Protection

[Jameson Bardolph 0]

Whiskey had never had a younger brother.

 

He had Magnet, but she was neither a brother nor younger -- she was two years older than him and though she sure sometimes liked to act like a kid (God knew he'd gotten her out of a few scrapes in their time), she had never been one to him; she still knew how to thump him hard enough to make him pay attention when the fit struck. He'd never looked down at her, and he'd sure as hell never had to take care of her.

 

Which, he reflected, was probably a good thing. If all kids had a vise grip on them like Gunner Robinson had, he'd have died from a lack of oxygen to the brain a long time ago. But he couldn't help a certain protective feeling over the kid who was now holding onto him. That was what he did, after all, or what he was supposed to do. Protect. Not that he'd done a very good job of it so far on this ship, whatever it was. He had no idea where the doctor or Captain Kwai had gone while he was unconscious. All he had was the kid, in all his potentially-already-tortured glory, and Whiskey did not intend to let him out of his sight again.

 

Not to mention the fact that coming back without his chief's son would give Commander Robinson yet another reason to have it in for him, but surprisingly, this didn't weigh too heavily in his estimation of the situation. He honestly had no quarrel with Will Robinson, and honestly liked his wife -- yes, in that way, of course, he couldn't help it, it was his nature to look for it, but she also had the respect for the ship she cared for that brought out the sort of legitimate liking which was harder to earn from him. And he had no wish to come back to either of them and say that he had allowed their son to be any further harmed by these...people.

 

The poor kid was probably terrified and Whiskey didn't blame him; neither of them had the faintest idea what was going on. So far the furthest they'd gotten was discovering that the white salty glop was actually more than palatable, a fact Whiskey had not glommed onto until after Gunner had eaten most of it, leaving Whiskey himself with the bowl of live bugs. This had proved a moot point however, as Whiskey hadn't had a free hand to eat them since Gunner had decided that he was the closest thing to the mother he kept asking for and had latched himself around Whiskey's neck like a lamprey.

 

"You're doing me a favor, kid," he mumbled in Gunner's ear as the little boy huddled his face against Whiskey's shoulder. "Keeping me away from that nasty stuff."

 

If Gunner heard him or cared, he didn't show it. Whiskey wondered if the glop was working some evil change inside the kid, if he ought to do one of those medico things like burp him or induce vomiting or something like that.

 

He sighed. He was rambling now; he'd stopped making sense even to himself. Blast it, he was hungry, and the fact that the bugs were starting to almost look appetizing worried him a little. "Don't suppose you could provide something else, while you're at it?" he said, ostensibly to Gunner but more to the situation in general. "A nice bowl of oatmeal, maybe? Ham sandwich? Enchilada? Hasperat? Hell, I'd take gagh with a slug steak chaser. At least I know for sure that's meant to be ate!"

 

His voice had risen in pitch and he collared it now as Gunner gave a whimper at the noise. "Sorry, kid...shhh...it's ok..."

 

Of course, it wasn't ok. It was more or less the opposite. When Whiskey'd been a kid, he'd loved his mother and father for always talking straight to him, telling him how it was; when a job went south they told him why and what was gonna be done about it. Part of him now said that he should talk straight to Gunner, even if the kid couldn't understand it all -- maybe that'd help them both get a handle on the situation.

 

But he couldn't. He had to protect him from whatever was going on, as far and as long as he could. That was, after all, what he was here for.

 

"It's gonna be ok..." he said after a minute, putting a little more solidity into his voice. Well, I don't know if that's true either. But it's a little less of a lie.