Claws 24

Ronnie

Q. Starfleet's self-appointed omnipotent gadfly. Well, this is just what I needed. This Q appears as a human female, short, with fluffy blonde hair and a wide smile. I'm not fooled. Whatever this being is, she makes a Fek'lhri horde look cuddly by comparison. As seems to be usual for the Q, she's wearing a Starfleet admiral's uniform - because the Q Continuum does so like taking the mickey.
  
"So all this is your fault, then," I say.

"Oh, Veronika." Q pouts. "What a dreadful thing to say."

"Yeah, well. Dreadful things. I say 'em, you do 'em. Mind telling me what this is about, at least? I suppose putting us back in orbit is out of the question."

Q steps forward, putting her hands on the desktop and leaning across it. "It's all about you, Veronika."

"Oh, great. And knock off the 'Veronika', will you? Call me Ronnie, everyone does."

"But it's so rough and un-feminine, Veronika." Q smiles and half-closes her eyes. "You should let yourself be feminine, you know, once in a while. In fact," she adds in husky, breathy tones, "you and I could explore femininity... together...."

There is another brilliant flash, and instead of a uniform, Q is wearing a filmy baby-doll negligee, and - I'm relieved to note - a thong. She pouts and wiggles.

"You can knock that off, too. I'm too old and too Borg-ified, and anyway, I'm not interested. Now maybe if you were the original Q, the one Picard met -"

"Could be arranged." Another brilliant flash. Q has changed appearance, to the dark-haired, middle-aged, exopthalmic male form Starfleet first encountered. The outfit, however, has remained the same. I shut my one eye tight.

"Jesus wept!"

"Sorry," says Q, with a complete lack of sincerity.

"I may never be able to unsee that."

Another flash, visible even through my closed eyelid. "I said I was sorry." The female voice again; I risk opening my eye. Q is back to being female, in an admiral's uniform - actually, looking at the collar tabs, I put her three or four grades above Admiral of the Fleet. Never mind. It's an improvement.

"So what's it all about, anyway?" I ask irritably.

"I already told you, Veronika. It's all about you."

"No, it isn't," I snap. "I might have been any one of a thousand Starfleet officers -"

"Who are mentioned in the Tiazans' book of prophecy? Do please try to think, Veronika. I know you mortals find that difficult, but do make the effort."

"So how'd I get into any prophecy, then?"

"Not just any prophecy." Q's eyes narrow at me.

"All right, one you thought up for them -"

"No. I promise you, this is not my work, or the work of anyone in the Q Continuum."

I don't know whether to believe that or not. "OK, so it's someone else's big idea. So spoil it for them. That's what you're good at, right? Messing things up? Mess up this prophecy rubbish, send us back to reality."

"Oh, Veronika, Veronika." Q shakes her head in mock sorrow. "I am doing everything in my power - which, I might note, is quite beyond your limited comprehension. And the best thing I can do is provide you with that key insight, which is that it's -"

"- all about me. Right. Got it. How is it -?"

"Whoops, is that the time? Must dash. You know how it is when you're an omnipotent superbeing - places to go, people to be -" Q stands up straight. "Take care of yourself, Veronika, and please remember what I've told you." And she blows me a kiss.

Then she is gone, in a flash and a hiss.

I sit at the desk for a moment or two, trying to make sense of this. Trying, and failing. The Q Continuum never seems to give you information you can use straight away... if you're lucky, and still alive, their actions make sense in hindsight, and that's the best you can hope for.

At least the sight of Q seems to have scared Two of Twelve into silence. I stand up, and march back onto the bridge. "Set me up a channel to the other ships," I tell Leo. "Any news?" I ask Tallasa.

"No developments, sir."

"Oh, you are so wrong there." Faces are appearing on the main viewer; R'j, Vihl, Oschmann. I take a deep breath. "Just had a visit from Q."

"S-s-s-s-s," says R'j - which, come to think of it, sums up my feelings quite neatly.

"Apparently," I carry on, "this is not some prank of the Q Continuum, and it is all about me. Q was surprisingly emphatic about that. What it means - well, your guess is as good as mine."

"If we have not been brought here by the Continuum," says R'j, "then it must be the work of some comparable power. Have you offended any such beings, lately?"

"Not that I know of," I mutter, irritably. Why do people keep blaming me for things? I didn't write that damn book of prophecy. "Anyway. Anything turned up from the stellar cartography databases?"

"Very little, sir." Anthi Vihl sounds sullen. "Going by radiation emissions from extra-galactic black holes, we may have a positional match somewhere in the Pinwheel Galaxy - about six million parsecs from home. Commander Oschmann claims to have a match on local bright stars which would put us somewhere in the Greater Magellanic Cloud, but I consider her spectrographic data to be suspect."

"The Anar's science libraries are precise and detailed," Oschmann snaps.

"It's a warship, not a science vessel," Vihl retorts.

"Let's not fight," I say. "We've got enough troubles already. I take it, from either position, we're not going to be home for supper any time soon?"

"Not unless your ship is capable of quite unprecedented turns of speed," says R'j. "You are correct, though, we should not quarrel amongst ourselves." Oschmann and Vihl both look sullen now. Oh, God, I don't need this.

"Sir." Saval's voice. I suspect something else I don't need is coming my way. "I have a possible sensor contact at extreme range."

"How extreme?"

"At the limits of scanning range. Bearing one seven three mark six two."

"Come about." Whatever it is, I don't want it sneaking up behind me. "You guys coming with me to take a look?" I say to the faces on the viewer.

"We should stay together," says R'j.

"All righty, then. Ahead one half impulse."

"Anar will take point," says Oschmann. "We have superior speed and sensor capability."

"Fair enough," I say, loudly, before Vihl can argue. There is clearly no love lost between those two.

The Anar slides out in front of us, weapons spines bristling forwards. I repress a shiver. We are four state-of-the-art warships, thousands of highly skilled, highly trained, highly motivated crew aboard them.... In this alien sky, we are very small and very alone.

Images form on the console screens as the Anar relays data back to us. There is something out there. And, for a few precious seconds, it's not clear what.

"Tt't'tt'-ll'kkkyhhhi-krrr'rr!" says R'j, as the images come into focus.

"Scanning." Oschmann's voice is dead calm. "Fek'lhri battle force. Confirm sixteen Drek'hi dreadnoughts, each with three Kar'fi carriers and six K'Norr escorts in attendance... multiple smaller units, I don't have a count on those, but I suspect it doesn't matter."

"Too right," I say. "Hard about, maximum warp, in the general direction of away."

"I concur," says R'j. Her silver eyes are wide.

Our four ships turn, quickly, away from the approaching wall of demon battleships. "Maintain sensor locks on all consorts," I order. "We've got to run, but we don't want to lose each other while we do it. Right?"

"Confirmed," says R'j. Vihl and Oschmann both nod assent.

"OK, let's make like a tree and leave. Warp speed." Jhemyl hits the helm controls, and -

Nothing happens. "Guys," I say, "I really think we've worn out our welcome in these parts. Warp speed."

"Trying it, sir," says Jhemyl. "Warp drive is not responding."

"I think we're all getting the same, sir," says Vihl. R'j says something else unpronounceable. I know how she feels.

"Fek'lhri battle force is in pursuit, sir," says Saval. "Closing at high impulse speed. I estimate ten minutes to weapons range."

"Anyone got any idea what's up with the warp drive?" I ask.

"Unknown, sir," says Ahepkur. "The warp field simply will not initiate. Diagnostics show no mechanical failures, but -" She shrugs, helplessly.

Warp drive out, and a massive Fek fleet closing in. If this is all about me, I think my concluding chapter is about to get written, because I really do not see any way out of this. This one, I'm afraid, is your classic no-win scenario -

Wait.

That phrase is enough to set a few neurons misfiring in my brain. "Got an idea," I say. Three faces regard me from the viewer with rather less hope than sheer disbelief. "You're not going to like it," I add.

R'j finds her voice. "In this situation," she rasps, "I will take any alternatives I can get."

"OK, but you're really not going to like it." I take a very deep breath. "I'm chancing everything on what Q said, about this being all about me. Leo. Transmit the following on subspace channel delta two one: Backdoor niner two seven, authorization Juliet Tango Kilo." Everyone looks mystified. Then they just look stunned, as I add, "And all ships. Power down all weapons, and lower shields."