John awoke to a cacophony of voices mixed with an annoying stench. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. "What the—"

He was in his module. Yes, it was his module...except—Where were the alterations he had made from Moya? He focused hazily on the bright light-no- Sun! Where the frell had he landed?

Some bipedal creatures where surveying the module and looked like they were—

The creatures were trying to get John out. Not one to panic, John merely reached for his pulsar pistol . . ."OK," he thought, "that's just great! My pulsar is gone too!" There was no way in Hezmana he would have left Moya unarmed. Not unless he hadn't a choice in leaving.

Two bipeds had succeeded in opening the hatch. They wore strange, almost biohazard suits. The first words John could make out were, "Move! Move! Move!" John was yanked from the cockpit, restrained on a cold metal gurney, and wheeled into an EMS van before he had a chance to object.

****

He didn't know how much time passed, but when John Crichton awoke, he had a splitting headache. Groaning as he sat up, he examined his surroundings, and found himself to be naked. "Ah, this is just great!"

Searching for clothes, he grabbed a sheer white blanket that lay on the other side of the blank room. Just as he tied the blanket around his waist, a young woman appeared clad in medical-looking attire.

"Are you John Crichton?" As she said this, she shifted her thin-framed glasses.

For a moment, John was unable to speak.

The woman wrote on her clipboard, mouthing as she wrote, "Patient unaware of surroundings... unable to respond..."

"Uh . . .yeah. I'm John Crichton."

"Ahh, he speaks!" She barely let herself smile.

"Ummm . . .where are my clothes?"

"So long as you're who you say you are, here . . ." She helped him back into the examination table. "We have just a few more tests to run, then you'll be free to go. You had a nasty concussion there!"

John reached up to feel where his head ached. "YAOW!" he reacted. The doctor had tried to prevent him from doing so, without luck.

"I'm afraid we had to give you over nineteen stiches."

He attempted to sit up again, but he felt dizzy.

"Just lay here awhile until we've gotten back the blood tests and cranial x-rays." John seemed to concede so she took her clipboard and exited, leaving John to think.

As he lay there, he tried to think about what had happened, but his head ached so fiercely- concentrating on one thing was an impossible task.

****

John must have fallen asleep because when he awoke, the woman and three other doctors were in the room speaking in hushed voices. "Ah, I see the patient is awake," one of the doctors said. "Your father has been worried about you."

John sat up and began pulling on the ugly pants and shirt (which refused to fit properly), which the doctors had provided for him. "Where's my stuff?" John asked. "And where's my module?"

“Questions will be answered in time. We are through with you for now, but I know IASA will have plenty of questions to ask you."

John, utterly confused, could really care less. "At least the headache is gone," he smiled ruefully to himself.

He was escorted by the male doctor who had spoken to him out of the white room, which had been extremely bright, and into the darkened hallway. "Oh yay!" John exclaimed as they approached their destination. "A quarantine room!" This whole situation was becoming more and more familiar.

"No, not quarantine. Decontamination centre."

"Oh, I see! That's even better!" he cried mock-enthusiastically. Unlike the false Erp-Earth, John noticed the newspapers were not from the day he left, but from the day after he had gone up in his module. However, the rest of his scenario was exactly the same. He decided to have a little fun with the guard posted outside of his chamber.

"Hey! Hey you!" John tapped the glass. He thought this would be fun. "Who won the Superbowl?"

The guard turned to face him. "It hasn't been played yet, you dumbass!"

John was taken slightly aback. That hadn't been the guard's reaction last time. He figured he'd give it another go. "OK, well who won college basketball?"

"Michigan State. They played last night. What? Do you live in a hole or something?"
 

"Huh . . ." John sat back down. This was not the false Earth. Finally a familiar face showed up. "Dad!"

His father entered the chamber. "Son, I'm so glad you're all right. I heard about your concussion. They didn't let me in to see until they were certain—I'm so glad you're OK." He hugged him, careful to avoid places of injury.

John relished the moment, not caring if this man was really his father or not. "I'm fine Dad. How's the module?"

His father pulled away from him. "Well . . .let's just say she's seen better days."

"That bad, huh?"

His father nodded.

John sat and his father sat with him. He cleared his throat. "How long have I been gone, Dad?"

"Gone? What are you talking about?"

"Through the wormhole, you know." John gestured. "I blasted through the wormhole and ended up on the other side of the galaxy. I lived on a living ship for . . .let's see um . . .almost two cycles and now I’m all of a sudden here!"

He didn't see the emotion in his father's speechless features.

"I'd really like someone to enlighten me as to what the frell is going on!" John couldn't believe his own dad wouldn't believe him.

His father shook his head. "Musta hit your head pretty hard huh, son?"

"Hit my head?" John was nearly about to explode. "Look, I ain't Dorothy and I didn't hang out with the Tin Man and Scarecrow. I was living on Moya with a Luxan, a Delvian . . .a Nebari, and Kermit-the-frog looking Hynerian, and ah . . .a Sebacean."

"Uh, that's nice, son." He stood up to exit the chamber.

"Dad! Dad, you've got to believe me I don't know how I got back, but I know where I've been."

His father left without another word and approached the group of doctors. "Just like you described," he said sadly. "He's far gone. Went on rambling about a living ship. I really don't know what to say—" There was great weight in his eyes as he said this.

The female doctor put a comforting hand on the older man's shoulders. "It's all right, sir. We'll take it from here."

"When will he be able to come home?"

The more elderly doctor spoke up, "At least one more day sir, no more than that."