Pearson Mui The Strange Medium Guy with a Bad Haircut In Association with Wrong Side of the Ocean, Inc. Presents Leap Years, Part Two Cast (in order of appearance) Doc2.................................................Pearson Mui Head Scientist...............................Dr. Richard Lambert Anderson.....................................J. Random Assistant Doc..................................................Pearson Mui Priss...................................Priscilla Sonoda Asagiri Largo...GENOM Corp. Type 481-A-S Hyper-Buma J-2073-D-2670-S-1871 Anri........................GENOM Corp. Type 33/S Replicant Anri Gryphon/Don Griffin.........................Benjamin D. Hutchins Nene...............................................Nene Romanova Linna.............................................Linna Yamazaki Q.................................................Corbin Bernsen Sylia.............................................Sylia Stingray Vision...............................................Reika Chang Leon...............................................Leon McNichol Pete......................................Peter David Ajlond-Mui Techie.................................................Percy Mui Maggie..........................................Margaret Simpson Harry...........................................Harrison Maxwell Elana.....................................Elana Irene Smythe Mui Kilrathi Arms Dealer............................Pa'kath Karod'kh Nigel...............................J. Random Weasel-type Person Eiko............................................Eiko Magami Rose PCHammer.............................................Martin Rose Noriko........................................Noriko Takaya Rose Murtaugh...................................Roger Thomas Murtaugh Rouse........................................Michael Brian Rouse Ditillio.........................................Markus Ditillio Girl..............................................Ashley Stevens MegaZone..........................................Brian Bikowicz Q2.................................................John DeLancie [?].This person's identity withheld for a cheap dramatic effect. Acknoledgements Once again, to Zoner, Gryphon, and ReRob. You guys have created something truly unique, and I think it may haunt you for the rest of your lives. (Just kidding! :-)) To Martin Rose, Chris Meadows, and the rest of the #Eyrie crew on IRC. Whether it was discussing the capabilities of an ion gun or just cosplaying, it's nice to know that you guys are there. If nothing else, it sure saves me the trouble of constantly e-mailing you guys. :-) To Mom and Dad, who *still* disavow any knowledge of this story. To Percy and Betty, my sounding boards for technical suggestions and comedy, respectively. All this, and they put up with me, too. Amazing what siblings are for, hm? To UIC, for the free Internet account, and for showing me what a frightening thing bureaucracy can be. Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! To the Internet, for obvious reasons. To Vasiliki Manetas, aka Vasia, for reading parts of this story and giving helpful hints. "I wanna know what happens to Doc during his second leap! And how come he ends up there? Are you finished with the story yet?" To those who wrote me about Leap Years, part 1, including Rydia, Jason Low, Philip Moyer (hmm...P. Moyer, P. Mui...coincidence?), and Rei Nakazawa. Thanks for the comments and compliments. Even I need an ego boost once in a (big) while. To anyone else I may have missed out of forgetfulness. And, of course, last but definitely not least, to you, the reader. If I wrote just for myself, nothing would get published. :-D =0C (Author's note: Because of the potentially confusing timeline of the story, I have included, by request, an addition as to when the event occurs in Doc's lifetime. A.L.=3DAfter Leaping, L2=3DLeap 2, L3=3DLeap 3. I hope this helps.) Chapter 20--------------------------------------------------------------------- "A healthy dose of paranoia will greatly extend your lifespan." --Mercenary's Handbook from _Mechwarrior_ SEPTEMBER 1, 2333 OUTSIDE THE ORBIT OF NEW JAPAN, ENIGMA SECTOR (340 years, 10 months A.L.) About 2 AUs from the world of New Japan, three warp distortions marred the star-speckled tapestry of space. On the third distortion, a small craft emerged. It was an odd vessel, even to those well-versed in space travel. The silvery-grey exterior and overall quizzical shape was reminiscent of a long-gone Terran groundcar, a DeLorean, rare even to devout collectors of 20th century memorabilia. Not surprising, since it was unique (the only vessels remotely similar were the WarpZone and his brother's hover-converted Grand Prix). The pilot, a young Chinese man (or so he appeared), looked over the controls with only mild interest. Just days before, he'd reluctantly bid farewell to the now-famous Thunder Force. He hadn't wanted to leave, but the future of the space-time continuum took precedence over his own happiness. Again. Doc2 sighed as he replicated another Pepsi. [This job really sucks. I don't envy my younger self any. Not at all.] Cloaking the vessel, he slid easily into re-entry. New Japan wasn't even aware of its unique addition to the population. <> NOVEMBER 4, 1992 THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT CHICAGO BEHAVIORAL SCIENCES BUILDING 9:20 A.M. The temperamental boards for the leap equipment had been replaced. How- ever, the stench still remained in the air. Everything was operating, but at jury-rigged levels, i.e., not nearly up to par. The scientists could observe when Doc's leaps occurred, but they couldn't in any way bring him back, at least, not yet. "Professor Lambert!" The hawk-nosed scientist looked up from his panel at his aide's cry. "Yes? What's wrong?" "I...don't know, sir. It's nothing like we ever expected." "Cut to the chase, Anderson. What does it mean for our boy?" "From this data, I'm guessing he'll be out of sync when he leaps in." "How long?" "Hmmm...shouldn't be more than a second. Should I try to correct his field strength, sir?" Lambert thought it over. "No. What could one second hurt? But, just in case, make sure he doesn't phase through the ground or anything." [It'd be too messy to pull him out if he's merged with the floor, and there goes my chance for a Nobel.] =0C Chapter 21--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Huwaaah..." --Doc OCTOBER 14, 2333 MEGA-TOKYO, NEW JAPAN 10:00 P.M. (0 years, 0 months, L2) (340 years, 11 months, A.L.) White. Everything was white, then fading to a light blue. The light blue then faded, and everything was dark. Doc collapsed to one knee and rubbed the back of his neck, groaning slightly. This did not get any easier with time. Wait a minute. Something felt...wrong. He didn't feel all there. He looked at himself in the darkened surroundings. Hmm...green jacket, blue jeans, glasses, and cheap Casio watch all accounted for. He rose up and tried to steady himself, still nauseous from leaping. To his surprise, his hand went *through* the desk! [What the hell's going on here?] Getting to his feet, he tried, unsuccessfully, to touch various objects in his surroundings. [Ahh, GREAT!] he thought sourly. [Looks like I'm out of phase or something...wait a sec...] He thought he heard something...kind of like a loud thump. He looked around, still disoriented, for the source. A loud CRASH! from above him got his attention. That, and the fact that a dark blue figure fell through him, scrambling to her feet. Reflexively, he dodged, wondering how, if he was phased, he could be walking. That thought was put aside as curiosity overcame alarm, and he approached her cautiously. "Um, excuse me, but..." No response. She was readying herself for some- thing. "Hello? HELLO?" He waved her hand in front of her helmeted face. "HEY!" No dice. Nobody could see or hear him. A man and a woman calmly walked down the stairs. Doc recognized him as Largo from the WDF files. The woman had unusual longish green hair. After the two of them walked towards the suited woman, four large, mechanical monstrosities followed in their wake. Largo gestured, and the suited woman was plastered against the wall, her helmet visor flying off and the internal faceplate shattering. Doc was numb. He made out bits and pieces of the conversation, which was in Standard, something about the woman, Anri, avenging her friend's death. Largo gave her a knife, and she charged towards the dark-blue armored woman. "No, wait! STOP!!" Doc threw himself in her path, hoping to disarm her. She ran right through him and stabbed the other woman in her side. "Sylvie...your death is avenged." she said, her eyes shut. The other woman, Priss, was crying, hugging Anri closer to her. She told her the truth, that something called the D.D. was about to explode at the time, and would have taken out the city with it. The bloodstained knife fell out of her side, clattering on the floor. Largo was smug. He asked Anri to move out of the way, and gestured. Anri pushed Priss out of the way, taking whatever he threw in her abdomen. She died in Priss's arms. And through it all, all Doc could do was watch. He watched as she took terrible hits, including a spike right in her shoulder. Priss, realizing that she was severely outmatched, engaged an emergency beacon, hoping for reinforcements to come. Within minutes, they did, in the form of three more women in high-tech armor. They fought Largo and his "SuperBumas," destroying the latter and dri- ving off the former, in the process converting what was just another floor into a rooftop. The damage was done, however. The others gathered around their wounded companion. Doc turned as he heard the sound of jets. It was someone else in an ar- mored suit. That someone landed, and took off his helmet, letting it fall to the ground. It was Gryphon. A thousand questions entered Doc's mind, but the foremost was, "why was Ben Hutchins here?" "Shit. Priss..." Priss tried to get up, saying something about being back on the street in a week. Not with those wounds, Doc thought grimly. In his experience, Priss was lucky that she was still alive. She wouldn't be, though. Doc blotted out most of the conversation, still in shock over what had just happened. He watched as they exchanged weapons, some kind of samurai tradition. Gryphon leaned over his dying friend. Doc did the same. "You know something?" she asked him. "No. I know nothing." "Well, then, learn something," she said with what could have been a half- smile. "I love you." "And I love you." he replied, holding her against him. Doc blotted some more of the conversation out, not believing his situation. "Kiss me?" she asked. Ben complied, until she slumped in his arms, his suit bloody. The rest of the women carried her body to some kind of aircraft. Gryphon stayed behind. Doc did, too. He needed somebody, even if that somebody was like a ghost. "It's not your fault," he wanted to say. "There wasn't anything anyone could do about her, Ben." Gryphon put on his helmet, and the suit faded away. "I'll never use that suit again," he muttered. "Never." In a small apartment, Doc2 sat helplessly on his bed watching the clock. 11:00. By now, Priss would be dead. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it, then or now. If he had interfered... [Damn it all!] He'd had a chance to prevent his wife's death, to stop the WDF breakup before it began. He'd had a chance to save Priss, armed as he was. Why didn't he do anything about these events?! A flash of white light was his answer. "What do you want, Q?" "Oh, nothing..." the omnipotent lied casually. "Just checking to see if you're still here...and there." he completed, indicating the GENOM tower. "Tell me something, Q." "Like what?" "Why is it that I leaped there, at that particular time?" "I think you know." "Q, don't play games with me." "You're no fun, you know that?" he commented sardonically. "Why?" Doc2 asked with a rapidly diminishing patience. "Well, picture this," with a snap of his fingers, the whole apartment seemed to shimmer into the scene that he had witnessed the first time around. This time, though, the viewpoint was that of an outsider. "Now, if you *had* materialized all the way, this is what would have happened." The image of Doc, in his green jacket, emerged from the blue-white brightness of his leap. Nauseous and confused, he was no match for Largo or his SuperBuma. He collapsed, wide-eyed, with a gaping hole where his intestines should have been. The image of him was quite dead. Along with Priss. The background lingered long enough for that to sink in before shimmering back to his apartment. "You see," Q said in a condescending voice, "it was very fortunate that you were phased. Of course, if you wanted to die, you wouldn't have been reunited with your wife, now would you?" That hit a nerve with Doc2, but he tried not to show it. "You still haven't answered my question, Q," he said through gritted teeth. "Why was I here?" He was unnerved by the omnipotent's silence. "You didn't direct me here, did you?" "The leaping process, while revolutionary at the time, could have been easily manipulated by those who had the power and knowledge to do so. Perhaps by those who were funding Lambert." "GENOM." he completed, a glimmer of understanding emerging in his eyes. "Or others." Q replied cryptically as he vanished. [Others?] Doc2 wondered. [Like who?] He sighed. [Well, I'm not gonna get any more answers out of him.] He relaxed on his bed. His younger self was surely in this timeframe by now. There were so many preparations to make, all in the name of continuity. [Who says time-travelling is fun?] OCTOBER 16, 2333 (2 days, L2) Doc watched as Priss was laid to rest in a cave out in the Badlands. Af- ter the funeral, he hitched a ride in Leon's car (he'd found that he could stand and sit down, just nothing much else) to the wake. He watched as Ben seemed intent on drinking himself to sleep, and as Nene and Linna cried their eyes out. It was hard for him to just stand there and watch someone cry. He tried putting his arm around Nene just to have it phase through. This was getting him absolutely nowhere except depressed. [Sorry, ladies, but I need time to think all this through.] Doc got up and phased through the wall. OCTOBER 21, 2333 12:05 A.M. (6 days, L2) [Hmph. Nice place.] Doc thought as he wandered wearily through the apartment building. Staying awake for almost a week was no small feat, although fear of phasing through the floor was a great incentive for him. He'd already had quite a few close calls, and the possibility of him phasing through a window only to fall through the ground into the planet's crust was certainly enough to keep him awake, if not alert. He'd done quite a bit of wandering during that time, and when the mood struck him, he just phased through a wall to see how Gryphon and his friends were doing. There wasn't much else he could do. [How long am I gonna stay like this?] It had almost been a week, and to be honest, he was getting a bit hungry...and thirsty. The temporal interaction field was obviously still working, but the question remained: How long? Turning, he found himself facing Nene's apartment. It hadn't been anything intentional. He simply let his feet do the walking. Yawning mightily, he idly checked his watch. 9:20:01 A.M. The familiar leap effect surrounded him, turning everything blue-white, then a blinding white. In the process, he could feel himself becoming...whole, for lack of a better term. The blinding light faded, and he collapsed face-first onto the door, making a solid thud. [Gee, I'm solid. I think I'll snooze now.] True to his word, he fell asleep on the spot. In her apartment, Nene Romanova hadn't been sleeping very well. The last few days had been hard on everyone. Being only about 19 years old, Priss's death had hit her especially badly. At that age, you don't think much about it, especialy not to someone you know. So, it should be no surprise that she was semi-awake upon hearing Doc fall asleep on her door. Groggy, she put on her slippers and, as a precautionary measure, took her sidearm out. You couldn't be too careful nowadays. Peering through the peephole, she was more than a little surprised to find Doc fast asleep on her door, leaning himself on what had to be an awkward and uncomfortable position. Of course, with her moderately diminiutive height, all she could clearly make out was something green with a zipper. She could also hear someone softly snoring on the other side of the door. [How'd he get here?] she wondered. Nene ran through several explanations for his appearance. Could he be a Buma? No...GENOM wouldn't be that subtle. A drifter? No, the last she heard, drifters usually carried things other than the clothes on their back. Besides, the apartment complex she was residing in was locked. Curiosity overcame caution as she carefully unlocked the door to the apartment and opened it, keeping the weapon handy. She let out a small yelp as she dodged the unconscious doctor's continuation of his interrupted fall. His face was quite abruptly introduced to the carpet, and he let out a small grunt. Turning over, he resumed his dozing. Nene put away the gun as she realized that, in his current condition, he was hardly a threat to anyone. Noticing that his wallet had fallen out of his pocket, she picked it up and examined it. She would've felt better if she knew who this guy was...although somehow, he seemed familiar. She couldn't quite place him, though. Inside was a train ticket, emblazoned with the words, "Metra November Monthly, 1992," several *very* old Salusian credits, and about ten old Earth dollars from about 1988. Unclasping the compartment where the various identifications and/or credit cards were, she was further met with anomalies: A driver's license from the old United States, specifically from the state of Illinois, proclaiming his birthdate to be January of 1973. Another, more contemporary ID, was right behind the license, and bore the words, "Wedge Defense Force Identification" for Lt. Pearson "Doc" Mui. She sighed as she put away the wallet. [Well, it couldn't hurt if he just stayed for the night.] Chapter 22--------------------------------------------------------------------- "You mean, there's no armada? One Gunstar, you, me, and that's it?" --Alex Rogan OCTOBER 21, 2333 6:00 P.M. (1 week, L2) Pearson slowly opened his eyes to find that the world had suddenly turned quite a bit more blurry than he was used to. Fumbling around, he found his glasses neatly folded beside him. He put them on. [Ah. Much better.] he commented to himself. Slowly, he changed his position from lying one to that of a more dignified sitting position. [Hmm. Poor kid must've been a tad surprised by my entrance. Either that, or she's at work...] Righting himself (he'd been sleeping on a couch), he began to acquaint himself with his surroundings. He noticed that he was in a comfortable all-purpose living/dining room that most apartments had. In front of him was a television, or at least one appropriate to the time he was in. To his left was the exit and a shelf. Directly in back of him, he guessed, was the kitchenette. To the right was where the bathroom and bedroom were. Curious, he made his way over to where the shelf was. There were various knicknacks, whatnot, and more than a few pictures. There was Nene in a high school uniform posing with a few friends. Another one of her, somewhat older, at her desk desperately trying to catch up on some paperwork. There were a few more snapshots, but the last one was what caught his eye. It was a group shot, and he recognized a few faces. [Hey, isn't that Tom? Oh, and there's Danilia. Geez, she always was short. Oh, there's Dund over there. Hey, I'm in this shot!] He peered a bit closer to the picture. [Asrial was right. I *do* look better with wire-frames.] Also present in the picture was a blonde girl with her hair done up in two long tails, and more than a few faces that he didn't recognize. Although...that tall guy over there, the one in purple...[Who's his tailor, Darkwing Duck? The guy looks damn familiar.] Nene was perched on his shoulder, smiling happily, wearing what appeared to be one of his fishing hats. She looked all of seven years old, he guessed. [If it weren't for the fact that he didn't take Omega-2, I could *swear* that the guy looked just like Marty. Well, with more hair and without his glasses, anyway.] As if on cue, the doorknob rattled as the lock was being fitted. The door opened, and Nene kicked off her boots, looking somewhat exasperated. "Hi." he waved weakly. "Well, I'm glad someone's awake," she said in a tone that wasn't quite grousing. She crossed the room and sat next to him. He yawned mightily. "What do you expect? I'd been on my feet for the past week. Literally. BTW, what time is it?" She seemed somewhat puzzled by the request, seeing as how he had a watch. "6:00. Why?" "Oh. I can live on six hours of sleep. Peachy." "Um, it's 6 o'clock in the evening." He eyed her dubiously, raising an eyebrow in the process. "The evening?" She nodded. "Oh. Well, I guess that explains why it's so dark out there." He sighed heavily. "Fun, fun, fun." "Can I ask what's going on here?" "Fair enough. I'm a time-traveller from the 20th century, undergoing an experimental leaping process which whisks me off further in the future every 20 years, and if I may say so, you seem pretty comfortable around me, a guy whom you've never met before. Most people kinda freak out when they see someone leaning on their door." "We've met before. At least, that's the feeling that I get." "Really? When?" "I'm not sure..." "Well, if you'll pardon me for looking around...I think that that picture might help." He pointed to the group shot. Somewhat puzzled, she peered at the old picture and recognized the green- jacketed doctor. "Oh, right...you were with Thunder Force after PCHammer visited. I should've remembered the jacket. I think I still have that fishing hat you gave me...it's somewhere around." "Wait a minute. PCHammer? Are we talking about the same PCHammer? Big guy, conservative, pun master?" Nene smiled. "That's him." "Eeent. Nope, nope, nope. That can't be." "Why not?" "Martin Rose never took Omega-2. I don't think he could've survived *this* long without some help." "You don't know about..." He waved his hands wildly. "I don't wanna know. I guess I'll find out later." [Hmm...make a note. Replicate some fishing hats when I get back.] he told himself. This was somewhat comforting in that he used "when" instead of "if." "And besides," she continued, "I couldn't exactly let you stay out there." The corners of his mouth pulled up in a smile. "Thanks. I owe you one." She shrugged. "That's okay." "I'm gonna ask you a couple of questions. Now, you've gotta promise to answer them, no matter how weird they sound." "I promise. Go ahead." "Well, first of all..." his stomach protested at having been sorely deprived. "Y'know any good restaurants? I'm starving." he said with a smirk on his face. "You're kidding," he said as he cleaned up his plate. He had just set his personal all-time record for devouring his food. "No, really. This is October 21, 2333." "Jee-zus quack. Y'mean to tell me that I've traveled 316 years into the future? Okay, forget that last part. 315 years, 11 months, 14 days and some-odd hours." He grinned. "Gotta be precise, y'know." "You mean, you just came in from the 21st century?" He pointed his index finger at her and made a "Ding!" sound. "You get a cookie!" he said in his enthusiastic game show host voice. "And now," he continued in the same voice, "for the grand prize of no monetary value except my admiration, respect, and gratitude, please answer the following question as fully as possible." She leaned closer and smiled. His enthusiasm was a bit contagious. "What's that?" she asked. His voice returned to normal...no, actually it was a bit more solemn than usual. His smile faded as he looked her dead-on. "What happened to make Ben Hutchins leave the Wayward Son?" he asked, his voice barely above that of a whisper. Her mood suddenly became a lot heavier. "You don't know? It's been about 45 years." "Know what?" "You really don't know?" "Well, I'm bound to be a little out of date on some things," he realized that something was very, very wrong. "Forty-five years since what?" She looked around awkwardly, not sure how to break the news. "Umm...It's been forty-five years since the Wedge Defense Force disbanded." The silence that followed was tougher to cut than a foot-thick block of tritanium. Doc leaned forward, his mouth open as if he were about to say something, then closed it to swallow hard. He took a deep breath and tried to form words. "Disbanded?" he croaked. She nodded silently. "How? When? WHY?" "I think there's something you should see." she said quietly. Back at her apartment, Nene had dug up a few records, one of which was a particularly grisly tape of a seemingly-maniacal Gryphon blowing away a classroom full of kids. Another record had a mention of ReRob's battle with Shasti. Then came MegaZone's rather pointed resignation, followed by the Wayward Son's destruction at the hands of GENOM. He sat back quietly, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "I don't believe it." he said after a considerable amount of deliberation. "I don't believe that a man like Ben Hutchins could even conceive of killing kids like that, and I don't think that it was a coincidence that GENOM came around when they did. Call me paranoid, but I think that the WDF was set up." "You think so, too, huh?" "I know so." he sighed. "I noticed something very, very odd after `Gryphon,'" he voiced the last part with considerable doubt, "blew away those kids." "The fact that he came back?" "Bingo. And if you look at his face as he turns around, you'll notice that his expression is one of confusion, not malice. He ran into something weird, and I think it was that `other him.'" "You noticed the facial expressions from this angle?" "Not only that, but the body language as well. Nobody living, short of a Buma, could shift emotional gears that fast." "How do you notice these things?" He cocked an eyebrow. "I'm a doctor. I get paid to be observant." He sighed heavily at what he'd just seen. [Ookay, so there's no more WDF, Gryphon's a wanted man, MegaZone has vanished, and the Lovely Angels are busy.] There was still one last loose end that had to be tied. [Hell, she's Salusian. She *should* still be around now.] "Nene," he said finally, "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to impose on you for one last thing." "Which is...?" He showed her the wedding band. "I have to know where my wife is." Several minutes later, after some digging around in the old United Galactica files (which were in a sorry state of disarray), Nene hit the jackpot. "Found her!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "Keriyn Ajlond-Mui, nee Ajlond, born June 5, 1970. Rank, lieutenant, assigned as Assistant Engineer onboard the Prometheus, attached to the SDF-17 Wayward Son. Married to Lieutenant Pearson `Doc' Mui on June 17, 2005. Four children..." "Wait a sec...I have children?" "Looks like it. You've got twin girls, Mandy and Megan, and two boys, Aaron and Peter David." She stopped reading aloud. "What? What's...?" he skimmed the sections that she'd already read, not including a single sentence at the end. DIED EN ROUTE FROM BETA MYAMID AFTER HER SHUTTLE WAS ATTACKED BY KILRATHI ON MARCH 9, 2250. The words seemed to jump from the screen and brand themselves on his brain. His face contorted, as his mouth attempted several times to form words. It succeeded in only one word. "No..." It was a quiet whisper, barely even audible. He wasn't even sure how long he stood there, perched over Nene's shoulder. "Doc, I'm sorry..." He didn't seem to be listening. His grip on her desk tightened, the knuckles of his hand whitening. His face was a whirlwind of emotions, but it barely represented what he was feeling. He was awash in grief, buffetted by denial, and pummelled by despair. Then, in the midst of this storm, love asserted itself like a beacon. In that moment, his resolve hardened to steel. In that moment, he had one mission. [I *WILL* see you again, Keriyn. No matter what.] Nene could see it in his eyes, and the way he set his jaw. Something big had just occurred before her, and she wasn't sure what it would lead to. "Doc?" she asked quietly. "I'm all right. Thanks." he said softly. "I...have a few friends. One of them might help you find a place." she offered. "Oh, I guess you mean Sylia, right? I don't want to bother Linna, and I'd *really* like to leave Gryphon with plenty of space to sort things out." At her widened eyes, he guessed that she knew what he was talking about. "Kid, I think I'd better explain a few things..." "That would be nice..." "You were phased? As in, you could go through walls?" "Yup." "And you didn't have anything else better to do than follow us around?" "Nope." "Is there anything else you want to tell me?" "Well...there *was* that one time..." he hesitated, his cheeks coloring. "What?" she demanded. "What did you see?" "I...sorta phased through a wall to Mackie's room...and I can say that he's definitely a healthy boy." "You mean...?" "Mm-hm." Chapter 23--------------------------------------------------------------------- "I need a vacation." --T-800 Terminator OCTOBER 23, 2333 (9 days, L2) Gryphon went through the kata with equal amounts of ferocity and grace. The ancient katana sliced through the air, weaving intricate patterns in the empty space of the dojo. It was as if he were trying to exorcise the invisible spirits from around him with the sword. That wasn't too far off from the truth. Sheathing the sword, he heard the faintest hint of a footfall, wary, cautious, yet unsure. The rustle of cloth against cotton, as if someone was jerking something down...perhaps a jacket. The footsteps slowly stopped, then reversed direction. It was as if the source had changed his or her mind. Outside the dojo, Doc seated himself on the cool earth. [What the hell am I doing?!] he asked himself. [Ben's got enough problems staying sane, for Christ's sake! Besides, what'm I going to say to him? "Hi, Ben, glad to see you, sorry about the mess you're in, and by the way, I'm in my second leap and I just happened to see someone you love get the shit kicked out of them and die?" I don't think so.] The air seemed to explode around him, knocking him back against the door. There were two more such explosions, and on the third sonic boom, a silvery- grey car emerged, the exterior temporarily freezing the water vapor in the air. DeLorean One screeched to a halt, not more than three feet in front of him. Tentatively, he got up and opened the gull-wing door. Inside was a message chip labeled "read me." Plugging it in, the player activated the holoprojector in the dashboard. The image recorded on the chip was of himself, something that Doc had been expecting. After all, who else had this kind of access to the DeLorean? "How's it going?" the holo-image of Doc2 asked, conversationally. "To be honest, like hell." Doc muttered. "Yeah, tell me about it." the image agreed, as if talking to his younger self. "Well, you're probably wondering why I'm here. The fact of the matter is, I'm you and you're me. The only difference is, I've been through a rather unique bit of Hell, and you're about to go through it." "Grreeaaat." "Relax. You'll survive. After all, I'm here, aren't I? Anyway, I'm digressing. We do that, don't we?" the image observed as it smiled. "Yeah, we definitely do." Doc agreed. "Mind telling me why you're not saying this in person?" "You wanna cause a rip in the space-time continuum? I was kinda cutting it close on Tarskon V, and on Salusia when Sweeney almost killed Ambassador Feeple. There was also that time when the Prometheus had a laser-coolant accident. Yeah, I was there, too, among other places. You'll find all the details on this chip. Don't worry, I didn't miss anything. If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust? Although, we're pretty hard to keep an eye on. Having a photographic memory helps, though." "So, what do I do now?" "Take that sabbatical. Clear your mind. Right now, you're no good as a doctor. You've had a lot crammed at you, and you need to sort things out. Above all, keep a low profile. The big `kill a Wedgie get a prize' rush is pretty much over, but there're still some hotshot bounty hunters out there who want some easy credits. Be careful, and you'll see her again." There was no further elaboration as to "her" was. There was no need. Doc sighed as the projection ended. [Great. Well, I'm right about one thing. Right now, I'm no good to anyone as far as being a doctor is concerned. I need to sort things out.] The door to the apartment opened, the occupant distracted by the three sonic booms that had occurred earlier. He wasn't sure what he was going to find, but it sure wasn't the sight of the DeLorean. "Doc?!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" "Well...I guess you could say that I get around. Tell your friends that I'll be in touch, okay? In the meantime, I'll catch you later." Doc said as he entered the car, closed the door, and started his vacation, leaving a very puzzled Gryphon behind. Chapter 24--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Physician...heal thyself." --James T. Kirk DECEMBER 24, 2334 (1 year, 2 months, L2) If nothing else, Vision and the Revengers could really pack in a crowd. The atmosphere was jubliant as members of the band and their friends celebrated the holiday season, contrasting the quiet snowfall outside. Everyone present was feeling quite a bit of cheer. Except, of course, for the brooding young man in the corner. He was nursing a rapidly fizzling Pepsi, having refused anything stronger. Right now, he was wondering how his friends had talked him into this. He wasn't exactly trying to "find himself," per se. He'd done enough contemplation during his "sabbatical." [Why do I even bother?] he asked himself, gulping his drink. After the Knight Sabers' encounter with Vision, he'd returned to Mega-Tokyo. He hadn't been there at the time because of his wanderings around the planet. He glanced over his shoulder to find said Vision having a few laughs with the lead guitarist, Don Griffin, as he strummed a few chords. Doc marveled briefly at how close the two had become in such a short time. He had the distinct feeling that samurai lessons wasn't all that she was learning from Mr. Griffin, aka Ben Hutchins. Then again, it wasn't really any of his business, now was it? [It's so odd seeing Gryphon laugh again. Odd, but not a Bad Thing (tm). Hell, it's good to see anybody remotely happy after the past year.] The corner of his mouth pulled up in a faint smile as he sipped more of his drink. Maybe it was the festive mood. Maybe it was the season, but his mood was definitely picking up. "Doc?" He shifted his gaze to his right. "Oh, hey Linna. What's up?" he asked as he offered her a seat. "Nothing much," she replied, taking the chair. "You seem to have brightened up a bit...what's the matter?" she asked jokingly. "Ha ha ha. Very funny." he deadpanned. "I guess I'm just dealing with everything that's been tossed my way. Anyway, what kind of slander did, uh, `Don' tell you girls about me?" "Well, he says that you both go way back..." "I'm not much for football," he joked. A grimace twisted her usually pretty face. "That's another thing. He also says that you're almost as bad with puns as Martin Rose." "Really? I'm...not quite sure how to take that." he Kirked. She continued, "He also said that you were..." she hesitated. "A widower, right?" She nodded, her mood shifting. "I'm...sorry I brought that up. Excuse me." she began to get up. "Whoa, whoa. Sorry for what?" "About your wife. I don't know, I just..." "Linna," he began, one eyebrow raised. "Never apologize for something if you know you're right. And another thing..." he was rudely interrupted by the distinct sound of a body collapsing. Said body belonged to a petite redhead who, again, hadn't taken into account her body weight when imbibing. Translation: Nene was drunk again. "Huwaaah..." he muttered, covering his face with his hand. "One of these days, you'd think she'd know when to stop." "She just gets a little carried away, that's all." "Hmm...Well, I guess I'd better get her home, sobered up, the whole deal." "What, now?" Linna asked, somewhat dismayed. "It's snowing outside. Traffic's bound to be..." "I don't worry much about traffic since I got my car," he replied with the first genuine smile she'd seen on him. "When you've got a clearance of about a foot off the ground, traction isn't a problem." The ride to Nene's apartment was pretty peaceful, interrupted by the occasional snore of the redhead and Leon's grumbling (he'd volunteered to help the kid back with Doc.). "I can't believe that she doesn't know her limit, Doc." Shrug. "Well, she's basically a happy-go-lucky girl. Besides, when you were her age, did you have a lot of restraint?" "Hell, no. I've done worse." Leon admitted. "See what I mean? How's she doing, anyway?" Leon glanced backwards. "Still snoozing away." For a second, Pearson noticed that Leon regarded Nene with something other than cool detachment. It was almost as if he was...fond of the kid. Quickly remembering that he wasn't alone, the half-smile that had formed faded. Pearson half-smirked. "She has that effect on everyone, Leon." "What effect?" Leon deadpanned. Pearson shook his head. "Never mind. Well, here we are. Y'know, if I knew that I was going to carry around passengers, I would've made this thing a four-door." Opening the doors, the two helped out the unconscious redhead out of the car. "I don't suppose you have a key to Nene's apartment?" it occurred for Pearson to ask the taller man as they approached the door. "I've never needed one before." "Great. I am *not* digging around her pockets for her keys." "What else can you do?" "Hmm...." a devilish grin formed on his face. "*What* are you going to do?" Leon demanded, not liking the expression on Pearson. "Nothing illegal, immoral, or anything that'll hurt her." "What?" "I can guarantee that it's going to be 100% effective." "WHAT!?" Leon roared. Nene continued to quietly snore away. "I'm going to put snow down her back." he stated simply. Leon eyed him incredulously. "You are *not* going to..." "If you've got a better suggestion, let's hear it." "....." "Uh huh. Hang on to her for a sec, will ya?" He grabbed a generous amount of snow from the side and packed it into a fair-sized snowball. Pulling back her collar, he dropped it down her back. "YEEEE! COLD!" she squealed, jumping around to rid herself of the snow pack. Succeeding, she fixed Doc with a semi-alert glare. "What was *that* for?!" she hissed. "The next best thing to coffee, which I didn't feel like making," he said, smirking. "Now, would you mind opening up the door?" One elevator ride and many grumblings later, the trio finally made it to her apartment. Upon opening the door, Nene half-threw herself on the couch. "Is there anything else you need?" Pearson asked, somewhat more gently than earlier. "Sleep would be nice," Nene stated while suppressing a groan. "Something to get rid of this headache would be great." "It's on its way," he said, backtracking to the DeLorean. She sighed and rubbed her temples. "I really overdid it tonight, didn't I?" Leon shrugged. "Maybe a little." "I didn't know you cared." she said, a ghost of a smile making its way across her face. "I didn't know you could get this carried away. At least you didn't start dancing on the tabletops." "How did you...?" Leon merely smiled. "Oh, I have my sources." Before she could ask who the guilty party was, Pearson re-entered the apartment with a rather heavy-looking black bag. "Oookay, one hangover-killer coming up. Say `ahh.'" "I can take my medicine on my own, thanks," she eyed the small pill dubiously. "This is it?" "Well, it'll help clean up the night's work, not to mention that little nuclear reaction that's exploding inside your head, yeah. I gotta warn ya, though...it's not exactly the best thing you've ever tasted." Shrugging, she gulped the pill. Almost immediately afterwards, she grimaced, her face contorting to form a mask of utter disgust. "Yeeccch! Augh! Ewwww...that is the most disgusting, repulsive, repugnant thing I've *ever* tasted!" She continued her rant, barely pausing to accept a bottle of orange juice to kill the taste. Several minutes later, she began to slow down. "How d'you feel now?" he asked, one of those infuriatingly impish half-smiles on his face. She blinked. "Umm...better." she admitted sheepishly. "Good. Well, since I seem to have been appointed designated driver, I guess I'd better head back to the party and see if anybody else is doing the alcoholic crash and burn. But, before I go..." he rummaged around his bag and produced a small gift-wrapped package. "Here y'are. Don't say that I never got you anything. Coming, Leon?" "Nah...I'll catch a cab." "You're gonna need a big net." Pearson quipped as he retreated outside. "Is there something you wanted to talk about, Leon?" "...No, not really. Just...well, here," a small package found its way to her coffee table. "Merry Christmas, Nene-chan." he mumbled as he exited. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have been curious to see what the two had given her. However, due to the night's activities, sleep mugged her from an alley and dragged her in. She was snoring on the couch not thirty seconds after he left. Leon breathed out a frosty plume as the cold air hit him. [She is kind of cute.] he admitted. [Now...where's a taxi when you nee---what the hell is he still doing here?] "Oi, Doc! How come you're still here?" "Well, I was all ready to leave and everything when a thought just hit me. Y'see, I didn't notice any cabs around, and I figured, what the heck. Might as well wait for you to come out." "Uh huh." Leon deadpanned as he opened the passenger's-side door. "So, where to, mac? Personally, I prefer PC's, but that's another story." "Y'know where my place is? I'm partied out for tonight." Leon said as he leaned back. "Gotcha. I hope she likes the music box." "Can I ask you how you knew about that?" "You? Wait a sec...that's what *I* got...ah, nuts..." he groaned. "Don't tell me. We *both* got her a music box. Isn't there such a thing as an original idea?" Pearson sighed. This was going to be a loooong ride. Chapter 25--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Life's been good to me so far." --Joe Walsh DECEMBER 24, 2343 (10 years, 2 months, L2) (351 years, 1 month, A.L.) Life was good. It had been ten long years, but now, things were looking up for him. The mess with GENOM had been settled, at least on this planet, and he had a relatively thriving private practice. Humming a little holiday tune to himself, he pulled out the keys to his apartment. He inserted the key inside the lock and was about to open the door when he saw a small handwritten note below the doorknob. It read: Get out, NOW! What was strange about the note was that it was in *his* handwriting, sloppy as it was. He yanked the key out of the door and turned around to run. That was about as far as he got before his apartment exploded, knocking the door off its hinges and slamming him against the wall. "Oog." was all he had to say before slumping on the floor, unconscious. When he came to two minutes later, he shoved the door off him and went to check out the damage. The apartment was a total wreck. Spraypainted on the wall were the words, "Wedgie fuck off!!" and other such oh-so-original expletives. Sure, he wanted southern exposure, but not a gaping hole in the wall. What to do now? [First things first. Salvage what I can of this place.] Done. [Now, try to find someplace to stay for the night.] He dialed up various hotels only to find out that they were all booked. Which meant...calling up one of his friends. Sylia? No...she was nice enough, but kept herself distanced from most people. Reika was out. She'd left this year, in search of Gryphon. [I hope she finds him...although, I think Ben'll be mildly surprised to find that he's...] He put the thought out of his mind. Although he'd found that out quite by accident, it wasn't really any of his business. Which left Linna and Nene. Hmm...Linna was probably sleeping off the night's celebration. Wouldn't be a good idea to bother her. He sighed. [I hope she doesn't mind the last-minute call.] Doc dialed up her number. One ring. Two rings. Three. Click. Nene's sleepy face appeared on the vidscreen. "Hello?" "Hi, it's me." Her eyes widened. "Doc?" "Yeah. Listen, do you mind if I spent the night at your place?" [Argh. Let me rephrase that.] "I mean, my apartment's just been bombed, so do you mind if I..." He did one of those George Bush hand motions to try to get his point across. "What? Are you okay?" "Yeah, fine. It's just that the place is a total loss. See?" He ges- tured to what used to be the outer wall of his apartment. Now, it was just a gaping hole. "So...is it okay if I...I mean, until I find another place." "Sure." [Oh. Well, that was easy.] "Great. Thanks, I owe you two." "Two?" "One for waking you up, and the other for imposing on you." She flashed a mischievious smile. "How about calling it even with a hot fudge sundae?" "I don't think your diet would allow for it." She sighed. "It was worth a try." "I'll see you in a couple of minutes. Bye." The vidscreen flickered off, and he hurriedly packed all his meager belongings into the DeLorean. On his way to Nene's apartment building, he vaguely noticed someone trudging in the snow wearing an overcoat and a fishing hat. The lapels of the overcoat were drawn so that Doc couldn't get a good look at his face. [Now there's a suspicious character,] he thought. [I wonder if I should... nah, better leave him alone.] Doc converted the car for flight mode and hovered over the snow. The stranger let out a sigh. That was too close. [Well,] he thought, [I guess that means I got my note. Otherwise, I'd have been a lot worse than just unconscious for a few minutes.] He made his way to a snow-covered car and raised a gull-wing door. Get- ting in and closing the door, he took off his fishing hat and brushed his vaguely-combed black hair away from his right eyebrow. Doc2 turned on his lights and hovered away. JANUARY 7, 2344 (10 years, 2 months, L2) Doc packed up his belongings in the suitcase and hefted it into the backseat of the DeLorean. Admittedly, there wasn't all that much, having left most of his various collections on Earth in the past. "Oi, Doc." "Hey, Leon. What's up?" [Jeez, does he always wear those sunglasses?] Doc wondered. The taller man shrugged. "Nothing much. Where're you headed off to?" "Oh, I dunno for sure. I hear the Vega sector's got some opportunities for a doctor like me, no questions asked." "Mind if I ask why?" "Well...I'm going for the Gryphon explanation." "You think you've stayed here too long?" The way Leon voiced it, Doc wasn't sure whether or not it was really a question. "Yeah," He took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy. "I can't let others be hurt as a result of my presence. That bomb in my apartment just reminded me of how dangerous things could be for me...and my friends." Leon shook his head. "First Gryphon, then Vision, and now you. Is there something wrong with the tourist attractions in this place?" "Well, maybe if there was a Funland around..." the smile faded. Gryphon had left in 2335, Vision sometime last year in search of him. Leon was right, this was a disturbing trend. "Y'know, Nene-chan's gonna miss you. When Linna found out, she couldn't believe it either." Cool front or no, that was his way of saying that he would miss Pearson. "It's not like I'm gone forever, just that I can't stay. I'll visit." "Right," Leon said, somewhat disbelievingly. "I mean it. I'll be around, say...October." "Any special reason?" "Yeah. Just one..." The silence that followed spoke volumes between the two men. It was Doc who broke it. "Anyway, I'm just going to cruise around the galaxy, that sort of thing. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a job around. After all, it's not like J. Random Bounty Hunter is going to be after my head." "You have a point." "Just...just tell the girls that I'll be around, okay?" "You've got it." "Get clear, Leon. This thing makes a hell of a backwash when I take off." The policeman complied. Before him, the DeLorean steadily rose, its tires rotating 90 degrees perpendicular to their formerly vertical position. About 500 feet in the air, the car blasted off. Chapter 26--------------------------------------------------------------------- "A gah, geh, gah...bweh?" --Doc, upon being promoted to Lieutenant MAY 5, 2344 ALTAIR V (10 years, 6 months, L2) Doc had found a nice place to settle down for a while on Altair V. It was a moderately populated world with a few cities, but not too much pollution. The relaxed attitude found there was pretty contagious, which was a welcome relief from the mild paranoia that he'd been forced to live with. This, unfortunately, was the main reason that he'd been caught so utterly unawares. On his way to the car, several tough guys oozed out of a nearby alley and attacked him. Being a tad rusty, he managed to knock down two of them before a phaser stunned him. The toughs surrounded him, wondering what they were going to do with the doctor and his car. Their ruminations (limited as they were) were cut short by a barrage of green stun pellets. Unconscious, they slumped to the ground, and Doc's savior made himself visible. He was a tall, thin, young man, about 3 inches taller than he was. The most striking feature about him that was noticeable, at least as much as the dim lighting allowed it, was his set of pointed ears. Peter David Ajlond-Mui put away his version of his father's keychain stunner and knelt over Doc's prone form. "Pop?" No response. He was out like a light. Pete sighed. [You'd think that at his age, he'd be more careful. Oh, well. Might as well get him in the car.] He hefted the unconscious man through the partially open door of the DeLorean. [Funny, the car looks a lot newer than I remember.] Shelving that thought for the moment, he (with the aid of the keys) started up the car and headed for his place. Blackness. Strange smells. Movement. Doc's mind began reorganizing itself in light of the heavy stun he'd received. He knew that he wasn't in the parking lot of the hospital, that was for certain. Opening up his eyes, the world resolved itself into focus, despite the lack of his glasses. Omega-2 had written out his nearsightedness, but he still kept wearing glasses. If nothing else, he was definitely a creature of habit. The place was small, but comfy. It was relatively well-lit, but was somewhat lacking in personal touches. Noting a picture on the nightstand, he examined it to find a young boy and himself the subjects. The boy had a remarkable resemblance to himself...except for the pointed ears. His image in the picture was one of unrestrained pride as the boy held up his catch (apparently, it was a fishing trip), a five-pound bass. [That place looks a lot like where Dad, Percy, and I used to go fishing.] The door creaked open. Apparently, it wasn't one of the sliding door jobs. Pete looked in from the crack and, satisfied that his father was awake, strode in with a tray of food. Doc was more than a little surprised at the appearance of the youth...especially those ears, and the thin build. "Hey, Pop. How're you feeling?" Doc mouthed out "Pop?" Looking around, he found that he and Pete were the only residents of the room. [Yeah, I guess he's talking to me.] "Uhh...I'm okay, just a little dizzy." "No wonder. You took a phaser stun almost point blank. Good thing it wasn't near your brainstem, or I'd be an orphan." "Orphan?" "Yeah, you know..." Pete went on casually, then switched to patient tone that Doc himself used when the younger Mui was being especially trying. "You're my father, I'm your son...well, the youngest of the bunch anyway. Remember? I'm the kid that always threatens to give you ulcers? The no-goodnik of the bunch? The guy without a clue as to what he should do with his life?" "Aahhhh...son...Jee-zus quack, I don't even know your name." Doc muttered. "Peter David Ajlond-Mui. You named me after the author of one of your favorite ST:TNG books," he explained. "You really don't remember me, do you?" "Uh, well...Did I ever tell you that I'm a time-traveller?" Pete snorted. "Oh, yeah. What else would explain all those `one-hour vacations?'" At Doc's confusion, he explained. "Well, we'd pack up everything in the car, zoom out of the Wayward Son, have our vacation, then when we were done, we'd go back to an hour after we left so that, to everyone else, we'd just be gone for an hour. Nice way of having a two-week vacation on your lunch hour." he grinned. "`Course, when we were pressed for time, we'd have one-second vacations. *That* got a little confusing." "I...take it we went fishing together." "Oh, you mean the picture. Yeah, we had a fishing trip down to your old stomping grounds on Earth, that forest preserve...what was it, Bussing, Bus?" "Busse Woods?" "Bingo! Had a great time, there, too." "You ever get the feeling that your mother and I spoiled you?" "Spoiled? Hah!" the younger man scoffed. "There was this one time I wanted that grav-bike so bad, I could taste it. I was practically begging you and Mom for the money, but you and Mom said, `No, half-Detian or not, there's a good chance you'll break your neck.' So, anyway, there was this one time you left your bankterm on, password entered and everything. All I had to do was punch in the amount I needed, and I'd get my bike. Know what I did?" "What?" "I looked at it, I thought about it, and I turned it off. Later, I found out that you and Mom were watching me, counting on my conscience to be my guide or something like that. I hate it when you're right about me." "Well, maybe you take more after me than you'd care to admit." "Maybe...So, does all this sound familiar?" "Not yet, but I have a feeling it will. Y'see, to me, none of this has occurred yet. `Course, I just left 2017 a couple of years ago." "Twenty--Oh, right! You're on your second leap, aren't you, Pop?" "I told you about that?" "Oh, sure! Everybody in the family knows. It's no big, dark, secret. This is so weird. You're my father, and yet, you're younger than me." "Leaping...." Doc began. "Fun, fun, fun." the both of them finished. "Damn. You did learn a lot from me, didn't you?" "Not that much. Anyway, I take it you're feeling better if you're being this verbose." "Ehh...could be." "Well, I got you something to eat. It's not much, but..." Doc sniffed at the tray. "Spinach soup?" "Yeah. I think it was grandma's recipe, I'm not sure. You taught...uh, *will* teach it to me...when I headed off for college. You...ahh---I'll just go in past tense now, it's easier---said to me, `Son, you've gotta learn how to cook, because you can't just live on fast food alone.'" "That, and the fact that you'll clog your arteries in no time." "Weelll...that's not exactly true for Detians and people like me. We can pretty much eat what we want." "Yeah..." Doc's mood turned pensive. "So, could I ask what you're doing right now?" "Now?" Pete asked, surprised. "I guess I'm something of a journalist. I dunno...I'd *love* to be on GNN, but I've been thinking about writing a few things down." "Part of your namesake, maybe?" "Maybe. I just dunno if I can cut it, that's all, Pop." "Son, if that's what you want, then *go* for it. Remember, `Nothing is impossible'..." "...`merely improbable, impractical, or unfeasible,' right?" "I get the feeling I've said that more than a few times." Doc observed. "Eehhh...just slightly less than two billion." Pete smirked. Something occurred to him. "Just one last thing..." "About?" "Your brother, Aaron, and the twins. How're they doing?" "Well, last I heard, Aaron's studying his doctorate on Tarskon V." "Wait, wait, wait...Tarskon V? The planet that had a plague back in 2001?" "Bingo. Some of the best doctors come out of there. Anyway, he's almost got his third green stripe," At his father's confusion, he elaborated, "They give you green stripes to show how advanced you are. Three green stripes shows that you're a full-fledged doctor. Guess you made a pretty big impression back there, huh?" Doc shrugged. "It wasn't any big deal. What about the twins?" "They're playing in an orchestra. Scratch that, Mandy's in an orchestra and Megan's keeping an eye on her while reading technical journals. I don't think there's any bit of information that she hasn't soaked up about starship engines. 'Course, I could be wrong. Meggie-tron always did take more after Mom than any of us." Doc raised an eyebrow. "`Meggie-tron?'" "Yeah. She *hates* that nickname." "I can see why." His stomach protested at having been ignored up to this point. "Hmm...gee, d'you think you're hungry, Pop?" Pete quipped. "Naaahhh..." MAY 6, 2344 (10 years, 6 months, L2) "Heading off so soon, Pop?" "Yeah. Call me weird, but I prefer not to be a burden on my kids." "Okay, `weird.'" Glare. "Okay, okay, sorry. Yeesh." Pearson's gaze softened. "Lemme ask you something, Pete." "Well, if it's about my apparent lack of a social life..." "No, no, no...d'you think that Ben Hutchins is innocent or guilty?" Pete wasted no time in replying. "Pop, I honestly think that, to coin a phrase, the guy was framed like the Mona Lisa." Pearson smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." Knowing that one of his kids had the same idea as he did on that subject was comforting. It meant that he would bring them up well. Correction, he and Keriyn would bring the kids up well. "Take care of yourself, okay?" "Hey, no problem, Pop." Chapter 27--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Have you ever had one of those lives?" --PCHammer NOVEMBER 5, 2350 (358 years, 1 day A.L.) [This is bad. Really, really bad.] Doc2 thought to himself as he tried to rush people onto the various shuttles at the spaceport. Normally, the mining colony on Beta Hercules was relatively peaceful. The air was clean, there was plenty of sun, and the mineral and dilithium deposits were almost on par with those on Janus. These were far from normal circumstances. Beta Hercules was about 100 light years away from Cardassia. Nevertheless, the colonists never felt overly threatened by the Cardassians, since the United Galactica had signed several treaties that clearly stated that the mining colony was well within UG space. For several years afterward, the colony prospered from the planet's rich resources. Until an ambitious Cardassian by the name of Gul Ylar arrived with three Galor class cruisers behind his own formidable ship. He issued an ultimatum: Evacuate the colony, or be destroyed. Cardassia no longer recognized the authority of the UG in that sector of space. The United Galactica, bogged down in red tape, mired in bureaucratic minutia, and thinly spread, was slow in determining a course of action. In the end, there was nothing they could do. No action was forthcoming from the once-mighty organization. It was barely keeping itself going, much less maintaining order in its boundaries. "Come on, let's move! Let's move!" he yelled, trying to keep the evacuation as orderly (yeah, right) as possible. Throngs of people clutched at their belongings. More than once, someone tripped at his feet, only to be helped up by him. There was another, more pressing incentive for evacuation. Somehow, the Cardassians had obtained the override codes for the mining Bumas. The mechanoids began running amuck, forcing people out of their homes, and demolishing everything in their path. Those same Bumas were herding the colonists to the spaceport. To the layperson, it would appear that, given the Cardassians' cruel reputation, Gul Ylar was being quite merciful and generous to the population. That wasn't quite true. He merely utilized the most efficient means at his disposal. The crowd was beginning to thin out. There were only a few stragglers left. Just as Doc2 was helping the last of them onto the shuttle, there was a young boy, not much older than 10, rushing to that last ship out of the colony. He tripped, becoming easy prey for the Bumas. "Harry!" a voice exclaimed from within the shuttle. "Stay here! I'll get him!" Doc2 barked, and dashed towards the boy. Whipping out his ion gun, he set it to supercharged mode and began firing at the makeshift mechanical army. Blue-white bolts sizzled through the air as the mechanoids stopped dead in their tracks, faint blue lightning playing over their surface. Sprinting towards Harry, Doc2 scooped him up and dashed towards the last shuttle. Handing Harry off to who appeared to be his father (they shared the same grey eyes), Doc2 ran to what appeared to be empty space. "What're you doing?!" Ben Maxwell demanded. "Take off without me! I've got my own ride!" "But..." "GO!!" Doc2 waved him off. Moments later, the DeLorean shimmered out of thin air, and he boarded it. Taking off, he strafed the Bumas with a barrage of phasers. Heading towards the mines, he armed the micro-torpedoes. [They may have the planet, but no way in Hell am I going to let them get at the mines, at least not easily.] The DeLorean spat out four torpedoes which impacted on the main entrance of the dilithium mines (destroying the dilithium itself was a highly dangerous proposition. It would've started a chain-reaction that would gut the entire planet, and render it uninhabitable.). Tons of debris fell over the entrance, sealing it. Satisfied, Doc2 blasted well away from the colony, engaging his warp drive when he was clear of the gravity well. In the shuttle, Harry Maxwell watched his home recede from view as they made their way. All things considered, the Cardassians had been very easy on them, but it didn't feel that way to Harry. Beta Hercules was the only home he had known, and now it was gone for reasons that he couldn't fathom. "Harry?" "'M right here, Dad." "You okay, son?" The boy shook his head in confusion. "Why? Why did they take our home?" "..." Ben Maxwell had no answers to that. Chapter 28--------------------------------------------------------------------- "One more time outta do it...one more for the road." --who the heck sang this? OCTOBER 14, 2353 9:55 P.M. HOFFMAN ESTATES, ILLINOIS, EARTH (19 years, 11 months, 30 days, 23 hours, 55 minutes, L2) Doc sat idly in the recliner, pondering the events of the last few years. After leaving Mega-Tokyo, he pretty much wandered around Federation space as a missionary, going to various planets to help the population where he could. After a few close encounters, he decided to buy a little bit of insurance, namely, a British-Animetech beam saber. He had become proficient with the blade in a short period of time. It simply felt...right, there in his hands. [Kinda funny how things work out,] he mused, closing his favorite novel, _The Time Machine_ by H.G. Wells. [Here I am, home...well, as close to home as I'm going to get, anyway. Wonder where I'm gonna head off to in a couple of minutes?] Rising from the recliner, he paced the room. Before, he'd left in the company of friends. Now, he was alone at this departure. He didn't like being alone. [Just one more leap...] he thought as the world turned blue, then white. Chapter 29-------------------------------------------------------------------- "A change of venue is imminent." --found in a fortune cookie. MARCH 9, 2360 OUTSIDE OF CHELTOPOLIS SALUSIA (367 years A.L.) "I thought I might find you here, little brother." Percy commented. "Yeah, well...I come here every year. Say hi to Keri, tell her what's been going on. 'Course, she doesn't say much, but hey..." "I've got a little proposition for ya..." A rustle in the bushes alerted the brothers to an intruder. A dark-furred, naturaform Cheltari Salusian emerged from his cover, looking quite arrogant. "Well, well, well...look who finally dragged himself over here. We have something to discuss, you and I." "We have nothing to discuss, Aric. This is hardly the place for you and I to talk about your idiotic intolerance for other forms of life." "This is the perfect place," Aric insisted, "You have been avoiding me for over a century. You know, I always wondered *why* she married you. Was it because you were a sorry excuse for a lower life form? That she felt sorry for you? Or, was it one of those whims that women are so prone to have? Perhaps it was part of a bet." he speculated. "Listen, furry boy," Percy began, his stance becoming aggressive. "Back off, Percy," Pearson waved him off. "He's right. This is something we have to get out in the open," He turned his attention (a small portion, mind you) to Aric. "You want to know why Keriyn married me? I'm not sure I can explain it, because I'm not sure that you'll understand the answer. She loved me. That's all there is...was...to it. Even here and now, a part of me always will. That is what you don't understand. "Have you taken a good look at yourself, lately? All alone in a large house, scarcely anyone to talk to, no one to put up with you. You're ignorant, fearful, angry, racist...like I said before, you're a pathetic excuse for a sentient being. I can't understand how a family like yours, a family with generations of builders, engineers, architects, doctors and authors, including your father, Renar Ajlond...could end up with you. You are a no-talent, closed-minded, stubborn, and in the end, pitiful, person. Your ideas belong in the past, the long-dead and buried past. I wish I could hate you...but you're more worthy of my sympathy." "Save your sympathy. At least *I'm* not hunted by an upstanding corporation like GENOM. Oh, yes, they know you're here," he leered. "They'll be sending out so many Bumas for your hide, you'll have to hide in a black hole. You'll be all alone...much worse off than I ever was." "You sonova--!" Percy exclaimed. "Ah, ah, ah...sticks and stones," he pulled out a disruptor, and checked his watch. "I estimate that they'll be here in five minutes. Do be a good monkey boy, and don't make me kill you. Lowers the bounty, you know. Pathetic Wedgie." he sneered. That was the last straw. Percy sprang into action, his nano-enhanced reflexes helped him move faster, much faster, than Aric was prepared for. With a spin kick, he knocked the disruptor out of Aric's hand. Barely half a second later, he grabbed his keychain stunner from out of his pocket and hit the Salusian with a red pellet, paralyzing him on the spot. "Don't kill him." "What, even now?" "Yes, even now. I'm still a doctor, and I *won't* kill if it's possible." Percy raised an eyebrow. "All right. I'm not gonna kill him," he leaned closer to the paralyzed Salusian. "Keep this in mind, asshole," he muttered. "From now on, every move you make, I'm gonna know about it. If you head off to GENOM again, if you go to the head, I'll know about it. I'm gonna put you under a microscope, and you're gonna wish you'd never been born. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days..." he snapped his fingers for emphasis, "You won't have to worry about the grocery bill anymore, because it's kinda tough to eat when your stomach has just been converted to free-floating molecules. What's worse, you won't even know when it's coming. Got me?" Aric tried to voice a reply, but his vocal cords were paralyzed as well. The look in his eyes, however, was evidence enough that Percy had been quite clear. Taking off, Percy started up a conversation on a secure channel. "Anyway, Pearson, about that offer?" "Yeah? What about it?" he asked from his DeLorean, flying as a sort of wingmate to his brother's Grand Prix. "Right now, I'm at the Tachyon Detective Agency. Yeah, I know, I know, corny name, but it's a good company. Anyway, my boss said I could open up a branch office of my own, and staff it with whoever I want. Hint. Hint." "I take it that you want me to be in on this," Pearson remarked dryly. "Funny, though...I always imagined you as a tech rather than a detective." "They call me a `consultant,' but we're actually the ones who do all the grunt work. The only reason I'm opening up my own branch is because I keep finding all these loopholes lying around." Pearson could see that his brother was grinning. "You always were the sneaky one of the bunch. Why me, though?" "You learned to be observant when you became a doctor, right?" "Right...so?" Pearson replied uneasily. "I need a second pair of eyes. Also, that second pair has to be someone I trust. Who better than my younger brother?" "Percy, it's not the same thing. I mean, it's like trying to compare Vegan choriomeningitis with a simple brain hemorrage. Both could be considered things that're wrong with a person's nervous system, but the differences between the two..." he shook his head. "Well...all you have to do is keep an eye on things that I might miss." "Hmmm...." "So, are you in? I could use your help." "Well...okay. Where're we going, anyway?" "Earth, where else? In fact, oddly enough," Percy's tone of voice indicated that what he was about to say wasn't a mere coincidence, "the office is built on where our old house used to be. Strange, huh?" "Gee, I wonder how you pulled that off?" Pearson asked with no small amount of sarcasm. "I know people." Percy Clint Eastwooded before grinning. "A loophole is a very useful thing, little brother." "Yeah, I'll bet." Chapter 30--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Is it not amazing the places in which old friends meet?" --Largo MAY 15, 2365 TACHYON DETECTIVE AGENCY EARTH BRANCH, ILLINOIS, UNITED STATES (372 years A.L.) "Hey, Maggie. How's it going?" Pearson greeted the secretary in his usual chipper voice. "Not bad. Your brother's inside already." He hmphed. "That figures. He was always the early riser of the bunch." Hanging his raincoat and fishing hat on the coatrack, he noted the navy blue trenchcoat and matching fedora that belonged to Percy. As a joke, the elder Mui had ordered a particularly subtle bit of embroidery on the coat's left shoulder, a Maltese cross designating the rank of Admiral of Starfleet. It was subtle in that one had to look for it at a rather odd angle to make out the design. Maggie Simpson was a highly capable secretary in more than clerical work. On more than one occasion she had to hold back several would-be assassins at bay with the disruptor in her desk. Being Tenctenese also helped somewhat. She was good at her job, and the two brothers were rather generous when things came up. "Hey, Pearson!" Percy greeted. "We've got a case!" "Well, will wonders never cease?" "Pinky!" Percy voiced in his Brain imitation as he whapped Pearson across the top of his head. "Sorry, Brain," Pearson replied in a fairly good Pinky voice. "I rather lost my head for a moment there." "Not that you ever needed it, Pinky." "That's a good one, Brain. Okay, what's the case?" he finished in his usual voice. "It's a simple one. We just get this guy here," Percy's computer displayed J. Random Scientist with a rather pronounced hawk nose, "and we get him to our employers. The guy's name is..." "Richard Lambert." Pearson said coldly, recognizing the picture. "I guess you know him." Percy remarked. "He's the guy who sent me flying through time." "Oh. Well, anyway, our client wants Lambert `retrieved,' kicking and screaming if necessary, but that's optional, and brought back here alive, with as little property damage as we can manage." "Hey, I'm not the one who called the Grand Prix on remote to lay waste to the 23rd floor of an office building." "It worked, didn't it? Besides, we couldn't get to our beam sabers, and they had our stunners. What was I supposed to do?" "Something less like what the Dirty Pair would do?" Pearson quipped. "Mass destruction! Mass destruction!" Percy ranted. "Whoops. Sorry. Mass can't be destroyed or created. It just changes form." Pearson groaned. "What do they want Lambert for anyway? And how the heck did he end up here in the 24th century?" "Y'think maybe he leaped himself here? You told me that he disappeared around 1993. 'Course, you thought that he'd committed suicide because of his experiment's failure." "A little wishful thinking on my part. After that first experiment blew up in his face, he was pretty much disgraced from the scientific community. Nobody would touch him or his theories." "Anyway, I don't think they want Lambert for that. Nope, this has something to do with dimensional harmonics. The secrets of the universe or something like that. I guess he's given up on time travel." "D'you know where he is now?" "Well, the last time I checked, he was headed to Neo-Texas. The trail disappears from there, though." "Hmm..." Pearson mumbled as he ruminated. "I'm gonna dial up one of my sources. Maybe she can help out." "`She?'" Percy asked dubiously. "Yup, `she.'" He dialed up a number from memory. Drrt. Drrt- "Stingray Institute of Technology." an operator answered. "Ah, yes, could you please put me through to Professor Nene Romanova please?" "One moment..." "Wait-wait-wait...Nene Romanova? Cute girl, yea big...?" Percy raised his hand to about neck level (he and Pearson were the same height), "Red hair, big green eyes? *That* Nene Romanova?" "Yup." At that moment, the connection opened back up, revealing an older Nene Romanova, her hair beginning to turn grey, but the energetic twinkle still remained in her green eyes. "Hello?" "Hey, kid. What's up?" he greeted her with a smirk. "Doc! I haven't heard from you since last October! How're you doing?" "Not bad. Um, I was wondering if you could do me a favor." "What do you need?" "Well, my brother and I have a little investigations thing going..." Percy waved hi in the background. "Anyway, I was just wondering if you could check up on this guy. Where he is would be nice, but don't go into too much detail. You feel up to it?" he asked after sending her the preliminary info. "Are you implying that I'm not up to this?" she asked with mock-indignation. "Well, if you're busy, I could always call up somebody else. I mean, you've got classes to teach, people to see, things to do..." "I'll get back to you in five minutes." Bip. "She's gonna find Lambert for us?" Percy asked dubiously. "Percy, not only is she going to find Lambert, she will probably also open up loopholes so large, we could fit the old Wayward Son in them. And, she'll do it in thirty seconds." "Thirty seconds?" "She's got cyberjacks. I don't hold that against her, though. Just because I get the willies from them doesn't mean that they don't work for other people." "She said she'd be back in five minutes." "I guess the other four and a half minutes are for a coffee break or something." Exactly four minutes and fifty-nine seconds later, Maggie patched in a call from New Japan. "Here you go," Nene said while she sent the info. "I would've had this in sooner, but I needed some coffee." She smirked. "Tough security?" Pearson inquired. "Ha! Not for this little hacker!" she stated defiantly. "Hey, wait a minute. How'd you get our phone number?" Percy wondered. As an answer, she merely smiled. "So, Nene, exactly how badly did you trash their system?" "Remember when I got reeeeaaaally drunk?" "Which time was that?" Pearson deadpanned. She pouted, then brightened up. "The time you poured snow down my back. I still haven't gotten back at you for that." Pearson ignored the pseudo-threat. "Is it on par with the 3WA level of quality?" "Hmm...maybe." Both brothers turned to face each other and stereo'd "Definitely." Clearing his throat, Pearson continued, "Well, thanks a lot, kid. I owe you *another* one." Bip. MAY 18, 2365 NEO-TEXAS CITY OF AUSTIN (372 years A.L.) Percy knew that he was in a particularly bad situation as the hulking form of the security guard drew a shadow over him. A big shadow. A shadow that would have made an elephant look puny. Whipping out the keychain stunner from its concealed place, he began to take aim... ...and almost immediately, the guard knocked it out of his hand. The small device clattered noisily on the ground. Nursing his injured hand, he considered his options. Run? Nope, this was a dead-end alley. Stun the guy? Been there, done that. Tenderize him with rapid punches? Yeah, right, on a guy that has to weigh at least 400 pounds? Not likely. Slice and dice? Nope, he wanted to immobilize the guy, not kill him. That left him with only one option. Extending his hand and aiming it towards the guard, an ion gun (Fahrvergnugen Industries, Mk II) jumped from its concealed place in his sleeve, formerly nestled within a quick-release holster. Pulling the trigger, he was rewarded with a particularly resonant ZRATCH! as the gun launched forth a blue-white bolt of energy directly at the guard's head. "YARGH!" the guard screamed, being the recipient of an instantly excruciating headache. He clutched his head in obvious cerebral agony. Percy scrambled to where the stunner lay and scooped it up. Sliding the small panel back, he fired a green pellet followed by a red one in what his brother called a "double whammy." The guard collapsed like a fallen oak, unconscious and paralyzed. Letting out a slow breath, he wiped his brow but kept the stunner ready, the ion gun having already retreated into his sleeve. [All this for a simple grab.] Percy mused. [This'll be extra on my bill.] "Goddathunda, this is Choir Boy," Pearson's voice filtered in from the comlink in his collar. "How's it going on your end? Over." "Choir Boy, this is Goddathunda. I'm circling around back. I had to take care of a guard, but I don't think he sounded off any alarms." "I've had a few problems of my own. Looks like they've got a few force-field gen...HEL-lo." "What?" "Fields are off. Dunno if everything else is off, though." Pearson hesitated for a moment as he considered his options. "I'm going for it." "What's the word, Choir Boy?" "Electronically, this place is dead as can be." "Your friend's work?" "I guess so. I didn't know that she could be this thorough." A tense moment passed as Pearson made his own entrance. The door, being only three inches of steel (Very good steel, actually. It'd taken him a bit longer than usual to cut through it), found itself clanging noisily onto the floor. The security systems didn't even go off. "Choir Boy to Goddathunda. I'm in." "I'm on my way." The building was dark, which was perfectly normal if someone had directed a localized power surge that fried your transformer. Making their way inside, the two brothers could barely discern a man's deep voice coming from within. They cautiously crept towards the source, keeping their stunners at the ready. "Damn! Damn, damn, DAMN!!" the voice exclaimed. Pearson furrowed an eyebrow as he recognized it. Lambert. They approached the scientist, and he turned to face them. Time (and time travel) had not been particularly kind to the good professor. Concealed within his ever-present white labcoat was an almost painfully thin frame. His hawk-nose was present as well, and the dark circles under his eyes indicated a distinct lack of sleep. The eyes themselves were sharpened, as if their owner was perpetually impatient with the circumstances that he had dealt with. His thinning brown hair had all but disappeared, leaving nothing but a fringe of grey-brown near his temples and the back of his head. "Who--?" "Professor Richard T. Lambert?" Percy inquired, removing the navy-blue fedora. "I am he. What do you want?" "Tachyon Detective Agency. We're here to escort you back to Earth for our employer." "Well, could this wait a little?" Lambert asked impatiently. "I've *almost* breached the dimensional barrier. I just need another generator and a few more minutes..." "We don't have time." Pearson said somewhat curtly. "Odd that you should mention that," Lambert said warily. "Another project that was under my direction could have given me all that I could have desired." He sighed heavily. "I *know*." Lambert raised an eyebrow. "Step closer, young man." Something about this raincoated stranger was damnably familiar. Pearson doffed the fishing hat and did as the aging scientist requested. Lambert's eyes went wide with shock as he beheld a prodigal son of sorts, if things had turned out differently. As things were, however, the dark-brown orbs behind the lenses of his glasses burned disgust and contempt. "You..." It was barely a whisper. "I've only one question, Lambert: WHY?" "Wh-why what? Why did I send you? You volunteered, remember?" "No...that's not what I'm asking." Pearson shot out a hand and grabbed the scientist by the shirtfront. Percy intervened by placing a hand on his brother's wrist. "Settle down. We're here to retrieve him, not maul the guy." Reluctantly, Pearson released his grip, but the fire in his eyes remained. "Why did you send others into the future? You sent mercenaries...cutthroats who would kill their own mothers! You shipped them off, and it was only through a series of freak accidents that they never returned! WHY?!" "Th-the mercenaries weren't my idea. I *strongly* suggested more testing with the leaping process, but..." "But Chrono-tech Industries *insisted*, didn't they?" "It was either that, or they would cut off my funding..." "Funding? You *bribed* your way into UIC! That experiment wasn't ethical in *any* way! `The psychological effects of temporal phenomenon,' my ass!" he muttered, recalling the experiment name. "Ethics are for the timid. There is no price too high to pay for the advancement of knowledge and the scientific method." he said stiffly. "Advancement of knowledge?! More like the advancement of Richard T. Lambert, Crackpot at Large!" "I don't have to take this. Please show yourselves out, and have a good day, gentlemen." "Uh, Professor Lambert?" Percy interjected. "I think we have a little problem here. Y'see, I've got a *beautiful* wife at home, and I really want to get back to Earth ASAP. The thing is, I can't go back without something looming over my head unless you come along with us. Of course, there's also the matter of me getting paid, but that's another story," he muttered the last part. "Anyway, you wouldn't want to keep me from the missus, now would you?" "I wouldn't know what that's like. I never married." Lambert stated. Pearson looked skyward. "Is it any wonder?" "I have yet to find a woman who could appreciate my talents." "Translation, no woman could put up with your single-mindedness." "This is not about me. Leave me. Now." Percy sighed and shrugged. "Okay. C'mon, Pearson, let's go." "What?!" Pearson asked, wide-eyed. "We're just gonna LEAVE him here?!" "Yeah. He doesn't wanna come along, and I'm not gonna force the issue. Did you remember where we parked?" The older sibling asked as he turned away from the aged scientist. Pearson seemed to not react when he heard his brother say the last phrase. It was a code phrase between them which meant, "get the stunners ready." "Just outside, I think." he replied, confirming what his brother said. A few steps into their false retreat, Percy whipped out his stunner and fired a green pellet at Lambert. The pellet disintegrated a foot before it reached the scientist. Percy mouthed out "nuts." "Oh, and if you should choose to take me by force, I have constructed an ultrasonic shield which vibrates your pellets into oblivion before it can reach me. Of course, you wouldn't *dare* shoot me with one of those, now would you?" The two brothers eyed the scientist, then each other. "He's prepared." Percy conceded. "Very much so." Pearson agreed. "Doesn't leave us much choice now, does it?" "Nope, not really." Sigh. "On three?" "Uh huh." "Three." The two brothers rushed Lambert. Pearson held the scientist immobile while Percy attached the handcuffs. "Wha...how *dare* you--?" Lambert sputtered as he was forcibly dragged across the floor like a trout. "What is the *meaning* of this?" "Well, you didn't leave us much choice." "So, sit back, relax, and shaddup. Unless, of course, you want me to render you unconscious the old-fashioned way." Pearson cracked his knuckles to underscore his point. Lambert gulped as he lapsed into silence, his blase facade and bluster fading. He had never felt such hatred coming from any individual. The worst part of it was, it was justifiably directed at him. Perhaps it was time to face some of his old ghosts. The two brothers and their unwilling passenger made their way to two vehicles, amazingly unnoticed by any bystanders. One was a red Pontiac Grand Prix, the other a silvery-grey DeLorean. Percy opened up his car and aided Lambert into the backseat. Pearson walked to his own car and got in. The younger brother opened up a comm channel. "I tell ya, Percy, the sooner we get this ass off our hands, the better I'll feel." "Y'know, I've never seen you *hate* somebody this much. Usually, your temper's like SHOOM! for a second," he made a hand motion which was a fair representation of a spike, "and then, five minutes later, you've forgotten why you were angry." "I don't mean to sound presumptuous, bro, but you don't *know* what it's like." "Uh huh. Well, feel free to let me know. In the meantime, we've got our pay to collect." Both vehicles blasted off, headed for Earth. "Excellent," their employer proclaimed. "Good job, you two. Some people will be there in the morning to pick him up." "May I ask something, sir?" Pearson queried. "What is it?" "Where exactly is Professor Lambert headed off to?" "I'm afraid that I can't disclose that information at this time. You will be happy to know, however, that he'll be in a safe place. Is that all?" "Yes, sir." Bip. "Something wrong?" Percy asked. "I'm not sure...but somehow, I get the feeling that this isn't the last we'll be seeing of Richard T. Lambert." Chapter 31--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Guess who's coming to dinner?" --Pavel Andreivich Chekov OCTOBER 20, 2370 (377 years A.L.) The one thing that one could count on when running a branch of a detective agency was that there would be times where work would be a bit lean. It was a well-known, if not entirely welcome fact of any business. Now was not one of the lean times. Pearson and Percy had been working 14 hour days for the last two months. While that meant that their bank accounts would be better off from the boom, it also meant that they had precious little time for relaxation. Maggie had helped a great deal, but she was pushing herself to the point where the two brothers nearly *ordered* her to get some sleep. Percy groaned at the number of cases piled up on his desk. [Elana's not gonna like me coming home late again.] Peering over to his brother's desk, he noted the cans of Pepsi that had piled up in the recycling bin. He suspected that Pearson would most likely be more comfortable in a hospital making rounds, but there was really no one else he could trust to be his partner in the field. The phone rang, and he answered it, barely suppressing the urge to yawn. "Hello, Tachyon Detective Agency." "Hi, hon. How's it going over there?" It was his wife. In spite of the fact that they had been married for over a century, he never got tired of seeing her face. She was very pretty, her long, dark brown hair ended at the middle of her back, framing a face with brown eyes, a pert nose, and a faint band of freckles across her cheeks. She was cute in a way that made Pearson turn into a babbling wreck for a few seconds, and that was something that Percy never failed to remind him of. He smiled in spite of himself. "Like hell, as usual. We're still swamped back here." Her face fell somewhat. "Oh. Coming home late, again?" Percy shifted his gaze from his wife, to the pile of work on his desk, then back. He exhaled a long breath through his nostrils. "Percy? Is something wrong?" He hadn't responded for a while. "Nah, nothing's wrong." he shook his head. [Screw it. I've been concentrating more on my work than her. It's just not worth the aggravation.] "Elana, I'm coming home now. And, um..." he eyed his younger brother on the verge of taking a beam saber to the data pads. "...can you handle a guest for dinner?" "Is it your brother?" "Mm-hm." "No problem." she smiled. "Love you." she added quietly. "I love you, too. I'll see you in a few." Bip. Pearson gently thudded his head against his desk. [I. Hate. Paperwork.] he thought silently. "Hey, little brother! We're knocking off." Pearson lifted his head to a level just above the mess on his desk. "Gaaahh?" Coherent speech had been lost out of frustration with the indecipherable forms about a half hour ago. "Oh, don't give me that `gaaahh.' C'mon over to my place. Elana's expecting you." "Ah bweh?" "What is it, you've turned into a Tasmanian devil?" "Nooo...I just want to strangle whoever came up with these forms. No, cancel that. I want to hunt him down. I want to make his life a living hell and knock him off when he thinks it's getting better. When he's on his dying gasp, I'm going to make him fill out a permission form in order for him to die." "Ew. Just don't let Elana hear that at the table. She has enough trouble teaching whiz-kids at Starfleet Academy the basics of propulsion theory. This one student always gives her a lot of aggravation." "Who? Montgomery Scott?" Percy frowned as he donned his coat and fedora. "Ah, no. I think his name's...MacGregor, or something like that. Always questions everything. He's got a good head on his shoulders, though. Understands almost everything she teaches him." "One of those cases, huh?" Pearson asked as he shut off the lights. "Elana! Hi! It's been, what, a couple of months?" "H'lo, Pearson. Hmm...about four months, I think. How're things going?" "Other than some mild brain damage from trying to decipher some paperwork...okay, actually." he joked. "I'm worried about him," Percy admitted after Pearson had headed to his apartment. "Hmm?" Elana was currently leaning on his shoulder, the two of them on a comfortable couch. "Worried about who?" "Pearson. He's...well, it's not just the frustration of paperwork that's bothering him. Maybe it's...naaahh." he shook his head as he dismissed the thought. "Maybe he didn't get over Keriyn's death after all? Is that what you were thinking?" "Are you sure you're not part Betazoid?" "Pretty sure. You know...people react differently to loss." "Well, maybe. I mean, it *seems* like he's over it and all, but..." "But?" she prompted. "I get the feeling that if it weren't for the fact that he has kids, us, and his friends, he might've knocked himself off a long time ago. Right now, he's not living. He's holding on, but he's not really living. It's almost as if...he was waiting for something to occur." "Waiting? For what?" "I don't know. Maybe he's waiting for some event in the future to occur. What he does after that, I have no idea. I'll tell you one thing, though." "What?" "I wouldn't want to be in his shoes for anything. I wouldn't really want to know the future, then see it happen right before my eyes." "We have enough on our hands with the present." Percy sighed, then curled an arm around his wife. It had been, what, almost 140 years ago that he had lifted his eyes from a navigational array to see her in her dress uniform, utterly lost. He didn't think much of giving her directions, but before he knew it, he couldn't stop thinking about her. They started talking about the various engine components that they knew about, and somehow, the conversation progressed to more abstract areas. Not too long afterwards (at least in an immortal's lifespan), they were married. Though the road was often rough, in general life was good to them. Percy started wondering when life would resume being good to Pearson. Chapter 32--------------------------------------------------------------------- "Even if your intentions are good, they can backfire drastically." --Emmet Latharpe Brown NOVEMBER 23, 2374 (382 years A.L.) EARTH PLANET-STATE OF OLYMPUS THE REGION FORMERLY KNOWN AS NEW YORK CITY "*When* is he coming?" the leader rumbled in the dim light of the warehouse. "Any minute now, boss..." the subordinate mumbled nervously. His superior was not one that you could disappoint and live to tell about it. "He had better. I dislike those who cannot be counted on to be punctual...and I dislike those who associate with these people even more." The short, weasel-eyed man gulped. His superior did not make idle threats. When the threat came from a very tall and built Kilrathi by the name of Pa'kath Karod'kh, one tended to take them rather seriously. Such was the case of his employer. Thankfully, the door opened, and three men entered. Two of them were hefting an apparently heavy crate, lead by the third. The crate was carefully lowered, and the apparent leader opened it to reveal a rather impressive cache of weapons. "Here y'are, cat. Exo-Salusia's finest. Untouchable, untraceable, and it's all yours. D'ya have the money?" "Pay the man, Nigel." the Kilrathi said, tapping his subordinate with one of his claws. Nigel hurried to comply, and offered them a case. Behind several crates, Percy cocked an eyebrow at his brother. It was time to make their move. Grinning, Pearson hit the switch on their little surprise. An eerie, soul-piercing laugh echoed through the warehouse. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?" the voice intoned. "The Shadow knows!" Murmurs of "what the hell" circulated among the smugglers as the figure in black reared his head back and let loose the Laugh that chilled them to the very depths of their soul. Two of the thugs managed to gain their nerve, and unholstered their weapons, bringing them to bear on The Shadow. Particle beams sizzled past the man, who seemed totally unfazed at their efforts. He continued that maddening laugh. Pa'kath Karod'kh knew that something was terribly wrong. For one thing, he couldn't smell the intruder, and that lead to him to question whether or not the black-clad man existed. "Hold your fire, you mindless apes!" he roared. "It's a hologram!" The hologram changed shape, its attire becoming that of a twentieth century game show host. "And he gets it on the first try! Guys, tell our contestants what they've won!" A hail of red paralysis pellets took out three of them, leaving Nigel and Pa'kath. "Well, you guys have won an all-expense paid trip to your local prison, including food, transportation, housing, and a cellmate named Big Bruno. You guys are BUS-ted, so don't make any trouble, 'kay?" Pearson finished with a shit-eating grin on his face and the keychain stunner in his hand. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're enjoying yourself, bro." Percy commented. "I try." A click from a switch was the only clue that Pearson had to dodge Nigel's charge, as he had produced a vibroblade from his pocket. He ducked, then backflipped out of harm's way. Or, so he thought. It was barely a tenth of a second after he landed that something fast and furry nearly knocked his head off. Dazed, he landed hard against several crates, the stunner flying out of his hand. Percy had his own problems, dodging swipes from the weasel. Deciding that he had had enough exercise for the day, he caught the next knife thrust and delivered a blow to the shoulder that neatly knocked the arm out of joint. Nigel staggered back as Percy produced his own stunner. One red pellet later, and Nigel was out of commission. Turning, he saw Pearson take a nasty backhand from the cat, knocking him into several crates. The cat grabbed him by the front of his raincoat and hoisted him upwards. "I will brook no more of your interference, ape!" Karod'kh snarled, and prepared to dive his claws into Pearson's abdomen, which would result in a very messy disembowelment. "Wa-jah!" Percy exclaimed, as he ran and delivered a spin kick to the Kirathi's head that would have snapped an ordinary man's neck. Stunned, the felinoid dropped his prey. With a _snap-hiss_, the blue-white blade of his beam saber emerged from the handle. For Pearson, the world seemed to have become a lot less stable than he last remembered. Stumbling back, he found support on a crate. The next thing he heard was a tremendous, primal roar of pain. Something heavy thudded on the floor next to him, but all he could make out in his dazed state was that the object was furry, and had been neatly severed by a particle beam, judging by the stench of cauterized flesh. A red flash of light, and a large, immobile Kilrathi collapsed to the floor, still clutching at his right forearm which now ended with a stump. Grimacing, Pearson propped himself to a semi-standing position. A _shhpt_ sound later, and the beam saber that Percy wielded had retreated into the handle, which was promptly hooked onto his belt. "You all right, bro?" "Oh, yeah, great. That guy doesn't need to work on his backhand at all." Pearson replied while fighting off the last vestiges of vertigo. "And now, let's give our contestants a big hand!" Pearson glared at his brother, who seemed totally unfazed. "Y'think ESWAT can handle it from here?" "I think so. But, we'd better stick around. They're not going anywhere, but we're not getting our commission unless they're arrested," Percy peered down at the fallen Kilrathi. "Besides, I don't think that cat's gonna bother us anymore." If Pa'kath Karod'kh had control of his vocal cords, he would have voiced his displeasure at having had one of his limbs cut off. He did, however, have control of his mental faculties. [Think again, ape. I shall make you pay for this...atrocity!] Chapter 33--------------------------------------------------------------------- "There are three stages of knowledge: The stage where you want to know everything, the stage where you think you know everything, and then there's the point where you realize that you don't know anything." --Anonymous MARCH 9, 2380 (387 years A.L.) OUTSIDE OF CHELTOPOLIS SALUSIA Pearson cautiously eyed his surroundings. He hadn't been back in a while, for good reason. Aric had raised a big stink back then, and he'd hoped that things had cooled down a bit by now. Placing the red rose on top of the grave, he stood there timidly, the fingers of his hands interlaced as his hands rested on his belt. He sighed as he prepared himself for the one-sided conversation. "Hi, it's me again. Sorry I haven't been around lately; Aric kinda mucked things up for me awhile back. Yeah, I know...excuses, excuses. Sigh. "Anyway...a lot's happened in the last 15 years. Percy and I started our own branch of a detective agency only to have it `appropriated' by GENOM 5 years back. We didn't leave anything for them, though. I like to think that we did a lot of good. 'Course, we also caused a bit of destruction, but not nearly as bad as Kei and Yuri would do. But, anyway, I guess the point is, it's gone. Percy didn't take that very well. "The kids are doing okay. Megan's just had some of her papers on propulsion theory published. In fact, she's gonna be on a design team at Utopia Planitia. Somehow," he remarked with a slight smile, "I knew that she had a little of you in her. Mandy's doing great. She and some of her friends are touring Earth right now. I had no idea what I was in for when I showed her one of my old violins. Aaron is an instructor at Starfleet Medical when he's not working shifts at San Francisco general. I think we've put some workaholic genes in him, because even *I* winced when I saw his schedule. But, he's happy, and I guess that's what counts. Pete? You're not gonna believe this, but he's become a reporter/author. I've got a couple of copies of his first novel...it's about the Good Old Days. It was slow when it started selling, but after the recent events, it's become a best-seller. Go figure, huh? "I guess that's what I *really* wanted to tell you. Just a few days ago, everyone found out what I've known for a long time, that business with the replicant of Gryphon. The WDF is coming back. It's coming back, love, and I'm going along for the ride. This time, we're gonna kick Largo's ass. Shrug. "I guess that's really what I wanted to say. I just wish you were here to see all that's going on. I'll see you around. Love you." Without even turning his head, Pearson called into the nearby bushes, "Come on out, Aric. Your turn." The dark-furred Salusian complied. In contrast to the last time he'd been seen, Aric had become considerably thinner, more gaunt, and his eyes held quite a bit less arrogance in them. His gait was tired, almost humble. "How did you know?" Aric asked. "I know people. I know things." Shrug. "I'm funny that way." He gestured to the grave. "Well, go ahead. Put the flower on the grave and talk to her. I'm finished." Aric eyed him curiously. "You're being very kind to someone who's done nothing but hate you." "If you wanted to turn me in, you'd have done it immediately, and at disrupter-point. You didn't do either, so I guess you're here for the same reason as I am. Go ahead, talk to her. It'll make you feel better. If you need me, I'll be over there." The Salusian looked unusually solemn as he placed a native flower on top of the grave. Doc2 didn't listen to the conversation. He may not have liked the man, but he still respected his privacy. When Aric was finished, he made his way to the bushes where Pearson was. "I heard about your aerospace company." he said by way of opening up a conversation. "Strange, isn't it?" Aric commented, seemingly to himself. "While I was rooted to this place, the rest of my family reached for the stars. While I despised the change that contact with other cultures brought, my sister benefitted greatly from her contact with you. While I admired GENOM for the way they took charge of things, I had yet to realize what else they were capable of. All this, too little, too late for the family legacy. I have nothing." If Pearson was amazed at the humility that Aric was displaying, he tried not to let it show. This was a marked change from the swaggering ass of less than two decades ago. "You must hate me." Aric stated simply. "Hate is...a rather strong word." Pearson said at length. This was hardly the time for his usual levity. "Disliked, certainly, especially...no, make that *mostly* because of your attitudes towards outworlders." This was not voiced as an accusation; it was stated as a fact. "Tell me something, Aric. How is it that the son of a renowned engineer, who is part of an open-minded culture, closed himself off to embracing other cultures?" Aric shrugged. "I suppose that I cling to the familiar. I despised change. I simply wished to have everything as they were. A child-like fancy, if you will." "So you equated contact with other races as harmful?" Pearson queried. "Yes." Pearson ever so slightly raised an eyebrow. "I can see where you're coming from. I don't condone it, but I do see where you're coming from." "Have you never wondered why I did not come to your wedding?" "I've given it some thought." "Oddly enough, it was for her sake. I didn't wish to spoil the celebration." "You would have been given the opportunity to voice your objection to me." "That's the point. Believe it or not, she was still my sister, and I wanted her to be happy. Outworlder or not, I could tell that she was truly in love with you. A testament to her odd taste, perhaps." There was the hint of a smile in his face. Pearson cocked an eyebrow as he eyed the Salusian. "I can see that your sense of humor has improved." "Ten years of therapy at an institution will do that to you." "Hmm...well, I'd better go." "Where to?" "Back to where I belong. Back to the Wedge Defense Force." MARCH 12, 2380 (387 years A.L.) Outside of the Utopia Planitia shipyards, three distinctive subspace distortions appeared, and out of the third distortion streaked a silvery-grey car with gull-wing doors. "Unidentified craft, this is UP control. Please identify yourself." "UP control, this is DeLorean One. Request permission to dock." "Standby, DeLorean One." Inside the old craft, Doc2 looked at the news article currently on his screen and smiled. BUTCHER APPREHENDED! Benjamin Hutchins, Wedge Defense Force Cleared! It had taken him several days to take care of his personal affairs, and then he was off to rejoin the WDF (although, technically, he had never quit in the first place.). Life was beginning to pick up again. And if they could deal with Largo and GENOM, so much the better. The controller shook him out of his reverie. "DeLorean One, this is UP control. You are cleared for landing in docking bay 9. Welcome back, Lt. Mui." He winced a little at the mention of his old rank. "Roger that. And control? Call me Doc." JUNE 25, 2385 ZETA CYGNI DYSON SPHERE 14:00 HOURS (392 years A.L.) Striding absently in the halls of UP, Doc2 was so absorbed in the computer pad that he almost ran into Gryphon. "Whoops! Sorry about that..." he did a double take. "Gryphon?" "Doc! You're still around?" he joked. "Ayeahp yeap, yeap. Three leaps and some dimension-hopping later, and I'm still here." "Dimension-hopping? Where'd you end up?" Doc2 grimaced at the memories. "You don't want to know. Listen, can I talk to you about something?" "Well, I dunno. I've got a meeting in a few minutes." "It's important." Gryphon thought it over. "My office is over there," he gestured, and he entered, Doc2 close behind. "All right, what's this all about?" "Hi, Chief." a very familiar voice said. "Reika?" Doc2 looked around, confused. [What was she doing here?] "No, VISION. She...well, it's sort of complicated, but I engineered her." Ben said with a hint of pride. "More like sprung out of his head." Vision corrected. "Details, details, hurry up and find Dr. Nogood." Doc2 pseudo-groused. "Huh? Oh! Been a while since I heard *that*." Ben mentally chided himself for missing that quote. "Geez..." Doc2 muttered as he examined Vision. "If I knew that you were around, I mmmmight even consider cyberjacks. Nope, nope, nope," he quickly amended, "I've never been one for sticking cyberware into myself. Nanotech, maybe, but actual cyberware...IIIII don't think so." A cursory glance of a nearby shelf revealed an eclectic collection of souvenirs, including (but not limited to) several Transformer toys, various scale models of ships on or off the drawing board, and a model of the Wayward Son. There were also a variety of books, mostly dealing with engineering and propulsion theories, but there was one that stood out, mainly because it didn't deal with either of the former. "HEL-lo, what's this?" he murmured. The spine of the book read, _Musashi: A Tragic Conspiracy_, by Peter David Ajlond-Mui. It was a rather hefty book, even for a hardcover edition. He noted idly that it was the second edition, having been printed about a year after Gryphon's triumphant return. Sales for the first edition weren't very brisk, and some systems where GENOM was firmly in charge had subtly diverted the shipments of it. Banning it outright would simply not do for an upstanding company. "You bought this?" he asked Gryphon, after he abruptly realized that the latter was undoubtedly waiting for some semblance of a conversation. "I got it a couple of years back. Pete hit some ideas right on the head, y'know." "Y'know what the critics said about this when it came out?" "Not really." Pearson cleared his throat as he began a spiel in a Snooty Critic (tm) voice. "`A heavy-handed review of material that few people outside of history buffs would find even remotely interesting. The theories are overly technical and complicated, resulting in what comes off as little more than the unfounded rantings of an opportunistic author. I find it hard to believe that a fine company like GENOM would involve itself in such plots. As it stands, this book has only one use: As a paperweight.'" "Ouch." "That was back in '78. This is what the same critic said in '82. `This is a fine example of non-fiction at its best. The theories are in-depth and thorough, and the material is suprisingly up-to-date. The author, the son of a WDF officer, has injected personal insight without personal bias. This book will make a fine addition to any library.'" "Amazing what a difference a few years makes." Ben quipped. "You know what the kicker is? The books are almost *exactly* the same, other than a three-page addendum, a revised epilogue, and a different cover. Ah, the fickleness of the critics, hm?" "You want it?" he asked, indicating the book. Pearson arched an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? This is my son's novel, so of *course* I have a couple of copies. Ten copies of each edition, actually." "Hmm...so, was there something other than kibbitzing you wanted?" Gryphon asked. "Oh, well," Doc2 said, "It's about this promotion to lieutenant commander. What's the deal with this?" "Well, the ship assignment's right there," Gryphon said, indicating the data pad. "You're to report to the Invulnerable tomorrow." "No, no, no...I mean, why the promotion to CMO?" "You really want to stay a lieutenant forever? Besides, I think you deserve it." "Aahhhhhh...." That part was true. All the time he'd been on the Wayward Son, he'd never accepted a promotion above that of Lieutenant. It was his way of making sure that he stayed on the SDF-17, and not be transferred to another ship. Also, truth be told, he was somewhat afraid of "replacing" Jenna, since she held the rank of lieutant commander. Too many cooks, or something like that. NEW AVALON 18:00 HOURS 108 MORGAN LANE The silvery-grey car flew easily above the roads of New Avalon, past the bustling city into the relatively quiet areas of the suburbs. It soft-landed on a driveway next to the city's creator, the tires rotating to where they belonged. Satisfied that he had landed in a slightly eccentric, but not overly obvious manner, Doc2 exited the vehicle clad in his old green jacket combo and carried a small box. Striding towards the door, he jerked down the front of his jacket and prepared to ring the doorbell. "Haaaalll-e-lujah!" He jerked his head back, eyebrow cocked. [This is something new.] The door opened to reveal a moderately short (about 5'5) woman with long red hair and blue eyes. "Yes? Can I--?" Her eyes widened as she realized who it was. Instantly assuming his Travelling Salesman (tm) voice, he began, "Pardon me, ma'am. I was simply wondering if you might wish to sample gags, jokes, and whatnot from Acme, for over 440 years, the leader in creative mayhem." "Doc! Come in, come in! Mitra, I haven't seen you since...well, since the wedding!" she semi-babbled as he was practically herded in. "Yeah, well, I've been keeping busy. They say that paperwork's dead, though I personally think that it never died. It just piles up when you're not looking. Believe it or not, I'm STILL trying to work out the medical records of the Colonial refugees. Well, actually, no, I'm not, but it sure feels like it. But, enough shop talk. You look just as lovely as ever, BTW. How DO you do it? Exercise? A good diet? An incredibly fast metabolism which few people are blessed with and I happen to be one of them so people who are dieting hate my guts?" he babbled. "Flattery will get you nowhere. But keep trying." she smiled. "Anyway, is Marty around?" "Lemme check," she called up the stairway, "Diggy!" "Yeeessss, Eiko?" a maniacal voice called from above, punctuated with equally maniacal laughter. "Hey, hey, hey!" Doc2 mock-protested. "That's MY Hunchback Imitation (tm)! You, sir, are this close to copyright infringement!" The seven-foot giant that was Martin Rose descended the stairs, clad in his purple Gizmonics jumpsuit. A lone Autobot/WDF logo was on his shoulder. "Doc! How's it going?" "Great Scott, Marty!" he Emmet Browned. "Mediocre Fred, Doc!" Martin smirked as he held out his hand. Doc2 put the box he was carrying down and shook Martin's hand vigorously. "What've you been up to?" He asked as he gestured to a sofa. Doc2 sat down. "About 5'10. Sorry, but I just didn't have any more growth spurts in the last couple of centuries." BAP! "Thanks, I needed that. I see you've kept a couple of Dani's Nerf bricks around." "We've got a couple of crates in back; a little housewarming gift on her part. So, what brings you here?" "A Ryouga-like sense of direction? No, no, no," he backed off as Martin *and* Eiko prepared their Nerf bricks. "Actually, I wanted to see how you guys were doing before I shipped off." "Shipped off?" Eiko inquired. "You've been reassigned?" "Dingdingdingding! You get a cookie!" Doc2 said enthusiastically. Reaching into his box, he grabbed a largish chocolate chip cookie and handed it to her. "You guys are looking at the new Chief Medical Officer of the WDF Invulnerable, NCC 2001." "That means you've been..." Eiko began. "Promoted! I'm a lieutenant commander now!" Doc2 was practically brimming with excitement. "Took you this long, hm?" Martin quipped. "Some things take...time, grasshopper," he Kwai Chang Caine'd. "Others take...parsley, sage, and...rosemary." BAPBAP! "Oyy...stereo." Doc2 fully opened the box to reveal several chocolate chip cookies and a fairly large key lime pie with extra whipped cream. Martin raised an eyebrow. "Doc, you're not going to start *that* up again, are you?" "Moi? Marty, please," he replied, sounding somewhat shocked that Martin had even brought that up. "You know I can't hold a grudge *this* long." "Papa?" Doc2 turned to the source of the voice, a pretty woman with short, auburn hair as she descended the stairs. She looked to be in her early 20's, although she acted much younger, as if she weren't older than seven. [Noriko.] "Who's this?" she asked. "This is an old friend of mine, Little Angel. This is Doc Mui." "Hi, Mr. Mui." she waved, smiling. Pearson winced. "Hi, Noriko. Just call me `Doc,' okay? It's easier." "Okay...Doc." Almost immediately, Pearson went into showoff-for-the-kid(s) mode. "Hey, you want to see some magic?" Her face brightened as she smiled. "Sure!" "Aaalll-righty," With a flamboyant wave of his hands, he produced a deck of cards from seemingly nowhere. He fanned out the deck. "Pick a card. Any card. Don't let me see it, and show it to your Mama and Papa." Noriko picked out a two of hearts and did as he told her. Putting it back, he shuffled the deck so fast that his hands blurred. Fanning the deck yet again, the two of hearts was face up. "Is this your card?" "Yeah! How did you do that?" "MMmmmm...remind me to show you when you're older. Do we have enough time for one last trick?" Doc2 directed a glance at Eiko for her approval. She nodded. "Okay, here're my hands. Nothing in them, right?" "Uh huh." "Now, watch this..." he clapped his hands together and rubbed them for a few seconds. When his hands parted, there was a white fishing hat much like his own between them. With a flourish, he planted it on her head. "Here you go, one genuine Doc Mui fishing hat." "Wow! Thanks, Doc!" She took off the hat and admired her new treasure. "Noriko, do you want to help me in the kitchen?" Eiko asked. "Sure, Mama!" She bounded off. "Pearson Mui," Martin began in a Rod Serling voice, "a man blessed with the singular talent of producing fishing hats out of thin air," he resumed his normal voice, "How *do* you do that, anyway? You started that trick a few years back, and I *still* haven't figured it out." "The hand...is quicker than...the eye. Especially if it's my hand." he smirked. "Anyway, you wanna take a look at old D One? She's sitting on the driveway. No, I didn't block your cars. At least, I don't think so. I was thinking about talking a few things over with you there, also." he added quietly, trying to give Martin an excuse to get out of the house. After telling Eiko where he'd be, and hanging a giggling Noriko from her ankles (Eiko and Martin had insisted that she not wear shirts with loose middles), the two men exited the front door to where the old, no, *ancient*, time machine rested. They were an odd pair, both thin, Martin over a foot taller than Pearson. If one could describe their friendship over the years, it would most likely resemble an Abbot and Costello skit, with Pearson's Costello usually enjoying a good-natured ribbing from Martin's quick-witted Abbot. However, he was a Costello who gave *almost* as good as he got. "You've gotta admit," Pearson began, opening up the gull-wing door, "she's held up pretty well over the years. Even through all the changes that've been thrown our way." "Y'ever think about putting an AI in there?" "Nahh...well, occasionally," he admitted. "The onboard's capable and all, but it's not much of a talker. Speaking of talking, 's nice to see that Noriko's up and about and everything." The last part was an `I'm sorry about what happened' concealed in idle chatter. "Yeah," Marty agreed. "She's getting there. You know, you're taking this awfully well. A lot better than Ben did, anyway." "Well, don't let me fool you. Inside, I'm screaming." "You sure didn't look it a couple of minutes ago." "Yeah...I heard about that mess back in '79. I've read the medical reports by Amman and Korren. That helped a little, but Jee-zus quack..." he shook his head. "I keep wondering if there wasn't anything more I could've done if I..." "..If you stayed on Thunder Force? Doc, I was *there* and *I* couldn't do anything. Don't go blaming yourself for what you had to do." "I'm beginning to sound like Zoner, aren't I?" "You're not *quite* that bad." "Yeah..." a shortish paused ensued. "Y'know, when I look at her, the one thing I remember, I mean, *really* remember, was her in the RI's Sickbay." Martin smiled. "Oh, yeah...I remember that. You were yelling at HER, a COMMANDER, to stay in Sickbay until she recovered. Then again, we didn't pay much attention to rank in those days, did we?" "Nope. But, I remember that she gave me this little pout, and I thought that'd break my heart right then and there. But, I held firm. For all the good it did me." "Yeah. The day after, she snuck out on you, as I recall." "A testament to my bedside manner, eh?" Pearson joked. The two had a good laugh at this. "So...how're *you* doing?" the shorter man asked, genuinely concerned. "Me? Well..." Martin looked considerably uneasy. The subject of Pearson's query obviously still disturbed him, but at least he didn't break down crying at the mention of Noriko anymore. "You wouldn't have wanted to see me those first few months. I was practically a basket case when she first woke up. I think Eiko had a helluva time dealing with me. But...we're getting along. How 'bout you?" Shrug. "I'm okay, I guess. I'm pretty much over Keri's death, if that's what you meant. Although..." he shook his head, as if what he was about to say had been ever-present, but not organized. "I dunno why I never remarried. To be honest, I probably never will. But somehow...there's this little part of me that keeps saying `Never give up hope.' It's crazy, I know, but that little part of me keeps hoping that Keriyn'll come back to me. I guess that's why I need this assignment." "I don't quite follow you." "To take my mind off her, Marty. I need action, I need adventure. *Anything* to keep me from thinking about the `what-ifs.' When that starts happening, I'm no good to anybody." "I can relate to that." Martin agreed. Pearson eyed the view of New Avalon appreciatively. There was still plenty of sunlight from Zeta Cygni, and on the street next to them, children were playing hopscotch. He allowed himself a small smile as he took in this scene of suburbia. It reminded him of Hoffman Estates back on Earth. [Maybe I'll move here when my tour's up.] he considered, then put the key into the ignition. "Well, I'd better be going. Gotta pack my things, y'know." "You wanna stay for supper?" Martin offered. "Mmmm...nah, that's okay," he made himself more comfortable in the seat and produced his own fishing hat in the same manner as Noriko's. Plopping it on his head, he said, "I've gotta take care of a few things. Do me a favor, though." "What?" "When she graduates high school...heck, when she graduates junior high, let me know. I'll be there, even if I have to take the 4th dimensional shortcut." "You got it. Don't be a stranger, Doc." "Too late. I'm already strange. But, then again, are there any *truly* normal people in this universe?" Almost immediately, he raised an eyebrow and held up his index finger. "Don't answer that." Martin snapped his fingers. "Darn." "I'll be in touch. And, if not in touch, in sight. See ya, Marty." "Later, Doc." Motioning for Marty to get clear of the backwash, Doc2 closed the gull-wing door, started the car, and blasted off at a (relatively) sane speed. JUNE 26, 2385 (392 years A.L.) The DeLorean glided into the shuttlebay of the Excelsior-class ship, making a soft landing. The bay doors closed, and the area repressurized. Doc2 opened the gull-wing door and headed for the bridge, his new rank shiny on his shoulder strap and a WDF Invulnerable combadge on his uniform, the one used for the tactical fleet. Of course, the inside turtleneck was a greenish shade, a holdover from his usual taste in clothes. Doc2 simply wouldn't have picked any other color. Hefting his admittedly meager belongings along, he headed out of the shuttlebay and to the nearest turbolift. He could've just transported up and left others to deal with the DeLorean, he supposed. Seeing as how it was with him for 400+ years however, he trusted few people to not go poking around and even fewer that wouldn't take joyrides in the space-time continuum. Not that anyone other than him could access the time circuits, but still...better safe than sorry. The turbolift doors slid open and he got in. "Bridge." he commanded, then changed his mind. "Cancel that. Sickbay." If he was going to do surgery there, he might as well check out the facilities. He looked around at the enclosed surroundings of the lift and smiled to himself. [Not bad, Pearson. Not bad.] he commented to himself. ['Course, I kinda wish I got assigned on the SDF-23, but then again, an Excelsior-class battleship is nothing to sneeze at, either.] The lift stopped, and the doors opened. Entering Sickbay, he found someone at a terminal, presumably scanning through some journals. "Uh...excuse me..." The man held up his index finger, not even bothering to look around. "I'll be done in a minute, hold your horses." Hold your horses? Doc2 mouthed out. There was something seriously wrong here. Exactly 30 seconds later, the man swiveled his chair to face Pearson. He was in his mid-forties, moderately built, and had just a touch of grey showing at his temples. He looked like your stereotypical family doctor. "So, what can I do for you?" He peered at Doc2. "Say, I haven't seen you around here. You just transferred or something?" "Uh...yeah. Who're you?" "Ah! He gets straight to the point. Well," he said with a flourish, "I'm the CMO of this ship, Leonard Boyce. Let me correct that, I'm CMO until some hotshot named 'Moo-we' takes over my job." "It's pronounced 'Moy.'" Doc2 automatically corrected him. "You know him, do you?" "Yeah, I'd say so." "With my luck, he's probably some stupid know-it-all kid who wants to change the world." Boyce muttered. "I take it you don't like him very much." Doc2 commented. "Listen, kid. When you reach my age, you've seen it all and done it all. I don't think he can do the job quite like I have." "So, uh, why're you leaving?" Boy