Message-Id: <199301061907.AA20499@tbird.cc.bellcore.com>
From: krk1@pyuxe.cc.bellcore.com (knights,katriena r)
Date:  6 Jan 1993  13:57 EST
Subject: LeapTrek II, chapter 1


LEAPTREK II
CHAPTER ONE

Al was sleeping when the call came from the control room that 
the leap had completed.  He hastily threw on a robe and ran 
for the waiting room.  He was somewhat worried about the 
leap; the last one had been tricky to say the least, and he'd 
been concerned that Sam might get lost in the process of 
reshuffling the time continuums they had managed to cross to 
meet up with Jean-Luc Picard and the Enterprise.  So he was 
relieved to know that they had received another leapee, but 
at the same time he couldn't help but wonder if Sam had made 
it safely to his destination.

"Who is it, Ziggy?" he called out, rounding the corner to the 
waiting room.  There was no answer.  "Ziggy!"  he called 
again.  Still silence.

Verbena Beeks was just emerging from the waiting room.

"Ziggy's communications circuits are off-line," she said.  
"Gooshie and Tina are working on it."

"Oh, wonderful.  So we don't know who he is."

"Well, as a matter of fact, we do," said Verbena.  She looked 
back at the closed door.  "Why don't you go in and talk to 
him?  I think you're going to find this very interesting."

Al shrugged.  Usually, Verbena discouraged contact with the 
leapees.  But since Ziggy was down, it seemed appropriate to 
Al that he be allowed to intervene this time.  He opened the 
door and went in.

The man looked like Sam Beckett.  They all looked like Sam 
Beckett.  But this version stood very stiff, solid in his 
stance in spite of the bleary look in his eyes.  When he saw 
Al he took a step forward, a spark of indignation igniting on 
his face.

"I hope," he said firmly, "that you are prepared to face the 
consequences of abducting a Starfleet officer."

Al frowned.  "Well, I don't know."

"Then maybe you should have looked into that before you did 
it.  Now, who the hell are you and what makes you think you 
have the right to beam me right out of my quarters?"

"I'm Admiral Albert Calavicci," Al replied.  "And who the 
hell are you?"

The man straightened even more; a feat Al would not have 
thought possible.  "Commander William T. Riker of the 
Federation Starship Enterprise."

"Oh, boy," said Al.

****

Sam stared at the mirror, shocked.  The bearded man with dark 
hair and grey-blue eyes was not a stranger.

"Riker?" Sam said.  "Commander Riker?  What in the . . ."

He broke off.  It wasn't possible.  Data had reprogrammed 
Ziggy to send the Enterprise and her crew back -- or forward, 
rather -- to the 24th century, safely out of Sam's zone of 
influence.  Yet there was Riker, staring Sam in the face, 
clad in a red and black Starfleet uniform, surrounded by a 
room full of gadgets Sam could not make heads or tails of.  
Something had definitely gone awry.

And he wasn't going to be granted any time to think about it.  
A commanding voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Number One, report to the bridge immediately."

Sam had the distinct feeling that this was the captain, whose 
persona he had only recently vacated.

"I'm on my way," Sam said automatically, and went to find the 
door.

That problem solved, he found the nearest turbolift and asked 
to be taken to the bridge.  In a way, it was comforting to be 
in familiar surroundings, even though he still didn't have 
the hang of the 24th century technology.  At least he didn't 
need Al to tell him who he was.

On the bridge, the captain was standing in front of his 
chair, talking in low tones to Deanna Troi, the ship's 
counselor.  Sam hesitated.  There was a good chance that 
Deanna, with her empathic abilities, would be instantly aware 
of Sam's presence.  Sam analyzed himself for a moment, making 
sure he felt confident and in control.  As long as he kept 
his emotions in line with what Riker would normally feel, he 
should be relatively safe.

Picard looked up.  "Number One," he said.  It was strange to 
Sam to be looking at a face which he had recently seen 
looking back at him out of mirrors.  "I need you to take the 
bridge.  My presence has been requested planetside to 
finalize the negotiations."

"Aye, sir," said Sam.  He took the command chair as Picard 
left the room.

"So much for a relaxing afternoon with your trombone," Deanna 
said to him.  Sam glanced at her.  She was smiling warmly.  
He had suspected, and was beginning to believe, that there 
was a great deal of affection between these two people.  
Well.  He'd have no difficulty faking that emotion.  He had 
developed a certain affection for Deanna, himself.

"Well, duty calls," he said.  "It could be worse."

"Commander Riker." The voice came from the bridge intercom, 
and Sam was fairly certain it belonged to O'Brien.  "We have 
a guest requesting permission to board."

"Oh, really?  Who is it?"

There was a pause.  "It's Counselor Troi's mother, sir."

Sam looked at Deanna, eyebrows up.  Deanna put her face in 
one hand.  "It's worse."

****

A cup of hot coffee and a Wynton Marsalis tape served to calm 
Commander Riker considerably.  Al went to get dressed, 
leaving Verbena with the Commander.  When Al returned to the 
waiting room, the atmosphere was much more civil.

"So," said Riker.  "You're Al?  And this is where Captain 
Picard was two weeks ago while your friend Beckett was on the 
ship?"

"That's right," Al said.  He turned to Verbena.  "Is Ziggy 
back up yet?"

"I believe so, yes."

Al inspected his handlink, making sure it was charged.  
"Ziggy, can you tell us where Sam is right now?  Location and 
date?"

The computer's feminine voice seemed a little slow, but 
otherwise no worse for the malfunction.  "Dr. Beckett is 
currently aboard the starship Enterprise, in a high orbit 
above Earth.  The date is . . . uncertain, but approximately 
400 years in the future."

Al glanced at Riker.  Riker shrugged.

"That's about right."

"Yeah, maybe, but Ziggy's not supposed to be able to move Sam 
out of his own life loop.  Unless . . ."  He tapped the 
handlink reflectively.  "You guys hang tight.  I'm going to 
talk to Gooshie."

When he found Gooshie on the floor under Ziggy's main memory 
banks, Al knew his guess had been right.

"What's going on, Gooshie?"

"Nothing normal, that's for sure.  Ziggy's acting very 
strange.  I can't find anything in the software, so I thought 
it might be a hardware problem."  He sat up.  "Ziggy's 
accessing a lot more power than he should be."

"Well, I guess that explains why Sam is sitting in the 24th 
century."

"What?"

"You heard me."  Al frowned.  "I have a real funny feeling I 
know what's going on.  Check that software again, and look 
for hidden files.  And look damn hard.  I've got to go talk 
to Sam."

In the waiting room, the atmosphere had gotten even more 
comfortable.  Riker and Verbena appeared to be having quite 
an involved conversation.  Al elected to leave them alone, 
and went on to the Imaging Chamber.

The door opened at his request, so at least one thing was 
normal.  Inside, Al was confronted with the image of the 
Enterprise bridge.  Lt. Commander Data was right in front of 
him.  Al shivered a little.  The pasty-faced android gave him 
the willies.  He walked through the image to approach the 
command chair.

Now there was a much nicer representative of the future: 
Deanna Troi.  She certainly didn't give Al the willies.  Sam, 
hiding behind Commander Riker's aura, was talking to her.

"Well, if I had a choice,  I'd say no," Deanna was saying.  
"But she _is_ my mother.  And since the negotiations are 
concluding and we're basically just on shore leave, I don't 
see any excuse not to let her on board."

Sam nodded.  "Permission granted."  He looked at Al then.

"We need to talk, Sam.  We've got big problems."

Sam's mouth tightened and he stood.  "I'll be in the ready 
room."

Deanna nodded.

Al followed Sam to the little room off the main bridge.  Sam 
sat down behind the desk.

"Is it my imagination," Sam said, "or has something gone more 
than a little caca?"

"Caca doesn't even come close.  Ziggy is acting very weird."

"Weird like how?"

"Like he's pulling in enough power to light Cleveland for a 
week.  And like he's leaped you into the 24th century."

Sam was shocked.  "You mean I'm operating on their timeline?  
No time bubble this time?"

"That appears to be the case."

"But that's impossible."

"Well, maybe not.  If you'll recall, Data reprogrammed Ziggy 
so we could send the Enterprise back where it belonged."

"But those programs were supposed to automatically erase 
themselves."

"But what if they didn't?  What if Ziggy's been playing with 
them since 1995, and now he's pulling them out and using 
them?"

"Oh, boy.  We could be in big trouble."

"We certainly could."

"So what am I supposed to do?  Is there something here I can 
fix so I can leap out of here?"

"I don't know.  We're talking to Riker, so maybe he'll have 
some ideas.  In the mean time, just . . . enjoy the ride, I 
guess.  Bye-bye."

"Enjoy the ride," Sam grumbled as Al departed.  "Yeah, easy 
for you to say."

He gave himself a minute to collect himself, then returned to 
the bridge.  Deanna was pacing.  She looked up as Sam came 
through the door.

"Are you ready?"

Sam shook his head in puzzlement.  "Ready for what?"

"Well, Mother _is_ an Ambassador.  We really should go meet 
her."

"Yeah, yeah, all right."  He struggled for a moment, trying 
to remember who was third in command.  He had no clue.  Data, 
however, had turned a look toward him that Sam was relatively 
sure was expectant.  "Mr. Data, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir," said the android, and stepped to the command 
chair.

Deanna was wearing a mischievous smile when they stepped into 
the turbo lift. 

"What?"  Sam demanded.  He was beginning to get annoyed at 
the proceedings.  He had a feeling some of Riker was rubbing 
off on him.

"You don't have to be so nervous," Deanna said.  "I'm quite 
certain Mother has given up on the idea of marrying you."

Sam turned his eyes to the ceiling.  "Oh . . . boy."

****

"You can't think of anything.  Not one thing."

Riker, obviously annoyed by Al's prodding, flung himself out 
of the chair and began to pace.  "No.  I can't think of 
anything."

"Come on," Al insisted.  "Surely somebody like you has done 
_something_ to screw up your life.  Are you sure there are no 
women out to kill you?"

"No more than there are out to kill you," Riker shot back.

Al winced, taking a puff of his cigar.  "You're in big 
trouble, then, kid."

Verbena, who had been hiding laughter behind one long, dark 
hand, decided it was time to step in.

"Gentlemen, we have a problem here.  I think we can cooperate 
to solve it.  Now, Will, what you have to understand is that,
 in the past, Sam has been able to leap out of a situation by 
correcting something that has gone wrong in someone's life.  
All we're trying to do is ascertain if there is any situation 
you are aware of which Sam might be supposed to make right.  
Is there anything you've done recently which you regret?"

The commander was nodding, obviously calmed by Verbena's 
gentle approach.  Al sucked meditatively on the cigar, trying 
to quell his impatience.  He didn't like this situation, 
didn't like his queasy doubts that they would be able to get 
Sam back.  Didn't like the fact that he hadn't told Donna 
yet, and wasn't looking forward to the task.  Maybe he could 
get Verbena to pull that duty for him, too . . . no, that 
wouldn't be right.  He'd go find her as soon as he was done 
here.

"Well," Riker said.  "I guess . . . There's my father.  I 
never really got things totally patched up with him.  But 
he's not around right now, so I don't see how Sam could help 
with that.  And there's Ro Laren, that whole thing that 
happened with her . . ."

That piqued Al's interest.  "Ro Laren?  Isn't she the one on 
the bridge?  The pretty one with the weird nose?"

"Yes," Riker said tersely.  "Ensign Ro.  She sits at ops."

"What happened with her?  You sleep with her?"

"Well . . . it was kind of an unusual situation."

"I'll bet it was unusual.  She's not even human.  What was it 
like?"

Riker was starting to fume again.  "Not that much different 
than any other alien woman I've slept with . . . What is your 
problem, anyway?"

But Al was relentless in his single-mindedness.  "You've 
slept with other aliens?  Ever been with a girl with 
tentacles?"

Verbena's eyes widened a bit.  "Albert Calavicci, you are one 
sick puppy.  Maybe you should go and let me talk to Will."

Reluctantly, Al nodded.  "Yeah, maybe I should.  I'd better 
go find Donna."

"You haven't talked to Donna yet?"  Verbena was obviously put 
off.  "Go talk to her now.  And if she needs me, you come get 
me.  Understood?"

"Yeah."  Al started for the door, then hesitated.  "What 
about Deanna?  You ever sleep with Deanna?"

Riker gave him an extraordinarily Sam Beckett-like glare.  
"Will you please leave?"

"Yes, Al," Verbena put in.  "Please leave."

Al left.

****

Sam was not certain what he had expected to see when they 
went to the transporter room to meet Deanna's mother, but he 
was certain this was not it.  The black-eyed, gaudily dressed 
woman bubbled over to her daughter and embraced her.

"Oh, little one, it's been absolutely forever.  How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mother," Deanna said.  "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm wonderful, my dear.  Say hello to Mr. Homm."

Deanna nodded greetings to the extremely tall, blue-skinned 
man who still stood on the transporter pad next to Mrs.
 Troi's luggage.  "Um, Mother . . . How long are you planning 
to stay?"

"Well, how long are you going to be here?"

Deanna threw a pained look back at Sam.  "Oh, dear.  Well, 
Mother, I guess we'd better get you to your quarters.  I had 
the usual rooms set up for you."

"Why, how thoughtful of you, little one.  Come, Mr. Homm."

She left the transporter room in a quick bustle, giving Sam a 
very strange look as she passed.  She caught hold of Deanna's 
arm and pulled her along, leaving Sam with the dubious 
company of Mr. Homm.

"It's . . . um . .. good to see you again," Sam said.  Homm 
smiled and inclined his head politely.  "I hope you have a 
pleasant stay."

Another nod.  Obviously Homm wasn't the talkative sort.  "You 
ever play any basketball?"  Sam ventured.

Fortunately, the walk to Mrs. Troi's quarters was a short 
one.  At the door, Mrs. Troi paused to take both her 
daughter's hands in hers.  

"Won't you stay for a moment?"

"I'm sorry, Mother, but Captain Picard is planetside and I 
really need to go back to the bridge.  Perhaps I can join you 
after dinner?"

"Oh, that would be lovely."  She turned to Sam and gave him a 
look that went a few stages past undressing him.  "You I 
would very much like to see later, as well.  I'll call you."

Sam felt his face growing extremely warm.  "Um, of course, 
Mrs. Troi.  Whatever I can do to help."

She smiled quite wickedly and let the door slide closed 
behind her.  Deanna looked at Sam.

"Maybe she hasn't given up on that idea, after all."

****

"He's where?  Sam's where?"

Al put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.  
He had not seen Donna this upset since the Tamlyn incident.  
Only then she had been thinking of various inventive ways to 
kill Sam.  Now Al had the distinct impression she was turning 
similar attention toward him.

"He's . . . in the future.  He's aboard the Enterprise again, 
except this time he's on their timeline.  He's perfectly safe 
there.  They're just orbiting Earth.  There's no green men 
coming to try to blow them up or anything.  I wouldn't worry 
about it."

"I'd worry about it if I were you.  How do we know we can get 
him back?"

"If we got him there, we can get him back."

"That's what you said after the first leap.  I don't see him 
back yet.  Instead he's still out there bouncing around, 
sleeping with strange women . . . "

Here we go, Al thought.  She's still stewing.  Not that he 
really blamed her.  He would have been pretty upset, too, if 
their situations had been reversed.  Well, unless he'd been 
Sam.

"You know, he would never have slept with that woman if he 
hadn't simoleaped with you.  You know that, don't you?  That 
wasn't Sam in bed with her, it was you."

"Don't I wish," Al mumbled.  "Listen, Donna, you know he 
loves you, he just doesn't remember you.  And when he gets 
back here, he'll forget all about her.  He may have forgotten 
about her already."

Donna had turned away and was staring at the books on her 
shelf, blinking back tears.  "I know.  It just seems like . . 
. every time we get close to getting him back something like 
this happens."  She looked at him again, eyes cleared.  "Is 
there anything I can do to help?"

"Talk to Gooshie.  He's trying to figure out what's wrong 
with Ziggy.  I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the 
files Data added to send the Enterprise back, but on our 
timeline that was five years ago, so I don't know where 
they've been all this time."

"All right.  I'll have a look.  I think I still have some of 
Sam's original specs floating around here somewhere.  That 
might help.  He put in a lot of backups and hidden 
subroutines that I don't think he told Gooshie about."

"Well, I'm sure Gooshie will be glad to hear that."  Al could 
picture the floppy disks flying already.

"Oh, you know how Sam is.  His memory was half magnafluxxed 
before he ever leaped.  The man can recite Shakespeare after 
one reading but he can't remember where to put his dirty 
underwear."

Al smiled.  That was the Donna he knew.  "Well, I'll get you 
some breakfast ready."

"Thanks, Al.  But don' t bother.  I'll get something later."

"Sure.  All right."

He left her to dig through her books and her thoughts.  Not 
for the first time, he wished there were more he could do to 
help her bear her burden of loneliness.  And for once, he was 
not thinking in terms of sex.  Not that he had never thought 
of Donna that way -- he thought of all women that way -- but 
he certainly wasn't going to touch his best friend's wife.

Lighting the cigar Donna had asked him not to smoke in her 
presence -- she'd been touchy about that lately -- Al 
continued on his way back to the waiting room and the Imaging 
Chamber.  Verbena was still consulting with Riker, and he 
didn't want to bother Sam again without any information.  So, 
instead, he went to find Tina.

****

Sam ended up spending Riker's entire shift in the command 
chair, wondering if Picard was ever going to return to the 
ship, and wondering also why such a technologically advanced 
society could not produce a uniform tunic that did not creep 
up every time you got up or sat back down.  Finally Data 
stepped up to the command chair.

"Pardon me, Commander, but your duty shift has been over for 
ten minutes."

Sam looked up.  The android's expression was placid as usual.  
"Oh.  Right.  I thought I was feeling a little hungry."

Deanna smiled at him warmly.  "Any dinner plans?"

"If you mean am I planning to have dinner with your mother, 
no."  The thought of being alone with that woman gave him the 
creeps.

"Hmm," said Deanna.  "I wouldn't count on that."

She was still laughing as he entered the turbolift.

It was at times like this that Sam was glad he had a 
photographic memory.  He was able to retrace his steps to 
Riker's quarters without difficulty.  But the rooms proved 
not to be the haven he had hoped for.  On the table in the 
middle of the front room was a large vase filled with 
flowers.  There was a note attached.  Feeling his stomach 
sink, Sam plucked it off.  The handwriting was flowery.  Sam 
knew whose it was before he even started to read.

"To Sam Beckett:  I know it's quaint these days to send a 
hand-written note, but anything else would be too, too 
impersonal.  Please allow me the pleasure of your company 
tonight at dinner, so that we may discuss who you are and why 
my daughter thinks you are Will Riker.  See you right away, 
you delicious little man.  Lwaxana Troi."

Sam's life flashed before his eyes.  He was distressed that 
he could remember so little of it.  He left Riker's quarters 
and went forth to meet his fate.

****

"Yeah, there's definitely some stuff in here that shouldn't 
be."  Gooshie was mumbling; he always mumbled when he was 
absorbed in his work.  "But I can't figure out how to get it 
out."

Donna was leaning over his shoulder, looking at the 
handwritten specs she had found in one of Sam's old files.  
"There's a whole network of hidden directories that were set 
up to function independently from the main operating system.  
Ziggy can actually boot himself from them."

"Why did Sam do that?"  Al asked.  He was having trouble 
paying attention without his cigar.

"I think he intended it to work as virus protection, or 
protection against power outages, things like that.  Or if 
someone decided to come in and erase Ziggy's hard drive, like 
someone who had decided we were eating up too much grant 
money."  Donna shook her head.  "Brilliant, of course, but it 
makes this situation particularly difficult since Ziggy seems 
to have effectively seized control of the entire network."

"Oh, wonderful," Al said.  "So we can't do anything to the 
files unless Ziggy lets us in?"

"That's what it looks like," offered Gooshie.  "I'll keep 
working on it.  Why don't you let me keep those specs, Dr. 
Alessi.  I'd like to look them over."

"Sure."  She laid the papers down on the table next to him.  
"I'll look and see if I can find anything else."  She 
hesitated.  "Has anyone tried talking to Ziggy?"

"Ziggy's not talking," said Gooshie.  "He's shut down the 
communications system.  Obviously he doesn't want to discuss 
this.  Tina's trying to bypass, but no luck so far."

"Strange."  Donna stepped back, eyes distant.  Suddenly, she 
turned and headed back to her room.

"Let's hope it's a good brainstorm," Al commented.  He patted 
himself down for a cigar and lit it.  "I'm going to go talk 
to Sam.  Keep me posted."

Gooshie nodded.

Al met Verbena in the hallway.  "How's it going?"  he asked 
her.  "Any great ideas from our pal in there?"

"No, not really.  But he'd like to know if he can take a look 
around."

Al shrugged.  "I guess so.  Just don't let him touch 
anything.  Especially Tina."

Verbena grinned.  "I'll be sure he's kept well under 
control."

"Yeah, sure,"  Al mumbled.  He checked his handlink.  It 
appeared to still be working in spite of Ziggy's desire not 
to communicate.  He poked a few buttons, then opened the 
Imaging Chamber door.

****

Sam straightened his shirt and took a deep breath before 
pressing the button next to Lwaxana Troi's door.

"Come in!" she called.

Sam did so, stiffly, feeling his mouth becoming dry.  Lwaxana 
had laid out plates of pastries on the table, and two 
wineglasses stood side by side.  Mr Homm stood quietly by a 
wall, waiting for his services to be required.

"Have a seat, please," Lwaxana said, gesturing to the 
cushions around the low table.  "You do look handsome."

Sam demurred.  "Look, Mrs. Troi.  I'm really not hungry.  Now 
could you just tell me, please, what this is all about?"

"Well, it's about you, of course."

"What about me?"

She smiled.  "Well, dear, I know why you're here.  I know 
what it is you're supposed to do."

Sam blinked.  "You do?"

"Well, of course I do.  Now just sit down and we'll talk 
about it."

Reluctantly, Sam lowered himself to one of the cushions.  
Lwaxana sat across from him.  "Now, Dr. Beckett . . . can I 
call you Sam?"

"How do you know who I am?"

"Why, I can read your mind, of course."

"I thought . . . I thought Betazoids could only read 
emotions."

"No, no, that's Deanna.  She's only half Betazoid.  Full 
Betazoids are fully telepathic."

"So . . . why didn't you say something before, if you knew I 
wasn't Will?"

"Well, I didn't know you were supposed to be Will at first.  
I thought you were just some tasty little morsel Deanna 
picked up since last we spoke.  It wasn't until I spoke to 
her that I found out she thought you were Will.  She should 
really start paying closer attention to her surroundings. 
 You are nothing like Will.  You're so . . . innocent.  And 
much more handsome."  She scooted closer, scattering 
cushions.

"I don't . . ."

"Really, Will used to be such an adorable little puppy.  Now 
he's . . . well, he's far too independent."  She was almost 
in his lap by now.

"Um, I really don't think I'm your type."

"Nonsense.  You're absolutely delicious.  And a time 
traveller.  Primitive humans always intrigue me . . . "  She 
had hold of his uniform now and was pulling his tunic tails 
out of his trousers.  He grabbed after them, trying to 
retrieve them and put them back where they belonged.

"I think you want to talk to my friend Al . . . I think you'd 
like him much better."

She paused, considering.  "Well, maybe later.  I can see him 
in your head, you know."  She resumed her attack.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out of my head, please."  He 
tried to wriggle away, but she had backed him into the couch, 
and there was no place for him to go.

"I think you'd better start trying to get her out of your 
pants."  Sam was somewhat relieved to hear Al's voice.  He 
had missed the sound of the Imaging Chamber door opening, 
mostly because Lwaxana's tongue was in his ear.  "She looks 
dangerous. . . . Oh, my God!  Who's the blue guy?"

"Mr. Homm," Sam said.

"Oh, he won't help you.  Don't even bother.  He loves this 
kind of thing."

"Oh, great," Sam muttered.  Lwaxana had her arms up his shirt 
and was doing very strange things to his chest hair.  "Please 
. . . Do you mind?"  He was afraid he was going to hurt her 
if he was too insistent, but he was also afraid she was going 
to hurt him.  Suddenly she sat back, looking at him with a 
wounded expression.

"What's wrong?  I thought all twentieth century human males 
were sex-crazed primitives."

"Boy, you've got him figured wrong," Al said.

Sam tried to re-shevel his disheveled uniform.  "Well, a lot 
of them are.  I happen not to be one of them."

Lwaxana snorted.  "Just my luck.  Well.  I apologize.  Have a 
pastry."

Sam straightened his hair and took a pastry from the plate.  
It was sticky and didn't appeal to him particularly, but he 
was hungry and he didn't want to upset Lwaxana any more than 
was necessary to preserve his own virtue.  Al was studying 
Lwaxana closely.

"Interesting woman.  Who is she?"

"Mrs. Troi,"  Sam started.

"This is Deanna's mom?  You're kidding."

"Mrs. Troi," Sam went on, "you said you know why I'm here?"

"She knows why you're here?  This should be interesting."

"Yes, I think I do."  She had done a quick mood swing and was 
now lolling happily in the cushions, munching on an almond-
covered sweet roll.  "Now.  While I was trespassing in your 
mind, I discovered that you usually pass from time to time 
after correcting something that is wrong in someone's life, 
correct?"

Sam glanced at Al, who was standing with his mouth hanging 
open.  "Yes, that's usually the way it works."

"Well, then, it can't be a coincidence that you've leaped 
into Will.  I mean, after all, this thing with him and Deanna 
has been going on forever and the two of them just refuse to 
resolve it."

"What thing?"

"Well, one week they're on, the next they're off . . . She's 
in love with him, and he's in love with her, and I don't 
understand this whole staying away from someone you serve 
with nonsense they've concocted.  It's just keeping them 
confused about what they really want."

"And what is it they really want?"

"Well, each other, of course."

"So you think I'm here to get Will and Deanna together once 
and for all."

"Of course.  It makes perfect sense."

Al shrugged.  "Well, it's worth a shot.  See what you can do 
to get out of here, Sam.  I need to update you on the latest 
with Ziggy."

Sam laid his pastry back down on the plate.  "Listen, Mrs. 
Troi, I appreciate your hospitality and all, but I really 
think I should go.  Thanks for the advice."

"Oh, you're welcome."  She stood as he did, looking at him 
wistfully.  "Are you sure you're not interested?"

"Not just now, thanks."

"Maybe later?"

"Probably not."

"Oh, well.  Best of luck."

"Thanks."  He beat a hasty retreat out the door.  

Al popped in next to him as the door slid shut.

"She was reading your mind?"

"Yeah," Sam muttered.  "She's full Betazoid.  She's 
telepathic."

"This is a really scary place to be."

"You're telling me.  What's up with Ziggy?"

"Ziggy has apparently lost his mind.  Remember the backup 
network you built in case of power failures, or viruses, 
stuff like that?"

"No."

"Well, anyway, there's this network of directories and files 
and subdirectories and all this stuff that Ziggy can access 
in case his main memory goes down.  Well, he's taken control 
of this network, and we can't get into it until he lets us."

"And that's where the files are that Data put in."

"Apparently.  He's also using it to increase the amount of 
power he's getting.  Which is why nothing's happened until 
now, cause last week we installed this big power booster 
generator thing so we can communicate with you a little 
better.  He's tapped into that, and he's using it to keep me 
in touch with you, and to leap you around."

"Ziggy's leaping me around?"

"That's what it looks like.  He has routines that can control 
it now, thanks to Data."

They had reached Riker's quarters by then.  Sam went in and 
Al walked through the door as it slid shut on him.

"But Ziggy's never been in control of the leaps before.  No 
one has."

"Well, he has to a certain extent.  He's just increased that 
by about a thousand times."

"So he's putting me where he wants me.  So why did he put me 
here?"

"I don't know."

Sam sat down, reflecting.  "Maybe . . . maybe if I go ahead 
and correct this Will and Deanna situation, whatever has been 
leaping me around in the past will override Ziggy's control 
and leap me out of here."

"It's possible.  In fact, it's about the only thing we can 
try right now, so I say go for it."

"Yeah, okay.  I'll do what I can."

"And stay away from that woman.  She could put you in the 
hospital."

"Yeah, no kidding."

Al poked the handlink and disappeared.  Sam set about looking 
for some supper.

****

"No.  No, absolutely not.  Go back right now and tell him to 
stop whatever it is he's doing."

Verbena laid a hand on Will's arm.  "It's all right, Will.  
Sam's only doing what he thinks is best."

"Well, he's wrong.  Where in the world did you get the idea 
that my relationship with Deanna needed fixing?"

"From Deanna's mother," Al said.

"Oh, no.  Not her."  Riker fell into a chair behind Gooshie's 
desk.  He had been inspecting the terminal they'd been using 
to access Ziggy when Al had returned with his news.  "Don't 
listen to anything that woman says.  She's always causing 
trouble."

"Yeah, she just about got Sam into some big trouble," Al 
said.  "She had her hands up inside . . ."

Verbena put a finger to her lips.  Donna was approaching from 
behind them.  Hastily, Al snubbed out his cigar.  Riker 
looked up, showing an immediate spark of interest.  He stood, 
extending his hand.

"Hello," he said.  "I'm Commander William Riker."

Donna hesitated.  She didn't like meeting leapees.  Al knew 
how difficult it was for her, seeing Sam's face, hearing his 
voice and knowing it wasn't him.  Finally she took Riker's 
hand.  "Dr. Donna Alessi," she said quietly.  Her lips were 
pale.  "Where's Gooshie?"

"He's eating," Al said, "what else?"

"I've got to go find him.  If you'll excuse me."  She turned, 
then suddenly she was grabbing the nearest chair as her legs 
buckled under her.  Al jumped for her, but somehow Riker got 
to her first.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know.  Verbena . . .?"

Verbena disengaged her from Riker's arms.  "It's all right, 
Donna.  Come on, let's take a look at you."  Gently, she 
guided Donna away.

Al gave Riker a glare that could melt glass.

"What?  What did I do?"

"You haven't looked in a mirror?" Al snapped.

"No, I haven't.  Why should I?"

Given the immaculate condition of Riker's hair, Al found that 
hard to believe.  Or maybe they had futuristic super heavy 
duty Brylcreem in the 24th century.  He looked furiously 
around the room, trying to find a reflective surface.  
Finally he pointed to the computer terminal.  "Look in there.  
That's good enough."

Riker looked.  His eyes came back up to Al full of confusion.  
"That's not me.  That's . . . that's Beckett, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is.  You're wearing his aura, just like he's wearing 
yours.  You look like him, he looks like you.  So please try 
to be a little more discreet around Dr. Alessi, all right?"

"What's so damn special about her?"

"She's Mrs. Beckett, that's what's so damn special.  And she 
doesn't need you acting all nicey-nicey to her wearing her 
husband's face.  All right?"

Riker looked chagrined.  "Yeah, all right.  I'm sorry.  I 
didn't know."

"Yeah, you didn't know."  Al was working up a severe state of 
annoyance.  "Listen, Commander.  I knew a Commander Riker in 
the navy, and I didn't like him and I don't like you.  I know 
your type.  You're on the make every minute.  Every skirt you 
see is an opportunity to hop in the sack.  Well, you'd better
 watch your step here, you nozzle, because I've got my eye on 
you."

Riker crossed his arms indignantly.  "Oh, you know my type, 
do you?  And what makes you so sure I'm that type?"

"Cause _I'm_ that type.  So watch it.  I know you better than 
you think."

Surprisingly, Riker laughed.  "Okay, okay.  Who's off-limits 
and who's not?"

Al covered his surprised at Riker's retreat by relighting his 
cigar.  "Well, Donna you know about.  Tina -- now, Tina's 
mine, so hands off."

"All right, all right.  I haven't even met Tina yet."

"Well, if I have my way, you won't."

"What about Verbena?"

"Verbena?  Yeah, Verbena's single.  She's probably not 
interested, though."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

Al nearly choked.  "You're making time with Verbena?"

Riker shrugged.  "Hey, she's a very beautiful woman."

"Yeah, but she's so . . . tall.  And when I had the flu a 
month ago she told me she was going to put an African Zulu 
curse on me if I tried to look down her shirt again while she 
was stirring my chicken soup."

"Well, I like a challenge."

"I guess you do."  Al couldn't help but feel a little respect 
for the man.  "Listen, about that tentacles thing . . ."

"No, I've never been with a woman with tentacles."  He 
hesitated.  "But if you'll sit down and be sociable for a 
minute I'll tell you about the twins with six breasts.  
Each."

Al stared.  "Oh, yumola."

****

Via merciless interrogation of the ship's computer on how to 
use the replicator, Sam managed to acquire a decent meal, as 
well as a fresh flower arrangement and a card.  He wrote a 
note to Deanna, asking her to come see him after she was 
finished with dinner, and left the flowers in her quarters.  
Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Upon inquiry, the computer informed him that Riker had a wide 
selection of music Sam could access to amuse himself.  On a 
whim, Sam asked for "Man of La Mancha."  The computer 
complied with a version Sam was not familiar with.  A recent 
production, he assumed, from a 24th century company.  They 
were passable, though Sam was unreasonably attached to the 
version he and Al had listened to in the old days, drawing 
schematics for Ziggy and pretending they knew what they were 
doing.

The door chirped, appropriately, in the middle of "Dulcinea."

"Come in," Sam called.

Deanna stepped in with a bemused smile.  She was wearing an 
understatedly elegant dark blue gown with a gauzy, flowing 
skirt and a deep neckline.  "Good evening, Will," she said.  
"The flowers were lovely."

Sam smiled warmly.  He had to admit he didn't have any 
particular objections to cozying up with this woman.  Her 
exotic beauty reminded him of Tamlyn, and something else 
about her reminded him of . . . somebody.  The memory tugged 
teasingly, then disappeared.  "I'm glad you liked them."

"So . . . what did you want to see me about?"  She crossed 
the room to sit down across from him.  The gown shimmered 
prettily on her as she moved.  Sam felt suddenly nervous.  
Deanna frowned.  "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's just . . . I've been thinking . . . about us.  I 
just . . . I wonder sometimes if we've made the right 
decision."

Deanna leaned back in the chair, starting to look a little 
wary.  "We've been through this before, Will.  You and I both 
know that we can't sustain a relationship under these 
conditions."

"Under what conditions, then?  If we wait until we're not on 
the same ship, we could end up on different planets.  What 
kind of a relationship would that be?"

That argument obviously struck home somewhere.  She lowered 
her eyes, studying her hands.  Sam quietly stood and went to 
sit next to her.  Gently, he took her hands in his.  "I care 
about you, Deanna.  I don't want to grow old wondering what 
could have been."

She shrugged a little, started to look up and then turned 
away again.  The mistiness in her eyes made Sam's throat 
ache.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.  What 
would Al do? he thought, and in the back of his mind he heard 
Al saying, "Actions speak louder than words, Sam."  So he 
kissed her.

The moment their lips met, Sam realized he had wanted to do 
this since he had first laid eyes on her in the last leap.  
He pulled her closer.  She had a wonderful, spicy smell. 
 Perfume or skin, Sam wasn't sure.  He didn't care.  Vaguely, 
he heard the Imaging Chamber door, but Al was the last thing 
he wanted to think about right now.

"Sam!  Guess what . . . Oh, you're busy."

Deanna's arms slipped around him, her body nestling to his, 
then suddenly she was disengaging, pushing him away.  Sam was 
dismayed to see that the tears had materialized and were 
rolling down her face.  "Deanna, what's wrong?"

"This is . . . this isn't right.  It's too fast . . . "  She 
stood up, rubbing at her eyes, and turned away from him.

Sam looked desperately to Al, who shrugged.  "Riker says he 
doesn't think we should be messing with this.  He says he 
thinks their relationship is just fine."

"Oh, great," Sam muttered.  "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Deanna wheeled on him.  "You didn't bother to ask, did you?"

Sam did a double take, realizing what he'd said.  "No, 
Deanna, I didn't mean . . ."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I just . . ."  He stopped.  "Listen, Deanna, I'm sorry.  
Let's just pretend this never happened, okay?"

"I don't know, Will."

"Sam," Al went on.  "Riker could be wrong, but he doesn't 
think you should be doing this."

"Well then what am I supposed to do?"

Yet another faux pas.  Deanna stiffened, mouth tight.  "I 
don't know, Will.  Why don't you go ask Ro Laren."  With 
that, she stormed out the door.

"Oh, great," Sam said.  "This is really going well."

"It was a good idea.  It may still be a good idea.  Even if 
it is a good idea, it may not work."

"Why?  What have you found out about Ziggy?"

"Nothing.  Riker took a look, but he says the operating 
systems they use are so much different from ours that he 
can't figure out what's going on.  He thinks Geordi or Data 
could help, though."

"Well, obviously Data could help, but it doesn't do much good 
when he's four hundred years in the future.  We can't beam 
him down to help."

"Maybe you could leap into him.  Then he'd be back at the 
project."

"I can't leap into an android."

"How do you know?"

"There's no way.  Data isn't even human."

"Neither was Bobo, and you leaped into him."

"Bobo was a chimp.  There's a high percentage of genetic 
similarity.  Data's a . . . machine.  I couldn't leap into 
him anymore than I could leap into a refrigerator."

"Well, maybe we'll have to shoot for Geordi, then.  Or maybe 
you should just go talk to him.  He knows who you are, after 
all.  Remember?  He can see you."

"Yeah, that might be worth a try . . ."  He broke off 
suddenly.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"I'm going to leap."

"What?  Now?"

"Yeah.  Now."  He turned to Al and stared helplessly as his 
surroundings blurred and disappeared . . .

And reformed again.  He was in a bright room, surrounded by 
lights and the sounds of machinery.  He was slightly bent 
over, and had a round instrument in one hand.  In front of 
him sat a young black man, obviously blind.  The instrument 
in Sam's hand was pointed at a glowing red implant in the 
man's temple.

Sam blinked.  The man was Geordi LaForge.

"Oh, boy," said Sam.