From: Coast2C@aol.com
Date: Tue, 30 Apr 1996 21:27:09 -0400
Message-ID: <960430211653_387212338@emout12.mail.aol.com>
Subject: Convergence:  Part 6 of 25

Convergence
by
Dana Anderson

Part 6 of   25      (Author's Notes and Disclaimer found in Part 1)

*               *               *               * 

Eight hours later, when Al had screwed up enough courage to make 
another run at Colonel Tyler, Sam leaped again.  This was a tough 
one, with the lives of an entire family hanging in the balance.  

Between assisting Sam and working against the deadline for the 
next year's budget for the project as well as closing the books on the 
third quarter of this year Al barely had time to check with Ziggy 
regarding Jenna's activities, much less check up on or talk to her 
personally.  

Then Sam leaped again, and again.  

Before Al had a chance to think about the length of time that had 
passed since his last, unfortunate, encounter with Colonel Tyler he 
caught sight of a brightly colored notice posted in the cafeteria 
announcing the plans for the project Halloween party.  Al ate his 
lunch and then inquired of Ziggy as to Colonel Tyler's whereabouts.  
Ziggy reported that she had left the complex for a run.

Since he had just left Sam, who was preparing for bed back in 1973, 
Al decided to check on the state of the paperwork in his office.  As 
he covered the distance between the cafeteria and his office a 
nagging doubt surfaced in his mind.  He arrived at his office and 
began to put the papers he found on his desk in some kind of order. 

"Ziggy" he called out.  "You keep saying that Colonel Tyler hasn't 
talked to anyone outside the project since she's been here and I agree 
that you would know about any communiqué she sent from here; but 
couldn't she send some kind of message to someone when she goes 
out for one of her runs?"

"Possible, but unlikely" the computer replied.  "The scanners at the 
main entrance would pick up any metallic or electronic objects on 
her person when she left or entered.  Your theory would require that 
she had some kind of transmitter hidden within running distance of 
the complex.  Where and how would she have acquired it?  She has 
never been away from the complex for more than forty five minutes 
at a time and has always departed and returned on foot."

"Okay" Al rasped.  "Call me paranoid, but her actions just don't 
make any sense to me.  Why hasn't she raised holy hell about the 
effect Sam building this project and leaping back in time had on her 
life.  It would only be human of her to hold a grudge against us.  
And she is in a perfect position to have her revenge.  I just don't get 
it!"

"I have studied the concept of revenge, Admiral" the computer 
responded.  "I agree that this appears to be a situation in which a 
human might be tempted to employ it, but perhaps she has some 
other motivation which overrides any thoughts of vengeance she 
might harbor."

"Like what?" Al demanded.

"I don't know"  Ziggy said.  "Why don't you ask her?"

"I would if I could ever catch up to her" Al stated in exasperation.  
"Well, if nothing else good comes out of this that power upgrade 
was a real boon.  We've had an average decrease in power 
consumption of thirty eight per cent over the last two weeks.  If this 
continues we'll have the money for some other budgetary requests I 
haven't been able to grant."  He initialed two more reports and 
shifted them from one side of his desk to the other.  

"What has she been up to lately?"  Al inquired.  "Still obsessed with 
the power plant?"  

"Since the upgrade was completed sixteen days ago, Colonel Tyler 
has apparently lost all interest in power generation and 
consumption.  She has not ventured to a level below this one since 
that time"  Ziggy answered.

Al's suspicions were immediately aroused.  "Then what has she been 
doing?"

"She spent three days reviewing the last ten years worth of technical 
journals relating to electronics and communications and another two 
days researching current developments in the same disciplines.  
Since then she has spent most of her waking hours in her 
laboratory" Ziggy replied.

Another nagging doubt leaped to the forefront in Al's mind.  
"Ziggy" he began, formulating his inquiry carefully "considering the 
proximity of our quarters and offices and including what you know 
of our habits and schedules, what is your calculation of the 
probability that Colonel Tyler and I would fail to encounter each 
other by pure chance more than we have over the past seven weeks 
unless some deliberate action prevented it?"

The computer answered almost immediately.  "The answer closely 
approaches zero, Admiral."

"Just as I thought"  he replied.  "Ziggy, I want you to notify me the 
next time Colonel Tyler sets foot in her laboratory or office.  I don't 
care where I am or what I'm doing.  Understand?"

"Yes, Admiral." she agreed.

Al didn't have long to wait.  He had dispatched the last piece of 
paperwork and was preparing to leave his office when Ziggy advised 
him that Colonel Tyler had just entered her lab.

"Good" Al growled.  He was well rested and hungry, the perfect 
state of mind and body to go on the hunt.  He strode down the 
hallway and, immediately following a perfunctory rap on the door, 
entered the laboratory.

"You've been avoiding me" he announced to the startled occupant.

"Yes, I have" she replied, and looked back down at the papers on the 
work bench in what appeared to Al as a complete and total 
dismissal.

Having a suspicion that had taken him seven weeks to form 
confirmed in such a blunt manner took the wind of out of his sails 
for a moment.  But Al's back was up and he wasn't going to retreat 
until he had the answers to some questions that had been bothering 
him for some time.  He stepped closer to her, intentionally invading 
her 'personal space'.  He knew from experience that this should 
make it impossible for her not to acknowledge his presence.  It 
worked.  She rose and, keeping the chair she had just vacated 
between them, looked at him.

"Why?" Al asked.

She sighed and looked away.  He took another step closer to her and 
she shifted her gaze back to him.  He could tell from the look in her 
eyes that she felt trapped.  He decided not to push her any harder 
and stepped back again.  

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he repeated.  

"In order to avoid this conversation" she replied.

"WHAT conversation?" Al roared, waving his arms.

"This one" she said.  "Look, I know you don't want me here but I'd 
appreciate it if you wouldn't ask that I be reassigned."  She gulped 
and then hurried to go on before he could interrupt.  "I think I can 
do some really good work here that would help the project."  She 
started to say something else, then appeared to change her mind.  
She just stood there biting her lower lip with a miserable look on her 
face.

Al was flabbergasted.  This was the demon he had been worrying 
about all these weeks?  And all she was concerned about was that he 
was going to send her packing?  

She evidently thought that he had the influence to override the 
committee's ruling that he had to accept her as Deputy Director in 
order to get next year's funding.  Well, he might at that.  He just 
hadn't forced the issue.  She had been leaping in time for ten years 
and he didn't really want her out of his sight and, he hoped, control 
until he had determined what danger she might pose to the project 
and Sam Beckett.  

He paused a moment to wonder if his earlier suspicions were correct.
This might be just an act to take advantage of any sympathy he 
might have for her.  He considered and then rejected the idea.  Al 
was an astute judge of people, especially women, and unless she was 
an actress of unparalleled talent she was quite simply afraid that she 
was about to be given her walking papers.

Al didn't know what else to do while she was in this state of mind, 
so he retreated to the doorway.  When he reached it he turned and 
said simply "I'm not going to ask that you be reassigned.  And you 
don't need to wear yourself out trying to stay out of my way."  He 
turned again and left the lab, closing the door behind him.

Over the next few days he didn't encounter her any more than he 
had in the past.  A week later a proposal for a three hundred per cent 
increase in communications capacity between Ziggy's front end 
processors and a host computer that controlled access for time share 
customers appeared on his desk.  Once again, the proposal was 
within a budget the project could afford and the upgrade would 
quadruple the revenue to the project that was generated by Ziggy's 
excess computing capacity.  

It had not occurred to Al, until he read the proposal, that this 
revenue stream had been limited by the capacity of the outside 
communications lines rather than Ziggy's capabilities.  This was the 
sort of thing that Sam would have produced if he had been here and 
Al had complained about budget problems.  Al briefly mourned the 
absence of his friend, then initialed the proposal, signed the 
procurement form and deposited the paperwork on the desk in the 
office next door.

*               *               *               * 

Three weeks into November, with the majority of the non-essential, 
and some of the essential, personnel on leave for Thanksgiving; Al 
received a note from Dr. Verbena Beeks asking that he make some 
time for her in his schedule.  

Al thought over his behavior during the past few weeks and decided 
that whatever she wanted to talk about probably did not concern him 
personally.  He really hated dealing with psychiatrists and it was a 
testimonial to Dr. Beeks' considerable professional ability, not to 
mention her personal charm, that Al honestly admired and respected 
her.  The only time he resented her presence at the project was 
when she tried to psychoanalyze Al himself.  He was pretty sure he 
was truthful with himself about his fears and hang ups and was 
prepared to live with them as they were.  Al preferred not to have 
anyone, even Verbena Beeks, poking around in his psyche and 
trying to get him to talk about his 'feelings'.  He arranged to meet 
her in the cafeteria at an hour when the severely depleted work force 
would be noticeably absent.

Al arrived before Dr. Beeks, so he fixed a cup of coffee the way she 
liked it, got a cup for himself and was on his way to a table when 
she walked in.  He allowed himself an appreciation for her physical 
beauty as she approached.  

"Hi, Al" she said with a dazzling smile as she sat down opposite him 
at the table he had chosen.

"Hello, Verbena.  I hope it isn't anything _I've_ done." Al replied.

"Feeling guilty?" she riposted, then laughed when he had the grace 
to act embarrassed.  "No, it isn't you.  At least not this time" and 
laughed again as Al displayed visible relief at her denial.  She took a 
sip of coffee and then sobered somewhat.  

"I know you are aware that Ziggy monitors some of the basic 
activities and interactions of the senior staff members."  

Al nodded and finished the statement for her.  "Yeah, then she 
compares them to a range of human norms you fed into her so she 
can alert you to any behavior that might indicate a problem in one of 
the staff" he said.  

"Correct" Verbena answered.  "Well, we appear to have what may be 
a serious psychological problem with a key staff member."

"Who?" he asked.  Even when he mentally reviewed the list of 
people he considered vital to the project and thought about how they 
had been acting recently he couldn't recall anything even slightly out 
of the ordinary.

"Colonel Tyler"  Dr. Beeks replied.  "She started ringing warning 
bells the first month she was here, but I know how the remote aspect 
of this place requires most people to go through a settling in period.  
I've been waiting to see how she would adjust before I said 
anything."

Al kicked himself for this oversight.  He should have realized that 
the Deputy Director would rate at least the equivalent psychological 
scrutiny he endured as Project Administrator.  The chances that 
Jenna would demonstrate normal behavior after ten years of leaping 
in time and then a shocking return to 'reality' were about the same as 
Al taking a vow of celibacy.

"What do you think her problem is?" he asked.  

"Ziggy, will you please list the behavioral patterns exhibited by 
Colonel Tyler that are outside the normal parameters I gave you?"  
Dr. Beeks requested.

"In the past ninety days Colonel Tyler has averaged three point two 
five hours of sleep per day, consumed an average of 980 calories of 
nourishment per day, averaged nineteen hours of work related 
activity per day, engaged in conversation with other persons for an 
average duration of less than one minute per day and her 
recreational activities not related to a physical fitness regimen are 
non-existent" the computer relayed.

"I can't find an explanation for this kind of behavior in the limited 
information I have on her" Dr. Beeks admitted.  "But I would stake 
my reputation on the conclusion that she's suffering from some kind 
of delayed stress disorder.  I tried to talk to her about it and she 
bolted like a frightened rabbit."

*I knew she was a little on the ragged edge,* Al thought *but this is 
downright scary.*

Verbena Beeks was the only person to whom Al had disclosed the 
fact that Sam had, indeed, changed the past in a sufficiently 
profound manner so as to cause changes in their present.  When he 
found that no one but he and Ziggy noticed the changes or 
remembered all the other previous pasts he had been stunned.  Then 
Ziggy had concluded that the reason for this effect was the fact that 
cells from Al's nervous system, along with brain cells cloned from 
Sam Beckett, made up the biological component in Ziggy's hybrid 
core.  

When Al became concerned that his knowledge of the changes in 
history might affect him more than he consciously realized, he had 
confided in Verbena Beeks.  She handled the not inconsiderable 
shock well and had taken the information into account when he 
appeared to forget things that were common knowledge to everyone 
else.  These were things that had evidently been changed somehow 
by Dr. Beckett and were, of course, news to Al.  It allowed her to 
assess his mental state more accurately without his telling her what 
had changed.

*Now I'm going to have to shake up her reality again,* Al thought.  
*There's no way to get around this without telling her the complete 
truth.*

"Well, Ziggy" Al said.  "I guess we'd better give Dr. Beeks the 
straight dope on our Deputy Director."

By the time Ziggy had related what they knew of Colonel Tyler's 
history, explained the incontrovertible proof that she had been 
leaping in time for ten years without any contact with the present 
and divulged the way in which she had actually arrived as Deputy 
Director of the project Dr. Beeks was shaking her head in 
amazement.

After the silence had dragged on for what seemed to Al as about an 
hour, but was probably no more than a few minutes, he could stand 
the suspense no longer.  

"Well, what are you thinking?" he asked.

"I was thinking I might need a drink before I can even discuss the 
implications of this information" she replied.

"Yeah, that was my reaction, too" Al confirmed.  "But I just had a 
short one and mangled a couple of cigars.  Can I get you 
something?"

"A gin and tonic, thanks."  Dr. Beeks answered.

Al went over to the cabinet where leftovers from sanctioned parties 
were kept and found the makings he required.  He returned to the 
table with the drink and placed it in front of the psychiatrist.  He 
could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind as she sipped the 
drink and assimilated the information that had just been disclosed to 
her.  After a few more minutes she gave Al a determined look.  

"It's both better and worse than I feared" she announced. 

"How so?" he countered.  "And please give me the good news first"

"Well, the abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother, her lack of 
any close relationship with another woman in her past and the 
psychological probing she endured in that incident in 1989 explains 
her alarming response to the approach of a female psychiatrist, 
meaning me."

"This is the good news?" Al demanded.

"Yes" Dr. Beeks said.  "A fear or phobia that can be explained by a 
traumatic event or events is easier to treat and always preferable to a 
fear that is unreasonable and might be the result of a physical 
disorder of the brain or some other pathological condition."

"Okay, I stand corrected.  Go on" prompted Al.

"The fact that she has been leaping into other people explains her 
avoidance of interpersonal contact.  She has spent the past ten years 
taking her cues on how to act from the people surrounding her 
reacting as though she were a person they know.  Now she is 
confronted with another group of strangers, but this time she is also 
a stranger to them.  They are relying on clues from her as much as 
she is from them to tell them the appropriate way to interact with 
her.  When she fails to give off identifiable clues it makes others 
uneasy and they avoid her.  She reacts by avoiding them." the 
psychiatrist said.  "This explains her almost complete lack of any 
interpersonal relationships and her retreat into work related 
activities, over which she feels some measure of competence and 
control."

"Her leaping also explains what I diagnosed as delayed stress 
syndrome.  I think we can agree that Sam has unfailing leaped into a 
crucial turning point in someone's life.  As often as not the event 
seems to involve a life and death decision.  Ten years of that would 
produce the equivalent of battle fatigue in the most stable 
personality.  She's forgotten how to operate under what we consider 
normal conditions.  She feels she needs to stay at 'battle stations' just 
to survive, much less accomplish anything.  This accounts for the 
short sleep cycle and a lack of a normal appetite."  Dr. Beeks halted 
her dissertation and sipped at her gin and tonic again.

"I'll bite" Al said.  "What's the bad news?"

"Before I tell you the bad news I'll give you the best news"  Dr. 
Beeks said.  "Even with all this trauma she has experienced:  the 
early years of abuse, neglect, an absence of love and repeated 
rejection and abandonment, the sudden loss of her husband in such 
an unexpected and brutal fashion and then leaping around in time 
for ten years completely disconnected from her life and personal 
identity; she is still functioning at a level that is marginally normal.  
She must have an extraordinarily high threshold for psychological 
torture and started out with the most stable psyche ever to have 
handled all this without ending up a basket case.  That means there 
is the potential that she can be treated with every hope of recovery."

"The bad news" she added "is that I'm not the person who can help 
her.  You are."

"Me!"  This was the last thing Al expected.  "Why me?" he 
demanded.

"Ziggy" the doctor said "give him the stats."

"Of the limited interpersonal activity in which Colonel Tyler has 
been a participant in the last three months" the computer intoned  
"ninety percent of the time she has spent in the presence of another 
person and eighty percent of the conversation she has engaged in 
has been with a single individual.  You, Admiral."

"You're the closest thing she has in the world to a best friend, Al" 
Dr. Beeks added with a smile.

*               *               *               * 

End Part 6 of  25