Seated in a cold and bitter holding cell, Smith's hands were clasped together with his head lowered toward the floor. It was dark in the cell and moonlight was pouring in through the small window that had three bars set inside the window. The clear, white light was looming over Smith's figure that made a long shadow in the dark. He wore a grieving expression on his face seemingly patiently waiting for his court martial. The other prisoners were still awake as easily inferred by the sounds of distant whispering. Whispering that sounded like they belonged to ghosts from Smith's side of the holding compound. Smith seemed to be looking forward to the event but when he lowered his head in a shamed manner, it easily said that he didn't.

"You are blaming yourself for a event that you had no part in,"

Smith raised his head up.

"Professor, for all you're concerned I had my hands all over it," Smith said. "Please, show yourself."

John's burned figure came out of the dark.

The professor's dark brown yet curled hair was gone replaced by burns decorating his face leaving only behind his partially burned eyebrows and dark burns littered his face. The burns curled around his neck then down to his shoulders and straight through his chest. The chest was exposed from the halfway torn, burned colorful Jupiter civilian outfit. In fact, it looked like the professor was wearing black shorts that ended above his knees and were in tatters standing out as a fashion style when it wasn't. His boots were the only thing that didn't seem to be harmed from the burning. He had his severely burned hands on his hips. The guilt in Smith's stomach grew worse.

"Your weight sent us off course, Smith," John said.

"As you are very aware," Smith said.

"But you stopped us from being destroyed," John spoke up. "Not once, but twice, before we became lost in space."

"There is the good and the bad in this situation," Smith said. "Had I not been there, death would have been imminent, and had I not awakened the major, you would have died from a crash landing. . ." he grew a considerate expression as his eyes were looking down toward the floor quite sadly. "Now, it seems that death came for your family either way and I could not help."

"Don't beat yourself up over it," John said.

"Why should I when I survived but not your family?" Smith asked, standing up from the bed with his eyes focused on the professor. "Why should I!" his voice grew angry stepping forward toward the burned professor. "Answer me, professor!" His voice grew heartbroken, pained, and desperate. "Why me?"

The camera backed out to reveal that John wasn't there.

"I thought so," Smith said, then turned around where he returned to the bed and stared through the bars.