textfiles/sex/EROTICA/O/ohcaptain.txt

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Part I)
     -- Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     The spiral scarlet beam of light hesitated at the door to Picard's
quarters.  She had had no trouble moving past the sensors; they simply
weren't made to detect her.  She was a shape-shifter from deep within the
Beta quadrant -- but she  had other blood, blood she generally hated to
acknowledge.  Ztlaf was half-Q.

	       ***       ***       ***

     Picard saw the light, shimmery, intense.  He tried to look away from it. 
He tried to wake up; the light hurt.  Ztlaf saw his discomfort and changed,
instantaneously, into a white mare.  She whinnied softly at him, nuzzling his
chest.  He breathed a sigh inwardly; this wasn't a nightmare.  (Actually, it
was a night mare.)  He looked about for a saddle.  There was none.  He heard
a soft, feminine voice whisper in his mind, "Ride me.  Ride me till morning." 
He became aware suddenly of an erection beginning; he cleared his throat and
looked away from the horse.  Maybe he should take advantage of that shore
leave Troi told him to take.

     The horse whinnied again.  With sheer force of will, Picard quelled his
erection and mounted the horse.  Ztlaf knew she could make him hard with her
mind, but she didn't want it that way.  She had watched him now for weeks --
listened to his voice, seen him commanding his ship.  He was respected and
loved.  He was the most noble of the creatures she had yet to encounter.  She
knew it was the Q in her that wanted to possess him, to take away his
control, to confront him with the fantasies he pushed away and refused to
acknowledge even on the holo-deck.  This time, she didn't fight it; she
didn't care.  She wanted him, and she would be there for him every night,
when he slept.

     Picard was amazed at the silkiness of the horse's body; when he had
looked at her, she had seemed to be looking right back, not the way a horse
would, but . . .  The idea of shore leave presented itself again; he was
having an awfully bizarre dream.  Maybe he should stop eating the Klingon
delicacies Worf treated him to once a week.  He began with a slow trot, but
the feel of it was wrong -- the horse's back seemed to be swallowing him into
it, moving back and forth, rather than up and down.  It was so strange,
peculiar -- erotic.  Yes; this dream horse was moving to arouse him. 
Clearly, that was its purpose.  The moment he realized this, he moved to jump
off, and suddenly found himself flat on his back in his bunk.  He was naked;
he could feel the mattress underneath him.  There was weight on top; he
started.  He was being clutched in the arms of a young woman.  He felt her
breasts digging into his chest; he was inside her, and she was sitting there,
working her vaginal muscles around his penis.  He tried desperately to wake
up.  He couldn't.  he tried to reach for his dream comm badge, thinking he
could extricate himself by calling in a dream security officer.  But no, his
comm badge was not there.  

     "Why do you resist the erotic, the primitive, the animal side of
yourself, Jean-Luc?"  He tried to push the woman off of him, but his fingers,
his hands seemed to have no force at all.  He rolled onto his stomach, and --
now she was below him, he inside her.  He realized suddenly he was breathing
heavily, sweating slightly.  His penis ached for her; he could not stop
moving within her.  Her arms wrapped around him like a vice, she took his
right ear in her mouth, nibbling playfully around it, flicking her tongue
inside and out.  He was feeling a part of himself he hadn't acknowledged
since his early days at the Academy.  He was burning for this woman; even
though already inside her, he wanted to go deeper, faster.  He wanted more,
and more, and . . .  

     Suddenly, at the point where he knew he could not last another second,
she tightened around him, her breath heaving and hot on his neck.  Her
fingernails dug painfully and wonderfully into his back.  He had never felt
a woman so hungry, so . . .  

     Suddenly, he felt himself come, his body shaking with every spurt.  He
became alarmed when he realized he was awake, and Commander Data stood beside
his bunk.

     "Sir?  Captain, are you ill?"

     Picard realized suddenly that his orgasm had not only been intense and
earth-moving, but vocal as well.  

     "Sir?  You're face and neck -- they are quite red.  Are you ill, sir? 
You were making . . . the oddest noises.  You sounded rather similar to Tasha
when . . . "

     "That is quite enough, Commander; I'm fine," Picard shouted.  His blush
had already vanished; he was shaking, however.  "I'm sorry, Mr. Data," Picard
said quietly.  "It's been -- a rough night."
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Part II)
     -- Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com


     Picard was strangely quiet.  He had barely touched breakfast.  
     "Data tells me you had a rough night." Dr. Crusher said tentatively. 
"You're awfully quiet, Jean-Luc.  Are you all right?"

     "Fine, fine," Picard muttered.  He could not look at her.  His hands
were shaking slightly.  He had the feeling that at any moment, an erection
might present itself, unbidden, as they so often did when he was younger.  He
had been careful to sit so that she wouldn't notice it that happened.  He was
very disturbed with his dream of the night before.

     "Captain?" Picard started.  "Jean-Luc, you look . . . "

     "What?  How do I look, Doctor?" Picard barked.  Crusher's head snapped
up, surprised.  "Sorry, Beverly," he whispered.  "I am feeling, perhaps, a
little tired."

     Dr. Crusher produced her tricorder. "No!" Picard got up.  "I am not ill! 
I'm just tired!"

     "All right, Captain," Crusher said quietly.  "I'll leave you then, and
allow you to get some obviously much-needed rest."  She turned and left
abruptly.

     Picard stared after her, feeling ashamed.  Perhaps he was sick; maybe he
should have had her check.  But he was strangely embarrassed, something he
had never felt with her before.  Well, maybe, a few times.  What could that
damn tricorder tell her about sexual arousal?

	       ***            ***       ***

     "Captain, Dr. Crusher asked me to look in on you," Troi said, standing
in front of him.  "She says you were a bit moody this morning, quite out of
character."

     Troi was absolutely the last person he wanted to see.  He felt a nagging
suspicion.

     "Counselor, you just lied to me," he said.  "You are here because you
felt it necessary to talk to me."

     Troi sat down.  "All right, Captain.  Yes, I'm a bit concerned."

     For the second time in less than twelve hours, Picard blushed.

     "Captain, the feelings you're experiencing are not unusual, shameful or
anything to be concerned over," Troi stated directly.  "You are being too
hard on yourself."

     "Indeed," Picard said, smiling beside himself.  Troi smiled.

     "Captain, permission to speak frankly?"

     "Go ahead, Counselor." He looked away.

     "You have always been -- rather restrained -- when it came to such
feelings.  You continually deny yourself the luxury of indulging them, even
sometimes."

     "I indulged them enough, Counselor, a long, irreverent time ago," Picard
stated.  Troi noticed he was fidgeting.

     "Captain, I'm not trying to embarrass you.  I just think you should
recognize that you are no more or less human than the rest of us  In fact,"
she added, "even the nonhuman among us take the liberty of experiencing . .
. "

     "Enough, Counselor," Picard interrupted.  "I  am in no state of mind to
discuss this with you, especially you."

     "Perhaps you might confide in Commander Riker, then?" She got up to
leave.

     "Counselor, he is the last person I would confide in about such things."

     "Why?" she asked, smiling.  "Because he would agree with me?"

     "Undoubtedly," Picard said, smiling in spite of himself.

     After Troi left, Picard sat on the side of his bunk, trying to figure
out what to do.  He knew that they had a few days to go before arriving at
Starbase 152 to pick up supplies and some crew who were ending their shore
leave.  He decided to take a nap.



     Ztlaf emerged from the wall of the captain's quarters nearest his bunk. 
She showed herself to his sleeping mind as the scarlet light again.  "No! not
again!  Leave me alone!"  His dream hand came up quickly across his eyes.

     "Captain, you are honestly acting more immature than the young man you
are trying to avoid acknowledging." Ztlaf laughed.  It was like the sound of
small silver bells ringing in the early morning.

     "Perhaps you would prefer this form."  She became Carmala, the metamorph
from two years ago.

     "Carmala," he murmured.  "Hello, Captain," she said, coming towards him. 
She touched his face lightly, placing her other hand atop his head, as she
had done that night long ago.

     "I have always stayed in your mind, a little part of me.  You need me
now.  So I am here."

     Picard was confused.  Was this really Carmala; was she capable of
sending herself into his mind from light-years away?  He snapped out of it. 
What was this crazy stuff he was thinking?

     Carmala laughed.  It wasn't Carmala; it was not her laughter.

     "Captain, it little matters.  I can be whatever you want, whoever you
want."

     "I suppose next you'll tell me you're the devil and have a contract with
some impressionable, defenseless society," Picard snapped.

     "No, Captain.  I am not she.  I have the power to transform; real
power."

     An immediate, panicked thought. "Q?  Is this some sick game designed to
test me again?  If it is --"

     "Not exactly, Jean-Luc," Q's voice said.  "I am not Q, at least not the
Q of whom you are talking.  But I can appear to be.  I am half-Q.  I am not
allowed in the Continuum, because I am damaged.  I am the result of a
disgraceful coupling, according to the Continuum.  I am on my own.  A shape-
shifter with Q abilities.  Partial abilities, of course."

     Picard drew a breath.  Carmala's voice came back.  "You have not been
honest with yourself for a long time, Captain," she said, and Picard found
her in his lap.  "You have denied yourself -- and others, a wonderful side of
you."  She placed her arms around him, leaning her head on his left shoulder. 
"Make love to me, Jean-Luc."  He tried to fling her away, to stand up.  Her
smell was intoxicating; her lips suddenly pressed against his.  He felt the
electrical rush of desire, the hot tingle in his fingertips, in his thighs,
in his groin.  His heart pounded in his head.  "Make love to me," she said
again, close to his ear.  He remembered the mouth of the young woman of the
night before, nibbling at his ear, and in a second, his erection bulged
against his uniform.  As soon as he thought it, Carmala's lips enveloped his
ear, her warm tongue trailing it slowly, sensually.  His uniform seemed to
melt off.  He was standing, holding her, her legs dangling, her arms around
his neck, her mouth to his ear.  He felt weak, and without really thinking
about it sat on his bunk and then lay down.  He was still holding Carmala-Q-
whoever.  He struggled momentarily with his desire.  He studied it for a few
seconds.  It was hot, needy and strong.  He felt it everywhere.  Suddenly, he
made a decision, and rolled onto his right side.  He removed his right arm
from beneath her and pulled the tunic-like garment she wore off one shoulder. 
He saw her smile; no, he felt it.  It was inviting him, imploring him.

     Ztlaf was pleased.  She had had to do very little persuading, and hadn't
used her mind to do any at all.  He was more passionate than she had
realized.  How could a man allow such fire to lie dormant for so long?  He
was kissing her now.  Gently, hesitantly.  She opened her mouth to him, and
they kissed passionately, their tongues in a writhing, electric-hot dance. 
She enjoyed the feel of the heat pouring from him, his wild, still slightly
wary scent.  She reached down and took his erection in her hand, and began
massaging it with a light, teasing touch.  She noticed with delight that his
eyes were half-closed and that he was clearly no longer in the mood to
resist.

     She began kissing him slowly down his body -- his neck, his chest.  She
stopped at his nipples to take each one in her mouth and tease it with her
tongue and teeth.  She lingered over one of them, and before progressing
further, bit quickly.  His breath caught; he hadn't expected that.  She
quickly slid her tongue gently over the nipple, soothing the sting.  She
began her trip downwards again, flicking her tongue in and out of his navel. 
She breathed softly on him; her mouth and breath were hot and extremely
stimulating.  Her lips brushed each upper thigh briefly, and she bowed her
head to take his penis in her mouth.  He flinched and pulled her head back up
to kiss her.

     "Jean-Luc, honestly," she whispered in his mind, "You're such a
puritan."  She went back down and closed her lips around him.  He stiffened -
- everywhere else, that is.  She took him into her mouth, holding him there,
not moving her head, allowing him to get used to it, to like it, to accept
it.  When she felt his muscles relax and his hands begin to touch her
sensually again, she began a gentle suction with her lips while applying her
tongue with alternately soft and strong licks.  She raised her head, then
dropped it to his balls, taking both in her mouth.  Her hand encircled his
cock, well-lathered with her saliva.  She stroked him vigorously, feeling him
building to a climax.  

     She was startled when he suddenly flipped her onto her stomach.  He lay
atop her, and pushed inside her.  She was wet, so wet.  When he reached below
her for her clitoris, she understood why he had chosen this particular
position.  He moved his fingers rhythmically about her clit.  Her back
arched, and an erotic, pleasure-filled growl escaped her.  She gripped the
mattress with her teeth -- when she had transformed, she had left herself
open to everything a human woman would feel -- or for that matter a
metamorph.  Her breath gasped from her, she felt his lips on the back of her
neck, his tongue tickling her.  He gripped her right ear in his mouth.  She
had never felt so good, though she had the power to give herself pleasures no
one could dare to dream about, except those who were Q.  She felt him place
his hands beneath her, gripping her.  He began to fuck her with abandon,
fast, hard plunges deep inside her.  With a cry, he poured himself into her,
his body tensing everywhere.  She felt the spasmodic rush of semen, and
turned and lowered her head to grab one of his fingers in her mouth.  She
sucked on it as he came.

     After, they lay together, enfolded in one another's arms.  "You at least
haven't forgotten anything, Jean-Luc," she whispered.  "I'll be back."

     "When?" he asked, startled from his tired afterglow.

     "When you want me, or when you sleep again," she answered.  "Whichever
comes first."
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Part III)
     -- Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     Picard lay on his bunk, feeling blissfully exhausted.  He asked the
computer for the time, and rose to start a log entry.  Distracted, he decided
he didn't want any record of the recent goings-on anywhere except in his
mind.  He turned to the replicator and murmured, "Tea.  Earl Grey.  Hot."  He
sipped at the steaming cup of tea, put it down and began pacing his quarters. 
Was there an actual being invading his dreams?  Or was he actually making
love to an alien while he slept?  Perhaps his own mind had created her -- it. 
He tried to remember each little detail, not so much for pleasure's sake as
for figuring out what the hell was happening.  "Computer," he said, "Is there
any -- anomaly or presence on the ship which has not been investigated or
accounted for in the last fifteen hours?"  

     "Negative," answered the computer.  He picked up his comm badge. 
"Captain to Worf."  "Yes, sir?" the deep, resonant voice, assuring and ready
to act, filled the room.  "Mr. Worf, have you investigated any reports of an
alien presence -- a possible alien presence -- on the ship?"  

     "No, sir."  "Thank you, Mr. Worf."  "Is there something I should be
looking into, Captain?" Worf asked.  "No, Lieutenant.  Nothing serious."

     Picard retrieved his cup of tea and thought that he should ask Troi to
be here the next time he slept.  He knew that she was aware of his feelings
anyway.  She would be able to tell him what happened while he slept.  Did she
sense anything?  Did he move at all?  The thought made him blush.  But he had
to know; this might eventually be a situation which would affect the whole
ship.  

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Counselor, I don't want you to wake me," he said,  "No matter what I --
do, or say."

     "Relax, Captain," Troi said quietly, careful not to look at him; he did
not want her to look at him right now.  "I will say nothing to you except
what you need to know for the benefit of the ENTERPRISE."

     Picard had asked Dr. Crusher for a mild sedative.  Even so, he had
trouble falling asleep.  Troi read quietly by the door, eyes lowered,
seemingly unaware of him.  

     Ztlaf appeared above him, the brilliant scarlet form.  "Captain, I will
not perform for your ship shrink," she snapped.  "She can neither see me nor
sense me right now, and she will only do so if I will it."

     "I thought you said your powers were partial," said Picard wordlessly. 
"I did, and that is the truth," Ztlaf said.  "I cannot take you outside the
ship and keep you alive.  I cannot take anyone off this ship, nor can I
injure or harm someone in any way."

     "Has it occurred to you that you might be harming me indirectly?  By
making me question my sanity, my ability to command this ship?  Questioning
my own perceptions?"

     Ztlaf appeared at the foot of his bed.  "Hello, Troi," she said.  "Your
captain wishes you to validate my presence."

     "Consider yourself validated," said Troi.  She studied the young woman. 
"Is this your usual form?"

     "No, this is," and the intense light came back, this time visible to
Troi.   "I have been Carmala for the Captain, and I would be anything he
wants me to be . . . "

     "That's uh, enough," he said.  "By the way, what are you called?"

     Troi looked at him levelly.  "This is an interesting time to ask THAT
question."

     "Counselor, I thought you were here to observe."

     "Yes, and I believe I just observed something about you, Captain." 
Picard was preparing to snap at her when he saw her attempt to hide a grin. 
Suddenly, Ztlaf changed into Commander Riker.  "Leave us," he said, wrapping
his arms around Troi.  "The captain and I have business to discuss."

     "I want to get something straight right now, -- what is your name, damn
it?"

     "Ztlaf," the alien said, changing back into the young woman of a few
moments before.  

     "You are not to appear, to me or to anyone, as a member of my crew.  Nor
are you to play tricks on any of the civilians aboard this ship!"

     "No problem at all, Jean-Luc.  You see, I don't plan on leaving your
quarters."

     "I'll be going," Troi said.  "Either both of us are crazy, Captain, or
you've found an apparently able playmate."  He heard her laugh softly as she
left.

     "Why did you appear?" he asked her.  "Because you were upset; you wanted
to know if I am real," Ztlaf answered.

     "I don't understand what you want from me," he said.

     "I thought I'd made that crystal clear, Captain," she smiled.  Her
green-blue eyes twinkled.  He watched her mouth curl into a delicious smile,
and he felt himself beginning to warm and tingle. 

     "Is that all you want?" he asked.

     "Would you like me to want more, Jean-Luc?"  She was clearly teasing
him; he smiled thinly.

     "I don't know quite what to make of any of this.  Why me?"

     "Let's just say that you've proven yourself worthy.  There, now, if that
doesn't convince you that I'm part Q, I don't know what will."

     Picard smiled broadly now.  "You know, I haven't gotten any work done
today," he said.  "It's a good thing nothing pressing needs attending."

     "Are you sure about that?" Ztlaf asked, walking toward him, very slowly. 
"Ztlaf, you won't interfere if I need to attend to anything?  You're not
planning on sabotaging my command, are you?"

     "Captain, would I tell you if I were?"  She was still about half an
arm's length from him.

     "As we speak, Troi is making a log entry about today's encounter.  If
anything untoward happens, she'll come to your rescue."

     Picard waited for her.  For the first time, he looked her straight in
the eyes.  They stood like that for several long seconds.

     "You actually . . . "  He stopped; he wasn't used to conversation like
this.  "You actually WANT me.  Really want me. Why?"

     "I thought I eluded you with a quick answer before, Jean-Luc," Ztlaf
said.  "Let's save that for another day."

     The next thing he knew, he was in her arms, floating over his bunk. 
"I'm not even asleep," he said.  "You don't have to be asleep, Jean-Luc," she
said.  "By the way, we did make love."

     He decided this wasn't the time to question how that was possible. 
Besides, he was suspended rather comfortably in the air, floating with her. 
She smiled, and he saw her teeth turn into scissor-sharp fangs.  She slashed
his uniform with a swipe of her head.  He flinched.  But her teeth were
normal again.

     "I'll restore your uniform, later," she said.  Picard wasn't even
thinking of the uniform; it could be replicated.  He was wondering exactly
what else she had in mind.

     Picard made the first move this time.  He brushed hair out of her eyes
and began kissing her, slow, deep, gentle kisses.  Everything seemed to slow
down and take on a superbly sensual quality.  They still floated about the
bunk, locked onto one another.  Ztlaf tasted him and wanted more.  She wished
she could enter his mind completely, and fill herself with his desire.  She
wanted to bury herself in his yearnings and his pleasure.  She slipped a hand
between his thighs and found that she did not have anything to do.  But that
was no reason not to do something anyway.  She left him in the air, and she
stood on the floor, her head a bit below his feet.  Picard found himself
being lowered by nothing at all, and his penis was in Ztlaf's mouth.  Picard
reached down and grabbed at her shoulders, gripping her.  Hanging in the air
like this while she did this, it was too much, it was so terribly, painfully
wonderful.  He was aghast at his lack of control.  But Ztlaf did not seem to
mind; she swallowed every drop, then licked his cock until it was free of all
ejaculate.  She smiled up at him; his eyes were closed.  "Sorry," he said. 
"It's been a long time since I--"

     "Since you got a blow job?" she said, laughing.  He flinched.  "Do you
have to be so -- indelicate, Ztlaf?"

     "Oh, Jean-Luc, you were never afraid to call it what it was when --"

     "That was a long time ago." he said.

     "So?  It still feels just as good, doesn't it?"  She grabbed him and
pulled him down to the floor.  Picard suddenly felt as if he were confined,
paralyzed.  "What are you doing to me?" He tried to move, and could not.

     "Relax," she said, kissing his throat.  She ran her tongue along his
throat, down and took his right nipple in her mouth.  She began sucking, and
he felt his erection coming back.  As soon as it was at full mast, Ztlaf slid
onto him, thrusting herself back and forth, his nipple still in her mouth. 
He still couldn't move.  "Ztlaf, what have you done to me?"

     "Nothing irreversible, Jean-Luc," she said.  "Relax."  She fucked him,
fast, hard.  She seemed to be in contact with only his penis and his nipple. 
Then, she jumped off and was suddenly naked.  It hit him then.  For some
reason, she had never looked naked.  He stared at her breasts, and her
peaches-and-cream complexion.  He tried to reach for her, then remembered he
was immobile.  "Say please, and I'll release you, Jean-Luc," she teased.  "I
don't like this particularly," he said.  "I've been in some situations that,
that were not very pleasant, and I feel very vulnerable like this."  She
sensed his discomfort, sharp and painful.  She immediately released him.

     "You can feel what i'm feeling?" he asked.  "Not just in the sense of
information, but feeling?"

     "Yes," she whispered.  "I'm sorry; I forgot about --"

     "Shhh," he said.  He touched her face lightly.  He saw, to his amazement
that she had tears in her eyes.  "Jean-Luc," she said, burying her face in
his neck.  "I should have remembered.  I'm so, so sorry."

     "Stop it, Ztlaf," he said quietly, but firmly.  "That's over now.  I
just didn't feel like being reminded, in any way, that's all.  It's past. 
Forget it."

	  She looked at him.  "Perhaps I should let you be alone for a time. 
Maybe I shouldn't be here at all.  Maybe I will hurt you, unthinkingly,
unaware."

     "Don't," Picard said.  Suddenly, the idea of her leaving was monstrously
wrong.  "No; don't do that.  You can't come into my life the way you did, and
then just leave because you're afraid of hurting me.  How much do you know
about my species?  We are most vulnerable when we are most happy."

     "Do I make you happy, Jean-Luc?"

     "Ztlaf, how can you so easily forget our brief past in favor of one tiny
mistake?"

     She smiled.  He picked her up and carried her to the bunk.  She decided
that there would be no tricks, no theatrics.  She was going to let him do
everything tonight.

	  He held her against him, wiping her tears with his hand.  She
pressed her body against him.  They lay there, listening to each other's
breath.  He began running his hands down her body.  He cupped her right
breast in his hand, massaging it gently.  She let out what might be
classified as a purr, were she a cat.  He slid his other hand down between
her thighs.  He leaned over her and began kissing her, deeply and
passionately.  Her arms went around him.  They made low animal noises as they
ground against each other.  His fingers found her and lunged inside.  He
drove them in and out, and she writhed all over the mattress.  She squeezed
her thighs around his arm, thrusting herself onto his hand, trying to help
him deeper inside her.  She felt her clitoris aflame with anticipation.  She
dove between his legs, hungrily seeking his testicles.  He held her tightly,
forcing her down on her back.  He grabbed one of her legs and shoved himself
between them.  She hungrily enveloped him, licking with hard, frantic
strokes.  His mouth sought her hot, enlarged clitoris.  She let out a cry as
he found it, and she gripped his buttocks in her hands as she took his entire
penis in her mouth.  She sucked him savagely, her tongue dancing all over
him.  At the same time, he licked her and drove his fingers into her.  He
brought her to the brink of orgasm, then suddenly, he stopped.  She didn't
realize this was so for about half a minute.  Then, she looked at him
questioningly.  "Say, please," he said.  As they both laughed, he grabbed her
ass in his hands and shoved her closer.  He looked up at her.  She looked
right back.  He kept his eyes on her face as he pulled her so that her legs
dangled over the side of the bunk.  As he went down on her, he saw the hungry
look in her eyes, and felt her tremble with anticipation.  She gasped, on
fire with pleasure, as he began to fuck her with his tongue.
		   OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (PT. 4)


	  Copyright (c) 1994, Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "Beverly, may I talk with you about Captain Picard?" 

     Counselor Troi was dressed in a tight exercise leotard.  Dr.
Crusher turned from studying her calisthenics program menu.  

     "Why?  Is something wrong?  He has been acting awfully distant
lately.  But it's not distance really.  It's more like -- he's unsure
around me.  As if he has something to hide."

     "Well," Troi said.  "I wouldn't dwell on it too much.  I think he
probably just needs a little shore leave."

     "You know something," Crusher said, walking over to look closely at
Troi.  "You had a talk with him."

     "Now, Beverly, are you trying to home in on my turf?" Troi teased. 
But she averted her eyes.

     "Now, I know you're lying, or concealing.  Is Jean ... -- the
Captain all right?"

     "He's fine, Beverly, really."

     "Then what is it, Deanna?"

     "I think this is something you will have to discuss with him."

     Troi began stretching out on the holo-deck mat.

     "Computer," she said, "run Troi, program 7."

     "Deanna?" 

     "Beverly, please," Troi begged.  "I can't talk about this with you. 
I don't want to say this to hurt you, but if he hasn't told you what it
is, he doesn't want you to know."

     Crusher winced.  She left the holo-deck, and nearly bumped into
Data.

     "Data.  I'm sorry; I'm a little distracted."

     "Can I help, Doctor?"

     "No, Data.  Only the Captain can help."

     "I have not been informed of any serious problems or conflicts on
the Enterprise, Doctor.  I believe I would have been informed if there
were such a grave problem.  Are you sure you want to bother the Captain
with --"

     "Data," Dr. Crusher said, "this type of problem has nothing to do
with the ship."

     Data looked at her, considering.  

     "Ah, I understand, Doctor."

     "Good."  Crusher turned and walked away.

     "Doctor?" Data called.

     "What, Data?" Crusher asked, a little shortly.

     "Good luck.  Is not that appropriate?"

     Crusher had to laugh.

	  ***       ***       ***

     "Come."  Beverly entered the captain's quarters.  He was smiling
broadly when she entered, but as their eyes met, he quickly grew
reserved, his face closing.

     "Jean-Luc," she said, diving in.  "What the hell is wrong with you? 
We no longer have breakfast; you rarely look at me, let alone say hello
to me when we cross paths.  I figured you were busy, preoccupied with
something you couldn't tell me.  But I know Troi well enough to know
that she knows something I don't."

     Picard sighed.  He began to pace.  He looked at her, then quickly
looked away.

     "Beverly."  He sat down and motioned for her to sit across from
him.  She walked slowly, feeling a terrible dread for which there was no
explanation.

     "We have to talk, Beverly," he said.  She struggled to calm
herself.

     "What about?"

     "My recent behavior.  And -- the reasons for it."

     "I'm listening."

     "Beverly, a while back we agreed - we agreed that although we are
obviously attracted to one another, and that each of us would no doubt
derive great benefits from a more - intimate relationship . . . "

     "Yes, Jean-Luc.  Just get it over with.  Please."

     "Beverly, I don't want to hurt you.  Please, don't be like that."

     "Like what?  You told me all the reasons we shouldn't get-
involved.  They were good reasons.  They made sense.  Are you going to
tell me now that you and Troi --"

     "Oh, no! No!"  

     Picard got up and walked over to her.  

     "That is not what I'm trying to tell you.  Not at all.  Besides,
Mr. Worf has been rather busy in that area."

     She stared at him.  That wasn't something he would say, not even to
her.  He never joked so easily about the relationships of his crew.  He
was changing right before her eyes.  She felt a pang of terrible loss.

     "Beverly? Beverly, are you all right?"

     He lifted her face to look at her.

     "Who is it, then?"  Her lips were trembling slightly, but her eyes
were dry, her face eerily vacant of any emotion.

     "Beverly, please.  Don't do this."

     "Apparently, I'm not the one doing anything, Jean-Luc.  You are!"

     Her voice had traveled up about half an octave; she fought to gain
control.

     "WHO IS IT, DAMN IT?  YOU OWE ME THAT MUCH."

     Picard went back to his chair and sat down.  What was he supposed
to say?  "Beverly, I have a relationship with a nonhuman alien who is
half-Q?"  He couldn't say that.  He had never liked scenarios like this. 
This was never something he had developed a way of dealing with so that
no one got hurt.  He had hurt many like this, he recalled.  But she was
waiting.

     "Beverly," he said, clearing his throat and averting his gaze.  

     "Look at me," she said so quietly he barely heard her.

     "You look at me for this.  I refuse to make this easy for you just
so you can feel better about it, so you can believe that the way you did
it was the noblest way possible!  How could you?  How could you let
whatever you're about to tell me develop to a stage that it obviously
has, and continue, at least for a time, to keep up our usual routine?"

     "Beverly," he said, a bit tightly.  "We never agreed that the
possibility of other relationships was closed to either of us."

     "Other relationships?  No, you're right.  At the very least,
though, I always was aware of what was going on, what the potential was. 
I was always aware of the parameters."

     "Well, I am terribly sorry I didn't ask you for permission," he
said.  There was a stunned silence.  She gaped at him, disbelieving.

     "WHO IS IT?  JUST LET ME KNOW THAT, AND I'LL DROP IT.  Please, do
me that service."

     "Ztlaf, please present yourself," Picard said, sighing.

     "In what form, Jean-Luc?" she asked.

     "My favorite," he answered wordlessly.  

     Ztlaf appeared before Crusher as she had appeared to Picard in
their last encounter -- this was also the form Troi had seen.

     Beverly Crusher looked into the young woman's eyes.  They were very
pretty eyes, green-blue, the type that would look green-gray or dark
blue in -- the dark.  She studied her; she looked nothing like Crusher,
nothing like the other women she knew about.  The woman's hair was
short, medium-brown with traces of red.  She was about Jean-Luc's
height; she had good-sized breasts and long legs.  She had a small nose
and mouth, and a pleasant smile.  But her eyes held something other than
friendliness.  They held sorrow.

     "Don't you DARE pity me, you little --"

     "Beverly!" Picard walked between them.  "She doesn't pity you.  I
don't pity you, and for goodness sake, you should stop feeling sorry for
yourself.  It isn't as though I cheated on you, as if I'd broken some
vow."

     "No, Jean-Luc?  Well that's what it feels like you did." 

     Dr. Crusher stood and backed towards the door, locking eyes with
Ztlaf. 

     "I'm sorry," the woman said.

     "Go to hell!" Beverly cried, and ran through the door.

     ***  ***  ***

     "Deanna, Deanna!"  Dr. Crusher rushed through the holo-deck arch. 

     "Computer!" Troi shouted, seeing Crusher's face. "Quit program!" 

     The holo-deck returned to normal. 

     "Beverly, let's go to my quarters."

     Crusher followed Troi wordlessly to the turbolift.  She was crying
softly, and her obvious efforts to stop seemed to make it worse.  

     "Beverly."  Crusher turned on her.

     "HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?  YOU HELPED HIM MAKE A FOOL OF ME!  SHE
WAS THERE, WHATEVER SHE IS."

     "Ztlaf?" Troi asked.

     "Oh, Deanna, I didn't know you were on a first-name basis."

     "Beverly, stop it!  Would you listen to yourself?"

     They arrived at Troi's quarters.  

     "I know this hurts, and I'm sorry.  I really am.  I know what
you're going through?  This is me, remember?  Do you think I wanted to
be the cause of so much pain?  You've suspected for the past week, ever
since he began making excuses about breakfast.  You saw it coming,
Beverly.  This isn't a time for placing blame.  You have to work through
this."

     "And how do you suggest I do that?  I will never be able to trust
him again, never be able to respect him as I did.  He took so long to
tell me."

     "Beverly, listen to yourself.  You are talking about not being able
to respect a man you've loved and admired for a long time, because he
acted completely true to his character.  You know he handled this the
only way he knew how.  Maybe that's a flaw, and maybe not.  He was never
perfect, and never claimed to be.  He was always honest with you."

     "Until now!"

     "He was honest with you, Beverly.  That's why you're so upset.  A
lie would have been better, because you wouldn't feel this way.  But
then, your security would have been false."

     "Why are you saying these things, when you know what I'm feeling? 
This agony that is so strong I feel as if it could choke me."

     "Because you need to hear it, and because if you don't eventually -
- not right away, eventually -- work this into your mind, you'll never
get over this."

     Troi walked over to Crusher and wrapped her arms around the
trembling, weeping doctor.  Crusher sobbed into Troi's neck, and
Deanna's face showed Crusher's pain.  She attempted to stop the tears
which came to her own eyes.  But she could not.  She clutched Beverly in
her arms, rocking her slightly.  

     "Deanna," Crusher moaned, "How can I look at him in the same way? 
Tell me, Deanna!  How?!"

     "It won't happen for a while, Beverly.  But you will."

     Troi went to the replicator after seating Crusher gently on the
edge of the bunk. 

     "Hot chocolate," she said.  "not that it'll help."

     "Do you want anything, Beverly?"  She turned and saw Dr. Crusher
staring blank-faced at the computer.

     "No. No."  She leaned back wearily on the mattress, closing her
eyes.  

     Troi brought her hot chocolate back to the bunk and sat beside
Crusher, stroking her face gently.

     "Take a nap, Beverly," she said softly.  "It will still hurt when
you wake up, but not nearly as much."

     Crusher called a medic to bring her a mild sedative.  After it was
administered, she slipped into a troubled doze.

     "Well, I'm feeling awfully tired suddenly myself," Troi thought. 
"I'm absolutely bone-weary."

     She asked the computer for a shower and stepped into the field when
she had negotiated the temperature with the computer.  Afterwards, she
lay beside Crusher and slipped into a fitful doze.

	  ***       ***       ***

     Ztlaf was restless and unhappy.  She had known about this strange,
largely nonphysical relationship; she had read all about it in Picard's
thoughts.  She could not reach everything within him, only the strong
impressions.  She understood that on some level, he had been able to
hurt the doctor because of his relationship with Ztlaf.  She felt the
discord within her; she wasn't supposed to hurt others; the Q Continuum
had sought her out and made sure they had wired her powers such that
negative actions on her part would make her violently ill and send a
warning signal to the Continuum.  She had to right this situation, or
she would be killed.  Worse than that, she might be condemned to a
lonely exile without Jean-Luc Picard.

	  ***       ***       ***

     Deanna Troi woke with a start.

     "Deanna," Crusher said, smiling.  "I don't know what to make of
this, but I feel wonderful.  I had this -- well, strange dream" she
flushed "but I feel completely better.  I had this talk with you. 
Everything seemed to make sense, and I felt myself, in the dream, become
totally unconcerned with what has just happened.  And, better than that,
I still do."

     "That's wonderful, Beverly," Troi smiled.  "And your feelings
towards Captain Picard?"

     "Oh, so he has some fling with this alien.  So what?  He's  still
the same loyal friend I've always known him to be."

     Deanna barely heard.  She was trying to figure something out about
the dream she had just had.

     "Beverly," she said, "that's great, but you know, I just had a
dream about you, too."

     "Were we discussing Jean-Luc?"

     "Yes, well . . . for a time."

     Crusher flushed again.

     "Deanna, it seems that our unwillingness to talk about our dreams
further means we are uncomfortable with certain aspects of them."

     "Yes.  Perhaps."

     Troi got up and walked towards the replicator, then turned and
walked back. 

     "Beverly," she said, "I think the best thing to do would be for me
to just tell you -- what I dreamed."

     "All right, Deanna."  Crusher looked away.

     "I dreamed that you and I went for a swim in a holo-deck bay," she
said.  "We discussed what has happened today and worked it through. 
Then --"

     "The first part of my dream went precisely the same way, Deanna. 
I suppose" she glanced up quickly, then looked away "the rest did too."

     "We -- were intimate."

     They looked at each other, stunned.  Then, they both burst into
laughter.

     "Well, all right," said Crusher. 

     "We are wonderfully close friends; this recent occurrence had to do
with - well -- physical intimacy.  It makes sense."

     "But it doesn't make sense that we had the same dream.  Unless --"

     Crusher sat up.  "That alien!  She did it!"

     "Now, Beverly, let's not jump to conclusions."

     "Before I left Jean-Luc's quarters, she said 'I'm sorry'"

     They each thought about that for a moment.

     After a long, uncomfortable silence, Troi said, "Beverly, I happen
to know that she only has partial powers.  She's half-shapeshifter,
half-Q, or some other combination of the two.  She couldn't have put
such a dream together without considerable help from our psyches."

     "Are you saying --"  Crusher looked at Troi.

     "I'm *saying* that we are very close friends, that we've discussed
very intimate things, and shared our lives in very intimate ways.  It
isn't far-fetched to think that on some level, we are attracted to one
another physically."

     Crusher thought about it for a moment, then smiled.

     "Well, Deanna, you are rather attractive."

     They laughed.

     "Well, should we explore this further?" Beverly asked.

     "Let's go to the holo-deck."

	  ***       ***       ***

     The sun glinted off the clear green water.  Crusher and Troi raced
each other back and forth across the bay.  When they were thoroughly
exhausted, they lay out on the beach, side by side on a grassy
embankment.

     "We've been playing this rather innocently," Deanna mused. 
"Perhaps we should do something a little more -- daring -- to see where
it takes us."

     "Like what?"

     Deanna rolled over on top of Beverly, wiping the water off of her
face and neck with a towel that lay nearby.

     "Computer, a change of scenery, please.  A twilight scene, a
clearing in dense woods."

     The scenery changed.  As Crusher watched the terrain change around
them, Deanna began kissing her tentatively on the lips.  Crusher
hesitated.  She had not been intimate with anyone for a long time.  She
briefly considered her disgust when her Trill lover had turned from a
wonderful male companion to a woman.  She remembered the strain between
them, their brief, stilted discourse.  Why had she been so against that? 
The person carried what she wanted with her, didn't she?

     Beverly began to respond to Deanna.  She encircled her in her arms,
and rolled them onto their sides.  They explored each other's bodies
with their hands.  They took turns massaging each other's back and
limbs.  At some point, Deanna began massaging Beverly's breasts and the
area immediately surrounding them.

     "I think I could learn to like this," said Beverly.

     "Really? Me, too," said Troi, feigning surprise.

     "Yes, really.  Regrettably, however, I have a minor operation to
attend to.  How about meeting me back here in an hour?"

     "It's a date.  Same scene?"

     "Same scene."
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (PT. 5)
	  copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     Ztlaf was feeling a bit queasy.  She had righted the pain she had
caused, but for how long?  It had been sheer luck that Deanna and
Beverly were attracted to one another on a level that Ztlaf had been
able to tap.  She hovered in the captain's quarters, thinking.  The
scarlet light wavered a bit; its intensity would not make an onlooker
wince.  Ztlaf knew that her misdeed would be punished; she just didn't
know how or when.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Captain,"

     "Yes, Number One."

     "We just received a message from a Ferengi freighter.  They say
they have some merchandise they believe will interest us."  Riker
sounded disdainful.

     "What sort of merchandise?"

     "The message didn't specify.  We have been asked if they may
bring some samples on board so that they can discuss a 'fair
exchange.'"

     "It must be something very interesting indeed for them to think
we are suddenly interested in acquiring goods from them."

     "There's no telling how and where they got whatever it is they
*think* we want."

     "Why don't we just make things simple, Number One; we'll invite
them on board with some of their wares when they are ready."

     "They will be in transporter range in three and a half hours,
sir."

     "Fine.  I'm going to attend to some personal errands, Will.  I'll
be in Ten Forward if you need me."

     "Do any of these personal errands involve your new friend?"

     Picard laughed.  "Will, you never stop!"

     "No, sir.  Not if I can help it."

	       ***            ***            ***

     Deanna lay on a thick, spongy layer of moss in the clearing where
she and Beverly had initiated their first physical encounter.  Deanna
felt a little anxious, not that she had time to turn the events of
that afternoon over in her mind.  She hoped fervently that Beverly
felt sure about this.  Deanna wasn't in a rebound, and Worf -- Oh, no! 
How the hell was she going to explain this to Worf?  She remembered
when he and she had discussed the ways in which young Klingons
experimented with sexual maturation.  He had told her that it was
quite natural for bands of young Klingons to have the equivalent of
orgies, though Worf had said the Klingon translation did not have
taboo connotations.  At such parties, it was common for girls to
"play" with girls and boys with boys.  While it was acceptable in
adulthood for women to continue to have sex with women (and with
maturing boys and girls past the Age of Ascension or other rites of
passage) it was looked down upon, and rarely discussed.  It was a
widely held belief (as had been the case on many worlds -- and still
was so on others) that males required greater variety and more sexual
liaisons than women.  Because of this, all Klingon men outside the
warrior class were expected to have encounters with men of their
class.  In the warrior class, however, it was tradition (and therefore
honorable) for a warrior to find a woman with whom he took an oath for
life.  Although many warrior class Klingons had liaisons with men of
other classes, such behavior was strictly forbidden between warriors. 
(Deanna had been mollified only by the fact that women of the warrior
class were expected to refrain from liaisons with one another as
well.)

     "Why such different standards for the warrior class, Worf?" she
had asked.

     "A warrior must be able to count on his or her fellow warriors
in difficult, often life-threatening situations.  Having such
encounters with the men in your group or on your ship would
undoubtedly cause a lack of cohesion and result in mistrust among the
men."

     "That's absurd," Deanna had said.  "If anything, because of their
training in strategy and self-discipline, and the constant
reinforcement of the importance of collective cooperation, such
liaisons are less likely to cause trouble than in other classes."

     "There have been warriors who have argued so," Worf had said.
"They were often long-time shipmates who had become lovers.  They were
ousted from the warrior class.  I don't understand it myself, Deanna,
but they made the others nervous."

     "Why?"

     "Many were afraid that there would eventually develop camps of
warriors who had relationships with shipmates and group-mates, and
warriors who held to tradition and believed it dishonorable and
destructive to the efficiency and discipline of the warrior class as
a whole."

     "And how do you feel?"

     "I cannot understand why a man would desire the body of another
man.  I have never indulged in such experiences.  It is a practice
that makes me very uncomfortable, Deanna."

     Deanna remembered that she had never asked Worf how he felt
personally about women having physical relationships.

	       ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf floated lazily back and forth across Picard's quarters. 
She felt something coming for her; she could not read it, however. 
It was being scrambled, and she could not unravel its meaning.  She
felt instinctively that whatever it was, she had reason to fear it.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Guinan, may I have a few words with you?"

     "Well, of course, Captain."

     "Do you think we could talk elsewhere?"

     "Certainly. -- Regor, could you supervise things for a while,
especially that table of Andorians over there?  Thanks."

     "Let's go to the arboretum."
     
     Picard added nothing more as he and Guinan headed for the quiet
and relative privacy of the arboretum.

     "You look so serious, Captain.  I thought everything was going
rather well for you -- to well, in fact.  Is there a catch?  Have you
learned of one?"

     "No, no, Ztlaf's fine.  I think."

     "What do you mean, 'you think?'  I've never known you to be at
a loss for some recognition of how a situation was going.  Even in the
realm of personal relationships."

     "It's not a problem with me, or with us, for that matter.  It's
Ztlaf herself.  Dr. Crusher came by this morning, and demanded to know
what was going on."

     "Well, I told you that was inevitable, didn't I?  I told you that
you should be straight with her as soon as possible."

     "Yes.  Yes, you did."

     Picard paused in their stroll and looked Guinan straight in the
face.  "Guinan, I introduced them."

     Guinan cocked her head to the side, looking for all the world as
if she were attempting to put Picard in proper focus.

     "You *what*?  Do you think that was wise."

     "Introduced them -- in a fashion."

     "Captain, let's just have it straight, okay?  What happened?"

     "Beverly came in and demanded to know what was going on.  I tried
to ease her into it.  I didn't know what else to do, so I asked Ztlaf
to appear."

     "You didn't?"

     "You think that was a mistake?  I didn't know what else to say,
what else to do.  She would have to know that I was involved with
someone.  She'd wonder who; in fact, she demanded to know who it was."

     "You could have just told her about Ztlaf.  You didn't have to
invite the other woman to the party, Jean-Luc."

     "Guinan, please.  It was hard enough to go through once; don't
ask me to repeat it.  I know you're going to ask what she did."

     "That's right, I am.  What did she do?"

     "She got very upset."

     "I'm sure."

     "Since then, Ztlaf hasn't been quite herself.  You know I
explained to you that her 'home form' which is what she calls it, is
a spiral of brilliant scarlet light?"

     "Yes?"

     "Well, when we aren't -- when we're talking, she usually reverts
to that form, and we communicate by thought.  I just think the words
and she answers.  Sometimes I'll talk out loud, just because it feels
more natural.  It's somewhat strange, because I have to look away from
her when I talk to her when she is in home form.  The light is usually
too bright."

     "Maybe she dimmed down a little because she sees it makes you
uncomfortable to talk to her?"

     "I considered that, Guinan.  But it isn't just the decrease in
intensity.  It -- she has started *flickering*, wavering.  I asked her
about it, and her answer, in my mind, seemed -- I guess the best
analogy would be slurred.  She sounded drugged or sick."

     "And what did she say?"

     "Oh, she said something about down time, that she needed to
regenerate in order to change from one form to another."

     "I thought you said she appears to you in one form when you --"

     "Yes.  But sometimes, she surprises me."  "Picard looked away.

     "Well, tell her to tone down the talent show."

     "I just feel that there is more to it than that.  She told me it
is necessary for her to maintain the home form for half an hour every
thirty hours.  Otherwise, there were no limitations, she told me. 
Now, she says she needs down time."

     "Did you press her?"

     "Yes.  But she said she had to attend to herself in a way to
convoluted to explain.  She told me she had recently found it
necessary to use her powers to fix something she had messed up."

     "You think that has to do with you?  With you and Beverly?"

     "It may have nothing to do with anything you or I could think of. 
It's just that I have this feeling, Guinan.  I've never relied on this
kind of feeling before.  There is no rational reason why I should be
concerned.  Nothing has really changed, except that Beverly knows now. 
In the long run, that is best for everyone."

     "But especially for you."  

     Picard looked at her.

     "What are you saying, Guinan?"

     "Maybe all this worry is misdirected.  Maybe you're really
worried about Beverly.  Maybe your instinctual hunch is the foreigner
guilt, Captain."

	       ***            ***            ***

     "I'm back!"  Beverly looked exceptional.  She had dressed for a
night out in the woods, but her casual digs fir her well.

     "Well, come sit down," Deanna answered brightly.  "I fixed us a
beautiful, starry night."

     "How romantic of you, Deanna."  They laughed.

     "I brought something with me," Crusher said.  

     She reached into an opaque sack and took out two genuine
chocolate sundaes. 

     "Perfect!  How did you guess?"

     I didn't have to, Deanna.  Anyone who knows you is aware of your
addiction."

     "I resent that," Deanna said, taking a huge mouthful.

     "What was that?  I didn't hear you."

     Deanna, mouth full of chocolate ice cream and hot fudge, nearly
spilled the rest of her sundae, in addition the contents of her mouth,
as she laughed and gave Crusher a teasing punch.

     "Hey, you save that for your Klingon," Dr. Crusher laughed.  "I'm
not so hardy."

     They ate their sundaes, and discussed the operation which Crusher
had just completed.

     When the sundae cups were empty, they put them down and watched
as the holo-deck breeze carried them away.  The ship would take care
of them.

     "So, we've gorged ourselves; we talked business and gossiped. 
What else should we do, Beverly?"

     "I don't know.  Any ideas?"

     "Yes, I have a few."  Then Deanna grew serious.

     "Beverly?"

     "Hmmm?"

     "I'm nervous."

     "Me, too."

     For a long, uncomfortable moment, they looked at each other
uncertainly.  Deanna could tell, however, that below Beverly's
admission of nervousness, and amid the jangle of her feelings, there
was also excitement and anticipation.

     "Let's just take it slowly and see where we wind up.  All right,
Beverly?"

     Dr. Crusher took a deep breath.

     "I'm ready," she said.
     
	       ***            ***            ***

     Picard had a lot to think about.  As usual, Guinan's ability to
get to the heart of the matter had sent him into serious reflection
of his circumstances.  He had to figure out what was really bothering
him.  But that would be easier to do once he had another talk with Ztlaf.

     "Ztlaf, where are you?" 

     Picard glanced about his quarters.  He had gotten out of his
uniform and had taken shower.  Now he sat in his chair and spotted her
hovering at eye-level.  Her color had changed.  It was dull orange,
and she was flickering rapidly.

     "Ztlaf, please.  Please tell me what is happening to you."

     Picard started as the light disappeared.  He felt odd suddenly. 
He stood up and looked around, then knelt and searched for the light.

     "You won't find me there," Ztlaf whispered.  The whisper was a
one of frailty and weariness, not desire.  Picard felt a sick
sensation in the pit of his stomach.

     "No!" Ztlaf's word was a scream.  "Please, please, Jean-Luc. 
Don't do that!  If I hurt *you*, they won't have to --"  The words
trailed off into silence.

     "They?  Who are they, Ztlaf?  And what will they do?  What are
you afraid of?"

     It was obvious that his pain was something with which Ztlaf could
not deal.  He suddenly realized that her -- mood -- had changed after
the encounter with Dr. Crusher. 

     You can't injure anyone.  Yes, that's what you told me.  And you
would act differently whenever you thought you were hurting me.  You
got very upset, in fact."

     He felt a stirring in his groin.  He knew Ztlaf was trying to
distract him.  He tried to ignore it.

     "Ztlaf, please!  Why are you -- fading?  Are you ill?"

     The next minute or so was a wonderful agony.  Picard lay on the
floor, writhing with pleasure.  He tried to focus his mind -- what was
it . . . something urgent . . . Ztlaf . . . Ztlaf . . . !  The moment
he thought of her name he felt a *pushing* or some strange sensation;
she was telling him something.  She was . . . "I'm not going to be
with you much longer, Jean-Luc.  Please know I love you; don't forget
me."  The rest was not words, but knowledge -- Ztlaf was giving him
her last bit of strength by putting almost all that was left of her
strength into stimulating the pleasure centers of his brain directly. 
Picard knew this, then was unaware again, as his whole world blurred
into second upon second, moment upon moment of searing, horrible,
indescribably fantastic pleasure.  He felt himself floating in a
bubble of indefinable delights.  His hands, his feet, everything
became an extension of the hot throb between his thighs.  He gulped
air, and clawed at his bunk, trying to lift himself to it.  He was
having flashbacks of Ztlaf's mouth tasting every part of him, her
hands molding him into what she wanted, and what he wanted, but never
explored.  He tasted her in his mouth; he felt her breath seemingly
all over him.  He gripped the back of his chair, not knowing how he
had gotten to his feet.  He tried to sit in it, stumbled and fell. 
He realized, somehow, that he was vocalizing his ecstasy and clapped
his hands over his mouth, trying to muffle whatever sounds he might
be making.  He rolled from one side to the other, squeezing his
fingers over his face, pressing against his temples, willing the
pleasure to stop and to continue, to lessen and to increase.  He
wanted it to stop; no, no, it shouldn't ever stop.  He was confused;
he was going mad.  He pressed his body to the floor, stomach down,
hoping the aching, throbbing pleasure would stop between his legs. 
He suddenly became aware that he was drenched with sweat -- and semen. 
A lot of sweat; a lot of semen.
     
     Then it stopped.

     Picard lay, his breath sobbing from his throat.  He felt drained,
dehydrated, parched.  His body ached all over, consciousness was
shaky.  "Goodbye, Jean-Luc," he heard somewhere in his mind.  "I hurt
someone, that doctor.  I have to pay."
What?  What?  There was something . . . important.

     "No!"  Suddenly Picard dragged himself to his knees, and forced
himself, with difficulty, to stand.  He searched the room frantically
with his eyes. 

     "Ztlaf, explain this to me!  Maybe I can help!"

     He suddenly caught a glimpse of a tiny flicker of pinkish light
in the corner by the entrance to his quarters.  He dove upon it,
holding his hand out.  

     "Come to me," he said quietly.  "If you have to die, die with me
holding you."

     "No; you will feel what I feel if I do that," Ztlaf's voice was
a mere whisper in his mind.  "I hope you never feel such pain, Jean-
Luc."

     "The time has come to put an end to all the smut and especially
this sickening display of melodrama!"

     Picard whirled.

     "Q!!!"

	       ***            ***            ***

     Deanna unbuttoned her blouse, (which, as usual, was already
displaying cleavage) and moved closer to Beverly.  As they kissed,
Beverly reached tentatively to grasp Deanna's left nipple between two
fingers.  She massaged it with pressure that was not quite pain, but
not soft, either.  Deanna felt a surge of pleasure -- it was
Beverly's.  Deanna smiled, and forced Beverly's lips further apart,
thrusting her tongue.

     "Mmmm," she said.  "You taste just like a chocolate sundae,
Beverly."

     Beverly laughed and hugged Deanna closer to her.  She pulled
Deanna's blouse completely off, and bent to take her left breast in
her mouth.  She worked her tongue all around the nipple, and proceeded
to encircle Deanna's breast with long, strong swipes of her tongue. 
Deanna caught her breath; men had done this before, but somehow, this
was . . . different, and as far as she was concerned, better.  Deanna
slid her hand between Beverly's knees and massaged her way teasingly
up to the warmth of her crotch.  Deanna traced the vulva with her
fingers, murmuring, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you had a
little less material between you and me?"

     "Most definitely," said Beverly, slipping quickly from her casual
slacks.

     She hadn't been wearing any underwear.

     "Beverly!  You're full of surprises tonight!"

     Deanna snuggled up to Beverly as the doctor worked Deanna's skirt
down her legs and puddled it around her ankles.  Deanna wore a lacy,
skimpy material that had too little to it to call it an undergarment.

     "Why bother, Deanna?" Beverly giggled.

     "I think they're pretty.  And don't say no one is going to see
them, because just has."

		    ***            ***            ***

     Worf paced restlessly outside Deanna's quarters.  He didn't like
to intrude on her space, but where the heck was she?  They hadn't made
a date, but he was feeling rather desirous and was a little annoyed
that her schedule wasn't cooperating.  Finally, exasperated, he
entered the turbo-lift and barked out, "Computer!  Location of
Counselor Troi!"

     "Counselor Deanna Troi is in holo-deck 4," the computer replied.

	       ***            ***

     Deanna's face was nuzzled between Beverly's legs.  She kissed
Beverly on her upper thighs, nipping playfully.  She licked her from
clitoris to perineum, slowly, deliberately delicate, giving the
slightest touch with her tongue.  Gradually, she increased the
pressure and speed, while she drove her fingers in and out of
Beverly's vagina.  Beverly was a quiet lover, but that was all right
with Deanna.  She knew all she needed to know; she felt Beverly's
shivering excitement, her desire for Deanna to go faster and harder. 
Most of all, Deanna knew that Beverly wanted to have Deanna's tongue
deep inside her.  No, she wasn't a telepathic lover, but her empathic
abilities in these circumstances were heightened because of her own
sensual pleasure.  She was feeling and enjoying the pleasure of the
both of them.  She felt a delicious, liquid rush between her thighs,
and used her other hand to touch and caress herself while she
continued to tease Beverly, feeding on her anticipation.  Deanna
paused, and looked up.  Beverly's head was leaning to the right,
staring at something.

     "What is it?"

     "I don't know.  I thought I heard something."

     "You're still nervous?" Deanna asked.  "You don't feel nervous
to me."

     "No, I really thought I --"

     "Never mind.  Focus on feeling something, instead."

     With that, Deanna used both hands to open Beverly wide.  She
placed her thumbs inside her, putting pressure on the g-spot.  Then,
she plunged inside Beverly, sending her tongue into a swirling,
whirling dance.  She licked at the vaginal walls, and stuck her tongue
deep inside, as far as she could go.  She left it there for a moment,
intoxicated by the taste and scent.  Beverly's body was rigid with the
need to scream with pleasure, but she had never been comfortable
vocalizing her erotic pleasure.  She bit her lip, trying to maintain
silence.  

     "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"  

     The booming, startled voice of the Klingon brought each of them
to a sitting position; each attempted to cover herself.  

     "Worf," said Deanna.  Why the hell hadn't she sensed him?
Oh Captain, My Captain (Pt. VI)

     Copyright 1994, Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com

     

     Picard stared at Q.

     "Now it all makes sense," he said.  "You're responsible for Ztlaf's
--"

     "Death?  Not quite yet, Jean-Luc.  But her time is, as they say,
running out."

     "Why?"

     "First of all for My sake, get yourself cleaned up."

     Q snapped his fingers and Picard felt freshly washed.  His uniform
felt dry and clean.

     "Now you're at least halfway fit to be in My presence, _mon
capitan_."

     "But you were *not* invited into my quarters!"

     "Neither was Ztlaf.  But you let her stay.  For a few disgusting
personal favors."

     "Q, on occasion you have surprised me with your ability to be
reasonable.  Could we possibly make this another of those rare
occurrences?"

     "I'm so sorry, Captain.  But Ztlaf knew the rules.  I'm afraid she
will have to say goodbye."

     Q walked over to the tiny flicker of light, barely visible against
the floor now.  Q bent towards Ztlaf and there was a crash which sounded
like one hundred thunderclaps.  

     "Ztlaf!  Thank goodness!"  

     The spiral of scarlet light was brighter than ever before.  Q
turned, momentarily confused.

     "What in Our Name are you doing here?  I thought I got rid of you
two thousand light-years ago."

     "You taught me well," the young woman said. "That's why the
Continuum sent me after you.  They knew you would take things to
extremes, as usual."

     "Amanda," Picard said, smiling.

	  ***       ***       

     "LaForge to Bridge."

     "Go ahead, Engineering," said Riker.

     "We're getting ready to dock at Starbase 152 down here.  But we
just picked up readings of massive radiation from the Ferengi freighter. 
There appears to be some source of radiation aboard the ship."

     "From the cargo bay?"

     "No, sir.  On their Bridge.  I think it's from weapons' discharge."

	  ***       ***       ***

     "All right, Deanna," Worf said, his jaw set.  "Explain this."

     "There's nothing to explain, Worf.  Beverly and I discovered we
were attracted to one another, and one thing led to the next.  It was
very similar to what happened with us."

     "We took our time about it," Worf said, "and I must point out,
Deanna, that we couldn't ever have done what you were apparently doing."

     "Well, if you were smiling, i'd think that was funny," said Deanna.

     "I'm *not* amused."

     "Deanna, I'm going to leave, so you can talk with Worf."

     "A good idea," said Worf.

     "I disagree," said Deanna smiling.  "Beverly, look at me."

     Dr. Crusher looked into Deanna's eyes.  Deanna smiled, moved her
head ever so slightly in Worf's direction and said "What do you think,
Beverly?"

     Beverly laughed.  "Are you serious?"

     "What is going on here?" Worf asked irritably.  He noticed,
however, that he was getting an erection.

     "Well?" Deanna smiled.

     "You only live once," Beverly laughed.  The two naked women leapt
upon Worf.

	  ***       ***       

     "Hello, Amanda," Picard said.  "I can imagine you know how glad I
am to see you."

     "Always coming to the rescue.  You have a lot of learning yet to
do."

     "I think I've learned enough from you," Amanda said evenly.  "How
I've been able to learn anything good from you is a wonder."

     "This shape-shifter was sworn not to hurt anyone, directly or
indirectly."

     "You're a fine one to judge your daughter so harshly.  I don't know
what Q she takes after, but it certainly isn't you."

     "You are the one who coupled with Ztlaf's mother?  You're her
*father* and you wanted to kill her?"  Picard was stunned.

     "We don't put too much stock in silly matters of familial
connections, Jean-Luc.  This daughter of mine should keep her hands out
of things she doesn't understand properly.  She has shown herself to be
highly irresponsible."

     "What have you shown yourself to be time and time again?" Picard
demanded.

     "I'm not going to have a debate with you about my morality, Picard. 
Not that it wouldn't be great fun, mind you.  Right now, my little
apprentice needs to get out of my way."

     "Ztlaf did nothing wrong," Amanda said "and if you want to know the
truth, you did lose me.  The Continuum sent me guidance, because they
knew you'd take advantage of me.  They don't want Ztlaf dead."

     "She will wreak havoc all over the galaxy, and you want to save
her?"

     "You have brought more chaos into the galaxies than she'll ever
bring,"  said Amanda.  

     "Thank you, Amanda," said Ztlaf.

     "And stop calling her Amanda.  She's Q."

     "Forgive us if we choose to keep calling her Amanda, if only to
remind ourselves that there is far more than a fine distinction between
you."

     "Picard, you can be so childish," said Q.   "The things you were
doing with my daughter -- absolutely disgusting."

     "I refuse to accept that you are my father," said Ztlaf.

     "You, my dear, had no choice in the matter," said Q.

     "I certainly didn't.  I don't have such awful taste."

     "Really?  Look at what you've been --"

     Picard lunged at Q, smashing his right fist into his throat.  Q
fell over, clutching his neck.

     "You helped him hurt me!" he sputtered.

     "You deserved it," said Amanda.

     "Riker to Captain Picard."

     "Go ahead."

     "Sir, you won't believe me if I tell you.  Could you come to the
Bridge, please?"

     "Well, Q, I must go," Picard said.  "Please do me the service of
getting the hell off my ship."

     "I'll make sure he does no harm, Captain," said Amanda.

	  ***       ***       ***

     Worf flung his arms up, roughly flinging the women from him.

     "What do you think you're doing?"

     "Worf, really," said Deanna sweetly, standing and brushing herself
off.  "Is that any way to treat two naked ladies?"

     Deanna took a log laying just to the side of the clearing and
hurled it towards Worf.

     "How about some poetry, Worf?" she smiled.  Deanna and Beverly
pulled the Klingon to the mossy ground.  He tried to fend them off as
Deanna swiftly removed his uniform.

     "Well, you certainly don't seem angry to me," Deanna mused, holding
his thick, long penis in her right hand.

     "*Deanna*!  You've actually; I mean, he . . .  Doesn't that hurt?"

     "Not if you prepare properly, Beverly," said Deanna, laughing.

     "This is embarrassing, Deanna.  What has come over you?  You never
told me about you and Dr. Crusher."

     "We just had our first -- intimacy this evening, Worf.  We were
barely aware of it.  But enough talk."

     Deanna took Worf's penis in her mouth.  She could only hold about
half of it; the rest she wrapped her right hand around and began
caressing.  Her tongue moved in ever-widening circles, getting harder
and faster as each circle grew.  Beverly began fondling Worf's chest,
massaging it, then moving slowly towards his shoulders.  When she got
there, she began kissing and licking the back of his neck.  Worf was
feeling as if he would explode.  He began growling low in his throat,
bending his head and nipping at Deanna's breasts as she sat next to him,
caressing and sometimes taking his penis in her mouth.  Deanna loved the
infliction of moderate pain his bites caused her.  It didn't really
hurt; it felt invigorating and sensual.  He suddenly threw Deanna
backwards, flinging himself on top of her.  He lunged inside her, and
she let out a cry as his long, thick, twitching penis hit her cervix. 
He was careful, however, to keep himself from going too deep. 
Meanwhile, Beverly stood over them, watching, fascinated as Deanna was
seemingly nailed to the layer of moss by Worf's lusty lunges.  Worf
noticed her again, and beckoned with his right arm for her to get
closer.  She stepped towards them tentatively, and he reached up with
one arm and placed her so that she was right above them.  He turned
Deanna over, seemingly by just moving his penis in the same direction he
wanted her to face.  

     "Get down here," he said gruffly to Beverly.

     Beverly got down next to them, and Worf placed his head between her
legs while still pumping inside Deanna.  He began to taste deep inside
Beverly immediately; his tongue seemed as long and eager as his cock. 
Beverly shivered, her body roaring with sensation.  She couldn't contain
her excitement; she came, her musky liquid pouring onto Worf's tongue. 
The Klingon growled with excitement, reaching up and grabbing roughly at
Beverly's breasts.  They were a writhing, noisy threesome.  

     "Computer," Beverly managed to say.  "Activate privacy codes; no
interruptions except for emergencies."

	  ***       ***       ***

     "Will, what is the meaning of this, Will?"

     The first thing Picard saw as he stepped from the turbo-lift onto
the Bridge was the naked forms of six Ferengi females.

     "I'll explain, Captain," said one of the Ferengi.  "My name is
Galoc.  We have been enslaved on a freighter belonging to Ferengi
renegades.  They wanted to sell us to the highest bidder."

     "*you* are the wares to which they referred earlier?" 

     Picard was stunned.  "I know that Ferengi women are kept unclothed,
but sale of your species for any purpose is against --"

     "As I said, Captain," Galoc interrupted.  "These were renegades. 
We are the wives of Ferengi who couldn't make it as merchants of either
quality goods and services, or pirated merchandise.  Our husbands were
the jokes of the village."

     "Before we hear further, I think you ladies would be better off
clothed," said Picard.  "ensign Trinn, would you please take these
ladies to be measured and have the replicator provide something
suitable?"

     "Right away, sir."

     "Will, what happened?"

     "Galoc tells me that their husbands all agreed that they would get
a bundle selling submissive, naked Ferengi females as sex slaves. 
Apparently, if they did well, they were going to start a business and
arrange for the sale of Ferengi women as a new industry."

     "How did they get aboard my ship?"

     "Only two Ferengi males were on the ship with them, one handling
the communications and navigation, the other in engineering.  They
didn't supervise the ladies very well, and Galoc found some weapons they
had gotten in an exchange earlier that day -- not a Ferengi, but some
supposedly valuable beverage with healing qualities from the Andorians."

     "So they killed the two Ferengi men?"
"Yes, sir."

     "Captain, there is a message coming in from the starbase.  We're
ready to dock and to begin having supplies beamed aboard.  There are
fifty civilians coming aboard.  And one other person," said the ensign.

     "Well, who is it, Ensign?"

     "Counselor Troi's mother, sir."

     "Oh, no.  This day keeps getting better and better," Picard
murmured.

     "Sir?"

     "Never mind, Ensign.  Please notify Counselor Troi that Lwaxana
Troi is coming aboard."

     "yes, sir."

     "Commander," the captain said, turning to Riker.  "Notify the
Ferengi government of tonight's occurrences, and then go talk to the
Ferengi women to see if you are able to glean any more important
information from them."

     "Yes, sir."

	  ***       ***       ***

     Worf, Deanna and Beverly started.  "Counselor Troi, please come to
the Bridge.  Your mother wishes to speak with you."

     Deanna groaned, putting her clothes on quickly.  The voice had been
that of Lwaxana Troi.

	  ***       ***       ***

     "Mother, why didn't you tell me you would be here?"

     "Oh, it was a last-minute thing, Little One; you know me.  I was
within a reasonable distance; I looked up the Enterprise schedule, and
here I am."

     "All right, Mother.  How are you?"

     "Fine, darling.  Fine.  But my goodness, you look like you've had
a run-in with a Betazed river-beast!"

     "We'll talk about this later, mother," said Deanna.

     "Sweetheart, you're throwing up mental blocks against me, your own
mother.  All right, what are you keeping from me?"

     "We'll talk about it later.  But I have to go now."

     "But I just *got* here, Little one."

     "Mother, for the last time -- stop calling me that!"

     Picard saw Lwaxana too late; their meeting could not be avoided.

     "Oh, Captain Picard," she smiled broadly.  "As usual, it is
extremely pleasant to see you."

     "Thank you, Mrs. Troi.  But I really must attend to a group of
Ferengi that --"

     "Nonsense, nonsense.  It's dinnertime, and I'll be eating with
you."

     "I'm afraid that just isn't possible this evening."

     "Well, I'll come by later; we can have some tea together and catch
up on things."

     "Fine, but right now, I must go."

     "Captain," Worf said.  "I was not informed of the Ferengi situation
until just now.  I was off duty, but I still think I should have been
informed.  Where there are Ferengi, there is trouble."

     "I don't think these Ferengi are going to be quite as destructive
as others we have had on the ship, Mr. Worf."

     "They may be naked and female, Captain, but they are still
Ferengi."

     "Lieutenant, enough!"

     "Where are they now, sir?"

     "Commander Riker is speaking with them presently.  Ask him for his
report when he's done, but I don't think they will be a security
problem."

     Although Picard had told Lwaxana Troi that he was going to speak
with Riker, he knew that his first officer would contact him if anything
of importance were gleaned from his discussion with the Ferengi.  Picard
went to his quarters instead.

     "Ztlaf," he said smiling.  She had been sitting in a chair near the
door, talking with Amanda.  She got up and went to him, putting her arms
around him.  Amanda disappeared.

     "Jean-Luc," Ztlaf said, holding him tightly.  "I'm sorry I couldn't
tell you; I just thought it best."

     "What are the terms of your survival now?" Picard said, half-
joking.

     "Amanda said she'll watch out for me, and that she feels I am
responsible enough with the power I have to make my own choices.  The
Continuum -- all but a few -- agrees."

     "Why doesn't the Continuum sanction Q?  They've done it before."

     "They hate to admit that one of them could behave irresponsibly. 
Supposedly, they aren't supposed to interfere with other species and
their circumstances.  But those rules are broken all the time."

     "Ztlaf, I must ask you a favor.  If you can't do it, if it will
result in harm coming to you --"

     "If I can do it, Jean-Luc, I will,"

     "You've undoubtedly read something about Deanna Troi's mother,
Lwaxana in my thoughts."

     "Not much.  You don't like to think of her because she flirts with
you all the time and you're not physically attracted to her, though you
think she's attractive."

     "Yes, well, Ztlaf, she is here, on the Enterprise."

     "Yes, Jean-Luc.  I know."

     "She is going to be after me tonight to have tea with her.  Could
you find some way of keeping her away from me during her stay on the
ship?  Not just tonight, but for however long she stays.  I can't stay
away from her.  She insinuates herself into my conversations whenever
she happens to be where i am.  She throws coquettish banter at me and my
crew, making most of them very uncomfortable."

     "I know exactly what to do, Jean-Luc.  But I need to talk to you
about my idea."

	  ***       ***       ***

     "Well, ladies, now that you've all dressed and eaten, I'd like to
get some more information about what occurred earlier today."

     "There's nothing more to add, Commander Riker.  I killed the
engineer and the navigator," Galoc said.  "They wanted to sell us as sex
servants.  Yes, servants; we would be paid, but guess who would get the
money?"

     "I notice none of your friends here say much." said Riker.  "Why
are you ladies so quiet?"

     "Commander, please understand.  These women have been told all
their lives that they must do as they are told.  Women are rarely
allowed to gather together.  The only time they do is to cook for
business conventions and to clean up after the men.  We are taught by
older women who are no longer desirable what to do to pleasure our men. 
This includes learning to make love to one another for the men; they
like to watch.  The only time Ferengi women are able to establish
meaningful relationships is during these classes.  Most of the older
women are bitter, and don't care if we get together and share our
plights.  Of course, most of the women we know think everything is the
way it should be and take their 'duties' seriously."

     During this conversation, Riker became more and more angry.  How
could people be treated this way by members of their own species?

     He returned his attention to Galoc.

     "I must accept full responsibility for the deaths of the men,
Commander.  These women tried to stop me."

     "What do you want us to do?" asked Riker.  "While the Ferengi
government won't be happy about the embarrassment this will cause, they
don't exactly have enlightened notions about their women killing their
men."

     "That's true," said Galoc.  "We request asylum, Commander."

     "I had a feeling you would," Riker said, frowning worriedly.  "I'll
have to talk with the Captain, of course."

     One of the Ferengi women came over to Riker, bowed and got to her
knees.

     "Please, what can I do for you to help assure that Galoc will not
be harmed?" she asked quietly, eyes on the floor.

     "First of all, I want you to look me straight in the face while
standing!" Riker said authoritatively.  He knew this was the only way to
get through to a person so abused.

     "I -- I can't *look* a man in the face, except when he wants to --
well, you know --"

     "Okay, that's it!"  Riker pulled over a chair and sat down. 
"Ladies, I am telling you right now that nobody is going to sell you,
and on this ship, nobody is going to tell you what to do.  You do and
say what you like, when you like, and to whom you like, within reason. 
You come and go as you please.  You, not someone else, decides what
you're wearing, what you're eating, who you spend your days -- or nights
-- with.  Is that understood?"

     "Oh, he's just like Raag," said one of the Ferengi.  "He used to
make me pretend I was a Terran woman.  He used to dress me up and treat
me -- like his friends.  And then, of course, before we had sex, he
would rip my clothes off and hit me a little.  And then we'd have sex. 
It was great.  I really should go back to him.  Who will take care of
him?"

     "Oh, you stop it!" spat Galoc.  "You all are nuts.  If you had been
able to stop me, I think I would have had to kill you all to get away at
the next opportunity."

     Galoc got to her feet and walked past Riker to the entrance.

     "Commander, do you mind if I go to Ten Forward?  I heard all about
it from the person at the transporter who beamed us aboard."

     "Certainly.  Have a good time."

     When Galoc had gone, the five remaining Ferengi looked frightened. 
They looked after her, then looked at Riker.

     The Ferengi who had spoken earlier climbed onto Riker's lap.

     "What are you doing?" he asked, pushing her lightly away from him.

     "You seem so angry," she said.  "But we really weren't treated
badly.  We had homes and food and men who took care of us.  They brought
wonderful trinkets from other worlds, especially different ways to liven
up -- well, you know."

     "You were trained in sex and you can't even talk about it," Riker
said, trying once again to get the Ferengi woman off of his lap.

     "Why talk?" one asked, coming to stand beside him.  "The talk never
excites a man.  They're looking for business talk and such from their
friends and colleagues.  We aren't supposed to talk.  We're supposed to
make them feel good."

     "Like this," said the woman who refused to get off of him.  She
slipped her hands between his thighs and began rubbing them against him.

     Riker got up, nearly knocking the woman over.

     "I'll be back later, when Galoc is back.  I can only deal with
her."

     "No, no, don't leave!  Don't be angry!  We're better than she; she
always got beaten because she wouldn't do what her husband and his
friends wanted."

     "Her husband and his friends?"

     "Yes.  Every fourth night, a man brings his most valued colleagues
home to have dinner and his wife."

     "That is monstrous!" Riker shouted.  "I don't want to hear another
word!"

     Riker turned to leave.  He glanced back when he heard a sound that
reminded him of a whimpering child.  To his horror, three of the five
women were crying.

     "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

     "How could you be so cruel?" one of the women who was not crying
asked him.  "We are ready to please you, to do whatever you wish.  How
could you treat us like this, like little girls who cannot do anything?"

     Riker was horrified.  He realized that these women had truly been
raised to believe that in order to earn their keep, they must answer to
their husbands' whims on a daily basis.  Their self-worth was based on
their sexual skill and their readiness to serve.  If he left, it would
be the cruelest thing he could do.  He knew that explaining the equality
of men and women in his species and many others would do nothing.  This
was all they knew; if Galoc hadn't been able to get through to them -- 
but he had an idea.

     Riker had never much cared for Ferengi women; he had seen pictures
of them.  He wasn't particularly excited at the prospect of having sex
with five women -- strange though that sentiment might seem to those who
knew him.  These women weren't sexually stimulated by him; they had
learned to derive their pleasure from giving pleasure, and if they
failed, they were failures; that was that.  So, he was going to give
them what they wanted -- almost.

     "All right!" he said, pretending anger.  "Get out of your clothes! 
All of you!"  

     Five pairs of Ferengi hands swiftly removed their outfits.  The
clothes were in a jumbled pile in the back of the room within ten
seconds.  Riker briefly scanned their bodies, trying to ascertain
whether there were substantial differences of any kind between them and
other species with whom he had had sex.  There didn't appear to be,
except he noticed that their breasts were all small and perky; it looked
as though Ferengi women came in one breast size.  He glanced quickly
between their legs.  They had no pubic hair; none whatsoever.  That
would make things rather interesting for them tonight, he thought.

     "Lie down," he ordered.  Immediately, all five lay on their backs,
legs spread.  Each pleaded with him with her eyes to be first; he could
see it.  This was horrendous.  He could have dragged these women into
the nearest room as soon as they beamed on board and ordered them to
strip -- no, he could have raped them and they would have been proud of
themselves when he came inside them.  Well, they were going to get a
rather different experience this evening.

     Riker looked them over.  In spite of everything, his groin ached
for the feel of a woman's mouth, a woman's hands and vagina.  He wanted
to feel a tongue dancing in his mouth, taste the sweat on a hardened
nipple and hear the cries of a woman as she came, again and again under
his practiced hands and mouth.  He stripped quickly, wondering how the
hell he was going to explain this one to Captain Picard.

     He walked over to the youngest of the five -- at least she looked
it.  He knelt by her side and looked into her eyes.  

     "You're beautiful," he said quietly, touching her ear lightly.  She
shivered; he saw that her expression was shocked, and a little wary. 
But she was smiling.

     "I want you to tell me what feels good when I touch you," he told
her.  "If you don't tell me, I'm going to be very upset, and I'll
leave."

     "You want to make *me* feel good?" she asked, puzzled.  "But I'm
supposed to make you feel good."

     "But when I make a woman feel good, it drives me crazy," Riker
whispered.  "I feel so good; nothing compares to it.  If you have a
wonderful time with me, I'll be happier than I've been in a long time. 
I hate it when women don't tell me what they like.  I get so angry and
upset when they pretend they're having a good time."

     Riker stopped talking, wondering briefly how often women *had*
pretended.

     "So you tell me.  What would make you feel good?"

     "I -- I don't know," the young Ferengi said.  "I always felt happy
when Tonig took me by force and held me all night afterwards."

     Riker tried not to show his distaste.

     "No, I don't mean what will make me happy so that you can be happy. 
What would you like me to do to you?  If you don't tell me," his voice
became loud and angry, "I'll just go to someone else.  Maybe you're too
young.  Maybe you didn't learn anything about your body!  How the hell
can you know how to please me when you don't even know what pleases
you?"

     "I -- I love being, I mean -- my ears are sensitive.  Like a
Ferengi man's," she stammered.  "And I've always hoped that -- well, I
like to, when we girls are together before class starts, I like to have
my -- well . . . "

     "Tell me!" Riker roared, leaning very close to her.  "Tell me right
now!"

     "My uh --"  She pointed between her legs.  For the first time,
Riker noticed how large a Ferengi woman's clitoris was.  Unless she was
different.  He quickly glanced at the others.  No, they all had large
ones.  Wow, were they in for one hell of a night.

     "I like to get -- licked there," said the woman.

     The others tittered.

     "Shut up!" Riker said.  He rolled onto the young woman and began
kissing her.  To his surprise, she actually was a great kisser.  Well,
at least this wasn't going to be all charity work.  Her breath was sweet
and hot; the musky scent that rose from her was not the stale, sour
smell of Ferengi males.  He plunged his tongue into her mouth, grabbing
at both of her breasts with his hands.  He caressed them softly as he
kissed her, then kissed her eyes, her forehead.  He moved to her right
ear, lightly testing the lobe with his tongue.  She squealed with
obvious delight, grabbing at him with hands that had sharp nails.  The
feel of those nails in his ribs and back brought an immediate erection. 
He rubbed his body against her, his penis between her upper thighs,
grazing her crotch with teasing taps.  She was shivering; he stole a
glance at her face.  She was flushed; a light sheen of perspiration
beaded her face and throat.  He licked her ear all around and then began
pressing his tongue hard inside it.  She slapped one of her hands over
her mouth, howling with ecstasy behind it.  Riker drove his tongue
inside her ear again, while he reached over and placed his fingers on
the left ear of the next woman.  She shuddered with pleasure, moving
closer to him.  He slipped his penis inside the first woman, riding her
slowly and sensually.  He looked into her eyes, momentarily leaving the
other woman.  She was staring, wide-eyed at him, a look of sheer joy on
her face.  Riker pulled out before he came and went down on her, sliding
his tongue inside and out.  She tasted as sweet down here as she had
everywhere else.  His face buried against her; he nuzzled the smoothness
there, and flicked his tongue teasingly all over her vulva.  She was
trembling with pleasure, her head stretched back, exposing her throat. 
Riker leapt onto her, sinking his teeth gently into her neck.  She came,
her liquid pouring onto his cock, which nestled at her groin.  Ferengi
women came a lot.  Riker moved to the second woman, whose ear he had
fondled earlier.  The first woman crawled over and slid her head under
his belly, grasping his penis gently between her teeth.  She licked at
him, cleaning off her orgasm.  Riker felt her hot, tight little mouth
surround him, and his erection throbbed.  He kissed the second woman
briefly, then sought her ear, plunging his tongue inside.  As he did so,
he reached to the right and slipped three fingers inside the first
woman.  She growled deep in her throat, and he kept slamming his fingers
inside and out, twisting them inside her in circles.  The woman whose
ear he now nuzzled suddenly grabbed at his left hand and began sucking
his fingers in the most sensual manner he had ever experienced.  His
whole arm tingled with excitement; shivers went up and down his spine. 
The first woman sucked away at him, her tongue moving faster and faster. 
He felt boiling heat in his balls and thought he would explode inside
her any minute.  

     "Yes," he said to the first woman, "Just like that.  You are so
beautiful."  He ruffled her hair.  Then, he rolled over onto the floor
between the second and third woman.  While the first clung to his penis,
he sat up and looked at the three women who waited expectantly, eyeing
their friends jealously.

     Riker gently tugged the first woman's head away from his cock.  He
told her to lay down where she had been.  She did, and he proceeded to
slide into the second woman's vagina and order the first and third women
to slide close.  He plunged his hands between each woman's thighs,
rolling his thumbs around their clits and sinking his fingers inside
them.  He thrust wildly inside the second woman, forgetting all about
gentleness, softness and sensuality.  He felt as if he were riding an
ever-cresting wave, rising higher and higher with no end.  His fingers
tingled; his skin was on fire with pleasure.  His mouth and nose were
filled with the smell and taste of sweet, musky Ferengi women.  He came,
long and hard, spilling inside the second woman with a grunt.  He
clutched an upper thigh of each of the women at his sides.  

     He moved onto the third woman, burying his face between her legs. 
He raised his head and said, "I've never been with such wonderful
ladies.  You are the best."  He saw the happiness and excitement on
their faces, and got back to work.  He would do this as long as he could
-- until he was called by the captain or until Galoc came back.  He was
glad Galoc seemed the type to stay out all night.  If he had read her
correctly, she was going to do anything and everything a free person
with her own destiny was allowed to do on the Enterprise.  For all he
knew, she was pleasing a group of men somewhere else on the ship.  He
suspected, however, that she was more likely pleasing some women.  Who
knew?  Maybe both.

	  ***       ***       ***

     Lwaxana had had a long talk with Deanna, and she was concerned. 
Deanna had just started a steamy love affair with Dr. Crusher; that was
fine, but Lwaxana was an old-fashioned woman, and believed her daughter
should have sown her oats by now and found a man with whom to settle
down.  She didn't understand Deanna's reluctance to do so.  Well, the
doctor was a pleasant, attractive woman; if Deanna wanted her, who was
she to interfere?  But Lwaxana knew she would, if this went on for too
long.

     And then there was Captain Picard.  He was so damned repressed, for
goodness sakes.  She knew he found her attractive, and yet he avoided
her at any cost.  He had lied to her earlier, just to get away from her. 
That business he had had to do to get her off the Ferengi ship several
years back -- that had done it.  Any hope of having a little harmless
fun with him was destroyed.

     Lwaxana sighed and undressed for bed.  She slept in the nude, as
did most Betazed.  Lwaxana would have been comfortable in the nude
almost anywhere.

     The door notified her that someone was there.  Pulling the coverlet
up over her breasts, she called wearily, "Come in."

     Lwaxana was barely able to follow the next few events before they
had ended.  The door swished open, and before Lwaxana had the chance to
tell the computer to turn up the lights, a naked man was on top of her,
brushing the blanket away.  She gasped as he tried to kiss her and she
pushed him away while trying to read who it was.  

     "Computer!  Lights, now!  Now!"  She felt a penis slipping inside
her, and suddenly she caught the messages flashing through her
assailant's mind.

     "Jean-Luc!" she screamed.  "What on earth are you *doing*?"

     "I'm giving you what you want, Lwaxana," he whispered into her ear. 
"You do want this, don't you?"

     "Well, you certainly took your time about it," she said.  "And for
goodness sakes, you could have given me *some* notice! "

     Lwaxana tried to read him as he rode her hard and fast.  She
couldn't believe this was the same man who had run from her time and
time again.  She read a torrent of feelings and thoughts:  He had always
been attracted to her, but tried to repress it; he didn't want to have
a sexual liaison with the mother of a crew member; he was afraid she
would want more from him than just this.  Lwaxana did not understand why
she had never been able to read these feelings.  But she didn't care. 
It was probably because he resisted her that she wanted him so much. 
Well, she decided, it had been worth the wait.  He rolled onto his back
and lifted her onto him.  She rode him now, expertly, the way a fine
Betazed woman should love a person.  She touched his face, caressing his
cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids as his eyes fluttered shut.  When he
came inside her, she tensed with his pleasure and excitement, her whole
body convulsing.

	  ***       ***       ***

     Ztlaf slipped through the entrance to Picard's door as the young
woman he liked best.  She walked quickly to his bunk and snuggled in
beside him.  His arms opened to her as she kissed his neck.  

     "I did it, Jean-Luc," she said.  "Lwaxana Troi will never bother
you again.  She had no idea it wasn't you.  I placed the ability to
remember every moment in graphic detail in her mind, any time she thinks
of you.  She'll experience it just the way it happened -- the same
emotions, the same feelings.  She will even come every time.  She will
never chase after you again.  Once was quite enough."

     Picard laughed softly.

     "Ztlaf, you don't feel guilty about doing that, do you?"

     "No, because you asked me to, even though you originally told me
never to appear as a member of your crew, which I assumed also meant
you.  I will do whatever you ask, Jean-Luc, as long as it doesn't hurt
you or anyone else. "  

     "There are times when you can't avoid hurting someone," Picard
said.

     "Yes, I know.  But Amanda explained about weighing my decisions,
and she told me she feels I'm mature enough to make the right choices."

     "I feel a little guilty, Ztlaf."

     "I know, Jean-Luc.  But remember: she got what she has wanted for
a long time -- you.  You have what you've wanted for a long time -- to
be rid of her attentions.  She is happy."

     "But she thinks I made love to her.  She will treat me accordingly. 
And she's likely to tell Deanna."

     "I asked her not to -- or rather, you did, Jean-Luc.  Don't forget. 
Although Deanna can talk telepathically with her mother, Deanna is only
superficially able to read her mother, only slightly more so than she
reads others.  Lwaxana promised that she would keep your little fling a
secret."

     Picard sighed.  Though the edge was taken off his guilt by Ztlaf's
words, he still felt uneasy.  He was not a deceiver, a person who played
with people like this.  He hoped this would not come back to haunt him. 
Ztlaf stirred beside him and was gone.  He glanced around the room for
her light, but could not find it.  Suddenly, he felt her arms lifting
him into the air.  He asked the computer for some light, but still he
could not see her.  He felt her naked breasts pressing against him.  She
had made herself invisible.

     Ztlaf pressed her lips against Picard's throat.  She sank two
vampire-like fangs into his neck.  Picard felt it and his senses were
instantly in an uproar.  He knew that whatever Ztlaf did, she would not
harm him.  He relaxed in her arms, his naked body tingling with desire
for her.

     The fangs retracted.  Picard could not resist; he reached up to
touch his throat.  It felt fine; it wasn't even sore.  Her lips met his;
they were tangled up in one another -- legs wrapped around each other,
hands playing all over each other's bodies.  They were back on his bunk
now, rolling around in a sexual wrestling match.  They fell lightly
(thanks to Ztlaf) to the floor and hungrily tasted and touched one
another.  

     Finally, when Picard had made love to Ztlaf for a full hour, he
fell asleep in her arms, exhausted.  As he drifted off towards his
dreams (all extremely pleasant these days because of Ztlaf) he wondered
why Will Riker hadn't notified him about the Ferengi women.
Oh, Captain, My Captain! (Pt. VII)
     copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com
     

     
     "Jean-Luc, it's 07:00 said Ztlaf, touching his face lightly.  "Will
Riker will be here soon, and I want to talk to you about him before he
arrives."

     Picard's eyes opened slowly.  He stretched and reached out for Ztlaf. 
He rolled on top of her and slid inside her.  Since Ztlaf's arrival, he woke
every morning with the need for a quickie.  Ztlaf laughed and wrapped her
arms around him, pressing her lips to his ear, and brushing them lightly
against him, a soft, feathery touch which fueled Picard's desire.  He drove
himself deep inside her.  She wrapped her legs around his back, pushing him
close.  They moved together slowly, caressing each other.  

     "Jean-Luc," Ztlaf whispered, "when Commander Riker tells you what
transpired last night, do not be angry with him.  Though it will sound
terribly irresponsible, what he chose to do was the best thing he could do
under the circumstances."

     "Picard did not answer until he had come inside her and rested beside
her for a few moments, holding her and sweeping his fingers through her hair. 
Afterwards, they showered and ate breakfast.  Finally, he broached the
subject she so clearly wanted to discuss.

     "Are you going to give me an idea of what Commander Riker did, or are
you going to make me get it out of him myself?"

     "Last night, Will went to talk with the Ferengi, as you asked him to do. 
The apparent leader, Galoc, explained to him that there really was not much
more to tell.  She said she took sole responsibility for the murders of the
two male Ferengi who piloted the freighter.  The other women apparently tried
to stop her, or at least convince her she shouldn't do it.  The others are
still products of the only environment they have ever known, thinking the
lives they have led up until now were as fulfilling as was proper and that
they got everything they deserved."

     "And?"

     "Galoc became irritated with the others, and left to find something
better to do.  Riker tried to leave a short time after, because the Ferengi -
- at least a few of them -- made it plain they wanted to do something for
him.  Physically, that is.  They were frightened and confused, because he
grew so angry at their story."

     "Are you about to tell me that my first officer enjoyed a little
entertainment with the five Ferengi who remained?"

     "Jean-Luc, you're getting that stern, puritanical glint in your eye,"
Ztlaf half-teased.  "Don't do that.  Listen to me.  Riker will be here in
about ten minutes."

     "I'm listening."

     "Riker attempted to leave; some of the women began to cry.  They accused
him of being cruel.  He recognized, without any selfish motives on his part,
that if he left and ignored their attentions, he would have done them
tremendous emotional damage.  He understood that their self-worth is entirely
tied up in their ability to provide pleasure to a man -- that their skills in
that regard was the only yardstick of self-esteem they had."

     "So he bestowed upon them the benefit of his brand of --"

     "Jean-Luc, you're getting angry.  Listen to me.  Nothing else would have
worked quite so well.  Regardless of what happens to the Ferengi, their
government is still going to be upset that they killed Ferengi males,
renegade or not.  Additionally, they are requesting asylum.  If Riker hadn't
done what he did, they would clamor to go home, or worse.  One is potentially
suicidal."

     "Ztlaf, while the Ferengi are not a threat to us, we cannot throw the
prime Directive to the winds because we do not like their societal norms."

     "But selling their women into sexual servitude is not a societal norm;
keeping them for the men in their society is the norm.  While it amounts to
the same thing morally, it's not the same under the Prime Directive. 
Besides, Jean-Luc, you were never a stickler for absolutes.  Rules can't be
stretched too far, but Starfleet is not perfect, which means its rules and
guidelines are not perfect and therefore not absolutes."

     "Even so, Ztlaf, do you know how this will look if Commander Riker's
report is reviewed by Starfleet?"

     "It is not likely to come to that, Jean-Luc," said Ztlaf.  "I will do my
best to see that it doesn't."

     "Ztlaf, you should be careful not to meddle in the circumstances we find
ourselves in.  If you do too much, the Continuum may decide --"

     "Amanda told me that if I were seriously overstepping boundaries, she
would inform me.  This Ferengi situation is a small matter in the proverbial
grand scheme of things, Jean-Luc.  Let it alone.  It will work out."

     There was the electronic beep which indicated a person wishing to enter. 
Ztlaf disappeared as Picard called, "Come in, Commander!"

     "Good morning, sir," Riker said, his eyes averted.  "How did you know I
was --"

     "I had a little talk with Ztlaf just now, Commander," Picard
interrupted.  He noticed that Riker had circles under his eyes, but that he
seemed in very good spirits, which he was trying with difficulty to conceal.

     "Yes?" Riker waited, glancing at Picard and searching his face for
clues.

     "How did you spend your evening, Commander?"

     Riker knew Picard was already aware of just how he had spent the
previous night; he wasn't sure if he knew the why of it.  He had no idea
whether the captain was irritated, amused or disappointed.  He faced the
captain directly and answered quickly:

     "I spent my evening making love to the Ferengi, Captain.  All except
Galoc.  Before you say anything, sir, I would like the chance to explain."

     Picard saw Riker's nervous flush and his eyes, which had never looked so
uncertain in Picard's presence.  Riker glanced about the room.

     "Ztlaf explained everything and therefore saved you the trouble, Number
One."

     "With all due respect, sir, and with thanks to Ztlaf, I really think it
was my place, and indeed my duty, to explain my actions.  It is my place to
justify myself.  If I was unable to convince you that my actions were
calculated and fully thought out, then I had no business doing what I did."

     "Commander, you would have had a hard time convincing me.  I trust you,
Commander, but this, you must admit, is a highly irregular situation.  Ztlaf
felt I wouldn't give you much of a chance to explain.  She was probably
right."

     "just the same, sir --"

     "It's done, Commander.  I will schedule a discussion with Starfleet for
later today to ascertain what to do about the request for asylum."

     "Galoc says she will stand trial for the murders of the Ferengi."

     "I think under the circumstances we might be able to work out an
agreement with the Ferengi government so that that will not be necessary. 
They will be sufficiently embarrassed, I think, to allow quite a bit to be
swept quietly under the rug.  Have we received any response from them yet?"

     "No, sir.  It should be soon, however."

     "All right, Commander.  Dismissed."

     "Sir?"

     "That's it, Number One.  Unless you have something else to confess."

     Riker was startled to see Picard smiling.

     "Nothing more, sir," he said, smiling back.

     "Commander, discretion, please."

     "Absolutely, sir."

	  ***       ***       ***

     When Riker returned to his quarters to have breakfast, he found the five
Ferengi waiting patiently for him.

     "Good morning, ladies," he smiled, though somewhat startled.  He was
sure they'd be sleeping for most of the day.  It had been quite a night.

     "Hello, Commander Riker," said the young Ferengi, Clagara.  "We thought
you might need a morning pick-me-up."

     "You have got to be kidding," Riker laughed.  "I'm exhausted."

     They laughed, clearly taking his statement as a compliment.

     "We would like to wait for you in your quarters," said Clagara.  "This
way, when you are finished with your duties, we can -- relax you."

     "Rest is not what you will do for me.  Trust me," Riker said.

     "You don't want us any longer?" asked another Ferengi.

     "That's not it at all," he said, touching her ear gently.  He watched as
a flush spread across her face and neck.

     "I can't handle all of you every day.  Besides," he added as he beckoned
them to follow him into his quarters, "there are other people on this ship
who would appreciate your abilities."

     "But they won't do -- what you did for us," said Clagara shyly.

     "Why do you think I'm so special?" Riker asked.  "There are many beings,
both female and male, who are used to making sex an equal experience, where
each partner takes pleasure from giving and taking."

     "Really?"

     "Yes.  There are also people who are very new to sex, or who for one
reason or another haven't had much experience, or at least good experiences,
with sex."

     "So we could *teach* them," said Targala.  Riker recalled her mouth
around his penis; she had been particularly exciting.  He felt himself grow
hard.  He wanted to feel her around him right now.

     "Yes, you certainly could," he beamed at her.

     "Can you tell us where to find some of these newcomers to sex?" asked
Clagara.

     "There is a freshly graduated young man from the Academy, visiting his
mother, the ship's doctor while we are in dock here." said Riker.  "His name
is Wesley Crusher.  He is quite new to love-making.  There is also the ship's
chief engineer, Geordi LaForge.  He hasn't been lucky for quite a while.  I
think you ladies might be able to make them very happy.  But please, I just
ask one favor."

     "Do not tell them you sent us," said Targala.  "Their male egos will be
bruised."

     "Right you are," said Riker.

     "We will do that, Commander Riker," said Targala.  She turned to the
others.  

     "I will meet you in Ten Forward in ten minutes for breakfast," she said
to them.  "I will ask the commander questions about this Wesley and Geordi so
that we can find them."

     "All right," said Clagara.  She and the other three left.

     "You can just ask Guinan, in Ten Forward," said Riker.  "If Wes or
Geordi come in, she will point them out to you."

     "I did not really stay to get this information from you, Riker," said
Targala, kneeling before him.  "I see you are hard beneath your uniform.  You
cannot start your day in such discomfort."

     Riker looked at her.  He knew he shouldn't do this, but he remembered
her mouth, her quick and able tongue.  He remembered how she had given him a
body bath with her tongue after he had made love to all five of them.  Then,
her friends had joined her.  They massaged him and licked him, swallowed
mouthful after mouthful of his ejaculate.  He was surprised he wasn't sore. 
He was not disappointed with his ability to get hard even after the night he
had spent.

     He removed his uniform, his penis and testicles were hot with
anticipation.  He felt the pressure inside; he saw her in his mind's eye from
last night, her head bobbing up and down as she worked her mouth expertly,
her fingers applying just the right pressure on his balls.  She took him in
her hands now, encircling him with her fingers.  She worked him to a feverish
desire with her caresses, and finally, when he thought he was going to have
to beg her to take him in her mouth, she closed her lips around him.  The
feel of her warm tongue and hot breath sent a new rush of desire through his
groin.  He grabbed her head and pushed himself deep into her mouth.  He was
still amazed at the Ferengi ability to take him to the back of their throats
without any difficulty.  He was not huge, but he certainly had a good-sized
penis, and the Ferengi women handled it skillfully.  Her tongue pressed
against his shaft with fervent swipes.  His thighs trembled with pleasure; he
grunted low in his throat.

     "Yes, Targala, yes," he said quietly.  "You are the best I've ever had. 
Don't stop; please, don't stop."

     Targala felt a rush of pleasure run through her to her fingertips.  Her
ears were hot with excitement.  She felt Riker's body temperature rise
slightly; she could smell the change in his scent.  She worked her mouth all
over him, manipulating him towards his climax.  She remembered the taste of
him from the night before -- a much more pleasant taste than her husband's. 
She wanted to take mouthful after mouthful of him inside her.  She began to
jerk her mouth up and down vigorously.  She began a technique she had taught
herself, which she had never passed along to her friends.  She was able to
move her jaw muscles so that she could vibrate her teeth and lips.  Riker
felt the vibration, and gasped with pleasure.  his knees buckled and Targala
eased him to his knees, and lowered herself as well.  She cocked her head a
little to the side, making it easier for her to continue.  Riker's hands
gripped her shoulders; he drove himself to the back of her throat.

     "I'm coming, Targala."

     Targala did not know what "coming" meant, but she guessed its meaning as
Riker's hot desire turned to liquid and filled her mouth, coursing over her
tongue and teeth.  

     "Take it all, Targala; yes, yes," Riker panted, feeling as if he would
never stop coming.  Targala did not let go or stop the motion of her lips and
tongue.  She took everything he poured into her, then licked him for another
moment, until she was sure he was spent.

     "Targala," he murmured, falling exhausted to the floor and gathering her
in his arms.

     "Yes, Riker?" she smiled.

     "Call me Will, please.  And come back at lunchtime."

	  ***       ***       ***

     Wesley Crusher studied himself critically.  His mother walked in.

     "Wesley, you look very handsome," she smiled.  "Is there anyone in
particular you're trying to impress?"

     "No, Mom."

     Wesley, slightly embarrassed, looked closely at his mother.

     "Mom, may I ask you a personal question?"

     "Of course, Wes.  If I don't want to answer it, I won't."

     "Have you ever -- um, -- have you ever had an attraction to a woman?"

     "Yes, Wes; I have," she smiled, thinking how ironic it was that he
should ask her this now.

     "Why, Wes?  Have you met a man who interests you?"

     "I'm not sure," said Wesley.  "I mean, he -- it -- is a hermaphroditic
alien.  He's from the Gallos system.  They have sex only for pleasure; it's
a favorite pastime.  They procreate alone.  A group of people who choose to
do so live together and share the responsibility for raising the children of
those who live in their *tachda*.  That's the name of their home, their
family."

     "So, you're not sure that qualifies as being attracted to a male?"

     "Right.  He sounds like a male, you know, his voice sounds like a human
male.  He has the equivalent of a penis and a vagina, though he can change
the size of each."

     "How pleasurably convenient," said Beverly.

     "Mom!" Wesley said, shocked.  He blushed.

     "Well, it sounds like it could be fun.  Besides, taboos about gender
have been dead for awhile in our species, Wes."

     "Yeah, but you remember you told me how uncomfortable you felt when
Oden's host went from being male to female?"

     "That was my hang-up, not society's, Wes."

     "So, when were you attracted to a woman?  Did you have a --
relationship?"

     "I'm having a same-sex relationship right now."

     "Really?"

     "With Counselor Troi."

	  ***       ***       ***

     Geordi was tired and irritable.  He had briefly surveyed the female
civilians as they were transported aboard the night before; he had made it
his business to introduce himself to the ones he found attractive at the
welcoming dinner last night.  Not a single one had looked twice.  He sipped
at his juice, uninterested.

     "Hello," a woman's voice brought him out of his brooding stupor.

     "Hi."

     This must be one of the Ferengi females who had shown up on the bridge
yesterday.  Ensign Trinn had given him a lively account of the previous day's
excitement.  Geordi had never seen a Ferengi female.  He decided she wasn't
unpleasant to behold.

     "My name is Clagara," she said smiling.  Geordi noticed that three other
Ferengi women stood a little behind her.  Hope leaped inside him.

     "Please join me, all of you," he smiled graciously, indicating the
chairs closest to him.

     "Thank you.  Geordi, right?"

     "Yes, that's right.  How did you know me?"

     "We asked who you were," said Lisaga quickly.  She was sitting
immediately across from him.

     "You asked about me?  Why is that?" he smiled, hoping he was flirting
successfully.  At the back of his mind, he found himself wondering at the
confidence with which these women had approached him.  He had always assumed
Ferengi women would be quiet and unassuming because of their second-class
status on their worlds.

     "So, I bet you haven't seen many Ferengi females on this ship,"said
Clagara.

     "No, not until this morning, as a matter of fact," Geordi said.  "I must
say it is a very pleasant sight."

     "Thank you, Geordi," she smiled at him.  "May I ask you something?"

     "Sure.  You want to know what the visor is for, right?"

     "Yes; is it natural or synthetic?"

     "It's a medical miracle," said Geordi.  "I was born blind; this visor
enables me to see.  Better than all humanoids, I believe.  Probably better
than most known aliens."

     "Can you see what we look like beneath our clothing?" asked Lisaga,
leaning towards him conspiratorially and placing her hand on his hand.

     Geordi swallowed, trying to meet her steady gaze.

     "Yes, I can -- if I look."

     "Look," she smiled, crossing her arms over her chest to accentuate her
small breasts.  They all had the same breast size, it seemed.  Their breasts
also appeared to be of equal size, whereas human women had one breast that
was a little larger than the other.

     Geordi knew he had been invited to survey his table companions, but he
felt odd doing so in the crowded room.

     "Why don't we -- go back to my quarters?" he suggested.  Then, with a
start, he said, "I can't.  I have to go on duty in twenty minutes."

     "We can have you all ready for work in twenty minutes," said Lisaga. 
"We can work at your pace."

     Geordi willed his erection away.  His skin tingled with the idea of four
female bodies working on him.

     "I've got a much more pleasant idea," he said, his voice sounding
unnatural to him.  "How about meeting me in my quarters -- no, meet me on the
holo-deck at 18:30.  I'll notify you which one.  Where are your quarters?"

     "Have dinner with us first, Geordi," offered Clagara.  "18:00.  You will
need your energy."

     Geordi could do nothing but nod and smile.

     On his way to Engineering, Geordi made a quick detour to his quarters to
take care of his aching cock before reporting for duty.

	  ***       ***       ***

     "Hi, Wes," said Junisto, Wes's Gallosian friend.  "What are you planning
to do this morning?  Up for some holo-deck games?"

     "I was, actually," Wesley began, blushing.  "i, uh, talked to my -- I
mean, oh, let me start over, okay?"

     "Sure, Wes," Junisto smiled.  "What's the matter?  You seem really nervous."

     Wesley studied Junisto for the hundredth time.  He was about six inches
taller than Wes.  (Why did he insist on thinking of Junisto as a male?) 
Junisto's eyes were a beautiful violet color, like nothing Wes had ever seen
before.  Junisto's skin was a chocolate brown, silky to the touch.  His nose
was small.  His teeth were smooth, not pointed.  Gallosians ate food that was
always some form of mush, as far as Wesley was concerned.  Junisto had no
body hair that Wes was aware of, but he was aware of the bulge at Junisto's
left side, where his *simka* rested.  Junisto had once displayed his ability
to lengthen the *simka* from six to eleven inches.  He had shown Wes his
*talum*, a cavity just under his left arm.  When Junisto desired a child, all
that needed doing was for the *simka* to be placed inside the *talum* for the
night.  During that time, Junisto would be in a type of trance-like state,
which could not be disturbed for the safety of the growing child.  It was
necessary to be resting and calm.  The Gallosians looked upon sex as play. 
There were no unplanned pregnancies; placing one's *simka* into another's
*talum* or allowing the reverse could not result in the development of a
child.  

     "I'm just going to come out and say it, Juni," said Wes, swallowing
hard.  "I want to -- make love to you."

     "Make love?  Oh, yes; you told me about that.  As an expression of
caring and affection, humans have sex.  I care about you very much, Wes, but
please recall that I do not take the act seriously, though I enjoy it very
much.  It has no emotional meaning for Gallosians."

     "I understand.  I want you, Junisto.  I find you -- attractive."

     "Why are you so embarrassed, Wes?"

     "I don't know.  I guess because I haven't -- I'm a virgin.  Except for
lovers on the holo-deck.  All human.  Male and female, but all human."

     "Well, we're both virgins in that sense of the word.  Neither of us has
had sex with a human before."

     "You haven't?" Wes asked, surprised.

     "No, Wes.  I've had plenty of experience, but only with fellow
Gallosians."

     Wesley did not want to waste time considering what he was doing.  He
stripped and walked over to Junisto and began to undress him -- it.

     When they stood naked, Wesley's eyes rested immediately on the
Gallosians's *simka* which had thickened with Junisto's sexual desire. 
Wesley reached for it and lifted it and uncurled it gently.  He knew that the
*simka* was just as sensitive, if not more so, than the human penis.  As
Wesley touched it, Junisto lengthened it to nine inches, giving Wesley the
impression of a lengthening erection.  Wes smiled at Junisto's desire to make
this as "human" an experience as possible.

     Junisto carried Wesley to his bunk.  Wes activated privacy codes for the
door; he had mentioned his intention to invite junisto over this morning, and
his mother said she had plenty to keep her busy in sickbay, and that she
would notify him if she were planning to stop by.

     Junisto knew that kissing was a common expression of love and desire
among humans.  He had practiced it with humans on the holo-deck and knew what
to do.  He kissed Wesley deeply.  Wesley was aroused immediately, and
returned the kisses.  He explored Junisto's mouth hungrily, pressing his body
against Junisto's, feeling the hard *simka* against his stomach and abdomen. 
He wrapped his hand around it and began caressing.  Junisto began making
noises which were clearly sounds of pleasure.  Wesley panted with excitement,
sweat breaking out all over his body.  His erection pressed against Junisto;
he felt the taut excitement in his balls.  He knew he should wait, should
linger over these moments, but he couldn't.  He thrust himself into Junisto's
*talum* feeling it give readily to his penis.  He thrust himself into
Junisto, his heart pounding.  He felt a rush of exquisite sensation in his
stomach and drove himself faster inside Junisto.  

	"Can you tighten yourself around me, Juni?" he asked.

     "Yes," said Junisto, and Wesley roared with frustration and delight as
he came inside his friend.
     
"Don't worry, Wes," said Junisto.  "I still haven't been inside you.  By the
time I'm done, you'll be all ready to try again."

     Junisto pulled himself from beneath Wesley and took Wesley's wet, still-
hard penis in his mouth.  The feel of the smooth rounded teeth and the warm,
slightly rough tongue sent a thrill through Wesley.  It was unlike anything
on the holo-deck and did not even come close to his fantasies.  He moaned and
grabbed Junisto's head firmly.  Junisto worked his lips and teeth all over
Wesley's penis.  He reached around and slid all of his fingers -- four of
them -- into Wesley's anus.  Wesley stiffened briefly.

     "Relax; it'll hurt if you do that," Junisto said softly.  "Just relax. 
It'll feel great; trust me."

     Wesley felt his penis grow hot, his skin was prickly with heightened
sensation.  Junisto emptied some sort of natural lubricant inside Wesley's
anus, then spread his buttocks with one hand.  Wesley's breath came in short
gasps.  He was slightly afraid, but wanted this more than he had ever wanted
anything.  He had wanted Junisto for so long; they had never done anything
about their mutual attraction at Starfleet.  Now, that they had chanced to
run into one another at Starbase 152, Wesley was not going to let first-time
jitters ruin this moment.

     "Are you ready, Wes?  Remember, stay relaxed."

     "Fuck me, Juni," Wesley said.  "Please.  Now."

     Junisto was momentarily confused, decided that "fuck" was an archaic
slang word for the human sex act and drove his *simka* inside Wesley.  Wesley
shivered with the feel of Junisto riding him; his senses rang with the idea
of the two of them so close, giving one another such pleasure.  He gasped as
Junisto rode him moment after moment; there seemed no end to the incline
toward climax Wesley was experiencing.  He felt as though every second were
the last, that he would come too fast again and lose the excitement of this
wonderful act of sharing.  He heard Junisto's cries of delight, felt the
alien's smooth teeth digging into his neck.Junisto grabbed Wesley's
shoulders, and threw himself again and again deep inside the trembling,
moaning human.  

     "I've got a surprise for you, Wesley," Junisto whispered.  Wesley felt
Junisto's mouth suddenly close around his penis.  Wesley realized suddenly
that he was on his right side, Junisto was still riding him, but somehow, his
body was curled around and down so that his head lay between Wesley's thighs,
stroking Wesley furiously with his mouth.  Wesley hadn't known Gallosians
were skilled contortionists, but he didn't mind finding out.  Suddenly, he
felt as if his penis were being penetrated by small fangs -- it felt like
suction.  It was somewhat painful, but as Wesley calmed himself, he again
felt himself hovering on the brink of climax.  Apparently, Junisto had
activated something inside his mouth and was using it to manipulate Wes's
penis.  Junisto took Wesley's penis all the way into his mouth, including his
testicles, and closed his mouth around all of him, applying the suction,
while sending his tongue all around the shaft.  Wesley felt Junisto's tongue
curl around him, covering about half of him; it wrapped around him,
encircling him in its wet, spongy warmth.  Junisto sent his tongue into
spasms, squeezing tight around Wesley, then releasing.  Wes never knew when
the next squeeze would come.  He bit the blanket below him, trying to keep
his loud enjoyment to a level which would not attract attention.  Then, he
felt the rush of release as he came inside Junisto's mouth.  He came and
came; there seemed no end to his climax.  His body shook with pleasure and
relief.  Finally, he collapsed, exhausted, onto the mattress, his breath
coming in short, ragged gasps.

     "So," said Junisto, still full of energy.  "How was that for your first
time, Wes?"

	  ***       ***       ***

     Geordi had been in pain all day.  His head was filled with the four
Ferengi women, their sweet scent in his nostrils.  He couldn't wait for
dinner -- actually, he wasn't at all hungry; he just wanted to get them all
back to his quarters.  Finally, he was going to get some.  Given the time he
had waited, he mused, four women at the same time should just about make up
for it.

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Pt. VIII)
	  Copyright 1994 by Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com



     "Commander Riker to Captain Picard."

     "Go ahead, Commander."

     "Ambassador Slaag of the Ferengi --"

     "I'll be right there, Number One."

	  ***       ***       ***

     "Well, Geordi, we told you to eat; you will need your energy," teased
Clagara. 

     "By the way, this is Targala; she wasn't with us earlier."

     "Hello, Targala," said Geordi.  He was already struggling with an
erection.  He was terrified that he would come before anything happened, like
a damn virgin leafing through an ancient girlie magazine.

     "Don't worry too much, Geordi," said Targala, smiling.

     "We have hit upon a solution.  You will not need that much energy after
all.  We've been experimenting with the holo-deck, and we have a very special
night planned for you."

     "I'm counting on that," Geordi declared, trying to put bravado in his
voice.  He wasn't sure he had succeeded.

     "A question, Geordi," said Targala.  "May we remove your visor?"

     "Yes; I'm completely comfortable in the dark in familiar surroundings. 
But I must tell you that it is an ancient stereotype which ascribes
extrasensory compensations to blind people; the belief that such powers are
inherent in those who are blind is false.  At least for humans.  While some
blind people may find it worthwhile to develop extra-sensitive touch or
hearing, it is not a given."

     "That isn't our thinking at all," Clagara chuckled.  "We just want you
to be surprised."

     "Well, hit me with those surprises."

	  ***       ***       ***       

     Picard felt Ztlaf beside him, though she was invisible.  He felt
confident that he could handle this alone; he had been in worse, much more
delicate situations, but he enjoyed her desire to protect him.  It amused him
a bit, and reminded him that there were circumstances which might require her
advice or some minor manipulations.

     "Well, Captain Picard," said Ambassador Slaag, proffering his hand
solicitously.

     "I'm so honored to meet you.  Your --"

     "Ambassador, I have a ship which requires minor servicing, new civilians
to welcome, and a little vacation to tend to.  I do not wish to rush you, but
I would appreciate it if we could dispense with the usual formalities and
pleasantries and get to the heart of the matter."

     Picard was a little surprised himself at this breach of diplomacy, but
decided he simply was getting tired of such pretenses.

     "Oh, certainly, Captain Picard, certainly.  Well, the heart of the
matter, then.  Where are the insolent creatures?"

     "Ambassador, while I recognize your societal norms are not mine, you are
aboard my ship, and while that is so, I respectfully request that you discuss
other beings, whether male or female, Ferengi or not, with a reasonable
amount of respect."

     "Captain, you seem determined to make this difficult.  We are dealing
with the murders of two beloved --"

     "They are beloved now, are they?  They were renegades only several hours
ago."

     "Nevertheless, Captain, those men had families and children, village
communities to support."

     "I never realized the Ferengi were such altruists and providers for the
common good, Ambassador."

     "Well, you don't know much about us, Captain; that is clear."

     "Well, Ambassador, one thing I do know is that any attempts to hold the
Prime Directive over Starfleet's head will be wasted.  The Prime Directive,
as you know, has been interpreted as applicable to situations where we
encounter a culture or species far inferior to our own, and dictates that we
do not intervene or act in any way that would change their progress
significantly.  We both know, however, that the Ferengi are a highly
developed, civilized, technologically sophisticated society.  Surely, you
would not want to declare to the United Federation of Planets or to any of
its enemies that you are a primitive, wayward species."

     "Certainly not, Captain.  That would be most improper."

     "Indeed.  Ambassador, the Ferengi woman Galoc has accepted full blame
for the killings.  I have made Starfleet aware of this, and she will be
placed in a grueling rehabilitation program.  The others are requesting
asylum.  We intend to grant that request."

     "Captain, it would be splendid if things could be so easily solved. 
But, Captain, this will send a mixed message to our people.  We must punish
those who commit crimes against us, especially when misdeeds are perpetrated
by our own."

     "I fully sympathize, Ambassador.  But as it is, this little occurrence
has gotten quite a bit of publicity, and I believe a worse message would be
sent if you acted in any way to right this wrong at this time.  Spirits are
running high; all eyes are on you.  To wait is unfair to all.  No, I think
Starfleet's intervention here is best for all."

     "Captain, you are trying to --"

     "So, this is Ambassador Slaag." 

     A tall, raven-haired woman with almond-shaped, amber eyes, milky-white
skin and red lips and cheeks stood between them.

     "Well, my dear, where did you come from?"

     "Ztlaf, what are you doing?" Picard hissed in his mind.

     "Ambassador," said Ztlaf in her new form, "I must insist that you take
this token of our esteem.  Now, it is for no one except you."

     Ztlaf presented the ambassador with a heavy bundle of shiny bars.

     "For you, and only for you, Ambassador," she cooed, as her paper-thin
gown slipped, revealing large-nippled breasts.  She leaned toward the
ambassador and flicked her tongue across his left earlobe.  He flushed, and
reflexively reached for her breast.

     "My goodness, Captain.  This certainly -- changes things.  Such an
honor, to be presented with such a --"

     "Remove your hands from her, Ambassador.  Your gift has been bestowed. 
Now do not get greedy, or we will reduce the amount."

     Ztlaf had disappeared.  Ambassador Slaag stared at his hand, still in
the act of grasping -- nothing.

     "Where did she go?"

     "She has gone, Ambassador.  Is the exchange satisfactory?  Do you think
you will be able to convince your superiors?"

     "Oh, certainly, certainly.  We are highly reasonable, fair-minded souls,
we Ferengi.  We must be, or our legendary business prowess would not have
stuck with us all these years."

     "Good.  It was a pleasure, Ambassador."

     "Ztlaf?  What do you think you are *doing*?"

     "Jean-Luc, you know as well as I do that a matter this fragile required
a personal bribe to rid us of the ambassador."

     "Ztlaf, you cannot involve yourself in these matters.  What would have
happened were you not here?"

     "Something tragic and terribly sad, Jean-Luc.  Galoc would have suffered
tremendously -- and slowly."

	  ***       ***       ***       

     Geordi lay in a hammock of sorts; that is what it felt like.  He heard
the five Ferengi women bustling about him.  He heard them remove their
clothing, and tried to make out their whispered conversation.  But they were
talking in their own language, and it was no use.

     "We're ready for you, Geordi.  We hope you're ready for us."  

     Geordi was not certain which of them had spoken; he had not had enough
time to get acquainted with their voices.  He hadn't expected to be in a
position not to know which was speaking.

     "Geordi, whatever you feel, do not be frightened.  We promise, we will
not hurt you, and if anything becomes uncomfortable, you will let us know,
won't you?"

     "Uh, sure, I would think so."

     "Good.  We've only done this to each other, for the pleasure of our
husbands.  But we decided it was time to see its effects on a willing
recipient."

     "I can tell you to stop any time, right?" Geordi asked nervously.

     "Yes, Geordi.  And if for any reason, whatever it might be," the speaker
giggled, "that you find yourself unable to speak, nod your head twice,
rapidly."

     Geordi's heart began to thump.  His erection wilted.  What were they
going to do to him?  He wished he had told someone where he would be.

	  ***       ***       ***

     Picard was angry with Ztlaf.

     "Ztlaf, you seem to have very little faith in me.  You are taking
control of matters that I am able and willing to attend to.  I do not like
your intrusions when they are not requested, unnecessary, and frankly --"

     "How dare you compare me with him!" Ztlaf said angrily, appearing before
Picard as a medium-sized tigress.  Her ears lay back against her head; her
tail swished angrily from side to side.

     "If the comparison fits," Picard snapped, "live with it!  You are
beginning to behave like your interloping, arrogant, trouble-making father! 
And while we're on that disconcerting topic, I don't like the way you use my
thoughts against me!"

     "Oh, you don't, Jean-luc?  Why is that?  Do you prefer the cloak of your
even temper, that carefully controlled, reserved exterior?  That dishonest
mask?"

     "How dare you!  You are just like him.  You can't even face me as an
equal.  When you disagree, or when you feel you should decide how things
should turn out, you lord your Q abilities over me.  Come on, Ztlaf!  Are you
a coward like him?  Afraid of the battleground of equality?"

     The tigress hissed and disappeared.  Picard suddenly faced himself.

     "Now we're equals," Ztlaf/Picard said.  "no tricks, no extra powers or
strength.  What's the matter, Picard?  You don't want to fight yourself? 
Afraid of what you might learn?  Remember what our brother told us the last
time we went home?  Yes, we, Jean-Luc.  I'm the part of you that you hide,
that you are continually trying to control.  I'm your sexuality, your anger,
your frustration and your fear.  I'm your insecurity and your superiority
complex; yes, all of your extremes, Picard.  Come on.  Let's see what your
calm, rational, unfeeling facade can do against me?  You will find that we
can't live without one another, Jean-Luc.  You will learn that the reason you
and Q are constantly at odds is because you have a love-hate relationship
with him.  You each love the generous, principled part of the other, and hate
the baser side.  Q flaunts the latter to protect himself from feeling 'sappy'
emotions like love and friendship.  You force your best into everything you
do and say, ignoring feelings and more primitive aspects of your mind, even
when they could be of tremendous help to you.  You complement each other. 
Spiritually, you are one."

     "No!"  

     Picard lunged at his alter ego, his fist slamming his double right
between the eyes.  No sooner had he released the punch than he was on the
floor, his lip bleeding, his head swimming with pain.  He saw himself coming
at him and kicked out.  The impact sent Ztlaf/Picard scuttling a few feet.  

     "It's a simple matter of a love-hate relationship, Picard," his own
voice proclaimed.  "You and Q love and hate the same things about one
another.  You are each trying to cleanse yourselves of your baser sides, in
different ways.  But each of you is scared in the same way.  You're afraid of
being vulnerable, each in his own way.  Instead of learning to accept one
another as the other side of the same spiritual coin, you look for wholeness
while throwing half of yourselves away, at the expense of yourselves, and the
expense of the other, and at the expense of humanity."

     "Shut up!  You shut up.  You've been playing games with me all along. 
You're Q, aren't you?  There is no such thing as Ztlaf.  You BASTARD!"  

     Picard leaped upon his double; they wrestled together for endless
minutes, kicking, punching, cursing.  Suddenly, Picard saw that he was
grappling with Q.  At least, Q did not appear to be any more powerful than
Picard himself.  Their struggle grew loud and prolonged; neither could get
the upper hand.  Picard felt a familiar presence, and glanced about.  Ztlaf
stood in the corner, smiling.  He really was wrestling with Q then.

     "You let me go, Picard!  Amanda, Ztlaf!  Whichever of you is responsible
for this is going to pay dearly."

     Picard had his arm around Q's neck.

     "Let me go, you depraved, savage, human maggot!"  

     Picard was awestruck at the sudden realization that he and Q were naked. 
They grappled; Picard knew that one of them had to win; one had to conquer
for any progress to be made toward an end to this madness.  Ass soon as this
realization crossed his mind, Picard felt Q's body beneath him cease
struggling.  As Q sought to break free, Picard lunged inside him.  In his
mind's eye, Picard imagined a sturdy, stubborn thoroughbred he had broken in
as a youth new to horseback riding.  He slammed Q to the floor, as each of
them laughed and cried at the same time.  Picard felt himself enveloped in Q;
they seemed to be circling one another in a tornado of motion.  They zoomed
past one another, trying to grasp onto one another.  They screamed at one
another, hurling insults and apologies.  Picard found himself watching it all
from a place above.  He saw the two Picards becoming one, Q seemingly
sandwiched between them.  He heard Ztlaf's voice.

     "Do you understand now why Q makes you so angry?  He is your spiritual
mentor.  At the same time, he is learning about himself.  The Continuum
required that of him, but he didn't know it.  He despises me because I am a
reminder of what he considers his base side, his non-Q side.  He doesn't want
to accept my existence, because he is afraid of the emotional responsibility
and more 'human' aspects of his being.  He wants to love and protect, but he
recognizes that such feelings and desires make him vulnerable.  So he
responds with anger.  He treats you with anger and taunts you in order to
teach you.  He knows you will not accept the things you must learn willingly. 
The two of you are so alike; you just handle your fear of yourselves
differently.  In the end, you are very much the same.  And I love you both."
     
     "What are you trying to do, Ztlaf?  Is this some game you and your
father --"

     "Oh, stop it, Jean-Luc!  This is no conspiracy against you, something
cooked up as some mean-spirited Q trick!  It *is* the beginning of the end of
your conspiracy against your self.  Your whole self."

     "Don't you understand, Ztlaf?  Feelings, raw emotion, anger, insecurity,
even braggadocio -- they have their place, but not in the life of a captain."

     "They have their place, every one of them, in every aspect of your life,
Jean-Luc.  You cannot strike a balance without playing the extremes against
one another.  The good and the bad must find a common ground; they are not so
easily compartmentalized.  For instance, Jean-Luc, did you ever once, during
our love-making, consider that you might want to fuck?"

     "*WHAT*???  Why are you throwing that disgusting, demeaning word at me! 
It has no place in what we've shared."

     "Oh, doesn't it?  You've spent all our time together proving to yourself
what a fine, gentlemanly, considerate lover you are!  Thinking of me always,
never indulging in yourself.  I can please myself whenever I want, Jean-Luc. 
Think about that.  I don't need your penis, your tongue, your hands!"

     "Stop it!  Why are you saying this?  I gave up part of myself for you;
my crew, my friends.  They've noticed the changes."

     "oh, knock it off, Jean-Luc.  You haven't given up anything.  Everything
I've been to you, you've wanted.  All of it.  Look at yourself, Jean-Luc. 
Stop trying to play some role you think is proper for you to play.  What you
believe is bad about you isn't always bad -- and your goodness, your
perceived high principles and gallantry, stuff it!  It isn't always the
answer.  I see what you're thinking right now, Jean-Luc.  Come on; do it. 
You'll like it.  So will I.  In fact, you've wanted to do it since the first
time we made love.  Do it, Jean-Luc.  Are you man enough?  Are you human
enough and honest enough about it to do it, Jean-Luc?"

     Picard grabbed her naked form and flung her unceremoniously to the
floor.  He grasped her wrists with one hand and yanked her hands above her
head.  She grinned at him, her eyes still daring him, insolent in their
mockery.

     "What is it that is holding you back, noble captain?  You think you're
above such thoughts, such desires.  Don't kid yourself --"

     "Shut up!" he snarled, lunging on top of her.  His erection slammed into
her, in and out, a furious attempt at conquest.  The truth of all that had
been said, of all that had transpired egged him on.  He was angry; he was
upset; he was ecstatic with the feeling of release.  He could just be himself
-- no rules, no self-sanctions.  He plunged angrily inside her, his teeth
closed over her right nipple.  She howled with ecstasy, her legs wrapping
around him.  He released his hold and spun her over.  His penis was on fire
with need, but he ignored it for the moment.  He bound her hands and ankles;
he had no idea with what.  He laughed at her attempts to get free, knowing
full well that she could if she wanted to be free.  He looked directly into
her eyes when he had turned her over again.

     "You really need a good spanking, Ztlaf," he growled.  "But I'd rather
fuck you."

     "Of course, Jean-Luc," Ztlaf said in her father's teasing drawl.  "But
of course you would."

     Picard pushed Ztlaf's knees apart furiously; her legs spread, ankles
joined, she grinned up at him.

     "What's keeping you?  Or are you afraid of what you want, afraid of
losing control?"

     She began to laugh good-naturedly.

     Picard shoved his penis into her mouth.  

     "Laugh later," he snarled.  "You have some appeasing to do right now. 
And when I've decided you've made up for this afternoon, I'm going to FUCK
YOU, Ztlaf."

     "I'm happy to hear that, Jean-Luc," she said quickly, before returning
to her duties.  "You and I have been waiting for you to do so for some time."

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Pt. IX)
	copyright 1994, Christine Faltz, cmfaltz@panix.com


     Picard was exhausted, and now that his anger had passed, he was ashamed. 
He untied Ztlaf, not looking at her, and stalked away to sit near the door to
his quarters.  He had to think.  He kept attempting to explain it by blaming
Q -- the three of them in his life right now.  They had made him act this
way, to test him for some reason.  He would never have said such things, done
such things, without their influence.  But he knew that was not it.  He
remembered the times when, as he kissed, stroked or made love to Ztlaf, he
felt darker urges.  He remembered glancing away from her as images of making
love to others flashed through his mind, and he wondered whether Ztlaf would
be angry if he asked her to change into those people for his erotic
amusement.  On the fifth or so time he experienced such desires, she had
gently taken his face in her hands and directed him to look at her.

     "If that is what would please you, Jean-Luc, I will be anyone you want
me to be.  I won't pretend to take that person's identity, but I will take
their form.  So ask yourself what you want: the form or the substance?"

     He had blushed and left her, pacing his quarters.  She had tried to tell
him there was nothing wrong with him, that he was simply indulging his
fantasies.  

     Ztlaf got up and walked over to him.  She placed her hands on his
shoulders and looked into his eyes.

     "Jean-Luc, I know some of what happened here today shames, angers and
disturbs you.  I'm sorry for that, but I'm not sorry it happened.  It was
necessary.  There are situations which you will face in your life that
require you to know yourself completely.  Ideally, all humans should take
this journey, but you are one of the very few who can survive it and still
respect yourself for who you really are, not just who you want to be."

     He ducked his head and shrugged away from her angrily.

     "You leave me alone!" he snapped, though his voice was quiet.  "In fact,
leave me.  Now."

     Ztlaf's breath caught; she hadn't expected that.  But feeling his pain
and confusion, she had to obey.  She slipped into home form and eased herself
through the wall.  She felt sick suddenly, disoriented and suffocating.  She
realized that she was outside the ship, not in home form but in the human
shape Picard -- used to love.  This was impossible; she could not survive out
here in this form.  She did not have the abilities.  She looked around,
thinking that Amanda must be with her.  But she saw no one.  Tears fell from
her eyes as she huddled at the side of the Enterprise.  She thought perhaps
she had failed.  If Picard wanted her gone for good, she could not accomplish
what must be done, and if that was the case, Picard would die.  She knew that
she always had the opportunity to change her mind when the future that she
knew of presented itself.  But she had determined her course of action long
ago, and she would not change her mind, unless of course, Picard made the
change for her by banishing her from him.  She cried fitfully, and tried
desperately to return to home form, panic-stricken at the idea of not being
protected against the star-filled void around her.  She glanced up, and saw
that a beautiful collage of lights and shapes was dancing before her.  She
had never seen anything like it, and did not know how to explain it.  If she
were with Picard, she would have asked him to find out what it was.  Picard
. . . the tears began again, blinding her, keeping the beauty before her from
her sight.  

     "What's wrong with me?" she screamed, "How can I be out here alone, in
this form?  Amanda, Amanda, where are you?"

     Ztlaf felt the warmth of human arms around her.  Startled, she wiped her
eyes on her hands and turned, expecting to see Amanda.

     "He'll ask you to come back.  This transition, this period of thought is
necessary for him.  He will forgive you, as he always forgives me.  The truth
bothers humans, but in the end, they cannot deny it -- if, of course, they
are honest and principled, as is our Captain."

     Ztlaf sobbed openly now, her relief and aching need for Picard's respect
mingling.  

     "Come on now; these tears are useless.  They will not stop the hurt, and
they won't make him forgive you any faster.  Watch the light show.  It's the
best one I've put together in quite a while.  I'd like someone else to see
it."

     Ztlaf laughed and turned to witness the first gift her father had given
her -- the second.  He had given her life, after all.

	       ***            ***            ***

     Geordi strained at the leather cuffs at his wrists and ankles.  He had
never done anything like this before.  He felt two pairs of hands massaging
him.  The massage felt wonderful, and was the only aspect of this scenario so
far which kept him relatively relaxed and calm.  He was only half-aroused,
his penis reflecting his fear and uncertainty.  Then, a warm, tight mouth
closed around him, and immediately his body welcomed it by extending deeper
inside her.  Another mouth grazed his neck with a light, bare touch.  It did
feel inviting, but he was still frightened and couldn't rid himself of the
need to tell them to stop.  But he didn't.  He wanted to be touched and
kissed; it had been so long.  At the same time, he recognized that he was not
going to look back upon this night with happy memories.  

     The holodeck door groaned open, and a sharp, authoritative female voice
snapped, "There you all are!  Still performing your slave's occupation, I
see."

     "But he is *our* slave, Galoc," one of the masseurs giggled.

     Geordi heard quick footsteps.  Suddenly, squeals of protest ushered from
the women working on him, and one by one, hands and mouths disappeared.  A
gruff, but soft touch, brushed his cheek.

     "He doesn't like it, you little fools!" the original voice scoffed.

     Then there was a babble of Ferengi.

     "He's hard because of fear, not because of lust for you prisoners --
yes, prisoners.  You're still in your little hovels, pleasing men with sex. 
Here we are, being granted asylum, and you can find nothing better to do with
your sorry lives."

     Galoc untied Geordi and replaced his visor.  He didn't even glance at
the five Ferengi women who stood about the room, naked and scowling at Galoc. 
He heard one weeping and turned to see Clagara covering her face with her
hands.

     "Let me take you to your quarters, sir," said Galoc.  "Where do you
reside?"

     "Deck Two," Geordi said quietly.  He wasn't sure what he should say to
the other women.  

     "I'm sorry, ladies," he said quietly, not looking at them.  "I am just
not -- interested in that."

     "They should have *asked*," said Galoc.  "No one ever asked them; you
would think they might have learned something."

     Geordi followed the angry Ferengi woman to the turbolift.  When they
arrived at his quarters, Geordi thanked Galoc and entered his room.  

     "Sir?" she said meekly.

     "Please call me Geordi.  What is it?"

     "I know why you didn't like it, Geordi," Galoc said.  He beckoned her
inside, looking away from her.

     "I've just never -- done anything like that.  I'm sure if I had, with
someone --"

     "With someone you cared about, with someone with whom you shared secrets
and tender moments of a nonphysical kind.  Then you might have enjoyed it."

     Geordi stared at her.  He was a little embarrassed.

     "You are not looking for sex, Geordi," said Galoc.  "You are looking for
affection, and if sex is part of that affection, you would love that.  But
you are not interested in empty ecstasy."

     Geordi cleared his throat and looked away again.

     "Yes.  You're right, Galoc.  That's your name, right?"

     "Yes.  I will leave you now."

     "No, no, that's not necessary.  Have you had dinner?  I'm starving."

     "Well," she paused, considering.  "I am hungry.  But I don't want to
impose."

     "No imposition at all.  I'd -- rather not be alone after --"

     "Yes, I understand," she said quietly, smiling thinly.

	       ***            ***            ***

     The door beeped.

     "Come in."

     "Mother, you've been spending an awful lot of time in here by yourself,"
Deanna said.  "I'm having trouble reading anything from you.  You always tell
me you're busy.  But I don't see any evidence of a busy schedule.  What are
you brooding about?"

     Lwaxana laughed genuinely.

     "Deanna, darling, trust me.  I *am* busy, and not brooding.  No, Little
One, I am most *definitely* not brooding."

     Her mother's glowing face was infectious.

     "Well, then why are you alone all the time?  We don't even have meals
together.  We're only docked here for three more days.  I would have thought
you would want to take me into one of your bizarre holodeck programs."

     "Don't have the time, sweetheart.  But I will have dinner with you.  How
about now?  I'm famished."

     "Mother, it's nearly 2100.  I ate three and a half hours ago."

     "Oh, well, I suppose I lost track of the time.  Well, have hot
chocolate, dear, and I'll eat dinner."

     "Mother, you're undoubtedly very contented; I can see and feel it.  But
you are acting somewhat elusive.  You usually insist on thought speech with
me.  You haven't tried it since you arrived."

     "Can't a mother keep some secrets?" Lwaxana teased.

     "Mother, you're not exactly a privacy beast."

     "I'd rather hear about you than talk about me, Little One.  How is your
Beverly?"

     "I hate it when you speak of lovers as if they are possessions, Mother."

     "Oh, don't be so naive, dear.  Whether you admit it or not, they possess
you in a fashion and you possess them.  That's probably why you won't settle
down with one person.  You're afraid of that idea.  It can be very
stimulating, if you find the right one, darling."

     "Oh, Mother, for goodness sake."

     "So, darling, what will it be?  Just hot chocolate?"

     Deanna looked closely at her mother.

     "You're keeping something from me, and it isn't bad news.  It's
something having to do with a man.  Spill it!"

     "Darling, this preoccupation with love and sex is really no good for
you."

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Ztlaf!"

     Picard was still shaken, but no longer angry.  He knew that there was
something much more complex hidden in the words and actions which had been
said and which had transpired earlier.  He also knew that he had hurt Ztlaf. 
He hoped she wasn't gone forever.

     "Ztlaf, please.  I would like to talk -- about this.  About today."

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Go to him."

     "Why should I?  He deserves to wait.  I had to wait for him to compose
himself.  Why should I be at his beck and call?  Let him wait and worry."

     "Oh, grow up!  This vindictiveness is so human; you'd think you were
Terran and not a shape-shifter.  It certainly doesn't become your Q
heritage."

     "Oh, and I suppose you aren't the least bit vengeful, right?"

     "This isn't about me; it's about you."

     "What a typical thing for a parent to say to a child who has just made
a good point."

     "Oh, go to your Captain, you little brat!"

     "Oh, Daddy dear, you flatter me.  Only a short while ago, I was your
monstrous mistake."

     "I don't make mistakes, Ztlaf.  You're confusing me with your Captain."

     "I assure you; that will never happen."

     "Not in the sense of your filthy little mind, my dear.  But in another
sense, it already has.  Think about it."

	       ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf appeared suddenly before him.

     "Jean-Luc?"

     "there you are.  I thought you'd given up on me."

     "We're even.  I thought you'd given up on yourself."

     Picard took her in his arms.

     "What are you trying to convey, you and your father and Amanda?  Why do
you have to send me into an emotional whirlwind to get your points across? 
If the lessons are so important, why not just explain concretely?"

     "Because that is too simplistic, Jean-Luc.  Concreteness must be
exemplified, in order that the abstraction may be understood.  That is the
way the human mind works.  Even your mind, superior to most others."

     "You're preparing me for something, aren't you?"

     "Obviously, Jean-Luc.  But enough of that.  You have the right to know
about me in more detail.  I'm going to fill in the puzzle."

     "All right.  But can we get more comfortable first?"

     "You mean you haven't had enough of me?"

     "I've had enough of you to last me a few lifetimes," joked Picard.  "But
living life to the fullest is too easy for some.  I like a challenge."

     "Never fear, Jean-Luc.  You will have many challenges."

     They undressed and cuddled on his bunk.  As she kissed him lightly and
then passionately, she filled him with knowledge of her past.  When she had
finished, his mind was spinning.  As she watched him through half-closed
eyes, he rose and dressed.  

     "I'll be back in a few hours," he told her.  "I want to fill Will in on
what you've told me, and I want to make a log entry afterwards."

     "I'll be here when you get back, Jean-Luc."

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Geordi, how did your date go?" Wesley whispered as they sipped tea in
Ten Forward. 

     "Very disconcerting, Wes.  I didn't like it at all."

     "I told you not to --"

     "Wes, no offense, but you're not exactly the most experienced aboard the
Enterprise."

     "No offense intended, Geordi, but neither are you."

     Geordi scowled, but seeing Wes's teasing smile, he grinned.

     "When you're right, you're right.  Anyway, I'm back at square one.  I
want a relationship, not just hot sex."

     "Sometimes, hot sex can make quite a difference," Wes said, thinking of
Junisto.

     "Yeah, but I've experienced both, and I am ready for something very
steady and long-term.  Maybe even marriage."

     Lwaxana Troi and her daughter entered.  

     "I've gotta go, Geordi," said Wes suddenly, blushing.

     "Why, Wes?"

     "I just do.  Okay?"

     Geordi followed Wes as he hurried from the room.

     "Wes?  What is it?"

     "Promise you won't say anything to anyone.  Anyone, Geordi!"

     "Okay, okay.  What's up?"

     "I have a crush on -- Mrs. Troi."

     "So what?  She's attractive -- and from all appearances, quite
amenable."

     "Are you crazy?"

     "No.  Why does it embarrass you?  She's a nice-looking, sensual woman."

     "And she's older than my mom."

     "So what?"

     "And," Wes added, "she probably knows how I feel.  That's why I left. 
I can't face her.  It really stinks when you have a crush on someone who can
read your thoughts."

     "Saves a lot of time, I'll bet," Geordi teased.

	       ***            ***            ***

     Data stroked Spot behind the ears, and wondered if Spot recognized
differences between Data and others.  Did the cat know that he was
"artificial" in its own primitive way?  He had noticed the response of other
pets to him -- the pets of civilian families he had encountered.  While they
appeared to have no problem with other beings, many attempted to flee from
him or snapped and swiped at him.  Data supposed Spot was familiar with him,
and since he had cared for the cat since its kittenhood, the cat did not care
about Data's differences.  Interestingly, Spot was uncomfortable around
humans.

     Data's door beeped.

     "Come."

     Ensign Trinn, a newly-assigned Academy graduate, entered.  She was
twenty-five, with curly dark hair and ice-blue eyes.  She was tall and
athletic, and Data knew that since her assignment, she had become quite
popular.  She had been late on two occasions already when required for duty. 
She had what some humans called a "reputation" for sexual exploits.  Data did
not understand the types of comments made about her by those with whom she
had had intimate encounters.  Some derided her; others complimented her, and
still others seemed inordinately concerned with where she was and with whom.

     "Hello, sir," she smiled.

     "Hello, Ensign Trinn.  May I be of assistance?"

     "I'm sure you can, sir," she smiled.

     "Please elaborate."

     "Sir, I have been told that you are capable of having sex."

     "Yes, that is correct.  I am fully functional and programmed in many
methods of pleasuring."

     "Then I was right," Ensign Trinn said, walking over to stand beside him. 
Spot leaped from his lap and scuttled into the furthest corner.

     "Do you wish me to demonstrate?" Data asked.

     The young woman laughed.

     "Most definitely, sir.  You are not busy now, are you?  i was told by
Lisil Mayarka that when you are off duty, you sometimes 'pleasure' those who
request it.  I understand that you cannot always oblige because of your
duties.  But I am free now, and if you are, I would love to experience sex
with you."

     "I am not required to be anywhere at this time, so I am available."

     "Great."

     "Since we will be having what for most constitute intimate relations,
you may call me Data."

     "Thank you, sir.  Data.  And you should call me Laurene."

      Data noticed that she was already visibly aroused.  Her nipples were
erect; her breathing was shallower than it would be were she relaxed, and her
skin was flushed.  Her face was full of anticipation.

     "I am curious, Laurene." said Data.  "I like to ask those who make this
request why they do so, since although I have had a relationship before, I
could not satisfy the need for spontaneity or the genuine emotional
attachment and dependence many require for a successful relationship."

     "Have you been told that the idea of having sex with an android is
extremely arousing, that because of your superhuman strength and mechanical -
- nature, you are no doubt able to provide extremely satisfying sex?"

     "Yes.  Is that what has brought you to me?"

     "Most definitely."

     "Let me know now what you like to do and have done, Laurene.  I will
then be able to pleasure you without interruption to establish parameters."

     Laurene laughed.

     "I enjoy many things, Data.  I want to be catered to; I want you to try
as many different things as possible, until I cannot take any more.  I want
gentle sex and rough sex; I want to make love and to be touched.  I want you
to try many things.  The first thing I want you to do, Data, is pretend to
take me by force." 

     "Are you suggesting that I pretend to rape you, Laurene?"

     "Yes.  I have always wanted to experience that; it's one of my
fantasies.  But others usually hate the idea, either because they don't like
pretending to be violent towards another, or because they think it is not
normal for me to want that."

     "Why would anyone want that, Laurene?  Being raped is accepted as a
crime of power, not a display of sexuality.  It is forced invasion of an
unwilling victim.  How can I pretend to do something which by its very
definition requires a specific intent and a specific state of mind on your
part?"

     "Data, no one wants to be raped, in the real sense of the word.  I am
not trying to trivialize that crime; it's a terrible thing.  I know that you
will not harm me.  But I like rough sex.  I want to pretend that I do not
wish it.  I want you to pretend to rape me.  It's like a holodeck program,
Data.  Lieutenant Worf often kills enemies on the holodeck.  Many people I
know have raped on the holodeck.  Where there is no real crime, there is no
real victim."

     "You are right that I will not harm you, but what you are suggesting
makes me think you want me to harm you -- that is, pretend that my intent is
to harm you."

     "Data, please.  I can only ask you for this.  I didn't come here to be
judged for my fantasies.  I came here to feel good, and to feel that my
fantasies are okay.  I will not be hurting anyone, and you will not be
hurting anyone.  If you do this, it will just add to my pleasure."

     "I will try," said Data, still considering.

     He walked over to her and took her wrists gently.

     "Rougher, Data.  Don't worry about me.  A few bruises won't hurt.  I
will have them fixed in sickbay, and will say it happened during exercise."

     Data checked his programming.  He did not want to hurt her, but he had
had similar requests, though never using the word "rape" specifically.  He
supposed there were no more objections available than those which could be
made to people who desired to be dominated in other ways.  He quickly decided
upon a course of action, and grasped Laurene by one arm.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Ztlaf tells me there are only thirty shape-shifters left, scattered
about the universe," Picard said.  "There used to be a planet of shape-
shifters within the Beta quadrant, an apparently noble, pacifistic race. 
They had sex only for purposes of procreation.  Then, the Borg were sighted,
coming for them.  Word had traveled back to them from shape-shifters
clandestinely exploring the universe.  They were highly advanced
technologically, Will.  They would travel in starships which were barely
visible; they looked like debris.  They were never bothered by anyone, and
were a xenophobic race, in that they wanted to be left alone to live their
lives and learn all they could without entering into treaties or negotiations
of any kind.

     When they received word of the Borg (this was approximately thirty years
ago) they panicked.  They realized that if the Borg assimilated them, it
would make the threat to the universe much worse.  Could you imagine Borg as
they once were, with the capability of changing form instantly?"

     "I would rather not, Captain."

     "Indeed.  The Planet's leaders gathered and decided that they should
self-annihilate -- kill themselves, planet-wide suicide -- if the Borg
continued their course and came for them."

     "The whole planet was directed to commit suicide?"

     "Yes, Number One.  At this point, Q arrived -- yes, the Q we know so
well.  He had asked the Continuum to assist him in intervention, to get the
Borg on a different course or to move the shape-shifters out of the way."

     "This is our Q?"

     "Yes, I know.  At any rate, the Continuum refused, saying it was too
much interference to intervene on behalf of an entire race.  They said that
if suicide was the best they could do, they weren't much use to the universe
anyway."

     "And we thought the Continuum reasonable."

     "Q decided to take matters into his own hands.  He sought out the
highest-ranking shape-shifter in the council, and convinced her that the
children of the planet's leaders should be spared.  He assured her that he
would protect them, and see that they would be placed out of danger.  She
agreed, but said that she herself had no children, and wanted to make her
self-induced exit with the knowledge that her name and memory be carried by
offspring.  Q coupled with her, resulting in Ztlaf.  Q took Ztlaf with him
when she emerged.  Subsequent to that, but before the Borg arrived for
assimilation of the race, Ztlaf's mother coupled with her long-time
companion.  She decided at the last minute to leave another child.  She
called for Q, but the Continuum refused his request to bring her other child
out of danger.  By this time, Ztlaf was half-grown and was learning about her
Q abilities.  She begged Q to save her little brother, whose birth sack was
still clinging to its mother's body when she committed suicide.  The Borg
arrived to find a planet devoid of life, and left.  Fifty shape-shifter
children were left behind, in a cloaked tunnel prepared by Q.  Only fifteen
survived, including Ztlaf's little brother.  Q saw to it that each surviving
shape-shifter was found.  Ztlaf's little brother, whom she has never met, is
a security chief on Deep Space 9.  He believes he is the only existing shape-
shifter."

	       ***            ***            ***

     Data's arms closed around Laurene Trinn.  She had instructed him not to
take her struggles seriously.  She pushed futilely against him.  She was
excited, feeling the hard chest and the strong arms preventing her movements. 
She stopped resisting for the moment, as Data roughly ripped her uniform from
her.  He laid her somewhat roughly on the floor and placed his right leg
between hers, spreading her legs.  In second, he himself was undressed and on
top of her.  She felt his penis pressing firmly against her, and she twisted
to the side, surprised that she was able to move from beneath him. 
Obviously, he was not trying too hard; she knew her strength did not match
his by any means.  He pulled her back down by a handful of hair; she gasped,
but did not appear to be in any pain.  He held her wrists in his left hand,
and drove himself in and out furiously.  He noticed that she was wet, and
found himself wondering again how a human, particularly a woman, could find
this exciting.  He would have to consult Counselor Troi about this, though he
would not reveal who had asked him to do this.

     He saw that Laurene was gasping; it was from pleasure; he knew the signs
of arousal.  She gripped his shoulders, wrapping her arms around him and
pulling him close.  She dug her nails into him and sunk her teeth into his
neck.  He realized she would not have done this so hard were he not an
android.  He would have to repair himself after this encounter before
reporting for duty.

     "Data," Laurene panted, "do something else, anything else.  I'll tell
you if I don't like it.  Just make me feel this way for a good, long time."

     Data pulled out of her and began massaging her arms.  He watched as her
eyes closed.  She turned onto her stomach, and he swept his strong, warm
hands over her neck, her shoulders, her back.  He felt her relax under his
hands, as grateful noises erupted from her.  When she felt completely
relaxed, he turned her over and massaged her face.  She seemed almost asleep,
but he knew she wasn't.

     Laurene's eyes were closed.  She felt the massage stop, and wondered
what would be next.  Suddenly, she felt his hands spreading her legs and his
tongue on her upper thighs.  She could not believe how real he felt -- he
felt like a very strong man.  But she had a feeling that was about to change.

     Data knew that many women enjoyed his tongue between their legs.  He
supposed this was no different than using the tongue inside the mouth
something known as "deep kissing".  Certainly, since invasion of the vagina
and stimulus of the clitoris caused excitement in most women, it made sense
that any means of stimulus would cause arousal.  Data knew that he could move
his tongue faster than any being with whom Laurene had had intimate
encounters.  He worked his tongue around her clitoris and inside her, going
slowly at first, not wanting to build to quickly into what he knew would
result in utter exhaustion for her after only a few moments.  He began
intensifying the speed, and spread her with his hands, digging inside her as
he increased the temperature of his tongue.  He heard the tell-tale gasp,
felt the tremors beginning in her legs.  Her hands grasped his head, and she
pushed against him, squeezing her legs against his ears.  He began to apply
his tongue in a circular, rapid motion against the vaginal walls, while
causing his fingers to vibrate against her clitoris.  She let out a cry,
slapping her hands to her mouth.  Her entire body convulsed several times,
and Data felt the increase in moisture.  He leaped on top of her and entered
her again, and began moving his penis in a circle inside her.  The rest of
his body simply pressed against hers, while he moved himself clockwise, then
counter-clockwise inside her, slowly increasing the speed.  She was gaping up
at him, sweat beading her face, her breath ragged and shallow.  Data began
moving back and forth inside her, while the circular motion continued.

     "I think I could do this forever," Laurene moaned, pressing her lips to
his.  Data thought that this was probably just a hyperbole born of sensual
pleasure, and was assured that she did not mean this literally.  He opened
his mouth to her, and felt the urgency in her tongue as it met his.  He
kissed her deeply while He continued moving his penis inside her, --
circular, up and down, in and out.  She writhed beneath him, squeezing her
legs around his lower back, her arms around his shoulders.  She came again
and again, and he felt her nearing the limits of her energy.  He began
slowing his pace, now rubbing the length of his body against hers, pressing
her to the floor.  She moaned, arching her body against him, gripping him
tightly.  He worked himself so that it felt as if he was ejaculating.  Then
he continued to lay on top of her, keeping his penis hard inside her.  Within
a few moments, she was asleep.  He removed himself from her and dressed.  She
would sleep through the night.
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (pt. X)

     Copyright (c) 1994, Christine Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com


     "Father?  Father?"

     "Why are you calling me into your lover's lair?"

     "Because we have things to say to one another."

     "I already know what you want to know and want to say.  The
answer is no, of course I wasn't going to kill you -- at least, not
in the sense of taking away your existence.  I was simply going to
reduce you to a mere shape-shifter."

     "You don't have enough faith in me?  You were just going to
strip away my power, without any second chance.  I could have used
my Q abilities for far worse.  I was never irresponsible as a
child, like many Q -- like you, as a matter of fact."

     "I thought Amanda explained everything to you."

     "Amanda?" Ztlaf shouted.

"You just don't get it, do you?  First, you raise me and supposedly
prepare me, never telling me that you're my father until I'm grown. 
'Because the Continuum made it a condition of your being
protected.'  You risked far more saving me and the other shape-
shifter children.  You denied me knowledge of my past, simply to
make your life easier.  Are you ashamed of me?  Perhaps you still
view me as a mistake, a disgraceful result of a moment of
altruistic weakness."

     "Oh, don't try to analyze me, you half-breed brat!"

     Picard's chair flew across the room and smashed into Q's human
form.

     "You *do* hate me.  Maybe you should just kill me!  Go ahead,
Almighty Father.  You blessed me with your ability to create, now
how about a demonstration of your ability to destroy?  I'm *yours*
after all, right?  So you own me; dispose of me.  Make your life
easier."

     Ztlaf sobbed, her human form shaking.

     "You used the Continuum as a shield.  You didn't want to admit
to having coupled with an 'insect race' -- that phrase of which you
are so fond.  I've heard you denigrate species after species."

     "My dear, throwing objects at me is terribly futile."

     "It may be futile, but it makes me feel better."

     "Does it?"

     Q walked over to her, smiling, his brown eyes twinkling with
mockery.

     "You -- you bastard!"

     Ztlaf kicked him in the groin and slammed her right fist into
his throat.

     "My dear, you are in a much better position to claim that
dirty title.  And, if you haven't noticed, Amanda isn't hear to
toss me to the floor."

     "I HATE YOU SO MUCH!  I'm yours, damn it.  I'm your daughter."

     Amanda appeared beside Ztlaf and wrapped her in her arms.

     "You really can be so cruel," she told Q, in a frequency Ztlaf
was incapable of hearing.

     "Don't you understand why she is so upset?  You play head
games with her.  When you told her, finally, that you were her
father, she couldn't cope with it.  You should have told her much
sooner, the hell with the Continuum.  Since when did you hold It in
such high regard?  You always think you're right, and damn the
consequences.  Ztlaf is somewhat correct.  Why won't you admit it,
if not to her, then to yourself?  You are a little ashamed.  But
more than that, you know you made the wrong choices with respect to
your daughter."

     "She didn't leave because she hated the idea of me as her
father?  She left because -- oh, why do I have to talk about this
with you?  You're younger than she is, for My sake."

     "Because you have to acknowledge it.  She was wholly unaware
that you were her father until she was grown.  To her, you were her
spiritual and intellectual leader.  You protected her from those in
the Continuum who wanted her abandoned.  You always ignored her
queries to know what had happened to her Q father.  What happened
to her was natural.  How do you think it is for her to face you,
when you know so much?  You can read her every thought; she can't
read yours.  So all she is aware of is that you know what she
thought about you.  She has no idea of the extent of your regret. 
And to add insult to injury, you made that remark suggesting she
think about the similarities between her desire for your love and
her desire for Picard's.  Had to throw in another cut."

     "Oh, stop it; you're so cynical for one so impossibly young."

     "Damn it!  Look at it from her point of view for a change! 
Here, I'll make you look."


     Q saw everything as if it were happening in the present, right
before him.  His daughter Ztlaf avoiding him whenever he looked for
her, ignoring his angry calls for her.  She had just reached formal
adulthood, where her abilities were fully bestowed; her training
theoretically complete.  She began requesting another mentor.  Q
knew why; he had known for some time, but part of him found it
amusing, another part found it gave him a sense of power even he
found astonishingly delicious.  Of course, he felt ashamed as well,
and knew that he only had himself to blame.  He remembered the
first time he saw what had happened.  He was calling for Ztlaf, and
he knew where she was, but she had to respond when called, by him
or by any of those in the Continuum; it was the cardinal Rule.  As
he approached, he connected with her mind in an attempt to gauge
how best to deal with her disobedience.

     The images were sharp and shockingly intense.  Ztlaf's mental
energies were focused on one point as she molded her autoerotic
fantasy.  This was something all Q did, fairly frequently.  Q
masturbation was an intense self-indulgence; it took all of one's
energy.  He came upon her thoughts and whirled in mental alarm. 
Her erotic images centered around him: his eyes, his mental aura,
his energies.  Because she was only half-Q, the fantasies were
somewhat crude -- dealing more with sensuality in the physical
realm rather than the mental.  He remembered snapping away from
her, not wanting her to feel the connection.  But it was too late. 
She had noticed, and the mental retreat she made left her violently
ill for months, after which she had disappeared.  She had searched
the galaxies feverishly, obsessively.  She had run from the mental
whip he had lashed across her energy just before he disconnected. 
She had run, the statement ringing over and over in her mind, in
her being.  Hot guilt and sheer terror dogged her as she searched
for solace.  The words, again and again;

     "STOP THAT!  DON'T DO THAT, ZTLAF!  I'M YOUR FATHER!  i AM YOUR
FATHER!"

	       ***            ***            ***

     "I thought you said there were thirty shape-shifters scattered
about, Captain."

     "Yes.  Six live on a planet in the Gamma quadrant, together in
a self-sustaining commune.  They have produced fifteen children
amongst themselves.  They are the only ones who are aware they are
not alone.  Ztlaf, of course, knows, but she is not really one of
them, because she is half-Q."

     "You tell me you think they are preparing you for something."

     "Yes, Will, I am sure of it; Ztlaf confirmed that much.  But as
is usual, they can't give away too much."

     "It certainly is intriguing.  How much should we tell
Starfleet?  The little revelation they forced on you isn't exactly
accepted as a means of communicating profundities."

     "I will prepare a thorough, somewhat distorted report, Number
One."

	       ***            ***            ***

     Data accessed his internal schedule and decided that because
he did not have to report for duty for seven hours, he would
prepare himself for a dream sequence.  Laurene slept peacefully as
he carried her to his bunk and covered her.  He would dream
standing; it made no difference to him.  Data ran a quick diagnostic
of his systems and prepared the dream subroutine he had discovered
only a short time ago.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "You may call me Laurene.  You may call me Laurene.  You may
call me Laurene."

     Ensign Trinn's voice echoed eerily.  Data saw himself entering
her roughly.  Suddenly, a smile crept to his lips, and his hand
slapped Laurene across the face.  Her head lolled to one side; her
hand snaking up to grasp at her swollen cheek.

     "I wanted you to feel *good*, Data," she said, her voice
getting lower, in both frequency and pitch.  

"I wanted you to feel.  If you could feel, Data, you would know
what I want."

     The voice kept deepening, and the persistent echo of "You may
call me Laurene" slowed, until the last syllable faded and . . .

     "You may call me Lore . . . you may call me Lore . . . "

	       ***            ***            ***

     "You should have recognized it," Amanda said.  "Part of you
saw it coming, and yes, part of you liked it."

     "Shut your filthy mouth!"

     Q turned into a ferocious-looking beast with yellowish-green
fur, huge red eyes and sharp, spiked teeth.  His paws were huge and
fell onto Amanda's shoulders; Ztlaf was completely unaware.

     "Oh, those antics don't scare me any more!" Amanda scoffed. 
"You always lash out when the truth smacks you where it hurts most
-- the equivalent of a heart you hate to admit you possess.  You
know why Ztlaf searched for Picard all those years.  You told her
about him.  To her he symbolized all that was good about you.  She
didn't start out looking for a lover; she set out to find a man who
would care for her, in whatever way, but one who could need her
emotionally, as you never appeared to.  She knew of the risks, that
we would eventually find and sanction her.  But you, not she,
created the chain reaction.  You could have prevented it.  We all
know she was destined to play a role in Picard's tutoring.  But it
happened too soon.  And not only are you annoyed that she brought
about a premature reckoning with Picard; you are jealous because he
did not withhold anything from her.  When you came to kill her, or
at least, that is what she thought -- it was the final betrayal. 
Again, you allowed your fear, your mistake and your shame to hurt
others to protect your own ego.  And you continue to hurt her.  You
tease her with that display of caring earlier today, then you hit
her with the sharpest wit you have, in the most hurtful ways.  She
is more ideally Q than you; all of her motives are noble; she has
great perception and a clear conscience.  Her only mistake was
allowing you to make her feel ashamed.  You could have helped her
through it -- you could have found her easily enough and channeled
her love in a more constructive manner.  But no, you were so
horrified with what you saw.  It was your fault; you were
everything to her -- her friend, her confidant, her security, her
teacher.  She looked to you for guidance about everything.  How
many times did she ask you about her father?  How many times did
she cry at night, believing the Continuum was so ashamed of her
existence that no one would acknowledge her?  And you knew all
that.  You have such a generous heart; why couldn't you extend it
to your daughter?  She is the only one of her kind in the universe. 
That is terribly alienating; believe me, I know what it's like."

     "Shut up; would you just go?"

     Amanda acquiesced, leaving Ztlaf with a feeling of peace and
strength.

     "I'm -- sorry, Ztlaf," said Q, sitting beside her and taking
her hand.

"I -- was -- wrong.  I -- made a mistake.  I can't take it back. 
Well, I could, but it would take a lot of work to get the universe
back in order again."

     Ztlaf turned to him, calmly but angrily.

     "You allowed me to -- think about you like that, to believe
that you were in love with me, and that that was the reason you
took care of me.  I felt so special.  The only explanation was that
you loved me; you didn't take that kind of interest in Amanda.  You
spoke many times for me, always defending me at Continuum meetings. 
The looks you got, and I got.  And worse than you knowing, *they*
all knew.  They were all privy to the big joke -- Ztlaf wants
Daddy!"

     Q flinched and blinked rapidly a few times.

     "I imagine -- that felt -- humiliating."


     "You don't have to imagine it.  You know what I've felt, what
I've been through.  Fine.  It happened.  Even improving my
insignificant past would screw up the universal order of things. 
I suppose I should be flattered.  But even now you seem to take
great joy in hurting me."

     "I do not want to hurt you, Ztlaf," Q said quietly.  

     "You do a fantastic job of doing so, however."

     "I am omnipotent; I'm not perfect."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Ztlaf.

     "All right.  I love you."

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Lore!"

     "Well, my dear brother, Data!  So sad that the chip that would
open the world of emotion to you was destroyed.  Didn't even risk
trying it, did you, brother?  I didn't know an unfeeling hunk of
junk such as yourself could be such a coward!"

     "I did not want to risk the possibility that I would acquire -
- negative emotions such as yours.  I did not want to risk losing
my conscience for the sake of gaining ambition at the expense of
others, particularly my friends."

     "oh, how perfectly pseudo-human of you, dear brother!  But
don't you miss the feelings you had in the short time you were with
me?  Remember how it felt when I left you with those young Borg. 
You'll never feel that way again, Data.  I was the one who could
have made you enjoy the little encounter you just had.  Then you
could have *enjoyed* it.  Guess what, dear brother?  She would have
liked it even more if you had responded to her.  But you'll never
be able to feel sexual pleasure again, will you?  Remember how you
begged me, Data, to give you feelings again when you were getting
out of control and getting sentimental about your disgustingly
inferior humanoid friends?  And again, Data, I invite you to
remember the feeling of sensuality, of sexual arousal.  Not any
more; you're just the Enterprise's sex toy.  Let's have a go at the
machine, shall we?"

     Lore's laughter filled Data's head.  Suddenly, Data
experienced an odd sensation.  His face felt warm; his artificial
pulse quickened; his jaw set and his fists clenched.  He felt that
feeling again, the first one he had ever experienced -- anger.

     "I bring you a gift, dear Data.  I want you to feel one last
time, to ensure that you don't forget me so easily.  I wouldn't
want you to forget that you killed your own dear brother, the only
other android.  What would our father say?"

     "I think Dr. Soong would recognize the necessity of your
disassembling."

     "Data, you are so naive.  A parent loves its child
unconditionally.  The worst faults can be forgiven a child.  It
would break Dr. Soong's heart to know that you are the one
responsible for my death."

     Data tried to end the dream subroutine, but he couldn't.  His
attempts to run diagnostics failed.  He was trapped, his brother's
voice echoing in his head, Lore's face sometimes disappearing and
reappearing as the peaceful, smiling face of Laurene.

     "You'll never feel that way again," Lore guffawed, winking.  

     "Data," Lore's voice screeched in a sarcastic imitation of
Laurene's, "Data, the first thing I want you to do is take me by
force."

     Data felt the sensation of anger again.  He saw himself stand
and walk towards Lore.  Data punched Lore, and the face before Data
immediately changed to Laurene's.  Data thought that it was a
trick; Lore was trying to make him angry.  The sensation
intensified.

Data lunged and grabbed Lore by one arm, dragging him to a bunk --
his bunk?  Yes, this was his room on the Enterprise; Spot was
nowhere to be seen.  Data punched Lore again, and Laurene's voice
cried, "No!  Stop!"  Data grappled with Lore.  They wrestled for
long moments.  Data was confused; Lore's hard, cyborg form became
soft and supple, Laurene's firm breasts heaved in her attempts to
extricate herself.

     "No!  Stop!  Don't rape me!"

     "Come and get me, brother dear.  You're not getting angry, are
you?"

     Data tore at Lore's clothing.  His hands felt a woman's
breasts; he grabbed at one roughly and fastened his mouth firmly
around the other, sinking his teeth into the warm flesh.  Laurene's
scream and Lore's jarring mirth spun in Data's mind.  Data forced
himself to focus on Lore.  Lore's body reappeared beneath him, his
face crimson with laughter.  Suddenly, hatred welled up inside Data
-- at least, this must be hatred -- or jealousy, or both.  Data
looked into Lore's eyes -- so full of feeling -- bad feeling, but
feeling nonetheless.  This was the brother who had tried to kill
Wesley, the brother who had sent the Borg after the Enterprise. 
This was the brother who brought the crystalline entity close
enough so that it found Federation settlers more easily, destroying
whole colonies and many lives.  This brother had used Data's desire
to become human against him.  He had fed him with negative
emotions, and blackmailed him by using the new experiences to mold
Data into a weapon against the Federation, against the Captain and
Geordi.  Data rammed his elbow into Lore's stomach and wrenched
Lore's arms above his head, pinning them there.  He spun Lore onto
his stomach, resulting in a sharp, cracking sound as Lore's
"wrists" broke.  How could that be?  That could not . . .  Data's
rational musings left him as the dark feeling rushed at him again
through Lore's laughter.

     You can't hurt me, Data; I'm dead!  You killed me, Data.  You
killed me."

     Data felt an odd sensation.  It felt hot and menacing, cruel
and unyielding.

     "No one wants to be raped.  It's a terrible thing."

     Laurene's voice echoed in his mind as he jabbed both elbows
down hard on Lore's back.  He twisted out of his uniform and felt
the pressure of his penis pressing against Lore's buttocks.  Data
heard a strange sound as he plunged inside Lore.  Lore was
screaming, but there was something else.  Data realized he was
laughing.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Mom, I'm going to the holodeck for a bit," Wesley said.

     "All right, Wes.  But don't be too late."

     "Yes, Mom," Wes said grumpily.

     He hurried to Holodeck 3, checked that it was not in use and
entered.  He was extremely restless; his young, eager, seemingly
omnipresent erection seemed to scream for release.  He stripped,
calling, "Computer, run Wesley Crusher, Program LT-2."

     A lovely Betazed spring day formed before Wesley.  Unfamiliar
trees fringed a small lake.  Wesley waded into the cool water and
knelt, the shock of the cold easing his erection somewhat.  The
fire still burned inside him.  He felt a tug at his ankle and
Lwaxana Troi -- a holodeck simulation of Lwaxana Troi -- burst
through the water's surface, her mouth closing over Wesley's half-
erection.  Wesley panted and gripped her shoulders, his body
tensing with pain.  He wanted to make love to her, wanted to know
just how sensual she could be.  Her sensuality was intoxicating;
she seemed to tease them all with it whenever she visited.  He was
ashamed of this need for her; she was so much older, so much more
experienced.  She wasn't even his type; he couldn't imagine that
they shared any common interests.  He just wanted her; that was the
whole of it.  Some potential, he thought somberly, thinking of all
that he had been told by his mentors, both at Starfleet and on
other worlds.  Even he, the supposedly gifted, brilliant Wesley
Crusher, could hunger for something as primitive as empty sex.  AT
least he loved Junisto as a friend; they had shared so much and
would continue to do so, no matter whether their liaison continued. 
But this desire?  Where had it come from; what was it that drew him
so often to this holodeck program, both on and off the Enterprise? 
When he masturbated lately, it was always her -- Lwaxana Troi, her
smiling, teasing eyes.  He imagined her hands would be slow,
sensual and cool, her tongue well-used to deep, exploring kisses. 
He imagined that though she might not be as agile as a young lover,
she would be able to give him what no other could  she could read
his mind.  Wesley shivered with the thought.  Could she read his
mind from a distance?  Could she, wherever she was now, read him?

     "Yes, my dear, but for goodness sake, stop feeling ashamed of
yourself."

     Wesley spun, then dropped to hands and knees, hiding himself
beneath the water.  His mouth went dry.  He stared at her, then
rolled his eyes this way and that.  His face burned hotter than
he'd ever felt it; his heart hammered within him.  His head swam
with shame and he was sick with embarrassment.

     "Now, now, dear, it's perfectly natural.  Have you any idea
how many young men your age have thought such things about me?"

     Lwaxana stared at her likeness behind him.

     "Well, I must say, I like your vision of me very much.  I'm
not quite as firm, but I'm sure you won't mind."

     She lifted his face to look at him.  He swallowed, trying to
keep his voice steady.

     "Mrs. Troi, this is just -- idle fantasy; I meant no offense. 
But you know, I came here to be alone -- for privacy.  You weren't
supposed to -- you -- I thought --"

     "Oh, come now, Wesley; we all know how smart you are.  You
know that my daughter Deanna can sense the mood of all who are on
the Enterprise, and can at times sense the emotions of those
communicating with the Enterprise.  I am full-blooded Betazed.  I
am a telepath, not an empath.  Besides, dear, I'm very flattered. 
It's not easy impressing handsome young men such as yourself at my
age."

     "but you don't understand, Mrs. Troi.  I can't -- I mean, what
would my mom think?  I could never face her.  And Counselor Troi. 
I was content with my holodeck program.  It's really unfair of you
to do this to me.  You know how embarrassing this is for me."

     "Yes, Wesley, I am aware of that.  But regardless of whether
I showed up, you would have kept right on feeling guilty and
ashamed.  And for what?  No one has to know.  I am no longer
capable of becoming pregnant, but I'm not so ancient, my dear boy,
that I am willing to pass up opportunities such as this?  You're a
very attractive young man, and very -- imaginative."

     Wesley flushed brilliantly again.

     "Oh, come, come, stop that now."

     Lwaxana knelt before him and brought him into her arms.  She
was wearing a translucent robe, which fell off her shoulders into
the water.  Wesley was surprised at how good she looked naked.

     "Oh, I keep myself well, my dear, so as not to disappoint
interesting young men such as yourself."

     "Please, don't do that."

     "Do what?  Read you?  Oh, that's exactly what you want me to
do.  Even now, you can't help bringing up your thoughts about me,
can you?"

     Part of him was angry at her merciless teasing, but another
part of him was excited at the prospect of finally receiving
everything his mind wanted, the instant it formed into a coherent
thought.

     Lwaxana began to kiss him, slowly bringing them down into the
water.  Wes thought that he had asked the computer for cool water;
it was not so cool any more.  They lay on the sandy bottom, the
movement of their bodies sending ripples across the water.  Lwaxana
was very passionate, Wesley noticed.  She moved her mouth rapidly
about him, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his neck, his
cheeks again, his eyes.  She stopped occasionally to kiss him
deeply; her hands ran up and down the length of his body, sending
shivers of excitement dancing about on his skin.  His erection
ached with need, and Lwaxana's hand closed about him, sliding up
and down the shaft in a brisk, tight grip.  He gasped, gripping her
to him. pressing his lips to her neck.  She drew him up against
her, so that his back was to her and she wrapped her arms around
him and used one hand to knead his testicles and the other to tease
his penis with alternating strokes and squeezes.  She slid back on
her feet, until they were at the water's edge.  She slipped from
beneath him with surprising dexterity and straddled his shoulders
as his thoughts caressed her mind with their ache for her scent and
her taste.  He buried his tongue inside her, his hands squeezing
her thighs with urgency.  She had never had this particular
technique performed quite this way, and she was amused.  She tried
to keep from smiling, while also attempting to keep her balance. 
Her legs trembled with the sensation.  She looked down into his
face; they still held a glint of fear and shock.  She felt a
familiar desire calling to her; she was well-acquainted with this
one.  She moved nimbly and slid onto him, pumping herself
rhythmically against him.  Her hands sought his chest and she
massaged it with just the right amount of pressure.  She moved on
top of him, in a semicircular motion, squeezing her vagina tight
against his hardness.  He grunted; she knew he would come soon. 
She saw his need and flipped effortlessly onto her back, pulling
him along with her.  Wesley, in the frenzy of an impending orgasm,
grasped Lwaxana's arms tightly and thrust them to the sandy shore. 
He lay tightly against her, his legs spreading hers further.  He
drove himself the last few times with fast, hard plunges,
remembering to move himself so that he rubbed against her clitoris
with each thrust.  She gasped beneath him; her body shuddered. 
That was all it took; the look on her face, the feel of her
deriving pleasure from his body; the heat in his own body -- Wesley
gritted his teeth against the cry that tried to force itself
between his lips.  His body spasmed and he came, filling her body
with his semen and her mind with his own pleasure.
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (Pt. XI)

     Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     Data checked Laurene as soon as the dream sequence ended.  She was
uninjured.  For a moment, he had been concerned that he may have been
influenced by the dream and caused her harm.  He left a note on the computer
console for her, informing her that he had to take care of an important
errand.  He asked the computer quietly for the whereabouts of both Geordi and
Counselor Troi.  Both were in their quarters -- asleep, Data supposed.  But
he wanted to speak with them; he was not comfortable either with Laurene's
requests of a few hours ago or with the occurrences of his dream.

               ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf looked incredulously at Q.  His eyes imparted warmth and complete
sincerity; his smile was loving, with no trace of mockery.  She realized that
she suddenly *felt* his love; he was sharing his tenderness towards her with
her, allowing her to see the images in his mind.  She saw him holding a
bundle of iridescence in his hands protectively, arguing with the Continuum. 
She saw herself as a young child, experimenting with her shape-shifting
abilities, Q watching her closely while attending to what in his perspective
as Q should take precedence over caring for a dependent, half-Q child.  But
there was no trace of resentment or condescension in the way he looked after
her.  He was indulgent and giving, and interestingly, a reluctant
disciplinarian.  Ztlaf knew that he could have fed whatever images he wanted
to her, but she was certain, absolutely certain, that she was seeing the
truth.  He had leaped about the universe, making sure that the shape-shifter
children left behind were found and nurtured properly by those who found
them.  He was careful to avoid contact with them -- though he did run into
her younger brother on Deep Space 9; Odo had not been pleased with their
encounters.  He risked strong sanction by the Continuum because of his
zealous conviction that his daughter should be permitted to stay with him,
and should be allowed to keep her Q abilities.  He did undergo doubts about
this belief, hence his willingness to "kill" Ztlaf's Q essence when Ztlaf
disobeyed strict orders, but he struggled painfully with the potential
consequences of such action.  The Continuum had finally determined that she
would have to relinquish her Q energy at a certain point in her life.  Ztlaf
only knew the barest details of this requirement, but she knew that sacrifice
loomed in the near future.  She was terrified of the significance of giving
up so much of herself, but it would be necessary to save Picard's life.  She
would have three choices when the time came -- to become a mere shape-
shifter, losing her immortality and her "link" to Q and the rest of the
Continuum, to sacrifice herself entirely or, should neither of these options
appeal to her when the time presented itself for her decision, she could
continue as she was.  The price for the latter was much too steep, however. 
Not only would Ztlaf not be able to live with her decision, she knew that she
would lose Q's respect and that the fate of the United Federation of Planets,
and perhaps even the entire universe, would be jeopardized.  Picard would
have to die.  Picard's well-being was required in order for the future of
most species to unfold in positive directions.  The alternatives were mind-
numbing to consider, even for Q.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Ztlaf?"

     Ztlaf snapped back to the present, breaking her connection with her
father's mind.  Q was no longer beside her, but she felt his loving farewell
before turning her full attention to Picard.

     "I apologize, Jean-Luc," she smiled, "I'm afraid I was somewhere else."

     "I hope it was a pleasant trip."

     "One's happiness with a given place and time is often entirely up to the
being involved, Jean-Luc."

     "A statement to overwhelmingly complex for me at this hour, Ztlaf.  I'm
extremely tired."

     "Well, then," she said, standing beside him.  "Get into bed and I'll
send you into your dreams in a most pleasant way."

     "Ztlaf, I fear I am not up to the task, in any sense of the word."

     "I see you're not too tired to joke, Jean-Luc.  Do not concern yourself;
all you need do is relax and close your eyes.  I'll do the rest."

     Picard stripped completely and immediately lay down.  He sighed,
stretched and closed his eyes.  He felt his muscles relaxing within an
exquisite massaging warmth.  He knew Ztlaf was not touching him, but was
washing away his body's aches with a mental salve.  The dull ache at his
temples slipped away quickly.  He then felt Ztlaf atop him; she straddled his
waist and applied a strong, marvelous pressure to his shoulders.  His mind
was awash with her thoughts, an act of love and trust she offered frequently. 
He felt the hot, electric rush of her pleasure at the feel of his broad
shoulders beneath her hands.  He saw her pleasure flicker across his mind,
burying itself into his psyche, sure to release sensual, blissful dreams.  He
felt her body change -- she was apparently rubbing the whole of whatever she
had become around him, his body melting into a completely relaxed state as
she worked the soreness and tired ache from his bones and muscles.  He
noticed his erection as he hovered at sleep's yawning void.  He slipped
through, as the feeling of a hot, devouring mouth sucked at his penis, his
fingers, his toes, his nipples, his ears and his neck.  Everywhere was soft
heat, pulsating and comforting.  The feeling licked at his body and his
spirit, cradling him in a blanket of pleasing images and sensations.  He
entered sleep's cave, the sudden darkness a welcome relief, a safe, soothing
embrace.  He enjoyed the kiss of a slightly chilled breeze, the sweet breath
of a night at sea filling his nostrils and seeping into the pores of his
body.  Warm, gentle waves rocked him towards his dreams.  The sound of the
surf faded as he entered sleep fully.  Beside him, Ztlaf snuggled about him
even closer, clasping his body and his mind in a warm, loving connection.

               ***            ***            ***

     Beverly yawned sleepily as the slow awareness of waking moved towards
her.  She turned slowly and quietly, slipping her arm around Deanna.  Behind
her, Worf growled in his sleep.  She had no idea whether he was chasing an
enemy or attacking a lover with his hard-edged, no-nonsense love-making. 
Beverly smiled at the memory of Worf's hands holding her against the floor a
few hours earlier.  he had seemed to touch her in places so deep inside that
she hadn't known existed; she had come again and again, Worf's ability for
seemingly tireless exertion exhausting her in minutes.  Still, the Klingon
had plowed on, forcing her into a dizzying vortex of multiple orgasms until
she was certain she would pass out.  His mouth seemed to devour her insides
when they kissed, the low, strangely feral growls both exciting and
frightening.  Meanwhile, Deanna had bucked and moaned above her, Beverly's
head resting between Deanna's knees while Worf used one hand to probe her. 
At times, Beverly's need for air overwhelmed her, and she would struggle to
pull away from Worf's hungry mouth.  At these times, Worf would stretch above
her to indulge in Deanna's musky warmth, his tongue tasting her with hot,
furious strokes.  Deanna shrieked with pleasure at these unexpected attacks,
so loudly they all feared they would be heard, but in actuality, cared
little.  Now, finally, she listened to the calm around her, her body hot and
bruised by Worf's savage sensuality.  She felt the pool of his semen between
her thighs where it had leaked from her during her much-needed nap.  Worf and
Deanna slept soundly on either side of her, the former's snores reminding her
vaguely of his earlier noises.  The door chimed.

     "Deanna, the door!" Beverly shook Deanna forcefully.  "Deanna!"

     Within thirty seconds, all three were clothed, though each was far from
any appearance of professionalism.  Worf and Beverly slipped quickly into the
alcove used for the shower field, and Deanna called wearily, "Come in,
please."

     "Counselor," Data said, looking as apologetic as she imagined he was
able, "I am sincerely sorry to have awakened you at such an inconvenient
hour, but I must speak with you.  I have brought Geordi with me.  I felt he
might be able to lend some assistance should we need to investigate my
positronic pathways."


     "Why, Data?  What has happened to make you believe that you are in need
of diagnosis of any kind?"

     "I have just come from my quarters after experiencing a particularly
disturbing dream sequence, Counselor.  I had been planning to speak with you
about something entirely different much later today, but after the dream, I
felt it would not be advisable to wait."

     "All right, Data.  Start from the beginning -- if, that is, you feel the
other subject about which you wanted to speak has any connection whatsoever
with your disturbing dream."

     "Thank you, Counselor.  Approximately four hours ago, a newly assigned
crew member came to my quarters, requesting a sexual encounter.  As you know,
I have often fulfilled this request for both members of the Enterprise crew
and civilians who were curious to experience sexual pleasure with an
android."

     "Go on."

     "This individual requested that I take her by force.  When I asked
whether she meant that she wanted me to pretend to rape her, she answered in
the affirmative.  I found myself -- uncomfortable with her request.  Though
I have had requests for rough sex, I have never been asked to pretend a
criminal violation against someone.  She also desired that I ignore her
struggles, informing me that it would be most pleasurable for her if I
subdued her, and then force penetration."

     "Data, it is normal for many individuals to have fantasies about
committing or being raped.  The mind for most is a safe harbor where one can
experiment with images and ideas that are not necessarily accepted, or even
are criminal in the physical world.  There is nothing wrong with it, as long
as the person doesn't require irreparable physical injury to become aroused,
or needs that particular environment in order to become aroused at all."

     "I do not understand, Counselor.  Although I did my best to carry out
the individual's wishes, I was not -- comfortable -- doing so.  Additionally,
my subsequent dream was most troubling, not only in and of itself, but it
incorporated my discomfort of my encounter into its formation and execution. 
While I recognize that events in the realm of one's conscious experiences
often spill over into dreams, I am quite -- disturbed -- with the negative
and violent dream I experienced."

     "Tell us about the dream, Data.  Before we go further, however, I must
ask my visitors to leave, unless you desire them to stay.  Worf, Beverly."

     Data cocked his head questioningly to the side as Worf and Beverly
emerged, as tired and rumpled-looking as Deanna.  Geordi's mouth dropped open
and he averted his face swiftly towards the floor.  

     "It does not matter if they stay, Counselor," Data said, his momentary
interest apparently forgotten.

     "No, Commander; I insist that we leave," Worf said, obviously
uncomfortable.  "Doctor?"

     "Yes, Data, I think that since you clearly intended that Deanna and
Geordi be your chosen -- advisers -- in this matter, we will leave."

     "Thank you, Doctor."

     "All right, Data," Deanna said as the door swished shut behind Beverly
and Worf.  "Tell us everything."

               ***            ***            ***

     Wesley entered the room quietly.  His mother's quarters had the feeling
of being empty, but he thought she was probably sleeping soundly.  He
showered quickly and slipped into bed, the feel of Lwaxana's hands and mouth
imprinted with jarring clarity on his mind.  He drifted toward sleep,
exhausted, the hand that stroked at his penis becoming more and more
intermittent.  He heard his mother's laughter, apparently from far away. 
There seemed something foreign and forbidden about the sound.  There were
other sounds, and another voice that reminded him faintly of Lieutenant Worf. 
But his thoughts were a congealing mass, running through his mind confusedly. 
He drifted off toward hot, sensual dreams.

               ***            ***            ***

     Lwaxana Troi showered and climbed into bed, her heart still racing from
the night's formidable exertions.  She was moving on in years, she told
herself, a bit sadly.  Just as quickly, her mind grasped at the Crusher boy's
heated need for her, his starved fantasies pulling at him with urgent,
persistent tugs.  She hadn't planned on going to him.  But her recent
obsession with her one precious night with Jean-Luc was a little sinister,
and her evasion of her daughter's queries earlier that evening had unsettled
her.  She had gone to the boy not only to remove his shame and quench his
extreme physical thirst, but to assure herself that she was capable of giving
and taking physically.  She had succeeded in both, and felt assured that her
graphic, omnipresent memories of Jean-Luc's body and the pleasure it had
brought to her were just that -- wonderful memories -- and that she was not
doomed to lonely nights filled with that one encounter, a lost cause to any
future lover.  In fact, her ability to recall her night with Jean-Luc seemed
to enhance her libidinal responses, which had always been formidable in and
of themselves.  With a satisfied sigh, Lwaxana rolled onto her side and fell
asleep quickly.

               ***            ***            ***

     Q was restless.  He watched his daughter prepare Picard for a long,
much-needed rest and thought about their spirited discussion, sifting through
the minutiae of Ztlaf's responses, feelings and energy fluctuations.  He saw
that regardless of the terrifying battle she had fought with guilt and shame,
she still wanted him.  She had made herself ignore it, forcing it to the
bowels of her mind and spirit.  Whenever it tugged at her, she shrugged it
off violently and applied herself vigorously to exhausting mental exercises. 
He knew he could relieve her of the guilt; he could remove it completely. 
But she had to fight her own battles for the most part, both physical and
mental.  She would soon be called upon to make her choice, and regardless of
the one she chose -- he already knew which it would be, and so did she,
though not quite so strongly -- she would need every ounce of her spiritual
strength to carry on, including the negative impulses she fought so fiercely. 
It was just like the lesson they were all trying to teach Picard -- you had
to accept your whole being.  If you did not, your choices, impulsive and
otherwise, would be ruled by variables you refused to acknowledge, thereby
creating a cycle of uninformed, misunderstood actions and reactions which
would ultimately have a significant impact on the universe and all within it.

     Q recognized that although Ztlaf was usually able to ignore her energy
attraction to him -- an attraction so vast and immense he would have a hard
time explaining it to anyone who was not wholly Q -- Ztlaf still struggled
with a fierce physical response to him.  She apparently found his choice of
human form extremely arousing.  Her eyes bored into his with erotic
intensity, most often when she was in any state of emotional arousal --
anger, fear, sadness, and so on.  A great deal of her hostility was a cloak
for her desire for him.  She had never disobeyed him before they both became
fully aware of her feelings.  Since she had discovered the cause of her
responses to him, however, she had convinced herself that he did not want
her, that he was ashamed of her and that he found looking after her a burden. 
She used her perceptions of him, as well as Picard's mixed feelings towards
him, as justification for her resentment.  Q was also aware of his enormous
part in the circumstances which had culminated in her desire for his love,
all aspects of his love.  The not-too-distant future was peppered with
formidable emotional hurdles for Ztlaf; Q was acutely aware that he would
have to guide her through a great deal of a mostly terrifying, spiritually
painful journey.  He felt the enormity of the pain which awaited her and
immediately fled from his human body, the ache in his chest too much to
withstand.  He hovered above the Enterprise, considering his options with
respect to his role in the daunting future which loomed in Ztlaf's immediate
future.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Bridge to Captain."

     Picard roused himself quickly and grasped his comm badge from the table
beside the bed.

     "What is it, Lieutenant?"

     "Sir," Worf responded, "there is an urgent subspace message from
Starfleet Headquarters, on a secure channel."

     "Patch it through to my quarters, Lieutenant.  Thank you."

     "Aye, sir."

     Picard briskly yanked a robe over himself and hurried to the computer
console.

     "Admiral.  A good early morning to you."

     "Good morning, Jean-Luc.  I don't like to be the one to cut your little
vacation short so suddenly, but the Enterprise must end its stay at Starbase
152 immediately.  You will be contacted shortly by the Starbase commander,
informing you that extra medical supplies have been authorized for loading
onto the Enterprise.  There is a serious outbreak of Andorian Brain Fever on
Deep Space 9.  Their stores are all but depleted.  A state of emergency has
ben declared and all healthy inhabitants have been ordered to stay in their
quarters, while all sick inhabitants and visitors are quarantined.  They need
those supplies as soon as possible; Bejor is not equipped to meet those
needs.  You are the closest ship.  We are sending other ships, but you must
leave as soon as the medical supplies have been loaded.  You are hereby
authorized to travel above warp nine; this situation definitely calls for
it."

     "Right away, Admiral."

     "Good luck, Jean-Luc."
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (Pt. XII)

Copyright (c) 1994; cmfaltz@panix.com


     Dr. Bashir rushed about the infirmary, checking the status of his
patients.  Medics scrolled through patients' records, rapidly typing in
progress reports -- there wasn't much progress to report.  Bashir knew he
should stop to rest, or else risk making himself highly susceptible to the
illness infesting Deep Space 9.  He was unusually quiet, the medics noticed. 
He wore a frown that did not want to leave.  How the hell had the illness
gotten so out of control?  It was a nasty sickness, but he had never seen
such a virulent strain; it was generally easy to keep it in check.  People
who had been vaccinated at the first warnings of the presence of the illness
on the station were coming down with it anyway.  The virus seemed to have
adapted itself to withstand the medical resources available to fend it off.

     "Julian, you should rest!"

     Jadzia Dax's voice was stern.  She herself looked worn.  She looked at
him closely and her eyes met his  with a look of companionable commiseration.

     "It's not going very well, is it?"

     "No, it isn't at all," he answered dejectedly.  "I just don't understand
it.  I can't find any explanations for such a swift spread of the infection. 
It's not even supposed to be contagious in the first stages.  If a person has
it, the illness cannot be spread to others until the individual is showing
clear symptoms, and by that time, the first person is quarantined.  That's
why there has never been an epidemic of Andorian Brain Fever.  It is a nasty
illness, but rare and manageable.  Until now."

     "Perhaps it is a different illness altogether, Julian.  Maybe it's not -
-"

     "No, it checks out across the board as Andorian Brain Fever.  It starts
out feeling like the flu or an intestinal virus is coming on.  So the patient
gets treated in a way which boosts the immune system to defend against the
most common strains of those.  Then, it begins to manifest itself in a
blistered, painful body rash, which begins *inside* mucus membranes and winds
up covering the entire body.  Extremely painful.  The only reason it's quiet
in here is because I'm keeping those who have manifested the rashes -- the
second stage -- under sedation.  This would sound like a torture chamber
otherwise."

     "What's the next stage?"

     "About sixty percent skip the third stage.  The others begin
hallucinating and become violent, and must be restrained.  They try to harm
themselves, both because they're unable to judge what they're doing and
because they want to stop the pain.  They are exceedingly dangerous both to
themselves and others. "

     "What happens to the ones who skip the third stage?"

     "They become completely catatonic for several hours, at most.  The next
step is death."

               ***            ***            ***

     Commander Benjamin Sisko sighed.  He had just spent half an hour
convincing Jake that he must stay in their quarters and allow no one to
enter.  He understood Jake's feeling of being held hostage by this damned
sickness.  Sisko rubbed his eyes wearily and entered the promenade, wanting
to make sure no one was lurking about.  He saw Odo making rounds as well. 
Quark was nowhere to be seen, having gone to his quarters in a furious funk
over the loss of business the illness was causing.

     "Odo, how are you feeling?"

     "Just fine, Commander, thank you.  I like to think I am immune to this
illness."

     "Perhaps you are, Odo.  I certainly would hate to lose your assistance,
especially at this time.  Odo, Starfleet is sending medical supplies.  The
first ship to bring them will be the Enterprise.  I would very much
appreciate it if you and Major Kira would meet the captain."

     "Sir?"

     "Please, don't ask me to explain; I'm not up to it.  I just do not feel
-- capable -- of meeting with Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

               ***            ***            ***

     "Well, how is Deep Space 9 holding up?"

     "They've declared a state of emergency and have sent out requests for
help.  Their medical stores are depleted, they're working on a skeleton crew
and everybody is in their quarters or in the infirmary."

     "I don't know if this was such a great idea."

     "I know it seems rash, and I know we're playing with innocent lives. 
But most will survive; we counted on their call to Starfleet and we know
Starfleet will help them.  Very few, if any, will die."

     "Three already have."

     "Those three, the way they died, is civilized compared to how we're
living.  Always in fear of the Cardasians, ever aware of their capacity to
kill, maim and torture.  You, more than most of us, should understand that
the ends justify the means in this situation.  You saw firsthand, as a small
child, the destruction and evil --"

     "Yes, all right.  I just think there must be a less -- radical way to do
this."    

     "Ro, I know you still feel for those you worked with, and that you are
still plagued by guilt for disappointing that Captain Picard.  But the only
way we can be rid of the Cardasian threat is to bring the Federation and the
Cardasians to the brink of war.  The Cardasians will be responsible for many
casualties, but they are no match for the Federation.  Once the Cardasians
realize this, they will relinquish the territories immediately surrounding
ours, and new treaties will be formed.  We will finally be rid of that
blighted race."

     "What makes us any better than the Cardasians if we deliberately torture
and kill people?  Because that's what we're doing.  You think that just
because we're not killing with phasers and disrupters, because we're not
torturing for information and raping children, we're better?  More
*civilized*?  I'm sure the Cardasians preached noble and glorious ends to
their people for the treatment of Bajorans.  We don't have the right to play
with people's lives like this.  And they're on *our* side.  Most of the
people on the station *hate* the Cardasians, and remember what they did."

     "Don't you ever compare us to the Cardasians!"

     "Why not?  We're killing --"

     "Hardly anyone will die from this illness, Ro.  Not nearly as many as
have died, and will continue to die, at the hands of Cardasian sadists."

     "One life is too high a price!  We're no better than they are.  And
we're not only murderers, we're cowards, hiding behind a tiny virus, instead
of showing ourselves for the brutes we've apparently become, or that you
apparently would like us to become."

     "I'm not going to listen to this!  I thought you made your decision to
join us.  I thought your belief in our cause was unadulterated by any
residual loyalties to Starfleet."

     "I just don't like the *methods* which were agreed upon.  Why do we have
to force our hand?  If we're found out, we'll have two sets of enemies."

     "Then I guess we can't get found out, can we, Ro?"

               ***            ***            ***



     Major Kira sighed, her face worried.

     "The Enterprise won't be here for another five hours, Commander.  And
Julian told Dax we are completely out of serum for the illness.  We could
lose ten people in five hours to this damned virus."

     "I know, Major.  But it is out of our hands.  There isn't anything else
we can do."

     "We are so vulnerable right now.  What if the Cardasians or the Dominion
decide to make a move?"

     "That would not be intelligent, Major.  We have a slew of Starfleet
ships heading this way."

     "It would be all over by the time the Enterprise got here."

     "True, but just consider what anyone who attacked us would have to deal
with after the fact?"

     "After the fact won't help us any, will it, Commander?"

     "Major, I know we're all feeling a little strained and cooped up.  I
don't like feeling helpless any more than you do.  But the fact remains that
we can do nothing more until we get those medical supplies and some extra
medical assistance."

               ***            ***            ***

     Julian drank some tea with a mild sedative and lay on his bunk.  He
stared stonily about him, his mind racing, trying to explain the manic spread
of the "plague."  That's what he had begun to call it, at least to himself. 
It was a mystery how it had gotten so out of hand.  It was as if people were
exposed deliberately . . . 

     "Bashir to Odo."

     "Yes, Doctor."

     "Odo, I think the eruption of Andorian Brain Fever on the station is a
deliberate, calculated occurrence.  If you could -- nose around a bit -- you
might be able to gather evidence backing up my suspicions."

     "I'll get right on it, Doctor."

     There was nothing more Julian could do. except . . . 

     "Bashir to Infirmary."

     "Lendara, here, Doctor.  May I help you?"

     "Yes.  I want you to do a scan of the ventilation system and the
replicators.  Get in touch with Chief O'Brien and any other people on the
station who can run diagnostics checking for the virus.  All of what you
should be looking for is in my medical logs of thee past week.  I'll join you
in an hour."

     "Yes, sir."

     Julian tried to sleep.  He felt the tug of weariness caused by the
sedative, but could not stop considering the significance of a deliberately
planted virus.  Finally, he gave up on rest and headed for the infirmary.

               ***            ***            ***

     His wife smiled at him, beckoning with her hands.

     "Ben, sweetheart.  We must talk.  You are only hurting yourself by
clinging to me.  You cannot allow your memory of my death to hinder you in
your professional responsibilities.  You know better than that."

     Sisko wanted to wake up; he knew her image was just a subconscious
cruelty, brought on by the knowledge that the man responsible for his wife's
death would soon be on Deep Space 9.  He would avoid him as long as he could. 

     "Benjamin," her voice reached him through his anger and pain.  "You are
obsessing over something that will not change.  You can spend the rest of
your life feeling hatred for Jean-Luc Picard, but it will not bring us
together, darling.  I love you, Benjamin, but you must let go.  He did not
set out to destroy me.  He did not want to hurt anyone.  He was abused as
much as any of us.  AT least the end for those who died was quick.  Picard
must live with the knowledge that it was he who the Borg used in their mass
destruction.  Do you have any idea what that kind of guilt could do to a man? 
Most men would not survive it; Picard nearly suffered a nervous breakdown. 
Most of his suffering was done alone, in the deepest recesses of his mind and
spirit.  Few will ever know that kind of suffering, Ben.  You are doing both
yourself and Picard a great injustice by pinning the blame on him.  At some
point, you have to stop mourning me, darling.  I will always love you, and
your love for me, even after such a long time, is very special to me.  But
you cannot blame a person for something he did not have any control over.  I
realize you need someone to blame; it makes it easier to go on, to move on
with your life and Jake's.  But you must let the hatred go, Ben.  The present
and the future require it."

     "He should have killed himself before allowing such a travesty," Ben
shouted.  "He knew the Borg; he went over to their ship willingly, the
Starfleet hero.  His record and his standing in Starfleet went to his head,
and he put the Federation at the greatest risk it has ever faced -- complete
genocide in the worst possible manner -- not death to all, but enslavement to
all -- enslavement by a race that wanted to take what it deemed best about us
and throw the rest away, a race that would take our consciousness as
individuals and mesh it into a collective monster."

     "How do you know what it was like for him, Ben?  How dare you judge a
man so harshly, when you have no idea what the parameters were, what options
seemed appropriate at the time."

     Sisko flinched from his angry wife's words, shocked at her fury.  She
had never behaved like this.  What was it that was causing this mental
construction of his quiet, loving wife?  He reeled from her anger, his mind
screaming to escape to wakefulness.  He fled through his dream, trying to
find an escape.  She ran after him, and grabbed him in a smothering embrace. 
She turned him around, pressing her mouth against his, urging his acceptance
of her with her frantic tongue.  He was momentarily shocked, then accepted
the kiss, their bodies melting together into one another, hands gripping
frantically for a grasp that would defy the fact that she was gone and
somehow bring them together again.  Suddenly, her face was gone, and in its
place was the angry face of Major Kira.

     "You would risk this station, and Bajor's well-being, because of your
ridiculous hatred for a man who never meant to harm anyone!  Here you are,
the Federation representative for a provisional government that has forever
changed Bajoran culture, no matter how you deny it, and you dare to point the
finger of blame at another for bringing about the death of your wife!  Many
lost spouses, partners, children, relatives and friends in the incident with
the Borg, yet they somehow manage to put it behind them, for the sake of
those of us who are still here, with more tragedies to resolve and still
others to avoid.  I'm not happy with the provisional government, but do I
blame you every day for that fact?  There was a time when all I wanted was
the power to destroy Cardasia, the ability to hurt, to inflict the kind of
pain and chaos the Cardasians caused Bajor.  I still haven't worked it all
through, but at least I have willing to try.  You want to run and hide from
Picard, regardless of the fact that his record proves he can be of great
assistance to you.  He never, at any time, *wanted* to become part of the
Borg or wanted to be part of the destruction they forced him to inflict upon
his own species.  Why don't you stop to consider how he feels?  Do you think
he didn't lose valued crew members and friends?  Do you think he doesn't lay
awake nights, shaking with fear and revulsion at the part he had in assisting
the Borg.  His purgatory is undeserved.  He doesn't deserve your hatred any
more than he deserves the guilt he still faces inside."

     "Major, I really don't feel up to having a debate about this with you!"
Sisko shouted. 

     "No, of course you don't, Commander!  That would be facing up to the
truth, wouldn't it?  Acknowledging the ridiculousness of this irrational
grudge?  Your wife is DEAD, dead and gone.  Move on.  There's no telling how
Picard may one day assist you.  He might even be the man who saves your life,
or the life of someone you care very much about."

     "That would at least balance the scales, wouldn't it, Major?" Sisko
retorted.

     He turned away from her scornful face.  He felt the familiar empty ache,
his wife's helpless form flashed through his mind's eye, filling him with the
same hopeless dread he had suffered at his inability to rescue her from the
destroyed ship.  He felt tears threatening to emerge, and forced himself to
hold his ground.  His whole being seemed to boil with anger, vengeance and
hatred; he shook with the rage of a man who had no available adversary, no
real enemy except his own relentless grief.  

               ***            ***            ***

     While Picard slept, Ztlaf conferred with Q, then hurried off to visit
Benjamin Sisko in his sleep.  By the time she returned, Picard was just
rousing himself from a fitful doze, and Q and Ztlaf were satisfied that Sisko
was no longer a threat to the cooperative efforts that would be called for in
a very short time between himself and Picard.

     As Picard woke, Ztlaf reduced herself to the size of a pinhead and
slipped into his ear.  He felt nothing until she had found her way to his
brain.  She began to manipulate his pleasure centers, careful with the amount
of attention she paid to each selection.  She would not be spending many more
nights with him; he would be busy, very busy, and her time with him was
running out.  

     Picard stretched and learned via the computer that the time was 06:22. 
He had a few minutes to relax.  Where was Ztlaf?  Usually, she was there
beside him when he woke, ready for a short love-making session.  As soon as
he became aware of the floating feeling flowing through his entire body, he
knew she was with him.  It was not the lightheaded feeling of nausea or any
illness.  It was the light, airy feeling he used to call "love" when he was
attracted to girls when he was a teenager.  There was the familiar thrilling
tingle in his fingers, the anxious, nervous rush in his abdomen, reminiscent
of a horse galloping down a steep hill.  His erection flushed, feeling hotter
than usual.  His pulse hammered in his ears.  He reached to grasp himself,
then stopped.  He hadn't masturbated in decades.  But the urge was strong,
the temptation a taunting desire.  Then, the sensation of a tongue flicking
lightly against his neck, then another against his nipples and one at his
testicles crashed in upon him.  He panted, squirming as he clenched his
fists.  He was self-conscious, not so much because Ztlaf was obviously
watching her effects on him, but in the past few days he had begun wondering
if Amanda and Q (especially the latter) were observing the goings-on.  He
tried to rationalize that Q could watch anything any time, but that did not
make him feel any more comfortable with his desire to relieve the growing
need.  He felt cooling fingers on his face, then on his chest, stroking ever
so lightly.  He felt his desire to pleasure himself growing palpably, and
knew Ztlaf was responsible.  He told her quietly to stop it, but she
whispered to him, "Do it, Jean-Luc."

     Her face -- the one she usually used -- appeared before him, smiling
mischievously.  

     "Do it."

     He felt a disembodied hand grasp at his penis and immediately he took
the hand away.  He had never masturbated in front of anyone before; it was
something he hadn't done since losing his virginity.  He had always been able
to find someone to -- relieve the tension.  He heard Ztlaf's laughter in his
mind, and he blushed.  But he took himself in hand and slowly and
deliberately brought himself to the brink of climax.  As the pressure built,
Ztlaf materialized, maddeningly slow, teasing him with her barely perceptible
appearance, until she was wrapped snugly around his penis.  He reached up to
grasp at her and held her wrists tightly against his chest as he came inside
her.  When he was finished, she moved to roll off of him, and his semen
spilled out of her onto his stomach.  She grasped his hand and said, "Don't
let it go to waste, Jean-Luc.  There must be something we can do with it."

     He rubbed it all over her, his erection growing back as he moistened her
body with himself.

               ***            ***            ***

     Deanna and Geordi hurried through breakfast.  It had been nearly twenty
hours since they had had to cut their talk with Data short to attend the
briefing with the Captain regarding DS 9.  They had told Data to meet them at
07:15 to continue their talk.  As usual, Data was punctual.  He spotted them
and came towards them.

     "Counselor, I have spent most of the past day analyzing my dream in
light of various psychological models.  I think that my responses are all
explained by not only my primary -- desire -- to become more human, but also
by my desire to be -- better than Lore, should I attain anything remotely
similar to Lore's ability to have emotional reactions."

     "Data, you say that in your dream. Lore discussed the chip, the emotion
chip.  He called you a coward for destroying it.  Yet you did not destroy it,
correct?"

     "That is correct, Counselor.  I have placed it in my wall safe.  I have
been reluctant to try it."

     "Surely not out of fear, Data."

     "I suppose you might view it as fear, Counselor.  But my unwillingness
to try the chip may also be explained by the rational assumption that since
Dr. Soong was so clearly unable to prevent Lore from developing what could be
classified as psychotic and destructive tendencies, I would be placing
myself, and therefore the ship and everyone on it, in potential jeopardy."

     "Data, it's clear that your dream reflected your -- fears and
uncertainties about trying the chip.  But perhaps we should try it.  Geordi
and I will stay with you.  If there are any signs of anything objectionable,
we will remove the chip."

     "What if I do not allow you to do so, Counselor?  You will not be able
to turn me off unless I allow you to do so.  If I receive negative --
impulses from the chip, I may harm you if you attempt to take the chip out."

     "Geordi," said Deanna, "what about if we place Data in a force field and
have him insert the chip? "

     "Even so, if Data reacts negatively, he won't be able to get to us, but
neither can we get to him without removing the field." Geordi stated.

     "Can't you rig something -- an attachment of some kind to shut him down
if anything happens?"

     Deanna looked apologetically at Data.

     "It's so strange talking about you this way."

     "That is all right, Counselor.  I do not mind."

     "I suppose I could link up Data so that I could -- shut him down if it's
required."

     "How long before we reach DS 9?"

     Four and a half hours," Geordi replied.

     "I think that's enough time to test the chip.  How about it, Data?  Why
don't we get this out of the way?"

     "I still have what you might call -- reservations, Counselor.  But it is
a relatively safe time to try."

               ***            ***            ***

     Julian stared at the screen.  

     "Get the Security Chief!" he barked to a medic nearby.  "Now!"

     The medic glanced, seemingly annoyed, at Bashir's comm badge, then
pursed his lips and scurried off to the other side of the room to retrieve
his own.

     "What is it, Julian?"

     "This virus . . . it's been synthetically altered.  And I just found it
in the replicators.  It's been programmed to be circulated through the
replicator randomly.  It has therefore been transmitted through food and
beverages.  With this strain, it might even have entered mucus membranes
through cloth fibers of replicated clothing."

     "How?"

     Odo appeared beside them.

     "What is it, Doctor?"

     "The Andorian Brain Fever epidemic we've been experiencing is at least
explainable, Chief.  It seems we have a saboteur on this station, a
particularly sick saboteur."

               ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf eyed Sisko as he paced his quarters.  Had the dreams worked?  It
was hard to say, and Daddy Dearest hadn't been forthcoming with his opinions. 
Ztlaf was aware that her time was short.  There was a lot which would soon be
out of her control, whether she liked it or not, agreed or not.  The
Continuum had been unusually strict about this assignment, and she knew the
consequences would be harsh and quick this time, and her father would not be
able to protect her.  Ztlaf was worried.  Events were spinning out of
control, too quickly, too unevenly.  She did not feel competent to deal with
what lay before her.  She had few, if any choices, however.

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Pt. XIII)

     Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "Beverly, I think it is a positive step Data is taking," Deanna
said.  "We've got everything under control.  We checked with the
captain; he gave his okay.  Data is not likely to be needed as far as
the situation on Deep Space Nine goes.  And I think it will be
interesting to have you there.  To see if after the chip is inserted,
you can detect, from a medical standpoint, any changes."

     "I wasn't able to differentiate between Data and Lore, Deanna.  For
that matter, neither were you."

     "But perhaps it will be different."

     "Dr. Crusher is right in thinking that there isn't likely to be any
detectable difference in Data," said Geordi.  "But we did think you'd
want to witness the insertion of the chip."

     "All right, I'll come," said Beverly uneasily.  "But I-m -- I have
an odd feeling about this.  I suppose it has a lot to do with what
happened with Lore.  I could have lost Wesley."

     "I know," Deanna said quietly.  "But Geordi and Data have figured
out a way to turn Data off should anything objectionable arise."

               ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf was frightened and extremely sad.  She hovered, invisible,
over Picard as he accepted a flurry of messages from Major Kira at Deep
Space Nine.  Apparently, the doctor there had discovered the cause of
the outbreak of Andorian Brain Fever and was flushing out the
replicators on the station and working on a formula to strengthen the
serum which would be required when supplies arrived.  According to Kira,
Starfleet Headquarters was reporting outbreaks of the altered virus in
hundreds of outposts and deep space stations in Federation territory. 
There were no suspects; Dr. Bashir was sharing information with the
other besieged stations.  

     Ztlaf left Picard's quarters, unseen by all as she roamed the
Enterprise.  She was, very shortly, going to lose an enormous part of
her self, a self she had known for nearly three decades.  She was going
to lose her Q essence, and therefore her link to her father and her best
friend.  She would lose Picard; she did not know how, exactly, all of
this would occur, but she knew it must.  She would be reduced to the
level of a mere shape-shifter, something she found abhorrent --
apparently, her Qness was stronger than she would like to admit.  She
would no longer be able to help others as effectively as she had; she
would no longer be able to read thoughts and emotions.  Her mind would
be so empty of others and so filled with loneliness.  She would have no
family, no friends and no lover.  She would soon be meeting a brother,
who, it seemed from the little she'd gleaned from Q and her brief visit
earlier to Deep Space Nine, was a person with whom she would have
difficulty communicating.  He was aloof and unaffectionate; he did not
like to become close with anyone, let alone intimate.  People were fond
of him, but no one loved him.  Perhaps, she told herself, he would
become less hesitant in his relations to others if he did not feel so
alone.

     Ztlaf knew that she must introduce herself and then convince Odo to
come with her to find the other shape-shifters in the Gamma Quadrant. 
They had to assist the Federation in an approaching encounter with the
Dominion.  But Ztlaf barely considered these aspects of her future. 
When all was said and done, she would be as alone as Odo, with the
exception that she had had a life that she loved and that she had been
required to sacrifice for some "common good" that no one could explain. 
She understood the value of individuals, the potential for
contributions, important decisions and events which emanated from beings
who would be significant to the future of the universe.  Picard was one
of those individuals, and he had been hers; she had been his.  What good
was the love they had shared, if neither was permitted to dictate its
parameters and when it ended.  What kind of relationship could there be,
or had there been, for that matter, where one sought and received love,
while knowing that the other would lose his lover, without explanation
and without apparent cause?  Of what significance was she, that the
Continuum had to use her like this, and strip her of a tremendous part
of her self-identification.  She would arrive on Deep Space Nine as
Ztlaf, daughter of Q, lover and friend of Picard, friend of Amanda,
sister of Odo, half-shapeshifter, half-Q.  At some point, she would be
Ztlaf, sister of Odo, daughter of no one, friend of no one, lover of no
one.  She would have to learn how to live without reading others; she
must become accustomed to standing helpless when others were hurt.  She
would -- never see Amanda again, never see her father.  Her father. 
Ztlaf slipped through the wall of the observation lounge, where her
ramblings had taken her, and hovered outside in home form.  Were she in
a human form, she would be hysterical.  Her life was about to be
rearranged completely.  Perhaps she would take a different path.  Oh,
yes, she would give up her Q essence; apparently, it would be required
in order that Picard live.  But she was beginning to seriously consider
that perhaps she might choose to be terminated completely -- after all,
you could not lose anything, if you had nothing to lose.

               ***            ***            ***

     Geordi and Deanna stood back from the force field.  Data had
inserted the chip and stood for a moment, looking at Geordi.

     "Are you all right, Data?"

     "I find that I do not wish to access the programs; I do not want to
access whatever might be activated by the chip, Geordi.  I do not
understand this, since we have agreed that this would be an appropriate
time for this experiment."

     "Data, we're not going anywhere; we'll be here, no matter what
happens.  Believe me, Data, we don't want to lose the Data we've come to
know.  If we don't like the results, we'll bring you right back."

     Data considered this, then with an attempt at a casual shrug, which
made Geordi and Deanna smile, he accessed the material in the chip . .
. . . . . . . 

     PULSE QUICKENING; WHY???  NO REASON TO SHOW EXCITEMENT; STRANGE --
STRANGE -- ACCESSING DICTIONARY -- SENSATION IN -- REGION OF ABDOMEN. 
HURTS -- NO -- PAIN?  WAS THIS -- PAIN?  NERVOUS.  YES, I AM NERVOUS,
EXCITED, PANICKED, ANXIOUS?

     The words flooded through him -- how to explain; it -- felt -- odd. 
He tried not to -- feel it; it was disconcerting.  He felt confused;
what should I be doing; what should I say to -- Counselor Troi and
Geordi, waiting . . .  The "glands" in his mouth had stopped producing
"saliva".  Why had that happened?  He tried to activate the program
which regulated the synthesized bodily fluids; it took considerable
effort.  He sat down, tucking his head into his chest.  He stared about,
feeling -- accessing -- frightened?  Was he, Data, frightened?  The chip
-- they were trying the chip.  Ah, this must be -- fear, then.  Was this
fear, uncertainty?

     "Look, Geordi," Deanna said.  "He's terrified.  Oh, Geordi, I don't
like seeing Data like that!"

     Geordi steadied Deanna as she swayed slightly, her face betraying
her pity and fear for Data.

     "You can't *sense* him, can you?"

     "No, but I don't have to!  Look at him!  Geordi, what should we
*do*?"

     Dr. Crusher appeared then.  She stopped short, staring from one of
them to the next.

     "You already inserted the chip," she said matter-of-factly. 
"What's wrong with him?  He looks -- afraid."

     Data heard voices: Geordi, Counselor Troi.  They were -- concerned
about him.  Then, he saw Dr. Crusher, her red hair slightly tousled, her
eyes looking straight into his as he focused on her face.  

     MUST ACCESS SALIVARY GLANDS -- MOUTH TOO DRY.  WARMTH FROM ABDOMEN? 
NO, IT'S -- WHAT IS KNOWN AS AN ERECTION.  HE WAS SEXUALLY AROUSED!  HE
WAS REACTING TO DR. CRUSHER.  ANOTHER -- ODD FEELING.  HIS FACE -- HOT,
BURNING HOT.  

     Dr. Crusher started, open-mouthed.  What an odd expression!  Data's
face was -- leering at her!  She would be willing to swear that was it. 
She followed his gaze; the android was systematically looking her up and
down.  Momentarily shocked, she realized she was blushing.  Her eyes
glanced rapidly down, and she saw what she expected to see.  Data was
hard, his erection creating an almost imperceptible bulge in his uniform
-- the uniforms did not make erections easy to detect.  But she had seen
enough men in Starfleet uniforms to know.

               ***            ***            ***

     "What are we going to do about it?"

     "*we*?  I thought *you* wanted to handle it; *you* insisted --"

     "Oh, be quiet.  Look at her; I --"

     "What?  *What*?  Say it!  SAY IT!"

     "I don't know what to do. -- I think I know what's best."

     "I don't like the idea I've seen you hatching.  That would be
complete loss.  Not only that, but you would have to rearrange more than
one mind."

     "It's worth the grief they'll give me, if she is -- happier that
way."

     "She's stronger than you like to believe.  You are so sure she
needs you to stabilize her?  It's not as if you were forbidden to see
her afterwards?"

     "You think that is wise, considering?  I can't visit her.  It'll
just remind her.  And, with no link to me, with no physical or mental
connection, she will -- there won't be anything to stop her from -- why
are you making me state this so explicitly for you?  You know all of
this.  My reasoning is sound.  It's the only way."

     "Yes, of course, and your way even makes it easier for her to
desire you when you encounter her after the fact, doesn't it?"

     "I am not planning on doing that.  But you are!"

     "So?  She's not my daughter or my sister.  *We* were never related,
she and I."

     "You dare throw my reasoning and my motives up at me when yours
aren't terribly honorable, my dear?  It seems to me that we had better
discuss the merits of our ideas for her, and disregard our motives and
desires.  Can't you feel what she is going through?  She's frantic.  She
wants to die!  Completely!  Unalterably!  It's hard enough for me to
accept that she must accept mortality."

     "You've just uttered a few of the most mature statements you've
ever uttered in my presence.  You're right; let's discuss this with
Ztlaf's best interests in mind."

     "Stop patronizing me!  I am your teacher, my dear."

     "When are you going to realize that teachers learn as often from
their students as the students learn from them?  Maybe if you'd swallow
that basic premise, we would get along much better.  Putting that aside
for now -- let's talk about Ztlaf -- and for Our sake, let's find
something for her to do to occupy her mind."


               ***            ***            ***

     Dr. Crusher was amazed to realize that she was excited at the
thought that Data's first reaction to her was sexual desire.  She began
to consider, for the first time ever, what it would be like to have Data
touching her, kissing her, making love to her.  She knew he must be --
fast, and strong, and she shivered thinking about what he might be able
to do with his tongue --

     "BEVERLY!  STOP IT!"

     Dr. Crusher blushed brilliantly, remembering Deanna standing beside
her.

     "I -- I'm sorry, Deanna," she whispered, "but it's -- obvious he is
reacting to me, and well, I couldn't help --"

     "What?  What is it?" Geordi asked, staring at the two of them.

     "Geordi," said Deanna quickly, "talk to Data."

     "Data, how do you -- do you feel anything?"

     "I am positive I am experiencing input -- sensory input -- that is
not explainable by any rational means.  In particular, I am aware that
I am aroused by --"

     Data stopped; for some reason, he had the nagging -- feeling -- he
shouldn't say this, that it was improper.  Why should reporting on the
status of his systems be wrong?  He accessed what he knew about sexual
arousal.  People often discussed it, but in general, it was not "polite"
to articulate sexual attraction or gratification under most ordinary
circumstances.  Was this an ordinary circumstance?  Data was inclined to
think it wasn't, but he was uncertain.

     "Geordi," he said, "I find that I am suddenly uncertain about many
things.  I am suddenly comprehending why there are reasons becoming more
human might not be a -- good thing."

     "Data, are you experiencing any -- negative emotions?  Anything
that would include violence or any display of anger?  Anything you are
deeply concerned with, other than your feelings of uncertainty?"

     Data stood for a moment, allowing himself to "feel" -- or at least,
he could not explain how -- but it felt like feeling . . . what an
irrational thing to think.

     "I do not appear to be having negative emotions, Geordi.  Nothing
that would place myself or any of you at any risk."

     Geordi ordered the force field removed and stepped toward Data.  He
came almost to within an arm's length, then gestured violently with his
fist.  Data's arm flew up before his face; it looked as if he flinched
slightly, but he did not respond in kind.

     "You are testing me, are you not, Geordi?"

     "Yes, Data.  Well, that's good.  You're apparently able to tell the
difference between a real threat and a fake one."

     "That is not necessarily correct, Geordi," said Data.  "I have not
yet been faced with a real threat in my present state."

     "That's our Data," said Deanna, relieved.

     "Data, may I speak with you privately?" Dr. Crusher's voice sounded
unnatural to her; she did not know what had come over her.  She could
not take her eyes from Data's.  She had never found his odd appearance
remotely attractive, not even pleasingly exotic.  She had simply never
thought of him as a love-making partner.  But perhaps she had never done
so because she knew he would not "enjoy" it; it would not be a shared
experience.  Now that he probably would get something out of it, in
conjunction with his reaction to her, she found herself imagining all
the possibilities of an android lover.  She was certain there were
possibilities she wasn't even considering.

     "You shouldn't even be considering what you're considering," Deanna
hissed.

     "Deanna, I thought you were an empath, not a telepath," Beverly
said lightly.

     Geordi had finally caught on, and looked away quickly, taking a few
paces further away from Deanna and Beverly.  Data's keen hearing,
however, had not missed the whispered conversation, nor its
significance.

     "Are you discussing the fact that I have reacted -- physiologically
-- to Dr. Crusher's presence?"

     "Yes," said Beverly, her heart pounding.  Her hands were sweating
and her legs shook slightly.  Alarm bells were ringing in her head: 
IT'S TOO SOON; WHAT ARE YOU DOING; HE JUST PUT THIS CHIP IN.  REMEMBER
LORE!  REMEMBER LORE!  REMEMBER LORE!  But she ignored them.  If she had
had a bad experience with the member of a given species, then ran into
another member of the same species who looked almost exactly like the
first, she would not be justified in assuming the second would behave as
the first had.  She plunged ahead, the words spilling from her mouth too
fast, too eager.

     "Data, wouldn't you like to see Spot?  Let's go to your quarters,
you and I."

     Deanna and Geordi couldn't help it; they burst out laughing.

     "Doctor," Data SMILED -- it looked strange, but it was a genuine
smile.  "I believe you are trying to get me alone."

     Beverly blushed furiously, cleared her throat and looked Data
straight in the eyes again.

     "Let's go to my quarters, then, Data."

               ***            ***            ***

     "It's Jadzia Dax.  I'm just here to see if you're all right."

     The door to the alien's quarters swished open, responding to the
baritone voice, a voice used rarely because this alien's species, though
humanoid, had no vocal chords.  It took a tremendous expenditure of
energy to gulp enough air into his throat and use it to vibrate the
cilia inside fast enough to form sounds understandable to the listener. 
But he had taught Dax the language of his species, a species which
communicated almost entirely with their hands.  

     "Morn," Dax said, stroking his cheek in his sign for an informal
greeting, "are you still feeling well?  The vaccination apparently still
working?"

     "Yes, Jadzia," he signed, the expression she knew for a smile
suffusing his face.  His lips were practically nonexistent; when he ate,
a tube protruded from between his lips and sucked the food inside. 
Another tube protruded from beneath the flap of skin on the lower half
of his face when he sneezed or coughed.  When he laughed or cried, his
body shook in the same formless tremble.  Only Dax and a handful of
others could read his moods.  

     "Good, I'm glad," she said, putting her arms around him.  He
nuzzled her neck with his face -- Dax enjoyed the warmth which radiated
from him -- his normal temperature was about 50 degrees Centigrade.  He
reciprocated her embrace; she heard and felt the telltale sign of
contentment -- a noise that sounded exactly like the purring of a large
cat.

     "It's been very busy, Morn; I've been neglecting you," she said,
reaching up to stroke his few hairs.  Morn shivered; his hairs were
quite sensitive.  Dax began to caress his face with one hand while
teasing the hairs with light strokes.  Morn gathered her into his arms
and brought her to his bunk.  He bent towards her, pressing his food-
tube against her neck and creating the suction which would have drawn
her up inside him were she his dinner.  Dax made appreciative noises as
Morn applied his food-tube to her throat.  He removed his gloves,
revealing silky-smooth hands with thick fingers.  He unclothed her
quickly, immediately applying his food-tube to her nipples.  She
shuddered with pleasure, her legs sliding open.  Morn slid one finger
inside Jadzia's vagina, and she arched her back and uttered a cry as his
knuckle pressed against the clitoris.  Morn remembered his astonishment
when he had first learned that her clitoris was inside her vagina,
unlike many humanoid females.  It took him no time at all to master the
most effective methods of pleasuring her.  Jadzia Dax was blessed with
a Trill's desire and sensuality and a body that reveled in intimate
exploration.  Jadzia, to all around her, appeared difficult to approach,
but when she let her guard down in intimate situations and allowed Dax
to take over, she became an passionate, virtually unstoppable lover.  

     Jadzia raked her nails across Morn's shoulder and down his back,
closing the gap between them, encircling herself around his heat.  Her
tongue licked at his ears, and he drove two more thick, insistent
fingers inside her.  She bucked away from him, then against him, her
breath erupting in gratified sobs.  Morn braced himself with his feet on
the floor and held her down with one hand, not allowing her to break
free from the fantastic, searing sensations of his fingers.  She snapped
her mouth shut, grinding her teeth against the screams which yearned to
fill Deep Space Nine with her pleasure.

               ***            ***            ***

     "I don't know if it was a good idea to allow Data and Beverly to go
off together so soon after the implantation of the chip, Geordi."

     "A little jealous, are we?"

     "Geordi!"

     "Sorry.  I think Dr. Crusher is capable of assessing whether Data
is a threat.  I suspect she won't have any complaints."

     "Would you stop?"

     "Counselor, I'm surprised.  I've never seen you embarrassed
before."

               ***            ***            ***

     Ztlaf stopped brooding; there was something wrong, a threat
somewhere.  She focused and saw/heard/felt:

               ***            ***            ***

     Dr. Crusher felt embarrassed and excited.  How would she feel about
this later?  Was she going to regret this?  Would Data tell everyone
about his first "sensual" experience?

     Data was removing his uniform!  Already?  She watched him; her
heart hammered against her ribs.  She looked into his eyes as he faced
her.  His hands were on her, removing her uniform rather roughly.  She
was already breathing rapidly, the fire between her thighs already
turning from a slow simmer to a hard boil.  She thought suddenly that
she would be the first, the very first person whom Data would truly be
aware of during sex.  He would actually be able to *enjoy* her.  And she
would be the first.

     Her mind ablaze with this idea, Beverly took Data's face in her
hands and kissed him deeply.  She didn't know what she had expected, but
she had believed it would be -- different, somehow.  She thought he
would feel -- artificial in some way, that there would be a noticeable
distinction between Data and human males.  If such a distinction
existed, she wasn't aware of it as is tongue danced with hers and around
her, first in his mouth, then in hers.  She pressed herself against him,
feeling the strength of his hands on her and his arms around her.  His
erection pressed against her; she was so wet already he slid past her
clitoris and was inside her.  She gasped, on fire with the need for more
of him.  Suddenly, his hands grasped at her breasts, and he squeezed
them painfully.  She emitted a small, surprised scream, and found
herself on her back.  The world became a dizzying torrent of sensations. 
Data was inside her, fucking her fiercely.  It felt so very good, and
yet --

     Data tried to control it, this avalanche of -- feeling.  It was hot
and cold, pleasure and pain, bitter and sweet.  He tried to sift through
it to analyze it, to decide what was proper and improper.  But he could
barely access his dictionary, let alone get a grip of these feelings
possessing him.  He was aware only that he wanted this to go on and on,
and that Dr. Crusher wanted him.  He was dimly aware of her hands
pushing against his chest and her attempts to -- scream?  She was biting
him, hard, and kicking him, or attempting to do so.  It made him want
more; her teeth digging into him caused a rushing sensation -- he
wrapped one arm around her head, pressing down with his hand against her
chin, holding her in place.  The other hand he placed on her left
breast, and held her still.  

     There was a flash of brilliant blue light, and Data found himself
sprawled on the floor near the entrance to Dr. Crusher's quarters.  Dr.
Crusher was screaming and clutching her throat, tears streaming down her
face.  Then, sound, motion -- everything stopped.

     Data stood, looked about, assessing the situation.  Q stood beside
the bunk, and had apparently just ministered to Dr. Crusher.  She was
asleep, and there was no sign of tears or injuries.

     "Q.  Have I injured Dr. Crusher?"

     "You did; I fixed it," Q said.  

     Data noticed that he was -- back to normal.  But it didn't feel
normal.  He wanted the feelings again; he suddenly thought of Lore.

     "Q, have you taken the chip from me?"

     "No," Ztlaf answered in Q's voice.  She had taken her father's form
simply because Data already knew Q, and it saved explanations.  "You
still have your precious chip.  But you have to learn how to use it, my
friend."

     "What have I done to Dr. Crusher?"

     "I told you, android.  I fixed it."

     Ztlaf did not like masquerading as her father; she was used to
using a softer hand when teaching beings the errors of their ways.

     "You are not yet used to your newly acquired emotions," Q's voice
intoned.  "You could have killed this woman.  You must find a balance
between your "feelings" and your rational abilities.  I will be around
to help you for a little while, until it becomes second nature.  You
have to remember to consider the other being or beings interacting with
you, especially when the interaction is -- so intimate."

     "The circumstances appear to warrant that," said Data.  He felt
"feelings" returning.

     "Is Dr. Crusher unconscious?"

     "No, not exactly.  I have simply -- stopped time for her.  When I
release her, she will have no idea what happened before I arrived."

     "I thank you for intervening, Q," said Data.  "I have no desire to
harm anyone."

     "You will, Data.  You will."

     Ztlaf disappeared.  Data returned to the bunk, and smoothed Dr.
Crusher's hair away from her face.  He slipped onto the bunk beside her
and took her into his arms.  Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up
at him.

     "Data," she smiled, "why did you stop?"
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (Pt. XIV)

     Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com


     Dr. Crusher sipped a cup of tea, lazily reviewing her appointments
for that afternoon.  They would be arriving at Deep Space 9 in
approximately 45 minutes, and she needed this time to recover from her
recent encounter with Data.  She had taken a nap, but had two
appointments before arrival.  She would have preferred the extra sleep.

     "Hello, Doctor."

     Galoc was an interesting woman, the doctor mused, acknowledging the
Ferengi's entrance with a nod and a smile.  She walked almost defiantly,
her eyes full of challenge and purpose.  Beverly liked her a lot.

     "Well, Galoc, as you know, we'll have to hold off on your gender
transformation until after things are under control on Deep Space Nine. 
I understand that they have at least found the source of the spread of
the infection, so it shouldn't be too long before we've gotten the
illness under complete control."

     "I understand, Doctor."

     "You have, I hope, thought about all the issues I suggested you
consider, as well as those suggested by Counselor Troi?"

     "I have spent a good part of the last few days thinking of nothing
else but my decision and all of its ramifications.  I want to be
surgically altered -- I have no desire to continue living as a Ferengi
female."

               ***            ***            ***

     "Hello, Data.  Is everything all right?  How did your -- date --
with Dr. Crusher go?"

     "It wasn't a date, Counselor.  It was --"

     "Yes, Data, I know.  Well?"

     "I nearly injured the doctor, Counselor -- very seriously, I think,
if Q is to be believed."

     "*Q*?  Q is on board?"

     "I was engaging in sexual intercourse with Dr. Crusher, Counselor,
and was -- apparently unable to realize that I was too rough.  Q
appeared and told me that I had to learn to control the new input I am
receiving, and that he would help.  He also said that I had injured the
doctor, but that he had fixed whatever it is I did."

     "Data," said Deanna, frowning.  "This is serious.  I was worried
something like that might happen.  You have to remember that you will
have new and strange experiences and perceptions with emotional --
reactions.  What are you feeling now?  Try to describe it."

     "I feel as I did when the chip was first activated, Counselor,
though it is a great deal weaker.  Nervousness, perhaps fear.  And I
believe I am -- somewhat embarrassed.  That is the word which comes
closest to what I -- feel."

     "About Dr. Crusher?"

     "Not the encounter itself, but the fact that I was nearly
responsible for a serious injury.  Were it not for Q, I do not know what
the result would have been."

     "I hate to admit it, Data, but it seems as if we owe Q a debt of
thanks."

     "That seems appropriate, Counselor.  I am glad he was there to
remedy my mistake."

     "Data, do you realize what you just said, without a pause to
consider what you were saying?  You said you were *glad*."

     "Yes, Counselor.  I am glad."

     Deanna crossed the room and embraced Data.

     "I'm so happy for you, Data.  I think you will be able to handle
emotions quite well once you've gotten used to them."

     Data returned the embrace -- Deanna noticed he held her a little
too long.

     "Q did promise to assist me with getting used to my new feelings. 
I am concerned, however, Counselor, with something else Q told me."

     "What is that, Data?"

     "When I stated that I had no wish to harm anyone, Q said, 'You
will.'  What do you think he meant by that?"

     "I don't know, Data, but it certainly is possible that in the
course of your Starfleet career you will have to assist others in
preventing threats to your fellow officers.  Perhaps Q simply meant that
because of your new feelings, you would exhibit a desire to avenge harm
to Starfleet -- or at the very least, that you will desire balancing the
scales.  Many beings react that way, Data.  It does not make you a bad
person if you find yourself feeling that way."

     "Yes, Counselor, but I am stronger than most beings."

     "There are plenty of weapons which can destroy you, Data, just as
easily as another being.  There are also beings who are much stronger
than humanoids, particularly Terran humanoids.  The Vulcans, for
instance."

     "You are right, Counselor.  Perhaps I am worried for no reason."

     "That's something that will happen often, Data."

     "There are certainly aspects of having emotions which are serious
potential obstacles."

     "Yes, Data, there are, which is the primary reason why Vulcans
begin teaching their children at a very young age to compartmentalize
their emotions in a separate place, to detach themselves from the often
illogical responses emotions engender."

     "I must admit, however, that I have enjoyed my recent experiences
with emotion very much, Counselor."

               ***            ***            ***

     Worf had sulked a bit right after his first experience with Beverly
and Deanna.  He had hoped that he and Deanna might eventually take the
Oath, though he knew she did not consider monogamy an option.  He had
believed that he could change that, and though he would never admit it,
he felt inadequate to meet Deanna's needs, especially after he had
learned about Beverly.  He still suffered from bouts of silent anger. 
He admitted, if only to himself, that he enjoyed his time with the two
women.  Eventually, he had found himself -- thanks to Mr. Data -- in a
situation where he was alone with Beverly and had spent the better part
of a night with her.  She did not excite him as much as Deanna, but
Deanna was able to please him, because she could read him.  Beverly had
wound up feeling hurt when he did not talk to her after they made love. 
She had also displayed discomfort and anger with his unwillingness to
communicate what he wanted from her.  He simply was not used to
verbalizing such needs; he used his body to get what he wanted.  Beverly
had been slow to catch on and he could not enjoy himself as much with
her.  

     Worf was a man who preferred rough encounters; he was a Klingon
after all, a warrior.  A Klingon carried his power and quest for
dominance with him into every part of his life.  Deanna allowed him to
be what he wanted to be when they made love; he had had to treat Beverly
with care.  Because he had not had time alone with Deanna since he found
her and Beverly making love on the holodeck, Worf was restless for the
type of sex he liked most.  He decided that before arriving at Deep
Space Nine, he was going to get what he wanted, and he knew who would be
willing to comply.  She had offered before, and his sense of honor had
kept him from accepting.  She was young and a subordinate.  But Deanna
had stripped him of many of his inhibitions, and his desire was strong
enough to breach this one.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Is this fabulous news true, Odo?"

     Quark smiled as he hurried toward the promenade.

     "Yes, yes, it's true.  The replicators are clean; the infected
inhabitants are quarantined, and there is no danger of new infection."

     "And Starfleet is sending the Enterprise.  Of course, the infection
might have resisted a little longer, so that a few more ships would be
on their way.  Then everything would have been cleared up and there
would be more business opportunities available."

     "We have had three deaths from this disease, Quark.  You should be
happy you didn't get ill.  I know I'm not."

     "Oh, of course I don't mean anyone should die, Odo.  What do you
take me for, a heartless monster who only cares about profit?  It
saddens me enormously to know that there are people on this station, the
station I call home, who have lost loved ones.  I will be sure to listen
to them when they come to drown their sorrows and seek my counsel in
their hour of need."

     "Oh, I'm sure you'll give them all your attention."

     Odo stalked off to ready himself for the arrival of the Enterprise. 
Commander Sisko still hadn't explained to him the breach in protocol,
but Major Kira had taken the time to explain.  Odo thought the commander
was being childish, but he said nothing.  He was continually troubled by
the time and energy expended by beings who kept grievances alive for no
good purpose.  The anger of the Bajorans toward the Cardasians he
understood, but the petty individual gripes -- a terrible waste.  But he
rarely offered an opinion, though he was aware he often displayed
disdain for others' behavior.  He knew he was somewhat more judgmental
than many wanted him to be, but he felt he had to remind himself of his
separateness.  Something within him refused to allow him to accept an
identity *among* others, or as part of an other.  He was Odo, the shape-
shifter, alone and apart in many ways.  He simply could not relate, and
quite frankly had no desire to relate.  He found offers of friendship
hard to accept.  He was self-conscious, suspicious of any demonstration
of warmth or camaraderie.  He was fond of few people, and he made an
effort not to admit it when he was.  He did not question his reasons or
motives very often -- he was who he was, and that was that.  It was good
enough for him, so it would do.

               ***            ***            ***

     Quark didn't bother relaying the good news to his brother.  It
would be a little while before the Enterprise arrived; when it did, the
hubbub would bring the noise of business opportunity quickly enough. 
Quark wanted a little time to himself, to enjoy one of his favorite
holodeck programs.

     "Computer, run Quark 926."

     Quark had many programs and often had to scan through his menu. 
But this one he never forgot.  He saved it for times when he was
particularly happy and particularly horny -- times when a large influx
of customers was likely.  He had to be in a good mood to run this
program, otherwise he would become sullen and miserable because of the
knowledge that it would never happen, not outside the glorious
potentialities of the holosuite.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Send them out now.  It'll all be set at just the right time; the
Enterprise will be there in half an hour.  Great."

     "What's going on?"

     "We're sending in the saboteurs. the alleged saboteurs."

     "What are you talking about?  *we're* the saboteurs.  All of us,
particularly the Committee."

     "Yes, Ro, but we're moving into the second phase of the Committee's
plan.  We're having Llorsa's kids planted as the saboteurs."

     "What?  No one told me about this.  They are being used as
scapegoats?"

     "They have been made fully aware of what will happen."

     "When Llorsa decided to raise them, they were accepted as Bajorans. 
They've been raised as Bajorans, complete with hatred for Cardasia and
what it perpetrated against us.  Regardless of any marginalization
they've suffered, they are Bajoran in every way that matters."

     "Absolutely, Ro.  That's why they agreed to do this.  They feel
honored that they have been given the opportunity to avenge the
atrocities of their parents."

     "How do you know *their* parents were responsible for the deaths of
Bajorans?  For all you know, their parents may have desired an end to
the carnage as much as we."

     "Unlikely, since their father was a Cardasian general, Ro. 
Incidentally, it's truly amazing to me what a Cardasian apologist you've
become in the past few days."

     "I *hate* the Cardasians as much as any of you!" 

     Ro walked swiftly towards the other woman, her jaw set.

     "I watched my father die!  But I don't hate Cardasians in a vacuum! 
I hate the warriors, the aggressors, the ones who view us as means to an
end.  There are criminals and militants in every group, every species
and on every world.  I never want to get to the point where I lose touch
with that reality, and accept an impenetrable 'we' mentality at the
expense of any 'other'."

     "You are such an idealist, dear.  But I fear ideals won't take us
too far in our quest to be free of the Cardasian threat.  We must bring
the Federation and Cardasia to the brink of war."

     "And what happens if somebody leaps that brink?"

     "That will not happen.  Both sides are too smart for that."

     "All it takes is a charismatic lunatic who calls himself or herself
a leader."

               ***            ***            ***

     "Ensign Trinn."

     Laurene turned from speaking with Guinan and met Worf's gaze
directly.

     "Good afternoon, sir.  May I help you?"

     "Yes.  Please come with me."

     Ensign Trinn followed Worf to the turbolift.  When they had stepped
inside, he turned to her, expressionless.

     "I am interested in -- accepting your offer."

     "What offer is that, Lieutenant?"

     Laurene smiled at Worf.  She knew exactly what he meant; she
enjoyed forcing others to cross the barriers they set for themselves, as
she forced herself to cross her own.

     "You offered, as I recall, 'some time alone'.  Are you still
interested?"

     "Absolutely, sir.  The holodeck or your quarters?  Or mine?"

     "My quarters will be fine."

               ***            ***            ***

     Laurene studied the unmistakably Klingon decor and assemblage of
weaponry.  She smiled at the possibilities for this particular
encounter.

     "Do you prefer the dominant role or the submissive, Lieutenant?"
Laurene asked, smiling.  Worf looked at her, seemingly frowning -- or
was it just displeasure at her attempt to be humorous.

     "Dominant," he stated brusquely.

     "Very well.  I would very much like you to dominate me,
Lieutenant."

     Worf felt himself harden instantly.  She was so impossibly fragile,
but her spirit was that of a Klingon woman.  Were she a Klingon, she
would not have asked what he preferred; they would have simply followed
each other's cues.  Most Klingon women would be able to dominate Worf if
they desired to do so; a hot rush of excitement rushed inside him at the
thought, and he wrestled it away.  He had no desire to be dominated; why
did the idea cause him excitement?  No matter; Ensign Trinn was no match
for him.

     He walked towards her and brought her roughly to the ground.  She
was fragile for a Klingon, but she was a well-built woman; he had seen
her calisthenic programs on the holodeck and she was one of his star
martial arts pupils.  She could handle just about anything he wanted to
do.

     He told her to undress and she obeyed quickly.  He immediately
lunged upon her, closing his teeth around her right nipple.  Both
nipples hardened instantly, and Laurene draped her left leg over Worf's
hip and arched herself closer to him.  The wild growl deep in his throat
sent a rush of heat to her clit.  She reached down and brushed her hand
roughly against the bulge in his uniform.  She rubbed at him
ferociously, trying to convey her desire for him to undress.  She knew
he would not appreciate a direct request.  She knew enough about Worf to
know he talked as little as possible, and imagined he disliked talk
during sexual encounters even more than in general.

     Worf stripped quickly, and Laurene's heart hammered at the sight of
his naked cock.  She had made love to beings with cocks longer than
Worf's, but this was thick, too -- very thick.  She had fantasized about
being ravaged by a being with a thick penis -- on the holodeck she had
created several.  But she never thought she would actually encounter
such an enormous penis -- it was the most daunting cock she had ever
seen -- and she couldn't wait to have it inside her.

     Worf motioned for her to kneel, and she acquiesced immediately,
taking as much of him as she could into her mouth.  Her lips hurt with
the stretching required to accommodate him; she nearly gagged on him. 
She forced herself to concentrate and she reached for his testicles, the
size of large apples.  As she sucked on him, she imagined the feel of
one of those large testicles in her mouth.  She considered how it would
feel to have them thrust fiercely against her as Worf shoved himself
inside her.  Her cervix was going to get a bit of a beating today.

     Suddenly, Worf yanked her hands up above her head and slid padded
cuffs around her wrists.  Then he shoved her back, and she dropped
gracelessly to the floor.  He knelt above her, his enormous cock pushing
her mouth open again.  Her mouth straining, her body wanting the feel of
his hands or his tongue.  But she knew he would make her wait.  She
grazed his cock roughly with her teeth -- she might be cuffed, but she
could still exert force.  She sucked on him hard, becoming accustomed to
the overwhelming girth filling her mouth.  She was momentarily
astonished when the first gush hit the back of her throat -- it was too
little to mean a climax -- it must be pre-ejaculate.  It had a strange
flavor -- tangy, wild.

     Suddenly, Worf removed himself from her swiftly and turned her
over.  Holding her long hair in one hand, he yanked her up and towards
his bunk, unceremoniously throwing her down on her stomach.  Before
Laurene could get her bearings, a sharp, hot sting slashed across her
buttocks.  She yelped, her hands straining at the cuffs encircling her
wrists.  She turned over, pressing her stinging butt against the bunk. 

     "Turn over!"

     Laurene obeyed.  She had expected sex with him to involve this, but
she hadn't expected him to slap her so hard the first time.  A second
hot slap streaked through her; she gritted her teeth, feeling tears
behind her eyelids.  She became annoyed with herself.  There was no way
in hell she was going to allow Worf to see her tears.  He spread her
legs roughly and slammed a few fingers inside her, roughly thrusting
them in and out.  As he did this, he rained several hard smacks to her
butt.  Her skin was impossibly hot and tender; she would never make it
through this.  Another whack.  And another.  And again.  She opened her
mouth to ask him to stop.

     He was on top of her, sliding in to her vagina from behind. 
Laurene felt relief before anything else.  Then she was aware of the
feeling of being stretched wide, so wide she was sure he would split her
in two with the first thrust.  More and more of him pushed inside her --
when would it end?  She felt the slightly painful pressure of the tip of
his penis bumping against her cervix.  Worf began a ferocious thrusting,
his hands on her shoulders, pushing her hard against the bunk.  The bunk
shivered and shook beneath them; he seemed to be attempting to push her
right through the bunk to the floor beneath.  With each jarring stab,
Laurene gasped.  Her hands curled, her nails digging into her palms. 
Worf's teeth closed around her earlobe; she was sure he had drawn some
blood.  Despite all of this, she didn't want him to stop.  Part of her
wondered how the hell she would survive this; another part thrilled at
what was happening and ached for what would come next.  He fucked her
harder and harder, faster and faster.  She felt her orgasm just over a
crest that seemed too far away, teasing tendrils of sensation reaching
for her mind and her body.  She cried out and Worf's left hand shot over
her mouth, shoving her lips into her teeth.  

     "Be quiet!" he hissed in her ear.  

     In her mind's eye, Laurene pictured Worf's hard, well-muscled body
lunging and rippling on top of her, his monstrous cock invading her deep
inside.  She imagined the hard, hot pleasure she knew he must be
experiencing from possessing her like this, and she felt her climax
looming.  Fire shot deep inside her, Worf's ejaculation exploding
against her cervix, the spurts jolting, the semen much warmer than any
she had ever experienced.  He rolled off of her immediately and turned
her over roughly, presenting her with his cock, covered with semen.  She
cleaned him off thoroughly, her mouth welcoming the moisture.  Finally,
she was able to work her way down to his balls, and she took one in her
mouth as best she could and moved it about with her tongue, massaging
it, grazing it with her teeth.  Worf growled appreciatively, his hands
grasping handfuls of her hair.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Major Kira.  How nice of you to take the time to drop in on me. 
What can I do for you?  A drink?  or are you here to buy some --"

     "Shut up, Quark!  Don't make this harder for me than it already is. 
You know why I'm here."

     "Why, no, Major, I don't know."

     "Oh, stop it, Quark!  You know I'm only hostile to you because I'm
crazy about you.  All I can think about is tearing off my clothes and
making love to you, whenever I see you."

     Quark smiled sardonically at the image of Kira, her eyes downcast.

     "Oh, Major, I understand," he said.  "I know the trappings of
politics very well.  I know it would be -- wrong of us to display how we
obviously feel about one another in public.  But we aren't in public
now.  And I don't think there's any need to waste any time.  Do you?"

     "Oh, Quark!  I knew you'd understand!"

     Major Kira stripped and rushed at Quark, reaching for his ears.

     Quark froze the program for a few seconds, luxuriating in the sight
of a naked Major Kira, her hands on his ears.  He pushed the thought of
what she would do to him if she discovered the existence of this program
away.  The hell with her; he had a right to think anything he wanted. 
Besides, she probably had dozens of programs with him in them -- though
he was sure they weren't sexual in nature.

     "Computer, resume program."

     "Quark.  I want you.  I want you now.  Make love to me, Quark."

     "I don't know, Major -- I'm not sure this is such a great idea."

     "Oh, Quark, don't call me Major, not now, not when we're together
like this.  Call me Kira.  Touch me, Quark.  Take me."

     Quark grabbed her breasts in his hands and tugged her towards him. 
Of course, this being his program, she came unresisting, and he had no
trouble, despite the fact that she had both height and weight that were
above his.

     He placed one of her hands on his penis, the other continued to
stroke at his ears, alternating.  He leaned towards her and flicked his
tongue over and between the ridges on her nose, the equivalent to the
clitoris on Ferengi.  Because of their exposure to the environment, it
required constant, intense manipulation to arouse a Bajoran woman, hence
most Bajoran women preferred liaisons with people of their race.  Most
other beings, male, female and nongender became easily frustrated at
their apparent inability to satisfy Bajorans.  Quark worked on her
ridges with her tongue and his fingers until he felt her nearing
arousal.  She moved closer to him, grinding her ridges against his
touch.  He pulled away suddenly.

     "Quark, please; don't tease me.  I've waited so long for you."

     "Wait a little longer, my dear; it'll feel so much better when you
finally get what you want.  Lick my ears, Major."

     "Call me Kira."

     "Oh, no, Major.  It is much more fun calling you 'Major' when I'm
ordering you around.  Now take my ear in your mouth -- watch your teeth
now; if you hurt me, I'll make you wait even longer.  That's a good
girl.  Stick your tongue all the way in.  Oh, oooo, yes, Major.  That's
very nice.  You just might get what you want if you keep doing whatever
I say.  Oh, yes.  Touch my  other ear, Major.  Yes, oh, nothing like
making a man feel good, is there?"

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (Pt. XV)
Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com


     Ro Laren stood alone in the tiny holosuite.  She was surprised no
one was using it -- there was generally a long wait for the one
holosuite owned by this contingent of the Maquis before the execution of
a Committee Plan.  Ro didn't know what to do; she needed time alone, but
was it a good idea to be alone with her thoughts?  Since she had
defected from Starfleet, she had caught glimpses of the Maquis
leadership she did not like.  Her initial sense of belonging changed in
increments as she learned of the Committee and its militant stance on
virtually any issue which touched upon Cardasia.  She had seen parents
using their children at demonstrations -- it was appalling, this
widespread use of impressionable minds.  Of course, Llorsa's children
were all at the threshold of adulthood, but they were being used by the
Maquis in a way which they apparently did not understand.  Ro was
confused and afraid.  She no longer felt as if she belonged.  This was
not exactly an opportune time to admit this to herself.  She had been
struggling with feelings of guilt and shame for betraying Captain
Picard's trust and disappointing Will.

     Will, she thought, sighing.  What would he say to her now?  Would
any of her Starfleet friends listen to her now, or had she blown it once
too often?

               ***            ***            ***

     Worf was asleep and Laurene was exhausted and sore.  But she knew
there was very little time before the crew would be notified that the
ship had reached Deep Space 9 and she had something to do before they
arrived.

     She slipped quietly from the bunk; she knew she had to be extra
quiet around Worf.  She crossed to one of Worf's arrays of weaponry and
studied some smaller blades, trying to determine which was appropriate
for what she had in mind.  She did not want Worf to find out that she
had done this with one of the sacred knives; that would not do.  She
selected a comparably harmless-looking knife and manipulated her bound
hands so that she could maneuver it from its sheath.  She placed the
handle firmly between her knees, then released her precarious grip on
it.  She worked as quickly and quietly as she could, and was finally
able to cut the cuffs from her wrists.  She guessed that she had about
ten minutes, maybe fifteen.  She glanced quickly about the room and
selected what she would need.

               ***            ***            ***

     "What are you doing?"

     Odo sprang into human form before them, his look suspicious and
determined.

     "Nothing at all.  What's the problem?  I thought the infection was
under control."

     "And it is.  But you weren't about to ask for something; you were
about to *do* something to the replicator."

     "We were not!  You're just assuming that we would, because we're
Cardasian.  It's the same reason you ordered us to stay in our mother's
quarters.  For our protection, you said.  The real reason was that you
didn't want us around; you didn't think we warranted the same security
as others on this station."

     "What are you going on about?  Llorsa herself recognizes that her
decision to raise six Cardasian children is a touchy subject, at best. 
However, all of that is irrelevant.  Since we have determined that the
replicator is the source of the infection, anyone -- *anyone* -- doing
anything except ordering from one must be questioned."

     "All right, so question us."

     "Give me that vial you hid too slowly."

     "What vial?"

     "You know what vial."

     "Are you accusing my sister of anything, shape-shifter?  If you
are, say so.  If not, turn into something useful."

     "I suppose you think you're being clever.  Now all of you may join
me until I've searched each of you.  Odo to Security -- send me a few
guards, please.  Commander Sisko, I've just taken six suspects into
custody."

     "I'll be there in a minute, Chief."

               ***            ***            ***

     Worf was bound and gagged, a group of Romulans standing around him
guffawing.

     "Look at the fine Klingon warrior!"

     "Let's kill him!  Think that'll be declared honorable?"

     The Romulans jeered and spit at him.  Worf struggled, growling his
rage and frustration.

               ***            ***            ***

     Laurene knew Worf was dreaming.  She watched, amused, as he awoke
and discovered himself bound and gagged.  His eyes met hers; they
flashed anger -- she had never seen anger so palpable in a being's eyes
before, and certainly not in this type of situation.

     "Relax, Lieutenant," she smiled.  "There is nothing to be concerned
about.  I simply desired to dominate *you* this time."

     "There is no time for this," Worf attempted to say, but the gag
made it a garbled mess.

     Fury bred of embarrassment watched over Worf, and he strained at
the cuffs around his wrists, elbows, knees and ankles.  He managed to
spit out the gag after a moment.

     "Ensign Trinn, you will untie me NOW!"

     "No, Lieutenant; you will be quiet now, and I will do whatever I
like."

     Worf stared at her.  She watched as respect fought fury, interest
fought embarrassment.

     "You would be lying if you weren't curious, sir."

     Laurene walked over to him and slapped him across the face, hard. 
He didn't even flinch.  She smiled, drew her hand back and brought it
across his face with all the force she could muster.  Worf grunted, but
still did not move.

     "Well, obviously, you can take much more than I expected," Laurene
said softly, teasing him with her sneer.  "Turn over, Lieutenant."

     "You will not!"

     "Oh, but I will.  Turn over."

     "Untie me at once."

     "Untie yourself, Mr. Warrior.  If you can."

     Worf tried; he could not.  He was more ashamed of his  inability to
escape than he was concerned with what Laurene wanted to do to him.

     "We don't have much time, Lieutenant, so I suggest you simply
accept your situation and allow me to do what I want."

     Laurene hopped up on the bed, her legs bent.  She brought herself
forward hard against Worf's chest, slamming him to the bunk.  Using the
momentum, she flipped him over by yanking his right arm and right leg
towards her until Worf was on his stomach.  

     She moved up above Worf's head, spreading her legs on either side
of him.  She leaned down swiftly and brought up a long-handled whip,
with several strands of beaded leather attached.

     She brought the whip down across Worf's back in three quick, hard
cracks.  Worf winced, but was surprised to find that he was getting
hard.  What the hell?  Didn't he have control of his own dick!  He was
behaving as uncontrolled as a full-blooded Terran male, for K'hless
sakes.  

     "Well?" Laurene demanded, grabbing him roughly under the chin. 
"Get to work, and don't stop until I say."

               ***            ***            ***

     "It seems that we have our saboteurs, Commander.  Each one of these
-- individuals -- has a vial of altered viruses.  Dr. Bashir just
confirmed the analyses."

     "Have you contacted Llorsa?"

     "Llorsa is not on the station, Commander.  She, rather
coincidentally, left for 'an important convention' several days ago, the
very day the first cases of Andorian Brain Fever were reported, in
fact."

     "Our mother doesn't know a thing; don't you even think of dragging
her into this."

     Sisko turned unyielding, angry eyes upon them.

     "I am shocked that you would involve the family of Llorsa in such
a dangerous prank!  This isn't a game.  You could cause a war with
stunts like this.  Is that what you want, after being taught about how
cruel your people were to Bajor?  You want to give them a reason to come
back.  Bajoran feelings against Cardasia are well-known.  How do you
think they will react when it is learned that six Cardasians raised
among them and taught in their schools are attempting to bring the
Federation and Cardasia to war over sabotage?  This was a sick prank you
pulled.  Three people are dead, and --"

     "It's worse than that, Commander.  Think about it," said Odo. 
"These people do not have the facilities to alter viruses.  They had
help; they're just pawns in someone else's power play."

     "You're right, Chief."

     Sisko's face hardened; he fought to control his temper.

     "Chief," said one of the security guards, "I'm going to continue
sweeping the station in case of any other -- pranksters."

     "All right.  I'll join you shortly.  Get a few people together; try
to be discreet."

     "Yes, sir."

               ***            ***            ***

     The security guard hurried to the nearest transporter and sent an
encoded signal.  Seconds later, he reappeared in a small cabin
camouflaged by Bajoran woods.

     "Llorsa's kids have been taken into custody.  I leaked the
information that Cardasians were responsible for the sabotage just
before they were found.  The word will be out in no time."

     "Excellent.  Just in time for the Enterprise."

               ***            ***            ***

     Ro clung to Riker as they kissed, his hands massaging her breasts
sensually, gently.  If she closed her eyes tightly, she could make
herself believe she was with him, that these were his warm, comforting
hands, his sweet, enticing lips.  He bent his head and nuzzled her neck,
then lowered himself a bit more to trail his tongue between her breasts
as he gripped her nipples between his fingers.  Ro pushed his head
against her, wishing this wasn't a tiny holosuite in a cabin on Bajor,
wishing that she had never heard of the Maquis, and that she was still
among true friends in Starfleet -- people who had valued her not only
for her skill and value to their common goals, but also for her company,
her friendship, for the individual contributions she, Ro Laren, could
make because she was who she was.  She pulled away from the simulation
and sobbed "Exit program!" as the door to the room swished open behind
her.

               ***            ***            ***

     Kira scowled at Odo; she felt herself becoming extremely angry and
knew he saw it.  

     "You're telling me that those supposed Bajorans -- by law, *Bajoran
law* -- are aiding the Cardasians.  Llorsa took care of them all these
years, and they put on a show for all of us, all the time being
instructed -- Odo, I don't understand this!  How could this happen
without Llorsa knowing?  Wouldn't Llorsa recognize that something was
wrong?  There are *six* of them, Odo.  You can't tell me they all are
great actors."

     "Maybe Llorsa knew everything; perhaps she knows even more than
this.  Perhaps she knows every last detail."

     "Odo, do you hear what you're suggesting?  You're saying that a
devout Bajoran National *knew* her Bajoran-raised Cardasian children
were plotting against the station, possibly against Bajor."


     "I'm saying, Major, that I think this is a group effort, with many
more people than you or I initially believed.  I'm saying that this
group's cause goes beyond Bajor, while using Bajoran hatred for Cardasia
to its advantage.  I'm saying, Major, that I think this is the work of
the Maquis."

     "Dax to Kira."

     Kira took a deep breath and pressed her comm badge.

     "Go ahead."

     "Are you with Odo, Major?"

     "Yes."

     "The Enterprise has arrived.  Commander Sisko asks that you greet
the crew."

     "We're on our way."
OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN!  (Pt. XVI)


          Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "Ro, what is it?"

     "Nothing.  I was -- just remembering my father's death."

     "Well, I don't mean to sound cold, Ro, but I'm glad you're getting
yourself in the proper state of mind to approach what needs doing. . . . I've
just been given wonderful news.  Llorsa's kids pulled it off; they're in
custody, and Jamin leaked the information onto the station.  And, almost as
if we had planned it ourselves, the Enterprise has just arrived on Deep Space
Nine."

          ***       ***       ***

     Ztlaf hovered above Picard's right shoulder, observing.  She had
attempted to coax him into a quickie before he disembarked, but he was all
business now.  Ztlaf had no idea whether she would even be granted a last
opportunity to be held by him and touched by him.

     "Captain Picard, I'm Major Kira Nerys, and this is Chief of Security
Odo.  Commander Sisko sends his deepest regrets --"

     "Never mind, Major.  I have resolved the problem."

     Sisko planted a smile on his face and forced himself to move
purposefully toward Picard, hand outstretched.

     "Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Captain Picard.  I am sorry the Enterprise
is here on account of an emergency.  We are happy to have you."

     "Commander," Picard said, taking Sisko's hand briefly.

     "The illness is under control -- at least insofar as the spreading of
the virus.  The replicators have been flushed, but we have some severely ill
people in the infirmary, and others quarantined with early symptoms.  We are
completely out of serum, and we require a rather formidable medical staff in
order to analyze the altered virus and ascertain whether the formula for the
serum we intend to use will be effective.  Additionally, we have recommended
that no one on the station use the replicators until the system has been
thoroughly examined -- manually."

     "Obviously, Commander, my medical staff is at your disposal," said
Picard.  "Is there any progress with regard to a motive or a suspect?"

     "Yes, Captain.  Odo will fill you in."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Father, this place is really neat.  Much better than a holodeck
program.  Can I look around?"

     "I do not think that would be wise right now," said Worf.

     "Why not?  I heard Commander Sisko tell the captain the illness was
under control."

     "Nevertheless, Alexander, it would be prudent to be cautious.  In
addition, I do not want you wandering about unsupervised in a strange place."

     "I don't think a quick look around is out of the question, Worf," Deanna
whispered.  "He's been on the Enterprise for months.  He's perfectly safe."

     "Do not go far, Alexander.  And if anyone gives you any reason to
feel -- uncomfortable -- return immediately.  Do not get lost."

     A boy in his early teens appeared.

     "I can show him around, if that's okay," he said.  "I'm Jake Sisko."

     "That would be acceptable," said Worf.  "And -- thank you."

     "I'm impressed, Worf," Deanna teased, poking him playfully.  "There's
hope for you yet."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Ro, you must submit to surgical alteration.  We cannot take the risk
that someone from the Enterprise will recognize you."

     "What if they do?  They're embroiled in too much right now to bother
with me.  Besides, I know Captain Picard.  He's sorely disappointed with me,
I'm sure, but he respects me for my convictions, I know.  They're not going
to take me into custody and hand me over to Starfleet.  Picard knows
sympathizing with a group for political reasons is rarely easily redeemable. 
There isn't any good reason to imprison me."

     "There will be undue pressure on you and on your former colleagues if
you are recognized."

     "I'll keep a low profile; that's what I'm supposed to do anyway. 
Besides, a few of you will be on the station, too.  I'll do my best to stay
completely clear of the Enterprise crew."

     "All right, Ro.  I don't know why I give into you, especially after your
recent behavior."

     "Because you like me," smiled Ro, and she leaned toward the other woman
and slid her tongue lightly and quickly through the two top ridges of her
nose.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Hi.  I'm Jake Sisko."

     "I'm -- Alexander Roshenko."

     Alexander followed Jake, figuring Jake probably knew the most
interesting places to go.  Alexander had felt something strange when he first
met Jake's gaze.  He had never felt this odd feeling before.  It was strange
-- hot and wild, the type of feeling he suspected he would feel before a
fight if he were full-blooded Klingon.  (His father always told him about
such feelings; Alexander hadn't understood until now.)  But this feeling
wasn't the exhilaration of a challenge about to be faced.  It was exciting,
but frightening; it was inviting, yet intimidating.  It felt similar to the
feeling he got when he touched his penis while alone in his bed.  Suddenly,
he wondered what Jake's penis would feel like in his hand.  Alexander's face
flushed hot.  Why in space would he think of something like that?  He had
never thought of touching another kid down there -- or an adult, and Jake was
nearly an adult.  Wasn't he?

          ***       ***       ***

     "Dax to Sisko."

     "Go ahead."

     "We have a Bajoran freighter requesting permission to dock.  They're
having some engine trouble and don't want to risk the extra time getting to
Bajor."

     "Describe our situation, and if they still want to dock, allow them to
do so."

     "Aye, sir."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Ztlaf."

     Ztlaf moved from above Picard's shoulder and settled against the
ceiling, next to Amanda.

     "I have something to tell you.  No matter what happens when the time
comes for your decision, you must know something about the shape-shifters in
the Gamma Quadrant."

     "What about them?"

     "Remember we discussed the Dominion?"

     "Yes."

     "The shape-shifters are the Dominion, Ztlaf.  You and Odo will soon have
to convince your fellow shape-shifters to aid the Federation.  The Dominion
is highly suspicious of all other races, and has made quite a fearful name
for itself in the Gamma Quadrant.  It will not be easy to gain their trust
and assistance.  It will be a bumpy first encounter."

     "Why are you telling me this now?"

     "The truth?"

     "Of course.  If I wanted anything else, I wouldn't have asked."

     "Because there is little time left, and I cannot help you to this extent
when -- when what must happen happens."

          ***       ***       ***

     "You are actually considering defying us again.  How many sanctions and
banishments will it take to curb you?  Yes, we wanted you to become more
altruistic; but it appears we've created a monster.  No matter what we do, no
matter how strenuous our counsel, you fight us at every turn.  We arrived at
a compromise.  Ztlaf has choices, and she understands them fully."

     "That's certainly true.  She understands that we believe she's dirty, a
stain on Our Name.  She believes that these are the only alternatives she has
because of our contempt for her existence.  I don't understand what the need
is for her Q essence to be the power that fuels Picard to live again.  I can
make him live again without Ztlaf sacrificing herself; any of us can.  You
have placed the price of a major part of Ztlaf's existence for something over
which she had no control.  She has proven herself to be responsible and
caring.  I have been told more than once that she surpasses me in maturity
and reliability.  You are ridding the Continuum of one of its finest members
by demanding this of her."

     "She isn't a member; she never was, and she never can be.  She's a
shape-shifter."

     "She is my *daughter*.  She is Q, in all the ways that matter; she
embodies the best of what we are and/or can be.  You are punishing her for
her existence, an existence she had no part in bringing about."

     "You should have considered the future of your child when you decided to
create her with that creature from --"

     "Oh, that's very interesting coming from you.  I get slandered up and
down the Continuum for being a condescending tyrant and you have the nerve to
say that about my daughter's mother."

     "The decision has been made."

     "I can change that decision whenever I like.  And I just may do it."

     "Q, you're overstepping yourself this time far more than you ever have."

     "So be it.  I haven't heard a single reason why Ztlaf should have to
give up her Q essence to save Picard."

     "Don't disobey this decision, Q."

     "I'll disobey anything I like if I believe it's wrong, Q.  I've done it
before and I'll do it again.  And I know the only reason why you haven't made
it so you can prevent me is because you know that you're just playing games
with me.  This is an elitist hoax you're pulling; you just don't like the
fact that despite everything, I raised one of the most caring, responsible Q
ever to have been created."

     "I suppose you're considering granting her full powers one day?"

     "I will decide what's best for my daughter when *I* decide, when I think
it's prudent.  I refuse to be bullied and I refuse to have my past thrown up
at me."

     "You aren't thinking of changing the course of things as they have been
seen, as they are meant to be played out, I hope?"

     "No; for now, everything will go as you jokers planned.  But after a
while, my daughter's future will be mine, until I've decided what the best
course is for me to take for her, what should be given and what should be
taken.  After that, her future is hers.  Ztlaf is no longer your concern,
from this day on -- unless she becomes a full member of the Continuum."

     "Never!"

     "My friend, never is a short time, and I have just as much power over it
as you do.  And Ztlaf is my daughter, and she has the makings of a wonderful
Q member.  So if you will excuse me, I shall return to look after my
daughter.  She has a difficult time ahead of her, thanks to your decision to
place tremendous responsibilities on her shoulders.  You know, in a way,
you've paid her a compliment.  There are important universal directions in
the balance, and you are willing to allow Ztlaf to be in the thick of them. 
Perhaps one day you'll swallow the pride you are continually accusing me of
having and admit that you are proud of Ztlaf."

          ***       ***       ***

     Kira was exhausted.  She had been talking to Enterprise crew members all
night, granting mini tours and assisting the medical team.  She was nearly
worn out.  She stopped by Quark's for a booster; she was tired, but she also
had a lot of nervous energy built up from the past week's anxieties and
frustrations.  She wanted to do something thoroughly hedonistic -- perhaps a
steam bath and a book, or a bad, decadent holovid.  She headed for her
quarters to freshen up and decide what she would do for herself before
getting a much-needed night's sleep.

     As she stepped from the turbolift and headed for her quarters, she
nearly ran into a young Bajoran woman.  The woman seemed to be concentrating
on something, and didn't notice Kira.

     "Excuse me."

     The woman looked up.  Kira felt a rush of heat -- she had rarely seen
such an attractive woman on the station.  It must be one of the freighter's
crew, she thought, as she stared into the other woman's eyes.

     "Sorry; I was -- somewhere else."

     "Why?  This place isn't so bad," Kira smiled, hoping her attempt at
humor didn't sound foolish.  Her nose was warm and her head felt light -- oh,
she hadn't felt this kind of instant reaction for quite a while.

     "I'm Major Kira Nerys."

     "I know who you are," said the woman, smiling.  "You have quite a
reputation on Bajor."

     Kira's face flushed.

     "I -- that was a lifetime ago."

     "Yes," the woman said, looking sad suddenly. "Lifetimes.  There are so
many lifetimes in one life, aren't there?"

     Kira started.  She heard something so familiar in that statement --
longing, regret, loneliness, helplessness.  Before she realized it, she had
stepped forward and taken the woman in her arms.  Inexplicably, the Bajoran
burst into tears, her body shaking.

     "Let's go to my quarters.  We can talk about it there.  What's your
name, by the way?"

     "Ro.  Ro Laren."

     Kira helped Ro to a small sofa in the back of her quarters and got them
cups of tea.  She sat quietly while Ro wept for a few moments.  When she had
quieted, she wiped her eyes and looked up, flushed and apologetic.

     "I'm really sorry, Major Kira.  I am not usually so emotional.  I've had
-- a hard time lately.  I'm torn between -- two worlds."

     "Please, Ro, call me Kira.  Do you want to talk about it?"

     "No.  No, I can't."

     "No, you *can* talk about it.  You just don't want to.  But that 's
fine.  If you change your mind and I'm available, we can talk."

     "You don't even know me."

     "Yes, I do.  I think I do."

     Ro looked at Kira steadily for a moment, seemingly considering her.

     "Yes, I suppose you might."

     Kira did not want to take advantage of the situation; this woman was
clearly in need of counsel and comfort.  She did not want to prey on her
obvious vulnerability.  But she was extremely attracted to her, and decided
it couldn't hurt to assess the situation more directly.  She moved closer to
Ro and reached for her hand.  Ro again looked into her eyes and Kira *felt*
rather than saw her mutual attraction.

     "Are you okay with this?" Kira asked, pulling the young woman toward
her.  "I'll stop whenever you want me to."

     "I'm fine.  I feel a lot better already."

     Kira smiled and leaned back, pulling Ro against her chest, Ro's head
cradled in the crook of Kira's arm.  Kira bent to flick her tongue across
Ro's nose.  Ro grabbed at Kira's shoulder, nuzzling against the caress.  They
kissed deeply but gently; each wanted, a warm, lingering quality to their
love-making.

     Kira carried Ro to the bunk, where she slowly removed Ro's clothing. 
After the removal of each garment, Kira stopped to caress Ro's body: her
arms, her legs, her breasts.  When Ro was naked, Kira stripped within seconds
and climbed onto the bunk beside her.  She straddled Ro's waist while
massaging her neck, shoulders and breasts.  Her fingers were strong and
comforting; she worked at the knots of tension so evident beneath the skin. 
Ro's nipples puckered, tingling at Kira's soft, but strong touch.  Kira slid
off to Ro's right side and started kissing Ro's breasts while she slid her
fingers back and forth among Ro's nose ridges.  Kira bent her head between
Ro's breasts and rhythmically drove her own nose against Ro.  The feel of
Ro's hard, hot nipples against her nose turned her blood molten.  She panted
with her growing excitement.  The women writhed together, their noses coming
together in heated, rapid caresses.  Each place one of her hands at the
other's mouth, sliding their fingers in and out.  Their fingertips tingled
and boiled with the touch of their tongues.  They moved together in a
frenzied dance, moving toward their respective orgasms, riding the building
tension and becoming increasingly vocal.  Suddenly and simultaneously, each
woman moaned loudly, both bodies convulsing fitfully, both women sneezing
several times -- the Bajoran equivalent of coming.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Security!  Please, someone send security!"

     Odo and three security guards raced for the lift once Odo had
ascertained via the computer the location of the distress call.  When they
had arrived, they found an elderly Cardasian man, standing over a Cardasian
child.  The child was perhaps ten years old.  Her body was motionless, a
vicious phaser burn scarred her torso.

     "Odo here.  Medical emergency, section 17B."

     He turned and stared at the old man, who was trembling violently.

     "Why did you call security alone?  This child needs medical help."

     "Chief, sir, I don't think he needs to hear that right now," whispered
a guard quietly.

     "Did you see who shot your -- granddaughter, is it?"

     "Yes.  Yes, that's right.  I saw who shot her.  I saw him.  I saw him."

     "Sir, I cannot help you unless you calm down and tell me everything you
know.  I know that you are frightened for your granddaughter, but please,
help us to do our job."

     Dr. Bashir hurried toward them, a tricorder at the ready.  His face grew
pale as he approached.  He didn't need the tricorder to tell him what was
already quite obvious, but for the sake of appearances, he moved it over the
child's body anyway.

     "I'm terribly sorry, sir.  She is gone.  I can do nothing for her."

     The elderly Cardasian bellowed a cry of pain and anger.

     "You must get him!  You must!  Get him!"

     "We *will*, sir.  If you tell me who he was, or what you saw --"

     "It was a *Bajoran*.  A Bajoran!  And it was written right on his
jacket, right there for me to see."

     "What was written, sir?  Please, calm down and tell Odo what was written
on the jacket so that we can find the man who did this," said Bashir softly.

     "*Maquis*!"

OH, CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN! (Pt. XVII)

          Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "Ztlaf, we must speak."

     "Not now.  I want to see Jean-Luc.  He is finally alone."

     "You may go to him as soon as I've talked to you; it's very important,
Ztlaf."

     "All right.  What is it?"

     "I have just come from a Continuum summons."

     "And?"

     "I told them I had no intention of allowing you to sacrifice your Q
essence so that Picard could live.  It is not required."

     "Will I be able to stay with him?"

     "No.  You have a choice.  I will use your Q essence to give Picard life
-- in effect, it will be you giving him his life back, except that you do not
have the knowledge to accomplish it.  When full Q give life to those who have
died, that member must be granted essence through the efforts of a handful of
Continuum members.  I have garnered some support and if you wish, I will use
myself to give him life.  If I do, you may only see him again accompanied by
me, Amanda or another Q, until it has been decided otherwise.  You must
return with me to the Continuum, to train toward being granted status of full
Q."

     "Are you mad?  They'll never allow you to do that.  Why are you playing
with me like this?  You offer me full Q status when I know you do not have
the authority to grant it alone."

     "That is why you must come back for further training, to prove that you
are worthy."

     "Haven't I?"

     "We will discuss this if you choose --"

     "Do *you* think I'm worthy?  Answer me.  You find it so easy to
criticize and cut, but so hard to praise and encourage."

     "Yes, Ztlaf.  I think you are worthy, more than worthy."

     Ztlaf looked at his energy, studying its shadows; he seemed sincere, but
then, he could make her see whatever he wished.

     "If you mean that -- thank you, Father."

     "If you accept this, you cannot meet your brother Odo.  Ever.  You may
only go to him as his sister if you become a shape-shifter.  Otherwise, you
may go to him as a Q, or find a way to help him without meeting him at all. 
Either way, he will need our assistance soon.  If you become a shape-shifter
and give up your own Q essence, I must remove all memories of you from Picard
and Beverly Crusher.  The information they have about the shape-shifters
which you supplied will change soon, so I will erase all information about
them from Starfleet databases no matter what choice you make."

     "Additionally, I will have to remove memories of Picard from your mind,
Ztlaf.  If you become a full shape-shifter."

     "What?  Why?"

     "Because, Ztlaf, you don't realize it now, but as a full-blooded shape-
shifter, you will not be as strong emotionally or physically.  I am -- the Q
are responsible for causing you enough pain.  You have no idea what you will
be giving up if you choose the original compromise, nor can you fathom how
different your life will be without Q powers."

     "I will make a fine life for myself, just as a being who loses the power
of sight or hearing."

     "Of course, Ztlaf.  I have no doubt that you would survive.  The
difference for you is that you are being given a choice."

     "Either way I lose Picard."

     "Yes, in a sense.  You may still visit him once in a while as a Q; I
plan to drop in from time to time."

     "Then there is no question about it.  If Picard must forget me if I
become a shape-shifter, I refuse that choice."

     "Don't be a fool.  You must decide according to what is best for *you*,
Ztlaf.  In a very short time, from Our perspective, Picard will be gone.  As
a full Q, you will live forever, barring some unlikely circumstances which we
will discuss when you are ready.  Picard is not the center of the universe."

     "I also don't want to lose you, Daddy dear."

     "Well, that's altogether different."

     "Of course, Father.  For you *are* the center of the universe, are you
not?"

     "You watch it, Ztlaf," Q said in mock anger.

     "Why?  What are you going to do to me?  Send me to my room?  Make me a
humanoid?"

          ***       ***       ***

     Data prowled about the promenade.  The rest of the Enterprise crew had
retired to guest quarters for much-needed rest.  Data hadn't been needed all
that much; he was feeling bored and a bit lonely.  Geordi had spent the
entire evening talking with Miles and Keiko; Dr. Crusher had spent all of her
time with Deanna or Worf or both.  Data found that he was in the mood for an
intimate encounter.  He had discovered, to his dismay, that Dr. Soong had
apparently been uncomfortable with male-male encounters.  Data had found
himself avoiding males with whom he had had intimate contact before the
emotion chip was inserted.  He had accessed his files on Dr. Soong and had
discovered that his creator had had several male-male relationships, but that
he had not enjoyed them particularly much.  He had apparently decided to
build this discomfort into the chip.  Data had spent the past hour reading
about virulent homophobia on several worlds and could not find amid the
information any logical reason why there should be a problem with male-male
intimate encounters.  Therefore, he had made it his goal to seek out a male
partner.

     Data was surprised to see Lt. Barclay at the bar, swirling the dregs of
a pinkish drink about in a glass.  Quark was putting bottles and glasses in
the recycler; Barclay watched as they disappeared into nothingness.

     "Lieutenant Barclay."

     "Oh, hello, sir."

     "Why are you not asleep, Mr. Barclay?"

     "I didn't want to be alone quite yet, sir."

     "You seem to be alone here, Mr. Barclay."

     "Yes, well . . . I was hoping I wouldn't be -- going back to my quarters
alone, sir.  You uh, you know what I mean, sir?"

     "Ah,  Yes, I know what you mean.  Mr. Barclay, do you mind if I ask you
a rather personal question?"

     "No, I guess not, sir."

     "I will not ask it if you are uncomfortable, Lieutenant."

     "If I don't like your question, I -- I just won't answer it, sir. 
Okay?"

     "All right.  Are you looking for a female partner or a male partner this
evening?"

     "I . . . I . . . sir?"

     "Were you hoping to bring a man or a woman back to your quarters?"

     "Well, I usually find women attractive, sir.  Once in a while, I uh,
find a man attractive.  Commander Ri . . . never mind, sir."

     "You find Commander Riker attractive?"

     "Yes; but please, please don't tell him, sir."

     "I won't tell him.  Have you and he ever had a --"

     "N-n-no.  He wouldn't -- I mean, I wouldn't, I mean -- it just wouldn't
work sir.  May we talk about something else, please?"

     "Certainly.  Do you find me to be an eligible partner, Reg?"

     Barclay stared at Data, open-mouthed.  He flushed and glanced away, then
slowly brought his eyes back.

     "You don't mind that I called you Reg, do you?"

     "N-no, sir.  I just didn't expect -- I mean, I know that you have -- sex
-- with men and women and aliens of no specified gender.  But I never thought
that you, you know, that you sought them yourself."

     "You are quite right that in the past I did not actively seek intimate
encounters; I have not taken the initiative in that regard.  However, you may
have heard that Geordi inserted the emotion chip we extricated from Lore.  It
was activated earlier today."

     "So . . . so you're saying that you are interested in -- having sex --
with me, sir?"

     "If you are so inclined, Reg."

     Barclay sat very still, thinking.  He, as usual, was terrified of saying
something foolish.  He hadn't had sex in a very long time and the last time
had been a disaster.  He wasn't sure he wanted to learn what it was like to
have sex with an android, nor was he sure he wanted Data to be his next sex
partner.  After all, Data was no longer the unfeeling android who would not
place judgment on Barclay's performance.  He would actually be able to
appraise Barclay, and if there was one thing Barclay hated, it was being
appraised by someone in authority who could make him feel even more self-
conscious and timid than he already was.  On the other hand, he was in the
mood for a little casual intimacy, and there was something to be said for
having such an encounter with an acquaintance rather than a total stranger. 
Besides, there did not seem to be any other choices available.  Barclay
decided that he preferred the possibility of humiliating himself with Data
than facing yet another night by himself.

     "Shall we go to my quarters or yours, Commander?"

     "Please, Reg.  Call me Data tonight."

          ***       ***       ***

     Ztlaf slipped into Picard's quarters and slid noiselessly into bed
beside him.  Picard was exhausted and miserable, having spent an entire
evening trying not to feel uncomfortable and defensive around Commander
Sisko.  He was so troubled he could not sleep, despite his fatigue.

     "Stop it, Jean-Luc.  It will be all right.  I'm going to help you go to
sleep."

     Picard sighed deeply and turned to Ztlaf's waiting arms.  She pulled him
tightly against her.  There was so much she wanted to say to him, but he was
not in the mood for words.  She knew this was the last time they would be
together for quite some time, and the next time could not be an intimate one. 
Ztlaf doubted whether she would ever share intimacy with Picard again.  She
filled his thoughts with warmth and calm, lulling him towards sleep.

          ***       ***       ***

     Barclay stood uncomfortably, not knowing what to do next.  Data went and
sat down on the edge of the bunk, watching him for a few seconds.

     "Reg, am I making you uncomfortable?  Have you changed your mind?  I
will not be insulted if you have.  I know this is difficult for you, given
our respective positions.  If you are concerned that I will not be discreet -
-"

     "No, sir -- Data.  It is I, not you."

     "What about you, Reg?"

     "I'm -- well, Data, I know that now you're probably a lot closer to
being human than you were only several hours ago, but I -- I feel different
about you; it's almost as if I were a guinea pig and you were the scientist. 
I know from what I've heard on the Enterprise that you -- indulged -- er --
experienced sex with others before because you were interested in the variety
of reactions and interactions each encounter brought to you.  Your sexual
liaisons were material for you to analyze.  I find myself wondering if you re
still doing that, despite the fact that you are now experiencing emotions. 
I assume that I will be your first -- encounter with emotions, and I don't
know how I feel about that."

     "You are not, Reg.  I have already experienced an intimate encounter
since insertion of the chip."

     "With Geordi, sir?"

     "No.  With a woman."

     "See, that's just it, sir.  Am I simply a means to an end?"

     "In a sense, Reg.  I am disturbed by the apparent distaste for male-male
encounters programmed into the chip by Dr. Soong.  I feel it is irrational
and deprives a being of pleasurable experiences, along with the ability to
gain understanding of an integral aspect of life for all beings."

     "I don't like the idea of being the center of an experiment, Data."

     "What would this encounter be to you were it not me here, Reg?  It would
be nothing more than what it is *with* me -- that is, the quest for
companionship, preferably involving sex, so that you will not be alone.  If
I hadn't come along and someone else had, that individual would be here now. 
Therefore, Reg, am I not your means to a different end?"

     "I suppose -- I suppose you're right, Data," Barclay smiled.

     "Come here, Reg.  I will not do anything with which you find yourself
uncomfortable, nor will I continue doing anything which becomes
uncomfortable.  You must tell me immediately if anything which occurs bothers
you in any way or causes you physical pain."

     "I definitely will."

     Data reached for Barclay's hand and pulled him into his arms.  Data
kissed Barclay gently; he wanted to be sure that at every step a part of him
would be aware of Barclay's responses.  He had been so caught up earlier that
he had been ignorant of Dr. Crusher's fear and pain.  

     Barclay's body was extremely rigid, but his tension began to ease at
Data's gentle touch.  He was surprised at how comforting the embrace of an
android could be.  He had needed the feeling of security a warm hug could
bring for quite a long time.  Barclay wrapped his arms around Data's
shoulders and allowed Data to slide his tongue between Barclay's lips.  Their
kiss gradually intensified, their tongues traveling back and forth from one
mouth to the other.  Data's hand slid into the casual pants Barclay had been
wearing, brushed teasingly against the hardening cock and then lowered the
pants toward Barclay's ankles.  Barclay kicked off his shoes as he and Data
continued to kiss, and allowed Data to remove them from around his feet. 
Data finished removing Barclay's clothing, then took a few seconds to strip. 
Barclay's eyes went immediately to Data's penis.  He was surprised to see
that it was of average size; Barclay felt that if he were to create an
android, he would give it a bigger dick than he himself had.  In fact,
Barclay was more endowed than was Data.  For some reason, Barclay found he
was proud of this fact, and it made him bolder.

     Data returned to the bunk and began massaging Barclay's shoulders.  By
the time he had finished with the massage, Barclay was feeling physically
better than he had in weeks.  He turned toward Data, who was kneeling beside
him and closed his lips around Data's penis.  Data started at the feeling;
Dr. Crusher and he had not bothered with much foreplay; Data had never been
given head before the insertion of the chip.  The feelings which rushed
inside him were a shock, a rather pleasant shock.  He could not comprehend
Dr. Soong's discomfort with this type of encounter.  After all, who best to
know what a male wants to feel except another man?

     Barclay could feel Data's enjoyment, which excited him a great deal.  He
took all of him into his mouth, closing his lips tightly about the shaft and
bobbing his head swiftly up and down.  To Barclay's amazement, Data began to
breathe heavily and make odd noises in his throat -- noises somewhat
different from those Barclay had heard when doing this before, but there was
no mistaking that they were the sounds of lust, of carnal pleasure.  

     Barclay felt himself becoming extremely excited and fought to keep
control and hold his climax at bay for a while.  He wondered briefly whether
Data was capable of ejaculation; he thought of asking, but did not want to
stop, and he suspected Data would not appreciate the interruption either. 
With his left hand, Barclay stroked Data's testicles; with his right, he
reached up and rubbed at Data's chest -- everything about him felt so real
that Barclay often found himself forgetting that he was making love to an
android.

     Data interrupted Barclay long enough to lie down beside him so that he
could take Barclay's cock into his mouth.  They stroked and licked one
another for long moments, each growing dizzy with his attempt to forestall
orgasm.  Suddenly, Barclay realized that he could be the first man to have
sex with Data who Data would *feel*; the idea of it, the fullness of it, hit
him with a wave of excitement and pride.  Data would always remember this --
yes, Barclay knew that Data remembered everything anyway, but just as Data
remembered Tasha so well because of their encounter, Data would remember
Barclay as his first male/male encounter after gaining the gift of emotion.

     Barclay pulled away from Data, his heart thumping with anticipation. 
Would Data let him, or was Data intent on being the one on top?  Summoning
all of his courage -- and there wasn't all that much to summon -- Barclay
shoved Data onto his stomach and straddled him.  Data made no move to resist,
nor did he voice disapproval.  Completely unwilling to tempt fate, Barclay
placed the tip of his penis at the entrance to Data's anus and grasped Data's
buttocks to pull them apart.  

     He slid in easily -- again, it was pleasantly real.  Data gasped -- at
least, that was the closest description Barclay came up with -- and began
moving with Barclay's thrusts.  Barclay grasped Data's shoulders and closed
his eyes, the hot ball of desire and excitement radiating from his groin,
spreading through him.  The night was turning out far better than he could
have hoped to imagine.

          ***       ***       ***

     Ro lay sleeping beside Kira, her sleep full of terrifying images.  Kira
teetered on the brink of sleep, her body and mind tired but contented. 
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and reached for the insistent comm badge.

     "Kira, this is Sisko.  There has been a murder on the station.  A
Cardasian child.  There is reason to suspect the Maquis."

     "i'll be right there!"

     Kira leaped from bed, frantically pulling on her uniform.  Ro awoke, at
first uncertain of where she was.  When her mind had cleared sufficiently,
she looked at Kira questioningly.

     "There's an emergency situation on the station.  Stay here; I'll be back
when I can."

     So, Ro thought, someone was killed.  How quickly they had decided on a
target.

     "What is it?  Another virus?"

     Ro flushed; she felt suddenly sick, playing the alarmed onlooker when
this woman had been so loving to her; Ro shrank from the look of sick horror
on Kira's face.

     "A child was killed."

     It was Ro's turn to look horrified.

     "A *child*?"

     "I'm sorry; I can't discuss anything more with you.  Besides, I don't
have any further details.  Just stay here and don't allow anyone to enter."

     The door swished shut behind Kira.  When Ro heard the woman's quick
footsteps fade, she collapsed on the bunk, sobbing.  How could they?  How
could they target a child?  It had to be a mistake; surely they could not
have become so cruel in their cause.  Please!  It has to be a mistake!  Sobs
racked her; she dug her nails painfully into her palms.  In her heart, she
knew the truth and the truth was that she had been part of this horror,
whether she intended it or not, whether fully informed or not.  As the tears
poured from her eyes and the helpless, angry sobs shook her, she felt the
last thin strand of her dying loyalty to the Maquis snap.  There was only one
thing to do.
Oh, Captain, My Captain! (Pt. XVIII) (xxx)


          Copyright 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "The first thing I want to know is how the hell someone sabotaged the
security system.  As soon as that phaser was fired, Security should have been
alerted," Commander Sisko said, his eyes shooting daggers at the assembled
group.

     "I suspect, Commander, that both the leak of information concerning the
means by which the infection was spread, as well as the dismantling of our
Security systems, are the result of insiders," said Odo.

     "I located the Security override, Commander," said Miles O'Brien.  "The
alarms were seriously damaged, seemingly by a corrosive substance.  I have
connected the station to the back-up system, which had been tampered with
only slightly; its extra protections and redundancies were apparently too
complicated for the persons responsible for this.  Obviously, they managed to
interfere with the primary connections, since the back-up didn't kick in.  I
agree with Odo, sir.  This whole situation, it seems, is an internal
conspiracy."

     "Not entirely internal, however, Commander.  I suspect the planning went
on outside the station."

     "All right.  Assuming there are people attempting to bring the
Federation and the Cardasians to war for a moment, let's get some other
matters settled.  Who is the gentleman whose grandchild was killed?  I was
under the impression Garak was the only Cardasian living on the station."

     "I can answer that, sir," Dr. Bashir said quickly, before Dax, who had
been preparing to answer, could speak.  "Apparently, Garak helped the man --
Ulrat is his name -- slip onto the station by calling in some favors.  The
Obsidian Order learned recently that Ulrat's daughter was involved in a
dissident group during the Cardasian occupation of Bajor.  They intended to
take Ulrat and his granddaughter hostage, to lure the daughter out of hiding. 
Ulrat came to me before the outbreak of the infection, asking that I
surgically alter him and his grandchild."

     "You didn't stop to think that a Cardasian asking for surgical
alterations might be a way of hiding a Cardasian spy, Julian?" Kira demanded.

     "I agree, Doctor.  Why wasn't this brought to my attention?"

     "And mine." grumbled Odo.

     "It was an unforgivable oversight, and I'm sorry.  I was preparing a
memo -- you were in a meeting at the time, having asked not to be disturbed -
- when the first influx of Andorian Brain Fever victims began pouring into
the infirmary.  I put it on hold."

     "All right, Doctor; we've other, more pressing matters to deal with than
this foolish omission of yours.  Regardless of the Cardasians' stance on the
child's parent, they are not going to be pleased with the fact that a person
apparently acting on behalf of the Maquis killed a defenseless child."

               ***            ***            ***

     Jake was restless.  His dad had said that a little girl had been killed
by a phaser blast on the station.  He wished his father had permitted him to
go to the meeting; he was no scaredy-cat, but for goodness sakes, a kid was
killed.  

     "Urgent message for Jake Sisko from Nog.  Will you accept?"

     "Yes, Computer; patch him through."

     "Jake," the frightened Ferengi boy's lips quivered; his eyes darted
right and left in their sockets.  "Jake, my uncle says there was a murder on
board."

     "Yeah.  A Cardasian girl."

     "Jake, I'm scared.  Father and Uncle are counting today's profits and
they won't let me in the office with them.  I'm all alone.  Jake, I'm scared. 
Can you come over?"

     "My dad told me not to leave, and it's not surprising why he did.  I'm
not leaving here until he tells me it's safe."

     "They wouldn't kill you!  You're the son of the Commander!  Jake,
please.  Look at me; I'm shaking.  Just run over; it'll take you under a
minute if you go fast."

     "Yeah -- if the turbolift isn't sabotaged; if I'm not targeted by some
kid-killer; if -- look, Nog, you're safe inside your father's quarters.  Go
to sleep; practice reading and writing to take your mind off of it."

     "Jake, I thought you were my friend!"

     "Oh, come on, Nog.  This isn't some ordinary night, you know.  This is
serious."

     "I *know* how serious it is.  That's why I'm so *scared*.  Please, Jake! 
Please."

     "I'll be over if I can get a security guard to go with me.  Jake out. 
Computer, break connection."

     Jake scrolled through the list of security guards listed "On Duty" for
this shift.  He selected one he and his father knew well.

     "Computer, call for a connection to Security Officer Melnor."

     "Hey, Jake; you okay?"

     "Yeah, I'm okay.  Could you do me a favor? -- I'm -- a little scared
here alone.  Could you come get me and take me over to Nog's?"

     "I don't think your father would approve, Jake."

     "Look, I know you can't stay with me, because you've got your shift.  I
don't trust anyone else, and I would rather be with a friend than alone here. 
Please.  I'll talk to Dad later if he gets angry with you."

     "I'm not supposed to leave my post -- especially after tonight's
incident, jake."

     "It'll only take two or three minutes."

     "All right, Jake.  I'll come right over."

     That was almost too easy, Jake thought.  He shrugged off the frightened
knot building within him.  He was becoming as paranoid as Nog.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Melnor to Yashira."

     "Go ahead."

     "We've got an unexpected, but fortuitous circumstance."

     "And that is?"

     "Sisko's kid wants me to take him to his friend's; it appears the
commander's little boy is frightened."

     "Everything is falling right into our hands, isn't it?  Makes one a
little nervous -- but then, I've never been fond of superstition."

     "If it's luck, let's take advantage of it.  I prefer to think it's Fate. 
After all, things as they are now are wrong."

     "You take the kid where he wants to go.  I'll be sure to send someone
after you.  When he is almost at his destination, I'll send you a fake
security alert.  You get the hell out of there; we'll take care of Jake
Sisko.  After all, we can't allow the death of a helpless Cardasian girl to
go unanswered."


               ***            ***            ***

     Dr. Crusher rested her head on Deanna's breasts as Deanna rubbed the
tension from the doctor's neck.

     "That is sooo nice, Deanna.  I am utterly exhausted."

     "Luckily, you are very likely finished with the taxing part of your
mission here, Beverly," Deanna smiled.  "Good news for Galoc.  Have you
spoken with Dr. Bashir about using the station's facilities for the
operation?"

     "Yes; he's willing.  He's an excellent, devoted doctor, but he really is
quite a gossip and never stops talking about himself or everyone else."

     "He's very insecure."

     "I didn't need you to tell me that, Deanna."

     "In that case, what *do* you keep me around for?"

     Beverly laughed and pulled herself completely on top of Deanna, kissing
her.

     "Is that it?  I'm your little love toy, to be used at your discretion?"

     "Or at my indiscretion; depends on the mood I'm in."

     "And what mood are you in tonight?"

     "Something light and romantic; no rough Klingon sex or overwhelmingly
passionate Betazed body-quakes."

     "*Body-quakes*?  I beg your pardon, Beverly!  What, do tell, is a body-
quake?"

     "You know what I'm talking about; don't be coy, Deanna.  If you have a
better description, share it."

     Deanna giggled, seemingly unable to stop.

     "Would you -- would you *stop*?  You're going to make me hysterical;
your laugh cracks me up."

     "So crack up," said Deanna between giggles, rolling Beverly onto her
back and proceeding to tickle her.

     "Stop it . . . stop it, Deanna!  I'm serious; you had better . . .
better . . . stop!"

     "Or you'll do what, exactly?"


     Beverly managed to grab Deanna's left nipple in her mouth and bit, just
enough to sting.

     "Hey!  I think one night alone with Worf was enough for you, young
lady."

     "Well, thank you -- for the young lady remark, anyway.  Are you saying
I can't have your Klingon all to myself any more?"

     "My Klingon?  Worf belongs to no one, and you know it."

     "Oh, I don't know.  Let's go wake him up and see if we can't convince
him otherwise."

               ***            ***            ***

     Picard awoke suddenly.  He didn't know why, but he felt that something
was wrong somewhere.  Ztlaf lay beside him, her arms around him tightly, her
eyes half-shut.

     "Ztlaf, I feel as if I've gotten a full night's sleep, but it isn't more
than twenty minutes since you came in."

     "I said I would help you, Jean-Luc."

     "You didn't have to give me a full night's sleep in twenty minutes. 
There's nothing to do till morning -- nothing much for me to do here when
morning comes, actually."

     "How about some tea and light dessert?"

     "Might as well.  Of course, I wonder what you mean by 'light dessert'
Ztlaf."

     Ztlaf did not answer.  Picard rolled over her, stopping to kiss her for
a moment.  He walked over to the replicator and ordered two hot Earl Greys
and two pieces of Bajoran flota pie.  The replicator did not respond.

     "I thought these damned replicators were put back on line," he murmured,
turning away.

     "No matter, Jean-Luc.  You say you are no longer tired.  Let's get
dressed and see what's available on the replicator down the hall.  It has a
limited selection, but it's mostly snack stuff."

     "Can't you replicate -- or create -- dessert for us?"

     "That depends what type of dessert you have in mind.  Seriously, Jean-
Luc, I am not capable of making something tangible.  That is beyond my power. 
Come on.  Let's go get some dessert and bring it back.  Then I'll remind you
what it is I am quite capable of."

     Before she and Picard exited, Ztlaf suddenly grasped him tightly in her
arms, forcing a deep, long kiss, which turned to a mutual, passionate kiss
very quickly.

     "Ztlaf, my goodness!  You act as if I'll never see you again!"

               ***            ***            ***

     "Are you ready, Tali?"

     "Yes."

     "You look disgustingly Cardasian.  Good luck to you.  Get it done,
signal me and we'll get you out of there.  If possible, leave a witness to
the deed."

     "The 'deed' is the murder of a teenaged boy."

     "A necessary evil which will, hopefully sooner than later, lead to a
successful mission."

               ***            ***            ***

     Data watched Barclay sleep.  He had done this often before insertion of
the chip -- watched his sexual partners sleep -- but he was interested in
seeing if the experience would be different now.  It was somehow
disappointing that observing someone sleep did not evoke feelings.  He had
learned that many lovers enjoyed watching their companions sleep.  Perhaps he
would, too, once he had found someone whom he cared about deeply, someone who
would be more than an interesting and/or enjoyable physical encounter.

     Suddenly, Data heard the shrill sound of a Security Klaxon.  He
hesitated for a moment, briefly considering the fact that he had no authority
to act in emergency situations here.  But his concern drove him to his feet
and out the door.

               ***            ***            ***

     Picard walked swiftly and quietly past the rooms of other guests,
including those of his crew.  He turned the corner and passed the quarters of
the Ferengi Quark.  He saw the replicator at the end of the hall and headed
toward it.  All around him there was silence -- it was almost *too* silent.

     From his left, he saw two figures approaching -- a Security guard and a
young boy -- Sisko's son, wasn't it?  Picard tried to remember his name.

     "Jake; his name is Jake, Jean-Luc."

     Picard looked briefly at Ztlaf; she had started out walking beside him
in her humanoid form, but now she was invisible.

     Picard heard the bleep of a comm badge.

     "Jake; I've got to go.  Get yourself to Nog's quarters right now."

     Picard met the security guard's gaze briefly -- was it his imagination,
or did the guard look terrified?

     Behind him, Picard heard the soft sound of the turbolift as it came to
a stop and deposited a passenger.  The individual, Picard noted at once, was
Cardasian, and he was holding a phaser.

     "Hello, Captain Picard," Jake mumbled -- he didn't like the captain
because his dad said he was responsible for Jake's mom's death.

     "Hello son.  Where are you going, so late?  Does your father know --"

     Jake wasn't paying attention.  He passed Picard and turned to walk the
few paces to Nog's quarters.  Picard turned just in time to see the Cardasian
raise his phaser, aiming directly at the back of the boy's head.

 Oh, Captain, My Captain! (Pt. XIX) 

     
     Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "I thought you said you weren't in the mood for rough Klingon sex,
Beverly," Deanna teased.

     "And I'm not.  I was thinking more along the lines of a late-night poker
game."

     "*Poker*?"

     "Sure. -- And why not?"

     "It has been a busy day; Will and Worf are probably sleeping fitfully."

     "I've had the busiest day out of all of you!"

     "I beg your pardon.  I've been swamped dealing with the cacophony of
feelings aboard the station."

     "Oh, poor baby!"

     You're right, Beverly; "I think we should wake Worf up.  I'm going to
ask him to give you a spanking."

     "And after the spanking, the oral sex?"

     The shrill scream of the security Klaxon stilled their verbal romp.

          ***       ***       ***

     Guinan paced back and forth in her quarters.  She knew something bad was
about to happen; she could feel it.  She had been asleep and had dreamed of
Picard's capture by the Cardasians and his subsequent torture at the hands of
Gul Madred.  Why had she dreamed about that?  Sure, the station was in danger
of a confrontation with the Cardasian High Command, but what had that to do
with Picard?  

     She felt a push inside her mind -- Jean-Luc was in trouble.  What type,
she had no idea.  But she must talk to him.  Right now.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Will, what is it?"

     "I don't really know, Targala.  I can't sleep.  I feel as if something
is very wrong, that something is going to happen, or that something has
happened, something beyond what the crew was briefed about earlier."

     "Have you had -- hunches -- such as these before?"

     "No, not in *anticipation* of something.  I'm going to take a walk.  Do
you want to come?"

     "I already have, thanks to you.  I'm tired.  I would rather sleep,
thanks."

     "I'll be back soon.  I think I just need to clear my head."

          ***  ***       ***

     At the first piercing shriek of the security alarms, Laurene and Worf
leaped from the bunk, threw on their uniforms, grabbed phasers and raced from
the room, Worf tossing a shout over his shoulder at Alexander, commanding the
boy in no uncertain terms to stay in their quarters.

          ***       ***       ***

     There was no time to warn the boy, so Picard leaped between the aimed
phaser and Jake.  At the same instant, the phaser fired.

     SEARING HOT AGONY -- HOT, ENGULFING VOID . . . then -- nothing.

     The bewildered Cardasian stared at Picard's body.  He gritted his teeth
and stepped over the dead captain, still intent on his mission.  Jake had,
however, sized up the situation and had managed to escape; he was nowhere to
be seen.

     "Get me out of here!" the man shrieked into his comm badge.

     Just then, Will Riker, Worf, Data and a DS9 security guard converged on
the scene.  Worf stunned the Cardasian and removed his comm badge, tossing
it.  The badge disappeared, without its owner.

     "Captain!  Captain!"

     Will knelt beside the captain, his lips shouting the words "Medical
emergency!" as his heart sunk to his feet.  

     "What has happened here?" demanded Commander Sisko, as he, Odo and Major
Kira rushed from the turbolift.

     "Captain Picard -- has been killed," said Will Riker.  He felt stunned
-- was he dreaming?  This couldn't be real -- it just couldn't.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Well, what is taking so long, Amanda?"

     "Relax, Ztlaf.  Relax.  Everything has been taken care of.  Picard
*will* be revived.  I promise you; you have not been tricked."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Oh, God!  Jean-Luc!"

     Beverly Crusher scanned him with the tricorder three, four, five times. 

     "Beverly!  Stop it!" Deanna grabbed the device.

     "He's gone!  Come here!"

     Deanna was weeping and trembling; she held Beverly tightly against her. 
Their eyes kept coming back to Picard's, which were open, a calm expression
glued to his face.

     "Deanna!  Deanna, what is it?"

     "It -- it can't be!  No one could survive -- the tricorder can't be
wrong."

     "What?  What, damn it!"

     "He's -- I'm sensing him!  Confusion, disorientation, from a long way
off.  Look, Beverly!  The burn -- it's *healing*!"

          ***       ***       ***

     Data was stunned.  He left the scene; no one had even noticed his
presence.  He felt so -- odd.  "Sick" perhaps described it best.  He did not
know where to go; he wanted to go somewhere, and nowhere.  He had never
experienced death in this way -- obviously.  He had not anticipated the
possibility that he would so soon after insertion of the chip.  He had been
as cool as ever when he had learned of the deaths from Andorian Brain Fever. 
For those people, he had no attachment; they were just names, casualties in
someone else's reality.  He had found it easy to scratch them off -- victims
of an illness.  A regrettable occurrence, but nothing to become disturbed
over.

     Data could not begin to sift through all of what he was feeling.  He
stopped suddenly, his aimless run cut short by the realization that his eyes
felt terribly hot -- they hurt; they were stinging, burning.  And they were
wet.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Dax to Commander Sisko.  Emergency."

     "I'm already viewing an emergency, Dax.  What is it now?"

     "I have just received word from Starbase 451.  They have intercepted an
encoded message on a secured channel -- I don't know how, and frankly, it
doesn't matter, Commander.  The Cardasian High Command has ordered the
destruction of this station.  Two harmless-looking freighters are being sent,
equipped to carry out the order."

          ***       ***       ***

     Dr. Crusher yanked the tricorder from Deanna as Dr. Bashir appeared.

     "His burn -- it's healing!  I -- I checked so many times, and he was
dead, no question."

     Guinan came up beside them, her expression a bizarre mixture of surprise
and fear.

     "He has done it again." she said quietly, as Picard stirred slightly.

     "What?  Who?" demanded Beverly.

     "Q," answered Guinan.  "He has saved him again."

     "Or maybe Ztlaf," said Deanna cautiously.

     "No.  It's Q -- definitely Q."

          ***       ***       ***

     "O'Brien to Odo."

     "Yes?"

     "A transporter was just activated in section 23A, sir.  I can't locate
the exact spot where the person emerged, but the diagnostic scanner says it's
a Cardasian."

     Data's keen hearing picked up the conversation between Odo and O'Brien. 
He glanced at a computer screen high up on the wall a few yards away from
him.

     "Computer, is this section 23A?"

     "Affirmative."

     Data sprinted down the corridor and nearly bumped into a Cardasian
holding a disrupter.

     They stopped a few paces from one another, the Cardasian aiming the
disrupter at Data's face.

     "Are you not Gul Madred?"

     "Do I know you?"

     "I am Data."

     "Oh, Data!  The android from the Enterprise!  Well, well, I hear your
captain has been shot, Data.  And the High Command has ordered the
destruction of this station.  Before that happens however, I am here to
finish what the Maquis couldn't in our name."

     "And what is that?"

     "A Cardasian child has been killed on this station.  I have orders to
fulfill the Maquis' plan -- obviously they are too disorganized to do it
themselves, so I'll see to the killing of the Commander's son.  One child for
another."

     "You must know that I will not let you do that."

     "This disrupter will destroy you, too, my friend.  What a fine night --
I'll remember it as long as I live -- Picard dead, this station destroyed,
and the Federation's one and only cyber boy turned into molten --"

     The disrupter was taken from the grinning Cardasian in the blink of an
eye, crushed between the android's hands and flung against the far wall.

     I'm afraid, Gul Madred that your memories won't be as complete as you
imagine.  But you are correct -- you will remember this night for as long as
you live -- very clearly."

     Data took the Cardasian's head in his hands.

     "Before you die, Gul Madred, I have a question.  How many lights are
there in this corridor?"

     With that, Data twisted violently, breaking the man's neck.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Captain Picard, can you hear me?"

     Picard opened his eyes and took in the scene: Bashir, Beverly and Deanna
staring bewildered; Guinan a bit behind them, smiling -- uncertainly; Will
Riker and Worf looking extremely relieved.

     It would have been a dishonorable death, felled by phaserfire without
the glories of battle."

     "I must disagree."

     Worf and Riker turned, surprised, to find Commander Sisko and his son approaching.

     "Jake tells me the captain took the shot that was meant for him."

          ***       ***       ***

     Data stood, horrified and shaking.  The crumpled body of Gul Madred, the
head twisted gruesomely so that his eyes seemed to be staring down the length
of his back -- what had he done?  He remembered the feeling he had had before
doing it -- a hot, charged push -- a breaking open, a bursting of -- feeling. 
His head had throbbed with -- with what?  Anger?  No, that was not strong
enough a word to describe what it had felt like.  Disgust?  No, that was more
like what he felt now, disgust at the vision before him, disgust with himself
for having created the vision singlehandedly.  Hatred?  Yes, perhaps.

     And still, as he tried to justify his actions, tried to make the
horrible sensations which coursed through him go away, he felt something else
pushing to overcome his -- guilt.  It felt good, too good to be justified
under the circumstances.  He shouldn't feel it, he told himself, whatever it
was. 

     "Data, Data, Data.  You wanted emotions for so long, and now that you
have them, you don't want them; you tell yourself you shouldn't feel this way
or that way.  Such an indecisive race, humans.  Oh, and you too.  Or should
we be counting you as human these days?"

     "Q, I am not used to feelings, whether positive or negative, and you are
quite aware of this fact.  And I believe I *should* be feeling what I'm
feeling under these circumstances?  Guilt, or --"

     "Well, getting to use contractions now, are we?  Little by little,
you've been slipping them into your vocabulary.  I certainly hope Lore's
personality is not on its way."

     "Q, I am beginning to understand why you are so disliked among the
Enterprise crew."

     "Oh, go ahead, Data; join the ranks of the conformists who don't realize
my great value to your precious bunch.  Are you aware, Data, that your dear
captain is not, in fact, dead?"

     "I saw him only a few moments ago.  He was dead.  Or are you saying you
have revived him again?"

     "Just a little errand I ran for my dear friends on the Enterprise, you
who are so deserving and have shown yourselves to be such devoted fans!"

     "I do not understand you, Q.  You seem to want to engender dislike
against you, but you continually come to our rescue, particularly the
captain's.  If you can so easily restore life, why did you not restore the
lives of those lost to the Borg, those whom you are responsible for killing?"

     "Simple, Data, my friend.  It was necessary -- it was written that way. 
If it had happened differently, the next encounter with the Borg would have
been far worse than it was.  And, incidentally, though they say amongst you
savages that a little guilt is good for the soul when one plays god and takes
a life, Gul Madred's time was up; your killing him saved Jake Sisko's life,
prevented the Gul's wife from a few more decades of physical and emotional
abuse, and saved his little girl from becoming mistrustful of men and a
hopeless racist.  You have rid the universe of a tiny grain of virulent
poison.  There now.  Do you feel better?"

     "I do not."

     "Data, for goodness sake, this man tortured your captain for days on
end.  He wouldn't have blinked an eye while killing Picard in the slowest,
most painful way possible."

     "I can absorb what you are saying and believe it; I know it all to be
true; you have no reason to lie about the Gul's family; I know that he would
have not hesitated or wasted any time regretting his actions had he succeeded
tonight, and I am sure that he remembered his torturing of Captain Picard
with the zeal of a heartless extremist.  And yet, I cannot feel *good* about
what I have done.  I do not think this is a fault, and I will not apologize
for it, or lament the fact that I feel this way.  As long as I continue to
feel this way when faced with death that I have caused, I am secure in the
knowledge that I will not evolve into another Lore."

     "Oh, admit the other part of what you're feeling, Data.  You can throw
all that self-righteous garbage at me, but deep down, you are *glad* that he
is dead, and part of you enjoys the fact that you are the one responsible for
that.  The circle is closed; you avenged your captain."

     "All right, Q.  Yes.  What you say is true."

     "There, there.  Isn't confession good for the soul?  Oh, do you have a
soul, Data?"

          ***       ***       ***

     "What do you remember, Jean-Luc?"

     "Jake.  Jake Sisko.  You must find --"

     "My son is fine, Captain Picard.  Thanks to you.  But I don't
understand.  I was told you took a direct hit from a phaser set to kill."

     "He did, Commander," replied Bashir.  "Guinan -- this is Guinan here --
believes Q is responsible for reviving Picard."

     "*Q*?  If Q is on this station again, there is a hell of a lot more he
could do for us tonight!  Don't get me wrong; I am extremely glad Picard
survived, but there has been death stalking this station for the past week. 
We just had a meeting about -- oh, what am I doing standing around here
questioning the random mercy of an omnipotent being!  Q, if you're around
here, why don't you help me figure out what the hell I am going to do about
a station which shows continuing signs of sabotage and which will be
destroyed before the night is over if we can't think of a way to convince
Cardasia to back off?"

     "Are you saying that --"

     Data appeared then, informed Sisko of his encounter with Gul Madred and
confirmed the threat of the destruction of Deep Space 9.

     "As soon as Picard is feeling better, I want him to join us in my
office.  Commander, you, too.  And Worf and Data."

     "I am fine." said Picard, impatiently brushing aside Bashir's attempt to
have him placed on a stretcher and brought to the infirmary.

     "And I want Counselor Troi to be at the meeting as well.  We need to get
in touch with Cardasia to judge the strength of their intentions."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Hi, Ro.  I just came by to fill you in and then I've got to get to an
emergency meeting.  The station is in serious danger."

     "Kira, I have to tell you something."

     "Please, I can't right now.  If we're all very lucky, I'll be back in a
while and you can tell me then."

     "No!  You don't understand!  I have information which might help you! 
Bring me to the meeting.  I'll explain on the way."

          ***       ***       ***

     "Odo, Jake has filled me in on everything that he remembers.  I want you
to guard him personally until the meeting is over.  Here is a monitor; you
can listen to and participate in the meeting from here.  Slip this into your
ear; don't let Jake hear any of the meeting; I don't want to scare him any
more than he already has been."

     "What is happening with respect to the various sabotages of the
station?"

     "Miles has completely shut down the transporter system.  He has even
dismantled manual override."

     "In other words, we're all trapped here."

     "We're trapped here anyway.  If we take the chance and put the
transporter back on-line, there is no telling how many breaches we will risk,
and we'll have just as many enemies among us.  As long as our enemies,
whether Maquis or Cardasian are outside, we have a chance.  We're going to
contact Cardasia in the next few minutes.  Take care of my boy."

          ***       ***       ***

     The loud knock interrupted Garak's furious pacing.  

     "Who is it?" he asked, somewhat fearfully.

     "Garak, it's Julian.  Please, open the door."

     "Computer, please confirm the location of Dr. Julian Bashir.  Is he
beyond the door at this location?"

     "Affirmative."

     "Come in."

     "A little paranoid, Garak?  I wonder why!  You must know that we're
apparently going to be destroyed by the Cardasian High Command."

     "I am very aware of that, Doctor.  I can do nothing about it."

     "Nothing?  Surely there must be someone who gives a damn whether you
live or die?"

     "If there were such a someone, do you think I would be sent to this
station, amongst Bajorans?"

     "Oh, Garak, come on!  I know you are not totally without friends in
important places."

     "Not as friendly or as important as we both need and want, Doctor."

     Julian paused, searching the Cardasian's face.

     "You're genuinely terrified.  We really are in danger.  This isn't a
bluff, is it?"

     "No, Doctor; it certainly is no bluff.  I just don't understand it.  Why
don't they go after the Maquis, who have left calling cards everywhere
proclaiming the fact that they masterminded the whole thing?"

     "There are those who firmly believe that the Federation is a Maquis
apologist while at the same time acting in cohorts with it."

     "Both the Federation and Cardasia must know, respectively, that doing so
is too risky and too easily discovered."

     "Come on, Garak.  This whole situation isn't about reasons and
justifications.  It's about extremism, unwillingness to compromise.  You're
wasting time questioning the situation."

     "What should I do, then, Doctor?  Wait to die thinking of the futility
of it all?"

     "It's essentially the same thing.  Don't you have ideas for how we might
get through to Cardasia -- at least for a reprieve so that we can better
assess and correct the situation in a relatively peaceful, painless manner?"

     Garak made an exasperated noise.

     "I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking beaten.  "I just -- don't have the
choices you are so sure I have.  I'm not hiding anything -- I have as much to
lose as you.  Can't you see that?"

     Julian sighed.

     "I do now."

     They stood facing one another, their fear reflected in one another's
eyes.

     "I'm going to see if there is anything new --"

     "Julian, wait --"

     Startled, the doctor turned back; it was rare that Garak called him
Julian, even rarer did he allow his voice to betray him.  This, of course,
was an extraordinary situation.

     "What is it?  Have you thought of something useful?"

     "No, nothing like that -- I just -- don't want to spend the last moments
of my life here -- alone."

     "Garak, I can't think of anything to say or do that will make the
situation better.  But there really isn't much a Chief Medical Officer can do
to help the station now, so -- if it makes you feel better, I'll stay, unless
I'm called away."

     "Thank you, Doctor."

     The silence between them was deafening.  After several moments of
pacing, clearing of throats and furtive glances, Garak spoke.

     "Doctor -- Julian."

     "Yes, Garak?"

     "I -- well -- I have something to tell you.  I never thought I would
ever admit this to you, but under the present circumstances, I -- there's no
reason to hold it back any longer."

     "What is it, Garak?" Julian asked, sounding tired and completely
defeated.

     "I -- well -- I want you to promise that whatever your feelings are
about what I'm going to tell you, you won't leave me alone here."

     "I said I would stay, Garak!  What is it -- that you're a spy?  We've
all suspected as much for some time!"

     "Well, thank you very much for the vote of confidence, Doctor.  Forget
it then.  It's not important and it won't change anything.  Besides, you just
answered me quite plainly."

     "What are you *talking* about?  I have no time for your riddles -- for
that matter, neither have you.  If you have something to say, say it!"

     "This atmosphere is not conducive to what I want to share with you."

     "This *atmosphere* is not conducive to anything at all, Garak!  We're
all waiting to die!"

     "That isn't what i meant.  I --"

     "Say it or don't say it.  Just make a decision, damn it!"

     "I am -- I have -- feelings for you, Julian."

     "You have -- what do you mean 'feelings'?"

     "Oh, what do you *think* I mean?  Feelings, Julian!  Feelings!  Do I
have to spell it out?"

     Bashir stood very still, absorbing the Cardasian's words.  He studied
the man's face carefully -- it was so hard to read Cardasians -- they always
looked sinister and insincere to him.  Maybe that was just the conditioning
of this station?  Regardless, he was standing here, feeling helpless, the
fate of the station apparently solely in the hands of the Cardasian High
Command and this Cardasian whom he never knew whether to trust, or like, whom
he found likable one minute and detestable the next, was telling him -- oh,
gods!  

     "Say *something, Julian.  Say you're disgusted with me, but don't just
*stare* like that!  We are friends, aren't we?  I mean, as much friends as a
Cardasian can hope to be with a Federation officer under current
circumstances?  I didn't make the rules of our worlds, Julian!  I was thrust
into the world randomly, just as you were.  I didn't pick my people; my
country.  I don't make policy decisions; I just do the best I can with what
I do have control over, as do we all.  If you don't like me for me, say so. 
If you don't like me because I'm a Cardasian, get beyond that.  Or try to, in
the brief time we have left to us.  Do you or do you not like me as a fellow
being -- a living, breathing being who fears death as much as you?  Who wants
love and acceptance as much as you?  Who has no true friends but hopes to
leave the world with someone attempting to be one!"

     Julian was shocked.  He heard the plea for love behind the voice, and
remembered he had said many of the same things some time ago to a young man
at the Academy -- a Vulcan who deemed him too illogically insecure to be
worth a continuation of their relationship.  He remembered his anger and
feelings of betrayal at the Vulcan's blistering words of superiority as he
stomped down from his pedestal on Julian's shaky ego.  But this is different,
Julian insisted to himself.  There is no true relationship here, not the kind
of relationship built on expectations and potential.  His relationship with
Sutik had been built on infatuation and trust, and no matter how often Sutik
denied it, there was passion as well.  And still, so much of what Garak was
saying rang true in the same desperate timbre of Julian's words to Sutik of
long ago.

     "Garak, I -- this is a shock, but you know that, of course.  I'm not
exactly in the right frame of mind to consider -- what you've just told me. 
But I -- I recognize that it was a difficult thing you just did, admitting
how you feel."

     "Oh, truly gracious of you."

     "Look, what do you want me to say, Garak?  This aspect of a relationship
with you never entered my mind; I never considered it."

     "Because I'm a Cardasian or because I'm not your type?"

     "Garak, no offense, but part of the reason you're not my type is that
you're Cardasian.  And you have to admit that part of the reason -- perhaps
all of the reason -- that you never shared this with me is that I'm the Chief
Medical Officer on this station, a representative of the provisional
government set up by the United Federation of Planets.  Were I Cardasian, you
wouldn't have waited to tell me -- waited until we faced death together."

     "And if I weren't Cardasian, you would have admitted that you are
attracted to me a long time ago!  You wouldn't have pushed it aside and
ignored it as you have done."

     "Oh, what makes you so sure I've ever harbored those types of feelings
toward you, Garak?  Wishful thinking, perhaps?"

     "You didn't deny it; you are just hurling more questions at my question,
once again avoiding the subject so you don't have to deal with it!  Do you
deny it.  Let's get it all out in the open -- we have nothing to lose except
this chance.  There are no more chances, no more choices and no more regrets
after tonight, Julian.  So?"

     Julian flushed.  For the second time in five minutes -- a rarity indeed
-- he was speechless.

     "Just say you never had the slightest attraction to me, and I'll drop
the subject.  I just ask that you be honest with yourself before you speak."

     Julian knew he could not say he had never considered Garak a possibility
-- especially in the beginning.  He had, after all, reached out to Garak when
no one else cared to give him the time of day.  What had it been which drove
him initially?  He wasn't exactly the noble, we-are--all-brothers type.  He
did try to get along with people, and he knew he had an uncanny ability to
try extra hard with people he knew disliked him -- Miles O'Brien for example. 
He hated to be disliked; it bothered him far more than it should, in fact. 
After all, would he be able to survive with such grace under the type of
social pressure Garak experienced?  For the sole tailor on DS9, he did far
less business than he would were he not Cardasian.  In fact, it was Julian's
willingness to befriend him which had converted some naysayers and purveyors
of suspicion and ill will toward the man.

     "All right, Garak.  I can't deny that I had an initial attraction to you
which overcame my prejudice and compelled me to get to know you.  Something
about you -- got to me."

     "But now that you've grown to like me unreservedly, you no longer
require that sneaky little attraction, is that it, Julian?"

     "Don't put words in my mouth, Garak!"

     "I don't want to put words in your mouth, Julian.  I have often thought
it would be a great service to take a few out of your mouth; you have so
damned many at the ready all the time!"

     "Oh, that's very clever, Garak.  Very clever.  You aren't exactly the
easiest person to shut up either!"

     "Oh, you could shut me up without much effort, Julian."

     "Is that right?"

     "Yes.  That is right."

     "How?  By leaving is the only method that comes to mind -- a welcome
thought I might add."

     "Why don't you consider this instead?"

     The Cardasian moved too quickly for Julian to anticipate what he
intended.  The next thing he knew, he was clasped tightly in the Cardasian's
arms, his head locked tightly against the man's right shoulder.  Julian
struggled furiously, but Garak only squeezed tighter and pressed his lips
against the doctor's.

     Julian brought his knee up against Garak's groin.  Garak pulled back but
did not release him and laughed.

     "That could not have been terribly pleasant for your knee, Doctor.  Have
you forgotten that Cardasian males have a bony protrusion protecting their
manhood?  Or didn't you know?"

     Garak took Julian's left earlobe between his lips as he forced one hand
beneath the doctor's shirt.  Julian's breath caught; how the hell had things
gotten so carried away?  He tried to stop the erection which was growing
beneath his uniform; the more he tried, the more insistent his need became. 

     Garak laughed and pinned Julian's wrists behind him, shoving him onto
the bunk.  He lay on top of the doctor, who began to struggle again.  Garak's
grip was strong, stronger than Julian had expected.  The feeling of the
protrusion Garak had spoken of earlier pressed against Julian's swollen cock;
it was exceedingly erotic.  Garak's lips met him again; the Cardasian's mouth
was hot and yet Bashir's response was to shiver as pinpoints of sensation
covered his body.  

     Garak kept his hold on Julian's wrists as he undressed, letting go only
briefly to shrug out of his sleeve.  

     Garak kept his grip until he had pulled leather cuffs from beneath the
bunk and clamped them to a d-ring at the head of the bunk.  

     "Garak!  Stop this!  Let me go!"

     "I'm not going to do anything you won't like, Julian.  Relax."

     Julian gasped as the lights went out -- apparently Garak had done it
manually rather than issuing the "lights out" order to the computer.  Now the
Cardasian's hot mouth was sliding teasingly against the fabric of Bashir's
uniform at his groin, the hot, tantalizing touch bringing Julian to the brink
of an orgasm.  Garak was slicing at the material now with maddening slowness. 
When the material came apart finally, Garak lay on top of him again.  

     Julian felt the penile protective structure slide apart -- apparently it
was voluntarily accomplished -- and then close partially after enclosing
Bashir's erection.  Garak moved hard and fast against him as he began
exploring Bashir's mouth with his tongue.  Their penises slid against one
another -- Garak's was so *hot* -- it was one of the most erotic experiences
Bashir had ever had while having sex with a being whose sexuality he knew
little about.  

     Garak's hands grasped at the doctor's nipples, his fingers tightening
around them; Bashir felt a rush of heat flow through him.

     "Garak!  Please!  I'm going to could you just -- uncuff me?"

     "I'll take care of it, Doctor.  I know more than enough about your
body."

     Garak slid off of him and turned him onto his side, the cuffs clinking
against the d-ring.  The Cardasian's hands grasping at his ankles assured
Julian that Garak had indeed understood what was about to happen.  The sheer
anticipation of his naked penis against the hot lips and tongue of the tailor
was in itself too much, and Garak barely had time to slip his mouth around
the shaft before Bashir let out a cry and came, harder than he had in a long,
long while.

          ***       ***       ***

     "Where is Major Kira?  We have to start *now*!"

     As if on cue, Kira stepped into the office.  She glanced about quickly.

     "Commander, may I speak with you a moment alone?"

     "Kira, we don't have time for private conversations; we could be des --"

     "I know, I'm sorry.  Please, just give me a minute."

     A woman squeezed in beside Kira.

     "No, it's all right.  I have to get this over with anyway."

     Gasps and exclamations of "Ro!" greeted Ro Laren as she crossed the room
to Commander Sisko.
Oh, Captain, My Captain! (Pt. XX) (rated XXX)

     Copyright (c) Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "You seem to know this woman," Sisko stated, looking at each
of the Enterprise crew individually.  "Who is she?  How did she get
here?"

     "I'm Ro Laren, Commander, formerly of Starfleet.  To make a
long story short, I did something -- questionable -- and wound up -
- well, let's just say Starfleet gave me a second chance.  Captain
Picard gave me the chance to prove myself by infiltrating the
Maquis for the Federation.  I disappointed Capt -- Starfleet again,
and defected.  I know there is no reason in the world for any of
you to trust me after these mistakes, and I ask only one thing --
I want protection from the Federation or Bajor for the information
I'm going to give you.  I do not ask to be accepted into Starfleet
again; I do not, however, want to be court-martialed -- it will do
no good.  At the times I did the things I did, I believed in their
necessity, so I won't apologize for them.  But no one can predict
the future, at least none of us here, and I had no idea the Maquis
would -- bring about -- would cause -- such misery.  And I
certainly didn't want war with Cardasia."

     "This woman is a traitor and cannot be trusted," boomed Worf,
stepping towards Ro.

     "Lieutenant," said Picard emphatically.

     Ro sought Troi's eyes frantically.

     "She is sincere.  She is as frightened as we are and wants to
help."

     "I just met Laren -- Ro.  And I recognize her for what I was,
what I felt, and still do, sometimes.  She sincerely wants the
deaths and the subterfuge to stop.  I think she deserves what she
asks.  I am willing to accept responsibility for her --"

     "No, Nerys, please.  If I cannot be released on my own
recognizance, forget it.  I want my freedom, from any political,
social and interplanetary relations of every kind.  I will not aid
or abet any party after this night.  I just want to be left alone. 
I want life to be -- simple.  Boring even."

     "Surely you can't seriously expect us to trust that you won't
turn around and --"

     "Will, come on.  You know me better than that.  You even
understood what was going on the last time we spoke.  You didn't
begrudge me my beliefs, my feelings, my sense of justice.  That
same sense of justice, those same values, have been used against
me; I was used by Starfleet -- they knew they had me at a
disadvantage when they okayed my infiltration of the Maquis.  They
knew my reputation was at stake; they wanted to use my shame at
betraying my friends as their trump card."

     "Unfortunately, the extent of your treachery was still
undetected," growled Worf.

     Both Sisko and Picard shot ugly glances in Worf's direction.

     "After that, the Maquis used my feelings of isolation, of loss
to make me feel welcome, a part of them.  They preyed on my need to
belong to a group of people, many of them Bajorans, who knew the
terrible deeds perpetrated by Cardasia."

     "Are you implying we didn't know about those same deeds?"
demanded Riker.  "If so, perhaps you should read Captain Picard's
report --"

     "I want everyone to be quiet!  Now!"

     Everyone froze and looked at Sisko.

     "This station is in danger, young lady.  The Cardasians have
taken the Maquis bait and have decided that the destruction of this
station is the just solution to the Maquis problem.  Their
contention is that the Federation has been sitting on its hands
doing nothing while the Maquis has persistently provoked Cardasian
reprisals.  I have been told that an encoded message has been
intercepted -- two Cardasian freighters equipped to destroy this
station are on their way."

     "Commander!"

     "What is it, Dax?"

     "Sensors have just picked up the first of the freighters,
sir."

     "Send a message, priority one, to Gul Dukat."

     "Aye, sir."

               ***            ***            ***

     Garak had turned the lights on; Bashir opened his eyes slowly
to find the tailor sitting on the edge of the bunk, watching him
and slowly stroking himself.  Memories flooded back to him and
Bashir started, finding himself still bound to the bunk.

     "What time is it, Garak?  Why am I still tied up?  I don't
intend to die tied to your bunk, dammit!"

     "It has only been half an hour since you slipped me some much-
awaited nourishment, Doctor."

     "Oh, you are so crude!"

     "Oh, is that so?  Well, Doctor, you should be more careful
about placing privacy codes on your holosuite programs."

     Bashir's head snapped up from the pillow, his lips pressing
together in anger and disgust.

     "You bloody bastard!  You -- you went through my private --"

     "Oh, relax, Doctor.  You only forgot to encrypt two of them."

     "You -- you untie me now!  *Now*!"

     Bashir watched as Garak's cock hardened.  Angrily, he brought
his torso closer to Garak and was able to slam his elbow into the
Cardasian's stomach with only minimal effort.

     "Oh, is that how you want it, Doctor?  You like it rough?"

     Bashir's blood chilled.  Was he going to be tortured to death
in here -- was this "I have feelings for you" a hoax?

     "What are you going to do, Garak?"

     "Only what you've apparently been fantasizing about for at
least the past three and a half months -- that is when that
fascinating little program was created, Doctor?  Right after we
played a game of tennis in the holosuite; you saved my image and
had quite a bit of fun with it.  I'm just going to make it real."

     "I intended that to be a fantasy, Garak!" Bashir said
desperately.  "I never intended for you -- especially you -- to
come across it."

     "Come across it?  Now that's an interesting little idiom you
humanoids have, isn't it?"

     Garak spread Bashir's legs so that each leg dangled over the
edge of either side of the bunk.  Bashir was on his stomach, and
Garak unhooked his cuffs from the d-ring at the head of the bunk
and tied Bashir's arms behind his back.  He slipped a blindfold
over the doctor's eyes, stuffed his nose with soft swabs and placed
a ball gag in his mouth, then pushed him onto his right side.

     "I'm going to put earplugs in your ears now, Doctor.  All I
want you to be doing for the next few minutes is feeling me. 
Concentrate on nothing but your body and what I'm doing to it. 
Sound familiar?  Oh, I'm sorry; you can't answer, can you?"

     Garak placed two plugs carefully in Bashir's ears; the doctor
was trembling slightly.  Garak couldn't be sure whether it was
fear, anticipation or a little of both.

               ***            ***            ***

     Alexander couldn't sleep.  He felt fear in the air; his father
would probably tell him that this was his Klingon blood catching up
with him as he grew older.  It was disconcerting and it was very
unpleasant being here in the silence with this feeling.  Sometimes,
it seemed as if he could smell the fear.  Something must be very
wrong.

     He tried to think of something else.  He remembered hearing
growling and other sounds coming from his father's bed earlier that
night.  He knew this probably had to do with mating, though he
couldn't figure out why his father would be mating with that woman
who just joined the Enterprise crew.  He didn't like her; she made
him feel strange.  She looked at him the same way she looked at
others, but with him it was a little different -- as if she were
saying: "If you were just a little older, I would show you how to
growl, not your father."

     Alexander felt himself blush.  Why would he think a crazy
thought like that?  He couldn't ignore it, though; when his father
was with Counselor Troi, they were very loud, and it woke Alexander
up often.  He knew they were doing adult things that involved
something called sex, but he didn't understand sex, except for the
basics and the reason you were supposed to have sex -- to reproduce
more of your species.  But he had heard kids and adults talk, and
it seemed although it wasn't discussed too openly, especially by
humanoids, sex was something fun, too -- a recreational activity. 
Since most species no longer needed partners to reproduce,
Alexander imagined sex must be a lot of fun to do it anyway.  He
knew one thing: when he heard the noises from his father's bed, he
felt an extremely exciting feeling in his stomach and from where he
peed -- penis was such a silly word, he thought.  Did the word
"pee" come from the word "penis"?  The word for a woman's sex organ
was stranger still -- vagina.  It sounded funny.  Alexander smiled,
then began to laugh.

     After a while, his thoughts flowed back to the noises he had
heard earlier from his father's bed.  He had reached down and
discovered that in addition to that weird feeling he got a lot
recently, his penis was hard, really hard -- and it seemed a little
-- thicker -- than it had the last time he had touched it in bed,
a few weeks ago.  It had gotten hard like that a few times when he
was really little and was playing around with kids, wrestling and
rolling on top of them, or sometimes when he slid down the exercise
tubes in the exercise room.  But why was it bigger?  He knew the
best person to ask would be Lwaxana Troi; adults joked about her a
lot, rarely noticing Alexander's interest.  They said she was a
"sex-crazed one".  Alexander thought Lwaxana a little weird
sometimes, but far less weirder than most people he met.  And she
liked him, and he had fun when she visited him.  If sex had made
her crazy, sex must be a nice thing; it made people nice.  If being
a little strange was the only bad thing about being crazy because
of sex, Alexander figured he should find out about sex.  But
Lwaxana wasn't around any more, so he would have to speak to the
next best person -- and hope she wouldn't tell his father.  

               ***            ***            ***

     Bashir could see, hear, and smell nothing.  The only thing he
tasted was the slightly oily taste of the ball gag -- probably
newly replicated -- with perforations -- so it was not Garak's
intent to deprive him of air.  His heart thumped loudly in his
ears, the rhythm of his fear.  He felt Garak rubbing warm oil on
his butt.  Garak suddenly slid a finger inside Bashir, moving it
slowly and gently forward.  Okay, he isn't going to be rough, then,
Julian sighed inwardly, though still terrified.  The safety
overrides of the holosuite kept him protected, but his only exit
here was Garak's discretion, and Julian had no reason to have faith
in that.

     Then, he felt a simultaneous hot tingle and slap.  He writhed
away from it, or tried to, but the strange slaps kept hitting his
ass, harder and closer together each time.  Bashir knew what it was
-- it was a common sex toy on Cardasia, the Klingon worlds and
other worlds where serious sadomasochism and dominance and
submission role-playing was the norm.  It was called an Rek'ja --
Bashir had no idea what it meant or where it was originally
manufactured or used.  Quark had gotten ahold of some and had shown
it off one night using a willing (apparently) Dabo girl.  It was a
long cylinder, flexible, with switches for electric shock,
temperature and vibration.  There were beads inside which, at the
touch of another lever, caused the cylinder to move in either a
circular motion or thrust backwards and forwards.  Used in the
hands of a novice or worse, a person with evil intentions, it could
cause serious burns and/or internal injuries.

     Garak stopped slapping and pressed the cylinder against
Julian's scrotum.  After an involuntary flinch, Julian waited, near
panic, for the next sensation.  The cylinder grew warmer and
warmer, and just before it became too hot, Garak removed it and
pressed something ice-cold and wet to Julian's balls.  Suddenly,
Julian realized that it was a cold gel-like substance held in
Garak's mouth -- probably flavored lotion.  Garak swirled his
tongue and the substance all over Bashirs genitals.  Julian became
aware of a wave of heat closing around his shaft and balls --
apparently, the lotion was stimulating his nerves to believe that
his penis was being suffused with heat.  It was extremely
pleasurable, and Garak's tongue licking and sucking through the
heat was carrying him toward another incredible orgasm.  Garak was
now shoving the cylinder from before inside the doctor's anus; it
was very warm; it felt very much like a penis.  Its vibrations
shook Julian's body; his fingers curled and uncurled as he moaned
against the gag in his mouth.  Suddenly, that gag was removed, and
Garak's quarters filled with Julian's excitement.  It was odd,
hearing his muffled cries -- they sounded far off with the ear
plugs in his ears.  But he must be making quite a lot of noise. 
Then, he felt the bony enclosure of Garak's penis open and the
Cardasian's penis slipped into his mouth, the bony structure
leaning against his chin and cheeks, biting slightly into his
flesh.  Garak's penis was thick but shorter than Bashir's; Julian
was able to take him all the way in.  The Cardasian thrust hard;
Julian's teeth grazing him seemed to excite him, so Julian nipped
at him -- not so much to increase Garak's excitement as to get him
back for the penile enclosure scraping his face.  But the hint was
lost on the Cardasian; he dove inside Julian's mouth, apparently
seeking the pain and pleasure of the doctor's teeth.  Meanwhile,
Garak closed his hand tightly around Julian's shaft, and pressed
the head to his lips, darting his tongue quickly back, forth and
around the head, faster and faster.  Suddenly, Julian felt Garak's
body shudder and he came, releasing spurt after spurt down Julian's
throat.  Amazingly, the Cardasian's climax had a subtle sweet
taste, instead of the bland taste of the Vulcan and the salty taste
of the Terran.  He wouldn't mind a few more shots of that, he
thought, as Garak's body went limp.  Julian felt Garak's body as he
panted, seemingly exhausted, clinging to the doctor's balls in a
grip he had apparently forgotten, the Rek'ja still buzzing in the
doctor's derriere.

               ***            ***            ***

     "Here you all are, just as I expected," said Gul Dukat,
smiling as only a Cardasian could smile.  "Go ahead; I'll enjoy
listening to your pleas, more so than the destruction of your
little station.  After all, that station belongs to us -- it will
be a pity to watch it burst into smoke and flame, amid the screams
of some who were its builders."

     "Slave builders," snapped Kira, before she could stop herself.

     "You're not helping, Major!" growled Sisko.

     "Gul Dukat," Sisko turned his attention to the viewscreen, "I
understand your position, and I realize you don't have anything to
lose by doing this, since it is doubtful that this will lead to
full-scale war with the Federation -- even with our deaths, they
will strive for peace -- it is the more intelligent option."

     "Yes, most probably true, Commander Sisko.  And the Maquis
will continue as well; they don't care how many lives are lost."

     "You criticize the Maquis for your future behavior?  That
seems hypocritical, Gul."

     "Seems?  It is hypocritical," said Riker.

     Picard gave him a warning glance.

     "Counselor?" Picard whispered.

     "He intends to destroy the station; nothing we say will
convince him.  He's actually excited, in the way children feel
excitement when they see the stars from the Observation Lounge on
the Enterprise for the first time."

     "Commander!"

     "What is it, Dax?"

     Gul Dukat smiled.

     "It's been nice knowing you -- bye-bye, Major Kira; I'll miss
you especially."

     With that, the connection was broken as Dax said, "The first
freighter is closing in.  It has apparently flooded our escape pods
with gas; we cannot evacuate anyone.  The other freighter will be
here in half an hour -- what is *that*?"

     "Show us on this screen, Dax!  Magnify!  More!"

     The first freighter took up nearly the whole screen, while its
successor lagged behind, but moving swiftly and steadily toward the
station.  A white beam of light, searing to the naked eye in its
brightness, was enfolding the second freighter.  The freighter
split open, first through the middle lengthwise, then widthwise;
the four pieces exploded into the light, spiraling outward and
coagulating together a moment later into a ball of flaming debris. 
In the distance, there was a speck that might be a ship or a weapon
or some sort, but the sensors could not detect it nor did
magnification improve the view -- which meant either that the
sensors were faulty or that the sensors had been sabotaged.  While
all in the room stared in silent awe, the second freighter was
lifted away from the station and went hurtling end over end toward
the ominous white beam, which glared with its white fury at the
oncoming ship.  As soon as the ship entered the periphery of the
beam, it met the same fate as the one preceding it.  

     For several long moments, there wasn't a peep from anyone or
a sound from anything.  Then, the crackle and bleep of a hailing
from Gul Dukat broke the pall of tension, relief and fear.

     "What did you do?  Who destroyed those ships, Sisko?  I want
an answer now!"

     "Ro, do you know anything about this?" Picard demanded.

     "No, sir -- that was not the Maquis.  If we had something like
that, whatever it is, we wouldn't have bothered with the rest.  I
may not have had full knowledge of the Maquis' plans, but there is
no way something like that would have kept quiet -- not in the
Maquis."

     "There is no power signature of any kind; I can't even pick up
traces of residue from the freighters, Commander.  Whatever or
whoever did that has left no calling card and no explanation of any
kind."

               ***            ***            ***

     Geordi and Galoc stared at the cards before them.

     "I can't concentrate any more, Geordi.  I'm scared.  Here I
am, about to start a new life, a life that will be all my own -- my
body, my mind, my choices.  And we're sitting here waiting to die."

     "They'll find a way; Captain Picard will if anyone can."

     "How, Geordi?  With reason?  This whole mess was madness from
the start -- altering viruses, killing children.  I've been reading
a great deal since I got the hell out of my shithole of a house and
left my brute bastard of a husband -- master is the term one must
use at home -- in Ferengi, it actually translates to something
despicably oxymoronic, like 'gentle keeper' or something like that. 
It's so hard to translate some things."

     "You're right about that.  It seems the only thing all of us
different species have in common is love and war."

     "If you really think about it, Geordi -- friendship,
companionship, neighbors, communities, recreation, education,
communication or the attempt at communication -- there isn't
anything else but love and war -- just a vast, puzzling spectrum
full of pleasure and pain, cost and benefit, altruism and
selfishness, failure and success.  The problem is our individual
and collective handling of the balance of it all."

     Geordi smiled, taking Galoc's hand.

     "It's amazing how profound and philosophical one can get when
one believes or knows that death is near," he sighed.

     "URGENT MESSAGE FOR GEORDI LAFORGE!" the computer boomed, its
volume enough to wake the dead, and certainly enough to completely
unsettle the unsettled even further.

     "THIS MESSAGE WILL NOT BE REPEATED!  THIS WILL BE MY ONLY
ATTEMPT TO CONTACT GEORDI LAFORGE; THIS REQUEST IS URGENT!"

     "This is Geordi LaForge!  Patch it through, computer!"

     "Translating external message, comparing voiceprint with
record; please wait. . . . La-forge confirmed.  Processing
message."

     ARE YOU ALONE, GEORDI?

     "I'll go; I'll be right outside, Geordi, in case you need
help."

     As Galoc rushed from the room, Geordi typed in:  YES, I'M
ALONE.  WHY DON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME?

     I HAVE SAVED THE STATION FROM THE CARDASIAN FREIGHTERS SENT TO
DESTROY IT.  I HAD LITTLE SUPPORT FOR THIS, BUT MANAGED TO CONVINCE
SOME OF MY FRIENDS THAT WE SHOULD HELP YOU.  I ONLY DID THIS
BECAUSE OF YOU, GEORDI; I HAVE MANY DETRACTORS RIGHT NOW AS I TRY
TO LEAD MY PEOPLE.  THIS ACTION ON MY PART MUST NEVER BE SHARED
WITH THE FEDERATION; I WISH TO RAISE NO FALSE HOPES OF AN ALLIANCE
WITH THE FEDERATION.

     "But *who* are you?" Geordi said testily, typing the words in. 
The only response, before the connection was closed, was:

                    YOU'RE WELCOME -- YOUR FRIEND, HUGH.
Oh, Captain, My Captain! (Pt. XXI: CLIMAX!!!)


     Copyright (c) 1994 by Christine Marie Faltz; cmfaltz@panix.com

     "This is a very nice presentation for my benefit, Sisko, but you
can drop it.  I want to know who destroyed those ships!"

     "If and when we get answers, we'll share them.  Connection
closed."

     After a brief moment of silence, Picard spoke.

     "Perhaps this is more intervention from Q."

     "It would make sense.  There's no trace of anything except that
light, no traces of residue."

     "But what if it *wasn't* Q?" Kira said impatiently.  "We're
dealing with an unknown that could destroy us just as suddenly.  For
all we know, those ships were simply in the wrong place at the wrong
time."

     "I would say the right time," Riker declared.

     "For the moment, we have no reason to believe we are in danger
from anyone but the Cardasians, the Maquis saboteurs and if we want
to be paranoid, unknown risks from the other side of the wormhole."

     "But that's just it, Commander," said Kira.  "This might be the
Dominion -- we don't know much about them at all yet."

     "We've just received a transmission from Gul Dukat, Commander.
He is asking about the health of your son."

     Sisko's face froze into a mask of fury.

     "Open hailing frequencies," he said, his voice shaking.

     "Commander, allow me," Picard said, stepping forward, putting
his hand on Sisko's arm briefly.

     "It appears, Gul, that you are unaware of another misfire in
your plans to worsen the situation.  Jake Sisko is just fine.  It is
Gul Madred you should be asking after."

     "Are you telling me Gul Madred has been taken prisoner on that
station?"

     "No, Gul.  I'm telling you that Gul Madred has been killed."

     "Commander," Dax said, stepping beside Sisko.  "I think that
until all of this is cleared up, the best you can do is take Jake off
the station."

     "Why would I do that, Dax?  I am commander of this station.  Not
only that, why would I take my son off a station where his chances of
survival are good and take him somewhere where we would be
defenseless?"

     "Commander, I know that the Maquis are no longer a threat, at
least to your son," said Ro.  "They wanted to make the Cardasians
look guilty in Bajoran eyes.  That will backfire on them when the
news gets out tomorrow.  The Maquis will be hiding for a while and
strategizing."

     "As for the Cardasians, Commander, they're not going to expend
energy and resources to find you and Jake just to kill Jake,
especially now.  They think we're behind the destruction of their
ships.  Play on that, at least for now."

     "You're right; we do have them off balance.  But as Kira pointed
out, maybe the station is in danger.  In that case, Starfleet is not
going to okay my leaving because of a personal situation."

     "I think, under the circumstances, Commander, that Captain
Picard can ease the way for your request to leave the station for a
while," said Counselor Troi, who had been listening in.

     "Consider Jake, Commander.  This is no small thing.  He'll need
you to help with this," said Kira.

     "I think that it would be best for you to play down this
     occurrence for a few days, Commander," said Troi.  "Tell him
after this last week, you need a break, and that you want to take him
on a vacation for just the two of you."

     "I have been planning a camping trip in the Gamma Quadrant,"
said Sisko.  "If Starfleet okays it, I think I'll do what you
suggest, Counselor.  It has been such a frantic night that I haven't
been able to think straight.  I should go see Jake right now."

     "Well, Captain?"

     "I would say there is a stalemate of sorts.  I think when all
the smoke clears, Cardasia will realize it fell into a Maquis trap
that has caused pain and destruction on both sides.  The only real
bone of contention is the destruction of those ships.  It will take a
leap of faith on Cardasia's part to accept that we know nothing of
the source of that destruction."

     "I am going to talk to Captain Picard about that leave request,
Commander," said Troi.  "You go to your son.  He needs you."

     "Thank you, Counselor.  Kira, please take care of checking in
with Security before calling it a night."

     "Absolutely, Benjamin.  Tell Jake we're all thinking of him."

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Garak, I must ask you something," said Bashir wearily.  "When
did you see my holodeck programs?"

     The tailor laughed.

     "Why, Julian?  I saw them -- isn't the real thing more fun?"

     "Answer me, dammit, Garak!  You gave me this whole song and
dance about --"

     "Song and dance?"

     "Oh, it's an old Terran expression.  You gave me all this
gibberish about having feelings for me, etc., etc."

     "Hold on, Doctor!  I, as a matter of fact, just saw your
holodeck programs."

     "What do you mean, 'just saw' them?  We've been -- we've been
together here for the past hour and a half."

     "Yes, Doctor, but you slept for nearly one-third of that time.
I thought I would peruse your holosuite menu just in case you had
left some unprotected, so I could get a better idea of what you
really wanted.  I knew from the first time I saw you that you were
repressed.  So many of you humanoids are."

     "I'm not repressed!  And I don't believe you!  You went to the
holosuite without Quark knowing and --"

     "No, no, Doctor.  I am able -- don't ask me how, I can't tell
you -- to link into the holosuite database.  Quark is rather inept
where security is concerned -- for a Ferengi."

     "What else can you tap into from the comfort of your quarters,
Garak?"

     "Doctor!  So defensive!  Come on -- let's kiss and make up.  We
     had such fun tonight, you and I.  Death's proximity seems just a
little further away because of you."

     "Oh, please, Garak!"

     The Cardasian gave him a grin -- at least that is what it
appeared to be.

     "We're all dying soon, Julian.  Lighten up!  Is that not the
right expression?"

     Bashir's comm badge beeped.

     "Press that for me, Garak!"

     "Certainly."

     "Bashir."

     "Julian, it's Dax.  Everything is okay.  I'll tell you all about
it in the morning.  I'm exhausted.  You can go to bed now and know
you'll still be here in the morning -- which, incidentally, is three
hours away."

     "Thanks, Jadzia.  I'll probably be up all night wondering how we
escaped this one."

     "Believe me; you can't imagine what has happened tonight,
Julian.  Don't even try."

     Julian stared at Garak, anger darkening his face.

     "If I find out that you knew all along -- you didn't know, did
you?  You're as shocked as I am."

     "Not shocked, Julian," Garak said quietly.  "Relieved.  Amazed.
Stunned.  But not shocked.  I feel -- rather -- numb."

     "What are we going to do about -- what happened here tonight?"

     "I don't know, Doctor.  What do you *want* to do about it?"

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Alexander, it's Deanna.  May I come in?"

     "Yes.  -- Oh, come."

     The door swished open and Deanna crossed the room and entered
Alexander's room at the back; the boy was sitting up, his face
exhausted and frightened.

     "Where's Father?"

     "He's taking care of some last minute details with Commander
Riker and Captain Picard.  I'm here because I'm worried about you.
I've felt all evening that you're frightened and confused.  I had to
go to a meeting, or I would have been here sooner."

     "I'm scared."

     "I know, Alexander.  But it looks like everything has
straightened out, at least on the station."

     "I'm scared about -- other things."

     "Yes?"

     "You know, don't you?"

     "I have some ideas.  Some of it has to do with sex.  Is that
right?"

     Alexander looked away immediately.

     "Alexander, you're getting to the age where it is completely
normal -- expected, in fact -- for you to begin having these
thoughts, feelings and questions.  I don't have all the answers, but
I'm sure I can help, at least for the time being.  You're attracted
to males.  And only males, right?  Ensign Trinn makes you
uncomfortable because she's very sexual, and she seems to flirt with
you when she talks to you and you feel you should be flattered.  But
you're not.  And you think your father notices -- or is there
something else?  I can't read your mind, Alexander; I can just pick
up on your feelings.  They're very strong feelings, but very
jumbled.  Talk to me."

     "You won't -- at all -- you won't say --"

     "I will *not* say a single word about our conversation to your
father if you don't want me to, Alexander.  This is between us.  I
just want you to feel better."

     "Okay.  I'm not worried about my father being mad about me not
liking Ensign Trinn.  I'm worried because I know my father has strong
feelings about people on the ship who date and marry members of the
same gender.  He's also uncomfortable about androg-- androgen --"

     "Androgynous species?"

     "Yeah, that's it!"

     "Yes, I remember," Troi said, remembering Worf's comments with
respect to the Genai.  "Tell me, Alexander, why are you worried?
What do you think your father will do if you tell him you're
interested in males?"

     "I'm afraid he'll hate me.  That he'll think that's why I don't
want to fight, to be a warrior.  That he'll blame my mom or my human
blood."

     "Oh, Alexander," said Deanna, as the boy's eyes filled with
tears.  "That will not happen.  Your father loves you."

     "But he's disappointed already.  He acts as if he accepts my
choices, but when they're not his choices, he gets that look -- you
know."

     "Yes, I do," Deanna smiled.  "He gives me that look sometimes
too.  That doesn't mean he stops caring about me."

     "But I'm his son.  He expects me to do certain things and be
certain things.  I keep learning that we're so different."

     "Your father is a Klingon, a warrior to the core; that's true,"
said Deanna.  "But he's also the son of adoptive parents who raised
him with human values.  Not the values of yesterday, of centuries
ago, when parents believed their children were demons, or that they
were sick, because they were interested in members of their gender.
Worf is a Starfleet officer and has managed to work alongside others
with many different worldviews --"

     "But I'm his *son*.  He won't look at this as a different
worldview.  He'll look at it as a rebellion, or as something he
caused, not as a part of me which I can't and don't want to change."

     "All right, Alexander.  Your father will be back soon, so I
think we'll discuss this more tomorrow morning -- more likely, later
than that, because it's about morning already.  I don't want us
interrupted while you're talking about this with me, especially your
father because you're fixated on him right now.  So you come see me
the first chance you get, okay?"

     Alexander nodded and lay down, pulling the blanket to his chin.
Deanna watched him as he quickly drifted off to sleep, his face
peaceful.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Jean-Luc."

     "Beverly."

     They stood facing one another for an uncomfortable moment.

     "Where's your -- friend, Ztlaf?"

     "She paid me a visit a few moments ago -- in my mind, and told
me she would be gone for a while.  Apparently, she is going to be
re-evaluated by the Continuum to ascertain whether she may some day
be granted full Q status."

     "Was she the one who saved your life?"

     "I don't think she has the power to do that without losing her
own existence as a Q.  I don't know why I believe that, but I do --
strongly."

     ""Well, it's been a long night; we should both be sleeping."

     Dr. Crusher turned and began to walk away.

     "Wait, Beverly!"

     "Come back to my quarters.  Please."

     Beverly waited only a second, then smiled and nodded her
assent.  Picard began walking toward the turbo lift, Beverly
following close behind.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "*There* you are.  I've been looking all over for you."

     "I'm sorry, Will; I wanted to check in on Alexander.  Why were
you looking for me?"

     "Deanna, I -- I have been thinking about you a lot lately.  I --
after tonight's events, I feel as if I should pay attention more to
some of the decision I've been making, that I should take certain
things more seriously."

     "For instance?"

     "Come on, Deanna.  Don't play with me.  You know what I'm
getting at."

     "Maybe I want you to say it."

     "Why?  Does it make you feel like you've won somehow?"

     "Will, what is wrong with you?  This is why we broke off our
relationship last time, because you couldn't stop thinking of our
relationship as some type of game, something you had to conquer and
maintain by continual analysis.  You've always been overly concerned
with the appearance of the relationship and how it feels to you,
ignoring for the most part the dynamics involved between you and the
other person involved.  You've felt superficially fulfilled lately,
playing around with the Ferengi.  They needed a void filled without
pressure and you gave it to them.  It was easy for you.  You didn't
feel threatened by them.  With me, you are insecure about the very
same thing which excites you about me -- my ability to read your
feelings.  You delight in the physical results of that aspect of our
relationship, but you cringe at the emotional aspects.  I'm not
saying I want commitment from you if we take up our relationship
again -- you know I'm not big on commitment at this point in my
life.  I'm enjoying the exploration of my sexuality right now.  But
if you're going to resent me for the same thing which adds to the
eroticism in our relationship, it's going to be uncomfortable for
both of us.  You make me feel guilty for something I have no control
over, and because you know it, you get edgy and it becomes a tiring
circle, Will."

     Riker took her in his arms and kissed her, slowly, his lips
moving against hers, a lingering touch that eventually progressed.
Deanna leaned heavily against him, her body exhausted from the
night's events while deriving rejuvenation from his advances.  He
picked her up and carried her to the turbolift.  No one was in it
with them.  He slid his hands beneath her blouse and wrapped his hand
around her right breast.

     "It's been a while since I've made love on the turbolift," she
smiled.

     "Is Worf too honorable for that kind of thing?"

     "Will, I'm here with you; no one else is here.  Don't invite
anyone here.  I'm yours right now."

     "But for how long?"

	       ***            ***            ***

     Kira made one more round of the Security posts, then stopped by
the brig.

     "Ro, I'm going to do everything I can to get you what you want,"
she said.  "It'll work out.  I promise."

     "Are you headed for your quarters, Major?"

     "Yes, Odo.  Why?"

     "I was wondering if I might come by for a few moments and talk
with you."

     "*Now*?  I would think you needed to rest, Odo.  I know I do."

     "I've rested, Major; at least a little."

     "Can't it wait?"

     "Yes; it has this long."

     "What do you mean?"

     "We'll talk later, Major."

	       ***            ***            ***

     Beverly and Picard sat nursing cups of tea.  The silence was
both peaceful and provocative.  They felt shy and uncertain,
something they hadn't felt with each other for a long time.

     "Jean-Luc."

     "Yes?"

     "I want you to know -- that it's okay.  Everything.  I did
overreact.  Last time -- you know.  I was -- I had a bad week.  First
Ensign Challady lost her twins, then the whole personal conflict
between Latrisha and Benit that Deanna and I were trying to work out.
-- I just -- I wasn't expecting a personal crisis of my own; I
suppose we never expect them, do we?  I guess what I'm trying to say
is -- nothing has really changed, has it?"

     "Are you asking me if it has, or telling me that you believe it
hasn't?"

     "I guess both.  I felt that things would change, that they would
have to change.  But, I don't *feel* as if they've changed."

     "I've changed, Beverly," he said quietly, taking her hand.

     "I know," she whispered back.  "But you haven't changed where
I'm concerned.  I can see it, Jean-Luc.  I can feel it."

     "You're right.  That hasn't changed."

     "Maybe it can change now?"

     "What do you mean?"

     "I mean, maybe we could -- rethink our -- former way of dealing
with -- us.  Our feelings toward one another.  Our relationship."

     "That might be -- a good idea," he said, bringing her hand to
his lips.

	       ***            ***            ***

     Kira felt herself in the shadlowland between sleep and
wakefulness; she felt something tugging at her -- a voice, a feeling
-- something.  She wanted to ignore it, to roll back into her
dreams.  But another part of her was clutching at her, insisting that
she open her eyes.

     Kira suddenly became aware that someone was massaging her body.
Her feet . . . her calves . . . her thighs.  She decided it was a
wonderful dream; she could not see her dream masseuse, but that was
okay.  The tension raced from her muscles and the cottony grayness of
half-sleep rocked precariously toward full sleep for a while.  But
now the massage was different.  She felt hands on her breasts and a
tongue at her throat.  What the hell?  She woke with a start, to find
the body of a naked man beside her, his hands exploring her gently
but firmly.  Her eyes flew open.

     "*What the hell are you doing, Benjamin*?!"

	       ***            ***            ***

     Dax had only slept about two hours.  She knew the morning shift
would be preparing to go on duty and decided to get some breakfast
outside of her quarters.  She felt restless and frankly, rather
horny.  She had seen the Klingon Worf only one other time, and they
had shared nothing but a quick glance or two.  Maybe he hadn't even
noticed her, she thought.  Morn had been moody since the arrival of
the Enterprise; he was good at sensing her attraction to other men,
and she had told him once that she had had an instant reaction to the
Enterprise's Chief Security Officer.  Dax was also good at sensing
who was attracted to whom; she had amazed Kira with her uncanny
ability to point out present and future couples on the station.  Dax
knew that something was going on between Worf and Counselor Troi, but
that it was apparently not overly serious.  Dax had noticed the looks
a young ensign was giving Worf all afternoon yesterday and guessed
that they had retired to Worf's quarters together before everything
went crazy last night.  Apparently, the Klingon had his fair share of
admirers.

     Dax showered and headed out to the promenade for breakfast.  She
nearly lost her cool when Lieutenant Worf arrived half a moment after
she did and ordered some prune juice.

     "Good morning, Lieutenant," she smiled.  "May I join you?  It
seems we're the early risers of the bunch."

     "So it seems."

     Dax waited, a little uncomfortably.

     "Oh.  I apologize.  Please.  Sit down."

     "Thank you.  So, how is your boy?"

     "He is fine."

     "Great."

     Dax had known many Klingons and by far, this one was one of the
hardest to talk to; talk about your strong, silent types.

     "I understand Q has saved Captain Picard's life once before --
or rather that he brought him back from the dead once before.  Is
this true?"

     "Yes."

     "What do you think of Q's random intervention?"

     "I don't think about it.  I only think about Q when it is
absolutely required."

     "Q does have his bad points, but after all, he does seem to have
an apparent soft spot for Captain Picard."

     "Q is not a being about whom anyone can be sure about anything.
It is better to pretend he doesn't exist until he forces a reminder
on you."

     Dax smiled.

     "I sense a little jealousy, Worf."

     "Jealousy?  Why on earth would I envy Q?  If he were a Klingon,
he would have been undoubtedly discommendated a long time ago.  And
*he* would have deserved it."

     "Still, he seems to be available when your ship or your captain
needs him the most."

     "I do not wish to discuss Q any longer."

     "All right.  Would you like to join me in some morning
exercises?"

     "I always exercise right after a light breakfast," the Klingon
commented.  "But my program will be too -- taxing -- for you."

     "Don't be too sure, Lieutenant.  Come on.  Let's test that
statement, shall we?"

	       ***            ***            ***

     Before Kira could say anything further, Sisko lay down next to
her and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his.  She kneed him
lightly in the groin, and twisted easily away from him.

     "What the hell is going on here?  How dare you enter my quarters
uninvited, get into my bunk uninvited, and *naked* -- how far exactly
were you planning to take this without permission, *Commander*?
Where the hell is this coming from, anyway?  Did that brush with
death last night scramble your brains?"

     "I'm sorry, Major," Sisko said.  "I -- we haven't exactly been
on the same side all the time, and I have been -- well, the short
answer is yes.  We came very close to death last night and I was
faced with all the things that could have been better handled in my
life -- my grudge against Picard, our constant struggle to meet each
other halfway, given our differences in background, duty and
conviction."

     "So you come in here *naked* to improve our relationship?  You
-- were you going to consummate this new order while I slept,
Benjamin?"

     "I -- maybe we can discuss this later, when you've rested some
more."

     "*What*?  This is insane; did something happen to you last night
along with everything else that happened?"

     Suddenly, Benjamin was gone -- just like that.  Kira glanced
about confused.  No clothes were strewn about, and he hadn't left
through the door; he just blinked out of her sight.

     "I'm sorry, Major.  That was a truly bad way to let you know -
-"

     Kira turned around to face the voice, startled.

     "Odo???  Where are you?"

     Slowly, the shape-shifter appeared, his eyes averted.

     "You came to me as Sisko?  To -- do what you did?"

     "Kira -- Nerys -- I --"

     "You just tell me what the hell you did that for!  Right now!
Not only did you impersonate Commander Sisko, but you were getting
ready, it seems, to rape me!  What the hell has come over you, you
who are so judgmental about the sexual liaisons and interests of
other beings on this station?"

     "I -- please.  I know it was wrong, *very* wrong.  I'll just
explain and then leave."

     "Well, start explaining.  This is unbelievable.  I keep hoping
I'm dreaming!"

     "Kira -- I -- part of the reason I'm so -- judgmental is that
I've felt -- this way -- about you for a long time.  But I didn't
understand it.  I don't know, I just feel strange around everyone
here, as if I don't fit in.  I couldn't imagine that you would find
me attractive, or even think a relationship between us was possible.
I was so convinced of that I picked the least likely person you would
-- accept as a partner -- in my view, at least -- and decided to --"

     "Attempt to rape me?"

     "I wasn't going to go -- that far.  I did nothing but touch you
-- I didn't --"

     "Nothing but touch me?  Nothing but touch me!  I was naked!  - -
I -- I still *am* naked!" she yelled, diving for a robe hanging over
a chair.

     "Kira, I was trying to wake you up, -- I -- this is terrible for
me.  Please, Kira, calm down."

     Kira paced her quarters, refusing to look at Odo.  She was
furious, but beneath her anger, she felt the feeling she had
continually tried to quell for the past few months, a feeling she got
in the pit of her stomach -- and sometimes lower -- when she saw Odo
or talked to him.  Now that she knew it was he behind the intrusion,
she felt strangely excited and less violated.  But, she told herself,
it was wrong -- no matter who did it -- it was wrong, and she
couldn't forgive it simply because she would have said yes to Odo had
he just asked.

     "Kira, please -- I want to work this out.  I -- I'm so -- unused
to this -- I've never -- had a relationship involving -- sex."

     She looked at him directly for the first time that morning.  She
studied him closely, saying nothing.  She was sure she saw guilt,
fear and even terror in his eyes -- terror or rejection, or terror of
being reported?

     "All right, Odo.  Here it is.  Why didn't you just tell me how
you felt?  That would have been far less embarrassing than what you
are facing now.  And exactly when were you going to drop the Sisko
charade?  If I had accepted it, then what?  If you want me, then
don't you want me to want you?  What would you have felt like if I
wanted Sisko instead of you?"

     "You do want me?"

     Kira blushed.

     "I -- I meant -- I --"

     She whirled and went to the door.

     "Get out!  Let's talk about this later!"

     "No!  I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty all day!
Especially not now.  Do you want me too, Kira?"

     She walked towards him and grabbed his left arm.

     "Get out, Odo"!"

     She could not have recounted the next moments if she had wanted
to -- they happened so fast.  One moment, she was staring Odo in the
face, furious, tugging at him.  The next, she was in his arms -- his
strong, strong arms -- being held more tightly than she believed she
could be held and still breathe.  His kisses were clumsy at first, a
virgin's kisses, a virgin in every sense of the word.  But he caught
on quickly as she responded, and she did so with abandon, pushing
every inch of her body closer to him, if that were even possible.
Her nose was so hot she couldn't bear it; she held an orgasm at bay
with extreme difficulty.  Here they were!  She couldn't believe it!
The two of them, continually acting like ice around loving couples
and threesomes and foursomes, ignoring their own desires, desires
which crackled right below the surface.

     Suddenly, he was gone; Kira staggered, caught her balance and
suddenly realized he was materializing into something beneath her
robe.  She shuddered with anticipation and fell back onto the bunk,
her heart racing, her nose tingling and hot.  Her skin was beaded
with sweat; blood whooshed in her ears.  She felt a hot, silken touch
suffusing her body; she ripped open her robe to touch what he had
become; when her fingers slid across it, they were enveloped in it.
She was being encased within him, she realized.  It was terrifying
and she didn't want it to continue, but didn't dare tell him to
stop.  She lay still, feeling him tangle himself around her.  Every
inch of her was covered now, in a filmy, silken warmth that tickled
and massaged her everywhere.  Her heart pounded in her ears; she
gasped, but there was plenty of air.  She couldn't move; he had her
pinned and entangled within his form.  Now she felt as if her body
was being licked absolutely everywhere.  Every point on the surface
of her skin was screeching with sensual contact.  She tried to cry
out, to tell him to stop, but she couldn't speak -- it was too much.
She couldn't do anything.  She knew that when he was finished with
her, she would be utterly exhausted.  She wanted to return the
feelings he was giving her, but had no idea how she would go about
doing it.  As she hovered at the brink of what she knew was going to
be a multi-orgasmic whirlwind, she wondered how the hell she was
going to survive this relationship.

	       ***            ***            ***

     "Where's my father?"

     "I don't know, Ztlaf.  Off causing trouble, no doubt."

     "When will I be able to see Jean-Luc again, Amanda?"

     "Soon, Ztlaf, soon.  You won't be able to --"

     "Yeah, yeah, I know.  I miss him."

     "I know you do."

     "So what happens next?  What do I have to do to help Odo?"

     "Later today Sisko is going to tell his son that they're going
on vacation.  The son will want to take his friend along.  They'll go
off, Sisko, Jake, Nog and Quark."

     "Quark?"

     "Yeah; just watch, you'll see.  It's going to be amusing.
Anyway, they're going to be captured, Sisko and Quark.  As events
unfold, you will learn why Odo needs to get to the Dominion, the
other shape-shifters in the Gamma Quadrant.  You will take your lead
from events as they come to pass.  At the appropriate time, you plant
a strong desire in Odo's mind to go to the Omarian Nebula.  Don't
worry; you will be guided."

     "And what of Jean-Luc?"

     "As you can see, he is getting along very nicely with Dr.
Crusher. -- I like her."

     "Me, too.  But I envy her just the same."

     "I know."

     They were quiet for a while.  Ztlaf went back to reading the
nineteenth-century American poetry Amanda had suggested she read.

     "This Whitman was an under-estimated mind, Amanda.  He really
captured the essence of humanity in so many ways.  I enjoy his poetry
most of all the worlds' poets I have seen."

     "Yes, I enjoy him, too."

     "Hey!  Look at this one!  Amanda, this is -- amazing."

     "Which?"

     "Listen:



      O Captain! My Captain!

  O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

  The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,

  The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

  While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

     But O heart! heart! heart!

       O the bleeding drops of red,

	 Where on the deck my Captain lies,

	   Fallen cold and dead.


  O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

  Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for you the bugle trills,

  For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores

     a-crowding,

  For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

     Here Captain! dear father!

       This arm beneath your head!

	 It is some dream that on the deck,

	   You've fallen cold and dead.


  My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

  My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

  The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

  From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

       Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

	 But I with mournful tread,

	   Walk the deck my Captain lies,

	     Fallen cold and dead."




     "Ztlaf, what is it?"

     "In a way, he is dead to me still.  He is no longer mine and
shall never be mine again."

     "Oh, stop talking like your father!  Picard never *belonged* to
you -- don't look at me that way -- I know what you think you mean,
and I know what you mean.  You can't hide from me, Ztlaf.  A part of
him will always be yours, the part that you gave him, a part of him
that will be there for the rest of his life.  He will never forget
you, and you will see him again, and share him again with the
universe of people, events and possibilities that make up his life."

     "I love him, Amanda."

     "You will love again, Ztlaf, and when you become full Q, and I
have every confidence that you will, this type of love, the type that
you know is possible now, will seem inconsequential to you in the
light of what will be possible for you then.  I have yet to realize
this truth; it has only been told to me, but from what I know now, I
am beginning to understand what was meant."

     Amanda came towards Ztlaf.

     "I can give you a taste of what it will be like, if you want it,
Ztlaf."

     Ztlaf eyed Amanda suspiciously.

     "I will have to change form.  Or are you going to change?  Our
present human forms apparently aren't into 'lesbianism'.  Is that the
word Terrans used to use?"

     "Yes. but you no longer have need for their paltry language."

     Ztlaf shuddered and moved away from Amanda, her face horrified.

     "Amanda!  Don't tease me like that!  Forget it!  It's not a good
idea to take our relationship to that -- plane -- anyway."

     "Ztlaf, your father doesn't own this form, you know.  You find
it appealing, so I chose it."

     "I don't care -- it's too much -- like him -- I'll feel as if
I'm --"

     "Oh, cut it out!  Concepts like incest don't exist in the
Continuum.  Your father was alarmed because of your half-shape-
shifter qualities.  If you wanted to, when you are full Q, you and he
can --"

     "Stop it, Amanda!  Lose that voice and that form!  I can't, I
won't --"

     "Ztlaf, I can read your mind, remember?  I am not your father!
Neither he nor I would trick you so mean-spiritedly!  And he's not
watching us!  He won't care.  He just chooses this form and this
voice for the sake of the Enterprise and his other visits to humanoid
species.  It doesn't belong to him.  You can use it one day too if
you want -- in fact, you always had the option to shift into his form
at will."

     "Amanda, you're hitting close to home now!  Please stop it; you
know what hell I've gone through to forget my -- feelings towards
him."

     "You don't have to forget them any more.  He will no longer use
this form around you except when you eventually visit the Enterprise
together.  By that time, you will be over this silly childish phase
and appearances won't mean a thing to you; they'll just be shells, as
they should be seen, were this a closer to perfect universe."

     Amanda, now with the voice and human form of Q, reached out for
Ztlaf.  Ztlaf turned to flee, but a quick glance back stopped her
retreat.  She looked into the mocking eyes and shivered as the
long-fingered hands touched her face.  Her mind screamed that this
was wrong, that this might be something she would regret forever, and
since forever was now within her realm of possibilities, she knew she
should think about this further.  The eyes were closer, the lips were
curling into a knowing grin.  Ztlaf felt the rush of fear and guilt
clashing with her animal hunger; she flinched from the man before her
and stepped back -- one step, two, three.  Then she was in his arms
and all resolve was lost in a hot, blinding shower of the realization
of years of burning passion.

			      The End