From: nakazawa@phakt.usc.edu (Rei Nakazawa) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative,alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: NEW STORY: "Leap Year" (4/6) Date: 9 Nov 1995 23:28:49 -0800 Organization: University of Southern California, Los Angeles, CA Message-Id: <47uuvh$q55@phakt.usc.edu> Al recoiled in shock. One minute he was watching Sam confront that new Leaper, the next... the Imaging Chamber holographic view vanished entirely, leaving him in an empty blue room. He pounded furiously at his hand link, trying to bring back the image, trying to bring back Sam. He couldn't. He opened the door and ran out, where Gooshie and Tina were working frantically. "Gooshie! What happened? Where the hell is Sam?" "I don't know, Admiral!" the little man said in a panic. "He just... vanished!" Ziggy spoke up. "I calculate a 91.2% chance that Dr. Beckett has Leaped." "Leaped?" Al asked. "How? He..." His brain exploded. "She did it..." "Admiral?" Gooshie asked in disbelief. "She did it! Somehow she did it! Ziggy, what are the chances that that other computer, Lothos... what are the chances that he caused Sam to Leap?" Ziggy was silent for only a moment, but it seemed to Al an eternity. "89.9%." "But how is that possible?" Gooshie asked, his question echoing Al's unspoken one. "Even if they did have the technology to force a Leap, their computer would have to be calibrated with Dr. Beckett's genetic pattern before they could even try such a thing!" "Usually," Ziggy said. "Not this time." "What are you talking about?" Al asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. "As I was trying to explain earlier, Admiral Calavicci, it's a leap year." "So? What does that have to do with Sam's disappearance?" "Everything. The leap year is more than a convenience of the calendar, Admiral. February 29th is a day in which temporal forces warp, when there's a bump, if you will, in the time stream. Strings cross where they might not usually have crossed, strange things happen. I theorize that Lothos could very well have taken advantage of this warping, and was able to Leap Dr. Beckett." Al's face set into a cold, grim expression. Sam in the hands of those monsters... "Gooshie! Tina! I want you and Ziggy to find Dr. Beckett. Work around the clock, take as much power as you need, but find Sam!" "What are you going to do, Al?" Tina asked. "I'm going to get something to eat. I have a feeling I won't have another chance for a while." When Sam finally recovered consciousness, his vision and thinking were blurred, as if someone had taken the camera of his mind and purposely put it out of focus. As his vision slowly resolved itself, he managed to look about. The last thing he remembered was feeling a Leap... but that was impossible, wasn't it? After all, he definitely hadn't finished what he was there to do. Then, as his surroundings stopped running together, he saw it: the mirrored walls, reflected in where Sam Beckett was supposed to be a tall black man wearing a Fermi suit. It was then he realized that the impossible had happened; he had Leaped. And since this place definitely did not look like the Waiting Room, then this must be... Sam stood up like a shot, or at least tried to. His still weak legs collapsed from underneath him, and he tumbled unceremoniously back onto the floor. How could this be? How could they have Leaped him without his genetic make-up, or at least being in contact with someone else at the very moment of Leap? His foggy memory answered with the date he'd been in when he Leaped: February 29, 1956. February 29... a leap year. The one day that his string theory ran into problems with. The nature of that day wreaked havoc with his equations, the only time that ever happened. Here was proof of that day's strange effects. "W-who are you?" A small, scared voice from a corner of the room grabbed Sam's attention. There, huddled and shivering, was Monica. No, Sam had to remind himself that she wasn't Monica, but more than likely Michelle Wharton, the real Michelle Wharton. "You're one of them, aren't you?" "No," Sam said quietly, finally succeeding in standing. "I'm not..." "You are!" Michelle shrieked, trying desperately to compact herself even more against the perceived threat. "I remember you! You're working for that Lothos thing!" "Please, Michelle, I'm just trying to help." "See! You knew my name! You must be one of them!" "Michelle..." He stepped forward. "Don't touch me!" She balled up, sobbing. She had obviously been through a lot; there was only one way to convince her, moving quickly so she wouldn't have time to react, Sam jumped forward and touched her hand. Once again, electricity seemed to flow between them in that moment of skin to skin contact, and Monica's face slowly became Michelle Wharton's. At this, she looked up, startled. "You're-you're not him. Who are you?" "My name is Sam Beckett. I'm a scientist, and a Leaper, sort of like Monica." "Monica?" "The woman you look like now. I've been trying to stop her for a long time, and Lothos captured me." Michelle frowned in suspicion. "How do I know I can trust you?" "You can't," Sam admitted. "But I think we both need someone to trust right now." Michelle stared into his eyes, searching for the truth. She saw his sympathy, his sadness, and found what she was looking for. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Beckett." She offered a hand. "Nice to finally meet you, too." He shook it firmly and warmly. "Aww, how touching." The booming baritone seemed to fill the room. Sam looked around, trying to find the source. Michelle, however, uttered a little shriek and began to cower again. "It's him!" Sam stood. "Lothos, I assume?" "You assume correctly, Dr. Beckett. Ah, it's nice to finally meet you at last." "I wish I could say the same thing." Lothos chuckled. "True, but I'm the one with the weapons." A huge electrode descended from the ceiling. Michelle screamed and hid her head. "Where am I?" Sam demanded. "When am I?" "There's that scientific curiosity again, eh? Well, to answer your first question, you're in an underground complex in northeastern Canada. It used to be a government weapons research facility. As for when, the year is 2009. And you, Dr. Beckett, have been a very naughty boy!" "And you want to spank me, is that it?" "Well, to put it delicately: are you ready for pain, Dr. Beckett?" Sam, despite himself, began pacing the cramped room. "This isn't going to work, Lothos. You thrive on fear, don't you? You need it; you enjoy it. Well, I'm not afraid. You don't have any real power, not where it counts. Alia is proof of that; she was able to escape you. If I have to die, I'll go knowing that she's free, and you can't touch her." There was a long, tense silence. "You really think you're so smart, don't you, Beckett?" No response. "Well, I see that it's hopeless trying to hurt you right now." The electrode turned. "So I'll just have to hurt her." Michelle screamed in terror. "NO!" Sam rushed forward, but it was too late. Three bolts of electricity shot outwards, plunging Michelle into waves of intense pain. She screamed again in sheer agony. "Help me! Make it stop!" Her words then turned incoherent as she drowned in anguish. "Stop! You're killing her!" "I believe that's the general idea, Doctor." "Stop it! I'm the one you want... I'll do anything you ask." Immediately, the electricity stopped. Sam ran to her side and began examining her. Any physical damage was minor compared to her pain, which would pass; with some rest, she should recover in time. "That's much better, Dr. Beckett. Much better than your tiresome blathering. Watch your mouth, Doctor. Or she just might have to be hurt again. And we don't want that, do we?" The door ground open. First two mean looking, uniformed men with large, strange looking rifles, as well as holstered sidearms stepped through the open door, taking positions on each side of it. Then two more people entered, one a tall woman with black hair set up in a bun, wearing a white lab coat over a simple blouse and skirt. The other, a man, was even taller than the woman, and was strangely familiar looking to Sam. He too wore a white lab coat, over a white shirt and casual slacks. Both regarded Sam and Michelle with something like detached amusement. "Allow me to introduce two of Project Hades' loyal staff," Lothos said. "This is Dr. Veronica DeLuce, the Project psychiatrist, and Dr. Warren Brewster, our doctor and 'persuasion technician.'" "Persuasion technician?" Sam asked, at the same time realizing what that title meant. "And what do you people need for a psychiatrist?" "My job is most likely not like your Dr. Beeks," DeLuce said flatly. "My job is to work with Dr. Brewster and take full advantage of his... research. What he finds out quite often compliments my research, also." "Research," Sam snorted. "Into human pain and suffering?" "As a matter of fact, yes." DeLuce said this as any other person would remark that it was raining outside. "You obviously don't understand. One of the things that this project offers us, all of us, is unlimited research funds. The greater good must take precedence over the pain of a few." Sam seethed. "That kind of attitude is what gives science a bad name." "And you're totally innocent, are you?" Brewster laughed. "Did you think of that when you ruined my grand-uncle, Raymond Brewster?" Sam froze. His Swiss-cheese memory barely allowed him to remember a past Leap, when he was Jake Andrews, a small town businessman who was presumed dead, almost buried, in fact. His wife was having an affair... Brewster smiled. "You remember, don't you? Lord, I've been waiting for the day I'd meet you, ever since Lothos found out..." He stopped, wiping his eyes casually. "He was sentenced to twenty five years in prison. But he wasted away and died before his sentence was up. He never forgot that Andrews woman, and the fact that she was taken from him... by you." He turned a piercing glare at Sam. "This will be a pleasure." "Precisely why I called you in," Lothos said. "Take him away." The guards marched forward and grabbed each of Sam's arms. He put up a brief struggle, but stopped when one of the guards pointed his rifle at Michelle. "Stop!" Michelle shouted, though unable to move. "Put him down!" She watched helplessly as all five left the room. "Admiral, I have located Dr. Beckett." Al was there in an instant. "Where? Where is he?" "I have isolated his location to a cave in northeastern Canada on August 27, 2009." "2009?" Al asked in disbelief. "I'm also detecting in this place and era a center of temporal disturbance." "That means..." Al paled. "They do have him. Good God, Sam! Fire up the Imaging Chamber, now!" He ran up the ramp and dashed into the open door. He watched with impatience as it shut behind him and a whirlpool image swirled around him, scanning, searching for Sam Beckett. "C'mon, Sam, please be okay..." Finally, after an eternity, the whirlpool began to widen and flatten, until it formed a 3-D hologram all around him. Al found himself in a large, cavernous room, much like the main control room of Project Quantum Leap, except the large console in the middle of the room was a clear, glowing, upside-down pyramid, with the usual buttons. And where Ziggy's blue globe usually hung, there was a red, upside-down triangle, bursting with an evil glow. But no sign of... "Sam!" Two armed gorillas were leading him to the middle of the room. He looked none the worse for wear, but he knew that appearances could be deceiving. Two other people took up the rear, watching the whole thing with tight smiles that Al could only describe as pure evil. "Sam!" Sam, thus called, looked up with a happy and relieved expression, but didn't say a thing. "Okay, I know you can't talk back, but I'll get you out of here, kid. I promise." He began pressing his hand link. "Ziggy, start scanning all this stuff. Give me anything that might help us get Sam out." As he said this, a blue beam of light poured from his hand link, looking this way and that, and Al began poking his head through the large control console. "Hey, this stuff looks like..." "So, Dr. Beckett, how are you enjoying your little tour so far?" Lothos' question was met with silence. "Quite impressive, eh? A... quantum leap ahead of the technology you used." More silence. "Don't feel like talking? I understand; you'll be doing quite a bit of it by the time we're done with you." "Do you want him alive at the end of his treatment?" DeLuce asked. "I suppose. It'll give everyone a chance at him." A rumbling laugh filled the room. "I'll contact the Project Head." "Sam, this is getting scary," Al told him with wide eyes. "I've had Ziggy scan the design of this Lothos, and this thing and Ziggy are 82.4% alike in design." "82.4%?" Sam couldn't resist saying, though his voice dropped into a whisper. "That can't be a coincidence, can it?" "Nope. Ziggy says that Lothos is basically her, with a few modifications." "How the hell did..." One of the guards slapped the back of Sam's head viciously. "Shut up! The Project Head is here." A tall, thin man dressed in a conservative gray suit stepped into view. His face was mild, yet behind it was palpable malice. Despite his sieve like memory, his face suddenly shoved its way into Sam's head, despite the history changes that had wrought it so that the two had never met before that moment. Once, when his own actions unwittingly killed Al as a young Navy pilot, another man replaced him, albeit briefly, while Al was "dead." It was this man. It was Edward St. John. "You..." he whispered. St. John blinked. "You remember me? After all these years?" "In a way," Sam answered enigmatically. St. John frowned in thought, then shook his head, clicking his tongue. "You have been quite a thorn in our side, Samuel." "You should talk," Al snorted. "Who are you?" Sam asked. "Why are you doing this?" "Oh, you can't possibly be that naive, Beckett. For the money, of course. You see, a consortium of financiers is backing this Project, and is quite happy to contribute oodles of money in exchange for a little change in history here and there. We really are learning quite a lot with active change, Dr. Beckett, not like your uncontrolled Leaping, so tedious and unpredictable." Al's eyes narrowed. "I'd like to show this guy unpredictable. I'll stay with you, Sam, while Ziggy tries to figure out who he is. Though... I swear I've seen his face before." "Bring him into my office," St. John commanded. He did not put any particular emphasis or malice in his tone, but the guards obeyed as if hot coals had been put in their pants. Each held onto one of Sam's shoulders and pushed him up one of the ramps, down a well lighted hallway reminiscent of Sam's own foggy memories of the Project, and to a well-armored door set at the end. The door ground open; first St. John entered, then the guards shoved Sam in and took up positions on either side of the door as it slammed shut. The office was spartan, virtually undecorated, except for a model ship and a framed photograph of some wooded area. St. John sat casually behind his oak desk, tapping his index fingers together as he leaned back in his seat. "Like our good Dr. Brewster, I've been waiting for this moment for quite a long time. We didn't know you'd show up to try to stop Monica, but when you did, the opportunity was too great to resist. How are you enjoying your stay?" "As much as I can," Sam said without the slightest seriousness in his tone. "I'm really quite proud of what I've built here," St. John continued as if Sam had never answered. "It took a long time to put together after my rejection; years to find enough financiers, and even longer to find qualified staff who could be lured with promises of wealth, power, unlimited research funds, and all that rot, but it was all worth it. After my rejection, I could finally pursue my theories, and show you once and for all who should have led Project Quantum Leap." St. John smiled a terrible smile. Al's hand link squealed. "Sam! That's it! This guy, Edward St. John, was one of the designers of the Project. He tried to get control of it right before we started, but he was fired for making unauthorized changes and experiments in the design." Sam abruptly remembered St. John: a brilliant man, but quite stiff and serious. He worked with him fairly often when Ziggy and the Project were past the "imagination stage," but always felt uncomfortable around him for some reason. Looking at the man now, glaring at him from behind that desk, he could see why. "It's difficult to maintain discipline here, since this Project is not government funded, and many of the staff are not... strictly professional. Fortunately, Lothos helps with that." St. John smiled again. "I doubt that Admiral Calavicci has been able to find us yet, but even if he has, I welcome his presence." Al jumped in surprise, though Sam tried his best not to react. "Lothos will take care of that presently, and I want him to be around and share in your suffering. There's more than enough of it to go around, I can guarantee that." He stood, toying with a pen as he circled Sam like a hungry shark. "You should be proud, Samuel. In a way, this is all for you." Sam's mind switched from wondering how Lothos was going to "take care" of Al to this new riddle. "For me?" "Yes. After I was so rudely fired from the Project, simply for trying to help, I became determined to found my own Project, free from petty government restraints, and show the world the progress I'd make. Our dear Dr. DeLuce pointed out to me that one possible reason for my driving ambition in this regard was the knowledge that, in Lothos' workings, I'd eventually meet up with you. Oh yes, I found out what happened in the Project after I was fired, and found it quite fascinating, to say the least. Anyway, I knew that someday I'd find you, and be able to tell you to your face how inferior your work turned out to be to mine. To tell you how much fun it was to undo all your precious changes in the past, and to prove to you my superiority!" As he progressed, his tone became louder and shriller, his fist pumping in the air, as if saluting himself and his glory. "But why?" Sam asked hoarsely. "If you wanted me so badly, why not go after me, instead of hurting all those other people? Why did you have to ruin their lives?" "Because it was fun," St. John said mildly. Al shook his head in disgust. "Who gave you the right to do that?" Sam pressed. "Who gave me the right?" St. John repeated, his voice dropping. "Who gave _you_ the right, Beckett? Who gave you the right to warp the past, ruin lives the way you ruined Brewster's? Who gave you the right to undo all my hard earned changes? Who gave you the right to go BUNGLING about in time, putting right what I made wrong?!!" St. John was screaming now, but Sam didn't notice. An awful flashback, though blurry, replayed in his mind, of someone else, someone unspeakably horrible, saying much those same words to him... Al...? St. John took advantage of Sam's momentary confusion, slapping him across the face. Before Sam could recover, St. John kicked him in the stomach, in the groin, in the chest, until Sam was lying panting on the floor. Al, his face twisted in anger, tried unsuccessfully to stop St. John as he twice stomped on Sam's head. There was no blood, but Sam's face was a picture of pain. "You bastard..." Al snarled. "If I wasn't a hologram, I'd make you regret that." St. John's face returned to its normal blandness as he straightened his coat lapels. "Now, then, it's time to hand you over to the professionals." He strolled over to his desk and pressed a button set into it. The door slid open, and the two guards from outside marched in and picked up a limp Sam from the floor. "Take him to the doctors for his... treatment." The guards grinned wickedly, and St. John followed suit as Sam was dragged out of the office. "This will be fun," Lothos cackled as Sam was brought back before him. One of the guards tossed a bundle towards Sam. "Put this on. We'll need the Fermi suit later." Sam glanced in askance at the strange garments; they looked more like something Al would wear on one of his weirder days, but seeing the hard glares from the armed guards, decided to put them on. Brewster leered and DeLuce stared with ill-disguised lust as Sam stripped and put on Thames' outfit. "But first, we need to take care of business." There was a pause, and a crackling filled the air, as if the room had been suffused with static electricity. Al watched with concern. Sam suddenly looked stricken, and began looking about frantically. "Al? Al, where'd you go?" Al frowned in confusion and concern. "Huh? Sam, I'm right here! Sam!" But Sam didn't seem to hear him; he simply continued to look for him, stare right at him, unseeing. Lothos chuckled. "I've taken the liberty of setting up a wave scrambler I've calibrated with information on your neurons and mesons obtained when I Leaped you. Oh, Admiral Calavicci is still here; I've just blocked out the image. It takes quite a bit of power, even for me, but it's worth it, don't you think?" Sam's face fell. "Dammit, Ziggy, can't you do anything?" Al shouted. He sighed deeply. "Okay, keep working on it, and keep scanning Lothos; we have to get Sam out of here now!" "Ah!" Lothos said. "I have something you'll want to see, Dr. Beckett." A beam of red light shot out of Lothos' triangle, forming a large holographic image in the middle of the room, much like a 3-D television picture... The scene was the gym where Sam had been not too long before. Monica was shoving her way towards the floor while Thames was heading towards where Jeff was sitting. He finally made it, tapping Jeff on the shoulder. "Jeff?" Jeff looked up. "Tyler, I don't want to talk now..." "I don't wanna talk, man. Take a look over there." He pointed towards the court. Jeff followed his finger just in time to see Monica grab one of the opposing team's players and kiss him passionately. The surprised player quickly melted, gladly reciprocating. Many of the spectators began to ooh and hoot, some turning immediately towards a reddening Jeff. "Noooooooo!!!" Thames dove out of the way as Jeff stood, whipping out his pistol and firing. The player Monica was kissing immediately collapsed, a red stain growing on his jersey. Chaos ensued; everywhere players and spectators alike were screaming and running for cover as a pair of policemen who were among the crowd fought the wave of runners, trying to get to Jeff. He fired again and again, a young man and a cheerleader fell, the former shot in the back, the latter in the head. One of the policemen managed to reach Jeff, grabbing his arm, but Jeff swung the weapon around and fired point- blank into the cop's face. Even as the officer slid to the floor, two more reports rang out, and two more people were dead. Then, abruptly, sanity seemed to return to Jeff's eyes; he looked about, saw the carnage, saw the panic, saw the remaining cops rapidly closing in, saw Monica's face in a convincing mask of fear and rejection looking balefully up at him. He made his decision, mechanically bringing the pistol up to his head. No one but Thames was close enough to stop him, and he didn't want to. Before the cops could reach him, Jeff pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot seemed to ring through time, and it did. "NO!" Sam screamed, diving for the picture, which faded even as he passed through it, and he landed unceremoniously on the floor. DeLuce burst out laughing, her cruel, mocking tones echoing through the room, surrounding Sam, filling him... Continued in part 5...