Free Star Trek: The Q Continuum by Greg Cox Page A

replied. “Allow me to introduce you to my better half, Q.” He teleported over to the adjacent table and patted the child on the head. “And this, of course, is little q.”
    “Daddy!” the boy said gleefully. In his excitement, he forgot to hold on to his “ball,” which rolled inexorably toward the edge of the table. With a muted cry of alarm, Geordi La Forge ran over and caught the sphere right as it went over the brink. He let out a sigh of relief and turned toward Picard.
    “It doesn’t look like an M-class planet,” the engineer informed his captain, “but who can be sure?”
    “I can,” Q stated flatly, taking back the globe from Geordi, who hesitated for a heartbeat before surrendering it. Q grinned and gently shook his finger at the child. “How many times have I told you to be more careful with your toys? Let’s put this back into its solar system where it belongs.” The orange sphere vanished from sight. “That’s a good boy.”
    This picture of Q as a doting and responsible parent was almost more than Picard could stomach. He didn’t know whether to laugh or grimace, so he spoke to the mother instead. “I am happy to meet you,” he said diplomatically. “I was unaware that Q had a family.”
    “Oh, it’s a new development,” Q explained cheerfully. He snapped his fingers and a rain of white rice descended on the lounge. “We’re newlyweds. Isn’t it delightful?” The deluge of grain ceased and Q rejoined his bride at her side. “Sorry we couldn’t invite you to the ceremony, Jean-Luc, but it was something of a shotgun wedding.” He winked at the female Q, as if sharing a private joke with her. A generous assortment of fragrant red roses appeared in the woman’s arms. “I’d offer to rethrow the bouquet, but I see that neither the counselor nor Dr. Crusher is present.” He raised his hand in front of Picard’s face and rubbed his thumb and his index finger together. “Of course, I can always remedy that situation.”
    “Leave Counselor Troi and the doctor where they are,” Picard said more quickly than his pride would have preferred. He didn’t know for sure that either Beverly or Deanna was sleeping, but he knew that neither woman would appreciate being yanked from whatever she was doing merely to serve as the butt of one of Q’s puerile jokes. He angrily brushed the fallen rice off his uniform while his fellow crew members did the same. Curiously, not a grain appeared to have stuck to either Q.
    “Spoilsport,” Q said with a scowl. He exchanged a look with his wife. “See what I mean about him?”
    The woman gave Picard another frank appraisal. “I still don’t understand,” she admitted. “He doesn’t seem very amusing.”
    He gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek. “That’s because, darling, you’ve forgotten the ancient, primeval concept of the straight man.”
    Her eyes lit up. “Oh, now I see it.” She blushed and peered at Q through her lashes as if mildly scandalized. “But, Q, that’s so…carbon-based of you!”
    “Isn’t it just?” he said, preening. They both tittered slyly at his apparent outrageousness. The child, seeing his parents laughing, started giggling as well, although Picard rather suspected the boy didn’t get the joke. He wasn’t sure he wanted to either, although he derived a degree of satisfaction and relief from this confirmation that Q was considered something of a reprobate and rascal even among his own kind. The idea of an entire race of godlike beings just as mischievous and troublesome as Q was enough to fill him with utter dread. I suppose it’s too much to hope, he thought, that Q will settle down now that he’s a husband and a father.
    As often happened with toddlers, the child’s attack of the giggles escalated to a full-scale bout of hysterical silliness. He began bouncing up and down on the tabletop, shrieking at the top of his lungs—which sounded like it was in the upper decibel range. Everyone except