All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [50]
He was caught completely off his guard. But in the next moment, he blustered back at her.
“I’m just trying to… There are larger concerns here than… Dammir, don’t you understand that—”
“I understand,” said Beverly, “that you would never have tolerated that kind of behavior back on the Enterprise. And I won’t here.”
Frustrated as he was, he had to concede that she had a point there. He would not have tolerated the kind of outburst he’d made on the bridge. He’d have sent the offender to his quarters to cool off. No—to the brig.
“You’re right,” he told her, chastened. “I was out of line. It won’t happen again. But you have to understand ú.. the stakes here are enormous. Q has assured me that all of humanity will be destroyed …. “
“I know,” she answered. “And that’s why I’m willing to stay here a while longer and keep looking.” Her features softened, the fury dimming in her eyes. “But I also want you to consider the possibility that none of what you’re saying is real.”
It was like a slap in the face. He took a step backward.
“What are you saying… ?” he stammered.
Beverly moved toward him. She took his hands in hers.
“Jean-Luc, I care for you too much not to tell you the truth, You have advanced Irumodic syndrome. I have to weigh the possibility that all of this… the anomaly, the threat to mankind, everything… is in your mind.” She paused. “I’ll stay here for another six hours… and that’s it. Then we’re heading home.”
He started to say something, but she gave him a look that told him she wouldn’t argue the matter. And this time, he accepted it.
“I want you to remember something,” Beverly said. “If it were anyone but you… anyone at all… I wouldn’t have come here in the first place. I wouldn’t even have considered it.”
He believed her. Releasing his hands, she left him in the room to simmer down and returned to her bridge.
Alone, Picard mulled the whole thing over—and knew that his ex-wife had spoken the truth. He had pushed her… pushed all of his old friends… about as far as he could. And out of friendship, out of loyalty, they had acceded to his demands. ‘But he could push them no further.
Suddenly, he got the sense that he was no longer by himself. There was someone in back of him.
Whirling, he saw what looked like a parody of an elderly man—someone with bags under his eyes, a mop of scraggly gray hair, and baggy, ill-fitting clothes. The grizzled old fellow was leaning on a cane and holding a hearing trumpet to one ear.
And, of course, it wasn’t just any old buzzard who had materialized uninvited on the Pasteur. It was Q.
“Eh?” he croaked, in an exaggeration of the captain’s voice. “What was that she said, sonny? I couldn’t quite hear her …. “
Picard scowled. “What’s going on here, Q? What have you done with the blasted anomaly?”
The old crow leaned closer to him, as if to hear better. “What’s that? Where’s your mommy? I don’t know, sonny… where did you leave her?”
The captain’s anger rose hot and red. “Stop this foolishness and answer me!” he bellowed, his voice cracking almost as badly as his adversary’s.
Q wagged a spindly, arthritic finger at him. “You young whippersnappers are so impatient… always wanting answersú Why don’t you just slow downú.ú smell the roses… learn to appreciate the finer things in life…”
Picard took an angry step toward his nemesisawho, with a quickness that belied his elderly condition, raised his cane and planted the tip of it in the center of the human’s chest. In that moment, Q’s manner became markedly less playful.
“Now,” he said, “don’t get carried away, my ancient friend. You’ll give yourself a heart attack. And I wouldn’t want you to shuffle off before your time… which should be very soon, in any case.”
“Not if I have any say in it!” the captain raged.
The entity peered into Picard’s left eye. “Is that a blood clot in there, or are you just glad to see me?”
The captain fought down his fury. “Just tell me one thing, all right? This anomaly