Chapter Text
Our story begins as most stories do: set in a specific time and place. Not that neither of those things matter much for the Q Continuum, but the vastly inferior bipedal species known as mankind does value such parameters. If any of my readers should be part of any lowly species who cares about it, they would be satisfied to know that we find ourselves on stardate 50518.6, somewhere deep in the Delta Quadrant.
But not for long.
You see, I must confess this story begins because I got tired of the usual flirting between Kathryn Janeway—or Kathy, for her friends and omnipotent beings—and her First Officer, Chuckles.
“But the highlight of the evening was definitely Kathryn Janeway portraying the Dying Swan,” Chuckles was saying, as Kathy laughed and put her feet up in her chair—quite an unbecoming posture for a Starfleet captain to adopt while piloting a shuttle, if you ask me.
“I learned that dance when I was six years old. I assure you, it was the hit of the Beginning Ballet class.”
“I don't doubt it. If Neelix has another talent night I hope you reprise it.”
“Oh, no. Not until certain other people take their turn. The ship's First Officer for instance.” As you can observe, the flirting was quite blatant by both parties involved. As it always was. As it always would be.
“Me? Get up in front of people and perform? I don't think so.”
“Come on, Chakotay, there must be some talent you have that people would enjoy”, Kathy continued, and it was this phrase that sparked an idea in my omniscient head. Surely, there must be something Chuckles could do that people would enjoy. Or at least that omnipotent beings would. And, of course, Kathy should be there too. “Maybe I could stand with an apple on my head and you could phaser it off”, the flirting continued, but the decision was made.
“Sounds great. If I miss, I get to be Captain”, the reply was interrupted by the rocking of the shuttle. Enough with the flirting. “Atmospheric turbulence. We might be in for a rough landing”.
Truer words were never spoken. Only, they would not land on the planet they were orbiting.
After all, it wasn’t the moment for Kathryn Janeway to simply die and keep dying—that might happen at a later time, depending on whatever decision I might reach regarding their fate. In truth, it all depended on them. For the moment, I was just saving them from a rather unpleasant experience.
And so, as the white light enveloped them, Kathryn Janeway thought they were still in the middle of an ionic storm, aboard one of their silly shuttles, trying not to crash in their landing.
The surprise was, understandingly so, quite big when the light dissipated and all of their surroundings became visible. They were foreign. And yet, known, somehow. There was a familiarity to them that rendered both, the Captain and her First Officer, speechless. Could it be? Was this Earth?
It should be noted that, with their initial shock, neither of them noticed that their shuttle was gone, and it took them a couple of seconds to become aware of the clothes they were wearing.
“Chakotay, your uniform”, were the only words that came out of Kathy’s mouth and, when she saw Chuckles’ eyes widen in return, she looked down, only to see that her uniform was also nowhere to be found.
“What’s going on?”
“I have no idea”.
They were sitting on the ground, just in the same postures they had while on the shuttle, and they decided they needed to explore their surroundings to try and figure out the mystery. Thus, they hopped to their feet. Well, at least one of them did. Kathy’s dress, for lack of better words, was bulky. But such was the fashion in the late 1800s for women; the Q Continuum had no hand in those designs. The ribbed corset, the bustle at her lower back, the skirt, and the polonaise on top, all covered by the overcoat—for it was a crisp November morning—only served to emphasize the rigidity of her attire, that made it quite hard to move. But, despite the bulky business, Kathryn looked quite elegant in the maroon walking dress she was now wearing.
Chuckles extended his hand to help her get up, which she accepted with a bit of a fuss, perhaps with some embarrassment from not being able to do such a simple thing as standing up on her own.
“Where the hell are we?” she said, allowing some anger to lace her question.
“I don’t know. It’s quite cold, though”, he replied, rubbing his hands to warm them.
“Agreed”.
Yes: it was cold. As it’s already been established, it was November, after all, and the prairie where they found themselves was covered in frost. This was unfortunate, for it might ruin Kathy’s beautiful Parisian boots. However, in terms of entertainment, cold was an added challenge, an interesting test of character; so I hope the reader excuses the decision to send them to such a season.
“There seems to be a church over there”, the big oaf pointed out, which was technically a lie, for it was a hermitage, not a church.
It seems such considerations were not important for Kathy, who nodded and started leading the way. They didn’t speak for a few moments, deeply immersed in thoughts of where they were and what might have happened to them.
“Do you…” suddenly, it seemed for Kathy that saying her suspicions out loud might be a bad idea. She stopped dead in her tracks.
“Do I…?” Of course, Chuckles wouldn’t let the matter simply drop.
“…think this is Earth?”
There, she said it and nothing happened. No big curse descended upon them—they were (relatively) safe.
“Well, looking at how we’re dressed, I’d say that if we’re back on Earth, we’re definitely not in the 24th century”.
“That much I gathered. Do you think this could be another hallucination, like what the Caretaker did to communicate with us?”
“It’s possible”.
“Whatever it is, we might find some answers here”, Kathy said, approaching the hermitage’s stairs.
“Let’s hope we do”.
The door creaked as it opened, and the handful of people who were praying inside turned their heads to look at them. Kathy smiled shyly, and Chuckles nodded his head in greeting.
“Should we ask someone where we are?” the First Officer whispered into the Captain’s ears.
“They all seem quite focused in prayer. I don’t know if we should disturb them”.
They walked slowly towards one of the furthest pews, so that they could speak freely without annoying anybody.
“We can wait until somebody finishes and then ask them”.
“And what do you suggest we ask them? Where we are? What year it is? How to get back to our starship?”
“Captain, we definitely need some answers. We don’t know if this is an illusion or not—we don’t know who these people are. For all we know, they might have the answers we need. So I’d say, yes: we ask them all those things, and we hope they can tell us”.
Kathy looked around, assessing the situation, and finally conceded: “Fine. But let’s keep considerations about the Prime Directive on our minds. For all we know, these people know nothing about Voyager or starships”.
“That is quite correct, my dear Kathy”.
“Q!!!”
An intervention couldn’t be avoided. Observing was fun, but teasing was more fulfilling. As I moved from the statue in the altar of the wall and materialized in front of them, I had to take pleasure in the ire in Kathryn’s eyes.
“What did you do this time?” Chuckles asked, while Kathy stood up and pointed a finger at me. Quite threateningly.
“Of course it had to be you!!!”
“Captain, don’t yell: they might hear us”.
“Oh, Chuckles, I froze everyone but you. Look around. You can yell at me as much as your pathetic little hearts want”.
“Great, because what I want to say to you cannot just be whispered. Get us back to Voyager. NOW!”
“Tss, tss, tss. Kathy, Kathy, Kathy. Your impetuousness is always a turn on, but someday it might be your downfall”.
She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, as if gathering strength to deal with a Q.
“Where are we, Q?” the Commander asked, wanting to give Kathy time to compose herself. “And when?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I thought you liked archeological puzzles, Chuckles. And you, Kathy, don’t you use your precious hours on the holodeck playing a Victorian governess?”
“So we are on Earth. In the 19th century?”
“Bingo! Just… a bit further south than your usual British holoprograms…”
“Just tell us where”.
“Now, what would be the fun in that? You’ll have to find out”.
But Kathy was having none of this. Much more important for her to know when and where I had sent them was to know the reason why I had sent them there.
“What do you want? Why did you bring us here?”
She was practically vibrating form anger. It was quite a view.
“I just want what I’ve always wanted, Kathy. To be entertained. And, since I saw you so well composed in the Civil War representation I created for you, so beautiful in that southern belle dress… I thought the 19th century suits you, Kathy”.
“You sent us here purely for entertaining purposes?”
“I don’t expect any less from my son’s godmother”.
“We don’t have time for this, Q. Bring us back to Voyager”.
“Time… what a concept, huh? Time is inconsequential, Kathy. You don’t need to worry: your precious little tin-can you call a ship won’t even notice a second has passed since I took you from your shuttle”.
The exasperation both humans felt was almost tangible. It could almost be tasted, and it was sour and bitter. My favorite flavors.
“Q, we have more important things to do than entertain you”, Chuckles said while Kathy nodded in agreement.
“That’s too bad, because I’ll keep you here until you do what I want”.
“And what exactly do you want?”
“That’s the fun: finding out”.
A snap of fingers left them alone, with the people inside the hermitage back in prayer.
This would indeed be entertaining.