A Sliders / Quantum Leap Crossover Fan Fic
by Ashe P. Kirk
Full Transcript (21.6K words)
Earth Prime
September 27, 1994
John leaned against the wall just outside the lecture hall, busily tapping at his handlink. Around him, students walked the corridors, largely ignoring his presence. Beside him, on the floor, was a briefcase.
Any minute now.
He looked up from the device and folded his arms, scanning the faces in the crowd. A fascinated smile crept to his face as he spotted his target.
Quinn strode towards him, wearing a cocky grin. He was dressed smarter than John was used to. John pocketed the handlink, and looked away as the 21-year-old approached. His eyes fell on John for just a moment, before flicking away without a hint of recognition.
Must be him.
As Nexus Quinn entered the lecture hall, letting the door swing shut behind him, John picked up his briefcase and sidled up to the door. Inside the hall, he could hear Quinn making a scene in front of Professor Arturo.
He ventured a peek through the window in the door. The room was littered with students watching the volley of insults, with varying levels of disbelief.
Nexus Quinn was bold, loud, and assertive – attributes also belonging to Arturo, which he didn’t appreciate having thrown back at him. John stifled a laugh. He couldn’t quite hear what the guy was saying, but Quinn’s account of what it may have been in the notebook was enough to know that the term ‘pompous windbag’ was used.
There was a short back-and-forth between Nexus Quinn and Arturo, and it sounded heated. Then, the door handle moved, and John manoeuvred himself into the doorway. Quinn walked right into him, and he let his briefcase slip from his hands, where it spilled out onto the floor.
“Oh! Sorry man,” Quinn said, and leaned over to recover the bag and papers.
Well, at least he’s not a total jerk.
John quickly passed the handlink over the distracted Quinn, until the display turned green. He pocketed the device, before Quinn handed him his briefcase. They exchanged eye contact for a moment, as Quinn seemed to be deciding whether or not he knew John, and then he strode away, towards the exit.
John leaned into the room, where Arturo met his eye, and he gave a quick wink. The red-faced Arturo’s seething expression softened, and he nodded back.
It was difficult to let Nexus Quinn go, knowing what was to come, but the double was an important part of the first Quinn’s origins, so there was little he could alter at this point. But now they at least had his unique quantum signature, and could use it to pinpoint his home dimension.
John hummed cheerfully as he entered his office, and sat down at his desk. He opened the top desk drawer and moved the false bottom out of it before placing a hand on the Higgins panel within. It lit up, and the chalkboard on the wall ever-so-slightly protruded forward. After putting his desk back into place, he moved to the board and pulled on the chalkboard ledge. The board swung open, and he climbed inside, pulling it shut behind him.
The elevator descended, as John tapped against the wall, still humming. When he reached the facility, and the doors slid open, he burst out with a giddy grin.
“Morning!” he called out to the room of his esteemed colleagues, who seemed not nearly as excited as he.
Deflated, he wandered into the control room, where Will Arturo tapped at a keyboard. The thirty-year-old son of the Professor had thick, dark hair down to his shoulders, and stubble.
“It’s the big day, Will,” he prompted. Will looked up at him through dark-ringed eyes.
“The big day where my Dad jumps in a vortex and may never return, you mean?”
John frowned, and felt very suddenly guilty about his chipper mood. “Yeah, I guess it is, huh?”
Will sighed, changing the subject. “You got the scan?”
John nodded. “Already in the data banks.”
“Great,” Will replied, giving him a weak smile through his sad eyes, before turning back to his computer. “I’ll set up the triangulation. Gotta warn you, it may be months – or even years – before Higgins zeroes in on the right Earth.”
“Well, we’ve got four years, tops,” John said, and gave Will a pat on the back. “There are only a handful of people I would count on to do this, you know.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he mumbled, as he began entering commands.
In his pocket, he felt his handlink vibrate. He pulled it out, and glanced at the screen.
Retrieval in 5 minutes.
He broke away from Will. “Excuse me, I’ve gotta see Sherri.”
He hurried deeper into the facility, through the Higgins mainframe, and into the Imaging Chamber.
As he stepped through the door, the hologram came into view.
“There you are.” Sherri sat on the lid of a toilet, in a hotel bathroom, looking displeased. “There’s a sex-starved newlywed outside this room that I’d rather not have to reject.”
“Sorry,” John said, “I was getting the scan on Nexus Quinn.”
At this, her eyes lit up. “That’s today?”
John nodded. “That’s right. We’re pulling you out in a couple minutes, so just sit tight.”
Sherri nodded, giving him a sad smile. “I can’t believe this’ll be the last we see of them.”
“If we do our jobs, we’ll see them again,” said John, before looking down at the handlink to see the retrieval progress.
A few thumps came on the door.
“Amanda! What are you even doing in there?”
John chuckled. “Sorry for putting you in this situation, Sherri.”
Sherri rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Missus Amanda Fairchild will be happy to find herself already married. Do you think she’ll remember the ceremony?”
“According to our records, each leapee is usually able to recall the significant beats of your actions while replacing them, but not the finer details. Though it appears to vary wildly from person to person.”
As Sherri tilted her head to consider this, John’s handlink chimed. He looked down at it.
“Okay, here we go.”
As Sherri began to crackle with electricity, the holographic projection winked out of John’s view, and he found himself back in the empty, all-white Imaging Chamber.
* * *
Earth Prime
February 2, 1998
Sherri tensed up as she found herself in a seated position, her mind cleared of whatever had been in it a moment ago.
Her racing heart relaxed as she glanced around. She was reclined on a leather sofa, in a room that had long been arranged to mimic a standard hotel suite. Their facility’s Waiting Room.
Okay. Now. Where did I just come from?
“Welcome back!” John called out.
As John hurried in the door, she stood to greet him. The pair hugged – it was a rare chance that they could do such a thing – and she noted the forlorn look in his eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, her mind struggling to figure it out for herself. John chuckled, patting her on the shoulder.
“Must be nice to clear your working memory like that,” he said bitterly, and straightened, giving a command: “Begin your Remembrance Protocol, Beckett.”
Right.
The ‘Remembrance Protocol for Post-Retrieval Amnesia’ was the counterpart to her ‘Leap-In Protocol,’ the checklist she ran through her mind at the beginning of each leap. After each retrieval, her leaps would fade like a dream, only to resurface days later in her long-term memory after something in her day-to-day that reminded her. It had been a tricky thing when she’d first started out. Of course, John was able to jog her memory a lot of the time, but they figured it was important to give her some exercises to jog her own memory, just in case. The trick was to hang on to one image through the retrieval process that would be an entry point into the buried memory, like bait on a fish hook into the pool of her subconscious.
Point One: Find the image.
She reached into the emptiness for a fleeting image, and grasped it as it threatened to slip away. A small child. A young boy watching a purple dinosaur video tape, named Cory. A blonde woman in the mirror. A nanny, and…
Right. I was Stephanie. The nanny was Wade, and she was having an affair with… Quinn.
Point Two: What was the mission?
She thought about the Quinn she had been married to. Nexus Quinn. Her heart jumped as she realised it had been the mission. The number one, all-important mission that was the primary reason behind this project in the first place.
Point Three: Was the mission successful?
She ran through the leap in her mind, each moment dragging the next out of her memory banks. And she realised her failure. He’d been far more observant than the average person, and had pieced together things that most would have not even noticed, let alone considered red flags. And it had led to him losing trust and fleeing to another Earth. She hoped it hadn’t been the Kromagg world.
Her shoulders dropped as the weight of what happened fell upon her, and she slammed her fist into the couch seat.
John’s lips formed a sympathetic frown, as he watched her recall.
“Dammit,” she said. “What an unmitigated disaster. So what’s the plan now?”
John turned to lead her out of the room.
“Well, first, we both get some rest,” he said, rubbing his eyes as if to demonstrate his exhaustion. “We have a few months of wiggle room to send you back, but obviously we don’t want to wait any longer than we need to, in case something else goes wrong.”
Sherri nodded, as they traversed the aisles of computer cabinets.
“You’re not going to leap me into Wade next, I hope.”
John snorted. “No… I think two leaper versions of you meeting may cause a recursion error in the multiverse,” he said.
“That sounds fake,” Sherri laughed.
“Okay, I just made that up,” he said, flashing her a playful grin. “But, I don’t know what would happen, so we’re just going to steer clear of that possibility. Besides, there’s only so much control we have from here. We just send you with some coordinates and a frustratingly loose time window, and hope that you end up where you need to be.”
“Yeah, I know,” she sighed. “God or whatever, right?”
She looked at him with disdain, as he gave an affirmative tilt of his head.
“Well, that’s what my counterpart described to me. The ‘god of the gaps’ argument is not my favourite explanation for the unknowns of existence, of course. I’d love to identify what’s really doing it. You ever seen Next Gen?”
Sherri crossed her arms. “Where is this going?”
“Well, maybe it’s like Q,” he mused. “Something like that?”
“Saying it’s a powerful alien being doesn’t explain anything more than just saying ‘God,’ you know,” she said, exasperated, as the pair entered the control room.
Her eyes met Will, sitting at his terminal, and he gave her a wave. Since 1994, he’d become decidedly less hairy, opting for a shorter cut and clean-shaven face. But he still wore dark circles under his eyes. Sherri wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen him relax.
“Welcome back,” he said brightly, before turning subdued. “Sorry it didn’t go so well.”
“We’re not licked yet,” Sherri said, forcing a smile.
“That’s right,” John chimed in, and turned to address all the staff there. “Let’s take a few days break, and be back fresh next week. Need you all at the top of your game if we’re going to make this intercept. So wrap it up for now, everyone.”
He turned to Sherri. “Let’s go get some dinner, okay?”
Sherri, though tired, was decidedly more hungry than anything.
“Let’s.”
Project Quantum Leap
December 4, 2002
“Good morning, Ziggy,” Quinn said cheerfully, as he entered the mainframe room, and peered up at the glowing blue ball that stored the supercomputer’s consciousness. He carried in his arms a large, very heavy device that had taken way too long to build. The plans John had left him were extensive, but boy had it taken time to get right. A whole year, in fact. And that was even as he bounced ideas off Colin and Sammy Jo, who was a woman that had been assigned as his liaison between himself and the Project.
The group had not been permitted entrance into the Stallions Gate facility until after the Maggie of ’99 had already been an unwilling guest there in 2002. Ziggy’s orders.
But, now that Sam was on 1978 Earth Prime, and days from attempting his return, Ziggy had finally granted access to the Project. He’d spent the last few days familiarising himself with the hardware, under the watchful eyes of the little man named Gooshie and the high-voiced Tina. And now he was finally here to get Higgins hooked up.
“Good morning, Quinn. Have you come to… rearrange my wires today?”
Ziggy had some personality on her. He’d been floored at her greeting when he had first met her: “Ah. Mister Quinn Mallory has ventured to slide into my mainframe. If you satisfy me, I’ll let you do it again.”
Given what he knew about Sam, for him to have built so raunchy a computer was endlessly amusing to Quinn.
“I’m just preparing Higgins for interfacing,” he said, placing the device against the wall. He looked up at the glowing sphere, smirking. “I’m afraid he’s a little less… feisty… than you.”
“I don’t mind being the dominant one in a relationship,” Ziggy replied.
Quinn ignored the comment, and continued: “Now, you’re gonna find that Higgins has a lot of variations on your code that serve essentially the same function. I’m counting on you to decide which to assimilate and which to reject.”
He began arranging cables from Ziggy’s panels to what was essentially a reader for the quartz crystals.
“I’d recommend looking closely at the retrieval routines,” he said, fastening connections. “The other Doc Beckett seemed to put significant work into them, and they’re proven to work.”
“Quinn, you’re so gentle with my parallel buses.”
Quinn snorted. “Does this whole place just speak in innuendo all the time?”
“I believe Admiral Calavicci throws in the occasional double entendre, too.”
Quinn shook his head, chuckling, as he approached the reader.
“Okay, Ziggy. Prepare to meet your counterpart.”
He turned the machine on, and it began to whir. Ziggy’s orb grew in brilliance, as the blue lights under each crystal set into the reader started blinking rapidly.
“Oh, Higgins! Where have you been all my life?”
Quinn grinned. “I’ll leave you two to your… interfacing.”
He dusted off his hands, and wandered out into the Project lobby, where Colin was waiting with Al.
“Okay, Higgins is hooked up,” he confirmed. “Could be a day or two before Ziggy’s done integrating him into her systems.”
He exchanged a quick fist bump with Colin.
“It’s been a while,” he said, “But we finally did it.”
“Bang-up job, you two,” said Al. “With any luck, we can get a retrieval started when Sam comes through in a few days.”
Quinn nodded. “I have a good feeling about it.”
* * *
Project Quantum Leap
December 7, 2002
(Immediately after the final scene of Quinntum Leap: Part 2)
It was the hug Sam had been wishing for all these years. He and Al hadn’t been able to make any sort of physical contact, despite being in near constant communication, since he’d left over seven years ago. But now he was home, and the pair had their arms around each other so tight that he wasn’t sure if either of them dared to let go. It felt to Sam like if he let go, Al might slip away into a hologram again, and disappear into a glowing doorway.
“I had no idea what was going to happen there,” Sam told his friend. “You never told me you were trying a retrieval.”
The embrace loosened enough for the friends to make eye contact, though Sam still had a tight grasp on Al’s arms, making sure he was still corporeal.
“Sure we did,” said Al. “Our retrieval algorithms were part of the effort to get your new pals back to 1999. We just… took it a step further. Nabbed you mid-leap. We didn’t know if it’d work, but after what you told me, we thought it was the best possible chance we had.”
“What I told you… oh, that I needed a break?”
“Bingo.”
Sam wiped a tear from his eye.
Yeah. This isn’t going to be forever.
Something in his gut knew that his work wasn’t finished. But whatever time he had here, he was going to make the most of.
His attention moved to Colin, still peeking in the doorway. It was definitely him, but he was a little older, his hair was different; more of a modern style. He was grinning back with enthusiastic, shining eyes that matched those of his brother.
There must have been quite a story behind his presence, and he couldn’t wait to hear it. However, there was much to do first. Colin’s eyes flicked to the side, heralding the approach of more people to greet Sam.
First came Gooshie, then Tina, then Verbena, and just behind her appeared a face that made him stumble back, finally breaking his physical contact with Al.
“Donna…”
For a moment, he was frozen, seeing all these people he loved, and not knowing who to go to first, but as his memories returned, he knew he had to hold his wife.
Unlike the last reunion, when he was carrying a hefty chunk of Al’s libido, he didn’t go straight in for a kiss, but he did throw his arms around her, tears flowing freely as he admonished himself for forgetting her again. Why did she have to be the only major person in his life who refused to stick in his brain?
“I missed you, Sam,” Donna murmured. Sam, in truth, couldn’t say the same; a realisation that broke his heart.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could find to say in reply.
Earth Prime
February 2, 1998
The diner was packed with kids. Or, at least, John viewed them as such. Being just a block from campus, it was generally one of the go-to establishments for students to dine, which usually was a reason for John to avoid going there. He wasn’t sure why Sherri had directed the two of them here, but he felt like they stuck out among the late teens and twenty-somethings around them.
And since he’d taken permanent hiatus from his teaching to focus on his work at Project Long Jump, he hadn’t so much as spent time around people of this undercooked age.
The two of them sat in a small booth towards the back. Sherri’s eyes were on the door to the kitchen, just behind the counter, and they had barely looked away since they’d arrived.
“Okay,” said John, lacing his fingers together, and leaning forward. “What’s goin’ on, Sherri?”
Her eyes moved to him for a moment, before turning back, and she gave him an enigmatic smile.
“It’s probably time, I think,” she said.
“Time for what?” He narrowed his eyes.
She nodded towards her eyeline, and he followed it. The door to the kitchen had opened, and Colin Mallory came out, wearing an apron and hairnet. John felt his jaw slacken at the sight of his old student.
“Colin’s original history has been altered. A lot,” said Sherri. “He needs a hand getting to the right place, at the right time.”
“There wasn’t anything in the notes about that,” John said, scratching the side of his neck. He watched Colin standing at a table, writing down an order on his notepad.
Sherri nodded. “I know. But do you remember I told you about that… experience… I had, when my brain was still entangled with the other Maggie?”
John gave her a look, amused that she would even have to ask. “Do I remember the whole reason you stayed here? Of course I do.”
“Of course you do,” she repeated, chuckling. “Stupid question.”
She leaned toward him, placing a hand on the table. “Anyway, it was in this diner.” She knocked on the table.
“I’d never seen this diner before, and I highly doubt the other Maggie had either. And we certainly hadn’t seen Colin looking like that.” She pointed a thumb at Colin, who was now at a milkshake mixer, holding a steel cup to it. “So when I came across this place after the vision, I knew it was significant. Lo and behold, Colin started working here back in ’93.”
John nodded slowly. “And you said you met a future version of yourself here?”
“She looked just like me, but twenty years older.” Sherri said, and passed a hand over her face. “Just like this.”
“Well, I don’t see the younger versions of you here,” John said, trying to work out where this conversation was headed.
“I don’t think I was in the literal future,” Sherri said, and gazed at the ceiling, squinting. “What were the words she used…? Something about… temporal flux points? Construct?”
John nodded slowly, his mind piecing things together. After a moment, he grabbed two napkins. He placed one on the table, and held the other up, tearing it almost in half.
“The machine pulled half of you through a wormhole while your atoms were converted temporarily into a fourth dimensional energy state, and then the separation process remained incomplete for those few hours afterwards.”
He waved a finger over the section of napkin that was still attached. “So your mind was a convergence point of two different universes, two different timelines. But because you were also displaced in time, your brain’s extra-temporal state was also trying to reconcile the changes that were happening around you in realtime, such as with Colin. Those would be the ‘temporal flux points,’ I assume.”
On the untouched napkin, he drew a line that diverged into numerous branches. “It’s possible that in that state, you were capable of seeing varied timelines branching from your current point, and your mind created a construct based on one of the possible outcomes.”
He met her eye. “Did that make sense?”
Sherri grinned. “I’ll take your word for it.”
He crumpled up the napkins, sharing a smile with her.
“Hey there, what can I get— Doc Beckett?”
John looked up to see Colin standing at the table, notepad and pen at the ready. His eyes were wide and eyebrows high, as he looked at his old professor.
“Colin, it’s been a while, huh?” John looked up at him with a bittersweet expression.
Colin’s notepad drifted downward. “Where have you been all this time? I haven’t seen you since… well, you know.”
John scratched the back of his head. “It’s… it’s a long story. How are you doing, Colin?”
Colin’s eyes fell to his feet. “Oh, you know. One day at a time. It’s been years and I still feel like Quinn’s gonna just show up some day. It’s been especially hard on Mom.”
Poor kid.
“Yeah, I know how it is. You wanna talk about it?”
Colin glanced at the clock on the wall.
“I finish up in ten minutes,” he said.
“Well, when you do, take a seat with us, okay?”
Colin nodded. “Okay.”
Colin looked at Sherri, seemingly noticing her presence for the first time. “Oh, hi. Are you two…?”
Sherri laughed. “No, no. I’m Sam’s… cousin. Sherri.” She held out a hand, and Colin shook it. “He’s told me a lot about you and Quinn.”
She leaned in, and whispered: “You’re his favourite students.” She winked, and gave him a broad grin. Colin responded with a bashful glance at John.
John gave him a confirming nod. “Don’t let my other former students know, but… she’s not wrong.”
Colin’s cheeks were going rosy, and he composed himself, lifting the notepad. “Anyway, what can I get you?”
“Just a couple of cheeseburgers and a bowl of fries will do us,” John replied. “Hold the pickle on Sherri’s.”
He winked at her, and she nodded with approval.
Colin jotted down the order, nodded, and hurried away to fill out the remainder of his shift.
“So what do you think we need to do for him?” John asked.
Sherri rested her chin in her palms. “I’m not so sure of the exact original history, but I know that he needs to start travelling with Quinn and the others sometime after the invasion. We just need to get him in a position where that happens. He was originally on a different world until Quinn tracked him down. Maybe this time he needs to track them down.”
Track them down. John stroked his chin.
“I believe in a month or so, two of Quinn’s companions are due back on our Earth. Rembrandt and…” he chuckled. “Wade Welles.”
Sherri smirked as John brushed aside the images he now associated with that name and face.
“It’ll mark about three months until the invasion,” he continued. “In the event we – God forbid – fail, it might be a good idea to get them off-world, to Quinn, before they’re captured. And send Colin with them.”
He gave a resolute nod. “Okay, I think that’ll work. Higgins can generate a tracking algorithm for Quinn’s quantum signature, and I’ll retrofit his sliding tech to get Colin on his tail when the time comes.”
Sherri smiled. “I’m glad you stayed here with me, John.”
John placed an arm around her. “Can’t imagine anywhere I’d rather be.”
* * *
San Antonio, New Mexico
December 8, 2002
Sam couldn’t imagine anywhere he would rather have been, as he tickled the ivories at a cosy tavern, surrounded by his friends. It had been an overwhelming 24 hours, filled with heartfelt greetings, medical checkups, extensive debriefings, and a psychological assessment from Verbena. But now, he was finally able to just enjoy the company of the people he loved.
As his song came to a close, he leaned back, stretching.
“I remember you playing that in 1978,” Colin said as he leaned on the piano, beer in hand. “Billy Joel, right?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Sam, and stood to meet Colin’s towering height. He looked curiously at the man. “Colin, you’re… different.”
Colin gave him an amused look. “You noticed that, huh? That’s interesting.”
He sipped his drink, thoughtful. “I altered my history kind of a lot, so the quirks I used to have in my speech were… overwritten, I guess is the word for it.”
As it occurred to Sam what Colin meant by that, his mouth broke out in a grin. “So you really did it, huh?”
Colin peeked out over the rim of the beer glass, and nodded. He pulled it away from his mouth, setting it on the top of the piano.
“I guess that bartender was right: I am the same in here,” he said, hand on heart. “At least, I think so?”
Sam gently put his own hand over Colin’s heart. “Absolutely.”
They shared a meaningful look, before a question came to Sam.
“What was that thing you were holding when I leaped in?” he mimed holding an eyeglass to his face.
Colin grinned. “Remember when Quinn was doing those tests on you, and then made the distortion detector?”
“Sure, how could I forget being poked and prodded?” Sam said wryly.
“Well, it was at that point that he got it into his head to develop a device that would let him see through the illusion… without the headache.”
He reached into his pocket, producing the telescopic gizmo. He pulled it open, and handed it to Sam.
“It’s called a Reality Lens.”
It had the hallmarks of Quinn’s ramshackle creations, made with scrap parts. It looked to have been adapted from an old monocular scope, with a small box attached full of circuitry, and the eye lens had been replaced by an advanced electronic display. Sam was impressed, once again, at the ingenuity.
“Quinn made this?” Sam asked.
“Nope! I did.” Colin was looking proudly at his creation. “Quinn had other things to do, which I’m sure he can’t wait to show you.”
“How did you configure it? I wasn’t around to test on.”
He handed the Reality Lens back to Colin, who folded it up and put it back in his pocket.
“We’ve been here three years, Doc,” he said. “We weren’t allowed into your facility for most of it, so Sammy Jo tested it out in the Waiting Room and helped me get a perfect picture.”
Sam’s breath caught. “Sa— did you say, ‘Sammy Jo?’”
“Yeah,” said Colin, “She was our main contact before we were allowed down there.”
I guess Donna wasn’t the only one I forgot.
Sam bit his lip. “I… need to see her.”
“Well I don’t know where she is now, but why don’t you swing by our little operation tomorrow? It’s just the nondescript warehouse-looking building about a mile south of here. Sign out the front says ‘Holbrook Systems;’ meaningless cover name. Sammy’s due there in the morning.”
Colin crossed his arms. “And… we can tell you all about why we ended up here. It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’ll bet it is,” mused Sam, as he made eye contact with Al across the room. Al beckoned him over, and Sam held up a finger in response.
He leaned towards Colin. “You see him there, right?”
“Who, Al?”
Sam gave him a sheepish look. “I have to get used to talking to him more openly, y’know? Now that he’s… really there.”
He almost felt sad that he’d only have to go to the bathroom to answer nature’s call.
The roller door of the warehouse slowly ascended, revealing Sam’s presence from the feet up. When it was finally high enough for the tall man to pass under it, Quinn leaned over, and met Sam’s eye as he stepped inside.
“Good morning,” he said, with a wide grin. Sam placed his hand on Quinn’s shoulder.
“Good to see you again,” he said, in a most sincere tone.
Quinn struggled to separate his recently altered memories of the Earth Prime version of Sam from what he could recall from his experience with this version. It wasn’t easy; the new timeline had provided him with a long history with the double, starting from age eleven. But he knew that none of that had happened for this Sam, nor Quinn himself the last time they had seen one another, not technically.
Boy, time travel is a headache. Hope that’s the last I need to do of it.
“Come on,” he said, leading Sam through the plain-looking warehouse. “We’re a little less fancy here than the Project, but there’s only the four of us.”
He glanced back. “Well, plus Sammy Jo, and the army guys monitoring the CCTV and audio.”
“What have you been doing here?” Sam asked, looking around at the wooden crates and forklifts.
“On this level? Nothin’; this is all front. The Committee had this set up for us after we explained what we needed to do.”
“You had to deal with them too, huh?” Sam looked like he’d just smelled something rotten.
Quinn laughed. “Yeah, they’re a bundle of sunshine, huh? Put us through the wringer. But Senator Grady seemed to have our backs. You know him?”
Sam squinted. “No… but, it’s been seven years since I last had the ‘pleasure’ of seeing them. And I think my actions in the past changed the makeup of the committee at least once. So they could be anybody at this point.” He shook his head.
It occurred to Quinn that the ripple effects of changing history could have been quite dramatic. He sure hoped whatever, or whoever, had been assigning Sam to change things was doing it responsibly.
Quinn gestured to a large steel shipping container against the far wall. “Anyway, for the fun part, we gotta go in there.”
He flashed a grin at Sam, who was eyeing the setup with guarded interest. “Remember Higgins?”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “What about him?”
Quinn felt like he was bursting with excitement to explain all of this to Sam, who’d last seen Higgins in his reverse-engineered state back in ’78.
“Just follow me,” he said, and waved a keycard over a door set into the shipping container, before pushing it open. Inside was a set of false crates, which opened up to reveal a staircase leading down.
He led Sam down, and used a fingerprint scanner to open the next door, at the base of the stairs. He held it open for Sam, who entered the corridor lit with fluorescent lights.
“There’s not a whole lot to this place,” Quinn explained. “We have two labs and the rest is basically just where we live. We’re on kind of a tight leash.”
He stopped at a door labelled simply with the number 6, and swiped his keycard. The red light on the reader flipped to green, and he pushed the door open, leading Sam into a casually laid out room, with three couches and a TV, among some other leisurely comforts.
On the couches sat Colin, Maggie, and Rembrandt, who each turned their heads towards the doorway.
“This is the common room,” Quinn said, and stood holding the door as Sam entered. He smiled warmly at everyone, as Maggie sprung from her seat and ran to him.
“Hey, Uncle Sam,” she said, giving him a tight hug. “I’m so glad they could bring you back.”
Sam leaned into the embrace. “Me too, Maggie.”
Still wrapped in the hug, he held a hand out to Rembrandt, who gave it a shake.
“Great to see you again, brother. So, you really came straight from ’78 to here?”
Sam nodded.
“I last saw you all just a couple of days ago from my perspective.” He gestured to Colin. “And I saw you on both sides of my leap, which was a little disorienting, since you’d changed so much.”
Colin looked sheepish. “Yeah, I guess that must’ve been a head trip. But it was the first chance I had to try out the Reality Lens for myself.”
He chuckled, scratching his head. “Guess all it did was confirm that there wasn’t an illusion at all, because it was the real you there.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Sam laughed.
Quinn sat on the arm of one of the couches. “So, I’m sure you’re itching to know why we came here, and why we’ve been working here for three years.”
“Correct.”
Quinn glanced towards Colin, who nodded back. “Come with us to the labs.”
* * *
There were two large rooms designated labs, which were well stocked with various electronic components and computers, but Sam was puzzled to see no particular work going on. Nothing was being built, nothing worked on.
After Quinn explained to him that he had just recently integrated Ziggy with a significantly advanced Higgins, he realised that their work in this place was more or less over with.
Quinn and Colin described what they had found when they had returned to Earth Prime; what his counterpart had built there. A project that could only possibly have come about after their visit in 1978. A combination of two technologies that wouldn’t have been developed for over fifteen more years if not for their interference.
His double’s life had certainly taken a different route to what it might have to begin with, and his niece; well, he was just glad she had finally found her purpose. And it was as noble as a purpose could get: attempting to prevent a terrible future.
But, as Quinn had explained, something had gone wrong in 1998. She failed to prevent her Earth’s destruction, and that’s why Quinn and his friends had brought Higgins here: to finish the job.
And Sam now understood that, sooner or later, the person who’d be leaping off to help would be him.
And he was okay with that.
As the three of them entered the corridor, Sam paused as he noted two people entering the facility: one, an older looking gentleman in a suit and tie, neatly styled grey hair and the physique of someone who spent most of his days seated. The other was a woman. He guessed her age to be somewhere in her thirties, with brown hair, and her face was familiar to him.
As he gawked at her, she looked back with what Sam took to be an expression of wonder.
“Ah, here she is,” said Colin.
“Sammy Jo?” Sam said, as a smile tickled at his lips.
“H-hi, Doctor Beckett,” she replied, and held a hand out to him. “I’m humbled that you know my name.”
Sam took her hand with both of his, and realised that he had no memories of her other than his brief time with her as a child, when she saw him as an old lawyer. And it seemed that she might not be aware that she was his biological daughter.
“Well, I’ve heard… good things about you,” he said, with a warm smile and lingering eye contact.
The man beside her cleared his throat, and Sammy Jo stiffened.
“Oh, right,” she said with a flustered breath, before gesturing to the man. “I’d like to introduce you to Senator Terrence Grady. He heard that you’d returned, and insisted on meeting you.”
The senator gave Sam a cheerful nod. “Doctor Beckett, I almost can’t believe my eyes.” His heavily accented voice reminded Sam of Foghorn Leghorn.
He offered his hand, which Sam accepted, and gave a forceful handshake.
“Have we met?” Sam asked through narrow eyes. He didn’t recognise the man one bit.
“We have now,” said Grady with a wink. “I was added to the Committee back in ’99, and when I heard about your work you coulda knocked me down with a feather.”
“Senator Grady has been our biggest advocate since then,” Sammy Jo explained. “He’s saved us from a few budget crunches.”
Sam’s discomfort gave way to gratitude. “Well, thank you, sir.”
Grady gave a polite nod. “Now, while I’m here, I wouldn’t mind speaking to the – what do you call yourselves? Sliders?”
“Us?” Quinn asked, surprised.
“Yes. I’d like to get a feel for how your work is going, if you need anything. I can always pull some strings to make your life easier.”
The senator strolled to the bewildered Quinn, placing a chummy arm around him. “Please, do show me around, my boy. I want to know everything that goes on here.”
Sam watched Quinn lead him back toward the labs. Colin gave a quick awkward glance before heading up the hall to join them, and Sam was left alone with Sammy Jo.
He looked at her, with facial features that combined Abigail’s with his own. It was strange, and slightly disturbing, as he thought back to his time in Potterville. What had possessed him to do such a thing, anyway? Because that was indeed how it had felt when he’d… conceived her. Like being possessed. Which held a certain irony.
All that was to say, he was unprepared for this reunion with his unlikely offspring, and he was lost for words.
“Uh… so…” he mumbled.
“So…” Sammy Jo repeated, which devolved into a nervous giggle. “I’m sorry. I’m not much of a conversationalist.”
Sam gave a weak snort. “Yeah… evidently, neither am I.”
Jeez, this is a pathetic display. Ask her something about herself.
“Uh, how did you come to work for the Project?”
Okay, that works.
“I was hired by Doctor Elesee back in ’97,” she said, her face lighting up. “Just after I published a paper on residual temporal anomalies that I subsequently learned were caused by your leaps. I had to retract the paper for national security purposes, which was a shame.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sam said. Had he inadvertently sabotaged her career?
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “Really. Being privy to the most amazing secret ever is way cooler than some academic credentials.”
Apparently you’re not in on all of the secrets.
Sam’s heart weighed heavy. He didn’t know whether it was a good idea to come clean. There was a lot to talk over with Al, Donna, and perhaps Ziggy, too.
“I’d like to hear more about your paper,” he said. “Wanna grab a coffee or somethin’?”
Sammy Jo nodded. “Sure,” she said, with a bubbling excitement that Sam found endearing.
As she turned to open room 6, Sam’s smile faded as he tried to decide what to do about all this.
I’m going to be saying goodbye to her before long. Doesn’t she deserve the truth? But then, I’ll be abandoning her all over again, won’t I?
Earth Prime
February 6, 1998
It was a busy Friday night at the bar downtown. The noise levels were at the point that even the most sensitive information spoken would have been swallowed up by the ambience before reaching the ears of a stranger.
Sherri leaned against a wall, watching the Men’s Room door. She sipped at a glass of red wine.
“Waiting for someone?” a voice emerged from the clamour. Sherri turned her head toward it, and gave a fond smile to its owner.
“John’s in the… uh, john,” she said. “Good to see you, Al.”
Earth Prime’s Al Calavicci took his place against the wall, beside her, an unlit cigar between his fingers. He was dressed in a vibrant blue suit, with a matching set of tinted shades, and his tie was hot pink, which complemented his similarly coloured shoes.
“Trying to impress someone with that suit?” she asked, though she knew he dressed like this almost every day.
Al flashed her a suggestive look. “Would you have preferred my birthday suit?”
Sherri gave him a playful elbow in the side. “I see nothing’s changed with you.”
“Sure it has,” he said, waving around the cigar. “Since I last saw you, I had myself another beautiful, transcendent wedding, and then… bitter, contentious divorce.”
“How many’s that now?” Sherri grimaced in anticipation of the response.
“Five— wait… no, six. Think that means I get the next one free.”
Given what Sherri knew about Al, the joke was less funny than it was sad, but she gave him a token laugh all the same, just to make him feel better.
“Jeez, Al. Why even bother marrying?” She hadn’t meant to sound so blunt, but it was a question in the minds of everyone who knew the man.
“Always seems like a great idea at the time. It’s the womanly wiles. Robs me of my higher reasoning.”
Sherri made eye contact with Al. “Is that what brought you here? You want a rebound fling with me?”
“Sherri, I’m hurt that you’d suggest I’d come here just for that.” He gestured to the room around them. “There are plenty of other ladies here to have a rebound fling with.”
Sherri placed a hand on her hip. “But, I’m the only one who you know for sure won’t end up your seventh wife. No strings, no drama, no weirdness.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re making a pitch, Sherri.”
Sherri gave him a noncommittal shrug, before finishing her wine.
Finally, John emerged from the bathroom door. His eyes were immediately drawn to the conspicuous Al, and his face lit up. He crossed to the former Admiral, giving him a pat on the arm in greeting.
“Al, I didn’t know you were coming to town.”
Al gave him a tight shrug. “After the message Will sent me, thought it might be a good time to see a couple of old friends for maybe the last time.”
“Don’t say that,” John said, frowning. “We still have a chance.”
Al pressed his cigar to his lips, before realising that it wasn’t lit. He made a face.
“Damn non-smoking bars,” he grumbled. “I’m goin’ outside.”
Sherri and John followed him out onto the street, where Al lit up and took a long drag, before continuing the conversation.
“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you two,” he said, “but you know as well as I do it’s a long shot. What kind of odds did that computer of yours give it?”
Sherri exchanged a look with John. “Thirty-one per cent,” she admitted.
“Far be it for me to bet against Team Beckett, but this ain’t the Superbowl we’re talking about. The stakes are a little too life-or-death to be enjoying my retirement. So I came to offer, you know, moral support.” He leaned towards Sherri. “And maybe have a rebound fling before the world goes caca.”
John stared at the sidewalk. “You look so much like him these days.”
“Like who?” asked Al, a plume of smoke rolling past his lips.
John scuffed his foot. “You remember all the crazy stuff I said when we first met, right?”
“That bananas story you expected me to believe about parallel versions of us from the future?”
“That’s the one. He came out of a bright white door in the middle of a lecture about TCP. Loud shirt, bright yellow pants. Carrying a cigar just like that. Even the same ring on his finger. Face about the same age.”
“Sounds like a stylish kinda guy,” Al said.
John laughed. “He scared the living daylights outta me.”
Sherri smiled, recalling John receiving a job offer some time around 1984. He was going to return to sender, until he saw the name attached. He then proceeded to call up Al Calavicci, sharing his very strange story. Most people would have written John off as a nutcase, but Al wasn’t most people.
“I’d say if you’re gonna be a hologram from the future, you might as well look like a hologram from the future,” Al said sagely.
Sherri turned an eye to John. “See, I told you. Bright colours make you stand out so I can see you better.”
“But it’s so tacky,” John whined. “I like my jeans and neutral tone shirts.”
“Listen, Sam,” Al prodded, “let me pick your wardrobe for the next one. Just this once.”
Sherri grinned. “Seconded.”
John groaned. “I’ll only wear it if it’s not going to put me off my game, okay?”
He leaned towards Sherri. “Or yours.”
Sherri held a hand to her heart. “Sir, I am a professional.”
She grinned at Al. “Make sure there’s big blocks of fire engine red.”
“You got it.”
“Oh boy,” John sighed with resignation, rubbing his temples.
* * *
The weekend passed quickly, as John and Sherri tried to relax as best they could, knowing what was to come.
John didn’t know whether Sherri and Al slept together, and it wasn’t his business. They were two mature adults, both older than him, and they could do what they wanted, as far as he was concerned. It had been something of an unspoken agreement between the three of them for a long time that they need not discuss anything that happened between those two.
But of course, he knew it had happened at least a few times in their long history. Sherri’s divorce long ago had erased what desire she’d had to settle down with a guy, and Al’s frequent bachelorhood had brought them together on occasion, but it had never spilled out of the bedroom. Somehow, it seemed like the healthiest relationship Al had had since Beth. Whatever Sherri did with him, their friendship never soured.
It was Sunday when Al took John shopping for an outfit. He was miserable the whole time, of course, as Al picked out some of the most flamboyant pieces.
And now, on Monday morning, he emerged from the elevator with slumped shoulders, as those who had arrived earlier gawked at him.
Al had given him a vibrant vermillion blazer, and rainbow striped pants. His shirt was blue on one side and yellow on the other, to match his shoes and fedora respectively.
“Yes, yes, I look like a clown,” he said, as numerous pairs of eyes followed him across the control room. “Soak it in while you can.”
Head lowered, he entered the break room, where a grinning Sherri and Al awaited his arrival.
“Chin up, Sam,” Al said. “The difference between being a schlub and being a trend setter is confidence. If you look embarrassed, people will take the cue to laugh at you.”
Sherri, as if to demonstrate, was clearly holding back laughter. She produced a camera, and started snapping photos, as he glared at her.
“Sherri…” he mumbled, covering his eyes. “This is a serious mission. I don’t think this is gonna work.”
Sherri stood, and pulled down his hand so she could look him in the eye.
“John… Sam. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I leap today. It’s the Kromaggs, you know? I could die. I don’t care if you look like an extra from Beetlejuice, or a gay Willy Wonka. If anything, it might keep my spirits high.”
She adjusted his tie. “Let’s finish this, okay?”
John sighed. “Okay.”
Gay Willy Wonka?
* * *
Sherri placed a hand on Will Arturo’s shoulder, as he worked at his terminal. He jumped at the contact, and glanced up at her.
“Oh, hey,” he said distractedly.
“Come on, take a break with me,” she said, gesturing for the break room. “I’m due out in a half hour.”
“Oh… okay.”
He got up, and a few minutes later they were sharing a quiet moment by the coffee maker.
Sherri took a swig of her black coffee, and moved an eye over the Professor’s son. He looked dishevelled and nervous, hunched over his earl grey tea, grasping the mug like it was a lifeline.
“Doesn’t look like the week off helped you one bit,” she observed.
Will moved his sunken eyes up to meet hers. “I guess I’m not very good at relaxing.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Sherri said. “I can’t help but think… you’re miserable here.”
“N-no, not at all,” he countered. “I support the cause, I love everyone here. There’s no reason I’d be miserable.”
Sherri searched his tired eyes. “And yet, lately it feels like you’re only half here. I know it can’t be easy, with your Dad and all.”
Will fixed his gaze in the ripples of his tea. “It’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’ve had to deal with that for a while, and it’s hard… but, moreover it’s the pressure that comes with this line of work. I’ve had pretty bad insomnia for a while now.”
“Have you talked to John about this? Maybe he can help.”
Will shrugged. “You know he overworks himself, too. I don’t want to be another hassle.”
“Will…” Maggie reached out a hand and rested it on his wrist. “We’re a team. We all support each other. Don’t ever feel like you’d be a hassle asking for help.”
She leaned over and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Your Dad was real proud of you, you know?”
A ghost of a smile passed over Will’s face. “We used to absolutely hate each other.” He let out a bitter laugh.
Sherri pursed her lips. “I don’t think he ever hated you, Will. He just had to readjust his parental expectations.”
Will snorted. “Nah, he definitely hated me after the time I stole three hundred bucks out of his wallet when I was fourteen. He specifically said the words: ‘I despise you, you theftuous simplician.’” He spoke the quotation with the blustery voice of his father.
“Theftuous?” Now it was Sherri’s turn to laugh. “I just know he made up some of those words he came out with.”
“It’s actually a real word; I looked it up,” Will said, and began to chuckle with her. The two of them laughed a moment longer, before descending into a contemplative silence.
Finally, Sherri broke the silence. “Listen, if something happens to me, I want you and John to take good care of each other. Promise me?”
Will went pale. “I promise,” he said, “but please come back, okay? I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“That’s something I can’t promise, but I’ll do my best. Count on it.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sherri stepped into the Interdimensional Accelerator, and vanished.
Project Quantum Leap – December 21, 2002
The facility was quiet. Quieter than it had been in many years, Al realised. A handful of essential staff remained, with the rest given Christmas and New Years off. Sam was off with Donna, packing for a trip to Hawaii to see his family. Al, Beth, and a couple of his daughters were set to join them. But, for now, Al wandered the empty corridors, wondering what was to come.
As he poked a head in to Ziggy’s mainframe, he spotted a crouched figure by the gizmo that Quinn had connected to Ziggy a few weeks back. But it wasn’t Quinn – the person was much shorter, and wore a grey suit.
“Wha–” Al stuttered, prompting the figure to turn. “Senator Grady? The heck?”
The senator looked startled for a moment, before he stood, composing himself and flashing Al a winning smile.
“Admiral, how lovely to see you,” he said.
Al narrowed his eyes at the man. He’d been stuck to the whole operation like glue of late, and it had been rubbing him the wrong way.
“I didn’t know you had clearance to be in here,” Al tested.
Grady held out a hand. “Now, now, I have full clearance for this facility. Doctor Beckett granted me a pass.”
That doesn’t sound like something Sam would do.
Al leaned over to inspect the machine the Senator had been hunched over. “This whole room’s full of mucho sensitive tech, Senator. Wouldn’t want it being put outta whack, you know?”
“Oh, I’d never dream of touching this equipment, Admiral,” Grady said. “I had just heard so much about this contraption from your slider friends, I wanted to see it for myself. Quite a marvel.”
“Yeah, it’s swell,” Al said, with rising suspicion. “Look, I think it’s better if you only come in here supervised, Senator. This room ain’t your ordinary server room.”
Grady bowed his head. “I understand. I apologise for any breach of protocol of which I might be guilty. Do escort me out, my good man.”
He left the room, still smiling, as Al carefully followed him to the elevator that led back to the surface.
“Merry Christmas, Admiral,” he said, waving as the door closed on him.
Al frowned, and spun around, returning to the mainframe.
“Ziggy, gimme a full report on Grady and what he’s been doing here lately,” he called up to Ziggy’s orb, as he took a close look at the crystal storage device.
He was not particularly versed in how this thing worked, but he could see that all the quartz receptacles were filled with a crystal. Still, that didn’t mean it hadn’t somehow been tampered with.
“Certainly, Al,” Ziggy said. “Printing a full report now. The Senator has not interfered with my systems, I’m pleased to report. However, I have observed a significant number of probing questions he has asked staff members.”
“Probing…?” Al tilted his head. “Like what?”
“I calculate a 66.2 per cent probability that his line of questioning was an attempt to learn details of my security features.”
Al balled his hands into fists. “That little weasel. Ziggy, revoke his access to the building.”
“I do love a good revocation,” Ziggy murmured. “The Senator’s access rights have now been purged.”
Al sighed with relief. “Good. Now, was it really Sam who gave him the all-access pass?”
“My records indicate that Senator Grady did not have mainframe access privileges.”
Al stared at the glowing orb, incredulous. “Then how the hell’d he get in here?”
Ziggy was quiet for a little too long.
“Ziggy?”
“It appears I have a gap in my records, Admiral.” Ziggy’s voice was almost shaky.
“You just said he didn’t interfere!”
“Yes, I’m afraid that was an error on my part; I was unaware of the change until I attempted to access the record. It seems I may have experienced some form of undetectable glitch that suspended my processes. Running diagnostics.”
Al glared at the orb, then pulled his handlink from his pocket, waving it around. “You contact me directly as soon as you have answers, Ziggy. And keep checking for any other… gaps.”
“I already am, Admiral.”
As Al hurried out of the room, bound for his office, Ziggy added: “I’m sorry.”
* * *
Sam stood, staring blankly into the closet. Musty clothes hung on the rail, stuff he obviously hadn’t touched in seven long years.
“Can you tell me if any of this stuff is out of style?” he said to Donna, who was behind him, loading things into their suitcase.
“I don’t think anyone will care if it is,” she said, giving him a lopsided smile.
He pursed his lips as he looked the button-ups, pants, and occasional t-shirt. “Guess I never was on the cutting edge of style, was I?”
It seemed ironic to Sam that he was used to the fashion style of every decade but his own.
He pulled out a few plain, inconspicuous shirts, and threw them on the bed. The only present-day fashion he’d seen for all those years was Al, and he was hardly the norm at the best of times. But, he figured, he couldn’t really go wrong with a smart, neutral toned shirt and some jeans or khakis, and a pair of leather lace-up shoes. Those stood the test of time. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in any leap with something along those lines. He was in the business of not looking out of place, after all.
“We can get you a nice Hawaiian shirt when we get there,” Donna suggested, peering down at the shirts. “Might look a little more vacation-y than these… safe… choices.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, inspecting a dusty coat. “It doesn’t get very cold in Hawaii, does it?”
Donna snorted. “Winter temperatures are known to occasionally reach a positively frigid sixty degrees. Most you’ll need is a windbreaker, I’d guess.”
“Good, good,” he muttered, as he lost the will to continue, and flopped onto the edge of the bed. Donna looked at him with concern.
“Sam, are you doing okay?” She took a seat beside him.
“It’s nothing,” he said, but he knew she knew that was a lie. She looked him in the eye.
“Come on, talk to me, would you? No sense bottling everything up.”
Sam rubbed his eyes. “I was just hoping to have a nice vacation with family, and then I’d worry about everything on my mind. Can’t we do that?”
Donna frowned. “Looks like you’re already worrying about it now. So all it’s gonna do is spoil the nice vacation with family because you’ll be in your own head the whole time. Just get it off your chest now, Sam.”
She was right, of course. She was always right. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, and leaned back on the pillow. He unceremoniously pushed off the shirts, which fell to the floor in a pile, before patting the bed next to him for Donna to join him. She did so as he stared up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath.
“So, uh… Sammy Jo,” he said, looking at Donna to gauge her reaction. Her face remained expressionless.
“Sammy Jo,” she echoed, through a sigh.
“I take it you know…”
She nodded. “Of course I do.”
“Yeah. I figured as much.”
He felt Donna’s hand grasp his. “But she doesn’t.”
“Figured that, too.”
“We all agreed you’d be the one to tell her, if you ever came home.” Donna squeezed his hand. “I realise it won’t be an easy thing to do.”
You can say that again.
“That’s not the only thing I’m struggling with right now,” Sam admitted. “Though, it’s top of the list.”
He turned to meet her eye. “You know I love you more than anything, right?”
Donna nodded, but her glistening eyes betrayed her apparent knowledge of where this was going.
“I suppose Al has already told you, then.”
“You’re gonna leap away again,” she choked out. “Yeah, I know…”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Donna said, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “I understand. You have a… calling. It’s something you need to do. Don’t let me stand in the way, Sam.”
“It’s not alright, though,” he said, biting his lip and looking upward again. “Did… did you know that we’re only together because of a leap?”
Donna nodded. “I did.”
“At the time I had no idea I’d be leaping for so long, so I didn’t think twice. But now I realise what a complete jackass I was to help heal your fear of abandonment, only to abandon you. Who in their right mind would do something like that?
“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. So if you want to… you know… divorce… that’s okay. You can build a life with someone else, and–”
Donna took a hold of his cheeks and turned his head to face hers.
“Sam, I’ve had more time than you to deal with this reality. I have memories of you leaving that only exist because you left to begin with, which is not the easiest thing to wrap my mind around.
“Until recently, I thought of myself as just like Beth, waiting for a husband missing in action to return home. Then you had that conversation with Al, and I realised that standing in your way of leaping was going to be futile.”
She drew in a long, shaky breath, and let it out.
“I realise these may be the final days of us being together. And that’s okay. If you really want to ‘set me free’ by divorcing me, I’ll sign the papers. But I’ll never think of you as anything but my husband, even if you’re off in time romancing some woman. Even if you don’t remember me.”
It was Sam’s turn to be choked up. “I’ve put you through enough pain, haven’t I?”
Donna smiled through her tears. “Why don’t you make it up to me now?”
She kissed him, and moved in close. Sam was a little emotionally wrung out to make love, but he reciprocated as best he could.
Then Donna’s cell phone started ringing.
The lovers looked at one another for a moment, before Donna sighed, and looked at the caller ID.
“Al’s calling from his office,” she said, her expression turning serious. “Should I answer?”
Sam furrowed his brow, wondering why he might be calling from there. “Yeah, you’d better.”
Blip. “Hi Al, what’s up?”
Sam watched the colour drain from her face. “I see. I’ll put Sam on.” She shakily passed him the phone.
“Al, what’s goin’ on?”
“Hate to interrupt the vacation, pal, but we got a great big politician-shaped problem on our hands. I’m callin’ an emergency meeting.”
Oh boy.
Sherri’s eyes snapped open, only to squint from the visual onslaught of a harsh overhead light.
Okay. Mind blank, don’t know where I am. Guess I must have leaped.
She was lying on a hard surface, a wall to her right. Around her was a series of cramped, uncomfortable cell bunks. Twelve total, by her count.
I’m in a prison?
Occupying each bed were people of varying ages and genders. Most were sleeping, while others just seemed to be staring into space. Sherri sat up, and had to lean forward to stop her head from hitting a bunk above her. She silently gave another scan of this apparent cell.
No bars?
The cell opened up into a corridor at one end, but there appeared to be some kind of energy field over the exit. She stood, and started moving towards it slowly, hoping not to disturb anyone around her.
She felt eyes on her as she lifted a hand to the blue glow. As she made contact with it, a diffuse pattern passed over the field, and she received a sharp electric shock.
“Not time yet,” came a voice. “Ain’t had the signal.”
Sherri turned toward the voice, coming from a top bunk just beside her. It was a man who looked about thirty, with tired grey eyes that looked quite a bit older.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, cautious. “I was just… checking to see if it was still… uh, working. You know, in case there was a chance of getting out of here.”
The man chuckled. “And here I was thinkin’ your will was already broken like the rest of these wretches. Colour me impressed.”
“Oh, I’m pretty wilful,” Sherri said, smirking.
“Janet, right?” said the man, sitting up, and taking a hold of her hand.
Janet.
“I guess…” she said as he gave it a shake.
“I’m Tim. Nice to finally have a conversation in here. It’s been a lonely week.”
“A week, huh?” Sherri wondered how long the rest of the people had been here. Including whoever it was she had leaped into.
He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Yeah, finally got shipped here when I started playing along with the brainwashing. But it never did take for real.”
Sherri nodded slowly.
Brainwashing…?
What had she got herself into this time?
“You must’ve resisted a little longer than me, by the looks of you,” he said, studying her face.
What does that mean?
The sound of footsteps began to echo down the corridor, and Tim’s eyes moved to the door.
“You’d better get back in your bunk,” he whispered, giving her a nudge. She nodded and quietly returned to the place where she’d awoken, as two figures appeared at the doorway.
Sherri studied them carefully: Bald, prominent brow, jagged teeth. Mean-looking.
Are they…?
The energy field dissipated as one of them passed some kind of card through it.
“Slave Unit 47-G, you are required on level 78 for cleaning duties,” announced one of the creatures.
All at once, the people around her sprang to life, climbing off their beds to stand at attention. Sherri followed suit.
As all of the prisoners – or, she supposed, enslaved people – assembled, they spoke in unison: “We are honoured to serve the Dynasty.”
‘Dynasty.’ Yeah, that confirms it. Those things are Kromaggs alright. Crap.
Sherri hoped they hadn’t seen her unmoving lips.
As the group moved together, she felt someone grasp her hand. She looked beside her to see an older woman, who was staring straight ahead. Nobody else was holding hands, and Sherri wondered why this woman had done this. Did they know each other? Were they friends? She certainly wasn’t betraying any emotion at present. Nobody was.
As they entered some kind of industrial sized elevator with large reflective metal panels, Sherri was finally able to glimpse her reflection.
Oh.
The person in the reflection was an elderly woman, with near white hair. She was thin, gaunt, and hunched over. But, the most obvious feature was that she had empty, sewn-up eye sockets.
As her own, entirely existent, eyes scanned the crowded elevator, she realised that this gave her a certain advantage. Nobody would catch her staring at them, and who’d suspect someone with no eyes of snooping around?
But, at the same time, her lack of eyes meant she may incur more supervision. And how exactly was she meant to get any alone time?
“Boy… now I really feel overdressed,” came John’s voice, as he emerged from the wall of the elevator, dressed in his colourful suit, which contrasted wildly to the grey jumpsuits of the slaves, and military fatigues of the Kromagg soldiers. His head swivelled as he took in his surroundings, eyes squinting. Sherri gave him a silent pleading look, then turned an eye to her reflection.
He looked into the metal pane, and shot her a grimace.
“Yeah. I have a feeling I know where those eyeballs went.”
He pointed a thumb at the Kromaggs.
“So this is a Kromagg, huh?” he said, turning to study the ugly faces of the two soldiers. He reached over to his invisible shelf, and produced Quinn’s notebook, flipping through the pages.
“Quinn drew one of these guys in here,” he said, before identifying the page, and turning it to show Sherri. “Think it matches?”
The drawing looked like it had been made by a child. A circular face with a big line over the beady eyes, and a frowning, gaping mouth with spiked teeth. It wasn’t an inaccurate depiction, but it was certainly… rudimentary. Sherri gave John a split-second smile, before forcing her face to go blank again.
“So, you remember what you’ve got to do? We’re here for Nexus Quinn. We just have to locate him.”
Sherri responded with a barely perceptible nod in his direction.
Jeez it’s tough communicating like this.
“You play along here while I see if I can trace his signature,” he said, staring down at his handlink. “I sure hope he’s nearby. If he’s not, we might just be spinning our wheels.”
He moved close to her, phasing through a number of people in the process. “Keep your eyes peeled,” he said, before wincing. “Okay, poor choice of words.”
Sherri was finding it harder to conceal a smile, despite the dire situation. John had a way of keeping her from being immersed in the horrors of what could sometimes be happening around her.
She recalled one time, on a world full of cavernous tunnels below the Earth’s scorched surface, she had spent eighteen days alone in a cramped cave that had been cut off from the rest by a cave-in. Her only task at that point was to survive, and wait for an eventual rescue. The isolation would have caused severe trauma to the leapee. But Sherri wasn’t alone; John had kept her company for fifteen hours a day, every day. Each day he’d brought in something different to occupy her mind. Some days he’d bring in an instrument and sing songs with her, some days he’d read her books. While the experience was harrowing, he’d made sure it was bearable, even when she was forced to start eating bugs in the last few days.
“Back soon, Sherri. Sit tight, don’t draw attention. Good luck.”
As he disappeared, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened. Before them was a sprawling room, well-furnished. It looked like some kind of grand marketplace. Sherri was surprised to see a place like this in the same building as the prison she’d come from. But, then, slave quarters generally were in close vicinity to the rich, she thought bitterly.
She caught a glimpse of a large window to her left, and her breath caught as she saw a vast forest of thick, enormous trees, through which flying ships were weaving.
Those must be the Manta ships.
The trees had windows built into them – it was as if, instead of building a city of skyscrapers, they had simply used the trees as their buildings. Sherri figured it was entirely possible that she was inside one of the trees. This room did seem to have a rounded quality to it that would be consistent with a hollow tree trunk.
No wonder Nexus Quinn was excited about this place. I choose to believe he was unaware of the slavery.
She felt a tug on her hand from the woman whose duty it seemed to be to act as her eyes, and realised the group was on the move.
As the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Kromaggs around them went about their business, all Sherri could think about was how she could possibly find Quinn when she was one of the most subjugated, tightly scrutinised beings on this whole Earth.
Rembrandt wasn’t sure why he was here. Sure, this was some kind of all-hands-on-deck emergency, but what use was he in such a situation? All he’d really been doing for the past few years was hanging around and catching up on TV as he watched Quinn and Colin build stuff, and Maggie get progressively more agitated about being cooped up.
Hell, he had never missed an episode of Passions since he got here, even though he hated the damn show. That was a testament to how slow and rudderless his life had become.
Around him, at the conference table, sat Q-ball, Colin, Maggie, Sammy Jo, Al, Sam, and then several other people he’d never met, one of whom had rotten breath.
“Awright, everyone,” Al said, standing up. The light murmurs at the table died as everybody looked to him. “So it seems that the Kentucky fried Senator who’s been hanging round like a bad smell lately may be trying to get a hold of sensitive data.”
Grady?
The faces around him became grave.
“That rotten snake!” cried the high-pitched voice of the woman who sat next to the bad breath guy. “You kicked him outta here, right Al?”
“Yeah, Tina. He won’t be allowed back in here. But we got more problems than that.” Al sighed, leaning on the table. “Ziggy’s compromised.”
“Compromised how?” asked a wide-eyed Sam.
Al picked up a stack of papers from his place at the table, and handed them to Sam. “Here’s her diagnostic report. See for yourself.”
Sam skimmed through the pages, and sweat began beading on his face. He looked back up at Al.
“Six separate instances…”
“Ziggy has been… hanging,” the hallitosis man piped up, seeming to have already read the report. “Freezing for short periods, then resuming function as if no time had passed.”
Al continued: “She didn’t even realise it was happening ’til I told her to look up how the slimeball got into her mainframe without the proper access.”
Quinn leaned forward. “So you think that somehow, Grady’s been disrupting Ziggy? So – what, he can go places he’s not meant to?”
“Sure looks that way,” Al concurred. “And you won’t like what I found him looking at.”
Quinn swallowed. “Higgins?”
Al nodded grimly.
“So has this been a long game?” Sammy Jo asked quietly. “All these years he’s been helping us, and making himself out to be our best friend in the Committee – could it all have been an act so he could hang around here without suspicion?”
“But what does he want?” asked the lady to Sam’s left, who was sitting as close to him as she could get. “Who’s he working for? Who would go to all this trouble?”
“There’s a lot of things powerful people can do with both sliding and time travel technology,” Maggie said, frowning. “The Professor died to keep Higgins out of the hands of Kromaggs.”
“Yeah…” Colin said, with regret passing over his face. “And Grady was gung-ho on finding out all about Higgins from us, which has the data for both purposes. I’ll bet he’s gunning for those quartz crystals.”
“And the way to read them,” added Quinn, scratching his chin.
Al exchanged a look with Sam.
“Okay,” Sam said quietly, “let’s shut down Ziggy until we formulate a plan of action.”
An uneasy silence fell over the table, as if he’d just suggested pulling the life support on a loved one.
Al put a hand on Sam’s slumped shoulder. “It’s for the best.”
Sam addressed the table: “Once Ziggy’s offline, she can’t be reactivated unless she has three layers of security unlocked from both Al and I. The first layer is a physical key, the second is a hand print, and the third is a unique pass phrase using our vocal signatures.”
“There’s a secondary failsafe that involves Gooshie and Donna,” Al added, “in case something happens to one of us.”
Okay, so the high voice lady is Tina, and Donna must be the other lady, and I guess that makes Stink-Bomb Breath ‘Gooshie.’
“What about Higgins?” Quinn asked. “Without Ziggy’s security features in the building, the crystals will be sitting ducks for a break-in, right?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam said, pensive.
“It might be a good idea to separate the crystals,” Maggie suggested. “Distribute them among everyone here. That way, there’s no way Grady will get them all. We just have to make sure they’re each put somewhere safe and secure.”
“Alright, all in favour of this plan, say aye,” announced Al.
“Aye,” replied every other voice in the room.
Al and Sam looked at one another.
“Okay guys, looks like the vacation’s still on,” Sam said, smiling. “Just make sure your crystal’s secure. I’ll think on what to do about Ziggy.”
As the meeting adjourned, and Quinn distributed Higgins crystals to everyone, Rembrandt was still wondering what use he’d been. He hadn’t said a single word during that entire meeting, other than ‘aye.’
* * *
“How you doing, Ziggy?” Sam called up to the orb, as he prepared for her shutdown. Beside him stood Al, while Gooshie, Tina, and Donna waited across the room, looking tense.
“You needn’t coddle me, Doctor Beckett,” Ziggy said, though Sam could tell she wasn’t completely unaffected. “Please proceed.”
“You’ll be back online in no time, got it?” Al reassured the computer, as he pressed a sequence of buttons.
“Yes, I am quite aware. Please proceed.”
Sam exchanged a look with Al. Ziggy may have been a computer, but she had an ego, and egos had a tendency towards self-preservation.
“Proceeding, then,” Sam said, pressing his own sequence into the controls. “Good night, Ziggy.”
Each of those present followed suit, prompting Ziggy to give them a small chuckle.
“If you expect me to start singing Daisy Bell, I’m sorry to disappoint,” Ziggy said, as her glow began to dim. “I’m confident my period of dormancy will be short, so… farewell for now. Please enjoy your holiday period.”
Despite her reassurances, her voice slowly became less spirited as she spoke. The orb, and the coloured panels around the room, faded to nothing, leaving the group in an eerie, silent darkness.
Gooshie reached over to the wall, and flipped on a light switch, illuminating the room with a cool white light from a plain fluorescent tube.
Even though Sam knew this was temporary, he still felt a sense of loss, and he could tell the others also felt it. Ziggy had been a constant for all of them for a long time, and it felt really strange to see her deactivated.
“Okay… let’s go,” Sam said. “No sense mourning, right?”
“Right…” Al said, and patted Ziggy’s main control panel. “We’ll be back defragging these drives in no time.”
And they left.
* * *
Somewhere in Topeka, Kansas
December 23, 2002
The lonely woman cast a weary eye at the clock by her bed.
Midnight…
So, another day over. Another day wasted waiting for the stupid machine to pick something up.
She buried her head in her pillow. How many days was that, now? How many months? Years? She was sure it was calibrated correctly. She’d run the calculations again and again. It was the right signature, she was sure of it. It came from her own blood.
Maybe, she figured, she’d overestimated the scale of the operation. Maybe it was smaller than she’d given it credit for. Maybe her defection had forced it to shut down.
No, not a chance.
She’d once thought this was a good plan. And then the waiting began. Now she just felt like there was a whole lot she could be doing if only she wasn’t stuck here.
As she settled down to get some sleep, she tried to ignore the feeling in her gut that everything around her was wrong.
Blip.
The woman’s eyes shot open, and her gaze flickered to the machine on the floor.
Please tell me that wasn’t my mind playing tricks.
Blip.
She shot out of bed, grabbing the small device, which had a small dish on the front and a display at the back. Slowly, she turned around, trying to isolate the direction of the signal.
Blip. Blip. Blip.
Southwest, or thereabouts.
She let out a giddy cry, and began feverishly putting warm clothes on, before hurrying out into the frigid winter air, strapping her helmet on. Her motorcycle sprang to life, and she sped off into the night.
Sorry I doubted you, Moirai, she prayed to the Fates.
John rubbed his eyes as the hologram shifted around him, causing some disorientation.
“Almost got it,” came Will’s voice through the handlink.
“Thanks, buddy,” John said, as images blurred past his eyes. “Wish it was a little simpler than this, I gotta be honest.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Will. “Higgins has no idea how to parse the Kromagg brain waves, so they’re interfering with our search a little. But we’re closing in. Just a minute.”
“Okay, I’ll just shut my eyes until the image stabilises,” John said.
“Ugh, not now…” Will muttered, at a barely perceptible volume.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to do with the search. It’s just our detectors just triggered at the anomaly site.”
“Of all times…” lamented John. “Is there someone available to go scope it out?”
“Well, the only one around here not working on something important right now is…”
John grimaced. “Al?”
“Yeah.”
John scratched the back of his head. “S’pose you could ask him. He might not know what to do when he gets there, though.”
“Okay, I’ll see wh— yes! We have a lock. Finally.”
John opened his eyes cautiously, and relaxed when he saw a stable image of a small room around him, with a neatly made bed and a large window overlooking the tree city of the Kromagg world. As the audio of the environment came in, he heard a light tapping behind him, and he turned around.
Nexus Quinn was sitting at a cramped desk, with a laptop computer, typing up what John recognised to be sliding algorithms.
“Dammit, don’t do it, kid,” John pleaded, though he knew that was pointless. He needed to get Sherri to him right away.
Quinn let out a frustrated groan, as a box came up on the computer written in an unknown language.
“Come on…” Quinn mumbled, hitting a key.
John squinted at the strange text, and suddenly wished he’d gone on to complete his degree in ancient languages. Some of the symbols looked familiar, but he couldn’t recognise any pattern to them.
Phoenician alphabet, maybe. But not quite.
Quinn’s key pressing eventually cleared the dialogue, and he sighed, before reaching into his pocket and looking at the quartz crystal that John recognised all too well.
“Please, Quinn, don’t give that to them…”
The sound of a knock at the door startled both of them, and John watched Quinn frantically put the crystal back into his pocket before standing to open the door.
On the other side of the door stood, surprisingly, a human being. The man wore a military uniform just like the guys guarding Sherri, and John eyed the guy sceptically.
Is he using that cloaking ability?
Quinn’s notebook had described a Kromagg’s advanced mental abilities that allowed them to look like whatever they wanted others to see.
Reality distortion, like the leaper aura.
“The commander summons you, sir,” said the man. Nexus Quinn stretched, acting casual.
“Does he now? Tell him I’m busy.” He moved to close the door, and the soldier placed his foot in the way.
“It wasn’t a request, sir,” he said, making cold eye contact with Quinn. The self-assured Quinn didn’t flinch.
“That’s no way to treat a guest,” said Quinn, raising an eyebrow. “He did say I was a guest, did he not?”
The soldier stared him in the eye for a moment.
“I’ll go tell him you’re busy,” the man said, eyes narrowed, before turning and closing the door.
John followed him out, and as he walked down the corridor, he watched the soldier’s illusion dissipate, revealing the unmistakable head of a Kromagg.
Called it.
He followed the soldier to the end of the corridor, where he produced some sort of wireless keycard that he waved over a scanner. It accepted his pass, and he shot a quick glance in John’s direction before opening the door and entering.
He didn’t… sense me?
John continued to the door and peeked his head inside.
The room was a large, mostly empty office, with a floor-to-ceiling window stretching across the far side. The soldier approached a large desk, at which a Kromagg of a higher rank sat.
“Commander, the human has refused your summons.”
“I see.” The commander was silent for a moment, thinking. Then, he stood, turning toward the window.
“Continue to accommodate his insolence for the time being. He must complete his work, at all costs. We need those equations.”
John pursed his lips as he wondered why Quinn just hadn’t handed over the crystal to them. Their civilisation seemed more than advanced enough to retrieve the data from it.
He wants to keep the crystal for his own purposes, I guess.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier said.
The commander turned back around, and his eyes hovered at the door, near John, for just a moment, before resting on the soldier.
“Dismissed.”
John pulled back into the corridor, tapping into his handlink.
“Higgins, take me to Sherri.”
The hologram around him shifted immediately to a small bathroom, where several enslaved people were cleaning various surfaces in silence. Sherri, with some irony to the poor eyeless woman whose aura she was wearing, was wiping the mirror.
John, who wasn’t visible in the mirror, cleared his throat, prompting her to turn and give a relieved sigh. She looked around at the other toiling slaves momentarily, before meeting John’s eye.
“Hey.”
“You… good to talk?” John said, noticing with interest that none of the others in the bathroom had so much as looked up. “Higgins isn’t detecting any listening devices in range, but I see you have… company.”
Sherri pulled her rag away from the mirror, balling it up.
“I think these guys are used to just tuning out weird stuff happening around ’em. Have enough Kromagg mind games done to you and I guess this is the result.” She dumped the rag in the bucket on the floor next to her. “Did you find him?”
“I did,” he said, peering at his handlink, where Higgins had generated a 3D map of the immediate area. He turned it so she could see, and pointed at a red dot. “Okay, this is you.”
He zoomed out, revealing the forest city. Another red dot glowed in a tree nearby to the one Sherri was in. “Quinn’s in this building… uh, tree. Level fifty-three. He’s under pretty heavy guard. still thinks he holds all the cards, though.”
“How many thousands of ’maggs do you think stand between me and him?” Sherri moaned, cradling her temple. “This is a nightmare.”
John frowned. “Yeah, it’s… not great. I’ll get Higgins to run through some escape scenarios. Tracking changes to the original history is going to be a challenge, though.”
“Of course it is,” Sherri rolled her eyes. “What is it this time?”
“Well, Higgins receives the information by probing the parallel Earth in our present. He opens a wormhole there and scans for traces of internet and news wire. But in the Kromagg world; well, we don’t want them to trace the wormhole and expedite the invasion, do we?”
“Isn’t there anything Higgins can do to mask the trail?”
John pulled up Higgins’s report on the handlink, studying it closely. “He can reroute the probe through one or more layers of known barren parallel Earths to mask the trail. It’ll lag on our updates, though. So we need to be careful and not rush things.”
He wiped sweat from his brow. “But there are still obstacles. Namely, their written language is different to ours, and all of the pertinent info could be locked up in classified files.”
Sherri looked at him with a deflated frown. “Tell me you have some good news, too.”
“You could say the fact Quinn hasn’t handed over the data yet counts as good news. But we don’t have long.”
Sherri looked at the elderly lady’s sorry visage in the mirror. “In that case, get Higgins to hurry up on those scenarios.”
John gave another glance around the room. A middle-aged lady, mopping the floor. A teenage girl, scrubbing a toilet. A short woman with a long scar down her face, wiping a sink. Each had a listless, tired expression, like they had all faced such hardship that they could no longer allow themselves to feel anything.
The reality of this wretched world descended on him, and he felt sick to his stomach.
Is there nothing we can do for these people?
“Are they all like this?” he said, voice wavering.
Sherri leaned on a sink, looking down. “Almost. There was one guy who actually talked to me. Tim. Said he’s only been here a week.”
She pointed a thumb towards the mirror. “He’s with the men, cleaning the bathroom next door.”
John bit his lip as he considered the possibility of Sherri having an ally. “That’s a variable we may be able to work with. I’ll ask Higgins to factor him in on his scenarios.”
Sherri nodded. “Okay. How much do you think I should reveal to him?”
“Only as much as you have to. Who knows what kinda surveillance they’ve got around here. In your cell.”
Sherri gave him a hint of a nod, as she considered. “Alright. While Higgins is figuring things out, I need you to keep a close watch on Quinn.”
“Okay,” he said, swallowing hard. “You be strong, okay? Use all your senses and take mental notes.”
“Always,” she said, and held out her fist. John placed his against hers, and they momentarily passed through each other.
Then, with a tap of the handlink, he was back in Nexus Quinn’s little ‘guest room,’ overlooking the troublesome double, still typing away.
John found himself longing for the innocent days of Plan B.
The woman had been riding her motorcycle all night, and she was chilled down to her bones. Even the morning sun hadn’t helped thaw her. She supposed it was time she pulled into a roadhouse.
Where am I?
She had crossed into New Mexico a while back, and was seeing signs for Albuquerque more than a hundred miles ahead. So, she figured, she was just somewhere between a desert expanse and an empty wasteland. But, thankfully, there was a lonely roadside tavern coming up fast.
She pulled up, and pumped some gas into her bike, before entering, while rifling through her wallet. The first thing that hit her as she entered was the pungent aroma of cigar smoke. As she pulled out a twenty, she glanced up and froze.
Standing at the bar were three men, who all looked dishevelled. On the right, a thirty-something man leaning on the bar, with a gaunt face and stubble. On the left, an older man wearing a gaudy silver blazer. He was evidently the source of the cigar smell, given the smouldering stogie between his fingers. But it was the tall man in the middle that actually caught her eye.
“Sam?!”
The man, who she knew was definitely Sam Beckett, looked back at her without recognition, but he was clearly spooked to hear his name.
He looked for a moment at the bartender, before stepping towards her.
“Do… do you know me?”
“Yes…” she said, and frowned. “You must be… swiss-cheesed, right? You don’t remember me.”
His eyes widened. “Swiss-cheesed… huh.” He looked at the bartender once again. The grey-haired man shrugged back at him, a strange smile playing at his lips.
Sam took another step toward her. “I think you must have met a different Sam…”
The woman frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Sam gave her an exhausted smile. “Welcome to the migraine that is this bar,” he said, and gestured around the otherwise empty tavern. “What’s your name?”
She moved to a bar stool, and took a perplexed seat on it.
“…Alia.”
Sam nodded, and gestured to the men on either side of him. “This is Al, and Will. We’re, uh… a little displaced from our homes right now.”
Al, like Sam’s hologram?
She looked at the man, tapping ash into a tray on the bar. He winked at her. “How you doin’, gorgeous?”
“Al, this really isn’t the time…” Sam said, shooting him a warning look.
Alia sat in a daze for a moment, attempting to comprehend this surreal predicament, before the bartender spoke up.
“You plan on paying for that gas, little lady?”
She realised she was still holding the bill, and she handed it to him.
“Appreciate it,” he said, and opened his register. “Staying for a meal? Soup of the day is chunky mushroom. Three fifty.”
He pulled out a few smaller bills, and handed them back, as she continued looking at Sam and his companions.
“Yeah. Guess I will.”
She picked up a menu, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. Her gaze kept drifting up to Sam.
“I…” she began, but wasn’t able to find more words. He looked back at her awkwardly.
“Listen, you should know…” he said, glancing between his friends a moment, before looking back to her. “This place we’re in right now is an unstable anomaly in spacetime.”
Alia glared at him. “What?”
“Well that’s no way to speak about my fine establishment,” said the bartender, hands on hips. “If you don’t like the way I pull a beer, you should just say so.”
Sam gave the man a flat, sardonic look. “Enough with the theatrics, already.”
He looked back at Alia with some concern. “Look, Al walked in here four months ago, and disappeared. Then when Will and I tracked the anomaly again, we came in here and only an hour had passed for him. And then we got stuck here too. Every time we open that door, it leads somewhere different.”
He turned an accusing eye to the bartender. “This guy’s got us trapped here, bouncing around across time and dimensions.”
Alia crinkled her nose. “The bartender?”
“It’s true,” said Will, who finally looked up at her. “What year is it for you?”
“Two thousand two…” she said, brow furrowed. Will and Sam exchanged a look of horror.
“When we came in here it was 1998,” Sam muttered, rubbing a hand on his forehead. “My watch says it’s been an hour and fifteen.”
“Fellas,” the bartender said, trying to break the tension, “Time tends to fly when you’re spending quality time with your friends. Long as you’re home in time for Christmas, right?”
It was Al’s turn to snap at the bartender. “Would you shut up already?”
He stamped out his cigar. “I’ve had it up to here with this nozzle beating around the damn bush all day. What do you want with us?”
The bartender chuckled.
“Just your patronage.” He gestured to the door. “You can leave any time.”
“Can we, though?” Sam asked, his face deadpan. “How do we know if we go out there it won’t be straight into a Kromagg apocalypse?”
A what apocalypse?
Alia stood. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I think maybe I should go. I have something important I’m doing, and…”
Sam looked at her, anxious. “Wait, let me go out with you… just in case.”
He looked at his friends. “I’ll be back.”
The bartender looked Sam up and down, before reaching under the bar, and throwing a big coat to him. “Here. It’s chilly out.”
Sam put a light hand on Alia’s shoulder, guiding her to the door.
He really doesn’t know me at all, does he?
She still had no clue what the meaning of any of this was, but it was no coincidence that Sam was here. Even if he didn’t recognise her.
The pair stepped out of the tavern, into the cool air. Her motorcycle was still where she left it and she moved to it, checking her device.
Still tracing. Good.
“I thought you said this place changes every time you open the door?” she asked.
Sam looked off into the desert, uneasy. “It… it normally does.”
He looked back at the door, and grabbed the handle. It didn’t budge.
“Huh…?”
Alia watched him struggle with the door. He then cupped his hands over one of the small windows. A moment later, he took a step backwards, and stood frozen, mouth hanging open.
“He wouldn’t just…” He slowly turned to her. “I can’t believe it. The anomaly bounced out of here. They’re… they’re all gone.”
Alia rushed to see into the window, and he was right: the roadhouse was closed up, dark, and seemingly abandoned.
Alia met Sam’s troubled gaze.
“Did… did he want me to go with you?” he asked, looking down at the coat that was still hanging over his forearm. “Was this his plan all along?”
Alia fought back tears. “You can come with me if you like, Sam…”
Please come with me.
Sam looked into her moist eyes, and nodded. He put the coat on. “I’m not the Sam you know, so… call me John, okay?”
“So, Alia, what’s your story?”
John wasn’t about to get on a motorcycle – without a helmet – with a girl for whom he knew only the name. Which Sam did she know, and how? And, perhaps more importantly, what was that beeping device attached to her handlebars, anyway?
Alia laughed. “We really don’t have time to go into all that,” she said. “Maybe after we get where I’m going, I can fill you in.”
“You gotta give me somethin’,” he retorted. “I don’t know anything about you. Where are we even going?”
She sighed. “Okay, I’m tracing something.” She waved a hand towards the device.
“An energy burst, consistent with…” she hesitated. “What do you know about leaping? You must know something if you knew about swiss-cheesing.”
John crossed his arms, smug. “I know as much as anyone about my own work, thank you very much. Just, in my reality I wasn’t the one who did the field work. I ran everything else.”
“Okay, we’ll have to circle back to what you mean by ‘your reality,’” she said, her brow furrowed. “Anyway, this device detects the leap energy from Lothos, which is an advanced computer that used to control my leaps.”
She’s a leaper?
John took a troubled look down at the dusty ground. This had been a frustrating day to say the least. And now there was yet another leaper program?
“You’re on the trail of someone?”
Her face had grown pale, and her eyes had a far off look. “I guess you could say that,” she murmured. “The surge could have been a leap in, or a leap out. I can’t tell. When we reach the epicentre of the surge, we could find either an active leaper, or just someone whose life was already ruined.”
“Ruined?” John tilted his head.
“Not all leapers have good intentions.” Alia’s mouth straightened, her eyes rimmed with red.
Then, she shook away the grave look, and met his eye.
“You… uh, I mean the Sam I know, helped me escape from them. I don’t know how, but I woke up in 1999. Since then, I’ve been waiting for my chance to get a hit on the tracker.”
John stroked his chin, pacing.
If there’s a Q, maybe there’s a Q with a goatee with his own agenda? Oh great. Which all-powerful being doomed Sherri, anyway?
“I wish I knew what world this was,” he lamented aloud. He hoped if he vocalised his thoughts, he could make better sense of what was happening. “It’s definitely not mine, if there wasn’t an invasion and it’s 2002. But that bartender in there, he just kept saying something about friends showing up, and…”
He looked at Alia. “Two thousand two was the other me’s contemporary year. Maybe…”
He squinted. “The Sam you know, he’s obviously a leaper. Can you describe more about him?”
She had just been watching him pace and gesticulate with a curious look. But now her expression grew warm.
“Okay… well, he was always on a mission to help people. Even me. He had a hologram who was named Al – maybe the same as your friend? And his computer, I think it was called Ziggy.”
That certainly lines up. Maybe Q’s in my corner after all?
“I once met an older version of myself,” he said. “It may be the one you know; and if it is, then I think I owe that bartender my gratitude.”
He stopped, and made a beeline for the motorcycle.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
* * *
Four Months Earlier
(Relative to John)
The day’s slaving had come to a close, and Sherri’s ‘unit’ was sent back to their sardine can quarters. Sherri hadn’t seen John for a while, and was getting nervous.
As silence descended on the cell, and most of its occupants had either gone to sleep, or were doing whatever escapism they engaged in, Sherri sat with the sinking feeling in her stomach that had been with her all day.
“Psst,” a voice whispered, and Tim crept to her bunk. “D’you wanna talk?”
Sherri nodded, patting the space beside her. Tim sat down, smiling.
“How come you ain’t been talking ’til now, anyway?” he asked quietly. She responded with a vague shrug.
“Guess I had to be shaken out of my… uh, status quo… a bit first,” she said cautiously, running fingers through her unruly hair.
Tim looked at her with a quizzical expression, before turning his gaze towards the door.
“Did the zap you got do all that?”
Sherri chuckled. “Sure, that must have been it.”
She reached out, touching his arm with her fingertips. In an effort to stay in character, she let her fingers trace a path to his shoulder, which they settled on.
“Listen, if I… if I told you I had a way for us to get out of here, would you believe me?” She held her breath as a look of sheer incredulity passed over his face.
“Well no, I wouldn’t,” he said plainly. “Since you have no eyes, maybe you can’t see just how impossible the situation really is, darlin’. We’re in it deep.”
He snorted. “And even if we did get out of this treehouse, where’d we go from there? Ain’t nowhere to hide.”
As predicted.
She leaned in, speaking in the lowest whisper she could, in case of surveillance. “I happen to know there’s a man a block or two from here who has a device that can get us away from the ’maggs for good. We just have to get to him.”
“And how would you know that?”
Sherri took a breath.
Time for the gambit.
“The ’maggs aren’t the only ones with… abilities.”
The ‘Psychic Gambit’ was the protocol reserved for times when Sherri would need to provide knowledge her host would never know, without giving away too much. She would claim to have powers such as premonition, remote viewing, mind-reading, or the ability to see and speak to John-shaped ghosts.
It only worked on those occasions where those she told believed in the existence of psychic powers. But in this case, the Kromaggs really did have certain mental powers, so it was hardly a stretch.
“I may not have eyes, but I have… other ways to see.”
Tim looked troubled. “I’d like to believe you, darlin’, but I’ve had my hopes up before, and it never did work out for anybody. Seen good friends die that way.”
Sherri closed her eyes and nodded. “I get it. If you change your mind, give me a shoulder tap, okay?”
He stood off the bed, and she looked up at him. “You look cute with stubble.”
He furrowed his brow as she gave him a knowing smirk.
As he climbed back to his bunk, a new sound came from the hall.
“My god, this place is a maze,” came John’s voice as he wandered, looking into each of the slave quarters. “Sherri, where are you?”
Sherri peered out of her bunk quietly, waving towards the door as he passed. He spotted her, and stopped at the electric field that separated the room from the corridor. He put a finger out to it, and both he and Sherri were startled to see the field respond to his touch. It didn’t shock him, but the diffuse pattern Sherri’s touch had caused in the field earlier was echoed in John’s touch. He looked at her with concern, before skirting around the field, and passing instead through the walls.
“Well, this is… all pretty damn terrible, huh?” he said, glancing around at all the despondent people in the bunks. Sherri nodded.
“Just checking in. You doin’ okay?”
She nodded again.
Given the circumstances…
“Okay. Good.” He looked at her with deep concern, and she realised it might not be for her.
‘What?’ she mouthed.
He rubbed his chin. “I don’t want to concern you with what just happened back home. You need to concentrate on the mission, right?”
Sherri glared. The look had its intended effect, as John flinched.
“Okay, if you must know… remember how I told you about that anomaly Higgins picked up before?”
Sherri raised her eyebrows, nodding once.
What about it?
John bit his lip. “Well it happened again earlier, and I had Will send Al to check it out, since he was free. But the thing is, he never came back, and his cell phone’s out of range, and Higgins can’t even find him.”
Sherri’s mouth dropped open.
He was right, he shouldn’t have told me.
She stared down at the floor, heart racing.
“Our best guess is that whatever that anomaly is, it somehow took him to wherever it went next. Or whenever.”
She brushed a tear from her eye, and bitterly wondered what she looked like to those around her, to be crying with sewn-up eyes.
“I’m sorry,” John said, crouching to meet her eye level. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
Sherri stood, and crossed to the back of the room, where toileting facilities – a grate in the floor and a faucet – were available behind a frosted partition. Once out of the eyeline of the others, she leaned against the wall and tried to bring herself out of her emotional state with breathing exercises.
“If it helps at all,” said John, following, “Higgins has got three escape scenarios lined up that have over fifty per cent odds.”
As Sherri breathed, she made a rotating motion with her hand, prompting further information.
“The first one is 76.1 per cent,” said John. “It involves your friend feigning a medical emergency, and you slip away after they deactivate the field.”
She pursed her lips.
Not only would that put Tim in danger once they see I’m gone, he wouldn’t even be able to escape.
“What else?” she whispered.
“Well, this one’s chances drop to 64.3 per cent. It involves beating up your guards during escort. You gotta liberate their particle weapons and make sure they don’t call for backup.”
“Third option?”
“Well, it’s only 52.8 per cent,” he said with a frown. “You can take your friend with you, but he’ll need to stick close and do everything you tell him.”
Sherri didn’t like any of these choices one bit.
“Thanks. I’ll sleep on it,” she murmured.
Her heart was heavy, as John flicked away to continue his vigil over Nexus Quinn, and she returned to her bunk. She knew she had to put thoughts of Al aside; he wasn’t any use thinking about while she was in this predicament. It was a distraction she just didn’t need.
And as for her choices: well, none of them were ideal. But, at least if she escaped on her own, she wouldn’t put anyone else in further danger. As much as she wished she could help all of these people, there was a lot more at stake.
As she drifted off to sleep, she realised that her decision was made.
San Antonio, NM
December 31, 2002
Quinn finished his second beer of the evening, and placed his feet on the opposite seat of the booth.
There was a light crowd at the tavern to ring in the new year. Quinn, Colin, Maggie, and Rembrandt sat in the corner, a spread of food and drink on the table. On the jukebox, a song by Eminem was playing.
Maggie frowned at the shoes now right beside her on the seat, and gave Quinn a bothered look. He pretended not to notice, as he popped a Dorito in his mouth.
This was the fourth New Year’s Eve they’d spent here in this tavern, which was one of the few places they could go according to the rules of the government. For any larger a place, such as Albuquerque, they were forced to apply for special permission, unless it was a medical emergency.
Colin was speaking, animatedly, to Remy about something, but Quinn hadn’t been tuned in to the conversation for a few minutes. Instead, he had been fingering the quartz crystal sewn into his jeans pocket, thinking about Sherri and John, and the mission that had brought him to this point.
Everything had been looking up, right until the whole thing with the Senator. Now Ziggy was shut down and Higgins was scattered.
Time had been on their side, but with their most vocal advocate in the Senate turning out to be some kind of spy, who knew what would happen to the Project’s funding now?
“Quinn, you have that look again.”
Quinn blinked, his gaze falling on Maggie. She had a tilted head and raised eyebrows.
“What look?”
“That deep, brooding look. You’ve been getting it all week whenever you go quiet.” She took a sip of her mulled wine.
“I’m just thinking.”
“Come on, loosen up for tonight,” she said, poking at his ankles beside her on the seat. “How many more of those beers do I need to supply you with before you relax?”
Quinn looked down at his empty glass. “Four, maybe five.”
He shrugged, figuring maybe it was for the best if he did ‘relax’ a little. He’d been wound up a great deal over all this. He’d spent Christmas writing security algorithms that he thought could be integrated into Ziggy.
“Well, I’m gonna go get you another,” she said, jumping to her feet and heading to the bar. At the jukebox, AC/DC started blasting one of their familiar riffs.
Quinn shook his head, and turned his attention to the conversation happening beside him.
“Wait, so Timmy is a doll?” Colin looked perplexed.
“Yeah,” explained Rembrandt, “but he’s brought to life with Tabitha’s witchcraft. Or, was. Kid’s dead now.”
“Wait, the character or the actor?”
“Both.”
“Really? The little guy? That’s so sad…” Colin frowned.
“Yeah, but he only looked like a little kid. Think he was 20 when he died.”
“That’s still really young to die, so I stand by my previous assessment,” Colin replied, before taking a swig of his own beer.
“You guys talking about Passions again?” Quinn asked, amused.
Rembrandt placed an embarrassed hand on his cheek. “Yeah. Stupid damn show, but I can’t stop watchin’, man. I need a new hobby.”
Quinn felt for Rembrandt, and similarly Maggie, who didn’t have a great deal to do with their lives in recent years, not with the government leash.
While Rembrandt lived and breathed soap operas and daytime television, Maggie spent her days working out and reading romance novels. It was safe to say that neither was fulfilled.
Remy’s only outlet was music, but the lack of a piano at their facility meant he could only really play when they were here at the tavern. The government had denied their requests for such ‘frivolities.’ And there was certainly no reviving his (or his double’s, as the case may be) career; not while the government had any say in the matter.
“Hopefully we won’t be stuck here much longer,” Quinn said, with an optimistic smile.
Rembrandt bit into a cracker, and chewed thoughtfully.
A jug of beer with a glass appeared in front of Quinn as Maggie returned to her seat, pushing his feet down in the process.
“Bottoms up,” she said, with a teasing grin. “I wanna see a big ol’ hangover tomorrow, got it?”
Quinn chuckled. “Only if you promise to keep up. I’m not suffering alone.”
“Deal,” said Maggie, and extended her hand. They shook, exchanging an amused look.
* * *
It was 11pm, and Colin cast an amused eye at Quinn and Maggie, drunkenly dancing near the jukebox, among a handful of other local revellers.
“Those two really let loose, huh?” Rembrandt said, following his gaze. It wasn’t that the two of them were stone cold sober; on the contrary. They had merely paced themselves, and were chilling instead of partying.
“They might be regretting this tomorrow,” Colin mused. “Still, it’s good to see Quinn having a bit of fun. He’s been… distracted lately.”
“Lot going on. It’s to be expected,” Rembrandt said, thoughtful. “He’s been carrying those burdens all this time. Now that it’s nearly crunch time, maybe it’s finally sinkin’ in just how heavy they are.”
Colin’s eyes moved down to the dissipating foam of his half-drunk beer. “Yeah, guess he’s not the only one feeling that.”
“What is this song?” Rembrandt said, suddenly distracted by the loud pop-punk coming out of the jukebox. Colin slumped against the table with a chuckle.
“I don’t think speaking the name will do it justice,” he said, producing a pen from his pocket, and scribbling the title ‘Sk8er Boi’ on a napkin. He handed it to Rembrandt, who cringed.
“Who’s picking the tracks ’round here, anyway?” he stood and looked over at the machine. Colin glanced in the same direction, to see a couple of women who were questionably of drinking age, hunched over the large CD-based jukebox, scrolling through songs.
“I’m gonna go salvage our night from bad taste,” Remy proclaimed, and headed over there, leaving Colin alone with his beverage.
As he turned his attention away from the dancing crowd, he noticed a woman coming into the tavern, a motorcycle helmet under her arm. She slowly scanned around the room, until her eyes made contact with his. Instinctively, he flicked his eyes away from her, and down at his drink.
Nonetheless, his peripheral vision told him she was coming toward him.
“Excuse me,” she said as she reached the booth, “This is going to sound weird, but have you noticed anybody around here acting… strangely recently? Out of character?”
Colin furrowed his brow. “I… no, I don’t think so. W-why?”
The woman shook her head silently, and moved on to another table.
Who is that?
He stood, and was about to pursue her, but something else caught his eye first: a man entering the tavern who Colin was pretty sure was supposed to be in Hawaii.
“Hey…?” he called across the room, catching the attention of Sam, whose eyes, upon spotting Colin, shot wider than he’d ever seen them.
Sam picked up his pace and closed the distance between them.
“Oh my god, Colin? I can’t believe it…”
Colin bit his lip. “I thought you were visiting your family? Is something wrong?”
A look of cautious confusion passed over Sam’s face. “My family?” Then something seemed to dawn on him. “Wait, did the other me find his way back?! That’s great!”
It seemed to Colin like this conversation wasn’t quite progressing in a normal fashion. “Okay, wait, let’s rewind,” he said. “Are you telling me you’re a different Doc Beckett?”
The Sam in front of him nodded. “Yeah… are you the Colin that grew up on Earth Prime?”
No way…
“I… I am. So does that mean you’re…”
Doc Beckett… or ‘John,’ as they’d dubbed him more recently, nodded, before drawing Colin into a hug.
“Wait, you know this guy?”
Colin broke away from the embrace to see the woman from before staring at the two of them. John was nodding to her.
“I thought you said this wasn’t your Earth?” she asked him.
“It’s not, but this is my former student, Colin. He’s one of the sliders I told you about.” He turned to Colin. “But I don’t know how you managed to join your brother in the end; I didn’t finish rebuilding Quinn’s machine for you before I got caught up in… long story.”
“Yeah, I know,” Colin lamented. “You gave me quite the basis, though. I managed to finish it myself. Eventually.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, and spotted Maggie and Quinn, absorbed in their dancing, with Rembrandt looking down at the jukebox behind them, tapping buttons. His mouth drifted open, and rose into a smile after a moment.
“She looks so young,” he murmured, and an old memory triggered in Colin, of Doc Beckett’s ‘cousin’ at the diner.
Sherri… she was Sheriff Maggie in her forties.
He thought about the convoluted, twisted timelines of their lives, and had to cringe. What a mess.
“How did you end up here?” he asked.
“I could ask the same of you, but somehow I think maybe it’s for the same reason,” John said, smiling enigmatically.
He gestured to the woman.
“This is Alia. I think she… knows the other me. You said he’s visiting family?”
“Hawaii,” Colin confirmed. John pursed his lips.
“Don’t suppose you have a number for him?”
Colin bobbed his head towards Quinn. “He’ll have it.”
Even after all this, Quinn hadn’t noticed John’s presence. He and Maggie were off in their own little world.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Colin watched John tap Quinn on the shoulder, and the look of dazed confusion pass over both his and Maggie’s faces, until John explained, at which point Quinn let out an excited cry. He and Maggie both wrapped their arms around John with drunken abandon, faces beaming.
Colin turned to the woman, ‘Alia,’ and extended a hand.
“So you’re from his Earth, huh?” she asked, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.
“I am,” Colin said, studying her face. “And you say you know Sam?”
“I do,” she replied, uneasy. “I also don’t know who to trust around here, so you’ll have to bear with me.”
“There’s a bit of that going around,” Colin muttered.
“Oh?”
Colin gave her a tight-lipped smirk. “Classified. Sorry.”
Alia snorted. “Of course. I’m sure Sam will fill me in if he thinks it’s safe to.”
“Want a drink?” Colin suggested. She shook her head.
“I like to keep a clear head,” she said simply.
* * *
The warm orange glow of the bonfire reflected off the surface of Sam’s Piña Colada as he reclined on the beach blanket, looking up at the clear night sky.
He pointed up at one of the larger points of light in the sky.
“That’ll be Saturn, right there,” he said to Donna, whose head was nestled under his arm. “If you look real close you can make out the shape of the rings.”
“I don’t have good enough eyes for that,” she replied, with a laugh. “And you probably don’t either.”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I just see a dot. But our imagination can fill in the rest.”
He looked up at it, wistful. “A mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.”
“That’s beautiful,” came the voice of Katie, who had wandered up behind him, aiming a camera at him and Donna. Sam squinted as it flashed.
“It’s a quote from Carl Sagan,” said Donna, breaking the poetic illusion.
“Of course it is,” Katie said, grinning, as she sat beside them. She held up her watch. “Midnight’s in just a minute.”
Sam nodded, sitting up. He looked through the flames of the fire to Al and Beth, who were whispering to each other, with broad smiles on their faces.
Beth noticed him looking, and pointed, saying something to her husband. He turned his head, and gave a quick wave back at Sam, before the two of them stood, and joined them on the blanket.
Sam’s mother, and Katie’s husband joined them from behind. As the midnight fireworks began, accompanied by the crashing waves of the Pacific, they all watched together on one large beach blanket.
I could get used to this, he thought, before catching himself.
I can’t get used to this. There’s still work to be done.
No sooner did those thoughts pass through his head, than the cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate.
And when he scrambled away from his loving family to answer, he became weak at the knees when he heard his own voice on the other end.
Quinn’s head was swimming, but John’s arrival had given him a jolt of adrenalin that provided a counterbalance to the alcohol’s sleep-inducing effects.
He had been sitting here, catching up with John, for a decent while – he didn’t know for sure, as he had lost track of the time somewhere around his fifth beer. He didn’t quite recall midnight striking, but he figured it must have happened at some point, since the tavern’s patronage had thinned to only a few people.
“So you’re tellin’ us you got here by riding some kind of cosmic pinball?” Rembrandt was looking at John with wide, bewildered eyes. Next to him, Maggie had the opposite look, leaning back into the corner of the booth, head lolling. Her eyes were almost shut, and expression vacant. She was checked out for the night.
“Uh, if you want to picture it like that, then sure,” John replied, a curious finger on his lower lip. “But it was less of a pinball and more of a… bar? Kinda like this one, I guess.”
“A bar that can travel back an’ forth in time and, and to other Earths?” Quinn squinted at John, his eyes struggling to focus. “Wait, Colin… didn’t…”
Colin leaned in, and Quinn gestured towards him, ceding the conversation to the more articulate brother.
“Um, was there a bartender there, who talked all cryptic like?” A smile tickled at Colin’s lips, and his eyes shone.
John and Alia exchanged a surprised look. “You’ve been there?!”
“Yeah, back in ’78 I stumbled on the bar,” Colin explained to a speechless John. “The guy didn’t take me anywhere, but it was like he expected me to swing by. And then he told me to say ‘hi’ to Sam as I left. So I asked Sam about it and found out he has a history with the guy, too.”
John looked like he had the wind knocked out of him. “He’s gotta be Q…”
“Q?” Colin and Quinn asked in unison.
John chuckled, his cheeks flushing. “Oh, it’s just what I’ve been calling the higher power the other me was always talking about.”
“Oh, like from TNG,” Quinn said, with understanding.
He yawned, and took a sip of the beer in front of him. He didn’t remember having got it, nor did he know how many that had been. But, it was in front of him, so he drank.
The jukebox was playing some slow song, and it was making him tired. He wondered for a moment who would put such music on in the small hours when it would send people to sleep, and it occurred to him that they might be hinting for everyone to clear out.
Rubbing his eyes, Quinn turned his head towards his brother’s seat, and noticed that he wasn’t there. And, across the booth, neither was Maggie.
He glanced around the tavern. The lights had dimmed, and they were the only people left.
“Hey, where’d Colin and Maggie go?” he wondered aloud, prompting a laugh from Rembrandt.
“Man, they left twenty minutes ago,” he explained. “Maggie got too sleepy, so he escorted her back. You said goodbye to ’em.”
“I did?” he mumbled. “Wow, I musta blacked out.”
He sunk his head into his hands, giving an embarrassed grin. “Of all times to see my old professor, huh…”
John regarded him with a warm smile. “You think I’ve never seen one of my college students like this? Don’t sweat it.”
Quinn watched Alia lean over to John’s ear and whisper something, before standing.
“I’m heading out,” she announced, picking up her helmet. “Lovely to meet you all.”
John nodded. “I’ll make sure these two get home okay, and I’ll meet you back at the motel.”
“Ah, you don’t have to do that,” Quinn said, waving a hand at him. “We’ll be fine. This is our turf, we’ll be fine.”
Rembrandt folded his arms. “We will be fine, but not ’cause of him.” He gave an appraising look over Quinn. “Reckon if you tried to walk it on your own, you might wake up in a ditch with a scorpion on your face.”
Quinn stuck his tongue out at Remy, though he didn’t argue the point.
He may be right. The thought made him laugh.
John smiled again, but it was more of a paternal look this time. “Quinn… just let me help you, okay?”
Quinn sighed, and his heavy head rolled back to the padded seat. “Man, all you Sams are the same…” he moaned, closing his eyes. “Such a goody two-shoes…”
And that was the last thing he remembered about that night.
* * *
The last time Quinn had been wasted like that, it was on the gunslinger world. But he was about eight years younger then, and his hangover had been manageable. Today, not so much.
Ugh. Being nearly 30 sucks.
He rolled over, blearily checking the time on the clock by his bed. Apparently, it was after midday. He noted that he was still in his jeans and t-shirt, and hadn’t removed his shoes. His jacket was in a pile on the floor.
He groaned as he climbed to his feet, and a dizzy feeling overtook his head. He stumbled into his ensuite, and ran the tap, taking handfuls of water to guzzle.
As he quenched his thirst, he ran through what he recalled about the previous night.
I didn’t just dream that John showed up, did I?
No, he remembered too much for it to have been his imagination. Excitement rose in his stomach once more as he thought about the unexpected encounter. They hadn’t known what happened to John and Sherri, but now they had a chance to fill in the missing pieces. They could have a full original history to work off now.
After swallowing some aspirin, Quinn headed out of his quarters, eyes squinting in pain at the harsh fluorescent lighting of the corridor.
He entered the common room, and was surprised to see it full. Rembrandt, Colin and Maggie sat on one couch, and John and Alia sat on the other. Maggie was wearing a pair of sunglasses.
Not a bad idea.
“Morning, sunshine,” Colin said with a grin. “How you feeling? Bad?”
Quinn glared at him a moment, before heading to the kitchen to get some coffee.
“What brings you guys here?” he asked John.
John looked at him with a serious expression. “Well, I had a long talk with Sam, and we agreed you needed to know what’s going on.”
“Oh great, you sound serious,” Quinn lamented, switching on the coffee machine, and returning to the group. He flopped down onto an armchair, and cradled his head. “What misfortune have we been gifted this time?”
Alia leaned forward. “This area may have been visited by a leaper without the… purest of intentions. Either recently, or currently.”
Colin looked at Quinn, awaiting a reaction. It was clear that the others had already had this told to them.
“Without the… what?” he closed his eyes, attempting to make sense of her words.
“Yeah, seems like someone’s been an impostor,” Rembrandt attempted to explain. “Someone trying to get a hold of some hush-hush information, maybe?”
“You don’t think it’s Grady?” Quinn asked nobody in particular.
“I narrowed the radius of the energy trace to San Antonio,” Alia said, “That means whoever was the… victim of the leap was in town when they either leaped out or in, early on the 23rd.”
“I don’t know where Grady was then,” Quinn muttered. “He was last seen snooping around on the 21st.”
“And the unknowns are the major issue, here,” explained John. “There’s always the possibility it wasn’t him, and there’s a traitor in our midst as we speak.”
“Like, midst midst?” Colin asked, suddenly on edge.
“Anybody,” Alia said. “That’s why I was asking around about people acting out of character.”
Quinn looked, wide-eyed, at his friends. Had any of them been acting odd? Not that he could think of. But the thought chilled him.
“Well, that’s not a problem,” Colin said, a large grin on his face. “I have just the thing!”
John cocked his head. “You do?”
“The Reality Lens,” Quinn said, exchanging a proud look with his brother. “It’ll reveal any leaper, easy!”
Alia’s anxious expression softened with hope. “You really have something that can do that?”
Colin sprang to his feet. “I’ll go get it.”
Quinn returned to the coffee pot, which was nearing its filling.
As he waited the last moments, he found his hand instinctively moving to his pocket, to make contact with the crystal.
But it wasn’t there.
Oh, shit.