Time of the Enterprises

A story where Q is sent to the Original Enterprise in 2265. Exiled, really. In a timeline that does not require any Prime Directives from the Q. Who says there isn't reasons why a Q should get the taste of their own medicine? This takes place shortly after the events of 'Mirror,Mirror'. This is told in Q's perspective.

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101. Another chapter with a unusual title

I don't know who I am.

They call me  Q.

Why?

I feel that Q is supposed to mean something great or flat. Something so dreadful I despise of. They stopped the tests what seemed to be a considerably long time ago. It was so short. Time seems to be irrelevant. I was reading a magazine. At least I could still read, thank the cosmos. It was . . . Relieving to know that.  Being able to read is one of the vitals to being alive asides to writing, memory, and having a good idea what you are doing.

I don't know why but I rolled my eyes at some of the science section to the Magazine Padd.

"Oops." I heard a deep voice.

I looked over to see a man with a unusual forehead, black curly hair, and brown skin  get up off the floor. He had tripped over jump robe that was incredibly thick. I felt amusement toward this fellow who reminded me of some-one.  I studied his eyes. Those incredibly serious stubborn eyes that seemed to remind me of an animal. Was it a lion? They were rather human like, really. So very human than reptile.

"Hi." I said.

Did I know this man?

I felt like I had known him for years.

I wheeled right over toward the strange man with a strange forehead.

The dark man with a strange forehead looked in my direction and almost screamed. Well, he didn't really. He was certainly terrified by the looks of it. I raised a eyebrow at what the poor man could be so scared of. The dark man cleared his throat taking deep breaths and exhaling them out. He muttered something along the lines of, "It is all in my head. It is all in my head. He can't be THAT old."

I rolled up the incredibly bendable Padd Magazine.

"Who are you calling old?" I asked then hit his knee with it.

"I am." The strange man said.

I unrolled the Padd Magazine then held my hand out.

"The name is Old  Q," I said, earning a surprised look from the man. "I don't really know my name. I just adopted the name." I shrugged. "I certainly do not like being called old. Really, I feel healthy and strong as I ever been!"

The strange man stared at my metal right hand for awhile.

Then he shook it.

"My name is Worf."  Worf said. "Worf of Qo'nos."

"Kronos. . ." I said. "Ah, Klingon."

We ended our hand shake.

Worf nodded.

"How come you don't remember me, Q?" Worf asked.

"Remember you?" I asked. "I just met you, young man."

Worf lowered down to my level.

"This is not the first time we met," Worf said. "We met on The Enterprise in 2364.  I was recently assigned."

I shook my head.

"I do not know you," I said. "Besides, I am enjoying my retirement from .  . . What was it?" I tapped on my hairy chin. "Hm . . . It must have been extremely important."

I grew a beard over god knows how long.

"Hey  Old Q!" Came the woman with little thorns around her face. I call her Lettie Macrommer. She has three personalities. THREE! That's the most I remember about her. "The fall party is  about to commence!"

"Nice meeting you. . . What is your name again?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Worf." Worf said, his voice so low and sounded like it was at the breaking point.

Was it pity?

Worf stood up upright.

"Nice meeting you, Worf."  I wheeled after Lettie.

Worf looked at my direction with a facial expression I cannot place.

My first fall party.

In a sense this hotel was better than the previous one because there were more than three channels, they actually had dogs and cats! The dogs were so friendly, like one of them normally jumps on the edge of my bed and curls up falling asleep. He is a dachshund who has a really long tale and has a piebald appearance similar to a cow. He is really small.  Dachshund gives me dog kisses on my face when  I least want them.

I call him Pie.

Pie acts strangely, such as barking at thin air and randomly growling at something in the hall.

I remember one moment that he did because it was so unusual.

I remember it because of how odd it was.

Pie was resting by my wheelchair as I and Lettie were playing chess.

"Check mate!" Lettie said.

"You win," I said. "My turn to be the white army."

"You always pick the white army," Lettie said. "How about the black army."

"I do not." I said.

"Actually, she is quite right." Slevik, a two hundred thirty year old Romulan-Human halfbreed, said. He had prosthetic legs. "Ninety-nine percent of the time you pick white and the other percent of the time you chose black. Though you claim not to remember."

I sighed.

"All right," I said. "I will be the black army. Happy now?"

"Quite so!" Lettie said.

Pie raised his head up and started barking. I looked over to see a empty corner as did Slevik and Lettie including a few other old people. Lettie slid the black army right to my direction. I looked down toward the small hot dog shaped pet then rubbed the back of Pie's back ever so gently. Dogs can sense the good and evil in others. His growl deepened and his tail went up. He put up a defense position.

"Pie, nothing is going on that deserves your sonic bark." I said.

I felt a dark and ominous presence in the room.

Yes, things do get odd in hotels.

A dark cloud lurked behind Slevik.

"Behind you." I mouthed.

Stupid Pie was barking at the cloud.

What I saw next will scar me for life and I will never ever forget that. It was followed by a quick snap. Slevik's neck had been snapped in front of our lives. Some of us wheeled or ran out of the room screaming in panic. We just saw one of our own acting so calm and casual. His eyes on the rest of us. He had made no sign that he was afraid. He was reading a Padd. A erotic Data Padd I would later learn. They had repeatedly told him no erotic reading for so long. I was there when they first warned him about elevating his pleasure related chemicals as too much would send him spiraling out of control.

You might call him the 'romulan who was drunk on pleasure'.

I was trembling, I recall.

One of us put salt at the doorway to a room we hid out and refused to leave for a complete twenty for hours. We watched the hunched dark figure stare at us with a skeletal like face. Poor Pie was still barking at the damn being! I could feel my heart race thinking of the nasty being getting his hands on Pie and murdering him. It was a fate too cruel for a little strange dog with piebald colors. So four hours into the barking madness I wheeled over to the doorway while everyone else beckoned me to get back before the grim reaper decided I would be next.

It was not just creepy but frightening!

It was like a late Halloween coming around for a day.

I grabbed the dog by the neck then wheeled back over fast as I could. Little Pie calmed down and stopped barking when we were in a group but he was still trembling like a leaf. If dogs had emotions they would certainly have fear programmed inside their little brain not only set for sense and instinct. We were so scared we forgot about sleep and hunger. The lights had gone out in the hallway. Petting Pie eased my worries. I could have been scared to death if it wasn't for Slevik.

Twenty-four hours in the lights turned on.

We would later learn fourteen people died that day.

Those who refused to believe death was in the air had become victims. That was on August 1st when it happened, as I recall now. There was a memorial service for those who had foolishly fallen not listening to their elders. Not listening to those who knew what was on their mind when they saw a man's head be twisted inexplicably. No one said a word but after that there were crosses put up on the wall, religion signs added, and religious programs were offered to the others. I refused. There was no such thing as god. How did I know? I just knew it in my soul.

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