From: Sean Smith X-From: rkwong@engin.umich.edu (Roberta Chi-Woon Kwong) Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: "Quanta" part 8/17 Date: 14 Apr 1995 04:19:36 GMT Message-ID: <3mkt4o$blj@srvr1.engin.umich.edu> This is being posted for Sean Smith , who is having some difficulty posting from his account. Please direct all comments to him. Apologies if any line noise remains in these posts. -------------------------------------------------- As a state run University, Davis had many facilities. Its sprawling, wooded campus was covered by an eclectic collection of building whose ages varied by nearly a hundred years. Their appearance was similarly diverse, with both architectural marvels and absolute monstrosities. Being a University also meant that it had a large student body. Thousands of people milled about, despite the horrible weather. The gusts of freezing winds, and the showers that had just begun only meant that the students milled about in the hallways ather than on the grass. It was amongst these students that Dana Scully moved. She tried to be inconspicuous as she scanned the crowd for threats. She tried to unobtrusively draw her coat over her dirty clothes. She tried to politely rebuff the fraternity brothers who invited her back to the house. She was slowly moving from building to building, making her way towards the botany department when she stopped. Smiling, she held a hand over her haid to stave off the rain as she ran into the campus bookstore. She remembered the sort of University apparal that all bookstores liked to carry, and headed back to the section hung with clothes. She found a tan flannel jacket that didnÕt look to odd once it was buttoned up, and hid her skirt. A matching tan cap with ÔUCDÕ eblazoned on it in forest green hid her hair, and shaved a decade off her age. With a few quick motions, Dana snapped the tags from the clothes, and hurried to the cashierÕs desk. Scully rustled through her bag, withdrawing her checkbook. She managed to convince the large bearded man behind the counter that he should clear her check for fourty dollars over her purchase price. She had almost passed the lockers before she came to a stop. There, next to the exit, was a wall of free, lockable storage spaces. Dana smiled as she stuffed her still wet overcoat and bag into a space at her feet. She kept the phone, and her identification, but left the rest behind. Now she fit in perfectly as she ran between buildings through the rain with the students. By the time she made it to Davies' office, she was thoroughly soaked, despite her jacket and cap. She ran up to the door, looking for someplace nearby where she could hide and dry off. She pulled off her cap, and shook out her wet hair. As she looked around, water dripping from her rain darkened hair, the light coming from Davies office flickered. She pressed herself up against the wall, ignoring the chill of the wet cloth against her back, and tried the doorknob. It was open. She threw the door open, and ducked into the lab. She ended up face to face with a middle aged man, much taller than she, who froze where he was. She watched him, as water dripped from her coat. He remained stooped over, a fistful of papers halfway to his briefcase. It was Scully who spoke first. "Professor Davies. IÕm Special Agent Dana Scully. My partner and I have been trying to contact you." "Ah, well, I hadn't heard about that. Please, come in." He dropped the papers into his briefcase, and shut it. Turning away, he cleared some books off a nearby chair, and then sat down on his desk. This made the large man fairly loom over her. Dana sat down, and scrutinized Davies. He was a tall, gawkish man whose hands and feet seemed too large for him to use well. He wore a thick workshirt over a fire engine red undershirt. His denim jeans looked worn, and his hiking boots were wet. His face and eyes were bland and forgettable, and his blonde hair dulled. All in all, he looked less like a doctor than a gardener. And despite his size, he seemed somehow afraid of her. "Doctor, do you have anything to tell us about the loss of your facilities?" Usually it was Mulder who played hunches, but she was excellent at reading people. Not as though he seemed hard to read. "No, no, not at all. I hope you can tell me soon if it was vandalism or not. I do need to get on with my work, you know?" He He scratched the back of his neck, and it seemed he did not know where to put his outsized hands. "We already have a number of leads on this case, Doctor Holland. I wanted to know if _you_ had anything to add." Her light blue eyes never let go of his brown ones. "I...well, I don't really have much to say. I already talked to the police, you see." He smiled blandly, but there was a slight flush around his collar. Dana smiled, without letting it reach her eyes. "Yes, I've read everything you told the police. I was wondering if you could explain it to me...again?" She blinked slowly. Holland open his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked absolutely trapped, and he knew it. But before Scully could pin him down, Sam burst through the door, the broad shoulders of his black greatcoat made darker by the water upon them. "Dana, we have to leave. Now." Sam used every ounce of desperation he had, and threw it into his voice. "Mulder..." Dana turned abruptly in her seat, her voice filled with relief and impatienence. "I've been worried about you. And I found Holland." Sam nodded vaguely at him, never looking up. He didn't even leave the entranceway, his hand holding the door open. "Hello, nice to meet you. Let's go. They can't be far behind me." He touched Dana's shoulder as he spoke. "He doesn't have anything t o do with this." The two seemed oblivious to the presence of another person in the room as the conversed. "How do you-" She was cut off mid sentence. "Don't ask me how I know. I just do. Please, we're running out of time, Dana." "The last time you said please, Mulder, our rooms were trashed." Dana took his elbow firmly and dragged him inside the office. She turned her face away from Dr. Holland, and spoke softly as he bent down to her. "He's hiding something, and so are you. Now I want one of you to talk, Mulder. Something here is very wrong." Sam looked down at Dana, a cold look on her face. She wasn't sure what to do, but she was absolutely sure she was going to get what she wanted. Sam decided to do just that. Sam took a deep breath before turning to Holland with a polite smile. "Dr. Holland, I loved reading your report. you mentioned using phenylated alkaloids as mutagens. I was just wondering, how did they manage to interact with the base pairs properly?" Sam smiled politely as he rattled this off. "Um, that's hard to explain..." Dr. Holland stood up, flushing. "I understand. But seeing as how alkaloids are wildly toxic, as well as teratogenic, how did you get the plants to survive the treatments?" Sam crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised. "Well, I used an advanced series of-" Dr. Holland spoke while looking at the ceiling. He stopped when Sam cut him off. "Amazing. Especially how you managed to get a general poison to act as a specific mutagen. Normally you'd get widespread alterations. How'd you isolate such specific loci?" "I-" Now both Davies and Dana were staring at Sam. "Doctor, just admit you stole the money. It's a lot less embarassing than putting your name on that kind of junk, and actually publishing it." "How did you get a hold of my thesis? I haven't published it yet!" The researcher was shocked, still idly rubbing his palms on his shirt. Sam realized that the paper he remembered reading hadn't been published yet. Small error. "It wasn't that difficult, Mr. Holland. So, what happened to the money the government gave you?" "I was planning on retiring. I've got a great house in Italy, now." Davies wiped his forehead. "Shouldn't have gotten into all this I suppose. Heck, nobody in my family can lie well. I suppose you're going to take me in, huh?" He extended his arms, his large hands dangling forelornly. "No. Now we have to go." Sam opened the office door, and stepped through. He gestured to an astounded Scully. "Come on. You got your wish." He closed the door on Davies, who was still frozen in place with shock. Dana faced him, searching for words. "How...? "Forget it. Its not that important." Dana looked about the hallway at that. "It's time to get out of here." "Ignoring the fact that you had an embezzeler dead to rights back there, how do you expect to get off campus?" "Come on, I've got a police cruiser in the parking lot. We can head to the nearest rental agency in it." The storm had made even the stark white academic halls darker and moodier. The sound of distant footsteps and mutted voices bounced along the halls. Scully, noticed none of this, so intently was she focused on her partner. "A police car? Very subtle." She was caught between a smile and a frown. "No one will notice it, I'm sure." "If you have any better ideas, now's the time." She followed him down the corridor, awhere he bolted through a door and out into the stinging rain. It wasn't very far to Lot 24 where he'd left the car. "Actually, I do." she replied. She smiled as she put her hands in her pockets, and darted through the door, and into the storm. * * * "No, dammit, you can't ask them to do that!" Through the towering windows of the Project windows, the setting moon lit Fox's face with blue highlights, and made his white bodysuit gleam as he moved. His strong features were set in determination, and the muscles under his smooth skin moved as he wo rked his jaw. Above him, Ziggy shimmered, as if in response to the pressure waves of his words. The Control Room itself was darker now, with no one else to hear them argue. Only Al remained, and he was locked in the imaging chamber, trying to reach Sam. "There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't ask Dr. Beckett and Dana Scully to locate these individuals. If the persons chasing Doctor Beckett are part of a similar Project, they too might be limited in number. And therefore attempting to enter their Project is a sound alternative. Perhaps stopping their work is why Dr. Beckett Leapt into you." Ziggy no longer sounded as content as a distant oracle. In fact, the computer was beginning to sound annoyed. "There's one very good reason you can't ask them to do that." Fox gestured to her as he spoke. "You'd be asking them to kill themselves." He smacked the back of one hand into the palm of his other. "I do not possess feeling of guilt, Agent Mulder. It would appear that this is the only logical alternative." "No, you're forgetting something." Fox walked to the windows, and stared out into the quiet night, one hand upon the glass to steady himself. "That is an impossibility. I am not capable of forgetting." The smug confidence was back in her voice again. "Then you're leaving something out of the equation. You told me that Dr. Beckett started his 'leaps' in March of Ninety-Five. That's _two weeks_ after the point Scully and he are at now." Fox turned to face Ziggy, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Agent Mulder, we are prohibited from tampering with our own past, and-" "Oh, just the rest of us lowly peons can be trapped here by you?" Fox still couldn't remember sections of his life, but he remembered enough for this cavalier attitude to push some buttons. "No, all of 'us peons' are fair game, handsome. But if we tamper with our own past, we risk altering our present, possibly killing our present selves." Fox hung his head. "If you went back in time and killed yourself ten years ago, how could you now go back in time to kill yourself. Paradox." He looked back up at Ziggy. "So how come none of the 'alterations' you've made in the past have indirectly al tered your life? Haven't you heard of the the chaos theory?" "Mulder, I am the only computer _capable_ of understanding chaos theory, and its ramifications. But we don't know why it doesn't effect us here." He smiled in the half darkness. 'Here's a thought for you. What if every change you've made has spread in concentric ripples of change, and you and this project...everybody here has been changed. Maybe you don't even realize the changes yet." "I thought of that. If so, there is little we can do, and no method of calculating results, therefore I don't think about it much. _I'm_ not obsessive." "But it would mean it was okay for you to go around editing your past. Get it?" Mulder shook his finger tiredly at the vast supercomputer. "Nice try, but you can't exactly convince me. This oneÕs been well thought out." Ziggy loved finding somebody who liked being up late, and whose conversation occupied at least some of her tremendous computing resources. Humans could be so interesting, sometimes. Mulder sighed, and went back to looking out the window into the darkness of the desert. For his part, he was far less thrilled about the conversation. Once again, the ability to change things, to get it all done _right_ was just outside his grasp. He realized that no one in the Project knew anything about his past save what he told them, or what Scully said to Sam. He was free to do and be who or whatever he wanted. But what he wanted was outside the rules...again. Then a singular thought occurred to him. "Ziggy," he turned around slowly, "There's almost no chance of Sam leaping soon, is there?" "One-point-one percent. And you're planning something." Damn, he thought, she's almost as good as Scully at that. "Yes. Your calculations would be better off if you had all the files to work with, right?" "Yes. And you wish to leave the project in an attempt to retrieve them. Absolutely not. You cannot be exposed to the future environment. The effect could be catastrophic." "I'll forget it all if Sam leaps out and I leap back. No big deal." "You are forgetting the neural trauma you have experienced. Further activity could worsen your stress levels. And the carbamaperazine Doctor Beeks has proscribed for you is slowing you down 9.2 percent." He spoke as he sat down on the floor. "Do you think that being trapped in here, useless, is helping my stress levels any?" "You are needed to provide information as we proceed." "I could get more if I could leave. I have ways-" "Had. In this timeline, you are presently deceased." Fox rubbed his face with his hands. Ziggy spoke up, "Your heart rate increased, and I do not believe it was because you thought about your own mortality." Fox wished he could hold someone just then. "No, it wasn't. But I can convince you to let me go.Ó * * * Dana Scully watched as the green rolling hills of the valley slid by the police car's windshield. She'd been driving for more than an hour, trying to get them both to San Francisco. She reasoned that a police car would be harder to track out on the open road. One of her brothers had moved out to San Francisco with his wife, and she was heading there for help. The call she made earlier was to them, and right about now he ought to be renting a car for her. She looked over at the unusually pensive look on her partner's face. Sam could see the troubled look on Dana's face, and wanted to avert whatever train of thought she was following. She'd accpted his knowledge so far, but he was pushing Fox's credibility with her. That she'd aquieced to his unusual requests suggested a lot to Sam about their relationship. "So, Scully, I get the feeling you want to ask me about Holland." Sam smiled at her, his cheer a little forced. "You could say that." She drove silently for a moment, drawing one slim finger across her full lips. "How did you know about Dr. Holland's research. It wasn't in any of the files you gave me, Mulder." Her quiet words gave voice to a mute accusation. "Scully...Dana... You know I trust you." Sam knew Mulder did. He had to. Beckett also knew that he himself had grown to trust her implicitly. "No, Mulder, I don't know that. Not now. Not when you're running around giving me half answers to everything." Sam opened his mouth, but a curt wave from Dana silenced him. The anger in her voice disappeared as she continued. "Let me finish. I feel like you're cutting me off. And I don't know why." "Turn off here. I guess we need to talk." Sam knew that this Leap was putting a tremendous stress on their relationship. "Alright, but I hope you like Brownsville." She smiled softly as she nosed the big Chrysler towards the off-ramp for the sleepy town. * * * "Ziggy, you know full well that somebody went through my head and edited out memories, right?" Fox was leaning against the frigid glass of the control room window, using itÕs cold surface to stay awake and standing. "That is the best explaination. It also fits that the Accelerator I detected in Sacramento was the machine responsible." "Why?" "Ockham's Razor. There is no need to postulate a more complex situation than nescessary." Ziggy purred. ÒSo, twenty-six years ago on the east coast, I lost my memory due to a machine in Sacramento, according to you. Do you really think they had that technology then?Ó His head was resting on the glass, his eyes closed. ÒUnlikely, Agent Mulder. But, if it functions in a manner similar to our own Accelerator, it could have been used at any future point in time. Their Project may not yet even be operational.Ó ÒSo you think theyÕre planning on altering the past?Ó ÒThat is a reasonable hypothesis. We have encountered individuals trying to perform just that task." Fox smiled weakly, "Let me guess, they couldn't perform, right?" "Ooh, you're good." Now Fox was certain; the computer was making a pass at him. "Well, listen to this theory, Ziggy." He pushed off from the glass. "These...people...have had their technology for a while...maybe forty years." "Well, that makes a whole lot of sense. Are you sure you're lucid, Mulder?" For a moment, Ziggy reminded him of Dana. "Cute. And yes, I am." Fox shambled tiredly over to the control panel, and leaned over it. "Now, I have documents that suggest that devices similar to the ones you described were located in a wreckage decades ago. Only they weren't part of a time machine, they were a propulsion system." He looked up at her, smiling. "Foxy, are you suggesting that I look out for flying saucers? Now, that is what I call a theory from left field. Aside from being ridiculous, there's no evedence to support that kind of wild assertation." "Oh, and an AI running a time machine is a really normal thought? Come on, you have to be open to extreme possibilities." Fox wanted to lie down, badly. "My job is to pick _likely_ possibilities, not the ones most fit for daytime talkshows." "Ziggy, do you honestly think that there is a team full of Government scientists running around who can understand Dr. Beckett's theories? It makes more sense to believe my files. The ones that talk about fusion powered accelerators as propulsion systems. If I'm right, e might be able to shut down the other Project. Then you're home free to do whatever you want." "So, I have to choose between a brain damaged agent's word about men from Mars, or another Government PQL project. Hmmm, tough call. I'll pick the one without the UFOs." She dripped sarcasm. "Okay, then let me get my evidence. That way, you can base your calculations on something." "Sorry mister G-Man, but _you_ don't exist anymore. Your office is mildly gone." "I saved some of my work, some files...elsewhere. And they'll help you know what's going on." He lay his head on Ziggy's multicolored console. "They may even have something about why I'm getting sicker. C'mon, it's two for the price of one." "Excellent. Why didn't you say so, Sweet Cheeks? Just tell us where to find them, and we can retrieve them for you." "No." He raised his head blearily. "I have to get it myself." "I hate to burst your bubble, but there is no 'you' anymore, _Dr. Beckett_. You don't look much like Foxworthy Mulder at this time. Care to reconsider?" The little blue globe swam with diaphanous shapes as she spoke. "Let me do it, or it doesn't happen. Your call." He slid down the pedestal of the console, and rested his head against her smooth plastic side. "What do you want, Ziggy. It's all or nothing, baby. All or nothing." He closed his sad eyes. * * *