Where the Gods Play

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

It was a vivid warning passed on to space cadets in basic training. It was a truth accepted as an absolute by every single person who ventured into space. In the early days of space travel, they found out the hard way that taking short cuts led to tragedy. No human now ventured into space without an awareness of the risk and without a great respect for personal safety in space, whether their own or that of their fellow crew. No-one survives alone in space. It requires a team working together for all to stay safe. Never in the history of humankind had people worked together so well.

If you were lost in the vacuum of space, you were, by definition, lost forever. Alone and unheard for the rest of your brief and uncomfortable existence. Dying from asphyxiation is not a pleasant way to go.

When the cable snapped leaving Tom adrift in space, we knew his fate was sealed. Although in this age, a snapped cable was unthinkable, considered impossible, the crew still knew the consequences for a human stranded in the vacuum of space. With the loss of the connection cable, communication was also lost. He had no way of speaking to us and, we estimated, no more than ten minutes of air left.

Tom had almost completed the solo repair mission he was on. He was moving away from the ship to make one last visual check on the work he’d done when the cable gave way. His backward momentum continued to take him further from the ship. No rescue mission could possibly reach him in the available time and his steady progress away from the ship meant that even recovering his body was problematic.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I had never felt so helpless, so useless! Watching my husband’s last minutes from the safety of the ship, knowing that I would never again touch him, I broke. Clenching my hands together in mute appeal, I shouted my love. I shouted my prayer. The crew of five surrounding me turned their eyes from my anguish and so missed the moment of the miracle.

For a miracle it most assuredly was. One moment, Tom was drifting away from us, the next he was steaming towards us. It made no sense! It was impossible. Reacting to my gasp, John Benson, the captain, moved swiftly to my side. I could feel his shock as his body stiffened next to mine.

“Quick,” he ordered briskly, “get the inner hatch sealed and open the outer hatch.” Looking around, he sized up the situation. “Jenny, you’re suited up. Get out there to guide him into the hatch.”

As the crew rushed to obey, John efficiently but gently pulled me back into the inner chamber.

“We need to be quick, Katie. He’s almost out of air. Whatever is happening here, it’s still touch and go for Tom.”

Collecting myself, I smiled weakly at him and moved aside to let the others do their work. I was too shaken to try opening my mouth. The crew were so used to seeing me in control. As the crew psychologist, I was always the calming influence. As focused as I was on the hatch, I couldn’t help but see the troubled glances coming my way. I guess they were checking that I was okay, or maybe that I wasn’t going to do anything stupid to further endanger any of the crew.

Within two minutes, Tom had been brought in through the outer hatch, and repressurising was underway.

As the inner hatch opened, a medical orderly moved into the chamber and, without removing Tom’s gear, confirmed that he was indeed alive and breathing, if unconscious. “There’s some sort of metal object in his hand. I can’t get it loose. It’ll have to go to sick bay with him,” he reported after a cursory examination.

He called for two of the men to bring a litter to transport Tom to sickbay. The manual carrying of the litter was a jarring note in our otherwise mechanised existence, but there simply wasn’t the room in the ship for a hover-litter to be stored on the off-chance it might be required.

While the orderly was examining Tom, the captain had taken the opportunity to alert the chief medico, Dr Ben Roberts, to the situation.

Tom was carried along the corridor to sick bay, a good ten minutes’ brisk walk from the entry chamber, although on the same deck. John debriefed me as we followed behind the litter. “I have asked Adam to investigate the cable. We need to know how Tom ended up adrift.”

Whispering, so as not to alert the crew to his concerns, I asked if he was worried about sabotage. He didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t even look at me. Then, he stopped me as the litter continued on its way.

“Katie, I don’t want to believe that. This crew has been together for more than five years. But . . . that cable should be foolproof. Nothing like that has happened in more than a century.”

As I opened my mouth to reply, he put his finger to my lips, and said, “Later. We’d better get to sick bay.”

As we entered the room, Dr Ben was frowning as he studied the readings from his universal medical scanner. “Straight into the isolation room, boys,” he ordered, “then go to decontamination. The radiation readings around Tom are high. Jerry, make sure that everyone who was in the entry chamber goes through the decon procedure, just to be on the safe side.”

Turning to acknowledge our presence, he went on, “Captain, you will need to lock down this deck until it’s been cleansed.”

As he waited for the two men manoeuvre Tom into the scanner unit, Ben was scanning us for traces of radiation.

“Hmm, you’re both showing mildly elevated levels of radiation,” he quietly explained to me and John. “I’m not sure of the source of the radiation - whether it’s Tom or that object he’s clutching, but let’s play it safe. The three of us will need decontamination as well, but let’s see what’s going on with Tom first.”

“Are the crew at risk?” John asked.

“They should be fine, John, but I’ll know more once we establish what we’re dealing with. The decon procedure is thorough, but I’ll give everyone a proper check-up once Tom is stable.”

Turning to his instrument panel, he frowned. “Ah, yes, there are strong readings from the metal. Seems to be gamma radiation mainly . . . and quite localised. Yes, definitely coming from the object.”

I turned anxious eyes towards Ben.

“It should be alright, Katie,” he reassured me. “Tom won’t have been over-exposed through his suit. Still, I’ll give him a thorough check-up and he’ll go through decontamination like the rest of us.”

“What’s the metal, Doc?”

“Good question, Captain. The scanner is reading an object, but it’s not telling me what it’s made from. It has the properties of metal . . . extremely dense metal, at that. Where did it come from?”

“We have no idea. It was just there when we got Tom back.”

“What happened exactly?” Ben wanted to know.

“Tom’s cable snapped. God knows how.”

“But that’s impossible.”

“Yeah, it should be. But that’s what happened. Tom was drifting away from the ship.”

“Then suddenly that piece of metal appeared in his hand, and he surged towards us,” I volunteered. “I saw it happen, even though it made no sense at the time.”

John frowned at me. “It just appeared from thin air?”

“That’s what it looked like. Tom held it out in front of him and it seemed to drag him back to the ship.”

John looked over at the isolation room, and then turned back to the doctor. “So, Ben, what the hell is that thing?”

Sitting at the control panel, Ben looked back at us. “Honestly, I have no idea, Captain. As I said, the system doesn’t recognise the metal. It seems to be an alloy of some description, but it’s nothing we’ve ever come across before.”

We all turned to the isolation room. Tom was lying deathly still, hands clasping the metal object so that it was centred down his body.

Ben stood up. “Right, I’m going to wrest that piece of metal from him and lock it up somewhere safe. I have to contain the radiation before I can get any meaningful readings from Tom.”

Suited up in protective gear, Ben entered the isolation room. As he touched the metal, Tom’s hands loosened. Ben shook his head as he turned to place the object in a sealed container. Checking the ambient radiation levels, he again shook his head, before removing Tom’s helmet and peeling his suit open.

“What happened, Ben? You looked surprised,” I queried as he returned to us.

“It was weird. I could have sworn the metal moved itself from Tom’s hand into mine. My imagination is working overtime!”

Moving back to the instrument panel, Ben ran a thorough set of scans on Tom. He sounded puzzled as he leant back in his chair, scratching his head. “Ha, he’s in perfect health.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” I murmured.

“No, Katie, I mean literally perfect health. His body is perfect. His eyesight is 20/20, the scars on his leg have disappeared, his blood pressure is perfect”

“What are you saying, Doc?” John demanded.

“I don’t know how, but all his old, normal imperfections have been . . . corrected. It’s impossible . . . well . . . obviously not impossible . . . but definitely inexplicable.”

“But is he safe? Is he contaminated? Is he infectious?”

“Captain, the instruments show a perfect human specimen. He’s less contagious than I am!”

“And what about radiation levels?”

“Oh, now that’s interesting!”

“What is, Doc?”

“There was virtually no residual radiation in the isolation room or on Tom’s suit. What’s odd is there was no radiation at all in Tom’s body.”

“None? But that doesn’t make sense. If we have radioactive traces, how can he not have?”

“Captain, I honestly have no idea. But he’s as clean as the proverbial whistle!”

“But . . .”

“Captain, I agree. It doesn’t make any sense. And I’ll tell you something else that doesn’t make sense. The metal has suddenly stopped radiating. It’s completely inert. And that’s impossible.”

The captain looked bemused, “Or at least inexplicable?”

Ben frowned, “Yes Captain. Definitely inexplicable.”

“So, when you say suddenly?”

“I mean, as far as I can tell, as soon as it left Tom’s hands, it stopped radiating.”

The three of us looked at each other in puzzlement, and then our eyes were once again drawn back to Tom.

“Oh my, Ben, I think he’s waking up!”

Checking his instruments, Ben concurred. He continued to monitor the output as Tom swam towards consciousness. As my husband finally opened his eyes and blinked, I almost thought I saw a flash of light from under his lids. Watching him stretch his arms, I felt a surge of love and gratitude.

Tom pushed himself off the table, and looking at us through the glass asked with a wry smile, “What’s up, Doc?”

“Hey Tom, you’re in surprisingly fine form given your little adventure today.”

Tom’s facial expression froze, and his body stilled. Then he nodded.

“The cable broke while I was outside the ship. I remember.”

“That’s right. I’d like to monitor you for a little longer just as a precaution.”

“Whatever you think is for the best, Ben.”

“You hang out in the obs room while the three of us go and decontaminate. Don’t want to irradiate you through carelessness.”

Tom turned back to the scanner unit and lay down again, arms folded across his chest. As he glanced back to where I was standing watching, I blew him a kiss. For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, but he slowly winked, then looking straight ahead he closed his eyes.

John, Ben, and I went through the decontamination process, and reconvened in fresh clothes. We were the last of the crew to go through the process, and the cleaning crew reported that the ship itself had also been decontaminated. With the metal no longer radiating gamma rays, it appeared we had averted any potential crisis. Before returning to Tom, the three of us had a brief planning meeting. Well, perhaps planning was too strong a word, but we at least had a conversation.

“So, Ben, can I take Tom back to our quarters, or do you want him to stay in sick bay overnight for obs?”

“I’ll check the updated scans that have run since we’ve been away. If nothing has changed, I think you can take him home. I’ll see him again in the morning.”

The subsequent scans showed nothing short of perfection. Ben again shook his head in wonder. Then glancing over, he waved at the door and told us to get out of there so he could get some real work done.

As we walked to our rooms, Tom did not utter a word. His movements were smooth and unhurried, while his eyes were in constant movement, taking in details of the ship as made our way up three levels to the crew quarters. John came along for a ‘quick debrief’.

Inside the room, I bustled over to the drinks cabinet and poured three hefty scotches. Turning back to the men, I saw them standing face to face, eyes locked. Their stance looked combative, which made no sense to me. These men were close friends.

“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, moving to the table. As I sat, I looked up and realised that neither man had moved. In fact, I don’t think they were even aware I was in the room. Wondering if Tom was having another lapse of consciousness, I yelled to the captain.

John, obviously startled, shook himself and stepped away from my husband. Looking around as though waking from a vivid dream, he came over to the table and grabbed a glass. Taking a decent slug of the whisky, I watched as he visibly started to come back to himself. As the ship’s captain, John was generally so in control. I had never seen him look so vulnerable and uncertain as he did in that moment of recovery. I made a mental note to talk to him about it later. Right now, Tom was my top priority!

As John moved away from him, Tom continued to stand in the middle of the room, eyes slowly moving to take in all there was to see. He still had not spoken a word. More than that, I realised, his face was almost expressionless, mask-like.

Clearing my throat, I suggested he join us at the table.

Looking at me and then at John, he waved his hand in the direction of the bedroom. “I’ll just freshen up. I will not take long.” His voice was calm, steady.

As my husband disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door, I felt myself sag. John patted my arm and focused on me.

“Poor Katie, this has been a hell of a day for you.”

I laughed, a little shakily, I admit. “A hell of a day for all of us!”

“Tom seems to have recovered well.”

“Hmm, yes. He does. He seems almost Zen . . . if that’s the right word.”

“He certainly doesn’t seem to be upset or fazed,” the captain agreed.

“That’s a good point, John. It’s almost like there’s no emotional reaction at all to almost dying.”

“Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet. I mean, he was unconscious for quite a while.”

“Maybe. I guess time will tell.”

“Anyway, Katie. I won’t stay long. I just want to see what Tom can tell us about what happened out there.”

I took another sip of my whisky, and almost choked when Tom spoke from directly behind me. “Thomas Charles Croyden reporting for debriefing, Captain.” He snapped his heels together and saluted. John and I grinned at him, but he continued straight-faced, standing stiffly at attention.

“At ease, Tom. Come and have a drink.”

Tom frowned but moved to sit across from the captain. Reaching for his whisky, he drank it down like a glass of water, with no obvious reaction to the potent spirit.

“So, Tom, take me through what happened out there,” John began.

As Tom shifted his gaze to John, I again saw a brief flash in his eyes. I gasped, breathing in the mouthful of liquor I’d just taken. Pushing myself up from the table, I rushed to the kitchenette, coughing and spluttering, to gulp some water to sooth the burn in my throat.

Ignoring my distress, Tom focussed on John and finally opened his mouth to speak. His voice was somehow dreamy but oddly inflectionless.

“My call was heard,” he said. Then looking over at me, “Our calls were heard. The Gods answered.”

“The gods?” I whispered.

“They gave me the lightning. They saved my life.”

“The lightning?”

“The metal rod is the lightning.”

“Okay, got it. So, talk us through the events out there, Tom.”

As Tom shifted his gaze to John’s face, I saw the captain flinch and rub his eyes.

“The Gods came. They gave me the lightning and set me on my way.”

“But nobody saw anyone there but you.”

“And yet, the lightning cannot be disputed.”

“That’s true, John. The object does exist,” I agreed quietly.

“Do you have any idea how the cable broke, Tom?”

“I don’t. Perhaps it was meant to be. The threat to my life brought the Gods to me.”

“The Gods? Who are these Gods?”

“They are the Gods. They are the bringers of life.”

“Okay, we seem to be going around in circles. You must be tired after the day you’ve had. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As he rose to go, he subtly beckoned me.

“Thanks John,” I said as I saw him to the door.

“I’m at a loss, Katie. I’d better go do my rounds. The crew must be wondering what the hell is happening with Tom.”

Before he headed off, he paused. Throwing a quick look back to where Tom was sitting stiffly at the table, he quietly suggested I keep digging into what went down. “You’re the psychologist. If anyone can get to the bottom of the mystery, it’s you.”

As the door closed behind him, my shoulders slumped with fatigue and I turned to face my husband. I felt an immense surge of love for this miracle man.

Walking back to the table, I put my arms around him from behind and hugged him as hard as I could, “I thought I’d lost you.” I blinked back tears as he put his hand on my arm.

I choked back a sob.

I can’t lose you! I love you so much!

“I love you too, Katie.”

Snuffling, I straightened up and moved across to bring the whisky bottle to refill our glasses.

“You helped save me, Katie. The Gods heard your call and answered.”

“What Gods, Tommy? I don’t understand!”

“I thought I was dead, Katie. I cried out, as did you. And the Gods answered.”

“What happened? It seemed like one moment you were drifting away and then the metal . . . the lightning you called it . . . was pulling you to the ship.”

“I was transported to a place. I was lying in a room surrounded by the Gods. Beings of immense power and benevolence. They spoke directly into my mind. They told me they heard our call.”

“They heard our call?”

“Our anguish . . . our terror . . . it called to them. They heard. They answered.”

“But I swear you didn’t go anywhere. I don’t understand.”

“They told me I was in a place outside time. The home of the Gods where time holds no sway.”

“They said they were Gods?”

“No. But they must be Gods.”

“So, a race who communicate telepathically heard you call for help?”

“Heard us call for help. You are part of this, Katie.”

I waved that away and kept going. “And they teleported you to them?”

“It would seem to be so.”

“Well, I’m eternally grateful to them for giving you back to me.”

“They are still with me. They are curious about our race.”

“Sorry. They’re here now?”

“Yes Katie. They exist in a different dimension. They are simply not visible to you, as yet.”

“You can see them?”

“Yes Katie. The eyes of my mind have been opened.”

“Are you sure you’re not hallucinating? It’s been a terrible ordeal for you?”

“I can open your eyes too, Katie. I can bring you into the presence of the Gods.”

“So, I could see them too?”

“Exactly. I can open your eyes.”

His eyes flashed. There was no mistake. I did not imagine it. A light flashed from his eyes. His eyes were compelling. Perfect eyes, the doctor had said.

Suddenly I found myself wondering about the moment with Tom and John when we got back to our rooms. They had seemed mesmerised, frozen. I wondered whether the eye flash had some hypnotic power.

Oh my God, what am I thinking? This is Tom, my husband.

“You must be hungry, Sweetheart. Let me get us something to eat.”

He frowned but didn’t protest.

The food we ate on the ship on long hauls was dried and needed to be reconstituted. In essence, add water and the hard meat softens. Add water to the dried and powdered vegetables and you ended up with a puree. Much of the time we ate soups and stews. As I prepared a chicken, pumpkin, and rice soup, I tried to come up with some theories to explain what Tom was saying.

I had to concede that one theory was that he was right and there were Gods out there. That seemed pretty far-fetched, however.

Assuming the facts as Tom reported them were essentially correct, a second theory was that there were indeed telepathic alien beings who were, to all intents and purposes, invisible to the naked eye.

A third theory was that Tom was mentally destabilised by the trauma of almost dying. He was having a psychotic episode and hallucinating. Oddly, I didn’t mind that theory because it seemed somehow more palatable than invisible aliens. That didn’t account for the strange metal object though, or the changes in Tom’s physiology.

Theory four. Maybe there were aliens and they hypnotised Tom into believing the God story. That was possible.

Damn, I’m starting to believe in invisible aliens.

I was taking a sip from my whisky glass and shaking my head in dismay. “The Gods are real, Katie!” When I finished coughing . . . again . . . I rounded on my husband. “Will you please stop sneaking up on me!”

He ignored my outburst. “The Gods are real, Katie. I am not hallucinating. I have not been hypnotised.”

“Ha, it’s almost as if you were reading my mind, Tom.”

“I can hear your thoughts when I’m close to you, Katie. The Gods have shared the power of their speech with me.”

“You can hear my thoughts?” The question popped rather harshly out of my mouth.

“I can hear you, Katie. Our minds are connected through our appeal to the Gods. We are blessed.”

Walking to the other side of the room, I motioned for him to stay back from me.

“Tom, you’re scaring me. I’m not sure I like the idea of being surrounded by super-beings I can’t see or hear.”

“Join with me, Katie. Let me show you our Gods.”

“Our Gods, Tom?”

“Our saviours, Katie. They only want to make us better.”

“But what if I don’t want to be . . . better?”

“I’m not sure there’s a choice to make, Katie. The Gods are here.”

“Perhaps we should get you back to sick-bay, Tommy? I’m worried about you.”

“I’m not sick, Katie. I’m cleansed. Purified.”

“Brain-washed,” I thought to myself, hoping that he was telling the truth when he said he could only hear my thoughts when standing close to me. I peered over at my husband . . . my lover . . . my best friend, and I started to wonder if our lives would ever be the same again.

“Katie, I have been exposed to the truth. Please let me share that with you.”

“I’m not at all sure I’m ready for the truth,”

I had no idea what to do. I badly wanted to talk to the captain, run the situation by him, but I wasn’t prepared to leave Tom alone. I was confused and scared. Tom seemed so calm, so sure of himself. I should have been so relieved and grateful to have him back from the face of death, and yet . . . and yet, I found myself uncomfortable in his presence. His calm seemed unnatural, dare I say, inhuman? What a terrible thought to have about my own husband.

I was certain of one thing. I didn’t believe in Tom’s Gods. I was starting to believe in invisible aliens though. I was also starting to worry that Tom wasn’t really my Tom anymore. The doctor said Tom was perfect. Can a perfect being still be a human being? Surely humans are not meant to be perfect. It’s our combination of strengths, weaknesses, inspiration and flaws which makes us so amazing.

“Katie, look into my eyes. It’s going to be alright. You’ll see. You’ll understand everything if you just look into my eyes.”

Involuntarily, I glanced over. Tom was standing tall, holding the metal object I thought was locked in sick bay in his hand. His pose was reminiscent of Thor, the God of Thunder, with his mythical hammer.

Startled into pointing, the question burst from my lips, “How did you get that back?”

“The lightning is mine! It belongs with me.”

And with that, as much as it pained me, I knew action needed to be taken. I could no longer deal with this alone. Avoiding Tom’s eyes, and keeping my distance from him, I walked over to the communicator and put in a call to the captain. "Captain, we need security here on the double. We have a code red situation."