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The moment Q scans the enterprise, he knows something is different. There are cobwebs everywhere, but weirdly enough there are no actual spiders to explain their sudden presence. And they seem to be made of… plastic?
What is happening here? The starship certainly never seemed to have a problem with cleanliness before..
Thankfully he then spots the familiar face of an android, walking down one of the corridors, so logically he materializes right beside him. Certainly not hoping to startle him, as such tomfoolery is clearly beneath him. No, obviously that isn’t the reason… it would be funny though.
“Hello Data.”
The android swivels around (far more quickly than a human ever could), hand on his taser, only to visibly relax when he realizes just who the sudden intruder is.
“Oh, Q. It is you.”
Automatically, Datas hand reaches for his combadge, only to find it gone.
Q shrugs apologetically.
“I wouldn’t want you to ruin my great entrance.”
Only now does Q fully take in the androids outfit. He isn’t wearing his usual uniform, but a really outdated looking brown coat, and his usually smooth skin is riddled with scars. There is even a screw coming out of his neck.
Horrified, Q takes a step back.
„Data.. what happened here? When have you been hurt this badly? And why are you wearing that… thing?“
For a second Data seems confused, but he catches on quickly as always.
“Oh, you are referring to my costume! Do not worry, I was not hurt. I am simply portraying Dr Frankenstein’s monster, for it is Halloween.”
Trying to distract Data from what could have easily been misinterpreted as worry (how embarrassing!), he cranks up his arrogance an extra notch, although he is relieved by the knowledge the android probably didn’t notice either of the two, not being particularly knowledgeable in the emotions department.
“Halloween? What is that, another pathetic human tradition?”
“Halloween, derived from All Hallows’ evening, is an ancient human tradition, originally dedicated to remembering the dead. In modern context it has become more about celebrating all things deemed “spooky”. Dressing up in costumes, playing harmless pranks and eating candies is the most important part of the tradition, as Geordi has told me.”
Q registers the soft, adoring tone in which Data adds the last part, but says nothing about it.
A celebration of all things scary? How typically human. But costumes, pranks and candy? That sounds like something he might immensely enjoy…
“And your costume? This “Frankenstein”, why did you choose it?”
“I annalysed all of the typical costume choices and came to the conclusion that the fictional character of Frankensteins Monster has the most similarities with my personal history. He too was not born but created, wishes only to love and be loved, yet is perceived as “other”, “dangerous” and a “monster”. All things I have been called also.”
Ignoring the spark of anger this statement makes him feel, Q makes a mental note to find out who exactly said that to Data, planning to pay them a friendly little visit sometime very soon…
Not even he could seriously dislike the android, so childlike in wonder, and he had certainly tried. Why would anyone perceive him as a threat? Laughable. Sure, he could snap all their necks in a split second, should he choose to do so, but his personality is too much alike with that of a puppy, searching for validation from its beloved master..
“That doesn’t sound like a fun idea, and believe me, I‘m a costume expert. This whole body is a costume after all. The real question is, do you really like your costume? Does it make you happy?”
“Like it? I do not know. It seemed to make sense.”
The aliens frown slowly turns to a grin, as an idea forms.
“Oh little android, I have a wonderful idea! Why don’t I change your costume into something that matches your personality way better!”
“I am not quite sure-“
“Too late! I have already decided!”
And Q snaps his fingers, quickly making the ugly old coat, the scars and the screw vanish, replacing it with a soft and comfortable, fuzzy orange jumpsuit and matching cat ears. As a finishing touch he adds whiskers and a cat nose in makeup.
Proudly he scans his finished work. Way better.
“There! Your new costume is spot.”
The androids face might be mostly expressionless, but Q could swear the androids eyes light up.
“Your assumption seems to have been correct, as I do enjoy this costume more. I shall adjust my strategy of costume choosing for next year. Thank you.”
Smiling over his newest victory, Q vanishes to find his grumpy captain, leaving cat-Data to do… cat things. Like blankly staring at a wall or whatever cats did to amuse themselves these days.
I wonder what Jean-Luc is dressed up as… perhaps one of his beloved book characters? Maybe Hamlet? Or maybe he refused to dress up at all, deeming it too “childish and fun“ for his tastes?
He appears in the ready room, surprising the captain, who is currently sitting peacefully at his desk.
“Hello Jean-Luc! Don’t worry, I’ve already heard about your “Halloween”, and I really have to say it’s-“
But as he catches sight of the captain, his words just.. stop.
The captain is wearing an old fashioned suit, black pants and vest with silvery buttons, and a blood red shirt.
Draped across his strong shoulders is a billowing red and black cape.
He looks positively stunning.
And he’s staring at him… waiting for something? But for what?
Finally Jean-Luc takes pity in him, breaking the silence.
“You really have to say that it’s what, Q?”
Good question. What does he have to say about it? That it’s silly? Stupid? Adorably human?
“..it’s uh…. quite interesting. I would like to stay here and learn more about it.”
After a short moment, he adds:
“If you allow it.”
The stern captain sighs.
“Sadly I don’t know how to stop you.”
“Great! I will be needing a costume then. Hm, lets see…”
After a snap of his fingers, Q is dressed in a revealing purple toga, a crown of grapevines woven into his curly brown hair.
Suddenly Picard finds that he misses the captains uniform the entity is so undeserving of. At least it was less revealing and, yes, distracting, as he silently admits to himself.
Carefully keeping these thoughts off his face, he redirects his attention to the Padd on his desk. Better focus on something else. Q ignores the obvious hint that Picard would like to continue working, dramatically striking a pose to show off his costume.
“Obviously I had to choose a costume that matches my flamboyant personality and stunning sense of style, not at all easy with your boring human options… but this one is not too bad. What do you think Jean-Luc?“
Fighting to keep his brain on a short leash, Picard admires Qs newest costume. It truly looks as extravagant as one would expect from him. The silky purple is interwoven with delicate threats of gold, glimmering in the almost sterile light of the room. His unruly brown locks look longer than normal, silkier, accented by dark green grapevines. The glinting dark eyes and smug smirk certainly match the costume quite well, fit for the arrogance of a god.
Careful to make his voice sound slightly bored, he voices his guess.
“Dionysus I assume? Of course you wouldn’t settle for a mortal character.“
The baffled expression on Qs face tells him that he has hit the mark exactly. The expression is gone as quickly as if it had never existed though, hidden once again beneath the thick layer of arrogance Picard knows so well by now.
“Obviously! Who else could match me, except the god of ecstasy, wine, madness and theatre?“
“I didn’t peg you for a mythology enthusiast.“
“Your ancient human pantheons did have some charm, as I must admit. They were certainly better than your later monotheistic cults. I mean, just one god? Boring! What would he do all day?“
“He would probably harass poor mortals who are just tying. to do. their. work.“
Picards pointed glance does not go unnoticed.
“Oh, I am absolutely wounded Jean-Luc! You think this is harassment? I am simply trying to “party hard“ as you mortals are so fond of saying.“
Like so often in the company of Q, Picard facepalms. There is an infinity amount of things he’d rather do, than witness the unpredictable chaos of an omnipotent and highly irresponsible being “partying hard“ on his ship.
“Unless of course, you’d prefer it if I continued doing what I was originally planning to do aboard, although you might like that even less…“
The mischievous, borderline threatening glint in those dark eyes sends a familiar shiver through Picard, a shiver he chooses to interpret as fear.
“On second thought, enjoy the festivities I suppose. Don’t touch anything important, don’t bother the crew, don’t endanger anyone, don’t-“
“Yes yes,“ Q interrupts impatiently “don’t do anything fun, I get it, I’m not a child. Must you always be so bland?“
The familiar criticism is more amusing than annoying at this point. If Q is the epitome of “interesting“, being boring is perfectly okay in Picards book, preferable even. Besides, the self proclaimed god never did manage to make the statement sound quite as hateful as it might have originally been intended.
“Behave like a child, get treated like one. Be thankful if I will not be ordering you to go to bed as the evening progresses.“
The mischievous glint intensifies tenfold, and the captain immediately regrets his words. Oh he is definitely going to purposefully misinterpret this. I just know it.
“You want me to go to bed with you? Quite dominant, ordering me around like that and expecting me to obey. Especially since you know I do not sleep… oh Jean-Luc,“ he flutters his eyelashes dramatically, “Whatever will you do to me in that bed, if we will not be sleeping?“
Hiding his burning face in his hands, Picard sighs in embarrassment. Why must Q be so vulgar? And why must his brain imagine the scene Q insinuated oh so vividly?
“Please leave my room.“
“Oh gladly! We shall go dancing then!“
All the warning bells go off at once in the stoic captains head, leading to a confusing mixture of all kinds of pleasant and unpleasant feelings, most prominently panic.
“We? What do you mean we?! I have no intention of-“
But dionysian Q, arguably the god of party, does not seem particularly inclined to listen to the humans protests.
“Well, it simply wouldn’t do to dance alone, would it now? What would others think of me?“
With the usual dramatic little snap Q vanishes, a mortified looking Picard involuntarily following suit.