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crack_van2004-09-30 08:42 pm
simplystars.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-09-30 08:42 pm
Res-Q by Astrogirl (PG)
Fandom: FARSCAPE (crossover with ST:TNG)
Pairing: John Crichton, D'Argo, Aeryn Sun
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astrogirl2
Author Website: n/a
Why this must be read:
There were so many outstanding stories written for the Multiverse 2004 challenge that I had a difficult choice making my selection for the "official" crossover fic rec earlier in the month. This story, in particular, is so spot-on, and so engaging and funny, that I just couldn't *not* rec it.
Astrogirl takes a notoriously whimsical and difficult character (Farscape and Star Trek fans should think "godlike alien") and wreaks havoc in two universes. Hilarity ensues. Go, read, laugh yourself silly. It's good for you. :)
Q was bored. Bored, bored, bored. He'd idly considered pestering Jean-Luc some more, but the human had been so grumpy lately. And not the amusing kind of grumpy, either. Of course, he could always pop in at some point on the spacetime continuum when El Capitan was in a more entertaining state of mind, but somehow he simply couldn't be bothered. Perhaps the miserable creature's mood was infectious. Hmmph. What an utterly disgusting thought.
It's such a burden being omnipotent, he reflected. Everyone thinks it's all fun and games, oh yes, and, all right, it sort of is. But when anything is possible, it becomes such dreadful work to make anything interesting.
And so he sat here—well, "sat" in a metaphorical sense, at least—idly poking holes in spacetime the way a bored child might poke holes in the sand with a stick, and reflecting on the sad realities of existence as a superior being.
After a while—it might have been a few minutes or a few centuries, but, really, who was counting?—the section of space he'd been playing with had become so unstable it was in danger of collapsing in on itself, and he still hadn't thought of anything interesting to do. So he shifted himself a few universes over and kept on poking.
He was about to give it up and go interfere with some planet's natural development or something equally prosaic when, hello, what was this? Some idiotic creature had just fallen through that dull little wormhole he'd created while pondering whether it would be more entertaining to give time travel technology to the Klingons or to drop a monolith on some unsuspecting primitives and see how long it would take them to get the idea of hitting each other with bones.
He peered in a little closer. Ah, a human. They seemed to be everywhere these days. The multiverse was simply teeming with them. Bad design, Q thought, far too repetitive, but did anyone ever ask him? Bah. There were reasons why he usually stuck to just the one cosmos.
The poor little human looked frightened out of his wits. Understandable, considering the laughably primitive excuse for a spaceship he was piloting. "Send away your box tops for that one, Flash?" he muttered. Q briefly considered appearing in the pathetic craft and saying it to the pilot's face (well, all right, back), but for the moment it was more amusing simply to sit there and watch the show.
After a very short while (especially by Q's standards), he realized that this was going to be a very amusing show indeed. He manifested himself a big tub of popcorn and sat back to enjoy the fun.
Four years flew by. Q couldn't take his eyes away. The comedy! The tragedy! The sheer, ludicrous absurdity! Every time he'd start to grow bored and think about popping in just to shake things up a little, some ridiculous twist of fate would come along and do the job for him quite nicely.
The human was particularly entertaining, in a train-wreck sort of way. Indeed, after dealing with the self-inflated sanctimoniousness of a certain starship captain, the pitiful creature's utterly compromisable morals and complete inability to muster up enough self-delusion to maintain a sense of superiority were really quite refreshing. So Q was extremely disappointed when he finally managed to get himself killed (and without a backup this time, yet!).
Q do not stand for disappointment.
A simple snap of his fingers, and a reconstituted John Crichton stood before him, blinking in disoriented confusion as his poor human mind tried desperately to catch up.
"Wh— Where am I?"
Q sighed. So predictable. "Where does it look like you are?"
"Ummm... nowhere?"
They could have been anywhere, of course, but Q had opted for the literally timeless simplicity of the traditional white void. He thought it suited the whole "slightly-nearer-than-near-death experience" thing extremely well, even if Picard hadn't had the good taste to appreciate it. "Oh, well, close enough," he said.
"I was... I was..." Crichton peered at him. "Wait. Don't I know you?"
"I don't know. Do you?" Q paused. "Well, no, wait, that's a lie. I do know. Being omniscient, by definition, I know everything, although, admittedly most of it isn't worth paying attention to. For instance, I know that you're about to launch into an incredibly tedious speech listing all the things which that have made poor little you so very confused and unhappy, finishing up with—" His voice took on a perfect mimicry of the human's speech, "Wait, I do know you! You're a freakin' TV character!"
Crichton blinked again. "You are a freakin' TV character!"
"I've got news for you, Johnny-boy. You're not exactly all that real yourself. I could show you half a dozen universes where you're the fictional character but, frankly, that would be dull, and explaining the metaphysics so that your tiny brain could grasp it would be even duller. Let's just skip the boring exposition, shall we, and cut right to the—"
"Where's Aeryn?"
Q smiled, rather predatorily. "Right to the chase."
Crichton's pulse pistol was out of its holder and pointed at Q with what Q supposed was an impressive speed for a human.
"Oh, please," he said. A languid motion of his hand and the weapon vanished from existence.
"Hey! Bring her back!"
He smiled with what he knew was an infuriatingly innocent expression. "Who? Aeryn or Winona?"
"Both of them!"
Q waggled a finger at him. "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh! You only get one!"
Crichton sighed. "Godlike aliens," he muttered. "God, do I hate godlike aliens." Then with what Q thought was a rather overdramatic air of long-suffering patience. "Aeryn. Bring back Aeryn. Please."
Q grinned. "Sorry. I didn't say which one you could have!" The pulse pistol was suddenly back in Crichton's hand. The human looked at it rather suspiciously, then aimed it at Q's head. "Oh, go on. Pull the trigger. See what happens." He grinned again.
Crichton looked at the gun, looked at Q, looked back at the gun. "You're really... him? Q? Extradimensional asshole, likes to pop in on the Starship Enterprise and play practical jokes? Completely fictional character?"
"Oh!" Q put a hand to his chest. "You wound me!"
Crichton looked at the gun again, then holstered it with another sigh. "Man, this day is turning out even weirder than usual. All right. You like games, right? So this is some kind of a game. What do I gotta do? Go play Robin Hood? I really hope that's not it, because, man, there are some of my shipmates I just do not want to see wearing tights."
"Oh, please. Give me credit for a little more originality than that! That game wasn't even terribly interesting the first time."
"That's because Picard beat you."
"You watch too much television, did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Yeah, my parents. All the time. 'You spend too much time in front of the boob tube, Johnny! Why don't you go outside and play?' You know what? Personally, I think the Star Trek reruns did more to prepare me for my adult life than five years of little league. Now, I'll ask again: Where. The hell. Is Aeryn?"
"Ah, ah!" Q waggled a finger at him. "That would be telling!"
"Telling? What are you, three?"
Q decided not to even dignify that with a response.
"OK, so, what?" the human continued. "We're playing hide-and-go-seek, is that it? Or, no, I know, it's galactic keep-away. No, wait... 20 questions! Is she bigger than a breadbox?"
"Oh, I think I'll leave it to you to figure out the rules. Shouldn't be a problem for a big brain like yours, should it, Johnny-boy? What was it you've been claiming to be? Master of the secrets of the universe? It ought to be a—"
Snap!
Res-Q
Pairing: John Crichton, D'Argo, Aeryn Sun
Author on LJ:
astrogirl2 Author Website: n/a
Why this must be read:
There were so many outstanding stories written for the Multiverse 2004 challenge that I had a difficult choice making my selection for the "official" crossover fic rec earlier in the month. This story, in particular, is so spot-on, and so engaging and funny, that I just couldn't *not* rec it.
Astrogirl takes a notoriously whimsical and difficult character (Farscape and Star Trek fans should think "godlike alien") and wreaks havoc in two universes. Hilarity ensues. Go, read, laugh yourself silly. It's good for you. :)
Q was bored. Bored, bored, bored. He'd idly considered pestering Jean-Luc some more, but the human had been so grumpy lately. And not the amusing kind of grumpy, either. Of course, he could always pop in at some point on the spacetime continuum when El Capitan was in a more entertaining state of mind, but somehow he simply couldn't be bothered. Perhaps the miserable creature's mood was infectious. Hmmph. What an utterly disgusting thought.
It's such a burden being omnipotent, he reflected. Everyone thinks it's all fun and games, oh yes, and, all right, it sort of is. But when anything is possible, it becomes such dreadful work to make anything interesting.
And so he sat here—well, "sat" in a metaphorical sense, at least—idly poking holes in spacetime the way a bored child might poke holes in the sand with a stick, and reflecting on the sad realities of existence as a superior being.
After a while—it might have been a few minutes or a few centuries, but, really, who was counting?—the section of space he'd been playing with had become so unstable it was in danger of collapsing in on itself, and he still hadn't thought of anything interesting to do. So he shifted himself a few universes over and kept on poking.
He was about to give it up and go interfere with some planet's natural development or something equally prosaic when, hello, what was this? Some idiotic creature had just fallen through that dull little wormhole he'd created while pondering whether it would be more entertaining to give time travel technology to the Klingons or to drop a monolith on some unsuspecting primitives and see how long it would take them to get the idea of hitting each other with bones.
He peered in a little closer. Ah, a human. They seemed to be everywhere these days. The multiverse was simply teeming with them. Bad design, Q thought, far too repetitive, but did anyone ever ask him? Bah. There were reasons why he usually stuck to just the one cosmos.
The poor little human looked frightened out of his wits. Understandable, considering the laughably primitive excuse for a spaceship he was piloting. "Send away your box tops for that one, Flash?" he muttered. Q briefly considered appearing in the pathetic craft and saying it to the pilot's face (well, all right, back), but for the moment it was more amusing simply to sit there and watch the show.
After a very short while (especially by Q's standards), he realized that this was going to be a very amusing show indeed. He manifested himself a big tub of popcorn and sat back to enjoy the fun.
Four years flew by. Q couldn't take his eyes away. The comedy! The tragedy! The sheer, ludicrous absurdity! Every time he'd start to grow bored and think about popping in just to shake things up a little, some ridiculous twist of fate would come along and do the job for him quite nicely.
The human was particularly entertaining, in a train-wreck sort of way. Indeed, after dealing with the self-inflated sanctimoniousness of a certain starship captain, the pitiful creature's utterly compromisable morals and complete inability to muster up enough self-delusion to maintain a sense of superiority were really quite refreshing. So Q was extremely disappointed when he finally managed to get himself killed (and without a backup this time, yet!).
Q do not stand for disappointment.
A simple snap of his fingers, and a reconstituted John Crichton stood before him, blinking in disoriented confusion as his poor human mind tried desperately to catch up.
"Wh— Where am I?"
Q sighed. So predictable. "Where does it look like you are?"
"Ummm... nowhere?"
They could have been anywhere, of course, but Q had opted for the literally timeless simplicity of the traditional white void. He thought it suited the whole "slightly-nearer-than-near-death experience" thing extremely well, even if Picard hadn't had the good taste to appreciate it. "Oh, well, close enough," he said.
"I was... I was..." Crichton peered at him. "Wait. Don't I know you?"
"I don't know. Do you?" Q paused. "Well, no, wait, that's a lie. I do know. Being omniscient, by definition, I know everything, although, admittedly most of it isn't worth paying attention to. For instance, I know that you're about to launch into an incredibly tedious speech listing all the things which that have made poor little you so very confused and unhappy, finishing up with—" His voice took on a perfect mimicry of the human's speech, "Wait, I do know you! You're a freakin' TV character!"
Crichton blinked again. "You are a freakin' TV character!"
"I've got news for you, Johnny-boy. You're not exactly all that real yourself. I could show you half a dozen universes where you're the fictional character but, frankly, that would be dull, and explaining the metaphysics so that your tiny brain could grasp it would be even duller. Let's just skip the boring exposition, shall we, and cut right to the—"
"Where's Aeryn?"
Q smiled, rather predatorily. "Right to the chase."
Crichton's pulse pistol was out of its holder and pointed at Q with what Q supposed was an impressive speed for a human.
"Oh, please," he said. A languid motion of his hand and the weapon vanished from existence.
"Hey! Bring her back!"
He smiled with what he knew was an infuriatingly innocent expression. "Who? Aeryn or Winona?"
"Both of them!"
Q waggled a finger at him. "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh! You only get one!"
Crichton sighed. "Godlike aliens," he muttered. "God, do I hate godlike aliens." Then with what Q thought was a rather overdramatic air of long-suffering patience. "Aeryn. Bring back Aeryn. Please."
Q grinned. "Sorry. I didn't say which one you could have!" The pulse pistol was suddenly back in Crichton's hand. The human looked at it rather suspiciously, then aimed it at Q's head. "Oh, go on. Pull the trigger. See what happens." He grinned again.
Crichton looked at the gun, looked at Q, looked back at the gun. "You're really... him? Q? Extradimensional asshole, likes to pop in on the Starship Enterprise and play practical jokes? Completely fictional character?"
"Oh!" Q put a hand to his chest. "You wound me!"
Crichton looked at the gun again, then holstered it with another sigh. "Man, this day is turning out even weirder than usual. All right. You like games, right? So this is some kind of a game. What do I gotta do? Go play Robin Hood? I really hope that's not it, because, man, there are some of my shipmates I just do not want to see wearing tights."
"Oh, please. Give me credit for a little more originality than that! That game wasn't even terribly interesting the first time."
"That's because Picard beat you."
"You watch too much television, did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Yeah, my parents. All the time. 'You spend too much time in front of the boob tube, Johnny! Why don't you go outside and play?' You know what? Personally, I think the Star Trek reruns did more to prepare me for my adult life than five years of little league. Now, I'll ask again: Where. The hell. Is Aeryn?"
"Ah, ah!" Q waggled a finger at him. "That would be telling!"
"Telling? What are you, three?"
Q decided not to even dignify that with a response.
"OK, so, what?" the human continued. "We're playing hide-and-go-seek, is that it? Or, no, I know, it's galactic keep-away. No, wait... 20 questions! Is she bigger than a breadbox?"
"Oh, I think I'll leave it to you to figure out the rules. Shouldn't be a problem for a big brain like yours, should it, Johnny-boy? What was it you've been claiming to be? Master of the secrets of the universe? It ought to be a—"
Snap!
Res-Q