Moments of Reflection
Moments of Reflection
Breakaway + 1 year
She sat silently in the artificial twilight watching the stars drift past overhead. The rustling of leaves on the small fruit trees and the occasional buzz of honeybees intent upon their small duties were soothing in their very mundaness. The biodome was her retreat from reality. If she sat very still and carefully thought of nothing, the pain of Paul’s leaving was not quite so great. And as long as the moon kept to this trajectory, Pyxidea was no longer in view.
The door opened and someone walked along the crushed lunar rock path. Sandra made herself very small behind the skimpy climbing wisteria vines and wished the interloper would just go away and leave her alone. Too many people thought they could ‘help.’ No one could. No now, not tomorrow. The footfalls paused. They were too heavy to be Helena’s. Maybe Alan’s.
She pulled her legs up on the small stone bench and rested her cheek on her knees. She couldn’t stop the tears that dampened her uniform. She closed her eyes and thought of home. The Oxford house. She had grown up all over the world, but had come to think of the old, drafty, three-story Tudor house near Oxford as home. She had moved there to be with her father after her mother had died in 1987. That was where she had met her dear friend and stepmother Diane and where she had wonderful memories of watching her youngest sister Julia grow up. And if she had just listened to her father, she could have been there right now. The ache for her family was a physical thing that she had almost overcome, until five days ago.
Damn Paul. She had thought he had really cared for her. Even loved her.
When the natives of the planet Ariel had provided the moon with an atmosphere, Paul had promised her a new life. The Eagle crash and hallucinogenic fungi aside, she thought he had meant it. Even Helena’s tales of a harshly patriarchal Paul on that alternate Earth had them together, and with children. She had thought they could make it together, even on this wayward deathtrap.
And to think she had worked so very hard to even make it to Alpha. How the small gods of the perverse must be laughing at her now.
Sandra rocked back and forth slightly, the tears flowing unnoticed. Maybe this was her reward for challenging her father and coming to Alpha against his wishes.
“Ah, Sandra, there you are.”
Sandra’s surprise was enough that she actually raised her head. The Professor? Here? The quiet, cultured voice held only a hint of its usual good humor, and was now tinged with… regret? She had seen him almost constantly at the Commander’s side counseling patience and restraint. Koenig was still furious at Paul’s betrayal of his trust and paced about Main Mission like an enraged predator. Everyone was so on edge around the Commander’s chancy moods that she was for the most part being overlooked. All for the best, perhaps. Humiliation and anger were something best dealt with in private.
“May I join you, my dear?”
He stood quietly in the shadows about a meter off awaiting her permission to approach, his manners courtly as always. Sandra dashed the tears from her cheeks and nodded. She shifted over the small amount necessary to make room for the Professor to sit beside her.
He had aged, she thought. The lines about his eyes and mouth were more deeply grooved and he simply looked tired. She would have said something, but the lethargy that followed an outpouring of tears had robbed her of any initiative.
They sat together in silence watching the stars.
As much as she respected, and yes, even loved the old man, she hoped he would not offer any platitudes about Paul’s defection. She had heard them all, and thought them all, and none were in the least comforting.
“You know, Sandra, your mother would have been immensely proud of you.”
Sandra was surprised into turning her head and truly looking at the man who had become almost a second father to her. His face was still upturned, the starlight softening the lines of sadness and grief.
“You knew my mother?”
“I met her a time or two.”
Sandra flogged her mind to work coherently. Whenever would Elisabeth Benes, a pilot for a small, chartered flight service ever have had the opportunity to carry on conversations with Victor Bergman, a man who had moved in the most elite circles of academia and the space program? The Professor glanced at her, she was certain her puzzlement showed on her face.
“We spoke on occasion as she flew me about Europe when I was lecturing at Cambridge and then Oxford. Lovely lady. Fascinating woman. It was easy to see what captured your father’s attention.”
Sandra could not recall her mother ever mentioning the Professor, and she usually did tell Sandra of any astronaut or Lunar Commission personnel she met. Mother and daughter had each held a fascination for all things space related. Perhaps they had met before she had been born.
“I have always rather imagined she was the reason you came to be on Alpha. Lawrence certainly was not in favor of your posting.”
Sandra nodded slightly to that, a small, sad smile of acknowledgement to both observations. “Diane encouraged me, also. And she had quite a few connections in the Lunar Commission, which undoubtedly helped.”
“Perhaps,” the Professor acknowledged with the frank understanding of how the inbred Space Program worked, “but you were invited back, twice, because of your undoubted competence.”
They sat companionably together in the darkness and the silence, watching the stately progress of a multicolored nebula.
“I never had children, Sandra, something I have come to greatly regret as I get older. But you, my dear,” and here the Professor leveled a calm look at Sandra, “have become a daughter of my heart, and I look forward to seeing your children one day.”
Sandra blushed as she looked down at her folded hands.
“Sandra, you are living your mother’s dearest wish for you. She had hoped you would reach for the very stars and accomplish any goal you set for yourself.” The Professor looked into Sandra’s grieving brown eyes, a gentle smile of returning good humor on his face. “And you have.”
He reached out a hand and gently patted her on the knee.
“Don’t lose faith, child. You are so very young. I know you have heard it all, but it is true with time will come perspective.” The Professor’s face regained its aged look. “I keep telling John that, also.”
Perhaps, thought Sandra. But the Commander had Helena; she had no one.
“You are a lovely person and I am sure the right person is still out there for you. Perhaps, closer then you might think.” Bergman stood up and looked down at the Sandra.
Drifting back toward thoughts of lost family, Sandra barely heard that final, quiet comment. The Professor leaned over and gave a gentle kiss of benediction on her check. Startled back into the present, Sandra looked up. “Thank you, Professor.”
She watched the older man walk down the pathway and out the door. Glancing at her commlock, she realized her next duty shift started soon. She had offered to staff the night watches, mostly to avoid the constant pitying looks of the others in Main Mission. Looking up at the peaceful stars one last time, she turned to follow the Professor’s path out of the quiet biodome. She had time enough for a change into a clean uniform, and then it was time to report to duty.
Alan paced impatiently as he waited for the Professor to come out of the biodome, still mulling over the latest rumors circulating Alpha. He had wanted to go in and check on Sandra, but the Professor had counseled giving the grieving woman some space. Paul’s departure had hit them all hard, but perhaps Sandra most of all. Alan knew as well as anyone that the two of them had been close, and had no doubt been lovers, but, damn it, Sandra had never challenged Koenig. Unlike Paul. Given that, the whispers Alan had heard over the past few days seemed all the more absurd… that Paul and Sandra together had planned the defection, but for some reason Sandra had been left behind. Or, more charitable but no less damning, she had helped Paul but had bailed out at the last minute. All of it just bloody stupid.
Alan paced in the short access corridor rubbing the ache in his sore arm from that final confrontation with Paul before he had hijacked the Eagle and left for Pyxidea with Tanya and the others. Why Tanya? As much as Alan loathed admitting it, he would have taken bets on the fact Paul really had cared for Sandra. If it had been else wise, the pilot would have stepped up ages ago.
Alan pivoted back toward the biodome as he heard the door open. It was the Professor. The older man saw Alan and motioned him to stay put. Bergman joined Alan and then pulled him back into the spur service corridor just as the biodome door opened again and Sandra walked out. It hurt Alan to see the signs of grief on her lovely face. She passed by not seeing the two men standing quietly within arm’s reach. She turned toward the residential block and was lost to sight.
“She’s alright.” The Professor said quietly.
Alan said nothing but his dubious expression must have told the Professor he doubted that.
“Well… she’s in for a rough go yet, but I believe she’ll make it. She’s a great deal tougher then most give credit.” The Professor ran a hand through his thin hair, pursed his lips slightly and sighed.
Alan made to walk around Victor. “I’ll just go…”
“No, Alan,” the Professor’s grip on his arm stronger then one would expect for a man of his years. “She needs some time alone to think through what’s happened. Be a friend, but don’t crowd her.”
The two men looked at each other, but Alan was the first to look away. “Yeah, alright. But it’s killing me to see her like this.” The men turned and slowly walked away from the biodome.
The Professor smiled sadly, he had always suspected that Alan was more then simply fond of Sandra. He could be exactly what she needed. In time. “I know, I don’t particularly care for it either.” Resting a paternal hand on Alan’s arm as they walked together, he patted it in commiseration. “What you can do, my boy, is try to keep those vicious rumors away from her.”
“You’ve heard them too?” Alan looked surprised. He wouldn’t have thought Bergman, well, attentive enough to the daily gossip mill to hear them.
Bergman gave Alan a wry look. “I may be old, Alan, I’m not deaf. I’ve heard them, and so has John. He’s trying to think of a public way to show that he has complete confidence in Sandra before all of Alpha has her written off as a failed traitor. That is the last thing she needs.”
Alan stopped walking, inadvertently clenching his fists without thinking. Only the pain in his bruised hands made him aware of his actions. Did he think he could fight rumors with fisticuffs? Deliberately taking a deep breath and relaxing, he grimaced. “She’ll hate it if John does anything to draw that kind of attention to her.”
“I know, but a little embarrassment now might make things easier in the long run. John will think of something.” Bergman yawned and paused, looking around to get his bearings in the residential block they had entered. He was so tired he looked like he might fall asleep standing in his shoes if he weren’t careful.
Alan smiled tiredly and pointed to the door behind Victor. “Get some rest, Professor. Tomorrow is another day.” Seeing the older man safely to his quarters, Alan walked away. Exhausted but still too keyed up to sleep, Alan pondered where he could go next given the lateness of the hour.
“Thanks, Maisey,” Alan nodded to the kitchen tech as he grabbed the last cup of coffee and walked over to the viewports. The cafeteria was almost empty this late after dinner. He barely registered Maisey starting to shut down the place and clean up for the night.
After starring at his own reflection in the viewport for a while, he slumped down in the nearby chair and dropped his elbows on the table. He rested his forehead against his hands and rubbed his burning eyes. Tomorrow, he’d run through each and every last one of his pilots to see if anyone else had any plans to hijack an Eagle to start up a colony on his own. They still had a decent supply of Eagle components, but no one had the right to appropriate one of the birds for such a selfish, and ultimately futile, end.
The cup had long been emptied when Alan finally realized there was someone sitting opposite him. He blinked a few times to bring the person into focus and to get his sleep-deprived brain to engage. It was a pretty, yellow-sleeved woman with neatly braided long, blond hair hanging down her back. “How long you been sitting there, Annie?”
Annette Bouvier looked as tired as most Alphans did currently, but still carried the suppressed excitement she was entitled to given her upcoming wedding to Bill Fraser. “A while.” Alan was one of a very few people who could call her by that childish nickname without a quick verbal retort. “Either you’d see me or you’d fall asleep in your coffee, either way I was willing to wait.”
Alan snorted. “Thanks.”
“You’re most welcome.”
Alan managed a tired grin at Annie’s verbal repartee. “What’s up? Have you wised up and decided to leave that oaf for a better prospect?”
“Meaning you?” Annette smiled. Actually, she had been having dinner with Alan when she had first met Bill shortly after Breakaway, and the two had been inseparable since. Anyhow, she had seen the looks Alan had for Sandra and rather thought there might be something there. “Highly unlikely.”
“And another match gone begging.” Alan leaned back in the chair and propped his feet up in the next seat. Suddenly recalling his manners, he cast a quick furtive look around for Maisey. She regarded the cafeteria as her dominion and kept it in tight order. Not seeing the mousy tech, Alan left his feet where they comfortably were.
“Seriously, Alan. Sandra is going to need a friend.”
“Uh huh.’”
Annette watched Alan closely. His relaxed expression had tightened somewhat. So, this was a touchy point. Well, there was no way to avoid it. Sandra was a good friend and Annette had spent the evening of Paul’s defection helping her through those first few difficult hours. Sandra felt completely and utterly betrayed. Annie sighed, she might as well go for broke. “A friend, Alan, not a lover. Not for a long while yet.”
Now, Annette waited. Alan wasn’t stupid, he’d see she was right. Even though he was slouched back in the chair, she could see he held every muscle taut.
Finally, Alan relaxed again. “Alright, Annie. Give me the rest.”
She tilted her head and regarded Alan, did he really want to hear anything else?
“Annie, I have a sister and a whole chattering flock of female cousins. I know there’s more advice where that came from.”
Annette grinned at that sally. Well enough. He was asking. “Let her make the first move. It may take a while, she’s been deeply hurt. I think this might even be the one loss that could break her.”
“Paul.” Alan commented flatly.
Annette looked up startled. “No, her ability to trust others. It may be months before that comes back, but if you move too fast, she’ll shut you out. I would hate to see her end up a lonely, bitter person.”
“No, she won’t.” Alan stood up quickly and walked around the table to Annette’s side. “Thanks, Annie.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Bill is a damn lucky guy.”
Annette grinned tiredly up at the determined man and then stood to follow him out. And Sandra was a lucky woman to have a friend like Alan, she thought.
John Koenig sat watching the Main Mission staff switch over to night watch mode. The crowd thinned and someone dimmed the overhead lights in the long honored tradition of the ‘night shift.’ Kano had shut down his station and had signed over to Sandra upon her recent arrival. As David left, Koenig watched as the man cast one last long look in Sandra’s direction. It disturbed John to see the mistrust on David’s face. David and Sandra had been co-workers and friends far too long for David to have such doubt in Sandra’s loyalty. But then again, no one had doubted Paul either, until the mutiny.
Damn Paul. John could feel the black anger well up again and took a few deep breaths to get control. Victor was right, he had to consider the here and now and remain a calm focus for his staff. He looked back down at the files on the screen in front of him.
Verdeschi should do fine as his second. Given all Alpha had been through with both external and internal threats, they needed a stronger security presence and voice in staff meetings. Though a small section, Security was filled with strong willed individuals and to a person they spoke well of the young officer. His training in the Italian Air Force would serve him in good stead should command ever devolved to him. And it didn’t hurt that Helena also had spoken well of his abilities. As far as John was concerned, the position of Controller had been abruptly terminated.
John clicked over to the next file. Alan reported the damage to the Eagle Bay was well under way to being repaired, and the Eagle fleet being brought back up to a full complement of forty. Good enough. John paused a moment in his status review to rub his tired eyes. For all of his hot-headedness, Alan was a rock in any storm. Alpha had been incredibly lucky when Carter had chosen to follow the moon after Breakaway.
That was enough for tonight and John leaned forward and turned off the monitor. Helena was waiting for him. He looked up and allowed his eyes to rest on Paul’s station one last time. He’d have Tony take over there tomorrow. A flash of yellow caught his eye. Sandra was looking at Paul’s seat also. John sat back and sighed. There was a problem he would have to deal with soon and decisively. Victor and Helena each had told him of the rumors surfacing that Sandra had been part of Paul’s conspiracy. But he’d seen her face when Paul said good-bye to her and fully believed she had no knowledge of his plans. Paul had deceived Sandra as thoroughly as the rest of them. Even so, John knew Helena was worried about the quiet data analyst. He sat for a while thinking through different options for the most effective. Yes.
John pushed himself wearily out of his chair, crossed in front of his desk, and walked down into Main Mission proper. He went over to Sandra, pausing a moment to ensure all eyes were on him. Although the dark circles under her eyes echoed many days without meaningful rest, he could still see her quiet competence. “Sandra, thank you for covering the night watch.”
Sandra looked up a bit surprised. “You are welcome, Commander.”
“There’s no one else I would prefer to have on duty right now.” He rested his hand briefly on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze of acknowledgement. “Good night, Sahn.”
There, let that join the rumor mill, as he fully anticipated it would by the time he reached his quarters. John walked out of Main Mission turning to head toward the residential block and looking forward to a quiet evening with Helena. He didn’t see the person standing motionless right around the corner until he almost bumped into him.
“Thanks for that, John.”
Before John could think of a reply, Alan turned and walked away. Thinking through the ramifications of that brief phrase, John followed the pilot at a discrete distance all the way to the residential block. Maybe Helena was right about that also; she was an inordinately good judge of character. John had doubted her when she had first said it that morning, but maybe Alan would be the one to help Sandra.
It was time to start over once again.
6 April 2006
MDG