SPACE: 1999 YEAR 2
JOURNEY BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
SECTION NINETEEN: LOST IN MEMORY
It was just a short series of letters, followed by the time.
John Koenig's gaze lingered on his commlock screen, the faint glow reflecting in his eyes. The coffee cup in his hand paused halfway to his lips as he exhaled softly. He knew immediately what it meant. And he knew who.
There were only a few people who could access that part of Alpha these days. It wasn't hard to figure out that Tony Verdeschi was visiting there. Again.
John leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming absently against his coffee cup. He supposed it was only fitting. Moonbase Alpha was her home now. She had the right to know what had transpired, the chain of events that had flung them here, to this place in the universe. If it hadn't happened, they would have never encountered planet Psychon.
His hand tightened around the mug as memories surfaced, unbidden.
Victor's voice came first.
"This instrument's given me a lead. I think we're facing a new effect, a rising from the atomic waste deposited here over the years. Magnetic energy outputs of unprecedented violence."
And then, "There's an even bigger problem I see looming up. Area One burnt itself out in a magnetic subsurface firestorm. What worries me now is the same thing could happen in Area Two."
"Now we're sitting on the biggest bomb man's ever made."
Despite their last-minute attempt to disperse the mass, Nuclear Waste Area Two had detonated. An explosion so cataclysmic, so unexplainable, that it wrenched the Moon from orbit, tearing them away from Earth, away from their solar system, away from everything that each of them had ever known.
The chaos, the G-forces, the moment when the universe changed forever. Koenig remembered the sudden, violent lurch. The gut-wrenching cacophony of destruction as Alpha was flung into the unknown.
Koenig blinked, dragging himself back to the present.
The silence of Command Center felt oppressive, the muted hum of the monitors a far cry from the pandemonium of that day.
For just a fleeting moment, he could almost hear Victor's voice.
Calm, measured. Always seeking an answer. Always one step ahead, even when the universe refused to make sense.
"Magnetic energy outputs…"
The words echoed in his mind. Memories froze in time. And Victor Bergman was no longer here.
No quiet theories. No soft-spoken brilliance at his shoulder.
Only silence.
Koenig exhaled slowly, forcing the memory of his friend aside.
He took a slow sip of coffee, his gaze drifting back to the screen. If Tony was showing Maya Main Mission, she was standing where it had all unfolded, surrounded by the ghosts of what once had been.
He sighed and set the cup down, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Part of him wished they could leave that room buried in the past.
But another part understood.
It wasn't just history.
It was a reminder of everything they had lost… and everything they had survived.
Maya had taken his offered hand and moved to sit beside him on the small step, their bodies nearly touching.
Tony exhaled slowly before speaking.
"Alpha was originally designed as a space research and exploration center. Then it became a monitoring station for the nuclear waste disposal areas." He paused, glancing toward her, his expression reflective. "You know, she wasn't even fully completed until about two years before we were blasted out of Earth's orbit."
Maya listened intently as he continued.
"Back then, Alpha was alive. A constant hum of activity. Staff and visitors were always coming and going. Astronomers, biologists, chemists, astrophysicists, geologists. Technical and maintenance crews shuttling back and forth from Earth. Astronauts training. Eagles launching at all hours. Hell, we even had some experimental craft being tested."
His gaze drifted downward into the empty, dark expanse of Main Mission. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were trying to see through time, to find the ghosts of what once was.
"We had a space dock orbiting the moon," he murmured. "That's where they would've launched the Meta Probe, if things hadn't gone to hell."
He paused, the silence stretching between them. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, raw.
"I had a friend working on the space dock. Willis. Knew him since university. We went through astronaut training together."
Tony went silent, his jaw tightening as the memory gripped him. His hands curled slightly, as if trying to hold onto something already long lost in the distant past.
Maya's heart ached at the weight in his voice. In that moment, he wasn't just Moonbase Alpha's Security Chief, he was a man shaped by loss and pain.
"Then… it blew up."
Without thinking, she reached out, resting her hand gently on his thigh. A quiet offering of comfort, the same way he had done for her.
"I'm sorry, Tony," she murmured, her voice soft, genuine, filled with quiet compassion.
He exhaled slowly, the faintest trace of a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Ironic, really," he said, his tone carrying a quiet, dark amusement that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Neither of us were even supposed to be where we were that day."
She studied him, her curiosity edged with concern, but the subtle shake of his head signaled he wasn't ready to talk.
Maya's gaze lingered as he turned his attention down to the empty expanse of Main Mission. Leaning forward, his hand under his chin, he absently brushed his fingers across the stubble on his jaw. The faint crease in his brow deepened, shadows of unspoken thoughts flickering across his face.
One damn decision. Made in the heat of betrayal. And he'd hastened a return to Alpha instead of…
No.
The past is the past.
Bury it. Bury it deep. And forget.
Something weighed on him; his posture and distant expression made that very clear. She knew it wasn't her place to ask so she sat quietly next to him, saying nothing. For a time, his expression was distant, as though he were lost in a labyrinth of haunting thoughts.
She knew she couldn't really expect, shouldn't expect, for him to share whatever his thoughts were. They barely knew one another. But there was something about him that seemed to draw her in, something that made her want to ease whatever was causing his emotional pain.
Before she could untangle her own thoughts, he turned to her, the flicker of past darkness still visible in his eyes.
"You know, at one time Alpha sometimes hosted important dignitaries from Earth? There were events, sometimes parties."
He managed a small, wistful smile as he continued, "Alpha was actually considered one of the safest places to be in the event that all hell broke out again on Earth."
He chuckled lightly, though the sound lacked real humor.
"The security staff were really little more than escorts for visitors," he said, shaking his head as if the memory was almost too surreal to believe now. "Nobody boarded an Eagle to fly up here without heavy scrutinization before receiving clearance."
Tony exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze. "We've told you the part about the accident that threw us out here, into space."
Maya nodded slowly.
"What John and Helena didn't tell you was that there was a coverup."
"A coverup?" she echoed the word, hesitant.
"Oh, the truth was being buried," he explained for her, waving his hand slightly in the air. "Not John and Helena, no."
He turned his head to look at her. "Nuclear Disposal Area Two, nearly one hundred forty times the amount of atomic waste that had been stored in Area One." he said bitterly. "And it was considered to be much safer."
He shook his head. "I didn't learn the whole story until much, much later. People were getting sick Maya. Men were dying. Helena had suspicions. Nobody would let her talk, report her findings to the right people. If someone had listened to her, just once," he paused a moment. "We might still be back home."
"Why wouldn't they listen?'
"They didn't want to lose the funding. Space exploration came with a cost Maya. Building Alpha, the Meta probe, an entire fleet of Eagles, on the moon and on Earth. It all came with a hefty price tag."
She looked at him, her eyes revealing disbelief. "An entire planet of intelligent beings and yet, still relying on such an archaic system as currency?"
Tony shrugged. "Nobody wanted their name attached to a failure and the space program already had a few. The Meta mission had to be a success, the future of the program depended on it."
"It seems so…limiting," she paused, searching for the right words. "Surely, cooperation and shared resources would have been the better method?"
Verdeschi smirked, leaning back slightly.
"Yeah, well Maya, welcome to what was once Earth. Where intelligence doesn't always mean commons sense. And…money? Money was the magic trick to keep everything spinning. Who needs cooperation when you can argue over who gets the bigger slice of the pie?"
"Slice of the pie?"
He smiled at her.
"Oh, right. Slice of the pie, an old Earth saying. It means fighting over who gets the biggest piece of something valuable. Money, power, resources. Doesn't matter if the whole thing's burning, people just want to make sure they're getting theirs first." He paused, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Real inspirational stuff, huh?"
Maya tilted her head as she recalled her father's words. A culture similar to our own but not so advanced. Then she shook her head, the movement subtle but enough to catch Tony's attention.
"Yeah, well," Tony said, his voice low, almost bitter. "Nobody said we humans were the most advanced species in the universe, did they?"
He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"If they had really started listening to Helena, connecting the dots…" His words trailed off abruptly. He clenched his fists as he shook his head. There was no point in what-ifs, no value in chasing shadows of the past.
"It sounds as though you have a lot of respect for Doctor Russell," Maya said softly.
For a moment, Tony didn't respond. His gaze dropped down to Main Mission, his eyes shadowed, as though he was seeing something far beyond the walls of Alpha. When he finally looked at Maya, his face was set, his eyes carrying the weight of memories he didn't want to share.
"One of the smartest women I've ever met in my life," he said finally, his voice quieter. "If it weren't for her, I highly doubt I'd still be here now, talking to you."
Maya studied him, her chest tightening. There was something about the finality of his tone, the darkness lingering in his expression, that sent a chill creeping up her spine.
"Oh," she whispered, the word barely audible as it hung in the space between them.
Tony exhaled, running a hand over his face as if debating whether to say more to her. Normally, he wouldn't speak of this to anyone. But this was Maya and there was something about her that made it seem…easier.
"I was working down in the Hangar Bay, they didn't need more pilots, they needed help in getting Eagles up and dispersing the mass. We knew we were running out of time." Tony paused for a moment. "That's the last thing I remembered for days, Maya."
She looked at him, her heart beginning to ache for him. His words settled heavily between them, quiet but piercing.
"I was working with a fellow named Jeffrey, when it blew." His jaw tightened. "People went flying from the G forces. Jeffrey didn't…he didn't make it."
As he spoke Jeffrey's name, something flickered in his voice. Guilt maybe? Or grief that had never quite settled.
A sharp breath. A shadow crossed his face.
"I remember Helena telling me she had no idea how I was still alive." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Battered, broken. God, there were days I wished I had died."
Maya's breath caught. Her fingers, which had been resting gently on her knee, curled inward until her nails pressed into her palm. A soft tremor passed through her. Not from fear though. From the weight of what he was carrying.
Without even realizing it, she leaned slightly toward him. Not enough to intrude, but just enough that her presence reached for him. Her gaze lingered. The tight line of his jaw, the fragility of a man who was holding too much behind carefully built walls.
He was hurting.
In that moment, she ached not just for his pain, but for the burden he still refused to let go of.
She curled her fingers that were still on his thigh just a touch.
"Oh, Tony," she whispered, her voice threaded with sorrow. Sorrow for him, for the weight of what he still carried.
In that moment, something shifted inside her. She didn't fully understand it. She couldn't name it. But she felt it.
And whatever it was, it had begun with him.