POWER STAR The Imagination Anthology ISSUE 90 SEPTEMBER 1995 Jerry Seward, Editor Emeritus Kimberly Murphy-Smith, Managing Editor Monica Rose Kiesel, Production Director Brian Neale, e-mail "Postmaster" Bennet Pomerantz, Collectibles Columnist J. Calvin Smith, Manuscript Editor CONTRIBUTORS: D. Lynn Bivens, Darlene Damp, Judy H. Wilson New Season Highlights "Star Light, Star Bright", By Kimberly Murphy-Smith. . . . . . . . . . . .6 The Book House Boys are on a mission to stop drug runners using TWIN PEAKS as their throughway in this complete-in-this-issue tale. "The Almost, Absolutely, Positively, Ultimate KAOS Kaper", By D. Lynn Bivens. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Can Maxwell Smart and Agent 707 GET SMART enough to save the former chief of CONTROL from KAOS agents controlling his retirement home? The conclusion is here! "Leap In, Fade Out", Part Two, By D. Lynn Bivens . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Sam Beckett has QUANTUM LEAPed into INVISIBLE MAN Dan Weston--but is he there to save Dan or stop a new killer weapon from being built? The story continues! "Uneasy Relations", By Kimberly Murphy-Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49 CAPTAIN SCARLET AND THE MYSTERONS face off over a conference between Spectrum and the European Commanders of the World Military--one of whom is Captain Scarlet's father. Returning Shows Credits `N' Stuff. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2 Who did what kind of art/graphics this issue, plus the usual disclaimers, addresses, etc. Musings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2 We say goodbye for now to an old friend. Subscription Rates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4 Our usual advertising plug. POWER STAR Shareware Distributors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4 Got a modem? Check out these BBSs where POWER STAR and lots of other great stuff can be found. Movie Reviews, By Darlene Damp And Judy H. Wilson. . . . . . . . . . . . 78 Reviews of JUDGE DREDD and APOLLO 13. Comm Panel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 Your reviews of our new season. "Ye Olde Collectables And Trivia Shoppe", By Bennet Pomerantz. . . . . . 84 Bennet Pomerantz's nationally-renowned column on the latest in collectables. Back Issues Cross-Reference. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 Home movies from previous issues of POWER STAR. Coming Next Time.... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 ...we go trick or treating. Read all about it. * * * * * * * * POWER STAR is a monthly amateur fanzine devoted to science fiction, fantasy, and horror in all media and is published by Kimberly Murphy-Smith and Jerry Seward. Seeking material--fiction and non-fiction, prose, poetry, and artwork--on all forms of fantastic media. Comments are welcome. Submission guidelines are available upon request. Issues 1-23 are no longer available. Other issues are available upon request. Shareware copies (ASCII text only), starting with issue 71, are available on several BBSs worldwide, including the official BBS of POWER STAR, =ACE= Online. On your modem, dial (301) 942-2218 (8-N-1, 28800). Comments or submissions may be left as a message for Kimberly Murphy. A complete up-to-date (as of publication date) list of BBSs carrying POWER STAR can be found on p. 4 of this issue. BBS SysOps interested in distributing POWER STAR should contact Kimberly at either the post office or e-mail address below. Issues and shareware registration cost $5.00 ($7.50 in Canada/Mexico; $10.00 for other foreign countries) in U.S. funds. Discounts are available for volume purchases. All issues are shipped at Fourth Class Book Rate (U.S. orders) or Printed Matter Airmail rate (overseas orders) unless otherwise requested; there is an extra fee of $3.00 for faster shipping. Make check or money order payable to Kimberly Murphy-Smith. Address all correspondence to Kimberly Murphy-Smith: Regular mail: 9640-K Barrel House Road/Laurel, Maryland 20723 USA/(301) 604-6824 Primary e-mail/internet submissions: kimberly.murphy@acenet.com America Online Submissions: Pwrstr Manuscript Editor's address: calvin.smith@ghawk.com Additional e-mail stops: kimmurphy@aol.com or kimberly.murphy@ghawk.com (Snailmail information requests, please enclose SASE. E-mail information requests, please include e-mail address in the body of request to prevent misrouting of replies.) Copyright 1995, Jerry Seward/Kimberly Murphy-Smith. POWER STAR is in no way meant to infringe the rights of holders of copyrights referred to in this publication. All original stories and artwork are copyrighted to the authors. ****** ** Musings Commentary By Kimberly Murphy-Smith "I need a break." With those words, prolific fandom writer and POWER STAR regular Dan Lynn Bivens announced that he would not be writing any more for POWER STAR for the foreseeable future. Dan has been a part of POWER STAR since early in its life, when he wrote his first piece for the fledgling zine. When Editor Emeritus Jerry Seward founded POWER STAR almost ten years ago, it was a non-media-based zine, thin on content, and irregularly published. With Dan's help, POWER STAR began to grow into what it is today--a monthly zine packed with media-based fiction read by hundreds (perhaps thousands) of fans all over the world. But health problems and personal problems have slowed Dan's output over the past year, and he's found it harder and harder to keep up. "I wasn't getting any feedback," he said, "and what I was getting seemed really hypercritical. And I just don't have the energy to keep it up if I'm not getting anything out of it." Dan was quick to offer praise to the people who make POWER STAR run. "I know my strengths and weaknesses as a writer, and I also know that there have been stories I've written that I cringe when I see them in print. But they've gotten better, and the credit for a lot of that improvement has to go to Jerry and Kimberly." He also offers thanks to Manuscript Editor Calvin Smith "for helping make my words a lot better" and Collectibles Columnist Bennet Pomerantz "for appreciating my strengths. But sometimes Mr. Pomerantz doesn't realize how much Kimberly and Jerry add to my pieces. I'm a pretty good action writer--that's pretty much agreed by all my critics; most of the rejection letters I've gotten stress that--but I've always had trouble with characterization unless it's something like STAR TREK, where I know the characters inside and out. Jerry's a great idea man, and a really good writer on his own; I wish he'd write more stuff, because he gives me almost all of the ideas that end up in stories `I' wrote. And Kimberly's a genius when it comes to characterization; I can't write the kinds of things she writes. Her dialogue is true; her characters act real; her stories say something. "I'm not one of those writers with a huge ego," Dan went on. "In fact, I have NO ego--that's my problem. I need some kind of reassurance that I should keep going with this. I'm not giving up writing--Jerry and I are trying to get some things sold right now, in fact--just writing for POWER STAR. I'm not going to say I'll never write for POWER STAR again--like Sean Connery [who once vowed he would never play James Bond again, then recreated the role years later in NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN], I learned the hard way to `never say never'--but right now, with my health problems and all that's going on in my life, I just can't keep it up. Maybe down the road I'll feel different. I've been through this before, I'll probably go through it again." Dan added that he knows he's got some unfinished tales in POWER STAR. "I know they've got to get done," he said, "and I know that Kimberly's got enough material of mine to keep going for a long time even without me giving her anything new. I'll probably do what I did with part two of [the Murphy/Bivens CAPTAIN SCARLET story] `Pawns Of Evil'--turn in fairly detailed outlines to Jerry or Kimberly and let them finish the stories. It'd give Jerry a chance to show off his writing skills, and we all know what Kimberly's capable of when she has outlines like that. A lot of people don't realize that she, for all intents and purposes, wrote part two of [the FOREVER KNIGHT story] `Rogue' when the original was lost in the mail and I had to send her a script-like outline." Dan wishes everyone the best. "POWER STAR has really grown in ways I couldn't have imagined when I started writing for Jerry way back when. It's grown beyond my talents. The layout and look is really professional, and the writing quality is just so much better than it was, thanks to a wider variety of writers like Mary Rudy, Calvin Smith, and lots of others. All the graphics are great, the artwork is great, and I look forward to reading it. I just wish there was more feedback on my specific work, but I understand that with the direction the zine has taken toward the electronic world, that's just not going to be. But keep writing and keep reading--I know I will." Take care, Dan, God Bless, and Godspeed. We'll be here whenever you're ready to return. -- Kimberly ****** ** POWER STAR The Imagination Anthology Back Issues Pricing Policy: For all issues except The POWER STAR Yearbook and Issue 50: $5.00 per single issue, $9.00 for two issues, $12.50 for three issues, $25.00 for six issues, $40.00 for twelve issues. The POWER STAR Yearbook and Issue 50 are priced at: $15.00 each, or $25.00 for both issues. (Canada/Mexico, add $2.50 in U.S. funds per order; other overseas countries, add $5.00 per order.) ****** ** POWER STAR Shareware Distributors ASCII text versions of POWER STAR are available on the BBSs and FTP sites listed below. These issues are "shareware"; they may be registered for a "final" finished paper copy for the same price as a regular issue. Discount registrations are also available. New issues are usually uploaded by the 10th of the month. Check out these boards! BBS Name . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Phone number =ACE= Online . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (301) 942-2218 001 Science Fiction (POWER STAR Online Bulletin) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (713) 778-0239 Abacus BBS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (334) 393-6312 Atomic Books BBS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 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But when an important surveillance goes awry, six of the Book House Boys, including Harry and Dale, must flee for their lives and depend on that core of goodness to save them. Welcome to TWIN PEAKS--the POWER STAR universe, where it's December 1989, Harry Truman is married to Dale's twin sister, Diane Cooper-Truman (the same Diane who received all of Dale's dictation during the series, in this universe), Dale is married to Ben Horne's nineteen-year-old daughter Audrey, and both couples are expecting twins in the spring of 1990. For those unfamiliar with this universe, I highly recommend reading "The Saga of Dale and Diane" in The POWER STAR Yearbook; for those unfamiliar with the series itself, I recommend reading "Who's Who in TWIN PEAKS" in issue 54 of POWER STAR. Below is a list of characters in this story, and the actors that either played them in the series or whom I cast myself for characters I created. Casting of my own creation is marked with an asterisk. * * * * * * * * Cast of Characters Kyle MacLachlan. . . . . . . . F.B.I. Special Agent Dale Bartholomew Cooper Michael Ontkean. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Sheriff Harry S. Truman Susan Anton (*). . . . . . . . F.B.I. Special Agent Diana Lee Cooper-Truman Sherilyn Fenn. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Audrey Horne Cooper Harry Goaz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Deputy Andy Brennan Michael Horse. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Deputy Tommy "Hawk" Hill Everett McGill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."Big" Ed Hurley Kimmy Robertson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lucy Moran Brennan Daniel J. Travanti (*) . . . . . . . . . F.B.I. Special Agent Rex P. Caliph Brett Vadset . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Joey Paulson * * * * * * * * And now, the story. Enjoy! * * * * * * * * The annoyed cry of a hungry baby filled the air of the lobby of the Twin Peaks Sheriff's Department as F.B.I. Special Agents Dale Cooper and Diane Cooper-Truman entered. The fraternal twin agents looked at each other oddly. Receptionist Lucy Moran Brennan rose into view as she sat up straight at her desk once more, cradling her month-old infant son which she had just removed from the portable crib next to her chair. "Sorry about that," she said. "Can-Do Temps couldn't spare anybody with the Christmas holidays approaching." "It's all right, Lucy," Dale replied. "It's a sound Harry probably ought to be getting used to." He walked over and took the baby from her arms. "Hi, Aaron," he said, gently holding baby Aaron Walter Brennan. "What's all that fussing about?" Aaron looked back at him with the oddly fascinated look common to all newborns. "Sounds like he's hungry," Diane said, taking him from Dale and holding him in her arms above her large abdomen, its shape growing more round as her pregnancy with twins progressed to its midpoint, four and one-half months. "You hungry, Aaron?" Aaron nuzzled against her breast in reply." "Sorry, honey," Diane giggled. "They don't work yet. Give them a few months." She handed the baby back to Lucy. Aaron began fussing again. "Just a minute," Lucy soothed, inserting a pacifier into his mouth to silence him for a moment. "Andy?" she called. Deputy Andy Brennan entered the lobby. "Yes, Lucy?" he said. "Watch the desk for a minute," she said. "I have to take care of him." "Can I help?" "Not with this." Andy suddenly nodded in recognition. "Oh," he said, somewhat embarrassed. "Sorry." Lucy headed off for the ladies' room. Dale patted andy on the shoulder. "Cheer up, Andy," he said. "I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities for you to help." "I hope so," Andy replied. "Lucy doesn't let me do anything." "I imagine that'll change," Diane commented. "She's still trying to get used to being a mommy. Just keep offering to help." "O.K.," Andy promised. Dale and Diane smiled at him, then headed into Sheriff Harry S. Truman's office. Harry was on the phone when they entered. "Yeah, thanks, Ed," he was saying. "Gotta go. I'll get with you later. Bye." He hung up and rose from his chair, then headed over to greet his wife and brother-in-law. "Hi, honey," he said, kissing Diane gently. "How're you feeling?" "Tired," she admitted. "I never knew desk duty could be so draining." "Coop, I thought you were supposed to make her behave herself," Harry commented. "It's hard to make her behave when I'm out on the streets," Dale replied. "Shackling her to the desk isn't accepted Bureau practice." "Now, wait a minute," Diane retorted. "I stay at my desk." "When you're not at the copier, or in Rex's office, or down in the forensics lab, or..." "Aha," Harry said, smiling. "No wonder you're so tired." "If they'd put my desk on wheels, I could stay there," Diane replied. "But since they won't..." "`Nuff said," Harry stated, then turned to Dale. "Busy tonight, Coop?" Actually, yes, Dale thought to himself. This was the night he and his wife, Audrey Horne Cooper, had planned to decorate their first Christmas tree together. But something told him this wasn't a social question. "Not really," he finally replied aloud. "Good. Why don't you stop on by the Book House around 7:00?" So this WASN'T a social question, Dale thought. The Book House Boys were planning their next move in response to a new drug trafficking route from Canada to Spokane through Twin Peaks. The elite group of Twin Peaks' finest civilians and policemen had spent the past three weeks tracking suspected couriers up and down Highway 21--Dale included, providing background checks through the F.B.I. computer files of suspects identified by Book House Boys surveillance. Harry's goal was a complete sweep of all involved--top to bottom, no one walking away. And they were palpably close to that goal. "Sure," he replied. "But I need to run home first." "No problem," Harry replied, slipping his arm around Diane's waist. "Good," Dale said, turning to go. "See you at seven." He stopped at the door, then turned back and stroked his right temple with his index and middle fingers--the Book House Boys' sign. Harry responded in kind. Dale left. Diane looked at her husband. "I know, I know," she said. "It's safer for me if I don't know what the Book House Boys are up to now." He nodded. "It's for your own protection," he replied, placing a gentle hand on her abdomen. "And for our twins." "This is big, isn't it?" He looked at her stomach and smiled. "Yeah, you are getting big..." "Cut it out, Harry. You know what I mean. This is the biggest thing the Book House Boys have been involved with. And you're nervous about that." "Nothing I can't handle." His words belied the tension he was feeling. And Diane could tell. She embraced him as best she could. "Just don't try to handle it alone, Harry," she urged. "Promise me." "I promise," he replied. "I've got a team I can depend on." "Maybe someday I can be part of that team." He scowled. "A Book House Girl? I don't think the guys'd go for that." "You'd have to persuade them." "I don't know. You'd have to persuade me first." She kissed him sensuously. He smiled. "I like your persuasive technique," he said. "I can be very convincing," Diane smiled back. "I'd like to see that." She kissed him again, this time more sensuously than before. "Convinced?" she said when they broke. He looked thoughtful. "I'll have to think it over a little longer," he replied. "Maybe do a little more research." He pulled her close once more. Their lips locked into a deep soul kiss. Dale pulled his black wool coat out of the hall closet and swept it on quickly, then headed for the kitchen to say good-bye to Audrey. He found his wife still seated at the kitchen table, looking forlornly at the dinner dishes. "Are you all right, Audrey?" he asked. She looked up at him, a mixture of sadness and annoyance on her face. "Aha," he said. "We are not happy." "You should be a detective," she retorted. He sighed hard. "Audrey, I've already explained..." "I know, I know. This is important. But you can't tell me why because it would be better if I didn't know." She began sulking again. He knelt down next to her. "Audrey," he said, "I have to go. Harry put his trust in me when no one else would and gave me the full backing of the Book House Boys when I needed them. It's my turn to give something back." "But why this? Whatever's going on, it can't be entirely legal, otherwise you'd have no need to sneak around dressed in black. And you got suspended once for something like this when you and Harry rescued me from One Eyed Jack's..." "I got suspended because a crooked Mountie and a drug dealer set me up. This is different." He took her hand. "Audrey, I'll be fine." She looked at him, anger now replaced by worry. "Dale, I'm scared," she said softly. "I know. But I'll be all right. I know how to take care of myself. And I've got a lot of good men to back me up." He placed a hand on her stomach, softly rounded in the third month of pregnancy with twins. "Besides, worrying isn't good for these little ones. So don't worry." "I'll try," she promised. "Good." He kissed her gently. "Don't wait up." He started to get to his feet. She stopped him and pulled him close for another, deeper kiss. They broke and smiled at each other. "I think you're trying to hold me up," he teased. "It's working," she replied, moving in to kiss him again. Their lips met again, parted briefly, then rejoined in a stronger kiss. They finally reluctantly broke and met each other's gaze once more. "You're making this difficult," he scolded. "What makes you say that?" she said, kissing his ear sensuously. He smiled at the pleasant sensation of her lips on his earlobe and neck. "Because I'm now torn between going to my meeting or taking you to the bedroom and making mad, passionate love to you for the rest of the night." "M-m-m," she purred. "Anything I can do to tip the balance?" He considered answering her question, then forced himself to return to the task at hand. He took her by the shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her away from him. "No," he said firmly. "I have to go. It's my duty." He stroked her cheek with a gentle hand. "I love you," he said warmly. She took his hand off her cheek and kissed it. "I love you, too," she replied, her voice shaky. He got to his feet and forced himself to leave. Audrey waited until she heard his car start, then reached down and rubbed her belly. "Your daddy's gone off to save the world," she said to her unborn twins. "Mommy just hopes he knows what he's getting himself into." The Book House was dark, save for a single bright light over a round table in the corner of the room. Dale entered the meeting of the secret society and headed over to the table, where five members--Ed Hurley, Joey Paulson, Deputy Tommy "Hawk" Hill, Andy Brennan, and Harry Truman--sat waiting for him. Dale stroked his right temple with two fingers in greeting. The five returned the gesture. Harry pulled back a chair for the Special Agent and offered him a seat. Dale sat down and joined them. Sorry I'm late," he apologized. "Audrey tried to make me a better offer." "I'm not so sure you wouldn't have been better off taking it," Ed replied. "Tonight's not a good night for surveillance." "I noticed. The sky's too clear. Too much starlight and moonlight. And it's getting damn cold out there." "Unfortunately," Joey said, "it's tonight or maybe never. I've been following our mule all day. He looked awfully edgy. The big deal's about to go down." "How big?" Dale asked. "From what I've been able to overhear, we're talking millions of bucks. There was a lot of activity at that lakeside cabin this afternoon...and they were really paranoid. I almost couldn't get back out of there, the surveillance was so tight." "O.K.," Harry said. "That means we've got to watch each other's backs. Now, I don't want any heroics. We get in trouble, nobody gets left alone. I want everybody paired off. Hawk, you and Joey stick together. Andy, you and Ed stick together. If we get in a jam, split up into your teams and get the Hell out of there. Remember, the object is to get them back on our side of the border with the goods. Anything less is a failure. Understood?" The others nodded. "One more thing," Dale interjected. "In this room right now, there are four lawmen and two civilians. When we cross that border, there will be six civilians. When we cross that border, we are in another country. Our badges mean nothing. Four of us will be illegally possessing firearms. We have no backup except ourselves. This is dangerous. We could all go to jail for what we are doing, and there is nothing anyone could do to get us out. Now, if any of you are uncomfortable with that reality, speak up now." Silence filled the room for a few moments. Finally, Hawk broke the impasse. "Let's do it," he said. The six men saluted each other with the Book House Boys' sigh. Then, they stood up and left the room. Diane was stirring a large scoop of peanut butter into her cookie dough when a knock at the door sounded. She mock-frowned at her tummy. "Who could that be?" she asked her babies, then headed for the front door and peered out through the long window alongside it to see who was outside. She saw Audrey standing on the porch, shivering against the December chilling wind. Diane quickly opened the door. "Audrey?" she greeted quizzically. "What in the world are you doing out there? It's cold!" "I hadn't noticed," Audrey replied sarcastically. "May I come in?" "Of course." Diane stepped aside and let her sister-in-law inside. Audrey shook off her coat and shivered for a moment, rubbing her arms to get warm. Then, she smiled nervously. "Am I interrupting anything?" "Oh, no. I was just baking Christmas cookies. Want to help?" "Sure." "Let me take your coat." Diane took her coat and hung it in the hall closet. "Coffee?" "Please. At this point, I don't even care if it's decaf." "Good...because that's all I've got." The two ladies headed into the kitchen, where Diane poured Audrey a large mug of steaming black coffee. Audrey took a seat at the kitchen table and drank a long, luxurious sip of the hot liquid. "M-m-m," she sighed. "I needed this." Then, she looked at the bowl of cookie dough on the table. "What kind are you making?" "Peanut Butter Drops--peanut butter cookies with Hershey's kisses in the center." "Sounds wonderful. What can I do?" Diane pointed to a bag of kisses on the table. "Start unwrapping." Audrey laughed, then opened the bag and began shelling the chocolates. Diane began stirring the dough again. Audrey absently unwrapped chocolates onto the plate Diane had set in front of her. "Wonder what those two are up to?" she finally commented aloud. "I don't know," Diane replied. "I don't ask...Harry doesn't tell." "Aren't you even a little bit curious?" "Of course. But I've been told I'm not allowed to get involved." "And you accept that?" "Yes, I do." She looked at Audrey oddly. "Something wrong with that?" "No. It's just...well, it's not your style. You're always such a go-getter, always wanting to be in the middle of things..." "Yeah...kind of like my sister-in-law." Audrey looked embarrassed. "Guess I still sound like an immature teenager, huh?" "Not really. You sound more frustrated than immature. Feel left out?" She sighed hard. "At least you're a Special Agent, Diane. You have some idea what's going on. I don't understand any of this. They're off sneaking around, trying to save the world, and I have no idea from what." Diane nodded. "Well, it may not exactly ease your mind, but I have a good idea of what they're doing." Audrey looked up at her. "Well?" "From what I've been able to gather, they're tracing a drug trail. Apparently, there's some sort of Calgary-to-Spokane drug route that runs directly through Twin Peaks, and the Book House Boys have kept it under heavy surveillance for the past three weeks. Their must be something important going down tonight, though." "Any idea what?" "No." Audrey sighed and continued unwrapping. Diane continued to stir, stopping for a moment to rub her abdomen. "All that stirring waking you up?" she asked her tummy. Audrey giggled. "They must be moving." "Wiggling around. They were quiet until just a minute ago." Audrey smoothed her dress over her stomach. "Mine don't move much." "They probably move more than you think. Remember, twins are smaller than singlets at this stage. They move just as much--but they've got more room to move around." She stopped and rubbed her stomach again. "Be thankful. Mine are starting to run out of room--they push on my uterus a lot, and I end up with muscle stitches when it tries to expand to accommodate them." "I've had a few of those. Dale's real good about rubbing my sides when they get sore." "Harry is, too. He likes to sit with his hands on my stomach and feel the babies move. He feels some of the little ripples I don't, and he thinks it's neat." "Dale's the same way. He just sits and holds me some nights, and the smile on his face could light a room. She paused. "At least you know if he's O.K.," she commented. Diane looked at her oddly. "Harry?" "Dale." Diane nodded. "True." "I wish I did." Diane smiled warmly at her young sister-in-law. "I suspect you do." Audrey laughed slightly. "I'm no empath." "No. You're his wife. You share a part of him that I can never know." She blushed slightly. "Sometimes, I'm envious." Audrey looked up at Diane. "You really are just like him." "In what way?" "We were talking the other day about babies and the future, and he said that he sometimes wished he knew the part of your soul that Harry knew...that he was almost envious of Harry sometimes." Diane laughed slightly. "God, we are just alike," she concurred. "That's scary." She patted her tummy. "I can't imagine what my identical twins are going to be like." "I know," Audrey agreed, pointing to her tummy. "And my set isn't far behind. Can you imagine four little Coopers running around?" Diane cringed slightly. "Think we should warn the school system?" Audrey thought for a moment. "No. Let them sleep a few more years." Both ladies started laughing, their worries temporarily forgotten. It had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Dale, Harry, Andy, Hawk, Ed, and Joey raced at breakneck speed from their various vantage points around the rundown cabin on the north side of Black Lake as six men brandishing automatic weapons ran after them, firing rapidly. The six Book House Boys had finally traced their heavily-watched suspects to this Canadian cabin, where a buy was scheduled to take place. They had planned to follow the couriers back across the U.S. border and make an arrest there. But that was before an apparently hungry rottweiler had tried to make lunch out of Joey...and had alerted its owners to the presence of the watchers outside. Now, the Book House Boys were running for their lives, trying to make it back to their vehicles, left at the side of the road about a mile back, and escape across the border--twenty-five miles away. "Jesus!" Joey shouted as a shot whizzed by his ear. "They're getting closer!" "When we get back to the cars, split into your teams," Harry ordered. "See you on the other side," Hawk replied. The six men reached three vehicles--Joey's Harley, Ed's Jeep, and Harry's four-wheel-drive Suburban--and quickly divided into their designated groups. Joey's cycle roared to life and sped away into the woods, followed quickly by Ed's Jeep, and headed back down the main road toward the U.S. border. Harry started his engine and tore away from the pursuing group the opposite direction from the one the others had taken. "What are you doing?" Dale asked. "This road circles the lake," Harry replied. "We're taking the long way around and giving the others a chance to escape." He gestured behind him at the shotgun rack with a double-barrel shotgun mounted on it. "Know how to use one of those?" Dale nodded. The first time he'd been forced to take a human life in the line of duty, he'd used a shotgun and fired two deadly accurate rounds into the chest of the armed suspect who refused to drop the weapon he had aimed at Dale's forehead. The experience had not been something he had enjoyed. But it was necessary...just as it might be necessary tonight. He reached behind him and picked up the gun, then primed it and lowered his window. They sped down the road, following its winding course around the north side of the massive lake. Harry glanced in his rear-view mirror at the empty road behind him. "Looks like we got a jump on them," he said. "Either that, or they're running without lights..." "Harry!" Dale interrupted, looking off to the passenger's side. "Look out!" Harry looked to his right--and nearly ran into the pickup truck that had suddenly pulled in front of them from the woods off to their right. He swerved wildly, barely missing the truck, and sped on. The pickup roared after them. Shots echoed around them as it did. "Looks like we've got company," Harry deadpanned. "And well-armed company at that," Dale agreed. "Step on it." Harry hit the accelerator. The V-8 engine roared louder as their speed increased. The shots were getting closer...and so was the pickup behind them. Harry's headlights suddenly reflected off two shiny points in the darkness as a shadowy figure ahead came into view. "Holy...," Harry said as he suddenly spotted the massive doe in his path, standing in the middle of the lane, mesmerized by the headlights as they reflected off her eyes. "Hang on!" Dale hastily braced himself for the impending collision as Harry tried in vain to swerve... A-A-A-G-H! Diane screamed suddenly, dropping the bowl of dough onto the table as one hand clutched her abdomen and the other her head. "Diane?" Audrey said, rising from her seat and hurrying over to her sister-in-law. "Are you all right?" Diane shook her head as her breathing became more labored and forced. "Something's happened," she said between gasps. "Something's gone very wrong...Dale and Harry are hurt...oh, God, what's happened?" "Oh, my God," Audrey whispered, trying to still her rising panic. "Can you tell what?" Diane shook her head again. "No. I felt some kind of jolting pain--like a collision. But I don't know what happened..." "Come on," Audrey said, pulling a chair out at the kitchen table. "Sit down. I'll call the Sheriff's Station." Diane took a seat, still shaking and rocking back and forth from the blast of psychic energy her empathy had absorbed. Audrey walked across the room and picked up the phone, then hastily dialed a number. "Lucy, this is Audrey," she said when someone answered. "Are any of the Book House Boys back yet?" "Not yet," came Lucy's reply. "But Andy said they might be gone for a while. Why?" "Diane just had a feeling something's gone wrong." "A dream?" "Sort of like that. Can you reach any of them?" "I'll try. Hold on." Audrey held the phone anxiously, each moment of silence becoming more and more difficult to take. Finally, Lucy returned. "I can't reach the Sheriff," she replied. "And that's kind of strange, because he has a police radio in his truck just like he has in his cruiser. He must not be anywhere near his radio." "Or he's out of range," Audrey guessed. "Lucy, we'll be right there." "O.K. Bye." Audrey quickly hung up the phone, then turned to her sister-in-law. "Lucy said none of them are back, and she can't raise Harry." "My God," Diane whispered. "Audrey, something terrible has happened. I am absolutely cold all over." "I know," Audrey replied, coming over to Diane. "You've turned pale. And that can't be good for you or the babies." She took the bowl of dough and put it in the refrigerator. "Come on. I told Lucy we'd come down to the station and wait for news. It'll keep us from both going crazy." Diane nodded. "Give me a minute." She took a deep breath and composed herself, then stood up. "Let's go." Dale felt something warm and sticky next to his head. He forced his eyes open and looked around. A shiny black eye looked back at him. Dale nearly had a heart attack before he realized he was looking at the head of the doe that had come through Harry's windshield. It took another few seconds before he realized the truck was lying on its side--and he was on the high end of the truck, resting against the deer's carcass. Think clearly, he commanded himself. You're not out of danger yet. Assess the situation and react accordingly. He sniffed the air and detected the familiar aroma of gasoline. Terrific, he thought. Got to get out of here. But got to get Harry out, too. A low moan startled him before he realized where it was coming from. "Harry?" Dale whispered. Harry moaned again. "Harry!" Dale said a bit louder. "We've got to get out of here. Can you move?" Harry moaned again before words finally became clear. "There's something in my way," he replied in a raspy, pained voice. "I know. Can you help me push it back through the windshield?" "I'll try." Dale grasped the shotgun with both hands and used the barrel as a horizontal bar to push on the head of the deer, finally managing to shove it back through the shattered windshield. Then, he looked down at Harry. The Sheriff was covered in blood--Dale couldn't tell immediately if it was Harry's or the doe's--and looked disoriented. He was lying against the driver's side door, weak and barely moving. "Harry?" Dale called. "Harry?" Harry's head stirred again. "Harry!" Dale demanded. "Look at me. Talk to me." Harry stirred once more, then opened his eyes and tried to focus on Dale. "Coop," he whispered, then managed a weak smile. "Looks like I took a wrong turn." "Never mind that. Can you move?" "Yeah, I think so." "Good." Dale reached out the window, grasped the door handle and tried to pull himself out of the truck. "It's no use," he said after a momentary struggle. "Harry, can you undo my seat belt?" There was a long, tense moment before Dale felt the pressure of his seat belt release. He quickly pulled himself out of the truck and stood on the ground next to the Suburban. The dizziness nearly overwhelmed him. He held onto the side of the truck for a moment and stood still, trying to stop his head from spinning. His whole body ached. He had no doubt he had a concussion and cracked ribs and God-only-knows-what-else. But he had to get himself together. Both of their lives depended on it. "All right, Harry," Dale instructed, leaning back inside the window of the truck and extending the shotgun inside. "Undo your seat belt, then reach up and grab the shotgun. I'll help pull you up." Harry moved slowly, painfully. But he got his seat belt undone and reached up for the outstretched gun. He tried to get his feet out from under the steering column and gain some leverage--and the pain nearly overwhelmed him as he let out a cry of agony. "You all right?" Dale asked. Harry shook his head. "Feels like I broke my left ankle," he replied. "I can't put any weight on it." Terrific, Dale thought. Just terrific. "Can you get any weight on your right ankle?" "I'm trying. It's an awful tight fit in here." "Keep trying. I have no idea what happened to our friends in the pickup, but this thing's leaking gasoline badly. We're dead if we don't get out of here. Use the gun, Harry. Don't try to do it all yourself." Harry finally got his right foot under him and pulled hard on the gun as he forced his good foot to hold his weight. He managed to stand upright in the cab and grasped the exterior handle of the door to pull himself further out of the wrecked truck. Dale helped him climb out, then stood at his left as Harry tried to steady himself. "God, you're a mess," Dale commented wryly. "Thanks," Harry replied equally sarcastically. "You're looking pretty rundown yourself." "Can you walk?" "I'll try." "O.K. Lean on me." Dale slipped his right shoulder under Harry's left arm to hold him up. The two men tried to take a step forward. Harry nearly buckled to the ground as his left ankle refused to hold him up. It took everything Dale had to keep him from falling--including leaning on the stock of the shotgun as a cane. "Got to stabilize that leg," Dale commented aloud. "But I'll do it after we get to safety. Work with me, Harry." The two men began to move off into the dark woods once more, Harry now hopping on his good leg as he leaned against Dale for balance. The pair took several more hop-steps before Harry tripped on the root of a tree and crashed to the ground, bringing Dale with him this time. "A-A-A-G-H!" Harry cried in pain. The fall hurt Dale almost as badly as it did Harry. His cracked ribs sent a wave of pain through him as the dizziness caused by the bump on the head he'd taken in the collision threatened to overwhelm him and knock him unconscious. "Damn!" he swore under his breath, then caught himself and got his frustration under control. He forced himself to sit up, then moved over to help Harry. "You O.K.?" he asked. "Just dandy," Harry replied sardonically. "Scoot back under the tree," Dale ordered. "Let's take a look at what we've got here." Harry painfully moved back under the large Douglas fir behind him. "What we've got here," he said, "is a real mess." "Yeah, I can see that," Dale replied, looking him over in the moonlight. Even in the bad light, Dale could now determine that the blood on Harry's face was largely his own, mostly coming from a head wound suffered in the collision. The Special Agent quickly pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Harry's forehead to get a better look at the wound. "Nasty piece of work," he commented, then removed one of his gloves and held up two fingers in front of Harry's face. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked. Harry hesitated for a moment. "Two," he finally whispered. "Good guess," Dale said. "If I hadn't been holding them up, I might not have been able to tell, either. Let's take a look at that leg." He leaned forward to examine Harry's left ankle. Harry let out a low scream as Dale took hold of the joint. Dale quickly slapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Harry," he said softly, "I know it hurts. My head is spinning and I think I've broken the ribs on my left side. So believe me, I know it hurts. But there are well-armed men out there who will kill us the minute they find us. And I swear, if I have to, I'll knock you out to keep you quiet. Can I trust you to be quiet?" Harry nodded. Dale lifted his hand from Harry's mouth. Harry sighed hard. "Sorry," he whispered. "It's O.K.," Dale whispered back. "Just hang in there." He once again looked at Harry's ankle. Harry let out a low moan but otherwise kept quiet. That's the best I can hope for, Dale realized. "Can you move it?" he asked aloud. Harry slowly and painfully flexed the joint. Dale breathed a slight sigh of relief. "All right," he whispered. "It's probably a bad sprain, not a break. Leaving your boot on may be the best thing for it right now--it'll act as a brace. Let me know if it goes numb on you." He looked around them. "How far would you guess we are from the U.S. border?" "Good twenty miles or so," Harry whispered back. Too far to walk, Dale realized. "There's probably not a cabin within miles that isn't populated by our drug-dealing friends," he commented aloud. "And they're not going to give up just because our truck's a wreck on the side of the road. You think the Book House Boys will come looking for us?" "It'll take a while before they even realize something's happened to us," Harry pointed out. "Remember, it took us an hour to get out here in the first place." "True." He looked at the ground, now beginning to show the glimmer of frost in moonlight. "Getting colder, too. We've got to get out of here." "And go where?" "I don't know. But anywhere is better than here. Maybe if we move a little bit at a time, we can get back across the U.S. border eventually." "Twenty miles is a long walk, City Boy." "I was an Eagle Scout, Harry. I know all about long hikes. And I know we can't stay here or they'll find us. And we'll freeze to death if we don't keep moving. Can you stand up at all?" "I'll try." Harry put his right foot under him and clutched at the trunk of the tree as he tried to stand. He successfully made it to a standing position--only to crash back to the ground again when he tried to move away from the tree using his injured left leg. Dale quickly moved to aid him and help him back into a sitting position. "Are you all right?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "I keep getting dizzy," he said, "and my leg's not strong enough." He looked at Dale. "Go on, Coop. Get out of here. I'll lay low until this passes, then I'll follow." "You'll freeze to death before this passes--if they don't find you first. I'm not going anywhere without you." "Dammit, Coop, don't be stupid. You can walk, and I can't. No sense in them finding us both. Get out of here. Go get help. I'll be all right." "Harry, I'm not leaving, and that's final. Besides, my head is spinning so badly that I'd probably end up walking in circles or pitching into Black Lake. We're either going together or staying together." "And it doesn't sound like either of us is going anywhere fast." Harry leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes. "Don't go to sleep, Harry," Dale cautioned. "You've got a concussion. And I think I do, too. We're going to have to keep each other awake. We've got to make it through the night until we're both able to walk and think clearly. We've got to believe Hawk and Andy will send help when they figure out something's happened." Harry laughed slightly. "How are they going to find us?" he asked. "You once told me that Hawk could find anybody." "Yeah, but he's got to have a place to start. We all got out of there so fast I doubt I'd remember where we started." "He can follow the lake road." "We're a long way from the lake road now, Coop. He'd still have to find us in these woods." He leaned back and sighed once more. "Now, if it was Diane coming after us, I'd be a little less worried. She could find you with her eyes closed." He chuckled slightly. "She's incredible, Coop. You should hear her talking to those babies as if they could hear her and understand her. Maybe they can. It wouldn't surprise me. If she's bonded tightly with you, I'm sure she and the babies are bonded even closer." He paused. "I love her so much. Coop...if anything happens to me, promise me you'll take care of Diane and the babies." Dale looked at Harry. "Nothing's going to happen to you," he said. "Promise me!" Harry insisted angrily, his eyes pleading. Dale met his brother-in-law's intense gaze. The anger and desperation in that gaze was almost palpable. Dale had never seen Harry so frightened. This is important to him, Dale realized. If promising to care for Diane and her children would bring peace to Harry's heart, he knew he could not refuse. He took Harry's hand in his. "I promise," he told the Sheriff softly. "But you have to promise to keep fighting...for Diane's sake. For those babies' sake. Let that love you feel keep you fighting." Harry nodded. "O.K.," he answered in a soft whisper. There was a long pause as both men sat in silence. Finally, Harry spoke up again. "I don't suppose there's any way you can reach Diane," he said with a slight hopeful chuckle. "I don't know," Dale confessed. "We're so far apart right now...I can just barely feel her deep worry. She knows something's happened, and she's frustrated and scared because she can't reach me either." "That's an awful lot for being `far apart'. Sure you can't reach her?" Dale leaned back against the large Douglas fir next to Harry. Maybe there was something more he could do. What was it that the dream master Morpheus had said--his clairvoyance was so strong that the extremes it reached during his ordeal with the psychic-enhancing drug didn't even begin to approximate its true strength? And Diane was equally strong, Morpheus had claimed. But both of their powers were held back by conscious mental barriers they erected to protect their sanity, Morpheus had told him. Maybe he could reach her. It was certainly worth a try. He closed his eyes and began concentrating. Diane, he mentally spoke, I need you to hear me. Reach out to me. Nothing. Not even mental static came in reply. He tried again. Diane, I'm in trouble. I can feel you through the power of our bond...but I need to hear you. And I need you to hear me. Harry's hurt, Diane. He needs you. Help us, Diane. Again, nothing. Dale pounded the ground in frustration. "I can't reach her, Harry," he whispered apologetically. "I'm sorry." Harry sighed. "Guess it was too much to hope for," he replied softly. "Don't give up, Harry. Fight for that lady and those babies. They need you. Twin Peaks needs you." "I know. It's just so hard...I just want to go to sleep..." "I know. But we can't. We've got to stay awake." He looked up at the stars. "Look at the stars, Harry. I've never seen so many stars." Harry looked up with him. "Yeah, they are pretty amazing. When I was a kid, my dad and I used to sit and watch the stars for hours. He taught me all the constellations and how to use them to find directions. I can still identify all of them. And I can still pick out the North star." He looked over at Dale. "Your dad ever do that with you?" "Sometimes. Dad was fascinated by the moon more than the stars. He spent hours watching the moon through his telescope. When Armstrong landed on the moon, it really affected him. After Mom died, Dad would just sit out in the back yard and sketch what he saw in that telescope all night long." He paused. "Did I ever tell you my dad discovered a crater on the moon that no one else had ever found?" "No. Really?" "Yeah. It was in early 1970. Dad was looking at the edge of the dark side of the moon and suddenly saw a shadow he hadn't seen there the day before--and hadn't seen on any other moon map. He sketched its position and sent the sketch to NASA. NASA confirmed his findings. Today, the southernmost crater at the new moon edge of the dark side is called Cooper's Crater." Harry smiled. "Now that's something to tell your kids." "Yeah." Dale leaned back against the tree and looked up at the night sky. The diamond-like points of light twinkled brilliantly. He remembered one of his first dates with Audrey, spent sitting by White Tail Falls, listening to the roar of the water and watching the bright stars on a clear April night. They'd talked for hours, saying that familiar childhood rhyme about wishing on the first stars of the night as they made wishes about the future...a future of the two of them together. He'd held her in his arms, observing the natural light show and feeling their love for each other filling both of their hearts to overflowing. The memory sent a pleasant warmth through him. He found himself longing to hold Audrey again...to see the beauty of her face...to bask in the glow of her loving smile...to feel the silky smoothness of her skin...the luscious softness of her lips...the growing roundness of her pregnant belly...the intense fire of their passion... The stars seemed to spin around him, drawing him inextricably toward them. The night seemed to surround him in a cocoon of starlight as his mind drifted farther and farther from the desperation of his plight into a kind of peaceful placidity. Diane and Audrey waited in the lobby of the Sheriff's Station with Lucy, anxiously awaiting the return of their respective husbands. Lucy was rocking baby Aaron quietly, trying to keep fear from transferring from her to her child. Diane was leaning back on the couch, her eyes closed, trying to keep her mind clear and open. Audrey was standing by the glass doors, looking out at the clear night sky. "Star light, star bright," Audrey said in a sing-song whispery voice, "first star I see tonight...I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight." She sighed hard, remembering all those wishes she and Dale had made under the stars when they were dating. They all seemed so far away now. "I wish my husband would come home," she said. "I just want to be able to tell him I love him." "He loves you, too," Diane whispered oddly. Audrey looked at Diane. "What did you say?" Diane blinked suddenly. "What?" she asked. "You said, `He loves you, too.' Are you just trying to reassure me? Or did you hear that?" Diane looked at her sister-in-law, confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, the confusion cleared. "I felt it," she realized. "He's trying to reach out." Lucy looked confused. "How?" she asked. "Never mind how," Audrey interrupted. "Can you reach back?" "I'll try," Diane replied. She leaned back against the arm of the couch once more and closed her eyes again. She and Dale had discussed his visit to the dream realm and his confrontation with the spirit Morpheus for hours after he had freed the two women in his life from a series of terrifying nightmares. Those nightmares had been caused by Morpheus in an attempt to frighten her and Audrey about the power of "special dreaming"--and to transfer that fear to their unborn children to keep them from using the power that would be their birthright. Morpheus' statements about the amount of power he knew the Cooper twins possessed had both unnerved and intrigued her. She had always known how strong Dale's dreaming ability was; to learn hers was equally strong was a surprise to her. Both had agreed to keep Morpheus' proclamation a secret until they could discover the validity of his words for themselves. So, they had quietly--just before falling asleep at night, and just after waking up in the morning--been trying to expand their own limits on their psychic abilities, concentrating on reaching out for each other through their symbiotic bond. And so far, the experiments were showing some positive results. Their dreams often touched and ran in unison through the night, more now than ever before. And they had just recently begun to sense each other's thoughts early in the morning, before their conscious minds could take control. It was that aspect that Diane was now trying to invoke, that sense of a shared consciousness that existed for a few brief moments while their mental barriers were still relaxed. It was a sensation she had felt in the latter stages of Dale's battle with that mind-enhancing chemical he was exposed to several months back, when they could carry on entire conversations through thought patterns. It was a sensation that they could never consciously recreate afterwards...but which seemed to creep through their bond when their mutual empathy was especially highly charged. And it was certainly highly charged now. She closed her eyes and reached out mentally. Dale, she thought, I know you're trying to reach out. I can feel you. But I can't HEAR you. Help me reach you. Nothing. Only silence filled her mind. Dammit, she thought, I can almost TOUCH you, the empathy's so strong. Why can't I HEAR you? No answer. She pounded her fist on the couch. "Nothing," she said out loud. "I can't reach him." Audrey stamped her foot. "This is frustrating," she said. "There's got to be a way to get through and find out what's happened to them." "Maybe you could go to sleep," Lucy suggested. Diane looked at her oddly. Lucy looked back at her, her expression showing an earnest desire to help. "Well," she continued, "it works for Agent Cooper. He usually has a dream that helps him solve the case." Audrey looked at Diane. "She's right," she commented. "Dale's best intuition comes early in the morning, right after he wakes up." "Or when his mind is completely relaxed and open," Diane noted, "like it is when he meditates." She leaned back again. You're concentrating too hard, Diane, she scolded herself. Let the bond do the work. A strong sender needs a strong receiver. Relax and let your mind go. She began to breathe slowly, rhythmically. Even her ever-wiggling twins lay still and quiet as her body began to relax, as if they could sense Mama's need to let go. Thoughts of Harry filled her mind...his boyish grin...his gentle touch...his soothing voice...his passionate kisses... The room seemed to slip away around her. She felt as if she were floating in a sea of calm... Diane. Dale's voice echoed softly through her head, as if across a large lake on a clear, quiet night. Dale, she called back mentally. I hear you, my sister. And I hear you. Are you all right? Very dizzy...very sore. But I'll live. Harry is in worse shape. Talk to me, Dale. He's got a concussion...a bad scalp wound...a sprained left ankle. He needs help. What did you hit? An unfortunate deer. Harry tried to swerve, but it was no use...we collided head-on with it and rolled the truck over. Where are you? Canadian side of Black Lake...roughly twenty miles from the U.S. border, heading west. Hiding in the woods. From what? Drug runners. We were spying on a buy, hoping to follow the courier back across the border and make an arrest. Unfortunately, we got caught. What about the others? We split into three pairs...Andy and Ed, Hawk and Joey Paulson, Harry and me. As far as I know, the others got away. Diane thought quickly. I don't know how long we'll be able to keep this mental channel open, she spoke telepathically. Can you see any landmarks that would help a search party find you? There was a moment's hesitation before a reply came. I'm afraid to open my eyes, Dale said. I don't want to break this link by becoming too conscious. Then let someone else be your eyes. Ask Harry for help. I'll try. The link may break by my becoming conscious enough to ask him. Don't think like that. Keep your mind clear and focused on our bond. Don't concentrate too hard or the link WILL break. Our bond will keep our minds joined if we don't try to force it. Remember that. All right. Wait a minute. "Harry." Harry jolted out of the semi-sleep he had fallen into ever since Dale had stopped talking to him. The sudden motion made him both dizzy and sore simultaneously. "Oh-h-h," he moaned. "Coop? What is it?" "Harry," Dale said in a monotone, "I've reached Diane." "Thank God," Harry sighed with relief. "Tell her to send someone out here quick." "She needs to know where." Harry almost laughed. "How the Hell should I know where we are?" "Harry, time is short. I can't guarantee how long I can keep this link open. Be my eyes, Harry. Look around and tell me where we are." Harry looked around. "We're in the woods, north of Black Lake, twenty miles around the west side of the lake from the U.S. border." "I already know that. Tell me something more." "There isn't any more." "Look overhead, Harry. What's in the sky?" Harry looked up. The act made his head spin. He tried to concentrate on the sky and force it to clear. "It looks like we're right under the North Star," he finally said. "Are you sure?" "Positive. That's the one star my daddy always told me to find first." "Thanks." He focused his mind on Diane again. Diane, can you still hear me? Yes, came her reply. All right. Harry says the North Star is directly overhead. It's not much to go on, but it's the only recognizable landmark--or, in this case, star mark. You're right--that isn't much. But at least it's something. I'll send someone up there as soon as one of the others gets back. Diane...tell Audrey I love her. I know you do. Tell Harry I love him. I know you do. I can feel it...like I'm sure you can feel my love for Audrey. It was how I knew you'd begun to reach out. She paused. I love you, my brother. I love you, my sister. Two souls... ...joined into one life... ...sharing hearts, minds, and destinies, they finished in unison. The sound of an approaching vehicle shattered the quiet of the night. Dale felt the link break abruptly as his mind snapped back to attentiveness. "They're back," Harry whispered. "Sh-h-h," Dale replied softly. "Don't move. Maybe they won't find us." They both lay still. The sound of footsteps and muffled voices rippled through the clear, quiet night...soon joined by the low growl of dogs. "Oh, God," Harry whispered. "Dogs. They'll find us." "We"ve got to move," Dale decided. "Try to stand up." Harry fought the pain and tried to stand up, pulling on the trunk of the tree for support. He held onto the trunk with both hands as he attempted to put his left leg down. Nothing. His ankle had gone numb. He barely knew it was down there. "Can you make it?" Dale asked. "With a little help," Harry replied. "Lean on me," Dale offered his right shoulder as a brace. Harry draped his left arm across Dale's shoulders, then leaned against him. "Let's go," he whispered. The two men moved off into the night with a series of hop-steps, heading into the depths of the dark woods. Audrey peered out the glass doors of the Sheriff's Station, searching for some sign of her husband. "Someone's coming," she said excitedly. Diane opened her eyes and slowly sat up. Her babies protested the interruption of their rest, wiggling violently inside her. She rubbed the bulge gently. "It's all right, babies," she said. "We're going to find Daddy and Uncle Dale. Stay calm." She looked over at Audrey. "Who's there?" "I can't tell," she replied. "It's a motorcycle." "Joey Paulson's," Lucy said, getting up to join her. "That means Hawk's with him," Diane said. "Good. Maybe we can send some help Dale's way." "What about Andy?" Lucy asked. "Dale says he's with Big Ed, and he thinks he got away safely." "There's a jeep coming," Audrey observed. "Ed," Lucy said. The three ladies watched as the four men met in the parking lot and looked around, as if seeking evidence of their missing comrades. Lucy opened the door and leaned outside. "Hawk! Andy!" she called. "Get in here quick--the Sheriff and Agent Cooper are in trouble!" The four Book House Boys immediately hurried inside. Lucy stepped aside and let them through. "Andy--are you all right?" she asked. "Fine, snookums," Andy replied. "The baby'll get cold if you stand out here much longer." Lucy snuggled Aaron close to her chest and let the door shut behind her as she came inside to join the group. "What happened?" she asked. "Stakeout went wrong," Hawk said. "A rottweiler tried to make an entree out of Joey. Where's Harry and Cooper?" "They had an accident on the way back," Diane said. "They're still on the other side of the border." "Jeez," Joey said, shaking his head. "They're in trouble. Those guys meant business. They had some heavy-duty arms." "Where exactly are they?" Hawk asked. "They're not sure," Diane replied. "There's no real landmarks they can use to identify where they are--except for the fact that the North Star's directly overhead." Hawk turned to Lucy. "Lucy, get Harry on the radio," he ordered. "Tell him we're on our way." "They don't answer their radio," Lucy complained. Ed looked confused. "Then how does she know what happened?" he asked, indicating Diane. Hawk looked at Diane oddly, his eyes showing an understanding of what was obviously happening. "You know where they are," he said. "Not really," she replied. "But I can find them." Hawk thought it over. "Harry'll kill me if I take you. But I don't actually have a choice. Let's go." "Wait a minute," Joey said. "If they're trapped on the other side, those guys will be expecting us to send help. They'll have that road guarded. You'll be walking into an ambush." "He's right," Ed said. "There's no way you can get up there." "Not by land," Audrey said thoughtfully. Hawk looked at her. "You have another idea?" he asked. "The AUDREY ROSE...Daddy's boat." "A yacht?" "Please. Yachts aren't exactly subtle...and Daddy was nothing if not subtle about his jaunts to One Eyed Jack's. It's a speedboat, docked at the Black Lake Marina." "Can you get your father to loan it to us?" Audrey reached for her purse. "I don't have to," she said, producing her key ring. "I've got the keys." Hawk thought quickly, then turned to Lucy. "Stick by the radio," he ordered. "Audrey...Diane...let's go." Hop-step. Hop-step. Hop-step. Harry had no idea how long they'd been moving. The trail seemed endless. His head was spinning and his entire body ached. But they had to keep going. The pursuing drug dealers would catch them if they didn't. Dale forced his feet forward. Harry's weight was beginning to get heavy on his right shoulder, and his broken ribs protested by sending waves of pain through his body. The disorienting sameness of the dark woods didn't help him keep his bearings as he fought dizziness. But he couldn't stop. If the drug dealers didn't get them, the cold night air and exhaustion would. He kept moving, helping Harry move forward as he did. "Are we still moving along the lake?" Harry asked. Dale glanced to his left. He could still see a slight shimmer of moonlight off the lake's surface twinkling through the trees. "Looks like it," he replied. "As long as we keep it to our left, we won't get lost." "Can you still hear Diane?" "No. I lost her when our friends returned and distracted me." "How is she going to get help to us?" "I don't know. We've just got to hope she can." He paused. "And that there's something of us to find." Something crashed into Dale from behind, toppling them to the ground. It didn't take Harry long to figure out what had tackled them. An angry, unleashed rottweiler had his jaws firmly clamped onto Dale's right arm. Dale was screaming in pain. Harry quickly crawled over to Dale's left and grabbed the shotgun he had dropped. He started to aim it at the dog, then realized he was too disoriented to fire the gun accurately. Instead, he swung the shotgun at the dog's back and hit it hard. The dog refused to break its grip. Harry swung again, this time striking the dog in the head. That got the rottweiler's attention. He released Dale's arm and lunged for Harry, tackling him to the ground. A shot rang out through the night. The rottweiler yelped in pain and limped away into the woods, bleeding from a shoulder injury. Harry and Dale looked toward the sound of the shot. Hawk came out of the darkness and over to them. "You two sure know how to attract attention," he wisecracked. "Hawk," Harry said, his voice relieved. "Let's get out of here," Hawk replied. "If your screaming didn't get their attention, that gunshot will." Dale fought the pain and got to his feet, then moved over to help Hawk assist Harry. "I've got him," Hawk reassured. "Head for the lake." Dale did, clutching his arm. Hawk joined him, helping Harry move along. The three men burst out of the woods and reached the lake road. Dale began looking around for a vehicle. "Cooper--this way," Hawk urged, heading directly for the lake. It was then that Dale spotted the boat. He quickly followed Hawk to the water's edge. "Help me balance Harry," Hawk said. Dale hurried over and supported Harry's right side this time. Together, the three men waded into the freezing waters toward the speedboat. Diane suddenly sat up in the back of the boat. "Diane?" Dale said, his tone and expression simultaneously confused, angry, and relieved. "Help me lift him," Hawk ordered. Dale helped Hawk float Harry's weight upward toward the ladder attached to the boat's side. Diane reached for her husband and helped pull him into the boat, then offered a hand to Dale. Hawk gave Dale an assist to the ladder, and the Special Agent quickly climbed in and joined his sister, then reached back and offered Hawk a hand. "I've got it," Hawk said, climbing in. "Hit it, Audrey!" Audrey suddenly sat up from her hiding place and started the ignition, then hit the throttle of the boat. The speedboat roared away from the edge of the lake as shots rang out in the night from the shore. Hawk quickly moved up to the front seat. "I'll take it, Audrey," he offered, taking the steering wheel. Audrey vacated the driver's seat and moved into the seat next to it. "Get situated, Audrey," Hawk cautioned. "Rough ride ahead." The boat jolted suddenly as it smashed through a thin patch of ice as if to punctuate his int. Audrey gripped the boat's dashboard for a moment, then relaxed slightly and reached underneath the seat to produce a stack of thin cotton blankets. "Here," she said, passing two of them behind her. "Wrap yourselves up in these--it'll keep you from freezing to death." "Thanks," Diane said, handing one to Dale and wrapping Harry up with the other one. Dale wrapped the blanket around him, then looked from his wife to his sister and back again. "Are you two insane?" he asked. "You could have been killed!" "Grateful, isn't he?" Diane said. "I'd really be angry if I wasn't so happy to see you," he retorted. Audrey reached for Dale and suddenly noticed the bloody tear on his coat. "What happened?" she asked, gently touching the wound. "Dog bite," Dale replied, taking her hand off his arm. "I'm fine." He turned to Diane. "It's Harry I'm worried about." "Just a bump," Harry mumbled. "No big deal." Diane looked at Harry closely. "Nasty piece of work," she said, stroking the cut on his forehead with her finger. "How do you really feel?" "Like I've been run over by a truck," he confessed. Diane held him close. "Lean on me," she said. "We'll be home soon." Hawk looked in the side mirror of the boat. "Not if we don't outrun this company," he said ominously. Dale, Diane, and Audrey looked back and spotted the speedboat behind them, full of the same well-armed pursuers who had trailed them on land. "Gun it, Hawk," Dale ordered. "Already got the throttle up full," Hawk replied. "This lake's tricky--lots of shallow spots and hidden hazards--not to mention the occasional patch of thin ice." He grabbed the radio microphone. "Hawk to Base," he said into the microphone. "Come in, Lucy--over." "This is Lucy," came the reply. "Go ahead, Hawk--over." "Rescue mission successful. We're going to need some help at Black Lake Marina in a few minutes." "Already on its way." "Good. Hawk out." "What kind of help?" Dale asked. "You'll see," Hawk replied. Shots began sounding around them once more, several of them passing too close for comfort. Diane quickly pulled Harry down into her lap--or what remained of it, as his head rested against the round abdomen that took up most of her lap. Harry smiled slightly. "They like the ride," he commented. "They're really moving around in there." Then, he winced slightly. "Hey!" he declared to her tummy. "Don't kick your daddy!" Diane couldn't help it. She started laughing. Dale smiled and reached forward for Audrey, gently placing his left hand on her shoulder. She reached up and took his hand off her shoulder, then kissed it lovingly and sensuously. Dale smiled at the kisses. "I'd have been better off taking your offer earlier," he commented. "That'll teach you," Audrey responded. Another round of gunfire blasted around them. Everyone winced and ducked once more. "Hang on!" Hawk ordered, suddenly swerving the boat hard starboard. The AUDREY ROSE executed a reasonably tight left-hand turn. The drug runners' boat followed suit. Audrey looked up and spotted the marina getting very close very fast. "Hawk--look out!" she declared. "I see it," he answered, maintaining course. "But don't you want to..." "No." He continued racing toward the docks. Dale looked behind him. "They're closing," he reported. "Good," Hawk replied. The marina loomed large in front of them. Audrey screamed. Hawk suddenly killed the engine and steered into an empty slip near the marina's entrance, letting the boat bump the edge of the dock. The opposing speedboat tore past them and nearly smashed into the concrete launch ramp before drifting to its own stop as the driver killed the boat's engine. Suddenly, spotlights snapped on and completely lit the marina. The drug runners looked around. Standing on the shore were dozens of local, state, and Federal law enforcement officers, all with guns trained toward the four drug runners. "This is Special Agent Rex Caliph of the F.B.I.," came a voice over a megaphone. "You are completely surrounded. Throw your weapons in front of the boat and put your hands up." The four men in the boat looked around for a moment, then threw their weapons toward the shore and raised their hands in surrender. "Very good," Rex continued. "Oh, and gentlemen...welcome to the United States." The next morning, Diane and Audrey arrived at Calhoun Memorial Hospital and headed into a semi-private room occupied by two special patients. Dale and Harry both lay sulking in their respective beds as their wives entered the room. "Look at this," Audrey said, indicating the unhappy brothers-in-law. "Trouble in paradise," Diane agreed. "He broke the TV remote," Harry said sullenly. "I did not," Dale protested. "It's not my fault hospital coffee is really black battery acid. Besides, the cup was already leaking when I picked it up. I didn't spill it." "You two make the absolute worst patients," Audrey commented, pulling up chairs for herself and Diane. "Agreed," Diane remarked, taking a seat next to Harry's bed as Audrey took a seat next to Dale's. "You two should be celebrating. You helped collar a major new drug ring." "What's the latest on our drug runners?" Harry asked. "Sitting in the Federal pen, singing their hearts out to the D.E.A. The Canadian government's sent Mounties down to listen in." "Which reminds me," Dale said, the memory of his suspension due to the antics of a Canadian drug lord and a crooked Mountie still fresh in his mind, "what does Internal Affairs have to say about this whole mess?" "Well, Rex isn't terribly happy with you...or me, for that matter, since I'm technically not even supposed to be out in the field. But since we were out there as private citizens--and our suspects voluntarily entered the U.S.--there'll be no charges filed. You're safe for now, Agent Cooper." "Thank God. Now...when do we get out of here?" "Well," Audrey said, "Doc Hayward said that if you two were good boys, he might consider letting you go home later today. Of course, if you lie here pouting..." Dale looked over at Harry. "Sorry I spilled the coffee," Dale said. "Forget it," Harry replied. "Nothing on TV worth watching anyway." "That's more like it," Diane commented with a smile. Harry looked at his wife. "So tell me," he said, "how did you two manage to find us?" Diane and Audrey looked at each other. "We wished on a star," Diane replied mischievously. All of them laughed as they recited the childhood rhyme in unison: Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight... I wish I may, I wish I might Have the wish I wish tonight. T H E E N D ****** ** The Almost, Absolutely, Positively, Ultimate KAOS Kaper A GET SMART Short Story By D. Lynn Bivens C O N C L U S I O N "...So the old Chief calls Maxwell Smart, our NEW Chief, on the bedpan phone from the CONTROL Retirement Home to tell him about a new plot KAOS has hatched." "Larrabee, what are you doing?" "Oh, hi, Chief. I was just telling the people tuning in what's happened up until now." "Larrabee, this isn't TV, it's a FANZINE! People can't tune in to see us...they can only read about us!" "Oh. In that case, I guess there's no need for me to tell you about your pants being unzipped, huh?" "What?! Oh, uh, excuse me a moment, folks. Uh, I'll just turn around and..." *Zzzzip...* "Uh, Chief?" "Yes, Larrabee?" "This is a fanzine, remember? They can't see you." "I KNOW that, Larrabee, but even on the printed page, the Chief of CONTROL can't go around with his fly open!" "Are you SURE you didn't win your promotion in a lottery?" When last we left Thaddeus, the ex-Chief of CONTROL, he was strapped to a metal table in a converted operating room with Siegfried, Starker and a motley collection of KAOS thugs posing as orderlies--not that there is much of a difference in intelligence--about to commence the implementation of their brainwashing techniques. "All right, Thaddeus," Siegfried screeched in his typically maniacal manner, "are you ready to haff your vill stripped from you und your brain enslaved by zhe forces of KAOS?" "I don't suppose a 'no' would be accepted at this point, would it?" Thaddeus moaned with a curious scowl screwed onto his wrinkled face. "Nein!" Siegfried railed, as the scar running down one cheek twitched with a tic usually associated with a true lunatic. "Zhis iss not a multiple-choice qvestion!" "Well," the ex-Chief sighed in exasperation, "in that case, do your worst, Siegfried." "My dear Thaddeus, zhat iss vhat I do best." Then, barking orders in German too fast for the ex-Chief to follow, Siegfried had his henchmen literally falling over one another in order to prime the machines to be used in the reconditioning of a mind trained to keep its secrets. "This is the '90s, Siegfried," Thaddeus frustratedly pointed out as the comical choreography continued. "Don't you have a single switch you can just...snap, click, brrrr here?" "Chief, zhis iss KAOS," chastised Siegfried with a stupid expression. "Ve don't snap, click, or brrrr here!" "Oh. Sorry." "Zhe electrodes are charged, Mein Leader!" the pith-helmeted Starker said excitedly while assuming a stance of attention. "Zhe tranzformers are hot, zhe resistors are at full capacity, und zhe power-flux dampeners are activated." "Um-hmm," hummed the megalomaniac in charge of the operation, "but did you plug it in?" Starker's posture slumped from shame as Siegfried realized his idiotic right-hand man had screwed up again. "Shtarker!" "Tell you what, Siegfried," said Thaddeus through a yawn. "I'm gonna take a little nap. Wake me when you're ready to start brainwashing." "Now you zee vhat you haff done, Shtarker?" shouted Siegfried as the ex-Chief slipped into a snoring slumber. "You've put our helpless victim to shleep! Dummkopf!" Blrrrt-blrrrt... "Hello," gurgled Max after answering yet another super-secret telephone installed in his smaller-than-before office. "Maxwell Smart, Chief of CONTROL, speaking." "Max?" a painfully familiar voice asked in Smart's wet ear. "99?" he gurgled again with a mixture of surprise and distress. "What's wrong? Has something happened to the twins, 89 and 98? Has King Charles tossed you out of the castle? Are you reversing these charges?" "No, Max," his ex-wife and ex-agent of CONTROL said, heaving a sigh. "Everything's fine. And I'm paying for this international call. You forget, Charles has a long distance calling plan from every carrier." "Yes, but does he have an original Mickey Mouse table phone in his bedroom?" Max asked with a stupid smirk as if coming up with something significant to top the lookalike royal who had stolen his wife of many years. "By the way, Max, why do you sound so strange?" 99 asked while shifting the tone of the stranger-than-usual conversation with the idiot she actually loved before Charles swept her away. "You sound as if you're under water." "I am," he replied with an elongated burble. "I'm using our new aquarium-phone. The water's not nearly as difficult as the fish." "Uh-h...okay," 99 answered slowly, as if to dismiss the entire subject. "Anyway, I was just calling to ask about this month's alimony. It's late again." "Oh," Max said shortly. "Well, I sent it by way of CONTROL's own super-secret, ultra-fast, international mail express plane yesterday..." "So," finished 99 almost sarcastically, "that would mean I should get it sometime in the next three months, right?" "If the weather holds," Max smartly answered, then paused a few seconds and curiously asked, "By the way, 99, seeing as how you've been remarried to King Charles for years, and he's reportedly worth billions...how come I'm still sending you alimony?" "Because we agreed to settle out of court in order to prevent the judge from knowing you were a CONTROL agent." "But," Max stupidly stated through the water in his aquarium-phone, "they knew anyway!" "I know, Max," 99 replied with an amused smirk apparent in her voice. "But the money does help pay for some essentials...such as postage stamps in case I want to send three or four letters. Locally, of course." "That reminds me, 99," Max remembered and haltingly admitted. "CONTROL's budget's been cut again, so you're alimony's coming Postage Due." 99 heaved a heavy sigh and said, "Same old Max." After the connection clicked to an end, Max closed the top of the tiny treasure chest nestled in the bottom of the aquarium-phone, deactivating it. Then, he pulled his head, dripping wet, from the tank, took out the special micro-miniature oxygen conversion noseplugs and mouthpiece--flexibly designed to make speech possible--and shouted to his imbecilic assistant just beyond a too-thin sliding wall-door: "Larrabee! How about changing the water in the aquarium-phone once in a while!" "May I help you?" the thug wearing an orderly's outfit--and speaking with a slightly discernible German accent--asked the strangely-garbed man seeking admittance into the Retirement Home. "Yeah, sure," stammered Agent 707 as he animatedly attempted to bluff his way into a CONTROL facility swarming with KAOS agents. "My name's George Bush, and I've come all this way to see my dear old uncle, Ronnie. He's not dead yet, is he?" "You're George Bush?" "That's me!" "The former President of the United States?" "You got it." "Strange," the thug posing as an orderly droned. "You don't look like the former President." Without missing a beat, 707 launched into a verbal song-and-dance designed to convince an enemy agent he was who he claimed to be. All it really did was convince the enemy agent he was dealing with an utter cretin, the likes of which had not been seen since the secret number of 86 had happily been retired. 621 numbers had managed to be assigned to sane, relatively intelligent men and women--by governmental standards, which are understandably low in order not to endanger the jobs of Congressional representatives--who served with distinction...except for that Ames dude from the CIA. Then came 707: The product of a trickle-down economic experiment during the 80's that sort of trickled all over CONTROL. Eeeewww... "Uh, well..." the idiot dressed in the incredibly loud Hawaiian shirt and oversized Bermuda shorts snorted, "you know how those people on TV look with their lights and filtered lenses and make-up?" "No," the thug flatly replied with huge arms folded across an even larger chest while glaring unblinkingly at 707. "Uh, well, like I was saying...I've come to see my Uncle Ronnie and make sure his Alzheimer's hasn't made him forget to include me in his will. Barbara would never forgive me if that happened!" After quickly looking about, 707 leaned close and added in a whisper, "She's a real brute when she's pissed, ya know." "Vhere are your Secret Service men?" the thug asked suspiciously. "Uh..." 707 hemmed as he struggled stupidly for an answer, "I left 'em at the airport. Yeah, that's what happened. I left 'em at the airport, because, uh, because the guns they were carrying kept setting off metal detectors. So...so I had to leave them, because, uh, because it'd take too long to get rid of all those weapons and retrieve them after clearing the detectors. Yeah, that's where they are: stripping off all that hardware while I'm visiting my Uncle Ronnie. By the time I get back, they should just about be finished." "Vhat about your I.D.?" "M-my I.D.?" parroted the moronic agent as his face twisted into a comical mask of perplexity while desperately searching for some sort of answer. "Oh, my I.D.! I, uh, left it in my other pants. Yeah, I didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention, what with having to leave the Secret Service guys behind." "I see," the thug said as he allowed his beady eyes to examine the outlandish outfit at length. "Well, then," huffed 707 as if all was settled, "nice talking to you. I'll make sure to put a good word in for you at the White House. I hear some of them may have need of an orderly or two..." With that, 707, his nose hoisted with self-importance into the air, strutted past the puzzled "orderly" as the thug scratched his head. Just as 707--alias "George Bush"--proceeded down the first hallway leading away from the lobby, his nose still positioned in an upward direction, another orderly pushing a food tray cart entered from a side door. Neither person saw the other until... CRASH! 707 knocked over the cart, spilling food, breaking dishes and knocking the orderly to the floor. The messy scene was straight out of an old Laurel and Hardy film. "Oops," 707 said as he attempted to get to his feet while dishes of food fell from his soiled shirt and shorts. "My fault entirely. I'm used to having Secret Service guys walking ahead of me to keep me from bumping into stuff." As several orderlies, patients and visitors gathered to gawk in incredulity at the ridiculous occurrence, 707 showed further evidence of his ineptitude by clumsily attempting to assist the fallen orderly back to his feet. "Here, I'll give you a hand." Crash...THUD. "Oops. Sorry. Let me get that off your head." Ssslip...CRASH...tha-dump. "Ow, bet that hurt, huh?" THUNK! "Uh...ooh...is there a doctor handy?!" "Eff'rythink ez in readiness, mein Leader!" Starker screamed as he snapped to attention inches from the right ear of Siegfried, whose flinching reaction easily demonstrated the discomfort felt at such an unthinking act by his less-than-thoughtful henchman of many years. "Shtarker," the mustachioed neo-Nazi said softly as he wiggled a finger in a gesture for the pith-helmeted idiot to lean closer, "ve are KAOS agents. Ve don't SHCREAM in our Leader'ss ear here!" Starker's reaction was even more comically expressive than Siegfried's own, as he slowly straightened while screwing the end of a forefinger into his ear as if attempting to restore a sudden loss of auditory perception. Frankly, he was deaf as a tree for several seconds. "Hass zhe device been plugged in zhis time, Shtarker?" Starker contorted his already moronic face into a mask of puzzlement as he looked at Siegfried and asked simply, "Vhat?" "Never mind, Shtarker," Siegfried growled through tightly-clenched teeth while rolling his eyes. "Chust svitch it on!" "Look, Siegfried," the ex-Chief of CONTROL said as he squirmed beneath his restraints, "I hope this isn't going to take long. My bladder control's not what it used to be." "Tie a knot in it, Thaddeus!" Siegfried exclaimed loudly as his humorously smirking face stared down into the ex-Chief's own. "I happen to know zhat you haff a Depends unsergarment on! So keep your veak attempts to ezcape to yourzelf!" "Uh," thought the ex-Chief in desperation for some other equally effective plan, "did I tell you about my bowel problems?" "By zhe time ve get finished vith you," Siegfried snarled sadistically while leaning close and patting Thaddeus' electrode-laden forehead, "you von't know schitt from Shinola! Heh heh heh heh heh..." Just then, Starker figured out which switch was the correct one and tripped it with the enthusiasm of a small child. "Arg! Shtarrrrkerrrr!" No sooner had the pith-helmeted henchman turned than he saw his leader being mildly electrocuted from touching the exposed wires running to one of the electrodes attached to the furrowed forehead of the ex-Chief of CONTROL. Starker's moronic reaction and clumsy attempts to deactivate the system only complicated the otherwise simple situation. "Ach, no! Mein Leader eez beink barbecued! Like a big fat piece uff hamburger! I've got to zave him!" Hitting all the wrong switches and dials, Starker actually increased the voltage assaulting his boss. "Shtarker, you dumkopf!" Siegfried spat as static charges danced about his body and made his clenched teeth chatter. "You're makink things vorse!" Thaddeus, completely unaffected by it all, knitted his aging brow and puzzled, "It's been a long time since I've been tortured, Siegfried, and I quite honestly haven't kept up with all the newest techniques...so is this supposed to somehow bother me?" "Be qviet, Thaddeus!" Siegfried stammered as his eyes almost seemed to bulge during his jerky responses to so much electricity passing through his person. "Or I'll send for a near-zighted proctologist vith big fingerss!" As Thaddeus scowled at the unpleasant thought of such an examination, Starker, out of frustration borne of his utter lack of intelligence, finally followed the machine's round wire to the outlet into which it was plugged and jerked it out. Almost immediately, the shower of sparks cascading off Siegfried ceased, as did his uncontrollable twitching. Unfortunately, his gray hair now stuck out on all sides, as if he had spent the last several hours getting a make-over from The Don King School of Hairstyling. Starker rushed to his Supreme Leader's side just as Siegfried had removed his hand from the ex-Chief's head and turned toward his henchman, who happily held the plug in his hand. "You are zafe now, mein imperious fhrer to be," Starker stupidly exclaimed with a broad grin adorning his moronic features. "I haff pulled zhe plug!" Visibly shaking with churning rage, Siegfried attempted to feign gratitude as he slowly took the plug and attached wire in his own hands. "Oh, tank you zo much, Shtarker. Let me zee zhis for a moment, von't you?" Then he immediately looped it about Starker's neck and commenced strangling him. "You shtupit idiot! You almost killed me, do you know zhat, Shtarker?" "Mein Leader," gasped a stupidly bug-eyed Starker as Siegfried shook him forcefully while still strangling him with the cord, "I--I cannot breazhe!" "Zhat's zhe general idea, dumkopf! I should haff done zhis years ago!" "Uh, I hate to interrupt you murdering somebody, Siegfried," the ex-Chief apologetically stated, "but if this is a bad time for your brainwashing scheme, we could do it another time." "You vould like zhat, vouldn't you, Thaddeus?" Siegfried suddenly exclaimed as he released Starker--who staggered and gasped for air with a contorted countenance--and spun toward the ex-chief. "Vell, it von't be qvite so eazy, Mr. Shmarty-Pantz!" "You can't blame a brainwashing candidate for trying, can you?" "Shtarker!" the wild-haired Siegfried shouted to his henchman--who was still stumbling around trying to regain his composure, such as it was. "Plug in zhe machine, und zhis time, don't shcrew it up!" "Y-yes, Mein Leader," coughed Starker. He picked up the dropped plug and staggered back toward the machine which was making so much trouble for him these past several minutes. "Listen, Siegfried, I was just wondering," Thaddeus asked curiously of his sadistic host, "seeing how totally incompetent and idiotic Starker seems to be, why does KAOS keep him around?" "Becauss," Siegfried snarled in a hushed aside--being careful not to touch the electrodes on Thaddeus' head again--"he ez zhe only vun vith a falid driver's lizenz. Vhy does CONTROL keep Maxshvell Shmart around?" "He owes us money." Grimacing a little while nodding in understanding of Thaddeus' meaning, Siegfried surmised, "At zhe pay leffel of a gofernment employee, he should haff it paid back in anozher, oh, fifty years, eh?" "And that's just the interest," Thaddeus added as an afterthought. Siegfried did a double-take and shot an astonished stare toward the ex-Chief. "Zhe machine iss plugged in, mein compazzionate Commandant!" Starker excitedly exclaimed as he snapped to attention at his superior officer's side. "Und may I say, your hair iss much more becomink like zhat!" "Oh, you really zhink zo, Shtarker?" Siegfried earnestly but effeminately asked as he primped in an affectation of pride. "You don't zhink it'z too much?" "Oh, zertainly not, Herr Siegfried," Starker almost lisped as he moved his hands about effeminately. "It abzolutely brings out zhe highlitz of your clazzically handzome faze." "Come now, Shtarker, you are beink too kind." "Nein, nein...really!" "If you frauleins want to take a break to freshen up," Thaddeus interrupted sarcastically, "I'll just wait back in my room until you're ready." Suddenly realizing how ridiculous the two of them had been acting, Siegfried snapped angrily, "Shtarker! Don't make me haff to get mein ridink vhip!" Starker cowered at the thought like a disobedient dog who had just displeased his master, as Siegfried leaned closer and hissed, "How many times haff I told you, not in front of zhe torture victims!" "Jawohl, Mein lovely-- er, Mein Leader," Starker quietly and obediently responded in a similarly hushed voice, his expression a mask of overblown shame. "Ve'll talk about zhis later," Siegfried said somewhat soothingly and then added almost suggestively, "over zome shtrawberry daiquiris perhapz..." Starker smiled, making his expression even sillier, and started to speak in reply. "Shh!" Siegfried hushed him, glancing back at the ex-Chief. "Torture first." Starker nodded childishly, as Siegfried swiftly turned to the others and growled orders in German. The henchmen hastily responded by throwing controls and switches which promptly prodded the oversized machine to luminous life. Simultaneously, Siegfried's foot depressed a pedal on the floor which activated a motor steadily tilting the entire table on which the ex-Chief lay into a semi-upright position. Thaddeus' eyes grew wide with unreasoning fear of what was to come next. "Und now, ex-Chief of CONTROL," Siegfried snarled sadistically while glaring at the trembling Thaddeus, "it iz time for zhe torture vhich zhall break your mind und make you a shlave of KAOS!" With a sharp gesture of one hand, Siegfried signalled his men to activate one more machine that was integral to his dastardly plan: a movie projector. On one wall of the converted operating room, the horrific images began to emerge along with mind-bending sounds: "Here's the story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls..." "No...n-o-o-o!" screamed the ex-Chief as his monitored mind was already beginning to weaken. "It's the story of a man named Brady..." "Please, God, stop, STOP! It's inhuman!" But Siegfried and Starker only laughed as the torture continued and Thaddeus' screams rose in pitch to express his sheer terror. No man should be forced to endure such punishment. "Arrggg!" 707 instantly reacted to the reverberating screeches of inhuman torment that filtered through the corridors of the retirement home from within the closed doors of the operating room. "Oh, my God, the ex-Chief! They've started their torture!" 707 exclaimed to himself as he moved jerkily about in Don Knotts/Barney Fife fashion. "I've gotta do something! They're gonna kill him! Or worse...they'll turn him into a Rush Limbaugh fan!" "N-o-o-o-o..." the voice reverberated. Clumsily, 707 hiked up his Hawaiian shirt and began unbuckling his belt--whose color clashed with the beige Bermuda shorts he wore--just as several sinister shadows fell across the agent from every direction. "Uh-oh," 707 mumbled to himself as he stopped moving briefly, the belt now in his hands, and cut his eyes about at the expected sources of the shadows. A dozen or so wide-shouldered, musclebound "orderlies" with pistols, knives and short clubs in their hairy hands stood, their eyes narrowed and sadistic sneers on their square-jawed faces. "You know," began the bumbling CONTROL agent with a somewhat frantic tone, "something like this would ordinarily worry your average agent who'd left his government-issued firearm in his other pants...but not an agent who has one of these!" As 707 stupidly lifted the belt into view, holding the buckle end in one hand and the tapered end in the other, the thugs surrounding him looked at one another in amused puzzlement. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking," chuckled 707 as he shook the belt menacingly at the men standing in a circle about him. "You're saying to yourself, 'This guy's nuts! He's trying to scare us with just a belt.' But that's where you're wrong! It's not just a belt." As the thugs continued to watch in perplexity, 707 began some strangely exaggerated movements with the belt, twisting it this way, turning it that... "In a few minutes," he grunted while still twisting, turning and tugging, "this belt will turn into a combination M-60 and grenade launcher. When that happens, you guys'll be sorry. Oh-ho-ho, you will be so sorry! Just as soon...just as soon as I make this...unh...this last turn...oof...I'll blow you bad boys away. Yeah..." Despite all his attempting to twist and turn various parts of the belt--the "orderlies" almost laughing at the intruder's idiotic struggles with a belt which seemed to be fighting back and winning--all 707 wound up with was an ordinary belt wrapped about his wrists and forearms like leather handcuffs. "Uhh..." 707 nervously blurted with a forced smile and chuckle, "I put on the wrong belt this morning. "This one doesn't do anything but hold up my pants." Perfectly on cue, 707's baggy Bermuda shorts slipped down his hips to plop onto the floor about his ankles. He looked down, then slowly raised his pensive face to regard his armed captors. "Ah, well, boys, I've just got one question: How's KAOS prison food these days?" Ka-ba-THOOM! The explosion came as a sudden shock to everyone--especially an acutely agitated Agent 707--as all quickly looked in the direction of what used to be a south wall on one end of the corridor. "All right, drop your weapons!" the instantly recognizable nasal voice shouted as he led heavily armed CONTROL agents through the dust-cloud created by the explosion that had torn through thick concrete and plaster. "Maxwell Smart, Chief of CONTROL. You're all under arrest!" The thugs, now outnumbered and outgunned, tossed aside their various instruments of violence--taking way too long to do so, and creating a pile of killing gear nearly three feet in height on one side of the corridor. "Enough already!" Max exclaimed in exasperation. "Boy, you guys must owe a mint to those weapons supply companies in Soldier Of Fortune magazine!" "Chief?" 707 puzzled as he stood with his hands still entangled in his belt, but with a tone in his voice as if nothing were amiss. "What are you and these CONTROL Strike Force agents doing here?" "Quite simple, 707," Max said with a self-assured smirk which only accentuated the obliviousness of his features. "When Larrabee was unable to raise you on your wallet-phone, I assumed the worst and immediately put a Triple A-1 Alert into effect. As soon as the helicopters were in the air and the bombproof vans full of highly-trained agents assembled, we proceeded to rush right over and use plastique to blow out that wall in order to use the element of surprise to its fullest." "But Chief," 707 whispered sheepishly, close to Max's ear, "I left my wallet-phone in my trenchcoat outside. I couldn't have heard you anyway." A perplexed look dominating Max's features, the current Chief of CONTROL could only say, "Oh. Well, guess it's a good thing you really did need help, then." 707 glanced at his leather-bound arms and the shorts about his ankles and blushed, as Max asked, "So where do they have the old Chief?" Gesturing clumsily with both bound hands--almost bopping Max in the nose in the process--707 stammered, "I, uh, don't know for sure, Your Most Exalted Self, but I believe I heard him screaming further down this hall." "Screaming?" "Yeah," 707 said, and proceeded to demonstrate mere inches from Max's ear. "`Arrgg! Noooo!'" Max's eyes crossed and his jaw dropped open as he slowly stuck a finger in the assaulted ear in an attempt to purge it of the ringing initiated by 707. "Oh, sorry, Chief." "Eh?" "We've found him!" someone shouted excitedly from the far end of the corridor as Max shook some sense into himself and quickly dashed toward the now-open operating room doors. 707 baby-stepped behind in his fallen Bermuda shorts which slapped the floor, his hands still trapped by the knotted belt. "Don't wait for me, Your Excellency!" he shouted after Max, who totally ignored him. "I'll be along in a few minutes. Don't hold up the rescue for me. I'll be fine, really." "Chief?!" Max exclaimed in shock at the sight of Thaddeus, who was being helped off the upright metal table. As Siegfried and Starker were brought past Max, he grabbed the former by the collar of his laboratory smock and growled, "All right, Siegfried, what have you done to the Chief?" "Nozhink zhsat a lobotomy vouldn't fix, Maxshvell Shmart!" "You'll pay for this, Siegfried!" "In shmall change, Shmart!" "Take him away," barked the bumbling head of CONTROL, but then added, somewhat effeminately, "By the way, Siegfried, I love what you've done with your hair." "Oh, zhank you, Maxshvell," Siegfried lisped as he was forcefully shoved out the operating room doorway. "Hey, don't be zo rough!" Max rushed over to his ex-boss and sputtered, "My God, he looks like a zombie! What could've possibly been done to him?" "Till the one day when this lady met this fellow," Thaddeus mumbled maniacally to himself, "and they knew that it was much more than a hunch..." "Oh, God!" gasped Max, then added in grave tones, "That's horrible! Is there anything that can be done for the poor devil?" "Well," the Task Force team leader sighed, "a few hours of back-to-back Dirty Harry movies should snap him out of this." "Good," Max said with a confident nod as Thaddeus was led from the operating room. "Well, our work's done here. Time to go back to protecting the world from dictators, terrorists and insurance salesmen." Just as the shuffling 707 joined Max's side, the CONTROL Chief jammed his pistol into his shoulder holster. It fired. "Ooh," 707 hummed with his face screwed into an expression suggestive of the seriousness of the injury that now had Max rolling his eyes. "That's gonna take a lot of Band-Aids." "Shut up, 707," Max said with a strained voice through clenched teeth while heading for the doorway. "Yes, sir, don't worry about that," the agent with his hands bound by his own belt said as he shuffled after his idol. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's shutting up. I was even good at shutting up when I was a kid. Just ask my Mommy!" "Shut up!" "Yes, sir, anything you say, sir," 707 continued as the two exited through the hole blasted into the south wall. "By the way, Your Legendship, if you need any blood to make up for what you're dribbling all over the floor, I'd be more than happy to donate it!" "707," Max shrieked in exasperation and pain just outside the hole, "shut up!" T H E E N D (This is where you would see the end credits if we had any. Since we don't, let me just take this opportunity to expound to you my latest project: A sub-spatial displacement field, which has a great many interesting properties...) S H U T U P ! ! ! (Sorry about that, reader.) ****** ** Leap In, Fade Out A QUANTUM LEAP/INVISIBLE MAN Short Story By D. Lynn Bivens P A R T T W O Nobody ever said Leaping into other people's lives wouldn't be free of surprises or shocks--God knows I've had plenty of both--but nothing could've readied me for Leaping into an invisible man...let alone one who happened to be an old colleague of mine prior to Project Quantum Leap. Al's disconcerted expression, as the two of us stared into a full-length mirror where my own reflection looked back, said it all. "Al, how the Hell am I going to make certain not to stand near any reflective surfaces and try to talk my way through a meeting with Walter Carlson and whoever else without exposing the fact that I'm not Dr. Daniel Weston?" "Uh..." Al fumbled while puffing pensively on his expensive cigar, "all I can tell you, Sam, is to fake it the best you can." "Fake it?" Al seemed somewhat embarrassed at being at such a loss for words--possibly the least likely eventuality during any Leap--and shrugged, "Ziggy and I will do everything we can to make certain your little improvisational performance doesn't come off as...transparent." "Ha, ha, very funny, Al," I sarcastically retorted as I turned from my own reflection in the full-length mirror to regard my holographic friend with a no-nonsense stare. "Instead of standing there making bad puns, you should be getting Ziggy to recalculate the odds on what I've been sent here to do." "I already told you," Al animatedly insisted as he started pacing about and passing through solid objects--I hate it when he does that!--"Ziggy gives the best odds on you being here to reverse the invisibility process for Dr. Weston. Then he can stop being..." Al double-checked the data on the handlink, "...an agent for the KLAE Corporation and use his genius for all the great things he would have accomplished had things been any different for him and his wife." "He and Kate did evidently waste their scientific potential those many years ago," I pondered pityingly as I proceeded to pace about as well--this time taking care to not bump into things myself. It's much easier to avoid objects when you can see where your body is in relation to them. "I remember wondering what had happened to him when I first oversaw the installation of equipment at Stallion's Gate, never realizing it was his impassioned search to become visible again, followed by failure after failure, which drove the couple into obscurity." "That's what Ziggy and I've been telling you!" "But I'm still not qualified to reverse a process created by Dan!" I adamantly argued with the one person who had literally stood by me through years of Leaps. "I know nothing about his invisibility theories. In fact, if memory serves, Dan's true scientific quest was in the teleportation of matter. There's almost nothing in common between that and time travel. Hell, I can't even develop a means of reversing my own experiment-gone-wrong!" Al seemed to struggle against saying something, as he absently strode through some computer equipment on his way to join me. "Al, I know that look," I strongly stated as he came closer with clouds of cigar smoke encircling his hanging head. "What is it you're trying not to tell me?" Al looked up at me while slowly slipping the stogie from his lips, reacting to an unheard--by me, at least--voice which could only have one possible source. "Gushie, I know what we discussed before I stepped into the Imaging Chamber," Al railed into the air like some madman, "but Sam's got a right to know, and I'm gonna tell him! So zip it!" He then stared directly into my eyes in a manner normally used whenever something unpleasant was about to be revealed about a Leap. "Sam, according to the most likely of scenarios run by Ziggy earlier, your somehow helping to reverse Dan Weston's invisibility will make it possible for him to become an important part of Project Quantum Leap." "In what way?" I asked, already suspecting his answer. Al puffed on his cigar a couple of tense seconds, then stated matter-of-factly, "Sam, Dr. Weston's participation in the Project would make it possible to bring you back!" It hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks my father used to mention whenever something startling took place...or whenever he was told something as shocking and unexpected as this. "Great," I groaned frustratedly as I began pacing again. "Either I do the impossible in order to save my old friend, or the two of us are doomed to be victims of our pet projects." "You don't know that it's impossible to reverse Dr. Weston's condition, Sam!" Al continued to insist as he paced alongside me while hurriedly entering requests for further information into the handlink. "According to Ziggy's calculations, there's a, uh, 43.6 percent chance you can somehow redo his invisibility gizmo to make him visible again." "That's a lower percentage than Ziggy had given you for making sure this particle-gun device was not taken on by the KLAE Corporation." "I thought we'd settled this already!" Al laughingly lamented while waving his hands about like a bandleader, his cigar leaving thick trails of smoke in its weaving wake. "Look, they're not gonna agree to these experiments with the particle cannon thing. Your only hope is to try and bring Dr. Weston's visibility back!" "But I've already told you, Al, I can't! This field of physics was not part of my expertise." "Well, according to Ziggy, it's the only logical reason for being here." "Well, Ziggy's been known to be wrong before, Al." "Yeah, but most of the time she's right on the money." "Well, some of the time she's off-base, and I think this is one of those times." "Dan?" Oh, boy. How many times has this happened to me? Arguing with Al, whom no one else can see or hear, just as a person important to the success of a Leap walks in on what seems to be an unstable person having a heated debate with empty air. "Oh, uh, Kate," I stammered as she stood in the doorway of the lab looking at me with eyes full of fearful suspicion, "I, uh, I was just, uh, practicing for our meeting with the government guys...the ones I'll be arguing with in just a few minutes." She slowly approached while studying me intently and asked, "You're not thinking of changing your mind and doing the experimental work on the particle gun, are you? I thought we'd already decided against it." "We have!" I quickly interjected as I tried to redeem myself in her eyes. "I haven't changed my mind at all." "Well, it certainly sounded that way when I came in," Kate commented pensively as she stared into my eyes with a strange expression I had noticed earlier just after Leaping in. "Seemed you're practicing leaning toward an argument for KLAE Corporation involvement." "No, no!" I exclaimed suddenly as I realized how close I'd come to screwing up the whole thing. "I...you...it's not how it sounded!" "That's thinking on your feet, Sam," Al sarcastically quipped from behind me as cigar smoke swirled about my head. Good thing I couldn't actually smell it. "Not now, Al," I quietly said through tightly clenched teeth meant to convey a calming smile to Kate. "What?" "Nothing," I swiftly answered somewhat nervously as Kate knitted her brow in puzzled consternation over her spouse's perplexing change in character. I would have to be careful from this point on, or Kate would come to realize I was not her cherished husband. "We'd better go," I said while gesturing toward the door. "Don't want to keep Walter waiting any longer than usual." "Why, all of a sudden, do you care whether we keep Walter waiting?" Her searching eyes danced about my dermaplex features as if seeing something different in the over-the-head mask which was Dan's only means toward visibility. "Uh, shall we, dear?" Kate finally looked away while shaking her head and heaving an exasperated sigh. I glanced back over my shoulder at Al as he held up the handlink. "I'll meet you in Carlson's office, Sam." Al then tapped on its buttons and promptly popped out. If only I could have done the same at that moment. "Ah, here they are now." Walter Carlson stood and crossed the expanse of his office to greet us. Al was already there, of course, standing near the rear wall and waving in his usual humorous manner. I always try to ignore Al when he does that, since he knows I'm the only one who can see him and he obviously gets a "kick in the pants" from doing nonsense like that. No sooner had Carlson--a tall man with features that might have been called "matinee looks" in the past--reached us than he chastised us in a hushed aside. "I was beginning to think I was going to have to send Security to drag you down here, Dan." "He, uh, was having a little trouble getting his mask and gloves just right," Kate quietly lied before I even had a chance to speak. "And, uh, I was helping him." Walter eyed us both with a disbelieving look and one eyebrow raised, then hissed through his perfect teeth, "I know how much the two of you like horsing around in the lab, but really..." If dermaplex were capable of blushing, I'm certain my cheeks would have been quite flushed after that unexpected statement by a man who was obviously as much a close friend of the Westons as he was their boss. Kate's cheeks were indeed flushed. "Uh, General Matting, Colonel Marks," Walter politely called to the two uniformed men slowly rising from their respective seats, "allow me to introduce our resident genius, Dr. Daniel Weston, and his assistant, who also happens to be his wife, Kate. Dan, Kate, meet General Matting and Colonel Marks." "How do you do, General...Colonel," I said as I stepped forward and shook their hands. "Sorry we were late. We were, uh, finishing up some calculations on one of our ongoing experiments." "Uh, yes," Kate added as she, too, shook their hands. "Some equations dealing with the electromagnetic potential of neutrinos in a near-zero environment." Though what Kate had said sounded good, it basically served the purpose of so much scientific doubletalk. However, it did seem to impress our military visitors, as well as add credibility to why we were late. "Well," General Matting said somberly while looking at his wristwatch, "we both have late afternoon briefings at the Pentagon, so let's get down to brass tacks." Oh, great. A "brass tacks" kind of guy. Just what I needed to make my day even more stressful. Even Al displayed obvious disdain for the General as he stepped unseen to the officer's side with an expression of utter disgust on his sometimes comical face. "We're here because the Star Wars program is at a standstill." "Yeah," Al interjected with a sarcastic snort. "The damn project was a waste of time and money!" "The part of the project," Colonel Marks added, totally oblivious to Al's remarks, "dealing with a functioning particle cannon has...hit a slight snag." "Yeah, it can't be built and shouldn't!" chanted Al in a chorus unheard by the military men. I was dying to tell Al to butt out, but I had no desire to instill further doubts regarding Dan's sanity in anyone, especially Kate. So I just pretended I had not heard anything other than what was being said by the General and the Colonel. "Uh...what kind of snag?" The General glanced at the Colonel as if uncertain of how much should be revealed...then took a breath and regretfully replied. "It seems the scientific minds who originally designed a prototype failed to take into account what would happen should the thing overload." "Yeah," Al interjected tauntingly while calling up as much declassified data on his handlink as he could. "It seems they blew up a billion-dollar R&D complex located in what was known as Area 51 and lost their dim-bulb braniacs in the process, as well as a dozen or so soldiers. Nothing was left of the prototype except the computer backup files of the blueprints." "So," I asked just before Al finished his sharp-tongued relay of pertinent information, "what is it the military thinks I can do, General Matting, that those scientists involved couldn't?" "We want the man who gave us the KLAE Resource to use that great intellect of his to perfect our project." The KLAE Resource? Obviously, it was something Dan knew of full well, but I had never heard of it. I looked to Al, who, thankfully, was already pulling that data from his hand-held connection to Ziggy. "Uh, the KLAE Resource must be the codename Walter Carlson gave to the invisible Dr. Weston, Sam. No one else in the government ever knew anything about its true nature." "Well," I stalled, in hopes of not tipping off Kate and Carlson to the fact that I wasn't Dr. Daniel Weston, "there's a major difference in the development of the, uh, the KLAE Resource and...and a particle cannon." "But both are outgrowths of standard physics equations, aren't they?" Colonel Marks curiously inquired as if reading my expression for some vulnerability which could be exploited. "Uh, yes, of course," I nervously said as I began pacing about the office so that these military leaders could not deduce too much from my visible symptoms of uncertainty. "But...but that still doesn't erase the inescapable fact that they evolved from two different areas of physics research. Just because I was, uh, able to create the KLAE Resource doesn't necessarily mean I could complete this project." "The bottom line, gentlemen," Kate interjected a bit abruptly, "is that my husband and I have no intention of working on a weapon of such destructive potential." "Attagirl!" Al cheered while Walter seemed somewhat distressed with her bluntness. "Dr. Weston," General Matting began with a self-important smirk on his scowling face, "Mrs. Weston...need I remind you where most of the KLAE Corporation's funding comes from? Where the money used to eventually create your KLAE Resource came from?" "I'm c