Road Trip - A Look before the Leap

The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.

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Prelude

It was perfect fall weather for Washington. The temperature hovered in the mid-60s and the sun was bright and warming. However, Sam and Al didn't get much time to enjoy the beautiful city. Most of their hours were spent in front of the Senate Committee that would give final approval for the financing of Project Quantum Leap. After days of testimony and answering question after question it was time to wrap things up. One last meeting after lunch and then it was done. They would find out if their request for a five year commitment of 43 billion dollars would be given. If the project was denied, it meant the end of the Admiral's long career. Without Quantum Leap, there would be no reason to stay in the Navy and he would finally give into the linear timeline they were currently living in. It meant the "public sector," a phrase that made him cringe.

The Committee had a lot of good questions and most members were receptive to the unique humanitarian aspect of the project. Seven men and women sat on their side of the room while Sam and Al sat on theirs. Senator Janet Summerfield headed the group by quietly letting others take the lead. She maintained control with gentle persuasion and both Sam and Al were impressed with her leadership skills. In fact, they were impressed with the entire committee except for Patrick O'Reilly. For some reason, Senator O'Reilly just didn't get it. He didn't or wouldn't understand the importance of the science involved. The remaining members were polite, interested, and even enthusiastic.

The days had been long and had taken their toll on both men. Aspirin and coffee could only do so much before they became deficits rather than assets. So, when it came time for his closing address, Al was near complete exhaustion, but sometimes he did his best work at times when lesser men folded. Sam was explaining the finer points of symmetry and the next phase of quantum physics. It was the kind of conversation that intrigued the pair for days on end, but these were politicians. Sam watched eyes glaze over and he learned from Al when to give it up. He gracefully concluded his explanation using analogies appropriate for junior high kids. They started to perk up. "So, each moment of your life can touch another moment out of sequence."

Senator Summerfield thought she got it, but was more concerned about other things. "I'm not going to even pretend I understand your science. We have heard four days of testimony about your credentials and I believe you can do what you are telling us." She started laughing a little, "Right now, I think we are just about at capacity with the physics. So, would you like some time to prepare your summations?"

Al held up his hand, "Senator, I'm ready to proceed unless you want to break for lunch."

Senator Summerfield and the Admiral had been friends awhile. She knew he was never boring. "I think we can take some time here to listen. Keep it brief, Admiral."

He smiled, "I always do." It took a moment to pack away the papers in front of him and leave the table clear. Sam knew Al was writing his words while doing the busy work. In no more than twenty seconds he began, "Ladies and Gentlemen, you have heard about the science and the potential for this project in terms of the exploration of medical technology, space flight, its ability to intervene in major crises in our world, but it is more than that. A small ripple, a small change in a single life can create new histories. One person makes a difference and through Quantum Leap, we can make lives better, but who can determine all the after effects of those changes? There is a tremendous implication to this work."

Senator O'Reilly started squirming in his seat and Al took note. There was no love lost between the two men and the fact that O'Reilly made it onto the Committee always irked the Admiral. The Senator was getting ready to pounce and even Sam who usually didn't catch things like that could see there was going to be an explosion. His eyes met the Admiral's briefly and Sam knew something was up, but he didn't know how to prepare for it so he just kept quiet while Al continued.

The Admiral had the unique ability to make summations up on the spot, addressing the specific concerns the panel presented. Then when those questions were answered, he spoke from his heart. "We have outrageous potential here. The scientific community can merge with the sociology. In this project we have the potential to achieve a world where hunger is minimized, people live longer and more healthful lives, and wars are averted or if not, at least the devastation on civilians might be minimized. Maybe our men and women in service might have a better chance to come home alive."

O'Reilly started clicking his tongue like a nun in a second grade classroom. The sound wasn't lost on the Admiral who stopped talking and confronted the interruption. "Senator O'Reilly, if you want to say something, just say it."

The Senator heaved a long sigh making his disdain obvious. "Admiral Calavicci, I was wondering when you'd throw the war card. We all know your record. We all know it is commendable, but when are you going to stop using Vietnam to finagle excessive amounts of money from your government? I think we've repaid already by indulging your whimsical experiments in science time after time. First Star Light where we gave you an Apollo mission. Follow that up with Star Bright which brought us very little and now you want us to believe that Quantum Leap can stop wars?"

"I didn't say that, Senator."

O'Reilly stared at Al with contempt bordering on hate. "Your kind of arrogance amazes me. Your six years MIA in Vietnam has never been worth 43 billion dollars. You volunteered for service and knew what you were getting into. Why would you think we owe you anything other than a thank you?" He sat back in his chair and folded his hands on top of his abundant gut. "Now, start your summation again. This time leave war stories out of it."

Cruel silence sealed the room. No one in earshot could believe what was just said. Sam looked over at the Admiral expecting to see Al's color go crimson, but if anything, the older man grew pale. Al leaned into the microphone, grabbed O'Reilly's eyes with dark brown daggers and wouldn't let go. He quietly told the man, "You, sir, are a God damn pig." He had to take a few deep breaths. His gaze never veered from the Senator. Standing up to the accusation the Admiral said, "I apologize to the rest of the Committee for calling Senator O'Reilly a God damn pig, but as with everything else I have said over these past four days, it is the truth. Thank you." His hand wiped across his face and he picked up his hat.

Without another word, Al walked out of the chamber leaving Sam alone to face the stunned group. He looked at them, a deer in headlights. Senator Summerfield broke the intensity. "Dr. Beckett, I'd like to say a few things here. First, I publicly want to dissociate myself and the other senators from any of Senator O'Reilly's remarks. They were rude, ridiculous and in no way indicative of the general opinion of this Committee. Second, I would like to take a ten-minute recess before we hear your closing statement so that we can gather our senses and react sanely and with objectivity. Certainly Senator O'Reilly has angered all of us a bit and that needs to be assuaged before we go on. And finally, I want to apologize to you and Admiral Calavicci for the totally unwarranted remarks we just heard. I am sorry." She swung a gavel and its loud crack gave everyone permission to slither into a corner and to try to regain some composure. It also gave Sam a minute to try to find the Admiral.

He bolted out of the chamber and into the hallway. There were plenty of blue suits, but none with gold braid on the cuffs. The Admiral disappeared. Sam had a sinking feeling. This was going to be a very bad day and it wasn't even noon. He only had time to check one more place. He pushed the door of the men's room and found absolutely no one at all. "Al, where are you? Damn." He took the opportunity to splash some water on his face before going back into the inquisition.

Marble floors make footsteps echo and he listened to each click of his heels as he plodded back into the chamber. They were all there, back in their chairs. Before he had a chance to sink into his seat, Senator Summerfield began. "Dr. Beckett, the committee will be recessing today and I'm afraid we will have to postpone our vote on your proposal. I'm not sure exactly when the vote will come up, but it should be no longer than two weeks. Since you've been working on this proposal for more than two years, I hope two more weeks won't inconvenience you further. Maybe when you're leaping through time, you can correct what happened here today." She slammed the gavel down and the committee left without anyone saying anything to anyone.

Sam was taken aback. This couldn't possibly be good news. He stopped biting his lower lip when he thought he tasted blood. God knew where Al took off. The Admiral had a history of disappearing when certain nerves were touched. Obviously Senator O'Reilly hit a good one. The only thing he could do was go to the hotel and hope Al eventually would return to the suite.

He grabbed his briefcase and loaded it with all the papers. Each scrap reminded him of another part of the project. It was the culmination of a lifetime of education and dreams and it was gone. All chances for Quantum Leap were blown out of the water by Al's response to O'Reilly's taunt. Their upcoming conversation wasn't going to be good.

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The door to the suite slammed hard and loud. Even the light in the entry buzzed with the vibration. He threw his hat on the table with such anger that it skittered off landing upside down on the floor, but he didn't even bother to pick it up. There was mad and then there was fury. This was raging fury. It was all fucked and it was his fault. Every God damn time he got close to getting what he wanted, he fucked it up. There was an added bonus this time though. He fucked it up for Sam Beckett, too.

Somewhere in his gear he had gym shorts. There was a boxing club not too far away that had a heavy bag with a big need to get pounded and he was in the mood to do it. Five minutes later, he was in jeans and a sweatshirt, his gym clothes in a bag and jogging, no make that running, to Foster's Gym and Fight Club. If he couldn't go back to alcohol, then he'd go back to beating the crap out of inanimate objects. Made sense to him.

Sam got to their suite and found the Admiral's uniform unceremoniously dumped onto the bed. It wasn't like neat freak Al to do that so Sam knew emotions were running very, very hot. At least he'd been there and now was probably out doing something to let off steam. A quick look skyward and a prayer asked God to help keep Al from drinking again. That struggle was on the verge of being conquered and the thought of Al would backsliding seemed inevitable.

Who knew where the man was? The best thing to do was sit tight and wait for him to return. In the meantime, Sam hung up the uniform, picked up the hat from the floor, grabbed the phone and ordered lunch.

Time passed so slowly until Sam realized, he'd eaten hours earlier. He pushed the cart back out into the hallway, sat down in front of the television and now the news was on. It was 6:30 and they had dinner plans at eight o'clock. Sam was getting anxious and pacing seemed appropriate. He only traversed the room three times before he heard the door opening. "Al?"

The Admiral entered with a determined attitude and under a great deal of control, almost too tight a control. "Yeah. I went to the gym. Felt damn good."

Sarcastically he said, "I'm so glad." Sam wanted to shake the man. "I was worried about you. You left a little fast."

He tossed the gym bag on the floor and flopped into an overstuffed chair. "Who wanted to wait around to hear them shoot us down? I've been shot down - twice. It ain't a good time."

Sam sat across from him. "I'm not sure we were shot down."

Al bolted upright. "What?"

"Senator Summerfield said to come back in two weeks. She even cracked a joke about maybe the project could come back and fix this timeline."

The statement made Al's emotions flip. "Then we got it." His stunned face had a guppy quality, his mouth hanging open.

"How do you know?"

Still not quite ready to believe what he just heard he said, "You have a photographic memory. Tell me exactly what she said."

He had to think a moment, but he repeated, "'Since you've been working on this proposal for more than two years, I hope two more weeks won't inconvenience you further. Maybe when you're leaping through time, you can correct what happened here today.' That's it word for word."

The smile was big and Al wasn't one to smile big too often. "She's getting O'Reilly thrown off the committee so we can get the unanimous vote." The vote for the project had to be unanimous. When asking for 43 billion dollars for a secret project, you'd better have unanimity on your committee. "Kid, we got it. No doubt in my mind."

Sam wasn't convinced. "Glad you think so. At least when we talk to Gooshie tonight, you can be enthusiastic." The Admiral got that "who" look on his face. "Oh, Al, the programmer we've been courting for almost a year, we're taking him to dinner."

"That's right. We're going to Verdi's. Shit, I have to shower and change." Standing up he pointed at Sam. "You have to change, too. Verdi's is dressy."

"Speaking of which, I hung up your dress blues."

"Thanks, but I'm not wearing my uniform. We have a party to go to after dinner."

"Party?"

Al started into his room. "Yeah, I met a buddy at Foster's. Invited us to a party at SecNav's tonight. We're going."

"The Secretary of the Navy? Who's your buddy?"

Without turning around Al said, "The SecNav." He walked away with a lightness in his step and singing "When I get older, losing my hair many years from now. . ."

The Admiral's mood turned back to his typical self-confident identity, but Sam was a little disturbed that he could move from one to the other so quickly. Something was still eating his friend. As he went toward his room, he wished he had Al's insight. Actually he was praying that Al's insight was correct and that the funding was theirs.

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Verdi's - the fabulous fabulously expensive restaurant made anyone who was anyone sigh and that was saying a lot. Sam made the reservation months earlier. He and Al were finally meeting the man they had spoken to over the phone for nearly a year. This was the only person with the right stuff to be Chief Programmer for Quantum Leap. The regal dining room would show him that Quantum Leap intended to take care of him very well.

Sam and Al entered the foyer where tuxedoed staff took their coats. The maître d' immediately came to them. "Buona notte, Admiral Calavicci. Good to see you again."

Sam whispered in Al's ear. "Again? Have you been everywhere?"

"Just about." He smiled at Carlo. "Good to see you too, Carlo. We have a reservation. I think we requested the corner table."

Carlo checked the book and became ashen. "I don't have your name here, Admiral. I don't understand."

At posh restaurants, Sam was used to being ignored when in the Al's company. The Admiral had been a national hero since he brought home a badly damaged space craft in one piece with every crew member safe and sound. That kind of notoriety people remembered. Sucking in his ego, Sam said, "I made the reservation. Try Beckett."

The book was checked again and Carlo smiled. "Si, Dr. Beckett. Forgive me. I'll put you at the corner table as per the Admiral's request. Is the third member of your party still coming?"

Al took control from the younger man. He usually did when it came to these kind of fancy places. "Should be here in a few minutes, but we'll take the table now."

"Certainly, sir. Please, Admiral Calavicci, Dr. Beckett, follow me."

They made their way through the restaurant and sat at what appeared to be the most distinguished table in the place. Again, Sam whispered, "How do you do that?"

Al said nothing, but thanked Carlo for seating them and sat on the far side so he could view the entire room. "When you grow up Italian, you learn. Always sit with your back to the wall. I had an Uncle Vito who didn't remember to do that."

Their waiter came over immediately. Al looked up, "Two fingers Glenmorangie straight up."

Sam always got flustered when people waited on him in fancy restaurants. The most elegant place he ate in when growing up was the Elk Ridge Lodge. His mother used to make him wear a sport coat and his clip-on tie. "Um, seven and seven."

The waiter wasn't sure he heard correctly. Al stepped in telling the waiter, "He's from Iowa."

As the waiter walked away Al started laughing. Sam wasn't amused. "You know I'm from Indiana. Why is the Midwest funny around here?"

"Unless you're a graduate of Notre Dame, Indiana is farm boys with no culture and when you order . . ." his nose crunched up in disgust, "a seven and seven, well, you're not doing anything to change their opinion."

"I like seven and seven. I'm not going to apologize for it."

"No one's telling you to. In fact, I admire you're willingness to be yourself."

A busman came by with water. Sam took a sip and thought it was time to tease his friend. "So, Mr. Urbane, where did you pick up sophistication? The orphanage?"

He'd been kicked out of St. Paul's Orphanage at 16, so it was quite a few years behind him, but many years of practice made it easy for him to hide the cringe in his heart every time the place was mentioned. Covering again, he smiled, "You'd be surprised. Those nuns taught us a lot."

"Did they teach you about single malt scotch, too?"

The drinks arrived. Al shook his head. "No, that was Brother LeRoy." He took a sip of the scotch. "Glenmorangie makes a good scotch." He put the glass down and savored the smoky 18 year old scotch. "Okay, what is this guy's name again?"

The Admiral had selective memory. He could rattle off the 175 step checklist for taking up the space shuttle, but if he didn't want to recall a name, then he didn't. Too many times Sam enlightened him and he wasn't going to say the many multi-syllabic Eastern European name again. "Just call him Gooshie. That's what he asked us to call him."

"Gooshie, yeah." Al nodded toward the front of the restaurant. "Please don't tell me that unmade bed coming toward us is our programmer."

Sam smiled and got up to greet this red-headed, mustached, sad-sack, computer geek. "Yeah, that's him." Enthusiasm was squelched a little when he realized that two opposing forces were about to meet face to face. "You be nice to him. He's the best programmer in the country, probably the world."

"I'm nice." In his head, the Admiral thought his entire reputation was shot. He had a hayseed and a walking pocket protector at the same table with him and neither had the good fortune to be a beautiful lady. "God, make this night get over quick."

Gooshie was a fur ball of enthusiasm. Just like a kitten discovering catnip he gregariously shook Sam's hand. "Dr. Beckett, I am so pleased to meet you face to face. This is an honor. I have studied your Nobel work and it is astounding." He looked over at the Admiral. "And you sir," his hand went out, "I have admired you for so long. I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. I watched with rapt attention when you landed that disabled spacecraft. It was astounding."

Seemed Gooshie liked to be astounded. Al shook the eager hand and motioned for him to sit. "Thanks, Gooshie. I'm glad you could meet us here." All three were seated as the Admiral continued. "I guess we're here to get your answer to our offer."

It was a little too straightforward for Sam. "Al, let's have dinner first."

"No, Dr. Beckett, the Admiral is right. Let's get business over and then we can chat." The waiter came by. "I would like a martini, stirred, not shaken." The waiter left. "You know, James Bond has it all wrong. You never want to shake a martini. You chip the ice that way and it dilutes the alcohol. Much better to be stirred gently than shaken. Bond did nothing for the martini drinking world by telling people to shake instead of stir."

Nodding his head, Al agreed. "You know, you're the first person I've heard to agree with me on that. Never shake a martini. I'm impressed, Goosh."

"Thank you, sir." He put both elbows on the table and leaned toward the other men. "So, did you get your funding?"

The next hour was spent rehashing the four day of testimony, the explosion by Senator O'Reilly and Al's retreat from the chambers. As they ate dinner, Sam and Al watched various bits of food drop onto Gooshie's shirt and jacket and yet both men found him fascinating. He definitely fit into the work they were about to embark on and they wanted a "yes" from him before they finished their meal. Al brought up the question again. "So, Gooshie, you joining us or what?"

"I'm not sure, yet. I need to meditate on it and tomorrow I'm flying to Tibet to get centered at a Buddhist Temple there."

Sam was shocked. "I didn't realize you were Buddhist."

Gooshie shoved a forkful of polenta into his mouth, but that didn't keep him from talking. "Oh, I'm not. I just go there when I have big decisions to make and this is a big decision. See, I'm happy teaching at Georgetown and I have tenure. Quantum Leap would mean a complete career change."

Al just shook his head, "Gooshie, Gooshie, Gooshie, what does being safe get you in life? You want to fly, then you got to trust your wings."

"Interesting, Admiral, if I understood what you meant, but I have my ticket and I'm going. I'll be back in about two weeks, just about the time you'll find out if indeed you get your funding. It's a marvelous fluke of timing, don't you think?"

Sam's bubble burst for the second time in one day. Al saw the dejection in his young friend's eyes. "Well, Gooshie, if you need two weeks, then you get them."

The programmer wiped his mouth and sat back extremely satisfied. "What a delicious dinner. This was delectable. Do we have time for dessert?"

Having a sweet tooth belying his age and rank, the Admiral knew the dessert menu at every restaurant he frequented. "Yeah and the panna cotta here is really good. So is the panforte."

"Panforte? I haven't had good panforte in ages. Let's get some."

Sam looked at them, "What's panforte?"

Gooshie barged in with a definition to the delight of the Admiral. "It's Italian for strong bread, but actually it's like chewy candy, nutty, chocolate cakey kind of thing that you get in little slices because it is so rich. It's hard to find good panforte."

"And Sam, this is good panforte."

Okay, then, panforte for all."

The dessert was sublime and all three men reveled in the meal. Gooshie sat back and said, "You know, since I'm not coming back for two weeks and you won't know about funding for two weeks, it seems like a good time for the two of you to take a vacation.

They looked at each other and said in unison, "Together?" While the two men thought of themselves as friends, they both knew they were work friends, not the kind of friends who traveled together for fun. Sam was the first to say it. "You know, I really could use the time right now. My mom and sister are visiting my cousins' place. It would be great to see them. What do you think, Al? Want to come to Indiana with me?"

Spending a week with a woman or twelve of his choice sounded like a better use of his time. The Admiral shook his head. "I don't think so. There's a brunette in Delaware with big brown eyes that I need to visit."

Gooshie was giggling like a child whose birthday party was going to be visited by Sy, the Reptile Guy. "Oh, you have to go, Admiral. When I come back, I want to see your pictures. Oh, and you'll need a car. You can use my Citroen."

Al started laughing, "A Citroen, you actually drive a Citroen?"

"It's a wonderful car, but you may be right. Dr. Beckett is taller than you and me. He might not be comfortable in it."

Now Sam laughed. "Yes, you are a bit shorter than I am, Al."

"I'd like to see you in the cockpit of the Shuttle. You'd never fit in."

Gooshie continued to smile. "A road trip is perfect. You'll get to know so much more about each other and if Quantum Leap gets funded, then you two better be as close as friends can be. Your lives will depend on it."

The little guy hit on a profound truth. They were friends, but Quantum Leap was more than a science research trial. It was going to test limits that no one could even project. Somehow Sam and Al were going to be tested through the time travel experiment and each had to know the other would go beyond all human possibilities for the other. They were already friends, but not at the depth they needed to be. Maybe the two weeks before the decision was a good thing. If they found they couldn't or didn't want to stand in death's path for the other, then they had to call the whole thing off.

The Admiral thought for a moment. "Indiana is west of here, right? But I got to tell you, we're not going in a Citroen. I'll get us a Caddie with a good sound system."

"Then we're going?"

Why he agreed didn't seem so obvious suddenly, but it might be a diverting amusement. "Sure."

Gooshie was practically jumping up and down. "This is great! We'll all be having adventures. Isn't that wonderful?"

Half an hour later they parted at the front door of Verdi's. Gooshie got into his Citroen, a tin can car with no right to be driven on American highways, yet that's where Gooshie was going, back to Georgetown to prepare for his lab the next morning.

Sam and Al had walked to the restaurant. Al liked walking in DC. The evening air was cold, but it was the kind of cold that keeps you interested in the world. They began to walk toward the SecNav's town home.

Sam was a little uncomfortable at parties where he didn't know people and was a bit anxious. "Al, I won't know a single soul there."

"So you'll meet them. Listen, kid, if you want to keep getting funding for your projects, you have to learn how to deal with the fed heads. You have to get them on your side and it's hard not to be on the side of someone you party with. Just don't embarrass yourself." He took a drag on his cigar, "Or me."

"Yeah, well, same to you."

Al laughed out loud, "At the SecNav's? Not likely. This is a rowdy bunch. Let me give you a run-down of who might be there. Remember names, like you have any trouble with that. They like it when you use their names."

The remainder of the half hour walk was filled with a who's who. The most important people for Sam to talk to were Secretary of the Navy Hunter Davis and Senator Abby Cassidy. "Make sure you see her. She's an up and comer. Doesn't hurt that she's cute, too."

"Is sex all you think about?"

"Usually." He smiled and continued, "Hey, Abby is cute, but she's also smart, ambitious in a good way and she's one of the few people you'll meet tonight that can talk physics. I've had many a nice conversation with her."

"I'm sure."

Al was almost offended, almost, "Hey, I never sleep with someone who's funding a project I'm working on. It's bad politics." He laughed again, obviously ready to have some fun.

Sam wanted to know one more thing. "Are we really going to go on a road trip?"

"You serious?"

"Well, yes. I'd like to go to Indiana. My mom, Katie and her husband are visiting my cousins in Albion. If we have two weeks, I'd like to see them."

"Then go."

"Come with me. Gooshie is right. I think we're pretty good friends already, but Quantum Leap depends on us intimately knowing each other."

Joking with his naïve friend Al looked very stern when he asked, "How intimate?"

Sam blushed and then realized the joke. "Trust me, not that intimate." He wasn't letting Al off the hook. "Tell me now. Do we go or not?"

A drive to Indiana didn't sound like a boatload of fun, but the kid and Gooshie were right. Al had a premonition that somehow he and Sam needed to be in sync with each other on a level they hadn't reached yet. He wasn't about to admit that, though. "How far is Albion from Chi?"

"Shy?"

"Chicago. Geez, what planet did you grow up on?" They turned a corner. "There's a tailor there I like a lot. Haven't seen him in months. You give me two days in Chi and you got a deal."

"Deal." Sam was happy he would see his mother and sister again, but still downhearted. He had planned to have his funding and his Chief Programmer by now and neither happened. Talking through his disappointment wasn't going to happen soon. Davis' house loomed ahead and they made their way up the steps and inside.

Al immediately saw half a dozen people he knew. Sam felt out of place. His uneasiness wasn't lost on the Admiral. "Okay, kid, stick with me for awhile. I'll hook you up with people you can talk to without embarrassing yourself." He almost got a smile from Sam. "Hey, Sam, lighten up. It's a party. You have nothing to prove to anyone tonight. Just have fun."

Having fun was one area the genius needed to work on. His idea of fun was running multiple equations in his head to decipher a cryptograph. This talking to people and shmoozing wasn't his thing. He attached himself to the Admiral and they made their way through the room.

Al spied a uniform on a man leaning against the bar talking to Hunter Davis. "Damn, A.J.'s here. Come one." He took Sam's sleeve and pulled him through the room. "A.J., how the hell are you?" Al slapped the tall man on the back. "You still playing lawyer?"

Captain A.J. Chegwidden looked down at the little Admiral with a huge smile on his kind face. "Yeah, you getting another divorce?"

Al laughed, "Low blow, Captain. Careful, I outrank you."

"Which is something I will never figure out." Obviously these two men had history and it was a good one. "So, what are you doing in DC? You being court-martialed?"

"Cute. No, I'm trolling for money."

"One of your better skills. What's the project?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, but . . ." he pulled Sam into the conversation, "This is the brain behind it. Sam Beckett, Nobel Prize winning physicist, meet A.J. Chegwidden, the worst SEAL to make it out of Vietnam alive."

The Captain laughed out loud, "Hey, I pulled your ass out of there." He held out his hand to Sam. "Good to meet you, Sam. You really win a Nobel Prize?"

Sam blushed, "Well, it was a weak year."

Suddenly Al remembered a connection between A.J. and Sam, "Hey, you both are musicians! Sam here plays piano, guitar, sings and stuff." Looking at Chegwidden he said, "You used to play horn, real sweet too."

Trying to join the conversation Sam asked, "Where did you meet?"

"First time we met was at Annapolis. Al was recruiting pilots and I thought that might be a way to go. I turned him down, but he took a lonely plebe under his wing and showed him the ropes. I learned more about Annapolis than any man needs to know, but it was a hell of a good time." The rest of the story was a tale Al didn't need to hear, but A.J. wasn't aware of it. Chegwidden freely said, "We met again when our SEAL unit went in to bring some of our guys home." He sneered at the memory. "Ones the VC told us weren't there. Al and a few others were held by some real gems deep in the jungle and it took a bit of work to find them and bring them out."

Al didn't reminisce about Vietnam with anyone and it seemed to him that too much information had already been given out. "That's old news. We met. We're friends. No need to get into it." Another old friend appeared across the room and he said, "Can I trust the two of you not to trade stories about me?" He asked the bartender for a snifter of Drambuie.

A.J. and Sam looked at each other and laughed. The scientist said, "Maybe, maybe not. Think of it like Schrödinger's Cat."

The reference to one of the great theories in physics was not in A.J.'s realm of understanding. Smiling at what was going to be an interesting conversation Al told Sam, "Now you get to explain Schrödinger to an attorney. Good luck." He picked up his aperitif and went on his way.

The pit of Sam's stomach emptied into a cavernous hole. Small talk with one of Al's friends at a party where he knew virtually no one - he was supremely uncomfortable. A.J. sensed Sam's situation. "Al's in good form tonight."

"Is he ever not in good form?"

"He's had bad days. I've seen them."

"Come to think of it, so have I."

"I'm not sure we're talking about the same thing." A.J. ordered another scotch and soda.

"You mean Vietnam?"

"I got to keep my mouth shut. Al doesn't like people knowing about his time there. I shouldn't have brought it up." A.J. took his drink and said, "Okay, who is Schrödinger and why is his cat important?"

So Sam and A.J. discussed the finer points of an entity that can simultaneously be both alive and dead. It was a child's theory to Sam. For an attorney, it was as complex as rocket science. For that they needed Al's input. After all, he really was a rocket scientist, but the Admiral was too busy flirting and having a fine time.

The night continued for several hours. Sam made the rounds sometimes with Al, sometimes with A.J., sometimes alone which is how he ended up. Alone and at the piano, he softly played sad song after sad song. Al kept looking up and he saw Sam deep into his own head and not even knowing people were talking to him. A.J. and Al were telling Annapolis stories to Abby Cassidy. She turned an ear to Sam's noodling. "He's good, but he only plays those depressing tunes."

Handing his club soda to A.J. he said, "Sam Beckett can play anything. I'll prove it." Al walked across the room which had thinned out a bit since they arrived. His last few steps were quick and he jumped up onto the piano, his feet dangling over the side. Sam startled. "Okay, Sam, give me a C." Sam didn't move. "A C, Sam, give me a C." A single finger hit a single note. Leaning over to see the keyboard Al told his friend, "Better make that an A flat." The lower note was hit. "That's it." Then in full, not-so-good voice Al started in, "Next time you're found, with your chin on the ground, there a lot to be learned, so look around. Just what makes that little old ant Think he'll move that rubber tree plant?" He gestured to Sam, "Play, kid."

Sam's hands joined in the song with Al and an entire room turned its head. "Anyone knows an ant, can't Move a rubber tree plant, but he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes. He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes." Looking at Sam he cajoled, "Sing, boy. We need some life here!"

Two voices continued on. "So any time your gettin' low 'stead of lettin' go Just remember that ant." The Admiral threw both hands toward Sam. "Take it!"

Sam soloed, "Oops, there goes another rubber tree. . ."

Al picked it up. "Oops, there goes another rubber tree. . ."

And together they finished with, "Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!"

The applause and appreciative laughter spurred on the duo and they became the evening's entertainment. Pretty soon, the SecNav's town home was a two-bit bar with request after request being thrown at them. Al snapped his fingers in regret. "Damn it, kid, we should have put out a tip jar."

When they finally got back to the hotel, it was past three in the morning. Sam was giddy more from fun than alcohol. "That was a great party."

"Told you you'd have fun. Get some sleep. I guess we have some driving to do tomorrow."

Sam yawned. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Goodnight, Al."

Going into his room Al smiled and told his friend, "Goodnight, kid."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you.