I reblog whatever my current obsessions are

Rocky mumbles something about humans’ sense of humor, but you tune him out as you turn your head in Ryland’s direction in time for him to press a kiss to your cheek. You feel the tension in your shoulders lighten by a fraction as the corner of your lips curls up. 

Before he can turn away, you curl a hand around the front of his flight suit and pull him back to you, planting a firm kiss on his lips. Ryland only has a moment to return the kiss before you let go of his flight suit.

“Be careful out there,” you say softly, meeting his gaze.

Ryland nods, a determined spark lighting in his eyes. “I always am.”

You want to respond that you’ve seen plenty of evidence to the contrary, but hold your tongue, knowing you’re only delaying Ryland’s departure. Instead, you simply wish him good luck.

While Ryland puts on his EVA suit and prepares the airlock, Rocky says your name and shakes his carapace in what you’ve learned is disapproval. “Distracting Grace from mission, no helpful.”

You roll your eyes and check the velocity readings, seeing it’s still at the necessary 127.5 meters per second. “I’m not distracting him. I’m just being encouraging.”

The exterior airlock door opens, and you hear Ryland groan over the radio. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Rocky perks up. “What problem, question?”

“It’s fine,” Ryland replies, and, from a glance at the airlock, you see him adjusting the ship’s exterior tethers. “It’s just the sky is… slightly on fire.”

At his words, you check one of the external camera feeds and, sure enough, the planet below seems to glow due to the IR blast from the engines. The bright orange fire contrasts against the green planet, reminding you of—

There was less than a week left until launch.

It was the evening, and the sun had long since set over the Kazakh steppes. You drained the water from the boiled pasta down the kitchenette sink in Ryland’s mobile home and set out paper plates and the butter you requested from the central dining hall. 

“Pasta’s ready,” you told Ryland, who frowned down at one of the seemingly endless documents cluttering the kitchen table.

Upon seeing that Ryland continued to stare at a document, you took a few steps forward and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Earth to Ryland? Come in?”

The crease in his forehead smoothed and he looked up. “Sorry, I was doing the math on how much additional space some extra coma slurry would take up.” His lips curled upon seeing you were wearing his periodic table shirt, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his seat at the mobile home’s solitary chair. “Thank you for making dinner.”

You half-heartedly rolled your eyes. “Right, because boiling pasta takes a culinary genius.”

Ryland pulled you in a soft kiss before leaning back and looking at you with warm eyes. “I’m serious. It’s been a long day, and I appreciate you coming to make us both dinner.” A mischievous smile spread across his lips as his hand snuck below the shirt you wore and settled at your waist. “Even if you did come here with ulterior motives.”

Your skin tingled where his hand touched your waist, and a blush crept up your cheeks. “You say that now but—”

The windows shattered as a thunderous explosion shook the mobile home, sending you and Ryland tumbling to the ground while glass shards spilled onto the floor. Ryland sat up and mouthed something to you, but it took you a moment to realize that you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears. Thin slits cut across Ryland’s face from the flying shards of glass, and he helped pull you into a sitting position. 

“—you okay?” The ringing in your ears finally eased enough to hear Ryland’s concerned voice. Meanwhile, you could hear sirens in the distance.

You tentatively nodded and shook your shoulders to ease the ache that came from hitting the ground hard. 

Using the table and kitchenette as leverage, you and Ryland tentatively stood up and made your way to the front door. Ryland swung the door open, revealing that the whole house had been pushed a few feet back from the anchored front steps due to the force of the explosion. The Baikonur Cosmodrome had set up lights for the temporary camp, but they were now all dark. You see a fire burning in the far distance.

“Grace? Are you okay?” Stratt’s voice called out from the darkness outside, and you faintly remembered that Ryland had mentioned that her mobile home was next to his.

“Yeah!” Ryland replied on both your behalfs, “What the heck was that?”

“I don’t know,” Stratt’s voice yelled back. “Hold on.”

A few moments later, Stratt emerged from the darkness holding a flashlight and wearing a bathrobe. She spoke back and forth with someone on her handheld radio before finally addressing you and Ryland. She spared you a momentary glance, seemingly unsurprised to see you. “The research center blew up.”

While Ryland asked Stratt who was at the research center, you felt your legs grow wobbly and held onto the door frame for support. “No…” You whispered, realizing what this meant, but neither Ryland nor Stratt seemed to hear you.

Stratt flipped through a wad of papers that held everyone’s schedules and gasped when she reached the page she was looking for. She gasped. “DuBois and Shapiro. They’re scheduled to be there doing some Astrophage experiments.”

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, and you interrupted Ryland’s rambling about the potential blast radius. “Andrea said she was going to join them.”

Ryland froze and Stratt turned her handheld radio back on. “Prime crew—I need your locations. Call them in.” Yao and Ilyukhina swiftly reported in, but there were no responses after that. 

“DuBois! Check in!” Silence. “Shapiro. Dr. Annie Shapiro. Check in!” Again, more silence. Stratt’s eyes flickered to you before turning back to her radio. “Cáceres! Andrea Cáceres, check in!”

The silence from the radio felt deafening and your legs finally gave out under you. Stratt and Ryland’s eyes turned to you, and you knew you were all thinking the same thing: you were now the only science specialist left. 

Instead of meeting either of their gazes, you turned to watch the still burning fire in the distance as tears streamed down your face.

You come back to the present with a tiny gasp, your heart racing from finally remembering what led you to come on the mission after all. You feel a tear escape your eye and quickly wipe it away. Any distractions now could lead the whole mission to fail.

The exterior cameras have automatically turned off to protect their digitizers, preventing you from seeing where Ryland is. Luckily, Rocky chooses that moment to speak.

“Collector is closed,” Rocky says, “Move winch into position.”

You hear Ryland groan over the radio, and you can almost see him summoning his strength to fix the winch into place under the strain of 1.4 g’s of gravity from being at the top of Adrian’s atmosphere.

A minute later, Rocky successfully coaches Ryland through retrieving the sampler. Through his echolocation, Rocky can “see” Ryland’s movements on the ship’s hull. Whatever Ryland is now doing is concerning to Eridian as he voices his displeasure. “Careful, collector important.”

You open your mouth to ask what Ryland did, but a low altitude warning from the ship’s navigation cuts you off. Checking the velocity and altitude readings, you realize the ship has shifted out of the necessary angle it needs to maintain a safe altitude. You feel your palms begin to sweat.

“Hold on tight, Ryland,” you say, as you place your hand on the ship’s controls.

“Why?” Ryland’s strained voice asks, and you can hear the anxiety in his voice.

“Adrian’s gravity is pulling on us too much. I need to readjust the ship’s angle.” You try to imagine Yao’s serious but encouraging face from one of your flight simulations, and the memory sets you slightly at ease. Taking a deep breath, you lightly press on the controls and successfully realign the ship. The ship groans at the change, but the altitude stops deteriorating. Glancing through the airlock’s window, you see that you readjusted in time to avoid dipping below the planet’s aurora borealis.

Just as you’re about to sign in relief, a loud bang hits the hull of the ship. “What was that?” you ask frantically, and glance at the remaining exterior camera. The camera feed shows Ryland crouched down on the ship’s hull and tightly hugging the sampler. You open your mouth to ask again, but Ryland finally speaks up.

“I’m good,” he groans, wobbly standing up and shaking his arm. “Something from the hull came loose and brushed my arm, but the suit protected me. I think if you hadn’t adjusted the angle, it would’ve fully hit me.”

A minute later, you hear Ryland enter the airlock. The ship continues to groan as Ryland joins you in the cockpit, and you frantically check the screens, trying to pinpoint which screen could provide an explanation.

“Where is that noise coming from?” Ryland asks, voicing your thoughts.

“Noise is from all around,” Rocky quickly replies, and his carapace tilts in the way he does when he’s extending his echolocation far. “It’s loudest at portside of bedroom.”

While Rocky and Ryland speculate on whether gravity could be the cause, you focus on the ship’s navigation controls. With a firm push, you put the spin-drive onto full blast, causing the three of you to lurch back at the force.

“Hull bending below big room in bedroom,” Rocky says while the ship flashes a warning about the hull pressure.

“That’s the fuel tanks!” Ryland replies from his seat in the corner of the control room.

You focus on the ship controls and altitude readings while Ryland and Rocky argue back and forth. “Quiet!” You finally yell over the groaning of the ship and their bickering. “I can’t concentrate when you’re both shouting!”

Luckily, Ryland and Rocky have the decency to look embarrassed, and you can see Ryland’s pout and Rocky’s downturned carapace in the periphery of your vision. After several minutes, you finally stop the engines.

You raise your hands from the controls. “We did it!” you say with a relieved smile.

A matching smile spreads across Ryland’s face as objects in the cockpit float from the lack of gravity. However, after a few seconds, the objects begin to drop, slightly and then frighteningly fast. A sudden jerk from the ship sends your seat flying toward the opposite end of the cockpit, narrowly avoiding Ryland’s chair.

“Why ship moving, question?” Rocky asks, frantically holding onto the handhold in his xenonite tunnel.

Mary’s voice speaks up as various alarms begin to go off. “Hull breach. Portside fuel compartments 11 and 12.”

The force of “gravity” begins to feel stronger, and you attempt to drag your chair back to the center. Meanwhile, Rocky asks what is happening.

Ryland flicks on the screen closest to him to display the exterior camera feed. “The fuel line is migrating to Adrian!”

“Eject bad fuel bay, question?” Rocky says, and you can see his legs shaking from the strain of holding on.

You groan out an affirmative as you press the controls to jettison compartment 12. You have to nearly throw yourself against the opposite wall to flick the switch. The force of the jettison pushes you sideways. You hear a strangled chirp and loud thump from Rocky’s direction as he slams against his xenonite barrier.

Ryland helps you program the control for compartment 11, but the pressure from the ship’s spinning begins to feel unbearable. With your remaining strength, you throw yourself at the switch to jettison the compartment. Your head slams against the wall and rattles your skull. Within a few seconds, you can feel blood begin to pour down your face. As darkness creeps into the corners of your vision, you hear Ryland screaming your name and push the jettison button with your remaining strength.

Her words gave you pause. With all the chaos of the quickly approaching launch and preparing the prime crew, the reality that you weren’t being sent on the mission hadn’t truly occurred to you.

Oblivious, Andrea continued talking. “I was always planning on going to graduate school, but I thought it would be years before I saved enough money to go. Now look at me!” She smiled brightly. “What’s next for you?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“We have nearly thirty years until the probes come back from Tau Ceti,” Andrea explained. “What are you going to do after the launch?”

After the launch. What would you do? Who would you be once the project was over?

“I… don’t know,” you admitted, your shoulder slumping.

Andrea placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s a valid question. I just hadn’t really thought about it.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” she replied with a comforting smile. “That’s what’s great. We have all the time in the world to decide where we want to go and with who.”

With who.

Unwittingly, a familiar pair of bright blue eyes and soft smile flashed across your memory.

“What think, Earth?” Rocky asks the mounted camera in the lab after explaining the plan to collect the Astrophage predator from Adrian’s upper atmosphere. After several moments of silence, Rocky taps on his xenonite barrier. “Hello?”

“They can’t hear you, pal,” Ryland says, prompting you to look up from the seemingly never-ending task of assembling the xenonite chain. 

Rocky freezes. “What?”

“We’re not actually talking to Earth,” Ryland continues as he moves storage containers and prepares the lab for your upcoming trip in Adrian’s upper atmosphere. As Ryland explains to Rocky the purpose of the video logs and the plan to send them back using the beetles, you let your mind wander.

It was now a few days since the discovery of life on Adrian and, nearly as pressingly, since you impulsively kissed Ryland and he nearly kissed you. But you had yet to talk about it. You can tell Ryland has wanted to broach the topic several times, but between planning and Rocky’s constant presence, there never seems to be a good moment.

And what would you say? You both signed up for this mission knowing you will give your lives for it. There won’t be an after the mission. You could maybe ration the food to last a year or two, but even that feels like putting off the inevitable. What’s the point of seeing if there could be more with Ryland when there’s a looming expiration date?

He does look good moving the boxes though…

“Why not you tell them yourself when you return home, question?” Rocky asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

The question makes you tense. This is the moment you and Ryland had been dreading.

Ryland continues moving boxes, but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he spares you a sideways glance. “This is a one-way ticket for us, pal.”

Rocky fidgets nervously. “What?”

“We had enough Astrophage to get here,” Ryland continues in a carefully casual tone. “But not enough to get back.”

“So, what happens next, question?” Rocky asks, the audio output effectively conveying the anxiety in his tone.

You open your mouth to reply, but Ryland beats you to it. “Oh, we’ve got enough food to last us at least a year. Probably a couple more if we stretch it out.”

“So, you die, question?”

The forming pit in your stomach grows as Ryland replies. “Yeah, once we’re done… the two of us will die.”

Rocky steps further down his xenonite tunnel to be closer to you and softly says your name. “Grace lying, question? You die, question?”

You put down the xenonite chain you were constructing and sigh. “He’s telling the truth, Rocky. When we finish the mission, Grace and I will die.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rocky asks, stepping side to side.

Ryland shares an uneasy look with you and shrugs. “It must’ve slipped our minds.”

“No,” Rocky stomps his claws on the bottom of his xenonite tunnel. “You say you go home.”

Ryland strides forward to the end of the lab where you and Rocky are, and leans forward so his hands are on his knees. 

“Listen,” Ryland says over Rocky’s protests. “Listen. I got to meet you—we got to meet you. We got to do all this amazing stuff. We’re good. I’ve made peace with it.”

You remember the conversation you had days ago, where you said something along those lines. You nod. “Grace and I knew what we signed up for. We both made peace with it a long time ago.”

“What mean?” Rocky stomps one of his legs petulantly. “What mean make peace?”

“It means…” Ryland replies, glancing around the room as if it will provide answers. “I know I’m not going home, I know why, and it’s okay.”

Rocky’s carapace lowers as Ryland continues. “Thumbs up?”

“No.”

“Tiny thumbs up?”

“No.” Rocky stomps his leg again. 

“We’ve got stars to save,” Ryland responds, and you can hear him holding back tears.

Rocky softly says your and Grace’s names. “You are ♫♫♪,” this is the first time in days that the translation software has been unable to translate a new word. “Need word.”

You speak up. “What word do you need, Rocky?”

“To risk self to help another,” Rocky replies slowly, clearly thinking through his explanation.

Ryland doesn’t miss a beat. “Dumb?”

Rocky calls Ryland’s name while you watch him walk to the laptop perched next to you and type code into the translation software. As he steps away to stare at one of the screens that shows a live feed of Adrian, you see that he typed “brave.”

You walk forward and stand next to Ryalnd. Seeing the tears welling in his eyes as he continues to stare at the image of Adrian, you place a comforting hand on his arm. Upon feeling your touch, Ryland wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you can tell it’s as much for your benefit as his. You faintly note that his arm provides the same steadying warmth as he did days ago when he nearly kissed you.

“How much Astrophage you need, question?” Rocky suddenly says, prompting you to look over your shoulder.

You don’t have to think before answering. “Just over 2 million kilograms.”

Rocky clicks his claws together. “I can give.” Ryland’s arm drops from your shoulders and you turn around. “I go home six years slower.”

“That’s too much,” Ryland responds quietly, turning his head.

“Rocky watch crew die,” the Eridian replies, moving closer in his xenonite tunnel. “Could not fix. You say you will die. Rocky fix.”

Ryland turns full around, revealing tear-stained cheeks. 

“Rocky…” you say softly, feeling a tear slip from the corner of your eye as Rocky’s suggestion begins to hit you. You stumble back and take a wobbly seat on one of the lab’s chairs.

Rocky says your and Grace’s names. “You go home.”

Ryland takes a shuddering breath and nods. He pulls up a chair next to you and brings a hand to his face, letting tears flow freely down his face. You reach out and take one of his hands into your own as the gravity of Rocky’s offer fully sinks in.

You can go home. For the first time since waking up lightyears away from Earth, your life no longer has a looming end date. You thought you had accepted you were going to die—the memories you’ve regained so far certainly seem to indicate you knew what you were signing up for. But now it feels like a door you never even knew was there has suddenly opened, revealing a realm of possibilities that previously felt out of reach.

Rocky clicks inquisitively. “I thought you made peace, question?”

“I didn’t mean any of that,” Ryland replies instantly, provoking a watery laugh from you as you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “That’s just something you say.”

“Thank you,” you say after a moment, and Ryland echoes your words. “What you’re offering—words can’t describe what you’re doing for us.”

Ryland strides forward, kneels, and wraps his arms around the outcropping of the xenonite tunnel where Rocky stands.

“What? What’s happening?” Rocky shifts anxiously.

Ryland presses his face against the xenonite. “A hug.”

You smile and follow Ryland, hugging the xenonite with one arm and Ryland with the other. “A group hug.” As Rocky clicks his claws nervously, you continue. “Usually, the person being hugged hugs back.”

Rocky lets out a chirp of surprise. “Wait, I do the same?”

“Would you just get in here?” Ryland sighs impatiently.

Rocky leans toward you and Ryland and thumps his carapace against the xenonite barrier. Even though you can’t feel him, the knowledge that he’s on the other side is comforting.

You eventually decide to spare Rocky from the hug that he is clearly uneasy about and pull away from the hug. Ryland subsequently does the same. 

Standing up, you both stare at each other for a few seconds before Ryland pulls you into his arms. You reach a hand out and brush the tears from his cheeks.

“We can go home,” you whisper to him.

Ryland nods and gives you a soft smile. “We aren’t going to die… we—we have a future.”

A future.

You can make decisions with the knowledge that there won’t be an end—at least not an end within the next year, as it previously seemed. Isn’t that what has made you hesitate with Ryland? 

You nod, and your heart begins to race. “We can have a future… together.”

His grip on your waist tightens and his eyes flicker down to your lips. “Together.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but all you know is that the next second, Ryland’s lips meet yours in a searing kiss. His lips are surprisingly soft and insistent, causing a warmth to blossom in your chest. One of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer.

Before long, you slowly pull away to regain your breath. Leaning your forehead against Ryland’s, his eyes meet yours and a soft laugh escapes both your lips. You can almost feel Rocky watching you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As your heart begins to slow, Ryland presses a soft kiss to your forehead and pulls back so he can look at you fully.

You smile. “Together.”

You kept thinking about your conversation with Andrea for the rest of the day. 

Where we want to go and with who.

The words bounced around your head, popping up any time you had a moment to breathe.

With who.

A light drizzle fell around you as you strolled through the temporary shelters constructed near the Baikonur Cosmodrome. It was a warm spring night, but your Project Hail Mary issued coat barely protected you from the icy cold rain. You pulled your coat tighter as the rain began to fall more heavily.

With who.

A voice calling out your name suddenly brought you out of your thoughts. Turning around, you saw Ryland peeking out the doorway of one of the small mobile homes.

“What are you doing out here?” Ryland called out and waved a hand to usher you to him. “The rain’s going to pick up soon.”

With who.

After a moment’s hesitation, you changed directions and entered Ryland’s assigned mobile home. It was cramped, the space primarily being taken up by a table covered in papers and the bed tucked into the corner. Although it was small, part of you envied him for not having to share it with anyone else, like you had to share yours with Andrea.

“I didn’t see you at dinner,” Ryland said, taking your coat and hanging it on a hook by the door.

You shrugged. “I got caught up in work and had a late dinner.”

Looking around, you realized that the only chair was occupied by an alarmingly tall stack of notebooks and important-looking documents. 

Ryland seemed to realize this at the same time as you and ushered you to sit next to him on the bed. “Sorry about the mess, but if I move anything, I have a feeling I’ll never be able to find it again.”

You smiled at his explanation and sat down on the edge of the stiff mattress. “I get it, everything is hectic right now.”

Ryland stared at you for a few moments. “Are you okay? You seem kind of lost in thought.”

With who.

“I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you replied with a shrug.

“Care to share with the class?”

You sighed. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do after the launch?”

Ryland’s eyebrows raised, clearly taken aback by the question. “Go back to San Francisco, I guess,” He said with a shrug. “See if there’s still a job for me at the school I taught at. If not, I guess I’ll apply to other middle schools in the area.”

His answer surprised you. Due to his now expertise in Astrophage, you would’ve thought he’d want to keep doing research. “You won’t go back to academia?”

“I think that’s more your calling than mine,” Ryland replied, his eyes becoming contemplative. “I like teaching kids. They’re so hopeful about the world and see everything through different eyes. By teaching them, I can encourage their curiosity.” He straightened as if remembering himself. “Why do you ask?”

With who.

“I’ve just been thinking about a conversation I had with Andrea earlier.” You stood up and began to leisurely pace in the limited space between the bed, table, and kitchenette. “She asked me what plans are for after the launch—you know, since it’s basically certain that DuBois and Annie will be the scientists for the crew.”

Ryland shifted in his spot on the bed. “And what did you say?”

With who.

“I said I didn’t know,” you responded and stopped pacing. “But it got me thinking about what I want from my life now that I know I won’t die on a space mission.” You turned to face him, and your eyes met Ryland’s. “But I am realizing that as much as I don’t know exactly where I’ll go, I’m pretty sure I know who I want at my side while I figure it out.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And who would that be?”

You felt the corners of your lips tug upward. “Just a guy I know. He’s a bit dorky at times, but he makes me laugh and keeps me grounded when I get caught up in my own thoughts.”

A crooked smile spread across Ryland’s face, and he tentatively stood up. “Sounds like quite the catch.”

Your smile shifted to match his. “Yeah, he’s pretty great, even if all he wears are t-shirts with science puns.”

Ryland chuckled and he took a step closer to you. “I’ll have you know I also have a shirt of a cat hanging from the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Who said I was talking about you?” You said, dropping your smile. Ryland’s eyes widened and his body tensed. You rolled your eyes and smiled again. “Of course I’m talking to you, you big doofus.”

Ryland’s shoulders relaxed. “I thought we made a deal that either we’re both idiots or neither of us is.” You laughed, and he took another step forward, nearly closing the distance between you and his eyes softening. “It’s always been you. It took me a while to realize, but I was scared that you didn’t feel the same.”

“I think I was scared, too,” you admitted. “Scared that I’d be sent on the mission and then I’d have to say goodbye to you. But I’m not scared anymore.”

As you talked, your faces had moved steadily closer so they were now only a few inches apart. Ryland’s eyes were warm as he looked steadily into yours. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell between you. In lieu of answering, you leaned forward and captured his lips in a soft kiss. 

The first touch of your lips was soft and tentative, lighting a spark in your chest. Ryland cupped your cheek and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. As his other hand settled at your waist, one of his fingers grazed your skin in the space between your shirt and pants. His touch sent a thrill down your spine, causing your breath to hitch, and Ryland used your parted mouth to slip his tongue inside. 

Your kiss settled into an easy rhythm, as if you were always meant to be this way. His lips and tongue were gentle, reminding you of the quiet moments you shared together. You both pulled back from the kiss to catch your breaths and saw Ryland’s dilated pupils and slightly askew glasses. You stared at each other, interrupted only by the rain pattering against the windows, making the space between you feel like its own world. 

After a moment, Ryland leaned forward again, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that was more passionate than the last. He pulled his body against yours, causing you to take a half step backward so your back was pressed against the wall. You reached up to tangle your hands in his hair while his hands returned to your waist, teasing the exposed skin where your shirt rode up. His touch was hesitant until you reached down and guided his hand firmly under your shirt, allowing you to feel the calluses along his fingertips. You heard him mumble something against your lips. 

“What?” You said in a breathless whisper, only pulling away long enough to speak.

Ryland pressed feathery kisses to your lips so he could mumble his response. “I said… I’ve been waiting… so long to do this.”

You pulled back from the kiss and smiled, feeling your heart soaring. “Then stop waiting. Take me to bed.”

Ryland turns the scanner so Rocky can view it through his camera. “It’s the same amount, both coming and going.”

“But if Astrophage go to Adrian to breed,” Rocky replies, “There should be more leaving.”

You nod your head. “You’re right, there should be double the amount of Astrophage leaving from Adrian.”

“It’s either not reproducing, or it’s not leaving the planet, for some reason.” Ryland finishes for you as he continues to frown at the samples.

After a few moments, Ryland takes the sample of the Astrophage that was leaving Adrian and transfers it to a petri dish under a microscope. The ease with which he adjusts the microscope’s magnification reminds you how thankful you are of his scientific expertise.

“Oh my god,” Ryland gasps, his eyes still pressed to the microscope’s eyepieces.

“What?” Rocky calls from his xenonite tunnel, shifting back and forth, “What Grace see? What Grace see, question?”

Ryland steps away from the microscope and lets you look instead. As you fiddle with the controls to adjust it to your eyesight, the microscope focuses just as Ryland speaks. 

“Life.”

You hear Ryland moving around next to you, and a series of chirps from Rocky that you have come to learn are the equivalent of a gasp. Meanwhile, you stare in shock at the dozens of microscopic cells swimming in the petri dish.

“This is not just Astrophage,” Ryland says, prompting you to pull away from the microscope to see Ryland showing Rocky an enlarged version of the microscope’s display. “It’s bacteria, it’s protozoa.”

“It’s like cells on Erid,” Rocky replies.

“And Earth,” You chime in.

Rocky makes an anxious hum. “What this mean, question?”

“Well,” Ryland responds slowly, clearly thinking through his answer. “If there’s a whole active biosphere in the Petrova Line, it stands to reason there’s a whole active biosphere on Andrian, which means…”

You gasp, realizing what he is trying to say. “There’s life on Adrian!”

If the situation weren’t so shocking, you would laugh at seeing Rocky drop his camera. Instead, you turn back to the petri dish amplification on the screen, trying to think of what types of cells you can recognize as being similar to Earth’s.

Rocky suddenly lets out a shrill screech. “Life! Life is reason!”

“Yeah, you said it, buddy,” Ryland replies, continuing to stare at the screen.

“No, no understand.” You turn back to Rocky and are surprised to see him pounding a claw against the xenonite barrier. “No understand. Life is reason!”

Your heart begins to race at Rocky’s distress, and you prod Ryland to turn around. “What do you mean, Rocky?” You ask, stepping closer to Rocky’s tunnel.

Rocky lets out the Eridian equivalent of a groan of frustration and moves further down the tunnel. “Life is reason. Life is reason!”

While you concentrate on what Rocky could mean, Ryland leans closer to Rocky. “What? Life is reason, what?”

The repeated phrase makes goosebumps spread across your body as you begin to suspect what Rocky is trying to say.

“Life on Adrian is reason Astrophage in balance,” Rocky states, finally ceasing his anxious fidgeting. “Life on Adrian makes Astrophage die!”

“Like a predator,” Ryland whispers and the implications fully hit you.

Astrophage has a predator on Adrian!

You nod. “A predator would keep the population stable.” 

“If we bring predator home,” Rocky replies. “Our stars not die.”

Ryland’s eyes widen. “Life is reason star not die. Why didn’t you just say that!”

The tension in the room lifts. “We have a solution!” You say with a laugh.

Ryland straightens and turns to you. “This is how we save Earth and Erid.”

His bright smile makes your heart lighten, and you step forward and throw your arms around Ryland’s neck. He lets out a quiet oof, but his arms quickly wrap around your waist. In a swift move, he spins you around with a breathless laugh.

After a few moments, you lean slightly back and realize Ryland’s smile matches your own, and a light blush dusts his cheeks. Without thinking, you press closer and peck his cheek with a soft kiss. Your lips touch his cheek for a second, but something nudges at the back of your mind and—

You were not avoiding Ryland.

Sure, you signed up to leave early for the Johnson Space Center two days after Karaoke Night. And sure, since Ryland had arrived two weeks ago, you had volunteered to do flight simulations during the scheduled science crew’s Astrophage lessons. And yes, you did walk up six flights of stairs when you saw that Ryland was standing next to an elevator you needed to get to.

But you were not avoiding him. 

A month after you last saw Ryland, your paths finally coincided when you took a late-night walk around the Space Center’s campus.

“Funny seeing you here,” Ryland called out from a bench near the building where several members of Project Hail Mary, including you, were staying.

Despite the spike of anxiety from seeing him, you couldn’t help but smile at the cheerful wave he sent you. Taking a deep breath, you closed the distance between you and sat next to him.

Sending him an awkward smile, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Come here often?”

You instantly cringed, but Ryland’s short laugh indicated he didn’t mind. “Lately, yes.” He gave you a sideways glance. “Not that I’ve seen you around.”

“Well, things have been hectic,” you replied with a forced laugh. “I never expected I’d actually like the rush I get from doing flight simulations.”

Ryland nodded. “Yeah, Stratt has me doing a lot of tests over at the Neutral Buoyancy Lab. What’s the point of having me as her personal science lapdog if she can’t use me to test out new equipment?”

You felt yourself relax a fraction. “You’ll have to tell me the next time you get sent underwater for a test. I might just have to get some pictures.”

Ryland shifted in his seat. “You know, I tried to tell you a couple of times,” He responded with a carefully casual tone. “But every time I went to see you, someone would tell me you left less than a minute earlier.”

You forced a smile. “What a funny coincidence.”

“There’s a saying about coincidences, you know,” Ryland replied, maintaining the same careful tone. “They say once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern.”

“And what would the pattern mean?” You asked, your shoulders tensing.

“That maybe… you’re avoiding me?”

You were not avoiding him.

Well… maybe you were.

After several moments of silence, you finally spoke. “And if I were?”

Ryland shifted his body so he was fully facing you. Reluctantly, you did the same.

“If you were avoiding me,” Ryland responded slowly, “I’d say that’s pretty crazy because you’re probably my best friend.”

The concern in his eyes made your shoulders drop. “Well, there may be a chance… that I was maybe, somewhat… avoiding you.”

Ryland stared at you. “Why?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why were you avoiding him? What was it about Karaoke Night that made you start to feel a certain way about—

“I was embarrassed,” you blurted out in an effort to stop your spiraling thoughts.

“Why?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, I was such an idiot at Karaoke Night. I let Ilyukhina give me way too many shots and Andrea was so excited and I got all emotional and weird and I was so—” 

Ryland silenced your rambling by placing his hand on yours. You mumbled another apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he replied. “I get it. The way things ended the other night between us was…”

You waited for him to finish, but he never did. Instead, he stared blankly at your joined hands.

What did he mean? Was he trying to say that you and him… 

“You’re my best friend too,” you finally said after several moments, prompting him to look up. There was so much more you could add (you make me feel—what if I’m sent—we could be—) “We have a good thing going—despite me being an idiot. I don’t want things to change.”

Ryland seemed to mouth the word ‘change’ before giving you a crooked smile. “In any case, I’m the idiot since I kept procrastinating on confronting you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Idiot says Mr. World’s Leading Expert on Astrophage.”

Just as planned, Ryland snorted at the title you always used to mock him. “How about we call it even and say if I’m not an idiot, then neither are you.”

“Deal,” you replied and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Pulling back, you saw a light blush dusting his cheeks and a soft smile across his face.

“Now come on,” You said, standing up from the bench. “We should get to sleep. I heard there’s an Astrophage lesson bright and early tomorrow morning.”

The rest of the memory slips away, and you realize Ryland is still holding you close, his hands a steadying presence at your waist. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean forward and press a second kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

Pulling back, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a dumbstruck look. His glasses begin to slip down his nose, adding to his appearance that you can only describe as endearing. His expression slowly shifts into a nervous smile and he inclines his face toward yours. A second later, his eyes flutter closed as his lips ghost over yours and—

You quickly step out of the hug, your heart racing as you realize what nearly occurred. You turn to see Rocky staring at you—or as close to staring as Eridians can get. You smile brightly. “Who’s ready to start planning?”

The reminder makes your stomach drop, and you shake your head. “He seems so excited.”

Ryland nods slowly. “When he talks about us all going home… I almost forget sometimes.”

“I do too,” you admit. “I remember agreeing to the mission, and I think I’ve made peace with never going home, but it’s… a fun fantasy to entertain.”

“We’re going to have to tell Rocky eventually,” Ryland replies. “I mean, it’s not like we can just wave goodbye at him when we’re all done and pretend we’re powering up the ship to go home.”

The mental image makes you grin. “We could tell him not to peek and just hide behind a planet.”

Humor dances in Ryland’s eyes. “If Rocky asks why we’re not flying in the direction of our solar system, we can just say we’re taking a shortcut.”

You smile back at him for a few moments before the reality of the situation sinks back in. “When do we tell him the truth?” 

Ryland shrugs. “I guess whenever we can’t keep deflecting anymore.”

You were just finishing the closing notes of a reluctant karaoke duet with Andrea when you saw Ryland slip back into the lounge and return to his spot at the bar.

The group closest to the impromptu karaoke stage erupted in cheers as the song ended, and you gave a half-hearted bow at Andrea’s behest. Your cheeks flushed, caused by embarrassment from people’s enthusiasm and the several shots of vodka Ilyukhina had goaded you into drinking. As an engineer from Dimitri’s team took the karaoke mic, you dodged Ilyukhina’s attempts to shove another shot into your hand and crossed the room to join Ryland at the bar.

“Ryland!” You called out as you plopped down on the barstool next to his. “Are you seriously working right now?”

Ryland looked up from the stack of papers and notebooks he was reading and smiled timidly. “Maybe?”

You leaned forward and snapped closed the notebook he was taking notes in. Ignoring his yelp of protest, you spoke over him. “Not only are you working during our inaugural Karaoke Night, but you missed my duet with Andrea!”

“Oh, the shame of missing Karaoke Night!” Ryland exclaimed sarcastically, prompting a round of laughter from you.

You shoved his shoulder playfully, the alcohol coursing through your system making you feel light and joyful. “You say that now, but Ilyukhina is trying to convince DuBois to do a duet with Annie.”

Ryland’s smile widened. “We need to make sure someone gets that on camera.”

The mischief in his eyes prompted a fluttering in your stomach, and your cheeks flushed in a way that felt different than the alcohol. You opened your mouth to reply, but realized that Ryland was staring at something over your shoulder. You turned around to see Stratt holding the karaoke microphone.

“Just stop your crying, it’s a sign of the times,” Stratt sang in a soft voice that caught you by surprise. Around you, the whole lounge had quieted and turned to watch the woman who was arguably in control of the fate of humanity flawlessly sing.

While Stratt sang the chorus and everyone cheered, you turned to Ryland, expecting him to match your awestruck smile. Instead, you saw him rest his face against his hand and watch Stratt with rapt attention. Ryland’s eyes were warm, and a soft smile played across his lips.

“Remember, everything will be alright,” Stratt sang as the song began to wind down. She made eye contact with Ryland and an unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. 

You suddenly felt a pit form in your stomach as Stratt sang the closing lines of the song while holding Ryland’s gaze. You nearly startled when everyone cheered as Stratt made a swift exit, and you forced a smile when she passed by.

The room quickly returned to its prior noise level as everyone gushed about Stratt’s singing and speculated on why she decided to join. You remained silent, and the inexplicable knot in your stomach suddenly made you wish you had accepted the shot Ilyukhina offered you a few minutes ago.

“That was unexpected,” Ryland said excitedly, drawing your attention back to him. “Who’d have thought Stratt was such a good singer?”

You tried to match his smile. “Yeah, that isn’t a common go-to karaoke song.”

Ryland’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You replied quickly, realizing you unsuccessfully masked your lack of enthusiasm.

“You tell me,” Ryland replied, his smile turning into a frown. “You seem… off.”

His earnest concern loosened the knot in your stomach by a fraction, and you gave him a more sincere smile. “I think the vodka is just getting me. I should probably just call it a night.”

You stood up and Ryland instantly followed suit. “I’ll walk you back to your room.” The tone of his voice made you suspect he didn’t fully believe you, but you waited for him to gather his papers and notebooks before letting him lead you out of the lounge.

The walk to the room you shared with Andrea was short, and you reached your destination within a few minutes. During the walk, Ryland had tried to start a conversation but you had simply replied with noncommittal hums.

“Well, this is me,” you stated, fishing out your room key from your pocket. As you reached forward to put the key in the door’s keyhole, Ryland softly grabbed your hand.

“Wait,” he said, lowering your hand but maintaining his hold of it. “Something’s clearly wrong.”

You briefly met his gaze, then looked downward. “I’m fine.”

Ryland shook his head. “I think I know you well enough by now to know that isn’t true.” He took a step closer to you before continuing. “You did a 180 after Stratt sang.”

His words made the image of Stratt and Ryland wordlessly communicating flash through your mind. Part of you wanted to brush off his concerns, but upon looking up and seeing his worried frown, you decided against it. You bit your lip and shrugged. “I didn’t realize you and Stratt had gotten close.”

Ryland’s eyebrow shot up, evidently surprised. “Close is an overstatement,” he replied and rubbed circles into your hand with his thumb. “It’s probably more accurate to say we’ve… reached an understanding.”

In the back of your mind, you remembered that during your first several weeks aboard the ship, there had been a rumor about Stratt and Ryland. You had brushed it off at the time as mindless gossip, but now… “I just hear things, I guess.”

“Hear what things?”

You shrugged. “Andrea has an ear to the ground about all the gossip here and she told me there was a rumor that you and Stratt are…” Ryland stared at you, uncomprehending, forcing you to continue. “You know, hooking up.”

You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Ryland’s horrified expression. “Me—Stratt—hooking up—rumor—what?” Ryland had let go of your hand to run it through his hair, making the strands stand up in awkward angles. 

The knot in your stomach loosened upon seeing his confusion and dismay and you patted his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I think that rumor stopped being spread around months ago.” Your words and touch seemed to reassure him and his shoulders relaxed. “The gossip mill gets bored when there isn’t any evidence to feed an old rumor.”

Ryland shook his head and he stared intently into your eyes. “I swear nothing has ever happened between us. It was only a couple of weeks ago that I stopped being scared of Stratt.”

The earnestness in his voice made you smile. “I believe you,” you admitted softly.

He took a step forward and tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. You expected him to remove his hand, but he kept it resting against your cheek. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

You wanted to look downward, but the intensity in his eyes stopped you. Instead, you simply shrugged. “I guess I sometimes forget I’m not your only friend here.”

Something in his eyes flickered at your words and he seemed to lean further forward. “You’re the one I’m closest with.”

A heat spread to your cheeks that you knew you couldn’t write off as the vodka from earlier. You suddenly realized your face was inches away from Ryland’s and it would be so easy to lean further forward and—

A burst of laughter down the hall made you jump and interrupted your line of thought. You took a step back and Ryland did the same. You smiled stiffly at the trio of doctors from Dr. Lamai’s team as they walked past you and disappeared around a corner at the other end of the hallway.

“Well, I should probably let you get some sleep,” Ryland said, clearing his throat and avoiding your gaze.

You could recognize an exit opportunity when you saw one. You faked a yawn. “Yeah, the vodka is definitely going to hit me tomorrow, so I should probably get a good night’s sleep.”

You quickly unlocked your door and shuffled in. Hurrying inside, you sent Ryland an awkward wave before slamming the door closed. 

“What about you Rocky,” Ryland says. “What do you miss the most about home?”

You, Ryland, and Rocky are sitting together after watching videos from Earth from The Hail Mary’s seemingly endless video catalog.

Rocky thinks over the question. “My mate,” the computer’s voice translates.

“Your mate?” You blurt out and sit up straighter.

Meanwhile, Ryland quickly turns around from leaning against Rocky’s xenonite ball. “Wait, you have a mate?”

“... Yes,” Rocky replies, and you faintly note that Ryland’s continuous fiddling with the translation software now allows Rocky to convey his confused tone.

“I mean not that you—I mean, I’m sure—” Ryland rambled and you bit back a smile watching him realize the hole he dug himself into.

“I think what Ryland is trying to say,” you cut in, “Is what’s your mate’s name?”

“Name is ♫♫♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♫♩” Rocky replies and you smile at the passion he conveys through his body language.

“It’s beautiful,” Ryland says once Rocky finishes, and you nod in agreement.

Rocky seems pleased with your responses. “You have mates, question?”

You see Ryland’s eyes widen and lean forward to turn Rocky’s attention to you. “No, signing up to go on an interstellar space mission doesn’t leave much time for dating.” 

“Years ago, I did,” Ryland admits after a moment and your attention snaps back to him. “But she thought I had my head in the clouds and I didn’t really want to live in the real world. She was right.”

Ryland gave Rocky a bittersweet smile, and a part of you whispered that Ryland’s daydreaming tendencies lead to the creativity you greatly respect about him.

“And now,” Ryland surprises you by continuing. “Relationships are probably more… complicated.”

Ryland’s contemplative gaze meets yours and you feel your heart skip a few beats. Had he regained the memory of your talk after Stratt’s song? Did he remember something else?

“Understand,” Rocky states simply, drawing your attention away.

“But enough about us,” Ryland says and turns to look at Rocky. “You have a mate. How long have you been together?”

Rocky stood taller in the Eridian equivalent of puffing out his chest. “186.3 years.”

“Like the honeymoon phase,” Ryland replies, prompting a burst of laughter from you.

“No understand.”

“It’s a joke, Rocky,” you say, stopping Rocky’s imminent rambling of confusing human idioms. 

Meanwhile, Ryland smiles. “That’s a long time, you’ve been together a long time.”

Rocky hovers one claw over a carving on one of his legs. “It’s not enough.”

The container smoothly unfolds, revealing a pile of papers, pictures, and small objects. At the top is a baseball cap with the Project Hail Mary logo, and below are several shirts and pants you instinctively recognize as your favorites

Below is a card with a drawing of people waving at a sailboat and the words “bon voyage” neatly printed at the top. The inside of the card has dozens of signatures, each accompanied by a short message wishing you luck on The Hail Mary. Skimming the names, you realize these are students and faculty from your short-lived time as an astronomy professor. The realization makes you smile as you continue sorting through the contents. 

There are over a dozen pictures of friends and family whose faces are familiar, even if you still can’t quite place your exact connection to some of them. Their smiling faces and well-wishes scribbled on the back make tears threaten to form.

Blinking the tears back, you pick up the last picture in the pile. Letting out a small gasp, you see it’s a picture of you and Ryland sitting at the bar on Statt’s Vat. In the picture, you’re clinking glasses full of beer, and you have matching relaxed smiles, both of your cheeks flushed—from the alcohol or something else is unclear.

Flipping the picture over, you see a note written in Ryland’s now familiar handwriting: “If you’re as smart up there as you are down here, there’s nothing to worry about. I believe in you. —Ryland”

You trace the words with your fingers and feel a memory nudging at the back of your mind. Closing your eyes, you let it overtake you.

“Rise and shine!” You called out, entering the nearly empty biology lab aboard Stratt’s Vat. The lights were at full brightness, illuminating Grace’s solitary, slumped figure at his desk.

He looked up from his laptop and gave you a tired smile. “It’s nighttime.”

You shrugged at his words and strode forward to his desk. “Considering you look half asleep, it felt accurate.”

“Fair enough,” Grace replied, mirroring your shrug. “What brings you to my humble lab?”

You decided not to point out the state-of-the-art equipment surrounding you. Instead, you placed the picture you had held behind your back onto the table. Grace leaned forward to look at the picture Andrea took last week of the two of you at the lounge’s bar.

Grace smiled down at the picture. “A gift for me?”

“Actually,” you answered, picking up a pencil from the stack of writing utensils on Grace’s desk. “It’s a request. I’ve been collecting goodbye messages from people.”

Grace’s smile turned into a frown. “Goodbye messages?”

“Stratt’s having the prime and backup crews build our care packages,” you responded. Seeing the still confused look on his face, you continued. “You know, for when or if we end up being on the crew that goes on the mission.”

Comprehension dawned on Grace’s face. “Like asking people to write your eulogies before you die?”

You winced. “That’s not exactly how I would’ve put it, but it’s not inaccurate, I guess.”

Grace took the pencil you handed him and frowned. “So I… do what? Say goodbye to you?” 

“Pretty much,” you replied with a shrug. “I guess whatever you think would be reassuring if I go on the mission.”

Grace stared at the blank backside of the picture for a few moments before turning back to you. “You seem weirdly calm about this.”

You sighed and pulled up a chair from another desk. “I guess I’ve gotten good at compartmentalizing,” you stated, sitting down.

Picking up the pencil, Grace wrote a few words on the picture, but angled it so you couldn’t read them. He sighed, his eyes darting nervously. “We’ve never really talked about it. I mean, there’s a chance you’ll go on the mission and…”

He trailed off, but you could almost hear the rest of his sentence. And die there.

“I try not to think about it too much,” you replied, aware of the lump in your throat. “If I focus on the science and training, the rest can just fade into the background.”

“What made you decide to volunteer?” Grace asked, taking off his glasses. 

“There’s two levels to that answer,” you stated after contemplating his question for a few moments. “The university I was at encouraged everyone in any science-related discipline to apply. It’s good PR for the university, you know?” Grace nodded. “And I figured the alternative is just, what? Waiting around for Astrophage to destroy the planet? At least here I have a chance to help make a change.”

Grace sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”

You raised an eyebrow and gave him a small smile. “What? I make going on an interstellar mission sound easy?”

“I meant volunteering to die,” His words and frown made your smile drop. “That takes more bravery than I could ever dream of having.”

You studied Grace’s slumped shoulders and realized he had been thinking about this for a while. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached forward to where Grace rested one of his hands on the desk and placed your hand on top of Grace’s. His eyes instantly darted up to meet yours.

“I think you’re braver than you give yourself credit for,” you replied, faintly taking note of the tingling you felt where your hands touched. “Besides, something would need to happen to DuBois or Annie for me to go. And with smart people like you on the team, that feels less likely each day.”

Grace smiled softly. You could see his urge to brush off the compliment, but the sincerity in your voice must have silenced him. Instead, he handed you the picture he had now signed.

You quickly read his message and noted that he had written his first name instead of his typical use of his last name. “Ryland, huh?”

“I think we’ve been friends long enough that we should be on a first name basis, right?” He replied with a shrug.

“I think I can be alright with that,” you replied, smiling at Ryland.

You sigh as the rest of the memory slips through your fingers. Some of your memories had felt distant, as if they happened to another person, but you can still feel the sensation of Ryland’s hand in yours. You faintly wonder if Ryland has recovered this memory.

The thought draws your attention to the other storage container labeled with Ryland’s name. After a moment’s hesitation, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you unfold the container.

It is noticeably emptier than yours. Based on Ryland’s rotating collection of science-based shirts, some of the emptiness can perhaps be attributed to that, but it still feels strange. Unlike your container that held a vast collection of pictures and cards from well-wishers, Ryland’s only mementos are two pictures. 

The first picture is a polaroid of him posing in front of the Atrophage breeder tanks on Stratt’s Vat. You smile softly when you realize the second picture is a candid of you and Ryland engaged in conversation in a far corner of the lounge on Stratt’s Vat. The room looks crowded, and your faces are close together, as if needing to be close to hear each other over the noise.

You flip the picture over and are surprised to see it’s blank. All of the pictures in your container had messages, but this one is blank.

“What are you up to?” 

You jump in surprise at the words. Turning around, you see Ryland finishing climbing down the ladder that leads to the dormitory. He has a calm but inquisitive smile as he strides toward you.

Although you instinctively want to hide the fact that you were going through his belongings, you know he has already seen you. “Hope you don’t mind, but I was just curious about what we brought along.”

Ryland sits down on the ground next to you. “You’re fine. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look through yours before you woke up.” He eyes the considerably larger pile of pictures and cards in your storage container. “It looks like you had a lot of well-wishers back home.”

The thought makes you smile sadly. “Too bad I don’t fully remember most of them.” Taking a deep breath, you try to force the sadness away. “I am flattered that the only other picture you brought is with me.”

“You caught me,” Ryland replies with a chuckle. “Not that I have any memory of packing it, but I think we were… friends.”

This time, a true smile tugs at your lips. “I think we were… or should I say are?”

Ryland picks up the picture of the two of you from your storage container. “Too bad we’re fresh out of beer, though.”

You laugh, but the reminder of the picture and Ryland’s accompanying message tugs at the back of your mind. “Do you wonder what happened for us both to end up here?”

“Constantly,” Ryland responds instantly. “You were the lead scientist of the backup crew, but me? Something must have happened to all the others for both of us to be sent.”

Ryland’s voice has turned dejected, and you remember that Ryland had previously doubted his courage.

“You must’ve been really brave,” you reply, and Ryland ducks his head bashfully. “The rest of us trained for months but you must’ve joined closer to the launch date. And yet you still volunteered to come.”

“I haven’t felt particularly brave,” Ryland admits in a quiet voice.

Channeling courage from your recently regained memory, you reach forward and place your hand on top of Ryland’s where he rests it on his knee. He sucks in a deep breath and rotates his wrist so your hands interlock. The sensation of your connected hands feels achingly familiar.

With your spare hand, you flip over the picture Ryland holds and show him the message. “You believed in me. Maybe it’s time to start believing in yourself.”

His words make you pause. An hour ago, he had declared he was taking a nap and had assented to you continuing to build the dictionary with Rocky. Based on the spring in his step as he reaches you, his nap was restful

You hold up your hands at his objection. “We’re in space! It could come up.”

Ryland smiles at you. “How about we focus on the main reason we’re here.” He holds up a vial that contains a black substance and shows it to Rocky. “Recognize this?”

Rocky appears to recognize the substance and flinches. Whatever it is, it feels familiar, and you lean forward to look at it better. Meanwhile, Ryland continues, “We call it Astrophage. It means star eater.”

Astrophage. The name makes you tense and—

“—that’s how we breed Astrophage!” Grace explained, stepping back from the Astrophage breeder housed at the far end of the hangar bay where the labs were located. “Any questions?”

It was after dinnertime, so the lab only had a few people milling around as they finished their work for the day. Grace had offered to explain in more detail what his work at Stratt’s Vatt—apart from training the scientists for the Hail Mary mission—consisted of.

You contemplated the mini-lesson he gave you for a few moments before answering. “So, to recap, the elbow shape lets you control the direction of their movement and isolates the Astrophage that’s breeding from the ones that are feeding off the simulated sun.”

Grace gave you a bright smile. “Exactly! It took a couple of prototypes to get the length right, but it’s been working well since then.”

You silently appreciated Grace’s excitement. Now, several months into training, you missed the research you left behind. Learning about Astrophage helped, and Grace’s passion for the subject could be infectious at times.

At that moment, you glanced at a nearby clock and saw it was shortly after nine. Suddenly, an idea occurred to you. “Hey, you’ve gone to the new lounge they just built, right?”

As Grace took off his labcoat and hung it on a hook by the door, he replied. “You mean the one Ilyukhina and Andrea were campaigning for and printed out flyers to pressure Stratt?”

“That’s the one,” You said, laughing at his apt description. “People typically start showing up around nine. Want to stop by for a bit?”

Grace turned to you, his posture suddenly stiff. “Like right now?” He ran a hand through his hair. “With—with me?”

His sudden awkwardness made you smile. “No, with Yao.” His eyebrows furrowed, and you could tell he was seriously contemplating your answer. “Of course with you! Why else would I ask you?”

Grace opened his mouth, then proceeded to close it. After a moment, he straightened the non-existent wrinkles on his shirt. “Totally. Let’s—let’s go.”

With that, you followed him through the short walk to the recently transformed lounge. Within a few minutes of walking through the twists and turns of Stratt’s Vatt, you entered the lounge.

The lounge was in what you suspected to be one of the ship’s former barracks, with low ceilings and cheap wood paneling on one of the walls. There were already nearly a dozen people in the lounge, most of them sitting on the couches and nursing bottles of beer.

Strolling to the bar in the far corner of the room, you requested two beers from one of the navy officers assigned to man the bar that night. Thanking the man after he handed you the beers, you sat down at the bar and passed the second beer bottle to Grace.

“Thanks,” Grace replied, sitting on the stool next to you. “How’d you know I like beer?”

You should probably say something nonchalant, you thought to yourself. “I know that’s what you always get.”

Definitely not nonchalant.

Your cheeks flushed, but if Grace minded, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a drink of his beer, and you mirrored him. 

“So…” You said tentatively before trailing off.

Grace’s eyes met yours, and he smiled awkwardly. “So…?”

After a beat, a burst of laughter slipped through your lips. You covered your mouth with one hand to try to stop laughing.

Grace’s awkward smile shifted to amusement. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” You took a deep breath and willed yourself to stop laughing. “Why is this so awkward? We see each other almost every day.”

“I… don’t know,” Grace replied and took another sip of his beer. “I guess it’s because we’re usually in a boardroom or a lab. This is… different, I guess.”

You contemplated his answer. It was true that of the few times you had seen him in the lounge, you hadn’t really talked. Those times, you’d been absorbed in conversation with the members of the prime and backup crews. You had seen Grace sitting alone at the bar more than a handful of times, nursing a drink and working on his laptop, and had often been tempted to usher him to join the group. Yet, something had stopped you. Maybe it was because the lounge felt like its own small world, separate from the Hail Mary mission. In this separate world, you didn’t know how much you had in common with Stratt’s second in command.

“Tell me about yourself,” you prompted after a moment.

“What?”

“I guess… I know a fair amount about Dr. Ryland Grace, the world’s leading expert on Astrophage, ” you emphasized the last part and got an amused eyeroll out of him. “So, who were you before all of this? Before we even knew what Astrophage was?”

Grace wiped the condensation on his beer bottle. “A middle school science teacher, I guess.” A wistful smile tugged on his lips. “Grover Cleveland Middle School.”

You took a sip of your beer before replying. “You miss it, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” he sighed. “But when I was teaching, I sometimes missed the research side of things. I mean, getting to do all the Astrophage research I want in state-of-the-art labs? Who can say no to that?”

His words prompted you to remember something you had wanted to ask him for some time. You took a few sips of your beer, willing it to give you the courage. “I mean… I’ve heard you were doing pretty well in academia before you left.”

Grace let out a humorless laugh. “Pretty well until my career crashed and burned.” He picked at his beer bottle’s label. “But I’m getting the vibe that you’ve heard about that too.”

You shrugged. “Our fields don’t really interact much, but, between you and me, the biologists here are huge gossips.” That prompted a genuine laugh from him. You hesitated for a moment before continuing. “‘An Analysis of Water Based Assumptions,’ right?” Grace raised an eyebrow and you shrugged again. “I may or may not have googled it.”

“Good to know it’s still on Google Scholar,” Grace replied, removing his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “For such a widely hated paper, it has a surprisingly high number of citations.”

“I’ve heard it’s pretty controversial,” you admitted, staring at his slumped shoulders. “Why’d you write it?”

“Because I’m an idiot?”

You rolled your eyes. “You being where you are now is proof enough that’s not true.”

Grace threw his hands up in the air. “Because I was arrogant and riding on the high of landing a tenure-track job?” He signed, and his shoulders slumped further. “And I had the first truly original idea in my career and thought I could make a change in the field.”

“Now that I believe,” you replied. “And now you’re proving everyone wrong.”

His eyes met yours. “What do you mean? Astrophage is also water-based.”

“Even if Astrophage didn’t prove your paper right, you’re showing everyone they were wrong to underestimate you.”

“That’s an optimistic way to look at it,” Grace responded with a tired smile.

Something about his smile caused something to stir in your chest. “Maybe that’s how I see you.”

“Same,” Ryland says, bringing you back to the present and making you realize that you must have missed some of what Rocky said. 

Rocky and Ryland seem unaware that you had been lost in thought as Rocky spoke. “♫♪♩♬♫”

Glancing at the computer, you see the translation: “Rocky happy not alone.”

His statement makes your eyebrows furrow. “You’re alone?”

“♫♫♪♩♬♫♪♫” Rocky replies. The computer translates: “Was twenty-three Eridians on ship. Now only one.”

“23? Wow,” Ryland says, more or less voicing your thoughts. “What happened to them?”

You expect Rocky to explain, but he says a quick “♫♪” and lets himself fall to the ground. 

You’re confused by what he is trying to say until Ryland enters the translation into the computer program: “Died.”

“I’m so sorry,” you state softly.

After a moment, Ryland speaks up. “How did they die?”

This time, Rocky gives a longer explanation. “♩♬♫♪♫♩♬♪” 

The computer program provides a translation. “Rocky not know. Only Rocky not died. Rocky could not fix.”

Rocky speaks again. “♫♩♬” Another translation forms: “How many humans on ship, question?”

Your stomach drops at the question, and Grace removes his glasses to clean them with his shirt, a move you have begun to realize he does when he’s nervous. 

You begin to open your mouth to answer, but Grace beats you to it. “There were four of us, and two died on the way here,” He glances at you and says your name. “Now it’s just the two of us.”

“♩♬” Rocky says, and the computer generates a translation: “Now it three of us.”

“Sorry,” you replied with a shrug, “I didn’t realize you were so focused.”

Grace took off his glasses and set them down on the desk. Rubbing his eyes, turned back to you and gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Don’t be sorry, I should probably be more aware of my surroundings.”

Despite the humor in his voice, you could hear an undercurrent of exhaustion. “What are you doing here so late?”

“It’s not that late! It’s only…” Grace looked down at his watch and his eyes widened. “One a.m.! How did that happen?”

You couldn’t help but smile as he began to frantically organize the mess of papers on his desk. As he stacked a set of notebooks together, his elbow hit his glasses and set them toppling off the desk. Rushing forward, you caught them before they fell to the ground.

“Thanks,” Grace sighed as you handed him his glasses. “If these break, I don’t know how long it will be before we dock long enough for me to visit an optometrist.” He put his glasses back on and stared at you for a moment. “Wait, what are you still doing awake?”

Now it was your turn to give him a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “Whenever I can’t sleep, I walk around the ship for a bit.”

“Well, next time you’re walking around,” Grace replied, picking up his laptop and walking with you toward the door, “Feel free to stop by and remind me how late it is.”

Opening the door, you met his eyes and felt a warmth in your chest. “I might just take you up on that.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” you say as you help Grace move the lights mounted on stands into the airlock.

After Ryland’s second successful interaction with the Eridian, from which he returned smiling and helmetless, you mutually agreed that it was safe for both of you to go into the tunnel. But now that you were preparing to exit the airlock and go into the Eridian-made tunnel, you suddenly felt less sure about the safety of leaving the ship without an EVA suit.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Ryland replies, pulling the lever that closes the door separating the airlock from the rest of the ship. “You literally saw me come back in without a helmet on.”

Well, there’s no arguing with that. Nodding your head, you gave Ryland a hesitant smile, which he understood to mean he could open the exterior door. With the flip of a few switches, the door opens, and you follow Ryland into the tunnel.

“We’re here for the same reason,” Ryland calls out, already speeding ahead of you to the partition further down the tunnel. “You have a Petrova Line problem, too. You need to solve it, we need to solve it.”

You catch up to Ryland in time to see the alien he had struggled to describe. A part of you recoils as the Eridian lets out a string of what you can only describe as musical notes. It’s—his?—body resembles a spider, with five legs instead of two.

While you take deep breaths and remind yourself that making successful contact with the Eridian is important, Ryland seems unfazed and holds up one of the models the Eridian sent. “That’s why you gave me this.”

The Eridian spins around, the notes he lets out sounding almost excited. As you set up one of the mounted lamps to shine directly onto the Eridian side of the tunnel, the Eridian seems to catch sight of you and begins jumping up and down. He (it was easiest to use the pronoun Ryland had used in your conversations earlier) presses up against the transparent xenonite, as if to study you more closely.

“Hello!” You say hesitantly, waving at the Eridian and prompting him to let out another set of musical notes.

Next to you, Ryland smiles as he begins digging through one of the boxes he brought. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t mention I was bringing someone else.” He says your name, but it’s unclear if the Eridian even understands he’s introducing you. “If we’re going to save our planets, we have to learn how to communicate. They say math is the universal language, so maybe we can find out if that’s true.” With a flourish, Ryland pulls out a measuring tape. He pulls the end of the tape, “You see the numbers?”

A part of the xenonite divider juts out with a quiet rumble, revealing a drawer—no, an airlock! Ryland drops the tape measure into the drawer, and you lean forward in amazement just as Ryland jerks his hand back and you’re hit with a wave of heat and the strong smell of ammonia.

“Christmas Eve, it’s hot in there!” Ryland exclaims. 

You would laugh at Ryland’s humorous self-censorship if you weren’t so focused on watching the Eridian pull the end of the tape measure before letting it snap back. Instead, you keep your eyes trained on the alien and ask Ryland, “That was ammonia, right?”

“Probably,” Ryalnd replies before focusing back on the Eridian. “Look, see the numbers? They’re on the other side.”

As Ryland attempts to coach the alien, the Eridian continues playing with the tape measure. Soon enough, the Eridian starts testing how far he can extend the tape measure before letting it snap back.

Seeing Ryland’s frustrated expression, you step forward. “How about we try a different approach?” You reach into the box Ryland brought and pull out an analog clock. “See this? It’s a clock. We both must have ways of measuring time.” 

You slowly point out the numbers, but the Eridian remains focused on the tape measure. Your shoulders sag as you realize the alien is more focused on becoming entangled in the tape measure than anything you try to say. Turning back to Ryland, you realize he has picked up one of the lamps and is shining it around the Eridian’s side of the tunnel. 

“It’s dark,” Ryland comments and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. “Do they not need light to see?”

His question gives you pause. “Maybe they see a different light spectrum than we do?”

“Maybe… I’ve got an idea!” Ryland says, a smile forming on his face. His words momentarily call the Eridian’s attention, making him stop playing with the tape measure. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Ryland says your name, “Stay here with Rocky, I’ll be right back.”

Ryland begins to reach out his hand (to comfort you?) then quickly withdraws it. Instead, he gives you a hesitant smile, “Have some faith, there’s got to be a reason we were both chosen for this mission.”

With that, Ryland puts on his helmet and flips a small lever to seal the suit. Taking this as your cue, you use the ship’s handholds to exit the airlock and press the button to close the inner door. Ryland grabs a hold of the thick collection of wires that power the small lamps you found in the lab. With his free hand, he salutes you and flips a series of switches to open the outer door. As the airlock door slides open, his suit’s headlamp flickers on. 

With bated breath, you watch as he pushes himself through the airlock’s door and into the tunnel. Due to the limited amount of lamps you were able to find on such short notice, Ryland is given limited visibility, and he soon disappears into the darkness, turning into a small speck of light.

Sighing, you turn back to the cockpit and strap yourself into the pilot’s seat. You don’t know how long Ryland will be gone, and you figure it will be more comfortable to wait for him in a spot where you don’t have to worry about the lack of gravity making you float away.

“Pilot detected,” said the ship’s feminine mechanical voice—which Ryland confessed he had taken to calling Mary. 

You ignore the voice and pull up the ship’s exterior camera feed, which shows the now closer alien ship. The camera doesn’t show the inside of the tunnel, but at least you can watch if the ship suddenly decides to pull away. You and Ryland speculated that Blip-A is also powered by Astrophage, which leaves you wondering how much this alien species knows about Astrophage. 

As you stare at Blip-A on the screen, your eyes grow heavy, and the weight of the past several hours begins to seep into your body. Before you can remind yourself that you need to be ready in case something happens to Ryland, exhaustion takes over, and your eyes flutter closed.

“—And that’s when I saw Carl next to my car!” Andrea Cáceres finished her story with a laugh, leading you to chuckle alongside her in the empty conference room. 

Since coming aboard Stratt’s aircraft carrier—Stratt’s Vat, as everyone called it—you and Andrea had become friends. As the two scientists on the backup crew, you bonded over your awe of the highly successful scientists on the prime crew.

At that moment, the conference room door swung open, and a frazzled-looking Ryland Grace hurriedly strode into the room. He carried a stack of notebooks and papers piled on top of his laptop, and he not-so-gently plopped everything down at the head of the table.

“I meant to get here earlier to set up,” Grace rambled as he fixed his askew glasses, “But I lost track of time in the lab.”

You and Andrea shared amused smiles at the man’s harried appearance. “No worries,” you replied, turning to Grace, “There’s still ten minutes before we’re supposed to start. Andrea and I just figured we’d get here early.”

Taking a seat at the table, Grace’s shoulders slumped, and he gave you and Andrea a tired smile. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Not at all!” Andrea answered cheerily, her enthusiasm making her accent stronger. “I was just explaining how Stratt sent someone all the way to the distillery I work at to recruit me for the mission.”

“A distillery, huh?” Grace asked as he powered on his computer. “Make anything good?”

Andrea shrugged, “Have either of you had Paraguayan rum?”

Your eyebrows raised, “Honestly, I can’t say that I have.” Grace also shook his head, and you turned back to Andrea. “Guess, you’ll have to get us some to celebrate when we ace our first Astrophage 101 test.”

Andrea’s eyes widened, and she began flipping through her notebook, “We have a test?”

Grace, who had begun to type on his computer, paused. “I’m giving you guys a test?”

You laughed at their reactions. “I’m just teasing,” you replied and watched both of them relax. “After all those years of grad school, it feels weird to be taking a class and not have any tests.”

Grace’s eyes twinkled as they met yours, “Just add in way too many all-nighters and I can definitely relate to that.” 

Something about his gaze, paired with his tired smile, made warmth spread across your cheeks. Before you could contemplate it further, the conference room doors swung open, and DuBois and Annie strode in.

Straightening, Grace turned to the newcomers as they settled into their seats. “Hey guys, you’re just in time for us to start.” He stood up and walked to the whiteboard on the wall. Picking up a dry-erase marker, he began drawing a diagram on the board. “Today, we’re going to talk about the importance of CO2 in the Astrophage lifecycle.”

“… awake?” A voice says, accompanied by a gentle touch on your shoulder. For a moment, you’re confused before you register whose voice it is. Your eyes fly open, and you turn to see Ryland in the cockpit, still wearing the red EVA suit.

“You’re back!” you blurt out, straightening in the pilot’s chair. “What happened?”

His face brightens. “I made contact!” Ryland exclaims as he begins taking off the suit. “I officially made contact with an alien!”

From there, he launches into an explanation of his meeting with the alien—Rocky, as Ryland declares his name should be. His body practically vibrates with excitement, and he smacks his hand against one of the cockpit screens while speaking. 

As you listen to his story with bated breath, part of you notices how his bright smile makes him look younger. He brushes a hand through his hair, making the ends stick straight up from the lack of gravity, but he seems unaware. After a few minutes, Ryland finishes speaking, his voice almost breathless from excitement. 

Leaning back in your seat, you process the information. “So now what?”

Ryland freezes in place. “What?”

“I mean,” you say slowly, hating to burst his bubble of excitement. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“I guess we wait for their next move,” Ryland replies after a moment of contemplation. “My best guess is they’re going to analyze what they can from the air I released from the airlock. Their engineering skills seem to be better than ours, so there’s not much we can do from our side.”

You nod and open your mouth to respond, but a wide yawn interrupts you. A blush spreads to your cheeks as Ryland looks at you in amusement.

“I think that’s your cue to go to sleep,” he states in a teasing tone. “Why don’t you go sleep for a bit while I keep watch?”

You want to insist you’re fine, but another yawn cuts you off. You were sleeping very soundly until Ryland woke you, and you can feel the exhaustion in your body, begging you to go back to sleep. 

With a sigh, you unbuckle yourself from the pilot’s chair. “Fine, but promise to wake me when it looks like they want to talk again?”