I,Q

by John de Lancie

  I licked my cracked lips, tried to speak and got nothing but a dry rattle. I cleared my throat and then called out over the wind. I wanted to make a lengthy speech; I wanted to say something long and memorable and pithy. Ultimately, all I was able to get out was three words. But they were enough to summarize my sentiments on the matter.

  “I love you.” And then I turn away once more, knowing in my heart that if another lightning bolt struck me it would be the end.

  And then I heard his voice, crying out above the storm, crying out as if calling from the abyss.

  “Father! Don’t go! Don’t leave me.” He started to run. His arms and legs pumped furiously as he charged across the plain, and incredibly, with each step he took toward me, he shrank a little, as if he were running across the years. The pain, the anger, the anguish evaporating with his every step. And when he leaped into my arms he was the child I remembered, and he was sobbing so violently that it convulsed his little body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t go, don’t go, I want to stay with you, please, don’t go,” a torrent of words that I could barely separate one from the other.

  I couldn’t calm him, and I didn’t even try. All I did was hold him tightly, far more tightly than I ever had, and I kept whispering to him over and over that everything would be all right, that everything would work itself out.

  “Q, look up!” shouted Picard, and he pointed to the sky.

  A massive column of flame was coming toward us, like a tornado of fire. It moved quickly across the plains and bore down on us, and from within came a howling such as I had never heard.

  “Sodom and Gomorrah,” I heard Picard say.

  Was it possible? Was it possible that we were facing something that had once walked the earth and formed the basis of an entire religion? Or were we seeing some imitator who was copying the essence of another, greater being? There were so many possibilities. However, not a single one of them was pertinent to the immediate concern, which should have focused not on theology, but on another, preeminent consideration.

  “We’ve got to get out of here!” I shouted.

  “No argument there!” Picard returned, and he was already in motion. I grabbed q, slung him under my arm, and we ran.

  Whatever, and his ball of fire, came right after us, voicing its fury. “You have broken the bargain! Now feel My wrath!” it howled in biblical fashion.

  We reached the tent and the hall of mirrors. I glanced at the reflections. There was nothing. That didn’t seem to bode well either.

  “Maybe he won’t follow us!” q said.

  “We can’t take that chance,” Picard told him.

  “That’s right, we can’t!”

  We dashed out the front of the tent and ran as far as our legs could carry us. I risked a glance behind me and saw the tent shaking, quivering wildly. Tears in the fabric were ripping through the upper reaches of the structure. Wind and flames blasted out of the top of the tent, and I knew then that we had a serious problem brewing.

  “Keep going!” I shouted.

  “Where?”

  “Anywhere. Just away from the tent!”

  “Where’s Mother?” called q. “Maybe she could—?”

  “I don’t know! I wish I did, but I don’t!”

  We kept running right through the bazaar, knocking over stands and crashing into people. People already knew something was wrong. Many were on their hands and knees praying in assorted languages, and pointing in the direction of the great tent.

  And then the top of the tent blew open, and a fireball leaped heavenward. It paused a moment above the tent, as if looking for its prey, and then started moving . . . toward us.

  We ran, and kept on running. All around us was panic, people stampeding this way and that, blocking our path.

  “We need someone to push through!” shouted Picard. “I’d give anything to have Data right now!”

  “All right,” q said, and he snapped his fingers. To the shock of not only Picard but myself, Data appeared in a flash of light. He looked around, a bit confused.

  I turned q around and said, “You have your powers?!”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “You said it yourself . . . the longer you’re in a place, the—”

  “Get us out of here!” I told him.

  The ground began to shake. The fireball bore down on us.

  “Hurry up!” I said.

  “I’m trying! I’m trying, but it’s not working!” he cried out, and he pointed at the fireball. “He’s blocking it! He’s really mad at me, Father!”

  “I think I’ve figured that out.”

  I grabbed q and we started moving again, knowing that we were only buying seconds at most. The column of “divine fury” smashed toward us, destroying everything in its path. The ground was trembling so violently we could barely stand up. Tents, items, people were all yanked heavenward, tumbling about helplessly. I had a brief glimpse of the nagus being hauled into the air, shouting, “Wait! Wait! Let’s make a deal!” And suddenly we were at a dead end. A wall of fire as high as a mountain blocked our way. The god had won. I had no cards left to play.

  The universe is dying, I thought. I have my son in my arms, but my wife is still missing. I did everything I could, and it wasn’t enough . . . I give up . . . I give up . . . I give up . . .

  And then we were suddenly sliding into the void, the ground melting under us. “Father, don’t let go!” shouted q, and I didn’t.

  And all was blackness.

  My next thought . . .

  My next thought was that I was buried alive.

  There was dirt everywhere: in my eyes, in my ears, in my mouth, everywhere. I flailed about, trying to pull myself up, and was struck by how soft the dirt was.

  Next, I felt a hand clasped firmly onto the back of my shirt, and I was extricated from my shallow grave. It was Data who pulled me out. I was forced to the conclusion that he was a handy fellow to have around. He was covered with dirt too; obviously he’d been in the same situation, but had managed to liberate himself from it far more quickly.

  “Have you got him?” I heard Picard say.

  “Yes,” replied Data. I lay there, on the ground, my heart racing. Then q ran up to me and embraced me, and this time I didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, patting him on the back and whispering to him how happy I was to see him.

  “Where are we, Father?” asked q.

  As was becoming the case far too often, I had absolutely no idea.

  It was muggy, though; that was for sure. The air was thick with the humidity. It seemed as if once there had been a jungle here, but the trees had been cut down, and now there was nothing but mud everywhere.

  Picard and q were filthy. Apparently Data had been the first to extricate himself before helping the others. I turned to my son and said, “q? Can you clean us off? Can you make us clean?”

  He concentrated a moment and then looked rather surprised. “No! I . . . I can’t. What’s happened, Father? What am I doing wrong? Why can’t I . . . ?”

  I put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing you’re doing wrong. It happens. It’s happened to me ever since I climbed into the crevice. You were fortunate . . . for a time. But I guess your luck has run out.” I looked around, feeling a creeping apprehension. “I just hope it hasn’t run out for all of us.”

  “Did you hear that?” Data said suddenly, peering off into the distance.

  “Hear what?” I asked, concentrating. And then I heard it as well. It was a distant moaning.

  What was even more disturbing was that the moaning had no emotion attached to it, as if it served no purpose except to remind the moaners that they were still alive.

  “Father,” q said slowly, “I . . . don’t think I want to be here.”

  “Your mother’s there,” I said.

  And q nodded slowly. “I know . . . I feel it too . . . that’s why . . .” His voice began to choke up.

  “. . . Why what, son?”

  “That’s why I don’
t want to be here.”

  I couldn’t believe he would say such a thing. I dropped to one knee and looked him in the eye. “What are you saying, q? Are you saying you don’t want to help her?”

  “No one can help her,” he whispered, and he was trembling. “And I . . . I don’t want to see her like that.”

  “Of course we can help her; by just being with her we can help her,” I said firmly. “Are we not Q?”

  “Are you sure she’s here?” asked Picard.

  I nodded.

  And so we set out to find her.

  Considering everything that we had been through, it was a remarkably easy trip. No one tried to attack us or kill us. In fact, we didn’t encounter another living soul. There was just the bleak surroundings that might very well have been lovely, once upon a time. But now the vegetation was dead and rotting.

  “You know what it’s like?” Picard said after a time.

  “No, Picard, what’s it like?”

  “It’s as if . . . it’s as if all the plant life around here . . . gave up.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But is such a thing possible?”

  He shrugged and we continued walking.

  As we were drawing closer to the moans, the sounds became less pronounced. Had some people simply stopped moaning? Or had they died?

  We then saw a cluster of huts just ahead of us. They were small and wretched, and some of them appeared on the verge of falling over.

  People were scattered about on the ground.

  They looked desperately ill.

  Some of them were huddled together. Others were sitting by themselves, staring off into space. I saw one woman with her legs curled up under her chin, rocking back and forth and singing softly to herself.

  Every last one of them was emaciated. They looked like skeletons with aspirations of life. Their clothes were for the most part in shreds. A good number of them were naked, and that was the most horrifying of all. Their eyes were sunken, their skin sallow. A number of them were making the moaning sounds that we’d heard before. Others were silent.

  Picard was trying to keep his composure, but he was unable to hide the revulsion that he obviously felt. And Data . . .

  Data began to sob.

  There were no tears. But the emotions were there, his chest heaving, his eyes closing against the despair he saw all around him. Picard put a firm hand on his shoulder and said, “Steady, Data, steady,” but Picard was having a hard time hold himself together as well.

  I knew exactly how he felt.

  We had come through obstacle after obstacle, challenge after challenge expressly designed to beat us down, to sway us from our course. We’d been battered, bruised, and blown up, and all along the way I had kept hoping that somehow it would get better. That we would find answers. That we would find improvement. But it didn’t seem to be so; if anything, it was getting worse.

  And this was most definitely the worst yet. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional whimper. The misery that surrounded us was almost too much to take.

  “We’ve hit bottom,” whispered Picard, and I knew he was right. This was it. It couldn’t get any worse. That wasn’t self-delusion; that was just the truth.

  I picked a man at random, a man who was just sitting there. An Orion. If anyone had fight in them, it was Orions. He was easily the most scrawny Orion I had ever seen, but Orions were among the most savage of races. Only Klingons surpassed them for sheer nastiness. “You,” I said, approaching him kindly. “We need answers. Who’s behind this? How long have you been here? How did you come to . . . ?”

  He fell over. He wasn’t dead; he just fell over. It was simply as if he had run out of whatever meager energy was required to keep him upright, a puppet with his frayed strings cut. And then he looked up at me . . . just looked at me, and then through me. I don’t know if he even understood that I had just been talking to him.

  And then the ground turned liquid beneath him, like quicksand, and he began to sink. He offered no protest, gave no struggle to free himself. He just sank!

  “Get him!” Picard shouted, and Data started forward, but I waved him off. It was too late; what was the point anyway?

  The Orion let out one final moan, but it wasn’t one of pain; it was relief. He then disappeared beneath the surface without so much as a ripple. I knelt down and touched the place where the Orion had just been, but the ground had firmed up again.

  “Madness,” I whispered. “Madness.”

  “Q . . . we have to leave this place,” Picard said urgently.

  “And go where? You said it yourself, Picard. We’ve hit bottom. There’s nowhere else to go.”

  “We still have a mission. We still have to—”

  “Father!”

  My son had spotted something. I looked where he was pointing, and I almost choked.

  It was the Lady Q, looking as forlorn as the others. Her hair, long and stringy, covering her nakedness. And her eyes . . .

  . . . they had crystallized. She was blind.

  “Look away,” I whispered to q, but he didn’t. Instead he stared, transfixed.

  “Is that her?” Picard spoke barely above a hush. I nodded, unable to find words. “My god,” said Picard.

  I turned and glared at him. “Your god? Your god. Don’t talk to me about your god, Picard, because if He should happen to show his face, we’re going to have words.”

  “Mother . . . ?” q called to her. There was no response. “Mother . . . ?” he said again.

  Nothing.

  “Stay here,” I cautioned him, and this time he obeyed. It wasn’t that difficult for him to obey, really. I knew that he was terrified by the sight of her. I couldn’t blame him. So was I.

  Slowly I approached her. I walked carefully, stepping over the bodies of some of the moaning creatures that might once have been considered sentient beings. In the distance, I saw a light begin to shine, but I couldn’t make out exactly what it was.

  I knelt down next to her. “Q?” I said.

  To my surprise—indeed, to my uplifting hope—there was the faintest hint of a smile.

  I spoke her name again, and this time she said ever so faintly, “I knew you’d come. I knew, sooner or later I’d hear your voice. Tell me I’m not dreaming.”

  “You’re not dreaming. It’s me.”

  “No, it can’t be true,” she said. “We’re dead. All of us. You’re not here. You can’t be here.”

  “I am.” I made a move to take her hands in mine but she remained out of reach.

  I moved closer, and closer still, and still she seemed just as far as she had before. I felt as if I were caught in Zeno’s paradox, halving the distance between us constantly and still never arriving at my destination.

  “I am dead. We’re all dead,” she continued. “It’s over. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.” And she closed her blind eyes and whispered, “There’s just no point.”

  “Come back to me,” I said. “Come back to us. Our son is here . . . I found him. I’ve been searching for him, just as I’ve been searching for you. This isn’t what you think it is. It’s a challenge of wills, ours pitted against whatever sadistic creature has put it all together. But you can overcome it. You have more will than . . .”

  The Lady Q pitched forward, sprawling onto the ground . . . and the ground began to dissolve under her, just as it had with the Orion.

  I could hear the shriek from q behind me, but it was drowned out by my own cry as I leaped forward, trying to cover the distance between us with one desperate lunge. But it was no use. I hit the ground just short of the edge of the liquefied dirt. I stretched my arm out and shouted, “Here! Reach toward my voice! I’m here! I’m right here! I’m right here!”

  She said the worst thing she could possibly say . . . which was nothing, and she continued to sink, faster and faster into the ground. Her legs disappeared beneath the surface. She was making no effort at all.

  “Don’t you do it!” I howled at her. �
�Don’t you give up on me! On us! I don’t care what you’re feeling down here, you can overcome it! You can still beat it! I can help you beat it!”

  She then spoke, “Nothing . . . I have nothing to live for . . . nothing—”

  “That’s not true! I love you!” My voice was cracking. I could hear the sobs of my son, begging me to do something. I inched forward on my belly, stretching as far as I could, trying to get to her. I had to get a grip on her, to pull her out. And I said three words that were anathema: “Picard, help me!”

  But Picard was already in motion, as was Data. They looked hideously far away, though, as far away as I must have been. I pushed my body further forward, so that the entire upper portion was suspended over the grave. I was dangerously overbalanced; if I did manage to snag her, I wouldn’t be able to pull her back. I didn’t care, though. I was desperate.

  I shouted, “Q! I love you! I do! Come back to me! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave us! Don’t! Don’t!”

  The back of her head had already sunk out of sight. Only her face was visible, her face and the hair which framed it. She stared at nothing, and then let out that terrible, rattling moan . . .

  . . . and she was gone.

  The ground closed up around her and hardened. I had lost her.

  A shriek of . . .

  A shriek of pain such as I had never voiced rose from my throat, and then I started to claw like a madman at the dirt. Picard and Data were next to me, and q was there as well, and we all ripped away at the soil. We dug for the longest time, until our fingers were caked with filth, our faces, every visible inch of skin was encrusted with grime. But we found nothing. The ground had swallowed her up without a trace. . . .

  “Q,” Picard said in a subdued voice.

  “Not now, Picard! I—”

  “Q,” and he put a hand on my arm and said firmly, “look around.”