From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: No Escape From Reality Part 3 Date: 24 Mar 1993 22:38:45 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA) Lines: 111 Message-Id: <1oqntl$lph@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Nntp-Posting-Host: thor.ins.cwru.edu Part 3 The center of the Captain's concern had no idea how long he'd been out, and woke up again in the same room. For several minutes he kept his eyes closed, hoping it had all been a bad dream. He thought fleetingly of Havenwell, and wishing, for a moment, that he was in that situation other than this. Something told him he'd fallen into something far worse than electroshock. Even Al's confident presence was denied him here, or so he surmised. Slowly, by degrees, he opened his eyes, cautiously glancing around the room. Yellow Eyes was watching, like a hawk ready to pounce, he thought, but with out maliscious intent. "Ah, you're awake." Data slid into a chair by the bed, anxious to speak to the stranger. "I did some checking on the year you mentioned, and San Francisco, as in regards to the Guardian. It seems..." "The Guardian?" Confusion again, as if these strange people were speaking a new languege. "That's where we found you. Do you have a name?" "Sam." He took a deep breath. It didn't seem he had a choice but to trust this man, and the others, even the linebacker. "Sam Beckett." Data's mind collected the words, assimilated, eyes widening. "Not THE Sam Beckett? Creator of the subatomic hybrid computer? What were you doing in the streams of time?" "I don't know." Sam knew he sounded as if he were unintelligent, but this conversation was skating too close to the Project. His instinct was telling him that he not tell these people of that, not yet. "But you are the physicist that created Ziggy?" "How did you know that? "It's part of my history, too. When Dr. Noonian Singh created me and my brother he used some of your components. The very circuits you created, if you are that Sam Beckett." "Yes, I am." Sam tried to sit up and found something was preventing him from even that movement. "Could you...?" he asked, glancing pleadingly at Data. "You are being held by a neural field, low density. I'm not allowed to disrupt it, but I will ask the Captain or Dr. Crusher." He touched his fingers to his communicator, requesting either the doctor or Captain Picard. "A communication device," Sam whispered, eyes fastened on the neat broach- like instrument fastened on Yellow Eyes's chest. Neural fields, the bed, the uniforms... Suddenly he realized he must have somehow ended up in a place far ahead of his own time. How? His mind was a blur, not recalling anything of the last few moments before he ended up here. Dark depression filled him, and hopelessness. It was almost impossible to return home from this place, and Al... This wasn't a Leap, he suddenly realized. "Could you please hand me a mirror?" He hoped he didn't look as desperate as his voice sounded. "There is one on the wall," Data answered, curious at the man's strange request. "When Dr. Crusher releases you from the field, you can use it. Why do you need to see your reflection." "It's complicated, but trust me, it's important, too." His eyes wandered to the doors that opened with such ease, not unlike the ones at his Project. Internal implants, perhaps, like the ones there, that opened the doors when someone with an encoded pass or those strange communicators neared them. "Well, you're awake! I'm Dr. Beverly Crusher." Her voice was soft, smile sweet, and Sam couldn't help but like her and this strange admiring man next to him. "How are you feeling?" "Confused and a little worried." Sam sighed, pressing back against the mattress. "I don't think you need to keep me pinned to this bed, and it's only making me more nervous then I already am." "The field was activated for your own protection, but I think we can remove it now." She quickly pressed the overhead panel, releasing the man from the field. "I'm sorry to cause you any discomfort." Her patient was handsome, she thought, and vulnerable with that strange lock of silver falling over his forehead. "Are you thinking more clearly than you were?" "Not Swiss Cheesed, I think." He glanced at Data, who's head snapped up at the strange referenece. "Where is that mirror?" "Mirror?" Beverly frowned, assisting the man from the bed. The moment he saw his reflection he knew his worst fears were realized. He was himself, and this wasn't a Leap. If that was so, he thought, a sinking feeling touching his stomach, Al and the Project were cut off from him. There would be no contact, no Ziggy, and, possibly, no Leaps ever again. "My God," he whispered, hands reaching up to stroke his cheeks, taking in the worn visage reflected in front of him. "I'm stuck here." Breaking away from the woman's grasp, he slumped back on the bed, his mind a whirl of questions. "My name is Dr. Sam Beckett. Where am I? What year is this?" "You're on a sort of...well, ship." She'd called the Captain and hoped he'd arrive soon so she'd know how much information was prudent to give this man. "As for time...as in years? Earth years?" His feeling grew worse. She spoke of the planet as ifit were one of many. "Yes, please, uh, Earth years." more to come. -- "Girls who have glasses have lots & lots of energy!" Al--Single Drop of Rain Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu--Assistant Sysop The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI