Part 1: What is Hope
He loved her beyond all hope and she ripped out his heart and through it back at him. True Peacekeeper style. What hope he had was gone now.
Three Arns Later
John sat in the center chamber writing in his journal and reciting figures under his breath. His painted mechanical companion was playing a tune that he had taught it sometime back. One of his hands started to wave, conducting the last section of music. He jumped up excitedly. "Einstein was right! This is the answer I've been looking for."
Less then a cycle ago while Crichton had been space walking, a safe distance from Moya, testing his newfound ability to predict wormhole activity. Einstein, an unnamed species, had taken John through a wormhole into a nexus between his universe and another. It appeared they feared his advancing ability to predict and traverse wormholes. He was also taught that the Ancients were part of a mysterious species from a parallel universe, or another dimension. And it was there that John learned the complete truth - the dangers of disrupting space-time. It could result in a cataclysmic redefinition of the precise mathematical harmony that defined the universe that John lived in. Without understanding the implications or not being able to control the situations.the big bang would be rated a small pop.or in layman terms it would screw the pooch royally.
So here John sat working on the equations, as the floodgate of wormhole knowledge came through. It's not like he had anyone or thing to keep his mind off of it. It gave him a focus, something to hold onto.
"Commander, we have arrived at Nextureus. I would recommend you wait until late noon," Pilot's voice came over the comms.
'Why's that, Pilot?" He asked, pausing from his work.
"The twin suns are very dangerous, even for you. Once on planet you will find that commerce is in subterranean complexes."
"How long do I need to wait?"
"Four arns at lease. I will have a transport pod made ready for you."
"Thanks pilot I'll be in my quarters until then." John left the center chamber, once more humming under his breath.
Four Arns Later:
There was nothing special about this planet. Lately he had started thinking that about all the commerce planets he had been on. When had he become so jaded that he lost his amazement of what the universe had to present? John Crichton had to grow-up. The naive human wanted to survive so he adapted. Abandoned, he had to fend for himself. Without hope. Without backup. A new layer had been added to John Crichton. Shrugging off the past, he made his way over to what looked like the local bar.
Pilot had given him the local news, warnings and customs of the planet so he could stay safe. He went down the stairs that lead to an underground complex, which ran for many metras in all directions. Going up to a bar he ordered his toxin. Spotting a booth in the back corner facing toward the entranceway, he sat down and took a sip. He scrutinized the patrons, hoping no one would show interest in him. John defined his luck in units of small mercies. Relief would come when he could enjoy a quiet drink. Everyone kept to themselves. Still alert he leaned back into his seat enjoying his drink.
Then it happened. A shiver ran down his back, the hair on the back of his head stood on end as he looked at the entrance..
He loved her beyond all hope and she ripped out his heart and through it back at him. True Peacekeeper style. What hope he had was gone now.
Three Arns Later
John sat in the center chamber writing in his journal and reciting figures under his breath. His painted mechanical companion was playing a tune that he had taught it sometime back. One of his hands started to wave, conducting the last section of music. He jumped up excitedly. "Einstein was right! This is the answer I've been looking for."
Less then a cycle ago while Crichton had been space walking, a safe distance from Moya, testing his newfound ability to predict wormhole activity. Einstein, an unnamed species, had taken John through a wormhole into a nexus between his universe and another. It appeared they feared his advancing ability to predict and traverse wormholes. He was also taught that the Ancients were part of a mysterious species from a parallel universe, or another dimension. And it was there that John learned the complete truth - the dangers of disrupting space-time. It could result in a cataclysmic redefinition of the precise mathematical harmony that defined the universe that John lived in. Without understanding the implications or not being able to control the situations.the big bang would be rated a small pop.or in layman terms it would screw the pooch royally.
So here John sat working on the equations, as the floodgate of wormhole knowledge came through. It's not like he had anyone or thing to keep his mind off of it. It gave him a focus, something to hold onto.
"Commander, we have arrived at Nextureus. I would recommend you wait until late noon," Pilot's voice came over the comms.
'Why's that, Pilot?" He asked, pausing from his work.
"The twin suns are very dangerous, even for you. Once on planet you will find that commerce is in subterranean complexes."
"How long do I need to wait?"
"Four arns at lease. I will have a transport pod made ready for you."
"Thanks pilot I'll be in my quarters until then." John left the center chamber, once more humming under his breath.
Four Arns Later:
There was nothing special about this planet. Lately he had started thinking that about all the commerce planets he had been on. When had he become so jaded that he lost his amazement of what the universe had to present? John Crichton had to grow-up. The naive human wanted to survive so he adapted. Abandoned, he had to fend for himself. Without hope. Without backup. A new layer had been added to John Crichton. Shrugging off the past, he made his way over to what looked like the local bar.
Pilot had given him the local news, warnings and customs of the planet so he could stay safe. He went down the stairs that lead to an underground complex, which ran for many metras in all directions. Going up to a bar he ordered his toxin. Spotting a booth in the back corner facing toward the entranceway, he sat down and took a sip. He scrutinized the patrons, hoping no one would show interest in him. John defined his luck in units of small mercies. Relief would come when he could enjoy a quiet drink. Everyone kept to themselves. Still alert he leaned back into his seat enjoying his drink.
Then it happened. A shiver ran down his back, the hair on the back of his head stood on end as he looked at the entrance..