Our Friends and Neighbors
Disclaimer: Space: 1999 is the property of ITC, or Carlton. Or somebody who isn't me. This story was written for entertainment purposes only. I own none of their characters or situations. This is, like always, only for fun.
Moonbase Alpha Status Report, Dr. Helena Russell recording. This will be the last status report I file from the moonbase. Construction of basic housing and a few rudimentary buildings has been completed in our new settlement, and I, along with half of the residents of the base, are set to leave for our new home early this afternoon. Commander Koenig and a staff will remain here for a few more weeks, closing down and dismantling the base. We will need every resource available to us to ensure our survival on this new planet.
In the past months, it has become clear that Alpha can no longer protect or sustain us. Had we not gone into orbit around this planet's sun, we would likely only have lasted another six months at the most. All of us know how lucky we are to have not only found a home, but to be able to establish our community in stages.
Our initial surveys showed evidence that there has been civilization here at one point. As yet, we've seen no evidence of other intelligent life. There are large herd animals, fish, and flocks of birds. We are taking the chance that if there is another civilization here, it will be a friendly one.
I will continue to keep a journal of our progress from our new home. After all, it is a continuation of our journey, and one well worth recording. We will miss Alpha, but not the hardship or danger of living in space. We know our new life will not be without its challenges, but all of us – the 280 of us who have survived this journey – are now optimistic about our ability to thrive in our new home.
John Koenig squinted into the late afternoon sun, a warm breeze ruffling his hair. He was looking for his Chief Medical Officer, Helena Russell, but a quick survey of the camp told him she wasn't there. Curious, he turned toward a small building at the edge of camp – Alpha's new infirmary – and her colleague, Bob Mathias.
He found the senior physician stretched out under a desk, running cable from a piece of diagnostic equipment to a computer terminal on the work surface above him. The hum of a generator, just outside the building, told John that Life Support had some of the electricity up and running.
"Have you seen Helena?" he asked Bob's legs, and the other man scooted out from under the desk to regard his commander with surprise.
"She said she was going for a walk. She's been at it for two days straight, so I told her to take a break."
John grinned. "Was she getting prickly?"
"She was more than a little irritable, yes." Bob chuckled. "I can't say I blame her, though. It's going to take a while to get this place operational."
John sighed. "I know. Baby steps, I guess. As long as we can stay warm and dry we'll be okay." He shifted on his feet, trying to keep his own exhaustion at bay. "Did you see which way she went?"
"Toward the lake, I think."
"Thanks," John said, starting for the door. "You should take a break yourself, you know. Rome wasn't built in a day."
"I will. As soon as I can get this terminal up and running." Bob got to his feet, pocketing his screwdriver, and booted up the computer. "I think we should have left Microsoft behind at Breakaway," he muttered, and John laughed, waving as he stepped through the door.
John found Helena sitting on the rocky shore of the lake, her face tilted up to the sun. He stood and watched her for a moment, drinking in the features he knew he wouldn't see for weeks once he went back up to Alpha. He was often amazed by how little she had really aged during their years in space. He did not think the same was true for him.
"Hey," he said, and she turned to look at him, slightly surprised. "Want some company?"
Her face relaxed in a smile, and she nodded, patting the ground beside her. "How did you find me?"
"Bob," he said, sitting down. "He said you needed a break."
She laughed, softly. "Tattle-tail."
John slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him. "He was right."
Helena sighed, leaning against him. "Yeah. We all need a break." She squinted a little, watching the waves lap against the shore.
"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching to smooth her hair back from her face. It was longer now, brushing against her shoulders as she turned her head. He wondered suddenly if he'd ever told her he liked it that way. Helena smiled at him, weary, and nodded. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. It's just overwhelming sometimes." She paused, and John knew she was stopping herself from telling him what was really on her mind. He squeezed her shoulders, gently, as if prompting her, and she smiled again. "And I wish you were staying here with me."
John sighed, nodding. "So do I."
"I'm not saying that to make you feel guilty."
He kissed her forehead. "I know you aren't. I feel the same way."
She looked away suddenly, concentrating on the frayed edge of the sleeve of her uniform, her shoulders hunching, before she cleared her throat and looked back at him. "I'm being selfish. Sorry."
"At least I know you'll miss me." He drew his knees up, resting his forearms on them. "What do you think of the view from your new clinic?"
"I love it," she said, her posture relaxing suddenly. "It's incredible. All the views are incredible. The sunrises make it all worth it."
"Yeah, they do, don't they?" He shifted a little, his arm snaking around her shoulders, and Helena leaned against him. "Maybe this time next year we'll be watching them from our own house."
"Maybe. That would be nice." She closed her eyes for a moment. "A year from now seems so far away."
John nodded, kissing the top of her head. "Tell me about it."
Three days after John left, the wind turned cold. The Alphans watched as the green grasses dried up and turned brown. Strange birds flew overhead; a group went out hunting one morning and brought back fowl as large as turkeys. Helena found two men scalding and plucking the birds, and that night they had what tasted like roast turkey. The cooks had saved everything, and made turkey soup that lasted for days. No one complained about leftovers.
The clinic was up and running, as basic as it was. Helena, Ed Spencer, and the nurse who had accompanied them, Amanda Godwin, spent much of their time testing equipment and finding new ways to make their resources go the farthest. They had long ago run out of bandages, and they were all anxious to find a way to grow cotton to replenish the supply. That, Helena knew, would have to wait until spring. For now, as it had been on Alpha, everything was fair game when it was needed. She sometimes felt as if she ran a laundry service, specializing in the cleaning and sterilization of strips of fabric.
Satellite transmissions were what Sandra Benes termed "flaky" at the best of times, so Helena and John corresponded over e-mail that occasionally reached its destination on the same day it was sent.
The tear-down is taking longer than we'd thought, John wrote her one night. I hadn't counted on the loads our Eagles can carry – Alan is working on refinements to some of the cargo holds. We are stripping everything we can – insulation, wallboard, switches. Demolition is a lot more difficult when you have to be careful. At least there's good news from your end – Tony tells me the storage buildings are pretty much finished.
All Helena could think to write, huddled in her tiny quarters as a cold wind howled around the eaves, was: Come back soon.
Two days later, a blizzard swept through the tiny settlement, and satellite transmissions were blocked completely. The group couldn't even get their comlocks to work between buildings. It was like the pioneer stories she'd read as a child – the snow was blowing so hard Helena could barely see her hand in front of her face.
The wind blew her into the canteen that night, when she followed a rope from the Medical Center to the building next door in search of food. She found Tony Verdeschi sitting alone at a table, eating a plate of stew and drinking something she strongly suspected wasn't water or coffee. His eyes were red-rimmed, his skin chapped from long days outdoors.
"Hi, Tony," she said, stopping beside him.
He looked up at her, smiling tiredly. "Helena. What made you leave the cosy confines of your quarters?"
Helena nodded in the direction of the fireplace. "The thought of a roaring fire," she said. "I was feeling nostalgic for my old home."
Tony nodded, taking a long pull from his drink. "Well, have a seat."
Helena sat, feeling mildly uneasy. She rarely found that she had anything in common with Tony. She knew John liked him, but she'd always felt Tony quick to judge, that his hot temper had landed them in trouble on more than one occasion.
As she pushed her stew around on her plate, Helena decided she needed to be more charitable with Tony. He did, after all, treat Maya well. So when he offered her a "nip" from the flask he kept in his pocket, she suppressed the rebuke that hovered on her lips and instead pushed her coffee cup toward him. It was a cold night, after all, and none of them were working. And it would take the edge of the disgusting substitute for coffee that she'd never been able to get used to.
She could not suppress the expression that invaded her features as the drink burned its way down her throat. She swallowed hard, her eyes watering, and tried to smile at him. "What is that? Eagle fuel?"
Tony laughed. "Close." He sniffed his glass. "It's not really about the flavor, Helena. It's about the warmth in your toes."
"Is that what you all drink at those poker games?" John had rolled in late once or twice in the last year, jovial and smelling of alcohol. He rarely indulged in excess, insisting that his head had to remain clear in case of an emergency, but every once in a while the stress would get to him and Helena would insist he take some time for himself. Inevitably, he would spend the evening with Alan and Tony, and the rest, as they say, would be history.
"How did you know?" Now Tony grinned at her. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."
Helena took another sip, letting it burn a path down her throat. She wondered how much you'd have to drink to get used to it, and then she surreptitiously found herself studying Tony. He had always liked to drink, it wasn't until now that she'd ever questioned how much or how often.
"Maya tells me you want to start a vineyard in the spring," she said after a moment, making a conscious decision to ignore whatever signs she thought she saw.
Tony nodded. "If there's time. It'll be hard work, but we're used to that. And we're planting crops anyway. It's not like we won't have the land." He sighed. "It's just so bloody much work right now, getting this place up and running."
"I know."
"Did Maya also tell you she's going back up to Alpha tomorrow?"
Helena's brows shot up in surprise. "No. She didn't."
Tony nodded. "They need her help dismantling Computer, apparently. It's more finicky than they thought." He paused. "I'm surprised John didn't mention it."
"He didn't. He only said demolition was taking a long time. I haven't received anything from him today. Sahn said the satellite feeds were down."
Tony was silent, filling his glass again.
"Tony, I'm sure John wouldn't ask her to go back up there if he didn't need her."
"No." He sighed. "You're right. I guess I'm just tired of bloody Alpha coming before everything else."
Helena nodded, suddenly understanding. Her heart sank as she watched him, and she turned her attention to the fire. She knew better than anyone what it meant for Alpha to come first – Alpha had come before everything for her and John – it had determined when they started their relationship, how much time they'd spent together, and when they would marry. It had been the source of their most passionate and violent arguments. It had been the very thing that had brought them together, and it was the thing that kept them apart.
"I hope," she said, after a moment, "that when we're all settled here, there will be less of that."
There was no mistaking the bitterness in Tony's voice. "That day's a long way off, if you ask me."
Helena was stamping the snow from her shoes the next morning, blinking away the stars that peppered her vision as her eyes recovered from the blinding whiteness of the snow outside, when the door flew open behind her. Two of the construction crew nearly knocked her over as they came through the door – the shorter of the two, Adam Melville, caught her arm to keep her from falling.
"Dr. Russell. We weren't sure if you were here yet," Melville gasped. "We need you to come with us."
"What's the matter? Is someone hurt?"
Melville nodded. "We found something. In the snow near the lake."
"Someone," the other man, Harry Stuart, corrected. "We found someone."
"Let me grab my medical kit," she said, turning for her office. She stopped on her way back to reception to pick up a couple of thermal blankets, then pulled on her gloves and nodded at the two men. "Let's go. We'll need the buggy and a stretcher if we're going to bring them back."
Stuart paused, a hand on the doorknob. "I don't know if you're going to want to do that," he said.
"For God's sake, of course I am. I'm not going to leave them in the snow." Helena stared at him, incredulous.
"I think you should take a look, first," said Melville, stepping through the door. Confused, Helena followed, climbing onto the back of the buggy.
The figure was lying on the shore of the lake, a black heap on the snowy shale of the beach. Helena felt her stomach lurch as she jumped off the buggy, knowing immediately that this person was not one of them. She felt Stuart catch her arm, slowing her pace, but she shrugged free and moved toward the inert figure.
She reached out a cautious hand to touch the body, surprised at the cold she felt under her fingers. Her hand closed around what she thought was an arm, and she turned the body slowly toward her, shifting it onto its back. The flesh was stiff and unyielding, but the body rolled, and Helena held her breath as she brushed the snow away from its head, pushing a black hood aside to reveal pale, smooth skin.
"Is it alive?" Stuart asked.
"I'm not sure," Helena muttered, reaching for her kit. "Can you get the stretcher, please?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw Stuart move, but Melville stood fast, and when she turned to him she saw his features twisted in distaste.
"You aren't going to bring it back, are you?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "I am. I might be able to save its life." She reached for her scanner and fumbled for the tests she wanted – her numb fingers were refusing to co-operate in the cold. After a moment she sat back on her heels; there was a heartbeat, slow and barely detectable. She looked up at the men. "Come on," she said. "We have to get back to Medical."