Date: Tue, 22 Jun 93 09:50:23 MDT
From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (Tonster)
Message-Id: <9306221550.AA05251@banshee.vla.nrao.edu>
To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com
Subject: All Soul's Night -- Part 7 (the end)

				All Soul's Night

				   Part VII

It wasn't as bad as Gooshie made it out to be, Al thought in retrospect.
He looked around the newly redesigned control room for the project and
marveled at the changes that had been made.  He looked over at Gooshie
and cocked a grin.

"Just bring money, kid.  That's all it takes."  Al said as he walked
around the control room.  There were several reconfigurable touch screen
interfaces.  Al touched one and it winked into life.  He touched several
colored zones and brought up a power display on the monitor that was just
above the panel.  Pressing another colored zone caused the display to go 
blank.  The control pedistal had been redesigned as well, no more a
clunky looking box, but a streamlined monitor and control station with
a small but detailed holographic display.

Almost everything had been changed, but Ziggy remained the same.  Al looked
up at the still dark sphere.  It had been close to seven years since she
had "gone to sleep," as Verbena said.  The closest thing that Gooshie and
Verbena could come to was that the shock of having Sam vanish caused
Ziggy to go into a coma.  Gooshie was reluctant to try a full restart, for
he had no idea what would happen to Ziggy.  Al made the decision to let
her run "as is."  All of the basic functions were still operational, with
the exceptions of the imaging chamber and the accelerator.

Al looked around one last time.  "Damn -- hell of a ride while it lasted,
eh, Gooshie?"

Gooshie walked up and activated the central monitor routine.  It started
up, and showed a null indication.  He left it running.

"Sure has been, Admiral.  You'll be missed around here.  I'm sorry that
you had to retire."

Al shrugged his shoulders.  "This is a job for a younger person, Gooshie.
Things just haven't been the same since..."  Al's voice died away and
he cleared his throat.  "Have you heard from Verbena?"

"Yeah," Gooshie's eyes lit up.  "She got assigned to the Mars Mission as
their chief medical officer.  Seems like her experience dealing with all
the leapees helped her out to understand the human psyche under difficult
conditions."

Al smiled and pulled out a cigar.  "God.  Mars.  What I would give to
go back to space.  Another job for younger people."  He lit up, ignoring
the no smoking rules for the umpteenth time.

"And you, Admiral?  What now?"

Al put on a wistful face.  "Me and a hot spring have a date, with about a
dozen scantily clad college coeds."  He puffed away.  "Exchange students
from Russia.  My part of detente."

Gooshie smiled.  "Sounds good, Admiral.  Like I said, we'll miss you."

Al looked around.  "I'll miss this place, too, Gooshie."  He stuck out
his hand to Gooshie, and they shook.  Al started out of the control room,
and turned.

"Gooshie.  If...when..."

Gooshie nodded.  "You'll be the first one to know, Admiral.  We'll be
seeing you."

Al nodded and walked out.

***

Al stood before the small grass mound, a thick woolen jacket pulled close
around him.  He came here every year at Halloween, hoping to see the lights,
to hear the music.  He waited patiently...silently...as he had for the
past six years.  He didn't see the lights, or hear the music as Sam
had.

At daybreak he left, not looking back.  He would return next year, and
the year after that...as long as it took.

He owed Sam that.

***

It was silent and dark in the control chamber for Project Quantum Leap.
After the first frantic months after Sam vanished, the work slowed down.  
There was no further need for continual monitoring, since Sam wasn't
leaping around anymore.  Ziggy, or what remained of her, could handle
the routine monitoring task.

Therefore, there was no one to see the monitor screen activate.  It
winked into life, amber light illuminating the darkness.  It read:

Temporal Index:  1 November, 1982 Spatial Co-ordernates:  Wells, England
Event:  Quantum Coronal Discharge signature characteristics
	* Temporal Translocation Event * Temporal Translocation Event *

Slowly, hesitantly, a light winked on in the overhead sphere.  Then another,
and another.  Swiftly, the sphere filled with multicolored twinkling
lights as the systems came on-line.  Screens activated on their own,
displays flashing on across the panels.  Several calls went out to select
phone numbers, sending a pre-recorded message.

And from a speaker, a little girl's voice called out to no one, and
everyone...

"Welcome back, father..."