From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: No Escape From Reality Part 9
Date: 4 Apr 1993 21:22:55 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Lines: 120
Message-Id: <1pnjjf$brv@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu


Part 9

Using the sonic shower was another new experience Sam hadn't expected.
Of course, it was practical, considering how difficult it would be to
carry enough water to bathe the amount of people he guessed was on the 
ship.  His journey to his new quarters had been carefully monitored, 
security outside his door, not allowing him more than a minor peek at
what seemed more interesting parts of the ship.  Adding to his apprehension
was the periodic jolts that the Enterprise was taking, sudden bumps.
With each one came the headache bursts again, but he avoided telling 
Crusher of them.  The Captain had explained about the turbulent disturbance
that surrounded the planet and it's effect on their smooth course.  
Scientific curiousity was getting the better of his depression, forcing
him to think past the darkness that clouded his mind.  Here he was, in 
the 24th Century, with all this new technology to investigate and he
was cooped up in a suite of rooms, expected to stay put until further
notice.

The outfit they gave him was much like the uniforms the others wore,
except his communicator didn't seem to work.  He decided it was no more
than a tracking device and he couldn't detach it from the strange material.

It was soft, yet crisp, and quite comfortable.  Not quite as snug as
the fermisuit, which he had folded and tucked carefully in the dresser.
There was a small monitor on the table in the central room, and a port,
or screen that showed some kind of holographic display.  This wasn't Captain
Galaxy; certainly it wasn't a 'window'.  The scene beyond the port he
watched with wonder, planets and stars, differenet constellations, some he
didn't recognize or remember.  Holography he mused, or video of some kind.
His shoulders sagged as he gazed at the pretty picture, realizing, with
finality, how far he was from home.

The door chimed, and Sam frowned as it opened automatically.  Apparently,
his privacy wasn't a priority.  He turned to greet his guest with a touch
of ire.  Captain Picard was not big on his list of people he could allow
himself to trust, not yet.  "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"It took some doing, but we found the information on your Project.  Someone
took great pains to protect you, and your work.  Most of the details are
missing, but not the facts.  There were only fragments, and bits of
paperwork, but more than you can expect after six hundred years.  It was 
enough to convince me that you are no liar.  Data told me some of what you
said, but felt uncomfortable giving up confidences. I don't expect you to
immediately speak to me of what you've gone through, but it may help me
to understand more of how you came to be here.  Be assured, I want
what you want."

"What can I do? You have me in here, secured, and held."  Sam shivered,
even though the room was perfectly warm. "If I could work with Data,
maybe I could find something he can't.  You understand my abilities.

"I'm not sure about that Dr. Beckett." Picard returned to the door, 
hesitating as it opened.  "I'll take your assistance under consideration.
The monitor is programmed to give you simple shipboard information.  If
you require anything, inform security.  This is for your own protection.
You must understand," he added, a touch of sympathy in his voice.  "If 
we managed to send you home you must know as little of our time as possible."

As the door slipped shut,  Sam accepted the explanation of his confinement
rationally, then went to the computer.  Data had given him simple instructions
on how to voice activate the instrument.  What did you say to a 24th Century
computer?  Did it have a name?

"Computer..." he began.

MAY I ASSIST YOU, DR. BECKETT?  WHAT DO YOU REQUIRE?

The voice wasn't Ziggy's, perhaps more human, but not by much.  Definetly
female, with a peculiar warmth.  What he wanted was a keyboard or something
more his style than just speaking at a monitor.  He felt distanced and
unweildly.  "I'm not sure how to work this device--uh, You.  Is it possible
for me to have a keyboard of some kind to use to communicate?"

ARCHAIC, BUT I CAN ASSIST. The front of the desk neatly materialized 
into a standard laptop of 20th century design.  I CAN GIVE YOU THIS,
ALTHOUGH IT IS UNSOPHISTICATED.

"I'll learn the new ways soon enough," Sam said, meaning it.  Cracking 
his knuckles, he didn't care what the computer thought of his use of the
old keyboard.  He had access and he'd manage, somehow, to get the information
that he needed.  A smile touched his face for the first time since his
arrival, his hands playing across the keys.  They had no idea what he
was capable of; a secured computer was his playground.


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

The security guards on the planet were making their checks, more frequent
since the unexpected vistor.  Since Beckett's arrival, the Guardian was
completely quiet, never coming into being unless directly asked.  Therefore,
it was more than a surprise to the security personnell to hear the Voice,
without motivation, speak.

THE OBSERVER HAS ARRIVED.

Once again, a stranger flopped out of the oval, landing on his feet like
a cat.  He straightened, dark eyes slowly travelling from feet, to knees,
to, finally, the scowling visage of Worf, Chief of Security, temporarily
in charge of security on the planet's surface.

Without losing a beat, Al pulled a cigar from his slightly singed jacket,
burned by the Accelerator and his journey.  "Take me to your Leader," he
quipped, attempting a cocky pose in the face of the baffled security
personnell.

As the other security guards held their phasers on Al, Worf called up to
the Enterprise.  "Captain," he said, his eyes not leaving his prisoner
for a moment.  "We have another problem."  His eyes raked the smaller man,
lip curling at the outright arrogance that oozed from him.

Al glanced around at the impassive security men surrounding him.  "Any
of you guys got a light?" he asked, waving his frayed cigar.


More to come...
-- 
"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