Without Missing a Q
     Emily Tarrant pulled her horse up and stopped to glance
behind her.  She waited until the white horse and the man on it
halted beside her, before flicking her satin veil back over her
shoulder and grinning. "I beat you honestly that time, Q!"
     The man on the white horse laughed, his dark eyes twinkling.
He was dressed in tenth-century clothing: a doublet and long-
sleeved shirt, tights and boots, and a sword belted around his
waist.  A satin hat of dark blue perched on top of his dark hair,
the feather dancing in the manufactured breeze.  The entire
scene, had been manufactured by Q.
     "I admit it!"  He bowed mockingly from his horse, managing
somehow not to fall off.  "Omnipotent or not, you've bettered
me."  He grinned, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. "Are
you enjoying it so far?"  He drew one leg up so that his knee
rested across the pommel of his saddle.
     "It's wonderful!"  Tarrant's dark-copper hair was hidden
under the veil, but a few errant strands kept escaping, despite
her ministrations.  "I can't believe how real it all seems!"
     "Seems?"  Q laughed. "It is real--well, as real as your so-
called human existence gets."
     Tarrant's lips tightened. "There you go again.  I wish you
wouldn't act that way!"
     "I can't help it--it's natural for me to condescend to
humans...they're so naturally lowly, so far beneath me...."
     "You can go so long without doing...that, and then you go
all lofty and superior on me!"  She sighed in exasperation.  "I'm
not going to continue to entertain these fantasies of yours if
you insist on acting like a perfect cad!"  She glared at him
across her horse.
     Q reached across the short space separating them and took
her hand in both of his. His long-fingered hands were tightly-
bound in leather riding gloves.  The leg that rested across his
saddle was lean and muscular. His physical charms were not lost
on Tarrant, who secretly thought him handsome and dashing, but
wouldn't risk inflating his already-huge ego with this
information.  "I forget your mortality--you're not like other
humans...sometimes I think you're nearly like me."  He bent and
kissed her hand, a gallant gesture.
     "Is that supposed to be some sort of backhanded compliment?"
Tarrant arched an eyebrow at him, a nearly-Vulcan gesture.
     "A compliment," Q acceded.  "Backhanded or not."
     "You're so human when you're like this."
     "Don't insult me!"  Q tossed her hand back at her, his
formidible temper surging just under the surface of his civility.
His mouth was a mocking twist.
     "I'm not insulting you."  Tarrant took his hand, held it as
he had done hers. "You just seem so real."  She squeezed his
hand.  "I can feel your fingers in mine--" Her hand lingered
gently on his knee, felt the warmth of his skin underneath the
medieval tights,  "--your skin and bones--" She looked up, into
his dark eyes, "--I can talk to you, hear you talk to me--" One
of her hands went to the centre of his chest, her palm resting
there, against his satin doublet, "--I can even feel your
heartbeat--"  Her hand dropped to her side, a little frustrated.
"Yet I know you aren't anything even approaching humanoid--truth
be told, I don't know what you are."
     "An omnipotent being with the powers of a god," Q said.
     "You fool me into nearly believing...." Tarrant broke off,
suddenly became absorbed with her veil.
     "I make you believe what?"  He bent to look into her face.
Like Q, Tarrant was clad in tenth-century garb, to move about in
the medieval, Robin Hood scenario that Q had created.  She sat
side-saddle on a palomino, her silken skirts falling demurely
around her ankles.  She looked lovely, and Q, although not human,
was very aware of her beauty.
     "That you could be capable of...affection."  Tarrant raised
her head and looked at him, one small hand touching his cheek.
It felt smooth, slightly scratchy at the beard-line, as a human
male's might.
     "You keep touching me," Q said, quietly.  His dark eyes were
intense, dangerous.  "You find me...provocative...."  His face
registered something very like surprise.
     Tarrant nodded. "I do."  She gave her horse's reins a quick
yank, rode on ahead of him.


     Tarrant's quarters were quiet when she got back from her
outing with Q.  He had disappeared back into the confines of his
Continuum.  Tarrant slipped out of her medieval outfit and into
an old, comfortable robe.  She was tired, and something else--she
wasn't sure what, but it was making her uneasy.
     Q was correct, she realised; she did find him provocative--
extremely provocative, on many levels.  She was attracted to him
physically, but that could just be because of his inherent
otherness, his alienness.  She was also afraid of him, of his
vast intellect, his unknown powers, his unique cosmic view.  But
there was more:  she knew could be a capricious and dangerous
being, and could literally snuff her out with no more than a
passing thought.  He was such a paradox!  He could be so
intensely dangerous, so shockingly amoral, then turn completely
and be charming and funny and kind...!  He excited her, she
realised...that was what was making her so uncomfortable.
     She sighed, remembering the feel of his cheek under her
hand.  He'd looked so damn good, too, in that medieval outfit.
Too bad that he was so far out of her realm, out of her reach....
     "I heard that thought." Q flashed in through the wall
without a sound.  He produced by some mysterious means a white
rose, passed it to Tarrant. "I know you're afraid of me, Emily."
     Tarrant grinned in spite of herself.  "Are you eavesdropping
on me?"  She accepted the rose, gazing at him for a long moment,
taking in his height, the lines of his face, his posture.  He
merely watched as she scrutinized him, and then his face broke
into a spontaneous smile.
     "You are afraid of me, aren't you?"  He came towards her,
feet soundless on the rug.  "Do you believe that I would harm
you?" At her silent nod, he continued. "Why?  Do you remember on
Dronogar Seven, at the New Moon Ball?  We danced and drank
neisroi and you kissed me at moonset under the double arches of
the dance floor..."
     "Yes."  Tarrant found it hard to speak, remembering that
night on Dronogar Seven, dancing with Q until all hours, at the
glorious New Moon Ball when the gentle, intelligent Dronogans
called in their new moon cycle with an evening of dancing,
feasting, and romance.  And she did remember kissing him,
standing under the ballroom arches, tipsy on neisroi at moonset.
She remembered standing on tiptoe and brazenly pulling him close
to her, tasting the intoxicating wine of his lips against hers.
It had gone no further than a kiss, because some other Qs from
the Continuum had arrived, and the party got a little out of
hand, but still.... She vividly remembered his surprise when
she'd seized him and pressed her mouth to his, and then how he
responded to it, embracing her and holding her tightly to him as
the kiss deepened, washing them both with exquisite ripples of
unexplored desire.  She had pulled away from him for a moment,
staring into his dark eyes, before going again into his arms,
wrapping their bodies together as the festivities went on around
them.  She remembered that she would have willingly climbed into
Q's soul that night....
     "I would never hurt you."  Q tilted her face up to look at
him.
     "You could so easily destroy me--I'm scared that you could
hurt me--you're so powerful!"  She stopped talking as Q kissed
her gently on the mouth, his fingertips barely touching her skin.
Her eyelids slid shut as he deepened the kiss, and Tarrant's
arms, remembering the feel of his body, went around him.  His
warm mouth slid caressingly over hers, his fingertips catching
her gleaming hair.
     "Please don't be afraid of me," Q whispered.  For once, his
silky voice wasn't mocking or tormenting.  His dark eyes drew a
soft gaze over her as his hand stroked her hair.  He was wearing
a Starfleet uniform, the same wine-and-black captain's uniform
that he habitually affected for his appearences on board the
Enterprise, and Tarrant reached up to unseal it. "I could vanish
that for you," Q offered.
     "No," Tarrant shook her head.  "Let me undress you myself."
She wanted to see his warm, naked skin revealed to her a little
at a time, and she wanted to savour the significance of doing it
herself.  She slid his uniform jacket off his shoulders and
rubbed her palms along his skin, breathing in his subtle,
pleasant fragrance.  Her hands slipped easily over the bare skin
of his back and shoulders as she lifted her face for his kiss.
She sighed as Q eased the robe off her shoulders, clutched him
closer as he bent and put burning lips to the side of her neck,
his tongue tracing a pattern there.  Tarrant slid her fingers
through his thick, dark hair as his lips closed around one of her
nipples, and the slow, hot fire began between her thighs.
     This was what she had felt that night on Dronogar Seven,
standing oblivious to the rest of the dance hall, kissing Q under
the double arched doorway.  She felt her knees buckling now as
they had then, and her limbs turn nearly liquid as the desire for
him raced madly through her veins.  She was gently lowered to the
bed as Q, suddenly nude by some mysterious means, lay next to
her, turning her face gently to his, kissing her again.  "I want
you to trust me,"  he whispered, holding her face in his hands as
if she were very dear to him.  "Do you trust me?"
     "What are you going to do?"  Tarrant ran her hands over his
shoulders, down his body to his flat belly.  He was gorgeous:
sleek and muscular, with impossibly silky skin and an elusive
scent that teased and tickled her.
     "I am going to take you where no human has ever gone."  He
traced her cheek with his fingers. "You must trust me completely.
Allow me to pleasure you--I give you my solemn word that I won't
hurt you."
     She didn't remember giving her consent, but she must have,
for suddenly they were as close as two people could ever be, his
hot, aroused body buried deeply in hers, and she was flooded with
an intense pleasure, a wave of heat encasing her.  Q's long legs
were entwined with hers, and she felt him moving within her, but
it was much more than that.  Disbelieving, she was slipping
between dimensions, floating and falling on waves of pure
delight, unsullied ecstasy, as Q took her to places of unknown
pleasure.  She held him tightly, fearing that if she lost her
hold on him, all that she experienced would vanish, and none of
it would ever be as real as this again....
     There was a sharp, intense spike of heady pleasure, her
fingers tracing his spine, his mouth again on hers.  She caught a
glimpse of him at that moment, his features transformed by
absolute pleasure, as satisfied as she had ever seen him.
     Then he was leading her into it, as the experience reached
full height and she exploded in a series of shudders, caught
safely in Q's arms.
     "I can't believe--"  She was cut off in midsentence, kissed
tenderly.  "How did you do that?"  She stretched lazily beneath
him, amused to discover that his weight didn't squash her as a
normal mortal's might.
     "There are certain benefits to being omnipotent," he offered
as way of explanation.
     "You enjoyed that."  She watched his face, waiting for his
grin to betray him.  She loved the way his face, sometimes almost
bordering on sinister, was so transformed by his smile.
     "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."  He changed position so
that she was lying against him, her head on his chest. "So tell
me--have you ever had a god before?!"

                              THE END


Quantum Q                                           May 28, 1994

     Emily Tarrant turned over in her bed and wished she could go
to sleep.  It had been a long day, she ought to be tired enough.
Still, there was a nagging insomnia pulling at her, something
beckoning that there were other things to be doing, other
interests to pursue.  She just wanted to sleep.
     It had been bad enough being stuck all morning rerouting
circuit pathways on one of the shuttlecraft. She would have
though that might have filled the boredom quota for the day.
Then, after lunch, Counselor Troi had cornered her in Ten-
Foreward and demanded that she come right then to the Psych lab
for her quarterly testing. Long overdue, Troi had said, pulling
her insistently along the corridor.  Better to get it done and
over with.  So she'd whiled the rest of the day away in the Psych
lab looking at holograms and indicating if she was (a) mildly
happy, (b) moderately happy, or (c) markedly happy.  It had been
a colossal waste of time.  And after spending a fretful evening
in her quarters trying to read a holo-book, placating herself
with warm milk and boozy jazz tunes, she had given up in disgust
and gone early to bed.  Most of her friends (the techie ones, she
thought sourly) had gone to an Engineering convention on Rigel,
and the bulk of her colleagues from Exobiology were at some
seminar somewhere.  There was nobody she could talk to, nobody to
go to the holodeck with...she'd run into Commander Data in one of
the corridors, but it was too awkward:  both of them,
unfortunately, remembered only too well their attempts at a
relationship, and how badly it had ended.  She had muttered a
quick greeting and bolted.
     So now she was utterly bored, and her bed seemed to be
getting harder and harder, her pillow turning into cement.   No
matter which way she turned, she became more and more
uncomfortable.  Finally, she sat up in frustration. "God damn
it!"
     "Tut, tut, my dear!"  A sensuous male voice slid out of the
wall and coiled around her.  "Blasphemy!  Just because you're a
little bored...."
     Tarrant watched as Q followed his voice into her quarters,
gazing in dismay as he seemed to coalesce out of the bulkhead,
forming his normal appearence in front of her.
     "What's the matter?  No excitement in Chez Picard?"  Q
grinned at her, sitting on the end of her bed.
     "Q!"  Tarrant frowned. She wondered what he wanted, wondered
if she wanted him to stay or leave.  Q had visited her before,
this wasn't the first time.  And his visits were always
stimulating, in many ways.  The only trouble was, Tarrant wasn't
sure if it was good protocol to be running around the galaxy with
an omnipotent being who got a kick out of needling Starfleet.
"What are you doing here?"  She watched as one of his hands rose
to shoulder height, a bright red apple appearing in his palm.
The apple hadn't been there before.
     "I heard you complaining--decided to see what I could do."
He bit into the apple with a loud crunch, chewed thoughtfully as
he gazed at her.  "How can I help?"  He leaned forward.  "Just
you come and sit on Uncle Q's lap...."
     Tarrant shivered.  She had definite visions of sitting on
Q's lap, and none of them were even remotely avuncular in nature.
Oh, she'd like to sit on his lap, alright--
     She pushed it from her head. "I've had an awful day."
     He looked suitably sympathetic, or as sympathetic as he
could with a mouthful of Red Delicious. "Oh...so let's have some
fun!"  He got that tell-tale twinkle in his dark eyes, the one
that Tarrant knew so well, the one that took her to the Festival
of Masques on Saturn three, and Comet-Skating near the Devarae
Nebula, and that one time that she'd gotten drunk on Dronogan
neisroi at the New Moon Ball and had found herself kissing Q in a
corner of the crowded ballroom, while his warm, long-fingered
hands had held her close to him, and...
     Damn!  Tarrant shook her head to loosen the thought.  Where
the hell had that come from?  She cast a look at Q, who was still
innocently eating the apple he'd conjured out of nowhere. "Where
did you get that apple?"  she asked, to change the subject.
     "Canada--the Annapolis Valley, to be exact."  He took
another bite, examined it closely.  "Want some?"
     "No--how can you get apples from Canada, Q?"
     He finished the fruit, and the core disappeared into
nothingness.  "Can I stay here for awhile?"  He asked, apparently
apropros of nothing.  "Some of the other Q's are looking for me."
His gaze was guileless, betraying nothing.
     Tarrant sighed, loudly. "What have you done now?"
     "Nothing."  he sounded disgruntled that she would even ask.
"I was just having some fun with the Mayor-Emeritus of Pamre
Five." Suddenly, Q's fingers were intensely interesting to him.
     "What did you do to him?"  Tarrant resisted the urge to
giggle--now that Q was here, her bad day had vanished like a
mist.
     "I just let the air out of his ritual phallic-enhancement
trousers."  Q's face was poised to laugh, Tarrant could see that.
     "Q!"  She composed herself. "You know how
important...er...size is to those people.  Especially for their
ruler--it's necessary for the people to think he has the biggest-
-you know--"
     "I know all about it." Q was trying to look chastened,
without much success.  "I just think it's a ridiculous custom--
and the pants were bright yellow--"
     "What color was the phallic enhancement unit?"  Tarrant
couldn't look him in the eye.
     Q's composure was beginning to show signs of wear.
"Green...a sort of really putrid--"  He caught Tarrant's gaze and
started to laugh, slowly at first, like a valve releasing
pressure, then building in intensity until he was lying across
Tarrant's bed, holding his sides.  "--a really horrible cucumber
green, with these little brass bells--at least, I think they were
brass, which would ring every time he moved...."  He laughed for
a few moments longer, pausing to wipe his eyes with the corner of
the bedsheets. "So, I need somewhere to hide--can I stay here for
a week?"
     "No."
     "A couple of days, then--just until the Mayor-Emeritus cools
off--"
     Tarrant shook her head. "No way."
     "A day--"
     "No!"
     He was getting desperate. "Just for tonight then--I promise,
I'll behave myself--"
     "Out of the question--Captain Picard doesn't want you
anywhere near this ship!"
     "Please--I'm begging you--just for tonight--"
     Tarrant sighed. "Alright, but--"
     "Gee, thanks!"  The air rippled for a moment, and Q's
uniform disappeared, was replaced with silk pajamas.  "What side
of the bed do you want?  I like to sleep near the wall, myself,
what with all that stellar drift near the windows--"
     "Shut up, Q."
     "Yes, Ma'am. Your wish is my command."  Q pulled the covers
over himself.
     "That's what I'm afraid of," Tarrant confessed, wearily.
There was silence for a few moments.
     "Remember that time on Lrawner Two when I convinced that
Paklid senator that you were the long-lost Regent Of Vicaria?  We
had him conned into calling you 'Majesty' and everything--it was
priceless!"  Q sounded positively gleeful, Tarrant couldn't tell
for sure: it was completely dark.  "We had him eating out of our
hands--"
     Tarrant hit him with a pillow.

     She was awakened some time later by her computer chime.  She
sat up in the eerie darkness, the total blackness of space, her
room formless around her. "Tarrant here."
     "Just wanted to inform you that we're on possible alert
status," Jackson, the officer on night-watch, sounded tired. "The
remote sensor array spotted three Romulan Warbirds uncloaking
near the edge of the neutral zone.  Captain wants a ship-wide
alert."
     Tarrant struggled to concentrate...she'd been dreaming about
something, floating somewhere...  "Alright--thanks Commander
Jackson."  Since she was one of the ship's tactical officers,
Jackson had been correct in notifying her.
     "Romulans--interesting."  Q sat up beside her, an oblique
shape in the bed.  His voice sounded less alert than usual, and
Tarrant wondered if he'd been caught sleeping.  If he was in
human form, he could sleep, couldn't he?
     "Don't get any ideas," Tarrant warned. "The last thing I
need--"
     "Shh."  Q touched her lips gently. "I wouldn't dare--do you
think I want every Q in this sector trampling all over each
other?  If they find out where I am, I'm in big trouble."  He was
silent for a brief moment. "It seems I forgot to thank you for
taking me in."
     "Were you asleep just now?"  Tarrant was suddenly curious.
     "Not in the way you think about sleeping--I was simply
elsewhere."
     "But I woke up, you were here in the bed, right where you'd
been when I turned off the lights.  I don't remember you going
anywhere."
     He shook his head. "Precisely--my body was still here, or
this human configuration of it."
     "What do you really look like?" Tarrant asked him. "In your
natural state, I mean?"  Her eyes were getting used to the
darkness, she could make out his features a little.  For once, he
wasn't smirking.
     "There is no 'natural state' for a Q--not one that anybody
remembers.  Each of us has the option, of course, of taking
whatever physical configuration we desire.  I could appear to you
as anything you can think of, or as nothing you've even
envisioned, even in your wildest dreams."  He smiled.  "Is there
any particular configuration you would like me to take?"
     "You don't have to do that for me," Tarrant demurred.
     "No, seriously--I can appear as anything you wish."
     Tarrant hesitated. "I like the way you look right now best
of all."
     Q laughed. "What do you mean, 'best of all'--you haven't
seen any of the other choices!"  He seemed quite amused. "I can
be anything--the perfect quantum Q."
     "I don't want you to be anything other than what you are
right now," Tarrant affirmed quietly.
     "So you like this?"  He indicated, with a gesture, his
present form.
     Tarrant nodded. "Do you guys--Qs, I mean--get to choose how
you want to look if you appear humanoid?"
     Q frowned, a little ruefully, Tarrant thought.
"Unfortunately, no--there are limited combinations of humanoid
appearence.  And there are some..."  He paused, seeming to look
inward, "...prerequisites."  He laughed shortly, an unpleasant
sound. "I had to take what they were giving out."
     "You don't like the way you look?"  Tarrant readjusted her
pillow so that she could lie on her side and talk to him at the
same time.
     "Well--I'm not exactly the stuff of holo-vids, now am I?"
     "You can't be serious!"  Tarrant was both amazed and amused.
"You'd want to look like Dack Liu-Desmia?  Or gar-Shish Melnack?
Why?"
     Q fidgited. "I...would rather not discuss it."
     "You're insecure!"
     "I am not--that's a human quality.  One that, thankfully, I
am without."  Q sounded miffed.
     "Vulnerable, then--Oh, come on, Q!  I know you like humans,
and I know how lonely you get sometimes.  Being omnipotent isn't
all bread and circuses, now is it?"
     "I've never been lonely in my life."
     "No--that's why you're always here, on this ship.  Because
you don't get lonely. I know how lonely you get, when you've seen
it all and done it all, because you see and do it all alone!"
     "You know?  How do you know?"  Q was beginning to get angry,
Tarrant could feel it; his anger pulsed between them, a living
thing.
     She touched his silk-clothed forearm.  "Because of how you
kissed me on Dronogar Seven...."
     Dronogar Seven....standing under the arches of the ballroom,
a glass in her hand, Tarrant had turned to survey the crowd of
wise, peaceful Dronogans calling in their new year.  When she had
turned again, she raised her glass to Q, standing beside her,
resplendant in the requisite Dronogan ritual robes.  "To the
angry gods, that they might be appeased," she had intoned, as was
the custom.
     "And to you, my dear--" He had smiled at her. "I must
confess, you look absolutely stunning."
     "Thank you for bringing me."  Tarrant touched his arm,
feeling the warm skin so close underneath.  Her fingers moved up
his arm, and then around his neck, as her other hand joined the
first.  She stood for a long moment, simply looking at him.
     "What are you doing?" His voice had been hushed, expectant.
     And then she had kissed him: pressing her opened mouth to
his, feeling the impulsive, beating life underneath her hands,
the silkiness of his dark hair when she slid her fingers into it.
She had pulled away for a moment, to stare at him, and then he
pulled her again into his embrace, returning the caress she had
offered, his hands holding her face to his as his tongue gently,
so gently, coaxed her lips open.  She had felt the shocking,
intense desire leap from his body to hers, scorching her like
sheet lightning, and where she was pressed so tightly to him, she
could feel the unmistakable physical signs.  She had wanted him
so badly, it was a physical pain....
     "I don't know what you're talking about," Q said.
     "I think you do know--I think you know and you're afraid to
admit it, because if you do, you won't seem as all-powerful as
you'd like me to think."
     "Oh thank you Counselor Troi for that very entertaining
spate of meaningless psychobabble," he spat, angrily. He threw
back the covers and got out of the bed. "I have never asked you
for help in all the time I've known you, and when I do--"
     Tarrant got out of the bed and faced him across the floor.
"I told you--you could stay here with me, at least until the
Mayor Emeritus calms down a bit!  What are you getting all upset
about?"
     Q was silent for a moment.  When Tarrant had gotten out of
her bed, the computer had sensed the movement of her body's heat
signature and had turned up the lights a little.  She could see Q
standing across from her in those silk pajamas.  The fabric was
very fine and soft, the cut of the garment relaxed, and she could
discern the outline of his body underneath the cloth.  His
shoulders looked broad and hard, and she was sure that his belly
was flat, muscular.
     "I have never met a more infuriating humanoid in all of my
lengthy and considerable existence," Q was saying slowly, as he
crossed the room and took her into his arms. "I do not know why
you continue to irritate me so much--"
     "--malice is the other side of love," Tarrant pointed out.
     "I'm not capable of love," Q countered.  His hands were on
her waist, his long fingers holding her close to him.  "I'm far
too jaded for that!"
     "You are capable of it--" Tarrant assured him, running her
hand through his hair and down his face.  "--of that and much
more.  When I think of all the covert help you've given this
ship, times you've gotten us out of situations when it seemed
hopeless--"
     "Stop saying those things," Q said. "You'll ruin my
reputation." He kissed her, a long, deep kiss that lit fire in
her belly.  Tarrant clutched his shoulders and pulled him tighter
against her; she wanted to crawl inside him, stay there.
     "You know, for an omnipotent being, you really are a good
kisser," Tarrant told him, brazenly nipping his bottom lip with
her teeth.  "And you know, I would very much like to take you to
bed now, if you're ready for that sort of thing."
     "Oh, I don't know," he said, teasing her. "I don't know if
my omnipotent self could stand the strain."
     But then there was nothing else to say, for they were
clasped in each others' arms, moving blissfully together, Tarrant
exploring every inch of him to see what kinds of things he liked,
and how much he liked them, and when he begged her to stop. He
was surprisingly human in his desires and his needs, but his
skill at these particular pleasures were definitely otherworldly.
He relished making Tarrant feel things she would have previously
thought impossible.
     Much later, lying in each others' embrace, Tarrant lazily
smoothed his chest with the palm of her hand. "I didn't know you
could do that sort of thing," she teased.
     Q turned to look at her. "Oh, really?" One of his eyebrows
went up. "What do you think we Qs do all day?  Play chess and
misplace galaxies?"
     "What's it like?"  Tarrant wanted to know, "Between two Qs,
I mean?"
     Q smirked. "I don't know--I never had a relationship with
any of them--you, on the other hand--"
     Computer dimmed the lights.

                         THE END


Pausing for Q.
A. Rex:  July 3, 1994
     Lieutenant Tiki Purcell stopped outside of her quarters and
picked through the collection of artifacts in her cloth bag.  She
smiled,pleased with herself.  This had been one of the better
expeditions she'd been on, and she was glad she'd requested the
time off to take it.  After all, it wasn't every day that the
Senator of Lwraner Four invited her to tour his planet's most
ancient artifacts. She'd found some nice things, too.
     She discontinued the privacy lock on her quarters and went
inside, eager to get out of her sweaty clothing and into a sonic
shower, then a hot bath.  She laid her bag of goodies carefully
on the table in the foyer, and went to strip off her gear.
     There was a message on her vid-com.  She frowned, curiousity
tugging at her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to get a shower
in peace until she read the message in its entirity.  "Probably
from Dessie,"  she mused aloud, thinking fondly of her best
friend back home on Earth.  Still, Oklahoma was a long ways from
Lwraner Four--maybe Dessie was in some kind of trouble?  She
palmed the security lock and sat down to read the message.
     "Hi, Tiki---it's Dessie!"  Purcell grinned. "Guess what?"
The message continued, "I'm pregnant!"
     Purcell's communicator badge beeped, and she dug it out of
the pocket of her non-regulation trousers. "Purcell here."
     "Lt. Purcell--will you report to my ready room at your
earliest convenience?"  Captain Picard's voice sounded crisply
out of the small speaker.
     "Yes sir--I'm on my way!"  Purcell knew what that tone of
voice meant, and she didn't pause even to change out of her dusty
clothing.  She dashed out of the door and down to the turbolift.
     "And guess what?"  Dessie's message continued, unheeded from
the small screen in Purcell's quarters.  "It's twins!"

     Picard was seated at the desk in his ready room when she
entered, glancing over something on a padd.  He continued to read
as Purcell entered, and then looked up when--and only when--he
was completely ready. "Lt. Purcell--I have some special orders
for you."
     Purcell was flabbergasted. "For me, sir?"  She was lucky to
still be aboard, given that most recent fiasco over stolen Paklid
jewels--it if hadn't been for Q and his last-minute intervention,
she'd be in the Federation stockade now. "What is it?"
     "You are aware of our recent troubles with the young Q known
as Trelane?"
     Purcell nodded mutely, which was to say she knew as much as
anyone else on the ship:  that Trelane was Q's bastard son, and
in a fit of temper (very tempermental was young Trelane--probably
got it from his father) had nearly destroyed everything including
the universe.  And she also knew (this from more clandestine
sources) that in order to stop this deadly cycle from continuing,
Q had sacrificed his own son.  Picard had been heard telling
Riker that, in all the time he'd known Q, this was the only time
he'd ever heard him cry.  The Enterprise crew hadn't seen Q for
some time since these happenings.
     "I realise you are probably also aware of Q's great
sacrifice, which he made on our behalf--"
     Damn!  Could he read her mind?!
     "--and for which he has been in some considerable personal
pain."  Picard drilled her with a look.  "Now it is no secret
that you have consorted with Q on previous occasions, namely the
theft of the Paklid jewels--"
     Purcell opened her mouth.  "Yes, but--"
     Picard silenced her with a raised hand. "--and have
therefore established something of a rapport with this being."
     A rapport?  As if anybody could achieve true rapport with Q!
     Picard swiveled the chair a bit.  "I want you to help him."
     Purcell blinked like a landed fish.  "Help him, sir?"  She
raised both eyebrows.  "I don't understand--help him in what
way?"
     Picard spoke slowly, deliberately, and Purcell thought that
perhaps the subject cut a bit close to the emotional bone for his
taste.  "I have been recently contacted by those in the Q
Continuum who feel that Q is...depressed....  They have tried all
their methods to remedy this, but he remains resistent to
everything.  They came to me and suggested that, in light of his
trmemendous act of personal sacrifice, that we--I--should try and
help him."
     "Oh, that's great sir--good luck!  I hope you can help him--
I'll be going on back to my quarters now--"
     "Purcell."  Picard's voice could turn her to stone.  "Q
sacrificed his son, his only son, to save this ship and crew."
He frowned.  "It is true that in the past, he has been something
of a thorn in our sides, and more often than not, a genuine pain
in the backside.  But he has done this ship and crew--this
Federation--an enormous service, and we do owe him something.
You are requested--"  Picard's face hardened.  "--ordered to take
him with you tomorrow when you beam down to Lwarner Four.  I
expect you to make use of your considerable...interpersonal
skills to reach him, as well as that fancy, Starfleet-sponsored
Exo-psychology degree."
     Purcell swallowed hard. "Yes sir.  I'll--I'll try, sir."
     Picard nodded. "Good.  Expect him some time this evening--
the Continuum has arranged for his transport, since he seems to
have refused to come here of his own volition."  He picked up the
padd, and in doing so, dismissed her. "I expect you to do your
utmost, Lieutentant--you forget how hot the Federation stockade
gets in summer."
     Purcell winced.  "No sir--I do not."  She exited the ready
room without another word.  She was seething on the inside,
however--how dare he throw the Federation stockade up to her like
that?!  She damn well remembered how hot it got--he didn't need
to remind her of that.  And now, Picard had her babysitting Q!
     "Just what I needed,"  she murmured, as the turbolift
deposited her neatly on her deck.
     Q was sitting on her bed.  Or rather, Q was slumping on her
bed.  Instead of his usual Starfleet captain's uniform,though, he
was clad in a nondescript pair of loose trousers and a long-
sleeved pullover shirt.  He was sitting with his forehead leaning
against the palm of his hand, his shoulders hunched forward.  In
his human guise, he looked wan and pale.
     "I see you got here."  Purcell stared at him for a long
moment. "Did the Continuum send you?"
     He nodded wordlessly. One long-fingered hand toyed with the
tassel on a pillow, and this was the only part of him that made
any movement at all.
     "How long have you been here?"  Purcell went into the other
room and skinned out of her dusty clothing, yanking a fleece
lounging robe over her head.  She splashed water on her face and
dried it quickly and carried her hairbrush with her out to where
Q was.
     "You're wasting your time, my dear."  The first words he'd
said.  Q's normally-vibrant voice was hollow and flat, and his
gaze didn't waver from the floor in front of him.
     "Am I?"  Purcell sat down on the bed facing him and began
drawing the brush through her hair in quick, jerky strokes that
betrayed her agitation.  She felt thoroughly out of her league,
and it showed in the big hanks of wavy, coppery hair that were
coming out on the brush.
     "If you keep that up, you'll soon be as bald as Picard."
Q's eyes moved from the carpet to her face, and after a moment he
held out his hand for the brush.  "May I?" He took the brush from
her, and Purcell turned her back to him, sat in front of him and
allowed him to brush out her hair.  "Were you rolling in the dirt
down there?"  His long fingers lifted the heavy mass of her long
hair as the brush drew long, painless strokes.
     "I was investigating a new dig site--archaeology's my hobby,
you know."  She reached up to pick a bobby pin out of the way.
"I found some nice things, too."
     "Picard told you to babysit me, didn't he?"  Q was pulling
the brush up from her forehead, gently stroking her scalp.  "I
suppose he told you the whole sordid story?"
     "No."  Purcell felt the psychologist in her rise to the
surface.  "He is concerned about you, though."
     "Is he."  Q's deft fingers brushed out the tiny curls near
her face. "Thinks I'm a hopeless case?"
     Purcell turned, took the brush from him. "You tell me--are
you?"
     Q gazed at his hands, lying limply in his lap.  Purcell
though that perhaps he would stay that way, until he sighed
deeply and looked up at her.  "I have had a very...difficult
choice thrust upon me.  For the sake of the Universe, and in the
interest of its continuance, I made the appropriate choice."  He
clasped his strong hands together in his lap.  "It was not easy."
     "Want to tell me about it?"  Purcell laid her hand on his
knee.
     "There are those in the Universe who utterly despise me,"  Q
continued conversationally, as if he hadn't heard her at all,
"and I suppose they have every reason to."  He uttered a small,
mirthless laugh.  "But your Captain Picard has always treated
me...as I deserved.  Which is rare, I admit."  He flexed his
hands experimentally, cracked the knuckles.  "He will not admit
to you, nor will I directly, the depth of
our...understanding...for each other."  Q paused, seeming to look
inward.  "There was no other alternative,"  he said, quietly, so
quietly that Purcell had to strain to hear him.  "He was drunk
with power, he would have destroyed everything...I couldn't let
him do that."
     "So you killed him."
     "I did."  Q gazed deep into her eyes, and as Purcell looked,
his dark eyes filled slowly with tears which spilled silently
down his face.  "Oh, how am I ever...going to explain this to
Dialiatha?"
     "Who's Dialiatha?"  Purcell wanted to touch him, wanted to
comfort him, but wasn't sure how.
     "His mother---she and I...."  He couldn't--or wouldn't--say
anything else.  He dropped his face into his hands and sobbed,
and Purcell sat woodenly on the bed, powerless to render any aid
or assistence to the omnipotent being crying in front of her.
After a time, she unbent her stiff limbs and went to the
replicator; got a pot of tea and went into the other room, trying
not to listen to Q's agonized crying.
     It was difficult.
     She tried valiantly to tune it out, but soon her inability
to ignore another's distress prompted her to forsake her chair,
and go to him.  He was still in the same posture as when she had
left him earlier, still hunched over, his shoulders shaking
rhythmically.  Purcell sat down on the bed and stared at his bent
form for a long moment, unsure about what to do.  She wondered if
she ought to call Deanna Troi...would that be of more help,
perhaps? He really seemed to be in acute distress, and the longer
she looked at him, the worse she felt, until she did the only
thing she could think of, and put her arms around him.
     She felt his body tense at the unaccustomed contact, then
relax into her embrace, his arms around her waist, his face in
her lap.  Purcell felt the warmth of him radiating through her
clothing, and lifted one hand to stroke his wavy dark hair.  His
distress was communicating itself to her in many ways:  the
clutch of his hands, the tension in his body, his abject
emotional posture.  He had chosen to destroy his own son rather
than allow such utter destruction as Trelane was planning.  What
did that say about Q?  Purcell wondered.  Suddenly, all her
previous ideas about her were being rapidly discarded, one after
another.
     She stroked his dark hair gently as his sobs lessened and
finally stopped.  "The Captain asked me to help you,"  she
whispered by way of explanation.  "What can I do to help you?"
     Q raised his wet face, etched with misery. "I don't know--
I've never been this helpless before,not even when I lost my
powers."  He rubbed his hands over his face. "I can't explain
what a loss like this does...to someone like me."
     Purcell got up and got some more tea from the replicator,
fetched her Mother's thick plaid shawl, and returned to the bed.
She poured a cup of hot, strong Orange Pekoe, and wrapped the
shawl around him.
     "I have always taken my responsibilities to the Continuum
seriously,"  Q said, looking straight ahead at nothing.  "Despite
appearences to the contrary, despite my frequent...mistakes....
So when Trelane's mother told me...that she was going to have a
child--my child--I immediately gave her my full support.  Of
course, she had chosen what I suppose you mortals would call a
'husband' from one of the Continuum's finest--and to him, she
said nothing.  It was never known that Trelane was my son--only
by me. You understand, both of them were my good friends, I
couldn't allow anything to ruin...things."
     "So you let Dialiatha's husband raise Trelane--your son--as
his own."  Purcell was intrigued--she never thought Q could be
so...honorable.
     "Yes."  he darted a quick glance at her.  "You thought I
wasn't capable of such things.  You thought I was a mannerless
cad."
     Purcell sighed.  "Yeah--I did.  Boy, do I feel stupid."
Especially in light of this newest development, she thought.
     "When I first encountered Jean-Luc, I knew he was different
from most others of his kind--honorable, brave, upright to a
fault."  A ghost of a grin played across Q's lips. "Stuffy,
thought--that's why it amused me so much to shake him up a little
from time to time."
     "The Captain is very worried,"  Purcell said, choosing her
words carefully.  "He called me back from a dig on Lwarner Four
to ask me if I could help you.  He seems to think we have some
kind of a "rapport."  To tell you the truth, I don't think I'm up
to the task!  What could I have to offer that would even begin to
help you?  I'm just human, and you're omnipotent!"  Purcell
picked at a stray hangnail on her index finger. "Spending time
with you makes me feel so small, and stupid." She looked up into
Q's dark, intense eyes. "But I realise that I also owe you a debt
of gratitude."  Her forehead creased.  "So if you want my help,
you have it.  I don't know what I can offer you, but it's there."
     Q took her hands in his. "Thank you."

     The hot blue sun of Lwarner Four had just risen when Purcell
and Q, in identical safari gear, beamed down to the dig site.
Well, Purcell beamed and Q flashed into existence. "This is it,"
Purcell told him. "Three million years worth of artifacts--this
site is all mine."
     Q crouched in the dusty soil, examining a pot-shard.
"Eleventh Dynasty--ah, yes, I remember it well--God, those
parties!"
     Purcell felt her eyes rounding in amazement. "You were
there?"
     Q nodded. "Yes--I've been almost everywhere."  He tucked his
bottom lip in, in a familiar expression of emotional distress.
"And been despised, almost everywhere."  He walked ahead of
Purcell, through the ruins.  She watched his retreating back with
a pang; this was a hopeless task.  More hopeless than sifting
through the Lwarnian ruins.

     "What was he like, your son?"  Purcell was seated opposite Q
on a wide plank, opening up her lunch.  "Was he like you?"
     Q smiled, his dark eyes crinkling at the outer corners, his
cheeks dimpling. "Yes--at least, I thought so.  He was arrogant,
and undisciplined, and could be shockingly irreverent."  Q's
smile faded. "But--there was a streak of genuine...mean-
spiritedness that he didn't get from either Dialiatha or me."
     Purcell was intrigued.  "How did you and Dialiatha...meet?"
     Q was faraway for a moment, his gaze unfocussed.
"I...encountered her in the cosmos, and I was...riveted by her."
His voice grew husky.  "She was--is--a magnificent
creature...simply lovely."  He folded his hands resignedly and
looked at Purcell. "I'm bored--would you like to take a little
trip?"
     "I'm eating my lunch, Q!"  Purcell indicated the open
container.
     "Take it with you!"
     And they vanished.

     Purcell was aware of the stars at first:  cold, immensely
distant, and picked out like diamond pin-pricks in the fabric of
space.  She was aware of Q behind her, his hands on her waist,
his mouth near her ear.  "I was passing here, and I caught sense
of her, also passing.  Her...husband never knew about us.  And
thus was her--my--son, Trelane."
     Purcell watched a distant star go super-nova, watching the
imploding gases writhing into a new configuration. She felt the
gentle pressure of Q's hands on her waist, his long fingers
transmitting some invisible message through her clothing to her
skin. "You loved her."
     "Yes."  He drew closer to her. "Would you like to see
anything else?"
     "Aldebaran--up close."  In a thought, they were floating on
the fringes of the twin star system known as Aldebaran, and Q was
at her side, holding her hand.  Inexplicably, Purcell felt safe.
     "This is beautiful, Q."  She felt a surge of warmth in her
chest.  "Thank you for showing me this--I really appreciate it."
     "Shall we go back?"
     "Alright--but will you show me more tomorrow?"
     "Of course."

     In the next five weeks, Purcell accompanied Q to many
corners of the galaxy, and was shown wonders that no human had
ever seen.  In exchange, the two would return to her quarters
aboard the Enterprise each evening, and Purcell would listen
patiently to Q talking about whatever he wanted to talk about.
It hadn't taken long for him to begin staying all night--after
all, Purcell reasoned, it was pointless for him to vanish into
the ethers each night when it was time for her to sleep.  She
could do just as much good for him if he was close at hand.  This
seemed like a rational explanation.  The truth was, from the
first time he had climbed into her bed, from the first night that
they had slept chastely side by side, she realised how much she
enjoyed his company, and there he had stayed.  Purcell told
herself, each night when she climbed in beside him, that this was
for his benefit.  After all, the captain asked her to help,
right?
     It was getting difficult to ignore his blatant sensuality,
however...Purcell had no contingency plan for dealing with that.
Also, she realised with a jolt while standing in the shower one
morning, that she really liked Q...how had that crept up on her?
Perhaps it had begun some months earlier, when, caught with a
rare Paklid jewel, Q had saved her from the Federation Stockade.
Purcell shivered, remembering:  the two weeks she had spent
there, waiting for the review of her case, had been more than
enough.  She had never been so pleased about anything as she was
about the Enterprise shuttle that came to take her home.  And
now, in light of the recent happenings, she supposed that he was
beginning to grow on her.  She liked it when he accompanied her
on her archaeological digs, if only to hear his tales of how this
particular civilisation had lived.  She liked it when he took her
to strange and exotic places, showed her new things.  She liked
waking up early in the morning, way before it was time to get up,
and seeing him in the bed beside her.  She liked him a lot.
     And today was her last day on the dig site.  This evening,
the Enterprise was leaving this sector, warping out to the edges
of the galactic disk to survey what appeared to be a developing
wormhole.  Purcell wondered if Q would go with them.
     She dressed quickly in her regulation uniform, for she would
be going to the dig this morning as a Federation representative,
to gather what was left of her tools, and take a few special
samples back with her.  She stood for a long time in front of the
mirror, gazing at herself, trying to decide what to do about her
hair.  Up or down?  Bun or braid?  She couldn't believe that on
this, of all mornings, she was stymied by such a workaday
decision.
     "Let me."  There was a silky male voice in her ear, and then
Q's gentle hands were drawing the brush through her coppery
curls.  Purcell smiled at him in the mirror, surrendered to his
skilful ministrations, and drifted for a few moments in
contentment.
     "You really ought to leave it down..."  He dropped the brush
on the cabinet in front of them and bent to press his mouth
against the nape of her neck.  Purcell closed her eyes
reflexively as a jolt of pleasure ran through her.  "So
lovely...." His hands slid around her waist as he pressed his
cheek against hers, gazing at the two of them in the mirror. "You
really are beautiful, my dear."
     "Q... are you coming to the dig with me this morning?"
Purcell had to try and force herself back to the task at hand,
else she would surrender to his considerable charm, and lose
herself in him. She gasped as he gently nipped her earlobe with
his teeth. "We should make a start if we're to get there while
the light is good...."
     "You have been so kind, so absolutely generous to me.... I
don't know what I would have done without you, my dear, truly I
don't."  He turned her to face him and kissed her face:  her
forehead, her eyes, the corners of her mouth. He paused, looking
deeply into her eyes. "I have enjoyed my time with you."
     Purcell felt unaccountably sad.  "You're leaving!"
     "Yes--I must.  I have much to do--I must travel to the
Continuum, talk to Dialiatha--hopefully alone."  He sighed, a
faint smile animating his face.  "But I will be back--would this
evening suit you?"
     Purcell nodded.  "Of course."
     Q grinned. "And in honor of your unparalleled assistance to
me, I will prepare a little surprise--a thank-you present, if you
will."
     "A thank-you present?"  Purcell pressed her hands against
his chest.  "What do you mean?"
     Q leaned in and kissed her, his tongue darting briefly
between her lips.  "I'll see you later!"  And he vanished.

     When Tiki Purcell returned from her dig that evening, the
first thing she did was to climb wearily into the sonic shower
and allow the high-frequency sound waves to massage her tired
body. She then shampooed her long auburn hair and rubbed a
scented lotion into her skin to soften it.  Then, she took a
couple of her favorite artifacts and a pot of tea, and sat down
to catalogue them. Q was nowhere to be seen.  Purcell imagined
that he'd had a harder than anticipated time explaining things to
Trelane's mother...after all, she and Q had been lovers, had
created a child, and now that child was gone.  It was not a task
that Purcell envied him.
     Still--and she smiled at this--she had gotten to know him a
little better, and that was the best thing of all.  She needed
nothing more from him than that.
     Scarcely had she formed the thought, than the room around
her--indeed, the entire starship--rippled and shimmered, and
changed...and she was standing on an alien beach, where the sands
were made of emerald-colored particles, and there were three
moons....
     She looked down at herself and was shocked to see that
somehow she had exchanged her floppy sweatsuit for a ball gown of
opalescent fabric, made of millions of tiny faceted beads that
reflected moonlight.  She touched her earlobes and discovered
dangling stones that felt like diamonds, and a matching pendant
at her throat.  Her feet, although bare, were draped in bracelets
of the same stones, and her hair was caught in a diamond buckle.
     She seemed to be alone.  The emerald sands shifted and
sighed, and the inky darkness of the water tugged at the beach
seductively, like a lover.  Moonlight spilled across the surf.
     Far out, just above the zenith, she could see what looked
like Saturn--the rings were the same--but it, too, shone and
glimmered with a cool, pale light not unlike the three moons.
     "This is absolutely beautiful...."  She had no idea where
she might be, not even an inkling, but it was gorgeous--she could
only imagine what it looked like in daylight....
     "There is no daylight here."  Q was standing behind her,
holding her body close to him, his hands at her waist. "The only
illumination are those three moons, and the rings of Tau-Ti,
which you see out there."  He turned Purcell to face him, and she
saw something new in his face:  hope.
     "You spoke with Dialiatha?"  She allowed herself to be drawn
close to him.
     "I did."  He dropped his gaze for a moment. "It was
difficult, at first, but I think she...understands...."  His
hands clasped her face.  "Do you like your present?"
     "You're giving me this planet?!"
     Q laughed warmly.  "Of course not--it's not mine, in the
first place, and I don't think the inhabitants would appreciate
me handing their world over to anybody."
     "Thank you--this place is so beautiful--what's it called?"
Purcell slipped her arm around his waist and walked with him
along the warm sand.
     "It is called Thergouria-Thanos Major--so far away from
Earth that your species will not discover it for another thousand
of your years.  By then, two of those moons will have collided
with the third, dusting this planet with an impenetrable cloud of
cosmic waste. But for now, it's perfect."
     "Yes."  Purcell stopped in her tracks, tilting her head
slightly.  "What's that sound?"
     "Ah!"  Q seemed pleased that she'd discovered it. "There are
hollow crystal formations beneath the substrata of this planet--
various tectonic stresses cause the hot, liquid core of this
place to shift through these tubes--I suppose you could say the
planet is 'singing.'"
     "Q."  Purcell turned to him. "Kiss me--now."  She wrapped
her arms around him and pulled his face down to hers.  There was
silence for some time as Tiki Purcell was duly rewarded.  Silent
night-creatures watched, uncomprehending, as one Earth-human
female and one omnipotent male sealed something that they had
started with the theft of a Paklid jewel.
     Purcell clung to Q as his mouth caressed hers with an
otherworldly skill.  She felt his hands on her hips, pulling her
body close to his own.  He smelled wonderful, he felt wonderful,
he tasted wonderful, and Purcell freed her mouth from his long
enough to make a whispered request.
     Q smiled.

     Purcell flipped the on switch of her vid-com and sat down to
prepare a message to send to Dessie--she could hardly believe it
had been nearly four months since that first dispatch from
Dessie--she owed her friend a letter and then some.
     She leaned her cheek on her hand and smiled to herself,
wondering how to begin--it wouldn't be easy to tell, that was for
sure.  It was going to be even harder to explain it so Dessie
could understand everything she was talking about. Well, she had
better make a start.
     "Hi Dessie, it's me, good old Purcell.  Guess what? I'm
pregnant!!!"

                    The End.



Another Turn of the Q


     Anna Mithrais watched the console scrolling its display by
in front of her, seeing nothing.  She was unaware that she was
frowning slightly, her dark brows clenched in a habitual
expression of distaste, her hazel-green eyes crinkled very
slightly at the corners. After four straight hours of going
through the files on the inhabitants of Menos Two, she could find
absolutely nothing that would explain Devrae Vil-kolait-Homra
having the Aldeberan night sickness.
     She swore fluently under her breath, a long, colorful stream
of profanity that issued cheerfully from her full, curved mouth.
     "Hey, Mithrais--not bad for a beginner!"  A smiling voice
erupted in laughter from behind her and she swung around to see
Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, padd in hand.  "You take the
Academy course?"  He referred to the Starfleet Academy course,
"Creative Cursing 2380" which had at first been instituted as
something of a joke, but quickly grew into a serious course,
especially among deep-space candidates who understood the
importance of letting off steam.  Mithrais had netted one of the
best grades in the history of the Academy, and used this
knowledge to her advantage.
     "Beginner?"  Mithrais raised an eyebrow, although the blind
LaForge obviously couldn't see the gesture.  "Saddle up, LaForge-
-there's competition riding over your hills."  She laughed,
heartened by his presence.  Mithrais truly appreciated LaForge.
He ran Engineering with the skill of a top-flight organiser, but
he had a deep vein of humanity and fairness that Mithrais really
admired.  And, he was a great fan of Ancient Earth jazz music,
which Mithrais absolutely adored.
     "Trouble here?"  LaForge leaned over her and gazed at the
screen--or did the equivalent of gazing, she supposed.  His
Visor, which allowed him to see all of the normal spectrum and
then some, replaced his sightless eyes.  Without it, LaForge
would never have made it onto any ship, let alone the Enterprise.
     "I've been going over these records, but I can't seem to
find any reason for that woman having an isolated outbreak of
Aldebaran night sickness--it's unheard of in this sector!  And
she swears she's never been to Aldebaran.  I'm stymied."
     "Does she have an Aldebaran boyfriend?"  LaForge chuckled,
flashing incredibly even, white teeth.  He was quite handsome,
Mithrais mused.  Even with that visor....
     Mithrais sat back, pushed her hair out of her eyes,
readjusting her hair-band.  "She claims to be observing a period
of ritual celibacy.... "  Mithrais blew air up into her bangs, a
frustrated gesture.  "I'm just not sure I believe her."
     LaForge thought for a moment. "Perhaps you might want to run
a contact-contamination series on her--see if she's lying about
those Aldebaran boyfriends!"
     "You sure you don't mind me using these terminals?"
Mithrais indicated the computer screen in front of her.  "I could
use the ones in SIckbay, but Data's routing some diagnostics
through there, and it takes ages to get anything up on the
screens."
     "I don't mind a bit," LaForge assented.  "Things have been
so quiet lately I might just relax for a change!"
     Mithrais grinned. "Now that would be a first!"
     She watched him disappear around the corner, doubtless on
his way to something important.  She scrolled another series of
medical files, watched them dispassionately disappearing down the
edges of the screen, and rubbed her tired eyes.  God, how late
was it?
     "Computer--what is the time?"
     "The current time is 0100 hours."
     One o'clock in the morning! God!  Had it been that long?
Mithrais could imagine Dr. Crusher's response: "Anna, I asked
that you be thorough--but not that you kill yourself in the
attempt!" The doctor would want to know how she thought sleep
deprivation would benefit their relief mission on Menos. Wait a
minute--
     What the hell...?
     As Mithrais watched, the information that was scrolling past
on her monitor began sliding off the edge of the screen, the
letters becoming strangely liquid and pooling on the console
buttons in front of her.  She stared in amazement as the medical
records continued drooling off the screen and dripping,
liquified, onto the console. How was this happening? This was
impossible--
     "LaForge!"
     It was still happening--she tried to stop the scrolling but
the data continued melting down from the screen, pooling in front
of her like water.  And even more oddly, some of the letters that
she had seen melting were now floating on the console,
configuring themselves into...
     ...some kind of message!
     She leaned closer, peered at it.
     A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS!!!
     Huh?
     "Oh, well, if you're going to be as dull as that..." There
was a sudden flash and a man was standing--leaning--against the
console.  With a gesture, he swept the melted words off the
console and onto the floor. He appraised Mithrais, his gaze
raking up and down her body until a sly smile pulled at the
corners of his mouth.  He was wearing a Starfleet uniform,
Mithrais noticed, silently congratulating herself on retaining
her faculties--a Starfleet Captain's uniform.
     "Sir!"  She leapt to her feet, stood immediately to
attention. "I was not aware of any visitors, sir--please excuse
my oversight."
     He burst into laughter.  His dark, intense eyes crinkled at
the corners, as he laughed long and heartily, punctuating it with
a resounding slap on his knees. Mithrais' stiff posture faded--
something was definitely amiss here.
     "I may be risking the Federation Stockade, but who the hell
are you?" She faced him, hands on hips.
     "Oh, a defiant one!"  The man leaned in close to her, fixing
her with his magnetic gaze. "You know, I like them defiant...it
whets the appetite!"
     Mithrais struck him across the face.
     And watched the grin slide off, just as her medical data had
slid off the monitor and onto the console.  His face flushed with
anger, the dark, finely-etched brows drawing together.  He seemed
astonished, though, and was having a difficult time hiding it.
"You struck me?!"
     Mithrais glared at him.  "You listen here, you disgusting
bag of flesh--if you ever leer at me like that again, you will be
carrying your own head in a bag!"
     He laughed, his cheeks dimpling.  His teeth were perfect,
and very, very white. "I've never seen you around here before--
who are you?  New to the ship?"  He walked around her, surveying
her with genuine intellectual interest. "What's your position?"
     "I'm a psychiatric nurse. Now you answer me something--who
are you, and how did you get on the ship?"
     "Oh, you needn't question me, my dear--I come and go as I
please.  Jean-Luc and I go way back...."  His interest in her
seemed to fall away as he examined his fingernails.
     That hit her with a thud. "Jean-Luc?"  She sounded stunned,
even to her own ears, even though it was one o'clock in the
morning. "Jean-Luc Picard?"
     "Yes, of course--old Johnny and I are good buddies!"
     Mithrais peered at him, her eyes narrowing.  She scanned his
aspect with all the instincts of a trained psychiatric nurse, and
deduced that he was either a pathological liar, a flagrant
narcissist, or telling the truth. "Who are you?"
     The man took her hand and, bending over it kissed it
gallantly in a perfect show of ancient-Earth manners. The brief
touch of his lips sent a jolt of energy up her arm that burst in
her chest with a faint tingle and a pop.  It wasn't altogether
unpleasant, either. "Enchantee, my dear--I am known as Q."
     LaForge burst into Engineering, arms akimbo. "Q!"
     With a gesture, the man known as Q froze LaForge in his
tracks. He then turned back to Mithrais as if absolutely nothing
had happened. "Now then, my dear--as I was saying before I was so
rudely interrupted--"
     MIthrais gasped. "What have you done to him?"
     Q glanced at LaForge, frozen in a weirdly comic pose, one
arm out in front of him, his mouth open to say something. "Oh
nothing that he'll suffer from--or remember."  He smiled.  "Tell
me about yourself."
     "Not until you change him back--and then you had better tell
me the whole truth--"
     "And nothing but the truth, so help me God--"  Q rolled his
eyes, and with a flick of his wrist, re-animated LaForge, who
came barging right on over--
     --and walked through the place where Mithrais and Q had been
standing.

     Mithrais was outside. Outside of the ship, that is.  And
floating gently in place beside the man called Q. Except that he
couldn't be any kind of normal humanoid man, or he--and she as
well--would be deader than dead right now.
     "Now then, let's have a little discussion--" He gestured,
and she was clasped in his arms, face-to-face with him.  She had
to admit, it wasn't exactly horrible, but it was a bit sudden.
     "Could you let go of me--I just met you!" She pushed against
his arms, found she could not move him. "Are you going to rape me
now?"
     His arms fell away, and the expression on his face changed
so abruptly it was like a cold weather front building in over
land. His eyes were dangerous. "I--"  He was speaking slowly, but
enunciating every word very clearly so that there could be no
mistaking his meaning, "Have never, in all my vast existence--"
     "You froze poor Geordi!"  Mithrais pushed against his chest
with her palms.
     "Oh, I froze poor Geordi!"  He pushed her away from him with
an expression of distaste. "Poor Geordi doesn't even know that
anything happened to him.  He is safe inside your precious ship,
and no more enlightened about anything than he was five minutes
ago!  Do you think I roam about doing harm to members of
your...admittedly, underdeveloped...species?" He folded his arms
and regarded her, floating in space.
     "Do you?" She couldn't get a handle on him at all!  It was
beginning to frustrate her--that, and not being able to figure
out how she was hanging suspended in space and not dead yet.
     "I most certainly do not."  His gaze slid away from hers,
and the corners of his mouth quirked in the smile that never
seemed to be very far away. "I have been entertained by your
species, on occasion--and ask your captain if I haven't
intervened the odd time to save his mangy hide!"  He pouted.
"Truly, you wound me!"  He snapped his fingers.
     And he and Mithrais were in Picard's ready room.  Picard, it
must be said, had no forewarning of their impending arrival, and
was caught at the desk with Doctor Beverly Crusher sitting facing
him on his lap.
     "Hello, Jean-Luc!"  Q crooned. He affected a pose of shock.
"Doctor Crusher--I had no idea!"
     Mithrais, standing in the presence of her Captain and her
boss, one sitting in the lap of the other, wanted to melt into
the floor.  She could seriously see a future for herself doling
out anti-psychotic drugs on Menos Two....
     "Q!"  Picard leapt to his feet, unmindful of Doctor Crusher,
who went spilling to the floor, landing on her backside with a
small cry of alarm.  She caught sight of Mithrais on the way down
and popped back up with cheeks that were colored bright scarlet.
Picard was livid. "What is the meaning of this?!"
     Q draped himself over Picard's vacated chair, his feet on
the desk.  "Meaning?  Why does everything have to have a meaning?
Some things, Johnny boy, have no meaning!"  His eyes slid
sideways to where Beverly Crusher was trying to regain some
dignity while zipping up the front of her uniform. "Correct,
Doctor?"  His grin widened. "Oh, pretty lingerie, by the way...."
     Crusher leapt for him.
     "Doctor!"  Picard gave her a look. "Please, return to your
quarters."
     "Jean-Luc, I can--"
     "Doctor, not now!"  Picard was pleading with her. "Please."
     Q waved as Crusher left. "Bye-bye Doctor!" He turned to
Picard--"You know, Jean-Luc, I knew James Kirk when he commanded
the Enterprise."  He paused, looking thoughtful. "And I would
have to say that his relationship with his Chief Medical Officer
took a rather different form than does yours.  Of course, I
always said that I could never picture Kirk and Bones together--
no, Spock always struck me as more Jim's type, you know?"
     "Get out of my chair! Get off my ship! Get out of my life!"
Picard thundered to Q.  And to the replicator, "Tea! Earl Grey--
hot, dammit!"
     "Have I embarrassed you, Jean-Luc?"  Q tutted
sympathetically.  "Now I feel simply awful about it--let me make
it up to you!"
     Picard looked alarmed. "No!"  He seemed to see Mithrais for
the first time. "Commander, would you like to explain your
presence here at this hour?  I would think you had gone off-duty
long ago."
     Mithrais colored under Q's scrutiny.  "Ah, no, sir--I'm
doing some extra research for Doctor Crusher--for our relief
mission down on Menos.  I was down in Engineering, making use of
the consoles down there--"
     Picard rubbed his forehead, sighed. "Commander, the
condensed version, if you please--"  He peered over the top of
his hand. "Have you been hanging around Data or something?"
     Q guffawed.
     Mithrais related the pertinent events.
     Picard sipped tea.
     Q lay on the sofa, contemplating the ceiling and eating an
apple that he seemed to have conjured from somewhere.
     "Commander--you are free to go.  I suggest you go to your
quarters and go to sleep."
     Mithrais nodded. "Aye, sir--thank you!"
     "Seeya later," Q caroled, as she left.


     What an odd dream, Mithrais thought, turning over onto her
right side.  She felt the delicious tug of sleep and was just
about to surrender and slide down into it, when...
     "Hello, my dear--did you miss me?" A hand lifted the covers
on the opposite side of the bed, althought Mithrais could see
nothing.  The voice, she knew, was Q's, but he must have been
making himself invisible, because she just couldn't see him.
     She watched as a bump grew under the covers, slid closer to
the wall. The bump took the shape of a body and coalesced into Q,
complete with what looked like silk pajamas.
     "Get out!"  Mithrais slammed herself back against the wall,
her heart pounding in her throat. She willed herself to stay
conscious, but it was coming back, it was creeping up on her....
     ...four Cardassians, and that stinking little room on
Caltinos Seven, and the heat, and the flies, and they kept at
her, and at her, even when she begged them to stop.
     Opposite her, the dark eyes of the man named Q widened, then
clamped down into angry ovals. He'd read her mind. His face was
taking on the contours of disbelief, then shock and anger, then
empathy as he felt her pain... She thought dimly, still clenched
against the wall, that he must be a very powerful telepath--for
it was obvious that he had gotten all of it, every nuance.
     "My God."  Or at least it sounded like that.  Mithrais had
trouble hearing him through the roaring in her ears, and his
voice had been little more than a whisper. And then his gaze
changed, and something was happening inside Anna Mithrais's mind.
She felt the nightmare memory fading, felt a deep and peaceful
calm coming over her.  It wasn't the narcotic, false calm of
someone who was trying to take over her mind, bend her to his
will--it was genuine, soothing, comforting.  She bent her head
and sobbed, feeling the horrible memory recede into the mists of
nothingness as the warm, safe calm of the Q washed over her.
     She lay back down on her side, her cheek against the pillow
like a child.  She was being passed a cup of cold, delicious
water and told to drink it, and then she was wrapped in her
blankets and gently, mysteriously, lulled to sleep.
     She slept until the computer woke her.  Q was gone.  But the
table in her quarters had been set for her breakfast, and there
was a padd lying beside the plate. She picked it up and read what
was on it.
     I'M SORRY.
     Hmmm...Curiouser and curiouser.  Mithrais padded across the
carpeted floor to the replicator.  "Computer, has a breakfast
selection been programmed for Commander Anna Mithrais?"
     "A selection of Thelosian spring fruit, Andorian wafer bars,
and fresh grape juice," the Computer intoned.
     All of her favorite things...how on Earth did he know?
     "But you see, my dear, I merely anticipated your needs."  Q
flashed into existence at the breakfast table, wearing his
Starfleet uniform and a grin.  Mithrais jumped when he appeared,
quickly recovered.
     "I'm never going to get used to that," she murmured.  She
recived her food and carried it to the table. "Computer--"
     "A pot of mocha java, hot and strong, a basin of sugar and a
pitcher of half-and-half cream."  Q finished for her.  His long,
elegant fingers toyed with a napkin as Mithrais took her seat
opposite him. "Are you feeling better this morning?"  His dark,
intense gaze seemed to bore into her.
     "I'm really sorry about that--"
     Q waved a hand airily. "Don't bother being embarrassed.
Really, I shouldn't have crept up on you like that--I assure you,
I had no idea you had been..."  The corners of his mouth tucked,
a quick gesture that betrayed some strong emotion. "...mishandled
by those Cardassians...."  He gave her a solemn look.  "I truly
am sorry if I caused you any untoward distress."  Q watched as
Mithrais daintily broke off a corner of a wafer bar, brought it
to her mouth, watched as her ripe lips closed around it.  She was
so elegant, so...sensuous.... It gave him substantial pleasure
just watching her....
     "You staring at me?"  Her mouth full of wafer bar, Mithrais
glared at Q.
     "Of course not!"  He tucked his bottom lip in.  Caught!
     "You were!"
     "Nonsense--you humans are all so self-centred!  Why would I
be staring at you?" Q had a desperate need to get immediately off
the subject, and leaned forward to pour himself a cup of coffee.
     "Can you do that?"  Mithrais asked, watching him with
interest.  He deftly dropped two cubes of sugar into his cup and
poured off half the jug of cream.
     "Can I do what?"  He peered at her over the rim of the cup.
     "I didn't realise you could drink coffee--"
     Q took a long sip of the hot drink, laid the cup down
carefully.  "When I am in this form, young lady, I can do
anything one of your lumpen humanoid males can."  He seemed a bit
miffed.
     Mithrais gave him a long, speculative glance. "Perhaps you'd
better tell me a little about yourself, Mr. Q."
     Q's eyebrows popped up. "Anything...."


     Anna Mithrais and Q were walking at a vigorous pace along
the corridors of Deck Twelve, heading towards Sickbay.  "I cannot
believe that a supposedly omnipotent being such as you would feel
the need to hang around and torment the humans aboard this ship!"
Mithrais had a med-kit in one hand and a medical tricorder in the
other.  She stepped neatly around a male nurse as the Sickbay
doors slid open and continued talking. "I mean, don't you have
anything better to do?"
     "You don't like me very much, do you?"  Q was keeping pace
with her easily.  "Ah, the redoubtable Doctor Crusher!"  He
greeted Mithrais's boss as she stepped away from a biobed.
"Feeling chipper and rested this morning?"
     "I really don't have time, Q!"  Crusher's voice held a
dangerous warning note, and her lustrous red hair was disheveled.
And with good reason:  Mithrais had been summoned from her
breakfast with the news that one Menosian woman had somehow
during the night managed to start a city-wide outbreak of
Aldebaran night sickness, and seemingly without leaving the
comfort of her sickbed.  Crusher was at wits end, and desperately
needed every available hand.
     "Mithrais, I want you to take an escort and go down to Menos
and see what relief efforts you can mount.  We'll need to get--"
     "Doctor--"  Mithrais touched Crusher's arm. "There's not a
whole lot we can do--you know that."  She watched as the other
woman struggled against this indictment for a brief moment, then
subsided with a look of resignation.  Crusher's bright blue eyes
dimmed for a moment with unshed tears, and she brushed a hand
across her eyes angrily. "I'm talking damage control, Mithrais--
containment, for God's sake!"  She pressed a hand to her
forehead. "We've got seventeen hundred people in Menos City going
very rapidly insane and infecting the others."  Crusher noticed Q
still standing there, raked him with a contemptuous gaze. "I'd
think that you, with all your omnipotent powers would make some
gesture of assistence!"
     Q blanched, his mouth opening on nothing.  He stared at
Crusher for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching. "I
might."
     Crusher turned slowly from the diagnostic panel she was
encoding. "What did you say?"
     Q stepped forward until they were standing eyeball-to-
eyeball.  "I said:  I might be able to help."
     "I'm listening."
     "You have a population of seventeen hundred that is already
infected with Aldebaran night sickness.  I can help them."
     Crusher's temper matched her red hair. "Well then, why don't
you, dammit?!"
     Q folded his arms across his chest and regarded her blandly.
"I'm waiting for you to say please."
     Mithrais gaped at him. "PLEASE!"
     "Done."

     When Mithrais was able to see, she realised that Q had
deposited himself and her on Menos Two.  And right in the middle
of the worst devastation, by the looks of things. She stepped out
of the way as two women and a man went barrelling past her,
obviously in the last stages of the disease, and convinced that
something was chasing them.
     "What kind of a disease is this, anyway?"  Q was peering
about him with distaste, his pristine uniform and unblemished
mien strangely at odds with the scene around them.
     Mithrais had her medical tricorder out and was busy scanning
the surrounding area for evidence of the virus. "I thought you
were omnipotent," she snarled.
     "You forget whom you're talking to."
     Mithrais straightened, shoved a wayward lock of dark hair
out of her eyes. She stared at Q for a long moment, trying to
decide if he was sincere. "It's a viral form of mental illness--
it starts when the virus enters the bloodstream through any small
cut or break in either the mucous membranes or the skin..."
     Q made a face. "Yuk."
     Mithrais laughed mirthlessly, a hollow sound. "'Yuk' doesn't
even cover it, Q.  From there it implants in the neuro-ganglion
cells of the brain and begins manufacturing its viral DNA, which
is injected into the host cells and replicated from there."  She
kicked aside an overturned cart of some kind, probably used to
haul produce or market wares. "The individual who is initially
infected usually comes by the virus in one of two ways:
deliberate injection, and sexual contact.  In the initial stages
of the disease, the patient usually presents with nausea,
tiredness, general malaise.  This lasts about forty-eight hours.
From there, if not arrested immediately, the condition develops
into low-level hallucinations and delusions, usually persecution
fantasies and nightmares.  It can often be arrested with
antibiotics." Mithrais spoke without emotion, as if reading from
a diagnostic report. "Without treatment, however, the patient's
condition progresses to full-blown dementia, violent delusions,
degrading from there into grand mal epileptic seizures.  Death
follows in three to six hours."
     Q was silent. When he finally spoke, it was with effort.
"Truly, I didn't realise--please forgive me.  I spoke hastily."
His dark eyes were contrite.  "I'll do whatever I can to help."
He gazed around him at the devastation.  "I just don't know if it
will be enough."

     With Q's help, Mithrais and a team from the Enterprise
managed to inoculate the infected citizens, although four people
were in the final stages of the disease and could not be helped.
Mithrais contacted Dr. Crusher and arranged for them to be placed
in palliative care aboard the ship, so that they would at least
have a comfortable and dignified death. Q not only used his
considerable powers to help those who were ill, but also effected
successful containment of the virus, eradicating it from the face
of Menos Two.  To Anna Mithrais's surprise, he worked alongside
the Enterprise team, helping with the inoculations and
restraining those who, caught in the disease's clutches, had
become violent.  Six hours after beam-down, the outbreak of
Aldebaran night sickness had been arrested on Menos Two.


     The doors of Holodeck Three slid open with a pneumatic
hissing sound, to admit Anna Mithrais.  She had showered and
changed into her favorite off-duty outfit of loose pants and top,
and her short hair was pulled off her face in a band.
     She sighed in contentment, breathing deeply in the simulated
landscape that so reminded her of her home on Earth.  The low,
rolling hills carpeted with spruce and tamarack, the dusky
granite cliffs stretching eagerly out into the crashing surf.
The simulation was so real, that she could almost smell sea-salt
in the air. She climbed her favorite granite outcropping, from
where she could sit and watch the sea.  She took the hill in easy
stages, pacing herself, and when she reached the top she wasn't
winded, but rather refreshed.
     "Hello, my dear."
     Mithrais turned as Q stepped out of a stand of tamarack
trees.  He was, amazingly, wearing rugged denim pants, hiking
boots, and a fisherman-knit sweater.  It suited him, Mithrais
thought--he looked like a young fisherman from home, pulling into
the harbour at nightfall.
     "Q! I wondered where you had gone."  Mithrais indicated the
space beside her. "Please--won't you join me?"
     There was silence as Q sat beside her, gazing out over the
pastoral scene. "This is a reproduction of your home."  He turned
sideways to look at her.  The manufactured sea-breeze caught his
dark hair and ruffled it like a playful hand. "Newfoundland--on
Earth, correct?"
     Mithrais nodded. "Yeah.  I haven't been home in a long, long
time."
     Q drew his knees up, hugged them thoughtfully. "I could
remedy that, you know."  His dark eyes scrutinized her with a
dawning respect.  "That was some job you did on Menos."
     Mithrais felt suddenly foolish, and took to picking at a
ragged fingernail. "I couldn't have managed without your help."
She paused her picking to look up at him suddenly. "Why are you
sometimes so infuriating, and at other times so...incredible?"
She laid a hand on his sweater-covered shoulder. "I mean, we
really got off on the wrong foot, and I had you pegged as a
troublemaker--until you stepped in on Menos when I needed you."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek gently, lingering near
him to breathe in his subtle, pleasant scent. She felt his hands
on her arms.
     "How did you know so much about Aldebaran night sickness?"
he asked, drawing back to fix her with a look. "That wasn't from
any medical journal."
     Mithrais looked away, out to sea.  The sun was just setting
behind the light-house, spilling golden light on the ocean. "I
was kidnapped about eight years ago by a squad of Cardassian
renegades off Aldebaran Three.  It was my first mission out of
the Academy."  She continued staring into the brilliant, sun-lit
sea, not looking at him. "They were intent on retaliation for
what they called, 'Federation Crimes Against the Cardassian
People'."  Mithrais bit her lip, hesitating. "The shuttle pilot
and I were the only two not killed in the phaser barrage they
pelted us with.  We were taken to an empty munitions warehouse on
the edge of some Cardassian city.  They beat Thoros to death when
he refused to talk."  Her voice faltered.
     "It's all right." Q took her hands in his. "I'm listening."
     Mithrais sighed. "Oh, it's been eight years--long time ago,
now."  She squeezed his hands and released them. "Since they
couldn't get any information out of Thoros, they decided to have
some fun with me. One of them had Aldebaran night sickness, and
he gave the virus to me."
     Q's face was darkening with an ill-concealed rage--not
directed at her, Mithrais knew, but at her nameless tormentors.
"How long were you held?"  His voice held an edge that Mithrais
hadn't heard before.
     "Seventeen days--then the U.S.S. Hood was dispatched to find
us.  Captain Kender sent out a team and they brought me home."
     "My God."
     "Yeah!  I was well into the third and final stage when they
sent for this new doctor, this doctor that they said would give
me the best chance of all."  Mithrais smiled. "Her name was
Beverly Crusher, and she was the closest thing to an angel that
I'd ever seen!"  She laughed, turning to Q. "You must think this
is really stupid."
     In answer, Q tilted her face in his hand and kissed her, his
warm, open mouth caressing her with a world of gentleness.
Mithrais shifted in his arms and responded, wrapping herself in
his embrace and returning his kiss enthusiastically.  She felt
his body as he recieved her caress, felt the crackle of alien,
omnipotent power just under his skin.  And for the first time,
she realised that he was just about the most desirable thing
she'd found in a long time. She drew away from him, tracing the
contours of his face with her fingers.
     "I would never hurt you," he said quietly, the phrase a
promise. "But I can show you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams,
and gift you with my deepest affections."  His hand smoothed her
face.
     Mithrais giggled. She suddenly felt light and joyful. "Can
you do that?"  She asked.
     Q grinned, and his dimples appeared.  "Can I drink coffee?"

                                   THE END!!!

Mithrais Takes a Q
     (July 10, 1994)
     A. Rex

     Anna Mithrais sat in deep contentment underneath the
towering spruce trees that ran down the simulated hillside of
this, the holodeck re-creation of her home on Earth. Since her
time on Menos Two, and her discovery of Q, she had taken to
coming here to think and to be alone.
     She could hardly believe that it had been six weeks since
they had left the beleagered planet of Menos Two, and left it in
a lot better condition for having been there.  Mithrais would be
eternally grateful to Q for his help--even though the conditions
of her meeting him were less than perfect.
     She wondered where he had gone--ever since that day when he
had joined her on the holodeck--all of six weeks ago--she had
neither seen nor heard from him.  Perhaps he didn't find her as
appealing as she had initially thought, despite that mind-
blowing, knee-melting, heart-stopping kiss they'd shared here in
this very spot.  Oh, well....she might as well enjoy the sunset,
and be glad of it.
     "Mind if I interrupt?"  A quiet voice interrupted Mithrais's
reverie, and she looked up, hoping to see Q.  Instead, she saw
Deanna Troi.
     "Oh! Counselor--forgive me, I didn't hear you come in."
Mithrais grinned. "Please, have a seat--if you can find an
available rock!"
     "I don't mind if I do."  Troi gathered her voluminous skirts
under her and took a seat on the mossy ground beside Mithrais.
She gazed out over the sea, watching the simulated sun sinking
slowly into the dark, choppy waters.  Today, Mithrais had
programmed the simulation for autumn, because she loved the
island's cruel beauty when the weather got colder. "This is very
lovely--I can see why you come here."  Her dark, pretty eyes were
kindly as she smiled at Mithrais. "You've been spending a lot of
time here--I'm curious."
     "Oh--it's nothing--I mean, I'm alright, I'm not having
flashbacks or anything like that."  Mithrais was stumbling over
her tongue, trying to reassure the counselor.
     "Does this have something to do with Q?"  Troi gave her an
opening.
     Mithrais chuckled. "I can't fool you at all, can I?"  She
picked at the hem of her denim shirt, looked out over the sea.
"Deanna, you and I have been friends since...well, since that
incident with the Cardassians.  Sometimes, you know me too well--
better in fact, than I know myself."  Mithrais pleated the hem of
the shirt as she spoke, concentrating on making each pleat the
same size as the others.  "You're right--it does have something
to do with Q.  I'm just not sure what!" And she cast a
supplicating gaze in Troi's direction.
     The other woman thought for a moment, shifting her legs
under her until she was sitting cross-legged under her long
skirt.  She leaned forward and with slender, delicate fingers
picked a small flower from the mossy ground.  "You're in love
with him."
     Mithrais opened her mouth to protest, but Troi was still
talking.
     "I should have immediately suspected this, when you started
visiting the holodeck so much.  And Beverley told me that he was
instrumental in helping you on Menos Two--it all fits, it really
does."
     Mithrais laughed.  "And now you're going to tell me that
nobody in her right mind would fall in love with Q, because he's
arrogant, and quixotic, and often dangerous.  That he wields an
enormous amount of power, and could destroy me utterly on a whim.
That he's incapable of love, thinks of us humans as insects."
Mithrais wanted Troi to disapprove of her choice so that the
counselor could offer some sane, rational explanation for why
Mithrais felt the way she did, and then Anna could forget all
about Q and go on with her life aboard the Enterprise.
     "I think..." Troi spoke slowly, choosing her words
carefully. "...that under the circumstances, it was inevitable
that you would fall in love with Q."  When Mithrais raised a
questioning eyebrow, Troi continued, ticking the reasons off on
her fingers.  "For starters: Q is very attractive--tall, well-
built, handsome, very confident.  He's powerful.  He's
intelligent.  He's witty.  He has much to offer, Anna.  As well,
he offered a tremendous amount of help to you when you especially
needed it."
     Mithrais knew that Troi was referring to the situation on
Menos Two, but her statement could also apply to the help that Q
had offered Mithrais when her memories of the Cardassian attact
threatened to overwhelm her.  But Troi couldn't know that.
     "I also know that you've been reliving your memories of
Cardassia, and that Q really gave you a shoulder to lean on."
     "You have to stop doing that!"  Mithrais said, half-
seriously.
     "Doing what?"  Troi stuck the flower behind her ear where it
poked out into midair.
     "Reading my mind!"  Mithrais swatted Troi lightly on the
arm.  "Damn, Deanna!  How did you know?"
     "Q isn't all bad--he's very complex, very difficult to get
to know." Troi nodded, setting the flower to bobbing up and down.
"You have to realise that what you're feeling for him right now
is what anybody would feel in your situation."  Troi laid a
comforting hand on Mithrais's shoulder. "So stop feeling so bad
about it." Troi brightened. "Hey, at least Q's omnipotent--try
skating around Klingon ideals of Honor and Justice and see where
you get."  Troi was referring to her own relationship with Worf.
     Mithrais nodded, laughing. "I can see where that would be a
challenge!"  She stuck out her hand, and Troi yanked her to her
feet.  Standing, Mithrais's taller, stockier figure nearly
dwarfed petite Troi.  'Maybe that's why I'd rather talk to Dee
sitting down,' Mithrais mused.  'At least then I don't feel like
a goddamn building next to her!'
     "You don't look like a building."
     "Deanna!"


     "Sorry!"  The pretty counselor colored in embarrassment.
"I'd better go--I have a batch of afternoon appointments--you
know where to find me if you need me."  She patted Mithrais
gently on the arm and exited the holodeck.
     Mithrais watched her go, savoring the warm feeling that
talking with Troi always gave her.  Troi was so good to talk to--
especially for Anna Mithrais, who didn't have many female
friends. Some things, you just needed another woman's
perspective.
     Mithrais mentally shook herself, and started down the hill.
She could have ordered the computer to discontinue the
simulation, and just walk out of the holodeck, but she wanted the
physical challenge of negotiating the steep hillside before
returning to the pristine world of the Enterprise.

     "Attach docking clamps."  Commander William Riker watched
the docking on the main viewscreen, his bottom lip caught between
his teeth.  No matter how many successful manual dockings he
witnessed, he could never relax fully when one was in progress.
There was always that moment of tension, before the massive
clamps locked into place, when anything--he was certain--could go
wrong.
     "Docking clamps locking....now!"  Data's long fingers danced
over his board at Ops, correcting the minute details of manual
docking.
     "Re-engage life support and computer control to saucer
section."  Riker stood behind Data's chair, his foot propped up
against the partition.  "Computer, record manual docking
successful, authorisation Riker Omega Three."
     "Manual docking complete."  The female voice of the computer
dutifully recorded the event without emotion.
     "Sir."  Data swiveled his chair around to speak to Riker,
his big, golden eyes utterly guileless.  Riker had known Data
long enough now to know that look.
     "Yes, Mister Data?"
     "I am presenting a scene from Shakespeare's The Tempest this
evening on Holodeck Three.  I would appreciate it if you could
attend."
     Riker mentally groaned--to be subjected to yet another of
Data's forays into classical theatre!  God bless him, he tried,
but his efforts were not always rewarded with a convincing
realism.  Riker tried to muster up some enthusiasm.
     "Of course, Data!  I would be honored!  What time is the
blessed event?" Ouch!  That probably sounded sarcastic!
     "Sir..."  Data's pale brow furrowed. "Am I to understand
that you do not wish to attend?"
     Damn! "Of course, I'd love to be there!"  Riker wheeled
away, coming face-to-face with Worf, towering over the bridge
from his station at Tactical.  Worf looked like something that
had been carved from granite and left to weather in the sun.
"Love to--wouldn't miss it."
     Worf grunted. "Indeed."
     "Then I can count on your attendance as well, Mister Worf?"

From: bb106@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (JoAnne Soper-Cook)
Subject: Even More Q...
Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

Data's face brightened in that little-boy look they all knew so
well.
     Worf grunted.  To Riker, it sounded as if he'd gotten hold
of some bad Rokeg Blood Pie and was having trouble keeping it
down....

     Anna Mithrais stepped off the turbolift, reporting for her
duty shift in Sickbay.  She had watched the manual docking of the
saucer section, heard the great clamps locking into place.  A
ship such as the Enterprise was required to perform regular
manual docking drills.  In the event of an actual "incident" the
saucer section of the ship could be removed and reattached with a
minimum of fuss.  And, she knew, Picard preferred all operations
aboard ship to be that way.
     "Good morning, Doctor Crusher."  Mithrais went to her duty
station and started reviewing the morning's O.R. lists: Two
tissue repair series, a bone-knit, (Ensign Botenedes diving off
the cliffs of Heaven on the holodeck again) a couple of
exploratories, and a routine physical for Commander Riker.
Mithrais grinned--that Beverly!  How in space had she ever
managed to get Riker into Sickbay?  The handsome Alaskan's
distaste for anything medical was nearly legendary aboard ship.
     "Morning, Mithrais--want a coffee?"  Alyssa Ogawa, a pretty
Asian nurse tapped Mithrais's shoulder lightly as she passed.
Alyssa was pregnant, and glowing.
     "Oh, sure--thanks, Alyssa.  How's Junior?"  She patted
Ogawa's tummy as the two women stood talking.
     "Just fine--except for playing Parisi Squares on my ribs,
everything's looking great."  Ogawa's dark eyes regarded Mithrais
over the rim of the cup.  "I hear you've got a hot new romance on
the table."
     Mithrais's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her bangs. "Who
told you that?!"  She shook her head.  "God!  Talk about a ship's
grapevine."
     Ogawa laughed.  "So--who is he?"
     Mithrais blinked, sighed in derision. "Nobody--what have you
heard?"
     "Only that you were seen in Ten-Forward with some tall, dark
handsome so on and so forth...."
     "That was Q."
     Ogawa stared.  "Q?  You can't be serious!"
     Mithrais shook her head, a little impatiently.  Alyssa was
sweet, and a fabulous nurse, but she could be a notorious gossip.
"No, you don't understand.  Q was the one who helped me get that
epidemic under control on Menos Two.  I was just having a cup of
tea with him--I wanted to thank him, on behalf of everyone, for
his help.  Really, we couldn't have gotten nearly as much done,
if he hadn't shown up when he did."
     Ogawa nodded.  "Ahhh.  So you and Q don't have a thing
going?"
     "How can anybody have a 'thing' for Q?  He's not human--
oops, here comes the boss!"  Mithrais gave Ogawa a little push to
send her on her way.  Crusher was crossing the floor of Sickbay.
"Doctor--I want to ask you about this regen series on gerh-Goki-
Tnan.  The medical files say he's in for some regeneration of the
fourth intercostal membranes, lying anteriorly to the peritoneum.
I'm concerned about going that close to the peritoneum in a
Theskian--won't that increase the internal fluidic pressure in
the abdominal cavity?"
     Crusher scanned the padd briefly, her lips pursed in an
expression of concentration.  "You might want to do a scan series
first--see how the flow rate of the internal fluids are routed
around the peritoneum--they're all different, these Theskians."
Crusher peered at Mithrais for a moment.
     "Is there something else, Doctor?"  Mithrais could feel that
Crusher was hesitating over saying what was so obviously on her
mind.
     "This may seem...petty, especially coming from your superior
officer, but--"  Crusher chewed her lower lip, her lovely green
eyes distracted. "How in space did you end up in the ready room
like that?"
     Mithrais felt a hot flush creeping up her neck.  "It was Q--
"
     Crusher nodded, a smile playing around the edges of her
lips. "I'm so embarrassed...."  She ducked her head and giggled,
seeming for a moment to be a charming schoolgirl.
     MIthrais laid a hand on Crusher's arm. "Please, Doctor
Crusher--don't be embarrassed on my account."  She paused,
wondering how to frame the next statement. "I mean--everybody
here really likes you, and wants you to be happy.  And I've
suspected for awhile now that you and the Captain were more than
merely friends."  Mithrais squeezed the older woman's arm
lightly.  "So let's say no more about it--I, for one, am very
happy that you've found someone you can love as much as you loved
your husband.  And I know that the Captain--although he may be
somewhat reticent about his feelings, cares for you just as
much."
     Crusher grinned.  "You know, Anna--you might just toss Troi
out of a job one of these days."
     Mithrais laughed. "Oh,no!  I wouldn't dare come between Dee
and her work--she might come after me, strangle me with her
pantyhose or something!"
     Crusher laughed heartily at that.  Then, sobering, leaned
closer to Mithrais and in a confidential tone, asked, "Are
you...er...'involved' with Q, by any chance?"
     Mithrais felt her brows knit in the center.  "You're the
second person to ask me that today, and I've only been on duty
for half an hour!"  She sighed, took a deep breath to calm
herself.  "This is getting way out of hand.  I'd love to know
who's been spreading that story--I just had tea with him in Ten-
Forward, to thank him for all his help on Menos Two."
     Crusher frowned. "Hmm," she mused, "that's odd."
     Mithrais looked up from the padd in her hand. "Hmm?"  She
had momentarily been distracted, ordering a scan series for her
Theskian patient.
     "Q told the Captain that he found you very intriguing."
     Mithrais snorted. "Q says that about everything--it's one of
his favorite phrases--that and how much everybody "wounds" him."
She put down the padd.  "Look--don't tell anyone, but he kissed
me in the Holodeck.  That's all.  Then he disappeared."
     Crusher's eyes twinkled. She's so beautiful, Mithrais
thought wistfully, I'd love to look like Beverly does.
     "He kissed you? Mithrais, I'm discovering a whole new side
of you that I never knew before.  It's...refreshing!"  With that,
Crusher tapped Anna lightly on the shoulder and said, "Get that
Theskian down here and run those scans--if the fluidic pressure
is allright, go ahead with the procedure.  Alyssa will help you
with prep."  The doors to Sickbay swished open, and Crusher's
tall, elegant frame disappeared into the corridor.
     Mithrais sighed and set about whittling the day's workload
down to a manageable level.


     That evening, there was a reception on Holodeck Five for a
visiting Tholian ambassador.  Mithrais wasn't too enthusiastic
about going, but at the last minute recanted her decision, and
hopped in the shower.  She gave herself a perfunctory washing,
spending the minimum amount of time required to be presentable.
     When she got out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, Q was
waiting for her in the other room. Mithrais walked the perimeter
of the room, her gaze never leaving him.  He was lying across her
bed, leaning up on one elbow, wearing a Starfleet dress uniform--
admiral's rank.  Leave it to Q....
     "What are you doing here?" She sat on the edge of the bed
nearest him and began brushing out her hair.
     Q leaned forward, one long-fingered hand coming up to touch
her bare shoulder.  He traced a trickle of water that was running
down out of her hair, caught it on his fingertip. Mithrais felt
the pit of her stomach quiver, felt a moist heat begin, low in
her belly.  "Did you miss me?"  Q's dark eyes were playful,
twinkling, their expression masking a deadly earnestness.
     "I've been busy."
     "Don't toy with me, my dear."  His hands were on her arms,
pulling her down on the bed beside him. He rolled onto his back,
his momentum taking her with him until she way lying full-length
against his body.
     "I'm getting you all wet--"  Her protest was cut off mid-
sentence as Q tangled his hands in her wet hair and pulled her
closer, covering her mouth with his.
     "You are getting me a lot more than all wet," he murmured,
and Mithrais felt something in the centre of her chest burst with
a small, hot pop. She slid her hands up his red-clad arms and
around his neck, kissing him deeply, feeling the delicious heat
rising up from her abdomen, encasing all her limbs in a hazy
glow. She couldn't quite believe this: here she was, wrapped in a
towel--
     --make that, not wrapped in a towel--
     --naked--
     and clinging to a very desirable, exciting, and sensual
individual who was, merely by the strength of his kisses, making
her feel something that she thought she would never feel again.
     "You are quite a piece of work."  Anna Mithrais murmured,
against his neck.  He was warm, and smelled...sexy, exciting.
     "I am the ultimate piece of work."  Q rolled her gently off
him, so that she was lying beside him on the bed.  He bent his
head and caught a stray trickle of water with his tongue as his
hands cupped her full breasts.  "I missed you, you know.  All
this darting to and fro in the universe really takes it out of
me."

     "I have something important to tell you, Q."  Mithrais
raised herself up on her elbow to look into his dark eyes.
     Q's expression changed. "Please don't tell me you are going
to have a child--I will not go through that willingly again with
another woman, I swear--"
     Mithrais stopped the flood of words with her palm against
his lips. "I'm falling in love with you."
     He relaxed. "Oh."  He peered more closely at her. "Oh!"  He
snapped his fingers, and the uniform he was wearing disappeared
into the ethers.
     Mithrais moaned softly as she felt his strong, lean body
sliding over her own.  She pressed herself close to him and
wrapped one smooth leg around him. "I do love you."
     Q smiled, looking for all the world (from Mithrais's vantage
point) like a mischevous little boy. "I know you do."  He
captured her mouth in a long, fiery kiss, his artful tongue
tracing the edges of her lips. When he drew away, his visage had
changed:  he looked very vulnerable, a vulnerability that verged
on sadness. "I was in love once--a long time ago, admittedly--and
out of that union there was born a child, a son."  Q felt the
old, vicious grief welling up from that place in his chest and
bit down on his bottom lip. "When her--my--son by his actions
endangered the existence of the Universe, I had to destroy him."
     Mithrais felt a sharp jab in her chest.
     "I do not give my affections lightly, Anna--I want you to
realise what this means.  When you turn your affections to one of
the Q, it is much more than a mere fling with some...wet-behind-
the-ears ensign under one of the warp nacelles!"
     Mithrais laughed. "I've never had an assignation under a
warp nacelle with anybody!"  She ran her fingers through Q's dark
hair. "I know how difficult it is for you to give your love--but
I know you love me. You loved me from the very beginning."
     Q nodded. "Yes.  I do love you--and I want to give me
everything, you heart's desire."  His expression changed to a
wicked grin.  "And I would very much love to attend that
illustrious gathering this evening, but first--"  He drew a hand
down her side, bent his head to place a line of soft, gentle
kisses along the outside curve of her breast and up her inner
arm. "I would very much like to make love with you."  And then
there was nothing more to say, for his skilful hands were drawing
caresses along her skin, and Anna Mithrais was gently-but-
blissfully wrapping her body around him, and soon there was
silence in her quarters as she made love with Q.


     Troi picked another shrimp puff from the tray as the Bolian
waiter went by.  She really shouldn't, but they were so good--
lightly battered, crispy. "Here, Worf, try one of these."
     The tall Klingon beside her grunted.  Worf was in his dress
uniform, as were all the bridge officers, and he looked very
nice. "That is food for a child!"
     Troi poked him in the stomach. "Oh, don't be ridiculous."
She stepped forward as an anti-grav went by, covered in desserts
of all types and persuasions. "Oh, look! Chocolate!"  And she
went off to indulge.  What the hell, she reasoned.  So it would
be another ten laps in the pool, another hour on that damned step
machine....
     Beverly Crusher, standing near the salad bar with the
Captain, turned as the doors of the Holodeck swished open.  She
grinned at Alyssa and her husband, turned back to the Captain.
     "Oh my God!"  Beverly gasped.  She nearly spilled her drink.
"Can you believe it?"
     Picard was looking at her with the expression of a man in
the presence of someone possessed. "What on earth...? Doctor?"
     Then he saw it. "Q!"
     Beverly followed that with, "and Anna Mithrais!"
     And it was true: standing in the corner of the room,
underneath an arrangement of Tholian pines, were Q and Commander
Mithrais.  Q, as was his wont, was dressed in the uniform of a
Starfleet Admiral.  Mithrais wore a deep jade off-the-shoulder
gown.
     They were kissing.
     Not openly, or vulgarly, or in a way that could be construed
as public display:  Mithrais was standing in front of Q, he had
his arms around her waist, and they were kissing gently, but with
(from the looks of it) great enjoyment.
     Picard turned back to Crusher, who had a certain look in her
eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Jean-Luc, but is that not my
nurse and your..."
     "Correct, Doctor."  Picard was flabbergasted.  Not that Q
had chosen Mithrais, she was a lovely young woman.  But to think
that Q was actually capable of affection...
     "Looks like he's pretty good at it, I might add."  Crusher's
voice held a hint of ill-concealed amusement at Picard's
discomfort.
     "Doctor!"
     "You know, Jean-Luc, I'm only a physician, and not
especially skilled in matters of the psyche--that's Deanna's
job."  Crusher's voice was carefully level. "But I would have to
say that Anna Mithrais and Q definitely have the appearence of
two people who have recently become--"
     It hit Picard like a phaser blast. "Intimate," he croaked,
feeling a trickle of cold sweat between his shoulder blades.
"With a member of my crew!"  He turned to Crusher in panic.
"He'll be on the ship forever--getting in the way, getting in my
hair--"
     Crusher snickered. "Might I point out--"
     "You may not!"  Picard yanked on the front of his uniform.
"I'll never get rid of him, he'll always be around, he'll never
leave!"
     Picard and Crusher turned as the Tholian ambassador, a
cheerful-looking humanoid, and his entourage, came up to greet
them.  The Tholian, well over two metres in height, thumped
Picard on the shoulder in a jocular fashion. "I say, Pick-ard!
That admiral of yours--he got some female, eh?"  The ambassador
laughed heartily, his great girth shaking. "What a sly devil,
eh?"
     Picard grimaced, at the fearful thumping he was getting, if
nothing else. "Devil--that's exactly what he is!"
     And from inside his head, a familiar voice was echoing:
     Now, Now, Jean-Luc! Don't be jealous!

                         THE END!

Rebel Without A Q!
July 15, 1994
A. Rex


Anna Mithrais, Personal Log:
     I was standing naked in front of the mirror in my quarters.
It's something I do regularly.  Deanna Troi--that's my
psychologist--says it will help me to bond with my body and stop
living so much in my head.
     Yeah, right.
     So anyway, here I am standing in front of my mirror.  Full-
length, of course, nothing but the very best from ship's stores
for the one and only Anna Mithrais. What am I seeing?
     You can't be serious!
     Mid-twenties, Caucasian female, dark brown hair (currently
wavy) and hazel-green eyes.  Pudgy short nose, face covered in
light gold freckles. Round cheeks, small mouth.  A unicorn charm,
23-carat gold, hanging from the right earlobe. (People think I'm
Bajoran until they see my nose.)
     The body? Well, that's why Deanna had me in front of the
mirror.  A large-boned but compact frame, short arms, but
shapely, well-muscled legs (thank the ship's gymnasium for that),
elegant feet.  I liked the shape and size of my breasts, but that
was it.  My belly was a little too soft for my liking
(correction: a lot too soft) and my butt was out of the question.
I remembered discussing this with Deanna at our last session.
     "Exactly what is it you don't like about your body, Anna?"
Deanna was pouring tea while she said this, dressed in one of
those daring, knock-your-eye-out dresses that were barely
regulation. And she looked, as usual, gorgeous. This was already
depressing me enough.
     "My butt should have its own space-map," I said sourly.  I
was getting really depressed now:  Deanna was sitting opposite
me, sipping her tea demurely, and her lithe, slender legs were
crossed delicately.  I felt like a building next to her.
     "Why do you say these things?"
     "Because they're true, Deanna."  I was getting exasperated
with this line of questioning.
     "Do you really believe that?"
     I got up from the couch and started pacing around the room.
"Look, Deanna--we've had this discussion before, many times!  You
know what happened to me on Cardassia, and you know what it did
to my sexuality, and yes, dammit, I'm rejecting my feminity, and
that probably makes me some kind of sicko!"  I threw up my hands
in exasperation. "I'm probably an awful example of what Starfleet
expects from its' officers."
     Troi was silent for a long moment, her deep, soulful eyes
far-off.  When she spoke, her voice was softer, quieter. "You
know, you remind me of another young woman we had on board--some
time ago.  She also had the misfortune of being--mishandled--at
an earlier juncture in her life.  And like you, she too suffered
from a disjointed sexuality, and was forever rejecting her
femininity.  It was very difficult for her to see her body as
something wonderful and beautiful.  I still don't know if she
ever did come to some kind of peace with herself."
     I turned from my examination of a Betazoid artifact to look
at Troi. "What do you mean?  Did she transfer off the ship or
something?"
     Troi bit her bottom lip. "Tasha was killed some years back."
     I gasped. "Tasha Yar?"
     Troi nodded. "Normally, I wouldn't share that kind of
information about another client.  But you and Tasha are so much
alike,  and since she's gone now, I thought that hearing her
story might help you to see that you are not alone in this
belief."
     I was dumbfounded--actually speechless for a moment, which
is a first for me. "I can't believe you just compared me to Tasha
Yar.  Is that how you actually see me?"
     Again, the Betazoid counsellor nodded. "Yes.  And like
Tasha, you must learn to accept your femininity."
     "And I'm not going to do that until I accept the way I look,
right?"
     Troi rose and put her hand on my shoulder. "It's not as hard
as you think, Anna--give it a chance."



     So here I was, in my quarters, looking in the mirror. It was
making me pretty depressed.  So I grabbed my flannel robe--the
one that covers all the bumps and bulges--and got myself a pot of
tea out of the replicator.
     I tried to read a book-tape, then some music, and even a
hypnotic induction that Deanna had taught me, but nothing worked.
I couldn't relax.  I was just too keyed-up--angry, really--over
my own reflection in the mirror.  And that was too crazy for
words.
     "Damn, damn, damn--"  I got up and started walking around my
quarters, which wasn't very far; meeting the wall and pacing back
the opposite way.  I could see a reflection of my face in the
clearsteel windows that lined one wall of my quarters.  Yuk....
     (End of recording.)


     ...There she was! There she was, and if she'd only stay in
front of that mirror just a second longer...
     Damn! That damned flannel robe again.  Really, this was
insufferable!
     The being entertaining those thoughts drifted closer to the
port side of the Enterprise, and peered invisibly through the
cleersteel windows.  Anna Mithrais--that was her name--couldn't
see or hear him, which was fortunate.  What was even more
fortunate was this new directive from Troi--a grain of sense, the
being thought, in her usual spate of meaningless psychobabble.
It was important that Mithrais acquaint herself with her own
skin, her...the being invisibly smiled...cosy curves.  For,
unbeknownst to either Mithrais or Troi, this particular invisible
being knew what had happened to Mithrais on Cardassia...and he
grieved.  He'd been watching her for awhile, this woman--very
intriguing.  She definitely merited further study.  And Q--that
was his name--was very definitely interested in studying her.
     Not, however, a concern of the moment, when the summons
came, as it so often did of late:
     *Q!*
     *Yes?* (Mental eye-rolling)
     *Return!*
     *All right.* (Damn!)


     Mithrais was up early the next morning, even before the
computer's chime had time to wake her.  She had spent a restless
night, hardly sleeping at all, but instead tossing and turning in
the sheets, willing the hours away.
     Her first order of business was to hop into the sonic
shower, to get herself energized and ready for the day.  As a
psychiatric nurse, Mithrais was often called upon in Doctor
Crusher's stead, to tend patients with severe emotional upset.
She needed to be constantly on her toes, so to speak.  Sickbay
was a very busy place.
     She allowed herself an extra five minutes under the sonics
this morning, to loosen up muscles that were sore from her
sleepless tossing, before switching to water and soaping up. She
was thinking about Counselor Troi's advice of yesterday, and
wondered, with a sort of detached despair, if she would ever
accept her body again.  Somehow, Mithrais doubted it.  Before the
shuttle had crashed, tossing her into the hands of the
Cardassians, she had always maintained a healthy respect for her
body, gave it what it needed to thrive.  That habit had faded,
and try as she might, it was very difficult to re-instate it.
     So this morning, against her own better judgement, she was
going to the gym.  She heard that the ship had a really good
calisthenics program, led by Lieutenant Worf.  Troi, as well as
Beverly Crusher had recommended it as an excellent start to the
day.  'At the very least,' Mithrais thought, 'I'll get this damn
exercise thing out of the way and I won't have to worry about
it.'
     She arrived at the gymnasium as Deanna and Beverly were
beginning their warmup stretches.  "Hello, Anna--care to join
us?"  Beverly beckoned her over to where she and Troi had
commandeered a square of the gym.  "It helps if you warm up
first," Troi offered, effortlessly bending her supple frame into
a variety of postures that Mithrais could only hope to imitate in
her wildest dreams. Beverly Crusher led Mithrais in some gentler
beginning stretches that were designed to limber up the muscles
and get the blood flowing.
     "How does that feel?"  The pretty doctor probed.
     Mithrais stretched her arms high overhead and flexed,
feeling the pull in her back, sides, and shoulders.  "Pretty
good, actually," she said, wonderingly.  So far, so good.  Now to
see what Worf had to offer.

     Q was hovering near Mithrais, in the gymnasium, and had been
hovering over her for most of the morning since she got up out of
bed.  He liked watching her, but didn't dare risk making himself
visible, at least not at this early juncture. He had decided some
time ago that he would eventually introduce himself to her, but
the timing had to be perfect. He knew mostly everything there was
to know about her.  Including that incident with the Cardassians.
     Q had always considered himself a mentally sturdy sort of
entity--as all of the Q Continuum were.   He was not easily
disturbed, having been 'around the block' a time or two, as the
saying goes.  But when he had percieved the facts of Anna
Mithrais's rape at the hands of those Cardassians, he had been
very disturbed, for a very long time--and saddened.  He would
never have admitted to any kind of altruistic impulses, but upon
discovering these truths about Anna Mithrais, he was taken with a
sudden, deep need--almost an obsession--to so something for her.
     That had been a problem, figuring out what, exactly, he
could do.  He would have to ensure it would be something she
wanted, something she would appreciate, yet it had to be
something that would not attract the interest of Picard or any
other of the various dullards that roamed the ship at will.  (It
wouldn't do, Q thought, for Picard to think he'd found a
vulnerability.) The best way to find out what she wanted, Q
thought, was to observe her for a while.
     Normally, he had a fixed idea about the humanoid races,
which differed very little from person to person.  Most he held
in little or no regard, some amused him, and some humans scared
him deeply.  But Anna Mithrais affected him differently, since
the first time Q had--without her knowledge--encountered her.
     Just look at her--her round, earnest face with those big
green eyes.... Q smiled unseen.  'I want to cherish you,' he
whispered to the air, and still unseen, drifted back to the
Continuum to fashion a plan.

     (Anna Mithrais's Personal Log) God! What a day!  I cannot
believe that dippy Ensign Naylor from Botany was in to Sickbay
again today!  I think she just does it so Doctor S'Task will
notice her--everybody knows she has a 'thing' for Vulcans.  Oh,
she's such a bitch!  Asking me if I'd mind doing her routine
physical over again, since she was sure I'd missed something the
last time.  I was miffed, I can tell you!  Too bad she didn't
have a big old brain tumour. Maybe I'd miss it on purpose, just
to get rid of her!
     (sound of someone sighing) That's not very nice, though, is
it?  And I'm supposed to be a nurse, the model of compassion.  I
don't know what's gotten into me lately.  I'm not sleeping very
well, either--I keep waking up around the same time every night.
Probably that Cardassian thing again.  I'll never get over that!
I guess I should see Troi about it, but I really don't think
that's helping much either.  I just don't know.
     Lieut. Deski is getting married!  She told us all this
morning at work.  Of course, I'm happy for her--she and Doug will
be very happy, I know. I just wonder if I'm going to be alone for
the rest of my life.  God! Maybe if I make a wish, some
benevolent deity will send me a tall dark and handsome!
Ha! I wish!--not in my wildest dreams.
(end of recording.)

     Anna Mithrais turned from her personal log recorder, with an
expression of bewilderment.  She probably was really tired, she
reasoned, but she could have sworn that she felt someone standing
behind her as she recorded her log entry.  But that was
ridiculous!
     She got up from her desk and went into her bedroom to
change.
     There was a single, long-stemmed pink rose on her bed.
     "Huh?"
     Upon hearing this little exclamation of surprise, the
invisible Q grinned.
     Mithrais reached out and picked up the rose, inhaling its'
delicate fragrance. Beautiful.... But where did it come from?
Wait--there was a note attached:
     "I have watched you and know that you are the soul of
beauty. Please accept this as a small token of my infinite regard
for you."  It wasn't signed, so Mithrais had no idea where it had
come from.
     But she felt a surge of pleasure, nonetheless, and a soft
blush suffused her smooth cheeks. Impulsively, she glanced around
her quarters to reassure herself that there really was nobody
there.  She couldn't believe that this rose had just been
deposited here.  Who in space would give her a rose?  She walked
quickly to the door of her quarters, noted that the privacy lock
was still engaged. "Computer--has anyone other than myself been
in my quarters in the past twelve hours?"
     "No one other than Commander Anna Mithrais has entered these
quarters in the past twelve hours," the computer recited
dutifully.
     "Hmm...that's odd."  Mithrais held the rose to her cheek,
stroking her face with its soft petals. "Where did this come
from?"
     *You have no idea, do you, my dear?*  This thought from Q,
hovering invisibly nearby.
     Mithrais fetched a bud vase and stood the flower near her
bed, where she could look at it. "Probably just a joke," she
reasoned, and turned out the lights.

     Counsellor Deanna Troi was in her quarters preparing for bed
when the doorchime sounded.  She was surprised that someone would
be calling at this hour--it was 2300 hours, after all. "Who is
it?" she called suspiciously.
     "Counsellor Troi, I have need of your assistance in a
most...delicate matter."
     Wait a minute!  She knew that voice!  Troi went to the door
and opened, and her suspicions stood there in a Starfleet
Captain's uniform. "Q!"
     The man whom Troi had addressed as Q offered a courtly bow.
"Please forgive me, my dear lady, for disturbing you at so late
an hour.  I know how you humanoids require sleep.  But I wish to
avail of your professional opinion, if I might?"
     Troi blinked. "You need psychotherapy?"  And to herself she
thought, 'You need psychotherapy!'
     Q pursed his lips, an expression of deep amusement. "Oh, of
course not--nothing of the sort. May I come in?"
     Troi stood back and allowed him to enter.
     The man called Q was tall, and slim, but had broad
shoulders, his hair was dark and wavy, with a touch of grey at
the temples, and his face was narrow, his cheekbones well-
defined.  His eyes were dark and fringed with long lashes.  He
strolled around Troi's quarters, picking things up and examining
them.  Although Troi couldn't read him, she had known Q long
enough now to sense that he wanted a favour from her.
     "Of course, you're absolutely correct in that, my dear
Counsellor."  He was reading her mind. "I would like you to
introduce me to Anna Mithrais."
     Troi poured herself some Y'ridian tea, took her time in
replying. "Is this some kind of joke?"
     Q dismissed this with a gesture. "Oh, I assure you, I have
nothing but her best interests at heart. I have been observing
her for some time now.  For the most part, the activity has left
me..."  Q paused, his dark gaze turning inward for a moment.
"...saddened."  He fixed Troi with a look. "I think she needs
some enthusiastic male companionship in her life! The woman
practically leads a convent existence!"
     Troi's finely-etched brows came together in the center.  "Am
I to understand you want to do something nice for Anna?"
     Q nodded.
     "The last person you did something 'nice' for was the
captain--you landed him, his friend Vash, and the rest of the
bridge crew in tenth-century England!"  Troi came closer and
peered up at him. "Is that the kind of thing you have in mind for
her?"
     Q frowned.  Trust Troi to bring that up. "Not at all--and
might I add, I returned your precious captain to the ship
unscathed!"
     Troi snorted. "And took off with Vash."
     Q was beginning to get mildly annoyed--not a good thing on
any day. "I offered her a chance to travel throughout the galaxy
with me, and she accepted it. It was an arrangement that was
mutually satisfying."
     "I'll bet it was."
     Q's face darkened. "Woman--do not toy with me! You forget
that I have the means to deprive you of just about anything you
possess, including your life!"
     Troi was the soul of calm as she faced down Q's bluster. "I
realise that."  She took a deep breath, decided to hear him out,
and indicated the couch behind her. "Please, won't you have a
seat?"
     Q yanked on the front of his uniform tunic, and sat
wordlessly.  Troi poured some of the Y'ridian tea into a second
cup, passed it to him.
     "Let's just put aside for a moment all the other encounters
we've had with you, Q, and pretend--for argument's sake--that you
are sincere in this."  Troi adopted a relaxed pose.  "Why are you
interested in Anna Mithrais? The truth, for a change, please!"
     Q took a sip of the tea, made a face. "Ugh--what is this
stuff?"  He laid the cup down on the low table in front of him,
turned to face Troi.  "I feel...badly for her.  I realize that
she has had an unfortunate life.  What makes it even more
unfortunate is that she has so many exemplary qualities, which I
wouldn't expect to find in a human.  And she doesn't see them!
She has such an intense dislike for herself.  Her life is so
empty!  It bothers me, like a nagging ache, it bothers me!  I've
been watching her, and I feel that a little nonthreatening male
companionship would do her the world of good!"
     Troi's tone was dry when she spoke. "And you, of course, are
the ideal candidate to spice up Anna's life?"
     "I believe so."
     Troi got up and began pacing the length of the small living
room, something she did when she was thinking. "Am I to
understand that you consider yourself a nonthreatening male
figure?"
     Q nodded.
     "Forgive me if this upsets you, Q, but you are possibly the
farthest thing from nonthreatening that has ever existed!  You're
the most dangerous person I know!"
     Q affected a coy face. "Really, Counsellor, there's no need
for such flattery.  You embarrass me!"
     "You are the one individual in this universe who is capable
of destroying Anna Mithrais, and you propose to insert yourself
into her life as her devoted swain?"  Troi threw her hands in the
air. "Forgive me if I find that a little hard to swallow."
     Q stood up.  "Do you really?"  He made a small gesture, and
Troi's expression changed.  The hostility on her face simply slid
off.  She walked over to where Q was standing, slid her hands up
his arms.
     "I never realised how handsome you are," the beautiful
Betazoid murmured.  "How strong, and capable."  She leaned into
him and slipped her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "Kiss
me..."
     Q snapped his fingers, and Troi came to herself to realise
where she was and what she was about to do. She disentangled
herself with a gasp and pushed Q away from her. "What did you do
to me?"
     "Merely a demonstration, Counsellor."
     Troi's face bore an expression of disgust. "Did I...kiss
you?"
     Q vacillated for a moment, wondering if the truth would be
the most useful in this situation. "No, you did not--I prevented
it.  But you can see, Counsellor, that you yourself reacted to
me.  Is it so hard to believe that I could be attractive--and
attracted to--someone like Anna Mithrais?"
     "Not if you're going to use your powers to coerce her, of
course not!"  Troi was horrified: was that what Q had in mind?
Because if it was, she would use every means at her disposal to
deflect his interest in Anna.  There was no way in space that she
would allow her friend to be victimized again.
     "I'm not going to harm her, Deanna."  Q was sitting opposite
her on the couch again. "I only want to give her something she
has never had: someone who cares for her, and wants to make her
happy."  To Troi's astonishment, his dark eyes filled with tears.
"She is one of the most worthy humans I have ever met."
     "You're sincere, aren't you?"  For the first time ever,
Troi's empathic sense was getting a glimmering of Q's vast and
ancient consciousness.  "You really mean to help her, be her
friend."
     Q nodded. "Yes."
     "All right then--there's a ship-wide party this Saturday
evening in Ten Forward.  If you attend, I'll be there with Anna
and I'll introduce you."
     Q rose to his feet.  "I thank you, Counsellor, from the
bottom of my considerable heart!"  The doors swished open and
shut, and he was gone.
     Troi's heart was hammering in her ears, and she was aware
that her skin was humming with a definite excitement.  He hadn't
kissed her, but part of her almost wished he had.  It was very
odd, the way he had affected her, but not beyond his considerable
powers, Troi supposed.  Still, the very idea that she could be
attracted to Q was one that needed further study.

     Anna Mithrais was charting some plasma growth rates in
Sickbay when her communicator beeped.  She looked up in
irritation at having been distracted. "Troi to Commander
Mithrais."
     "Mithrais here--go ahead, Deanna."
     "I was wondering if you could stop by my office after your
duty shift ends.  There's something I wish to discuss."
     Mithrais was puzzled.  "Of course, Deanna--I'm done here in
about an hour."
     "Fine, I'll see you then."
     Hmm, that was odd, Mithrais mused.  She couldn't fathom why
Troi would want to see her.  Surely there wasn't something
dreadfully wrong with her, some mental anomaly that Troi's
earlier examinations had overlooked?  Mithrais pushed this
threatening thought away.  That wouldn't be it, anyway.  She was
a psychiatric nurse and would certainly pick up on any aberrant
behavior in herself.
     "How's it going?"  Beverly Crusher was standing behind
Mithrais.  "Getting through it?"
     "Huh?"  Mithrais looked up, still lost in her thoughts. "Oh!
Doctor Crusher--I'm sorry, I didn't see you there.  Ah, yeah,
these samples are almost finished."  She slid a tray of petri
dishes into a covered bin and snapped the lid shut.
     "Was that Deanna I heard calling you just now?"  Crusher was
entering some computer files into the diagnostic panels that were
mounted on the wall above Mithrais's workstation.
     "Yes--she asked if I'd stop by her office when my duty shift
is over."  Mithrais finished charting the rest of the samples and
stored them in a bin with the others.  "There--all done."
     Crusher smiled down at her from her standing position near
the wall.  "Listen, Anna: you've put in a good cycle's worth of
work.  Why don't you knock off early?  There's nothing here that
Alyssa and I can't handle."
     "Really?"  Mithrais felt self-conscious.  Perhaps Crusher
was letting her go early because she thought there might be
something really wrong that Troi wanted to discuss.  "Counsellor
Troi didn't say it was urgent or anything."
     "Don't be ridiculous.  There's hardly enough work here for
all of us--and you've earned a little break.  Go ahead--it's the
end of cycle for you anyway."
     Mithrais got up, tidied her duty station and put her
diagnostic padds and her medical tricorder in the drawer. "All
right--you don't have to tell me twice!"  She patted Crusher's
arm amiably as she got up. "Thanks, Doc! I owe you one."
     "Seeya!"  Crusher turned back to her diagnostics.

     Troi was tending her office plants when Mithrais stopped by.
She stepped inside at Troi's summons and took a seat on the couch
while Troi finished picking the dead leaves off a philadendron.
When the counsellor had put away the watering container, she
poured some tea and took a seat opposite Mithrais.  "I suppose
you're wondering why I called you here?" Troi's level gaze
revealed nothing.
     Mithrais nodded.  "Kind of. I'm not...you know, going crazy
or anything, am I?"  She felt inexplicably foolish, exposed.
     Troi grinned. "Not at all. I'm sort of acting in the
capacity of matchmaker, you could say.  There's a gentleman of my
acquaintence who is very interested in meeting you."
     Mithrais felt her face burning. "Is there something wrong
with that?"  Troi asked, concerned.
     "Ah, no!  It's just that...."  Mithrais ducked her head,
away from Troi's incisive gaze.
     "Anna?  What is it?  You can tell me."
     Mithrais fluttered one hand in the air in front of her, a
gesture of frustration.  "Somebody gave me a rose."
     Troi's brows knit. "Somebody gave you a rose," she repeated.
"Well, that was nice of them."
     "I think so too, except I have no idea who did it!  I was
recording my personal log the other evening in my quarters, and
when I came out into my bedroom, there was a pink rose across the
pillow.  I asked the computer if anyone had entered my quarters,
and the response was negative."
     "Hmmm...that's very interesting.  Do you have any male
admirers?"
     Mithrais got up, began pacing the floor of Deanna's tidy
office. "Yeah, right!"  She said, bitterly, her voice limned with
pain.  Troi felt the throb of perceived emotions beginning in her
temples, was shocked at the pain that Mithrais was obviously
experiencing.  "Who in space would be interesed in me, Deanna?
Look at me, for gods sake! I'm big and clunky and stupid-looking,
and I have awful hair and freckles!  It's not as if I look like
you, or Doctor Crusher, or Alyssa!"  Mithrais bit her bottom lip
savagely. "Or even Gretchen Naylor! I'm ugly!"
     Troi was becoming very distressed by what she was hearing,
and feeling. "Hey, wait just a minute!"  She got up out of her
chair and put an arm around Mithrais's shoulders. "Anna! I had no
idea you felt this badly about yourself!  The last time we spoke,
you indicated to me that you were feeling better, and my empathic
senses also percieved this to be true.  Has something occured to
change your opinion of yourself?"
     "Whoever left that rose there probably did it as a nasty
joke!"
     "What makes you say that?"
     Mithrais wrenched free of Troi's grip.  "When I was a
teenager, I wasn't like the other girls!  I was big and gawky and
clumsy.  I never had any dates or any boyfriends.  There wasn't a
single boy in my school who would even bother with me.  The night
before our graduation, my father signed for a package at the
front door."  Mithrais was pacing again, her arms clasped about
herself for support.  Troi watched her keenly, interested in this
new Anna Mithrais that was being revealed to her. "It was a long,
white box, and my father naturally thought it was flowers.  Oh,
he was so happy for me!  I hadn't seen him smile like that since
Mum died! He handed me this box, and he was like a little kid, he
couldn't wait for me to open it up."
     Troi closed her eyes briefly. "What was in it, Anna?"  She
tried to keep her voice carefully neutral.
     Mithrais turned to Troi, her eyes cold and hard. "It was a
dead cat."  She emitted a bitter, mirthless laugh.  "With a note-
-I guess the poor thing had been hit by a groundcar or something.
The note said, 'Roses are red, violets are blue, here's someone
to go to the prom with you!'"
     Troi shuddered. "Oh, Anna, that's positively macabre.  Not
to mention cruel."
     Mithrais hid her face in her hands. "I bet somebody thought
it would be funny to put a rose in my quarters.  Whoever did it
is probably laughing his head off!"
     There was a brilliant flash of light,(that strangely didn't
alarm Troi) and when Mithrais looked up, a man in a Starfleet
Captain's uniform was standing in Troi's office.
     Troi immediately rose to the occasion. She stood up and took
the tall man by the elbow, led him over to where Mithrais was now
seated, and sat him down beside her.
     Mithrais looked at him for a long moment, her efficient
nurse's mind taking in every detail of his face. His wavy, dark
brown hair was tinged with grey at the temples, framing a
serious, narrow face.  His mouth was wide, with a full lower lip,
his eyes dark and intense.  Mithrais thought he was quite
handsome.
     "Anna Mithrais, I would like you to meet Q," Troi said.  "Q,
this is Anna Mithrais."
     Q leaned forward and took her hand, and he had eyes only for
her. "Hello, my dear," he said, and kissed her knuckles
gallantly. "I'm sorry that my token of affection distressed you
so."
     "You sent that rose?"  Mithrais was beyond shock.  This had
to be an exquisite dream.
     "I did indeed.  You see, my dearest Anna, I have been
watching you for some time now, and I must confess that I'm very
intrigued with you."
     Mithrais opened her dry mouth. "But--you're a Captain!"
     The man named Q laughed, revealing perfect white teeth and
charming dimples. "Not at all--this is merely an affection, in
order that I may blend in!"
     "Who are you?"
     Q stood up, still holding her hand. "Counsellor, may I?"
     Troi frowned. "May you what?"
     "Take Commander Mithrais on a little trip?"
     Mithrais looked from Troi to Q. "What's this?  I don't
understand what's going on here!"
     "You don't need to understand, my precious--just believe!"
     In a burst of light, Mithrais vanished with Q.

     Seconds later, when Mithrais rematerialized in Troi's
office, she was alone.  Troi was naturally curious. "Well?"
     For the first time in weeks, Mithrais was smiling. "Do you
know who he is?  Do you know where he comes from?  What he is?"
     "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."
     "And he's interested in me?"
     Troi nodded. "He is indeed."
     A look of panic crossed Mithrais's face.  "Oh, God!  He said
he'll come for me tonight--he's going to take me to some place
called Tau-Ti for the Festival of Masques. What am I going to
wear?"
     And she darted out of Troi's office.


     Mithrais was in her quarters, and in a quandry.  The man--
entity--that she had met earlier had told her that he would
return for her at ship's time 1900 hours.  It was 1800 now, and
so far, she had managed only to get herself showered.  Q had
instructed her not to eat anything, as "We will dine elegantly,
my dear, I assure you."  The problem was finding something to
wear.  Her own wardrobe was scanty, there not being any occasion
for fancy clothing, and all she had were her uniforms and some
casual off-duty clothing that was not at all suitable.
     In desperation, Mithrais tagged her communicator. "Mithrais
to Counselor Troi."
     The Betazoid counsellor's cheerful voice responded. "Troi
here."
     Mithrais sagged with relief. "Deanna, I'm in big trouble--I
haven't got a thing to wear!"
     "I'll be right there."  Troi closed the channel.
     Mithrais tagged her communicator again. "Mithrais to Doctor
Crusher."
     "Crusher here."  Beverly sounded relaxed for once; she must
have recently gone off-duty, Mithrais thought.
     "Doctor, I've just asked Troi for her help, and now I'm
asking you."
     "Anything, Anna, you know that."
     "Q is taking me out in an hour and I need serious help with
my wardrobe and my hair! Are you in?"
     Beverly giggled. "It'll be just like an old-fashioned
slumber party! I'll be right there, Anna!"
     Troi met Crusher in the turbolift.  "Are you headed for Anna
Mithrais's quarters?"  Troi asked, smiling.
     "You got the summons too, I gather?"  Crusher raised a
pretty copper eyebrow.
     Troi nodded. "Can you imagine though, Beverly--going on a
date with Q?"
     "Not really."  The doctor's green eyes were thoughtful.  "I
would imagine though, that he is very well versed in the courtly
graces."
     Troi suppressed a wanton frisson of excitement. "Among other
things."
     Crusher raised the eyebrow again. "Like what?"  When Troi
didn't answer, she peered closer at Troi. "Is there something you
aren't telling me, Deanna?"
     Troi sighed, rolled her eyes. "Q was in my quarters the
other night"
     Crusher's eyes got big and round. "Q?!  Are you serious?
What did he want?"
     "He wanted to talk to me about Anna Mithrais.  You know,
Beverly, for this once I think he might be sincere.  He seems
genuinely concerned for Anna, wants to help her."
     "I don't know--is this the same Q we're talking about?"
Crusher sounded unconvinced.
     "He almost kissed me--I mean, I almost let him."
     "Deanna!  What kind of talk was this?"
     Troi paused as the turbolift stopped to let them out. "You
do have to admit one thing, though, Beverly--when Q takes human
form, he is quite an attractive male."
     Crusher giggled. "Yeah--an attractive male what?"
     The two women went into Anna Mithrais's quarters.

     Forty-five minutes later, Mithrais was standing alone in
front of the mirror in her quarters.  Troi and Crusher had gone
to Ten-Forward for a Timarin Frost, and she had a few minutes to
review the progress that the three of them had made.
     Her dark, bobbed hair was gathered into a soft topknot,
coutesy of Doctor Crusher, and fastened with a jeweled pin that
Troi had loaned her.  Feathery tendrils escaped and brushed her
cheeks.  Her green eyes were lightly touched with golden shadow,
lined in black, and accented with three coats of Troi's black
mascara.  Her mouth was dyed a wine-blushed taupe with an
Andorian colorstick that Crusher had bought and never used.  She
made a gift of it to Anna.
     Troi and Crusher had both conspired with ship's stores for
the outfit:  a tall, cool column of Vulcan spidersilk in bottle
green, embroidered with opalescent inserts of Aldebaran night-
stones, which shimmered as she moved. Troi had ordered a pair of
flat sandals which laced up to her knees: "If he takes your dress
off, this will get him for sure," she had giggled.  Anna had
blushed deep scarlet in spite of herself.  She knew that both
Troi and Crusher had had many lovers, and that both women
indulged in a healthy sexuality that they were comfortable with.
She was much more inhibited.
     Still, she had to admit that she looked good.  "That dress
should impress even Q," Beverly said.
     Mithrais heard the door chime from the other room. "Damn!"
That couldn't be him, already?
     "You know I wouldn't ring the bell."
     Mithrais turned at the sound of Q's voice.  He was standing
behind her, lounging against the wall of her bedroom, arms
crossed nonchalantly on his chest.  His gaze slowly traversed her
entire being, his face unreadable.  His dark eyes were intense.
     "I didn't hear you come in."  Mithrais's mouth felt as dry
as cotton.  "I've been expecting you, though."  She felt a
frisson of excitement pass through her like a wave as he
straightened up and walked slowly towards her.
     "Hello my dear."  He was standing in front of her, and their
faces were barely a hand-span apart.  His brown eyes held hers in
a long, hungry gaze.  Then his dark eyes fluttered closed as he
took her chin in his hand and pressed a kiss onto her carefully-
dyed lips.
     Mithrais felt the ship dip and spin around her, and she
clutched at Q's arm to avoid falling.  His mouth was only
touching hers for a second or two, but that brief contact was
enough to send her reeling.
     "You look absolutely wonderful."  His warm breath touched
her ear as he bent to whisper.  "I hope that this evening will
be..."  And his dark eyes twinkled, "...magical!"
     "Let me look at you--you've admired me, after all."
Mithrais stood a little ways back and surveyed her companion
carefully.  She knew that tonight was very special, the only time
in her entire life that a man had treated her like a lady.
Usually they overlooked her entirely, passing over her sturdy,
voluptuous frame for the more glamourous, slender Starfleet
women.
     "I only think of you."  He had read her mind, and given her
the only answer that she wanted to hear.
     Mithrais was busy looking at him.  For this evening, he had
clothed himself (out of deference to her, a Human woman) in a
formal tailcoat with a starched white shirt and white tie.  His
black trousers were pressed to a knife-edged crease, his shoes
like mirrors.  His dark hair was combed straight back.  Mithrais
could detect a subtle scent underlying his warmth, something
spicy and exotic that both excited and reassured.  His fine,
long-fingered hands were bare except for an interesting silver
ring on the index finger of his right hand. She took her courage
in both hands and ran her palms up the sleeves of his tailcoat.
"Cashmere," she murmured. "This is lovely--you look wonderful,
Q."
     In response, he took her into his arms and kissed her:  a
gentle, sensuous kiss that injected her being with a taste of his
power, yet refreshed and delighted her like falling rain.
Reflexively, Mithrais wrapped her body into him and felt not fear
or apprehension, but a deep calm, and a sense of belonging.  She
could feel his unhuman power thrumming along under his skin, knew
it was part of what made him uniquely Q. She shuddered in
anticipation as he paused and then kissed her a second time, his
beautiful hands holding her face, his fingers splayed against her
throat.
     When Q pulled away, his composure had shifted just a little.
He experienced intense physical desire, throbbing around the
edges of his mind.  But that would have to wait....
     "Shall we?"  He extended his bent elbow and Mithrais took
it.  They disappeared.

     The Festival of Masques on Tau-Ti was something renowned
throughout the galaxy.  It was analogous to the ancient Earth
custom of Hallowe'en or All Souls' Night.
     For the occasion, the city hall of the largest city on
Mauwgri, Tau-Ti's largest continent, had been pressed into
service.  When Mithrais and Q sparkled into existence near the
front entrance, people were already milling about inside the
front door, dressed in all manner of holiday finery.  The
inhabitants of Mauwgri were humanoid in appearence, with pale
golden skin that on first glance reminded Mithrais of Commander
Data.  The Tau-Titians all had incredible emerald-green eyes,
that seemed to shift and change with their moods.  Their long,
slender arms ended in six elegant fingers.
     Mithrais turned excitedly to Q.  "My God!  This is
marvelous!  Oh, look--" She turned to the crowd before them.
"they're all putting masks on!"
     "And so shall we, my dear."  Q held out his hand and in his
palm lay a jeweled green mask decorated with peacock feathers.
He handed it to Mithrais, who dutifully fastened it around her
face so that only her quizzical green eyes showed.
     "What about you?"  She turned to inquire of Q.
     Q again held out his hand, and this time there materialized
a white mask, half a mask, really, that curved in a jagged line
down the face.  It was entirely without ornament or decoration,
simply and elegantly white.  Q slipped it on.
     Mithrais gasped in pleasure. "Oh!  The Phantom of the Opera-
-how did you know I love that story?"
     Q's mouth smiled at the edge of the mask. "How could you not
love that story?  The redeeming power of love, after all."  He
fashioned a long, black opera cloak out of nothing and slung it
around his shoulders.  "Is this adequate?"
     Mithrais nodded wordlessly, and they went inside.

     Several hours later, as the festival was winding down, Q
gently drew Mithrais out onto the balcony and removed his mask.
His dark eyes were unusually intense, and she knew that he had
something important to say to her.  She stayed silent and allowed
him to continue, although every nerve in her body was thrumming
in anticipation.

     "I have been watching you for some time now, and I'm
convinced not only of your inherent loveliness, but also your
innate worthiness.  You are one of the purest souls I have ever
met."
     Mithrais, abashed at this declaration, made to speak, but Q
put a finger gently to her lips.
     "Ever since I first encountered you, I have been drawn to
you in ways that even I, with my vast intelligence, could not
comprehend.  You...excite something in me, and that pleases me."
     Mithrais smiled. "What is it you're trying to say, Q?"  She
reached up and ran her thumb along his full lower lip.
     "I would like to share love with you--that is, if you are
willing."  He bent and kissed her gently, his mouth roaming over
hers hungrily.  Mithrais clung to him, wanting nothing more than
to stay safely in his embrace forever.  She knew that nothing
could harm her as long as she was with him.
     "I would like that very much," she told him.
     "Then, consider it done."
     And with a snap of his fingers, they vanished.

                         THE END
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