Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!atl-c03.usenetserver.com!news.usenetserver.com!newsread.com!news-xfer.newsread.com!postnews.google.com!f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com!not-for-mail From: "Kelly Chambliss" Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: Persistence of Vision (VOY; J/7, Q; R) 1/2 Date: 31 Jan 2005 20:08:34 -0800 Organization: http://groups.google.com Lines: 402 Message-ID: <1107230914.081009.182880@f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: 205.188.116.130 Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: quoted-printable X-Trace: posting.google.com 1107230918 23832 127.0.0.1 (1 Feb 2005 04:08:38 GMT) X-Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 1 Feb 2005 04:08:38 +0000 (UTC) User-Agent: G2/0.2 Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com Injection-Info: f14g2000cwb.googlegroups.com; posting-host=205.188.116.130; posting-account=KBGBhwwAAACUvsTPI6cdDbjysNWaqCeV Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:162199 X-Received-Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2005 20:08:38 PST (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: Persistence of Vision Author: Kelly [Chambliss] Email: rather_be_reading @ yahoo.com Website: http://appelsini.tripod.com/Kelly/ Series: VOY Codes: J/7, Q Rating: R Part: 1/2 Posted: January 31, 2005 Archive: ASC(EM); JanewayFest; others please ask Disclaimer: All that is Trek belongs to Paramount. Summary: Not long after Voyager returns to Earth, Q pays a visit to Note: This story is a (late) entry for the JanewayFest (http://geocities.com/janewayfest) To my surprise, it also turned out to be a response to Seema's "It's not always about you" challenge. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Persistence of Vision By Kelly ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Captain Janeway! Kathryn!" The words stopped Seven of Nine in her tracks. She had been striding along a corridor in Starfleet Headquarters, paying little attention to those around her, unless the term "attention" could be given to a mild state of constant irritation with other people's propensity to stop and chat in the middle of the hallway. But now she blocked the hallway herself as she saw that her old captain was only a few meters ahead of her, being greeted by an admiral. Seven stepped back, out of sight. It wasn't that she didn't want to meet the captain, not exactly, but she had to admit that their recent encounters had made her uncomfortable. The fault was not the captain's; Janeway treated Seven as she always had. The problem, Seven acknowledged, was her own. *She* felt awkward in the captain's presence, for reasons she preferred not to examine too closely. Normally, such imprecision in her thinking would have been unacceptable to her. But now she was having a sexual relationship with Chakotay, and Voyager had been back in the AQ almost one earth month. Nothing was the same. "Admiral Ch'ben," Janeway said to the woman who had called her name. She touched the admiral's arm lightly and would have continued down the corridor, but Ch'ben stopped her. "Kathryn! What's your hurry? And why so formal? You've never called me 'Admiral' like that before." "Perhaps because you weren't an admiral before," the captain replied. "Before I left, I mean. I've been gone a long time, you know." "Who could forget?" asked the admiral. She was tall and dark, of a humanoid species Seven did not recognize. A worried expression marked her narrow, ridged features. "I thought. . .but never mind. It's so good to see you. I. . ." She was about to say more, but suddenly seemed aware that she and her now-famous companion were attracting stares. Ch'ben finished quickly, "Have dinner with me tonight, Kathryn." "I'm sorry," Janeway began. But the admiral interrupted. "Don't brush me off. You owe me that much at least." "Tholla, please." The captain's voice was quiet; not many people, Seven thought, would have heard the tension in it. "Yes, all right," Janeway said. "Dinner." Seven turned and walked back the way she had come. If anyone had asked why she left just then, she would have said that she didn't care for eavesdropping. But it would not have been the real reason. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Mercy me! It's a blond goddess, and she's all alone. Not a Chuckles in sight." The voice rang out in Seven's quarters later that evening. If the speaker had been hoping to startle her, he was disappointed. She did not even turn from her computer screen. "Q," she observed neutrally. In a flash, the being moved to perch on the corner of her desk. Tilting his head, he looked at her quizzically, saying nothing, his eyes widened in exaggerated inquiry. "What is it?" Seven said at last. She could have continued the juvenile waiting game indefinitely, but it seemed pointless. "Aren't you going to call security, or at least yell 'Intruder alert'?" asked Q. "I have no doubt that you have masked your presence, Q. And in any case, there is no security in my private apartment." "Oh, come now, my lovely. You know as well as I do that Starfleet would never leave its prize heroes unsurveilled. Is that the right spy lingo? Oh, who cares? They'll be listening, never fear. At the very least, you might need to call them to protect you from the tattooed terror." "What do you want, Q?" "To show you the error of your pitiful ways, my sweet, except that it would do no good. Humans never listen." "Then why do you even bother with such 'pitiful' life forms?" "What's this!" Q mimed shock and awe. "Irony from the queen of the literal? You *have* become more human, haven't you? Or is just the effect of living with Chuckles? Where is that pompadored paramour, by the way?" "Out." Q laughed. "Out, indeed! Quite a few of my little Starfleet friends appear to be 'out' this evening. Which is why I have come to take you on a date -- to save you from the boredom of being *in*." "The best way to save me from boredom is to leave me alone, Q. I do not wish to go out, certainly not with you." The being's face hardened briefly, and Seven suddenly found herself gasping for air. "Careful, delectable one," Q said. "If you misuse your breath that way, you're likely to lose it. I tolerate a certain amount of rudeness from people like Jean-Luc and Kathy, because they have other charms. You, however, I do not find quite so appealing. You wouldn't want to make the mistake of forgetting who you're talking to." The constriction in her chest eased. Seven took an experimental deep breath and looked at Q steadily. "You are an alien being. And you are very powerful. I never forget." Q held her eyes. "Good." He flashed away again, and when he returned, it was with the playfulness of old. "Come, come, cara mia," he boomed, appearing behind her chair. "Enough of this poky old place. If Chuckles can go out, so can we. Never let it be said that Q doesn't know how to show a girl a good time." Seven closed her eyes and waited. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The apartment to which Q transported them was similar to Seven's own, meaning that they were in someone's official Starfleet quarters. She asked no questions, knowing that Q would make things clear in his own time. Or he wouldn't. Regardless, quizzing him would do no good. Seven had not been lying when she told Q that she never forgot his otherness or his power. She did not underestimate him, nor did she miss the malice behind his madcap foolery. Whatever he had to show her in this apartment would be for his pleasure and her pain, of that she had no doubt. Q had been wandering around the living room, picking up ornaments and muttering "tacky, tacky" and "oh, please" under his breath. But now he was next to her, his hand gripping her head uncomfortably as he whispered in her ear, "Are we here for my pleasure? Absolutely. But your pain? Well, that remains to be seen." An instant later, he was reclining along the top of a sofa that he had conjured up against the wall, and Seven found herself seated on its cushions. "Comfy?" he asked. "I hope so, because the show's about to begin." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ When the apartment's outer door opened to reveal Captain Janeway and Admiral Tholla Ch'ben, Q smacked Seven's shoulder gleefully. "Surprised, aren't you? Admit it -- for a second there, you thought it was going to be Chuckles, didn't you? You were afraid I was going to make you watch Studly Boy doing something naughty, like having it off with some young bimbo. As if the Q would be interested in anything that pathetic." Seven opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Q could read her mind; she refused to let him bait her into speaking. Yes, she had thought for a moment that the "show" would involve Chakotay. She realized now, though, what Q apparently already understood: he could never hurt her with Chakotay the way he could hurt her with the captain. "Will you stop?" Q demanded. "Believe me, if I wanted to hurt you, I could think of more fun ways than just letting you listen in on other people's conversations. I've brought you here for your own good." His voice was so loud that Seven instinctively glanced toward Janeway and her companion, but Q snorted. "Do me the favor of realizing that I have everything under control," he said. "They can't see or hear us, of course. Now shut up and pay attention." The admiral had called for lights, and in their dim glow, Seven watched the captain choose a straight-backed chair that sat by itself, out of the light. She wasn't in uniform, but her dark, long-sleeved dress was as impersonal as any Starfleet tunic. Closing her eyes, she stretched her feet forward. Only then did Seven notice the high-heeled black boots, tightly laced. "Coffee?" called the admiral from the kitchen unit. Janeway opened her eyes and smiled. "Of course." "What would you like in it?" "Preferably something non-synthaholic." Ch'ben laughed. "Sounds as if you picked up some bad habits in the DQ." "A few," Janeway responded. But she was no longer smiling. The admiral entered carrying two cups. Unlike the captain, she was dressed for a night on the town, in a close-fitting red sheath. She paused when she saw where Janeway was sitting, but handed her a mug without comment and then moved to a small couch. "I'm so glad I ran into you today, Kathryn. I've been trying to get in touch with you ever since you got back. Didn't you get my messages?" "The debriefings have kept me pretty busy," said the captain, not answering the question. She drank deeply from her mug. "Is that all finished?" Ch'ben asked. "The debriefings, I mean? Surely the brass have wrung you dry in terms of information by now." She spoke lightly, but her choice of image was unfortunate; the words seemed to hang in the air. "My, my, ma petite. Is it just me, or are there some undercurrents swirling around this room?" Q hopped down to sit next to Seven. "Candy?" he offered, holding out a bag. Seven ignored him. "I'm sorry," the admiral was saying. "That sounded grim, didn't it? I just meant. . ." "I know; it's all right," the captain said. "Yes, the meetings are almost over. Only one more week of interviews scheduled." "That's good." "I suppose." A silence stretched between them. Ch'ben shifted on the couch and twisted the hem of her dress. "Dinner was nice, wasn't it?" she said finally. "Were you surprised to find Bella's Caf=E9 still here?" Janeway smiled wryly. "Part of me was surprised to find Earth still here." "Everything must seem so different to you. . . ." The admiral's voice trailed off. "But it isn't, you know, Kathryn. Yes, a lot has changed, but a lot of things have stayed the same. Important things." "*We* aren't the same, Tholla." "Not exactly, no. But we're still. . .we could. . ." She leaned forward, irritated. "Damn it, Kathryn, will you come sit over here? I don't want to talk to a shadow." Ch'ben paused, breathing deeply. When she spoke again, her anger was gone. "Sit with me. Please." "Tholla, I. . .this isn't a good idea. Too much has happened. We aren't the people we were. It's been too long; it would be a mistake to try to go back." Janeway stood. "I should go." She turned toward the door, but Ch'ben was across the room before she could leave. "Kathryn," the admiral said, catching Janeway by the shoulders. "Don't." She pulled the captain into her arms, kissing her gently. Janeway stiffened but then relaxed into the embrace, returning the kiss softly at first, then more intensely. "Q," Seven said. "Remove us at once. I do not want to watch this." Q chuckled without smiling. "Lie to yourself if you want to, but don't try to lie to me. This is exactly what you want to see. It's practically your own fantasy come to life. Isn't this how you used to imagine it? Pulling the captain to you, kissing her, making her like it?" He smirked and went on. "Then you'd imagine her naked and yourself on top of her, your fingers in her. . ." "Stop!" Seven shut her eyes and pressed her hands over her ears, knowing it was childish, but needing to shut out that relentless voice, shut out the picture of the captain holding Ch'ben. Her chest felt constricted again, but she didn't think Q had anything to do with it this time. What made her feel worst was that he was right -- even as she closed her eyes, part of her *did* want to watch. "Oh, gol durn it," said Q loudly, back to playing the jovial buffoon. "You can come out now, Goldilocks. Doesn't look like anyone's going to be getting any here tonight." Seven raised her head and saw Janeway disengage herself from the admiral's arms. "I'm sorry, Tholla," she said. "It's too much, I don't. . ." She broke off, shaking her head and smiling slightly. "God, what you do to me." "I can do a lot more," Ch'ben said, drawing Kathryn toward her again. "Stay with me tonight." "Time out!" said Q brightly. Both women were suddenly motionless, frozen in Q's time-stopped tableau. "What do you say to a little wager, lovey mine? What'll it be--the lady or the tiger? That is to say, will she stay, or will she go?" "You do not need to continue this encounter, Q. You've made your point." "Oh? And what point is that?" "That I've been lying to myself about the captain, about Chakotay. And if you wanted to humiliate me, you have accomplished that as well." Q gave an exaggerated sigh of exasperation. "Believe it or not, Seven of Nine, it's not always about you. There are more interesting things at stake here than your wretched little affairs." Not for the first time, Seven wished she could still make use of her assimilation tubules. Then she could simply link to this infuriating being's mind and avoid this ridiculous guessing game. Instead, she would have to play by his rules, and right now, he seemed to want her to press him. So she asked, "What sort of things?" Q made a show of unwrapping another piece of candy. "Oh, like for instance, the fact that they're going to make an example of her." "I do not understand." Q sighed again. "An example. As in 'a sacrifice.' I see I will have to spell it out: Starfleet plans to charge your captain with violating just about every Fleet regulation going -- everything from gross malfeasance to conduct unbecoming to attempted murder." "But why?" "Why? Because the Federation is taking a lot of heat about certain aspects of this Dominion War. There have been acts that some people -- small-thinking, literal-minded people, of course -- are interpreting as major violations of interplanetary war ethics." "But what does that have to do with the captain? She was not involved in the Dominion War. People are calling her a hero." "You're not very bright, are you, Blondie?" asked Q. "It's *because* she wasn't involved in the Dominion War, and *because* people are calling her a hero, that she makes the best scapegoat. If they walk a hard line with someone like her, Starfleet will be showing that it takes ethical violations seriously and doesn't play favorites. But they won't actually have to admit any wrongdoing of their own." "But people will see through such a ploy. . ." "Oh, be your age. And stop saying 'but.' You were Borg, for pity's sake, and you still don't understand a thing about power. Yes, there will be objections, but they'll be no more than gnats to the Federation. When you're the ones in charge, you get to say which ethics count and which don't." He began to pick his teeth with the candy paper. "Of course, it helps that your beloved captain is guilty as hell. Not that I don't admire her for it; she's got what it takes. But still, think of all the high-sounding platitudes the Fleet will be able to spout. It's the perfect solution for them, really. You lower species can sometimes be very clever." Seven felt anxiety flood her, and after a second, anger. She was furious with Starfleet, with Q, and with how often, since Voyager's return, she found herself feeling helpless and inadequate. She turned on Q, not caring whether she upset him. "From my perspective, *you* are the lower species. You are always bragging of your omnipotence. Why do you not do something to help her instead of sitting there sneering?" Q just laughed. "Ooh. You're so cute when you're a spitfire." Seven forced herself to concentrate on assisting Janeway. "Does the captain know she is to be charged?" "Let's find out, shall we? Hmmmm?" said Q. He snapped his fingers toward Janeway and Admiral Ch'ben. End Part 1 of 2 NewMessage: