Confined to quarters, with a guard on the door; Paul had been apologetic, and assured him that it wouldn't be for long, that they just needed to sort it all out. But that had been several hours, and many worries ago. Victor paced the length of his living space once again, rubbing his hands tightly together. It still didn't completely add up. If he was to accept the information he garnered from John, then he would have to believe that there was a race of entities who could literally transfer the essence of their beings into a human host. But for what purpose? To what end? Assuming that he wasn't simply mad in any case, John had been unable to elaborate. Still, why would an organism clearly evolved far beyond humanoids want to transfer into a carbon-based body? The fear he had seen in Koenig's eyes haunted him. Victor had recognized that it wasn't John's fear for himself; he clearly believed that these "Bintossians" had a plan to take every life on Alpha, and that somehow the plan hinged on Koenig.
Victor had only questions, and no answers. He needed to think it through, to review the facts as he knew them. John had first presented with fever, rapid pulse and headaches, as though coming down with the flu. Then he had acted irrationally in Command Conference, then Main Mission. And in between each episode, he appeared perfectly lucid, albeit fatigued and in pain. He seemed to be fighting against his own mind: or, against something inside it! The events of the previous night flooded Victor's thoughts. With each piece of information that Koenig told to Victor, his pain level seemed to increase, as though something inside of him was trying to prevent him from communicating. John fought agony to get every word out, and finally, he had begged Victor to put an end to it. If Victor Bergman was sure of one thing, it was that John Koenig wouldn't resort to such a tactic unless he felt that the lives of the people under his command were at risk. And Victor knew when John betrayed him, that Koenig had lost his inner battle.
Bergman slowly closed his eyes and swallowed hard, for he knew that John had fought so hard against it, and in the end, because of Victor's own weakness, he had fallen prey to it. But Victor couldn't help to wonder, why then? Why not before when the pain was so violent John screamed in agony? What could be worse than threatening John with the future of Moonbase Alpha? And Victor's eyes popped open: Helena. John would have gone along if she was in immediate danger, in the hopes that another chance to breakaway would present itself. Bergman knew it was now up to him to figure out what the Bintossians were planning and throw a monkey wrench into it. John might be able to fight, but he might not. Victor considered what John meant by the plan "failing without him...." and then it struck him: access and authority. Those were the two things that gave the Commander the power to sabotage Alpha without being caught. And subversion it would have to be.....
The sound of his door releasing diverted his attention. He looked up and was surprised to see Helena Russell standing there, holding a tray with food and coffee.
"May I come in?"
"Of course."
Helena entered, closed the door behind her, and set the tray on the coffee table. There was an uncomfortable air in the room, and Victor felt as if he couldn't get enough oxygen in his lungs.
Helena pitched her voice low, "I thought you might be hungry."
Victor looked into her eyes, "That was kind of you."
She could barely meet his gaze, but she had seen what she had seen, and John confirmed the intention. The silence pressed on, and Helena wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room. Victor stood there, staring at her, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Finally she moved closer to him, the words tumbling out of her.
"Victor, I'm sorry.....but surely you know how it looked; and then after what John said--"
"--Yes, John who had been confined to Med Lab due to some kind of mental lapse--"
"--That's not fair, Victor, and you know it."
He looked at the floor, "I suppose not." Then he looked up at her, "But then, neither was assuming my guilt, Helena."
Tears filled her eyes, and although none fell, her voice betrayed her emotion, "I didn't know what to think. I woke up, groggy from sedation, and I see you standing over John, holding a hypodermic with a snoutful of Dexetrol to his neck. What was I to think?" Helena searched his eyes with hers, looking for some kind of answer, "Please tell me it wasn't what it appeared to be."
Feeling as though his knees would buckle at any moment, Victor sat down on the couch. He looked down into his hands as he flexed them together.
"It was, and yet it was not."
Helena didn't try to hide the frustration in her voice, "What does that mean?"
Victor sighed, and looked up at her, his eyes showing the exhaustion he felt. He had to tell her the truth, all of it, even if it meant being locked up forever. If he would have any chance of helping John, and thwarting the Bintossian threat, he would need a strong ally: and none would be better than Helena. He nodded toward the chair next to the couch.
"You'd better sit down, Helena, and be prepared to listen with an open mind...."
Both skeptical and curious, Dr. Helena Russell obeyed and sat down in the chair next to the couch. She studied Victor carefully, noting his drawn face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the tiredness of his voice. But beneath all that, she could feel his sincerity toward her, and knew she at least owed him a fair listen: she just hoped that he hadn't gone over the edge....