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The bridge was still smoking slightly. Literally. Glitter coated every surface. Farm animals wandered freely between stations: at that moment alone, a chicken, two goats, and a pig could be seen.
Picard stood stern, hands clasped behind his back, a statue. "Q. Care to explain your motivations here?"
"I was bored, Jean-Luc! Your ship is so serious all the time. I thought you needed more… whimsy." Q lounged in the Captain's chair, feet up. “So I made a few tiny improvements—"
"You turned the warp core into a bouncy castle."
"And the crew seemed to enjoy it! Geordi spent twenty minutes in there—"
"Because he was trapped, Q! He was bouncing involuntarily!"
Riker cleared his throat, trying to brush glitter out of his beard. "Q, this is beyond your usual disruptions. You've essentially turned a Starfleet vessel into a... a..."
“Madhouse,” Troi finished. Riker nodded.
"The pig seems happy." Q gestured to where a pig was contentedly rooting through Worf's tactical station. To say Worf did not look pleased was an understatement. "Really, Jean-Luc, where's your sense of humor? Your childish wonder?"
"My sense of humor," Picard gritted, "is currently buried under seventeen damage reports and a bruised ensign who was butted by one the goats you materialized."
"Bruised dignity at most—"
"Q." Picard took a step forward, his voice dropping to that tone that even made meeker admirals straighten their posture. "You continue to test my patience! This was reckless, dangerous, and utterly without purpose—"
"Oh, mon Capitaine!" Q clutched his chest dramatically. "All this trouble I cause you! All this chaos! I'm sure it drives you absolutely mad!"
He stood, and there was something in his eyes. Something eager.
"I certainly hope you don't drag me off to that ready room of yours and... oh, I don't know..." He paused, voice dropped to something that could only be described as pointed, "spank me for being such a naughty omnipotent being."
The bridge went completely silent.
Data's head tilted. Worf's hand slipped off his console. Counselor Troi blinked.
Riker slowly turned to look at Q.
Then at Picard.
Then back at Q.
"Q," Riker said carefully, as if addressing a sentient bomb, "Do you…want the Captain to spank you?"
Q's expression flickered between guileless and something that looked suspiciously like hope. "Why Number One, wherever did you get such an idea from?”
"Because it sounded like you actually want him to spank you."
"You are not mistaken, Commander," Data confirmed. "Q does appear to be making a suggestive reference to corporal punishment."
Q turned to face Riker, spreading his arms wide, a mocking jesture innocence. "I have no idea what you're implying. I'm simply pointing out that I've been a very, very bad entity—"
"Oh my god," Troi whispered.
"—and that’d it really be a shame if someone did something about it. Someone with authority. Someone commanding." Q's gaze slid back to Picard. "Someone with strong hands and a disapproving glare."
"You're an omnipotent brat," Picard said slowly, realization dawning on his face with something between horror and exasperation, "who wants someone to establish boundaries. You're not testing humanity. "You're testing to see if I'll finally..." He trailed off, looking like he desperately wished he hadn't started this sentence.
"Say it, Jean-Luc," Q said, leaning forward.
"Put you in your place," Picard finished, looking like he wished he hadn’t.
The silence was deafening.
"Oh my god," Riker breathed. "He's an immortal being with an authority complex."
Q frowned. “Well now, that’s a bit strong language—"
"You absolutely are," Troi said, fascinated. "Captain, I'm sensing a deep need for structure, boundaries, and—" She paused. "—someone he respects to enforce them."
"Come now, Counsellor. I respect no one—"
"You respect the Captain," Data observed. "You have returned to the Enterprise eight times, specifically seeking Captain Picard's attention and subsequent reprimands."
"You said you’d be keeping a close eye on us," Riker pointed out. "Didn't you mention that at the start?"
"It is true that his behavior is becoming increasingly difficult to interpret as anything other than…" Data paused, processing, "a desire for the Captain to engage in disciplinary physical contact."
"Q," Picard said, his voice strained, "this is highly inappropriate—"
"Are you concerned about an audience? We could go to your ready room," Q suggested helpfully. "Much more private. Soundproofed, I assume? You could really let me have it in there, show me who's really in charge. "
Worf made a sound like a dying animal.
A vein on Picard’s head throbbed. “Absolutely not. And furthermore, it’s inappropriate—”
"You're being very judgmental right now, Jean-Luc," Q sniffed. "I thought your Federation was all about understanding different perspectives."
"You put my crew at risk!” Picard finally snapped, losing composure. Q grinned.
“And don’t you want to do something about it?"
"What I want," Picard said through gritted teeth, "is for you to restore my ship back to normal and stop making suggestive comments on my bridge."
"Make me," Q said.
The silence was deafening.
"Did he just—" Riker began.
"He did," Troi confirmed.
"Make me," Q repeated, stepping even closer to Picard. "Use that big Starfleet authority. That commanding presence. Really put me in my place, Jean-Luc."
Picard stared at him for a long moment.
Then he turned to Riker. "Number One, you have the bridge."
Riker's eyebrows shot up. "Sir?"
"I'm going to the ready room. Q, you're coming with me."
Q's lit up, demeanor changing instantaneously. "Am I?"
"Yes. We're going to have a conversation about appropriate behavior and consequences."
"Consequences," Q repeated, breathless. "What kind of consequences?"
"The stern kind."
"Oh, when you use that tone—" Q shivered dramatically. "Yes, Captain. Right away, Captain. Whatever you say, Captain."
He practically skipped toward the ready room.
Picard closed his eyes briefly, gathering strength. Then he turned and walked toward his ready room with the air of a man walking to his execution.
The doors closed behind him.
Q's voice could be faintly heard through the doors: "Oh, you're giving me that look again. The disappointed one. I love the disappointed one—"
A sharp CRACK echoed from the ready room.
Everyone froze.
"Was that—" Riker began.
Another CRACK. And then Q's voice, breathless: "Oh, you're not holding back! I was worried you'd be too much of a gentleman—"
CRACK.
"Oh my god," Troi whispered. "Oh my god, he's actually—"
"Wait," Riker said, holding up a hand, frowning. "Should we be... concerned?"
"Q is omnipotent," Data pointed out. "If he is in there, it can only be willingly."
“I’m not concerned about Q. I’m concerned about—"
Another muffled CRACK. And Q's, delightedly surprised. "Mon Capitaine!"
Riker lunged for the console, fumbling. White noise filled the helm.
"Thank you, Will," Troi said weakly.
For the next hour, the bridge crew worked in determined silence, studiously ignoring the ready room and whatever was happening in there. The animals and glitter gradually disappeared. The bouncy castle warp core returned to normal. The smoke dissipated.
#
Q emerged first, practically floating, looking extraordinarily satisfied. He adjusted his jacket with a smile.
Picard followed. His uniform was unruffled, but his jaw was clenched, hands clasped behind his back.
"Well!" Q announced to the bridge. "Your Captain and I have reached an... understanding."
"We have agreed," Picard said firmly, "that Q will limit his future visits to less disruptive manifestations."
"In exchange for regular check-ins," Q added with a smirk. "Private check-ins. In the ready room. Where the Captain can... monitor my behavior."
"That is not what I said—"
"Isn't it though?" Q blinked, eyes wide in a mockery of innocence. "Well, until next time, mon Capitaine. Maybe then you’ll make me count. To make it really sink in. Try not to miss me too much." He snapped his fingers, vanishing in a flash.
The bridge remained silent for a long moment.
"The Captain spanked Q," Data finally recapped. "This is an unexpected development in their dynamic—"
"No, Data," Picard interrupted tensely, walking toward his chair. "I have just spent an hour crossing several appropriate behavioral boundaries with a being who never once stopped making bedroom eyes at me. Even during the lecture."
"Did it…work?" Troi asked.
"He's coming back next Tuesday."
Picard turned to his bridge crew, all of whom were suddenly extremely fascinated by their interfaces, the ceiling, their own hands—anything to avoid eye contact.
"Not one word," Picard said quietly. "Not one single word, a single report about this. Ever."
"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," Riker said, trying very hard to become one with his console.
And if the ready room door ended up soundproofed better than it had been by Tuesday, well. That was just good ship maintenance.