Episode Eight:

Will’s leg was a little stiff, but it was the pain in his back that dwarfed any discomfort he felt anywhere else. He reached into his gear pack and pulled out a small case. Opening it up, he removed one of the sonic injectors and gave himself his prescribed dosage of BET. The drug was both potent and fast-working. Almost immediately, his back muscles relaxed as the anti-inflammatory agents and painkillers entered his bloodstream.

He’d barely gotten four hours of sleep - - an hour at a time. He’d kept up his search for J.D. through most of the night with no luck, and actually found himself hoping an alien search party had found the boy - - at least that way he’d be alive. But he’d heard no such news while monitoring their radio communications.

Of course the aliens had not located their own missing search party either, and had decided to call off the search when it became dark. Radio transmissions were few and far between during the night. Mainly guards reporting in and casual conversation now and then between the night shift to while away the dead hours of graveyard duty.

Now that it was becoming light, things were beginning to stir. Squad leaders were reporting in and receiving instructions.

"What about the missing boy?" asked one leader. "Any word? Are we still in a search mode?"

"Officially, yes," replied another voice. "Until we find any hard evidence. I don’t know how much effort is going to go into locating a dead body, though. I’m frankly more interested in finding out what our missing unit’s been up to."

"Knowing that group? Could be just about anything," said the squad leader. "Hope the captain doesn’t come down too hard on them when they finally show up. So, you really think the kid’s dead?"

"There’s no way he could’ve survived outside this long. You know their bodies don’t have the immunity to the atmosphere."

"Do you suppose he could have somehow made it back to their own wrecked spaceship?" asked the squad leader.

"I doubt it, given the distance," answered the other. "But, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. Why don’t you take your squad out that way sometime this morning once you get underway."

"No problem," replied the squad leader. "I’ll radio you when we’re set to go."

"Shit!" muttered Will, forgetting he still had the alien communications helmet on.

"Who’s that?" responded the voice over the radio. "Is that you, Unit Four? Over."

* * * * * * * *

"You do not have command override authority in my programming," asserted the Robot.

"Oh, come on, Robot," pleaded J.D. "You know I’m right. We’ve got to warn Uncle Will and Drykr. If they get into the aliens’ base and find my family, the fake me will wreck everything!"

"I have been ordered by Will Robinson to remain here," replied the Robot. "And it is far too dangerous for you to be out there."

"You mean you’d go by yourself and leave me here - - all alone?" asked J.D. slyly. "With no one but sleepy Zeek as a babysitter? What if the aliens came back?"

"I did not say I was going anywhere," responded the Robot.

"I order you to take me with you to warn Uncle Will!" commanded the boy.

"Once again, I must remind you that you do not have command authority in my programming," replied the Robot.

Actually, the Robot’s programming had been modified a long time ago to not accept any commands whatsoever from J.D. West. It was part of Judy and Maureen’s concerned efforts to "child-proof" as much of the Jupiter 2 and its equipment as possible when J.D. was very young. While this feature was probably no longer necessary, the programming was still a directive to the mechanical man.

J.D. decided to take another approach and appeal to the Robot’s logic sub-routine.

"Okay then, what about your primary programming directive?" asked the lad. "My dad says it’s to protect and serve the crew of the Jupiter 2."

"Your father is correct," replied the Robot.

"Well, doesn’t that kind of override any orders Uncle Will gave you then?" questioned J.D.

"If the crew were to be in immediate and life-threatening danger, the answer to your hypothetical question would be affirmative," responded the Robot.

"Well, it’s not hypothetical," replied J.D. "They are in danger and only Uncle Will and Drykr can save them. But if we don’t warn them about these shape-shifting aliens, they’re gonna get captured too."

"That is a hypothesis," replied the Robot. "I do not have sufficient data to arrive at the same conclusion."

"Look, we can’t raise them on the radio," continued J.D. "We’ve been trying for over an hour with no luck. You’re supposed to be our friend. Why won’t you help?"

The boy’s words cut like a sharp knife. Theoretically, the Robot agreed with J.D. However, he could neither disobey an order, nor ignore his programming directives without causing major damage to his computers. He searched his logic sub-routine and memory banks to come up with a solution to this dilemma, and located what might be a possible "loop-hole." It was a practice he had become very good at over the years.

"J.D. West, has any member of your family ever conveyed to you stories of the early days of the Jupiter expedition?" asked the Robot.

"Sure," answered J.D., slightly puzzled at the question. "What’s that got to do with anything?"

"It was merely a question," noted the Robot. "My computers were just processing some information and came across an old, inactive sub-routine that Dr. Smith had entered into my programming during that timeframe. In an effort to free up some additional space in my systems, I was attempting to delete this program and have accidentally activated it. It may take a few minutes to shut it back down and delete it."

J.D. knew the Robot never did anything "accidentally."

"What kind of sub-routine?" he asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing and sensing that the Robot was trying to tell him something.

"It is a voice recognition sub-routine that disabled verbal command authority to everyone except Dr. Smith," answered the Robot.

Now J.D. remembered Uncle Will telling him this story! Shortly after the Jupiter 2 left Earth, old Zeek had programmed the Robot to respond to his voice only. But Uncle Will found a way to trick the Robot by making his voice sound like Zeek’s.

J.D. couldn’t believe the Robot was actually being sneaky! He’d seen a few old "videos" with Zeek in them, but wasn’t sure if he could imitate his voice.

He cleared his throat and spoke deeply, "Raise your left claw, you bobble-headed baby!"

"I am still attempting to shut down the voice recognition program," commented the Robot. "It is a good thing I do not hear Dr. Smith’s voice."

"Rats!" muttered J.D. "Didn’t work."

He cleared his throat again, took a deep breath and tried to sound as pompous and snooty as he possible could, "Step fahwahrd, my mechanical friend!" he commanded.

The Robot moved toward J.D. and stopped.

"Eggsalahnt," continued J.D., verbally patting himself on the back.

"I should inform you that I have isolated the application and will have the voice recognition program deactivated and deleted from memory in approximately 15 seconds," stated the Robot.

"Whoa!" gasped J.D. "That’s too fast."

He switched back into his Dr. Smith voice, "Abort deletion of voice activation program, my dunder-headed doo-doo."

"Unable to comply," responded the Robot. "Program will now be deleted in 7.5 seconds."

J.D. had to think fast. What could he do?

"Alter your programming to accept commands from young J.D. West, my nimble-netted noogie," blurted out J.D. in the best Dr. Smith voice he could muster.

"Command accepted. Programming altered," replied the Robot. "Voice recognition program now disabled and deleted from memory."

* * * * * * * *

Will made the tough decision to forge ahead toward the alien complex. It was one of the more gut-wrenching decisions he had ever had to make, and he wasn’t feeling particularly proud of it. He’d been searching most of the morning and had covered miles of alien terrain. His scanner was picking up nothing. He prayed that J.D. had either found a way to survive or had somehow made it back to the Jupiter 2, even though he knew both scenarios were highly unlikely, and it sickened him to think of the alternative.

He did know for certain his young nephew had not been found, from the radio transmissions he was monitoring. The search party that had intended to check the crash site of the Jupiter 2 had been detained and sent to search for the missing aliens instead. They would swing by the crash site on their way back to base. Several times during the day, Will had tried unsuccessfully to contact the Robot with his own radio, to warn him of the impending visit by the aliens. He knew the ship’s radar and sensors would not detect the aliens because of the uniforms’ built-in stealth devices.

His only hope was that the Jupiter 2’s stealth detection system would activate and alert the Robot of approaching anti-radar and reverse-sensor patterns. Once detected, the coordinates of these anomalous patterns could be transferred to the radio telescope, enabling the Robot to actually see the approaching search party and handle the situation accordingly. Unfortunately, the stealth detection unit was one of those "questionable" systems of alien technology that seemed to work only about 50% of the time.

He couldn’t worry about that now, though. He had to get into the base somehow and do something to save the rest of his family. He figured the alien uniform was enough of a foolproof disguise to at least get him inside the alien complex. But a small, nagging voice in the back of his head kept reminding him that the word "fool" was an integral part of the term "foolproof."

The geography was slightly different in this sector. It was still rocky and desert-like, but there was an abundance of trees, shrubs and cactus-like vegetation that, in conjunction with the large rock formations, severely hindered the distance he was able to see ahead, beside and behind himself.

Will paused instinctively. Something - - someone was approaching. He looked at the scanning unit in his hand. It was operating, but registered nothing.

An alien search party, he thought to himself. He had no idea how many of them were approaching, so he ruled out an attack or ambush. One missing search party might be understandable. Two would send up red flags.

Thinking quickly, he decided what to do. First, he took apart and concealed the Atomizer, along with the rest of his own equipment in the bottom of his uniform’s gear pack. He next removed his helmet. Locating the radio communications module inside, he grabbed a rock and smashed it. He then returned the helmet over his head and locked it down to the uniform.

Selecting a rocky gully, he climbed down to the bottom, laid down and feigned unconsciousness, positioning himself as if he had fallen down the embankment from above.

A moment later, a six-alien search party rounded a nearby rock formation.

"Look!" shouted one of the men, spotting Will’s motionless form in the gully. "I think we’ve found one of them!"

Two of the aliens climbed down and went to Will’s side. Another two remained at the top, while the final two continued to scan the area searching for others in the lost party.

"Is he alive?" questioned the squad leader.

"Yes sir," answered one of the men, who was scanning Will with what he assumed to be a medical scanner. "But he’s sustained minor injuries to the right leg and 4^th vertebrae. According to his uniform I.D., it’s Thrstyn. He’s one of the missing ones."

Will never dreamed the injuries he sustained on the Jupiter 2 would be a godsend. It’s funny how things work out, he thought.

Before these aliens got any funny ideas about removing his helmet, Will decided to "rouse" himself.

"Hey," he said. "Nice of you guys to show up. What took you so long?"

"He’s conscious, sir," said one of the men to the squad leader.

"Can you stand, or do you need help?" asked the alien. "The name’s Prather. I don’t think we’ve ever met before. I just arrived yesterday."

"If you could just help me get to my feet, I think I’ll be okay," answered Will. "I’m Thrstyn, but then, I guess you already figured that out."

Prather and the other alien helped Will to his feet and assisted his climb out of the gully. Will knew he was going to have to do some fast-talking and come up with a hell of a convincing story, but he found himself completely focused now and actually enjoying the challenge and adrenaline rush.

* * * * * * * *

Drykr found himself thoroughly disgusted and totally disoriented. These caverns were proving to be a bigger challenge than he had ever imagined. Could these maps possibly be any more confusing, he thought.

Certain that he had passed the same spot at least twice in the past 10 minutes, he stopped and again pulled out the maps to study.

Suddenly the radio communicator in his helmet came to life. There were excited reports that a member of the missing search party had been located. He had sustained some minor injuries, but was alive. There was still no word on what had happened to the remaining search team members. They said they would update as soon as they could debrief the one they found.

Drykr silently shook his head, knowing the true identity of the missing search team member they had just found.

I certainly hope he knows what he’s doing, Drykr thought.

* * * * * * * *

"Okay, now that I’m officially in your programming, let’s do some serious talking about what we’re going to do," said J.D. to the Robot.

"Be advised, J.D. West," replied the Robot. "Your interactive command ability may now be activated in my programming, however - - "

The Robot broke off mid-sentence as they were suddenly alerted by the stealth detection system. Already on the upper deck, the Robot made his way over to check out the alarm, followed closely by J.D. The system had picked up several anomalous energy readings.

"What is it?" asked J.D.

"This system has detected the presence of actively random and abnormal particle fluctuations or energy signatures," replied the Robot.

"Can you tell what’s causing them?" questioned J.D.

"Negative," responded the Robot. "Radar and external sensors are not registering any activity or disturbances."

"I bet if we could get a fix on the coordinates, we could see what it is on the radio telescope," suggested J.D.

"That is an excellent hypothesis," replied the Robot. J.D. beamed at the compliment and headed over to the radio telescope.

"I have successfully isolated geographic coordinates," continued the Robot. "Transference of these coordinates to radio telescope has now taken place."

J.D. switched on the radio telescope and adjusted the frequency to the coordinates provided by the Robot. The video screen was a mass of "snow" and interference. J.D. adjusted the tuning controls and tried to filter out some of the interference. The picture began to clear a little.

"I’m getting a picture, but no sound," commented the boy as the Robot came over and stood next to him.

The picture was still not totally clear due to interference, but J.D. and the Robot could make out some movement.

"That’s them!" J.D. said pointing to a moving figure on the screen. "It’s the aliens that grabbed us. I can tell even though the picture’s fuzzy."

"My visual sensors are able to enhance the clarity slightly," commented the Robot. "I visually detect five aliens on screen, however there might be more."

"Robot," said J.D. looking pensively at the screen "Am I right in thinking that all those fuzzy guys on the screen are jamming directly this way?"

"That would be a correct observation," answered the Robot. Processing the data from his visual scanners and combining it with the information from the stealth detection system, the Robot began performing light speed calculations. "According to my calculations," he continued, "I compute the aliens’ arrival to be in approximately 30 minutes."

"So, what are we gonna do, metal man?" asked J.D. "Hey, I know! Maybe you and me can take ‘em out! I’ll go get a couple lasers and . . ."

"That would not be advisable," interrupted the Robot. "From all indications, we appear to be heavily outnumbered."

"So what do we do?" asked J.D. "Just sit here and invite ‘em in?"

"That would not be advisable either," answered the Robot.

"Like I really meant it," J.D. replied sarcastically, then adding, "Sometimes you’re a real stiff, you know that, Robot?"

"And sometimes," replied the Robot in a slightly irritated tone, "you manifest yourself as a painful affliction in my posterior trunk sensors."

J.D. West’s mouth actually gaped open in amazement at the Robot’s comeback. Recovering, he chuckled and voiced his approval, "Good one, Robot!"

His facial expression changed, however as he asked in a serious tone, "Do you think they could get through the force field?"

"Insufficient data," responded the Robot. "However, given the fact that these aliens were able to breach our security systems while in flight, I would say the likelihood of such actions reoccurring on the ground would be of high probability."

"Great. So we gotta get outta here then, right?" asked J.D.

"The sooner the better," replied the mechanical man. "If the Jupiter 2’s landing struts were extended, I would suggest flight in the Space Pod. The stealth technology installed by your uncle would have possibly shielded us from the aliens’ sensors."

"What about the Chariot!" offered J.D. excitedly. "It’s got the same system in it! They won’t be able to see us on their scanners."

"Perhaps. But there are two factors which would discourage such action," answered the Robot. "First, the Chariot leaves visible tracks. We could be easily followed. Secondly, I am not designed to fit in the operator’s seat and the Chariot was not designed to be operated by a child."

"I’ll bet I could drive it!" protested J.D. defensively. "Wait a minute! I don’t have to. I just remembered -- we’ve already got ourselves a driver. You just have to go wake him up."

The Robot’s bubble popped up, "Dr. Smith?" he asked.

"Yeah! Good ol’ Zeek!" confirmed J.D.

* * * * * * * *

"Where’s the rest of your group and why the hell haven’t we heard from you?" demanded the alien squad leader who identified himself as Maaxll.

Will had only been physically in the presence of these men for about two minutes, but he already new much about them from the reports he’d received from the Robot and Drykr. He still wasn’t convinced of their Ghelan origin. Something just wasn’t right - - he couldn’t put his finger on just what though… yet. They were obviously an aggressive group, behaving more like a band of space smugglers or privateers. There were no distinguishing marks on Maaxll’s uniform, so Will decided to play a hunch and take the offensive.

Will grabbed the front of Maaxll’s uniform and yanked the man toward him so close that their darkly visored helmets were mere inches apart. The visors themselves covered most of the face, stopping right above the mouth so as not to impair speech.

"I don’t think I like the tone of your voice," snarled Will in a threatening tone. "In fact, I don’t ever remember you being capable of leading a search party, Maaxll. No wonder it took so long to get found!"

Will knew he was taking a big chance with this presumption, and braced himself for Maaxll’s response, saying a quick, silent prayer that Maaxll and the real Thrstyn had not been very well acquainted.

"Hey! Break it up you two," said Prather stepping in, intervening and physically separating the two men. "Come on Maaxll, cut the guy some slack!"

"You’re the new guy -- Prather, right?" asked Maaxll.

"Yeah," answered the alien. "So?"

"Well, you’re not starting out on the right foot, Prather," growled Maaxll. "Especially if you’re gettin’ chummy with the group this guy hangs with."

"Hey, I’m not ‘gettin’ chummy’ with anyone, ‘Squad Leader’ Maaxll," shot back Prather. "All I’m saying is, this man is injured, has been lost, and probably through some hell while he’s been out here. I may have just arrived, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that your designation as ‘search leader’ means squat. You’re just another one of us with a fritzing title for the day."

"You got a death wish, Prather?" growled Maaxll. "Get out of my face or your insubordination is gonna go into my field report."

"Hah!" laughed Prather. "You actually believe anyone ever reads those! You are pathetic!"

This was turning out even better than Will had hoped. The two men continued to argue until they suddenly fell quiet – all faceless helmets turning toward Will.

"What?" asked Will. "Why the sudden interest in me?"

"Why aren’t you answering him?" Maaxll asked Will. "You were asked a question by the unit commander!"

"Unit commander?" questioned Will. "What do you mean? Oh!" he pointed to the side of his helmet and tapped on the outside where the radio communicator was located. "It’s not working. Couldn’t hear what he was saying," he explained.

"Sir," relayed Maaxll over his communicator, "The radio communicator in his helmet is not functioning."

"Okay, that makes sense," replied the unit commander. "No wonder he couldn’t radio in for help. Just find out what happened and where the rest of his group is and report back in, okay? Oh, and one more thing, Maaxll. Switch to a secured channel for proprietary instructions."

The squad leader moved away from the group and flipped a small switch on the side of his helmet, which changed the transmission frequency to a private channel the other men in the unit would not be able to hear.

"Just a friendly word of advice Maaxll," warned the voice of the commander. "I’ve been monitoring your, shall we say, ‘discussion’ with that new man, Prather. I’d be very careful about crossing him if I were you."

"Oh? And why is that?" questioned Maaxll.

"Rumor has it around here he’s not exactly who we’ve been led to believe he is," replied the commander. "

* * * * * * * *

J.D. busied himself in the Chariot Bay preparing for their departure while the Robot went about bringing Dr. Smith out of his artificially-induced coma. The mechanical man had not yet gotten to this part of the ship with his repair efforts, and the bay hatch that opened to the outside appeared to have a short-circuit.

The boy had assisted in this type of repair work before and had a natural ability with electronics, so he had the mechanism functioning in no time. He then went over to the storage locker and gathered up provisions he figured they’d need - - blankets, dried food rations, bottled water and two laser weapons. The Robot instructed him, as a precaution, to hide the weapons in a compartment under one of the backseats so that Dr. Smith would not be aware of their presence.

The Robot had also prepared a supply of the atmospheric anti-toxin inhalers, which J.D. had already secured in the vehicle after taking a dose himself. He remembered only too well, the effects of breathing this planet’s poisonous air.

J.D. looked at his watch. What was keeping the Robot and Zeek, he wondered. Just as he thought this, the Robot entered the bay.

"You’re alone," observed J.D.

"That is correct," replied the mechanical man.

"Couldn’t you get Zeek to wake up?" asked the boy.

"Dr. Smith is conscious," answered the Robot. "However, he refuses to accompany us."

"I thought you told me he wasn’t bad anymore," said J.D.

"Correction. What I said was, the hostile alien mindwash was in a state of remission," replied the Robot. "That condition remains unchanged. However, something you must realize is that even when Dr. Smith is not bad, he is most certainly not good."

"That doesn’t make any sense," complained J.D. "Maybe I should go talk to him? I’m kind of anxious to meet him anyway."

"Very well," stated the Robot. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you."

J.D. followed the Robot to the lower deck of the Jupiter 2. As they entered the Med-dem compartment, he saw Dr. Smith lying on the exam table with his eyes shut.

"Hey! I thought you said you woke him up," J.D. said, turning to the Robot.

"Who is that disturbing my nap," mumbled Smith sleepily without opening his eyes. "Is that you, William?"

J.D. stood silently awestruck for a moment from hearing for the first time, actual words being spoken by this living, breathing, conscious legend that he’d heard so many conflicting stories about his entire life.

"Well? Who is it?" asked Smith again, opening his eyes and sitting up. His eyes met J.D.’s and he seemed to be as awestruck as the young boy was. The two of them just stared at each other in amazement.

"Good heavens," the doctor reeled slightly and put a hand up to his forehead to steady himself.

"Uh, hi there," said J.D. a little awkwardly. "I’m, um, J.D. West."

Smith just stared at the boy for another moment. Then, regaining his composure and wits snapped, "Well of course you are, young man! Whom else did you imagine I would believe you to be?"

"Well…, I don’t know sir," replied J.D. "It’s just that you’ve been asleep since before I was even born, so I didn’t think you’d know who I was."

"Bah!" replied Smith. "I may have been sleeping, but any nincompoop could tell who your parents are just by looking at you, J.P."

"It’s J.D.," corrected the boy. "Short for John Donald. It got too confusing when I was little, so they decided to use my initials."

"Hrmmph!," snorted Smith. "JP, JD, DJ - - what’s the difference? I’ve never been one to call people by their initials anyway! I simply don’t like it. I think… yes! I think I shall call you ‘Jay.’ Yes, ‘Jay!’ I like that much better."

"What makes you think you can change my name?" snapped J.D. "Besides, that’s really lame, because ‘J’ is an initial too."

"J-A-Y," spelled Smith. "It really has much more dignity. So, spare me the sarcasm, young man - - I can certainly see you’ve inherited your father’s ill-mannered temper. I only hope that your lovely mother’s delightful demeanor has had some positive influence."

J.D. started to protest, but the Robot cut him off.

"If I may interject," interrupted the Robot. "Time is of the essence. If we are to abandon ship before the arrival of the aliens, we must make haste. According to my calculations, they will arrive in approximately 15 minutes."

"Oh, stop your babbling, you clattering chatterbox!" demanded Smith. Turning to J.D., Smith put a hand on his shoulder and asked, "What is all of this nonsense he is spouting off about aliens approaching anyway? Why, if I had a dime for every time this apocryphal alarmist cried ‘wolf’ claiming an alien danger was approaching, I’d be the richest man in the galaxy!"

J.D. laughed. He kind of liked this guy. To clarify the Robot’s warning though, he quickly conveyed the events that led up to their current predicament.

"So you see, we’ve gotta get outta here fast," concluded the boy excitedly. "And you’re gonna have to drive us. I’ve got the Chariot’s all loaded and ready to go."

"I?" questioned Smith. "Drive the Chariot? That is preposterous! It has been years since I last operated that mechanized monstrosity. No, I simply won’t do it! Besides, young man, I seriously doubt that we are in immediate danger safely tucked away behind the defenses of the Jupiter 2."

"Didn’t you hear anything I just told you?" asked J.D. incredulously.

"My dear boy," stated Smith. "Mind your manners or you’ll lose your friends. You’ll do well not to question your elders. Now then, I am simply famished. Do you suppose you be so good as to prepare me a little snack?"

"Fine! Okay!" snapped J.D. "You just sit here then and let those aliens rip your guts out when they get here and find you! The Robot and I are leaving. I’ll figure out how to drive the Chariot myself - - come on Robot!"

J.D. turned and left the compartment, followed by the Robot.

"You sir, halt at once!" commanded Smith to the exiting Robot. "And just where do you think you are going?"

The Robot stopped, swiveled toward Smith and responded, "I am going to the Chariot Bay with J.D. West."

"You’ll do no such thing!" replied Smith. "I’m going to need you here to attend me. Once the boy sees you are staying, I’m certain he’ll change his mind as well."

"Dr. Smith," responded the Robot. "I would advise you reconsider your decision and accompany us. I cannot remain here with you. You do not know this, but my programming now contains a hierarchical protection directive of Jupiter 2 crew members. J.D. West is at the top of that hierarchy receiving top priority, while you, Dr. Smith, are at the bottom."

That said, the Robot turned and headed away.

"Zachary Smith has never been at the bottom of any list, you mendacious miscreant!" shouted Smith after the Robot as he continued his way to the Chariot Bay. "Come back here at once!"

A few minutes later, J.D. West sat in the driver’s seat of the Chariot. The Robot had secured himself onto his pedestal in the back, and they were ready to go. The outside hatch was open, ramp lowered and J.D. was attempting to inch the vehicle forward. His legs, however, were not quite long enough to reach the floor control pedals as he pulled on the hand-held mechanisms to steer and control speed, so he had to slouch down in the seat. The Chariot jerked forward and stalled. Starting it again, it wobbled toward the outer hatch, but suddenly pitched to the right, plowing into and knocking over a stack of boxes.

Just as J.D. reached for the key to re-start the stalled engine, there was a knocking on the window to his left. He turned and saw Dr. Smith standing next to him, outside of the vehicle. The good doctor had obviously thought twice about having his guts ripped out, the boy mused.

"My dear boy," said Smith coolly. "I can see I’ve got my work cut out for me. You know, I taught your uncle how to master this vehicle long before he was your age, and you’re even taller than he was back then."

"I didn’t think you knew my uncle ‘long before’ he was my age," replied J.D. sarcastically. "I’m only eleven."

"Really?" answered Smith in a bored sounding tone. "Well, never fear, Smith is here. I suggest you scoot yourself over into the next seat and allow me to take over now. I simply cannot allow you to undertake this endeavor all alone. Goodness knows ‘that-one’ sitting back there would be of no help at all," he said motioning to the Robot. "No, my conscience simply cannot allow it."

"Yeah right," grumbled J.D. "You’re probably just scared - - that’s why you changed your mind, isn’t it? My dad was right about you."

"Scared? Zachary Smith a coward?" puffed Smith. "Indeed! We shall see about that. Never let it be said that Dr. Zachary Smith shirked his duty! And as for your father’s opinion of me, I must inform you that, while I hold his moral character in the highest regard, he has misrepresented me in a spurious manner unsurpassed only by his inability to properly land this spaceship."

Dr. Smith opened the glass door, shooing J.D. over to the passenger side as he climbed in the driver’s seat and started up the vehicle. Just like riding a bicycle, he thought as he expertly guided the Chariot out of the Jupiter 2. As they headed away from the ship, J.D. activated the vehicle’s stealth shielding and handed Smith one of the anti-toxin inhalers, explaining to him about the planet’s poisonous atmosphere.

"Oh, and just one more thing," added J.D. with a sly grin. "Since you get to call me ‘Jay,’ I think I should be able to call you ‘Zeek.’ What do you say? It’s what I’ve called you ever since I can remember."

Smith kept his eyes looking forward at the terrain in front of him, suppressed a smile and sternly chastised the lad, "Zeek, indeed! Young man, you shall call me Dr. Smith!"