Sam shook his head as the electrical swirl subsided, glancing down at what he was wearing in his first attempt to orientate himself. it didn't help.

"What is this? Halloween? Lost in Space?" he groaned, holding out his arms in disbelief at the silver space suit he appeared to be wearing. "Not Commando Cody again," he pleaded. He chanced to look out of the small porthole like window beside him, and was greeted by the sight of a small blue planet slowly setting in the west.
Some innate gut feeling told him that this wasn't a special effect.

"Oh - Oh Boy," he whispered in disbelief.

MAY 15th, 1980.

Al puffed lazily on his cigar as he drove his beat up old car across the New Mexico desert. The car was protesting slightly over the distance and the shoddy roadway, but Al's many alimony payments unfortunately did not allow for the little luxuries in life like a mean, lean, testosterone street machine.

He was tired; he rubbed his eyes as he squinted over the highway marker, barely visible in the darkness with the car's failing headlights. He thought he saw a shooting star for a moment over the top of the roadsign, but it seemed to be heading on too straight a trajectory to be a piece of space junk. Maybe an old satellite, or the after burners from some new hush hush experimental jet they were trying out over at the air base. He didn't know anymore, or really care, locked as he was in his own project, trying to squeeze a few more dollars worth of budget out of a highly sceptical congress. That seemed to be all he did these days. They should have gone private. Those monkeys threw billions of dollars of cash at some screwballs trying to invent straight bananas, for heaven's sake, with no one to account to, so long as there was a profit margin. He looked up into the sky and made a wish. He knew it was wrong to wish on space hardware, but, with the way the project was going at the moment, they needed all the help they could get. He blinked for a moment, and when he looked up again, the small streak of light had vanished.


~
"UFO on trajectory course 490.07" SID's computerised voice calmly reported over the red alert klaxons.

"Colonel Foster," Gina's dark brown face was lined with concern, "The UFO has broken through our defences. It's heading straight for earth."

"Commander Straker's on the line." interrupted Lieutenant Gay Ellis, the very soul of studious efficiency.

Inwardly, Sam groaned. He was in the trenches here, on the front line, and he had no idea what to do. People could die, and he was pretty damn sure he wasn't here to get innocent people killed.

"Holy shit, will you look at this stuff! I always knew Project BlueBook were on to something. But I never expected this. Look at this stuff. This is where our defence budget dollars have been going. The Cold war was a crock. Just look at this " He playfully pressed at a few blinking buttons. "Beam me up Scotty," he grinned, managing the almost impossible as to be dressed louder than Sam in his little silver suit.

"Al!" hissed Sam urgently. "Thank God you're here. What do I do? We're under attack."

"I can see that." Al drew on his cigar pensively. "I suggest you talk to your commanding officer. He might have a few ideas."

Sam flicked the comm switch and the scowling visage of a blonde man with ice cold eyes appeared.

"Foster - what the hell is going on! You let a UFO through."

"I, er, know that, Sir," stumbled Al. It broke through our defences, it seemed to anticipate the interceptor strategies."

"I see." The man on the old end of the line inhaled on his own cigar deeply. "We'll discuss this later. Right now I'll launch SkyDiver and ground crews to track the damn thing - if it hasn't already landed. I'll see you in my office when you get back to earth after you shift." The comm link was brutally cut off.

"Ooooh, Sam, you're in trouble now," teased Al.

But that was the last thing on Sam's mind.

"Back to Earth, How?' he asked his hologramatic friend.

Al jerked his cigar in the direction of the window, through which could be seen a large space craft being fitted for travel.

"A spaceship," Sam murmured numbly. "I don't know how to fly a space ship."

"Relax," Al went to pat him on the shoulder, but missed. "Piece of cake. Can't be too different from the birds I used to fly. I'll guide you through it."

"Thanks," said Sam, through gritted teeth. "You don't know what a comfort that is."

~
Admiral Al Calavicchi was rally getting tired now. He must have been driving for hours. It was 2am in the morning, and his destination seemed to surrealistically grow further away from him, rather than closer. He was sure the numerals on the mile posts were growing bigger instead of smaller. Out from the highway, across the desert, there seemed to be a strange, silver green glow. It couldn't be the Project headquarters, not yet.

He drove on for a bit, and it seemed to disappear behind some hills. He couldn't see it anymore, no matter how hard he looked. Regardless of the terrain, he should still be able to seem some of it's phospherent glow against the pitch black sky - there were no street lights or houses out here.

Nah, he decided to himself. He must be starting to hallucinate. Time to pull over and have a snooze. That three week old sludge they served as coffee back at the roadside diner 3 hours ago was beginning to wear off now anyway. Sam would probably panic and call out the Highway Patrol if he wasn't back on time, but hey, a little bit of concern wouldn't hurt the kid any. Sometimes he wondered if Sam ever lived outside in the real world, or had he always existed in that lab of his.

Al settled himself in the backseat with an old travelling rug, and slept so soundly he did not hear the caterpillar tracks of a large armoured vehicle of the military persuasion thunder by.

~
Sam could not believe his eyes, and neither could Al. Sam constantly ha to bring his errant friend to heel each time they passed a scantily clad starlet.

"A movie studio. Maybe I was right the first time. Maybe this isn't real."

"Oh, its real alright, " drooled Al after a particular leggy sample of the scenery.

They entered the main office, Sam awkwardly adjusting his purple suit.

"This guy is colour blind," muttered Sam, trying futily to loosen the skivvy around his neck.

"I don't see what your problem is," replied Al.

As they waited at the secretary's desk, Sam picked up a newspaper and scanned the front page.

"I still don't know where I am, or what I'm supposed do be doing," he complained.

"Search me," shrugged Al.

"Well - ask Ziggy," Sam whispered in annoyance.

With an exasperated sigh, Al pulled the handlink from his pocket and jabbed at a few buttons. The machine did nothing but squeal when he shook it.

"Still no good. Ziggy's trying, but this place is sewn up tighter than a Nun's knickers.
This is like mega mega top secret stuff. I'm surprised we haven't had heavies come bust the door down yet for even trying. We only know what the guy's name is cause it's sewn into his underwear."

"Thanks a lot." muttered Sam. "May 15th, 1980. Maybe Ziggy can work with that.
And I'm in England A movie studio in or near London."

"Okay." Al dutifully tapped away, then his face creased with a frown.

"What now," asked Sam wearily.

"That date. Remember that time I was driving back from another budget crisis meeting in Washington? I had to drive back because we couldn't afford plane tickets."

"Not particularly," shrugged Sam.

"Well, neither do I. I pulled over to catch some sleep on the side of the road. The next thing I know, I'm waking up with the most godawful headache, and I turn on the radio.
It's 2 pm, Monday the 18th. I missed a whole two days."

"Were you drinking?" Sam hated having to ask Al that question, but it had to be asked.

Al shook his head.

"No. You know I had it well under control by then. I was dry. You wouldn't have kept me on the project if I wasn't. It's just that - it's very fuzzy - but I think I saw a bright light in the sky before I crashed out."

"Do you think-"

"That UFO you let through - they tracked it to North America - New Mexico."

Before Sam had time to digest this revelation, the secretary appeared. The 'Do Not Enter" sign above the office had winked out to a slightly more welcoming 'Enter'.

"You can go in now, Mr Foster." she advised curtly.

Al grinned as the doors hissed shut.

"Boy, you must have done something to get a frosty reception like that. Yikes."

Sam was more concerned with the empty office.

"Well, what do I do now?" he spoke aloud to his invisible companion.

"Voice pattern confirmed. Foster. Paul. Colonel." spoke a computerised voice from above.

With a slight stomach heaving lurch, the floor began to drop away. The whole office was sinking below the ground.

"Whoa. 007ville." smiled Al in approval.

After a drop of a about a hundred metres the lift came to a stop at last, the doors swishing open to reveal a beaming, craggy faced man.

"Paul, good to be back on old terra firma again, huh. You're in luck, too. He's so busy tracking that UFO that landed in New Mexico that chewing out Moonbase personnel will have to wait."

The man put a friendly guiding hand on Sam's shoulder and led him to his office.

"Scotch?' he offered.

Sam shook his head.

"Probably just as well." agreed Alec. "He's mad as hell that the UFO managed to avoid our defences with such apparent speed."

"Maybe we've become to predictable, with the computerised flight plans," put in Sam.

"You could be right there. Anyway, the damn things landed in New Mexico. This is the sixth confirmed New Mexico landing."
He shrugged. "Perhaps it's the airforce base, the testing sights, or that Quantum Project they've got going on down there. Who knows."

Sam shot Al an urgent look.

"But whatever it is, it draws them like a magnet." Alec continued. "We've got SHADO Mobiles in there now."

~
Al woke with a start. He thought it was daylight at first, then everything went dark again. Overhead he heard the whine of a jet engine in trouble, screaming closer to the ground, until the scream ended with the tearing impact erupting into an explosion that lit up the night sky. Another beam of light speared through the night sky towards the stricken fireball.

He twisted his digital watch into the orange glow of the car's cigarette lighter so he could read it. 2.30 am. He'd been out for just under half an hour, and all hell had broken loose. He head a low heavy rumbling behind him, and ducked down low in his seat.

A powerful beam of light swept through the car, and Al crouched lower, remembering War of the Worlds with a new found terror.. Something smashed in the window and unlocked the door. He watched with horror as he heard the handle click, and the door swing open before he was blinded by the light again.

"We've got a civilian here" said a voice.

"Get that damn light out of his face, and get him out of the car. Foster will be here any minute - and he wants this area cleared of all non-combatants now."

With his eyes adjusting, Al realised these were human faces, in some sort of military uniform.

"I am not a civilian, " he began testily as he was manhandled from his car. He watched irritably as they pawed through his briefcase and wallet.

"He's right." admitted the junior officer, who was verifying the documents. "This man is a navy admiral, seconded to that Quantum Leap Project 20 kms away."

The senior officer turned to Al with a newfound respect. Not much, but just a little.

"Officer or not, Sir, this is a secured area, and I must ask you to accompany us on the Mobile for your own safety. This is a SHADO matter now."

SHADO. Not a national matter, but some sort of war with these initial guys in charge. He got the feeling this was bigger than a national matter. The Mobile reeked very expensive machinery, the sort of setup that did not have to go to congress with cap in hand.

He sat down in the seat they offered him, listening to the voices over the radio, and then stood upright again with a start.

"He said UFO. It's attacking and it's 15kms away from where my friends are!" he all but yelled.

"We know that, Sir. We have units securing the Project base now. If you'll just sit down."

"What do they want" Al continued.

The officer turned around in his chair. "I don't know. Just what have you got there in that top secret base of yours."

~
Sam hunched over the computer terminal as the jet he was on screamed towards the American South West. It was a map of the area where the UFO had gone down.

"There, he pointed a finger to a place on the screen. Quantum Leap is the closest thing around."

"I know I was driving back," began Al.

Sam ordered the ground units to search the roads and clear the area of all non-essential personnel. He ordered a further unit of SHADO mobiles to secure Project Quantum Leap. He gave them the entry code, figuring they probably already had it, anyway.

"Damn it, when is this plane going to land." He thumped the console in frustration.

Alec poked his head through the door to the cockpit.

"Sky Two is in the air and ready to begin ground strikes."

"Give them the all clear." ordered Sam. "I don't care what Straker wants. Raze the damn thing to the ground if you have to. They must not be allowed to gain access to the project. Capture is not our priority here."

~
Al listened to the voice over the radio. He'd never heard it before, but something about the language made it seem familiar. And the voice seemed to be intimately aquainted with the security measures in force within Quantum Leap, Al noticed with raising ire.

He heard the whine of another jet engine passing low overhead.

Not too low, Al mentally instructed the pilot, judging the aircrafts speed and height from the sund of it's engines. Just come in nice and slow, make it count. He held his breath as he heard the missiles loosed, and, seconds later, the resultant detonation.

The radio crackled: "Sky Two - Sky Two - Do you confirm hit - over."

There was a pause of centuries.

"This is Sky Two. Confirm destruction of target. Over."

The relief within the mobile was tangible.

The colonel's voice came over the radio again, ordering the ground crews to move in and clean up. Damage control was now in operation.

~
Al sat at a makeshift table beside a SHADO Mobile, sipping hot coffee, watching the ground crews with a certain educated fascination. It was about 5.30 am and the sky was growing lighter.

A tall man in a quasi militaristic looking outfit and a British accent came and stood before him, almost a little nervously.

"Im sorry, Al, but they say they've got to give you this injection, to make you forget, for security purposes."

"Amnesia drugs. Get out of here."

"They've already administered it to the staff at Quantum Leap. Don't worry. I oversaw the operation and made sure they didn't find out anything they didn't already know.
Which wasn't much since they've been keeping an eye on us since they shot me up with that truth serum, back when they were just called BlueBook."

The voice was British. But the eyes, Al knew those eyes, and that quiet determination.

"Sam?" he asked. "It is you, isn't it."

Sam sat down in front of him.

"Yes, Al It worked. I'm here. I guess I leapt back here to make sure you and the project were alright."

"Son of a bitch," murmured Al, sitting back in his seat. "It worked."

"I've got to go now," said Sam sadly, ising from the chair.

He watched as the medic rolled up Al's sleeve and daubed the skin with alcohol. As the needle was prepared, Sam felt himself enveloped once again by the strange energy, and he vanished from the likeness of Paul Foster in a flash of blue light.

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