"How dare you insult me like that!" Smith said, visibly hurt. "Shoo, go help your most respectable colleague find their corpses, you are no better than him when you talk like that." Smith shook the spoon back at the younger man who stepped back from the soup. He shook his head then took another sip from the spoon closing his eyes and gently swayed from side to side closing his eyes in a pleased manner. "Hmmm, deee-licious."

"Can I --" Hamall reached his hand out.

"No," Smith smacked the man's hand with the long, steaming spoon. Smith shook the spoon at Hamall. "it's poison," The spoon flung bits of soup each time it was shaken. "you uncivilized paranoid nutcase."

Smith leaned the spoon against the edge then tipped the sliding option up from the crock pot.

"I don't want to eat emergency rations," Hamall said.

"How it must suck for you," Smith said, shaking his left hand up with his index finger up in a good mood.

"And I am not uncivilized," Hamall said. "Perfectly civilized."

Smith shifted away from the bowl of steaming soup with a sharp, exasperated glare with a face that held all the years of what life treated him in the last three decades.

"What kind of gentlemen accuses a old man of poisoning good soup?" Smith asked.

"You made your point," Hamall said. "Goddamn you, Mr Smith."

Smith tilted his head, raising his eyebrows.

"Another condemnation after thirty years?" Smith said, placing his cuffed hands along his ear then waved his right hand in front of his face with a smile. "Music to my ears."

Smith loudly sang to himself as the young man went over to the large backpack set near the olive tent.

Flicks of red landed in the soup occasionally from a unknown source during the stirring. Smith sliced off the skin to the potatoes with ease then carefully cut them into slices. He put them into the pot then resumed stirring stirring the occasional spice and waving the scent up from above the uncovered soup singing quite lively to himself. Smith opened the dishware backpacks set alongside the crock pot then popped them open taking out the sets of plates along with spoons. He set each spot up one by one as Hamall eyed him cautiously setting up the chairs. Smith returned to the crock pot then gazed at both ways to see that Hamall was busy making each seat be neat and orderly. Smith took out several metal cups and disposed the soup into each one of them but sparing a glance over toward where the bubble was inbetween.

He covered the dark gray cups then slid the steaming cups into the backpack. Minutes later the crew returned to the scene. Most of the crewmembers had their path away from Smith and the steaming soup. Smith poured himself a large bowl of soup before the Robinsons's eyes then moved himself over to the square small table away from them. Madalyn slid the chair in to the table then returned back to the officer's table. The convict picked up his spoon then dipped it into the soup that he sipped in. All the officer's eyes were set on watching him take sip after sip in silence. Watson looked at his team in confusion then back toward Smith and turned his attention onto the warm, waiting soup. They had their plates with their emergency rations which struck at him as odd. It was very confusing that his team refused to go near the soup.

"What is wrong with the soup?" Watson asked.

"Mr Smith put something in it and he hasn't died after a taste test," Hamall said.

"He is immune to it," Kenanan said.

"Or maybe it's not poisoned," Madalyn said, watching him take another sip from the spoon. "Perfectly good soup."

Smith leaned back into his chair, pleased, taking another sip from the spoon.

"Course it is," Watson said, narrowing his eyes toward the old man.

"I met a cowboy who looked just like me called Zeno," Smith said, stirring his soup with a spoon. "Dead by now, obviously," he held the spoon up as Hamall and the other officers held their breath. "at his old age can't be running around and escaping the sheriff at every turn much longer." he pointed toward the night sky. "It's a funny story how we first encountered."

"Oh boy, here we go again with that story," Don said, as Watson eyed Smith suspiciously.

"That wasn't one of the most pleasant times," Maureen agreed.

"Remember the one time we meet a anxious doppleganger of Smith?" John asked. "The one with the rabbit ears?"

"Half lop ear," Don said. "It was just three weeks ago. Not fun chasing them down."

"Constantly eating carrots," Penny said. "And he kept thumping his foot before the cryostasis pod froze."

"That is something I am glad I don't have to see again," John said. "Felt like I was going to go mad."

"Go on," Carly said, waving a hand at the silently eating convict. "Tell us."

"One moment, madame," Smith took a sip from his spoon then closed his eyes and grew a smile. "MMhmmhmm," the elderly man lowered the spoon down to the bowl. "aahhhh," he opened his eyes facing the small group. "perfection."

"How can you not die because of your own makings, Mr Smith?" Sanchisko asked, tossing several chicken legs to the dog from under the table.

"Because he has to pay for them," Watson added.

"Quite dearly," Carly said.

"Will and I were out collecting rocks for a task that the professor had given us," He took another sip. "It terrified us at first the way the galactic law enforcement machine had landed and abruptly quarantined the place," he took another sip from the bowl. "Running off was the logical thing to do when it comes to running amok killers on the loose. You would have done the same--screamed, if it was your counterparts that you came face to face. One timid, one very evil, separated by a field like a mirror. Having to switch clothes with him was the most physical slander I had to go through and---he had so many scars all over him. Being a outlaw for him must be more dangerous than the life I used to lead. I admire him for having courage to live his fantasy. Never could violate the oath that blindly."

"There are people you've wronged on Earth who have argued otherwise," Watson said.

"That was before the Robinsons," Smith challengingly cocked a brow then took another sip from the spoon.

"You intentionally brought danger to their doorstep whenever you could," Watson said, his fingers breaking the pieces of the bar into pieces staring long and hard at the unnerved man. "You were never a doctor."

"Just because I have lost my license and had my doctorate revoked after my return doesn't mean I can stop caring about people," Smith said, holding a spoon full up of the soup with a tilt of his head then took another sip. He briefly closed his eyes satisfied then opened them facing the group. "Ah, where was I?"

"You were fondly gushing about your respect for Zeno," Madalyn said.

The other members of the rescue team had a light hearted laugh except for Watson.

"Right, right, right," Smith said, nodding his head then tapped on his chin.

"Go on," Hamall said.

"Could you blame me?" he lowered the spoon into the bowl then cupped his hands together sprawling them out. "I was faced with a gun!" Smith took a couple more spoonfuls of the soup. "I never intended to bring William along for the ride. I would have done with the boy not being there at all. Being told what would happen to me after I was in the jail cell was nerve wrecking and terrifying."

"You weren't afraid when you murdered them," Watson said.

"Can you stop ruining the party, Major Watson?" Smith asked, glaring back in the man's direction.

"I find it difficult to believe that you cared about them so dearly," Watson said. "but you never, not once, talked to people about them."

"They had the professor's log for reference," Smith said. "Tried and convicted in the public eye. I tried telling everyone a story about the Robinsons and look what happened!" he gestured toward his cuffs.

"Because of the evidence," Watson said. "Innocent men don't keep the truth back about their victims. Make people stomachs turn knowing what you did, all the while knowing their fates, and being very angry."

"They have every right to be angry," Smith said, then glanced toward the clearing where they had vanished then up toward the tree. "They are the best moment of my life that I left behind as a spineless and pathetic coward."

The anger that he had toward himself became apparent in his voice. The raw self-hatred seemed like it had been revealed for all to see from his tone. Parts of his hurt stood out from his eyes in ways that they hadn't seen since stepping foot on this planet. Hamall seemed to be moved by the man's admission. Something that Madalyn seemed to be touched, but a red flag went up in her mind noticing how he talked in present tense. Bobellis wore a concerned look like the one spreading on Wyrt's face. Madalyn looked toward the direction that he had looked then she leaned back into the chair wearing a puzzled expression. Watson rolled his eyes.

"Like you cherished them," Watson said.

Smith's blue eyes swept over toward Watson replaced with a glare.

"My memories of them are the only belongings I can take with me these days," Smith said.

"That and your pocket watch," Madalyn said, then Smith gravely nodded.

"So excuse me for finally being comfortable sharing the last cherished thing I have in this life with OTHER people, Major Watson!" Smith continued. Carly placed a hand on Watson's shoulder then he looked over toward Carly getting a 'you should stop antagonizing the convict' look. Watson turned his attention back onto the old man. Smith stared long and hard at the reactionless Watson then it occurred to the convict. "You are jealous that I got to have adventures with the Robinsons for so long."

The meatless chicken leg was picked up from the dog's mouth placed into a bag.

"I am not jealous," Watson replied, as Smith bolted up from the chair then leaned onto the table holding on to his spoon.

"Only a jealous man says that!" Smith shouted, his spoon flung bits of soup on the table with each word splattering it in vegetables. "DENIAL, ANGER, SHEER ARROGANCE that had I not been there they would have gotten to Alpha Centauri!" the pieces of soup landed on Watson's face. "It is not like you're related to Professor Robinson in some way I don't know about." The younger man and older man shared a piercing glare toward each other that could kill.

There was silence between them.

"Major Watson, Mr Smith," Kenanan said. "How about we eat and forget about this?"

Watson sat down.

"If anything," Watson said. "I am a pissed off man. That is all I am."

"You're more than that," Madalyn said.

Smith sat back down, quietly, back into his seat. He took bite after bite after bite staring back at Watson chewing and swallowing bits of soup carrying them down his throat. Smith got up then returned to the steaming pot then put in another helping inside the bowl then moved quickly to the table. Smith returned over retrieving a bottle of water then sat back at his seat. The officers eyes were getting and bigger as Smith ate in silence. Watson stabbed his fork into the Chinese food with a loud, hard glare. Smith picked up where he left off after coming back for the third seating down against the chair and their jaws fell seeing that he was still alive.

"And then I had a really good drink," Smith continued, as Hamall got himself a helping. "The town I came across. . . You would need a shot for."

"Like I would," Watson said.

"Buildings in space don't follow typical logic," Smith said, with a smile. "Never found out why."

"Maybe the rooms exist in a pocket dimension and they are complying with Galactic law?" Hamall asked. "One half of the store must be visible for consumers."

"I never thought of it that way," Smith said. He had hands cupped under his chin tapping his index finger on to his chin looking up toward the sky fondly as the images flickered like a reel on a tape in his blue eyes seemingly distant. He looked down toward the table, sadly smiling. "It could explain away that much."

"Say," Carly asked, seating down as the others began to eat the soup. "why didn't you apply for senior prison retirement home last year?"

"I was rejected," Smith said.

"What kind of tongue do you have, Mr Smith?" Hamall asked, lowering the spoon. "This is spicy." Sanchisko elbow jabbed Hamall. "And surprisingly refreshing."

"The best tongue there is," Smith said, with a small smile then took another sip from the spoon.

"What kind of recipe were you following?" Hamall asked. "Love to hear it."

"The Smith secrets," Smith said. "It's a family affair," his eyes met the younger man. "For someone who watched me make it, it's not much of a secret."

"I wasn't paying attention," Hamall said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Mr Smith, isn't that soup bad for your cholesterol?" Watson asked, getting up from his seat then walked around the stiffening man. The hair all over Smith raised in a way flinching when Watson placed a finger on him that made Smith want to puke. "I heard it raises your chances at having a heart attack."

Smith took a sigh then lowered the spoon.

"After I finish this tale," Smith said, then glared toward Watson. "I am not done yet, you lying narcissistic elderly abuser." He shook his index finger at the man who walked past him back over toward his seat. "Not done yet!"

"Like I am a abuser," Watson said. "The psychologists are right. You are delusional."

"I like to wipe that know-it-all off his face," Don said.

"Perfectly sane," Smith said, protested as though the fight from him was no longer there, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Mr Smith," Madalyn said. "Please, stop." For your sake.