[Transporter Room 1:] Rendezvous at Starbase 4077

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Picard enters Transporter Room 1 with Commander Riker and Lieutenant Worf at his side. The technician is prepared to beam their guests aboard at Captain Picard's order.

"Ready, Lieutenant Worf?" Picard asks.

His Chief of Security clasps his hands behind his back, and nods. "As ready as we will ever be, sir."

Picard nods. "Engage."

Comments

[ten_fwd_npcs]

Three beam up from Starbase 4077. The first is a Vice Admiral, and one who Picard recognizes. The others — a man in his 40s who looks to be in his 20s, and a woman with her dark hair drawn up into a bun — he does not recognize.

"Captain Picard," the Vice Admiral greets as the three step off of the transporter pad, palm outstretched.

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"Vice Admiral," Picard greets, shaking the man's hand. "May I introduce you to my Number One, Commander William Riker, and my Chief of Security, Lieutenant Worf."

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The Vice Admiral shakes their hands in turn. "Adrian Tyrrell. I've heard good things about you, Riker. And Worf, first Klingon in Starfleet history to hold the title of lieutenant."

Vice Admiral Tyrrell has a way of speaking that would suggest these things are not quite meant as the compliments they appear to be. A buttoned-up man, aged, either from San Francisco himself or who has spent so long there it has erased all hints of an accent. He doesn't seem unfriendly at the start, but he is outspoken, blunt, and Picard knows him to be a man who disapproves when any breaches in command and tactical procedures are taking place.

"I'd like you to meet Agent Ariana Learmont from the Department of Temporal Investigations, and Lt. Commander Donovan Coates from Starfleet Intelligence," Tyrrell goes on.

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"Starfleet Intelligence?" Picard repeats, both eyebrows arched. "That is a surprise."

He had anticipated that an agent from DTI would likely be among those sent to the ship. To be honest, he had been anticipating it for some months now. But an Intelligence officer? Their investigations generally revolved around threats to the Federation.

Is that what they see here?

[ten_fwd_npcs]

Lt. Commander Coates steps forward to shake Picard's hand. Unlike the other two, he offers Picard and his men a friendly smile that appears to reach all the way to his brown eyes.

"If you'll forgive me for saying so, Captain, you have to admit enough has been going on on the Enterprise to grab our attention," he says. "Your reports mention some, well, interesting passengers from neighboring universes."

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Tyrrell takes the opportunity to jump in again.

"With some rather interesting abilities. It seems they've been allowed to run amok on your vessel for quite some time now."

The smile on his face is false, and lacks all semblance of humor. "It is the job of Commander Coates, Agent Learmont and I to see just how extensive the damage is."

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Picard, Riker, and Worf visibly tense somewhat, though it is the captain who speaks first.

"I'm confident that, once you have had the time to review everything, you will see that any damage has been minimal," he says, smiling tightly.

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"You have Captain James T. Kirk aboard, is that correct?" Agent Learmont interjects.

It is no secret why she may be asking. James T. Kirk has the biggest file on record in the DTI, with seventeen recorded temporal violations. It will have to be eighteen, now. Learmont arches one immaculately thinned brow, her expression one of mixed curiosity and exasperation.

"We'll see about that."

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Picard lets go a small puff of air, but maintains his smiling decorum. There is no argument he can present for that, so he merely hopes after today's earlier events Kirk will make himself scarce.

"Shall we?" he suggests, gesturing to the door. "I will lead you three to the observation lounge where we can continue the debriefing in a more private setting."

[ten_fwd_npcs]

"Thank you, Captain, but I would prefer to get right to it," the Vice Admiral says, as the six officers exit the transporter room. "All you need to know is that, for the duration of our time here, I will be keeping a close eye on all shipboard operations and personnel to assess whether or not I believe the Enterprise has been operating up to standard during this ... crisis."

There is some condescension in the way he utters that final word.

"As such, I would appreciate access to all records made over the past year, as well as the bridge and engineering levels.

"Commander Coates will be attempting to blend in for the most part, so that he can observe your guests up close and get a better feel for what it's been like on the ship since Q's interference, while Agent Learmont and I would prefer to conduct some interviews with your displaced guests, particularly the ones mentioned in your incident reports."

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Learmont nods, falling into step behind the vice admiral. She has remained mostly quiet up until now, but as she speaks her proper English accent has more of a chance to come through.

"As you well know, the circumstances here are a little more unusual than what we are more accustomed to, being that many of the displaced passengers not only come from other times but other places completely," she begins. "I will need access to all manifestos and preferably any information you can provide me with these passenger's worlds. I am particularly interested in the displaced officers you have reported, naturally. A few who come to mind are Lt. Commander Terzen T'Karr from the Pathfinder, previously deceased Lieutenant Natasha Yar, and most recently I believe Doctor Beverly Crusher from this very ship, am I correct?"

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Picard glances over his shoulder sharply, but returns his focus to the path ahead before he speaks.

"Pardon me for saying so, but I was under the impression that Starfleet Command's main objective was to address the situation with Q," he says, coming to a stop in front of a turbolift. "And by extension, to find a solution in returning these displaced passengers to their homes."

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"Why, Captain, that's precisely what we are doing," Vice Admiral Tyrrell answers, shaking his head. "But your unorthodox passengers are part of that situation with Q, and every minute they remain here they risk further contamination to our current timeline. Not to mention they are practically holding the Federation's flagship hostage."

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"I beg to differ, Vice Admiral. I—"

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"I'm sure you do," Tyrrell interrupts, waving Picard off. "But those are the facts of the situation, whether you like it or not. Q has your nuts in a vice, Captain, and so far you haven't done a damn thing to free yourself."

Tyrrell turns to Picard face-on, making sure his next few words will be inescapably clear.

"We don't know anything about these people. We don't know if they're telling us the truth, or if they're in on this with Q. Hell, you've got Khan Noonien Singh on this boat, we don't know if any of these people have shown up here with beefs against the Federation. But I can tell you what we do know, and that's that these people possess unspeakable power and the potential to not only destroy this ship, but to wreak havoc on the entire known universe. Is it true you even have a Borg on board?

"You've lost control of the situation, Picard. And we're here to regain it."

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Captain Picard withstands the dressing down with every ounce of dignity he possesses. Worf attempts to come forward, but he silently instructs him to fall back. Anger will do them no good in this situation.

"While I understand your position, Vice Admiral," he begins, voice level and cool. "I have come to know these people very well over the course of the past year, and I assure you they will not idly accept interrogation."

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"Friendly questioning, Picard, that's all," Tyrell says, taking the captain's shoulder. "We just want to get to know them."

He nods to the turbolift, ready to get on with it.

"Don't forget that your first responsibility is to the Federation, Captain," he warns. "Not to these people. Or do I have to remind you of the disaster at Alemar III? As long as the Q have an interest in this ship, things must be done by the book. If you want to protect these people, if you want to get them home, then you better make sure you're the one pulling the strings here and not anybody else. Now, take us to wherever on this ship these people go, and let's get started."

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Picard bites his tongue for the time being, though it pains him to do so. He nods, and Worf moves toward the turbolift doors.

They open on Q wearing a Starfleet admiral's uniform, both arms and ankles crossed.

"Did I hear my name?" he asks.

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What pitiful, childish fools these people are.

"And I thought Picard needed to lighten up," he singsongs, clucking his tongue at the vice admiral. "What is it in a human's nature that makes them so suspicious? Is it your relatively quaint trek up the evolutionary ladder? Even children have some trust, some faith, some measure of belief in goodness and rightness and that a gift is but a gift. A parent could give a child a serpent and claim it's an egg, and the child would grasp onto it with both hands! That's in your storybook, you know. Wonderful read, the Bible."

He straightens up and gives a bow, and in a flash he reappears behind their shoulders.

"Or, I wonder, is it ambition? To sniff out the conspiracy, to let paranoia catapult you into a higher rank simply to further your own means? What does it matter who you step on on your way to the top, so long as you get there," he sneers. "Isn't that what you humans are best at?"

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"He's saved us the trouble," Coates pipes up, once the shock has worn off.

"Come to turn yourself in, Q?" Tyrrell asks, going toe-to-toe with him.

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Blink.

Q looks at Captain Picard. "Honestly, where did you find these people, Picard? They aren't very bright."

Learmont makes a grab for him, and so he winks into nothingness, his disembodied voice echoing in the hall.

"Oh-ho-ho, did you really think it would be that easy?"

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"You can hide," Tyrrell calls, teeth grit. "But I promise you, you won't be able to hide forever. You can't stop us from our mission."

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"Stop you?"

He reappears on the opposite end of the hall, leaning against a door frame affecting one of James Dean's most popular poses.

"Stop you from what? Needling innocent people? Casting aspersions on your fellow Starfleet officers? Conducting unnecessary inquiries into people you're not going to find in any Federation or historical records you know of? Now, why would I do that when seeing you reap the benefits of your mission will be so much more satisfying?" he laughs. "Though, if you are going to act like petulant children, then you may as well look the part."

With a grin, he snaps his fingers and vanishes again.

"I hope you enjoy your time here, Vice Admiral."

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"What the hell was that?" Learmont asks.

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Picard arches his eyebrows, sighing deeply.

"That was your first encounter with the Q, Agent," he says, stepping into the turbolift. "I promise it will not be your last."

"What do you suppose he meant by 'look the part', sir?" Worf asks Picard in an undertone.

"I haven't the slightest, Lieutenant," Picard answers in a similar tone. "But I'm sure we won't like the answer."

"Picaaaard," Q's disembodied voice singsongs. "Do put on a decent uniform next time you entertain such important guests, would you? That one makes you look as though you've been eating too many buttered croissants."


Picard frowns.