Title: Fly Boys
Rating: Given for some minor violence and gore
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Characters: Primarily Dr. Zachary Smith and Major Don West
Disclaimer: The folks who created LIS, pure geniuses that they are, are responsible for everything on the show. I'm just having fun with the characters. They were spending entirely too much time cooped up on the Jupiter 2 or stranded on barren planets and it was time to set them free for a little while.
Summary: Smith and Don end up going on a wild ride.
Author's Note: This is all Nel's fault….lol. It came about because she was telling me Smith's Colonel uniform bore pilot's wings and suddenly the images herein came to mind. Hope you like it.
There were few things Doctor Zachary Smith enjoyed more than a stiff mind-numbing drink, unless one counted the company of a beautiful woman, strolling through an opulent mansion, sitting in a truly classy car driven at ridiculous speeds, or running one's fingers through a lacquered box heaped with precious gems. In absence of those things, the drink would certainly suffice.
Thin lips seemingly kissed the rim of the etched crystal goblet, a common commodity on this planet, as he drew in a small sip of the burning fuschia liquid. He felt it instantly race from stomach to heart, then pulse its way into his head which swam slightly from the beverage's assault.
Good stuff, he said to himself. "Excellent vintage," he told the bartender with a half smile. Truth was he had no idea what he was talking about. He couldn't have even told anyone what fruit it came from, let alone the year it was made or the process used to produce it for that matter.
The bartender wiped up spills from the gleaming green stone of the bar surface. He, or Smith assumed he...she...it, was male, rolled 'his' full contingent of twelve glistening yellow eyes in the doctor's direction. For the imposing being that was an impressive effort since his species was geared toward viewing surroundings from three sides.
What he didn't inform this funny looking alien, the first "Terran human" he'd ever seen in this sector of the galaxy, was that the fuchsia brew wasn't a 'vintage' at all, as most species understood the term. This was not from fruit or flower, vine or tree. It was actually more visceral than that. Literally. A hundred scaly V'nai'a, reptilian in nature and appearance, gave up their precious lives donating their primary toxin purging organs to make drunken and happy patrons even more drunk and happy.
"Stupid beings," the bartender muttered under his breath. "Never once pondering what they were drinking or what it was doing to their own toxin-purging organs." Briefly he wondered what this pink, nearly hairless, bizarre looking being would think of "donating" his innards to create someone else's beverage.
As if aware of the thoughts of the bartender, Smith drew back slowly. Even that small motion made him feel a bit dizzy and he gripped the edge of the stone with surprisingly strong fingers to steady himself. "Potent," Smith murmured as he slowly shook his head to clear it. The motion was merely a waste of energy. Pleasant sensations drifted across his tongue as he took one final finishing sip and he slammed the glass down harder than he'd intended.
Several heads, or what passed for heads, in the immediate vicinity swiveled his way. Most of the aliens in the area were far from humanoid. Multiple legs, arms, eyes seemed thrown together in a mind boggling assortment of life. Some Smith recognized from the Galorean Gem, the rug like creature that rippled as it moved, the jelly fish/octopus cross that reminded him of Ceph (a true friend if ever there was one), a furry serpent that moved like a Terran sidewinder, and the bipedal Bin'lat and their cousins who were, thankfully, not fighting at the moment.
Sprawled on nearby couches, the most common furniture because it could accommodate many species, were creatures like iridescent blue centipedes with huge serrated mandibles waving curious antennae in his direction. At least Smith hoped they were curious because the furious twitching was hard to decipher and he didn't want something that big and vicious looking pissed at him. A fair representation of the earthlike leafy sea-dragon gave him a wide berth and through some means indecipherable to him, ordered an amber bubbling liquid. Blunt muzzle plunged into the drink for a few seconds and Smith caught sight of a needle thin tongue darting back and forth in the beverage.
A few other drinks were served as he pondered whether or not to order another libation for himself. These new concoctions, hissed or glowed or frothed and one even whistled, a high pitched keening that bothered the doctor's ears. Something was passed almost beneath his nose. It was brown and viscous and spluttered like the sphincter in The Bog of Eternal Stench from the movie Labyrinth. Although one couldn't actually experience such a putrid smell while merely watching the movie, Smith imagined it smelled exactly like this. He felt his gorge rise and bile fill his throat. The drink vanished soon after and he heaved a sigh of relief as his nausea immediately resolved itself.
Smith waited a few seconds more, still undecided about tempting fate with another round, when a firm hand clamped painfully over his shoulder. The surprise had him gasping out loud although, surprisingly, he didn't shriek. Heck, he was feeling no pain and an equal absence of fear.
Glancing over his shoulder, a move that actually did make the room spin for a second, he caught sight of a familiar face. Groaning with more animosity than alarm, Smith muttered, "Major West, how lovely to find you here. Now, as you can see, I'm perfectly safe, so why don't you run along home like a good little boy."
West's brows knit together and he opened his mouth to say something nasty but then thought better of it. Smith's 'skin' was too tough to be swayed or affected by insults under the best of circumstances and the Major realized, given the goblet count in front of the man, that Smith would probably be impervious to bullying or orders...or threats for that matter. That left him one choice, physical persuasion.
Grasping a fistful of the doctor's black velour shirt, West tugged hard enough to get the doctor's attention. All he got for his effort was a twisted smile and a view of heavy lidded bloodshot blue eyes.
"Go away Major," Smith slurred. He opened his mouth to say more, but Don cut him off.
"Yeah yeah, I know...'You irk me'," West finished for him.
A tiny hint of a smile tipped up both corners of the doctor's mouth. "Actually, I was going to say, 'you bore me' but yours will do nicely." He pointed over his shoulder. "The exit is that way I believe."
"No can do, Smith," growled Don. A few appendages or were they heads, Don couldn't be sure, swiveled in their direction at the aggressive tone. Lowering his voice and tempering his tone, the Major explained, "The professor just finished refueling and I just completed restocking our supplies, no thanks to you I might add, so it's time to go." He put a little more emphasis, accompanied by an appropriate shove, on the last word.
Studying the hard, intense look in those brown eyes did the trick. Smith sighed loudly but turned from the bar on wobbly legs. With an obviously determined effort he regained his balance. But then he halted abruptly as a blue skinned but obviously female centaur wearing a glittering gold beaded belt around her torso parted the crowd. She wore absolutely nothing above the waist. Her extraordinarily amble bosom was just even with Smith's line of sight. With a lazy, vaguely drunken grin, the doctor studied this particular vision of loveliness for so long that the female got annoyed. One mulit-jointed, seven fingered hand flew through the air and predictably collided, quite intentionally, with Smith's face.
Smith released a short girlie gasp, did an impressive and comical 360, and only then did he stumble. Unfortunately, West's efforts to prevent just that failed miserably. In fact, it exacerbated the problem and as Smith veered sideways he inadvertently stomped on one black glistening tentacle.
The recipient of such unwanted attention blasted out an ear splitting squeal from hidden mouth-parts and released a horribly foul stench from equally hidden and unimaginable parts.
All around them, a cacophony of sounds arose in tandem with the tentacled being's siren cry and equally obnoxious stenches permeated the air.
"Time to go, Smith," hollered West. He'd been in enough barroom brawls on earth to know this volatile situation could go from bad to downright ugly and the question was could they get out before it got that far.
Surprisingly, Smith didn't argue. Though the major didn't know it, Smith had gone to enough bars and saloons with his Air Force buddies to know a hazardous situation when he saw it. Tipsy or not, he knew it was time to make an expeditious exit. What he didn't anticipate was stepping on another tentacle on the way out. Sadly the tentacle belonged to the same creature, which appeared to be part anemone considering the number of appendages it bore. Another shrill cry and cloud of odoriferous gas filled the room.
A tentacle flashed out, intended for Smith's face. That much was obvious to Don. What surprised him was how quickly Smith ducked and dodged out of the way. However, he didn't have much time to ponder how a seemingly inebriated Doctor Smith could move that fast because the flying tentacle, displaying nasty barbed hooks inside its suckers, struck a creature that looked like a moving pine sapling. The sucker barbs gouged in and stuck. The small 'tree' whipped it's 'branches' in an attempt to dislodge the barbs, which not only pulled over the anemone but also smacked a frilled dragon reclining on a couch. The beast hissed, flashed half a dozen rows of razor sharp teeth, and pounced on the tree, its clawed hind legs digging huge gouges out of the 'bark'. Green ichor started to flow. The tree started to gyrate; bare branches flung outward, hitting several more species in close proximity provoking yet more hostility. Something else with crooked crystal for dentition sank said teeth into a furry serpent.
The poor victim of the attack flared out impossibly long dripping fangs and swiped at glass gullet who somehow avoided the attack. But the orange furred serpent wasn't easily deterred. It struck again, snagged a leathery flipper despite repeated attacks by glittering teeth. With a mighty bunching of reptilian muscles and a whipping of its head, it managed to fling its victim up and over the bar, right into the face of the gaping bartender. All of its eyes bugged out. That beast puffed itself up to twice its size, short wormy hairs all over its lumpish body standing straight out. Then it hurled the flippered alien back into the growing melee which was now blocking the exit.
It landed right at Smith and Don's feet. Smith's white rimmed eyes darted fearfully in all directions. "Trapped," he howled at West. "Doomed," he added if only because it was expected, but given the sight of the battles around him, he honestly felt that way.
"Not yet, we're not," Don assured him before giving his back a shove toward the door.
"Not that way you sadistic simpleton!" shrieked Smith. "They'll shred your sorry carcass long before you get half way there!"
West veered and waved a fist under Smith's nose. "They'll rip us up and spit us out if we stay here. Now move!" He snagged the sleeve of Smith's shirt then dragged the reluctant and protesting physician after him.
"Oh the pain," yowled Smith as something rigid and bulbous slammed into his back.
"Don't start, Smith!" Don yelled back, having heard that at least a thousand times before.
"Ow!" was the reply and that did get the Major turning around. Something like a plesiosaur was trying to clamp its jaws around Smith's head. It clearly hadn't succeeded although the doctor's scalp was bleeding profusely from somewhere above his receding hairline. A red river was trickling down the side of his face and throat. Somehow the doctor had managed to avoid getting decapitated but the creature was either very angry or very hungry (in that environment it was hard to tell which) and made another attempt.
To Don's complete astonishment, Smith grabbed branches of the already irate Tree creature, yanked it toward him and half-hauled half-swung it at the plesiosaur. Massive, powerful jaws bit down on nothing but wood. Only this wood had sensation of some sort. Branches slapped at the pointed snout and the saurian tried to release its hold. Don and Smith didn't bother to wait to see what ensued.
Both humans bolted through a crowd of combatants. Don's fists were like pistons, pummeling anything in his way. Smith was virtually plastered to his back in an attempt to avoid being beaten up himself. Grunting under the impacts, the Major was drawing closer and closer to the point of egress.
Another blue-skinned big breasted female alien towered over them, this one bigger than the first. Don stumbled in front of her and went down to one knee, Smith almost stepping on him, such was his surprise at the sudden movement. The blue female tried to get out of their way but as she backed up, she found Smith falling forward, right into the narrow area between her overly large, round breasts. She found herself with a chest full of human face and Smith found himself surrounded by unnaturally warm and firm mounds of flesh. Had it been any other day and any other time, preferably one with more leisure time and less violence occurring around them, he would have been blissfully happy with this predicament. As it was, he tried to gently extricate himself without giving offense but strongly suspected there was no way to do it. If he'd bet on it, he would have won big time. Before he got out of reach, she tried to slam him by boxing his ears with two enormous hands. Instead of backing up successfully, he tottered unsteadily, and fell into another blue skinned alien, male this time. The creature's four clawed limbs angrily stomped the floor and both fists balled. He was joined by others closer to the door. None of them looked pleased.
"Oh great," said a distressed Major West as he took note of the approaching danger. "Smith, when I say run, don't even bother to ask how fast. Got me?"
"Absolutely, Major. Lead the way." With that said, Smith once again immediately wedged himself as close to Don as he could without actually tripping the man in the process. Less than a second later, as the hostile forces gathered around them, Don made a break for the door. Smith howled as alien hands grabbed him. Don grabbed a pedestal table with both hands and swung it side to side with all his might at the torsos of the blue centaur-like beings. Releasing Smith, they backed up but they were not happy about it.
As Don and Smith dove into the street the combatants poured out after them, some ending up in a puddle of limbs and mouths and writhing non-human bodies. Others remained upright and carried on the fight under the glory of brilliant street lights. The 'centaurs' ignored them. They had one prey in mind. Their almond orange parrot eyes searched the crowd.
Smith gasped for breath but Don wouldn't let him rest. The doctor took a few staggering steps as his body poured more adrenalin into his veins. He'd seen the centaurs coming and knew precisely who they were after. His rubbery legs were taking more assured steps. Fear drove the booze out of his body far better than any full carafe of coffee ever could. He grew steady and as the aliens began advancing on them. His first tentative running steps became sure and sound.
Within seconds, Smith and West found themselves tearing through brightly lit avenues. Smith took the lead and Don tried arguing but for some reason Smith wouldn't listen to reason.
"The Jupiter 2 is THAT way, Smith!"
"Thank you so much for supplying directions Major but my internal GPS says go this way." He panted loudly and moaned a bit with the effort.
"But the Jupiter 2 is..." Don repeated.
"We'll never get there before those monolithic monstrosities catch us. And... I happen to know something...you don't. Actually... I happen to know a lot of things you don't but we...won't go into it now..." Despite the obvious breathing difficulties, he never slowed down.
"So where...?" Don jogged along beside the older man. It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't like trusting Smith in anything let alone this.
"Enough talk..." wheezed the doctor but he didn't slow. He took a quick look over his shoulder, noting that the enemy was rapidly gaining. Quickly, his head pivoted forward again. He almost tripped as a wave of dizziness overtook him. Blasted drink really was strong, he thought ruefully as he regained his balance. If I survive this, I swear I shall never partake of it again. At least not in a social setting, he amended with an unconscious smirk.
Not knowing where the doctor was heading, Don was keeping pace with him. When Smith veered to the left around a corner, the Major simply mimicked him. The angry noises of their pursuers were definitely closer. A few more steps and the short street opened up to what humans would have considered an airstrip. It was filled with short range aircraft of all types. Most of the vehicles, reportedly equipped with anti-gravity propulsion, weren't designed to do more than hover from ground level up to about thirty feet. Given that the city buildings frequently topped one hundred stories or more, the craft was clearly not going to give them a bird's eye view. However, Don was forced to admit it was a quick way to get to the interstellar space port. If luck continued, the vehicle would have its own version of a global positioning device and they could return to the Jupiter 2 quickly. The only problem, which he refused to voice, was that he had never flown such a vehicle. Oh sure, he knew he'd pick it up quickly, but he didn't relish smacking into buildings in the midst of training. Worse, Smith would never let him live it down. But there was nothing else to do but attempt it.
The blue skinned beings were caterwauling with anger and virtually breathing down human necks. Smith once more bolted left and began to climb into the cockpit of a vehicle that vaguely resembled a Terran fighter jet. After slipping a few times he managed to get himself situated. In the front seat.
"Hey!" Don yelled though he didn't waste time arguing until he plopped into the seat directly behind the doctor. "You're going to get us killed." In anger he slammed the back of the seat with the palm of his hand. What he hadn't stopped to ponder, at least not right away, was that this cockpit complete with a 'joystick' yoke seemed designed for humanoids of a similar head height and width.
"Major, do you mind!" Smith angrily snarled. There was the sound of toggles and switches clicking and melodic tones as computer consoles were activated plus the thump thump of fingers tapping on said consoles. Images and an alien language instantly flashed up on the lower half of the windshield.