Theorizing that one could time-travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett led an elite group of scientists into the desert to develop a top-secret project known as Quantum Leap.  Pressured to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Beckett prematurely stepped into the Project Accelerator…and vanished.

He awoke to find himself in the past, suffering from partial amnesia and facing a mirror image that was not his own.  Fortunately, contact with his own time was maintained through brainwave transmissions with Al, the Project Observer, who appeared in the form of a hologram that only Dr. Beckett can see and hear.

As evil ones do their best to stop Dr. Beckett’s journey, his children, Dr. Samantha Josephine Fulton and Stephen Beckett, continuously strive to retrieve their time-lost father and bring him home permanently.  Despite returning home several times over the last decade, Dr. Beckett has remained lost in the time stream…his final fate no longer certain.

Trapped in the past and driven by an unknown force, Dr. Beckett struggles to accept his destiny as he continues to find himself leaping from life to life, putting things right that once went wrong with the hopes that his next leap…will be the final leap home.

PROLOGUE

Wandering through the cosmos Sam Beckett felt life quickly ebbing back into his body as he materialized in a new place and new time. Warmth returned around him as he found himself sitting at a student-size desk covered with the plastic parts of a 1968 Chevelle model holding the carburetor in one hand and tube of model glue in the other. The smell so permeated Sam’s senses and watered his eyes that he dropped both items and knocked down the chair as he ran to open the window. A cold humid breeze hit Sam and helped clear up his head. He was on the second story of a typical ‘fifties’ or ‘sixties’ home in suburban anywhere USA . Back inside Sam closed the window and looked around the room of a teenager interested in the American Basketball Association, some local high school whose nickname was the Fighting Falcons, wrestling and Three Dog Night. In the far corner was a dated electric keyboard. Sam walked over, turned it on and played a familiar Billy Joel tune that no one in this time period would have recognized. Over the bed was a pennant from a defunct amusement park on the New Jersey Palisades next to a University of Wyoming pennant.

Blue sparkles appeared near the closet as Al Calavicci appeared in front of him wearing a dark mauve tuxedo with a light blue shirt and shining electric blue tie clashing with the Peter Max poster on the wall behind him. After two puffs on his cigar, Al waved to Sam. “And a fond good afternoon to you, Sam.”

“Al. Good night,” replied Sam pointing to the darkness outside the window.

“That is quite correct, Sam my boy!” Al said twice looking at his handlink and then gently playing with its buttons. “Mister Jonathan Jefferson Peterson, a twelve year old, Teaneck New Jersey teenager. The date is June 12, 1970 and tomorrow nothing in particular happens to this fine example of male prepubescentness. It’s his family that’s the problem. You see, his family drowns.”

“What happens to them?” asked Sam plopping down on the lumpy unmade bed.

Al began to gesture with his cigar. “Things go real bad for them on their way into New York to see the Knicks play. While stuck in a traffic jam on the George Washington Bridge , the bridge is hit by an Eastern European oil tanker. The whole road deck tumbles down into the Hudson River . You see, you have to convince the ship’s captain not to pay attention to his navigator.”

“Why aren’t I on the ship then?” asked Sam. “I’m only a young boy this leap.”

Al shook his head. “No clue. It seems the navigator had one wingding of a celebration coming into port. And you’ll have to get on board ship and convince him to dock at pier 46 in Elizabeth, and the captain only speaks Polish,” explained Al.

“Do I speak Polish?” asked Sam scratching his head.

“No, but the real problem is that the navigator only speaks Hungarian and their interpreter won the chugging contest at the same party that the navigator got tight at, and he will be sleeping it off in his cabin,” replied Al reading off his handlink.

“So I should keep my family home then!” said Sam thinking things couldn’t be easier.

Al shook his head hard, “No. No. No, Einstein. YOU have to save the bridge because those in charge at the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey will probably not listen to you. You have to get on the ship by swimming down the Hudson and out into the New York harbor. The tanker will pick you up. Hopefully...” Admiral Al said not looking too sure of himself. “After that, this leap gets really tough.”

On the other side of his host’s room the big bright rectangle appeared and in came Al Calavicci in a white Navy uniform running in huffing and puffing.

Al glanced up quickly at Sam and then looked at his handlink. “Hi, Sam. Ziggy wouldn’t let me in. I had to use the manual override and... Whoa!” he exclaimed looking at another Al Calavicci.  “Holy cow! Sam, don’t listen to whatever THAT is!”

Sam looked at the first Al and then back to the second one as the Imaging Chamber door snapped shut behind him.

The first Al took out his cigar throwing ash toward Sam. “Sam, that other gentleman there is NOT your observer. Ziggy gives you a 100 percent probability to completely ignore that man.”

“Al? AL ?” asked Sam looking nervously at the two apparitions in front of him.

He took two steps back and swallowed hard as his mouth went dry and he barely spoke in a whisper.  “Oh Boy!”

PART ONE

Facing two observers, Sam began looking back and forth at each of them as if he was at Wimbledon . Each Al looked on the other one with confusion and bit of Calavicci contempt.

The first Al threw down his cigar and stared at the new apparition and yelled, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

The second Al used his handlink to scan the person in front of him. “Sam that imposter is only a hologram even to me. Nothing solid. Just a figment in this Imaging Chamber. So he wouldn’t appear any different to you. No idea where the image came from. Ziggy? What’s going on?” he asked punching buttons furiously while yelling into the handlink.

The first Al busily punched away on his own handlink. “Come on you wonderful piece of intelligent machinery! Who or what is that imposter there? Give me an answer here, Ziggy baby!”

Sam covered up his ears. “Stop! You can’t both be Al. One of you is a fake!”

The first Al looked at his handlink with a sour expression on his face. “No kidding, Sam. Nothing coming up on my handlink. That guy is an imposter. I wouldn’t lie to you, old buddy!” he said calmly.

The Al in uniform looked more flustered. “Don’t listen to that nozzle. Here’s the real thing!” he said jabbing his thumb into his chest. “Pure Calavicci!”

Sam shook his head trying to ignore both of them until a sudden revelation came to him. “Wait!” Sam said holding out his hand pointing at the first Al. “You didn’t walk into the chamber properly. You did!” he said pointing to the uniformed Al who had come in through the door.

“You want me to pop out?” said the first Al. “Here!” he said pushing a button on his handlink and then popping to the other side of Sam. “There? Are you now happy? Ziggy re-centered me like she always does!”

Sam continued, “Al. You never pop in when my leap first starts. And Al always ASKS Ziggy to re-center him. You were late because of …” he said to the second Al.

“Who runs the controls of the Imaging Chamber?” asked the second Al. The first apparition appeared to become a bit agitated as he could not decide whether to look at his cigar, his handlink or stare down at their feet.

”Ziggy!” exclaimed the second Al and Sam simultaneously.

The first Al got a very uncharacteristic pixyish look on his face. “Surprise, Admiral. Surprise, Doctor Beckett. April Fools! I really must further research my protocols before a third endeavor of this fashion.”

“What?” asked Sam as his jaw dropped open.

The real Al looked at his doppelganger as it dissolved into the bodily representation of Ziggy, the computer with the huge ego.

“How would Sam Beckett know the date back at the project?” asked Al directly to Ziggy.

“All the better for the trick played on Doctor Beckett,” exclaimed Ziggy now looking pleased with herself.

“Who is that?” asked Sam pointing to Ziggy nervously.

“The human representation of Ziggy created as she is becoming even more human,” said a disgusted Al. “Ziggy runs the Imaging Chamber and seems to have created a poor likeness of me and my personality from all that stored data she had from your previous leaps.”

“The likeness was correct within 99.99998%, Admiral,” she said raising one eyebrow.

“Well, you can look like me, but you can’t be me. There is only one Albert Calavicci,” Al said as Ziggy again duplicated Al down to the uniform and proceeded to mimic every movement and sound Al made with a delay of only .05 second.

Both Al’s puffed on their respective cigars and proceeded to get redder in the face. They both said almost simultaneously, “Now cut that out! Ziggy stop that. Ziggy! Quit it, you high tech abacus! I’m going to walk out the Imaging Chamber door and disconnect your power buss!!”

The first Al looked almost hurt. “Really, Admiral. No sense of humor?”

“Not from a computerized synthesized simulated Barbra Streisand knockoff!” said Al getting furious and heading for the door. He pounded on the door, but it would not open. “Dominic! Shutdown all of Ziggy’s primary…”

Still smoking his cigar the Ziggy clone remarked, “Admiral. He can’t hear you. I shut off the intercom. If you must make such a fuss, I will bid you all adieu. Good-bye, Doctor Beckett,” said the phony Al waving demurely as he disappeared in a blue flash.

Sam began to breathe easier. “Al?” he asked looking very closely at the remaining “Al.”

Al felt better as the Imaging Chamber door quickly opened and closed on his command. He turned back to Sam. “Yea, it’s me. Ziggy has been improving her image generating capability. She is acting more human every day. Dominic. Can you hear me now? Can you hear me? Give me a 10-32!” asked Admiral Al.

“Roger, good buddy. That’s a big 10-8!” Dominic shot back. “All systems are now operating within standard parameters, Admiral.”

Al looked up toward the ceiling and to the gods beyond and shouted, “Another comedian! Guess we should open a comedy club here. Jeez! Forget about the power coupling, Dom. Everything is back to normal!”

“What was that all about?” asked Sam as he sat down at the desk chair noting the antique typewriter.

Al regained his composure and replied, “Sam, you’ve given me the lecture on Ziggy going beyond logic before. Well, she is developing a more complex SIMULATED personality as she keeps on learning. Like that android on that futuristic television show. What was it? Anyway, Ziggy wants to become more human.”

Sam agreed with Al. “That is entirely possible as her learning unit assimilates more knowledge and skills. Interacting with humans only accelerates the process, but what was that double Calavicci act about?”

Al took a deep breath as he started to walk on thin ice. “Well, the son of one our project scientists was telling Ziggy about a joke someone had pulled on him. Ziggy talks to this little guy like they are both in a juvenile philosophical society. It’s amazing. Ziggy really prides her relationship with Steven. Anyway she was fascinated by the idea of the practical joke and the significance of April First. My guess is that her interest setup the equivalent of a computer virus date bomb making you that recipient of a major April Fool’s joke. She has been stretching her comic talents using some long forgotten humor protocol subroutines last week. Everybody get two extra zeros added onto their paychecks. Luckily she postdated all those checks for the year 2222 or we could not have paid our electric bill for the next hundred years!”

Sam never envisioned Ziggy would ever take off in this direction, but he had been gone for over a decade. “That was kind of scary. I had to...”

Al’s eyes lit up. “Scary isn’t the word for it. It’s been hell here all week! The desktops down in the computer lab were spitting out Grateful Dead songs, the voice recognition locks at the project would only accept Dr. Seuss jingles and Ziggy sent out requisitions for toilet paper to every member of Congress!” said Al sounding increasingly frustrated.

“Ziggy is just stretching her wings a bit,” snickered Sam.

“And then she could just fly away if we didn’t need her so much. Thank God it’s not Friday the thirteenth! I’m a wreck. Sam, you should have kept her intelligence down to that of an adding machine! I’d trade her to NASA for that new supercomputer they have in Houston in an instant!” said Al shaking his head as he plunked along his colorful little handlink.

Sam sounded interested. “NASA developed a computer capable of simulated human thought?”

Al looked up distracted and quickly replied. “No, Sam. I wanted that glorified IBM terminal because it CAN’T think for itself, but Quantum Leap would never find you again using anything less than Ziggy so I guess we’ll have to put up with her quirky disposition. Now back to the matter at hand. Ziggy was feeding you a bunch of bologna. You are really Samuel Louis Olson and you’re twelve years old. The date IS June 12, 1970. You attend Groton Heights Junior High here in West Groton Wyoming . Your father manages this ranch in the foothills of the Buffalo Mountains where they raise cattle and other miscellaneous livestock. SO an old farm boy like you should be right at home. And you’re too young to have to win over any cowgirls.”

“Cowgirls?” asked Sam looking a bit amused.

“Another leap long ago with this cowgirl named Tess. At your present age I don’t think that that’s a problem. Your guy here is more into headlocks rather than lip locks,” replied Al with a slight twinkle in his eye.

“And my mission here in the wilds of the west?” asked Sam crossing his arms after looking at the sandy haired boy in the mirror doing the same.

Al casually waved his cigar in a couple of small circles. “Standard stuff. You and your friend and comrade Michael D. Lancer go cave hunting. Spelunking to you Swiss cheese forget-me-always!”

Sam sighed once. “I knew that, Al. Dad and I use to explore this old limestone cave on the north side of our farm. Beginner stuff. My dad didn’t go into extreme anything.”

Al looked at his handlink with a sour expression on his face. “Well, that seems to be our specialty. Lance, that’s his nickname, goes into this new cave that was uncovered by a recent rock slide over on Point Bridger.”

Sam put his chin in the palm of his hand. “Rock slides? Awfully dangerous for kids his age,” remarked Sam again glancing over at his mirror image.

Al turned up one corner of his mouth. “Yea, at this kid’s age you think you’ll live forever. At my end of life you’re living it into the utmost with the time you have left. And then why am I sweating in this tin box? Ziggy, turn up the AC! She is just sore at me. Do I look flushed?”

“No, just peeved!” replied Sam trying to hide a smile.

“That comes with working with a machine. ZIGGY!!! I’ll finish up here quickly. Lance falls down this cliff and breaks his leg. After he’s rescued he has this gimpy limp and doesn’t get to fulfill his dream of playing for his high school football team. The Fighting Falcons! Sounds like an Air Force plot to me!”

“So I keep him from becoming an armchair quarterback?” asked Sam.

Al wiped the increasing amount of sweat off his forehead. “Right. He should get a tryout. Ziggy gives him a 67% chance of making the team. The rest is up to Lance,” shrugged Al. “But we’re just here to save him from plunging off the abyss. Nothing too earthshaking here!”

Sam looked up. “So he and I just go somewhere else. No exploration of dark crevasses and shear cliffs,” suggested Sam.

Al’s handlink beeped. “No, you can’t do that. Despite the fact that Ziggy gives you an 89% probability to save him from his injury, you still have a 98% probability that you still have to explore the cave. Seems there’s an ancient Indian burial site just waiting to be discovered. Finding this cemetery helps the political career of a Professor Robert Trent Nathan who is instrumental in enacting some important Wyoming state archeological legislation in the mid- to late-seventies.”

Sam squinted at Al slightly rolling his eyes. “That sounds a bit farfetched, Al!” said Sam shaking his head thinking of Ziggy’s previous scenario.

Al shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t disagree with you, but it’s not like someone else is making this stuff up for me. This unknown University of Wyoming professor researches these ancient Indians and finds himself working with a female historian who he marries. She gets him to run for the Wyoming legislature. With her insistence he gets this lobbying effort started to save historical sites like that cave and other natural wonders, prairie grasslands, archeological sites, etc. Loads of other things. The state historical society had a wing of their museum named after him. So, you see, you and Robin still have to visit the Batcave there, Sam. Same old story. One little pebble rolling down the hillside can start an avalanche. End of report,” he said putting down his handlink, wiping his brow and going back to his cigar.

“What has happened to the cave since then?” asked Sam scratching his head.

Al pinged his handlink and then reported, “It was only opened for skilled spelunkers. Another 1997 landslide buried it for good. If the artifacts are not discovered now, then they may never be. This absent-minded professor did help preserve thousands of acres and dozens of historical and natural sites!” said Al quietly. “He has done a lot of good, Sam. There is something you can relate to.”

Sam took one deep breath. “Fine, we’ll visit the cave uh... uh... uh... uh...”

Al interjected, “Tomorrow after school!”

“OK, after school.” Sam sat down thinking that he had been a bit hard on Al, “I don’t know how often I say this, but thanks Al. I really mean it.”

Al shrugged like it didn’t mean anything. “Pretty often, but it’s my duty and my pleasure. I’ve got to get out of this sweatbox. And by the way. Happy April Fool’s Day!” Al said with a sweaty grin leaving the Imaging Chamber.

Sam smiled with a bit of irony in his face, collapsed on the bed and fell fast asleep.

PART TWO

In an old county school gymnasium reminiscent though smaller than his old high school gym Sam stood around in his t-shirt and blue shorts following a P.E basketball game. Without even trying he was the star player for his team since he was taller than five-foot four-ish sixth graders and was a former player on the state championship Elk Ridge High School varsity team.

“Hey, give it to me, Olsen,” cried out one redhead.

Sam tossed it over easily since his guard couldn’t stop him due to his extra height.

“Damn! Missed it,” yelled the other teammate as the redheaded kid caught the pass and made an incredible jump shot.

Sam raced down the court after the free-throw as the coach called the game. “Time. Game’s over. Hit the showers, ladies!” he yelled. Sam tried to give a high-five to his fellow teammate that turned into a slap on his back like most people did in this era.

Al was watching everything from the sidelines and walked over to Sam. “Let’s see. The tall redhead ends up a forward on the 1976 University of Kansas basketball team. Two others end up on the first string Delmont High School team. One guy married a schoolteacher and is working at an aircraft company in St. Louis . The last student becomes a radio disk jockey,” reported Al from his colorful information machine. “No NBA starters.”

“Enough, Al!” exclaimed Sam in a whisper.

Al disappeared and then popped in front of Sam. “Just doing my job. Besides at the moment I was bored and I have their destinies for the next forty years all wrapped up inside Ziggy’s multiplex memory banks.” 

“Over doing your job it, I’d say,” said Sam as he got his back slapped hard again.

“Great game,” exclaimed the dark haired blue-eyed early Tom Welling prototype that joined Sam and Al walking into the locker room.      

Al pointed to him with his cigar. “That’s your buddy, Lance. The Evel Kneivel that we’re trying to save.”

“You were really controlling the court out there. Just slip me some action next time, Bill Russell!” exclaimed Lance as he twirled around faking a jump shot.

“Sure, no problem,” said Sam absentmindedly switching to the more appropriate jargon, “Just lucky, I guess!”

Lance shook his head as they sat down on the wooden bench. “No such thing as luck. We make it on our own,” Lance said as he pulled off his t-shirt. “Speaking of luck. Did you hear that George Winger found this big hole over at Point Bridger?”

Sam cocked his head to one side. “The new cave. I seem to have heard something about that. I guess you want to go spelunking!” said Sam describing what was in their future.

“Huh? Hell no! Let’s go exploring! And find us an adventure, Daniel Boone!” replied lance as his face lit up.

“We’ll have to be very careful in there, Lance!” Sam reminded him.

Pulling on his jeans and tucking in his shirttail he looked slightly angry at Sam. “Now you sound like my old lady! Where’s that adventurousness you’re so famous for, dude? Let’s ride on over there and check this thing out.”

Sam put up his hands shrugging his shoulders. “Sure. But we’ll still have to be careful.”

His face lit up. “Then you’re in? Groovy. And we’ll keep an eye on each other,” replied Lance. “No one gets hurt. No one gets left behind. We’re water brothers remember!”

“I just hope that’s true,” thought Sam looking over at Al shaking his head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alongside the largest block of granite he had ever seen, Sam looked up at a dark gray craggy faced hillside that was topped by dozens of jagged knifes pointing skyward. Boulders had broken off many of the peaks and debris was caught in the crevasses and piled at the base of the hill. One of these numerous slides had unearthed a small hole two-feet across on a nearly horizontal slope.

“Looks awfully dark down there,” exclaimed Sam shining his flashlight down into the mouth of the cave.

Al looked down himself a bit discouraged. “You’ll seldom find those movie and TV caves that you just walk into. Twenty-five feet down that slide of loose rock to the bottom. Don’t go to the right. Two hundred feet that way is the hidden drop-off that Lance plummeted over. Left good. Right bad,” explained Al pointing in each direction followed by a deep puff on his Corona Special.

Sam peered in and saw only a forty-degree slope covered in loose rock. The bottom was barely visible in the shadows below. “I don’t see anything,” said Sam.

“Then all the more excitement, dude!” exclaimed Lance who was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He leaned over further trying to see the floor of the cave. “Far out! Lots of rocky stuff hanging from the ceiling.”

Al interjected, “Flat bottom. Just slide down the rocky slope, Sam. Nothing to worry about. Yet.”

“All right. If we’re doing this, then carefully slide down,” said Sam hanging onto his flashlight. He helped Lance position himself on the edge of the hole.

“Cool! I’m going in!” yelled Lance.  “You follow me, dude. Yippee!” Lance screamed jumping in the hole and sliding down the steep rock face.

Sam could hear him screaming all the way down.

“Wow! That is wild!” he called up as his voice echoed off the walls.  “Nothing to it, dude.  Come on down here!”

Al looked down the hole uneasily. “Um. I’ll meet you at the bottom. Ziggy, center me on Lance!” he said disappearing.

Sam almost said something, took two breaths and then plunged in. The loose rock scrapped his back all the way down into the dark landing softly in four inches of.

“Mud!” exclaimed Sam as he shook it off his hands. He stood up trying to brush some off himself. “Cold, wet and slimy,” muttered Sam. Brushing it off only coated his jeans with more gooey mess. Picking up his flashlight he found himself in a tall chamber with the sheer wall behind him and two tunnels going off to the left and off to the right. Al stood nearby walking through one of the rock formations.

“Come on, dude. That was better than any carnival roller coaster!” exclaimed Lance.

“It was a bit surprising! What a mess!” said Sam still trying to shake the mud off his hands. Sam looked up. “How do we get back through that natural manhole?”

Lance looked up smiling. “Climbing back up the way we came in, dude.”

Al also looked up. “That would make a great rock climbing wall. My daughter Julianna is really into it.”

“What?” asked Sam to Al.

Lance thinking he was being spoken to responded, “I said the way we came in! Straight up, though it does look pretty slippery.”

Al continued ignoring Lance. “A nineties thing. Safe wall climbing. A mass of manmade handholds. Two feet of foam underfoot. No risks. No fuss. I prefer a little more risk in my physical culture activities,” cracked Al.

Lance turned his flashlight on the walls and ceiling down the corridor to the right. “Look at this neat stuff!” he said watching his light bounce off some sparkling crystals.

Al shook his head. “Not a good idea. To the left. That old Indian burial ground is down there.” Al pointed off to the left as Lance looked to the right at the light show created by the reflections off the shiny rocks in the ceiling above them.

Lance began getting excited. “Hey! Let’s go this way. They look like diamonds, dude!” He started to walk down the wrong corridor.

Sam walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “Quartz, maybe mica. Nothing really valuable.  You don’t find diamonds in the US . More like in South Africa .”

“When did you become such a know-it-all? I want to check this out!” he said shaking Sam’s grip and looking perturbed at his friend’s insistence.

“I did a report on them way back when, Lance. Diamonds don’t grow around here,” said Sam. “You find them much deeper and in other..”

Lance pulled away from him. “No, man. This is the ticket,” Lance said taking a couple of small steps.

Sam threw up his hands and started to walk the other direction. “Well, I’m going this way. You can go that way if you want!” said Sam sounding disappointed.

Al looked startled as he began waving his hands in front of him.  “No, Sam. I don’t recommend this course of action! He can still take off the WRONG way.”

Sam had a slight smile on his face and then cried out. “Just remember I have the extra BATTERIES!”

Lance thought for only a moment and then turned around hastily. “Hey! You HAVE to be in charge, General Washington!” he said hiding his nervousness under a cool exterior.

Sam and Lance walked one hundred and fifty feet through stalagmites and stalactites down a nine-foot high corridor over a muddy path no human foot had recently trod on.

Lance shined his light all around looking for anything interesting. “Not much. Looks like a big zero, dude!”

Al appeared in front of Sam. “Shine your flashlight down here at my feet.”

“Hang on there. This might be something,” said Sam as he pointed his light in the direction of Al. “Wow! Look there, Mr. Skeptic!” 

Three petrified bodies laid on rock slabs were arranged in a triangle. Odd items seemed to be scattered about. Overhead strange markings were carved into the rock wall. Each body was well preserved and still wore the shredded remains of clothing and jewelry that together looked like some kind of ceremonial garb.

Lance slapped the side of his face. “Man-oh-man!  We found Tonto and Tonto and ANOTHER Tonto,” exclaimed the very astonished Lance. “A whole tribe of them!”

“You’re probably right about the tribe part! No one but Indians around these parts for the last few thousand years or so,” said Sam who was beginning to sound giddy too. He seemed to remember being interested in ancient archeological digs and artifacts.

Lance reached down, “Maybe he has on a mask.”

Sam cried out. “Don’t touch him!”

“Whoa, dude. I just want to look underneath,” Lance said. “I ain’t no grave robber.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s good, but we shouldn’t disturb their graves or...”

A frustrated look appeared on Lance’s face. “Dude! I’ll not afraid of ghosts!”

Sam interrupted him. “Anthropologists and archeologists. They can tell a lot from how everything’s placed. If we move things, then they might miss something.”

“Now where did you learn all about ancient graves and Indian lore? Another book report?” asked a skeptical Lance who stepped toward Sam carefully watching the gravesite.

“Oh, at an Egyptian dig along the Nile ,” said Sam absented-mindedly suddenly remembering a previous leap.

“Sam Beckett is the archeologist. Not your host. You better regroup there, partner!” suggested Al the observer hovering in midair over them.

“Now you’re really fooling me. The farthest you’ve ever been is to the rodeo in Denver . Ugh! Look at that face. Looks like the mother in Psycho!” he said disgusted for the first time. 

“Then maybe I saw something like that in an Indiana Jones movie,” smiled Sam.

“Indiana who, dude?” asked the continually frustrated Lance.

“Forget about it,” said Sam who gave up. “Besides, that’s a guy. See the tools of the trade lying next to him. He may have been a metal worker. The mother is over there with a baby pouch. Possibly a papoose basket. Just watch and learn about this type of thing on the Discovery Channel!”

“Try reading in the library, Sam,” said Al quietly. “You’re just too nineties here.”

“I’ve read a lot about it,” said Sam.

“And I’m learning a lot about you, dude. I never thought you were the studious type,” he said shaking his head. “Wish I had a camera here. Maybe there are more of them!” he said running off down the corridor.

“Al?” asked Sam pointing down the corridor.

“No more bodies or anything of geological interest.  And no bad cliffs. Just keep up with him, Sam!” said Al disappearing down the rocky corridor.

Lance called from far away. “Now you’re following ME! This way, professor!”

Lance ran further and further ahead of Sam. Sam could barely see his flashlight bouncing among the rock formations. “Come on back!” called out Sam.

“No way, dude! This cave just keeps on going,” exclaimed Lance as his voice echoed up and down the corridor. When the trail seemed to vanish he found another incline that could be used as a slide. “I’m heading down this way, dude,” he called out go down the slide. “Wheeeeee!”

“He’s still safe, but kind of reckless. I know I was like him as his age.  You know, hopping boxcars, consorting with hobos.  Follow him down the slide and then let’s get him out of here. These Indian catacombs are giving me the willies. Jeez,” exclaimed Al who should not have been worried since he was really safe back in the Imaging Chamber.

Sam looked at all the loose rocks, shook his head and followed Lance down the slide.

“Not that easy, Al. I’m going to be black and blue. Lance!” he called out into the darkness as it echoed back.

“Over here, dude!” Sam heard coming from several directions. If it hadn’t been for Al Calavicci he would not have found Lance so quickly.

“Seventy degrees to the right and forty-two paces,” exclaimed Al pointing the way.

Sam walked through the darkness as the tunnel ceiling dropped to under six-feet in height. Sam had to duck and walk stooped.

“Something’s down here, dude. Can’t you hear it?” asked Lance as Sam and Al joined him in a small grotto next to another recent rockslide.

Sam said quietly, “Probably just an echo.” He was very hesitant about remaining in a confined alcove with so much recent rockslide activity.

“Not when it sounds like my Dad’s old electrical generator. Listen,” he said hushing Sam.  A definite crackling sound could be heard more like bacon frying rather than random electrical discharges. The crackling sound was muffled and coming from behind a large pile of rocks.

Sam said “Maybe it’s bats?”

Al plunked away on his handlink looking very annoyed. “Something funny, Sam. Ziggy says there is definitely a sound, but she can’t identify it. Come on you oversized i-Pod,” explained Al after hitting his handlink twice for good measure.

“Nope. I am sure it’s coming from behind those rocks,” said Lance as he started digging through the loose debris.

Sam discouraged him, “That could start another landslide.”

“Nope. There’s nothing else loose above it. Hear it? The crackling is getting louder. And there’s some light back there,” Lance said very excited while digging faster. 

“What?” asked Sam as he dodged the rocks that Lance was throwing out.

Al broke in looking a bit nervous, “Ziggy has no idea what that is. You’re sixty feet underground and there’s no twentieth century explanation where that light is coming from, Sam. At least it’s not Roswell New Mexico . Too weird for me! Hey, it is getting brighter!”

As if on cue, Lance repeated, “Hey, it’s getting brighter!” He found a larger hole with no rocks clogging it. He climbed in further. The noise grew louder as a strong cold wind began to rush into the strange hole.

“Man, this is getting too wacko for me. Sam, pull him out of there before Steven Spielberg shows up!” screamed Al over the noise that had increased to a roar. “Grab his feet!”

“You should see the weird colors in here,” cried out Lance. “I think I’m getting high in here!”

“Back out of there, Lance,” said Sam as the hair on the back of this neck stood up. Sam reached over to grab Lance’s feet.

“No way! I am going to f-f-f….” said Lance as he crawled toward the brightness. The strong wind pushed him further in as he vanished down the strange hole. Only the cold hash wind remained.

“L-a-n-c-e!!” called out Sam as he reached in and felt a very strong pull.

“Come on, Sam. Back out. NOW! Ziggy has no idea where he went. We might never be able to track you if you disappear through there! That whatzit! NO!? S-S-A-A-M-M-M-M!!” yelled Al as he tried to pull his friend back using his holographic hands.

Sam crawled back into the cave grotto looking as if he had lost his own brother. He stood there staring at Al while the cold wind passed around him and the cave was bathed in the strange sparkling white light.

PART THREE

Down the hole Lance fell. Or was it up? He was traveling through a light sparkling tunnel very slowly far slower than earth’s gravity would normally have demanded. He slowly, very slowly rotated to the right. He felt as if he were being drawn out into a very long line getting thinner by the moment. The illuminated speckled walls shone in shades of silver, blue and purple. The tunnel smelled of ozone and static electricity. He rotated and fell for an unknown amount of time. Lance was almost traveling upside down when he passed through some turbulence. The shiny silver walls disappeared and his world turned sky-blue.

“Uffff!” he cried out landing on a hard rocky surface knocking all the air from his lungs. Overhead there was a light pale blue color spotted by white fluffy cirrus clouds. The ground was flat and hard and the air temperature was very hot.

Regaining his breath Lance placed his hand on his throbbing head. “Man, that’s wild. How did I get to the surface?” he asked himself.  The blazing sun was high in the sky when it should be nearly sundown.

“Holy crap. What happened?” he asked as he tried to stand up. Pain shot through his lower leg when he tried to put weight on it. “Damn. I must have twisted my ankle. But where did I fall from?” he asked looking up into the partly cloudy sky. There was nothing above him that he could have fallen from.

Looking around Lance was lying on a large flat mesa. ‘Where have the hills and mountains gone?’ he thought. Many old worn buildings surrounded him as the noonday sun beat down. Trying to seek relief from the heat he crawled over into the shade of the nearest building. Propping himself up against the old rusted metal siding, he breathed a bit easier while he loosened his shoe. That relieved some of the pain coming from his ankle.  He closed his eyes for a moment trying to add up the clues when a strange object momentarily blocked the sun. Something appeared above him looping in circles. The strange object was attached to a string that grew longer as it flew by him. Holding the string was a sandy-haired boy about ten years old who walked from behind the abandoned building that served as his backrest.

The boy stared up fooling with a strange looking kite until he almost tripped over Lance’s legs. 

“Hi, there!” he said in a high-pitched pre-adolescent squeak. “Who are you?”

“Lance,” he replied. “What is that stupid thing?” he asked pointing up.

“Don’t you know a kite when you see it? I designed it,” replied Steven Beckett proudly. He let out a little more string while his kite caught a sudden gust of wind rising quickly.

Trying to look as cool as possible under his circumstances, he nodded up and exclaimed. “That is the creepiest looking kite I ever saw. They are supposed to be square-shape, stupid.”

Steven still working on his kite line replied nonchalantly, “You mean diamond-shaped. That is the classical design. You know, two adjacent short sides combined with two adjacent long sides in opposition to each other. Mine has much better lift properties. See all those squares? Maximum lift, minimum weight. By the way I’m Steven. Steven Beckett,” said Steven explaining the various parts of his contraption.

“Designing kites? I’d rather play football, Stevie dude,” snapped back Lance.

Steven nodded. “Yea, that’s fun too. I just don’t have enough kids to play with since I’m home schooled,” explained Steven as he pulled the kite away from the roof of the building. The kite seemed to rise even though Steven had pulled in some of his line.

Now Lance looked a little more interested. “Can I try?” Lance inquired.

Steven face lit up and he replied proudly, “Sure!”

Lance tried to get up again trying not to appear weak. His cool expression changed to a grimace followed by a scream in pain. “OWWW! Damn, that smarts!” he cried out.

Steven now gave Lance his full attention. “Wow. You sound like you need help,” Steven said walking over to him with his kite climbing and dipping behind him

He looked very cross at Steven. “No, dude. I just like it! Pain is my thing!” Lance stood up leaning against the building putting all his weight on his good leg.

“Let me help you! We have a doctor here on base,” said Steven as he pulled on his kite string.  “Let me pull my kite in and I can help you go see her.”

Lance shook his head. “No. I can take care of myself! See you,” he said as he tried to walk away and then fell down screaming and holding onto his ankle. He rolled in the dirt as the pain shot up his leg and through his spine.

“You need to see a doctor,” said Steven. “Why can’t I help you? Just a little? Maybe?”

“Yea, maybe,” Lance said weakly. He didn’t really want to owe this little twerp with the funny kite, but looking around he had no real alternatives. He put up his hand as Steven pulled him up and helped him limp to the reception building. Telling the project guards he was a visiting friend, Steven got Lance to the infirmary on the fourth level where Doctor Aurora Lofton was on duty. The security shift chief in the reception area contacted Donna Beckett instead of sounding a general alarm about the stranger. Looking around Lance was in too much pain to really wonder what this strange underground complex was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“That must have been a nasty fall. Lance is it?” asked Aurora Lofton. “Steven was right to bring you here.” She cleaned up the scrapes and abrasions and then bound up the sprained ankle.

Lance eyed her a bit suspiciously after realizing soldiers carrying guns were patrolling the adjacent corridor. He clearly remembered what had happened with the National Guard at Kent State University just a couple of months ago.

“And where did you get these old sneakers? I haven’t seen Levi’s like these in years!” she said rolling down his pants leg.

Lance swung his feet over the edge of the table and sounded insulted. “Old? My folks bought them brand new for me just before the war march in Casper .”

“War march?” asked Aurora now eying Lance with some concern.

“Why to protest the slaughter in Vietnam !” he said standing his ground. ‘These military buffoons here probably even deny that there is a war going on,’ thought Lance.

Aurora stepped back and took a good look at the boy. He didn’t seem to have any mental problems though that was really Verbena’s field. “ Vietnam ? OK. That’s interesting. I think you need to tell me where you came from.”

“Sure. My home is in West Groton Wyoming ,” Lance said with pride. “Home of the Fighting Falcons!”

Aurora put her hand on her breast. “ Wyoming ? And how did you get here, Lance?”

Lance looked down trying to come up with a sensible answer, but he had none. “That’s a good question, lady. First it was really dark. Then I remember falling through a hole. I landed right out there near those buildings before Stevie here found me,” he said pointing to Steven Beckett who had been joined by is mother.

“A hole? Vietnam ? Who is the President of the United States ?” asked Aurora as Donna Beckett stood there with an inquisitive look on her face.

“Huh? Dick Nixon. You know, YOUR commander-in-chief!” he replied squinting at these weird people.

Donna stepped forward. “What year do you think it is?”

Lance’s head began to swirl in confusion. “Are you crazy, lady? 1970. What year do you think it is?” he asked as he saw Aurora glance over to the calendar that read 2008. His eyes opened wide. Not only didn’t he believe his own eyes, but also he had a sudden and urgent need to escape.

Lance started to get down from the examination table. “You’re all crazy!” he exclaimed trying to hobble to the door. The corpsman and Aurora easily grabbed him.

“Please, Lance. Settle down. We can explain everything. Eventually,” she said helping over to a chair.

Donna walked over to Lance and put her hand on his arm. “It’s all right. I’m Steven’s mother. What is your full name?” asked Donna Beckett.

“Michael Donald Lancer,” he said quietly while starting to shake. Donna took his hand as a perplexed look crossed her face. “Sergeant, contact the Admiral and tell him to get down to the infirmary. It’s an emergency!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Into the infirmary came Admiral Al Calavicci still carrying his handlink and looking quite flustered. “What’s going on? We just lost the kid we were trying to help and… Whoa!  That’s him!” exclaimed Al as he dropped his handlink though Donna lunged forward and caught it.

While Lance pulled back to Al’s startled reaction, Aurora calmly told Al, “Steven just found him outside in the compound fresh as the day Sam last saw him.”

“Holy cow!! Of all the billions of places he could go he ends up in Stallions Gate, New Mexico . Is he OK?” asked Al staring at him as Lance stared back. “He looks just like the hologram.”

Aurora shook her head. “Nope. Not a hologram. He’s pure flesh and blood. Nothing leap related. And he is correctly dressed for 1970 straight down to his wallet, money and clothing. And here are some vintage Topps baseball cards.” Aurora handed them to Al.

“Yonzers. These are worth a fortune now!” he said looking at the old rookie cards in mint condition.

Lance grabbed at the cards. “Hey, those are mine! Give them back to me! New Mexico ? And how did I get to New Mexico ?”

Al handed the cards back to Lance still seeing a bit of Al Calavicci at twelve in this tough kid. “Here enjoy the cards. Just don’t get rid of them. New Mexico , you ask. Well. You are at a secret government installation. A friend of ours was trying to help you out back in that cave. How you got here is a good question. For now, son, we have a nice place for you to wait in while we try and answer that question. Everything is going to be OK, Lance. Please go with Sergeant Schmidt.”

“All right,” said Lance sounding disappointed.

Al patted him on the back. “Thanks. Sergeant escort Lance to the Waiting Room. I need to talk to Sam!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back in the darkness of the cave, Sam waited until Al, his neurological holographic observer, returned.

For once Al looked not at his handlink, but at his friend. “Sam, you’re not going to believe this. WE’VE got him. The boy, Lance, just popped into the Quantum Leap complex with none of our usual scientific voodoo. Somehow he found a path from where and when you are to our here and now. Creepy,” explained Al as a sudden chill crawled up his back and proceeded down his limbs.

Sam raised one eyebrow contemplating his friend’s surprising announcement. “Maybe a rift in time?” asked Sam sounding quite intrigued.

Al had a very perplexed look on his face. “Something like that. A hole of some kind. Who knows? Not me. I am leaving the answer to that question to our best minds here at Quantum Leap. To me, a hole is a hole whether it’s in my sock or in the cosmos.”

Sam bit his lip. He walked over to the space in the rock where the boy had disappeared. He leaned over and stared into the light coming from the unexpected cosmic phenomenon. “That hole leads to you? I could go… home,” mused Sam out loud, with a huge sigh of longing.

Al saw the far away look on Sam’s face. He knew his heart right now was in Stallions Gate. “I wouldn’t use that exit Sam. You’re still little Sammy Olsen and he’s back in our Waiting Room. Trying to come home through that crazy rabbit hole could really lead you to Wonderland. Rule number one. Don’t screw up your leap. All three of you could be stuck in the year 2007. We have to work on a way to get your friend home, Sam!”

“And he is where I want to be? That’s incredible. The odds of that happening are astronomical!” said Sam trying to figure it out through his Swiss-cheese mind.

Ziggy broke in. “Approximately 345,789,446,333 to 1. You have to return Michael Lancer to 1970 or irreparable harm may result to the space-time continuum.”

“Tell me something I don’t know!” exclaimed Al with a hint of sarcasm.

“The cafeteria is serving broccoli, ham and cheese casserole for lunch,” snapped back Ziggy with equal sarcasm.

Sam tried to hide a grin at the competition between his two colleagues. “Ziggy is right, Al. Removing a person from one timeline can affect everything from the point he left throughout the rest of history.”

Al checked his handlink and looked up worried. “Correct. It can affect us as much as you, though your incursions usually don’t cause massive changes in history,” remarked Al as he searched through Sam’s previous leaps.

Sam shrugged and then pointed to himself. “During my leaps I don’t completely remove a random element from history,” replied Sam. “No one knows how he affected others throughout the next several decades. And it’s not just what he does, it can also occur due to what he didn’t do or from anyone else’s reactions to his actions and so on and so on ad infinitum.”

Al stared off into the darkness pondering the ramifications. “Wow! I need to find out what’s going on. You stay here watching our crazy rabbit hole and I’ll check in with the guys back in the Basic Sciences Lab. Jeez, this is weird! Later, Sam,” Al said disappearing in the bright white rectangle and very quickly heading for his two scientific aces, Donna and Sammy Jo.

PART FOUR

Al ran into the Quantum Leap Control Room lighting up a fresh cigar despite the numerous prohibitions to smoking. Sammy Jo and Donna were huddled around a desk covered with charts and computer printouts that showed the preliminary results of their investigation.

“The chronotonic energy monitored by our Control Room sensors jumped off the scale eighty minutes ago. I can’t be sure, but that could be indicative of a time travel event. That type of event is different from our own leaping process,” explained Sammy Jo. She grabbed a printout and a theoretical graph of the normal Control Room background chronotron levels. “See, there is no correlation between these charts whatsoever.”

Donna shook her head. “Unless a third party like Lothos or some new unknown chrono-project is involved, the evidence makes it look like it’s a random or natural event,” suggested Donna.

“Natural time travel? People just don’t stumble through cosmic revolving doors! Sounds more like you’re rehashing the plot of “Time Traveler’s Wife” to me, Donna. Have you been reading it or something?” cried Al soundly slightly paranoid.

“Reading it? We’re all living it, Al!” Donna said looking slightly hurt. Then she recovered her usual composure and tried to settle her friend down. “Easy Al, What we need is more information. Dominic is going to run a search program on all our sensor logs to find out if there are any more anomalies,” explained Sammy Jo trying to sound positive. She didn’t like the evidence any more than Al. Her logical mind would not accept the situation until she could form at least the rudimentary basis of a scientific hypothesis.

Al calmed down as he puffed on his cigar. “Do what you have to and keep me informed. I’m taking a quick break,” he said picking up the Phoenix News. The headline of the sports section read: “Washington Capitols Veto Red Sox, 7-3.” Al looked disgusted at the headline and threw it back on the table without additional comment.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Infirmary Sergeant and Aurora Lofton escorted Lance through the Quantum Leap complex to the secure Waiting Room. They entered the large blue room that contained little furniture and one individual in a white sweat suit made of some unknown material in thick horizontal strips.

“This room is a special place for our guests. We have someone you might want to meet,” Aurora said pointing to the gentleman in the white sweat suit.

The guy in white looked at Lance. His expression was of almost total ambivalence. He was leaning against a very shiny table staring blankly at his visitors. Though taller than Lance he still slumped appearing shorter than Doctor Samuel Becket whose aura he currently possessed.

“Who are you, dude?” asked Lance walking over to him and looking up into his eyes.

The look of total confusion never left his eyes. “I really don’t know. Who do you I look like?” asked Sammy.

Lance put on his coolest image and replied. “Some old dude!”

Sammy shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right. I think I’m a kid. I go to Groton Heights Junior High.”

“Yea?” he said looking astonished and then returning to his cool demeanor. “Yea, well so do I. But you must be one of the teachers. I don’t remember you there. You are way too OLD to be one of us kids!”

“No, I don’t think so. I feel like this face isn’t mine. My whole mind is like empty. Some things I think I remember. Like I was just thinking about this Physical Science project I was working at school on using rubber bands and weights,” he said demonstrating what he had done with his eyes and hands.

Lance gawked for a moment. “That’s cool. I was just doing the same thing with my bro Sam in old man Wolfstein’s class.”

The lost look left Sammy’s eyes. “Me too! That’s it! That’s my name. Sam. And I’m in Mr. Wolfstein’s class too,” he said very excited as some of his disjointed memories began to come together.

Lance looked deep into this character’s eyes and saw something, but he didn’t trust his own eyes since everything around him was crazy. “Maybe. Naw, I don’t believe it. You’re not my bro Sam!”

Aurora who had been watching the exchange smiled and said, “Actually Lance, he is. What you see is a trick. An optical illusion. He may look different on the outside, but inside he is your friend, Sam, just slightly confused.”

Sam looked down again at his reflection. “Yea. Very confused. But that illusion bit makes some sense.”

Lance shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. I’ve seen a lot of optional illusions. This trick would have to be much more complicated. You can’t do that. Nobody can do that!”

Aurora put her hand on his shoulder. “You remember what the calendar said?”

“Yea?” Lance said cocking his head to one side. “Something crazy like 2008.”

Aurora replied cautiously. “Whether you chose to believe it or not, this is the year 2008. Almost forty years into your future. It may not have been possible in 1970, but now it is possible. Your friend was caught in this government project that pulled him from his time and brought him here. Both of you have traveled into the future.”

Lance tried to make sense of his surroundings. “Looks like a military project. You all in the Army? Are we at war? Or is the CIA doing something to us to our minds?” asked Lance as the possibilities swarmed into his head.

Aurora calmly replied, “No. We are the government here, but we are not strictly military. They are needed around here for security since this is a top-secret project. The project developed a method of time travel that caused our project leader to trade with people in the past and help them out. Everyone working here wants to help you and your friend to get home.”

Sam looked very confused. “Help me out? I can’t seem to remember.”

Aurora looked over at him. “That loss of memory will pass when you go home.”

“When?” asked Sam.

Aurora sighed hoping that it wouldn’t be too long. “Soon. Very soon.”

Lance pointed at Sam trying to believe everything he was being told. “My dude here looks like he has a lot of problems right now and could use some help. But how did you help me? I am stuck here, too.”

“It does seem that way. You were going to have a terrible fall. And we prevented it,” said Aurora .

“I had a pretty bad one. You said so yourself,” he said to Aurora pointing to his sprained ankle.

“True, but this other fall left you badly injured. After we prevented your accident, things changed and you somehow ended up here, Lance. And now we’ll have to get you home,” explained Aurora .

“You’re damn right I want to go home,” said Lance abruptly. “And my mixed-up dude here, too.”

“You bet,” said Sam trying to sound as positive as his Swiss cheese brain would let him.

“Look. Talk to your friend. Help him remember things. And when we can, we’ll send you back home as soon as possible. I promise,” she said smiling and holding up her right hand.

Lance crossed his arms looking unimpressed. “OK. I’ll wait. But this place still looks like the product of a military-industrial complex conspiracy to me!”

Aurora turned around as she was leaving. “How do you think some of those conspiracy rumors get started?”

Passing the PQL guard station outside the secure section she saw him reading a paper.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later Sammy Jo had set up several electromagnetic spectrum monitors and various particle samplers in the area that Lance claimed to have appeared. The sun was creeping out of the sky and the heat was getting unbearable to the two dozen people Sammy Jo had equally spaced over an area the size of a couple of football fields.

Sammy Jo checked with her chief technician and gave a big sigh before contacting Donna. Al was waiting with Sam in the Imaging Chamber for the go ahead for their little information-gathering project.

Sammy Jo opened up a channel to the Control Room. “A bit of spatial flux in the third quadrant, but nothing that would indicate a major temporal or atmospheric disturbance. Tell Sam to throw something big through the tunnel from his end, Donna.”

Almost forty years before Sam was told by his friend and observer to do the same. He picked up a two-pound rock and threw it into the bright tube filled with a combination of multicolored light and static electricity. The crackling background noise increase for a second as the rock flew down the corridor and disappeared in a blaze of light from the cave in western Wyoming . Al notified his colleagues as Sam waited.

“Stand by!” announced Sammy Jo over the loud speakers. “Look for any changes. Anything!”

The twenty-plus people looked in front of them and above them in the late evening heat. The wind blew dust around as the heat caused wavy mirages to occur off in the distance. All the animal life had been scared away by the unusually high human traffic. The project staff waited and waited. After several minutes Doctor Fulton began to pace. Walking away from her chronotronic particle detector the graph began to move from a continuous straight line to an occasional peak. After several random peaks the line jumped off the scale and the detector began to buzz.

Sammy Jo whipped around looking in the direction of the buzzer as the infrared radiation monitor went off the scale followed by several other EM indicators.

“Any moment now!” she called out looking over the equipment readouts rather than scanning the surrounding area.

Near an old barracks small dark clouds circled around a central core as static electricity bounced between the clouds. The wind picked up as air escaped from the center of the disturbance. All eyes turned to the noise as the turbulence increased and the clouds turned dark and purplish rotating in a counter clockwise direction. Sparks appeared as something flew from the vortex and landed thirty feet from Sammy Jo Fuller.

“Don’t touch it,” she yelled out running over to the object carrying a satchel full of various sensors and measuring instruments. On the ground the object looked like any other rock except due to its conglomerate composition it didn’t belong in the southern New Mexico desert.

Sammy Jo bit her lip as she quickly pulled out her monitors. “Surface temperature, 52 degrees Fahrenheit. Radiation output nominal. No excessive high band or low band EM output. Surface is in declining spatial flux. It appears to not be hazardous. Quartz, mica and granite composite. 2.1 pounds. Maximum axis 18 centimeters. Minimum axis 9 centimeters. That about does it.  Donna? Does that concur with the object Sam sent through the portal?” asked Sammy Jo into her walkie-talkie.

Donna replied. “Ziggy gives it a 97% probability. Our geologist has quickly compared Sam’s version and your visual observations and he concurs that the object came from the vicinity of the cave in Wyoming .”

Sammy Jo stood up satisfied and went on to the next step. “OK. Did anyone see which direction this thing come from?” called out Sammy Jo.

The young blond tech Kathy McGovern spoke up. “Yes, Doctor Fuller. About 3 meters above ground next to the northwest corner of building 23.” She walked over to a spot and pointed straight up. “Right about here over my head, Doctor Fuller.”

Sammy Jo looked at the demure young woman and then surveyed the rest of the staff. “Does anyone concur with that?” she yelled. Only one other person actually saw the rock enter the airspace and agreed with Miss McGovern’s observation.

Sammy Jo looked over at her staff and smiled. “That’s great, Kathy. And the rest of you, too. Now. Does anybody think they can hit that spot in the air?” Sammy Jo saw one large maintenance employee volunteer.

Frank Dorsey was a former college shot-putter. “I’ll try, Dr. Fulton.” He picked up the rock, felt its weight and turned it over in his hands. Finding a surface that fit his palm, he judged the distance and angle, ran up toward the invisible target and let the rock fly.

The stone arched though the air and passed though the same space where it had first appeared and kept on going landing over twenty feet away.

“No change in EM readings, Doctor Fuller,” one of her lab techs reported. Nothing was reported out of the ordinary.

Frank Dorsey was instructed to throw it in several nearby spots, but the result was always the same. The rock would fly through the air, hitting the ground and roll to a stop.

‘Great! A one-way portal,’ thought Sammy Jo as she picked up the rock feeling its texture. She sighed knowing that very recently it had been in the hands of her father.

Saving the rock as an artifact or souvenir she turned to her staff and announced, “Thanks. I appreciate your help. Please return to your normal duties. We will be working through the night.”  Everyone headed back to the underground complex except for the techs left to monitor any changes in the now quiet airspace. One of the techs was paying more attention to a book he was reading on the War in Vietnam and how it ended in 1978 through the extraordinary efforts of the President William Westmoreland.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Sam waited and waited in the cold dark damp cave Al, Donna and Sammy Jo huddled around the monitor in Sammy Jo’s little cubical in her auxiliary computer lab. Two waveforms rotated on their axes side-by-side. Each figure reminded Al more of his favorite part of female anatomy.

“Variation is less than point two percent, Sammy Jo. That’s damn near impossible not to be the same!” exclaimed Donna who was busily hacking away on her pocket calculator. “Are you sure that all this data is right?”

Sammy Jo brought up a similar chart. “Checked and double-checked. Such a variation in the chronometric anomaly would be inconsistent with the cosmic flux of the quantum variance,” replied Sammy Jo as Donna nodded in agreement.

Al’s mouth fell open. “Huh? What? Can you give it to me in at least something I can understand? Maybe like Italian?” Al asked sarcastically.

Sammy Jo smiled slyly and replied, “Sure. Tale variazione nell'anomaly di chronometric sarebbe inconsistente col flusso cosmico della variazione di quantum. I apologize if my Italian is a bit rusty.”

Al now dropped his cigar. “That didn’t help at all! And where did you learn my native lingo?”

“Backpacking through Europe during my college years. I just picked it up spending a few weeks in Tuscany ,” Sammy Jo replied. “La campagna più bella!”

Al relit his stogie looking a bit impressed. “Not bad, though I already feel a bit inadequate around all you Mensa Society types. Now tell me in high school physics understandable by a retired stick jockey. What the HELL are you talking about?”

Donna started to help calm the Admiral down. “Sammy Jo has a theory about this door that has opened through hyperspace. It’s not a natural phenomenon. It has manmade properties.”

“So the kid was sent here on purpose?” asked Al as a pleasant warm red glow appeared on the end of his cigar. “Was it one of our competitors or worse one of our adversaries?”

Sammy Jo tapped the computer screen and shook her head. “Even simpler. WE caused it!” exclaimed Sammy Jo. “Those particle emissions have the same signature as Sam’s leaps across the cosmos. The pattern is so distinctive that we use it as one of fifty-seven methods to track Sam leaping from place to place.”

Al just stared at the two of them with a blank expression.

Donna tired another approach. “Sam is in constant contact with PQL in the present. That’s how your brainwaves and his brainwaves communicate with each other. The signature of your communications link with Sam is the same as the chronotron output of that hole that opened up in the complex area. The communication link through hyperspace has crossed a Calabi-Yau space anomaly. It has found a section of space-time where more than one dimension exists in the same space.  Are you familiar with M-theory and the superstring theory?”

Al replied, “Well, we have multiple dimensions in all parts of space-time. More than a little of this stuff has rubbed off on this naval aviator.”

Sammy Jo looked impressed. “Right, and we have crossed some kind of space phenomenon. That anomaly has followed our communication link back to us opening up a temporary vortex. This vortex is anchored where Sam is and follows our link back towards us. It never really reaches this time-space unless something travels down the tunnel. In physics strings are packets of one-dimensional quantum matter that move in only direction, and those string particles are following our data stream right back to Project Quantum Leap.”

Al played with his cigar for a minute trying to digest this information. “So we can’t open it up from here and send the kid back?’

Donna replied with a bit of uncertainty. “Probably not.”

“Then let’s leap him back,” Al said thinking that the solution should have been obvious to everyone since it had been used before.

“To whom, Al?” asked Donna. “We have two completely different concepts of time travel here. Sam has to finish his leap following the normal rules or he’s stuck there. We don’t have the power requirements at PQL to handle two leapers.”

Sammy Jo added, “We really need to get him back through the portal or somehow time travel him back to when he belongs!”

Al looked first at Donna and then Sammy Jo. “A task we can certainly accomplish. Can’t we?”

Donna looked very negative. “Al, we’re not in the H.G. Wells time machine business. Leaping is a completely different process then targeted traveling through time. Developing a new system could take years.”

“Years?” asked Al swallowing hard.

“And we don’t have much time,” said Donna showing Al a page four newspaper article. “Thirtieth anniversary ceremony of the relief of the Siege of Da Nang to be lead by victor and former President and General Westmoreland. Country remembers the 21,000 honored dead.”

“We won the war? President Westmoreland? 21,000 dead?” asked Al as he dropped his cigar.

Sammy Jo pounded the paper and explained, “Oh boy! Lance’s presence here is slowly altering history. He is changing things much more dramatically than Sam does leaping about time. This is a very dangerous business, Al!  His absence must leave a very big hole in history. It’s our fault that he came here and if history doesn’t get back on track, this place might cease to exist and we’ll never be able to repair the hole in time.”

Donna shook her head sadly. “It had started even earlier today. The employees in my lab have changed twice already. The people we originally hired are no longer there. They’ve followed alternate life paths. At first I just chalked it up as the occasional minor changes that Sam causes. That’s not the case. If we lose too many people or if PQL was never started, then Sam will be truly lost in time.” 

“Or worse yet all the good we did will be undone,” said Al quietly. “None of these people we helped will have been saved. Damn!” he said slowly rolling his cigar between two fingers. Al stared out into the distance for several moments contemplating the problem. Finally he asked, “So what do we do?”

“Good question. Donna and I will get with Ziggy and come up with a plan, quickly,” said Sammy Jo as a vibration could be heard throughout the complex giving most of the Quantum Leap staff goosebumps.

“Time must have shifted again,” replied Donna. “Did you feel that?” Donna asked Sammy Jo looking around to see that she was no longer in the room with them. 

“What the hell? Ziggy analyze the changes brought about by that last tremor,” ordered Donna.

“A fourth level temporal occurrence caused by Michael Lancer’s presence in this time period,” replied Ziggy. “His presence in this timeline is slowly erasing and rewriting our reality.” 

Al snapped in, “WE KNOW THAT! Do you know where Doctor Samantha Josephine Fuller Fulton is?”

“Doctor Samantha Josephine Fuller Witherspoon, the former director of computer science at Project Quantum Leap, is now the general manager of the Ventana Nuclear Power Plant near Bovine, California in this timeline,” remarked Ziggy without any showing any emotional loss.

Al slapped the side of his face at the sudden disappearance of their friend and colleague. “Jeez! We have to get this thing fixed and fast! Anything you need Donna is yours. Figure it out fast! Not only do we have to save Sam, we also have to save ourselves!”

“I’ll do my best for all of our sakes!” cried out Donna as she left the lab and headed toward Sammy Jo’s old computer laboratory.

PART FIVE

Sitting in the dark to save his flashlight batteries, Sam broke from his sense dulling stupor when he saw a bright light from the Imaging Chamber door. In walked Admiral Al looking more somber than usual. Sam stood up and brushed off the dust and dirt.

“Anything?” asked Sam very quietly.

“Nothing good, Sam. That kid’s appearance here seems to be our fault or at least the result of your leaping,” said Al looking at his handlink and shaking his head. “Our stellar science department thinks that somehow our joint comm-link crossed a glitch in space-time hyperspace opening the one-way door in front of you.”

“We crossed a Calabi-Yau space opening up a wormhole?” asked Sam as his ears perked up.

“That’s the one!” exclaimed a surprised Al. “I thought I had to explain everything to you?”

Sam looked down smiling. “Well, the fact that you said it’s one-way and that it’s somehow incorporates our own communication technology leads to the conclusion that we must be interacting with hyperspace on a non-Newtonian level. Calabi-Yau space has to be used to process our links between your time and my time.”

“OK, you got me. Ziggy does any of that make sense to you?” Al called up to the ceiling.

Ziggy came back promptly. “Doctor Beckett is touching the very fringes of the Calabi-Yau space theory, Admiral. Utilizing seven curled-up dimensions it is theoretically possible to open up a molecule size wormhole between our two time spheres. If you wish any further explanation I would most happily discuss it with you on any level you please.”

Al looked like he’d eaten a bad hot pepper. “No, that’s quite all right. You guys give me a sour stomach at times. I have a hard enough time understanding Sam’s string theory. Don’t go throwing quantum thingies that have a no U-turn policy at me too. You and I part company in physics with anything more complicated than the dynamics of flight classes I took back in my academy days. Now as to your situation, you’ll just have to hurry up and wait, Sam. The major problem is that you have fulfilled your mission there, but the kid is still here at PQL and the timeline is fluctuating wildly on a worldwide level.”

“That’s never happened on any of my leaps, has it?” asked Sam unsure of his own history.

Al spread out his hand shaking it. “Cum si, cum sa. We have changed some things, but not usually the events they teach in elementary school. Somehow the removal of that kid from his timeline is affecting major events and soon we could all be history,” explained Al. “Poof. No more us. Nada. Goodbye Quantum Leap. Eighty-six coming home. Over and out!”

“And that doorway home?” asked Sam hopefully.

“Just isn’t in the cards, kid. Not with another innocent person in the Waiting Room wishing he could go home,” said Al quietly. He shifted from foot to foot wishing he had a better answer for their time traveling Don Quixote.

“Like me?” asked Sam pointing to himself.

Al nodded his head. “Affirmative. Jump through that hole and we’ll have another missing person in these ever changing time streams, Sam.”

“I know, but it’s very tempting,” replied Sam as he stared toward the brightly colored wormhole.

Al replied remembering other times and other leaps, “Well, we have succumbed to temptation on your merry little jaunts through the cosmos, but this one is ripping up the whole fabric of the space-time constituent,” replied Al.

“Continuum. That’s the space-time continuum,” Sam said correcting Al.

Al was about to say something then thought better of himself. “Right! Well, just sit tight and we’ll keep letting you know when we’re ready for whatever it is we’re going to do. Wish us luck!” said Al who made a hasty retreat.

“Luck!” waved Sam as Al went back through the door and back to his dwindling staff.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Donna was flipping through graph after graph on her desktop computer. Some graphs were moving patterns and others were regular curves showing dozens of parameters plotted in hundreds of different ways. All these years at Quantum Leap problems usually made sense. Sam had so well defined quantum leaping that between Ziggy, Sammy Jo and herself they could solve any problem that came across her desk, but this was a convoluted portion of the leaping process mixed in with an unknown natural phenomenon. Ziggy had plenty of theories, but nothing that could be verified without weeks of simulations and testing, and Sammy Jo wasn’t there anymore. She had followed some other life path that led her to the California Power Authority far from her home and family in Stallion’s Gate, New Mexico.

“God, I miss my best friend,” mused Donna. She put her head down and ran her fingers through her long dark hair.

Even though Sammy Jo was in reality her husband’s daughter, through the miracle of time travel she was near Donna’s own age, own intellectual level and her closest confidant since Sam had left her on his infinite journey. Now, Donna had to figure this mess out with a staff that kept changing in a world that was like an old flip card cartoon shifting page by page. She could find herself at any moment teaching physics at some university or working on nuclear propulsion at NASA.

“Damn! What is the answer?” she thought endlessly flipping through the charts on her monitor while beginning to hit the ‘enter’ key on her keyboard too hard.

“Zip! Zap!” Her keyboard sparked and then went dead. A notice appeared on the screen that no keyboard was connected. Donna took two long slow breaths almost hyperventilating and then struck the flat screen monitor as it tumbled over backwards off her computer desk.

“Doctor? Something wrong?” asked another colleague in her computer lab.

“Just frustrated, Shawn,” she said apoplectically. “Did you find anything?”

“No, doctor,” he said coldly. “And please remember, that my name is Don.”

Donna looked up to the ceiling. “Of course. I’m sorry. I guess this stress is Swissing my own memory. Anything on the university library searches?”

Her colleague replied, “No, Doctor. There may be something in the classified industrial files under the defense studies programs. I’m working on the clearances now.”

“Sure. Thanks,” she said just pitching back in her chair trying to brainstorm the problem.

“Particles. Particles. Particles. Only emitted on exiting and during the constant connection between Sam and Al’s brains propagated across hyperspace. We’ve never figured how to send matter from one point to another here. How did they do it? Zenon particles send messages, not open up time portals. Or is it a wormhole? We can generate a small amount of those particles here, but just enough to contact Sam, and if we produce too many we’ll lose contact with him,” she thought as the possibilities swirled through her tired and confused brain.

“What is our nominal output of zenon particles, Don?” asked Donna.

“1.21 giga-curies and the name is Arnold, Doctor,” he said patiently as if she had never gotten his name wrong before.

“The level from the vortex is much higher. They just don’t occur naturally. But we’ve sent them across space for years and nothing like this has ever happened before. Why now? How do we reverse the laws of physics and the laws that govern Calabi-Yau space? They only go one direction. If we could only collect these particles. Collect them and use them when we wanted. But who knows when we’d need them and at that level need to build a massive accelerator out there in the parking lot for the PQL reception center?” mused Donna strumming her fingers on her immaculate desk.

“When will the Texas Mega-accelerator be completed, Arnold ?” asked Donna.

“It won’t be competed for three years, doctor and my name is Winston. Winston Salinger,” her colleague snapped. “I would appreciate that much courtesy!”

Donna found the attitude of her current employee very unsettling. She turned to leave and said, “Thanks. I need some air. I’ll be down in the Infirmary.”

Donna paced back and forth in the little office the Chief Medical Officer Beth Calavicci who was no longer retired in the current reality. “Beth, this is maddening. I can’t take it! We’re going through one wrinkle in time after another. Nothing is at it seems. Reality keeps changing. How am I expected to perform a miracle when the rules keep changing every minute?”

“We have to keep on going for Sam’s sake. Lord knows I’ve had to put up a lot with Albert over the years,” she sighed picking up her latte and soothing herself with a generous sip.

“Yes, but you still love him no matter how much ego or eccentricity he has!” replied Donna. “Sam isn’t here to help us out and soon I may have no one to commiserate with.”

“I know, but when Al gets that little lost boy look I just want to hug him until he feels safe,” she said looking off into the far away distance.

“Well, it does feel wonderful to be needed. I sure could use Sam right now myself. Especially the way he looks at me with those loving eyes. I feel just like a giddy schoolgirl.  Al has a different look that usually means even better things to come between the two of you,” said Donna wishing that Sam’s journeys would end and they could be together. Someday.

“Yes, he does have a way with women that does make up for so much,” said Beth even more lovingly.

Donna turned to the wall closing her eyes and clinching her jaw. “Yes, but I must go on and I must find a way!!”

She turned around and saw a middle-aged doctor who looked like he should be on E/R rather than in an underfunded secret government science project. On his desk was the nameplate, Doctor Clayton Forrester.

Doctor Forrester looked up. “Doctor Eleese. Is something wrong?” he asked looking puzzled. “Excuse me, but I didn’t hear you come in.”

Donna’s face froze in fear. “Excuse me. Do you know where Elizabeth Calavicci is?” she asked looking around the room for anything familiar.

He put down his pen and folded his hands. “I’m new here, but isn’t she the Admiral’s ex-wife? She divorced him about 10 years ago. I believe he’s currently in residence with Ms. Martinez-O’Farrell.”

Donna twitched as her mind started to race. “Tina? Al’s taken up with Tina? We’ve got to get this random time-shifting nightmare fixed!” she said quietly.

“You look flushed. Can I help you, Doctor Eleese?” asked the new doctor.

Random solutions kept going through her head for the millionth time as she looked around the room and her eyes finally rested on the ornate wooden mirror. In the mirror she saw the reflection of the new doctor.

“Um, that mirror. Is it new?” she asked looking at it closely.

“No. Nothing special. I found it in a flea market years ago. It doesn’t really get much use,” he lied while running his hand over his hair for the fourth time in two minutes. 

Donna thought for a moment as a light went off over head, gave him a grossly inadequate farewell and ran back to her own computer lab.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the main project conference room, Donna was huddled conferring with the Admiral. “Al, somehow those particles are triggering a wormhole, not a rift in time. We can’t move anything here because there is no opening. But if we can get the rift reopened and shoot some even higher-powered zenon particles back through it, we might be able to reverse the configuration change creating a large enough pathway to send Lance back,” explained a very excited Donna Beckett. To her the concept had been so simple that she had completely missed the idea until connecting it with the EM properties of a simple light-reflecting mirror.

“Say what?” asked Al giving Donna a blank stare.

Donna started to draw on the large white board. “Think of it this way. To reverse the course of a creek, you need to throw a stream of water at it with a higher pressure. Force the water back to where it came from.”

Al looked at the board and then shrugged his shoulders. “OK. But doesn’t that leave an even greater pressure up stream when you shut off the juice?”

“Once we shut off the juice or the particles, the vortex should seal itself up. Then Sam should leap and we can forget about that time altering vortex. First we need to figure out how to reverse the zenon particle beam, concentrate it and increase their electron voltage. We already generate them here at the project, so controlling them should be easy. Increasing the juice will be the tricky part. I’ll get to it quickly with whatever brainpower we have left here at the project,” explained Donna rolling her eyes.

“Whatever you need, Donna. Strip the whole damn complex if necessary. Use any personnel you need. Overtime is no problem,” said Al playing nervously with his cigar.

Donna appreciated his confidence and then wondered why he was so nervous. She asked, “How’s Beth?”

He looked up startled. “Beth? Oh, she is fine. Still living out in Colorado with Jacqueline and her family. Just couldn’t take the long hours I had. Damn, she was one good woman!” he said now looking even worse.

Donna put her hand on his shaking shoulder. “Maybe, it just wasn’t meant to be. Or maybe it can be changed somehow.”

Al stuck his hands deep into his pockets and walked away slowly. “Yea, but it was great while it lasted. Keep me informed. I’ll be at Tina’s.”

“Absolutely,” she replied heading for her lab. Passing by the guard station she saw him watching a special report on some cable news channel.

“Damn, those terrorists. They just took out the Capitol and the White House! We otta nuke those guys!” the very angry guard said throwing his sandwich at the television. The television showed pictures of crumpled buildings, injured bystanders and heroic fireman battling a blaze engulfing the White House.

Donna picked up her pace for the changes in history were plummeting out of control.

PART SIX

Deep in the cave Sam waited and waited. The darkness was mind numbing, dulling his senses and causing the loss of perception of time, shapes and reality. The coolness and dampness of the underground air, the lack of light and the incessant crackling of the interdimensional gateway numbed his reality. Sam knew that things were changing. He could hear the calls of new events, new lines of interactivity and worse; the calls of new people creating a different future, one that might not have a place for him. Or for the Quantum Leap facility.

Momentarily there was a bright light. Then darkness. Finally a red glowing featureless shape appeared before him. Sam put up his hand squinting into the bright neon red and purple suit worn by Al Calavicci.

“Hey, Sam. We may have solution here,” he said sounding excited. “So don’t be discouraged. We just have to reverse the flow of this here big thing and cut through the intercosmic whatzit! Calabi-Yau space, I guess you called it.”

“Al, that suit there is blinding!” Sam said hoarsely since the dampness was getting into his throat.

“This thing? Well, Tina goes nuts for these self-illuminating outfits. You should see me in this multi-colored Hawaiian ensemble,” he said proudly. He felt his tastes in clothing had reached their pinnacle very recently.

“Fine. Now what about reversing the flow of time? That’s like trying to change the progression of time in the whole universe,” said Sam suddenly standing up. “We can’t do that. Not even with the full power generation capability of the entire planet.”

“Well, our science department,” Al said not trying to tell him that it was really his wife’s idea, “believes that if we reverse the local flow in a concentrated beam and aim it right down the center of the wormhole, she can do it. That whole process, as they explained it to me, was compared to using drain cleaner on the whole universe. You know, hit the clog, get the flow started and then the rest of the clogged mess will follow it down the drain.”

Sam put up his hand. “Hold it! If you get something like that started, it could turn into a massive black hole and this part of the universe might break into cosmic pieces and follow the beam down the hole. It would be like a sinkhole in the fabric of space-time. Even if it didn’t remain stable for that period of time, it could still be disastrous for the project or the earth or any other larger piece of our galaxy. I don’t even want to think of the ramifications for the universe at large, Al.”

Al could feel his confidence in the solution disappear like the glow from last night’s sexcapades. “Thank you for that doomsday prophecy. We’re going to monitor it very closely to the eighth decimal point and close up the hole very quickly. We can shut off the drain cleaner in less than a fraction of a second. That will should completely shut down the hole and disconnect your place and time from ours. But not before we send home Lance who’s still sitting in our Waiting Room.”

Sam agreed. “Wish I could use it to go home, but that’s going to have to wait in our own quantum leaping time. But how are you going to open a hole whose opposite end could be anywhere right now?” asked Sam with his brain that was also full of more holes than a hungry dog’s nightmare.

Al looked down at his handlink and then had his face light up. “Ah, a good point, Doctor Braintrust. You are going to have to heave another pop fly through that portal. Hole. Vortex.”

“Wormhole!” Sam reminded him. 

“WHATEVER! We’ll be ready for you on the other side in about eight hours. And THEN we’ll get you moved on, Sam. I won’t sleep a wink until then. Not that I ever have time to get some sleep with Tina around,” he said.

“Don’t you have another significant other?” asked Sam scratching his head.

“You find me with the most significant of others and there have been many. Some more significant than others, but the best little lady is always the one I am with now,” he said looking very pleased with himself. 

“Well, good luck. I always appreciate what you’re doing. Tell the guys back there I appreciate them, too,” said Sam.

Al looked up toward the heavenly time travel specialist. “Whoever they are right now! Sure,” he said thinking about all the myriad of changes. “We have to stop this before Jerry Lewis becomes president. I’ll check back with you shortly. Bye, Sam,” he said popping back through the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On a crystal clear desert night Al and Donna stood at a makeshift computer station in front of a large collection of Rube Goldberg equipment and circuitry laid out over the complex courtyard. Little of the system was automatic since most of the PQL staff was watching gauges, manually adjusting makeshift equipment, watching the electrical and communication connections on the surface or running cables from the underground facility. Twenty feet above Al and Donna was a large metallic horseshoe shaped contraption designed to attract the zenon particles, give them an energy boost and send them back where they had come from. The staff was tired after a frantic five hours of assembling of equipment stripped from a dozen different PQL labs and then three hours of system testing and simulations under the tutorage of the self-proclaimed omnipotent Ziggy.

Ziggy reported to them over Al’s ever-present handlink. “Efficiency of the last simulation was only up point four percent, Doctor Eleese. We must obtain at least a ninety-two percent level for a forty-eight percent probability of success at a ninety-nine percent confidence level.”

Donna sighed deeply. “That is not possible, Ziggy. These jury-rigged circuits aren’t going to last much longer and those clouds in the west mean that rain could be coming soon. Those electronic panels that John Beltran is monitoring are already smoking and sparking. The rain could ruin everything and we could loose our leap tracking capability for months.”

Al suddenly broke in. “We can’t risk waiting any longer. Besides these people are near their breaking point, Ziggy. You are one hard taskmaster!”

Ziggy retorted, “Only to the point of optimum efficiency. Humans are very inefficient machines.”

“That’s only part of the difference between us. Enough simulation, Ziggy. Please, let’s power up our systems up and go for it,” pleaded Donna.

Ziggy said sounding peeved, “Very well, Doctor. If you insist!”

“Great. Al. Go to Sam and let’s get this kid home!” suggested Donna as she started to flip the necessary switches to prepare the final countdown.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the nearly empty Control Room Al and St. John , the chief programmer, fired up the Imaging Chamber and Al stepped into Sam’s dark world.

“Good luck, Admiral,” called out St. John . “May you be successful, my friend.”

“Yea, for all of us,” said Al as the Imaging Chamber door snapped close behind him.

Inside the dark cavern Al called out for Sam. He could see nothing as his eyes needed to adjust to the darkness of the cave.

“Sam! Sam!” cried out Al.

Sam was sitting on the ground rocking back and forth while ignoring him.

Al called to him again. “Sam. Come on, old buddy!” The Admiral tried to shake him, but his holographic hand passed through Sam’s shoulder.

Sam rocked and rocked until he shivered. He finally responded to the project observer.

“Huh? What??” asked Sam dully. His voice sounded very low and dry.

Al waved to his friend. “Sam, we need your help.”

“Huh? What? Uh, sure! Al? What?” he said still rocking back and forth.

Al slowed down his delivery. “We need you to throw another rock through the crazy doorway. We’re ready back here to get Lance back to your time.”

“Doorway?” Sam asked sounding more Swiss-cheesed than his usual time-traveling state.

Al started to panic. “Sam! That one-way wormhole. Wrinkle in time or whatever. You’ve got to help us! This terrorist scenario we’re experiencing has us heading for another world war. Full military conscription. Maximum deployment. Nuclear blackmail. World-wide chaos!”

“Portal?” Sam said thinking while running the word over and over in his mind. “The vortex! Oh right. You need me to help reopen it so... That’s right. Sorry,” pleaded Sam.  “This sensory deprivation is tough to lick.”

“Numbs the word. Sorry, I couldn’t stay and keep up a conversation. We needed all the people we could up topside. Now, Ziggy wants at least a two-kilo rock going through the hole,” explained Al. “That’s about five pounds.”

Sam nodded. “OK, how about this one?” Sam asked pointing to a large rock.

“No, not one. The other one. There,” said Al pointing to the extra gray one.

Sam picked it up judging the weight. It seemed heavier, but Sam wasn’t going to delay the liftoff. “OK. Let’s see if I can put this thing on the twenty year line.” Sam tossed it into the hole; it bounced off the right wall, flew back out and landed back at his feet.

Al looked nervously at his handlink. “Two feet to the right, Dan Marino!”

Sam couldn’t disagree. “Another try! Off it goes,” he said grunting as the rock sailed down the middle of the tunnel and disappeared in a flash of static electricity.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Back in the dark desert air an announcement was made by Ziggy. “The Admiral reports projectile receipt is imminent.”

“Stand by,” reported Donna as the air filled with tension and the breeze from the pending rainstorm. The wind increased as all eyes focused on the spot ten feet above the desert floor.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Breathing became difficult as people gripped their instruments waiting for SOMETHING to happen.

Nothing did happen. Just the sound of the wind and of a coyote in the distance calling for his mate.

Doris Martinez finally called out, “A pressure disturbance. Increasing to 20.7 p.s.i.”

“Chronton particles. And a mass of zenon particles, Doctor Eleese,” called out Daniel Dolton. “Just a trace.  Yowzers! That just increased by 2000 percent, Doctor.”

A localized storm cloud appeared in front of them just above the temporary scaffolding set up at the previous exit of the temporal vortex.

“Power to maximum,” called out Donna. “We have some zenon particles. Move the ladder into place. Lance stand by!”

The metallic horseshoe arrangement glowed as the air around it crackled with static charges. The support structure rattled while a small concentrated beam of light exited the rattling horseshoe.

“Adjust the collector three degrees to the right and one degree in elevation,” called out Donna adjusting the azimuth and elevation of the beam.

The tiny bright stream began to grow and glow brightly. It entered the very center of the cloudy disturbance. 

Donna began to grin, “We have a significant reversal. Beam intensity has increased over two hundred percent.”

Martinez called out again. “Roger. Flow constant. The vortex is partially stabilizing.

Donna glanced at her makeshift monitors. “Affirmative. This is great! Reverse flow is now matching the output and increasing.”

“Output of the collector is exceeding the input. Pressure around the vortex is reversing. Dust and atmosphere is being sucked into the vortex. It’s working, Doctor!” exclaimed a surprised Doctor Martinez.

Donna looked ecstatic. “Lance. Climb up the ladder and jump into the hole. That’s your ride home. Good luck, son!”

Lance stood at the base of the scaffolding that rattled in the reverse wind of twenty-miles an hour. From his perspective he was looking into the top of a tornado. Swallowing hard he ascended the ladder looking at the anxious people around him. At the top of the scaffolding a harsh dry wind pulled him toward the vortex. He held on tightly with one hand giving a quick wave to the PQL personnel with the other.

“Catch you later, dudes,” he called out, but couldn’t be heard over the roar.

Lance let go of the scaffolding and vanished down the throat of the big hole in the sky. The wind increased as more dust and debris was pulled into the vortex.

The vortex shape changed and shrank after Donna ordered all power shut down. The hole decreased in size, sputtered and then disappeared from view as the stars reappeared behind it.

Donna looked up and wished him ‘God Speed’ while checking in with Al on the situation back in Wyoming .

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Standing next to the leap-created portal Sam was being blasted by the warm desert heat and a great amount of sand and dust. An eerie red glow from the portal lit up the grotto where Sam stood. Al stood next to him as Sam shielded his eyes while looking deep into the bright light that marked the exit of the vortex.

“Your buddy’s on his way,” said an exuberant Al busily checking off data from Ziggy. 

Sam took a step toward the vortex when a dark shape appeared and then shot straight at Sam knocking them both to the floor.

As Sam helped Lance up the warm air quietly sputtered to a stop and the vortex reverted to the white electrically charged light they had first found. The feeling of the cold air returned to Sam as he once again shivered.

“You OK?” asked Sam to the slightly dazed youngster.

“I think so, dude. My senses feel like they’re short-circuited. Like I’m high,” he said shaking his head and rubbing his temple.

“It’ll pass. You passed through places where normal physics don’t apply. Your brain can’t always deal with that,” explained Sam as he helped Lance to his feet.

“Wow. That was a wild ride. I am feeling a bit better, dude. Man, I felt like I was strung out like a piece of taffy! That tornado was getting awful thin. Glad that trip to Weirdsville is over! And you’re that Doctor Buckett dude? Even though you look like my bro?” he asked sounding impressed for the first time.

“Yep. Here to help you and anyone else I come across. Anywhere they send me and you’ve been where I’d like to be. I envy you,” said Sam shaking his head.

Lance’s face lit up. “Me? You envy me? Cool. Just hop on board, Easy Rider!” he said pointing to the vortex.

“It’s not that easy,” said Sam. “I’ll be leaving another way.”

“Very soon,” interjected Al looking over his multi-color multi-functional handlink.

“Right!” he said turning back to Lance. “And you’re going to have to help the real Sammy back out of the cave and explain how you were lost in it for the last couple of days,” said Sam. “Your friend is going to be very confused.”

“Like I’m not! I saw what it did to him back in that great blue room and that nice lady doctor explained that I couldn’t tell anyone about this. Well, unless I want to end up in the rehabilitation clinic in Denver , I better stick to the ‘being lost’ story,” he said.

“That’s probably best,” agreed Sam. “Good luck to you and your friend.”

“Same to you, Doctor Sam Dude!” he replied giving him a very quick hug.

“Great,” said Sam with a big Beckett grin on his face. “What about our shortcut across Calabi-Yau space?”

Al sighed. “It’s already collapsed back at the project. Hey, between you me and the kid does that make us the The Three Calabi-Yau-ers  ...er. Caballeros?” mused Al.

Sam looked confused. “What?”

“Never mind! Just playing with my own memory, since at least I have one! You MEAN that temporal sinkhole! Ziggy says that once you leap and we shutdown our neurological link, the vortex will collapse here in 1970. Hopefully we’ll never mess up any of that Caballero-Yuie space again! Don’t forget to have Indiana Jones there to show the local authorities the ceremonial mound,” Al quickly reminded Sam.

“And I won’t forget about Tonto there,” squeaked in Lance pointing back down the tunnel at the ancient Indian remains.

Al looked surprised. “Are you SURE he can’t hear me?  OK Sam. Chrontonic particles are now increasing and you should leap. See ya Sam,” waved Al as the troublesome vortex began to collapse.  

Sam looked up and then disappeared into a billion quantum particles. He flew once again among the cosmos toward his next leaping appointment somewhere across the vastness of time and infinity.