Incident on Asteroid D-44582

A Space: 1999 Short Story

Asteroid D-44582—named and cataloged by an aging central computer back on base—was a cold, forgotten wanderer adrift in the endless black. Its surface bore the scars of countless meteor strikes, craters overlapping like ancient battle wounds. The rock itself was a fractured mix of metallic ore and frozen gases, its jagged ridges glinting faintly beneath the distant light of an unknown sun. Just a silent, unyielding sentinel lost in the vast currents of deep space.

Commander John Koenig’s rover rolled slowly over the rugged terrain, the vehicle’s lights cutting through the darkness of the uncharted asteroid. Moonbase Alpha, situated far from this cold rock, had detected signatures of what could be a highly efficient fuel source buried within its core. This mission wasn’t just routine; it was critical.

Koenig felt the weight of his 56 years, each one etched deeply into his muscles and bones. He glanced back to see the Eagle Transporter glinting in the harsh light, almost as old as him and beginning to show its age. Just as years in space had carved lines into his face, they had also etched similar marks into the body of the lander.

Despite his age, Koenig maintained his fitness—vital for surviving the relentless challenges of space. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were locked onto the scanners integrated into his spacesuit. His hands, encased in thick gloves, gripped the controls with practiced steadiness. The loneliness of space was a familiar companion to him, a presence just as real as the cold, hard grip of the rover’s steering wheel beneath his fingers.

Suddenly, the rover jolted as the ground trembled beneath it. Warning alarms blared, piercing the rover’s low, mechanical hum. Before Koenig could react, the ground cracked open, a dark chasm forming directly under the rover. He barely had time to brace himself as everything plummeted downward. The fall felt like forever, but it was only seconds before the rover slammed into the bottom of a newly formed pit.

Dust and small rocks rained down as the echo of the crash died away in the cavernous expanse below the asteroid’s crust. The dim lights of the rover flickered, casting eerie shadows against the jagged walls. Koenig shook his head to clear the disorientation, pain shooting through his shoulder where he had hit the console. He checked the systems; most were offline or damaged, including his primary communication link back to Moonbase Alpha.

With a blend of frustration and pain, Koenig triggered the rover’s emergency transponder, though he doubted it would breach the asteroid’s dense rock to reach the lunar base. His experience kept him calm; panicking in a crisis is the most perilous reaction. It was crucial to think things through, assess available resources, and devise a plan. He pressed the radio comm button. It still glowed, but the light wavered, pulsing like a dying ember.

“Moonbase Alpha, this is Commander Koenig. I’ve experienced a cave-in. Equipment is damaged… if anyone can hear me, I need extraction.” Only static responded, filling the cabin with its grim silence.

“Moonbase Alpha, this is Koenig. Situation critical. Equipment compromised. If you can hear me, dispatch an extraction team immediately. Transmitting last known coordinates before the cave-in.” He released the mic button, the cabin thick with the crackle of empty static.

His eyes dropped to the comm device embedded in his sleeve, a bulky, circular unit that jutted slightly from the red fabric of his spacesuit. The surface was a chaos of multicolored buttons—green for internal comms, blue for data links, and red for emergency broadcasts—now dulled beneath a thin film of dust. The clear, thin plasteel cover was cracked and splintered, its surface etched with deep scratches from the impact. Beneath the shattered plasteel, the once-sharp indicator lights flickered with a weak, sickly pulse. For a fleeting moment, the glow surged—a brief, defiant flare against the darkness—then faded to black, leaving only the cold, unyielding silence of dead circuitry.

He pressed the main button with his thumb, but it barely shifted under the pressure. The impact that had slammed his shoulder had crippled more than his joints. Jagged burn marks streaked across the device’s surface where the circuits had shorted, leaving the acrid stench of fried electronics clinging to the air inside his helmet.

The silence gnawed at his nerves, more oppressive than the tons of rock pressing down around him.

With a heavy sigh, Koenig powered down the failing systems to conserve what little energy remained. The dim lights faded, leaving him cocooned in shadows. He was alone—maybe more alone than any human had ever been—trapped beneath the crust of a drifting asteroid, countless light-years from Earth. Sitting here wouldn’t get him out. He needed to take stock of his surroundings and figure out a way back to the surface.

With only the light from his helmet beams to guide him, he began his cautious journey through the cavernous underworld of the asteroid. The walls of the cave were uneven and treacherous, making every step a calculated risk. As he ventured deeper, his eyes caught strange markings on the cave walls—symbols that didn’t resemble any natural formation. They were too symmetrical, too intentional. It dawned on him that these could be inscriptions left by an unknown civilization.

As his fingers traced the smooth, alien glyphs, Koenig’s mind drifted to the past. He hadn’t always been an interstellar castaway. His original mission had been far more grounded: overseeing the storage and monitoring of Earth’s radioactive waste on the far side of the Moon. It was supposed to be routine—just a glorified garbage detail, he often joked. But when the disposal sites detonated in a catastrophic explosion, the Moon was ripped from Earth’s orbit and flung into deep space.

Through cosmic vortices and unexplained time warps, they had traveled impossible distances—billions of years from their home. Now, survival was their mission. The responsibilities of his crew weighed heavier than ever. The stakes were no longer just radioactive containment; they were about protecting the lives of everyone aboard Moonbase Alpha as they drifted further into the unknown.

And the only way to do that was to survive his current predicament and get back to being a leader to his crew.

Yet, here in the echoing silence of an alien cave, surrounded by the whispers of a long-gone civilization, he felt the weight of isolation press upon him. He thought about the vastness of space, the countless worlds unexplored, and humanity’s relentless pursuit to reach out into the unknown.

While maneuvering through a particularly narrow passage, he noticed something unnatural—a segment of the wall that didn’t match the surrounding rock formations. Embedded within the asteroid, a panel of unmistakable alien origin was partially exposed. Its surface was smooth and unweathered, contrasting starkly with the aged cave around it. Koenig, feeling the pull of discovery alongside the ever-present tick of his oxygen supply, documented the artifact with his camera and noted its coordinates. The technology was clearly advanced, potentially a source of power or information, but inert and enigmatic.

A faint, ghostly light shimmered from the alien control panel, casting pale, shifting patterns across the irregular rock walls. The symbols etched into its surface glowed like distant starlight, unfamiliar yet strangely methodical. Koenig’s oxygen alarm chirped again, an intermittent, mechanical reminder of his narrowing window of survival.

He glanced down at the scorched ruin of a comm unit on his sleeve. His eyes flicked back to the alien panel. Could he somehow interface the technologies? The crystalline nodes beneath the surface pulsed softly, almost invitingly. His pulse quickened at the thought. If only he had the tools… or the knowledge.

Adrenaline surged, but the thrill was fleeting, replaced by the harsh reality of his situation. Koenig wasn’t an engineer, just a glorified caretaker of Earth’s radioactive waste before it all went to hell. If Maya were here, she’d have figured it out in minutes. Her Psychon mind could read patterns in chaos, her scientific curiosity as sharp as Bergman’s once was. Thinking of her absence tightened the knot of isolation in his chest.

He shook it off. Nostalgia wouldn’t get him out of this mess. His oxygen alarm gave another sharp beep—a more urgent tone this time. Survival came first. He turned and trudged back toward the rover, his boots crunching over the rocky debris. He had one shot: swap out the oxygen tank and regroup. The mysteries of the alien device could wait. For now, living through the next hour was mission enough.

Koenig slogged through the uneven rubble, every step punctuated by the faint hiss of oxygen bleeding from his suit’s reserves. The rover sat half-buried under the rockfall, its rear section crushed beneath tons of asteroid debris. The emergency oxygen tanks were entombed, either shattered or wedged beyond retrieval.

He clambered into the rover’s cabin, the faint scent of overheated circuits hanging in the stale, recycled air. Settling into the pilot seat, he pressed the comm button again. The indicator was dark, the panel lifeless, but habit—and hope—pushed him to try.

“Moonbase Alpha, this is Commander Koenig.” His voice sounded hollow in his helmet. “Oxygen reserves dwindling. I’ve sustained equipment damage… no way to confirm if this is getting through. I’m positioned near the designated coordinates.” He hesitated, glancing at the cracked readouts. “This may be my last transmission. If you can hear me, and don’t make it in time… no blame. We all knew the risks when the Moon broke free. Command continuity is clear. Stick to the protocols. Survive. And you will make it home.”

His thumb hovered a moment longer before releasing the button. The comm was supposed to automatically convert his words into a binary stream—a cascade of zeroes and ones—designed to punch through the cosmic silence and reach Moonbase Alpha’s distant receivers. But as the seconds dragged on, doubt gnawed at him. The indicator light remained dark, the usual faint hum absent. The image of his words dissolving uselessly into the void did little to ease his mind.

Koenig leaned back, exhaling slowly as the oxygen alarm blared again, more insistent this time. He’d done all he could. Now, it was up to the faint, crackling beam of numbers slicing through billions of miles of darkness.

His oxygen levels dipped into the red, the stale air growing thinner with each shallow breath. The cave’s cold pressed through his suit, biting into his muscles and gnawing at his resolve. His mind drifted, unmoored by the creeping hypoxia. Faces from Moonbase Alpha flickered through the haze: Carter’s cocky grin, Helena’s calm, steady eyes, the chessboard in the rec room with its last match unfinished. So many moves left unplayed. So many words left unsaid.

The edges of his vision darkened, the world shrinking to the dim glow of alien glyphs and the cracked console before him. His head sagged forward.

Then it happened.

The communicator sputtered, crackling like ice breaking on a frozen lake. Static surged through the silence, jagged and sharp, before resolving into something impossible—something real.

"Commander Koenig, do you copy? We’ve pinpointed your signal. Hold on—we’re almost there.”

The voice was clear, crisp, and unmistakably Alpha. The sound of home, stretching across the impossible void.

The wait was torturous, each minute stretching impossibly as his oxygen ticked down. Clinging to the fading warmth of his suit, he awaited salvation.

Rescue arrived in a flurry of lights and motion. The search team, experienced and efficient, navigated the twisting caverns to reach him just as his oxygen supply blinked its final warning. They administered emergency oxygen and secured him in a portable stretcher, retracing their steps to the surface with Koenig in tow. The return to Moonbase Alpha was a blur of relief and medical checks, the familiar hum of the base a comforting backdrop to his recovery.

Cleared by Medical Section after a thorough bio-scan and oxygen re-stabilization, Koenig made his way to the Command Center, his steps steady despite the lingering ache in his muscles. The Alphans had gathered around the central commsphere, their faces reflecting a mix of curiosity and restrained excitement.

“This isn’t just about survival,” Koenig said, his voice carrying the weight of hard-won experience. He tapped a control on the main data console, and an image of the alien panel shimmered into view on the big screen. The symbols glowed faintly—smooth, geometric patterns unlike anything encountered before. “We could be looking at an advanced energy interface. If we can decode it, we might finally find a stable power source that doesn’t leave us dependent on atomic reserves. This technology could change everything—life support, propulsion… even our long-range scanners.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence. Alan Carter crossed his arms and whistled softly. “Alien power grids, huh? Just hope they don’t explode like ours did,” he muttered, flashing a wry grin.

Koenig allowed a faint smile, but it vanished just as quickly. “That’s why we need to be cautious. But we can’t ignore this. I’m proposing a recon mission back to the asteroid. We’ll send down a Survey Eagle with a full tech team. Professor Bergman’s theories about crystal-based energy matrices might give us a starting point.”

He turned toward Maya, her luminous eyes reflecting the tactical display. “Maya, we’re going to need that Psychon brain of yours on this one. I missed having you down there—trust me.”

Her lips curved into a smile, and her voice carried that familiar spark of curiosity. “Commander, you know how much I love an adventure. Next time, don’t leave me behind.”

Koenig chuckled, the tension easing for a moment. “Next time, you’re on the lead team. Space Scout’s honor.”

Maya gave a playful tilt of her head. “I’ll hold you to that, Commander.”

Carter, leaning against the comms console, smirked. “Just make sure you don’t try to talk to any glowing rocks again, Sir.”

Koenig shot him a mock glare. “Just prep Eagle Four for launch, Alan. We’re heading back into the unknown… again.”

The meeting adjourned with the usual mix of skepticism and hope. As the team dispersed, Koenig walked to the viewport. Beyond the transparent plasteel, space stretched endlessly, an ocean of darkness speckled with distant suns.

He thumbed the commlink on his sleeve. The tiny device clicked and hummed to life. “Command Center, this is Koenig,” he said softly.

The reply was immediate. “We read you, Commander. Go ahead.”

He watched a pale nebula swirl like ghostly vapor across the void. “It’s good to be back, Alpha,” he said, voice low but firm. “We’ve survived every anomaly, every black hole, every gravitational distortion that’s been thrown at us. And now… now we’ve found something new. Something that could light the path ahead. There’s still so much out there to discover.”

His gaze fixed on the endless stars. “And one day,” he added, “we’ll find our way home.”

END