Chapter 5

The dreamer could see the darkness lifting and brightening in front of his eyes. There were shapes moving about in the fuzzy light but he couldn't make out what they were. The cold was better, too; it was warmer than it had been and it didn't cut through to the core of him like it had before. Before? Before what? He knew there was something he had to do; something he needed to be doing, but he still couldn't remember what it was.

He thought he remembered quakes and shaking of the room around him—although he still couldn't see the room, he could sense—remember?—that he was in a room. A round and small room.

He was hearing something. Something far away, but getting closer. That wasn't right, though, was it? He shouldn't be hearing anything or anyone but he wasn't sure how he knew that, either.

"…son? Profes…? …you hear me?" The voice—and he knew it was a voice now—was easier to make out, but still broken. Like a radio that was losing its reception in a storm. He listened harder and tried to make out what the voice was saying.

"…name is… oy. Can you… me? Professor Robin…" The voice was male; he could tell that now. He wasn't sure why this shouldn't be, but he knew it shouldn't. The voice wasn't supposed to be here. He tried to open his eyes and see who the voice belonged to, but they still wouldn't open. He was still stuck in the warm, light, brightness in this room.

"Professor Robinson? My na… is McCoy. I'm a doc… You're safe… to help you. Can you he… me?" He was doing better understanding the voice, now.

"Ugnh…" His voice, on the other hand, didn't seem to work any better than his eyes did.

"No, professor, don't try to move and don't talk. My name is McCoy. I'm a medical doctor and I'm here to help you. I'm going to give you an injection to help you. You're suffering from prolonged exposure to cryo-hibernation. Do you understand? You have been asleep for a long, long time. This shot will help you." The voice sounded human—and why did that not seem strange? The thought of an unhuman voice didn't seem unusual at all. Not only did the voice sound human, it sounded like it was from the south. Now, that really did seem wrong. Why?

The dreamer—he knew his name was John Robinson, now—heard a hissing sound near his left ear. He felt the pressure on his neck and then felt a cool, soothing wave wash through him. Everywhere the wave touched, felt better. His mind felt sharper and his vision started clearing up much more quickly than it had before.

"No, Professor, don't try to open your eyes yet," at the same time the voice said this, he felt a warm, very soft, and very small hand cover his eyes. The hand definitely didn't go with the voice and felt female.

"Maureen?" His voice was harsh and croaking and cracking. Like it hadn't been used in a thousand years.

"No, Professor Robinson, it's not Maureen. It's my nurse and she's here to help you, too. You're among friends. Scotty? Can you lower the light level in here?" Scotty? Who was that? He knew the voice—McCoy's voice—was clearly talking to someone else. How many people were here with him? Three? The voice, the hand identified as 'nurse', and somebody called 'Scotty'.

"Aye, doc, gimme jus a second," this new voice replied the doctor's voice with—of all things—a Scottish accent. He had to be dreaming! First a voice from the deep south of the United States; then a warm, soft woman's hand; and now a Scottish brogue? A dream was the only explanation. He began to struggle; feebly and ineffectively, he knew, but he wanted up. He needed to be up! Another hand—a twin to the one covering his eyes—pressed down on his chest.

"It's alright, Professor. We're all friends and we're all here to help you and your family. You're still aboard your ship. Everyone is safe. Everyone is alive," the voice spoke reassuringly. It was strange, but he actually did feel better by hearing this last statement. Maureen! She was safe and alive! He felt a weight lift off of his shoulders at knowing this and his struggles calmed and ceased.

"Good, Professor. I'm going to have Nurse Chapel take her hand off of your eyes, now. Scotty dimmed the lights in here so you'll be able to see better. Are you ready? Christine? Go ahead," and with that the hand slowly uncovered his eyes and let him see the people around him.

The first sight that met his eyes was a pretty blond lady in a silver suit of some sort. It reminded him of his own space suit, but it looked more advanced and much more comfortable than his own space suit. The blond had piercing blue eyes from which kindness seemed to pour. Those blue eyes crinkled as her smile came to them and her voice was rich with kindness and compassion as she said, "Welcome back, Professor Robinson. I'm Christine Chapel and I'm a nurse."

"Hello, nurse," Robinson croaked out.

"Professor, I'm Doctor McCoy," the gravely, southern drawl came from Robinson's left. He saw a kindly face; craggy and pock-marked with experiences—some of which were no doubt unpleasant. The glacial blue eyes beneath the thick brows were like those of Nurse Chapel; kind, compassionate, and intelligent. This was the face of a man that would move Heaven and Earth if it meant saving a patient.

Before Robinson could say anything to the doctor, McCoy continued, "I want to introduce you to someone who is anxious to meet you. Professor Robinson, this is Captain Kirk."

Robinson looked to McCoy's left as a third man came into his line of sight. He made a mental note about how his eyesight was improving quickly and decided it was because the illumination in the Jupiter Two was increasing. Looking at the man who had just moved into his field of vision, Robinson didn't need to wonder why he was called 'captain'. This man had an air of authority around him that insisted on—and received—instant obedience. Not necessarily a bad thing, that air; Robinson felt he could trust this man implicitly.

"Good afternoon, Professor Robinson. I'm Captain James T. Kirk, commanding the USS Enterprise. I'm glad to meet you." The voice matched the look of this 'captain'. It was a voice used to command and used to inspiring others to exceed their own very best efforts.

"Captain Kirk. I'm pleased to meet you. Could you, perhaps, tell me what's going on?" Robinson was exceedingly curious to know what was happening. It was something out of the ordinary, he knew. He also knew without looking out of a port or window that he was still in space. He knew that the Jupiter Two hadn't made it back to Earth as he had expected when he and his family went into suspended animation again. It wasn't just that he was still on the Jupiter Two; it was something more than that and it was all subconscious. Of all the microscopic hints and tells that all spelled 'space' the one that leapt to the forefront of his mind was the smell of the air. It didn't have the 'freshness' that a planetary ecology had, but at the same time it was different than the smell and feel the Jupiter Two's air normally had.

"It's a long story, Professor," Kirk began, "and we're not entirely sure of the details yet. My science officer is still studying your logs and records and we're going to need your help to figure it all out."

"Science officer? How many people do you have here Captain Kirk?" Robinson heard something in Kirk's tone that made him ask that question. He had the feeling there were more people on his ship than he had met so far.

"Well, Professor, right this minute I have 8 of my crew here to help you and your family and your ship," Kirk said this matter-of-factly.

"Let me guess," Robinson said as he looked Kirk directly in the eye, "you have twice that many in your ship on the other side of my airlock. Therefore, I must do what you tell me or there will be bad consequences for me and my family. Is that about right?" Why did every alien he met have to try this crap?

"No, Professor, it's not like that at all. Firstly," Kirk began to reassure Robinson, "I don't have 'twice that number' in my ship." Kirk looked at Robinson and held his hands up with the palms forward toward Robinson. "Secondly, my ship isn't 'on the other side of your airlock' like you're thinking. My ship is actually about two kilometers away from your ship. Because of the damage to your ship, we are towing you with our tractor beam. Lastly, I intend no harm to you and your family. I'm here to help you."

Robinson saw that Kirk believed what he was saying, but that didn't necessarily mean what he said was true. Robinson and his family had learned that lesson the hard way in the last 3 years. He wasn't about to just trust Kirk because he spoke in a reassuring manner.

"Look, Professor, I know you have no reason to trust me. I realize you and your family must have had some less than pleasant experiences during your journey. However, we really are here to help you."

"Captain Kirk, do you have any idea how many aliens we have met in the last three years? Do you know how many of them have disguised themselves and hidden their real motives?" Robinson was feeling very much like his own self now. That shot of McCoy's had really done the trick for him. He swung his legs off the acceleration couch and sat up. As he did so, he saw the suspended animation chamber he and Don had made for Doctor Smith. He could see it was still operating and Doctor Smith was still inside. He looked quickly over to the six chambers built along the side of the wall. His was open—obviously since he was outside of it—but the others were still closed and operating. He launched himself off the couch and moved quickly to the wall behind the chambers and ran a quick diagnostic on them. Maureen and the children and Don were still alive and still asleep. The instruments told him that the chambers were on the verge of malfunctioning and in another very few hours his family and his copilot would be dead.

After first checking on his family and ensuring they were safe, he began looking around the rest of the upper level of the Jupiter Two. Everywhere he looked he saw dead instruments. He moved quickly and surely from panel to panel and each one was the same; all the instruments, dials, and indicator lights were dead. There was also a very fine coating of dust on everything. His ship was dead. How could that be? The Jupiter Two had fuel to last for 100 years and the journey home was only supposed to take half that time. What had happened? He looked around and noticed the strange machine hooked up to the suspended animation chambers. The power they were consuming made it evident to Robinson the strange machine was a generator of some sort. Smaller than he'd ever seen before, but it was a generator nonetheless.

"Alright, Captain Kirk, I think it's time you told me what's going on here." He turned and looked at Kirk and the rest of his people. They were all in their silver suits, but none of them were wearing gloves or helmets. He could see their helmets on the deck beneath the astrogator console and he could see their gloves tucked into their suit belts.

"Well, Professor Robinson, it hasn't been three years since your launch," Kirk began.

"I know that, Captain. We started out for Alpha Centauri five years ago."

"No, Professor, it's not been five years, either. Sir, I'm not sure how to tell you this," Kirk hesitated a moment before continuing. He knew this information was going to be hard on the professor. He looked over Robinson's shoulder and saw McCoy and Spock moving to either side of the professor and behind him. He looked Robinson in the eye and continued, "You and your family have been asleep for a bit more than 300 years."

Thank you for reading my first story. I hope you've enjoyed what you've read and I hope you will continue to enjoy the coming chapters. I write in my spare time—What? Spare time? What the heck is that?—so be patient and trust that I'm getting this story out there as fast as I can. Please let me know what you think about it.