#sheesh

He looks out at the shadowy shape of AT-5 that he can see through the Hail Mary’s cockpit window and tries to fight the shiver that runs down his spine. Is Ava part of the ocean he can see through the darkness now?

The smell of blood will not leave his nostrils, and though they are resting far enough from the moon that he can see the whole curve of it in the window he wishes he could get farther away.

(Part of him wishes that he was brave enough to have helped her.) 

Grace clears his throat and answers. “I responded to a distress signal. We were—“

They don’t wait for his answer. “Are you a member of the Eden colony?”

Simon waves a hand until Grace notices him and makes a slashing motion across his throat, mouthing “say no.” Grace turns back to the radio. “No, we’re not. We’re on a research mission.” 

There is a moment of silence, then— “Prepare for docking. We need to see who you are.”

With that, the radio falls silent. Grace deliberately steps out of the cockpit away from it before running a hand through his hair and making something that sounds between a muffled scream and a groan. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

He slaps his forehead. “Oh, fudge, I gotta turn off the centrifuge so we hold still for them to dock.” 

He scrambles back into the cockpit before Simon can say anything and flicks some buttons, and Simon can feel the gravity slowly start to dissipate around them. In less than a minute he’s floating above the floor.

Grace reappears, with Rocky bouncing around behind him, and he takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay! Okay, this is fine, we’re about to meet the government of another civilization. It’s fine.” 

Simon frowns. “Don’ fall for anything they tell you,” he says darkly. “They’ll sell you lies if they think it’ll help them.”

Grace blinks, then nods. He starts pulling his jumpsuit on properly and zipping it up. Simon tries to orient himself to go find the black box.

“I need to get in contact, tell ‘em it’s me,” he says, reluctantly. “They need their box.” 

The box is still secured where they left it, and he pulls it out and hugs it close. He’s… nervous. That’s the word. He doesn’t want to go back and face them.

With the lack of gravity it’s easier to move, and they probably have a solid five minutes before the COI dock. Simon pushes off the wall and back to the medical bay, snatching his boots out of thin air where they’re drifting around. Pulling them on is hard, and he spins around a few times, but it does make him feel slightly more prepared. 

Grace is wringing his hands when Simon returns to the cockpit. “What about the airlock? I mean, the Mary has universal docking, but it’s a human system, it’s built for connecting our ships, how is—“

There is a metallic THUD, then a series of clicks like tumblrs rotating, and then silence. Grace raises an eyebrow. “Huh.”

The radio crackles again, and this time Simon shoulders past his savior carefully to reach it.

“Please present yourself and all personnel aboard the ship,” says Commander David over the radio, and Simon grits his teeth and steels himself. “Got it. I’ve got your box.” 

A moment of stunned silence ensues, and then: “Convict? Is that you?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ’s me. Shit happened. D’you want it or not?”

There are the faint sounds of a hissed, rapid-fire conversation over the radio. David replies, “Come out with your hands up.” His voice is cold.

Simon fights back a sneer. “Yessir.” 

He exits the cockpit as everything floating around slowly starts drifting down toward the floor. Grace looks around, surprised. “Wait, what, what’s going on, why’s—“

Simon’s boots land on the floor, and he glances at Grace. “Consolidation’s got a gravity drive. Think it runs on… magnets or somethin’.”

He moves for the airlock, but pauses before he starts opening it. Simon glances back at Grace, taking in his messy golden hair and his bright blue eyes. He seems scared.

Simon takes a deep breath, and sets his shoulders. “Stay behind me,” he tells Grace, and pulls the door open. 

*** 

Grace is not prepared for the Consolidation at all. They’re not aliens, not even close— they look entirely human. There is a single viewscreen at the front of the command center, and beyond it— blackness, and the faint outline of AT-5.

Their ship is old, he can see the rust and the grit in the corners, the leaks from the pipes that have been patched as best they can, and the people— the people don’t look much better. It is cold in their ship, a good few degrees colder than the Hail Mary, and all the people are wearing heavy jackets and patched wool and holsters with all sorts of tools and knives and things— oh dear. 

He follows Simon slowly, cautiously, as they step into the other ship. The portal is the same size the Mary’s airlock, at least at first, but then it opens out into a much larger room, one that seems to be some sort of command center.

There are people working here and there around the walls, and there is a delegation waiting for them. The airlock opened out onto a ramp, the metal rusted over, and Grace lays a hand on the railing for balance, just for a moment.

He looks around, and notices faded symbols on the walls, directional readings and what seems to be the barest trace of an emblem— oh. Oh, there’s no way, that’s not— 

He understands now.

But there’s no time. When he’d gone into the Iron Lung to get the box, he’d been a little shocked to see the rust everywhere, the age of the metal clearly apparent. There’d been bloodstains everywhere, streaking down the walls, and he wondered if it was from the ocean or from past people who’d been sent down into it.

There was strange spongy stuff growing on the walls, the color dark like congealed blood, and Grace swore he’d heard something in it calling to him, something just below the range of his hearing.

But he’d gotten the box. He’d chalked the damage on the sub up to the conditions they’d found it in, but looking around here, it was clear that was pretty much all they had. 

He tries to focus. It’s hard— how the heck do they have artificial gravity? How is this working, and how is it spreading to the Mary from here? Simon said magnetism, what kind of magnets??? —oh, shoot, Simon.

Grace focuses back on him as he reaches the bottom of the gangplank. (He’s regretting not just flying back through the barrier, but he’d wanted to stay put until Simon was able to tell him where home was, so they didn’t waste too much fuel). 

Simon is cradling the box in one arm, the other hand raised in the air where it’s clearly visible. He moves slowly, pacing forward just a bit at a time.

Grace notices that all eyes in the room are on Simon, and there’s more than a few incredulous, almost… terrified looks. He also notices that there are no guns in sight. That makes sense, though— if you shoot a gun on a spaceship and miss the results are pretty much immediate death from a hull puncture. 

There is a man waiting for them, surrounded by a few other people that look like they follow his orders. He’s tall, and rail thin, and he leans heavily on a cane made of defunct old piping. His face is pale, gaunt and haggard, a few faint scars crossing his jaw, and he has a couple days’ stubble on his chin to match ruffled brown hair, streaked with silver.

He raises an eyebrow coldly. “Welcome aboard the Falcon. We had to send a distress signal from the research vessel after you dropped out of contact and the flagship had to haul ass over here to pick us up.” 

Simon tilts his head. “David.”

The man’s eyes are very cold indeed. “Put the box down.”

Grace hangs back while Simon slowly lowers himself to the ground, hunkering down until he’s kneeling. He places the box on the ground, moving very carefully, and puts his hands in the air. He freezes in place, waiting. Grace can feel his heart beating in his throat. 

*** 

Simon waits as the COI officers try to figure out what to do. He grits his teeth, and when two of the security detail step over he doesn’t protest when they grab him roughly by the arms and hold him in place.

It hurts to have his arms wrenched back like this, and the forceful pressure on his shoulders is not appreciated, but he can deal with it.

He watches as one of David’s assistants scurries forward and picks up the box. He can practically feel her trembling from here. He twitches, and she hurries back to the other officers. 

He probably shouldn’t be scaring people on purpose, but if there’s a chance he can get Grace out of this in one piece he’s going to take it, no matter what that entails.

The focus has been on him —if Grace is smart, he’ll run, shut the airlock, detach the seal and fly away as fast his ship can go. It will be better, if he—

There is the sound of shoes behind him, stepping forward. “Hey, let him go!”

Simon closes his eyes for a moment. Goddamnit. 

They don’t even focus on Grace at first. Instead they pull Simon up to his feet and drag him off to the side.

David limps close and sizes him up, glaring. His eyes are ice cold.

Simon lifts his chin by a degree and meets his eyes calmly. “I brought you the box. You let me go.”

David just stares at him. “This is all your fault,” he says, quiet and too calm.

Simon recognizes that David is seething right before the next words leave his mouth. “This is your fault, Butcher. It’s your fault we’re here, you and the rest of your Eden freaks. If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have had to rush production, and maybe none of this would have happened.” 

David looks down, gritting his teeth, his knuckles white on the handle of his cane.

Simon exhales softly. “I’m sorry… about her.”

David takes another step closer, his cane thudding on the ground ominously. “You should be. Ava’s been on life support for days and we still don’t know if she’s going to live.”

Simon inhales, startled. They found her, she’s— “She’s alive?” 

He doesn’t even see it coming. Before Simon process the movement David has punched him so hard in the gut that he doubles over, all the breath knocked out of his lungs.

David swipes his legs out of from under him with his cane and Simon crashes to his knees, chest heaving as he tries to catch a breath.

The hands on him don’t relent, forcing his arms back and keeping him pinned by the shoulders to the floor, and Simon forces himself not to struggle even though every fibre of his being is screaming that there is danger, he needs to fight back. 

*** 

Grace has to stop himself from jumping forward when the commander punches Simon and he’s forced down to the ground. He is so very tempted to run away, to not face this, but he can’t do it, he can’t leave Simon behind, that’s not fair, he promised he’d help him get home— 

The commander —David, Simon had called him David— turns his attention to Grace.

“State your name and purpose above AT-5, please,” he says, as though he didn’t just brutally attack another human being.

Grace swallows, nervous, but he squares his shoulders and tries not to come off as frightened as he looks. “My name is Dr. Ryland Grace, this is the Hail Mary. I’m on a scientific mission to investigate the solution to the astrophage problem.” 

Without saying a word David flicks a hand at one of his lieutenants, who moves away and starts typing something into the database. After a moment she looks up and shakes her head.

He refocuses on Grace. “You’re an unregistered ship traveling in COI space. I’m going to ask this again, where did you come from?” 

Grace gestures to the mission patches on his sleeves. “I’m serious, I’m a scientist. I answered a distress call, we picked it up on the radio. Can you please let my friend go?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the man’s glare only grows all the more pronounced. “I don’t know what kind of game Eden thinks it’s playing but it won’t work. Where are the rest of your crew?”

Grace shakes his head. “I’m not from wherever Eden is, I’m from Earth! I’m telling the truth, I swear! Please, just let our friend go and we’ll be on our way.” 

They seem to be ignoring him. “Where is the rest of your crew?” David asks, taking a step forward.

Grace hesitates. He does not want to tell them about Rocky, he really doesn’t. What’s the best move? Comply, run, obfuscate, what?

Before he can answer there is a clattering sound from the Mary’s airlock and the sound of chittering. Grace’s blood runs cold. Oh god, no, Rocky, don’t. 

He turns to see his best friend hanging by three legs from the ceiling of the airlock, clad all in a shimmering close-fit xenonite suit. He knew Rocky had been working on something, but— wow.

“Grace in trouble, question?” Rocky asks, his voice trilling low and menacing under the words spoken by the translator. 

The reaction is immediate. Around the room, people startle back from the strange creature that has just appeared. Some cower, others draw knives and wrenches from tool belts.

Even David falls back a step as Rocky skitters down the railing of the ramp and swings down in front of Grace. “Don’t worry, Grace,” he chirrups. “Rocky protect.”

Grace fights the urge to yell at him to get back in the ship immediately. 

The look of shock on David’s face dissipates quickly and is replaced with one of almost furious anger. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at but you’ll get nothing from us! Not a single one of you is getting anything from us. You’ve taken enough already, I don’t care what kind of sick tricks you try to pull!”

There are people approaching, creeping in slowly from the sides of the room, weapons in hand and focused on Rocky, and Grace feels his heart speed up.

He balls his hands up into fists. “I haven’t told you a single lie! I think you’re all being unreasonable. Now, let him go and we’ll leave you alone!” 

That seems to give David pause. He draws up short, and the pinched quality between his eyebrows lessens for a moment in surprise. “Do you not know?” he asks, almost laughing, his tone cynical. “Where did you come from?”

Grace frowns, annoyed. “I told you, I’m from Earth, I’m on a research mission to preserve it. I heard a distress signal and answered it. That’s all. Now, give him back.” 

David shakes his head slowly, disbelieving. “I suppose that explains why you have a Consolidation submarine anchored to your hull.”

Grace catches a flicker of movement from Simon, a look up at him with confusion. He shrugs. “I thought it could be useful. If you need it back, I can return it.”

Without realizing it, Grace has put on his teacher stance. He folds his arms. “In fact, I will, provided you fulfill my request and let my friend go.”

There, that sounds good. That sounds like something a confidant ship captain would say. (God, he wishes Yao was here. He was good at this sort of thing.) 

The Consolidation commander tilts his head, examining Grace and Rocky for a moment with his eyes like frost on steel in the weak light. “Why do you care?”

Grace frowns, looking over his glasses. He’s glad he’d stayed on the end of the ramp now, he’s got a couple inches height advantage. “Why don’t you?” 

David laughs, the sound bitter. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

He sneers, pointing at Simon in the corner with his cane. “That is the Butcher of Filament Station, surely you know who he is.”

Grace’s eyes flick to Simon, and he frowns. He’d not wanted to ask about Simon’s prison sentence, it had felt rude, but—

David steps forward, leaning heavily on the cane, and glares. “He killed sixty two people and destroyed Filament Station, and one of our only working water recyclers.”

Grace’s eyes go wide behind his glasses and he takes a step back without realizing it. That— that can’t be right, there’s no way, Simon’s not— no, no way, he doesn’t believe it, he doesn’t want to believe it, the man he knows wouldn’t do that, surely.

(You don’t really know him at all, a voice whispers in his head.) 

*** 

Simon bows his head, not wanting to see the look of disgust on Grace’s face. He can’t bear seeing the warmth in those kind blue eyes turn to mistrust and fear.

He should have known it wouldn’t last. It was a nice dream, for a while, that he could talk to someone, anyone at all,  without being hated, but… it doesn’t matter.

He stares down at the aged metal grating beneath his knees and grits his teeth. He’s right back where he started. 

Grace got him out. He pulled him from his doom and gave him the means to go on like some kind of intervening angel, and it has to be enough. Simon knew this was coming, but the rejection feels colder than he thought it would after the warmth of the Hail Mary. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, just a moment is all he needs until he can face the next moment, until—

David’s cane makes another thud on the floor, and Simon pries his eyes open to see him turning back to the central command module. “Take him away,” he says, waving a hand at Simon absently.

Simon growls. “We had a deal!” he shouts at the man. “I got your box, I get my freedom, that was the deal!” 

David looks up at him for just a moment, his voice hard and brittle. “That was the deal you had with her. Did you really think we would let you go just like that?”

Simon exhales shakily, furious and too tired to fight back. Everything in him is screaming that he needs rest, little sharp spikes of pain are shooting through his ribs and his joints are aching and headache, ow, but it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t even matter.

He did what they asked, and they’re just going to drag him back to that tiny windowless box of a cell and put him away until they need to use him again. Simon is tired of being used. 

He doesn’t fight when he’s pulled to his feet and they begin to take him away. At least the COI is too scared of him to actually do anything, for the most part.

He wishes he still had his sweater, it’s going to be very cold in that cell with just the blanket—

His head snaps up when he hears David’s next order. “Detain Dr. Grace for questioning, impound the ship. Figure out… whatever that is, take it apart if you have to.” 

Simon snaps his head around to look, only to see people closing in on Grace and Rocky. The alien is waving his little rock arms around menacingly, and so far his swipes are keeping people away from them both, but the COI officers are getting bolder.

One particularly brave soul swings at Rocky with a wrench, hitting him in the side. A long, shrill trill comes from him, and he scrambles back to his feet and bowls them over by running at their legs. 

Grace is hesitating, glancing in his direction, and Simon wants to scream at him to just run, to take the ship and go, but he can’t find the words.

The only clear thought in his head is that the Consolidation can’t get their hands on Grace. He’s too good, too kind, a radiant savior from another world, they can’t hurt him— 

Without a second thought Simon lashes out, taking advantage of the fact that his captors have relaxed their grip on him now that he’s not struggling.

It’s the work of a few seconds to drop them both— twist away, an elbow to the solar plexus, swipe the knees out from under them both, put them on the ground with a quick punch to the back of the head.

Then he’s moving, despite the screaming in his joints. He ducks under one man’s attempt to attack him, snatches the heavy iron wrench out of his hands and hits him in the back with it, then throws the wrench at a woman with a long knife attempting to stab the little rock alien as he barrels around knocking people over. 

Grace has taken those last few steps down the gangplank, obviously trying to help his friend. Simon lets some of his training take over and jumps the guy trying to detain Grace, using the momentum to take him to the ground.

He’s up on his feet again half a moment later, chest heaving from exertion. Simon’s trying to ignore the way his ribcage feels a little like broken glass at the moment. 

He reaches out and pulls Grace behind his back, moving them both backward toward the gangplank. Grace is trying to get past him, to help his friend, and he shouts, “Rocky!”

Simon shoves him gently toward the air lock and catches the hand of the man trying to slash at him. He twists, wrenching the man’s wrist bones, and the knife drops into his waiting hand.

“Go!” he shouts at Grace. “Go, get out of here!”

Rocky gallops their way, knocking people down on his way past, and barrels past Simon at full speed. “Grace go! Go now, fast, hurry, get away, bad bad bad bad bad—“

That’s all Simon hears when the alien disappears into the Hail Mary. He agrees with the sentiment. 

He stops another woman from trying to hit him the head and notices that several people are beginning to back away, eyeing him warily. Even David seems reluctant to get close to him.

Simon bares his teeth in a grimace at them, and for a single moment everything is frozen apart from the heaving of Simon’s chest as he tries to get air.

He hears Grace run up the gangplank behind him and glances back, only to see his savior scrambling through the airlock onto his ship. They make eye contact and Simon has a choice to make and only a split second to make it. 

He hesitates, his breath catching in his throat. But he runs up the ramp after Grace, ducking into the airlock and pulling the outer door closed behind him. If nothing else, the Hail Mary is a kinder place to die. 

*** 

Grace doesn’t have time to think about much apart from the fact that they need to get the airlock detached, now.

He throws the switch to disengage the docking mechanism with a grunt (that thing is heavy) and runs for the cockpit as Simon closes the inner door behind them. That’s not— he doesn’t have time to think about it.

He doesn’t have time to think about anything, actually, and thank god for Rocky because the Eridian has already gotten the engine on and primed by the time Grace makes it to the cockpit and straps himself into the pilot’s seat. 

He grabs the joystick and curves the ship up and away from the much larger Consolidation vessel, ignoring the proximity sensors beeping at him, and opens the throttle on the engine as much as he safely can. He doesn’t want to vaporize anyone if he doesn’t need to, but they have to get out of here. 

Now that they’re on the ship and away Rocky isn’t chittering quite as much, and instead seems to be focused on compensating for the extra weight of the Iron Lung.

“Should detach submarine, question?” he asks, three of his arms moving at the same time.

Grace hesitates for a moment, unsure. “No… we might still need it.”

Rocky hums. “Unlikely.” 

Grace rolls his eyes. “Can we focus on not dying or getting arrested, please?”

Rocky laughs at him but doesn’t answer. Grace opens the throttle and little more and makes a run for it. If he can just get to the place he knows the Shadow waits, they can pass through it and get back to Tau Ceti.

Hopefully. 

He exhales slightly as the artificial gravity fades away —artificial gravity! How are they doing that?!— and zero g takes over. The longer they go without being shot down or incinerated the tenser he gets, waiting for it to happen, but then there is the feeling from before of the ship slowing down incrementally, and Grace exhales.

Okay, they’re away for now, they just have to get to the star, that’s all. 

The moment lasts for an eternity, but then the resistance falls away and light pours into the cockpit from the window.

The light of Tau Ceti greets them, almost too-bright after the pitch darkness inside the Shadow, and Grace exhales, slumping in the chair, as Adrian’s gravity latches on to them and pulls them into a high orbit.

It’s alright for now. They have to keep an eye out just in case the Consolidation decides to follow them but it’s alright. They’re safe. 

Tag List! (Please god let it work this time)

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