From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: No Escape From Reality Part 5
Date: 27 Mar 1993 16:54:32 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Lines: 179
Message-Id: <1p20s8$g5m@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu


Part 5

"All right, Mr. Data," Picard said, steadily gazing at his science officer
across the conference table.  "You did a check on our guest?"

"Yes, of course, Captain."  He glanced from his tricorder to his commander.
"I checked all Earth records for references to Dr. Beckett.  He was born in
Earth year, 1953, son of John and Thelma Beckett, a child prodigy.  At age
two..."

"I'm more interested in his later history, Data."  Picard missed the input
from his First Officer.  Riker was currently on leave for another nine days.
"You said there was no mention of time travel."

"There were some indications that he was working on a theory for time
exploration while attending Massachusets Institute of Technology, but none
after that.  Most of the information I assimilated had to do with his work
with hybrid computers.  Even now, on outlying bases, where there is  little
human contact, "Zigs' are used, for companionship where there is none to
be had.  A computerized 'friend' as it were.  I believe the term 'Zigs' are
a reference to Dr. Beckett's own computer creation, Ziggy."

"You mean the 'human' computers that do everything including insult you?"
The Captain grimaced.  "You either love them or hate them.


"Some of the Enterprises personality, computer-wise, is a branch of the
Zigs.  The first components were developed by Dr. Beckett.  Also, his
reference to 'Al'.  I believe he was referring to Admiral Albert Calavicci,
his partner through most of his professional life.  They jointly received
a Nobel Prize in 1994 for pioneer work in holography.  The roots of our
own holodeck were created by Admiral Calavicci and a Dr. Kevin Drayton;
the Admiral also had a doctorate in physics and engineering."

The Captain frowned, questions still clouding his mind.  "Where does time
travel come into play here?  You tell of holography and computers, but no
time machine?"

"Sir, there was no reference to any experiments in time travel, not past
his theory in college.  I'm sorry."  Data sighed, feeling it was a personal
fault on his part that he could not find the information his commander 
desired.

"What information did you find on his later life?"

"Most interesting, Captain."  Data folded his hands in front of himself on
the polished table.  "The records indicate that Dr. Beckett disappeared in
1995, never to be heard from again.  Questions were asked, mostly by his
family, but his time on Earth, as we know it, ended there."

"So."  Brow furrowing, Picard leaned back in his chair, talking in the newest
bit of information.  "He's appeared here, and we must, somehow, find a way
to send him home."

"Thereupon posing a problem, Captain."  Data's tone turned serious. "We
could send him back through the Guardian, to his own time.  Unfortunately..."

The door opened and Dr. Crusher entered, smoothly taking her place at the
table.  "Dr. Beckett has lost part of his memory, and is now suffering from
some kind of neural damage.  I've done tests, and it seems, the pain he's
feeling is caused by the quantum energy, and something else I can't fathom.
I gave him some pain medication and he's much calmer, but very upset.  He
has trouble remembering the simplest of information about himself.  Possibly
he's going through an identity crisis, being brought here under such adverse
conditions, but it doesn't seem so."

"He's not a clever liar, then," Picard said, eyes narrowing.

"Captain, he's not lying. The monitors would show that, and they are reading
normal.  I asked where he lived, when he left.  He could only give me a year,
and the state he was living in, then, New Mexico.  Other than that..." She
shrugged.

"And," Data added.  "Who's to say that he's to return in 1995?  Maybe he
was destined to return later, years from then.  We could alter history if
we send him back at the wrong time.  It's a perplexing problem, Captain,
and one I'm afraid we may not be able to solve."

"Is he the reason for the time displacement?  Could his experiment have 
altered space itslef, causing the rifts, and disruption?"

"I won't know that, Captain," Data replied.  "Not until I take all factors
under consideration and obtain more details from Dr. Beckett about the actual
time machine itself."

The Captain leaned forward, eyes meeting Beverly's.  "Can he adjust to our
time?"

"He's brilliant, Jean Luc."  The doctor looked confident.  "I'm certain that
he could not only adjust, but contribute.  What I'm most concerned about 
is his depression.  I left Councilor Troi with him so I could participate
in this discussion.  He's homesick, and from what I can gather, he's not
been 'home' in a long, long, time.  Whatever he's been doing, his entire
focus seems to be riveted on one thing; that someday he'll be able to
return."

*********************

Sam eyed the attractive, dark haired woman that sat quietly at his bedside.
Her soft, doe-like gaze unsettled him.

"My name is Deanna Troi, Ships Counselor.  I can sense that you are very
sad, and I want to help you."

"How can you 'sense' anything," Sam snapped, rolling away from her gaze.  "You
have no idea what I'm feeling."

"I do, Dr. Beckett."  She folded her hands in her lap, feeling the anger from
the man mixing with the depression.  "I'm not from Earth.  My race is BetaZed,
and we are empathic, able to feel emotions from others as if they were our own.
I sense loss from you, someone quite close, that you long to see."

His mind tried it's best to fill with the new information.  Another planet,
another race.  It seemed, not only was the Earth at peace, but so was the rest 
of the Solar System, or Galaxy--certainly that husky security chief was
from another planet, as well.  Deanna Troi didn't seem threatening, or as
if she was out to rip his mind open, like the doctors at Havenwell.  That's
what he must be to these people; an antiquity, old-fashioned and fascinating.
"I just want to go home," he said softly.  It was the truth, and all he 
felt like telling yet another stranger.

"You can trust us, Sam."  She smiled at the uneasy look the man gave her.
"Maybe not now, but soon.  Who do you miss so much?"

"Al."  The name left his mouth before he could think about it, almost as if
she'd willed it from him.  "My friend," he continued, turning onto his back.
"We haven't seen each other for a while now."

"I sense that you have a dependency on him, Sam. You have difficulty focusing
without his presence.  That must put a great deal of stress on him."

"What the hell do you know about it?"  Sam bristled, sitting up in the bed.
"He's always there for me, and I need him to do...what I have to do."

"And what do you feel you have to do, Sam?"

Her patronizing, or what seemed that way, tone was bridling Sam's nerves.
"I don't know, damn it," he snapped. "Whatever is needed, I guess."  His 
eyes spat green flame.  "And what do you need to do?  Are you some kind of
psychiatrist?"  His memory recalled another therapist like this one,
asking soothing questions, a fan turning above him, drawing out another's
personality.  Since then, he'd not trusted or like the type, with the 
exception of his few warm memories of Verbena Beeks.  She'd never tried to
psychoanalyze him, or try to turn his mind inside out.

"I'm the ships coucelor, Sam.  I hold many degrees, but usually I just talk,
and try to draw the pain from others.  You are so sad, and scared.  Dr.
Crusher thought that maybe I could help you adjust to this new situation."


"I've spent the past few years adjusting quite nicely to new situations,
and I don't need you or anyone else trying to soothe me."  He sighed.  "I'm
sorry if I sound less than myself, but I'm just a little...messed up right
now.  As far as being dependent on anyone, I don't need that thrown in my
face.  The very things that are dearest to me are three hundred years in the
past.  It doesn't look like I'll be able to return and as far as adjusting
to this, it's going to take more than your abilities."  He shut his eyes,
his mouth tightening.  "I'd rather talk tothe android--Data.  He's the 
only one here who doesn't treat me like a test subject--or a liar."

"You think that's the way I'm treating you?  Of course, not.  I'm just
quite concerned.  No, I don't know you very well, but just by talking
to me you might feel better."

A tear slowly fell down Sam's face, dripping down on the Fermi suit he
wore.  He swallowed, not attempting to wipe the wetness away.  He could
feel himself building to a real emotional outburst and he didn't want this
woman to see it.  "Just go away," he managed, turning away from her.

Deanna's soul cried out for the lonely man, wishing she could do more,
but finding the door to his emotions close firmly against her.  She stood
and left the room, giving Sam his privacy and hoping that later he'd want
to give her some of his grief.

-- 
"Girls who have glasses have lots & lots of energy!" Al--Single Drop of Rain
Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu--Assistant Sysop
The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI