Date: Wed, 9 Jun 93 11:23:40 EDT From: Tracy Finifter To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: "A New Face to Reality" Part 10 Message-Id: "A New Face to Reality" by Tracy E. Finifter Part 10 Tom woke up early the next morning in a panic. "Sam! No!" he screamed as he groped around the darkened room. Dr. Beeks, who always monitored the Waiting Room, came rushing in at the first sight of trouble. She ordered the lights on and found Tom sitting on the floor by the bed, tears streaming down his eyes. "Commander, what's wrong?" she asked cautiously. "That's not the way it happened," he mumbled, after his panic had exhausted him. "He wasn't there. Why would he be there?" Realizing that things had taken a sudden turn for the worse, Dr. Beeks tapped her wrist communicator. "Gooshie, find the admiral and get him in here now," she said with quiet urgency. "We have a problem." She walked over to Tom and sat down, putting her hands on his shoulders. He just sat there, seemingly unaware, staring at some indeterminate point in front of him. "Tom," she said gently. "Tell me what's wrong." But Tom didn't answer. He just sat, staring at the memory of his dream. They stayed like that until Al came rushing in several seconds later. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice harsh with fear. Dr. Beeks turned to answer him, and was caught off guard by seeing Al in his dress whites. Her hesitation only lasted a split second, "He had his worst flashback yet. He was shouting something about Sam, and then said that it wasn't the way it happened." "Sam..." Al's face was a mask of panic. He ran out of the Waiting Room into the Control Room. "Gooshie! Get the Imaging Chamber online now!" "Yes, Admiral," Gooshie replied and immediately began activating the necessary controls. Ten seconds later, which was ten seconds too long for Al's taste, Gooshie announced the Imaging Chamber ready. Al grabbed a handlink and ran into the Imaging Chamber and into a dark room. "Sam? Sam, where are you? Are you okay?" Al found his voice competing with similar questions from Sandy. He followed her voice to the floor in front of the bed where he found her trying to console Sam. He was rolled up in a ball with tears also streaming down his face. The hologram bent down in front of Sam and looked for any sign of acknowledgement. "Sam, are you all right? Tom woke up in a panic, what happened?" "Tom?" Sam asked, breaking out of his fear-induced trance. "What happened to Tom?" "What are you talking about, Tom? Who are you talking to?" Sandy was beginning to cry. "He had a flashback too. Beeks said it was the worst yet." "Go to him, Al," Sam said through the tears. His voice was shaking and his knuckles were white from his grip on the bedpost. The flashback had been more disturbing than anything than he had ever experienced before, more terrifying than anything he had ever experienced in his life. But all his concerns were with his brother, nineteen years in the future. "Help him." "Tom, who are you talking to? What are you talking about?" Sandy's voice was still growing with panic. Al was about to protest, but thought better of it when he looked in his friend's eyes. He reluctantly agreed. "Okay, Sam," he said quietly as he summoned the door and left. He walked briskly back to the Waiting Room, ignoring the puzzled looks from the project staff who were not used to him wearing his uniform nor were they comfortable when the admiral seemed as uptight as he did. Al took a deep breath as he stepped back into the Waiting Room. He saw Tom with his head on Beeks' shoulder. He seemed more coherent than when Al had left, but still somewhat dazed. "Admiral, Sir..." he began when he noticed Al standing near him. "I, I..." He seemed to want desperately to say something, but either couldn't or was unsure exactly what. Al bent down closer to Tom and looked him straight in the eye. Gone from Tom's expression was all the toughness, all the hostility he had when he had leapt in. There was something vulnerable about him, as if he had suddenly become a lost child. "I understand," he said quietly. "You're among friends who want to help you." This produced little reaction from Tom, who merely slumped his shoulders. Al was frustrated. What did Sam expect him to do? Unless Tom opened up, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to ease Tom's pain. After a few long seconds, Tom started speaking in a voice that was almost too quiet to hear. "I saw my brother. He was with me in Vietnam on that mission." He turned to Al, the tears still streaming down his face. "But that's impossible. He wasn't there!" Al took Tom by the shoulders, hoping desperately to be able to comfort Sam's brother. "Tell me what happened." Tom looked down, staring into nothing. "It was the chu-hoy. She... she killed my brother Sam." Oh, God, Al thought. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be happening at all. He drew Tom closer. "No, Tom. She didn't kill Sam. It was just a dream. It wasn't real." Al hoped that his words were making it through to the distraught man, but he doubted they were. "What's happening to me?" Tom demanded, more from God than from Al. Al looked to Verbena with a silent cry for help in his eyes. Verbena, too, was at a loss. None of her years of training had ever prepared her for this moment. The problems were too close to home for any of them, and she found her objectivity disappear as she looked into Sam's tear-stained face. "You stay here with Tom," Al said. "I'm going back to..." he stopped himself just in time from saying "to Sam." "Back to the Imaging Chamber." Verbena nodded and Al headed off. A single lamp had been lit in Tom's bedroom in 1980, and Al noted with relief that Sam was up, about, and reasonably coherent. That was not to say that things looked okay. In fact, they were quite the opposite. Al grimaced as he listened in on Sam and Sandy's conversation. "I can't take this anymore, Tom! I can't go to sleep every night wondering if you're going to wake up screaming! It's been happening more and more and it's not going to end itself! If you won't get help, what do you expect me to do?" "I don't know," Sam answered, heartbroken. He gave a glance at Al before lowering his head. "I don't know how to help... me, or you." Al wondered if the 'me' had meant Tom or Sam. Sam gave another frustrated look towards his sister-in-law, the frustration lying with himself. "I just don't know what to do anymore." He stormed out of the bedroom and downstairs. Al sighed, and joined him with a touch of a handlink button. The downstairs was still dark when Al 'arrived', save for the first bits of morning light that came in through one window. "Sam?" he called out, searching for his friend in the darkness. "Here, Al." A light went on in the kitchen. Al walked over to join him. "What's with the dress-whites?" "What?" Sam's question had caught the hologram totally off-guard. He recovered his surprise and stole a quick glance at his attire. It wasn't for Sam's benefit that he had chosen to wear his uniform, but he didn't realize that Sam might be put off by it. "Listen, Sam. This is no time to be talking about my wardrobe." Sam gave a slight shrug. "It was terrible, Al," he started, his voice measured, even, and disturbingly quiet. Al stood silently, offering his support to Sam as he had so many times before, but unable to lay a simple hand upon a needing shoulder. "I was frozen. I couldn't do anything: move, yell, nothing. I just let her shoot. I just let her shoot my brother." Sam's voice trailed off into the darkness. Al took a deep breath, searching for the right words. There were none. "Sam..." "No, Al, I know." Sam interrupted. "It was just a dream. But still..." "It seemed so real?" Al ventured. He hated being so forward, but he knew the only way for Sam to come to terms with his flashbacks was to deal with them directly. This he knew from experience. "Yeah," Sam whispered. He looked up, his mind switching gears. "How's Tom? What's happening with him?" "He's fine, Sam. He was really shaken up, but Dr. Beeks is with him now and she's taking good care of him." "How did you know when I was having the flashback and to come in right then?" Al sighed. His theory, as much as he disliked it, had been proven true. "It seems that you and Tom are linked somehow and when one of you has a flashback, so does the other." "I see. Do you know what I'm here to do?" Sam asked, his face still tear-stained but his eyes now dry and dark. "No." Al lied. Ziggy knew, or at least had a pretty good idea, of what had to be done, but since it wasn't Sam who had to do it, there was no point in telling him. Sam's shoulders slumped. "Please find out," he pleaded quietly. "I don't want to be here anymore." "Okay, Sam," Al said. He punched the command to summon the Imaging Chamber door. "I'll be back soon." Sam nodded slightly and as Al left, he stood there watching the sunrise. * Tracy Finifter | "Life is what happens to you while * * finifter@gandalf.rutgers.edu | your busy making other plans." * * Douglass College, Rutgers University | - John Lennon *