Message-Id: <199301061907.AA20499@tbird.cc.bellcore.com> From: krk1@pyuxe.cc.bellcore.com (knights,katriena r) Date: 6 Jan 1993 13:57 EST Subject: LeapTrek II, chapter 1 LEAPTREK II CHAPTER ONE Al was sleeping when the call came from the control room that the leap had completed. He hastily threw on a robe and ran for the waiting room. He was somewhat worried about the leap; the last one had been tricky to say the least, and he'd been concerned that Sam might get lost in the process of reshuffling the time continuums they had managed to cross to meet up with Jean-Luc Picard and the Enterprise. So he was relieved to know that they had received another leapee, but at the same time he couldn't help but wonder if Sam had made it safely to his destination. "Who is it, Ziggy?" he called out, rounding the corner to the waiting room. There was no answer. "Ziggy!" he called again. Still silence. Verbena Beeks was just emerging from the waiting room. "Ziggy's communications circuits are off-line," she said. "Gooshie and Tina are working on it." "Oh, wonderful. So we don't know who he is." "Well, as a matter of fact, we do," said Verbena. She looked back at the closed door. "Why don't you go in and talk to him? I think you're going to find this very interesting." Al shrugged. Usually, Verbena discouraged contact with the leapees. But since Ziggy was down, it seemed appropriate to Al that he be allowed to intervene this time. He opened the door and went in. The man looked like Sam Beckett. They all looked like Sam Beckett. But this version stood very stiff, solid in his stance in spite of the bleary look in his eyes. When he saw Al he took a step forward, a spark of indignation igniting on his face. "I hope," he said firmly, "that you are prepared to face the consequences of abducting a Starfleet officer." Al frowned. "Well, I don't know." "Then maybe you should have looked into that before you did it. Now, who the hell are you and what makes you think you have the right to beam me right out of my quarters?" "I'm Admiral Albert Calavicci," Al replied. "And who the hell are you?" The man straightened even more; a feat Al would not have thought possible. "Commander William T. Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise." "Oh, boy," said Al. **** Sam stared at the mirror, shocked. The bearded man with dark hair and grey-blue eyes was not a stranger. "Riker?" Sam said. "Commander Riker? What in the . . ." He broke off. It wasn't possible. Data had reprogrammed Ziggy to send the Enterprise and her crew back -- or forward, rather -- to the 24th century, safely out of Sam's zone of influence. Yet there was Riker, staring Sam in the face, clad in a red and black Starfleet uniform, surrounded by a room full of gadgets Sam could not make heads or tails of. Something had definitely gone awry. And he wasn't going to be granted any time to think about it. A commanding voice interrupted his thoughts. "Number One, report to the bridge immediately." Sam had the distinct feeling that this was the captain, whose persona he had only recently vacated. "I'm on my way," Sam said automatically, and went to find the door. That problem solved, he found the nearest turbolift and asked to be taken to the bridge. In a way, it was comforting to be in familiar surroundings, even though he still didn't have the hang of the 24th century technology. At least he didn't need Al to tell him who he was. On the bridge, the captain was standing in front of his chair, talking in low tones to Deanna Troi, the ship's counselor. Sam hesitated. There was a good chance that Deanna, with her empathic abilities, would be instantly aware of Sam's presence. Sam analyzed himself for a moment, making sure he felt confident and in control. As long as he kept his emotions in line with what Riker would normally feel, he should be relatively safe. Picard looked up. "Number One," he said. It was strange to Sam to be looking at a face which he had recently seen looking back at him out of mirrors. "I need you to take the bridge. My presence has been requested planetside to finalize the negotiations." "Aye, sir," said Sam. He took the command chair as Picard left the room. "So much for a relaxing afternoon with your trombone," Deanna said to him. Sam glanced at her. She was smiling warmly. He had suspected, and was beginning to believe, that there was a great deal of affection between these two people. Well. He'd have no difficulty faking that emotion. He had developed a certain affection for Deanna, himself. "Well, duty calls," he said. "It could be worse." "Commander Riker." The voice came from the bridge intercom, and Sam was fairly certain it belonged to O'Brien. "We have a guest requesting permission to board." "Oh, really? Who is it?" There was a pause. "It's Counselor Troi's mother, sir." Sam looked at Deanna, eyebrows up. Deanna put her face in one hand. "It's worse." **** A cup of hot coffee and a Wynton Marsalis tape served to calm Commander Riker considerably. Al went to get dressed, leaving Verbena with the Commander. When Al returned to the waiting room, the atmosphere was much more civil. "So," said Riker. "You're Al? And this is where Captain Picard was two weeks ago while your friend Beckett was on the ship?" "That's right," Al said. He turned to Verbena. "Is Ziggy back up yet?" "I believe so, yes." Al inspected his handlink, making sure it was charged. "Ziggy, can you tell us where Sam is right now? Location and date?" The computer's feminine voice seemed a little slow, but otherwise no worse for the malfunction. "Dr. Beckett is currently aboard the starship Enterprise, in a high orbit above Earth. The date is . . . uncertain, but approximately 400 years in the future." Al glanced at Riker. Riker shrugged. "That's about right." "Yeah, maybe, but Ziggy's not supposed to be able to move Sam out of his own life loop. Unless . . ." He tapped the handlink reflectively. "You guys hang tight. I'm going to talk to Gooshie." When he found Gooshie on the floor under Ziggy's main memory banks, Al knew his guess had been right. "What's going on, Gooshie?" "Nothing normal, that's for sure. Ziggy's acting very strange. I can't find anything in the software, so I thought it might be a hardware problem." He sat up. "Ziggy's accessing a lot more power than he should be." "Well, I guess that explains why Sam is sitting in the 24th century." "What?" "You heard me." Al frowned. "I have a real funny feeling I know what's going on. Check that software again, and look for hidden files. And look damn hard. I've got to go talk to Sam." In the waiting room, the atmosphere had gotten even more comfortable. Riker and Verbena appeared to be having quite an involved conversation. Al elected to leave them alone, and went on to the Imaging Chamber. The door opened at his request, so at least one thing was normal. Inside, Al was confronted with the image of the Enterprise bridge. Lt. Commander Data was right in front of him. Al shivered a little. The pasty-faced android gave him the willies. He walked through the image to approach the command chair. Now there was a much nicer representative of the future: Deanna Troi. She certainly didn't give Al the willies. Sam, hiding behind Commander Riker's aura, was talking to her. "Well, if I had a choice, I'd say no," Deanna was saying. "But she _is_ my mother. And since the negotiations are concluding and we're basically just on shore leave, I don't see any excuse not to let her on board." Sam nodded. "Permission granted." He looked at Al then. "We need to talk, Sam. We've got big problems." Sam's mouth tightened and he stood. "I'll be in the ready room." Deanna nodded. Al followed Sam to the little room off the main bridge. Sam sat down behind the desk. "Is it my imagination," Sam said, "or has something gone more than a little caca?" "Caca doesn't even come close. Ziggy is acting very weird." "Weird like how?" "Like he's pulling in enough power to light Cleveland for a week. And like he's leaped you into the 24th century." Sam was shocked. "You mean I'm operating on their timeline? No time bubble this time?" "That appears to be the case." "But that's impossible." "Well, maybe not. If you'll recall, Data reprogrammed Ziggy so we could send the Enterprise back where it belonged." "But those programs were supposed to automatically erase themselves." "But what if they didn't? What if Ziggy's been playing with them since 1995, and now he's pulling them out and using them?" "Oh, boy. We could be in big trouble." "We certainly could." "So what am I supposed to do? Is there something here I can fix so I can leap out of here?" "I don't know. We're talking to Riker, so maybe he'll have some ideas. In the mean time, just . . . enjoy the ride, I guess. Bye-bye." "Enjoy the ride," Sam grumbled as Al departed. "Yeah, easy for you to say." He gave himself a minute to collect himself, then returned to the bridge. Deanna was pacing. She looked up as Sam came through the door. "Are you ready?" Sam shook his head in puzzlement. "Ready for what?" "Well, Mother _is_ an Ambassador. We really should go meet her." "Yeah, yeah, all right." He struggled for a moment, trying to remember who was third in command. He had no clue. Data, however, had turned a look toward him that Sam was relatively sure was expectant. "Mr. Data, you have the bridge." "Aye, sir," said the android, and stepped to the command chair. Deanna was wearing a mischievous smile when they stepped into the turbo lift. "What?" Sam demanded. He was beginning to get annoyed at the proceedings. He had a feeling some of Riker was rubbing off on him. "You don't have to be so nervous," Deanna said. "I'm quite certain Mother has given up on the idea of marrying you." Sam turned his eyes to the ceiling. "Oh . . . boy." **** "You can't think of anything. Not one thing." Riker, obviously annoyed by Al's prodding, flung himself out of the chair and began to pace. "No. I can't think of anything." "Come on," Al insisted. "Surely somebody like you has done _something_ to screw up your life. Are you sure there are no women out to kill you?" "No more than there are out to kill you," Riker shot back. Al winced, taking a puff of his cigar. "You're in big trouble, then, kid." Verbena, who had been hiding laughter behind one long, dark hand, decided it was time to step in. "Gentlemen, we have a problem here. I think we can cooperate to solve it. Now, Will, what you have to understand is that, in the past, Sam has been able to leap out of a situation by correcting something that has gone wrong in someone's life. All we're trying to do is ascertain if there is any situation you are aware of which Sam might be supposed to make right. Is there anything you've done recently which you regret?" The commander was nodding, obviously calmed by Verbena's gentle approach. Al sucked meditatively on the cigar, trying to quell his impatience. He didn't like this situation, didn't like his queasy doubts that they would be able to get Sam back. Didn't like the fact that he hadn't told Donna yet, and wasn't looking forward to the task. Maybe he could get Verbena to pull that duty for him, too . . . no, that wouldn't be right. He'd go find her as soon as he was done here. "Well," Riker said. "I guess . . . There's my father. I never really got things totally patched up with him. But he's not around right now, so I don't see how Sam could help with that. And there's Ro Laren, that whole thing that happened with her . . ." That piqued Al's interest. "Ro Laren? Isn't she the one on the bridge? The pretty one with the weird nose?" "Yes," Riker said tersely. "Ensign Ro. She sits at ops." "What happened with her? You sleep with her?" "Well . . . it was kind of an unusual situation." "I'll bet it was unusual. She's not even human. What was it like?" Riker was starting to fume again. "Not that much different than any other alien woman I've slept with . . . What is your problem, anyway?" But Al was relentless in his single-mindedness. "You've slept with other aliens? Ever been with a girl with tentacles?" Verbena's eyes widened a bit. "Albert Calavicci, you are one sick puppy. Maybe you should go and let me talk to Will." Reluctantly, Al nodded. "Yeah, maybe I should. I'd better go find Donna." "You haven't talked to Donna yet?" Verbena was obviously put off. "Go talk to her now. And if she needs me, you come get me. Understood?" "Yeah." Al started for the door, then hesitated. "What about Deanna? You ever sleep with Deanna?" Riker gave him an extraordinarily Sam Beckett-like glare. "Will you please leave?" "Yes, Al," Verbena put in. "Please leave." Al left. **** Sam was not certain what he had expected to see when they went to the transporter room to meet Deanna's mother, but he was certain this was not it. The black-eyed, gaudily dressed woman bubbled over to her daughter and embraced her. "Oh, little one, it's been absolutely forever. How are you?" "I'm fine, Mother," Deanna said. "How are you?" "Oh, I'm wonderful, my dear. Say hello to Mr. Homm." Deanna nodded greetings to the extremely tall, blue-skinned man who still stood on the transporter pad next to Mrs. Troi's luggage. "Um, Mother . . . How long are you planning to stay?" "Well, how long are you going to be here?" Deanna threw a pained look back at Sam. "Oh, dear. Well, Mother, I guess we'd better get you to your quarters. I had the usual rooms set up for you." "Why, how thoughtful of you, little one. Come, Mr. Homm." She left the transporter room in a quick bustle, giving Sam a very strange look as she passed. She caught hold of Deanna's arm and pulled her along, leaving Sam with the dubious company of Mr. Homm. "It's . . . um . .. good to see you again," Sam said. Homm smiled and inclined his head politely. "I hope you have a pleasant stay." Another nod. Obviously Homm wasn't the talkative sort. "You ever play any basketball?" Sam ventured. Fortunately, the walk to Mrs. Troi's quarters was a short one. At the door, Mrs. Troi paused to take both her daughter's hands in hers. "Won't you stay for a moment?" "I'm sorry, Mother, but Captain Picard is planetside and I really need to go back to the bridge. Perhaps I can join you after dinner?" "Oh, that would be lovely." She turned to Sam and gave him a look that went a few stages past undressing him. "You I would very much like to see later, as well. I'll call you." Sam felt his face growing extremely warm. "Um, of course, Mrs. Troi. Whatever I can do to help." She smiled quite wickedly and let the door slide closed behind her. Deanna looked at Sam. "Maybe she hasn't given up on that idea, after all." **** "He's where? Sam's where?" Al put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He had not seen Donna this upset since the Tamlyn incident. Only then she had been thinking of various inventive ways to kill Sam. Now Al had the distinct impression she was turning similar attention toward him. "He's . . . in the future. He's aboard the Enterprise again, except this time he's on their timeline. He's perfectly safe there. They're just orbiting Earth. There's no green men coming to try to blow them up or anything. I wouldn't worry about it." "I'd worry about it if I were you. How do we know we can get him back?" "If we got him there, we can get him back." "That's what you said after the first leap. I don't see him back yet. Instead he's still out there bouncing around, sleeping with strange women . . . " Here we go, Al thought. She's still stewing. Not that he really blamed her. He would have been pretty upset, too, if their situations had been reversed. Well, unless he'd been Sam. "You know, he would never have slept with that woman if he hadn't simoleaped with you. You know that, don't you? That wasn't Sam in bed with her, it was you." "Don't I wish," Al mumbled. "Listen, Donna, you know he loves you, he just doesn't remember you. And when he gets back here, he'll forget all about her. He may have forgotten about her already." Donna had turned away and was staring at the books on her shelf, blinking back tears. "I know. It just seems like . . . every time we get close to getting him back something like this happens." She looked at him again, eyes cleared. "Is there anything I can do to help?" "Talk to Gooshie. He's trying to figure out what's wrong with Ziggy. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the files Data added to send the Enterprise back, but on our timeline that was five years ago, so I don't know where they've been all this time." "All right. I'll have a look. I think I still have some of Sam's original specs floating around here somewhere. That might help. He put in a lot of backups and hidden subroutines that I don't think he told Gooshie about." "Well, I'm sure Gooshie will be glad to hear that." Al could picture the floppy disks flying already. "Oh, you know how Sam is. His memory was half magnafluxxed before he ever leaped. The man can recite Shakespeare after one reading but he can't remember where to put his dirty underwear." Al smiled. That was the Donna he knew. "Well, I'll get you some breakfast ready." "Thanks, Al. But don' t bother. I'll get something later." "Sure. All right." He left her to dig through her books and her thoughts. Not for the first time, he wished there were more he could do to help her bear her burden of loneliness. And for once, he was not thinking in terms of sex. Not that he had never thought of Donna that way -- he thought of all women that way -- but he certainly wasn't going to touch his best friend's wife. Lighting the cigar Donna had asked him not to smoke in her presence -- she'd been touchy about that lately -- Al continued on his way back to the waiting room and the Imaging Chamber. Verbena was still consulting with Riker, and he didn't want to bother Sam again without any information. So, instead, he went to find Tina. **** Sam ended up spending Riker's entire shift in the command chair, wondering if Picard was ever going to return to the ship, and wondering also why such a technologically advanced society could not produce a uniform tunic that did not creep up every time you got up or sat back down. Finally Data stepped up to the command chair. "Pardon me, Commander, but your duty shift has been over for ten minutes." Sam looked up. The android's expression was placid as usual. "Oh. Right. I thought I was feeling a little hungry." Deanna smiled at him warmly. "Any dinner plans?" "If you mean am I planning to have dinner with your mother, no." The thought of being alone with that woman gave him the creeps. "Hmm," said Deanna. "I wouldn't count on that." She was still laughing as he entered the turbolift. It was at times like this that Sam was glad he had a photographic memory. He was able to retrace his steps to Riker's quarters without difficulty. But the rooms proved not to be the haven he had hoped for. On the table in the middle of the front room was a large vase filled with flowers. There was a note attached. Feeling his stomach sink, Sam plucked it off. The handwriting was flowery. Sam knew whose it was before he even started to read. "To Sam Beckett: I know it's quaint these days to send a hand-written note, but anything else would be too, too impersonal. Please allow me the pleasure of your company tonight at dinner, so that we may discuss who you are and why my daughter thinks you are Will Riker. See you right away, you delicious little man. Lwaxana Troi." Sam's life flashed before his eyes. He was distressed that he could remember so little of it. He left Riker's quarters and went forth to meet his fate. **** "Yeah, there's definitely some stuff in here that shouldn't be." Gooshie was mumbling; he always mumbled when he was absorbed in his work. "But I can't figure out how to get it out." Donna was leaning over his shoulder, looking at the handwritten specs she had found in one of Sam's old files. "There's a whole network of hidden directories that were set up to function independently from the main operating system. Ziggy can actually boot himself from them." "Why did Sam do that?" Al asked. He was having trouble paying attention without his cigar. "I think he intended it to work as virus protection, or protection against power outages, things like that. Or if someone decided to come in and erase Ziggy's hard drive, like someone who had decided we were eating up too much grant money." Donna shook her head. "Brilliant, of course, but it makes this situation particularly difficult since Ziggy seems to have effectively seized control of the entire network." "Oh, wonderful," Al said. "So we can't do anything to the files unless Ziggy lets us in?" "That's what it looks like," offered Gooshie. "I'll keep working on it. Why don't you let me keep those specs, Dr. Alessi. I'd like to look them over." "Sure." She laid the papers down on the table next to him. "I'll look and see if I can find anything else." She hesitated. "Has anyone tried talking to Ziggy?" "Ziggy's not talking," said Gooshie. "He's shut down the communications system. Obviously he doesn't want to discuss this. Tina's trying to bypass, but no luck so far." "Strange." Donna stepped back, eyes distant. Suddenly, she turned and headed back to her room. "Let's hope it's a good brainstorm," Al commented. He patted himself down for a cigar and lit it. "I'm going to go talk to Sam. Keep me posted." Gooshie nodded. Al met Verbena in the hallway. "How's it going?" he asked her. "Any great ideas from our pal in there?" "No, not really. But he'd like to know if he can take a look around." Al shrugged. "I guess so. Just don't let him touch anything. Especially Tina." Verbena grinned. "I'll be sure he's kept well under control." "Yeah, sure," Al mumbled. He checked his handlink. It appeared to still be working in spite of Ziggy's desire not to communicate. He poked a few buttons, then opened the Imaging Chamber door. **** Sam straightened his shirt and took a deep breath before pressing the button next to Lwaxana Troi's door. "Come in!" she called. Sam did so, stiffly, feeling his mouth becoming dry. Lwaxana had laid out plates of pastries on the table, and two wineglasses stood side by side. Mr Homm stood quietly by a wall, waiting for his services to be required. "Have a seat, please," Lwaxana said, gesturing to the cushions around the low table. "You do look handsome." Sam demurred. "Look, Mrs. Troi. I'm really not hungry. Now could you just tell me, please, what this is all about?" "Well, it's about you, of course." "What about me?" She smiled. "Well, dear, I know why you're here. I know what it is you're supposed to do." Sam blinked. "You do?" "Well, of course I do. Now just sit down and we'll talk about it." Reluctantly, Sam lowered himself to one of the cushions. Lwaxana sat across from him. "Now, Dr. Beckett . . . can I call you Sam?" "How do you know who I am?" "Why, I can read your mind, of course." "I thought . . . I thought Betazoids could only read emotions." "No, no, that's Deanna. She's only half Betazoid. Full Betazoids are fully telepathic." "So . . . why didn't you say something before, if you knew I wasn't Will?" "Well, I didn't know you were supposed to be Will at first. I thought you were just some tasty little morsel Deanna picked up since last we spoke. It wasn't until I spoke to her that I found out she thought you were Will. She should really start paying closer attention to her surroundings. You are nothing like Will. You're so . . . innocent. And much more handsome." She scooted closer, scattering cushions. "I don't . . ." "Really, Will used to be such an adorable little puppy. Now he's . . . well, he's far too independent." She was almost in his lap by now. "Um, I really don't think I'm your type." "Nonsense. You're absolutely delicious. And a time traveller. Primitive humans always intrigue me . . . " She had hold of his uniform now and was pulling his tunic tails out of his trousers. He grabbed after them, trying to retrieve them and put them back where they belonged. "I think you want to talk to my friend Al . . . I think you'd like him much better." She paused, considering. "Well, maybe later. I can see him in your head, you know." She resumed her attack. "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay out of my head, please." He tried to wriggle away, but she had backed him into the couch, and there was no place for him to go. "I think you'd better start trying to get her out of your pants." Sam was somewhat relieved to hear Al's voice. He had missed the sound of the Imaging Chamber door opening, mostly because Lwaxana's tongue was in his ear. "She looks dangerous. . . . Oh, my God! Who's the blue guy?" "Mr. Homm," Sam said. "Oh, he won't help you. Don't even bother. He loves this kind of thing." "Oh, great," Sam muttered. Lwaxana had her arms up his shirt and was doing very strange things to his chest hair. "Please . . . Do you mind?" He was afraid he was going to hurt her if he was too insistent, but he was also afraid she was going to hurt him. Suddenly she sat back, looking at him with a wounded expression. "What's wrong? I thought all twentieth century human males were sex-crazed primitives." "Boy, you've got him figured wrong," Al said. Sam tried to re-shevel his disheveled uniform. "Well, a lot of them are. I happen not to be one of them." Lwaxana snorted. "Just my luck. Well. I apologize. Have a pastry." Sam straightened his hair and took a pastry from the plate. It was sticky and didn't appeal to him particularly, but he was hungry and he didn't want to upset Lwaxana any more than was necessary to preserve his own virtue. Al was studying Lwaxana closely. "Interesting woman. Who is she?" "Mrs. Troi," Sam started. "This is Deanna's mom? You're kidding." "Mrs. Troi," Sam went on, "you said you know why I'm here?" "She knows why you're here? This should be interesting." "Yes, I think I do." She had done a quick mood swing and was now lolling happily in the cushions, munching on an almond- covered sweet roll. "Now. While I was trespassing in your mind, I discovered that you usually pass from time to time after correcting something that is wrong in someone's life, correct?" Sam glanced at Al, who was standing with his mouth hanging open. "Yes, that's usually the way it works." "Well, then, it can't be a coincidence that you've leaped into Will. I mean, after all, this thing with him and Deanna has been going on forever and the two of them just refuse to resolve it." "What thing?" "Well, one week they're on, the next they're off . . . She's in love with him, and he's in love with her, and I don't understand this whole staying away from someone you serve with nonsense they've concocted. It's just keeping them confused about what they really want." "And what is it they really want?" "Well, each other, of course." "So you think I'm here to get Will and Deanna together once and for all." "Of course. It makes perfect sense." Al shrugged. "Well, it's worth a shot. See what you can do to get out of here, Sam. I need to update you on the latest with Ziggy." Sam laid his pastry back down on the plate. "Listen, Mrs. Troi, I appreciate your hospitality and all, but I really think I should go. Thanks for the advice." "Oh, you're welcome." She stood as he did, looking at him wistfully. "Are you sure you're not interested?" "Not just now, thanks." "Maybe later?" "Probably not." "Oh, well. Best of luck." "Thanks." He beat a hasty retreat out the door. Al popped in next to him as the door slid shut. "She was reading your mind?" "Yeah," Sam muttered. "She's full Betazoid. She's telepathic." "This is a really scary place to be." "You're telling me. What's up with Ziggy?" "Ziggy has apparently lost his mind. Remember the backup network you built in case of power failures, or viruses, stuff like that?" "No." "Well, anyway, there's this network of directories and files and subdirectories and all this stuff that Ziggy can access in case his main memory goes down. Well, he's taken control of this network, and we can't get into it until he lets us." "And that's where the files are that Data put in." "Apparently. He's also using it to increase the amount of power he's getting. Which is why nothing's happened until now, cause last week we installed this big power booster generator thing so we can communicate with you a little better. He's tapped into that, and he's using it to keep me in touch with you, and to leap you around." "Ziggy's leaping me around?" "That's what it looks like. He has routines that can control it now, thanks to Data." They had reached Riker's quarters by then. Sam went in and Al walked through the door as it slid shut on him. "But Ziggy's never been in control of the leaps before. No one has." "Well, he has to a certain extent. He's just increased that by about a thousand times." "So he's putting me where he wants me. So why did he put me here?" "I don't know." Sam sat down, reflecting. "Maybe . . . maybe if I go ahead and correct this Will and Deanna situation, whatever has been leaping me around in the past will override Ziggy's control and leap me out of here." "It's possible. In fact, it's about the only thing we can try right now, so I say go for it." "Yeah, okay. I'll do what I can." "And stay away from that woman. She could put you in the hospital." "Yeah, no kidding." Al poked the handlink and disappeared. Sam set about looking for some supper. **** "No. No, absolutely not. Go back right now and tell him to stop whatever it is he's doing." Verbena laid a hand on Will's arm. "It's all right, Will. Sam's only doing what he thinks is best." "Well, he's wrong. Where in the world did you get the idea that my relationship with Deanna needed fixing?" "From Deanna's mother," Al said. "Oh, no. Not her." Riker fell into a chair behind Gooshie's desk. He had been inspecting the terminal they'd been using to access Ziggy when Al had returned with his news. "Don't listen to anything that woman says. She's always causing trouble." "Yeah, she just about got Sam into some big trouble," Al said. "She had her hands up inside . . ." Verbena put a finger to her lips. Donna was approaching from behind them. Hastily, Al snubbed out his cigar. Riker looked up, showing an immediate spark of interest. He stood, extending his hand. "Hello," he said. "I'm Commander William Riker." Donna hesitated. She didn't like meeting leapees. Al knew how difficult it was for her, seeing Sam's face, hearing his voice and knowing it wasn't him. Finally she took Riker's hand. "Dr. Donna Alessi," she said quietly. Her lips were pale. "Where's Gooshie?" "He's eating," Al said, "what else?" "I've got to go find him. If you'll excuse me." She turned, then suddenly she was grabbing the nearest chair as her legs buckled under her. Al jumped for her, but somehow Riker got to her first. "Are you all right?" "I don't know. Verbena . . .?" Verbena disengaged her from Riker's arms. "It's all right, Donna. Come on, let's take a look at you." Gently, she guided Donna away. Al gave Riker a glare that could melt glass. "What? What did I do?" "You haven't looked in a mirror?" Al snapped. "No, I haven't. Why should I?" Given the immaculate condition of Riker's hair, Al found that hard to believe. Or maybe they had futuristic super heavy duty Brylcreem in the 24th century. He looked furiously around the room, trying to find a reflective surface. Finally he pointed to the computer terminal. "Look in there. That's good enough." Riker looked. His eyes came back up to Al full of confusion. "That's not me. That's . . . that's Beckett, isn't it?" "Yes, it is. You're wearing his aura, just like he's wearing yours. You look like him, he looks like you. So please try to be a little more discreet around Dr. Alessi, all right?" "What's so damn special about her?" "She's Mrs. Beckett, that's what's so damn special. And she doesn't need you acting all nicey-nicey to her wearing her husband's face. All right?" Riker looked chagrined. "Yeah, all right. I'm sorry. I didn't know." "Yeah, you didn't know." Al was working up a severe state of annoyance. "Listen, Commander. I knew a Commander Riker in the navy, and I didn't like him and I don't like you. I know your type. You're on the make every minute. Every skirt you see is an opportunity to hop in the sack. Well, you'd better watch your step here, you nozzle, because I've got my eye on you." Riker crossed his arms indignantly. "Oh, you know my type, do you? And what makes you so sure I'm that type?" "Cause _I'm_ that type. So watch it. I know you better than you think." Surprisingly, Riker laughed. "Okay, okay. Who's off-limits and who's not?" Al covered his surprised at Riker's retreat by relighting his cigar. "Well, Donna you know about. Tina -- now, Tina's mine, so hands off." "All right, all right. I haven't even met Tina yet." "Well, if I have my way, you won't." "What about Verbena?" "Verbena? Yeah, Verbena's single. She's probably not interested, though." "Oh, I don't know about that." Al nearly choked. "You're making time with Verbena?" Riker shrugged. "Hey, she's a very beautiful woman." "Yeah, but she's so . . . tall. And when I had the flu a month ago she told me she was going to put an African Zulu curse on me if I tried to look down her shirt again while she was stirring my chicken soup." "Well, I like a challenge." "I guess you do." Al couldn't help but feel a little respect for the man. "Listen, about that tentacles thing . . ." "No, I've never been with a woman with tentacles." He hesitated. "But if you'll sit down and be sociable for a minute I'll tell you about the twins with six breasts. Each." Al stared. "Oh, yumola." **** Via merciless interrogation of the ship's computer on how to use the replicator, Sam managed to acquire a decent meal, as well as a fresh flower arrangement and a card. He wrote a note to Deanna, asking her to come see him after she was finished with dinner, and left the flowers in her quarters. Now there was nothing to do but wait. Upon inquiry, the computer informed him that Riker had a wide selection of music Sam could access to amuse himself. On a whim, Sam asked for "Man of La Mancha." The computer complied with a version Sam was not familiar with. A recent production, he assumed, from a 24th century company. They were passable, though Sam was unreasonably attached to the version he and Al had listened to in the old days, drawing schematics for Ziggy and pretending they knew what they were doing. The door chirped, appropriately, in the middle of "Dulcinea." "Come in," Sam called. Deanna stepped in with a bemused smile. She was wearing an understatedly elegant dark blue gown with a gauzy, flowing skirt and a deep neckline. "Good evening, Will," she said. "The flowers were lovely." Sam smiled warmly. He had to admit he didn't have any particular objections to cozying up with this woman. Her exotic beauty reminded him of Tamlyn, and something else about her reminded him of . . . somebody. The memory tugged teasingly, then disappeared. "I'm glad you liked them." "So . . . what did you want to see me about?" She crossed the room to sit down across from him. The gown shimmered prettily on her as she moved. Sam felt suddenly nervous. Deanna frowned. "What's wrong?" "Well, it's just . . . I've been thinking . . . about us. I just . . . I wonder sometimes if we've made the right decision." Deanna leaned back in the chair, starting to look a little wary. "We've been through this before, Will. You and I both know that we can't sustain a relationship under these conditions." "Under what conditions, then? If we wait until we're not on the same ship, we could end up on different planets. What kind of a relationship would that be?" That argument obviously struck home somewhere. She lowered her eyes, studying her hands. Sam quietly stood and went to sit next to her. Gently, he took her hands in his. "I care about you, Deanna. I don't want to grow old wondering what could have been." She shrugged a little, started to look up and then turned away again. The mistiness in her eyes made Sam's throat ache. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. What would Al do? he thought, and in the back of his mind he heard Al saying, "Actions speak louder than words, Sam." So he kissed her. The moment their lips met, Sam realized he had wanted to do this since he had first laid eyes on her in the last leap. He pulled her closer. She had a wonderful, spicy smell. Perfume or skin, Sam wasn't sure. He didn't care. Vaguely, he heard the Imaging Chamber door, but Al was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. "Sam! Guess what . . . Oh, you're busy." Deanna's arms slipped around him, her body nestling to his, then suddenly she was disengaging, pushing him away. Sam was dismayed to see that the tears had materialized and were rolling down her face. "Deanna, what's wrong?" "This is . . . this isn't right. It's too fast . . . " She stood up, rubbing at her eyes, and turned away from him. Sam looked desperately to Al, who shrugged. "Riker says he doesn't think we should be messing with this. He says he thinks their relationship is just fine." "Oh, great," Sam muttered. "Why didn't you tell me before?" Deanna wheeled on him. "You didn't bother to ask, did you?" Sam did a double take, realizing what he'd said. "No, Deanna, I didn't mean . . ." "Then what did you mean?" "I just . . ." He stopped. "Listen, Deanna, I'm sorry. Let's just pretend this never happened, okay?" "I don't know, Will." "Sam," Al went on. "Riker could be wrong, but he doesn't think you should be doing this." "Well then what am I supposed to do?" Yet another faux pas. Deanna stiffened, mouth tight. "I don't know, Will. Why don't you go ask Ro Laren." With that, she stormed out the door. "Oh, great," Sam said. "This is really going well." "It was a good idea. It may still be a good idea. Even if it is a good idea, it may not work." "Why? What have you found out about Ziggy?" "Nothing. Riker took a look, but he says the operating systems they use are so much different from ours that he can't figure out what's going on. He thinks Geordi or Data could help, though." "Well, obviously Data could help, but it doesn't do much good when he's four hundred years in the future. We can't beam him down to help." "Maybe you could leap into him. Then he'd be back at the project." "I can't leap into an android." "How do you know?" "There's no way. Data isn't even human." "Neither was Bobo, and you leaped into him." "Bobo was a chimp. There's a high percentage of genetic similarity. Data's a . . . machine. I couldn't leap into him anymore than I could leap into a refrigerator." "Well, maybe we'll have to shoot for Geordi, then. Or maybe you should just go talk to him. He knows who you are, after all. Remember? He can see you." "Yeah, that might be worth a try . . ." He broke off suddenly. "Sam, what's wrong?" "I'm going to leap." "What? Now?" "Yeah. Now." He turned to Al and stared helplessly as his surroundings blurred and disappeared . . . And reformed again. He was in a bright room, surrounded by lights and the sounds of machinery. He was slightly bent over, and had a round instrument in one hand. In front of him sat a young black man, obviously blind. The instrument in Sam's hand was pointed at a glowing red implant in the man's temple. Sam blinked. The man was Geordi LaForge. "Oh, boy," said Sam.