Where to start?
Well perhaps we should first lay down categorically that Commander Crichton of the Battlestar Hermes never existed. Never in no mater the permutation, or distortion or the warped reflection of reality that may or may not have existed had there ever been a man with that name in command of a ship of that class at this time. It just never happened and was never going to happen. No matter how many alternative and diverging universes, even if in a infinite megaverse there was supposed to be at least one universe where everything and indeed anything happened at least once, no, not this. But the megaverse didn't actually work that way, so it really wasn't that surprising. Regardless no Colonial Warrior named Crichton had ever commanded a Battlestar named Hermes at this point in history, ever.
There was however a Commander John Crichton, former IASA astronaut and physicist/engineer test pilot of the Farscape module and now the very lost most wanted fugitive in the Uncharted Territories. John Crichton was hunted by both the Scarran Empire and Peacekeeper High Command for reasons beyond his control and was a man who had just recently received frustratingly cryptic lessons in navigating unrealised realities space and possibly time via wormholes. The trick was as much about absolute focus as it was about ridiculously convoluted high level mathematics and whatever that little bit extra the wormhole aliens had for some reason gifted him with.
I'm sure you can see where this is going, but maybe if we add that John Crichton had spent some time as a teenager sitting with his dying mother in hospital escaping into his imagination watching a sci/fi adventure drama television show called Battlestar Galactica, it would become clear.
For one split second, as John Crichton manoeuvred himself back to his own reality navigating the limitless wormhole network form the stolen moment the alien Einstien had created to teach him back to his friends in the real universe, he lost it. Instantly his mind was crowded to bursting with a myriad of images echo's of unrealised realities lives he'd never lived and baring the most unlikely of circumstances could never have lived. More crowded with the minds of all those Crichton's that never were. Only a second before he locked it all down and got back on track, but enough.
One of those Crichton's, a far distant Crichton was thinking of a very strange place, one where some believed that life here began out there, far across the universe, with tribes of humans who may have been the forefathers of the Egyptians, or the Toltecs, or the Mayans. Some believe that there may yet be brothers of man who even now fight to survive somewhere beyond the heavens.
Mirrors reflecting the reflection of mirrors, it gets pretty strange after a while.
oooo0000/\0000oooo
Colonel Torin's hand shot out by pure reflex, grabbing the arm of the man standing next to her, steadying him, as he seemed to suddenly stumble.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
Her commanding officer looked confused for a second, looking at her as if they'd never even met before, then throwing a wild glance around the bridge of his Battlestar. Taking in the banks of consoles, the crewmembers working at their stations and the giant window open to the view of space. Hermes older sister, the mighty Battlestar Galactica, was as large as life in formation ahead of them the Hermes was cruising above her giving an impressive view of the battleship carrier hybrids massive hull. Slowly, as if against his will, Crichton walked forward. Forcing Torins, who was still offering some support to the man's wobbly gate, to match step as he moved nearly dragging her forward, until he was nearly pressing his face against the screen. His eyes locked on the giant white grey ship making its majestic way ahead of them.
"frell"
"I mean frak"
