From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: No Escape From Reality   Part 8
Date: 3 Apr 1993 18:08:54 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Lines: 122
Message-Id: <1pkjrm$4ni@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu


Part 8

Twenty four hours passed, Al biting his nails and trying to stay out of
Gooshies way.  He spent most of his time in his office, waiting for world
of Sam's return.  A knock at the door made his head rise hopefully.

The programmers face was hardened into stricken lines.  "I'm sorry,
Admiral," he began.

"Don't say it," Al cut in.  
"He's not dead."

"We can't find him.  If we checked further, it would be useless.  You can
verify our readings, every aspect of the search, and you'll find nothing.
God, I wish it wasn't so, but..."

"Thank you, Gooshie."  Al's voice was soft and dark, hiding his inner fears.
"Get some sleep.  You look like you could use it."

"Im so sorry, Admiral."

"Okay, just...go."  Al locked the door behind the man, and went to his
liquor cabinet.  The first drink went down, then, another.  It had been
years since he'd consumed the stuff, in deference to certain promises he'd
made.  Before he realized it, he'd drained the half bottle of harsh whiskey,
and started on a second one.  Shot after shot downed, a burning trail
to try to cloud his mind against the reality of what he must face now.  Sam
Beckett had succeeded in proving his theory...and died without even coming
home.  He'd lost the only friend he'd ever had that treated him with respect
not kissing his butt, or wincing in fear when his temper flared.  They
d
spent more time clearing the air with wingbang arguements then they did 
patronizing each other.  Christ, he missed those days, working with the
kid, pouring every bit of living blood into the Project.  Sam's "Feed
me Ziggy," programming the computer, with Al giving him information until
his voice broke, giving out the numbers and words in a harsh whisper until
both men collapsed with exhaustion.

The liquor numbed, but did not kill the fire that built in him.  There
had to be something else he could do, to find Sam and return him to where
he belonged.  He staggared from the office and down the empty halls of eh
Project. The walls echoed silence, almost a funeral atmosphere, the place
nearly empty of activity.  Most of the techs had gone home after their
fruitless search, or to their quarters.  The door to Control opened silently
in front of him and Al staggared into the nerve center, taking another
swallow from the bottle he held.  Computer paper littered the floor.  
Obviously, the janitor was occupied elsewhere, or had been ordered out.
Even Ziggy was silent, probably upset at the fact that it had failed
to find it's creator.  His vision fuzzy from the amount of drink he'd 
downed, he glanced over the printouts, read what seemed to be a finality.
There wasn't any indication that Sam Beckett lived out there, not on 
these sheafs of computer paper, not a blip, just flat lines that indicated
timeflow and nothing more.

"Something.  Nothing."  Al hurled the empty bottle against the wall,
causing Ziggy's dome to blink once, but no sound.  Glass shattered, drops
of liquor staining the immaculate whiteness.  An insane idea was building
in his mind, caused by the alcohol or maybe just desperation.  In
an hour, perhaps less, the place would be busy again, techs, office 
personnel, and others that would prevent him from carrying out his plan.

"Ziggy?"

Silence greeted his query.

"Ziggy, damn it, talk to me or so help me God, I'll rip you apart!"

HELLO, ADMIRAL.  I'M VERY DEPRESSED RIGHT NOW.  PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

"I don't give a dan about your emotional state!  Help me find Sam, you
pile of nuts and bolts!"  He moved behind the panel, remembering easily,
even with his booze numbed brain, the proper sequence he had to feed into
the computer. "I'm going in after him!"

ADMIRAL, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE.  I WON'T ALLOW IT.

Red faced with anger, Al looked up at the computer, his dark eyes narrowing
into slits.  "Sam goes, you go, too.  The U.S. Government takes charge.
I'm not covering your butt, so either you help me out, or we're both out
of a job."  He straightened, hands on hips.  "Are you with me, or am I 
on my own here?"

I DON'T WANT TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR DEATH, TOO, ADMIRAL.  IF BOTH
YOU AND DR. BECKETT SHOULD BE LOST....

"I'm telling you he's not dead." Al worked the panel.  "I will bring him
back."

EVERY INDICATION...

"I don't care!"  He roared the words upward, keeping his eyes on the settings.
"I'm not leaving him out there alone.  Now, power up, and get that damn
thing ready, because I'm going in after him!"

AS YOU WISH, ADMIRAL. WHEN DR. BECKETT INITIALLY LEAPED, I COULD NOT SEND
HIM TO A SET POINT, BUT DR. GOOSHE HAS WORKED ON THE PROBLEM.  I HAVE THE
APPROXIMATE POINT WHERE DR. BECKETT SEEMINGLY DISAPPEARED.  IF YOU WISH,
I WILL DIRECTIONALIZE YOU TO THAT PLACE, BUT I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR 
SAFE RETURN.

"Do it, Ziggy!"  He thought briefly about changing into a fermisuit, and
disregarded the thought as unnecessary and time consuming.  Everything was
set, and the low thrum of the powering up was beginning to vibrate the
very walls.  "One more thing--seal this place off, keep people out. I
don't want any outside interference!"

YES, ADMIRAL.  The computer's voice was a little sad, and very worried.
I HOPE YOU DO FIND HIM!

The door to the Accelerator chamber slid open and Al entered the small
room, running to take his place on the platform that had once carried
Sam away.  Mist and steam rose as the blue light wrapped around him.
//God,// he thought, as he felt the first tingling sensation of teh
Leap.  //I hope I remembered my cigars!//

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