Preface:

In the original SPACE: 1999 novel, Rogue Planet, author E.C. Tubb sets up a very interesting consequence. The Alphans, under the influence of an alien power, have nightmarish hallucinations.

Kano sees himself as a warrior-priest.

In Helena's nightmare, she is attacked by a monster.

A patient in her ward - Ivor Khokol - is a soldier, possibly from ancient Rome, coming home to his woman. It might be noted that Ivor is also attracted to Dr. Russell. Earlier in the story, while flying through space, he sees her features limbed against the stars …

Then there is Commander John Koenig who experiences an ultimate horror. He sees himself as dead, grieving and roaming Moonbase Alpha. The base is demolished and only he remains to witness the aftermath of the disaster that destroyed all he holds dear.

It is this final sequence that I found most interesting and would have liked to saw it expanded upon - or even made real. No, I have no deep desire to witness our Alphans destruction but the concept itself is so harrowing that it could make an odd and interesting bridge.

I will leave it there and you, happy reader, can decide if this work is well done, merely an honest but failed effort, or … freaky. If the last, it can fit into either category. J

Sincerely,

Becky

Wandering

He sat in his chair in Main Mission, as he did every night at this time, with his eyes closed. He knew once he grew conscious he would be forced to do it again. And again. He would wander Moonbase Alpha, as a ghost, to envision what his hapless orders had wrought. Yes, he brought this to the moonbase, to his people, and to the diminishing hope – for a home - they had all cherished.

The voices did not come into his head as they once had; the accusing cries of his people, the screams and sobs of agony and despair. He long ago decided it was a cerebral manifestation. After all, he and his people in Main Mission were the first to die. He would have heard nothing that followed …

Slowly, his eyes blinked open and John Koenig looked up at the shattered windows and jagged hole that had ripped through the ceiling of Main Mission, letting the air out. He had a very vague recollection of bodies soaring about when the pressure let loose but that stopped when compression equalized.

And, of course, he was dead by the time the bodies had settled.

He stood and glanced down at his own corporal frame, face down on the floor, hands splayed wide, one lying limp and broken over a step. He then looked – as he did every evening - to where Kano and Professor Bergman lay. The computer technician was a peculiar shade of gray under his dark skin, a snarl parting his lips. The scientist was pale but seemed oddly at peace, eyes closed, with his head lying across an outstretched arm.

Victor, their brilliant head of the science department, was his best friend on Alpha and seemed to understand his Commander, his doubts and fears, better than anyone else. John missed Victor's wisdom and friendship just as he missed Kano's friendly superiority and zest for life.

The Commander stepped down into the brain of Moonbase Alpha and glanced fleetingly at Paul and Sandra. In death they were facing each other, where they lay on the floor. John always felt a deep melancholy when he looked at the couple. They never had the chance to love each other properly.

None of them had.

Koenig closed his eyes and gulped a little. After all this time, drifting though Alpha a countless number of times, the thought of what he lost still made him visibly mourn. Of course, that was the point, correct? He was in purgatory, walking about Alpha for hours, devastated and viewing his friends and loved ones – all gone.

This was his penitence.

He staggered from Main Mission, avoiding a couple of fallen operatives, although he had come to realize he truly had no form. The Commander was a spirit and could walk right through his dead people without even wrinkling a tunic sleeve. Still, out of respect, he purposely watched his movements.

The Eagle hanger.

Slowly, he wandered, side-stepping the personnel who died there; the pretty Chinese girl who still clutched a clipboard, Lancaster who appeared to have tried to make it inside of Eagle Three before the section blew. He also saw that man from Security. What was his name? Koenig could not remember.

And finally, for some reason, Tanya was here – perhaps to see Alan – before death took her, crushing her attractive skull, her eyes wide and stunned.

The Commander looked further in.

Always, before he left, Koenig made a point of finding Captain Carter. By some means, when all had gone to hell, Alan found himself sitting at his own command desk in the area, apparently giving orders before he was dispatched. Alan would hate that he did not meet his end while flying; what he loved best. The pilot was still as stone – white and nearly waxy looking - and his head was cocked in an odd position. Koenig always wondered if it was the depressurization of the section that snapped his neck or had someone killed Alan, in a panic, before death claimed them all?

Taking one last look about, John sighed and moved on.

It was the same universally; Hydroponics, Technical, Weapons Section – death and destruction. The vilest area was in the lower levels. Those who escaped there died of suffocation but, before this, some had grown terrified, went mad, and took their own lives. Laser burns on uniforms, slashing of wrists and throats … Blood everywhere.

By the stairs he travel up and down on, Koenig always glanced at a man, Burns was his name, and he held a small woman by the arms, seemingly to calm her terror, and both were impaled by a fallen beam, through his back and her abdomen.

Koenig's ghost never stayed long in the bowels of Moonbase Alpha.

And finally, on his return trip to Main Mission, he would at first stop by his own quarters and touch the name plate. He could not feel anything, his form not being of solid mass. His hand often pushed right through the solid door. He never went inside. There was never any point. He did not want to see such a personal demolition.

Then, for his last stop, John Koenig slowly walked to and inside Medical Center. He hated this more than anything else during his wandering … but he also longed for it.

In a back office Bob Mathias lay lifeless but appeared far more at peace than most. It wasn't until Koenig really looked at him, many weeks after his first roving, that he realized the doctor had given himself an injection, the hypodermic resting on the floor at his feet. He had killed himself with an overdose of buprenorphine. The terror the normally brave Dr. Mathias endured must have been significant. If he had witnessed what happened in the outer area, or had come in to observe the aftermath, or even treated patient after deranged patient - he may have had good reason to end it all.

Koenig turned about, bracing himself as he always did, and looked at her.

She was covered now but he knew what lay beneath.

Sprawled, torn, uniform rumpled, pants pulled down on the left side of her hip, her chest was exposed, a slashing – almost like claws – had parted the material of her tunic, wounding her deeply across her upper chest and ending halfway between the valley of her once lovely breasts. Blood and slime splattered her uniform and hair, her lips were parted but not in a scream but possibly a small cry; a whimper of unbelieving or surrender. Her eyes were once open but silent with explanation. If only he could look into them and see what had happened!

Or, no. His imagination had taken him to horrible places …

Helena appeared to have been attacked by a wild animal … or a wild man? But the only other being in the ward was Ivor Khokol, who was in a coma when he last saw him, and he lay in a crumpled heap a little further away from her. He must have awakened and assaulted Helena, possibly even tried to rape her, but she fought back, using her medical knowledge to save herself, and she killed him … but not before he battered her beyond all endurance and injured the woman mortally. Yet, that did not explain the slime and slashing on her body. There were no weapons visible. What … How …?

After a while it did not matter. He stopped asking himself questions that had no answers. The more he thought about it … the more he really did not want to know.

Instead, Koenig sat on the floor and stared at her beautiful, unmarked face. The rest of her might be the object of her or his worst nightmare but Helena's face remained unchanged, beautiful and clear. If he stared long enough he could almost hear her speak to him. It was a fantasy brought about by loneliness, of course. Helena Russell would never talk with anyone anymore. But then he'd lie beside her, on his side, and talk to the woman. He'd tell her how sorry he was night after night; speak of wants and dreams.

Why had he never said, while she was still alive, the words that would let her know how he felt about her?

Once, a long while ago, four aliens came to the drifting moon after the destruction. Their small craft landed on the surface and Koenig watched them, followed them as they too wandered Alpha, their heavy spacesuit not unlike what the Alphans wore but, perhaps, were slightly less bulky. The aliens were systematically curious and talked with each other in a language Koenig did not understand.

Part of him felt it was an invasion of privacy while another part welcomed his unaware company. If only they could hear him speak.

In Main Mission, the creatures listened to the Commander's last broadcast. Koenig, over an alien's shoulder, watch himself plea for mercy, asking the extraterrestrial "brain" in their midst to understand they could not turn their moon around. Its journey was not in his or anyone else's control. Then there was a shout from Morrow and, although it could not be seen, the top of Main Mission was blown. After this, the recording merely consisted of screams of horror from himself and everyone in Main Mission – then utter silence. The aliens looked at one another, sadly. Koenig wondered if they understood his final words or if they were coming to their own conclusions.

The aliens split into groups of two and Koenig followed the twosome who stayed on the upper levels. One of them seemed like a command figure and he could relate to that. After perfunctory checks of hardware, composts, and inspecting a few quarters on the upper level floors, they finally found themselves in Medical Center.

At first removed, they did not look at the dead bodies but at medical monitors and consoles. The second alien went into Helena's office and listened to some of her status recordings. Koenig relished the opportunity to hear her voice, even if it was from long ago. When he came out he spoke to the command alien and they both looked down at her where she lay on the floor. There seemed to be a connection of some kind, perhaps recognizing Dr. Russell as a woman of some importance.

The alien in command crouched down and, in a respectful manner, closed her half-open eyes. He then motioned to the other and he brought over a blanket.

Koenig remembered feeling panic at that moment.

They covered her, body and face. It had been a sign of esteem but all Koenig could think about was that he would never be able to look at her again. However, as if by a miracle, the command alien pulled back the cover to reveal her unmarked face only. The aliens looked at one another and nodded.

Koenig wondered if in some strange way he may have passed his grief feelings onto the aliens and they did his bidding, hiding the bad but leaving the good. He would never know.

Finally, after many hours, the scavenging creatures left Alpha and Koenig watched them depart with items of interest, their small spaceship lifting up off of the moon's surface and twirling about on their way home …

… ah, to go home.

Koenig sighed and stood, looking down once again at Helena on the floor. He could either stay or go back to Main Mission. It did not truly matter. If he stayed by the next cycle he would find himself returned to Alpha's nucleus, waiting for this wandering to start all over again.

"John."

He stood still, stunned by the voice. This had happened before, while lying on the floor next to Helena. During one of his rotations he imagined he saw her turn and she spoke to him. That was long ago, when this horror started and he felt himself frantic with unchecked loneliness.

"John."

Shaking, he turned ever so slightly and looked at her.

Helena stood tall and clean near a crash-cart, uninjured by the atrocity which beheld them all. She was not the victim of a deranged madman or monster, broken and bloodied forever. She wore a light shimmering gown which was cut somewhat low in the front. There were no claw marks or damaged flesh. Merely smooth skin, luminescent and exquisite.

He wanted so much to reach out and touch her but to do so would make him cave into psychosis. She could not be genuine. The travesty on the floor, as beautiful as she was, told the story. "Go away." He whispered, turning his head away from the vision.

"You don't mean that." she said softly.

"You're dead."

"And so are you. But I've been watching you. Poor humble John Koenig."

He snapped his head in her direction and looked at the delusion once again. Now, she was smiling gently at him. He could not speak. If he stayed silent long enough maybe she would just fade away. He wished for it but – miserably - also hoped she would stay, despite proving that a phantom could go crazy.

"John," she stepped closer, "I'm real. Take my hand." She lifted her own, fingers beckoning him.

If he could breathe Koenig would have gasped for breath. "Don't taunt me." he begged.

"I can't come to you, John. You must come to me." Then, in that low deeply smooth voice he so admired, she said: "Please."

His eyes closed and his jaw trembled. John Koenig, last Commander of Moonbase Alpha, could feel the tears pushing up and threatening to fall. The mental walls he was trying to build were splintering like defective timber. He still did not look at her as he murmured, "I loved you." He could feel her hovering close to him now, could smell her fragrance, the light perfume she wore, and he knew without a doubt that he was weakening.

"I love you too, John." She said, her voice calm but full of emotion. "More than you know."

She was saying this because his crazed mind wanted her to say it, to confirm what he suspected and craved so deeply. While it was not impossible while they were alive it was now merely a cruel demented dream. Oh why … why could he not make her go away?

"Just reach out to me, John." She implored, "Take my hand and you will know I'm not in your imagination." Again she lifted her hand, with her slender fingers, trimmed and glossy fingernails, summoning him.

"Not possible. My hand will pass right through you." He reasoned. What was he saying?

"No. We are both made of flesh and blood. Honestly."

Her mouth was so close to his ear now that Koenig felt he might faint. Was it conceivable? No, he had to gather all his strength to fight the madness thrashing about in his head. Yet, she was so tempting … and he wanted to feel her touch and be engulfed in her scent. She was waiting patiently for him … Helena …. And without another moment hesitation he reached out and grasped her hand - and was startled to feel soft flesh beneath his clasping fingers. Koenig watched with wide eyes as her other hand reached over and gently caressed his knuckled.

He felt warmth and humanity.

This time John Koenig did gasp and he felt air enter into his lungs, a frightening sensation. There was no air on Alpha! He looked to Helena. His mind cried out its consent and the approval and understanding in her expression convinced him it must be true. His other hand reach up to touch her hair, to fall to her slim shoulder, and he could feel the silky material of her gown. "Helena … how?"

"Do you know how long you have been wandering Moonbase Alpha, John?"

"A long time. Decades I would guess." He answered, wondering why it mattered.

Again she smiled and glanced down at their clasped hands. "Longer." She then looked up, meeting his eyes, and Helena said: "John, you have been reliving the same cycle for one thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine years."

"Nineteen ninety-nine." He whispered, astounded. The year the moon broke out of Earth orbit. Had it truly been that long?

"What happened to us was a mistake, John, and it needs correction." She explained, "We were never supposed to die, Alpha destroyed, in outer space. We were to live and thrive. Our progeny were to inhabit planets even as our journey was never ending …"

"Then why did it happen?" he demanded, some nearly forgotten fire returning to the man who was once the Commander of Alpha.

Now it was Helena's turn to appear sad, "Treachery. Rules were broken."

"By us?"

"No, by those who were to protect us and watch us on our passage. They … floundered."

"I don't know what you mean by that, Helena." His grip on her hand tightened.

"I'm not sure I actually know either." Now, she looked at her body on the floor and that of Ivor. "But we were meant for better things, John. Now that the succession has renewed itself we can continue on."

"Continue … How?"

"A second chance." She looked from the bodies back to Koenig. Gently, she lifted a hand and placed it on his left cheek. "We can live again. So many are anxious to return but others will not. It's by choice and design."

Again, Koenig's eyes showed his confusion. "And you?"

"I will be here." She promised, "For you, always." Helena leaned forward and pressed her lips firmly against his.

Mystified and stunned, he nevertheless enjoyed the sweetness of her mouth on his own, softly parting lips, experiencing sensations he never thought to relish again … Koenig could hear her voice in his head: It will be the same yet different.

Perhaps he was mad after all.

As if she had read his thoughts, Helena pulled back and tugged on his hand. "Come with me." And she led him out of Medical Center, down the long hall until they reached his quarters.

They paused and he looked at the name plate.

Koenig reached up and touched it, truly felt it for the first time in nearly two thousand years. It moved him deeply and he might have been satisfied to stand there longer but Helena had a purpose. She touched a button and they watched the doors part.

The room, after so long, looked in remarkably good condition. The compost clock had stopped and grown dark but he expected to see his quarters destroyed. The inconvenience of an inactive compost was minor in the scheme of things. Koenig had always painfully pictured a disaster of tumbled shelving, books and trinkets on the floor - and fallen moon dust over everything; one reason he never elected to go inside. It would have been too painful. Yet, everything had remained upright and spotless. "Why are we here?" he finally asked.

Helena lifted a brow and disengaged his hand.

He watched her silently.

Unhurried, she walked over to a space near his bed, paused, and turned around. She was back lit, the glow softening her features even more, giving Helena the sensuous appearance of a goddess. "We need to make things right, John." she said. Then, with little hesitancy, Helena pulled the grown from her body, allowing it to gently fall onto the cool, tiled floor. She stood before him nude and lifted both arms, hands upward, in a silent gesture of beckoning. "Come to me." She whispered, "Love me."

For only a moment John Koenig paused and wondered if this was a punishing trick of some kind. The beautiful woman of his dreams had kissed and now wanted him wholly, a man who only moments before was a specter. Now she stood before him, glorious in her nakedness, and still he could not fathom how their coupling, in the order of the universe, could make a difference. "Helena …"

"Love me, John." She appealed once again.

Compensation and repentance.

He had served his time. Undeservedly if what Helena said was true. An odd thought but, if accurate, he would accept the apology and reparation offered.

Koenig moved forward and stood before her for a controlled moment then once again lifted his hands to her shoulders, warm and naked, her body and heart wanting him profoundly. Again, his fingers moved to cup Helena's face. Emotion assailed him and he kissed her intensely, feeling Helena's form melt into his own. Clothing was dispensed with and soon he was lifting her onto his bed, touching and exploring, He felt her softly tracing as she fashioned exotic and erotic patterns over his chest, back and abdomen. Meanwhile, he found wonder in the hollow of her neck and deep joy and infinite ecstasy as he cuddled and suckled her perfect breasts.

And finally, when they joined, when he pushed himself inside, there was not just a gasp from her but also from deep within him. The pleasure was nearly too acute, the feel of her body moving with his own, her silky legs caressing the coarse hair of his own … Her touch was that of an ethereal being and John Koenig sobbed as they made love. It was too much but also not enough … and when they finally climaxed, hearing the small cries that parted her lips, he truly knew it was genuine.

Dear God, it had to be real. All of it.

"I love you."

He heard her whisper, those sweet flawless words, before they both fell off to sleep.

"Hey." Her voice was soft but held purpose. "Come on, wake up."

He groaned, mind fuzzy but remembering her exquisite softness in the circle of his arms last evening. He smiled mildly at the memory. "Nah."

"You're going to be late."

John Koenig's eyes flickered opened and he stretched, feeling the tug of the sheet and the delicious strain and pull of his muscles. He then saw, through a fog, that she was leaning tantalizingly over him and he reached for her.

"Oh no." she pulled back ever so slightly, laying hands on his lower arms, as she sat at the edge of the bed, dressed in her uniform and ready for work. "One of us has to show an iota of restraint and professionalism. Although," Helena then, with a soft purr, caressed his firm jaw with a sly finger. "you were spectacularly attentive last night."

"Was I?" He murmured, gently chuckling, then was abruptly struck with something odd. A cold chill traveled up his spine and Koenig registered a vague realization. He quickly sat up and looked about. 'The same but different.' He recognized that Helena was looking at him oddly but was unsure what to say to her.

"John?"

"What space are we in?" he finally asked.

"Off the top of my head I'm not entirely sure. Why?" she asked, now a little alarmed by his disorientation.

He looked about his quarters, clean and organized, and at the ticking clock home in the compost. 7:30 AM. Then, still a little puzzled, Koenig focused on Helena and touched her hair. A little lighter. He felt its texture. Softer. Real. "Nothing." he finally murmured.

"I do know the name of the planet we're approaching." Helena said, "It's called Psychon."

"Psychon?"

"I'm not sure how Tony and Lew discovered the moniker. Maybe an old transmission from a long dead people."

He remembered now, nodding. There was a space warp a few days ago and Alpha traveled six light years from its previous desolate position. It was almost as if an unseen hand had plucked them away from a planet-less void.

Now, despite the terror of such an occurrence, their future appeared much brighter. They came upon a sun and a new planet. As it turned out, although Psychon had an atmosphere it was not ideal. It was an environmental hell. The surface was hot, volcanic even, and Alpha as yet detected no signs of life. Still, it held promise. Their Science Officer, Lew Picard, did say there were traces of vital minerals available. They really needed titanium to repair a damaged life support system. If they could find an area for a safe landing Alpha might benefit. He already decided on an initial reconnaissance. Fraiser and … what was the other guy's name? Maybe Torens. Carter might not be happy but the other pilots needed practice.

"John?" She gazed at him. Her Commander and lover was lost in thought.

"Nothing. I was just thinking that Victor needs to do a full review of this area of space and …"

"Who?

"Vict …" he paused. 'By choice or design.' - "I mean, Lew …" Once again he was briefly lost then, "Sorry." Koenig took her hands, squeezed them gently, and smiled mildly. "I just feel a little unsettled this morning. Think I need a cup of coffee."

"There's a half pot waiting for you." Satisfied, she pulled back and stood, brushing an imaginary wrinkle from her skirt. "I'll stop off at Medical Center then meet you in Command Center."

Command Center? His eyes narrowed but he smiled when she leaned down and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Get dressed." She waved cheerfully as she rounded the bed, checking the comlock on her belt. Helena then walked from his quarters.

Without further delay he tossed his legs over the side of the bed and stretched once again. Life on Moonbase Alpha was not perfect, it was dangerous and always uncertain, but it had its rewards and compensations. The best of what the moon had to offer just left his quarters and the Commander felt himself extraordinarily lucky.

A second chance. He thought randomly as he pulled on his robe, without truly understand why the thought was so significant. In the end, maybe it did not matter. They would endure, eventually fulfill their destiny, and continue to dream of finding a new home. There would be happiness and a future for mankind. He was sure of it.

THE END

(Aug.-Sept. 2014)

This fiction was presented initially to a privileged few who received it first hand at the Space: 1999 convention (ALPHA: 2014) this year in Peterborough, England.

I look forward to your comments.

THANK YOU!