The camera panned over through the wall landing into the corridor to meet up with Smith. The older man had stopped struggling in the grip of the tentacles. His gaze fixated on his surrounding searching for a way out of the situation. He turned his gaze off the space ahead of him toward his captors to observe that they were in highly stylized armor that fit along to their build and the neck collar was wide and pointy with light gray glittering secondary metal on the rims. There were clasps on parts of the armor that could easily be unlatched with a single reach of his arm. He played through his potential escape only to end up being cornered at every single variation of the fantasy then being twisted, squeezed, and turned until his body ripped in half letting go of several gallons of blood. All his major organs fall out in a painless heap. The pain would have there in the initial split accompanied by a death scream. He didn't know if they were allowed to do that but it was undeniably plausible. His gaze fixated up toward the rounded windows that had giant bulbs at the center glowing light blue creating a large pool of light. Light that he may never again be able to appreciate. The hall was mostly dark then the lights going out from above divulged the station into darkness.

The aliens stopped in their tracks gazing around the corridor warily. The uncomfortable silence echoing through the corridor easily said that it wasn't a natural occurrence for the station. The aliens resumed their way down the corridor passing by security officers running on past them. Smith could see their humanoid shapes moving in the dark while lifting himself up against the tentacle. He fell against the tentacle slipping further into the grip. Or was it the other way around? The tentacle slipping up further against his chest that it now was under his arms. Then he was tossed into the air and fell back down with a short startled scream only to be caught by two tentacles that pressed his arms against his side and his legs were forced to stop moving. He struggled trying to wiggle himself out of the grip only to realize it was a failed effort and very exhausted. As though he had been beaten up by one too many body blows from the universe after his mistake had come back to haunt him with his back against the wall.

There was a red light that sizzled soaring past Smith. Unmistakenable red sizzling electricity that dropped some liquefied bolts dripping down to the floor leaving behind a puddle. The alien fled down the hall as Smith tried to get a look at what was happening. A blue ball of light struck the side of another alien. There were loud, clear precise laser blasts from behind Smith. Smith closed his eyes feeling his stomach twist and turn twisting itself up sending the contents of what remained of dinner up his throat while being shaken from side to side. Smith lunged his head forward letting go of a jet that landed down to the floor. Smith felt sick closing his eyes feeling very disturbed and hungry. His stomach loudly growled pleading for food. Food that he may have the luxury of having. The delicate golden thread of hope grew bright in his mind outshining the darkness. The alien fell with a blast and the grip around his figure slacked letting him unroll out of the tentacle down the corridor.

He bolted down the hall then hid against a corner and regained his breath.

Smith looked over the edge to see a oncoming alien crash to the floor earning a startled shriek as he stepped back.

He turned away then made a run for it down the hall taking twist and turns noticing wall paneling from above him.

Smith ran up the side additions easily making it to the top jumping onto the pipes that hung on the cieling with light fixtures.

Light returned into the station as Smith lowered himself down onto the pipes covering his mouth to keep his whimpering at bay.

Smith panted regaining his bearings lowering his head onto the pipes. How was he going to get down from this one? Obviously, his reluctant rescuer had to be the young West. Smith was still on the pipes and silent. He saw the aliens were rushing underneath him going in different directions. He saw Franklin being taken down one of the corridors. Now, if only he had a grip on the spears as a means to protect himself. All the corridors were the same and there were high chances that he was being taken to a execution chamber. He turned over to his side encountering loud, obnoxious pain. He draped a arm off the side of the pipes and reached out for the passing spear. He yanked it up without alarming the alien. He moved on to his back looking up toward the spear with a pea tip. Smith couldn't go back to Earth without someone collaborating his story. He had been ridiculed too much about his last story in space, not believed, his name unjustified slandered because of it. Now, to find the execution chamber. That was a very tricky, problematic issue.

It wasn't problematic if he followed them. Smith placed the spear into his right hand to the side then lifted himself up to his feet and crawled down the pipes quite with speed. His hips stung at each pull that was taken going after the man struggling fiercely to get out of the grip. What was going to happen? Get captured again? The chances were high, but he couldn't go without the young man. It was likely that they could very well die with this train of sequences and it was a acceptable outcome, trying all they could to retrieve each other, much as he was puzzled by the man's insistence to rescue him, it was in the young man's best interest to return to Earth and live out the rest of his life surrounded by familiar beings. Will and Don would have made him go along on the break out mission. It would have been a order, but a order from family, and hope that they would get out of the station quite alive. That was all he needed.

Hope.

Hope that things were going to get better.

God knew Smith deserved a little bit of that.

Things were going to get better for him.

Something that he told himself for the last twenty-one years for every day and it never did. There were some bright side to this situation. This one was going to get better one way or another. He wasn't going to watch another West die before his eyes. That much was very certain. The power went off as soon as the aliens stopped in their tracks coming to a stop in front of a doorway. The execution chamber hadn't been that far away as he had thought. Smith slipped himself halfway off the bars then fired back at the aliens firing two times receiving a high pitched wail in return. He sent the aliens tumbling back as he fired a second time. This time the interior of the squid's body was forced open exposing their physiology dropping Franklin to the ground in one grip. Smith rolled off the bars landing to his feet with a thud. He used the larger tentacle to get up to his feet.

"I should really say-"

Smith flicked the younger man's hand off his shoulder then glared as he turned toward his direction in the pitch black then aimed at him. The young man ducked and a jet of energy flew out of the spear hurling toward the oncoming aliens. Franklin picked up the neighboring spear. He took out the small blue touch screen outlined in blue from his pocket as Smith fired on multiple times in the direction of the oncoming aliens. Franklin slipped the object back into his pocket with the memory of the map hanging in his mind. The younger man grabbed Smith by the wrist then ran fast as he could. Their hearts were racing in the intense, terrifying escape. Franklin repeatedly fired at the door ahead until there was nothing left but a circular large hole waiting for them to bolt through.

There was the sound of familiar, robotic whirring coming from behind Smith as he turned his attention away from the direction the aliens were coming from. All other sounds became part of the background in a way that was buzzing that could be ignored. It had been twenty-one years since he had heard the noise. A noise that Smith had believed could be forgotten but whatever had been done to his brain simply overrode that basic fact of memory degrade. It had to be a auditory hallucination. Much like Franklin wasn't Don, this had to be a imposter of his dear friend. It is not like Amy had ordered that the reconstruction of a Earthly made Robot and used it for nefarious purposes. He believed these hallucinations had ended a long time ago. And they had not been prominent for the last two decades. The chances of it being a auditory hallucination were resting at zero. The thought struck him: Could it be the genuine article?

They came into the pitch black transport room. Franklin ran until he tripped and fell to his knees letting go of the elderly man's hand. Smith stumbled down to his feet once tripping over the unexpected elevated surface landing onto his side. There was a flash of pain coming from his left hip earning a grimace. Franklin propped himself up as his eyes adjusted to the pitch black. Smith saw a set of red lights whirring over toward the back end of the room. Smith brought himself up to his feet walking over the platform using the spear as his support. Franklin surveyed the scene ahead getting up to his feet on his own. Smith leaned the spear against his chest then rubbed his eyes and stared at the familiar figure. The familiar long arms, the forms of claws, the bent over figure, the circular head, and the bulky chest model. If he were to believe it were real then that would mean the Robinsons were alive one way or another. He saw a green glow coming from the figure but unable to hear what was being said as if it were whispering to itself.