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Chapter Text

Celeste stood perfectly still as the transporter disassembled her molecules. No matter how hard she tried to logic herself toward indifference, everything about the idea of her physical body disappearing sent her mind spiraling down into a deep pit of terror. Her fingernails involuntarily shifted into claws that dug into the hem of her uniform. Then, she could no longer dig her nails into anything.

The transporter is safer than the shuttle trip over here, she thought to herself over and over again. Despite her best efforts to repeat her calming mantra and tread water above the cavern of dread, her mind continued to race as her body fizzled, surrounded in constantly shifting bright and complex patterns of light that she wasn’t sure how she was perceiving without physical eyes or a brain.

As the light began to fade, Celeste felt the sharper, tingly pangs of being reassembled. She’d have to get used to the transporter, working on the Enterprise. She gritted her teeth, determined to force her way through the ordeal. The whole process lasted only a second or less, but it only takes a moment to inspire mortal terror.

“Are you alright, Officer?” Celeste could hear a man’s voice a few feet in front of her, concern tinging his otherwise calm, professional tone.

She winced inwardly at how ridiculous she must look to her new coworkers. She wasn’t sure if this was a fault of her own, or just a result of how her species had evolved, but the physical manifestations of her fear and most other emotions tended to be more difficult for her to mask than those in many other humanoids. This could be a problem in an organization like Starfleet that values a certain level of emotional detachment, but she also knew that they made accommodations where necessary. Still, Celeste couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as she pictured her willowy frame tense from fighting off fear, long feline ears pinned back against her teal shoulder-length hair and tail puffed up to twice its usual thickness.

The concept of standing out amongst her new mostly-human crew didn’t bother Celeste in and of itself. Although she looked similar enough to most humans if one squinted and didn’t look for too long, the more apparent catlike ears and tail mixed with the slight variances in bone structure, the sharp, darting way her body tended to move through space, and the occasional hints of fangs and claws came together to create a distinctly alien impression. Most communities she’d interacted with so far had seen their fair share of extraterrestrials and had met her odd appearance with a welcome mixture of awe and intrigue. It was a good conversation-starter, although Celeste preferred to steer the conversation toward other topics once the conversation got going.

She slowly opened her eyes, hoping her vertical pupils had gotten less dilated as her heart rate steadied. Celeste immediately recognized the two men waiting in front of the transporter. She was certain that the one who’d spoken was First Officer Riker, the taller of the two humans with a covering of brown fur on the bottom half of his face. No, Celeste reminded herself, not fur. Facial hair. Some humans naturally grew hair on their face, and some styled it according to their aesthetic preferences. Riker’s was kept short and neat, fitting for what she knew about the intensely dedicated First Officer.

“Yes Sir,” She stepped down to meet the two men, and took Riker’s hand in hers and flicked her ears into a polite upward position. She forced herself to make eye contact with the First Officer as she spoke, “I’m Celeste. Xenoanthropologist.”

She turned to shake the other man’s hand. “Captain Picard. There’s no shame in transporter anxiety,” His cool, reassuring tone was accented with something she couldn’t quite place. It certainly wasn’t an accent prevalent in the region surrounding Starfleet Headquarters like Riker’s was. “Those damn things make me a bit uncomfortable myself. Would you prefer I arrange shuttle travel for you when possible?”

Celeste could feel her skin heat up at the thought of inconveniencing the ship she hadn’t even started working on yet. She averted her eyes. “That’s ok! I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

The captain nodded. “Understood,” He began to walk out of the transporter room, gesturing for Riker and Celeste to follow him down the spacious, carpeted hallway. “Thank you for agreeing to transfer to the Enterprise. I’ve been looking to add a xenoanthropologist to our crew for quite some time. You’ve had quite the interesting career so far.”

Celeste smiled, trying to focus on the captain’s words instead of the Enterprise’s warm-toned, rounded architecture that didn’t seem particularly spatially efficient. She knew, however, that humans needed ample space and enrichment on their ships to maintain their mental health.

“No kidding,” Riker remarked, his comment bringing her back to the present conversation, “Suddenly appearing in Klingon dead space, knocking it out of the park at Starfleet Academy, only to graduate and disappear for years on end to study remote societies and facilitate peace talks. If you don’t mind me asking, what made you decide to finally settle down on a Galaxy Class starship?”

Celeste tore her eyes from the sleek computer interface on the hallway wall to study each man’s face. Although she’s already touched on her reasoning with the captain in her job interview, he watched her as expectantly as Riker did. However, Riker’s tone was laced with the slightest hint of suspicion that the captain hadn’t seemed to share. She pushed down the rising tide of anxiety, reminding herself that she had nothing to hide. It’s not like the captain was going to immediately fire her if his first officer didn’t like her answer, after all… Right?

Her ears flicked a few times, more to get out her anxious energy than as a subconscious physiological response to the question. “I would hardly consider life aboard a starship to be settling down, Commander,” she said, hoping her soft tone conveyed a nonchalance that she did not feel, “The freedom of performing independent studies for Starfleet was refreshing for a while, but working on your own for that long, even when people are the subject of your studies…” She trailed off, “I want to work with a team. Not to mention, the Enterprise has a phenomenal track record of discovering new civilizations.”

Picard chuckled, a sound Celeste had not expected to hear from him for some reason. “That, we do.”

Riker made a sound of affirmation. Celeste was never the best at reading human facial expressions or body language. Everything seemed to have a clear-cut meaning in the textbooks and flashcards she studied, but human nonverbal communication was far more nuanced and varied in person than it was on paper. She struggled to tell whether her answer satisfied the First Officer. Then again, she’d been certain that she’d bombed the interview with Captain Picard because of how terse he’d seemed, but he gave her the job afterward and expressed his excitement for working with her. She was going to have to study humans further to work with them effectively.

The Starfleet badge on the captain’s chest warbled. “Captain, our sensors are picking up an anomaly near the Hyperion star system,” A woman’s voice echoed from the badge, before continuing in a more trepidatious tone, “And also, I sense… a presence at the same location as the anomaly.”

Picard’s dark eyes narrowed, and he and Riker exchanged a wary look. The Captain tapped the badge. “What kind of presence, Councilor?”

“It appears intelligent and incredibly powerful. We’d have to get closer for me to pick up anything else.”

Celeste’s ears perked up and her slitted pupils dilated in excitement. A mysterious sentient presence in a star system previously believed to be empty? Thirty seconds aboard the Enterprise, and something interesting was already happening.

Riker raised an eyebrow at Celeste’s poorly-concealed excitement, but she also noticed the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement before his expression hardened. “We should be careful, Captain. Starfleet has investigated the Hyperion system before and never found any signs of life. We don’t know what this powerful, likely sentient presence’s intentions may be.”

Picard’s determination didn’t waver. “I agree, but we must know what’s out there,” He tapped his chest. “Understood, Councilor. Approach at subwarp speed and keep reverse thrusters at the ready just in case. I’ll head to the bridge to aid in the investigation.”

Celeste noticed that Riker’s shoulders relaxed slightly once Picard announced his additional precautions, but his posture remained fairly tense. Without missing a beat, Riker offered to take over her orientation.

Picard thanked his first officer, then addressed Celeste. “I apologize for the interruption. My office will be open after this mission if you have anything you would like to discuss with me.”

“No problem, Captain. Good luck with the mysterious presence,” Celeste tried to conceal her interest in the Captain’s mission. She’d secretly hoped that Picard would offer to bring her aboard the bridge to help with the situation, but she knew that she technically wasn’t allowed on any missions until her official onboarding process was finished. Celeste could be wrong, but Captain Picard didn’t strike her as the kind of person to bend the rules for frivolous reasons. Or most reasons, for that matter.

Riker laughed as Picard left.

“Is there something I missed when studying human humor?” Celeste asked. Knowing human humor, she probably was missing something. No matter how hard she studied the setups and mechanisms behind things humans found funny, it never seemed like she knew enough.

Riker laughed some more. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Some of the things we find funny are pretty difficult to explain.”

Celeste nodded emphatically, her blue-green hair and ears bobbing up and down. “You’re telling me! Your humor is even more nuanced and varied than your nonverbal communication. I apologize, I thought I was prepared to seamlessly socialize with a human crew, but it looks like I need to study you some more first,” She cast her eyes down at the wine-colored carpet that covered all of the Enterprise’s hallways that she’d seen so far, “Also, I’m sorry you’re missing out on the investigation.”

The First Officer shrugged. “We run into mysterious readings like that at least once a week. However,” He turned around, leading the way down the hall, “It’s not every day you get to show your new crew member around the Enterprise for the first time.”

Relief washed over Celeste as she followed Riker down the hall. She wasn’t sure if he was still suspicious about her past, but if he was, he wasn’t letting his feelings affect the way he treated her. It was a level of accommodating professionalism she would only expect from a career Starfleet officer.

After a short turbolift ride, they reached a windowless room that was mostly empty, apart from a standing desk in one corner, a few shelves on the opposite wall, a small potted plant with pointed leaves, and a singular silver crate emblazoned with the United Federation of Planets logo. Unlike the immaculate but lived-in feel of the transporter room and hallways, this room felt clean and untouched to the point of sterility. Celeste absent-mindedly approached the crate and started to dig around inside.

Riker frowned and crossed his arms as he took in his surroundings. “I know it’s not ideal, but this old storage room was the only place we could squeeze in an office for you. The plant was Deanna-- Counselor Troi’s idea, although we weren’t sure if you actually needed…” He trailed off at the sight of Celeste crouched at a very odd angle and rifling through the crate, the tips of her triangular blue-green ears sticking out of the box. Up until this point, she had been careful to keep her mannerisms as human-like as possible, but the intensity with which she dug through the box and the sharpness of her movements dropped all pretense of Starfleet respectability. “What are you doing?”

Celeste was making quiet, high-pitched chittering noises to herself, oblivious to her coworker’s confusion. She pulled out a glowing blue polyhedral die about the size of a grapefruit, pupils dilating as she gazed into it and tossed it from hand to hand. She then gently placed it on the corner of her empty desk, where it bobbed up and down in the air a couple of times before settling a few inches above the desk’s surface. She grinned as it bathed the room in an ambient blue light. “I think I can make this work.”

Riker furrowed his brow at the floating blue artifact. “I’m glad the uhhh… desk light… helps,” he paused to stare at it for a moment before shaking his head, “What is that thing?”

A thoughtful trill rose up from Celeste’s throat. “I’m still trying to crack that one, to be honest. When I work in one place for a while, I like to play local games with the community members. It helps me get to know people in an informal setting, as well as better understand societal rules and structure to some extent. The communities I work with often give me game sets or pieces when I leave as thank-you gifts,” Her expression softened as she moved the 20-sided die around in the air.

“I see,” said Riker. Celeste noticed him sneak a glance into the open silver crate at her game collection before his eyes returned to the blue die, “So that light belongs to a game?”

Celeste batted the die across the room, and the two coworkers watched it bounce around the walls, always floating a few inches away from any nearby surfaces as if it were repelled by a magnetic force. As Celeste spoke, her pupils followed the die’s trajectory around the room, her feline tail flicking involuntarily. “Yes and no. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it. The game is human in origin, although lots of other species have adopted and altered it since its conception. Have you heard of Dungeons and Dragons, Commander?”

Riker shook his head. “Can’t say I have. Does it involve taking calculated risks or bluffing people like poker?”

Celeste laughed. She leaned on the edge of her desk. “Not reall- wait. You know what?” She snatched the die out of the air, “It totally does! Storytelling and role-play mostly, but these dice help determine the outcomes of certain actions. I hadn’t thought to compare it to poker.”

Riker began to lead her out of her office. “Then I’d love to try it at some point.”

“You like to gamble, then,” Observed Celeste as they headed into a large, dimly lit room filled with soft chatter and music. Tables lined the large windows and dotted the rest of the room, occupied with uniformed officers talking and eating and playing a few lively games. Celeste briefly scanned the games for 20-sided dice before taking in the rest of the room. A tall dark-skinned woman dressed head to toe in a dazzling gold color smiled to herself as she shook a cocktail mixer behind a bar in the center of the room. Her eyes met Riker’s, and her smile widened and she waved Riker and Celeste over.

Riker ordered two glasses of “the usual” and pulled a chair out at the bar for Celeste.

The woman nodded in approval. “You must be Celeste. I see our First Officer still knows how to use his gentlemanly charm to welcome newcomers. The name’s Guinan.”

Celeste shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Guinan. Commander Riker has been kind and accommodating.”

Riker shrugged. “I’m doing my best. The Captain was supposed to show her around, but something came up.”

Guinan hummed thoughtfully as she began mixing colorful liquids into two glasses. “What’s it this time? Ghost ship distress signal, collapsing planet core, evil parallel universe escaping from a dimensional rift?” Her face twisted into a grimace, “Don’t tell me it’s Q. If he gives you any more trouble, I may just have to get involved.”

Celeste’s ears perked up. “Right, the Enterprise has had quite a few run-ins with the Q Continuum! Way more than is statistically likely. Is there any reason they could be targeting you?”

Riker choked on his drink.

Guinan’s eye twitched, but calmed down as she slid a glass of bright green liquid over to Celeste. The new officer gave it a little sniff. It smelled fresh, with the slightest hint of mint and lemongrass. She took a sip as Guinan shook her head and muttered, “Besides being so obsessed with himself that he doesn’t care how his actions affect others? No idea,” She cleared her throat, “Let’s not think about Q any more than we have to. You probably have some pretty interesting stories from your xenoanthropology work.”

Celeste ran a hand through her blue-green hair. “I would imagine some of my experiences may interest some people. To be honest, I think every interaction is interesting, but I know humans don’t usually enjoy listening to me ramble, so I’ll need some time to sort through everything and get back to you.”

Guinan’s eyebrows raised slightly as Celeste called her a human, but Celeste did not connect the gesture to its meaning.

Riker downed the rest of his glass of glowing mint-green liquid in a single swig. “Guinan’s an exception.”

The woman nodded, her round golden hat staying perfectly secure with the movement. Celeste felt her shoulders relax at the sight of Guinan’s warm smile, and only then had she realized how tense she was before the bartender’s small act of reassurance. “Chat with me anytime,” Said Guinan, “I love listening to people’s stories, long and rambling or not. But for now, I think Riker has a tour to finish, don’t you, Commander?”

Riker sighed, downed a second drink, and rose from the bar. “You’re right. Sitting around and chatting won’t help get you familiar with the Enterprise,” he paused to pull out Celeste’s chair, “At least, not her layout. Come on, I’ll show you where the warp core is.”

Chapter Text

Riker sighed, downed a second drink, and rose from the bar. “You’re right. Sitting around and chatting won’t help familiarize you with the Enterprise,” he paused to pull out Celeste’s chair, “At least, not her layout. Come on, I’ll show you where the warp core is.”

Celeste waved to Guinan on the way out, feeling about as reluctant to leave the bar as Riker seemed to be. She longed to stay and hang out with Guinan, and of course study the games some of the officers were playing along the windows and watch the bright pinpoints of starlight glide past them through the wide windows, but she’d have to save that for another time.

After a few more twists and turns and explanations, Riker stopped at a room full of pulsating light and a stack of flickering, humming rings that nearly reached the ceiling at the center. Celeste recognized the Enterprise’s warp core. Her eyes lit up, “So this is what Galaxy Class Starship warp cores look like up close,” she whispered in awe. She was secretly grateful that she didn’t have to spend much time in a room with so many bright blinking lights and persistent humming sounds. The low, rhythmic thrumming gnawed at the back of her brain, and something about the frequency sent waves of irritation through her body that she tried to shake off. Her ears pinned themselves to the back of her head.

“That’s it, all right. I’m sure you’re familiar enough with how it functions to be of help if needed, but don’t be afraid to ask one of the engineers for help if you need-” he paused, noticing another human hard at work over an open panel in the corner of the room. “Oh perfect, here’s our Chief Engineer, Geordi LaForge, he knows way more about how this works than I do.”

The other human paused what he was doing when he heard his name and glanced up from the jumble of electronics, but his hands continued working as he spoke, “Oh hey Riker, I was really focused on re-routing this antimatter connectivity matrix, sorry I didn’t notice you walk in sooner,” He turned to Celeste, his expression growing pained. He tapped a button on the metallic contraption covering his eyes, and his face broke out into a warm smile again, “You must be Celeste! I had to adjust my VISOR settings a little, you’re emitting a lot of infrared light. Nice to meet you!” He held out a hand.

Celeste’s ears perked up as she took his hand, “Nice to meet you too, Lieutenant! I thought human vision was limited to light wavelengths between 1000 nm and 0.01 cm.”

“Really specific, but true,” Riker remarked.

Geordi nodded, tapping the device on his face. “My VISOR helps me see the entire spectrum of light, which is not what humans usually see, so I understand your confusion. You’re our new Xenoanthropologist, right?”

“Yes! Although it’s not my area of expertise, it’s very interesting to see a real functioning Galaxy Class warp core. The diagrams don’t do it justice. Sorry about the light, by the way. We know next to nothing about my species’s biology, so I’m figuring some stuff out as I go. I’ll try to find a way to be less bright,” Celeste tried to cover her skin with her uniform as much as possible, but only so much could be accomplished by pulling up her knee-high socks and tucking her arms beneath her back, “I apologize if this is an inappropriate question, but is it common for humans to require a VISOR?” She thought back to her time at the Academy, remembering a handful of cybernetic implants, but nothing like the contraption the Chief Engineer was wearing.

“That’s a valid question,” Geordi said, “Although the answer is a bit complicated. Like any species, some humans are born with genetic differences that can affect the way we interact with the world. I happened to be born blind. Humans aren’t born blind often, but it can happen from time to time. The VISOR helps me see not just what he can see,” he gestured to Riker, “But the entire electromagnetic light spectrum. Most other humans prefer cybernetic implants or other accommodations to this, though,” he tapped his VISOR again.

Celeste sat down next to him, the lights and humming bothering her a little less, but still lingering in the back of her mind. “Fascinating!” She exclaimed, “I can see how the VISOR would be helpful as an engineer. Does being bombarded with all of that different light ever get distracting?” Celeste’s pupils contracted upon hearing herself speak, and she forced herself to look down, “You probably get asked these questions all the time, I apologize.”

“No worries, Celeste,” Said Geordi, “This is all new for you, it’s understandable to be curious. Now that you mention it, it can get a little distracting.” He laughed and rubbed the back of his head.

Riker shot Geordi a surprised look. “It can?”

“Oh yeah,” Geordi shook his head, “Some species, like you Celeste, emit really bright waves of light outside of the visual spectrum. Others, like my friend Data who I’ll introduce you to later, constantly glow shifting colors.”

Celeste felt her chest briefly tighten, but reprimanded herself for her apprehension, reminding herself that Data was an entirely different android from the one she had to scan the shadows for every time she entered a public docking bay or made her way through the seedier parts of a crowded space station. “It’s because his power source emits a constantly fluctuating pattern of ultraviolet rays, right?”

“How did you know Data had a power source?” Riker, tired of standing, leaned against a diagonally-sloped control panel on the wall. Celeste silently wondered if leaning on panels would have any unfortunate consequences, but she decided against bringing this up to Riker. He probably knew something she didn’t.

Celeste’s ears pinned to the back of her head again. She dug her unsheathed claws into the hem of her sleek blue and black tunic. She knew this conversation topic would come up at some point, and was honestly surprised that the Captain hadn’t asked her about it during the interview. “I had a run-in with his brother on my first assignment.”

Geordi fumbled with the tool he’d been using to manipulate the mass of wires, causing a few of them to spark. The sparks lit his face at odd, distorting angles as he spoke. “Lore?”

Riker stopped leaning on the control panel, his brows drawn together in concern. “Unless Data has yet another surprise twin brother.”

A chill ran down Celeste’s spine as a pair of predator-like yellow eyes and a vulpine smile forced themselves into her memory. When applying for a position on the Enterprise, she’d been well aware that she’d have to work with someone who shared every physical feature with the misanthropic man who terrorized her, from the ghostly-pale visage contrasting with the dark, slicked-back hair to the seemingly ordinary frame hiding a deadly strength. She knew that despite their identical appearance and abilities, Data was a kind, upstanding Starfleet officer with no records of using his strength to harm others. Conflating him with his brother was unfair, even if the face haunting her less pleasant dreams belonged to both of them. “No, it was Lore,” She curled her tail over her knees like a protective blanket, “After graduating from the Academy, I was assigned to integrate into Pakled society and learn about their values and why they’re so bent on theft and violence despite their frequent lack of success. Long story short, I ended up on the wrong side of Lore’s criminal operation.”

Geordi’s mouth dropped open, and he tilted his head at Riker. “Did you hear about this?”

The Commander was now standing at his full height in front of them, arms crossed and looking between Geordi and Celeste with a grave expression. “No,” He said, his voice sharp as he trained his steely blue gaze on Celeste, “I did not.”

Celeste’s heart stopped, barely noticing the familiar feeling of her fingers and toes going numb. She took a deep breath. “I- I don’t know why that would be the case. I immediately informed Starfleet HQ when I started to suspect something was going on, then conducted a full in-person debrief after I escaped,” Her vision blurred and suddenly, she felt like she was hovering above her body, and could see all three of them in the room. She noticed herself sitting on the floor next to a concerned Geordi, her pupils dilating and chest rising and falling faster and faster, “I don’t know what happened. Maybe I filed the transcripts incorrectly? Or I could have-”

Geordi placed a hand on Celeste’s back, although it took her a moment to register the feeling. “Breathe,” He instructed, his voice gentle, “You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m sorry,” Celeste fought back against the wave of shame that enveloped her as she realized that she nearly had a panic attack in front of the Chief Engineer and the First Officer on her first day, “I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

Riker knelt down so he was at eye-level with the two of them, “It’s alright, Celeste,” His voice still tense, but less accusatory than before, “I’ll call a meeting with all of the senior crewmembers after the Captain’s done his current mission. We’ll all get to the bottom of this together. For now, let’s focus on finishing the tour, ok?”

Celeste focused on regulating her breathing. This was just another mystery to solve. The Enterprise dealt with mysteries all the time. Besides, if she somehow got court-martialled or kicked out of Starfleet, she could always find a job cleaning bioluminescent algae tanks on some science station so remote that no one would know how badly she’d messed up, and androids with vendettas could never find her. Easy peasy. She nodded and forced a smile. “Thank you, Commander. Let’s finish the tour,” She turned back to the Chief Engineer, who had resumed his work with notably less fervor than before. “It was nice to meet you Chief Engineer LaForge. I’ll talk to you later.” She hoped against hope that she would actually get to talk with him later.

*

Celeste struggled to stay focused for the rest of the tour. Of course, everything was as exciting as she’d imagined it would be. The Enterprise seemed like the perfect place to work. The arboretum brimming with lush alien greenery, the observation lounge where Celeste felt like the stars were wrapping her up in a blanket, Medbay bustling with doctors treating even the slightest injuries with utmost care. However, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that she wouldn’t get to be a part of this utopian living space for long. As soon as everyone discovered where she’d messed up with the Lore situation, she’d have to face that awful transporter one final time, and never see any of this ever again.

They passed the bridge without entering, and Celeste fought back her curiosity. The door to the Captain’s office was ajar, and Celeste craned her head in just enough to see a spiky red and white aquatic organism swimming around in a clear container. After passing a maze of hallways and rooms that left Celeste’s head spinning, they stopped outside a door that read, “Conference Room.”

“Alright,” Said Riker, “Our Chief of Security is going to go over a few things with you, then you’ll be free until after the Captain finishes up his investigation. Any questions before I get going?”

Questions about new environments and new people always seemed to overflow from Celeste’s brain. Right now though, her dread drowned out her curiosity, and her mind crackling and hissing with static that refused to form into coherent thoughts. She shook her head, her brave smile that had been plastered to her face for the past several minutes refusing to crack. “Thanks for the tour, Commander Riker! I hope everything goes ok with the investigation.”

The First Officer thanked her before walking back the direction they had come.

Celeste took a deep breath and rang the buzzer for the Briefing Room. Her smile almost turned genuine at the “bloop, bleep-bleep” sound that came out of the buzzer.

“Enter!” Boomed a male voice from inside.

Celeste stepped inside to see a yellow-clad Klingon man scowling down at a datapad on the far end of a long table. His head snapped up as she walked in, and he looked her over in silence for a moment. She stood perfectly still, allowing him to assess her for a few seconds. Once he seemed satisfied, he gave her a slow nod. Celeste walked past a long window, the stars that crept by outside momentarily calming her nerves, before taking a seat across from the Chief of Security.

Instead of holding out a hand like she’d done when greeting humans, Celeste held a fist up to her chest. “Greetings. I’m Officer Celeste, Xenoanthropologist.”

The Klingon’s hand went up, outstretched as if expecting a handshake, before correcting himself and moving to his chest as well. “Lieutenant Worf, Chief of Security.”

Celeste winced and stroked her ears in embarrassment. “Sorry about that. Should I have shaken your hand instead?”

Worf shook his head, the split second of annoyance that flashed across his features fading as quickly as it appeared. “No need to apologize. I’ve been around humans so long that my traditional Klingon greetings are a little…” He looked down and grimaced, “Rusty.”

“Fair enough, I’d imagine there aren’t too many people here you can practice with.”

The Klingon shook his head. “There are not,” he looked up at Celeste, narrowing his eyes, “How are you familiar with Klingon customs?”

Celeste relaxed into her chair as she spoke. “I spent a significant portion of my early life in Klingon territory. Picked up a lot there, although I’m not as fluent as I’d like to be. And,” She added, "I make it a point to study all societal customs.”

He nodded down at the datapad, “Your record says that the Klingon warship Jaws of Terror discovered you in a chunk of space ice in the Grokkun Sector of Klingon Space 10 cycles ago. As far as we know, the Grokkun Sector has been a dead zone for thousands of cycles. Do you have any idea how you could have ended up there?”

Celeste shook her head, quelling a feeling she refused to define as it gnawed at her chest. She stared at the stars passing them by out the window. She forced a smile, “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t have the slightest idea.”

He nodded, expression unreadable. He scrolled further down on the datapad. “Top Academy graduate, clean record, everything looks in ord- wait,” He paused, “This wasn’t here before.”

Celeste swallowed, pretty sure she knew exactly what new information the Security Chief was currently reading. She sat upright and stared just past the Klingon’s face into the void outside. “My apologies, Lieutenant. I believe I made a filing mistake. Or something. I’m looking into it. I can assure you that I did not withhold that information intentionally.”

Worf looked up, his dark eyes free of the accusation that Celeste had expected. Instead, his expression grew distant and pensive. His eyes slowly narrowed after a moment. “Starfleet sent a recent graduate on a solo expedition to Pakled Planet?”

Celeste looked down. “I suppose it was wrong to trust me with such an important task. I will do what I can to make up for-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Worf interrupted, his voice gruff with thinning patience. “Sending you on your own is unusual, not to mention dangerous. Why did they do that?”

Celeste tilted her head, suddenly unsure what to think. “They told me it was a special program for the most promising graduates,” She sat in silence for a moment, wondering where Worf was going with this. Was she wrong for agreeing to go on the mission? She waved the thought away. This was Starfleet. Of course it wasn’t wrong to implicitly trust Starfleet.

Worf started furiously tapping on his datapad as Celeste reflected. “Who told you?”

“Uhhh,” Celeste wracked her brain for clear memories of the Academy after her graduation. Remembering which professors and Starfleet officials she’d spoken with in between celebrating her academic success, packing up her dormitory, and contemplating her future left her feeling rather dazed. “I’ll have to-”

Red lights illuminated the conference room, accompanied by a shrill alarm. The junior officer flinched, covering her feline ears as best she could.

Worf rose from his chair, expression grim but otherwise unbothered. “Of course, investigate the powerful force in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way that would go wrong,” he muttered under his breath, “We’ll address this further in the meeting later. Ready for your first assignment, Officer Celeste?”

Celeste’s already racing heart quickened, but with hope and excitement instead of fear. Perhaps she would get one Enterprise mission under her belt before they fired her. She leapt to her feet, ears and tail pointed upward. “Yes, Sir!”

Worf nodded in approval before heading out of the conference room. “To the Bridge.”

Chapter Text

Celeste had tried to figure out what to expect when she and Lieutenant Worf opened the Turbolift doors to respond to the Bridge’s Red Alert. A million scenarios ran through her head as she tailed the Klingon Security Chief, trying to mimic his stoic determination as much as she could. The last thing Celeste expected to see when the hydraulic Turbolift door slid open was a group of high-ranking Starfleet officers warily eyeing a smug-looking man dressed in what Celeste could only describe as the most head-turning outfit at any Earth Renaissance Faire. Silken fabric in deep shades of red and midnight blue cascaded down his body in robes and a cape that swept along the floor. The fabric constantly shifted like slow-flowing water, even when the man wasn’t wildly gesticulating at his captive audience. Celeste froze, temporarily mesmerized by the shimmering colors and patterns.

Worf immediately bristled in front of her, brandishing his phaser at the eccentric stranger. “Oh great,” Snarled Worf, “What do you want?”

Picard shot the Security Chief a warning look. He did a double-take when he noticed Celeste standing close behind him. She gave the Captain a subtle thumbs-up with her best “Don’t Worry, We’ve Got This” look, then trained her gaze on the man in the elaborate cloak and eyepatch in the room’s center.

Aside from the unparalleled whimsy, the intruder appeared unassuming at first glance. He seemed human enough, pale skin, cool-toned brown hair just long enough to show off a slight waviness, likely middle-aged if Celeste’s incredibly unreliable ability to determine human ages was at all correct. However, the mischievous gleam in his hazel eyes set Celeste on edge, and from the looks of it, Worf even more so. She couldn’t help but admire the loving craftsmanship of his luxurious star-patterned cloak and gold-trimmed robe adorned with tiny gemstones, no matter how ostentatious.

The cloaked intruder scoffed at Worf’s remark. “Come on, Worf. It’s always, ‘what do you want, Q?’ ‘Get off our ship, Q,’ and never ‘How are you, Q?’” He rolled his eyes with the disdain of a PTA parent reprimanding another parent for forgetting to bring their famous dinosaur-shaped sugar cookies to their kids’ bake sale for the third time in a row, “Has anyone told you that your people skills could use some work?” His gaze fell on the small teal-haired science officer that Worf was doing his best to obscure from view, “Oh great, there’s another one.”

Celeste peeked out from behind the Security Chief, her pulse starting to ring in her pointed ears as she realized that everyone’s eyes were trained on her. Aside from Picard, Worf, and apparently Q, she counted two other people manning the Bridge. One woman wore a bespoke silver and purple jumpsuit, her hair tied out of her face and falling in dark shimmering waves around her shoulders. Her grim expression faltered slightly, hints of anguish leaking into her inky black eyes. She gripped the arm of her chair and took a deep breath, her eyes softening at the sight of the new Officer.

The other person’s marble-white skin and deep brown hair meticulously combed out of his face made Celeste’s tail puff up. She thought she mentally prepared herself to work with someone who looked like *him*, but standing mere meters away from Data made her realize how ill-prepared she really was. Data didn’t just resemble Lore. If she didn’t know for a fact that this wasn’t the case, she would have been completely convinced that the man sitting at the steering console was Lore himself, if the misanthropic space pirate committed to a daily multi-step hair routine and ironed his Starfleet uniform every night. Celeste chided herself. Lore wouldn’t iron his clothes if his life depended on it. Nor had Lore’s golden eyes ever studied Celeste with such polite curiosity.

Her mind was too full of static to do anything except give everyone a nervous smile.

Q crossed his arms and shook his head slowly, his erratic movements and twitching eye indicating a growing annoyance. “You Starfleet people are all so rude. Don’t you know it’s polite to introduce yourself when meeting new people, new girl?”

“Don’t speak to her like that!” Snapped Worf.

Celeste stepped out from behind him, giving him an appreciative nod. “Thanks Lieutenant,” She turned to Q, attempting to keep her voice inviting but even, “My apologies. As an omnipotent being such as yourself likely already knows, manners are heavily contextual. I’ve been trying to study the customs of your species to ensure smoother communication in the future, but Starfleet records don’t have a whole lot of information on the Q Continuum yet. I hope to treat this meeting as a learning opportunity,” She stepped forward to the man in the cloak, trying her best to ignore the rest of the crew’s varied expressions of concern, confusion, and intrigue, “My name is Celeste. The Enterprise’s Xenoanthropologist, as of today,” *For now*, “Do you shake hands?”

Q stammered for a moment before holding out his hand. “You talk a lot for a creature with such a puny brain. Wait a minute,” He narrowed his eyes at Celeste as they shook hands. “How… interesting.”

Celeste tilted her head, her ears moving to one side with the motion. “Pardon?”

Q laughed, as if he were referencing an inside joke with himself. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“That’s vague,” Her mind raced, wondering if the Q-Continuum was all-knowing as well as all-powerful. Perhaps they had some hidden knowledge of her origin. She tried to tamper her curiosity to a safe level, reminding herself that this being could erase the entire Enterprise from existence on a whim. She needed to be cautious and avoid upsetting him at all costs.

“Stop harassing my crew and tell me why you’re traipsing all over my ship in this hideous attempt at a Don Quixote costume,” Barked the Captain.

Q heaved a theatrical gasp. It was difficult to tell if he was genuinely hurt or feigning offence to be dramatic. She couldn’t help but wonder whether an omnipotent being would genuinely care about the opinions of those they perceived as lower life-forms, or why he would care at all. Q walked in a slow circle around Picard, stopping to tilt the Captain’s chin up so their eyes were slightly more level. “Do you not think I look dashing, Mon Capitan?” His voice lowered as he spoke, but Celeste’s sensitive ears were still able to pick it up.

Fighting the sudden urge to laugh, Celeste glanced at Worf and the other crew members to see if they found Q’s behavior toward the Captain as odd as she did. Worf stood at attention with his phaser trained on Q, focused on nothing except the situation’s many potential threats. Celeste noticed that the woman, likely Counselor Troi, seemed to be having an even harder time trying to ignore her discomfort. She looked like she might throw up on the control panel. Data caught Celeste’s eyes, and he gave her the slightest eyebrow raise, glancing between Celeste and the scene transpiring in front of them. She could have sworn that the corner of his mouth twitched as they locked eyes. Something about making eye contact with him slightly loosened Celeste’s grip on her composure. She coughed into her sleeve to hide the giggle that bubbled up to the surface.

The two older men carried on in front of them as if their onlookers didn’t exist. Picard kept his face level with Q’s, maintaining unblinking eye contact. “You look as ridiculous as you always do,” he growled just loud enough for the rest of the crew to hear.

Q clutched his chest and pretended to stagger backwards. “Words hurt, you know,” He glared at the captain with the wounded reproach of a coral snake whose tail got stepped on. Standing up to his full height, he turned away from the captain, twirling his cape dramatically, “Fwoosh!”

“I’m sorry,” Said Worf, “Did you say the sound effects for your cape out loud?”

Celeste couldn’t help it anymore. She let out a full-on laugh, leaning on Worf for support. Worf did not react.

Q ignored the two of them. “You all should be grateful,” he chided, “Although my presence in and of itself is something to be celebrated, I worked very hard to prepare something awe-inspiring for you today. By the end of it, I promise,” He turned back to Picard, “Even you will come around.”

“Listen Q,” Picard began, “We don’t have time for your-”

Q snapped, and the six of them were no longer on the Bridge. Instead, they stood on rustic hardwood floors adorned with mismatched, brightly-colored carpets. The walls around them seemed to be made of roughly-hewn stone, lined with arched stained glass windows that filtered sunlight through brilliant blues, greens, and purples. The various curiosities on the rows and rows of shelves caused Celeste’s chest to tighten slightly until she got a better look at the contents on the shelves. Instead of contraband weapons that melted you bones-first or stuffed trophies of now-extinct species from around the galaxy, the shelves were full of gleaming armor pieces, weapons so fantastical-looking that there was no way they could have practical combat uses, every shape of glass bottle with every conceivable color of liquid inside, and dozens of racks of fine silken costumes in various sizes.

“Games…” Picard finished.

Chapter Text

Deanna Troi

Deanna Troi stepped through a multicolored patch of light streaming from the stained glass windows, physical and emotional surroundings both a cacophony of technicolor confusion. “What is this place?” As she opened her mouth to speak, the lack of nausea pleasantly surprised her. She could easily protect her empathic psyche from most beings if their emotions became too much for her to handle, but trying to block out Q’s mind was like trying to shield herself from a supernova by hiding in a cardboard box. Wherever they were, Q’s roiling, screaming firehose of emotions too wild and complex to comprehend without questioning one’s sanity had ceased assaulting Deanna’s senses.

Deanna breathed a small sigh of relief as Data began speaking. She could never sense anything from her android friend, which had made her uneasy when they’d first met. However, in the present moment, watching him express his observations without any feedback from her empathic powers hit her like a lungful of fresh air after swimming underwater for a full minute. “Before I noticed that many of the details appear historically inaccurate, my initial thought was 1300’s France based on the building’s architecture and some of the artifacts, but the stained-glass windows are much older, likely from around 650 Common Era, and some of the artifacts are from the Middle Ages, and others from the Renaissance, and-”

“Thank you, Commander Data,” Picard cut him off. Deanna felt a twinge of frustration at the captain’s usual irritation he emitted when he thought Data had spoken for too long, “So this room is an amalgamation of different time periods. Does this tell us anything?”

Deanna sighed inwardly. What was it supposed to tell them? Jeanluc Picard expected a lot from his crew. Of course Starfleet officers were supposed to accomplish the impossible on a daily basis, but at the end of the day, they were all still human. And Betazoid and Klingon and android and whatever Celeste was, but the expression’s meaning still rang true. Deanna knew firsthand how heavily Starfleet’s lofty expectations impacted some of the Enterprise’s crew members. Take the poor new Xenoanthropologist, for example. She seemed so anxious and out of her depth already. What had Worf been thinking, bringing her aboard the Bridge during a Red Alert on her very first day?

Her eyes absently landed on the teal-haired woman, smiling at the way the younger officer basked in a patch of sunlight, deep violet paw pads barely visible on her hands as she steepled her clawed fingers in front of her chest. Deanna pushed down her instinctive fear of anything feline and tried to appreciate the way Celeste’s blue-green ears appeared almost translucent in the rays of sunshine, her wide mint green eyes landing on each of the details Data had pointed out. Deanna felt a sudden blossom of excitement and understanding from the catlike humanoid as her pupils snapped into razor-thin slits. Data’s observations had helped her make a connection. Then, Celeste’s mind radiated two equally-strong emotions: hope and embarrassment. The Counselor met the Xenoanthropologist’s unsettling but striking eyes and gave her a nod of encouragement.

Celeste nodded back at Deanna in mild confusion, cleared her throat, and addressed Jeanluc, “It might, Captain. I have… a theory,” her ears pinned back, mirroring her growing embarrassment and uncertainty. Deanna’s chest ached at the self-consciousness the young woman felt. She made a mental note to recommend her for a counseling session later.

“You don’t sound too convinced,” Picard frowned.

The young woman’s self-consciousness and embarrassment shot up exponentially. Deanna fought the urge to tell the Captain off for his lack of patience with his new subordinate. She instead decided to bring it up with him later. Privately. Celeste spoke anyway, the confidence in her voice contrasting against every emotion Deanna could sense from her. “That’s because it’s pretty out-there,” Deanna tried to give her an encouraging smile from an angle where no one else would notice. Celeste’s anxiety levels fell slightly, “However, this is Q we’re dealing with. He can bend reality to his will, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Worf remarked, inspecting a rack of spears with curved tips that all emitted different colors of pulsating light. A sign below the rack read: “Potentially-Cursed Spears.” He picked one up that emanated a deep red halo around it, and began to aim at a conveniently-placed training dummy that was painted to look like Q riding a unicorn. It didn’t take an empath to know he desperately needed to vent his frustration. This was one of the times when Deanna thought it best to block herself off from Worf’s emotions.

“Don’t touch anything!” Picard groaned, the weariness and resignation in his tone resembling a parent chaperoning a gaggle of hyperactive children on a museum field trip. Worf looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it and glowered, reluctantly placing the spear back on its rack. The Captain turned back to Celeste. “You were saying?”

“It stands to reason that if Q can make anything happen, he could put us in scenarios based on works of fiction, yes?”

Data chimed in, “Correct. He has done so multiple times already. Historical periods, the plots of popular works of literature, even ancient forms of entertainment known as television shows,” He tilted his head in a few micro-movements, regarding Celeste with an air of what Deanna could only guess was restrained intrigue, “Do you believe this room of historical inaccuracies is based on a fictional work?”

Celeste nodded slowly, meeting his eyes for a moment before she had to look away. Deanna hadn’t noticed much about Celeste’s emotions when she first entered the Bridge thanks to Q’s overpowering presence, but she raised her eyebrows at the conflicting rush of feelings coursing through the new officer when pale green eyes met bright gold ones. First was a sudden but overwhelming flash of weariness and even a hint of terror, immediately followed by guilt and anger directed at herself. What reason would Celeste have to be afraid of Data? Sure, he was strong enough to hurt people if he would ever do such a thing, but so was Worf, and Deanna sensed that Celeste felt rather safe around the Klingon.

Celeste responded to the android, fear and shame replaced with excitement and appreciation for his ideas, “In a way, yes. All of the mismatched elements from different historical time periods are very common in an old genre of literature, television, and games called fantasy, which is often categorized by immersive magical worlds that stem from the authors’ imaginations. Humans have created countless fantasy-inspired works in the past, so this is still a pretty broad topic. However this particular combination of weapons, potions, and fantastical magic items reminds me of a human game called,” She took a breath, more doubt and embarrassment creeping into her mind, “Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Alright,” said Picard, his emotions mostly neutral, but Deanna noticed that he was ever so slightly impressed. She grinned. Any time someone managed to impress the Captain was a win in her book, “Suppose your line of thinking is correct. What does this Dungeon Dragons game entail, exactly? Are we going to have to beat Q at it to escape or something?”

The young officer’s suppressed amusement threatened to send Deanna into a laughing fit. “I don’t think so. You don’t exactly ‘win’ Dungeons and Dragons.”

Strange. How would they escape Q’s game if they couldn’t beat him at it? Celeste had to know something based on the waves of excitement and anticipation emanating from her. “What do you do, then?” Deanna prompted.

“Glad you asked!” A sharp-toothed smile spread across Celeste’s face. She began gesturing with her hands and tail as she spoke. “The game is all about collaborative storytelling. Usually there’s someone running the adventure called the Dungeon Master who makes up a plot and a world and scenarios, and the players who roleplay in the story the Dungeon Master creates for them as the main characters. There’s typically no right or wrong way to play, it’s all about telling a good story with your friends,” The feline woman’s excitement was downright contagious at this point. Deanna moved closer to her to bask in the feeling.

Worf sighed. “So Q’s trapped us in an unwinnable game. Great.”

“Not necessarily,” Said Data, “Based on my extrapolations of Q’s decisions in the past, I can say with a 77.69333-repeating% degree of certainty that as long as we participate in his tasks per his specifications, he will eventually let us leave.”

Celeste pumped her fist, nearly knocking over a display rack of rocks labeled “Edible Magic Crystals.” Deanna caught a falling amethyst and gingerly set it back in its place, only slightly tempted to take a nibble. “Great, we can do this! I don’t know Q very well, but based on past reports of his self-importance, I would imagine that he would make himself the Dungeon Master and he’s going to give us a quest or something. We’ll probably just have to play along, then we can get back to the bridge once the quest is accomplished.”

“Right. Good thinking, everyone. Time to test this hypothesis," said Picard. He turned to one of the stained glass windows and started shouting. “Q! I know you’re listening! Give us our damn adventure already!”

Deanna steeled herself for the onslaught of overwhelm and nausea.

With a painfully-bright flash of golden light, Q appeared lying down on the shop counter, his glittering golden high-heeled boots knocking over a small box of discount potions. The potion bottles shattered on the ground and started burning a hole in the hardwood. “Fiiiine. But I was having so much fun listening to your puny minds trying to work it all out,” He heaved a heavy sigh, “But I get it. This is a no-fun environment.”

“Correct,” said Picard, “We are not here to have fun. We will do what you say so you can leave us alone and I can ensure everyone on the Enterprise is safe. That’s. It.”

Q’s raging inferno eclipsed everyone else’s little candles of emotion. Even though she logically knew it wouldn’t do any good, the Counselor covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Deanna could barely sense Jeanluc’s continuous explosion of irritation that whipped around the group as soon as Q had appeared. She cut herself off from it like she had done with Worf’s fury. Data’s mind wouldn’t register to her if they had been sitting together in a mostly-empty Ten Forward, let alone riding out a torrential firestorm of Q’s emotions as they were now. That left the blue flame of Celeste, not nearly as powerful or chaotic as Q’s emotions, but burning brightly enough to cut through the discord. Now that Deanna had sensed Celeste’s emotions once, her emotional signature was easy to pick out over the noise.

The Xenoanthropologist’s mind had grown calm, even mildly fascinated and excited. Her thoughts radiated a peace and warmth that helped Troi ground herself just a little. She took a few steps toward Celeste, honing in on that bright blue flame like a lighthouse beacon through a storm. Troi leaned into the contagious excitement and whispered into one of Celeste’s soft teal ears, “Don’t tell the Captain, but I think this might be a little fun.”

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Celeste smiled, offering her arm for the Counselor to lean on. Deanna hadn’t been so grateful for anything since Will surprised her with a box of exotic chocolates after a disaster involving a mood-altering alien forced her to work a triple-shift.

“I won’t tell him either,” Q whispered as he apparated between them. Deanna felt a spike of terror and rage from Celeste, and the smaller woman bared her fangs and slapped Q’s face on instinct. Troi felt her own hand connect with Q’s face simultaneously. She looked down at her palm in surprise. Q doubled over in pain. “Ow! Violence is not the answer, ladies.”

“Sorry!” Said Celeste, guilt bleeding out from her chest. “We didn’t hurt you, did we?”

Worf scoffed. “Probably just his feelings.”

“Emotional pain can have very real physiological consequences and should therefore be addressed seriously,” Data added helpfully, giving Troi a knowing nod.

The Counselor broke into a smile. The two of them had just discussed this over a game of 3D chess the other day. At first, Deanna was slightly surprised that the android had taken her words to heart. She shook her head. Of course he had. In his quest to understand organic emotions, Data always hung onto every concept Deanna explained to him.

Deanna smiled at her friend. “Very good, Data. I think you might be more emotionally intelligent than you give yourself credit for.”

“Zero times zero still equals zero,” Sneered Q, “Speaking of zero, why don’t you divide by it?”

Data tilted his head a few times, his motions more jerky and severe than his usual micro-movements. “Attempting to divide by zero,” His eye began to twitch, and a computer fan turned on somewhere in his chest. Some dark, foul-smelling liquid began to drip from one of his nostrils.

“Stay with me, Commander,” Worf began to shake his superior by the shoulders, then turned to glare daggers at Q, “Why would you do that? Every time someone asks Data to divide by zero, he ends up in Sickbay for WEEKS!”

“ENOUGH!” Picard yelled, “Everyone focus for just a second!”

Everything became completely still and silent except the computer fan, which if anything, seemed to grow a bit louder. The android frowned at the noise emanating from his chest, his eyes growing unfocused.

Picard cleared his throat. “Thank you. Now. Q. Quest?”

Q rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ve had enough fun for now,” He snapped his fingers and Data’s “nosebleed” stopped, the computer fan slowly dying down. Q sat down on the shopkeeper’s desk. “As you have guessed, I have weaved a delightful little tale. You all get to complete my quest, and if you play your cards right, you’ll pass my test. Easy peasy! Although it is deadly, and if you die in the game, you die in real life, blah blah blah, I probably don’t have to explain that bit to you,” He waved his hand dismissively.

“Deadly?” Worf tried to position himself between Q and the rest of the crew.

Q laughed. “Don’t you worry your pretty Klingon head about that. I’m going to give you everything you need to avoid dying. Hooray! As long as you’re not idiots, you’ll be fine,” he winced, side-eying the group, “Ooh wait, this could be a problem.”

Deanna barely stopped herself from shaking her head. She understood that Q saw himself as some higher life-form or whatever, and maybe he was. That did not, however, give him the excuse to treat everyone else with such disrespect. She considered expressing that opinion to him, then decided against it.

“You are mistaken, Q,” Data’s polite correction seemed to startle the omnipotent entity, “On the contrary, everyone here possesses far above average intelligence. With our Dungeons and Dragons expert,” He gestured to Celeste, who flushed with equal parts embarrassment and pride while continuing to support Deanna, “I believe our chances of success are quite high.”

Q turned his attention to Celeste, causing a surge of anxiety that Deanna could empathize with. “A fellow D&D aficionado, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. His eyes cut into her with the dispassionate regard of a bored high school student looking at some weird pond water under a microscope in a biology class he was somehow barely passing.

Celeste let out an anxiety-fueled maniacal laugh. “I like to study influential games in different cultures and time periods. I’ll make sure we play properly so we can all get home safe,” Celeste’s eyes flicked over to Q’s souring expression, and stuttered a bit before changing tactics, “And I can help out so your DMing experience is more fun! I know how hard it is to acclimate new players by yourself. I can even help everyone make character sheets.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Q snapped his fingers, and Celeste nearly dropped Deanna and the stack of haphazardly-stapled papers that now sat beneath her free arm. Deanna felt Celeste shudder at Q’s devious grin. The biology student had a scalpel and she was a frog. “If you’re going to have an unfair advantage, I’ll just make your adventure more perilous. The lives of your new crew are quite literally in your hands,” He let out a blood-simmering laugh, “I sure hope you don’t let them down.”

Worf visibly seethed, and Data had to hold him back. Even if Deanna could ever sense emotions from Data, she wasn’t sure if she would have felt anything from him in the current chaos. She frowned at the dark expression that crossed the android’s face as he trained his glowing golden gaze on Q. If anyone else looked at someone like that, Deanna would have immediately cut herself off of their mind out of fear. While Q was a bored student at a microscope, Data was a biology professor whose grading system was even harsher and more rigorous than his high research standards.

Picard stepped between Q and Celeste until he stood inches away from the omnipotent entity’s face, staring him down without any regard for their height or power difference. “If my crew’s expertise gives us a fighting chance at whatever depraved challenge you throw at us, that’s thanks to their passion and dedication. I know those concepts are foreign to you, so it’s no wonder you find my officer’s familiarity with your game unfair.”

Deanna smiled to herself. It was about time Jeanluc started sticking up for his officers.

The air seemed to drop a few degrees, and for a moment, all was silent except the dull roar of Q’s emotions and the grounding hum of Celeste’s. Q stared down at the Captain, his complete and utter stillness radiating danger like a funnel web spider waiting for an unsuspecting insect to take one final step into its attack range. Then, to Deanna’s bewilderment, Picard spoke again.

“Admit it,” his voice caused both Troi and Celeste to flinch in surprise, “You feel threatened that we’re not entering into your game completely helpless. You desperately need to be the one in control at all times, and if anything upsets the fragile balance you’ve so carefully constructed, you lash out like an overgrown toddler.”

Deanna’s mouth hung open. She could’ve shared that same observation with Picard a long time ago, but she never would have said it aloud, especially to an entity that was equal parts power and emotional instability.

The other times Picard had criticised Q or shot him down, Q had only expressed mock despair or the occasional overly-dramatized forlorn puppy look. All of the complexity left his cloud of emotions, leaving laser-focused malice that caused Deanna to slump further down onto Celeste’s shoulder. Q’s eyes turned blank for a second before his face split into something that was a smile in name only. Deanna felt Celeste struggle under her weight, but could do nothing to alleviate her burden.

Deanna had blocked herself off from Worf’s emotions a while back, but she still risked a glance over at him and Data, hoping one of them could diffuse the situation. What she saw did not make her optimistic. Neither officer betrayed any hint of fear, but Worf’s eyes had grown wide, and he was scanning Q’s every movement and microexpression. The Klingon’s body was tense like a coiled spring, waiting for any excuse to leap into action. That was the last thing Deanna thought they needed.

Data, on the other hand, stood perfectly upright, completely devoid of tension. His hands relaxed at his sides made Deanna a bit more hopeful until she noticed that he was slowly reaching for a potion bottle while Q’s attention was elsewhere.

Q shook his head, still smiling that marrow-curdling smile. “You don’t get it, do you, Mon Capitan?”

Picard stared at him in silence, his resolve unaffected by Q’s drastic shift in demeanor.

Q’s smile widened more than was humanly possible, revealing an upsetting number of teeth. He let out a humorless chuckle. “I don’t need to manufacture any kind of illusion of control to feel good about myself, for one simple reason,” He lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, “I’m always the one in control.”

He snapped his fingers, and Captain Picard vanished into thin air.

Several things happened in rapid succession. Worf hurled a spear at Q, which harmlessly passed through him and lodged itself between Celeste’s second and third right rib with a nauseating crunch. A scream tore through Celeste’s throat as she staggered backwards. Deanna stumbled after her and caught her. White-hot pain seared the Betazoid’s hands as she touched Celeste’s arm. She instinctively yanked her burnt hands away, panicking until Data effortlessly caught the falling Xenoanthropologist. The smell of burnt toast filled the air as Celeste singed the android’s bioplast skin. Data did not react to the pain, and instead shattered the bottle of purple liquid on the ground. Lavender-scented smoke accompanied the burnt-toast smell.

Deanna froze in horror as Celeste’s fangs lengthened through her howls of pain, her now razor-sharp claws tearing into Data’s burning hands as she grasped at the spear sticking out of her chest. Data continued to hold her gently, dark biofluid leaking from his hands and arms and mixing with Celeste’s luminescent mint-green blood. Her body convulsed unnaturally in his arms, her deep violet markings and teal hair beginning to glow as if aflame. Deanna had never felt such intense, alien emotions before, even from Q. She tried to cut herself off from Celeste, but it was too late. If blocking Q was comparable to stopping a supernova, blocking Celeste was like preventing the collapse of an entire galaxy.

The last thing Deanna saw before she and Celeste both lost consciousness was Worf’s wide-eyed horror, reaching out with desperation.

Chapter Text

Celeste

Celeste had never died before. If her numerous near-death experiences over the cycles taught her anything, it’s that a universe of difference separated teetering over the edge of finality and actually falling into it. She didn’t understand how she knew she was falling in this moment, but she felt with utmost certainty that she was hurdling into nothingness. No wind whipped her hair into her face, no vertigo sent her stomach soaring into the stratosphere, although she wasn’t sure if this was due to the absence of vertigo or the absence of her stomach. The fear she felt in the transporter earlier that day amplified itself by a magnitude she couldn’t hope to calculate. She was nothing, she was nowhere, she was everywhere.

A brilliant blue spark flickered and sputtered within her. Could these be her final moments? Was it over already? With nothing left of the being that was Celeste aside from panic and shame, her mind rushed back to the report Starfleet never received. How could she have filed it incorrectly? How does someone mess up on something that serious? It didn’t matter how it happened. Because of her, a dangerous criminal continued to terrorize the galaxy. She filed it under her list of failures. Missing assignments, forgotten dates, lost correspondences. Even with Starfleet’s generous accommodations, Celeste had always wondered if she was cut out to serve in the most prestigious organization in the galaxy. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for anything.

“Celeste,” came a faraway voice that rang like the iridescent shadows in a flawlessly-carved dilithium crystal, “Look around.”

Something about the voice’s clear-cut intensity sliced through her panic, but she struggled to understand what they meant. The self-loathing stream of consciousness continued to writhe its way into what was left of her being as she tried to process the words that bled from the stars. She was nothing but a mistake. A waste of resources. How could such a catastrophically failed experiment view its surroundings with no eyes to see or brain to process visual information? The voice was wasting its valuable time on her. Her spark threatened to fade into the blackness.
“You can do it. We know you can.”

The voice… hadn’t left by now? Her spark sent out a couple of tiny solar flares. Perhaps she could try to open her eyes anyway. To her surprise, her eyelids both existed and obeyed her command. As far as she could see, a kaleidoscope of colorful nebulae burned and shifted, countless stars forming before her eyes at a rate far faster than could ever be possible. The blackness around her glimmered and glowed as more and more distant stars flickered to life. Each star had to be about the size of Earth’s sun, yet more stars than she could count blinked into the distance as sparks of brilliance like the one in her chest. She tried to comprehend the sheer scale of what she was seeing.

But how could she comprehend anything beyond the scope of her small mind? Her problem-solving skills would never be enough. No matter how long she spent studying, she would never belong anywhere. No matter how hard she tried to stay on top of things, she’d always forget something important and screw everything up. The voice, however, seemed so patient. Her brain kept collapsing in on itself, trying to force itself to see and comprehend the light years’ worth of roiling clouds of gas and sparkling lights spanning into the distance. The harder she tried, the more mindless terror clawed its way back into her body. The stars started to wink out one by one. The darkness began to rapidly cascade toward Celeste, threatening to swallow her.

“Stop it, you’re scaring her,” Came that voice again, muffled though Celeste’s racing heart and ringing ears. Celeste whipped her head around to locate who had spoken, but was met with nothing but the dizzyingly vast field of neverending star nurseries rapidly fading into a darkness so black it was painful to look at, “She’s clearly not ready to be here yet.”

Celeste opened her mouth to ask a question she had no idea how to verbalize. It was in trying to speak that she realized she had not been breathing for the last several seconds. Although the lack of oxygen didn’t seem to have any affect on her ability to observe and think, sudden awareness of the inability to breathe caused her to panic and claw at her throat.

A cloud of luminous blue stardust and gases that spanned multiple large solar systems surrounded her in a warm embrace. “You’re ok. Nothing in this place will hurt you unless you let it. Just relax, alright?”

Relaxing was the last thing Celeste’s panic-stricken body seemed capable of doing. Had she ever been able to relax? Vision blurry through tears, she continued to claw at her burning throat and chest, looking for some way to shut down the ever growing cascade of panic.

Was she in space? If she was, she would have stopped perceiving her surroundings several seconds ago. It looked like space though, the vastness giving way to distant glowing sparks. Now that she was past the shock of it all, she felt an odd comfort in being able to see each and every faraway star. Any star out there could shelter a world of beings who eat together, sing together, invent games and play together. Panic slowly giving way to tranquil wonder, Celeste let her now fully-corporeal body drift through near nothingness without resistance. Something about the nebula’s gentle cerulean glow felt oddly comforting. She decided against investigating why that was the case, instead allowing the warmth and wash over her. The stars around her stopped winking out, the light growing steady and gentle all around her.

“You have the ability to get back safely. Just visualize where you want to go. You’re quite good at visualizing, aren’t you?”

A few more stars flared awake in the periphery. Celeste couldn’t begin to understand how visualization would help her get home, but she didn’t have to understand. The voice struck something laying dormant within her, filling her with a sense of certainty so clear she wondered why she’d never felt anything like this before. Of course she could visualize, creating fantastical worlds for those around her to explore and play and learn.

Closing her eyes again, she thought about all of the detail Q put into his little fantasy shop, the floors covered with a wood grain that swirled far more irregularly than any tree she’d ever seen, each stone in the wall a subtly unique shape, the ethereal glow of the arched stained-glass windows. The looks of horror on the crew as Captain Picard vanished and Celeste fell.

The warm blue glow grew more tangible around her until she felt a pair of arms holding her with the tender determination of a mother cat carrying her kittens out of a burning building.

Chapter Text

Check out my tumblr for some art I made of the characters: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/tngspirited

Since I know how to do this now, here's a link to the story playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4UY8CyAzZe1dPfZVrhYVZq?si=L1svqG4HQVacaWEHxBb56A

Worf

Worf stared at the unconscious woman who now laid limp in Data’s arms. The feeling of powerlessness to rectify something that had been his fault threatened to drown him, dragging him far deeper into the hadal zone of despair than any lack of agency he’d ever felt from being forced to play Q’s games. Worf opened his mouth to say something, anything, “Celeste! This wasn’t how it was supposed to-- I didn’t mean,” he gritted his teeth and shook his head, “If Q hadn’t--”

He’d initially met the idea of adding a xenoanthropologist to the Enterprise’s senior research crew with skepticism. In Worf’s opinion, the Captain and many of the other senior staff were already far too lenient when faced with unknown threats. Trying to learn about everything that was trying to kill you gave those threats vital openings from which to attack. Worf had expected Celeste to be another stuffy bureaucratic Starfleet officer, the kind of person to immediately dismiss his calls to action in favor of following regulation to a T and getting her name on as much published research as possible.

The first thing she’d done when they met was instinctively hold still and allow him to inspect her, a sign of goodwill and respect among Klingons. Speaking with her was… easier than expected. Not that she spoke and behaved quite like a Klingon, of course, her unique approach to socializing shone through no matter how well she understood Klingon customs. Still, Worf admired her honesty and determination when faced with re-living such an unpleasant past. It was honorable, even, and Worf did not use that word lightly.
Wait. Her past. Worf glanced down at Data holding Celeste.

“Data,” Worf forced his guilt-heavy lungs to breathe, his colleague’s name barely leaving his mouth.

The android looked up, hands still occupied with stopping the bleeding.

“Is Celeste still burning you?”

Data shook his head. “No Sir. Her internal temperature has returned to its typical 39.420 degrees Celsius. This may be a sign of stabilization.”

“Good,” Said Worf. “Hand her to the Counselor.”

Data’s brows knitted together in what Worf recognized as the android’s take on confusion. “But Sir. I am capable of delivering medical attention more quickly like this. I can-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Said Worf, remembering the dread that had settled behind Celeste’s eyes when recalling her time on Pakled planet. “Just hand her to Troi, I’ll explain later.”

Worf was so used to the Captain shooting down his suggestions for battle, the Starfleet need for ethics and understanding always outweighed Worf’s concerns for the safety and dignity of their crew. Deep down, he knew Picard’s decisions, even his frequent dismissal of Worf’s ideas, were out of the Captain’s own concern for everyone’s safety and wellbeing. Worf didn’t take any of it personally. However, this time was different. He had vital information about Celeste and really couldn’t afford for Data to-

“Understood,” Data and Deanna began to gently move the unconscious officer, the spear perfectly still in Data’s expert hands.

“Keep pressure on the wound, we might be able to stop her from bleeding out,” Counselor Troi warned as she held Celeste in her arms, her voice oddly calm for an empath surrounded by fear and pain. If he hadn’t just caught her as she passed out, Worf would have assumed the half-Betazoid to be serene and fully alert.

“Acknowledged, Counselor,” Data’s even tone contrasted with the burn marks and lacerations on his arms and hands. Bright greenish blood continued to ooze from Celeste’s chest onto his ochre-yellow uniform.

Worf’s gaze landed on the spear sticking out of her chest. His arm muscles twitched at the memory of how easy it had been to throw the spear. His hearts still pounded at the fearful fury that launched the weapon from his hands. He had been attempting to defend his Captain, his crew, his dignity. Now all three lay in tatters, Worf the one who shredded them to pieces in less than a second. He could only hope to die in battle one day, but being slain by an ally was one of the ultimate forms of dishonor. And slaying an ally when that ally hadn’t shown any signs of weakness or treachery deserved a punishment worse than death. He longed to go back a few seconds in time and tackle himself to the ground before he attacked Q. If only Dr. Crusher were here, a mere spear wound would be a non-issue.

Data’s singed hands continued to press around Celeste’s wound, slowing the bleeding. Worf could see the slight glint of duranium skeletal framing and blinking lights in some areas where Celeste had burned the android’s bioplast completely off. Worf was certain Data had already taken inventory of his damage, but the android spoke as if he didn’t notice, “I am able to sufficiently slow the bleeding, but the chances that the spear punctured a vital organ are…” He paused, his voice growing even softer, “I think it best not to continue.”

Q was chiding Worf, but his enemy’s words faded into the background. Worf never thought Q had anything relevant to say, especially at this moment.

“Whatt’ya do to th’ Captain?” Celeste’s voice, even weak and slurred, sparked a meteor shower of relief through Worf. The triangle-eared officer opened an eye just wide enough to find Q. Once they landed on Q’s face, her pupils retracted into hostile slits. She grew so tense that Worf expected her to try and tear the omnipotent entity to shreds if Deanna hadn’t been holding onto Celeste like both of their lives depended on it.

Counselor Troi let out a sigh of relief. Even Data let out a slow deep breath, and Worf realized that the android hadn’t been breathing for the past couple of minutes.

Q leaned against his desk, his stance unguarded as if to taunt Worf. “Consider my suspicions confirmed,” He waved a hand, and the spear and Celeste’s wound vanished. “Your precious leader is fine. For now. Thanks to his ungrateful attitude and the little stunt you all just pulled, your mission just got much more difficult.”

Worf’s hands curled into fists, ready to attack Q. Then, he remembered what happened the last time he attacked Q, and his hands fell limply by his sides.

To Worf’s surprise and admiration, Celeste still had some fight in her. “Bring it,” she snarled, gesturing for Worf, Data, and Troi to let her stand. Legs shaking as the Counselor helped her to her feet, Celeste wiped fresh blood off her lower lip. Pride in his new comrade burned in Worf’s chest. During his first meeting with Celeste, he’d thought he sensed a determined fighting spirit beneath the surface, and his instincts never failed. He winced. Almost never.

Q shrugged. “I had a totally different adventure in mind, but Jeanluc was pissing me off so he’s now dangling over a tank full of electric eels somewhere. I guess you could try to rescue him if you wanted, but I won’t make it easy,” He swooshed his hideously gaudy cape to dramatically point at Celeste, “And since you’re so cocky all of a sudden, you decide which characters everyone is going to play,” He gestured to the now blood-splattered sheets of paper scattered around on the floor in front of Celeste.

Celeste began picking up the papers, scanning their contents as she organized them. “Pre-written character sheets, huh? We can work with this.”

“I’d find it amusing if you couldn’t,” Said Q, “Although I’m sure you’ll find a way to amuse me regardless. Now, I was going to give you a little more guidance to get you started, but your behavior has been frankly uncalled for. As punishment, I think you’re going to have to figure this out yourselves,” with a snap of his fingers and a flash of golden light so bright it left everyone seeing spots, Q once again vanished. Worf made a face at the spot where he’d been.

“Good rid-” Worf began, before the words faded from his mouth. He turned to the young officer, hand outstretched toward her but not daring to actually reach for her, “Celeste, I-”

“Hey,” She stood on her tiptoes to put a hand on his shoulder. Worf froze at the sign of trust and affection. The deadly weapons that had managed to slash and scorch Data’s tough bioplast were mere hands once again, “You were wrong earlier. What happened wasn’t your fault. It was an accident,” She paused, hesitating to speak further for a moment. Worf and the others gave her space to assemble her thoughts. “And that was pretty tame compared to some… other experiences.”

Worf felt himself flinch beneath Celeste’s warm finger pads. His eyes widened. “That absolves me of nothing. If anything, it’s worse.”

Celeste let out a laugh, pointed teeth glinting in the violet stained-glass light. She shook her head. “Not that I recommend getting impaled or anything, zero out of ten stars, but I’m not holding it against you.”

Worf crossed his arms. The junior officer was being foolish. He had proven himself a danger to her, and she should be wary going forward. Someone needed to teach this woman some self-preservation skills. “I was careless,” He argued, “I let my emotions get the better of me and acted rashly. My behavior was unacceptable.”

Worf started as Counselor Troi placed a hand on his other arm. “We were all just in a very tense situation. Data and I were struggling as well.”

Data nodded. He glanced at Troi and Celeste’s gestures of comfort, then reached out to also touch Worf’s arm, looking at the Klingon for permission first. “The contents of that bottle I shattered were undetermined. That could have been far more fatal than your accident.”

Celeste’s mouth dropped open. “That’s what you were doing earlier?” Her eyes finally landed on the android’s claw and burn marks all over his arms, and her shocked expression turned dismayed. Worf could definitely guess what was going on in her mind as she looked down at her own blood and biofluid-stained claws in horror. “What did I… Commander, are you ok?”

“I am functioning within acceptable parameters,” Assured Data. Worf raised an eyebrow, locking eyes with Troi and noticed she was wearing the same expression as he was. He didn’t realize the android was capable of lying. “It was a gamble even Commander Riker may have advised against, despite its mathematical soundness,” Data admitted, “Q might not care to revive one of us, but he would likely re-think his plan if he thought we were all in danger, lest he risk boredom. Upon reflection, my actions were rash and ill-advised,” He looked each crew member in the eye, “I apologize for endangering you all.”

“It’s alright,” Troi’s other hand moved to the android’s upper arm, a part of him that remained mostly uninjured, “Making impulsive decisions under pressure is actually a very human experience that all of us here can relate to,” She frowned, “Not that any of us are actually human, but you get my point. The important thing is that we’re all safe.”

“But we’re not all safe,” Worf began pacing over the brightly-colored carpets, squinting in annoyance as the light from the stained-glass windows streamed onto his face, “I impaled Celeste with a weapon I’ve never seen or used before, and our captain is dangling over some electric eels. I don’t even know what an electric eel is!”

Data began discussing the morphology and evolutionary history of electric eels. Worf tuned him out and watched Celeste kneel down and spread the packets of paper out on the floor, avoiding most of the blood stains.

To Worf’s chagrin, the bluish-haired officer waited for Data to finish rambling before she spoke up. “I would love to discuss electric eels more after this. Or anything, really,” She shook her head, focusing once again on the papers, “If Q is holding Captain Picard hostage, we’re going to play by his rules,” The confidence with which she spoke threw Worf through a loop. Was this really the same person who looked like she was trying not to pass out when Q had asked her to introduce herself earlier? She gestured to the papers, “These are character sheets. There were originally five of them, but one of them seemed to have disappeared with the Captain.”

Troi ran her fingers over the paper, pointedly not touching the still-drying green stains. “So there’s one for each of us. What exactly is a character sheet, Celeste?”

Celeste’s ears swiveled forward. “So glad you asked! In a game of Dungeons and Dragons, each player who isn’t the dungeon master is playing as a made-up character. Different characters will have different abilities depending on their class and other traits. A class is kind of like a character’s job. Different classes come together to form a party of adventurers. Similar to a starship’s crew composition, we typically seek a well-rounded group with adventurers whose class abilities complement one-another. And the character sheets keep track of each character’s class abilities, as well as some other details that I won’t bother you with right now.”

Worf crossed his arms. Not only were they going to have to play pretend for Q’s amusement, but this time, there were even more rules. This was idiotic. “This game sounds complicated already,” He sat down in front of Troi and Celeste, staring down at the papers with skepticism, but refusing to look at their contents.

“So these character sheets,” Prompted Troi, “What would happen if we decide to play as one of these pre-written characters?”

“Many possibilities lie within the realm of Q’s abilities and past track record,” Said Data, “We may just have to try to find out. Celeste, I volunteer as a test subject to make up for my lapse in judgement earlier.”

His lapse in judgement? Data just threw a bottle of magic lavender essential oils on the ground. Granted, the floral, soapy smell made Worf sick to his stomach, but it was harmless nonetheless. “Nonsense,” Argued Worf, “You didn’t impale someone in the chest. Test it on me, Celeste.”

Troi shook her head. “We’re not playing the guilt Olympics, you two. Celeste, you know Q’s game best, how do you think we should proceed?”

“What is the Olymp- Never mind. Later. Based purely on context clues, the Counselor’s right. The past is in the past, let’s focus on bringing the Captain home. The character sheets here are for a Cleric, who’s kind of like a magic doctor, they’re the party’s healer. There’s a Fighter, they’re usually a pretty straightforward class to play, you use your knowledge of battle tactics and fighting prowess to deal damage. And there’s a Barbarian, they’re kind of like a fighter except they go into a rage where they get really strong and tanky. Finally, there’s a Bard, they’re like a magical performer who can heal, do damage, and support the party in a variety of ways,” She paused to take a breath, “Did that make sense at all?”

Data nodded immediately, and Troi also nodded after a moment. Worf glanced at the other two, wondering how they caught on so quickly. Data made sense, he supposed. The android was probably eating this up, to borrow a human metaphor that always made Worf roll his eyes internally (He immediately regretted thinking this. It was a dumb metaphor. Also, Data didn’t even need to eat). Actually, it would make sense for Deanna to enjoy this, too. She was always inviting Worf to board game night at Riker’s. Worf had never taken her up on her offer. He neither understood nor cared much for complex games. He looked back at the glow of determination, even excitement, in Celeste’s eyes, and his stomachs tightened. After everything that had happened to her, everything he had done, she was still pouring everything she had into helping them. At the very least, he could meet her halfway.

“I will try to follow,” He finally said.

“Great!” Equal parts relief and resolve radiated from the small woman. “Normally, people choose whichever class is most fun for them, but we need to be careful here. There’s no telling what we’re up against. Since I’m most familiar with the game, I’m going to go ahead and play Divinity Everglow, the Cleric, so I can-” Before Celeste could finish her sentence, a soft breeze from no discernable source gently blew through her hair, and a painfully-bright golden light enveloped the officer’s silhouette as it began to rise off the ground. “What the…”

Worf lunged to catch her in case she was in danger, but hesitated before touching her. He looked down at his hands in fury, then up at Celeste’s glowing body rising out of his reach.

Chapter Text

Celeste

Something about the warm radiance enveloping Celeste’s body felt familiar, in a way that one recognizes a peculiar sensation or specific sequence of events from a dream they had as a child. She could feel her uniform’s fabric begin to shift, and looked down to see rays of light erupting and fading from her white-gold silhouette like tendrils of a solar flare. Her tunic lengthened into something flowing just past her knees, one sleeve shortening and the other draping down her arm. She felt a slight weight on the top of her head as something cold and metallic snaked through her hair and ears. With the golden light fading in a glittering nebula cloud around her, she slowly descended back to the ground.

All eyes were once again on her as her feet touched the floor, but this time, the attention didn’t make Celeste feel self-conscious. She opened her mouth to say something, then looked down. In place of her sleek blue Science Officer’s tunic was a beautiful white and gold dress made of shimmering, gauzy fabric. With every slight movement, the fabric shifted across her body like slowly-flowing water. Beneath the gown, she wore a pair of tall grey boots with soft souls, worn leather perfectly molded to her legs and feet as if she had been running through the forest in them her entire life. Silver cuffs on either ear connected to a chain around her head. A star-shaped crystal dangled from the chain above the deep violet diamond-shaped marking on her forehead.

Worf, whose eyes darted around the room in a panic, undoubtedly looking for some explanation for this situation and how to put a stop to it, let out a ragged breath. “What happened to you?”

Troi smiled, the wonder in her eyes mirroring Celeste’s own. “She’s ok. I can tell.”

Celeste twirled in her new outfit, then stared at her hands. The warmth from the transformation still lingered on her violet finger and palm pads, which shimmered with the slightest hint of glittering golden light. “Whoa! I just did a whole magical girl transformation!” She paused, shaking her head. “Or Q did, I guess. Hey, where’s Divinity’s character sheet?”

As soon as Celeste said “Character sheet,” a block of text projected itself in front of the group. It read, “Divinity Everglow: A strange, aloof wanderer who draws her power from the stars. One day, she woke up alone in a stellar temple with no idea of who she was or how she got there, but she knew she felt a divine connection to the stars and understood she had the ability to use their power to heal others. She’s been wandering between villages, healing those in need and searching for answers ever since.” It scrolled down a bit, and Celeste could see her ability scores, armor class, inventory, a list of Cleric spells, and other stats she breezed past for the time being.

She could feel her face heat up as she and the rest of the crew read Divinity’s description. She started to wonder how much Q knew about each of them, then decided that she didn’t want to dwell on that right now. Her eyes landed on Data’s arms, and her insides imploded all over again.

She gestured to Data’s wounds, “I’d understand if you don’t want me to mess with your arms after I hurt you, but I would like to try and heal you if you don’t mind.”

Data held his arms out toward Celeste, a few drops of amber-colored biofluid splattering onto the floor with the abrupt motion. “I am curious to see how the game’s healing spells work.”

Now… How did one go about casting a fictional spell in real life? Her mind flashed to an immense field of glowing blue stars, teetering on the edge of infinite possibility and infinite nothingness. She blinked. Was this another memory of a childhood dream, like the one she’d felt when surrounded in golden light? Regardless of its origin, another fragment of starry void lodged itself in her brain. A voice so profound it felt like it emanated from both the unfathomable void between galaxies, and the infinitesimally small gaps between atoms. A sense of familiarity, of understanding. It had told her something important. Something to do with… visualizing?

She wasn’t sure what that was about, but it was worth a shot. She could certainly visualize most of the processes involved with repairing a damaged Soong-type android. Closing her eyes, she pictured starlight emanating from her outstretched hand, radiating onto the android’s wounds. Wires wound themselves back into orderly vein-like ribbons snaking up and down duranium supports, melted bioplast warped back into place, singe marks faded to radiate their original calcite sheen. Celeste took a breath, and noticed that the smell of freshly-baked bread had replaced the burnt-toast odor that had hung in the room before.

“Systems back to 100% capacity,” When Celeste opened her eyes, she saw Data flexing his hands, inspecting her handiwork with microscopic precision. Her heartbeat quickened, wondering what would happen if her attempt had missed the mark. “Exceptional,” Data murmured to himself. He looked back up at Celeste, “Thank you.”

Celeste quelled the flare of pride that rose up in her chest. She hadn’t done anything exceptional. She was merely borrowing Q’s powers. Nonetheless, she smiled and gave him a thumbs up. “Anytime!” She ran her finger pads along her ears. “Okay! This is probably safe. Does anyone know which characters they would like to play?”

Her three crewmates looked at each other, then back at her.

Worf spoke up, “I think I speak for all three of us when I say that we trust your judgement.”

Data mirrored Celeste’s thumbs-up, and Troi grinned and clapped Worf on the shoulder in agreement. Normally, this amount of responsibility on the first day of a new job would send Celeste into a spiral of anxiety. She wasn’t sure if the death adrenaline was still rushing through her body, or if she was feeling extra confident from her spontaneous magical girl transformation into Divinity Everglow, but right now, her senior crew’s trust in her filled Celeste with excitement and confidence.

“Thank you,” She said, her eyes landing on each of their faces, “I don’t know you all terribly well yet, but I’ve looked over your personnel files, and I’ve been doing my best to observe your behavior patterns as we’ve interacted. That’ll have to do. Worf,” The Klingon stood up a little straighter, “This is a no-brainer. You’re a tactician, you act quickly, and you can lead us in battle. You’ll be our fighter,” She checked the character sheet, “The Jagged Blade. Or it says here, Blade for short. Neat!”

No sooner had Celeste stated the fighter’s full name than Worf began to glow, and underwent a magical girl transformation of his own. Celeste felt a tingling warmth in her finger pads as Worf rose above the ground. Instead of an ethereal white and gold dress, Worf’s uniform morphed into a bold red asymmetrical swath of fabric draped over a grey shirt, a teal belt cinching the fabric at his waist. His uniform trousers loosened into black pants with gold trim, optimal for moving around with little resistance. He looked down at himself and shrugged.

“It’s flashy,” He said, “But this will work well during combat.”

Celeste could barely contain her excitement. She and Q must have been on the same wavelength, because Worf’s fighter outfit was exactly what she had been picturing. It was probably a bad sign that she had the same tastes as the entity who kidnapped their captain and trapped them in a game against their will, but Celeste decided to examine that later.

“Troi,” She said, “This might sound crazy because you come across as so level-headed and compassionate, but I think you’d be a good fit for the barbarian character. There’s a lot of emotional complexity surrounding the ability to channel your rage in combat, and I think you’re the only one who can handle it. So I’d like you to play Eclipse the Aberrant.”

Troi showed no hesitation as she rose into the air, embracing the gold glow and the shifting shapes. Her elegant silver and purple jumpsuit shifted into a shadowy violet cloak layered over a well-tailored but flexible fur-lined jacket. A pair of spiked leather cuffs wound their way around each of her biceps. An iron pauldron protected her right shoulder, adding to her outfit’s imposing aura. Stark white puffs of fur along her neckline contrasted against her dark hair, which had somehow grown longer and wilder.

The Counselor stared down at herself, jaw on the floor. She walked over to a full-length mirror along the wall, doing a full twirl to admire the outfit. “Wow,” she said softly before looking back at Celeste, “I’ve never felt this… powerful before,” She landed a test-punch on one of the Q-shaped training dummies, sending it crashing across the room, “That was satisfying.”

Worf, who had been staring at her unblinking for several seconds, looked away and cleared his throat. “Nice hit.”

Celeste looked into Data’s daffodil-yellow eyes. She found them a little less frightening now that she’d seen firsthand how considerate he was, but a grain of irrationality irritated the back of her brain. Lore’s kind and friendly facade was convincing at first. Celeste’s chest still burned with shame at how easily she’d been fooled back then. She shook the thoughts out of her head. This was a different situation entirely. Data had years of Starfleet records backing up his integrity. Besides, Lore would never have subjected himself to bodily harm to save anyone. She still remembered Data’s grip refusing to falter as her body burned everything she touched.

“I-I know there’s only one character left, Data, but I saved them for you for a reason.”

Data remained perfectly still, apart from his eyes slightly widening and head tilting as he spoke. “I await your analysis with intense alacrity.”

Celeste grinned at both his sentence’s precision, and the earnestness with which he spoke it. “Then I won’t keep you waiting anymore. For our bard, we need someone who is unparalleled in creative problem-solving. You’re able to strategize on a moment’s notice, and prioritize the safety and needs of the group,” She pulled a sword from a bin labeled SHARP RUSTY OBJECTS, GO AHEAD AND TOUCH, and gently tapped Data’s shoulders and head with it as if they were in a scene from one of Celeste’s favorite Earth fantasy novels, “I dub thee Ambience Nightingale!”

Data rose above the ground, the glowing golden aura enveloping his luminous pale skin until it obscured him from view entirely. His uniform shirt transformed into a loose-fitting blue top embroidered with vines, flowers, and stars. Black fabric embroidered with more flowers wrapped around his waist, nearly obscuring the trousers and boots beneath. He reached around, noticing a guitar strapped to his back.

“Ah!” The android exclaimed. He pulled the guitar out and strummed a few notes. Tiny golden stars blinked into existence around him as he played, “I appreciate this opportunity to pursue creativity. Thank you again, Celeste.”

A sense of warmth spread across Celeste’s chest at the soft wonder in Data’s voice, and the delicate way he ran his fingers along the guitar strings, eyes closed and face serious and focused. In her somewhat limited past research on androids, she’d found that most leading minds in the cybernetics community agreed that any artificial lifeforms would lack the capacity for feeling emotions. She was almost sure she’d seen evidence to the contrary, but that had never been a good thing before. However, she’d also met plenty of artists on her travels, and none had looked half as enraptured by their craft as Data did as he strummed a rich melody on his guitar. She added android artistry to the ever-growing list of research topics she’d follow up on after the mission.

Unless she got fired after the mission. Or if everyone perished under her guidance, or if Q got bored, or… Her nails dug into her palm pads. Now was not the time to think like that. She tried to force her mind back on track.

“All right, everyone,” The group gathered around Celeste, “Our best chance of getting Captain Picard home safely lies in our ability to avoid upsetting Q further. To do that, we’re going to have to engage in whatever scenarios he’s concocted as earnestly as we can. As soon as we step out that door, we are to call each other by our character names and treat whatever Q’s made up for us like it’s real. I know this isn’t fair to ask of everyone, but let’s do our best to get everyone out as efficiently and safely as possible,” She held out a hand to her crewmates, using a gesture from team-building exercises at Starfleet Academy. The idea of leading one of those exercises would normally frighten her, but this time, her heart pounded with more anticipation than anxiety, “Are you all with me?”

Counselor Troi was the first to place her hand over Celeste’s, squeezing it with a strength that made Celeste’s eyes water. “Every step of the way.”

Worf placed a combat-calloused hand atop the pile. “I will always fight beside my crew, no matter how difficult or humiliating the battle.”

Celeste felt the gentle weight of Data’s hand atop the pile. “I believe an appropriate human expression for this situation would be, ‘you can count on me.’”

Tears began to sting Celeste’s eyes. She blinked rapidly, hoping the sudden onslaught of emotions would ebb away before she started crying. To be treated like a part of a team like this… it was suddenly too much. “Th-thanks, guys,” She cleared her throat, hoping some levity would help her focus on the task at hand instead of her emotions, “Let’s do that morale-boosting cheer they taught us back at the Academy. When I say ‘What fleet,’ you say ‘Starfleet.’ What fleet?”

“Starfleet!” Everyone shouted, raising their hands in the air.

A faint smile tugged at Worf’s lips, “That brings me back.”

Counselor Troi, hyped up from the cheer, kicked over another training dummy as they headed toward the door, “Hitting those feels so cathartic. Maybe I should add a rage room in the back of my office and incorporate it into some of my sessions.”

“Now you see why I keep requesting to break things during therapy. It helps!” Exclaimed Worf.

Data opened the shop’s heavy oak door for Celeste with one clean swing. Feelings of hope and excitement blossomed in her chest as she smiled up at her crewmate, then led the way into the unknown.

Chapter Text

Data

Data did not believe an unknowable entity lurked deep within the fractal shadows of his circuitry. Capable of processing a multitude of sensory experiences simultaneously and deducing facts about the world around him based on his precise observations, his choice to believe that his decisions were his own kept him grounded in his own existence. 

However, even androids doubted themselves every now and then. He dismissed his current torrent of doubts as he had dismissed his internal temperature warnings while Celeste had burned in his arms. Doubts he himself did not comprehend had no place in a senior Starfleet officer’s head, especially when forced into an unfamiliar world fabricated by an all-powerful being who had already kidnapped his captain. Data instead focused on processing the deluge of new information all around him. After all, his observational skills and quick decision-making could make the difference between returning to the Enterprise with Captain Picard, or… Data shut that line of thinking down. Failure was not an option. 

Celeste’s bright aquamarine tail wound through the crowds clogging the cobblestone-lined streets outside Q’s magic shop. The android typically didn’t mind the deluge of sensory input caused by crowds, but dozens of unfamiliar species populated the streets shoulder-to-shoulder, jostling one-another to reach the open-air stands lining the plaza. Curiosity about his surroundings bloomed like the fragrant wisteria arches overhead. Without breaking pace with his crew, he stole a few milliseconds to study the bazaar’s flashy marble columns and overly elaborate domes and arches, the bustling market stalls, the disorganized heaps of leather-bound books behind each stall, and the way the buyers and sellers haggled over books for an undetermined currency. Data’s brief glance at the society filled him with yet more questions. He wondered if Q had made this up entirely, or if it were based on some real town on an unexplored planet.

A large pair of violet-clad reptilian folk shoved past Celeste, sending his new crewmate teetering into an ornate floral display arranged to look like an open book. She chirped in surprise as her claws dug into leaves and stems, ears pinned back and tail puffed up the way Spot’s did whenever Data vacuumed his quarters. 

Worf snarled at the two strangers, “Watch yourselves!”

Data offered her a hand. “Are you alright, Divinity?” He asked, remembering that question typically had a comforting effect on stressed junior engineers when Geordi checked in on them.

Celeste glanced at his arm, dilated pupils eclipsing most of her eyes. If anything, she appeared even more distressed. She smiled, which Data found to be contradictory to her concurrent biological fear signals. “Thanks, but you don’t need to worry about me, Commander,” Purple and white petals flew around her as she clawed her own way out of the display. 

Data buffered, confused about why her response deviated from her physiological symptoms. He diverted more processing power to this social interaction, attempting to synthesize the correct sequence of events that would ease Celeste’s discomfort. Many of his organic coworkers harbored some amount of prejudice against androids, especially before they grew accustomed to Data’s unusual appearance and mannerisms. Typically, if he proved his usefulness, most people who met him were eventually able to mostly look past his synthetic nature.

“Do you know what we’re looking for?” Asked Counselor Troi from behind Data. 

Celeste made a sound approximating “bwrrrt,” shaking petals and leaves out of her hair. “First, it’s good to just observe our surroundings and try and get some context for what we’re getting into. Q’s character and setting choices have been pretty stereotypical so far. Fitting with D&D tradition, I’m guessing we’ll find some sort of plot hook at the local tavern.”

Worf, who’d moved up in front of Celeste to intimidate the crowd into parting enough for their party to progress forward, looked back at the group. “Tavern,” he repeated, “like a bar?”

Celeste nodded at the same time as Data replied, “Correct, Lieutenant. Tavern is an archaic English word describing a facility engaging in the sale and consumption of alcohol, and often offers food and temporary lodging for a fee, as well,” He frowned, his sub-processing units attempting to keep up with his surroundings and the new ideas being presented to him. “Query: Why is it D and D tradition to find quest hooks at a tavern?”

Data’s mind raced to a few different stops before reaching its final destination: Guinan at Ten Forward. Guinan exemplified the desired traits of any excellent bartender: she listened openly without judgement, readily shared her own anecdotes when relevant, provided a wealth of knowledge on the ship’s social structure, and served alcoholic beverages (in Data’s experience, a positive correlation existed between volume of alcohol consumed and volume of gossip shared in most organic life-forms). 

An answer started to leave Celeste’s mouth, but Data interjected before she had to explain it. “Disregard previous query,” He told her, “I have made the connection.”

Before Data’s self-coded social program he always had running in the background could process whether interruption could have been inappropriate in this situation, Celeste’s face broke into a grin, and she gave him a thumbs-up. Data tilted his head to the side. In the twenty-three minutes and seventeen seconds he had known Celeste so far, she had given someone a thumbs-up gesture three times. He saved gesture thumbsup.gst into the new Lt.Clst file he’d been working on, under the “mannerisms” category, before repeating it back to her with his best approximation of her toothy half-smile.

Worf glared at Data in a way that would be described in classic literature as “withering” or “staring daggers.” The Lieutenant snapped, “Are you mocking her?”

Deanna sighed and massaged her temples. She had repeated that gesture twenty-two times since Q had first teleported onto the Bridge. Data knew that gesture signified that she was in pain, which made sense considering the proximity to Q and their recent high-stress situations. “Think, Worf. This is Data we’re talking about. Of course he isn’t-”

An arrow whizzed past Deanna’s ear. She jumped and yelled a Betazoid curse that Data only heard her use two times before, and the four of them scanned the crowd to see where the attack came from. Data immediately spotted four guards in various styles and colors of Venetian masks stationed along the roadway amongst the crowd, bronze armor reflecting the setting sun’s rose and orchid-colored hues. Each of them already had an arrow notched in their crossbows, and seemed to be waiting for the crowd to part enough to get a clean shot.

The aquamarine tips of Celeste’s ears all but disappeared in the now panicked crowd. If Data’s eyes couldn’t follow the trajectory of thousands of objects simultaneously, he might have immediately lost track of her nimble figure dodging and weaving around book-filled stands. He followed without issue, replacing falling books that Celeste knocked over in her wake. Worf and Troi didn’t seem to have trouble keeping up either, knocking over crates and display stands to slow their pursuers. 

As the four of them dodged behind a banner that read “High Arcane Researcher Quintilliam Quadrangle wants YOU to join the Great Knowledge Exchange,” Data noticed both Celeste and Troi snigger at the banner. Data diverted a fraction of his processing power to wonder what about the banner they found humorous.

An arrow thunked into a sluglike humanoid in the crowd next to Data. The gastropod let out a warble of pain and keeled over. Data scooped them up and darted after Celeste and the others into a secluded alley.

“I think,” Celeste panted as they rounded a corner into a side street so narrow they had to stand single file, “We lost them,” She looked over at the Counselor, “Sense anyone coming after us, Eclipse?”

Troi paused for a moment, closing her eyes and furrowing her brow. “There were so many minds in the crowd so it is hard to tell, but I think the guards seemed very disoriented by our evasive maneuvers. Wait,” She steadied herself on the cracked stone wall next to her, discomfort apparent on her face, “Why do I still sense distress?”

“Da- Ambience brought back one of our enemies,” Worf gestured to the terrified person-sized slug in Data’s arms, “Good thinking. Let’s interrogate it.”

Data knelt down, attempting to apply pressure to the arrow wound the same way he had done with Celeste’s spear wound earlier. It was much more difficult to maintain consistent pressure on the invertebrate’s injury. “I do not believe them to be hostile,” He looked up at Celeste, “They need our help.”

Data watched a novel’s worth of microexpressions flow across Celeste’s face in the span of a few seconds. With their subtlety, it was difficult to match her expressions to any known thoughts or emotions. She nodded at Data, bending down to the injured gastropod’s eyestalk level.

“Wh- you’re going to waste one of your limited healing spells on this NPC?” Said Worf with obvious tension in his voice. 

Something sparked in Celeste’s pale green eyes as she regarded Worf, a crooked smile revealing a hint of fang. “So you were paying attention to the character sheets earlier,” She looked back down at the slug, her odd (amused? mischievous?) expression softening to a face he had often seen on Dr. Crusher when treating a patient, “You’re going to be ok. I’m a Cleric. I’m going to have to touch you to help, is that ok?”

The slug’s eyestalks bobbled up and down in synchrony, unfocused pupils landing on Celeste and the rest of the crew. “Sounds goop… I mean good.”

Celeste held out a hand, a bioluminescent sheen of cobalt blue illuminating her previously deep purple skin markings, shining with the same light that healed Data’s burns and scratches before. Starlight radiated from her outstretched hands onto the arrow wound in the gastropod’s side. The wound closed up, the arrow clattering to the cobblestones below.

The slug person stretched and began to glide in a circle, gingerly at first, then more earnestly. Their antennae wiggled a few times before addressing Celeste, “Thank you very muck- I mean much! I’ve never been healed by divine magic before.”

“This is pretty goo for me, too,” said Celeste with a wink.

Data struggled to understand the meaning of that sentence. Could Celeste have misspoken? If she did, she needed to be aware of it to avoid a misunderstanding, “Did you mean it was pretty new for you?”

Celeste shook her head.

The slug craned their eyestalks toward Celeste, then smacked them together, causing their pupils to grow momentarily unfocused. “Splooped to meet you! The name’s Oblongathan Blorgle.”

“Likewise, Oblongathan! I’m Divinity Everglow. And these lovely people are my party,” Celeste stepped back, leaning against one of the stone walls, “Well, not my party. I’m the lowest-ranking one here.”

Oblongathan flopped to one side at a near 90 degree angle, their antennae almost touching the ground. Data could not hope to guess what any of Oblongathan’s gestures or expressions meant. “Rank? Are you fellow Thieves Guild members?” They brought a pseudopod to their face like a human would when stroking their chin thoughtfully, “That would explain why the Cogknights are after goo. Er- after you.”

Worf stepped toward Oblongathan, his hand on the sword strapped to his back. “I knew healing them was a bad idea, they’re a thief!”

Troi patted Worf’s arm. “It’s ok, W- uhhh Blade. They have no intention to harm us.”

Worf’s tense muscles relaxed, but his hand stayed close to his sword. He glanced sideways at Data, “Why did you bring them with us? We need to focus on getting our Captain back. This,” He said, gesturing to the arrow on the ground, “Doesn’t concern us.”

Data paused to consider Worf’s position. Why had he insisted on helping Oblongathan? He hadn’t concerned himself with any potential consequences when the arrow hit them; taking Oblongathan to Celeste for healing simply made sense. It troubled Data that he could not name which piece of programming dictated this snap decision. He seemed to be making similarly sudden choices that he could not explain more often recently. When did this pattern first emerge? That was a larger question for later. However much its source concerned him, Data could not argue with the results. 

“I disagree, Mr. The Jagged Blade,” Data said after a three second eternity of contemplation, “The guards were clearly after us, and Oblongathan was caught in the crossfire. If it were not for us, they would not have been hurt.”

Worf narrowed his eyes in thought, then sighed. “Civilian casualties are indeed dishonorable,” He held out a hand to Oblongathan, who touched it with a pseudopod. Data noticed Worf’s eye twitch as he touched the gastropod’s slimy surface, “The Jagged Blade. Fighter. You already met Divinity, and the woman next to me is Eclipse. And the one who carried you to safety is-”

“Ambience Nightingale, yes, I’ve seen all of your wanted posters around town,” Interrupted Oblongathan.

Celeste’s eyes widened and ears perked up. “Ooh, there are wanted posters of us?”

“That explains why those masked knights were so intent on pursuing us,” mused Troi.

Worf grunted in agreement. “If we stay here too long, they’re going to find us again.”

Celeste turned to Oblongathan. “You’re in the Thieves Guild. Do you know anywhere we could both hide from the Cognknights you mentioned and gather information about the goings-on in the area?” Her tail rose up in the same question mark shape as Spot’s did when she knew Data was about to play with her, “Some sort of secret thief tavern, perhaps?”

The gastropod’s eyestalks bounced up and down. “A partner of mine runs a speakeasy on the edge of the Underpage. They’ll totally let you in if I say you’re with me. This way,” They began crawling down the alley, moving much more quickly than Data would have expected such a method of ambulation would allow.

Worf murmured to Troi. “Do you still think they mean us no harm?”

“I mostly just feel gratitude from Oblongathan,” Her voice lowered further, “They’re also very intimidated by us, and moderately embarrassed."

Data raised an eyebrow as they followed Oblogathan down the alleyways. He called to Troi, who was a little ways ahead of him, “What reason is there for Oblongathan to be intimidated and embarrassed?"

Troi raised a finger to her lips, but the damage had already been done.

“Excuse me?” Oblongathan huffed, squirming forward even more quickly.

Data frowned, puzzled. “Was that an inappropriate question?”

Celeste, who had been walking at a more leisurely pace, wide eyes lingering on every detail of their surroundings, matched Data’s pace. “Inappropriate is subjective,” She seemed very interested in the complex brickwork just behind Data’s head as she spoke, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A long metal staircase slithered up the side of one of the buildings. It shook and creaked beneath their weight. Data wished he had his tricorder to calculate the ladder’s integrity, but he had to remain satisfied with his own estimations.

“You work with new societies and regularly navigate rules that are not intuitive to you” Data observed, “How do you navigate those rules and avoid causing discomfort to those around you?” He hoisted himself onto the roof.

The building’s roof sloped toward Q’s city on one side, but the ground on the other side plummeted downwards and out of sight. Pink and orange clouds floated past far below. Data was not sure whether the clouds were moving, the city was moving, or both. A strong gust of wind buffeted the group, displacing Data’s optimally-styled hair. He attempted to fix it as he surveyed the view.

Paying no mind to the view, Oblongathan coiled up and sprung across a ledge between two buildings. Worf and Troi leapt over the gap with ease, chatting amongst themselves. Data prepared to join them, but Celeste held a hand in front of him before he could jump.

For the first time, she looked him in the eyes without a hint of reservation. He diverted more power to synthesizing Celeste’s facial expression. Her eyes were soft as if she were smiling, but the rest of her face suggested a gravity that he failed to understand.

“It can be hard sometimes,” she said softly, “To feel like an outsider wherever you go. I never stop studying. Every interaction is an opportunity to learn and reflect,” Celeste stared into the lavender haze that had begun to settle in the sky, reaching out a hand to grasp toward nothing, “Give yourself some grace.”

Data, too, reached his hand toward the empty violet sky, unsure of the gesture’s significance. “Is my difficulty navigating emotions and social rules not a failure of my programming? Or perhaps a shortcoming of my synthetic nature?”

Another gust of wind flew through Celeste’s hair. She leaned into the wind, allowing her hair to fly haphazardly around her face. “How do I word this?” She stared up at a pair of stars winking into existence overhead, then looked back at Data, “I’ve been deeply wrong about people before, so take my opinion with a grain of salt-”

Data was about to ask her what that meant, but Celeste answered before the words left his mouth, “Expression. Sorry. It means to treat my opinions with skepticism.”

“I have found your observations and ideas to be quite astute so far. Forgive me if I lack the skepticism you deem appropriate,” Apologized Data.

Celeste smiled, but her smile did not reach her eyes. Her ears lowered, “I don’t think anything about you is a shortcoming or failure. There’s nothing wrong with you,” she looked at him one more time before growing tense and taking a small step backwards. Celeste poised herself to leap across the gap. Her tail motioned for Data to follow, the tension leaving her face as quickly as it had appeared, “Bet you can’t beat me to the rest of the group.”

She vaulted herself between the roofs, but immediately smacked face-first into a wall on the other side. “Oof. I’m ok!” She got up and continued running.

Data momentarily paused to process their interaction. Her body and face sent so many different, conflicting emotional signals. Behind her kind and self-assured demeanor, something seemed to be bothering her. He suspected that something had to do with him. He had seen quickly-suppressed microexpressions of fear when she looked at him, especially at first. Up until this point, Data had been convinced that Celeste was simply not used to working with an artificial life-form. He had prepared himself for the usual mistrust and annoyance with his lacking social skills, prepared himself to make concessions until she felt comfortable.

However, the recent conversation between the two of them just confused him even further. Could Celeste herself relate to Data’s own social struggles? Did some biological life-forms have the organic equivalent of a social program, constantly running in the background throughout every interaction? Could this possibly mean that Data was slightly closer to parts of the human experience than he had previously thought?

There’s nothing wrong with you. Celeste’s voice was even and relaxed. It was highly probable that she genuinely believed what she’d told him. Data grasped the metal railing separating the city from the clouds below, causing the iron bar to bend and squeak in protest, unsure whether he believed Celeste’s words with the same conviction that she did.

“Hey, slowpoke,” Called Celeste from several meters away, “You’re not giving me much of a competi- whoaaa” She wobbled on a thin wall, “I’m fine, don’t worry!”

Data recorded more information on his ever-growing Lnt.Clst file. She was prone to physical accidents. She was competitive, but only at certain times. She appeared empathetic to those lacking empathy.

Data leapt, flipped, and bounded effortlessly across the rooftops, catching up to Celeste in approximately 1.33 seconds. “My apologies. I was, to use a human expression, lost in thought. Besides,” he said as he passed her, “I thought you could use the head start.”

Chapter Text

Celeste gasped for air as she sprinted alongside the group, trying not to think about the dizzyingly far drop parallel to their path. As the group scrambled over a slender parapet, she risked a glance downward, expecting to see nothing except a plush layer of dusty magenta and blue-violet clouds. The detail and depth Q seemed to have written into this world, however, continued to surprise her. The shadow the city cast onto the clouds below began to scatter onto thin wisps of stratus, revealing a world underneath. A flat expanse of land, glowing in the peach and lavender sunset haze slowly crept along beneath them. Her mind began to spin at the possibilities. Were all of Q’s creations crafted with such care and realism?

A hand yanking Celeste backwards like a scruffed cat snapped her from her reverie.

“You’re going to fall if you keep leaning over the edge like that,” Worf reprimanded as he helped steady her, making sure she was far enough away from the drop.

Shaking out the fog that had been condensing in her head, Celeste broke into a modest jog alongside him and the others, pushing past the ache that began to take hold in her legs and chest. She felt her face heat up, and not just because she wasn’t used to running this much. “Sorry!” When Worf didn’t react to her apology, she added, “I think we’re in some sort of city floating over the surface of a planet or something,” she opened her mouth to continue, but one look at Worf’s forward-facing scowl shut her down. She didn’t want to risk annoying one of her first potential friends on the Enterprise.

Oblongathan disappeared through a skylight a little ways ahead of them. The gastropod had been silent since Data’s accidental social blunder. Celeste felt a sharp pang in her chest, and it wasn’t just a memory from being stabbed or a cramp from running. Although she was also developing a cramp from running.

After descending yet another long ladder down a narrow stone tower packed with crates of paper and glass bottles of violet liquid, they found themselves in a cylindrical room lined with windows that looked out over the city’s skyline. Shades of bronze and grey stone reflected the fading golden light. Celeste noticed a few more towers like this one in the distance, accompanied by domes and stone arches packed so tightly they were nearly on top of each other. The city itself, she realized, was actually fairly small. From this vantage point, she could see where most of it dropped off into the sunset. She hazarded a guess that the whole area spanned roughly the same amount of space as Enterprise. Her eyes accidentally locked with Data’s as she started to shift her focus back to her immediate surroundings. He had also been studying the view, no doubt having found more pertinent information than she did. She instinctively looked away as quickly as she could, mentally kicking herself for doing so.

Based on the stacks of crates overflowing with reams of paper, Celeste initially assumed the room they just entered to be a small warehouse or storage area of sorts. Then she noticed the central stairwell leading downwards into an unlit hallway. Next to the stairs, perched on a pile of crates, sat a small but solidly-built bearded person holding a candle up to an open book. They snapped their book shut as more and more people descended into the cramped space.

“Password?” Their wary bloodshot eyes quickly passed over each newcomer. Just like she had done with Worf earlier that day, Celeste stood perfectly still, allowing the person to size her up.

Oblongathan crossed their pseudopods. “Come on, Ms. Gronda. Goo know me,” Celeste was pretty sure the slug person still sounded miffed. Something about the tension in their voice made Celeste edge slightly away from them, even though she knew they weren’t upset with her.

Gronda gave the gastropod an exasperated huff, passing a final look of longing at the book she had set down and running a hand through her undercut, “Yeah, I know that every job we give you goes whiskers up, if you catch my drift. I’m not giving you and your new goons any special treatment.”

So Oblongathan carried out jobs for their thieves’ guild. The slug was either not the best at their job, or something shady was going on with them. Shadier than a criminal organization, at least. Based on their seemingly low rapport with this society’s criminal group, relying on Oblongathan to help them obtain information on Captain Picard’s whereabouts seemed unreliable. Time to pivot. “Strategy huddle,” Celeste motioned for everyone to join her, gently guiding them into a circle.

“What are we doing?” Worf demanded.

Troi grinned, raising an eyebrow conspiratorially at Celeste as if the Counselor were a full telepath and was in on Celeste’s plan, “If I had to guess, I’d say we’re about to strategize, Blade,” Troi laughed quietly.

“If we are attempting to keep the others from hearing our plans, this is not a very effective way to block sound,” Data pointed out at full volume. Upon hearing himself speak, his brow furrowed, “Ah,” he said more softly, “My apologies.”

More warmth bloomed across Celeste’s face. She swallowed and forced herself to continue with her plan despite her sudden realization of how ridiculous this was. “This might not be the perfect way to hide information from others while we brainstorm,” she admitted, “Gathering around to discuss strategy in the middle of an active scene is a common D&D trope. Bear with me, old habits and all that,” She lowered her voice and hoped the NPCs’ perception scores were lower than her character’s admittedly subpar stealth abilities, “Anyway, to get into the speakeasy, we might either be able to charm the bouncer with our charisma, or intimidate her into letting us in, which is also charisma-based but more…threatening.”

Worf’s eyes widened at Celeste, his face lighting up with an excitement that Celeste hadn’t seen on him yet. “Permission to intimidate?”
Celeste couldn’t help but smile. One of her favorite aspects of Dungeons and Dragons was how creative and expressive it allowed players to get when problem solving, often encouraging them to explore solutions that would not be possible in real life. Still, she was not Worf’s superior officer. She did not have the audacity to grant him permission to do anything, least of all on her first day. Celeste glanced at Data. “Sir?” She asked.

Data tilted his head a couple of times. Celeste had already begun to get used to this mannerism of his. Thankfully, he began speaking in Celeste’s hushed volume, “As Starfleet officers, we have a duty to reason with others and avoid verbal or physical altercations when possible. However, Q’s artificial world presents an unusual ethical question to which I am uncertain of the answer. Do we operate within our usual principles in the face of our fabricated settings?”

Troi’s eyes grew distant, deep in thought. “Hmmmm. Q does like to test us, especially to see if we abide by our own rules. Besides, I know Captain Picard would want us to strive to use every alternative to violence first.”

Worf’s face fell. “Have you all forgotten the fact that Q has created this entire world in a fit of petty rage? Kidnapping a Starfleet officer, let alone a Captain, is considered an act of war. Violence is more than warranted.”

A subtle furrow in Data’s brow suggested that he was synthesizing his crewmates’ points. “Both of your perspectives hold merit,” His head tilted toward Celeste, “You are most familiar with this game, and with navigating unfamiliar societies. Do you have any ideas on how we should proceed, Ms. Everglow?”

Celeste met Data’s measured golden gaze. It was becoming easier to look him in the eye without automatically picturing his face suddenly contorting into Lore’s vengeful sneer. Her growing comfort with her new crewmate, along with his trust in her, bolstered her confidence. “Yes. While I do think it’s in the spirit of the game to treat the NPCs as their own people and not extensions of Q, I also think it can be beneficial to explore more morally ambiguous tactics as long as we’re engaging our characters and the world in a genuine way. I say go for it!”

Worf nodded, and they disbanded the huddle. The spark of excitement had returned to his eyes, and gave Celeste a curt nod. He strode up to the woman, hands reaching for the greatsword strapped to his back. He looked down at Gronda, dark eyes alight with a fury that Celeste suspected had been building up ever since the two of them first walked in on Q’s bridge shenanigans. “Your little organization is irrelevant to me. The only thing I care about is the fact that you’re standing between us and our Captain. Would you like to find out what I do to people who stand in my way?”

Gronda’s eyes momentarily flicked longingly to the book she had left on her crate stack before she rolled them, “My whole job is to stand in the way of people like you,” She pulled a hidden dagger out of her beard, “Password, or your little quest to find your precious Captain ends right here.”

Completely ignoring the knife to his throat, Worf lifted Gronda by her shirt collar, “My threats are not meant to be taken lightly.”

Gronda met Worf’s eyes for a few seconds, both of their expressions blazing with an intensity that would have vaporized Celeste on the spot had she been on the other end of either one. Finally, Gronda sighed, her dagger clattering to the floor.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” She said, “You and your group of clowns can head down to the All Nighter Speakeasy. Otto isn’t going to be pleased with me, but he can shove it in a crate.”

Worf set Gronda down, practically glowing with pride and satisfaction. Celeste couldn’t help but smile so wide her fangs glinted in the candlelight, and she noticed Troi started smiling a couple of seconds after she did. She glanced over at Data, who broke into a cartoonish grin when he saw Celeste and Troi’s faces. The unnatural wideness of his smile would be unnerving to some, but Celeste couldn’t help but find Data’s attempts to mirror the expressions and mannerisms of others rather endearing. Lore smiled far more naturally, but his expressions were all turbulent, and tended to mask his true feelings and intentions. Data, from what Celeste had seen so far, seemed to struggle more with expressing himself, but everything he did at least appeared earnest. If it was truly earnest remained to be seen.

Gronda pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “You guys concern me. Get outta here before I change my mind,” She picked up her book and started trying to find where she’d left off. She turned to Oblongathan, who had been slowly inching down the stairs into the speakeasy. The gastropod froze. Gronda raised an eyebrow at Oblongathan, who acknowledged her with the slightest bob of their head. Before following Oblongathan down the stairs, Celeste noticed Data not-very-subtly sneak a glance at Gronda’s book. He nodded in approval, but Gronda pointedly ignored him.

About halfway down the stairs, Deanna pulled Celeste aside. The two of them let the rest of the group walk a little ways away.

Dim torchlight reflected a deeply-haunted gleam in Deanna’s eyes. Concern weighed on her softly-illuminated features. “Are you alright, Councillor?”
“I’m ok. This mission is honestly a nice change of pace so far. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather the Captain not be held hostage, but I don’t think Q will hurt him unless we mess something up. Q seems to care about him, whatever that means to a being like Q,” She glanced over her shoulder, back up the stairwell, then spoke in a low whisper, “Don’t react to what I’m about to tell you.”

Celeste’s stomach tightened, anxiety causing her pupils to widen until the spiky, fur-lined silhouette of Deanna’s armor came into focus from the shadows. “Ok,” she peeped, a small chitter of concern escaping her throat.

“Gronda and Oblongathan are hiding something from us. I sense extreme ill intent from both of them.”

Celeste fidgeted with her left ear with one hand, and clung to the railing with the other. Her claws involuntarily unsheathed, digging into her cartilage. “I thought you said Oblongathan didn’t want to hurt us.”

Deanna shrugged. “They didn’t earlier. Something changed.”

The swell of off-key string instruments and bursts of cheers and laughter from further down the stairs interrupted Celeste’s train of thought. She nodded at Troi as they continued their descent together. “Thank you,” she hoped the sudden rise of drinking songs from below covered her voice and hammering heart, “Let’s be careful.”

Most societies that ate or drank socially had some kind of tucked-away place with a slightly more relaxed atmosphere that fit loosely under the Earth definition of a speakeasy. No matter what they were walking into, Celeste had expected the All Nighter to have that laid-back air, perhaps a place where Q’s thief NPCs could wind down after a long day of stealing books or whatever they did here. The noisy echoes from the stairwell warned her that the establishment may be rowdier than its namesake had led her to believe.

When her legs started to feel like they were about to collapse from descending the seemingly-infinite spiral stairs, Celeste barely had the time or space to catch her breath before the sights and sounds of the speakeasy assaulted her senses. Ten Forward would have dwarfed this room, but this area was more packed with patrons than she figured the Enterprise’s dining hall would ever be. A bar in the center took up most of the space, and a handful of tables lined the room’s cylindrical walls. Groups of ruffians playing instruments over one another, and drunken dancing took up what little space was left. None of the bar patrons acknowledged the floor’s shudders and groans in response to each irregular step or movement. The All Nighter’s glass floor revealed the thinning clouds and the ground far below. Just when Celeste thought she could make out more details in the ground’s sloping sand dunes, all of the music and drunken song around them halted, leaving only the grating call of wind against stone, metal, and glass.

“How does this structure stay aloft?” Celeste heard Data murmur next to her. She noticed his eyes darting over every support beam and glass panel and bit of furniture before flicking up to the stairwell and down to the view below.

It was a valid question that Celeste had been wondering herself, although she knew that if she allowed herself to wonder how the mostly glass room stayed intact and the city stayed afloat, she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. She wasn’t an android who could rapidly entertain dozens of streams of thoughts and questions simultaneously. Instead of following up on the question, Celeste settled for meeting Data’s eyes and giving him a thoughtful nod.

Data’s head snapped forward. “My apologies,” he said.

Celeste began to wonder what he was apologizing for when her thoughts were once again interrupted.

“Who let you lot in here?” demanded the bartender, who Celeste recognized as a humanoid dragon covered in black scales, twin horns branching out of his elongated reptilian skull. He peered at the newcomers with narrowed amber eyes through a pair of half-moon spectacles. Something about his expression made it feel like cracks were forming in the glass beneath Celeste’s feet.
Celeste immediately tried to begin strategizing. They would ideally need someone with a high charisma modifier to help smooth things over with this grouchy-sounding bartender. Data’s character Ambience had the highest charisma score, but given what happened with Oblongathan, that might not be the best idea. She looked around for Oblongathan, wondering if the gastropod would vouch for them. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Oblongathan sneaking toward a corner and hiding behind a support pillar.

Celeste plastered a smile onto her face and stuck out her chest despite the onslaught of anxiety from the crowd and the bartender’s scrutinizing stare. “Sorry for the intrusion, Sir! I promise we’ll be out of your hair… oops… out of your scales before you know it.”

A smoke ring rose from the bartender’s nostrils as he grunted. “What I want to know is why the group that’s been stirring up so much trouble in Quillsdale is in my scales to begin with,” he slammed a flagon of ale on the bar to emphasize his point, “This is a speakeasy for thieves! You’re going to lead the guards here and endanger my clientele!”
With the mention of the guards, some of the bar patrons began to whisper to one-another. A handful began to trickle out the door. Those who remained eyed the newcomers with expressions that ranged from curiosity to annoyance to something a little more sinister that made Celeste’s skin crawl. A hint of antennae in the crowd reminded Celeste of the Counselor’s warning in the stairwell.

Worf rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because there was no way a guard could have gotten through your excellent security system before.”

A group of creatures made of vines and tree roots who had been previously playing variously-sized hand drums giggled to one-another. Celeste smiled inwardly. Worf was the only Klingon she knew who frequently expressed himself with sarcasm. She made a mental note to follow up on that later.

The bartender’s tone pitched up and lost some of its hostile growl as he pushed his glasses higher up on his dragon snout. “Wait, what’s wrong with the All Nighter’s security system?”

Worf glanced at Celeste, a question in his eyes. She gave him a thumbs-up.

“A secret thief bar with an entrance in a warehouse protected by a single underpaid bouncer and a password? You’re just asking for a security breach,” scoffed Worf, “I happen to be the Enterprise’s Chief of Security. I can offer you some pointers in exchange for a little respect.”

The bartender snorted, a cloud of smoke and embers blowing out of his nostrils and settling on the glass cup he had been polishing. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a clean cloth from a neatly-folded pile next to the dish rack and started wiping it down again. “I’m interested,” a hint of a deep earthy growl entered his voice as he continued, “You’re not a cop though, are you?”

Worf raised an eyebrow at the rest of the party, the indignation on his face replaced by genuine confusion. “A cop?”

“Accessing,” Data began, his eyes rapidly darting back and forth as he searched through his internal database. His face lit up. “Ah! Cop: an informal 21st Century Earth term referring to a law enforcement officer, characterized by excessive violence and disproportionate policing of marginalized communities. Said law enforcement system was discontinued in the reconstruction following the Post-Atomic Era and replaced with a nonviolent, community-centered policing model that is still used across Starfleet today. Synonyms for cop include police, fuzz, pigs, bacon, oinkers, et cetera. The term ACAB stands for All Cops Are Bast-”

The dragon man erupted into a roaring belly laugh. “Ahaha, wow. A man after my own heart,” he poured lavender-colored liquid into a shotglass, singed it with his fire breath, then handed it to Data as the fire died down, “Anyone who hates the cops is welcome here.”

Celeste stared into the smoldering liquid, breathing in a faint scent that resembled a mixture between overly-toasted marshmallows and a forest in spring. She mentally reprimanded herself for initially writing off Data’s and Worf’s abilities to smooth over this social situation. Different kinds of approaches worked in different situations, she should have known that. As hard as Celeste constantly tried to adapt her approach to each situation, both men had quickly de-escalated things with the bartender simply by being themselves. She needed to try harder.

Data peered at the glass against the fading sunlight, swirled it around, and sniffed it before downing the whole thing without reacting to the flavor. “Thank you. However, I was simply providing-”

Deanna placed a gentle hand on the android’s chest before turning to the bartender. “Yes, none of us here care for cops. We all work on a ship. My friend Blade here is in charge of keeping it safe.”

Celeste’s chest ached as she watched Data expressionlessly step into the background. She didn’t blame Deanna, but Celeste couldn’t shake her concern about how often people around Data interrupted him. She didn’t know how to help at this moment, so she patted his shoulder. Data started at the unexpected physical contact, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly, and his hand reached toward her, a wordless request for permission. Celeste nodded, and he gave her shoulder a light pat in return.

The dragon man poured the rest of them purple shots that he subsequently set on fire with this breath. “Hmmm. A ship’s crew with a distaste for law enforcement and an active bounty out for your heads. You guys pirates?”

Earthy notes of violet and some herbs Celeste couldn’t name burned in her throat as she sipped the drink. Under normal circumstances, such a strong drink would probably make her gag, or at least make a face. However, Divinity Everglow’s Constitution was nothing to sneeze at. It was not the drink that made her ears pin back and claws scrape the glass, but the idea of being a pirate. With every muscle in her body tensing up, she stared down past the clouds into the hazy desert, trying to focus on pinpointing additional details in the landscape.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Deanna lied, “And our Captain is missing. That’s why we’re out here and not… you know…” she began to flounder.

“Pillaging, plundering, singing shanties, or illegally downloading television shows online,” finished Data.

Celeste focused on trying to regulate her breathing. This was for D&D. Everything here was pretend. She would never be coerced into joining a pirate crew again, not in real life, at least.

“Something the matter?” Worf muttered so quietly that only Celeste’s sensitive ears could pick it up.

Celeste leaned against a metal support beam in an attempt to look casual, secretly grateful for Worf’s concern, but simultaneously guilty that he had to divert his attention away from the mission for her wellbeing. “You know me. I love pillaging and plundering. Can’t get enough of the stuff!” She turned to the dragon guy, trying to force her voice to sound even, “Anyway, have you heard any intel on anyone getting kidnapped or arrested, or where they might be taken if they were?”

Worf narrowed his eyes, and Deanna placed a comforting hand on her arm. Data blinked at her in confusion, and, if Celeste didn’t know any better, concern.

“I’ll give you the scoop as long as your friend with the big sword upholds his word on those security tips,” Promised the bartender, “The name’s Otto, by the way. Owner and purveyor of the All Nighter,” Otto motioned for the group of carnivorous plant people currently sitting at the bar to move.

The dryads got up without question, and Otto invited Celeste and the others to sit at the now-vacant seats. It went without saying that Otto had a significant amount of status within this criminal den.

He would be a valuable ally. Thinking about allies reminded her once again of Troi’s warning. Celeste glanced around the room, looking for any sign of a humanoid slug. She couldn’t see him anywhere. She looked at Troi, placing two fingers on top of her head to mimic slug antennae.

Troi shrugged, and Worf shot the two of them a confused look. Data mimicked Celeste’s pantomimed antennae, which made her smile in spite of herself.

“No need to be shy, sit down!” Otto gestured to the now empty seats. Celeste obliged with a word of thanks, the others following close behind. The bartender poured all of them another round of purple shots, lighting each with his fire breath before handing them over, “Do people as liquor-savvy as pirates enjoy our local early grey wildflower whiskey?”

Worf gagged after taking his shot, “Not at all,” he admitted.

Otto laughed. “Understandable! It’s certainly not for the faint of heart.”

Worf scoffed. “Pour me another.”
Deanna crossed her arms. “Worf,” she reprimanded gently but firmly, “We talked about this.”

“We are deeply grateful for your hospitality. I’ve had my fair share of drinks from all over, and this is genuinely one of my favorites. I really enjoy floral flavors, myself,” said Celeste. She was incredibly grateful for Divinity’s excellent constitution. Normally downing two shots in a row was enough to muddle her mind, but now, she was thinking clearly as ever.

“Although I am incapable of telling whether or not a drink tastes good, your whiskey has a complex, well-balanced, if unusual, flavor profile,” said Data, still showing no physical response to his second shot, “Our Captain would probably be quite fond of it. He is partial to earl grey tea.”

Otto’s sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light as he smiled. “Looks like you’ll have to come back here and celebrate after you find him. Give him a taste of Quillsdale’s signature drink. We’ve actually ramped up production for the Great Knowledge Exchange, it’s been exhausting. You all aren’t the only reason security’s been so high, you know.”

Worf threw back another drink despite Deanna’s growing concern. “Quite a few guards were stationed at that market area. It did seem like they were on alert, preparing for something.”

“Not to mention that strange poster,” Deanna pointed out.

“Oh yeah!” said Celeste, “The one with that guy with the funny name. What was it… Quincy or Quagley or something? Heheh. Quagley.” Maybe the two shots were getting to her after all.

“Quintilliam Quadrangle,” corrected Data, “The High Arcane Researcher.”

Celeste giggled. “That name is funnier than I remember,” yup, she definitely failed her second constitution save despite her high stats, and the bar to make her laugh was now much lower.

Otto rolled his eyes. “Oh my Q, don’t remind me. The Exchange is great for business in some regards, but the sooner we get away from that absolute egghead, the better.”

Data and Worf exchanged quizzical looks. “Egghead?” they both asked at the same time.

Celeste tried and failed to suppress a laugh, holding onto one of the spikes on Deanna’s shoulder armor. This time, Deanna let out a slight chuckle, as well.

“Right, I forgot you guys weren’t from around here. It just means that he’s a pretentious egomaniac on a power trip. This Exchange, he’s planning on doing some crazy science experiment that’s going to bind some poor guy’s soul with his for all eternity. I have no idea what that means and I don’t get hung up on the ethics of his mad science, but I am glad he’s not doing it to one of my people.”

The whole group exchanged knowing looks.

“What kind of twisted regime allows something like this?” Demanded Worf.

Otto shrugged. “Look, you guys probably know just as well as I do, but Questvia Kingdom is corrupt as anything. As long as Quadrangle has a steady supply of people to arrest, he can get away with all kinds of unethical experiments on his subjects. That’s why we take such great pains to avoid getting arrested. That reminds me, what did you need to know so you can hurry up and give me those pointers and get out of here?”

“Where does Quintilliam Quadrangle keep his test subjects?” Asked Data, “And do you know the layout and defense capabilities of such a facility?”

Otto laughed again. “Well obviously in his evil arcane laboratory that Quillsdale is about to dock at for the Great Knowledge Exchange! But why would you need to,” his amber eyes widened in realization, “Ohhh. I don’t want any part in that. We stay out of Quadrangle’s business, and Quadrangle leaves our guys alone. Usually.”

“He doesn’t have to know you helped us,” said Celeste, “The second we leave, we’ll never mention the All Nighter again!”

Otto shook his head. “He has ways of finding out,” he shuddered, “Your Captain’s as good as gone. Hey, on the bright side, you don’t have to share your pirate treasure with as many people without him.”

Worf lunged forward in his chair. He likely would have tackled Otto if Data hadn’t immediately grabbed the back of his shirt to hold him back, immediately halting his momentum with a single hand.
“We would never dishonor Captain Picard like that,” shouted the Klingon.

A disinterested jet of steam hissed out of Otto’s nostrils.

“What he meant to say,” interjected Deanna, “Was that our Captain is very important to us.”

“Surely some value system has to be holding everything in your crime association in place. Well-defined structures like this don’t just maintain themselves,” observed Celeste, “To be honest, some of your people seem like they’re feeling unappreciated and are not receiving equal benefits to what they’re bringing to the table. You may not be able to completely empathize with our concerns, but our captain’s crew will stop at nothing to save him. You wanted to learn how to run a tighter ship? Listen to your people’s concerns and needs, and stand up to those who threaten them.” A violet blush settled over Celeste’s face as she heard herself speak so confrontationally. Normally, she would need more time getting to know someone before being that upfront, but she suspected the alcohol had lowered some of her usual conversational guardrails. Good. She didn’t have time to concern herself with offending anyone.

Otto stared at her in silence for a moment, his third eyelid slowly blinking closed and open again, his mouth hanging slightly open. He snuck glances at the rest of the crew to see how they reacted to Celeste’s outburst. Deanna and Worf were watching her with a sort of stoic pride that made Celeste blush even more and avoid their eyes. Data stared at her with eyes wide with surprise and something softer that Celeste could not place.

After a moment, the bartender let out a sigh. “Your idealism is going to get you killed out here. Get going before you drag the rest of us down with-”

The sound of wingbeats cut him off. His eyes widened with terror before his scaly face set into his well-fitting mask of grim nonchalance. He looked around the bar. “Emergency exit, all of you!” He barked.

Everyone who had remained in the bar started toward the exit, some people scrambling and crawling over others, and some calmly filing forward, keeping the stragglers in line. As chaotic of a system as it was, it seemed oddly efficient. Celeste noticed a hint of a slime trail from the crowd. Otto stayed at the bar. He began to rummage around drawers, and some hidden compartments with glowing dials and blinking levers emerged around the bar.

“You’re not leaving, too?” Asked Celeste.

Otto ignored her, instead flipping a set of switches that started a deep humming sound in the room’s metal frame all around them, puffs of steam sporadically emanating from the joints in the metal.

“It’s us they want,” She continued, “Get out of here!”

Otto growled, “I will in about thirty seconds. Go get yourselves killed somewhere else.”

Worf crossed his arms. “We will not run from this fight.”

Deanna nodded, “We won’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

The wingbeats grew louder, and Celeste saw eight Cogknights riding small dragons whose colors matched their bright Venetian masks. They were each about five yards away, and closing in quickly.

“They’ve been expecting us,” observed Deanna, “They’re all frazzled and confused, and got here in a hurry. I believe they are responding to information they received recently.”

“Oblongathan,” growled Celeste, “But why…”

The dragons got closer and closer.

“They’re going to ram the floor,” warned Worf.

Celeste racked her brain for a way to get out of this. Diplomatic immunity? They were probably past that.

“Everyone grab a metal support beam,” Data commanded, “The five around the bar are the most stable. Brace for impact!”

Celeste obeyed and hugged a support beam as the glass around them shattered, sending tables and chairs and glasses plummeting down to the desert below. The roar of dragons and screeching shards of glass and metal in the wind overloaded Celeste’s sensitive ears. She gripped the metal support beam for all she was worth, feeling the steel slip beneath her claws.