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Brought To You By The Letter Q

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Ficlet(s)

Summary: Q just couldn't resist. Written for the Fic A Day challenge

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Star Trek > Star Trek - The Next GenerationgrundyFR764,14736326,79710 Aug 0930 Aug 11Yes

Present

Disclaimer: Joss created Buffy, Gene Roddenbury created Star Trek. I'm just playing in their sandbox for a bit.

Buffy frowned. This slaying was not going according to plan. Or as close to a plan as she ever had in routine patrol. It wasn’t going badly enough to cut and run, but still… A vampire with the mojo wasn’t that common, so this one had been a surprise. She was pretty sure the bastard was toying with her.

Just as she was about to land what should have been a perfect stake to the heart, the vamp snapped his fingers and the world changed. The sudden switch from rocky hillside to flat, carpeted floor made Buffy stumble.

As she looked up, a dulcet female voice announced, “Intruder Alert.”

A fearsome-looking creature that might be a demon had something that had to be a weapon trained on her. But he was dressed similarly to the humans seated in front of her. What the heck?

“Computer, cancel alarm,” ordered the bald one in the middle.

---

The Galaxy class starship Enterprise had been enjoying a long period of relative calm, with a few uneventful science missions interspersed amidst ferrying diplomats to various conferences. Picard knew it was too good to last long. He just hadn’t expected the disruption to take the form of…

“Q, what the devil are you doing on my ship now?”

The rest of the bridge crew was too busy gaping in astonishment. The usually mischievous being had a distinct pout on his face. That didn’t bode well.

“Tsk, tsk, Jean-Luc. Anyone would think you weren’t happy to see me.”

“For the excellent reason that I’m not, Q. What do you want this time?”

“Not happy to see me?” I’m wounded, mon capitain. Our little visits are always so amusing.”

“For you, perhaps,” Worf rumbled, his tone implying he would find them more amusing if they featured unpleasant and painful things happening to Q.

“Now, now, let’s try to be pleasant, Worf. Who knows, you might even enjoy it.”

“Q!” Picard’s tone had reached sufficient annoyance for Q to come to the point.

“Jean-Luc, it seems that I am in bad odor with the rest of the Continuum. They feel I’ve been insufficiently…nice in my interactions with your species.”

“How ever could they think such a thing?” Riker said at his driest.

“Exactly what I said,” Q replied, missing- or more likely choosing to ignore- the sarcasm. “At any rate, I’ve been ordered to make more of an effort. So I’m here to give you a present.”

Now the bridge crew were alarmed. They knew from experience that Q’s ‘presents’ were something best approached with extreme caution.

“You could just go away,” Data suggested.

“That’s hardly a present,” Q chided. “Besides, I’ve found something wonderful for you. In fact, it may be something of a present for her too…no matter. I’ll drop in later to see how you’re all getting along.”

He vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.

Picard sighed. From the sound of it, Q was toying with more than just the Enterprise crew this time.

“Mr. Worf, instruct security to be on the alert for anything- no, anyone- unexpected,” he ordered. Tapping his communicator, he added, “Counselor Troi to the bridge.”

“On my way, captain,” came the response.

Another sudden flash had Picard ready to demand that Q either give them the ‘present’ and be done with it, or go away and leave them alone. But this time it wasn’t Q who appeared. It was a small blonde woman, who seemed as surprised to be there as the bridge crew were to see her. She was clutching a sharpened piece of wood in one hand as she looked at them in confusion.

“Intruder alert,” the computer helpfully announced.

“Computer, cancel alert,” Picard ordered.

Before he could say anything else or the blonde woman could speak, the turbolift doors parted to reveal Counselor Troi, who stopped short at the scene in front of her. Taking in the tableaux and the accompanying wash of confusion, irritation, and curiosity, she could only think of one thing to say.

“What have I missed?”
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