CHAPTER 2
Later that evening, or what passed for evening based on the ship's chronometers, the family had a meal together. Judy, in a foul mood, had whipped up a cake, and was serving the first piece to a smiling Smith. She sat down next to Don and sighed loudly.
"So Professor," Smith said without preamble. "Rumor has it that we are bound for a fairly hospitable planet this time."
"No rumor, Doctor, we are on our way."
"Any information on it?"
"Tropical supposedly, earthlike atmosphere, drinkable water, many plants and animals, most of which should pose no threat. The chart provided no other information."
Smith leaned back in his seat, and patted a slightly rounded stomach contentedly. "Ah, a tropical paradise. How lovely! I was just thinking about how much I would enjoy another vacation."
Don leaned forward, and pointedly glared at Smith. "Don't even think about a vacation." He jabbed a straight finger at the doctor's nose. "You will be working along with the rest of us, or I'll be sure to throw you to those space monsters you are always talking about."
"Indeed!" Smith sniffed irritatingly. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me," was the succinct response.
The two men stared unblinking at one another for the better part of a minute, before Smith broke the contact. The evil light in the Major's eyes told him he'd better not push it. Therefore, he'd play along until they landed and then make good his 'escape' at the first opportunity. He'd find himself some nice little cove or hidden meadow, set up a hammock and just blissfully rock himself to sleep.
They made planetfall right on schedule two days later. The ship settled quietly into the lush grasses of a small clearing in the midst of impossibly tall, slender, broad-leafed trees. After a preliminary scan of the air, John opened the hatch and climbed down the stairs. Laser pistol in hand, he hastily scanned the clearing. He placed one foot on the bluish green grasses, and hastily withdrew it. Nothing disturbed the surface, no creatures from below tried to swallow his foot whole.
Looking at the tree line he noted the tree dwelling beasts, but also saw a myriad of small mammals and reptiles wending their way through the thick undergrowth. John heaved a loud sigh. At least this wasn't going to be like the last jungle world they'd been on where the carnivores lived below ground level, preying upon the unfortunates that happened to topple out of the tree tops.
After a brief reconnaissance of the area, he returned to the lower deck and found the rest of his party eagerly awaiting the words declaring the place safe to explore a bit more thoroughly.
"So far, it looks safe enough. You can go out and stretch your legs," he assured them. "However, I don't want anyone wandering from the clearing for now. As soon as I'm certain it's safe to settle in for a short while right here, we'll lower the Jupiter 2 to ground level and set up the access ramp. Don, Smith, give me a hand getting the force field generator checked out."
Smith opened his mouth as if to protest the orders but shut it again with an audible snap once he saw the look in Robinson's eyes. Sighing, he gestured his acknowledgment but continued with formulating his own plans, none of which involved that ugly four-letter word – work.
The most work he actually did do was to watch West and Robinson unloading the necessary outdoor gear to a spot not more than 15 feet from the viewscreen. Yet, he was ever hopeful that their attention would be so focused on their task that he would be able to slip away without them even noticing he was gone.
As it turned out, Don and John kept such a close watch on him that he didn't have a blessed moment to himself unless he was in his cabin or in the head. He covertly attempted to leave the perimeter, but the robot's sensors were far too good to be fooled and the warning was always given. Only after John literally locked him in his cabin for a full day, did Smith finally surrender and give up trying to take off. Though he looked at his incarceration as a reprieve from doing chores, it was no better than being cooped up in the ship while still out in space. He craved a bit of sunshine, and grew desperate enough for those pink rays to actually help out, if only to get himself outside for a while.
Several days later, John found what he was looking for. A fairly good size deutronium deposit about four miles from the ship. A long trek, but not so far as to be terribly inconvenient. Provided, of course, that the local denizens of the jungle left them alone during the trek. Finally, after much preparation, John loaded up several small backpacks with various pieces of testing equipment, handed out laser pistols to Don and Smith, who reluctantly strapped it on, and then passed out the machetes.
"Hey, wait a minute," Judy called. "I'm coming with you." She was also carrying a small pack, and a canteen.
"Sorry, sweetheart, I think it's best if you stayed here, where you'll be safer."
"Forget it Dad! I'm tired of being left behind, and being treated like I have nothing to contribute. I'm coming along."
Suddenly Will and Penny piped in, "Yeah, me too!"
John looked at his wife imploringly but she merely crossed her arms, smiled sweetly and said, "Great, a family outing. Wait a few minutes, and I'll pack enough food for all of us."
Smith got ready to drop his machete in the grass. "Ahh. Familial bliss. How wonderful. You obviously don't need me now, so I think I'll just – "
"What you'll do, Smith, is stand right there and wait until Maureen is finished. And after that, you will take the first leg of cutting through the jungle."
Color rose angrily beneath Smith's lightly tanned complexion. "Me, sir? You cannot possibly expect me to take the forefront of this expedition. I have no idea where I am going, and with my heart being what it is, all that hacking and slashing will likely be the death of me."
John glared back. "Cut it, Smith. I didn't buy that 'bad heart' bit years ago and I don't buy it now. And don't even think of mentioning your bad back – "
"But it's a disaster area today," Smith whined fretfully. He knew the ploy wasn't going to work, but habit forced him to it anyway.
Don piped in, "Well, I have a wonderful solution. Hard work. Builds up weak back muscles you know." And having finished his explanation, Don grabbed Smith's sleeve and propelled him toward the perimeter. "In fact, John, what do you say about the good doctor getting a start right now, while you wait."
"Why Don, what an excellent suggestion," John grinned.
Don returned the grin. "I knew you'd like it."
"Would either of you like to know what I think?" Smith hissed as he turned once more to face them.
"No!" the other two men said in perfect unison. Don shoved Smith hard enough to propel the older man toward the forest.
Angrily gnashing his teeth, the doctor yanked the machete out of the canvas scabbard and took an angry swipe at the thick foliage. It split with a satisfying crack, and limbs toppled to the ground. Smith envisioned the Major's leering face before him, and each succeeding blow of the blade sent brush flying in every direction. Behind him, Don dropped back slightly, as if reading the doctor's mind. Though he never seriously entertained the thought that the typical cowardly Smith would turn on him, an enraged and armed Smith might be another matter. He had no intention of antagonizing him far enough to finding out.
Smith had cut about 400 yards in to the forest when the rest of the Robinson party joined up with them. By then, Smith was soaked with perspiration and panting from his efforts.
"My arms feel like lead," he said between gasps. "I simply cannot swing this thing one more time."
"Let a pro show you how it's done," Don smiled widely, and began to whack at the trees with a vengeance.
Deeper and deeper the group plunged into the jungle, with John taking over from Don when the young pilot had finally grown weary. When Smith's turn came again, Don had to fetch him bodily from the back of the line, but by then the doctor was far too miserable to put up much of a fight. His anger at the major long since petered out, he drove himself forward by sheer force of will. And then, as if by magic, the last branch dropped from before them and another clearing appeared.
Even more surprising was the animal trail leading off in the general direction they wanted to travel.
"What a stroke of luck," Don crowed happily.
"Indeed," Smith said morosely. "For you perhaps, but not for me. I had to do all the work thus far!"
Don looked like he was preparing to challenge the statement, but thought better of it. He'd gotten his enjoyment out of forcing some hard labor out of Smith, and was ready to simply reach their final destination.
The group trudged through brush and clearing, more brush and a meadow, then more thick foliage. As John hacked through the barrier into another clearing, the rest of his family and crew surged up behind him, literally pushing him into the sunshine…and face to face with an ugly dogfaced visage. The creature was furred, taller than John, though not as thickly muscled, and sported a crest of brightly colored bristles atop a somewhat pointed skull. The startled expression, if that wide-eyed expression actually was shock, caused the bristles to quiver wildly.
Human and alien stood stock still, facing each other for better than thirty seconds. With a covert gesture of one hand, John signaled his crew not to move. The decorations attached to the bristles and the scanty garment around furred loins told him that the creatures were, at the very least, marginally intelligent, and he didn't want to provoke some aggressive act until he had to time to measure up the opponent a little better.
As it turned out, the creature wasn't willing to take them all on. Instead, it whirled, and with a distinctly masculine sounding shout, barreled across the narrow meadow.
"This is not encouraging," Smith whispered hoarsely into West's ear.
"Smith, if I didn't dislike you so much, I'd actually agree with you." He grabbed John's sleeve and tugged backward on it.
John lithely whirled around and began to shepherd the group back the way they had come. Silently, he sent a prayer skyward that their visitor would leave well enough alone and not come in pursuit.
His prayers, unfortunately, went unanswered, or perhaps the answer itself was 'no'. In either case, they hadn't gone more than a quarter of a mile, when the brush rustled around them, and sharp, ebony spear points, followed by furry bodies, surrounded them.
"Figures," Smith muttered irritably. "If there's life anywhere in the proximity of where we land, it is inevitably going to hunt us down, takes us prisoner, and do nasty things to our bodies for the sheer joy of it!"
Don looked at the sharp ebony tips aimed their way, and wondered if Smith's dire predictions were about to come true. To keep the others from panicking, he calmly retorted, "Ever the optimist, eh Smith?"
As if to prove the doctor right, a spear came up to throat level and hovered within an inch of West's skin. Another one angled angrily into the hollow just below Smith's ear, as if preparing to cut him ear to ear. He could hear the doctor gulp audibly.
Wisely, Smith kept any further comments to himself.
One of the creatures snatched their machetes from them and handed the long thick blades to another scowling alien beside him. Then, in a lightning quick gesture, it snatched John's ever-present pistol from the holster, before bolting back out of reach.
"I wouldn't pull that trigger if I were you," John said pointedly as one long-fingered hand got too close to that part of the weapon. He knew the creature didn't understand a word of what he said, but hoped the subtle warning tone in his voice would cause some hesitation.
The alien's coarse haired eyebrows collided into each other, as he pierced Robinson with a fierce glare, but its finger slid away from the trigger. Instead it tossed the weapon to the same being holding the machetes.
With easily understood gestures, the aliens let the humans know what was required of them next. That was simply to turn around and start marching.