WEEK 1, DAY 2
The virus was history by now. Soon, however, there would be a ground-breaking event in the history of the Universe. One more day, Beverly kept thinking, just one more day. Still, today would be entertaining enough. The thought of Picard with pre-menstrual tension would've been enough. Another thought did spring to her mind. "Should I tell Deanna about it? No, let her work it out for herself. I mean, the moment she senses Picard feeling paternal to anyone would be frightening enough."
Picard awoke in tears. 'A nightmare.' he thought. But he'd never reacted like that. Couldn't even remember what it was. "I don't know, when's the last time I had any extended leave? I do need a break."
His nightrobe was soaked in sweat, and it was making Picard feel clammy and annoyed. "Damned thing!" he raged as he tried to tear it off, and he did just that. The thing split in two. "OHHH!!!" Hurling the remains of the robe away (which knocked over one of his golden ship models) in a huff he stormed to the shower, stubbing his toe on a table. He tried to hold in a silent scream, but eventually had to let it go. "AAAGH!! Who moved the table over there!?"
"What's going on?" Picard asked himself later. "I've never been in this bad a mood since I was locked in the turbolift with those... euurrgh! Children!" He shuddered at the memory. In the last hour he'd sworn at the table, the shower nozzle for spraying the water too hard, the soap for slipping out of his hands, the air being too cold after he turned the water off, the water for being too cold and then too hot, the computer for making his tea too cold and then too hot, his tea for spilling on his uniform, his uniform for being too tight and unabsorbent, his hair for deserting him, his nose, bed, entire quarters, Jack Crusher, and almost everything else he could think of. He hadn't sworn this many times in the last seventeen years. "I just haven't had enough sleep." Picard decided. "A bit of relaxation time in the holodeck, everything would be fine..."
His comm badge stole his attention away. "Bridge to Picard," Riker hailed. "You're needed up here, Captain."
"Oh, all right!" Picard shouted. "On my way. I don't get any peace on this ship."
Riker was momentarily stunned. "....thank you sir."
"He damned well should thank me." Picard moaned to himself. "The man just can't handle this ship on his own. None of these people can! If it weren't for me holding their hands, they'd all have been killed YEARS ago."
"Ahhh, yes sir. Your contribution to Starfleet is well appreciated." Riker replied cautiously. Picard hadn't turned off his comm badge.
"Are you still listening to me Riker!? What kind of eavesdropping pervert are you?"
"I wasn't listening in, you just forgot to--"
"Oh, so *I* FORGOT!!!!" Picard interrupted. "You know, you can turn off your badge as well! Or did you momentarily forget that?! Can't you leave me alone for one second!"
"It was an accident sir, I'm very sorry." Riker said in the voice of one who nabbed the last bit of pizza. "If you prefer we could handle this problem ourselves--"
Again Picard butted in. "NO! I'm coming up now. I've got to make sure you lot don't do anything idiotic while I'm not looking. Picard OUT! Did you hear that Riker? Picard... OUT!!" He punched his comm badge to turn it off and broke his thumb. "OOOW! Oh, damn it!" Checking that his ribs were still intact, he stomped out of his quarters towards the turbolifts.
Upon arriving on the bridge, Picard was stared at by everyone on the bridge through the corners of their eyes. Only Data continued his work unerringly. Picard, of course, saw all this. "What are you all looking at? Haven't you seen me come onto the bridge before? It's quite common, you know! Get back to work!"
As one the crew all did just that, but occasionally they stole quick glances at him. He strode over to the Captains' chair and fell into it with a sigh of annoyance. "Alright Number One, what is it?"
Troi was sitting in the other chair, and was sensing far more emotion than she cared to. For a moment Riker stared at Picard before he realised he had spoken. "Oh, uh yes sir. We're approaching a huge nebula cloud that is on screen sir. It would take an extra three days to go around it."
"So?" Picard's eyes narrowed in imminent homicide.
Riker was looking even more uncomfortable. 'The Captain isn't normally that shade of red, is he?' he thought. "So, um, what do you suggest we do?"
Picard spat out a gust of breath. "Well what do you think? What do we normally do? On this ship there is something that we call a PROCEDURE! Do you remember that? Good Lord! Data, what can you tell me about the cloud?"
"Scanners are detecting nothing dangerous sir, except a small amount of an unidentified form of radiation."
"And what does this mean?"
Data kept working with his instruments without looking up, just as he usually did. "I cannot say sir. I do not have any knowledge of this type of cloud."
"WHY NOT!?" Picard shouted all of a sudden, leaning forward in the chair as his face turned purple, the veins in his neck visibly pulsing. "You are supposed to be our SCIENCE officer! And you don't know!?"
Data slowly turned around, his amber eyes wide open in a truly blank expression. He had no idea how to respond. The truth seemed the only remotely viable option. "No sir, I do not know. No records give any recorded entries of encountering this type of nebula."
Picard leapt to his feet. "And I AM SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT IT!! I'm supposed to know how to handle it! The entire Federation knows nothing about it! Not us, not the Klingons, my Science Officer - the best in Star Fleet - he doesn't know anything either, but I DO, DO I!!?!" Picard was spitting as he screamed at the entire bridge. "Oooh yes! Let's call the Captain! He knows everything, doesn't he? Well guess what children! I DON'T!!! I AM ONLY HUMAN!! For God's sake!" He turned his rage back onto poor Data. "What kind of bucket of rust android are you!? You're supposed to be the greatest scientific achievement of the Alliance! The crown achievement of Dr. Soong's so-called genius!! And what do I get? You DON'T KNOW!! If you don't know, what the hell use are you?! I am just about fed up with you Data! You're always whining about 'wanting to gain emotional experience', or 'becoming more human' blah blah blah. WELL YOU CAN'T!!! YOU ARE AN ANDROID!! GET THAT?!! DROID!! MACHINE!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!!?!" He stood staring at Data, panting for breath and clenching his fists.
Data's only reaction was a slight jerk of the head. His face held his completely blank look, and it only made Picard even more enraged. The entire bridge was staring directly at him now, and it wasn't long before Troi made that most tragic mistake someone could make.
"Captain, are you all right?"
Of course I'm all right. Naturally. I'm always like this. Sense this, you stupid tart, I'm going to disembowel you if you ask another idiotic question like that!
Picard slowly turned around, and stared straight at Troi. She unconsciously backed further into her chair, a look of pure terror on her face. Picard's face, however, slowly turned from a picture of rage to a sort of maniacal peace.
"Yes, yes. I'm fine! I'm just fine." Picard stared at Troi for a while. He giggled a bit. "Just fine. Of course I'm okay. Perfectly alright." He was looking up at the viewscreen by now, telling himself how fine he felt and smiling like Lore. "Naturally. I'm perfectly calm. No problems at all... nothing wrong with me... no worries... at... all... couldn't be happier..."
He kept on reassuring himself as he slowly walked off the bridge, followed by twenty eyes. "What could be wrong with me? I'm fine! Just fine." Picard had reached the turbolift when Riker broke his spell.
"So, what should we do about the cloud Captain?"
"JUST GO THROUGH IT!!!! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!!!" The lift shut. The noiseproof walls still couldn't hide the machinegunning of expletives Picard let loose.
Even the hum of the engines seemed silent after he left. No one could speak. Data was still trying to figure out what crime he committed to deserve that kind of tearing off. Troi's mind was reeling from reading Picard's emotions. Finally Riker spoke. "I suppose you could call that a direct order."
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WEEK 1, DAY 3
Word of yesterday's incident, as well as a few other things Picard got up to afterwards spread rapidly, gossip being the second fastest thing in the universe to bad news. "What came over Picard like that?" "He's never shouted like that!" "And on the BRIDGE!!?" There were as many people concerned about it as there were laughing about it. Some said it was some alien possession. Others thought it was about time Jean-Luc loosened up a bit.
But no one was as cheerful about it as Dr. Crusher. She was in heaven! 'Vengeance is MINE!!!' she thought proudly. It took a lot of work, but it was worth it. Worth it all. "And the fun's barely started! That was just the pre-game entertainment. Here comes the real thing..."
0821, ship time. Still very weary from the emotional exertion the previous day put him through, Picard was preparing himself for the day ahead. What was to come in only a few minutes there was no possible way of preparing for - even if he knew it was coming he still would've had no idea what was happening.
As it was, he had just put on his uniform when the "event" came to pass. It was an experience he would relive in many nightmares to come, both real and sleep-induced. One moment, all was well. Smooth out the wrinkles in the uniform, no problems. All of a sudden Picard felt a very painful cramp in his abdomen area. The unexpected stab-like rush of pain stunned his brain into THOUGHT=OFF mode. 'What's this?' he pondered after getting his senses back in order. It didn't seem to be settling down at all, if anything it was becoming slightly more painful.
And then.
Then...
The moment arrived.
Completely unbidden, totally unexpected, Picard felt 'something happen' in his trousers. A moment of confusion followed, and then he got the first clue what it was. Stunned into paralysis, Picard could only stammer out "What the hell is going on here!?" His first thought was that he had somehow lost bladder control. VERY suddenly. Taking the time to make a detailed scientific inspection of what it was (ie: he rubbed his hand down there and had a look what was on it), he saw the terrifying truth.
Blood. Blood? BLOOD!!????!? What? How? Where? How? Why? What? How? Why? What? Questions rocketed through his brain, and he couldn't find any answers. If anything, the questions seemed to be breeding and were multiplying in numbers dramatically. The feeling was like nothing he had ever wanted to know. Even though the amount of blood was small, it felt as if someone had poured a jar of honey in the front of his underwear. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling to him, and an utterly awful one as well.
Still frozen to the spot, Picard finally decided how to fix this with three simple steps:
a) Get cleaned up,
b) Get to Sick Bay,
c) Since I can't, find someone else who can work out what the hell's going on here.
"Right, I'll do that." Picard reassured himself, still trying to convince his legs to move. By now he was getting very annoyed at what happened. Shock had given way to anger, and he was keen to find someone to blame.
After a shower, a new uniform, and a series of confused expressions in the mirror, Jean-Luc tried to make himself look authoritative for the day. If the crew found out about this, he would become the biggest laughing stock on the Enterprise since Riker caught an STD from an alien female, and his entire genitalia just fell off and slid down the leg of his uniform, making a simple kick in the shins a fine substitute for a stun phaser.
The best thing Picard could think of in his harrowed state of mind was to march. And so he did. Marching along the corridors, he felt his confidence coming back to him. He felt that it gave him an air of officialdom, of authority. Unfortunately, judging by the sniggering he constantly heard behind him, it also seemed to give him an air of silliness.
O'Brien was also preparing to go on duty. However, he was in a much more happy mood than Picard could possibly be. And O'Brien, albeit innocently, made a dreadful mistake.
It was something he did quite commonly. There was no malice in his actions at all. On any other day it would have been no bad thing, perhaps something quite cheerful. But today, it was a horrific thing to do.
He was singing.
Alas, being the Irishman that he was, O'Brien was a patriot of Ireland, and (like so many of his other Celtic cousins) he insisted on singing songs about his homeland, even though he'd never even been there. Just as Scotsmen on the Enterprise sang about Robert the Bruce and the battle of Bonnockburn - even though they knew nothing about either of them, O'Brien sang about the Green, Green Hills of Ireland - completely oblivious of the fact that the hills he sung of were no longer green, and were also no longer (strictly speaking) hills either, since they had been strip-mined of anything they could have possibly possessed decades ago.
The singing, in itself, was forgivable. Irish folk songs have a great charm to them. The problem was O'Brien had to sing it in the great but unmistakable Irish style - a dreaded, nasal E-flat tone, known and hated the universe over.
Oh, won't you stay...
Stay a little while with your own ones
Don't ever stray
Stray so far from your own one
And so on and so on.
Beautiful and meaningful as it was, its' meaning was lost on Picard whilst in this state. With his patience at an all-time low, Picard had no time to care about Irish family values.
Oh, the world is so cold
Don't care nothing for your soul
You share, with yo--
"SHUTUP!!!" Picard shouted, enforcing the silence he wanted both with his authoritative voice and a clenched fist.
O'Brien was left stunned in Picard's wake. It took him a minute to work out that someone had punched him, and another four minutes to work out that it was Picard. The Captain punched me?? Bloody Frogs!
Upon entering the bridge, all was as normal. Picard by now had regained his composure and was, as Data would put it "functioning correctly".
Data would later rephrase that to "strangely erratic".
The day passed by without major incident, provided you consider, for example, the demolition of a planet a minor incident. But towards the end of his stint on the bridge the Enterprise encountered that triggered Picard.
"Something coming up on sensors, sir." the helmsasexualalien announced.
"On screen." Picard replied.
The image on the screen changed from a view of the stars to another view of the stars with a miniscule glint in the centre of screen.
Picard waited. And waited "Well?"
"Well what, sir?"
"Magnify, you idiot! Isn't it obvious?"
"Oh... uh, yes sir."
The image changed again, and there floating in space was one of the Borg.
Picard gagged momentarily. His eyes widened, and he stopped blinking. No one else reacted at all. "Orders, sir?" the helm asked.
Jean-Luc didn't move. After a while he was receiving a few stares. Still his gaze was fixed at the Borg in horror. He started shaking slightly, and sweat was starting to appear.
"Sir?" Worf prompted. Still no response. After a few more seconds Picard let out a strangled scream of panic and sprinted into his ready room.
The bridge was stunned. By the time they had asked themselves what they should do now the Enterprise had run into the Borg in question, rendering it into something closer to a stew.
After a minute or so, Worf went into the ready room to see what Picard was doing. He was sobbing at his desk. "Captain, is there a problem?" Worf asked in some concern.
Jean-Luc slowly brought his head up. Worf, being unfamiliar with the sight of a male crying, was stunned to see Picard's red-rimmed eyes and his shortness of breath. He thought Picard must have something wrong with him, and he immediately called Sickbay. In the meantime, he walked over to Picard in some concern, thinking what he could do to stop the swelling in Picard's eyes, when he immediately had two arms flung around him and his waist was put into a bear hug.
At least that's what he first thought. Closer inspection showed Picard was just hugging him. Worf had been subjected to many embraces, but usually from happy comrades after a victory of some sort. Picard was clearly not a happy comrade right now, and there had been no recent victory to speak of. Worf had no idea what to do.
"Oh Worf!" Picard was crying. "Don't let them hurt me again! Don't let the Borg take me away!" he continued a tirade of pleas to not let the Big Bad Borg get him, unaware that the Borg in question was now only posing a cleaning problem.
Worf was lost. His widened eyes were scanning the room for any unseen eyes that might be seeing this embarrassing scene, and perhaps for someone else who could take over. He looked down again, and gently patted Picard's head - he couldn't think of anything else to do.
Picard continued unabated, then suddenly stopped. He looked up at stared at Worf, right into his eyes. Worf tried to break the stare, but he felt compelled to listen.
"Thank you, Worf. Thank you for being my friend."
This wasn't the first time that Worf had wished that he was back in the wars again. Luckily for him a few seconds later the crew from Sickbay arrived. Unluckily for him they were treated to a very rare sight indeed. Three of the medics were only just holding back their laughter. Two of them were only just failing.
Worf remained completely silent whilst they disentangled him from Picard's grasp, and took over the situation. He very quickly marched out of the ready room and resumed his post as if nothing had happened. Over the next eight weeks the braver members of the crew went to great pains to remind Worf of this event and gave themselves a great laugh over it.
Of course, Worf would eventually have the last laugh.
The virus was history by now. Soon, however, there would be a ground-breaking event in the history of the Universe. One more day, Beverly kept thinking, just one more day. Still, today would be entertaining enough. The thought of Picard with pre-menstrual tension would've been enough. Another thought did spring to her mind. "Should I tell Deanna about it? No, let her work it out for herself. I mean, the moment she senses Picard feeling paternal to anyone would be frightening enough."
Picard awoke in tears. 'A nightmare.' he thought. But he'd never reacted like that. Couldn't even remember what it was. "I don't know, when's the last time I had any extended leave? I do need a break."
His nightrobe was soaked in sweat, and it was making Picard feel clammy and annoyed. "Damned thing!" he raged as he tried to tear it off, and he did just that. The thing split in two. "OHHH!!!" Hurling the remains of the robe away (which knocked over one of his golden ship models) in a huff he stormed to the shower, stubbing his toe on a table. He tried to hold in a silent scream, but eventually had to let it go. "AAAGH!! Who moved the table over there!?"
"What's going on?" Picard asked himself later. "I've never been in this bad a mood since I was locked in the turbolift with those... euurrgh! Children!" He shuddered at the memory. In the last hour he'd sworn at the table, the shower nozzle for spraying the water too hard, the soap for slipping out of his hands, the air being too cold after he turned the water off, the water for being too cold and then too hot, the computer for making his tea too cold and then too hot, his tea for spilling on his uniform, his uniform for being too tight and unabsorbent, his hair for deserting him, his nose, bed, entire quarters, Jack Crusher, and almost everything else he could think of. He hadn't sworn this many times in the last seventeen years. "I just haven't had enough sleep." Picard decided. "A bit of relaxation time in the holodeck, everything would be fine..."
His comm badge stole his attention away. "Bridge to Picard," Riker hailed. "You're needed up here, Captain."
"Oh, all right!" Picard shouted. "On my way. I don't get any peace on this ship."
Riker was momentarily stunned. "....thank you sir."
"He damned well should thank me." Picard moaned to himself. "The man just can't handle this ship on his own. None of these people can! If it weren't for me holding their hands, they'd all have been killed YEARS ago."
"Ahhh, yes sir. Your contribution to Starfleet is well appreciated." Riker replied cautiously. Picard hadn't turned off his comm badge.
"Are you still listening to me Riker!? What kind of eavesdropping pervert are you?"
"I wasn't listening in, you just forgot to--"
"Oh, so *I* FORGOT!!!!" Picard interrupted. "You know, you can turn off your badge as well! Or did you momentarily forget that?! Can't you leave me alone for one second!"
"It was an accident sir, I'm very sorry." Riker said in the voice of one who nabbed the last bit of pizza. "If you prefer we could handle this problem ourselves--"
Again Picard butted in. "NO! I'm coming up now. I've got to make sure you lot don't do anything idiotic while I'm not looking. Picard OUT! Did you hear that Riker? Picard... OUT!!" He punched his comm badge to turn it off and broke his thumb. "OOOW! Oh, damn it!" Checking that his ribs were still intact, he stomped out of his quarters towards the turbolifts.
Upon arriving on the bridge, Picard was stared at by everyone on the bridge through the corners of their eyes. Only Data continued his work unerringly. Picard, of course, saw all this. "What are you all looking at? Haven't you seen me come onto the bridge before? It's quite common, you know! Get back to work!"
As one the crew all did just that, but occasionally they stole quick glances at him. He strode over to the Captains' chair and fell into it with a sigh of annoyance. "Alright Number One, what is it?"
Troi was sitting in the other chair, and was sensing far more emotion than she cared to. For a moment Riker stared at Picard before he realised he had spoken. "Oh, uh yes sir. We're approaching a huge nebula cloud that is on screen sir. It would take an extra three days to go around it."
"So?" Picard's eyes narrowed in imminent homicide.
Riker was looking even more uncomfortable. 'The Captain isn't normally that shade of red, is he?' he thought. "So, um, what do you suggest we do?"
Picard spat out a gust of breath. "Well what do you think? What do we normally do? On this ship there is something that we call a PROCEDURE! Do you remember that? Good Lord! Data, what can you tell me about the cloud?"
"Scanners are detecting nothing dangerous sir, except a small amount of an unidentified form of radiation."
"And what does this mean?"
Data kept working with his instruments without looking up, just as he usually did. "I cannot say sir. I do not have any knowledge of this type of cloud."
"WHY NOT!?" Picard shouted all of a sudden, leaning forward in the chair as his face turned purple, the veins in his neck visibly pulsing. "You are supposed to be our SCIENCE officer! And you don't know!?"
Data slowly turned around, his amber eyes wide open in a truly blank expression. He had no idea how to respond. The truth seemed the only remotely viable option. "No sir, I do not know. No records give any recorded entries of encountering this type of nebula."
Picard leapt to his feet. "And I AM SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT IT!! I'm supposed to know how to handle it! The entire Federation knows nothing about it! Not us, not the Klingons, my Science Officer - the best in Star Fleet - he doesn't know anything either, but I DO, DO I!!?!" Picard was spitting as he screamed at the entire bridge. "Oooh yes! Let's call the Captain! He knows everything, doesn't he? Well guess what children! I DON'T!!! I AM ONLY HUMAN!! For God's sake!" He turned his rage back onto poor Data. "What kind of bucket of rust android are you!? You're supposed to be the greatest scientific achievement of the Alliance! The crown achievement of Dr. Soong's so-called genius!! And what do I get? You DON'T KNOW!! If you don't know, what the hell use are you?! I am just about fed up with you Data! You're always whining about 'wanting to gain emotional experience', or 'becoming more human' blah blah blah. WELL YOU CAN'T!!! YOU ARE AN ANDROID!! GET THAT?!! DROID!! MACHINE!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!!?!" He stood staring at Data, panting for breath and clenching his fists.
Data's only reaction was a slight jerk of the head. His face held his completely blank look, and it only made Picard even more enraged. The entire bridge was staring directly at him now, and it wasn't long before Troi made that most tragic mistake someone could make.
"Captain, are you all right?"
Of course I'm all right. Naturally. I'm always like this. Sense this, you stupid tart, I'm going to disembowel you if you ask another idiotic question like that!
Picard slowly turned around, and stared straight at Troi. She unconsciously backed further into her chair, a look of pure terror on her face. Picard's face, however, slowly turned from a picture of rage to a sort of maniacal peace.
"Yes, yes. I'm fine! I'm just fine." Picard stared at Troi for a while. He giggled a bit. "Just fine. Of course I'm okay. Perfectly alright." He was looking up at the viewscreen by now, telling himself how fine he felt and smiling like Lore. "Naturally. I'm perfectly calm. No problems at all... nothing wrong with me... no worries... at... all... couldn't be happier..."
He kept on reassuring himself as he slowly walked off the bridge, followed by twenty eyes. "What could be wrong with me? I'm fine! Just fine." Picard had reached the turbolift when Riker broke his spell.
"So, what should we do about the cloud Captain?"
"JUST GO THROUGH IT!!!! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!!!" The lift shut. The noiseproof walls still couldn't hide the machinegunning of expletives Picard let loose.
Even the hum of the engines seemed silent after he left. No one could speak. Data was still trying to figure out what crime he committed to deserve that kind of tearing off. Troi's mind was reeling from reading Picard's emotions. Finally Riker spoke. "I suppose you could call that a direct order."
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WEEK 1, DAY 3
Word of yesterday's incident, as well as a few other things Picard got up to afterwards spread rapidly, gossip being the second fastest thing in the universe to bad news. "What came over Picard like that?" "He's never shouted like that!" "And on the BRIDGE!!?" There were as many people concerned about it as there were laughing about it. Some said it was some alien possession. Others thought it was about time Jean-Luc loosened up a bit.
But no one was as cheerful about it as Dr. Crusher. She was in heaven! 'Vengeance is MINE!!!' she thought proudly. It took a lot of work, but it was worth it. Worth it all. "And the fun's barely started! That was just the pre-game entertainment. Here comes the real thing..."
0821, ship time. Still very weary from the emotional exertion the previous day put him through, Picard was preparing himself for the day ahead. What was to come in only a few minutes there was no possible way of preparing for - even if he knew it was coming he still would've had no idea what was happening.
As it was, he had just put on his uniform when the "event" came to pass. It was an experience he would relive in many nightmares to come, both real and sleep-induced. One moment, all was well. Smooth out the wrinkles in the uniform, no problems. All of a sudden Picard felt a very painful cramp in his abdomen area. The unexpected stab-like rush of pain stunned his brain into THOUGHT=OFF mode. 'What's this?' he pondered after getting his senses back in order. It didn't seem to be settling down at all, if anything it was becoming slightly more painful.
And then.
Then...
The moment arrived.
Completely unbidden, totally unexpected, Picard felt 'something happen' in his trousers. A moment of confusion followed, and then he got the first clue what it was. Stunned into paralysis, Picard could only stammer out "What the hell is going on here!?" His first thought was that he had somehow lost bladder control. VERY suddenly. Taking the time to make a detailed scientific inspection of what it was (ie: he rubbed his hand down there and had a look what was on it), he saw the terrifying truth.
Blood. Blood? BLOOD!!????!? What? How? Where? How? Why? What? How? Why? What? Questions rocketed through his brain, and he couldn't find any answers. If anything, the questions seemed to be breeding and were multiplying in numbers dramatically. The feeling was like nothing he had ever wanted to know. Even though the amount of blood was small, it felt as if someone had poured a jar of honey in the front of his underwear. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling to him, and an utterly awful one as well.
Still frozen to the spot, Picard finally decided how to fix this with three simple steps:
a) Get cleaned up,
b) Get to Sick Bay,
c) Since I can't, find someone else who can work out what the hell's going on here.
"Right, I'll do that." Picard reassured himself, still trying to convince his legs to move. By now he was getting very annoyed at what happened. Shock had given way to anger, and he was keen to find someone to blame.
After a shower, a new uniform, and a series of confused expressions in the mirror, Jean-Luc tried to make himself look authoritative for the day. If the crew found out about this, he would become the biggest laughing stock on the Enterprise since Riker caught an STD from an alien female, and his entire genitalia just fell off and slid down the leg of his uniform, making a simple kick in the shins a fine substitute for a stun phaser.
The best thing Picard could think of in his harrowed state of mind was to march. And so he did. Marching along the corridors, he felt his confidence coming back to him. He felt that it gave him an air of officialdom, of authority. Unfortunately, judging by the sniggering he constantly heard behind him, it also seemed to give him an air of silliness.
O'Brien was also preparing to go on duty. However, he was in a much more happy mood than Picard could possibly be. And O'Brien, albeit innocently, made a dreadful mistake.
It was something he did quite commonly. There was no malice in his actions at all. On any other day it would have been no bad thing, perhaps something quite cheerful. But today, it was a horrific thing to do.
He was singing.
Alas, being the Irishman that he was, O'Brien was a patriot of Ireland, and (like so many of his other Celtic cousins) he insisted on singing songs about his homeland, even though he'd never even been there. Just as Scotsmen on the Enterprise sang about Robert the Bruce and the battle of Bonnockburn - even though they knew nothing about either of them, O'Brien sang about the Green, Green Hills of Ireland - completely oblivious of the fact that the hills he sung of were no longer green, and were also no longer (strictly speaking) hills either, since they had been strip-mined of anything they could have possibly possessed decades ago.
The singing, in itself, was forgivable. Irish folk songs have a great charm to them. The problem was O'Brien had to sing it in the great but unmistakable Irish style - a dreaded, nasal E-flat tone, known and hated the universe over.
Oh, won't you stay...
Stay a little while with your own ones
Don't ever stray
Stray so far from your own one
And so on and so on.
Beautiful and meaningful as it was, its' meaning was lost on Picard whilst in this state. With his patience at an all-time low, Picard had no time to care about Irish family values.
Oh, the world is so cold
Don't care nothing for your soul
You share, with yo--
"SHUTUP!!!" Picard shouted, enforcing the silence he wanted both with his authoritative voice and a clenched fist.
O'Brien was left stunned in Picard's wake. It took him a minute to work out that someone had punched him, and another four minutes to work out that it was Picard. The Captain punched me?? Bloody Frogs!
Upon entering the bridge, all was as normal. Picard by now had regained his composure and was, as Data would put it "functioning correctly".
Data would later rephrase that to "strangely erratic".
The day passed by without major incident, provided you consider, for example, the demolition of a planet a minor incident. But towards the end of his stint on the bridge the Enterprise encountered that triggered Picard.
"Something coming up on sensors, sir." the helmsasexualalien announced.
"On screen." Picard replied.
The image on the screen changed from a view of the stars to another view of the stars with a miniscule glint in the centre of screen.
Picard waited. And waited "Well?"
"Well what, sir?"
"Magnify, you idiot! Isn't it obvious?"
"Oh... uh, yes sir."
The image changed again, and there floating in space was one of the Borg.
Picard gagged momentarily. His eyes widened, and he stopped blinking. No one else reacted at all. "Orders, sir?" the helm asked.
Jean-Luc didn't move. After a while he was receiving a few stares. Still his gaze was fixed at the Borg in horror. He started shaking slightly, and sweat was starting to appear.
"Sir?" Worf prompted. Still no response. After a few more seconds Picard let out a strangled scream of panic and sprinted into his ready room.
The bridge was stunned. By the time they had asked themselves what they should do now the Enterprise had run into the Borg in question, rendering it into something closer to a stew.
After a minute or so, Worf went into the ready room to see what Picard was doing. He was sobbing at his desk. "Captain, is there a problem?" Worf asked in some concern.
Jean-Luc slowly brought his head up. Worf, being unfamiliar with the sight of a male crying, was stunned to see Picard's red-rimmed eyes and his shortness of breath. He thought Picard must have something wrong with him, and he immediately called Sickbay. In the meantime, he walked over to Picard in some concern, thinking what he could do to stop the swelling in Picard's eyes, when he immediately had two arms flung around him and his waist was put into a bear hug.
At least that's what he first thought. Closer inspection showed Picard was just hugging him. Worf had been subjected to many embraces, but usually from happy comrades after a victory of some sort. Picard was clearly not a happy comrade right now, and there had been no recent victory to speak of. Worf had no idea what to do.
"Oh Worf!" Picard was crying. "Don't let them hurt me again! Don't let the Borg take me away!" he continued a tirade of pleas to not let the Big Bad Borg get him, unaware that the Borg in question was now only posing a cleaning problem.
Worf was lost. His widened eyes were scanning the room for any unseen eyes that might be seeing this embarrassing scene, and perhaps for someone else who could take over. He looked down again, and gently patted Picard's head - he couldn't think of anything else to do.
Picard continued unabated, then suddenly stopped. He looked up at stared at Worf, right into his eyes. Worf tried to break the stare, but he felt compelled to listen.
"Thank you, Worf. Thank you for being my friend."
This wasn't the first time that Worf had wished that he was back in the wars again. Luckily for him a few seconds later the crew from Sickbay arrived. Unluckily for him they were treated to a very rare sight indeed. Three of the medics were only just holding back their laughter. Two of them were only just failing.
Worf remained completely silent whilst they disentangled him from Picard's grasp, and took over the situation. He very quickly marched out of the ready room and resumed his post as if nothing had happened. Over the next eight weeks the braver members of the crew went to great pains to remind Worf of this event and gave themselves a great laugh over it.
Of course, Worf would eventually have the last laugh.