Date: Wed, 9 Jun 93 18:30:44 MDT From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (This space for rent) Message-Id: <9306100030.AA00722@banshee.vla.nrao.edu> To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: Future Perfect -- Part 10 (The End) Future Perfect Part X "...After a successful mission, when you've pulled your ass and all history as you know it outta the fire once again, it's time for a tall, cold Romulan Ale..." Any Paratemp agent, anywhere, anywhen... Temporal Index: August 26, 1023 Spatial Co-ordernates: 3 degrees West, 56 degrees 30 minutes North, Terra (Scone, north of Perth, Scotland) Sam was surprised at how fast MacBeth had moved. He was still slightly affected from the near brush with hypothermia that he suffered, but the drugs that Thom gave him was fighting off the worse affects. MacBeth did not waste any time after Thom had shown him the old coin. Sam could only wonder at what had transpired. He was still too sick the first day to do much more than just lay around by a nice, warm peat fire and eat oatmeal. Apparently Thom took over as chancellor, and by the end of the day MacBeth had been voted in, unanamously, as the next High King of Scots. Al reported that the broach was sealing up nicely, retracting at just slighly over a year an hour. Being ill gave Sam a chance to catch up with Al about the little things, since he had a fever, he felt that he was allowed to 'ramble,' even when being attended by a brother. Sam, still ill, was loaded onto a longboat, apparently Thorfinn's own. He was followed by Thom and MacBeth. Sam had never really spoken to the man, which he supposed was a good thing. Sam was startled when Mac Beth knelt before him. "Bless me, Father." MacBeth asked. Sam spoke a phrase in Latin, making the sign of the cross. It seemed to make MacBeth happy. Sam asked Thom later what that was about. "Duncan was MacBeth's cousin. Though he killed Duncan in a fair combat, the death weighted heavily on him. You gave MacBeth absolution." Thom looked out at the passing coastline, hearing the crying of seagulls in the air, following the wake of the speeding longboats. "Everything is going fine." "Then why haven't I leaped?" Thom pulled out his tricorder, shielding it from the Norsemen. "Broach mechanics are complex at best, Dr. Beckett. They expand rapidly. When sealed, they close logarithimically. Slow, then increasing in speed. I'm beginning to scan a quantum coronal charge about you, but nothing near levels needed for a leap. Be patient. You have one more thing to do, it seems." "What?" "Crown MacBeth." Thorfinn had to beach his longboats at the Nor'Inch of Perth, the water of the Tay being too shallow to go much further. Runners had gone ahead from Perth to warn the people in Scone of MacBeth's arrival. MacBeth had made his way from the small chapel at the site of Scone, to the equally small carved stone throne. Sam had inspected it closely, earlier, noticing the carved knotwork that seemed to draw one's eye. "The Stone of Scone," Thom said. Sam looked up. Thom was flanked by two people, a man and a woman. They both had pale blonde hair, eyes the color of the ocean, and identical features. "Friends of yours?" "Alex, Alexi, may I present to you Dr. Sam Beckett." *** Dr Beckett *** Twin voices, like echoing whispers, made their way through Sam's consciousness. His eyes grew wide. "Telepaths?" Sam lowered his voice. Alex and Alexi nodded in unison. "Their primary means of communication, though they can speak if they have too, they prefer not too." Thom took Sam's arm. "Come, it's almost time." "Why outside?" Sam asked, looking at the surrounding trees. In the distance he could see the wide river Tay, the color of slate against the lush greenery. "Celtic custom. MacBeth will be the last Celtic king of Scotland, elected and annointed in the old way. You are taking the place of the Earl of Buchan, whose duty it is to place the crown on MacBeth's head. The Earl fled to Siward in Northumbria." "Sounds like you'd like to take matters in you own hand." Thom shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter, now. The broach will be sealed soon, the abbot back, and our duty will be finished." "Duty." Sam repeated. Soon he would leap. "I'm so tired, Tom." "I know, Dr. Beckett." Thom opened up a small box. "Here's the crown. I think you, or the abbot, will know what to say. Legend has it that the Stone is supposed to shriek under a rightful king." Thom had a twinkle in his eye. "Well, we will make that stone cry out." The imaging room door opened and Al stepped through, taking a second glance at the twins. "Hi, Al." Sam smiled. "Sam. Sara left. She said that her mission was done." Al looked at Thom. "You're still here?" "Yes, Admiral. Until the abbot returns and a false memory can be implanted, then I will also leave. We," Thom motioned to the twins, "have to be sure that everything is ok." The sennachie finished intoning the heritage of MacBeth, from MacBeth's father back through to Adam. Thom nodded. "It's time, Dr. Beckett." Sam walked the short distance from the chapel to the stone throne. Mac Beth sat there, still dressed in the simple saffron liene. A huge banner of a boar's head moved slightly in a gentle breeze. Sam walked behind MacBeth, aware of the closeness of Thorfinn. He looked out at the assembled crowd, mostly common people from the village of Scone and the town of Perth. The moarmers were present, along with their followers. Ever present, also, were Thorfinn's Norsemen. Standing beside MacBeth was a small woman with hair the color of night. She, too, wore simple clothing and no jewelry. She was pretty, Sam thought, in a plain way. No beauty, but strong. *** She is Grouch, MacBeth's wife *** One of the telepaths said. *** Together they will have four children, but none will ever rule Scotland *** Sam placed the simple crown on the head of MacBeth. He closed his eyes, waiting to leap. Instead, he spoke. "By the power invested in me from God Almighty, Creator and Savior of Us All, I do proclaim you MacBeth, King of Scots..." Sam 'heard' a wailing sound that grew in strength. It was the telepaths, part of him knew. A baser part of him, though, wanted to drop to his knees. The wail grew into a harmonic cresendo, a complex, formless tune of pure sound that washed over them. It past as quickly as it came, leaving the people weak and stunned. *** Von Brunner's 'Fingal's Cave' with interactive acoustics *** Sam heard. *** We were there, too. *** Sam, Al, and Thom stood on the bank of the river Tay. Behind them, several dozen yards distant, Thorfinn was holding a party for the coronation of MacBeth. Alex and Alexi stood watch, silently warning people away. Though they were sheltered by a thick grove of trees and plants, it was close to sunset, and there was the chance that someone could see Sam leap out. "How soon?" Thom glanced at his tricorder. "Any minute now. The broach is now closing in at speeds in excess of ten years a minute. The quantum coronal charge within you has built up to a level where you can leap, though as soon as the broach closes the energy release, centered on you, will be enough to bounce you back to within your own timeframe." Sam looked out at the swiftly flowing river. "Will I see you again? And if so, how will I recognize you?" *** Thom, don't *** Came the warning, too late. Thom shrugged his shoulders and turned off the holonet. Sam and Al saw a man, about Sam's height. He was wearing a uniform. Black boots and black pants with greyish-silver piping. He wore a jacket, also of the greyish-silver coloration. Black trim around the collar, and a gold infinity symbol tab on the collar. "You asked me my name, it's Thomas. I told you about my grandfather. Well, my father, a Commadore in Starfleet, has a very...warped...sense of humor. He named me Thomas, not for a saint, but for another famous Thomas in a play. Henry II." Sam thought. "'Would someone rid me of this troublesome priest.' -- Thomas a Beckett, Archbishop of Cantabury. But..." Thom turned to face Sam. It was not exactly Sam's face, but there was enough similiarity there. "My full name and rank is Thomas Samuel Beckett, Commander, Paratemp Corps." "Sam! He's you!" Al shouted. Thom smiled, just the way Sam did. "No, Admiral, though I am Dr. Beckett's upmty-upmth lineal grandson." Thom looked at Sam. "Now you see why there was so much at stake, grandfather." Sam leaped. Epilog One... The temporter hummed as the figures shimmered into being. The familiar pattern of sparkles exploded with the quantum moire burst as the people shifted through time. They appeared, solid and whole. Thom looked about. Sara was at the controls of the temporter. She broke into a smile. "Welcome back, Thom. Alex, Alexi." The telepaths nodded and walked off while Sara placed her hand on Thom's arm. "This way, Commander." "Debriefing already?" "No. Debriefing for you is tomorrow...now that we have one." Sara led him out into the still desert night. "The director has said that you can go home and rest." Thom pulled off the overjacket and threw it over his shoulder. "He knows, Sara." "Somehow, I thought that he would." "I turned off the holonet. He saw me." Sara shrugged her shoulders. "Just as he leaped? His memory will 'swiss-cheese' it. In a vague way, he might remember." Thom walked over to the statue outside of the muesum. It was the statue of a man wearing a fermisuit. Light and artifical clouds billowed about the base of the statue. Thom looked up at the cold granite, framed by the brilliant stars, remembering the man. "Goodbye, grandfather." Epilog Two... Sam felt the electric shock and the icy fingers running down his spine as he leapt into another time, another place. He blinked, trying to remember... remember something. Already Iona was vanishing in his mind like a dream. Something about...Tom... Sam shook his head. He hated leaps. He looked at himself. He was dressed with a thick woolen tweed jacket with patches on the elbow. A white shirt and slacks completed his outfit. He felt something on his eyelid and brushed at it. He pulled off a clover, a four leafed clover that was wet. There was one on each of his eyelids. Even though it was night, there was an almost full moon. There was some other light too. Small motes weaving and bobbing about. "Fireflies," Sam said to himself. Then he noticed that the lights didn't flash, but were steady. They were different colors, too. White, green, blue. They weaved about in a complex pattern, a pattern that Sam had seen before, but he couldn't remember where. Sound. He heard music. Coming from a small hill. No, Sam realized, coming from _within_ the hill. He glanced at his watch. It was an old style one, with hands. Sam didn't care what it looked like, he read the time, then looked at the little window in the watch face for the date. It was a little past midnight, October 31st. "All Hallow's Eve," Sam whispered. "Oh, boy..."