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"Hey, dreamer!" Her brother’s voice cut through the air—and her thoughts. "Come
here and tell these kids how I made it snow on the moon!" Even though he was only
ten, two years younger than her, he’d already shown remarkable aptitude in
environmental engineering and was allowed to help the Artemis colony engineers
work the environmental systems.
Of course, the way he talked, you’d think he was the older and he’d made it snow all
by himself, Annie grumbled, but she turned away from the sight of the boy chasing
the birds—geese, Uncle called them—and went to support his story.
Besides, it’s not like I don't have a calling of my own, she thought as she trudged
through already melting snow to the knot of boys. She smiled and stuck her hand in
her pocket where she’d put a small laminated card of St. Gillian of L5, Patron Saint of
Space. On one side was a picture of the saint in a vac suit holding a stylized crucifix.
On the other was the Prayer of St. Gillian. Sister Therese had given it to her the day
she’d rescued Annie’s class when their shuttle broke down.
The Order of Our Lady of the Rescue had begun in the early years of space
colonization. Originally known as the Order of Our Lady of the Rescue, it was
founded by the widow-turned-nun of R. Charles Hawkins, one of the most important
scientists of the space era. As the economic advantages of space industries, aided
in no small part by his inventions, increased, so did the number of people who
worked and lived and even raised families in space. With the increase of population
came an increasing need for people to fill religious roles.
Contrary to authors of old, humankind did not abandon its need to express its faith
when it took to the stars, nor did it adopt a single enveloping generic faith. Despite
the Spacer’s Code that encouraged open-mindedness and an accepting attitude of
differences, people still wanted to worship in the way they were raised or were
most comfortable with and to pass on their traditions and practices to their
children. Those whose religions allowed the use of lay religious leaders or
emphasized individual expression of worship fared well, but as the number of
Catholics in space grew, so did the need for consecrated priests, deacons and even
nuns.
In those early days, however, serving a religious need was not enough in itself to
justify the cost of putting and keeping someone "up there." Everyone served a dual
purpose at least. Gillian found that purpose.
"St. Gillian knew that as more and more people populated space, there would be
more and more emergencies," Sr. Therese had told Anne as the young girl stood
spellbound in the cockpit of the rescue ship, watching as her friends were loaded by
threes into an air-filled "rescue ball" and pulled from the shuttle. She had been one
of the first evacuated from the school shuttle, which had been hit by a micro-
meteoroid and was leaking air slowly. When one of the sisters had seen the fabric
crucifix necklace she clutched, Anne was invited to watch the rescue up close. Sr.
Therese had kept up a running commentary about the rescue, the ship and now the
Order.
"You can train people, establish failsafes, but accidents still happen, after all. And
she knew that at some point, they would need search and rescue forces to deal with
them—dedicated forces, not just people trained to do this as an extra duty. Now,
the big profit-minded corporations of the time weren’t all that interested in building
such a force--didn’t think it 'cost effective,'" the young sister snorted, "so Sister
Gillian convinced Pope John Paul III to let her start an order with that mission. All of
us have a vow of poverty, which makes us cheap labor, I suppose. The corporations
provide us with the necessities to live, and donations take care of our training and
equipment." She turned to Anne and smiled. "It’s a wonderful life, exciting, fulfilling,
and where else can you feel closer to God?"
She’d answered Anne’s questions then about the ship and its controls, and invited
her to pray with her for her classmates as they watched them, small and huddling in
the big bubbles, accompanied by a vac-suited member of the Order who pulled them
along. When the evacuation was over, she invited Anne to sit in the fold-out seat
behind her that was used for early trainees so she could watch the docking. By the
time she was back on the station and in her mother’s arms, she knew what she
wanted to do with her life.
Someday, I’ll be a pilot for the Order of Our Lady of the Rescue, and I’ll rescue
people for air and supplies and the love of God. It’ll be so exciting. She shivered
again.
Her brother looked at her with disgust. "You really that cold?" he demanded. His coat
was unzipped like the other boys. "The colony’s always warm," he explained to
them. "Seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit, or the gravity generator starts acting up.
Nobody knows why, even after two hundred years. That was the hardest part of
making it snow—getting it cold enough in the dome while keeping gravity at one G.
Tell them what my idea was, Annie," he said, suddenly feigning humility.
"You don’t need gravity to make snow," Anne supplied, shrugging in annoyance. The
boys didn’t look particularly interested. "Everybody knows that, so he asked why
they didn’t just turn the generator off."
That got their attention. "Nano! So you just floated?"
"Of course not," her brother scoffed. "There’s still gravity on the moon, just—" A
loud cracking sound followed by a short scream interrupted him.
"Somebody fell through the ice!" They took off for the lakeside.
Anne surged ahead, making her longer legs and adrenaline rush work for her.
Someone needed rescuing! As she neared the lake, she saw some older boys
hurrying, too. One fell to his belly and started crawling.
What’s he doing? Get up and run! she thought. The little boy’s screams faded in and
out as he bobbed in the water. Someone had to get to him fast! She ran out onto
the lake—
And fell through the ice.
Robert and Karina Fabian © 2009
here and tell these kids how I made it snow on the moon!" Even though he was only
ten, two years younger than her, he’d already shown remarkable aptitude in
environmental engineering and was allowed to help the Artemis colony engineers
work the environmental systems.
Of course, the way he talked, you’d think he was the older and he’d made it snow all
by himself, Annie grumbled, but she turned away from the sight of the boy chasing
the birds—geese, Uncle called them—and went to support his story.
Besides, it’s not like I don't have a calling of my own, she thought as she trudged
through already melting snow to the knot of boys. She smiled and stuck her hand in
her pocket where she’d put a small laminated card of St. Gillian of L5, Patron Saint of
Space. On one side was a picture of the saint in a vac suit holding a stylized crucifix.
On the other was the Prayer of St. Gillian. Sister Therese had given it to her the day
she’d rescued Annie’s class when their shuttle broke down.
The Order of Our Lady of the Rescue had begun in the early years of space
colonization. Originally known as the Order of Our Lady of the Rescue, it was
founded by the widow-turned-nun of R. Charles Hawkins, one of the most important
scientists of the space era. As the economic advantages of space industries, aided
in no small part by his inventions, increased, so did the number of people who
worked and lived and even raised families in space. With the increase of population
came an increasing need for people to fill religious roles.
Contrary to authors of old, humankind did not abandon its need to express its faith
when it took to the stars, nor did it adopt a single enveloping generic faith. Despite
the Spacer’s Code that encouraged open-mindedness and an accepting attitude of
differences, people still wanted to worship in the way they were raised or were
most comfortable with and to pass on their traditions and practices to their
children. Those whose religions allowed the use of lay religious leaders or
emphasized individual expression of worship fared well, but as the number of
Catholics in space grew, so did the need for consecrated priests, deacons and even
nuns.
In those early days, however, serving a religious need was not enough in itself to
justify the cost of putting and keeping someone "up there." Everyone served a dual
purpose at least. Gillian found that purpose.
"St. Gillian knew that as more and more people populated space, there would be
more and more emergencies," Sr. Therese had told Anne as the young girl stood
spellbound in the cockpit of the rescue ship, watching as her friends were loaded by
threes into an air-filled "rescue ball" and pulled from the shuttle. She had been one
of the first evacuated from the school shuttle, which had been hit by a micro-
meteoroid and was leaking air slowly. When one of the sisters had seen the fabric
crucifix necklace she clutched, Anne was invited to watch the rescue up close. Sr.
Therese had kept up a running commentary about the rescue, the ship and now the
Order.
"You can train people, establish failsafes, but accidents still happen, after all. And
she knew that at some point, they would need search and rescue forces to deal with
them—dedicated forces, not just people trained to do this as an extra duty. Now,
the big profit-minded corporations of the time weren’t all that interested in building
such a force--didn’t think it 'cost effective,'" the young sister snorted, "so Sister
Gillian convinced Pope John Paul III to let her start an order with that mission. All of
us have a vow of poverty, which makes us cheap labor, I suppose. The corporations
provide us with the necessities to live, and donations take care of our training and
equipment." She turned to Anne and smiled. "It’s a wonderful life, exciting, fulfilling,
and where else can you feel closer to God?"
She’d answered Anne’s questions then about the ship and its controls, and invited
her to pray with her for her classmates as they watched them, small and huddling in
the big bubbles, accompanied by a vac-suited member of the Order who pulled them
along. When the evacuation was over, she invited Anne to sit in the fold-out seat
behind her that was used for early trainees so she could watch the docking. By the
time she was back on the station and in her mother’s arms, she knew what she
wanted to do with her life.
Someday, I’ll be a pilot for the Order of Our Lady of the Rescue, and I’ll rescue
people for air and supplies and the love of God. It’ll be so exciting. She shivered
again.
Her brother looked at her with disgust. "You really that cold?" he demanded. His coat
was unzipped like the other boys. "The colony’s always warm," he explained to
them. "Seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit, or the gravity generator starts acting up.
Nobody knows why, even after two hundred years. That was the hardest part of
making it snow—getting it cold enough in the dome while keeping gravity at one G.
Tell them what my idea was, Annie," he said, suddenly feigning humility.
"You don’t need gravity to make snow," Anne supplied, shrugging in annoyance. The
boys didn’t look particularly interested. "Everybody knows that, so he asked why
they didn’t just turn the generator off."
That got their attention. "Nano! So you just floated?"
"Of course not," her brother scoffed. "There’s still gravity on the moon, just—" A
loud cracking sound followed by a short scream interrupted him.
"Somebody fell through the ice!" They took off for the lakeside.
Anne surged ahead, making her longer legs and adrenaline rush work for her.
Someone needed rescuing! As she neared the lake, she saw some older boys
hurrying, too. One fell to his belly and started crawling.
What’s he doing? Get up and run! she thought. The little boy’s screams faded in and
out as he bobbed in the water. Someone had to get to him fast! She ran out onto
the lake—
And fell through the ice.
Robert and Karina Fabian © 2009
Excerpt From
"Leap of Faith"
by Karina & Robert Fabian
"Leap of Faith"
by Karina & Robert Fabian
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