Chapter 14: Earth, San Francisco, Fisherman's Wharf, Caffe de Luca, 2401
"Why are we here?" Charlie asked as he looked around the café. "Unlimited control of space, matter, and time, and you keep coming to the same coffee shop."
"Give me a break, Charlie," L'Naan Paris said as she took a sip of her raktajino. "I've been a human for nineteen years. It's going to take some time to adjust to other existences." She set her cup down on the table and smiled pleasantly at him. "Besides, this is where I first started liking you."
Charlie returned the smile. "Your parents have already stopped fighting, if you were wondering."
"I wasn't really worried. They never get into a fight with each other that they can't get out of. It's their relationship with me that I'm worried about. They think I'm some kind of drop-out."
"What's a 'drop-out'?"
"Someone who doesn't finish school, doesn't have a job, is an unproductive member of society."
"But you're a Q," Charlie protested. "Do they want you to sit in a lecture hall all day?"
"If they had their way, yes." L'Naan sighed.
"If you would just figure out Qness, this could all be over."
"I know. I'm trying to make some progress on that front." L'Naan took a slow drink. "Unlimited control of space, matter –"
"And time," he added.
"And time," she repeated slowly. She stopped suddenly and looked at him as it dawned on her. "I've already demonstrated Qness."
"How do you know that?"
"Because if I hadn't, you wouldn't have chosen me. It doesn't make sense for the Q to pick some random humanoid and hope she can give them what they need. I've already proven my worth." Her eyes narrowed as she thought through the problem. "The only question is when."
"Very good," Charlie encouraged. "I should report this to the Continuum."
"Inconspicuously, please."
Charlie nodded. He deliberately dropped his napkin on the floor and then slid under the table to get it. L'Naan felt him gently stroke her calf. Then he was gone. A moment later, he was back, and he climbed back into his chair.
"How was that?" he asked.
"You're getting pretty good at functioning in human society," she said with pride.
"Thank you." He settled into his seat with his napkin in his lap.
"All right, go ahead," L'Naan said, reading his thoughts. "You're allowed to do that in front of other humans." Charlie leaned across the table and kissed her on the lips. "I don't know why you like doing that so much. I'm sure the other Q think it's primitive."
"I think it's pleasant," he argued. "The Continuum says they're very proud of you. You're almost there."
"Excellent. Now I just need to figure out when and how." She nodded to his coffee. "Drink up, Charlie. It won't burn you."
He looked apprehensively at the cup before taking a noisy sip. As he placed the cup back on the table, L'Naan couldn't help but giggle at his cappuccino-froth mustache.
"Stop laughing at me and focus," he griped, wiping his mouth. But he was smiling.
L'Naan closed her eyes and tried to think of times in her life when she'd done the extraordinary. She came up empty. Then it occurred to her: her demonstration may have already happened, but that didn't mean she had already done it. The thoughts started flying through her mind in fragmented pieces.
A dead Q who once described the Continuum as a road in the desert that led to the rest of the universe, then back to the Continuum, in an endless circle. Here is then is later is now.
Andrew only exists because of Charlie. He was created seven years ago, but he's twenty-two.
Charlie only exists because of Admiral Janeway.
Miral was born on Voyager. Mom was only on Voyager because her ship got destroyed. Dad was only on Voyager because Admiral Janeway got him out of prison.
He was in prison because of the Maquis.
If he hadn't been a Maquis, he wouldn't have been arrested.
Charlie's father saying exploration was not about mapping stars and studying nebulae, but charting the unknown possibilities of existence.
If Dad hadn't been arrested, he wouldn't have been in prison.
If he hadn't been in prison, he would never have been on Voyager.
The pieces came together to form a continuum. She looked at Charlie and nodded solemnly. She had the answer.
Maquis Raider Val Jean, Somewhere Near Selka, 2370
The alert sounded before Tom Paris was thoroughly rested – or, for that matter, sober – but as soon as he felt the first jolt of a disruptor blast striking the ship, his feet hit the deck and he was on his way to the bridge.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Cardassians," Chakotay replied with annoyance. "We need you at the helm. Try to outrun them."
Tom nodded and slid into the pilot's seat. He began tapping in commands for a series of evasive maneuvers as the ship rocked violently again. Tom felt heat as a conduit somewhere behind him exploded, venting gas across the bridge, but he couldn't afford to look away from his controls.
"We're losing antimatter containment down here!" one of the engineers called over the com system.
"Shields are down to fifty percent!"
"Hail them!" Chakotay ordered.
"No response."
"Did you really think they'd answer?" Seska snipped, stalking across the bridge. "They're not here to negotiate with us, Chakotay! They're here to kill us!"
"Fire phasers," Chakotay instructed coolly. "Try to take out their weapons."
"Chakotay, the de Gaulle's hull is buckling!"
"Get the crew over here!"
"Sensors are picking up three more Cardassian ships closing in."
"I've got a lock on the de Gaulle crew!"
Chakotay looked at Tom. "Get us the hell out of here!"
"I'm trying," Tom muttered. "I'm looking for places for us to hide." He turned in his seat. "Let me go find help on Selka and bring back reinforcements."
Chakotay nodded but added the proviso, "Take Jarvin with you."
Tom sprinted down the corridor to the sleeping berths. Jarvin was still out cold, in spite of the chaos on the ship. All part of the life of a Maquis, he thought grimly. You learn to sleep however you can. From the look of Jarvin's disheveled clothing and the somewhat tortured expression on his sweaty face, Tom could tell they'd both spent the previous night in a similar way.
"Jarvin," Tom said, shaking him. "Hey, Jarvin." He tried in vain to rouse him for a minute. "Wake up!"
Jarvin stirred slightly but rolled onto his side, away from Tom.
"What's the matter? You can't hold your liquor? Fine. I can do this without you."
Dodging the incoming Cardassian ships was fairly easy. The shuttle Chakotay had procured for them was faster and lighter than the clunkier Cardassian fighters, and Tom quickly got away from the scene of the dogfight. He plotted the course to Selka to find reinforcements.
Reinforcements, he thought snidely. A nice way of saying 'more terrorists to help us.'
Chakotay's intelligence had said that the colony was sympathetic to their cause, and Tom felt reasonably certain he could persuade at least one ship to come back with him.
Let's just hope their ships are in better condition than ours.
Tom kept one hand firmly on the communications controls, ready to take action, while the other scanned the vicinity for other incoming vessels. He knew he didn't have a lot of time before the Maquis raiders would start to lose shielding or structural integrity, he knew, so determining how much time he could spend searching for help before he had to go back to rescue survivors was a bit thorny. But Tom had been in situations requiring more precise timing before.
Right, and you got your friends killed, remember?
Pushing the thoughts of his "incident" at Caldik Prime aside, Tom scanned the area again. There was a Federation ship closing in fast. Tom let out a breath. "Damn it." Its warp signature was unmistakable: it was Starfleet.
USS Bradbury
"This is hands-down the worst thing I have ever had to do in my entire life," L'Naan said. "If this is demonstrating Qness, I don't know if I want to be a Q."
"It's too late," Charlie reminded her. "You already are." He nodded at the sensor data between them. "There is he is."
L'Naan looked down at the helm controls. She'd had flying lessons from her father before, but she'd never actually piloted a ship on her own. One of the advantages of being Q, though, was that lessons weren't necessary to acquire a new skill. She set a course to intercept. "We'll be in range in two minutes," she reported.
"You'd better change your appearance," Charlie warned.
"So had you." She snapped, and they both donned Starfleet security uniforms.
Charlie's hand tentatively felt the bangs across his forehead and then his ears. "You made us Vulcans?"
"It's more believable." She looked at him and for a moment forgot the churning in her stomachs. "You look great, by the way." She planted a kiss on Charlie's cheek. "Thank you for doing this with me."
Charlie nodded and returned his attention to the readout in front of him. "One minute."
"I'm increasing speed so we can intercept faster," L'Naan said. She looked down at the sensors. "Ah, he's spotted us. He's matching our speed. He's going to try to outmaneuver us."
"What does that mean?"
"He'll try to fly somewhere where we can't follow. We're going to have to go faster."
Come on, don't make this any more difficult than it has to be.
"We've got him. I'm bringing us up behind him." Their Starfleet patrol ship swooped directly behind the shuttle, and she hailed it. "Maquis ship, stand down and prepare to be boarded. You are in direct violation of the Treaty of 2370."
The shuttle came about and fired before it flew above them and took off. L'Naan and Charlie were jostled from their seats.
"He's firing on us!" Charlie said with surprise.
"I should have known he wouldn't back down easily. Fire back – just target his weapons. Don't hurt him. I'm setting our course to follow him."
Charlie looked thoughtfully down at the panel in front of him. He tapped a few commands, and their forward phasers fired at the shuttle's weapons systems. "His weapons are offline."
"I'm hailing him again," she reported. "Maquis ship, stand down and prepared to be boarded. You are under arrest for high treason."
The Maquis shuttle flew past them again, trying to confuse them with its evasive maneuvers. L'Naan's hands danced over the helm controls, but she was nowhere near skilled enough to keep up.
"Do something!" Charlie yelled as their ship rocked violently from her flying and the incoming phaser fire.
"I don't want to hurt him!" she called back. "You're going to have to take out his propulsion, or he's just going to keep going. Carefully, Charlie, please – I don't want him to lose antimatter containment."
Charlie nodded and fired on the ship three more times. L'Naan grimaced as she watched the ship being buffeted out the viewport. It finally came to a stop.
"What next?" Charlie asked.
"What's the status of his shields?"
Charlie shrugged. "How should I know?"
"We can't transport him if his shields are intact," she snapped. "Fire on him one more time for good measure – target his shields."
"I'll be careful," Charlie promised. He hit the shuttle one last time with their phasers. "His shields are down."
With a deep breath, L'Naan locked onto the one lifesign aboard the shuttle. As the transporter shimmered to completion, L'Naan watched, still slightly uncertain that this was the best way to prove her salt as a Q. But it had to be done; it had already been done, and the past, present, and future all depended upon her carrying out what already was.
"You can do it," Charlie encouraged.
L'Naan nodded and picked up a phaser. She pointed it toward where the prisoner was materializing. "You are under arrest for violation of Treaty of 2370," she repeated. "State your name for the record."
The prisoner raised his hands carelessly in surrender. "Tom Paris," he said. "I'm surprised you didn't catch me sooner."
