SPACE: 1999

Breakaway - Aftermath

Moonbase Alpha

Commander's Office

September 14th, 1999

John Koenig, ninth commander of Moonbase Alpha, contemplated the starfield he'd never expected to see. They were on their way now, hurtling out of the solar system, heading to who knew where. The nuclear (but was it?) detonation of Nuclear Waste Disposal Area Two had not destroyed the base, as he'd expected during their frantic and abruptly aborted efforts to disperse the pile; instead the Earth's tidal lock on the Moon had somehow been broken.

Impossible.

The abrupt gravitational shift had hurled the Space Dock out of orbit, taking the Meta Probe and a hapless Eagle with it, and the dock had subsequently been destroyed by centripetal force, killing eighty-two crew members, plus the Probe and Eagle crews, unless they somehow got back to Earth - assuming the explosion of the dock didn't get them, of course.

Certainly possible, if disastrous.

The titanic explosion had somehow shifted the Moon out of orbit.

Impossible. The Moon should have been destroyed or catastrophically damaged. Certainly Alpha shouldn't have stood a chance.

They were travelling at tremendous speed. Carter had been lucky; had he not been in close lunar orbit, he'd never have made it back to Alpha.

Impossible. Nothing he knew of could account for it.

Their casualties were amazingly light; current Alpha crew numbers - including Commissioner Simmonds - now stood at 309. Soon to be 310, he reflected; Sue Crawford, who had turned out to be pregnant despite precautions, had been about to return to Earth, the tragic death of her husband Jack notwithstanding - a few months ago he had been the victim of a bizarre accident in the Power Generating Area, despite his encyclopaedic knowledge thereof, and she had received extensive counselling before her scheduled exodus. Now she would be forced to bear the child on Alpha.

Impossible. In all that chaos, how the hell did they survive?

As Commander, however, it was his job to be pragmatic, and if that meant believing six impossible things before breakfast, like Alice, then he would damned well do that. Somehow, they had survived. Somehow, the base was intact. Somehow, the Moon had left orbit. Somehow, they were on their way somewhere. The multiple impossibilities were negated by current events, by the incontrovertible facts. He should deal with that as best he could. No other Commander - not Gorski, not anyone (with the possible exception of Ed Straker) had ever faced such a burden of responsibility.

But, he swore, he would.

His musings were interrupted by the door signal; he turned and triggered his Comlock. A door opened to reveal Dr. Helena Russell, Chief Medical Officer. "Good evening, Dr. Russell," he greeted her.

She barely smiled. "Given where we are, I'm not sure 'evening' means anything any more."

"Coffee?" he offered politely.

Now she did smile. "Or Alpha's nearest equivalent. Thank you. Black, one sugar, please. I'm watching my figure." She looked rueful. "Even after spending years at point eight gee, the effects of time do accumulate."

"Yeah, they never did solve the gravity generator problem, did they, even on SHADO's old Moonbase," he recalled whilst busy at the coffee dispenser. Virginia Lake had always thought there was some undetected flaw in the theory, preventing the apparatus from achieving full efficiency; 0.5g, its best power level, was too low, and running it at full gee was impractical (trans.: too expensive). The new Shimaka-Wakefield generator, created after the Mark IX Hawk was commissioned and built, was better, but still it couldn't operate efficiently at full gee, so 0.8 would have to do.

"That's true, but if we maintain the standard exercise regimen, it shouldn't be a problem," she agreed. "Thank you, Commander," she accepted the cup, sipped and gracefully sat, her legs nearly crossed.

Even under the standard Alpha uniform trousers, the outline of her lovely legs showed. But he couldn't allow himself to notice that. He was the Commander, dammit, and she was the CMO. A certain distance had to be maintained. At present they couldn't even think about relationships, marriages, kids (Sue's case notwithstanding); the base was such that there simply wasn't room, never mind the extra work the life support systems would have to perform and the extra maintenance that would entail.

Another detail in the life of a Commander, he thought ironically. They would have to find ways to adapt, to improvise, to take into account the fact that there would be no new components or resources coming from Earth - or anywhere, for that matter.

But he was convinced they would. It'd be a challenge, but wherever there is mass and power to manipulate, Man can live. Moonbase Alpha was undeniable proof of that.

That thought engendered another. "How are we doing, medically?"

Helena sipped again. "Well, the injuries, both minor and severe, have now been addressed. Only three deaths - Ouma, when a computer module exploded, David Kano will replace him, and two others who were both near Area Two when it exploded."

He frowned. "I gave orders to the effect that no-one should go into that Area, once the danger was confirmed."

"They were volunteers, Commander," she quietly pointed out, "their exposure had been very low, and I did say 'near' the Area. Some thousand yards or so, that is - they, tried, and failed, to stabilise the waste remotely." She sighed. "Tomas Lipwig and Jerry Maine. They were brave. We'll miss them."

He agreed soberly. "They tried to help, and I'm sure they both did their best. But what happened in that Area was beyond anyone's understanding...except Victor's, maybe," he added. "What about their mental state? How has the breakaway affected them?"

"Psychologically," she replied, "I'd say we're in as good a shape as we could've expected. Some people have expressed regret that we can't go home; others are excited about the prospect of becoming explorers, even involuntarily. On the whole, Commander, I think we'll be alright." She looked wry. "Of course, we'll need to continue the contraceptive regimen in the food and drink. Sue may be determined, quite rightly in my medical opinion, to have a little piece of Jack," she added, "but you and I both know we have neither the room nor the resources to expand at this time."

"I've already given orders to that effect," he nodded. He paused. "About not going home..." He sighed. For the sake of Alpha he had to seem to be indestructible, the stoic Commander, but if he couldn't be human before Helena Russell, he couldn't do it before anyone. He sat and turned to face her. "Helena, even though it's too late now, I have to ask: do you think I was right?"

"Do you?" she asked neutrally.

"I did at the time. It felt right, and it still does. But I'm asking you - what do you think?"

Her answer took a while. "Yes. You were right. I know it was a hard choice, John, but that's the kind of choice you're trained to make. As a doctor, so am I - triage," she expanded. "We were just picking ourselves up after a disaster, hardly organised at all. I honestly don't think we could've improvised a return to Earth under those conditions, and even if we could, it would only have been a few people - a dozen at most. Eagles don't have much cargo space."

"Would they have made it? Even some of them?"

She shook her head. "Frankly, I doubt it. The air wouldn't have lasted nearly long enough, even with supplementary Oh-Two bottles. No, John, you made the right call. If we were still in touch with the Space Commission, I'd back you all the way on that. This way, your way, the maximum number of people, the full complement of Alpha, survives. As you said at the time, there's a possibility of survival. And like you, I believe we will survive, John. People are tough, and clever." She smiled briefly. "If they weren't hardy and intelligent, they wouldn't even be here."

"What about Tony Cellini?" he had to ask, recalling the troubled pilot. Helena didn't need to know that he'd specifically requested Tony's return to Alpha. He's a friend. I thought I was doing him a favour. How the hell was I supposed to know the Moon was gonna be blasted out of orbit?

"He seems to be okay so far, and remarkably stable considering what he's been through. I honestly don't believe he should be here, but...well, he has no choice now. None of us do." She sipped more deeply now. "Which indirectly brings up a medical point. Now that I know the cause of the brain damage, I believe there's a way to reverse the cumulative effects, especially since we'll no longer be exposed to either Disposal Area.

"Hypersonic treatments and doses of cortrazine should do it; I wish I'd thought of it sooner, we might have saved Collins at least, as he was the last victim to suffer the effect. But if anyone else has been affected, they should no longer develop the symptoms of neural dysfunction or the sense of claustrophobia that was produced. As I recall, you paid visits both to Areas One and Two -"

"So did you," he pointed out fairly, "to Area Two, at least."

"- yes, and Bob Mathias will treat me accordingly," she nodded. "It won't take long at all, Commander. Victor will also need precautionary treatment, as well as Alan Carter and all surviving Eagle pilots and co-pilots, plus the backup crew for the Meta Probe."

That was good news for once. It made sense. "All right," he nodded. "Anyone who was exposed to either Area, even briefly, gets the treatment. Computer will give you the full list of who was assigned where. Better safe than sorry." He smiled, appreciative. "Good job as always, Helena. Thanks."

"You're welcone, John, and I agree. We're in a precarious situation. We can't afford to lose anyone now." She finished her coffee and rose. "I'll start work now with Bob. Thanks for your time, Commander."

"Well, even a Commander can spare the time now and again to contemplate the infinite," he joked.

"All the more reason for me to appreciate this time," she smiled, and left, crossing the office.

Even as the Commander, Koenig appreciated the sensual sway of her hips.

After all, he was still a man.

Victor Bergman was the next visitor, ten minutes later. He carried some papers and a computer chip. "Ah, John. Got a minute?"

"For you, Victor," he smiled at his old friend, "any time."

"Hm. Well, I was going over the sensor readings taken at the time Area Two went up, and I discovered something remarkable, John. It wasn't a nuclear explosion as we understand the term; the mass shouldn't, couldn't have undergone fission, comprising nuclear waste as it did. No, it was a new and unprecedented effect. For a moment, for just a moment, as the explosion occurred, ah, we...didn't exist.

"It was in that moment that Area Two went up. For just a moment the Moon and everything on it - even Alan, in orbit - lost its entire moment of inertia. That was why the explosion had such a dramatic effect on us, and it also explains why we weren't destroyed. Fascinating stuff. And the mass hasn't gone; no, it sank into the Moon and formed what I believe to be a singularity of sorts.

"It's maintaining the effect, John. The mass of a star system appears to concentrate the effect, basically giving us a push, so to speak, which is why we're accelerating out of the solar system and yet feeling only our natural weight - none of that crushing G-force we remember. At some point, the equations seem to say, we'll jump out of this solar system altogether, travel at an untold velocity, and eventually slow down to interplanetary speeds, reaching the next star system. Then the same thing will happen again, assuming we aren't drawn in by gravity. And so on. A kind of interstellar leapfrog."

"We couldn't have foreseen this?"

"Oh, no, no, not at all, we're heading into new uncharted realms of physics, John. No, the equations are as complex as any I've ever written, probably worth a Nobel Prize, if we could contact Earth. But the event, as tragic as it might have been, has had one positive effect: I believe I can derive a set of control equations, with Computer's help, which should allow us to increase both the range and the speed of our Eagles. That'll help with Operation Exodus, as and when we find a new world to live on."

"With no danger to their crews?" Koenig inquired, fascinated.

Victor shrugged. "Can't see how. It's a simple matter of field manipulation." He handed Koenig the papers eagerly, and the younger man perused them. "I've put the whole thing on a computer chip as well, so Kano and Computer can check it."

Simple, yeah, Koenig reflected wryly, reading the material but understanding just the odd symbol here and there. Symbolic logic, he'd often thought, looked more like abstract wallpaper than anything else. I'm no slouch when it comes to science, but Victor's leaving me behind as usual. I wonder if he ever realises that.

And if it ever matters. If it works, it works. If it came from Victor Bergman's brain, it'll work. If he isn't a genius, I don't know what the hell he is.

"Great stuff, Victor. Talk to Alan, he knows Eagles better than anyone on Alpha."

Victor grinned knowingly. "Didn't understand one page of it, did you?"

Koenig chuckled, conceding the point. "Victor, this is your job. Mine is to run Alpha as smoothly as I can. If you say it'll work, I'll go with that."

"That's the spirit, John!" Victor said approvingly. "I'll get right on it, let you know."

"Okay, Victor. Keep me apprised. Thanks." Victor nodded and turned to leave. "Victor?"

"Mmm?"

"You're a supernumerary on this base. As such, you've always given me an unbiased opinion."

"Oh, of course," Victor nodded, "no room for bias in science, John."

"But we've been good friends for a long time," Koenig continued.

"While still acknowledging your rank, as is only proper, of course," Victor smiled.

"So, Victor. Unbiased opinion: was it the right call?"

"Mmm? Oh - not to attempt a return to Earth, you mean? Oh, of course, there's no question, John," he smiled again, "we would've failed, and knowing that from the start, why waste people and resources even to try? Oh, I know what you're thinking, you're experiencing good old human doubt. But rest assured: the chances of us, even a few of us, getting back to Earth at that time were...well, they were very, very low. No, it was definitely the right decision. It proved you're the Commander, that that black stripe and sleeve really mean something."

Koenig grinned and shook his hand. "Thank you, Victor. If I wasn't sure before, I am now."

The final visitor of the night was Gerald Simmonds, ex-Commissioner of the International Lunar Commission. When he saw the man's face on his Comlock, he mentally grimaced. He had no idea what the hell he was going to do about Simmonds. In theory he was Koenig's boss. In practice Koenig could not acknowledge him, even in public; it would undermine his authority, which they would need in order to survive.

He was a politician, a paper-pusher, and as such he was utterly useless on Alpha. Yet he breathed, ate and drank like anyone else. In fairness to him, he wanted to contribute, and in theory Koenig was all for it.

But as to exactly how, he had no idea.

Better see what he wants, he supposed. Hopefully he doesn't still want to try to go back to Earth - from what Victor said, that's getting more and more impossible by the minute.

But he did. "Ah, John - Commander," he tactfully corrected, and it was just as well - if he hadn't, Koenig would've ejected him or called Security. "Have you thought about how we're going to get back to Earth?"

Koenig sighed. "No, Simmonds, and I'm not going to. We cannot spare the manpower or the resources. Even if we could, we have no idea as to where Earth even is. Victor's working on modifications to the Eagles, to increase range and speed -"

"Ah, good, well, there we are!" Simmonds beamed.

"- but by the time even one Eagle is ready, we'll have jumped away - and the next star system, where we'll end up, is light-years away. That's far beyond the range of any possible Eagle, no matter how we modify it. We don't know where it is, or how far we'll be from Earth, even if we could find it. Under those circumstances - ones we can do nothing about - it is simply impossible."

"But -!"

"Look," Koenig went on wearily, "it's possible that we'll encounter a wormhole or other spatial phenomenon that'll help us get home. I no more know what's out there than you do, so...I guess the possibility exists. But I am not counting on it. We can't, Commissioner. Realistically, the only possibility for survival is the one we're pursuing: hang on tight, hope we make it and if, if the next star system holds a habitable planet, maybe we'll activate Operation Exodus and settle on it. Right now, that's our best shot."

"The Earth authorities will be making every possible effort to retrieve us, Koenig! On that basis, doesn't it make sense for us to reciprocate?"

"Oh, come on, Simmonds, they don't even know where we are! For that matter, we picked up a news broadcast that said, and I quote, 'Little hope is held, however, that there are any survivors', plus even then we were beyond the reach of any possible rescue craft - so they believe we're all dead! We're damn lucky not to be!"

"Lucky, yes, and we should capitalise on that luck! The sooner we start, the sooner we can get back!" Simmonds insisted.

Koenig stood. He'd had enough. "Simmonds, like it or not, I am in command here. The decision is mine. And I've decided: we stay put. There will be no wild attempts by you or anyone else to return to Earth. That's it." He shook his head. "I'm going to bed. Talk to Paul Morrow tomorrow about a duty assignment; he sets them, as he's the Main Mission Controller. Good night, Commissioner," he ended with finality.

And there the matter rested - until the Alphans encountered the people of Kaldor...

THE END

"You are a truly primitive organism, Commander. We could have given you an eternity of happiness in an instant of time. Now your life will be what the life of your species has always been: cruel...and futile."

"It's better to live as your own man than as a fool in someone else's dream."