"Women," he growled. Then he tapped his communicator. "Worf to Captain Picard.
There is no disturbance in the quarters of Mrs.
Troi. And if there was, she is not telling us about it." "Thank you, Mr. Worf," came the captain's reply.
Worf grunted, then tilted his head slightly. "Let's go," he said sourly.
"Worf reports all is well," said Picard rather unnecessarily, since Deanna had heard Worf perfectly. She was seated opposite the captain, her hands still moving in uncomfortable fidgets.
"Yes, I know." "You disagree with that assessment?" Deanna paused, uncertain of what to say.
She looked terribly vulnerable, as if the slightest harsh word would cause her to crack and shatter. Finally, all in a rush she said, "Captain, I am truly, truly frightened for my mother. I'm afraid that she has let herself in for more than she can handle." "Counselor," said Picard slowly, "you, of course, know your mother far better than I. But I must say that in the time that I have known her, I consider Lwaxana Troi a woman who is perfectly capable of handling anything." "With all due respect, Captain, the last time you talked of people being capable of handling anything, you were speaking of this crew as a whole. That was right before we were tossed light-years from home and the Borg almost killed us. And you will recall that Q was involved in that instance too." She sounded surprisingly brittle. It was an indication to Picard of just how much her concern was weighing on her. "Deanna--" he began.
"All she has to do is say the wrong thing!" said Deanna. "One wrong word, and Q could wipe her out of existence." "He won't do that." "How do we know that?" she demanded. "Q does as he pleases, whenever he pleases. He's like an... an anti-Prime Directive. My mother is a very forceful and demanding personality, and who knows what she might do to set Q off. And I can't persuade her to use caution! I can't convince her that it's madness." She looked up from her wringing hands. "Perhaps you could." "Me?" "Yes. She looks up to you. She respects you." "She wants me," Picard said testily.
"Not that I've ever encouraged her, as you well know." "I'm aware of that, Captain." He pulled slightly on his uniform top.
"She was absolutely fixated on me when she was last here. Made me so uncomfortable I had to retreat to the holodeck." His eyes narrowed as he pinned Deanna with a look. "I do not retreat lightly. I've faced down angry Candellian pirates and berserk Ferengi, and have not retreated. But your mother drove me into hiding. That was not a course I undertook lightly. And that is the sort of personality that is going up against Q. I'd say that Q has his work cut out for him. Now, I've told Q that I am not pleased with the current state of affairs, but to be blunt, if your mother is welcoming him with open arms, it puts me on somewhat shaky ground.
She is a guest and--God help us all--so is Q. Her wishes have to be considered." "What about my wishes, Captain?" she said.
"What about my concerns? Captain--you would help me if I gave such strong advice on any crew member here. Certainly my mother deserves at least that much consideration. I understand if she intimidates you--" "Intimidates!" said Picard sharply.
"Well, perhaps "intimidates" is not the right word--" "I should say not!" Picard told her. "And I'll have you know that..." He was stabbing an index finger at her, and then his voice trailed off. He began to smile, and shook his head. "Reverse psychology, Counselor?" She shrugged. "Whatever works, Captain." He sighed. "All right, Counselor, if it means that much to you that you're resorting to obvious psychological ploys, would you ask your mother if she would do me the honor of dinner this evening? I will... discuss matters with her." Deanna let out a breath of relief.
"Thank you, Captain." "Don't thank me yet," Picard cautioned her. "Your mother can be a very determined woman.
Even single-minded, sometimes." "Single-minded women!" Deanna suddenly remembered. "There is another topic I must discuss with you. It involves our Mr. Crusher." "Teenagers," said Picard ruefully. "So tell me, what has he gotten himself into?" "Odd that you should put it that way..."
Picard pulled uncomfortably at the collar of his dress uniform and wondered for perhaps the hundredth time in his career exactly who the sadist was that had designed it. He stood in front of Lwaxana's quarters and nodded formally at crewmen who happened to wander by.
Picard spotted a few raised eyebrows at the sight of the captain lurking outside the quarters of Mrs. Troi. Her pursuit of him when she was last aboard was something of an open secret. So seeing the captain now, apparently the lamb being led willingly to the slaughter--well, it was certainly something to be questioned. Nevertheless, it wound up adding to his discomfort.
"Come in," came the voice of Lwaxana Troi.
He sighed deeply. "Into the jaws of death rode the three hundred..." he murmured, pasted a smile on his face, and entered.
As before, the first thing that assaulted him was the heavy scent of perfume that hung in the air. It was so powerful that it was practically a physical thing.
Standing across the room, Lwaxana Troi was decked out in a long, flowing yellow-and-green gown.
"No black?" asked Picard.
"I still mourn for my daughter," said Lwaxana sadly, and then her face brightened. "But for a reunion of such old and dear friends.
Jean-Luc, I had to dress properly." She extended a hand and Picard suavely kissed her knuckles. "Imagine my surprise when Deanna said you wanted to dine with me." "Imagine mine as well," replied Picard.
She frowned slightly, not understanding, and Picard said quickly, "I'm pleased that you were able to make time for me." "Always time for you, Jean-Luc." She gestured towards a table that was already laid out with Betazoid delicacies. Mr. Homn stood by, gong at the ready.
Picard and Lwaxana sat down opposite each other, Picard trying desperately to feel comfortable in a situation that definitely had him ill at ease. Mrs. Troi watched him with that aggravating look that made it seem as if she were peering straight into the back of his head. Which, for all he knew, she might very well be doing.
"So," said Picard briskly.
"So," said Lwaxana in return. She cupped her hands and rested her chin in them, looking remarkably girlish and even--heaven help him-- attractive. Picard cleared his throat as Mrs. Troi said, "Jean-Luc..." "Yes, Lwaxana?" he said gamely, preparing for an evening of romantic overtures on the part of his counselor's mother.
"I believe that I've found... the one for me." "Lwaxana," began Picard, "that's very flatter--" But he wasn't able to get the rest of the sentence out, because she wasn't paying attention. Instead she continued as if he had not spoken, "Tell me everything... and I mean everything... that you know about... Q."
Wesley stood in the doorway of the quarters that had been assigned to his "gift." At his insistence, she was wearing the robes that she had come with. He reminded himself to personally "thank" Chief O'Brien for going along with the transporting of the girl over to the Enterprise and for her subsequent entry into his quarters.
Undoubtedly it was O'Brien's whimsical idea of a joke. Ha Ha.
"Are you sure you don't want me in your quarters, Wesley?" she sighed.
"Yes, I'm sure," Wesley told her.
"Just stay here until I can get this all sorted out, okay?" She cocked her head and regarded him curiously. "Sehra's other serving girls were so envious of me when Sehra decided to make a gift of me to you. You clearly impressed her in quite a short time." "It's a knack," said Wesley quickly. He glanced down the corridor and spotted Walt Charles, a tall and handsome young ensign, heading his way. Charles slowed and raised an eyebrow and inwardly Wes moaned. "Look, go on in, okay?" "Whatever you say, Wesley," she said, and suddenly she threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely. He was caught completely off guard, and despite himself, he found himself returning it.
You're in a corridor of the Enterprise, you moron! his mind screamed at him.
He peeled her off him and pushed her, harder than he would have liked, into her quarters. The doors hissed shut before she could get another "Whatever you say, Wesley" out.
Wesley turned to face a clearly astounded Charles, who was shaking his head in wonderment. "Go on," sighed Wesley. "Say it." "You know, Crusher," said Charles slowly, "my respect for you has just gone through the roof.
Getting a beauty like that--" "I didn't get her!" said Wes. "I didn't do anything with her!" "Nothing?" "No!" "Oh." Charles's face fell. And he walked off.
Very softly, very slowly, Wesley once again knocked his head against the nearest wall.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
It was kind of relaxing, in a way.
"All-powerful, you say?" Picard was leaning forward, trying with as much patience as he could to talk sense into her. "As near as we can tell, there is nothing that is beyond Q's powers. And that, Lwaxana, should be more than enough to make you realize that this cannot possibly work." "I don't realize any such thing," said Lwaxana. She took a bite of the meat that lay neatly sectioned on her plate, and Mr. Homn obediently sounded a gong of thanks. Picard would have been ready to offer thanks had that blasted gong cracked with the next stroke. "You may find this odd, Jean-Luc, but I find powerful men exciting." "I'm sure they can be exciting," Picard said with deliberate clarity. "Defusing a bomb rigged to the matterstantimatter mix can also be exciting. But one wrong move, and you can end up a rapidly fading memory." "Oh, that's not going to happen," she said dismissively.
"You don't know Q..." "You sound just like Deanna. It's patronizing, Jean-Luc, and I thought better of you." "The reason I sound just like Deanna is because we're both right. Q is not what he appears to be, either in body or in intent. He has something up his sleeve." "Yes, it appears to be a fairly muscular arm." Picard steepled his fingers, composing himself, trying to find an angle that would get through.
"Mrs Troi... Q has regarded this ship and her crew as nothing more than laboratory animals, to play out experiments for him. He is constantly trying to show that humanity is some pathetic, barbaric, violent, sadistic race." "And your response to charges of barbarism and violence is to try and throw him off the ship." "Yes--no!" said Picard quickly, and then sighed, "Well... yes. But only because of the damage and chaos that his earlier visits have caused. Deanna told you of how he hurled us far into unknown space..." "I thought exploring unknown space was your mission," said Lwaxana in carefully contrived confusion.
"Well... yes, but--" "So he used some of that remarkable power of his," she said with that breathy voice, "to aid you on your mission." "He left us at the mercy of the Borg, a race that has no mercy!" said Picard. "They carved out a section of the ship! Over a dozen of my people died because of Q!" "It seems to me that they died because of the Borg," pointed out Lwaxana.
"A race we would not have encountered for years yet, if it weren't for Q!" Picard said in exasperation. "A race of unrelenting conquerors..., destroying everything in sight." "But they didn't destroy you." "Yes, well... after making me grovel somewhat, Q brought us back to safety." "Hmm," said Lwaxana. "It seems to me that Q did you something of a service. By giving you that initial exposure to the Borg, you have that much more time to prepare defenses against their arrival. An arrival which, I would think, was somewhat inevitable in any event." "That may be," admitted Picard, "but--when he first met us, he put us on trial! He treated us terribly!" "It's not a capital offense to make a bad first impression," she said.
"He did similar things the second time we met!" "He does take a while to get to know," she allowed. "Although, of course, with my abilities, I can attain a rapport with greater ease than you." A part of him wanted to feel that Mrs. Troi deserved whatever she got and the hell with it all, but Picard couldn't do that to Deanna. He had to give his counselor every effort on her behalf.
Something warned him, though, not to mention to Lwaxana about the time Q had given the Q power to Riker. The last thing Mrs. Troi needed to know was that Q could share the power that was his.
"This will give you some idea of his gall," said Picard. "The last time he came here, he had no powers. He materialized on the bridge, stark naked..." "Really?" Her interest perked up. "Would you have a visual record of that, by any chance?" Picard ignored the comment as he continued. "He expected us to give him safe haven from a race that wanted to dispose of him for the tortures that he had inflicted on them. To save his own miserable hide, he thoughtlessly endangered the ship and then he..." Picard's voice trailed off.
"He what?" prompted Lwaxana.
"It was nothing." "What did he do?" she demanded.
"He... got his powers restored because he was willing to give up his life to save ours," sighed Picard.
Lwaxana stared at Picard with amusement.
"The monster! He should be hanged!" "Lwaxana--" he made one more desperate effort to get through to her. "It's all in his attitude. In the way he views us and our relation to him." "He's all-powerful and we're not." "That's about correct, yes." "But he's right!" said Lwaxana. "He is all-powerful. You've said as much yourself. And we're not. That's obvious. But perhaps what attracts him to me is the allure of my powerful mind. Not to mention my status," and she primped slightly, "as daughter of the Fifth House, and Holder of--" "Yes, yes, I know all that," said Picard impatiently. "What it boils down to..." "Is that you're jealous." Picard tried to respond to that, but nothing came readily.
