From: krk1@pyuxe.uucp (24220s-knights)
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
Subject: LEAPTREK - PART IV (corrected version)
Keywords: Story in 4 parts
Date: 8 Jun 92 15:48:33 GMT
Organization: Bellcore, Livingston, NJ


LEAPTREK

by Katriena Knights

Part IV

Since he had nothing else to do, Sam went straight to the conference room.  
He was trying to manage his way into the computer through the 
terminal on the table when Al popped in.

"Better be careful there, Sam," Al told him.  
"There's probably a hell of a lot of stuff 
in there that you don't want to know."

"That's not the half of it.  Think about all the 
things that have happened.  I mean, we've gone into
space, we've established relations with alien life
forms . . . it's mind-boggling.  And I don't dare look
at any of it, for fear that, if I know, something I do may cause it
never to happen."

"Well, Sam, so far you haven't been able to alter any
major historical events."

"Even so."  He paused, mulling.  The temptation was enormous,
especially since he knew there had been advances in time travel.
Finally he forced himself to turn away from the terminal
and said,  "How's Geordi?"

"He'll be all right.  That's one tough kid."

"That's about how I had him figured . . ."  
He broke off, stabbing the return key in frustration.  
"I can't figure this damn thing out."

"Why don't you just . . . talk to it."

Al had a particularly annoying manner when pointing out the obvious.  
Sam gave him a tight look.  
"Computer, I'd like to access data in the archives on quantum 
string theory and application."

"One moment, please."

Al looked impressed.  "She's much more polite than Ziggy."

"But not nearly as entertaining."

The pleasant, feminine voice spoke again.  
"There are 35 documents currently in the archives regarding 
quantum string theory.  Please specify by date or by author."

"Author, Beckett, Samuel.  Date, before . .. 1999."

Another pause.  "Five documents fit this description.  
Please consult your terminal."

Sam glanced down.  A listing of five titles had appeared.  
The first three involved theory, the last two implementation.  
The second of the implementation papers related directly 
to the construction of Ziggy, the imaging chamber and the accelerator ring.  
He chose that one.

It was a long paper, but Sam only needed bits and pieces of the 
information in it.  It galled him that he couldn't 
remember most of what he knew he had written.

"What do you think, Sam?" Al asked after a time.

"I think we can make this work."  He tapped thoughtfully on the table.  
"What does Ziggy say about the folding theory?"

"He says it's not likely."

"Okay.  Then we'll have to . . ." He broke off.  
The door to the conference room had slid open.  
Deanna Troi stood just inside it, hesitant.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Please do."

"Oh, Sam . . ."  Al, of course, had to put in his two cents worth.  
"I think she wants to get to know you a little better."

Deanna looked perplexed.  "Did Al just say something rude again?"

Sam laughed.  "How could you tell?"

"You were annoyed again."  She paused, 
involuntarily looking around the room.  "What did he say?"

"Nothing you want to hear, believe me."  He looked at Al, 
who was shaking his head.  "My friend Al is . . . intensely 
appreciative of the opposite sex."

"Oh, I see.  And you're not?"

"Well, I mean, I'm, well . . . appreciative, I just . .. 
I wouldn't word things quite the way he does."

"No, you wouldn't word them at all," Al countered.

Sam ignored him.  Deanna smiled.  "I see.  So you're a gentleman."

"I try to be."

Al snorted.  "Gentleman.  You're a prude, that's what you are, 
you're just like a little old lady."  He poked at the handlink 
and the Imaging Chamber opened behind him.  "I'm outta here.
I can't stand to watch you 
miss these opportunities.  It makes me want to cry."

The door closed before Sam could reply.  
He turned away, face in his hands, then looked apologetically at Deanna.  
Her smile was partly perplexed, partly amazed.  She shook her head.

"I've seen some very strange things in my time," she said, 
"but this is definitely among the strangest.  
You look like the captain, you sound like the captain, 
but you act and react in a totally different manner."

"Well, now that the secret's out, I must admit I'm not trying very hard."

"You say that you've . . . been in the lives of many people, 
that you've helped them change situations in their lives.  Why do you do it?"

"I have to.  I keep hoping that the next time I leap 
I'll find myself back where I belong."  He paused, shrugging.  
"I'm just trying to get home."

But Deanna was shaking her head.  Sam found his eyes 
drawn to the movement of her dark ringlets against her skin, 
then to the remarkable darkness of her eyes.  "No," she said.  
"There's more to it than that.  You were hurting for Geordi --
almost as much as I was."

"Why is that remarkable?  The man was in pain."

Deanna shook her head, frustrated at her inability to say 
what she wanted to say.  "Yes, and the rest of them -- Will, 
Beverly -- they all felt for him, they all sympathized -- 
but it was pity.  With you -- it was as if it was all happening to 
you as well as to Geordi.  So many people have that ability 
and have blocked themselves off from it.  You haven't.  
In fact, it seems that you have nurtured it."  She stopped again.  
"Reading you is almost like reading another empath, 
except you can't sense me."

Sam was bewildered.  "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought it might be an answer.  
I thought it might explain why all this has happened to you.  
You said you sometimes feel like you were chosen, but 
you don't know how, or by whom, or why.  
It just seemed to me that this might be the answer to the why.  
Because you have an uncanny ability to identify with other 
people's feelings."

Sam nodded.  "I see.  Thank you."

Some of the intensity had left the counsellor's eyes.  
"If this works, you may have saved our lives.  
I thought I owed you that much."

At a loss for words, Sam turned his gaze again to the terminal.  
From the tops of his vision he say Deanna shift again, 
gathering herself for something else.

"Dr. Beckett . . ." she started.

"Sam," he broke in.  "Just call me Sam."

"It's difficult enough for me to remember not to call you Captain Picard."

"Or _when_ not to call me Captain Picard."

She laughed.  Her smile was captivating.  
Suddenly Sam was very glad Al had left.  
"What do you really look like?"  she said.

It was not what he had expected her to ask.  
He sobered, realizing how long it had been since his own 
face had looked back at him from a mirror.  
The picture of it was becoming dim even to him.

"Computer," he said.  "Do you have a visual on Samuel 
Beckett?  Before 1999."

"One moment, please."

A pause, and then a newspaper photo appeared on the viewscreen.  
The caption under the photo said, "MIT Grad Wins Nobel Prize."

"Well, there you go," he said.  He studied the face, himself, 
taking the chance to refresh his own memory.  
he didn't want to forget that face in the swamp of 
other faces he kept seeing in all the different mirrors he encountered.

"It's not what I expected," Deanna said.  
She was smiling.  Smiling warmly, even.  

"Why?  What did you expect?"

"I don't know.  Something a little more . . . scholarly, I guess."

"You mean a geeky looking guy with greasy hair, 
thick glasses and a pocket protector?"

"Um, well, I suppose for your time period, a man with seven 
doctoral degrees would have been expected to look like that."  
She tilted her head a little.  "You know, I can see you a little.  
I mean, I can still see Picard, but now . . . "  She shook her head.  
"It's fading in and out."  She hesitated again, her scrutiny again intense.  
"It must be very hard for you, living this way."

Sam was beginning to feel very warm.  "It'll be over someday."

"Is there anyone you left behind?  Anyone waiting for you?"

"Well, there's Al, and Gooshie, and Tina, and 
Dr. Beeks, and the rest of the staff."

"No, I mean someone special.  Someone you care for."

"I don't remember."

Deanna leaned forward and laid a hand on his.  
"You're a very special person, Sam.  Don't ever forget that."

"Thank you," he mumbled.  Her hand was warm and soft.  
For a moment he wondered what might have happened if he had not 
worn the captain's face, or if she had been able to see through it 
completely.  Then the door slid open and Will Riker entered the room, 
Data and Geordi close behind him.

"Who's that?"  Riker asked, indicating the screen.

"That's me," said Sam.  Deanna had not moved her 
hand and he was suddenly very self-conscious, afraid, 
for some reason, that Riker would see and misinterpret.  
Deanna obviously felt his discomfort, for she looked at 
him with a mischievous smile, patted his hand and let it go.

"That's you?" Riker said.

"Yes," said Deanna.  "I wanted to know what he really looked like."

Data's attention was jerking from the screen to Sam and back again.  
"I take this to mean that you do not always have the appearance of 
Captain Picard."

"No, I don't."  Obviously Data, too, had been informed of Sam's
trespass into their Captain's existence.  Which was probably
for the best.

Data hesitated, considering, then looked at Sam again, head tilted.  
"I do not recall any provision for this phenomenon in the materials 
I read concerning your string theory of time travel."

"That's because there was none.  Computer, discontinue image."

The screen went black.  Data stepped to the table and took a seat.  
"I have reviewed all of the available information on your 
theory of time travel and how it was implemented," he said.  
"Your work was really quite brilliant for the time in which it was done."

"Thank you."

"In fact, I find it fascinating that, given the advanced 
nature of our current knowledge, no one has as of yet 
formally assimilated your work into current theory.  
It seems to me that your hypotheses would parallel the work of . . ."

"Data," Riker broke in.  "Can we please stick to the subject at hand?"

"He's worse than Ziggy."  Al's mumble came from behind 
Sam's left shoulder.  Sam glanced back, acknowledging, but 
Al's attention was already elsewhere.  "Oh, really?  
Well, if your technology is so advanced, 
how come you haven't figured out some way to keep your hair?"

Riker's interruption had not fazed Data in the slightest.  
"Of course, Commander.  I have evaluated the structure and 
energy requirements of the radium accelerator ring and I 
believe that, with Geordi's help, we can create a supplemental 
energy source which will enable the accelerator to place us 
back along our original timeline.  I should also be able to interface with 
Ziggy to make appropriate programming changes, which I will 
place in a directory which will erase itself after the transfer is complete."

"You're absolutely certain you can do this without damaging Ziggy?"  
Sam was beginning to feel like they were proposing brain 
surgery on his own child, and the feeling made him nervous.  
"I mean, we're playing around in my past, here.  
I don't want to . . .program myself out of existence or something."

Riker laughed tensely.  "Of course, there's always the possibility that our 
modifications are what made your project work in the first place."

"I do _not_ want to hear that," Sam said emphatically.  
"I'd like to think the work I put my whole life into had some merit."

Riker was taken aback.  Data stepped into the commander's lack of words.

"I do not believe Commander Riker intended any slight to your 
accomplishments, Dr. Beckett.  I believe his comment was an attempt at 
humor, intended to make our situation seem less serious.  
In fact, according to my analysis, your theories and their 
implementation should be functional without any interference on our part."

"Which is why we want to be sure nothing we do will change 
Ziggy as he currently exists."  This was Geordi's first 
contribution to the conversation.  "I have devised a way to 
increase the power flow to your radium accelerator ring by a
pproximately 600%."

"So she did leave us with enough raw 
materials to work our way out of this," Riker commented.

"Simply because the Romulans did not anticipate the interference of 
Dr. Beckett," Data clarified.  "I have analyzed the anomalous 
readings we encountered just before coming out of warp drive.  
These appear to have been generated by a field similar to that created by 
Project Quantum Leap, but skewed to increase the length of the 
timeline affected.  The power source was not a radium ring, but 
rather a source much like that employed by a Romulan cloaking device.  
Apparently, the Romulans assumed that, because of the antiquity 
of the theory they were making use of, we would be unable to 
determine what had occurred, and would not be able to return to our own time."

"And the anomalous readings here?" Riker said.

"Are created by a radium accelerator ring in Blue Rock, New Mexico."

Riker turned to Sam.  "Do we have contact with Captain Picard?  
What is his opinion of this course of action?"

Al removed his cigar from his mouth and blew a languid ring of smoke.  
"He wishes you'd all quit yapping and _do_ something."

"He approves," Sam relayed.

"All right.  Data, can you do this all yourself?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Then you beam down and get the job done.  
I don't want anyone to see you, and I don't want anything left 
behind that could cause any problems."

"Affirmative, Commander."

"Beckett, you check over Geordi's work and make sure there 
won't be any interface problems with your computer.  
Data, you triple check it.  Beckett, be sure Data has any and all 
security codes to get in and out of your building."  Riker stood, 
decisive, jerking his uniform tunic into place.  "Now.  
Are we absolutely certain that when we make this jump back to our own time, 
Captain Picard will be put back where he belongs?"

"Based on past experience, I would have to say yes," Sam replied.

"Based on past experience," Riker mumbled.  "I'd like to be a 
little more certain than that."

"Well, that's as certain as you're gonna get," Al put in.  
"Tell him to loosen up.  God, he's stiff even for a military man.  
Just looking at him makes me uncomfortable.  
He looks like somebody stuck a broomstick up his . . ."

"I'm afraid I can't give you any certainties."  
Sam spoke a little too loudly, trying to overpower 
Al even though no one else could hear him.  
"But I'm willing to take the risk."

"Well.  I guess we have no other choice.  You all have your orders.  
Make it so."

    ****


There was nothing more infuriating than having to wait.  
Sam had grown used to leaping into a situation, evaluating it, 
taking immediate action, and leaping back out.  To have the entire leap -- 
his fate as well as the fate of the ship and crew -- 
on someone else's shoulders was driving him crazy.

He was sitting in the command chair on the bridge 
because he didn't know what else to do.  Commander 
Riker sat next to him, nervously running his hands up and down his thighs.  
Data had been gone for twenty minutes.  To avoid problems, 
he had been instructed to check in at twenty minute intervals.  
They were waiting for the first check-in.

Deanna, seated to Sam's left, crossed her arms and settled back 
firmly into her chair.  Her lips were tight, closed up on her own unease.  
She passed a sidelong glance to Sam, then to Riker.  
Sam gave her a small smile.  Riker gave her nothing.

"Enterprise, this is Lt. Commander Data."

Riker didn't jump up out of his seat, but his abrupt 
forward movement had the same effect.  He started to open his mouth, then 
closed it, looking at Sam.

"Go ahead, Data," Sam said.

"I have completed the initial interface with the computer.  
I must say, Ziggy is quite intriguing.  
It seems almost to have emotional response, and yet is enclosed 
in a machine-like structure which . . ."

"What's the status of the interface?" Sam broke in.  
Not that he didn't enjoy listening to Data praise 
Ziggy, but there was no time for it now.

"The interface has so far been quite successful."  Data paused.  
"I think Ziggy likes me."

Riker hid a smile behind one hand.  
"How about the additional power generators?  Any problems there?"

"I am beginning the connections now.  
It appears that there will be no difficulties."

"Just don't forget the erasure programs," Sam added.

"I will not forget, Captain," Data answered.

"Check in again in another twenty minutes," Riker finished.  
"Enterprise out."  He turned to Sam, but his eyes only 
paused there a moment before going on to Troi.  "Well, so far, so good."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Troi said.  
She looked at Riker first, then settled on Sam.  
Sam felt decidedly uncomfortable.  
He had a feeling the attention Troi was giving him did not 
endear him at all to Riker.  

Riker's suddenly sour look confirmed Sam's suspicions.  
"Well, the sooner we get this over with, the better."

Deanna grinned.  Sam relaxed a little, realizing 
Deanna was not expressing a genuine interest in him, 
but was just trying to annoy Riker.  Apparently Riker 
knew it, too, and was annoyed that it was working.

"I think she likes you," Al commented.  
He was standing just to Deanna's right, 
and was not keeping his eyes forward.  "I know I like her."

"Trust me, Al, you would not be able to handle a 
woman who can read your mind," Sam muttered.  
Al gave him a dirty look.  Deanna grinned, 
knowing who he was talking to, and Riker quirked an eyebrow.

"Pardon me, Captain?"

"Never mind, Number One."

"Captain."  Worf was fiddling with his control panel, 
probably re-examining readings on the anomaly.  
"Has it been sufficiently established that this anomaly 
is not a result of enemy interference?  
I do not think it would be wise to discount that possibility."

Sam straightened in his chair.  "Well, Lieutenant, 
it has been proven beyond a doubt that the initial 
anomaly was indeed a result of enemy interference.  
However, the version which exists in this time zone 
is created by a particularly brilliant scientist who was 
experimenting with time travel, and has nothing 
whatsoever to do with the Romulans."

"'A particularly brilliant scientist?'" Al repeated. 
"Don't lay it on too thick, there, Sam."

"A scientist?" Worf said.  "Are we certain that he was 
not planted in this time zone by the Romulans?"

Sam looked back over his shoulder at the Klingon.  
His expression indicated that he was completely serious.  
To Deanna, Sam mumbled, "Is he always this paranoid?"

"Yes,"  Deanna replied.  She turned to Worf.  
"I have been in contact with the scientist, and he is quite 
willing to help.  I am certain he has no connection with the Romulans."

Worf nodded decisively.  "I will defer to your judgement then, Captain."

"Thank you, Mr. Worf."

"Captain Picard."  Data's voice, over the intercom.  
Sam was certain it had not yet been twenty minutes.

"Go ahead, Data."

"The power generators have been successfully connected, and 
should provide enough additional strength to the time bubble
to enable our movement forward in time without the additional
impact of the return from warp speed.
I have installed the erasure programs into Ziggy's main memory banks.  
As soon as the appropriate subroutine is completed, it will be erased."

"Good," Riker said.  "Prepare to beam up."

"Affirmative, Commander."

Riker turned to Sam.  "Well, this is it," he said in a low voice.  
"How will we know if it worked?"

"If this runs true to form, I should know a split second before it happens.  
Then Picard will be back, and I'll be gone."

"Off to your next mission," Deanna said, a little wistfully.

Sam shrugged.  "Or, if I'm lucky, back home."

She smiled gently and closed a hand on his arm.  "I wish you luck."

"Thank you."

"O'Brien, do we have Commander Data?"  Riker said to the air.

"Affirmative, Commander."

"All right, then, we're ready."  He nodded to Sam.

"Ensign Ro," Sam said, "modify our orbital path so
that our next sweep will take us directly through
the bubble."

"Aye, Captain."

"Engage."

"You didn't stick your finger up in the air," Al said.

"What?"  Sam was befuddled by this.

"Picard just said he always sticks his finger up in the air, like this."  
Al demonstrated.

"Go away," Sam said.

"No, I think I'll stick this one out.  I want to be sure you leap."

"Well, we'll know in a minute."  They had been roughly over
the Ukraine when Sam had given the order.  Below them now
the east coast of the United States was coming into view.

"Beautiful, isn't it, Sam?"  Al said.  "This reminds me
of my astronaut days . . . There's New Jersey.  I met my . . 
second, no, fifth . . . fifth? . . . fifth wife in
Jersey City . . ."

"I know, Al," Sam mumbled.  "You've told me this story before."

"Oh.  Well.  I never know when you're going to forget it."

"We're approaching the bubble, Captain," Ro announced.  Sam nodded.  
All eyes were on the viewscreen.  Silly, Sam thought, 
because they wouldn't be able to tell if they had made it 
or not just by looking out the window.

"Making contact with the bubble . . . now."

Sam felt it then, the indescribable little lurch in his 
stomach that told him all was well, and this was over.  
He turned to Commander Riker and nodded . . .

    ****

Captain Jean-Luc Picard straightened in his command chair.  
"Ensign Ro, where are we?"

Ro consulted her station readouts.  "On a direct heading for 
Earth, approaching high orbit."  She paused.  "Star charts indicate we are
about two hours after we left."

There was a cheer on the bridge.  Picard sank back in his chair.  "Thank God."

"Are you all right, Captain?"  Riker asked.

"I think so.  But I'll be much happier when we are safely on Earth.  
Lieutenant Worf, open a channel to Starfleet Command."

"Channel open, sir."

As the captain related the occurrences of the last 
several hours to Starfleet, Deanna Troi looked out at the 
bright starfield, suddenly sad.

"Thank you, Sam," she whispered.

Commander Riker caught her eye and smiled.  


THE END.
--------
Katriena Knights
"Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time!"
                         -- Samuel Beckett, "Waiting for Godot"