Goddard walked into his office reading a pad of what had been reported. The Jupiter 2 was lost. Lost and unable to be reached after the last contact with Jupiter 1, Major West, indicating they were flying toward the sun. Even the last communication that they were going to go into hyper drive. And they were lost without hope. Goddard stopped in his tracks then looked up spotting a all too familiar man at his desk with his feet stacked on the counter and his arms folded.
"Colonel Smith."
Smith smiled sliding one boot after the other off the desk then it slid down and put a hand on the counter tapping on it.
"General Goddard." Smith greeted the general while he leaned into the chair acting casual. "How good to see you."
Goddard glared down the colonel.
"Why are you, of all people, in my office?" Goddard spoke in best but controlled voice with a glare that felt eerily familiar to Smith yet it carried a hint of irritation. "Wanted to repay the favor for me visiting Rambler?"
Smith propped himself up then got out of the chair and shook his head.
"To confess." Smith dusted his hands off.
Goddard frowned as his eyes tracked the colonel.
"Regarding your cynicism about the mission?"
Smith's eyes flashed open wide.
"Bah hum bug!" Smith walked past Goddard with a wave of his hand. "That mission was doomed at its bare concept, General."
"Can you please get out of my office." Goddard said, annoyed.
"Not until I confess." Smith turned toward the general.
"That you think this mission is doomed." Goddard sighed, exasperated, then rolled his eyes. "We got a lot of personnel who think that. We just lost the Jupiter 2."
"I am not leaving until you ask for a investigation until my finances." Smith said. "That I was wired riches by Global Sedition to perform sabotage for the mission. I murdered Captain Daniels. I sabotaged the rambler crane series Robot. I sent the ship astray toward the sun by overstaying my welcome. I awoke Major West. And the rest, you know." He was pacing back and forth relaying the information then paused in his tracks turning toward the General. "I am from the future."
"You are not being serious." Goddard turned toward Smith.
"I am serious as the planet dying," Smith replied.
"It's not dying!" Goddard said.
Smith had a long and weathered glare to Goddard.
"The crops are dying, floods have destroyed entire communities, smog has gotten difficult to live with!" He stood on the tips of his toes towering over the shorter man to his full height then set himself down and folded his arms. "And don't get me started on the buildings melting under the sun during the heatwaves."
Goddard stared Smith down quite shocked.
"Who . . . who. . ." Goddard said. "Who told you that?"
"Twitter, my dear General. And the likes of Reddit. You can't suppress the truth for long." he sat down into the chair across from the desk as Goddard paled. "I am not leaving until there is a arrest warrant."
"I got something better," Goddard said. "Throwing you out."
"Goddard, please." Smith folded his arms. "Look at this replica of the Jupiter 2 for one moment."
Goddard looked over.
"That's a concept-" Goddard watched as Smith's fingers landed on the item then held it in his hand and turned before his eyes into the outer saucer the ship had gone in. ". . . Artistic representation. . ." Smith leaned into the chair. "How long has this been happening?"
"Since I awoke; eight hours," Smith said. "Thought everything I had remembered was a dream."
"Until," Goddard said.
"I saw evidence of my own conduct on my comn." Smith replied.
"What happened?" Goddard said.
"The last I recall was fleeing from Major West into a bar then the next I know is that I am at my lab. I don't have a infection in my back, I have none at all, just the slight differences in my physiology. I . . ." Smith sighed. "I am not sure if this makes sense."
"None of it does," Goddard said. "Two eyes, one nose, one annoying mouth, and attentive ears."
"My body tells me that I have been through hell and came back and that I found a way to come back. So, I have." Smith held his hands up revealing the unusual and frightening horror that made Goddard freeze at the supernatural form. "And I assume it is to confess to my sin."
"You have nothing to lose then." Goddard said. "Except your life. If what you say is true."
"Right now, I am saving the life of Judith Robinson out there," he pointed toward the window that the general looked toward then back toward Smith. "I will be restricted to a cell by the professor. And the ship goes through a few things. . . ." Smith sighed looking down before lifting his head up and finishing in a single but desperate breath. "Because I sabotaged the Rambler Crane series mode. I am in two places at once because I am a time paradox and I plead with you not to authorize the Proteus!"
Baffled, Goddard stared at him. Alarm bells rang. How did he know?
"That's a scientific research vessel." Goddard then added. "And highly classified."
"Doesn't matter. Don't make it. For the love of God, don't!" Smith put it on the table and it remained its shape. "Make a rescue vessel. Please. The Raft. The Rescuer. The-anything will do! My life and the Robinsons hinge on this!"
Goddard's eyes shifted toward Smith.
"You are fully aware that by asking to be investigated by United Global Space Force, you may not come out of this clean." Goddard said. "And you will face death; humanely."
"I am fully aware," Smith looked toward the desk. "I can give you the coordinates of the planet. Only. . ."
"Only if what?" Goddard asked.
Smith walked toward the side then looked out the window in a moment of reflection scanning his memories. Somethings may change, but the key players will be there. And they will wait for them.
"Only if West's colleague Jeb is assigned to the mission. He needs a familiar face."
"Accepted." Goddard said. "What is the condition?"
Goddard waited for the other shoe to drop.
"And the condition is, I like to be confined to stasis after the trial." Smith squeezed his eyes close then opened them as he reconciled over the next comment. "Forever." he turned away from the window toward the general. "Since my counterpart can suffer the consequences to your liking. This galaxy cannot tolerate two Doctor Smith's running around. Now can it?"
"Only if you're found guilty." Goddard hated it. He was negotiating with a potential traitor, saboteur, and murder. And the thought of it made his blood boil but he kept himself professional about it. And the look in Smith's eyes told him that it was really happening. And he was telling the truth. It was insane. It was bizarre. And it was happening in his office. "And have evidence of wrong doing."
"That, too." Smith said. "I like it to be a punishment. You can inflict the full arm of the justice with. . . the saboteur."
"The saboteur, who?" Goddard asked.
Smith was quiet as he looked aside, looking down, tapping on his left temple then looked toward Goddard once the tapping stopped.
"Colonel Smith." Smith replied. "Please refer to me directly as Doctor Smith. It will clear much of the confusion for the classified material regarding the rescue of the Jupiter 2."
Goddard stared him down.
"And in the mean time, while we investigate you," Goddard said. "Where are you going?"
"A holding cell as soon as you put ME in under suspicion of sabotage." Smith said. "Right at Mission Control."
The trial was clear and precise. The courtroom was crowded with each testimony on every day the trial was running with eyewitnesses found regarding his behavior leading up to the final moments of the Jupiter 2. He refused to speak of the future of the Jupiter 2. He had little knowledge about it. Little to tell. Little to reveal other than what he had known and had been urged by his defense lawyer, Elice, not to testify on the stand as he was doomed. Doomed. Not quite doomed but the future him was doomed. The sounds of photographs being taken were loud and clear enough to stand out against the talking. Even the sound of the microphone getting high pitched when the prosecutor was questioning eyewitnesses.
Mission Control's Colonist Health Clearance chief was a young man who spoke clearly and didn't show any contempt unlike the others. A red head who was a lackey or more often than not when it came to people like him, a goon, a henchmen, a instrument of evil, a instrument of the federal government using its strong arm to get what it wanted. Smith recalled handing the disks over regarding the final health examinations of the Robinsons and didn't seem to be suspicious of him in the very least. The most neutral member of the entire operation made of men and women helping the Robinsons prepare for the mission.
The basic and fragile skeletal system that could be compromised at any moment and fall part with a single step. That was what they were in all of the comparisons on Earth. They were the supporting system of the operation that allowed the Jupiter 2 to fly off from Mission Control to break through the atmosphere of Earth for space. One that he mockingly called Alpha Control. Waiting in a cold and dead rodent infested cell did nothing to feel worse. He had felt worse. The terrible treatment was nothing compared to the little accident that threatened to alter his mind.
The sound of hearing people walk by the court reminded Smith many times over: You're home. You're not alone. You're safe. And the future is uncertain. Just the way that he liked it. A bit of mystery in the dark was better than seeing what was ahead within the dark being even more dreadful than exploring the dark at all.
The cell door to the holding cell opened with two federal marshals waiting in front of the doorway. He was in a new change of clothes retrieved from his apartment days earlier. A suit worn at a funeral. In many ways the trial was the funeral of a hired assassin not a once high rising global space force officer. Not a promising and well decorated spy with rewards that were classified.
Now, today, was the day that he would find out his fate. That was all he was there for. It was not just sentencing. It was the fate of the man who would be awake to see it happen and face the consequences of his actions. It was determining if they in fact believed the prosecutor over the wild story spun by his defense regarding being trapped aboard the ship after staying too long checking on life support systems to get a reduced sentence. The lawyer hadn't liked the approach, admitting on the stand, only disputing the facts and the fact that he had gone through a ordeal to come back.
He was escorted to the court room that was filled up quickly. Everyone sat down into their seats all at once with a sound that echoed through each layer of the room. The judge arrived to the chair then it began as it normally had. A blur that he could skip over. But, he chose not to.
He closed his eyes, wincing, at the nagging thought to look behind him. They are watching you. The urge grew strong that it nagged at his conscience. Nagged him, turn around. It is imperative that you look behind. A nagging feeling that aided him through his long and decorated life.
He looked over his shoulder toward the row of reporters. There was a familiar young woman with dark hair in her forties at the back beside a camera man as she had a hand on the side of her ear and frowned at what she was hearing. A name echoed in his mind. And he frowned, perplexed, for a moment. Penny. And in the flash of his eyes, she was a young girl with dark hair and bright contrast of purple and green, smiling, playing with her experimental earrings then she was older once more. It was coming to him.
"See you later, my very dear child." And he had.
A blonde well aged woman was standing beside her waiting patiently with her hands clasped in her lap. She was staring at him attentively with bright blue eyes that were neutral but fierce. The image of her smiling leaning back into the chair with her hands clasped in her lap beginning to laugh replaced it. It all came flooding back to him about the last eternity. All the good and bad memories were shown before his eyes. Judy.
General Goddard had his back to the women with eyes that were endless pits of scorned wells. Their last conversation echoed and the single word of 'Jupiter 2', his mind clicked in recognition then smiled: they had echoed in time. Major West. The Major West. His older appearance was replaced by a drastically younger but more recognizable version of himself, in a silver and orange uniform, raising eyebrows facing a view screen decorated by space and his hands were grasped on the two handles of the craft. A memory that flickered away.
Among the onlookers was a red head in his forties drawing on a painting with his attention shifted down toward it- William-. A image of him as a young boy replaced looking at him giving a dirty look with his arms folded seated in the far off chair at the galley. Anger and disgust toward him. It all felt so long ago. And it had been a very long time ago. Smith looked, regretfully but apologetically, toward the specter. A specter angry at him for not bidding farewell. The mirage ended, vanishing like a fog, replaced by a stranger. The artist raised his head up meeting Smith's gaze then flipped another page and began to quickly scribble on the paper lowering his head.
And he sat beside another red head in her sixties. The face was so familiar. Maureen. Her eyes were replaced from anger to kindness and her scornful furious restraint was replaced by a smile in the image that replaced her aged appearance making her appear younger. It was the madame's counterpart. The real counterpart in his mind. She had aged wonderfully and gracefully in a dark time.
From beside the well aging red head matriarch was a older man that strikingly resembled John with grayed hair and lines that weren't there before. Easy to tell who he was. His demeanor had not changed in the flash back, attentive, neutral, only lifting a brow up then the mirage ended. A sad and bittersweet smile replaced Smith's contempt then turned away from the onlookers.
"Please rise,"
The crowd stood up.
"Please," the judge said. "Sit." Everyone sat where they could in the court room. "Does your client have anything else to say before the judgement is given out?"
Elice looked toward Smith.
"I do," Smith whispered.
Then Elice stood up.
"Yes, your honor," Elice said.
The crowd from behind the defense and the prosecutor mumbled loudly in a way that was quite cross. The judge smacked the small hammer against its resting place stirring silence into the court room with three smacks.
"Is this to add insult to injury or. . ."
"It is about the Robinsons." was all Elice made herself say.
"I will allow for it," The judge said.
Elice looked down toward Smith then slowly seated down beside him. Smith cleared his throat then got up to his feet placing his hands on the table. He buttoned up the black suit with speed that belonged to a older man. Not someone in their thirties. It was slow and concise. The silence was overwhelming then he released a sigh that cleared the tension in the air. He raised his head up toward the direction of the impatient judge. It was ominous standing before his peers and someone who held his fate in his hands. It wasn't so much different from being threatened in space with people of his choosing.
"The Robinsons were. . ."
Smith stopped short, emotionally, turning his head away looking back at his time with the other Robinsons. No one wanted to hear that the Robinsons were on thin hope that was beginning to run down and despair was on every corner when it came to the ship making it to Alpha Centauri. No one wanted to hear that they were decades if not hundreds of years into the future searching for the planet. No one wanted to hear the sweet failures they would be undoubtedly facing in the voyage watching everything they held dear be consumed into flames.
"Are the most kind, compassionate family I ever met," Smith continued. "Making me be part of it."
Smith shook his head, his eyes lowered, bitterly then raised his head back up facing the court.
"It makes me sad knowing that we don't have the hope they did . . ." Smith said. "There are days I feel that I did not deserve them. I didn't but then I did. Because of them, I finally felt human again. I had hope by my side. People who supported me. Something I lacked when I left this dying planet."
Loud alarmed murmurs broke out from behind Smith.
"Order, order!"
Smith lowered his disguise then turned around and shook his sinister yet demented hand. And there were screams. Screams that would have brought chills down to his own skin. Screams that he would have been part of. Screams that he would have agreed at one point. Screams that he disagreed with. He kept the disguise up as the crowd fled out of the courtroom that began to empty.
The gavel was slammed multiple times, echoing through the court room, as Smith turned away then seated into the chair and clasped his hands into his lap. He faced the judge with little display of being bothered by the commotion. The spectators left leaving only the artist, the military officers, the reporters, and the notably frozen audience members staring off in the direction of Smith.
"I will have order in this court! Earth is not dying! I repeat, Earth is NOT dying!"
The court room grew silent.
"Jury," The judge's fingers tapped on the desk. "What is your decision?"
"Your honor," started the short woman crumbling the paper in her hands. "we find Doctor Zachary Smith guilty on treason against Earth and attempted murder on the first degree."
"Members of the Jury, this Court dismisses you and thanks you for a job well done."
The judge shifted toward Smith a glare that could kill.
"Sentencing will be arranged when it has been decided."
The judge's eyes remained fixated on the man with contempt.
"For now, you will spend time in the best military prison on Earth. I have to think really hard and long about this decision. It isn't to be made lightly unlike the one that brought everyone into my courtroom," she picked up her small hammer then shook it in the general direction of Smith then lowered it. "This court is adjourned."
"All rise."
Earthly prison was so different compared to the one that he was familiar to. Bars instead of forcefield wall that stood in the way and made him feel less like a caged animal and more as a trapped human being. If he were still half of what he was turning into all those years ago then it would have been even the more harmful to his psyche. Smith was reading a biodegradable novel that appeared to be ready to be thrown out and discarded to the dirt. The normally yellow pages full of age from being reread many times was replaced by green appearing in the pages as thin lines standing out against the light green shade with leaves standing out. It was roughly close to needing to be thrown away.
He chucked it toward the recyclable trash can where it landed with a thud. The trash can shook from side to side then became still and silence returned into the room. It had been days since the trial. It felt like weeks if not months. It didn't help that the warden had organized his schedule in such a way that when he did come out of his shell no one was awake. And it was the cruelest aspect of the agonizing experience. Not knowing when Eglardo could yank him back from his home world back into a alien environment. Or if he was going to keep his word. It was hard to appreciate and enjoy being in a cold and hard environment that was more familiar than being in a alien's hold with that knowledge.
Military prison was nothing compared to the hellish landscape that he had lived in and uncomfortable living conditions that he had been shoved into. His door was completely gray with a rounded hole that had several bars. It was a wonder why they were being so protective over Smith when they could just let the other prison inmates take care of the problem that had almost certainly doomed the civilization and tried to benefit the other.
History was happening differently, Smith was sure of it. The future was the past; The Robinsons unexpected death, West growing furious, and Robot becoming all alone. Abandoned in a Jupiter 2 somewhere on a rock unknown. Or stationed on the abandoned Jupiter 2 freely floating in space, lifelessly, damaged, and hauntingly heartbreaking and beautiful at once. And incredibly silent. Now it wasn't going to be silent. It was going to be full of life with him in a stasis pod aboard the rescue ship waiting for the long journey home, the Robinsons celebrating being found, the freezing tubes being repaired, and Robot returned to his chamber. And the Jupiter 2 resuming her flight to Alpha Prime A.
His mind wandered over on the matter if only for a moment then wandered over to the past leading him home. The pain that he left the Robinsons in couldn't be measured. It could only be known at the heartbreak, anger, bitterness, resentment at not having the guts to say goodbye to their faces and leaving behind their backs. Even after recovering from his time at Destructon in a spare stateroom. No thank yous for all they had done. It was another cruel kind of agony taking off like that to them.
It was sudden, abrupt, and shocking. Just as how his counterpart had left them. He had abruptly left just as they had regained him. Just like his counterpart. Time was of the essence! It had to be done! You had no choice! Smith reminded himself. They could have lost the professor if I stayed for another month. Or. . . He grimaced as the image of the young boy, heartbroken, flashed across his mind. William. He shook his head. Unacceptable.
Smith yanked out the unopened book from behind his head and ripped the packing off then tossed it into the recycling bin. He had plenty of books left to keep him distracted and not lose his sanity being alone. And he hated being alone. It was the same special kind of agony that plagued him for months and he could not pause it. It was his own personal hell that had been brought into existence. And Frank was obeying his very wish to the letter. He took out dozens of biodegradable paper from the night stand then picked up a pen that was anti-stabbing even modified to be unable to be turned into that way once being pressed against the skin.
Dear Frank:
My hand trembles as I write this.
Silly isn't it?
Ironic, the man with the neatest hand writing in the solar system being unable to write clearly.
As it will be the only and last letter. Please don't reply. Don't, my darling. I am sorry for doing this to you. Here is the whole story. Right from the beginning. It started a long, long, long time ago on a planet called Earth in the solar system. It started in New York City before the great reformatting was set to happen. It started with Clarissa. It started in a room with two elderly people in love. . .
A/N
Did you honestly think I would leave Maureen's counterpart without a John?
How cruel of you.
It's what she deserves in any cameo in the world of fanon!