Maureen's eyes fluttered open. She was in a dark, unfamiliar room. The low, comfy humming of the ship was music to her ears. Similar to the noise she would hear from the Jupiter 2 while in space. For a few moments, Maureen was led to believe she was back in bed with her husband by her side on the Jupiter 2 and everything that had happened was all a nightmare. She turned her head to see that unfortunately, it hadn't been a nightmare at all. The distinctive figures of Judy and Don seated along each side by her bedside stinking, their clothes wrinkled, seemingly as though they hadn't taken a shower in days. Don's arms were folded, his eyes resting, while leaning to his side. Judy was slumped in the chair beside him. To Maureen's left, there was a distinctive familiar snore.

She looked over to see Smith resting in the chair with a unique, dark orange head comforter attached to the head rest. His lifeless theme had been replaced by even lighter colors that were still as dark as the room. He was in a dark orange turtle neck and purple pants that had a long, thick dark orange stripes on both sides. His hands were clasped together in his lap. Compared to Judy and Don, the glow hadn't came back for him. Maureen relaxed, her mind eased. They were well on their way back to the Jupiter 2 and the excitement was finally over. She closed her eyes as a small smile began to spread on her face. From the lower end of the bed, there was a glow that returned except that outlined the blanket turned from dark gray to a light gray sparkling blanket with a bright gray glow about it. The sudden brightness in the color went up with intense speed until it came up to her head. Her dark red hair returned to the bright, lovely red. Her slightly darker pink skin became bright once more. Her grayed skin became a healthy pink that shined with the glow around her.

A familiar figure entered the room.

"Why hello there, Mrs Robinson," John said.

Her blue eyes were focused on the man who walked out of the shadows.

"Mr Rogers," Maureen said.

"We're headed to your stop," John said. "You must be relieved that this mission is over."

"It is never really over," Maureen said, earning a head tilt and a baffled look from John.

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"I mean going on adventures to save the people we love," Maureen said, her eyes gazed toward Don and Judy then over toward Smith. "It's part of the reason why we accepted the mission to Alpha Centauri. Growing closer as a family, expected struggles, and the unique fun that we might have there starting a colony." She had a smile grow. "I don't see them as missions. They are more like family time."

John came to the front of the bed.

"Your husband must be a very optimistic, lucky man," John said.

"About him. . ." Maureen said.

"He is not that anymore," John said.

"It's dark and it's gray back there," Maureen said.

John looked over in concern toward the woman.

"It's that bad?" John asked. "It's so bad everyone loses their color?"

"No, no, no," Maureen said, with a shake of her head. "it's. . ." she paused, considering. "you wouldn't understand."

"I can try to understand," John said.

"Color doesn't stick out, nothing seems promising, and there's a heavy atmosphere," Maureen said. "I see color, I do, we all do."

"The fog of depression looming over makes it hard to see things for what they are," John said.

"You took the words out of my mouth," Maureen said. "For a moment there, I thought I was being rescued by John. Before. . . before. . "

"Before he fell apart," John finished for her.

Maureen nodded.

"He is the most qualified man I know to lead a mission in space. . . he could have been a leader rather than a professor," Maureen said. "The most respected, admired man in the Galactic." She shook her head with a fond smile. "He is a man of science. We are both people of science."

"We must look alike for you to mistake me for him," John remarked.

"You look nothing like him," Maureen said, earning a laugh from John. "Thank you for playing along."

John had himself a smile toward the well aged woman.

"You're welcome, Mrs Robinson," John said, then looked over toward Judy and shared a nod. He walked away from the two headed toward the door.

"Judy," Maureen called, softly. "Judy. . ." the young woman stirred. "Judy."

Judy lifted her head up and her light blue eyes fluttered open.

"Mommy?" Judy said.

"I love you, Judy," Maureen said. "But you smell."

Judy laughed in-between her tears taking a hold onto Maureen's hand.


It had been a few hours since the spaceship picked them up, Maureen waking up, and the group taking their individual sonic showers. Don felt like there was things being moved around him that he didn't know. Sounds of whirring came from behind him in the corridor. Each time he went after it, Don came to a dead end and couldn't see anywhere the source of the noise had gone. He would hear it from behind them then turn around and give chase. He heard the sound of treads from ahead so obviously it had to be some kind of not that well advanced robot and the sound of whirring verified that theory. This was the kind of whirring that he would hear from the Robot's bubble head being moved. It was quite unnerving. It was the exact kind of thing that needed to be solved, explained, and witnessed first hand.

Something was going on here but Don had no idea what it was. He had a feeling that it was not something he disliked at all. He had a feeling that they were not enemies or going to flip on the party after all they had done. When it came to the Robinsons gut, most of the time aliens went under the radar because they were friendly toward them when in reality they were not good. He had a feeling that Smith was involved, somehow and someway that was insignificant. He was well on his way to the bridge when he overheard a conversation in the form of whispers from the corridor. Instead of slowing down and listening as anyone should be doing, Don went ahead keeping his pace up. He came to the corridor where the conversation was taking place between Smith and John.

"You'll die doing that," Smith said.

"We won't," John said.

"How are you so certain of that?" Smith asked, earning a eyebrow raise from John.

"We have a good chance of going to our time, dropping him off at UGSF HQ, and saving our planet," John said. "I get the feeling people like us survive in these situations."

"Their optimism has gotten to you," Smith said. "It's infectious."

"No, Doctor Smith," John said, shaking his head. "We had that all the time."

"You didn't seem like it," Smith said. "And your family is okay with a suicide mission?"

"Yes," John said, with a nod. "They are."

"Willing to die for someone else. . ."' Smith said. "That is brave."

"The kind of courage that we should have found a long time ago," John said.

"Your courage has kept you alive for so long," Smith said. "Bettering yourself is another kind of courage."

"Speaking of bettering ourselves," John said. "We were supposed to represent the best of our planet when we went out into space years ago. We haven't exactly been kind to the alien friends we have made in space." John sighed, his eyes glancing toward the floor then back up toward Smith. "I always wanted to be better than my father but instead, it backfired. I became worse than my father. I've made poor decisions but that all changes after we drop you and your family off."

"The kind of people I meet," Smith said, shaking his head.

"What kind of people are you, anyway?" Don asked, coming from behind. "That's a bunch of initials that don't make sense."

"Major," Smith greeted the man with a rare smile with his fingers tapping together. The pleased, happy look was startling. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Don said, looking toward John then toward Smith. "What kind of people is your family?"

"Cowards, thieves, and meddlers," John said. "We're going to be doing what we do best in," he grew a familiar smile. "Meddle."

"And the people you often bump into turn out to be bad people," Don said, his attention on Smith.

"I am a magnet for the wrong kind of people, Major," Smith said, as John walked away.

"What did you do to your hair?" Don asked.

"I did nothing," Smith said.

"Something is different," Don said. "And I can't exactly pinpoint what it is."

"There is no mustache," Smith said.

"Ah, that's it!" Don said, snapping his fingers. "Your face looks a lot less ugly."

"I'll have you know that I had people flirting with me more than usual," Smith said.

"Uh huh," Don said, playing along. "and I get turned down because I don't look appealing."

"But it's true," Smith said.

"I like to have seen that happen," Don said.

"When I think about it," Smith said. "Given the circumstances that it happened and the way it played out. . ." he tapped on his chin looking on as though heavily considering telling him. "Never mind." Smith walked off.

"What kind of rescue mission are they going on?" Don asked, following the man.

"A fellow passenger," Smith said. "Never met them."

"Thieves stick together," Don said. "Tightly."

"This band of thieves didn't stick that well together," Smith said, earning a confused expression from Don. "More focused on self preservation than anything."

"That's different," Don said, earning Smith's repetitive "indeed" in return and the topic went off about Gadious and what it was like on the planet.

West watched them turn a corner while leaning against the wall.

"So that's how it feels to watch myself talking to Smith," West said, thoroughly amused as he shook his head.


Returning to a very certain place with uncertain future prospects made for a very worried man. The thought of walking into the cave for the first time since the collapse was terrifying. Don and Judy were hanging out somewhere aboard the ship, Maureen was on the bridge looking at the view screen in awe, and Debbie the bloops and the Robot were hidden carefully with some help from Smith. Smith was in the temporary quarters. He was admiring space from his perch. He never had taken a good hard look at it for the last three months with the kind of vision that he had. His eyesight returned allowed him to admire what was in the now. Dwelling on the present was a specialty of Smith's. He observed the various shades of blue lines to the warp tunnel speeding past the window.

The spaceship jumped out of warp. The door to the temporary quarters opened and a familiar presence entered. Smith lowered his head, closing his eyes, his shoulders sulking. Will's figure came through the doorway. The door closed behind him. Smith held on to his hands while leaning against the window ledge. His vision had changed from gray to lighter colors that were still dark. He can see light from the stars, the cosmic lights, the nearby planets, and the darkness of space. It wasn't as black as before but a darker shade of navy blue to his dark blue eyes. His once clear blue eyes didn't seem to have the tiniest of all bright lights illuminating from them. Will had a thick square object tucked under his arm.

"We didn't finish the last round to the chess," Will said, setting up the chess board.

Smith turned toward the boy.

"I . . I rather not," Smith said, watching the pieces be moved to the familiar spots.

"Because you're scared," Will said.

Smith approached the couch.

"Would you be?" Smith asked, seating into the chair across from Will.

It was sudden but Smith looked older than he really was before Will's eyes. Maybe it was the lighting in the room. Or it was from the blue vulnerable lighting coming from the window that reached out blanketing most of the room. It wasn't the bags under his eyes. It wasn't the dark grayed hair that seemed almost a blueish-gray from the lighting. There was silence between them. The only sound heard in the room were the warm, familiar humming of the Duetronium engine. Will looked on toward the man in pity.

"No," Will shook his head at the reply with his hands placed on his knees.

Smith raised his eyebrows, perplexed.

"Why?" Smith said.

"It won't be the last chess game," Will said.

"You are very certain," Smith said. "Don't get so cocky. Cocky isn't good for people in this universe."

"I am not being cocky," Will said. "I got a feeling it's going to be alright."

"It doesn't make your stomach twist that this time, you'll win again for the last time with someone similar to your friend but different?" Smith asked, raising a eyebrow. "I will never be your friend. I can never replace your friend for a brief moment of happiness and you know that as I do. Your final chess game with a different version of your friend feels wrong in your gut. And yet, it makes you happy. You wonder why you are feeling this way." Smith sighed, looking down toward the chess board. "The answer is. . . because I gave you hope."

"It's the kind of hope that we have been missing," Will said. "Lately, it feels like we'll never reach our own time and save Earth. That this mission is doomed," he sighed, folding his arms, resting in the chair and slumped in it. "Things were getting depressing around here when you came. You didn't do anything major but the smallest things you've done have been beneficial." Smith tilted his head. "Judy and Major West are not on-again and off-again. The Robot is back. I have been happier than I have been in months. Penny has been in better spirits. After meeting mom's counterpart, mom and dad had a change." Smith straightened his head, intently listening to Will's recount. "It's small, but it's there. I can't pinpoint it but they seem happier about this decision than any other we've made since we left him behind and . . . And lately, the atmosphere around here hasn't been as depressing."

"This entire adventure has comforted you and your family rather than make everyone sad because it means that their friend is not dead," Smith said. "You know that your counterpart is in a coma, you know that the Robinsons thought I was dead and so did he . . . so you're going off a leap of faith that your friend is still alive and well but very miserable."

"It doesn't twist my stomach," Will said. "Because on the last game, he won fair and square."

"You were distracted," Smith said, watching the final pieces be placed on his side of the table.

"I was thinking about the people we left on the previous planet, whether or not I did the right thing," he sat down into the chair in front of the table. "whether if we were in their position that we would have done what they did. If our society was like them rather than the way it was." he looked up toward Smith. "Does he look back at his previous adventures?"

"I don't know for certain," Smith said. He looked up toward the young boy. "You can easily make the final move."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Will asked.

Smith sighed, his hands cupped into his lap.

"It does," Smith said. "This is something that has to be finished and should have been finished long ago."

"I mean when this is over," Will said.

"Ah yes. . ." Smith said. "That."

"Being in a place that is so certain then walking out of it into uncertainty?" Will said. "I know you, Doctor Smith. You're terrified to face a little boy that you left behind in the cave. He might not look the same, he might have a lifelong disability, and you are terrified that he will suffer more because of you." Smith grimaced then closed his eyes and lowered his gaze down. "Knowing myself, it was my idea and mine alone. I would have gone anyway if we had a earthquake detector that said not to go."

Smith shed a weathered smile back on him.

"Now . . " Smith said. "who is the psychologist?"

"Don't need a doctorate to know you," Will said.

"You must be so afraid what happens next," Smith said.

"I am not afraid about dying," Will said.

"Why?" Smith asked, curiously raising a brow.

"For the first time we're not running away from uncertainty but toward it," Will said. "Not away from it." Will picked up his white piece then played with it in between his fingers. "If the Robinsons are willing to risk death just to save a stowaway who got into trouble from time to time then who are we?"

"A flawed family," Smith said. "Very flawed."

"They never left you behind for long," he captured the queen. "checkmate."

The door to Smith's temporary quarters opened again.

"We'll be landing in fifteen minutes," Tomlinson said, then Smith looked up toward her and stood up from the chair. He approached her then came to a stop.

"Professor," Smith said. "I am-"

"You shouldn't apologize," Tomlinson said, her hands on her hips. "We needed to be reminded who we are. What the Robinsons are. What it means to be Robinsons," She looked over toward Will than back toward Smith. "I should be the one thanking you, Doctor Smith."

Tomlinson left the confused man at the doorway making her way down the corridor.


The spaceship made its descent down to the planet steadily and decisively piloted by West.

What little time that he had been around his counterpart easily showed they were alike in some ways then very drastically different.

Don and Judy shared a lot of stories about their side of the universe on the way over to the planet. The way they painted the Jupiter 2's crew was different and yet the same. Several handfuls of them were Smith getting into trouble, most of them had Will getting into trouble because of Smith, Penny or Judy getting into trouble, rarely if not the men getting trouble, and not a single story about aliens wanting Maureen. It was suspicious how no one wanted to take the professor or himself captive. It was quite strange since sometimes it came to himself being captured in the last three months. Sometimes, the stories had all the Robinsons held captive and the Robot (and someone else) coming to their rescue while Smith went along trying to survive in what ways he could. The uncharacteristic absence of the meddling doctor in the Robinson rescue missions seemed suspicious. One way or another, Smith had a hand in it and the Robinsons were kept in the dark about what he did. Very much unlike his counterpart who blatantly had it known and complained about all the hard work that he had to do.

The landing procedure for the spaceship was conducted. All three landing gear extended from the belly of the ship landing to the ground. The ship grew still. West sighed, relieved. The landing had gone down without a hitch. The kind of hitch that sometimes the spaceship had in the year and three months. Most of the time they landed without landing gear so they came out through the hatch on the ramp. He turned on the hangar door ramp and made sure to press the button that selected the Chariot. From the hangar, a large bulky bag landed to the ground landing on the side. In a distinctive, surprisingly turn of events, the bag turned into the bulky large transport. The camera panned back to reveal the group of Robinsons looking at the transport. Don seemed to be bothered by it with his arms folded. It was still dark gray with long, bulky treads. Could have been from a tank rather than for a jeep in every way. It seemed more military than being for exploration purposes. The hangar bay door slid open smoothly letting in a out pour of light into the dark scenery.

"You can stop gawking at their bus, Major," Smith said, as Judith came toward the side doors of the Chariot.

"I still don't like it," Don said. "I like the chariot better."

"I cannot agree more," Maureen said, earning the head turn from the men.

The door to the chariot flew open and a series of steps rolled down to the floor.

"Van's ready," Judith called.

"Ladies first," Smith said, gesturing toward the Chariot.

Maureen had a bright smile toward him then walked on ahead and so did Judy.


Judith got into the drivers seat and clasped her hands on to the wheel. It was the only transport from the spaceship that had anything external to use and not be performed by buttons. She could see the young woman sitting by her boyfriend and they seemed happy. The kind of happiness that seemed years old rather than months old. She looked over toward Maureen who was resting against the wall with her hands clasped together and Smith was reading a padd. She pressed a button on the panel. The large compartments slid up to reveal the large, wide windows.

"You may want to buckle up," Judith announced.

"Why didn't you mention that before?" Maureen asked, raising a brow.

"Because it was Dean who was driving the last time," Judith said. "Not me."

"I can attest that she did not drive this monstrous atrocity when they brought me over," Smith said, as the seatbelts clicked.

"Obviously," Don said, sarcastically.

"You weren't paying attention!" Judith said. "I could have been driving and you didn't even notice."

"It was a very bumpy ride," Smith recalled.

The women and the young man laughed.

"Hold on!" Judith said. "We are going our way over those bumps!"

The Chariot flew out unexpectedly over the halfway lowered platform protruding out of the hangar bay. From beside the platform on the ground, The Robot and Will waved them off. The Robinsons didn't notice they were being waved off as they clung to their seatbelts with screams. The two friends lowered their hands down to their side then walked back into the ship. The scene returned to the Chariot as the girly creams turned into laughter. It was mostly Maureen's laughter while her hand was clutched onto a hook.

"I can pilot better than this over rocky terrain," Judy said.

"Oh, wanna bet?" Judith asked.

"Uh huh," Judy said. "I have done worse!"

Judith looked over in horror toward the group.

"Last time, she crashed the Chariot into a lab," Don said. "Right in the nick of time to save a mermaid."

"Watch the road, Doctor Rogers!" Maureen said.

Judith grabbed a hold onto the wheel regaining control.

"I was lucky that it wasn't a bad crash," Judy said, over Smith's screams as the Chariot speed over a hill sending it flying.

"WE'RE GOING TO CRAAAAASH!" Smith insisted. "We're doomed!"

"Oh shiii-" Judith pressed a button then a long trampoline compartment extended out from beneath.

The Chariot bounced against the side of the mountain then flipped and turned. Everyone screamed during the chaotic, terrifying moments. That was until she pressed the button. The black trampoline deflated going back into the center of the transport. The Chariot landed on the path that lacked any hills. The Robinsons sighed, relieved. Smith collapsed in the chair taking in gasps of air.

"Remind me. . . next time. . ." Maureen said. "When we visit your family again. . . to take the spider pod . . . as a ride."

"Now that I will do," Judith said, combing her hair with her free hand.


The Chariot came to a stop in front of the cave. One by one the group disembarked from the Chariot in a pleasant mood. Smith stopped in his tracks standing alongside the Chariot looking on toward it. It felt like it had been over fifty years ago that he had came through. The things he had experienced, the things he went through, and the things that happened over three months made him feel older than he really was. Maureen came to a stop in front of the cave. Smith's dark blue eyes were on the upper half that diverged into the ground. She placed a hand on Don's shoulder then the Major went in after Judy.

"Something the matter, Smith?" Maureen said.

"I rather that the caves tunnels never be a place of tragedy again," Smith said.

"We will block it off when we get back," Maureen said.

"A cave to forget," Smith muttered, softly, to himself.

"It'll never be forgotten," Maureen said.

"Isn't everything I do forgotten and forgiven?" Smith asked, looking over tiredly toward Maureen.

"Wounds like these are hard to forget," Maureen said. "That collapse wasn't your fault."

"I wish I could believe that, madame," Smith said, rubbing his left temple with a shaky breath. "I wish I could."

"Stop telling yourself that," Maureen said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"The human mind is complex," Smith said, with a heavy sigh. "Psychologically, I am not the same man I was before."

"You're still the same Doctor Smith we have known for five years," Maureen said. "a little different is all."

A small, weak smile was shared toward Maureen.

"Every time I go into a cave," he shook his head unable to continue rubbing his forehead. "I. . ." he tried to go on. "I want to run out of it and never look back."

"Even this one?" Maureen said.

"I haven't stepped into it yet," Smith said.

"You can't walk in because you feel that another collapse can happen," Maureen said.

"Au contraire, madame. . . You were nearly there," Smith said. "I can't walk in caves because when I do walk in. . . I feel like it is still happening. That it never ended."

"The accident," Maureen said.

"The ground is trembling. . " Smith said.

"So you run to safety," Maureen said.

"It's not easy to run," Smith said. "I am plagued with thoughts that there is danger going on. I hear the unsettling sounds of rocks falling around me. One wrong move and-"

Smith cut himself off closing his eyes, disturbed, bothered by the lingering memory. The noise of the collapse echoed in the background. She knew what he was going to say. One wrong move and he would have been dead. Will and Smith would have been entombed together in the tunnel had things gone very wrong. He was doing the best that he could to live with it above his head just as her family had regarding Will. It was a unique, bittersweet parallel. She was grateful that no one died in the accident. Someone had but they were slowly coming out of the grave by the passing hours and healing was not going to take hours for him. With the outcome of the accident in mind, they were very lucky.

"Do you have nightmares?" Maureen spoke up.

"Plenty," Smith said.

"Tell me about it," Maureen said.

"Do you really want to know?" Smith asked, looking toward her raising his eyebrow.

"I do," Maureen said.

"Most of my nightmares are about getting stuck in this cave," Smith turned his attention on to the cave. "Searching for a exit only to find William's broken body halfway buried by rock. Sometimes. . . I dream that I pick him up while the rocks are falling then bring him over to this side. Even braver than me to start digging until those two come over and help us out. Few times do I dream of us going back to the Jupiter with bags full of diamonds and it had never happened."

"Last two weeks I dreamed nothing had happened in that cave," Maureen said. "Didn't have to fix him up, tear his clothing off, and clean up the mess. I don't know what to feel about you having the nightmares and me having the better dreams but what I do feel is. . ." she sighed, then shook her head. "happy." Smith's face softened. His face reading that he didn't regret that it was him rather than her. "Selfish of me to be that way."

Smith's vulnerable demeanor slipped away as he looked insulted.

"It's not selfish," Smith said. "Not at all." He saw the look of concern on her face. "Give me a few moments. . . I have some bearings to regain."

"Don't run after the Chariot ahead of us," Maureen said.

"Why is it that?" Smith asked.

"The passage way from here to there has lots of turns compared to the other side," Maureen said.

"So it is not a straight path," Smith said.

The difficulty ahead seemed troubling. The thought of walking slow and without precision in a cave that could become unstable at any given moment was too much to bear. The dark opening of the cave seemed larger than it really was and more intimidating to him than it was to the three members of the Robinsons. To him, it was the mouth of a dragon just waiting to swallow him then prepare to feast on him in whatever way possible. The small, slightly long collection of rock pointing down toward the ground from the cieling of the cave. Smith squeezed his hand.

"We can go in together if you like," Maureen offered.

"I don't deserve your aid," Smith said, patting on her clasped hands. "Not after what I put the family through recently. . ." He reached his hand back. "I appreciate your offer, madame."

"Don't keep him waiting, Smith," Maureen said, earning a pleased nod. "Will has waited long enough."

Maureen walked on ahead of Smith.

"I heard you need someone to hold your hand going into the cave," Penelope's voice came from behind Smith.

Smith turned toward the young girl blending in among the surroundings.

"Were you hiding on the roof, child?" Smith asked, softly.

"Yes," Penelope said. "If the Robot's on the other side then hang on to him, close your eyes and relax while he speeds you out of there."

"That is what I do best," Smith said, as Penelope reached her hand out for him. "You are very kind."

Smith held his hand out for the teenager's hand letting her fingers wrap around his palm.

"Come on, Doctor Smith," Penelope whispered.

Smith walked on toward the cave.

The first step into the cave was the hardest not to start running. The ground didn't feel firm and stable to him but unbalanced threatening to send him tumbling down to his feet in the way of falling, pointy diamonds. The bright, golden glow illuminating from the Robinsons ahead pressed him on. But it was also Penelope squeezing his hand to remind Smith that he wasn't alone. He had little choice to stop and regain his bearings. He was guided by their glow to the ill-fated section of the familiar tunnel. A tunnel that once had been blocked three months ago. One that had separated two universes from each other.

His hands were trembling. Smith came to a stop in front of the entrance to the other side. He couldn't feel the ability to move, let alone talk, the hair decorating his skin raised up, and goosebumps went down his skin. Penelope squeezed his hand, once more. Don turned from the gigantic, purple glowing blaster toward Smith. Penelope let go of the doctor's hand letting his fingers uncurl from against his palm. Smith felt Penelope gently squeeze his shoulder then it was no more. It was a general message that she believed in him to go through with it. A lingering foreboding feeling was radiating from the large tunnel that lead to the other side. He wore a distant expression.

The Robot's head bobbed up then turned toward the group being a good distance away.

"That was not long," The Robot said.

Don rolled his eyes then walked after Smith.

"I can walk on my own, you Romulan royalist!" came Smith's voice shortly thereafter.

Judy and Maureen laughed as Don walked past them with Smith laid over his shoulder.

"We'll go a lot faster this way," Don said.

"Major!" Smith shouted. "Put me down!"


"Captain Bishop, please report to Commodore Osengard's office," came the announcement.

No more blackmailing on his mind.

No more Colonel Smith threatening him and his officers.

Everything was going fine. Just the way that Bishop liked it.

He had submit his application for admiralcy (after all the things he had done) and was expecting a reply.

Things had finally returned to a bit of normalcy after three months of being given a bad headache that only occurred when face to face with the source or even talking to him. He didn't have that headache in his last communication with the Colonel. Suffice to say, Bishop was pleased. What was left of his Weapons Testing command had spread throughout the galaxies going to different postings. It had been a week since Colony XY had been attacked, somewhat destroyed, and lost hundreds if not thousands of colonists. A formal investigation had been launched shortly after the last evacuation pod was found and brought to safety. Traumatized colonists were difficult to help and the space doctors without borders had been rather distrustful. Their eyes were daggers to him including the officers around him. The screaming that he heard from the medical ward sent chills down his skin. Colonists still dealing with their nightmares. Some had gone insane from the attack.

The emotional toll on the medical professionals was astounding and the weight of what they were trying to help the colonists with were weighing down their faces. It wasn't surprising to find two psychiatrists from the corner of the hall in a passionate discussion about handling a survivor who couldn't sleep in the dark in a room full of bunkbeds that were also occupied and other people wanted to sleep in the dark. It was a problem that was plaguing the large headquarters. The medical section of the large starship had so many rooms that were being used for medical purposes or for patient recovery rooms. Problems were being felt a week into the recovery of the colonists. No one can see his bloody hands. They were not covered in blood but they might as well have been. He smiled in return to his colleagues who shared a wave to him then returned their attention to what they were doing as he passed them. He came toward the doorway to Osengard's office. The dark red doors opened before the man allowing him to enter the office and the doors closed behind him.

"Welcome, Captain Bishop," Osengard said.

"Commodore," Bishop said

"Please," Osengard said. "sit."

"I am truly honored to be here," Bishop said, resting into the chair. "Captains don't normally sit here."

"Often enough they do," Osengard said. "Just very discreet about it."

"Sure," Bishop said. "So is this about my application for vice admiral."

"It is," Osengard said. "Your application has been denied."

"Denied?" Bishop said, grabbing hold on to the arm rest with a fallen jaw.

"Yes," Osengard said. "It was a very reluctant choice you see."

"I have a spotless record," Bishop said. "I have done everything I could for the federation."

Osengard wore a sad look on his dark face.

"This time you did something that we can't stand behind, captain," Osengard said.

Bishop stared back at the black man.

"What could I have possibly done?" Bishop asked.

"Recent allegations have been brought to light," Osengard said.

"Allegations. . ." Bishop said, confused,

"The kind that ruins a life in the public eye," Osengard said. "The kind everyone judges you on."

"I haven't done anything that could be seen as bad," Bishop then added. "Publicly."

Osengard was taking out padds from a metal folder.

"Just came after the search for all those missing space doctors without borders was concluded." He slid forward the thin, glowing blue pads onto the table toward Bishop. "We met someone who had the name of a missing doctor but it wasn't that doctor." he picked up a padd and read it in full half listening to what the commodore was going on about. On each of the padds had familiar names and the rank Colonel kept coming up. "Assumed the killer was a doctor. We let the killer get away but we didn't know at the time that he was a killer until the sheriff told us. Zeno didn't kill anyone that time around. A case of mistaken identity."

"I don't know what they're talking about," Bishop said, scattering the padds on the table. "This is a first that I have heard about this Colonel."

"You should recognize it since it is another term for captain in the army military," Osengard said.

"Oh, sure," Bishop said. "Like I know a fish out of temporal water."

"I understand the problem you had," Osengard said.

"He wasn't my problem," Bishop said.

"I have given you all the chances to own up to this disaster," Osengard said. "I have ran out of chances."

"I am their scapegoat," Bishop said. "They must have been handling whatever this Colonel was doing because I was busy with writing letters to the families of those officers who died in that accident three months ago. I am not the one who arranged for the colony to be attacked. More focused on their career than the lives of their peers."

"That's what all these files say," Osengard said, patting on the collection. "Why didn't you handle it differently?" Osengard looked at Bishop, disappointed, his hands clasped together on the table. "Thousands of colonists are dead. Many more are traumatized. Biological weapons anticipated for a large scale invasion planet side have been classified and are being scaled back, perhaps forever. You could have made your problem crash land on a distant planet and be done with him. Just why did you have to put everyone else at risk?"

Bishop stood up from the chair.

"I don't like these accusations," Bishop said.

"I do not like them, either," Osengard said, getting up from the chair, "Earth has a member among the Galactic Council of Justice which means we have to play our part in making sure justice is given when it comes to one of their own," he slowly went on approaching the man. The doors behind Bishop opened allowing in two officers. He stripped off the rank from Bishops sleeves as the man was restrained by the two officers then the ranks were placed on to the table. "Your trial is going to be held in one hour and everyone will be watching."

"Everyone?" Bishop asked.

"Everyone," Osengard said.

"I need a lawyer," Bishop said.

"These kinds of proceedings before the council require no need for one," Osengard said. "Your memory is the evidence and you are the lawyer not only the defendant," Osengard came to the chair. Bishop's hands were cuffed together. "Escort this man to the brig."

Bishop was turned away from the commodore then escorted out of the room.

The doors opened before Bishop to reveal a crowded, occupied hallway.

Everyone stopped what they were doing watching him be escorted down the hall.

Some of the other officers shook their head and a few had a grim look on their face. There was shame on all of the faces as he went down the hall. There were colleagues that he had known personally among them. He could feel all eyes were on him as he came to the familiar brig. He had been here a few times to put suspects behind the gates as a security officer himself. The blue doors lid open and he was allowed to walk in. Bishop turned away from the window toward the security officer on shift watching the two walk out of the room. The last light of freedom closed on his face.