Date: Sat, 5 Jun 93 11:42:14 MDT
From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (This space for rent)
Message-Id: <9306051742.AA03340@banshee.vla.nrao.edu>
To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com
Subject: Future Perfect -- Part 9

				Future Perfect

				   Part IX

"...It is not manditory for paratemp agents to be enhanced; however,
past experience has proven that an enhanced agent stands a greater
chance of returning alive from a mission..."

Introduction to Paratemporal Mission Guidelines


Temporal Index:  August 22, 1023
Spatial Co-ordernates:	6 degrees West, 56 degrees 30 minutes North, Terra
			(Isle of Iona, off the coast of Mull, Scotland)


Thom listed slightly as he made his way carefully back to the cell where
Sam was at.  His belt pouch was heavier by far with gold and silver
rings and other pieces of jewelry, and his ale skins were empty.  He
snickered to himself about the poor Norsemen.  They should never play
chess against someone with a biocomp.

"Thom."  Sara appeared.  She was wearing her duty uniform, and was giving
him a disapproving look.

"Ah, Sara.  I take it the good Admiral has trotted off to bed?"

"Yes.  Dr. Beckett is still alright.  I just came to check up on you, and
here I find you staggering around drunk."

"Shhh.  I'm not drunk, I'm just pretending that I am."  Thom smiled a little
too large.  "'Sides, twas the Norsemen who did most of the drinking -- and
talking."

Sara rolled her eyes heavenward in an appeal to higher powers.  "Why me."

*** And us *** Alex's voice waifed in.  Thom ignored the telepath.

"Well, what did they say?"

"There are several men in Siward's pocket.  I expect one of them to make a
move soon.  So get back to Dr. Beckett.  I'll be there shortly."  Sara
winked out as Thom slipped on a wet rock where she had been.  "Dammit!  I
hate it when those holograms do that!"

Sara winked back suddenly.  "Thom!  Get to Beckett! Assassin!"  She winked
out.  Thom dropped the drunken stagger.

<<< VR >>> Thom commanded his biocomp.  The multiphased array processor
stored in his optic nerve went into action.  Normally, it only ran on
normal vision unless activated for data transfer or other routines.  The
processor scanned through Thom's pupil several different frequencies, then
interlaced the information together.

The effect on Thom was from a dimly lit, rainy night to a view as clear as
day.  Previous images scanned and stored by the biocomp were overlayed
with infrared and light-enhanced imaging.  Thom bounded over the wet rocks,
heading for the bee hive cell.

Sara, for her part, was trying to wake Dr. Beckett up.  She, too, cursed her
holographic limitation, and was reduced to yelling at Sam.  This proved to
be singularly ineffective.

"Ziggy, can you project infrared?"

"Yes, Commander."  The scene switched to heat patterns.  Sara frowned.

"Damn.  He's going into hypothermia.  Where's Thom?"  Sara watched as the
assassin pulled out a sharp knife and placed it against Sam's neck.

"Twenty meters...ten meters...five, four, three, two, one..." Ziggy
counted down.  Sara suddenly saw an arm reach in and grab the assassin
by the belt and yank him outside.

Thom dropped into a basic fighting stance once he pulled the man
outside.  The man snarled and spun, lashing out with the knife and
reaching for his sword.  He recognized Thom and smiled, unsheathing
his sword.

"I'll send you to the God you worship first, priest;" he said as he
lunged with the knife and slashed with the sword.

Thom let his biocomp take over.  Within a tenth of a second, the 
computer had analyzed the attack and had scanned it's database for
unarmed versus armed edged weapon.  It then sent the proper impulses
down the biofiber-optic nervous system.  Priority was given to the
survival of Thom over all other things.

Thom ran his hands up the knife arm of the Norseman, one on the inside
and the other outside.  Halfway between the wrist and elbow he clapped,
hard.  Thom felt the bones break like dry twigs.  His right hand
continued up the arm towards the neck, forming a wedge.  At the last
fraction of a second, his hand snapped up and in, crushing the attackers'
trachea.  His left hand came around and smashed into the right temple
of the attacker, denting the metal helmet and driving bone fragments into
the brain, killing the man instantly.  The attacker dropped like a sack of
potatoes, twitching slightly, then he was still.  The combat was over in
under a second.

"Effective."  Sara looked at the body.  "Dr. Beckett let the fire go
out, he is suffering from first stage hypothermia."

"Ok.  I'll see to him, then I'll go over our would be assassin."  Thom
crawlled inside the cell.  The air was chill.  He muttered to himself
as he placed several small lumps of peat in the fire pit.  He pulled out
his phaser and fired it at the organic material which burst into flames.
Thom then ran his tricorder over Sam.  He touched the cool skin, which
was slightly clammy.  He broke out the simple field medikit and administered
the drugs that the tricorder suggested.  He then pulled off his uniform
overjacket and covered Sam with it, placing the plaid over the jacket.
Satisfied that Sam would be alright, Thom slipped back outside.

"No one has come near.  How is Dr. Beckett?"  Sara asked.  Thom begin
to go through the attacker's clothing.

"He'll be fine," rain seeped in through Thom's turtleneck.  He found a
pouch and opened it up.  Several items of silver glimmered in the
dim light, along with a slip of parchment.  Thom returned to the cell
and pulled out the parchment.  A simple map of Iona, with an "x" at the
abbot's cell.  "No name.  Damn."

"Did you expect a signed and sealed message from Siward?" Sara asked.
Thom shook his head.  "No, but it would have been nice."  He dumped the
silver coins in his hands.  "A lot of silver in this time."

*** Enough to set a man up with a longboat *** Alex sent.  Thom knew that
the telepath was "looking" though his eyes.  He picked up a coin and
looked at it.

*** From Alfred the Great era, roughly two hundred years old.  Possibly
a family heirloom. ***

"Then what would a simple Norseman be doing with it?"  Thom spoke.

*** He wouldn't.  An earl, however, would.  There is your link, Thom,
to Siward.  Too bad we are too far away from you, Alexi and me could
link through you to the body and get the memory from the corpse. ***

Thom shuddered.  "Thanks, but I'm just as glad that you are in Dunkeld."

*** I understand. *** Thom felt Alex drift into the background.  Thom
shuddered again.

"Ghouling?"  Sara asked.  Thom nodded.  Ghouling was one of the least
desirable things that telepaths could do.  Had they been closer, Thom
would have tried it, as distasteful as it was.

"This is enough proof for me that Siward is behind everything.  I'll
speak to MacBeth in the morning.  I'll frabricate something about winning
it in chess."  Thom put the coin away and went back outside.  "I'll toss the
body in the surf.  It'll wash up on shore.  The wounds do look like a body
battered on the rocks.  This will also give a warning to any other
would be assassin."  Thom picked up the body effortlessly.  "Watch over
Dr. Beckett until I return," he ordered Sara.  She nodded once, and 
had Ziggy switch to infrared.

"Ziggy.  Is the broach still expanding?"

"Yes, but the rate dropped to almost zero as soon as Commander Thom
killed the assassin," Ziggy reported.  "It is fluctuating as we speak."

Sara relaxed for the first time in several days.  "I think we've
done it."