"Right, where is the contract?"

The space trader shuffled through his belonging, going through packaging, each labeled with names with due dates that had to be collected at a much later date. With a loud "Ah ha!", the space trader took out the equipment then went over to the tube and settled the contract inside. He looked over toward the neighboring tube that would conceal his prized material.

Humans were still as valuable as the day that he had crossed paths with the one that would make himself something so prized. He came over to the console then proceeded to start up the machine, sliding up the levelers that cause the mobile lab to power up section by section, pressed a few buttons, then punched a piece of machinery with a label that read "PUNCH HERE" that reacted with elegance and certain grace.

The machine hummed gently with beeps and whirs coming from the consoles as the two tubes glowed gold. His four Northern Inuit dogs, replacements for dogs that he had lost to history long ago, lifted their heads up in response to the event occurring in front of them. They got up then whined as they cowered by hiding behind their owner's legs with their tails lagged behind them. A figure abruptly appeared with a scream in one of the freezing tubes covering their eyes shaking like a leaf.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Doctor Smith."

Smith uncovered his eyes then screamed as he slammed his back against the frame.

"No! It can't be! It mustn't be!"

The space trader walked forward rubbing his hands together.

"I trust that your life span was very content enjoying the sweet taste of freedom!"

Smith shrunk himself shielding himself from the trader.

"Stay away from me!"

The space trader chuckled.

"Now, now, now-you don't have to be this way!"

"You said you would never be able to collect me prior to using that foolish contact." Smith hissed.

"That was a lie." The space trader paused as he grinned. "False sense of security."

"False sense of security-" Smith grew appalled as his eyes flipped open. "You are the most impatient trader!"

"Why, yes." The trader agreed with a grin of pride. "Most humans on your world are that way." then he tilted his head, curious." Aren't they, still?"

"I don't know." Smith replied, flatly, glaring back at the alien who was now keeping him as property. "Earth suffered a third world war and sent everyone to the dark ages-it's hard to answer that question."

"Ah, must have been horrible." The trader noted.

"I got out before life became hard!" Smith exclaimed.

"But not fast enough," The trader reminded, cruelly. "you died."

"I am not the product that was weaseled into this agreement, Mr Trader."

"According to the Intergalactic Trade Association, that is meaningless." The trader approached the older man then snapped his fingers. "You're mine until we get to that trade fair."

"Look, a customer!" Smith pointed on ahead of the trader.

"Where-" The trader turned then Smith struck him with a rock and made his escape fleeing on from the scene on foot.

Smith ran and ran and ran on from the site as the dogs proceeded to bark chasing after him. Tears stung his eyes - I can't be dead, I can't be someone's property, I can't be without my freedom, I can't be living in a world without my dearest friends - as he ran on sprinting ahead of the dogs running on spite, defiance, and denial.

He ran without pain for the first time in years rifling through his joints without mercy that brought upon lack of energy. Smith, although, had to make several stops along the way that lasted for roughly ten to thirty minutes each stop as the sound of the dogs barking caused him to start running

Smith made his way on down a hill then rolled down - intentionally - on his side staining his uniform along the way then ran through the forest. He parted away the low dangling branches above his head as he ran further on ahead as the sound of the barking grew distant behind him but Smith kept pressing on. There was a clear sign of a river ahead of him but his feet were refusing to halt in tracks. He fled with a scream then tripped and fell into the streaming river.

Smith was spinning in the water as he grasped with futile strength to gain some footing then was sent to the surface regaining his breath and looked on observing there were several ways to delay what was it likely leading down towards. He was captured, surely, and Will was struggling to find him as it was with Will and Robot on their long road trip. That had to be it. Smith reached his arms out then tried to reach the tree branch nearby protruding from the pillar.

He missed the first time. Smith saw the next one coming and he knew this was the one that would be his way out. He grinned then reached both hands out for the life saver. Both of his hands grabbed hold on to the long but thick tree branch then slid himself forward closer to the shore of the forest across from him then climbed up to the top with his hands digging into the soil. He hadn't missed the second time.

His dearest friends had to be searching for him; somewhere. Smith ran on further in to the forest going on and on and on until he came to a nearby pond. He came over to the edge of the pond then observed himself-why do I look in my fifties? He touched along his bruised, scraped, and filthy face then noticed his sleeves were white just as his pants. His skin turned white as a sheet seeing the reflection that had fled into the pages of time guiding the halls of memories of those who knew him into different paths.

He wore a now dulled white version of his uniform that lacked any personality - just renewal- that was stained in brown with wear and tear along his neckline from the tree branches and sharp pine needles brushing against him repeatedly. Smith rubbed along his chin gazing down toward the pond then picked up a handful of water then splashed his face repeatedly until his face looked far better than himself in general. He stared there in a moment of shock until the sound of dogs barking caused him to get back up and resume the running.

Smith came to a abrupt halt where he found a large bear like creature surrounded by two smaller versions of itself staring at him. Smith screamed then three alien bears made a run for it fleeing into the wildness then he went in the direction right adjacent to where they had been fleeing for his life.

"Come back!"

Smith ran on.

"Reminds me why most traders don't bother in retrieving them."

the trader acknowledged as he looked at the screen watching as the human fled.

"Hopefully by nightfall," he rubbed his hands together. "he'll have stopped running away and rest."

The space trader brought over a chair then sat down into it and waited.

It was nightfall when Smith came into a desert landscape with sore feet. He collapsed to his knees then there was the sound of lightning, the sound of meteors crashing to the ground, and wind causing rocks to move. Smith shrieked then crawled into the nearest cavern against the wind of the storm and screamed in fright as a pile of rocks crashed upon the entrance leaving him stranded inside.

Smith relaxed then looked down toward his hands as the storm waged on outside of the cavern with loud bolts and crackles that echoed into the cavern. He couldn't see his nerves anymore as before, his fingers weren't so old, not coated in a fine sheet of gray, so healthy, so alive, all lacking his bishop ring. His hands trembled upon observing that critical missing detail-He lowered his hands down to his knees then leaned against the wall as he looked up toward the ceiling.

Then he was out.

Smith awoke to the sound of a new day outside of the cavern, coming, to so suddenly, alarmed with a gasp then looked beside him. He can hear the sounds of birds chirping outside, the sound of insects buzzing, and other sounds that were so relatively normal to hear from the environment in the desert. His blue eyes searched the area around him then realization dawned on him that what he dreamed was only a figment of a memory.

"William. . ."

Smith looked toward his side, sorrowfully.

"Damn."

Smith sighed, lowering his head.

"The unluckiest man that Earth has ever let go."

Smith cupped a hand over his eyes.

"Oh, the pain. The pain."

Will Robinson and the rest of the Robinsons died a long time ago, they wouldn't come after him, they wouldn't rescue him, they couldn't wiggle him out, loop hole him out, and there wasn't a opportunity to jump back into a time loop to be around them and enjoy the simple life trying to get back to a Earth that hadn't gone straight down to Hell itself.

The last times that he did go with the trader in the time loops, the Robinsons came after him one way or another that touched him. Now, they couldn't come to his rescue as they had done so long ago with laughter, smirks, and grins of their own at their triumph. Smith clasped his hands in his lap lowering his head. They were all gone, Robot, Jeremiah, Maureen, John, Penny, Will, Don, Judy, and the grandchildren Joshua and Katherine including Craig and Link. Smith began to weep for all those that had lost him.

No more hugs, no more squeezing their hand or shoulder in assurance or comfort, no more of their stubborn presence against the jaws of tragedy staying there out of spite. What was there to do next? His life was a broken tape recorder following a story until it hit a crack then was shoved off abruptly with nothing to finish the next lyric. He rubbed the side of his head as things became to become clear to him. Smith had died with Will by his side just shortly after their road trip ended with a unexpected rescue by Don in his Jupiter after the Jupiter 2 was stolen.

Smith remembered the younger man squeezing his hand; pleading with him, negotiating with him, to let the young man inject him with nanobots -"Please, Doctor Smith!" - as Will Robinson, Professor of Geology and Cybernetics, cried. His once young friend was old in that moment. He didn't want to let go of the older man. Will truly didn't want to see him leave his life, the longest lasting friendship that the younger man ever had. Smith knew that and didn't blame him for that.

In fact, Will was ten years older than the age that Smith met him as a child at that life changing moment giving the family stress tests. Sixty something-the younger man's age escaped him. If Smith had only done what Will had plead for him then he wouldn't be in this position with no freedom to spare or a fate that could not be avoided. It was a tragedy of his own making knitted with personal experience and personal feelings toward the request resulting from a change that developed with taking a taste of his deepest desire. "Do it, my dear boy." was what he should have said but instead said, "Let me go, William." But, Smith had lived forever.

He knew what forever meant. Forever, being alone, on his own outliving everyone that he loved. Being mortal meant watching decades pass by him, people dying slowly around him that he once knew he were trapped into the Robinsons lives, technology changing slow enough for him to become accustomed to. But being immortal meant - watching civilization come and go, technology changing, people coming and going- things were going to be happening quickly instead of slowly. No. He didn't want that. He wanted to be rich for as long as he could. When civilization broke apart: that meant hard work, lack of leisure, lack of food, lack of people willing to hang around him.

He missed the Robinsons, dearly. He wanted to be with them, safe and sound, fleeing from a problem that he had made by his own hands intentionally or not at all. Safe aboard the warm, comfortable, thoroughly protected Jupiter 2 featuring laser rifles, laser pistols, a family, a environmental control robot. How could he live without them in deep space? He knew how to live without them on Earth but space was a different ball game. He didn't have friends in high places, not quite yet, but there was always a start to everything.

He had no way of going back to his home solar system, see if civilization was fairing well rebuilding itself, or go to Alpha Centauri. What next? Retain what little freedom that he had in the wilderness? Who was he without the Robinsons? Without his desire to go home? Without the need to live forever? Human medicine was different now-but not psychology.

He was Doctor Zachary Smith, family psychologist, sabetour, greedy, flawed, and capable of providing to work to earn his freedom back in any manner possible, he was a individual who advocated for himself, manipulated people. That is who he was, the man people could count down to when the dominoes were down and everything looked hopeless; he never gave up.

That's who he was and always would be. Doctor Zachary Smith, no rank attached, just a association to a distant planet full of green and water and familiar lifeforms. That's who the Robinsons knew, a stubborn old man who desired power, wealth, and food. That is the person they decided to keep around, regardless of his flaws, regardless of how dangerous some of his decisions were (all tailored to make him appear a fool and lower their guard) in some instances.

Their kindness, their forgiving, their welcoming, their feel of belonging; unforgotten to Doctor Smith and space. Echoing for all of time, for as long as humanity lived, for as long the Jupiter 2 is brought up all those hundreds of adventures that were shared with them would be cause to bring up their characters. Smith and Will's personal long space road trip for one final voyage were very likely largely ignored. His character? Forgettable to the confines of space. But not completely to the likes of the space trader. Smith finished crying for them. Even for Will.

Smith looked back toward the entrance then got up to his feet then dusted off his uniform as his heart ached. There was Robot, somewhere out there, somewhere, just waiting to be found as he waited about out there providing information about the family of the Jupiter 2. Somehow, someway, they could cross paths with one another if there was anything that Smith's luck could insist.

Smith proceeded to lift rock after rock out of the way chucking them over his shoulder as he sang to himself cheerfully with a grumbling stomach. Pastries, vegetables, chicken legs-all the delicious food to keep him sustained. He could get into business once acquiring his new found freedom somewhere. If the space trader was of any proof; Smith could live forever dealing and wheeling his way to wealth.

Reborn like a phoenix, renewed, gifted with youth and another chance to make his name known across multiple planets. This opportunity would not be squandered. Smith withdrew the rocks until they were gone and the only thing left was the storm ahead of him contrasting against the desert landscape that had a dark sky and lightning stinging the clouds ever so brightly.

The same storm from last night had just started kicking up. How outrageous. Smith stifled back rolling his eyes and instead scowled in response to the event that was tearing up the landscape quite viciously and aggressively with roar, loud crashes, wind brushing against his face. He lifted his chin up, his shoulders raised, then stepped out into the open, his blue eyes fixated on the storm ahead of him.

"Stop this, immediately!"

Smith threw his arms into the air then shook them.

"I'll go with you cruel, tiny, miserable man!"

Smith bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"I'll go with you to the big trade fair wherever it may be-" he thumped his hands against his chest. "-just don't harm me!"

The storm stopped and it was all calm outside then he fell down to his knees feeling a sense of relief that the hard part was over. He looked down at his hands that still showed the wounds of yesterday. And his freedom was no more. He lowered his arms to his side as the action, the tragedy, and the terror were all over with.

Smith walked on forward out of the cave leaving behind the darkness, the uncertainty, the roughness of surviving in the wild with his scenery changing with a single pop back to the site that was disassembled leaving only the four dogs and the space trader who bore a grin.

"You win."

Smith shook his hands then lowered them.

"Right this way."

The space trader pointed into the craft.

"Is there. . . other people I need to be aware of inside or around us?"

"Why-"

"Don't deflect."

"They're in freezing tubes, but you are the prized jewel." The trader gestured back toward the older man. "You'll have a exhibit dedicated to yourself-the others, they don't appear as human as you and I do."

The trader gestured toward the inside of the craft then Smith hopped in with a reluctant sigh then tripped and fell to his knees with a wince. He looked up spotting the chamber was bigger than he imagined it it all those years ago not small and cramped. He got up to his feet then came over to the nearest console looking around as the space trader and his pets entered the room. On the screen was the display of a planet with a banner that read: TAURON TRADE FAIR.

It was quite a large planet with a interconnected continent from what was able to be seen. The trader came over to the man's side then guided him over to a chair, came back, then insisted, "Let me take care of you, Doctor Smith." with small pieces of equipment, with each equipment waved in front of him there were notable changes: wounds were gone, tears in his uniform, and bruises vanished with ease. Smith looked up toward the space trader.

"Can I modify my uniform?"

"Yes, that is one thing you can demand." The space trader noted, reluctantly. "specify what you like it to be."

Third year colors? . . . No, it was a new year, a new start, a new chance.

"Dark purple shirt, green v-neck, and gray dickie." Smith listed.

The space trader looked up toward the human, puzzled, at the notable small changes.

"Are you sure that you don't want a different uniform?"

"It's the only thing I feel comfortable in at this very moment."

"Hmm, alright." The space trader pressed buttons on the small equipment then directed them at the uniform and with a pop, the colors corresponded to the way it would have had in the fourth year then the devices were turned off as the space trader proceeded to walk away. "The freezing tube is this way."

Smith grimaced looking aside then back.

"Might I eat first?" Smith asked.

"Yes, that," It came out quite apologetically. "slipped my mind."

The space trader left and Smith leaned back then was returned with an fairly large apple.

"An apple?" Smith asked.

"It's programmed to taste like blueberry pie, strawberry jelly, and a simple breakfast featuring eggs and bacon." Smith lifted his brows then took the large apple that was being held out by the space trader. "It'll have you settled for the trade fair; you'll be awake for that part and you won't be eating all day for that if the right person doesn't come until nightfall."

"How kind of you, my dear trader." Smith said, graciously then proceeded to eat quite happily.

The trader smirked as he shifted toward the direction of the view screen then prepared for lift off.

"We will be there in approximately two weeks. You'll be asleep for most of the trip."

And the Robinsons were merely ghosts of a different time that didn't matter anymore, just relics of a past, people who were no longer presently on Smith's mind, people who made him go further into a trouble that was made by the space trader himself.

The space trader found that things were going on the way that it should have gone two hundred years ago. The older man lacking a reason to bargain, demand, even with no rights that had once bothered him. No one was in the way, nothing, not even the machine, not even the great bird of the galaxy. It felt satisfying to prevail.

It was all going smoothly as it should have gone.