Q & A - Keith R. A. DeCandido [10]
“Actually,” another Q said, “we told you to give Picard the power of the Q.” He shrugged. “Not that it matters—one human’s the same as another, really. Have you noticed they all look alike?”
“The point is,” the first Q snapped, “you couldn’t resist making a game of it, could you?”
He shrugged. “And why shouldn’t I? Simply making Riker into a Q just like that was so…”
With a smile on her face, another Q—his favorite, the one he’d dallied with more than once—said, “Dull?” She’d always understood him best.
“Exactly!” he cried, thrilled at an advocate, especially thrilled that it was her. “Why not make the game interesting?”
“Two reasons,” the first Q said angrily. “One, it is not a game. Two, I fail to see how mixing the histories of two worlds in a fantasy war can in any way be defined as ‘interesting.’”
Q shook her head. “He has a point, Q.”
He sighed. “Look, none of this matters. The point is, there’s a very good chance that humans are the ones. If they are—”
“They aren’t,” the first Q said dismissively.
“Why are you so certain?” he asked.
“Why are you?” another Q retorted.
He said emphatically, “Because I’ve been paying attention. I’ve flitted about the cosmos spreading chaos in my wake, it’s true, but what I’ve been doing is observing.”
“You truly expect us to believe that scientific curiosity prompts your meddling?”
“Of course not,” he said, sounding offended. “Fun prompts my meddling. The scientific observation is merely a fortunate side effect. And from those observations,” he added quickly before Q, Q, Q, Q, or Q could get a word in, “I have deduced that humanity stands the best chance of being the ones. All the signs point to it.”
“Those signs are vague and indistinct,” Q said, “and it’s my considered opinion, Q, that you’re using this surety as a feeble excuse to meddle further in human affairs.”
He smiled. “Believe me, Q, I don’t need an excuse, feeble or otherwise. If I just wanted to toy with this collection of ape-descended mammals, I would. But there’s more to them, I’m sure of it!”
“Why this urgency?” his favorite Q asked.
“The Borg. You know as well as I that they are most likely to come across Them first, and if they do—”
“They won’t,” another Q—his least favorite—said.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! I’m omnipotent.”
He laughed. “So’m I, Q, and I’m telling you, I’m not so sure.”
“Enough!” The first Q bellowed loudly enough to cause asteroids to explode. “You have tried the Q’s patience enough, Q. You are banned from the Continuum while we deliberate on your fate.”
That took him aback. “Banned?”
“Yes.”
“But—but—you can’t! The Continuum is my home! I can’t—”
Q gave him the stare she always used when he annoyed her—which was fairly often, if it came to that—and said, “You’re the one who enjoys flitting about the cosmos spreading chaos in your wake, dear. So go do it.”
And then he was gone from the Continuum. Aghast, he tried to access it, but the way was blocked to him. As an experiment, he changed into a star-singer, which worked just fine. Then he turned into an Aldebaran serpent, a Belzoidian flea, a Traveler, and a baseball bat.
I still have my powers. I’ve simply been denied the ability to go home.
For good measure, he tried to get into the Continuum a second time. Then a third. No luck. He even tried concentrating, something he hadn’t done in eons, and that didn’t work, either.
He considered his next move. The Continuum could take ages to deliberate, and he wasn’t sure the universe had that long. Even if it did, he was hardly about to wait around.
I may as well drop in on Jean-Luc. Make him an offer he can’t refuse. After all, what better way to observe him and his merry band of outcasts and make sure they are the ones than by becoming one of their idiot crew?
3
Enterprise
En route to Gorsach IX
Two days before the end of the universe
CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD SAT IN HIS READY room, perusing the daily report from his first officer. As alpha shift was winding down, he wanted