Birthright
Part 5
Aeryn could hear the argument even before they reached the corridor leading to the maintenance bay. She
broke into a run as she recognized D’Argo’s enraged tones, leaving Jack to trail along as she arced around two
corners at high speed. Echoes reverberated through the tier, only slightly distorting the bellowing growl that
was never heard unless Ian was on the verge of driving D’Argo into hyperrage. Her course through the
doorway was gauged perfectly, allowing her to make the turn without losing any traction, accelerating into the
middle of the screaming quarrel without a microt’s hesitation. She grabbed Ian roughly and flung him away from
the incensed luxan, sending her son stumbling across the expanse as she turned to face the physical threat.
The next flood of furious Luxan got past her microbes unaltered, which meant that he was resorting to pure
profanity.
“What’s going on!” she yelled back over his racket. D’Argo took a step in Ian’s direction, his body shouting out
his anger, and Aeryn slid between them, her pulse pistol out of its holster and aimed at his head before he
could take a second step. “Calm down, D’Argo!” she ordered.
The warrior drew up short, eyes slightly crossed as he contemplated the muzzle of the pulse pistol mere
denches from his nose. He was breathing hard as his body began producing the energy necessary to sustain
hyperrage, his fists clenching and unclenching with the need to grab and pummel the target of his fury.
“What happened?” Aeryn demanded again, hoping she could draw him back from the brink. If D’Argo had
already crossed the boundary into hyperrage he would not have allowed a single person, armed or not, to stop
him from going after Ian.
“The frelling fekik!” Ian yelled from behind her, aiming his ire at D’Argo. Aeryn turned toward the smaller
combatant, cutting him off with an angry gesture, and in that moment D’Argo slapped the pulse pistol out of her
hand and went after the teen. Ian’s eyes widened in alarm, recognizing that he’d pushed too far, and he
sprinted for one of the vertical ladders leading to an overhead walkway. Aeryn flung herself at D’Argo, trying to
slow him down long enough to let Ian get away, but he grabbed her and tossed her three motras across the
maintenance bay, barely pausing in his pursuit.
Aeryn scrambled to her feet, her head spinning as much from her brief flight as from the impact with the floor,
scanning rapidly to find D’Argo. If he’d crossed into hyperrage he could very easily kill Ian without meaning to,
and would very probably find a way to get himself killed in battle later out of remorse for what he’d done. She
had to stop him or slow him down long enough for Ian to hide.
There was an enormous bang in the bay as one of the suspended lights exploded, sparks showering down on
everyone and igniting a fire in a barrel full of waste components. Aeryn froze, looking for the source of the
explosion. The first thing she spotted was D’Argo standing at the bottom of the ladder, one foot on a rung as
he looked around the maintenance bay, equally bewildered and miraculously under control again. Ian’s dark
haired head peeked tentatively over the edge of the upper flooring, checking on his status as a fugitive, and
she began to relax, still searching for the cause of the distraction. Jack Crichton walked nonchalantly from
where he’d been concealed behind one of the vertical stanchions, examining the pulse pistol as he made his
way toward her. He turned it over in his hands one last time and then handed it to her butt first.
“Nice weapon,” he observed. “No kick but a bit noisy.” He surveyed the debris from the light littering the floor,
the stream of black smoke coming from the waste container, then he jammed his hands into his pockets and
wandered off as though nothing unusual had happened.
Aeryn smiled at his composure, took a deep breath to help release the tension of the last few microts, and
jammed the pistol into its holster. “All right,” she tried again, “what happened?” She pointed up at Ian and then
gestured to the floor, ordering him to come down. He shook his head, bangs flopping back and forth on his
forehead. “Get … down here!” she barked, knowing that he was almost certainly the source of the problem.
He swung a leg reluctantly over the railing and slithered down the ladder, putting it between him and D’Argo as
he got to the bottom.
“What did he do?” she asked D’Argo, assuming Ian’s guilt.
“I overreacted as well, Aeryn,” the big luxan confessed. “He said he would take Jack Crichton back to Earth on
his own --”
Aeryn snorted her disapproval of the idea and began shaking her head.
“-- to which I said he would most certainly not, and it got out of hand very quickly. Neither of us handled it well.”
D’Argo hung his head slightly, looking embarrassed.
“It’s not your fault, D’Argo. We’re all on edge.” Aeryn was about to say something about how short tempers
were understandable under the circumstances, but at that point a small mob poured into the maintenance bay,
led by Chiana.
“We heard a pulse weapon,” she said in alarm, glancing around at the small signs of destruction. “What
happened?”
“Nothing,” D’Argo grumbled, quieting the group with a glare. “It was a … misunderstanding.”
“Someone misunderstood that a pulse weapon would make a light explode?” Jothee mocked, staring up at the
smoking remnants. “Or maybe they didn’t understand that pulling the trigger would make the pistol go off?”
“What are you all doing down here?” Aeryn demanded, changing the subject.
“We thought it would be nice if we said goodbye to Crichton’s father,” Chiana explained. “We didn’t get to talk
to him, or get to know him much, but that doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate what he did.”
Aeryn ran a hand over her head, smoothing back her hair. She’d taken to wearing it in a tight braid again
because it seemed to trigger to most memories in John, harkening back to a time of intense emotions both
good and bad. She glanced behind her, ensuring that Ian hadn’t bolted while she was distracted, and then
beckoned to Jack. “I need time to talk to Ian. The others would like to say goodbye and thank you. Can you
stand it on your own if no one is there to tell you what they are saying?”
“I don’t believe it can get any more confusing than the last few hours. Go ahead.” He smiled at her, took a
deep breath and headed for the waiting group, muttering something that she thought sounded like “tattoos and
body piercings”.
Aeryn shook her head, knowing she must have gotten that one wrong, despite her microbes’ confirmation, and
gestured to Ian as she headed for the doors to the hangar bay. He shambled along behind her looking both
defiant and sheepish at the same time. “No,” she started the conversation.
“I can get there and back on my own!” he objected immediately. “I’m not some little kid.”
“You have flown a wormhole exactly twice,” she said firmly. “I am confident that you can do it, but I am not
letting you go off on your own like this. Ian, one mistake, one miscalculation and you’ll be as lost as your father
was on several occasions. He managed to get himself back here every time, but he never returned to his
home. I’m not taking a chance that the same thing might happen to you.”
The youngster wandered in a fast circle, letting out some of his aggravation, shoulders and arms dancing with
his frustration. “I can DO it!!” he yelled at her. “Sending someone with me only means that two of us might get
lost. Why take that chance? Let me take him back on my own.”
Aeryn watched the energy pour out of her son, the need to embrace him almost overwhelming her restraint. He
would shove her away if she reached for him at this moment. She also knew that it would only make him more
recalcitrant if he detected her concern for him. “No,” she dictated.
“No one else on board has flown more than two wormholes! You’ve only flown one once yourself.”
Ian’s voice cracked as he tried to persuade her.
“It isn’t about flying, Ian. It’s about surviving if you don’t make it back. It’s about figuring out what to do next.
You have no idea how confusing and strange it can be.”
She realized that he was probably old enough to finally hear about the disasters and fiascos, the unpleasant
tales that didn’t have the exciting endings. They’d never told Ian about moments like Jocacea, when they’d
managed to truly frell history despite their best efforts, or about events like their collision with the Pathfinder
ship and the price they’d paid to free Moya, or about the choices that had been made after the twinning, which
had led to a litany of grief. Ian didn’t even know about the duplicate or the fact that she’d grieved for John
Crichton once before. He had no idea what lay before him, or how difficult it was to cope when you were truly
alone.
Aeryn turned away, giving some consideration to his argument. Ian was correct that no one on board Moya
had ever flown more than two wormholes … except for John. Sending someone with him might actually serve to
make him more careless. She’d noticed that when he was given something important to do without any
oversight, he generally made a better job of it than when he was relying on the supervision to catch his
mistakes.
But it was her son.
“No,” she said firmly, using the tone reserved for letting him know that the subject was closed. “Someone goes
with you. We went to Earth with three people, came back with four. We all know that maintaining some sort of
balance of mass and energy helps to prevent problems, so you take two people with you aside from Colonel
Crichton.” She scanned the group that was gathered around Jack. “D’Argo and Nerri,” she suggested, giving
him a choice.
Ian strode toward the door to the maintenance bay, frustration and anger turning his usual sloppy walk into a
sharp march. He turned to face her. “Jothee and Vellum,” he countered.
Aeryn scowled at him, working hard to smother a laugh at Ian’s sharp negotiating skills. Jothee remained one
of the more unpredictable members of the crew, no more mature or sensible than when he’d been on board
Moya the first time. And Vellum, a deserter from the Peacekeepers and the latest addition to the growing
leviathan community, was quite possibly the most unreliable individual ever to take up residence aboard Moya.
The young sebacean, recruited when he was almost fifteen, had somehow stayed alive through his training
despite the fact that he was a complete coward, and had already demonstrated an unequalled ability to betray
whoever necessary to ensure his own safety.
She considered Ian’s strategy in offering up the two most unreliable individuals possible. “D’Argo and Sella,”
she suggested, naming the two harshest disciplinarians she could think of in a hurry.
“Chiana and Jothee,” he fired back, knowing that pairing remained out of bounds even after twenty cycles.
Even their quarters were on opposite ends of the ship, just to avoid any problems.
“I fly Lo’La myself and take whoever I want with me,” she threatened him, letting Ian know that his attempt to
improve his bargaining position was going to backfire.
He was silent for more than fifteen microts before suggesting, “Nerri and Hendlah,” in a calmer tone.
Aeryn considered the option. She would have preferred that Ian take two sebaceans with him, people who
could pass for human if the unimaginable happened and the trio got stuck on Earth, but the two nebari
resistance fighters knew more about survival and coping with unusual situations than anyone she’d ever known
… even more than John. The couple had fallen in love almost fifteen cycles ago, had managed to stay both
alive and together throughout the chaos now known as The Revolt, and had somehow found time for intimacy
even when living in cramped conditions with hundreds of other resistance fighters. No one aboard Moya was
more innovative when it came to survival or discrete when it came to close quarters than Nerri and Hendlah.
“All right,” she agreed. “What about D’Argo’s DNA? Have you taken care of that yet?” Ian nodded, still looking
unhappy with the outcome of their bidding war. “Ian,” she prompted, trying to get his full attention. He looked
up from his boot toes. “Be careful. Don’t frell this up.”
“Yes, mother,” he sighed with exaggerated patience. “Can I start the pre-flight on Lo’La, or do you want me to
get Nerri and Hendlah?”
“You start the checks. I’ll get the others.” Aeryn watched the lithe form pull itself up the stairs and disappear
into the aging luxan ship, biting down on her lip to keep herself from calling him back for a hug. He’d chosen
the black leather jacket today instead of the battered and faded armored luxan jacket he usually preferred.
She knew it was a deliberate attempt by Ian to make himself look more like John, a psychological ploy that he
used whenever he wanted to do something he was sure she would prevent. He was trying so hard to grow up
fast, taking on responsibilities and duties that rightfully belonged to John despite every one of her attempts to
preserve the last days of his childhood.
“Be careful, my eiyan,” Aeryn whispered after him. “Cholak watch over you.” She might be able to survive if
she lost one of them, but if she lost both John and Ian at the same time it would be more than she could
handle. The quiet whine of Lo’La’s pre-start sequence broke the silence of the hangar bay, and she went to
find the others.
* * * * *
The rippling light distortions from the wormhole flickered around the cockpit one last time then faded out as the
anomaly disappeared from sight. Jack shook his head in awe as his eyes adjusted to the dark and the
shimmering curtains stars came into view. Lo’La heeled over in space, the view out the front viewscreen
spinning wildly for a moment, and then Earth slid into view. “Right where it belongs,” he confirmed,
complimenting Ian’s piloting skills.
“Right when it belongs is the more important part,” the youngster smiled thinly, tapping several of the controls.
“We didn’t --” Jack began to protest, thinking they’d missed the correct exit.
“No, we’re in the right spot. I was just … I don’t know why I said that. It was stupid. We’re fine.” Ian glanced
over his shoulder to where the nebari couple was talking quietly in the back corner of the ship, their voices all
but inaudible despite their close proximity.
Jack watched the jerky motions, the fast glances at himself and the other two occupants of the ship, and
recognized that something was bothering his grandson. He was about to ask him straight out, stopping only
when he remembered how much easier it was to launch into a difficult subject with Leslie if they were talking
about something more trivial first. Earth shifted to one side of the viewscreen as they arced into orbit, Australia
slowly crawling out of sight as they slid toward the night side of the planet.
“Do we have a few minutes to spare before we head down?” he asked his pilot as he tried to think of an
innocuous topic. Ian merely nodded, frowning slightly as he made an adjustment to the throttles. “Your mother
said there are things that can change a wormhole. What sorts of forces can influence something that operates
outside time and space?”
“Singularities,” came the short answer. “They reach right through every plane, yanking almost anything out of
shape. And the other really big one is people traveling through wormholes and frelling up history or messing
around with different universes. Sometimes a wormhole will just close up forever if too much gets changed at
one end or the other.”
“But not this one,” Jack replied in alarm.
“No, not this one. We’ve been careful and we haven’t changed the past. You should get back a few arns after
you left, so aside from losing one night’s sleep, nothing much will get altered. This wormhole,” he pointed over
his shoulder in the direction of where they’d appeared in space, “is a shortcut past a section of space where a
star is going nova. The gravitational shifts will eventually yank this one somewhere or somewhen else. That’s
why you had to come back now.”
Ian shifted uncomfortably, glanced over his shoulder at Nerri and Hendlah, then spoke more softly.
“Grandfather … ” He leaned forward to adjust the controls, and when he settled back there was nothing in his
posture that said he was going to continue.
“What?” Jack prodded gently, letting him get to whatever was bothering him at his own pace. There was
another long silence before Ian made a small noise of indecision and continued.
“Everyone is trying to be hopeful, but they keep saying that my father may not get his memory back even if the
Kallimitri treatment stops the disease.” Jack waited as the young man worked himself up to the next part,
suspecting what was coming next. “He may not remember me,” Ian whispered, his voice suddenly guttural and
thick.
“He’ll make new memories. You’ll make new memories together.”
“If he doesn’t remember me, can I come back to Earth and live with you?” Ian blurted in a rush. “Can I come
and be your grandson?”
Jack had been prepared for a number of comments or requests, but this one caught him totally by surprise. He
gaped at Ian for a moment, struggling to find an appropriate answer. “What about your mother?” he asked
after several seconds.
“She’s always been able to get by on her own. She’ll be fine. All she ever does is treat me like a kid. She
doesn’t need me to help her through this.”
Jack began to shake his head, not turning the request down, but knowing that Ian had badly misread his
mother’s reserve.
His grandson continued before he could answer, a trace of a whine entering his voice. “Melnatsa, I want to
have fun. I want to run around and play jokes and do what guys my age are supposed to do, the things my
father did when he was my age. We hide from enemies, and get in trouble, and I never know if my mother and
my father are going to get killed, or if the others are going to get killed. I had a grandmother of sorts when I
was little, and she got killed. She was ugly and crazy and smelled bad, but I loved her, and I don’t think I can
stand it if one of the others dies. I want to come to Earth and be normal.”
Jack saw the dilemma in all of its intricacies, and wondered how many of the same fears John had harbored as
a child when he had pursued his career at NASA. “Ian, you are normal. It’s your life that’s abnormal. If you
came to Earth, do you think you’d get a chance to fly spaceships ever again? With or without a bucket of
spit?” Ian gave him a short laugh in response, nudging the sealed container of D’Argo’s offerings with one
boot. “You’ve lived with amazing people, experienced amazing moments, with an extended family that loves
each other more than your real aunts could ever love you. Not because your aunts don’t know how to love, but
because you risk more every day and that makes each moment more precious, Ian.”
Lo’la came to a stop, hanging in space with Earth and its moon taking up a third of the viewscreen. Ian stared
at the white and blue planet, breathing hard, fighting back tears.
“He’ll remember you, Ian. And your mother needs you more than you can ever imagine. When you think she’s
smothering you, take a better look at what’s going on, because I think you’ll find that she’s wrapping you around
her to protect her from the things she can’t control in her life. She isn’t protecting you from life, she’s using you
to protect her from the one thing she can’t face -- the prospect of being alone. You are her life right now, even
if it’s John that’s she focused on.”
Ian shook his head, the young spaceship pilot finally giving in to his fears and starting to cry despite his best
efforts to stay in control. “It doesn’t feel like that,” he objected. “How can you tell that’s what she’s doing?”
“Because it’s what I did when your grandmother died,” Jack confessed. “The house was so damned empty. I’d
come home from the hospital and all I could hear was the silence. Having your father and his sisters around
was the only thing that made it bearable. Aeryn needs you, Ian, and she’ll probably never tell you that out
loud.”
“But … my Dad,” came the protest, the other part of the problem. Jack stole a fast glance at the pair behind
them while the boy smeared his cheeks against the sleeve of his jacket. They were watching with concern, but
hadn’t moved any closer, giving their young charge the privacy he desired. “If he doesn’t get better … I want to
come stay with you!” he cried.
Jack reached for the boy’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug, feeling the young muscles there, promising that
this person would grow as strong and solid as his father. “He’s going to remember you, Ian. You’ll be the first
thing he remembers when he starts to get better. You’re his son -- he won’t forget you. It’s difficult at your age
to see how much promise lies ahead of you, but your promise lies out there, in space, not tied to a single
planet.”
“Dad has always said that the universe was my birthright,” Ian mumbled, pulling away. “That I was part of it and
it was part of me.”
“He’s right. You’ll always be welcome in my home, melnatnic, but your home is back there aboard Moya.”
Ian sighed, wiped away the last of his tears with a shaking hand, and turned to face the controls. “I don’t know
what I was doing, asking to stay,” he admitted. “I’ll be all right, I guess.”
“I’m quite sure you will.” Jack watched the image of Earth ripple for a second as the cloaking shield engaged.
“And tell me one more time how that time disruption thing works.”
Ian looked at him sheepishly. “Rub it in. When did you remember that I couldn’t come back in time and stay
without frelling things up?”
“Right from the moment you asked me if you could live with me. Take me home, Ian.” The last time Jack
Crichton had watched the Earth expand in the view screen of a NASA spacecraft had been thirty years ago. He
had floated happily in zero-G, grinning like an idiot as he saw his home from space for what he had thought was
going to be the last time. He watched it this time with the singular knowledge that it wasn’t the only inhabitable
planet in the universe, than humanity wasn’t alone, and that his descendants would have a very special place
amongst the stars.
* * * * *
Another year, another Halloween. Jack Crichton was on the verge of laughter as he watched three spacemen,
one unidentifiable alien, and a robot skip down the front walk and let themselves out through the gate. The
neighborhood children had learned all too well that he was a soft touch for anyone dressed up as an astronaut
or a space alien, and he’d been forced to buy nearly three times as much candy this year as he had that fateful
day four years ago. Every Halloween served as a reminder of his brief journey into his son’s future, and it had
become a bittersweet memory best revisited only once a year.
He took in a deep breath and stared up into the night sky. The weather goof on the evening news had blown
the forecast completely, predicting warm air and drizzle instead of the clear skies and near freezing
temperatures that heralded a frost by morning. Jack stared at the familiar constellations, wondering which
direction pointed toward the Uncharted Territories and the proto-galaxies of Tormented Space.
“Give it up, Jack,” he told himself. He would never know where his son was living, and would never know how
fully the alien cure had worked. John had a beautiful, strong woman by his side who would not let him suffer a
slow, undignified death, and an intelligent, capable son who would carry on the Crichton tradition in a manner
none of his ancestors ever would have predicted.
Jack looked up and down the street, scanning for latecomers, then locked the front door and snapped off the
outside light. He moved through the house, turning off every light so any stragglers would know he was out of
goodies, then moved by habit through the darkened kitchen and out the back door. He wanted to sit in the
dark and reflect on the possibilities of past and future as he had done on the last three Halloweens,
undisturbed by the neighbors or wandering hobgoblins.
“Don’t jump,” a male voice commanded.
“Jesus Christ!” Jack exploded, grabbing at the railing to keep himself from falling down the back steps. “Don’t
jump, my ass. Who’s there?”
A tall figure moved out of the shadows, stepping into the rectangle of light spilling from the downstairs
bathroom, the only light he hadn’t extinguished.
“John?” Jack moved forward, peering at him through the gloom. “Is that you, son?”
“Yes.” The single word let something loose inside, something he’d never allowed to run free when he’d been
with his son before, and Jack took three fast steps forward to embrace him. “Take it easy, Dad. I’m fine,” John
laughed into his ear, and pulled him into a bearhug, clutching him tightly.
“When … where … Wait a minute. When did you come here from?” Jack backed away to look at him again.
His son was young. The gray hair and wrinkles were gone. There was experience, sorrow and pain written on
his face, but none of the heart-stopping emptiness that had been there the last time he’d looked into those
eyes. “You’re young. John, I have to warn you …”
“It’s okay, melnatsa, we came from after that,” another voice laughed from the dark. Ian stepped up beside his
father, a little older and an inch or two taller, the first hint of a mustache feathering his upper lip. “I told you I
got it right,” the young man aimed at his father.
“Rub it in,” John sneered, taking a light-hearted swing at his son’s head. “He never lets me drive anymore.”
“You get lost in wormholes, John,” Aeryn added from behind Jack.
“You three are going to give me a heart attack if you don’t stop sneaking up on me,” Jack complained,
recovering from his second fright. “How did you get back there without my seeing you?” he asked Aeryn.
“I was in the kitchen,” she smiled at him. “You move noisy.”
Jack returned to the sight of his son and his grandson standing together. “Ian’s older, but you’re younger.” He
reached out to touch John’s cheek, fingering the unwrinkled surface, finding muscle tone and the firmness of
healthy tissue there. “How? Are you all right now? The treatment worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, Dad. That was two cycles ago and I’m doing fine. It took a while, but I was ordered to fight like hell, so I
didn’t have any choice except to get better.” John’s grin gleamed for a moment in the angling light.
“I said something like that …” Jack looked at Aeryn for a moment, remembering his words in the leviathan’s
sickbay. “There was a DRD there somewhere,” he concluded as all three laughed.
“Pilot showed me the recording once everyone was sure I wouldn’t turn around and forget it right away,” John
kidded, apparently at ease with his past dementia. He sobered slightly, moving closer to Jack. “The only thing
is, the resequencing did a little more than cure the Alzheimer’s. It set my clock back a bit. Dad … it gave me
more time with Aeryn and Ian. A lot more time. I’ve got an extra twenty or thirty cycles now, probably even
more. We aren’t sure yet, but the Kallimitri seem to have done something that’s slowing the aging process
down.” John stopped, his voice dropping an extra octave during his last sentence. “I couldn’t get on with my
life without coming back to thank you. And I didn’t get to …” he was breathing hard, fighting to stay in
control.
“You didn’t get to talk to me,” Jack finished for his son. He could see the outline of John’s head nodding in the
dark. “Can you come inside for a little bit? So I can see you better?”
“We can’t stay long,” Ian interjected.
“A few microts, Ian,” John insisted.
“Not many.”
“What’s going on?” Jack inquired, watching their bodies transmitting something approaching alarm.
“Why the rush?”
“Ask Ian, he’s the pro. He can surf wormholes like I can beat you at Scrabble,” John joked, referring to an
almost forgotten series of hideously lopsided scores during his teens. “If he says we have to go, we have to
go.”
“I thought you were the expert.” A piece of a conversation exploded out of Jack’s memory.
“Dad has always said that the universe was my birthright; that I was part of it and it was part of me.”
Ian’s comment rang in his memory as loudly as if he’d just uttered the words into the cold night air.
“Oh my god,” Jack breathed, “I thought D’Argo was letting Ian drive for the practice, that he or Aeryn had given
him the coordinates or vectors or whatever you want to call it. But it was Ian who was selecting the right
wormhole and where to get out.” Every moment of his trip to and from Moya was seen in a new light, comments
and shared looks suddenly twisting into a new pattern –- one that made far more sense.
His son … his strong, healthy, alert son was nodding in the light from indoors. “Ian was born with the
knowledge, Dad. I didn’t want anyone else to carry the burden of knowing how to use wormholes, but it was
imbedded on a genetic level and it got passed on to Ian. Wormhole knowledge is his birthright. He can find an
instant in time and space like a Kallimitri geneticist picks apart helixes. It’s still incredibly dangerous, and we
could screw up universes in ways you and I can’t begin to imagine, but he can do the one thing I never could.”
“What’s that?”
“This. What we’re doing right now. He can bring us home for a visit every once in a great while. Ian can sense
how to jump in time without frelling the entire universe, which means you can see him as he grows, and he can
bring your great-grand-children home for the occasional visit when the conditions are correct. We’re not talking
every year, but we’ll stop by whenever he says the time is right.” John gathered his son under his arm and
squeezed his shoulder, every inch of his silhouette shouting of his pride in Ian’s abilities. “He says he’ll do his
best to visit on dates that occur after tonight.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Jack growled at them, trying to envision the confusion that would occur if they showed
up before he’d met them for the first time. “So everything turned out all right, melnatnic?” he asked his
grandson.
“You were right,” Ian admitted, hanging his head for a moment. He raised it again and looked into Jack’s eyes,
his gaze flickering to where Aeryn was sitting on the back steps and then looking directly at his grandfather
again. “You were right about everything.”
“I’m glad … for all of you.” Jack turned to stare at Aeryn for several moments, then studied his son again, fixing
the dark clothes, the weapons, the assurance, and the obvious strong emotional bond in his mind for all time.
A lump formed in his throat as he considered their bizarre life, one he couldn’t have ever dreamed up on his
own, and compared it to his day-to-day existence of mowing the lawn, buying groceries, and doing the dishes.
“I miss you,” he said to all three, choking on the painful constriction in his throat.
“We’ll come by as often as we can,” John offered, stepping close. “This set-up was the first one Ian’s been able
to locate in two cycles, so we decided to come through even though it was going to be a quick visit. He thinks
he can find a longer interval in the next half-cycle.” John moved to within a foot of his father, staring intently at
the older man. “I’ll stay on him, Dad. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”
“We need to go,” Ian’s quiet voice urged out of the dark.
Aeryn moved off the steps and went to stand by Ian. “We’ll be back,” she promised. “Thank you for giving him
back to us.” The accent was no less thick, but her meaning was crystal clear. This family was intact because he’
d insisted on taking a chance that could have consigned him to John’s fate -- permanent exile in a distant
portion of the universe. If he hadn’t gone with them that night, John wouldn’t be here now.
“I’ll be seeing you, Dad.” Father and son stared at each other, their tense postures identical as they faced the
uncertainty of when they’d be able to see each other again.
“John … I’ve never been one to …” Jack broke off, feeling entirely out of his element. John reached out and
pulled his father into a hug, clinging to him fiercely for several microts and Jack returned the embrace in full
measure, comforted to have his son’s sturdy body in his arms even if only for a few seconds. John backed
away and Jack had one clear sight of the happy smile, the light in the eyes, and the confidence that he’d
thought might be gone forever when he’d seen him last.
“I’ll leave a light on,” Jack assured him.
“That’ll run up the electrical bills a bit, don’t you think?”
Jack squinted into the dark, keeping his eyes on the family as long as he could. John lingered, staring back at
his father, Aeryn and Ian waiting just behind him. Jack nodded, content with the way they were saying goodbye
this time.
John pointed into the night sky. “Look up. We’ll always be there. Even if you can’t see us, we’ll be there.” The
trio began to fade into the dark.
“I love you, John,” Jack called after him.
“I love you, Dad. See you soon.” There was a swirling flicker of a black overcoat, and then they were gone
except for the sound of their feet rustling through the drifts of autumn leaves and the echoes of their laughter
as John and Aeryn hurried into the dark, following their son to their place in the stars.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Part 5
Aeryn could hear the argument even before they reached the corridor leading to the maintenance bay. She
broke into a run as she recognized D’Argo’s enraged tones, leaving Jack to trail along as she arced around two
corners at high speed. Echoes reverberated through the tier, only slightly distorting the bellowing growl that
was never heard unless Ian was on the verge of driving D’Argo into hyperrage. Her course through the
doorway was gauged perfectly, allowing her to make the turn without losing any traction, accelerating into the
middle of the screaming quarrel without a microt’s hesitation. She grabbed Ian roughly and flung him away from
the incensed luxan, sending her son stumbling across the expanse as she turned to face the physical threat.
The next flood of furious Luxan got past her microbes unaltered, which meant that he was resorting to pure
profanity.
“What’s going on!” she yelled back over his racket. D’Argo took a step in Ian’s direction, his body shouting out
his anger, and Aeryn slid between them, her pulse pistol out of its holster and aimed at his head before he
could take a second step. “Calm down, D’Argo!” she ordered.
The warrior drew up short, eyes slightly crossed as he contemplated the muzzle of the pulse pistol mere
denches from his nose. He was breathing hard as his body began producing the energy necessary to sustain
hyperrage, his fists clenching and unclenching with the need to grab and pummel the target of his fury.
“What happened?” Aeryn demanded again, hoping she could draw him back from the brink. If D’Argo had
already crossed the boundary into hyperrage he would not have allowed a single person, armed or not, to stop
him from going after Ian.
“The frelling fekik!” Ian yelled from behind her, aiming his ire at D’Argo. Aeryn turned toward the smaller
combatant, cutting him off with an angry gesture, and in that moment D’Argo slapped the pulse pistol out of her
hand and went after the teen. Ian’s eyes widened in alarm, recognizing that he’d pushed too far, and he
sprinted for one of the vertical ladders leading to an overhead walkway. Aeryn flung herself at D’Argo, trying to
slow him down long enough to let Ian get away, but he grabbed her and tossed her three motras across the
maintenance bay, barely pausing in his pursuit.
Aeryn scrambled to her feet, her head spinning as much from her brief flight as from the impact with the floor,
scanning rapidly to find D’Argo. If he’d crossed into hyperrage he could very easily kill Ian without meaning to,
and would very probably find a way to get himself killed in battle later out of remorse for what he’d done. She
had to stop him or slow him down long enough for Ian to hide.
There was an enormous bang in the bay as one of the suspended lights exploded, sparks showering down on
everyone and igniting a fire in a barrel full of waste components. Aeryn froze, looking for the source of the
explosion. The first thing she spotted was D’Argo standing at the bottom of the ladder, one foot on a rung as
he looked around the maintenance bay, equally bewildered and miraculously under control again. Ian’s dark
haired head peeked tentatively over the edge of the upper flooring, checking on his status as a fugitive, and
she began to relax, still searching for the cause of the distraction. Jack Crichton walked nonchalantly from
where he’d been concealed behind one of the vertical stanchions, examining the pulse pistol as he made his
way toward her. He turned it over in his hands one last time and then handed it to her butt first.
“Nice weapon,” he observed. “No kick but a bit noisy.” He surveyed the debris from the light littering the floor,
the stream of black smoke coming from the waste container, then he jammed his hands into his pockets and
wandered off as though nothing unusual had happened.
Aeryn smiled at his composure, took a deep breath to help release the tension of the last few microts, and
jammed the pistol into its holster. “All right,” she tried again, “what happened?” She pointed up at Ian and then
gestured to the floor, ordering him to come down. He shook his head, bangs flopping back and forth on his
forehead. “Get … down here!” she barked, knowing that he was almost certainly the source of the problem.
He swung a leg reluctantly over the railing and slithered down the ladder, putting it between him and D’Argo as
he got to the bottom.
“What did he do?” she asked D’Argo, assuming Ian’s guilt.
“I overreacted as well, Aeryn,” the big luxan confessed. “He said he would take Jack Crichton back to Earth on
his own --”
Aeryn snorted her disapproval of the idea and began shaking her head.
“-- to which I said he would most certainly not, and it got out of hand very quickly. Neither of us handled it well.”
D’Argo hung his head slightly, looking embarrassed.
“It’s not your fault, D’Argo. We’re all on edge.” Aeryn was about to say something about how short tempers
were understandable under the circumstances, but at that point a small mob poured into the maintenance bay,
led by Chiana.
“We heard a pulse weapon,” she said in alarm, glancing around at the small signs of destruction. “What
happened?”
“Nothing,” D’Argo grumbled, quieting the group with a glare. “It was a … misunderstanding.”
“Someone misunderstood that a pulse weapon would make a light explode?” Jothee mocked, staring up at the
smoking remnants. “Or maybe they didn’t understand that pulling the trigger would make the pistol go off?”
“What are you all doing down here?” Aeryn demanded, changing the subject.
“We thought it would be nice if we said goodbye to Crichton’s father,” Chiana explained. “We didn’t get to talk
to him, or get to know him much, but that doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate what he did.”
Aeryn ran a hand over her head, smoothing back her hair. She’d taken to wearing it in a tight braid again
because it seemed to trigger to most memories in John, harkening back to a time of intense emotions both
good and bad. She glanced behind her, ensuring that Ian hadn’t bolted while she was distracted, and then
beckoned to Jack. “I need time to talk to Ian. The others would like to say goodbye and thank you. Can you
stand it on your own if no one is there to tell you what they are saying?”
“I don’t believe it can get any more confusing than the last few hours. Go ahead.” He smiled at her, took a
deep breath and headed for the waiting group, muttering something that she thought sounded like “tattoos and
body piercings”.
Aeryn shook her head, knowing she must have gotten that one wrong, despite her microbes’ confirmation, and
gestured to Ian as she headed for the doors to the hangar bay. He shambled along behind her looking both
defiant and sheepish at the same time. “No,” she started the conversation.
“I can get there and back on my own!” he objected immediately. “I’m not some little kid.”
“You have flown a wormhole exactly twice,” she said firmly. “I am confident that you can do it, but I am not
letting you go off on your own like this. Ian, one mistake, one miscalculation and you’ll be as lost as your father
was on several occasions. He managed to get himself back here every time, but he never returned to his
home. I’m not taking a chance that the same thing might happen to you.”
The youngster wandered in a fast circle, letting out some of his aggravation, shoulders and arms dancing with
his frustration. “I can DO it!!” he yelled at her. “Sending someone with me only means that two of us might get
lost. Why take that chance? Let me take him back on my own.”
Aeryn watched the energy pour out of her son, the need to embrace him almost overwhelming her restraint. He
would shove her away if she reached for him at this moment. She also knew that it would only make him more
recalcitrant if he detected her concern for him. “No,” she dictated.
“No one else on board has flown more than two wormholes! You’ve only flown one once yourself.”
Ian’s voice cracked as he tried to persuade her.
“It isn’t about flying, Ian. It’s about surviving if you don’t make it back. It’s about figuring out what to do next.
You have no idea how confusing and strange it can be.”
She realized that he was probably old enough to finally hear about the disasters and fiascos, the unpleasant
tales that didn’t have the exciting endings. They’d never told Ian about moments like Jocacea, when they’d
managed to truly frell history despite their best efforts, or about events like their collision with the Pathfinder
ship and the price they’d paid to free Moya, or about the choices that had been made after the twinning, which
had led to a litany of grief. Ian didn’t even know about the duplicate or the fact that she’d grieved for John
Crichton once before. He had no idea what lay before him, or how difficult it was to cope when you were truly
alone.
Aeryn turned away, giving some consideration to his argument. Ian was correct that no one on board Moya
had ever flown more than two wormholes … except for John. Sending someone with him might actually serve to
make him more careless. She’d noticed that when he was given something important to do without any
oversight, he generally made a better job of it than when he was relying on the supervision to catch his
mistakes.
But it was her son.
“No,” she said firmly, using the tone reserved for letting him know that the subject was closed. “Someone goes
with you. We went to Earth with three people, came back with four. We all know that maintaining some sort of
balance of mass and energy helps to prevent problems, so you take two people with you aside from Colonel
Crichton.” She scanned the group that was gathered around Jack. “D’Argo and Nerri,” she suggested, giving
him a choice.
Ian strode toward the door to the maintenance bay, frustration and anger turning his usual sloppy walk into a
sharp march. He turned to face her. “Jothee and Vellum,” he countered.
Aeryn scowled at him, working hard to smother a laugh at Ian’s sharp negotiating skills. Jothee remained one
of the more unpredictable members of the crew, no more mature or sensible than when he’d been on board
Moya the first time. And Vellum, a deserter from the Peacekeepers and the latest addition to the growing
leviathan community, was quite possibly the most unreliable individual ever to take up residence aboard Moya.
The young sebacean, recruited when he was almost fifteen, had somehow stayed alive through his training
despite the fact that he was a complete coward, and had already demonstrated an unequalled ability to betray
whoever necessary to ensure his own safety.
She considered Ian’s strategy in offering up the two most unreliable individuals possible. “D’Argo and Sella,”
she suggested, naming the two harshest disciplinarians she could think of in a hurry.
“Chiana and Jothee,” he fired back, knowing that pairing remained out of bounds even after twenty cycles.
Even their quarters were on opposite ends of the ship, just to avoid any problems.
“I fly Lo’La myself and take whoever I want with me,” she threatened him, letting Ian know that his attempt to
improve his bargaining position was going to backfire.
He was silent for more than fifteen microts before suggesting, “Nerri and Hendlah,” in a calmer tone.
Aeryn considered the option. She would have preferred that Ian take two sebaceans with him, people who
could pass for human if the unimaginable happened and the trio got stuck on Earth, but the two nebari
resistance fighters knew more about survival and coping with unusual situations than anyone she’d ever known
… even more than John. The couple had fallen in love almost fifteen cycles ago, had managed to stay both
alive and together throughout the chaos now known as The Revolt, and had somehow found time for intimacy
even when living in cramped conditions with hundreds of other resistance fighters. No one aboard Moya was
more innovative when it came to survival or discrete when it came to close quarters than Nerri and Hendlah.
“All right,” she agreed. “What about D’Argo’s DNA? Have you taken care of that yet?” Ian nodded, still looking
unhappy with the outcome of their bidding war. “Ian,” she prompted, trying to get his full attention. He looked
up from his boot toes. “Be careful. Don’t frell this up.”
“Yes, mother,” he sighed with exaggerated patience. “Can I start the pre-flight on Lo’La, or do you want me to
get Nerri and Hendlah?”
“You start the checks. I’ll get the others.” Aeryn watched the lithe form pull itself up the stairs and disappear
into the aging luxan ship, biting down on her lip to keep herself from calling him back for a hug. He’d chosen
the black leather jacket today instead of the battered and faded armored luxan jacket he usually preferred.
She knew it was a deliberate attempt by Ian to make himself look more like John, a psychological ploy that he
used whenever he wanted to do something he was sure she would prevent. He was trying so hard to grow up
fast, taking on responsibilities and duties that rightfully belonged to John despite every one of her attempts to
preserve the last days of his childhood.
“Be careful, my eiyan,” Aeryn whispered after him. “Cholak watch over you.” She might be able to survive if
she lost one of them, but if she lost both John and Ian at the same time it would be more than she could
handle. The quiet whine of Lo’La’s pre-start sequence broke the silence of the hangar bay, and she went to
find the others.
* * * * *
The rippling light distortions from the wormhole flickered around the cockpit one last time then faded out as the
anomaly disappeared from sight. Jack shook his head in awe as his eyes adjusted to the dark and the
shimmering curtains stars came into view. Lo’La heeled over in space, the view out the front viewscreen
spinning wildly for a moment, and then Earth slid into view. “Right where it belongs,” he confirmed,
complimenting Ian’s piloting skills.
“Right when it belongs is the more important part,” the youngster smiled thinly, tapping several of the controls.
“We didn’t --” Jack began to protest, thinking they’d missed the correct exit.
“No, we’re in the right spot. I was just … I don’t know why I said that. It was stupid. We’re fine.” Ian glanced
over his shoulder to where the nebari couple was talking quietly in the back corner of the ship, their voices all
but inaudible despite their close proximity.
Jack watched the jerky motions, the fast glances at himself and the other two occupants of the ship, and
recognized that something was bothering his grandson. He was about to ask him straight out, stopping only
when he remembered how much easier it was to launch into a difficult subject with Leslie if they were talking
about something more trivial first. Earth shifted to one side of the viewscreen as they arced into orbit, Australia
slowly crawling out of sight as they slid toward the night side of the planet.
“Do we have a few minutes to spare before we head down?” he asked his pilot as he tried to think of an
innocuous topic. Ian merely nodded, frowning slightly as he made an adjustment to the throttles. “Your mother
said there are things that can change a wormhole. What sorts of forces can influence something that operates
outside time and space?”
“Singularities,” came the short answer. “They reach right through every plane, yanking almost anything out of
shape. And the other really big one is people traveling through wormholes and frelling up history or messing
around with different universes. Sometimes a wormhole will just close up forever if too much gets changed at
one end or the other.”
“But not this one,” Jack replied in alarm.
“No, not this one. We’ve been careful and we haven’t changed the past. You should get back a few arns after
you left, so aside from losing one night’s sleep, nothing much will get altered. This wormhole,” he pointed over
his shoulder in the direction of where they’d appeared in space, “is a shortcut past a section of space where a
star is going nova. The gravitational shifts will eventually yank this one somewhere or somewhen else. That’s
why you had to come back now.”
Ian shifted uncomfortably, glanced over his shoulder at Nerri and Hendlah, then spoke more softly.
“Grandfather … ” He leaned forward to adjust the controls, and when he settled back there was nothing in his
posture that said he was going to continue.
“What?” Jack prodded gently, letting him get to whatever was bothering him at his own pace. There was
another long silence before Ian made a small noise of indecision and continued.
“Everyone is trying to be hopeful, but they keep saying that my father may not get his memory back even if the
Kallimitri treatment stops the disease.” Jack waited as the young man worked himself up to the next part,
suspecting what was coming next. “He may not remember me,” Ian whispered, his voice suddenly guttural and
thick.
“He’ll make new memories. You’ll make new memories together.”
“If he doesn’t remember me, can I come back to Earth and live with you?” Ian blurted in a rush. “Can I come
and be your grandson?”
Jack had been prepared for a number of comments or requests, but this one caught him totally by surprise. He
gaped at Ian for a moment, struggling to find an appropriate answer. “What about your mother?” he asked
after several seconds.
“She’s always been able to get by on her own. She’ll be fine. All she ever does is treat me like a kid. She
doesn’t need me to help her through this.”
Jack began to shake his head, not turning the request down, but knowing that Ian had badly misread his
mother’s reserve.
His grandson continued before he could answer, a trace of a whine entering his voice. “Melnatsa, I want to
have fun. I want to run around and play jokes and do what guys my age are supposed to do, the things my
father did when he was my age. We hide from enemies, and get in trouble, and I never know if my mother and
my father are going to get killed, or if the others are going to get killed. I had a grandmother of sorts when I
was little, and she got killed. She was ugly and crazy and smelled bad, but I loved her, and I don’t think I can
stand it if one of the others dies. I want to come to Earth and be normal.”
Jack saw the dilemma in all of its intricacies, and wondered how many of the same fears John had harbored as
a child when he had pursued his career at NASA. “Ian, you are normal. It’s your life that’s abnormal. If you
came to Earth, do you think you’d get a chance to fly spaceships ever again? With or without a bucket of
spit?” Ian gave him a short laugh in response, nudging the sealed container of D’Argo’s offerings with one
boot. “You’ve lived with amazing people, experienced amazing moments, with an extended family that loves
each other more than your real aunts could ever love you. Not because your aunts don’t know how to love, but
because you risk more every day and that makes each moment more precious, Ian.”
Lo’la came to a stop, hanging in space with Earth and its moon taking up a third of the viewscreen. Ian stared
at the white and blue planet, breathing hard, fighting back tears.
“He’ll remember you, Ian. And your mother needs you more than you can ever imagine. When you think she’s
smothering you, take a better look at what’s going on, because I think you’ll find that she’s wrapping you around
her to protect her from the things she can’t control in her life. She isn’t protecting you from life, she’s using you
to protect her from the one thing she can’t face -- the prospect of being alone. You are her life right now, even
if it’s John that’s she focused on.”
Ian shook his head, the young spaceship pilot finally giving in to his fears and starting to cry despite his best
efforts to stay in control. “It doesn’t feel like that,” he objected. “How can you tell that’s what she’s doing?”
“Because it’s what I did when your grandmother died,” Jack confessed. “The house was so damned empty. I’d
come home from the hospital and all I could hear was the silence. Having your father and his sisters around
was the only thing that made it bearable. Aeryn needs you, Ian, and she’ll probably never tell you that out
loud.”
“But … my Dad,” came the protest, the other part of the problem. Jack stole a fast glance at the pair behind
them while the boy smeared his cheeks against the sleeve of his jacket. They were watching with concern, but
hadn’t moved any closer, giving their young charge the privacy he desired. “If he doesn’t get better … I want to
come stay with you!” he cried.
Jack reached for the boy’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug, feeling the young muscles there, promising that
this person would grow as strong and solid as his father. “He’s going to remember you, Ian. You’ll be the first
thing he remembers when he starts to get better. You’re his son -- he won’t forget you. It’s difficult at your age
to see how much promise lies ahead of you, but your promise lies out there, in space, not tied to a single
planet.”
“Dad has always said that the universe was my birthright,” Ian mumbled, pulling away. “That I was part of it and
it was part of me.”
“He’s right. You’ll always be welcome in my home, melnatnic, but your home is back there aboard Moya.”
Ian sighed, wiped away the last of his tears with a shaking hand, and turned to face the controls. “I don’t know
what I was doing, asking to stay,” he admitted. “I’ll be all right, I guess.”
“I’m quite sure you will.” Jack watched the image of Earth ripple for a second as the cloaking shield engaged.
“And tell me one more time how that time disruption thing works.”
Ian looked at him sheepishly. “Rub it in. When did you remember that I couldn’t come back in time and stay
without frelling things up?”
“Right from the moment you asked me if you could live with me. Take me home, Ian.” The last time Jack
Crichton had watched the Earth expand in the view screen of a NASA spacecraft had been thirty years ago. He
had floated happily in zero-G, grinning like an idiot as he saw his home from space for what he had thought was
going to be the last time. He watched it this time with the singular knowledge that it wasn’t the only inhabitable
planet in the universe, than humanity wasn’t alone, and that his descendants would have a very special place
amongst the stars.
* * * * *
Another year, another Halloween. Jack Crichton was on the verge of laughter as he watched three spacemen,
one unidentifiable alien, and a robot skip down the front walk and let themselves out through the gate. The
neighborhood children had learned all too well that he was a soft touch for anyone dressed up as an astronaut
or a space alien, and he’d been forced to buy nearly three times as much candy this year as he had that fateful
day four years ago. Every Halloween served as a reminder of his brief journey into his son’s future, and it had
become a bittersweet memory best revisited only once a year.
He took in a deep breath and stared up into the night sky. The weather goof on the evening news had blown
the forecast completely, predicting warm air and drizzle instead of the clear skies and near freezing
temperatures that heralded a frost by morning. Jack stared at the familiar constellations, wondering which
direction pointed toward the Uncharted Territories and the proto-galaxies of Tormented Space.
“Give it up, Jack,” he told himself. He would never know where his son was living, and would never know how
fully the alien cure had worked. John had a beautiful, strong woman by his side who would not let him suffer a
slow, undignified death, and an intelligent, capable son who would carry on the Crichton tradition in a manner
none of his ancestors ever would have predicted.
Jack looked up and down the street, scanning for latecomers, then locked the front door and snapped off the
outside light. He moved through the house, turning off every light so any stragglers would know he was out of
goodies, then moved by habit through the darkened kitchen and out the back door. He wanted to sit in the
dark and reflect on the possibilities of past and future as he had done on the last three Halloweens,
undisturbed by the neighbors or wandering hobgoblins.
“Don’t jump,” a male voice commanded.
“Jesus Christ!” Jack exploded, grabbing at the railing to keep himself from falling down the back steps. “Don’t
jump, my ass. Who’s there?”
A tall figure moved out of the shadows, stepping into the rectangle of light spilling from the downstairs
bathroom, the only light he hadn’t extinguished.
“John?” Jack moved forward, peering at him through the gloom. “Is that you, son?”
“Yes.” The single word let something loose inside, something he’d never allowed to run free when he’d been
with his son before, and Jack took three fast steps forward to embrace him. “Take it easy, Dad. I’m fine,” John
laughed into his ear, and pulled him into a bearhug, clutching him tightly.
“When … where … Wait a minute. When did you come here from?” Jack backed away to look at him again.
His son was young. The gray hair and wrinkles were gone. There was experience, sorrow and pain written on
his face, but none of the heart-stopping emptiness that had been there the last time he’d looked into those
eyes. “You’re young. John, I have to warn you …”
“It’s okay, melnatsa, we came from after that,” another voice laughed from the dark. Ian stepped up beside his
father, a little older and an inch or two taller, the first hint of a mustache feathering his upper lip. “I told you I
got it right,” the young man aimed at his father.
“Rub it in,” John sneered, taking a light-hearted swing at his son’s head. “He never lets me drive anymore.”
“You get lost in wormholes, John,” Aeryn added from behind Jack.
“You three are going to give me a heart attack if you don’t stop sneaking up on me,” Jack complained,
recovering from his second fright. “How did you get back there without my seeing you?” he asked Aeryn.
“I was in the kitchen,” she smiled at him. “You move noisy.”
Jack returned to the sight of his son and his grandson standing together. “Ian’s older, but you’re younger.” He
reached out to touch John’s cheek, fingering the unwrinkled surface, finding muscle tone and the firmness of
healthy tissue there. “How? Are you all right now? The treatment worked, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, Dad. That was two cycles ago and I’m doing fine. It took a while, but I was ordered to fight like hell, so I
didn’t have any choice except to get better.” John’s grin gleamed for a moment in the angling light.
“I said something like that …” Jack looked at Aeryn for a moment, remembering his words in the leviathan’s
sickbay. “There was a DRD there somewhere,” he concluded as all three laughed.
“Pilot showed me the recording once everyone was sure I wouldn’t turn around and forget it right away,” John
kidded, apparently at ease with his past dementia. He sobered slightly, moving closer to Jack. “The only thing
is, the resequencing did a little more than cure the Alzheimer’s. It set my clock back a bit. Dad … it gave me
more time with Aeryn and Ian. A lot more time. I’ve got an extra twenty or thirty cycles now, probably even
more. We aren’t sure yet, but the Kallimitri seem to have done something that’s slowing the aging process
down.” John stopped, his voice dropping an extra octave during his last sentence. “I couldn’t get on with my
life without coming back to thank you. And I didn’t get to …” he was breathing hard, fighting to stay in
control.
“You didn’t get to talk to me,” Jack finished for his son. He could see the outline of John’s head nodding in the
dark. “Can you come inside for a little bit? So I can see you better?”
“We can’t stay long,” Ian interjected.
“A few microts, Ian,” John insisted.
“Not many.”
“What’s going on?” Jack inquired, watching their bodies transmitting something approaching alarm.
“Why the rush?”
“Ask Ian, he’s the pro. He can surf wormholes like I can beat you at Scrabble,” John joked, referring to an
almost forgotten series of hideously lopsided scores during his teens. “If he says we have to go, we have to
go.”
“I thought you were the expert.” A piece of a conversation exploded out of Jack’s memory.
“Dad has always said that the universe was my birthright; that I was part of it and it was part of me.”
Ian’s comment rang in his memory as loudly as if he’d just uttered the words into the cold night air.
“Oh my god,” Jack breathed, “I thought D’Argo was letting Ian drive for the practice, that he or Aeryn had given
him the coordinates or vectors or whatever you want to call it. But it was Ian who was selecting the right
wormhole and where to get out.” Every moment of his trip to and from Moya was seen in a new light, comments
and shared looks suddenly twisting into a new pattern –- one that made far more sense.
His son … his strong, healthy, alert son was nodding in the light from indoors. “Ian was born with the
knowledge, Dad. I didn’t want anyone else to carry the burden of knowing how to use wormholes, but it was
imbedded on a genetic level and it got passed on to Ian. Wormhole knowledge is his birthright. He can find an
instant in time and space like a Kallimitri geneticist picks apart helixes. It’s still incredibly dangerous, and we
could screw up universes in ways you and I can’t begin to imagine, but he can do the one thing I never could.”
“What’s that?”
“This. What we’re doing right now. He can bring us home for a visit every once in a great while. Ian can sense
how to jump in time without frelling the entire universe, which means you can see him as he grows, and he can
bring your great-grand-children home for the occasional visit when the conditions are correct. We’re not talking
every year, but we’ll stop by whenever he says the time is right.” John gathered his son under his arm and
squeezed his shoulder, every inch of his silhouette shouting of his pride in Ian’s abilities. “He says he’ll do his
best to visit on dates that occur after tonight.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Jack growled at them, trying to envision the confusion that would occur if they showed
up before he’d met them for the first time. “So everything turned out all right, melnatnic?” he asked his
grandson.
“You were right,” Ian admitted, hanging his head for a moment. He raised it again and looked into Jack’s eyes,
his gaze flickering to where Aeryn was sitting on the back steps and then looking directly at his grandfather
again. “You were right about everything.”
“I’m glad … for all of you.” Jack turned to stare at Aeryn for several moments, then studied his son again, fixing
the dark clothes, the weapons, the assurance, and the obvious strong emotional bond in his mind for all time.
A lump formed in his throat as he considered their bizarre life, one he couldn’t have ever dreamed up on his
own, and compared it to his day-to-day existence of mowing the lawn, buying groceries, and doing the dishes.
“I miss you,” he said to all three, choking on the painful constriction in his throat.
“We’ll come by as often as we can,” John offered, stepping close. “This set-up was the first one Ian’s been able
to locate in two cycles, so we decided to come through even though it was going to be a quick visit. He thinks
he can find a longer interval in the next half-cycle.” John moved to within a foot of his father, staring intently at
the older man. “I’ll stay on him, Dad. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”
“We need to go,” Ian’s quiet voice urged out of the dark.
Aeryn moved off the steps and went to stand by Ian. “We’ll be back,” she promised. “Thank you for giving him
back to us.” The accent was no less thick, but her meaning was crystal clear. This family was intact because he’
d insisted on taking a chance that could have consigned him to John’s fate -- permanent exile in a distant
portion of the universe. If he hadn’t gone with them that night, John wouldn’t be here now.
“I’ll be seeing you, Dad.” Father and son stared at each other, their tense postures identical as they faced the
uncertainty of when they’d be able to see each other again.
“John … I’ve never been one to …” Jack broke off, feeling entirely out of his element. John reached out and
pulled his father into a hug, clinging to him fiercely for several microts and Jack returned the embrace in full
measure, comforted to have his son’s sturdy body in his arms even if only for a few seconds. John backed
away and Jack had one clear sight of the happy smile, the light in the eyes, and the confidence that he’d
thought might be gone forever when he’d seen him last.
“I’ll leave a light on,” Jack assured him.
“That’ll run up the electrical bills a bit, don’t you think?”
Jack squinted into the dark, keeping his eyes on the family as long as he could. John lingered, staring back at
his father, Aeryn and Ian waiting just behind him. Jack nodded, content with the way they were saying goodbye
this time.
John pointed into the night sky. “Look up. We’ll always be there. Even if you can’t see us, we’ll be there.” The
trio began to fade into the dark.
“I love you, John,” Jack called after him.
“I love you, Dad. See you soon.” There was a swirling flicker of a black overcoat, and then they were gone
except for the sound of their feet rustling through the drifts of autumn leaves and the echoes of their laughter
as John and Aeryn hurried into the dark, following their son to their place in the stars.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
