Disclaimer: I don't own Lost in Space. Just borrowing the characters for a bit.

A/n: Hey all! I found this fanfic gathering dust in my phone notes from last February and decided, considering the majority of the plot was there, to actually finish it. This was all written before the teaser/trailer came out, and is a general idea for how season 3 might begin carrying straight on from the end of series 2. (If you haven't seen it there will be spoilers ahead). Not the best thing I've ever written, but it's a bit of fun. Please read and review if you have the time. I'd love to know what you think and if you have any theories. As always, enjoy x


Chapter 1


Dust. A sea of particles and matter drifts into the blackest of horizons. Light flares, growing, dimming, a rotation of life and death turning on an ever-revolving axis. Metal glints in the azure rays; the dark canvas of space is absolute. And all thought of ever reaching the Colony seems infinitesimally small.

In the shadow of the Amber Planet the Jupiter Two lingers, looking out across the expanse of scattered dust rising from the atmosphere below. In the far distance the army of robot ships still gathers. Waits. Plans, perhaps. And further beyond that lies an emptiness where the rift had opened and the Jupiter Transport burdened with the task of carrying their children to safety had passed through.

For hours she has sat patiently, waiting for the slightest indication of movement, alert to anything that might threaten the momentary relief they have managed to salvage. She feels it all escalating inside her mind: an ever-building anticipation that chips away at the impossible. A multitude of questions she cannot answer.

Warmth spreads through the cockpit for the briefest of moments, a soothing heat against her tired bones. All too soon it fades away, disappearing behind a volley of silhouetted shapes spiraling into oblivion: the remains of The Resolute.

The glass is cool as she leans against it, watching this strange universe turn. The ships glitter as they continue to converge - although with what intent she cannot even begin to speculate. Not for the first time she wonders if the robot's existence, their lives, are as transient and fragile as her own.

A crackle of static. In a matter of seconds she's reaching up to grasp the receiver.

"This is the Jupiter Two. Does anyone read, over?" The line cricks and cracks, muffled radio waves rising and falling in succession. "This is the Robinsons calling any other Jupiter. Please respond."

But there is none. Perhaps she shouldn't have ventured to hope there would be, and yet there the hope remains, clutched to her chest in a grip tight enough to make her knuckles hurt.

"Any sign of the other Jupiters?"

She looks up to see her husband entering the room, his face carrying more worries, more scars than it had a few weeks ago. He sits down on the window ledge, expression heavy with unspoken thoughts.

"No. No, not yet."

Maureen hangs up the receiver, deciding to leave the disappointment there lest it should begin to fester. Heaven knows they have enough worries to carry. She draws up her knees, takes up a position at his side.

"They can't have gone far," Maureen says eventually. "I don't think any of the Jupiters were fully refueled and no one will fly in any direction unless they have an exact destination in mind. And considering we don't even know for certain which direction Alpha Centauri is in..."

"They could have gone through the rift," John suggests.

We're on our own - the unspoken, unthinkable words hidden between the lines. Maureen shakes her head, offers a small, reassuring smile.

"The robots could still be jamming the signal, or the dust from the Amber Planet could be interfering with the sensors..."

His hand finds the curve of her spine; Maureen shifts closer.

"We'll figure something out," he says. "We always do."

She sighs shakily, rests her head on his shoulder. He plants a kiss into her hair, breathes her in, a mix of honey and smoke and sweat.

"I just wish I knew they were alright."

...

Staring out at the unknown, the shattered planet glowing beneath the rays of a single golden star, Judy Robinson's lips pinch together in a thin, exasperated line. All is quiet on the Jupiter Transport. The hope that had driven them here has long dwindled away, replaced by emotions that seem to collide with every breath, every glance. Guilt. Curiosity. Dread. Anger. Only one thing is for certain. They're not supposed to be here. Wherever here is.

This is not Alpha Centauri. This is not their new home.

The air in the cockpit shrinks, heavy with the weight of troubled young minds. Vijay, son of their Colony representative and self-proclaimed third in command, after Penny of course, sits at the helm, flicking through the astronomical database with fervent determination. At the navigation console, Penny stares intently at the receiver, waiting in vain for a response she knows will not come. And behind the cockpit doors, as yet unaware of their current situation: the children of the 24th colonist group rest in their make-shift bunks.

"You know I really, really wish mom had packed another packet of Oreos."

"Seriously, Penny." Judy rolls her eyes. "How can you be thinking about food at a time like this?"

"I'm not." The middle Robinson sibling shrugs innocently. "I mean, I am. But I was thinking more about mom and dad. And the fact that we're not at Alpha Centauri like we thought we'd be, and not one of us has come up with a single thing we can do about it."

Yet - she wants to add. But the pessimist in her will not allow it. Frowning down at the communications panel, Penny considers all the numerous controls and levers and buttons, and realises, with barely concealed aggravation, that there is nothing she can do. Absently, she wonders how long it will take their parents to realise they haven't reached their new home. How long it would've taken her mother to concoct some insanely crazy solution, had she been with them. But she won't wonder for long. She's done enough crying for one day. Enough, in the past few weeks, to last a last time.

The cockpit doors slide open. All eyes turn to the youngest Robinson as he trudges down the ramp to meet them as if, in the half hour they've been sitting there, he might have come up with some conceivable solution. But Will shakes his head, eyes lowered, and Penny goes back to twiddling her thumbs.

"Wait." Vijay slides forward in his seat. "You guys brought Oreos?"

"Past tense." Penny clarifies, swiveling round to face the hopeful voice. "We brought Oreos. We justifiably ate them after several near-death experiences on the P-W-N-B-T-N."

Vijay blinks.

"The what?"

"The Planet-We-Never-Bothered-To-Name," the Robinsons say in unison.

"Oh. Right. I mean, because that was so obvious," Vijay mutters irritably. "You know you probably weren't supposed to bring Oreos. There are strict food import laws-"

"Okay, can we just focus on the problem here?" Judy raises her voice, pacing back over to the window.

"Yeah." Vijay shrinks back in his head. "Sure."

Light filters through the debris, shifting and twisting into fragmented rays as the planet continues to crumble at an indiscernible rate. In the midst of it all, caught in its gravitational pull, the twenty-something year old ship waits in hopeful silence, narrowly missing asteroid after asteroid. The Fortuna, a ship she has only ever seen in old photographs and occasionally in her dreams, is everything she imagined. A remnant of old-fashioned space travel. An antique compared to the Jupiter.

Curiosity demands that she search that ship inside out for any trace of her biological father. Just in case. But the responsibility to her crew demands she first come up with a plan to get them home.

A few hours ago her heart had been broken in two; now it threatened to break into three.

"Will, can the Robot find a way to get us to Alpha Centauri?"

"I- I don't know," Will replies. "I don't think he knows where it is. We only found this place based on a signal, and we're not on the Resolute anymore so..."

"So our sensors aren't strong enough to pick up anything that far away," Penny finishes deflatedly.

"Hey, we don't even know where we are."

"Okay, one problem at a time, people." Penny holds up her hands, shooting an exasperated look at the boy who'd stolen her first kiss and saved her from being crushed between the walls of a giant trash compactor.

The room falls silent once again. Judy turns away from the window, hands deep in her pockets, decision made.

"We've got 98 passengers. We've got enough oxygen and fuel to last us a while longer, but we're low on rations and we have haven't got any astronomical data for this sector of space. From where I'm standing, there's only one thing we can do."