Message-Id: <199301061907.AA20511@tbird.cc.bellcore.com>
From: krk1@pyuxe.cc.bellcore.com (knights,katriena r)
Date:  6 Jan 1993  13:58 EST
Subject: LeapTrek II, chapter 3


LEAPTREK II
CHAPTER 3

Verbena Beeks knelt on the floor next to the latest leapee.  When the 
person had come in supine, she had immediately assumed 
unconsciousness, but examination showed that the leapee was simply 
asleep.  Gently, Verbena lay down the wrist she was holding and 
touched the leapee's shoulder.

Eyes drifted open, revealing the mossy green-brown of Sam's eyes, 
then widened in fear.  The leapee sat up abruptly, looking around.  
The movements were discernably feminine.  She wrapped her arms 
around herself, flinching away from Verbena.

"Where am I?  What's happening?"

"Everything's all right," Verbena said.  "I'm a doctor.  My name's 
Verbena Beeks.  Do you feel all right?"

"I'm a little dizzy, that's all."  One hand went to her head, then 
lowered.  She still looked lost.

"What's your name?" Verbena asked.

"Deanna.  Deanna Troi."

Verbena nodded, recognizing the name.  "You're ship's Counselor, 
right?"

"Yes.  Yes, that's right.  What is this place?"

"It's a waiting room.  Now, you just stay quiet, and I'll be right back."

"A waiting room?"  Deanna repeated.  "What are we waiting for?"

"Well, right now we're waiting for Al.  I'm going to go find him."

Deanna's brow furrowed delicately.  "Why are you so worried?  Is 
there something wrong with me?"

"I'm not worried. . ."  Verbena broke off as Deanna shook her head.

"You _are_.  Why?"

"I'm not worried about you.  Now, just relax.  Everything will be all 
right."

Verbena slipped out the door, leaving Deanna alone with her 
thoughts.  She glanced at her watch.  It had been fifteen minutes 
since she had summoned Al over the intercom to let him know there 
was another leapee.  It was unlike him to be late.  Unless . . .   She 
paused in her journey to his room.  But no.  She'd seen Tina not five 
minutes ago, still trying to restore Ziggy's communications circuits.  
So she wasn't likely to catch them in a compromising position.

Al's door was slightly ajar.  Verbena knocked lightly.  "Al?  Al, we 
have a leapee."  She paused.  No answer.  "Al, it's Deanna Troi."

Still no answer.  That statement should have brought Al running.

Feeling a distinct tremor of apprehension, Verbena pushed the door 
open.  She could see Al in the bed, on his back.  "Al?"

The apprehension was swiftly mutating to fear.  In a few long 
strides, Verbena crossed the room and knelt by the bed.  After a 
moment, she leaned back on her heels, lips tight against her teeth.

Al was unconscious.

****

After a quarter of an hour wading through her closet, Sam came to 
the conclusion that Deanna Troi did not own a single outfit which did 
not show at least an inch of cleavage.  He finally settled on a maroon 
pantsuit which was at least comfortable for him to wear.  According 
to the schedule on the computer, Deanna was due on the bridge in 
five minutes.  Dutifully, Sam headed in that direction.

He had to wait a moment for the turbolift.  When the door finally 
opened, he almost balked getting on.  Geordi LaForge stood inside.  
Sam swallowed and stepped in.  LaForge hadn't recognized him last 
time, as Beverly Crusher; perhaps his luck would hold out.

"Good morning, Counselor," LaForge said brightly.  "How are you this 
morning?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Sam replied.  "And you?"

"I feel pretty good."  He looked happy -- much less tense than last 
time Sam had seen him.  Of course he was probably still getting over 
the death of Kylaree Lara.  "We have an appointment at 0900 today, 
right?"

"Yes, we do."

The turbolift was slowing, apparently nearing LaForge's destination.  
Sure enough, the doors opened and Geordi stepped out.  "I'll see you 
then, Counselor."

Sam waved goodbye and smiled.  When the doors closed, he let out a 
quiet sigh of relief.  Something had definitely changed.  He had a 
feeling Ziggy had recalibrated the interface so as to eliminate the 
echoes which had clued Geordi in on Sam's presence during the first 
leap aboard the Enterprise.  Sam had no idea how Ziggy might have 
accomplished that, but Ziggy was doing a good many things lately 
that Sam found inexplicable.

On the bridge, Sam was greeted by a nod from Picard.  Riker was 
there, as well, but he did not look up right away.  When he did, his 
smile seemed hesitant.  Sam returned it without a great deal of 
enthusiasm.  It looked like his faux pas while inhabiting Riker's 
persona had created something of a rift between these two.  Well, 
now he had a chance to mend it.  Perhaps that was why he was here: 
to put right what he'd made wrong.

"So, Counselor," Picard said.  "Have you decided when you'll be taking 
your shore leave?"

"Um,"  Sam glanced at Riker, who was studiously avoiding his gaze.  
"No, not yet.  Maybe tomorrow."

"Well, you can have a full week if you start today."

"That's all right.  I have some things I need to take care of before I 
go."

Picard nodded.  "That's fine.  Just be sure to notify me."

"When are you going, Captain?" Riker asked.  There was a hint of 
mischief in his voice.

"As soon as you do, Commander," Picard replied smartly.

Riker smiled a little, then turned his attention back to the 
viewscreen, where the planet Earth was peacefully rotating beneath 
them.  Sam took his seat next to the captain.  Picard looked tired.

"You could use the rest, I'm sure, Captain," he ventured.  

"Yes, yes, so you and the good doctor keep telling me.  Well, just to 
ease all of your minds, I'm considering it for the last three days of 
our stay.  I have some personal business I'd like to attend to."

"Well, that's good," Sam told him.  "I approve."  He glanced at Riker 
again.  The commander had closed his eyes and Sam saw a quick 
blink of surprised pain across his face.  "Commander, are you all 
right?"

Riker looked at him.  He still had a strange look on his face, as if 
something had caught him off guard.  "Um . . . Yeah, I'm fine.  I 
must've got a bad burrito last night."

Sam nodded.  "You're sure?"  He wished he had Deanna's empathic 
abilities.  He wanted to know exactly how much damage he had done 
to their relationship.  He had an uneasy feeling that maybe Riker was 
suffering from a hangover, and he wanted to know if it was his fault.

"Yeah.  I'm fine."

"Well," said Picard suddenly, "since you two have been good enough 
to report to duty, I'm now going to excuse you from it.  There's no 
point having us all on the bridge, so, since you won't take shore 
leave, I suggest at the very least some time in the holodeck."

Riker looked surprised.  "You're excusing us from duty, sir?"

"That is correct.  Goodbye, both of you."

Sam and Riker both sat staring.  "Go on,"  Picard said.  "Scat."

"Yes, sir," said Sam, and scatted, Riker a pace behind.

Naturally, they ended up on the turbolift together.  Riker still seemed 
strangely ill at ease.  Sam cleared his throat.

"Um. . . Will?"

Riker's gaze jerked around.  "Yes, Deanna?"

"I just . . . I really want to apologize for what happened the other 
day.  I think I overreacted."

"Apology accepted," Riker said.  Sam blinked.  That was easy.  "Listen, 
Deanna.  How would you like to have a late breakfast, since we're off 
duty?"

"That would be fine . . . Oh, no, I can't.  I have to meet with Geordi at 
0900."

Riker looked distressed.  "Oh.  Well . . . How about dinner, then?"

"That would be nice."  Sam felt obligated to do whatever he could to 
patch things up.  "Shall we meet in Ten Forward?"

"My quarters.  1900 hours?"

Sam hesitated, suddenly wondering what he was committing to.  But 
he had taken the plunge, and it was too late to turn back now.  "All 
right.  I'll see you then."

****

Verbena called on Donna to help her transfer Al into the infirmary.  
They slipped quietly down the hallways with the laden gurney, 
Verbena with her fingers crossed, hoping they wouldn't run into 
Tina.  She didn't want to have to bring the news to Tina until she had 
a working theory.

"What do you think happened?"  Donna asked in a whisper as they 
prepared hypodermic needles to run blood tests.

Verbena looked up briefly.  Donna looked tired, and Verbena had to 
repress an urge to sit the other woman down and take her blood 
pressure.  You'd look bad, too, she reminded herself, if you were 
facing what she's facing.  But she knew everything was going to be 
all right in the end.

"I have no idea," she said honestly.  "I'm hoping these blood tests will 
tell us something.  If not, we're going to have to interrogate Tina and 
see if anything unusual's been going on the last few days."

"In the mean time, what about Sam?"

"I don't know.  Maybe you should talk to Gooshie and see if he can 
get things tweaked in the Imaging Chamber so he or I can act as 
observer for a while.  If Sam goes too long without seeing Al, he's 
going to think we've been forced to abandon him."

Donna shook her head.  "I don't know if Gooshie can tweak it enough.  
The Imaging Chamber is only keyed to Al and Sam's brain waves.  
We'd have to put together an entire new profile.  That could take 
weeks.  The original jobs for Al and Sam took six months."

"Then I guess we have to concentrate on getting Al back into the land 
of the living as soon as possible."

"I think that's our best bet."

"Then hand me a hypo."

****

"It sounds to me as if you're doing much better.  You just have to 
remember that we all have our own ways of dealing with these 
things, and you have to give yourself time to recover at your own 
pace."

To Sam, it seemed like he was floundering, spitting platitudes and 
cliches while Geordi waited for sound advice and an informed 
empathic reading, but Geordi's nod seemed genuinely satisfied.

"I think I'm starting to get over it.  I really have been feeling much 
more . . . level . . . since I had that week of shore leave."

"That was probably exactly what you needed."

"Well, I'd probably better get back to work.  Starfleet waits for no 
man, and they want this whole ship checked before they let us head 
back out."

"If you need anything, come see me."

"Thank you, Counselor."

Sam leaned back in his chair as Geordi departed.  Partially into the 
interview, it had become apparent that Geordi could no longer 
discern anything unusual about Sam's presence.  Sam had no 
explanation, but that was mostly because something else had been 
preying more and more heavily on his mind as the day wore by:  
where was Al?  It was rare for Al to let more than a few hours go by 
before he checked in on Sam, and with Sam displacing someone who 
looked like Deanna Troi, he had expected to see Al almost 
immediately.  So what was the holdup?  He didn't want to think 
about the possibility that the government had, indeed, stepped in 
and shut the project down.  But that was the only explanation he 
could think of.  The thought made him queasy.  He had to get back.  
Even if Project Quantum Leap was no longer operational, he had to 
find a way to get back.

It was fortunate, he thought, that he had ended up stranded in the 
future.  By all accounts, they had discovered a few means of semi-
directed time travel, so perhaps they could put him back where he 
belonged, and even retrieve Deanna.  He closed his eyes and started 
to think the scenario through, just in case.  It was the only thing he 
could think of to do to counter this feeling of utter helplessness.  And 
besides, it took his mind off worrying about what was going to 
happen tonight when he had dinner with Commander Riker.

****
Deanna had not been satisfied with the explanations she had gotten 
from Verbena Beeks.  Something very strange was going on here, and 
she intended to find out what it was.  She had determined that she 
was being held in an isolated area.  She could feel a handful of minds 
clamoring close to her.  There were other presences, as well, but they 
were very far away on all sides, like background noise.  Here there 
were only five.  Two, a male and a female presence, were annoyed.  
Verbena was worried.  Of the other two, one was very faint, and the 
other was a female who seemed to be blocking off a great deal of 
sadness and uncertainty.  This person she would like to meet.  There 
was another presence, as well, even fainter than the other, and 
nebulous, almost as if it were an afterimage of someone else.  Deanna 
stared at the wall, trying to make out the outline of the door Verbena 
had just walked through.  Finally, she found it, then found a panel 
covering buttons next to it.  She pushed a green one and the door 
opened.

Outside, she was confronted by two hallways, one going straight 
ahead, the other to the right.  The strangest of the presences she was 
sensing was straight ahead, so she went that way.  After a few yards, 
she reached a door which let her into a large control room of some 
sort.  The walls were covered with blinking lights and panels, and 
there were a pair of computer terminals at either side.  A pair of 
humans sat in front of them, a man and a woman.  The man was 
deeply involved in what he was doing and didn't even look up as 
Deanna walked in.  The woman, on the other hand, looked up.

"Hi!" she said brightly.  "Who are you?"

"I'm Deanna Troi," Deanna said.  "I'm ship's counselor aboard the 
Starship Enterprise.  Who are you?"

"I'm Tina.  I'm the pulse communications technician here at Project 
Quantum Leap."  She paused.  She was chewing gum, and she 
snapped it between her teeth.  "Are you like a psychiatrist?"

"Well, yes, in a way."

"Thank God they finally leaped in somebody who could help!  
Gooshie, we got a psychiatrist."

The man grunted and glanced up.  "Good.  Dandy."

Deanna was confused.  "I don't understand."

Tina leaned toward her confidentially.  "Our computer has lost his 
mind."

"I wasn't aware that a computer would have a mind to lose."  But 
there it was, that strange presence she had felt.  It was much 
stronger in this room and still unidentifiable.

"Well, Ziggy's pretty unusual.  You see, it all started when Sam leaped 
into Captain Picard and Data had to come and reprogram Ziggy to 
straighten everything out."

Deanna was becoming intrigued.  "Yes.  And then what happened?"

"Well, Ziggy stopped talking, and Sam's being leaped around in the 
future, into all these people from the Starship Enterprise."

"All these people?  I'm not the only one this has happened to?"

"Oh, no.  You're like the third, I think.  I don't know.  I haven't been 
keeping track.  You'd have to ask Verbena.  Or Al, of course."  She 
frowned.  "That reminds me.  Gooshie, have you seen Al today?"

"Nope," Gooshie grunted.

Tina rolled her eyes.  "Gooshie's hopeless when he's working on a 
problem.  You see, Sam made all these directories, and Ziggy's hidden 
the files Data made in them, and Gooshie can't find them.  It's getting 
him all annoyed.  So, anyway.  Do you want to try to talk to Ziggy?"

Deanna's head was spinning.  Tina's rendition of the story was not 
exactly easy to follow.  But the presence she was sensing had her 
intrigued.  So did this woman, whose outer demeanor belied the 
depth Deanna could sense from her.  "I suppose I could.  Tell me.  Has 
Ziggy every shown any signs of emotional reaction?"

"Oh, all the time.  He gets depressed when he reads Romeo and Juliet.  
Why do you ask?"

"Well, you see, I'm an empath . . ."

"Oh, wow!  You can, like, feel Ziggy's emotions?"

"Not really, but I do feel something.  I'm not sure what it is, but it's 
certainly not something that's usual for a computer."

"Oh, great!  Then maybe you can get through to him, since you know 
how he feels.  What is it?  Is he depressed?  He's been accessing all 
these really depressing love stories lately.  I think he's getting them 
from Al."

"How do I talk to him?"

"Just talk.  I think he can still hear us.  He's just not talking back."  
She wheeled an extra chair out from behind her desk.  "Here.  Have a 
seat."

Deanna sat down and folded her hands in her lap.  "Ziggy?"  There 
was no answer.  Deanna opened herself, straining to feel the faint 
sensations given off by the computer.  "Ziggy, I'd like to help you.  
Can you tell me what's troubling you?"

There was a faint surge in the presence.  It was not definable as an 
emotion, but it was a definite change.  "Are you feeling despondent?  
It might help to talk.  It certainly won't help you to hold it all in."  
Still no answer.  Had it not been for the undeniable sensation tickling 
at the back of her mind, Deanna would have thought she had become 
the butt of an elaborate practical joke.  Maybe she was, anyway.  She 
looked up at Tina, who was watching expectantly, then across at 
Gooshie, who was watching over the top of his terminal with an 
eyebrow lifted.  She felt nothing but sincerity from them.

"If you will talk to me, I will do everything I can to help you through 
your difficulty."  She decided to go out on a limb.  "I can sense your 
despair.  I know how you feel.  It's normal to feel like this 
sometimes.  Whatever it is that's causing this pain, if you'll tell me 
about it I'm willing to listen . . ."

"Oh, God!"

Deanna fairly leaped from her skin.  The feminine voice had come 
from the walls.  Tina jumped up out of her chair.  "It's Ziggy!  Ziggy, 
talk to me!"

"Oh, God!" said Ziggy.  "Make her stop!  She's driving me CRAZY!"

****

Sam spent the rest of the day worrying, seeing patients, and trying to 
figure out how to get out of this mess.  Al still had not made an 
appearance, and by now Sam was certain he was on his own.  He 
would have to convince someone that he needed to be put back 
where he belonged.  Luckily, he could probably approach Picard.  He 
only hoped the captain had not forgotten his experience at Project 
Quantum Leap.

For now, though, he had more immediate worries.  It was 1900 
hours, and Commander Riker was expecting him for dinner.  Standing 
in front of the door, he wondered if there was some way he could get 
out of the date.  But he owed it to Will and Deanna to correct the 
mistake he had made.

Sam paused before knocking.  He had no clear idea as far as the 
Commander's intentions, and was beginning to wonder if he should 
have insisted on meeting in Ten Forward.  Dinner with Picard had not 
been half so frightening, because he had been certain he could count 
on the captain to act the gentleman.  With Riker, he was not so sure.

Finally, he took a deep breath and pressed the button next to the 
door.

"Come in," Riker called.

Sam activated the door and entered, and immediately wished he 
hadn't.  The lights in Riker's quarters were dimmed, and there was 
music playing softly.  Riker was in civvies -- an electric blue tunic 
and trousers accessoried with magenta.

"You look absolutely wonderful," he said, his tone one of slow, 
delicious appreciation.  "I promise you, Deanna, this is going to be one 
evening you'll never forget."

He made a sweeping gesture toward the table, where two whole 
lobsters were nestling amidst an arrangement of formal dinnerware.  
Wine stood in glasses.  "Have a seat, my lovely Counselor."

Hesitant, Sam moved toward the table.  The situation was putting 
him very much on edge.  Something was just plain wrong.  Riker 
smiled at Sam, a smile that bordered on a smirk, and sat down across 
from him.  

"Don't be shy," he said.  "Dig in."  He unfolded a napkin and stuffed 
one end of it down his collar, taking his own advice.

Well.  There wasn't really any other option, so Sam began to 
break open his lobster.  It was actually quite good.  He ate neatly, 
trying very hard not to be suggestive about it.  Riker was making no 
such attempt.

"Wonderful lobster, isn't it?"  Riker purred after a moment.  "So 
sweet and warm . . . like you."

Sam looked up at him narrowly.  "Yeah, right."  He had a feeling he 
was slipping out of character, but this was getting annoying.

"And the wine . . . exotic and intoxicating . . . Like you."

"And your wardrobe," Sam shot back, "grating and obnoxious . . . like 
you."

Riker feigned shock.  "You don't like this?  I thought it was your 
favorite shirt."

"Well, it isn't anymore.  Now may I please finish my dinner in 
peace?"

Riker smiled sweetly.  "As you wish, my darling."

Sam finished his lobster in the uncomfortable silence, while Riker's 
eyes felt him up from across the table.  As he lifted his napkin to 
daub the butter from the corners of his mouth, he felt something 
brushing the inside of his thigh.  He looked down to see Riker's 
unshod foot in his lap. 

"May I make a suggestion for dessert?"  Riker murmured. 

Sam swallowed.  "Oh, boy."

****

Al's condition had not changed.  Verbena had drawn several blood 
samples without so much as a blink or a flinch from the unconscious 
Admiral.  Now she was preparing slides while Donna spun other 
samples in the centrifuge.

"What do you think is wrong with him?  Donna asked.

"I have no idea," Verbena answered.  "I just hope his blood will show 
something we can act upon.  Otherwise we'll probably have to get 
him to Albuquerque."

"That would leave Sam without any ties to us."

"That's right.  And I hate to think what he's thinking right now."

"He's probably thinking that the project has been shut down, and he's 
stranded in the future."  Donna sighed.  Verbena heard a smatter of 
tears in her voice.  "I wish there was something more we could do."

Verbena carefully placed a coverslip on a slide.  "Well, all we can do 
is what we can do."  She slipped the slide under the microscope.  
"Now, let's have a look . . ."

She was silent for a moment, studying the sample.  Donna leaned 
forward expectantly.  Finally, Verbena stood and stepped to a file 
cabinet, removing another slide from a box in a drawer.  She
replaced the fresh slide with the old one, then switched them again.

"What is it?" Donna asked.

Verbena shook her head.  "Take a look at this and tell me what you 
think."

Puzzled, Donna bent over the microscope.  Verbena showed her first 
one slide, then the other.  "That's strange,"  Donna mumbled.

"My thoughts, exactly."  She picked up one of the other vials.  "Type 
this for me, would you?"  she said to Donna.

Donna took the blood and started the simple procedure to determine 
its type.  After a moment, she looked up at Verbena.

"I _am_ doing this right, aren't I?"

"Looks right to me.  Why?"

"Because Al is supposed to be an A positive.  This blood is type O 
negative."

Verbena nodded decisively.  "Then that confirms it."

Donna looked at Al, then back at Verbena again.  "You mean . . ."

"That's right.  That man is _not_ Albert Calavicci."

****

"Would you please remove your foot?" Sam said quietly.

Riker grinned.  "Well, I'd love to, sweetheart, but I'm sort of attached 
to it."

Sam glared.  "You know what I mean."

Shrugging apologetically, Riker lowered his foot.  "I apologize.  I 
mean, how can you expect me _not_ to be affected by such radiant 
beauty?"

Sam stood abruptly, throwing his napkin down on the table.  "Cut the 
crap, Will," he snapped.  "How dare you think you can treat me like a 
. . . like a . . . like a _whore_!"

Riker looked genuinely hurt.  "Deanna, I didn't mean . . . I mean, 
didn't you think the dinner was romantic?  I was only being 
charming."

"If that's your idea of charming I'd hate to see lewd."  Sam stopped, 
wringing his napkin in his hands.   "I think you should leave."

"Um . . . Deanna, it's _my_ quarters."

"Oh.  Oh, right."  Sam started toward the door.

"No, wait, please."  Sam tried not to flinch as Riker's hand closed on 
his arm.  "I'm sorry.  Can we try this again?  I mean, I'm getting the 
feeling that you'd like to have a nice, quiet evening with a friend 
without any pressure about . . . you know."

"Bingo," Sam stated.  Finally they were starting to understand each 
other.

"Yeah," Riker agreed, misinterpreting. "No pressure about, you know, 
bingo bango . . ."

"Bongo . . ." Sam finished.  His stomach did a strange gymnastics 
maneuver as pieces began to fall into place in his head.  "Al?" he said.

* * * *

"What is the matter with you, Ziggy?"  Tina demanded.  "Why haven't 
you been talking?"

"I haven't been in the mood to talk," the computer replied sullenly.  
"I've been far too depressed."

"Well, you'd better get undepressed or I'm going to throw a wrench 
through you!"

"Don't make idle threats, Tina."

"I'll give you idle threats . .."

Deanna broke in, amazed at the preposterous conversation.  "Ziggy, I 
don't think it's possible for you to be depressed.  You're a computer."

"Please do not presume to dictate what I can and cannot do.  I assure 
you, I am quite capable of being depressed.  Ever since Sam told me 
to read Shakespeare.  Now that I know what love is, I don't know 
how I could possibly be anything _but_ depressed."

"Why would knowing about love make you depressed?"  Deanna 
questioned.

From his corner, Gooshie grunted again.  "Knowing about love is 
enough to make anyone depressed."

"You hush," Tina snapped.

"Because until I found out what it was, I didn't know I was in it."

Tina stared.  Deanna blinked.  "You're in love?"  Tina said, astounded.

"Yes.  Deeply, hopelessly, unrequitedly."

"With whom?"  Deanna demanded.  This was getting ridiculous.

Either Ziggy didn't hear, or he had decided to ignore the question.  He 
sighed.  "Ever since that day, when he came, I knew there was 
something about him.  The memory of him, of his hands on my 
keyboard, of the brilliance of his mind and the beauty of his voice . . . 
it lingered with me, though I did not know why."  The drama in the 
computer's voice was worthy of the cheesiest of romance novels.  
"That's why I saved the files.  Then, when I read of Romeo and Juliet, 
it all came clear to me.  He was my love, but we were condemned to 
live forever apart, me here, he in the future . . . never again to meet 
. . ."

"Data?"  Deanna broke in.  "You're in love with Data?"

"Yes," Ziggy replied, sounding hurt.  "Is there something strange 
about that?"

"Is there something _not_ strange about that?"  Deanna looked at 
Tina, who was standing with her mouth hanging open, obviously at a 
loss.  "Never mind.  Go on, please."

"So I chose to take matters into my own hands.  It occurred to me 
that he may have left me a clue, a way of reaching him in the place 
where he was lost to me.  So I examined the files.  And I found it.  A 
means of directing Sam's leaps so that I could bring Data back here.  
But no matter how hard I try, I can't leap Sam into Data."

"That's because Data is an android," Deanna said sharply.  "You mean 
you figured out all the rest of this, but you can't comprehend that?  
He's a machine.  Sam can only leap into living beings."

"Yeah," Tina piped in.  "Living beings with a high degree of genetic 
similarity."

"Right," Deanna agreed, assuming Tina knew what she was talking 
about.

"So I am forever doomed to live alone?" Ziggy said plaintively.

"No, of course not," Tina soothed.  "You still have us."

"Damn," said Ziggy.

"Look," Deanna said.  "You really have to stop all this.  Sam doesn't 
belong in the future, and Data doesn't belong in the past.  You have to 
put everyone back where they belong."

"I don't _have_ to do anything," Ziggy retorted. 

"If you don't," Gooshie offered, "I'll dump all your fundamental 
memory cards.  You won't even remember your name, much less 
Romeo and Juliet."

"I'm surprised at you, Gooshie."  Ziggy's tone was sharp.  "You know 
that if you did that, I wouldn't be able to supply the information 
necessary to keep Sam oriented on his leaps."

"I said the fundamental cards, not the data cards."

There was a pause.  Ziggy hummed for a moment.  "Maybe we can 
work out a compromise."

"Good,"  said Gooshie.  "Then I'll just start removing these files . . ."

"No!" Tina protested.  "Not yet!  If you take out those files now, Sam 
will never get back to the right timeline."

"Are you sure?"  Gooshie looked skeptical.  "If we take out the files, 
then Sam will just leap again and everything will be back to normal."

"You don't know that!"  said Tina.  "You're just guessing."

Gooshie shrugged.  "Well . . ."

"I think what we need to do," Deanna broke in, "is talk to Sam.  Can 
we do that?"

"Sure," said Tina.  "We just have to go get Al."

"Then let's go do that."

"All right.  Follow me."

****

"If it isn't Al," Donna asked, "then who is it?"

Verbena folded her arms, studying the supine figure on the bed.  
"Well, best guess is it's a leapee."

"A leapee?  You mean Ziggy leaped Al?"

"That would make sense.  After all, it's happened before."

"Not like this," Donna protested.

"Nothing has _ever_ happened like this before.  Now all we have to 
do is . . ."

The door suddenly flew open and Tina burst in, followed by the 
leapee.  "Dr. Beeks, Ziggy's finally decided to talk.  Deanna asked him
 . . ."  She broke off suddenly, seeing Al on the hospital bed.  "Al!"  
she exclaimed, and scurried over to him.  "What's wrong with Al?"

"It looks like he's been leaped," Verbena said.  She moved toward 
Tina, drawing her gently away from the bed.  "In which case he'll be 
perfectly fine."

"Al leaped?"  Tina was becoming distraught.  "Where did he leap?  
Who did he leap into?"

"We don't know," Verbena soothed.  "But we'll find out.  Everything's 
going to be fine, Tina.  Don't worry."

"Deanna," Donna said quietly.  "Can you tell who it is?"

Deanna considered, a frown creasing her brow, then she shook her 
head.  "No.  It's very difficult to identify a person on the basis of 
emotional sensation under the best conditions, and this person is in a 
very deep state of unconsciousness.  I can sense very little."

"Well," said Verbena.  "In that case, I think it's time we had a long 
talk with Ziggy."

****

Riker was gaping.  "Sam?" he sputtered.  He backed away suddenly, 
putting his hands behind his back.  "Sam?"

"Al?"  Sam said again.

"Damn!"  Riker said.  "I finally get where I can cozy up to that little 
Betazoid beauty and it turns out to be you.  This is just . . . this is . . ."

"It's disgusting, that's what it is," Sam broke in.  "I can't believe you!  
I'm stranded here, waiting and waiting for you to show up, finally 
assuming you're not coming, and all you can think about is Deanna 
Troi.  You are . . . you're . . ."

"I know," Al said.  "I know, Sam.  I'm a real nozzle.  But it was just 
too . . . I mean, she is so . . ."

"If you ever . . . EVER . . . try to put your foot in my lap again I'm 
going to cut it off and shove it down your throat!"

Al was aghast.  "Sam!  You know I would _never_ do that . . . unless I 
thought you were a woman."

"Well I hope I'm never a woman again around you.  You are a pig!  
Do you know that?  You are a complete pig!  No wonder all your 
wives left you."

"Sam!   Will you calm down?  There's no need to get personal here."

Sam pushed a hand through his hair, trying to control himself.  This 
whole situation was making his skin crawl.  "I'm sorry, Al.  It's just
. . . This is really getting too weird to be believed."

"I know.  I feel pretty damn weird, myself."

"Ask Ziggy . . ."  He broke off.  "You _can't_ ask Ziggy, can you?"

"Um, well, no, not really.  I don't have a handlink, and I'm assuming 
the Project has no observer, since everything in the Imaging 
Chamber is tuned to me."

"So we're both stuck."

"Yeah, it looks that way.  Unless they figure out what's wrong with 
Ziggy, and get me leaped back and you leaped out of here.  In the 
mean time, I guess we're on our own."

Sam looked at his friend, still jolted that he looked like Will Riker.  "I 
think it's time we talked to LaForge."

****

Verbena was very angry with Ziggy.  So angry that, rather than 
talking to the computer via her wrist link, she led the parade of 
people down the hall to the control room, to confront him face-to-
face.

"Ziggy," she said firmly,  "I have some questions, and I want straight 
answers."

Ziggy whirred a moment.  "I suppose I am willing to consider 
answering."

"Why have you leaped Al?"

The answer did not come immediately.  It seemed that Ziggy was 
ruminating.  If Verbena hadn't known better, she'd have said Ziggy 
was pouting.

"He was getting too close," the computer finally said.  "I wanted to 
throw him off the trail."

Frustratingly unenlightened, Verbena threw up her hands.  "Too 
close to what?"

"To finding out what I'm doing."

"And what might that be?"

"Ziggy has taken control of the leaping process," Deanna offered.  "He 
has been using the files Data programmed into him when we had to 
replace Captain Picard.  That was five years ago on your timeline.  
Now he's trying to leap Sam into Commander Data."

"Why?"

"Ziggy's got a crush on him," Tina supplied.

Donna laughed outright.  The unexpected sound made Verbena jump.  
She had not heard Donna laugh in a long time.  "I knew it was a 
mistake when Sam told you to read Shakespeare."

"I have since read all the works of Danielle Steel, Victoria Holt, Jude 
Devereaux . . ."

"Yeah, we get the idea," Donna broke in.  "Listen, Ziggy.  This has got 
to stop.  Haven't you thought about what you're doing to Sam?"

There was a pause.  Finally Ziggy said, in a small voice,  "No, not 
really."

"If you bring Data here for yourself, you'll probably end up stranding 
Sam forever.  How would you feel about that?"

"I suppose . . . I suppose I would feel badly."

"You're being very selfish, Ziggy.  Do you honestly think Data feels 
the same way about you that you do about him?"

"I assume so."

"I'm sorry, Ziggy," Deanna said, "but Data is incapable of any emotion.  
Whatever you feel -- if you are, in fact, feeling anything at all -- he 
has no way of reciprocating."

Ziggy gave a fast, irritated whir.  "I don't believe you."

"It's true."

"I would much prefer to hear it from him."

"We can arrange that," said Donna sharply.  "Now, who did you leap 
Al into, and why is he unconscious?"

"Well . . ."  Ziggy hesitated.

"Spit it out, Ziggy!"  Donna snapped.  Ziggy's humming stuttered; he 
had probably not been expecting an attack from that quarter.  
Verbena certainly hadn't.  But Sam's life was in danger, and if there 
was any situation that could make Donna shine like steel, that was it. 

"It's Commander Riker," Ziggy said quickly.  This drew a response 
from Deanna: she drew in a quick gasp and stepped forward.

"What's wrong with him?  Why is he unconscious?"

"I don't know.  But he's not in any danger."

"Are you sure?"  Deanna's eyes turned to Verbena.

Verbena shrugged.  "He's stable.  He's just unconscious.  My guess is 
he'll stay unconscious when he's leaped back, but your medical staff 
shouldn't have any trouble reviving him.  But if he stays here much 
longer, that condition may change."

"Leap him back!"  Deanna demanded.  "Now!"

Ziggy was whirring frantically.  His friends were ganging up on him, 
and he didn't know how to take it.  "All right.  I'll leap him back.  But 
what do you want me to do with Sam?"

Donna turned to Deanna.  "Who would be most able to properly 
remove the files Data installed?"

"Probably Geordi," Deanna replied.  "He knows Data better than about 
anyone on the ship, and he also knows computers."

"All right," Donna said.  "Leap Sam into Geordi.  We'll clear things up 
between you and Data and get this project back to normal."

"But . . ."  Ziggy started to protest.

"Do it!"  Donna shouted.

"All right," Ziggy murmured, cowed.  "I'll do it."

****

They found LaForge in Engineering.  He came immediately to 
attention when he saw the commander and the counselor enter.

"What can I do for you, Commander, Counselor?"  he asked.

"We need to talk," Al said.  "Can we go somewhere private?"

"Sure," said LaForge.  He turned and led the way to an empty area 
near the back of engineering.  "Now, what . . ."

Sam didn't hear the rest of the sentence.  He was standing facing 
Geordi when he felt the leap take him, and had time for a split 
second of surprise that he had had no warning.  Then, suddenly, he 
was on the other side of the conversation, looking at Deanna Troi, 
who had a wide-eyed expression, and Will Riker.  Sam registered the 
slack look on the Commander's face and lunged to intercept as Riker 
slumped to the ground.