Star Trek: The Q Continuum by Greg Cox Read Free Book Online Page B

once. It was very possible that Q had forbidden the Enterprise to breach the barrier for the express reason of tricking them into doing so; such reverse psychology was certainly consistent with Q’s convoluted ways. Nor could Picard overlook Q’s blatant disregard for the immeasurable value of each human life. Part of me will never forgive him for that first meeting with the Borg.
    On the other hand, Picard conceded a shade reluctantly, Q’s motives were not always malign. When he had briefly lost his powers several years ago, Q had surprised Picard by proving himself capable of both gratitude and self-sacrifice. And every so often Q hinted that he had Picard’s best interests at heart. But, he thought, with a friend like Q who needs enemies? Picard still didn’t entirely know what to make of their last encounter; what had truly been the point of that fragmented and disorienting excursion through time? As was too often the case with Q, he had seemed to be both thwarting and assisting Picard simultaneously. The incident frustrated the captain to this day; the more he turned that journey over in his head, the less sense it seemed to make. It’s possible, I suppose, that Q meant well that time around.
    Even Q’s most deadly prank, exposing them to the Borg for the first time, had carried a bitter lesson for the future; if not for Q, the Collective might have caught the Federation totally unawares. But who knew what Q’s true purpose had been? He could have as easily done so in a fit of pique. Or on a whim.
    Whatever his personal feelings toward Q might be, Picard knew he could not dismiss his advice out of hand. He could not deny, as much as he would like to, that Q was a highly advanced being in many respects, privy to scientific knowledge far beyond the Federation’s. There might well be some merit to his warning regarding the barrier.
    But was Starfleet willing to let the future of humanoid exploration be dictated by a being like Q? That, it seemed to him, was the real crux of the matter. Had not Q himself once declared that the wonders of the universe were not for the timid?
    “So I did,” Q confirmed, appearing without warning atop the surface of Picard’s desk. “How stunningly astute of you to remember, although, typically, you’ve chosen the worst possible occasion to do so.” He shook his head sadly. “Wouldn’t you know it? The one time you choose to recall my words of wisdom, it’s to justify ignoring my most recent advice.”
    “I thought such paradoxes were your stock-in-trade?” Picard said, unable to resist such an obvious riposte.
    “Touché,” Q responded, “or rather I should say, Olé!” In fact, he had traded in his guardsman’s uniform for the more flamboyant costume of a traditional Spanish matador. A black felt montera rested upon his scalp, above his glittering “coat of lights.” Golden rhinestones sparkled upon his collar, lapels, and trousers. A thin green tie was knotted at his throat, the chartreuse fabric matching the cummer-bund around his waist. A scarlet cape was draped over one arm, although Picard was relieved to see that this would-be bullfighter had left his saber at home.
    A strangely appropriate guise for Q, Picard observed, doubtless inspired by my choice of music. When he thought about it, Q had much in common with an old-fashioned toreador. Both delighted in teasing and provoking a so-called lesser species for their own sadistic self-glorification. Bullfighting had been banned on Earth since the latter part of the twenty-first century, but Picard doubted that Q cared. “What now?” he demanded. “Why are you here?”
    “Votre toast je peux vous le rendre,” Q sang in a surprisingly strong baritone, “and one of these days you might seriously think of offering me a drink, but, anyway, it occurred to me that you might be more likely to see reason in private, when you don’t have to strut and preen before your subordinates. Fine, I appreciate your primitive