ten_fwd | [Arrival of Game Plots] Captain's... log? [LOCKED]

Captain's Log, stardate 45218.0: The Enterprise has received a hail from colonists on Ajilon Prime. It would seem that a harsh convergence of drought and their misguided overuse of rather outdated technology has ravaged the crops on this still relatively new colony past the point of saving. They have requested the Federation's assistance in replenishing these precious resources, and the Enterprise has been dispatched to offer the assistance of our botanists in re-establishing their agricultural base. I am certain some of our ... stowaways can lend their time and skills to assisting however they can.

Regarding Q, I am still uncertain of his next move. It has come to light that the mayhem at the start of the solar month was not his doing, but rather that of the being who called himself Alec Troven. As for Q, he has been remarkably quiet since our departure from Pacifica. That can only mean he is planning something — but what?

"Oh, my Dear, Sweet Captain," Q chuckles as he turns off the transmission. The transmission he intercepted, as these ungrateful Starfleet Simpletons still do not know how to do him the dignity of looping him in. The cheek!

"Ignorance is bliss," as the saying goes. But as Q mulls over the thought from his special plane not-quite here but not-quite there either, more like a place that's in-between the in between, the good Captain and his crew will not be in the dark for much longer.

"Father's Day, isn't it?"

It's rhetorical as Q materializes above Ten Forward, chin in his hand.

"Father's Day. Hm, when was the last time any of you spoke with your fathers? Stuck on this dreary vessel for weeks, months, years at a time—"

He pauses for dramatic effect as heads begin to turn in the lounge, seeking out the disembodied voice.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm far from some heartless monster. Why, I have come to think of myself as a surrogate father to you people. Yes! As I provide for you, I care for you, I make sure you cannot blow yourselves up with your own ignorance or cause the whole of space and time to crumble on your small little heads. A loving, doting father. Here — I'll prove it to you."

A snap of his fingers, and at first glance it would seem nothing has changed.

"You'll want to check the comms system. Or the holodeck, if they're the backwards sort. Or the dead sort." Just who is he even talking about? You'll see. You'll see. "And remember ascended beings don't need socks, so do put a little effort into your gifts, won't you?"

Oh, yes. He expects gifts. That is if the people here can manage to tear their attention away from the planet quick approaching through the viewscreen windows long enough to give their compassionate caregiver five minutes of their oh-so-precious time.