by Edward H. Bart IV from an idea by Jesse Catalano

[editor's note: this story is not a "canon" ST:TC story. This was written Christmas 2002 for Jesse Catalano.]


        "Ah well, it's that time of the year again on Earth. I feel like being a little Dickens. Let's see... who shall I pester this time?"

        Captain Thomas R. Johnson was startled when he opened his eyes, finding himself in an immense white void. He didn't know what he was standing on, how far the whiteness went on one direction or another.
        He saw that he wasn't alone. A tall figure, draped in a white hooded robe. Johnson couldn't make out a face. However, the figure took a step backward, pulling the hood back away from his head. The captain knew who he was in a flash. It was Q.
        "Surprised to see me, mon captaine?" Q smiled.
        Johnson didn't return Q's smile. Instead, he only stared at the trickster. "Q, where am I?"
        The question was hardly surprising to Q at all. Q merely shrugged and inclined his head to the captain. "Ah, my captain, what you see here is a great, vast, big nothing."
        "A big nothing?" Johnson frowned, looking slightly confused.
        Q sighed, as if he had hoped the captain would have understood. He shook his head, clasping his hands together. "You humans are so short sighted. Imagine if you will, the distance between two points, halved."
        Johnson only looked at Q, immobile.
        "Half that distance again," Q said. "And half that distance, again, and again, ad infinitum, ad nauseum."
        "Yes, yes, I know the theory, it points out the basic paradox of motion. We learned that in math class," Johnson said. "To get to Point A to Point B, you have to cross the halfway point, and to get to the halfway point, you have to cross the halfway point to the halfway point, so on and on. From a mathematics standpoint, you'll never reach Point B."
        "Bravo. The Fourth Principle of Syuvesa's Laws, if I recall correctly."
        "Actually, it's called-"
        Q waved his hand dismissively at Johnson. "Never mind what you humans call it. You think you're the only ones to have thought of it? It's known by hundreds of different names on hundreds of different planets. Anyway, the point is, that's where we are."
        "Where?"
        Q heaved a theatrical sigh and rolled his eyes. "I just went through explaining this to you. Weren't you paying attention?"
        Johnson shook his head, "No, I get it now. We're at halfway point, infinity?"
        "If you have to put it that way, I suppose so. Sure. Now can we get back to matters at hand?"
        "Fine," Johnson said. "Why am I here?"
        Q cleared his throat and spoke. All of a sudden his voice echoed from all directions. "You are here to be judged."
        Then the enigmatic being snapped his fingers. The white void was now once again empty.

        Johnson's vision cleared and he found himself in an old courtroom, circa the 22nd century, sometime after World War III. A bedraggled band of people ringed the courtroom chamber. They shouted various slurs and curses in a mix of languages.
        An odd whirring noise made Johnson turn around. A darkened balcony opened above the spectators. A throne-like hovercraft floated out of the balcony, lowering down to just about Johnson's eye-level, forcing him to look up to look Q in his eyes.
        Q was dressed in the typical judicial garb of the era, a red velvet robe draped over a black tunic, adorned with gold jewelry. A gigantic and ridiculous looking hat sat atop Q's head. Q, however, had a grim expression set on his face.
        Johnson had the nagging feeling that Q had done this before, but he didn't know how he knew it. He had generally dismissed the detailed reports of Q's contact with Starfleet, since they sounded too fantastical to be completely true, and yielded nothing worth of note. The main gist of Starfleet's orders regarding Q was: "Q is a dangerous and unpredictable alien entity, of unknown power and abilities. Avoid contact at all costs." Johnson considered that order to be all that he needed to know.
        Since Johnson couldn't get away from wherever 'here' was, he decided to see how things played out.
        As Q's throne-bench came to a hover in front of Johnson, he declared, "Captain Thomas Robert Johnson, Junior, you are hereby charged with the destruction of humanity. How does the defendant plead?"
        Johnson crossed his arms and looked up at Q. "I refuse to recognize this court's authority." The rabble that circled the courtroom shouted jeers and boos.
        Q held up a hand, silencing the audience. "That's to be expected," Q said. "Your mind is incapable of recognizing this court's authority. Very well, I'll put in a plead of 'not guilty,' on behalf of the defendant." Q waved nonchalantly to a unseen court stenographer. Then he returned his gaze to Johnson.
        "Return me to my ship," Johnson said.
        "Not until the prosecution has made its case," Q said.
        Another man spoke from behind Johnson, making him turn.
        Q was standing behind Johnson, dressed in a sharp pinstripe business suit circa the 20th century, complete with a bowtie and tan attache case. Johnson turned back to the judge's seat. Q remained sitting there in his old judge's robes.
        The Q behind Johnson said, "The prosecution wishes to present to the court Exhibit A."

        Johnson's vision blurred and he blinked, finding himself on a dark bridge, illuminated only by flashing red lights, and small electrical fires. Smoke hung overhead, and a viewscreen flickered, shot through with static.
        Johnson recognized the scene immediately.
        The prosecutor confirmed Johnson's suspicions. "The bridge of the Kitty Hawk."
        Out of the dim lighting, Johnson saw himself, and another crewman rushing from station to station, working at a frantic pace. The viewscreen flared up, and the screen cleared.
        Johnson recognized the battered U.S.S. Cabot, his first wife's ship, something he never thought he'd see again. Johnson spun around angrily to face Q, the judge. "What's the point of this? Why have you brought me here to my old ship? Is this some kind of perverse Christmas Carol? The ghost of Christmas Past?"
        The judge tilted his head to the side, considering Johnson's words. "Interesting. Perhaps. I suppose the only thing missing is Scrooge."
        In a flash, another man appeared on the bridge. Johnson looked at him, recognizing him. "Admiral Picard?"
        Picard was dressed in an old fashioned black suit, with a tophat on. Picard saw Johnson, but didn't recognize him. "Cratchit? What is going on?"
        Q laughed, and snapped his gloved fingers, making Picard disappear. He stopped laughing abruptly. "Enough fun and games. Do you understand why we are here?"
        "No," Johnson answered.
        "This is only the beginning of the path you've chosen for yourself. Since this day, you have avoided your destiny, fleeing it rather than embracing it. Continuing the Christmas Carol metaphor you so aptly pointed out, you have become a Scrooge, withdrawing into yourself, denying your true nature."
        "What does this have to do with this crap about destroying humanity?"
        The pinstriped suited Q approached Johnson. "What was the nature of your mission after you lost your ship, the Kitty Hawk? As the captain of the newly christened Kitty Hawk, NCC-44052-A?"
        "Uh, exploratory. We were sent to Sector 221-H."
        "And this was close to the front lines of the Dominion War?" the prosecutor asked.
        "No."
        "Quite removed, wouldn't you say?"
        "Yes. I still don't see-"

        The scene changed. The judge, the prosecutor, and Johnson were standing on a light gray surface with a dark sky overhead. With a start, Johnson realized they were standing on a starship's hull. Streaks of stars rushed by overhead, and Johnson turned to see they were standing on a gigantic saucer. Looking behind him, the captain saw the bridge module rise up from the slope of the hull, and two tall cylindrical towers strutting up on either side of the bridge.
        "We're on the Courageous," Johnson remarked breathlessly.
        "Correct," the prosecutor said. "Exhibit B, the U.S.S. Courageous. Currently in transit to the section of the Milky Way Galaxy termed The Borderlands, as Starfleet has taken to calling it."
        Johnson felt in the grip of vertigo. His senses were refusing to accept the current environment. He shouldn't be able to be standing on a starship hull while in warp. He shouldn't be able to be breathing in the vacuum of space. His stomach churned, and his knees weakened.
        "Oh, accept it and move on," Q, the judge, sighed wearily, snapping his fingers impatiently. "Prosecution, continue with your questioning."
        The other Q stepped up to look at Johnson. "This is your current ship, correct?"
        "Yes," Johnson said, focusing on Q's eyes, regaining his composure.
        "And please state the nature of your current mission."
        "We're to explore the Borderlands, make first contact with any warp-travel civilizations, and prospect for resources to use in the war effort."
        "War effort?" Q took off the coat of his business suit, draping it across the back of a wooden chair that stood on the hull of the Courageous. He undid his bowtie, letting the ends drape down his front, and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. "War effort?" he repeated. "Ah, yes, the Dominion War is still continuing at this point in your time?"
        "Yes," Johnson nodded, trying to shrug off the incongruities that surrounded him. He kept looking at the wooden chair that the prosecutor draped his coat over.
        "How would you characterize the current state of the Dominion War?"
        Johnson blinked and looked at Q, the prosecutor, who appeared to be sweating. He was fanning himself with a sheaf of papers. "Uh, a stalemate."
        Q, the attorney, tossed down his papers onto a wooden table, then dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Please elaborate on that."
        "Well, ever since the crew at Deep Space Nine managed to close the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant about ten years ago, the Dominion forces have been limited to numbers that approximately equals our forces. And our technology has risen to match their level in some respects."
        "One such technological advancement is this?" Q, the prosecutor tapped the hull plate beneath his brown shoes. "This ship?"
        "Yes."
        "Are there other ships of this kind in service?"
        Johnson shook his head. "No, the Courageous is the first of its line. There are more in production, but none in service right now. Other than my ship."
        Q, the prosecutor, tucked his handkerchief away in his vest pocket. "How would you rate the Courageous to the other ships in Starfleet? Stronger, faster, weaker, better, worse?"
        Johnson frowned. "Well... it's bigger, one of the more technologically advanced ships in the fleet, more powerful, faster in some respects..."
        Q smiled. "Captain's pride aside, would you say the Courageous is the best ship in the fleet?"
        "Well, one of the best ships... look, I still don't see where you are going with this. I think this is a waste of time. This has nothing to do with anything. I'm not guilty of anything."
        The judge loomed closer in his seat. Q smirked. "Ah, my captain... everyone is guilty of something or other..."

        The acrid stench of smoke and chemicals hit Johnson. He looked around himself, finding himself standing in the middle of a rubble filled crater. Q, back in his customary red captain's uniform, stood by his side.
        "What, no robe or silly hat? No district attorney?" Johnson quipped uneasily.
        "All unnecessary trappings," Q waved his hand. "This is an important piece of evidence, and you humans are easily distracted by shiny things. Look around. Study your surroundings."
        Johnson slowly rotated in 360 degrees, taking in the bleak ash-shrouded vista. Remains of buildings dotted the crater. Vehicles were melted into misshapen blocks, rendering them unrecognizable.
        In the distance, Johnson thought he recognized the sound of satellite based energy weapons. Johnson continued circling in place, until he saw a great metal skeleton, twisted and distorted by intense heat from weapons fire, presumably. Instinctually, Johnson recognized the metal structure.
        "The Eiffel Tower? We're in Paris? Earth?" Johnson spun to face Q.
        "Oui," Q murmured, nodding somberly. "Welcome to Armageddon, Ground Zero."
        "What happened?"
        Q shrugged. "Technically, from your perspective, it hasn't happened, so, nothing happened. The Tower continues to be a haven to romantics, the Federation Capital building remains standing, and the President is hard at work on his weekly inspirational speech. Everything's fine." Q smiled, looking at the charred remains of Paris.
        "I don't... I don't understand... what does this have to do with me?"
        Q sighed angrily. "I would have thought putting it in alphabetical order would have helped your tiny mind grasp it. Exhibit A."
        They stood on the battle-scarred bridge of the Kitty Hawk.
        "Exhibit B." They stood on the saucer of the U.S.S. Courageous.
        "And Exhibit C." They were back in the ruins of Paris, on Earth. "A, B, C."
        Johnson frowned angrily and shook his head. "How can I be responsible for the destruction of Humanity, if that's what this is supposed to be," Johnson swept his hands around the crater, "when I'm 50,000 light-years away from the Alpha Quadrant?"
        Q looked at his fingernails and said, "You just answered your own question."
        "You said I was avoiding destiny, earlier. Is that what I've been doing?"
        "Seems like it."
        "But I'm only following orders," Johnson said. "They told me to take the Courageous to the Borderlands."
        "You didn't challenge their decision. That's in your prerogative to do so. Or are you such a sheep that you'll blindly follow orders?"
        "The Courageous is only one ship. One ship won't make a difference in the war."
        "She is not just one ship, Johnson. She is a part of you. She is a part of the fabric of destiny, as well."
        "That's crazy. That's... that's..."
        Q fixed Johnson with a steely glare. "When you have seen what I have seen, walked where I have walked, you will come to a realization that the Universe is so much more complicated than you could have ever imagined. Do not discount anything."
        Johnson sank down to the blackened ground, sitting crosslegged. Several moments seemed to pass by. The wind changed direction, and picked up speed. Flecks of ash flew past Johnson. Finally, the captain looked up at Q. "Well... what- what am I supposed to do?"
        "Stand up."
        Johnson stood up, and saw that he was back in the odd white void. Nobody was around. The whiteness became oppressive, and he started to lose all sense of direction and being. Johnson squinted at the whiteness surrounding him. Suddenly Q stood directly in front of Johnson.
        Q leaned forward, staring at Johnson intently. "You will have to make choices," he whispered. "You will have to do things you never thought possible, things you never thought you would do, and things you do not want to do."
        Then Q stepped backwards.
        Johnson found himself looking up at Q, who was garbed in the old judge's robes of office. They were back in the old courtroom. The galley was empty, now only Johnson and Q remained in the courtroom.
        Q leaned back in his seat and it floated upwards, back into the dark balcony. "The court finds Captain Johnson not guilty... yet. Until such time that the court can render a more final verdict... I declare the court to be in recess..." And Q vanished into the blackness.
        Captain Thomas R. Johnson jerked awake, opening his eyes to the darkness of his bedroom.

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