the presence of security was not needed at this first reception for the Tizarin. Picard had felt that it was imperative to try and set a relaxed atmosphere for the proceedings in order to encourage the air of cooperation and goodwill that was necessary for this gathering. Worf had agreed, albeit with some reluctance. To the Klingon, there was no such thing as too much caution.
Rather than sit in the captain's chair, however, he hovered nearby at the security station, keeping abreast of routine developments through the quadrant via Starfleet communications. He performed this function in much the same way that twentieth-century automobile drivers kept themselves apprised of developing traffic jams.
Forewarned is forearmed, and if the Ferengi or any potential troublemakers were to wander into the area, or if anyone had declared war on somebody else, then Worf wanted to be prepared.
Deanna Troi sat in her customary seat on the bridge. She was there for two reasons-- first, because she knew that her mother was down at the reception, and she was still uncomfortable enough with this Ab'brax business that she wanted to give her mother some distance. The second was that crowded parties tended to be uncomfortable affairs for her. The barrage of empathic waves could practically be battering to her.
She envied her mother's superior and formidable telepathic abilities. Lwaxana could easily erect powerful screens that shielded her from the thoughts of others. She could pick and choose as she saw fit, since she was a full Betazoid, and a strong one at that. Deanna was half-Betazoid. She had her carefully trained empathic skills, and she could receive from a skilled sender such as her mother. Still, how much more could she accomplish as a counselor if only.
Little One sounded in her head.
Deanna blinked in surprise. Usually her mother didn't broadcast unless they were face to face. Something must be up. She called upon her rarely used projection talent, and sent back, What is it, mother? For the moment she chose to ignore the annoying Little One.
I'm curious, dear. Does the letter Q have any meaning for you?
Deanna's eyes widened. "Q!" Worf's head snapped up immediately. His voice dropped a tone lower in register.
"Q?" he said cautiously. "Counselor, what are you--?" Mother, why did you bring it up? Deanna demanded.
There's the oddest individual here, and Jean-Luc associated him with that letter.
Deanna immediately got to her feet. "I'll be right down," she said to thin air. "Worf, hurry," and she bolted into the turbolift.
Worf had no idea what was going on, but he immediately followed her into the lift. The rest of the bridge crew stared at each other in confusion.
In the turbolift, she said, "Ten-Forward deck," and then turned to Worf as the turbolift started towards its destination. "I believe Q is at the party." "He picked the wrong one to crash," rumbled Worf, touching his communicator. "Worf to security. Meet me at Ten-Forward. Q is there." "Why hasn't the captain summoned you?" she asked him.
"Perhaps Q is blocking his transmission. In that event, I do not wish to do anything to warn Q we are coming. That way, we have the element of surprise on our side." "Somehow, Worf," said Deanna Troi ruefully, "I tend to think Q always possesses the element of surprise, because he is Q." Worf checked the level of his phaser. "Then I'll borrow it," the Klingon said curtly.
"What are you doing here, Q?" demanded Picard.
Q actually looked hurt at Picard's tone. It was, Picard thought, a splendid bit of acting. "I? Merely enjoying your hospitality, Picard. Am I not entitled?" "No, you are not," shot back the captain.
Graziunas was looking from Picard to Q and back again. "Captain, is there some problem here?" he asked.
"Yes," said Nistral, also looking confused.
"Do tell us. The admiral was being most
editor Elizabeth Benedict