Forever in a Day, Chapter Three

"Spock, I've found that evil usually triumphs... unless good is very, very careful."

-Leonard McCoy "The Omega Glory"

-

Over the millennia, the Q Continuum has been many things to many people. In the beginning, after the period that was known as the Dark Times, life in the Continuum was exciting, being a Q was exciting. The Multiverse was young and new, creating a constant feeling of euphoric discovery for all who saw it. Some would see it as a book to be read, others as a never-ending road leading from one corner of existence to the other.

As time marched on, the discoveries became few and far between, euphoria faded to indifference, and the Q, who had once marvelled at the vastness of creation, grew cold and convinced of their own superiority. Life in the Continuum grew dull, the book gathering dust on the shelf, the road lying untravelled, it's destination reached many times before. Dialogue faded to silence, and each Q struck off on their own in an effort to alleviate the growing sense of uselessness. Most simply existed, casting an occasional eye at the Universe around them. Others found amusement in torturing the younger races who had not yet ascended to the godhood the Q enjoyed, even though they referred to it as "playing". Some relinquished their powers and decided to live and die as mortals, while others had that decision forced upon them when their "play" grew out of hand.

Certain in their godhood, they began to forget the lessons of the past, to ignore the mistakes they had made in their youth. How is it possible for a God to make a mistake? They wondered. It's not possible for us to be wrong. We dealt with those petty annoyances long ago and they will never come back to haunt us. We are superior, we are the ultimate. We are the protectors of the Multiverse.

We are Gods.

We are forever.

Nothing is forever.

-

The sun had long since vanished over the horizon and the moon risen to prominence in the sky, it's waxing light shining on the darkened path as the hooded figure made his way towards the clearing. The trail had once been cleanly cut and defined, it's way marked for all who used it, but now the woods had begun to reclaim it, red, green and brown tendrils snaking across the dirt and rocks like living things. In the distance, barely visible over the tops of the trees, were the jagged peaks of fog enshrouded mountains.

The grimace on the figure's face spoke volumes about his opinions of current events within the Continuum. If asked, he could say with complete honesty that the execution of one of the First Ones was not high on his immortal existence's "To Do" list.

Not that anyone asked him, of course.

Clouded eyes darted over the clearing before him. Thousands of Q milled about an enormous bonfire in similarly hooded cloaks, an aura of restlessness in the air so palpable that he felt as though he could cut through it with a knife. It was foolishness, what the First Ones had planned. The execution of Appolyon, though so richly deserved, just begged for mistakes to be made, for horrors to ensue. According to the legends of the Continuum, the First Ones had been given the task of safeguarding the Multiverse by the Creators themselves. It was only their existence that held all of creation together, a precariously balanced house of cards.

Appolyon had once been the most powerful of the First Ones. Even weakened after four hundred thousand years of imprisonment, what effect would his death have on space and time?

Stepping from the shadows of the forest, he approached two other Q who stood staring off into the darkness. Both turned and grasped his hand in greeting, firm grips betraying nothing of the fear in their eyes.

"Q. It's been too long." The first, in the guise of a dark haired Romulan, said.

The second, a bald and dark eyed Deltan, chuckled. "Only two or three hundred years. You know, since that thing."

"The thing? Oh. The Thing. You remember the Thing, don't you, Q?"

Q frowned, the good cheer of his old friends failing to create even the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Foolishness." He muttered, "This entire affair is utter foolishness."

The Romulan smiled. "Learning to be subtle in your old age, Q? You used to be so much more blunt than this."

"Laugh if you will, Q. This entire masquerade that the First Ones have concocted… it merely hides the truth behind the glamour of a lie."

"And what truth is that?"

"That they are more afraid of him than they care to admit. That they believe that they will fail. That they hold our lives cheaply and that we are nothing more to them than shields. Take your pick."

The smiles dropped from their faces as concern etched it's way across their eyes. The atmosphere of levity which had permeated their corner of the Continuum only seconds before vanished. "What do you mean, 'shields'?"

Q grunted as he watched a bird fly over the treetops, it's shrill cry splitting the night air. "Immortal shields. Don't tell me that you haven't thought it. If he does actually manage to escape, they're betting that we would be able to stop him before he reaches them."

"That's ridiculous. They know that we wouldn't be able to stand against him. We all remember the Dark Times."

"Then why summon us all here? They don't need us for the execution."

"That doesn't mean that we're being used as shields. You know what they say: Hope for the best, plan for the worst."

For the first time since arriving, Q actually felt a smile tug at a corner of his mouth. "For a Romulan, you've picked up some interesting Human sayings."

There was the sound very much like the clearing of a throat, and both turned to their Deltan companion. He had pulled his hood back, leaving his bald head exposed to the night sky. "I think that we're all here." His voice was low, barely audible to the others. His eyes glinted uneasily in the light of the moon, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. "We should join the others."

The three ancient friends moved away from the edge of the forest towards the rest of the Continuum gathering around the bonfire. Just before they reached the others, a strange feeling gripped Q, causing him to stumble and look around. He saw nothing but darkness in the woods, impenetrable even to his eyes. He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to dispel the sense of foreboding which had come over him. It was only when he turned back, that he noticed something. "Where's Q?" The failure of one of his other old friends to appear only served to intensify the uneasy feeling.

The others looked around and shrugged. "Q? Probably just late as usual. Why?"

Q shook his head. "Probably just nothing. I think that the Humans call it 'someone walking over my grave'." He shivered, cold even with his proximity to the fire, which leapt and spat before him like a living thing. "Never mind me." Striding past his friends, he joined the others, ignoring the only warning that the Universe was prepared to give.

-

Appolyon stood in the shadows of the forest, hidden from view by the towering copse of trees, watching as the Q turned around and joined the rest. It had taken the patience born of four hundred thousand years of imprisonment to keep himself from reaching out and killing the unsuspecting creature right then and there. He could feel the life force emanating from the thousands of Q before him, all milling about like sheep fit for the slaughter. All it would take would be a single moment…

What am I thinking?

The thought came to him unbidden, unwanted.

These are my people. Some have done me wrong, yes, but not all. Some of them were not even there when I was imprisoned.

Appolyon rubbed the palm of his hand hard against his temple, running his fingers through the mop of dark hair he had adopted. It was getting hard for him to think. Things had been so clear earlier. When had this fog appeared in his mind? Was it even a fog?

Or was the fog lifting?

It was so hard to tell. It was so hard to think. The confusion was coming back, eating away at his mind bit by bit. He had been warm for a few moments, but the cold was beginning to seep through him once more. He wanted to be warm again. He needed to be warm again.

They should be cold for once.

Yes. Yes, make them feel the cold. Make them pay for what they had done to him.

Destroy them all.

Yes.

The hand stopped it's rubbing and dropped to his side, and a grin twitched on his face.

Destroy them all.

And then maybe he would be warm.

-

The Q Continuum had gathered together for the first time in millennia, and for the first time they had gathered to sentence a First One to death.

While most of the Continuum were enamoured of flashy entrances and theatrical displays of the trappings of power, the First Ones disdained such things. One moment they were not there, the next…

They simply were.

There had been no warning, no flash of light, no booming voices, not even the soft chirp of a cricket. The Q turned to see seven figures in white robes appear amongst the black worn by the younger Q. These were the First Ones, the most powerful beings in existence, the ones who held Creation in their very hands. Out of respect, and healthy fear, the Q backed away from the Seven, forming a circle around the bonfire, with the First Ones in the centre.

No one spoke. The only sound that could be heard was the snapping of the fire before them all. The seven white hoods framed black pits where faces should be. None of the Q could remember ever seeing one of the First Ones since the Dark Times, when they had simply faded from view. Until the summons to this council had come, many had believed the First Ones dead hundreds of millennia ago. What had become of them, what they looked like now, none could say.

Movement flickered at the edge of the forest. As one, the Continuum turned to greet this new arrival. A dark haired man emerged from the woods, his cowl lowered and leaving his head free of its confines. A trim black goatee framed his chin.

Q, the man sent to reclaim Appolyon from the Guardian of Forever, had returned.

Alone.

He approached slowly, foot before steady foot, until he stood before the gathered might of the Continuum, cold blue eyes scanning their faces. His mouth set in a severe line, he turned his gaze to the seven white figures at the circle's centre.

Covered heads turned to each other, consulting for a long moment as nervous mutters began to rise from the younger Q. Ponderously, they turned to regard him once more. And then they spoke.

It was as though the Multiverse itself spoke. Deep and sepulchral, the words sounded from everywhere at once, without and within.

"Q. You were given the task of retrieving Appolyon from the Guardian of Forever."

"So I was."

"And yet you return to this conclave alone."

"So I do."

"Are you willing to face judgment of your own for failing in this task?"

"So I will."

The fire burned higher, and several of the Q backed away from the heat. The First Ones made no movement, but a strong feeling of irritation began to emanate from them.

"Now is not the time for word games, Q." The voice had become deeper, more resonant, and tinged with anger. "Appolyon must face judgment for his crimes. Where is he?"

A small smile began to tug at a corner of the goatee. A hand waved the question off. "He has already faced judgment, and paid it."

Nervous murmurs began to rise among the Q, and they shifted uncomfortably, shying away from the confrontation. The First Ones took a menacing step forward. "You killed him?"

Q laughed, the sound sending cold shivers down the spines of all who heard it. The fire flickered. "No. No, Appolyon is quite alive."

The white robes began to back away, an uneasy feeling seeming to come over them. When the voice spoke again, it was hesitant. "Then how has he paid for his crimes?"

"For his crimes?" The smile vanished, and Q took a step forward. Lightning seemed to flash in his eyes as he glared at the First Ones. "I never said he paid for his crimes. I said that he faced judgment and paid. Four hundred thousand years in cold, empty oblivion, with nothing left him but the faces and the screams of the dying and the Damned."

The forest could no longer be seen through the rising darkness, and the fire seemed to be growing dimmer and colder. Power so strong that it filled the air smothered the Q, an aura of icy fury let loose from its confines and left to attack those who had wronged it.

"I have faced your judgment, and I have paid the price for my failure."

Appolyon, the Destroyer, had returned to the Continuum.

-

His name was Q, but he had long preferred to go by the name of Qu'aal. At one time, he had traveled this Universe with the Iconians, a race he had come to respect and admire for their culture and poetry, though few others could understand either. Even creatures believed to be demons had their own art.

He had played Horatio alongside William Shakespeare's Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; Stood beside the First Emperor of the Tkon Empire as he broke down the doors of the Great Council, and even watched as the asteroid ship Yonada was launched mere minutes before the supernova claimed its homeworld of Fabrini.

Hundreds of thousands of years of living history. He had seen so much, rejoiced as empires rose and fell, and wept at the soft sound of a single man's dying breath.

He was the first to fall, but far from the last.

-

They leapt at him as one, all of the younger Q, ignorant of his power, believing that they could defeat him with pure numbers and strength, each wanting to be the one to say that he overwhelmed the mighty Appolyon.

One fell before him.

Two fell before him.

The dark form at the centre of the battle laughed joyously as he cut a path through them, spinning and twisting to meet every new attack. The dark robe flew out behind him, a black cloud which swept over the bodies of his victims. He had become the battle. He had become death itself.

Three fell before him.

And four, and five…

-

The First Ones watched it happen.

There was nothing else they could do. Appolyon had somehow managed to prevent them from escaping. They tried to vanish somewhere safe, but it was as though they had been locked in this forest clearing which had, up until seconds ago, been their creation.

They were forced to watch as he massacred their children, absorbing their power and leaving only bodies in his wake. The bonfire, which had burned brightly only moments before, now flickered and fought for life as the Continuum died.

It seemed to be over in seconds. What had once been the greatest civilization in existence, was now reduced to little more than a group of emaciated corpses lying strewn about a field, surrounding a small group being confronted by their greatest mistake.

Appolyon stood before them, eyes burning and mouth set in a grim line. The rush of the battle had left him, leaving only the cold anger behind. Imperiously, he waved his hand and they watched as the illusions they had created melted away. The clearing vanished, replaced by a black expanse, and the robes dissolved, leaving behind seven men and women in rags and chains.

The bodies, however, remained.

They stared at Appolyon, as he leaned back into a chair which had appeared out of nowhere. He steepled his fingers, and watched them from behind hooded eyes.

"I had almost forgotten what you looked like."

As one, they looked at each other, and then back at him. Pleading would get them nowhere now, not after all of the power he had just taken.

"Don't get me wrong, though. I don't mean these bodies we assume. Those can change like the wind, can't they?" A flick of the wrist, and they became crying infants on the ground, helpless. Another, and they returned to their previous appearance, and yet, still just as helpless.

"I mean what you really look like. Your souls, so to speak, though sometimes I wonder if you actually have them. A creature with a soul wouldn't have forced a friend to become a weapon against his will. A creature with a soul wouldn't have turned on that friend when that weapon was no longer needed. A creature with a soul wouldn't have locked a friend away in a hell for four hundred thousand years while you wondered what to do with him!" He drew a shaky breath, calming himself. "Do you know what my prison was like? Did you even care? It was nothing. Literally, nothing. No air. No vacuum. No light. No dark. It was just… nothing. Nothing but the cold. Bone chilling, soul destroying cold. Like being trapped in ice for eternity. You lie there and you can feel it becoming a part of you, replacing everything that was there before, until everything you were is gone and all that's left is the cold. The cold and the screams." He shivered at the memory. "Screams in the darkness." He shook his head, and rubbed at his temple. "But that's besides the point now. Now, it's my turn to pass judgment on you."

"Today, is the first day of oblivion."

-

The planet was dry and arid, sand scratching across Caeric-Mal's skin every time he moved. Not that bothered him, being an archaeologist he was used to sand and grit. It was the heat that bothered him. Sarthong V's double suns beat down on him from their midday points, causing his red skin to break out into a sweat. Sweat which dripped into his segmented eyes, stinging a million times for a million small eyes. So this was why his people avoided deserts. Not because of the heat, not because of the sand, but because of the incredibly annoying and painful sweat.

Of course, nothing could possibly have kept him from this dig. It had taken almost a thousand years, but the Federation Council (bless their multitude of hearts and other circulatory organs) had finally convinced the people of this world to allow off-worlders to examine the incredible ruins on their planet. For centuries, archaeologists across the galaxy had wondered what was left behind on this world. Now, he would be the first to find out.

Granted, if he heard the phrase "At least it's a dry heat" one more time, he would scream until his lungs burst.

"Boss!"

He frowned, annoyed at the interruption. Sighing, he responded without even looking over his shoulder. "What is it, Michael? I'm busy right now."

"Boss, this is important!"

A angry breath shot from his nostrils. Mentally ripping his apprentice limb from limb, he stood and turned around. "What is so impor…" the word hung in midair.

The suns were growing.

No. Growing was the wrong word. The suns were exploding.

"What in the eight hells…?"

No one ever discovered what lay beneath the sands of Sarthong V, since the entire solar system was destroyed seconds later as the stars went nova.

-

Appolyon looked at the still corpse hanging from his fingertips. The cold had retreated for a moment, leaving behind a euphoric warmth as the power of the First Ones began to course through him. He smiled down at the six cowering others and smiled.

One down.