From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: No Escape from Reality Part 6
Date: 1 Apr 1993 01:03:32 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Lines: 104
Message-Id: <1pdf14$ort@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu


Part 6

Admiral Albert Calavicci tore through the rooms of the Project, his rage
apparent to the other personnel scattering out of his furious path.  He 
entered the Control Room, facing Gooshie withone of the blistering looks
normally reserved for stuffy Pentagon types who hadn't learned the lay of
the land.  "I got your message," he growled.  "What do you mean by 'he's
gone'?"

The little programmer moved behind the panel in a vain attempt to protect
himself from the Admiral's wrath.  "We've been doing routine checks
through the usual pathways and there's no sign of Dr. Beckett's implant
signal.  Ziggy..."

"Ziggy."  Al turned to face the ceiling, and the bluish monitor that 
softly hummed with power.  "Where's Sam?"

I CANNOT FIND HIM, ADMIRAL.  THIS IS THE LONGEST HE'S GONE WITHOUT LEAPING
INTO A SPECIFIC TIME. I'VE BEEN DOING THE SYSTEM CHECKS AND HE'S SIMPLY
DISAPPEARED.  THERE IS NO INDICATION THAT HE EXISTS IN ANY TIMELINE,
ANYWHERE.  THERE WAS A FLUX IN THE FLOW A WEEK AGO, AND I ACCERTAINED
THAT IT WAS NOT ABNORMAL, BUT NOTHING SINCE THEN.  I MAY HAVE MADE A
WRONG DECISION, AND NOW HE IS GONE.  The computer's voice took on a 
very worried tone.  USUALLY, DR. BECKETT'S ESSENCE IS PRESENT IN FIVE
TO SIX DAYS, SOMEWHERE IN HIS OWN LIFETIME.  SO STRANGE THIS TIME, THAT
HE HAS NOT APPEARED, NOR IS HIS IMPLANT DETECTABLE.

"Can you track Dr. Beckett between leaps?"

IS THIS A TRICK QUESTION?   I CAN TELL YOU THAT I CAN TO A DEGREE.  THERE
IS ALWAYS A MARGINAL SIGNAL, BUT NOW, NOTHING.  I AM VERY CONCERNED,
ADMIRAL.


"So am I, Ziggy, so am I."  Al brushed his hand through his short, curly
hair, avoiding the wide blue eyes of Gooshie looking to him for answers.
He turned to the programmer, knowing anger and demands would get him 
nowhere.  "Is there something I can do to assist?  We have to find the 
kid, Goosh."

"I've been doing all the checks, everything that usually works.  The 
entire Project is on it. All we can dois check again and wait another
twenty-four hours.  If there's nothing after this one..."  His
mustache drooped as his expression darkened.  "We might assume that
Dr. Beckett has..."

"Don't say it," Al snapped.  "Damn it, I'm not going to let taht
bastard take him, not yet."  His temper got the best of him.  "Find him,
or I'm going to take this place apart until we do."

ADMIRAL, I DON'T BELIEVE THAT WOULD ASSIST DR. BECKETT...

"Starting with this damn computer!"  He stormed out of the room, wishing
he could slam the door behind him.  Instead he stalked out of the Project
to the break area; tables, hot wind blowing off the desert, a place he
went when he wanted out and away.  Damn it, Sam Beckett couldn't die,
not this way.  He lit a cigar, not soothing his nerves or energy a bit.
They hadn't even said goodbye, not really.

"I heard there was a thunderstorm passing through."

Al glanced behind him.  Verbena, of course, always on his butt when he lost
his temper.  "Not a cloud in the sky."

"I meant _you_."

"What happened?" he asked, turning his back to her.  
"Gooshie tattle again?"

"He's doing his best, Al."  The attractive psychiatrist rubbed the Admiral's
rock hard shoulders, feeling the tension there.  "You need to relax and
realize that things like this will happen.  Before too long you'll be
complaining about that long elevator ride down to the Imaging Chamber and
all the ensuing madness that another Leap brings us.  Maybe he's even on his
way home."

"No."  Al shook his head, shrugging away from her comforting hands. "This
feels...strange.  Not normal, not this time.  I've got this feeling, and it's
biting my butt.  He's in trouble, and we can't do a thing about it. I even
went down to the Imaging Chamber to see if I could center on him and there
was nothing in there but a whole lot of white.  I hate that place."

"I'll buy you some dinner, a really good steak, and maybe a drink or two."

The dark eyes softened, tempted by her offer.  "Thanks, but no thanks,
'Bena. I don't want to leave. If he should come home he'll want me here.
I can't take a chance that I'll miss that."

The psychiatrist nodded in agreement.  "I'll be here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, and I might take you up on that--later."  Al sat at the table,
staring across the expanse of desert, not really seeing it.  He heard
the door shut behind Beeks and sighed. She tried her best with him, but, at
times, he must frustrate the hellout of her patient soul.  All he really
wanted now was to see Sam Beckett across this table, like so many years
before, looking pensive and preoccupied, but here, and alive.  Damn it all,
he wanted him home.

more to come--happy birthday, Marsh!
-- 
"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