Star Trek: The Next Generation - 117 - Q are Cordially Uninvited...

by Rudy Josephs

  Picard took both hands and helped lift her to a standing position. Once up, she was still chest-deep in the cake.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” Vash said. “Q is obviously behind this little stunt. I always knew one day he’d be back.” She took in her situation. There were no footholds inside the cake. Getting fully out of it was going to take some work.

  “I believe there’s a stepstool in the hall closet,” Picard suggested.

  “That might help,” Vash agreed.

  Before Picard could leave the room, the cake suddenly disappeared, leaving Vash standing free. She was dressed for an archaeological dig, in her traditional beige. It had always been a good color on her, which not many people could say. At the moment, it set off the angry red in her face quite fetchingly as she yelled into the empty air: “If you think I’m going to thank you, Q, you’re dead wrong!”

  Vash looked like she’d rather be anyplace but there, and Picard couldn’t blame her. It was lovely to see her again, but the eve of his wedding was not the best time to receive surprise visits from exes.

  Picard had met Vash years before while vacationing on the planet Risa. Their shared passion for archaeology had bonded them immediately, though both had very different approaches to what ultimately to do with their finds. It was a visit from the ever-present thorn in Picard’s side, Q, that had forced their relationship out into the open when the omnipotent annoyance kidnapped Picard’s crew and sent them all on a merry adventure in Sherwood Forest.

  Over time, Picard and Vash had lost touch, each exploring different corners of the galaxy. They had never really broken up, in the traditional sense, since they’d never dated. It was more like their relationship was just over one day, and neither of them felt the need to acknowledge what they both knew. As Picard stood in his family guest house staring at the proverbial one that got away, he regretted not seeking closure with Vash, if only to make a situation like this somewhat less awkward.

  “What? No warm greeting?” Vash asked.

  Picard gave a curt nod. “It’s good to see you, Vash.”

  “But, clearly, my arrival is at an inopportune time?” Vash guessed. She took in the surroundings, her eyes focusing on the suit hanging on the closet door. “Romantic weekend?”

  “Something like that,” Picard said.

  “I can see how this would be bad timing,” Vash said. “Why would Q bring me here to interrupt? Is there something more going on than a rendezvous?”

  “Go ahead and tell her, Picard.” The familiar voice came from out of the air. Picard and Vash looked around the room, but the speaker was still invisible. Or it was possible that he was just very tiny. Or he was one of the throw pillows. It was so hard to tell with Q.

  “I don’t need your help, Q!” Vash called out. She focused back on Picard. “Jean-Luc?”

  His eyes fell on the small black box on the dresser. Ever the observant one, Vash turned in the direction he’d looked, a realization registering on her face. She walked over to the box and lifted the lid. Two shining gold rings sat on a bed of velvet.

  “Oh, Jean-Luc!” she said. “Someone is finally going to make an honest man of you? What a shame.”

  Picard took the velvet box from her, quickly confirming the rings were still resting securely, and snapped the lid shut. They weren’t the type of heirlooms Vash traditionally went for, but he could imagine her thinking it would be fun to make him search for his wedding rings before the ceremony. “Far be it for me to expect an offer of congratulations under the circumstances,” he said.

  “It’s Beverly, isn’t it?” Vash asked. “Doctor Crusher? I think she would make a wonderful wife for Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise.”

  Picard wasn’t sure if she was being genuine or sarcastic.

  “It is Crusher, right?” Vash was more lighthearted than concerned she had gotten it wrong. “Or has someone else snagged your heart?”

  “You are correct. Beverly and I are set to marry tomorrow evening.”

  Vash took in the empty room. “So this is your bachelor party? Kind of sparse. Where’s Riker? And the rest of your band of merry men?”

  “We were hoping to keep things low-key.”

  “Now at least I understand why Q brought me here,” Vash said.

  “I certainly don’t.”

  The bright glow from a flash of light lit the room behind Picard. It was hardly surprising when Q spoke: “Isn’t it obvious? We’re here to celebrate your final night of freedom.”

  Picard spun on Q. “I will not partake in any antiquated, misogynistic customs.”

  Q looked at Vash and smiled. “This from the man spending his last night sleeping in a separate room from his bride-to-be.” He now looked to Picard. “Can’t put that genie back in the bottle.”

  “I think it’s quaint,” Vash said, playing along. “But I hope you didn’t bring me here to play the role of temptress. I’ve moved on, Q. Clearly, so has Jean-Luc.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Q replied. “I’m here just to see to it that Picard is sure he’s making the right decision. To know that he’s considered what he could be giving up when there’s a vast galaxy of possibilities out there to explore.”

  “Thank you, Q,” Picard said, hoping that appreciation was a better route than outrage. “But I am perfectly fine with making these kinds of decisions on my own. I really don’t need your assistance.”

  “Nonsense!” Q said. “I’m only doing what is expected of me. It’s my responsibility as your best man.”

  “Best man!” Picard laughed. “If you think—”

  “Who else is here to stand up for you?” Q said. “I don’t see any numbers one, two, three, or four around. That’s why you need someone like me here. Not only will I stand up for you, I’ll make sure there’s a getaway shuttle waiting when you get cold feet.”

  Picard knew that it was pointless to debate Q on the matter. Better to just wait him out to see what his endgame was. Instead of arguing, he sat in the nearest chair and crossed one leg, assuming a posture of relaxation.

  Vash still looked ready to fight, but she focused on Picard sitting in his chair before saying anything. Her silent question was answered when he nodded to another chair. Following his lead, she took the other seat in the room, adopting a similarly relaxed pose.

  “Wonderful!” Q said. “I see you two are willing to play along.”

  Neither of them said a word as they waited for Q to make his reveal. Their refusal took some of the wind from his sails, but he pressed on. “It’s about adventure, Jean-Luc. Oh, I know life is very exciting on that starship of yours. But if you settle down, you will literally be married to Starfleet for the rest of your life. No chance of escape. No way to chuck it all and do what you want.”

  There were so many things wrong with Q’s assumptions that Picard didn’t know where to start. He didn’t bother. This was Q’s show. Nothing he said would even be heard.

  Vash did not share his patience. “What are you proposing, Q?”

  Q’s eyes sparkled. Literally: He’d added a magical gleam to them. “One last adventure. The archaeological discovery to end all discoveries.”

  Vash did not hide her interest. Picard knew it was trouble, but he couldn’t help that part of him that perked up at the thought. Q always brought with him the promise of adventure. Regretfully, adventure was always matched with danger, but Q knew how to get under Picard’s skin better than anyone. While he could be relatively clueless about things like politeness or social norms, he did know Picard, much to the captain’s chagrin. Whatever Q was about to offer would be tempting, but only in the most dramatically horrible fashion, Picard was certain.

  Q raised his arm in a flourish. “The Treasure of the Ancients awaits!”

  Picard barely had a moment to register the look of awe mixed with avarice in Vash’s eyes before Q snapped his fingers and they both disappeared.

  3

  Picard steadied himself on his feet. It was uns
etting to be sitting one moment, then standing the next. He was also surprised to find that he was no longer indoors and—if the design of the crumbling buildings around him were any indication—no longer on Earth.

  Picard shouted Q’s name in frustration. It was a call he’d made countless times over the years. The treacherous prankster rarely answered. Still, he wanted to register his displeasure. “I do not have time for these games! Return me home immediately!”

  As expected, he was met with nothing but the sound of the wind.

  “Unbelievable,” he said in frustration. “Vash, I’m sorry you got . . . Vash?”

  Wherever they’d been sent, it was daytime. The temperature was mild, the sky was clear, and the streets were empty. For a moment, Picard feared that he was completely alone, but he spied Vash a block away, staring up at a two-story building. It was impossible that she hadn’t heard him yelling out to Q. Something else must have held her attention.

  Picard made his way down the road, quickly but carefully. The town in which they’d been deposited seemed to have been abandoned long before, but that didn’t mean danger couldn’t lurk around every corner.

  When he reached Vash, he saw that she was staring at some writing on the wall in an alien script he didn’t recognize. The lettering was carved into the building, though the edges of some of the characters had long since chipped away. Even if they had been perfectly preserved, Picard doubted they could translate the words.

  “Jean-Luc, we can’t be on Myndra,” Vash said, taking in their surroundings. “Can we?”

  “The planet Myndra is a myth,” Picard replied. “As much of a legend as the Treasure of the Ancients. This is just another one of Q’s re-creations, like Sherwood Forest.”

  Vash seemed skeptical. “If his goal is to entice you into canceling your wedding, why would he send us to someplace fake? Making one of the most sought-after archaeological discoveries in the history of the universe only to find out it isn’t real wouldn’t exactly serve his purpose.”

  “Honestly, Vash, I thought you would have tired of Q’s games by now.”

  Vash shrugged him off as she marched down the street. “Q took me to some incredible worlds in our time together. As challenging as he was as a traveling companion, he came through on his promises. Why wouldn’t you believe he sent us off to find the Treasure of the Ancients? Think of it, Jean-Luc. A race of pirates traveling the galaxy, plundering pre-warp civilizations of their greatest treasures! Imagine what we could find!”

  Picard hurried to catch up with her. “Where are you going?”

  “Beats me,” she said. “To search for a clue or something. Prove to you that we’re where I think we are.”

  Picard stopped following her. “I don’t care if we’re on Myndra or Shangri-La or Hades. I am getting married tomorrow.” He yelled out to the air: “Q, return me to Earth immediately!”

  Vash paused in her search and waited before taking a few steps back to Picard. “You didn’t really expect that to work, did you?”

  “Not particularly,” Picard replied. “But it was worth a try.”

  “Okay, well, now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, let’s give this treasure hunt a shot.”

  “I am only interested in finding a way home,” Picard insisted, remaining firmly where he was.

  “That’s going to be a little difficult, considering we don’t even know where we are,” Vash said. “According to the rumors, Myndra is somewhere in the Delta Quadrant. What do you plan to do, stand on the tallest mountaintop and wait for a starship to pass by?”

  “There may be some kind of communications system,” Picard suggested. “Piggyback on to that alien relay system Voyager used to make contact with Starfleet.”

  Vash motioned toward the buildings. “Jean-Luc, look around. Some of these buildings are barely standing. It’s been decades since anyone lived in this city. Centuries, maybe. What do you think the odds are that a communications system would even work?”

  Vash made a good point. At one time, the buildings on this street had been impressive. Most of them had been constructed with some combination of natural stone and glasslike substance that held up surprisingly well. The stone was crumbling in spots, but none of the “glass” Picard could see had even the hint of a crack in it.

  Upon closer examination, it was the few buildings that were made from some other, unrecognizable material that were in jeopardy of coming down. Most of the structures in the vicinity suffered only cosmetic damage—layers of dirt collecting on the face of the buildings and the like. It gave Picard hope that he could find something in the remnants of this civilization.

  “Assuming for a moment that we are on Myndra and the Treasure of the Ancients is real,” he allowed. “If that is all true, then the legends tell us that the Myndrans possessed incredibly advanced technology. Transporters that could take their alleged spoils from all over the galaxy. Why would you assume it wouldn’t function now?”

  “Because no matter how advanced their technology was, it didn’t stop them from dying out, fleeing, or whatever it is that forced them off the planet,” Vash said.

  “The Borg,” Picard replied, as he took over Vash’s search of the street. One of the buildings had to have some kind of technology inside. “Common belief is that the Borg assimilated the Myndrans and their planet.” He waved his hand in the same motion Vash had used a moment earlier. “These buildings have obviously not been assimilated by the Borg.”

  “Some treasure hunter could have started that rumor to scare people off the scent,” Vash said.

  “You always have an answer for everything,” Picard said.

  “You used to like that about me,” she retorted. “Look, either you believe in the treasure or you don’t. I choose to believe.”

  “It is more about my belief in Q,” Picard countered. “I do not trust him, and while you may be willing to go off on some wild adventure, I prefer to focus on returning to Beverly.”

  “Who’s to say we can’t do both?” Vash asked.

  Before Picard could reply, a worrisome sound interrupted their argument: the collected growls of a pack of animals off in the distance. The noises were loud, ominous, and growing closer.

  * * *

  Across the cosmos, the object of Picard’s affection placed her padd beside the bed in anticipation of some late-night reading. Beverly expected she was going to get very little sleep. Crusher thought she had long since grown beyond the youthful excitement of a sleepless night in anticipation of her wedding. It wasn’t even her first marriage. But she and Jean-Luc had been dancing around their feelings for years. Decades. Tomorrow would make it official, and she found herself almost giddy at the thought.

  It didn’t help that she was in a strange bedroom on Earth, either. Her quarters on the Enterprise weren’t as lush as this guest room. And the thought of sharing quarters with Jean-Luc both excited her and made her wary. She wasn’t used to living with someone. Sure, they had spent a lot of time in one another’s quarters, but Jean-Luc had insisted on keeping separate quarters while they courted. As captain he had to keep up appearances, even though the entire crew knew of their relationship.

  Crusher found the old-world charm of the decor of the guest room in Jean-Luc’s ancestral home comforting. It was the kind of room that was meant to be viewed in candlelight. The plush, overstuffed chairs and luxurious bedding looked so enticing for a restful night. Certainly, it was homier than the captain’s quarters on the Enterprise.

  But Crusher had grown accustomed to the hum of the engines through the bulkheads and the subtle sensation of motion the inertial dampers could not completely eliminate. The doctor had been in space so long, she wasn’t sure how sleeping in a stationary room on solid ground would affect her, even if her mind hadn’t been busy anticipating every moment of the coming day.

  Crusher slipped beneath the covers and leaned over to grab the padd, deciding that maybe reading one of Jean-Luc’s potboiler mysteries might lull her to sleep, when
she felt a sudden added weight to the bed, as if someone was beside her.

  Jean-Luc?

  But she was facing the door to the hallway. It was still open a crack, the way she had left it earlier. There was no way he could have slipped in unnoticed.

  Clutching the padd as a weapon, she spun on the bed. The fear she felt was immediately replaced by shock and anger. “Q!”

  “The one and only,” he said from beneath the covers. “Well, scratch that. But the best one, at least.”

  Crusher was on her feet beside the bed, still clutching the padd. She no longer felt like she was under physical threat, just emotionally wary. “Get out of my room.”

  “Now, now, there’s no reason to greet me that way.” Q sat up in bed. Thankfully, he wore a Starfleet uniform, as was his habit whenever he made a visit. It looked even more out of place on him in the French provincial surroundings. Q patted the mattress beside him as if welcoming her return, then stopped, contemplative. “There’s something vaguely familiar about this scene.”

  Crusher didn’t have a clue what he was referring to, which was par for the course with Q. It didn’t matter. She had more pressing concerns. “Why are you here? Where is Jean-Luc?”

  “What makes you think I didn’t come here to see you?” he asked.

  “Experience.” Crusher’s husband-to-be had become a regular plaything for Q. It was unlikely that he popped up here without visiting his old friend, Captain Picard, first. Crusher was suddenly more concerned for Jean-Luc than she was for herself.

  “Funny you should talk about experience,” Q said, while fluffing up her pillows so he could get more comfortable. It was not a good sign. “Have you considered that your own experience with marriage might be intimidating to a first-timer like Jean-Luc?”

  Crusher refused to be baited. She ignored him, placing her padd down on the nightstand before sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs across the room. “What do you want, Q?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

  “I brought you a gift,” he said. “Shouldn’t that be obvious? It is the night before your wedding, after all.”