In the Great Hall of the Q, one hundred Q stood at parade rest in front of Janeway Q, and waited, waited, and waited. No one dared say a word for they all knew their leader was ticked.
“Two weeks, three days, twenty-three hours and seventeen minutes after I gave the order to find, capture and return Q to me, and you still haven't found him?” she asked calmly.
The leader of this particular group chose to step forth and speak. Contrary to popular thought and belief, the Q were not exclusively Human. This one was a stern looking Vulcan who strongly resembled Spock's father, Sarek.
“We have initiated a multi-verse search grid which was partially successful in only discovering where he had been.” he replied.
“Oh? Where?” she asked, patiently.
“He made multiple trips to Pinnacle and Deep Space Ten.” he replied.
“Pinnacle. That is the main Nietzschean home world, isn't it?” she asked.
“Yes it is the official seat of Nietzschean government.” he replied.
Though the Nietzscheans inhabited many planets and world ships, if Teddy Roosevelt were a Nietzschean, he would've said of Pinnacle “The buck stops here.”
“So what recent and significant event would've happened on Pinnacle to attract Q's attention?” she wondered aloud. Not that she didn't already know. For Q was unfortunately attracted to certain important events like a crow was to shiny objects.
“The death of Viceroy Barbarossa Anasazi. It was made significant by the fact that in totally breaking with Nietzschean tradition, Barbarossa chose to pass his crown to his youngest son, Tyr instead of his oldest son, Agamemnon.” The Vulcan Q replied.
“BINGO!” she thought.
“Viceroy Tyr Anasazi also happens to be a highly decorated Star Fleet officer, is he not?” she asked.
“Affirmative, Q." the Vulcan Q replied.
“So Tyr Anasazi is either blessed or cursed with being both. Q enjoys sticking his foot out and tripping people like him.” she replied and stood. “We are going to Deep Space Ten.” she said in answer to the questioning looks on everyone's face.
“We?” the Vulcan Q queried, as he raised his right eyebrow in a typical Vulcan manner.
“My father always said, if you want something done right, you must either do it your self, or personally supervise the task . . . . . .” she replied, as she and all 100 Q blinked out of existence.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile Captain Dylan Hunt was having an in-depth conversation with Captain Sherra of the Dolgarian ship Sojourner. Currently Dylan was in a quandary because he was both extremely tired and did not know which end was up Sherra.
The Dolgarian Captain was a black Human sized Pule, who had long black dreadlocks hanging over her face and eyes. The only hint he was talking to her face, was her moving snout and the occasional flash of her white canine teeth, and pink tongue.
“I can't believe I'm talking to a giant dog who is has dreadlocks like Tyr. First, human sized talking cats, now this. What's next? Talking elephants? If I run into any of those, I'm handing in my papers. . . .” Dylan thought wearily to himself, as he barely suppressed a yawn. He thought had done a good job of covering it up, but. . . .
“Captain Hunt. When was the last time you slept?” Sherra asked.
“Ops!” Dylan thought.
“Uh . . . . .Uh. . . . . . Forgive me. . . .” Dylan fumbled.
“I understand the Rear Admiral is a very close and dear friend, however, you must rest, or you will not be of much use to anyone. Not to yourself or even The Admiral should find him. Take some down time, Captain and Divine willing we will speak tomorrow.” She admonished. Dylan blinked because he swore he saw one of her alert brown eyes gazing back at him in the video pickup.
“Alright Captain, we will continue this conversation tomorrow at this time.” Dylan replied.
“1300 hours. Aye.” Sherra replied as she signed off. Dylan immediately called Rommie into his Ready Room. The second she saw him, she ordered him off the bridge and to his quarters to rest.
“Hey, you can't do that! You're my XO!” Dylan protested.
“I can if I see that you are unfit for duty. Which is a lot better than what Trance would do. She'd haul you down to Sickbay and give you a sedative.” Rommie replied. “Captain, go get some sleep, I'll take care of things here. Remember, androids don't require sleep.” she continued.
With that Dylan left the bridge and headed to his quarters. Once there he only had enough strength to remove his boots before he stretched out on his bed and fell asleep fully clothed in his uniform.
* * * * * * * *
Back on Deep Space Ten, the Janeway Q and the rest of her compatriots showed up on the station in a random manner. Some were disguised as merchants, others as crew, still others as tourists.
However, she personally decided to disguise herself as a ten year old girl. Nancy Cox was a child genius who'd won The Intergalactic Tesla Award for inventing some scientific thing of a bob. One of her prizes was an all expense paid trip to and a tour of Deep Space Ten.
“Why a child?” the Vulcan Q had queried.
“No one fears a child because for the most part, they are innocent, and because of that, people tell children everything.” she replied, and smiled. “I wager after speaking to a few key people I will be able to track down Q faster than your entire team.” she challenged.
“But, Q we have been using these methods for the past hundred eons.” the Vulcan Q replied.
“Perhaps your methods of investigation need a serious update.” she said. “That is precisely why Q was able to spring the trap without being caught by the noose.” she continued.
The Vulcan Q did not bother to reply. Janeway knew he was displeased, but she couldn't help that. Obviously Q was not an amateur, but neither was she. . . . . .
“First things first. We go to meet Fleet Admiral HaxHis. I never met a Katay before but I've heard a lot about them.” Janeway said, as she skipped along side the tall, austere Vulcan male as they made their way across the Upper Promenade to the bank of lifts.
* * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile, Tyr and Tamara were spending quality “cuddle” time with each other. They had just gotten comfortable when
SQUEAK!
“What was that?” Tamara asked as they both jumped nearly a mile high off the bed like scalded cats.
“I don't know.” Tyr replied, as he grabbed the end of the duvet and shook it out, expecting to find one of his sons squeak toys in it. He then unsuccessfully searched the bed itself, to no avail.
“False alarm.” he said as he shrugged his shoulders and got back into bed. Tamara followed him and curled up into his arms. Back to business at hand. . . . . .
SQUEAK!
Both Nietzschean and Vulcan started again and stared at one another.
“It's you.” Tamara accused.
“Me? How the. . . . .” Tyr asked. In reply Tamara pressed the tip of his nose with her right forefinger and . . . . .
SQUEAK!
Tamara put both hands over her mouth as her green eyes became as wide as saucers. The look on Tyr's face was of utter stupefaction, then the realization dawned.
“Tamara. Do not laugh!” Tyr commanded.
“Your nose squeaks like a clowns nose and you expect me not to laugh?” Tamara thought through their marital link. She didn't exactly trust herself to speak at this particular time. . . . . . .
“I will beat you from port to starboard if you laugh.” Tyr threatened.
“Tyr Anazasi! I thought Nietzschean men did not beat their wives!” Tamara thought. Despite her best intentions she chuckled. She pulled away as he reached for her, and dashed across the room.
“There are always exceptions to that rule. . . .” Tyr replied and the chase was on.
* * * * * * *
In the meantime, Q was on the floor of the multi-verse rolling with hysterical laughter.
“You should've seen the look on your face when she pressed your nose, Mr. Neitzschean! What a hoot! I haven't had so much fun in ages!” Q said, as he applauded.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“I'd love to give him one up side the head.” Fatou thought sourly, as she stared up at the ceiling, through the many decks of The Insurrection, out into space at the exact spot where Q was hiding.
Q sensed Fatou's disapproving gaze. He looked back, gave her a raspberry, stuck his thumbs in his ears and twittled his fingers.
“Divine preserve us! Q is but a big child and Tyr is just his personal plaything!” Fatou thought in distress.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The mood was clearly broken so now the two love birds lay entwined in each other's arms. They'd both figured out, if they didn't touch Tyr's nose, they wouldn't have any problems.
“You do know that you have to go to Sickbay, right?” Tamara asked.
“I most certainly will not.” Tyr replied.
“Tyr!” Tamara exclaimed.
“And exactly what am I going to tell the Good Lady Doctor? That my nose squeaks like a child's toy? What remedy can she possibly recommend? I know no other except to find that low down filthy scum of a Q, who caused this mess in the first place and crush him like a rodent!” Tyr said. “I tell you what she's going to do. She's going to laugh her rear end off, just like the rest of the crew will do when they find out.” Tyr continued.
“I'm pretty sure she's not going to laugh at you, Tyr.” Tamara replied. At least she hoped and prayed Kori didn't. Klingons had the tendency to be unpredictable. . . . .
“That remains to be seen.” Tyr groused.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“This is so embarrassing.” Tyr thought to himself, and rolled his expressive brown eyes toward the ceiling. “I should've not only bet money Kori was going to laugh, but extra because she is howling too.” Tyr continued to think somberly.
You see, Klingons unlike Humans did not twitter, chuckle, chortle, or giggle. They roared with mirth, and since Kori was a typical Klingon she let it all hang out. Tamara wondered if the woman was going to howl at the moon next.
“So, what do you recommend?” Tyr asked as Dr. Kori calmed down.
“I have no recommendations except to not touch your nose.” Kori replied.
“Not touch my nose! That is impossible! I have to wash my face and blow it . . . . . .” Tyr started.
“Now you must find somewhere private if you need to do that. Oh and by the way, watch out for your sons. Once they find out your nose squeaks like that, they will never let you rest. Plus if the entire crew will find out. . . . .” she said, as she shook her head.
“And I will be the laughing stock of Starfleet. . . .” Tyr groused as he thought of Alexander's little reaching arms and grabby hands. Lysander was equally precocious. Kori was right, there was no rest for the weary.
“Thanks a lot Q! When I get my hands on you, you'll be deader than Elvis.” Tyr thought fiercely.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Oh my! I don't like that look on your face Mr. Nietzschean. Should I be afraid? Should I cringe in abject terror or should I laugh my butt off? I chose the latter! Oh, this is soooooo much fun!” Q said, as he dry washed his hands with glee, just like a mad scientist.
* * * * * * * * * *
Fatou narrowed her amber eyes. She was having her own private thoughts on what to do about Q, and they were not civil.
* * * * * * * * * *
Janeway Q had in the guise of Nancy Cox had just completed her tour with none other than the Station Commander, Fleet Admiral HaxHis. She and her compatriot Q were now all gathered in a safe corner of the multi-verse.
“Here is what I found out. Three and a half weeks ago, Admiral Anasazi was scheduled to lead a convoy of 12 relief ships to Avon Six. However, at the last second they were diverted due a distress signal which came from the Antares sector. They went to assist with Tyr's ship in the lead, however, The Insurrection and her crew simply disappeared.” she reported.
The other Q looked at one another with quizzical expressions. The unspoken question was "How the heck did she find all of that out?" Even though they were Q, there were some limits to what they could do especially when pitted against one of their own who had gone rogue. He was obviously using his limitless power to hide from them.
“HaxHis had the padd with the report on her desk, and I just happen to know how to read upside down.” Janeway replied, with a smile.
* * * * * * * * * *
There was no problem getting to the Antares sector, in fact it was a piece of cake. However, finding where Q had secreted himself was another story. At Janeway Q's orders the Q fanned out in pairs into as many directions as possible to begin an intense search.
* * * * * * * * * *
Q was in the middle of being up to no good as usual, when he froze in mid action.
“Oh shhhhhhhhhhhhh...............” he said. “I thought I put up enough shielding to protect and hide me from them!” he continued. He waved his right hand in Tyr's direction.
“I'll be back.” Q promised impersonating Arnold Schwarzenegger's “Terminator” charactor, then blinked out.
* * * * * * * * * *
Seconds later Fatou was heading towards the Bridge in a professional panic.
When the lift opened Tyr was sitting in the Central Seat reading and signing padds. He looked up, saw Fatou, and she gave him the signal that she wanted to speak to him and Captain McPhearson in private.
Once they were all situated, Tyr standing in his favorite place in front of the window, Tamara standing at parade rest, in front of Tyr's desk. Fatou spoke.
“I don't sense Q anymore.” she said simply.
“Oh? Why didn't you tell me you were capable of sensing him?” Tyr asked, raising both eyebrows in surprise.
“I didn't tell you because I considered my sensing his presence to be unreliable. I can only sense him when he uses his powers and I didn't want you to hang your hat on that, so to speak.” Fatou explained.
“Does this mean we will be able to go home?” Tyr asked.
“No, unfortunately it does not.” Fatou replied.
“Why not?” Tamara asked.
“Because I distinctly heard him say that he would be back. Then he blinked out.” Fatou replied. She tactfully left out Q's Arnold Swartzinagger impersonation. . . . . . .
“What cause him to leave in such a hurry?” Tyr wondered out loud.
“There are others here, now.” Fatou replied.
“Others? You mean other Q?” Tyr asked
“The Q Continuum consists of possibly hundreds of their kind. The majority of which are peaceful, co-exist with us, and occasionally help us out.” Tamara replied. "Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for the one we encountered." she continued.
“So, they obviously are hunting for their rogue compatriot.” Tyr stated.
“I guess in the meantime we have to cool our nacelles until they either find him or set things straight.” Tamara said. Referring to being released from the "bubble" Q had trapped The Insurrection and her crew in.
“Or rather until they find him and MAKE him set things straight. Divine only knows, he may have set things into motion which only he can undo.” Fatou said sagely. The small hairs on Tyr's neck stood on end. That was not a good sign.
“You mean I'm stuck with this for the duration?” Tyr asked as he touched his nose, expecting to hear a resounding squeak. But, there was only silence.
“Stuck with what?” Fatou asked innocently.
“Never mind.” Tyr covered. “In the meantime I must have a meeting with the Quartermaster and Lieutenant Torres of Hydrophonics. I don't know how long we will be stuck here and if necessary I may have to institute rationing of resources and provisions to the crew.” Tyr continued.
The Insurrection was an Akira class Star Ship and not considered a long range vessel like the old Constitution or the updated Enterprise class. So, if Tyr instituted the “Voyager Protocols (made standard practice by Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Voyager while in the Alpha Quadrant) his crew and family would be able to survive a long term mission if need be.
“The first order of the day is to reduce power to all non-essential areas.” Tyr said to Tamara. “Other orders will be forthcoming after my meetings have been concluded. Dismissed.” Tyr continued in command mode.
“Aye, sir.” Tamara responded, executed a textbook military right and left. Leaving Tyr and Fatou alone.
“Now, what was that about the possibility of Q setting something in motion only HE can undo?” Tyr asked of Fatou.
“I said what I meant, and I meant what I said.” she replied succinctly, leaving no doubt in the Nietzschean Admiral's mind.
Fatou's Spanish was rusty, but she was positive Tyr's response was nothing but swear words in that particular language. . . . . . .
* * * * * *
Meanwhile, in the 88 Lounge (The Insurrection's Mess Hall), Melissa and Dragon were sitting together at a private table. They had agreed to coordinate their meal breaks to meet, chat and chew.
Dragon was outfitted in his modified version of a Starfleet Security uniform. Melissa was dressed in Starfleet Hydroponics coveralls. He had taken liberty of ordering food and drink for both himself and Melissa.
“How is your Chai?” Dragon asked, as he watched her hesitantly sip from a steaming cup.
“It's positively delicious!” Melissa proclaimed and smiled, after taking her first ever sip and taste.
“I'm surprised you've never had Chai before. After all you've traveled so far and wide. . . . .” Dragon said.
“Dragon, you wouldn't believe the stories I have of people trying to poison me. That's why I have my team along.” Melissa replied.
The life of an intergalactic news correspondent was not all it was cracked up to be. When dealing with shady characters, one did not eat what they offered you, no matter how hungry you were, or how tasty it looked. T'Kell always brought along a supply of meal bars and water pacs just in case. . . .
Dragon glanced off for a second and espied the Vulcan couple on the far side of the room engaged in lively discussion with several officers from Cartography. He was not fooled by that rouse one bit. They were attuned as to his every move as he was of theirs.
“What kind of sandwich is this?” she asked, as she gazed at hers then watched Dragon pick up his.
“It is a CLT. Cheese, lettuce and tomato on toasted multi grain bread, with a hint of mayonnaise.” he replied.
“No bacon?” she asked. .
“Yuck. Bacon contains far too much nitrates and fat.” Dragon replied. She'd forgotten that Nietzscheans were consummate health nuts and were extremely picky about what they ate.
“You should eat yours before it gets cold.” he admonished. Melissa took a bite and agreed it didn't taste bad.
“Okay, here comes the five thousand bars of gold plated latinum question. Why is your name Dragon?” Melissa asked. They had both finished their meal and the dishes had been removed by a steward. Dragon smiled shyly, dropped his head and sighed. Melissa was immediately sorry she'd asked.
“There was a slight error when my parents filed my official birth documents with The Hall of Records. My father had named me Dragoon, but somewhere along the line an “o” was omitted. The error was not discovered until I entered primary school. My father was furious and could have changed it back, but my mother loved the name Dragon. Since we Nietzscheans have a Matriarchal society and whatever the lady of the house says, goes, thus Dragon it stayed.” Dragon explained.
“Dragoon?? That's either a light infantry or a pirate ship isn't it?” Melissa asked.
“My father is an ardent fan of old Earth military history, and that's how he chose my name. It is a light infantry, where the soldiers originally rode horseback and carried light weaponry so they could move quickly.” he replied.
“So, how do you feel about your name now?” she asked, in full interview mode though she didn't intend for it to be so.
“I have no problem with it because I've been told on numerous occasions that I am as fierce as my namesake.” Dragon replied and smiled.
At that particular time, Dragon didn't look fierce. However, the man was second in command of Security on Tyr Anazasi's ship. That alone was no mean feat.
“So I'd say you were appropriately named.” Melissa replied.
“Yes, my father knows that now.” Dragon said as he smiled.
Melissa had so many other questions to ask but realized their meal break was almost over.
“Would you like to share dinner with me later?” Dragon asked. “That way you can ask all of the questions you want and I can ask some of my own.” he continued.
“I don't see why not.” she replied.
“How about back here at 1900 hours?” he asked.
“Excellent. I'll be here.” Melissa said as she rose to go. She didn't have to look for T'Kell and Skorr, because they were already approaching.
She waved as she left the 88 Lounge, and it was back to work for her.
“Ah! Isn't it great when love is in the air?” Ensign Palmer asked her fellow crew member Ensign Chee as they bussed The 88 Lounge's tables.
“Yeah. Those two will not be able to keep their minds on work for the rest of the afternoon and evening.” Chee replied.
“Oh the horror of it all!” Palmer replied as she playfully poked her friend in the ribs.
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