Return-Path: krk1@pyuxe.uucp Path: bridge2!mips!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!walter!porthos!pyuxe!krk1 From: krk1@pyuxe.uucp (24220s-knights) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: LEAPTREK - PART III Keywords: Story in 4 parts Message-ID: <1992Jun8.154746.22575@porthos.cc.bellcore.com> Date: 8 Jun 92 15:47:46 GMT Sender: netnews@porthos.cc.bellcore.com (USENET System Software) Organization: Bellcore, Livingston, NJ Lines: 614 LEAPTREK by Katriena Knights PART III Deanna Troi shook her head in frustration. "None of this makes any sense at all." "Tell me about it," Al mumbled. "No, no, wait a minute," Geordi broke in. "I think I get it." He faced Sam squarely. "If you're in contact with the real Captain Picard, then you can prove it." Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose I could. Al, are we in contact with Picard?" "Not at the moment. He's probably flirting with Tina. I'll be back." As Al slipped out the Imaging Chamber door, Troi protested again. "He's talking to thin air and you believe him?" "I don't know," Geordi replied. "Do you sense any . . . insanity? Dishonesty?" Troi calmed, looking at Sam. Sam found her scrutiny unnerving at best. "He believes what he says is the truth, and he does not feel any hostility towards us. Beyond that . . ." Sam looked from Troi to Geordi and back. Some pieces were falling into place. "Wait a minute. What does he mean do you sense anything? You're telepathic or something?" "No. I'm not telepathic. I'm an empath. I'm only half Betazoid." Her tone indicated she had explained this more times than anyone could count. "Picard didn't tell us that. He _knew_ you would figure it out, so he didn't tell us." Sam didn't know whether to be angry or impressed, so instead he turned his attention to the problem at hand. "Al went to get Picard. He'll be back in a minute. In the mean time, is there someplace you can look, I don't know, some history files or something, where there might be some record of Project Quantum Leap? I wrote a good number of papers, as I remember." "Computer," Geordi said. "Do you have anything on a Sam Beckett?" A voice, apparently from nowhere, said, "Working." "What's going on?" "The computer's looking," Geordi replied. "You have a voice activated computer? Cool." "What's so great about that?" Al had returned. "Ziggy's voice activated." "Yeah, but this is a lot bigger than Ziggy. Al's back," he added to the others by way of explanation. "Beckett, Samuel." The voice came from overhead, a pleasant though sedate woman's voice. "There are two entries in the history files. First entry: Beckett, Samuel. Born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1906. Shall I continue with this entry?" "No, that's the wrong one," Sam said. "Go to the next one." "Beckett, Samuel. Born 1956, Elk Ridge, Indiana. Shall I continue with this entry?" "That's it. Um . . . Could you please skip a death date, if it's recorded?" "Affirmative. Beckett, Samuel. Born 1956, Elk Ridge, Indiana. Received seven doctoral degrees from MIT, including quantum physics, medicine and music. Received Nobel Prize in physics, 1993. Best known for development of Quantum String Theory of time travel. Founded Project Quantum Leap in 1995. Project involved time travel within the lifetime of the traveller. For further details, I will have to consult the archives. Shall I do so?" "Not yet," Geordi said. "Can you tell us the exact location where Project Quantum Leap was built?" "In the vicinity of Blue Rock, New Mexico." "Thank you." "The computer doesn't know your middle name, either," Al put in. Sam chose to ignore the comment. "Do you have Picard there?" "Yeah, he's here." "He's here," Sam said. Troi frowned. "If the captain is here, why can I not sense his presence?" "Because he's not _here_ here -- he's four years in the future. I just have contact with him through Al." "Can you see him?" "No, I can't. I can see Al, but Ziggy can't put out enough power to allow me to see Picard, too, because he's using so much power to get Al's signal to me." "Who's Ziggy?" LaForge put in. "Ziggy is the computer that runs Project Quantum Leap." "But what . . ." "Wait a minute, Geordi," Troi broke in. "I want to know if he really is in contact with the captain, or if he's just standing there talking to himself." Geordi gestured for her to proceed. Troi settled herself in her chair and regarded Sam intently. "God, is she cute." Al was looking just as intently back at Troi. "What was that?" Troi demanded. Sam was puzzled. "What was what?" "I sense irritation." Impressed, Sam said, "Yes, a little. Al just said something rude." Sam was no empath, but he could tell Troi was getting annoyed. "I want to talk to the captain." "Deanna, you have done very well," Al said suddenly. "What?" "Tell her that, Sam. It's what Baldy just said." "Picard says, 'Deanna, you have done very well.'" "And?" Sam waved for Al to continue. It was awkward, running the conversation in relay form, but they had done similar things before. "Deanna," Picard continued, "I deliberately did not mention your empathic abilities because I had hoped you would ascertain what was happening. Obviously, you have done so." Deanna looked slightly abashed. "Actually, Captain -- if I am, indeed, speaking to the captain -- I wouldn't have realized anything was amiss if Geordi hadn't felt something strange was gong on." "Commander LaForge? How did he come to that conclusion? Yeah," Al added for himself. "I can understand the telepathic thing, but what tipped _him_ off?" Geordi tapped his VISOR. "I see different wavelengths than sighted people. The image I was seeing of the captain seemed like it was coming in on another wavelength. It's difficult to explain to someone who can't see it. Then when I was in sickbay and Dr. Crusher's scanner read the wrong blood type . . . well, that's when I went to Counsellor Troi." "Nice job, Geordi," Picard said, though coming from Al's mouth it didn't sound very complimentary. Sam retranslated. "I hadn't thought of that. But I suppose I should have after the other times your VISOR has helped us. Like with the analysis of the shielding on Moab IV. But it seems we make more use of your talents, Counsellor, such as on Vegra II when you were able to help save most of the away team as well as yourself and Ben from Armus. But it was a pity we lost Tasha Yar." Al paused. "Is that enough?" "Was that from you or from Picard?" Sam asked. "From me. You know how much I hate this kind of thing." Judging by the obvious softening of Deanna Troi's features, Sam guessed that she had been convinced. "Do you need to hear anymore?" he asked her. "No," she said quietly. "No, I don't think so. But there is one more thing I would like to ask." "And that is?" "What course of action does the captain recommend?" Sam watched Al nod and concentrate for a time, then Al supplied the answer. "He would like to see Commander Riker apprised of the situation so that, if the need arises, he will not hesitate to make crucial command decisions. Then he would suggest that Commander LaForge do the diagnostics on the engines, as planned, and that you attempt to recreate the jump through the anomaly . . . Which is about what I would have recommended," Sam finished. Deanna was studying him intently again. "I sense in you an honest desire to help us," she said. "I believe you." Sam smiled a little. "I have to help you," he said. "Otherwise I may never get home." * * * * " . . . Now let me see if I have this right. This man travels through time by taking the place of people who exist on that timeframe?" "Apparently, yes." Deanna was more amused than annoyed by Riker's seeming inability to comprehend the situation. Sam merely sat calmly by, behind Picard's face, adding nothing. LaForge had departed earlier to begin the diagnostics on the engines. "And he has no control over where he goes, or who he displaces." "None whatsoever." "But he's in contact with 1999 through a person who we can't see, and this person has been relaying messages from the _real_ Captain Picard, who is also in 1999, while we are in 1995?" "Yes." Arms crossed over his chest, the tall commander stood chewing over the thought through a long silence. Finally, then, he turned his gaze to Sam. There was a look of slowly dawning realization in his grey eyes. "When you hit your head. That was when it happened. Am I right?" "You're close," Sam answered. "It was a split second before that." Riker nodded. He was already mulling again, weighing implications. "There's one thing I don't understand, though." "What's that?" Troi prompted. "If the anomaly which we are dealing with now is indeed being produced by your Project Quantum Leap, or Ziggy, or whatever -- then what produced the initial effect in our present that threw us back here?" "And that, of course," Sam said, "is a very good question. Al is checking right now to see if, theoretically, our initial startup of the accelerator could have produced some kind of folding effect . . ." He was broken off by the sharp bleeping of Riker's communicator. "Commander Riker, this is LaForge." "Go ahead, Geordi." "We've got some problems here. I think we'd better discuss this in person." "We'll be in the conference room in ten." **** Geordi's hands would not stop shaking. The diagnostics results were blinking on the viewscreen in the conference room, red and yellow and green, blinking and blinking, and all he could think about or see was Lara. Lara asking him question after question about the engines, obsessed with details of function, devouring information with a hunger that rivaled his own. It was this more than anything else that had brought them together so quickly, so intensely. He had told her things about his engines he had never told anyone else. And he had given her the most valuable thing he had ever possessed -- his diary, where he documented every change, every modification, every emergency backup system he had ever installed on the Enterprise. Now his mind replayed the scene again and again -- her eagerness, the almost frightened, reverent way she had taken the disc from his hand -- and he felt such a sick sense of betrayal he thought for a moment he was going to vomit, or to weep. Deanna, of course, sensed it as soon as she walked into the room -- probably before. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off with a sharp jerk of his head. This was not the time. The whole, sordid story would come out soon enough. Riker and the man, Sam Beckett, who did and did not look like Captain Picard, followed the Counsellor into the room. "Are you all right, Geordi?" Riker asked. "No, I'm not," Geordi shot back. He gestured to the screen. "None of us are." Sliding into a chair, the commander squinted at the screen. "What have you got?" Geordi swallowed. The sound was so loud he was certain they all must have heard it. Deanna was watching him closely. He couldn't bear to meet her gaze. Looking at Beckett gave him a headache. So he focused on the screen and its damning blips of red and green. "If we try to go to warp speed, the anti-matter containment system will fail." Riker's eyes widened. "How long will it take you to correct that?" Geordi bit the inside of his lip fiercely. "I can't." "What do you mean you can't?" The question, sharp as an accusation, made Geordi bite his lip until he tasted blood. One hand curled into a fist on the table. "Every move I could have made has been anticipated. Every backup circuit in the system has been blown. The only way to repair this is with an entirely new control panel." "Well, do we have one?" "We did. We don't anymore. As far as I can tell, it was destroyed with a phaser." "Well, can we replicate one?" "We could, except several vital substances have been purged from the replicator stores." "Sabotage," said Beckett quietly. Riker threw himself out of his chair, passing a look of daggers at their time-travelling refugee. "No kidding. Who in the hell could have done this?" A hand brushed against Geordi's arm -- Deanna's, of course. He kept himself focused on the screen, on Riker's anger. "There are only three people on this ship who possess sufficient knowledge," Geordi said quietly. "Myself, Commander Data, and Ensign Kylaree Lara." "Who?" Riker demanded. "Ensign Lara is new to Engineering," Deanna put in. "She transferred to the Enterprise from the USS Asimov six months ago. Geordi was training her on engine maintenance." "How could a raw ensign manage something like this?" _Here it is_, Geordi thought. _Confession time._ He still couldn't believe this was happening. Not Lara. Not Kylie. It wasn't possible. "She had access to my diaries, Commander." Riker stared at him. Geordi saw the same sense of betrayal in Riker's eyes that he felt in the pit of his own stomach. "You gave her your diaries? Six months on board and you gave her your diaries? What were you thinking? What in the hell were you thinking?" Geordi gave back silence. Slowly, Riker began to nod. "So that's it. Well, LaForge, that's a damned irresponsible way to behave." "Number One!" The familiar voice of the captain sliced through the argument. "This is not the time for recriminations. And I don't think you can say you haven't been guilty of the same crime." Silence filled the room. Geordi and the others gaped at Beckett. Their response to the voice had been automatic; now they did not know whether to feel foolish or angry. "Sorry," Beckett finally said. "Picard thought it was getting out of hand, and he asked me to step in." He paused, cleared his throat. "I think we should look at how we can get out of this situation rather than trying to determine whose fault it is." "He's right, Will," said Deanna. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose he is." Riker sat down again, defeated. "So what do we do?" "We leap you back," said Beckett. All eyes turned to him, but he was batting a hand at an empty space next to him. "No, Al, shut up a minute. I think I've got this figured out." "Well, please elaborate," Riker prompted. "The theory behind the Quantum Leap accelerator is to enable time travel within the lifetime of the traveler. So, if you are displaced out of your native timestream, the tendency should be to throw you forward, back into your own timestream." Riker was skeptical. "I don't know. Your movement in time has been thoroughly randomized. How do we know we'll end up where we're supposed to be? Or that we won't end up like you, displacing somebody else? I mean, we could end up as Ferengi or something." "Well, surely your technology is advanced enough that you could make some improvements on my efforts. Is there anyone aboard who is well-versed in time theory?" "Data knows about everything there is to know as far as current theory. I don't know if he would have any knowledge of something as outdated as your work." A flash of strangely Picard-like irritation moved over Beckett's face. "Well, why don't we ask him?" he said tightly. "We will," Riker answered, terse. "First we have a saboteur to deal with." He tapped his communicator. "Riker to Lieutenant Worf." There was a pause, then Worf's dark voice answered, "Worf here." "Send a security team to apprehend Ensign Kylaree Lara. Take her to . . ." "Commander," Geordi broke in quietly. "Hold a moment, Worf. What is it, LaForge?" "I want to see her first." "I hardly think that would be appropriate." "Please, Commander. All I ask for is a few minutes." Riker hesitated, his eyes moving automatically to the captain for confirmation or denial. Beckett gave none. Finally, the commander tapped the communicator again. "Worf, belay that order for fifteen minutes, then proceed." "Affirmative, Commander." "All right, Geordi," Riker said. "You've got fifteen minutes." "Thank you, Commander." **** "Picard and Ziggy both think you're on to something." Al had left the imaging chamber when Sam had outlined his plan for setting the _Enterprise_ back on the right timeline, and popped back in just as Geordi walked out the door. "But Ziggy says you're going to need a good bit more power, and somebody will have to do some reprogramming to pull it off. And whatever programming was changed will have to be changed back to keep from interfering with our future. Or past. Or whatever." "Well, I'm assuming Data can handle that?" Sam put in. Al looked at the empty spot where Sam knew Picard was standing and nodded. "Picard says yes." "But how do we get him there?" "We beam him down," said Riker. "We pin down the exact coordinates of the source of this anomaly. >From there, he can determine if it is, indeed, Ziggy, interface with it, and do whatever has to be done." "Him," Sam said. "What?" "Interface with 'him.' Not 'it.' Ziggy is a 'him.'" Riker was dumbfounded. "It's a computer." "So is Data, and you call it him." "Data is an android. I hardly think . . ." "Riker, LaForge." Geordi's voice came tight and broken. "I think you'd better come down here." "Where are you, Geordi?" "Ensign Lara's quarters." The look Riker gave Troi did not make Sam optimistic about what they were going to find there. The commander started for the door, indicating with a jerk of his head that the others should follow. "We're on our way." **** She had, at least, done it cleanly. Sam did not know what else to think as he stood there, useless, watching Beverly Crusher run a scanner over the body. The dead woman was beautiful, with deep red hair and very pale skin. Her eyes had been closed when they came in, but somehow Sam was sure they must be green. She lay on a couch on her back, her arms crossed over her chest. She wore a red dress. The room smelled of roses, but there were no flowers to be seen. "It was poison," Dr. Crusher announced. "A highly potent strain often used by Romulans. My guess is it was taken voluntarily." Geordi had moved away from the rest of them, standing by the wall with his back turned. From the edge of his vision, Sam saw Deanna move to touch him, saw Geordi jerk away from her touch as if afraid hr hand would burn him. Deanna retreated. Her eyes were brimming, and Sam knew the pain was not her own. His own throat tightening painfully, Sam turned away. Eyes brushed over him, he could feel them, looking and turning away. Beverly's scrutiny was particularly intense. Captain or no, he wore the captain's face, and habit made them look to him for guidance. "I don't understand what's going on here," Riker mumbled, partly to Sam, partly to himself. "She was a Starfleet officer. Tested, scanned and verified. How could this happen?" Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I . . ." "Hey, Sam. What's this?" Al had been nosing through the room, peering at and putting his fingers through things. Now he was pointing to the computer terminal, which was on. A single word flashed blue on the screen: "Geordi." "Commander LaForge," Sam said gently. "There's something here for you." Geordi started at him for a moment, as if he could not remember who he was talking to. "What is it?" he mumbled. "I don't know. Maybe an answer." Geordi's approach was hesitant. Sam imagined he was wondering if he would be within his rights to ask the others to leave. In the end he said nothing, but went to the terminal and touched the keypad. Sam admired him for it. They all had a right to know what had happened, but that would have been easy for Geordi to ignore, and his selfishness would have been easy to forgive, under the circumstances. Ensign Lara's face appeared on the screen, beautiful and alive, but very pale. Her eyes were, indeed, green. Her voice bore a trace of accent, one Sam did not recognize. "Geordi . . ." she started. The word trembled and broke off. She looked down, hardened her mouth, looked back up again. "I don't know what to say to you. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I couldn't go on, knowing what I had to do. I won't kill you like they said I must, not any of you. You can make a life here -- I can't take that from you. You can never go back. I did make certain of that, so they will never know I didn't carry out all of their orders." She paused, blinking back the tears that were trying to come. "Look at my records, Geordi. Two years ago I disappeared during a furlough. I came back and passed all the tests, but that was because the Romulans made sure I would. They have my daughter, Geordi. They took her from me. I'll never see her again but at least they'll let her go. This was the condition. I'm sorry, Geordi. I shouldn't have told you any of this but I thought I owed you an explanation. I do care about you." She stopped. Her lips were trembling. "Goodbye, Geordi." The image in the screen reached forward and the screen went black. "So that was it," Geordi murmured. "She sacrificed us to the Romulans in exchange for her child. And she used me to do it." The silence in the room was deep and painful. Beverly opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. Finally Sam laid a hand on Geordi's shoulder. "We'll get out of this, Geordi," he said. "We know something the Romulans don't." Geordi met his gaze and nodded. Something in his face had hardened into determination. Behind them, the door slid open, and Worf and two security guards stepped into the room. "What's happened?" Worf demanded. "You can return to your stations," Riker informed him. "I'm afraid you're not needed here anymore." The Klingon hesitated, looking as if he wanted to press on with more questions. Riker raised his eyebrows and nodded toward the door. Worf gave a decisive nod and departed. "Let's go," Sam said to the others. "I think Geordi needs a little time." "I'll stay with him," said Al, "make sure he's okay." Sam nodded. The group left the room as quietly as possible. Outside, Riker turned to Beverly. "Dr. Crusher, I'd like a full autopsy report and a copy of Lara's personal files to deliver to Starfleet when we get back." He looked at Sam. "I'm gong to get together with Data and be sure both of us are briefed. Counsellor, Captain, I recommend we meet again in thirty minutes to finalize a plan of action." "Agreed," said Sam. -------- Katriena Knights "Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time!" -- Samuel Beckett, "Waiting for Godot"