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Penny Robinson opened her eyes slowly. Although the small chamber was dimly lit, she could make out a silhouetted figure bent over and looking down at her where she lay on the floor. “Who…?” she started to ask, as her eyes had not yet properly focused. But then she heard the voice – (is that what you’d call it?) That unmistakable “clucking” sound that Will had suggested they use to phonetically name its species almost a year ago when they found her. “Bloop…” “Oh, Debbie,” sighed Penny dramatically. “What am I going to do with you? Honestly, I…oow!” Penny winced as she started to sit up. The back of her head ached, and she gently rubbed the throbbing bump that had taken form where she’d hit her head when she fell. “That’s right,” Penny spoke aloud to herself. “There was some kind of jolt, and I fell. I wonder if we ran into a meteor storm or something?” Standing, she took the small simian hand and scooped the bloop up under her arm like a small child, addressing the furry creature as if it understood what she was saying. “I know Dr. Smith frightened you,” Penny explained in a motherly tone. “But you really shouldn’t have run in here the way you did. I’m sure he didn’t mean it when he said he was going to speak to Mom and Dad about casting you adrift on a barren asteroid.” “Bloop,” bleeped the creature in a subdued, concise reply, staring back at the girl as if offering a viable explanation for its actions. “Well, I guess we’d better get back in there and see what’s happened,” Penny said reluctantly as she headed for the Space Pod’s interior hatch door that led into the docking bay adjacent to the flight deck of the Jupiter 2. “Maybe we can sneak in so nobody sees us. You know, we’re both liable to get in trouble if anyone finds out we were even in here.” As if in response, the Bloop placed both its smooth hands on Penny’s cheeks and patted her ever so slightly two times. Penny was certain this meant something, as Debbie had performed this identical action on other occasions in the past – usually when Penny was either upset or anxious. Penny turned the inside airlock latch and pushed open the heavy Pod door. The sight that greeted her, however, was not the brightly-lit control room of the Jupiter 2 – or even that of a stern parent, sibling or grandfather-like figure. The young girl could only breath in a sharp, short gasp, and stare in bewildered shock at the alien planet scape that lay before her. “Oh boy. We’re really gonna get it now…” * * * * * * * * * Two hours earlier…Dr. Smith was bored. Plain and simple. Bored. They’d been cooped up in this tin-plated cracker barrel of a spaceship for nearly two weeks, and Professor Robinson and that idiotic nincompoop West had no better idea where they were now than they did two weeks ago when they blasted off that infernal dust ball where they’d been marooned for almost a year. Of course, he’d shown them all, Smith thought with an air of retrospective smugness. He’d provided them all with the gold-plated life preserver they so desperately needed. Their ticket to Paradise. He had discovered the course back to Earth. He, in all of his self-sacrificing diligence (with a very minute assist by that clattering chatterbox), did what neither Robinson nor West could do to put an end to this galactic nightmare. But, of course now, even that brass ring of benevolence had been greedily snatched away from them when Robinson changed course at the last minute, sending the Jupiter 2 careening away from the blue skies of Earth, and plunging them blindly, once again, into the dark abyss of uncharted galaxies. Lost in space… again “Oh, the pain,” groaned the doctor aloud melodramatically. Smith, of course, selectively chose to suppress the small detail that the course change was an effort to save his own life and “rescue” him from clutches of The Girl From the Green Dimension. Men make plans… and the galactic gods of fate laugh, he thought disdainfully, knowing full well in his mind that, truth be told – he, Dr. Zachary Smith, was far more qualified to be a galactic god of fate than any other being or deity in the known universe. Smith was tired of sleeping, which for him was a rarity. Sleep seemed to be the only respite from the doldrums of space travel on board the Jupiter 2. But even that was wearing thin. His back ached and his feet twitched – which meant he needed to take action, and once again be the master of his domain, instead of relenting himself to be a hapless passenger along for the ride on a family outing. Dr. Smith was scheming now, and the mental energy and adrenaline were beginning to flow, filling him with a sense of purpose, and drawing the corners of his mouth upward into a sardonic smile. He was once again in his element, and immediately began to feel revitalized. “Food for thought,” he murmured aloud. “Yes, I do believe a small snack is in order. Perhaps the dear lady has been putting her culinary talents to good use, and I shall find a delightful morsel of respite in the galley to feed my mind. Something sweet, I do believe, is in order…” Smith rose from his cot and headed for the cabin door. As he slid open the accordion-like door, he was pleasantly surprised to see that no one was around. Good, he thought. All the easier to break into one of the computerized food compartment repositories in the galley to satisfy his increasing-by-the-moment sweet tooth. Smith was now certain he remembered hearing Maureen Robinson say something about making a chocolate cake earlier at breakfast. Or was it angel food? Oh, he hoped not. The coast was still clear as Smith nonchalantly strolled into the galley and filled his Alpha Control mug with coffee. That dear lady makes a wonderful cup of coffee, he thought as he poured the home-grown brew into his cup, its heavenly aroma rich and full. Renegade robots, galactic monsters, unsavoury aliens and cosmic catastrophes may come and go – but Mrs. Robinson’s coffee was one constant that could always be counted on – day in and day out. It was always there, fresh, hot and ready to serve. Smith’s eyes narrowed as he made a swift, but sly, visual sweep of the lower deck of the ship. Still no one in sight. It was now or never, he thought. He made his way over to a bank of brightly coloured flashing lights. Adjacent to this panel was a touch-sensitive keypad. He quickly and deftly entered a pillaged code and the refrigerator door unlocked Success! He’d already figured out what he’d do – slice the middle out of the cake, push the ends together and ice over the seams. Of course, he done this before, and he cake would be noticeably smaller, but no one could blame him this time. He wasn’t even supposed to know the access code to the galley’s refrigerator. Perhaps young William would even offer up a scientific conjecture on ‘The Cosmic Effects of Hyper-Space Travel on Flour-Based Baked Goods.’ He chuckled inwardly. Oh yes—he would just have to set the lad up for that one! As Smith reached for the door, he heard a slight noise. He instinctively froze, as he now felt the presence of someone – or something – else in the room watching him. Slowly, he began to turn, screening the movement of stealthily re-securing the refrigerator door with his elbow, and raising the mug to his lips as if merely partaking in an afternoon coffee break. No one was there. Nothing. His senses were tingling. I was not his imagination. Mental bells and whistles were clanging and blowing in the doctor’s mind. Someone was spying on him. “All right, you might as well show yourself,” Smith announced dryly. “I know someone is there. Is it you, William? Penny? Come now – now one understands better than I that the psychological effects of long-term space travel are difficult for the adolescent mind to deal with, but this type of game is not amusing. Perhaps a nice game of chess or Chinese Checkers would help...” “William?” Still nothing. Could the ‘psychological effects of long-term space travel’ be playing tricks on his usually sharp mind, he thought? Just as this unlikely idea struck him, the strange sound reoccurred. Smith’s senses reeled. If it was not one of the Robinson children, perhaps some abominable, grotesque alien life form had somehow made its way into the Jupiter 2 and secreted itself in the bowels of the ship, waiting for a victim to pounce upon and suck the life out of. It was obviously tired of waiting, he realized with alarm. It was surely now pursuing its prey. He was about to reach for the intercom microphone to alert the others of this dreadful alien peril, when he heard the sound again, and realized with sickening horror that it was coming from directly above him. He dropped the microphone and raised his eyes and head upward just in time to see the beast plummeting down toward him from the steel ceiling support. Dr. Smith let out a blood-curdling scream and fainted dead away. TO BE CONTINUED… |
