Explosions wracked the ship. Damage control parties were spread thin.

Crew member Bruce 'The Moose'

Morris ("An Engineer, on a by God, for real, Spaceship!") ran down the corridor to the damaged terrajoule
capacitor. That last blast had reached deep into the core of Earthbound, damaging a back up fusion
reactor and the power mains that cross-connected the ships’ distributed, redundant systems. The TJC
was one of several that stored peak demand energy for the main weapons as well as emergency
systems.

The holographic, phased array, display painted his eyeballs with an overlay of the problems, plural. The
capacitor was largely drained, but sectors of it were unfortunately isolated and still charged. Broken relief
switches blinked and the ship A.I. showed him suggested by-passes.

"I can do this," Moose muttered, and added, to the computer, "Thank you." He dropped his toolbox and
started to shuck the browncoat he wore over his engineers' coveralls.

Adruptly, the damaged sectors began to fail, in a chain reaction. There was a little time, but only just, for
Moose to think of Belinda and the rest of his blessings.

"Thank you for my li-"

The blast cut through the ship, reaching out hungrily. A very small part, really, lanced into the corridor and
cut Moose down.

****

Later, Linda got away, alone, and found the spot where Moose had died. She got down on her hand and
knees, running her hands through the sludge in the corridor and holding them up in front of her, palms
facing her, hands dripping muck. She was trying not to cry, but her face crumpled up, and her chin
quivered. Then she shouted.

"Damn it, Moose! You went away and left me alone. Damn you! Damn you-"

She flung herself against the wall, sobbing and punching it, again and again, until the pain in her body
finally got through to her distant self, and soon after someone from Medical, sent by the computer, came
down to see to her bloody fist.

***

“Nobody knows who I really am

I never felt this empty before
And if I ever need someone to come along,
Who’s gonna comfort me, and keep me strong?”

-closing song from BLEACH, an anime series that I like, VLC

***

While Linda was in Medbay, getting her hand taken care of, Dr. Korolev brought her a stained piece of
paper. "This was in his coat pocket, and somehow it survived."
Linda took it and nodded, opening the folded paper carefully with her good left hand and a little help from
her bandaged right. "Yeah, in his inner left pocket, right over his heart."

"What is it?" Dr. K. asked.

"A poem he liked. For mechanics and engineers, people who do and make things work. The Sons of
Martha. He was a son of Martha."

The Sons of Martha, Rudyard Kipling

THE SONS of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary’s Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.

It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.
It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.

They say to mountains, “Be ye removèd.” They say to the lesser floods “Be dry.”
Under their rods are the rocks reprovèd-they are not afraid of that which is high.
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit-then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware.

They finger death at their gloves’ end where they piece and repiece the living wires.
He rears against the gates they tend: they feed him hungry behind their fires.
Early at dawn, ere men see clear, they stumble into his terrible stall,
And hale him forth like a haltered steer, and goad and turn him till evenfall.

To these from birth is Belief forbidden; from these till death is Relief afar.
They are concerned with matters hidden-under the earthline their altars are:
The secret fountains to follow up, waters withdrawn to restore to the mouth,
And gather the floods as in a cup, and pour them again at a city’s drouth.

They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts work loose.
They do not teach that His Pity allows them to leave their job when they damn-well choose.
As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert they stand,
Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren’s days may be long in the land.

Raise ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more fair or flat;
Lo, it is black already with blood some Son of Martha spilled for that!
Not as a ladder from earth to Heaven, not as a witness to any creed,
But simple service simply given to his own kind in their common need.

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessèd-they know the angels are on their side.
They know in them is the Grace confessèd, and for them are the Mercies multiplied.
They sit at the Feet-they hear the Word-they see how truly the Promise runs.
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and-the Lord He lays it on Martha’s Sons!
***

Belinda Ferrari came to visit Mark Chandler in Medbay, after all of Sunday morning's excitement. Medbay
was much quieter, today, with all the wounded discharged except for Mark and Dorotea, who was still in a
drug-induced sleep.

"We've got to talk, Mark."

"Yes, I suppose we do. Did you get the silver dollars?"

"Yeah, and xie-xie. I appreciate the thought, but I think I'm going to ask them if we can cremate…" She
looked away and rubbed at her face with her good hand. "Uh, spread the ashes in the Garden, like we did
with Joe. We might end up doing that with Narice's body, as well, I don't know."

Mark indicated a chair, then tried to reach out and pull it around for her, but she stopped him.

"None of that, 'kay? I've had the word from Dr. K. You just lay back and stop being all manly and stupid."

Mark laughed, but still looked troubled. "I suppose this isn't about you and Moose, then. I'd wanted to say
a few things to you, yesterday, but you were in and out of here." Avoiding me and Julia, he added, to
himself.

She said, "Later, if you still feel like it. You know, I wanted you to give me away?"

He nodded. "Moose asked me to stay, 'Stick around for the Wedding. We'll talk the Captain around!' We
talked, or I talked and he listened. I told him he didn't need me to tell him how to be a man or a husband.
Me! God, what a farce that would have been…"

Belinda shook her head sadly. "I'm 22. I won't say you're being too tough on yourself. I'll let you know
what I think, in a couple of centuries." Mark looked startled and then they both laughed.

They sat in a companionable silence for a while, and both seemed somehow relieved. At last, Belinda
leaned towards him and handed him a stained and folded piece of paper.

"This is ship's business. It's about duty. " Mark looked up from the paper he was unfolding. "Bruce had
this poem in his Browncoat, in the inside left pocket. He wore it over his heart." She spoke the last six
words slowly and precisely.

Mark looked down and read the title. "The Sons of Martha?" There was a faint question-mark in his tone.
Belinda's mouth curved up, and it was like sunshine.

"Well, it is sexist, but what else would you expect? It's from the 19th Century. The past is a different
country and they do things differently there. But some things remain the same. There are a couple of lines
in there for you, if you'll forgive me for, ah, preach-ifying."

They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts work loose.
They do not teach that His Pity allows them to leave their job when they damn-well choose.
"Finish the job, sir. All of it. I'll speak to Julia, too."

Mark nodded, but turned away from her. Belinda looked at him with concern. Special Hell!

He spoke very quietly. "I was afraid. Pure naked fear, and I didn't admit it to myself or anybody." He
reached out and took her good hand, squeezed it. "Costigan, when he was trying to figure you out, the
Three Amigos, You, Moose and Julia, with your crazy little 'Fandom,' he asked me why I was humoring
you. I didn't have a good answer. Almost all of Science Fiction scares me, and not just the stories and
movies and TV shows where things go wrong. Oh no, the worst ones are the bright and shiny futures…
The ones that don't have any people like me in them. In Star Trek, where are the working class people,
Joe Six-pack, the trailer-park trash? And don't tell me that people get along. They don't always, even in
the best of times, with the best of intentions. This is what scared me about the Captain's ideas."

Belinda sighed. "I don't have a church or anything, and I don't automatically believe in the good in
everybody, like Julia, well, usually does. I've got to work at it. You have to look for the good in people, for
the good in any situation, or you might never find it. Mark, will you do that for me, please? Because I
really need for this to work. I'm being selfish, but it's just-"

"It is just unacceptable for us to fail, now."

***

"All I'm asking, Moose, is don't be a hero." Belinda winced, inwardly, at the cliche. She reached out and
pulled a strand of hair out of his eyes, thinking, ‘He needs a hair-cut.’ "I know you, you'll do something
heroic and stupid, maybe manly-"

"Maybe manly!? Gee, thanks."

"This isn't a joke. I'm serious. And I've heard you go on at length about Heinleinian heroes and such."

"Hey, I was pretty drunk. Too drunk to play 'Sabrina', so I sang Hero of Canton a capella, and made up
new verses..." ‘Aw man,’ Moose thought. ‘She's giving me 'The Look.' Say something, idiot!’ "Be-linda."
That got him a smile. ‘Oh, God,’ he thought. ‘I love her.’

"I want to live, live forever and terraform Mars, all of that.” She laughed. ‘I want to live forever and
terraform Mars’ was one of his catch phrases. “I want us to live, have lots of fun and adventures, get to
see the 'wider galaxy' and maybe be heroes and heroines. But." He put his finger to her lips, shushing her
objection. "We can't play it safe. This ship, and the people in it, they need us." Moose hugged her, a little
too hard, and she just gritted her teeth and hugged him back, with all her strength. "I'm scared, too. But
there's no place else I can be."

***

Sabrina sits on his chair, un-played.

My heart is heavy.
My hands are dumb.
I listen for songs, un-sung.
 ***

Dorotea is fast asleep in Medbay, and she dreams.

***

Dee was sitting up in her bed, talking very fast and excitedly with Narice, when Moose drifted in. He'd
failed at the other thing, and that was hard, but seeing them together made him smile.

"Moose!"

"Munchkin! Aren't you the one, all big and powerful. Use it well, and be happy, little one."

"I thought you were going to tell me," Dorotea began, but then Narice and Moose joined in.

"'With great power comes great responsibility!'"

"You already knew that one. Maybe you forgot it for a second, there, but that's understandable..."

Dee looked away, and then said, "Narice has been here for a while." It was a statement, not a question,
but Moose agreeably took it for one.

"I've been trying to talk to someone, but she's been too mad at me to hear, I guess. Or she doesn't want
to."

"You have to want to, to see..." Dee couldn't say the words, so Moose and Narice just nodded.

"That seems to be the way it works. I take it as a compliment, munchkin, and a sign of your excellent
character." The two girls giggled. Moose looked serious as he went on.

"Dorotea Marie Frade, Narice and myself have brought a message. 'More than you know are watching
what happens here, and some of the watchers sit in judgement.' Choose wisely, for all of our sakes, and
not just for Earth or Humanity."

Narice got off of the bed, standing beside Dee, holding her hand. "Tell your Jedi Master, no joking, Dee,
'This doesn't let you off the hook with me.' Tell him that, and he'll know what I mean."

Moose had one last thing to say, but it was obviously hard. "This is the part I didn't want to have to lay on
you. I'm not sure if I'm all dead, because now I'm worried about my immortal soul, which, assuming I have
one, ought to be beyond the reach of this 'Verse. Whatever."

"I'm going to tell you how to make a particular wormhole die easy, but let's hope that it doesn't come to
that. The Earthgate, the wormhole that Tae refers to as 'Wormy,' is not well. It hasn't been right for a long,
long time, but all of the stresses recently have sort of, uh, dislodged something, in the working parts of the
wormhole, the part of the wormhole that exists outside of our time and space. You can show Tae how to
fix it, or... Oh God, Narice, I can't do this."

"Then don't. It's not for us, and it's not for Dee." Narice looked over, at something that Dorotea couldn't
see. "Time to go. Time to see what comes next." Then she smiled at Dee, her sister of the heart.
"Say goodbye to Bea and Mr. Gee, Ken, for me, and," her eyes twinkled, "Tell them that I think Kyra is a
good name, too, but Narice is way better." She hugged Dee hard, and walked away very fast. Dee was
not quick enough to catch up with her, and found herself standing next to Moose, in the Garden.

"Tell Belinda that I love her, and I'm sorry. Will you tell her that for me?" He lifted her chin and wiped away
her tears. "No more of that. Who's my good girl?"

Very quietly, Dorotea said, "I am."