Death in Space

I read about the tragic space mission on the BBC website when I was trying to find out what time Miss Marple was on. It was very sad, the four astronauts were on a twenty year mission to visit the nearest planet outside this solar system, in Alpha Centauri, and return with samples.

They were just over a year into the mission and on the verge of passing out of our solar system when their ship was hit by a piece of stray space rock, a mini comet if you like. The ship survived mostly intact, but the hole sucked out all of the oxygen and the astronauts died in an instant.

Of course I was devastated by the bad news, but as Death’s PA I couldn’t help one corner of my brain thinking ‘that’ll be a fun trip for him’. Death’s never been into outer-space before, this would be his first trip outside the solar system. Neither of us know if there is life on other planets, but if there is they clearly have their own methods of dealing with death, as there has never been any demand for his services.

I thought no more of it, I had a pile of paperwork to deal with and I was meeting my friend Sheila for lunch, who’s PA to one of the more famous Gods, I will say no more than that. Then suddenly the phone rang, for only the second time in all the decades we’ve had it. I was getting used to answering it by now though.

“Hello, Death’s realm, how may I help you.”

“IT’S ME,” said Death, “I’M TRAPPED ON A SPACE SHIP. I NEED YOU TO GET ME OUT.”

“You’re trapped? How, you’re Death, you can move through time and space, there is no limit to your powers.”

“THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT. BUT I’VE JUST DISCOVERED THAT MY POWERS STRETCH NO FURTHER THAN THE SOLAR SYSTEM. THE SHIP WAS JUST WITHIN MY LIMITS WHEN THEY DIED, BUT BY THE TIME I’D FINISHED WHAT I DO IT HAD PASSED THROUGH THE OUTER LIMIT AND I AM NOT ABLE TO GET BACK.”

“Won’t NASA bring the ship back anyway?”

“NO. NASA NO LONGER HAS CONTROL OF THIS CRAFT, IT MUST BE FLOWN MANUALLY. I NEED TO BE TOLD HOW TO FLY THIS SHIP SO THAT I CAN BRING IT BACK TO MY REALM.”

“So you want me to contact NASA and get them to talk you through?”

“NO, NO, NOT NASA. THEY WON’T BELIEVE YOU AND EVEN IF THEY DID THEY’D DEMAND FAVOURS FROM ME. THERE IS ONLY ONE SOUL THAT CAN HELP. I WANT YOU TO CONTACT NEIL ARMSTRONG, HE HELPED TO DESIGN THE FLIGHT-DECK OF THIS SHIP, ONE OF THE LAST THINGS HE DID. HE WILL HELP ME.”

Death tends to treat all of his clients equally. However, very, very occasionally a client manages to impress Death and Neil Armstrong was one of these. When Death came Neil passed him a piece of moonrock, gathered by his own hand.

“I’d like you to take this,” he’d said, “I can’t take it with me, but I don’t want to leave it here. If you could ever find a way of smuggling it into heaven I’d be eternally grateful.”

“I DO NOT SMUGGLE MOON-ROCK MR ARMSTRONG,” Death had replied, but he must have been a fan, as he kept the piece of rock on pride-of-place display on the mantelpiece, where it sat now.

“But Neil Armstrong is dead,” I said, “his soul is on the other side, I have no way of reaching him. How could I get a message to him, how could he help you?”

“I AM TALKING TO YOU OVER THE SHIPS RADIO. I COULD TALK TO NEIL THE SAME WAY. YOU NEED TO VISIT THE FERRYMAN AND TAKE A RADIO MECHANISM TO THE SHORES OF THE DEAD, SO THAT NEIL ARMSTRONG CAN TALK TO ME.”

“But there are a hundred billion souls on the other side and I cannot even take one step onto the shore. How shall I ever find him?”

“TAKE THE MOONROCK. HE SHALL FIND IT, HE IS WAITING FOR IT. IT SHALL ALSO SERVE AS PAYMENT FOR A FAVOUR TO A FRIEND.”

So for the third time in my life I went for a ride with the Ferryman. He was waiting for me when I arrived on the shores of the river Styx.

“Do you know why I have come?” I asked.

“I always know,” he replied. “You are here to take your soul across the river Styx to the Shores of the Dead, a land where the living may never tread, to deliver a piece of moonrock and a radio device to one who has crossed this way already and shall not be coming back.”

“That’s it in a nutshell,” I said and leapt in the boat.

As usual the Ferryman was silent as we crossed the great river, and I was happy to sit back and enjoy the journey, which will surely be the last time I make such a trip while my soul is in my body, though in my job I guess I can never be sure of anything.

At the Shores of the Dead I cast the radio and moonrock onto the shores, together with a brief note explaining the situation.

What happened next I can never know exactly, but by the time I had crossed the River Styx, thanked the Ferryman and returned to my office Death was already there, making me a pot of coffee.

“THAT WILL BE A BIG SURPRISE TO NASA,” He said, almost laughing. “TO SEE THEIR CRAFT SUDDENLY DO A U-TURN WHEN THERE’S NOBODY ALIVE TO FLY IT. THEY’LL PROBABLY WASTE YEARS TRYING TO WORK OUT HOW IT WAS DONE.”

“They’ll never guess it was the ghost of Neil Armstrong and the figure of Death,” I said, sharing the joke.”

After a short break for coffee Death returned to work, and nobody on Earth was aware how close they came to mass immortality and the chaos that that would bring.