Disclaimer: Neither Stargate:SG1 nor Quantum Leap belong to me... in fact nor do any other TV or book series, and I have no intention of claiming that they do. I hereby swear that I will try to play nicely and not damage any of the lovely characters.
Reviewers: you stars! For today's treat we have Sainsburys 'Taste The Difference' Chocolate Mousse – it's absolutely massive. Imagine a bottomless pit of lovely fluffy cocoa-ness and you have it right there :)
ellenar: I would love to do daily updates, but I can't quite get there... 3-5 a week I can handle though (depends how bored – and cheeky – I get at work!)
NB: I've pieced together the details for this chapter from assorted websites, and not all of them match. A lot of it is educated guesswork based around what the series lets on and the normal course of events in the military, e.g. rough dates of Jack's promotions and what sort of studies he might have done at the Academy.
Jack's year of birth is definitely an odd one though – I know that during "Brief Candle" he said he was 40 years old, backtracking to 1957... however I have also been informed that his ID in another episode states 1952. He graduated from the USAF academy in 1974 though, therefore I have decided to go with 1952 – I do think that Jack is smarter than he lets on, but not quite smart enough to be an officer at the age of 17!
As for his birthday, guesses are welcome as to how I plucked that one out of the air :)
Al swept into the operations room at Project Quantum Leap, and it was immediately evident to anyone who saw him that he was pissed. Every once in a while a Leapee who just didn't want to know came along, and this O'Neill guy was one of them. What made things more annoying was that he was military, so they'd probably have a harder time of locating Sam simply because military moved around a lot more than normal people – or worse, were sent to places that few people knew about.
Bracing himself for the worst, Al sank into a chair and fixed his gaze on Gooshie.
"What have we got, Goosh? Tell me where Sam is."
Gooshie, for his part, carried on working around Ziggy, occasionally glancing back at the Admiral... who was still waiting. Al knew that he must have something, because the Waiting Room contained plenty of microphones to collect and record conversations with the Leapees. With a name, there came information, and he wanted it.
"Come on Gooshie, if it's bad, I wanna know now so I can go pump this guy for more information." With no response from the Project's Head Programmer, Al turned to the brightly lit modules in the centre of the room – brighter than his clothes even. "Ziggy, honey, can you tell me what's going on because Dr Gooshman here isn't helping matters."
As ever, Al was surprised when Ziggy answered in a seductive, feminine voice. It wasn't that the parallel hybrid computer was a 'she' that bothered him – though he didn't have the greatest track record with females – but that a computer could sound so... sexy. He almost found himself flirting with her sometimes, as an automatic reaction to being in a woman's presence. It also put him on edge, as if she might try to sue him for alimony without ever having been married. Lord knew he'd spent more time around her than he had some of his ex-wives, though at least his current girlfriend, Tina, actually worked at the Project. Al knew that Ziggy's creation and programming had been a breakthrough in artificial intelligence, but why the hell did Sam make her female? It gave him the heebie jeebies.
"I'm afraid that we haven't found any useful information as yet, Admiral. Colonel Jack O'Neill, it seems, has had a long and secretive career. I am current requesting permission to access certain military archives in order to locate Dr Beckett more accurately."
"More accurately?" Al almost jumped out of his chair. "You mean you do have an idea then?"
"Um, yes and no, Al," Gooshie piped up. "We know that Jack O'Neill has been a black ops man for most of his career in the Air Force, and he's got a lot of medals, but even the small amount that we can access happened before he became a Colonel. We're having trouble tracking him down after that promotion, and since he's still listed in the USAF files as a Colonel we could find that Sam is any time from 1993 to the present day."
'That's all I need,' thought Al, trying to think of anyone he could lean on to get hold of that extra security clearance. Ziggy could already interface with most of the databases in the United States relevant to Project Quantum Leap, and some abroad – whether full of newspapers, demographic data or service records – but even Al's high level permissions didn't extend to the present day... yet. He knew that there were excellent reasons for maintaining confidentiality over the whereabouts of certain personnel, but when Sam was at stake he didn't give two hoots.
"Ok Ziggy, give me a run down on everything we've got."
Still a computer despite her artificial intelligence and 'Barbara Streisand' ego, Ziggy acknowledged the Admiral's command and displayed pictures and data on a monitor while she listed the details so far.
"Jonathon O'Neill, born January 23rd 1952 in Chicago, Illinois. Raised in Minnesota and still owns a cabin there, inherited from his grandfather. Entered the Air Force Academy in 1970 aged 18, graduated 1974 and noted for 'Academic Excellence Achieved in Military Sciences and Engineering'. Trained in the flight of numerous military planes, but no indication that he was ever assigned pilot duties. Bachelors degree in Aeronautical Engineering gained 1974, Masters in Military Strategic Studies in 1985 just prior to his promotion to the rank of Major."
'Ok, this is my kinda man. A flyer with an education,' thought Al, thinking back to his days at Annapolis and MIT. 'I can deal with this...'
"Further training and commendations. Captain O'Neill received a statue and plaque from the Air Force Special Operations Unit at Mildenhall Air Base, England in 1990, circumstances unknown. In addition, Major O'Neill took part in unspecified training at Langley, Virginia and completed the Air Commando Operations Course in 1992. As a Lt. Colonel he was recognized for 'Excellence of Achievement While Conducting Special Operations under the auspices of the USAF Space Systems Command' – details unknown."
Al's face was resigned. If this guy was Special Ops, and recently, they were going to have a hard time tracking him down... He really was going to have to lean on someone. Then again, the mention of "USAF Space Systems Command" gave him a little hope since many of the guys running that show had done a tour at NASA round about the time he'd worked there himself. There was a good chance that he could phone an old friend with some enquiries, if they could find a plausible explanation for trying to track down a certain Jack O'Neill that is.
"Medals awarded to the present day," Ziggy continued, "include the National Defence Service Medal, Air Force Commendation Medal, Air Medal, several Purple Hearts, Bronze Star, Silver Star, Distinguished Service Medal and the Air Force Cross."
"What?" Al shot out of his chair, interrupting the computer in mid-flow.
"I can repeat if you wish, Admiral," she suggested with such sultry sweetness that Al was sure she knew what he was thinking.
This man had more medals than he did, and he was nearly 20 years younger! It didn't bode well, since the US hadn't taken part in too many major wars since Vietnam and this guy would have graduated to late for that pleasure. That, and there might just be a mite of professional jealousy tucked away inside himself – though Al reminded himself that he had also been one of the last men on the Moon before the Apollo program was shut down, which was much better than any damn medal.
Gooshie, still working on the other side of the room, looked like he was trying not to laugh. Al, on the other hand wasn't keen on giving the strange pair any more material.
"Sorry, Ziggy – carry on, carry on," a generous smile replaced the frown as Al waved toward the monitor, ingratiatingly. He could be gracious, magnanimous even, couldn't he?
"No active duty recorded, nor circumstances surrounding the award of medals despite over 20 years' service," the hybrid computer picked up where she left off. "Certain mission details have been extrapolated from confidential Pentagon reports however. In 1982 Captain O'Neill took part in Operation East Fly, mission to retrieve a Russian agent known as Boris from East Germany. The mission was deemed a failure when snipers killed commanding officer Colonel John Michaels and several other members of the team."
Al shook his head, tut-tutting quietly, but waved again to indicate that Ziggy should continue.
"There is also a record of a Major Jack O'Neill refusing counselling following a relatively long period of captivity during Operation Desert Storm. All that we know is that he escaped alone and made it out of the country while severely injured. No other details recorded, but it would seem likely from your conversation with Colonel O'Neill that this is the same man. It would be safe to assume that this followed a covert operation, as he was not listed as an active participant in the Gulf War."
"That would be a fair guess, wouldn't it Gooshie?" Al commented, sarcastically. Ziggy was the world's most powerful and intuitive computer, so she rarely needed to guess. Al, on the other hand, was an impatient old Admiral who was getting grouchier by the minute.
"Major O'Neill was promoted to the rank of Colonel in 1993, however Colonel O'Neill has so far retired from the Air Force twice, both times in 1996. Reasons unlisted, however he was evidently recalled to duty in both instances and is listed in current files as being on the staff at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado. Project described as deep space telemetry."
"Ha!" interrupted Al, yet again. "That's all we need, another staffer on an underground, top secret base with no link to the outside world."
"May I continue, Admiral," Ziggy asked, all politeness now. Sometimes Al really wanted give her a good kick in the hard drive, he really did.
"Yes, dear lady, please go on."
"Personal details. Married wife Sara in 1986, one son born 1987. Death of son Charlie in 1996 aged 9, verdict misadventure. Newspaper report indicates that the son accidentally shot himself using his father's weapon at home. Refused counselling once again, but retired for the first time shortly afterwards. Reinstated briefly in the same year, before second retirement. Divorce papers lodged during this return to duty by Sara O'Neill. Records suggest second reinstatement during 1997."
Al sat forward, his face in his hands. He'd never had children, but he did know the aching void left by his sister Trudie. When you had no-one else to turn to, the loss of any family member of friend was a major blow.
He fought back tears and blinked hard, standing up again and moving round to Gooshie's terminal. "Ziggy, was Jack O'Neill a Colonel when his son... died?"
"Yes, Admiral, he was," the computer affirmed. "Based on the information available, this appears to be the most traumatic period in Jack O'Neill's life and we can only assume that it damaged his physical and mental well-being significantly. In addition, despite his double reinstatement to the USAF – both at his previous rank – there is a 90% probability that the reassignment of an officer experienced in covert operations to what is essentially a defensive research facility was due to a decreased ability to handle his normal duties."
Admiral Albert Calavicci nodded slowly. He'd known a lot of men who had served their country brilliantly and with immense strength and resourcefulness, only to be struck down from their careers by... something. Not necessarily the wish to raise a family without fear of their kids losing a parent, nor a failed mission, nor even a particularly long spell in the field hospital hooked up to all kinds of machines that no one ever wanted to think about - it could literally be anything. It always seemed to be the best ones who were hit the worst too. They could bounce back a hundred times before they were felled for good, and nothing was quite the same again afterwards. If they didn't find anything to live for during that initial period of grief, loss, remorse, whatever, it was like they'd never been there at all. Some people said they were in the 'badlands,' but Al called them the 'lost.'
Then again, the Colonel O'Neill that he'd just met – for all that he looked exactly like Sam Beckett right now – seemed too aggressive, too defiant to be one of the 'lost'. Not unless he was hoping that someone would break him, punish him... That was a possibility, since the kid had died through his dad's weapon – there had to be some feeling of guilt in there. Maybe this had translated into an unfulfilled wish to commit suicide, and he simply couldn't do it himself.
"Ok Ziggy, so you're concentrating on the time leading up to Charlie's death, right? Is Sam supposed to stop the kid from dying?"
Gooshie looked up, even more wild-eyed than usual. "I'm afraid not Al – we've just run a comprehensive search for Sam's neurons across the whole of Colorado for the 6 months before and after that incident, and we can't find him anywhere."
"Shoot!" Al vented, as vehemently as he dared in the presence of Ziggy's unpredictable cybernetic ego. "Well I guess it can't be the Gulf War or that thing in East Germany since he wasn't a Colonel then. This is going to be a tough one."
Gooshie nodded, while Ziggy's brightly coloured modules continued to flash intermittently. "All we know is that Sam could be any time from 1993 to the present day. It's a lot to search, especially since we have no idea where Jack O'Neill was for most of that time – he could have been anywhere in the world!"
"Gentlemen," Ziggy interrupted. "My sensors indicate that Colonel O'Neill is now asleep in the Waiting Room, and I suggest that you do the same. If his time zone is passing through the night at this point, Dr Beckett's will do also and since the time here is also late it would not do either of you any good to tire yourselves out. I am more than able to continue the search for Dr Beckett in your absence."
The two men looked at each other, one blinking, the other rolling his eyes and shaking his head in despair.
"Yes, Mom."
Al hated it when she pulled something like this on them, because he knew that even though her beloved creator was on the line she would refuse to allow either of them access to her data or her controls until the morning.
'Damn ego...' he grumbled inwardly, not wanting to risk his chances any further by annoying the irritating computer.
"I left Tina at home anyway, so I should be getting on – she'll be keeping the bed warm for me I'm sure."
This time it was Gooshie's turn to roll his eyes. "You don't deserve that woman, Al, you really don't."
"Hey, she can leave me if she wants can't she? I keep no secrets from my girl, and couldn't even if I wanted to because either you or Ziggy here would probably spill the beans."
"Gentlemen?"
It was no longer a polite request, even though it was framed as such, so the two men headed toward the door.
"Ok Ziggy, your call. See you at 0600 hours?" Al questioned, wondering for the umpteenth time who was really in charge of this project.
"6am...?" Gooshie shuddered, even as Ziggy assented that yes, Project Quantum Leap would resume operations at 0600 the next day.
"Fine then, I'll see you folks in the morning. And find out more about that telemetry project if you can, Ziggy – I know Sam doesn't tend to Leap to the recent past, but you never know. If you have no luck by morning, I'll start calling in favours."
And with that Al walked through the door, still in something of a mental tangle but otherwise conscious of Ziggy's practicality in sending them home. Typical woman. He and Gooshie rode the elevator together, exiting the Stallions Gate facility after flashing their ID to the Marines on duty. Drawing one of his trademark cigars from his coat's breast pocket as he walked to the car, he stuck it in his mouth and chewed contently. Lighting it would come later, for now it just felt right – like an extra appendage that had been outlawed due to anti-smoking laws.
"See you in the morning, Gooshie!"
"Ok, Al!" Came the reply from the other side of the car park. "Don't stay up all night!"
'Yeh right, like I could sleep at a time like this' thought the Admiral, as he climbed into his experimental model car. It had originally be a 'perk' of the job, but now he just saw it as one more thing that his friend Sam - the real driving force behind Project Quantum Leap - should have, along with a normal life, but couldn't.
Next chapter: Sam's lab