VIRTUAL SEASONS EPISODES

PROLOGUE

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

April 23, 2004

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico in the spring. Wildlife that normally forgoes the daylight heat of the desert was out foraging for food in the moderate April temperatures. Little yellow wildflowers grew everywhere before the scorching heat of summer ended their brief lives. Some of these wildflowers blew in the breeze as Samantha Josephine Fuller pulled up in front of the Crossroads Diner on the outskirts of Stallion’s Gate. Many a time she had eaten there at odd hours on her way to and from the project. Today she had an invitation to lunch. Walking through the glass door a smartly dressed woman in her early thirties immediately greeted her.

“Doctor Fuller! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” said Susan Forrester smiling at her with one eyebrow cocked up slightly.

“Good to meet you, too! First, it’s not that much trouble and second, please call me Sammy Jo. I never hear the “doctor” title. We’re pretty informal around here,” Sammy Jo said shaking her hand and then slipping into the booth seat across from her.

“Then you must call me Sue, um.. Sammy Jo,” she replied a little uncomfortably.

“So, Sue, how is your book coming on? Tackling the great minds of the twentieth century is quite a project. I look forwarded to reading it. I hope I can help you out in my own little way. I don’t think that anyone REALLY knows the good Doctor Beckett,” explained Sammy Jo as she folded her hands and looked into Sue’s eyes that seemed to twitch just a bit.

Susan caught the twitching and looked very determined at Sammy Jo. “It may be quite a while before THAT particular book sees a publisher. You see I really work for The National Inquisitionor though it is Doctor Samuel Beckett that I am interested in, Sammy Jo.”

“Whoa! What the hell are you talking about? So I’m here under false pretensions? I shall not be a party to digging up dirt to soil Sam Beckett’s good name! And I do not appreciate being used and taken advantage of. This interview IS terminated. Goodbye, MISS Forrester!” Sammy Jo declared as her the color in her face flashed crimson.

Sammy Jo angrily picked up her purse scraping her knees on the table. Taking three steps toward the door Susan Forrester called out, “Doctor Beckett is the person I am really want to speak to. Have you seen him lately?”

Sammy Jo stopped and turned, as the anger in her eyes did not show her concern at the question. “Doctor Beckett is extremely busy in his work and does not give interviews to members of the press!”

A slight smile came to Susan Forrester’s lips. “The Doctor’s address is 245 West 34^th Street, Stallions’ Gate, New Mexico and yet in two weeks of investigation I have not found one person who has seen him. Not one person in over nine years. He is not here in Stallion’s Gate, DOCTOR Fuller. No one has seen him or has any idea where he is at present. In most states that reason is sufficient to have someone declared legally dead. Dr. Fuller, you don’t want that to be the angle of my story do you? Um? His death and demise. WHERE IS DOCTOR SAMUEL BECKETT?”

Sammy Jo’s mouth dropped opened as she looked up to the ceiling uttering a familiar family phase,  “OH BOY!”

PART ONE

Working at Quantum Leap has always been very rewarding both professionally and intellectually, but that is tempered with the need for almost total isolation. Life must be lived in that manner to ensure not only the secrecy of this government installation, but also the safety of the leaping Sam Beckett. He is my father and my mentor ever since my days at Cal Tech. In all of the problems he has faced in his previous leaps, this one was dropped on the very steps of Project Quantum Leap.

Regaining her composure Sammy Jo replied to the reporter, “I said that I wasn’t answering any more questions!”

Ignoring Sammy Jo, Miss Forrester continued with her monologue “The good Doctor Beckett supposedly lives here in Stallion’s Gate. But NO one has seen him in nine years. Not a soul! Really quite astonishing concerning this is the twenty-first century!”

Sammy Jo retorted, “Not really. He is quite busy, you know. Very dedicated to his work to the point that he doesn’t get out much! Why I haven’t seen him here in..”

“Almost a decade? Really, Doctor Fuller. His wife, Doctor Elesee will not see me. Admiral Calavicci, his supposed closest friend, does not return my calls. You are my only contact with someone close to his work,” she said curling her lip up a bit. She could sense the nervousness in the Doctor’s demeanor as Sammy Jo shifted from one foot to another.

Sammy Jo turned again to leave. “Well, that association is about to end. Good bye!” Sammy Jo tried to make a hasty retreat through the front door that seemed miles away now.

“Typical of the scientific mind, only thinking about life in black and white. I have dug up some interesting information from my research and am willing to go on a nationwide manhunt for the good doctor. We’ll make it more newsworthy that the Jon-Bonet Ramsey story. Where is the Next Einstein?” Susan Forrester said spelling out the headline in front of Sammy Jo. She paused waiting for Sammy Jo’s reply.

”No. I would not advise doing that,” explained Sammy Jo shaking her head from a distance.

“Granted my facts are mostly hearsay and rumor, however that never stopped a good reporter especially on my paper,” Susan said smiling a bit.

“The government..” Sammy Jo said starting to warn the ambitious reporter. The conversation was getting extremely uncomfortable for Sammy Jo since threatening people was not her style. She really wanted everyone to like her.

Susan Forrester broke into a big grin. “Will what? Shut me up? Eliminate me? That gigantic obsolete monstrosity hasn’t been able to keep the lid on any good conspiracy since Watergate! Besides, I can easily open up Pandora’s box. Maybe you have his body buried on that airbase of yours. Believe me, THE PEOPLE will want to know the truth especially after I tell them what they really want to know!” Miss Forrester said sneering just a bit. 

“Pandora’s box is right! Remember that box let all the evils into the world. The trouble unleashed would not only be yours, but would ruin countless lives, Miss Forrester. Now only for my own idle curiosity, what are you really looking for?” asked Sammy Jo trying to sound nonchalant through her increasing level of nervousness.

“Getting the right facts. Talking to the right people. What my final story says depends on how much cooperation I get.  Bottom line? I want to speak with Dr. Beckett. IN PERSON!” she demanded tapping her finger on the table emphasizing her point. “I’m staying at the Best Western over in Wolfsberg.”

“I’ll do what I can, but I make no promises,” said Sammy Jo as she walked hastily from the Crossroads Diner with an uncertain ultimatum in her pocket. The yellow wildflowers blew less peacefully in the wind as Sammy Jo’s car sped back to Project Quantum Leap.

In a white stucco desert hacienda built by Sam and Donna Beckett and resided in by Donna and their son Stephen an urgent meeting was called. Out on the patio that Donna had called upon a star after Sam had returned to his leaping ways displacing Al in 1945, stood Donna, Sammy Jo and Al Calavicci, project leader, observer and Sancho Panza to Sam Beckett’s Don Quixote.

“Sammy Jo, this better be good. I left two perfectly good prime ribs on my barbeque and a wife that was going to celebrate forty-three years and seven months of martial bliss together,” exclaimed Al as he clipped off the end of his Maduro Toro and lit up with a slow luxurious puff. “Smooth as silk. Ahh!”

“It’s Dad. There’s this grocery store rag rat that demands to talk to Doctor Sam Beckett,” said Sammy Jo as she paced back and forth. “She has been digging deep into Sam’s life and is a very determined woman.”

“Poppycock. Have our administrative officer give her the regular cover story and send her on her way. Then she can go dig up some dirt on some Hollywood starlet and leave the scientific community alone, Sammy Jo. Nothing but a bunch of thieves living off the glory of other people’s accomplishments!” gaffed Al Calavicci looking quite disgusted until another puff calmed his nerves.

“Some generic press release is not going to satisfy her, Admiral. Besides that’s the story we’ve been using since Dad first leaped nine years ago. Interviews, awards, papers. The whole physics community has pretty much written off Sam Beckett and there lies the problem. To the real world he has just disappeared. Dad has been gone for far too long,” explained Sammy Jo to her skeptical friend.

”We’re really just too close to the problem here, Al,” replied Donna. “Life has passed Sam by. He’s in his own little world far away from ours. Even though he seems to cross OUR paths every once in a while, he has been lost to the rest of the world at large for a very long time. Not everyone has forgotten him and some people are probably very curious as to his whereabouts.” Donna said this with a bit of pain in her heart since she really wanted him home, too.

“Wonderful! Then we just come up with an alternate strategy and generate our own PR department. Sounds kind of funny to do that at a secret government installation,” said Al shaking his head. Al had not liked the administration end of the Project, but he had to take it over once Sam had left for his journey through the cosmos.

“Only the project is secret, Al. Everyone around Stallion’s Gate knows about Mitchell Airbase, but not what exists in the nine floors beneath the desert. Even those working on the base only know a little part of the puzzle. If she stays around Stallion’s Gate too long she could put all of the little pieces of the puzzle together and then the whole project could be in danger,” said Sammy Jo looking a little more than worried and while beginning to shift back and forth from one foot to another.

“Nonsense. This installation is the most secure base in the country outside of another project, which EVEN I don’t know anything about because it is so secret!” said Al waving his cigar around throwing ash into the hair.

Donna looked a bit peeved at Al. “You don’t need all the technical information to build an atom bomb. IF she keeps asking questions then she will figure it out. Especially if she is as tenacious as Sammy Jo says.” Donna still remembered all the sliding around Sam had to do with his old M.I.T. buddies when he first started to work on Project Star Bright. He had always been a very open and sharing person and the cloak and dagger part of his work constantly bothered the newlyweds.

“She is. She has done her homework and knows the basics of Dad’s work, string theory and all. She needs to be headed off, appeased or somehow satisfied so that she will just go away!” snapped back Sammy Jo who had never felt as threatened before. Her little world of isolation had kept her safe for more years than she wished to remember.

Al rolled his eyes toward the sky, “And I guess I’m the guy that has to do it. Talking to that kind of scum really turns my stomach!” Another puff settled him back down.

“She knows you are important to the project. And she knows Sam never comes home,” explained Sammy Jo.

“Don’t I know that! But we had to run into this problem at sometime,” said Donna stumbling a bit with her words. “One man's life touches so many others. When he's not there it leave an awfully big hole. She seems convinced there is a major conspiracy to expose here.”

“This isn’t Kennedy and Oswald though there is almost as much at stake here. Sammy Jo give her a call and have her meet me at the Recruiting Station in town tomorrow afternoon at two. She is not setting foot on Mitchell Airbase. I want to keep her on a very short leash!” he said pounding the wall with his cigar for emphasis. Al’s task ahead was going to harder than answering questions to a roomful of uninformed Appropriation Committeemen.

“Al, I don’t think you really want to be involved with her. You’re people skills are..” warned Donna trying to look a bit sympathetic.

“Are quite up to our government regulations, my dear Donna. I will have her eating out of my hand,” he said looking quite satisfied with himself.

Seeing Donna’s worried look Sammy Jo asked, “Do you want any help, Admiral?”

“Ne’r to worry, my dear Doctor Fuller,” he said with a little bit too much confidence returning to his beloved cigar.

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

April 24, 2004

In a nondescript government office behind a gunmetal gray steel desk, which normally armed forces’ recruiters talked to teens about serving their country, Al Calavicci in his full naval dress uniform sat straight laced and looking like a formal portrait of himself. Miss Susan Forrester walked in carrying a large satchel and a big smile thrusting her hand wildly at Admiral Al.

“Admiral, this is a pleasure to meet you at last! Susan Forrester, National Inquisitionor!” she said very jollily putting down the bag next to her.

“Nice to meet you,” said Al very stiffly. “Please be seated, Miss Forrester. I understand you have some questions related to Dr. Beckett.” Al tried to be as unemotional as possible not giving her a hint of the gravity of the problem that she was causing the project and Sam.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I have. At the top of my list is the whereabouts of Doctor Samuel Beckett,” she asked staring him straight in the eyes. She knew that she had him just where she wanted him.

 “Dr. Beckett is currently working on a project that requires his undivided attention and is not available for interviews, Miss Forrester. His work is highly classified and critical to our nation’s security,” said Al dryly.

“Even as to his whereabouts?” she asked mimicking Al in the same staccato military tone.

“That is correct!” replied Al nodding his head ever so slightly. His hand shook momentarily since he had no cigar for use as an adult pacifier.

Susan furled her brow determined to get answers. “Come now, Admiral. Even the employees on the Manhattan Project answered their mail!” She reached into her bag pulling out a well-worn black marbled composition notebook. Opening it up she began to read. “Beginning in 1991 Dr. Samuel Beckett moved to 245 West 34^th Street in Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico according to Mabel Patterson at the Crossroads Diner. He used to stop in there three or four times a week for their Dutch apple pie. Sometime in early 1995 he ceased his visits. I received the same story from Dr. Beckett’s barber, Si Roberts, and the delicatessen person in the Piggly Wiggly, Agnes Morehouse. Similar reports come from his banker, insurance agent, car mechanic and neighbors. No one from the Mayor, the town council or the post office has seen him either during that same time period. The good Doctor has vanished from the environs of Stallion’s Gate. He has not contacted his former colleagues at M.I.T or Cornell. He hasn’t published a paper, made a speech, visited a symposium or even contacted his friends or possibly even his family since that time. The Beckett family refused to speak to me on the subject of their illustrious relative.”

“The good Doctor has been very busy. He spends all his time at his work, Miss Forrester. His dedication is well known as is his one-sided determination,” said Al very quietly. All of Al’s nerves traveled to his shaking hand that he successfully hid under the metal desk.

“At General Billy Mitchell Airbase?” she asked writing something down.

“That I can neither confirm nor deny!”  Al shot back shaking his head though he truly hated the governmental double-talk that was necessary to protect the nation interests.

“Okay. Thank you. THAT was informative! Then I assume he lives or resides on the airbase,” she said looking slightly bored though not looking up from her notebook.

“Assume what you wish, Miss Forrester. That is all I am allowed to say,” replied Al still trying to sound as dry as the back of his throat felt.

“Doctor Beckett has never even been sighted at his own house where his wife and son live! Doesn’t he ever visit his family?” she asked pointedly staring into Al’s eyes looking for some sign of a kink in his bureaucratic armor.

Al shifted in his chair. “I can not discuss his personal life with you Miss Forrester,” replied Al just slightly at a higher pitch.

“And supposedly you are listed as one of his closest friends. Humph! Under the New Mexico Uniform Family Code dated 1987 any person missing for seven years can be declared legally dead. Doctor Beckett has not been seen since 1995 nine years ago, Admiral,” she said again reading her notes.

“Doctor Beckett is not dead. My dear Miss Forrester, I should not say anything, but I spoke to Doctor Beckett just last week,” he said trying to sound slightly confidential. That was the truth since Sam had completed his previous leap only six days before and had been crossing the cosmos since then.

“Then he is here in the state of New Mexico?” Miss Forrester asked leaning toward him pen and paper in hand mimicking the Admiral’s whispering tone and stance.

”I cannot go into any further detail, Miss Forrester. I merely wish to give you my personal assurance that Doctor Beckett is alive and in good health. Any further information concerning his whereabouts is classified,” Al said shaking his head. Clasping his hands together Al desperately tried to stop the shaking of his right hand.

“A classified location? Where then? Area 51? Humph! Admiral, he has not been seen anywhere and those who are closest to him will not speak of him. I feel I am getting the biggest stonewall job since the Nixon administration. You assure me that he is well, but refuse to present him or any evidence that he is alive,” Miss Forrester said sounding more accusatory than ever.

“I have given you all the information I am allowed to provide, Miss Forrester. Doctor Beckett is very busy in his work, is quite alive and well, but is unavailable. Those are the facts, Miss Forrester and I can not change them!” replied Al still quite stoically leaning back in his chair trying to look like he had no more to say on the subject of Sam Beckett.

“Even those scientists doing the most top secret work for the government at least show up occasionally at a minimum to deny what the are doing. People just don’t vanish from the face of the earth without a reason. And you have given me no reason to explain his whereabouts. I do not appreciate the evasiveness of your attitude, Admiral Calavicci. You give me no alternative. The angle for my story concerning the absent doctor then is the death of Doctor Sam Beckett. No person, no body, no evidence, nothing from you or the anyone else in government!” she said standing up abruptly closing her well-worn notebook. She looked down at the Admiral with a sickeningly superior attitude.

“You are making a big mistake, Miss Forrester. I will deny those facts and every word of your article,” the Admiral said raising his voice ever so slightly.

“Fine, then deny it in front of the press and the rest of the world. This story will not die. I’m sure AP, CNN, Fox News, The New York Times and The Washington Post will also have an interest in it and you’ll have hundreds of reporters crawling all over Stallion’s Gate looking for bits and pieces of the story you are so obviously hiding from me here. What do you have buried on that Mitchell Airbase, Admiral?” she asked with a slightly confident smile. She had not expected anything substantial from Admiral Albert Calavicci and her plan was going perfectly just as she had foreseen it.

“Miss Forrester, I would strongly argue against that. Since…” said the Admiral trying to keep his demeanor leaning forward a bit and tapping on the desk.

“And I am sure that Congress and the House Committee on Appropriations would be very interested in it. I know two well-placed Congressmen that are itching to cut massive pork belly boondoggles. Your funding could disappear as easily as the phantom Doctor Beckett. Something is going on here and as an American citizen I can’t let you people run some wacko installation as a memorial flaunting the name of a dead or missing college nutcase! Now take me to Doctor Beckett or I go straight to the wire services, AD-mir-AL!” she said looking down as the eyes of the two adversaries locked in hatred.

“Miss Forrester, the United States Government will not be threatened by friend or foe. The interview is terminated!” said Al not completely losing using his most official sounding Naval officer voice.

Looking very pleased with herself Susan brushed her hair back and stood up to leave. “Fine. I will leave though I thought that you would have plenty of TIME to talk to me. Isn’t that what Dr. Beckett was so fascinated with?  And by the way I have something of yours,” she said with a very slight smirk. Reaching into her satchel she tossed two color photographs onto the desk of an old dull multicolored gizmo slightly larger than a hand. One picture showed the outside and the other picture showed the inside of a weather-beaten ancient electronic device.

Al’s eyes opened wide as he reached for the photograph of an object that he knew so well. His handlink with Ziggy. This one looked very used and worn-out. The plastic display was dusty and dull with age. The second photograph showed the top with the back open exposing all the wires and electrical components. 

“Where did you get this?” said Al almost losing his official demeanor. He rubbed his eyes, as they seemed to not want to focus on the grainy color photograph.

“Not exactly something available from Radio Shack. In fact I obtained it from a man whose grandmother had kept it as a little souvenir of rendezvous at lovers’ leap way back in 1945,” Susan said smiling. She cocked her head to one side eagerly watching Al Calavicci squirm.

Al’s eyes got wider almost showing his fear as he recognized the circumstances related to the missing handlink. And who had left it there.

Miss Forrester continued looking quite satisfied. “The owner said something to her about it being a product that the Army was testing. Funny he never went back to pick it up. Though it’s over half a century old it contains electronic circuit components that were not manufactured until the mid-eighties and nineties, as were the fiber optic components and the integrated circuits. And there was no such thing as rechargeable Nicad batteries in 1945. Quite astounding. Something of a paradox all nicely wrapped up with a String Theory for Christmas. The note on the side of the device reads “U.S. Government Material. If found, return to Mitchell Air Base, Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico.” This base did not even exist until the nineteen-fifties. Quite a mystery in history wouldn’t you say, Admiral Calavicci?”

“That’s all hearsay and speculation,” said Al not really believing his own comment.

“The Jarret family has records of having this little gizmo in their possession going back to World War II. Would you care to see the certified copies of Mrs. Jarret’s diary? I had to practically steal this thing back from the electronic engineer who looked at it for me. He said it could completely re-write the history of American technology. Wonder who left that gizmo way back there? Care for me to write that story, Admiral? Level with me, Admiral. Where did Sam Beckett disappear to?” she asked still not losing the smirk on her curled up lips.

 “I still stand by my story,” said Al as he said confidentially and sighed. “However in the interest in cooperation with the fourth estate, we will get back to you concerning your request, Miss Forrester.”

“You look a bit warm, Admiral. But I think it actually is cooler than that in here. I’m at the Best Western as I told Doctor Fuller. The bottom line is I want to speak with Dr. Beckett AND discuss his work. I want the WHOLE story. Goodbye, Admiral,” she said looking like she had had a major victory.

“Yes, Good-bye Miss Forrester,” he replied. Al quickly took out a cigar, lit it nervously and mumbled his own R-rated version of “Oh Boy!”

****************

In a dingy corner of the Road Runner bar at the Best Western Inn sat the eighteenth out of nineteenth “star” reporters for the National Inquisitionor.  Passed over for plum assignments and hopelessly stuck in a rut she sipped her gin. Never drinking enough to lose herself to some drunken male in the bar. Just enough to forget. Life had not dealt her a bad hand of cards; she had just never learned to play them right. A product of a bad marriage, Susan had grown up in Seattle with dreams of writing the old fashioned great American novel. Instead she tried her hand at reporting and bounced around between small town papers across the country looking for some rag known nationally landing finally at the National Inquisitionor. Even though the stories were the pits at least the public was reading her from coast to coast.

For the last nine years Miss Forrester had followed around politicians, actors and the quasi-famous looking for the downside of their lives. Then at a chance meeting in Prairie City, Iowa she found the little broken handlink that a family slightly related to a boozing Hollywood director had had as a joke piece for more than half a century. The return address note had led her to Stallion’s Gate and a mystery that was so plain in sight that no one even saw it. Her sixth sense told her that something big was going on around here and she was determined to expose it. And maybe, just maybe she would be able to move on to something better. This story could be her big chance and Doctor Beckett was her ticket she hoped beyond hope as she ordered another drink.

PART TWO 

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

April 25, 2004

“That woman is a scourge and a menace! She lives just to satisfy the sick cravings of people who have nothing else to do than be happy that their lot is better than the poor fortunes of others,” screamed Al as he paced up and down in his office while meeting with Sammy Jo, Donna, Beth, Verbena, and Edward St. Johns. Turning red in the face vending all the pent up frustration he held back in his interview with Susan Forrester let loose a volcano that had raged inside of him. “I just can’t get over what she has the nerve to do. Think about all that we have accomplish over the last nine years and…”

“ALBERT! Settle down this minute. DO you want ANOTHER heart attack?” exclaimed Beth as she used her own Naval command voice to settle down her irate husband.

Verbena stepped in. “Admiral, this is a situation that needs to be dealt with calmly and rationally and I think that your wife is quite right. You must settle down your current disposition.”

“But, but.. Yea, I guess you ..you …are right,” stuttered Al. “I’ve just never really trusted those damn newspapermen and she seems to be the worse of the lot. Ever since old Gunny Masterson …um,” said Al who fell down into his chair with his head in his hands. Beth came over and put her hands around him holding her distraught husband tightly.

Sammy Jo asked looking concerned, “Who are you talking about, Al?”

“One of his comrades in the P.O.W. Camp in Hanoi. A trusted friend. Gunnery Sergeant Robert F. “Gunny” Masterson. After Al was released from fifteen months of solitary confinement at the Hanoi Hilton he helped bring Al back to life. Al was pretty despondent at that time. They remained very close friends for the rest of their confinement. After their repatriation in ‘73 another prisoner accused Gunny of betraying his fellow P.O.W.’s. The newspapers had a field day with the accusations. After five years of confinement Gunny could not take the shame and he committed suicide leaving a wife and six children. The worst part was that accusations were later proven false. Al has not trusted the members of the press since then. He gets extremely nervous around them. It’s all right, sweetheart,” she said as Beth rubbed his back. She had nursed him through many sleepless nights in the last thirty years since he came back from Viet Nam.

“Betrayal can be a heavy burden to bear,” remarked Verbena. “And friendships made under those circumstances can be deeper than those with your own family.”

“I’m sorry Al. We can try and take care of this if you can’t..” Donna started to say to soothe Al.

Al looked up quickly. “No! I can face this. There has to be another way. Even under the worst scenarios I think we could keep the project going. Congress I can take care of, but trying to answer too many questions that is the biggest nightmare. She wants to TALK to Sam Beckett. Any suggestions?” Al asked standing up and holding tightly onto Beth’s hand. He had lived with his pain the past and it would not stop him now. Sam needed his full attention.

“How about a telephone hookup between the Imaging Chamber and her hotel room? Sam could field a few questions and that would hopefully satisfy her,” suggested Sammy Jo screwing up her face while trying to figure out the mechanics of the suggestion. Sometimes her enthusiasm outran her practicality.

“Um, Howard Hughes needed a whole panel of his friends to verify it that was him thirty years ago. I want this kept very low key. Besides I don’t think that that would completely satisfy her,” said Al who had calmed down considerably.

“And submitting the questions in writing would still look like we were hiding something,” suggested the dignified Dr. Beeks.

“I agree, Bena. She wants to meet with him in person,” said Donna Beckett.

“Al, we can’t give her everything she wants. Let her compromise a bit. We do have Sam’s image stored in Ziggy. Her capabilities are far beyond what the public normally sees out there in the entertainment world,” suggested Sammy Jo slowly and carefully this time.

“Go on,” said Al paying close attention.

“We could run those stored images through a filter and convert it to a digital signal and then set up a video conference in town or just in our reception area on the ground level,” explained Sammy Jo busily talking with her hands the same way Sam does when he is discussing anything that gets him extremely excited.

“No, I don’t want her even near our reception area. Use the office of the base commander. I don’t even want to hint at where we are located. She is not going to set foot inside the project headquarters,” said Al defiantly. He was going to give Susan Forrester anymore leash than she already had.

“The only problem with that scenario is that Sam has to be in the middle of a leap. And this little interview can’t be interfering with his task at hand,” said Donna with a tone of concern in her voice. Unfortunately she did not have a better idea.

“And she has to be completely satisfied with a response to his whereabouts and his work. All Sam can say is ‘I’m here alive and well.’ That could just open a new can of worms for us,” said Verbena. “Afterwards Sam will just disappear again.”

“If that’s not enough problems. I’d like to make her disappear,” scoffed Al to Beth quietly.

“We can’t do that. We don’t work for the mafia,” replied Sammy Jo Fuller looking strangely at Al. There was a dark side of him that sometimes showed when the situation got desperate.

“Well, I would probably make a good mobster. Mob boss, Godfather whatever,” said Al quietly to himself. “She would have to be satisfied enough to return the ancient handlink to us. Damn it! I swore that it was lost forever. And even convincing Miss Nosey that still doesn’t solve our long term needs if this happens again. Sammy Jo, work on the connections thing. Donna and Beth put together a summary for Sam so I can bring up his Swiss cheese memory as quick as possible. Then we need to come up with a future cover story for the press.  OK? Dismissed,” he said a little shortly as he stood up letting go of his wife’s hand.

After they left Al sat down at his desk and thought of those days back in that deep dark hellhole and a friend that had left this life much too soon.

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

April 26, 2004

Dressed in dark blue overalls marked “Juarez Cleaning” Susan Forrester kept her head down as she showed the security badge for Maria Sanchez and entered the gate of Mitchell Airbase named for Army Air Corps General Billy Mitchell. Senorita Sanchez was happy to help the reporter out as she had straightened out the immigration problem Maria Sanchez was having getting her sister into this country.

Keeping a low profile she entered the warehouse that held the reception desk and elevators that took people deep into the underground Project Quantum Leap Complex. Susan Forrester felt strange descending down into the unknown. Starting on level five she cleaned the hallways concentrating on the locator maps and personnel charts on the walls while remaining virtually invisible as a member of the day maintenance crew.

On level six she found the office of Dr. Sam Beckett with the title of Quantum Leap Project Director on the door. This sign was confusing since Al Calavicci seemed to also hold that position on the personnel charts. In addition, thought Susan Forrester, what does ‘jumping’ or ‘leaping’ have to do with advanced particle physics and his string theory? His office was open, but inside was another mystery. Though it was full of papers, plaques and memorabilia everything was neatly stacked and organized contradicting the picture had been drawn of him by his friends. The office looked more like a museum or good housekeeping display rather than the nerve center of some quantum energy scientific complex.

After visiting a few labs, Susan Forrester headed for something marked ‘Central Computer Room’ on level seven.

Security was so tight at the entrance that it seemed almost nonexistent as she approached the Central Computer Room. The guard barely waved her on as she walked through the sliding glass door. Inside was a set from some science fiction movie. An eerie blue light rotated around the ceiling like an alien disco ball. Brightly colored lights flicked on and off as she saw Dr. Donna Elesee and Dr. Sammy Jo Fuller and others working around a large colorful computer console.

“Bingo!” she thought as she had found her mother lode of information. “Now to keep quiet and watch,” she thought as she picked up a large broom and pretended to sweep the dark gray titled floor.

“Dr. Beckett has completed his proposed task, Dr. Elesee although I am a loss as to why I do not detect any increases in temporal flux,” explained a very human sounding voice though something did not sound quite right about it.

Another voice came over the loud speaker. “Sam is getting a tad testy here. Any projections on how he should complete his leap, Ziggy?” Susan heard the Admiral’s voice say.

“All parameters remain nominal. Ziggy, do you have any projections on how Dr. Beckett can complete his scenario?” asked Doctor Elesee.

“Not at this present time,” replied the voice called Ziggy. “Though something significant is pulling at my sensor array and I just can not put my theoretical finger on it.”

“Something you can’t solve?” asked Sammy Jo Fuller with a hint of whimsy as she continued to monitor her station.

“No Doctor Fuller. I merely require additional processing time. It will come to me shortly,” Ziggy replied with just a hint of human annoyance.

Whatever it was talking definitely sounded human to the reporter. Miss Forrester had stopped to stare at the strange machine and ponder the weird situation that looked nothing like anything she learned in junior high science class.

Sammy Jo Fuller chuckled a bit and then turned around looking directly at Susan. She dropped the pad she had been working on. Everyone immediately looked directly at her.

“Jeez!! Forrester? What the hell are you doing in here? Ziggy alert security and seal the computer room door!  We have an unwanted guest!” Sammy Jo shouted as everyone turned toward the spot that Sammy Jo was looking at.

Donna turned not recognizing the tabloid reporter as she headed for the locked door. “Al, you best come into the Control Room. We have serious situation here!”

Windsor, Minnesota.

July 23, 1966

On a cloudless night under a full moon so bright you could read by it, Sam sat on the remains of a tree that had succumbed to a windstorm a decade before. Looking up toward the bright constellation Sagittarius he was getting quite impatient as if waiting in a bus station for a ride that was never going to come. How was he going to leave the body of Jeffery Bowden and make his way to the next stop on his never-ending tour of the space-time continuum?

Bobbing his head in boredom and clasping his hands together he quickly raised them as a he squinted into a bright rectangular of light that overpowered the stars, the moon and Sam’s vision. In walked or rather out walked Al and a friend since Sam was the one in the great outdoors. The friend was a rather confused looking brunette dressed in a maintenance uniform.

“How did we get here?” the woman asked quietly looking around at the stars above and then jumped as the Imaging Chamber door snapped shut.

“Miss Forrester, as I TRIED to explain this is all a holographic projection and we’re still in the Quantum Leap complex. I don’t have time to be Mr. Wizard here. You wanted to see him. There!” said Al holding tightly onto her and pointing to Sam. If Al let go of her, she would not be able to see Sam and vice versa.

“Al, what’s going on?” asked Sam looking confused and walking toward the two of them.

“We’re getting to that, kid,” replied Al as he took a puff with his free hand.

The woman looked up at Sam, reached out and tried to touch him. Her hand passed through the image of Sam Beckett.

“That is not Doctor Beckett. I have studied him very closely and he is not a twenty-year-old blond farmhand. And this guy isn’t even real. He’s a projection. A trick. Everything you told me is a lie!” she said backing off a bit.

“Miss Forrester. Like the rest of the scene here,” Al said putting his hand through a tree, “everything is a projection. We are looking at where Dr. Beckett is. And like the projection, he sees a projection in front of him. He is a hologram to us and we are presented as a hologram to him. He has been on this journey through time for the last nine years. That’s why he hasn’t been here in New Mexico. That’s the big bad secret we couldn’t tell you, Lois Lane. I thought we explained it to you,” said Al looking a bit disgusted.

“Sounded a little too unbelievable. Dr. Beckett? Is that you?” Susan Forrester asked squinting looking up at the human-looking holographic image.

“Yes. And who are you?“ asked Sam returning to sit on his fallen log bench.

“Susan Forrester of the National Inquisitioner!’ she said putting her hand out cautiously.

Al got a sick look on his face and then spat out, “Just wave to him, Dorothy. We’re still in Kansas here!”

Sam pulled his hand back and briefly waved to her. “Hi. You’re from what?”

“Come now. You see our paper on every supermarket news rack in the country. We even make the wire services several times a year with some breaking scandal or..Umph.. lawsuit,” she said clearing her throat. She had never been overly proud of her employer. It had all been just a job for her.

“Miss Forrester. The good doctor, due an infirmity brought on from his travels in time, is not a good candidate for answering questions about his past. You’ll get better answers out of chimpanzee,” explained Al waving his cigar around wildly.

“Then this guy is a trick,” she spat back. “Something computer generated just to throw me off!”

“Wait! I’m being interviewed? This doesn’t sound quite right, but you are here. And you need some confirmation? All right. I remember quite a bit about growing in Indiana with my parents John and Thelma Beckett. My sister is Katie and my brother is Tom. I had a dog named... Oh I forget. I played at Carnegie Hall at 18 and went to school at M.I.T and first leaped in..  Um! UM! UMMMMMMMM!” said Sam knocking on his head trying come up with answers that he could no longer remember.

“Not bad kid, but as you can see he has a very selective memory loss. He is not some kind of computer-generated hallucination. Now if you have any questions, he can tell you what he can. Go ahead, Brenda Starr!” said Al. “This is your big break!”

Miss Forrester with a great deal of skepticism cleared her throat. “Dr. Beckett. Where have you been?”

“Well,” Sam said looking down at his feet. “I’m been traveling in time between 1953 and the present. Your time. Right now it is July 23, 1966. The place is Windsor, Minnesota. I came to help out a little girl that was being abused. Originally we got Quantum Leap up and running on...”

”Uh, only partially,” Al reminded him.

“Right, partially. I took it upon myself to test the system. Ever since then I’ve been bouncing around time like a ping-pong ball righting wrongs and fixing things,” explained Sam using his hands demonstrating a phantom ping-pong game.

“Upon whose authority? The President?” Susan asked now quite intrigued.

“Nope. Higher than that. Maybe the creator of everything. We’re really not sure. Anyway when I leap into someone we identify something that went wrong and I try and fix it,” explained Sam smiling a bit.

Susan Forrester looked around to Al as he played with a calculator devise like the one that she had found in Iowa.

“And Ziggy says that your talk here with Barbara Walters should finish your leap,” remarked Al. “And solves more than one little problem.”

Sam continued, “So I jump into this real person. No one else knows who I am and I try to fix things, till the next time. There doesn’t seem to be an end to it. And while I’m here history has a way of changing,” explained Sam. “Sometimes small things and sometimes not so small.”

“Um. Which brings us back to our Miss Susan Forrester. Remember Valerie Barnes? You saved her life back in 1957 in Portland, Oregon about two years ago our time,” said Al looking at the multi-colored handlink.

“No,” said Sam shaking his head.

“Well, according to Ziggy she went on to get married and had a daughter. And she stands before you. One of the minor consequences of you fooling around with the history books. And now she turned into a nosy Nelly trying to figure out where the good Doctor Beckett had disappeared. The circle of life, I guess,” said Al still getting readings from his magical handlink.

“You saved my mother?” Susan asked in disbelief turning quickly to Sam.

“Not only saved her, but in a timeline before that, Miss Forrester, you did not even exist according to our computer. She has the unique property of knowing what happened before and after time changes. A very brilliant piece of work by Doctor Beckett. Though don’t let Ziggy know that I said that,” said Al depositing some ash onto the Imaging Chamber floor.

“How did you do it?” asked Susan as she and Sam both wanted to hear the same story.

Sam absent-mindedly scratched his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember.”

“Back to the man with all the answers. To make a long story short, Valerie Barnes was in the wrong place at the wrong time. While hiking in the Sierras in the winter of 1957 her entire entourage was killed in a freak avalanche. Sam made sure that they were miles from there when an earthquake occurred. No great deed, just saving seven lives. Really just another’s days work here a Project Fix’m in Time,” Al said quite smugly.

Susan scratched her head with her free hand. “I remember my Mother talking about that California vacation and earthquake, but it was...”

“…Doctor Beckett’s cosmic intervention that saved your mother’s ass. And a cute little one it was,” Al quipped who had fond memories of that leap.

“Uh, thank you?” she asked a bit hesitantly to Sam Beckett’s holographic image.

“You’re welcome,” replied Sam with equal lack of conviction due to his Swiss cheese memory. “We’re doing that all the time. Fixing the universe one good deed at a time. Whatever “HE” thinks needs to be done. We have done a lot of good over the years, Miss Forrester,” said Sam with a big Beckett grin.

Susan lost all of her posturing disposition and more resembled a little girl. “And I’m the product of that good? Freaky. I never believed in fate or predestination. My fate was at least started by Doctor Sam Beckett.. That is so creepy. Everything I do is a result of one of his actions before I was born.”

“There’s many out there just like you,” said Al. “Even Ziggy can’t estimate all the changes that Sam has caused over the last nine-plus years.”

“Damn! That’s a good story, but it’d be like destroying the life of my own Godfather,” Susan said thinking out loud. She let go of Al for just a moment as she contemplated the change her entire existence had taken.

“Been one of those, too!” said Sam who responded “Nothing!” to her look of confusion.

“Seems like if I was the product of someone doing good I should really keep spreading it on. You seem to do the same thing. There’s a lot in my life that I’m not too proud of,” Susan Forrester said choking back a few tears.

Al took one look at her confession, sighed and then conceded, “ We could try and give you a story that will explain Sam’s disappearance. A story that could still give you a good scoop. Something even Perry White would be proud of.”

“And I could actually do some good? After all the pain I have caused people over the years. All right. I will help you out. You already helped out my family,” she replied smiling. “Just tell what you fellows need!”

“That’s great!” said Sam as Al’s handlink lit up like a miniature Christmas tree.

“What’s that? Ziggy feels that little change helped you out Sam. You should be leaping momentarily.  Your work is done. So long old friend,” said Al puffing on his cigar.

“But Al, what about..” said Sam as he vanished from view and the entire Imaging Chamber went black.

“Admiral, what happened?” asked the reporter looking more confused than ever now.

“Sam leaped. And Ziggy shut down the Imaging Chamber. You know how much power it takes to run this thing? Think of us as Peoria on steroids. Your offer to help allowed Sam to finish his business on this leap. Now he is flying through time until the big guy figures out where his next mission is. That’s all there is to it. Now Miss Forrester step into my office and we’ll see what we can do for you. Please,” he said showing her though the rectangular door of the Imaging Chamber.

Project Quantum Leap

Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico

May 29, 2004

“And so Doctor Samuel Beckett continues to work his quantum theories deep in a neutrino capturing cavern somewhere in the desert of the southwestern United States doing as he always has done obsessed with his work refining his gravity wave theory that may someday propel mankind to the stars,” read Al as he leaned back in his chair tossing a few ashes into an old handlink he had lost decades before. “If I hadn’t known better it would have sounded like the old Sam himself talking. Well done, Dr. Beckett,” said Al nodding politely at Donna.

“You get to know someone pretty well after eighteen years of marriage. Right now Sam would have trouble dissertating on the seven basic concepts of inter-dimensional physics, let alone give

Susan Forrester a proper interview. Besides, Sam was working on Einstein’s Unified Field Theory and its affects on gravity as a corollary to his time-space work. It’s a daunting task, but I think with Ziggy’s help we can continue working on it. She has been complaining about her unused calculating capabilities lately,” explained Donna.

“The only computer in the world that wants to fill up its spare time with more work. Well, it’s all in the name of Doctor Beckett. Sam what we have to do for you. Guess I won’t be on any of those interstellar starships though it is beautiful out there,” sighed Al looking at a picture on the wall he had taken on his only voyage into space.

“Al that kind of technology is still several decades off. Long after we’re finished with Project Quantum Leap. Besides, after Sam returns we will need something for Sam to have been working on. Helps me keep my mind off him not being here,” said Donna sighing herself.

“I know, Donna. Just remember Susan did just fine. That little scoop of her’s about Sam landed her a job at The Los Angeles Times. Our little project here kind of created her making her our responsibility. I don’t feel nearly the same way anymore about the American fourth estate. I guess they can be changed from their predatorily ways and Gunny can rest in peace a bit more in my heart. Besides this time WE HERE at project headquarters solved someone’s problem making someone’s life better. Feels good doesn’t it?” asked Al looking quite please with himself.

“Yes, it does, Al. We can help out others but not ourselves,” Donna said as she picked up an old picture of Sam and Al and gently touched his image.

“Yea, well hopefully someday, Sam will have his ticket punched enough and earn his credits to come home. I miss him, too,” mused Al quietly. “And Sam’s cover is safe at least for a while. You have something else to tell folks when they come looking for the absent Doctor Beckett,” sighed Al. “I guess the big guy didn’t want us distracted as Sam is doing his good deeds.”

“That may satisfy them, Al. As for my son and I..” Donna started to say.

“Admiral Calavicci!” exclaimed Ziggy over his colorful wrist handlink.

Al’s contemplative mode quickly disappeared. “ Yes, Ziggy?” asked Al turning to his monitor.

“Doctor Beckett has leaped into his next assignment. Edward and I are initiating location protocols,” replied Ziggy.

“On my way. Well, it begins again,” sighed Al as he jumped to his feet and headed out the door.

“But will it never end?” asked Donna. “God Speed my love.” She put down the picture, straightened her lab coat and walked out loving him even more knowing what she had to do. Wait. Wait and hope that someday that her beloved would return to her.

EPILOGUE

When the proverbial cobalt mist was gone Sam Beckett realized that he was in the dark. There was a second of vertigo as he felt his position, which was sitting upright on something soft.  He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them wide, and in another moment figured out he was in a dark room.

His eyes adjusted to the dimness, and he felt a cool breeze on his face. A slapping sound drew his eyes to the drapes flapping over an open window. The curtains glowed in what Sam realized was moonlight, and as his eyes continued to grow accustomed to the night, he could see the vague outlines of bedroom furniture. When he put two and two together, he was pleased to find he was alone in a comfy bed. A thick comforter was askew on his lap, as if it had been thrown off the slumbering occupant. As he looked around the room, Sam felt his skin tingle not just from the cold, but also from the residue of his host's mind.  Unclear flashes of fire and panic echoed in his mind, coupled with a lingering feeling of fear. Sam had interrupted a nightmare.

Calming his mind, Sam lay back on the inviting pillow and sank gratefully into its luxurious softness. The sound of the wind and a distant owl made him smile as he closed his eyes. It was so peacefully quiet, he felt himself drifting off into slumber in no time at all.

In that instant of surrendering completely to sleep, Sam began to hear someone calling. He couldn't tell if he was dreaming or awake. The intensity of the voice grew, calling out a name that didn't sound familiar. Finally, the voice was almost screaming and Sam found himself awake in an instant, sitting up again in the same bed and room. The snapping of the drapes again caught his attention, but when he looked to the window this time, there was a diaphanous figure of a man standing in the moonlight, regarding him.  Sam could see the trees outside right through him.

Sam rubbed his eyes, but the figure remained. "Oh, boy!" he whispered out loud in an effort to see if he was, indeed, awake.