Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1999 16:33:50 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Whale ch 11 Message-ID: Chapter 11 The sky was dark and cloudy, reflecting the general feeling of the area. Deep below the surface of the earth, there was a large bare room waiting to be used. Outside the room, pacing in a dimly lit control center, Thames waited while one of the project programmers typed into the main computer console. "I hate this place," Thames commented. "Everything's so dreary. At least the Director could bring some color to this place." "Like that suit you're wearing?" the programmer commented back, a mischievous smile on her face. "Hey, this is my best suit!" Thames told her. She shook her head in disbelief. "You've got that thing going yet?" Thames asked, ignoring the action. "Almost," she told him. "Go on into the Observatory." "It's about time. I was growing old waiting." Thames took a pyramid-shaped object and entered the Holographic Observatory. "Are you ready?" the programmer asked from the Control Center. "Ready," Thames answered. "We'll be doing a complete search. If we couldn't find Zoe before, we'll definitely find her this time." The search, however, failed completely. No matter what Thames or the programmer did to broaden or narrow the search, the same answer always came back from Lothos: negative. "Have you found her yet?" the Director asked as he entered the Control Center. "I'm afraid not, sir," the programmer answered with slight fear in her voice. She hoped the Director wouldn't place the blame for the failure on her; torture didn't appeal to her much. "We've tried everything we could think of. Zoe's just not there for us to lock on to her." "That's impossible," the Director told her factually. "You had a lock on her only a few hours ago. What happened?" "We don't know," Thames told him. "Lothos is thinking it through. He should have some ideas soon." "How soon?" "Asking how soon is done with his job is like asking who will win the next World Series. Nobody know but Lothos and he's not going to talk until he finds the answer." "Lothos," the Director demanded towards a large black block against a nearby wall. Lothos was not a very aesthetically pleasing computer but he was definitely practical, which was the only that the Director wanted. A deep bass voice responded to the Director's inquiry. "There are two possible solutions. Either Zoe is dead or she is no longer in the normal time frame." "But that isn't possible unless you change her time frame. Isn't that so?" "Correct. Or unless someone else has changed her time frame," Lothos pointed out. "What do you mean?" Thames asked. "There is a 98.99% chance that Dr. Beckett has leaped into Zoe." Thames pulled back slightly in surprise. "Say again?" "Dr. Beckett has leaped into Zoe. Therefore, she is in their Holding Chamber." "Oh! That's great!" Thames complained. "So, how are we supposed to do our job?" "That's your problem to handle," the Director told him. He turned and left the Control Center, satisfied that the situation was being handled. "Well, Lothos," Thames told the computer. "Looks like we have to find a way to get Zoe back. Any suggestions?" "Most of the possibilities must be done by Zoe. However, it is now impossible to tell her her options until I have completed a nanosearch. The search can take up to two weeks." Thames exhaled in frustration. "So, all we can really do at the moment is wait." "Until other options become available," the computer amended. Zoe had been leaping ever since she had leaped months ago to find Alia, the renegade. However, her attempt to kill Alia had failed when, out of pure luck, Dr. Beckett was able to shoot Zoe down with a rifle. The rifle shot had caused Zoe to fall into a deep coma which nearly lasted two weeks. Her punishment for failure was terrible torture. Thames could still hear her screams of agony ringing in his ears. He honestly didn't want the scream in his memory to be his own. Al spent the next few hours rearranging the duty roster for the complex and made certain that every one of his soldiers knew their new schedules. At last there was one less problem to stress over. But there was still the security system and Zoe's presence in the Waiting Room. Al had a bad feeling about her being there and he had learned long ago to trust his feelings. Yet, what else could he do with such limited resources? He slumped into his chair, mentally and physically exhausted from the strain of the past few days. He knew what he had to do but he really didn't want to interrogate the witch in the Waiting Room. She had the answers Al wanted to prevent her and that computer of hers... what was its name? Lothos?... from interfering with the project again and from make the world a worse place in which to live. "_Maledizione_(*)," Al muttered under his breath, upset enough to speak in his childhood language, his father's tongue. He made a sigh of resignation and stood up. He left his office again and headed back down to the tenth level and towards the Waiting Room. "Admiral Calavicci, did you seriously believe that I would tell you anything?" Zoe stated firmly, but with a satisfied smile, as Al left the Waiting Room after an hour and a half of fruitless interrogation. She laughed at the stupidity of Al's interrogation. Sure, he threatened, cursed, yelled, and glared but it was nothing compared to what she was used to. Now, that... that was interrogation. An idea was coming to Zoe's mind. She looked at her surroundings and at the door, which she had noticed earlier was being guarded by two Marine guards. The idea was, she had to admit, deviously evil. It would insure her position and her credibility with her fellows, she was sure. It would definitely insure Dr. Beckett's further non-interference. Now, if she could only plan it out in detail. She would definitely need access to Dr. Beckett's computer for a layout of the complex. She was sure she could do that quite easily. She would need time, though. She started planning. Sam surveyed the ship which he now, temporarily, captained. On one end of the ship, he could see Alik Roulier as he ordered the rest of the men about the ship, attempting to catch a nearby whale. He could also see into the kitchen and could see Gregory Stevenson cooking, peering out of the window occasionally to keep an eye on his militant friend. *Is that me or Gregory?* Sam wondered. The thought made him realize something Al had not. Sam needed to avoid meeting himself as Gregory. The risk was just too great. He didn't think there would be too much of a problem with that. Sam had only seen Rustov in passing during the last leap and once in his cabin to talk to him about listening to Alik's views. It also made him realize that Al hadn't told him what today's date was. Did he leap in before or after he had leaped into Gregory, timeline-wise that is? He looked at his watch with curiosity to find that it did have a calendar on it. He read the date: August 28, 1988. *That's before I leap into Gregory*, he remembered, surprised that he remembered the date of his last leap so clearly. *How is Alik doing with the catch?* Sam wondered. It was as if someone else was interested in knowing and Sam was the message courier. He approached Alik slowly, placing his hands behind his back as if it were an unconscious habit. *Probably Rustov's habit*, Sam thought as he stood beside Alik. "The catch," he said bluntly in Russian to his first mate, surprised with how much easier it was in this leap to speak the foreign language. Alik turned around to look at his captain. He exhaled. "Not good, Captain," he admitted to Sam. "The last two escaped us, though we did hurt that last one." Sam frowned at him, quite involuntarily. *What's the matter with me?* he questioned. *I'm acting like someone else!* "Not good, indeed," he told Alik. He exhaled. "We're going back to shore. Change course immediately." Alik frowned. "We are not staying for the completion of our outing?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. Sam took a step forwards, intimidating Alik. "We are not," he told him firmly. "Change course for the shoreline. Now. We'll dock at Petropavlovsk." He paused. "We're going home." Alik raised an eyebrow, still unsure. "Instead of taking advantage of the catches we can make? We aren't due home for another week." "That is what I said, Roulier. Was it not?" Alik nodded. "As you say, sir. I'll change course immediately." Sam gave a brief nod. "Good. Meanwhile, until we reach the shore, continue on." With that, he walked away from the scene and headed for the other side of the ship to assist the men on that side. As he helped the men to gather the equipment in preparation of breakfast, Sam thought about what had happened between him and Alik just moments ago. He was certain that someone else was saying those words, making those actions, even though it was his intention to change the ship's course and return to shore. He felt odd, as if there were a three way tug-of-war going on in his head - a tug-of-war with him on one rope, Rustov on another, and Zoe on the last, each of them wanting their own ideas to be played out. On the other hand, he could now speak Russian without even having to think about translating first. That was probably because his mind was merged with Rustov's. But, it was also merged with Zoe's. What did that mean for him? He didn't know the answer to that and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He just wanted to get this leap over as soon as possible. That meant the sooner they were docked in Petropavlovsk, the better. Sam had failed to notice Alik watching him with suspicion from the aft of the ship, murderous intent in his eyes. (*)Damn