Author's Note to My Loyal Readers: Chapter 8 is about to begin, wherein I introduce a slight "detour" into the journey home. All the feedback has been very positive so far, and I greatly appreciate your kind words! Thank you so much…let's press on!
Lost in Space, The Return, Chap 8. The Alien
While there was no "day/night" in space, the family continued their custom of honoring daytime and nighttime hours, as indicated on the ship's clocks. It was now the "morning" of the next day following their escape from the planet. There was no sense of speed, but the Robot, as well as the other navigational instruments on the ship, showed that they were traveling nearly three-quarters of the speed of light, on a course for Earth. The Robot confirmed the lock on the Sun, and all other indications appeared to corroborate Will's earlier calculations.
Major West's space-walk around the Jupiter the day before had revealed no damage to the hull, other than a discolored gash on the side where the boulder thrown by the cyclops had struck, but fortunately, not penetrated. Professor Robinson had insisted that everyone get a good night's sleep prior to entering the freeze tubes, to which the children had naturally protested, since they pointed out that they would be sleeping for eight months. Of course, predictably, their protests were for naught, and they were hustled off to their cabins forthwith.
Breakfast that morning was a boisterous affair, affected by the high spirits of everyone on board. Will and Penny were arguing over what they were going to do once they arrived on Earth, and which of their many friends they were going to contact first. West and Judy were talking quietly to each other on matters that were extremely private, but clearly important, as evidenced by the way their heads were close as they spoke earnestly to one another. John was sitting at the table, scribbling on a clipboard with one hand while holding a cup of steaming coffee in the other. He occasionally threw a random question at Don with regards to various ship systems, maintenance, and other arcane subjects dealing with the management of the ship over the next eight months. These questions the Major answered curtly, then quickly dove back into his intense discourse with Judy. Dr. Smith merely continued to shovel food rapidly into his mouth, sporadically complaining about the quality of the scrambled eggs or pancakes and loudly extolling the virtues of a favorite breakfast hangout of his back on Earth. Maureen was busy at the galley stove, maintaining a brisk pace of pancake turning and artificial egg cooking. Everyone, with the exception of John and Maureen, had already donned their silver space suits for wear during their eight-month hibernation.
"I'm going upstairs," Will finally announced, breaking away from his conversation with Penny and dropping his fork and knife with a clatter that earned a disapproving scowl from his mother. "Dad, can I go upstairs and open the viewport shield doors?"
Professor Robinson had started a safety precaution, while in space, to close the titanium shield doors that covered the main viewport every night. He felt a little preventive caution was advisable while the family slept.
"I want to go, too!" Penny blurted, jumping to her feet. "I want to see space again before we go into the freeze tubes!"
John, looking vaguely startled from his musings over the clipboard, lowered his coffee cup and glanced vacantly at Will. "All right…"
Will leapt up, but Maureen restrained him with a word, waving a spoon at the two kids. "Will! Penny! Both of you can first clear the plates from the table, then you can go upstairs."
"Okay, Mom," they said in stereo, giggling to each other and gathering up their plates.
After both of them had removed most of the breakfast dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, they bolted for the ladder and vanished to the upper deck.
"Well, they're pretty excited today," Maureen commented, sitting down next to John with her morning cup of tea.
"They have every right to be!" Judy exclaimed, nestling into the crook of Don's shoulder. Their quiet talk appeared to be over. "This is a big day for them. When they awake from suspended hibernation, we'll be on Earth! Oh," she straightened her arms irritably, scanning the lines of her space suit. "I think these suits have gotten a little brittle in storage."
West stretched his arms over his head. "I think you're right. Mine feels like wrinkled aluminum foil against my skin. And, Doctor," he grinned at Smith, who froze in the act of stuffing some more pancake into his mouth, "I do believe that you have put on some pounds despite the so-called austerity of our diet!"
"Austerity?" Smith goggled at him in gargantuan amazement. "That, Major, is an exceptionally large word for a military man such as yourself. As hard as it is to account, I do believe your vocabulary may actually be improving. In any case, with regards to my figure," he waved his fork vaguely about his chest, "what you see here is a finely honed physique, made even more defined and vigorous by our long deprivations. It is simply a matter of good genes. As for this ridiculously tailored silver suit," he crooked a finger in the neck of his suit and pulled on it with a look of disgust, "it hardly provides a proper and dignified fit."
Don opened his mouth make a sarcastic rejoinder when the speaker over the table crackled alive.
"Dad! Mom!" Will's voice came over the intercom. "You guys need to come up here and look at this! Quick!"
"That sounds like trouble," John noted, pushing his chair back and dropping the clipboard on the table, taking one more deep gulp of his coffee before slamming the mug down.
Everyone rose and headed for the lift except Dr. Smith, who watched the retreating backs of his companions in some bewilderment, his fork and knife poised over his diminishing helping of pancakes. "Where is everyone going?" he called after them. "The child has probably just spotted an oddly blinking star. Your food will get cold!" Shrugging when he received no response from anyone, he dove back into his breakfast.
Shortly, the family was gathered around the main viewport, their faces bathed in an eerie glow.
"That's what we saw when I opened the viewport!" Will proclaimed.
"What is it?" Judy whispered. "It's beautiful!"
Ahead, and spreading as far as their limited field of vision would allow, was a pulsing, multi-colored field of light, like a glowing cloud. Some stars could be seen, faintly, sparkling through the luminescence, but portions of the "cloud" were quite opaque. Tendrils of color streamed through the area like strokes from a paintbrush, and occasional faint flashes, like that resulting from embedded, but unseen, lightning, lit up the masses, casting contrasting shadows among the convoluted layers. Tall, stupendously immense pillars of gaseous material thrust up through the main body, and their tops were wreathed in domes of glowing matter. Size was difficult to judge by eye only, but what few clues there were indicated they were looking at an object that was light years in size. And, whatever it was, they were heading right into it.
"Robot!" John said, reaching for the control panel and flipping some switches. "Analysis! Scan that area ahead of us. What is it? A nebula?"
West dropped into the pilot's seat, while the rest of the family watched from behind the two men.
The Robot, who was still attached to the navigation console, swiveled slightly, rattling the cables that connected him to the console. "That is correct. It is a nebula, an interstellar cloud of charged particles, hydrogen gas, plasma, and dust. It is a breeding ground for stars, supplying much of the raw material for stellar formation. This one resembles a nebula as seen from Earth and known as 'The Pillars of Creation.'"
"Is there a danger to the ship?"
"Avoidance is recommended, but cosmic radiation levels are within the design limits of spaceship shielding."
"Well then, should we go around it?" Don asked, adjusting some thrust controls.
"Negative. I have tapped into the ship's sensor array and cannot detect the periphery of the nebula. I have extrapolated the data and I calculate the width of the nebula across our path is at least twenty light years. Height is indeterminate, but likely the same."
John stared into the depths of the nebula, the flickering light reflecting in his eyes. "Obviously, we don't have the fuel for that kind of detour."
"You know, if that nebula is the Pillars of Creation, then that would place us more than 6,500 light years from Earth," Don observed.
"That can't be right," Will said, frowning. "We couldn't be that far from Earth. Could we?"
"No. I don't think it's the same," John waved towards it, then folded his arms thoughtfully. "But, then again, if it's another nebula that's closer to Earth, why can't we recognize it? It's got some pretty distinguishing characteristics. Something this prominent should be readily recognizable."
"Well," Don said, pointing at the fuel gages. "Here's the bottom line. We only have enough gas to go straight from point A--where we are right now--to point B--which is Earth. We don't have enough for a 20-light-year detour." He looked over at Professor Robinson. "We have to go straight through, unless you think safety is the overriding factor."
"Robot, how long do you estimate it will take us to go straight through?" John asked.
"The ship's limited sensors do not have the range to penetrate to the other side," the Robot said. "I cannot compute transit time. However, the extended exposure to expected interstellar radiation is not predicted to exceed safety parameters."
"I think he said it's safe," Don commented helpfully.
"All right, then," John said, straightening, spreading his hands resignedly. "We go through. Maintain course and speed."
"Steady as she goes, Captain," West boomed cheerily. "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"
"And," Professor Robinson said slowly, "I think we should wait a bit before sending everyone into cryo-sleep. We need to evaluate this some more."
"A few days?" Maureen asked.
Robinson nodded. "At least. That will give us some time to perform some observations and experiments to find out what this is." He brightened. "This is a great opportunity to learn a little more about our universe and take our data back with us to Earth." He glanced over at his son, who was practically salivating with excitement. "Wouldn't you agree, Will?"
Will's eyes lit up like he had just opened up an especially desirable birthday present. "Yeah! I'll need my telescope, my radio receiver, my spectro-analyzer. I'm going to get some of my astronomy books to figure out what to do. This will be great!" He turned and ran for the ladder, quickly disappearing down into the bowels of the ship.
"That boy needs to get out more," Don commented with a chuckle.
* * * *
The days had turned into a week as the Jupiter probed deeper into the strangely churning nebula. Only the brightest stars could be seen occasionally through rifts in the gaseous cloud, and the ship seemed to be floating in a sea of luminescence that stretched into infinity. Will and Professor Robinson worked long hours together, compiling data on the nebula and feeding it into the Jupiter's library and data storage system. At their urging, West adjusted the ship's course by small degrees to take it closer to more interesting sections of the nebula while keeping a careful eye on their fuel consumption. Even the Robot got involved, coordinating sensor readings while monitoring the navigation and progress of the ship.
There was no mention from anyone about entering hibernation. The general acceptance was that it was put off indefinitely until they could learn more about the strange phenomenon they were traversing. No one seemed to mind, since the nebula offered a constantly changing panorama of light and darkness that was as beautiful to the artistically-minded in the family as it was intriguing to the scientifically-bent. The Robinsons spent many quiet hours in front of the main viewport, simply watching as the nebula unfolded an otherworldly spectacle of radiance and color before their wondering eyes.
Such was the case this night, one week after they had entered the nebula. It was late, and most everyone had gone to bed, except Don and Judy. The Jupiter was quiet and seemed to be ghosting silently through the glowing sea of radiance. The deck was awash in the ethereal illumination coming through the viewport; the normal deck lights had been dimmed for the night. The incandescence cast a surreal brilliance through the window that was reflected off the faces of Don and Judy, who were sitting side by side at the pilot control station, holding hands and simply looking outside. The Robot stood silently at the navigation console, seemingly absorbed in his own activities. However, the sensor paddles just below his bubble top occasionally turned discretely towards the two humans, as if he were drawn in spite of himself to see what they were about and understand the underlying currents flowing between them.
Judy sighed. "It's so beautiful. I feel like we're hovering in space, floating in a cloud of light."
"It is beautiful," Don agreed softly, giving Judy's hand a squeeze.
Another period of silence ensued. The Robot turned slightly towards the seated pair as if he was intending to speak, regarded them for a moment, then turned back and resumed his silent vigil of the Jupiter's systems. Suddenly, he spun back towards them with a rattling of cables, his arms snaking out of his torso and waving violently.
"Alert!" the Robot warbled. "Alert!"
Startled, Don and Judy sat up. "What! What is it?" Don asked, his eyes scanning the consoles for indications of problems.
"I have a sensor alert on a metallic object passing the port side of the ship at approximately two kilometers," the Robot said, retracting his arms with a clank.
"Object?" West asked. "What kind of object? How big is it? Where…?"
"The object is dead in space," the Robot added. "We are passing it. It is metallic and approximately 40 meters in length. Without further data, I cannot say exactly what it is, but it has the dimensions of a possible space vehicle."
Don was reaching for the controls for the ship's maneuvering controls. "To the left, you say?"
"Affirmative."
Sitting straighter in the seat, Major West fired small bursts from the ship's maneuvering thrusters, causing the saucer-shaped vessel to pivot slowly about its center without changing its course through space. A slight vibration could be felt through the structure of the ship as the thrusters fired.
Judy had stood up and was leaning over the forward consoles to get a better view. She suddenly pointed. "There! Something is there, silhouetted against the nebula. Do you see it?"
"I see something," Don agreed, squinting into the luminescence of the nebula. "Just looks like a dot at this distance. Will's telescope is over there near the Robot. See if you can see anything through it."
Judy turned and walked quickly to the side bulkhead, grabbing a medium-sized refracting telescope that stood there, its legs folded and the entire unit leaning against the wall. She brought it over to the helm, unfolded the tripod legs, and set it on the floor next to Don. She moved behind telescope, aimed the telescope by sighting through the finder on the top of the main tube, and then brought her eye into contact with the eyepiece of the telescope. She moved the main body of the telescope until a fuzzy object flashed into view and was gone.
"It's hard to get it," she grumbled, moving the telescope about and trying to capture the elusive object. "Darn it…almost had it…"
Don impatiently got to his feet. "Here, let me try…"
"No, wait, I think I've got it," Judy said, concentrating and waving him off. "Just a second…"
She slowly moved the telescope back until the object returned into the field of view, and she locked the mount. She adjusted the focusing wheel and the object resolved itself. "Wow!"
West was near to bursting with eagerness to snatch the telescope and see for himself. "Well?" he asked heatedly. "What do you see? What is it? Judy…?"
She pulled away abruptly from the lens and looked at Don. "The Robot is right! It's a spaceship!"
* * * *
The alien vessel was floating dead in space against the backdrop of the pulsing nebula. Triangular in shape, it had a rather conventional airplane design with stubby wings on either side and a tall fin at the back. There was a clear, smoothly faired dome on top near the front that would typically be the cockpit on a terrestrial airplane, and a cylindrical pod underneath the fuselage, connected to the ship by a thick pylon. There were curiously shaped nozzles at the back of the ship, clearly some sort of propulsion system, presently cold and dark. There were no markings or other identification on the gray surfaces that sullenly reflected the light from the nebula. The ship very slowly turned in space, presenting its top, bottom, sides, front, and back randomly. In all appearance, it was a powerless derelict.
"It can only mean us harm!" Dr. Smith warned querulously, his night cap bobbing ludicrously on his head, a blanket clutched protectively in front of him. He was wearing his customary white striped nightshirt that fell to just below his knees, and fur-lined leather slippers encased his feet. "We should put as much distance between us as possible! We have no business here! We must leave it be!"
Earlier, and after staring at the vessel through Will's telescope, Don had opened the intercom channel to John's cabin to summon the Professor to the flight deck. In the small ship, everyone was attuned to even the smallest commotion, and so Professor Robinson soon found he was leading Will, Penny, Maureen, and Dr. Smith up the ladder after they had all emerged from their cabins to see what the ruckus was all about. They were now clustered around the main viewport, staring at the ghostly, slowly revolving vessel.
After conferring with Professor Robinson and getting his approval, West had cautiously closed the distance between the two ships to within a few hundred yards, so the family had a clear view of the alien vehicle. The Professor was leaning over the control consoles, his face nearly pressed against the hardened glass of the viewport, his curiosity fully aroused.
"Whatever it is, it looks like a wreck," he commented, waving his hand in the direction of the ship and ignoring Smith's outburst. "Look at those black gashes on the sides and tail. Like it was burned or scorched with something."
"Or, like it was in a battle," Don added with professional interest. "That cylinder underneath might be a weapon of some sort. Looks almost like an old F-106 Delta Dart fighter."
"Is there someone inside?" Penny exclaimed abruptly, pointing. "Look in that canopy at the front! Someone's in there!"
The entire group leaned forward nearly as one. The ship was momentarily oriented in profile view as it rotated. The dome at the front of the ship was slightly transparent, and nebula light shone through it, highlighting a dark figure inside.
"By God, I think Penny's right!" Don agreed. He pointed at the ship. "Kind of looks like someone slumped over in that cockpit! What do you think, John?"
"Sensors are indicating weak life form readings," the Robot announced.
"Are the readings human?" John asked without taking his eyes off the slowly revolving ship.
"Indeterminate. Alien alloys in ship's hull prevent accurate assessment. But there is life in the vessel, very faint."
"Well of course it's an alien!" Smith exclaimed. "And, that's no Earth ship, so it can't be human! We have to…"
Professor Robinson straightened abruptly, interrupting him. "Don, suit up! We might have a rescue mission on our hands. You and I are going over there to check it out."
"Right," West agreed happily, surging out of the pilot's seat, brusquely pushing past Dr. Smith and heading for the equipment closet near the main airlock.
Aghast, Dr. Smith straightened, tossing his head. "What?! You're going to do what? This is absurd! We must resume our course for Earth at once! This is none of our business!"
"Dr. Smith, someone may be in dire need of our help!" Maureen chided him, putting a hand on his shoulder as John strode off in West's wake towards the locker. "We can't just leave him floating helplessly out here. What if he's from Earth, on a search mission looking for us?"
"That is an alien spaceship, and therefore that must be an alien monster inside!" Smith asserted without hesitation. "It will come alive and destroy us all!"
"Maureen, give us a hand here," Professor Robinson called as he and Don began hauling spacesuit components from the closet and piling equipment on the floor.
"I must categorically protest!" Smith said, trailing Maureen to the locker, the tails of his nightshirt flapping ludicrously about his bare legs. "You should not go out there! If both of you are killed, there is no one else to pilot us to Earth!"
Maureen was helping John into his spacesuit. "You know, John, Dr. Smith may have a point."
Taken aback at suddenly finding an ally, Dr. Smith nonetheless looked hopefully at Professor Robinson. "See? Even your wife agrees!"
"We are going," John stated forcefully, clearly allowing no room for further discussion. However, he then seemed to take a mental step backwards and smiled down at his wife. "Don't worry, darling. We'll take the lasers, and if there's any sign of trouble, we'll high-tail it back here and blast off back on course for Earth. But, whoever that is, we just can't leave him out there, helpless, if he's still alive."
Maureen smiled back. "I certainly agree we can't just bypass someone who might need our help. I just wish you both didn't have to go."
"We're the most qualified," John added simply, shrugging into his suit and lifting the space helmet. "And I don't feel comfortable sending someone alone, whether it's me or Don. We just don't know what to expect out there, and having a backup seems prudent."
"But…" Smith started to argue.
"That's enough, Doctor," John said. "The decision is made. This is a potential rescue mission now."
Dr. Smith made an indignant harrumph, then turned and stomped off, heading for the lift to retreat into his cabin. "This will be the end of us, you'll see!" he mumbled to himself as the lift descended to the lower deck.
In quick time, both Professor Robinson and Major West were suited, sealed, and ready to go. Radio communications and oxygen checks were accomplished, lasers were strapped on their waists, and several coils of rope looped over their shoulders. They moved into the airlock, John gave Maureen the "thumb's up" signal, and she secured the inner door and began venting atmosphere into space. Once vacuum was established in the airlock, West touched a button to open the outer door. Reaching around outside the door, each spacewalker snapped his safety line to a hook set in the hull for that purpose, then stepped out of the airlock into the void of space.
It was always a severely disorienting sensation departing the artificial gravity field of the Jupiter for the immediate weightlessness of space. It was as if one stepped off a cliff and the inner ear registered a rapid fall, but the eyes actually sensed no movement. This sensory conflict induced a dizzying spatial disorientation and nausea that even veteran spacewalkers had to overcome. John and Don paused, floating just outside the airlock, their eyes fastened on the solidity of the Jupiter's hull as the complex sensations within their bodies settled out.
"You okay?" Don's voice crackled over the open suit-to-suit frequency, turning to face the Professor.
"Give me a second," John gasped. "Guess I've lost my space legs…"
"Just look at the ship until the vertigo goes away," Don said, holding John's arms to help stabilize him. "Take your time."
"I'm okay," John said, forcing his breathing to stabilize and waving off Don's help. "And we don't have a lot of time. Let's get on with it!"
Together, both men swiveled towards the derelict, and then ignited a controlled burst on their back-mounted maneuvering packs. There was a momentary flash of bright plasma from their rockets, and they started moving slowly towards the crippled vessel. They paid out their safety line behind them as they went, adjusting their trajectory with an arm mounted control pad.
Both men focused their efforts on controlling their path towards the derelict, but they both could not help looking about and marveling at the incredible beauty of the backdrop formed by the nebula. Silent flashes of unseen plasma occasionally lit up portions of the swirling mass in bizarre colors and stroboscopic irradiance. The drifting men even imagined they could hear thunder muttering through his headsets, in time with the flashing pulses lost somewhere deep in the nebula. Phosphorescent trails lanced occasionally through the shimmering clouds, as if created by unseen, speeding meteors. In spite of the knowledge that it was impossible, John nevertheless reached out a hand, to see if he could pass it through the star stuff and make a light trail of his own.
"Everything okay out there?" Maureen's voice came suddenly over the radio frequency into their headsets, breaking into their ruminations.
"No problem so far," Don transmitted. "Almost there." He swiveled around to look back at John, who was following closely. "Still all right back there?"
John raised a thumb's up signal while keeping his eyes on the approaching spacecraft. "Yes. Just fine."
Don looked over John's shoulder and smiled. Beyond the Professor, West could see the Jupiter 2, hovering silently in space with the background of the nebula behind it. The ship was perhaps fifty yards away, but he could still discern the individual faces of the people at the brightly illuminated viewport, all standing in tense, watchful attitudes. The knife-like edges of the saucer-shaped vessel reflected sharp points of light from the nebula, while the silver hull itself seemed to be ablaze with an internal light as the nebula lit it from all directions. The rotating pod light array underneath spun and flashed in sequence with the dome on top, all providing a comforting sense of stability and home in the swirling otherworldly mists of the surrounding nebula. The ship was an extraordinarily clean design, and it looked every inch like it was at home in its alien surroundings. The sight never failed to take West's breath away, and he allowed himself a few moments to dwell on the engrossing view. One of the figures in the viewport lifted an arm and waved: it was Penny. Don waved jauntily back.
"Hey!" John called peevishly, pointing ahead. "Watch where you're going!"
Don grinned even more broadly, but rotated about to face the direction of travel.
"What do you see?" Maureen's transmission came over the radio.
The ship had rolled so its belly was towards them. "Now that we're closer, I can make out symbols or insignia on the bottom of the ship," John called, looking past West. "Can't see into the canopy yet…the ship has rolled away from us. Looks like lots of damage underneath. I see scorings, torn metal, and gashes. Can't tell if that means the hull is breached, but this doesn't look good."
"Well, be careful!"
John grinned wryly to himself. "Yes."
Using their braking rockets, the two men slowed their approach until they were hanging in space a few feet from the slowly rolling vessel.
"Where do we hook on?" Don asked, eyeing the heavily damaged ship.
"Let's see if we can make a grab for one of the wings as it comes towards us."
"Sounds good," Don said, "but how about if I do it alone, while you wait and keep an eye on me from here? Let me check it over, then give you the all clear to come in."
"That would be a wise approach, let's do it that way. Watch out for those jagged pieces of metal…they'll tear into your spacesuit to ribbons if you're not careful."
"Right. Here goes."
Timing the next burst from his maneuvering pack, Don started moving forward again, carefully watching the approaching left-side wing that was descending towards him. He reached it just as it was eye-level to him, and he grabbed on with an ungainly spin as the inertia of the alien craft transferred to him and twisted him around. He brought one booted foot down into a gouge in the leading edge of the wing to absorb his energy, grunting with the effort it cost. He ended up crouched in an awkward crab-like attitude, holding on with both hands and one foot.
"You all right?" John called, watching Don's acrobatics with some concern.
"All right? Yeah," Don said with a chuckle. "But I wouldn't win any contests as a circus performer." He looked up. Now that he was attached to the alien ship, it seemed like the entire universe was slowly spinning about him, while he and the ship were stationary. "I've got her now. I'm going to start working my way up to the top of the ship and see what I can see."
"Can you tell what's it made of?"
Don began moving slowly hand over hand down the leading edge of the wing towards the fuselage. "Not really. Feels like metal as near as I can tell through the space suit. Looks like it, too."
He arrived at where the wing joined the fuselage and then began working his way along the fuselage, carefully avoiding the ripped and gouged portions. It was slow going, and he tested each handhold and foot placement before moving on for fear he might nudge against some of the razor-sharp metal shards.
"This thing looks like it went through a meat grinder!" he grumbled over the radio. "If someone's still alive in here, he's one lucky son of a bitch…"
After a few minutes of wary progress, he finally arrived at the bulge atop the fuselage where the canopy was located. It was mostly transparent, but dark like it was tinted. Nevertheless, Don could see into the cockpit. Peering closely, he observed many instruments, levers, and handles, all set in unfamiliar patterns. None of the instruments showed any indications of life, and the interior was completely dark and lifeless. However, it was the singular figure sitting in the middle of the cockpit that attracted Don's immediate attention.
It was humanoid in form, with a head, torso, arms, and legs clearly apparent in the glow from the nebula. At first glance, Don thought the similarity to humans ended there, because the alien was rounded and thickly built, with a uniform, whitish skin that covered its entire form in segmented bands. In fact, it seemed the creature was either a shapeless, faceless, mound of flesh, or what Don was looking at was an outer cocoon or spacesuit, hiding the actual occupant within, which seemed more likely. Or, it could even be a robot or some other type of machine, there was just no way to tell through observation. The alien, if it was alive, was motionless and made no reaction to Don's presence. It simply sat there, its bulbous head slumped slightly forward.
"Well?" his radio came to life abruptly, startling him out of his concentration. "What the hell is going on over there? I can't see you anymore!"
West looked up and realized the rotation of the ship had taken him out of John's view. Neither the Professor nor the Jupiter was currently in sight. "I'm okay! There is a pilot in here. He looks like a cross between the Michelin man and a squashed marshmallow. There's no movement from him, or any indication he is aware of me. Whoa!"
In leaning closer to the canopy, Don had placed his hands on the transparent, curved surface, and the entire structure moved nearly two inches.
"What? What is it?" came John's voice.
"The canopy is unlocked!" Don called back, recoiling in surprise. "It's open to space!"
"I'm coming over," John said, already firing his maneuvering jets. "Stay there. Don't do anything else until I come around…"
"Okay, but watch yourself…there's sharp metal everywhere…"
"Yes, yes! Stay put."
After a few minutes of careful space jockeying, John joined Don at the canopy. Both men hovered over it, staring inside at the occupant. "What do we do now?" Don asked uncertainly.
"If that's a space suit," John mused, waving a hand in the direction of the creature, "then the alien might be protected from vacuum, if it's even still alive." He paused, inspecting the gap showing between the fuselage and the bottom of the canopy. "I don't see any attachment points. What say we try to lift this thing?"
"It moved pretty easily when I accidently bumped it before," Don answered. "I'll give it a go. Can you brace me?"
While the Professor gripped a protuberance on the vessel and held onto Don's shoulder, West reached down, curled his fingers under the canopy and lifted cautiously, expecting some resistance. Instead, the canopy came completely free and floated away, tumbling off into space.
"Well, that was easy," Don observed dryly, watching it go. "It was like it wasn't even attached. Maybe the pilot tried to get out and something malfunctioned." He turned back to John. "What are you doing?"
John had leaned down into the cockpit, bringing his own faceplate close to the "face" of the alien. Staring intently at it, he reached towards the face and ran a gloved finger over it. Fine white crystals, disturbed by his hand, drifted away in a small cloud. Underneath, there was a clear surface, much like glass. Reaching for his belt, John unhooked a flashlight, turned it on, and shined the beam into the clear surface.
He found he was staring into a face. The eyes were closed, and he could clearly discern a nose and mouth. The features, while exotic in an unexplainable way, had enough similarities that John would have classified the creature as mostly human.
"I can see him," John reported. "There's a person inside; this white cocoon must be a space suit. He looks human, but I can't tell if he's…"
The eyes opened.
Pulling back in shock, John cried, "It's alive!"
Reeling backwards, he bumped into Major West, who had been looking over his shoulder, and sent the pilot tumbling head over heels. Grabbing hastily for his maneuvering controls on his arm, West hit his auto-stabilization switch, let the rockets fire automatically until his gyrations subsided, then jetted back to Professor Robinson's side.
"Sorry," John said, releasing a deep breath that rattled his helmet-mounted microphone. "Just a bit of a shock. Look!"
The alien had languidly raised an arm and gestured feebly, whether in greeting or acknowledgement of their presence, they could not tell. The arm fell back to where it was, and the creature made no further movement.
"I heard everything!" Maureen's voice came over the radio circuit. "If he's hurt, we need to help him! We can see you now!"
John looked past the alien vessel. He realized he could now see the reassuringly familiar saucer of the Jupiter rising majestically beyond the fuselage of the alien ship as the rotation brought it around. Because of the irregularity of the rotation, the Jupiter now appeared to be standing on its side like a dinner plate balancing on one end.
"We can't help him here," Don said, "but I don't know how safe it is to bring him into our spaceship, for him or us."
"I can hear you."
"I know you can hear me," Don said in some puzzlement, looking at John. "Why? Are you having radio problems?"
"I didn't say anything," John declared. "I thought that was you."
"Well, it wasn't me!"
John and Don stared at each other.
"What's wrong?" Maureen's voice broke in over the radio. "Are you having communication problems?"
John glanced upwards towards the ship. "No, ah…"
"I can hear you," the voice came again, a distinctly male voice with an unidentifiable accent.
"Who is this?" John called uncertainly, but he turned to face the cocooned form in the ship. He shined his flashlight into the creature's face; the eyes glittered back at him from underneath the clear covering.
It raised a hand weakly, as if waving off the light. "Too bright…" it said, and John lowered the flashlight beam. "I am hurt," the voice continued. "I have been adrift for a long time. Life is spent. Battle is ended."
"How is he on our frequency…?" Don began, but John waved him off.
"How can we help you?" John asked the alien.
"Air is nearly depleted," came the sluggish response. "Not long now."
"Do you need air?" John said. "I have a ship nearby. We can take you there."
A response came over the radio, but it was unintelligible.
Don broke in. "Ask him what kind of air he needs."
Robinson moved closer. "Friend! We can get you to a place with an atmosphere. What do you need? Our air is composed of 21 percent oxygen, 78 percent nitrogen, and a little carbon dioxide, argon, neon, and water vapor. Are these poisonous to you? Do you recognize these gases? Can you hear me?"
There was no answer.
Robinson moved closer, trying to see through the creature's faceplate. "Can you hear me?" He could barely make out the face, but the eyes were closed again.
He watched the creature's lips move slightly. "Air, oxygen, nitrogen…"
"He's fading," Don noted quietly. "If we're going to do something, we need to do it pretty quick."
John leaned up, looking towards the Jupiter, where it hovered above them now as the slow rotation of the alien vessel continued, bringing them around.
"Maureen, we're going to try a rescue," John transmitted.
"No, you fools!" Back on the Jupiter, Dr. Smith had not progressed far to his cabin before his curiosity compelled him to rejoin the family at the viewport. He pushed around Judy for a better look. "What are they doing out there? Let the alien die!"
Maureen turned away from the viewport and regarded him. "That creature needs our help! He's intelligent! We can't just leave him to die!"
"Yes, we most certainly can!" Dr. Smith asserted vehemently. "Survival of the fittest. We have no idea what that thing is! If we bring him aboard, he will destroy us all! Why, what if he harbors disease? We could all die from some alien virus!"
"Mom," Penny said fearfully as everyone paused thoughtfully. "Could Dr. Smith be right? Could we die from some disease if we bring him on board?"
"Nothing has happened when we met other aliens before this," Will reflected out loud. "I think we should help him!"
Maureen looked uncertainly back at the derelict. "There's always some danger," she said, as if to herself. "It comes with the territory."
"Now, Mrs. Robinson," Smith continued, taking on an appeasing tone. "We would be endangering ourselves needlessly. Think of your children! Anything else would be folly on a monumental scale, a travesty of the survivor's instincts! This entire harebrained scheme to bring it on board should be put to a vote, and I vote NO! As you all should. And you, you unspeakable insult to machines everywhere!" He hammered on the Robot's side. "Say something! Tell them about the danger!"
The Robot swiveled. "I have no data on any current danger from the life form."
Smith's eyes went wide in astounded exasperation. "Why you tin-plated traitor! You're always wailing about danger this, warning that. Well, this danger is clear enough, and you prattle on about insufficient data! I'll pull your transistors out by the roots!"
Maureen, tuning out Dr. Smith's tirade, glanced back out the viewport to see John and Don already at work extricating the alien. She raised the microphone as if to say something, paused, then lowered it again.
"Madam!" Smith cried in dismay, watching the gesture. "I must insist you advise them to stop!"
Maureen set her jaw and said nothing.
Meanwhile, at the alien vessel, Don was feeling around the seated alien. "There's no restraining belt I can find. What's holding him in?"
The alien pilot moved a hand weakly towards a lever and brushed ineffectively at it. West watched the movement intently.
"Go ahead," John encouraged.
Don reached around and pulled on the lever. When nothing happened, he pushed it forward. It slid smoothly to a stop. The alien then raised his arms in a curiously child-like gesture as if he wanted to be lifted.
"I'll bet he's free now," John said. "Grab one arm and I'll take the other."
Carefully, they pulled the alien from the cockpit, watching out for sharp edges and projections.
"He's clear," Don called. "Let's turn him towards the Jupiter and get going."
After checking that their safety lines had not fouled on the derelict, the two men flanked the alien and maneuvered away. They used their jets to stop the relative motion that had been imparted on them by the rotating derelict so they could directly approach the stationary Jupiter. Once clear of the ship, they began reeling in their lines, adjusting the rate to provide a controlled, slow closure with the hovering Earth vessel.
"Are you all right?" John asked. There was no transmission from the inert alien. Due to their line abreast formation, he was unable to turn sufficiently to see into the alien's faceplate. "What is your name?" Still no answer. He could sense no responsive movement from the creature. "Don, we'd better hurry."
"I know."
After several minutes, they reached the side of the Jupiter. The round window adjacent to the airlock door was filled with the faces of Will, Penny, and Judy, who keenly watched the approach of the threesome. As soon as they arrived, Robinson actuated the outer airlock door, which slid noiselessly aside, providing them access to the brightly lit airlock. They wrestled the ungainly form of the alien inside, unfastened their safety lines, and then squeezed inside as well.
"We're all inside, barely. Tight fit in here," John reported. "Closing outer door. Door shows secure, beginning pressurization cycle. How's it looking in there?"
"Everything's in the green," Maureen verified, watching the airlock status readouts at the side of the inner door. "Good seals, no leaks, good gravity. You'll be normal atmosphere in twenty seconds."
"Is Smith there?" John inquired tensely while they waited. "We may need his skills."
Maureen watched through the port on the inner lock door. "He's here," she answered, glancing uncertainly at Dr. Smith, who hovered, fuming uncertainly, nearby.
"Cycle complete," Maureen called out after a few more seconds. "Normal atmosphere and gravity confirmed. I'm opening the inner lock door…get ready, guys."
She punched a button and the inner airlock door slid open with a hiss. Don lurched out first, dragging the limp form of the alien, while John pushed from the other side. They laid the alien on the floor, then straightened as Maureen began helping John out of his helmet, and Judy attended to Don.
Seals hissed as Maureen undid the clasps of the helmet, and, as soon as she lifted it off, John was speaking. "We've got to get that space suit off him."
The entire family had gathered around the mysterious, distended form on the deck of the ship. Arms, legs, and head were identifiable, but they were completely encased in what appeared to be a segmented white balloon. Only the faceplate, below which showed a vague face lost in shadow, broke the uniformity of the surface.
"How?" Will asked, bending over the alien. "I don't see any latches or zippers."
"How do you think he got into it?" Penny asked, giving the fabric of the alien's cocoon a tentative pinch.
"Don't touch that," Maureen warned protectively, pulling both children away.
Don, pulling off his gloves and tossing them away, knelt down beside the alien. "There's gotta be some way to get it off." He brushed more of what appeared to be fine ice crystals away from the faceplate. "Looks like he's unconscious. Or dead…"
Judy laid Don's helmet on the floor. "Maybe it has to be cut off?"
"You fools!" Smith ranted, staring down at the prone form. "This creature has no business being on our ship…he'll kill us all! Or, we'll kill him if we open up that suit and he can't breathe our air…!"
Ignoring Smith's outburst and quickly examining the prostrate form, Professor Robinson pulled and prodded, then said, "I think Judy may be right, we might need to…"
At that moment, there was a loud "pop" from the alien, and the entire cocoon jerked slightly. Startled, Don flung himself away from the spaceman and struck Judy, who staggered into Dr. Smith, sending him reeling, arms flailing, as if to protect himself. John fell awkwardly onto his backside, preventing himself from tumbling over completely backwards by wildly throwing his arms behind him. Will and Penny jumped away in alarm; Maureen leaped back, her hands shielding her face.
Black lines had appeared on the alien's spacesuit from the top of his head to his crotch, and down each arm and each leg. Struggling upright and looking closely, Professor Robinson saw that they were in fact cracks in the suit. However, they were uniform in size and length, as if designed that way.
"Don, give me a hand here," he said. "I think the suit is open."
"Scared the crap out of me," Don griped in annoyance, leaning forward to assist. "Did you do that?"
"No," John said, trying to force his fingers into the cracks. "Maybe some automatic mechanism in the suit itself causes it to open in the presence of atmosphere…"
"Or, maybe he did it himself!" Will said, pointing at the alien.
"Are you sure we should be opening his suit?" Don asked tentatively.
"No!" John exclaimed angrily. "Now, pull!"
By pulling from either side, the two men found that the cocoon pulled apart easily, as if on hinges, although it did give off an unpleasant, organic ripping sound that caused Dr. Smith to squawk in squeamish dismay. As John and Don pulled the cocoon open, the rest of the Robinsons all gathered closer to get their first glimpse of the alien creature that lay inert on the floor in the remains of the suit.
He was very human in appearance. About average height for an adult, his arms, legs, torso, and head were all proportional and familiar. He was dressed in what appeared to be a fabric jumpsuit, completely black, that covered him from neck to foot. Gloves of the same material enclosed his hands. His face, while human, had an exotic quality that gave him an other-worldly cast. The oddly slanted eyes were further apart than usual, the nose slightly elongated, the lips thinner and cast in a bluish tinge. The cheekbones were high and aristocratic, giving the alien a regal bearing, thoroughly pleasant to the eye. Thick, black, straight hair covered his head, extending down over his ears. His eyes were closed, but his chest rose and fell with regular breathing.
Professor Robinson had extended a hand to feel the alien's chest. "He's breathing," he confirmed, "and I can feel a heartbeat. He sure seems human. Smith! Get over here and do something!"
"He looks kind of human, and kind of not," Penny observed, leaning closer. Her tone changed to wistful and dreamy. "He's kind of handsome in his own way."
Will snorted derisively, and Penny pushed at him in annoyance.
"Children," Maureen warned.
Dr. Smith had come over haltingly at John's command, but he was still holding back. "He's an alien! There's nothing I can do for him. I think he may be dead already!"
"I guess our air is okay for him," West commented, kneeling on the floor opposite John. "He doesn't seem to be in any distress. Smith! Get down here and examine him; he's still alive but may not be for long if this air is poisonous to him!"
"He could have other injuries," Maureen said, bending over the prostrate form. "Doctor, could you please have a look…?"
"Look!" Judy exclaimed, pointing.
The alien was stirring slightly. He tremulously lifted an arm and reached for his forehead, covering his still closed eyes and massaging his temples in a comfortingly human gesture.
"Can you hear me?" Professor Robinson asked gently.
"Yes."
The voice, no longer garbled by electronics, was deep and authoritative. Even Dr. Smith seemed reassured enough to approach more closely, staring down with interest at their guest.
"How do you feel?"
The hand lifted away from his head, and he opened his eyes, squinting against the bright ceiling lights. "Better." He looked about him in some bewilderment, seeing the group standing around him in a circle. "Who are you?"
"I'm Professor John Robinson, and you're aboard our vessel, the Jupiter 2. We are from a planet called Earth."
"Earth?" the spaceman repeated vaguely. "Where is that...?"
"Who are you?" West asked.
"This is ridiculous," Maureen suddenly interrupted testily, wagging a finger at West and the Professor. "John, we have a guest on board and we leave him lying on the floor! Where are your manners? Will!" she snapped.
Will jerked guiltily like a puppet on a string.
"Go to the galley at once and get some water and one of the spare oxygen bottles. Penny!"
Her daughter similarly stiffened as Will dashed for the ladder.
"Pull that chair over here. John, help me get him out of that suit and onto his feet." Both the Professor and West scrambled up as Penny grabbed the chair, everyone elbowing aside or pushing past a distracted Dr. Smith.
Maureen came down on one knee, bending down and laying a hand on the alien's shoulder. "Sir, are you hurt in any way? Can you stand?"
He looked up into Maureen's eyes, also appearing startled. "Well, yes, I believe so. If someone could help me…"
With Professor Robinson taking one arm, and Don the other, they assisted the alien up and out of the cocoon. Penny dragged over one of the ship's deck chairs, and John and Don guided the alien, still unsteady and weak, into the seat.
"Thank you," he said, dropping heavily into the chair. "I beg your pardon; I'm still feeling a little shaky after my ordeal."
"We'd like to talk about that," the Professor said, dragging another chair close and sitting down. "But first, what do you need? Are you hurt? Is this atmosphere all right for you? What about the temperature…?"
The alien waved distractedly. "I'm fine. The air in my ship was getting low, that's all. This feels fine to me, and I'm feeling better already. You said something about oxygen and nitrogen? That's good." The alien was breathing deeply, but apparently in no other distress.
John watched him carefully. "As I said before, I am Professor John Robinson, commander of an Earth deep-space colonization mission. What is your name?"
"I am Ordin." He looked at the Professor. "And you say you're from Earth? Where is that? What are you doing here?" He looked around at the Robinsons all gathered around.
John smiled amicably. "Well, that's a rather long story. But first, permit me to introduce my family."
Ordin acknowledged the names of everyone as John presented them.
As he finished, Will rose up on the lift, bearing a glass of water and a green-colored oxygen cylinder. Maureen took the water from him.
"Here," Maureen said, taking the water from him and offering it to Ordin. "This is water." She stopped herself uncertainly. "Can you drink water…?"
Ordin eagerly took the glass. "Yes, I can, and thanks." He drained the glass, and then held it out to Will. "Another. I feel very dehydrated from floating in space for many days."
"Sure!" Will grinned, dropping the oxygen bottle with a clang, and ran back to the lift.
"Bring a pitcher with you, Will!" Maureen called as he descended once again to the lower deck. She picked up the oxygen bottle and offered it to Ordin. "This is pure oxygen. Would it help?"
He waved it off. "No. I'm already feeling vastly recovered."
"Do you feel up to telling us what happened to you?" Professor Robinson asked.
"Yeah!" Don added. "It looked like you were in quite a battle with something."
Ordin looked about him at his audience, all of whom were intently listening. "I was in a battle," he affirmed, "and was left for dead." He took a deep breath as Will arrived and handed him another glass of water. "And, as you said, my tale is also a 'long story'. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Only if you feel up to it, of course!" Maureen answered, pulling up a chair for herself. "We are explorers and scientists, seeking knowledge. Please go on if you feel you can!"
"Tell us your story, and we'll tell you ours!" Judy added, sitting next to her mother.
Ordin took another sip. "Very well. I will begin."
Ordin said was a combat pilot--which instantly peaked West's attention--from the planet Alcandria, a nearby world orbiting a star in the depths of the nebula. The nebula he called the Clouds of Ariana, while Orpheus was the name of the star giving light and warmth to his world. Also orbiting Orpheus was a planet called Selesia. Selesia was a heavily populated world, ruled with an iron fist by one Shon-KonDar. This tyrant, some years ago, not satisfied with simply being the supreme king over an entire planet, claimed to be the physical incarnation of the Creator of the Universe, and demanded worship and slavish obedience from his oppressed people. With the certainty of his own divinity, he had proclaimed that Selesia, as the home of a god, was therefore also the center of the universe. As such, he decreed that it was necessary for his followers to spread out into the universe to "enlighten" those who were ignorant of his god-head and convert them to the one true religion. All civilized worlds would be gathered under his "beneficent" rule until he alone ruled the entire universe, which he would do for all eternity, since he was, of course, immortal.
The first stop on the everlasting crusade to bring the universe under Shon-KonDar's rule was to absorb the closest world, which was Alcandria. Alcandria, in the next most distant orbit around the star, was a quiet, peace-loving world of mystics, thinkers, and philosophers. It was a very progressive and enlightened world, ruled by an intellectually advanced parliament of scholars. It also had a profoundly detailed system of thought--some called it a religion--rooted in tradition that was centuries old. However, as advanced as it was in the realm of the mind, Alcandria was physically ill-prepared to repel an invasion of millions of Selesians who had been whipped into a frenzy of imperialism by their god-king ruler. Using great ships to cover the distance between the orbits of their two worlds, the Selesians invaded with huge armies and spaceships bristling with weapons. The invaders swept aside the minimal resistance given by Alcandria's small standing defense force and immediately established themselves as rulers of a shocked and outraged world.
For a short time, the Selesians moved quickly to allay the fears of the Alcandrians who suddenly found their world taken over by militaristic invaders. The Selesians maintained order by promising great improvements to Alcandria's infrastructure and assuring the Alcandrians that they would be free to continue their lives as they had before. The Selesians even brought in engineers and scientists on the heels of the invading army, and the Alcandrians found themselves to be well treated initially by the occupying force. However, only a few months later, the Selesian true colors were quickly revealed as cherished institutions were ruthlessly torn down, the Alcandrian parliament was disbanded, and the people found themselves at the mercy of brutal occupiers who were interested only in absorbing the Alcandrians into the oppressive totalitarian regime of the megalomaniacal Shon-KonDar. Treasured works of art and culture were looted and carried off to Selesia, temples were burned or razed, the intelligentsia was imprisoned, and all who offered the slightest criticism or resistance to Selesian ways were arrested, taken away, and never seen again. Groups of courageous protestors who gathered to express their views in spite of Selesian prohibitions were cold-bloodedly mowed down in the streets by heavily armed soldiers who showed no compunction at wholesale slaughter. The minions of Shon-KonDar ruled without mercy even while their ruler himself was already considering the next move in his mad drive to bring the entire universe under his divinely ordained rule.
However, while it was a world composed of thinkers and philosophers, Alcandria was not one to meekly submit to an illegitimate and oppressive rule. Years had passed, but the Alcandrian people, while paying lip-service to the customs and rules of Selesia, still preserved the ancient culture and values of the Alcandria of old. Not only that, but they had an active resistance movement that had taken on the characteristics of an institution, with a guerilla army and a force of space-faring fighter craft capable of inflicting heavy damage on Selesian lines of supply and transportation.
Ordin told the Robinsons he was a pilot in an organization called the Sons of Orpheus, named after their star, which was the formal arm of the resistance movement that sought to oust Selesia from Alcandria and re-establish it as an independent world. Ordin had been involved in a furious pitched space battle some days ago, when forces from Alcandria met a large armada from Selesia in the void between the orbits of the two worlds. The Alcandrian force had been thoroughly annihilated, but only after a sustained battle that caused great damage to the fleets of spacecraft from Selesia. Ordin himself had accounted for several kills, but his ship had sustained critical damage that left it unable to maneuver. Nearly powerless, his vessel floated clear of the battle zone while the fight moved on past him into the nebula, and his calls for help went unanswered. So, he remained in his slowly tumbling spacecraft for several days, sustaining himself on what few provisions were left in his cockpit and tortured by thoughts of a lingering death in the silence of the pulsing nebula.
"And then," Ordin concluded, "I woke from unconsciousness to find you, Professor Robinson, wiping the ice crystals from my face plate and staring at me. I did not know what to think but was certain I was having a hallucination brought on by oxygen starvation."
He sat back and gazed at the family, who had been listening with rapt attention. For some moments, no one said anything, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, John leaned back in his seat; the springs in it creaked softly.
"That was an extraordinary story," he said, steepling his fingers, his elbows on the arm of the chair. "But, aside from your amazing survival, you're telling me that we are close to two warring planets somewhere in this nebula?"
"I would not call it a war," Ordin mused, "because Selesia has already taken us over. But the resistance fight continues, and we will never surrender our spirit or our desire for freedom."
"There's nothing on our sensors," Major West said. He looked over at the Robot, who had been watching silently. "Robot, you're not detecting planets in range, are you?"
"Negative," the Robot answered. "There are no planet-sized bodies in range of sensors. However, the radiation and spatial disturbances from the nebula are affecting the quality of the signals I am getting. It is possible planetary bodies in our area may be undetected until we are closer."
"Now you tell us," Don grumbled irritably, casting a glance out the main viewport window. "There are planets out there we can't see, along with fleets of battling spaceships, and we've just been sailing along happily thinking we're all by our lonesome. That's not a comforting thought."
"What I'm a little more concerned with," John said, his brow furrowed, "is that we seem to have blundered into the middle of an interplanetary war, we're lost in this nebula, and we have no way to defend ourselves."
A somberness settled over the group as they digested this piece of information.
"I'll tell you what we need to do!" Dr. Smith declared, who had been leaning on a bulkhead nearby, arms crossed. "We need to resume our interrupted journey to Earth at once! This so-called war is no business of ours. The sooner we proceed on our way, the quicker we can put some distance between us…and them!" He eyed Ordin hostilely, then leaned forward with exaggerated politeness. "No offense, sir."
Ordin regarded Smith impassively, took another drink of water, and then set the glass deliberately on the floor. When he straightened, his gaze returned to the Professor. "Your Dr. Smith makes a good point. This situation between Alcandria and Selesia is not your battle, and, if what you say is true, you have no weapons to defend yourselves. It would be folly of an extreme sort to get involved. Dr. Smith is correct: this is not your fight, nor your business."
"See!" Smith blurted in surprised delight. "He even agrees with me! He is truly an enlightened creature. We must…"
"Hey, we don't run from a fight!" Don interrupted hotly, glaring at Dr. Smith.
"Now, Don," John placated, raising a hand. "Ordin didn't mean that. And, in this case, I also think Dr. Smith has a valid opinion."
Dumbfounded, Dr. Smith merely goggled happily, his shock supreme at being defended when he expected only the usual put-downs.
"However," Ordin continued carefully, straightening in his chair and staring intently at the Professor, "it is still my fight. I must find a way to return to my world as soon as possible to continue the battle against our oppressors. It is my duty, as I'm sure you can understand." He paused. "Would it be possible for you to return me to Alcandria before you continue your journey to this planet called Earth?"
Dr. Smith opened his mouth, clearly about to voice a protest, but Professor Robinson forestalled him by holding up a finger. "Just a moment, Doctor." He looked away in thought; everyone's eyes on him. "Aside from some other problems, it would depend how far away your planet is. We have been on a direct course to find our own world, and we are constrained by our fuel supply. A search would have to be very limited, and any detour, very short. I'm not sure we could do that."
Ordin watched him. "I doubt I could have strayed very far from my system. We were approximately mid-way between the orbits of both planets when we attacked the Selesians, and I doubt I would have drifted far." When John said nothing, Ordin continued hopefully. "The navigation equipment on my vessel was still operational before I had to shut it down to conserve power. If I can get it powered back up, it should be an easy matter to fix Alcandria's position and plot a course. At that point, we can see whether a detour is possible for you. In fact," he leaned forward eagerly, "it might only be necessary to get me close so I could be picked up by one of my own ships, and you could continue on your way without even getting close to Alcandria. And, you would find out where Selesia was, so you could give it a wide berth on your way out of our system."
When the Professor said nothing, Maureen rose to her feet. "John? A word, please?"
"Excuse us," John said to Ordin, rising and following his wife towards the helm at the viewport.
When they were out of earshot, John smiled down at his wife. "Darling, I know what you're going to say…"
Maureen spoke softly, the coruscating light from the nebula coming through the viewport and illuminating one side of her face. "We can't take him with us to Earth, and you know that. It would be so wrong on so many levels. It would be like kidnapping him and carrying him far from his home!" Her gaze seemed to harden slightly. "How would you feel if you were taken away from us simply because it was convenient for your rescuers? We'd never know if you were alive, or dead, or injured…"
John just watched her, a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips, a gesture which did not escape Maureen's observation.
"We have to help him, if we can," she continued with firm conviction in her voice. "At least, let's find out more before we give an answer. If we don't have the fuel, then that might be another question, but I don't think we're there yet. Maybe Alcandria is a short distance away, or maybe one of the ships from his fleet is looking for him, or…"
He placed a finger gently on her lips, silencing her. "Easy. I'm thinking the same as you. All right, let's pursue this a little more. But…!" he raised his finger. "The safety of this family comes first, and I reserve the right to make a decision based on that alone, if necessary. Do you agree?"
Maureen's lips curled upwards into that devastating smile of hers, the same one she often used when she knew a battle was won. "I agree."
"All right, then. Come on."
All eyes were on them as they rejoined the group. John's arm was around Maureen's waist, clearly signifying they were of one mind in the matter. John's eyes scanned his family before settling on Ordin, who watched him expressionlessly but with a certain underlying tension.
"Ordin," he said, speaking slowly, "explain how we would go about finding your planet."
Ordin' face broke out into a broad smile.
38
