The Q Who Fell to Earth

Star Trek TNG Fanfiction
Title:	The Q Who Fell to Earth
Author(s):	Jeanita Danzik
Date(s):	1 April 1996
Length:	~69,000 words
Genre:	AU, slash, OC-centric
Fandom:	Star Trek: The Next Generation
External Links:	[1] @Trekiverse; @alara.net (missing epilogue)
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The Q Who Fell to Earth is a Star Trek: TNG Q/ofm novel by Jeanita Danzik, an AU of the episode "Deja Q", where Q loses his powers. Jeanita acknowledges Alara Rogers and Mercutio, known for their "Deja Q" spinoffs, as inspirations.

Reactions and Reviews

There are actually a number of good stories out there taking the premise that once Q lost his powers in Deja Q, he never got them back, and is forced to adapt to life as a human. However, since all but this one are incomplete, written by me, written by me *and* incomplete, or based at least in part on my work, this is the only one I can rec. Fortunately, I'm very fond of this one. Shortly after losing his powers, Q is approached by a half-Orionese lawyer, Riller Harris, who offers to represent him. In short order she helps him to become fantastically wealthy, and he becomes a playboy on Risa, but it doesn't make him happy. Unusually for this genre, Q's love interest is not Harris, but a male original character, and there are a few explicit sex scenes, though probably not enough for the folks who're really into the smut. :-) The existential angst and slow disintegration of Q's life is really well drawn, and Jeanita touches on a number of other issues well, such as the experience of being an outsider looking in on the Federation and the analogy to racism in modern life, and the fact that love cannot actually save or redeem a person who's dying inside. My inner P/Q shipper was rather distressed at Q's antagonism toward Picard in this story, but in the context it appears in, it makes absolute sense.

Her "The Q Who Fell To Earth" is honestly probably the most realistic treatment of the whole concept, once you solve the initial problem (which I pointed out to her in beta, but she handwaved) of how the lawyer finds Q in the first place. Riller Harris and her problems with Starfleet and Federation society because her mother is an Orion slave was the first treatment I encountered in Trek fanfiction of the issues of minorities and racism, and the first encounter I'd *ever* had with the notion that racism doesn't have to be hatred, it can be amazed pleasure that one of "those people" is actually doing so well. Patronizing, well-meaning, liberal... the kind of attitudes people like me adopt reflexively because we think it's good to support minorities' achievements and don't realize how irritated we would be if people looked at *our* achievements as if we were dancing bears or something. It opened my eyes, seriously. It's also a realistic treatment of the issue for the Star Trek universe, where the more pernicious, obvious forms of racism have been mostly eliminated in the Federation. (Alara Rogers)

Excerpt

Despite her little encounter with Commander Riker, Riller was actually beginning to relax and enjoy herself. She'd done this sort of thing often enough to know there was a point in negotiations where all the parties began to play subtle and not so subtle one-upmanship games with one another. This, Riller knew, was when they gave things away without intending to, each trying to impress the others. The Ferengi blustered and postured; the Andorians offered bribes; The Klingon negotiator offered veiled and not-so-veiled threats; the Federation rep, Riker, tried to look amused and above it all, saying little. Riller suspected he knew where her true interests lay, and was holding out for the final rounds.

That evening she played a little game of her own, approaching the Andorian to ask where on Andor his family was from. He smiled broadly when she told him where she'd gone to school, and the two of them had a few moments' animated conversation before parting for their respective quarters.

"One of his clan-group was in my class," she told Q, having made sure to time her comment so that Riker would be sure to hear it.

"Big deal," Q answered. Andorians, he knew, had large families. He was probably related to half the people on his planet. "Do you intend to take his bribe?"

Riller grinned. "Oh, you heard that, did you?"

"How could I miss it?" He mimicked the Andorian's sibilant speech patterns, "'The additional benefits for your client and yourself would be quite considerable.' Obsequious toad."

"Well, hold your horses," Riller liked that phrase though she'd never actually seen a horse. "Let's wait until he puts an actual figure on it."

"You put a figure on it--on *me*," Q responded harshly. "I heard you tell him I was worth one hundred million Federation credits."

"You're may not get that much," Riller warned, completely missing Q's anger at being appraised like a piece of furniture. "Probably not even close."

"Why, because you're going to take it?" Q glared at her suspiciously. The greedy sow was probably going to steal half of it before he even saw a single quarter credit. He really was going to sue her. Perhaps he'd even get a law degree--if she had one it couldn't be hard--then he wouldn't have to trust anyone else with his money and his legal rights. His name would strike fear into the hearts of litigators everywhere.

Staring down at her, Q could see her green skin mottle with dots of deeper color. Gratified that he'd finally managed to get a dart under her stolid exterior, he crossed his arms and waited for the explosion.

Riller noted the smug satisfaction in his expression and forced herself to calm down. She did not want to let this slur go unchallenged, but she would not yell at him in the middle of the corridor. "If I wanted to, I could steal *everything* I get for you," she answered silkily. "There's ways to do it legally, and there'd be no one to protect you. You have no friends here, no family, no lovers; no one to care whether I rob you blind or not."

To her horror, his eyes filled with tears.

Q turned and strode down the hallway towards his quarters. That last remark had stirred up all the thoughts he'd been avoiding as he'd tried desperately to pretend that this was all some temporary game he was choosing to play. In his mind he heard her say it over and over again: 'no family, no friends... no family, no friends...'

Safe in the privacy of his room, he put his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound. "Stop it," he whispered. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop." His chest was heaving, and he sank into the chair by his eating table, hands clutching his hair. "I can't do this," he whimpered. "I'm afraid."

The doorchime made him jump to his feet. "Come," he said in a voice that was almost normal. He still had not made the connection between tears and emotional pain, so he didn't think to wipe his face.