He drew in great lungfuls of air, finding the tingling sensation quite remarkable. The Nistral ship had nothing, absolutely nothing like this. Far in the distance, there were creatures that soared through the air without the need for ships of any sort. He remembered from his readings that they were called "birds." He found himself envying them immensely.
With a flap of graceful wings, they cut their own glorious arc through the sky. White clouds hung against a sky of glorious blue--blue, like one of the twin colors of the Graziunas.
He thought of Sehra and then smiled to himself. He must be in love, all right. Here he was, rock climbing down a cliff in a veritable wonderland, and still his thoughts flew back to his love--his lover. His body tingled at the remembered sensations, of the skin against skin and-- A piece of rock came off in his hand, andwitha cry of alarm, Kerin fell.
He tumbled but did not cry out again. He was a son of Nistral, and a son of Nistral would meet his end--if the end had come--with bravery.
The cliffside flashed past him--a blur--and far away were the sounds of birds screeching.
And then Kerin stopped.
His arms and legs flailed about in confusion for a moment, but he continued to hang there, in midair.
He wondered if this were part of some sort of computer failsafe.
"Well! It appears you've gotten yourself into some difficulty." Kerin twisted himself around.
There was a man standing there against the side of the cliff. Standing at an impossible angle, for he was parallel to the ground far below. He was simply jutting out from the cliffside, defying gravity. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was smiling sideways... well, all of him was sideways.
"Need some help?" asked Q.
Wesley and Sehra approached the transporter room, and Sehra turned and faced Wesley, smiling. "You've been far too cooperative, Mr. Crusher. I really want to thank you." "That's quite all right, really," Wesley smiled. "Just glad to help out." "Still, I feel I should give you something to thank you. We of the Graziunas believe very strongly in gifts as a symbol of appreciation." "That's not necessary." "To refuse a gift would be a grave insult," Sehra told him sternly. "You wouldn't want to insult us, would you?" "Of course not," said Wes quickly. "But it's not proper for members of Starfleet to accept gratuities for the performance of duty." "Showing us the holodeck was duty," Sehra said. "Calming Kerin and myself down and reminding us that we love each other--those were the actions of one I would like to call friend. It is a friend that I wish to reward." Wesley shrugged. "Whatever would please you," he said diplomatically.
Sehra bowed slightly. "I shall find something suitable," she said, and went into the transporter room.
"Nice kid," said Wesley, allowing himself to wonder briefly whether the blue faces of the Graziunas were some sort of makeup to show affiliation, or whether they were blue-skinned all over and it was something genetic. He shrugged, thought no more of it, and headed up to the bridge.
"Watch your step there." Kerin carefully picked his way around what was apparently the burrow of some animal. "Thank you, Q," he said graciously. "And thank you also for helping me out of my predicament. Your powers are quite impressive." Q put up a hand. "No problem, I assure you." They came to the edge of a small river that was teeming with life. Kerin watched it with rapt attention. "I've never seen anything like it," he whispered.
"Running water?" said Q with curiosity.
"Something as trivial as that, and you've never seen it?" "When you've lived your entire life in space, nothing having to do with nature is trivial." Q nodded approvingly. "I like you, young man.
You have a true appreciation for life. More so than your hosts, I tend to think." Kerin looked at him with curiosity. "Why do you say that?" "Oh," Q snorted disdainfully, "they are so full of themselves, these humans. Always going on and on about their higher qualities, about their compassion and generosity and thoughtfulness--it's all a lie, you know." "A lie?" Kerin found it hard to believe.
"But they seem friendly..." "Ah, they seem friendly, true enough," agreed Q. "But they're hypocrites, every one.
They profess such high and mighty beliefs.
Take their leaders--do they lead by example? I should say not! Here's a ship," and Q lowered his voice to a confidential tone, "that is supposed to be a haven for families and couples.
Do the leaders approve of this? They do not." "What do you mean, they don't approve?" "If they thought love and marriage were so wonderful, then they would have pursued that avenue," said Q. "But have they? Look at the senior officers." He ticked off on his fingers. "Is Picard married? Is he a father? No. Riker?
No. La Forge? No. Troi? She can't even get along with her own mother. Data?" He sighed.
"Pity. Data is the most fortunate of them, since he is not human, and that which he most desires is what would most destroy him. Like a moth to flame. And Worf--?" He paused.
"Well, he has a son, but he doesn't know it yet. He'll find out soon enough." "He does!" said Kerin in surprise. "How do you know?" "I'm Q," said Q simply. "If there were things I did not know, I'd be less than what I am. You're not to tell anyone." "Not a word," Kerin assured him.
Q shook his head. "Ironic, isn't it?
Of all of them, Worf is the one who goes and reproduces. There's something supremely silly about the workings of the cosmos. And you, my new young friend! You are the most impressive of all." "I am?" "Yes," said Q firmly, "because whereas these others give lip service to the concept of love, devotion, and parenting, you actually are dedicated enough to pursue it." "Thank you," said Kerin, genuinely flattered.
"Even though..." Q let the comment hang there, and Kerin was confused. "Even though what--?" "Oh, it's nothing," said Q. He sat on top of what appeared to be a roughly rectangular black casing, about large enough to fit a man inside. "Nothing at all." "No, really," smiled Kerin. "If you have something on your mind..." "What can I say?" said Q. "After all, I shall go on and on, long after you have fallen into dust, and your descendants have no recollection of your name. But you, who have such a limited time in this galaxy... it's impressive to me that you choose to spend that brief span you call life tied down to one person." Kerin didn't understand what he meant at first.
Then he smiled. "Oh, Sehra's a very special girl." "I'm sure she is," said Q. "Of course, many your age have married solely to experience the physical side of relationships.
I assume that's not the case with you and your intended." "No, not at all. Actually," and Kerin smiled, "we have experienced the physical side already, if you know what I mean. And now you have to promise not to tell anyone." "Oh, not a word," said Q. He rapped on the black casing absently. "Comforting to know that the physical aspect is not important to you, all things considered." "All things," echoed Kerin, but now he didn't quite understand. "Uhm... what "all things," specifically?" "Well!" said Q. "She's not going to stay young forever, is she? The bodies of humans and humanoids are somewhat like time bombs. The years tick away, and sooner or later--usually sooner--everything goes off. I'll show you, if you don't mind." "Not at all," said Kerin uneasily.
Q gestured and Sehra appeared in front of them, clad in a diaphanous white dress.
Kerin stood in confusion. "Sehra--?" She smiled beatifically as Q said, "Oh, it's not her. Not really. Merely a simulation in order to illustrate my point. Again, I am merely trying to show my respect for you." "Of course," Kerin said, suddenly wishing that Q had respect for someone else.
"It may happen gradually or it may happen slowly," said Q. "Usually the hair starts to go first..." Sehra didn't move, her lovely smile never fading, but her long, red-streaked hair began to whiten.
"You'll notice the first few strands, and she'll make a fuss over them, but after a time there'll be far too many to count," Q said. "Then the smiling, youthful face will begin to wrinkle. The eyes that sparkled at you in the bloom of your romance will develop crows-feet, and her gaze will turn from love to suspicion." The image of Sehra obediently followed Q's narration, and Kerin's blood chilled as he saw Sehra regarding him with lack of trust. It was--Gods!--it was just how Sehra's mother looked at him! And her face was creased, years of concerns and adult worries puckering the skin.
Relentlessly, Q kept going. "Her breasts will sag, her skin will shrivel and become hard and coarse. Her smooth neck will hollow out, her round cheeks become high and severe. She will go from being full of grace to lack of grace. Her body will become stooped, her suppleness a distant memory. That is how the companion that you have chosen in your youth will appear to you in your later years--years that could come sooner than you think." Sehra, a wrinkled, ancient crone, took a step towards him on a quavering foot. Her skin was so thin he could practically see her skull. Slowly she brought an arm up, an arm that had sagging skin hanging from it, covered with wrinkles and age spots. She pointed a long, withered, accusing finger at him.
Kerin shrieked and fell back, stumbling over a rock and landing--on his butt--in the water. The water wasn't high at all, but it was cold, and it splashed up into his face, dousing him. When he blinked, that ghastly image of Sehra was gone. Only Q was there.
"That," said Q, "is only a worst case scenario, of course." "Why did you show me that!" demanded Kerin, pulling himself to his feet.
Q looked stunned. "To show you how much I respect you!" "If you really respect me," said Kerin tightly, "then you'll respect when I say that I never want to see an abomination like that in the future. Never show it to me again!" Q inclined his head slightly. "I'm dreadfully sorry if my efforts to compliment you served to upset you. That was the farthest thing from my mind. Not being human, I'm not always capable of fully anticipating how humans will react. I will never show it, if that's your wish, my young friend.
But that you'll never see it again... that I cannot promise. You see... you're the one who's marrying her." Andwitha burst of light and sound, Q vanished.
When Wesley finished his shift, he went down to his quarters. He'd been falling behind on his studies for the Academy, and now seemed a good time to catch up.
He had been disturbed by the way Deanna Troi had looked on the bridge. Usually she was the picture of calm and certainty, an emotional rock from which others drew strength. Now, though, she seemed distant, concerned. She was not at peace with herself.
Wesley had been nursing something of a crush on her since he had first seen her. Like most teenage boys, he had a fantasy life that far outstripped his reality. Every so often he'd imagine coming back to his quarters and finding Counselor Troi, or perhaps one of the more attractive teenage girls he saw around the ship, waiting for him.
God, he hoped that the empathic Troi couldn't pick up on that. He wouldn't have been able to look her in the eye if she had. He didn't think she knew. He hoped she didn't. He sighed inwardly. If he had to go through life worrying about every good-looking female on board being able to tap into his head, he'd go out of his mind.
He entered his quarters, took two paces, and stopped dead.
A young woman was there. She looked to be in her late twenties. Her face was blue, with short red hair and long red eyelashes.
She was wearing a robe that she allowed to drop to the floor. As if in response to his unspoken question of earlier, Wesley saw that she was indeed blue-skinned, all over.
"I'm a gift from Sehra of the Graziunas." She smiled.
In all his fantasies, Wesley had always wondered what he'd say if he found himself in a situation like this one. What was the perfect line, the perfect icebreaker.
In a voice about an octave higher than his normal tone, he said, "Help." That wasn't it.
Chapter Twelve
Deanna Troi rang the chime at her mother's quarters, gamely determined to take yet another stab at explaining the situation to Lwaxana. At first there was no response, and Deanna knocked firmly. "Mother!" she called out. And then she thought, Mother.
Ah, Little One, came the reply. How good of you to join us. Enter and be welcome.
And Deanna thought, us? as she entered.
She had had a feeling she knew who was part of the "u" that had been mentioned, and it turned out she was correct. She stood there, just inside the doorway, shaking her head.
Q and Lwaxana were there, each holding a glass of wine. "Deanna. I believe you know my companion," said Lwaxana.
"Better than you do, mother. I can assure you of that," said Deanna tightly. "Q, I would like you to leave." "And I," said Lwaxana, equally firmly, "would like him to stay." "If this is a bad time..." Q began innocently.
Deanna was about to make reply, but Lwaxana cut her off with a sharp, "Deanna, I'll not have such rudeness. Q is a guest." "I thought you had a fight." Lwaxana smiled. "We made up.
Didn't we, Q?" "Yes, indeed. Your mother is quite a woman, Counselor Troi," Q informed her. "She's like none I've ever encountered." "Or will again, I daresay," Lwaxana laughed. She and Q clinked their glasses.
