Caption Winners!

Ahem. I did reach into the jar. I did, I'll confess, include my own caption in said jar. And said jar apparently liked my caption! (*Rose hangs her head in shame.*) And although I loved O'Brien telling off Maxwell, the jar chose another one of Julianna's gems.

So thank you for all these wonderful entries! Great job everyone! Here are our winners, the first from me (*blush*) and the second from Julianna:

McCoy: Oh for the love of...Spock! Put away that sword--she's not the enemy!

O'Brien: Begging the captain's pardon, sir, but ye did know that this is a gay bar, didn't you?

Ah yes...Picard and Riker, perhaps?

Not For the Timid

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan-fiction (Star Trek: The Next Generation, Picard-Q)

Rating: PG

Summary: Q teaches Picard a painful lesson in Q Who--a lesson that not only cuts Picard down to size, but shows him just how ruthless a teacher this entity is...

~

Picard stared at Q. The entity had just rescued the Enterprise with a snap of his fingers.

But the Borg had killed eighteen of Picard’s crew—and Q had done nothing to prevent it. Those people had died just so that Q could teach him a lesson in humility. Just so Q could show him that he had best re-think his hubris. Just so Q could prove to him that humanity was not prepared for the enemy to come.

Picard swallowed, but somehow stopped his voice from shaking as he spoke. “I understand what you’ve done here, Q—but I think the lesson could have been learned without the loss of eighteen members of my crew.”

Q was unimpressed. “If you can’t take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and crawl under your bed,” he taunted.

Picard started at that. So those eighteen were truly dead. Q had no intention of restoring them to life with another snap of his fingers. For the first time Picard realized—not just intellectually, but in his very soul—that Q was something…something other.

He might argue with Q, he might reason with Q, he might anger Q, he might inspire Q’s compassion or even…even a love of sorts. But he could not relate to Q man-to-man. Q was no mere mortal. He was an ancient being—no, an eternal being—and he viewed humanity from a cosmic perspective.

The Borg were an unimaginably dangerous enemy. If it took eighteen innocent lives to prove that point, then Q was more than willing to sacrifice them. But why had Q wanted to prove that? Merely to score a point against Picard?

The entity had done humanity a favor. Perhaps he had done it for the wrong reason—but, nonetheless, the Federation would have some warning about the Borg.

Or had it been for the wrong reason? Picard chided himself for his arrogance—this same arrogance that Q had set out to destroy. Why should he think that Q’s interest extended no further than himself? It was possible…just possible…that Q had acted on behalf of all humanity.

But the thought of Q as the advocate and protector of humanity frightened him almost as much as the thought of Q as capricious and indifferent. On the contrary, it frightened him even more. If Q were merely indifferent to humans, he might grow weary of these games. But if Q were working toward some higher purpose for humanity, he would never give up on them—and he would pursue his purpose with utter ruthlessness.

From Q’s cosmic perspective, the ends would always justify the means. And eighteen innocent lives would remain, for him, an unfortunate and unavoidable ‘bloody nose.’

All that flashed through Picard’s mind in an instant—but none of it was lost on Q. The entity leaned in ever-so-slightly.

“It’s not safe out here,” he said, giving Picard a look that somehow combined compassion with mockery. “It’s wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires, both subtle and gross. But it’s not for the timid.”

And with that, Q disappeared. Picard swore under his breath. He was no closer to understanding the entity. But at least now he had an inkling of just how little he understood.

If nothing else, Q had kicked him out of his complacency. Now Picard would have to do the same to the Federation.

~The End~

Complacency

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Star Trek: The Next Generation; Picard-Q)

Rating: G

Summary: In this drabble, Picard reflects on the painful lesson Q has taught him in the episode Q Who.

~

Eighteen of my crew dead. Why? So Q could kick us out of our complacency. I grant him the necessity of that lesson—but did it require eighteen lives?

He looked almost amused as he responded. If I can’t stand a bloody nose, he said, go home. This is a wondrous universe, but not a safe one.

I ought to be furious with him. I’m outraged by the loss of life. And yet some part of me accepts that he sees a larger picture than we humans do.

God help us, but it’s possible that Q knows what he’s doing.

~The End~

Unexpected Comfort

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Star Trek: TNG, Picard-Q)

Rating: PG

Summary: Q offers his brand of comfort to Jean-Luc in the wake of a tragedy.

~

Picard stared down at the corpse of the young ensign. He was laid out in sick bay, soon to be prepared for burial. He looked strangely alive lying there, as if he would awake at any moment. But that was an illusion, Picard thought bitterly. In truth, the lad was dead--and he was dead for no good reason.

The boy had not given his life in battle; he’d had no opportunity for such heroics. Instead, he’d been killed by an aneurysm that Dr. Crusher could not even account for. A freak occurrence, it seemed.

“Upsetting, isn’t it, mon capitaine?”

Picard’s eyes shot up at that. Q had materialized opposite him. He was standing on the other side of the body, dressed in an elaborate suit of mourning that would have been appropriate on earth in the late Victorian era. He even wore the black gloves and top hat to match. And he carried a handsomely carved walking stick.

Picard took a deep breath and forced himself not to roll his eyes at the entity. “What do you want, Q?” he asked, somehow keeping his voice even.

“Why, merely to comfort an old friend,” Q answered, raising an eyebrow.

Picard took another deep breath and managed a small smile. “Thank you,” he said. “But there’s little comfort you can offer, I’m afraid, in the face of such a senseless death.”

“Why Jean-Luc,” Q chided, slanting his eyes at the captain, “surely you don’t doubt that the Almighty Himself can offer comfort under any circumstances?”

This time Picard did roll his eyes. “You are not God,” he insisted. “And if you were I wouldn’t want comfort from you--I’d want to call you to account!”

Q rubbed his hands together in delight. “That’s the spirit! Ooh--what next? Shall I manifest to you as a voice from a whirlwind?” He paused to adopt a mock-thundering tone. “Where were you, Jean-Luc, when I created the multiverse and your pitiful little earth? And where were you when I set the stars in motion and the planets spinning? Do you think that you, a puny biped without a shred of cosmic perspective, are entitled to call Me to account?”

Another reluctant smile escaped Picard at this adaptation from the Book of Job. He almost envied Job at the moment. However much that character had suffered, at least he had his opportunity to put the Almighty on trial, so to speak, for all the injustices of life.

“As I recall, Q, that voice from the whirlwind was not displeased with Job,” Picard pointed out, “despite Job’s presumption.”

“No, He wasn’t,” Q agreed. “But neither could He explain to the puny human why things happen the way they do--and Job came to accept that. Charming story, isn’t it?”

“‘Charming’ isn’t quite the word I’d choose,” Picard returned dryly, turning his attention back to the boy.

Q sighed and snapped his fingers, transforming himself back to his customary uniform. Apparently he’d grown weary of the Victorian outfit.

The entity stared down at the corpse and furrowed his brow. Then he stroked the boy’s hair with what appeared to be genuine tenderness. “It does seem a waste, doesn’t it?” he mused. “For a such a pathetic race, your kind is surprisingly endearing.”

“He was a promising young man,” Picard said softly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Q, I must send word to his family.”

“Of course you must,” Q agreed, moving to the captain’s side and placing an arm around his shoulders. “But I’ll remain with you, Jean-Luc. I wouldn’t dream of deserting you in your hour of need!”

Picard inhaled sharply. “That is quite…unnecessary, I assure you.”

But Q shook his head condescendingly, as if he knew best. Picard opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly found himself seated at his desk.

“There,” the entity said as he took a chair opposite the captain. “Now you can figure out what to say to the boy’s loved ones. I’ll sit right here, quiet as a mouse, ready to lend you whatever succor you require.”

There was a sharp retort on the tip of Picard’s tongue--but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to utter it. In the face of such a pointless tragedy, he decided, he needed all the comfort he could muster.

Even if it came from Q.

~The End~

Clip of the Day--Taken Out of Context...

Okay, this is one of those scenes that deserves to be taken out of context! Prepare yourself for an intimate look at Picard and Q:

Clip of the Day~O'Brien sings The Minstrel Boy

This is my all time favorite scene from STAR TREK: The Next Generation. In The Wounded, O'Brien sings the first verse of a classic Irish folk song (and war song) called The Minstrel Boy (lyrics below):



There is another fine version of this song--more rousing than O'Brien's, if not as emotionally taut--by Danny Quinn:



And Star Trek: Deep Space Nine also made good use of the song:



And now for the lyrics. I'm giving you both verses, even though O'Brien sings only the first:

The Minstrel Boy

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!"

I've also seen a third verse to this song, allegedly added by the Irish regiments fighting for the Union during the American Civil War:

The Minstrel Boy will return we pray
When we hear the news we all will cheer it,
The minstrel boy will return one day,
Torn perhaps in body, not in spirit.
Then may he play on his harp in peace,
In a world such as Heaven intended,
For all the bitterness of man must cease,
And ev'ry battle must be ended.

Clip of the Day~DeForest Kelley Introduces TNG (Duplicate Post--long story)

Yes...this is a duplicate post. Long story! I have two 'phantom' posts on my blog--you can see them sometimes but not always. So I'm reposting this, just as I reposted Lawful Obedience, Part Twenty.

But that's ok, right? DeForest Kelley is so utterly charming that he's always worth a second look: