Q, for his part, merely stared disdainfully at Worf. In a loud voice he called out to the others at the party, "You'll have to forgive Worf.
He just discovered opposable thumbs and he's feeling overly confident." Worf took a step towards him.
"Worf!" said Picard.
"Heel," Q told him. He raised a hand up and Picard suddenly had a vision of Worf being hurled to the ground, made to heel and roll over, beg and fetch, and whatever humiliations the all-powerful alien might care to put him through. The loss of face, in front of all these people, would be so devastating that Worf might never recover.
Guinan stepped between them, her eyes blazing.
Q's lips drew back in a sneer.
Graziunas and Nistral were talking at the same time, protesting this treatment of a guest. Everything was happening much too quickly, and matters were spiralling completely out of control.
"Enough!" shouted Picard, his voice cutting through the conflicting chatter from all around and the combative mood of his own people.
There was dead silence. Riker had just shown up from somewhere within the crowd, and now he was standing next to Worf. He had placed a restraining hand on the Klingon's shoulder, and Picard was grateful for that.
"Captain, Tizarin tradition is quite clear," said Graziunas.
"We can discuss Tizarin tradition later," Picard told him. "For now, Q, let's discuss this outside." Q shrugged extravagantly. "As you wish, Picard." Picard and Q headed for the door, the crowd parting to let them through. Few people there were entirely sure of what was happening, but they knew better than to try and interfere.
Picard's officers started to follow, but Picard turned and snapped, "Stay here. See to the guests. Number One, try to explain matters to Graziunas and Nistral. Everyone else," and Picard tried to force an amiable smile that wound up looking more like a desperate grin, "enjoy yourselves. This is a party. I merely have to straighten out a small misunderstanding. It will take only a moment." It sounded lame, he knew. Even absurd. But he was trapped in an absurd situation, and he had to say and do something.
The doors hissed open, and Q gestured grandly. "After you, Picard," he said in that silkily irritating voice.
Picard had a momentary glimpse of Data about to enter the room. "Captain," began Data.
"Later, Data," said Picard, and he and Q stepped outside... the ship.
Chapter Eight
Wesley Crusher had never screamed at his post before.
He didn't scream this time, really. More like yelped in astonishment.
He had just come on duty. Actually, he wasn't really due to be up on the bridge. But he didn't feel like going to the party, because he had been unable to get a date and he was feeling self-conscious about that. So he figured that he would come up to the bridge and spend some time with Worf and Counselor Troi, but neither of them was there. He found that odd, since neither of them was really a party type. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off, and took his post.
He ran a quick systems check, satisfied himself that everything was in solid working order, and then glanced up at the screen.
Picard was on it.
Wesley practically leaped from his seat, crying out in alarm. Heads snapped around on the bridge in response, and questions of "What's the problem?" "What's wrong?" and such died in throats as they saw what Wesley was looking at.
"Oh, my God," said Lieutenant Clapp. Nearby, Lieutenant Burnside was trying to make sounds, but none were coming out.
Picard was floating dead ahead... not just floating, but moving, since he was pacing the Enterprise, and the starship was proceeding at a leisurely one-half sublight. Leisurely for a starship, that is. There was no record of a human being moving at one-half sublight unassisted, as Picard was doing. Then again, there was no record of a human being surviving for any length of time in airless space with no protective garb, and Picard was doing that too.
"What the hell?" muttered Ensign Chafin, who had stepped in at tactical. "You guys are seeing this too, right?" A thousand questions leaped into Wesley Crusher's mind. One answer was rung up.
"Q," he said.
Showing remarkable presence of mind, he immediately hit his communicator and said, "Bridge to transporter." "Transporter," replied the calm voice of O'Brien.
"O'Brien, don't ask, though it sounds crazy. The captain is dead ahead at," he glanced at the forward sweeps, "101 mark 1." "The captain?" said O'Brien incredulously.
"Lock on and beam him back in here." There was a moment of dead silence.
"O'Brien?" "Something's wrong," said O'Brien's alarmed voice. "Transporter is totally nonfunctional! I don't understand. Readings are all correct, energy's at the proper levels, but it simply refuses to work. Like there's some sort of short-circuit." "I was afraid of that," said Wesley. "Work on it." He was barking orders, he realized, to someone who distantly outranked him, but he spoke with such authority that O'Brien's only reply was a simple, "I'll let you know.
O'Brien out." "Bridge to Commander Riker," Wesley now said.
"Riker here," but Riker sounded definitely distracted. Wes had a feeling he knew why.
He could hear the sounds of babbling in the background. Riker was clearly in a crowd.
"Bridge, can this wait--?" "It's the captain." Riker's tone immediately snapped to full attention. "Where is he?" "Right in front of the ship." "What!" "He's dead ahead, pacing us at sublight.
Commander, would Q by any chance--?" "Good guess, Mr. Crusher. Riker to trans--" "I already tried that, Commander," said Crusher with frustrated urgency. "Transporter nonfunctional." "Great. Riker to shuttle bay. Prepare to launch a shuttlecraft. I'm on my way down. Bridge, keep me informed if anything changes. Riker out." Other members of the bridge crew were gathering around Wesley, all staring out in total befuddlement. The captain was waving his arms about as if trying to move. He was clearly not in control of the situation.
Wes tapped his communicator. "Bridge to Picard," he said, just to see what would happen. There was no response. He wasn't entirely surprised.
Burnside leaned forward, her long, reddish-orange hair brushing against Wesley's back. "What," she said in stupefaction, "is the captain doing out there?"
The turbolift shot towards the shuttle bay deck as Riker and Worf turned to Data.
"What did you see, Data?" he demanded.
"It happened very quickly," said Data. "I was about to enter the Ten-Forward lounge, when the captain emerged with someone who appeared to be Q. That surmise would seem to be supported by the fact that the captain dematerialized, virtually instantaneously. Q did as well." "By all rights, the captain should be long dead by the time we get there," said Riker.
"Then Q dies immediately after," said Worf, with more determination than common sense.
"I doubt that will be the case," Data said.
"From past behavior, it would appear that Q receives far more enjoyment from subjecting the captain to various difficult situations than could possibly be derived from merely killing him. I suspect that Q is making sure the captain is unharmed." The turbolift doors opened as Riker said, "Why do I derive little comfort from that?" They bolted towards the shuttle bay.
"Tell me about him." Deanna Troi stared into her mother's eyes.
All around them the party was resuming a subdued, if steady, buzz, as various Tizarin and guests tried to figure out what had just happened, and the handful of crewmen present who knew of Q's history tried to be noncommittal.
Fortunately, the sliding doors had blocked from everyone's view the sight of the captain and Q vanishing into thin air.
"About whom?" "That intriguing-looking gentleman who had Jean-Luc so nervous." She stared at her mother.
She didn't have to ask.
"You can't be serious," she said to Lwaxana.
Lwaxana laughed lightly. "Can't a woman even ask a simple question?" "There are no simple questions when it comes to that... person. Mother," said Deanna firmly, "do not think it. Do not contemplate it.
Do not toy with it in your wildest imaginings." Lwaxana Troi patted her daughter's face in a screamingly patronizing fashion.
"Don't worry about me, Little One. I can handle myself. Mister La Forge!" she called out and moved off to try and pump Geordi for information.
Deanna stood, quietly fuming.
Guinan stepped up to her. "Deanna--?" "Don't call me "Little One"!" Troi practically exploded, and she stormed away from Guinan.
The Ten-Forward hostess, who was still preoccupied with Q, merely shrugged. "Okay.
No "Little One." Got it."
The Enterprise loomed in front of Picard.
Intellectually he knew how large his ship was, and certainly he had been outside her enough times in a shuttlecraft. But that was altogether different from floating unassisted in a vacuum, looking up at the massive spacecraft gliding effortlessly through space.
Picard allowed himself to be impressed for a long moment by the glory and majesty of his ship. He was also impressed that instead of the numbing cold that he knew should accompany free-floating, the imminent death that would come, he felt as warm as if he were in his cabin.
That he wasn't already dead was a good indication to him that he wasn't going to die, at least not anytime soon. By the same token, the utter silence--and the utter helplessness of his situation-- threatened to overwhelm him.
"All right, Picard," came that voice. "Shall we chat?" He tried to spin in place, but moving about in zero g did not come easily. It had been something that was part of his academy training, certainly, but he had never been very proficient at it at the time. Now, years later, it didn't come any easier. "Q!" he shouted, not even wondering anymore how he could possibly hear voices in an airless vacuum. Undoubtedly he was hearing and speaking within his own head. "Q, show yourself!" Q appeared in space next to him, arms folded, looking quite comfortable with the situation. "You wished to step outside, Picard. You get what you wish for. Part of my new policy." Picard was doing everything he could to ignore the horror of his situation. He was totally at Q's mercy, floating there helplessly as he was. Then again, the simple and frustrating fact was that whenever the superpowered entity chose to make his noxious presence felt, Picard was always at his mercy. But the Enterprise captain had never backed down from him before and was not about to start now.
"What new policy are you talking about?" demanded Picard, making no effort to hide his irritation. He noticed with dim interest that small pieces of hurtling space particles ricocheted away from him the moment they got near.
"To try to be more like you," Q informed him airily.
"Rubbish," said Picard. "You've made your disdain for humanity all too plain." "And is someone not permitted to change their mind?" "There is nothing in your past behavior that gives the slightest indication you would do so," Picard snapped.
"You seem overly irritable, Jean-Luc." "I'm floating in empty space outside the Enterprise!" "So am I," said Q reasonably, "but you don't see me carrying on about it." Q glided over to him, looking serene and totally in control, which of course he was.
Picard had to admit to himself that the last time he'd seen Q look this sincere was when he appeared on the Enterprise bridge, naked and bereft of powers. It had taken a long time for Picard or anyone else to believe that Q was genuinely helpless. And he had, in fact, proven to be useful. Even--God help them all-- possessing a touch of self-sacrifice.
But still... Q, for pity's sake.
"Listen to me, Jean-Luc. Are you listening?" "Raptly," said Picard. He folded his arms, making an effort to appear nonchalant and trying not to think about the deadly vacuum that surrounded him and could crush him at Q's slightest whim.
"My powers were restored, as you know. But I am, in your human terms, on parole. My fellow members of the Q," he said, allowing more than a hint of irritation to show through, "are of the opinion that my quest for knowledge was accompanied by bullying tactics." "Really!" said Picard, voice dripping with sarcasm.
If Q noted it, he chose to give no sign. "Frankly, I think they're being unfair in their assessment. Humans did experiments on lab animals for far more pointless reasons than gaining cosmic knowledge. No one accused humans of being bullies for those actions." "Yes, they did," replied Picard, "and all such experiments were discontinued by the beginning of the twenty-first century. We humans are capable of recognizing inappropriate and brutish behavior and of acting to rectify it." "And I am not, is that what you're saying?" asked Q.
"Q, I'm floating in deep space, against my will, becoming angrier by the second. What does that tell you?" Q pondered it a moment. "That you have absolutely no sense of humor." "That you are a bully!" exploded Picard.
