Nobody said anything.
“Good,” I said. I stepped around the Stentorian, giving him my heel by way of a parting gift.
Everyone was duly impressed, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I now walked up to the guard, daring him to block my way.
He didn’t budge.
I frowned and prepared to dispatch him as I had the Stentorian.
Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. I pushed hard. Wrinkles were creasing my forehead, and beads of sweat were running down my face. The crowd began to notice something was up.
If this guard continued to stand in my way and I did nothing about it, I might very well be inviting problems I couldn’t handle. The only thing preventing me from getting my head handed to me was that they thought me all-powerful. I had no desire to disillusion them. I was now trying to figure out how I was going to get myself out of this jam.
That was when I heard a voice from within. A female voice that I knew all too well.
“Q, I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Yes, I’m sure you have,” I said. The guard stepped aside and I entered the Presence.
It was a huge auditorium off the lobby, with a proscenium stage flanked by columns that rose to a glittering domed ceiling. The walls were festooned with murals, all depicting acts of violence. The oldest sins in the oldest kinds of way.
M was seated in the center of the stage, in one of the most lavish chairs I’d ever seen, with huge clawed feet, and a massive carved bird for a backrest representing justice rising from the ashes. She was not especially tall, but she had an annoyingly regal bearing, with close-cropped red hair, and a steely glimmer in her eyes. She was swathed in a great purple robe, and she wore her arrogance like a lowcut negligee. Supplicants lay at her feet attending to her every wish.
“Greetings, Q,” she said. “It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough, M.” My eyes narrowed. “Why do you need guards, oh powerful one?”
“Those? They’re for display. Nothing more.” Her voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
“Really. I think they’re here because your power is no longer infinite.”
“That’s a charming theory. And if you had any lead in your pencil you’d be able to test it. But, alas, you don’t.” She rose from her chair. “You know, I had hoped that if I wound up face to face with any of your insufferable Continuum, it would be you. Apparently things do work out for the best.”
“What are you doing here, M?”
“Why, I’m the Adjudicator, Q. Surely you must have determined that for yourself. All around us is chaos. A frenzy of fire and destruction, fueled by hatred, nurtured by fury. It is my job to bring order to disorder.”
“Is it now?” I folded my arms. “And how did you get this job? Did you answer a Help Wanted ad?”
She smiled with all the personal warmth of a spitting viper. “When I arrived here, it was simply the job that I had. It is my place within the grand order of things.”
“How very humble of you, M. It’s quite unlike you to know your place.”
She rose from her chair and pointed at me in a preemptive fashion, her voice quite strident. “I disagree, Q. That has been not only my strength, but the strength of the entire M Continuum. We know and understand our place in the natural order of things. You—in particular—never have. It is you who are the incarnation of chaos and disorder. You do what you wish, when you wish, leaving nothing but anger and resentment in your wake. Your exploits are notorious. And now you have reaped the whirlwind.” She adjusted her slip in a provocative way that suggested she had other things on her mind as well, and then she sat down.
I considered for a moment and then took a step toward her. “Are you saying you’re not behind what’s happening all around us?”
“I am but a player, Q, content with my part.”
“And who is behind it, then?”
She shrugged. “That is not my part. I do not know, nor do I care. I sense the End of the universe and am satisfied that I have done right by that universe. My conscience is clear, my business in order. How is your conscience, Q?”
“I’m not concerned about my conscience just now, M, thank you,” I said stiffly. “What I’m worried about are my wife and my son. Where are they?”
“How would I know, and why would I care?”
“I suspect you do know.”
“You suspect wrong. Indeed, the fact that you’re here without them should be sufficient proof to you. I sensed your presence the moment you arrived. So if other members of your pathetic Continuum had come as well, don’t you think I would have brought them here?” She stroked her chin thoughtfully. “A son, you say. How very interesting. That is a new development, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and no concern of yours,” I said quickly, beginning to regret I’d brought them up at all.
“This is my place, Q. My concerns are what I say they are, not what you say they are. I am your host,” she said and smiled. “You are here and still alive at my pleasure.”
“I see.”
She shrugged. “Everything here is as I wish it to be. It’s not your place to judge me, but rather mine to judge you.” Then she looked at me with open curiosity. “A son? A mate? Are those truly your priorities?”
“They are my immediate concerns, yes.”
“Well, well . . . you have changed, Q. I’m not altogether certain it’s for the better, but you have changed. I wouldn’t have thought you capable of it.”
“You said you don’t know where they are. I believe you.”
She laughed curtly at that. “Do you? How kind of you.”
“And since you have no clearer idea than I as to who or what is behind this . . . this pit, this sinkhole in which we are all descending, then, if you’ll allow me, I’ll take my leave.”
Immediately, two of the guards stood in my path.
“It’s not that easy, Q,” said M. “I’ve waited forever for this moment. You, who have sat in judgment on so many others, you are now going to have others sit in judgment upon you.”
“I’ve had the pleasure of these proceedings already in my own Continuum,” I told her.
“Ah, but that was a jury of your peers. Here, you are being tried,” and she cocked an eyebrow smugly, “by your superior.”
“In your dreams, M.”
“That’s right, Q. In my dreams. This is all my dream, one of my more pleasant fantasies. And you have had the abominable luck to be in the wrong fantasy at the wrong time.”
Light suddenly flared, and I found myself standing in a courtroom dock. There was a railing around me that was waist high, certainly nowhere near high enough to contain me. However, I was sure the guards could adequately take care of that job.
I summoned my full strength, my carefully contained rage, and struck out against M. She could feel me, and she reacted to it. I could see her blink against the strain; she actually had to fight it off. But she tried to make it appear effortless, and she very nearly managed. There was a bead of sweat trickling down her brow, and she said, “A hit, a palpable hit, Q. But not remotely strong enough. Don’t you understand what you are drawing strength from is not your own puissance, but mine? You have no more power than I allow you to have.”
“You’re certainly full of yourself tonight, M. But then, you always were, just as the rest of your kind. So what do you propose? A kangaroo court with yourself as judge?”
Two Tellarites were standing toward the front of the line, and one of them shouted, “Wait! Why is he being treated in a special manner? We’ve all been waiting here! We have rights! We came to you to adjudicate! He should be made to wait his turn!”
“Indeed?” said M coolly. “You have a dispute?”
“Yes!” said the Tellarite, and he pointed at the Tellarite standing next to him. “He stole my most precious . . .”
We never got to find out what the Tellarite had stolen. M snapped her fingers, and the head of the Tellarite imploded. It
was very theatrical. He collapsed to the floor and was caught on the way down by one of the guards, who hauled him out. The only sound to be heard was the clanking of the guard’s armored feet as he left the auditorium.
“Does anyone else mind waiting?” inquired M in that sulky voice of hers.
All the beings in the auditorium quickly and vigorously shook their heads “no.”
“M,” I said reasonably, “this isn’t going to solve anything.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” It was the first flash of temper I’d seen from her, but once it started to roll there was no stopping it. “I disagree, Q. You insufferable prig. You think I haven’t watched you and your activities? Witnessed your smugness, your self-satisfaction, acting as if you are better than anyone else. How dare you! How dare you behave in such a fashion, when you know that in truth we of the M Continuum are better than you?”
“You’re ridiculous,” I replied. “The reason I know you’re ridiculous is because no one of the Q Continuum would bother with this . . . this . . . exercise of yours when so much is at stake. The End of Everything is nigh! What possible goal is going to be accomplished by subjecting me to some absurd trial?”
“The goal? The goal is to pay you back for the aggravation you’ve given both me and others in your lifetime, Q! And that’s quite a long lifetime! The goal is to hurt you, to humiliate you, to make you feel my wrath!”
“Your wrath? Your wrath? Do you think I give a damn about your wrath?” There was no anger in my voice. If anything, I sounded tired, even patronizing. “Woman, your priorities are so far out of whack that it’s literally not even worth discussing. That’s always been the problem with your Continuum, M. You’re so convinced that you are the center of everything. We clearly have problems beyond even our understanding—that should be enough to tell you that something is seriously wrong; but no, all you can do is bring it back to yourself. You may have the upper hand right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re playing it well. Time’s running out for me as fast as it is for you.”
“Shut up!” she snapped.
Understand, dear reader, that I am not easily given to fear. All right, it’s true, I slept with the night-light on until I was thirteen, but after that I became fearless. And speaking from the position of a relatively fearless individual, I have to say that her rage at that point was truly frightening. I had made up my mind to stop arguing with her, but she beat me to it. A huge clamp sprang into existence and wrapped itself across my mouth. I pulled at it with all my might but was unable to yank it free.
M’s face was now purple. She snarled, “I am tired of listening to you! This is my trial, and you have no say in the matter. You . . . you—!” For a moment it seemed as if her rage was going to consume her, and then—with obvious efforts—she forced herself to calm down. She took several long, deep breaths before she managed to rein herself in. When she did, the fire was still in her eyes, but her voice had achieved a measure of calm. “I am not unreasonable,” she said. One could have fooled me on that score, and I would have said as much, if I didn’t have a verbal chastity belt around my mouth. “You will need someone to speak on your behalf, since you appear to have lost your voice.” Better than losing my reason, I thought.
She nodded to two of the guards, and they exited the chamber. I was puzzled as to where they were going, but the question was quickly answered when I saw, of all people, Picard and Data escorted in. They looked filthy, but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear. It was not until I saw them that I realized I’d actually missed them. I then mentally chided myself. I certainly didn’t want them to know that such sentiments were crossing my mind. That wouldn’t do. One had to maintain some measure of decorum, after all.
Picard, for his part, took one look at my trussed-up mouth and promptly smiled. That figured. The universe collapsing around our ears, and he would find it funny that I had a large clamp across my mouth. His priorities were as out of sync as M’s.
“We found these two wandering about,” M said to me, sounding almost conversational, as if she expected me somehow to be able to reply. “They asked about you immediately. Curious how you didn’t inquire as to their whereabouts. Why is that?”
Naturally I couldn’t respond. To my surprise, Picard offered an explanation. “Obviously, considering the condition in which you’re holding him, Q knew he was in a hostile environment. In such a situation, he likely thought it wise not to reveal our presence.”
That sounded very convincing. I nodded my consent. It was, in fact, not remotely true, but any port in a storm, I say.
“Indeed,” M said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have thought Q to be so . . . aware.” Boy, was she milking it! She also still wasn’t showing any outward effects from the heat. Considering I was sweating, my clothing stuck to my body, I envied her relative “cool.”
“Who are you?” demanded Picard.
M appeared amused at the stridency of his tone. “I am the one who holds your existence in my hands, little man. So I would be circumspect if I were you. You may call me . . . M.” She tugged on her lower lip pensively. “On second thought . . . no. No, you may not. Do you know something, little man? I can’t say that I like you. Hmm. No, no I can’t. Sit down over there and be quiet.” She then pointed to Data. “You shall serve in Q’s defense.”
“In what way does Q require defending?” asked Data.
“He needs all the defending he can get . . . and make it amusing! Now, take your place next to your client.” She placed her hands serenely on the armrests of the great chair and waited for Data and Picard to take their prescribed positions.
Picard and Data regarded each other for a moment in mutual puzzlement, and then Picard—naturally taking command—indicated to Data with a nod of his head that he should do as M had instructed. Picard then turned to me and said softly, “Considering the circumstances in which we first met, I would think this to be a rather ironic turnaround, wouldn’t you?”
I glared at him, making it clear I didn’t find it remotely ironic. I couldn’t believe what was going on . . . everyone had an ax to grind!
Data, to his credit, seemed perfectly capable of going along with whatever M chose to toss at him. “Since we are put in the position of having to defend Q, may I ask what precisely are the charges against him?”
“Of course.” M snapped her fingers and a lengthy list appeared in her hands. “Q is charged with not knowing his place. With excessive arrogance. With interfering in the lives of other beings. With being the living incarnation of death, destruction, and despair. But most of all, it is Q who is responsible for the End of the universe. This is all his doing.”
I was chomping at the bit, literally, to give her a piece of my mind. But all I could do was stare at her bug-eyed in disbelief. She continued.
“I did not realize it before, because I had not given the matter adequate judicial consideration, but now I understand that Q’s presence here is not mere happenstance. It was meant to be, because the ultimate purpose of this court is to find who is to blame for our current state, and to punish him accordingly. Q is the only one here who could possibly be to blame. Therefore, he must be guilty!!”
There was a cheer from the onlookers. It didn’t matter to them whether what she said made sense or not. They were so consumed by a need to blame someone, to punish someone, that reason simply wasn’t an issue.
I would have laughed out loud, had I been able to.
“Obviously,” Data said smoothly, “all other considerations are insignificant compared to your final charge. It does appear, though, to be without foundation. What proof have you that that is the case?”
“What proof do I need?” said M. “I say it. Therefore, it is true.”
“You are serving as both prosecutor and judge,” Data pointed out. “That is not reasonable. A judge must be impartial. You cannot serve both functions and do an adequate job.”
“My function will be what I desire it to be, not what you desire it to be!”
&nb
sp; “That, madam, makes no sense. You are allowing your anger to cloud your judgment.”
“My judgment and faculties are quite clear, thank you for your concern.” She rose from her chair. “Let me put things into perspective. The Q Continuum, as well as the M Continuum, is one of the keystones of the universe. We hold everything together. That is our purpose, our reason for being, our place within the universe. But while the M Continuum has continued in its duties, the Q Continuum has abrogated its responsibilities. The Q simply sit about, consumed by boredom, caring for nothing, least of all their obligation for keeping the great universal machine running smoothly. And because of that, like a mechanism devoid of lubricant, the universe has broken down. And this Q is the worst of a bad lot!” She descended from her chair. “He struts! He preens! He boasts of his superiority when clearly the M are superior! He brings chaos wherever he goes. He is a black mark for all of us, and he has upset the universal balance!”
“The universal balance?” asked Data. “I am afraid that such a notion is not codified by any law that exists on any planet. You cannot try him based upon law that is being fabricated on the spot.”
“Of course I can. Have you never heard of precedent, Data?” she said scornfully. “Someone has to set precedent. I shall explain the concept to you: everyone behaves improperly at some time or another. You, Picard, everyone,” she said and gestured to the spectators, “even, on rare occasions, members of the M Continuum misbehave. Each of these improper actions has a small but definite ripple effect. These ripple effects are directly proportionate to the size of the being’s importance in the grand scheme of things.”
“Now when the Q Continuum abrogated its responsibility, or when members of its Continuum behaved in the abominable manner that Q has . . . that causes much greater ripples because they are more significant in the grand scheme of things. And the ripples that they have caused over time have brought us to the state that we are now in! Why, all this . . . all this misery . . . is a direct result of their actions! It’s his fault! His fault! His fault!”
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