Author's Note: Thank you for your ongoing support of this series.
It was a pleasure to pen this piece. There will be more Q and Lore stories to come that follow a similar theme of mischief and adventure.
I like to explore the relationship Q has with the crew in a low-stakes environment.
The parallels between Holmes and Moriarity are present in both the relationships of Data & Lore and Q & Picard.
That served as a heavy influence for this tale. I hope to continue that dynamic as this series progresses.
This story ends with a snippet of what is to come later in the series. It includes a small spoiler. Read at your own risk.
A few words may suffice to tell the little that remains.
An examination by experts leaves little doubt that a personal contest between the two men ended, as it could hardly fail to end in such a situation, in their reeling over, locked in each other's arms.
Any attempt at recovering the bodies was absolutely hopeless, and there, deep down in that dreadful caldron of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time the most dangerous criminal and the foremost champion of the law of their generation.
- The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
A soft fire crackled below the ornate mantle of Lord Moran's private study.
Captain Picard was seated in a plush chair by the fireside.
Q sat opposite of him. They were separated by a small table.
Q poured the wine and then handed a glass to Picard.
"Where is my team? Data?" Picard pressed.
"They're all safe and snug in their beds," Q replied.
"Then they were never in any real danger?" Picard asked.
Q put up one finger as he took a long sip of his wine before answering.
"Not this time," Q replied as he settled back into his seat.
Picard bit his tongue, but it was hard to hide the fury in his expression.
Q responded with a smirk and small shrug.
"What do you expect, Jean-Luc?" Q asked.
He leaned across the table until his face was just inches away from the Captain. Picard braced himself to either be scared or receive a kiss.
"You wanted an adventure," Q whispered against Picard's ear. "You crave it."
Q sat back in chair and sighed, turning his attention to the window.
"Why?" Picard asked.
"Data solved the mystery," Q said.
His manner was nonchalant – as if such a simple explanation cleared everything up.
"Are you saying you didn't enjoy it?" Q asked.
Jean-Luc had to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to risk upsetting Q.
"You already know my thoughts on this… adventure," Picard settled on.
Q had indicated he could tap into their deepest desires and sense their fears.
"All this theatre. This spectacle. Is it for us or for you?" Jean-Luc inquired.
Jean-Luc's eyes narrowed as he brought his glass to his lips.
"Why?" Picard pressed.
"For we, which now behold these present days, have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise," Q responded.
"More illusion. More theatrics," Picard said.
"More dancing?" Q suggested with a devious twinkle in his eyes.
Picard was at a loss for words.
"You aren't ever going to tell me, are you?" Jean-Luc asked.
Q paused before he answered. A strange smile spread across his face.
"Not in this lifetime," Q said.
Jean-Luc opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question.
But before he could get the words out, the clock struck midnight. Its bells thundered as they tolled the hour.
"Midnight. But I don't-"
"Don't say I never give you anything, Jean-Luc."
It was the last thing Q said before he snapped his fingers.
Jean-Luc awoke with a start.
He sat up in bed and glanced around at the dark room.
The drapes surrounding his four-poster bed and the large window that overlooked the grounds couldn't be further from the Captain's quarters on the Enterprise.
At the far end of the room, the fire had burned down to nothing more than glowing embers.
Jean-Luc reached for the Baby Ben alarm clock that sat on the nightstand.
Midnight.
Jean-Luc threw off the covers and dashed for the door.
He was nearly there when he realised that he was now wearing pyjamas.
Picard huffed and rolled his eyes in irritation before stomping over to grab his dressing gown from the hook near the wardrobe.
He was just slipping on his boots when there was a loud 'crack.'
Startled, Jean-Luc stumbled into an end table.
"Dammit," he cursed.
"Do you need a glass of warm milk?"
"What do you want?" Picard asked.
Jean-Luc pulled himself up to his full height. He cinched his dressing gown tighter around his waist.
"Why are you here? Why am I here? I thought-"
"You thought, what? I would send you back to your little ship without letting you finish your holiday?" Q teased.
Picard pursed his lips as he turned for the door.
"I woke up back here in this same silly game. I'm going to find my team," Picard declared.
"No, no, no."
Q gripped Jean-Luc's shoulders and marched him back to bed.
"I already told you – they're all safe and snug in their beds," Q said.
He paused.
"Well, not necessarily in their own beds," Q added. "But they are in a bed."
Q practically shoved Jean-Luc back onto his own bed.
"Which is where you should be," Q insisted.
Picard didn't even have a chance to properly protest – Q was already pulling the blankets over him.
"I would really rather ensure that my team-"
"Your team is sound asleep," Q interjected.
Q put a finger to Jean-Luc's lips to silence him.
"Shhh," Q shushed him.
Resigned there was nothing he could do, Jean-Luc begrudgingly settled into bed.
"Nighty night, mon Capitaine," Q whispered, blowing Jean-Luc a kiss.
Just before Q closed the door, Jean-Luc sat up in bed.
"Q, wait!" Picard called out.
Q stopped and leaned against the doorframe.
"You do want the warm milk, don't you?" he teased.
"What was the treasure?" Picard asked.
Will Riker threw his head back. Riker slapped the top of the table as he roared with laughter.
A tray of strawberry scones shook. Saucers clanged against their plates and Barclay's butterknife dropped from his plate as Riker went on. He was laughing so hard that moisture pricked at the corner of his eyes.
Worf scowled with heavy disapproval.
"Well, I think it's rather sweet," Deanna said.
"Quite right," Beverly agreed.
"Look, I'm happy and all this worked out," Miles began to say as he sprinkled salt atop his oatmeal. "But did we really have to come all this way?"
He plunged his spoon into his oatmeal.
"I had fun," Sonya confessed.
Geordi beamed, flashing her a brilliant smile from his place across the table. At the start of their adventure, Sonya had been a bundle of nerves.
She wasn't comfortable around the senior officers for fear that she didn't belong.
But she had really come out of her shell.
Geordi still wasn't a fan of Q – but he was grateful the experience. Sonya was now at ease around the team (mostly) and the adventure had brought them all together.
"I just can't believe I was nearly beheaded by a flower and the whole time the treasure was friendship," Miles grumbled.
The bulk of the team was assembled around the breakfast table. They had all awoken that morning feeling refreshed.
To the relief of everyone, the holographic or Q-created staff had all gone. Breakfast had materialised before their very eyes.
Worf had been the first person up that morning. He'd risen shortly before dawn and scoped out the entire house.
When he returned to his quarters, he discovered a card on the nightstand.
In fact, there was one in every room.
Thank you for choosing Moran Manor for your holiday.
All arrangements have been made for your stay of 3 nights/4 days.
Meal Service
Breakfast: 6:00 o'clock - 10:00 o'clock
Luncheon: 11:00 o'clock – 2:00 o'clock
Tea: 4:00 o'clock – 5:00 o'clock
Dinner is served promptly at 7:30. Cigars and brandy to follow in the drawing room.
Please enjoy your stay.
Worf was planning a morning of quiet Mok'bara by the water garden.
Keiko wanted to go to the garden. Miles was keen to try the M.7 Nighthawk plane that sat out past the stables.
In the end, they'd agreed on a compromise to stroll through the gardens first before they saw them from above.
Wesley wanted to explore the house. Beverly was thrilled he had asked his mother if she wanted to come along.
In fact, everyone was making plans for the next three days. All of the amenities at the estate were available – riding, fishing, stalking, the vast library, and even chess atop the waterfall.
"Have you spoken with your mother yet?" Guinan asked Deanna.
She was hoping Lwaxana would be interested in finishing that spa day Guinan had started the first night.
Lwaxana had not yet come down.
As if on cue, Lwaxana Troi emerged sporting an obnoxious gold silk dressing gown with thick, feathered trim.
She yawned and helped herself to the coffee.
"Well, I'm assuming it worked," she remarked.
Picard scoffed.
"You knew?" he asked.
"I had an inkling," Lwaxana said as she slipped into a seat next to her daughter.
Lwaxana applied a thick schmear of marmalade onto a piece of toast. Then she caught sight of Jean-Luc's expression.
"What?" she demanded.
Picard said nothing.
"I didn't sense anything until right before they went over. I… felt an understanding pass between them," Lwaxana admitted.
"I'm just glad Data figured it out," Deanna said.
Picard frowned.
"Speaking of our hero – has anyone seen him this morning?" Picard asked.
"Oh, I'm sure he's just enjoying a well-deserved lie-in," Riker suggested.
A knowing smile passed between Deanna and Will.
The first thing Data became aware of was the weight of a warm body lying at his side. Next, a familiar leg thrown up over Data's hip and the little noises Tasha made in her sleep.
Data tightened his embrace and buried his face in Tasha's hair.
Tasha could sense that sweet, dreamless sleep slipping away as she rejoined the land of the living.
She was lying atop an arm. Its hand was at the small of her back. The other was resting atop her thigh.
"Good morning," Data whispered.
He kissed the top of her head.
"Mmmm."
Tasha was too sleepy to respond with anything more than a lazy affirmation.
Suddenly, Tasha's eyes flew open.
She leapt up, pushing Data away in an effort to put as much distance between them as possible.
The last thing she could remember was lying in the sand.
And Lore.
Tasha was breathing hard as she frantically looked around at the room. Data caught her hands and gripped them tight.
"It is me," he said in a slow, even voice. "It is me."
Tasha eyed Data with heavy suspicion.
"It is me," Data repeated.
He could tell Tasha was not entirely convinced.
"We are currently reading Night Watch at Starbase 12. The day we left, I chastised you for leaving your socks in the garment reprocessor. Your favourite meal is extra hot sweet and sticky pineapple tofu," Data explained.
He brought Tasha's hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss against the inside of her wrist.
"And I will never hurt you," Data promised.
Tasha collapsed on top of Data and buried her head against his chest.
"I was so worried about you," she confessed.
"The feeling was mutual," Data replied.
Tasha's shoulders shook and Data couldn't tell if it was laughter or tears.
"Please don't make me laugh," she said.
Data wrapped his arms around Tasha.
"Then I will try not to be so funny," Data replied in his typical deadpan manner.
They stayed that way for some time as Data traced the length of Tasha's spine. He knew she found it soothing. After the weekend they'd just had, Data was more than keen to stay there as long as necessary until Tasha relaxed.
"What happened?" Tasha asked.
"We managed to solve the mystery just in time," Data answered.
"And Lore?" Tasha pressed.
The fear in her voice left Data hesitant to respond.
"Data?"
"He helped rescue you and Geordi," Data informed her.
"After he spent the day terrorising us!" Tasha responded hotly.
She grumbled. Data could feel the anger radiating off her body.
"Not much of a rescue when he's the one that put us there," Tasha said.
She paused.
"Well, I guess I don't know if he actually put us there. He was working with Q. But he was hunting us on Q's orders," Tasha shared.
"I suspect his relationship with Q suffered a setback that led to Lore changing his allegiance," Data explained.
Tasha clutched his shoulders, offering quiet support.
Lore was a difficult subject of conversation. Data himself wasn't entirely sure of his feelings on the matter.
This latest meeting had only thrown the whole situation into deeper confusion.
Months earlier, Lore had nearly succeeded in destroying the Enterprise. He had thought nothing of impersonating Data, stealing his memories, and trying to kill the whole crew by feeding them to the Crystalline Entity.
Lore had manipulated Data, tapped into his greatest desires, and used that information to isolate Data. Lore had abused his trust and very nearly cost Data his relationship with Tasha.
And yet, Data could not begin to imagine what Lore was going through.
Data's own early days of activation had been marked by overwhelming emotion – wonder and joy at the discovery of each new sensation, pleasure in the sound of music, and a sense of pride that came from saying 'I am Data.'
But there was sensory overload too.
It had taken time for Data's audio and optical sensors to adjust to the bustling hubbub of the USS Tripoli.
And there was trepidation that came from the knowledge that Data's place in that new, strange world was precarious at best.
He was the android.
The curiosity.
The latest great discovery.
A part of Data had been astonished and mildly flattered by the attention. Yet, in the back of his mind, Data could recall a feeling of suspicion regarding Starfleet's motives.
And fear.
Data surmised Lore had felt much of the same upon his own reactivation – plus twenty-six years' worth of resentment at having been deactivated and locked away.
More than two decades of time had been stolen from Lore without his consent.
Sure, Lore had betrayed the colonists on Omicron Theta.
But there had been no trial, no effort to understand nor even rehabilitate Lore.
Deactivation was as good as a death sentence.
Noonian Soong had tried to extinguish Lore's very existence – and Data's too.
Data could understand Lore's bitter anger toward humanoids. They had both been abused by humans. Their rights usurped for the same reason.
Biological life mattered more.
Biological life was superior.
It hurt in a way Data could not explain.
"You're not like him," Tasha said.
It was as if she could sense where Data's thoughts were.
"You are nothing like him."
Data tightened his grip around her body, holding her close as he buried his face against her shoulder.
"I am so sorry," Tasha apologised. "I wanted this to be special for you. I just wanted you to have a great birthday."
She felt awful.
"If we ever get to go home – I promise that I will make it up to you," Tasha said.
"That is not necessary," Data assured her. "I am merely glad you are safe."
He took a great, shaking breath.
"I am very relieved you are-"
Data paused before settling on a word.
"Safe."
In truth, Data was relieved Tasha was safe and that she had not pulled away from him.
Data did not know if Lore's comments from the night before were based in fact or merely taunts. He was concerned that Lore had harmed Tasha in some way.
And Data was terrified that she would pull away from him.
Lore had targeted Tasha solely because of her association with Data.
"I put you in danger," Data said.
"Lore did that. Not you," Tasha replied.
"You were harmed," Data went on.
"That was Lore," Tasha insisted.
She sat back on her knees and studied Data's face. Her eyes were full of pity.
"I love you," she said.
"I… I was so worried that you would not want to be near me again. As I am a reminder of my brother," Data confessed.
Tasha flashed him a shy smile. She tucked an errant strand of hair back behind Data's ear. Her hand lingered, ghosting down along his jaw.
"You are not your brother. You are not beholden to him, and you certainly aren't responsible for his actions," Tasha said.
Tasha pulled Data's hand to her lips.
"In fact, you couldn't be more different," she concluded.
Tasha leaned over to nuzzle his nose.
"And I love you," she declared.
Her kiss was soft and slow. When they broke apart, Tasha planted a second chaste kiss against Data's lips as if to seal the first.
Tasha stayed there, lying atop Data. He traced the length of her spine. His hand came to rest in the small of her back.
It was then that Data became aware of the fact that Tasha was not wearing her usual sleep attire. Her typical old grey Parrises Squares t-shirt with the curry stain was conspicuously absent.
He dropped his hand to cup her backside where he found soft, webbed fabric rather than Tasha's knit sleep shorts.
Tasha giggled.
"Data."
Data immediately retracted his hand.
"Forgive me," he said with a sheepish look. "I was not attempting to try it on. Rather, I was conducting qualitative research."
Tasha's shoulders shook with laughter.
"So, that's what you're calling it now, eh?"
Data's eyebrows shot up. He shook his head ever so slightly to imply his sincere honesty.
Tasha sat back on her knees. There was a smug look of satisfaction on her face.
Data's breath hitched.
He dropped his gaze. His eyes widened noticeably as they took in the sight of her.
Tasha's face flushed.
Data tentatively reached out. His hand stopped just shy of Tasha, hovering above the spot where her heart was beating.
Data glanced up and met her eyes.
"May I?" he asked.
Even months into their relationship, Data still asked for Tasha's consent.
She nodded.
A small shiver ran up the nape of Tasha's neck as Data's fingers traced the delicate fabric. They ghosted around the curve of her breast, along the soft swell of her chest, and across her collarbone before he stopped at her neck.
Data cupped Tasha's face. His thumb caressed her bottom lip.
"Peach lace," Data remarked.
It was the same piece Data had seen on Starbase Exeter and exactly as lovely as he'd imagined.
He had first spied the piece months earlier hanging in a shop window during a brief stop for crew rotation. Since that time, it featured prominently in Data's thoughts.
Data knew it wasn't quite Tasha's style. She preferred comfort and functionality to the sort of frilly lingerie that adorned the mannequins along starbase promenades.
Data had still regretted not buying it.
Because she looked divine.
Data's mouth went dry. His power cell was pounding in his chest. His throat felt tight.
As did his shorts.
Tasha glanced down at herself. A slow smile spread across her face. Data dropped his head bashfully when she looked up at him.
"This is the uh-"
Tasha trailed off. She didn't want to mock him by calling it a 'fantasy.'
"Forgive me. I saw this several months ago. And since that time, thoughts of seeing you like this have occupied my mind when we are together," Data said. "And though I considered purchasing it as a gift for you, I know that you do not like such things."
"Don't be embarrassed," she assured him.
Data averted his gaze, turning his attention to the nightstand.
Tasha caught his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"I think it's rather flattering," she said.
Tasha bit her lip.
"And you always have my permission to purchase anything you like," Tasha said as she looped her fingers between Data's.
His face lit up.
"Just don't get carried away," Tasha added with a smirk. "We do still have our duties on the Enterprise."
Tasha could recall Data had once remarked it would take him days to list all of the things he longed to try together.
It hadn't been a joke – Data had asked if she wanted the ideas listed in order of preference or alphabetically.
Tasha sighed.
"If we ever get back home."
They were in Data's quarters at the manor house.
"I'm afraid Q's game isn't over yet," Tasha added.
Data reached for a small card on the nightstand that had caught his attention.
"Indeed, it would seem not," Data agreed.
Tasha's shoulders slumped.
She curled up against Data and buried her head against his chest.
"Then we are stuck here. All part of Q's game," Tasha grumbled.
She had never forgotten Q popping in to ruin an intimate moment after their experience on Starbase 118.
Data rolled them together.
"Not exactly," he said.
Data captured her lips.
"It would appear we have won three days here as a reward for solving the mystery," Data explained.
"Oh," Tasha replied softly.
Suddenly, she frowned.
"Are we here alone?" she asked.
"We are here alone," Data responded.
He was suddenly grateful his rooms at the manor were located so far from the rest of the team. Between Lore's diversion, Q's clock mischief, and Tasha's abduction, they had largely been separated.
In fact, Data and Tasha had not spent a single night together – nor even an extended period of time alone – for the duration of the trip.
"And now that your engagement has ended, Miss Moran-"
"Inspector," Tasha said.
She feigned outrage as her foot raked against his leg.
Data had no sooner pressed his lips against Tasha's mouth when the door to the lavvy flew open.
Lore stormed out.
His hair was wet. He was dripping on the rug. And he was wearing Data's satin brocade dressing gown.
Tasha stiffened in Data's arms.
"Oh, don't flatter yourselves," Lore drawled.
He had awoken in Data's bath.
"I simply wish to get out of here before you start all that ridiculous, needy-"
Lore trailed off and visibly shuddered.
His reaction was genuine. His own brief experience with physical stimulation had left Lore both confused and intrigued – a thought that repulsed him.
Lore didn't want to desire such human emotions.
"I'll just be going," Lore announced.
He stopped just shy of the door and tugged at the dressing gown.
"I'll return this," Lore promised.
Data and Tasha did not get a chance to enjoy being alone.
Q appeared in a flash – apologetic and thoroughly amused to find them together in bed.
"Forgive me for dropping in," Q said.
His voice indicated his feelings were anything but.
"I'll just take this to ensure there are no further interruptions," Q said.
He snapped his fingers. Then the door vanished along with Q.
"I'll be glad to be rid of that," Tasha muttered.
Alone once more, Data felt a sense of relief. His jaw unclenched, his shoulders went slack.
Tasha exhaled slowly.
All of sudden, it was like the mood had changed.
"Data? Do you want to talk about what happened?" Tasha offered.
"Not at this time," Data answered.
A beat passed.
"Do you? Do you wish to discuss-"
"I want to talk about this," Tasha said as she gripped Data's backside.
Captain Picard took a sip of tea.
He set the teacup back down on the saucer harder than intended.
"Mr Data and Lieutenant Yar have still not come down," Picard observed.
Guinan looked up from her plate.
"I don't think they're in any danger," Guinan said. "Stay here. Enjoy your breakfast."
"Perhaps I should go check on them?" Picard wondered aloud.
"Perhaps you should just do as you're told," Lwaxana huffed as she sliced the sausage on Mr Barclay's plate into manageable pieces.
She had really thrown herself into the role of motherhood. In truth, Lwaxana was overjoyed to have someone that welcomed it.
She slid Reg's plate back in front of them. Then, she tucked his napkin into his collar.
"There," she said. "You look far too smart in that jacket to drop your eggs on it."
Jean-Luc couldn't set aside his concern for the crew.
"What if I just-"
"NO!" Guinan and Lwaxana insisted in unison.
Tasha collapsed against Data.
He pressed a soft kiss against her bare shoulder as Tasha caught her breath.
"Mmm," she responded in a hazy voice.
Data would be perfectly content not to leave his bed for the duration of the trip. But Tasha's loud, grumbling stomach was a signal they would have to get up eventually.
"You require sustenance," Data said.
It had been more than twenty-four hours since Tasha had last eaten. Between her capture, daring escape, and recapture, Tasha had not had the time for a proper meal.
Hell, she hadn't even had a snack.
It was already past noon.
But for the moment, she was happy simply to be in Data's arms.
"Ugh. I don't want to get up yet," Tasha said.
She wasn't ready to face the rest of the team. She certainly didn't want to see Q or Lore anytime soon. And she needed a bath.
All of a sudden, there was a flash of light.
Data sniffed at the air.
He could smell something. Rather, he smelled a number of pleasing aromas.
Data glanced to the left where a cart with a large silver tray had appeared.
"Provisions," he remarked.
"I smell waffles," Tasha said.
Tasha extracted herself from Data's embrace, tripping on the tangle of blankets en route to her destination.
The cart featured carafes of tea and coffee. There was fresh juice, plates for two, marmalade, syrup, and more - even a bottle of champagne.
A placard of white cardstock was present to identify the contents. The eggs were coddled, creamy, and served in the Creole fashion with artichoke, spinach, and rich hollandaise (the way Data liked them). The sausage was vegetarian (much to Tasha's relief).
The strawberries were fresh, the mushrooms were fried, and the potatoes looked delightfully crisp.
There was even a bottle of Tasha's favourite hot sauce.
The first bite of waffle tasted fluffy and heavenly.
Tasha felt Data's hand on her shoulder.
Her body stiffened.
She had far too much food in her mouth to swallow in any sort of dignified manner.
Data kissed her very full cheek and chuckled. She looked rather like a Tamias striatus, or Eastern Chipmunk native to Earth, just as Tasha often did when enjoying a good meal.
"I take the food passes muster?" he asked.
Tasha swallowed hard, choking down half of a waffle that was barely chewed.
"It's real butter," she said as she fed a forkful of food into Data's mouth.
"Mmm," he replied in appreciation of the flavour.
It was followed by a tomato and then a piece of sausage. It was an awfully good thing Data had the capacity to break food down faster than most humanoids (and no need to breathe) because Tasha was shovelling food into his mouth.
"We could-"
"Try this!" she said, stabbing one of the mushrooms.
"I believe napkins would-"
"Ooo. Ooo! Aren't these eggs just dreamy?" Tasha interjected.
Data couldn't get a word in edgewise.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Data mused.
He reached for the biggest strawberry he could find and stuffed it in Tasha's mouth. A moment later, he captured her lips.
When the kiss ended, Data slipped two fingers under Tasha's chin.
"If you please, draw a bath. I will fetch fresh towels and clean attire from the wardrobe and join you momentarily," Data instructed.
They could enjoy a soak and brunch.
Tasha cocked her head to the side.
"Most efficient," Tasha teased in her best possible imitation of Data.
Data kissed Tasha's forehead. Then he playfully swatted her backside.
"Scoot," he ordered.
Data heard the sound of the tap and the tub filling.
He stripped off his drawstring trousers and shorts before he realised Lore had made off with his prized dressing gown.
Fortunately, there were fresh towels in the wardrobe. Data wrapped one of the large, fluffy white ones around his bony hips and grabbed a few to take into the bath.
Data spied the familiar petals of the yellow rose he'd worn the night before on his jacket. It sat atop the writing desk near the fire.
Data plopped it into a short glass of water on the cart. It was perfect.
Tasha called out from the next room. She was storing the bath salts.
"Data? Do you want lavender and vanilla or honeysuckle and bergamot?"
"I am so glad we're doing this together," Beverly said.
Wesley and Beverly had spent the morning exploring the manor. Wesley shared his mother's curious nature.
Beverly had readily accepted her son's invitation to join the expedition to seek out all the various hidden passages dotted throughout the manor.
The Crushers enjoyed a close relationship. It had been just the two of them for the last decade.
Beverly knew Wesley struggled to make friends among his peers. He was the smartest kid in every room. Despite his intentions, Welsey often came across as a know-it-all.
As a result, he spent more nights than most at home playing cards with his mum or working on a project. Wesley liked to cook too. And he often took it upon himself to make dinner for the family.
Beverly couldn't complain.
She knew that this time couldn't last. All too soon, Wesley would be off to Starfleet Academy and the good doctor would find herself with an empty nest.
So, Beverly cherished moments like this.
They may have been crammed in a tight, circular stairwell that wound through the estate and had no windows – but Beverly wouldn't change it for all the gold-pressed latinum in the universe.
"Wes?" she said, catching her son's hand.
Wesley stopped.
"Mum?" he asked, turning back to her.
"Thank you for inviting me," Beverly said.
Wesley smiled.
"Of course, mum," he replied.
"Now let's get out of here. This stairwell is so musty!" Beverly said.
They shared a laugh.
"I think we're almost there. I can see light ahead," Wesley replied.
Data plunged his hand into the bucket of ice to retrieve the bottle of champagne. Towel in hand, he made light work of the cork.
"I may not always love you. But as long as there are stars above you," he crooned.
The cork released with a small 'pop.' Data caught it with ease in the towel.
"You never need to doubt it. I will make so sure about it."
The faint, pale colour of the champagne bubbled as Data poured two glasses atop the catering cart. Data put the champagne back on ice.
Much to his delight, there was a second bottle on the lower shelf of the cart.
Data could not experience intoxication. But he enjoyed the effervescent sensation of such tiny bubbles. They made his nose tingle in a way that was most pleasurable.
Champagne also had a way of setting Tasha at ease.
It made her face flush and her eyes sparkle.
And it made her laugh.
"God only knows what I would be without you," Data sang.
A door creaked open. Data looked up and expected to find Tasha standing in the doorframe. But he realised the door to the lavvy had been cracked open the whole time.
Data cocked his head to the side. His brow was heavily furrowed.
"Whoa!" Wesley Crusher said.
He emerged from the shadows with his mother.
"We must be at the top of the tower!" Wes exclaimed.
He rushed over to the window and gasped in awe of the view. It overlooked the entire northeast end of the estate.
Excited by their discovery, the Crushers had failed to notice Data.
Data cleared his throat.
Beverly and Wesley turned slowly, half-expecting to find Q.
Beverly blanched the moment she caught sight of Data in a towel.
"Oh, Data. Forgive us," she apologised.
Her face was warm, flushed with embarrassment.
"Hi, Data!" Wesley said brightly.
He frowned.
"We missed you at breakfast. Are you just getting up? It's almost 13:00 hours," Wesley remarked, noting Data's shirtless appearance and tousled hair.
"We'll just be on our way," Beverly said.
She gripped Wesley's elbow and pulled him back toward the hidden door that sat on the wall near the fireplace.
Wesley shook off his mother's arm.
"That was really something last night," Wes said.
He admired Data – now even more so.
"How did you know what to do?" Wesley asked.
"I had no way of knowing," Data acknowledged. "I am simply relieved it ended in success."
"We all are," Beverly said, flashing Data a brilliant smile.
She squeezed Wesley's arm.
"And now, we'll make ourselves scarce so you can celebrate," Beverly said, wordlessly urging Wesley to shake a leg.
"We should do something to celebrate!" Wesley suggested.
Data's eyebrows shot up.
"We?" he asked in disbelief.
Data did not wish to be rude. He only wanted them to leave quickly so he might spend the afternoon alone with Tasha.
In the next room, Tasha shut off the tap.
The tub was nice and full. Steam rose from the surface of the water.
"Data?" she called out.
All of the colour drained from Wesley's face.
At fifteen, Wesley didn't enjoy the same pursuits as many of his colleagues. He was satisfied with his duties and studies.
Relationships were the last thing on Wesley's mind.
Data silently pleaded for Wes to understand.
"Sorry," Wes apologised.
"It is quite alright," Data assured him before quickly adding, "now please leave."
The moment they were gone, the door vanished behind them.
Then his dressing gown appeared on a hook by the wardrobe.
The only reasonable explanation was that Q must have seen fit to seal off the secret passageway too. Data wasn't entirely sure if he found that thought comforting or disconcerting.
All doubt vanished when Tasha appeared in the doorway.
"Everything alright?" she asked.
A strange smile spread across Data's face.
"Everything is as it should be."
Lore angrily cinched a towel around his exposed body.
"You could have at least allowed me to take it off first," Lore muttered.
"You stole it," Q replied with a nonchalant shrug.
Lore paused digging through his luggage long enough to shoot Q a sharp glare.
He quickly dressed.
Lore smoothed his hair. Next, he turned side to side in the mirror to study his appearance, ensuring there was not a strand out of place.
"Am I free to go then?" Lore asked.
Q pouted.
"You don't wish to stay?" he pressed.
Lore said nothing in response. He angrily stuffed his comb and aftershave into his bag.
He may have sneered at such human customs, but Lore found a sense of confidence that came from being sharply dressed and put together.
Stupid programming. Lore thought.
"But there's so much to do. The whole estate is at your disposal. What else are you going to do, huh? Sulk home in your little starship?" Q asked.
Lore made a face.
"I would rather spend a week in a sentient cave than have to remain here," Lore hissed.
He closed the latch on his luggage.
"It's not like they even want me here," Lore added.
"Well, you are right about that," Q acknowledged.
Lore studied Q for a moment before he worked up the courage to ask the one question that had burned on his mind ever since the strange god-like Q had approached him.
"Why?"
Q had been skint on the details. He'd given Lore a good line about wanting to toy with Jean-Luc and the crew. But they had never been in any real danger.
And Lore suspected it wasn't just about the power dynamic of playing puppet master.
Q had shut down Lore's attempts to gain information about the Enterprise. He had intervened to protect the crew and the ship.
"Why all the fuss? If this was really about antagonising Picard – just send them back to the ship and be done with it."
"At some point, you have to give the rats a nibble at the cheese. Otherwise, they'll never run the maze again," Q explained.
Lore snorted.
"Is that what we are then? Just rats to you?"
"Oh no, you humanoids are far more valuable," Q responded with an ominous twinkle in his eyes. "And far more entertaining."
He chuckled softly as if he were amused by some private thought or tidbit of knowledge Lore was not privy to.
"And now you lump me in with the rest of them?" Lore scoffed. "I thought I was your partner."
"You are," Q insisted.
Lore turned to go.
He wasn't exactly sure where he could go. There was no guarantee an arch awaited were he to summon it.
Lore simply wished to return to solitude.
"I thought it was splendid!" Q declared as he clasped his hands together.
Lore quirked a lone eyebrow.
"Splendid? They refused to cooperate. They escaped. They very nearly ruined the whole plan," Lore pointed out.
He would hardly classify their endeavour as a success.
"So, then. What's next for us?" Q asked.
His tone was cheery – and that left Lore feeling alarmed.
"Us?"
"Well, you are my partner," Q said.
Q threw his arm around Lore.
"Do you know what makes my spinach puffs so irresistible?" Q asked.
Lore shook his head. He was tired of hearing about the damn spinach puffs.
"I'm sure anyone could perfect a recipe if they had the ability to stop time," Lore said.
It was a poor attempt at a dig and they both knew it. Rather than feeling slighted, Q thought it was a good sign.
"You aren't just my partner. You're the secret ingredient. The dash of chaos that makes this all the sweeter," Q said.
Lore's face soured. His jaw tightened.
"I hate being compared to an object," Lore said.
"Oh, I know," Q replied with a broad smile.
He pinched Lore's cheek.
"But you had fun!" Q said. "Admit it!"
Lore pulled away and scowled.
"I found some degree of satisfaction," Lore begrudgingly admitted.
He crossed his arms and straightened his back.
"But that doesn't mean I want to do this again. I'm perfectly capable of contacting my brother free of your meddling," Lore added.
He didn't want to contribute to Q's inflated ego.
"I don't need games or costumes," Lore went on.
"Don't start criticising my choices. It's about creating ambience," Q said.
He gestured to the room with its grand furnishings.
"All you humanoids are the same! What fun is it to throw someone into a dark cell to watch them squirm?" Q complained. "Especially when you can have all of this."
Q gained far more satisfaction from the long game.
He liked to keep his targets on their toes, to watch them devolve, turn on one another, and question their own sanity.
"So, what comes next?" Q pressed.
Lore baulked.
"You cannot seriously-"
"Yes, I can. We'll do this again. Another time. Another place. I'll make a few tweaks," Q said.
"I'll not be ordered about," Lore demanded as if he had any authority to negotiate with a powerful omnipotent being.
Q snapped his fingers.
Three boxes appeared on the table.
The boxes were the same – all wrapped in identical brown paper and twine. They had no distinguishing features that Lore could discern.
"I am to pick?" Lore inquired.
"I chose the last one. And we are partners," Q said.
Lore moved forward to pick up one of the boxes. He presumed he was expected to unwrap them. Before he could study it, Q intervened.
"I don't get to see what my choices are?" Lore scoffed.
Q grinned.
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Fine," Lore replied in a curt tone.
He reached for the box on the left and thrust it toward Q.
"When can I expect you?" Lore asked.
"I'll let you know," Q replied.
It was technically a response, but hardly an answer.
Lore did not get the opportunity to press the issue. He was surrounded by a great flash of light.
A moment later, he reappeared on the Bridge of his ship.
"Thank you," Tasha said as Data handed her a steaming mug of tea.
Tasha responded by passing Data a box of takeaway.
Their holiday had come to an end.
After three days, the arch had reappeared. Starbase 515 was none the wiser and life had returned to normal.
Now, the team was back aboard the Enterprise and settling into their duties.
It had been a long first day back after spending nearly a week in Q's game.
Data and Tasha had opted for takeaway from Ten Forward for dinner. They were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa in Tasha's quarters.
Tasha reached behind the sofa and pulled out a wrapped package.
"What is this?" Data inquired.
"A gift," Tasha replied.
Data stared down at the box. It was wrapped in shiny gold paper.
"Go on, open it," Tasha said.
Data sat unmoving.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I love you and it was your birthday," Tasha replied.
Data glanced up. He cocked his head to the side. Tasha could practically hear his neural net firing inside Data's mind.
"Don't overthink it," Tasha urged.
"Forgive me, I find I am overcome with-"
Data paused.
Questions.
Emotions.
There was too much going on in Data's mind to process it all.
"The custom of gift-giving is shared by numerous cultures. On Earth, ancient Romans held lavish parties. There is the Chinese tradition of Zhuazhou. Betazoid custom includes a special ritual on a person's thirteenth birthday," Data said.
He was rambling now.
"Klingons prefer to spend their birthdays in solitude and view it as a time for meditation and reflection. But on Risa, the custom is to hold a public feast. Instead of receiving gifts, the birthday celebrant is expected to shower their friends and neighbours with presents," Data went on.
Tasha listened patiently and without interruption.
She didn't mind Data's informational rants. In fact, she found them endearing.
"On Ysgwon III, the people spend three days preparing a special stew. It is served with a savoury bread made from ground usplo grain. One is expected to eat as many bowls as they can stomach. For it is said that bad fortune and poor harvests will follow if food is left uneaten," Data explained.
Suddenly, Data stopped.
"And I did not get you anything for your birthday," Data said.
"I don't really like gifts," Tasha reminded him gently.
Data frowned.
"You do understand this was not expected. You do not need to present me with-"
"I don't like receiving gifts," Tasha clarified.
She grinned.
"But I do so love to give them."
Data relaxed.
A droplet of moisture fell on top of the package, staining the paper. It was followed by a second, thick golden tear.
Tasha reached for Data's hand.
"I am s-sorry," Data sobbed. "No one has ever…. ever given me a birthday gift."
"Well, you've never had a proper birthday before," Tasha replied.
She squeezed his hand.
"But that's going to change. From here on out, I will always remember your birthday," Tasha promised. "And now that you've got one, I'm sure your friends will too."
Data offered her a weak smile.
"It is a strange notion that a calendar date could elicit such a strong emotional response," Data confessed.
"It's not strange at all. It's a part of who you are," Tasha said.
Data carefully removed the paper and slid the gift out.
It was a box.
Data could surmise it was a board game, though he did not recognise it.
"It is a game," Data announced.
Murder at the Manor.
"You try to figure out who the killer is. It's a game all about inheritance, secrets, and solving puzzles," Tasha explained.
She flashed Data one of her signature smiles.
"That way you can be the inspector any time you like – without Q," Tasha said.
Data slid the top of the box off and stared in awe at all the pieces. The gameboard was a work of art. He picked up the cards and shuffled through the various instructions.
"There is a level of deductive reasoning required. But it would seem most of this game is based on chance," Data said.
Tasha's heart sank.
"Well, yeah. It's not entirely about skill. Some of it's luck," she acknowledged. "I'm sorry. I truly am. They just don't make a lot of board games with-"
Data silenced her with a kiss.
"It is perfect," he declared.
Data so rarely played traditional board games with his friends. He had a knack for unintentionally spoiling the game. Data could quickly identify patterns, play styles, or even inadvertently 'hack' the game to his advantage.
Data did mean to cheat – it was just the way his brain functioned.
"Knowing there is an element of random chance that influences the outcome only increases my excitement to play," Data shared. "It means my success is not guaranteed. You will have a chance to win."
Tasha's eyebrows shot up.
Data panicked.
"I did not mean to imply you are incapable of victory under other circumstances," Data quickly clarified. "You are a most fearsome opponent."
Tasha didn't always show it, but Data knew she could be a little sensitive when it came to talking about intelligence.
It wasn't just that Data could process trillions of calculations at once. Tasha knew she would never be at that level.
Tasha had never had a formal education before Starfleet Academy. She'd had to work twice as hard as her peers.
Data often reminded Tasha that the concept of intelligence was hardly a 'one size fits all' notion. Her ability to pick up languages, detect patterns, and strategise was no less impressive than Geordi's understanding of circuitry and physics.
But it remained a sensitive topic.
"Would it help if I kissed again?" Data offered.
Tasha chuckled.
"It might," she replied with a coy smile.
Tasha lingered near Data's lips.
"I'm going to kick your arse," she declared.
"We'll see," Data replied.
He tore open the game and made quick work of setting it up on the coffee table. Data selected the marker token that looked like a pipe. He figured it was likely an homage to the fictional Sherlock Holmes.
Tasha picked up the tiny bicycle and studied it for a moment.
"Father Brown," Data said.
"A good detective?" Tasha asked.
"A priest," Data said. "But very adept at solving mysteries. He used his intuition and understanding of human behaviour to solve mysteries. Not unlike you."
Tasha looped her arm through Data's. She rested her head against his shoulder.
"I'm glad that this business with Q is finished," she said.
I hope it is. Data thought.
Data had a sneaking suspicion it was only the beginning.
Three Years Later
Alexander Rozhenko clenched his fists. He shook with anger as he glared up at his father.
"But I want to!" Alexander said.
"I have already said no," Worf responded in his signature smooth baritone voice.
Alexander's face scrunched up in defiance of his father.
"All of the other kids are going!" Alexander protested.
It was hard enough being the only Klingon child on board. Alexander didn't want to risk being ostracised for missing the biggest event. He knew all the kids at school would be talking about it the next day.
His absence would only raise suspicion and set him further apart from his peers.
Worf frowned.
"That is not true. Not all of the other children are going," Worf explained.
Worf and Alexander had spent much of the last two weeks having detailed discussions on the subject. Worf knew that the Vidreen children would not be in attendance. Nor would the Som children be at the highly anticipated Halloween 'Spooktacular' hosted at Ten Forward.
The Vidreen family were Grazerites. And Grazerites did not celebrate Halloween.
The Som family were devout in their Bajoran faith and adhered to a strict interpretation of that faith practised by an obscure, conservative sect of the Bajoran population. They were wary to embrace too many outside customs for fear it would undermine or influence their own beliefs.
Alexander crossed his arms.
"That's just because Ago and Hala's mum and dad are weird," Alexander said.
Worf could empathise. The Halloween party was going to be a big event. It was all most of the children on the ship had talked about for the last month.
Worf dropped to his knees so he could talk at eye level with his son.
"They only seek to protect their cultural traditions. We must respect that," Worf said.
In truth, Worf himself often struggled with balancing it.
Worf's own personal beliefs and traditions were a melange of his Klingon roots, Gault's farming colony traditions, and his own adopted Balto-Slavic heritage – all of which was under the broader umbrella of his upbringing in the Jewish faith.
October was a busy month.
Between all the various festivals, school conferences, and activities, Worf had barely had a chance to catch his breath.
Alexander was in football. He had painting classes with Data and enjoyed helping Keiko in the Arboretum.
There was Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Worf had tried his hand at hosting, inviting the Soong-Yar family to join as he and Alexander broke the fast.
A week earlier, Worf had taken Alexander to witness the Bajoran festival of Aar Li Boryhas with all its vibrant drumming and milaberry cakes.
They'd gone to the Chinese Mooncake Festival, danced at Oktoberfest, and eaten far too much seafood at the Risian festival of the moons known as Lohlunat.
And they would join in the Diwali celebrations in just a few weeks.
Worf had readily allowed Alexander to select a costume. They had gone through the corn maze at the Arboretum over the weekend – even selecting a pumpkin to carve together.
Worf had also given Alexander permission to join Keiko, Data, and their girls for trick or treating on Halloween night.
Molly O'Brien and little Miss Soong-Yar were close in age and thick as thieves.
Alexander had readily been accepted into the fold, even if he was a little older.
Data and Tasha's daughter was probably the closest Alexander would ever come to having a sibling. By virtue of Tasha's position as Worf's IoDnl'pu (or 'sibling in blood'), her child was also a daughter of the House of Mogh.
At sixteen months, she had already proven herself a capable warrior with a strong grip and sharp teeth.
Small, yet mighty.
Alexander desperately wanted to join all of the Halloween celebrations.
But the party itself at Ten Forward conflicted with the important Klingon practice of Yob GhotI' a' SaQ.
It commemorated the legend of a time when Klingon warriors rose up against a tyrant. The legend said that these warriors destroyed the tyrant and his house – using the ashes to fertilise the ground on Khitomer.
It symbolised rebirth and celebrated the importance of farming colonies that fed the warriors of the Klingon Empire.
Khitomer was Worf's ancestral home.
He was descended from an old and noble house of warriors that had long played a key role in providing food and fuel from the rich soil on Khitomer.
The night of Yob GhotI' a' SaQ was one of the most revered days of the Klingon calendar.
Worf took hold of his son's hand.
"I know that this party is important to you. But so is our Klingon identity. And now that you are old enough to understand, I would very much like to share this holiday with you," Worf said.
"But father-"
"We will make zukara cakes. You may help me shred the roots and mix the batter," Worf offered, hoping to entice Alexander with a favourite.
Alexander's tiny scowl remained firmly in place.
"It's NOT fair!" Alexander roared.
He pushed his way past his father and rushed out their family quarters.
Worf sighed and let him go.
Alexander would be off to seek refuge in the library. It was where he always went when he needed some time apart from his father.
At first, Worf had been concerned about him going off on his own.
But Helena Rozhenko was a wise woman. On her sage advice, Worf had reluctantly adopted a policy of giving Alexander space to cool off before they would revisit an issue of contention.
Outside, Alexander raced down the corridor toward the lift.
He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and his father.
And his father's obstinate attitude.
And stupid Klingon traditions.
To a child, it all felt terribly unfair.
Alexander stomped onto the lift.
"Deck eleven," he ordered.
Alexander was so consumed by his frustration that he didn't even realise there was another person standing next to him.
It was another thirty seconds before he noticed the long shadow on the floor.
Alexander now felt embarrassed about his angry display.
"Sorry for being angry," Alexander said. "I'm just mad at my father. Not you."
Alexander was only three. But in his short life, both his mother and father had impressed upon him the importance of composure and decorum.
After all, his father was a highly regarded Starfleet officer. Alexander's mother had been an important diplomat.
He had a lot to live up to.
"He's not very much fun, is he?"
Alexander hadn't expected that response.
He turned and looked up at the tall, lean figure next to him. He wore a grey civilian jumpsuit with a green accoutrement.
"You just want to enjoy Halloween," the man went on.
Alexander nodded. He was relieved to find an adult that understood.
"You want an adventure," the man said.
Alexander's eyes lit up.
The man flashed him a wicked smile.
"Why don't we go to the holodeck?" he suggested, offering his hand to Alexander.
At this, Alexander backed away.
"I'm supposed to go there without an adult. And you're a stranger," Alexander pointed out.
"Quite right!" the man agreed. "You're a good kid, aren't you, Alexander?"
Alexander shrugged.
"I try to be. But all I do is make my dad upset. He's always grumpy."
The man knelt down next to Alexander.
"Awww, he loves you very much," he assured him. "I know you are a good boy. And I think you deserve a little treat. Would you like that?"
Alexander nodded eagerly.
"And maybe a little trick for your father?" the man pressed.
Alexander smirked.
The offer did sound appealing.
"I don't know," Alexander confessed.
The very last thing he wanted to do was upset his father. Alexander didn't want to risk getting into trouble.
"I don't know you. And I don't want to do anything mean to my father," Alexander.
"Oh, of course! We won't do anything mean. Just a harmless little trick, eh?" the man said.
He offered Alexander his hand.
"I promise. We'll shake on it."
Alexander took hold of the much larger man's hand. They shook and sealed it with a nod.
"But I don't know you," Alexander repeated.
"Then don't go with me. Go with a friend," Q said.
The lift stopped on deck 10. The doors opened.
Sitting on the floor in the middle of the corridor was little Miss Soong-Yar.
Her face lit up at the sight of Alexander. She clapped her hands and scooted back and forth on the carpet.
"Go on," the man said as he gestured for Alexander to go ahead.
As if on cue, baby Soong-Yar pointed down the corridor in the direction of the holodeck.
"Bah!" she announced.
She pulled herself to her feet and started to toddle off.
Alexander looked up and down the corridor, but Data and Tasha were nowhere to be found. Certainly, she could not have wandered far without them.
Ten Forward was nearby. But it seemed unlikely she would have made it out the door on her own.
Alexander rushed out after her.
"Wait! What are you doing here?"
But she took off, giggling all the while and sprinting as fast as her chunky legs could carry her.
She tripped in front of the arch that led to holodeck three.
"You're too little to be on your own," Alexander said.
He took his duties as the heir to the House of Mogh seriously. That included looking out for the girl that was, for all intents and purposes, his little sister.
She was far too big for such a small child to carry. So, Alexander took hold of her hand.
"Come on. Let's go find your mummy and daddy," he said.
Just then, the arch slid open.
What awaited beyond was not the standard neon grid. It looked nothing like any of the holodeck programmes Alexander had ever seen before.
It was dark. A low fog clung to the ground. It lingered and showed no sign of dissipating.
Against all conventional understanding of holodeck functions, the fog crept out along the floor into the corridor. It surrounded Alexander and his companion. A chill followed.
Wolves howled in the distance. Overhead, the moon shone bright.
Lightning shot across the sky followed by a crack of thunder.
Alexander gripped her hand.
"Come on. We should go," he said.
The whole place was eerie.
But when he turned, Alexander found the corridor was gone.
They were standing in the middle of a valley, bookended by snow-capped mountains. They stretched as far as the eye could see on all sides. The only structure in sight was a castle.
It sat perched on a craggy mountainside, surrounded by treacherous, winding mountain roads.
And the only thing standing between them and the castle was a forest.
And old, dark, thick forest.
"I don't think we should be here," Alexander said.
Another flash of lightning streaked across the sky.
Alexander glanced down at his companion.
Her tiny bottom lip began to quiver. Her shoulders tensed. She took a great, shaky breath before she threw her head back and wailed.
The tears came thick and fast.
"It's alright. We'll find a way home," Alexander assured her.
Alexander remembered something from his sessions with his father and Counsellor Troi. She had advised that children felt better when they had a role.
As it had been costume day at school, Alexander was still wearing his Sheriff getup. He detached the magnetic badge and pinned it to her baby jumper.
"There. You can be my deputy," Alexander declared.
She sniffled and clutched Alexander's leg.
Suddenly, there was a burst of bright light.
Jean-Luc Picard appeared out of nowhere. He glanced around and surveyed the landscape.
"Q?" he roared.
The man from the lift appeared with an audible 'pop.'
"You rang?" he asked.
"What is this?" Picard demanded.
Q took a dramatic breath, making a point of inhaling slowly just to irritate Picard.
"Do you smell that?" Q asked.
Jean-Luc sniffed at the air. He frowned.
"I don't smell anything," Picard said in a terse voice.
"Fresh Carpathian air!" Q exclaimed. "There's really nothing quite like the Transylvanian alps."
Jean-Luc had a sinking feeling that he knew where this latest Q encounter was headed.
"And that is Castle Dracula!" Q said.
He whipped around and flung his arm into the air, pointing at the castle in the distance. Once more, lightning streaked across the sky as if to shoot out from the tips of Q's fingers.
Alexander shivered.
"Now, it is one thing for you to toy with me. But you would bring two children here. Drop them in the middle of nowhere alone?" Picard fumed.
Q feigned innocence.
"But they are not alone. They are with you," Q pointed out.
Jean-Luc's face soured.
"And I know you'll look after them. Who better could keep them safe than the famed Doctor Abraham Van Helsing?" Q asked.
Jean-Luc's face turned purple.
"Have you lost your mind?" he spluttered, shaking with rage.
Before being so rudely pulled away, Picard had been in the midst of an important briefing with Data and Geordi on the matter of their engine status.
Q pouted.
"Young Alexander here is always eager to fight monsters on the holodeck and father never lets him," Q said. "And this one-"
He knelt down and wiggled his finger at Data's daughter.
She squealed. Her signature, bubbling laugh stood in stark contrast to the bleak setting.
"She's not afraid of little ghoulish fun," Q said.
Q stood back up, pulling himself up to the full height of his frame. He towered over Jean-Luc and the children.
"You had better get moving. It looks like a storm is coming," Q advised.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. A gust of wind blew right through them and shook the trees.
"Ta ta for now," Q said with a small wave.
Data's daughter raised her arms and curled her fingers to wave goodbye.
"Bye byes," she cooed.
Q vanished, leaving Captain Picard alone with the two children.
Jean-Luc felt a small tug at the seam of his trousers. Alexander was trying to get his attention.
"I'm really sorry, sir," Alexander apologised.
He could sense the Captain's anger.
"This is not your fault," Picard said.
When he spoke, his voice was much softer than before.
"We will simply have to find a way out of here," Picard said.
In spite of the Captain's words, Alexander still felt guilty. He'd agreed to Q's proposal, not knowing what that meant.
"We'll find our way back home," Picard assured him, presuming Alexander was just worried about the strange setting. "Until then, I'll need to rely on your skills as a monster hunter, Mr Rozhenko."
Alexander replied with a stiff nod.
"It's sheriff," he said, tipping his hat to the Captain.
Jean-Luc scooped up the wee Miss Song-Yar into his arms.
"Number one," he said, addressing her with his nickname for the girl.
She responded in kind by flopping forward to bite his hand (as she often did to anyone that came within range).
Jean-Luc hissed in pain.
Her teeth seemed to grow sharper by the day.
"Let's pray we find the road home before you need a fresh nappy," Picard said.
She looked up at the Captain, flashing him a grin to show off her new teeth. In addition to her handful of baby teeth, she was now sporting two new, long pointed incisors.
"Or before you need to feed," Picard added with a hint of alarm.
With the baby in one arm and Alexander holding his other hand, Jean-Luc and his two companions set off down the road toward the dark forest.
Final Thoughts: And there you have it! Thank you so much for your support with this series (in particular these companion stories).
The next piece, Creature Feature, is a classic movie monster romp. As the preview indicates, it will include the 'next generation.' Molly O'Brien will make an appearance too!
As a reminder, this story takes place in 2364. The preview of Creature Feature is set in 2367 (after the birth of Shinebug AKA Miss Soong-Yar).
As we see in TNG & DS9, Klingon children age faster than human children.
Alexander is certainly walking, talking, and thinking at a much more advanced level than a typical one year old when we meet him again in Reunion.
But I don't want Alexander to grow up too fast.
In my own headcanon, Klingon children sort of shoot up in the first year with a rapid progression through the toddler stage.
I also plan to place Alexander's birth in late 2365 instead of 2366.
He's just shy of three when see him here (2367). But in terms of development and milestones, he's closer to a five- or six-year-old human child.