…

Emptiness. She had felt that enough as a mortal. That crushing sense of nothing deep in her chest. It was suspended in infinite void. It was sinking to the bottom of a pool with no air left. It was a needle slowly drawing mucus from between her ribs. It was being stuck in a pit below and looking up at others. 

At least back then she had an imagination, the kind of mind that inspired writing, songs, art. Omnipotence didn’t need hobbies. She let herself become her own mind. She let her once mortal mind shape her immortal, fluid body into what it was now. 

In her mind, she saw neons, claws, writhing necks and wings, and blood that ran dark and thick like tar. She coughed up phlegm made of it, and her golden tears stained every surface it came into contact with. 

She saw herself with no mouth when she rested, something so Human and yet so alien that her appearance made a mockery of it. It had been so long since she looked like herself, rather than what her feelings made her appear as. Even if she turned back, would she have kept everything about it? Would she have kept the pale, clammy skin, the bloody, cracked lips, all the useless organs and external anatomy she hated? 

If she could still think in this state right now, she would have found it amusing. Any other rational woman she knew when given the chance to make themselves an ideal body would have made themselves flawless in their eyes. Instead, she grew herself into scales and feathers. Yes, her skin was now silken and cotton to the touch, and she indeed made her body to have no flaws, albeit in the unconventional sense. Everything about her was perfect, even the tar she retched, even the things that made her absolutely revolting. 

Yet here she stayed in her punishment, not even a blip on the plane of existence. She had been forced out of bounds, and forced to experience the pain of emptiness when it was real and not just in her head.

“I hope you learned your lesson. It’d be a shame if you didn’t. After all, I’ve had to keep you in time-out like a child. That would just be a waste if you were twiddling your thumbs.”

Was that what it was? A lesson? He had a funny idea of torment.

Now that she could assume a form, Alaric grabbed at her throat to force out some semblance of a sound, but she could feel the fibers of her own windpipe sealed together like overgrown vines. She could tell he was finding amusement in such a Human struggle, or at least Human-adjacent. It was hard to keep her head up. Abstract shapes pulled at her eyelids and spoke to her in murmurs she wished to chase. 

The voice she used was that of television static. It crackled and buzzed pathetically, just a babbling newborn begging for its caretaker to understand. When was it? It probably didn’t matter. It hurt all her senses to just exist again. 

Q answered her. “No, I don’t think you have, actually. Maybe I’m just not understanding something. Please, enlighten me, my dear.”

In a flash, the setting immediately changed to that of an old memory: the therapist office she used to attend in her much younger years as a mortal, Q sitting in the chair looking over some notes. Alaric shuddered. She had been kept away from anything like this for centuries, and all of a sudden he’s taunting her with this now? 

My home is just outside this building. It’s right there.

Her hands clenched into fists, and when she looked down she realized that she couldn’t change her shape. Her nails were short like they had been bitten off. She felt metal on her teeth and resting on her cheeks. 

This isn’t right. 

Alaric felt like she had been unceremoniously shoved back into an outfit that she outgrew long ago. 

You’re Human again. He’s letting you be a Human again. You should be relishing this.

Why aren’t you?

She already knew the answer.

“‘Client expresses concern for recent family troubles and disagrees with proposed explanations. Personally, I think she’s a selfish, obsessive, overdramatic child who only wishes there was something wrong with her to feel important.’ Did she really say these things about you?”

“Stop taunting me,” she hissed out, surprised to find not only that she could talk normally, but that her voice sounded so much younger in her ears. 

“On the contrary. I’m only trying to understand what it is about this species that has you so drawn after all this time. If anything, I’m fascinated. I never wanted to hurt you, Q.”

That’s a lie, and that’s not my name. 

Q examined the notes and tossed them in the air, letting the papers flutter about and settle on the ground. “You know… in my opinion, they’ve shoved their grimy little fingers into too much of the galaxy. Federation, Starfleet… I did some research. That’s what they’re calling their “empire.” They belong back on their rock, surely you would agree if you lived there all your miserable, mortal life.”

“It’s in our nature to explore.” There it was again, that stupid slip-up. Our. There was no “our” anymore. 

“It’s in their nature to destroy. I’ve been trying to tell you that for the longest time, Q! You should not strive to be some– some murderous scum!” He spat and stood up, his form looming over hers.

“We’ve evolved you from the primordial soup of bloodthirsty fungus you once were. The least you can do is thank us.”

“Thank you…” Alaric mumbled with a lot less enthusiasm than what she was attempting to stir up. “Can I go now?”

Q rolled his eyes. “You really are a child, aren’t you? The answer is no. I need to counsel you until you finally become grateful for what you are.”

“So the Continuum is making you?”

She knew how it worked. The rest of the Q were displeased with both of their behaviors, and in turn forced him to try and “fix” her. Q despised her, and he wanted anything but to be in the vicinity of her right now. 

“The inner workings of the Continuum are too complex for your little mind to comprehend yet.”

There he was again with that condescension. She wasn’t a child, not at all. A large part of her yearned to be one again, but it didn’t matter now. She could alter her form, block out her own memories, but her mind would never change. That was one of the main conditions for her transformation: she could never change, not in a mental sense. Peace symbols kept the wars at bay for millennia, but they would always age into something that had opinions. No, they needed something stagnant, something they could mold instead of create. 

“You could learn a lot from them.” Shit. Why was she always incriminating herself?

He raised an eyebrow and curled his lips back into that stupid, self-satisfied smirk. “Violence, perhaps?” 

He didn’t care about violence! He would rather have hopped around the galaxy, messing around with beings like bugs in a terrarium while he watched everyone else tear themselves apart! What right did he have to judge the behavior of Humans?

“I’m sorry you think so low of me,” he pouted playfully, obviously having read her thoughts while her guard was down. “But I have the right to enforce order onto a disorganized race, and I think you’ve given me a most marvelous idea.”

No. No, no, no. She hated that look in his eyes, the kind that lit up his entire expression like a kid being given free reign of a firearm. Alaric tried to stand up to protest, but he was already gone, along with the room and its surroundings.

Now she found the ability to slip off the restrictive shell and morph into something she had grown to be a lot more comfortable in. 

…

But how strange was that? That she was more comfortable looking like this than the Human she used to be. She tried to chalk it up to the fact that it wasn’t the form she had grown into before turning into what she is now. That was a younger her, someone who had not yet discovered who she wanted to be without blaming her problems on her own mind. 

Now was no time to dwell again, not this time. Alaric had infinite time to do that. She had to find Q… or– the Q so hell-bent on torturing her. Closing her eyes and extending her hand, she attempted to try and feel the particles of the universe on her fingertips. They bobbled and rolled, carrying her with it in their cosmic waves. She let those ripples carry her to where they grew turbulent, like space itself was being disturbed by a very specific presence. It was difficult to focus on it in a way that would make the process effortless, but she knew who she should go to for help with that.

Hm. But should I…?

The stray thought broke her out of the concentration, and soon she was just idly floating in the black vacuum. It made a twinge of guilt settle in her chest. The other one was probably looking for her–probably had been… but this was more important. 

Concentrate you… you…

Urgh. Spear-eyed jackal. Just–

Oh.

No.

It hadn’t been the Continuum. They wouldn’t have allowed him to conduct whatever trickery he was up to, but it was close enough. It was, and it wasn’t, it was a place inverted into itself, the entirety of the Continuum presiding and yet completely ungoverned, the space Q had created to get away with it. They were going to know she was here.

And I have to know what he’s planned.

Alaric took a deep breath within the barren land lacking of any real oxygen, steeled herself, and willed herself into the space. 

“The prisoners will not be harmed until they are found guilty. Dispose of that.”

What…

Alaric swiveled her head around the now physical design. Civilians dressed in dreary clothes, wood carving, furnished building, the cool, dank air.

Is this a…?

“Can we assume you mean this will be a fair trial?”

“Yes, absolutely equitable. Proceed.”

Courtroom…?

“Before this gracious court now appear these prisoners to answer for the multiple and grievous savageries of their species. How plead you, criminal?”

Four of them.

She had so many questions, none of which would have been answered anytime in the future.

Two aren’t even Human. Is he judging Starfleet? Is the captain answering for the entire species?

No, it was entirely ridiculous to even entertain this! What he was doing was just mindless! 

Yet the sight of her surroundings made something in her ache. She had lived through her fair share of savagery within the race. It had been what she grew up in, but this kind of chaos… the shouting of the audience in court, the guns being pointed at the “charged.” She had only heard about this era from the word of mortals.

It was a vow she had made that no matter how they became, she would never abandon a certain allegiance to them, a kind of spiritual bond set aside from whatever form she took. No matter how she looked, no matter what she was, she was Human. 

In some aspect, but she wasn’t one of them anymore.

Her shoulders tensed when the once flowing, warm blood of one of them suddenly grew cold. The form fell stiffly backwards before being caught by the android. The crowd was in uproar, the sounds of their shouts and claps echoing sharply around and up to the near endless ceiling.

Teeth clenching, she stood up and moved towards the accused, though froze when the cold metal barrel pointed at her own head. It was a silly instinct that hadn’t yet faded away–the fear of death, even now. It was best not to think about it too much.

Q glanced poisonously at her, forcing her to sit back down before the captain could follow his gaze. There was no way he was serious about this. That was never in his nature, at least nothing she’d seen of him. The deadpan, authoritative expression was merely another part to act. Really, what was the difference between what they did? They both put on a play of a character, only that his was one of power and hers helplessness. 

At least she never so carelessly toyed with lives.

Not intentionally. 

Even if it was an act, though, he would still follow through. Was he really going to wipe out an entire race? Wouldn’t the Continuum have anything to say about that, especially when so blatantly occupying a shelf of their presence? 

“This is a merciful court.”

Alaric wanted so badly to warn the captain, to tell him all the words he needed to say in order to be spared, to play into Q’s game just until he got bored enough and left them alone. Maybe propose a game of his own, but she knew he would be able to detect any “trickery.”

“Guilty. Provisionally.”

Good. 

“The captain had asked the question. ‘Can we assume you mean this will be a fair trial?’ And in reply the judge stated, ‘Yes, absolutely equitable.’”

“Irrelevant testimony, entirely irrelevant.”

You’re not playing by the rules, Q…

The Human suddenly raised his voice with a sort of passion she only recognized in certain lifeforms when on the brink of destruction, the kind of intelligent panic that begged for mercy in a way that kept their dignity. He was smart, and he had a twinkle in his eyes that suggested much more than just the simple fear of punishment. Courage. That’s what she loved about them. Courage to get themselves out of an impossible situation like this, courage to brave storms and heavy fire to rescue someone like her. 

“Test us!”

Intriguing. Now that was something he couldn’t pass up. They were practically offering themselves as mice to be placed in a maze, but what other choice did they have?

She did her best to repress the immediate relief washing over her as soon as he accepted the proposal. This still wasn’t over yet, they still had the long trial ahead of whatever new test he had planned for them. That then would decide their fate.

Alaric could only hope this particular crew had what it took to outsmart a Q.

…

“Oh, wipe that smug look off your face. You just started existing again.”

“You find them interesting,” she chirped back in playful sing-song before quickly stiffening again. This probably wasn’t the time to be joking around when he could just stop this whole thing with the snap of his fingers. Still, she could tell that some aspect of them had him… intrigued.

“All mortals are the same,” Q scoffed. “I could find the same amount of interest in a worm.”

“You wouldn’t test a worm,” Alaric murmured much quieter this time, looking at him from the corner of her eye to make sure she wasn’t taking it too far. 

He just brushed her off with a wave of his hand. “Why don’t you go play with your little friend? I’ll come back to tell you when the Humans fail.”

Who? Her? Quixotic? That wasn’t a good idea right now. She probably thought she was still evading her or something, not erased from a few planes of reality just for yearning too much. It didn’t help that the last time they saw each other…

“You killed them?!”

Alaric trembled, glimmering tears streaming down her face. “They took care of me. They loved me! Don’t you? Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”

A lot of races that were familiar with the Continuum rather than the individuals that made up its body understood its goal: to establish a presence of balance to the universe. That was all, at least from her understanding which was apparently too feeble. With such a simple goal, it was a wonder how they managed to mess it up so badly. Over the billion-thousands, millions of tens of centuries, their goal just became a vague state of mind like a mental illness. Those who succumbed to it did nothing but sit on their self-made thrones and rot, while others were more concerned with their own than the mortals they were supposed to be looking after. So what happens when a select few of this all-knowing, individual collective decide to turn on creation?

Trials. Games. Entertainment. That’s all they wanted, and Alaric was a fool to be blindsighted by the same stray hair that made this Q and Quixotic so similar.

The funny part was that both Alaric and Q knew nonlinearly exactly how this game was going to play out, and they didn’t at the same time. She was created into a period where the civil wars raged stronger than what he knew to do about it. The baby didn’t work, the other baby didn’t work, and the countless other figures didn’t work either. Maybe this was just a nice time for him, the day he became particularly infatuated with a mortal, Starfleet captain.

But neither of them knew, and yet they did.

Wasn’t that the game?

“What’s with all this mucking around? Crawl about, shoot something! Anything!” Q glanced over at her. “They’re just sitting and floating with their heads down. Do you really want to keep preaching so proudly of them? They’re like… bumbling chores!”

Again, he was gone, and soon the living vessel had started its barrage down on the planet. She could hear it from the adjacent dimension. At least it gave her some idea of where he even went. 

“You’re running out of time, Captain.”

Disguising herself as undetectable flicks of subspace interference, Alaric wriggled her way onto the bridge of the Federation ship to watch the ordeal herself instead of simply detecting the events passing by. 

“Either leave or finish us!”

“Temper temper, mon Capitaine. I'm merely trying to assist a pitiful species.”

What a savior, she scoffed to herself as he flourished himself in light. At least this crew was starting to understand. The puzzle wasn’t so difficult, really, but it was easy to return violence with violence. That was what Q was counting on. He wanted them to fire on the vengeful partner out to rescue the victim, and while he was proving to himself that Humans were savage, he was trying to prove to her that it was dangerous to be a victim around these people, because look at what they do to the weak, the helpless.

In some sense, Alaric was supposed to be the “farpoint station,” and its mate the benevolent Continuum out to save her, but the mortals get in the way! They’ve enslaved her, of course, to be a vessel of their bidding, and the Humans specifically are trying to stop the Continuum from enfolding her into their loving arms, so they must fight back. It was their duty, their lives, whatever that word meant to them now. 

And still…

“Destroy it while you have a chance. Make phasers and photon torpedoes ready.”

“No! Do nothing he demands.”

They would not fire. How could they? It was not in their nature to kill something they didn’t understand. Maybe in the past, but not now.

“Let it have whatever it can absorb. Energise.”

It was beautiful. Somehow, across probabilities of growing figures, there were still so many things out there that reminded her of home. Giant sea creatures roaming the cosmos like they would push themselves through still water. Alaric marveled at the sight on the viewscreen just as the others did. 

“We did feed it!” The man uselessly stammered like he was trying to defend the unknowing abuse of a pet.

Eyes firmly trained on him, the captain retorted, “Only enough to keep it alive, so that you could force it to shape itself into whatever form you needed!”

Fed with affection, the Q-creature changed itself into whatever best suited them, Alaric thought uncomfortably. It was a problem, yes, but it was her own. It wasn’t humanity’s fault she let herself become their farpoint. Even if it was just enough to keep her alive, what they offered was so much greater than the false love of the Q. 

A Q couldn’t love the same way they did. Even the creatures floating out in space, tendrils held together tenderly, loved so much stronger than them. It was so much more real than the Continuum, than her. 

And she could tell that Q got a taste of it too, because when he promised to return, there was no threat in his voice. It was fond. He was fond of them, and while he tried to teach her a lesson through a parable, he ended up getting caught in the fascination as well.

Our love is fake, isn’t it, Q? Don’t you feel it in their souls, in the warm blood running along their arms? They’re so much more real than we could ever hope to be. 

Don’t you want to feel real, even for a moment?

He left her behind again underneath the light that made the mortals think they were divine, and this time there was no lecture. He understood. In some twisted, vile way, he understood, and he never wanted to feel it again.