CHAPTER 3
John estimated they walked for nearly two miles along a narrow, winding trail nearly hidden by thick, blue and tan hued foliage.
A faint scent of smoke, and badly burned meat, assailed their nostrils as they emerged into a small heavily trampled meadow. Small lean-tos had been erected, and covered with a layer of broad leaves. Aside from their escort of five aliens, three more of the lean beings strolled around the camp, packing up their meager belongings. A fourth creature was relieving himself by a nearby tree and it was embarrassingly obvious that their captors were male.
In a huddle off by the perimeter, another group of the creatures, also male, were cringing in a tight group, and gazing fearfully at the free creatures. Their wrists were bound tightly by some sort of woven band, and each male was also bound to another, so that all were joined.
John and West scanned the clearing in hopes of finding a means of escape but it was no use. Their captors weren't about to let their guard down. In fact, within several minutes, the Robinsons, West, and Smith were similarly bound and joined together. Their packs were searched, amidst much chattering and gesticulating, but the equipment was, surprisingly, left inside the bags unmolested.
With the butts of several spears, the captors whacked the legs and backs of their fellow beings until the cowering group managed to struggle to their long toed feet. As they were guided toward a more distant break in the foliage, Smith realized they were not only captives but also heading in the wrong direction from the safety of the Jupiter 2. Instinct made him try to back away from the group but a sharp spear point entering his gluteus maximus quickly convinced him to remain with the group.
Prisoners and guards trudged through the forest for what seemed like hours. The guards whacked or pricked slackers unmercifully. The humans avoided most of the abuse. Seeing the surreptitious glances the aliens were giving them, he assumed that the guards weren't taking any chances with riling the newcomers. The few times he tried to talk to Maureen, who walked behind him, he got warning stabs with the spears but otherwise they left him alone.
Just when the humans felt as if they couldn't go on without a break, the most aggressive of the males called for a halt. Water was passed around but no food. At the first opportunity, John slipped one hand into his pack, and pulled out a small stone.
West recognized it as the translation device used on the Gaelorian Gem. He took it and covertly slipped it into his ear canal. Soon, six additional stones were produced, and covertly slipped into human ears.
"Always planning ahead, huh John?" West quietly quipped, though his voice held admiration because it wasn't often that he could catch Robinson unprepared for anything.
"You bet," John agreed in a voice barely above a whisper. "After all the lifeforms we've met around this galaxy, I figured these might come in handy, even on a supposedly 'uncivilized' planet. Now I'm glad I brought them along. They may not be able to understand us, but hopefully we can understand them."
He was startled by a loud, gruff bark of noise, and simultaneously there was a sharp command. "Shut up!"
The alien guard backed away to talk to his cohorts for a few more minutes, then took a swig of water from a jug, and crudely stuffed a wad of greasy stuff that looked like whale blubber into his sharp toothed mouth. A long black tongue licked the slimy substance that dribbled down his chin.
And then the whole procession started forward again.
John watched the other prisoners as best as he was able, sizing them up, and judging them too downtrodden to start any sort of rebellion. Equally obvious, the guards kept their captives weak from hunger and thirst.
Still, they plunged on at a nearly unmerciful pace. Then John noticed it, a slight decline in the terrain, as if they were heading downhill. Unfortunately the reprieve was too little, too late. Little Will, struggling to keep up with longer legged adults fell into a pile of brush, gasping for breath. Maureen rushed to his side, pulling the rest of them with her since they were still bound together. Smith moaned, and his ragged breath sounded unnaturally loud in the narrow confines of the trail.
"Got to rest," he panted, and flopped down into a sitting position on the ground. Unfortunately, his sudden move dragged Judy down with him.
Losing her balance completely, she landed hard on top of Smith, forcing him over backward so that his head banged against the hard, packed earth. Awash with intense embarrassment, she realized his face was covered by her upper body. Judy expected an immediate attempt on his part to get her off him, but that didn't happen. Red faced, she gave him a scathing look which was wasted since he couldn't see it, then quickly pulled herself free of the compromising position. She moved away so quickly that Smith didn't have the time to wipe the subtle smile from his lips. "Time to call it quits in chess," she told herself, "before the wagers get out of hand."
As though he heard her unspoken thoughts, he gave her a disappointed frown. Not that she needed to worry. Smith would have admitted, at least to himself, to being a jerk in certain circumstances, but moving in on another man's girlfriend had always been morally taboo as far as he was concerned. Ruefully, he let her get up, and, after catching the look on Don's dark visage, was immediately glad of his decision.
Suddenly, the butt of a spear whacked solidly into Smith's ribs. The doctor yelped in surprise, not to mention pain, and hastily withdrew from the next jab. Grabbing his aching side with one hand, he pivoted toward his adversary and immediately began to back away. John's hand planted itself firmly on his back, then grabbed a fist-full of his tunic and rudely jerked him aside. Without letting go of Smith, who wisely stifled a nasty comment, John interposed himself between the alien and his crew member, but made no threatening gestures.
The creature's crest bobbed like a furious multi-legged spider, and he drew back lips to reveal sharp, decaying teeth. Then, as if this threat was all that was necessary, it made a dismissive gesture and turned away from the humans.
The entire group plodded onward for most of that day, then camp was once more set up in a small glade. The captive aliens, still bound together, were taken to a large tree and secured there. The human prisoners were secured to a companion tree near them.
After the guards had eaten, water was passed around. "Keep your canteens full for now," John advised as he passed the ladle to Maureen, who took a sip and passed it on to Judy. The ladle made the full circle, with Smith polishing off the two mouthfuls that were left.
"Still thirsty," he muttered irritably, but made no effort to tap his canteen for the much desired water. "What if they feed us, Professor? Are we to ignore the food?"
John nodded. "Until we test it, we have no idea if it will make us sick."
"And how do you propose we perform the necessary tests when our equipment is well out of reach?"
Ignoring the sarcasm in Smith's tone, Robinson placidly advised his crew, "Since they haven't taken the packs from us, the food Maureen and Judy brought should still be okay. We can have some of that now, but eat sparingly because we may have a bit of a wait before we can sneak out of here tonight, and we'll need food for the return trip."
"You have a plan?" West leaned close to whisper the question.
"Nothing more than hoping they don't have many guards tonight. If we're lucky, they will get lazy and doze off. That will be the time to make a break for it. It also means that we'll need to take turns staying awake and watchful. Maureen and the children have had a hard day. I suggest we let them recoup their strength…don't even say it Smith, and since your name has just come up, you'll take the last watch, because I know you're likely to fall asleep as well. If we can't make a break by the time you take over, it will probably be too late anyway."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Professor," Smith commented in his most insulted tone of voice.
"Get off your high horse, Smith, you and I both know he's right," replied Don.
Smith responded with a faint 'harrumph' but made no further comment to West. Instead, he reached a hand toward Maureen. "Food, if you please, Madam. I am simply famished after all this trekking across the countryside."
Maureen gazed once at her husband, and saw John's faint nod of approval. Slowly, so as not to arouse the suspicions of their captors, she slid out enough sandwiches to give them all one.
The Jupiter 2 crew ate their dinner in silence, while their captives, snarling and loudly chomping away, finished their own meal. It wasn't until after the guards finished their repast, which Smith said smelled worse than burning hair, that the captives and humans were offered the left-overs. The captives devoured it as though they hadn't eaten in days, which John had quickly surmised was probably the case.
When the guards brought some over to them, John did not refuse it. He took the few small blackened chunks of meat, clearly inedible by human standards, and several fruits that looked like tiny pineapples, and hurt nearly as much when he tried to get a better look at what was inside. As he opened it, tiny white insects, swarming around the pulp, started to scamper over John's hand. Instinctively, Robinson dropped the fruit, and swatted the insects off his skin. With a grimace of disgust, he tossed all of the fruit into the group of captives, who dove greedily onto the food.
"That was a truly nauseating experience," Smith murmured.
"Boy, you said it," Will agreed with great conviction.
While the captives fought amongst themselves, Robinson tossed the meat their way as well.
Within a hour, everyone was settling in for the evening. All the captives were quickly unconscious due to their extreme exhaustion and profound hunger. Not long after that, sleep captured the Jupiter 2 members, except for John who had lay down like everyone else but was maintaining surveillance on their captors.
The guards also prepared to bed down for the evening, except that instead of placing only one guard over the captives, they positioned one around each perimeter. The last one not only watched the forest but the prisoners as well. As John watched patiently, one hour passed, then two, and still the guard appeared alert. In fact, by the time Don's turn came, it was very late, and the guard was still wary and wide awake.
To add insult to injury, the guards swapped places not long after Don's watch began, so that by the time Smith's turn came, he knew that there would be no escape for them that night.
Cautiously, pretending to have just awaken for the benefit of the guard, he nudged John, and filled him in on the developments. With a mild expletive that was barely audible, he gestured for Don to sleep. Groaning softly, as much in disgust as stiffness, Don rolled over, pillowed his head on his arm, and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, the guard's shouting roused them from the stuporous sleep of the stressed-out to dazed wakefulness.
"No one woke me! I swear it!" Smith cried in alarm when he realized it was dawn.
"Smith! Calm down!" West hissed. "I let you sleep. They were watching us too carefully to try getting away."
Smith closed his eyes and heaved a forceful sigh. "That's a relief! I mean, I'm…uh…I mean, I am relieved that our continued captivity is not my fault. I'm glad I'm not to be blamed for this."
"Will wonders never cease," Don said with a smirk. "A blameless Zachary Smith is a fluke of nature if ever there was one!"
"You! Shut up!" came a shout from the nearest guard. "On your feet, all of you. It is time to move out."
Guards and captives struggled to their feet, groaning and twisting out the kinks in stiff muscles. One guard came by and passed around another ladle of water. Once they were finished, everyone resumed their march through the jungle.
And march they did. Hard and fast for several hours. By midmorning they had already covered several additional miles. The scent of jungle flora was slowly being corrupted by the tang of sea air. Soon, the air was thoroughly permeated by the swiftly blowing, pungent scent of ocean breezes.
They broke out of the tree line and onto clean, opal hued beaches. Before them, not more than three hundred yards away was a collection of crude, weather-beaten buildings. A small inhabited village to be more exact.
A short distance from the village, a dilapidated and exceedingly ancient wharf jutted out from the beach. At the end of this wobbly and warped structure stood what could easily have passed for a wide bottomed Viking sailing vessel, the tall mast, placement of the square sail and rigging similar to earth ships. A long row of oars ran from stem to stern along the port side for most of the length of the ship. Several shaggy heads could already be seen seated before the oars, bunched into a small group.
Robinson and West slowed down but the gathering of filthy gaunt bodies behind them pushed them along as if they were mere gnats to be brushed aside. Growls and snarls of pain rose up like a writhing cobra when a whip started to crack on unprotected backs from somewhere behind the group. Smith moaned with dawning realization that they were being herded toward the ship. He gave a futile and almost painful tug on the ropes binding his wrists. The knots only tightened further.