Temporal Steele — Part 3
by
Chapter 7
"There are no records of such a drug anywhere," he muttered.
"What was that, Doc?"
The Doctor looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway.
"Mr. Kim, I didn't hear you come in. I was just saying that I can't find any reference to a drug called CS-12 or one causing these particular symptoms." He rose in frustration and began pacing. "I don't know what else to do."
"We figured you were stuck. We're waiting for Seven to transfer more personality data from her observations, so I thought I'd come see what the delay was. What have you got so far?"
The Doctor turned the screen on his desk so they could both see it. As he spoke, he poked at it.
"Civilian and military medical and biological warfare records for North America from about 1800 to the present. I realize records from the era in question are fragmentary, but there should be some reference."
Harry nodded. "I agree. You might be looking in the wrong place."
"Oh?"
"According to the database, the Remington Steele Agency often worked with Interpol and for people with business on other continents. Most of the work, from what Tom and I can tell, was done in the United States, but not all of it. Start with Ireland."
"What's special about Ireland?" asked the Doctor as he sat down again, ready to throw himself back into his research.
"Steele's Irish," Harry replied simply. He headed for the door. "Let us know when you have something."
"Of course, Mr. Kim." The Doctor was already in another world.
Harry smiled and headed for the Holographic Research Lab. As he strode down the corridors, he nodded hellos to passing crew members. When he reached the door to the lab, he barely stopped himself before running headlong into it.
Confused, he stated, "Computer, open the door."
When the door did not open, he touched his com badge.
"Kim to Paris." Harry waited a moment, then repeated, "Kim to Paris."
He was raising a fist to pound on the door when the Doctor, smiling broadly, came jogging up.
"Mr. Kim, you're a genius. The minute you said Interpol,' I remembered a cross-reference"
Harry interrupted, "That's great, Doc, but can it wait? The door won't open and Tom isn't answering the com."
"Computer, locate Mr. Paris."
The Doctor got no response.
"Well, Doc, I guess voice commands are still offline. Help me open this door."
The two struggled to force the door open. When it finally yielded, they were greeted with a pitch black room.
"Tom, are you in here?" Harry called.
"Yeah, I'm in here," came the nonplussed reply.
"Where are you? The lights aren't working."
Tom's voice came back, "Just go down to Holodeck Two and ask B'Elanna to let me out."
"Let you out?" the Doctor asked. "What do you mean?"
"She's got me behind a forcefield. Don't ask."
Harry chuckled and said, "I'll go talk to her. Be right back."
When Harry had gone, Tom asked, "Hey, Doc, can't you make yourself glow or something? It's dark in here."
"I'm a doctor, not a flashlight, Mr. Paris."
A moment passed, then the lights suddenly came on, the door hissed shut, and the forcefield surrounding Tom vanished.
"Well, that's a relief," Tom sighed as he stepped out of his corner and over to the lab's controls. "Now maybe we can get some work done." He began to press buttons, bringing up full-size holograms of Remington Steele and Laura Holt.
Harry re-entered the room just as they appeared.
"You have got to make peace with that woman!" he said to Tom. "Well, hello," he said to Laura's static form.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Tom scolded. "Hologram, remember?"
"Just admiring the view," Harry responded as he took his place near Tom and the Doctor.
The Doctor took the opportunity to recount his research.
"As I was saying, Mr. Kim, the minute you said Interpol,' I remembered a cross-reference regarding US Navy interest in a French Foreign Legion experiment on"
"Interesting combination," Tom interjected.
"experiment on," the Doctor repeated, raising his voice and eyeing Tom, "truth agents. The French refused to share the drug citing unpredictability issues.' The Navy acquired the drug through an Icelandic agent"
"
The Doctor ignored him and continued, "and hid the records of all testing with the files for a decommissioned battleship."
"So, what are we dealing with here?" Harry asked.
The Doctor hesitated.
"It depends."
"On what?" asked Tom.
"Metabolism, dosage, body weight, state of mind upon injection, whether the injection was intramuscular or intravenous"
"Sounds relatively routine."
"Yes, but subtle changes in any one of those can change the side-effects from sleeplessness to nausea to high-grade fever, paralysis, coma, or brain damage."
"You did say unpredictability issues,'" said Harry.
Tom saw the dilemma. "So how do we program that?"
"I don't think we need to," Harry said.
"But Harry, the situation they're in is directly related to the drug and its effects."
"No, it's not." Harry sounded like he was presenting his ideas to the captain. "In every incarnation we've observed, the side effects have not been all that bad: disorientation, nausea, slurred speech. Unfortunately, that limits our information on Steele, since he's been the one on the table the most often, but I think those are the only symptoms we need to worry about."
Tom said, "I guess you're right. But we also don't know who gave it to him or why."
Harry continued, "They've never discussed any details of this case that got them into this or any other people in their lives except for Mildred, who must be their secretary. It's all personal. The problem is that we don't know what they said or did when they left the only room we can monitor. Or what they're thinking."
"
Tom recited the short list. "The case that got them into this is closed. They argue a lot. In one timeline, it became clear that they are lovers."
"Incorrect."
Seven's voice over the com startled the three men.
She continued, "I have been monitoring your conversation. Until Mr. Paris' last statement, I had no new information to add."
Tom defended his observation.
"But Seven, they were having a very intimate conversation and were pretty physical about it."
"I have monitored the situation since you went to the holodeck. Mr. Vorek caused another jump in the timeline. This time it is the woman who is drugged. The man has made it clear that she will remember nothing this time, and he has taken advantage of this situation."
"In what way?"
"He has spoken at length regarding their current relationship. They are not lovers, nor have they admitted they love each other."
"That certainly makes their relationship more interesting. Any idea how long they've been working together?"
"Approximately four years."
"Any idea how long they've been personally involved?"
"They have been personally involved since shortly after they met."
Harry muttered, "At least I'm not the only one who gets into strange situations with women."
"I am updating the holomatrix to reflect this data. I will continue monitoring." Seven of Nine signed off.
"Well Doc, I think you can head back to Sick Bay," Tom said. "It doesn't take three people to program nothing."
"Very well, Mr. Paris. If I come up with anything more specific about CS-12, I'll let you know."
Harry turned to Tom.
"So, what simulations should we run?"
"Based on what, Harry? All we know is what they look like, that it's her agency, that they've danced around each other for four years, and that they win top honors for ear splitting fights. What does that tell us?"
"That they're in love."
"I meant what does that tell us about their original timeline," Tom returned as he began programming the limited data.
* * *
The receptionist had just answered the phone.
"Counterfeit paintings getting you down?
Maybe your husband's been fooling around.
Got some jewels you don't want swiped?
Some old actress threatened you with a knife?
Tell us your troubles and don't start to pout,
Steele and Holt will figure it out."
"
The young woman behind the desk cupped her hand over the receiver before answering.
"
"Whose name is that?" he asked, his volume rising.
"Yours, sir," Mildred answered sheepishly.
"So I'll go wherever I want."
"Yes, Mr. Steele."
Instead of turning right to go to his own office, he strode past the desks of their three employees to the windowless oak door to his left.
He did not bother to knock.
"Any new cases, Miss Holt?" he asked, slamming the door behind him.
Laura looked disheveled and had dark circles under her eyes.
"You know there aren't. And you could have knocked."
"Why? You would have just locked me out."
He pushed a pile of papers aside and sat on the desk right in front of her.
She looked disgusted. "You shouldn't be surprised. You always give me such good reasons."
"What's the excuse today? Last night was going so well."
"You know, Mr. Steele, you can't just show up on my doorstep and expect me to fall into bed with you."
"You always give me such good reasons," he countered.
"What does that mean?"
He ignored her question.
"You've been here all night, haven't you, Laura? Pressing case more interesting than an evening with me?" His volume rose as he hopped off the desk and began to wave his arms. "No, that couldn't be. We don't have any cases at the moment."
Her voice rose to match.
"
"
She jumped up out of her chair and chased him to the door.
"Just get out!"
He headed out in front of the employees, opened his office door, and fired back, "Wait five minutes; you'll be back."
"You're delusional! I never want to speak to you again!"
"If that's the way you want to play it, fine!"
"Fine!" She slammed her office door.
He screwed up his face in frustration and slammed his door.
* * *
"
"Unknown. The radiation appears to be attracted to the ship."
"Why is it dividing?"
"Again, unknown."
"Chakotay, is it causing any damage?"
"None at all."
The captain settled back in her chair, still uneasy.
* * *
"
"No, it doesn't, but I can't put my finger on what's wrong."
"Let's stop the simulation."
Harry popped a panel off the front of the oblivious secretary's desk and froze the characters.
Tom sighed. "Now what?"
"Let's tone it down a little. Something about the argument didn't seem like them."
"We should change the setting, too. It's strictly guesswork on these employees, the office, and the cases. All we know is personal, so let's stick to that."
"Ok. Suggestions?"
"How about," Tom started, already reprogramming, "a quiet evening at home?"
* * *
"
"What's that, Commander?" Captain Janeway asked.
"The radiation is leaving the hull and dissipating back into the eddies."
"Keep an eye on it."
Chapter 8
Laura Holt was at the sink, finishing the evening's dishes. The rest of the house was dark, as were the other houses on the suburban tree-lined street. Children's bikes were lying in the driveway, forgotten until morning. A silver Corvette was parked across the street, its occupant's head turned toward the house.
After drying the last plate, she placed it in the cupboard, then turned to the island where a half-drunk glass of cheap Chardonnay sat. She took a sip, then replaced the glass and returned to the sink to let the water out. As she did, a face at the kitchen window startled her out of her routine.
"Hi."
Laura closed her eyes briefly to calm herself.
"What are you doing here? Do you know Mother and the boys are asleep upstairs?"
"Where else would they be?" Remington Steele flashed a smile. "Can I come in?"
"No, you may not come in," Laura stage whispered, drying her hands. Quietly, she opened the kitchen door and joined him on the patio.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated.
"No reason. Can't a guy drop by without having some ulterior motive?"
"I suppose, but dropping by' usually means the front door and a decent hour."
"Ok, I'll come back later." He made as if to leave.
She put a hand on his sleeve, stopping him.
"Mother would see you."
"You know, someday you're going to have to formally introduce me."
"I wouldn't know where to begin explaining you to my mother." Shyly, she smiled and pecked him on the cheek.
He put his arms around her.
"You know, Laura Holt, you should think about that."
"What?" she asked, gently stroking his cheek.
"Explaining me to your mother." He kissed her lightly on the lips.
* * *
"
"
"Nothing," Harry answered, "I guess. Let's give it a minute."
* * *
"
He stepped back, keeping his hands on her waist.
"But Laura, I don't understand. We work together. You can't keep saying I'm out of town or that I function best in an advisory capacity' whenever your mother wonders why you work cases alone."
"When was the last time I worked a case alone?"
"That's what you tell your mother."
"How do you know that?" She pushed his hands from her hips.
"Phillip likes my car, remember? We talk. I still don't know why you're hiding our relationship from your mother when she knows better and I spend my Saturdays with the boys talking about shooting hoops." Almost to himself, he added, "I wish I knew exactly what a hoop is."
"
"Understand what?"
"Us."
"Why?" He folded his arms across his chest, but kept his voice even.
Laura opened her mouth, but could not come up with an answer. Instead, she patted his hand.
"Laura, I don't understand. All I ever hear is that you want our relationship to go forward. Don't you think that would involve telling your mother?" His voice lowered almost to a whisper. He knew how she reacted when he did that. He watched her soften.
"I worry about your motives," she finally said.
He took her in his arms again.
"Laura, you don't have anything to worry about."
"How do I know that?"
"You have to trust me."
"Trust you?" She looked up into his eyes. "I need more time."
* * *
"
"It wasn't really much of an argument compared to what we've seen so far, was it?" Harry said sheepishly. He thought for a moment, then gave Tom a friendly shove. "Hey, you programmed it."
Tom laughed.
"Yeah, I guess I toned it down too much. What next?"
Chapter 9
"Explanation?" the captain asked, flummoxed.
Her answer was shrugs, shaking heads, and an arched eyebrow.
She swatted her com badge.
"Senior officers to the Briefing Room." Quietly, to Chakotay, "I'd love to know what's going on here."
* * *
"
"Thank you, Ensign." Captain Janeway turned to B'Elanna. "Lieutenant Torres, have you had any luck?"
"Yes, Captain." She rose and began to explain. "Each time we try to establish a warp field, it collapses. As far as that goes, there's nothing we can do. We can, however, break free of the gravitational eddies, then use impulse engines to take us far enough out to get a stable field."
"How do we do that?" Chakotay asked.
"I can modify a photon torpedo to emit a graviton pulse. The inverse frequency of the eddies will have to be matched precisely. Inertial dampers will have to be reinforced, but I think we can do it."
"Get to it," the captain ordered. "While you modify the torpedo, I want Tom and Harry back in the holodeck. I want to be absolutely sure about the timeline in which we're leaving our new friends."
* * *
"
"Sounds good."
Harry and Tom stopped next to the holodeck's door. Harry began tapping the panel on its left.
"What should it be this time?" he asked. "New client? Old flame? Dry spell? Flooded with cases?"
"We've tried all those. We have to come up with something else. How about"
Tom could not finish his sentence. As Harry programmed, blue and yellow radiation bursts flooded the ship. The panel exploded in a shower of sparks, knocking him across the corridor.
"Paris to Sick Bay. Medical emergency!"
The radiation continued to surge throughout the interior of the holodeck. The matrix pulsed and sizzled as the blue light traversed it. Each character sputtered, flashed, and dematerialized in turn. When the torrent reached Steele and Laura's inert duplicates, they did not fade. The radiation pooled and bristled.
"Laura, why do I suddenly know how to play the clarinet?"
* * *
"
"
"Thank you, Doctor." She turned to Chakotay. "That explains the lack of injury reports from the rest of the ship."
Chakotay nodded. "I think we should get out of here before something like this happens again."
"Agreed." She delicately addressed Tom. "Were you able to run any more simulations before this happened?"
"No, Captain. We were just about to when the panel exploded."
Chakotay said, "Harry is in good hands. Why don't we head down to the holodeck and run a few more simulations while B'Elanna finishes her modifications?"
Tom drew in a breath. The captain put her hand on his shoulder.
"Let's get out of here, Tom."
"Aye, Captain."
Tom and Chakotay walked to the holodeck.
"Let's get this thing going," Tom said with a new resolve.
Chakotay tapped the lifeless panel.
"We're going to have to do it from inside."
"That won't be easy," Tom said, trying the door. "The door isn't working."
"We'll have to force it open."
Inside the holodeck, Laura crouched under the arch, her ear pressed to the door.
"They're back. Suggestions?"
Remington Steele looked up from the panel in the receptionist's desk.
"I'm still trying to sort this out. You know how I am with computers. I wonder if there's a spanner somewhere in here," he indicated the strange surroundings that were supposed to be their offices, "you can use to jam it."
"This thing doesn't have a doorknob or hinges. It slides, like an elevator door."
Steele's eyes searched for an option. He found none.
Laura called, "How about a giant staple?"
"Thinking like a starship officer, eh, Laura?" He glanced around again. "Try the chair."
Laura trotted over to the piece of modern furniture he indicated. She broke off the flimsy one-piece seat and back and quickly inspected the remaining angular metal frame.
"Help me with this."
Steele abandoned the panel and grabbed the chair. He and Laura put their weight behind it and pierced the inner door panel.
"Pretty poor construction given the century, I'd say," Steele said.
"I just hope nothing pokes through the other side."
"We'll know in a minute."
They watched, hoping they did not see their makeshift lock start to move. When it did not, Laura put her ear back against the door.
"What do you hear?"
She held up her hand.
"Just a discussion. Sounds like Tom and Chakotay."
"I've locked out external changes, but it won't take them long to think of sending the Doctor in here. We've got to find a place to hide and a way to keep them from shutting down the holodeck."
"We could just talk to the captain."
"We haven't figured out what our non-corporeal friends outside the ship have in mind yet."
Laura walked over and crouched next to him. "Can you do anything about this office? I just can't think here."
"That I can do." He started to tap the panel. "Where to?"
"The office?"
"How about my apartment?"
"How about the office?"
"Maui? You know, Laura, a moonlit white sand beach would be the perfect setting to relax and sort this out."
"You never cease to amaze me. We're thousands of light years from Earth, hundreds of years from the 80swe're hologramsand you're still making passes."
He flashed an uncertain smile.
"
"Laura?"
She allowed herself a small smile.
"Ok."
He decided not to give her the opportunity to change her mind. He touched the screen.
The unfamiliar office around them melted into a surf-kissed beach complete with palms, starred sky, and distant craggy cliffs. His jacket and tie disappeared. His sleeves and pantlegs morphed from pressed to rolled up. Her pantsuit changed to a flowered skirt, with a sleeveless blouse knotted at her midriff. While Laura took in the view, he took in her.
Against his better judgment, he asked, "Why did you let me bring you here?"
"Like I said, we're holograms and you're still making passes." She turned away from the sea, toward him, and put her arms around him. "It's comforting to have something familiar."
"No other reason?"
"Such as?"
"Three weeks ago, by our flesh and blood counterparts' count, you said something in my apartment. What was it?" He feigned ignorance, hoping to hear her say it again.
Laura did not answer. She let go of him, her face lighting up. She snapped her fingers.
"That's it!"
"What's it, Laura?"
"Why Voyager is being held here and why we're here."
He waited for her to continue, but she was lost in thought.
"Laura, don't keep me in suspense."
"Seven has been monitoring us in Oregon. Harry and Tom were trying to determine what timeline we should be left in. We keep arguing."
He nodded. "Sounds like us."
"Maybe we're not supposed to."