Paste yo
Obsession: Deceit
by: Doug 4
PROLOGUE
Falling ever falling across the vast reaches of Time, Sam's spirit once again regained his physical body and began his next leap clamping his hands tightly over his ears.
"Oogah! Oogah! Oogah! Oogah!" sounded a loud warning claxon as Sam found himself standing on the nondescript bridge of a small freighter. Binoculars hung around his neck while several other seamen and one white-haired captain stood beside him intently eyeing the waters off their bow.
"Contact off the starboard bow, sir. Three additional torpedo boats!" reported one seaman. All binoculars including Sam's turned that direction. Their own ship appeared to be dead in the water.
"First target is hoisting pennants, sir. Message reads, "HEAVE TO OR I WILL FIRE!" announced the same seaman.
The captain turned to a seaman wearing earphones and a mike. "Have radar verify the bearing to the coastline!"
"Aye, sir. Radar room. Verify bearing to the coastline," he repeated into the microphone.
Shortly, he grabbed his headphones and announced to the captain. "Bearing 287 degrees, 15.8 miles, sir!"
"Damn it, we are in international waters! Hoist the message, "I AM IN INTERNATIONAL WATERS!" he barked to the communications' mate who repeated the order.
As the first contact got closer, Sam saw a full crew standing on it's decks at battle stations. Flying high over the superstructure of the ship was a flag with two blue stripes, one large red strip with a star in it; the flag of Democratic People's Republic of North Korea. And directly below the flag was a bridge full of Asians with binoculars trained on them. The large main gun on the bow began to rotate and point ahead of Sam's ship looking very menacing. Sam quiet as a mouse only thought, "Oh boy!"
PART ONE
Nothing seemed to make sense standing on the bridge of what appeared to be an American Navy vessel that looked like none I was familiar with. Too small for a battleship or even a cruiser and too large for a patrol boast, it was in a game of cat and mouse with a North Korean flotilla sometime during the Cold War. Even though I had often faced down both civilian and miliatry weapons that was still the biggest gun barrel I had ever had the pleasure of looking down.
"Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," a sound came from the distance and approaching from the stern. Two Russian MIGs passed close overhead and then arched around for another pass. Two more ships were off in the distance and closing fast. The immediate area of operations was getting much too hot for Sam Beckett.
"Get underway. Ahead one third," the captain called to the communications' mate.
"Ahead one third, aye," repeated the communications' mate.
The slight pitch of the seas was replaced by a sudden jerk that almost threw Sam off his feet as the ship began to move seaward.
An up and then down sound could be heard announcing the arrival of Admiral Albert Calavicci. "Sam, we don't have too much time. It suffices to say you're on the electronic surveillance ship U.S.S. Pueblo in 1968 and you're off the North Korean coast. Stand by and I'll give you your cues. Things are going to move FAST here," said Al showing up in his full light tan Navy sea uniform.
The Captain called down to the main deck for the technicians to pull in the sonar gear hanging over the side.
"Captain, the Sod Hut reports they have orders to board us and escort us to Wonsan harbor," reported the communications' mate.
"Looks like they're coming to board on the starboard side, Captain," one officer said pointing to the fast approaching torpedo boat.
"Hard aft. Increase speed to twelve knots," the captain ordered.
All on the bridge just watched the smaller boat trying to approach as the Pueblo swung away. Al stood beside Sam constantly monitoring the situation. "In about two minutes you leave the bridge whether the captain permits you or not."
"Another message, sir," said the first seaman again. "HEAVE TO OR I WILL OPEN FIRE."
"Boom!" the fifty-seven on the gunboat fired one shot across the bow. "Ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting -ting," went machinegun bullets raking the sides of the superstructure.
"Hard aft. Show 'em our stern," the Captain barked to the communications' mate who again complied relaying the orders to the engine room.
"Boom!" Another fiery blast came from the enemy's main gun hitting the top of he superstructure. Metal bits flew everywhere and then a metallic bending sound could be heard as the radar mast fell from the top of the mast.
"Out Sam, now! That hatch over there," said Al as another volley hit the bridge this time. Smoke and fire filled the air. Two officers as well as the captain were wounded. Men coughed in the smoke as the captain ordered the destruction all classified material. Another blast hit the ship, as did more machinegun fire.
"All hands go below," the squeaky loudspeaker announced.
"Stay here Sam, you're safe. Keep your eyes open," said Al as bullets whizzed through him. Sam ducked around the corner next to the cabin. Two men came up from below each with a trashcan full of paper and dumped each of the cans overboard while also dodging bullets.
One seaman ran by the civilians dumping the documents. "The Navy doesn't know what's happening! No one knows were in trouble," he cried though the others were too busy to reply. The seaman pulled out a flare gun and pointed it skyward.
"Stop him, Sam," said Al pointing frantically.
"Sailor, put down that gun!" barked Sam in his most commanding voice.
"Sir, it's hopeless. We need help!" cried the seaman getting ready to fire almost in tears.
Sam leaped forward grabbing the anxious seaman's arms. He got pushed against the cabin as the flare gun dropped from his hand, slid across the deck, under the railing and over the side. The seaman reached up to take a swing at Sam until one of the civilian paper dumpers came to Sam's rescue.
"Stand down, sailor. At ease!" Sam cried. The seaman looked up still scared and ran down the deck toward the stern. Sam and the other two men dodged another round of machinegun fire and then crawled into the cabin. As the MIG's again flew by even closer the engine of the Pueblo came to a full stop. Everything became suddenly quiet.
"Great Sam. You just saved all but one of these men. In the original history, the flare that the sailor tried to use misfired and hit the North Korean sub chaser. Its Captain got very nervous, fired two more fifty-seven's hitting the Pueblo causing it to explode. Went down with all hands. The U.S. almost went to war over that incident. Now the men are held for eleven months and then released. Treated pretty badly it seems, but at least they survived," he said reading off his hand link. "You did it better and faster than any of those Steven Segal pictures."
The engines started up again. "They're now under escort to Wonsan. Your work is done here. Take care my own private Navy Seal force of one," said Al waving.
And with that Sam leaped again leaving 1968 to find some other year that needed help from his own special talents.
Project Quantum Leap
Stallion's Gate NM
May 23, 2002
Whistling and strutting down the corridor to his office Al had an extra little leap in his step.
"My, aren't we in a good mood, Admiral," exclaimed the usually reserved Miss Verbena Beeks.
"Any day we save some of my fellow sailors is one day in a million," beamed Al. "That's dozens of less stones at Arlington National Cemetery and hundreds of loved ones who now will never know the pain. Sam is a wonder. Oh, don't forget the staff meeting in five minutes," Al reminded Verbena.
"Afraid I'll have to bow out. Personal consultation," she said chiming in. "Takes precedence over the paperwork."
"Anything I should know about?" asked the Admiral inquisitively.
"Sorry, personal. I have to go," she said walking passed the Admiral.
Taking an elevator to her office on level 9, she strolled in and found Dr. Jennifer Daniels waiting for her sitting on the couch. Nervous and jittery she played with her hands looking down at her feet.
"Am I late?" Verbena said sitting down.
"No, no! I'm early." she replied somewhat distracted.
"Fine, my dear. I usually first offer those who seek my help the couch to lie down on," she said motioning to the traditional office lounge of the psychiatrist.
"No I'm fine here, Dr. Beeks. Just fine," she said trying to smile, but just one corner of her mouth turned up.
"Fine, then let's begin. Something is troubling you. Just start with the beginning," said Verbena
"Sure. I've always seemed to be alone. In my days at Bridgeton High School, I was so deep in my studies and it got ever so much more intense in college. The pressure you find in the advanced sciences is incredible. I just couldn't give up or someone would trick me, sabotage me or just try to trip me up. It wasn't paranoia, it was the plain truth. You have to believe me doctor," she said begging to be believed.
"The medical field can be the same way. I understand. Pray continue," she said.
"Then my master's and my doctorate. The math and the science got harder and harder as did the competition. Prizes, awards, grants, it all just melted into one long competition. I never really had any friends, just the work, the job, and the science. It like everything paid off when Dr. Mendelssohn came looking for me. He was a genius. I spent years working in advanced quantum science that no one else except Dr. Beckett was working on. I had surpassed all my colleagues at school. But that didn't matter to me. I felt I had reached the height of my profession. And yet my interaction with people was still in a very narrow band. The doctor, a few people we dealt with. That was it. That was my life. And then.. and then a man came into my life. A man who seemed to know me. Know me better than myself," she said slowing down. "Let try to explain it to you."
"Ten years ago Dr. Mendelssohn and I were attending the yearly convention for the American Quantum Physics Society in New Orleans. The doctor was giving a seminar on his revolutionary reverse tachyon transfer theories. Not a topic that attracted much attention. Many highly advanced theoreticians. Old men that usually never leave their offices and sit all day hunched over their computers bored with any life beyond their own little closed theoretical world. Unfortunately that's the world I was also trapped in. The doctor began his lecture and in runs this man who looked very lost and out of place. His hands are full of notebooks and a laptop and had the cutest befuddled little boy lost expression on his face.
"He stumbled into an empty seat near me, and I heard the man next to him introduce himself. He knew who Dr. Beckett was, and called him by name. I was intrigued; those old farts don't acknowledge anyone younger than themselves. This Dr. Beckett must have been special.
"The lecture dimmed into the background noise of the air conditioners as all I could do was watch how intently Dr. Beckett listened to Dr. Mendelssohn only occasionally taking notes. He was so handsome and had the cutest demeanor and ticks. Especially the way he'd turned to the left when he didn't understand something until the answer came to him and he raised his eyebrows and his whole face lit up. And I had never seen anyone type with only three fingers before. Before I knew it I'd started to fall in love with Doctor Beckett.
"After the lecture, Dr. Mendelssohn had to return to the university while I had planned on seeing the rest of the exhibit and filling him in. Dr. Beckett had a great deal of interest in the lecture and I eagerly volunteered to help him out. As I later found out, he adapted Dr. Mendelssohn's research to fine-tune the tracking process that Ziggy uses in locating and staying in contact with the leapers. So Dr. Becket and I spent a wonderful afternoon talking over the tachyon theories. We talked for hours. Once I had answered all of his questions, he kept right on talking through the late afternoon and through dinner.
"By then I was just listening. Once you get him on his favorite subject he just doesn't stop. We went to one of those small Cajun bistros off Jackson Square. Dr. Beeks, if you every wan to fall in love, make it New Orleans in the spring. God it was wonderful," she sighed as tears ran down her cheeks.
Verbena gave her a tissue as she told her to continue.
"The next morning as he was getting ready to leave, he suggested that he was impressed with my own expertise and that I visit his new project. Of course I jumped at the chance. Dr. Mendelssohn had been very kind to me, but working with the renowned Dr. Beckett and my feelings for him I wouldn't pass it up. Meeting with the rest of the staff, Dr. Beckett pulled a few strings in security and I was working at Quantum Leap in weeks. And it has been a very happy experience since then."
"And you continued with these feelings and worked with him despite the fact that Dr. Beckett is married?" asked Verbena.
"Yes. I just wanted to be near him. I mean, my time here at the project has been wonderful. The science work is as advanced as anywhere in the world. Dr. Fuller is a fine colleague and a good friend," continued Dr. Daniels.
"And Doctor Becket's biological daughter may I add," explained Dr. Beeks.
"I know. She does have some of the same noble qualities. But, but I still can't get Sam out of my head. And here we are week after week working with him, helping him out, maintaining Quantum Leap for his benefit. And just on the other side of the wall there he is." She vaguely points toward the Imaging Chamber.
"He's not really there. He's always in the past, Jennifer," said Dr. Beeks sounding a bit alarmed.
She looked directly at Verbena, "I know. But I have worked with him and do know him first hand, Doctor."
"As does everyone who started on this project with him. He us a very compelling figure. People like him and want to follow him," said Verbena.
"Tell me about it. I'd follow him anywhere. I'll still deeply, totally and madly in love with him," she said crying in her hands.
"I could tell that you are. But so is his wife," Verbena reminded her.
"A woman that he doesn't even knows exists," snapped back Jennifer.
Verbena retorted, "And does that make a real difference? Couples may be apart, but does that make them any less married?"
"No. But it still doesn't change how Sam reacts with other women and how they react to him," logically explained Jennifer.
"Dr. Beckett is nothing, but a holograph here in the present. You will have to try and find someone here. The Doctor is kind of permanently on another assignment out-of-town as far as one can get, Jennifer," said Verbena.
"Don't you think I've looked for a replacement? Other men just haven't done anything for me. My years of being alone haven't helped. I have this idea of a knight in shining armor. Dr. Beckett is the only man that ever fit in my mold," said Jennifer shaking her head.
"You will have to get over what I can clearly identify as an obsession. You must really control yourself, Dr. Daniels," said Verbena flatly and honestly.
"And what then?" shot back Jennifer. Verbena looked down and thought for a moment. "Pining over a man that is beyond your possible reach is a ways beyond your capability. You should really try and control yourself. He is not available and there's no way to reach him. He married and that is that. Despite the fact his husband is my friend, I still do not condone interfering in another person's marriage."
Dr. Daniels chewed her lip as she considered their discussion. Her face lit up briefly. "Yes, you're right. I need to get over it. I need to change my perspective."
"And I would be glad to talk to you about it. Do you want to get together next Thursday, after your shift is over?" asked Verbena consulting the appointment calendar on her computer.
"Sure right. No problem. That'll be at six. Thanks for your advice," she said backing off "Thanks, Dr. Beeks. YOU HAVE BEEN A REALLY BIG HELP!"
PART TW0
San Monetago, California
March 23, 1984
Darkness all around. Sam could see nothing as his self-imposed quantum haze began to dissipate. Nothing changed. He still couldn't touch anything or feel anything. All he could sense was coolness and the click-click-click of his feet on a hard possibly tile floor. "Hello? Hello?" asked Sam. Still not a sound could be heard as he waved his arms frantically in front of him. Wham! His hand hit a hard rough wall that scraped his knuckles. Despite the pain and discomfort Sam fell flat against the wall as the only object he had yet come to that reeked of any familiarity. Sam began to have the first signs of panic as he whispered his oft-heard phrase, "Oh boy!"
The lights snapped on and thirty people on the far side of the room yelled out "Happy Birthday, Don!" All dressed festively in 1980's clothing. One-woman, a pretty endowed woman about thirty years old wearing a blue pants suit, came over and kissed him gently. "Happy Birthday, darling. We didn't mean to give you such fright! We want you to make it to your 35th birthday!" she teased him as the crowd chuckled at Sam.
Sam began to breathe slower and looked over the crowd who had dozens of eyes staring directly at him.
"Say something, Don!" one of them called out as another chuckle passed through the crowd.
"Um, thanks. You kind of caught me off guard there." he smiled. "Thanks for coming. I ah.. have take my heart from my throat and put it back down here." He patted his chest. "You all kind of leaped up on me," he said half-chuckling and half-frightened.
"Speech, speech," called out one of the younger female guests.
Sam shook his head. "No, not yet. I'm definitely not yet ready for that. I need to do a little research." Especially since I don't know who I am or where this place is, Sam thought to himself.
"Please mingle, have a good time. I'll throw around some pointed barbs later. As for now, turn up the music. I need something to wet my whistle," said Sam looking as embarrassed as he was. Everyone applauded, then the music of Donna Summers could be heard from the record player and several of the couples stepped onto the floor of the paneled basement and began to dance.
The redhead came over to Sam and handed him a drink. "Here you are, darling. You should have seen your face. Like you didn't even know who we were. I'll tell you Don, I've never seen you this surprised before. I usually can't pull anything over on you, darling," she said picking up her own drink and sipping it.
Sam sniffed the concoction and swooned just a bit at the level of the alcohol in it. Since he was still in a quantum woozy state, he didn't need the extra boost to dull his senses. "My this sure looks good, but do you just have a Coke? I could sure die for one right now," he said trying to look thirsty.
"Oh, sweetheart. No problem, Poopsy. Anything for the birthday boy. Hey, Gary. Pour a straight Coke for my darling hubby here." The bartender-of-the-moment complied and handed the drink to his wife. "Thanks, Gary. Here you go," she said handing it to Sam.
Sam took one taste and gulped. An extra jigger of rum had been added. This time he smiled and then put it down. He wasn't really interested in partying with all these strangers without his own sidekick.
"You want to dance, sweetie?" she asked holding him close as the Bee Gees started in on the soundtrack from Saturday Night Fever. "Care to boogie me to the floor, tiger?'
"Um, I'm enjoying just sitting here, um. Sweetheart," smiled Sam trying to look tired, but instead he just looked cute.
"All right, darling. You just don't seem in the mood for anything tonight. You just aren't yourself. So what happened this evening at the Redwoods?" said asked sitting down next to him and draping her arm around him.
"Redwoods?" asked Sam looking quite lost.
"That's a local bowling alley and bar, Sam. From your getup I'd say you just came back from the local league, my dear trophy hound," explain Al who had been watching the ladies from the far corner.
"Oh, well I had a rough night. I stained.. um something," he stammered lifting up his arm weakly.
"Oh my poor big strong man. Do you want massage?" she asked rubbing his back.
"No, no. It was my arm," said Sam shaking out his arm a bit and rubbing it. "I think I better go and put something on it. I'll be right back. RIGHT BACK!" said Sam backing off and heading for the stairs.
"I'll miss you, Donny," she said blowing him a kiss while several people looked on in amusement as he backed into a black couple sporting two very high Afros. Stumbling up the stairs where it was still dark, he got the kitchen light on and then found the bathroom.
"Here we are again on our weekly inspection of the plumbing of American suburbia. How you doing Sam?" asked Al looking over the strange knick-knacks on the counter.
"Except for the fright of my life, I've been better. You don't know what it's like waking up and not knowing where you are. Everything is just plan black!" said Sam running his hand in front of his face.
Al waved his cigar at Sam. "Oh, there were a few times when I woke up with a hangover in Norfolk or San Diego not knowing where I was or even who I was. I can't honestly say I can account for every hour of my life. And it depends who I was with when I woke up. There was this one nurse in Guantanamo Bay that REALLY had the hots for me. The two of us woke up in the base commander's bedroom. We had gone completely blotto and couldn't even remember whom we were partying with the night before. It was only the afterglow that even gave us a hint that..."
"Al! Please. Come back to this here and now. I'm at a loss as to my host and mission is in this leap here. Where am I?" asked Sam to Al.
Al looked up, thought for a minute and then let out a healthy sigh. "Those were the days. On to you and your fiery redhead. She's got it bad for you Sam. Best of luck later. And that person is Donald Martin Simmons and that lovely piece of suburban feminine personage is his wife, Darlene Shannon Milano Simmons. This place is his house in San Montego, California and the date is the 23rd of March in nineteen hundred and eighty-four. You are a guidance counselor at Wilson High School."
"Sounds fairly benign. What's the mission?" asked Sam as he picked up some Ben Gay to rub in his supposed arm injury.
"Well, its more personal than some, Sam. It seems we've lost of our own. Something you did in your last leap made one Christina Arianna Martinez changed her vocation. This particular timeline is missing one talented Pulse Technician, according to Ziggy." Al hesitated. "That name does seem vaguely familiar, somehow."
"What happened? Is she dead?" asked Sam looking a bit guilty.
Al shook his head, "No, she is alive and well. Just in a different lifeline. According to Ziggy she's in Portland, Oregon working as a very successful fashion photographer. Works with several of the great fashion magazines."
"But how is that possible? What happened to change things? What did I do?" asked Sam now feeling very guilty as he looked down acting more like a little kid. "Sam, Ziggy really doesn't know. We can always check on the major changes you make in a person's future. The things you've made right are in the history books. But every time you travel in time your very presence changes little things. And as other lives change it just snowballs. Small changes over time can lead to big changes. Not even Ziggy can figure out ALL the changes in the past you have caused since your first leap. In Tina's case you changed her life. She made a decision long ago that redirected the course of her life," said Al shaking his head. All these multiple possibilities mumbo-jumbo was giving Al the biggest headache.
"H-h-h-how?" stammered Sam.
"Let me explained something to you. To chart the changes on the vast web of time, you set up a section Y. Using it we setup well-known markers using our lives and what we know about history. We needed to define little subtle actions that meant big changes later. Small things that if they happened differently, then we can see the changes. Things like a chance meeting between a future husband and wife. A slight delay in either of them and the marriage and possibly the subsequent children never happen. You had the research department come up with hundreds of events like that through history. Like that ex-soldier that helped prevent Gerald Ford's assassination. You had all the major people here at project headquarters do the same time.
"You had us chart out our lives and define specific points that easily hinged on decisions that really affect our lives. Using people well versed in the concepts we were better qualified to come up with these time related markers. You just couldn't ask people off the street the same questions. In Christina's case, she was a young high school girl deciding on her life's work. That occurred this week at her school, and since you leaped into her guidance counselor, I'd say the big guy upstairs wants you to help her out. Push her back into your little fold, Doctor Beckett," explain Al finishing up with figuratively pushing the girl with his cigar.
"And Ziggy?" asked Sam. "What does she predict?"
"Same thing. She gives you an 87 percent probability of that scenario. Pretty descent odds if you ask me. And then the project gets back its head Pulse Technician. And the chronic power phasing problem we live with will never exist. She supposedly fixes that."
"Hey, Donny. Fall in, fellow?" asked Darlene pounding on the door. "Let's of people here that want to wish you a happy birthday."
"Come on Sam. Can't do anything right here now. Let's go boogie!" cried Al as he walked through the door bouncing along to the background music. Sam just looked up to the ceiling and joined his overactive friend.
San Monetago, California
March 24, 1984
Wilson High School was typical of those built before the Second World War with tall columns, a brick front and hand-stained wooden doors and windows. It was a real treat for the connoisseur of public school architecture. My office was stuck in a back office in a rear cubbyhole with two other guidance counselors. One was a thirty-year veterans waiting for retirement while the other was a woman that must have just started. She was the one, who greeted me this morning.
"Good Morning, Mr. Simmons," she said sparkling with youthful enthusiasm. "Lovely day today!"
"Morning," Sam replied to her and then to their other consort who looked up and seemed to snort just a bit.
"You know, Sam. There's a new technician down in isometrics that looks a lot like her except for the eye color. She had everyone in the department drooling over their respective keyboards," said Al almost doing the same himself.
"Where do I find Christina to talk to her?" asked Sam to Al.
"Oh, Mr. Simmons. You told me that just last week. Te-hee. Look in your student reference file there. All their classes and personal info are in there," she said chuckling that she was helping out a more experienced counselor.
"In this file," asked Sam pointing to the biggest of the drawers in his wooden desk.
"Uh huh. It's alphabetized by last name," she said giggling again. The other counselor just looked up in disgust at the sight of Sam's inability to do even easy tasks. Sam was never shy about asking for help as many men are.
Sam flipped through the files and said out loud, "Last name?"
"Oh sorry Sam. Martinez, Christina Arianna Martinez. Music to my ears," said Al taking a long deep thoughtful poof. "If only I was an only. She has the best set of maracas at the base. Cha-cha-cha!"
"OK," said Sam "Christina Martinez. Says here she goes by Tina. First period, Gym. Second, study hall. Third, physics. Fourth, science studies. Fifth, advanced calculus. Sixth, German. Seventh, English, and finally classic sculpting. All honors classes."
"Yes, Mr. Simmons?" asked the blonde woman.
"Nothing. I'm going for some coffee," said Sam bobbing his head up and down.
The girl waved while the oldster shook his head at the early coffee break.
Walking into the Teacher's Lounge Sam laid out the file and talked very softly to Al.
"How did she ever deviate from her science studies? She is one brilliant basic science and applications student here. Look at this transcript. She should be able to get into any great college in the country," said Sam impressed with her record. "The way Tina wrote about it, she was in her junior year thinking about colleges. Her physics teacher, a Dr. Fletcher took her in hand as a lab technician. She found herself and never wanted to leave the test tube set again. Her other favorite teacher was her art appreciation instructor that took a great deal of interest in the photographs she had on display at the sophomore art fair. She is a whiz with the camera, though she seldom uses it much here nowadays. Working with quantum particles and packets there's not much to take pictures of. But she does have a ball at parties and company picnics," said Al enthusiastically.
"So someone redirected her sails, somehow. Where are these two people? I need to talk to them," asked Sam.
Al pulled up his magic information machine and looked it up. "The art teacher is on sabbatical this year. He had caught her interest last year. Dr. Fletcher is.. That's odd. He is not even here at Wilson High School. His job is a research physicist at the Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena. He never went into teaching or at least is not in it yet," said Al with a peculiar twisted look on his face.
"So that's the random factor! Any idea what caused it?" asked Sam.
"Ziggy. Any comments?'" asked Al into his hand link.
"Only about a hundred quadrillion possibilities, Admiral. Dr. Beckett had been very busy in time the last eight years. I could have a response in about three years, provided the quantum leap project is put on hold until then," she said.
"That's OK, Ziggy. We'll do without that. Sam, no one will ever really know," Al advised Sam.
"It would take a long time to get Dr. Fletcher to change his life back to the right course. It doesn't look like his life is all that bad or the big guy would have dropped me in his path to change it," commented Sam.
Looking over his data Al said, "Sam, he's doing just fine. You'll just have to give Tina the same advice. Become her mentor. Be her friend. Turn her rudder and set her sails for the old PQL."
"That's a tall order Al. I'll check in with her during study hall," said Sam as he began to gather up Tina's files.
"Sam you didn't even know if she's here. I'll check out her first class myself. St. John center me on..." he called into his hand link.
"The girl's gym class? Al you wouldn't," Sam said staring down Al's slightly wicked look.
"I guess I shouldn't. Ziggy report on the whereabouts of Tina Martinez," he asked looking disappointed.
"Miss Martinez is participating in a volley ball game in the girl's gym," replied Ziggy.
"Volleyball," Al said quietly to himself. "Oh, well."
"Fine, I'll catch her next period. Thanks Al," said Sam backing up and leaving as Al just stared into the distance.
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