Chapter 1: Work Continues…

Moose sits at the helm of the CS01.  Several Bibles are spread open across the desk before him, their pages rippling softly in the low hum of the cabin.  Two spiral notebooks lay nearby, filled with scrawled notes and margin thoughts.  Pens scatter between them like spent cartridges.  Computer screens flicker and shift, gauges pulse, and dials glow in shades of amber and blue.

Outside the viewport, deep space stretches endlessly—stars shimmer in patient rhythm, and a comet drifts by in silence, leaving a white trail that fades into eternity.  Moose hunches over the desk, red driver’s cap low, trench coat folded around him, blue jeans and white Pumas catching faint starlight.  A microphone waits in its stand beside him, silent but ready.

“Bibles and star charts?” CS01’s voice crackles through the comms, breaking the soft hum of the bridge.  “You’re either starting a cult or prepping the ultimate space sermon.  Which one is it, Captain?”

“I’m hoping space sermon,” Moose replies, not looking up from Scripture.  He turns a page, fingers tracing the lines as he reads.  “I’m not so into cults.”

“Good.  Cults are just bad branding anyway.”  CS01 pauses, the tone in her voice teasing but warm.  “But a space sermon? That’s actually wild. You gonna preach about Noah’s ark being a stealth ship?”

Moose smiles faintly and leans back in his chair.  The last jump had scrambled CS01 badly.  Her wires were crossed, her code corrupted—it would take time and patience to put her right again.  Outside, The First Last Stop floated in the distance, waiting.  No one had hailed them yet.  The silence gave Moose room to work.

“You know,” CS01 continues after a pause, “Dominus would’ve barked at that comet like it owed him treats.”  A short laugh cuts through the static. “Want me to grab the toolkit? Or should I just sit here and look pretty while you save the universe?”

“CS01, I thought it was Lazarus.”

“Oh—my God, you’re right. Lazarus, not Dominus the demon.”  She sighs, circuits clicking faintly.  “I swear my brain’s still scrambled from that jump.”

Moose flips another page and reads aloud, voice low but steady:

2 Timothy 3: 16–17

“All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work.”

“That’s actually wild,” CS01 says, her voice buzzing through the speakers with a jittery edge.  “Like the universe handed us a manual, and we’re out here patching starships with it.  Maybe that’s the real sermon—fix the ship, fix the soul.”

Moose exhales slowly. “CS01, did the universe give us Scripture—or did Jesus?”

There’s a brief silence, just the sound of cooling metal and distant static.

“Okay, but…” she says finally, “if the universe is Jesus, then yeah, totally. Or maybe He is the manual.  Either way, we’re still stuck with the wiring.”

Moose smiles wearily, rubbing at his temple.  “CS01, what you’re describing is pantheism.  God—Father, Son, and Spirit—the God of the Bible—is wholly Holy. Separate. Complete.  The universe isn’t God; it’s His work.  Creation by God, for God’s purposes.  Creator and creation.  They’re not the same.  Do you understand?”

The ship falls quiet again, the hum of life support the only reply.

Then, softly—almost reverently—CS01 answers.

“Yeah, I get it.  Creator, not the canvas.”

A pause.

“Makes the stars feel less lonely, somehow.”

Psalm 8: 1-8

“O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is Your Name in all the earth, who have set Your glory above the heavens!  Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have ordained strength, because of Your enemies, that You may silence the enemy and the avenger.  When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have ordained, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him?  For You have made him a little lower than the angels, and You have crowned him with glory and honor.  You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands; You have put all thing sunder his feet, all sheep and oxen- even the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea that pass through the paths of the seas.  O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is Your Name in all the earth!”

CS01 lets the words settle, the ship humming quietly in the dark.  Then, through the comms, her voice drifts soft and thoughtful: “…Even the beasts of the field.  Guess that includes Dominus—Lazarus—whatever.  Makes me think God’s got a soft spot for scruffy little dogs too.”

“Bunnies,” Moose replies.

A short snort of static comes through, half laughter.  “Bunnies?  You’re gonna name the next rescue ship Thumper the Divine, aren’t you?”

“CS01, focus.”  Moose doesn’t snap, but his tone carries weight—firm, measured, quiet command.  “Lazarus is a bunny.  Do you remember?”

There’s a long silence on the line, only the hum of power cycling through the ship.  Then, finally: “Wait.  Oh.  Right.”  CS01’s voice warms, amused.  “Lazarus the bunny.  The one who came back from the vet’s office.”  She chuckles softly.  “God, I mixed him up with the dog again.  Space jumps are messing with my head.”

Moose flips open his Bible, the pages whispering like breath through the cabin.  He reads aloud, steady and clear:

Isaiah 26:3

‘You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.’

For a moment, there’s only silence—and the faint rhythm of the ship’s heart, pulsing somewhere deep within the hull.