From: "Carol Belyea" Subject: Chances - Chapter 9 Date: Tue, 25 Aug 1998 00:42:36 PDT Chapter Nine Stallion's Gate, PQL November 23, 2000 11:30 PM Phase three immediately began a week after the committee's visit. Every technician in the complex had something to do. New chips and programs were being added to the system every hour. Things were being optimized and everyone was quite happy with their progress. And in the midst of it all, there was Al. Al ignored his situation, though it was hard for him to do. He vented his anger by barking out orders to his staff. All of them seemed to be much more intimidated than they used to be. After all, Al was very different now. Since the accident, the shadows on his face seemed to have darkened, the wrinkles on his hands seemed more defined and no longer held the familiar father-like gentleness. All the features that used to gladden people as he passed disappeared and replaced everyone's hope into loss. But Al tried not to think about much at all. Sam on the other hand could think of nothing else but Al. He would mask his despair with a phony smile whenever he saw the Admiral speed down the halls in his wheelchair. What Sam didn't know is that it discouraged Al rather than helped him. Al could see right through Sam and that talent was something nobody could figure out. Not even Sam. It was late at night now and most had left for home to sleep, even though there was still much to be done. But fatigue was already catching up to Al and since he had been sitting in a wheelchair all day, his back was starting to bother him as well. So, he decided to close up for the night. Sam was walking down the office corridor, carrying a box full of circuitry and spare computer parts, when he saw Al turning off the lights to his office and closing the door. "Giving up already?" Sam asked as he approached the Admiral. "Under regular circumstances, you'd usually stay up all night working on this stuff." He indicated to the box he carried. Tired and in pain, Al rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Well, this isn't a normal situation, now, is it, Beckett? I'm tired, I hurt, and if you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed." Feelings crunched by Al's harsh tone, Sam pried, "What's your problem?" He rolled passed Sam. "Do you know what it feels like to be snubbed?" Sam followed the older man. "Snubbed?" he asked, clearly confused. "What do you mean 'snubbed'" "Snubbed. As in 'pushed to the side'? 'Used and forgotten'? Ring a bell?" "I don't understand. What's making you feel 'snubbed'?" Turning the corner with Sam following, Al continued, "In case you forgot already, I saved your ass more than once since you got home. Excluding the bullet I got in the back." "Thank you?" Sam shrugged questioningly. Al huffed, gaining as much momentum as possible in his bulky hospital issued wheelchair. Sam didn't even try to catch up to him. He was just about ready to give up the friendship in itself. By the way they've been acting towards each other, it just didn't seem worth holding onto anymore. *************************** 2:00 am It was really late now. Sam was still working in his office on chips, mostly programming, taking occasional five minute breaks for the bland coffee served in the compound. It tasted disgusting, but it kept you going on those long nights. Sam could hardly look at another piece of circuitry without wanting to scream. Sure, he admitted he was a workaholic but enough was enough. The fact that he had a lot on his mind didn't help. He hasn't spent enough time with his family since he came home and especially since the shooting with the Banes lunatic. He smiled in spite of himself at the sudden thought of his son. How he's grown in the few months that has passed. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and sat back comfortably in his chair, pushing away his work. He smiled again. Donna, he thought, she's still so beautiful. He nodded to himself. Life was good to him, he thought, completely forgetting about the situation. Forgetting about Al. Still smiling, he stood, grabbed his empty coffee mug and headed for another round of Java just down the hall. Nonchalantly strolling down the corridor, he stopped dead in his tracks and frowned profusely. Something was wrong. He didn't know how, but he felt it with a sixth sense. He started to jog down the hall, setting the mug somewhere on the floor. Then he began to sprint towards the end of the corridor, where the elevator was. He turned the corner and saw what proved his hunch to be correct. Al's wheelchair, but no Al. Al couldn't have just walked away from it if he's paralyzed. No, he was obviously kidnapped and Sam had an idea who kidnapped him. "Ziggy!" He called in the midst of his desperation. "Damn it, Ziggy!" Ziggy's sultry computerized voice sounded more metallic and shaky then usually. "Yeeeeesss, Docccctttterrrr Beeeecccckkkeeeettt?" "Why the hell didn't you tell me about this?! Where's Al?" "Tttttthhhhhheeeee aaaaadddddmmmiiiirrrraaaalll," her voice suddenly winding down, "is in the E-wing with ...." All throughout the complex you could hear the hum of power slowly being drained and blacking out the entire complex. "Damn! Damn the virus! Damn that idiot Banes! Ziggy!" He wandered aimlessly through the halls in the pitch darkness. He had to get to Al. And his wife and son. The stress of it all was almost unbearable. A few minutes passed when the backup generator kicked in. Red emergency lights lit up the halls. He could hear what sounded like a stampede coming from the staircases. He ran for the stairway door and opened it. Dozens and dozens of scientists and technicians were running up the stairs to ground level. The elevators didn't work with the generator running on it's own, and neither did the air vents. The generator would only last long enough for everyone to evacuate if normal power could not be regained. But Sam had to find Al. E-wing was on the 10th level of the complex so Sam attempted to weave through the immense crowd of people going in the opposite direction of traffic. Pushing and shoving, he almost didn't realize pushing Chris Bryce right down the stairs. "Sam, what the hell are you thinking?!" Chris said, regaining his balance. The last of the technicians were making their way up the stairs as Chris continued, "Are you trying to kill me or what?" "No, no, I just have to get to Al. He's on the tenth level and Yen probably took him hostage. ..." "Whoa, slow down! Are you saying the Hiroshi character you've been telling us about kidnapped Al?" "Yes!" Sam replied quickly, "but I don't have time to explain. Just tell my wife that I'll be up there as soon as possible!" Leaving Chris with a blank look on his face, he darted down the stairs as fast as he could. He burst through the door of level ten. The halls were bathed in a dark red light and the alarms were deafening. All the corridors looked the same. He looked to the left. Then to the right. E-wing was down to the right so he began to sprint that way. As he ran, the walls changed from completed to covered with plastic tarps. He abruptly came to a halt when he saw . . . Al's wheelchair again? A red jacket that Al had been wearing earlier was thrown carelessly on the seat of the chair that was parked next to an opened access corridor the size of an air shaft. He didn't give himself time to think. The confused physicist called out, "Al? Al, where are you?" "Sam?" Al's voice seemed to be coming from the corridor in the construction area. Sam, even more confused, followed the voice. Grabbing a flashlight that he always kept in his belt, he got down onto his hands and knees and shined the flashlight to see inside access corridor. Sam saw the admiral face down in the crawl space. "Al, what the hell are you doing in there? Didn't you hear the alarms going off?" Al, turning himself onto his side, quickly snapped back at him, "Of course I did, Beckett. I'm paralyzed, not deaf." With a pudge grin Sam asked, "Then why are you still in there? Are you stuck?" "No," Al said sarcastically, "I'm trying to tunnel my way to freedom. What does it look like to you?" Sam flashed the light towards the obvious problem and grimanced at the sight of Al's legs resembling something close to a pretzel. Al had obviously been trying to free himself forcefully without knowing what caused his problem. "Al. Do me a favor and don't move." "Why? What's the problem?" Al asked suspiciously. "Trust me. You don't want to know." "Okay, I'll take your word for it. Now, why did the power go out?" Ignoring the older man's question, Sam dislodged Al's foot and muttered, "Come on, let's get you out of here." "Whatever it is I don't need your help." Right as Al spoke the last word, he felt a hard tug and suddenly found himself outside the crawl space and on the floor in the main hallway. He positioned himself upright. Sam asked, "Are you okay?" "I will be as soon as . . ." his voice trailed and he turned sheet white as looked across the way. Sam turned to see what Al was looking at. A small console embedded in the wall was displaying on its screen the chilling letters R.I.P. Below that was a counter at five minutes and counting down. "Sam, I have a feeling something bad's gonna happen once that counter reaches zero." "Let me get your chair. . ." "Screw the chair! Get our asses the hell out of here!!!" Sam quickly lifted Al over his shoulders and started running up the stairs. Al could do nothing but shut his eyes and dread the entire situation. This is what he hated most about his limitations. The alarms were ear numbing and the dim red lights were enough to make you dizzy. He briefly opened his eyes and saw "Sublevel 2" painted in black bold letters on the wall. Suddenly there came a rumble from deep down below them. Sam ran as fast as he could with Al on his shoulders. He came to the ground level, running down the last hallway. He saw the exit right in front of him as the Earth shook with more intesity. He ran outside, as far as he could possibly go until the entire complex of PQL, his dream was comepletely englufed by the explosion. --------------------------------------