Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1999 16:41:04 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Whale ch 21 Message-ID: Chapter 21 The room was dark and cold. The only light in the room was a dim dark haze which seemed to emanate from the walls. A man sat on a chair in the center of the room, trying to orient himself. Just a few hours ago, he was in a much more comfortable position. He had been sitting comfortably on a bed, having just packed a bag for a trip. Now, the man had no idea where he was. The room felt like an interrogation room, which it was in the man's view. He'd been in interrogation rooms before and never did he find the experience pleasant. When he first arrived here (wherever here was), he was alone. He had searched the room only to find that he was clamped down to the chair and that the chair was bolted to the floor. There seemed nowhere to escape. His mental guards went up out of a mixture of instinct and training. A bright light had suddenly shined into the room. The man didn't say a word as he turned his eyes away to avoid seeing the bright light. A figure of a man was shadowed by the light. As the shadow entered the room, the door which allowed in the light slammed shut with a loud bang, leaving the man in the dark, unable to see clearly because of some visual disorientation. "Well, well, well!" the shadow said as soon as the door was closed. The shadow seemed to circle the man. "Who do we have here? Mind telling us?" "Who are 'we'?" the man asked. He should at least know by whom he was being kept prisoner. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and he could not tell that the shadow was an average height black man wearing the most bizarre outfit he had ever seen. "Let's just say that we're your friendly neighbor," the black man answered, sounding very annoyed. "But you can call me Thames." "'A little more than kin but less than kind," the man muttered, quoting "Hamlet". "You're a great deal of help." "And you are in no position to ask questions!" Thames bellowed out as he took a peculiar object from his pocket. It was pyramid-shaped and glowed white while colorful lines bounced around within it. It was actually one of the most beautiful things the man had ever seen. "Now," Thames continued. "Are you going to answer my few simple questions or am I going to have to force the answers out of you?" The man stared forward and didn't reply. "Now, what is your name?" "Why do you want to know?" Thames hit the man's face with the back of his hand. The man, though he was hardly phased by the action, gave Thames his name anyway. The blow was a hard one and the man could tell that Thames hadn't used all of his strength. After all, it was only his name. Name, rank and serial number. That was what was allowed, right? "What's the date?" Thames demanded. "The date?" the man wondered aloud. *I'm a prisoner and they want to know the date?* "Month, day, year," Thames explained sarcastically. "Don't you have a calendar?" the man responded with equal sarcasm. Thames struck him again for the act. The man decided it wasn't worth the beating over the day's date. "August 8, 1990." "Thank you," Thames replied over-dramatically. "May I ask a couple of questions?" the man requested with a bit of frustration. "Where am I and why am I being detained against my will?" Thames gave him a sly smile. "Don't press your luck. If you cooperate, you won't get hurt badly. At least, not yet," he smiled evilly. Now the man was alone again. This time, he was thankful for it. Thames had been tormenting him with tales of what they were going to do to him and with beatings which burned his skin. It wasn't the tales and the beating that frightened most but rather the look in Thames' eyes as he told those tales and beat him. Thames looked as if he couldn't wait for the opportunity to torture him. He also looked disappointed that he couldn't, at least not yet. The man hoped Thames would never get the opportunity. Zoe was alone in the hotel room. She smiled as she planned out the murder of Sam Beckett. Yes, this was going to be an interesting assignment. She knew precisely what she was going to do. The good Dr. Beckett didn't have a chance and neither did Albert Calavicci. Both of their lives were about to be permanently ruined. Just as she was thinking this, she heard the Holographic Observatory's portal open. Through the portal came Thames, looking thoroughly pleased. "Enjoying the leapee's company, I see," Zoe commented upon seeing Thames' expression. "Where's your friend?" Thames asked, looking around. "At the local library. It appears he needs that kind of environment to think, which is perfectly fine with me. We can talk without being disturbed. What do you have?" "Well, there's good news and there's bad news," Thames told her. "The good news is that Dr. Beckett has leaped into himself in this time period and Lothos is jamming their lines so they can't get anything on you or on whom you've leaped into." He looked at her with a smile. "You can have your revenge properly. The good doctor knows why he is going to die." "And that is the bad news," Zoe concluded. "Afraid so. There is a great possibility that he knows you're here and that you are going to kill him." "But he doesn't know who or how." Thames consulted his pyramid-shaped handlink. "Lothos doesn't think so. Like I said, he's jamming their lines before thy can gain much information. Looks like you're pretty much safe." Zoe shook her head with disbelief. "But not for long. Admiral Calavicci will find a way to get the information they need, I am certain. I know him very well, Thames. You can tell a lot about someone when they're put into a critical situation. The Admiral is a very determined and very clever man." "You seem to admire him." "Admire him?" Zoe laughed. "I admire his skillfulness and his cleverness, not him as a person." She exhaled. "It really is too bad he works for the others." Thames nodded his head. "Whatever," he answered, knowing that if the circumstances were different, perhaps her answer would have been different. "Have you thought out hoe you're going to finish the job?" "Oh, yes," Zoe smiled. "It's going to be quite a show." "I hate wheelchairs," Al muttered as he pushed himself out of the infirmary with Verbina just behind him. Verbina smiled at his comment. "Would you prefer being confined to a bed again?" Al rolled his eyes slightly at the question. "You're a cruel woman, Dr. Beeks, making a threat like that." "Who said it was a threat? Al, you have to stay off your feet and let your ribs and back heal. It isn't an option." Al exhaled. "I won't have Sam see me in a wheelchair," he told her firmly." "If you don't stay in that wheelchair for the next few weeks, you'll be in that wheelchair permanently. Now, which do you prefer?" Al stopped at the elevator and pressed the call-button. "Okay, Beeks. You win. I'll stay in the wheelchair. It doesn't mean I have to like it." The two entered the elevator and headed down to the tenth level. "I hear there's been a commotion while I was confined in the infirmary for the last hour," Al commented with a hint of annoyance in his voice for being out of the action, if only temporarily. Verbina shook her head. "I haven't yet got all the information on that but it doesn't look good. It looks like they know Sam's leaped into 1990." "You mean, Zoe and her compatriots," Al stated for clarification. "Terrific," he muttered sarcastically. "How'd they find out?" Verbina shook her head again. "I don't know. You'll have to ask Ziggy, Tina, and Gushie on that. I've been in the infirmary with you, remember?" Al exhaled again as the elevator door opened, allowing its two passengers to exit. The two went into the Control Room immediately, greeted by the sight of Tina and Gushie working at the Control Console. "What's the situation?" Al asked as he wheeled himself to the console and looked at the two technicians. Tina looked at Al with concern. "Al, honey, are you okay?" Al smiled slightly at her. "I'm fine. The situation?" he requested again. Tina paused. She looked at Gushie with shared concern before looking at Al. "Gushie and I have just discovered that Ziggy's communication lines are being jammed." "What?" Al questioned with incredulity. Gushie nodded his head. "Ziggy has confirmed it, Admiral. We have been cut off from all outside computer lines. Ziggy can't get any information concerning the leap unless we get it from Dr. Beckett himself." Al rubbed his face with frustration. "Great," he muttered sarcastically. "So we can easily assume that Zoe and her pals know Sam's leaped into 1990." "Correction, Admiral," Ziggy put in gently. "There is an 89.974% probability that they know that Dr. Beckett has leaped into his younger self on August 8, 1990." "And they're blocking the lines so we can't help him," Al assumed. "That," Tina told him, "and to prevent us from finding out who kills him. Or rather, into whom Zoe has leaped." Al thought about the information he was given. "How soon can we get those lines opened again?" "We cannot tell," Gushie told him. "It depends on how well those lines are jammed. We might not be able to open them up until it's too late." Al frowned at him. "That is not an option," he told him firmly. "Get them opened up. We can't afford to be flying blind with this leap." "Yes, sir," Gushie replied crisply. Tina approached Al gently and touched his shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay?" Al gave her a small smile. "I was a couple of minutes ago but now..." He exhaled, rubbing his face gently. "I need some sleep," he admitted. Tina smiled widely. "Really?" There was a definite hint in her voice. Al laughed gently. "I don't think I'm quite ready, physically, for that, honey." "Then, how about I tuck you in bed?" Tina offered gently. "And a gentle massage," she whispered. Verbina was giving Al a stern look of warning, which Al promptly noted and disregarded. Al's eyes glinted at Tina's suggestion. "Just be gentle."