by Greg Cox
“Complain, complain. Is that all you can do, Jean-Luc?” Q said. “I knew I should have brought along Data instead. At least he can listen to more than one sound at once and still comprehend what he’s hearing.” He sounded sorely illused. “Very well, I suppose I have to do everything around here.”
All at once, the overpowering rustle of impassioned discussion surrounding him receded further into the background, to the extent that he could now isolate the distinctive voices of both 0 and the younger Q. The two counterfeit Coulalakritous became visible as well, acquiring a silvery metallic glow that set them apart from the other sentient gases swirling through the vast gaseous community. Shapeless and inhuman, they reminded Picard of globules of liquid mercury. He assumed that the silver tinting was for his benefit alone; presumably both the Coulalakritous and the trespassing immortals were unaware of the change. The argent glow had to be out of phase, too, lest he and the older Q’s presence be exposed. To Picard’s slight annoyance, he observed that his obnoxious traveling companion had not bothered to make himself visible as well. It’s just like Q, he fumed, to put others at a disadvantage, especially me.
“Happy now?” the indistinguishable Q asked. He might have been anywhere around Picard. “Do try to concentrate, Jean-Luc. I don’t want to have to relive this a third time just for your sake.”
Conveniently, the silver puffs of vapor were not far away, although Picard found it hard to estimate precise distances within such an atypical environment. They were certainly within listening range. He felt slightly uncomfortable eavesdropping this way, even on a Q, but he had to concede that it was preferable to having to deal with 0 and the other Q directly. Every Starfleet captain knew a little espionage was necessary now and then.
“Is this all they do?” 0 inquired out loud. His cloud, Picard noted, was larger than the younger Q’s, and streaked with dark metallic shadings that were almost black in places. “Why, they’re nothing but talk! Rancid and rubbish, all of them.” He clearly did not approve.
“Well, they’re said to have traveled extensively throughout the galaxy,” his companion offered. At the moment, the youthful Q resembled a glistening dust devil, whirling madly with speed and energy to burn. “And they never forget anything, or so I’m told.”
“Tell me about it,” the older Q said dryly, possibly recalling the Calamarain’s undying vendetta against him.
“Can they travel faster than a ray of sunlight?” 0 asked, and Picard could readily imagine the calculating expression on the old rogue’s face. If 0 still had a humanoid face, that is.
“Why, sure! How else would they get around?” Q said cheerily, then remembered 0’s inability to travel at warp speed except through the Continuum. “Er, nothing personal, I mean. I forgot about your…well, there’s more to godhood than zipping from here to there in a hurry.” The spinning cloud turned pink with embarrassment at his faux pas. “Why rush when you have all of eternity, right?”
This really was a long time ago, Picard realized. It was hard to imagine the Q of the twenty-fourth century being embarrassed by anything, let alone a tactless remark. More’s the pity, he thought.
“Calm down, friend. No offense taken,” 0 insisted. “This old wanderer’s well aware of his present limitations. It’s hardly your fault, Q.” An edge of bitterness colored his words and Picard recalled the crippled leg 0 possessed in his human guise. “Blame instead those meddling miscreants who banished me here in the first place. Contemptible curs!”
“But I thought you came here of your own choosing,” the Q-cloud said, taken aback by the sudden malevolence in 0’s tone, the spin of its miniature eddies slowing anxiously.
“So I did!” 0 asserted, regaining his usual robust air. “Who says otherwise?”
“But, I mean, you…” Q stammered. Picard had to admit to himself that he found this Q’s discomfort rather satisfying; it was good to see Q off balance for once, even if Picard had been forced to travel countless centuries in the past to witness the occasion.
“Yesterday’s news,” 0 insisted. “Moldy memories better off forgotten.” The silver mist that was 0 cruised along the perimeter of the plasma cloud. Picard found he could follow him by focusing his attention in that direction. “Let’s get on with the business of testing this talkative tempest. Here’s an idea: Suppose we try to herd this cloud in one direction or another. Put some wind in our sails, so to speak.”
“Er, what exactly would that prove?” Q asked.
“Why, nothing less than whether the Coulalakritous are capable—and worthy—of controlling their own destiny. If the likes of you and I have the power to change their course at will, then plainly they’re not as highly evolved as they should be.” He emitted the tachyon equivalent of a low chuckle. “And, as an added bonus, I acquire my own personal porters. What do you say, Q? Do you think we can do it?”
Mon Dieu, Picard thought, shocked by the cold-blooded ruthlessness of 0’s suggestion. He’s thinking of enslaving the Coulalakritous, to harness them as a means of faster-than-light transportation for himself! It was a blatant violation of the Prime Directive, not to mention basic morality. The voices around him belonged to a sentient people, not beasts of burden. Did the young Q comprehend the full horror of what his companion was advocating? Picard wondered. Was this the telltale moment that would lift the scales from his (metaphorical) eyes?
Apparently not. “I don’t know,” young Q said. “I’ve never really considered the matter before.”
“Of course not,” 0 said readily. “Why should you, a healthy young Q like yourself?” The silver mist, with its darker undertones, oozed sinuously around the glowing pocket of gas that now embodied the young Q. “For us that have a wee bit of trouble getting around, though, this notion merits a closer look. After all, much as I enjoy your company, you don’t want to have to chauffeur me around the cosmos indefinitely, do you?”
“That’s what I promised the Continuum,” Q said, sounding as if the full implications of that commitment were just now sinking in.
“So you did,” 0 assented, “and for sure you meant it at the time.” The volume of the dark silver gas began to increase dramatically, spreading out in all directions around the outer surface of the entire cloud. “Still, it can’t hurt to explore other options now. You wanted to test another species, right? Trust me, this is as good a way as any.”
“Wait. What are you doing?” The Q-mist started to churn anxiously within the confines of the elder entity’s substance but found itself hemmed in, unable to move. “Stop it!”
“Just blasting two planets with one asteroid, that’s all,” 0 stated as his dark silver stain permeated the nebulous borders of the Coulalakritous, enclosing the cloud within his own gaseous grip. “Nothing to be alarmed about, at least not for you and me. The cloud, on the other hand…well, they might have cause for concern.”
This is monstrous, Picard thought, sickened by 0’s shameless attempt to place an entire community of intelligent beings under his control. If he understood the situation correctly, 0 meant to turn the Coulalakritous into the interstellar equivalent of galley slaves, yoked into transporting 0 throughout the galaxy at warp speed. He had to remind himself that, whatever happened next, everything he was witnessing now had already taken place from the perspective of his own era, was incredibly ancient history in fact, predating the very birth of humanity, none of which made it any easier to watch. “Why didn’t you do something?” he challenged the older Q, wherever he was.
“It was too new,” Q apologized from somewhere behind Picard. “I was too new. 0 sounded like he knew what he was doing. How was I supposed to know whether it was a reasonable experiment or not?”
“How could you not have?” Picard answered angrily. Humanity had already learned that such exploitation of another intelligent species was unconscionable, and human history was only a nanosecond in the lifetime of Q if his most grandiose claims were to be believed. “What’s so hard to understand about slavery?”
“Ever ridden a horse, Picard?” Q retorted. “Ever bred bees for honey? Believe me, you’re a lot closer to a horse or a bug than I was to the Coulalakritous, even back then. Don’t be so quick to judge me.”
“These are not horses!” the captain said. Indignation deepened his voice. “And they are most certainly not insects. I’ve heard them, felt them, experienced at least a fragment of their existence—and so have you.”
“I’ve listened to you, too, Picard,” Q said, materializing before Picard in his usual guise. He pinched the fabric of his uniform. “Contrary to my appearance, that doesn’t make me human, or even a humanitarian.”
Picard would have shaken his head in disgust had he still possessed humanoid form. I don’t know why I should be so surprised, he thought. Q has never shown any consideration for “lesser” species before, and it seems he was always that way.
By now the taint of 0 had spread all over the exterior of the cloud community. It thickened and solidified, enclosing the Coulalakritous within a thin, silvery membrane that began to squeeze inward, forcing the assembled gases (including Picard) to flow only in the direction 0 had chosen. But his efforts to take the reins of the cloud did not go unnoticed.
The perpetual buzz of a million voices fell silent for an instant, thousands upon thousands of discussions interrupted simultaneously, before the dialogue started up again with a new and more urgent tone: what is This?…What Now transpires?…Make It cease!…Fearful am I…I cannot touch the Outside!…Nor I…Nor I…hurts Myself…crushing…so Cold…losing Vitality…cannot move…cease…cease NOW!…
It was hideous. Within seconds, 0 had reduced an ageless, living symposium to panic. Picard heard the shock and dismay in the cries of the entire assemblage. He longed for the Enterprise, whose powerful phasers might be able to surgically peel 0 away from the Coulalakritous, but his ship was many millennia away. If only I could do something to help these people!
0 laughed boisterously, drowning out Picard’s frustrated craving to stop him. The membrane squeezed harder and Picard felt the compressed gases press in on him from all sides but one, propelling him forward against his will. “Wait,” he protested, not understanding why he should be feeling any pressure at all. “I thought we were out of phase with this moment in time.”
“Poetic license,” Q explained, his humanoid shape unaffected by the pressure. “I want you to get the full experience.”
In other words, Picard realized, Q was generating the sensation himself, to simulate conditions within the besieged cloud of plasma. Picard was less than grateful. I could have easily done without this much verisimilitude.
The Coulalakritous fought back. Overcoming their initial consternation, the voices began to come together with a single purpose:
…cease…halt the Adversary…Our Volition is Our Own…Our Will is United…cease crushing Us…hurts…disregard the Torment…shall not yield…persevere, do not cease stirring, All of We…Halt the Cold…do not be Fearful…Ours is the Heat of Many is…must be Free…persevere…Together We can break free…Together We…together… Flashes of lightning sparked along the inner skin of the membrane 0 had become. …Together…Together…Together…
“Are you indeed?” 0 mocked them, his voice emerging from the membrane so that he seemed to be speaking from all directions at once. “All unanimity aside, I believe I have the upper hand at the moment,” he said, demonstrating his point by constricting the enclosed gases further. Picard lost sight of the Q-mist as, poetic license or not, he felt his substance stretched and prodded by the pressure being exerted on the cloud community. Because his senses were distorted by his unlikely new form, it felt like a scream and sounded like heavy gravity. Claustrophobia gripped him now that he could no longer flow freely through the great cloud, and he marveled at how quickly he had grown accustomed to his gaseous state. At least he was used to being contained within a skin of flesh; he could only imagine how unbearable this captivity must be to the Coulalakritous. If only I could do something, he thought, but I’m not even really here…I think.
The cloud-beings did not submit readily to 0’s will. The atmosphere surrounding Picard warmed dramatically, transforming into a cauldron of superheated gases, as they expanded outward against the pressure of the membrane. The swirling maelstrom of sentient vapors increased in fury, gaining strength and intensity by the moment. Picard had a sudden mental image of being in the middle of—no, being part of—an old-fashioned steam engine of colossal proportions. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, 0 has underestimated the Coulalakritous. After all, they surely hadn’t endured into the twenty-fourth century, eventually evolving into the Calamarain, by being defenseless. He cheered on their efforts, wishing he could add his own determination, out of phase as he was, to the struggle.
…Together…break free…Together…break free…Together…break free…Together…break free…Together…
Slowly, the tide appeared to turn. The cloud swelled against the membrane, spreading it ever thinner around an expanding volume of ionized and agitated gas. “Beasts! Brutes! Upstarts!” 0 cursed them, but his voice faded in volume as his width approached infinitesimal. Within the cloud, fierce currents tossed Picard around like a cork upon the waves. “Blast you,” 0 raged, barely audible now. “Give up, why don’t you? Surrender!”
Then, like an overinflated balloon, the membrane that was 0 came apart and the victorious Coulalakritous rushed through the gap to freedom. “Time to switch seats for a better view,” the older Q commented, and Picard abruptly found himself outside the cloud, looking on from a distance. The gigantic fog, even larger and more diffuse than before, loomed ahead of him, so attenuated that Picard could glimpse stars and nebulae through it. The Coulalakritous wasted no time contracting back to their original proportions, growing opaque once more. A second later, a stream of silver mist was forcibly ejected from the vaporous community. “Not my most dignified exit,” Q commented, watching his younger self spew forth from the interior of the Coulalakritous, “but I like to think I’ve improved since. You must concede that I’ve always managed to depart the Enterprise with more than a modicum of style.”
“I have always savored your exits,” Picard couldn’t resist replying, “more than any other aspect of your visits.” Now that they had left the plasma cloud behind, they had both resumed human form. Picard was relieved to look down and see his body once more. Given a choice, he discovered he preferred floating adrift in space to squeezing in among the Coulalakritous.
“Ho, ho, Jean-Luc,” Q said darkly, hanging upside down in relation to Picard. “Very droll. It would be too much to expect, I suppose, any sign of gratitude for showing you glimpses of a higher reality.”
“Not when your motive has always seemed to be more about your own self-aggrandizement than my enlightenment,” Picard answered.
“My self can’t possibly be more aggrandized,” Q stated, “as I thought you would have understood by now.” He looked away from Picard at what remained of 0, hovering about a dozen meters away. “Watch closely, mon capitaine. Here’s where things get really interesting.”
Reduced to a severed string of silver-black film, 0 rapidly reconstituted himself, assuming the same human form he had affected before. His craggy face was flushed with anger and his once-fine clothes were charred and seared around their edges. Smoke rose symbolically from the anomalous male figure suspended in the vacuum of space; Picard could not tell whether the fumes emanated from 0’s garments or his person. Beyond a doubt, 0 looked irritated enough to spontaneously combust at any moment.
His companion and guardian, the young Q, metamorphosized from mist to humanoid appearance, then strolled across the void toward 0. His attire was less battle-scarred than the other’s, Picard noted, perhaps because Q had not attempted to subdue the Coulalakritous. Nervously eyeing his cohort’s affronted demeanor, he seemed inclined to laugh the whole business off as an inconsequential lark. “Well, it appears we’ve worn out our welcome, and then some,” he remarked flippantly. “Th
eir loss, then. It’s hardly the first time a lesser species has failed to appreciate a superior life-form.”
“Nor would it be the last,” his older self added, with a pointed look at Picard.
“On that you and I can agree,” Picard shot back, feeling singularly unappreciative at the moment.
The young Q’s attempt at levity failed to assuage 0’s ire. “They can’t do this!” he snarled, his previously jovial mask slipping away to expose a visage of unmistakable indignation. “I won’t be banished again, not by their sort.” His pale blue eyes glittered like icy gems, reflecting the luminous shimmer of the Coulalakritous. “Never again,” he swore. “Never, I say!”
Taken aback by 0’s pique, young Q squirmed uncomfortably, uncertain how to deal with his friend’s temper. “But didn’t they pass your test?” he asked. “You tried to harness them. They wouldn’t let you. I thought that was the whole point of the endeavor.”
“They cheated!” 0 barked. “Just like the others. And if there’s one thing that I never abide, it’s a cheater. Remember that, Q, if you remember nothing else. Never allow cheaters to make a travesty of your tests.”
“Cheated how?” Q asked, looking genuinely puzzled. “Did I miss something? As I much as I loathe admitting my ignorance, I am rather new at this, so I suppose it’s possible I missed a subtlety or two. Perhaps you can explain what precisely they did wrong?”
If 0 was listening at all to Q’s prattle, he gave no sign of it. He glared at the incandescent majesty of the Coulalakritous with undisguised hostility. He took a deep breath, inhaling some manner of sustenance from the ether, and appeared to be drawing on a hidden reserve of strength. The smoky gray fumes rising from his scorched garments entwined about each other and, from Picard’s vantage point nearby, 0’s human facade appeared to flicker slightly, giving Picard brief, almost subliminal glimpses of another, more inhuman form. He received an impression of something dark and coiled, surrounded by a blurry aura of excess limbs or tendrils. Or was that only an illusion created by the twisting spirals of smoke? The more he watched, the more Picard became convinced that what he saw was no mere trick of smoke and starlight, but a genuine glimpse of another aspect of the enigmatic stranger. Picard’s Starfleet training, along with years of experience in dealing with diverse life-forms, had taught him not to judge other beings by their appearance; nonetheless, he could not repress a shudder at this transitory look behind 0’s customary persona. Indeed, he reflected, it was the very indistinctness of the images he perceived that made them far more eerie and unsettling than a clear and distinct depiction of the alien would have been. Picard found his imagination all too eager to fill in the blanks in this fractional, impressionistic portrait of 0’s true nature. I knew there was more to him than met the eye, he thought. Why couldn’t Q see that?