The bar was indeed teeming with excitement this evening. Over at the table, Rhade continued feeding his drunken stupor, stopping every once in a while to let out a loud burp and giving Dylan his most innocent smile whenever the annoyed captain would turn around from the bar to glare at him. As not to encourage Rhade any further, Dylan instead turned his attention to Harper, who was his usual talkative self. On and on he droned about something or another. To be quite honest, Dylan wasn’t entirely listening to him, partly due to the fact that the whiskey was starting to take effect on his senses. It was only after he felt the sharp poke of a finger in his back that he realized Beka and Doyle had returned.

“Hey, what’s with you anyway? I’ve been trying to get your attention since I walked into the bar!” Beka Valentine and Doyle slipped into the barstools on either side of Dylan. Immediately, Harper was there, pouring them all (and himself) another drink and listening for the news of the latest deal.

“Okay, so the deal is this. They will part with the minerals, but only in exchange for three Maru shipments of funny fruit.” Beka downed her shot of whiskey in one gulp and looked at Dylan, as if waiting for the obvious response.

Harper beat him to it. “That’s insane! The funny fruit is worth three times that much!”

“Well, that’s the deal…take it or leave it.” Beka tapped on her glass impatiently, waiting for Harper to pour her another shot. He ignored her.

“We’ll leave it…won’t we, Dylan? Dylan?? Hey boss…what’s the matter?”

As the three looked to him for a response, Dylan stared straight ahead of him into the mirror that was behind the bar, looking at his reflection. Suddenly, right before his eyes, the mirror’s image shimmered, in it’s place another visage appeared. It was of a man who looked strangely familiar. The man smiled at him from the mirror’s reflection, then disappeared again in a shimmer. No, it couldn’t be him…certainly not Beka’s uncle, Sid Barry! Dylan turned around quickly, but the only thing he saw was Rhade sitting at the table. Rhade, thinking Dylan was responding to yet another one of his burping escapades, raised his whiskey glass up and burped again, this time in a sort of obscene and disturbing harmony with the song playing on the Virgil Vox radio station. Unphased by his antics, Dylan turned back around quickly.

“Did you see that?” Dylan exclaimed in surprise and shock.

“Yeah, I know. Rhade has gotten really disgusting with his manners since Arkology.” Beka turned around and gave Rhade a glare, but the Nietzschean only winked and kissed at her. Rolling her eyes, Beka turned back around again, her face flushed in embarrassment and anger.

“No, not Rhade, Beka…the mirror!” This time it was Dylan’s face that was flushed. “Oh, never mind,” Dylan stated as he looked back down into his shot glass. “I am really losing it,” Dylan thought to himself.

“He’s drunk,” stated Doyle matter-of-factly. “We should get him home.”

“I’m fine, Rom…I mean, Doyle.” Dylan got up and half staggered over to where Rhade was sitting, still involved in his card game. The women that were previously flanking Rhade were now gone, and only a couple of Seefran traders remained at the table. In front of Rhade lay a large stack of bills, several gems, and a few flasks of precious water he had won from the previous group. Obviously, he was dealing nothing but winning hands this evening. But Dylan didn’t care…he had other things occupying his mind. Despite his obvious disdain for Rhade’s current behavior, he still considered him one of his closest friends – even if the Nietzschean still got all the women, and looked good in those leather pants of his.

“Rhade, I wanna play cards. Deal.” Rhade looked up at Dylan and started to give him a smirk, but after realizing he would have the upper hand due to Dylan’s alcohol consumption, the snarky Nietzschean proceeded to give him that innocent smile again.

“Sure thing…Captain Hunt. Have a seat.”

Rhade’s foot pushed on the chair across from him, and it unceremoniously scooted back from the table with a screech. Dylan winced – it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. Rhade chuckled softly, obviously pleased with himself. In yet another attempt to get Dylan’s goat, Rhade let out another burp as Dylan sat down at the table. After realizing, however, that Dylan was ignoring him, Rhade decided that this particular game was getting old. He dealt the cards in silence, but every now and then he let his boneblades rub against the grain of the table in an effort to elicit another wince from Dylan. This time it worked.

“Rhade, do you HAVE to do that?”

“Do what, Captain Hunt?”

“You know what, you miserable excuse for a Nietzschean! It’s no wonder you haven’t yet found a mate!”

Rhade stopped dealing and looked at Dylan. This time he was not smiling. His eyes narrowed, his face tightened, and his jaws clenched. Dylan knew that look far too well. “Uh oh, I think I’ve gone too far. I really wasn’t in the mood for a fight tonight," he thought. Before Dylan could speak or apologize, however, Rhade overturned the table and knocked him to the floor. Dylan, obviously reeling from too much whiskey, was no match for a genetically superior Nietzschean with a bad attitude. Immediately Rhade was on top of Dylan, preparing to pummel him senseless. But just as soon as Rhade lifted up his clenched fist to strike, a figure appeared out of thin air and held Rhade’s bony protrusions back from slicing into Dylan’s throat.

“Oh, this is just so adorable. Two grown men fighting over such petty childish antics!”

Rhade stopped, and the two of them looked up to see a rather ordinary looking man, of medium build, dressed in Seefran garb. Rhade saw nothing out of the ordinary, but at first glance of the man standing immediately above him, Dylan’s previous alcoholic stupor was immediately sobered. The man from the mirror…it was him!

“Uncle Sid?” Beka walked over to the stranger. “Is that really you?”

“Hey, kiddo. Yes, it’s me. Well, no, it’s not really your uncle Sid. But I’m much better, don’t you think?”

Beka appeared annoyed. Her uncle Sid was definitely up to his old tricks again. “If you’re not my uncle Sid, then who are you anyway?”

“Don’t you recognize an omnipotent one when you see him? I’m Q.”

Everyone looked at one another in confusion, then back at the stranger. Dylan was still lying on the floor, with Rhade on top of him. The more he lay there, the more Dylan realized how embarrassing this was becoming…and disturbing…especially since he had such a close look at Rhade’s tight leather pants. The envy was starting to build within him again, so he pushed the Nietzschean off him and stood up.

“Q Who?” Dylan’s eyes narrowed.

“No, not Q Who. Just Q.”

“Never heard of you.”

“Well, I’m shocked. Picard knew of me. Janeway knew of me. Sisko knew of me. Numerous countless others across nameless numberless galaxies have either known me, known of me, or wanted to know me. For I am the all knowing, all seeing, altogether matchless Q!”

“I know you.” Another figure entered the room from behind the bar where she had been previously watching, as she so often did, in silence.

“Ah, Trance Gemini, avatar of the sun. How HAVE you been, my dear?”

“I have seen better days.”

“Well, don’t worry, and have no fear. All will be better, for the Q is here!”
 

Back to Fanfics