LolliPencil

Shining in the Cold (continued)

Part 14, Part 15, Epilogue

Us Spawn of The Lords in Black (continued)

Part 21

Werewolves of Witchwood (continued)

Paul breathed as he continued to watch the ship. Why wasn't it doing anything? Clearly, it was interested in him. It came over after all. Probably saw the Hail Mary enter orbit.

A thought drifted into Paul's head: An unknown object, constructed rather than natural, is propelled into the star's orbit and stops. A tiny piece could maybe be seen moving, but otherwise nothing. If Paul had saw such a thing and it was much smaller than his ship, he'd assume it was a probe.

The other ship was waiting for a sign of life.

Slowly, Paul inched his way back into the pilot's seat. His eyes remained on the window as he clipped the restraints back on. Fingers curling comfortably around the control stick, Paul took a deep breath and pressed the throttle.

One. Two. Three.

The other ship was quick to copy. "Ok, ok, ok, ok," Paul tried to soothe himself. They were now both on the same page. Now it was his turn to wait.

Just as it was quick to copy, the other ship was quick to respond. Something began shifting along the hull, but before Paul could do anything- "Blip-B detected," the computer stated. A dot had appeared on the radar, visible from the window once Paul looked back out. The cylinder that had been thrown by a five armed robot turned end over end on its way towards him.

Panic gripped Paul tight. "Computer," he wheezed past his swelling fear, "How long until the Blip-B arrives?" "Twenty-five minutes."

Rather slow for a possible bomb. Just the right speed for a message. "If I did decide to catch it, how would I do it?" Paul asked, desperately hoping for something better than what he was thinking. "Would you like to go for a space walk, Mr Matthews?" He didn't. He really, really didn't want to. But what other choice did he have?

Oddly enough, even with the complication of zero gravity, it didn't take Paul that long to climb into an EVA suit. Muscle memory kicked in as soon as the undersuit was on. Unfortunately, this meant that he was standing in the airlock sooner than he would have liked. Turns out the only thing worse than knowing only metal and glass is holding you back from being sucked out into space, was standing in front of a door leading to that same yawning void and needing to open it.

Paul checked his tether for the third time and opened the airlock.

He looked away as soon as he could, attaching to the first tether point. Almost the entirety of Paul's focus was on the Hail Mary's hull, with fleeting glances towards the cylinder to check its progress. By the time he made it to the estimated impact site, the cylinder was still outside of reach.

Anxiety beat in his chest like a drum, but Paul flipped around to face the Blip-A regardless. It took extreme effort to not look down. Or in any other direction than at the cylinder. Minutes ticked by as it grew closer and closer, until finally, Paul could catch it.

Holding it tightly, he climbed his way back rapidly, only turning back once in the airlock. The hull robot had tracked his progress and was now sitting directly opposite him. Paul couldn't see any cameras, but he could feel whoever was at the controls staring. He stared back, slowly raised his arm, and waved.

The robot was still for a moment. Then an arm jutted out, and it waved back. Withdrawing into the airlock, Paul pulled the door closed, never breaking eye contact. As soon as the door shut, the robot sped off out of sight.

Five minutes later, Paul floated in the lab, looking out at a sea of complex devices. And it all finally hit.

He was really doing it. He was really, actively making first contact with an alien race. And he had absolutely no idea how to use any of the equipment he was looking at. Could any of it even work in zero gravity?

So, Paul tried something new. He closed his eyes, and he thought really, really hard: "How do I use the lab in zero gravity?"

---

True to Stratt's word, Paul had woken up the next morning with a duffle bag at his feet and a sticky note on his forehead. One meeting and a couple days waiting for blood test results later, he was offically handed the role of "General Assistant." What did this mean? Basically, anything Stratt thought it should mean.

Lab assistant, coffee boy, note taker, anytime she thought Paul's hands could be useful to someone, she'd send him over there. And most prominently on that list was "test dummy."

Paul sat in the training simulator waiting for the next phase. They had apparently updated the layout and wanted to make sure that nothing was going to short circuit randomly. "Ok," the instructor spoke over the radio, "Now, pull the centrifuge lever." "Alright," Paul flipped the two switches holding it in place and pulled it down. "I'm not seeing any surges or irregularities, think that's it for today."

Sitting back in the chair as the simulator powered down, one question popped into Paul's head: "Why would the lab's centrifuges be rigged up to the cockpit?" "Oh, they aren't," the instructor replied conversationally, "Well... I guess they kinda are. Apparently, it's cheaper, easier, and more time efficient to convert the Hail Mary into a giant centrifuge, then to design and test zero-g versions of the lab equipment."

That... seemed to make sense. Either way, it wasn't his problem.

---

The switch in hindsight was obvious. Namely because it was the only thing shaped like it on the entire control panel. Pulling it had an instant effect. The Hail Mary unfurled just as designed, and began to spin.

Within moments, the familiar and very much missed pull of gravity kicked in. "Lab operational," the computer declared once Paul's feet were firmly on the ground. One problem solved, now for the rest.

Rummaging throught the drawers yielded a pair of tongs, goggles, gloves, and some sort of scanner that could identify elements. Goggles and gloves on, Paul aimed the scanner at the cylinder. "Xenon?" He read off the screen in confusion. Now, he was no scientist, but he was pretty sure that xenon's whole thing was that it didn't react with stuff. And yet, no matter what angle Paul redid the test, xenon. Everytime. "Right then. Ok. Metal's made of xenon. Sure."

Given the visible seam wrapping around both ends, whatever the Blip-A's occupants wanted him to see was inside. Shaking it gave no hint of its contents. In fact, knocking on it gave nothing but a dull thud.

Paul transferred the cylinder to the fume hood, closed the lid, and slipped his hands into the gloves. Better safe than sorry.

"Lefty loosey, righty tighty," he muttered softly to himself as he picked it up. The thing refused to budge. Paul heaved, huffing and puffing, until condensation trickled down the inside of his goggles. Not a millimeter of progress.

Tearing the goggles off his face, Paul felt along the surface of the cylinder, searching for a button or catch, or something like that. The ridged surface remained consistent. Paul pulled his arms out with a sigh.

What on Earth was he meant to open it?

...He wasn't on Earth. "Lefty loosey, righty tighty" is how twist tops are handled on Earth. But, why would aliens do the same?

Returning to the fume hood, Paul first tried pressing the ends in. Then turned one end to the right. It popped open near instantly. Inside was a sculpture made of the same metal, two orbs connected to each other. The other side held another sculpture made of thin rods, one that suddenly spiked out as soon as the ends left the container.

Paul yelped and jumped back into the lab table. There wasn't any sign of damage, not even a scratch. Rubbing his hip, Paul peered back into the fume hood.

The second sculpture's base had become a dome, displaying each rod prominently. All of the rods were identical except for two: the one in the centre and another to the side. Those ones were topped with a clear gem or diamond.

Opening the hood, Paul picked up both and carried them to the lab table. A quick scan showed they were both made of the same xenon metal. Even the "gems".

"Ok, ok, what are you trying to tell me?" Paul whispered. Both sculptures sat there. He picked up the first one and began turning it around in his hands. There was just something so familiar about the shape. It hovered just outside of his awareness, taunting him with each rotation.

Then the curved line curled up and over. Into something Paul had seen an hour prior.

It was a petrova line linking a star and a planet. And upon closer inspection, the wire model had a tiny one, the same thickness as a human hair, on the off-centre gem tipped rod.

One by one, the pieces clicked together in Paul's head. The aliens also had a petrova line. The clear tips were stars, two specific stars. It was a map, a statement, and a question all rolled into one: "This is our star. This is Tau Ceti, where we are. Where is your star?"

To answer that, Paul first needed to work out where Sol was on the star map. Thankfully, the screens in the lab had so, so many star maps preloaded. It only took about five minutes to get the two maps to line up. 40 Eridani is where the Blip-A was from, and Sol was all the way on the other side of Tau Ceti.

Holding his own, Paul took in the various patches. From the golden wings above his name to the mission patch ringed by the flags from every country on Earth. His next breath shuddered slightly as it left his lungs. Then he got dressed.

Dressing them both was difficult, his skin rejecting the sensation of cold, dry skin. But using the robot to do it felt outright wrong. So Paul grit his teeth, and got to work.

Carefully wrapping them in the bed sheets, Paul carried them up. Until they all sat outside the airlock. Flipping through the pictures in his hands, Paul cleared his throat. "Ilyukhina, first off, I am sorry about the vodka. And everything else... um," Paul shuffled her photos, "You seemed a very adventurous person, considering you apparently broke into the Kremlin." Paul turned the aforementioned image towards her with a frail smile that quickly crumbled under the weight of the stillness. "Ahh..."

Paul was lost for words. "Dr Dubois," he tried to power through, "You were... very loved. You both were. And... I'm not doing this right. I don't know how to do this. I've never... You both deserve better than this. But, I promise I'll do my best to- I'll do my best."

Eyes misty and breaths shaky, Paul gently tucked their photos into their clasped hands. And in the crook of Ilyukhina's arm, he placed the teddy bear he'd found in her box. Then he picked her up, shroud and all, and carried her into the airlock. Dr Dubois soon followed her.

With the airlock resealed, Paul made his way down to the lab window, watching as the bodies of his late crewmates faded into the endless starfield. And then, he was truely alone.

---

The next day, Paul sat in the screen room in silence. Around him was the moonlit trees of the Witchwood. He'd found it on day two, alongside a sound/videoscape of downtown Hatchetfield. Just the brief glimpse he got sent Paul spiraling straight to one of the vodka bags.

But Witchwood felt safe. Close to home, but without the intensity.

Leaves rustled underneath the constant chirping of crickets, broken by the occasional bird call or twig snapping under an unseen foot. Paul's feet laid carefully on the lower screens, appearing to be resting on the firm earth shown. His eyes slid closed. The sounds wrapped around him. He could almost feel the wind in his hair, the slight chill nipping at his exposed skin, the various scents of the forest. After a minute, Paul opened his eyes.

The screens were gone.

All around him, the trees towered over him. A gust of wind blew past, making Paul shiver and hold his jumpsuit further closed. The full moon overhead cast a spotlight down on him.

What was going on? Was he starting to lose it? It felt real, but that didn't make any sence. A white light shone from Paul's right with enough suddeness to startle him into turning.

Something stood there. Glowing bright enough to hide any possible features from view. Only the rounded spiderlike body could be seen past that bright light. It shuffled on its uneven limbs. Music unlike any Paul had ever heard before began from somewhere, errie yet calming.

An alarm sounded.

He was back in the screen room, a message displayed in red on every screen: "Engine cut off imminent." Scrambling up the ladder into the cockpit, Paul stumbled to a chair. "Pilot detected," the computer chimed automatically, "Engine cut off in ten, nine, eight-" "Ok, ok, ok," Paul muttered, ignoring the countdown in favor of clicking the chair restraints into place. "-three, two, one."

The faint hum stopped. For a second, everything was still. Then came the feeling of falling. Paul knew he wasn't falling. He could feel himself floating up into the straps holding him to the chair. But his body was unconvinced.

"You are now orbiting Tau Ceti," the computer stated. Paul groaned wordlessly, clutching his rebelling stomach. "Don't puke, don't puke, don't puke, you'll regret it if you puke," his brain chanted desperately. "Petrovascope operational."

Paul turned to the device sitting to his right, waiting to be used. And, once his stomach relaxed, released the restraints. It took a fair bit of bobbing and awkward positioning, but Paul managed to lay down under the petrovascope.

Tau Ceti was a penny sized spot of light on the screen. Paul found a button near the base of the hand holds, clicking it switched the view from normal to infrared. The vibrant red line glowed like hot coals. Tau Ceti was infected, it just wasn't dimming. Slowly, Paul began to turn the petrovascope, following the line as it arced towards a planet. Only to stop suddenly.

There was a break in the line. A large gap, astrophage visible on both sides. Then a flash of light, highlighting a strange shape within. "What?" Paul asked softly. He clicked the view back to normal. A spot of bronze was visible, the same shape. Although, it looked... bigger? "Blip-A detected."

It took a second for the declaration to sink in. Paul pulled himself out and looked up at the screens. There was indeed a blip on the radar, a very large blip. One several times bigger than the Hail Mary.

Patterns of light and shadow rippled over the cockpit. Then, just like that, Paul realised what is making it.

The breath caught in his chest. His head turned almost by itself to the window on his left. Bronze filled the glass. Trembling arms pulled him closer until he was right up against the window.

It really was another ship. All flat panels and thin rods. The other ship slowed until it parked right next to him. Deliberately.

The bunks had been tucked away when he arrived. Hovering at eye level, the robot arm held a bag of water and the electric razor. As soon as Paul stood on the padded floor, the arm offered the water. He accepted it.

Thankfully, the arm let him take the razor and shave himself. His hair ended up rough but it was close to the haircut he remembered. It helped. Not much, but somewhat.

Not daring to look at the other bunks, Paul climbed to the soft boxes and pulled some free. Specifically the boxes marked with names. Paul opened his own one first. A high school hoodie, a red and white jumper, and some other general clothes filled the box. At the bottom, was a single photograph.

Himself, wearing a suit and looking up at the camera. Standing in some hanger of sorts, clearly startled.

None of his personal effects brought up anymore memories. Not even the photo. So, reluctantly, Paul went to the other boxes. Dr Dubois's held a whole album of photos as did Ilyukhina's. Flipping through them drew up flickers of them alive, laughing at a joke or doing some minor experiments.

The silence seemed to grow thicker with each fragment that returned.

Why was he there? Why were any of them there? Why was he the only one to wake up? How the hell do you plan a funeral for someone you can barely recall knowing?

That last question in particular haunted Paul for the following week. Days were hard to keep track of, only the meal tubes actually gave him any actual indication. Between those, he mostly just wandered the ship, reading the few information folders he could find. With nothing but the soft hum of machinery for company.

Piece by piece, Paul recovered some facts about himself. Nothing big, just little things. He had lived in a small island town called Hatchetfield all his life, the office he'd remembered belonged to CCRP's technical department, everyday he walked five blocks and endured truely horrific coffee just to see one of the baristas, and he didn't like musicals. That last fact returned thanks to Ilyukhina's Cats t-shirt.

It was on day nine that things finally changed. Paul's meal tubes were mainly solid at this point, a fact that was surprisingly uplifting. His now daily lap around the ship had more energy than previously. And with that energy, he noticed the plates.

Arranged tastefully along a wall Paul must have walked past at least ten times, the gold plates stood proudly. Engraved on their surface were star charts and various depictions of humanity and its creations. One in particular drew Paul's eye.

He'd seen it before.

---

At the end of the day, Paul had left CCRP as he normally did. "See you tomorrow, Bill," Paul waved to him as Bill unlocked his car. Nothing out of the blue occurred during the walk back home. Yet Paul felt... off.

He ignored it. But the feeling grew the closer he got. And, as he climbed the staircase to his door, he discovered why.

There were two men by his front door. Bulky, in fitted black suits, standing near perfectly still. Their heads turned to him. And Paul sensed another man move into the stairwell behind him. "Paul Matthews?" One of the man asked smoothly. "I- Yes?" Paul stammered slightly. "You need to come with us. Please don't make this difficult." Unable to trust his voice, Paul nodded.

The men escourted him back downstairs and into a black van. It drove off before the men finished fastening their seatbelts. They didn't drive for too long and, mercifully, the door opened to Hatchetfield Airport rather than Clivesdale.

There was a fighter jet sitting on the tarmac. Between the men marching him straight at it and the flight vest handed to him, it was clear what they wanted Paul to do. The flight was... rough, to put it mildly. Touchdown came as a relief. It didn't last long.

Next, they put him in a helicopter. Then another fighter jet. And then, he had finally arrived at a military aircraft carrier.

A second pair of silent men guided a wobbly Paul down metal corridors and into a conference room. A long table was the only true piece of furniture. Chairs sat on either side, and a projector near the front.

One chair was already pulled out, a notepad and pencil set pointedly on the table. Paul sat down. And the men waited by the door.

Less than one minute later, the door opened again.

A woman stepped through. The very definition of calm, clothes loose and comfortable. But Paul wouldn't dare call her laidback. She stood with the same posture as the parade of military Paul had just been subjected to, eyes regarding him almost casually. This was a woman completely at ease in a military base, enough to wear clothes for comfort instead of appearence. Someone who belonged there.

Paul's heart thundered against his breastbone. "Hello, Mr Matthews," she said. "Hello..." "I am Eva Stratt, head of the Petrova Taskforce. Are you aware of why you've been brought here?"

Paul scoured his brain with a fine tooth comb for anything that could have led to this. And it sank in. "...The email?" He offered hesitantly. "You are correct. At approximately three-thirty, a hacker managed to breach our network and acquired a top secret document. And sent it to you."

Paul's heart dropped like, well, how his body likely will be into the sea real soon.

"We are aware that you have had no correspondence with the individual before this incident. And rest assured, whoever 'ten0i-KAx3s' truely is, they shall be dealt with separately from you. However, this still leaves us with a problem. You opened the document, Mr Matthews." "I didn't see much," Paul pleaded frantically, "Just the title and something about astrophage, and the Beatles, but nothing else!" Stratt looked at him for a moment. Then she hummed and reached into her pocket.

"Oh god," Paul thought, "This is it. I'm about to get two in the head and one in the heart." "Isn't it one in the head, two in the heart?" His brain questioned. "Not helping!" Paul mentally snapped back.

Stratt's hand withdrew. Holding a remote. The lights dimmed, she clicked a button, and the slideshow appeared on the wall behind her. "In that case, let's go through it now. Do be aware I won't being doing this twice." She waited patiently for Paul's breathing to slow and for his trembling fingers to steady and pick up the pencil before clicking to the first page.

The next few minutes were the strangest Paul had ever experienced. Taking notes about a secret government project to make more of the sun eating bacteria to use as fuel for humanity's first interstellar spaceship to study the only star seemingly not infected by the same bacteria was utterly surreal. But, as unbelieveable as it should have been, Paul knew that this all was very real.

The sun really was dying. And this might be the only chance to stop it.

One tiny detail stuck out to him. "So, what happens to the astronauts?" Paul asked "They'll send their findings back on probes," Stratt tapped at the Beatle diagram, "There won't be enough fuel for a round trip, so they will be given solutions for after." "...You mean, dying?" "Yes," Stratt confirmed, just as firmly as before but notably quieter. Paul nodded and absorbed this silently. "We've narrowed down the crew down to the minimum number required: a pilot, an engineer, and a scientist," Stratt elaborated. "Ok." Paul breathed in deep, staring at his notes.

"So," he cleared his throat and tried to muffle the swirling in his mind, "What happens now?" "Now you are a part of the Project. The exact details of your position will be discussed later," Stratt stated as she turned the projector off, "When you're ready, these men will take you to the canteen and guide you to a bunk. Your belongings will be with you when you wake up. Good night, Mr Matthews." And she left.

---

Oh. He'd known.

The page of bullet points lingered on his eyelids, overlaying the depiction of the Hail Mary in front of him. Paul breathed in and out carefully. Of cource, he'd known. Why else would he be there?

Swallowing, Paul turned to look down the walkway leading to the dormitory. He couldn't put it off any longer.

The open room turned out to be a moderately sized, very well stocked lab. Each inch either occupied or close to various machines who's purpose and price tag made Paul's head hurt thinking about. As did the perspective.

Everything was sideways. Of cource, he'd kinda noticed something similar in the corridors, but glancing up at a table and chair bolted in place horizontally was a very different feeling. Paul carried on and climbed yet another ladder at the end.

This ladder led into a small round room, and continued into a hole above. Carefully, Paul balanced on the edge encircling the ladder. One at a time, the screens covering every inch of the room lit up. Sunlight peered past vibrant leaves as birds tweeted through unseen speakers. Paul stood for a moment before continuing up.

The space above was narrow and irregular. Clearly not made to be walked on. Slowly making his way though, Paul spotted a bag suspended from the ceiling and pulled the zipper. Clothes tumbled out onto the floor. Not many, just a few shirts, but still better than the plastic/rubber onesie. Pulling one over his head, Paul finally found the cockpit.

It was empty. Of people, at least. A short ladder climbed into the screen-lined cylinder, two chairs sat either side of it, with a window next to the left hand one. "Ok, ok," Paul breathed as he took everything in. "Please record video diary," the same voice from before prompted, a screen tucked into a small cavity showing Paul bearded, baffled, and not in the mood to deal with it. "No."

Without even looking back to see if the recording had stopped, he heaved himself up to the cockpit proper and into a chair. "Pilot detected," the voice stated, every single screen and button suddenly igniting with colour and information. Paul jumped but remained seated.

Ok, the voice was a computer. Not ideal, but it would still have answers. He just needed the right questions. "Computer, read full crew, uh, manifest?" "Paul Matthews, pilot. Status: awake. Olesya Ilyukhina, engineer. Status: deceased. Dr Martin Dubois, science officer. Status: deceased. End of manifest," the computer recited evenly.

Well, that explained why the view from the chair felt vaguely familiar. Although, it didn't fit with the office break room he remembered. Had he changed careers before all this?

The confirmation of his bunkmates' fates wasn't a shock, but still rippled through Paul unpleasantly. He had known them. Enough for the announcement of death to sting. "Computer, contact Earth." "Current transmission time to Earth is eleven years, ten months, fourteen days, and six hours."

What. What?! "Excuse me?" Paul whimpered. "Current transmission time to Earth is- " "Computer, stop!"

That can't be right. It just can't. He needed a map, or some other point of reference. Scanning the array in front of him, Paul soon found exactly what he needed. "There's the Sun, ok," Paul smiled at the sight of it, "and we're... here." The tiny dot of the ship was gradually making its way along the marked trail, turning the white a bright red. Hope in his heart, Paul began to scroll back along the flight path.

And kept going. And going. And going.

Each roll of the track ball made Paul's heart grow heavier and his breath quicken. On and on for about two minutes, until he finally reached the starting point. Marked in bold white letters: "Sol".

Silence echoed around the cockpit. "Computer?" Paul asked softly, "What's the percentage of fuel left?" "There is approximately nineteen percent of total astrophage remaining."

---

A common trait of small towns is the speed of which news spreads. And between Hatchetfield's thriving tourist population and the town's density, any news takes very little time at all to be heard by everyone. And the only thing faster than news were rumors.

Paul didn't partake in either. The whole "moving black dots on the Sun" thing freaked him out enough as it is. But, between everyone else, he unwillingly learned more.

In the street, in the break room, at his desk. Even at Beanie's. "Did you hear the word? They've named those dots Astrophage." "Astrophage? They're actually eating the Sun?" "Yeah, they say that in thirty years, the crops will die out, and half the planet will starve." "God, would it even stop there?" "Probably not."

No matter how hard he tried, Paul was constantly bombarded by it. And even when it wasn't spoken, the awareness of it hung thick in the air.

Everybody was tense. Bill would be found in the break room, frantically negotiating with his ex-wife for more time with Alice. Charlotte started smelling of cigarette smoke more and more. Even Ted seemed more... subdued.

Paul walked back into the office one Monday, set a caramel frappe on Bill's desk, and sat with a sigh. He took a sip of his black coffee and logged back in. The next few hours were unremarkable, until the email.

At this point, Paul was on autopilot. So when another email suddenly appeared in his Outlook, he clicked on it without a second thought. "Could you give this a quick read through?" was all it said. Paul clicked on the Powerpoint attached. It opened off to the side of the email, allowing Paul to quickly scroll though the presentation. Until his eyes spotted that word.

Astrophage.

Paul blinked. The slide in front of him wasn't of what he'd expected. It was a diagram showing off a machine that had been dubbed a 'beatle'. Idly, Paul's eyes scrolled back up to the introductory page. "What is Project Hail Mary?" He read. Paul's gut clenched. He wasn't sure what he was reading, but he got the feeling he really shouldn't be reading it. Why did he have it?

He looked at the email closer. "Need an opinion" it said in the header. And the sender was "ten0i-KAx3s@B&W.com".

Panic surged through him. As quick he could, Paul deleted the email, purged his bin, and started an anti-virus scan. "Why did I do that?" Paul silently lamented as he watched the progress bar. He was usually better than that.

The scan passed with nothing detected, and Paul gave a deep sigh of relief. Good thing he'd opened it in the browser. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he realised something.

Compared to the previous excitement, each footfall was slow and soft. Eyes absorbing the corridor beyond like it was a grand feast. "Just you wait, this will blow your mind," Grace thought as they strolled into the Don't Go Crazy room.

The screens flicker to life eagerly. Trees surrounded them, with vibrant green leaves catching the sunlight. Birdsong piped through the speakers.

A long coo filled the air. "Yeah. It's a heck of a sight, isn't it?" Grace said, his own eyes gazing over the video with a twinge of mild longing. Then, from the edge of his peripheral vision, he saw an impossibility.

The little guy had started floating.

If it wasn't for his own feet remaining firmly on the catwalk, Grace would have thought the Hail Mary had stopped moving. But, no. Levitation apparently was a thing now. Good to know.

"These are trees," Grace waved towards the screens, but kept watching them in case they fell. "Trees." "Birch, I think. Earth has a lot of different types." And he'd never see any of them again.

Grace nipped that thought in the bud as quick as he could. If the new guy heard it, they gave no indication. "Earth?" They asked, turning back to Grace. "Yeah. My home. Mary, could you show an image of Earth from space?" "Of course, Dr Grace." Mary's calm voice emanated from the speakers all around, and the screen changed.

On the screens in front of them both, was Earth. The rest were just empty starfields. It was an old picture, but Grace's eyes ate it up just as ravenously as the new guy's did. "Earth... My home?" "No. It's, uh, a bit more complicated."

Now Grace had their full attention. Well, he'd been planning on waiting to explain this, but here goes. "Mary, please display external footage of Adrian in orbit." Green filled the screens. For a moment, he expected to hear alarms going off, but all was calm. "This is Adrian, formally Tau Ceti e. Rocky wanted to call it "Medium-Rough Texture Circle Planet", but we compromised on naming it after their mate instead. We took samples of microbial life both from the planet's orbit, and from the atmosphere itself. You came from the orbit sample."

The new guy paused for a while. "Why?" Their head tilted. Grace paused. That was a really loaded question. "Why did we collect the samples, or why did you come from them?" "Yes."

Nodding, Grace sat down on the floor grate and was soon joined by the new guy. "Back on Earth, it was found that a microbe had infected Sol, the star we orbit. We called it Astrophage. It fed on the light Sol emitted, causing it to gradually but progressively get dimmer. This main 'symptom' was accompanied by something we call the Petrova line. Sol was not the only star affected by Astrophage. Several stars are actively infected and dimming by it, including Rocky's star, 40 Eridani. But Tau Ceti appeared to be the exception."

Grace took a breath: "Earth and Erid both sent missions to find out why Tau Ceti wasn't dimming. That's how Rocky and I met. Turns out, Adrian is home to something that eats Astrophage. The full story is long and complicated, but I've sent the Taumoeba back to Earth, and am currently taking it and Rocky back to Erid. As for why you formed, I was running some tests on the other life we found there. And one cell reacted differently. That's all we know so far."

A thoughtful silence settled. Soft humming vibrated through the air. "Come on," Grace stood up, "Let's continue the tour."

The rest of the tour took very little time at all. "And that's everything," Grace stated as they all sat in the dormitory, "any questions?" "Grace give new life name, question?" Rocky piped up. Oh, that's what he'd forgotten. "Umm..." "Grace." "I was about to?"

Rocky radiated scepticism. "Name... for me, question?" It was almost shocking how quickly the little guy was picking up language. Then again, considering the method of communication, maybe it should have been expected. "Yes yes yes. Eridian name and human name," Rocky confirmed enthusiastically, "Rocky already have new life name. Waiting for Grace."

No pressure or anything.

A blank whiteboard sat nearby. "Let me find a pen, hold on," Grace looked about before Armando swung over with one on hand, "Thank you, Armando. Okay." Time to flex those mental muscles.

His eyes flickered over the green crystal in their chest. "Emerald can be a name, right?" Grace considered mentally, before shrugging and adding it to the board. And promptly ran out of ideas. "Grace finished, question?" Rocky asked after a minute passed without writing. "I... Yeah." "Good good good. What Grace choose, question?" "...Emerald."

Rocky pondered: "What new life think, question?" "I like!" They chirped. "Happy happy happy!" Rocky cheered before giving their version of their name.

Adding it to the translator, Grace noticed Emerald blink slowly then startle. "You okay, buddy?" He asked. "Don't know. Eyes want to close," Emerald said, clearly confused and even a little frightened. "Ah, you're probably just tired," Grace reassured them, "You've had a long day." "Emerald need sleep," Rocky agreed. "Sleep, question?" "Yeah, you just lay down like this," Grace laid down on the bunk with his eyes closed, "For a few hours. Then you'll wake up." "I... understand."

Opening his eyes, Grace rolled off and helped Emerald onto the bed. "Rocky Grace watch Emerald sleep," Rocky comforted. Emerald hummed contentedly. "Good night," Grace smiled down at them as their eyes closed. "Good night..." And they were out.

A shape moves and the zipper is pulled down, exposing the man to the naked air. And to the large robot hovering over him. Before panic could attempt to set in, a pincer slipped inside and grapped ahold of the tube down the man's throat. The man gagged as the tube was gradually pulled free, leading to a harsh coughing fit once it finally left.

"Cognition assessment: What is two plus two?" The voice seemed entirely unphased by the man's struggle. "Ugggh..." dragged its way out of his iritated throat. "Incorrect. What is two plus two?" Seeing as the voice wasn't being helpful, the man opted to take advantage of his new freedom and look around.

In spite of its height, the room he was in was rather small. A tiny cubby sat next to a ladder in the wall, leading up to a circular hatch, beside that were several soft crates stacked and held in place with fabric straps. Directly above the man were the metal tracks holding the robot in place, and two more retractable beds. Everything was white.

Was he in the hospital? It definitely resembled a hospital ward. Although, he couldn't recall one looking quite like that. Actually, now that he thought about it, he couldn't recall much of anything.

No idea how he ended up in the room. No clue where he worked. No relatives. No name. Nothing.

"Heart rate elevated," the voice noted, "Remain calm. You have been in an induced coma." What?! Why the hell would someone put him in a coma? How long had it been?!

Sputtering as the arm lowered a buzzing razor to his face, the man desperately tried to get his body to cooperate. Arms stayed limp. Shoulders however, got with the program. The robot backed off as he tilted left, then right, and over the bed onto the floor.

"Body movement detected."

Quick as he could, the man shuffled forward, progress impeded by the thick sleeping bag he'd been wrapped in. "For your own safety," the main arm pinched the back of the sleeping bag, "Please return to the medical platform." But, with the man's constant wiggling, all the robot achieved was helping him out of the bag.

Unfortunately, something inside got caught on the way out. The man yelped but kept crawling in spite of the slight pain. Eventually, he reached the opposite wall.

Blood trickled down his own arm where the IV had been ripped out. Painting the floor with a thin red line-

---

"Hey, Paul?" "Yes, Bill?" Paul looked up from his coffee as his friend got closer. "Have you seen this? Apparently, everyone's buzzing about this space probe for days, and they're doing the flyby now." Bill held out his phone and offered an earbud.

Paul hesitated for a moment before he slipped it in his ear. "We are just moments away from the flyby of the Petrova line near Venus," the newscaster announces before turning to his guest, "Tell me, what can we expect to find?" The reply goes unheard as Paul fished out his own phone and began to type. Two letters was all he needed for the term to show up.

"The Petrova line is a streak of infrared light arcing from the Sun to Venus," the first sentence of its Wikipedia article read. But before he could go further, Bill gasped. "Oh my god," the guest similarly gasped at the live images on screen behind her. Displayed there, were several little black dots. And they were moving.

---

He blinked as the memory gave way to reality. He was back on the bed, evidently he wasn't outside the robot's reach like he'd hoped. It thankfully didn't try shaving him again. Instead, after the former IV site was clean and a cotton ball secured over it, the robot arm busied itself with plucking the stickers holding the wires in place from his body. As the rather uncomfortable process went on, he reflected on his new found knowledge.

His name was Paul. He had a best friend named Bill. There's weird black dots in space that are making some invisible line between the Sun and Venus.

That's it.

Groaning, Paul eyed the ladder. "Ok." The word was clumsy. Spoken through a weakened jaw and a long unused tongue. It feels good to say. "Ok. Ok. Ok." Each pass is easier than the last. "What is two plus two?" The voice really wanted to hear him say it, huh? "F...four."

"Correct." Good, now he could- "What is the cubed root of eight?" Oh great, more math. "...Two?" He offered. "Correct." Finally satisfied, the robot moved away. Leaving Paul to think about the ladder again.

If he was going to get up there, he'd need a plan. The robot apparently wasn't a problem anymore, leaving just his body as the main obstacle. Right then, OK. Step one: Sit upright.

Arms still felt wobbly but held on. Long, greasy, brown locks hung over Paul's face as he looked down at himself. Something about his muscular frame was... surprising to him. The faint sound of hydraulics accompanied the robot arm as it turned back to him. A tube fell into his lap.

"Eat." It looked like a tube of toothpaste, although the black text claimed otherwise. "Day 1 Meal 1" was printed alongside text from two other languages. Paul unscrewed the cap and reluctantly did as instructed.

Reluctance rapidly turned to eagerness. The moment the thick meaty paste hit his tongue, his stomach cried out in desperation. "More..." Paul rasped once the tube ran dry. "Next meal alotment is in four hours."

As unwelcome as this declaration was, it allowed Paul to recall the reason he'd sat up. Ok, he was feeling pretty stable. Time to try standing.

Swinging his legs over the edge, Paul let his feet dangle a moment before gradually pushing his way off. While trembling slightly, his legs don't buckle. So Paul literally pushed himself forward.

Left. Right. Left, right, left, right.

Paul caught himself on the ladder rungs before he could topple to the floor. Climbing up was the ultimate test of coordination, but he made steady progress. About halfway up, his foot slips. It hit something with a dull thud. And the other beds slid out.

Paul hadn't considered if those beds were occupied. A sense of relief filled him. They might have some answers. Then he notices the white sheets over their faces.

His gut sank. There wasn't one over his. And that tended to mean only one thing.

Swallowing harshly, Paul turned back to the ladder. Even if he was wrong, there was likely nothing he could do for them. All he could do was leave and hopefully find some help.

The hatch was a bit stiff but yielded with a few good pushes. A dark corridor greeted him as he peered in. Outside of a mechanical hum, no sound. Moving further inside resulted in much of the same: narrow walkways with lights that would flicker on as Paul passed.

But no people.

He came to another ladder, this one longer and leading to a more open area. Silent and still. "Where am I?" Paul pleaded to anything that would listen. Hell, he'd take the voice from before again. He turned in a full circle and found a window.

But even this couldn't take away from how happy he was to see it again. Although, it was the middle of the day. Why was it so quiet? Had school been cancelled?

Glancing down to see if he'd missed a memo, Grace noticed his clothes. He was wearing the striped sweater and red jumpsuit he'd worn in the tunnel- Ah. "I'm dreaming." The realisation stung slightly but failed to smother his gratitude at being able to see any part of Earth again.

With a soft sigh, Grace stood up from his desk. Silent footsteps carried him on a circuit around the entire room, taking in every possible detail he may have overlooked before. He likely wouldn't get another chance.

But, sooner then he would have liked, Grace ran out of things to find. And so, with a long final look, he left the classroom.

Autopilot kicked in quick. Guiding him down corridors still half forgotten, and out into the daylight. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair as it brushed past. Grace paused for a moment, relishing the sun's warmth on his skin, before retracing his steps up to where his bike was chained up. Except it wasn't there.

Hovering in its place was a glowing, bright yellow five pointed star.

If Grace hadn't already worked out that he was dreaming, that would have been the ultimate clue. He blinked at it. "...That looks warm," the thought catches Grace's attention. And it was a dream after all. Why not? So he threw caution into the wind and hugged the star.

It was just as warm as he suspected. Firm but not uncomfortable, its edges more sloped than angled. Humming contentedly, Grace tightened his arms around it.

Then the star seemed to twitch. Before he could react, the star surged up into the sky. Taking Grace with it.

Screaming at the top of his lungs, Grace held on with everything he had as the star effortlessly breached the mesosphere and kept going. True stars streaked past in seemingly endless lines, the light blindingly bright. Grace squeezed his eyes closed, still screaming as his body dangled behind like a comet's tail. Either an eternity or a few seconds later, the star crashed into a pool of water, shattering on impact. The remaining momentum caused Grace to briefly skip along its surface before rolling to a stop.

Panting and sputtering, Grace struggled to orient himself, trembling limbs splashing about as they flailed for purchase. Slowly, his heart rate settled back to normal, allowing him to sit up and look about.

He was laying in a massive, shallow basin. Palm trees with multi-coloured leaves, turret-like structures circled with glowing rings, and other radiant foliage lined one side while water poured over the other. And in the centre, was a small fountain.

Carefully, Grace edged towards it. It was fairly simple compaired with its surroundings. The only point of interest was the rod standing proud on top, tipped with a glowing star.

He'd seen it before. Not the whole basin, but the fountain had been depicted in the scrapbook. Kirby had called it the "Fountain of Dreams".

But, why was he seeing it here? In his dream?

Was it because his last thoughts before drifting off were of Kirby? The thing that brought him to the Fountain was very similar to their ship. And he had noticed he was dreaming. Maybe his brain had connected the two and this was the result?

Walking towards the edge, Grace peered down. Nothing could be made out past the mist. He probably should have expected that, but still, he wondered what the view was like.

With this thought, other questions unfurled. How was Popstar coping? Had the cold already set in, or had they caught it earlier than Earth? Why only send one person?

That question had troubled Grace since Kirby had stated such. The Blip-A had a crew of twenty three, and the Hail Mary three. It was outside factors that led to them becoming alone.

Why would Popstar send only Kirby?

A sudden flare of light had Grace turn back to the Fountain. The light promptly burst free from the star and fell into the water in four points. And from these areas, four gysters formed. On each was an object.

Curiosity winning over fear, Grace got closer. From his far left to his far right, the objects were: a broken gear, a heart scepter, a crown, and a flower. In between them, the Fountain blinked periodically.

It caught his attention quite thoroughtly. Closing the distance, Grace braced a knee on the fountain's lower basin and reached for the star. As soon as his fingertip brushed it, it flared again.

Grace covered his eyes against the harsh glare. The flash quickly passed and he opened his eyes.

He was back at the edge. The gysters were gone. No water flowed from the rodless Fountain. And between it and Grace, was a figure. "Hello?" Grace cautiously called out. The red robed figure didn't respond. "Hello, can you hear me?" Apparently not. But before Grace could move to approach, an odd sound made him pause. He turn back to the basin lip, just in time to spot Kirby. Puffed up, flapping their limbs and somehow achieving flight.

Upon reaching the top (had they flown up the entire way?!), Kirby exhaled and landed with a splash. "Dedede!" They also didn't acknowledge Grace at all, eyes focused utterly on the figure. Silently, they turned. Out of everything Grace had been expecting, a light blue penguin was nowhere near the top of the list. "Heh, so you finally made it."

Odder still, Dedede's lips didn't match the words he spoke. Like Grace was watching him be dubbed in real time. "But this is the end of the line, Kirby." Dedede pulled a large wooden mallet from his robes, much to Grace's alarm. "Wait-!" "Time for our rematch!"

He crossed the distance between them with shocking speed. But thankfully, his hammer hits only water. Kirby lands nimbly on their feet while Grace flopped face first into the water. Without disturbing the water at all.

He noticed as soon as he sat up. No matter how much he moved, not a single ripple formed. And no reflection looked back either.

It was like Grace wasn't even there.

The sounds of the fight drew him away from the crisis building in his head at this revelation. Dedede jumped up and landed with a great splash where Kirby had been, yelling in frustration. Then, in what seemed an impulsive move, he chucked the hammer at Kirby.

They didn't dodge it. Kirby stood their ground and drew in a deep breath. An impossibly deep breath. So deep that even where he laid, Grace could feel it pulling him in slightly. The hammer tumbled into Kirby's wide open mouth, and they swallowed.

There was a flash of light and between blinks, Kirby had acquired a corded headband. And their own hammer.

"Huh?!" Dedede looked just as shocked as Grace felt. But Kirby surged towards him, slamming the hammer into Dedede's gut. As he slumped forwards, the next blow knocked him sideways. Dedede thumped down stunned, his leg up in the air, groaning.

Kirby stared at him for a moment, then turned to look at something floating on the water. Standing up, Grace walked over and looked down himself. It was a piece of the rod missing from the Fountain.

Smiling, Kirby gently coughed and spat up what looked like the other fragments. Grace winced in disgust only to watch with curiosity as the pieces gravitated together and fused, looking as if it were never broken in the first place. Discarding the hammer and headband, Kirby picked up the rod and headed for the Fountain.

They were half way there when Dedede got back up. He moaned, rubbing his head, before darting round to spot Kirby. With a short shout, he darted for them, throwing himself down to close the distance needed to grasp Kirby's foot.

As Kirby turned, Dedede looked up pleadingly. "Don't do it, Kirby." Something about the expression made anxiety curl in Grace's chest. Kirby silently continued to walk. Dedede grapped their foot again. "Please, Kirby! You don't understand!" He begged as Kirby kept on going, managing to inch forward even with Dedede hanging on, "I broke the Star Rod because-!"

Kirby finally got fed up and knocked him away with one swing of the Rod. By the time Dedede got back up, Kirby had hopped onto the Fountain. "Wait, NO-!" And reinserted the Star Rod.

The whole universe seemed to hold its breath as Kirby jumped down and peered at it. The water didn't flow. Dedede looked scared. Then the water turned dark.

Rapidly condensing, it pushed its way out of the Fountain, sending the Star Rod clattering to the ground. Fear radiated from it, as did a bone chilling laugh. "What the fudge is that?!" Grace yelled, trembling as Kirby and Dedede both panicked. "The nightmares got out!" Dedede inadvertently answered. The dark orb swooped up into the sky. And Dedede got an idea. He jumped up and started inhaling like Kirby did, sucking up them and the Star Rod. Before hopping back and shooting them in the direction the orb went. And, as if someone had tied a cord around his waist, Grace was yanked along.

Between the two of them, Kirby handled tumbling through the air much better than Grace. Holding the Star Rod tight, they swung at the orb as soon as they got close. It shrieked and glitched in pain. "Oh, would you look at that? It actually is star shaped," Grace's brain pointed out as he looked out at Popstar. Right as the sensation of falling kicked in.

All three fall towards the planet. But neither Kirby or the orb reacted. Instead, they promptly started attacking each other. Literal stars flew from both sides as they plummeted into the atmosphere. A couple ended up Grace's way, though thankfully sailed straight throught him. Leaving him to worry about the ground steadily approaching.

One more hit and with a screech, the orb flew off into space. Before Grace could blink, a familar star rushed up from below. They both lunged for it. Once both its passengers had a firm grip, the star raced after the orb.

Popstar's moon rapidly grew as the chase went on. "No, no thank you. I don't wanna be here!" Grace pleaded with the universe, tearing his eyes away from The Orb of Terror cracking like an egg to reveal something new. "Wake up, wake up, please let me wake up!"

Dark stars bombarded them, forcing Kirby to sharply evade the oncoming barrage. A lucky shot broke the star and introduced them to the moon's rough surface. And the Nightmare swiftly joined them.

Its anatomy should have been impossible. A tornado of dark energy with disconnected clawed hands, and an horned thin head without a neck. Yet, it lived. The very sight of it made every nightmare Grace had ever had rear their heads and fill up his mind. Curling up on himself, he remained vaguely aware of Kirby clashing with the thing, mostly by its screeching with each strike to its swirling body.

All that fear was suddenly cut off with the final blow. The Nightmare's body melted into swelling energy, its still screaming face visible in the mass. Suddenly, The Star Rod pulled Kirby back towards Popstar, and Grace with them. Giving him a front row seat as an explosion ripped through part of the moon, taking a large enough chunk to turn it into a permanent crescent.

---

Grace's eyes snapped open with a full body jolt. Rocky and Kirby, who had been quietly chatting off to the side, startled. "What happen, question?! Why Grace heart fast, question?!" Rocky rapidly tapped around, searching for anything that could be a cause. "It's okay," Grace breathed. "False alarm. Just a... wild dream." He laid his arm over his eyes. "What did you dream?" Kirby asked. "What is Kirby Grace word, question?"

It took a bit to explain dreams to Rocky (who had never dreamed in their life), and even longer for the one Grace had just woken from. But they got there, eventually. The tunnel was silent after he finished.

"That was real." Kirby's words made Grace stiffen. "What?" He asked. "After you touch the Star Rod, that all happened," Kirby confirmed.

Grace stared at Kirby. The Nightmare's laughter lingered in the back of his mind. "Even the explosion?" "Yes." "...Oh. Okay." He took a fortifying breath and asked, "Do I want to know what the other objects would have shown me?"

A lesson plan. That's what he needed. A nice semi-solid lesson plan.

Grace leaned back against the wall of the EVA storage room as he pieced together step by step. Considering they had all managed space travel, numbers felt like a good starting point. After than, names maybe? "One step at a time," Grace whispered to himself.

Walking back down the tunnel, both of the others were already waiting for him. The pilot had added some lights to their own end of the tunnel. Nothing much, just enough for comfort. Presently, they laid on their... stomach? Drawing on a piece of paper with what looked like crayons. Based on the scattered sheets, it wasn't their first.

Both of them perked up at Grace's approaching footsteps. The pilot leapt to their feet, promptly forgetting about their drawing.

"Okay. We're all here for the same reason," Grace laid out as he kept walking, before holding up the petrova line model from the first capsule for both to see. Both quickly gave what sounded like positive sounds. "So, if we're going to work together, we need to communicate. They say that math is the universal language, so..."

Tucking the model away, Grace pulled out one of the tape measures he'd bought along. A quick tap, and a drawer slid out of the divider wall. He popped the tape measure inside, only to quickly snatch his hand away: "Sweet Christmas! It's hot in there. What is that, ammonia?"

As the pilot came closer with a look of concern, the Blip-A's occupant picked up the tape measure, utterly focused on it. Rotating it over and over in their claws as the rubber started to drip off, eventually finding the metal end of the tape. Cooing with interest, they pulled it out.

"You see the numbers?" Grace asked. The Blip-A's occupant showed no sign of notice, their attention fully on the tape as they let go. Something about it snapping back excited them greatly.

Gleefully, they pulled it back out and let it go. "No," Grace held up his own tape measure, "Look, the numbers- Don't do it. Don't-" Again it retracted.

The pilot, at the very least, seemed more receptive, standing on their tiptoes to peer at the tape measure in his hands. Seeing their little limbs waving towards it, Grace handed over the tape measure. Loud, happy chirps had them both look back at the wall.

The Blip-A's occupant was merrily wrapping the tape around their body. And with a giggle, the pilot joined in.

Backup plan it is then. "OK, let's try this," Grace held up the clock. One tape measure was set aside, the other not so much. Honestly, Grace was at a loss on what to do. He looked down the tunnel leading back into the Blip-A. And then he realised.

It was dark down there.

Picking up one of his lighting rigs, he angled it towards the Blip-A's occupant. No reaction. Then, he aimed for just to the right of the pilot. One eye squinted against the light, they looked up at him with confusion.

Right. OK, he could work with this. "One moment," Grace softly said, smiling as the barrier was lightly tapped in responce. "I'll be right back."

As soon as he'd presented his newly adjusted clock, Grace had full attention on him. After a mutual exchange of clocks and jazz hands (and one cobbled together translator), they were finally ready to begin.

"Ok," Grace clapped, "Here we go. One." He held up a finger for clarity. The responding note was promptly listed, and he then turned to the pilot. "One."

That... wasn't what Grace had been expecting. Sure, the clock they'd presented looked extremely close to an earth made alarm clock, but the chances of an alien race developing the exact same spoken language were impossibly slim. So, mostly likely, the pilot had opted to learn Grace's language instead of supplying their own. Which was admittedly somewhat disappointing, but did help streamline the process at least.

Once numbers were sorted, it was time for names.

"Let's start with you," Grace held out the microphone, "'Rocky'." Rocky's front most limbs pressed together, showing off the carved marking across them as they gave a long series of trills before finally petering out. "You done?" The following chirp sounded like a yes, so Grace typed up his translation and moved on. "My name, can't wait to hear this, is Grace. What's your word for my name? Go ahead."

A pause. And then- "Pffth."

With a sigh, it was recorded and Grace turned to the pilot. "Kirby." They wasted no time and neither did Rocky. In stark contrast to Grace's name, Kirby got a cheerful squeak.

And on they went. Slowly at first, but with understanding came speed. Until they started speaking whole sentences without needing to clarify a word.

Of course, some words were prioritised over others.

"We call it 'Astrophage'," Grace held up the test tube for both to see/hear, "It means 'star eater'." Rocky sang out their equivalent while Kirby frowned in thought. "Need word," he said, "sickness that travels on air, causes cold feeling."

That had a lot of possible answers. Although, one jumped out more than the rest. "Flu?" Grace offered. "Yes. Popstar use 'Star Flu'." Made sence given Popstar's circumstances. "I will use... astrophage," Kirby slowly practiced the word, "Avoid confusion."

Rocky tapped the floor and sang. "Rocky happy not alone," the read out displayed. Grace frowned and turned to them, "Why are you alone?" "Was twenty-three Eridians on ship. Now only one." "What happened to them?"

The way Rocky slumped over made the translation clear as day. "How did they die?" Grace asked as Kirby looked down Rocky's end of the tunnel sadly. "Rocky not know. Only Rocky not died. Rocky could not fix."

With a great sigh, Kirby sat down beside Grace as if that statement sucked all the energy out of them. "How many humans on Grace ship, question?" Rocky asked, accidently continuing the topic. "Oh. There were three of us," Grace replied, looking down as he cleaned his glasses, "and two died on the way here. Now it's only me. How about you, Kirby?"

Kirby blinked up at him. "Popstar make special engine, but too small for Meta Knight ship. Make new ship right size for engine. Trust me with ship. Only me."

Rocky chirped and rolled their limbs. "Only us," Grace read with a slight smile, copying the gesture back. It definitely picked Kirby's spirits back up. "Grace Rocky Kirby save stars," Rocky stated with confidence. With a wider smile, Grace make his way over and rested his fist against the clear xenonite, and waited for them both to follow suit.

"It's called a fist bump, by the way," he supplied as he walked back to the computer. Looking at the screen as Rocky said something back, he was stunned. "'Fist my bump'?" Grace read out, "No, it's fist bump." Rocky responded. "It's not the same. Kirby, back me up here?" Kirby simply giggled.

---

After the second time tripping over the flimsy wire model just to read what Rocky had said, Grace finally decided enough was enough. He picked up the laptop and sat down, scrolling through the program. Mercifully, there was a wealth of text-to-speech options to choose from.

"Ok," Grace clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Let's try this one." "Why is a school teacher in space?" A low, monstrous growl repeated Rocky's previous question, startling both Rocky and Kirby. "Don't like that voice." "Can't unhear it really," Grace stated. "Scary." "Yeah," Grace concured as Kirby nodded and switched to another. Only to fumble with the laptop as a sultry tone replaced the older one.

It took quite a few tries before a suitable voice was finally found.

"Why is a school teacher in space?" Rocky read in a voice Grace privately found vaguely familiar, "I like!" Kirby bounced in place in celebration. "All right. And in answer to your question, I have no idea what I'm doing in space. I can't remember," Grace explained after switching back to the read out. "It okay. Grace find out when Grace go home."

The words stared him down, daring him to contradict them. Grace swallowed. "...I'm gonna go to sleep."

"No understand word," Rocky said as Grace got up, Kirby's attention similarly peaked. "Sleep? Uh, just, you go like this-" As soon as Grace's head touched the makeshift table, Rocky startled. "Died? Is died? Died? No-No-No-No-" "No. not died." he soothed, eyes still shut, "Just lay here for 29,000 seconds and then," he sits back up with a deep breath in. "We wake up."

As Rocky provided their own word for it, Kirby practiced it quietly. "I watch Grace Kirby sleep," Rocky stated. "No, that's fine," Grace shrugged off, knocking into the wire model as he started to walk back, "That's a little weird." Kirby turned to Rocky. "Why watch sleep?" They asked. "Eridians watch to keep safe. Rocky watch crew many days. Crew not wake up."

Grace stops. The resolve to walk away had already died before he turned back around. And even if it hadn't, Kirby had some killer puppy eyes.

Which is how Grace ended up laying on his back in the tunnel, tucked into a divet in the clear wall, Rocky firmly seated on the xenonite above, and Kirby flopped on top of his chest wearing a purple and yellow sleeping cap. Looking at Rocky's undercarriage wasn't particularly appealing, but he dare not wake Kirby up. Not with how quickly they'd drifted off.

They were scuttling about the lab like a pro mere minutes later. "Look at you go," Grace commented gently, watching as the little guy inspected anything they could reach. At the sound of his voice, the little guy turned their attention his way and wandered over. Silently, Grace watched from where he sat on the lab stool.

A leg gently poked a dangling shoelace. Followed by tracing the edge of his shoes, then becoming aware of the lab coat he was still wearing, eagerly feeling the fabric with two hands. They didn't make a sound, but a palpable sense of happiness radiated off of them. "I get ball, greet properly!" Rocky bounded out of the lab with delight.

The little guy wasn't bothered by Rocky's sudden absence. They were far too fascinated by Grace's lab coat for that. Then, they paused. A claw releases the coat and moves to a shoelace. Both were pinched at their lowest point and raised up to an equal height. The shoelace was dropped, followed by the coat. Then both were picked up again and released, this time simultaneously.

"Aw, baby's first experiment." Thankfully, the thought doesn't make it to Grace's mouth. Warmth filled his chest and the beginnings of tears bloomed in his eyes. "Am ready!" Rocky rolled in triumphantly, "Why Grace almost leaking question?" "I just-" Grace closed his eyes and cleared his throat, "Oh boy." And bent down to pat the little guy on the top of their carapace, being mindful of the crystal in the middle. Just in case.

Almost immediately, they leaned into his hand, emitting soft chirps and coos. Their carapace felt closer to calloused skin then hardened mineral. Tough yet flexable. Alive and right there.

There was no stopping the tears now.

Rocky didn't say anything about it, instead rolled up closer and stopped within reach. With one more chirp, the little guy suddenly changed back to that humanoid form they started with, Grace's hand relocating to a horn. "Hey, buddy," he spoke quietly, "Welcome to... life, I guess. I'm Grace." "And I am Rocky," they added with the longer introduction and gesture from when they first met.

The little guy blinked and looked between them both. "Grace... Rocky." They said without speaking, the words broadcasted directly into Grace and Rocky's minds. Shock filled the lab.

"Holy smokes..." Grace gasped. "Yes yes yes!" Rocky danced on the spot in excitement. The little guy smiled with their eyes.

It took Grace a moment to shake off the sheer astonishment of a voice being projected into his head. He laughed slightly before smiling at them: "Great job, buddy." Preening under all the praise, the little guy hummed a long note. Rocky folded up into a loaf and hummed back.

Grace had been spring cleaning. Well, reunion cleaning would be more accurate, but cleaning up regardless. Mostly for the sake of something to do that wasn't screen-based.

And found Sample A-1. Just right there in a test tube holder in the refrigeration unit. "Huh. There you are," Grace muttered as he pulled it out. "What Grace find, question?" Rocky leaned in from the tunnel above. "One of the isolated microbial samples from the astrophage sampler."

In the rush of Rocky's realisation regarding what ended up being taumoeba, and then the leak and subsequent events, the sample had completely slipped his mind. "Non predator life, question?" "Non predator life," Grace confirmed, placing the vial back in the fridge for the time being. He still had some more cleaning to do. But there was a definite pep in his step as he tidied the cockpit.

An hour later, he was back in the lab. With restrained excitement, Grace prepped the slide and started the same round of tests he'd done on astrophage back on Earth. After all, if astrophage did origin on Adrian, the other samples could display similar qualities. One after another, taking breaks in between to note down each reaction before carrying on with the next. Then he noticed something unusual.

One of them had changed colour. Now being orange and blue with a green nucleus. Just that one.

Curiosity peaked, Grace carefully isolated the cell onto its own petri dish, labelling it A-1a before clearing up the previous sample. He hadn't turned away from it long. No more than a minute.

And yet, when he did turn back, the sample had become macroscopic.

Grace froze. Before his very eyes, the lump of flesh and crystal continued growing, even beginning to push up the petri dish lid. Heart pounding in his throat, Grace carefully edged out of the lab and around the corner. "Hey, Rocky? Could you come here?" "Something happen, question?" "...Yeah."

The tip tap of Rocky's claws on xenonite felt mildly soothing even as the rest of Grace's brain kept screaming about the literal horror movie scenario unfolding less than a metre away. Rocky stopped by Grace's side, not even attempting to enter the lab.

"...Grace. What growing in lab, question?" "I was just running some basic tests," Grace frantically whispered, eyes flickering towards the open doorway, "and one cell reacted..." He didn't know what else to say, but Rocky seemed to follow. "What-?"

A loud thump came from the lab. "Rocky, what was that?" Grace wheezed, heart thundering against his ribs like it was trying to abandon ship. "Stopped growing, statement," Rocky tapped the tube wall twice, "Laying on ground."

That was a very unfun statement. One Grace desperately hoped would be followed by "is joke!" It never came. Yet, in spite of the pop culture fueled fear currently pumping through his veins, a flicker of curiosity made itself known.

What does it now look like? How big was it? Was it now multicellular? Could it be conscious? Sentient? ...Sapient?

Grace began to inch back towards the doorway. Muffled sounds gradually became audible as he got closer and, with a deep breath, peeked his head around the corner.

It was humanoid. A torso with two legs at the base and a head on top. In terms of arms, two thin tendrils came out of the area where human arms would be on each side. An unmistakable groan issued from their head as they were sprawled face down on the floor.

It was rather difficult to be afraid of such a sight. "Hey, buddy," Grace said cautiously as he stepped closer, Rocky at his heels, "You OK?" Another groan, and that head lifted up on newly formed muscles, turning carefully as to avoid scraping the large protrusions (horns?) on either side of their head on the floor.

Their face was fairly featureless. A blue oval split by a purple line. A pair of eyes cracked open to greet the Hail Mary with the air of a disgruntled cat woken from a nap. Only widen to full alertness with a look that said "woah, I'm having a thought."

Before Grace could say anything, the new lifeform started trying to push themselves up. Their limbs quickly buckled, sending them back to the floor with a grunt of frustration. Looking back up, their eyes fixed onto Grace's hands. And the tendrils shifted, coiling into each other, into a pair of human hands.

"Oh," Grace said weakly. Rocky just cooed wordlessly. This time, as the lifeform pushed themselves up, they managed to get on their knees. There they rested, eyes glittering as they took in each object that met their gaze. Eventually, they found the petri dish lid and reached for it.

As he watched them play with the lid, Grace's mind stalled on the very important question of what to do next. Because really, what on earth should he do? "Grace," Rocky's voice, both actual and artificial, drew his attention. "Yeah, bud?" Grace asked softly, still wary of startling the creature in front of him. "New life like yesterday movie, question?"

That... wasn't an unreasonable comparison, Grace supposed. Although he'd like to think he was nothing like Victor Frankenstein. "In a way," he replied simply. "I understand. Grace doing very good." "You think so?" "Yes yes yes. Grace not deadbeat."

Before Grace could even begin to comprehend how Rocky had learned that word, there was movement from the creature, a sudden surge downward. Only, when Grace looked over, they hadn't fallen. Their whole body had changed.

Now, instead of a human-like shape, they had taken on an eridian one. Still mainly bright orange, the green crystal Grace had noticed in the centre of their chest had relocated to where Rocky's radiator vents were. Surrounding it were three blue dots arranged into a triangle. Thin purple lines in between led from the top of their "carapace" down to their dark grey underside. Each leg had a horizontal blue stripe resembling a bandaid on the elbow, and ended at a dulled point.

For about half a minute, there was near total silence. And then- "Amaze amaze amaze!"

Either eridians can't experience the uncanny valley, or Rocky's scientific intrigue proved much stronger. Either way, Grace gave a sigh of relief. Carefully, the little guy stood up. After a brief wobble, they copied Rocky's excited jazz hands, the end of each limb splitting to show blue palms.

The box was sent off without issue. Not even removing his EVA suit, Grade climbed back into the cockpit and sat down. "Blip-F detected. Blip-G detected." "Oh, come on!" He complained. They were going to go through the whole alphabet before lunch at this rate. At least, one of the blips wasn't meant for him. Regardless, Grace floated back towards the airlock.

Evidently, the Blip-A had opted to take a note from the Starship's playbook. The new cylinder smoothly spun into his hands from within the airlock.

Back inside, the two ends didn't open into opposite compartments, instead loosening the sides. Once detached, the full model inside was visible. The Hail Mary, Blip-A, and the Starship linked together by a y shaped tunnel.

They wanted to meet them both. Face to face to face.

Grace didn't have to wait long. Five poles, scaffolding, stretched out and attached to the Hail Mary. After most of the tunnel had been manufactured, one of the robot arms from the Blip-A moved onto the tunnel and started applying the scaffolding for the Starship, which carefully tilted to allow the scaffolding to fit over the clear dome. A few minutes later, both sides were complete.

As the airlock cycled, Grace's heart pounded in his throat. The hatch swung open to near total darkness. Lightly pushing off before he could back out, he slowly drifted down the new corridor.

About halfway was a wall, divided into different coloured sections, angled in the perfect way to accommodate for the pilot. Who was already there, peering through the clear patch at the corner where both sides meet, a great big smile firmly in place. The sight of it soothed the roiling anxiety in Grace's gut: "Hi there."

The pilot seemed to hear him, or at least understood what he was likely saying. They tapped at the glasslike structure between them gently before turning to the Blip-A's side. Doing the same, Grace squinted and tapped on the wall.

One, two, three.

Something slammed into view. Instantly, Grace launched himself away, landing roughly against the xenonite behind. Clutching at it, he looked back, panting hard. The wall remained intact. Taking a few breathes, Grace pushed back up to the wall. From the corner of his eye, he could see the pilot similarly recovering.

Lit up by their combined helmet lights, a rocky limb came into view and knocked a digit against the wall on Grace's side three times. Hard enough to be clearly heard on both. The pilot responded first, their limb squishing against the surface without a sound to Grace's ears. His own reply was faint but audible.

The hand moved out of view before coming back with a small figurine. "Is that me?" Grace asked as he took in the replica of himself holding the first message. The arm retracted and returned with a recreation of the pilot who looked utterly delighted.

Gone again. Then two returned, each holding a different ship model before releasing them and letting them spin in zero g. And both figurines appeared again, their holder mimicking them walking back into their ships.

"You want us to go back to our ships?" Grace asked, pointing with his thumb back to the Hail Mary as the pilot did similar, "But we just got here." The movements got more insistent. "Okay, I'll talk to you guys later. Bye," he gave a thumbs up, the pilot nodded, and waved on his way back into the airlock.

Finally removing his EVA suit, Grace watched from a viewport as both sides of the tunnel were detached and pulled back slightly. Before the Blip-A started to spin. End over end like a turbine. Or a centrifuge.

Promptly, Grace headed up to the cockpit and started making adjustments. "It is not advised to modify the centrifugal settings of the ship," Mary chimed in. "Thank you, Mary," Grace said back on reflex as he pulled the lever and the Hail Mary soon synchronised with the Blip-A. Eventually, the Starship fired up its engines and started circling the tunnel.

Gravity returned and Grace got to work, ripping up wires and lights he could live without. By the time the tunnel reattached, he had plenty of lights ready. The sudden pressure that slammed him into the heavy door behind him once the airlock opened was unexpected but quickly discarded in favour of the tunnel itself. Lugging the cables behind him, Grace walked towards the wall.

"Oh wow, this is new."

The wall was different. Made fully of the clear xenonite. Grace shone his strip of lights down the other side. And then he realised something else.

It was flat, and further back.

A faint sound had Grace's head turn towards the open path to the Starship, and the pilot looked back. With an audible laugh, they padded over, stopping within arms reach of Grace. "Hai!" The pilot called up, standing on their tiptoes and still only reaching just above his waist. "Hi," Grace echoed, somewhat nervous about the lack of a barrier between them.

A sound from behind the clear wall reminded them both of the tunnel's creator. Between Grace's DIY lighting rigs and the faint blue light of the Pilot's helmet, their features came quickly into focus as they drew closer.

Five limbs, each tipped by three fingers, connected to a faceless body, all seemingly composed of rocks. Musical chirping gradually grew louder as they neared. Unconsciously, Grace took a step closer to the barrier. "Hai!" The pilot suddenly hugged the wall, the glass of their visor making a loud thunk.

The Blip-A's occupant gave a high screech. Grace yelled, the pilot yelled. Panic gripping him tightly, Grace wound back the arm holding the heavy wrench and-

"Poyo! Poyo! Poyo!" The pilot waved frantically, rapidly turning on their heels to face each of them alternately. Then inflated like a balloon.

The sight startled Grace out of his blind panic, mostly due to how bizarre it looked. The pilot's helmet even had to flex to allow for it. A long loud exhale, and they deflated. Before inhaling and puffing up again.

The reason was clear.

For the next couple of minutes, the only sound in that tunnel was controlled breathing on all sides. "OK," Grace carefully said as he put the wrench on the ground. The Blip-A's occupant similarly lowered their back leg from its scorpion-like pose. Relieved laughter rippled between the three of them.

And the Blip-A's occupant started tapping on the wall. Grace started tapping back. The tapping sped up, so did Grace. Then the pilot tapped on Grace's leg. "Poyo," they pointed at part of the wall leading to the Hail Mary. There was something attached to the wall. "Ah. Right," Grace winced as he finally noticed, "Sorry."

An irritated tune followed him to the capsule in the wall. Ingraved on the surface was the Hail Mary and the Starship. The top popped open to a pair of interlocked rings with eight gems studded around each. "Oh," he held them up and grinned, "I don't have one of these!"

Cooing in curiosity, the pilot wandered over. From their side of the wall, the Blip-A's occupant sang and made an odd gesture, bracing both front hands around their body and then an upward motion. Grace was confused. He glanced at the pilot and was met by an equally befuddled look.

Charades it is then. "You want me to put this on my head?" The response definitely sounded negative. "No? OK, what about them?" Another negative. "Poyo?" the pilot muttered, copying the gesture. Only their limbs kept knocking their helmet. Then it hit.

Thankfully, it hit Grace at the same moment. "You want us to take off our helmets?" he slowly stated, hands hovering over his head. Excitement, clearly correct.

Oh. Oh, he couldn't do that. Nope.

A light batting at his leg drew Grace's attention back down to the pilot. They reached for the handcuffs (god, he hoped that wasn't what they actually were). He handed them over. The Pilot held them out with rings laid as close to flat as possible. And Grace was suddenly struck by a realisation. "Two rings of eight. It's oxygen!"

That explained why the airlock blasted him backwards. But, it didn't mean it was automatically safe to take his helmet off. What about the concentration? Hypoxia and hyperoxia were both equally unfun, and both were things Grace definitely wanted to avoid experiencing. But, they were aware that he breathed oxygen. That both he and the Pilot did. Likely got samples from the return messages. Why wouldn't it be the right concentration?

If he's right, it would make things notably easier. But if he's wrong, he's really wrong.

The pilot's limbs were braced on the lower portion of their helmet. They didn't move, just looked up at Grace and waited. His hands inched towards the chest plate. For a moment, his fingers hovered over it. Then Grace held his breath and released the seal.

Two faint hisses of air filled the tunnel. Followed by silence. Then Grace dared to take a breath.

Relief practically radiated off of him. His head hadn't popped, he wasn't suffocating, he was fine. Another bout of laughter echoed off the tunnel walls.

There he was, an amnesiac science teacher, laughing away with two aliens like they were old friends. As his laughter faded, Grace's mind started working away.

Another ship had appeared. It was small, smaller than the Hail Mary considerably, with a single dome sticking out ontop of a five sided yellow star. Moments later, the dome retracted to show a clear one underneath. Inside this dome, the pink spherical pilot snoozed away without a care in the world.

Grace blinked at it.

A light started flashing on the control panel inside the dome. The pilot twitched, slowly inched open bright blue eyes, and patted the control panel with a nubby limb until the light turned back off. Stretching their whole body, the pilot yawned and looked around. First at the control panel, then at Tau Ceti, and finally at the Hail Mary. Directly at Grace.

Instantly, the little guy was wide awake. A big beaming smile as bright as the star they were orbiting broke free as they started excitedly waving. Grace couldn't help but smile too as he waved back. Then they spotted the Blip-A and waved its way with equal enthusiasm.

Such a brave little guy. To see two unknown ships, both very very big, and react with only joy.

"Blip-E detected," Mary's voice roused Grace from his thoughts. Another xenonite cylinder twirled through space at a different angle than B and C. He'd got his greeting, now it was the new guy's turn.

Light projected onto the dome, highlighting its path towards the Blip-D. The pilot looked at it then squinted at something else. A button was tapped and the former Blip-C's trajectory lit up the glass. An idea seemed to form in their eyes. Another button had the whole pilot seat retract into the ship itself. A minute later, they popped back up, now clad in a blue tinted helmet with two tanks on the back and an antenna on top. In their limbs was a wide container.

A lever was pulled, and the dome opened up. The little pilot gave another wave and gently pushed the container towards the Hail Mary's airlock before turning to intercept the cylinder.

As the pilot fired up their jetpack, Grace made his way back to the airlock. At least this one looked easy to catch.

---

The box sat inside the fume hood innocently. Lid secured by a ribbon tied into a five sided star shaped bow, the whole thing bore the same colours as the pilot. Carefully, Grace pinched an end of the ribbon and pulled. It unraveled smoothly. Setting it aside for the moment, he removed the lid.

There was no hiss of air. No resistance followed the lid as Grace peered at the contents. It was a scrapbook. Spiralbound with shockingly high quality covers and cream paper.

Somehow, the sight of something so familiar inside felt even stranger than the xenonite.

The fume hood opened to no additional scents, just the still lingering ammonia. Grace picked up the book and carried it over to the lab table. "Okay," he said to himself as he sat down, "Alien book, here we go."

The first page held an illustration of their solar system. Mostly typical, Grace's eyes were drawn to one in particular: it appeared star shaped with two rings and a singular moon. Somewhat baffled by this detail, Grace turned the page to a closer look of that same planet.

Was their planet literally shaped like that? It explained the fondness for the shape, but how would a planet even form like that, let alone orbit without trouble?

Shaking his head, he moved on. The next few pages were dioramas of the planet's surface. Full of so much life and colour. Then came the Petrova Line. Only, there was something Grace wasn't expecting.

There were two. One from their sun to an CO2 heavy planet. And a second thinner one from that planet to the Pilot's home.

That made no sense. That shouldn't be possible. Quickly, Grace flicked through drawings depicting the discovery of the Petrova Line and its effects, eyes scanning for whatever difference could lead to such a thing. Until he flipped to a page that made his gut sink.

It was the interior of a house. Several of the orange aliens depicted previously were tending to an sick individual in bed. An individual depicted as a miniature sun, covered in black blotches.

Running his fingers through his hair, Grace breathed in deep. It was unprecedented. Astrophage can't infect humans nor any other Earth life, but clearly at least one form of life on that planet could be. The very concept had a shiver run down Grace's spine.

Wherever this planet was, they must have felt even more of a time crunch than Earth did. Turning to the next page, Grace saw them actively trying to mitigate Astrophage's effects on the poor guy, setting up a lightproof isolation ward and piling on blankets. Seemed like a good start. But that was only a fraction of the problem.

After that was a record of the starship's construction, the route to Tau Ceti, and a picture presumably meant for the pilot. Rows and rows of people, some waving, some posing, all staring back with hope in their eyes. With a long sigh, Grace closed the scrapbook.

Okay, time to think.

The Hail Mary was at Tau Ceti to find out why it wasn't dimming. According to the scrapbook, the pilot was there for the same reason. Was that also the Blip-A's mission? His mind drifted back to the first sculpture and Grace made his way over to it. "Yep, it's a Petrova Line," he stated aloud. Three ships, three stars, roughly the same situation.

Now that was sorted, what else does he know? As he thought, Grace started walking about the lab. His eyes rested on the scrapbook again. Right. The pilot was probably waiting for a reply.