Gemini took in a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was wrapped in white linen sheets and bathed in the warmth of morning sunlight cascading through a nearby window. She stretched her ams and rolled over, the light blue tunic clinging to her thin frame as strands of brown and white hair were brushed across her face. She tapped her fingers on the wooden table at her right until she felt her glasses. She took another breath as she slipped them onto her head.

The Aravasti pushed herself up to a seated position and scratched her head. Everything seemed in its place; the bookshelf stacked with books and half-finished drawing journals held up by jars of pencils and a few potted plants; the round purple cushion near the tall lamp in the corner; and the half-opened wardrobe hinting at the vibrantly-colored clothing hanging inside.

She blinked. A pair of men’s boots were on the ground beside it.

She crawled to her knees and stopped at the edge of the bed. She could see traces of clothing not her own peeking out from within the wardrobe. She reached from the bed and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Half of the wardrobe contained men’s clothing, including one long, purple scarf that draped outside the door.

Distant clanging drew her confused expression toward the bedroom door. It was cracked, allowing the sound to enter.

Gemini narrowed her eyes.

She got up and retrieved a thin shawl from the wardrobe to wrap around her bare arms, and her bare feet crossed the colorful woven carpets strewn across the bedroom floor. She cautiously stepped into the hallway, finding two closed doors on either side of her. Ahead, the warm light–and savory smell–from the kitchen downstairs, drew her forward.

She carefully crept down the stairs and slowed as she reached the bottom. She turned away from the front door and held her breath as she walked into the kitchen.

Her heart leapt.

A man with pale blond hair was turned away, lifting a freshly baked loaf of bread from the cast iron oven. He did not have mitts; instead, a shield of light separated his fingers from the heat of the pan. He was in a simple blue shirt and tan pants, and he brushed his hands onto his short apron once his hands were free of the pan.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up.”

Gemini swallowed, knowing the man’s voice well.

The man turned around, revealing long white bangs messily hung around his face. His blue eyes smiled as much as his lips did. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

Gemini’s face flushed the moment they locked eyes. Her hand instantly went to the brown strands of her hair, nervously twisting it between her fingers. “I did,” she answered after a pause. “You?”

The man hummed and nodded in affirmation, and he turned back to the pan on the stove. “Would you like one egg, or two?”

“Two,” she took a step forward. “Ian…”

“Hm?” Ian glanced over his shoulder.

Words instantly became difficult to speak. Thousands coursed through her mind, but not a single one could be coaxed from the noise.

Ian, however, just smiled and returned to the pan. “I bet you just need a nice, warm breakfast.”

Her lips tugged in a smile as her worries faded. “Maybe I do.”

“You can slice the bread, if you’d like,” Ian said as he reached for the butter dish. “You’re the only one who can touch it when it’s that hot.”

The Igne-Aravasti smiled and slowly entered the kitchen. She passed behind Ian and up to the bread pan, feeling its heat as she wrapped her hands around it. With an effortless twist she lifted the pan and set it upside-down on the counter. The fresh loaf slid out, and at once the smell was warm and familiar.

She reached for the bread knife, only to pause; at once forgetting which of the drawers she could find it in.

“Where’s the bread knife?” She resorted to asking.

“Should be in the drawer,” Ian glanced at her.

She chewed on her lip, looking between three drawers.

Ian brushed behind her, his hand lingering on her hip as he opened the drawer next to her.

“Oh, thanks,” she reached in for the wooden handle.

Ian’s hand slipped to her other hip, holding her in place.

Gemini froze, closing her eyes as she felt Ian’s lips on her cheek. His body was warm against her back.

Her eyes popped open. She broke from his grasp and stepped away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, remaining where he stood

She again twisted strands of her hair as she stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Sorry, I just… I feel like something is… off.”

“There’s a few reasons for that,” the man offered somewhat matter-of-factly.

“What?”

Ian flashed a toothy grin. “Well, for one, your sister has Lyra.”

“Lyra?”

“Polara wanted to have a cousin sleepover, so she undoubtedly had the time of her life with Aira and Andre last night.”

Another pang shot through her while Ian simply chuckled. Lyra was her daughter–Lyra was her and Ian’s daughter. Polara was her sister, married to Aurel, with two children: Aira and Andre. She struggled to process these thoughts as their foreignness startled her.

“You got to wake up in peace this morning,” Ian cracked the eggs onto the pan, “and not with the fingers of tiny hands prying your eyes open. Well,” he paused, “that’s how she likes to wake me up, anyway.”

At once, Gemini found standing difficult. She felt lightheaded, nauseous, and breathless–and most of all extremely confused. She wobbled across the stone floor and nearly collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. She clutched the shawl around her shoulders and hunched forward.

“Are you feeling okay?” Ian stopped what he was doing when he saw her distressed state. When she didn’t answer, he took a step toward her. “Gem?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered, unable to move.

“Gem,” Ian was kneeling before her in a matter of seconds. “Do we need to go to the doctor?”

She shook her head.

“You’re still early on,” he tried, taking the side of her face into his hand. “You’ll probably feel sick for another month or so if it’s anything like Lyra.”

“Month or so,” Gemini repeated, attempting to decipher his words. When the context finally clicked, her hand instantly clamped across her middle. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered.

“Gemini,” Ian stressed. “I think I agree with you–something is off.” He glanced back at the stove and stood up quickly to remove the pan of eggs from the fire. “Let me bring you to the doctor.”

“No,” she bolted upright.

“Gem,” he turned back to her.

A knock at the door averted their attention. Before they could move, the door clicked open.

“Knock knock!” A woman’s voice called from around the corner. “Guess who woke up super early and got everyone else up with her?”

Gemini’s brows arched in pained surprise as a tall woman with long brown hair and white bangs entered the kitchen from the foyer. She was dressed in purple robes and had a toddler on her right hip.

“Lara…” Gemini whispered in realization, slinking back into the chair.

Two girls darted out from behind Polara’s skirt, both with light brown hair.

“Momma, guess what?” The younger of the two bounded across the kitchen toward her. 

Lyra was just as much familiar as she was foreign: the stringy brown hair tossed around her shoulders, the missing front tooth she had just lost last week, the freckled cheeks that would eventually fade if they were anything like her mother’s, the bright blue eyes of her father, and the joy and genuine love in those eyes looking back at her.

“Careful, Lyra–Momma’s not feeling good right now,” Ian tried to intercept her when Gemini made no movement to accept her daughter’s leap.

“Uh oh, you’re having trouble with this one, too?” Polara bounced the young boy higher on her hip. “I think you were more sick with Lyra than I ever was with Aira and Andre combined.”

“Momma’s sick?” Lyra looked at her mother with concern. She reached out her hand and set it on Gemini’s knee. “Are you okay, Momma?”

“Lyra, I…” Gemini struggled to breathe.

“You’ll need to stay with Auntie Lara a little longer,” the man crouched on one knee and took Lyra into his arms. He looked up at Gemini’s sister with a frown. “I need to bring Gem to the doctor.”

“No,” Gemini muttered, her eyes unfocused behind her glasses.

“Why does Momma have to go to the doctor?” Lyra’s concern was evident in her expression as much as the tone of her voice.

“Remember when we told you that you’d be getting a new brother or sister?” Ian tried to explain as he carried her back to Polara.

Shock hit the young girl as she was placed on her feet next to a similarly confused Aira. “Are you going to get them now??” She asked in surprise.

“No, no,” Polara took her free hand and laid it on Lyra’s head. “You have to wait a few more months for that. But we can go play in your room while we wait for Momma and Daddy to get back today!”

“We can play more, Lyra!” Aira was fully on board with the proposition.

“No,” Gemini was trembling, tears welling in her eyes.

Ian leaned his head down toward her. “Gemini, what is it?”

“This isn’t right,” she spat the words.

Ian appeared hurt. “What do you mean?”

“This—all of this!” The woman thrust out her hand into the kitchen. “This isn’t right–this isn’t here!”

Polara grit her teeth and ushered the kids out of the room as Ian dropped to his knees at Gemini’s feet.

“Gemini, please–it’s going to be okay–”

Gemini stood up so abruptly the chair she was sitting on clattered backward into the wall. 

“No!!” She yelled. “None of this is here! All of this is gone!!”

Ian sat back on his feet in wide-eyed fear as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Aravast was destroyed!” Her voice wavered.

“Gemini!” Now Ian was shaking in fear, reaching up for Gemini’s hand.

She clenched her teeth and took it.

In the blink of an eye, she could see his fingers, blue and bruised, held lifelessly in her hand. His body was wrapped in the remnants of his long purple scarf and lying on the fire-scorched land. She could see embers drifting in the air above the stone fountain, dried and fallen over from the blasts. She could see the rubble of broken sandstone walls strewn across the dusty ground surrounding her as she knelt upon it.

She gasped for air, gripping her bare arms as her brown and white hair was tossed in the wind. She was still alive because Ian had protected her with the last of his strength and power. 

She was the only one left.

The last of the planet Aravast.

In the bleeding sky above her, a disc-like ship came into view. She watched it in silent awe as it dipped into and out of the rising clouds of smoke. A disturbance began to shift the air before her. It scattered into colored light, and with a whoosh of sound, a man in a red Starfleet uniform faded into view.

“Oh, you’re no fun!!” He complained, hands crossed at his chest.

Gemini’s brows lowered. “Q…”

“You just had to ruin that beautiful little moment, didn’t you!” He stepped up to her place on the ground.

“You–you did that??” She climbed back to her feet and stood stiffly before him. “You tugged at every memory–every emotion I ever had from my life on Aravast??”

“Well, of course!” He thrust out his hands. “I had to show you what life would have been like if you had done what all good Aravasti women did: settle down with a husband and start a family!” He pointed over his shoulder. “Oh–try to guess which of your children ends up being an Igne.”

Gemini clenched her teeth and shook her head. “No!! Because none of that was real!”

“Says who?”

“Says the person who lived through this destruction!!” Gemini was seething as she stepped across the broken ground and forced her way into Q’s face. “Says the person who knows every living thing on this planet died except me!! Do you know how hard that’s been to comprehend I was the only survivor? Do you know how much guilt I’ve had to endure wondering why it was me and not someone else??”

Q looked down his nose at Gemini, frowning as tears stained her dust-covered face. “I still say you’re no fun.” He mumbled under his breath.

Gemini huffed out a sigh and relaxed as Q turned around. 

“This could have been your life if you hadn’t ruined it, though.”

She glanced aside, lips tightly pressed as she again found herself in her bedroom–just as it had been when she had awakened.

“This could have been your new reality,” Q stepped up to her bookshelf and lifted one of the drawing books, “a reality in which Aravast was not destroyed, and Ian chose you as his wife.” He flipped open a page and found doodles of space ships. “Hm,” he commented.

Gemini stepped around him and plucked the book from his hand. “This is not my reality.”

Q sighed, his expression dulled. “Fine.”

He raised his hand.

Gemini blinked–recognizing the sign too late. “Wait–” she reached for him.

He snapped his finger once.

---
Scene Notes

• In one of the earlier drafts of Echoes of Aravast (Gemini's story idea before it morphed into Westfall), a 'flash forward' at the very end would show Gemini and Ian as a couple with two children, Lyra (Sierra originally) and Isaac (with Isaac ending up with Gemini's power–which, at the time, was time-manipulation). But that story will now just live on as an alternate reality here!
• The TNG crossovers never got this deep into Gemini's backstory, so that was pretty moving to show what she's been through.

A man with tan and white hair stepped up to the gate of Mickey D’s mansion. He had followed behind a handful of others, each going through the same vetting process until he was the only one left in line. He adjusted the headband on his forehead and stepped up to the window of the gatehouse.

“Name?” The young woman in a tight suit coat peered out at him.

“Ace Gallagher.”

“Ace?” She shot him a look.

“Yes, ma’am.” He waited as she looked at her list.

“Oh. Ace Gallagher," her pen touched the tablet she was holding. “Arrived on the Galileo from the planet Tal E?”

“Right, again.”

Hands reached out from the window. “Entrance fee.”

Ace took the slim box of dilithium crystals from the pocket inside his coat and handed it over. “Here you are.”

Her finger thrust out of the window and narrowly missed his nose.

“Step over there.”

His eyes followed her pointed finger and he slowly turned in its direction. A man in a suit was standing with a probe in his hand. He nodded and stepped up to him.

“No weapons, communicators, computers, or other devices?” The man asked despite immediately running the probe over the entirety of Ace’s body in the process.

“No, sir,” he held out his arms as the man jabbed the probe under them.

He stepped back and gestured inside the gate. “Enter.”

“Thanks.”

As he walked inside the complex, the grandeur of the mansion struck him. Tall columns stretched from the ground and held up the multi-story facade. Thin, spiraled trees emerged from great stone pots at the base of each column, with warm lights pointed upward between them both. The mansion itself was built with red brick and off-white stucco. Windows were tall and thin and numerous.

“Sir,” the doorman called, reigning Ace’s eyes back to his mission. “You may come inside!”

“Right–sorry!” Ace adjusted his tie and sprinted toward the door. “I was just admiring the place.”

“Well, you can continue in here,” the man opened the door and ushered him inside.

Ace was again left breathless as he stood in the middle of Mickey D’s foyer. High ceilings with white and gold wallpaper were accented with deep red, velvet curtains. On each side of the room was a serving table where skilled barkeeps mixed drinks and waitresses offered horderves. The other entrants were dispersed throughout the room, most gathering around the bars or by the chest-high round tables nearby. 

One of the entrants, a tall woman in a sparkling maroon dress with curled brown hair, caught Ace’s wandering expression.

Ace cleared his throat and adjusted his posture when he realized the woman was now walking toward him. He hadn’t recognized her from the line outside; in fact, he didn’t remember seeing many other women in general–much less a woman in such a striking garment.

“Good evening,” she held out her hand long before she had reached him. “I’m Rose Wilson.”

“Good evening, m’lady” he accepted her hand, bowed, and gave her knuckles a kiss.

“Oh,” she twisted her chin near one of her shoulders in surprise of his chivalry.

“I’m Ace Gallagher,” he said after returning her hand.

Her thin brows lowered. “Ace? For real?”

“Yep. My parents had a sense of humor,” he tugged at his fingerless gloves, “and possibly a gambling addiction.”

She stifled a laugh. “Well.”

“And you, Rose,” Ace slid closer to her, leaning his elbow onto the round table beside them. “Were your parents gardeners?”

Her hazel eyes narrowed despite her lips remaining in a half smile. “My mother loved roses; my father would frequently give them to her.”

“That’s sweet.”

“So, what brings you here, Ace?” She took another step forward.

“I’m here to play poker,” he smirked. 

“And win the prize?”

“That’s the least of my concern.”

“Really?” She asked incredulously.

“Really.” He replied simply. “You?”

“I’m here to win.”

Ace held his breath as the woman pressed up against him, pointing her fingernail into Ace’s chest. “What are you hoping to win?” He managed to speak after a moment.

“The prize, of course.”

“Mickey D’s fortune?”

“Mm,” she hummed. “But I wouldn’t mind a little more.”

Ace swallowed as her fingernail now caressed his chin. His green eyes darted aside. “Sorry–one second!” 

Rose nearly fell forward as Ace slipped out of her grasp in one swift movement to chase down a passing tray of horderves. 

“I love these little egg things–thank you!” He ended up taking the last three on the waitress’ tray–much to her surprise.

Rose smirked as she set her hand on her hip. “Devilled eggs?”

Ace already had one in his mouth when he turned around. “Issthah wha theyrcalled?” He held a fist over his lips as he continued chewing.

Rose again let a laugh escape her lips. “You’re an interesting fellow.”

“I get that a lot,” he held one of the two egg halves out toward her. “Would you like one?”

“No, thank you,” she waved her hand before another man caught her eye.

“Rose, there you are,” the tall man with jet-black hair and a small mark between his eyebrows stepped up to them. “I hear they’ll be letting everyone in the ballroom in a few minutes.” He glanced down at the tan-haired man stuffing the last of a devilled egg into his mouth. “Um, hello.”

Ace swallowed and held out his hand. “Ace Gallagher.”

“Ace?”

“Yep,” both he and Rose answered.

The man shrugged as he shook Ace’s gloved hand. “I’m Jeffery Boen from Risa,” he said before adding, “and yes, our planet really is everything you’ve heard of it.”

“We’ve heard of it?” Ace tilted his head.

Rose’s attention was drawn away before a stunned Jeffrey could respond. “There he is,” she whispered.

Both men turned to follow her gaze.

A rotund man in a pinstripe suit could be seen near the bar at the other end of the room.

“Mickey D,” Jeffery took a step forward. “The man himself.”

“Cool, let’s go–”

Rose grabbed Ace by the sleeve. “What are you doing??”

Ace looked at her confusedly. “Going to meet him?”

“You don’t just walk up to Mickey D!” Jeffrey grit his teeth.

The Aravasti narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“You know who he is, don’t you?” Rose hissed.

“Uh,” he looked between the two of them, “yes?”

Rose released him and both she and Jeffery bent closer. “I don’t think you do,” her voice was low and sharp, “or you would know why you need to keep your distance.”

Jeffery’s entire demeanor had changed as he held his elbows tight against his sides. “He’s a notorious hitman–probably killed hundreds over the years for bounty. He’s also a thief and a smuggler.”

“Of goods,” Rose narrowed her eyes, “and people.”

Ace frowned, leaning away from her.

“If he does come over here, which I’m sure he will,” Rose leaned in closer, “you need to be very careful.”

“Only speak when you’re spoken to,” Jeffery added. “And when you’re spoken to, stick to small talk–don’t pry.”

“If there is one thing about Mickey D you need to remember, is that he will follow through with every plan–every threat–he makes. His track record proves that. If you make one wrong move,” Rose grasped Ace’s gloved hand, “you won’t leave this mansion alive.”

Ace blinked, a mixture of concern and bewilderment on his face. He could only nod slowly in reply, and only then did Rose release the tight grip on his hand.

Jeffrey cleared his throat and swirled the wine in his glass. “So, Ace,” he leaned heavily on his name. “Where are you from?”

“Tal E.”

“Tal E?” Jeffery repeated. “Never heard of it.”

“We’re new to joining the Federation. Just got warp capabilities and a decommissioned Starfleet shuttle, so when I heard about this tournament, I figured I’d take a chance.”

“Interesting.”

“He’s not interested in the prize money,” Rose laid a hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“I never said I wasn’t,” Ace clarified, “I’m just more interested in playing the game. It’s fun. I enjoy it.”

“Is that so?”

The look on Rose and Jeffery’s faces was all Ace needed to confirm the identity of the man now standing behind him. He paused for only a moment, then turned around to find a man no taller than himself–albeit much rounder–in a pinstripe suit, holding a glass of wine in his left hand.

Ace’s lips pulled to a grin. “You must be Mickey D,” he reached out his hand. “I’m Ace Gallagher.”

Mickey took Ace’s hand and shook it. “A firm handshake; I like it. And with a name like that, I believe you’ve come to the right place.”

The gambler smirked as he chuckled. “Let’s hope so.”

The man offered a single laugh, his form bouncing in the process. “Are you enjoying yourselves so far?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” Jeffery fumbled as Rose took a step back. “And I–I am Jeffrey Boen, sir. From Risa.”

“Risa,” Mickey repeated as Jeffery managed a very awkward handshake.

“Yes, sir–and if you ever need–um–accomodations in Risa…”

“I’ll keep you in mind,” the man gave him a nod, “thank you.”

Jeffrey half-smiled. “Thank you, sir!”

“The devil-eggs are to die for,” Ace returned to the conversation. “I assume you’ve had a chance to try them?”

Mickey D laughed again. “I have not, but I’ll be sure to pass along the good word to my chef.”

“Please do,” Ace paused, his lips tugging into a smirk. “So, Mr. D, I have to ask: is this where you live?”

Rose and Jeffrey at once appeared mortified.

“Where I live?” Mickey repeated, his small eyes somehow wider.

“Well, you invited us all here, and it looks like it could be a spectacular place to live–I have no doubt. But, you could also be renting it for an event like this, and live in a more modest home the rest of the time.” Ace paused, glancing over his shoulder to find Rose and Jeffrey had slipped away, and with a small shrug he turned back to Mickey. “Honestly, I'm not sure which I’d prefer, if it were me.”

The man in the pinstripe suit hummed and tipped back the rest of his wine. “This is home for now, I suppose,” he set his empty glass on a nearby table, and a man in a gray suit was quick to swap it out with a new one. “I find I cannot stay in one place for very long these days.”

“It’s nice to travel.”

Mickey again found himself chuckling. “You must be blissfully unaware of my career.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only heard rumors. But rumors aren’t always true.”

Mickey pointed his thick finger at Ace. “I like that.” He then waved the finger in a small circle. “You seem to be empty-handed; can I offer you a drink? Perhaps more devilled eggs?”

“No, thank you–but you definitely need to get some before the tournament.”

“I will, I will,” the grin again found Mickey’s round face.

Ace slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. “So, of all the places you’ve lived, where have you been that’s felt most like home?

“Oh.” Mickey’s face twisted with thought.

“Sir,” the man still holding Mickey’s empty wine glass reminded them of his presence.

“Just a moment, Bernard,” he said, only to pause. “Oh, Mr. Gallagher, this is Bernard. He’s my assistant.”

“Good to meet you,” Ace was much more enthusiastic than Bernard was as they shook hands. In fact, Bernard seemed somewhat taken aback by the introduction in the first place.

“Doesn’t he have a good handshake?” Mickey gestured to Ace before his small eyes narrowed even smaller. “I would have to say, Mr. Gallagher–as an answer to your question,” he thumbed his chin with his fingers, “My birthplace: Trapani. On Earth.”

“Trapani?”

“A small village nestled among blue skies and even bluer waters. Houses built up on the hills, all colorful and perfect. There were grapevines and milk goats along the roads,” his hands reached up, “and lemon trees with their branches spreading out overhead.” 

Ace grinned, watching the man become a very different person as he reminisced about his childhood home.

“You could smell them; you could smell everything. Baking bread and pastas; the salty air and the fish; the spices,” he kissed pinched fingers before letting his hand drop and returning his focus to the present. “That will always be home. I left more than my heart behind when I left there–much more.”

“I can almost imagine it,” Ace nodded with a smile. “I hope you get to go back there someday.”

“As do I; though, I fear I may never will,” he sighed.

“How come?”

“Sir,” Bernard tried again.

The man leaned close to his ear and whispered. Ace was not close enough to catch actual words.

“Ah,” Mickey D straightened his posture. “Thank you, Bernard. Mr. Gallagher,” he turned back to the young man before him, “I regret that I must leave you so I can meet the rest of the entrants into my competition before we begin.”

“Of course; it was great talking with you.”

He pointed at Ace as he shuffled away with Bernard. “We are not finished yet!”

“I hope you’re right!” Ace returned the point and rocked on his feet, his dress shoes creaking on the floor. He smiled wistfully, recounting the man’s story of his more, though the smile dulled when he remembered the real reason he was gathering such information. He had to remember Mickey D had hinted at leaving something behind in Trapani–evidence, perhaps? Some of his fortune? Or was it much less incriminating–like memories or family members?

“I can’t believe you,” Rose was standing beside Ace long before he had noticed her, and he leapt and turned toward her fuming expression. “Did you not hear anything we said about Mickey D??”

“What?” Ace eyed her. “Did he ever seem upset or threatening from your view across the room?”

Rose narrowed her eyes, her lips parted. “You just got lucky,” she muttered.

“Did I?”

“See for yourself.”

Grumpily, Ace followed her gaze to their right, and he found Mickey D, and Bernard, confronting a man in a simple dress shirt and slacks, his hands raised in defense.

“What–what do you mean?” The man asked, taking a step back.

Mickey D’s soft words were too difficult to hear over the other conversations in the room, but his hands gestured in a circle and then to the front door they were standing in front of. He then pointed at Bernard.

The man almost crumbled before him, falling to his knees and taking Mickey’s hands.

Mickey shooed him away, gesturing to Bernard.

Still inaudible, the man was pulled from his feet and ushered through the door as he covered his face in his hands.

“That,” Rose stressed, “ is what happens.”

Ace remained silent, watching the scene carefully as Mickey D turned and toddled away from the door just as casually as he had arrived. Bernard returned a moment later, brushing his hands on his coat before rejoining his master in the middle of the room.

“Poor fellow was probably under-dressed.” Rose tilted her chin.

“That’s not what that seemed like,” Ace pondered aloud.

The woman eyed him. “You really don’t know Mickey D, do you.”

“Mi scusi,” the man inquisition announced suddenly. His hands were raised outward, tugging his jacket up on his rotund frame. “If I can have your attention, please, everyone.”

All sound in the room dropped to silence. The gentle music that had been wafting through the background and every conversation stopped. All eyes were now on the man of the hour.

“The tournament will begin in just a moment, but I must lay out the rules before we begin.” He lowered his arms and clamped his hands together at his waist. “There are four tables in the ballroom: sit at one of them. There will be five players at each table, and each player will begin with the same value of chips as the other. You will all play until you run out of chips, until only one remains at each table.” He opened his hands. “Those lucky four get to join me at my table for the conclusion of the tournament. Are there any questions?”

When no one else spoke, the man bowed his chin to his chest. “Bona furtuna.”

With that, the great doors at his back clanked open, revealing an extravagant ballroom with four brightly colored poker tables near each corner–and a fifth in the center of the room where Mickey D was heading toward. The other participants slowly began shuffling inside and choosing their places at the tables.

“Hold it,” Rose’s hand clamped onto Ace’s wrist. “I want to keep an eye on you.”

“Fine with me,” Ace glanced at her. “I like the look of that front left table.”

She slipped her hand around his arm and gathered the edge of her skirt. “Then, lead the way, Ace Gallagher.”

---
Scene Notes

• A longer chapter, but it needed to get a lot established.
• Risa is know as the "pleasure planet" ... I'll let you look up more if you want :D
• The Sicilian side of my family is from Trapani, so that was another nod to them :)

Gemini’s open mouth turned into a clenched frown. “Who are you??”

“Ugh,” the man groaned and turned around, taking a few leisurely paces across the floor. “I see the captain hasn’t spoken of me; what a pity.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You’ve really missed out on a lot of fun,” he grinned wide.

“Who are you??” She asked again, bold enough to take a step forward. “How do you know who I am?”

“I am Q!” He spun around on his heels as he opened his arms wide. “Master of Time and Space! Possessor of Unimaginable Power! Part of an Immortal Collective! Knower of All Things!” He bent his arms and crossed them across his chest. “And you are Gemini.”

She bit her lip as he stepped up to her again.

“An Igne-Aravasti–a fire-wielder!” He began to pace around her. “The lone survivor of the planet Aravast; the last of her kind,” he paused, “Well, almost; I suppose Joker counts,” he nodded in the direction Ace had previously left.

She blinked through her confusion. “How do you–”

“I am Q! I know everything!” He again held out his hands. “My goodness; you listen about as well as Jean-Luc!”

She huffed through her annoyance and carefully watched as Q wandered through the shuttle. “What do you want with me?”

“I want to know,” he turned back around, “why someone as powerful as you–the last of your kind–would settle for a life in Starfleet!”

Gemini frowned as she began to follow his movements. “I thought you were the ‘Knower of All Things’.”

“Ooh,” Q’s lips pursed. “You’re as fiery as I had hoped!”

“Well?” She turned to stand in front of him.

Q slipped a hand behind Gemini and leaned against the wall. “Try as I might, Ms. Gemini, I can’t seem to figure out why you would lower yourself to such a state.”

“Lower?” She tilted her head.

“Come, now,” he nearly spat the words. “Living in a floating disc in space? Following strict orders and vying for trivial promotions? And let's not forget: you can’t even use your own power on the ship without deactivating the fire suppression system!”

For the first time in their conversion, Gemini’s eyes lost their focus and drifted aside.

Q noticed this and grinned. “Yes,” he leaned closer to her. “All that power, running through your veins, and you can only use it on away missions and in the holodeck.” His eyes slid to their corners to peer at her. “And to further add insult to injury, you married a common–boring–human.”

A flame sparked behind Gemini’s glasses. “He is far from common.”

“Of course he is,” Q’s sarcastic smile narrowed his eyes.

“Then what would you have proposed?”

“Someone as unique as you!” Q pushed away from the wall. “Someone as powerful as you,” he grasped a clenched fist in front of her. “Honestly, I wonder if Joker would have been a better option.”

“Gah!” Gemini grunted and shoved him away. “If you know so much, you’d know Ace and I share the same DNA!”

“True; those sneaky Bareans just had to intercept a sample of your genetic material headed to Federation Headquarters, and then had to use it to create more enemies for their misguided race to intercept–and poor Joker ended up as one of those victims.” He crossed his arms. “What a pity; the two of you could have had some incredibly powerful children…”

The Aravasti winced and clenched her fists. “No! I am married to Hudson Rowlett, and I am very happy with my marriage and my life on the Enterprise!” She scowled, noting the red uniform and communication badge. “You’re not even an officer, are you?”

“Heavens, no,” he rolled his eyes.

“So, now that you’ve showed up and critiqued my life choices,” she huffed, “is that all?”

“Is that all…” Q laughed as he uncrossed his arms. “Oh, Gemini, I don’t think so.”

Her eyes darted as Q raised his hand.

He snapped his finger once.

---
Scene Notes

• Not gonna lie, Q is fun to write :D