GUARDIAN ANGELS

Ziggy sensed his presence even before the quantum tunneling began. Another Leap, this time into a man in a rest home in Arizona in 1984. She had become adept at anticipating Doctor Beckett's Leaps without the aid of calculations to the point where Doctor Gushman-AKA "Gooshie"-often prided her on her almost-human intuition.

Admiral Albert Calavicci entered the control chamber. Ziggy couldn't help but still refer to him by his old title, even though he was now Secretary of the Navy and as such didn't spend nearly as much time at PQL as he would have liked. He had changed somewhat over the years. Gone were the outrageously loud clothes, replaced by the more conservative suit that he wore in Washington. He still smoked cigars, however, and had one with him as he approached her spherical "Brain."

"Doctor Beckett has landed in Scottsdale, Arizona, on May 14, 1984, six p.m. local time," Ziggy informed him. "Purpose currently unknown."

"Don't worry, girl, you'll figure it out-or Sam will." He turned to Gooshie. "Any indications as to how long he'll stay this time?"

"According to previous Leaps, a little over two days," the programmer, now the head of the Project, replied. Time had changed him, as well-his hair was gray and balding, and his old mustache was gone. "The Leaping intervals seem to be growing shorter. Ziggy and I aren't sure what that means."

Al grunted. "Maybe the bartender's letting him out earlier these days."

"Sir?" Gooshie didn't understand the reference, but Ziggy did. The mysterious bartender that Doctor Beckett had encountered during his last confirmed contact with Calavicci had indicated that Doctor Beckett was in control of his own Leaps. This was something that Ziggy had given an eighty-five per cent probability based on subsequent models. It was also something that she knew gave the Admiral and others hope that Doctor Beckett might still come home someday.

"Never mind, Gooshie. So how long has it been-six, seven months since his last Leap?"

"More like eight, sir." Gooshie brought up some figures on an interactive holographic display. "At this rate, his Leaps should actually be closer to where they were during his original mission cycle between 1995 and 1999 within a year, perhaps less."

"Well, at least we'll know where you are, pal," Calavicci said to himself. He might have thought he was talking to himself, but Ziggy heard him quite clearly-and she understood. For her, a hybrid computer that could operate on a quantum level, the intervals were even longer. Directing his attention towards her, Calavicci added, "Ziggy, you know the drill. I know you're already recording in the Imaging Chamber…"

"Yes, Admiral. Continuous monitoring. Next Leap projected in forty-seven hours, thirty-eight minutes."

"Good girl. Give the probabilities on what Sam might be there to do to Gooshie. I'll be in the waiting room talking to…"

"Mister Robert Edgar Ford, born March 3rd, 1899. Admitted to the Desert Oasis Rest Home in 1979. Suffering from arthritis and various cardiac ailments, along with early stages of Alzheimer's Disease."

"Right. Better have the medical technicians standing by, then. Anything else on him?"

"Yes, Admiral. Mr. Ford served in the First World War, where he was affected by mustard gas."

"Damn." Calavicci shook his head. He'd heard horror stories about World War One from his own grandfather. "Okay, Ziggy. Just…keep an eye on Sam. I know we haven't been able to talk to him in more than a decade, but…I like to think he knows we're still here watching over him. Kind of like guardian angels, you know?"

"I am familiar with the concept, Admiral." And he was right-both symbolically and literally, they had been watching over Sam all these years, waiting for the day when they might be able to make contact with him-and bring him home.

Being his guardian angels.

THE END