Message-Id: <199301061907.AA20523@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 IV

Katriena Knights

Sam's lunge was barely fast enough.  Deanna, too, had moved, and 
between the two of them, they managed to break Riker's fall.  
Unfortunately, they both fell with him.  Deanna took the 
Commander's face in her hands.  "Will?"  she said.  "Will, can you 
hear me?"

Sam watched, feeling woozy as the aftereffect of the leap wore off.  
Deanna slapped her insignia.  

"Troi to sickbay.  We need a doctor in Engineering, immediately.  It's 
Commander Riker."

Beverly Crusher's voice came back immediately.  "I'm on my way."

Sam shifted, trying to get into a position where he could check 
Riker's pulse.  Before he could, Deanna's hand closed on his arm.  
"Geordi!" she exclaimed.  "What happened to your VISOR?"

Sam froze.  No VISOR.  Without it, Geordi was blind.  He couldn't do 
anything, then, without giving himself away.  He blinked and 
unfocussed his eyes.  "I don't know.  It must have come off when I 
went to catch Commander Riker."

"Just hold still," Deanna said.  "I'll look."  She started to get up and 
suddenly sat back down, clutching her head.  "On second thought, 
maybe I'll just wait here for Beverly."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"I don't know.  I just feel dizzy."

"Well, don't move.  Dr. Crusher will be here any minute."

Conveniently, the door opened just then and Beverly entered, 
carrying her medical bag and a portable gurney.  She knelt next to 
Riker's inert form.  "Any idea what happened?" the doctor asked.

"He just collapsed," Sam said.  "He was getting ready to say something 
to me, and he just went down.  And then Deanna said she felt dizzy, 
too."

"What about you?" Beverly asked.  "Are you dizzy at all?"

"Yes," Sam said honestly.  "A little bit."

"Where's your VISOR?"

"I don't know.  I tried to catch the Commander and I think it must 
have popped off."

"You have a backup in your quarters, don't you?" Beverly said.

"Um, yeah," Sam answered.  He hoped he did.  Otherwise he would 
probably end up stuck in his quarters for the duration.

"Good.  I'm going to evacuate this area.  We might have some kind of 
a gas leak."  She tapped her insignia.  "Security, I need a full 
evacuation of the engineering section.  I also need some help down 
here -- I have three officers down."

A moment later, an alarm sounded above them and the other 
occupants of the section began to move toward the doors.  Beverly 
administered a syringe of something to Commander Riker, then 
scanned Deanna and Sam.  "I don't see any signs of poison.  I'm going 
to look you both over in sickbay."

The doors opened, letting people in this time instead of out.  
Lieutenant Worf entered, followed by three other men in gold and 
black uniforms.  The men dispersed throughout the section, making 
sure the evacuation was taking place in an orderly fashion.  Worf 
came straight to Beverly.

"What is happening?" he questioned.

"I'm not sure," Beverly answered.  She was setting up the gurney.  
"Commander Riker is unconscious, and Counselor Troi and 
Commander LaForge are both feeling dizzy.  There may be a gas leak.  
In any case, I need to get Will and Deanna to sickbay.  Could you 
escort Geordi to his quarters?  He's lost his VISOR, and I don't want 
anyone in here looking for it until we're sure there's no danger."

"Certainly," Worf replied.  He bent and lifted Riker to the gurney, 
then gently took Sam's arm, helping him to his feet.  Deanna stood, as 
well.  She swayed a bit and Worf immediately caught her.  "Will you 
be all right, Counselor Troi?"

"I think so, Worf," Deanna answered, leaning into him.

"All right, then," Beverly said.  "Let's go.  And, Geordi, I want to see 
you in sickbay as soon as you get your VISOR."

****

Al was surprised to awaken on his back on the waiting room floor.  
Slowly, he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.  His head hurt, and 
he couldn't remember how he had gotten here.  The last thing he 
recalled clearly was going to bed last night.  And he was still in his 
pajamas.

"Don't move," said a voice from the door.  Al looked up to see 
Verbena charging into the room, stethoscope at the ready.  "Just stay 
where you are."

"Wh . . ." Al started, then broke off as Verbena pushed him back to 
the floor, applying the cold stethoscope to his chest.  "What's going 
on?"

Verbena hushed him and listened for a moment, then straightened.  
"How do you feel?"

"Kind of weird," Al answered.  "What's going on?  Why am I in here?"

"You don't remember?"

Al considered.  He had a flash of memory about . . . no, it was gone.  
Something about Sam.  He shuddered at a half-formed remembrance.  
"No, I don't."

"Ziggy leaped you," Verbena said.  "You just came back."

Al sat back up again and stood slowly as Verbena held his arm.  "I 
leaped?"

"Yes, you leaped.  You don't remember anything about it?"

"I don't know.  Not really."  He rubbed his head, befuddled.  "I 
remember something.  I can't quite get hold of it.  Where's Sam?  Is 
he all right?"

"Tina stayed to check with Ziggy.  With any kind of luck, he's leaped 
into Geordi LaForge, and LaForge will be able to help us reprogram 
this crazy computer."

"You found out what's wrong with Ziggy?"  _That_ Al remembered.

"Yeah.  Please don' t ask.  I'll let Tina fill you in.  Anyway, we should 
have this all cleared up pretty soon.  Why don't you go back to your 
room and get dressed, and I'll go check on our leapee."

"Yeah, okay.  I'll meet you at the waiting room in a few minutes."

Verbena nodded.  "You're sure you feel okay?"

Al waved her off.  "Yeah, I'm fine.  It's just a leap.  No problem."

He tried to work up a saunter as he headed for the door, but he was 
just a little too tired.  Verbena gave him a motherly smile and went 
on her way to the waiting room.

****

Worf escorted Deanna to sickbay first, then led Sam to Geordi's 
quarters.  "We will search engineering thoroughly as soon as we 
determine that it is safe," he informed Sam.  "I am certain we can 
find your VISOR."

"It's okay, Worf," Sam reassured him.  "I have an extra."

"But now you have only one," Worf said.  "That is not an acceptable 
situation if, without it, you are disabled."

"No, no, you're right.  It's not acceptable.  But if we can't find the one 
I lost, maybe we can replicate a new one."

Worf shook his head.  "Replicated objects are never as reliable as the 
originals.  We will do our best to find it."

Sam nodded.  He had a feeling Worf was actually displaying some 
affection for Geordi in his concern.  "Thank you, Worf.  I appreciate 
that."

Worf opened the door for Sam and, once inside, helped him locate the 
extra VISOR.  "If you need anything," the Klingon said as he left the 
room,  "please call me."

"Thanks, Worf."

Worf gave a curt nod.  Sam returned it with a smile.

So, now he had the VISOR.  The question was, what was he supposed 
to do with it.  Geordi wore it with the temple pieces attached to 
implants in his head.  Sam had no such implants.  The other problem 
with it was that it was a solid piece of metal.  If Sam figured out how 
to attach it to his temples, it would just hang there in front of his 
eyes, obscuring his vision.  He sat for a time, puzzling over it, then 
addressed the computer.

"Computer," he said.  "Can you replicate this object?"

"Please place the object in the replicator for analysis."

Sam did so.  The replicator hummed for a moment.  "This replicator 
does not contain sufficient materials to duplicate functional parts.  
However, it is possible to duplicate the form."

"Will it look exactly like the original?"

"Affirmative."

"Okay, then, duplicate the form exactly, except I want a row of 
pinholes along the front.  They have to be small enough that they 
won't be visible from the outside, but there have to be enough of 
them that a person wearing the VISOR could see through them.  Also, 
I need some kind of a transparent earpiece so that it can be worn by 
someone without temple implants."  He paused.  It seemed like a 
suspicious request.  "It's for a Halloween costume," he finished.  He 
didn't think the computer needed justification for his actions, but in 
case this conversation was being recorded, he figured he'd better 
cover himself.

The replicator whirred again.  After a moment, a second VISOR 
appeared next to the first.  Sam picked it up.  As far as he could tell, 
the two VISORs were identical, except for the cleverly disguised ear 
pieces on the fake one.  They were made of transparent plastic, so 
they were nearly invisible, as well.  He slipped the VISOR on.  The 
front was filled with pinholes.  He could see through it fairly well, 
and when he turned it around to look at the front, he couldn't see the 
holes.  
He went to the mirror to double check.  It looked convincing.  He 
couldn't even see the ear pieces, and he knew where to look.

"Thank you very much, computer," Sam said.  "You've been quite 
useful."

The computer did not answer.  Sam stepped through the door and 
headed for sickbay.

****

Al sat by, quietly sucking on his cigar, while Verbena explained the 
situation to Geordi.  Geordi nodded from time to time.  He 
remembered Sam Beckett, and recognized the reflection when he was 
shown the mirror -- though exactly _how_ he saw the reflection was 
a little beyond Al.  He was also quite willing to help.

"Deanna was right," he said.  "Data doesn't experience any emotional 
response.  Or, at least, according to him he doesn't.  If confronted, 
he'll back up what she said."

"Maybe it would be best not to confront him," Al put in.

Verbena turned to him.  "What do you mean?"

"If we stage a situation where Sam confronts Data, Ziggy will more 
than likely think it's been . . . pre-arranged or something.  He might 
not buy it.  But if we do it more sneaky-like, we can resolve the issue 
without Ziggy being suspicious."

"You mean ask a more indirect question, so Ziggy can come to his own 
conclusions," Geordi said.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, Al," Verbena said, "Sneakiness and subterfuge are your 
speciality, so I'll leave that up to you.  In the mean time, I think 
Geordi should have a chat with Gooshie and find out if he can, indeed, 
take care of our problem."

"Sounds good to me," said Geordi.

****

In sickbay, Dr. Crusher was finishing her examinations of Deanna and 
Riker.  Both were, by now, sitting up in the medical beds, Riker 
rubbing his head.

"Well," Beverly was saying as Sam approached, "you both look 
normal.  I can't see any trace of poison or virus or anything else.  
How do you feel?"

"I feel fine, now," Deanna replied.

Riker grimaced.  "I have a hell of a headache, but other than that, I'm 
okay."

Beverly responded with a hypo to Riker's arm.  "That should help."  
She turned to Sam.  "What about you, Geordi?  How do you feel?"

Sam shrugged.  "I'm fine."

Beverly had pointed her scanner at him, scanned him, and turned the 
instrument back off before he had a chance to protest.  Sam grabbed 
a breath and held on to it.  

"Well, you look normal," Beverly concluded.  Sam carefully let the 
breath go.  "I'll tell you what.  I'd rather not have you three go back 
to your quarters to rest in case something happens, and I know you 
don't want to stay here.  Why don't you all go to a nice, public place, 
like Ten Forward, and just sit for about an hour.  If you're still 
feeling all right, then you can report back to duty."

"That sounds reasonable," said Riker, sliding off the bed.

"And no alcohol," Beverly added.  "Ask Guinan for some fruit juice."  
Her communicator trilled.  "Crusher here."

Worf's voice spoke.  "Dr. Crusher, we have completed a scan of 
Engineering and have discovered no indication of foreign substances.  
We also have not recovered Commander LaForge's VISOR."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."  She made a shooing gesture to her patients 
and Sam.  "Go on, all of you.  I'll be by to check on you later."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied.  Beverly gave him an impish grin.

Ten Forward was one area of the ship where Sam had not yet been.
  It looked to be a social gathering place, where people were standing 
at a long bar or sitting at tables, eating, drinking, talking and flirting.  
Data was sitting at a table by himself contemplating a tall, orange 
beverage.  Riker steered them toward his table.

"Hello, Commander Riker, Commander LaForge, Counselor Troi," Data 
said, politely inclining his head to each in turn.  

"What's that you're drinking?"  Riker asked him as they sat down.

Data considered the glass.  "I am not certain, Counselor.  I asked the 
replicator to generate a random drink for me.  I am not certain if it 
generated a random combination, or a random selection of 
predetermined combinations."

"What does it taste like?"  Sam queried.

Data pushed the drink toward him.  "Perhaps you can tell me."

Sam picked up the glass.  Before it reached his mouth, he heard a 
familiar grinding noise behind him.

"Beverly said no alcohol," Al's voice reminded him.

Sam arrested his movement and set the glass back down.  "Dr. 
Crusher said we shouldn't drink anything."

"I see," Data replied.  "In that case, I shall have to ask the bartender.  
He picked up the glass and, nodding farewell, started toward the bar.  
Deanna and Riker were grinning at him.

"Go with him," Al suggested.  "This might be a good chance for you to 
talk to him."

"I think I'll go see what he finds out," Sam said to his companions.  
"He's got me curious."  He stepped away from the table, asking Al 
quickly under his breath,  "Is Ziggy listening?"

Al shrugged.  "As far as I know."

Data's arrival at the bar attracted the attention of the bartender, a 
black woman with no eyebrows and a large, octagonal hat.  The 
electric blue draperies on the hat were wimple-like; she looked like a 
psychedelic nun.

"Good evening, Data," she said.  "What can I do for you?"

"Guinan," Data began, "I have requested the replicator to supply me 
with a random drink, and this is what I was given.  I wish to know 
what it is."

Guinan looked at Sam, then at Data, then abruptly back at Sam.  Sam 
tensed a little, but Guinan's gaze settled on the drink.  "Why do you 
want to know?  Won't that take the fun out of it?"

Data cocked his head.  "The exercise was not intended to be 
recreational.  I wished to determine how the computer would 
respond to my request."

"How will knowing what it is help?"

"I wish to know if the computer selected each ingredient randomly, 
or if it made a random selection based on a series of preselected 
combinations "

"So you want to know if it randomized the ingredients, or just the 
menu."

"That is correct."

Al was watching the dialogue intently, shaking his head.  "This guy's 
a real hoot," he said sarcastically.

"Well . . ."  Guinan said hesitantly a strange little grin-smirk on her 
face.  "Do you like what it came up with?  Isn't that what's 
important?"

"I have no capacity to like or dislike the flavor of the drink, as this 
would require an emotional response.  I can merely register the fact 
that it is very sweet and has a citrus quality, as well as a bitter 
aftertaste reminiscent of grapefruit.  I can calculate the alcoholic 
content at approximately 7.3 percent, and I can identify seven 
separate ingredients, as well as . . ."

"It sounds to me," Guinan broke in, "like you don't need me to tell 
you what it is.  Just compare the ingredients to the lists on the 
menu."

"I attempted to do that," Data informed her, "but most of the most 
logical candidates were labeled 'Secret Recipe.'"

Guinan grinned at that.  "Give me the drink."

"Well," said Al as Guinan sampled the random beverage, "if the 
android is incapable of liking or disliking a drink, he's obviously 
incapable of feeling any affection toward a person, or a computer."

In his pocket, the handlink squawked.  Al pulled it out and smacked 
it.  "Ziggy's not convinced."

"Yack," Guinan said, swallowing the drink with difficulty.  "This is 
terrible.  I think we can safely say that the computer randomized the 
contents."

Data quirked an eyebrow.  "Most interesting.  Thank you very much 
for your input."

Guinan wiped her mouth, still grimacing.  "You're welcome."

Data continued to drink, apparently unaffected by the objectionable 
flavor.  "Have you decided what you will wear tomorrow, Geordi?"

Sam looked up, startled.  "Huh?"

"When we spoke earlier today, you were concerned about what you 
should wear when you take Silina Matthews to see the London 
Philharmonic tomorrow.  Have you made that decision yet?"

"Um . . ."  Sam hesitated, wondering who Silina Matthews was.

"Good," Al said.  "He's dating again.  Must be getting over that what's-
her-face, that Romulan spy girl he was with before."

"Yeah," Sam said, agreeing with Al, then realized he had 
inadvertantly answered Data.  "No.  I mean, no, I haven't decided 
yet."  He paused.  "What do you think?"

"I heard her mention at one time that she liked blue," Data answered.  
"Perhaps it would be good to wear blue."

Sam considered.  "What do you think of her, Data?"

"I think she is an efficient member of the crew.  She seems to have a 
good background and sufficient knowledge . . ."

"No, Data.  I mean, do you like her?  Do you think she's pretty?"

There was a pause.  "I cannot say that I like her or dislike her, 
Geordi.  I am not capable of such feeings.  You know that."

"Well . . . I know.  It's just . . . well, you always hope your friends 
approve."

"According to my understanding of the human conception of beauty, 
Sirina is quite attractive.  And she seems to laugh quite a lot when 
she is with you.  That seems to me to be a good sign that she has 
some affection for you."

"Well, I guess that's good, anyway."  Sam was having some difficulty 
following the conversation.  The handlink was making a very strange, 
hiccupping noise.  He gave Al a questioning look, most of which was 
obscured by the VISOR.

"I think Ziggy's crying," Al said.  "I think he finally got it through his 
thick head that Data doesn't love him."

Sam looked at Data, who was once again analyzing the orange liquid 
in his glass.  "I think he may be a she."

Al looked skeptical.  "Well, no matter what gender that neurotic pile 
of circuits has decided to become, I think it's time we got rid of those 
files.  See you later, Sam."

****

"It's a go," Al said, breezing into the control room.  "Get rid of the 
files."

"No,"  Ziggy said firmly.

Al stopped in his tracks, stunned.  "What?  You heard him say it.  
He's totally incapable of feeling anything about you."

"The files are all I have left of him.  I don't want to give them up."

"Oh, please," said Al.  "This is crazy.  We're taking the files out, and 
that's that."

"No."

Al was stunned again.  The voice was Donna's.  "Whose side are you 
on?  If we don't get those files out, we'll never get Sam back where 
he belongs."

But Donna shook her head.  "You don't know that.  Geordi, would it be 
possible to leave a few of the files?"

Geordi shrugged.  "Shouldn't be a problem.  There are a couple of 
non-essential files I can leave in."

"But how does Sam get back?"  Tina put in.

"From what I can tell by looking at them," Geordi said, "the files are 
set up so that, if they're withdrawn in a certain order, the last one 
out will trigger a leap sequence to put Sam back on the proper 
timeline."

"Can you trigger the sequence without taking out all the files?"

"Sure."

"All right, then," Al said.  "Get to it."

****

"I'll see your five," Riker stated firmly, laying the chips down on the 
table, "and raise you ten."  He lifted his eyebrows, indicating to Sam 
that it was his turn.

Sam examined his cards.

"Nice hand," said a voice at his shoulder.  Sam tried not to jump out 
of his skin.

"Thanks a lot, Al," he mumbled.

"What?"  Riker said, peering at him.  His poker face was set and firm 
beneath his beard.  Data and Deanna had already folded and were 
watching the proceedings with interest.

"I said you're thinking awfully small," Sam said.  "I'll see your ten 
and raise you fifty."

Riker tweaked an eyebrow.  "I have to see this hand.  I'll call."  He 
deposited the chips on the table and picked up his cards, hesitating.

"No, you first," said Sam.

Riker grinned a little, letting some of his self-confidence ooze.  He 
laid down four queens and a deuce.  

Sam nodded, impressed.  Then he laid down a three and four aces.  
"Sorry, sir," he said.  He pulled the pile of chips over to his corner of 
the table.  "More drinks, anyone?"

"See if you can get Guinan to bring us another one of those juice 
mixes," Deanna said.

"Great," said Sam.  "I'll be right back."

He crossed the room to the bar and waved for Guinan's attention.  
She nodded and gave him a thin smile.  _There's something strange 
about that woman_, Sam thought, _and it's not just her hats._

"Geordi and Gooshie are pulling the files right now," Al said.

"How long is it going to take?"

"Not long," said Al.  "They have to bypass some security first.  Ziggy's 
not being particularly helpful, I'm afraid."

"Good," Sam said.  "The sooner we get out of here, the happier I'll be."

"Can I help you, Commander LaForge?"  Guinan had meandered over.  
"Or shall I just leave you here talking to yourself?"

Sam was taken aback.  He'd thought he was being suitably discreet.  
"Um, no, I was finished talking to myself, thanks.  We'd like four 
more of your juice mixes, please."

"The same one, or another?"

"A different one, I think.  Thanks."  Guinan nodded as she moved 
away.

"Wow," said Al.  "Creepy lady.  What happened to her eyebrows?"

"How should I know?"  He paused, scratching the back of his neck.  
"She's really been giving me the creeps.  She keeps . . . looking at 
me."

"Maybe she thinks you're cute.  Don't worry about it, Sam.  You'll be 
out of here in no time."

Guinan returned with a tray of drinks.  Carefully, she set it on the 
table, then gave Sam a frank, even look.

"Commander LaForge," she said.  "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Sam said, trying to act nonchalant.  He had a strange 
feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't an approaching leap.

Guinan reached up quite calmly and removed his fake VISOR.  "When 
did you regain your sight?"

Sam froze, staring.  It was too late to play blind; she'd seen his eyes 
and knew they'd seen her back.  A silence had fallen over Ten 
Forward, and he could feel eyes on the back of his neck from the 
table where his companions were preparing to deal out another 
hand.  Next to him, Sam heard the handlink squeak.

"I'm outta here," said Al.  "Hang on, Sam."

****

Al charged from the Imaging Chamber to the control room, nearly 
dropping the handlink as he skidded around the corner.  "Hurry up!"  
he called.  "Hurry up!  They're on to Sam."

Geordi looked up from the keyboard.  "We're having trouble getting 
into the files.  Whoever programmed this put in a major security 
failsafe.  Ziggy needs three separate codes to authorize entry."

"What do you mean?  Ziggy's been using the files, but he can't get 
into them to erase them?"

"Right.  Ziggy can use them from the inside without the authorization.  
But the files can't be deleted until we get through security from the 
outside.  There's nothing Ziggy can do about it.  He's programmed 
that way."

"Well, you'd better get through fast, or they're going to jettison Sam 
into space or something."

Geordi shook his head.  "They're not going to jettison him into space.  
The worst they could do is throw him in the brig."

"Well, do you want to leap back in the brig?"

Geordi shrugged.  "Not particularly, but I'm sure it wouldn't take long 
for me to get back out."

Al threw up his hands in disgust.  "So much for a sense of urgency."

"It'll be fine," said Geordi, quite calmly.  "Just keep your pants on."

"Are you sure?"  This was Donna, from over Geordi's shoulder.  
Geordi looked back at her.

"I'm positive," he said with a gentle smile.  "I have no intention of 
letting him get hurt.  I owe him one."

"Well, he doesn't know that," Al protested.  

"Well, why don't you go tell him instead of bothering me?"  Geordi 
shot back.

Al rolled his eyes and ran back to the Imaging Chamber.

****

Sam had the distinct feeling that he was not going to be alive much 
longer.  Lieutenant Worf had come to Ten Forward to deal with this 
matter personally, and had dragged Sam none too gently to the brig.  
Now the Klingon had a death grip on Sam's arm and was staring 
down into his face, his hot, unpleasant breath beating on him in 
waves.  Sam had the feeling Worf had death on his mind, and he 
wasn't sure he could count on the others to defend him.

"You are an imposter," Worf stated.  "Do you know how we deal with 
imposters?"

"No," Sam replied.  "And I don't think I want to know."

He was relieved to hear the Imaging Chamber door and see Al 
appear, but the look on Al's face was not as comforting as he had 
hoped.

"They're still trying to get past the security," Al told him.  "Geordi 
says you'll be fine . . ."

"I'll be fine?"  Sam burst out.  "I'll be fine?  Yeah, I'll be just dandy 
after this . . . this _thing_ gets done banging me around."

Worf grabbed Sam's other arm and picked him up off the ground.  
"Who are you talking to?"  He roared into Sam's face.

"Um . . . um . . .  Nobody," Sam stuttered.  "Nobody at all.  I'm sorry."

Riker touched Worf's arm and Worf reluctantly set Sam back down.

"Come on out," Riker said.  Worf started to protest, but Riker gestured 
for him to come, and Worf did.  The force field blocking the front of 
the room shimmered, dropped, then came back up.  Sam faced his 
accusers.  Riker, Worf and Deanna looked back at him, sharing looks 
of anger and befuddlement.

"I'm no danger to you," Sam said.  "I promise you that."

"Counselor?" Riker questioned.

Deanna shook her head.  "I sense no hostility from him.  In fact . . ."  
She hesitated, unsure of herself.  "He seems familiar, somehow."

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed.  "You know me, Deanna.  Remember?"

"Watch it, Sam," Al called.  He had popped in on the other side of the 
force field.  "If she doesn't remember you, you can't tell her who you 
are.  You might screw up everything."

Sam bit down on what he had been about to blurt out.  Surely 
Deanna would remember him; they had talked during his first leap to 
the Enterprise, when Geordi had identified him as an imposter.  But 
the counselor was shaking her head.

"I can't place it.  I just can't remember."

"Oh, great," Al said.  "When you leaped into her it must have messed 
up her memory.  Riker probably doesn't remember leaping, either."

"Commander," Sam said.  "Do you remember anything strange 
happening to you in the last few days?"

Riker frowned.  "No.  What does this have to do with anything?"

"No . . . I don't know, memory loss?  Maybe feeling like you'd lost a 
day or two?"

"I don't . . ." Riker started, but Worf roared through him.

"This is not relevant!  You are not to be asking questions.  You are 
merely attempting to confuse the commander in order to trick him 
into freeing you.  Now, be silent."

"Better do as he says, Sam," Al advised.  "I don't like the looks of this 
gun."

Sam let his head sag.  He could feel his breath coming too fast.  He 
was on the verge of panic.  Swallowing, he said calmly, "I guess I'll 
just have to wait, then.  How much longer until I'm out of here?"

"You will be here until we decide to release you," Worf stated.  Al 
rolled his eyes and took a drag on his cigar, waiting out the tirade so 
he could talk.

"We've summoned the captain," Riker said.  "He'll decide what to do 
with you."

"Are you guys done?"  Al demanded.  He poked at the handlink.  
"Geordi's still playing with the security, but it looks like they're 
getting close.  Shouldn't be too long."

"Good."  said Sam.

"In the mean time," Riker stated, "you will remain here.  There will 
be two armed guards outside the cell, so don't try anything."

"Like I could," Sam muttered.  He watched, surly, as the Enterprise 
officers departed.  Deanna gave him one last, searching look as she 
left the room.

"If she could just remember, I could probably be out of here," Sam 
said.  With the others gone, he felt his control slipping.  His voice 
came a little shaky.

Al shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.  "It doesn't really matter."  He 
walked toward the force field.  "We'll have you leaped out of here in 
no time, and then Geordi will be back where he belongs, and 
everything will be . . ."

Al had reached the plane of the force field.  He had also disappeared.

Sam stared, frantic.  "Al!  Al!  What happened? Where are you?"

Al's image backed up out of the cell.  "That was weird."

"You're telling me.  What happened?"

"I don't know.  It looks like . . . It looks like this force field whatcha 
ma hoosie is interfering with my signal.  When I walk into it, you 
disappear."

"No, _you_ disappear," Sam corrected.  "What does that mean?"

"I don't know.  But it might mean . . ."  The handlink chirped and 
twittered.  Al consulted it.  "Oh, here we go.  They're getting ready to 
pull the files."

"Great.  Get me out of here."

"Okay," said Al.  "Here we go.  Bye bye."

Sam felt the jerk in the pit of his stomach, and closed his eyes.  This 
was one leap he was more than happy to be departing.  He felt a 
tingle . . .

Then nothing.  He opened his eyes.  He was still in the brig.  Al was 
staring at him, finger poised over the handlink.

"Oh, boy," Al said.

****
When Al charged into the control room, Donna, Gooshie, Verbena and 
Tina were all huddled over Geordi's shoulder, looking at the terminal.

"What happened?" Donna demanded of Geordi.

Geordi shook his head.  "I don't know.  There's some kind of 
interference.  

"It's a force field," Al put in.  They all looked up.  "They've got him in 
the brig, and the force field on the door is interfering with the signals 
we're sending.  If I go past the field, he can't see me."

"Hmmm," said Geordi.

'Well?"  Al snapped.  "What are you going to do about it?"

"I can't do anything about it," Geordi replied calmly.  "This equipment 
is too primitive.  You're going to have to go back and do whatever 
you can do to get him out of the brig.  Otherwise, we just plain can't 
leap him."

"Oh, boy," said Donna.

****

Sam laid his hand against the force field.  It felt like a solid, plastic 
wall, and did not give in the slightest.  He leaned into it, putting his 
whole weight behind his hand.  Nothing.  A sudden surge of anger 
took him and he slammed it with his fist.  Still nothing but a sore fist.  
The guards outside were ignoring him, probably because they knew 
how fruitless his efforts would be.

"Geordi can't do anything from our end," Al announced as he 
emerged from the grinding, glowing door.  "You're going to have to 
get outside the force field.  Geordi's ready to run the sequence again 
as soon as you do."

That was not what Sam had wanted to hear.  He felt the panic 
returning in a surge.  "And exactly how am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know."

"Thanks a lot."  Sam closed his eyes.  His heart was beating so hard 
he could barely think over the noise of it.  "Is there a button out 
there?  Something that deactivates the field?"

Al looked, poking around, through and behind the standing guards.  
"Yeah, there's some kind of control panel over here.  But what good 
does that do?  I can't push any of the buttons."

"Do you think either of those guys can see you?"

Shrugging, Al proceeded to test the possibility, waving his hands in 
front of the guards' faces and shouting at them.  No response.  
"Sorry," Al told Sam.  "I'd have to completely retune my frequency to 
get through to these lumps."

"That would take too long," Sam decided.

"So what else can we do?"

"I'm just going to have to convince somebody to let me out."

Just then the door opened, and Captain Picard entered, followed by 
Worf and two other security guards.  Sam jumped eagerly to the 
force field.

"Yeah," Al muttered.  "Good luck."

In his usual, cool manner, Picard crossed the floor and took a stance 
in front of the force field.  "He looks like Geordi," he muttered to 
Worf.

"He is _not_ Commander LaForge,"  Worf stated in an undertone.  
"Look at his eyes."

Picard nodded.  Sam wondered what his eyes looked like.  When he'd 
looked at himself in the mirror before donning the VISOR, his eyes 
had looked just like Geordi's; strangely white, as if covered with a 
membrane.  But they had also looked focused, and had followed his 
own image in the mirror.

"Who are you?"  Picard asked.

"I wouldn't answer that," Al suggested.

"I can't answer that question, sir,"  Sam stated.

"And why is that?"

"Because to do so might endanger my chances of returning where I 
belong."

"And where is that?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that right now, either."

Picard's lips tightened.  "How did you get on board this ship?"

"It was an accident, sir.  I'm not supposed to be here."

"That, at least, is true," Worf rumbled.

"Where, then, is Commander LaForge?"  Picard went on.  "What have 
you done with him?"

"Commander LaForge is fine, Captain.  When I go back where I came 
from, he'll come back here, and everything will be back to what it's 
supposed to be.  But I need your help doing that."

"How so?"

"I need to be on the other side of the force field."

Worf growled.  Sam jumped.  He had never heard a noise quite like 
it, not even out of an attacking lion.  And he'd had occasion to be 
uncomfortably close to one of those.

"He is lying," Worf told Picard.  "He is attempting to escape."

Picard considered a moment, then nodded.  "Yes, it appears that 
way."

"Tough crowd," Al said.

"Listen," Sam pleaded.  The panic was building to the point where he 
could barely control his voice anymore.  "I'm telling the truth.  I'm 
not supposed to be here, and if you'll let me outside of the force field for just one minute, I'll go away, and Geordi will come back.  I swear 
to you.  On my honor."

The Klingon suddenly became serious.  "That is a solemn oath to trifle 
with in this manner."

"I'm not trifling,"  Sam said, trembling.  "I'm dead serious."

Worf looked at Picard, who lifted his eyebrows and touched his 
insignia.

"Counselor Troi, please report to the brig."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Al said.  "She'll tell them you're 
not lying, and then we'll be on our way."

"I would like to see you repeat your story to our Counselor," Picard 
told Sam.  "She is better qualified than I to make judgements in these 
matters."

"That's fine.  I'm more than happy to talk to her."

"Me, too," said Al.  "No problem."

Sam barely registered the comment.  _It's not going to work_, he was 
thinking.  _She's not going to remember.  I'm not getting back.  I'm 
not getting back.  I have to get back . . .  God, let her remember . . ._

Deanna arrived shortly.  "Yes, Captain?"

"I'd like an evaluation of the honesty of our prisoner," Picard told 
her.

"Of course, Captain."  She stepped up to the force field.  "Who are 
you?"

Sam bit the inside of his lip until he tasted blood, coppery against his 
tongue.  "Do we have to go through all of this again?  I can't tell you 
who I am right now, or I might not be able to go back.  I came here 
by accident, and if you'll let me past the force field for just a minute 
or two, I'll go away, and you'll have Geordi back.  It's that simple."

Deanna pursed her lips.  "He's hiding something.  On the surface, he is 
telling the truth, but there is an undercurrent of deception."

Worf looked self-satisfied.  "So much for your honor."

"What deception?"  Al exclaimed.  "You're not lying."

"It's just a theory that going outside the force field will work, but 
that's all we have to go on."  His voice was shaking again, in his 
desparation, but his audience seemed unmoved.  "Let's put it this 
way.  We're having trouble getting our retrieval equipment to work, 
and if I go outside the force field, there's a good chance that 
everything will go back to normal."

Picard shook his head.  "I don't buy it."

"You don't have to buy it!"  Al shouted.  "Just _do_ it!"

Suddenly, the dam broke.  Sam couldn't hold it back any longer.  He 
flung himself up against the force field, so hard that Deanna stepped 
back.  "Why won't you believe me?  All of you people went through 
this!  Deanna, I talked to you before, I showed you who I was.  Why 
can't any of you remember?  WHY CAN'T YOU REMEMBER?"

He was enraged, and further fired by sheer panic.  The emotion had 
become a living thing, possessing him.  He threw himself against the 
force field, again, again.  It was like throwing himself into a wall.  
Picard took an involuntary step back as Worf lifted his phaser.  The 
captain gestured to him not to shoot.

"JUST LET ME OUT!!"  Sam screamed.

Al had stepped back, as well, and looked frightened.  He stabbed at 
the handlink.  "Ziggy, Sam's losing it up here.  You'd better figure 
something out and figure it out fast!"

Sam flung himself again.   His face struck the force field and he felt 
his lip split open with the impact.  Even he was appalled at what he 
was doing, but he couldn't control it.  It was as if he was watching 
someone else.  Some coherent part of him heard Al shouting at him, 
trying to get through, saying something about hurting himself if he 
didn't stop.  But he didn't stop.  He couldn't.

Suddenly he was on the floor, his vision wobbling, blood in his eyes.  
"Let me out . . ."  He heard the voice sobbing and did not recognize it 
as his own.  "Let me out . . . I have to get back . . . I can't . . . I can't 
. . ."  There was some reason, some terrible, painful reason.  "I have 
to get back . . ."

"Sam, it's gonna be all right.  Now just calm down."  Al's voice, shaky.
  Al was scared.  So was Sam.  Then another voice -- Beverly's.

"I can't treat him if I can't get to him," she was saying.  Picard must
 have summoned her.

"He is acting irrationally," Worf stated.  "He may harm you."

A haze was descending over Sam's vision.  He could barely see 
Beverly through it.  She was gesturing with a hypo.  "This'll stop him 
from hurting me.  Now let the shield down, just long enough for me 
to take care of this."

Worf looked at Picard, who nodded curtly after a brief pause.  
Beverly took a step forward, and there was a hissing sound as the 
force field came down.

"Now, Ziggy!"  Al shouted.  "Now!"  

Sam looked up at Al.  Al was slapping the handlink angrily.  "Dammit, 
hurry up!  We don't have that much time!"

Beverly bent next to Sam and administered the contents of the hypo.  
Sam felt a spinning sensation, then his body went numb.  He could 
still see, barely.  The doctor was working quickly, treating his head 
wound.  She would be done in a matter of seconds.

"Ziggy!"  Al screamed.

Beverly sat back, stood.  Worf reached for the button . . .

And Sam leaped.

****

"Thank God," Verbena breathed.

Shaking, Donna eased herself into the chair from which Geordi 
LaForge had just disappeared.  "Did it work?"  she asked.

There was a hum from Ziggy.  "Dr. Beckett appears to have been 
successfully withdrawn from Commander LaForge's persona.  He is 
now in transit.  All appears to be normal."

Donna let out a quiet breath.  "Normal,"  she muttered.  She didn't 
know what the word meant anymore.

Verbena laid a hand on her shoulder.  "He'll be fine."

Donna closed her eyes.  "I don't want him fine.  I want him back."

Slowly, she eased herself from the chair and began the long trek 
back to the room where, once again, she would go to sleep alone.