#dr. grace

Grace smiled as he leaned forward, chin on his wrist. “Earth-culture rule. If you’re at a place first, you get to name everything you discover there.”

Rocky thought for a good two Eridian minutes before shifting his weight from one handhold to another.

“Okay,” he finally spoke. “Name is..” followed by a frequency of notes that hadn’t been charted into Grace’s translator.

He cocked his head to the side, trying to recognize each sound.

“What does it mean?” “It is name of my mate.”

“You have a mate?”

“Unknown,” Rocky said. “Mate possibly has new mate. I gone a long time.”

“Sad.” Grace hummed, typing something into the same computer he had been using to analyze Rocky’s frequencies.

Rocky nodded his carapace forward. “Yes. Agree.”

Grace had already explained the concept of “mates” on earth—how two humans come together and create a life. Rocky did the same. It was a strange thing—laying two eggs, one consuming the other to create one viable egg that would hatch in one Eridian year (approximately forty-two earth days). Two Eridians laying eggs together was the Eridian equivalent of having sex.

“Grace have mate, question?”

Grace pursed his lips thinking for a moment. He could remember having a female presence in his life—Stratt and Ilyukhina and any other women he had worked with during the building of the Hail Mary. But not a single romantic partner.

He held his chin between his thumb and his index finger. 

“No. I… I don’t think so.”

But saying it out loud made his chest hurt. 

A tear rolled down his cheek.

Rocky’s question ricocheted in Grace’s amnesia-riddled brain.

Did he have a mate?

Grace stirred a pan of eggs, trying to get the perfect consistency of scrambled that you loved.

Laika sat next to him, hoping some scraps would fall to the floor for her to snack on.

He heard you walk into the kitchen, listening as you reached into one of the high cabinets to grab one of his many nerdy science mugs.

“Morning, hun.” You murmured, sliding over to him, slipping one hand between his shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking a sip of your coffee.

“Morning, Neby,” Grace chuckled (Neby was a nickname Grace had bestowed upon you after your first date when you had tried to sound like a nerdy science chick and completely unraveled yourself by calling a nebula a “nebby… neb… thing.” It made him laugh pretty hard though). “All American breakfast to start your day sound good?”

“Yes,” you smiled. “You’re the best.”

You sat at the dining table, welcomed by a plate full of bacon, and then a plate of eggs delivered by Grace. Laika walked right next to him and then assumed a spot next to you waiting for more food with her usual pleading eyes.

“One plate of scrambled butt nuggets coming right up,” he smiled, placing the plate in front of you and kissing the crown of your head.

“Thanks,” you murmured, rubbing an eye before grabbing some bacon and plopping it next to your eggs.

Laika eyed you as you took a bite.

“Don’t tell Grace,” you whispered as you tore off a piece of bacon and slipped it to her.

Grace walked over with his plate, peering at you over his glasses. He chose not to say anything this time.

You took an inconspicuous sip of your coffee like you hadn’t slipped Laika some food before devouring the eggs and bacon together.

Grace watched you the whole time as he ate his own breakfast, just admiring the way you looked right now. Disheveled and sleepy and yet always the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

By the time Grace finished eating, you’d already eaten your breakfast and downed your coffee. You felt more alert than before.

You softly rubbed your stomach. “You always make the best breakfast, Grace.”

“Well, it’s all thanks to this cool little apron you got me.” He smiled, pointing at his apron that read “May the Forks be with you”—something you’d gifted him on his birthday years ago.

You chuckled and stood, taking your dirty dishes to store in the dishwasher, before leaving to your shared bedroom to get ready for work. 

It was already 7:00 A.M. You had roughly forty-five minutes to get ready. 

Yikes…

You rushed to shower and settle your hair into a reasonable braid—just to keep it out of your way—no makeup because you were bound to get dirty somehow, and then your work uniform which was grimy with yesterday's grease stains.

You walked back into the bedroom to grab your walkman, finding Grace pulling his shoes on.

He looked up at you, just to catch a glimpse. He noticed you were wearing your unclean work overalls.

“Crap-sticks,” he muttered, frowning. “I forgot to wash your uniform last night.”

“Don’t worry about it hun. I’ll do it when I get home.”

“Are you sure?” He pouted, finishing his laces before walking over and cradling your shoulder, softly rubbing it.

“Promise.” You replied quietly, kissing his cheek.

He let you go with a smile and a sigh.

“I may or may not be a little late today,” he started, walking across the room to grab his bag. “It’s quiz day.”

“That means I’m in charge of dinner.” You replied, walking to the front of the house to grab your work bag, which lay by the door from last night.

Grace followed behind you, snatching two tumblers of coffee in his hand that he had filled while you got ready.

He extended one to you and you took it with a grateful sigh. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later, okay? Love you.”

“Yep. I love you, too.”

The two of you exchanged a hug and a kiss before making your way into your separate vehicle and bike, taking your routes to work.

Your work day was like any other: doing maintenance on commercial planes and the occasional private aircraft at the international airport in your city. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough for you and Grace to live together comfortably.

Grace’s day hadn’t gone as it usually did. 

It should have ended when the bell rang.

The final minutes of class had dissolved into noise—hands in the air, overlapping questions, students talking over each other about the newly-discovered Petrova line like it was another cool science topic instead of… whatever it actually was

He tried to answer them all, but the bell cut him off mid-sentence.

Chairs scraped, backpacks zipped. The room emptied in a rush of voices and footsteps until all that was left was the echoing chatter of the students passing down the hall.

Grace exhaled slowly.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, stacking the quizzes into one uneven pile. “Peace and quiet. Finally.”

He sat at his desk, red pen in hand, already bracing himself for the grades.

He didn’t even make it through the first page.

“Ryland Grace?”

A voice he didn’t recognize.

Grace looked up over the rim of his glasses.

A woman in a sharp business suit stood in the doorway, too composed for a parent, too serious to be a district staff member. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said cautiously. “Can I help you?”

She stepped inside without waiting for permission.

There was an accent in her voice, European, maybe. “I believe so.” 

“My name is Eva Stratt. I’m here on behalf of the Petrova Taskforce.”

Grace blinked. “...That sounds fake.”

“It is not.”

“Okay,” he said, setting his pen down slowly. “That doesn’t make it sound less fake.”

She didn’t smile.

“We are dealing with a global anomaly. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Petrova Line,” she continued. “It’s now becoming imminent that this line requires immediate scientific attention. Your name came up.”

“My name comes up when kids forget to put their names on tests,” Grace said. “That’s about it.”

Stratt opened her briefcase and pulled out a thick, organized binder.

She flipped it open and turned it toward him.

Grace leaned forward despite himself, reading an all too familiar title cover.

An Analysis of Water-Based Assumptions and Recalibration of Expectations for Evolutionary Models.

“Oh,” he muttered. “...you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“You recognize it,” she said.

“Yeah, unfortunately.”

Your voice flickered through his mind for just a second. “You should be proud of it, you know.”

He’d rolled his eyes when you said that.

“That was a long time ago,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“You challenged foundational assumptions about life,” Stratt replied. “Most people do not ‘just stop’ doing that.”

“Well, I did,” he said flatly.

She studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he was lying or just disappointing.

“You argued that life does not require water,” she said.

“I argued that we assume too much about conditions we’ve only ever seen once,” Grace corrected. “Big difference.”

“Most scientists disagree.”

“Most scientists are comfortable,” he shot back. “Comfortable people don’t ask better questions.”

He could feel the stab in his words.

Grace sighed, sliding his glasses up to drag a hand down his face.

“Look,” he added, softer. “I’m not that guy anymore. I teach kids. I go home. I eat dinner with my wife. That’s… enough for me.”

There was a brief pause. Stratt closed the binder.

“I believe you,” she said.

Grace blinked. “...you do?”

“Yes.”

“...Huh.” That threw him off more than anything else she’d said.

“But that does not change the situation,” she continued.

“Which is?” he asked.

“Something has been detected near the sun and it is absorbing energy at an exponential rate.”

Grace frowned. “Like… a solar phenomenon?” “No.”

“...A satellite?”

“No.”

Grace stared at Stratt.

“...You’re about to say something I’m not gonna like, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Stratt sighed, settling her briefcase down to cross her arms. “We believe whatever is in the Petrova line may be alive.”

Grace let out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Okay—no. No, that’s—no.”

“Whatever it is, it’s far too close to the sun to need water. It aligns with your prior work.”

“Yea, well, my prior work also got me kicked out of academia, so—” “We need someone willing to consider possibilities others dismiss.”

He grabbed his stack of quizzes and shoved them into his bag.

“My wife is expecting me home,” he said. “So unless this ‘global anomaly’ can wait until tomorrow, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“It cannot wait.”

“Then you should probably find someone else.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked past her.

She didn’t stop him.

“Dr. Grace,” she said instead, calm as ever. “This is not optional.”

He waved his hand behind him without turning around. “Seems optional to me!”

It really wasn’t optional.

When he made his way outside, four men in suits were waiting for him, hands clasped in front of them. They flashed him their FBI badges.

“Dr. Grace,” one of them said, stepping forward. “We need you to come with us.”

“Do I?” Grace asked.

“Yes.”

“Hard pass, sorry.” He shrugged, slipping his bike helmet on.

They didn’t argue. Two of the agents grabbed him by the arms.

“Hey—okay—nope—this is kidnapping, right? This is definitely kidnapping—”

The car door opened.

He twisted and turned, awkwardly trying to wiggle his way out of their abnormally strong grip. 

“Hey, can I at least call my wife?!” he snapped.

Nobody gave him an answer. 

They shoved him into the back of a black SUV.

Grace banged his fist against the little clear partition between the front and back seats. 

Both men in the front of the car stayed silent, ignoring his knocking.

He tried to ask questions, he joked, he complained. Eventually he stopped when he realized the agents were never going to reply to him.

His knee bounced, and the thought of you hit him harder than ever.

He swallowed, pressing his temple against the cool window of the car, muttering, “...She’s gonna freak out.”

By the time they pulled into a parking lot, the sun was beginning to lower in the sky.

They led him into what looked like an unused business building.

His feet barely touched the ground as they led him down an empty hallway with unmarked doors every thirty feet or so. Finally, they opened a set of double doors at the end of the hall and gently nudged him inside.

Unlike the rest of the abandoned building, this room was full of furniture and shiny, high-tech devices. It was the most well-stocked biology lab he’d ever seen. And right in the middle of it all was Stratt.

“Welcome, Dr. Grace,” she said. “This is your new lab.”

The agents closed the door behind Grace, leaving him and Stratt alone in the lab. 

Grace rubbed his shoulder where they had manhandled him a little too hard. He glanced at the door behind him.

“Some welcome this is,” he grumbled. “I like what you did with the kidnapping.”

“You are here because you are needed.”

“I have a life, you know.” He snapped.

Stratt ignored him and gestured to the lab. “We believe this organism is consuming stellar energy,” she said. “If that is true—”

“It could affect the sun,” Grace finished.

“Yes.”

Silence settled between them.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s… bad.”

“Yes.”

Grace looked at the makeshift lab that looked minuscule in the middle of the uncomfortably big warehouse. 

“Can I call my wife?”

—

That day you got home from work, it was almost 6:30 P.M.

Grace wasn’t home yet.

You didn’t mind it, remembering he had papers to grade.

Dinner was ready at 7:15

You check the clock again.

7:30.

The chicken you baked had gone dry. The rice was sticking together. Laika sat by the door, ears perking at any passing sound she heard.

“He’s just late,” you murmured, though you weren’t sure if you were talking to her or yourself.

7:56.

You picked up your phone. Put it down. Picked it up again.

You knew he was gonna be late, but not this late. Grace was never this late—at least not without letting you know.

Laika let out a soft whine.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know.”

After enough waiting, you reached for your phone and dialed one of his coworkers.

“John?”

“Yea, what's up?”

“Did you see Grace today?”

“Yea,” his coworker yawned. “We talked just before his last class started. I saw him leave with these four scary-looking men.”

He had been kidnapped. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, softly sliding your hand up to your forehead. “Okay, thanks.”

You immediately hung up and called 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My husband was kidnapped.”

“Okay, ma’am, what’s your husband’s name?” 

“Grace. Ryland Grace. I saw him this morning when we left for work,” Your voice started trembling. “He- His coworker said he saw him leave with some guys in black suits outside of his school.”

“Okay,” you heard her typing on the other end of the line. “If you can, please come to the station so one of our officers can take your statement.”

You nodded like she could see you before giving her a verbal okay, and hung up.

You left dinner on the table and rushed out the door to the closest police station.

There, you were met with a detective named Erin, who helped you into a private office.

Three hours later, you left.

You got home and picked up dinner. Laika followed you around.

As you laid in bed, the gravity of his absence hit you. You weren’t used to sleeping in an empty bed.

You kept drifting toward his side in your sleep, only to wake up clutching a pillow that didn’t breath or quietly snore when he thought you were already asleep.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

But you did remember waking up to the sound of your clock blaring its snooze alarm.

You were late.

You had to rush to work and, at work, you were hit with probably one of the worst maintenance issues in the history of your time working with airplanes.

On top of the shitty hours you worked, traffic on the way home was even worse. 

You’d ended up getting home two hours later than usual.

At this point, the stress of Grace’s disappearance and work had you so tired you fell onto the bed and knocked out, only to be woken up by your phone ringing.

As you blinked the sleepiness away, you sat up. You reeked of grease and oil and metal from yesterday.

Probably work calling.

It was.

You called in sick without any other hesitation and trudged to the kitchen for a much needed mug of coffee.

Just as you had clicked brew on the tiny machine, a knock sounded at your door.

You pondered answering it, until whoever they were, struck again with a harsher force.

You made your way to the front, Laika next you barking quietly.

You shushed her as you opened the door.

You were met with two men in black suits, one holding a tablet.

“Is this the house of Ryland Grace?” One asked.

Oh my god it's the guys who kidnapped Grace.

You hesitantly answered.

“...Yea.”

“Your husband would like to speak to you.” The second one answered immediately.

“What?-”

“May we come in?”

You rubbed your face with both hands before sighing. What other option did you have?

“Yea, sure.” You muttered, exasperated.

You let them in, and guided the two men into your living room as you spoke.

“Listen, if this is you guys asking for ransom then I-”

“Neby?” You heard a familiar voice speak, along with the grain of some kind of background noise.

You turned around to see Grace’s face on a screen with that worried, tired look you recognized.

“Grace!” You cried, running over, hands snatching that tablet from one of the men’s hands. “Are you okay? Where are you? Were you kidnapped?-”

“No- sweetheart, I’m fine, I’m just in this really weird lab experimenting on this-”

One of the men took the tablet just as Grace began leaking sensitive government information.

“What- Hey! I was talking to him!” You scoffed.

“Dr. Grace, we must remind you to keep your work private.”

“Oh.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “What do you mean ‘private?’ What’s going on? Grace-”

“I… I can’t explain that,” Grace sighed. You grabbed the tablet as the man handed it back. “But I can assure you that I am fine. I might be gone for a little while, but I’m not kidnapped or running away from you, okay?”

You sighed shakily, rubbing the T-area of your forehead. “I don’t—” you stopped, swallowing hard. “...I don’t believe you. But I… I trust you.”

You watched Grace. The feedback on his end was buggy. He adjusted his glasses and his hand froze before returning back to its original spot on what you presumed was a table. Normally you would have laughed at this.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning closer like that would do something to create a barrier of privacy between you and what you assumed were some kind of special agents. “I love you, okay?”

“I love you, too.” You replied quietly.

“Dr. Grace?” You heard a female voice in the background.

“Oh, I’m- I’m talking to my wife-”

“You need to get back to the lab.”

“Who is that?” You called, not out of jealousy, but fear. Maybe he was being held hostage and he was just trying to pretend to not worry you.

“Would you like to talk–” Grace started, before the tablet was taken from his hands. “Okay.”

A woman filled the frame now. She looked older, red hair, and a turtleneck.

“Mrs. Grace, my name is Eva Stratt. I work for the ESA-”

“The European Space Agency? What?-” Stratt continued her sentence, ignoring your interjection. “Your husband has been selected to take part in a scientific trial and will be gone for a brief moment of time.”

“Can I go with him?” You huffed.

“No,” she responded simply. “Thank you for your time.”

The screen turned black.

“What? No, no, no,” You whined, trying to figure out a way to turn it back on and redial his line.

Stupid government technology.

One of the men took the tablet.

“We will contact you if there are any changes.”

“Seriously? I want to see my husband!”

“That’s currently not possible, ma’am.” “Then make it possible!” You yelled.

This was maybe the first time in your whole life you had raised your voice at another person. 

“We will see what we can do.” One of the men offered, before they both turned and left without another word, stepping into their ominous black SUVs.

You listened as the door closed, and simply fell onto the couch, Laika running over to lay next to you.

“What are we going to do?” You whispered, glancing at her.

Laika cocked her head to the side and slowly settled herself on your lap.

Meanwhile…

Grace followed Stratt down the large dome, a frown on his lips.

“Ms. Stratt,” he called out, catching up to her pace. “I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can I bring my wife?-”

“No,” She answered immediately. “She is irrelevant to your work.”

“Please,” he huffed. “She- she’s a mechanical engineer! She can help me–build… things!”

Stratt did not continue further. She kept walking.

Grace frowned and crossed his arms, but continued following her to the lab nonetheless.

An idea popped into his mind.

He stopped walking.

Stratt noticed his stillness and stopped as well, turning around to look at him.

“If you don’t let me bring my wife, then I don’t want to work on this anymore.”

Stratt stared at him for a moment.

“That’s fine then. You can collect your things and leave.” “What? Wait-” Grace groaned loudly, ruffling his own hair, his glasses sliding down his nose just lightly. “Fine. She doesn’t come. But I get to call her whenever.”

Stratt thought it over for a bit. 

“Okay. But you will have to sign an NDA. You are not allowed to tell her anything of what you are working on here, do you understand?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I need a yes.”

Grace frowned. Such formalities for no reason.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Stratt turned around and kept walking. Grace followed her again. “I’ll have an NDA form and a tablet for you tomorrow.”

Grace smiled now. It wasn’t the best possible outcome, but it was better than nothing.

The next day, there was a knock on your door again.

Only one of the men from yesterday was here this time. 

“Mrs. Grace. A compromise was reached.” He extended his hand, and in it was a tablet. “Ms. Stratt has supplied you with a modified tablet to contact your husband via video call.

You frowned. Seriously? A tablet to chat over a connection that was probably tapped and being monitored.

You took it and inspected it all around

“Thanks.” You muttered, closing the door as the man stepped off your porch.

You walked to the living room and stared at the TV.

It was on, flashing some news about the president giving a very important speech.

You didn’t care.

Just as you began to mess with the tablet, trying to figure out how it would work, it began to vibrate with a call.

You answered immediately, smiling and giggling a little when you saw Grace’s face so close to the screen.

“Heyyyy.” You sat back on the couch, Laika running over to sit with you, like she could also sense the call.

“Oh, it's on.” He muttered, leaning back. “Hey, sweetheart!”

“How are you–” A man stepped into view behind him, dressed in a suit. “Who is that?”

“Oh, he’s just—” Grace peered at him quickly. “He’s just accompanying me.”

“For what?”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Grace smiled, trying to pan the camera away from him. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been… not okay, honestly. Work has been weirdly rough lately. The president said there's this new thing called… what is it?”

You racked your head for the answer.

“Astrophage.” Grace blurted.

He could feel the agent’s eyes burning into his back.

“Astrophage, yea!” You paused. “How’d you know?”

“Oh, I- uhmm… I heard it on the news today, too.”

“Oh, cool.” You responded, unaware that he was the one who had named Astrophage, who had been running all the tests and discovering new things about the said cellular organism.

There was a silence that settled.

“Well, I have to get back to work,” Grace sighed, looking at something over the tablet.

“Okay,” you frowned slightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

That was the first and last time he picked up a call.

You had tried to videocall him the next day and he didn’t respond. 

You tried to tell yourself. Maybe he’s just busy. Yea, that was it.

You tried again the next day.

No such luck.

And you tried again and again, until you got so frustrated you almost threw the tablet on the floor.

You tried to ground yourself, saying he was probably working on something that required all of his time and attention.

And that was kind of the case.

That is, if the case was saving the human race.

One random day, you went to check the mail.

Not for anything important. You knew it’d probably be bills, ads, magazines. The usual.

But there was still a stubborn part of you that hoped maybe something would be there to alleviate your worries.

You opened your mailbox.

A stack of envelopes greeted you—insurance, flyers, a couple of space magazines that had Grace’s name on a sticker.

Just as you closed the little mailbox door, you saw it at the very bottom, barely visibly beneath the pile of junk mail.

A large, thick yellow envelope covered in stamps. Your name was written in handwriting you would’ve recognized anywhere.

Your breath caught, and for a second, you just stared at it.

You quickly locked the box and carried your mail home.

Once inside your house, you threw the rest of the letters on the table and ripped the letter open.

my dearest neby,

hello! i know i havent been able to call you for a while, and im sorry. i will make it up to you, i promise. things are just… weird right now.

im really far away. like, really far. further than before. there’s satellite connection out here but its being used a lot, so my call never go through. ive tried though. a lot.

You blinked.

“What?!” You whispered.

How far was he? Why was he so far? What the hell was going on?.

Your grip tightened on the paper. Your mind started running ahead of you.

You forced yourself to keep reading.

-i still cant tell you about what im doing here (sorry). but i can tell you some thing.

i got taken really far out into the ocean. i have met a lot of people here. i dont think any of them like me (shocking i know) ive been doing a lot of experiments. like actually cool ones. stuff i couldnt do with my students at school

how are you?  its been rough without you. a lot rougher than i expected.

i miss you and my students and laika

is she still bring you her leash? you know how she gets if she doesnt get her walk.

Your vision blurred for a second, but you swallowed it down.

this whole letter thing kinda sucks but its what we’ve got right now

you remember how to write back, right?

love, your husband☆

You lowered the paper slowly.

You smiled, although you could feel a little ache in your chest.

You didn’t waste any more time, though.

You grabbed a paper, pen, and sat down right there at the table like if you waited a second longer, his letter might disappear.

You wrote fast and messy.

By the time you finished, your hand ached.

You folded the paper carefully and slid it into the envelope.

You hummed to yourself. 

“...No.” you muttered.

You ran into your bedroom.

The drawer of the nightstand slid open with a soft click.

You dug past tangled cords and other such random items, until your fingers brushed against a familiar box.

You pulled it out, along with a handful of cassettes. Your cassettes.

A few in particular made you hesitate. Each had a label handwritten in red sharpie, slightly crooked.

the greatest hits! (in my opinion)

8/04/21

the beatles

queen

frankie s.

You huffed a quiet laugh. Hours of recording. Re-recording. Getting the time right and making sure every song started clean.

And then you gently placed all of them in the same package.

“I…” Grace’s hands trembled slightly as he took his glasses off, hanging them in the neck of his shirt. He dragged his hands over his eyes, trying to wipe his tears before they could fall. “I think I did have a mate. But… it’s been a while. I don’t remember her very well, and I also don’t think she’s waiting for me.”

“Grace and Rocky mate not so different.”

“Yea.” Grace huffed.

He slowly stood up. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible that they had been hidden some personal items for him.

“I want to check something.” Grace walked out of the little lab towards the dormitories, where he reached into the storage compartment with all the crew’s bags, which he hadn’t bothered to thoroughly comb through save for changing his clothes.

He pulled everything out.

Shirts, socks, a hacky sack colored like earth. 

In between it all, he found a walkman, cassettes, small black box, a little USB drive, and a blanket made with different patches.

“What all this, question?” Rocky leaned his carapace forward.

“Well…”

There was a knock on the outside of the makeshift lab’s window. 

Grace looked up.

Stratt was standing outside with a yellow package. It was covered in more stamps and tape.

Grace flashed her a smile and gently settled whatever experiment he was working on. It was probably your response to his mail! It took longer than he had hoped, but all he cared about was your reply.

He stepped out and pulled off his protective gear.

It was loud inside the carrier. A jumble of chattering, sounds of jets coming and leaving, saws and drills and other such tools that were being used to build specialized parts.

“For me?” Grace extended his hand, and Stratt placed it in his palm.

“Yes. From your wife.”

“Amaze-balls.” 

He inspected it quickly, feeling it around. “I’m taking a super quick lunch break.”

“Alright,” Stratt turned around. “Dr. Garza, please step in while Dr. Grace is gone.”

Grace kept walking, already pulling the glued flap open to rummage through the package.

He walked down a narrow hall within the interior part of the carrier, reading through your message.

to my awesome and nerdy husband,

it has also been rough without you, but reading that you get to do all these new things makes me happy for you! laika misses you too. sometimes she’ll drag her leash to the door and sit and whine. i walk her, but i’m sure it's not the same as when you do it. and i’ll see what i can do about visiting your students

as for me, i’m doing fine-ish. I’m surviving, to put it better. i miss you at night. like a lot. it seems i didnt appreciate having you right next to me enough.

work has been rough. we’ve been getting a lot of planes turned to shit (excuse my language), and i always end up with grease everywhere (i’m pretty sure i’ve used up all of my current bottle of Fast Orange).

since you don’t have a connection, i’m sending you a little keepsake from me. i know you might freak out since i consider this my ‘prized possession,’ but i think this occasion warrants such a gift. consider it an early anniversary present

love, your amazing wife :)

p.s. i left a list of the songs on the back, just in case

If someone had passed by, they would have thought he was a little insane overhearing him making little happy sounds and muttering comments to himself.

And just as he walked into the little breakroom, he reached back into the package and pulled out your cassette player. 

Holy cow.

Grace sat on the edge of the breakroom’s countertop, admiring the cassette player and switching between the tapes you had left for him, inspecting each one and going back and forth between the tapes and the paper to see the songs.

And then he plugged in the earbuds you threw in for him, and hit the play button.

Quiet static.

The sound of music filled his ears, something he hadn’t heard in too long of a time.

It was familiar and warm and so you.

Grace let out a shaky laugh, pressing the earbuds closer.

For a second, just a second, it felt like he was in the kitchen again. Like you were over the stove, cooking and humming like you always did when it was your turn to make dinner. 

His day dreaming was interrupted by the door of the break room opening.

Stratt stepped in. 

“Are you finished?” She asked.

“Uhm—no. I was just about to start on my lunch.”

“You have five minutes.”

“What—” 

She left before Grace could refute her command.

He sighed and kept listening to your tapes as he scarfed his food down, imagining you were by his side, eating lunch with him too. 

And for the rest of his time working on Project Hail Mary, this was how you communicated. 

Letters, and packages. Static-filled calls when you were lucky.

As a year slowly approached, the Hail Mary neared completion.

Grace had met the brave trio of astronauts who were going to be on the Hail Mary. 

Yao, a stern and traditional Chinese man, Ilyukhina, a boisterous and outgoing Russian woman, and DuBois, an almost robotic man who was not afraid to share much of his personal life.

They were ready to die. Each of them had chosen their own form of suicide like it was an item on a bucketlist—opioid overdose, bullet to the head, suffocation by nitrogen. Grace was almost scared by their willingness to give up their lives.

Nonetheless, he worked with them. Taught them the science they needed to know. It was almost like he was back in his classroom. 

Things were going well. They had made incredible progress with the Hail Mary. All the final touches were being made—the coma induction, tweaks in programming, last minute fixes and additions to the Hail Mary itself.

Grace vividly remembers standing on land for the first time in months.

It was almost one in the morning when you felt something making a sound in your room. 

You blinked awake, feeling around the bed as you sat up. 

“Fuck. What the fuck?” You muttered, voice raspy.

You pushed your hair out of your face and stood, looking around until you spotted a flash of light that seemed to be the source of the vibrating

The tablet?

You walked as quickly as you could and grasped the screen, clicking it on.

“Neby?” He spoke, smiling, although his screen was a little buggy.

“Grace!” You whispered for no particular reason. “You called me?”

“Yep,” he smiled. “Things are moving along quickly here. I might be able to come home soon.”

“Seriously?” You laughed, almost wanting to jump up and down in your room. “Oh my god—okay, I have to clean, I have to—Grace, the house is a mess—”

He laughed softly.

“I don’t care about the house,” he paused. “...I just want to see you.”

“Laika misses you a lot.”

You called her name and you heard her pad over, claws making a quiet clicking sound in the dark house.

She made her way onto the bed and laid next to you.

“Say hi to Grace,” you murmured, softly patting her head.

“Hey, my little cosmonaut!” Grace smiled, waving like the dog could understand him.

Laika blinked at the screen. Seems she too was tired to process Grace.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “She doesn’t get it.”

“Yea,” Grace sighed, looking behind him now. “That makes two of us.”

“How have you been?” He asked, voice glitching slightly.

“Uhm… decent. These past months have felt so long without you.”

“I could say the same.”

You rubbed your eyes a few times, trying to rub the sleepiness out of your system even if it was past midnight now.

“Well, I gotta go.” He muttered, scratching his brow.

“So soon?” You yawned, smacking your lips a couple of times.

“Yeah.”

You nodded anyway. “Okay.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” he added.

“No promises.”

He looked back over his shoulder again. Stratt was approaching him.

He spoke softly after another beat of silence. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmured with a grin.

The call ended.

Stratt stood next to Grace, looking out at a building in the distance.

“Nine days to launch,” she said.

Grace nodded.

“Nine days…” He smiled. “This feels like a dream.”

“More like a nightmare.” Stratt huffed, shaking her head, hands stuffing into her coat pocket, body shivering just slightly from a breeze that had picked up.

There was silence, the two enjoying each other’s presence for once in their lives.

“Was that your wife?” Stratt spoke, turning her head slightly to look at Grace.

“Yea,” he smiled, looking at the ground. “My wife and our dog. I miss her, but I’m glad I’ll be getting back to her soon.”

Stratt nodded, looking back out.

“What about you?” Grace asked. “You have anyone? Family? Friends? Partner?”

“Nope,” Stratt sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair into her cap. “I’ll probably go to jail after this is over. A lot of world leaders aren’t happy with the way I operated Project Hail Mary.”

“Oh.” Grace frowned now. 

He had opened his mouth to speak again.

BOOM.

The ground disappeared from under him. Sound ripped through the air.

Grace hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs.

He couldn’t hear anything. His ears were ringing. What happened? Something exploded. But where? 

Grace forced himself to sit up. 

Even after being knocked down, Stratt was already moving. Of course she was.

Grace followed, stumbling after her.

There was a fire in the distance.

Grace and Stratt stood next to each other in the middle of the field, watching as the bases’ emergency cars pulled onto the scene.

Stratt reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a walkie talkie.

She spoke in Russian, quickly.

“The research center blew up,” she said.

“Oh god,” Grace looked at her. “Who was there? Who was there?!”

Stratt reached into her pocket, “Hang on—,” and pulled out a folded and almost crumpled wad of papers.

Grace knew exactly what they were. The schedule logs, showing where everyone was and what they were doing at all times.

Stratt flipped through them all, stopping shortly when she reached the page she was looking for. She gasped.

“DuBois and Shapiro. They were scheduled to be there doing some Astrophage experiments.”

Grace wanted to fall to his knees. He almost did.

He felt like throwing up.

“Primary crew, I need you locations. Call them in.”

“Yao here,” he came on first. “In my bunk.”

“Ilyukhina, at the officer’s bar. What was that explosion?”

Stratt and Grace waited for the next reply. 

“DuBois,” she said. “DuBois! Check in!”

Radio silence.

“Shapiro. Dr. Annie Shapiro, check in!”

More radio silence.

Stratt took a deep breath, massaging her temples like it would help with the stress.

The explosion hadn’t been revealed to the public.

All of Baikonur had been put in an effective media blackout. Both of the remaining main and secondary crew were kept in their own respective bunkers. Even Grace had been moved from his trailer and put in a bunker with his colleagues. The Russians weren’t taking any chances, even if it hadn’t been a terrorist attack.

There was nothing Grace could do.

He sat in a bunker with Stratt and Dimitri.

Stratt was going over pictures of the explosion, even if there was just a gaping crater left where the lab had been.

She set her phone down.

“We’ve lost our primary and secondary crew.”

“This is a nightmare.” Dimitri huffed.

“Dr. Grace. I want a short list of possible replacements.”

Grace stared at her, mouth agape. “They just died! And you’re already replacing them!” “And so will the rest of us if we don’t make this mission happen. We need replacements.”

Grace welled up, shaking his head. “DuBois… Shapiro…” he wiped his eyes. “They’re dead. They’re dead…”

Stratt slapped him, knocking his glasses askew. “Snap out of it!”

Grace was taken aback by her outburst.

“Cry later! Mission first! We need a new science specialist, and we need them now!”

He prayed this wouldn’t set the Hail Mary back.

Some days later, Grace was called into a meeting.

“Afternoon,” he spoke; it would have been “Good afternoon,” if not for the death of the only two science specialists on the main and secondary crew, as well as other vital workers.

“Have a seat.” Stratt gestured at any chair.

Grace sat, a file settled in front of him.

There were two guards in the room, as well as Yao and Ilyukhina.

“So, we need at least one new science specialist on that ship, as you know, Dr. Grace,” Stratt began, crossing her fingers in front of her. “Have you found anyone?”

“A woman in Paraguay,” Grace sighed, pushing his beanie off his head. “She’s got a minor in cellular biology.”

“Great, when can she get here?”

Stratt went quiet, Yao and Ilyukhina glancing at her and then back at Grace.

“We don’t have time to train someone. You will take his place.”

Grace blinked.

“...what?”

”You will replace DuBois.”

“Welcome to crew!” Ilyukhina smiled.

“No,” he said. “No, I’m not— I can’t—”

“As I’m sure you know, your test was positive for the coma-resistant gene.”

He did have it. Grace remembered Stratt having his blood tested during the clinical trials for the coma-induction, and then later having DuBois spontaneously inform him that Grace also had the gene.

“No– No!” Grace slid his glasses off, letting them sit jankily below his chin. “I’m a husband. I’m an eighth grade science teacher. But I’m not an astronaut. I’m not an astronaut! I– I put the “not” in astronaut!”

“This isn’t an option, Dr. Grace.”

“I’m not an astronaut!” He echoed. “I don’t have the training!”

“You’ve had years of direct training. You know this mission inside and out.”

“But—” Grace looked down at the table, at the yellow manilla folder in front of him. “I don’t want to die.”

“Nobody does.”

Grace put his head in his hands, trembling with his tears. “Can I think about it?”

“You have until five P.M.” Stratt replied in her same, monotone voice.

Grace dragged his hands up and down his face before leaving the room, door closing behind him in a frustrated slam.

It was a moment like this that made him appreciate Earth for what it was. It made his appreciate his life.

You. His students. Laika. You. 

All he could think about was you.

He had been walking around the main area of the Baikonur Cosmodrome, feeling the cold air of the evening, when he decided to run all the way back to his mobile home to call you.

BZZT… BZZT… BZZT…

The tablet vibrated on your bed. 

But no one was home.

It was a weekday, and with the ten hour time difference between Russia and the United States, you were barely getting into work.

Grace ran his hands through his hair, trying to figure out what to do next. How could he get a hold of you right now?

He ran back to Stratt’s office, breathless as he knocked.

A man opened the door for him.

Grace ran in looking like a mad man, making his way to her desk and gripping the edge.

“I need to call my wife but she’s at work.”

Stratt glanced at him for a second. 

“Where does she work?” “Philidelphia International Airport.”

Stratt did a quick Google search and grabbed the number to call the airport.

“My name is Eva Stratt. I need to speak to your airplane maintenance supervisor immediately.”

Grace could hear a faint Yes, ma’am. No hesitance. Seems they recognized her name.

She was on hold for an approximate second.

“Hello?” A gruff voice spoke.

“I need to speak to one of your employees. A missus Grace.”

“May I ask what this is about?-”

“Do it now or I will call your boss and have you fired for obstructing my operation.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Grace could hear a quiet yelling behind the phone.

“Hey, (nickname)! You got a call!”

You looked over the wing of the plane you were working on. “A call for me?”

“Yes, get your behind over here!”

A look of confusion formed on your face, but you listened anyway, letting your tools clatter on top of the wing as you climbed down the ladder to run over to your supervisor.

You grabbed the phone as he handed it to you.

“Hello?”

The line was silent for a moment, but you could hear some movement.

“Hello??” You muttered again.

“Neby?” Grace said.

“Grace!” You smiled, holding the phone closer now. “Wait, Grace? Why are you calling me at work?” “I just— I needed to talk to you.”

Stratt stood up and left the room. At least she had the courtesy to give Grace some privacy.

“About what?”

“A– About anything. I just needed to hear your voice.”

“That’s… surprisingly cheesy, coming from you,” You replied, chuckling, although you could recognize some worry in his voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” he replied, almost a little too quickly.

“Last time you said that, you were shipped off to god knows where.”

Grace chuckled.

“How have you been?” He muttered, staring at the wood table in Stratt’s office.

“I’ve been good.” Grace could hear the smile in your voice. “I can’t wait for you to get back!”

There it was. The crack in the camel’s back.

“I… I might be here a little longer.”

“What?” You groaned, your entire demeanor changing as you leaned against the wall of your boss’ office. “Why? What’s going on?”

He was silent for a second.

“Unforeseen circumstances.”

“You’re being vague,” You scoffed. “What happened?” 

Your hands tensed around the phone. He was lying.

“I…” Grace looked out of the window of Stratt’s office. She wasn’t watching him, but he could feel the burden of her demand.

His hand clenched around the phone, his other hand rubbing his forehead with his index finger and thumb. There had to be something he could do.

“Sweetheart, I have to call you back, okay?”

“No— No! You can’t keep doing this! Do you know how many times our calls have been cut short? I’m tired, Grace. Sick and tired!”

“I know, I know,” he replied, holding the edge of Stratt’s desk. “I swear, this’ll be the last time, okay? I might be able to try and get out of here.”

You sniffled quietly, dirty hand rubbing a tear away and replacing it with a grease stain.

“...promise?”

“I promise,” he whispered. “I love you, so much more than anything in this entire universe.”

“I love you, too.” You replied, wiping the tears from your eyes with the back of your hands now.

You could hear his breathing stop as the line disconnected one more time. 

Grace slipped his glasses off and wiped the salty liquid away from his eyes. It hurt. But Stratt couldn’t force him to do anything without his consent. He knew that.

The door to Stratt’s office opened.

She walked to her desk without a word, save for a sigh as she sat at her chair and poured herself a glass of gin.

Grace sat on the chair in front of her desk, beanie and glasses askew.

“Listen—” he started.

“I’ll go first.” Stratt interrupted, sipping her gin and settling it back on her desk before crossing her arms.

“I know you are afraid. You believe you don’t have the training, that you’re not even cut out for this. But if you don’t do this, you and the rest of this planet are going to die. Your students are going to live with the insecurity of their lives.”

“I—” Grace rubbed his face a few times. “I can’t. I can’t do it. My wife misses me—do you know how long it's been since I felt her touch? Since I last heard her voice without glitching or lagging? It's almost been a year. I miss my wife. I miss my class. I miss my life. You have a very long list of strong candidates who are willing, but I am not. I am open to working on this from the comfort of Earth. My final answer is no. I’m not going.”

Stratt looked back at the window, and with a nod,the door opened. A man in a white doctor’s coat stepped in with a red bag.

Grace laughed incredulously. “What is this?”

She sat up straight, lacing her fingers together. “Mission plan will state that we induced your coma early due to nerves from the initial launch to the Hail Mary. You will be remembered as a hero.”

It was clear that Stratt didn’t want it to be this way, either. But this was how it had to be. 

She wasn’t tearing up, but there was a gleam of despondency. Stratt had seemingly grown to care for Grace in their time working together. He was practically her right-hand man.

“Come on,” he huffed a laugh, tearing up. Grace wasn’t ready to die.

“You were our tertiary science specialist. You are our last resort, Grace.”

Grace stood as he felt the doctor approaching, the chair behind him nearly falling to the ground.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Grace backed away from the man, his back hitting the wall, following the length of it until he hit a corner. 

Two agents stepped into the room, ready to grab him and hold him down.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. Was she really going to force him?

Grace managed to evade their arms.

His feet were moving faster than he could think. He ran down the hall, trying to find the nearest exit in the building. It would’ve been easier if the building hadn't been a labyrinth.

Grace pushed against a door and he was greeted by cold, humid air. He winced at the feeling of wind.

He turned and they were already gaining on him.

His legs were burning at this point, not used to such physical exertion, but he had to keep going. He wasn’t an astronaut, and he sure as hell wasn’t a hero.

Stratt stood up, watching as Grace ran past outside her window.

She downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and went back to typing on her computer. There was no time to feel bad. 

Grace ran past multiple guards. 

At this point, he had a horde of agents trailing behind him, slowly catching up. 

Even Carl, who had been with Grace since he experimented on Astrophage, was with the group.

He’d managed to make it to the edge of the base, his hand extended to reach for the chain fence.

An agent tackled him to the ground.

He groaned as he fell, head roughly hitting the earth, body desperately trying to escape like a deer caught in a bear trap. 

More of the agents came to press down on him—one for each limb.

“I don’t want to do this!”

The doctor rushed over, the needle already prepped, and he quickly stuck it into Grace’s neck, pushing the milky, white liquid into his veins.

Grace could only watch as his world slowly faded to black, his final thought before darkness: you.

You and Grace sat outside of a restaurant, enjoying the humid summer breeze as it came and went. The two of you had just wrapped up a little celebratory date.

Grace turned to look at you. He seemed to have some kind of seriousness to him.

You looked back at him. 

“Listen…” Grace muttered, rubbing his neck. “I know we are both very broke college graduates right now, but—”

He reached into his pocket. 

“What better time than now?” 

Grace pulled out a small velvet box. 

You gasped, shaking your head. “Grace—”

“I know, just, let me go first.”

He plopped off the bench, got on one knee, one of them popping in the process—you weren’t sure which one—and opened the box. 

The ring was a rudimentary but beautiful piece of jewelry. 

“Grace—!” You huffed as he pulled it out of the small, plush holding.

“I met you on the way to my philosophy class, when I accidentally tripped on your foot and broke my glasses on the concrete. It was certainly an expensive first date, but you managed to knock me off my feet.”

You chuckled, hands reaching up to cover your eyes sheepishly.

Grace continued. “We were both worse off then than now. I remember eating in the cafe on two free lunch vouchers. I also remember how funny you were. And then I remember, after you left, I thought—you were incredible. Funnily enough, we also had that same philosophy class together, and even if I don’t necessarily believe in this, it felt like the universe was giving me a sign,” he paused. “So, now I ask: will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You answered immediately, not a single fiber of hesitation in your body.

He quickly slipped the ring onto your left hand.

You pulled him up towards you, arms wrapping around him in a hug so tight you could feel your atoms hugging, too.

Grace chuckled as he pulled away slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You reciprocated, now holding his face in your hands. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Grace was right when he said that was the last time he was going to randomly cut the call short.

After that, he never called again. 

He didn’t come home either.

You didn’t know why.

You wanted to know why.

You tried so many times. Way too many times.

You lost count after the first five attempts.

Laika sat next to you the whole time, watching you click and click and click, but to no avail.

A day later, agents showed up at your home.

They asked to come in.

You said yes.

This had gotten old by the third time they had appeared on your porch.

They sat on your couch, adjacent to you.

“Mrs. Grace, we have some news about your husband that he was unable to tell you until now.”

Your original slouch had now become a straight spine. The mention of your husband was the only thing you cared about.

“Yes? What is it? Is he okay? Is he-”

“Ma’am.” One spoke. 

“Your husband was selected to be a part of Project Hail Mary.”

“Project Hail Mary? What is that?-” Oh. The Hail Mary. The ship that had been all over the news, that was going to space in approximately eight days. That Hail Mary. “So he’s working on the Hail Mary?”

One of the men slid his sunglasses down, tucking them into his sharp and neat button-up. There truly was no easy way to tell you this, especially when you hadn’t physically seen him in person in almost a year.

“Your husband was selected to join the crew boarding the Hail Mary.”

His words made you feel nauseous. 

Your hands felt numb and cold. The room was spinning. 

Was this a dream? Were you about to wake up in bed right next to Grace—this whole thing having been a part of your overly-creative imagination?

No it was not.

You blinked a few times.

You were trying to cycle through your emotions. Sadness, anger, fear, all of them hitting you at the same time.

“He’s on the crew,” you murmured, unsure what more to do. “When will he come back?”

“Ma’am–”

One agent tapped the other’s shoulder.

“She’s in shock.” He whispered.

“When is he coming home?” You asked again.

“Not… for a long time.” He replied with a somber exhale.

You stared forward at your coffee table, a shaky hand reaching for your mouth as you held back shrieks and tears.

“Can I send him something?”

“Yes.” 

“Give me one hour.” You muttered, trudging out of the living room to the bedroom.

You grabbed Grace’s computer from his old school backpack, opened it and put the password—the date he married you.

The two agents stared at each other, wanting to question it, but realizing it was better to just let you be.

You reached into your nightstand and found a USB drive.

“Sorry, Grace.” You whispered to him, and began to rifle through the image saved on his computer.

It was all old research he had done during his grad school days, pictures of his students, Laika, and you, of course.

You smiled, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You grabbed as many relevant photos and crammed them all into one file on the USB stick.

Then came the more difficult part. 

You dragged your cursor down to the little hotbar at the bottom of the screen, clicked it, and entered Camera.

It opened the computer's built-in camera system. It could capture and record. Convenient.

You sat for a moment, racking your thoughts through tears and snot, trying to figure out what to say to your husband who probably will never come back.

Nothing. There is nothing easy to say about this.

You clicked the record button, letting the video run in silence for a few seconds as you tried to find the words.

“What is it, question?” Rocky asked as they entered the “Don’t Go Crazy Room” (holodeck), where they sat on the ledge of the metal bridge.

“This is called a USB drive. It stands for Universal Serial Bus. These are very common on Earth.”

“Amaze.” Rocky replied.

“You put it into the computer—” Grace inserted the USB into his computer that also had the frequency analyzer attached to it. “—and it’ll upload whatever is in this little stick onto the computer.”

“Interesting earth technology.”

The two sat, waiting anxiously.

“Normally take this long, question?”

“Yea. This is kind of old earth technology.”

Rocky made a sound like a sigh, lowering his carapace slightly.

It took over a minute for the USB upload reached one hundred percent, and Grace’s screen flashed a window with two different files.

memories

not-so-good-bye

His cursor hovered over the file labeled memories. Maybe this would clear the rest of the brain fog from his coma-amnesia issue.

Grace double clicked it.

The file contained a little over three hundred images.

He clicked the first one.

It was an image of him and a strikingly beautiful woman he found strangely familiar.

He squinted, his eyes beginning to burn with his own tears.

Rocky looked between Grace and the screen.

“Grace okay, question?”

“I- I’m fine.” Grace muttered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he used his arrow keys to scroll between the images.

Five pictures later, it was one of you and Grace on the day of your wedding officiation, leaving the courthouse.

You looked so beautiful in your white dress. You smiled so hard you could’ve felt your face grow stiff with a permanent grin. And the whole time, Grace looked at you.

Now he recognized the woman. 

You.

Grace let out a shaky breath, pointing to his screen.

“This was my mate,” he mumbled. 

“Wow. Mate.” Rocky replied. His voice-over sounded monotone, but Grace had come to figure out Rocky’s tone indicators. He was surprised.

Grace wanted to cry. He already was. But it wanted to hit him harder and uglier and fast. Something he didn’t want Rocky to see.

“What is leak from Grace face, question?”

“Could you just give me a few minutes alone, Rocky?” Grace slid his glasses up, letting them hang haphazardly on the crown of his head.

Grace could tell Rocky wanted to ask something else, to stay there, but Eridians had manners.

“Okay.”

He rolled his little xenonite ball out of the holodeck down the hall and made a right to go back to the lab.

Grace set the computer down next to him and bent forward, leaning his elbows onto his knees.

He rested his palm above his mouth, eyes gliding to the side to view the pile he’d found in his bag.

The small black box caught his attention.

Grace reached for it, inspecting it for a second before pulling the top open.

He swallowed the urge to cry harder.

It was his wedding band, held between a plush encasing.

Grace put the box down and stared at the ring, inspecting it closely as he turned it in all kinds of angles.

“My wife.”

All too familiar words.

Grace’s body began to tremble with every deep inhale and exhale. His lungs fought for air as they tried to keep up with his quiet sobs. Tears streamed down his face in an endless waterfall. 

He let himself slowly tilt to rest on his side, before laying completely on his back.

His head hurt. His mind was racing.

His eyes felt heavy.

“Grace.” 

He heard your voice.

“Grace.”

Your voice again.

Had it all been a dream?

“Grace.”

Your voice seemed to turn slightly robotic.

“Grace!” 

There was more urgency in your voice. You bumped his leg softly.

“Grace!” 

Grace blinked slowly, looking at his surrounding, trying to figure out where he was.

“Grace!” A more robotic voice spoke.

“Neby?” He rasped, pushing himself up.

Rocky leaned forward, his body going up and down, trying to inspect Grace.

Guess it was just in his head.

“Rocky thought Grace dead! Bad bad bad!” Rocky rocked his little ball back and forth.

“Yes, bad. Sorry, Rocky,” Grace sighed, rubbing his puffy eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

“One hour and two minutes.”

“Oh.”

“Grace very sad about mate, question?”

“Yes,” Grace frowned, crossing his legs as he reached for the computer. “She was… my everything.”

“Like Adrian.”

“Yes.”

Grace tilted the computer, even if he knew Rocky could already see it using his echolocation.

“This was my class,” he pointed at the picture before scrolling to the next. “And this was my mate. On earth, when two people come together, its called marriage. The male is called husband, and the female is called wife.”

He pointed at a picture of you and Laika sitting together in your backyard, enjoying a box of takeout food. His voice wavered as he spoke. “This is my wife.”

“Wooow.” Rocky’s voice glitched.

Grace and Rocky kept going through the rest of the pictures, Grace having to power through the bittersweetness of his nostalgia.

“Rocky learn much about Earth. Want to know more!” He lifted his little carapace up, his arms shifting in his ball slightly. 

“Maybe later, I wanna keep exploring this.”

“Yes yes yes.” Rocky nodded.

Grace closed the file and opened the one labeled not-so-good-bye.

The only item filed underneath it was a video labeled newmovie1.mov.

He double clicked it and it opened a video file that opened in a new window.

As he waited for the small loading graphic to disappear, the inside of the holodeck changed from a beach to a starry sky.

The video loaded up completely, and the cover image he was greeted with was your face, although you did not look well.

Grace braced himself, cursor hovering over the play button. He was probably going to ugly cry again.

He finally clicked the mousepad, and sound began to play—not you speaking, but grainy background noise.

You sniffled quietly, wiping your eyes. Your hair was slightly messy.

Grace smiled, already feeling the tears pricking his eyes.

“Hi, Grace.—” “Hello, other Earth human!” Rocky interjected, rolling his ball closer.

Grace paused the video with a faint chuckle. “No– Rocky, she can’t hear you. This isn't a real-time thing."

“Oh. Continue."

He clicked play again.

“—where do I even begin?” You huffed a sad laugh, shaking your head. “I had this whole plan. I told myself I was gonna sit down, be normal, say something supportive and not cry five seconds in.”

You sniffled, quickly wiping your eyes. “Clearly… that didn’t happen.”

You glanced off-camera, then back.

“Okay. Um.” You took a breath. “So… if you’re watching this, then you’re already up there.”

You pressed your lips together for a second. “I can’t believe you’re actually going. I don’t think I ever pictured you being the one to go to space. You’re just… you. You— you’re the guy who couldn’t even handle flights on an airplane, and now you’re going on a spaceship!”

Your expression softened.

“But I am proud of you.” You nodded slightly, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “Seriously. I know you probably didn’t make this decision lightly. But I know you did because this matters.” He didn’t make this decision at all.

Your voice quieted a little. “And that’s because that’s the kind of person you are. You’re a good guy. A hero.”

You briefly looked down, another salty tear dripping from your eye.

“I just wish it didn’t mean you had to leave.”

You swallowed as you paused.

“I keep thinking about all the normal stuff. Like… you not being here in the mornings, or Laika waiting by the door for you, or me making way too much food out of habit.”

A small, sad smile spread onto your lips.

“The house is quieter without you.”

You covered your eyes like it would stop the faucet behind your eyes from overflowing. 

“But… I don’t want you worrying about me, okay? I’m gonna be fine. I’ll take care of things here. I’ll make sure everything’s still here when you get back. And you are coming back. I’ve decided that for you.”

Grace huffed quietly, eyes already spouting salty water.

“So don’t do anything stupid out there.” You pointed weakly at the camera. “I mean it.”

You sniffled, now full on sobbing, unable to stop it anymore. “I love you, Grace.”

Your eyes lingered on the camera, not ready to let go.

“...I’ll see you when you get home.”

The video lingered for a second as you slid the cursor down, and then it cuts.

For a long time, he just sat there, staring at his own faint reflection.

His hands were resting on the edge of the console.

“Grace okay, question?”

Grace blinked—almost forgetting Rocky was there. But he didn’t speak.

“Grace leaking fluid again, observation,” Rocky tilted up to Grace, lifting one of his arms, opening and closing his little claw.

Grace huffed a weak laugh. “Yeah. That’s… that’s normal.”

“Why, question?”

He sniffled quietly, more tears still coming down his face. “It’s complicated.” “No understand. Explain.”

“I can’t.”

Grace could hear Rocky shift again.

“Information causes distress, conclusion?” “...yeah. Something like that.”

Rocky went still, now processing.

“Then Rocky not ask more questions.”

Grace nodded once, grateful for that more than he could say.

“Thanks, buddy.”

He slipped the ring on his left hand, and then inserted a cassette into the cassette player and clicked play. In My Life by the Beatles began to play.

Grace stood. “Let’s get back to work,” he spoke to Rocky, gently patting the top of Rocky’s xenonite barrier.

"Yes yes yes!" Rocky excitedly pushed his little xenonite ball to make his way to the lab.

Grace lingered in the holodeck for a second longer, staring at the empty stars projected all across the screens.