A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

It rarely snowed at this latitude on Estel. Or perhaps it was the sea, more salty than on Earth, that kept it away. In the three years since they had arrived, this was only the second or third time Robin had seen snow on the ground. It made her feel a little homesick, remembering childhood Christmasses back on Earth, ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas’ booming from every loudspeaker, fake holly and coloured lights everywhere.

Here the closest thing to holly was a native tree with prickly purplish leaves, and the only lights were the heat lamps they huddled round in their houses, out here on the edge of the ocean.

And the stars. Robin looked up, wondering for the thousandth time if any of the brightly shining points of light was the distant yellow Sun that Earth orbited. She really should ask Jay to look it up, he was the best at finding out that kind of thing. Although it would have to wait. Jay was going to be busy for a while.

She turned to look back down to the village. A little light seeped round the edges of the thick curtains at the windows of the score or so of houses. At one in particular, the light showed brighter for a few moments as a door was opened and closed again. Soon, very soon, Rue and Jay’s baby was going to be born.

The wind grew stronger for a moment, and she had to steady herself against it. She caught the sound, far off, of a strange song, mournful and long. It was the call of the strange seal-like creatures who lived in the waters around the island.

Robin shivered as headed back to the village. At the moment it seemed a cold and bleak world to bring a child into. But she reminded herself that it had been harsher still when she first arrived. Like so many she had come hoping for a better life but instead had found herself trapped into low-paid and dangerous menial work, and harshly punished for challenging the mining corporation that ruled the planet.

Yet somehow that had led to the exploiters being overthrown, and elections that, to Robin’s surprise, overwhelmingly appointed her as leader of the Planetary Council, composed of representatives from each of the new settlements.

The challenge of creating a new society had overwhelmed her at times. She had never studied governance or law, and welding a group of former oppressed workers and some of those who had done the oppressing into a functioning and fair society had been nearly impossible. For a long while she had been forced to live in the hope that in time, something better would emerge from the tangle of good intentions and messy reality.

And it was. She had to keep believing that. The baby that was about to arrive, the first human child to be born on this planet, should be a sign of how much had changed.

Yet as she headed for the village she still gazed up at the stars, wondering restlessly if she had really done the right thing, or if she had sold the rest of the community a wild dream with no foundation in cold reality.

*****

With some reluctance Robin pushed open the door to the building that served as her office. A heat lamp glowed in the centre of the circular structure, and by its light she saw that her fellow councillor Aidan was already seated at the long desk against one wall. She hung up her coat and hat and sat down at the desk, already weary before the meeting had begun.

Aidan looked up from the datapad he was studying. “The medic has arrived and is with Rue. She says everything’s going well.”

“That’s good. I wasn’t sure she’d get here, given the weather.” Robin pushed her chair back to be a little nearer the heat lamp. “You told them I'd be there if they need anything, any help-”

“They know,” Aidan said. He paused. “Ready for the meeting?”

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Robin admitted. Recently there had been whispers on the comm network that linked the settlements together. Only vague hints and veiled threats, but Robin knew that others on the Council were questioning her ability to lead, and would make meetings difficult in an attempt to show themselves as alternative candidates.

What made it worse was that she was not certain that her accusers were wrong.

“You’ve no reason to be worried,” Aidan said reassuringly.

“I hope you’re right.” She pushed the controls on the desk that would connect them to the virtual meeting of the planetary Council.

*****

After the meeting had ended Robin let her head sink onto her arms and sat there for a minute, trying to ignore the headache that had been growing for the last hour and a half. Too many views, too many people determined to make their voices heard at the expense of others. Too many people whose selfishness, in the end, usually came down to fear. Fear of seeming a failure in their own eyes or the eyes of others. Fear, at the bottom, of being alone and helpless in a society where everyone needed to pull together to survive and thrive on their new planet home. And yet their actions, driven by fear, were in danger of bringing about what they feared.

She heard Aidan moving restlessly beside her.

“You all right?” he asked. “That was pretty rough.”

She raised her head. “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked. “Has anything really changed for the better since we took over?”

“The damage done by industrial exploitation has been mitigated as far as possible,” Aidan said. “The rivers are running clean again. We’ve used the wealth of the industrialists who wanted to destroy this planet’s ecosystem to set up clean transport to connect communities and infrastructure that will have minimal impact on the environment. Half a dozen new villages are thriving, and no one’s starved. You should be proud of what’s been accomplished.”

“I am proud of what our people have done,” Robin said. “But there’s still no certainty any of it will last.” She lowered her head again. “Sometimes it’s almost impossible not to just snap at them to stop being stupid. After all we’ve been through, I can’t believe that there are still people who put their own power games ahead of the needs of other people, or the cost to the planet.”

“There always will be,” Aidan said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “You know that before the mining company were overthrown I’d given up hope. But since they’ve been gone there’s hope again. Don’t let go of it.” She looked up to see him pull back the curtain and look out of the window. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”*

Robin got up and came to stand beside him. “That was written about another baby long ago,” she said. “Does it ever feel to you as though it’s too long ago, too far away? To generations born on this planet those stories from Earth will be just that, stories, too remote for their context to have much meaning. The first followers of that baby were fishermen and farmers, housewives and slaves. Their descendents manage machines that do the same tasks vastly more efficiently. Why should stories of angels and shepherds, kings and carpenters mean anything to them?”

He was silent for a moment, then spoke, still looking out the window. “When that baby was born, people came to visit him because they saw a star. Whether it was really a star, or a meteorite, or some other astronomical phenomenon doesn’t matter, what matters is how they reacted to it. They looked at the sky and saw something that caused them to seek out that child. Something that inspired wonder, and gave hope.” He turned to look back at her. “The same stars shine on us as shone on them.”

“We’re part of the same story,” Robin said thoughtfully. “And stories can bring people together.”

“We’ll have to adapt, to make new traditions and find new ways of telling old stories,” Aidan said. “But people will always need an excuse to relax and cheer themselves up at the harshest time of the year. To be reminded of the coming of life and light at a time when all seems dead and dark.”

He nodded in the direction of the nearby building where Rue and Jay’s baby was surely near to being born.

The thought recalled Robin to the present. “I’d better go and see how they’re doing.”

Outside a hush had fallen over the landscape, as though the village- the world- was holding its breath. Snow was falling, softly, almost gently, covering the ground with a thin white crust.

A few hours later, the stillness of the night was broken by the crying of a small voice, and a new chapter was opened in an old story.

*****

A bright fire burned in the hearth of the community hall, warming the crowded space as the villagers gathered to welcome their newest comer. The walls were decorated with wreaths and boughs of evergreen plants- although perhaps everpurple or eversilver would be more appropriate- with here and there a few seasonal berries providing a splash of contrasting colour. The tables were set with bowls of nuts and preserved fruits, pastries savoury and sweet, cakes and bread. A deep jug of wine stood beside a tray of cups.

Robin watched from a shadowy corner as the community members crowded round Rue, seated in a chair close to the fire with the baby in her arms. Jay stood beside her, radiating pride and tiredness and love. A month old now, the child was well and growing fast, already too big for the first tiny clothes. The baby was wrapped now in a shawl that Robin herself had painstakingly knitted for her, from the soft fleece of a sheep-like native animal. Robin remembered her mother showing her the shawl she had knitted before Robin was born. It was a tradition, her mother had said, a memory of times past that still held meaning in the present. Robin had thought a lot about traditions in the last month, and about what Aidan had said. This ceremony was the result.

When the last of the members of the community had gathered and helped themselves to food and drink Robin stepped forward from her corner. Taking a burning stick from the fire she lit a candle made from the resin produced by a tree that grew up in the mountains. It flickered at first in the draught, but when she set it in a holder on the table it settled down and burned with a bright steady flame.

“We light this candle as a symbol of the light of creation,” she said, looking around as the community fell silent. “It reminds us that where once there was darkness, now there is light. That where the world around us is cold and seems dead, life waits for the stirring of the year. Warmth and growth will come again, in the light of the star which gives life to our planet.”

She fought down a stab of nerves at the sight of all the faces watching her, and took a breath to calm herself before she went on. “Today we celebrate the birth of the first human child to be born under this star. All of us grew up on Earth, in the light of another star. A star that many centuries ago saw the birth of another child. A child whose life and death had a profound impact on the history of that world. A child who was at one and the same time a human baby and also the God who made the very planets we live on and the stars that give us light.”

She looked across the room to where Aidan stood watching. “Earth is now very far off, and the events I spoke of may seem impossibly distant- unbelievable, even. Yet the same stars shine on us as shone on those who lived at the time. We have more in common with them than we might think. And more in common with one another. I hope that this child’s coming will be a reminder to us all of what we have to do to build a new and lasting world here on Estel, our chosen home. We have to live together in community, putting each other first. Not to allow ourselves to become closed to the needs of others, not to consider only ourselves and our loved ones. The need of one is the need of all, and the success of one is the success of all. It will be hard. What we build will never be perfect, because we are only human. But it will be better than anything we could build alone.

She paused again for breath. “And so we gather to celebrate the birth of this child, and to welcome her to our community. And I would ask you all to pledge to yourselves that you will do your best to make this community- this planet- a safe and fitting home for her and for all the children who come after. In doing that, we will make sure that light and warmth will come again. Like our ancestors, we share bread- even if it is baked with flour from peagrasses- and wine, even though it is brewed from sandcurrants rather than grapes. We are part of one story.”

Robin turned to Rue, and took the child into her arms. The baby opened her eyes, and for a second Robin was afraid she would start screaming. But the baby merely gurgled and looked up at her.

“May the stars ever shine on you, Asha,” Robin said. “May the God beyond the darkness bless you. No, not just beyond. The God who comes down into the darkness alongside us. That’s why we don’t need to fear the dark. We are never alone.”

*****

An hour later Robin closed the door of Rue and Jay’s home behind her, after helping them take Asha home. She leaned against the outside wall, grateful for a moment of peace from the people and from the cameras that had broadcast her speech across the planet. She felt guilty that some would think she had used Asha’s arrival to make a political point, but Rue and Jay had both said they didn’t see it like that. They knew how important it was for the wider community to be reminded that something more than their own comfort was at stake.

Robin could hear the party was still continuing in the hall. Prompted by her speech, someone had found recordings of old Earth Christmas carols in the data system and with enough of the sandcurrant wine inside them people were singing along.

“O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! O hear the the angel voices

Oh, night divine! Oh, night when Christ was born!”

A thrill of hope. That described exactly how it had felt when she first held Asha. A hope that while there would always be struggles, there was something, a future, to keep on struggling for. That there would be light beyond the darkness.

She looked up. Once again the stars were indeed brightly shining. Robin wondered if one of the stars was the same star as in the nativity story, if it even was a star. Probably not. But that was the magic of the Christmas story.

“Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming,

With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.

So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,

Here come the wise men from the Orient land.

The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger;

In all our trials born to be our friend.

He knows our need, to our weaknesses no stranger,

Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!”

Robin smiled, and headed for the hall to rejoin the party. It wasn’t going to be easy, trying to build a sense of community across a thinly settled planet. But she felt that- at least for now- she had found the strength to carry on.

Aidan had been right. Nowhere was too far away, too long ago to be touched by that story. The stars were ancient- many of those she could see were no doubt the same ones as had looked down on the child of Bethlehem. The stars were all part of creation, Earth’s sun, even this unfamiliar star. It was all part of the one story. The same stars shone on the small seaside village on Estel as shone on Bethlehem so long ago.

“Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother;

And in His name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

Let all within us praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,

His power and glory evermore proclaim.”

(*Gospel of John, chapter 1 verse 5.)

The carol is O Holy Night, P. Cappeau/ Adolphe Adam translated J.S. Dwight. (Source.) You can find out more about it here.

Rhoda’s story

I didn’t believe it. Not at first, when I heard his voice through the doorway. When I’d heard the knock I was frozen with terror, expecting it to be more of Herod’s soldiers come to arrest us all, all the believers in the Way of Christ. Lots of the believers were gathered there, all of us praying for Peter’s release and, to be honest, for our own safety. But it was a struggle to have faith. James, John’s brother, had already been taken and killed by Herod. If God wasn’t going to save him, why would any of us be saved? Even Peter.

And yet here he was, outside the door. I knew his voice. He’d been here dozens of times, talking to my employer, Mary, about the teachings and stories of Christ. I’d listened too. I’d hovered in the doorway, torn between my duties as servant and the desire to join them, until Mary beckoned me in. I wasn’t even from the same background as most of them. My name, Rhoda, is Greek, like my family. The people of this land usually stick together against outsiders. I wasn’t sure they’d want me joining them.

But they welcomed me, servant, outsider, as one of the family. Peter told me that God loved me, like God loved all of them, loved me enough to have died to give me freedom from my mistakes that weighed me down. And I believed him.

*****

That night I’d been with them, praying, when we heard the knock at the outer door. Like I said, I froze. It could have been Herod’s soldiers. But there was a chance it was more of the believers, so I went to the door, and asked who was there.

“It’s Peter,” he said. “Let me in!”

It wouldn’t have mattered what he said. I knew that voice.

I didn’t think. I was so shocked I turned and ran back to tell the others.

They said I was out of my mind. I think they thought the fear had made me lose my grip on reality. But I knew what I’d heard. I kept insisting. Someone suggested it must be Peter’s spirit. I think they’d given up hope, and assumed he was already dead.

Peter kept knocking. I was embarrassed when I realised that I hadn’t even opened the door. Eventually the whole group of believers, led by Mary, followed me back to the door and crowded round as I opened it. I’m sure at least half of them thought it was going to be soldiers sent to kill them.

I opened the door with trembling hands and saw Peter standing there, alone, leaning against the doorway for support. He looked the worse from his stay in prison. He also looked confused.

Everyone was astonished. For a few moments everyone stared at each other in silence. Then someone started asking questions and suddenly everyone was talking at once.

Mary shushed them and beckoned Peter inside. It took a while for him to tell us how an angel had appeared in his cell earlier that night and told him to get up, get dressed, and follow. Peter had obeyed, but had thought it was some kind of dream vision. I hadn’t been the only one confused that night. It wasn’t until they were outside the prison and the angel disappeared that he realised it was real. The guards hadn’t seemed to see them, doors had opened by themselves, and Peter was free.

Peter couldn’t stay. Mary’s house was too well known as a meeting place for the followers of the Way. He told us to make sure the other believers knew what had happened, and then left. I closed the door behind him and went back to the others. We should have been full of joy, but for a while we just looked at each other in shock. Our prayers for Peter’s freedom had been answered, and we hadn’t even noticed it. We’d been too bound up in our own grief and fear to believe that God might actually listen, that the knock at the door might be the answer we were looking for. A few of the believers mumbled apologies for not believing me as they left, but I didn’t really blame them. What had happened was unsettling.

*****

The next morning there was a big commotion all across the city. I heard that Herod had the guards who were guarding Peter killed. I felt sorry for them. I was glad Peter was free, but I still wasn’t sure I understood. Why did our Lord let James be killed, but free Peter? Is it right that Peter’s escape meant the guards were killed, when it wasn’t their fault he’d escaped? If God loves justice, why does it feel like God caused something that would result in injustice? Even though it was human choices that led to it- Herod’s choice to arrest Peter, and to kill the guards- why did God intervene in some situations and not others? I can’t work it out. I suppose I just have to have faith.

And just because Peter escaped this time, will he be safe in future? Will any of us? Herod’s not going to be happy, and I fear that he’ll seek revenge by hunting down every believer he can find. It feels like things could get a lot worse as a result of what happened.

I know I should trust God, but I’m scared. Even a miracle doesn’t stop me having doubts and being afraid. But my mistress, Mary, is calm. I asked if she was worried about Herod coming for us.

“Maybe he will,” she said. “Maybe we will suffer, as James did, and Stephen, and as many others will undoubtedly do. We’ll just have to try not to be so bound up in our fear that we miss what God is doing or saying through us. But Rhoda, even if the worst happens, we won’t be alone. God will be with us.”

She’s right, of course. Before I wasn’t sure of that. Now I am.



Based on Acts 12:1–19: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Acts+12%3A1%E2%80%9319&version=NIVUK

When Darkness Reigns

This story grew out of a) reading and watching more science fiction than is probably healthy over the last year, and b) wondering how our understanding and interpretation of Christianity, and the way we express that, might change as our society and the everyday experiences of most humans become ever more remote from the life of first century middle-eastern farmers and fishermen. So I hope you enjoy this sci-fi story reflecting Easter themes. 


Thursday

Esther entered the mess nervously, feeling awkward and unsure whether she should really be there. She had been told that tonight was the beginning of several days marking a festival. It was also the night of the weekly community meal when all the crew and the families that lived with them aboard the ship were expected to be present. Looking round she saw that everyone else was dressed in their best clothes, laughing and chatting eagerly in groups as they waited for the whole ship’s company to gather. Esther looked down at her own worn, everyday clothes. She didn’t have any others. She felt out of place, and wished she could just go back to the safety of her own cabin.

Yuon, the captain’s eight year old son, came running over to her. “Come on,” he said, dragging her across the room towards the long table where his cousin Castries was already sitting. “Come and sit with us.”

Esther glanced towards where the captain stood, talking to her husband. She nodded to Esther in welcome. At least someone was glad she was there.

But as she followed Yuon towards the foot of the table she caught the eye of Ric Arnold, the senior Able Spacer aboard the Covenant. His gaze was not friendly. As she sat talking to the two children her eyes kept going to the corner of the room where he stood, glowering at her.

The ship’s bell rang out for the end of the watch and the last few remaining crew members came in, the first mate checking the electronic pad that allowed him to keep an eye on the ship’s autopilot and critical systems. Even though they were in clear space far from any planet or asteroid, there was always a chance that something would go wrong.

Captain Ines Ransome now stood at the head of the table and called everyone to attention.

“Friends, tonight we mark the beginning of our Easter festival. It is a time of thanksgiving and remembering how much we have to be grateful for. Most of all, we are grateful to the One who created the universe, who set in motion the stars, the planets, the processes which produce the food we eat, the ship we live on, and which gave breath to our very selves. The One who, because of love, gave up life itself to redeem Creation. Over the next few days we tell the story, the ancient tale from Earth and the early days of humanity, to remind ourselves to be grateful for the blessings we have.”

The captain smiled. “But tonight we share our meal, reminding us that though we may come from different families and different places, we are all one crew. Enjoy!”

Jace, the ship’s purser and cook, brought out the food and the meal began. But as the food was passed round Esther saw Ric Arnold glaring at her. She shrank back.

Arnold had been unhappy with her ever since she came aboard at Muskia Colony. While the captain and younger crew members had been welcoming, and the rest of the crew at worst cautious, every time he spoke to her he made her feel that she was an intruder. His hostile glare introduced a jarring note into the otherwise celebratory evening.

“Esther?” She almost jumped but turned thankfully from Arnold’s glare to see Tasha, the only other crew member who held the same junior rank as her. Although Tasha was an Ordinary Spacer only because you had to be eighteen to qualify for Able rank, and growing up on a ship had given Tasha far more knowledge than Esther thought she would ever have. Like most people in colony worlds, Esther had never been to space before she came aboard the Covenant.

“Mum asked me to make sure you knew that when we share the bread and wine later, you’re welcome to join in. It’s one of the things we do together that makes us who we are. But you don’t have to.”

Tasha’s mum was the captain- or informally the skipper, to most of the crew.

“I’d like to,” Esther said. “I want to be part of the crew. But I don’t know what to do.”

“Just watch me or one of the others. Can you pass that dish?”

***

As the meal drew to a close Esther noticed that the conversation around her was dying away, as if the crew were waiting for something to happen. Eventually, as the plates were cleared away, the skipper got up and walked across to the small worship area that opened out of the mess. Esther followed the others as they too got up from the table and clustered round the rolled back partition separating the worship area from the mess.

Normally there were decorations on the walls of the worship area, and a cloth on the table to hide the worn, utilitarian bulkheads and furniture. But now it had been stripped bare. The only things remaining were a cup of water, a plate with a piece of bread, and a candle burning in its fireproof lantern.

It had surprised Esther to find an actual, old fashioned candle was used, given that even she knew fire needed oxygen to burn and oxygen was something which was precious in space, far from any world. That had been before someone explained the oxygen generators deep inside the ship’s hull, constantly removing waste products from the air and converting them back into oxygen. They could spare enough for one candle to burn at times of ceremony.

The skipper sanitised her hands, then picked up the piece of bread.

“We give thanks for food to eat and water to drink, symbols of life we carry with us into the lifeless void of space. We give thanks for the skills and technology that keeps us alive and safe in an environment where such things cannot be taken for granted. We give thanks for everything that brings us joy and makes life worth living. We give thanks that in the midst of lifelessness, we bring life; that into the darkness of space, we bring light.”

The skipper broke the bread into many small pieces. She ate one, then passed the plate round. Esther took a piece and ate along with everyone else.

The skipper had brought a bottle of wine with her from the table. Carefully, she poured a few drops into the cup, then swirled the cup to mix the wine with the water that was already there.

“We give thanks for one another. We know that sometimes we don’t act in the right way towards others, and we ask for forgiveness for those times we have hurt others, knowingly or unknowingly.” The captain paused, and Esther saw others around her looking down, obviously remembering times they had done just that.

“We ask for help in times of fear and trouble, strength to bear suffering and grief, and grace to put the needs of others before our own. We remember the love that binds us together and recommit ourselves to the task of treating each other rightly.”

Each person had brought their cup with them from the table, and the skipper went round pouring a few drops from the mixing cup into theirs. Then, at the skipper’s signal, they drank together.

Esther joined in, despite feeling uncomfortable. She had never participated in this kind of ritual before. But she could see how the words made sense. Out here, far from any rock that could sustain life, it was easy to see why food and water should not be taken for granted. And she had already seen how the crew had to work together and trust each other because if there was a problem, there was no one else who could help.

The skipper had turned once again to the table in the worship area. This time she picked up the candle and opened the lantern. Jace darkened the lights in the mess until the tiny flickering flame was clear in the darkness.

The skipper held up the lantern and spoke into the darkness.

“God that is greater than the darkness, Light-bringer in the darkness of our lives, Creator and redeemer of creation. Help us to remember you are with us even in the darkness. And may the stars you created shine on us, and on our journeys.”

Esther heard the rest of the crew reply. “May the stars shine on us.”

The skipper softly blew out the candle.

It wasn’t completely dark. But to Esther it felt as though the darkness pressed in around them, a veil cutting each person off from one another. She felt somehow unsettled. It was as though something living had died.

It wasn’t how she had expected the evening to end. Usually after community meals everyone sat around talking and telling stories. Tonight the mood was not of celebration, but of tension, a sort of waiting. Everyone was quiet as they left the mess. She headed back to her sleeping quarters in thoughtful silence.

***

But before Esther could reach her quarters she heard quick steps behind her and turned to see Ric Arnold, the hostile look still on his face. She shrank back against the bulkhead so he could pass but he stopped and barred her way.

“You fancy yourself one of us?” he snarled. “You’ve got no right to join in with our rituals, you haven’t earned it.”

“I want to earn it,” Esther said, trying not to look afraid.

“You do, do you? Are you up to it? I doubt it.” He smiled, a dangerous smile. “But we’ll see. Meet me by the airlock tomorrow morning once the forenoon watch has gone on duty.”

Esther looked at him dubiously. She didn’t fully trust him, but she did want to be accepted.

“All right.”

He moved off, still smiling. Esther wondered what she had agreed to, and wondered if the God the others had prayed to would protect her if she asked. She hoped she wouldn’t need to find out.


Friday

The next morning Esther was ready at the airlock hatch. Ric Arnold was waiting for her with Mikhail, another able spacer.

“Suit up,” Arnold said to her. “You done a spacewalk before? No, of course you haven’t. I did my first spacewalk when I was ten. For a bet.”

“First Mate Sundara talked me through using a suit when I joined the crew,” Esther said, nervously getting into the cumbersome suit. She assumed the others would help, but they just stood and watched. She didn’t like the grin Arnold wore, and not for the first time wondered if she should have refused.

“One of the solar sails on the alpha foremast has jammed and isn’t fully open,” Arnold said, as she struggled with the layers and fastenings. “Happens all the time, it’s a simple fix. Just needs a good tug. You go out, up the mast, fix the sail, down the mast and back to the airlock.” He grinned again. “Sounds simple, doesn’t it? There’s a catch, though. You’re going alone.”

Esther stared at him. “Alone? But I’ve never been out there before.”

“Some people can’t hack it,” Mikhail said. “Being out there alone, nothing but a few layers of fabric and plastic between you and the stars.”

“Do you think you can face it?” Arnold said. “Or do you want to wimp out?”

Esther looked up at him, trying to push away her misgivings. “I’ll do it.”

Mikhail did at least make sure that her helmet was on properly and the life support unit fixed in place before she stepped through the hatch.

“Your last chance to back out,” Arnold said. She looked back, half tempted. But if she did he would tell everyone. No one would let her forget it. Cautiously she stepped into the airlock.

The inner hatch closed behind her. She stood, listening to her breathing sounding loud in the silence and her heart beating under the layers of her suit. She hoped she'd remembered everything Sundara had shown her. She’d never expected to be going out alone this soon. What was she supposed to do if the suit malfunctioned? What if something went wrong?

The light beside the outer hatch changed to green. She remembered to clip on one of the safety lines attached to her suit before she pressed the button to open it. It took all her courage to step out of the hatch.

Mikhail had been right. There was nothing between her and the stars.

Wonder and terror vied with each other in her mind. Frozen to the spot, she heard Ric Arnold’s voice coming across the comm system inside her helmet. She guessed he was watching her suit’s camera feed.

“Are you gonna do this or stand there staring all morning?”

She took a deep breath, and reached down to clip on another safety line.

After the first step it was a little easier. It took her longer than she was proud of to find the right mast and, her limbs made clumsy by the spacesuit, to climb along it to where the sail was stuck. Climb wasn’t really the right word, it was more about pulling herself along while trying to avoid floating off into the void. Her safety lines got caught more than once, costing her time while she backtracked to free them. Arnold taunted her over the commlink that a real spacer didn’t need safety lines, but she ignored him. Desperate as she was to be accepted, that was a risk too far. It was a relief when the sail came free and she could turn and make her way back to the airlock. She turned for a last look at the stars. It was awe inspiring, as well as terrifying, being out here. Maybe with enough experience she would get used to it, but for now she was glad to be going back inside.

The airlock outer hatch wouldn’t open.

She pressed the button again, forcing herself to stay calm. Nothing. The light stayed red.

She spoke into the comm. “Ric?”

No reply.

“Ric? Mikhail? The airlock hatch won’t open. What do I do?”

Silence.

“Ric? Please, I don’t know what to do. Is anyone there?”

Nothing.

Her breathing sounded loud in the silence. Don’t panic, she told herself. She pressed the hatch button again. Still nothing. She noticed there was a handle on the hatch, maybe a manual override? She reached for it and tried to turn it.

Still nothing.

She panicked and started pulling frantically at the handle, begging it to open. She slipped, lost her footing and began to float away from the ship.

For a moment utter terror overwhelmed her. She’d heard the others tell scare stories of spacers lost overboard, floating alone through the endless black while their life support slowly ran out, with no hope of rescue. Frozen corpses drifting endlessly through space until the end of the universe, or until they were drawn too close to a star and burnt up.

Then she remembered the safety lines.

With shaking hands she reached down for the safety line and pulled herself back to the ship. She clung onto a rail, breathing heavily. Tears ran from her eyes, and she instinctively put up her hand to wipe them away, but her glove only met her visor. She was used to feeling lonely, but she had never felt more isolated than she did at that moment.

Then her commlink crackled into life. “Esther? What’s happened? Why are you still outside?”

It was the captain.

“I can’t get the outer airlock hatch open,” she sobbed with relief and shame. “I came out to fix the sail but I couldn’t get back in, and the comms went dead and...and I thought I...” Her voice trailed off.

“All right, hold on.” The captain paused. “You’re right. The hatch is showing as jammed. How on earth did that happen- and why didn’t it show up until now?”

“I’m sorry,” Esther sobbed, wondering how she had managed to break something so vital.

“Who’s supervising you? Why didn’t they report this?”

“Ric Arnold was talking me through it, but when the hatch wouldn’t open the comms went silent. I thought they were broken too.”
“Talking you through it? Isn’t he out there with you?”

“No.”

“You went out alone?”

“Yes.”

She heard the captain muttering as if to herself. “A damn hazing ritual. On a grounder. I’ll have his hide for this.”

“Please,” Esther said, trying to control herself. “I don’t know what to do. Please help me, I...I’m scared.”

The captain replied, a note of gentleness in her voice. “It’s all right. There’s no need to fear. Make sure you’re clipped in. Your suit’s systems can keep you going for at least six hours. We’ll have the airlock working long before that. And we’ll keep this commlink open and keep checking on you. Stay calm, and you’ll be fine.”

***

Five hours later, Esther had heard those words enough times that they had long ceased to be reassuring. The gauge on her life-support systems had moved from green to amber almost an hour ago, and she was no nearer being able to go back inside. Whatever was wrong with the airlock hatch was thoroughly broken, despite the frequent reassurance over the commlink that they would have it fixed soon. Esther dully wished they would stop giving her false hope, only to dash it every time.

Clipped in with every safety line she had, she tried to stretch her cramped limbs and told herself yet again that she was just imagining it being already hard to breathe. She couldn’t persuade herself that the headache wasn’t real though, or the thirst.

She gazed out past the masts towards the stars. Out here they seemed like tiny pinpricks in the great curtain of space, letting through light from outside the universe. She wondered, if she let go, if she would float right through one of the pinpricks into the some great bright space beyond the darkness.

She shook her head to rouse herself, wondering how she could feel drowsy when her life was hanging by a thread. Her fingers and toes were starting to tingle.

An alarm sounded, and she looked down at the oxygen gauge. The feeling of dull heaviness grew.

“The gauge has gone into the red.” She was surprised at her ability to keep her voice steady as she spoke to the crewmember who was on the other end of the commlink.

“We’re nearly there. Don’t worry, we’ll be with you soon.”

But Esther could hear the worry underneath the positive words. A cold feeling crept over her as she looked back up at the stars.

A few minutes later she heard the skipper take over the comm, her voice calm but sombre. “Esther, we should have the airlock problem fixed. But it's only cycling slowly, so it will still be a while yet before we can reach you and get you inside, and it’s likely things will get uncomfortable for you. The best thing you can do now is try not to panic. I know that will be hard. I’ve been through a suit failure before. Just do the best you can.” There was a moment’s pause before the skipper spoke again. “I think you will already have realised this, but we may not make it in time. I’m sorry.”

After the obviously false positivity and reassurance, it was almost a relief to hear the truth. “Thank you for trying,” Esther said. “I’m sorry to be a nuisance.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” the skipper said grimly. “We’ll do our best for you. Don’t give up hope.”

Esther closed her eyes for a moment, but the stars still seemed to hang before her. Her breath was loud in her ears, and now she knew she was no longer imagining it being harder to breathe. The words spoken the night before seemed to come back to her with renewed force.

God that is greater than the darkness, the others believe they can talk to you, so I hope you don’t mind if I do too. I know what’s going to happen, and I’m scared. I’ll face it as best I can, but...if you can help, give me courage to face it...I’d be really grateful. And if there’s really somewhere out there, light beyond the dark...I hope I’m not too late to ask to join you there.

She blinked, opening her eyes again. Dimly over the commlink she heard six bells in the afternoon watch being rung. 3pm, in Earth time. She had been out here six hours.

The oxygen gauge was flickering on empty now. Her thoughts didn’t feel very clear. Through her fogged viewplate the stars were just visible, points of light twinkling as if to beckon her towards them. Her eyes closed, but the lights were still there, in her mind. She floated among them, free, unburdened.

“Esther?”

She jerked back to wakefulness to see a figure in a spacesuit approaching. The voice was familiar, but felt as though it was coming from a long way away. Stories she had heard a long time ago muddled with the evidence of her eyes and ears. Maybe this was what happened when you died in space, alone. Someone came, someone others couldn’t see, to guide you through the dark beyond the stars to whatever came next.

“Esther, can you hear me?”

Was that the skipper? Esther gasped but couldn't get any words out.

“She's in a bad way. Bring the spare tank and get it hooked up quickly.”

She was dimly aware of another figure looming towards her, and then of someone fiddling with the oxygen unit at her back. She heard Able Spacer Mikhail’s voice over the comm link.

“Oh merciful stars. It's empty.”

“What?”

“The spare. It's empty. And hers is completely gone. We'd better get a move on back to the airlock.”

There was a second’s pause before the skipper spoke.

“Swap her tank with mine.”

“But skipper-”

“There isn't time to get her inside. Swap the tanks. That's an order.”

Another second’s pause. Esther, half conscious, heard only her laboured breath. She had heard the skipper’s words but her mind could not take them in. It was as though they were discussing someone else. It didn’t matter compared to how bright the stars were.

“Aye aye skipper.” Esther felt Mikhail disconnect her tank.

“The order’s been recorded,” the skipper’s voice said. “You won’t be held responsible. I’m in better shape than she is, and there’s enough air in the suit to last me back to the airlock. Just get her back quickly.”

Something clicked into place behind her. Mikhail’s voice spoke to her. “Breathe as steady as you can. It’ll take a while to get through. I’ll help you back to the airlock.”

Afterwards Esther couldn’t remember getting to the airlock. All she could remember was her own clumsy movements and the concern in Mikhail’s voice as he helped her across the outside of the ship. Then, once they were finally inside, came the long, long wait as the airlock was pressurised. The minutes ticked by in silence. The oxygen was getting through and she was starting to feel more alive, although still woozy and disorientated. But she could hear over the commlink as the skipper’s breathing became more laboured.

As clarity returned to her mind it brought with it understanding of what the skipper had done. She turned to look at her in horror.

“I’m sorry,” Esther said. “I-”

The skipper held out a gloved hand towards her. “May the stars shine on you,” she gasped. Then her eyes closed and she slumped over.

Behind them, gears squealed as the inner hatch began to open. Esther thought it was the most welcome sound she would ever hear.


Saturday

The Covenant’s medbay was tiny, with only one bed. By the time the skipper was gently placed in the bed and the diagnostic and monitoring systems began stabilising her, Esther could see that she was unconscious.

The ship’s medical specialist hurriedly gave Esther an oxygen mask and left her to sit in a corner while he checked the readings the systems gave for the captain.

Jace, the captain’s husband who was also the purser, hurried in with a terrified look on his face. “How is she, Tam?” he asked.

The medical specialist looked up, shaking his head. “She’s in a coma. Blood pressure’s low, breathing barely there. I’ve got her hooked up to the life support systems now so she should stabilise, but it’ll be a while before she wakes up.” He looked up at Jace. “If she wakes up. I can’t tell how much damage there is, but she’d gone pretty deep.”

Esther felt crushed by guilt as she watched Jace stand beside his wife’s bed, holding her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I love Ines because she's the kind of person who does the right thing, who cares about her crew and would willingly die to save them. But it’s hard to see her like this.”

He looked back at Tam. “You’ll tell me when there’s any change.”

Tam nodded.

“Then my kids need me.” He left the room, but not without a backwards glance at his wife.

Tam checked the readings on the skipper again then came over to Esther. “You seem to have been lucky,” he said, after checking her over. “No major damage as far as I can tell. They got to you just in time.”

Esther looked over at the skipper, lying silent and still. “I’m not worth the risk she took.”

“She chose to do what she did, and it would take a braver man than me to tell the skipper she was wrong.” He stood up. “You should stay in the medbay overnight to get your levels stable and so I can keep an eye on you. I’ll get something brought in for you to lie down on.”

Esther, still feeling unsteady and with a hideous headache, didn’t protest.

***

It was a long night. Esther drifted in and out of dreams of silence and darkness, the light of the stars fading into the monitoring lights of the medical equipment. She felt somehow empty, as though her ordeal was not yet over. And indeed that long night’s vigil seemed a continuation of the hours she had spent outside, alone. There were moments when she wished it had already been too late when the skipper had found her, when she wished she had not had to live with the burden of knowing someone else had risked their life for her. With tears she silently begged the God beyond the darkness to spare the captain’s life.

Why had she gone outside? She had guessed- no, she had known- that something wasn’t right about what Ric Arnold was telling her to do. She should have checked with someone, should have ignored his taunting. She had let her desire to belong overcome her caution, and the skipper was paying the price.

She remembered the story that had been told at the feast about the man called Peter, the most fervent of the disciples to declare his faith. And he had done what few others dared to do and followed the crowd as they took his Lord away. And yet, when questioned, he had denied his faith. She thought she knew how he felt. A failure, whose attempts to prove herself had only made the situation worse. How could she stay on the ship after this, with everyone looking at her and thinking of what she had done? She felt even more alone than she had done during those hours waiting outside.

***

The next morning Esther walked unsteadily to the office where Sundara, the first mate who was now in charge of the ship, was waiting to ask her about what had happened the day before. The skipper still lay poised between life and death. Esther wished she could fast forward her life until the captain’s fate was known.

To her surprise Mikhail was already in the office, looking downcast and depressed.

“I’ve already spoken to Ric Arnold,” Sundara said. “He admits that he signed out two suits despite intending to send Esther out alone, but says he had nothing to do with the airlock hatch breaking. He claims he didn’t realise it was your first spacewalk, Esther, and that he thought you were cleared to go solo.”

Esther must have shown her surprise, but she hesitated. If she got Arnold into trouble he could make her life hell.

Mikhail obviously had no such qualms. “That’s a load of rubbish,” he said bluntly. “Arnold knew she’d never been outside before. That was the whole point. It was a prank, a stupid prank, to send her out alone. Then he- we- were going to override the hatch control and not let her back in, just for a few minutes, to see what she would do. We’d pretend not to hear her calling for help, then after a couple of minutes we’d reset the hatch controls and let her in. That’s what he told me, anyway. Once I realised she was stuck out there I started trying to fix the controls, but it was beyond me. By that time the skipper had found out what had happened and came down to find out what was going on. Arnold legged it before she got there.”

“Do you think he deliberately sabotaged the hatch controls?” Sundara said.

Mikhail shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if the controls broke or if he’d done something to them and not told me about it, but the hatch control didn’t reset.”

“It’s an old trick, sending a new spacer out alone then pretending to lock them out,” Sundara said. “But not when they’ve never had training. Not on their first spacewalk. Mikhail, even if the hatch failure was nothing to do with you, this doesn’t reflect well on you.”
“I know.” Mikhail looked at Esther. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I am.” She looked at him, and saw a haunted look in his eyes. She remembered the reassurance the skipper had given him when she ordered him to swap the oxygen tanks, and saw that he had not absolved himself so easily.

“You came to help me,” Esther said after a moment. “I guess we’re ok.”

She saw some of the tension drain out of him. “Thanks.”

Why had she said that? Even if it had been unintentional, his actions could have contributed to her death. But having been so close to death and saved at the last moment, she felt she was in no position to judge anyone.

“Does his story fit with yours?” Sundara asked Esther. She nodded, and filled in the details of Arnold’s challenge to her. She confessed that she had realised there was something wrong when he told her she was going out alone, but that she had been afraid of not seeming up to the task.

“It’s my fault as much as anyone’s,” she admitted.

“You should have been more cautious,” Sundara agreed. “Trying to do a task you know you’re not trained for might sound like a way to prove yourself, but it’s an equally good way to put the ship and yourself in danger, meaning others have to put themselves in danger to help you. You could have got into trouble even if the airlock worked fine. We don’t encourage these sort of tests of daring-do. Next time someone gives you an order you’re not sure is right, find someone to ask before you put yourself in danger.”

Esther looked down. “Aye aye.”

“However,” Sundara’s voice was gentler than Esther had ever heard it. “In the circumstances, you did well. Once you’re recovered I’ll take you through the full spacewalk training. Better to face going back out sooner rather than later.”

“Thank you,” Esther said, surprised.

“We can’t be having a crew member who can’t do part of their job,” Sundara said briskly. “Now off you go and get some rest.”

***

It was evening again. Esther wished she could take her watch shift as usual, but Tam had advised another day free of duty. So she roamed restlessly through the passageways, hoping to wear herself out so she could sleep.

She paused as she passed the medbay. Tasha was sitting beside her mother, who still lay silently.

Tasha looked up as Esther stood at the door. Esther saw that her face was stained with tears.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I’m all right,” Esther said. “I...I’m sorry about...” She looked towards the bed.

“Tam doesn’t think she’ll wake up,” Tasha said quietly. “If anything, she’s getting worse.”

Esther looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“We all grow up knowing something like this could happen,” she said softly. “But I never really understood how it would feel. I know she wouldn’t want me to be scared, but I can’t help it.”

“She gave me her life support to save me. I didn't fully understand what she was doing and I doubt I'd have had the courage to refuse if I did. But I'd never have asked anyone to do that.”

Tasha wiped the tears aside. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have gone out alone,” Esther said.

“You didn’t break the hatch.”

“I still feel responsible.” Esther came in and stood beside her, looking down at the skipper. “Ric Arnold’s right about me. I’m not like the rest of you. I couldn’t imagine doing what she did.”

Tasha turned and looked at Esther. “I hope I’d do the same as mum, if I ever had to. But it’s not because I’ve lived on ships all my life. It’s because of what I try to be like, what she tried to teach me.” She looked back at the bed. “Mum wasn’t afraid of dying. She had faith that there is something beyond the dark. I thought I believed it too, but it’s hard right now.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Esther said.

Tasha looked up. “Stay with me,” she said. “Dad’s got to look after Yuon, but I didn’t want mum to be alone.”

Esther looked at the bed once more. It seemed like the least she could do, after what the skipper had done for her.

“I’ll stay with you,” she said.


Sunday

Esther opened her eyes. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep in a chair in the medbay. Beside her, Tasha stirred. It had been a long night and the two of them had kept vigil, sometimes talking quietly, mostly sitting silently, but each feeling better because the other was there.

Esther heard Tasha gasp.

“What is it?” She followed Tasha’s gaze, fearing what she would see.

The bed where the skipper had lain was empty.

Esther turned to Tasha, seeing the horror in her friend’s face, and knowing what it was she feared.

“Where have they taken her?” Tasha said brokenly. “I...I want to say goodbye.”

“I’ll go and find someone,” Esther said, standing up.

But Tasha clung to her suddenly. “Don’t leave me alone.”

Looking down Esther thought Tasha looked so young. She knew so much more about space life than Esther that it was a struggle sometimes to remember she was not yet seventeen.

Esther put an arm round her. “Come with me, then, and we’ll find Tam or your father and ask what’s happened.”

Tasha nodded slowly, and stood up. As they turned towards the door it opened, and both girls stopped, open mouthed, to stare at the figure which stood there.

“Mother?” Tasha gasped.

Esther was not sure whether to be overjoyed or afraid. Was this a dream? Or had everything she remembered about the last day and a half been a hallucination, and she was really still suffocating outside the ship, waiting for rescue that would come too late?

“It’s all right, Tasha,” skipper Ines said, reaching for her daughter and enfolding her in her arms. Esther stood back, overwhelmed with shame and confusion and joy.

“I woke a little while ago,” Ines said, “And saw that you were there, asleep. You looked worn out, and I didn’t want to disturb you so I got up and went to find your father. But he was asleep too, with Yuon beside him. So I came back here.”

“Mother, we thought you wouldn’t be coming back.” Tasha buried her head in her mother’s arms and wept.

“It’s all right,” Ines said softly. “But let me sit down, Tasha. I still feel a little unsteady.”
Esther moved out of the way to let them sit down. But Ines looked at her and smiled. “I’m glad to see we reached you in time to avoid serious harm.”

Esther found her tongue. “Captain- I- I owe you my life- I’m sorry.”

“Give thanks to the God of life, not to me,” Ines said. “Will you go and tell the others?”

***

Tam didn’t believe her. “Come back to medbay with me,” he said, a worried look on his face. “Maybe the scans missed some damage that’s causing an hallucination.”

“It’s not a hallucination,” Esther said, but she faltered and lost confidence in herself. “Come and see.”

He was stunned into silence as they entered the medbay to find Ines with her arms around Tasha and Yuon, being kissed by her husband.

Esther stood back by the door, only half listening to Tam’s exclamations as he spread the news around the ship via the comm channels. The crew converged on the medbay, chattering excitedly. Sundara had to chase them all away so Tam could check the skipper over and confirm that she had miraculously escaped without permanent injury.

***

A few hours later the ship’s company gathered in the mess. The small worship area at the far end had been decorated with strands of artificial greenery, the ship’s one real plant in pride of place on the table beside the bread, the cup and the candle. Symbols of light and life, of creation and provision.

As the skipper lit the candle within its lantern, Esther found herself thinking yet again of the stars she had seen two days before. A tiny pinprick of light it seemed, on its own hardly making a difference to the darkness, but it was a promise of light and warmth, and of hope. She felt tears in her eyes and couldn’t work out if they were for grief or joy, or just relief.

And at the far side of the mess, almost at the back, she saw Ric Arnold, his face the only one there not showing emotion. Esther saw him looking at her and a cloud seemed to darken the scene. She had gone outside because she wanted to be accepted, but she feared she had only made things worse. Everyone must know what she had done, and even though the skipper was all right surely they would still blame her. And Arnold would resent her for whatever trouble he was in. This wasn’t over.

But for now the rest of the crew were celebrating not just the festival of Easter, but the recovery of their own leader. After thanks had been given, and the bread and cup shared among the crew, the skipper stood up, supported by Jace.

“Thank you for your good wishes. I know I have been fortunate and give thanks to the God of life, whose resurrection and our own redemption we celebrate today. If the last few days have been ones of bitterness and anxiety, then let that experience remind us what price our God paid at the first Easter, and reflect on how grateful we should be, and how we should treat one another as a result.”

The skipper sat down, facing the crew. “I hate to do this in public,” she said. “But the truth must be known. Ric Arnold, will you step forward please?”

Esther saw Arnold flinch as every head in the room turned towards him. For a moment she thought he was going to run, then, as first mate Sundara stepped forward to prevent escape he reluctantly stood up and went forward to stand before the skipper.

“Is there anything you want to say?” the skipper said.

Arnold stared back. “No.”

“The testimony of witnesses states that you sent Esther outside alone as a prank, although you knew she was not trained to do such a mission. Further evidence suggests that you sabotaged the airlock hatch so that it would not open. Our engineer states that there is no way such a fault could have occurred without tampering, and tools to do the job were found hidden in your quarters.” The skipper looked up at him. “Do you have anything to say?”

Arnold was silent.

“Whether you intended to kill Esther or just to frighten her I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. My eight year old child has enough sense to know the danger of a stunt like that. You threatened the safety of one of my crew. You threatened the safety of my ship. That means you threatened every person aboard. And now you haven’t even got the guts to admit responsibility for it. I could shoot you out the airlock and I doubt anyone would argue it wasn’t justice.”

Arnold still said nothing, but Esther saw a flicker of fear on his face.

“But I won’t do that,” the skipper said. “I won’t repay evil with evil. You’re relieved of duty. Your share will be docked to cover the cost of repairs and you’ll be getting off at the next port we come near. And if I hear a word out of place before then you’ll be confined to quarters until we reach it. Do I make myself clear?”

Arnold finally found his voice.

“She’s a dirty grounder and has no place aboard a ship. I’m not the only one who thinks that, but I’m the only one who was willing to do anything about it! You’re even letting her join in our ceremonies when she doesn’t know the first thing about what they mean.”

The skipper stared him into silence. “How is she to learn them except by sharing in them?” she said. She turned to look for Esther. “Esther, would you come up here, please?”

Uncomfortably aware of every eye on her, Esther stood up and made her way to the front.

“When you were outside- what did you see? What did you think of?”

It wasn’t the question Esther had been expecting, and she was taken aback for a moment.

“I...I thought about how beautiful the stars were. I wondered how long it would take to reach the furthest stars, and whether there is any life there. Whether any of the points of light I could see were other ships, or space stations, or colonies.” She shifted and looked up. “And I thought about whether those stars would be the last thing I saw as my life support failed, and wondered what it would feel like, and if I could keep myself from panicking when the oxygen started to run out. Whether I’d float out there forever. Whether there was anything...beyond the dark.”

The skipper nodded. “It’s quite something, the first time you’re out there alone. It tends to make you think of the big questions, regardless of whether you’re trapped out there or not. But you kept your head.”

Esther looked up at her shamefaced. “I didn’t at first. You know that. And I was afraid.”

“Of course. But you looked up, and out. Not just down at the hull beneath your feet and the safety rail in front of you. You might not have been born a spacer, but you think like one.”

Esther looked down. “I don’t feel like one of you. I want to, but I can understand why I’m not accepted.”

“That’s why you went outside, isn’t it?” The captain’s voice was gentle. “I hope I showed you that I, at least, consider you one my crew- I did the same for you as I would for any of them. You don’t have to pass silly hazing challenges to earn that.” She shot a glance at Arnold. “If some fools choose not to welcome you, that’s their loss. If any still doubt you, let them know that you faced fear and death with courage, that you took responsibility for your mistakes and apologised, and that you shared vigil last night with my daughter, giving what comfort you could when the night seemed darkest.”

Again the skipper looked at Arnold. “What is the point of faith if it doesn’t lead us to behave in the right way? God is not just beyond the darkness. God is in it, with us. That’s why we don’t fear the dark.

“Esther, I believe God was with you as you waited outside the ship, God was with you last night as you waited in medbay, and God is here now, enfolding us all in love. Even you, Ric Arnold. If God is willing to share that love, why aren’t you?”

***

Later, Esther climbed up to the observation deck and looked out of the shaded windows at the stars. It wasn’t the same as being out there with them, but it was as close as she could get from inside the ship.

Her fears that the crew would blame her for the danger to the captain had so far been unfounded. In fact since the skipper's speech she had felt more welcomed and included than at any time since she came on board. Mikhail in particular had been loud in telling others that she had faced her ordeal as a spacer should hope to. Esther had tried to protest that she had been terrified and close to panic, but then others had shared their stories of their first spacewalks. Tam confessed to being too scared to let go of the rail the first time he ventured outside, even to move along the hull. Others agreed that even when you were with someone, it took some time before you could get past the terror that something would go wrong.

Esther felt reassured. Maybe in time she could become like the rest of the crew, rather than constantly feeling under pressure to justify her presence.

Looking out at the tiny points of light in the great black curtain of space, she wondered about what the skipper had said. Had God been with her? Was it true, or just a comforting story made up to help people get through life when it was tough? Remembering what it had been like out there, Esther was reluctant to dismiss it. It was worth thinking about. But for now, she was just glad to be safe.