What Might Have Been
by Rhonda Eudaly
Commander John Crichton wasn't sure for a moment where he was or what he was doing. He checked out his surroundings. Okay, he was sitting at a familiar feeling bar. He smiled at the very attractive brunette at the end of the bar. Somehow she looked familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it. She nodded at him then promptly forgot him. Crichton shrugged and went back to his drink.
"Can I get you anything else, Commander Crichton?" the bartender asked, picking up the empty glass and wiping down the bar.
"Not right now, Tony," Crichton answered automatically. It suddenly hit him - what he'd said and to whom. "You're Tony! This is the Launching Pad!"
"Yes, sir. Are you all right, sir?"
"It doesn't matter, Tony. It doesn't matter."
Before he could continue, another attractive woman slid onto the barstool next to him. "Can I buy you a drink, Commander Crichton?"
The question and the woman brought him up short. He finally took a real good look at her. She was auburn haired, blue eyed, and somewhat exotic. He was thrown further off guard by her unusual accent - not to mention the rather generous portion of leg she was showing as she perched on the bar stool. He didn't remember ever having met her before.
"Have we met?" Crichton asked, puzzled.
"Not yet. I'm Olga Vukavitch, and I'm going to be the best friend you've ever had, Dr. Crichton."
Crichton's face froze in shock. "Excuse me?"
"I'd take her up on that drink if I were you, Commander," a male voice said from his other side.
Crichton turned to face the newcomer. "Who are you?"
"I'm with her. Frank Parker. I'm her friend, and we're here to make sure you come back from your mission six days from now."
"What?"
"What did you say, John?" Another voice broke through Crichton's brain, as well as a violent shake. "Come on, Crichton, wake up!"
John Crichton's eyes propped open. He was on Moya once more. Officer Aeryn Sun stood over him. He groaned and tried to roll away from her. She wasn't going to let him.
"No you don't, John. We've got work to do today."
"Do we have to?"
"Pilot says we either do it now or wait until Moya has her baby. Frankly, I don't want to wait that long." Aeryn turned away and headed for the door. She paused and looked back. "Well, are you coming?"
Crichton swung his feet off his bunk and rubbed his face. "I guess it was just a dream after all. But it seemed so real."
"Crichton!" Aeryn bellowed from the corridor. "Come on!"
"Some days it never pays to get out of bed."
Later, Aeryn Sun, previously a much respected and feared Sebacean Peacekeeper officer, stood knee deep in muck with a shovel. She couldn't fathom how she'd gone from that to cleaning out the lower depths of a fussy, pregnant Leviathan. She put down her shovel and wiped the sweat from her face. She looked at Crichton with a mixture of concern and disgust, the two emotions warring with each other. Disgust won.
"I hope that wall is as fascinating as you make it seem to be," Aeryn said caustically.
Her sarcasm cut through Crichton's reverie. He shook his head to clear it and focused on Aeryn. "I'm sorry, Aeryn. I was just thinking about something," he replied, falling back into his work, frantically trying to catch up with Aeryn.
"There's obviously something bothering you, John," she said with a sigh, already regretting what she was getting ready to do. "You might as well go ahead and talk about it."
"You wouldn't be interested," he said distractedly.
"I've made the offer, John, take me up on it," she told him, shoveling away. "Besides, I want to know what it takes to keep you that quiet for that long. It might be worth remembering in the future."
"It was a dream I had," Crichton finally admitted.
"It must have been some dream," she muttered.
"You have no idea," he replied, shaking his head. "It wasn't even that much a like a dream. More like a memory. Like I was there, really there. And I remember every bit of it. I don't usually remember my dreams. Not like this anyway."
"And this bothers you?"
"No. It just makes me think."
"Perhaps you should be having this conversation with Zhaan."
"You asked."
"So I did. Remind me never to do it again."
"Right, Aeryn."
"Besides, I knew you were in the middle of something intense."
"What are you talking about?" Crichton asked.
"You were talking in your sleep when I came to wake you up," Aeryn told him.
"I don't talk in my sleep!" he protested. "Any more than I snore."
Aeryn's only response was laughter. That bothered Crichton more than anything. He'd seen many sides of Aeryn Sun during their enforced journey together. He'd seen her sad, hurting, frighted, or just that one time, very passionate. Mostly he saw her angry or resigned. Never before had he seen her totally amused - mocking, yes, but never amused.
"What?" Crichton demanded.
"There you are," a booming make voice said over them.
They both looked up to see Ka D'Argo standing over them. The Luxan warrior watched them work a second. Aeryn and Crichton looked at him.
"What is it, D'Argo?" she finally asked.
"You don't seem to have made much progress."
"You could help," Crichton suggested.
"No time now. Pilot says there's a promising planet nearby. Moya's changing course. Pilot wants to talk to all of us."
Crichton looked at the muck he stood in. "Can we clean up first?"
"We insist."
Crichton stood in the shower. His dream replayed itself over and over in his mind as clearly and as precisely as the night before. As far as he knew he'd never seen Olga Vukavitch or Frank Parker before. Who were they and why were they in his dream? He shook his head as he reached for a towel. He still thought about it as he dressed and went to join the others.
He managed to beat Aeryn out. Rygel XVI was letting lose a long string of complaints. Crichton had heard them all before. So, like D'Argo he tried to ignore him. Secretly the astronaut wished he could be more like Zohtoh Zahaan. The Delvian P'au actually could let the complaints generally wash over her without reaction. Most of the time - though even now her composure was crumbling. Rygel could be very tiring for such a little guy.
"You look cleaner," D'Argo rumbled to him.
"Just look?" Crichton protested. "I did what I could to get rid of the stink. Pilot, what was that stuff?"
"You don't want to know."
"I was afraid of that. So, what has Moya found?" He asked, trying to drown out the Hyperion. If this was the way he acted when he was Emperor, no wonder he was dethroned, he thought, not for the first time.
"I was waiting for everyone to get here so I would only have to say this once..." Pilot began.
"Go ahead, then, I'm here," Aeryn said, joining the others.
"This is the planet Moya's scanners picked up. It is not far from our current position. She is moving toward it even now."
The screen showed a blue green planet with several orbiting, artificial satellites and one major natural one. Crichton stepped forward involuntarily. His movement did not go unnoticed.
"What is it, John?" Zahaan asked, coming up next to him. "Is it your home planet?"
"No," he said with only a split second hesitation. Part of him wilted with that admission. "Just similar."
"So what's so interesting about this planet, Pilot?" Aeryn asked impatiently.
"It has all the signs of interstellar space travel without any indication of Peacekeeper contact. We should be able to send a launch down and get some supplies. Moya says she is getting good vibes from this planet. I'm not sure I know what that means."
"It means something like intense instincts or feelings," Crichton explained.
"Then why didn't she just say so?" Rygel demanded petulantly.
"John, have you been talking to Moya again?" Zahaan asked gently.
"Can I help it if the ship likes good old Earth axioms?"
"You're kidding me!" Aeryn exclaimed. "And how does she come to like your Earth axioms?"
"Moya's aware of more than just her baby, you know," Crichton returned. "So, Pilot, what's so good about this planet besides a good place to get some fresh food?"
"I'm not sure, but Moya's insistent, so that's where we're going," Pilot returned.
"This isn't a situation like when we met up with some of your people, is it, Zahaan?" Crichton asked. "Anybody else have unusually clear dreams last night?"
Zahaan and D'Argo exchanged glances. "No. Not us."
"Don't look at me," Aeryn put in quickly.
"Nor I," Rygel said self-importantly.
"Just me?" Crichton muttered to himself. "Why me?"
"What did you say, John?" Zahaan asked.
"Nothing. It's not important," he answered. "Aeryn and I will take down a launch, check the place out."
"Wait, why you?" D'Argo demanded.
"We don't show know what's down there, D'Argo. The likelihood of Aeryn and I blending in is better than, say, you and Zahaan. We'll handle it. Once we get an idea of what's going on, we'll send for you."
"How long, Pilot?" Aeryn asked.
"We'll be in orbit in less than an ahn."
"Then we better saddle up."
With that, Crichton turned and left. His stride was purposeful. He never looked back. "You coming, Aeryn?"
Aeryn shrugged and followed.
"What's a saddle?" Rygel asked.
Neither D'Argo nor Zahaan had an answer. They looked to Pilot. "Don't look at me. Moya's the one picking up his vernacular, not me. You'll have to ask him."
A short while later, Crichton and Aeryn's transport winged its way toward the planet below. Moya provided the coordinates for the large port facility. The transport landed with no overt fuss, nor were they challenged when they disembarked. They did not stand out among the bustle of the port facility, nor would the others waiting on Moya be any more obvious.
"Seems peaceful enough," Crichton commented quietly.
"So do I when I want to," Aeryn responded.
Crichton snorted a response. They hesitated when a woman approached them. Aeryn stiffened defensively. Crichton put a warning hand on her arm. "Wait."
The woman came right up to them without pausing and smiled warmly. "Welcome, John Crichton, to Carthis. I've been expecting you."
Aeryn and Crichton exchanged startled glances. "How does she know who you are, John?"
"Wish I could tell you," Crichton said through his teeth, as he smiled at the woman. "Have we met before?"
"Not until this moment. I am Rhenna."
"If you've never met this man before, then how could you possibly be expecting him?" Aeryn demanded.
"Because I am to show him his deepest desire," Rhenna responded equably.
"Excuse me?" Crichton prompted.
"John Crichton, you are far from home and lost," Rhenna announced serenely.
"I don't believe this," Aeryn muttered. "We're on a world of bloody fortune tellers. Come on, John, let's get out of here."
Aeryn turned to go. Crichton didn't follow. She turned back. He stood mesmerized by Rhenna. Aeryn shrugged, she couldn't see the attraction. "John?"
"You go ahead, Aeryn," Crichton said slowly. "I think I'm going to stay here."
"Come with me, John Crichton. We have much to do."
Without looking back at Aeryn, Crichton took the hand Rhenna held out to him. She led him away from the transport. Aeryn watched, absolutely speechless. She turned back to the transport.
"Pilot, can you hear me?" she asked into her communicator.
"Yes, Aeryn Sun. Is everything all right?" Pilot immediately asked.
"We've lost Crichton, Pilot. I could use some help down here," Aeryn explained vaguely.
"What's happened?" Zahaan's voice suddenly asked.
"I'm not sure, but a woman has led him off to who knows where. I'm going to follow, but this woman has him totally entranced. Zahaan you might be more able to get him away from here."
"On my way, Aeryn."
Aeryn sighed as she broke the connection and set off after Crichton and Rhenna.
Rhenna led Crichton through the streets of the moderate sized town. Crichton looked around him as she led on. The streets and buildings reminded him of the Middle East on Earth, without the desert. The buildings were all sandstone block, but doorways and windows bloomed brilliantly with potted plants and flowers. Trees grew in great profusion. People moved about purposefully, in light brightly colored clothes.
Crichton finally took a good, long look at Rhenna. She wasn't quite as tall as Aeryn, nor as dramatic looking. She had flowing blond hair done up in an intricate style. The shimmering blues and purples of her softly draped outfit accentuated her medium build and deep tan. Though he preferred Aeryn's more dramatic looks and temperament, Rhenna seemed to have something his soul needed.
"Just in here, John Crichton," Rhenna said, stopping in a specific doorway. She smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling.
Something in his mind protested. The cautious portion of his soul told him to run away, get back to the transport. Back to Moya. He listened long enough to hesitate.
A sad echo flashed in Rhenna eyes. "It's all right, John Crichton. The Dreamers brought us together. I can help you."
"With what?" Crichton asked, puzzled.
"You've Dreamed recently. Haven't you?"
"Yeah, so? My race dreams a lot."
"But this Dream would have seemed nearly real. As if you were there and remembered in vivid detail."
"Okay..." Crichton responded slowly.
"Very likely about your home. The one lost to you," Rhenna continued. "More specifically about what happened just before you left your home to come here, except it wasn't quite the same."
"I...how..."
"The Dreamers give the Dream to the Facilitator. That would be me," Rhenna replied. She had the door open and was pulling Crichton inside. He didn't resist...much.
"What will you do? As a Facilitator?" he asked. He looked around the house. It was comfortably furnished with overstuffed chairs and cushions. The interior was dim, lit only by natural light, and cool.
"I can take you home, John Crichton, if only for a short time."
"What?!" The color drained from his face, and he felt his knees about to buckle.
Rhenna got him to a cushion and seated before he fell down. "Are you all right, John Crichton?"
"John. It's just John."
"What is just John?"
"My name. Please just call me John."
"As you wish."
Crichton looked up at Rhenna. Hope and despair warred in his blue eyes. "You can send me home?"
"For a time," Rhenna answered, trying to block out his strangled tone. "I can show you through the Dream what happened around your leaving. I can restore your hope of your return home one day, and I can facilitate you saying what needs to be said."
"But you can't leave me there?" Crichton pleaded.
"It doesn't quite work that way. You'll understand when this is over."
Before anything else could be said, there was an insistent pounding on the door. Rhenna left Crichton long enough to answer the door. She was pushed back into the room by a less than happy Aeryn Sun followed by Zahaan. Aeryn held Rhenna at bay with her pulse rifle. Rhenna ignored the rifle.
"John, are you all right?" Zahaan asked quickly, going over to him. She searched his face for her own answers.
"He better have not come to harm," Aeryn warned Rhenna. She stood firm, all Peacekeeper Commando, for all the good it did.
"She says she can send me home for a little while. To...to put things in order..." Crichton answered Zahaan dully.
"Will you let her?" Zahaan asked quietly. "We've been made similar promises before, John, which resulted in unpleasant consequences."
"I don't know. Maybe it would be all right to go and come back. Reassure my dad everything's okay. That I'm alive out here. See if they even missed me. But to be that close and to not get to stay...I don't know. I do want to go home."
"Whatever you decide, John, we will stand by you, but ask yourself this, how do you know you can trust this woman? Keeping in mind our joint histories."
"Now you sound like Aeryn."
"I heard that," Aeryn never once took her eyes or her rifle off Rhenna.
"I need to think about it, Zahaan."
Rhenna gestured expansively, continuing to ignore the weapon. "I apologize for overwhelming you, John. Yes, you must come to your own decision regarding the Facilitation. Until you reach your decision, you and your friends are welcome to remain here. My home is yours for the length of your stay on Carthis. Please rest. Refresh yourselves in whatever manner you desire. I will bring food and drink. The bath is through the far door. The gardens are walled for absolute privacy. You will not be disturbed. Call if you need me."
Rhenna swept out of the room. Aeryn finally let the rifle fall. She narrowed her eyes at the empty doorway. "And how will you hear us, if our privacy is ensured? Listening devices in the potted plants?" Aeryn turned to her friends. "So what do we do now?"
"I need to think," Crichton answered roughly, his voice harsh with emotion. "I'm going for a walk."
Crichton headed out into the garden. Aeryn started to follow him. Zahaan stopped her. "Don't, Aeryn. Let him go."
"But we don't know anything about this place. He could be walking right into danger," Aeryn argued.
"True, but he could also be walking right into Truth."
That stopped Aeryn cold. She turned on Zahaan in confused agitation. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, we leave him be. This is John's decision to make. Not ours."
"But why? Why him? Why not one of the rest of us? We all want to go home as badly as he does. At least those of us with homes to return to."
Rhenna returned with a tray of food and beverages. She looked around for Crichton. A puzzled look passed over her carefully serene features. It was gone in an instant, but not before Aeryn and Zahaan saw it.
"He's in the garden," Zahaan provided. "He needed to think."
Rhenna nodded absently to herself and left without a word. Aeryn looked at Zahaan. "Still think she's no threat to us?"
"To us or to John?"
Crichton walked the gardens without seeing them. He finally stopped by a small, rock-lined waterfall surrounded by strangely familiar trees. He perched on a nearby rock and stared at the water. It was oddly soothing to his chaotically running mind.
"I find myself returning to this place often myself," a voice broke into his thoughts.
Crichton didn't even look up. "I wanted to be alone."
"Somehow, I don't think so," Rhenna replied, coming up next to him. "You want to be home."
"Now you're a mind reader? Not even Zahaan makes that presumption," he snorted.
"Why is it so hard to trust, John?" Rhenna asked. "Why is it so difficult to believe?"
"Because every time I've tried since being shot through the wormhole, it's come back to bit me in the butt."
"Even your shipmates on Moya?"
Crichton looked up then. "Yeah, sometimes."
"Is part of your fear that no one on your home planet has even missed you or cares you're gone?" Rhenna asked gently.
Crichton stared at her for a moment, as if the thought were completely foreign to him. Then he seemed to crumple from the inside, as he finally admitted to himself his worst, unspoken fear in one barely inaudible word. "Yes."
"That is why you have been brought to me, John Crichton. I can help you with that one fear. Then perhaps you can believe in something or someone again." Rhenna held out her hand to him. "Trust me, John, just this one time."
Crichton met her eyes and slowly took her hand. "What do I do?"
Rhenna smiled then. "Look at the water and listen to my voice."
Crichton wasn't sure when or how it happened, but suddenly he was back on Earth, in the bar the day before his flight. But something was different this time. The girl in his dream wasn't there, and wasn't that himself sitting at the bar?
"We are here as observers only, John," Rhenna's voice sounded, almost in his mind. "You cannot change what is to happen, but you can see what occurred."
"Great," John muttered. "I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present."
"What?"
"Nothing," John said, moving through the bar. Something was off. There had been a woman, an Olga Something Russian, and a man. Hadn't there?
"What you remember has not yet actually occurred," Rhenna's voice came again.
"Are you in my mind, now?" Crichton demanded. "And how could that not have happened yet?"
"You will see."
Crichton snorted and went over to his other self and sat down by him at the bar. "Hey, buddy," he told himself. "If you only knew what you were about to get yourself into..."
The bartender came over. "Hey, Commander, you want another drink?"
"Wish I could, but I'm flying tomorrow," the other Crichton said, pushing away from the bar.
"I wouldn't mind one. I could use one right about now," Crichton said to no one in particular. He reached out and his hand passed through the glass on the bar. He jerked back in surprise.
"I thought the government kept all the starjocks sequestered the night before a launch," the bartender was saying.
"I...ah...I know a few ways over the wall," Crichton heard himself say. "See you when I get back."
"Good luck to you, Commander."
Crichton followed himself out of the bar. He was slowly getting used to having people and things moving through him. It was, in a very strange sense, a more efficient means of travel.
"Okay, I know where this ends up," he said, pretty much to himself, since no one else could hear him. "Home and sleep before the mission."
The next thing he knew, Crichton was standing in the launch control room. It was the next day, and he was watching his suited body getting into his vehicle and the hatch sealed behind him. He wandered through the control room, listening to the chatter.
"Engineering, go for launch?"
"Engineering is go for launch."
"Life support, go for launch?"
"Life support is go for launch."
"Communications, go for launch?"
"Communications is go for launch."
"Capsule, go for launch?"
Crichton heard his own voice. "Capsule is go for launch."
"Are we confirmed go for launch?"
"I confirm we are go for launch," another familiar voice announced.
Crichton whirled, looking for the owner of the voice. There! On the upper level by the launch controller! Jack Crichton, his father! "Dad!" Crichton cried, even though he knew his father couldn't hear him. "Dad! I'm here! I'm right here!"
"Then we launch on my mark at T Minus one minute and counting."
"Dad! No! Don't let them launch!" Crichton cried futilely.
"Good luck, son."
"Thanks, Dad," Crichton's other voice came back. "Shouldn't be gone too long."
"Ten, nine, eight, seven..."
"Oh, Dad, if I'd only known!" Crichton said, not watching the launch, but his father.
"Four, three, two, one. We have lift off."
Crichton didn't watch the displays or listen to the chatter. He watched his father. He was right there next to him when D.K. told him to abort. He was there when the wormhole opened and sucked his ship in. He was there when the ship disappeared off the screens and communication was lost. Tears welled up in Crichton's eyes as he saw the pain and anguish in his father's face.
"Get him back!" Jack cried. "Now!"
"We're trying, Jack!" D.K. replied. "I'm sorry, sir, he's gone. The ship, everything, it's gone."
"There's got to be something! Check again!"
"We are, Jack! The sensors showed a huge gravitational well appearing in the vicinity of the ship just after that electromagnetic wave."
"A gravity well? What kind of gravity well? There shouldn't be anything like that where he was. There was nothing out there!"
"I know, sir, but look for yourself."
Crichton looked with his father. "Yup, that's my wormhole, all right."
"Get another ship up! We can follow him!"
"I'm sorry, Jack, we can't do that."
"What do you mean, we can't? That's my son out there!"
"I understand that, Jack, but even if we had another ship ready to launch right now, it would be too late."
"Explain."
"He's right, Dad," Crichton admitted sadly. "It is too late. I'm on the other side of the universe by now."
"The well is gone now. The...whatever it was...it sealed itself up not long after the Commander's ship went through it."
"Yes, but exactly what is it?"
"Best guess, Jack?"
"Shoot."
"We just saw a wormhole."
"Wormholes are merely theoretical. There's no proof they actually exist," Jack said dully.
"Granted, Jack, but to the best of the theories, that is exactly what a wormhole would be."
"Then why don't we follow him?"
"Because you know as well as I do, Jack, he could be anywhere in the universe by now. Depending on where the other end of this wormhole ends up."
"You wouldn't believe where I ended up, Dad," Crichton replied. "Even if I could tell you."
Jack Crichton set his jaw. "Excuse me, I have a phone call to make."
"What are you going to do, Jack?"
"I'm going to get my son back," Jack replied.
"Jack?"
"Dad?" Crichton echoed, as he followed his father out of the room. "What are you doing, Dad? Who could you possibly call to fix this?"
Once Jack Crichton's office door was closed behind him, Jack pulled a slip of paper out of his wallet. He dialed the number. Crichton looked over his father's shoulder. "Who are you calling, Dad?"
"This is Jack Crichton. I have a serious problem that needs serious help."
Within the hour Crichton followed his father onto a military jet transport. "Where are we going, Dad?"
The answer to the question was the middle of nowhere. A young Navy captain in a Jeep met the transport. He shook hands with Jack. Crichton looked at him, puzzledly - there was something vaguely familiar about him.
"It's good to see you again, sir," Captain Craig Donovan said, smiling at Crichton, Senior.
"And you, Craig. It's been a long time."
"What brings you out to our neck of the woods, sir? Last I heard you were with the space program. And we don't normally get personal pitches for a Backstep."
"Backstep?" Crichton asked, even though no one could hear him. "What's going on here?"
"If you don't mind, Craig, I'd rather only go through it once. It's very difficult for me."
"Understood, sir. Come with me, please."
They ended up in a vast underground installation Crichton had no idea even existed. He was drawn to the huge geodesic sphere in an elaborate scaffold. "Wow. What is that thing?"
"She is something, isn't she?" Donovan asked, seeing awe on Crichton's father's face.
"Absolutely. Come on, Dr. Talmadge and the others are waiting."
Crichton followed. He stopped in shock and pointed at Olga and Parker. "I know her, and you! You're the ones in my dream! What's going on here?"
"What is going on here?" Parker echoed, causing Crichton to pay attention.
"Three days ago the United States, in conjunction with Australia and several other countries, prepared to launch Earth's first long range, manned space vehicles using a theory of using the planet's gravity to increase speed. Late yesterday, local time, that ship was pulled into a wormhole and lost."
"But wormhole are theoretical," Dr. Ballard protested, easing his wheelchair closer. "No proof has ever been established that they exist."
"We have that proof now," Jack sighed. "To the regrettable loss of our ship and its pilot. I have the tapes."
Talmadge stepped up then. "The President and several other Heads of State have petitioned for a Backstep to stop this even from occurring. The vehicle and its pilot are too valuable to lose."
"Really?" Crichton asked. "I had no idea. I'm flattered, but how is this possible?"
"Not to mention the opportunity to know when a wormhole is going to occur so we can study it," Ballard added.
"Well, there's that too," Crichton admitted grudgingly.
"Mr. Parker, you will Backstep to Canaveral. Once you are there, you will have every assistance you could possibly wish to keep this event from occurring. We go as soon as we can get the sphere ready. Okay, people, let's move."
The Backstep Team scattered. Shortly thereafter, Crichton stood with his father in the Backstep control room. Jack stood with Talmadge, in utter awe.
"I thought we were making progress in exploring Space. You're actually exploring Time."
"Time?" Crichton exclaimed. "That's what this is all about? Someone's going back in time? For me?"
"Sure, we've made practical strides, Jack, but we're still limited to seven days. And we're still not certain how many of these Backsteps we'll be able to make. Which is why we're limited to the major upheavals."
"I understand, and you don't know how grateful I am," Jack replied.
"The ship is that important?"
"To the space program, yes, but the pilot is more important to me, personally," Jack answered. Talmadge looked at him questioningly. "He's my son."
Talmadge turned away from the tears glittering in Jack Crichton's eyes. John Crichton could not. Of course, he knew his father loved him, but never quite knew the extent. The tears in his father's eyes were mirrored in his own. John Crichton let them run down his face. No one could see him anyway. Both Crichtons watched in fascination as propulsion, the reactor, and timing systems were brought on-line.
John moved forward in interest as Frank Parker emerged in his suit. It was similar to his own. He stopped at the wall.
"Do not forget, you are not constrained to the normal laws of physics you are accustomed to," Rheena's voice echoed in his head. "You may go anywhere within the Dreaming."
Crichton looked around skeptically, then slowly eased a hand through the wall. When he met no resistance, he passed through and followed Parker into the sphere.
Parker was already strapped into his seat, helmet on. He programmed the sphere's timing element and location coordinates. Crichton watched in interest. He could hear Olga's instructions and systems updates along with Parker. "Reactor at 95%. 100%. 115%. Initiate Backstep."
Parker slammed the launch button and held on for dear life as he was hurtled backward in time. Crichton was glad he couldn't feel the punishing G-Forces so visible within the sphere. Then, just as quickly, the sphere came to a halt. Parker powered everything down, left his helmet behind, grabbed his bag and hurried out of the sphere.
Crichton followed, amazed to find them in Florida, in the range just beyond the beach, not far from the launch site. Parker pulled out a phone and dialed.
"Yeah, this is Parker. I'm in Canaveral. Yes, Florida. From what I know, I'm supposed to stop a manned deep space ship from launching. Something about it being sucked into a wormhole just after it leaves orbit. Don't tell me wormholes don't exist! I'm just the messenger, and I'm going to need help. Olga and Donovan are perfect. Just get 'em here quick."
Parker hung up the phone and headed into town. Crichton followed. "This isn't going to be easy, you know, they're going to be stubborn," he told Parker. "Why am I telling you? You can't hear me."
Parker made a beeline for the Launch Pad. Crichton smiled when he saw it again. After checking out the place, and having a quick beer, Parker found a nearby hotel and checked in. Even with the resources at the project's disposal, it would still take a couple of hours for Donovan and Olga to join him. He would get what little rest he could before they were thrown into the thick of the fray.
Crichton recognized the hotel. "Hey! This is the place Dad and I use to run away from the space program. I thought it looked familiar. I wonder if this guy..."
Parker immediately went for a beer and the television remote. He flung himself on the bed and started surfing.
"Yep, my kind of guy."
Parker was relaxed when Donovan and Olga showed up, but far from drunk. Parker had very responsibility limited himself to the one beer. Even Crichton had allowed himself to drift during the down time. He remembered wondering idly if it were possible to sleep while Dreaming. But once activity began, Crichton was right there.
They decided to split up to cover more ground. Donovan was sent to the IASA Center to try to talk to Jack Crichton and the military advisors about putting off the launch until the wormhole disintegrated.
"It won't work!" Crichton tried to tell them, even though he knew it was pointless. "They won't believe you! Wormholes aren't supposed to exist! They'll throw budgetary concerns at you, too!"
"Olga and I will hit the Launch Pad," Parker was saying.
"What is that?" Olga asked.
"It's a bar," Parker began
"A bar? Mr. Parker we are..."
"Stop, Olga. Yes, it's a bar. A bar where everyone from the IASA space center seems to gather to unwind. It might be the best place to find Crichton."
"Why me? Am I bait?" Olga demanded.
"We're a team, not a fishing expedition. Besides, which one of us do you think he's going to be more likely to talk to? You or me?"
"He's got a point, Olga," Donovan agreed.
"Oh, all right."
Crichton went with Parker and Olga. He had a feeling he knew what was about to happen, but he wanted to see for himself. Especially since he knew Donovan's task was pointless.
The Launch Pad was comfortably full with clumps of co-workers from the space center. John Crichton sat at the bar nursing his one drink. He winked at the beautiful brunette at the end of the bar. She nodded at him once and promptly forgot him. Crichton went back to his drink.
"Can I get you anything else, Commander Crichton?" the bartender asked, picking up the empty glass and wiping down the bar.
"Not right now, Tony."
Another attractive woman slid onto the barstool next to him. "Can I buy you a drink, Commander Crichton?"
"Wait! I've been here!" the Dreaming Crichton exclaimed. "This was my first dream! Boy, are you in for a surprise, buddy boy!"
The question from the woman brought John Crichton up short. He finally took a real good look at her. She had a n exotic accent and showed a generous amount of leg.
"Have we met?" he asked.
"Boy, are you really in trouble!" Crichton crowed.
"Not yet. I'm Olga Vukavitch, Dr. Vukavitch, and I"m going to be the best friend you've ever had, Dr. Crichton."
"Excuse me?"
"Believe her," Crichton told himself.
"I'd take her up on that drink, if I were you, Commander," a male voice said from his other side.
Crichton (both of them) turned. "Who are you?"
"Frank Parker," Crichton answered his own question.
"I'm with her. Frank Parker. I'm her friend, and we're here to make sure you come back from your mission six days from now."
"What? Look, I don't know who you guys are, but you're treading on some pretty thin ice."
"If you'll just come with us, Dr. Crichton, we can explain everything," Olga told him.
"I'm not going anywhere with you two. You're nuts."
"You're being a fool," Crichton told himself.
"I'd listen to the lady if I were you, Dr. Crichton. Dr. Vukavitch knows what she's talking about. Frankly, so do I, but you're more likely to listen to her than you are to me. And trust me, you don't want to be talking about this here."
Olga put a hand gently on Crichton's arm. "Please, Dr. Crichton. We wouldn't be here if it weren't vital to your mission."
"And that's no understatement," Crichton muttered. It was echoed by Parker.
After much cajoling, coaxing, and downright threatening, Crichton was finally convinced of their sincerity and urgency. Olga and Parker got him out of the bar and back to the hotel. Donovan was waiting for them, pacing in frustration. Jack Crichton was with Donovan. He looked doubtful.
"It's about time!" Donovan exclaimed when Parker and Olga entered. "Did you find..."
Crichton followed the other two into the room and answered Donovan's question. The Dreaming Crichton followed everyone. Both John Crichtons chorused, "Dad!"
Jack Crichton got to his feet and went to his son. "We need to listen to these folks, John."
"How'd they get to you?"
"Commander Donovan, Craig, is an old friend of mine. We met at some training program, right?"
"Something like that," Donovan agreed vaguely.
Parker let it go right on by. He knew Donovan had been involved in a lot of things he couldn't talk about. Parker didn't even want to know about a lot of them. He wasn't about to ask about most of it. The only thing he could do was change the subject and get people back on track.
"What did you tell him?" Parker asked Donovan.
"Only what I had to," Donovan answered. "But I think we can tell them everything. I think we should. If they don't have clearance, who does?"
Parker and Olga looked at each other and nodded. Olga stepped forward. "What do you gentleman know about the existence of wormholes?"
"I take it you're not talking about the fishing kind of worms," Crichton replied. The Dreaming Crichton went to slap his other self in the head. His hand passed through. Crichton shivered a bit, as if he felt something.
"No, I'm talking about spatial wormholes."
"Except for fictional accounts, wormholes have never been proven to exist. The Einstein-Rosen Bridge is all wildly theoretical, and impossible to predict. They require vast amounts of energy to create and even more to remain stable."
"What if we told you, Commander," Olga went on. "That in six days, just as your module, Farscape 1, leaves the atmosphere, your ship will be struck by an electromagnetic wave, sucked into a wormhole, and vanish?"
"I'd say you'd been enjoying too much good Russian vodka, Dr. Vukavitch," Crichton answered.
"You are such a fool, Crichton," the Dreaming Crichton told himself.
"Why?" Olga asked. "Tell us why."
"Because the technology doesn't exist yet to produce a magnetic field powerful enough to create a wormhole, nor is it possible to open a gravitational well large enough to get a ship into. And if we could, all indications are the wormholes would collapse as soon as a ship enters."
"What is all this?" Jack Crichton demanded. "You're talking like you know this going to happen."
"Because, Colonel," Donovan began. "We do know this is going to happen."
"What?" father and son chorused.
Jack Crichton narrowed his eyes at Donovan. "I've heard rumors. Friends of mine in Washington posing hypothetical questions and playing what if games about time travel.... Are you telling me you can actually travel through time?"
"Actually, sir," Donovan replied with a slight grin. "I'm trying very hard not to tell you that. Though I can honestly say I do not travel in time."
"Then it would have to be you, Mr. Parker," Jack Crichton said. "Dr. Yukavitch is too much of a scientist to be the hotdog."
"Hey!" Parker and the Dreaming Crichton protested.
"Now you know our secret, which is one of the better kept ones in the government, you have to delay the launch or scrub the mission," Olga said. "If you launch the module in six days, it will be lost in a wormhole, possibly forever, with Commander Crichton on board."
John Crichton started to pace the hotel room, his expression showing the intense activity in his brain. "To have proof of wormholes..." He looked up. "You said if I launched in six days I would be lost. Right?"
"Right." Parker's tone was suspicious. Crichton didn't seem to be the type to give in easily or quickly.
"Why delay?" Crichton asked eagerly. "Why not to go up early? We're pretty much ready now. We should be able to go in two or three days. We can do it."
The Backstep Team looked at each other and didn't know what to say. Olga made a half-hearted objection. "Commander, we don't know how long before your flight the wormhole conditions existed. We only know, shortly after your launch it opened, and you were pulled inside. When it closed, it couldn't be reopened."
"Then it's a crap shoot either way, Dr. Vukavitch, just like everything else in life. That wormhole could open up early or late. I say, let's go early. See what happens, because I sure as hell ain't scrubbing this mission. We've done too much work and gone too far."
For a moment there was a stare down. Then everyone relaxed. Olga looked from father to son. "Then perhaps we can avoid an incident, knowing what to look for."
"I can accept that. Dad?" Jack Crichton nodded. John Crichton turned back to Olga. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Vukavitch."
"Olga."
"John."
Parker silently fumed, refusing to admit to any feelings of jealously. Not that he needed to bother. John Crichton had just ended a serious relationship. She'd taken a job at Stanford. He was going to outer space. The ring he'd bought her was in its box in the bottom of his underwear drawer where no one would ever see it. He figured a spin around the solar system would clear his head.
The next few days went by in a blur. Everyone who knew was trying to pinpoint what or where the wormhole should be. There was no evidence of the wormhole, and no reason to delay the revised launch date. Even D.K. had been skeptical of the whole thing, no matter what Crichton tried to tell him.
Finally there was no putting it off. Crichton was sealed in his module and ready to go. The last tests for the wormhole had come up negative, despite their best efforts. Parker, Olga, and Donovan continued to argue their case to the very end. The launch was a go.
The Dreaming Crichton was with the rest as the capsule was launched, was hit by the gravitational pull of the wormhole, and once more sucked into the vortex that would spit him out on the other side of the universe. Everyone stood in stunned silence, including Crichton, who couldn't believe he was witnessing this again.
"No!" Jack Crichton cried. "We've got to get him back!"
"We can't."
Those two worlds silenced the room and hung there. Jack Crichton whirled on the Backstep Team. "You went back once! Do it again!"
"I'm sorry, sir, we can't," Olga replied gently.
"Why not?"
"We can only go back a finite number of times, sir. We tried once, I guess some things cannot be undone."
Crichton reached out to his father, even though he could not know. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm trying my best to find a way home. But Dad, if you could see where I've been and what I've done...well, some of it would turn your stomach, but some of it is really cool."
Rhenna suddenly appeared next to him. Crichton wasn't even surprised. He barely turned. "It's time to go back."
"Yes, the Dreaming is ending," Rhenna replied. "You have seen what was and your unnamed fear."
"Excuse me?"
"That no one cared you'd gone. That you never got to say goodbye. You have one last chance. There are still a few moments left. Go now."
Rhenna gently pushed Crichton toward his father. Crichton went to him and wrapped his arms around the older man, even though Jack couldn't feel it. "I love you, Dad. I will come back. I promise."
Jack Crichton bowed his head a moment then looked up. Crichton thought he looked into his eyes. But when he spoke, it was to the whole room.
"This isn't over! My son is coming home!"
John Crichton awoke with a start. Rhenna was gone. He looked around in confusion, and got to his feet. He was still trying to figure things out when Aeryn and Zahaan found him.
"Are you all right?" Aeryn demanded.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "I'm...I'm fine."
"What did she do to you?"
"I...she...she sent me home," John said, puzzled.
"What? How?" Aeryn demanded.
Even Zahaan looked concerned. "John, we've only been here an hour."
"I'm telling you. I was there. I was home."
"And now you're here, and I suggest we leave," Aeryn said, heading for the door.
"No. I have to thank Rhenna first."
"For what?"
"I always wondered what happened after I left. If anyone cared."
"And you don't anymore?" Zahaan asked. "Is that what you saw? What Rhenna showed you?"
"She showed me what might have been. Now, I have something to check on when I get back."
Crichton passed Aeryn and Zahaan and headed back into his life. Not the life he should've had, or might have had, but the one he lived.