Such a Pitiful Little Thing You Are
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Arcadia # 4834 | |
| — Dinaqa — | |
| |
| year | 344 CE (2407) |
| posted | November 5 2007 |
| previous | And...? |
| next | Humillaty |
Milla Q
Responding to "And...?"
Responding to "And...?"
Bartokian cruiser Dinaqa
Milla listened as Paul read off the possibilities of why she was there... and what she was capable of doing. Oh, it was true. She could heal his injuries. She could have him back on Arcadia in the blink of an eye. She could halt the attack on the planet. She could do every single one of those things, with the mere blowing of a kiss. And despite his thoughts to the contrary... it certainly wouldn't have been the first time a Q had stuck his or her nose into the affairs of others.
However... Milla was immediately more interested in his other thoughts.
"Ohhhhh... I see. I'm just a sad little sell-out. Race traitor? Pick your poison." She rolled her eyes. Walking over to the bed in the quarters, she plopped down onto it, crossing her legs as she sat. "I swear, you Arcadians would almost be amusing if you weren't so serious. You think just because you have nothing to do with any other species in the galaxy, that makes you so much better. The lot of you would cut off your own noses just to spite your collective face." Leaning forward, she smirked at Paul. "Suppose I offered to spare Arcadia. Call off the Federation attack. Just like that... it's done." Sitting back, she shook her head. "Oh... but you're a mighty, proud Arcadian. God forbid you accept the help of..." She mock-gasped as if in horror. "...a non-human."
Standing back up, she walked over to Cerina. She looked the Bartokian over for a moment. Turning back, she said, "Not that little missy here is much better. She disowned her own mother over the whole conflict between Bartok and Khalindar." She shrugged and looked back at Paul. "But... she took you in. Offered you clothing, food, medical attention... and asked you for nothing in return. Knowing full well that it may cause Bartok to be the next target on the Starfleet hit list." She walked behind Paul, leaning forward and whispering in his ear. "Doesn't that make you feel anything? Knowing you may have put an entire race in jeopardy of extinction?"
Before Paul could turn, she reappeared on the other side of the room. "Of course not. We all know how you feel about Bartokians." Her eyes widened, as if suddenly realizing something. "Ahh... it makes sense now. You did all this on purpose. Wipe out the whole Bartokian race in one fell swoop. Tell me... will you play a fiddle while Bartok burns to the ground?" She shook her head. "Arcadians. All the same. So proud. So willful. So high and mighty. You almost remind me of the Q." Her face suddenly grew eerily somber. "Except for one small detail. The Arcadians are going to be wiped out. Starfleet didn't send that many ships against the Borg."
She placed her chin on the backs of her hands. "So tell me. Everyone you ever knew. The only place you ever called home. It's going to get wiped out. Exterminated. I don't think there will be enough left of the entire planet to fit into your pocket. And they will all go to their deaths... over pride." Standing back up, she looked over to Paul. "Tell me something. All your ideals... all your beliefs. Your unflappable faith in the Arcadian way. Will that be a comfort at an entire planet's funeral?"
▷ continued ◁
