Date: Mon, 31 May 93 03:57:46 MDT From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (Bill'n'Opus'96) Message-Id: <9305310957.AA01362@banshee.vla.nrao.edu> To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: REPOST -- Future Perfect -- Part 3 Oops. I made a mistake! That's what I get for not proofreading! The year than Sam is in is 1023, not 1033. I also corrected a couple of inconsistancies. Sorry! Future Perfect Part III "...The probabilty of ephemeral leaping has increased to such a level that Monitor can no longer do the task alone; thus the creation of a paramilitary corps, much like Starfleet Marines. Troubleshooters armed with the best technology available to correct possible temporal inconsistancies..." Excerpt from Guidelines for Temporal Agents (Internal Use Only) Temporal Index: August 13, 572 Spatial Co-ordernates: 4 degees West, 57 degrees 30 minutes North, Terra (Near Loch Ness, Scotland) Thom hunkered down in the cool morning air, trying to keep warm, which he was failing miserably. He dared not to start a fire, for smoke would travel far this morning, and the heatpacks failed to work for some unexplained reason. The dark waters of the loch were mirror smooth, and they reflected the cold air. Loch Ness never got much warmer than 5 degrees C, even in the warmest days of summer, which were past. At least the midges were not bothering too much. Thom noticed movement on the far shore, which was roughly a quarter mile distant. He brought the hand scanner up to his eyes and zoomed in on the scene. Several men were gathered around a small boat of leather shaped like a bowl. Rough oars were visible in the boat itself. "Huh, a corricle. Who would have thought." Thom muttered, watching his breath form in the air. He felt a familiar tingling near his right temple, and closed his eyes resigningly. "Thom," the hologram spoke. Thom opened his eyes. Kurt was standing knee deep in the waters of Loch Ness. Kurt looked around. "Very pretty. I've been to Scotland before, but never this far back. Remind me to come here sometime." "Kurt, whatever it is, I'm on leave. Send someone else." Kurt looked at Thom. He was wearing his uniform which was reminicient of the uniform of Starfleet of the 23rd century; black pants and boots, white turtleneck, and an overcoat of iridescent grey. Black piping on the over- coat finished the job. Simple, yet sharp. "Sorry, Thom. Orders from the top. You are to temport to 1023 AD. You're primary on a mission. There's been a broach that is pan-dimensional, it started out at 5 years per hour, but it's picked up speed." "Damn." Thom quickly gathered up his gear. The primary rule of agents working uptime was never to leave any evidence behind. "I take it that there will be someone waiting in 1023?" "Alex and Alexi," Kurt mentioned the genengineered twins. Thom raised an eyebrow at that. Alex and Alexi were telepathic with each other, and to a lesser extent with other people, predominantly Vulcans and Betazeds. "That important, huh?" Thom asked, making small talk while his mind raced. He commanded his biocomp to transmit his coordernates to the London downlink for teleportation. He received an acknowledgement almost immediately. "Ok, Kurt. I'm out of here. Can you give me any further details?" Kurt nodded. "Alex and Alexi will fill you in. Good luck, Thom." The hologram vanished. Thom sighed as he cast a look towards the far shore. <<< Energize >>> Thom commanded through his biocomp. As the world vanished into blue sparkles, Thom was certain that he saw a black hump in the water near the small boat. Figures, he though. Temporal Index: Late August, 1023 Spatial Co-ordernates: 6 degrees West, 56 degrees 30 minutes North, Terra (Isle of Iona, off the coast of Mull, Scotland) Sam ran a hand through his hair as he thought. What little he knew about MacBeth was from reading Shakespeare, and he knew even less about the early Scottish government. He didn't remember a Thorfinn in the play, but he did recall Malcolm. Nothing was mentioned about Malcolm being a bastard son, though. "Do you have a headache, Father?" "No, not yet at any rate. When will MacBeth be here?" The other priest shrugged his shoulders. "I half expected him before now, to tell the truth. Certainly within a couple of days." He looked at Sam carefully. "Are you sure that I can't help you, Father?" Sam put a smile on his face as he clasped the shoulder of the other priest. "No, thank you, Brother;" Sam prayed that this was the right title to use. "I think that I will take a walk, to muse about what I am going to say about Duncan." The priest relaxed. "A walk will do you good. The Lord knows that you've been inside much to much. Peace go with you, Father." "And with you," Sam said as he headed for the small hill that overlooked the small community. He climbed to the top with ease, and was rewarded for his efforts with a sharp wind that cut through the thin linen. He pulled it close about himself, and looked about. The only sign of inhabitation was the small church and the dozen or so beehive looking mounds. Sheep grazed where they would, with no fences to keep them in. The only fence that Sam saw was around the small garden. It looked like a lonely life, but these monks seemed happy enough. Sam continued to look around. Water as far as the eye could see to the west south, with a smattering of islands dotting the northern expanses. Apparently, Sam thought, Iona was a very small island. He guessed it's length to be not much more than three miles long. To the east, the bulk of Mull covered most of the horizon. To the northeast, he saw a small island that jutted out of the water like a right triangle. "That's the isle of Staffa, where Fingal's Cave is," a voice spoke. Sam turned, startled. A man stood before him, dressed much like Sam was, with the exception of a thick wool plaid that was draped about his shoulders. Sam saw a kind face, one of great expression. The man had black hair that was tinged with silver around the temples. He had an equally black beard that was speckled with silver and was well trimmed. He also had crows feet around laughing green eyes. "I'm sorry to have interupted your meditations. You've been up here for more than an hour, and Brother Calum was worried about you." "Fingal's Cave. You said that in English." Sam reached out and touched the other man. He was solid. He flashed Sam a wry smile. "Yes. Fingal. He was a bard to Oissin, a warrior of great reknown in Scottish legends. Mendelssohn will compose a very moving piece of music, called 'Fingal's Cave,' it's part of his New Hebridies Overture." The man walked up and stood next to Sam. "I was there in 2037 when Von Brunner conducted the Berlin Philharomic -- he used interactive acoustics within the cave itself." Sam could see the rapture in the other man's face as he remembered the music. "It seemed that the heavens had opened and angels descended from upon high to sing to us." He turned to Sam and grasped his arm. Sam felt a firm yet gentle grip. "I am also very much alive, and not a hologram at all, Dr. Beckett." Sam felt his knees give away. If not for the support of the other man, he would have fallen to the ground. "You...you know who I am?" "Yes. My name is Thom. I hold the rank of Commander in the Paratemp Corp." "Tom. I have a brother named Tom." Sam said as he felt the world spin around him. Thom felt it too, but was able to ignore it. Although he gave no indication, he felt his guts twist around an icicle of absolute zero. He noticed the world take on a double image effect, and he recalled the physical descriptions of causality. "Yes. I know." Thom supported Sam to the ground and draped his woolen cloak over Sam's shoulders. "I am from your future, Dr. Beckett, and you are far from home." "My future?" Sam repeated. He didn't like how this leap was going at all, and felt more out of control than ever before. Thom nodded. "I'm from the 27th century, Dr. Beckett. And you've caused a lot of worry to a lot of people." The laughing green eyes were serious now. "We need to get you home as soon as possible. If we don't, then your future, which is my past, will cease to exist."