Q AT LARGE

Q AT LARGE (printable version)
PART TWO

Hosting a dinner with a bunch of hostile Spatulites made Kirk nervous. Hosting a dinner with a tribble on his head made him even more nervous. Not that anyone was surprised by his attempt to cover his receding hairline. But one wrong move and there would be a mess hall full of tribbles. Which was the last thing he needed right then.

Benjuh Effinchuk was not exactly content with his situation, either. He slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. No one had ever defeated him in a fleeb duel before. It was humiliating!

Kirk now knew better than to tap his glass for attention. Standing and clearing his throat worked just fine. Once everyone was quiet, he announced, "All personal...grudges aside, we...need to...think of the greater...good of the...galaxy. So let’s all...try to be...polite and enjoy...this...wonderful dinner. I would...like to...personally... congratulate...Benjuh Effinchuk for...being a good...loser."

Benjuh Effinchuk scowled and looked like anything but a good loser. If looks could kill...

"So...let’s all...have a nice...evening and...enjoy this special...Spatulite delicacy...that...our guests...have so thoughtfully...prepared...for us." There was a polite round of applause from all parties present. Kirk raised his glass in a toast. "Here’s to..peace...and harmony...throughout the...galaxy...and especially...between our...two peoples. May we...learn to...understand...each other...and... respect...each other’s...customs and...traditions. Furthermore..."

"Shut up and let us eat, Kirk!"

Kirk whirled around angrily to see who had spoken so rudely. He was dismayed to see Q sitting in a recently-nonexistant chair, with a napkin tucked into his collar. And he had brought guests.

"You!"

"Actually, that’s Q."

"What...are you...doing here?"

"Waiting for food. What’s it look like?"

"Who are...all these...people...you...brought?" Kirk asked.

"Ilia, Kathy, Benjy, Johnny L and Morty."

"My name is not Morty!" the EMH grumbled.

"Give it up," Janeway said with a hopeless sigh. "You can’t reason with him."

"Trust us," Picard said wearily.

"And I, as you know, mon capitane, am Q," Q finished with a grand bow.

"Hey!" Kirk burst out, pointing at Picard’s head. "Isn’t that...my...toupee?"

"Never mind that! What in the seven Hells is going on here, Kirk?" Benjuh Effinchuk demanded angrily. "Did you invite these...people?"

"I...most certainly...did not!"

"I would apologize for interupting your evening, Grandiose Butt-Kicking Warlord of the Spatulite Army, but...I’m omnipotent, so I don’t have to." Q shrugged.

"Get...out of here!" Kirk yelled.

"For once I agree with you, Kirk," said Effinchuk.

Q leaned back in his chair to such an extent that he defied gravity. "Oh, don’t waste your breath. You couldn’t make me leave if you tried."

Effinchuk pulled out his fleeb. "You wanna bet? Ya feelin’ lucky, punk?"

Q impassively regarded the Spatulite’s gaudy colors. "Look who’s calling me a punk. Still, it’s original, I have to admit."

Benjuh Effinchuck fired his fleeb at Q. The beam passed harmlessly through the smug interloper and incidentally incinerated Janeway’s hair.

"Hey!" Janeway screeched. "My hair!" She touched her blackened, smoking bald head and moaned.

Q smiled disarmingly. "Don’t mind us, Kirk. Just go on with your little soiree and pretend we’re not here."

Flabbergasted, Kirk looked to Spock for advice. The Vulcan twitched an eyebrow. "Captain, in my personal experience, this Q can be a dangerous entity, not to mention unpredictable. I believe it would be best to do as he says."

Kirk sighed and lowered himself into his chair. "Fine," he said with a pout. "Let’s...eat."

The Spatulites eagerly began shoveling food into their mouths, occasionally belching and completely ignoring the presence of silverware. Kirk tried not to look disgusted. "Where...are their...manners?" he griped under his breath.

Spock leaned over and whispered, "Captain, they are Spatulites. These are their manners. They are being polite...more or less."

"Disgusting," Bones growled quietly.

Kirk shook his head in disdain, accidentally causing his tribble toupee to fall off. The hairball landed on his plate and immediately began devouring everything in sight. "Aah!" he said with a jolt, grabbing the tribble off his plate. "Now it’s...all dirty! Not to mention...fed!"

Spock said, "And you know what that means."

Bones looked heavenward in exasperation. "It means you’ll be up to your pointy little ears in fur balls before you can say ‘logical’."

"Oh...great," Kirk said, putting his head in his hands. In doing so, the tribble slid off his head again and had a second helping of his dinner.

"Jim!" Bones grabbed the tribble. "Careful! I’d better go down to sickbay and isolate this little fella before we’re swimming in tribbles." He stood and headed for the door. As the doors swished open, he yelped in surprise.

"Bones...what...is it?" Kirk asked.

"Tribbles! The whole corridor is filled with tribbles!" Bones exclaimed.

"Already? Doesn’t it usually take a little longer than that?" Sulu asked.

An amused voice came from outside the mess hall. "If you’re trapped in a linear existance, that is." Trelane stepped into view, wading through the tribbles, and made an elaborate bow.

Q beamed. "Very good, my boy! You’ve got style!"

Trelane grinned and began juggling tribbles. "Thanks."

"Jim!" Bones said suddenly. "This tribble is dead!"

"Which one?" Sulu quipped.

"What?" Kirk jumped to his feet and ran to the ex-tribble.

"Colder than a Klingon’s smile, Jim."

"How...can that...be? It was....fine...just a...minute ago."

Bones scanned the hair ball with his tricorder. "Poison, Jim!"

"Poison?" The Captain whirled around and stared at his plate of food. "But--" His mind made the connection. "Effinchuk!" He gave an accusing look at the Spatulite leader. "You’re...responsible for...this...aren’t you?"

"How dare you accuse me, you bung hole!" Effinchuk roared. "Isn’t it enough you humiliated me in front of my troops?"

"You...tried to...poison me!" Kirk sputtered furiously.

Spock said, "He certainly had a motive, Captain. By killing you, he would ruin all chances for a peace treaty. And, in the process, become a hero among Spatulites."

"Security! Arrest...that...Spatulite!"

Several red-shirted men barged into the room, phasers drawn. They were immediately disintegrated by Benjuh Effinchuk’s flaming fleeb. He held his fleeb aloft and shouted, "My fellow Spatulites! Defend the honor of your Grandiose Butt-Kicking Warlord! ATTACK!"

Q shook his head. "This could get messy." He went to Trelane, put a hand over the younger being's eyes, and snapped his fingers. His unwilling guests disappeared along with them in a flash of light. As they departed, they heard Kirk shout, "Wait! Give me back...my toupee!"

Janeway frowned and put her hands on her hips. "Now where are we, Q?"

"Don’t you recognize it, Kathy dearest?" Q said condescendingly.

"No."

"It’s the inside of your sock drawer, of course."

"What? My...Q! Get us out of here!" Janeway yelled.

"You just don’t know how to have fun, do you?" Q said with a sigh. They blinked out of existance once more, along with all Janeway’s socks, and reappeared on the surface of an unfamilar planet. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but socks. Socks, socks, and more socks!

"What in the world...?" Sisko said in bewilderment, looking around at their bizarre surroundings.

Q dove into a pile of socks and disappeared. He surfaced moments later in the middle of a slightly more distant mound. "Welcome to Jackson V, my dear little bald people. My own personal sock stockpile."

Trelane giggled. "Sock stockpile. That sounds cool."

Sisko looked even more grim than usual. "Socks, Q?"

Janeway concurred. "I mean, I know you’re weird, Q, but...socks?"

Ilia contemplated a nearby drift of footwear. "Mind if I borrow a pair? My legs are freezing!"

"That’s what you get for traispsing around the galaxy in a bathrobe," Q said.

"You could catch cold in that little thing," the holographic Doctor said with clinical concern.

"You would worry yourself with petty little things like that, wouldn’t you, Morty?" Q scoffed.

"My name is NOT Morty!" the Doctor hollered.

"Whatever."

"What is your name, then?" Sisko asked.

"Well, I don’t have one. Exactly. Yet. But if I did, it certainly would not be Morty!"

"Holograms. Go figure," Trelane said with a shrug.

Picard was losing patience. "All right, Q. You have a whole planet full of socks. What’s the point? Why?"

"Why? Why, mon capitane?" Q laughed. "Don’t you have any hobbies? Besides, ever thought about how much fun it would be to have a couple trillion socks?"

"But what do you do with them all?"

Q disappeared into a deeper pile, but his voice was unmuffled. "I like to dive through them like a porpoise, burrow around in them like a gopher, and toss them up and let them hit me on the head!" He did the backstroke through the socks. Suddenly, he stopped and held up a lacy pink negligee. "How did this get in here? Is this yours, Kathy?"

"It most certainly is not! Er...does it have my initials on the tag?"

Q inspected it. "K.J."

Janeway blushed and snatched the garment away from him. "I don’t even want to know how this got here."

Q shrugged innocently. "It’s not my fault you keep your intimate apparel with your socks."

Sisko scowled severely at Q. "Take us home at once, Q! I have better things to do than waste my time watching you frolic in socks!"

"Oh, but our little party is just beginning, Captain Benjy."

"That’s Sisko. Benjamin Sisko."

"And I’m Bond. James Bond. But that’s beside the point. It’s time to be moving along to the next stop on our little whirlwind tour of the galaxy." In a flurry of socks, they were whisked away to yet another planet.

They reappeared on an arid hillside. "Now what?" Picard said with chagrin. His eyes widened when he saw who was standing at the top of the hill. "Pike!"

"The weapon?" Sisko said.

"The fish?" Ilia said.

"No, the Captain!" Picard pointed at the dark-haired figure in the distance. "Captain Christopher Pike!"

"Looks like a pilot," Trelane said.

"No, he’s a starship captain," Picard said, oblivious to the depth of the younger being’s words.

"That’s not what I meant. You see, we’re all just characters in a--"

Q slapped a hand over the boy’s mouth. "There are some things better left unsaid, my dear boy. Now, then, we have business to conduct."

Ilia turned to Q. "Why did you take us to see Kirk?"

"All will be made clear in due time, my bald beauty." Q strode boldly up the hill to where Pike was confronting the Talosians. "Hi, guys. How are things?"

Pike was startled. "Who are you?"

But Q wasn’t interested in Kirk’s predecessor. He was busy studying the Talosians. "What do you think, Trelane? They’re bald enough."

"Yeah, but their heads look like butts!" Trelane said with a derogitory snicker.

"Good point. Better to travel light. Ta ta." Q, Trelane and their captives disappeared, leaving Pike and the Talosians very confused.

"Hickory dickory dock...the sock ran up the clock! The clock struck one, the sock... Uh, Lieutenant Simmons, what rhymes with ‘one’?" Bob asked.

Floyd Simmons looked over his shoulder at the delusional commander in the brig. "Uh...how about ‘fun’?"

"What do you think, Gertie?"

"Nah," said the sock. "Too clich�. How about ‘none’?"

"Sun!" offered another sock puppet, the one named Kenny.

"Hmm," Bob pondered. "Now what rhymes with ‘socks?’

"Dr. Fox!" Simmons exclaimed.

"Very good, Floyd!" said Bob.

"No! She’s here." Floyd Simmons had never been so glad to see Doctor Fox.

"What’s the matter?" she asked.

Simmons shook his head. "See for yourself, Doctor." Doctor Fox took one look at Bob in the brig, his hands covered with socks.

"I’m too sexy for my sock, too sexy," he began singing drunkenly. "Oh, hello, Doctor! Doctor Fox, this is Kenny, and this is Gertie!"

"Uh...hi. Now I see what V’Larek meant. Oh, boy. Uh, Simmons, lower the force field so I can examine Commander Lloyd Webber."

"Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of socks! Jack fell down and lost his argyles..."

"Uh, Bob, I hate to interrupt, but--"

"Rub-a-dub-dub, three socks in a tub--" he sang.

"Bob! Put a sock in it!"

That got his attention. He gave her a sly (if deranged) look. "Why, doctor. I love it when you talk dirty."

"Er...no. Now, uh, Commander, I need to examine you."

"Aren’t you going to examine Kenny and Gertie? Gertie has a nasty cough!" Bob said. Gertie coughed.

"Maybe later," the doctor said, running a medical tricorder up and down in front of him. "Hmm...everything appears to be normal." She looked up from the readings and saw Bob and his two puppets waiting expectantly. "Er...sort of. I think this is more Counselor V’Larek’s department. But this might help." She took out a hypospray and hissed it into Bob’s neck.

"Don’t Kenny and Gertie get any?" Bob asked with disappointment. The socks opened their mouths plaintively.

"No. Socks don’t need medicine. They’re...well, they’re socks, Bob!"

"I know. Aren’t they great?" Bob grinned.

"I’ll be back to check on you in 24 hours. In the meantime...try to relax. Get some sleep. And take those socks off your hands."

"What? Kill Gertie and Kenny? Are you nuts? Never!" Fox wordlessly issued another dose of medication from her hypospray and left the brig. Bob began to sway. "Whoa, that made me dizzy! Do you feel dizzy, Kenny?"

"Uh huh," said the sock groggily.

Then, with a thump, Commander Bob Lloyd Webber fell to the floor, socks and all.

Voyager wasn’t having much luck eluding the V’ger probe.

"This isn’t getting us anywhere," Janeway said with a sigh. "Full stop, Mr. Paris."

Paris complied.

"Hail the probe."

"All hail the probe!" said Mr. Kim, saluting.

"I meant with the communications panel, Mr. Kim," Janeway said shortly.

"Oh. Right, Captain. Channel open."

"Mommy?"

"I’m not your mother, you hunk of metal!" Janeway yelled. "We want to know what you’ve been doing for the last century. What happened to Decker and Ilia?"

"Oh, we’re right here, Captain," came a tinny voice.

"Visual, Mr. Kim."

A bald woman in an extremely short white bathrobe and a wimpy-looking human male appeared on screen.

"That lady needs Rogaine," Paris mumbled.

"Hello. What is Starfleet doing out this far?" Ilia asked.

"And when did you lucky people get rid of those horrendous pastel uniforms?" Decker asked. "Red is a good color on me, you know!"

"I thought you two joined with V’ger," Janeway said.

"Well, we did. Sort of. I mean, we still are. It’s complicated," Ilia said.

"Like most things on this show," Q said, appearing in Janeway’s lap. "Hi, Kathy, dear," he said, puckering his lips at her and making smacking noises.

"Q!" Janeway stood up suddenly, knocking him onto the floor.

"Ow! Hey! Is that any way to treat an omnipotent being? I guess you’re taking a rain check on that lap dance. Pity." He stood up.

"Q, we have enough problems today without you pestering us. Leave!"

"I feel so unwanted," he said, wiping away an imaginary tear. Mournful violin music began to waft through the air.

"Who is that?" Ilia asked.

"Hey! Are you related to Jean-Luc?" he asked, admiring her shiny head.

"Who?"

"You know, you bald people should have a support group."

A disembodied voice came again, "V’ger seeks the creator."

"Sorry," Q said, "but Gene Roddenberry is dead."

"Who?" said Ilia again.

"Never mind. You mortals have such a limited scope of things. It’s sad, really."

Trelane appeared next to his mentor. "Q, I’m bored again," he whined.

"Never fear, dear boy, I have plans in which you may take a part. Now, about that support group..." He looked around the bridge appraisingly, as if picking out a well-shaped melon. He pointed at Ilia, who disappeared. "I’ll take you."

"Hey!" Decker exclaimed. "What did you do with Ilia?"

"V’ger seeks Ilia."

"Not much for vocabulary, that probe. Oh well. I’ll take you, even though you’re not bald, seeing as how you can’t decide what hairstyle you want," he said, making Janeway disappear.

"Captain!" Harry Kim shouted helplessly.

"Sorry, but your hair doesn’t look that stupid. I can’t take everyone, you know. Maybe next time. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow your EMH. He’s almost bald. The fact that he’s not human is beside the point!"

"But--" Kim began before duct tape appeared over his mouth.

"Shut up! No more dialogue for you at the moment. Toodle-loo!" Q waved grandly as he and Trelane blinked away in a burst of light.

As the two omnipotent beings were floating in the nothingness, Trelane asked, "Can I take us to the next place? Pleeeeeeeze?"

"Stop whining, and I’ll think about it," Q snapped.

"Pretty please with tofu on top!"

"Oh, all right. Take us to where we left off with Jean-Luc."

"Yipee!" Concentrating all his budding power, Trelane whisked them away.

They arrived invisibly on the bridge of the Enterprise-D. "Yay! I did it!" Trelane said jubilantly.

Q frowned at their surroundings. "Hmm...something’s not quite right here."

The bridge shuddered as a photon torpedo struck it. Red-alert klaxons blared irritatingly.

"Status report, Lieutenant," said Picard.

"We’ve lost life support on decks five and six, and another Romulan warbird has just decloaked off the port nacelle!" said a young woman with short blonde hair.

"Yar?" Q said, scratching his head. "She’s dead...twice. Well, three times, if you count that time-space anomaly."

Just then, Wesley Crusher walked onto the bridge.

"Tacky," Q said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the rainbow-striped jumpsuit. He turned to his protege. "Well, Trelane, you managed to get us to the right ship, but...this is the wrong season!"

"Oh. Oops. Sorry, Q." Trelane studied his boots sheepishly.

Picard jumped to his feet. "Please, Wesley! You have to help us! The ship is going to be destroyed any moment now!"

"Sure, Captain," Wesley said. He walked over to a nearby console and pressed a button.

Immediately, the klaxons were silenced, the ship stopped shuddering, and Yar said, "Life support has been restored to decks five and six, and the damage to the hull has been repaired!"

"Anything else?" Wesley asked, yawning.

"Oh, thank you, Wesley!" Picard said, groveling at the boy’s feet. "I don’t know what we’d do without you. Don’t ever run off with a strange alien to move to a higher plane of existence or anything stupid like that!"

"Uh....sure, Captain," Wesley said uneasily. He shook Picard off his shoes and headed back to the turbolift. "Captains these days," he mumbled.

"Now there, Trelane, is a child prodigy," Q said, wagging an admiring finger at Wesley.

"Aw, a monkey could have pressed that button," Trelane whined.

"Humans, monkeys, what’s the difference?" Q said. He made a sweeping gesture, and they disappeared.

With Q navigating, they arrived on the Enterprise-D in the correct time period. Q decided to observe the plight of the humans invisibly for a time. Wesley Crusher was still on the bridge, but now he wore a Starfleet uniform. "This is more like it," Q said, sauntering up to the con.

The ship was blasted by a Borg weapon. Everyone on the bridge was violently jolted to one side.

"WHIPLASH!" someone shouted, grabbing his neck.

"You know, Trelane, they really need seat belts on this thing," Q said.

Wesley straightened in his chair. As his fingers danced over the control panel, he grumbled, "Sure, other cadets went to Daytona Beach or Risa for Spring Break. Where'm I?" The ship was rocked again. "This really sucks!"

The next blast was so violent it sent Picard’s toupee flying through the air. It landed on the console next to Lieutenant Barclay. "Lemming!" he shrieked, running for dear life into the turbolift.

Picard shot him an annoyed look and retrieved his toupee.

Barclay darted through the deserted halls, stumbling as the ship was jolted again and again. The red alert lights gave the corridors an eerie crimson tinge. He ran into his quarters and dived under the bed for safety. He heaved a sigh of relief and began to relax. The ship took another blow. A soft clump of dust brushed against his arm. He closed his eyes in terror, then dared to peek through his fingers at the furry thing tickling his arm.

"LEMMING!" he screamed, scrambling out from underneath his bed. He staggered across the swaying floor and fled from his quarters at warp speed.

Back on the bridge, things were looking dark.

"Shield failure in two minutes," Worf said grimly.

"Hail the Borg," Picard said.

"All hail the Borg," Wesley mumbled.

"Not again," Q sighed.

A Borg appeared onscreen. "Hi!" he said. "You have reached the Borg. We’re not able to come to the viewscreen right now, but if you care to leave a message after the beep, we’ll assimilate you as soon as we can." Thereafter followed a beep.

Picard frowned. "How thoughtful," he said.

Just then, a real Borg appeared on the viewscreen. "Howdy! What can we do for you?"

"Well, for starters, you could stop firing on our ship," Picard said.

"How come?"

"Because we’re all going to die."

"Yeah..."

"Well, wouldn't it be kind of hard to assimilate us if we're blown to smithereens?"

"Oh. You've got a point, there. That would suck. Okay." Immediately, the bombardment ceased.

"Why...thank you," Picard said.

"No problem. We’re behind schedule anyway. We’ll just finish the assimilation here and be on our way. Toodles!" The Borg gave a dainty wave, and the viewscreen went dark.

"Well, it’s something, at least," Picard said, inconspicuously wiping perspiration from underneath his toupee.

"Captain, the Borg are hailing us," Worf growled.

"Onscreen."

The Borg reappeared. "Oh, by the way...nice rug!"

"Uh...thanks!" Picard said.

"Bye!" The screen went black again.

The recreation room clock chimed 1700 hours.

"Jim, be careful," Bones said. "I’ve seen what a fleeb can do to a man. It isn’t pretty."

A pair of long shadows stretched across the floor, inching steps closer to one another.

"I’m...calling you...out, Benjuh...Effinchuk."

"I’m going to whoop your little hiney, Kirk. No one beats Benjuh Effinchuk, the Fleebmaster of the Galaxy."

"Considering that...fleebs are...only used on the planet...Kruse, that isn’t...that impressive, Effinchuk."

"This is all highly illogical," Spock muttered. "But necessary."

"I thought you were going to say it was ‘intriguing’ or some other such nonsense. Green-blooded Vulcan," Bones mumbled.

"Silence!" shouted Semaforo, who was overseeing the duel. "Begin the duel."

Immediately, Benjuh Effinchuk fired his fleeb at Kirk’s head. Kirk fell to the ground and rolled adroitly away from the line of fire. He stretched out his arm and fired his fleeb at Effinchuk’s feet. Effinchuk jumped out of the way.

Loud, ominous fighting music began blasting through the air as Q, Trelane, Voyager’s EMH, Janeway and Ilia appeared in folding chairs along the wall.

"You again? Get...off my ship! We’re kind of...busy...here! And what’s with...the...orchestra?"

"Just setting the mood for your barbaric little ritual," Q explained.

"Well...keep...it...down!"

"Sorry, Mr. Shatner," said the long-haired band leader, slinking away from the podium.

An errant tuba blasted one last note. "Sorry, Mr. Shatner," the tuba player mumbled sheepishly.

Before Kirk had a chance to call for a security team, Effinchuk started to exchange frighteningly ferocious flurries of fleeb fire, and the duel resumed.

"Popcorn?" Q asked, holding out a tub of butter-laden popcorn to Janeway.

"No thank you, Q. Take me back to my ship this instant!"

"Patience, patience, Kathy, dear. All in due time. For now, sit back and enjoy the show."

Janeway sulked.

A shot from Kirk’s fleeb caught Effinchuk’s long, scruffy orange hair, singeing it.

"Ow! That sucked! You’re gonna pay for that, Kirk!"

"Bite...me," Kirk said, firing again. He answered outdated slang with more outdated slang.

A fleeb beam caught Kirk in the tribble toupee, catching it on fire! The tribble began to screech in panic.

"Stop, drop and roll!" Trelane shouted before eating a handful of popcorn.

Kirk brushed the blazing tribble off his head and kicked it over to Spock. "Spock...do...something...about this!"

Spock stepped on the tribble and ground out the fire, causing it to emit a blood-curdling shriek.

"Sorry, little fella," he said, picking up the blackened tribble and petting it soothingly. The tribble soon began cooing in ecstasy.

"Why, Spock, are you showing emotion?" Bones asked.

"Who, me?" Spock said, nuzzling the smoking tribble to his cheek.

Meanwhile, Kirk and Effinchuk were still dueling. Suddenly, Kirk gave a karate kick and knocked the fleeb out of Effinchuk’s hand.

The orchestra burst into music again.

Kirk stood over the prone form of Benjuh Effinchuk, pointing the fleeb at his throat.

Semaforo stepped into the ring and held up Kirk’s hand. "The winner!" he shouted.

Q, Trelane and the orchestra applauded.

Semaforo stepped back. "You may now kiss the bride...oops! Wrong ceremony! You may now do with him what you will, Kirk."

Kirk lowered his fleeb. "I will...be merciful and...let you...live, Effinchuk. On one...condition. That you...allow the Spatulite Alliance to...live in peace...with the...Federation."

"Can he do that?" Trelane asked.

"Hey, it worked in Arena," Q said, shrugging. "You sure you don’t want popcorn, Kathy?"

"No! And stop calling me Kathy!"

"Whatever you say, Kathy."

Janeway groaned.

Effinchuk stared contemptuously up at Kirk. "Very well," he said through clenched teeth. "But you haven’t seen the last of me!"

"Yeah, yeah, that’s...what they all...say," Kirk said.

"It was very noble but weak of you to let me live. You’ll regret it." Benjuh Effinchuk got to his feet, dusted off his green and yellow shirt and stormed from the room with Semaforo in tow.

He reappeared in the doorway a few seconds later. "Come on, Asterisk! Haul your keister!"

"Aw, but Effinchuk," Asterisk said, "I haven’t finished my popcorn."

"NOW!"

"Yes, Oh Grandiose Butt-Kicking Warlord," he said, saluting.

"Who just got his butt kicked," Trelane mumbled to Ilia.

"This bathrobe is getting chilly," she said, not acknowledging the lesser omnipotent being’s foolish comment.

"Bones...is there something...that you...can do for...this...poor tribble?"

"Dammit Jim, I’m a doctor, not a veterinarian! I’ll try my best though. I’ll take the little fuzzball down to sickbay and have him...her...it, whatever, all fixed up for you before the banquet."

"Good," Kirk said, self-consciously covering up his receding hairline.

"Bob? Bob, where are you?" Sally Letterman stood just inside the door to Bob Lloyd Webber’s quarters.

"In here, Captain!" came a muffled voice from the bedroom.

Letterman froze in the doorway, her mouth open in astonishment. Bob was sitting in the middle of the floor in an enormous pile of socks.

"Hi Captain!" said a sock puppet. "How are you today?"

"Where in the world did you get all these socks?"

"Aren’t you going to answer Kenny’s question?" Bob asked. The sock puppet looked dejected.

"Uh...I’m fine. But where did all these socks come from?"

"The replicator!" Bob said. "Well, and I knitted some myself. Those are extra-special. And I sort of...borrowed some from other crew members."

"Bob, you need help."

"But I’ve been to see Counselor V’Larek. She told me to go to see Dr. Fox."

"Did you?"

"I couldn’t. Gertrude, here, ate the prescription." The other sock puppet looked guilty. "Bad, bad sock!" he scolded.

"Sorry, Bob," said Gertrude. "I was hungry. You never feed us."

"I know, Gertie, but the replicator doesn’t make sock chow."

The Captain was getting frightened. "Letterman to security."

"Lieutenant Floyd Simmons, here, Captain."

"Would you please come and take Commander Lloyd Webber to the brig for safekeeping?"

"Aye aye, Captain."

Bob’s face fell. "But there aren’t any socks in the brig."

"We’re going to get you some help, Bob."

"I don’t need help. I need socks."

Letterman sighed. V’Larek had her work cut out for her.

Q sat back in his folding chair. "You know, this whole business reminds me...I have some unfinished business to attend to. Come along, kiddies," he said, snapping his fingers.

They reappeared in Ops on DS9.

"Did you miss me?" Q asked Sisko.

"Not again," Sisko moaned. "Q, I demand you leave immediately!"

"You’d be surprised how many people say that to me. I thought you’d be more original." He wiped away an imaginary tear. "I feel so unwanted."

"That’s because you are unwanted," Kira said disgustedly.

"At least I don’t have a bumpy nose. How’s that baby you and the doctor had together...no, wait, that’s in real life. Never mind."

"What?"

"I said never mind. So...where’s everyone’s favorite goo ball?" Q asked, looking around the room. "I’ve been waiting for a rainy day to finish our duel." Instantly, rain began to pour down in Ops.

Trelane produced an umbrella. "It’s raining now!"

"Odo is in his office," O’Brien said, then clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that."

"Thanks. You win a cookie," Q said, winking himself and the others away.

O’Brien was suddenly buried under a mountain of chocolate chip cookies. Q’s disembodied voice said, "Don’t spoil your supper now!"

"Odo! Long time no see!" Q said, appearing on the security chief’s desk.

"That’s what they say when the tide is out!" Trelane said.

"That pun was uncalled for, Trelane," Q said.

"What’s with the depressing architecture?" Ilia asked.

"Cardassians," Janeway said disgustedly.

"Who?"

"Q, I don’t have time for this," Odo said.

"You wouldn’t believe how many beings say that to me too," Q said, turning to Trelane.

A grandfather clock crashed on top of Odo’s desk. "Now you have plenty of time. Let’s rumble!" The soundtrack from West Side Story wafted out of the ether.

"Q, can’t we do this some other time?" Another grandfather clock ominously floated over Odo’s head. Odo looked up at the clock. "Can’t I just take a rain check?"

"Well it is raining in most of the station right now, but...no. What’s the matter? Chicken?" Q turned himself into a chicken and clucked noisily.

Odo sighed. "Fine. Let’s get this over with quickly." He molded himself into an emu.

Q changed into a troll.

Odo changed into a fire hydrant.

Q became a chainsaw.

Odo became a candlestick, then a goat.

Q was an igloo, a chinchilla, and the Heisman trophy.

Odo followed up with a dictionary, a mutant iguana, a watermelon, and a pair of handcuffs.

Q briefly changed back to human form. "This is exhausting!" he said. "But fun!" He changed into a zebra, a piano, gravel, a banana, a Christmas wreath, a gelatinous purple tube, a Q-tip, a triple-A battery and a gas can.

"They could go on like this all night," Trelane told the ladies.

"Very interesting," Ilia said.

Odo became a golden retriever, a potato peeler, the Loch Ness monster, a hockey puck, a telephone receiver, rubber vomit and the Klopman diamond.

Q became a soccer ball, a small purple fruit, a three-eyed green alien wearing sunglasses, a can of bug spray, a hunk of cheese, a gnu, a stapler and an aardvark.

Odo stopped to catch his breath. Considering he didn’t need to breathe, this was rather pointless. He then became a safety pin, the Venus De Milo with arms, a pitchfork, a garbage can, a heart-shaped locket, a ball of yarn, a tin of ceiling wax, a pair of false teeth, a jellyfish, a jelly donut, and lump of fool’s gold.

Q disappeared.

Odo took his humanoid form. "Gave up, did you?" he yelled.

"No. Look around. I turned into the space station."

"I don’t believe you."

The floor suddenly began to ripple, and the ceiling grew eyes. "See what I mean?"

Odo sank into his chair and sighed. "You win. Happy now?"

"Yes. Quite. I’ll be back for my prize later. Ta ta."

Q, Trelane, Ilia and Janeway blinked out of existence in a flash of light.

Back in Ops, so did Captain Sisko. Kira was startled. "Uh...where did the Captain go?"

O’Brien looked around. "I don’t know."

"Me neither," said Dax.

"Oh well. He’ll be back," Kira said, shrugging. She wiped rainwater out of her eyes. "Isn’t someone supposed to be looking into this...weather?"

"Dammit, Kira, I’m an engineer, not a meteorologist!" O’Brien said. "It must have been something Q did."

Kira moaned. "I’m soaked."

A voice came over her comm badge. "Odo to Kira."

"Don’t bother me. I’m wet," she whined.

"Sorry," he said sarcastically, "but I have a bit of a situation here on the Promenade, and I can’t raise Captain Sisko."

"Yeah, he just disappeared or something. He’s around."

"Shouldn’t you be a bit more concerned about that?"

"Nah. He’s just an overly serious bald guy with a baseball obsession. Who needs him?"

"Not to mention the Emissary! And the Commander of this station!" Dax raised an eyebrow. "Kira, are you loopy on the junk?"

Kira ignored her.

Odo ignored both of them. "We have a bit of a price war going on between Quark and Garak. Raincoats are a hot commodity today."

"Can’t people just replicate their own?"

"Try telling Quark and Garak that," Odo said with a sigh. "The point is, things are getting out of hand. I need more personnel."

"They’re all trying to stop the rain," Kira said.

"Forget that. A Bolian ensign just got trampled by people on their way to Quark’s. It’s pandemonium."

"What was that about pandas?" Kira asked, blinking heavily.

Dax got up and took Kira by the shoulders. "Why don’t you go visit the doctor, Kira?"

"Sure. He’s cute," Kira said, giggling.

"Uh huh. Why don’t I walk with you?" She gave O’Brien a strange look and led Kira to the turbolift.

Odo sighed again. "Never mind. I’ll see what I can do."

O’Brien shook his head. It had been a strange day.

"`Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said; Thy edge should blunter be than appetite...’"

Chakotay frowned. The V’Ger probe had been spouting Shakespearean sonnets for the past hour.

"`Which but today by feeding is allayed; Tomorrow sharp’ned in his former might...’"

"This is getting boring," Paris said with a yawn.

Neelix scratched his head. "Is the Universal Translator broken? I can’t understand a word it’s saying!"

"That’s Shakespeare," Harry Kim said. "You’re not supposed to be able to understand it."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"`So, love, be thou; although today thou full Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness...’"

Decker sat in the V’Ger probe, dressed in tacky green tights and a bad wig. He held out a skull. "To be, or not to be...that is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them," he said dramatically. Because he was linked to the probe in a way no one ever bothered to explain, the same Q-induced stupor that had fallen over V’Ger affected him as well.

Harry Kim pressed a bunch of buttons on the console. "Commander, we’re being hailed by the Kazon."

Chakotay put a hand to his odd tattoo and sighed. "Just what I didn’t need. Captain, where are you?" He stepped toward the viewscreen. "Onscreen."

An ugly man with bad hair appeared onscreen. Of course, that was normal for a Kazon. "You are in our space, Starfleet scum."

"So?" Chakotay said. "Haven’t we been through this before?"

"Many times," Paris grumbled.

"What is that horrible babble we’re picking up from that overgrown space-toaster?" the Kazon Captain said. "Slings and arrows, and all that nonsense? It’s flooding all our frequencies! Audio, visuals, subspace, you name it! I’m even picking it up on my dentalwork!"

"Shakespeare."

"Who? What? Whatever it is, it’s dreadful!" the Kazon said, grimacing. "What’s that guy in the tights’ problem?"

"Same thing," Chakotay said. "They’re linked by some inexplicable cosmic force."

"Huh?"

"Don’t worry. No one else understands it either."

"Fine, fine," said the Kazon. "Whatever. If you don’t shut up that stupid thing immediately, we’ll blow you both into smithereens."

A tinny voice drifted from the Kazon’s dentalwork. "Hark! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Ilia is the sun!"

"That’s it! No more!" the Kazon growled. "Fire!"

"Transporter room! Beam Mr. Decker over immediately!" Chakotay said.

The Kazon ship fired, turning the V’Ger probe into a rolling fireball against the distant stars.

"Someone should have done that a long time ago," Paris said.

"Got him, sir," said the transporter operator.

Decker could be heard in the background. "Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war! Wherefore art thou, V’Ger? Alas, poor V’Ger. I knew him, Horatio. A probe of most infinite jest. Double, double, toil and--huh? Where am I? And what am I doing in these horrible tights! Arg! And I thought the pastel uniform was bad!"

"Is he all right?" Chakotay asked.

"He will be once he gets some descent clothes!"

"Yuck!" Decker moaned.

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Q floated by on his way to the Enterprise-D.

Trelane spoke up. "They can’t help it that they’re not omnipotent like us."

"Ay, there’s the rub. Come along, my boy. We have a Captain to purloin."

Picard could have cried when Q appeared on the bridge yet again. "Now what, Q? This is getting old!"

"So are you, but that’s not the point. I have some friends I’d like you to meet."

"We’re a little busy with the Borg right now."

"Stop being so dang noble, Picard," Q said. "It makes you dull. You know, we could have used you on the U.S.S. Voyager just now. But that’s behind us. And so are Sisko, Ilia, Janeway and...let’s see...Morty."

The holographic doctor frowned. "If I had a name it definitely would not be..." he said, wrinkling up his holographic nose, "Morty! What kind of name is that? I think I liked ‘Schweitzer’ better."

"Whatever, Morty," Q said, waving him off. "Now, then, come along my dear, bald little Frenchman. We have places to go, people to see. Chop, chop."

"But, Q--"

They were already gone.

Riker stood up and clapped his hands together. "Now that the Captain’s gone, let’s blow up the Borg!"

The bridge crew cheered. There was much rejoicing.

Barclay squirmed in his chair and rubbed his shoulders compulsively. "There were lemmings everywhere!" he said miserably.

Counselor Troi shook her head sadly. Barclay was in bad shape. Worse than usual, anyway. And the red alert klaxons weren’t helping his nerves. After he ran onto the bridge, screaming warnings about a lemming invasion, Riker had ordered an emergency counseling session for him. Troi was less than pleased to be drawn off the bridge during a red alert, but her duty was with Barclay at the moment. And she had to admit...this was one unique case.

"Reg," she said, leaning forward in her chair, "can lemmings really hurt you?"

"Yes! They have huge pointy teeth, and those beady little eyes..." He shuddered.

"Reg, lemmings are herbivores. They are harmless."

"That’s what they said about tribbles!" Barclay said, stomping his feet angrily.

"Well....yes, but lemmings aren’t tribbles."

"No. They’re worse. You didn’t see that terrible flying lemming on the bridge."

"That wasn’t a lemming. It was the Captain’s toupee."

"It was a lemming, I tell you! A lemming!" he shouted. He broke down and wept.

Troi sighed. She had a lot of work to do.

Riker sat in Picard’s ready room, testing out the chair. It was comfy! He could get used to this! He liked Picard and everything, but sometimes he wondered...

The console beeped.

"Riker here."

Admiral de Leon, who looked quite young for his age, appeared onscreen. "Where’s Captain Picard?"

"Q just abducted him," Riker said.

"Oh. When do you expect him back?"

"We don’t, really. That’s the thing with abductions."

"Weren’t you going to report this?"

"Sooner or later," Riker said, shrugging. "We didn’t want to disturb you with it. I mean, he goes missing like every other week."

"Oh." The admiral decided to let Riker's breach of protocol slide. "So, any new developments with the Borg?"

"They’re leaving us alone for the moment. But Alnilam is being assimilated."

"We’re putting together an armada. The U.S.S. Pegasus-B, will be joining you soon. Other ships will join as soon as the situation in Vega is cleared up."

"Is something going on in Vega?"

"Just one of those annoying space-time anomalies. Nothing to worry about."

"Oh."

"We were going to ask Picard to lead the armada, but..."

"I’ll do it!" Riker said, bolting forward so his face was right against the screen. "Pleeeeeeeze!"

"Well, I suppose."

"Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

"Try not to blow up our flagship, all right?"

"The Enterprise-D will never blow up as long as I’m on it. Crash, maybe. Get infested with evil nanites, possibly. Get taken over by hostile forces, sure. Relieved of its crew by mysterious aliens...could happen. Get caught in a temporal vortex, well, happens all the time. But blow up? No, siree."

The Admiral looked less than optimistic.