Alvin Schwartz by Jill C. Wheeler

By Jill C. Wheeler

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What about you, Captain? " Robinson considered Picard. "Is that true, Captain? " Picard frowned as he weighed his response. "In fact," he said, "I do. " His companions weren't at all happy with that. Drayvin harrumphed and Hompaq grumbled, both clear signs of displeasure. Robinson leaned closer to Picard. "Come, now," he said. "We're all friends here. All captains, as it were. " Picard looked around the table. Normally, he was a man who kept his feelings to himself Nonetheless, he felt remarkably at ease in this place, among these people.

Could this be his old nemesis Q at work again, showing off his vaunted omnipotence for some purpose the captain couldn't begin to fathom? He searched for Q in the crowd, but couldn't find him. Suddenly, the captain felt an arm close around him like a vice. He looked up into dancing eyes and a dense, white beard and for a moment-just a fraction of a second-imagined he was face-to-face with Santa Claus. When the stranger laughed, filling the room with his mirth, it didn't do anything to dispel the illusion.

The woman thanked Worf and withdrew, enlightened by his lesson. I must say, I was enlightened a bit as well. Even if I was not a practitioner of Mok'bara, I was intelligent enough to pay attention when there was something valuable to be learned. Worf's class didn't last much longer after that. As his students filed out, muscle-sore but exhilarated, I approached him. "You do not come down here often," he noted. "That's true," I said. Lately, I had gotten in the habit of taking my exercise in the holodecks.

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