Updated Sunday 15 May, 2011 12:18 PM

I hate him

This little story is based mainly on Alara’s work. Permission to copy is granted. Paramount owns these characters. Pretty good for a character who had only 5 mins on stage.

I hate him. I’ve always hated him. And when you are an immortal being with a lifespan of twenty billion years, that’s a lot of hate. Luckily, he is a mere six billion years, so I guess I’ve not hated him forever, it just feels that way.

Hate is irrational, do I hear you say? Honestly, what would you feel for someone who’s shattered your peaceful, if boring, world and forced you to face the chance that you could die. One moment you’re peacefully swimming about, next moment the continuum is being disrupted, the forces for order and change form up – and there’s a civil war on our hands.

I’m talking about Q and Q and Q and Q. How could he!

Quinn, my old friend, went mad and killed himself. Q allowed it to happen, let Quinn trick him into a stalemate and then let his human pet help him die. Q supplied the poison, but I’m sure that Janeway would be more than willing to do it in his place.

And then the war. I took no part in it myself. Then the greatest shock as Q’s companion, Q, created a weapon that mortals could use to kill Q. The war ended with that shock – and then they produced a child and cemented their victory.

So I hate him. And I looked for opportunities to humiliate the self-appointed supreme grand mugwump of the continuum. It did not take long to find one.

Q2, you see, was an irresponsible brat. Worse than his farther. Trelane, one of two other young Q’s, never had the malice that Q2 displayed. So I moved openly against him and tried to force Q into a position in which he would have no choice, but to strip the boy of his powers and dump him somewhere.

Q turned to his old friend, Janeway, again and asked her to look after his brat. Now, honestly, what is a mortal going to be able to do against a Q with awesome powers? Much to my surprise, Janeway coped quite well, but she could not give any discipline to the brat. Pushing imaginary limits, Q2 moved three Borg cubes to the Voyager, and waited to watch the show. I, of course, alerted his father and watched as Q saved Janeway and her crew in the nick of time and dragged him off for some quality time together.

Of course, that did not work, and Q was soon back at Janeway’s for more advice. He made the boy human and gave him a week to shape up – or else. The boy did surprisingly well, but soon broke out and took one of his new friends into danger. Q refused to help out and so the boy was brave enough to face the so-called hostile ship again and discovered that his father had set up a test to see if he’d changed. Q declared victory and took him to the judge – guess who – for trial. See how bad a dad (heh) he is:

"He worked so hard on that paper. The least you could've done was tell him you were proud of him."

"But I'm not."

I considered the matter in linked union with my co-judges and announced – not without some gloating – that Q2 had not passed the requirements. “But what about my test?” protested Q.

“What about it?” I sighed? Q protested that the test proved that his son had developed much further than he really had. I objected and announced court dismissed before Q (or Janeway) could say anything.

Q was right, through; he went back to the continuum and managed to get a more sympathizing quorum together. Q2 was reinstated, although he was left on probation.

Still, I guess I scared him. I’m now his supervisor.

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggg

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