Chapter Text
Peter felt a poke on his cheek.
He snapped his eyes open to a hand just centimeters from his face.
He meant to bite, but he couldn’t get his head or mouth to move.
!!danger danger danger!!
His vision swirled and blurred, the bright lights just now registering once the hand moved away. His head begins to pound.
!!! danger threat danger !!!
He felt a threatening hiss build up in his chest and—“What’s two plus two?”
…What?
“Hhii..shh?” The hiss fell flat and confused. His spider sense now silent. He flutters his eyes as if to better clear the fog plaguing his mind.
“Incorrect. What’s two—“ the automated voice of a woman was interrupted.
“No shush, shuddup Armando—Hey, hey! No no, it’s alright you’re safe.” The new man’s voice began to soothe as Peter’s heart rate spiked, a monitoring beep he could hear grating on his sensitive ears.
“You’re okay. You’re okay. You’ve been in a coma so your muscles are still weak. Don’t panic. Everything’s fine. You’re fine, Just listen to my voice alright?” Peter didn't know how it was possible, but he could hear flailing in the tone of voice alone. And, a coma? Why was he in a coma?
The hand was back, blocking the searing lights from his eyes. It brushed gently against his forehead. Warm, maybe I should go back to sleep—No! Stay awake Peter! Keep your eyes open. Find out what's going on.
This man’s voice was soothing and gentle. Nothing like those men before. Dr. Connors? No. It’s different. A bit raspy, very panicky and fluttery. Gentle Warm Safe.
He felt relief. Peter didn’t recognize the voice, but it was kind, and it wasn’t those men from before. He didn’t realize how cold he was until he felt the slightest contact. He wish he could will his lethargic body to shiver, but it's fruitless.
“It will take a little time for you to regain full control of your muscles, alright? Why don’t you try a little speaking again, hmm?” The man’s voice was encouraging, more steady than before. It’s like a teacher voice, Peter thought aptly, welcome to learning how to speak, for dummies.
“Can you tell me your name?”
His senses have since quieted down, aside from the constant ramble of safe safe safe, so it should be fine to answer him. Or at least try to answer him.
“Puhh..drr” He slurs, eyes fluttering in concentration.
“Hm? Peter?” The man repeats, spot on. How’d he get it first try?
“Yeh..” Peter affirms, slightly shocked. The rest of his body is starting to twitch slightly, coming out of what must have been a very long sleep.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Peter.” The man says this softly, with a bit of awe. Is he okay? Does he know?
He turns his head to see the man better. A leaned in face startles him slightly.
The man hovering over him looks…normal. Shaggy blond hair that seems just a tad overgrown. Pale skin that hasn’t seen the sun in a while. Kind, blue eyes, and the most crooked glasses Peter has ever had the pleasure of seeing. How does he even keep them up like that? They are diagonal and hanging off his chin?! Is this a crime against humanity? Please don't be a crazy person.
Peter doesn’t know what he was expecting to wake up to, but some random, normal dude he’s never seen before is somehow surprising.
Peter squints at the personification of Ken if he was a tired middle aged man. He needs to sit up and investigate his surroundings before having any kind of conversation with the mystery dude. His senses might be placated but he, himself is not. The man may be kind for now, but he hasn’t even introduced himself. Something is wrong here.
He braces his elbows against the mattress beneath him, and heaves himself up with the help of his spider strength. It looks like he lost some muscle mass, which, if the man is to be believed, means whatever coma rations he was fed were not enough to sustain him. Peter really hopes the nagging theory that’s in the back of his mind is wrong. Surely, they didn’t send me to space.
The man scrambles to help him sit up, hesitantly fluttering his hands in Peter’s general vicinity. He doesn't act like an evil scientist, but looks can be deceiving. One hand eventually decides to rest on his back for support, and the other shortly follows, holding his arm.
“Woah woah woah, easy! It took me like three sleeping and waking up sessions to sit up! You sure have places to be, huh?” Not the time for jokes, Mr. Barbie. Can't you see the serious face Peter has on right now?
“Full body movement detected. Please hold still.” The computer that he forgot was there…Armando?…interjects and comes towards him swiftly. He stiffens up, but the bot ignores his unease and efficiently takes all the tubes and wires off his body.
Peter rolls his shoulders and stretches as best he can in the stationary position. His throat is killing him. He shifts to look at the man who still hasn’t introduced himself, but he seems to be grabbing something from a storage compartment beneath him.
“…wahhdur.” Peter demands with a glare.
The man only laughs at his attitude, “Right! Your throat must be really dry!” He turns to the computer, “Armando, water please.” It looks like he has some clothes in his hands. Right, Peter is naked. Not a good sign.
Armando fetches water from the ceiling somehow. Interesting. And hands the blond the little cup.
He turns towards Peter with a smile and holds the cup to his lips to drink. What am I, a baby? Can’t talk, can’t drink, this is dumb.
Peter snatches the water cup, spilling it slightly on himself as he downs it in seconds. Before he can interrogate the man, who looks strangely overjoyed to see him just existing, Armando interjects once again.
“What’s two plus two?” It must be trying to test his mental capacity after such a long trip. The man starts helping him dress while he answers the questions. Seriously, am I dreaming?
He cleared his throat slightly,“Four.” The water made speaking so much easier.
“Correct. What’s the cube root of eight?” He lifts his arms up for the shirt, and the man pulls it over his head.
“Two.” This is starting to feel like a trivia show.
“Correct. What’s your name?” He shuffles the pants on himself, thank you.
“Peter.” Does it need his full name?
“Correct.” Apparently not. Good.
“Eat.” The bot says, giving him a tube full of brown sludge. Is this my reward? He gladly devours it in seconds. I’m still so hungry…It seems as though Armando is satisfied with its care, because it returns to a far position, more in the center of the room.
“That went a lot smoother for you than it did for me.” The man laughs awkwardly, like he doesn’t know how to hold a conversation. He seems to be fond of just watching him. Peter almost forgot he was there.
Now that he’s properly sat up, he can see the man is wearing a chemistry pun shirt and orange space pants. Damn it.
Peter tries to channel the most fierce look he can manage. “Who are you?” He seethes, a rumble in his throat.
“Ah!” The man leans back, startled, like he forgot Peter could speak to him. “…Right! Sorry sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself!”
Peter waits, but the dude looks sheepish and even more awkward, if that’s physically possible. The blond brings a hand to the back of his neck, “Well, actually, funny story really…I don’t remembermyname.” The last part is said as quickly as humanly possible, and mumbled on top of that too. If Peter didn’t have super hearing and was used to straining for mumbled conversations, it would’ve been total nonsense to his ears.
But alas, he could understand, and with that understanding came double the confusion. How did he not remember his own name?
“You… don’t remember your own name? How is that possible?”Peter didn't know whether that made him more or less suspicious. To spite his spider sense for trusting the guy, he was gonna settle on suspicious.
“Ah—well.” The man swallows audibly, “ I had assumed maybe it was a symptom of the coma…?” It was a leading question, as if Peter might have an answer for him. “But you remember your own name, so I’m not too sure.” He finished lamely, resigned to his fate of confusion. So he was also in a coma, just two coma patients in a…wherever this is.
Peter glanced around the room. It was tall and round, light gray walls and white ceilings. A ladder led up to a hatch on the ceiling, and there were more pull out beds like the one he was on, though two were still in the wall, and one was empty, must be Forgot-my-own-name guy's bed. Why would another coma patient be helping Peter? Where was everyone else?
“Okay…do you at least know where we are?” Peter glanced down at the man’s bright orange space pants, a drop of cold sweat running down his back. When he looked back up at the man’s face, his heart dropped. A wide eyed shock and then a wince, that cannot be good for me.
“I—I thought you remembered everything?” The man had begun to flail his arms, until he reigned them in and started pulling at his fingers, a whole lot of nervous ticks. Wow, really not good for me.
“My memory must be fuzzy from the coma, same as you. Tell me please?” Peter pleaded, eyes wide and slightly wet. Maybe he doesn't know. Please, please be some kind of lab or something.
“Hah..” he even sighed nervously, stop keeping me in suspense dude! “Okay…don’t panic. We’re in space.” He said it firmly, except for the crack at the end.
Maybe the crack he heard was actually the sound of his soul shattering, dread quickly flooding his body in its absence.
Peter felt faint, “Space?” He repeated, voice small.
“Space.” The man affirmed, voice gravely serious.
Peter looked into his eyes and he found the man’s face was very expressive. Sympathy, pain, fear, and loneliness. If the man had such heavy amnesia that he could not recall his own name, he must have woken up alone, and unaware too.
Peter tried to be comforted by the company, he knew he might have broken if he was all alone. But the dread felt world-ending, crushing his chest. It felt as if he was burning alive, or turning to dust. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to go home.
His throat felt sore, he thinks he might have said that out loud.
He was quickly crushed into an embrace. And while some would panic at the constriction, Peter clung back just as fiercely, as if the world was ending. And It was. Oh god. It was. And he wasn’t there to see it.
He distantly heard screaming wails, only interrupted by strong hiccups and fearful chitters.
“I’m here. I know. You're safe. I’m here.” The same soothing voice in his ear. A steady hand was rubbing his back. “Let it out. It’s okay to cry. You’re safe.”
Cry?
Only then did Peter realize the wetness on his cheeks. The tremble that wracked through his frame like an earthquake. It was his wails that echoed through the ship. A spaceship. They were in space.
The man did not say it was okay, because it wasn’t. He did not say it would be alright, because it wouldn’t. But he held Peter anyway, even when Peter squeezed him just a bit too tight.
Peter sagged against him, cries lowering in volume from desperate wails to quiet sobs. If he noticed the fellow shaking of the man’s shoulders, or the tears he could feel land on his head, he wouldn’t say anything.
Grace was panicking.
Grace, yes his name was Grace. He remembered it now. Remembered holding a child in his class—"Mr. Grace, I—I wanna go home." They sobbed in his arms, a bit dramatic for a B grade on a test, but he could understand—Yes, Grace was his name, at least part of it.
Grace, Grace, Grace.
He doesn't know what to do, he is totally out of his depth here. In his arms, the teen—Peter, slowly calmed what could only be described as wails of despair. They faded out to trembles and the occasional, hiccuping sob.
Peter, Peter, Peter.
He cooed gently and lightly rocked the boy, rubbing his back. His own eyes burned with tears, this is ridiculous. He doesn't have any memories, he has to save the sun, and they had the audacity to send a kid to space on top of that. He thinks this time it's justified when he says it, but seriously, uncensored and capitalized, What The Fuck.
Grace wants to have his own breakdown, but he had his time when he was alone, he privately panics an appropriate amount about the dead bodies that are currently still in the wall right next to them. He hopes Peter doesn't remember them—maybe that will dull the hurt when he finds out.
He shuddered slightly, squeezing the boy. Why was Peter so cold? Trying to rub more warmth into the child, he quickly snatches up the nearby sheets, and a quilt he had found in the various items on the floor, though the stretch he did to reach it definitely cracked his back in some way.
He bundled up Peter in a solid blanket burrito, the kid was strangely docile after crying his heart out, all of the previous hostility, which was admittedly adorable and concerning in equal amounts, was thrown out the window. Into the vacuum. Because they were in space. Dang it, why does it have to be us in space!?
Distractedly pulling the kid back into his arms, he tried to think about his new plan of action. He remembered some of his name, so he could probably, maybe, get into the control room and figure out where they are in space. He needed to plan some kind of funeral for the rest of the crew who didn't make it, and he needed to make sure Peter stayed happy, healthy, and safe, preferably not needing to lift a finger, so he can take him back home, all in one piece. Maybe the blanket burrito can be a permanent staple?
His musings are cut short by a soft, rumbling sound coming from the bundle in his grasp. Holy shiitake mushrooms, is he purring? That is so freaking cute. Despite Grace's obvious lack of awareness of many situations currently, that doesn't mean he is totally oblivious. He noticed Peter's… inhuman sounds the very first time he hissed as soon as he woke up. Granted, he kinda assumed it might have been a quirky teenager thing…like a furry or something? Why does he remember that? Probably his students, it's always his students. He should probably ask how old Peter is at some point.
But when the chitters, growls, and musical wails of despair showed up it definitely solidified his understanding that Peter was a little special. Especially with his faster reaction time, and the overall improved control of his bodily functions at a way faster pace, though that could be attributed to his younger age, Grace didn't really believe it, Peter was probably enhanced in some way. Is that why they sent him, because he's different? They sent an enhanced child to space?
Grace felt irritation and protectiveness build up in his chest. They would be getting a piece of his mind once they got home. How dare they. This was totally irresponsible, immoral!
That reminds him, he can ask. Peter didn't know they were in space, but maybe he remembers something else? He at least had more recollection than Grace did, remembering his own name off the bat and all. He glances down at his the kid, jeez he needs to work on his attachment issues, and reluctantly pulls away to see his face. It seems the action was just as painful for Peter, considering the kid just went forward with him when he leaned back, he might just die from the cuteness before he can save the stars and get them both home. Deep breaths, Grace.
He pats the brown fluff of hair peaking out from the quilt. "Peter," he says, trying to go for a coaxing tone, "Do you think you can remember anything else? Your age, Mission details, anything is fine." He pauses. "Nothing is fine too, you can remember nothing and that's alright. W-well I mean it's not okay, I mean I won't be upset—" Peter huffs in annoyance at his rambling. Grace thinks it sounds fond. See? he isn't the only one already attached!
Peter starts mumbling his response, refusing to look back up at him, and continue to smush his face into Grace's shoulder. Good thing Grace has a built-in grumpy mumble translator! Thank you, years of teaching experience!
"..'m seventeen. B'fore the coma anyway." Came the first, hesitant response. Though it was what he expected, Grace still felt a little part of himself shrivel up and die inside at the confirmation, so young and sent on such a dangerous mission, what is wrong with those people? He doesn't entertain the thought to count the years of the coma, even if he could remember them, there clearly wasn't any obvious physical development if Peter was still so small, maybe an enhanced metabolism? and obviously no mental development since he was asleep the whole time.
"I'd tell you how old I was if I could remember," Grace says, a self deprecating humor to his voice. Then a realization struck him, "Oh, but I did remember my name earlier! Part of it at least, you must have transferred some of your brains to me," he jokes, and he glances down to Peter looking at him now, expectant.
"Right." He says awkwardly, "It's Grace. I mean, I'm Grace. Nice to meet you, Peter."
Peter and Grace in space, he mused, if it wasn't so devastating, it'd have a nice ring to it.
"…Nice to meet you, Grace," Peter says, and he feels a warmth at the sprinkle of a normal conversation in such a crazy circumstance, "I'd say you look forty, honestly. Like if a Ken doll was middle aged and tired." The sass is astronomical, he even smirks. Well, moment ruined. Grace thinks he just suffered third degree burns from that actually. Looks like the docile, friendly, purring Peter has been boxed away. He still laughs though, because it's funny, because at least the kid has the energy to joke, because he thinks he might cry otherwise. He laughs, and Peter laughs too.
They are both laughing, they laugh so much it's painful. Grace falls off the bed, and Peter laughs harder, pointing at him, the audacity. Which makes Grace laugh even more, he thinks he ends up crying anyway, from the laughter, or the lack of oxygen, or the hysteria.
Once the laughter finally dies down, Peter hums in consideration. He didn't trust Grace before, but he might as well now. It's a quick switch up, but Peter can tell Grace is pretty much clueless about everything, and obviously has already trauma bonded with Peter or something, not that it's mutual, Peter is just indulging him obviously.
Grace is an interesting name, ironic too, considering the what the mission and ship are called. The Hail Mary, from what Peter can recall, a space mission sent to some other star that, despite being in range for an Astrophage infection, is not dimming. The plan was to send three people there to check it out, hopefully find out why, and get a solution to pack up and bring back to earth. From Peter's understanding, they should be light years away from earth, and the fuel itself is Astrophage, which they had bred on earth, and presumably had a very limited amount of. He didn't remember what system they were supposed to be in, something with a T?
Peter relays this to Grace, who is still on the floor, now sat criss-cross applesauce and listening attentively, who's the teacher now! Peter tastefully leaves out his suspicions on the survivability of this mission, he really wants to be wrong, no need to freak out the amnesiac looking at him with stars in his eyes.
A lot of the mission was hidden from the public. You never know, they could have made tons of Astrophage to come back home. They just didn't say anything, maybe because of the danger of the mission, they didn't want to give false hope.
After the fun little exposition, Grace seems to be processing everything rather well. He acknowledged it previously, but Grace really does have an expressive face. He's deep in thought right now, reminiscent of a scientist deep in hypothesizing, all he needs is a clipboard to aggressively write a bunch of notes to complete the image, and the muttering, of course.
Grace does seem confused by one thing, "don't we have an extra person? There's me, you, and…two others, they…didn't make it, I'm sorry." Halfway through he takes on a somber tone.
Peter feels his heart squeeze in sympathy and sadness. He didn't want to come, and two people who did, died. If he wasn't forced to go, Grace would be alone.
He at least should tell him the truth about one thing, "Oh yeah, uhm…I was a last minute addition, ya know? L-like I don't think we really met before. I was a scientist working at Oscorp in New York before the launch. B-but I'm sorry for your loss." He was never going to admit that he didn't come here willingly.
"A last minute edition? Do you…I mean uh—did they send you because you were enhanced? I-I mean are you? It's totally fine if you are I don't care." Grace quickly reassures, waving his hands around. Peter doesn't think he could muster up any nervousness when the only other person on this ship is such a wreck.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah I am. Enhanced, I mean. You were right, that's probably one of the main reasons," less so because he was a normal enhanced guy, and more so because he was Spider-Man, but Peter doesn't say that, "I mean, I'm a scientist too, bioengineering stuff." He wants to step far away from this subject, before he says something incriminating.
Peter distracts himself by pointing out the previous irony aloud, Grace seems to enjoy Peter making fun of him, maybe Peter should still be wary of a mental break, just in case. "So, Hail Mary full of Grace, huh? Was that planned back at your little science base?"
Grace stares at him, searching his face, but he allows the change of subject as he huffs a laugh, "…A coincidence, I'm sure." He says it with a slight hesitation, as if the mission might have really been named for him. "I think I'm a scientist too. I can't believe it, we are the first humans to travel outside of our solar system! Actually, that reminds me, since I remember my name, and you, yours, we can get into the control room! That'll tell us more about where we are, and maybe what we have to do?" His hand waves around in the air as if swatting around some form of physical thought in the air.
He looks off to the side in thought, "We probably haven't arrived at our final destination anyway, in a mission like this one, they would at least wake us up a week beforehand to get our bearings together, right?"
He looks back at Peter. "Do you want to stretch your legs now? Take a look around the ship? I can give you a tour, or you can explore on your own, or uh, we can go to the control room first, then the tour?" He really talks a lot, and that's a huge thing coming from Peter.
Before he can start on some longer ramble, Peter makes his decision. "Let's go to the control room first, information should be the priority, then you can show me around the ship."
"Alright!" Grace claps for emphasis as he hops up from the floor, only stumbling slightly at a fallen sheet from the bed at his ankles. "To the hatch!"
Peter watches as he ambles up to the ladder, before seemingly remembering that one of us has just woken up and has yet to start walking. He shuffles back over quickly. "Do you need me to carry you? I have enough strength since I've been up a while, you can get on my back maybe?"
Peter eyes him up and down judgmentally, Grace is surprisingly toned for what should be a long space trip coma, but that doesn't mean he gets Peter's compliments. He can walk on his own, okay? No he is not grumpy.
"No I wanna walk." And he immediately untangles himself from the blankets to lunge off the bed as soon as possible. Grace yelps at his amazing show of speed as Peter careens towards the wall. He sticks his feet to the floor and a hand on the wall for support, legs shaking slightly. Grace is fussing at him, the worrywart, "A-Alright but slow down a little?" He says, but slow and steady is for the weak!
Peter inches along the wall as fast as he can. Which is slow, but it was probably faster than Grace when he started walking. He makes it to the ladder on his own, despite the constant hovering shadow of an antsy Grace.
"I'll wait down here, just to catch you if you fall, okay?" Peter grunts in affirmation and strain as he immediately starts ascending. Fall? Please. He can stick. He slips almost immediately, but his hands stuck to the bar keep him steady enough, "Careful!" Grace almost shouts, it looks like he's five seconds away from snatching Peter off the ladder, so he starts to climb faster to get out of reach.
He reaches the hatch in record time, and pushes it open. It's heavy, but the super strength helps him out. He peaks his head out and looks around, it's a lab.
He hums in interest at his surroundings, crawling up into the room. He ignores Grace as he climbs up the ladder after him. Interesting! They really have everything in this ship, and it's surprisingly large. he wanders around, observing the various tech and machinery, till he notices the window.
It's one thing to know logically that you are in space, but it's another thing entirely to see it.
He's breathless as he presses himself into the concave window. It's just void and stars, millions of stars, no earth in sight. If they fail, then one day these stars will all be gone. And they will be floating in this cold, empty void. He shivers. Peter really should've dragged the quilt up with him, did they have to make the stupid ship so cold?
He hears huffs behind him, looks like Grace finally pulled himself up and out of the dorms.
"You aren't dying are you? I can hear the heavy breathing all the way from over here."
"Ugh, brat." Grace complains fondly, "Not all of us are young and spry, you know? And to think I brought the quilt up for you."
Peter looks back at him, and verifies indeed that Grace had dragged the quilt up with him.
"Oh. Thanks, Grace." Peter says genuinely, Aunt May instilled the art of politeness in him, and he has sorta, kinda been failing so far, but he's probably gonna die in space so he gives himself grace, hah, "I can't believe how cold they set the temp. Do you think we can fix it?" He grabs the quilt from him and wraps it around himself.
"Yea, I think I saw a thermostat somewhere in here, let me find it." Peter turns back to the window and sits back down in the jutted out space, listening to Grace shuffle around the room and bump into at least three corners, " Does 25 Celsius sound okay to you?"
That's around 77 degrees in Fahrenheit, and warm enough for Peter to stop losing feeling in his limbs. "Yeah, sounds perfect."
"Alright, good, I fixed it," Peter turns to look at him, he's ruffling his hair, a real fidgeter at all times, "let's see about that control room then, yeah?" His glasses are actually correctly on his face this time, and despite not knowing him for more than an hour, Peter feels like this is a miracle.
"Yes, let's figure out where we are already!" They quickly make their way to the next hatch, and a robot voice stops their entry.
"Please state your full name for entry."
Grace and Peter look at each other, and then back at the hatch. Peter steps up.
"Peter Parker."
The hatch opens, they both slump in relief, and then scramble inside.
The control room is just like what you'd expect a spaceship control room to look like. There's tons of screens all over the wall and ceiling, and two pilot chairs. Peter does not want to touch anything, he's in no way a pilot.
"Uhm…do you remember how any of this works?" He turns to Grace, but his face is one of pensive anxiety.
"Uhh…No. I cannot recall ever piloting a ship of any kind in my life. I was a scientist and school teacher. Not an astronaut." He maneuvers around trying not to touch anything in the cramped space, and falls into one of the pilot chairs.
"Pilot detected." The computer says. "Angular Anomaly."
Peter plops down next to him in the other pilot chair, confused and concerned as they examine the multitude of screens.
"Computer," Inquires Grace, "what is an angular anomaly?" We are so cooked. Peter realizes.
"Angular Anomaly: an object or body designated as critical is not at the expected location angle by at least 0.01 radians."
"What body is anomalous?" Peter asks the ship, Mary, he decides to name her.
"Angular anomaly." Not very helpful. "Thank you, Mary." Says Grace, exasperated.
"You're welcome, Dr. Grace."
"Okay let's look at some of these screens, there has to be something." He says considerably.
"As long as you don't touch anything and blow us up." Peter says warily.
The chairs swivel 360-degrees, and Grace takes the advantage to spin around. Peter spots one screen that's different, and points it out. Stopping in front of a screen that has a blinking red boarder, they lean in to get a closer look.
: Angular anomaly : Relative Motion Error
: Predicted Velocity : 11,423 KPS
: Measured Velocity : 11,872 KPS
: Status : Auto-correcting Trajectory. No Action Required.
Well, that solves that problem. Above the screen is a picture of a star, Peter assumes it must be the star they are headed towards. Grace starts to touch the screen, attempting to zoom in like you would on an iPhone. It works, and we can see the an extremely detailed rendition of the sunspots. Either this is an extremely high-resolution picture, or an extremely high-resolution solar telescope. It might be a live image, they keep in mind to check it in an hour to see if the location of the spots has moved from rotation.
There's various other screens, fortunately labeled—Life support, Airlock status, Engines, Robotics, Generators, Centrifuge, Astrophage, and many more. They focus on the Astrophage screen, from Peter's recollection, that was the fuel.
: Remaining: 20,906 KG
: Consumption Rate: 6.045 G/s
Interesting. Below those numbers is a diagram of the ship itself. It labels the various rooms, including the dormitory that they woke up in. Additionally, they can see the fuel tanks, one of which is empty. There's a button labeled "Jettison" which neither of them want to touch with a 10 foot pole, especially in a spaceship far away from home. However, It does makes logical sense, if the fuel tank is empty, then the ship can release the extra weight to better conserve the fuel reserves. But we won't be touching it for now.
Grace seems to gain a memory if the scrunch in his face is any indication. "I remember, I studied Astrophage. It's always got a constant temperature of 96.415 degrees Celsius, no matter what we attempted to do to change it. It never cools down, and it never heats up. That's why it can survive on the sun. And it looks like you remembered right, Astrophage is our fuel. It makes sense, it can propel itself with light, and the way it breeds means we could produce millions of it in just a couple months. Definitely ideal." He nods his head, solidifying his line of thought.
"Yeah, definitely efficient." Peter agrees, "But we still don't know where exactly we've been heading full speed at, especially since it seems like we are slowing down."
Grace scans the screens some more, and comes to a stop on one labeled "Beetles."
"Beetles? If there are beetles on this ship, we have to know." They both shudder.
"Beetles do NOT taste good." Peter informs Grace, just to be a little shit.
"I am going to ignore what you just said for my peace of mind." Grace says cheerfully, but his heartbeat spikes with a little concern.
Peter grins as they both focus on the screen. It's broken into four segments, each one showing nearly the same thing. The schematics each show a bulbous, oblong shape with a pointed head and a trapezoid on the back. If you tilt your head just right and squint, it sorta looks like a beetle.
"Thank god it's not an actual beetle." Grace mumbles, but Peter will always hear him, especially in this ship.
Everything is so quiet, compared to Grace, compared to the loud, constant bustle of New York, his home. Peter only hears the subtle whir of the engines, quieter than he expected them to be in the vacuum of space, and Grace, the loud beat of his heart, the expansion of his lungs. He’s getting off topic.
Each beetle is labeled with it's own name:John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Ah, it's a Beatles band reference.
These things are no real Beatles, Grace taps on John and it zooms into some schematics. The singular beetle has 120KG of Astrophage, with a last memory check of 3 days ago, and 5 TB of storage functioning correctly.
Peter is struck with the realization almost immediately. They were made to carry information we find. They were made to be sent back to earth.
He glances over at Grace, who looks like he's connecting dots he really, sincerely, does not want to connect.
"The astrophage it took to get us here, we would need double the amount to go back." He says.
Peter stares at him, a lump in his throat when he swallows.
"We were sent on a space mission. To another star, light years away. With however much mass the Hail Mary is, and only—" he glances back at the remaining fuel in our tanks, "20,862 KG left, there's no way we could make it back."
"This is a one way ticket" Grace sounds horrified, Peter can hear his own heart beat spike to match the growing panic of Grace. "We’re supposed to—" he whirls to face Peter for the first time in 5 minutes.
"Oh my god. Peter." Grace looks like he's just been told that he has an hour left to live, his face is changing colors rapidly. "They sent a child to die in space." He says faintly. Actually, is he going to faint?
Peter's lip trembles slightly, "I'm not a child, I'm probably twenty something now—"
But he can't get his defense out before Grace lunges at him again. Guess it's hugging time, again. And no, Peter is not crying, why do you ask?
They sit there, together, for a long time.
After having a nice long crying session, Grace decides to finish investigating the rest of the control room. He cannot believe that they let a seventeen year old boy on a suicide mission. He didn't remember volunteering, but the fact that Peter is here really distracted him from the whole impending death. He'd rather die alone up here, then allow Peter to die with him. But he can't fix it, he can't do anything. And he knows that Peter must have volunteered too, and clearly doesn't want to talk about it any longer.
Teenagers. He is definitely already sick of emotional scenes after the first one in the dorms. Grace knows Peter must be very advanced for his age, considering they let him on a Sun-saving suicide trip, but Grace wanted to hope that he isn't so mature that he's ready to die. Though the other option of suppressing emotions is not ideal either.
Anyway, they finally found out where they were headed, and Grace got a few more memory blurbs shoved into his head too, so that's just great.
It's a system called Tau Ceti, 11.9 light years away from earth, and within the eight light year range of other stars with an Astrophage infection, yet the star has never dimmed like they had. Currently, we are about a little less than a week away from arriving at the star. When he does the math, because of time dilation, for them it took four years to get here, and for Earth, around thirteen. Grace is very curious to know if the star has a Petrova line. He recalls Astrophage went to Venus to breed, particularly because of the carbon dioxide the planet is made up of. He would like to use the petrovascope provided, but Mary, as Peter dubbed her, informs him that it cannot be used while the spin drive is active, which Grace assumes has something to do with the engine or movement of the ship. Not ideal.
Grace would like to keep Peter uninvolved, because he really shouldn't be here, but he knows it's not right to exclude him from helping, especially when he's going to…die on this ship, for the mission.
They need to figure out how exactly the beetles work, how can they send the information back to earth once they have it? And what exactly are they even looking for? What are they supposed to do, throw the remaining Astrophage fuel at Tau Ceti and see what happens?
This is really, seriously, truly not Ideal. Grace has no idea why he was the one sent here, he is not any kind of astronaut, just a scientist who studied Astrophage a little! Why would they ever send him or Peter to fix this?
They did a lot of brain mashing, throwing ideas at each other and various random math equations to feel more informed. Apparently, the gravity for the ship is a 1.5G force compared to earth, which is why everything seemed just the slightest bit heavier.
Peter explored the ship on his own, and then they tag teamed the lab. There is almost everything under the sun equipment-wise for the lab. Peter sits on a big table in the center, opening up more about what he did on Earth before the mission, while Grace investigates a really weird looking x-ray.
"Yeah, I got hired for an internship basically right away," Peter preens, he really is a genius, Grace feels pride despite only knowing him for a day, "I got up the ranks in only, like, two weeks! We got an Astrophage sample and I worked with the head scientist on it, his name was Dr. Connors—" Grace hums along at the appropriate intervals, turning his attention to fully face Peter.
Peter huffs in annoyance," But some guy, figured out how to breed Astrophage like, a day or two before us! So we had changed our project initiative to focus on keeping everyone alive for however long it takes for the mission to send us the way to fix things. Ya know? Like, food preservation, warmth preservation, keeping the survival rates up."
"Oh, that's great, Peter! I focused mainly on the space stuff, its wonderful that you had such a huge part in making sure everyone on earth survived while the Hail Mary was gone." Grace praises.
He hums in gratitude, but Peter still has a ticked off expression on his face, "I just can't believe someone actually figured it out only a day before us. I mean, his name was literally Ryland, what kind of dumb name is that?"
Grace's brain stuttered for a moment "—uh."
"Like, seriously, good for him and all, but his parents had no taste. Ryland? Really? So lame. Bryan or Richard was right there!" Peter complains wildly, very salty, waving his hands in the air as if to banish the name from existence.
He looks at Grace expectedly, waiting for agreement. "You—I mean. I just…that was me…?"
Peters eyes widened. "What? What do you mean?"
Ryland Grace winced, and chuckled awkwardly. "I-I mean I'm Ryland. I discovered the way to breed Astrophage, a-and yea, my name is Ryland Grace, I just remembered."
They stare blankly at each other for a moment, until Peter starts laughing. He points at Grace and, between giggles and adorable little chitters, he croaks out "Y-you're name is Ryland, that's like the worst name I've ever heard."
Grace huffs, and tries to look affronted, but the creases near his eyes and the twitchy corner of his lips betray him. "It's not my fault I was called Ryland, I didn't choose it, man!" He throws his arms up in the air, an exaggerated exasperation in his being.
Peter just laughs harder, "I can't believe it's actually you, I know why you didn't remember your first name sooner, I wouldn't either !"
Wow, he's really going for my soul, just a full scale attack. " You're one to talk, Peter Parker." I say sassily, trying to retaliate against this unjustified hater behavior against my person.
"Oh please, that's like one of the best names you've ever heard in your life!" Peter says, flipping his hair like a diva, which has grown out only slightly from the long trip.
Alas, he's right, and Ryland Grace admits defeat, crumpling to the floor in a fake despair. "You've killed me, I don't think I'll ever recover." He expects at least some fake sympathy, but Peter just giggles some more. The betrayal stings, I will remember this, Peter.
After that emotional rollercoaster in the control room, Peter thinks him and Grace have adjusted pretty well!
He got the chance to explore the ship on his own, and finds his favorite room to be what Grace has called the Don't-Go-Crazy Room. Over the course of five days they haven't done too much. So Peter will sit here to pass the time when he doesn't feel like scrolling on whatever random social media he has access to on the laptops they found.
His favorite view is the skyline, and the one from atop a skyscraper. He was surprised that they had included it, but when he dazes off just enough, it's almost like he's back home. He squeezes the quilt around himself.
Despite the temperature increase, he commonly drags it with him everywhere. They ended up finding more fuzzy blankets, but those are for the fort Peter made in the dorms where they sleep. Peter thought the beds were uncomfortable, so in the corner is a huge nest of every sheet and blanket present in the ship, including Graces, on the floor.
Grace tried to persuade him to give at least one blanket so he could sleep on the bed, but Peter hissed when he let a single word out about it, so he gave up. It's big enough to fit five people, so Grace accepts the fate of the floor bed. Peter is silently pleased by the added warmth of a body nearby while he sleeps. He really is glad, selfishly, that he's not alone.
The only other thing to note is the funeral they had on day three. It was for Grace's teammates. Peter supposes they were his, too. Olesya Ilyukhina and Yáo Li-Jie. One at a time, they settled their bodies, dressed in their space suits, lay down in the air lock. Grace tucked the pictures and very personal items of each person in their grasp, the firm, cold body capable of weighing it down enough to stay.
Grace did a speech for each person, on all he remembered. It wasn't much, but it brought tears to both of their eyes as they watched each body sail out into the open space, to sleep among the stars.
Peter wished he could have known them, and he says so when they send them off. Grace wraps an arm around him in a side hug as they sit in silence after the event. It was heavy, they seemed to have a lot of emotional moments in a very short amount of time.
Peter hopes this isn't becoming a trend, he would rather not cry every day.
On the end of day five, they find themselves back in the control room. The countdown is almost up, and Peter's senses are trying to warn him of something.
It's not too loud, clearly not an incoming catastrophic event, but it sets him on edge nonetheless. They've been in the room for the past hour, dedicating more time to figuring out all the screens in preparation for whatever is about to happen.
A main, positive discovery is the Beetles. Well—how the beetles work. With the aforementioned laptops, there was everything they had from earth digitized and on a screen. No, literally everything. It seems the project lead, Eva Stratt from Grace's recollections, had made sure everything from the very minute the launch was going to take place, was uploaded to their devices. So, many many reference manuals.
Grace played with the panel and found out the first discovery: how to report back to Earth with them. And in the control room, we found out the next step: how to launch them.
Conveniently, all it took was some digging through the beetles U.I. to find the launch button. As far as they can tell, that's literally all there is to it. The beetles course correct and figure out the directions on their own, just as the Hail Mary itself did. No need to introduce human error, which is a good thing for us all.
They come to the realization that once the timer is up, the gravity is too. Peter knows for a fact that he's sticking to the floor, he wonders privately how similar it would feel to swinging in the air on his webs, he misses it dearly.
Grace is giving himself a pep-talk, which is hilarious, but Peter really hopes the guy doesn't throw up. Maybe he should stick to Grace and keep him in place? That probably wouldn't help the feeling of falling, though. Peter shuffles away slightly, as much as he can, at least, being in the second pilot chair.
They watch in suspense as the timer ticks down from ten seconds.
"Four…three…two…"
"Here we go," Grace said to himself. Peter braces for nothing.
"One…zero."
Right on schedule, the engines shut off. The 1.5 g's they've been feeling all this time vanish. Gravity is gone.
Peter sticks to the floor and his seat. He glances over at Grace, who is flailing like an angry cat.
"I'm not falling!" Grace screams to himself. "Everything is fine, it's just space!"
Peter snorts at him. Grace whips around and almost kicks like every screen in the room. "Oh gosh…" he whimpers. "Gosh…this is…"
Grace is clearly freaking out but seeing me calm and normal chills him out slightly. There is no vomiting, thank god.
"You can do it Grace, we have to save humanity, we can't let them all die because you can't handle zero g." Peter says, a slight smug tone to his voice.
Grace looks at him weirdly, he thinks it might be an attempt at a scolding look, but it failed due to the unsteadiness. "Ugh…How are you not floating right now…You are just sitting there normally! in the seat! This is ridiculous!"
Peter laughs at his struggling as Grace begins to get used to the feeling of no gravity.
He wriggles around and attempts to properly strap himself in, which he should've done beforehand, the dummy. Good thing Peter remembered to put all their junk away, else it'd be floating around and a crash hazard when they went to go back to the dorms.
The navigation screen reads Primary Transit Complete. The Spin Drive says Thrust: 0. But most importantly, the petrovascope screen says Ready.
Grace seems absolutely giddy to find out if Tau Ceti has a Petrova line. And to be fair, Peter is too. This is their only chance, really. It will look pretty hopeless for humanity if there isn't one.
Grace angles the scope to the star, zooming in with a smartly made interface. He breathes in as he reaches up to toggle the switch, and—"Yes." They collectively heave a sigh of relief as Grace claps. As the switch is toggled, the remaining stars sans Tau Ceti disappears, there's a hazy ring around the star, and right near the bottom left portion they spot it—a beautiful, dark-red arch coming out of it.
They both do an attempt at a celebratory dance, which makes them both look like wriggling worms, but the failure of suave moves does nothing to dampen the relief at their first success.
Until they see another spot of light on the screen, just a blip.
"What's that?" Grace says "Another clue?"
Peter leans in close to the screen, sticking back down to the chair for stability.
"It looks like…an object headed towards us?" The light source steadily becomes brighter in a gradual way. It looks to be like…Astrophage? A clump of Astrophage headed in their direction or something.
They keep watching as it grows, then finally it disappears.
"Huh," Grace says, and we look at each other in consideration, then shrug.
Back to the Petrova line. First they need to find out what planet it leads to, they will have to work out how to navigate and steer the ship, but that's for later. Grace pans the scope back to the line, but something is wrong now.
Half of the line is…gone.
"What's going on?" Grace mumbles.
Peter feels both his own and Grace's heart rate spike. Zooming in, the cutoff of the line is straight, certainly to a surgical degree. But Astrophage doesn't just disappear. There must be some debris, something on the camera lens, maybe they could get a sample of the Astrophage already?
Peter suggests a better visible light view, maybe it could help them get a better idea of what's going on. Grace agrees and hits the toggle button.
That's when they see it.
There's an object blocking the view of the Petrova line. It's right next to their ship, maybe a few hundred meters away. It's roughly triangle-shaped and it has gable-like protrusions along its hull.
Yes. A hull. It's not an asteroid—the lines are too smooth; too straight. This was an object that was made. This is a freaking space ship! And clearly not human! Intelligent aliens made a ship and are here right now in front of them.
Peter is gobsmacked, to say the least. He screeches in excitement.
"It's another ship! Oh my god, aliens are real!" He whips around to Grace, who is changing colors again.
Grace is realizing two things: humanity isn't alone, and they've just met our neighbors.
"Holy fucking shit!"