by Ron Richard
(Standard disclaimer: Paramount owns all rights and allows us to play in their world.)
Part 3 of 3
A minor course change and two days travel at last brought Enterprise into visual range. Both ships disengaged their warp drives within a second of each other. Mistral was dwarfed by the huge starship. Jean-Luc applied the thrusters and brought the sloop into a wide, sweeping turn around Enterprise's port side, heading for her stern. The com system activated and Captain Thorpe's voice emitted from the speakers. The message was directed at all crewmembers of both ships.
"All hands, prepare to render honors to port."
As Mistral slowly passed by, Jean-Luc and Beverly looked with fondness at the familiar ship. Here and there they noted small changes that had apparently taken place over the last eight plus years. There was a repair patch on the nacelle pylon and a different configuration to the deflector array.
The sound of a Bosun's whistle emitted from the com system, followed by Captain Thorpe's voice again.
"Salute."
There was movement at a few points on the starship's hull as the weapons ports began to open. Twenty-one times, brilliant spears of red burst from Enterprise's phaser banks to detonate spectacularly in space.
"Two."
A bluish glow emanated from the main hangar deck. Jean-Luc and Beverly felt the slightest of motion.
"Mistral, this is Enterprise docking control, tractor engaged. Enjoy the ride and welcome aboard."
* * * * * * * * *
"Our relationship?"
Mistral was quite damaged enough. She certainly did not need two Human jawbones to simultaneously impact the deck plates, but that was the result of Q's statement.
Jean-Luc was in no mood. His ship was mortally wounded and they had come close to dying with her.
"Are all the members of the Q Continuum so disregarding of life? Are you responsible for this ion storm?"
"I'm going to have to give you a big 'NO' for both of those. Thank you for playing Ambassador, but we're going to shift the questioning over to our other contestant, now. Captain Crusher, you have ten seconds to answer the following: If you had your choice of any or all primates at your disposal, which ones would you copulate with?"
Both Jean-Luc and Beverly turned a shade of scarlet that a Kiyaadi would have been proud of. The verbal tirade began but halted immediately with the sudden sense of It.
They both felt Its satisfaction; Its control. A dozen maelstroms of death appeared all around the broken ship. They knew they were about to die. The smoky interior of the cockpit lit brightly as the deadly energies converged onto them . . . only to be immediately halted a mere ten meters away by a familiar grid of multi-colored energy. The massive bolts thundered and roared against the Q-created sphere which had encased the crippled Mistral.
Q calmly spoke, "I don't know about you, but I can't hear myself think." A bright flash with reality-changing properties filled the Humans' senses. A moment later, the view outside of the furious storm was replaced with a peaceful star field. When they turned around in their seats, they saw that the view inside was much friendlier, also. There was no more massive hull breach, nor even a conduit out of place for that matter. All was shipshape and Bristol fashion. Even the railings sparkled.
Before either of the Humans could react, Q handed a small coffee mug to a stunned Beverly. "Here you are, my dear; with my compliments."
She peered into it and saw a tiny, swirling cloud of mist and light in the bottom. Tiny sparks flashed and popped like carbonation.
Beverly walked right into it, "What's this?"
Q smirked, "Why, your very own tempest in a teacup. HA, HA HAAA!!! Okay, all right, I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it. It's all so very easy, you know."
Furiously, Beverly slammed down the cup on the console. The miniature storm inside fussed and fumed in protest.
"Careful Captain. That is a sentient life form after all. Isn't your species supposed to care about that for some reason?"
Jean-Luc hated owing his life to a Q, but he couldn't help being relieved at the state of his ship. He rose from the pilot's seat and stood before their rescuer.
"Q, obviously you saved us from that ion storm . . . and repaired our damage . . . and we're grateful . . ."
"But what do I want?" The look on both their faces gave Q a large affirmative. "All right, you're correct. I do want your help with something. Let me explain. After many millennia . . . on the Continuum's time frame, of course, I have been on what you might call . . . guarded supervision. My father was given the task of, well he calls it 'guiding my education.' Personally I always thought of it as eternal chaperoning, seeing as I can't even so much as step into the next galaxy without someone from the Continuum looking over my shoulder, but no matter. What's important is that I am now nearly ready to graduate from all that training and apprenticing. Part of my graduate's thesis, if you will, is to present a case study of a corporeal matter of importance. I have to research, experiment and demonstrate a complete understanding of some trivial piece of mortal tripe that earthworms such as yourselves seem to think has some relevance. Since it�s foremost in the minds, and I use the term loosely, of most corporeal life, I�ve chosen the simple, biological function known as sex.�
Both Jean-Luc and Beverly both unconsciously looked at each other at this remark.
�Ah-hah, good. I thought this would be a fun topic.�
Beverly shook her head in annoyance, "And that's why you saved us from the storm?"
Q wrinkled his nose, "No, I just cut in line in front of It. Don't worry, It can always track you down and pulverize you some other time. My business is more important."
Beverly lost her patience first, "What is it with you 'Q's'? Do you all think you can just do as you please with other life forms?"
Q shrugged, "Well, yes, actually. It has to do with being the most powerful and advanced intelligence in the universe. It's the omnipotence thing. But enough about me. We're here to discuss the sexual relationship the two of you are in."
Both Human mouths opened to protest, but found no ability to produce Human speech.
"Now, now, no interrupting. Let's get to it, shall we? You two have been a couple for a number of your years now."
Q sidled up to Jean-Luc and elbowed him in the ribs and indicated Beverly, "Ambassador let me start by saying that you appear to have excellent taste, at least as far as looks, anyway. Father told me Crusher was a bit of a shrew, but I won't prejudge."
Q moved to Beverly and gave her a once-over. "Yes, not perfect, but nothing a slight makeover wouldn't cure. What is that potato sack you're wearing?"
With a snap of Q's fingers, the everyday lounging dress Beverly wore was replaced with a filmy, extremely insubstantial, black nightgown. Tiny straps supported a wide neckline that plunged to Beverly's navel, exposing a near-fatal amount of cleavage. Ninety-nine percent of her shapely legs were also bared for inspection. The extremely short hemline of the gown (and the sudden draft) made Beverly realize that underwear had not been included in the ensemble.
Q checked his handiwork, "Yes, yes, not bad at all. Not for an old broad, anyway. Actually, this is more to my taste."
Another snap of his fingers brought a curious sensation to Beverly. Her body was tingling and twitching all over. Jean-Luc's perspective showed him what was happening. The color of her hair was darkening and the length was increasing until a great, red mass reached past her waist. The small lines around her mouth and eyes began to disappear and her face became chubbier. Tiny freckles started appearing on her nose and cheeks. Her body shifted and quivered beneath the thin material of the nighty as changes were taking place. Beverly's frame shrunk slightly as her hips and butt reshaped themselves. Her smallish breasts, now endowed with life of their own, proudly hoisted themselves up and forward to jut out defiantly, challenging the integrity of the flimsy straps. When the transformation was complete, what stood before Jean-Luc was not the professional, sophisticated Starfleet officer that he had fallen in love with, but rather a slip of a girl; no more than fourteen or fifteen at the most, wearing an extremely revealing bit of nothing.
Little Bev was attempting to gather as much of her skimpy attire together as she could, but with not much success. Jean-Luc tried again to object, but still had no voice. He strode up and got nose to nose with Q while pointing to his mouth and shooting daggers with his eyes.
"Oh very well. Just try to keep the chatter to a minimum and I'll get through this ordeal just fine."
Q restored their voices with a snap. Beverly's was considerably higher and more nasal.
"Q . . ." The obscenity that quivered on Beverly's tongue was swallowed back as she deliberately tried to calm herself. "All right, Q . . . all right, please let's just get this over with. Do whatever it is you're going to do."
Jean-Luc jumped in, "NO! Absolutely not! We will not cooperate!
Q ignored him, "But you misunderstand, Missy Captain. It's not what I'm going to do; it's what you're going to do. "
* * * * * * * * *
It was furious about Its failure. It would not forget. That which had escaped would be punished. It would never stop searching. Time meant nothing to It. It examined the senses It had gathered to find the best manner for Its vengeance.
* * * * * * * * *
"What sort of depraved game are you playing, Q?"
"My dear Ambassador, this is an examination of Human sexuality, specifically yours. If there's any depravity going on here, it all comes from the two of you.
Q turned to the scantily clad, teen-age Beverly and ogled her, "Boy, if I were Human again . . . no, no, I mustn't taint the results. Now to business. Missy Captain, this is how you appeared when you experienced your first sexual encounter."
As an aside to Jean-Luc, Q added, "Didn't waste any time, did she?" He turned back to Beverly, "And surely you remember this gentleman."
"Hello, Bev.
A Human male of about thirty was suddenly standing amongst them in the ship. He was dressed in somewhat worn civilian clothes, a bit on the old-fashioned side. There was nothing threatening or unusual about him in any way, with the possible exception of his coal black hair and icy blue eyes.
Jean-Luc started to ask, "Who . . . ?"
His question remained unanswered. Q, who was suddenly dressed in a white lab coat and sporting thick glasses, was seemingly preoccupied while hastily scribbling on a clipboard.
Blue Eyes spoke, "It's good to see you again, especially this much of you. I've thought about you often over the last fifty years. I think it's time we finish what we started."
The man approached Beverly, whose eyes suddenly widened in recognition.
"Anton!"
Jean-Luc recognized two things. The first was the name, which, as he had learned years ago on Kesprytt, was an important one in Beverly's history. The second was the hungry tone in Beverly's voice.
* * * * * * * * *
Mistral was computing a minor automatic course adjustment to intercept Enterprise, which was still a couple of hours distant, when she noticed something familiar.
"Warning, automatic sensor sweep has detected recorded phenomenon three-eight-three-four."
Alarm lit Jean-Luc�s and Beverly�s faces. It had been more than two years since Mistral had encountered and barely escaped the sentient ion storm. "Computer, position?"
"Bearing zero, zero, zero, mark zero. Distance, zero point four seven light years."
Jean-Luc did the simple astrogation, "My God . . . Enterprise . . ."
Beverly realized it, too. "It's emerging from subspace . . . right at their position!"
"We've got to warn them! Computer, open an emergency channel to Enterprise!"
"Channel open."
"Enterprise, this is Mistral . . . Change course immediately! There is . . ."
"Too late."
Beverly's face was ashen from what she was reading from the sensor display. She activated a monitor, �We�re in visual range.�
Mistral�s screen showed the horrified Humans every gruesome detail of the death of their former ship. The malevolent entity they had come to know simply as The Storm pounced from subspace upon the unsuspecting Enterprise, immediately and unmercifully pounding the mighty starship with bolt after bolt of carefully directed, searing energy.
She made a valiant effort. Her helm officer maneuvered brilliantly, but the huge starship was too sluggish at the sublight speeds forced upon her within the cloud. Her shields were no match for the multiple strikes. The vicious plasma energy ripped through the body of the ship, severing the nacelle pylons and the engineering decks. More strikes impacted from all vectors, literally tearing Enterprise limb from limb.
Jean-Luc and Beverly knew. They knew this was for their benefit. They could feel It�s focus on them at the same time it was killing Enterprise. They felt what It felt . . . spite. The Storm wanted them to know . . . to witness. It wanted to take from them that which was most important to them. When it was done, they felt Its satisfaction.
* * * * * * * * *
Beverly�s glance moved from the young, handsome Anton and back to Jean-Luc. Her expression changed quite obviously from sexual excitement to fearful embarrassment. The rosy hue creeping into her prominent cheekbones accented her adolescent freckles.
�Uh . . . I don�t . . . I mean . . . Jean-Luc this is . . . what am I saying? Q! This can�t be who it looks like. He would be ...�
�Old? I thought you rather liked that. In fact, he�s not as old as your current squeeze. Not many beings are, outside the Q Continuum.�
Q readjusted the Coke-bottle glasses on his nose and turned back to whatever he seemed to be recording on the clipboard. The point of the ancient wooden pencil he was using snapped off as he resumed writing.
�Ach! Damn! Would you please stop distracting me and just . . . react to the situation, if you would? I�m trying to finish this.�
Jean-Luc pressed, �Q, what is it you are doing there? Why the meaningless pencil and paper? We both know the Q are far beyond that.�
The Continuum Being looked over his glasses at the Human. �Have you learned nothing? My physical appearance is as it always is, just a convenience for you, a way for your microbial brain to interpret what is happening. Is that still too complicated? Would you like subtitles . . . or maybe finger puppets? Or maybe you should direct your attention to where it�s really needed.�
A teenage moan of pleasure turned Jean-Luc�s head away from Q. Beverly had her back against the bulkhead and her arms over her head, grasping an overhead conduit. Her friend Anton was busy nuzzling her neck, while his left hand was stealing up her inner thigh, gaining altitude. Her hips began little anticipatory thrusts as his fingers . . .�
�BEVERLY!�
The bucket of ice water known as Jean-Luc�s voice brought Beverly back to the proper decade. She wormed her way out of Anton�s grasp and once again tried to adjust the barely concealing nightgown Q had provided.
�Yes, yes, interesting.�
Q had apparently finished his entries and was now tabulating some results. He made a final note and turned to the other Human.
�Your turn.�
�Jean-Luc! It�s so good to see you!�
Before the Ambassador could place the familiar voice behind him, he was spun around and found himself suddenly dealing with a tongue swirling sensuously around in his mouth. This too was very familiar, and very welcome. The feel of the palm stroking his crotch also was not to be scoffed at. The tongue withdrew itself and the brunette head it had come from began lowering itself down to waist height. The palm had turned into fingers and begun to undo his pants. The head looked up at him, licking her lips.
�Vash!�
* * * * * * * * *
It was done. That which had escaped has paid. Now it suffers. Leave it in its pain.
* * * * * * * * *
Vash didn�t care much for Beverly trying to pull her up onto her feet, but Beverly managed to duck the swing. Jean-Luc was just considering intervening with Anton�s attempts to stroke Beverly�s magnificently exposed ass, when an authoritative voice drew his attention.
�Picard! Just what is going on here?�
He turned and beheld a stern looking man in a Starfleet uniform.
�Admiral Kasim?� Jean-Luc�s confusion threshold was reaching critical mass.
�One side, Picard. I�m here to see Doctor Crusher. We have some . . . scenarios to discuss.� With that, the Admiral strode past the Ambassador and headed for the now, fully dressed, once again in her sixties, but still stunning, Captain Crusher.
Jean-Luc started to follow, but was halted by the sight of Phillipa Louvois unbuttoning her blouse.
* * * * * * * * *
Mistral drifted through the debris, her scanners sniffing every shard, desperately looking for a trace of life. It was useless. Enterprise had been totally pulverized. Here and there, grisly remnants of the crew floated throughout the shattered debris cloud. A partial torso, trailing frozen entrails tumbled past the numbed stares of Jean-Luc and Beverly. A bit of yellow fluttered from the shredded Starfleet uniform, indicating an Engineering crewmember. As the head and left arm were missing, a visual identification was impossible. Beverly checked her bioscanners for the twelfth time � NO LIFE SIGNS.
* * * * * * * * *
Chaos ruled the interior of Mistral.
Neela Daren was tightening the choke hold she had on Jenice Manheim, but it was broken by the impact of Jack Crusher and Ronin, who had tumbled into them during their knockdown, drag-out fist fight.
Meanwhile, a twenty-year old Jean-Luc had sprouted hair and was on the bottom of a battling pile of women consisting of Marta Batanides, Penny Murock, Angelina Frecoult and several other young girls who didn�t seem to have names. Their common goal seemed to be to damage each other and to give aid and comfort to Jean-Luc, who participated whole-heartedly.
Beverly had business of her own in the corner with those two brothers and . . . �what was his name, anyway?�
Q sat quietly, busily documenting the entire procedure.
* * * * * * * * *
The cabin designated as The Admiralty Suite was as familiar to Jean-Luc and Beverly as the rest of Enterprise. It was in this very room that Captain Picard had beaten Potentate Zarendi at Strategema, allowing the Hrami Peace Accords to move forward. Unknown to Jean-Luc, it was also the room where Vice-Admiral Kasim and Doctor Crusher had hammered together a one-night treaty of their own after a reception victualled with Romulan ale.
Jean-Luc had already cleaned up. Beverly was now emerging from the bedroom, putting the final touches on her outfit.
"I haven't worn my dress uniform in a few years. I forgot just how complicated these things are."
"It even still fits." Jean-Luc appreciatively appraised his partner. "Frankly I'm surprised they haven't changed the style three or four times since we left." He smirked, "Don't forget that row of clasps on the shoulder."
Sarcastically, Beverly replied, "Yes, thank you, I won't forget. You think you're pretty smart, don't you; sitting there in your comfortable civilian clothes?"
Jean-Luc corrected, "My formal civilian clothes. We civilians have to dress up as well, you know, just like you military types."
The two partners stood facing each other, grasping each other's hands.
"Well, Captain Crusher, I think it's nearly time."
"Yes, Ambassador Picard, it is. Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"I can honestly say, 'I don't know.' This is something beyond my experience. I've never done this before."
"Don't worry, I have."
* * * * * * * * *
Jean-Luc awoke in a fog. He had been there before, so there wasn�t much to be concerned about. Perhaps awoke wasn�t the right word. He hadn�t been asleep. Let�s just say, when he emerged from whatever state he had been in, he was slightly disappointed. Wherever it was that he had just been was a pleasant place.
But now that he looked around, he realized where he was now was also a pleasant place. Stars moving past at warp greeted him from the windows of Mistral�s cockpit. His hands were happily gripping the manual steering column. His eyes swept over the familiar readouts, which indicated all systems nominal and the ship on course. There was a feeling of warmth in his belly, a kind of deep satisfaction, as though he had just finished . . .
He turned his smiling face to the right to take in more of this delicious universe and locked eyes with Beverly, who was sitting in the other seat. Immediately, both pairs of eyes went wide and both faces went red with embarrassment. As they stared at each other, neither one could muster any intelligible speech with the exception of one word, which they shouted together.
�Q?�
They both rose from their seats and went back into the interior of Mistral, which was back to its usual immaculate, empty self. There was no sign of any past lovers or any seeming side effects from their strange experience. After searching the lower decks, which were in perfect order, Jean-Luc and Beverly finally ascended to the Star Deck.
Now this was different. The table, elegantly laid out with two place settings, was filled with a scrumptious variety of gourmet foods, all of which Jean-Luc and Beverly had sampled in their years traveling the Galaxy. Surely it was not a coincidence that every dish here was one of their favorites. An opened, breathing bottle of Chateau Picard �43 sat patiently waiting. Beverly reached to the center of the table and picked up an engraved card that sat on a saucer.
�Q and Q are pleased to announce the Commencement Ceremonies of their Son, Q. You are hereto invited to celebrate his maturation and attend the graduation ceremonies to be held in the Grand Salon of the Q Continuum.�
Beverly turned the card over. �There�s something more penciled on the back.�
�Thanks for the help with my homework, you two. Enjoy the meal (and each other, since my research indicates that�s what you prefer) � Q�
Jean-Luc and Beverly looked into each other�s eyes, which were starting to show signs of embarrassment again.
�Look, Beverly. This was a strange experience and . . . maybe it�s just best that . . .�
�That . . . we don�t say much about it?�
Jean-Luc gulped, �I think . . . yes. Yes, that�s probably a good idea.�
�I agree. We should just . . . move on.�
�We should leave the past where it is.�
Beverly nodded, �Agreed.�
�Agreed . . . but Beverly . . . Admiral Kasim?�
* * * * * * * * *
The last time that Jean-Luc had been in the Enterprise Ward Room was when he had relinquished command to Captain Thorpe. Now, more than eight years later, he mused on all the life-changing formalities that had been initiated in this cabin.
Thorpe stood at a podium and addressed the crowded room, "Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all ship Masters have had one happy privilege, that of uniting two people in the bonds of matrimony. And so, we are gathered here today with you, Beverly Howard Crusher and you, Jean-Luc Picard in the sight of your fellows, in accordance with our laws and our many beliefs . . ."
Beverly whispered, "Let's see them separate us, now."
* * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
How is your research coming, Daughter?
Finished, Mater. Would you like to review the results?
Certainly. I assume you used Basic Scientific Method?
Of course, Mater, just as you specified;
Observe, Question, Hypothesize, Experiment, Explain.
What have you learned?
The instinct of fear in many variations seems to be present in all forms of material existence. In most cases, fear is used as an escape mechanism, a natural reaction to avoid danger.
Interesting, I see you used a variety of media on your culture.
Yes, Mater. Temporal divergence is a useful tool to verify results.
Indeed. But you must use care. The plasma medium was a good test, but be careful with your manipulations. You left a bit of temporal raveling in places. Q Continuum Beings might just detect them and taint the results.
I factored that in, Mater. Those beings have no more awareness of higher life than the test culture does. In fact, in one case, I even used a Q Continuum Being intentionally as a catalyst.
Excellent. Did that help your evaluation?
I actually discarded that test as unreliable, but the results were interesting, nonetheless.
Your conclusion?
Fear is simply an instinctual reaction to certain stimuli, no different than any predictable chemical or energy process.
I am pleased, my daughter. Well done.