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All this rapid travel through space and time was giving Janeway a headache. "Now where are we, Q? Some sort of library?" She and the other abductees were suddenly standing in the middle of a Victorian-era sitting room, with rows of bookshelves lining the walls. Q and Trelane were now dressed in smoking jackets. They sat down on a flowered couch. A large yellow book appeared across their laps.
"We’re just letting our fingers do the walking, Kathy dearest," Q said. "See?" He held up the book so the front cover was visible. "Ye Olde Catalogue of Balde People."
"What is with this sudden hair obsession, Q?" Janeway asked.
"Seems natural enough to me," Picard muttered.
The other mortals inched away from him, giving him odd looks.
Q wasn’t listening. He flipped through the pages, with Trelane looking on with great interest. "Let’s see...Jason Alexander...Elmer Fudd...Mr. Clean...Dr. Evil..."
Amidst a cough, Q thought he heard Trelane say, "Ripoff!"
"I’d say gesundheit, but somehow I don’t think that was a real sneeze. Where was I? Oh, yes...Yul Brynner...John Lithgow...Riff Raff...Paul Schafer...Telly Savalas...Daddy Warbucks...Gorbachev? No, that blotch just ruins the look. Patrick Stewart? No, we already have him...sort of. Robert Picardo? No, pretty much the same thing." Q suddenly looked up at two of his "guests." He grinned. "Say, are you related to Jean-Luc, Morty?"
"My name is not Morty, and I have no idea what you’re talking about," the EMH said.
"Picard...Picardo...oh, never mind. You corporeal life forms just wouldn’t get it."
"What about Michael Jordan?" Trelane asked.
"I don’t want to get into that. I’d have to bring the whole NBA! Not to mention all the college players."
Sisko spoke up. "What about baseball players?"
"Shut up, Benjy," Q said without looking up from the thick tome. "This is an omnipotent thing. You don’t know what you’re talking about."
Janeway sighed. "Let’s sit down, guys. I have a feeling this is going to take awhile."
"I can’t believe that Starfleet is just sitting back and watching my planet being assimilated!" exclaimed President Zilleox, slamming his hands on the Ready Room table.
Riker lounged in Picard’s chair, his feet on the table. "We’re not standing by, Mr. President, we’re formulating a plan even as I speak."
"I would really appreciate it if you would see fit to enlighten me, Commander, since that is my planet down there!"
"All in due time," Riker said. "In the meantime, why don’t you enjoy the recreation here on the ship? We have plenty of nice holodeck programs that don’t usually go haywire and threaten to take over the ship."
"I don’t want a holodeck! I want my planet back!" Zilleox said in exasperation.
"There’s no need to whine, Mr. President," Captain Sally Letterman said. She sat in a chair some distance from Picard’s desk, looking thoroughly peeved at Riker for taking the Captain’s chair. After all, she outranked him!
"I’m not trying to be unreasonable here, but my planet, not to mention my people, are in trouble!" Zilleox persisted.
Letterman stood and began pacing. "We’re waiting for the rest of the armada, Mr. President. We don’t dare attack the Borg with only two ships. It would be suicide."
"But this is the flagship of the Federation! Can’t you do something?" Zilleox asked.
"The old Borg, we can handle, more or less," Riker said. "But in case you’ve forgotten the Broadway review show in your office, these Borg are something entirely new to us. It’s better to wait until we have more support."
"And while we sit here and twiddle our thumbs, the Borg are taking over my world!" Zilleox wailed.
"Mr. President--"
"If you don’t do something, pretty soon I won’t have a planet to be president of!"
"Yes, yes, but you must understand--"
"I understand! I understand just fine! You fancy Federation types aren’t willing to risk your expensive ships over a backwoods little planet like mine!" Zilleox made an elaborate gesture with his elbows that was considered very lewd and insulting on Alnilam and stormed from the room.
"Well, that went over like a tribble at a Klingon tupperware party," Riker said with a sigh. He turned on the automatic electric massage on Picard’s chair, which began thrumming with soothing energy. Now Letterman was really irked.
It was time to assert her authority once and for all. "All right, Commander, President Zilleox is right. If we don’t stop these wacky Borg here and now, who knows what they’ll do next? Cats? Rent? Phantom? Les Miserables? We can’t let a threat like this run loose in our quadrant! We have two perfectly good ships. You’re short one captain, and my first officer is...well...incapacitated at the moment. So let’s team together and fight the Borg."
"But Starfleet put me in charge of the armada!"
"I don’t care if Starfleet put you in charge of the armadillo! I still outrank you, and this is bigger than any petty squabbles and regulations! This is the fate of the quadrant we’re talking about here!"
"Aw, but I wanted to lead the armada!" Riker whined. "No fair!"
"Commander, quit acting like a spoiled child or I’ll put you in time-out in the corner! Act your age! Now do we have a deal?"
Riker took his feet off the desk and sulked. "All right, fine. Go ahead and do whatever you want to. I’ll just sit here and play with the Captain’s little toy ships."
"Oh no, you don’t, Commander. Come with me!" Letterman grabbed Riker’s ear and dragged him onto the bridge, soliciting several odd looks from other crewmembers. Letterman took the center command chair and began giving orders. "Open a channel to the Pegasus."
"Channel open, Captain."
"Okay, people, listen up. We’ve got the Borg outnumbered two to one, and it’s time to take action. Shields at maximum capacity, ready the photon torpedos, and let’s get this show on the road! And, Commander, stop pouting or your lip will stay that way!"
Janeway was nearly asleep when Q suddenly exclaimed, "Shatner! Ol’ Willie! That reminds me!"
"Oh, yeah!" Trelane said.
Janeway looked up with a start just in time to see Q put aside the
huge yellow book and zap into the ether once again. When they reappeared, they were in a
1950’s style Earth drive-in theater. She found herself in the back seat of a bright
red Rambler
, in the arms of...Q?!
"Q! Get your hands off me!"
"Oh, but Kathy, you know what people do in the back seat at drive-in movies!" Q said impishly.
"Yes, but not on your omnipotent little life!" Janeway said, shoving Q away from her. She jumped out of the car, her poodle skirt billowing in the breeze. The rest of the kidnapped mortals were in cars around them, similarly attired in 1950’s clothing.
Ilia looked down at her sweater and poodle skirt. "Wow, this is a lot warmer than a bathrobe!"
Janeway put her hands on her hips and scowled at Q. "Now where are we?" He put his arm up on the top of the seat and gestured at the screen. Janeway followed his gaze to a towering image of the original Enterprise. There was some sort of battle going on between the Federation personnel and an obscure alien race she remembered were called the Krusean Spatulites. Apparently things had only gone downhill after they left the mess hall in that time period.
"Messy, isn’t it?" Q said placidly as a red-shirted ensign was bashed against a bulkhead.
"Well, it is a mess hall," Ilia said innocently.
"Wow, a battle! I love battles!" Sisko said.
"What’s going on, Q?" Picard said gruffly.
"A nasty little altercation involving Kirk, the Spatulites, fleebs and tribbles. Quite complicated, really," Q said. He slicked back his Grease-style haircut. "But don’t worry. None of this will screw up the Space-Time Contiuum too badly. Right, Trelane?"
Trelane coughed with faint embarassment. "Er, right, Q."
"So just sit back and enjoy the show," Q said. Popcorn, pretzels and hot dogs appeared on trays in the all their cars.
The first starship to carry the name Enterprise was in utter and complete chaos. Fleeb fire had shorted out most of the electricity on that deck, so the battle was fought by the light of red alert klaxons.
"Aren’t the Klaxons related to the Klingons?"
"Shut up and watch, Trelane."
Spock was nerve-pinching Spatulites as fast as he could, and red-shirted ensigns were dropping like flies.
Doctor McCoy ran through the hallways, inspecting tribbles. "This tribble’s dead. This one’s alive. This one’s dead. This one’s alive..." Suddenly a phaser beam sliced through the ill-fated creature. "No, wait, it died. Those two are dead. This one’s alive. This one’s not." Somehow, McCoy’s luck was with him in force. All of the phaser- and fleeb-beams were incinerating nearby tribbles instead of him. McCoy carried on with his oddly-timed inventory.
"Bones!" came Kirk’s voice. "Don’t you...think you...could help us...over here?" Kirk and Benjuh Effinchuk were locked in mortal combat. Effinchuk’s fleeb had run out of power, and Kirk’s phaser was similarly depleted, so they were reduced to hand-to-hand fighting.
Oblivious, Bones continued sifting through the drifts of tribbles, announcing, "This one’s alive. This one is, too. This one is dead. This one is alive and ready to give birth. Uh oh."
"BONES!" Kirk yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Huh?" McCoy finally looked up from the pile of ailing tribbles. "Oh, hi, Jim!"
"Have you noticed...what’s...going on...around here?" He ducked a punch from the angry Spatulite. "There are...people...injured! I’d help them...but...I’m sort of in a battle...to the death...here."
"Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a--" A light dawned
in his brain. "Oh, yeah! I’ll get right on it, Jim!"
"Good." Kirk delivered a mighty right cross to Benjuh Effinchuk’s jaw.
"Ow! Bite me, Kirk!"
Kirk did.
"Hey! I didn’t mean-- Ooh, you rotten humans! Grr!" The furious Spatulite gave Kirk a haymaker, and the Captain toppled backwards into a red-shirted figure, who fell over, dead.
"Gee, I knew...they were...fragile, but--" Kirk didn’t have time to finish the sentence, because Effinchuk began pounding on him.
"Grandiose Butt-Kicking Warlord! Catch!" croaked a mortally-wounded Spatulite. He tossed his fleeb toward his leader, who deftly caught it.
"Thanks, Semaforo! You rock!"
Even as he spoke, Semaforo’s eyes clouded over.
"You’re gonna pay for this, Kirk! Semaforo was one kick-ass dude!" Effinchuk roared, aiming the glowing fleeb between Kirk’s eyes.
Suddenly there was a rushing sensation in Kirk’s head, and he found himself sprawled in the dirt next to...a 1954 Corvette? "What the--" He looked up to see Picard and Sisko sitting in the car.
"Hi, Jimmy, how’s life down on the Iowa hog farm?" Q said, ambling over from the Rambler.
"Where...am I?" Kirk put a hand to his aching head. He glanced up at the screen. "Hey! That looks...awfully...familiar!" Benjuh Effinchuk was larger-than-life onscreen, having a loud temper tantrum.
"Dammit Kirk, you coward! Come back here and fight like a humanoid!"
A VCR-style remote control materialized in Q’s hand, and he turned the sound down. "Show’s over, folks. We have to be running along." With a flourish, they were all transported back to Jackson V.
Kirk and the others were now dressed normally, and perched atop a mountain of socks. "What’s...going on?" Kirk asked. "What...is...this place?" He took a look at Ilia, now back in her skimpy white bathrobe. "Why...aren’t...you...wearing any...clothes? And why...don’t you have...any hair?"
Q strode below then on a flatter surface of socks with Trelane tagging along behind. "None of you have any hair. That’s why we’re here."
"I used to have hair, until that nasty fleeb accident," Janeway grumbled.
"Very variable hair, Kathy. Different style every week."
"I’m not bald," the EMH protested, "I’m
just programmed that way."
"Never mind the details." Q snapped his fingers, and his "guests" were soon lined up, all on psychiatrist couches. Q himself now wore a drab sweater and khaki pants. He sat down in an overstuffed leather chair and pulled out a spiral notebook. "All right zen," he said with a bad Austrian accent, "tell me about your mothers."
"I don’t have a mother. I’m a hologram!" the EMH said.
"Quiet, Morty."
"For the hundredth time, my name is not Morty!" he screamed.
"Now, now, we’ll deal with your identity crisis later. You’re probably wondering why I brought you all here."
"Oh, yes, do tell, Q," Picard said with a deep sigh. He knew by now it was useless to fight Q. Better to go along with his games and get them over with sooner.
"You’re all bald, or at least partially so. Doesn’t that bother any of you?"
Ilia looked confused. "Everyone in my race is bald. Why should it bother me?"
Q frowned. "You know, you have a point. You’re no fun at all." With a wave of his pencil, he sent her back to the Delta Quadrant, where she materialized in Decker’s lap, much to his astonishment.
"I’m no fun...either!" Kirk said hopefully. "Send...me back....too!"
"Nice try, Jimmy," Q said with a sneer.
"I’m not bald, though!" Picard said. "See, I have a toupee!"
"No," Kirk said, "you have...MY toupee!" He snatched the mangled peice of fuzz off Picard’s head and put it on.
"Q!" Picard whined. "Kirk took my hair!"
"Now, now, don’t fight, kids."
Sisko looked at Picard strangely. "What’s wrong with you, Picard? I’ve never seen you act like this."
Picard shook his head. "Huh? I’ve never met you before."
"Captain Benjamin Sisko, Deep Space Nine. We’ve met before."
"Don’t be so linear, Benjy," Q said. "In this particular Jean-Luc’s time period, he hasn’t met you yet."
"Time travel makes my head hurt," Sisko said.
"Now then, let’s get started, shall we?" Q said.
Picard put his head in his hands. "Get comfortable, people. This could take awhile."
Meanwhile, back on the U.S.S. Pegasus-B, Bob Lloyd Webber, was slowly coming awake. "Where am I?" He opened his eyes and looked around. He was in sick bay. Without his socks! "My socks! Where are my socks?" he whimpered groggily.
Dr. Fox stood nearby, scanning him with a medical tricorder. "Morning, Bob. Feel better after a nice nap?"
"My socks!" He looked at his bare hands, but his puppets were nowhere to be seen. "Where are my socks? Gertie? Kenny? Where are you?" He stared, wide-eyed at his hands. "My hands are naked!"
"Now, now, Bob, just calm down," said Dr. Fox. "Counselor V’Larek and I decided it was best for Gertie and Kenny to go away for now."
"What did you do with them?" Bob said anxiously, sitting up in the bio-bed.
"Well, Bob, they took a little trip in the recycling chute."
"WHAT?" He sprang to his feet. "Ohmigod! You killed
Kenny! You bastard!" Before the doctor
could grab a hypospray, Bob landed a hard punch to her jaw, and she fell backward into an
instrument tray. He bolted from sick bay, screaming, "My socks! You killed my
socks!"
One of the nurses looked down at the stunned Dr. Fox in astonishment and slammed her comm badge. "Uh...security! Commander Lloyd Webber just knocked out Dr. Fox and escaped from sick bay!"
Lieutenant Banderas replied, "All
right, but a security team is on their way, but it might take a few minutes. We’re
preparing to go into battle with the Borg. But I’ll try to contact the Captain."
Dr. Fox stirred back into lucidity. "That was one hard sock!"
"Stop slouching, Commander," Captain Sally Letterman said. Riker made a half-hearted attempt to straighten his posture in his customary chair. The second-in-command’s chair. He tried not to pout.
The communications officer said, "Captain, we’re being hailed by the Pegasus."
"Now what?" Letterman grumbled. "Main viewer."
An image of Lieutenant Commander Gingritch appeared. He was in Letterman’s customary chair on the bridge of the Pegasus.
"What is it, Lenny? This had better be important!"
"Er, it is, Captain, I guess. I’ve just been informed that Commander Lloyd Webber has escaped from sick bay and is running through the ship collecting socks."
Letterman slapped herself on the forehead. "Great. Just what I didn’t need. Send a security team after him."
"I did, Captain, but he knocked them out and stole their socks."
Riker suppressed a giggle, and Letterman gave him a stern look. "I’m a magnet for troublesome first officers," she grumbled. "All right, fine. Send another security team after him! Barefoot!"
"That’s a violation of Starfleet dress codes, ma’am," said Data.
"I don’t care! Just do it!"
"Yes, Captain," said Gingritch. "Pegasus out."
The screen went blank. Letterman turned to the weapons officer. "All right, people. Commence operation Bye Bye Borg!"
Unlike his "guests", Q was in no hurry. This time, Captain Janeway was in the hot seat. "So, tell me, Kathy, what’s the deal with your ‘do? It’s different every time I see you!"
"It’s really different now," Trelane said, smirking at her bald, charred head.
"If you weren’t omnipotent, I’d throttle you," Janeway said with an enfuriated sigh. "And, Q, I just change my hairstyle for something different. You know, style. Besides, there’s not much else to do, stuck in the middle of the Delta Quadrant. You can only do the same holodeck program so many times. And I like playing with my hair. It’s a girl thing."
Q shuddered. "I may be omniscient, but I’ll never understand women." He dismissed Janeway with a wave of his hand and a flash of light.
Moments later, she appeared back on the bridge of the U.S.S. Voyager...in Chakotay’s lap.
"Er...hello, Captain," he said with a mildly amused expression. "Q get tired of you?"
"Thankfully, yes." She climbed down from his lap.
"Captain, what happened to your hair?"
"Don’t ask," she said with clenched teeth.
"Uh, Captain, about our new 'guests'..." Chakotay pointed over at Decker and Ilia, who were making out in the corner. "What are we going to do with them?"
Janeway lowered an eyebrow at them. "You mean they haven’t been sucked up by a time-space anomaly yet?"
"Not yet."
"Wait a week or two."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
Meanwhile, back on the Planet of the Socks...
Q was about to question Sisko when he began sniffing and looking around. "What’s that awful stench?"
"It’s certainly not me," said Morty.
Q followed his nose to a pile of socks, held one up, and reeled
back in disgust. "Whoa! You damn dirty socks!"
Trelane tried to hide behind his chair.
"Trelane, you were supposed to wash all of these! You missed a pile!"
"Sorry?"
"Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!" Q shook his head, pointed from his pupil to the socks, and stood there until Trelane reluctantly took a basket and began scooping up footwear. "Now," Q said, returning to his chair with one dirty sock, "you’ll answer my questions, or I’ll make you sniff this sock for a few millenia or so. Okay?"
Sisko, Jean-Luc and Kirk screamed for mercy. The EMH frowned. "That would be a much worse threat if I had an olfactory system."
"That could be arranged, however..." Q said slyly. "Anyway, Morty, why don’t you tell us your little Bald Story, hmm?"
"My name is NOT MORTY!!! And another thing! I’m not bald! I’m a hologram! Now, my programmer, Dr Zimmerman, he was bald! If you want to counsel someone, look him up. Now can I please get back to my sickbay?"
"Well, if you’re going to be cranky about it..." Q looked miffed.
The next thing "Morty" knew, he was sitting in a strange plain, surrounded by odd-looking mushrooms with eyes and feet. A short gentleman in red overalls jumped past. "Hey! Wait!" the EMH called. "Who are you? Where am I?" Peppy digital music was playing in the background. A flying turtle attacked him. "Hey! Stop! What’s going on, here? This isn’t the U.S.S. Voyager! This is a video game! Noooooo!"
Two weeks later, at Neelix’s lunch counter, Janeway turned to Chakotay with a sudden thought. "Have you seen the EMH lately?"
"Uh...no. There haven’t been any medical emergencies, so I guess we haven’t missed him."
"I don’t think Q ever brought him back."
"Are you sure he wasn’t sucked into that time-space anomaly last week, along with Decker and Ilia and those guest starring ensigns?"
"Oh. Maybe that’s it. Neelix, do you have any sugar?"
