Disclaimer: none of the characters are mine. This story takes place immediately prior to the events depicted in the television episode "Breakaway."
John Koenig sat in the antechamber, staring at the Lunar Commission logo etched into the glass above the doors to the conference room. He was not a patient man when dealing with politics. Still, he felt the meeting with the Lunar Commission was completed with the barest minimum of infighting possible.
Screw that, he thought viciously. This wasn't a meeting with the Commission. This was a meeting with Simmons. The fact that the rest of the Commission members were present was, to Koenig, irrelevant.
"You will have one priority and one priority only, John," Simmons had said. "Launch that damnable probe. Meta's reachable window is closing. If this project fails, Alpha fails."
The message was clear. Personnel were largely arbitrary; the Lunar Commission needed a high-profile success to keep their funding. It was no secret that Alpha was hemorrhaging money with no substantial product to show for it.
After the alien attacks of the early 1980s had stopped as abruptly as they began, SHADO was scrapped. The existing moonbase had been decommissioned, and there were serious questions to answer. Questions about billions spent on impractical, single-task vehicles. Questions about the practicality of building secret bases disguised as movie studios. Questions about who the hell paid to stock Ed Straker's office bar.
The moonbase itself would have been scrapped had it not been for the Eagle project. The presence of man on the moon was made practical by the development of multi-use modular transports that could operate in vacuum and atmosphere alike. The vehicles produced almost no pollution and maintained per-unit costs well below anything Boeing or Airbus could build. Victor had scored a major coup with that design.
As Koenig thought about Victor Bergman, his gaze shifted to the framed photographs adorning the walls. The theme was almost the same in every photo: Victor receiving an award for the Eagle design. Victor receiving an award for the energy cell that made the stun gun practical. An award for the commlock. An award for the next generation of space suits. The very same space suit Victor was wearing when they broke ground for Alpha in the Plato Crater.
Koenig clearly remembered that first meeting to discuss the funding and development of Alpha. Victor had been passionate; a passion rarely displayed after his artificial heart had been implanted.
"Gentlemen," his speech began, "we already have a presence on the moon. The Eagle Transport Project gave man the ability to successfully cope with the dangerous amounts of nuclear waste being generated on this fragile planet."
Koenig had inwardly smirked at the expression so clear on Simmons' face; Victor had simultaneously drawn attention to his enormous success and to Simmons' major controversial policy of commandeering a large portion of the Eagle fleet to send all of Earth's radioactive waste to the moon. Environmentalists had protested turning Earth's only satellite into nothing more than a giant dumping ground for garbage, to which Simmons replied in his own caustic style: "It's already a dump."
Victor had continued his speech, deliberately oblivious to Simmons' reaction. "Men must be on the Moon to monitor the massive amounts of waste stored under the lunar rock." More facial twitches from Simmons. "A simple extension of that established presence would allow us an unprecedented platform for research and exploration."
The gathered delegates of the Lunar Commission had given Victor a standing ovation, leaving Simmons seated and fuming. Koenig knew that asking for a permanent research station on the moon was going to irritate Simmons; the fact that it infuriated him delighted Koenig no end. Simmons repaid Koenig's loyalty to Victor by denying him command of Alpha, assigning Gorsky to the post, and placing Koenig in the relatively do-nothing job of commanding Earth's Eagle operations.
So why do they need me now? Koenig asked himself. What the hell is going on up there? Why can't Gorsky get that probe launched?
News from Alpha was scarce lately; there was an unusual air of secrecy when questions about daily operations were asked. No one seemed to know anything. The only thing Koenig knew for sure was that personnel transfers to and from Alpha had been suspended. The sealed order, for eyes of Eagle Command only, went out of its way to avoid the word "quarantine." But that's essentially what it was: no one goes, no one leaves. Indefinitely.
The doors to the conference room opened, snapping Koenig out of his thoughts. Simmons himself was at the door. A sure sign of trouble; for anything other than a dire emergency, Simmons would have sent an underling to summon Koenig.
"We've discussed it, John," Simmons stated in a tone that hid all emotion, "and the Commission feels that you're the best man to get the job done."
The Commission feels, though Koenig. I'm sure Simmons' feelings are another matter altogether.
"You are to take command of Moonbase Alpha immediately and ensure the successful launch and completion of the Meta mission. An Eagle is waiting at the launch pad. You will depart in ten minutes."
Koenig was stunned into a brief silence, but recovered immediately. "Just like that?" he asked, standing. "What's really going on up there, Simmons? A travel embargo that sounds suspiciously like a quarantine, questions that no one seems to be willing to answer, the sudden removal of Gorsky from command…"
"It's all here," said Simmons, interrupting. He handed Koenig a thick binder marked confidential. "You'll have time to read it on your flight. I'm issuing you priority clearance to allow you clearance from the…travel embargo." The pause was slight, but noticeable. "Get this sorted out and get the probe launched, John. You are personally responsible. If you fail, Alpha's days are numbered."