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Oh, Captain, My Captain! Part 10 (mF)
by Christine Faltz

"Father? Father?"

"Why are you calling me into your lover's lair?"

"Because we have things to say to one another."

"I already know what you want to know and want to say. The answer is no, of
course I wasn't going to kill you -- at least, not in the sense of taking
away your existence. I was simply going to reduce you to a mere
shape-shifter."

"You don't have enough faith in me? You were just going to strip away my
power, without any second chance. I could have used my Q abilities for far
worse. I was never irresponsible as a child, like many Q -- like you, as a
matter of fact."

"I thought Amanda explained everything to you."

"Amanda?" Ztlaf shouted.

"You just don't get it, do you? First, you raise me and supposedly prepare
me, never telling me that you're my father until I'm grown. 'Because the
Continuum made it a condition of your being protected.' You risked far more
saving me and the other shape-shifter children. You denied me knowledge of
my past, simply to make your life easier. Are you ashamed of me? Perhaps you
still view me as a mistake, a disgraceful result of a moment of altruistic
weakness."

"Oh, don't try to analyze me, you half-breed brat!"

Picard's chair flew across the room and smashed into Q's human form.

"You *do* hate me. Maybe you should just kill me! Go ahead, Almighty Father.
You blessed me with your ability to create, now how about a demonstration of
your ability to destroy? I'm *yours* after all, right? So you own me; dispose
of me. Make your life easier."

Ztlaf sobbed, her human form shaking.

"You used the Continuum as a shield. You didn't want to admit to having
coupled with an 'insect race' -- that phrase of which you are so fond. I've
heard you denigrate species after species."

"My dear, throwing objects at me is terribly futile."

"It may be futile, but it makes me feel better."

"Does it?"

Q walked over to her, smiling, his brown eyes twinkling with mockery.

"You -- you bastard!"

Ztlaf kicked him in the groin and slammed her right fist into his throat.

"My dear, you are in a much better position to claim that dirty title. And,
if you haven't noticed, Amanda isn't hear to toss me to the floor."

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH! I'm yours, damn it. I'm your daughter."

Amanda appeared beside Ztlaf and wrapped her in her arms.

"You really can be so cruel," she told Q, in a frequency Ztlaf was incapable
of hearing.

"Don't you understand why she is so upset? You play head games with her. When
you told her, finally, that you were her father, she couldn't cope with it.
You should have told her much sooner, the hell with the Continuum. Since when
did you hold It in such high regard? You always think you're right, and damn
the consequences. Ztlaf is somewhat correct. Why won't you admit it, if not
to her, then to yourself? You are a little ashamed. But more than that, you
know you made the wrong choices with respect to your daughter."

"She didn't leave because she hated the idea of me as her father? She left
because -- oh, why do I have to talk about this with you? You're younger than
she is, for My sake."

"Because you have to acknowledge it. She was wholly unaware that you were her
father until she was grown. To her, you were her spiritual and intellectual
leader. You protected her from those in the Continuum who wanted her
abandoned. You always ignored her queries to know what had happened to her Q
father. What happened to her was natural. How do you think it is for her to
face you, when you know so much? You can read her every thought; she can't
read yours. So all she is aware of is that you know what she thought about
you. She has no idea of the extent of your regret. And to add insult to
injury, you made that remark suggesting she think about the similarities
between her desire for your love and her desire for Picard's. Had to throw
in another cut."

"Oh, stop it; you're so cynical for one so impossibly young."

"Damn it! Look at it from her point of view for a change! Here, I'll make you
look."

Q saw everything as if it were happening in the present, right before him.
His daughter Ztlaf avoiding him whenever he looked for her, ignoring his
angry calls for her. She had just reached formal adulthood, where her
abilities were fully bestowed; her training theoretically complete. She
began requesting another mentor. Q knew why; he had known for some time,
but part of him found it amusing, another part found it gave him a sense
of power even he found astonishingly delicious. Of course, he felt ashamed
as well, and knew that he only had himself to blame. He remembered the
first time he saw what had happened. He was calling for Ztlaf, and he knew
where she was, but she had to respond when called, by him or by any of
those in the Continuum; it was the cardinal Rule. As he approached, he
connected with her mind in an attempt to gauge how best to deal with her
disobedience.

The images were sharp and shockingly intense. Ztlaf's mental energies were
focused on one point as she molded her autoerotic fantasy. This was something
all Q did, fairly frequently. Q masturbation was an intense self-indulgence;
it took all of one's energy. He came upon her thoughts and whirled in mental
alarm. Her erotic images centered around him: his eyes, his mental aura, his
energies. Because she was only half-Q, the fantasies were somewhat crude --
dealing more with sensuality in the physical realm rather than the mental. He
remembered snapping away from her, not wanting her to feel the connection.
But it was too late. She had noticed, and the mental retreat she made left
her violently ill for months, after which she had disappeared. She had
searched the galaxies feverishly, obsessively. She had run from the mental
whip he had lashed across her energy just before he disconnected. She had
run, the statement ringing over and over in her mind, in her being. Hot guilt
and sheer terror dogged her as she searched for solace. The words, again and
again;

"STOP THAT! DON'T DO THAT, ZTLAF! I'M YOUR FATHER! I AM YOUR FATHER!"

* * *

"I thought you said there were thirty shape-shifters scattered about,
Captain."

"Yes. Six live on a planet in the Gamma quadrant, together in a
self-sustaining commune. They have produced fifteen children amongst
themselves. They are the only ones who are aware they are not alone. Ztlaf,
of course, knows, but she is not really one of them, because she is half-Q."

"You tell me you think they are preparing you for something."

"Yes, Will, I am sure of it; Ztlaf confirmed that much. But as is usual,
they can't give away too much."

"It certainly is intriguing. How much should we tell Starfleet? The
little revelation they forced on you isn't exactly accepted as a means of
communicating profundities."

"I will prepare a thorough, somewhat distorted report, Number One."

* * *

Data accessed his internal schedule and decided that because he did not have
to report for duty for seven hours, he would prepare himself for a dream
sequence. Laurene slept peacefully as he carried her to his bunk and covered
her. He would dream standing; it made no difference to him. Data ran a quick
diagnostic of his systems and prepared the dream subroutine he had discovered
only a short time ago.

* * *

"You may call me Laurene. You may call me Laurene. You may call me Laurene."

Ensign Trinn's voice echoed eerily. Data saw himself entering her roughly.
Suddenly, a smile crept to his lips, and his hand slapped Laurene across
the face. Her head lolled to one side; her hand snaking up to grasp at her
swollen cheek.

"I wanted you to feel *good*, Data," she said, her voice getting lower, in
both frequency and pitch.

"I wanted you to feel. If you could feel, Data, you would know what I want."

The voice kept deepening, and the persistent echo of "You may call me
Laurene" slowed, until the last syllable faded and...

"You may call me Lore... you may call me Lore..."

* * *

"You should have recognized it," Amanda said. "Part of you saw it coming, and
yes, part of you liked it."

"Shut your filthy mouth!"

Q turned into a ferocious-looking beast with yellowish-green fur, huge red
eyes and sharp, spiked teeth. His paws were huge and fell onto Amanda's
shoulders; Ztlaf was completely unaware.

"Oh, those antics don't scare me any more!" Amanda scoffed. "You always lash
out when the truth smacks you where it hurts most -- the equivalent of a
heart you hate to admit you possess. You know why Ztlaf searched for Picard
all those years. You told her about him. To her he symbolized all that was
good about you. She didn't start out looking for a lover; she set out to find
a man who would care for her, in whatever way, but one who could need her
emotionally, as you never appeared to. She knew of the risks, that we would
eventually find and sanction her. But you, not she, created the chain
reaction. You could have prevented it. We all know she was destined to play
a role in Picard's tutoring. But it happened too soon. And not only are you
annoyed that she brought about a premature reckoning with Picard; you are
jealous because he did not withhold anything from her. When you came to kill
her, or at least, that is what she thought -- it was the final betrayal.
Again, you allowed your fear, your mistake and your shame to hurt others to
protect your own ego. And you continue to hurt her. You tease her with that
display of caring earlier today, then you hit her with the sharpest wit you
have, in the most hurtful ways. She is more ideally Q than you; all of her
motives are noble; she has great perception and a clear conscience. Her only
mistake was allowing you to make her feel ashamed. You could have helped her
through it -- you could have found her easily enough and channeled her love
in a more constructive manner. But no, you were so horrified with what you
saw. It was your fault; you were everything to her -- her friend, her
confidant, her security, her teacher. She looked to you for guidance about
everything. How many times did she ask you about her father? How many times
did she cry at night, believing the Continuum was so ashamed of her existence
that no one would acknowledge her? And you knew all that. You have such a
generous heart; why couldn't you extend it to your daughter? She is the only
one of her kind in the universe. That is terribly alienating; believe me, I
know what it's like."

"Shut up; would you just go?"

Amanda acquiesced, leaving Ztlaf with a feeling of peace and strength.

"I'm -- sorry, Ztlaf," said Q, sitting beside her and taking her hand.

"I -- was -- wrong. I -- made a mistake. I can't take it back. Well, I could,
but it would take a lot of work to get the universe back in order again."

Ztlaf turned to him, calmly but angrily.

"You allowed me to -- think about you like that, to believe that you were in
love with me, and that that was the reason you took care of me. I felt so
special. The only explanation was that you loved me; you didn't take that
kind of interest in Amanda. You spoke many times for me, always defending me
at Continuum meetings. The looks you got, and I got. And worse than you
knowing, *they* all knew. They were all privy to the big joke -- Ztlaf wants
Daddy!"

Q flinched and blinked rapidly a few times.

"I imagine -- that felt -- humiliating."

"You don't have to imagine it. You know what I've felt, what I've been
through. Fine. It happened. Even improving my insignificant past would screw
up the universal order of things. I suppose I should be flattered. But even
now you seem to take great joy in hurting me."

"I do not want to hurt you, Ztlaf," Q said quietly.

"You do a fantastic job of doing so, however."

"I am omnipotent; I'm not perfect."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Ztlaf.

"All right. I love you."

* * *

"Lore!"

"Well, my dear brother, Data! So sad that the chip that would open the
world of emotion to you was destroyed. Didn't even risk trying it, did you,
brother? I didn't know an unfeeling hunk of junk such as yourself could be
such a coward!"

"I did not want to risk the possibility that I would acquire -- negative
emotions such as yours. I did not want to risk losing my conscience for the
sake of gaining ambition at the expense of others, particularly my friends."

"oh, how perfectly pseudo-human of you, dear brother! But don't you miss the
feelings you had in the short time you were with me? Remember how it felt
when I left you with those young Borg. You'll never feel that way again,
Data. I was the one who could have made you enjoy the little encounter you
just had. Then you could have *enjoyed* it. Guess what, dear brother? She
would have liked it even more if you had responded to her. But you'll never
be able to feel sexual pleasure again, will you? Remember how you begged me,
Data, to give you feelings again when you were getting out of control and
getting sentimental about your disgustingly inferior humanoid friends? And
again, Data, I invite you to remember the feeling of sensuality, of sexual
arousal. Not any more; you're just the Enterprise's sex toy. Let's have a go
at the machine, shall we?"

Lore's laughter filled Data's head. Suddenly, Data experienced an odd
sensation. His face felt warm; his artificial pulse quickened; his jaw set
and his fists clenched. He felt that feeling again, the first one he had
ever experienced -- anger.

"I bring you a gift, dear Data. I want you to feel one last time, to ensure
that you don't forget me so easily. I wouldn't want you to forget that you
killed your own dear brother, the only other android. What would our father
say?"

"I think Dr. Soong would recognize the necessity of your disassembling."

"Data, you are so naive. A parent loves its child unconditionally. The worst
faults can be forgiven a child. It would break Dr. Soong's heart to know that
you are the one responsible for my death."

Data tried to end the dream subroutine, but he couldn't. His attempts to run
diagnostics failed. He was trapped, his brother's voice echoing in his head,
Lore's face sometimes disappearing and reappearing as the peaceful, smiling
face of Laurene.

"You'll never feel that way again," Lore guffawed, winking.

"Data," Lore's voice screeched in a sarcastic imitation of Laurene's, "Data,
the first thing I want you to do is take me by force."

Data felt the sensation of anger again. He saw himself stand and walk towards
Lore. Data punched Lore, and the face before Data immediately changed to
Laurene's. Data thought that it was a trick; Lore was trying to make him
angry. The sensation intensified.

Data lunged and grabbed Lore by one arm, dragging him to a bunk -- his bunk?
Yes, this was his room on the Enterprise; Spot was nowhere to be seen. Data
punched Lore again, and Laurene's voice cried, "No! Stop!" Data grappled with
Lore. They wrestled for long moments. Data was confused; Lore's hard, cyborg
form became soft and supple, Laurene's firm breasts heaved in her attempts to
extricate herself.

"No! Stop! Don't rape me!"

"Come and get me, brother dear. You're not getting angry, are you?"

Data tore at Lore's clothing. His hands felt a woman's breasts; he grabbed
at one roughly and fastened his mouth firmly around the other, sinking his
teeth into the warm flesh. Laurene's scream and Lore's jarring mirth spun
in Data's mind. Data forced himself to focus on Lore. Lore's body reappeared
beneath him, his face crimson with laughter. Suddenly, hatred welled up
inside Data -- at least, this must be hatred -- or jealousy, or both. Data
looked into Lore's eyes -- so full of feeling -- bad feeling, but feeling
nonetheless. This was the brother who had tried to kill Wesley, the brother
who had sent the Borg after the Enterprise. This was the brother who brought
the crystalline entity close enough so that it found Federation settlers
more easily, destroying whole colonies and many lives. This brother had used
Data's desire to become human against him. He had fed him with negative
emotions, and blackmailed him by using the new experiences to mold Data into
a weapon against the Federation, against the Captain and Geordi. Data rammed
his elbow into Lore's stomach and wrenched Lore's arms above his head,
pinning them there. He spun Lore onto his stomach, resulting in a sharp,
cracking sound as Lore's "wrists" broke. How could that be? That could not...
Data's rational musings left him as the dark feeling rushed at him again
through Lore's laughter.

"You can't hurt me, Data; I'm dead! You killed me, Data. You killed me."

Data felt an odd sensation. It felt hot and menacing, cruel and unyielding.

"No one wants to be raped. It's a terrible thing."

Laurene's voice echoed in his mind as he jabbed both elbows down hard on
Lore's back. He twisted out of his uniform and felt the pressure of his penis
pressing against Lore's buttocks. Data heard a strange sound as he plunged
inside Lore. Lore was screaming, but there was something else. Data realized
he was laughing.

* * *

"Mom, I'm going to the holodeck for a bit," Wesley said.

"All right, Wes. But don't be too late."

"Yes, Mom," Wes said grumpily.

He hurried to Holodeck 3, checked that it was not in use and entered. He was
extremely restless; his young, eager, seemingly omnipresent erection seemed
to scream for release. He stripped, calling, "Computer, run Wesley Crusher,
Program LT-2."

A lovely Betazed spring day formed before Wesley. Unfamiliar trees fringed a
small lake. Wesley waded into the cool water and knelt, the shock of the cold
easing his erection somewhat. The fire still burned inside him. He felt a tug
at his ankle and Lwaxana Troi -- a holodeck simulation of Lwaxana Troi --
burst through the water's surface, her mouth closing over Wesley's
half-erection. Wesley panted and gripped her shoulders, his body tensing with
pain. He wanted to make love to her, wanted to know just how sensual she
could be. Her sensuality was intoxicating; she seemed to tease them all with
it whenever she visited. He was ashamed of this need for her; she was so much
older, so much more experienced. She wasn't even his type; he couldn't
imagine that they shared any common interests. He just wanted her; that was
the whole of it. Some potential, he thought somberly, thinking of all that he
had been told by his mentors, both at Starfleet and on other worlds. Even he,
the supposedly gifted, brilliant Wesley Crusher, could hunger for something
as primitive as empty sex. At least he loved Junisto as a friend; they had
shared so much and would continue to do so, no matter whether their liaison
continued. But this desire? Where had it come from; what was it that drew him
so often to this holodeck program, both on and off the Enterprise? When he
masturbated lately, it was always her -- Lwaxana Troi, her smiling, teasing
eyes. He imagined her hands would be slow, sensual and cool, her tongue
well-used to deep, exploring kisses. He imagined that though she might not
be as agile as a young lover, she would be able to give him what no other
could she could read his mind. Wesley shivered with the thought. Could she
read his mind from a distance? Could she, wherever she was now, read him?

"Yes, my dear, but for goodness sake, stop feeling ashamed of yourself."

Wesley spun, then dropped to hands and knees, hiding himself beneath the
water. His mouth went dry. He stared at her, then rolled his eyes this way
and that. His face burned hotter than he'd ever felt it; his heart hammered
within him. His head swam with shame and he was sick with embarrassment.

"Now, now, dear, it's perfectly natural. Have you any idea how many young
men your age have thought such things about me?"

Lwaxana stared at her likeness behind him.

"Well, I must say, I like your vision of me very much. I'm not quite as firm,
but I'm sure you won't mind."

She lifted his face to look at him. He swallowed, trying to keep his voice
steady.

"Mrs. Troi, this is just -- idle fantasy; I meant no offense. But you know,
I came here to be alone -- for privacy. You weren't supposed to -- you -- I
thought --"

"Oh, come now, Wesley; we all know how smart you are. You know that my
daughter Deanna can sense the mood of all who are on the Enterprise, and can
at times sense the emotions of those communicating with the Enterprise. I am
full-blooded Betazed. I am a telepath, not an empath. Besides, dear, I'm very
flattered. It's not easy impressing handsome young men such as yourself at my
age."

"But you don't understand, Mrs. Troi. I can't -- I mean, what would my mom
think? I could never face her. And Counselor Troi. I was content with my
holodeck program. It's really unfair of you to do this to me. You know how
embarrassing this is for me."

"Yes, Wesley, I am aware of that. But regardless of whether I showed up, you
would have kept right on feeling guilty and ashamed. And for what? No one has
to know. I am no longer capable of becoming pregnant, but I'm not so ancient,
my dear boy, that I am willing to pass up opportunities such as this? You're
a very attractive young man, and very -- imaginative."

Wesley flushed brilliantly again.

"Oh, come, come, stop that now."

Lwaxana knelt before him and brought him into her arms. She was wearing a
translucent robe, which fell off her shoulders into the water. Wesley was
surprised at how good she looked naked.

"Oh, I keep myself well, my dear, so as not to disappoint interesting young
men such as yourself."

"Please, don't do that."

"Do what? Read you? Oh, that's exactly what you want me to do. Even now, you
can't help bringing up your thoughts about me, can you?"

Part of him was angry at her merciless teasing, but another part of him was
excited at the prospect of finally receiving everything his mind wanted, the
instant it formed into a coherent thought.

Lwaxana began to kiss him, slowly bringing them down into the water. Wes
thought that he had asked the computer for cool water; it was not so cool
any more. They lay on the sandy bottom, the movement of their bodies sending
ripples across the water. Lwaxana was very passionate, Wesley noticed. She
moved her mouth rapidly about him, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his lips,
his neck, his cheeks again, his eyes. She stopped occasionally to kiss him
deeply; her hands ran up and down the length of his body, sending shivers of
excitement dancing about on his skin. His erection ached with need, and
Lwaxana's hand closed about him, sliding up and down the shaft in a brisk,
tight grip. He gasped, gripping her to him. pressing his lips to her neck.
She drew him up against her, so that his back was to her and she wrapped her
arms around him and used one hand to knead his testicles and the other to
tease his penis with alternating strokes and squeezes. She slid back on her
feet, until they were at the water's edge. She slipped from beneath him with
surprising dexterity and straddled his shoulders as his thoughts caressed her
mind with their ache for her scent and her taste. He buried his tongue inside
her, his hands squeezing her thighs with urgency. She had never had this
particular technique performed quite this way, and she was amused. She tried
to keep from smiling, while also attempting to keep her balance. Her legs
trembled with the sensation. She looked down into his face; they still held
a glint of fear and shock. She felt a familiar desire calling to her; she was
well-acquainted with this one. She moved nimbly and slid onto him, pumping
herself rhythmically against him. Her hands sought his chest and she massaged
it with just the right amount of pressure. She moved on top of him, in a
semicircular motion, squeezing her vagina tight against his hardness. He
grunted; she knew he would come soon. She saw his need and flipped
effortlessly onto her back, pulling him along with her. Wesley, in the frenzy
of an impending orgasm, grasped Lwaxana's arms tightly and thrust them to the
sandy shore. He lay tightly against her, his legs spreading hers further. He
drove himself the last few times with fast, hard plunges, remembering to move
himself so that he rubbed against her clitoris with each thrust. She gasped
beneath him; her body shuddered. That was all it took; the look on her face,
the feel of her deriving pleasure from his body; the heat in his own body --
Wesley gritted his teeth against the cry that tried to force itself between
his lips. His body spasmed and he came, filling her body with his semen and
her mind with his own pleasure.

    

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