CHAPTER TWO
"Q, I really don't have time for this; there's a slight crisis here!" Picard fumbled with the pips, trying to control the irrational anger coursing through his veins.
Q (or rather his head, which was sticking through the wall) sighed with the air of someone explaining one plus one is two to an overemotional toddler. "Mon capitan, when will you understand? The universe doesn't work according to your miniscule Federation. It-" Q was cut off by Picard. "I see. It works according to the Continuum's rules."
Q willed himself over to Picard's desk. He sat on it, crossed his legs, waited a few seconds then said, "Honestly, Picard. The Federation chose you to be the captain of their flagship, and you can't even get the uniform on."
There was a small flash of bluish-grey light, and the pips were securely fastened onto Picard's collar.
Picard walked stiffly out of his quarters. The ship shook violently, sending him headfirst into the turbolift doors. Picard rose shakily, then warily entered the turbolift. So far, so good. "Main Bridge." The doors swished shut. So far, so good. The turbolift moved up. So far, so good. The doors opened. Hallelujah, I made it. The Enterprise pitched forward, and he slammed into Worf's console.
Dr. Crusher quickly walked over. "We've hit something, but I don't know what. Are you alright?"
Picard's lip was split, he had a large, nasty-looking bruise on his right cheek, and he had a cut dripping blood into his left ear. "You're the doctor, Beverly. Does it look like I'm alright?" Picard's mood was unimproved by his injuries. Crusher ran some kind of glowing medical rod over his cheek. The bruise disappeared. "Are any teeth loose?" Picard glared at her. "Okay, I guess your teeth are fine." She recoded the rod, then ran it over his lip and the cut above his ear. They closed, and the pain vanished with them.
Picard warily walked to his chair. He was halfway there when everything went black.
"Q, I really don't have time for this; there's a slight crisis here!" Picard fumbled with the pips, trying to control the irrational anger coursing through his veins.
Q (or rather his head, which was sticking through the wall) sighed with the air of someone explaining one plus one is two to an overemotional toddler. "Mon capitan, when will you understand? The universe doesn't work according to your miniscule Federation. It-" Q was cut off by Picard. "I see. It works according to the Continuum's rules."
Q willed himself over to Picard's desk. He sat on it, crossed his legs, waited a few seconds then said, "Honestly, Picard. The Federation chose you to be the captain of their flagship, and you can't even get the uniform on."
There was a small flash of bluish-grey light, and the pips were securely fastened onto Picard's collar.
Picard walked stiffly out of his quarters. The ship shook violently, sending him headfirst into the turbolift doors. Picard rose shakily, then warily entered the turbolift. So far, so good. "Main Bridge." The doors swished shut. So far, so good. The turbolift moved up. So far, so good. The doors opened. Hallelujah, I made it. The Enterprise pitched forward, and he slammed into Worf's console.
Dr. Crusher quickly walked over. "We've hit something, but I don't know what. Are you alright?"
Picard's lip was split, he had a large, nasty-looking bruise on his right cheek, and he had a cut dripping blood into his left ear. "You're the doctor, Beverly. Does it look like I'm alright?" Picard's mood was unimproved by his injuries. Crusher ran some kind of glowing medical rod over his cheek. The bruise disappeared. "Are any teeth loose?" Picard glared at her. "Okay, I guess your teeth are fine." She recoded the rod, then ran it over his lip and the cut above his ear. They closed, and the pain vanished with them.
Picard warily walked to his chair. He was halfway there when everything went black.