HOSTILE TAKEOVER
BY AJ Squaredaway
PART FIVE
March 15, 2000
Washington DC
Al stood stiffly, his back to the masked men and steeled himself. He said his good-byes silently and quickly - Beth, each of his daughters, and of course Sam and everyone at the Project. Maybe Sam will come back and change this some day, he thought as he laced his fingers behind his head as ordered. He was surprised at the thought, then chastised himself. Why should that thought surprise me?
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he felt a burning spot where he figured the bullet would enter his head. Involuntarily, he held his breath, and that horrific picture of the Vietnamese man being executed with a pistol flew through his head. Stop it! He told himself, standing straighter. He closed his eyes and thought instead: All those years in the Navy, at sea and in the air and here I am dying underground. Whoda thunk. Sweat rolled down between his eyes. When several seconds passed without the expected explosion, he opened his eyes and realized the two men behind him were arguing. He cocked an eyebrow. Somethin's up, he thought with a slight grin, and his gut told him he was safe for now. Al was very familiar with the expected behavior of a captive; his Vietnam experience was a painful reminder, so he didn't move a muscle.
As the seconds ticked by, Al replayed his previous actions in his mind. Trying to keep a calm demeanor, he'd requested that the women be released in a show of good faith. All he could see of the tall man he addressed were his eyes and lips. Al had seen a flash of something in the man's eyes. Was it surprise? The emotion was quickly squelched, but something had gone on. Al couldn't fathom what that was about.
The resulting actions from his request had told him three things. First, they spoke a Middle Eastern dialect; second, the painful stab at his chest accented the fact they weren't in the mood to bargain; and third, at least one of them had a hot temper. It had been tough to keep up the passive front, and was almost glad to turn his back on his captors when the rifle was aimed at him and he was ordered to turn around. At least they couldn't see the rage he knew showed in his eyes at the time. He refused to believe they would shoot him, but he found himself holding his breath just the same and focused his thoughts on Beth and his family.
The heated debate between his captors stopped and became a long, nerve-wracking stretch of silence. He felt his wallet get plucked from his back pocket, and was shoved unceremoniously to the side and commanded to be silent. He took a seat and slowly let out his breath as the captors made the rounds collecting identification from each hostage, and patting everyone down for weapons. Mentally, he took stock of any possible weapons at hand, made a roster of hostages in his head, and readied himself for the duration. The two masked men that had argued were replaced by two clones, and disappeared in the darkness of the tunnel. Al wondered where they were going and how extensive their network was down here. And the idea that the tall man may have recognized him was unnerving.
He resolved to keep his eyes open and try to save everyone's butts.
******************
There was a collective sigh around Sam as they watched the drama unfold on the tiny screen. The fiber optic camera gave everything a weird, fish-eye bend that just added to the surreal feeling of the whole situation. He felt weak in the knees for a few moments when he finally realized his friend was given a reprieve.
"I'll connect this up to the CP, OK, sir?" The agent asked as he fiddled with the wires.
Slightly dazed, Sam realized he was being spoken to. "Yeah, do that." He turned to the guide that had brought him down here, now determined to find out who these people were and help his friend. "Let's go," he snapped. The guide nodded and left at a brisk pace with Sam close behind.
Sam's mind was whirling with thoughts, none of them ending happily for Al. This was complicated, and he wondered if he was able to handle it. When he popped his head out to the light of day, his face was etched with grim determination to save his friend. When he saw Dr. Fuller waiting for him behind some parked cars, he waved off his escort and headed straight for her.
"Al is in there! Is that why he's not here? What happens on this leap? Does he die?" Sam's voice shook at the very thought. "I'm here to save him, aren't I?"
Sammie Jo tried to keep a calm appearance although her heart was beating like crazy. That's the very thing she'd like to tell him, but there were other potential victims out there, too. "Dr. Beckett, you can't focus on just the Admiral. That's why we didn't tell you about him in the beginning. And I can't tell you what happens here, either. The Admiral's presence really muddies the waters, and we can't take any chances. You can't narrow your focus!"
Sam's eyes were burning with anger. "So that's why he's not here? So he won't influence me one way or the other, then? Or is he dead?"
She kept her emotions in check, and did not back down. She locked eyes with her father, and realized how much her eyes resembled his. Softening her stance only slightly, she said with finality, "I can't tell you. Your rules." She raised the link to call up the Imaging Chamber door but stopped herself from a coward's retreat.
Acting out of frustration, Sam reached out to grab her arm to stop her. As his hands passed through her, he realized the futileness of the motion. He raised his hands and shook his fists in the air as he turned his back on her. He took a few deep breaths, and paced. Slowly, he began to calm down. Sammie Jo looked on in silence, feeling completely useless. She couldn't deny him his anger, and stood quietly until he was ready to speak.
"OK, OK," he said to himself as he paced a small circle, finally stopping in front of the hologram once again. He ran his hands through his hair in a motion of resignation, calming his thoughts. Raising his head, he caught her eyes. For a second, a feeling of deja-vu overcame him when he saw her expression, confusing him momentarily. He got the feeling that there was more to Dr. Fuller than met the eye, but shook off the thought in order to concentrate on the present situation. Well, the present for him, that is. Or was. He sighed.
"Ziggy's being tight about information." Sammie Jo lied. "So there's not much about the bomb we can tell you. She says your arrival has already changed things and she refuses to speculate. I'll see what I can coerce out of her." This lying was getting to be too easy, and it made her uneasy. "I'll check back with you later. Be careful."
Sam saw shift in her eyes and the thought that she was lying crossed his mind. He immediately pushed the thought aside, refusing to believe it. "Tell Al 'hi' for me, OK?" He casually said instead.
She smiled softly. "Good try, Dr. Beckett." Then she tapped on the handlink and disappeared, relocating herself in the Senate subway.
***************************
Sammie Jo blinked at the abrupt change from daylight to dark, and stood still until her eyes adjusted. She could hear the mumbling and movements of people around her, and finally was able to make out the dark forms in the shadows of the tunnel. The tram had feeble interior lights, and it gave the impression that the captives were players on a lighted stage with Sammie Jo watching from the audience.
She was here to get fingerprints. Gooshie had rigged the handlink to act as a scanner and all she had to do was find something that the terrorists had touched. She didn't want to get too close, because she knew that Al could see her, and didn't want to surprise him or get him in any more trouble. Squinting in the poor lighting, she saw the Admiral seated on a rear bench among other men. The women had been separated and placed on the opposite side of the car, and she counted a dozen captives in all. She toyed with the idea of contacting Al. He should be able to see her, since her DNA was related to Dr. Beckett's, but she decided to hold off. He didn't need any attention drawn to him right now.
It was difficult to stay out of Al's sight, but she just had to make sure he was all right. She could see the anger in his profile, but he looked undamaged, so she backed off into the darkness again, and wandered down the tunnel. It wasn't easy to figure out who the leader was; they were all dressed so similarly that it took her awhile to keep them straight. She walked deeper into the tunnel and found a cluster of about eight of them listening intently to a tall man. This far down the tunnel they were out of sight of the hostages, so they had pushed their masks up and off their faces. Sammie Jo perked up and asked if the link could scan faces too. Ziggy replied with an affirmative.
The hologram quickly moved around the circle scanning faces, but was only able to get about four of them including the tall man before the circle broke up. She decided he was a leader by the way he gave directions and dispatched the men. Then he grabbed a metal pipe on the wall to balance himself as he stepped over an obstacle in the darkness. "Gotcha!" Sammie Jo whispered as she aimed the handlink beam at the pipe. She worked it around at different angles, and Ziggy squealed when an adequate print was photographed. "Mission accomplished," she whispered. She made a mental count of how many terrorists she had seen, then after checking that she was out of sight of the tram cars, she called for the Imaging Chamber door.
BY AJ Squaredaway
PART FIVE
March 15, 2000
Washington DC
Al stood stiffly, his back to the masked men and steeled himself. He said his good-byes silently and quickly - Beth, each of his daughters, and of course Sam and everyone at the Project. Maybe Sam will come back and change this some day, he thought as he laced his fingers behind his head as ordered. He was surprised at the thought, then chastised himself. Why should that thought surprise me?
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he felt a burning spot where he figured the bullet would enter his head. Involuntarily, he held his breath, and that horrific picture of the Vietnamese man being executed with a pistol flew through his head. Stop it! He told himself, standing straighter. He closed his eyes and thought instead: All those years in the Navy, at sea and in the air and here I am dying underground. Whoda thunk. Sweat rolled down between his eyes. When several seconds passed without the expected explosion, he opened his eyes and realized the two men behind him were arguing. He cocked an eyebrow. Somethin's up, he thought with a slight grin, and his gut told him he was safe for now. Al was very familiar with the expected behavior of a captive; his Vietnam experience was a painful reminder, so he didn't move a muscle.
As the seconds ticked by, Al replayed his previous actions in his mind. Trying to keep a calm demeanor, he'd requested that the women be released in a show of good faith. All he could see of the tall man he addressed were his eyes and lips. Al had seen a flash of something in the man's eyes. Was it surprise? The emotion was quickly squelched, but something had gone on. Al couldn't fathom what that was about.
The resulting actions from his request had told him three things. First, they spoke a Middle Eastern dialect; second, the painful stab at his chest accented the fact they weren't in the mood to bargain; and third, at least one of them had a hot temper. It had been tough to keep up the passive front, and was almost glad to turn his back on his captors when the rifle was aimed at him and he was ordered to turn around. At least they couldn't see the rage he knew showed in his eyes at the time. He refused to believe they would shoot him, but he found himself holding his breath just the same and focused his thoughts on Beth and his family.
The heated debate between his captors stopped and became a long, nerve-wracking stretch of silence. He felt his wallet get plucked from his back pocket, and was shoved unceremoniously to the side and commanded to be silent. He took a seat and slowly let out his breath as the captors made the rounds collecting identification from each hostage, and patting everyone down for weapons. Mentally, he took stock of any possible weapons at hand, made a roster of hostages in his head, and readied himself for the duration. The two masked men that had argued were replaced by two clones, and disappeared in the darkness of the tunnel. Al wondered where they were going and how extensive their network was down here. And the idea that the tall man may have recognized him was unnerving.
He resolved to keep his eyes open and try to save everyone's butts.
******************
There was a collective sigh around Sam as they watched the drama unfold on the tiny screen. The fiber optic camera gave everything a weird, fish-eye bend that just added to the surreal feeling of the whole situation. He felt weak in the knees for a few moments when he finally realized his friend was given a reprieve.
"I'll connect this up to the CP, OK, sir?" The agent asked as he fiddled with the wires.
Slightly dazed, Sam realized he was being spoken to. "Yeah, do that." He turned to the guide that had brought him down here, now determined to find out who these people were and help his friend. "Let's go," he snapped. The guide nodded and left at a brisk pace with Sam close behind.
Sam's mind was whirling with thoughts, none of them ending happily for Al. This was complicated, and he wondered if he was able to handle it. When he popped his head out to the light of day, his face was etched with grim determination to save his friend. When he saw Dr. Fuller waiting for him behind some parked cars, he waved off his escort and headed straight for her.
"Al is in there! Is that why he's not here? What happens on this leap? Does he die?" Sam's voice shook at the very thought. "I'm here to save him, aren't I?"
Sammie Jo tried to keep a calm appearance although her heart was beating like crazy. That's the very thing she'd like to tell him, but there were other potential victims out there, too. "Dr. Beckett, you can't focus on just the Admiral. That's why we didn't tell you about him in the beginning. And I can't tell you what happens here, either. The Admiral's presence really muddies the waters, and we can't take any chances. You can't narrow your focus!"
Sam's eyes were burning with anger. "So that's why he's not here? So he won't influence me one way or the other, then? Or is he dead?"
She kept her emotions in check, and did not back down. She locked eyes with her father, and realized how much her eyes resembled his. Softening her stance only slightly, she said with finality, "I can't tell you. Your rules." She raised the link to call up the Imaging Chamber door but stopped herself from a coward's retreat.
Acting out of frustration, Sam reached out to grab her arm to stop her. As his hands passed through her, he realized the futileness of the motion. He raised his hands and shook his fists in the air as he turned his back on her. He took a few deep breaths, and paced. Slowly, he began to calm down. Sammie Jo looked on in silence, feeling completely useless. She couldn't deny him his anger, and stood quietly until he was ready to speak.
"OK, OK," he said to himself as he paced a small circle, finally stopping in front of the hologram once again. He ran his hands through his hair in a motion of resignation, calming his thoughts. Raising his head, he caught her eyes. For a second, a feeling of deja-vu overcame him when he saw her expression, confusing him momentarily. He got the feeling that there was more to Dr. Fuller than met the eye, but shook off the thought in order to concentrate on the present situation. Well, the present for him, that is. Or was. He sighed.
"Ziggy's being tight about information." Sammie Jo lied. "So there's not much about the bomb we can tell you. She says your arrival has already changed things and she refuses to speculate. I'll see what I can coerce out of her." This lying was getting to be too easy, and it made her uneasy. "I'll check back with you later. Be careful."
Sam saw shift in her eyes and the thought that she was lying crossed his mind. He immediately pushed the thought aside, refusing to believe it. "Tell Al 'hi' for me, OK?" He casually said instead.
She smiled softly. "Good try, Dr. Beckett." Then she tapped on the handlink and disappeared, relocating herself in the Senate subway.
***************************
Sammie Jo blinked at the abrupt change from daylight to dark, and stood still until her eyes adjusted. She could hear the mumbling and movements of people around her, and finally was able to make out the dark forms in the shadows of the tunnel. The tram had feeble interior lights, and it gave the impression that the captives were players on a lighted stage with Sammie Jo watching from the audience.
She was here to get fingerprints. Gooshie had rigged the handlink to act as a scanner and all she had to do was find something that the terrorists had touched. She didn't want to get too close, because she knew that Al could see her, and didn't want to surprise him or get him in any more trouble. Squinting in the poor lighting, she saw the Admiral seated on a rear bench among other men. The women had been separated and placed on the opposite side of the car, and she counted a dozen captives in all. She toyed with the idea of contacting Al. He should be able to see her, since her DNA was related to Dr. Beckett's, but she decided to hold off. He didn't need any attention drawn to him right now.
It was difficult to stay out of Al's sight, but she just had to make sure he was all right. She could see the anger in his profile, but he looked undamaged, so she backed off into the darkness again, and wandered down the tunnel. It wasn't easy to figure out who the leader was; they were all dressed so similarly that it took her awhile to keep them straight. She walked deeper into the tunnel and found a cluster of about eight of them listening intently to a tall man. This far down the tunnel they were out of sight of the hostages, so they had pushed their masks up and off their faces. Sammie Jo perked up and asked if the link could scan faces too. Ziggy replied with an affirmative.
The hologram quickly moved around the circle scanning faces, but was only able to get about four of them including the tall man before the circle broke up. She decided he was a leader by the way he gave directions and dispatched the men. Then he grabbed a metal pipe on the wall to balance himself as he stepped over an obstacle in the darkness. "Gotcha!" Sammie Jo whispered as she aimed the handlink beam at the pipe. She worked it around at different angles, and Ziggy squealed when an adequate print was photographed. "Mission accomplished," she whispered. She made a mental count of how many terrorists she had seen, then after checking that she was out of sight of the tram cars, she called for the Imaging Chamber door.