trans_9 | Queries and Quibbles--mind your Q's

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Queries and Quibbles--mind your Q's

[ooc: Read this bit.]

Something happens outside the ship. There's a concussive noise like something docking, and then the doors to Obs open again, to reveal a mostly intact, but somewhat bedraggled away team. One of them is injured, and part of the group works to get her down to MedBay, some of the others look stoic and a touch upset with what they've learned.

Some look pissed off that their various morphers and power suits have been stolen away from them again by Stacy's tentacles or dampened.

Something happens INSIDE the ship. A handful of individuals are released from their pods after quite some time of running imaginary mazes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

How did--how--

"Who the hell are you?"

"My doing? I don't know whether to be flattered of insulted." Q seems to realize that the Captain's envious of his duds, though, and his smirk seems to cut just that much wider at the thought. "You know me, Picard, I don't give answers. If you ask the right questions, you may earn useful knowledge. Or, you may just waste the opportunities I so generously provide you. C'est la vie."

He turns to regard Cybil, "Ah, Cybil. Good to see you're still among the living. I had cautious hopes for you, you know." He waggles his eyebrows Groucho Marx style, "It's Q."

"Jesus, Mary, and f&$%ing Joseph, it's f%^#in' Q!" Murphy exclaimed, pointing, gawking, elbowing his brother, grinning, and generally looking like a surprised tourist who definitely was not hiding 'plates' from the cafeteria behind his back, no sir. "F&%$!"

Apparently the twins did watch TV sometimes after all.

Picard ignored the strange man, turning instead to Cybil. "Miss Bennett, this is Q. He's a powerful, and eccentric, entity from the Q Continuum who seems to derive entertainment from mingling with we 'lesser beings'." Glancing back at Q, Picard continued his line of conversation.

"Ask the right questions ... very well." The captain paused, however, still feeling self-conscious about Q dressed in such a manner. The envy was gone, replaced by an irritation that Q still played at being a Starfleet officer while every Starfleet officer on board was still limited to the plant-suits they were wearing.

"I don't suppose you could replace these rather disturbing 'uniforms' with something more ... traditional, Q?" Picard requested. "At least, if we're going to open this conversation as old friends."

Poor Picard-- the twins weren't done yet.

"F*&%ing A, he is! Jesus, we're buildin' a Trekkie crew faster'n you can get yer rocks off." Connor elbowed Murphy, grinning. "Gotta get inta Starfleet, aye, what'd Ma think o' that?"

Q absently directs his gaze towards the twins - his adoring fans, naturally. "Hello, boys. Pay attention, you might learn something."

He waits to be introduced--since Picard just has to add his two cents every time (eccentric. Really. Tsk.)--and then winks conspiratorially at Cybil, before looking back to Picard.

"Really, the clothes are your first concern?" Q snaps his fingers, giving everyone on board a Starfleet outfit of random rank, a zoot suit, a kilt or a toga, in seemingly random fashion. Just because Picard dared to ask, mostly. "There. Now try to focus, Picard, this is a crisis, not a catwalk."

Q? Wait. She'd watched a little of the newer Trek stuff, so that's somewhat familiar, but--

Why is he so familiar?

She's about to ask "How do you know me?" when her plantsuit is changed into this:

"Oh, real funny, jackass."

From elsewhere, a squeaky voice shouts. "WHY THE HELL AM I WEARING A SKIRT?"

Murphy nearly cackled, half draped over Connor and completely comfortable in the kilt that he was now in (matched, of course, by his brother). "Ye look f¢£∞in' amazing, Pooh-Bah! Don't be putting yourself down! 'S not your average woman what can carry off that look!"

Picard couldn't help it. He laughed. Adjusting his fedora, he smirked over at Cybil before turning his gaze at Q. "I appreciate the gesture, Q, but I was referring more to a Starfleet uniform for everyone." he chuckled a bit before continuing.

"Though you're usually not so comedic, Q. Are you trying to cheer me up before we begin our conversation? One would almost think you missed me."

Ok...

"...this is different."

Not that he was complaining about the new suit. It didn't have its own pulse, for starters. Still rather unexpected...

Edited 2009-06-10 04:40 (UTC)

Worf is relieved to find himself in proper uniform. He is not, however, relieved to see that irritant, Q.

"You. Is this one of your games, Q?"

Q whistled lowly in Cybil's general direction, and added, not at all contrite, "Baby, if you've got the legs, flaunt them." He sent an amused look in Danny's direction, briefly, and then grinned at Worf. "Don't tell me you're not having fun, microbrain. This is one of the best places for you to practice growling and hitting things."

To Picard, he turned and tilted his head appraisingly. He could hardly deny that Jean-Luc looked good in that, in a roguish and barbaric human way. "Think what you want, I never could change your mind about anything." His gaze became almost reluctantly more serious, "What do you need to begin a conversation, an engraved invitation?"

Sam is just standing around, minding his own dang business and this is what he gets??

(http://s225.photobucket.com/albums/dd304/mysterio2000/Sam%20Winchester/?action=view&current=SamIndianaWinchestercross.jpg)

~~OMG! It's INDIANA Winchester!! No, Dean, that's not In Diana Winchster.~~

Ok. So maybe it's not as bad as Cybil's skanky cop-girl thing. Actually, Sammy could live with this.

Wednesday lets out a small roar of a laugh as he sees Cybil. And as he looks down at himself—well, formal tartan (http://i43.tinypic.com/2rcbxxi.jpg) is a bit unusual, but he's not going to argue with it over the alternative.

(He's still holding, for some reason, a small teddy bear.)

"Q, good sir, my wholehearted thanks," he momentarily interrupts.

Picard sobered immediately. Q was rarely, if ever, so serious, and Picard took that as seriously as he could. "Very well, Q, let's begin our conversation. What can you tell me about this ship that Stacy herself cannot tell me? I know you have answers, Q, and I intend to get them."

Q let an expression of vague appreciation cross his face, nodding to Wednesday - there'll be time to goof off over mead with gods soon enough, he's all business now.

To Picard, he says, "That everything you've seen, everything you've done up to this point is nothing compared to what you face ahead. By the time you're done, you'll probably wish I was responsible for this."

"I already figured as much, given our first mission, Q. If you want to help, then give me something I can work with! This is no time to be speaking in riddles, damn it! I need answers, something concrete! If this is so important, why doesn't the Continuum intervene? What can we do that you cannot?

"Do you want to know why I asked for uniforms for everyone? It's not out of fashion or desire, it's because I don't trust the suits Stacy has chosen to outfit us in. They're certainly alive, and who knows what they're monitoring, transmitting, or exposing people to. If you want to be an ally, Q, then help me." He paused, crossing his arms and glancing back at his crew.

"Help me help them, Q. I wasn't commissioned as commanding officer of this vessel, I was chosen. I have just as much obligation to get them home safe and sound as I did to the crew of the Enterprise.

"So answer my questions: Who built this ship? Why is so much information forbidden to us? Just what the hell is going on here?"

Edited 2009-06-10 05:40 (UTC)

"The Continuum is not your babysitter, Picard." Q lounged back, listening to the tirade with satisfaction - that's his Captain, alright, and the first and only horse he'll ever bet on in any given race. "You'll figure it out."

He tilted his head at the remark about the clothes, only just failing to hide half a smile, "Who knows indeed. They're on loan, unfortunately. You'll have to rely on Stacy's fashion sense again as soon as I'm gone."

Quirking a brow, he retorted, "Much as it may surprise you, in your limitless human arrogance, to hear it, but your obligations are completely immaterial to me."

The omnipotent being spent a few moments in silent contemplation of those heated questions, expression wavering between a nearly genuine desire to be helpful and a rather more dangerous, calculating look.

"If I were you, Jean-Luc, I'd play to win... but be prepared to take a very great loss."

And with a single pulse of light, Q was gone.

Picard hesitated, glaring icey death at the spot where Q once stood, his plant-suit now noticeably disturbing against his skin. "Damn you, Q," he whispered.

"Jean-Luc, what could he have meant? What loss?"

Wednesday snorts, interrupting again.

"It's how the proper quests always work—don't you know your mythology? There's always a sacrifice."

"I wish I knew, Cybil," Picard replied with remorse. "Q has done and said many things, manipulated, played games with, even threatened myself and my crew, but never has he made such an ominous ... prediction as that."

"It's like the borg episode." Cassie said a little too loudly.

Picard stopped. One word froze him in his tracks, and he slowly turned to the young woman who had spoken. "What did you just say?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Queries and Quibbles--mind your Q's

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