A Stitch In Space

by Christopher Lansdown

  “That’s too far and uncertain to be useful,” Katie said, “But you’ve made a good point. If what we need are inertial reference points, we can create them. All we have to do is throw a piece of cargo overboard and it will drift in the exact direction we had been heading. When I say throw, I mean launch precisely, of course. But that should work to give us a reference point for accurate turning.”

  “What about the turning that got us here in the first place?” Belle asked.

  “I can go through the sensor logs and see whether there’s anything that can help us to calibrate the turn, but the best that I can come up with, I suspect, is error bounds.”

  “Shouldn’t we still be in the same plane as the slipstream,” Fr. Xris said, “and so all we have to do is turn more than ninety degrees and less than 180 and we’re guaranteed to run into it?”

  “That would be true if the maneuvering thruster fired perfectly symmetrically with regard to our mass. Which they are suppose to do. But the pirate ship attached to us would have screwed up where our center of mass is, and the thrusters aren’t designed to compensate for the ship being off balance. We actually have to load the cargo symmetrically.

  “And that brings up a related problem. Since we have nothing to calculate distance off of, we have to rely on our accelerometer for the exact distance we traveled from the slipstream. Thrust duration plus mass only works if you accurately know the mass, and we were dragging a pirate ship of unknown mass around for part of our trip out.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt, but am I correct in guessing that slipstreams are very hard to detect if you’re not in them?” Fr. Xris asked.

  “Yes,” Belle said. “They’re just warped space. They’re not really made of anything, so there’s nothing there to detect. They don’t even have a lensing effect for the light behind them. The only way to detect them is the way that they were discovered in the first place: interstellar gases are more dense inside of them than outside of them.”

  “But that’s still hard to detect,” Katie said. “If space dust averages about one hydrogen molecule per cubic centimeter, it’s a bit over 10,000 molecules per cubic centimeter in the slipstream, but that’s still practically nothing in absolute terms. We have sensors that can tell the difference, but not at more than a kilometer or two.”

  “I thought that they were rated for three kilometers,” Jack said.

  “That’s in a laboratory,” Katie said. “In real-world conditions, you can cut that in half.”

  “It’s much more reliable to tell if you’re in a slipstream,” she continued, “because the entire universe turns much brighter. But that has a range of, roughly, zero.”

  “It’s a pity we didn’t throw anything overboard before we turned out of the slipstream,” Fr. Xris said.

  “It is,” Belle replied, “but if I had waited any longer, the pirates might have gotten more of their terminators on board, and we might all be dead now.”

  “I didn’t mean that as a criticism,” Fr. Xris said. “I was more wondering whether it might be possible to look for our thrust, since that might still be hotter than deep space.”

  “That’s a thought,” Belle said.

  “We can certainly try,” Katie said, “but we don’t have any powerful infrared telescopes on board that I’m aware of. Maybe once we get closer. Right now, I think I need to run these calculations so we can start turning.”

  “How long do you think it will take?” Belle asked.

  Katie considered for a moment.

  “Ninety minutes,” she said.

  “At our current approximate speed, that means we’ll be... fifty five thousand kilometers away by the time we start reversing our thrust,” Belle said.

  “I’ll do what I can, Captain. In the meantime, can you get the ejected reference point ready?”

  “Certainly,” Belle said. “Jack, get it ready.”

  “But I’m not an engineer,” he said.

  Belle thought for a second then said, “Priest: since you’re an acting member of the crew now, help him.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Fr. Xris said.

  * * *

  Jack and Fr. Xris went to work. They decided to use one of the pirates’ attack robots as the cargo to chuck overboard. It was free, and there was a certain amount of poetic justice in it. They devised what amounted to a low-speed railgun long enough to give them the extremely straight trajectory they would need. They got the parts, put on space suits (with magnetic feet) and space walked out to a suitable spot on the outside of the ship to get a clear shot.

  They had it set up and tested, but not reloaded, when the 90 minutes had elapsed. Katie hadn’t shown up to check their work yet, though, so they took the opportunity to reload.

  Jack called the captain and said, “Captain, we’ve got the railgun ready. Where’s Katie? She’s going to come inspect it, isn’t she?”

  “Get back inside the ship,” Belle replied. “We’re not going to be needing a reference point right now.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll explain when you get to the bridge,” Belle said. “It’s not catastrophic—we just need to figure out how to get more accuracy than Katie could get so far.”

  “But Captain, every minute we’re not firing we’re drifting further away.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? Get in here.”

  Belle hung up.

  Since there was nothing but interstellar vacuum between them, Fr. Xris didn’t hear any of the conversation (the intercom shuts off automatically when a direct call is placed). Jack didn’t think that the priest would argue with him, but he was in the habit of giving out information on a need-to-know basis, so all he said was, “The captain said we’re to get back inside the ship and go to the bridge.”

  Fr. Xris didn’t question this, and they re-entered the ship, took off their space suits, and went back to the bridge. Space suits had improved considerably in the 500 years humanity had been visiting space, but not to the point of being comfortable.

  When they got to the bridge, Jack asked what was going on.

  “The error is too high,” Katie said. “The best I could get is plus or minus ten thousand kilometers. Even that’s only under optimistic assumptions.”

  “But our navigation doesn’t normally have error bars that big!” Jack exclaimed.

  Belle cut in.

  “Under normal conditions, we move slowly and we know our precise mass and starting vectors. And we don’t normally do anything nearly this precise. When we travel within a solar system or to stay in the slipstream, we make constant course corrections.”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?” Jack asked. “I mean, can we get more accurate if we assume the mass of the pirate ship?”

  “Maybe a little bit,” Katie said. “But we don’t know how much fuel and cargo they had. Empty to full can be triple the mass.”

  “Can’t we go to the middle of your error bars and then spiral around looking for the slipstream?” Jack said.

  “Only if you don’t mind running out of fuel before we leave the slipstream,” Belle said. “You know we don’t carry that much extra fuel.”

  “There must be something we can do!” Jack all but shouted.

  “Maybe there is,” Katie said. “We have lots of data I haven’t checked yet.”

  “Then check it!” Jack yelled.

  “That’s enough, Jack,” Belle said. “We all need some sleep--”

  Belle saw that Jack was about to protest and cut him off with a gesture to be quiet.

  “We may not have the time for it, but we can’t afford mistakes or sloppy thinking, either. Katie, how long have you been up for?”

  “It feels like 5 days, but aside from the one hour of sleep I got right before the attack, I’ve been up for about 36 hours.”

  “The way I see it,” Belle said, “We’ve only got one shot at getting back in the slipstream. Whatever we do, we have to make it the best that we can do.”

  She
saw Jack getting ready to argue.

  “We may be getting further from the slipstream, but we’re going at a constant velocity, so we’re not getting any more uncertainty, at least. Let’s all get a few hours sleep and see if we can do any better in the morning.”

  Jack knew the look in the captain’s eye when she wouldn’t tolerate dissension, and he saw that look in both eyes, so he kept his objections to himself and trundled off to bed.

  Fr. Xris finally had an opportunity to inform the other passengers what was going on, so he gathered them in the lounge to tell the story once. Xiao took the news stoically, Shaka took the news calmly, and Hannah all but panicked. At Shaka’s request, he led them in prayer. Xiao didn’t take part, but encouraged them to pray on the theory that it couldn’t hurt.

  Katie decided to take a few minutes to visit Freia before heading off to her own bed. She was asleep when Katie got there, but stirred at the noise.

  “Hi,” she said weakly.

  “I heard what happened,” Katie said. “How are you feeling?”

  “About how you’d expect,” Freia said. “Or maybe a bit better since you tend to be a pessimist. Did you hear how my hero rescued me?”

  “I did,” Katie said.

  “He’s a lot stronger than he looks,” Freia said. “He carried me the whole way from engineering to the command room, and I don’t think he even had to breathe hard. Not that I remember very clearly. I’m a little light headed. It’s a pity he won’t claim his hero’s reward.”

  “It is,” Katie agreed. “You look like you could use some cheering up.”

  “Oh stop it,” Freia said. “I’m smiling as much as someone who’s nearly dead can, and you know it.

  “I do,” Katie said. “I was just teasing.”

  “So you’ve accepted that he means it when he says that he won’t have sex?” Freia asked.

  “Yeah,” Katie said. “I’ve kind of realized that I was wrong about him. It’s not just that he risked so much to save you, and he’s not in love with you.”

  Freia raised an eyebrow. There was an odd tone in that line, almost like it was self-referential.

  “So you’ve discovered you like him?” she asked gently.

  Katie was silent, which between them was as good as saying yes.

  “Neither of us can have him, and there’s no use in regret,” Freia said. “So what was the other reason?”

  “Spark was killed in the battle,” Katie said, “and so I had to fix the system generator by hand, and he volunteered to be my assistant.”

  “And?”

  “And he did a good job, and was completely professional. He wasn’t like any of the other Christians I’ve met, always carrying on and demanding that you say you believe. He was just... normal. Helpful and polite. And he knows his stuff, but respected that I knew my stuff too. And all that despite all the shit I’d given him. Anyone else would have treated me...”

  She paused, looking for words.

  “Like you deserved?” Freia suggested helpfully.

  Katie laughed.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Pretty much.”

  They were both silent for a moment.

  “Treating you better than you deserve, and with no ulterior motive. That’s just weird,” Katie said.

  “It is,” Freia said. “It’s almost enough to make you wonder whether there’s something in Christianity after all.”

  She laughed, and Katie, initially hesitant, laughed too.

  “Almost,” Katie said.

  “So what’s the latest happenings?” Freia asked. “I’ve been asleep since Stan bandaged me up. I assume since you’re here and we’re still alive that we defeated the pirates?”

  Katie filled her in, then went off to her own bed.

  * * *

  Fr. Xris stopped to check in on Freia but saw that Katie was with her and so went to his own room. He had only been there a minute when Hannah knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “Hi,” Hannah said.

  Fr. Xris hadn’t opened the bed yet, so he did so and gestured for Hannah to take one end of the makeshift couch.

  “I’m scared,” Hannah said.

  “That’s understandable, given the circumstances,” Fr. Xris said.

  “How can you stay so calm?” Hannah asked.

  “Practice,” Fr. Xris said. “All my life I’ve been reminding myself to trust in God, and to stick to worrying only about what’s within my power to do something about.”

  “But how do you do that?”

  “Face things as they are. Death is not just an end. It’s also a beginning. All your natural instincts will scream that it’s the worst thing that can possibly happen. They’re wrong. I mean, they’re right from their own perspective, but their perspective is limited.

  “Christ sweat blood shortly before he was to be crucified. He knew with perfect knowledge what was going to happen to him, and his animal nature (part of his human nature) cried out against the evil that was going to happen. But his human reason as well as his divine nature knew the bigger picture, that this natural evil was in service of a moral good, and in the end, he set aside the cries of his animal nature that natural death was imminent. He didn’t stop knowing it. He didn’t stop feeling it. He simply acted despite it. His animal nature didn’t understand what was going on, which isn’t its job. That’s why reason is set over instinct. To rule it.

  “Incidentally, it’s not fair to blame your instincts for shouting loudly. It’s really more a matter of the reason (and will) being weak from atrophy. None of us are continually our own masters; we don’t use our spiritual muscles, so they’re weak when we need them.

  “That’s why the church has fasts and silent retreats and why ascetics starve and (within limits) torture themselves. The flesh isn’t bad, it’s good. But the mind is supposed to be strong enough to control it. All of those things where you deny yourself or otherwise act contrary to your instincts are just spiritual pushups. You do hard work when you don’t need to, so you have the ability to do hard work when you do need to.”

  “So what should I do now? I’ve never fasted or been on a retreat or any of those other things.”

  “The best you can,” Fr. Xris said. “That’s all anybody’s supposed to do. That’s all that God asks of us. So be as patient as you can. Remind yourself that you might die, but if you do, God will make sure that it was at the right time. When your animal nature screams at you that death is terrible, agree with it, then do whatever it is you should be doing. And don’t forget that you might not die, and if you don’t, there are profitable things you could be doing with your time. Certainly no fast will ever give you as much discipline as practicing being calm in the face of likely death. Also, may I suggest re-reading the gospel of John? It’s the most transcendent of the gospels, and if you’re to conquer instinctual things like fears, transcendence is what you need most.

  “I can also recommend a number of prayer practices that will help to take your mind off of your fears. Since you don’t have a job on the ship, you’ve nothing more practically important to do than prayer, and prayer is one of the great consolers. Jesus prayed constantly, and so should we.”

  Fr. Xris went on to explain a number of different types of prayer. Silent prayer versus spoken prayer. Free-form prayer versus wrote prayers. Mantras like the Jesus prayer (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”) Hannah listened intently, which was part of the point. Fr. Xris knew what panic was—well enough to know that calm could be shared. Listening to someone, regardless of the topic, who spoke in a steady and purposeful voice helps to dispel, if only for a while, the power of animal fear.

  At length Hannah was as comforted as she was going to get under such deadly circumstances. She thanked Fr. Xris and got up to leave. When she had gotten to the door she turned and asked, “Father, would you baptize me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “We need water.”

  “How about the sink in the bathroom?” Han
nah said.

  “That would work,” Fr. Xris said. “in fact, running water is preferable, though only for symbolic purposes.”

  “I’ll go check to make sure that the bathroom is empty,” Hannah said.

  They went to the women’s bathroom and it was indeed empty, all of the crew being asleep, so they went in.

  Fr. Xris turned on the water faucet, and with it running, turned to Hannah and asked her, “What is your name?”

  “Hannah,” Hannah said, a little confused.

  “Hannah, what do you ask of God’s church?”

  “To be baptized,” Hannah said, catching on that this was a ritual set of questions.

  “Do you reject Satan?”

  “I do.”

  “And all his works?”

  “I do.”

  “And all his empty promises?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you believe in God the Father, almighty, creator of heaven and earth?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you believe in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, died, was buried, rose again, and now is seated at the right hand of the Father?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting?”

  “I do.”

  Cupping water in his hands, he poured it over her head and said, “I baptise you in the name of the Father...”

  He cupped water a second time in his hands and again poured it over her head, “And of the Son...”

  He cupped water a third time in his hands and once more poured it over head, “And of the Holy Spirit.”

  She looked at him with a mix of expectation and curiosity.

  He smiled at her and said, in a conversational tone, “You are now baptized. Your sins have been cleaned, and you are marked as one of Christ’s own forever. Welcome into the church, and go and sin no more.”

  Hannah felt confused. She had now done what she had thought about doing for so long, and it didn’t feel magical. Big things never do outside of the movies, since in movies big things don’t really happen, actors just fake reactions. Hannah decided to act according to what the thing was, rather than how she felt. She smiled and hugged him.