What's insanity?

dr lokken would rather eat a whole lemon than willingly hug, touch, or hang out with grace (and he feels the same) but they're standing beside leclerc when the shockwaves from nuking the arctic come in and they both hug him at the same time when he cries again. neither of them mind that they are holding each other too.

dr lamai is estatic when she sees more people being physically affectionate with grace. it takes her very little time to shyly ask if maybe he wouldn't mind them linking arms sometimes when they walk, and if he's comfortable with cheek kisses. she smells like jasmine and hand sanitiser and its one of grace's favorite scents on the ship.

dubois and shapiro worm their way into this dynamic by folding grace into their mix. if they're sitting together in the lounge, and shapiro kisses dubois on the forehead before she leaves, grace is getting one too. if dubois is walking between them, an arm around shapiro's waist, you better believe the other one is around grace's.

yao is the least touchy of the lot, partly because it isn't his scene, and partly because he believes he has a certain amount of deatchment he needs to uphold as the commander of the mission. regardless, he doesn't shy away from firm handshakes or pats on the shoulder. he finds grace not-quite-crying the day after they all discuss their preferred suicide methods and gently touches grace's cheek in comfort and solidarity when the tears finally fall.

and oh dear... eva stratt

she doesnt let herself touch him, even if she wants to. she doesn't even particularly care about the intimacy or the affection or the "implications" (she's not stupid. she knows what everyone thinks the two of them are doing). to stratt, a kiss or a hug mean the same thing.

but she won't let herself touch him because she's going to have to kill him and if she knows the warmth of his skin when he wraps his arms around her she won't be able to and the earth will die,

instead, she watches dmitri practically pick him up and ilyukhina smack a fat kiss to his cheek while yao smiles fondly. she watches him and dr lamai skip down a hallway, arm in arm. she watches dubois rub circles into his back and shapiro prop her feet up in his lap and wants. wants the sun to go back to normal, wants this all to be over, wants not to be killing these three brilliant minds. wants not to be killing grace.

The boy, Ryland Grace, explained that he had just arrived at Tau Ceti. He talked about how the crew died in their comas in-transit. He said that he might not be a grown-up, he might not be trained for this, but he will do everything he can to save Earth. That he’s studied everything he can about the Astercide, about science and biology, and he was ready to made the Earth and his Mama proud.

He was wearing his mother’s yellow flightsuit. The shoulder seems hung well down his arms, and the legs and arms were rolled up so much it was almost comical.

Someone beside Stratt was retching into a wastebasket.

It was never supposed to be this way.

It was supposed to be a pilot, a backup pilot and second in command, two engineers, two scientists. Redundancy after redundancy after redundancy. No room for failure in an already long shot mission.

Stratt was absolutely furious with Marilyn Grace.

She thought she could trust her. Grace had understood her in a way so few people did. Stratt loved humanity, Grace loved life. She loved people, the nature, the cities, drinking, hugging, kissing, dancing, sing, cooking, sex, friendship, family, and all the facets that makes humanity. Marilyn Grace understood the stakes. Or Stratt thought she did.

“I-I hope humanity has lots of babies after we fix the sun.” She sloppily said as she stumbled onto where Stratt was looking out to the ocean. A very convenient hiding spot from the party going on. Grace took another long drink from the Malibu Rum bottle she was holding.“I always wanted to be a mama, and now I’m not going to. Is it bad I want that generation named after me? They all can be my babies.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” Stratt had asked her.

“No!” She answered a bit too loud. “I’m here because I can help save the world! If I’m somewhere not-here and making babies then I’m not saving the world. I’ll just be bringing babies into a colder, meaner world.”

Somehow it made sense at the time.

Ryland Grace’s existence didn’t make sense right now.

If it was a moment of selfishness on Grace’s part, then she wouldn’t have gone into that coma. It would’ve been mortifying to be around her as she grew a baby inside her. Stratt could imagine her smiling throughout the whole thing. Terrible morning sickness would just be met with coos about her little one being a picky eater. Harassing everyone around her about ultrasounds and name ideas. Inviting anyone to touch her stomach when they first start kicking. Cradling her belly as she dances with her baby and sings to the worst pop songs imaginable.

Grace would not have missed those moments for anything in the universe.

Unless it wasn’t her choice-

Eva Stratt prided herself on her ability to destroy factors that could hinder her mission. Now a single moment of thoughtlessness proves she isn’t as inhuman as people like to claim, and now there’s a little boy with the weight of an entire planet on his tiny shoulders.

Mary did you know that your baby boy-

Stratt immediately shut out the song out of her head as quickly as it came to her.

The next video was playing.

“Sooooo I met an alien!” Ryland Grace proudly announces. He looking up at the camera with a huge grin across his face. Big enough everyone can see one of his adult teeth was still growing in. “Anddd we’re learning to communicate.” He added as he took off a piece of duct tape to add to the monstrosity in front of him.

“The language rule is 250 words to order at restaurants right? Then we can go to one!” He said picking up what they can now see is a laptop. “Well technically. In Rocky’s culture it’s private to eat. Like going to the bathroom. And I’ve never been to one. I wonder which ones Mama liked. I wish I could go to a diner, like in the movies.”

For moment it looked like Ryland was going to cry.

“M-Mary stop the video.”

The video stops and restarts.

The sound of retching again. This boy should be on Earth. Riding a bicycle, making crude jokes with his friends, huffing over his mother’s fussing. Not making videos with the weight of the world on his shoulders and not even letting himself cry over it.

“Sorry.” He says, still taping the computer. “Anyway, Rocky and I were sending messages back and forth. I’ll add the videos at the end, but we were able to figure out a lot of stuff! His atmosphere is made of ammonia! And very, very hot. He’s from the 40-Eridani System, and they have a Petrova Line too! My atmosphere would kill him and his, me but it’s not like I’m not used to being the only one here.”

It was far to dark of a joke for someone who hasn’t even hit puberty yet. Stratt doesn’t know who she wants to scream and rage at, but the desire to was a rotten beast clawing the inside of her chest.

Might also be the nausea.

“He’s a mechanic, I think. He uses a metal form of xenon, and he can make anything! Look at this!” Ryland says as he gets up and holds up a piece of metal. “I’m calling it xenonite. And if I can’t understand what he’s saying, which is most of the time, he puts on a little puppet show for me and my tiny brain!”

This child’s brain was far from tiny. She doesn’t subscribe to traditional ideas of intelligence, but Ryland’s ability to learn and retain was astounding. His ability to search for information on the database she gave is an incredible feat.

And heartbreaking because he knew far too much.

And her mission was in his small, fragile hands.

“I should mind it I think. I don’t want Rocky to know how young I am because what if he doesn’t trust me to help? He needs a smart science human like I need a smart engineer Eridian. His sun is dying too, we can help each other.”

The videos he added after that were horrifying in their own right.

Ryland was still shorter than the shortest person on the mission, and smart enough to realize attempting to alter the EVA suit was risky.

The duct tape holding down the extra fabric and the rounds of it around his boots and legs turned out to be least horrifying aspect of his first ever spacewalk.

First person to contact intelligent alien life and youngest person to ever perform a spacewalk. Whichever way Marilyn was looking at them, Stratt hoped she was proud and appalled in equal measure.

Nobody has ever said she had kindness for even honest mistakes. She hopes Marilyn is ashamed. One encounter too close to launch and the thing she wanted most is suffering because of her carefree attitude.

The tunnel with the clear wall was a stark reminder Ryland Grace was just a boy. He made silly poses with the alien, and trusted them far too easily.

She couldn’t even get angry. There’s no one there to warn him of stranger danger, and what would be the point if you were the stranger to even to your own homeworld?

“He, uh, figured me out.” Ryland said next. He laughed nervously.

He was carrying a pillow under one arm, and the Good Luck Quilt was slung over his shoulders. It looked worn and old and well-loved.

Stratt audibly sighed in relief. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about it, but he had a comfort item after all. He had something more to hold him than the limp or cold hands of the crew of the Hail Mary.

“He wasn’t mad, and he’s not gonna like, lock me in a crib anywhere. He just made me promise I’ll listen to him since he’s the only adult for light years. Which is understandable. It’ll be nice to have a grown up tell me to go to bed. I have to do a lot of studying and research to understand the Astercide problem and Project Hail Mary and Earth, so I’m going to take advantage of an adult giving me permission to sleep instead while I can.”

Are they going to be able to release any of this to the public?

“Speaking of, I’m doing my first sleepover!” Ryland excitedly told the camera. “I told Rocky I needed to sleep and apparently Eridians sleep way differently than we do. They become paralyzed, so they can’t wake up if danger comes they need someone to protect them.”

Ryland suddenly looked very sad.

“Rocky watched his entire crew die. Like me. He’s been alone out here. Like me. And now he wants to make sure I feel comfortable and safe.” Ryland smiled. “Aliens are good! They’re not like the scary movies at all. I hope lots of people see this so when we save our stars we can do space travel and be friends.”

Stratt could theoretically hear people weeping around her, but she was too focused on his little face. He’s a sweet boy. A sweet, smart boy who has gone through horrors that are going to traumatize psychologists for decades.

And if he knew what the Project Hail Mary mission was, he likely knows he’s going to die. That he doesn’t have the fuel to get to Earth. He likely knows that ship is his tomb. The tomb of a human child who has never felt and will never feel their sun’s light on his skin.

This might be the one bomb to her soul she can’t survive. She always knew if Project Hail Mary failed it would destroy her, but she never anticipated that there would be competition.

In the end, only Stratt and the captain could stay.

He was a big, stoic man, and she has long admired his ability to keep a level head in even the most dire situations.

Even his lip was wobbling a bit.

“I HAVE A NEW ROOMMATE!!” Ryland practically squealed. The captain grinned at his enthusiasm. “Rocky and I spent hourssssss on his tunnels but it’s worth it! It’s nice to have an adult here. He can tell me when to sleep and when to eat and I don’t have to feel bad. It’s nice that I can act a little silly and stupid and scared and he’s here.”

And both Stratt and the captain are back to feeling horrible.

“Grace? Has Grace found the sampler instructions, question?”

“Check this out.” Ryland said as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Sure did, Rocky?” He turned the camera to show how far away Rocky was.

Bright chittering.

“The way our species evolved gives us both strengths and weaknesses. Their engineering science is absolutely incredible.” the boy said turning the camera towards himself again. “But solving their astercide problem was the first time Eridians have ever explored space. They didn’t know a lot of things, like radiation...Rocky’s crew died of radiation.”

Stratt remained silent. She wished she could feel grief for Rocky’s crew right now, but Ryland was taking up too much space right now. She was sure it will hit her later.

“Erid has a very thick atmosphere, so they didn’t even know it existed. The only reason Rocky survived was because his workshop was right next to the Astercide.” He sighed. “I logged the errors that made the coma systems fail, and it should be in what I send back.”

The way this child is going back and forth in sounding far to old for his years or like a small boy is going to give her a heart attack.

But yet another sin on her back, and one she failed to give any serious thought to. What if the whole crew dies? She told people nothing about this was safe, but she supposed she believed too much in the Hail Mary to believe six people would die in space before even getting to Tau Ceti.

“In the movies there’s a thing where they do a moment of silence to honor people. Can we...can we do that?”

“Of course, Ryland.”

It was the captain who spoke.

A long moment passed.

“They better- they better get more than a moment of silence.” Ryland announced fiercely. “Statues and places named after them and awards for how brave and smart they were. I wish I could’ve met them. I wish-” He turned the video off.

He turned the video back on. His eyes are red.

“Rocky came up with a plan. We’re gonna orbit Tau Ceti – E to get an Astercide sample, and work from there to figure out why it isn’t eating the star here.”

The next video was extremely short.

Ryland Grace and Rocky in the Mental Health Room.

“Thank yoooooouuuuuu Eva Stratt!” Ryland said gleefully as he stood in front of the image of a beach.

“Thank you Eva Stratt.” Rocky dutifully repeated.

“She pirated the entirety of human knowledge!”

“Amaze amaze amaze.”

“I only know anything because of it! The mission only continues because her-”

Stratt skipped the video. The captain silently stared out the window as the wipers swiped back and forth.

The next one was short too.

“Tau Ceti – E is a boring name for a planet.” Grace said into the camera. “Is anyone attached to that name specifically? Rocky was the first one there.” He picked up his translation laptop and played a long series of musical notes. “He let me pick the human name for it. Adrian. His mate’s name!”

She was mentally sorting through her remaining connections. Although if they do find a solution and release these videos she doubts anyone would refuse his requests so far.

The next one was Rocky talking this time. Talking about an insane plan of a long chain, Ryland on the hull and piloting, and fishing.

“What think, Earth?”

She thought it was the dumbest thing she’s ever heard, but she had no right to complain.

She’s the one who hadn’t thought of a collector, she’s the one who sent Marilyn Grace to space only for her son to survive them all, she’s the one whose this baby’s blood is on her hands.

Rocky impatiently tapped the barrier. “Hello?!”

“They can’t hear you.” Ryland spoke up off screen.

“What?”

“We’re not actually talking to Earth. Earth’s too far away.” Ryland explained, moving stuff around, “We just record these messages and we tell ’em what we’ve learned, and then when we’re done, we’ll send them all back in a probe.”

“Why not you tell them yourself when you return home, question?”

“Yeah. This...this is it for me Rocky.”

Stratt held her breath. She didn’t know what she was hoping for. For Rocky to never know and happily live with the assumption this little boy got to go home? That he finally felt his star’s light on his skin, touched grass, ate greasy diner food? Or did she hope Rocky would find out and berate her? Blame her for this child’s suffering?

“What?”

“We had enough Astercide to get here but not enough to get back.”

‘We’ he says, like he wasn’t the most heavy unforeseen consequence she’ll have to bear.

“So, what happens to Grace, question?” Rocky says. They’ve both forgotten that the video was still rolling.

Stratt can’t tell if his casual attitude was forced, or he genuinely saw nothing wrong with his death.

“So Grace die, question?” Rocky asked, the text to speech getting emotional. She wasn’t sure if it was something Ryland programmed himself, or came built in, but it was doing extremely unhealthy things to her heart.

“Yeah, once we’re done, I’m...I’m gonna join Mama.”

She looked over to the captain. He was staring straight ahead. His posture as stiff as a board.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rocky asked firmly. Ryland opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. “No. Grace say Grace go home. You never corrected when I said you’d get to climb trees and swim and see fog and walk in big cities when you went home.”

Ryland tried to talk, tried to make him understand.

“Mama and everyone were willing to die for Earth! And they’re not here so I have to now! If I can save Earth then it’s made all the nights I curled up in Mama’s limp arms worth it! Then it’s made the silence and loneliness and being never meant to be here worth it! A-And I got to do amazing things too! I met you, we renamed a whole planet, we’re gonna save our stars. I’m good. I promise, Rocky.”

Stratt...can’t even begin to process that. Most of what she’s seeing she’s not going to be able to process until years down the line. And she’s only hearing it. She tries to imagine that for herself for a moment, and it’s too big. She turns to the captain instead, just to have a break from her own emotions.

His body hasn’t moved, but his head is hung low. She can see he’s crying.

“Need words.”

“W-what words do you need?”

“To...be so scared, but do it anyway. To be caring and gentle and helpful. Need more, but don’t have words describe them.”

Ryland added brave and kind to the computer.

“Grace is- bravest, most kind human in the universe. Earth would be lucky to have him.”

“Ah, are you joking? Since I’m the only human you’ve met?”

“No!”

Ryland flinched back.

“Bravest, kindest human. Earth would would be better with you on it.”

And Ryland, turned away. “Thank you.”

He’s never had to learn how to accept a compliment.

Rocky seemed to realize something.

“How much astercide do you need, question?”

Ryland sighed as he sunk down against the wall.

“Two million kilograms.”

Rocky was doing quick math in this head and on his fingers.

“I can give.”

Stratt gasped. The captain whipped around and was beside her in two steps. They both stared at the screen.

Hope. Please.

“I can give. I have extra. Can give that much and still have plenty for my return trip to Erid. You can have.”

Ryland at first tries to deny it. To prove he can’t actually have it. He’s trying not to get his hopes up.

Stratt and the captain would have enough for him.

“Rocky watched crew die. Could not fix. Grace say Grace will die. Rocky fix.”

Ryland started to noisily sob.

“Grace go home.”

He could only cry. It sounded like it was reverberating inside his chest. It sounded a decade old, it sounded like it spent his entire life building up.

“Oh, Grace.” Rocky cooed. Ryland practically collapsed onto him, his arms desperately trying to hug him.

“Thank you! Thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

“What is this action, question?”

“It’s a hug.” Ryland replied. “I’ve always wanted to do it, but you can’t-you can’t do it by yourself.”

“Understand.” Rocky said before he fell into the side of his ball Ryland was hugging. “Honored I am your first hug.”

“Me too.”

The next video was Ryland and Rocky standing in front of the airlock. Six corpses laid in front of them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to do this before.” Ryland said, looking up at the camera on the wall. He was wearing his mother’s flight suit again. “I hope their families can forgive me. I just...I just needed to not to be alone.”

Rocky let out a sharp noise. “Grace be nice to Grace.”

Stratt likes to think she’s destroyed all sentimentality she’s capable of. Even she would hardly begrudge him, when his only caregivers were robots and his only company were either comatose or dead.

Ryland dragged the first storage container towards the first corpse.

“Commander Yáo Li-Jie.” He began. He stood straight, trying to make himself look bigger and commanding, but only served to show he was child playing dress up. “We’ve never officially met before, but I knew you were smart and strong and brave. I hope you don’t mind that I looked through your pictures. Everyone on Earth says you were stoic and quiet, but in every one of these you’re making a funny face.”

Ryland sniffled.

“Sometimes when I got scared by the movies or had a nightmare I’d pretend you’d scare them away.” He whispered. “I hope the family you have on Earth is very proud of you.”

Rocky began to hum lowly.

The other crew members of the ship had begun to wander into the ship bridge again, but the captain remained beside her. He took off his hat and was holding it to his chest.

Ryland was gently moving the body onto what looked like a sked stretcher, but assuming it’s made of xenonite. He put Commander Yáo’s photos and what looked like a bucket hat inside. He pulled the makeshift stretcher across the threshold, let the feet rest of the edge, went back into the ship, and carefully lifted the feet until all of Yáo was inside the air lock.

“Do you think it be...disrespectful to put his bucket hat on?” Ryland asked as he sniffled, thumb brushing over the embroidery.

Rocky shook his entire body, but did not stop humming.

Ryland decided against it in the end, and commended his body to the stars with his pictures and bucket hat in his arms.

“Second-in-Command Yevgeniy Chaykovsky.” Ryland declared next. “You…nobody knows that much about you. People had a lot to say about you, but no one knew that much about you. I think you made yourself into whatever people needed you to be. Fun when people needed fun, serious and stoic in the face of panic. It’s a really cool skill. I wish you would’ve been here to teach me. In the press briefings you were always the one talking, and teaching. Wikipedia never mentioned you having family and I didn’t see anyone else in your pictures, but I hope that’s because you’re cool and mysterious instead of lonely.”

Like me, went unsaid.

He did the same for the second-in-command. Lift, air lock, commencement.

“First Engineer Olesya Ilyukhina. You were...legendary.” Ryland finally whispered. “You were always the coolest person in any room you walked into.”

He rifled through the pictures for a minute. “This picture of you sneaking into the Kremlin is incredible. I wish I could be even half as fearless as you were.”

He commended her body.

He turned to face the next body. Ryland Grace had his mother’s nose.

Rocky finally stopped his hum. “Grace. Do parent last.”

“I s-should do it order.”

“No. Earth should understand. Rocky understand.”

Ryland stared at her for a long moment. “Okay.” he relented. He sounded relieved.

“Good. Good good good.” Rocky stated before going back to his song.

Ryland continued.

“First Science Officer Martin DuBois. I read your papers probably hundreds of times. You wrote about so many cool things. Sometimes I think your papers were the only thing keeping me sane before I got to Tau Ceti.” Ryland started pulling out a book from DuBois’ storage. “Because of Rocky I’m going home. I think I wanna get a PhD, or multiple, like you! When I write my thesis I promise I’ll credit you.”

He didn’t send him off right away.

“Second Science Officer Annie Shapiro, you are a huge inspiration to me as well. You both helped me more than you’d ever know. Science isn’t some scary thing I have to know just so we can save our sun, it can be cool and fascinating and life changing.” Ryland breathed for a minute. “Maybe DNA splicing will save the world Dr. Shapiro.”

In the end Ryland was able to make the two hold hands. Rocky stopped his song to ask him why he was sending them off together.

“Apparently they liked to do gross, grown up things together.” He quickly turned to the camera. “I know what sex is, I’m a biology enthusiast and I still know stuff, but it’s gross and I don’t wanna think about it.”

Eva Stratt was forcibly reminded that she is human person, existing on earth, and not just an empty vessel watching this funeral service when someone snort-laughs behind her.

She still couldn’t tell him off. Of all the horrors their child of the Hail Mary has and will face, and human sexuality was the one he’ll refuse to acknowledge?

And finally, he turned to the final corpse.

“Second Engineer Mam-Marilyn Grace.”

He finally broke down into noisy sobs.

Ryland collapsed onto his knees and desperately curled up against her side. He reached over and pulled her arms until they were wrapped around him. For several long moments he could only wail onto her shoulder.

Rocky rolled up behind him, his humming taking on a more frantic edge.

“I hope you would’ve liked me, Mama. I hope you would’ve been proud of me.” Ryland paused to take a huge breath. “I hoped you would’ve hugged me and kissed me and be the one who taught me everything I know but-” He manipulated one of her arms again until the hand was tangled in his hair. “I saw in the wikipedia article that you wanted your dying wish to be the generation of kids after the Astrocide crisis be named in your honor.”

No one said a word. Not Ryland or Rocky, nor anyone watching these logs billions of kilometers and a decade ago away.

“Thank you for bringing me into this universe, Mama. I promise, Rocky and I will fix it. There will be the Grace Generation after all. And now I’ll get to live to see it!”

No one on the boat dared to speak after that. They silently watched Ryland extract himself from his mother’s arms, one last time, strapped her into the sled, dragged her to the airlock, and commended her to the stars too.

Finally, after all of that, he stared into the ship for one two seconds and started to sob.

Rocky frantically rolled over to his side, and Ryland didn’t waste a second wrapping his arms around the ball.

The cries were so deep Stratt was afraid he’d suffocate himself. That he’ll break his ribcage open and all the bravery this young boy had would come spilling out and he’d be left hollow.

“Mary, turn video off.” Rocky loudly said, before turning and making a soft, soothing noise at Ryland.

“Turning video off.”

The next log began.

“H-hey. Turns out I hate fishing.”

Ryland’s left eye and temple were bruised and swollen, gauze almost bled through. His eyes were red from crying. His entire left arm was wrapped in bandages.

“I’m not sure what to do.” He whispered. “I’m sorry Earth, I’m sorry Mama, but I’m so scared.”

The confession felt like claws around Eva Stratt’s neck.

“He had to breakout of his atmosphere to save me, and now he might die because of me. And I’ve done everything I can think of. I got him back in there. I got a heat lamp. I was going to try and get that soot off him but I’m too scared to make everything worse.”

Ryland brought his knees to his chest and started to cry again.

“His last message to me was ‘Save Earth Save Erid’. So I’m trying to. I found the predator -”

Ryland’s next words were cut off by the cheers of the crew. Stratt felt like she was going deaf with the joyous sobbing, hooting, and hollering around her.

There was more. She knew it. Ryland was a scientist. What he lacked in the formal training he made up for in passion, adaptability, and eagerness.

“I’m calling it Taumoeba. Until Rocky can wake up and tell me how terrible that name is. But it’s elegance to it. It’s simple and accessible. I’m writing my first scientific paper about it and everything. A-and about Rocky and the Eridians.”

A deep breath.

“I was testing it at different atmospheric conditions because it has to work, and turns out it dies whenever nitrogen is introduced. But don’t worry! I was rereading Dr. Shapiro’s paper and was thinking about DNA, and then I was thinking about evolution, which made me think of diseases that evolve to resist antibiotics!”

A strangled laugh. I used Rocky’s xenonite breeder tanks too, and now we’re so close the being able to breed the right strain to save Earth and Erid!”

The grin quickly fell off his face.

“Now Rocky just has to wake up. He has to take his portion to Erid, because I don’t know how to.”

Eva Stratt has waited decades for this moment. Why does it feel so hollow?

An amoeba that can eat astercide. The answer had just been told to her, she was going to review Ryland’s research, she was going to have the best scientists around the world recreate his results.

Why doesn’t it feel complete?

Because she believed in him. God, did she wish she didn’t have to, but she does. And he’s not celebrating yet, so the discovery that there is a solution still hasn’t hit her yet.

“Rocky is gonna be mad at me. I didn’t listen when he told me to get inside. It’s fine because I’m mad at him too. He’s not here to give me permission to sleep.” Ryland sniffled again. “He came crashing into my life and now I’m too scared and lonely and small to do this by myself anymore. And I can’t even regret meeting him.”

“Three hours has passed, Ryland Grace.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

“You’re welcome, Ryland Grace.”

“I have to check the cultures.”

And with that the video ends.

There was murmuring all around her. Likely wondering why she hasn’t reacted yet. Why she is so slow to act now when Earth’s survival was right at their fingertips.

She checked the files quickly. Two more logs, several PDFs, and what looked like Ryland’s jerry-rigged translation software.

“We will see it through until the end.” She said, firmly. It left no room for argument. She started the next log.

“Helloooo Earth!”

“Hello Erid!”

Ryland was smiling the biggest they’ve even seen him, as he rested his upper body on Rocky’s ball. The ball that had a very much alive Rocky inside. They were in the Mental Health Room with the screens showing fireworks.

Ryland was wearing his mother’s white jumpsuit, and a party hat. The bandage and swelling on his left side were gone, that side still held some nasty looking bruising. Rocky also seemed to be dressed up as the wind chime like jewelry jingled. Ryland must’ve made him that ‘Savior of the Universe’ hat.

“This message is for the success of the Project Hail Mary, and the Eridian Mission! Earth and Erid is going to live!” Ryland was saying as he slid off Rocky’s ball and picked something up. “Meet the Taumoeba 82.5! It is Astercide’s natural predator and specifically bred to live in the atmosphere of the planet we call Venus and the planet Eridians call third planet.”

Rocky seemed to be translating as Ryland spoke.

And finally, finally, Eva Stratt broke. The tears were silent as they rolled down her face, but it felt like her very soul was shrieking with how overwhelmed she was. The noose around her neck loosened, and she could breathe for the first time in decades. It was a terrible thing for this child’s suffering to be worth the Taumoeba, but she couldn’t help but feel pathetically glad he was up there after all. Maybe she was as terrible as everyone said she was.

“For the sake for friendship and future collaboration I gave Rocky one of out Earth thinking machines. It has the entirety of human knowledge on it, with all the science, entertainment, history, and just plain junk on there. This machine is how you’ll be watching this video!”

Normally she would balk at the foolish naivety of giving an alien all the tools needed to destroy them, but she was too happy to care in this moment. Maybe she will tomorrow, but in this moment she believed in Ryland Grace.

‘Hail Mary, full of grace’ was her secret good luck charm for years. A small, weak, human thing she wouldn’t admit to even under torture. She had liked Grace. The Hail Mary was better with her inside it.

And now her son was their saving grace.

Mary did you know what your baby boy will someday save our sons and daughters?

“Erid should be proud in the knowledge Rocky represented his species well. I could not have asked for a smarter, perceptive, resourceful, bossy being to save two worlds with.”

Rocky didn’t translate that. He said a few notes, repeated three times. He dipped his body for a second and Ryland immediately went to his translator device. After it was turned back on, Rocky finally spoke.

“Rocky…” He stopped. She could see what he was thinking. But the Hail Mary never had the space to wish things were different. “Grace good good good human. Deserves all good things on Earth.”

That animals instinct of being watched sent a shiver down her spine.

“Earth will love Grace.” Rocky said, and she felt him staring at her. “Will never be lonely again. Earn many degrees and everyone will want to show Grace all the things Grace never experienced. Will have many things, things that belong to Grace. Will climb tree and fall, and Grace family will be there to kiss injury better.”

She sharply pulled out her tablet and started searching for Grace’s remaining family. They had a lot to be caught up on before Ryland gets home.

He stared at Rocky for a moment, visibly deciding whether it was even worth correcting him about it usually being a thing for smaller children, before letting it go.

It made sense. He viewed having a bedtime as permission to rest, he deserved to have as much fussing as he wants.

“And now we’re going home!” Ryland announced. “And we can’t wait to see all of you!”

The video ends. Whatever Ryland’s and Rocky’s goodbye ended up being, they will never be privy to.

The last log begins

“There’s a leak.” Ryland said breathlessly. He sat on a storage bin, still wearing his duct taped EVA suit. The bags under his eyes showed his exhaustion. “The problem is the xenonite. The Taumoeba can get through it, probably because we bred it in xenonite breeder tanks. It evolved to escape it.”

Stratt felt her heart sink.

“I was able to stop the leak before it ate all the astercide on the ship.”

For a brief moment she felt relief.

“Rocky’s ship is made of xenonite. The Taumoeba will already be in his fuel lines and he won’t be able to find the leak because the leak is the ship itself. He’ll be without any fuel. Stranded. His life support systems will fail. And if that doesn’t kill him the radiation sickness will. He’s looking at a long, slow, painful death. Alone.”

And Stratt already knew what he did before he even said it. They are seeing this, so she already knew what he did. If he was coming home why would he even tell them that Rocky was in danger?

“I can’t do both. I can go home, or I can save Rocky.” Ryland took a deep, shaky breath. “I promise I wanted to see Earth. I wanted to be a human being on the planet Earth. I never met any of you, but I love you very much. I wanted to do and see and experience everything that made Mama and the crew decide it was worth dying for. What I was dying for. I wanted to say hi to the people in the pictures that Mama kept.”

Ryland had wanted to send Grace off with her photos too, but Rocky was able to convince him they were his too. His family, his inheritance.

Just images of people he’d never get to meet or see or touch.

“Rocky is my family now. I have to save him. I have to save his home. I sent detailed logs and papers with all of our findings and enough Taumoeba to start your own Taumoeba farm.”

Ryland sighed.

“Will- will you say hello to Mama’s remaining family for me? That even through I’ve never met them, I love them very much. I hope I did them proud.”

And as the world’s whipping boy she will be the one to tell them won’t she? She will have to be the one to tell a woman who had already lost her daughter that she has another grandchild, but she will never get to hold him.

“T-this is dumb, but…I included some drawings. I always wanted...I always wanted someone to hang them up on a fridge. Can someone do that, please? I know it’s silly-”

Stratt looked behind the laptop to look at the folder that had been sitting there. It was full to the brim with a child’s artwork. This child’s artwork.

Most of the pages were yellowing. There were no crayons on the Hail Mary, so they were all clumsy pictures with black and red pen marks. Some showed space. Others were the medical robot. There was one where Ryland drew his still comatose mother holding him. One of the pilot room. Most were a happier universe where they all woke up and were a happy little family. Commander Yáo punching a scary monster. Second Officer Chaykovsky reading to a Ryland sat on his lap. Ilyukhina frozen in a moment of dance, movement lines all around her. Dr. DuBois and Dr. Shapiro in front of a chalkboard and Ryland in a stereotypical American school desk. Or Dr. DuBois and Dr. Shapiro holding hands.

His mother, awake, holding him. He’s always small enough to be held in these drawings.

“I hope this all makes sense. If not, well you guys are smarter than an 11-year-old with no scientific training. You’ll figure it out.” Ryland sighed. “This is Captain Ryland Grace, son of Second Engineer Marilyn Grace, and last crew member of the Hail Mary signing off. As the Eridians say:”

He rubbed his fisted up hand over his forearm. Unthinkingly, everyone in the room does the same.

Stratt reached over to the military telephone beside her and only said, “Let’s begin.”, before hanging up. She then pulled out another phone before making more calls.

Is this punishment? you wonder. Do others get freed from pain, but not you?

Maybe your sins weighed you down too much. Maybe this was just, all of you that could make it out of Hell? The idea fits, in a depressing sort of way. God forsook you a long time ago. But, here you are, in the light, and even though it's not perfect, it actually isn't so bad either.

The angel is called Grace. He looks like a human, like a humble man from some old story, vids from before the energy was too precious to spare on entertainment. He doesn't walk around with gleaming wings or in a white dress or anything, no, he wears a sweater and glasses and he talks kindly.

Purgatory is called Erid. The other angels don't bother taking on human forms, instead they look kind of like spiders and kind of like rocks. Incomprehensible and surrounded by full-body halos that glitter and gleam wherever the light (so much light) touches them. They sing to speak, and Grace translates for them, setting up a gleaming silver machine so that you can understand the others even when he's not around.

But he's usually around. You don't believe in guardian angels, for a lot of reasons, but it seems like Grace has taken you on. He's doing a better job advocating for you than your old legal representation ever did.

Though, tenderly dressing your wounds is probably not something you could have reasonably expected from your old counsel.

"Hey, you're okay," Grace says. His tone is conversational, easy. He doesn't talk like an avatar of divine judgment, and you are really, really glad for that. He feels normal, human, as he takes your hand and awkwardly encourages you to breathe with him. You didn't even realize you were panicking until the tight, nauseating sensation and the hammering of your heart starts to gradually recede.

You don't remember the last time someone touched you kindly. You didn't notice exactly when it stopped happening, but having it again makes you keenly aware of the long, devastating stretch of its absence.

When you've calmed down, Grace tells you a story.

It's a familiar story and an unfamiliar one, about the stars growing dim, about a desperate mission, a man sent out in a sealed metal vessel to go die on behalf of humanity. You think about God lovingly entombing one of his angels, but the more Grace talks the more you think he might also be a man. Or somewhere between the two concepts. It's hard for you to think, to keep it all clear. Sometimes you drift, and when you do you can hear the chorus of screams, the pleas and demands of the blood.

It's still there. The barrier of light keeps it separate, but the price of standing in the daylight is hearing its whispers, seeing it crash crimson against the shore.

You ask Grace if they sent him to die for them. Grace says that they did. You ask if he volunteered. You did, after all. But you didn't know you were doing that, and you wouldn't have done it if you had.

Grace says no. No, he didn't volunteer. He was dragged aboard and drugged.

The straightforwardness grips you. The rueful way he describes it, as if not being brave enough to face death for humanity is embarrassing. But as the story goes on, it's clear that he did it anyway. Not just for humanity, either, but for the other angels -- Eridians? -- instead. A Quiet Rapture, defeated in its infancy.

You put together a better picture of what's going on. Aliens, not angels? Other people, albeit strange ones, lost in the deep dark of space, losing their light?

And Grace saved it. He found the secret, a way not only to save the stars, but to feed a man lost in the depths of space. To live on a planet that saw far less light than the Earth did.

You revise your opinion. Grace isn't an angel. He's a man, but he's a man who saved his people, even though he nearly didn't. This is his near-heaven that he's pulled you to, the purgatory of a sinner too saintly to exile.

Grace thinks you're both alive. You know better, but you won't spoil it for him. One day he'll pay the last of his dues, helping mankind from afar, and then the gates of Heaven will open full for him, the last little stain on his conscience redeemed a thousand times over. He will hold paradise in his gentle hands. You want that for him, you do.

But you also want him to stay here, with you, in this place that can only glimpse the splendor of redemption from afar.

You've brought your sins along with you. Your darkness, your blood.

"I'm sorry," you say, and can't stop yourself from spilling out your innumerable crimes, the devastating missteps that have cost countless others their lives.

Grace absolves you, ever time.

"We're good, buddy. All's forgiven."

You're just. You're so tired. You just want to rest. Is that really so bad? For you to just stay here, to curl up safe in his arms, to leave the remainder behind? What do you owe to anyone else, really? You already tried, you truly did. Where did it get you? Pain, torment, a brutal end, the ocean of blood that still won't let you go.

But that's the thing. It still won't let you go. It's still here. Sometimes you dream of it, of the ocean expanding, flooding over Erid. Beating back the gleaming barriers until it fill the streets, drowns the angelic Eridians, covers their beautiful dark cities in red and the stench of iron. The little ones cry for help as they are swallowed up.

You did this, the blood screams. Give it all to me!

No!

You wake up sweating and struggling with yourself, panting as you bite back an actual cry of denial. Your body shakes, your breaths heave. You want to shove yourself off of the cot, but the only result of that would be a hard landing on the floor, and enough noise to wake Grace.

You check. The man's a light sleeper. But he's still curled up in the bed not far from yours. He'd offered you the use of his quilt, materials kind of hard to come by here, but you'd declined. Textiles are valuable, you won't rob a man of his blanket. The air in the house is always the right temperature anyway, bleeding into neither the desperate cold of a resource-conservation period, nor the perilous overheating of damaged radiation shields.

It might be nice to curl up with him. You let yourself picture it for a moment, using the fantasy to help calm down. Solid arms around you. Blanket over you both. Grace's lips against your skin.

When your breathing has evened out, you push the notion aside. You don't have anything to offer Grace except for yourself, and a lack of competition aside, that's a poor offer indeed. Especially when you've brought evil to his doorstep.

You give it a few more moments. There's an itch on your shoulder that you can't scratch. A maddening burn, like the blood eating away at you again. You have to go check. With a last glance to make sure that Grace is still asleep, you roll yourself off of the cot, moving carefully and using the bar beside it to get onto the ground. Regular meals and reasonably good sleep have helped recover some of your strength. In fact, you think this one arm you've got might be stronger than it's ever been.

Once you're on the floor, you use some of the ropes that Grace's Eridian companion, Rocky, helped set up around the house, and pull yourself a few feet to where the exo-arm is. Xenonite, the substance of angels. Grace had hurriedly tried to clarify something about it being a gas, but you're not sure you grasped the particulars there very well. It's not a normal substance, but you could already tell that.

The exo-arm is lightweight, and its mechanisms are simple. It fits over your stump, smooth and offering relatively little pressure. Even so, your flesh aches to have anything pushed up against it. You feel some of the ever-present disorientation over your lost limbs ease up at the same time, your mind accepting that you once again have two 'arms' now, even if one of them is a holy metal claw.

With the exo-arm on you're able to move yourself more easily out of the house. You don't bother with the full suit or the chair. They're noisy, and you don't really need that much right now anyway. You don't want to answer Grace's worried questions.

Outside is dark. Days pass quickly here, like a station running on some experimental cycle. But even the dark has a quality to it that's different than the one you're used to. It isn't the oppressive, all-consuming bleakness. Grace says that there are lifeforms in the upper atmosphere of Erid, a blanket of nature that blocks out the sunlight, like the almost-forgotten canopy of trees that once grew in such abundance, they could shield the world below.

But the Eridians keep a patch of sunlight clear over this place, for Grace's sake. At night, you can look up and see the stars.

You can't do it without seeing the blood as well, though. The barrier that keeps it separate does very little to quiet the way it can call to you. Come back, come back to us. You're ours. We're so lonely without you.

The worst of it isn't that it's threatening, but that it isn't. Not always. It's right, that's the worst of it. You don't really belong here, in this peace. No matter how conditional it might be. This is a better life than the one you left, a better hope of survival than you've had since Filament Station. Maybe even before that.

It's a reprieve. A period of Grace.

But the Hell of it all is still out there. This won't last, and if you try and hold onto it, you're afraid you'll destroy it. You'll destroy this, and in the meanwhile everyone you ever knew will still be lost in the dark, dying slow, agonizing deaths.

Grace thinks he can help them. That he can them food, energy, a means of fighting back and surviving, maybe even figure out a way to move the stations out of dark space. Maybe there's something to all of that. That old idea, the one nobody on places like Eden even glanced twice at, that they weren't the survivors but the condemned, and the only hope lay in finding a way out of the universe... isn't that what you once risked everything for?

Only for Filament Station to end up destroyed. The darkness inescapable after all.

Can you take a leap of faith again?

Oh, that... that stings. The thought of it. You shake, even though the air's not cold. The exo-arm grasps around sand, and you run your hand down your face, swiping tear tracks down your cheeks. The waves rustle like leaves, whispering.

You don't think Grace has the right of it, not completely. He's a scientist, and he thinks there's a scientific solution. That's why he can't find the way to where you've come from, can't understand how he brought you here. It's not physics, or at least not completely. It's God, and too many devils, and the souls of the damned and lost and deified.

You know the way back. What the universe is waiting for.

So, a moment of pity for the lost soul. You don't want to be the hero, no more than you ever wanted to be the villain. At least villainy seemed like a mask you could wear, or maybe just like one you couldn't escape, near enough to your skin to fuse with the flesh and become tolerable through proximity. Maybe heroism is the same way. That seems to be how Grace treats it, like a skin he was shoved into and made his own anyway.

Tears flow. Why you? Why does it have to be you? At least if it has to be, why do you have to choose it?

You know why. You rage against it anyway, despair clutching you, the stars benevolent but distant as you give yourself this last reprieve, to be human and flawed and frightened.

The next day, you ask Grace to take you to the blood again. You grant yourself another mercy, briefly, letting your hand move to grasp the back of his neck. You draw him in and press your forehead to his, soak in the touch and warmth and connection.

You almost beg him to find you again.

But you won't leave him with that burden, just in case he fails. You won't say anything, because it's better to leave some things unspoken, especially when they haven't really settled yet. You'll just take this one last moment of connection, and hold it close when the vast anger of a less forgiving god tries to consume you, like a candle in the storm.

Well you'll take that and the exosuit, too.

You walk back to the blood.

You don't hesitate, because you can't. If you do, you're done for. You've gotta keep it simple, avoid of the folly of Orpheus, and do not turn.

Going back to Hell is easier than getting out of it. There's probably something poetic in that. I'll come back, you think. I will. The red tide rises and swallows you, dark and deep, unspeakably heavy. The whispers mingle with your thoughts until they become a roar in your mind, nearly indistinguishable from your own rising panic, from the terrible familiarity of it all.

For a long time, you drift. The exosuit holds up, but the pressure remains immense, and the screaming, sobbing, furious commands and desperate pleading do not relent. At some point you think you hear someone knocking, hammering as if on the metal side of a sub, you hear Grace's voice calling and begging for help and oh, that's low.

"Simon, please. Just come out of there. Come out and you can be with me, I want to help you buddy but I can't quite reach..."

You scream back. You struggle, kick the suit's legs, flail and fight until all the cries and pleas merge into the same dull roar, until you grasp something with your hand. A long, black, iron trunk that seems to reach upwards and downwards in every direction. Not that you can completely which is which. Even so, you pick your best guess and start to climb.

You're not sure if it matters that much in the long run, but eventually you grab hold of something else. A metal hook of some kind. They fish you out, some group or other. The hook connects to a chain that connects to an outpost, rusted metal flooring already stained with copious amounts of blood, figures in whatever battered PPE they could salvage hanging back and watching warily as you swipe the blood off of the suit.

Dull, minimal electric lighting flickers. Haggard and unfamiliar faces stare at you. You look around. This isn't the station that launched the Iron Lung, you're pretty sure that one got destroyed. If it wasn't just an illusion, anyway.

Someone decides to aim a gun at you.

You raise your hands.

"Whoa, whoa. Easy," you say.

"What the fuck are you?" they reply, though there's already a communication channel crackling to life, someone with a stern and authoritative voice telling them to stand down.

You know how this must look.

Well... actually no, you have no idea how this must look. Weird as shit at least. You glance down at yourself. The suit is mostly holy metal. It's thick and darkly opaque over the legs, but transparent at the top, not doing much to disguise your missing arm or your scars. Sweat drips down to your chin, itches over the ruined cheek you're self-aware of.

"Uh. Hi," you say. "I've got some news."

Nobody looks terribly reassured, but nobody looks like they're keen to pick a fight either. Eventually you're escorted with varying degrees of hostility to a sealed room, with an observation window taking up much of a nearby wall. It looks like a lab. Apparently, nobody wants to sit down at a table with you.

You shrug, consider your options, and then resettle yourself inside the suit. You press the button to retract the top half. The air tastes of iron and of filters that haven't been cleaned in too long. Nostalgic, but not really missed. You take the opportunity to stretch, to itch your brow, rub at your eyes and knead some aching muscles. Somehow, for the first time, it occurs to you that you... might actually not be dead?

You don't know what to do with the thought, so you put it away.

When a light comes on in the other room, you put the top of the suit back up. Just in case.

Three people shuffle into the observation room. Once upon a time, they would have looked pretty put-together and authoritative to you. Maybe even dangerously so. Now, they mostly look like they've gone too long with too little of everything: too little light, food, water. Hope.

"Your resemblance to the convict pilot from the SM-13 has been noted," one of them states. "What are you?"

They're trying to sound like they have some idea of what's going on. They don't, of course, but it's interesting to recognize it and to wonder how many times this kind of seemingly cool, collected, knowledgeable front has worked on you in the past. Surely someone out here knows what they're doing, right?

They don't. You get it now. You know more than them, and you are also still just stumbling through the layers of this, looking for the barest slivers of salvation.

But there's only one thing you can do at this point, and that's give them what you have. So you do. You launch into it, describing everything: the mission, what happened to you, as best as you can still understand it. Then your rescue, Erid, meeting Grace, the stars that are still out there somewhere in a place that might still be reached. The people who are still out there, trying to reach them.

Stone faces meet your story. It shouldn't be frustrating, it shouldn't be distressing. It's exactly what you'd guessed would happen. But oh, you'd almost forgotten how much you hate it, the blank faces, the assessing eyes and the remote, dehumanizing distance of it all. The way they don't even tell you what they're doing when they file back out to go discuss all your claims, to decide what they're going to try and do with you now.

They come back, eventually. They want to know if you have proof. You admit you don't. You thought about trying to bring something with you, but in the end you couldn't trust that the blood wouldn't change it. Even the suit was a gamble. You anticipated skepticism, even hostility, and even though you don't like it, you hold cards that nobody else here does. And you know one thing very well:

They need this.

They need a miracle more than you need their cooperation.

So, you just leave it be. You do what you imagine an honest man would and tell them the truth, hold up this small, flickering, improbable candle for them to see. They try and demand you relinquish the suit to them, and you laugh and tell them no. There's more furious debate, someone puts a gun on your again, and you tell them that they'll just cause a ricochet. They don't know enough to try testing it. Neither do you, actually.

Okay so maybe that's one lie you've told. It could be true, so it's really more of a warning and a bluff rolled into one.

Three weeks into it, after enduring the most begrudging rations, one-sided interrogations, and getting sick to death of sweating in the exosuit, the sky above the outpost warps and distorts, and a hundred xenonite canisters raid down.