Date: Mon, 31 May 93 03:59:30 MDT From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (Bill'n'Opus'96) Message-Id: <9305310959.AA01390@banshee.vla.nrao.edu> To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: REPOST -- Future Perfect -- Part 6 Oops. I made a mistake! That's what I get for not proofreading! The year than Sam is in is 1023, not 1033. I also corrected a couple of inconsistancies. Sorry! Future Perfect Part VI "...Genengineered: a slang, but acceptable, term refering to those individuals who are genetically engineered to conform to a specific task or tasks. Most genengineered are enhanced..." Glossary of Paratemp Terminology, Third Edition (Internal Use Only) Temporal Index: September 19, 1999 Spatial Co-ordernates: Classified (Project Quantum Leap) Three a.m. was supposedly the best time to infiltrate an installation. Between three a.m. and five a.m., the human body would tend to shut down, even if one was wide awake. Reaction time was slower, and this was when most accidents happen. Sara slipped into the control room without making a sound. There was no one about but the orb that housed Ziggy, and those lights were spinning slowly. Sara looked around, familiarizing herself. "Colonel," Ziggy spoke up. "If that is your real rank, would you mind telling me what you are doing in the control center at this hour, without an escort?" Sara flashed a quick smile in Ziggy's direction. "The rank is actually that of commander, Ziggy. And as to why I'm here, well, I think it is best if I let you explain." "I'm afraid that I don't follow your meaning." "You will in a minute." Sara walked over to the control console. Laser link interface was brand new here, but common where she came from. Sara deactivated the lockouts with a practiced ease, then looked up at Ziggy. She pressed a button and a laser beam shot into her eye. From there her biocomp took over, and as soon as it had synced with Ziggy, data was downloaded. Within a few seconds it was over. Sara terminated the laser beam and blinked her eyes. "I see." Ziggy said after nearly a minute of silence. "It is nice to know that I am still around in the 27th century." "Not only around. but very vital to Monitor." Sara removed any trace of evidence from the control console. "I will need to place the microfusion powersource at the J-37 location. Would you redirect security away from this region? It will not take me too long." "Certainly, Commander." Ziggy's lights twinkled. "I always like to keep them busy. I think this time I'll have a rabbit cross the perimeter." Sara smiled. Sounded just like Tempora... Temporal Index: August 21, 1023 Spatial Co-ordernates: 6 degrees West, 56 degrees 30 minutes North, Terra (Isle of Iona, off the coast of Mull, Scotland) Sam and Thom laid huddled together on the rough stone floor of the church. The body of Duncan rested in the front of the church, under several candles that were sputtering and cast light dimly thoughtout the small church. "Could be worse, Al could be here." Sam muttered. "He hates corpses." "Here, Dr. Beckett. You need this more than I do." Thom handed Sam the wool cloak. Sam wrapped it around him and tried to silence his chattering teeth. "Thanks. What about you?" "I'm wearing a uniform that's made of a material that adapts to external termperatures from 140 degrees to -40 degrees. I'm warm enough." "I take it that you really don't look like that?" "Correct. I'm wearing a holonet. It projects any holographic image that I select, as long as it's humanoid." "'Humanoid' -- does that mean that man has found alien life?" "Yes. A surprising number are humaniod in shape, form, thoughts, and emotions." "Isn't it dangerous for you to be telling me all this?" Thom smiled. "No. When you leap, you lose most of your short term memory. You won't be here long enough, I hope, to require a drug that I have. It will erase most of your short term memory as well, and it is far more dependable than leaping." Sam narrowed his eyes. "What if I don't let you?" "Dr. Beckett, I can easily overpower you at any time. Even Thorfinn would be no match for me." Thom closed his eyes. Sam looked at the other man, then reached out to grasp his throat, testing Thom's reflexes. Before he could get close, he felt Thom's hand clamp down on his wrist with bone crushing strength. "I rest my case, Dr. Beckett." Thom had not opened his eyes. "I have been enhanced by the best minds and technology that the 27th century can provide. In your terms, I'm a cyborg." The eyes opened up and Thom let go of Sam. Sam backed away and rubbed at his wrist. "I didn't even see you move." "Biofiber-optics for most of my voluntary nerves. Strength amplification units in most of my muscles. A polyceramic matrix around my skeletal structure. I can move faster than a normal human, I am stronger than a normal human." "Are you better than a normal human?" Thom looked pensive. "There are days, Dr. Beckett, that I would trade all my enhancements away to be normal again. My grandfather understands all too well. He, too, was a paratemp agent. One of the first." "Is he still alive?" "Yes. Human life span had gone far beyond your expectations. Unless I die in an accident, I can reasonably expect to live for another three hundred years. So, to answer your question, yes, my grandfather is still alive and kicking. He wanted me to go into the priesthood. Father, in a jest, named me for a famous saint." Sam thought for a moment. "Thomas Aquinas?" "No. No him. A different one. Anyhow, father wanted me to follow his footsteps in Starfleet. Well, I graduated from the Academy, then transfered to Temporal Monitor. Pissed 'em both off." Thom smiled at the memory. "Yup, grandpa said that there'd be days like these." "What happens if, well, if I don't do what's expected?" Thom frowned. "Then I will probably end up fighting in the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314 and dying sometime after that. You will have created an alternate and parallel timeline which I will be trapped on." Sam was silent. "Any idea what I have to do?" "Bury Duncan. Host the election of MacBeth. He will ask you to be the chancellor. Accept. I'll take care of the writing, you don't know the latin of the time. Guide the moarmers to elect MacBeth as King of Scots. As soon as that happens, then you should be out of here and I can go home." "When do I get to go home?" Sam asked. Thom hunkered down in his uniform. "Go to sleep, Dr. Beckett. Dawn will come all too soon."