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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
April
8, 2008
Project
Quantum Leap
Stallion’s
Gate, NM
Al
had bought himself a little time.
Not enough though. He’d
been able to convince Admiral Beckett that the airstrip at the Project
was down for maintenance and that he would need to fly into
Las Cruces
. He had, of course,
assured that a limousine was waiting to bring him to Stallion’s
Gate.
The
limo had arrived ten minutes before and now Al was waiting for Admiral
Thomas Beckett, USN to arrive into the heart of Project Quantum Leap.
He didn’t expect the meeting would be pleasant, but then it
never was with that nozzle. Al
shook his head. In all of
his years of friendship with Sam, he and Tom had never gotten along
and after Sam leapt what little tolerance that was present had turned
into visceral animosity. At
this point, they were barely civil to each other; affording the other
the respect due the uniform since the other man wearing it, in each of
their respective opinions, did not deserve the respect themselves.
Al was wearing that uniform today, full dress whites, ribbons
and medals evident.
Al
had reserved the conference room.
He’d asked Ziggy to inform him when Admiral Beckett arrived
at the room, giving the excuse that he couldn’t be waiting there due
to the chance that Sam might leap and Al would be needed in the
Imaging Chamber. It was a
lie and everyone involved knew it.
As long as Al was within the complex, he’d always be
available to fulfill his primary duty as the Hologram Observer that
connected the Project’s creator and head to his own time.
However, if it meant that Admiral Beckett would have to cool
his heels waiting for him, Al felt the lie was worth it.
“Admiral
Calavicci, Admiral Beckett has arrived at the conference room and is
requesting that you meet with him.”
“Were
those his exact words, Ziggy?”
“No.
His exact words were “Where the hell is Calavicci?
Get his ass in here now.”
Al
huffed. Same
Tom Beckett. But then
again, why would I expect anything else?
He made his way to the conference room.
When he walked in, he wasn’t surprised to see Tom dressed in
a similar manner. This was
going to be a showdown. They
were like two gunfighters, taking their place on opposite ends of the
street, waiting to see which of them would prevail.
Only in this case, the street was a conference table.
Had this been a typical conference room, there would have been
a head position at a rectangular table.
But Sam had never wanted the room to have that kind of
ambiance. Like the
chivalrous King Arthur, Sam had assured that all conference rooms had
round tables. Nobody would
be able to claim the “power position.”
At least not at the table.
They
did, however, both plan to sit on opposite sides of the diameter with
the furthest distance between them as possible.
The fact that neither would sit first was the only thing that
kept them from taking a position at the table.
Tom
spoke first. “Thank you
for joining me, Admiral. How
is Sam?”
“He
just finished a leap three days ago.
We’re expecting him to leap any time now.”
“Ah.
I guess this affords you some time for general maintenance.”
“You
know we take the opportunity whenever we can.”
A
dismissive grunt escaped Tom’s throat.
“Yeah...I would hope so.
You play around so much I didn’t think you ever got things
like that done. I shudder
to think what might happen to my brother if the equipment failed at
the wrong time. Parallel
Hybrid Computer, Particle Accelerator, the Control Room, and an
Imaging Chamber among other things.
That’s a lot to maintain.”
Al
glared back at Tom. “I
think there’s more to it than that, Admiral.
I don’t play where your brother’s concerned.
Sam would be dead now without me covering his ass!”
“The
same could be said for your career, Calavicci.
It certainly would have been dead without my brother.
All your honor and integrity was at the bottom of a bottle.
I've heard the stories at the Pentagon.
I remember the sorry drunkard that Sam put his neck out for.”
Al
stiffened at the memory of that time in his life.
“I never asked him to do that, but I’ll be forever grateful
that he chose to. And
I’ll always be there for him, unlike you.”
Tom
turned Al’s words against him. “Well, if you hadn’t kept me from
him, maybe Sam wouldn't have gone through with this cockamamie
project. Leaping through
time! Only my brother
could figure something like this out!
He never could stop himself from going after his dreams, no
matter that they could sometimes hurt him.
And you let him do
it...you could have stopped him. You
should have found some way to keep the accelerator from going online.
Snip the budget here; make sure the right parts weren't
expedited there. I know
you know your way around a DoD contract!”
Now
it was Al’s dismissive grunt that was heard.
“Oh, right. I forgot. You'd just destroy your brother’s
dream simply because you don't want him leaping; doing what comes
naturally to him, which is helping people. Kill the dream, Admiral,
and you kill the man. Is that really what you want for your brother?
For him to be miserable?”
Tom
voice took on a harsher tone. “If
he’d had more time, he would have fixed the retrieval program.
Then he would be able to leap and not have been trapped for
thirteen years. It was
your job to give him that time.”
Tom sneered. “But
instead...you were out on the town.
What went through your mind, Al, when they called you and told
you he was leaping? Did
you realize then that you'd made a mistake?”
Al
voice was low and calm but held the power of a coiled snake.
“Sam had all the time in the world. He just didn't see it. I
can't change Sam's personality. He's the one who jumped the gun. He
assured me that all he was going to do was work on the retrieval
program. I didn't make a mistake, Admiral. The Contracting Officer did
when he contacted Sam that night.”
Tom
threw that bone to Al. “Well,
there's something we do agree on.”
He immediately went back into attack mode.
“But don't try to change the subject.
You could have made it impossible for him to leap at that
moment. I know my brother.
Sometimes you have to think ahead of him...figure out how to
prevent him from doing something that he hasn’t fully thought
through before it hurts him. Prematurely
leaping certainly did that.”
“I'm
not a two steps forward, one step back kind of person. I don't
purposefully hinder someone out of fear that something might - and I
emphasize might - happen. I also apparently trust Sam a hell of a lot more
than you do, and that's sad, Admiral.”
Al shook his head. “Sam
can't even rely on his own brother.”
Pure
hatred resonated from Tom. “You
know nothing of Sam’s and my relationship, Calavicci.
You have no idea of
what I would do to help my brother.
He can rely on me.”
Al
finally spoke the truth he’d wanted to tell Tom ever since the older
Beckett had started to show an active dislike for him.
After he and Al had met and become friends, Sam had talked at
length about how things were between him and Tom.
While he loved his brother deeply, he also wished Tom would
understand that he had grown up. He
loved being Tom’s Little Brother but hated that it sometimes meant
that Tom would try to handle things the way he had when they were
kids. The meaning of
Sam’s words resonated over time and now Al stated, “I know more
about your relationship than you can possible understand, Admiral.
Trust me; I know the signs of an overprotective monstrosity.”
Suddenly,
Tom had had enough. He’d
tried to get this man to understand where his next actions were coming
from. The man was too
stubborn to see his own mistakes.
“Well, perhaps we should get right to it then, Admiral.
On Sam’s last leap, you stole a classified document that you
had been given strict instructions by Homeland Security not to access.
Then you showed it to Sam even when you knew they were not to
be divulged to my brother.”
“He
needed that information to complete his mission,” Al stated firmly.
“Then
you should have found another way to complete it.”
Tom pulled the papers he had brought with him out of his
briefcase. Handing a copy
to the other man he went on, “You will be charged with stealing
classified documents and for allowing those documents to be seen by
unauthorized personnel.”
“There
wasn't another way. And don't give me any crap about there is always
another way.” Al
suddenly realized what he was reading.
“You're going to remove me from the project for helping your
brother?”
“Not
me, Admiral, Homeland Security. You
brought this on yourself, Calavicci.
Sam had been specifically banned from seeing this
documentation. Did you
think you’d get away with that?”
Al
was incredulous. “Tom.
It was an incorrectly classified document.
It’s a glitch. I’ve
already asked Julianna to investigate this when she gets back.”
“What
are you doing, Al? Trying
to hide behind your daughter’s skirts again?”
Al
stepped forward, barely holding his temper.
He just wanted to knock this jackass into the next century!
Tom
went on, “Even if Julianna finds that the classification is wrong,
it won’t change anything. The
documents are at present classified and you showed them to Sam.
Do you deny it?”
Through
clenched teeth Al said he wouldn’t deny the truth, but went on,
stating, “This is a technicality, Tom, and you know it!”
“Come
on, Calavicci, you know the regulations as well as I do.
As much as I hate to say this, my brother's life is not above
the sworn oath we have taken to follow the laws of this country.
You will be removed
from the project. You will be charged. But when
you will be allowed to answer to those charges is open to
interpretation of the Homeland Security regulations.”
Al
looked back at the paperwork. “How
the hell can they call me a traitor?
Tom, that contract had been fraudulently targeted to a software
company in violation of the Federal Acquisition Regulation
requirements for competitive bid.
If anything, I’ve prevented a crime here!”
Tom
dismissed him summarily, “Don’t try to weasel out of this,
Calavicci. You know that
you don’t have a leg to stand on.
If you were willing to steal classified documents this time,
what’s to prevent you from doing it again and providing information
crucial to national security?”
Al
was floored by the accusation. “You
know the only reason I’d do that is if Sam needed information for
his survival. He’d never
reveal anything. The man
is a certified flag, Mom, and apple pie patriot.
You know that. You
grew up with him.”
Tom
raised his eyebrows pointedly. “Is
that why he provided complete and accurate information concerning this
project during his leap as Max Stoddard?”
“He
couldn't prevent that! They drugged him! Hell, those bastards could
have made him do the chicken dance with how much sodium pentothal they
gave him!”
Tom
calmly stated. “That is
the point of Homeland Security. If
someone could do that to my brother once, they could do it again.
I know that Sam would never consciously turn against the
country, but there are people who would not hesitate to use sodium
pentothal on him again.” Tom
stopped for a moment, curious to ascertain how a man who had reached
the same rank as his own could make these statements.
“When did my brother become more important to you than the
laws of this country, to the oath you took when you chose to follow a
military career?”
Al
stated plainly. “He
isn't more important. He's just as important. What would you have had
me do? Kept my mouth shut? It
wasn’t until we started working with the contract that the true
nature of his mission became clear.
Without it, he might have actually been murdered!
We thought it was a random crime when really; someone was
targeting
Maria
Torres. Is that what you
would have wanted? To have
me watch him die?”
Tom
stated the obvious. “You've
done that before, Admiral. Seen
good soldiers die because that is the mission of the greater good.
But I think you took the easy way.
Instead of finding another way, you gave him the very
information that you were instructed not to.”
“There
was no other way, Admiral. None. Now you tell me you'd just stand
there and watch your brother die for... a contract that was fraudulent
to begin with.”
“Al,
it’s a moot point. The
contract issue just indicates how much of a loose cannon you really
are. The real point here
is that Sam must be retrieved. Since
you've been unable to do that in the past thirteen years, I'm being
given that duty. I will
retrieve my brother. This
mission will not fail.” Tom
stopped, and then answered Al’s question, “And you ask if I'd
watch him die...No…I would
find another way.”
Al’s
eyes narrowed to slits. “You're
saying I didn't try hard enough. You're
dead wrong, Admiral. I looked at every possibility. And if I obeyed
that order, your brother would likely be dead.”
Tom
figured it was time to end this charade.
“Well, at this point the only result of your decision to leak
such information will be your departure.
I want you out of here by ten hundred hours tomorrow.
Do we understand each other?”
The
kid who won the Golden Gloves all those years ago was evident as Al
stated, “You can't order me out, Admiral. We're the same rank.”
Al’s anger got the best of him as he added, “How you got to
that rank is another one of the great mysteries of the universe.”
Tom
did not rise to the bait. “Except
that I’m still active military and you are retired.
Rank doesn’t matter in this case.
Do you really want to add a trespassing on government property
charge to your list of crimes?
Al
turned cold as ice and the two men stared at each other, both waiting
for the inevitable conclusion. Al
knew he had lost. He
pulled every ounce of his military training to the fore.
“No. Sir. I'm
assuming that I'm allowed to take what belongs to me with me?”
Tom
knew he had won. After all
these years, Albert Calavicci was exactly where he wanted him.
Heading out the door with no possibility of continuing the
farce he had made of the past thirteen years when he’d allowed his
brother to remain trapped in time.
“You will be allowed to take what you would for any standard
TDY. All the rest of your
things will be boxed up by security and sent to whatever address you
wish the items to be forwarded to.”
Al
left the room, his entire body tight as a bow string.
He would rather have laid Thomas Beckett out with a one-two
punch. Only the knowledge
that if he did so, he would be dragged off the Project and most likely
charged with battery kept him from giving into that desire now.
As
he walked back to his quarters to pack what he would be “allowed”
to take (and he was under no illusions that they wouldn’t check his
bags as he left,) a sickening feeling overtook him.
Retrieve Sam at all costs?
What did they think he’d been doing since that night,
thirteen years ago? There
was nothing in heaven or earth that Al wanted more than for his best
friend to stop bouncing around in time.
With this new development, he was afraid that whatever they
would do would kill Sam. That
would truly be a high cost.
Had
there been another way? Was
Tom right? Al shook his
head. No,
dammit! NO!
Sam would likely have died if I hadn’t given him that
information. It was the
only choice. I will not be
party to killing the man who has done so much for so many, politicians
and brass be damned.
A
final thought came to mind, ‘Oh
hell, what’s the Kid going to do now!’
With
that, Al turned into his and Beth’s quarters to let her know they
needed to pack.
PART
ONE
June
8, 2008
Project
Quantum Leap
Stallion’s
Gate, NM
Tom
Beckett was worried. His
brother, Sam, had not leapt for two months.
There were often lapses in the bounces that Sam would undergo. But
two months was a record. He’d had Ziggy running an analysis on the
problem but up to now, she hadn’t been able to suggest a reason,
much less a solution to the problem.
As
soon as he’d taken over as Project Administrator, Tom had pulled the
main team together. He
wasn’t surprised that the Sam’s elite group of scientists had seen
him as the enemy when he had informed them that Al had been removed
from the Project. Al had
been the Project’s Administrator since before most of them had
arrived in this remote location in the middle of the
New Mexico
desert. There was a lot of
history between Calavicci and the personnel sitting at the table.
However, he’d been given a job to do, and, by God, he was
going to get it done. His
brother would be retrieved.
The
team had informed him of the progress they had made.
He was actually impressed by the amount of work that had been
done in the years after Sam had placed himself into the Accelerator
and started on what had to be the strangest journey anyone in the
history of mankind had undertaken.
This understanding, however, angered him even more.
If the retrieval program had been this hosed, why
had his brother chosen to take his “leap of faith?”
Tom questioned the belief that Sam had that others would be
able to follow his thoughts to fix such a complex problem.
Then again, it may be
that assuring that Sam never really failed growing up could be a
factor. He cursed
himself for taking such a tactic when they were children, but it
seemed such a good idea at the time.
Keep things just outside of Sam’s reach until he had the
strength and skills necessary to navigate the problems, and Sam would
figure out a way to succeed. If
he desired it, he found the way to do it.
Maybe Sam had thought that his string theory was further along
than it really was.
But
then again, Calavicci had not helped out any.
Indeed, if he’d made sure that the parts necessary weren’t
available to have the accelerator working while the retrieval program
was still unworkable, Sam would never have been able to pull such a
bone-headed stunt. Yeah, Sam had to be protected from himself, just
like when he was a kid and no one was doing that.
Sam should have brought Tom on as a partner instead of that so
called “best” friend, Albert Calavicci.
Some friend.
Over
the last two months, the team had worked overtime to find a solution.
Still, the elusive retrieval program was not complete.
And without Sam leaping, nothing could be done to test some of
the new theories they had developed.
Why wasn’t Sam leaping?
Tom
decided that while it was unlikely that he’d get an answer in the
affirmative, asking Ziggy for the umpteenth time whether she had
determined anything new couldn’t hurt.
Tom’s
voice held the weariness that he felt.
“Ziggy, has your analysis provided any new insights as to why
Dr. Beckett has not leaped?
The
haughty, honey tones of the computer answered, “Yes, Admiral.
It is serendipitous that you’ve asked.
I’ve just completed my most recent analysis and there is a
98.6% probability that if you leap, Dr. Beckett will become unstuck
from his current unknown location.”
Tom’s
eyes widened as his body took on a surprised stance.
“98.6%?! How did
you come up with that? Me
leap! That makes no sense.
Having two persons stuck in time doesn’t sound reasonable!”
The
computer sounded bored and if there were hands involved, Tom was
certain she’d be filing her fingernails as she continued, “You
asked me if I had any new insights.
I can not help it if you do not have the scientific expertise
to understand that my determination of probabilities utilizes the
computing parameters derived from the hybrid parallel and quantum
computing paradigm. While
the late, but great Admiral Calavicci did not always appreciate my
rather extensive abilities, he never questioned how my statistical
processes were implemented. I
suggest that, in the words of that great songwriter, Don Henley, you
“Get Over It.”
Tom
pinched the bridge of his nose. It
was bad enough having to deal with the human scientists who questioned
his qualifications as Project Administrator.
Having a computer with an ego the size of Everest—why
did Sam think it necessary to give it a personality…Streisand’s no
less!—made this situation almost intolerable.
And now, since Al Calavicci had died in that car accident the
week before, Ziggy had decided to make him a martyr.
Tom was beginning to wonder if his brother was insane after all
and this entire project was a playground for lunatics.
“Okay, Ziggy.
Thank you for your insightful analysis.
I believe, however, you may have missed something if your
suggestion is that I should leap.”
“I
can understand why you might be scared to take such a step.
Although, the late but great Admiral Calavicci had no such
qualms. He
was not afraid of stepping into the unknown whenever it was in my
Father’s best interest to do so.”
Tom
spoke with utmost patience. “Ziggy,
if Sam is your Father, then I am your Uncle.”
“Well,
at this point, I’d say that you must have come from the shallow end
of the family gene pool. You
obviously are not smart enough to understand that you need to leap to
allow your brother to become unstuck and you do not possess the
courage to do so if indeed an inkling of the concept was able to seep
through your overly thickened skull.”
“Great,
now I’m being insulted by a computer!”
Tom was seething, but held his temper.
“Okay, you bucket of bolts…”
“You
will not refer to me with the affectionate terminology used by the
late, but great Al Cala….”
Tom
lost it. “That’s it,
Ziggy. You refer to him
that way again and I swear, I’ll strip all your wires and have your
components melted down for scrap metal!”
Ziggy’s
infuriatingly calm and arrogant tones continued to fill the room.
“None of that alters what you must do to cause my Father to
be loosened from the constraint he is currently experiencing.
Nor does it lessen your duty to your mission which I believe
was to retrieve Dr. Beckett at any cost.
Finally, your threats to destroy me do not alter the fact that
you effectively killed my other parent.”
Tom
suddenly realized what the evitable outcome of this interchange would
be. He figured getting
there first would at least save time and aggravation.
“Who would my observer be?”
Tom realized that leaping would be a part of his near future
reality.
“Sammie
Jo had performed observer duties in the past.
As she has a significant portion your genes in common, she
would be the logical choice.” The
computer droned on as if this were an everyday occurrence.
“Okay,
please page Dr. Fulton to meet me in 15 minutes.
Dom, get me a Fermi suit.”
The
chief programmer had been silent during this exchange.
Indeed, he had been silent during most of the past two months,
at least in the Control Room, speaking only when absolutely necessary.
Like most of the personnel on the Project, he felt that Admiral
Thomas Beckett, while likely a fine Project Administrator, had acted
on a personal vendetta rather than the best interests of the Project,
and at the heart of those best interests was Dr. Samuel Beckett.
Now, Dom nodded and left to retrieve the suit.
Fifteen
minutes later, Admiral Thomas Beckett stepped into the Quantum
Accelerator and vanished.
PART
TWO
Time
Unknown
Al’s
Place
Cokesburg
,
PA
Tom
felt the tingly, almost electrical feeling leave his body.
Everything seemed fine. He
wondered where he could be and when he was.
He had come to his consciousness in front of a local
establishment, Al’s Place. It
looked to be a nice, friendly neighborhood bar.
Probably a good place to find out more about his life.
As
Tom walked through the door, he saw a rather husky, middle aged,
dark-haired, mustached man in button down white shirt with an apron
tied around his waist behind the bar.
He looked to be a pleasant soul, as he was whistling while
drying glasses and putting them away.
Other then the Bartender, there was no one else in the room.
Tom walked up to the bar and commented, “I didn't see a sign
when I came into town. What
town is this?”
The
Bartender looked at him and in a friendly voice replied, “
Cokesburg
,
Pennsylvania
.”
Tom
figured the first order of business would be to learn who he was.
He looked into the mirror behind the bar and saw his own
reflection. Somehow the
visage that looked back at him seemed distorted; a harder look than he
figured was his projection to the world.
He figured the mirror might be old and that the lighting in the
bar may be to blame.
The
Bartender was looking at him, gauging the person he was.
Tom figured that he was just a good, savvy businessman.
After all, he was a stranger here and bars could encourage
behaviors that a proprietor may not wish to have in his establishment.
Now that he knew he had somehow leapt as himself, he figured he
needed to learn the date of his leap.
When he was. Newspapers
were generally good for that. “Ah...you
wouldn’t happen to have a newspaper would you?”
The
Bartender gestured, “End of the bar, Can I get you anything?”
Tom
was nonchalant. “No.
Not at this time. I'm
looking for someone.” He
picked up the paper indicated, a frown crossing his face.
“Hey...doesn't this town print the date in their
newspaper?”
The
Bartender stopped wiping the glass he was holding and looked up at
Tom. “Time is a little relative here.
Are you waiting for anyone I know?”
Tom
was a bit annoyed. “I
don't know you and I certainly don’t know who
you know. What do you mean
relative?”
The
Bartender resumed his maintenance of the glassware.
“Time just kind of comes and goes. We like to take things
slowly here.”
“Whatever...I
don't have a lot of time to spend in chit chat.
I'm looking for my brother.”
The
bartender put down the glass he had just polished and picked up
another one. “What's
your brother’s name?”
Tom
knew it wouldn’t help, but answered anyway.
“Sam. He's in a
jam at the moment and I'm trying to help him out of it.”
The
Bartender stopped again and looked as if he were thinking of someone
he knew well. “Hmmm, I
know a Sam. He tends to
find himself in a lot of jams, but he always seems to get himself out
of them. With a little
help from his friends. I’m
afraid that right now, he’s having some major difficulties due to
conflict between those he loves.”
Tom
was annoyed. He didn’t
care about any other Sam, just his brother.
“That’s too bad. Uh,
the Sam I'm looking for is not always himself.”
“Who
in this world is always themselves?
We all wear many masks and the way we interact with those
around us is often different, depending on how we perceive them and
ourselves.”
“Yeah,
well. I guess that's true
enough. I don’t want to
get into a philosophical discussion right now.”
Tom continued to voice his concern about his brother.
“As to the Sam I’m looking for, people generally don't get
to know him well. They
tend to think he's someone else. He
tends to only be around any one place for a short time.
How long have you known the Sam you're talking about?”
“Long
time.”
Tom
shook his head. “I
don’t think we’re talking about the same person then.”
The
Bartender sighed and looked frustrated.
“I don’t know. The
Sam I know comes in from time to time when he needs help, or if I do.
We help each other the best we can, and he moves on, off to make a
difference in some other life.”
“Yeah....well
my brother does try to help people.
While I admire him for that, I think it was damned stupid of
him to get himself into the jam he’s in.”
“We
all get into jams sometime. Is it possible that your brother made a
conscious decision to live his life differently than you think is best
and you need to accept that? And
as I said before, the Sam I know has friends who help him through his
evolutions.”
Tom
was floored. He knew what
these were from a SEAL’s perspective.
He suddenly remembered his brother had once indicated that he
too had to work through such things, but he was only 16 at the time.
“Evolutions?”
The
Bartender looked Tom straight in the eyes.
“Yes. At any
particular moment, the Sam I know finds himself working through things
that he has little or no knowledge about or even what he should do.
Occasionally he needs his friend’s help.
Indeed, a couple of times, one particular friend of his, Al,
has shown up in his stead. Al is always right there to help when Sam
needs it. I wonder where
he is this time.”
Tom
had a feeling that this place was not a normal stop along the timeline
of his life. “Al?
AL
! You're not talking about
a jerk whose last name is Calavicci are you?”
“One
in the same, but I wouldn’t call him a jerk. He has helped the Sam
I’ve been talking about more in the last thirteen years than you can
possibly imagine.”
“Well,
he's not going to be anymore. He
was killed last week in a car accident.
So if you know Al, then the Sam you're talking about...”
“Is
the same Sam.” The
Bartender finished for him. “Yes,
we’ve been both speaking of your brother. The
reason why Sam is trapped right now is directly related to Al’s life
and death.”
Tom
didn’t want to hear this of all things.
It didn’t make sense. “What
do you mean? Sam's been
stuck for two months! Calavicci
just died a week ago. I
don't see how those are connected.”
Tom stopped for a moment, trying to figure out how this man
seemed to know things far beyond what was normal.
“How do you know so much about this stuff anyway?
Where the hell am I?”
The
Bartender was nonplussed. “These
events were set in motion when the Admiral was removed from Sam’s
Project. As to where you
are, you’re simply in my bar.”
Tom’s
eyes narrowed. “This
isn't like any bar I've been in. You
seem to know a little too much about such an Ultra Secret project.”
“There
is something special about this place and I am just a simple bar
keep.” The Bartender
looked around his establishment, satisfaction in his eyes.
His voice indicated a definite pride.
Tom’s
answer dripped with pure sarcasm.
“Yeah...sure....and I'm just some dumb
Indiana
farm boy. I don’t
believe that for a minute. Doesn't
fly, buddy. I still
don’t see how that traitor's removal from a Project he should have
never been on would have anything to do with Sam.
As far as I’m concerned, he hasn't done near enough to help
my brother out of this mess he's gotten himself into!
If anything, he’s responsible for it.”
The
Bartender shook his head. “I
don't see how you consider that Al is a traitor. Sometimes, you do
what you have to do in order to survive or help someone else do so.”
The Bartender took a moment to consider his next question.
“Did you do everything by the book at all times when you were
a SEAL, Tom?”
“This
isn’t about me!” Tom
continued to feel that somehow, he’d stepped out of normalcy but he
couldn’t figure this place out.
He decided maybe some questions were in order.
“How do you know my name?
Or that I was a SEAL. We’ve
never met.”
“You
would be surprised at what a Bartender knows about their customers.
I know quite a bit about Sam.
Why would it surprise you that I know about those who are
important to him? But you
haven’t answered my question. Did
you do everything by the book at all times when you were a SEAL?”
Tom
didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. “That
was different...it was war. I
had lives to protect. Calavicci
disregarded a direct order from Homeland Security...he chose to ignore
that order. That makes him
a traitor in my book.”
“Al
had your brother’s life to protect.”
“As
much as I love my brother, his life does not take precedence
fulfilling our oath to our country.
Even Sam would tell you that.”
“Yes.
But how many lives has Sam saved while he has been leaping back
and forth through time. How
many people has he protected? All
those lives have touched others, and those lives, others. Your brother
has done a lot of good.”
The
answer from the older Beckett was dismissive.
“Yeah...I know all about that.
I've read though Ziggy's files.
Sam has done a lot of good, but he can do more for the world if
we can get him back to the Project.
He should never have leapt.
Never have been given the chance to leap.
If I'd been his partner instead of Calavicci, I sure as hell
wouldn't have let him leap. Not
without the retrieval program working.”
“Right
now, because of events that were set in motion two months ago at the
Project, he might not be able to do anything more at all. He might not
even be able to get home. Sam
is in real danger of being stuck in time forever unless you can fix
this.” The Bartender
placed his hand on Tom’s, “And, I can tell you with certainty, you
would have been in no position to stop his leaping if Sam hadn’t
leapt to begin with.”
Tom
was perplexed. “What do
you mean by that? That
makes no sense at all. I
could have helped him better than Calavicci ever could.
My brother's smart but he can do some pretty boneheaded things.
I've known Sam since he was born.
Hell, when Sam met that jerk, Calavicci was a drunken has-been.
I'll never know what Sam saw in him.”
“Sam
has a gift of seeing what is inside of people.
It is one of his best qualities.”
Again,
Tom dismissed any of this. “All
I know is that Sam has a soft spot for strays.
If Sam had had his way, every stray dog and puppy would have
been brought to the farm. We
were lucky to keep it down to two cats.”
“Al
is more loyal to Sam that any cat or dog could ever be.”
“Yeah,
well, sometimes when something is that broken down, you shouldn't risk
everything for it. Need to
know when to cut your losses. Sam
chose to risk his job and his reputation for that nozzle.
He didn't deserve it. He
never did anything that noble for Sam!”
“Remember,
the story of the Ugly Duckling. Everyone
thought he was a worthless duckling, but he became a beautiful swan.
Just because it's hard to see the good in someone doesn't mean it's
not there. How would you
know what Al has done for him? You’ve
never really given the man a chance, never tried to see beyond your
current perception. I
think you need to learn a little more about your brother and his best
friend. It seems to me,
you don’t know them half as well as you think you do.”
The Bartender’s voice was firm and steady with surety
embedded in every word.
The
Beckett in front of him crossed his arms defiantly.
“I know them just fine.”
The
Bartender shook his head sadly. “I
think you don’t. I think
there are some things you need to see.”
He sighed and looked into Tom’s eyes, cajoling Tom to really
hear what he had to say. “Normally
a leaper touching another leaper will cause the leapers to recognize
each other’s true selves. In
your case, the rules are going to change a bit.
You will see the leaper when you touch them but they will not
see you. They were like
ghosts to you the first time. Now,
you will be like that to them. You
will see events as they unfold. Open
you eyes, Tom…and your heart.”
Tom
suddenly felt that tingly feeling come over him again.
Al’s Place and the strange bartender faded from his view as
he leapt again.
PART
THREE
Project
Quantum Leap Control Room
September
27, 1996
Stallion’s
Gate, NM
Tom
realized he was back at Project Quantum Leap, but somehow, things were
different. He looked down
and found he was wearing a lab coat.
Al
walked in dressed in an orange silk shirt with a silver bar at the
neck, black slacks, and leopard print skinny suspenders.
Tom could never understand this man’s fascination with wild
clothing. Al turned to
him, “Gooshie, fire up the Imaging Chamber.”
Gooshie’s
been dead for years. What’s
Al talking about. Tom
was confused.
Al
looked over to him, looking a little perturbed.
“Gooshie, anytime now would be good.”
Tom
was still confused. “Sam’s leaping?
You’re still here?”
Al
looked at “Gooshie” as if he’d lost his mind.
“Gooshie, of course I’m still here.
Where else would I be? And
you know Sam’s already leapt. He’s
trying to make the leapee’s younger brother’s life better.
We already talked about that.
I want to get in there, pronto.
I have something to show Sam.”
Tom
noticed that Al had something in his hand.
He suddenly realized what was different about the situation.
He must be in the earlier days of PQL and he must have leapt
into Dr. Gushman. “What
are you going to show Sam?”
Al
walked over to show Gooshie the picture.
“Well, the fact that he’s an older brother in this leap has
got him thinking about Tom. He’s
got his memory back and I thought he’d like to see a picture of the
two of them together. I
got the picture off the bookshelf in his office.”
Al looked at the picture. “He
sure was close to his brother.”
Tom
took the picture out of Al’s hand.
It was the picture his mother had taken of Sam and him on the
day of his graduation from
Annapolis
. Seeing it brought back
memories of being with Sam. God
I miss Sam! He handed
the picture back to Al. “Okay,
let me get this fired up…” At
that moment he leapt.
~*~*~*~*~*
Meeks
College
Library
October
20, 1967
As
he came to his senses, he found himself standing between two lines of
bookshelves. He was in a
library. But where?
And when?
Suddenly
through the breaks between the books he saw a man grab the shoulder of
a young, dark haired woman. She
turned and noticed he was holding a macramé purse.
She took it from him. Tom
couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.
“
Elizabeth
.” The man was trying to
start a conversation, or continue one.
“Look, um, can we just start over again?”
He sounded contrite. “I’m
sorry about the bathroom…”
She
was obviously trying to end it by letting the guy down easy.
“Look…Knut, you and I are different.
We live in completely disparate worlds.”
Knut
latched on to a simile. “Sort
of like the Montague’s and Capulet’s?”
Her
face indicated surprise that this man would say that.
“Exactly…all…all you care about is beer and partying and
I’m trying…”
“…you’re
trying to change the world,” he finished for her.
“I know.” He
paused for a second and then continued, “…but do you think
violence is the way to do it?”
Elizabeth
answered too quickly, as if she were
repeating something she’d learned by rote.
“It’s the only voice the bloated ruling class can
understand.”
Knut
faced registered that he was amazed she would buy such a statement
“Do you really believe that? What
Duck says? I mean, don’t
you see? If you use
violence, you are as morally corrupt as the people you’re fighting
against.”
Elizabeth
replied passionately, “Sometimes
you have to fight fire with
fire.”
Knut
again tried to reason with her by stating with certainty.
“
Elizabeth
, violence is not going to stop this war.”
She
was obviously committed. “But
we’ve got to end it. Too
many people are dying.”
He
cajoled her to try another path. “Then
stop it by using something more powerful than violence.”
He said it with conviction.
He seemed to be getting through to her.
Her body language was engaged in the conversation, she was
listening.
Another
man joined them. He
answered the statement with derision.
“Well, I’m afraid God
seems to be sitting this one out.”
He learned against the bookshelves as if he knew he would win
this argument. Tom
wondered if this might be the “Duck” that Knut had mentioned.
Knut
said softly, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that…los…”
Tom felt Knut was about to call the man a loser but stopped
himself. Yeap,
this must be Duck. Knut
switched gears instead, “I know this is a cliché, but the pen is
mightier than the sword.” Tom
recalled Sam saying this to him on multiple occasions when events
occurred in the world which Sam felt could be handled in better ways.
As a Nobel Prize winning physicist, he knew that what he said
would be carried by the media, if only due to his status and the fact
that many people would figure that a man like Sam Beckett would know
what he was talking about.
Duck
was angry. “The time for
rhetoric is over.”
Knut
continued his logical argument, pointing out how little Duck had
actually traveled down that path.
“You haven’t even begun yet.
You think 20 people at an outdoor rally is a big deal?”
A derisive chuckle. “You
need 20 thousand, 20 million…”
Now
it was
Elizabeth
’s turn to doubt. “That’s
impossible.”
Knut
was adamant. “Not with
the pen…not with publicity…in any form.”
He was animated. “Newspapers,
magazines, pamphlets,” suddenly it was if he’d hit on the
strongest one, “television…”
She
was truly incredulous, “Television?”
He let out a sharp breath as if she didn’t believe that
someone could be this naïve. Who
would put their cause on television?
Knut’s
enthusiasm was infectious. “Television
is going to play a big part in stopping this war.
Publicity is the key, not violence.”
She
seemed to hear what he had to say but suddenly decided to turn away
from it. “The only
reason why you’re saying this to me is you want me to go to some
party with you. You
don’t care about the people over there!
You don’t care about how many soldiers are dying!”
She started to walk away from him.
He
grabbed her arm. There was
fervor in his voice. “I
do care!”
The
other man rushed in, grabbing Knut, trying to pull him away from her.
“Hey! Hey, let
her go!”
Knut
pulled his arm away and with an angry voice replied, “You stay out
of this!” He continued
to try to catch
Elizabeth
’s attention.
The
other man was not giving up, grabbing at Knut with more force, and
answered with anger of his own. “Back
away, man!” Suddenly
Knut turned on him and backed him into the bookshelf, causing books on
the uppermost shelves to fall upon them.
Elizabeth
was shocked.
“Don’t!” she yelled.
“Don’t! Stop
it!”
The
man against the bookshelf was showing bravado as Knut grabbed at the
sides of his vest. Tom was
sure that Knut wanted to lay this guy out, but instead released him
and walked away. As he
reached the end of the aisle, Knut turned suddenly, his face showing
that he was dealing with some deep internal pain.
“Look…I lost a brother in
Vietnam
.” His voice broke and
was raw. “All right?
So don’t tell me I don’t care!”
He turned again and started to walk off again.
Duck
yelled after him “Maybe you should have cared a little more about
him, before he went.”
Knut
stopped suddenly and a breath left him as if he’d been punched in
the gut. Tom couldn’t
see his face but could tell he was trying to control his emotions by
the way he carried himself. For
a moment, although this man was much larger than his brother, the way
he was holding himself reminded him of Sam during times when his
Little Brother dealt with situations that threatened to overtake him
emotionally.
Elizabeth
had looked at the other man in
horror that he could say such a hurtful thing to someone in this much
pain. The man had looked
at her and stormed off.
Elizabeth
rushed up to Knut, softly saying to him, “Knut, I’m sorry.”
Knut
was obviously still embedded in a deeply troubling memory.
He turned to look at Duck, but the man was gone.
He looked away, a lost expression on his face.
Elizabeth
continued, “I’m really sorry.”
Knut
was ready to pull away. He
softly answered her with a “Yeah” as if he really didn’t believe
she was doing anything more than placating him.
He started to walk away again, when she stopped him.
“So,
what are you supposed to wear to these luau things?”
Knut,
at first just stared. But
suddenly a smile took possession of his face.
It held gratitude in its structure.
Tom
felt an electrical tug pull him away from this scene.
He was unsure what it all meant.
Again, the blue glow claimed Thomas Beckett as he was whisked
away to another time and place.
PART
FOUR
April
8, 1970
Vietnam
“She
was going…to…kill you.”
Tom
realized he was standing waist deep in the familiar (if a 38-year-old
memory could be considered familiar) river water of
Vietnam
. He remembered hearing
those words before and saw Magic standing in front of him, the
Vietnamese guerilla, the chu-hoi, lying face down in the water, his
own hand on her neck, dead by Magic’s actions.
He
looked down, letting out a breath, two.
He was here again, reliving that horrible day when he’d
almost fulfilled his brother’s prophecy.
Helicopters
were flying all around them, shooting at the Vietnamese positions.
Magic had called in the
Calvary
. How he knew they were
there, he wasn’t sure. The
SEAL unit ran for the chopper. Again
Magic seemed to know exactly where the booby traps were.
Suddenly, Magic turned back.
A hole filled in Tom’s Swiss-cheesed mind.
Maggie!
Tom saw Maggie Dawson was running towards them.
Magic screamed to her to stop but Maggie didn’t hear.
She tripped the wire and Tom suddenly remembered the result, he
knew what he’d see. Magic
reached her first, his voice cracking as he called out her name.
Maggie had just enough life left to hand the camera to Magic,
her voice a whisper. But
her single word was understood. “Pulitzer.”
Magic
was inconsolable on the flight back, holding the camera, almost like
he was holding a vigil over Maggie’s body.
Tears streamed down his face.
Tom had never seen Magic take someone’s death quite this
hard. Tom scooted close to
Magic and put his arm around him, tears filling his eyes as well.
‘God, I could have saved her if I’d just remembered in time.
Magic tried to save her. It’s
my guilt, not his’.
Suddenly,
the Bartender’s strange words made sense.
“They were like ghosts to you the first time.
Now, you will be like that to them.”
He could now see why Magic had seemingly changed on that
mission, Operation Lazarus. It
had seemed like there was someone he was responding to that helped him
to remember things. Remember
to say things as simple as “Ay, Ay.”
And then, just as strangely, returned to the way he’d always
been. Tom had chalked that
up to the affect of Maggie on Magic but now… Now he knew.
As
he had touched Magic, he suddenly saw his brother beside him.
He realized that his brother had been correct during that weird
leave home the Thanksgiving right before he left for Vietnam
He remembered how his Little Brother had done everything
possible to keep Tom from going to Vietnam.
Sam had been telling the truth.
Sam could see the
future, because he had lived
it. Tom hadn’t been
talking to the 16-year-old kid he thought his brother was then.
He had been talking to the 40-something man who had lived most
of his life without his big brother.
Tom knew for certain at that moment.
Originally, Magic hadn’t been there to save him.
He had died on April 8, 1970, just like Sam had tried to tell
him.
He
looked at his brother now. Understanding
for the first time what had driven Sam to step into the Accelerator
without waiting for the retrieval program to be finished.
Sam couldn’t take the chance that he wouldn’t be allowed to
continue his work. He felt
that he had to trust that those he left behind would figure out how to
get him home. That leap
had been, at least in part, for this, to have more years with the
brother he loved. More
tears came to Tom’s eyes. He
knew that to his brother sitting beside him, all his tears were for
Maggie. Tom knew better,
but couldn’t tell Sam.
That
night at the bar, Tom tried to console his inconsolable brother,
knowing he couldn’t let on that he knew Sam was there.
He saw Calavicci standing by, as always.
He was dressed in his Dress Whites.
How cliché could one get.
He ignored the man now, just as he always did.
“You didn’t kill her, Magic.”
He thought for a moment ‘I could have saved her, though, if I’d remembered in time.’
Sam
took a swig off of his fourth beer.
That one was almost finished too.
He knew Sam didn’t usually drink that much and his brother
was certainly feeling the effects.
“She sure as hell didn’t die the first time…” He took a
short breath, but he went on, “…April the 8th, 1970 rolled
around.”
This
surprised him. He knew he
would have been killed, but he assumed that Maggie had died the first
time too. He asked,
“What are you talking about?”
Sam
stopped for a second looking down.
Suddenly
that jerk Calavicci provided the explanation to Tom’s question.
“No,” Sam turned his head towards his Observer as he
pointed at Tom with his ever present cigar.
“But Tom did.”
Tom
heard the self-loathing in Sam’s voice.
“Well there it is, isn’t it?”
He paused for just a second, and then stated, his voice
cracking, “I traded a life for a life.”
Sam’s eyes looked into the distance at something no one else
from any time could see.
Tom
didn’t know what to say. Putting
his hand on Sam’s shoulder, he just needed to get away.
Not wanting to have Calavicci see him acting different from the
Tom of 1970, he smiled slightly and said, “You are one weird dude,
Magic.” It cut him to
the quick to see his brother’s suffering so evident on his face.
He laughed weakly. Sam
finished the beer. Tom
walked away.
Tom
heard Calavicci tell Sam, “I was the one who led you back to save
your brother. So if
anyone’s responsible, it’s me.”
Tom had to admit, it was nice of Al to try and take some of the
guilt feelings from his brother, even though he knew the truth.
The
Colonel walked into the bar carrying a manila envelope.
He handed it to Tom, who knew this time around what would be in
it. They were the pictures
that showed Al Calavicci and another prisoner being moved along by a
couple of Vietnamese guards. Tom
opened them. Looking at
the pictures again he had the same reaction as the first time, “She
was one hell of a photographer.”
The
Colonel answered, “She was one hell of a woman.”
Sam,
now working on his fifth beer chimed in, “And I killed her.”
The
Colonel chose to disagree. “No,
I did.”
Tom
didn’t like the way this conversation was going.
“Oh, stop it, both of you.”
Calavicci
spoke up again. “What
did she say to you that time in the bunker?”
Sam’s
head was down. “She said
she’d sell her soul for a Pulitzer.”
As he said it, he faced Al again.
The
Colonel spoke again, a smile on his face.
“Not just her soul.”
Knowing
he couldn’t let on, Tom stated, “Yeah, well, I wish she’d got
it.”
Calavicci
stated flatly, “She did.”
Sam
looked up; an anguished yet puzzled look upon his face.
The news had obviously shocked Sam as he voiced an animated,
“What?”
Tom
knew that Sam’s question was out of place.
He filled in quickly, “Pulitzer.
I wish she’d won the Pulitzer Prize.”
Al
stated again “She did. For her last photograph.”
Sam
looked confused. He got up
and grabbed them away from Tom, looking at each one.
Suddenly he found a photo which he closely examined;
recognizing what Tom already knew was there.
Al Calavicci’s face. He’d
been one of the prisoners. The
picture had been plastered around the world.
Tom hadn’t known it was Calavicci at the time, but he would
later. He knew now.
Suddenly
Tom heard something from Al he never would have imagined.
As Sam looked at Al, realizing who would have been saved on
that mission, Al looked back at him, pain evident in his eyes.
Tom realized that Al had made a decision on that leap.
“What the hell, I get repatriated in five years.”
Tom
recalled reading the log of the leap when Sam had cut those five years
down to two. Still…the
man in front of him was choosing another five years of hell at this
point in time. Who would
do that? From what Tom had
heard from other POW’s, it was truly hell on earth.
No matter what the rumors were at the Pentagon, this man was
never a traitor.
Sam’s
voice was a whisper. He
too knew what Al had done for him, giving him back his brother.
“You could have been free.”
Al
told Sam, “I was free.” Sam
just continued to stare at him. Al
continued, pointing to his head “Up here, I was always free.”
Sam was still stunned.
Tom
remembered that night. At
midnight, he’d announced that he was alive.
He thought it more of a joke back then.
A way to say that his brother’s shenanigans back in November
were just simply ridiculous. Now
he knew better. But he had
to keep up the act. Looking
at his watch he stated, “Hey, hey it’s midnight.
It’s April the ninth and I’m still alive.”
Then Tom put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, smiling broadly at
him, “Thanks to you, Little Brother.”
Sam
looked at him in amazement but then a second later, Tom realized that
he had his hand on Magic’s shoulder and was looking into rather
severely confused eyes.
Sam had leapt.
He was about to say something but then felt the tingly feeling
that accompanied leaping and he too, was gone.
TO
BE CONTINUED
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