From: FNYK09A@prodigy.com (Gary Himes) Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: TO FIGHT THE UNBEATABLE FOE 2/? Date: 7 Jun 1995 04:43:34 GMT Message-Id: <3r3apm$fl6@usenetp1.news.prodigy.com> "A 'slight miscalculation'?" Sam echoed thickly. "What's going on Gushie?" "Well, Ziggy has no idea how we made the mistake," Gushie replied, studying the handlink. "I mean, the first time we ran the probability matrices everything came up fine, Andrew Clemens gaduated high school and went to college, earned his degree in journalism and became a reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper...there was no indication of any personal upheavals in his life needing your intervention..." "Okay, Gushie, okay," Sam said with a touch of impatience. "Just tell me, what is going on?" Gushie continued as if he hadn't heard. "Ziggy's been cross-referencing past leaps for potential temporal fallout that could account for this, as well as some small change produced since your appearance here having unforseen consequences...." "What change, Gushie? Tell me what you found!" Sam's voice rose with irritation. "Then, of course, there's the possibility of input error..." "WHAT?!" Sam yelled with enough force to attract the hologram's attention. "Oh, yes," Gushie said, looking up from the handlink. "This afternoon at 12:15 p.m. eastern standard time Andrew Clemens is going to commit third degree manslaughter." "He's going to WHAT?" Sam yelped in surprise. Gushie shook his head with confusion. "What we still can't figure out is how we failed to see this on our first historical analysis. Maybe we cross-referenced the wrong Andrew Clemens--there could be someone else with the same name living in this town..." Sam threw up his hands in frustration. "Gushie, forget about Ziggy's faux pas for now, all right? Our job is to stop Andrew! Now," he took a calming breath, "...tell me what happened." "Apparently he got into an altercation after school with a young hooligan named Devon Chandler and, well, smashed his skull." Gushie made a face at the handlink's readout. "Young Mr. Clemens must study karate or some similar martial art, otherwise I don't see how a boy of fifteen would be able to inflict the type of damage described in the coroner's report." "I do." Sam picked up the journal and waved it at Gushie. "Go back to the waiting room and talk to Dr. Jeffcoate, tell him you know all about his photon beam experiments and 'Ultraman'. See if you can get him to open up and find out what could drive Andrew to do something like this." Gushie looked at the offered journal with confusion. "The only listing Ziggy has for an 'Ultraman'," he read from the handlink, "...is a character in a Japanese children's television series." "Just do it," Sam ordered. "And tell me where this is going to happen." "In Briarwood High School at 275 Huntington Parkway," Gushie read. "You know, it's really a shame. He gets sentanced to juvenile hall, ends up dropping out of school, never goes to college, becomes a drifter and eventually disappears altogethor. Yet all our data on Andrew Clemens indicates he was a bright, good-natured young man with a promising future..." "Which he could still have if we both get busy!" Sam pointed out forcefully. "On my way doctor!" Gushie said obediantly as he exited through the glowing door. Sam Beckett expelled a sigh of irritation. He supposed he liked Gushie, but from what he could remember the programmer was a complete scatterbrain when it came to anything except computers. He might mean well, but his train of thought tended to jump the tracks until he drove you to distraction. With a silent prayer to the one observor who was always present, Sam swore that if he had ever taken Al for granted in the past he would never so again if the admiral would only get back and deliver him from Gushie's chipper ineptitude. * * * * * Stephanie Clemens watched with motherly concern as her "son" picked at his breakfast. "What's wrong honey? Is there something the matter with your eggs?" "Nothing 'mother'," Zoey replied with barely-disguised contempt, then added mentally, nothing that a functioning garbage disposal wouldn't fix. Why did Lothos continually put her in the middle of these monotonous suburban hells? If she didn't know better, Zoey would've suspected the megalomaniacal computer of having a sense of humor. "Do you feel well?" Stephanie asked, placing her hand on Zoey's forehead to check her tempature. "I've never known you not to just inhale scrambled eggs and bacon." Zoey drew back from her touch with obvious distaste. Until she knew her exact assignment she could not afford to get too far out of character, but part of her was already hoping that she was here to destroy her host's inane dishrag of a mother. All her life she had had a sore spot for mothers, beginning with her own, a drunken bitch whose constant abuse had finally earned her a sliced brakeline and a one way trip off a mountain road. "He's probably not eating because he's worried about Devon Chandler," said Erin Clemens, her eight-year-old 'sister' and another irritating aspect of her teenage host's life. Children were another thing high on the list of that for which she had no love. Stephanie fixed her with an inquiring look. "Devon Chandler?" "He's the toughest boy at Briarwood High," the little girl continued, "...and Terri's big sister heard that he's gonna pound Andrew 'cause Devon has a crush on Sandy Lindane but she's been after Andrew to take her to the dance next week!" "Oh?" Zoey's eyebrows lifted in genuine interest; the first priority on any leap was gathering information. "And what else have you heard?" "Terri's sister said she heard from her boyfriend Rick that Devon has a whole gang of guys and they're gonna really bust you up if you don't keep away from Sandy!" Satisfied that she'd shown her big brother up Erin returned to wolfing down her breakfast. Zoey leaned down close and whispered in her ear, "Children with loose lips often never grow to be adults." Erin Clemens looked up to return her 'brother's' jibe, but something in his eyes froze her with a fear she had never felt in his presence before. For a second Erin thought she could see actual hatred on his face, not just the usual annoyance a brother felt for a kid sister. She felt a shudder pass through her. "Is this true?" Stephanie interjected. "Is this boy really trying to pick a fight with you?" "Oh, I wouldn't worry about it; I can deal with anyone who dares to challenge me." Zoey's tone was light, but someone who knew her would recognize the sincerity of her threat. Stephanie laughed. " 'Challenge' you? Andrew, I swear you're starting to talk like those comic books you read." Just then a door of pulsating light appeared beside the table and a thin, short-haired black man dressed in a silver tunic trimmed with glowing golden lights emerged. "How you handling the high school hormones, girlfriend?" Zoey fixed him with a withering stare, making it clear she didn't appreciate his trying to initiate a conversation in front of civilians. "Yeah, right," he said, getting it. "Meet me in the garage." "I don't think I can finish this," Zoey said to Andrew's mother. "I've got a few things to do before going to class." "Well, okay sweetheart; just try to stay away from this Chandler boy and keep out of trouble, all right?" Fat chance, Zoey thought, but said in sotto voce, "Yes...mother." Thames was studying the Clemens family station wagon when Zoey found him. "Shee-it, would you look at this wussmobile? I'd travel by mule before I got in this thing." "Thames, do forget about your critique of this era's gas-guzzling automobiles and tell me why I'm in this miserable boy's dreary life?" Zoey demanded. Thames looked up, surprised. "Don't you know who you are, luv?" Zoey studied her reflection in the car's mirror. "The Beaver?" she replied sarcastically. "Honey, you are living the life of one Andrew Clemens, the toughest mother this little world has seen since Samson got his trim! I know your memory's a little moth-eaten but you must remember this dude!" Zoey regarded him icily. "I don't, so humor me." Thames pulled out his handlink and communicated its readout. "Our boy Andrew can soar like an eagle, bench press around 20 tons, run at about Mach 5, and is tough enough to survive a head-on collision with a Scud. Seems he got a little taste of a photon beam around this time and it changed him into uberpunk." The leaper regarded him with disbelief. "Thames, I'm in no mood for jokes." "This data is comin' straight up from the omnipotent mainframe," he assured you. "Y'see, Clemens didn't go public with his personal farfugnugen until 2007 when he rescued the United Nations Security Council from being assasinated by the Hong Kong Liberation Brigade. After that he went to work for the UN International Taskforce and has been a busy little beaver smashing crime syndicates, busting up terrorist groups and basically doin' the Captain Marvel routine for all the downtrodden dirtbags in the world. "Another wretched boy scout," Zoey remarked with venom. "But one super-duper, cosmic-powered boy scout," Thames pointed out. "Let's see about that." Zoey looked around the garage until her eyes alighted on a tire iron. Picking it up she slowly--experimentally--bent it into a pretzel shape and then back again. "Bloody marvelous," she said in a voice full of awe, terrible possibilities swimming through her head. "Up in our day this guy has practically imposed the 'Pax Ultraman' on the world, and Lothos says he represents a major, MAJOR threat to our plans if he isn't dealt with." "Understood." Zoey smiled sadistically. "So what's the plan? Turn Clemens into a teenage suicide statistic?" "Hon, unless you got a neutron bomb in your pocket I don't think there is anything you CAN do to ice our little friend. This kid's got a hide tougher than titanium. Besides, Lothos already has a better idea." "Oh? And what delicious little strategy does he have for me this time?" This was the part she loved--the scheming, the dirty tricks, the masterful, almost artistic destruction of an enemy. Despite the occasional perturbations of leaping through time, Zoey had to admit this was the life she was bred for. "Zo, you up for a little homicide?" And this time Thames returned her smile with one equally unpleasant. * * * * * The plan was simple, but elegant in the sadistic manner Zoey so adored. The young hellion who had recently been a thorn in Clemens' side was the key; Zoey would find a way to start a fight with him, then use her superpowers to utterly crush him. Lothos would leap her out and Clemens would return to find blood on his hands and an enemy's dead body at his feet. In the end he would never be able to convince anyone--even himself--that he wasn't at fault. The fool, Zoey thought contemptuously. To possess the power of a god and the mentality of a cartoon character. In his place (which, for now, she was) Zoey could have ruled the world, not that that wasn't in Lothos' plans anyway. In a way he reminded her of that dolt Beckett, who had all of history to twist any way he wanted and chose to play social worker instead. The last time they had met he had cost her her revenge on that bitch Alia and nearly killed her besides. And now, though time and space were nearly infinite, they still wasn't big enough to hide him from her. One day she would find him and then, Dr. Beckett, you'll see that all your good deeds won't buy your way out of a slow, brutal death. Oh, well--business for another time and place. Today's concern was clipping the wings of a prospective avenger. She knew his type; even if the resulting jail term wasn't enough to break his spirit, the guilt he would feel from believing he had used his gift to kill would effectively keep him from ever playing superhero again, and Lothos would be one step closer to ultimate power. She had to grin at the simplicity of it all. Zoey had retrieved Andrew's school books and was just walking out the front door when she heard someone call out, "Andrew! Do you have a minute?" Looking around she saw she was being called to by a chubby man standing on the porch of the neighboring house. By Eblis, what now? she thought. Thames appeared beside her. "Who's the spaz?" she inquired. "Dr. Ben Jeffcoate," the hologram replied. "Two time winner of the Nobel prize in 1997 and 2003, and the brainiac who invented the photon device that gave Kid Marvel here his stuff." Zoey's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps we should dispose of him while we have the opportunity. We wouldn't want him making any more little wunderkind, would we?" "Don't worry about that," Thames replied, consulting the handlink. "None of the experiments to duplicate the photon beam's effects ever came to anything; it was eventually concluded there was some x-factor in Clemen's body chemistry that reacted uniquely to it." "Still, he might make a tasty little morsel before we move on to our main course," Zoey replied with a smirk. "Focus, babe, focus," Thames warned. "Lothos ain't askin' for any freebies." With a push of a button a door of pulsating light appeared and he vanished through it. "Very well," Zoey said unhappily as the scientist approached. "Andrew, how do you feel this morning?" Sam asked, noting that the boy was attired in a leather jacket and cycle boots, looking more "tough" than he had the day before. "Oh, just peachy doctor," she replied silkily. "You must excuse me; the hallowed halls of learning await." A wave of puzzlement swept over Sam as he heard the strange phrasing of the teenager's words, subtly changed from the day before. He shrugged it off and continued. "Though I normally wouldn't ask you this, I was wondering if you could stay home from school today? We're at a critical junction at our tests and I'd like to complete them as soon as possible." Zoey regarded him with cold amusement. "Oh, I don't think I could do that professor. Playing hookey is wrong...and heroes never do anything wrong," she said sarcastically. "Even so, just this once..." Sam pressed on. "I'm afraid not," the evil leaper replied, growing impatient. If this dweeb impeded her another moment she would squash him like the bug he resembled, orders or no orders. "There's a very important matter I must attend to at school today." "Andrew" began to walk away down the sidewalk in the direction of Briarwood High, but "Dr. Jeffcoate" would not be put off so easily. Sam paced alongside Zoey as she walked away. "Andrew, I know it must be frustrating sometimes to have this special gift and have to hide it, to have put up with the day-to-day frustrations and limitations of an ordinary teenager's life," Sam said, thinking of his own gifted childhood. "But it's important to remember that this power brings with it a responsibility, a responsibility to treat those weaker than you with restraint and compassion no matter how much you might get angry with them at times. I know it isn't easy for someone your age to always have that amount of control, but to be mature is to try to find solutions to your problems that don't involve violence." Zoey looked at him with baneful curiosity. "Do you really believe in that nonsense? If history, biology, sociology and all the other sciences teach us anything, it is that violence is the most natural thing in the world. Since the beginning of human history there have been wars, purges, pogroms, combats, inquisitions and killings beyond imagining! Even before our species appeared the guiding principal behind all life was the survival of the fittest. Well," she concluded with a malevolent flourish, "...I am the fittest of all, and I intend to do more than survive! I shall prevail! And anyone who gets in my way will live to regret it...or worse, not." Sam started to lay a reassuring hand on Andrew's shoulder and make a reply, but before he could make contact or get a syllable out his companion was gone, sped away so fast her wake blew the freshly-mowed grass in the yards she passed into a green rain falling all over the street. Sam felt the air nearly torn from his lungs by the whirlwind force of her wake. The quantum leaper stared after the teenager's blurred form, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. Beside him the imaging chamber door opened and Gushie emerged. "Good morning Dr. Beckett!" he said cheerfully, oblivious to the scientist's distressed expression. "I spent the evening talking with Dr. Jeffcoate, and he's a very fascinating individual. Do you know that both he and I share an interest in collecting stamps? Maybe later we'll have time to look at his collection..." Sam breathed a sigh of fustration. "Gushie, forget about the stamps. I just spoke with Andrew, but I don't think I had any effect on him. What does Ziggy say?" "Let's see." The programmer consulted the handlink. "She says that Andrew Clemens...has vanished." "Vanished?" "We've lost our lock on his brainwave patterns," Gushie continued. "I wonder how that happened?" "Probably because he's moving too fast for Ziggy to track," Sam pointed out. "Did you get anything out of Dr. Jeffcoate about Andrew's powers?" "At first he didn't want to talk; he thought I was a foreign agent out to steal his secrets," Gushie related. "Finally I had to make a trade with him." "A trade?" Sam looked at the short man with interest. "I told him about the project," Gushie admitted with a bit of self-consciousness. "I know it's a violation of our security, but I just didn't see any other way of gaining his trust, so I took him for a tour of the facility. I think he's in love." "He met Tina, huh?" Sam said with amusement. "No, Ziggy," he replied, and Sam thought he heard a trace of jealously in his voice. "They must have talked about the adaption of duotronics to the processing of binary data until three in the morning." "Good work Gushie." For the first time Sam felt that the programmer just might grow into the role of hologram successfully. "What did he tell you about Andrew?" "He seems very fond of the boy, although a bit guilty about the effect of his experiments on him. I believe he wants to find a way to remove Andrew's powers, though only for his own good." "Has he found a way?" Sam asked, thinking about the curt talk he had had with the boy. If Andrew Clemens was as out of control as Sam suspected, rendering him powerless might be his only option. "Nothing with a permanent effect, although he did say that on a trip to the dentist Andrew was exposed to X-rays that neutralized his special abilities for several days. He thinks that a higher dosage might be permanent, but he's also afraid that such a high level of radiation might be dangerous to the boy." "He's right," Sam admitted. "I wouldn't want to take that chance either. But we don't have many options left." "Dr. Beckett?" "When I talked to Andrew he didn't seem the same, either as I saw yesterday or as Dr. Jeffcoate described in his journal. He seemed harder...angrier...almost like he was a different person." Sam's voice became quiet. "I was frightened by him." - GARY HIMES FNYK09A@prodigy.com