PGH: Hanoi Jane's Book Signing

AD 2161 ...

"... to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before."

Captain Jonathan Archer closed his logbook, and wondered what would happen next. The charter was signed. The United Federation of Planets was a reality. While his ship, the Enterprise, was being decommissioned, he knew that another by that name would one day navigate the stars.

He hoped that whoever commanded the later generations of star ships would have the same desire, the same sense of adventure to live every moment and to bring knowledge back for the betterment of all mankind.

Perhaps one of Ensign April's descendants. Or Lt. Pike's. Whoever commanded the later craft, he was certain, would be an excellent representative of Earth and the Federation.

Archer felt a sense of accomplishment, greater than anything he had felt in ... how many years? It reminded him of the time he and Al ... AL!! The memories came rushing back. Then everything was blue. And in a flash of light, he was gone. Or rather, Dr. Sam Beckett was gone and Jonathan Archer was back, disoriented at first, his mind a Swiss Cheese of facts and memories. He knew things he shouldn't, but knew things were all right.

---

AD 2005 ...

Sam hit the brakes on the car, barely stopping in time to avoid the truck in front. He looked in the mirror. More gray hair than he was used to, but it was scattered and gave the effect of lightening the hair. He looked down and saw he was wearing an Atlanta Braves shirt. Baseball. He knew about baseball. One of his first assignments was in a baseball game. He looked in the mirror again. The age was right, but the complexion was wrong. So he wasn't Julio Franco. That was a relief. He wouldn't have to be in a baseball game. Or would he?

Horns behind him honked and Sam, startled, looked at the empty space in front of him where a truck had been. He stepped on the accelerator and the car moved forward. He negotiated to the right lane and turned into the first parking lot entrance he could find. It was a mall.

He drove towards the entrance, but quickly found that to be futile. He finally parked on the far end of the lot, turned the car off and sat for a moment. He looked at the newspaper on the seat next to him, then up at the visor over the passenger seat ... what's that? Ah, tickets to the Braves game. So, a fan, and not a player. That was suspected and now confirmed.

Sam looked over at the mall, trying to decide whether or not to enter.

"She's in there," Al said.

Sam jumped. "AL!! Oh, it great to see you. I was worried it had all been a dream!"

"What are you talking about, Sam? You just a few minutes ago leaped out of a security guard in Nashville and now you're hear in Atlanta, a few days earlier," Al said, confusion showing in his voice.

"What about the last 10, 11 years?" Sam asked.

The hand controller in Al's hand squeaked. Al looked at it, eyes wide open. "Ziggy says you have been gone for nearly 11 years. But that can't be right!"

"Al, we're leaping through time. I was gone and back in 11 years for me, but only moments for you," Sam explained.

"That's really ... Oh, wait! Ziggy says she is inside," Al said.

"Who's inside?"

"Hanoi Jane." Al nearly spat the words.

"Jane Fonda?" asked a surprised Sam Beckett.

"I spent years in a prisoner-of-war camp while she was here and in North Vietnam rallying against the troops. If she and the other anti-war protesters hadn't been stirring up so much trouble and giving aid and comfort to the enemy, I'd have been released a lot sooner and some of my best friends would be alive today. And I nearly lost Beth because of it." The disdain in Al's voice was very apparent.

"Yes, Al, I remember her. But what has that got to do with me? Why am I here?" Sam asked.

"Ziggy isn't sure. But this can't be a coincidence," Al said.

"What's my name?" asked Sam.

"It looks like you are a blogger named 'Basil,' Al responded. The controller shrieked. "Correction. It's 'basil.' At least that's what Ziggy is saying. She says she 'gets it.' I sure as heck don't."

"Okay, so why am I here?" Sam asked.

"You need to go into the mall and to the bookstore and see Hanoi Jane. Now," Al directed.

Sam went into the mall and negotiated his way to the bookstore. And there she was. Even as a woman of 67 years of age, she still retained her beauty. Definitely not the sex-kitten appearance of 35 years earlier, but the elegance of a woman of beauty who took care of herself, and had a make-up crew at her disposal.

"She's still beautiful," said Sam.

"All I see is ugly," replied Al. "She sat an an anti-aircraft gun while American pilots flew overhead! She ... she ... " was all Al could say as the emotion swelled up inside him. Not for himself, but for his fellow prisoners in Hanoi that never made it home. "That bitch!"

Sam had stopped, shocked at the emotion he was hearing. Al had been relatively quiet and stoic about his incarceration at the end of an earlier mission. But this was different. Sam was taken aback, but remembered bits and pieces of what Al and others had gone through. Al got though it. But others didn't. And Al couldn't forgive. And that was shocking to him. And it caused him to hesitate. And that allowed the angry Vietnam vet, who was immediately behind basil/Sam, to step past him and draw his gun.

Sam's mission was a failure. In the original history, basil was too slow to delay the man from drawing his gun. The policeman on duty was too slow in getting there. And Jane Fonda was too slow to duck in time. The angry man was going to accomplish his goal and Jane Fonda was going to be dead.

Then suddenly, the blue light encompassed Sam/basil.

Disoriented, basil looked shocked at the man who just passed him, revolver in hand.

Also slightly disoriented, Sam was suddenly sitting at a table, looking up at the face he had seen in the mirror just minutes earlier. But now, the face was on a stunned-looking man, looking to his right. Sam's eyes moved to the right and he saw the wild-eyed man with the drawn handgun. The man's arm was coming level and the barrel was pointing at Sam's face.

Sam ducked, his 51-year old reaction time made up for the slowness of the 67-year-old woman's body he was now occupying. The bullet sailed over his head and lodged in a stack of Al Franken books, marked down to clearance prices.

Just then, basil and a man on the other side of the gunman jumped the angry man. The nearby policeman, hearing the commotion and the gunshot, was on the scene in a flash.

As mall security hurried Jane/Sam away, Al followed.

"No! No! No! Dammit! Dammit! She should have died! She doesn't deserve to live!" Al cried.

"What about me? What about me, Al?" Sam asked, after he excused himself and stepped into the women's room.

Al followed quietly. After a moment, "No, Sam, I don't want you dead. I'm glad you're okay. But why did you leap into her and save her life?"

"Al," Sam explained, "you must remember that I was a priest once. And I know a little bit about Scripture."

"Yeah, so...?"

"So, Jane Fonda converted to Christianity a few years ago. She's asked forgiveness for her actions in the Vietnam War," Sam explained. "And doesn't she deserve forgiveness?"

"No! Not at all! She was a traitor and spit in the face of the military and spit in the face of my country!" Al maintained.

"But she acknowledges what she did was wrong!" Sam responded.

Al said, "But she still ... to this very day ... opposes that war!"

Sam paused. "Al, Pope Paul opposed the war in Vietnam. Pope John Paul opposed the war in Iraq. Does that make them bad?"

"Are you comparing Jane Fonda to the Pope?" asked a shocked Al Calavicci.

"Not at all, Al. I'm just saying that opposing the war doesn't make her bad. What she did with that opposition was wrong. But she now recognizes that, and, as a Christian, has asked forgiveness," replied Sam.

"I hear what you're saying, Sam, and I'm glad she's recognized she was wrong. But that was such a horrible thing she did. It's like she killed my friends ... and tried to kill me. I can't forgive her."

In a flash of blue, Sam was gone.

Jane Fonda stepped out of the ladies' room and looked at the officer standing outside the door. Then she looked over to the man who had just tried to kill her.

"Let him go," she said. "I forgive him."

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