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Buck Rogers found himself blinking, and in the blink of an eye, he was back inside the familiar confines of his starfighter's cockpit. The exhilarating rush of lightspeed propelled him towards Earth, where his friends and loved ones eagerly awaited his return. It dawned on him that exhaustion must have overtaken him during his solitary voyage, causing him to drift into a deep slumber and embark on a vivid dream.
"A dream," he said aloud, his voice filled with a tinge of disappointment, "just a dream." He let out a sigh, realizing that the vivid images and emotions he had experienced were nothing more than figments of his imagination.
But what was this dream about? As he pondered over the question, fragments of the dream began to resurface in his mind. He remembered walking through a lush forest, sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and birdsong filled his ears. There was a sense of tranquility and peace that enveloped him as he wandered deeper into this ethereal realm.
Yet there was something more to this dream than just its idyllic setting. Flashes of faces and voices flickered in his memory, but they remained elusive, like distant echoes fading away. It was as if there were hidden messages within this dream, waiting to be decoded.
None of that held any significance in the present moment. Buck was finally making his way back to what he considered his normal life, or rather, what could be considered normal in the waning years of the 25th century. The Inner City, his adopted home, reigned over Earth with grandeur and opulence, while vast stretches of the planet's surface remained a tumultuous wasteland, ravaged by radiation. Within these desolate lands roamed savages, mutants, and unimaginable creatures that prowled among the remnants of a civilization long gone. It was a civilization whose leaders - politicians and militarists alike - had guided it towards an inevitable Armageddon.
"Starfighter 1314, this is Captain Buck Rogers requesting permission to enter the Stargate," Buck barked confidently into his helmet microphone, his voice echoing through the vastness of space. The anticipation of returning to familiar territory surged within him, fueling his determination.
A calm yet authoritative voice crackled through the communication channel: "Starfighter 1314, permission granted. Welcome back, Captain Rogers. We've missed your expertise out here."
A surge of pride swelled within Buck's chest as he acknowledged the ground controller's warm welcome. "It's damn good to be back," he replied with a hint of nostalgia lacing his words. The memories of past missions flooded his mind, reminding him of the countless lives he had saved and the battles he had fought.
As Buck hastily wiped his mouth across his worn uniform sleeve, his fatigued eyes were suddenly drawn to the Star Gate's four stars. In an instant, they burst into a dazzling display of radiance, illuminating the space around him. The stars gleamed with an otherworldly brilliance, positioned in a flawless diamond formation that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Just as Buck's ears anticipated the sound of thunder, a deafening clap reverberated through the airless void, accompanied by an intense and blinding flash of light.
As Buck's normal vision returned to him, he was astonished to find himself hurtling past the majestic rings of Saturn, the colossal presence of Jupiter, and the rusty-red allure of Mars. With a sense of exhilaration coursing through his veins, he continued his descent towards Earth. As he pierced through the atmosphere, a rush of adrenaline accompanied his final approach to the awe-inspiring dome that encapsulated the Inner City.
As Buck's sleek starfigher descended upon the defense squadron spacefield, its powerful engines roared, and its advanced guidance systems flawlessly guided it towards a smooth landing. The technological marvel before him was a testament to how far spacecraft had evolved since Buck's youth, surpassing the primitive designs of his early days just as those designs had surpassed the motorized boxkites of the Wright Brothers.
The starfighter rockets were equipped with state-of-the-art computers, boasting a level of complexity and speed that would have left even the most skilled 20th century electronics engineers both bewildered and enthralled. Buck Rogers, however, had no qualms about entrusting these advanced machines to handle all the everyday operational and diagnostic tasks of his space fighter. Yet, when faced with critical moments, Buck always took control and piloted his own ship.
Buck skillfully landed his starfighter on the smooth tarmac, relinquishing control to the advanced computer systems. With their ability to monitor every aspect of the rocket's condition, they could efficiently shut down power systems and alert maintenance crews for any needed servicing. This was crucial before the craft would be summoned again for its next mission, which most likely entailed routing training exercises and patrol duties in the vast expanse of space beyond Earth's atmosphere.
The exhausted pilot wearily hoisted himself out of the starfighter's cockpit, his fatigued muscles protesting every movement. "Boy, can I use a hot shower and a warm meal," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the ship's engines. As he stepped onto the metallic floor of the hangar bay, Buck's eyes widened in surprise. He scanned his surroundings, taking in the vast expanse of the Inner City spacefield.
The hangar bay stretched out before him, its immense size dwarfing even the largest starfighters parked within it. The air was filled with a scent of fuel and metal, mingling with the distant echoes of machinery at work.
Buck's gaze drifted towards a row of sleek computers lining one side of the hangar bay. Each monitor flickered with data streams and intricate diagrams, displaying the schematics for hundreds of different spacecrafts. Buck couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as he imagined himself piloting one of those spacecrafts, embarking on his own thrilling space adventure.
Suddenly, Buck looked all around the hangar bay, noticing that it was deserted. "Hey!" he shouted. "Where is everyone?"
"Captain Rogers," Buck's crewchief called, jogging towards the rocket. "Captain Rogers, I....I think Dr. Huer called a meeting."
Buck's curiosity piqued as he noticed the urgency in his crewchief's voice. "A meeting? That sounds important. I'll quickly drop off my gear and head over to see what it's all about."
With a sense of anticipation, Buck swiftly made his way to his living quarters. As he entered the familiar space, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him inside. The room seemed unusually quiet, adding to the intrigue that had already taken hold of his thoughts.
"Surprise!!!"
"Happy Anniversary, Buck!" exclaimed Lt. Adams with a wide grin on his face.
"Hard to believe you've been with us for a whole year," Corporal Bennett chimed in, her voice filled with genuine admiration.
"I'm glad for the chance to have gotten to know you," added Specialist Carter, nodding approvingly.
"You really deserve it, kid," Lt. Davis said warmly, patting Buck on the back.
"We'd all like to thank you, Buck," Specialist Evans said sincerly, her eyes shining with appreciation.
Buck stood there in awe as he took in the sight of his living quarters transformed into a festive wonderland. Balloons of every imaginable color floated above him while vibrant streamers adorned the walls and ceiling. The room was buzzing with excitement and anticipation.
"Buck!!!"
The greeting resonated through the bustling crowd, capturing Buck's attention instantly. He turned his head to locate the source of the voice and was met with a breathtaking sight. A stunning blonde soldier, her radiant smile cutting through the sea of people, was determinedly making her way towards him.
As she maneuvered through the throng, Buck couldn't help but admire her striking appearance. Her golden locks cascaded down in loose waves, framing a face that exuded confidence and strength. Her piercing eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and familiarity as she closed the distance between them.
Dressed in an impeccably tailored black dress uniform, she stood out among her fellow soldiers. The fabric clung to her athletic figure, accentuating every curve and line with precision. The jacket hugged her torso perfectly, adorned with golden buttons that gleamed under the bright lights of the room.
She was a brilliant colonel in the defense squadron, Wilma Deering, renowned for her strategic brilliance and unwavering devotion to the cause. Under her guidance, the squadron continued to train rigorously, honing their skills and mastering complex maneuvers with precision and finesse. Yet, despite their remarkable progress, Colonel Deering couldn't help but fret over one particular individual---Buck himself.
Buck's establishment in the Intercept Squadron had undeniably brought with it an unparalleled set of flying and fighting skills that surpassed even the most seasoned veterans in the Inner City. His natural talent seemed almost otherworldly, as if he'd been born to conquer the vast expanse of space. However, along with his exceptional abilities came a series of thorny problems that plagued Colonel Deering's distinguished career.
It wasn't just Buck's penchant for recklessness that bothered her; it was his inability to form meaningful connections with those around him. Despite being surrounded by comrades who admired and respected him.
"Wilma, was this your idea? Is that why you sent me off on that last mission?" Buck's mind raced as he confronted his superior officer. He couldn't shake the memory of her harsh tone before he left, the words still echoing in his ears. "Captain Rogers, since you obeyed my orders so well, your reward will be a month-long patrol in the Nebulon-9 system. Not a very pleasant assignment, but you chose your destiny."
All that time Buck sat alone in his cockpit, hurtling through space towards an unknown destination, he couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal. The Nebulon-9 system was notorious for its desolate and unforgiving nature. It was a place where dreams went to die, and hope faded away like distant stars.
But now, as Buck pondered over Wilma's intentions, a new thought crossed his mind. Was there more to this punishment than met the eye? Was there a hidden purpose behind the punishment, something that could ultimately lead to his redemption?
Wilma smiled back at Buck, a sense of pride welling up within her. It was her brilliant idea that had led them to this moment, but she couldn't bring herself to boast about it. Modesty was her virtue, after all. "Never mind," she said, trying to downplay her role. "You must really enjoy being here. I mean, you always come back, don't you? And now, look at you! You've made it through an entire year." Her voice held a hint of admiration as she glanced at the captain's determined face.
A playful glimmer danced in the captain's eyes as the reminisced about their first day together. "Ah yes," the captain chuckled. "I remember it like it was yesterday. We were both so green and unsure. It seemed like we might not make it through that daunting first day."
Wilma's smile widened as she recalled the challenges they had faced on that fateful day.
"I'd search that flying palace before letting it through the Stargate!"
"That's an insulting start to an alliance based on good faith."
"Good faith negotiating. Just like the empty promises from my own government." Buck had remarked bitterly, gesturing towards the plastic city with its protective dome. "We're left with a ruined outside. We need to go up there armed and ready to fight. Full squadrons, prepared to defend ourselves. If we're wrong, we can claim it was an honorable military mission. It may not fool anyone, but at least it saves face. Otherwise, we're just sitting ducks!"
Wilma quipped, "You've been asleep for centuries, yet you're quite opinionated about a world you didn't create."
"Yeah," Buck snapped. "It's not my business how you destroy your world. My generation messed it up too, and it seems like we ruined everything right after I went to sleep. I guess that's karma for you. Thanks, Colonel. Go back to bed and dream sweetly."
He turned and walked away, through the vast hangar.
"Stop right there, Rogers! Where do you think you're headed?" Wilma Deering now held full military command.
Buck declined, opting to venture beyond the city.
Wilma chased after him, shouting in horror, "No! You'll die, Buck!"
"I must uncover the truth about my people," he insisted.
"It's forbidden," came the stern reply.
"You can't be serious! This country was once free, Colonel."
"Captain Rogers, you're my prisoner now. I may not like it, but I'm your guard. Escaping is not an option."
"You can't stop me," Captain Rogers challenged.
She placed her hand on her holster. "I can, Buck. Don't force me to."
He counted down---ten----nine---eight---a sound behind him----seven----resisting the urge to look back, fearing eye-contact with Wilma.....six....five....a soft sob, trembling as he walked on.....four....halfway mark in his march towards safety, shadows closing in. Then the world ended.
Buck never knew what hit him. No explosion, no propellant fuel, no electrical discharge. No impact, flash, or burned cordite smell.
There was nothing.
In a sudden shift of emotions, Buck's mood took a serious turn as his flashback came to an end. The once festive atmosphere surrounding him quickly dissipated, causing his ear-to-grin to transform into a pronounced frown. His eyes narrowed in concern as he addressed Wilma, his voice filled with a mix of disappointment and apprehension.
"You could have killed me, Wilma," Buck said, his tone laced with a hint of accusation.
In response, Wilma maintained her calm demeanor and met Buck's gaze steadily. With a slight smirk playing on her lips, she replied, her words dripping with a hint of mischief.
"True," she admitted, "but who got you off the Draconia before the magazine detonated?"
Buck's frown softened, a glimmer of gratitude appearing in his eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled the events that had transpired.
"You, of course," he acknowledged warmly. "And that was just the beginning."
Wilma's attention returned to the celebration, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Oh, I almost forgot," she exclaimed, reaching into her pocket. With a mischievous smile, she pulled out a small envelope and handed it to Buck.
Curiosity danced in Buck's eyes as he took the envelope from Wilma's outstretched hand. He carefully opened it and was greeted by a series of pictures neatly arranged inside. His heart skipped a beat as he realized they were pictures of his family---his parents, his siblings, and even his childhood dog.
A wave of nostalgia washed over Buck as he gazed at each picture, memories flooding back like a tidal wave. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of his parents' proud faces and his siblings' playful antics frozen in time. It had been years since he had seen them all together like this.
But then something caught his eye---a picture that stood out from the rest. It was a snapshot of him, Wilma, Dr. Huer, and Twiki.
Just then, Buck's mind raced as he remembered an important detail that he should have asked about earlier. His eyes widened with curiosity as he turned to face Wilma, his voice filled with urgency.
"Wilma," Buck began, his tone laced with a mix of intrigue and concern, "where on earth did you manage to get your hands on this?"
"Remember that night we stayed up talking until dawn?" Wilma asked, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips. "I know you always will. You talked about your family and how much you loved them."
Buck's eyes sparkled with fond memories as he nodded in agreement. "Ah, yes. My family," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "But---the picture. How---?"
"We used a special process which photographs mental images," Wilma replied, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and nostalgia.
Buck's curiosity piqued as he tried to wrap his head around the concept of Cerebro-photography. He had heard of it before, but only in passing conversations and scientific articles. It was a groundbreaking technique that allowed individuals to capture their mental images and preserve them in a tangible form.
"But... why?" Buck finally managed to ask, his eyes searching Wilma's face for an answer.
Wilma's gaze softened, her eyes reflecting the depth of emotions she felt. "Because you became so much a part of me," she said softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I felt I knew them."
Buck's heart skipped a beat as he absorbed her words. The realization washed over him like a wave crashing onto the shore. In their time together, they had shared countless memories, experiences, and emotions. They had laughed together, but now he couldn't help but wonder if their connection was starting to fade.
Around midnight, Inner City time, the celebration ended, as all celebrations must, and Captain Buck Rogers was left alone with his thoughts. The echoes of laughter and music slowly faded away, leaving behind a profound sense of emptiness. He found solace in the memories captured within the photographs Wilma had given him, but one picture stood out among the rest - the image of his beloved family.
As he gazed at their smiling faces frozen in time, a bittersweet wave of emotions washed over him. It had been years since he last saw them, since he embarked on his interstellar journey to protect Earth from impending doom. The weight of his duty had kept him apart from those he held dear, sacrificing personal happiness for the greater good.
Lost in contemplation, Buck suddenly became aware of a faint whispering sound that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. His heart skipped a beat as a voice gently caressed his ear with familiarity. "Hello, Buck," it whispered softly.
"Without explanation, Buck recognized who was talking to him and knew why.
"John? That you?" Buck asked cautiously, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
"Buck, watch yourself! Only you can see me, no one else can," John replied cryptically.
Buck's mind raced with questions. How was it possible that only he could see John? What did he mean by "watch yourself"? But before he could delve deeper into those mysteries, another urgent matter took precedence.
"You know, John? About that atomic missile?" Buck began hesitantly. "I need to talk to my superiors. You see...."
"What is the Fourth Dimension?" He heard John's voice in his ear again. The urgency of his friend's tone only added to Buck's pressure. He knew he had to come up with an answer, and fast.
"What is the Fourth Dimension?" John repeated, his voice filled with anticipation.
Buck furrowed his brow, trying to push aside the distractions and focus solely on the question. He closed his eyes briefly, hoping that shutting out the world around him would help clear his mind.
"Let me think!" Buck said, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. He couldn't let John down; he had to prove himself worthy of this challenge.
As he delved deeper into his thoughts, Buck's mind began to race. Images and ideas flashed before him like fragments of a puzzle waiting to be assembled. And then it happened---the answer came to him in a flash: "The Fourth Dimension is----time!"
"Buck, I daresay you've outdone yourself! Your exceptional performance here not only showcases your remarkable abilities but also hints at the incredible potential you possess. It's becoming increasingly evident that had you pursued a career in physics, you would have undoubtedly soared to great heights and achieved tremendous success."
"John, don't keep me in suspense too much longer," Buck pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. The tension in the room was palpable as they both searched for answers. "I don't see----the connection between the two things."
John's eyes softened with understanding as he leaned closer to Buck, his voice equally hushed. "Then let us find it," he said gently, his words carrying a sense of determination. "Now, what do you know about one particular astronaut who came before you----Colonel George Taylor?"
Buck scratched his head, deep in thought. "Taylor? He was a little before my time," he began, his brow furrowing. "They said he was something of a mystery. A detached, cold kinda guy, if y'know what I mean."
John leaned forward, intrigued. "And?" he gently prodded. "Is that all that comes to your mind?"
Buck hesitated for a moment before continuing, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Well....I know that his ship, the Icarus, mysterious disappeared from telemetry," he said, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the rumors surrounding Taylor's enigmatic disappearance. "Nobody ever found out where Taylor and his crew landed---if they did, that is."
As Buck spoke those words, a shiver ran down his spine. The mention of the Icarus and its vanishing act brought back memories of countless conspiracy theories and whispered tales of otherworldly encounters.
"What was their mission?" John's voice now took on the stern tones of an impatient schoolmarm.
"They were to embark on a daring journey, venturing into the vast expanse of space to reach another star," Buck recalled, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Their purpose? To plant Man's seed on a distant celestial body, to spread our existence beyond the confines of Earth."
As he spoke, Buck's' mind wandered to the immense challenges that awaited those brave souls. The thought of traversing unimaginable distances, defying the laws of physics, and venturing into the unknown filled with a mix of awe and trepidation.
"After six long months aboard the spacecraft," Buck continued, his voice tinged with admiration for their unwavering determination, "the crew was to undergo a remarkable process. They would be placed in suspended animation, a state where time itself seemed to halt, using a specially formulated drug that would keep them sedated and confined within stasis pods."
"Do you remember why some said the craft was at least a decade ahead of its time?" John's voice grew in emphasis, his eyes locked onto Buck's. The room fell silent, the weight of the question hanging in the air.
Buck furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Memories flooded his mind, fragments of conversations and whispers from years ago. He recalled the awe and wonder that surrounded the craft, its sleek design and advanced technology that seemed to defy all known boundaries. It was hailed as a marvel, a breakthrough that surpassed anything humanity had ever seen before.
A Buck delved deeper into his memories, he realized that it wasn't just about the craft itself. It was about what it represented---a leap forward in human innovation and progress. The world had never witnessed such an extraordinary feat of engineering and ingenuity. The craft's capabilities were so far beyond anything imaginable at that time. But why was this knowledge so crucial to Buck's mission?
"I....Buck struggled mentally. "Well, there was this wunderkind, Hasslein. who had a theory that a spaceship traveling at the speed of light would be able to travel through the 4th dimension. But nobody----nobody believed him. They thought he was just a mad scientist with wild ideas." Buck paused, his mind racing to gather more information.
"You have only solved part of the riddle," John admonished, his voice echoing in Buck's head. "What is the rest of it?"
"Please!" Buck pleaded with the phantom, his voice trembling with exhaustion. "Tell me what I need to know!"
As if sensing Buck's desperation, the phantom began to shimmer. "There are limits to what I can do," John shook his head, frustration on his face. "I thought I'd made that clear."
"Yes, I know, I know! But...." Buck's voice trailed off as he pounded his fist on a nearby nightstand, the sound reverberating through the room. "God! It's not easy being the only 500-year-old man in the 25th century."
John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You're not," he let that much slip.
"What...?" Buck exclaimed, his confusion deepening with each passing moment. The revelation hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him utterly baffled. "Taylor! He's still alive and here, in this time!" Buck's mind raced as he tried to process the implications of this astonishing discovery. It meant that Hasslein had been right all along---Taylor's spacecraft had indeed traveled forward in time.
But amidst the elation, bitterness crept into Buck's voice as he muttered through gritted teeth, "Why didn't you recruit him for this?" The question hung heavily in the air, filled with regret and frustration. It seemed inconceivable that they had overlooked someone who possessed firsthand knowledge of the future they were trying to achieve, and now they were left to wonder what opportunities had been missed by not including Taylor in their mission.
"Because Taylor is not like you, contrary to what you might have heard about him," John explained with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "You are a humanist. Taylor, by contrast, is a misanthrope. A hater of his own race. He left Earth because he genuinely believed that life here was utterly meaningless. He despised people, finding their presence and interactions to be nothing more than an endless source of frustration and disappointment. In his eyes, humanity was a collective burden that he desperately sought to escape."
John paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "You see, Taylor saw his mission as more than just an opportunity to explore the vastness of space. It was his means to an end, a way for him to distance himself from the very essence of humanity that he found so repulsive. To him, leaving Earth behind was not only an act of liberation but also a necessary step towards preserving his own sanity."
The room fell into silence as John's words hung in the air.
"Such beings are utterly useless to us," John declared with a tone of finality.
"Believe me, we meticulously analyzed every conceivable variable, drawing upon our vast accumulated knowledge of both of you."
"Yeah, I guess you did," Buck sighed, his joyous mood of several hours ago turning now to a heavy cloud of depression. The vibrant colors of the room seemed to dull as John faded from sight, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The weight of loneliness settled upon his shoulders, reminding him of the vastness of space and the isolation it brought.
With a heavy heart, Buck trudged to his bedroom, feeling the weight of each step as if he were carrying the burden of the entire universe. He knew he couldn't bear this burden alone; he needed someone to confide in, someone who could help him make sense of these overwhelming emotions.
As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Buck made up his mind. He would seek solace and guidance from Dr. Huer in the morning.
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