Subj: Reflections Pt.1 (Adult)
Date: 12/13/98 7:26:36 PM Central Standard Time
From: marcos1

Captain Jean-Luc Picard rolled over in bed. He was restless and couldn’t sleep. He had spent most of the evening working on his book. He was writing a history of one of his ancestors, Barnabas Collins, who lived in the state of Maine, on the planet Earth---Sector One.

“Earl Gray—medium hot,” Picard said to the replicator. A cup of his favorite tea appeared in the mouth of the hologram based device. He sat back in his *Captain’s Chair*, looking out at the stars. He shifted through the different documents on his desk. He had the diary of Angelique Bouchard Collins, notes from a physician called Julia Hoffman, and a copy of the official Collins’s history written by David Collins III, in the year 2010. As valuable as these records were, he still had a feeling that there was something missing. Something that could tell him about the soul of this strange man. Who was Barnabas Collins? Was he a villain or a hero? Who had he loved---his wife, the witch from the island of Martinique? Or perhaps the selfless enigma, who was his loyal friend—Julia Hoffman?

“Barnabas Collins,” a voice called from the darkness. “Jean Luc, do you really want to see the truth about him? Would you be afraid to look into the depths of the darkness that surrounded him?”

Picard looked and saw him sitting across the room. He was slim, his dark hair tinged with gray. His face was tapering and his eyes burned with a furious intensity. He was the intergalactic Loki, the court jester who lacking a court—would visit him. “Q,” groaned Picard. “What are you doing here?”

Q crossed his legs. He was wearing the Star Fleet uniform of an Admiral. “Oh, Jean-Luc, Mon captain, how could I stay away?”

They both vanished from the Enterprise.

~~~~~

Picard found himself and Q standing on a beach. There was the strong smell of cinnamon in the air. Nearby was a small cottage with a grass roof. The sound of lovemaking was coming from inside.

“Q,” Picard said sternly, “Where are we? Return me to the Enterprise at once.” He looked down at his clothes, gone was his uniform, replaced by the clothing of an eighteenth century fisherman.

“We are on the island called Martinique, Isle of Flowers,” Q replied. “We are just in time to witness a most important event. The blonde haired witch named Angelique is being conceived. This is how the story began.”

They both walked over to the cottage. Q pointed to the window. “Look inside and you will begin to understand. If you dare.”

Picard walked over to the window. Inside he saw a pretty blonde woman. She was deeply into the throes of passion. But what was that on top of her? Picard stared in shock. The creature was dark red, covered with hair, with two cloven hooves instead of legs. “My God, man,” Picard exclaimed turning to Q. “She is having sex with a demon.”

“Meet Diabolos,” Q said softly. “He was Angelique’s true father.”

To be continued—