IGMS Issue 48 by IGMS

Author:IGMS [IGMS]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Hatrack River Enterprises
Published: 2015-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

I dreamt of Earth, hanging in space. The orb, the marble, the planet that gave us life. In my dream we were in the process of leaving it; far out, far away, but not so far that I couldn't still see the distinctive white whirl of clouds draped over the planet's surface.

Except this wasn't possible. I'd been placed in cryo before Voyager lifted off. I should have no memories of leaving Earth. I should have no --

Something slammed into the ship. It shook, and shook again, and I looked up and to the left, saw an iceberg -- a literal iceberg -- at the edge of my view. It loomed, pointy and slim at the top, rounded and immense at the bottom, floating against a background of star-freckled space. The ship rumbled again from another impact and when my vision cleared now there were dozens of icebergs, more than I could count; filling my field of view.

There came another impact, another rumble, another --

My eyes sprang open; my heart pounded inside my ribcage.

Above me a dark silhouette in human form.

"Michael?" I asked hopefully.

"Wake up, Mr. Fallgood," the silhouette said.

My head cleared. No, not Michael . . .

I recognized the med-center even as the memory of the dream melted away to be replaced with the reality of someone shaking me; waking me.

"Mr. Fallgood," the silhouette repeated. "You need to rise, brother. You need to follow me. Quickly."

Random specks of light emanated from the medical apparatus; otherwise it was dark.

"Why?" I said. "What's going on?"

I wasn't going anywhere with someone I didn't know, and this was clearly no official visit.

"I want to introduce you to some people, folks I think you'll like more than that science-worshipping doctor. He hated you from the moment he found out what you believed. I want you to meet some folks who'll treat you better."

"There are Christians on this ship?"

"We have to hide in order to worship. They won't let us do it openly."

That was always the church's finest hour: when it met and worshipped and grew in secret, persecuted yet persevering. From 2nd century Rome to 20th century China, the church always thrived when giving strength to the oppressed.

"Take me to them," I said.

My mysterious benefactor lowered the rail on one side of the gurney and I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge. I scooted my rear forward, placed my feet on the floor, and promptly collapsed in an ignominious heap.

"You're still weak from cryo," the silhouette said, bending to help me. It was then, with his face close, that I recognized him. The albino in the orange-sleeved jumpsuit; part of the crew who found me.

"The electronic stimulations they run through you when you're in hibernation are barely enough to prevent total muscular atrophy. It'll be a while yet before you're walking on your own."

He knelt beside me, pulling my arm around his neck and standing us both upright. "You think you can walk if you lean on me?" he asked.

I wondered for a

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