Disclaimer: I don't own Lost in Space.
A/n: Hey all, cutting this a little close but here is chapter 4! I can't believe series 3 starts tomorrow! How have we managed to wait this long? Hoping to post the final chapter very soon. Please read and review if you have the time. Would love to know what you think. As always, enjoy x
Chapter 4
Two hours in and she's not looking at the fuel tank levels anymore. Every so often a meteor shoots past the outer hull and a terrible grinding noise ricochets through the ship. They've left the larger meteoroids behind, but they're not - as his mother-in-law used to be so fond of saying - out of the woods yet.
From the corner of his eye, John watches as Maureen scribbles calculations into her notebook, a continuous scrawl that changes with every new trajectory and coordinate, their slim passage of escape widening and shortening as data pours into the computer.
"Hey." John settles down on the floor beside her, stretches out his tired bones. "Don't suppose you've got any ideas on how we can get ourselves out of this one? I mean, it's not the worst situation we've ever been in, right?"
His chuckle is quiet, but she doesn't respond in kind. Her gaze is fixed, mind ostensibly undeterred by his words, attention absorbed entirely by the math. Or so he thinks. He's seen her at work enough times to understand how her world shrinks. Noises cease. Time becomes invariably superfluous as she unconsciously blocks out everything and anything that might distract her. Even him, on occasion. But the subtle hitch in her breathing indicates otherwise and he knows instinctively that she's heard.
"I'm not coming up with any more crazy ideas, John," she replies after a while. "I've caused enough mess as it is."
"Maureen-"
"We've just lost the only means of getting to Alpha Centauri." She stops him before he can persuade her otherwise. "We have less fuel in the tank than I'd like, and for all we know we could have anything between a two month or five year journey ahead of us, or longer."
His hand comes to rest on her knee, shoulder bumping against hers, iterating her favourite phrase:
"Every problem has a solution."
Moving over to the viewscreen, Maureen shakes her head, meets his inquisitive gaze with an air of crushing finality.
"I don't know anymore."
The tablet slides across the cockpit, ship rolling and righting, sifting through another cascade of meteor dust. In the silence that follows, John wonders if she's right. If there is no scientifically-feasible solution to their situation. If all their efforts had been in vain. It would be easy to give in to the dark well of thoughts at the edge of his conscious, to join his wife on the periphery and give in. Instead he finds, amidst the darkness, a different truth.
They don't need mathematical possibilities. They simply need the merest glimmer of unswerving faith that they'll see their children again.
"This isn't your fault, Maureen," John begins quietly. "Those robots were coming. Before we planned the mutiny. Before Hastings tried to leave us behind."
She isn't convinced, not even a little, so he reverts to logic instead.
"You and I both know if the Resolute had left for Alpha Centauri the robots would have come for their engine, right? They would have attacked the Resolute just like they did the first time."
"John..."
He's standing opposite her now, intent on drawing out the poison.
"We've seen first-hand what the robots are capable of. Risking the lives of everyone on board was never an option. Kamal and Hastings - they were focused on saving the ship. But sometimes you have to sacrifice the ship in order to save the crew. Believe me, I know." His hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him, even if she isn't ready to acknowledge the honest truth of his words. "Maureen, without you nearly five hundred colonists would have been stranded down on that planet, left there with little to no hope of ever being reunited with their families. But we-" He takes her hands, squeezes every ounce of remaining courage into them. "We have that hope. And we've got to hold on to it."
The tiniest nod of her head is enough.
"We might not all be together, but we're alive, Maureen, and right now that's all that matters."
She knows, deep down, that he's right. His breathing stills, held in suspense as if he's about to say something else, as if he's found the words that can give them the assurance they so desperately covet, but then the weight of him shifts away.
"Why don't you go and get some rest? I'll keep watch. You get some sleep." He's already steering her gently toward the door, offering her little chance to protest. "I'll let you know if anything changes."
Searching his gaze, Maureen looks for some minute footfall she can take hold of to sway his determination, but there's something in his expression, something she can't quite identify, that extinguishes any argument she might have devised.
Sleep, as inviting as it sounded, was miles away. For rest alone could not alleviate the aching beat in her chest.
...
"Judy?"
"What?"
"Just..." Penny sinks against the navigation console, anger spent. "Just promise me you'll come back."
She's said this before. A long time ago. On a planet she doesn't like to think about. Wondered with that same gut-wrenching anxiety if fate will be kind to her family. There's a sparkle of faint excitement in Judy's eyes as she takes a seat at the helm, checking over her suit for the third and final time.
"The Captain's not abandoning ship, Penny. I'm just not willing to let anyone else risk their life."
"But you're risking yours," Penny is quick to observe.
A fairly straightforward procedure, Judy had called it earlier, this jumping from ship to ship business. Only now she admits there's an element of risk involved.
"I'm coming right back here to you and Will, okay?" Judy places a hand on her sister's shoulder. "You're in charge until I get back."
Penny can't stop the nervous laughter that bubbles up into existence, blinking hard against a responsibility she'd rather not take on. She'd rarely been trusted with anything more serious than cleaning filters or tending to the crops back on the Water Planet, let alone flying or commanding a Jupiter. The driving of their chariot down a ridiculously steep cliff face in the middle of a snowstorm had been a one-off whim that didn't bear repeating.
"Judy, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm really, really not Captain material," Penny protests, already gathering a thousand reasons why leaving her in charge is a terrible idea, but Judy smiles that annoyingly knowing smile of hers and draws her into a tight hug.
"Neither was I. But Dad believed in me. And I believe in you." She draws back, looks her in the eye, voice serious and full of unfaltering conviction. "I trust you, Penny. You can do this. Besides, I'll only be gone an hour or two."
Penny nods, though the worry remains. Her sister has never once broken a promise, or lied to her. At least not intentionally, or when it matters most.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
...
"John?"
He doesn't recognise the voice at first, muffled and hazy, calling him away from the deep tunnel of thoughts he's been drifting through for the last hour or so. Compartmentalising them one by one, attempting to come to terms with everything they've been through, if only to ignore the insistent throbbing of his bruises and the aching beneath his ribs. The ship is quiet, though the occasional sensor beep alerts him to a passing meteorite in close proximity. But when he turns around, expecting there to be someone standing in the gangway, there is no one to greet him.
"John, come in. Can you hear me?"
He's on his feet in an instant, ripping the receiver from its hook, reeling with hope.
"Victor?"
A breath of relief.
"You made it then."
"Yeah," John replies. "Yeah, we did."
"What's your current position?"
"We're in orbit around the Amber planet. Fuel's low. Down to 32% in reserves. We're conserving as much as we can. What about you? How many of us made it out?"
"We're a few hundred kilometres off the southern axis," Victor answers. "Jupiter's Seven and Thirteen sustained some heavy damage, but there were no casualties as far as we know. The other Jupiters have scattered." The question in his tone is clear. "There's no one else in range."
"The robots might be jamming the signal," John offers. "We don't know how advanced their technology is."
"Advanced enough to jump several lightyears through space, apparently..." Static cracks through the communication. "I've got to go. I'll be in touch again soon."
"Hey, Victor?" John interrupts before Victor can end the transmission. "I just wanted to say thank you. For saving Will back on the Amber Planet. He told me what you did."
"You would have done the same for my boy," Victor says, then, with precipitous sincerity: "I'm still this Colony's representative, John, though we might all be scattered across space. I don't intend on leaving anyone behind." He pauses, asks with barely concealed hope: "I don't suppose Maureen come up with any ideas on how we can reach Alpha Centauri yet?"
"No, not yet."
There's no room for disappointment. They've too many other emotions, whether realised or not, to deal with for now.
"Alright, let me know when she does. The sooner we get away from here the better. People are starting to get restless."
"Yeah," John affirms. "I will."
He hangs up the receiver, Victor's words still ringing in his ears. When. When she's figured it out, he'd said. Not if. Not whether. But when.
There's a reassuring sentiment in that phrase, a hope shared, and a grudging expectation.
