SUMMARY: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about wormholes: Avoid them.
CONTINUITY: Call this an AU for both, although it probably takes place around the time of the first Hitchhiker's book and the first season of Farscape. Ish.
DISCLAIMER: These characters belong to the late Douglas Adams, Jim Henson Company, Sci-Fi Channel, and Hallmark Entertainment. I just fantasize about them.
NOTES: Written for resmin in the Multiverse 2006 challenge. I borrowed some phrases from the Wikipedia entry on wormholes (as of July 2006).
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about wormholes:
Avoid them.
Most travellers have enough problems without being sucked into a hypothetical topological feature of spacetime, dragged off-course, and deposited on a planet full of hyper-intelligent weasels.
Sadly for Arthur Dent, the Hitchhiker's Guide has nothing to say about Leviathans or other forms of living ships. Which is unfortunate, because this particular ape-descended lifeform has found himself on a Leviathan named Moya.
Arthur rubbed his forehead and tried to remember what had happened. He was fairly certain the last thing he remembered was Zaphod drinking too many Pan-galactic Gargleblasters and changing a setting on the Heart of Gold's console. Then Marvin had--as usual--mentioned they were going to die.
There was something about Trillian, Ford, Zaphod, and Marvin being dragged in opposite directions and now he was lying on something hard.
Arthur opened his eyes, recoiling at the spotted blue face smiling down at him. In his experience, smiling aliens were usually smiling because they'd figured out a new and exciting way to kill him.
"You're all right," the face said. "No need to be frightened."
"He's awake?" another voice hollered.
Arthur screwed his eyes shut.
"D'Argo..." the first voice said.
"Zhaan, just ask the frelling Peacekeeper how he got on board!"
Arthur opened one eye at that and looked up at the blue person, Zhaan. "Peacekeeper?" That sounded...nice. "Am I a Peacekeeper?"
"D'Argo," Zhaan said, patting Arthur on the shoulder, "I have already told you that he is not a Sebacean. He appears to be Human."
"Then ask Crichton! Moya is not going to become a refugee camp for every one of his species that arrives here."
Arthur knew he would regret it, but he turned his head to look at D'Argo. He blinked a few times and did, indeed, regret looking. D'Argo was orange-brown and hairy and seemed to have tentacles coming out of his head. Or something. Arthur decided he wasn't a xenobiologist and thus, he wouldn't worry about it.
Xenobiology the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says, is the field that each species develops in order to explain why their own bodily functions are superior to and more sensibly organized than everyone else's.
The Xenobiology Department at Crittlecrat University on Agavar VII, for instance, makes every incoming student take a course on why three-headed, four-sexed slightly furry arthropods are the Chosen People of their deity and why other lifeforms should be enslaved for their own protection.
Agavarians are not known as the life of the party and rarely get invited over for drinks and cheesy puffs.
Arthur closed his eyes again and let the aliens argue it out over his head. He assumed they'd let him know when they'd decided how they were going to kill him, so there was no point in worrying about it until then.
"Whoa!" a new, slightly out of breath, voice chimed in. "Pilot said that wormhole spit out a human?"
Arthur frowned. The new voice sounded like an American, while the others...he opened his eyes and lifted his head. Standing in the doorway was a perfectly normal-looking human, although the guns strapped to his thighs weren't exactly encouraging, as survival went. Arthur sighed as the human chivvied the two aliens out of the room.
"Hey there," the human said cheerfully, holding out a hand, "I'm John Crichton of Earth."
Arthur blinked at him and took his hand. "Um...hello. I'm Arthur Dent. Formerly of Earth."
"Sorry," Crichton said, helping him sit up. "I've gotten into the habit of saying that, since I'm the only one from Earth. Or I was. So, what can you tell me about the wormhole?"
"Wormhole?"
Crichton's mouth twitched once in what could have been amusement or annoyance. "The wormhole you came through that Pilot tells me dumped you in the middle of space with no ship?"
Groaning, Arthur rubbed his forehead. "Again? Does this ship have an Infinite Improbability Drive as well?"
"A what?" Crichton stopped and thought about it. "That's not a bad description, now that I think about it."
"Well, I'm told the odds of being picked up from deep space by a random ship passing by are--"
"Pretty damn small, yeah." Crichton shrugged. "This here's Moya. She's a Leviathan, a living ship, and if she's not infinitely improbable, she's certainly pretty damn unlikely."
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has a short section on alternate universes.
Alternate universes come in several varieties:
1) Everyone you know is evil.
2) Everything is almost exactly the same except Eccentrica Gallumbits,
the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon 6, is President of the Galaxy.
3) Things are very very different.
Your first goal when thrown into an alternate universe is to determine which variety you are in. Then act accordingly.
"So," Arthur said a few hours later, as they walked down a curving hallway (he didn't want to think about what it was made out of), "you're fugitives from nearly every military force in the area."
Crichton looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Well, yes. You don't sound very worried about that."
Arthur shrugged. "It's the status quo for my life ever since Ford rescued me from Earth just before it was destroyed. At least your crew seems rather more competent and sane than the last ship I was on."
Crichton stopped and stared at him. "You're gonna have to tell me about that at some point." He shook his head sharply. "But meanwhile, I've got to investigate the wormhole that brought you here. Let me find you a room and we can talk later."
"I do have one question," Arthur said hesitantly.
"Fire away."
"Why..." he looked around to make sure nobody was nearby, "why do all the aliens have Australian accents?"
Crichton grinned. "That, buddy, is one of the imponderables of the universe. I guess everybody thinks Australians are strange."
--end--
Final author's note: Ummm...no offense to Australians. I love Australians! Some of my best friends are Australian. Honestly, I just couldn't resist :)