PART Three 

Once More Unto the Wormhole

“You know…now I think I know how Frankenstein felt,” John observed, staring at the main viewport in a daze. 

“What…with your nuts in your neck?” Aeryn replied dryly. 

“No, that was the monster!  Frankenstein was the mad scientist--” 

“Oh, right…”  Aeryn nodded slowly, eyes still focused on the flight controls, but quietly sparkling.  “Haven’t you always felt like that?” 

Her husband grunted and shrugged, and went back to staring.  They’d at last returned to space, beautiful and free and limitless, only to find one last obstacle awaiting them, approaching fast from IASA’s base on the moon.  Three modules, not unlike John’s original Farscape One, yet armed like Prowlers.  And all six guns were pointed squarely at the Farscape Seven. 

“This is Lieutenant Xavier Sandsmark of the United States Marines,” a voice crackled up from the comm; the transmission was coming from the lead module.  “You will identify yourselves, and you will not deviate from your present orbit.” 

John leaned into his own transmit button, faking a smile only Aeryn could see anyhow.  “Oh, hey, Lieutenant!  This is Commander John Crichton, flying beside me is my wife, the radiant Lieutenant Commander Aeryn Sun Crichton…is there a problem?” 

Aeryn raised an eyebrow, John shrugged. 

“Actually, I was hoping you could tell us…” answered Sandsmark, too jovially.  “You’re only sixteen days late.” 

“Sixteen…!”  John gasped.  “What day is this, Lieutenant?”  Sandsmark gave the date, and John continued to sputter, until Aeryn elbowed him and he OOF!ed instead. 

“You all right there, Commander?” 

“Yeah, we’re fine, we’re all fine here, now, thank you…and you know what?  I think we may have found the problem.” 

“You have, sir.” 

“Yup, I think so…looks like we suffered a temporal malfunction in conjunction with the wormhole device, caused us to hop forward a couple of weeks.  That froonium, it’ll get you every time, eh?  But hey, that’s why they pay us test pilots the big bucks, right?” 

“If you say so, sir.  Once the solar flares die down we can contact Canaveral, I’m sure this will all be sorted out.  For now, my flight will escort you through your orbital test.  Sandsmark out.” 

The marine modules swooped away from the forward view, peeling off and settling into position surrounding the Farscape-7; one above, one below, one to starboard.  With the Earth hanging to port, only the fore remained marginally clear.  Not that it did them any good; with their lesser mass, the modules would be significantly faster than the Seven.  And then there were those lovely pulse cannons… 

“Damnit, I should’ve known,” John groaned, scrubbing at his face.  “Should’ve seen this coming.  They armed my damn module!” 

“John, YOU armed your damn module,” Aeryn pointed out calmly.  “Including the scout craft in the hold.  Which is one option; one of us could take that, try and lead one or two of them away, confuse them…” 

Crichton shook his head, stubbornly.  “We’re not splitting up, that always just gets us into more trouble…damnit, I don’t believe this!” 

“It’s hardly the first time a military has exploited the technology of others.” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…you’re exactly right.  I know what they’re like, what they’re all like.  I knew how the technology could be adapted, I did it myself.  So why didn’t I know they’d have gunships up here?  I brought them all this knowledge, never even stopped to think they might hide some of the results from me, use it AGAINST me…” 

“John,” Aeryn said softly.  She was squeezing his shoulder, almost but not quite painfully; and her eyes forced him to look at her, burned into his own with the same intensity.  “They didn’t do this for your benefit.  We’ve always known that Earth needed to be ready to defend itself; perhaps this is the first step, perhaps it’s a good thing.  But right now, that doesn’t matter.  And it doesn’t matter that you made a mistake, overlooked this.” 

“But I shouldn’t have…out there, I can’t *afford* to miss things like--” 

“You’re not perfect, John.  I’m not sure I’d want you to be.  But we can worry about that later.  Right now, we have to act.  And I’m only seeing one option.” 

John nodded.  “The ol’ slingshot.  We’re pinned between them and the planet, they’re faster than us, so we use the planet’s gravity to give us a boost, put some distance between us.” 

“That was my thought,” Aeryn agreed.  She began tapping coordinates into the computer, calculating a trajectory.  “Just give me a moment…” 

# 

John and Aeryn Crichton were alive, and Janet Rowling’s boss could only whine about the fact that some other network had broken the news first. 

Blurry satellite pictures of the Farscape-7 escaping the atmosphere, obscured by solar flares.  Hardly Pulitzer material. 

Rowling had managed to land one exclusive—and juicy—angle on the “Farscape Tragedy”, or whatever it was turning out to be, and instead of being congratulated, she was expected to be ahead of every change in the story. 

Thankfully, right now she didn’t care.  The Crichtons were *alive*, and the Farscape-7 had achieved the heavens.  All was as it should be. 

# 

In the family room, the television was on, but the sound was turned off.  The commentators obviously hadn’t a clue what was happening.  The picture was only the same fuzzy few moments of the Farscape’s ascent, over and over, but it didn’t matter.  Everyone had their eyes on the ceiling anyway. 

“Lord, we’re losing him again…” whispered Laurie, blinking against the tears. 

“Not again,” Jack assured them.  “We lost him when he was four years old.  It’s better this way…” 

“Go, Johnny, go…” breathed DK. 

Annie hugged her husband, tight.  “Lord, watch over them…” 

# 

The Farscape-Seven skimmed the Earth, a skipping stone on the largest of ponds, and John squinted as atmospheric friction flared in the viewport.  Like checking your watch at just the wrong angle, bouncing the sun right into your eyes.  Course, he hadn’t been seeing much but the Sun for five years now… 

And she had her eyes firmly on the scanners.  “They’re following,” she announced. 

“Great,” grumbled John.  “They give ‘em my modules, they give ‘em guns AND they teach ‘em my maneuver!” 

“Commander Crichton,” snapped Sandsmark from the comm, “you will desist immediately, and return to your previous vector.” 

“Uh, negative…wish I could,” John called back.  “We seem to have another engine malfunction on our hands here.  If you guys could give us a little breathing room, let us try and lock it down…” 

“Negative, Farscape-Seven…” 

John took a breath, but Aeryn placed a hand over his and shook her head.  He nodded; she’d always been a better liar anyway. 

Yet what she said, firmly but not unreasonably, was, “Lieutenant…this system is experiencing solar flares.  We’ve just initiated a slingshot maneuver, and Commander Crichton and I have had sixteen days to enable our wormhole device.  You know what is about to occur.  If you value your lives as you know them…your families, your homes…you will break off pursuit NOW.” 

Sandsmark hesitated only a telling moment.  “You’re bluffing.  And whatever you’re attempting…don’t.” 

Yet one of his wingmen had already pulled up, letting the slingshot take full effect, shooting away from them like a comet.  The lieutenant made no move to call him back. 

“You had fair warning…” Aeryn muttered darkly, though the comm was no longer on. 

“Aeryn, wait…” John said quietly, though it was his finger which had frozen over the final switch.  His eyes were dazed and lost and far away.  “Can we really do this?  To them?” 

“Ohhhh no you don’t, Crichton!”  Her eyes were big and fierce and blazing.  “You are NOT backing out on me now!” 

“Aeryn, we can’t just take them with us!  That wasn’t part of the…we can’t put them through what…” 

“They’ve made their choice, John,” Aeryn overrode.  “And we’ve made ours.  We can send them right back again, but if we don’t go…we’ve already gone too far.” 

One final moment, then John nodded.  “Right.  You’re right.  We’ve stolen this shuttle.  If we go back, they’ll never let us off-planet again.  Hell, just the paperwork…”  He chuckled grimly, and flipped the switch.  A low rumble began somewhere behind them.  “Atomic batteries to power, turbines to speed…” 

# 

Lieutenant Xavier Sandsmark was doing everything right…which is probably why he got it so wrong. 

His first mistake was to ignore Aeryn Sun Crichton’s warning, and remain close behind the Farscape-Seven.  Penny still flew steadfast by his starboard wing, although Colin had broken off pursuit. 

Time enough to whale on him later, thought Sandsmark.  His second mistake, though a trivial one. 

A few more seconds, and the FS-7 was pulling up, shooting away from the Earth at once unbelievable speed.   

Sandsmark counted down, slowly and silently, from ten…with their much lesser mass, if they followed too soon, they would overshoot their quarry.  “3…2…1…and GO!” 

In perfect synch, the marines peeled away from the planet, and already they were gaining fast on the Farscape-Seven.  “Just hold tight,” he encouraged his wingman.  (Wingwoman?  He’d never quite figured that one out…)  “Just a few more seconds and we’ve got them.”  Mistake number three. 

Right about then, a great big blue swirly thing (as the tech boys liked to call them) blossomed ahead, as if a gigantic invisible sink were draining in the black of space.  The Farscape-Seven vanished inside, and it would only be a matter of moments before Sandsmark himself followed, and Penny.  The slingshot maneuver wouldn’t allow them to change course, even if they wanted to. 

And Sandsmark did not want to.  He wasn’t afraid.  Not of the unknown, not of aliens, not of death, and sure as hell not of duty. 

That was his fourth mistake.  Hopefully it wouldn’t be his last. 

# 

The Farscape-Seven rode the wave…fishtailing, corkscrewing, slipping and sliding down the mighty wormhole.  John Crichton reached up, pressed his palms flat against the low cabin ceiling, and let out a jubilant rebel yell.  As if he were riding the greatest roller coaster ever built.  No…better than a roller coaster.  This ride actually took you someplace. 

Aeryn gave him the obligatory “you are the *strangest* life form…” raised eyebrow. 

Then she leaned back in her seat, shaking out that gorgeous dark hair, and yelled right along with him. 

# 

The wormhole snapped shut with a final satisfied gleam.  The solar flares were fading, and satellites were once more feeding pictures and data to the planet below.  The last of the Farscape marines was blinking away a headache and considering how best to explain what the hell had just happened to his superiors.  It would still be several minutes before anyone down on Earth had the first clue. 

Yet every head in the Crichton home was bowed, every eye squeezed shut, every smile bittersweet. 

“Godspeed, son,” said Jack. 

# 

At last the wormhole ended, returning its children to the vast dark and faint stars.  The Farscape-Seven slid free of its maw, skidding further into the void until the retro-burners could kick in, like a toboggan reaching the end of its run.  Slowly, gently, she came to a stop.  They were home. 

Aeryn looked at John, who was remembering how to breathe.  John looked back at Aeryn, who’d obviously remembered how to grin, that oh-so-radiant grin. 

Of course, that’s just when all hezmana broke loose. 

A big fat yellow bolt of light blasted past the canopy, followed almost instantly by a starfighter of some sort.  There wasn’t even time to identify the type or pilot before a second burst reduced it to shrapnel. 

John dove for the sensors, Aeryn for the flight controls, both swearing a blue streak, as every alarm in the cockpit began bellowing for attention. 

“I’m reading about a dozen ships in the system, and a hell of a lot of firepower,” John called out.  “Seems concentrated…relative down.” 

Aeryn glanced at the reading herself, nodded, and began to spin the ship on its axis, even as she pushed her forward…best to keep moving.  The stars revolved in the forward viewport, like the moon-dial in mom’s old watch, giving way to a dense asteroid belt.  Ships of all shapes, sizes, and destructive capability wrestled through the rocks, allegiances unclear, perhaps even to the pilots. 

Unfortunately the one thing which WAS clear to nearly everyone was the wormhole.  After the war, they were impossible to ignore.  Already, the great tear in space was blinking shut, Sandsmark and his wingman sliding clear, but at least six ships were racing for the edge of the field. 

“If they put two and two together, figure out that we just made that wormhole…” worried John. 

Aeryn only nodded, and punched the thrusters to full, arrowing for the asteroids; their only cover, though it meant racing straight towards the enemy.  If they could at least reach the edge of the belt before their opponents closed, they’d have a fighting a chance… 

They didn’t make it. 

They didn’t need to. 

The ships passed right on by, only a couple of them even firing ‘don’t frell with us’ shots, which Aeryn easily dodged. 

The Crichtons glanced at each other as they flew on; another wave was coming, but with just a little luck, the Farscape-Seven would be well concealed before then.  And if these pilots showed as much interest as the first group… 

Aeryn grinned wolfishly.  “They put two and two together, all right…and got five.” 

John blinked, waited for his brain to tick over.  “They saw the wormhole…and they remembered the Farscape-One…so they’re going after the marines?” 

Aeryn nodded, grinning wider.  “Not that they’ll catch them.  They’re too small, too maneuverable and fast…look.” 

John followed her gaze; Sandsmark and the other had already kicked in their hetch drives, and were blazing out of the system. 

“So that’s it,” said John, barely believing.  “We’re…home.”   

Aeryn nodded, though her smile had faded a little. 

“But we’ve lost those pilots, can’t send them back to Earth, because the damned wormhole decided to spit us out smack in the middle of a battle.  Again.” 

Another nod, no smile at all. 

John sighed.  “Whoever said history is doomed to repeat itself…can kiss my ruby red eema!” 

# 

In the days following the near-miraculous reappearance of the Farscape-Seven, and its mysterious and perhaps criminal escape into a wormhole, the people of Earth were feeling confused, and many of them betrayed by the Crichtons. 

“They’re going back to tell their intergalactic masters all the secrets they’ve learned…gone to prepare for the invasion!” said the paranoid.   

Never mind that John Crichton knew no more ‘secrets’ now than he’d known the first time he left, and conveniently forgetting all the scientific advancements he and his wife had brought back to Earth. 

“They were aliens themselves all along!” insisted the even more paranoid.  “They only took the form of that astronaut and made up that malarky about an alien wife…what kinda red-blooded American boy would actually marry an extra-terrestrial?” 

Never mind all the red-blooded American boys with paparazzi posters of the Radiant Aeryn Sun Crichton plastered all over their bedroom walls. 

“They were our heroes, we believed in them,” cried the hurt, “And they just up and ran away!” 

Never considering that perhaps they didn’t want to be heroes. 

“Ran away in a multi-million dollar spacecraft…ran away with our tax dollars!” grumbled the pragmatic. 

Never asking why. 

Few did; but tonight, CNN would broadcast an answer.  Perhaps not *the* answer, but a place to start, at least.  The answer had arrived in the form of a computer disc, inside a conspicuously anonymous, padded brown envelope.  It had redeemed Janet Rowling in her boss’ eyes.   

She only hoped its message might redeem a dream in the eyes of the world. 

# 

Standing before the flag of the United Nations, dressed in the same orange IASA flightsuits they’d launched in, John and Aeryn Crichton smiled somberly at the camera.  John tugged at one ear, then cleared his throat. 

“Uh…” 

The tape momentarily blipped, as if someone had rewound and restarted.  Then blipped again. 

“People of Earth,” John finally began…and immediately cut himself off.  “What kind of hokey beginning is that?!” 

His hand reached towards the camera again, but Aeryn pulled him back, laughing gently.  “Just get on with it!” 

He stuck his tongue out, then turned back to the camera.  “People of Earth…you’re probably wondering right now…how a man can abandon a home he fought for five years just to get back to.  I love this world, I love its people. 

“But I’m not the man I was before that first Farscape mission.  For worse…”  He glanced over at Aeryn.  “and for better.  I saw so much…so much more than I’ve ever talked about, could ever describe.  The wonders…you won’t believe them until you see them for yourself.  And that’s one of my dreams, that so many more of you…all of you, maybe someday…will be able to get out there, see everything that’s waiting for you.  But before that can ever happen…we’ve still got a lot to learn.  About technology.  About navigating wormholes.  And about the neighborhood… 

“The honorable Klingons, the wise Vulcans, the greedy Ferengi runts with hearts of gold…they’re out there, or close enough.  They could become our friends, if we find them, if we ask right.  And we’re gonna need those friends, because…the bad guys are out there too.  Darth Vader, Stormtroopers, Skeletor, evil wizards, alien…well, Aliens…they’re out there too.  George and Gene and all our other geniuses captured some of the wonders, but their nightmares were even closer to the mark.  Far too close.  Even with the advances of the last few years, we’re not ready.  Alone, I’m not sure…” 

Crichton paused, breathed out, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and Aeryn stepped smoothly into the breach, her voice cool, yet somehow impassioned.  She shone with a quiet yet indomitable strength. 

“We’re not trying to make you all paranoid.  We WILL be ready.  Your leaders are working on the problem, and so are we.  The worlds out there come closer to…our Earth, every day.  John and I are going back now, to meet them once more halfway.  To learn what still needs to be learned, to speak with the friends you don’t yet know you have.  Earth shall not only survive, but thrive.  You have my word.” 

John blinked for a moment, then held up two fingers.  All that remained to be said was, “Peace.” 

The screen blinked out. 

# 

Far, far, away…the Farscape-Seven left the asteroid belt behind. 

John looked at Aeryn. 

Aeryn looked back at John.  “So…now what?” 

“Now…” John replied.  “We find the nearest commerce planet, I guess.  Stock up on supplies.” 

“And after that?” 

“After that…we start looking for the old gang, I guess.  Think we really can find them again?” 

Aeryn grinned impishly, and reached over to pinch his rear end.  “Stranger things have happened…” 

END