Q & A - Keith R. A. DeCandido [30]
No. Picard felt his stomach sink down into his toes. His heart rate probably tripled at the sound of that voice. It belonged to the trickster who had been tormenting him—and his crew, but mostly him, it seemed—on and off since the EnterpriseD’s very first mission.
Glancing over his shoulder, Picard saw that the medtech had turned around to reveal dark hair, a smug smile, mischievous eyes, and an all-around irritating demeanor.
Picard felt the blood drain from his face, and he could feel Worf tense next to him without even having to look.
“Hello, Jean-Luc, sorry I’ve been away so long. I must say, I just love what you’ve done with the place. Hope you did up the guest room for me.”
Sighing, Picard said, “Q.”
FOURTH INTERLUDE
The Continuum
Ten years before the end of the universe
HE WAS CONVINCED THAT THE REST OF THE CONTINUUM was wrong. In fact, most of the evidence he had favored the opposite conclusion—but try telling the Continuum that. A bunch of hidebound old toads, most of them. It had seemed at first that they were starting to believe him, but believing him meant taking action, and the Q were never especially skilled at taking action.
Q, at least, understood him—or, rather, she tolerated him, and had for many millennia now, despite his excesses.
This, however, was not one of those excesses. Not this time. All right, perhaps he was going about it all in a way that was excessive, but that was where the fun was.
After that business with Q—or, rather, “Amanda Rogers,” as she rather insanely insisted upon calling herself—and the nonsense with Vash, the Continuum had said that they had had enough of humans, that they were more trouble than they were worth, and that he should stay away from them.
He pleaded. He begged. He cajoled.
Did they listen? Of course not. They never ever ever listened to him. It grew tiresome. Instead, they threw ridiculous tasks at him, tried to get him to become a good and proper Q. And, to an extent, he obeyed. After all, he’d been cast out once over humanity and was in no great rush to relive the experience. Being human on Jean-Luc’s toy ship was quite probably the worst ordeal of his life, mostly by virtue of it being the only ordeal in his life. He was damned if he’d do that again.
So on the surface he continued to do as the Continuum asked.
And behind the scenes, he began to prepare the humans, in particular Jean-Luc. There was much to do with them and precious little time to do it.
Some of the groundwork had already been laid—assuming the humans actually figured it out, though there was no way to know that until the time came—but that still left plenty to do. The first preparation involved Jean-Luc and was the one he intended to have the most fun with. On the brink of death—and wouldn’t that be a kick in the teeth, Jean-Luc Picard dying before he had a chance to fulfill what he was certain was the captain’s destiny—he summoned Jean-Luc to the astral void.
“Welcome to the afterlife, Jean-Luc. You’re dead.”
8
Imperial Warbird Valdore
Romulan Star Empire
One day before the end of the universe
“SHIELDS?” COMMANDER DONATRA SCREAMED OVER the din of the battle klaxon.
From the gunnery station, Centurion T’Relek said, “Down to thirty percent.”
Donatra muttered a very old curse that her late lover, Admiral Braeg, used to use. “Where’s the rest of the fleet?”
“Unknown, Commander,” said Subcommander Liravek, her first officer who also ran the operations console. “Sensors are down.”
This time, Donatra yelled the curse. “Are the torpedo systems online yet?”
“Engineering says another minute.”
We don’t have another minute. She didn’t say the words aloud, as it wasn’t Liravek’s fault that her engineering staff was made up entirely of fools and incompetents. The Valdore was still in poor shape, having suffered damage at the hands of Shinzon’s Scimitar, as well as the rift that had been opened by that vessel’s destruction at the hands of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Donatra didn’t feel comfortable leaving her ship in the hands