The older woman pulled back from the kiss and murmured his name. She looked deeply into his eyes, closed her own, and collapsed.

"You've killed her!" someone in the crowd exclaimed.

The rough looking villagers, once his own people, came forward and took the body. John exchanged a look with the younger Helena who stood across the clearing, Alan moved protectively to her side.

"This is your fault! You brought this on us!" Paul called as the body was taken away. John put up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, but Paul didn't hesitate. He raised his hand. Helena screamed. A flash of light burst from the hand weapon. Then there was darkness.

He struggled back to consciousness, almost surprised that he was still alive. "Helena?" he called. If he had been shot, what had happened to Helena?

"Easy, easy," a soft familiar voice said gently.

"Helena?" He asked again. His head pounded and his mouth was dry.

A hand smoothed his brow. A cup was brought to his lips and he sipped at room-temperature water that had a musty taste. He tried to make his eyes focus and asked again. "Helena?"

He could feel the other's hesitation. "Not... not the one you know. Lie still now. It takes a while to recover from the blasts. Paul keeps it set higher than normal."

"I noticed." He lay back, trying to relax the muscles that were cramping from the shock to his nervous system. "You're all right?"

"Yes," she said softly. His eyes were closed so he couldn't see her nod. "It was the shock of seeing... you. I fainted." She paused before continuing, her voice full of melancholy. " I used to be stronger than that." She sounded so weary.

A wet cloth was placed on his forehead and he relaxed to her ministrations. "I'm afraid I don't have anything for the pain."

He started to shake his head, then thought better of it. "That's okay. It'll pass. What happened to..." He wasn't sure how to ask.

"They're gone," she answered, knowing who he spoke of. "As soon as you went down, Paul turned the weapon on them, but Alan got her away, back to their Eagle."

"They went back to Alpha?" Just asking short questions was incredibly tiring.

"I don't know where they went. Fortunately, neither do the others. Rest while you can. I'll bring you food later."

John complied because he needed to, not because he wanted to. Sleep came quickly.

He vaguely remembered eating, then sleeping again. He had been hit by a laser before, but it had never felt like this. Whatever Paul had done to that weapon, it was certainly effective. He tried to be glad that Carter and Helena had managed to escape. He was abruptly awakened in pre-dawn light by the sounds of a scuffle.

"Not yet," he heard Helena's voice pleading. "He's still recovering."

"He works," Paul insisted. "Just as we all work, here."

John opened his eyes to see Paul step through the doorway. He pushed Helena roughly away from him and headed for the pallet where John lay. Helena hit the floor hard, and John got up to go to her aid. Paul grabbed him by the upper arm.

"Your people left you here, Koenig. You'll earn your keep, as we all do."

"Paul, what's happened to you?"

"I had to learn how to survive. You will work, or you will starve. That's the way things are around here."

Koenig was pushed roughly out the door and half dragged along a path that led to an open field. Three others waited there. One stood in some sort of harness made from the safety straps used aboard the Eagles. He was placed in an identical harness which was hooked to a plough. While he and the other in harness pulled, two others guided the ploughs as they made their way across the dry and rocky field.

He recognized the two guiding the ploughs. They had been security guards, big and bulky and probably in better shape to pull a plough than he was. They had been the pair to arrive with Commissioner Simmonds and were stuck on Alpha like the rest of them. The other man in harness made no comment and John could not place him. His hair was long, stringy and brown. He never looked at John and never made a noise, simply struggled to continue to plough the rocky earth. All wore the shapeless and poorly made robes just like the others he had seen.

Although the day started out cool, it was hot once the sun came up, and dry. Paul's eldest arrived mid-morning with a battered plastic jug of water, which the four men shared silently. The others didn't talk, merely drank and returned sullenly to work. At noon they stopped at the edge of the field where another full bottle and a flat loaf of bread had been left. John was still too much in a daze to question anything. He did understand the need to pitch in if he were to become a member of the little community-- without an Eagle he didn't have much choice—but something seemed wrong here.

They ploughed the field all day. The straps rubbed his shoulders raw. Even to his untrained eye he could tell the soil would not grow much. It was sandy, rocky, and dry. He tried to ask the others what would grow here, but got no answer. When the sun went down he was unharnessed from the plough and one of the others took him by the arm and tugged him back toward the village.

There were a half dozen geodesic domes in the settlement and a few shacks that seemed to have been made from the superstructure of disassembled Eagles. He was led to one of those and shoved roughly inside.

He picked himself up off the dingy floor of the shack and realized this must have been where he was this morning. It was dark, but he could see two pallets made from Alphan blankets in either corner of the shed. There was no plumbing, and no sign of any food storage. Perhaps they all ate in a common area? He turned back to the door and took in the community for the first time.

All was quiet. The trees, all tall and slender, held too few leaves to provide much shade. There were few bushes underneath and they also looked dry and either dead or dormant, despite the heat. There was a barrel at the corner of the shack and gutters to connect run-off from the roof. He walked to the barrel and was about to splash some water on his dusty face when he saw Helena approach with a small basket.

"The rain-water is used for drinking. The drought has been too bad this year to waste it on a luxury like bathing."

He gave her a wry grin. "At this point, I'm not sure it's a luxury."

There was a hint of smile at her lips to show she appreciated a joke, then she looked away, almost embarrassed. "It's not an easy place to live. We've done the best we could."

"I didn't say you hadn't. But, I have to tell you, I'm a bit confused about what's going on here."

She motioned him to a bench that sat outside the door.  She set the basket between them and removed the reed cover. There were two small loaves of bread and some kind of gray paste that didn't look too appetizing. There was also an Alphan mug with a cover on it. She opened it and handed it to him. It was a thin vegetable stew.

He winced as he brought the cup to his lips. He tried to rub his shoulder, but his collarbone burned. "From that harness, I suppose."

"You ploughed all day?" She stood, concerned. Without asking permission, she moved to his other side, unzipped his shirt and looked at the skin, rubbed raw beneath the uniform. "You should have switched off."

"I got the feeling I wasn't supposed to be asking questions. No one was particularly friendly."

She sighed and directed him to take off the shirt. He set down the cup of stew and complied. She disappeared inside and returned quickly with a small clay pot. It contained something with a paste-like consistency and gave off a minty smell. She rubbed it over the raw spots from chest to shoulder blades.

"What is it?"

"Cures whatever ails you... mainly because it's all I have. Dr. Koenig's Patented Snake Oil," she said with a smile.

He started at the name. She blushed and looked down. She closed the lid on the clay pot and set it aside. "We were married. Right after we arrived here. For the first five years, everything was... good. Hard, but good. We worked hard; we built these little communities. We completely stripped the moonbase and concentrated on making a life for ourselves here. We had... hopes."

She offered him one of the loaves and tore a piece off the other loaf and dipped it in the gray paste. She offered the paste to him, but he took a bite of the bread and shook his head to decline the paste.

"Things got harder. The drought was bad, very bad. We lost... nearly half our people, including most of the newborns. I was pregnant and so was Regina. John and Alan were so worried. The drought got worse and worse. Alan came to John with a plan. There was still one working Eagle. They could return to Alpha, pull one of the large water tanks and replace the cargo section of the Eagle with it then head to the lunar south pole, carve out lunar ice to fill the water tank and bring it back here. They thought they might be able to try boring down into the Arctic ice cap for potable water as well, although with the axis shift, I'm afraid all the ice there may be as contaminated as the rest of the planet."

John remembered his trip to the duplicate moon, their discovery; the disturbing autopsy Helena performed. "Their Eagle crashed on the moon, near Alpha. We found them before coming here," he said quietly.

"They never returned," Helena said, almost as if she hadn't heard him. She stared into the night. "We had no way to communicate with them, no way to know what happened."

"We took them back to our Alpha. Helena said..." he swallowed. "She said they died on impact. Most likely the Eagle malfunctioned... It was... quick."

She barely moved. She simply closed her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "All these years... I was so afraid that he was trapped up there, air running out, no food, perhaps injured."

"What happened here?" John was almost afraid to ask about the baby she had been expecting.

"The water supply here... was so low. The crops failed. We were starving. Regina miscarried two months after John and Alan... left. My own baby... lived only a few hours." Her voice was barely a whisper. "We managed to keep Sandra's baby alive, and she had another two years later. They're the only ones who have survived."

John didn't know what to say. He stared out at the night and waited for her to continue, thinking about a baby who had died. Was that baby somehow part his? And Helena's? He wondered again, if this were somehow part of their future, or a parallel future? Had they now changed that future by him being stranded here? Would he ever see her again?

Her voice, so close by, startled him. "Being here... has changed us all. We used to be friends. When we first came, it was a real community. Now... Kano mourns the loss of his computers and keeps to himself. Victor mostly lives in his own world, gardening, observing the weather. Paul's anger overcomes him more and more often."

"He pushed you this morning," John noted.

"It's not the first time. He rules here. And he keeps us alive, sometimes it seems to be by the sheer intensity of his anger."

John turned to her. "He's hit you?"

"Not often," she whispered. "I've learned to stay out of his way. Sandra bears the brunt of it, but she idolizes him. He can do no wrong in her eyes."

"I wouldn't have thought..."

"We are out of our element here.  Surviving here is almost beyond us. I don't think we'll manage into another generation." It was a more fatalistic attitude than he could ever imagine hearing from the woman he knew as Helena. He remembered her fiery retorts when he first met her about not needing heroes. What must this woman have been through?

She stood, their dinner over. "You should sleep. Morning will come early and the work tomorrow will be no easier than today."

He rubbed his shoulders. "I'm not sure my shoulders can pull that plough all day again tomorrow."

"I'll talk to Al. He was one of the ones you worked with today. They shouldn't have kept you in the harness the entire time.  Did you suggest changing off?"

He shook his head and stood, already stiff from sitting. "I got the feeling I was low man on the totem pole. They wouldn't even answer questions, so I kept quiet."

She gave him a somber and searching look. "That's not like... you."

He met her eyes and thought about that with surprise. No, it wasn't like him. Perhaps he was more affected by that blast than he had thought. "Tomorrow will be better," he said with determination. He turned and walked into the shack, sitting on the pallet and pulling off his boots.

He barely heard her say, "That would be a first."

She gathered the dishes back into the basket and walked away. He didn't hear her return to bed.

Al put him behind the plough without a word. He found that wasn't any easier. At mid-day, one of the others handed him a tattered rag to tie around the palms of his hands, which were already blistering. Helena would have to doctor him again this evening.

The evening meal wasn't much different from the night before. Helena took care of his hands without comment. Although he was famished, Helena finished before him and pulled a spindle from the basket and sat spinning yarn while he finished eating. He noticed that she had eaten very little, less than half of the bread and none of the soup. He headed for bed as soon as he ate.

Over the next few days he became more accustomed to the work, although he knew he was losing weight, burning more calories than he took in. They plowed endlessly. He began to notice other teams in the fields, some planting the fields they had plowed, others ahead of them, pulling the larger rocks from the field and stacking them along the edges. Some carefully bringing precious water to the fields to water the seeds and seedlings.

He finally figured out who Al was. Al had been a Nobel-prize winning physicist. He had been a tall bear of a man with thick glasses and a dreamy expression who seldom spoke. He had been working on cutting edge engine development for the next generation of space vehicles. It had been evident to John that he was probably Alpha's best hope for developing new technology to expand their options. He had given the man all the support possible on Alpha. Here, he was silent, distant and focused solely on plowing this field. He weighed less, his glasses were gone. In homespun robes rather than Alphan uniform he looked like a completely different person.

He learned that the Alphans had divided into five villages, each with about sixty people. He asked Al if there was much trade between the villages and he shook his head.

"There was at first. We cobbled a few crystal radios that could work in line-of site, but the Van Allen Belts are completely out of whack here and radio waves don't bounce off the atmosphere as they used to. So communication was only from traveling from one place to the next. We would exchange seeds and crops that had done particularly well. After the drought came, well then no one was doing any better, then we got a message from the nearest village, some kind of illness. That happened after Paul was in charge, and he sent the Doc to see if she could help. By the time she got there, they were all sick or dying. Cholera, she said. Their water source was contaminated. She stayed with them ‘til the end, and Paul didn't want to let her back when she returned – said she might be contaminated too. But we needed a doctor and she was determined. Stayed in that little shack in quarantine with no one going near her.  Regina Carter took her food, and the Doc told Regina what to do if anyone needed medical attention. It was nearly a year before Paul would let anyone approach her."

"The other communities?"

"We don't know. It takes all our effort just to feed ourselves. There's no one we can spare."

"Paul and Sandra's kids are the only ones to survive?"

Al nodded. "A few lived almost to their first birthday. Broke our hearts every time." Al turned back to the plow and the others followed him silently.

By the end of the first week, his uniform was in tatters. It wasn't designed to be worn under a harness to pull a plow. Al warned him they would be on water duty soon, as would nearly everyone else in the village.  It was the only way to keep the crops from dying.

After work one day, Al led him the other direction from the village to a spot downstream on the small riverbed. A trickle of brown water filled a shallow basin and the four workers from his plowing team stripped off their robes and washed in the basin. There were worn and frayed towels waiting for them, and clean robes. There was a robe for him as well. Al gathered up his uniform with the rest of the team's filthy robes and left them in a bin with others that would be taken and laundered together by someone in the community.

John's new attire was as ill fitting as everyone else's. The material was soft and worn, but thick and durable; better woven than it had been sewn. The sleeves were wide, but short on him. He looked more like the others now, and his beard had a week's growth on it too. The other two left as soon as they had washed. They'd not said a word to him all week. Al remained behind and waited while John tied the belt at his waist.

"We eat together on Friday nights. It's not much, but it gives a change to the week."

John nodded and accompanied Al back to the village.

Perhaps it was the bath, or perhaps he was getting used to the hard manual labor, but he felt better tonight. He got in line with the others and took a bowl of thin stew from Sandra and a hard flat roll from Helena. Tables had been placed nearby. They were the plastic tables with molded seats from Alpha. They had never been particularly comfortable, but they were better than sitting on the ground. The stew had no meat in it, but even on Alpha they hadn't had meat since Breakaway. To his surprise, after eating, Victor had appeared with his violin in hand, and Paul's son brought out Paul's old guitar. The two played old folk songs together and a few people danced. John watched for a while and saw Helena sitting next to Sandra watching the dancers wistfully. John stood and moved to her side.

"Can I have the next dance?" he asked formally.

He could see that Helena was about to shake her head and decline, but Sandra nudged her. "Go on, Helena. It's been ages since you've danced."

Helena stood, still reluctant. "It could be so long that I've forgotten how."

"I doubt that," John said with a smile, taking her hand. "As I recall, you like to dance."

She met his eyes, both recalling the first New Year's Eve after Breakaway. They had danced together at the party in the rec room. At midnight he had kissed her softly; their first kiss. The song changed, a fast reel; it was obviously a favorite with the villagers and a cheer went up. They joined the line of dancers.

"I don't know this one," John admitted.

"You'll catch on," Helena encouraged. "Just watch the man next to you."

They moved together and apart as the others did along the line, joining hands, twirling and dancing up the line at their turn. When it was over they were both breathless and laughing.

"I think that's enough excitement for me. Everyone will be turning in soon anyway."

John walked away from the dancers with her towards the shack he was still sharing with her. A slower song was playing now, but the music stopped before they reached the shack. He opened the door for her and the makeshift hinges creaked and groaned. John looked at the door. "I could fix that," he offered.

"That would be wonderful," she replied. "When the windstorms come in the winter, I'm always afraid it will rattle off."

"Does it get cold?"

"Cold? Yes. But it rarely snows. We just get these tremendous winds coming over the hills from the ocean. It's bitter cold and the wind just cuts through you. It also blows away more topsoil each year, exposing those rocks you see in the fields."

"I wondered how there could be so many if you had farmed there before." He sat down on his mat. It was dark now and Helena had not lit the oil lamp she had. She used it only for emergencies.

"The soil is poor and it's so dry. We've tried to find some kind of cover crop to grow, but nothing survives that wind." She lay down on the mattress on the other side of the room.

"Helena?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, John?"

What about the other communities? Al said there were six to begin with."

"The one nearest to us... they're all dead. We lost touch with the others. I hope they've fared better than we have."

"But you don't know?"

"We have no way of contacting them, and no one to spare to send out to find them." Both were quiet for a while. "John?"

"Yes, Helena?"

"I know... you. You're going to want to suggest changes, improvements. Paul is our leader now, and he will resent that. He's managed to keep us alive, but your shadow hangs over him all the time. Now, with you here..."

"I understand that he's in charge, but surely he doesn't make all the decisions, dictate everything you do."

"This is not Alpha, and it's not the Earth we left behind. There is no... social structure here. Paul is in charge and no one has challenged him. It could be ... dangerous." He could hear her turn over and realized the conversation was over. It was a long time before he managed to sleep.

It took him a while to realize what the sound was that woke him. Helena was crying. The sound was so soft that it almost felt like he had dreamed it, but the longer he listened to her irregular breathing and small sniffs the more he knew she was crying. He sat up.

"Helena?" He said it softly. Perhaps she was asleep.

The sound stopped. It stopped so completely he knew that she must be awake and holding her breath to keep from making any noise. He made his way across the dark cabin to her side. He reached out and touched her shoulder.

"Helena?"

She let out a ragged sigh. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"What's wrong?"

"I miss him." She said finally, face toward the wall, body curled tightly. "I miss him so badly. Seeing you, having you near, hearing your voice, and knowing, finally, what happened to him. It hurts so much I can barely function."

He had felt something of that hurt every time he had seen her. How much worse must it be for her? She had lived with that man as his wife, made a home with him, planned a family, taken comfort in his arms. He and his own version of this woman had mainly wishes and dreams, and he still missed her. He hoped she was somewhere safe with the other Alphans on that vanished moon, but he knew she was lost to him.

Hesitantly, he reached out and stroked her hair. He could think of no words of comfort.

At first, she stiffened, and he stopped, wondering if he should return to the other side of the cabin and leave her with her grief. Then she relaxed, shifting slightly to encourage his touch. He lay on the mattress beside her and held her close. In his comforting embrace, they both returned to the blissful oblivion of sleep.

As he grew stronger over the next few weeks and learned more about the way the village worked, he began to think about ways to improve their situation. But he remembered Helena's words of caution and for a while he held his tongue. After the night they danced, he no longer used the pallet on the other side of the cabin, although all he did was hold her as she slept. He shared his suggestions with Helena over their suppers together and later as they lay together before falling asleep. She was able to tell him the flaws in his suggestions, and there were many. The Alphans' resources were extremely limited. They had no way to obtain metals, wood, paper products. They were literally reduced to stone age implements as their equipment from Alpha wore out. They were trying so hard, but meeting with obstacles at every turn.

"Victor said there was some sort of civilization here... ruins. Isn't there anything in them that could help?"

"Nothing. Before we left Alpha the ruins were examined and dated. It's been thousands of years. It seemed to be a very advanced civilization, but little remains behind. Certainly nothing of use to us such as metals for tools or pipes. Anything metal oxidized long ago. And the structures themselves are nothing more than crumbling ruins. They're not safe to enter."

"I still wonder about the other villages. Perhaps there..."

"John, the climate is the same. This is the ‘best' spot on the planet, and that's not saying much. Perhaps we made a mistake coming down here."

"Whose decision was it?"

"Yours... his. We looked over all the data, and it seemed that this would be the best long-term solution. I still think it was. But we didn't count on the extremes in weather, the drought."

They continued their conversation the next morning when they awoke. John felt an urgency to do something to help these people – his people, whether he was the same person who led them here or some strange duplicate, this was where he was now and here, with these people, he would have to make a life. When he looked up in the sky now, he saw only one moon. The others had gone to meet their destiny elsewhere.

At the doorway to their shack, she turned to latch the door firmly behind them. John turned to her and took her elbow as she stepped down. Touching Helena came to him as naturally as breathing.

He never saw the blow coming. One moment he was talking to Helena, the next he was on the ground, his jaw erupting in fireworks of pain.

"You'll sleep in the single men's dormitory from now on. The doctor's spare bed is for the injured."

Helena was kneeling by his shoulder almost before he could respond. One hand held tightly to his shoulder, preventing him from rising by simple leverage. The other gently probed his mouth for missing teeth.

John laid a hand on top of hers and she used her sleeve to wipe the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I'm okay," he murmured.

"Don't – " she started.

"I know."

He came to his feet and helped Helena up, rubbing his jaw gingerly. There was no permanent damage to teeth or bone, but it would hurt like crazy.

"That won't be necessary, Paul," he said, looking at the crowd they were gathering. "If the bed is needed, it will be available."

"So, you're sleeping with her now. I should have know," Paul said with disgust. Somehow the beard and the robe gave Paul a biblical air and he raised his voice to the level of a revival preacher. "Do not be taken in by this man. He is the devil himself. He is the one who brought us here. It's because of him our children have died, our crops have failed, our friends have withered away before our eyes. You must not befriend him." Paul's eyes surveyed the crowd as he spoke, lingering on Al's face a beat before returning to Helena. "Then he deserted us in our darkest hour. How can you, Helena? With poor Regina fresh in her grave."

Helena shuddered with anger, and this time it was John's hand on her shoulder gently restraining her. Paul was mixing him up with that other man, but the crowd, overworked and undernourished, was willing to buy into Paul's rhetoric.

He looked at Paul for a moment, then forced himself to lower his eyes in a blatant form of submission. If he didn't back down he was likely to get Helena and himself stoned.

"I'm only looking to survive, like everyone else. I'd better get to work." He held still, refusing to challenge Paul by meeting his eyes. He felt as if he were dealing with a pack of wolves rather than old friends.

Helena quivered with anger next to him, but followed his cue. She relaxed beneath his hand and he let her go. "I have laundry to do," she said softly, moving toward the center of the little village without looking directly at Paul or John. Two of the women peeled away from the group and followed her.

It was Al and his small team that moved next, heading toward the fields. John followed them without another word.

John kept to himself all day. He concentrated on the physical effort of carrying water to the sprouting plants. He, Al, and three others worked a field of tiny green shoots that would one day yield cotton. The next field was full of soy, the village's only hope of protein. A kitchen garden was closer to the edge of the village, growing a variety of squash, beans and greens. There was a field of corn further out. Al had told him they had never succeeded in growing any other grains in the poor soil.

By the end of the day he knew what he had to do, but not how to accomplish it. He tried once to ask Al about the other settlements, but Al knew nothing. When they evacuated Alpha everyone was given a chance to sign up for the various communities. Groups of friends and co-workers frequently signed up for the same settlement. Only a few people, such as medical personnel, were not given as much choice. There were four medical doctors, each was asked to choose a different community. The nursing staff was likewise asked to divide themselves among the villages. But Al couldn't help with locations or directions. He had spent the last ten years here, tending the fields.

At the end of the day John headed for Helena's shack, unsure of the reception that awaited him; but Helena was alone, with their usual basket of supper. She sat on the bench outside the door, ubiquitous spindle in hand. She stood when she saw him and for a moment they simply stared at each other.

"I need to talk to Victor," he finally said.

Helena reached for the basket on the bench. "We'll go the back way."

He followed her behind the shack and around a sparse copse of trees. He could see the scattered domes and shacks, but the route they took approached none. She turned farther away from the small dwellings. It was dark, but that didn't slow her down. When a cloud scudded away from the moon, her hair, pulled back in a knot at the nape of her neck, gleamed in front of him.

They came upon one of the domes surrounded by makeshift tables made from pieces of Eagles that had been disassembled and packing containers from Alpha. Every table was filled with what appeared to be random clutter: small bits of electronics, lenses, tools, pots, plastic containers, small cuttings of plants being rooted in pyrex flasks of all shapes and sizes. This had to be Victor's place.

Soft whistling came from the other side of the dome. John recognized it as Bach, one of the Goldberg variations, and a favorite of Victor's.

He was trimming rose bushes by the light of a spotlight attached to the front of the small cottage. A battery of solar cells provided the energy for the light.

"Victor."

"Ah, John. And Helena. How pleasant."

Victor motioned them inside and began to heat a pot of water, pulling down cups from a shelf, dusting them off with a finger.

Helena set the basket on a table by the door and with a silent gesture, instructed John to clean off the table and chairs.

In short order the tea was steeping in a pot in front of them and Helena had laid out their meager supper, including a small pot of stew, which she found on the shelf waiting for Victor to eat.

"Now, isn't this like old times," Victor said as he sat comfortably on one of the plastic chairs from Alpha.

John was a bit taken aback by Victor's behavior. Helena caught his eye and gave a small shake of the head. He was finding that no matter whether this was the Helena he had known and loved or not, they communicated well on a non-verbal level. "Yes, it is. Just like our time on Alpha."

And it was. Frequently, on Alpha, he had joined Victor and Helena for dinner; talking over the status of Alpha, their hopes and plans for the future, and sometimes, of their past on Earth. The three had become close friends, sharing the dangers of their travels and sometimes shielding the other Alphans from the worst of their situations.

"You've been away," Victor said, spooning up his soup and nodding thanks to Helena as she poured the rosehip tea.

"I have," John said cautiously. "Longer than I planned to."

"Leaving Paul in charge," Victor said wit a shake of his head. "He's really not cut out for it. He should have been a musician, you know – would have been, if not for his father."

John felt confused and frustrated. This was not the conversation he wanted to have, but Helena picked up the thread now and pressed her leg against his under the table, advising caution.

"Paul has done the best he could, but he does struggle at the task."

Victor looked up at John. "And your return will make him feel even more insecure. The burden of command weighs heavily on him."

John shook his head. "You don't have to tell me about the burdens of command."

"But you were meant for the task," Victor assured him. "You have the ability to make a decision and see that it's carried out. Paul agonizes over the least decision."

John saw an opening to draw the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. "Be that as it may. It's his task now. And I can't stay here."

Helena looked stricken, but unsurprised.

"If I stay, someone is bound to get hurt. It could even be that people would take sides. We can't afford that in a community of this size. Victor, do we have a map of where all the villages are?"

Victor drained his soup and looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. "Yes, I... there should be one around here somewhere." Victor stood and began searching through the clutter on every shelf and available surface.  "I know Kano printed it out for me. I intended to post it somewhere..." He continued to mutter softly as he moved from stack to stack.

"You're planning to go to one of the other settlements?"  Helena asked softly.

"All of them, if I have to. Helena, if I stay, something bad will eventually happen." He sat forward, urging her to understand his position. "Even without Paul's... insecurity, this is not a thriving community. How long do you think they have, another five years? Ten? Assuming the crops don't fail before then."

Helena looked down at the remains of their meager dinner. She reached for his hand and held it tight.

He put his other hand over hers. "Perhaps there's something out there that can help."

"Here it is!" Victor pulled a large sheet of plastic film from a top shelf.

John and Helena cleared the table again. Victor spread out a map of what had once been Southern California. The relief map showed elevations in curving red lines. North of Los Angeles, well inland from the Pacific were the Sierra Madre mountains. Spread in a circle around the outskirts of the mountain range were the six communities. Helena pointed out the southernmost site on the banks of the Sisquoc River. At least that's what the trickle of water was called on the map. It hardly deserved a name.

"This is where we are," she said.

"And the one that was lost?"

Helena pointed again, north and west along the valley. "It's about a day's walk from here. There are no roads, or even signs there ever were roads."

"Victor, you said there was some sort of advanced civilization here once."

"Thousands of years ago. Much too long ago to be anything more than ruins now."

John looked at the other two. "was it... our civilization, the one we came from?"

"We really have no way of knowing, John. We weren't equipped to investigate, even before we dismantled Alpha," Victor said.

"There were no anthropologists or archeologists on Alpha," reminded Helena.

"No, not much need, was there?" John replied.

He placed his finger on the settlement to the east of theirs. "How about this one?"

"It's across the mountains," Victor explained. "We hope we would be within walking distance of each community to either side, to encourage communication and trade, but that was our weakest link with the mountains in between."

"We chose Tony Verdeschi to lead that community," Helena said.

"The security chief? A good man, if a bit young," John said, contemplating the contour lines between the two settlements.

"He seemed very capable, and very optimistic. He understood they would be more isolated than the other communities, since it would be difficult to cross through the mountains," Helena said. "John, he also knew that despite the natural spring at the site, there would likely be less rainfall on that side of the mountains."

John looked into Helena's eyes. "So, you don't think they could make it?"

She returned his gaze steadily. "I don't know."

John stared at the map some more. Vandenburg Air Force Base was on the coast to the west. Someone had hand-drawn a new coastline miles further out. He looked up, questioning as his finger traced the new coast.

"The axial shift caused large increases in the polar ice caps, lowering the level of the ocean," Victor explained.

John nodded. He had trained at Vandenburg as a young pilot. He remembered fishing along this very river with a group of buddies. There was something about that fishing trip that tickled the edge of his memory, but he couldn't quite place it.

His finger traced the river upstream from the settlement, then across the mountains to Hog Pen Springs, the location of Tony's village. Perhaps Tony had managed to stay in touch with the others. It was best to start there.

He looked up at Victor. "Can I borrow this? I may be gone awhile, but I'll take good care of it."

"Certainly, certainly. Let me fix some tea for you to take with you." Victor stood and headed to some shelves, found a small plastic bottle and began pouring various dried leaves and powders into it. John felt relief when he saw that Helena was watching carefully.

Soon Victor was handing over the packet and wishing John godspeed as he had done before on Alpha and even prior to Breakaway on Earth. They had been friends a long time. John was still seeing everyone through a double-vision of his recent associates on Alpha and these doppelgangers of Earth. Helena slid her hand into his as they made their way back around the settlement. It felt so natural to walk hand-in-hand with her in the moonlight.

"When do you plan to go?" she asked softly, her voice strained.

"The sooner, the better. Tomorrow night, I think. I don't suppose you can find my old uniform?"

"There wasn't much left after you spent a week in harness. I may be able to round up something though. I'll see if I can manage an extra loaf or two of bread."

They were at the door of the shack they shared. He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Moonlight lit her face, but her eyes were hooded.

"You are not to do anything to get yourself in trouble," his was the voice of command.

She smiled up at him. "I've managed for quite some time to stay out of trouble on my own." She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. "But you do have a knack for keeping things interesting, John Koenig."

John drew her inside and they moved to her bed together. Through another unspoken agreement, they decided if they were already accused publicly of dong a certain thing, they might as well take comfort from the doing of it.

The next day was difficult to endure. Never a patient man, waiting for evening was harder than anything. At the same time, the thought of leaving Helena behind was excruciatingly painful, especially after last night. By the time the sunset called a halt to the day's work he was wound tight as a spring. He knew if he encountered Paul he would be unable to diffuse any confrontation.

Fortunately, there was no sign of Paul. But when he reached Helena's place, there was no sign of her either. He stood by the bench where they normally met until he realized the door was wide open.

He stepped inside and stopped, eyes adjusting to the dim light. She stood by the bed, dressed for travel in a black nylon flight suit tucked into pilot's boots. She held out a similar outfit to him.

"Where did you get these?"

"I've been saving them," she said with a vague wave of a hand. "They aren't at all practical for around here, so there was no need to wear them. But they'll do nicely for travel."

"They will at that," he agreed, zipping up his suit, happy to be in pants once more. "You cut your hair."

She brought her hand to her head self-consciously. "It will be easier for travel."

He pulled her into his arms. "I liked it long," remembering the look of it curling around her bare shoulders the night before.

"It'll grow back," she assured him. She touched his cheek. "I have to go with you. I can't bear to lose you again."

He held her tightly. "I couldn't ask you to go. But I hated the thought of leaving you behind." He pulled back a bit, touching the gray strands in her shortened hair, the lines on her gaunt face. That double vision was beginning to fade. "Not her," he assured her. "You."

She nodded solemnly. "I don't want to lose you."

He kissed her again, feeling somehow more bound to this woman than if they had exchanged marriage vows.

The light outside was fading. She handed him a backpack. From the side meshed pocked he could see Victor's map. She shouldered two makeshift canteens filled with water. Hand in hand they made their way outside, toward the river and away from the villages.

"Damn."

John sat down on a boulder and pulled the map out of the backpack once more, Helena sat beside him and peered over his shoulder.

"Those little red lines aren't particularly helpful are they?" she said, sounding more amused than annoyed.

"I think you're enjoying this."

She smiled and shrugged. "The sun is shining, the air is warm, I'm not doing laundry or cooking.  Why shouldn't I enjoy it?"

He looked at her. She was more relaxed than he had seen her look since he had been here. "You don't like to cook?"

"Hate it. But it has to be done," she said pragmatically.

John nodded. She had undoubtedly been doing many things over the past few years that had to be done whether she liked it or not. He looked at the sheer drop-off next to them. "We can't go any farther in this direction. We'll have to back-track – again."

Helena handed him the canteen and pulled the last loaf of bread from his backpack. "Let's eat first."

They split the loaf of bread and were on their way again. They had followed the river until the full moon was high. Then they slept under the stars. The next morning they left the river and headed north and east into the hills.  Three times now they had backtracked from an impassable cliff or rock wall. This time they returned down the hillside and started around the other side of the ridge.

There were no paths to follow, no animals to make trails, and their map was from another time entirely, if this were even the same Earth. But John was determined and Helena optimistic. Her belief in him kept him going. That, and knowing what lay behind them. They couldn't give up, but time was running out.

He squinted up at the ridge, pointed out the way he planned to go, then headed up the hill with more confidence than he felt.

This ridge didn't end in a straight drop-off, but was high enough at the top to give a good view of the surrounding area. John waited for Helena to come up beside him and pointed down the next valley.

"Look there."

"That green?" She looked up at him. "A field, you think?"

"A good possibility," John said with a grin.

"Let's hope so."

They made their way down the hill, around the next ridge and through a small wash. As John climbed up the bank he saw a movement to his left. He reached down to help Helena up, but continued to look around. What had moved? There were no animals here.

Helena sensed his caution and stood next to him, looking around. She spotted the movement next, as a dark curly head rose above a pile of boulders. She stepped forward. "Hello?"

A second head popped up, then two little boys peered around the boulders. One had fair skin, jet black curly hair and gray eyes. The other had skin the color of café au lait and close-cut black hair. The boy with gray eyes said, "Who are you?"

"I'm Helena Koenig. This is John Koenig. Do you live near here?"

"Over there." The other boy said.

"Can you show us where?"

"Sure," The two boys practically bounced with excitement. They led the way, dashing ahead, then returning like outer shell electrons.

"What's your names?" Helena asked the two of them. The taller of the two volunteered the information for both.

"I'm Antonio. He's Cody."

"Well, Antonio, we happen to be looking for someone named Tony. Tony Verdeschi," John said.

"That's my Papa!" the boy said. "I can take you to him."

"What were you two doing up here in the hills?" Helena asked.

"We were hunting," Antonio replied stoutly.

"There aren't really any animals to hunt," Cody confided, moving to walk between John and Helena. "But we like to be ready for anything."

"You found us, didn't you?" John said. "I'd say you were pretty successful."

Both boys lit up with the praise.

"I guess we were!" Antonio said, happily picking up the pace.

They climbed over a small rise and before them was a small valley with a scattering of little round cottages, all red adobe with similarly red roofs. Centered in this valley was a larger, semicircular building with a higher roof and a bank of glass windows. Obviously the center of the small community. This building overlooked the broader valley beyond and the next mountain range to the east. A checkerboard of fields could be seen, each the healthy green of a different crop. There were no trees here, a sign of the limited water supply, but the crops appeared well-tended.

"I'll go get Papa!" Antonio volunteered, unable to contain his pace to that of the adults any longer. Cody was hot on his heels.

John and Helena paused on the hilltop, looking over what appeared to be a thriving community. The two boys they had met were well fed and their clothing was simple—knee length tunics of some kind of knit material – but appeared to be finely made.

"This looks good," Helena said softly.

Yes, it does," John agreed. With a small gesture, they headed down the hill.

They hadn't reached the first small house yet when a delegation headed out to meet them. Tony Verdeschi was in the lead, with Pat Osgood, one of Alpha's engineers, at his side.

"John Koenig!" Tony took John's hands in both of his. "And Dr. Koenig. Welcome! We haven't heard from anyone on your side of the mountains in years! What brings you here?"

A pretty blonde woman, also with Tony, stepped forward. "Now, Tony. They've just arrived, and are obviously tired. Let's let them have a chance to rest and refresh themselves before you begin asking questions."

John showered and changed into the cotton slacks and long shirt like everyone seemed to wear here. The material was thin and stretched. Instead of thick woven cotton, it appeared to be tightly knitted. In the warm sunshine, the lightweight outfit seemed comfortable and practical. He returned to the plaza in front of the large community building to find Tony waiting for him. They sat together on a low stone wall that bordered the plaza. Tony poured two glazed clay goblets of golden liquid from a ceramic jug and handed one to John.

"Wine?"

"We have a vineyard just up the hill in this canyon. This is from last season's crop. Not bad, really." Tony took a sip and urged John to taste.

"That's quite good," John said, almost surprised.

People were beginning to gather, bringing chairs, tables, dishes to the plaza for a common meal. He could smell something cooking, but couldn't tell what it was. Everyone in the community seemed to be well-fed and cheerful, and the visitors seemed like a fine occasion for an impromptu party.

"You seem to have done well here. This looks like a fine place."

"We've managed. Things were hard at first, but we have good people, and got some lucky breaks." Antonio and Cody dashed out of the center of the building, with an older woman dashing behind them shouting in what seemed to be Arabic. "Excuse me," Tony said, quickly setting down his wine and heading for the boys. He stepped around a pair of men setting up a table and caught each boy by an ear as they tried to twist away from the woman. In soft tones, he spoke to the woman, then the boys, twisting Antonio's ear just a bit harder until he elicited a correct response from him. Then he sent the two boys back inside under the gaze of the woman to correct their error. Sending each off with a firm tap on the seat of their pants to remind them to behave.

By the time he returned to John, Helena had arrived, fresh from the women's bathing room. He poured a cup of wine for her.

"Tony, that bath is marvelously refreshing." Helena said. Hot running water was something she hadn't seen in a long time. "How did you accomplish it?"

Pat Osgood showed up, as if on cue. "He had the advantage of bringing along a really good engineer," Pat laughed. "Solar heated water, and that spring up the hill supplies enough water for us and our crops."

"Pat worked out quite a water-works system," Tony said with a smile. "Our fields are irrigated mostly with the spring water, but we also have several cisterns built into the hills around here. It took a lot of effort, but the results were worth it."

Pat and Tony were rightly proud of the improvements they had made. The individual houses didn't have running water, but there were large bathrooms on either side of the community building, and in the center a communal kitchen that was used not only for cooking, but also preserving foods. The plaza was used for various things, from community meals and gatherings, to projects that required wide community support like threshing wheat and ginning cotton. There was also a machining and tools area nearby where repairs were made to their machines, including the old moon buggies which were pressed into service for plowing, harvesting and hauling.

There were at least a dozen children scattered among those dining together as the sun set that evening. Cody was the son of Bob Mathias, who was the leader of the community closest to them. Cody and Antonio each spent time in the other community, in order to get to know each other. Bob and Tony hoped it would foster cooperation in the next generation.

The cotton knit cloth was manufactured by Bob's community. Cotton was cultivated by both villages and the cotton was spun into thread and then knit into material on machines created by engineers in Bob's village. By chance, one of those engineers was from Massachusetts and his sister was a historian who had published a book shortly before Breakaway on the New England cloth industry of the early 1800s. Her detailed account had given her brother the information needed to design water driven machinery to spin and knit cloth. Both villages benefited from it.

John and Helena learned all these things during a very informal dinner in the plaza. They were greeted by nearly everyone in the community. Tony's wife Carolyn made sure they had plenty to eat and were comfortable, and she had also arranged for them to have one of the small adobe huts, similar to a Navajo Hogan, readied for their use.

As dinner drew to a close and the sun went down, torches were lit along the wall and Tony asked John again how he and Helena came to be there. The others grew quiet and John rose to speak so all could hear. He and Helena had debated how much to tell Tony, assuming they found him. Did they really need to tell him that the John Koenig who had brought his people to this world had died five years before and he was from some different reality? As he looked at the faces of the people before him he realized that in order to gain their trust he must trust them with the truth.

He talked about the two moons, and the storm and his arrival in this system. He told about finding the crashed Eagle on the other moon and Regina Kesslan's death. He told about coming here, hoping to find shelter for his people in this, the only spot on the planet that was still livable. He told about being left behind when the people of the other village thought that Helena had died. The other moon had vanished, his own people gone to meet their own destiny while he was left here. He talked about the status of the village, the drought, the crops barely growing, the population dwindling and the nearby village, wiped out by disease. The only thing he didn't mention was Paul's instability and his fear that Paul would not only threaten him, but retaliate against Helena.  

The others were silent after he finished, sad for those lost, and concerned for the survivors. John sat again. Helena took his hand and held it tightly. Tony stared thoughtfully into the air before turning to them. He spoke first to Helena.

"Helena, our condolences on your loss. It's also hard to take in that so many others have died. John, hopefully by coming here, you'll be able to help them in some fashion. We'll need to think about this and decide how we can best help. I think everyone agrees we should come up with some way to help." There were nods from the adults in the group.

The sun had set and the temperature was dropping. As quickly as the banquet was assembled, it was over. Several people stopped to speak to John or Helena before heading into the night to their own homes. Carolyn Verdeschi showed them the way to the house set aside for them.

John slept late the next morning. Helena was up and out long before he stirred. He dressed and stood at the doorway of the small cabin, wondering what he should do next. He spotted Helena just leaving another of the cabins down the hill from him. She walked along with a young woman obviously far along in pregnancy. As they drew closer he recognized the woman as being one of Helena's nurses on Alpha. They chatted easily as they walked up the stone path toward him. The nurse nodded at something Helena said and touched her gratefully on the arm. Helena turned up the path to the cabin where John stood and the nurse nodded in a friendly manner and headed on toward the community building.

"Good morning," Helena said. "You were sound asleep when I woke up."

"I haven't slept that well in ages," John admitted. "I didn't even hear you leave."

"I didn't think so."

"Wasn't that, umm..."

"Peggy. She was one of my nurses."

"Yes. That's right."

"She and her husband were both on my staff. Peggy is hoping I'll be around for a few weeks. They were just about to pack up and head for the next village so she would be near Bob when the baby is born."

"Is that what they've all been doing? Walking twenty miles and staying there until the baby is born and they're up to coming back?"

"Peggy has become quite a good midwife herself. She's delivered nearly all the children here. Don was a med-tech, and has been helping Peggy out as much as he could. But for her last two, yes, she's walked to the next village a couple of weeks before her due date and stayed there."

John shook his head. Having a hard time imagining hiking so far while pregnant.

"There's fresh bread for breakfast up at the community center. And Tony and Pat want to talk to you. You'll probably find them up there as well."

"Are you headed that way too?"

"I might as well. I'm sure someone up there must need an extra set of hands." She looked up at John. "Will we be staying for a while?"

"I'll let you know after I've talked to Tony." He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "It wouldn't be such a bad place to stay."

"No, of course not. I like it here. And I could be useful here." She hesitated and frowned. "I think I could be more useful here that I was before. Perhaps not only for this village, but for all the others."

He pulled her into his arms. "You are invaluable, everywhere. And not only to me. Your knowledge is needed for the next generation."

She leaned against him briefly. "Yes, Peggy and I were just talking about that. She's already teaching the children here basic first aid and biology."

John's stomach rumbled.

"But first, we need to get you some breakfast. Come," she led him back out of the cabin and toward the community center.

Tony was sitting at a table at the edge of the plaza, a large book seated in front of him. The pages of the book were thick and John realized the paper was probably made here. Helena gave him a push in Tony's direction and offered to get him something from the kitchen. Tony welcomed him with a smile, gesturing to the bench across from him.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thanks. What's that, a diary?"

"Diary, log book, account book. I try to keep it up every day, telling about what's happening here, and putting down things that I think future generations should know as it comes to mind," Tony said. "The trick is finding the time."

"I know that feeling," John said with a sympathetic grin.

"I figured you would." Tony smiled, then turned serious. "John, several of us talked far into the night about the information you've brought us. We want to help. We really do. We're just not sure what we can do."

John nodded. Helena returned with a plate of bread and a pitcher of juice. Tony gestured for her to join them and continued.

"We are all saddened by the news that the village you came from is not doing well. We were fortunate with the springs. A reliable water source is quite a blessing. We all had friends in the other villages, and of course we worked with them on Alpha for years before coming here. It's hard to take in that so many of them are gone."

It was hard for John to think about at all. But he'd seen the cold reality.

"The problem is, although we are doing better here, we are in a kind of balance here." Tony talked with his hands, moving them up and down in a palms up gesture to imitate scales. "We have food for our people, but not a surplus. Seed stock for ourselves, but not enough to enlarge the crops by much."

Pat Osgood came out of the building and joined them, sitting next to Tony, across from John and Helena.

"We talked long into the night," Tony continued. "Even if we had extra seed, could your people plant more? Do they have enough water to expand the crops?"

"I'm not sure they have the manpower or the water," John said slowly.

"Nor could we invite them to come here. We don't have the room for them, and would be putting our own food supplies in jeopardy by trying to stretch them."

"We're not trying to be uncooperative," Pat tried to assure them. "But we do have to think about our own community first."

"Of course you do," Helena assured them gently.

"There are some things we could do. Not immediate aid, you understand, but perhaps they could help in the long term," Tony continued. "We can make cuttings of our most successful fruit trees and grape vines. It will take a while for them to mature, but just the promise of some new foodstuffs in the future could give them additional hope."

"The fruit trees were a long term investment," Pat said. "But it has paid off. Also," he glanced at Tony before continuing. Tony nodded. "We might be able to cobble some equipment together to allow them to drill a well. It would have to be deep, very deep, to reach water in that area, and then Helena would have to determine if it would be safe to drink, but our spring water is fine, so chances are, well water could also be fine."

"We do have some solar cells that could be used for electricity for a pump," Helena offered.

"You would be better off with a hand drawn pump, or a windmill," Pat suggested. "In fact, if we set up a windmill, that power could be harnessed to operate the drill."

John turned to Helena. "Do you know if there was any previous attempt to drill a well?"

Helena shook her head. "We didn't have the equipment, or the people to design anything like that."

Pat asked about a few people who had been in the technical section and were assigned to that community, but Helena shook her head. "One died in a rockslide shortly after we landed. The other moved to our neighboring village, the one struck down by cholera, after his wife died in childbirth."

"John, while we don't have the resources to take in everyone," Tony said. "The two of you are welcome to remain with us as long as you wish."

"Thank you, Tony, I appreciate that. We'll do whatever we can to help out around here. Perhaps we can help get some things together to send back to the other village." John knew he didn't intend to return, nor did he want Helena to. But perhaps here they had found some help for their people. Something to give them some hope for the future."

 

 

Ellen & Michael Lindow

Main Fanfic page

Since October 12, 2006