Date: Mon, 31 May 93 03:58:34 MDT From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (Bill'n'Opus'96) Message-Id: <9305310958.AA01372@banshee.vla.nrao.edu> To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: REPOST -- Future Perfect -- Part 4 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 IV "...One of the greatest fears of the Paratemp force is that of spontaneous negation...to alter the timeline as such to cause your own cessation of being..." Excerpt from Paratemp Training Manual (Internal Use Only) Temporal Index: September 18, 1999 Spatial Co-ordernates: Classified (Project Quantum Leap) "Admiral, Ziggy has got a fix on Dr. Beckett;" Gooshie's voice came through the intercom. Not a moment too soon, Al thought. He was tired of seeing not much more than a spinning green cylinder. Al belatedly realized why Ireland was called 'The Emerald Isle'. The spinning green shifted and the images stabilized. Al found himself in front of a small stone church with plain glass windows. The stone of the church was a cold grey coloration. He could see no bells or any other form of ornamentation. White puffy clouds sailed overhead, and Al heard the bleating of sheep. "Gooshie! Where the hell am I?" Al called out. "Ziggy says that you are on the isle of Iona, off the coast of Scotland, in the year 1023. There is some confusion as to the date, for there have been several changes in the formats of calendars since then and now, resulting in an offset of days. However, Ziggy has placed the date to approximately the 20th of August." "Great," Al said as he explored the area. He saw a dozen or so small hut-like buildings fashioned from undressed stone and covered with sod. As soon as he saw men walking in and out of them, only then did Al understand that this was where the people here lived. "Aw, Jeez, Sam. We gotta get you out of here." Al said as he watched the men walk about. They were clothed in simple linen tunics, no footware to be seen. Leather belts held the tunic to their bodies. All of the clothing was coarsely made, but clean and apparently well serviced. Al shuddered, thinking of Sam in this condition. "Gooshie, center me on Sam." The scene changed, but not very drastically. Al found himself on a sandy beach with rocks to the north and south, and when he turned his head, he could see the church. He figured that he was about a couple of hundred yards distant. A small party of men were waiting near the water. Al looked out to the ocean and gasped aloud. A ship was approaching, one with a huge carved prow. The single sail was blood red with the exception of a coal black raven, wings outspread. Dozens of oars dipped into the water in time. Two other ships also approached, each one similar to the first ship, but with different colored sails. "Good lord, it's a remake of 'The Vikings'!" Al cried out. Sam turned from the scene, hearing Al's voice. He saw his friend nearby, and for the first time since he leaped in, he relaxed a little. Even the presence of Thom unnerved him somewhat. Thom glanced at Sam, then looked off to where Sam was looking. "Is it Admiral Calavicci?" Thom whispered. "Al. Yes," Sam replied. "But he looks different, almost transparent." "Sam! Boy, am I glad to see you!" Al ran over to Sam. Sam and another man broke away from the group. Several of the others looked up, but the second man bent his head towards Sam, making it look like they were talking privately. "Who's this guy, Sam?" Al noticed that the other man was dressed differently than the others were. He wore a large woolen plaid cloak, pinned with an ornate clask with a purple gem the size of a small fist. "Nice rock. Good thing Maxine can't see it, or she'd take it from you." "Al," Sam didn't know where to start. "This is Tom. He's an...associate." Sam finished lamely. Thom flashed a wry grin in the direction of Al. "An associate?" "Can Al hear me?" Thom asked. He knew the answer, but he felt that Sam was more than a little upset with the way this leap was happening, so he downplayed his knowledge. "Yes," Sam and Thom had reached the rocks. Thom stood to the outside, closer to the water, shielding Sam from the cold salt spray. The other man wasn't use to this climate. "Well, Admiral Calavicci, I am another leaper -- from your future. I'm here to help Dr. Beckett get back to where he belongs." "How do I know you're not like the other leaper," Al bristled at the man, forgetting that he couldn't see or hear him. "Al wants to know how he can trust you." Sam translated for Thom. The other man nodded and bowed his head, thinking. "I understand your doubt, Admiral; probably better than you do yourself. I give you my word, also as an officer, that I am not here to hurt Dr. Beckett -- if I was, I could have done so long before now." Thom looked over his shoulder. "We need to be getting back, Dr. Beckett; the ships are almost here." The handlink squealed and Al looked at it. "Sam, I have to leave now or we'll blackout half of Texas. I'll be back as soon as I can." Sam watched the imaging room door and Al step through. "You are close friends," Thom said as they walked back. This caused Sam to smile. "Yes. Do you have anyone like Al? An observer?" "All agents outtime have a second, someone to work with or fall back on. The seconds for this mission are in York right now, Alex and Alexi. Twins. They're telepaths." They had almost reached the group of monks waiting for the ships to arrive. Thom had caught the deeper implications of Sam's words. "But to answer your question, no, I have no one like Al. No now." "'Not now'? What happened?" Sam sensed deep emotions, but Thom's face was expressionless. "She died, Dr. Beckett. Please leave it at that." Thom said. Sam looked into Thom's eyes and saw the pain there. "Do not ask me about her again." Al walked out of the imaging chamber. "Dammit, Gooshie, when can I go back in?" "Not for another several hours. We're experiencing difficulty in maintaining the lock." Gooshie looked up from the console. "After all, we are operating far outside of normal parameters." "Admiral," Ziggy's voice floated out from the orb. "Security reports a visitor, one Sara Allen Wade, Lieutenent Colonel, United States Air Force." "Is she part of the oversight committee?" Al thought. He had never heard of her before. "No. I have accessed her military records, and I must state that they are... unusual...to say the least." "How so?" "Assigned to Wright Patterson AFB, Foreign Technolgies Division after graduation from MIT in engineering and physics. Transfered as military liasion to CalTech, Lawerence Livermore, and Los Alamos in that order. Reassigned to Lackland AFB in Texas. However, there is no record of her arrival, even though there are other records to support that she was there. What is strange is that several of her cancelled checks list a Nevada bank." "Oz." Al spoke aloud. "Oz? The literary reference?" Ziggy asked. "No. It's part of Area 51 -- the ultra-secret development area in Nevada. Oz is a subset of Area 51, and it's so black that it makes a black hole shine like the sun." Al puffed on his cigar. "Tell Security to let her into the outer waiting room. I'd better go change into my uniform." As Al walked out of the control room, Gooshie and Ziggy both heard him humming a little tune. "The theme from 'Ghostbusters'?" Ziggy's lights twirled about. "The colonel's a spook," Gooshie replied.