Cameras were set up at the landing site for the historic event. It had been almost ten years since the Jupiter 2 had gone out of the solar system and one year since the Robinsons had last radio contact with Alpha Control. There were gasps from the assembled crowd as they stared into the sky. The Jupiter 2 didn't look proud and shiny as she had been when flying off into space for the Alpha Centauri flight. A flight that had been boarded by a traitor and a sapient B-9 as they came to find out from the officers. People covered their mouths to see the sight. The once glowing duetronium engines from below were shattered only emitting bright lights with parts of the bars were chipped off. Pieces of space barnacles fell off the bottom landing to the ground with a hard smack. Where there once had been a window beside the hatch was covered by metal that seemed to have been drilled on with massive screws that seemed to wiggle during flight. There were laser burns decorating the Jupiter.

The high pitch wail of the engines were heard giving it their all. The landing gear struggled to come down from below the space craft. The windows were covered by layers of metal that also appeared to have been screwed on sometime before that seemed to be in various stages of rust with barnacles decorating it indicating it didn't get taken care of often. The hulls underneath the Jupiter were loudly groaning in protest for making a landing. The Jupiter came down to a landing with great care and delicacy. The navigation bubble fell apart into hundreds of pieces. The hatch window cracked then fell apart loudly falling down the hulls on the exterior and interior of the Jupiter 2 as though intense pressure had been pressed against it with deep, long jagged scars lining around it. The two support beams fell off from the back leaving on the side that kept the Jupiter 2 standing.

All at once, most of the transplanted metal fell off the Jupiter in a thin cloud of yellow dust and smoke from among space parts to reveal the heavily battle damage decorating the Jupiter. Two MP's ran into the Jupiter side by side. There was silence from the gathering crowd consisting of military officials were part of the crowd. Members from Alpha Control were part of the group in their white shirts with black ties. There were cameras rolling up front aimed toward the Jupiter featuring silent reporters who didn't know what to say. Look of curiosity were on their faces among the tiniest of hope for the crew and bracing themselves visibly. The moment of truth had finally arrived regarding the fate of the Jupiter 2's unexpected space castaways.

There was a slow walk down the steps followed by a long, depressed sigh. Step by step that sounded heavy that echoed through the silent scenery. A lone, well aging old man with his head hung low, defeatedly, came down in Jupiter 2 civilian outfit being black and purple clutching on to a gray bag with two MP's from behind him. He raised his head up taking on a confident, proud persona taking on a brave face in a way that was visibly pained. His eyes seemed to be searching for someone. A certain set of someones, actually. His blue heavy eyes scanned the sea of people only to find the faces that he knew here were no longer there. There were new faces around him. He turned his attention off the stunned group turning his attention on toward the distance. He didn't seem to be present being towed away.

It was as though arriving to Earth was just a haze to Smith. He didn't answer any of the questions posed by the reporters that were coming all at once. The heavy feeling that had been in Smith's stomach had dissipated over the passing months taking care of himself and falling into fits of weeping at random points of the day. The bright intensity of the green around him didn't stand out as it should, the blue sky with popcorn themed clouds above him were gray and heavy to his eyes, everywhere he looked he could see people who reminded him of the Robinsons. What Earth once was to him had became the opposite. A stowaway had gone into space with the assigned crew and only his autopiloted shell had came back.

His last form of happiness was on the Jupiter in tears reaching the planet after hell. What little of happiness there was out there for him on Earth, there was none that he could accept at the time being. The very forms of happiness that he once enjoyed once was with him. And they were gone. Just vanished into flames before his eyes. The Robinsons had fallen before his eyes and burned away in flickering red flames. Flames that had eagerly eaten them alive before his eyes. He had the occasional nightmare of the Robot wheeling toward him engulfed in flames and he tried to put the fire out off the Robot but it kept coming back until his old friend was no more. He woke up crying after those nightmares. It was a mess. A clear, visible mess. He was in the interrogation room where two officers were playing bad cop and good cop. He stared through the window replaying just how it came to be this way. He had ran out of tears to share. The heavy feeling was just a small penny being dissolved by his stomach acid.

"What happened to the Robinsons?"

Smith had a sharp intake of air at the mere mention of them.

"I know you did it. Why did you do it?"

Following after Don's example, what would Don do? Not blow up. He was restricting himself from over acting. At least, not yet.

"Bob, stop it," the female officer said, glaring at her male colleague. "He doesn't need that."

"Yes, he does, Hanstine," Bob said.

"Can't you tell this man is grieving?" Hanstine asked, gesturing toward the silent man.

"He is not grieving," Bob said. "He is being unresponsive!"

"We were on vacation," Smith started.

The officers looked down toward him surprised to hear him speak.

"That lines up with the last entry," came the reply from the cool headed officer. "Professor Robinson wanted a break."

"We went down to a planet," Smith continued. "The children---" he stopped, briefly, closing his eyes then opened them up with a heavy sadness lingering inside. "No," he shook his head raising his head up. "the teenagers, the Robot, and I went out to explore." He looked back, fondly yet sadly. "We went into the temple. William. . . William and Penelope tried on some of the treasure. I took a lot of it," he raised his head up from the table. "Now that I look back at it, it was wrong and very. . . very. . very selfish," he lowered his gaze to the table. "The Professor ran in then told us to run. That is when we saw the bumps from above."

"What bumps?" came Bob while sitting down.

"They were more like lights glowing in the wall," Smith elaborated.

"Uh huh," Bob said.

"Then I out ran them," Smith replied.

"You out ran them?" Hanstine asked, as a certain understanding spread on her face.

"I should never have outran them," Smith said.

"And then?" Bob said.

"I tripped and fell to the ground," he turned his attention on to the men. "I fell instead of--" Smith stopped, sighing, closing his eyes.

"You fell. . ." Hanstine said.

"Yes," Smith said.

"What happened next?" Bob said.

"What happened next. . . what happened next?" Smith asked, his voice dripping in heartbreak. "I watched them fall to the ground burning away before my eyes is what happened next! They were burned alive." he lowered his head. "They were unresponsive when I came to their sides." he looked up from the table with eyes full of grief. "The Robot was destroyed in the flames. Completely destroyed," He became serene leaning against the chair with a distant look. "I didn't get a chance to say say goodbye. I. . I. . ." Smith shook his head. "I was trapped aboard the ship when it was getting ready to lift off. That is why the ship redirected toward the sun. That is why they went lost in space. That is why they died a year ago. I am guilty in their untimely demise."

There was silence from the two officers.

"Please, write your confession," the pen dropped with a heavy thud to Smith's ears.

Smith can see the heated glares coming from the severely burned Robinsons from behind the window.

"I am so sorry, Robinsons," Smith apologized.

The two officers looked over toward the window that showed no figure.

"Do you need to speak with a therapist?" Hanstine asked, concerned.

Smith paused, going through his memory of recent events.

"Yes," Smith said, then picked up the pen. "After my confession," he looked up toward the officers. "I told them my part before the tragedy."