This is a story I wrote back in 1996 that I dusted off and tweaked a bit during the summer of 1999. As always, Sliders and all related characters and stuff aren't mine and I'm just borrowing them from Universal/Saint Claire and the Sci-Fi Channel. This story may be freely distributed under the conditions that it not be altered and/or sold.

This story takes place about mid-way through the third season and contains spoilers for "Invasion" and "Double Cross"

One of the last things Rembrandt Brown ever thought he would enjoy - or even get used to for that matter - was flying through the vortex tunnel. That mind-bending out of control joyride through the multi-colored tube slowly began to grow on him as his days as a slider grew longer and longer.

It was the closest he would ever know to being able to fly. Not in an airplane or anything like that... actual flying like Superman. There was no plane, no parachute, and absolutely no control whatsoever - which turned out to be the one major downside to traveling through the vortex.

But that didn't matter to him. Not now. He'd worry about that in the twenty or thirty seconds he had left before they all exited the tunnel. For now, he held his arms out and closed his eyes savoring the moment of freedom.

He was flying.

A quickly approaching light appeared at the end of the tunnel indicating that the ride was almost over. Soon, the sliders would be airborne in the physical world where gravity was king and then, as all of them knew, the hurting would begin.

Maybe it would be a mercifully soft place like a field of overgrown grass or maybe even a pillow factory... hey, it could happen!

On the other hand, it could just as well be rock cliff, the rabies quarantine of an animal shelter, or the lion's cage at the zoo. Ever since Logan Saint Claire screwed around with that doohickey in the timer, he and the others had slid all over the west coast of the country. San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, Death Valley, Las Vegas... anywhere in a four-hundred mile radius. At least they hadn't landed in the middle of the ocean.

Well... not yet anyway, but the day is young.

Rembrandt braced himself as the light became blinding. It was time for touchdown.

Quinn Mallory slammed into a cold metal wall and shook his head trying to quiet the ringing. Wait a minute, he thought, This isn't a wall. This is a floor. He tried to stand but then found himself rising away from the "floor".

The small room he'd found himself in was obviously a closet of a storage compartment of some sort. It would have been completely black too if it hadn't been for the blue iridescence of the wormhole.

Quinn tried to get out of the way to give his friends a landing area, but his body wouldn't move the way he wanted it to. Sure, he could move his arms and legs just fine, but it appeared that the laws of friction and gravity weren't working quite the way they should have.

Wade Welles entered the new dimension next. She hit Quinn in the midsection knocking them both back into the wall... or floor... or whatever. Professor Maximillion Arturo hit the duo next sending them into the wall... floor.... or whatever a second time. When Rembrandt arrived, the complete group of sliders hit the wall... floor... or whatever together. Then the vortex closed, leaving the sliders in absolute darkness.

Arturo spoke first, "Ow..." he said.

"Ohhh...," Wade groaned, not in pain but in misery.

"Are you ok sweetheart?" Rembrandt asked helping, or rather trying to help, Wade get up. He had the same problem Quinn did. His body wasn't moving quite as he expected.

"I'm fine," wade answered, "I just feel a little... excuse me...," he held her mouth with her hand for a second, "...sick."

"Sick?" Arturo asked.

Wade nodded, which really didn't make any sense because no one could see her do it, "It's weird. It's like being carsick. I can feel my stomach floating in my throat."

"I know what you mean," choked Rembrandt succumbing to the mysterious sickness.

"Let's see if we can't find a way out of... Oh dear...," Arturo groaned.

"Professor?" Quinn inquired, sensing the mixture of fear and confusion in his teacher's voice.

"I say, are any of the rest of you experiencing the same loss of coordination I am?"

"Yes," Quinn answered, "It's like we're..."

"...weightless," Arturo finished.

Light exploded into the storage room as the door flew open. It was blinding. Quinn tumbled out of the small storage room and kept tumbling. In the flurry of confusion, Quinn stuck his arm out and managed to grab onto something to keep him from moving any more. It was a man's leg.

"What the hell are you people doing here!?" The man angrily demanded.

"W-What!?" Quinn stammered as his attention focused on Wade who was floating peacefully by him. She looked too shocked to do anything.

The man literally picked Quinn up and held him above his head, "Who the hell are you people and what are you doing here!?"

"Oh my God!" Rembrandt yelled as he bounced off the ceiling... or the floor... or whatever.

"What the...!?" Wade stuttered. "Where are we?"

The man let go of Quinn, who floated away. "Great, we've got a bunch of crazies here," he sighed as he pulled a gun on them, "Well congratulations gang, you just killed yourself and everyone on this ship."

"This ship?" Arturo asked.

"The Enterprise," The man answered. "And drop the routine, it won't help you." He sighed. "Look, I'm going to talk to the captain... you stay here and don't touch anything for God's sake. You've done enough damage already!" The man floated out of the compartment and shut a door behind him. There was a small click, indicating that he'd locked them inside.

The sliders sat their suspended in the air. Helpless, clueless, and weightless. "What did he mean, he'd done enough damage?" Rembrandt asked. "We just got here!"

The instant Lieutenant Commander Henry Gibbons entered the command deck, the crew of the space shuttle Enterprise knew there was trouble.

"What's wrong Henry?" Captain Donna Smith asked. "Was that bang we heard something serious?"

"Not something," Gibbons sighed, "Someone. We've got some stowaways."

Captain Smith blinked, "Stowaways?"

Gibbons nodded. "You know the procedure, captain. We can't land with them on board."

"Yes, commander," she snapped. "I do know the procedure. It's them or us." She clamped her teeth together. "I choose us, but I want to tell them personally. They may be stowaways, but they have the right to know why they're going to die... why we have to kill them."

"Guys," Wade began, "we're on the Enterprise. We're in space."

"Well that guy didn't look like Captain Kirk or Mr. Spock to me, girl," Rembrant deduced, trying to get a foothold on anything to no avail.

"Professor," Quinn said holding onto what looked like a zero-g seat, "Is it possible? Are we actually in space?"

"Could the timer have landed us in orbit aboard a space shuttle?" Arturo said, finishing Quinn's inquiry, "Highly unlikely, but not impossible. Shuttles usually orbit at an altitude of three-hundred fifty miles which is well-within our four-hundred mile radius."

"Something might have attracted the wormhole up here," Quinn said to himself. "I designed the timer to keep the vortex near the Earth's surface." He grinned and snapped his fingers. "That's it!"

"That's what?" Rembrandt asked.

"The geographic stabilizer!" Quinn remembered.

Wade managed to get her stomach under a little control, 'That thing Logan Saint Clare stole? The thing that was supposed to keep the timer from sliding us all over the place?"

"Yeah, it's possible this shuttle is using something similar to it for navigation," Quinn continued, "If they are, the wormhole would have been attracted to it like a magnet!"

Arturo nodded, "But their 'stabilizer' or whatever the hell they are using would have to be tuned to the exact same frequency as the timer's stabilizer, and I don't mean ballpark figures here, I mean exactly the same frequency! It would be impossible!"

"When it comes to parallel dimensions, anything is possible professor. I mean, we should know that by now," Quinn said while rubbing Wades back trying to keep her from floating away and to keep her from being too nauseous.

"What do you think he meant we he said we'd killed everyone on board?" Wade asked, trying not to vomit.

Arturo sighed, "One mystery at a time please."

Quinn noticed that Rembrandt was leaning up against a wall... or ceiling... or whatever. "You ok crying man?" he asked.

Rembrandt smiled, "Come here and take a look at this," he said.

Quinn, Arturo, and a woozy Wade floated to Rembrandt's position and saw what he was staring at. Through a porthole, there was Earth. A blue sphere of terra and unbelievably blue oceans. "It's beautiful," Rembrant whispered.

The sliders stayed there for a moment, breathless and awed by the Earth below.

"Now that's something I didn't expect to see when I woke up this morning," Wade said silently effectively killing the moment.

"I'm glad you like the view," said a woman's voice.

The sliders twirled around and briefly caught a glimpse of a woman in her mid- forties. That was before they tumbled apart in the weightlessness. Quinn finally managed to right himself. "Are you in charge?" he asked the woman.

"I'm captain Donna Smith of the Enterprise," she answered.

"If this is the Enterprise, where's Mr. Spock," Rembrandt asked, trying to make a joke.

Captain Smith's eyes narrowed, "Who's Mr. Spock?"

"Forget it," Quinn answered, "I'm Quinn Mallory, this is Professor Arturo, Wade Welles, and Rembrandt Brown, and I'm afraid we've got quite a story to tell you."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," Captain Smith said nodding, "How did you get on board? Did you board from the space station? Or did you come on board from Tranquillity base? That's it, isn't it? You wanted to immigrate back to Earth!"

Professor Arturo raised a hand, "Excuse me? Did you say Tranquillity base?"

"Yes"

"As in, the Sea of Tranquillity on the surface of the moon?"

Captain Smith's voice grew angrier, "Unless there's a Tranquillity base somewhere in Washington State I haven't heard of."

Arturo cocked his head, "You just came from the moon!?"

"Yes!" Smith said exasperated, "It's a routine supply drop. We do it all the time."

"Amazing," Quinn whispered, "their space technology has got to be fifty years ahead of ours!"

"What do you mean, 'their' space technology is fifty years ahead?" Captain Smith demanded. "Are you Russians?"

"This may take some time to explain," Arturo said.

"And it's going to be hard to believe." Wade chimed in.

"Why am I not surprised?" Smith grumbled crossing her arms.

Quinn took the timer from his pocket. Captain Smith quickly drew her sidearm, believing the device was a weapon or a bomb. "Whoa! It's ok!" Quinn exclaimed trying to calm the edgy captain's nerves, "It's like this... What if you could travel to parallel worlds where anything is possible? Where it's the same year, and you're the same person, but everything else is different..."

A few minutes later, Captain Donna Smith reentered the command deck.

"Well?" Gibbons asked.

Smith shook her head, "They had one hell of a story to tell."

"I'm sure they did."

"It was the biggest cock-and-bull story I've ever heard. They were talking about traveling to parallel dimensions, different earths, alternate history, killer apes... Would make a hell of a TV show," Captain Smith looked out the window at mother Earth.

"You did tell them, didn't you?"

She shook her head. "It's wrong Henry."

"It's them or us captain," Gibbons said as adjusted a few controls. "Everyone knows that shuttles can't handle extra weight. As far as I'm concerned, they killed themselves the minute they got on this ship."

"Now I know how Sanders felt when he had that group of illegals from Mars."

"He did what he had to do," Gibbons said softly, "Now we have to do what we have to do."

Smith unholstered her sidearm. "I know, commander... but I don't have to like it."

"I don't get it," Rembrandt said shaking his head, "How can these guys have colonies on the moon and Mars? What is this, sci-fi world?"

Arturo had finally anchored his feet under a panel so he would float away, "Obviously on this world... well, on THAT world down there.... there was a driving force for man to explore the stars."

"And for women to command them," Wade added.

"Quite," Arturo said smirking, "maybe in this dimension, there was an environmental disaster on Earth that forced humanity into space or, better yet, the space race never ended. That was the major reason the United States went to the moon after all. To beat the Soviet Union. They did ask if we were Russian, after all."

"Makes perfect sense," Wade concurred, "How long until we slide?"

"About another hour," Quinn said reading the timer.

"Damn, that's a shame," Rembrant said, "Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to be an astronaut."

"A singing astronaut, that's a new one," Wade laughed.

"Before I became the cryin' man, girl!" Rembrandt said slightly annoyed, "Now look at me, I'm orbiting Earth!"

"On the Enterprise even!" Quinn added making the Vulcan hand sign.

"The guys are never going to believe me when we get home," Rembrandt chuckled.

"I'm afraid that isn't going to happen," said the voice of Captain Donna Smith. She was pointing her gun at them.

Quinn backed off, only to loose control again and tumble off, "Hey! can't you put that thing away!?"

Captain Smith held her ground, "It's common procedure. I'm sorry."

Arturo, still firmly anchored, seemed to understand the morbid tone in her voice, "Common procedure? My dear woman, what are you talking about?"

"For stowaways," She continued, "It's common procedure to put them off the ship."

Wade was confused, "So, you're going to drop us off at a space station or something?"

Quinn answered for the captain, "No Wade, she means she's going to throw us off the ship. Into space!"

"Here!?" Wade exclaimed, "We'll die!"

"My dear captain, explain to us," Arturo yelled, "Why must we be thrown off !?"

"Because our re-entry starts in thirty minutes. With the extra weight, the Enterprise will burn up in the atmosphere," Smith explained, ushering them to the airlock, "I'm really very sorry."

Captain Smith ushered the sliders into a small room. Through the airlock window in the outer door, Rembrandt could see stars and the Earth spinning below, unaware and uncaring of their peril.

Quinn contemplated dying in space. What would it be like? First, the side of the body acing the sun would burn and the side facing away would freeze. Would it be hypothermia? Death by burning? Or just a lack of oxygen? Quinn always hated the idea of suffocating. Maybe the captain would make their deaths more merciful by shooting them first... no, she couldn't do that. Not without risking a hull breach. She would just blow the sliders out an airlock and let them die a slow agonizing death in the cold grasp of space.

"Wait!" Quinn pleaded, "Can't you put off landing for an hour? Just one hour? That's when we slide! Without out weight, you'll be able to land without any problem!"

"Kid, I can't adjust the Enterprise computer anymore than you can glide or slide or whatever you called it," she explained, "The landing cycle is set at take-off."

"Why on Earth would you do something that stupid!?" Rembrandt demanded.

"The mission computers were installed after the Challenger disaster," Smith explained, "It takes human error out of the equation. Without them, NASA would be a disaster waiting to happen."

"You don't consider four innocent people dying in outer space a disaster," Wade screamed, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Look, I'm sorry!" Smith yelled back, "If you stay on board we all die. I have a husband and three kids on Earth, I don't want them to grow up without a mother!" She began to close the airlocks outer door.

"Wait!" Quinn pleaded, "Give us a chance!"

Smith shook her head.

"At least listen to what I have in mind," he continued.

"All right kid," Smith said, "You have ten minutes to impress me. But unless you're a genius or something, I don't see much hope."

Through all of the fear and hopelessness, Wade was forced to smile at that remark.

"Enterprise, this is Houston. Copy?"

Gibbons activated the radio, "Copy Houston, this is Enterprise."

"Heard you guys had a few stowaways."

"Yeah, captain's taking care of it now," answered Gibbons, guilt hanging on every word.

"Do you have their names for ID?"

Gibbons looked at the piece of paper Captain Smith had handing him moments ago, "Yeah, here they are..."

"Ready..."

"Mallory, Quinn... Brown, Rembrandt... Welles, Wade... Arturo, Maxi..."

The radio cracked, "Enterprise, please confirm. Did you say Rembrandt Brown?"

"Affirmative. Is there a problem?"

"No," the radio answered, "It's just the funniest damned thing. I went to Candlestick Park last week and the guy who sang the national anthem was named Rembrandt Brown."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he totally butchered the song. Sang it like a New Orleans jazz singer. he called himself..."

"The crying man?"

"Affirmative. Have I told you this story before?"

Gibbons shook his head, "No, uh... everything's nominal up here Houston. Computer's got the numbers up and running. Everything's fine."

"Uhhh... copy," the radio answered, "Is everything all right with you Henry?"

"Yeah," Gibbon's answered as he got out of his seat and floated to the ladder that lead down to the cargo area, "I just have to do something."

"Understood, atmospheric entry in thirty-five minutes"

Gibbon's didn't hear the last part of Houston's radio message. He had already left.

"Captain!" Gibbon's screamed as he flew down the corridor to the cargo bay. Enterprise was a big ship, much larger than the old Challenger-style shuttles. Getting to the cargo bay seemed to take forever. He opened the door to the cargo area just in time to see Captain Smith shut the outer airlock door. She reached for the button to open the outer door and blast the occupants into space. "No!" screamed Gibbons.

It was too late. Looking out the airlock window all he saw was the endless field of stars and the blue Earth spinning below.

"What's wrong Mr. Gibbons?" Captain Smith asked.

Gibbon's caught his breath, "There might have been some truth to their story captain," his words dripped with guilt. "Rembrandt Brown.... the crying man. He was the anthem singer at Candlestick park last week. There's no way he could have made it to the moon and then back here..." He pounded angrily on the airlock door. "Dammit, they could have been telling the truth!"

"Don't worry about it Mr. Gibbons," Captain Smith said, looking out the empty airlock, "It's been taken care of. If what they were saying is true, they should be just fine. If not, then... it's their ass."

Gibbons was speechless. When he finally managed to get a word out, it just about summoned up his feelings about the entire incident, "Huh!?"

Through the glass helmet of the emergency EVAC suit Captain Smith had given them, Rembrandt saw the space shuttle Enterprise swoop down into Earth's atmosphere. The Enterprise, with a little luck would land in Florida and Donna Smith and Henry Gibbons would once again see their native planet.

The sliders, with a little luck, would remain in orbit for another thirty minutes and slide, hopefully back to Earth, in one piece. In the meantime, Rembrandt enjoyed the view. He was flying and it wasn't out of control through a crazy tunnel for a change.

He was actually flying.

The EVAC suits were a basic last-resort commodity on a space shuttle. They were barely space suits in fact. No radios, no thrusters, no nothing. Just the capability of maintaining life in the cold vacuum of space.

Captain Smith, purely out of the kindness of her heart, had given the sliders the suits, a one-time-use thruster, and tethered them together. Then she had blown them out the airlock and left them in orbit. Professor Arturo had estimated that they would have at least an hour before the Earth's gravity pulled them into Earth's atmosphere and a fiery death. With a little luck and the one-time-use thruster, They could slide from orbit and not have to worry about that.

The minutes ticked away.

The Earth spun below.

By now, Enterprise had landed. In few hours, Captain Smith and Lt. Commander Gibbons would be reunited with their family and loved ones.

Wade was startled when she was jolted. At first, she thought that Earth's gravity was pulling her. Much to her relief, she finally saw that Quinn was pulling on the tether. Pulling her closer.

Quinn and Wade finally met. Quinn grabbed Wade's helmet and held it up against his so they could talk.

"Can you hear me?" Quinn asked. To Wade, his voice sounded hollow.

Wade nodded, "Yeah, Would t-this be a bad t-time to tell y-you that I'm terrified of heights?"

"Hang on Wade, we slide in about two minutes," Quinn said holding up the timer, "How's everybody else.

"I t-think Rembrandt's having the time of his life," she looked at Arturo, "Professor Arturo is about to suffocate because of his suit. Too bad they didn't have any in extra extra large."

Quinn smiled, "One more minute."

Wade pulled on the tether, getting the attention of Rembrandt and Arturo, letting them know the slide was near.

3...

2...

1...

Quinn activated the timer and the wormhole formed over the Earth. Quinn readied the thruster. He would have one shot at this. Miss, and they would all die. He closed his eyes, did the calculations and fired the thruster.

Instantly, the sliders drifted towards the wormhole. salvation was seconds away. Suddenly Quinn realized he had fired the thruster at the wrong angle. They were going to miss the gateway!

Without thinking, Quinn grabbed Arturo and pushed him as hard as he could towards the vortex. He saw the mixture of confusion and rage on the professor's face as he flew towards the wormhole. As Arturo entered the vortex, the tether tightened, dragging the sliders into the wormhole behind him. Rembrandt was the last to go in. Savoring his last moment in space before he hit the tunnel and began flying out of control.

The crowds applauded.

"Oh, look at that!'

"They're so lifelike!"

"Get a picture honey! Get a picture!"

The sliders picked themselves up and released the locks on their helmets. They were in Disneyland's Tomorrowland pavilion of all places.

At least they blended in.

Arturo smiled as he posed for a picture with a family, "We made it."

"How long on this world Q-Ball?" Rembrandt asked.

"Another ten seconds," Quinn answered.

Rembrandt smiled, "Ladies and gentlemen, could I have you attention. It's time for us to go now. But remember, keep your eyes to the sky and live long and prosper."

With that, Quinn activated the wormhole, and the sliders departed.

"Daddy, what did he mean, Live long and prosper?"

"Beats me son. Beats me..."

THE END