Disclaimer: I don't own Lost in Space.

A/n: Hey all, here is chapter 3! Turns out there was a whole section missing that I thought I'd written (but no, it turned out it only existed in my imagination!) so had to reshuffle a few parts of the story around. Please read and review if you have the time. Would love to know what you think. As always, enjoy x


Chapter 3


"Judy, I hate to break it to you, sis, but this plan of yours is crazy. And when I say crazy, I mean mom kinda crazy."

She doesn't care that the others might overhear her. Doesn't care that her tone is sharp with resent, on the verge of sounding hysterical. Of all the things she had imagined her older sister might do, the one person she has always relied on to be both responsible and reasonable, it most certainly hadn't been this.

"No, wait. What am I saying?" Penny slaps her forehead, a laugh bursting forth. "This- this is more than crazy. This is insane!"

Judy huffs as her younger sister cuts off her path once again, barring her route to the container holding their helmets.

"You said it yourself: what else are we supposed to do?"

"Judy, we don't even know if there's anyone still over there," Penny points out, sensing the pain her words might inflict before she utters them. "Your Dad... He..."

It's strange saying those words. Your dad.

Something shifts and the thought slides away, out of sight and mind. It is, given all rational thought, an inevitable conclusion. Judy's hand finds her shoulder, her faced creased with understanding, lips lifting into a faint smile.

"I know. I know, Penny. But there might be supplies. Things we can use. More importantly, there might be charts and maps of this area that we don't have."

"Yeah, like twenty-year-old supplies," Penny mutters under her breath.

"We've got to think practically now."

"You mean we've got to think like mom."

She doesn't mean to sound so aggressively bitter. On the contrary, attempting to think like their mother isn't a bad thing. It's just something she's never felt capable of doing.

"And Dad," Judy adds encouragingly, but it does little to alleviate the tension. She leans against the container their younger brother is sitting on, his expression clearly concerned. "Hey." She nudges his shoulder. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know, Judy," Will says slowly. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

His admission brings the world to a standstill, and for a while it's just the three of them, reveling in each other's company, this fragile silence in which they can allow themselves to dream of their parents, or home, in all its many different forms, of a day when everything might return to something resembling normality.

"Look," Judy begins eventually, "until we can figure out how to get to Alpha Centauri we're gonna need every bit of help we can get. No matter where it comes from. And if that means me leaving ship for a while then that's how it has to be."

"Okay, but how are you even going to get over there? I mean, it's not like you can just jump from ship to ship or anything," Penny laughs, but there's a strange glint in her sister's eye that makes her stop abruptly. "Wait, you're not..." The idea is becoming more and more impossible as it takes shape. "You're not seriously suggesting that, right?"

"Wait." Will blinks. "What?"

"We find a safety hatch. Fly close enough. Line up the doors." Judy shrugs, all optimism, as if she's done this a hundred times before, as if this is just another ordinary day in space. "It's a fairly straightforward procedure."

"Okay." Penny pinches the bridge of her nose. "Judy, honey, making a sandwich is a fairly straightforward procedure."

"Not to mention there's debris and pieces of planet floating around."

The fourth voice is unexpected, and the three Robinsons turn to find Vijay leaning against the far wall, his hands folded across his chest, looking none too pleased. Penny shoots him a warning glare, immediately on the defensive.

"I'm sorry, who invited you to this discussion?"

It's meant as a threat, a feeble one at that, but Vijay breezes past, accustomed to her sarcastic nature.

"If we go too close we're risking the transport," he points out, as if he's accusing them of being thoughtless - or worse, reckless. "As well as everyone on it."

"Then I guess we'll just have to fly to the safest possible distance and go from there."

She's on the home straight now, Penny realises. There's no disputing that subtle glint in her sister's eyes. Little chance, if any, of changing her mind. Her decision has already been made.

"Will, can your Robot fly us close enough or not?"

The youngest Robinson falters, willing himself to come up with another option. Any plausible alternative. But he can't find one, and his head hangs in defeat.

"Yeah, he can. At least, I think so."

"Great," Judy nods. "That's all that matters."

...

The first few waves of meteors skim over the hull like pebbles across still water. Barely audible, invisible against the blanket of space save for the few that pass beneath and catch the light of the distant binary stars. Brief sparks of gold; beautiful, and yet deadly. Then comes the second wave, the pieces growing in size and number, ricocheting off their already battered Jupiter.

All previously damaged areas have been checked, every possible area of weakness strengthened by whatever can be found aboard. They'll brush past the brunt of the shower, Maureen assures them, evade the most destructive meteors heading in their direction. It is all, as always, in the math, but no matter how hard he tries, John can't shake the sense of foreboding that runs through his veins, the incalculable number of alternatives that come from living life a little too close to the edge.

Now, orbiting the Amber Planet, all they can do is wait.

She is quiet beside him, watching the meteors burn their way across the expanse behind them. It had taken little fuel to manoeuvre the ship into orbit and, aside from the narrow margin of time by which they had escaped, there was nothing to cause alarm. Until they exited orbit and found themselves facing the conundrum of what to do next, of course. Every time she glances nervously at the fuel tank readings John's hand subconsciously finds her arm, rubs over her elbow, and she hums in reply, glancing back at the monitor again when she thinks he isn't looking.

Don is half asleep, though his eyes blink open occasionally as if to countermand such an observation. Ava sits at the navigation station as if she's always belonged there and not in the bowls of the engineering sector. Only Debbie's intermittent clucking breaks the silence.

"Right, that's it."

Jumping up, Don heads speedily toward the Hub, his sudden movement causing the others to start.

"Wait, Don," Maureen calls, already on her feet. "Where are you going?"

Her question is met with a heavy groan and a twisted, pained expression.

"Seriously, Maureen, so you have any idea how long it's been since I peed? All this running around has put serious stress on my bladder, and I-"

She quickly holds up her hand: an apology, and a barrier against further unwelcome information.

"Look, if nobody minds, I'm gonna go and lie down for a bit - considering we're not in any immediate danger or anything. Besides, Debbie here needs her beauty sleep." He looks down at the chicken nestled in the crook of his elbow, strokes over her russet feather. "Don't you, Debbie?"

She'll grant him that. They could all do with some sleep. The kind that is uninterrupted and blissful, that isn't filled with disturbing images or broken in the dead of night by jarring noises.

"It might get a little rough on the ride round," she offers, masking the phrase don't be too long behind balance and probability. "There's a chance we could be hit by a few more meteors on the way, but we should pass the majority of it unscathed."

Don suppresses a knowing grimace, holds Debbie a little closer to his chest.

"Your filling me with confidence here, Mrs Robinson."

"All I'm saying is we'll reach the other side of the planet in about five and a half hours."

"Don't worry," Don grins. "I'll be here." He makes to turn, then swivels back around, boyish grin replaced with one of sobriety. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Thanks for, you know, saving my life and all. Back on the Resolute. I mean, I know you were actually trying to save the pipes from bursting and you had no idea I was in there, but-"

"No, Don, it's my fault Hastings opened the OJ door in the first place-"

"Look, put it this way, if you hadn't jumped into a maintenance pod and closed that door me and Ava here would have been..."

At the sound her name, Ava looks up, a warning in her glare should he attempt to bring up the subject again.

"Yeah, actually I don't want to think about that," Don back-pedals. "I'm still feeling a bit freaked out by the whole nearly being sucked out into space situation, anyway."

Maureen is half-attempting another explanation when he pats her shoulder lightly.

"No excuses. I don't want to hear them. I say thank you. You say you're welcome. Okay? Besides I kinda just saved both your lives, so we're even." He smirks, looks between the two of them, free hand over his heart. "Real romantic moment that was."

Had his expression not been so entirely sincere, Maureen might have imagined a glimmer of sarcasm in his tone.

"It was, wasn't it?" John whispers as the mechanic disappears around the corner. Her reply fades as his hands slide around her waist, making sure, for the thousandth time, that they really are alive.

...

"Judy, you can't go."

She's lost count of how many times she's said that now, how many times she has come up with another argument to prove her point. That space is dangerous. Beyond dangerous, even. She could spend years listing the reasons why propelling oneself through space, however short the distance, is a bad idea. She could describe what might happen if something goes wrong. What would happen if she's hit by debris, or her suit is compromised or-

"Penny..." Judy suppresses a sigh, giving one last check over the controls.

The sensation is too powerful to ignore, the stiffening of her bones, the gut-instinct that tells her something terrible might happen.

"No. No, listen, I'm serious. Dad put you in charge. You're the Captain."

"But, Penny, that's why I have to do this. I'm responsible for everyone on this ship-"

"Exactly. He put you in charge," Penny bites back, hands on her hips, mind spiraling with emotions she can neither name nor number. "So, what are we all supposed to do if you get stuck over there? Or if something goes wrong? Just cause Dad put you in charge doesn't mean you have to do this on your own."

"She's right."

The sound of heavy, metallic footsteps follows. Their younger brother enters the cockpit, closely followed by the Robot. His presence has always yielded an exhilarating balance of calm and caution, erring dangerously toward fear from time to time, but for the Robinsons it brings an assurance that, with him by their side, they can face anything.

This mission isn't just about maps and supplies anymore. This is bigger than that. It's the unexplainable. For Judy: the irresistible.

"Look, Dad said something to me once. That just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. But I've thought about it, and... I need to do this, okay? I need to know."

"I know you do," says Will, glancing at his best friend, the blue spiralling lights that only he seems to truly understand. "But we're not letting you go alone."