for morale. You'll see."

The day of the party arrived. Q attended out of pure curiosity. Icheb was still busy and wouldn't be able to attend at the times Q had off, so he made his way to the Mess Hall alone.

Music was warbling its way out of a thing Naomi had called an antique "jukebox" in the corner of the room. Much of the crew was milling around, talking in loud, cheerful voices and carrying small containers of food and beverages. Even Aunt Kathy was here, more relaxed than Q had ever seen her.

"Welcome, welcome!" Neelix bustled up, carrying a tray of food. "Pirogi?"

Q took one of the little pockets and automatically put it in his mouth. He knew from Naomi that this was a food that had been a favorite of the human that had invented warp drive for their species. All food was a new experience to him, some good, some bad, but this particular sensation was quite pleasant.

Neelix grinned at his expression. "Enjoy the party!"

Q wandered the fringe of the room, sampling food and shamelessly eavesdropping on conversations. He never got enough chances to do this. Though it was still annoying to be able to focus on only one group of people at a time, just the very act of learning so much about his shipmates at a time made him feel more Q-like. Most of what he learned was trivial, but it was the principle of the thing.

"May I have everyone's attention, please?" Neelix called from the opposite end of the room. "In honor of the three hundred and fifteenth anniversary of his ancestors' arrival on Earth, I've asked Mr. Tuvok to recite the first words spoken to humans by a Vulcan." Everyone murmured appreciatively. "Commander?" Neelix beckoned the Vulcan forward.

Q had to suppress an amused snort at Tuvok's expression. The imposing man was practically radiating reluctance and disdain. "Is this really necessary?" he wanted to know.

Now Q had to cover his mouth to hide the laugh bubbling there. In any other species than a Vulcan, Tuvok's voice would have carried a slight whine. It seemed even the most stoic could be discomfited at these kinds of semi-formalized rituals. In Q's mind, that was a perfect reason to have them.

"You promised!" hissed Neelix.

Tuvok glanced around, clearly noting the expectant smiles of the entire room. "Very well." He raised his hand, fingers split in the formal Vulcan gesture of goodwill. "Live long, and prosper."

The whole crew, from the lowest crewman to Captain Janeway, applauded as if something exciting had just happened. Q watched with amazement. Biped culture really was strange at times.

Neelix started the music up again and began to dance with enthusiasm. "C'mon, Mr. Vulcan!" he encouraged.

Tuvok looked, if possible, even more put out. "Vulcans do not dance."

"But it's tradition!" protested Neelix, still gyrating blithely.

"There is no tradition, Mr. Neelix. This ceremony is entirely your invention."

"This is an official ship function, Commander," broke in Aunt Kathy. "Don't make me order you to dance." Q had never seen that sardonic look on her face before, and he had to applaud her for hiding her sense of humor so well until now. It was nice to see that she had one. And that she'd use it to torment one of her officers in a friendly way. Even better.

Commander Chakotay arrived from the Bridge. He spoke with his Captain briefly, then called Neelix over. Q drifted closer to listen.

"—detected several hundred life signs approximately four point nine lightyears away," Chakotay was saying. He looked at Neelix. "They're Talaxian."

Neelix looked like he'd been hit over the head with one of his cooking pots.

"Set a course, Commander," ordered Janeway.

"Aye, Captain."

Chakotay left, and the party continued. Neelix was still in a daze and couldn't seem to concentrate, so Naomi made sure everything else they'd planned happened. Fortunately there wasn't much; the main point of the whole thing seemed to be mingling and sampling foods. Overall, Naomi concluded the next day, the First Contact Day party was a success. Q still didn't quite understand, but figured if she deemed it a success then by human standards it probably was. He'd just have to accept it as an inexplicable feature of their culture.

"There are some things about mortal cultures we'll just never understand," sighed a voice from beside Q as he contemplated this in his quarters that night.

"Hey, Dad."

"I have to say you seem to be adapting quite well. Must be because you're young."

"What do you want?"

"Just to let you know, the entire Continuum is now watching your progress eagerly. It's the most entertainment we've had in…well, who knows how long."

"Glad to know I'm being helpful. Savior of the Continuum and all."

"You might just be," grinned the older Q. "Keep it up, son, keep it up." He patted Q's shoulder affectionately and vanished again.

"So, no pressure or anything," Q muttered. Deep down, he had to admit it was nice to see his father again, however briefly. He'd missed his dad. Just a little.

He thought he heard a faint, gleeful chuckle that he quickly dismissed.