Chapter Text
Ryland has been staring at this email for the last five minutes trying to puzzle out if Stratt was serious or not.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: New Office2-50-3-Q
He knows the literally meaning of what the email is saying, of course. It’s a specific room number formatted according to the alphanumeric bulkhead numbering system. The first number means the deck the room is on, the second is the frame number, the third is the transverse position and the letter designates the room’s function. Normally, they don’t bother with the whole numbering system, there are a few locations on the ship that are important and most people just call them by whatever they are. But some places you can’t help but learn the actual designation for after seeing it on the bottom of emails enough times, this room is one.
Ryland groans into his hands and looks around his claustrophobic, dingy, and cluttered office. The room is barely more than 3-foot by 4-foot room, a closet with a desk in it. And he means that literally; it used to be a janitorial supply closed before he took it over. The room was only big enough to fit his desk and his chair. Above his desk was shelving units, cluttered with his paperwork, that he hit his head on at least twice a day. The light in the room came from a single bulbed pot-light in the ceiling and the small window in the door that let light from the hallway into the room. The desk itself was barely big enough to do anything; his printer took up most of his space which meant he ended up doing most of his worked crammed up against the wall. Any office would realistically be an upgrade, and he knows for a fact the office Stratt has assigned for him would be 6 times as big and nicer than this one, even with him sharing it. But… well, the office is his dang it. Why should he have to give it up for fricken Scythers.
He checks the time. Alright, his moping time is up. He has to be in Lab C in 5 minutes for one of his teaching sessions with Dubois and Shapiro and the lab itself is a 10-minute walk from where he is. He slams close his laptop, only a little more aggressively than needed, and decides to pack up and move his office after he’s done teaching.
Ryland can’t help but notice the curious glances from various administrators, lower ranked scientists, and even the vat’s crew as he makes his way to the Lab. He’s used to a small amount of interest when he goes anywhere, part in parcel of being Stratt’s science lapdog, but the grape vine must have been really working fast this time as there was more muttering as he passed than usual. Ryland sets his eyes straight ahead and fruitlessly endeavours to ignore it.
“Dr. Grace!” Dubois greets warmly when Ryland enters the Lab. “I’m glad we have our teaching session today.”
“Oh, yeah? I always appreciate your enthusiasm, Dr. Dubois,” Ryland says as he settles down on the other side of the lab table from the other two scientists. He ended up being only a few minutes late this time.
“Before we begin the lesson, Martin and I were discussing the meeting from this morning,” Shapiro says, dropping the other shoe, as Ryland expected. The two made a good team in that way.
“I think we should focus on the lesson,” Ryland tries. “We only have so much time together, I want to use it effectively.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Grace, just to be clear do you mean the launch of the Hail Mary, or are you implying that you will not be continuing to act as our teacher in the near future?” Dubois ask, his brows scrunching up in concern.
“What?” Ryland asks startled. He hadn’t considered the possibility that Scyther would take over his teaching. Theoretically, Scyther might be more qualified for it, he taught at a university level, which is clearly better than Ryland’s secondary school teaching certificate, not to mention Scyther also had a PhD in molecular biology.
Ryland scrambles for an answer, “Um, no. At least not that I have been made aware of as of yet. For now, I am still your teacher. At least I hope—,” Ryland cuts himself off. “I had been referring to the launch and nothing else,” he finishes lamely.
Dubois and Shapiro share a look.
“That’s good to hear,” Shaprio says, nodding gamely. “Neither Martin nor I would want to be taught by anyone else.”
Ryland feels his cheeks flush a bit. He busies himself with opening the files he wanted to cover on his laptop. “Right,” he says awkwardly, “Let’s begin. Today, let’s start by reviewing Astrophage’s molecular proteins...”
The lesson goes well, after that. Dubois and Shapiro were always attentive in class, asking keen questions that Grace only ever sometimes knows how to answer. Often the three of them would end up speculating together and coming up with hypotheses that Ryland could take back to the lab to test, when he had the time.
At the end of class, Ryland takes a moment to browse over the new emails he had received in the last hour and checks his schedule for the rest of the day. Meetings that had been there this morning were suddenly missing.
Dubois clears his throat from where he was slowly packing up next to Shapiro. Both of them were taking longer to clear off then they usually do. Stratt must have cancelled his meetings. He’s not sure how to read that other than her deciding it wasn’t worth it to keep him involved now the Scyther was here. It should be a good thing. Half the time Ryland can’t get any science done because he is always being pulled into some meeting or another. It doesn’t feel good.
“Dr. Grace,” Dubois asks, a touch uncertainly. Ryland looks up. Oh, he had been trying to get Ryland’s attention. “Has Director Stratt decided who you will be sharing an office space with?”
“Martin and I don’t have a lot of room in our office but I’m sure we could find the space,” Shapiro says with a small smile. Yeah, no, that sounded like hell, to be honest. Their office is used less for administration as it is for… conjugal visits. In reality, Shapiro and Dubois aren’t even supposed to share an office since they are the primary and secondary Science Specialists for the Hail Mary. However, every time Ilyukhina was unable to enter her dormitory room because it was otherwise occupied, she would claim squatter’s rights in Ryland’s office until he did something about it. Because apparently, this was his problem to solve. Eventually, he went to Stratt and made her find a room the two could use so he could actually get some work done. Stratt hadn’t liked it but said any consequences of their primary and secondary Science Specialists being in such close proximity together would be on Ryland’s head. Whatever that meant.
“That’s kind, but uh, no,” Ryland says peering over his glasses at the two of them. “Stratt has already reassigned me anyways. I need to start moving my things over now.”
“Let us help you!” Shapiro says brightly.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Ryland asks, bemused at her enthusiasm.
Shapiro blows a raspberry at him, “Nothing that can’t wait. Just because you are run off your feet, doesn’t mean we all are.” Run off his feet? Yeah, tell that to Ryland’s empty schedule.
“The offer is kind,” Ryland repeats. “But you don’t need to waste your time helping me move boxes.”
Dubois steps forward to where Ryland is still sitting with that warm smile he always wears, “Many hands make light work, Dr. Grace. Please, we insist.”
“Besides,” Shapiro says, “We should know where your office is, in case anything comes up.”
“I think if anything comes up your supposed to go to Scyther now,” Ryland says, only a little bit surly.
Shapiro and Dubois share another look between themselves.
“Director Stratt said that the reporting structure remains the same as it always has,” Dubois states, matter of fact. “Until we are told explicitly otherwise, we will still come to you as our first report if any issue comes up. Assuming that is still fine by you?”
Ryland’s eyebrows raise at that. If Scyther was truly taking the role of First Officer, then Dubois refusing to bring issues to him was toeing the line awfully close to mutiny, at least in the most Dubois sense of the word. Well, whatever. If Dubois and Shapiro want to come to Ryland with problems, he doesn’t mind.
“My door is always open to you both.” It’s the same thing Ryland would say to any student or colleague.
“We know, thank you. You should know ours is always open to you too, if you ever have anything you want to talk about,” says Shapiro kindly. That’s the second time someone has offered something along those lines to Ryland today. First Lamai and now Shapiro. He’s not sure where they are getting the impression there’s anything he wants to talk about.
Ryland closes his laptop and stands up. As he gets his computer bag packed up again, he says off-handedly to the couple standing in front of him. “By no means should you feel obligated to help me move offices, but if you really want to join me, I won’t say no to the help.”
Shapiro’s eyes light up and she grins, excited. Dubois is also smiling too, even if it is in that calm and measured way he does everything.
“Yes!” Cheers Shapiro. “Let’s go!”
Ryland has no choice but to smile back at her enthusiasm. The idea of moving offices had him miserable, but it doesn’t seem quite as bad anymore.
“Not much here, is there?” Asks Shapiro peering into his office from the doorway while Dubois remains in the hallway. There is barely enough room for two people to stand comfortably in the room.
Ryland hums in thought. The respectful thing to do would just to be just bring his papers and leave the printer. He knows there is already a printer in his new office. But… he wasn’t feeling particularly respectful right now… No. He can be an adult about this.
Shapiro has began grabbing sheathes of paper off the shelves and loading them carefully into the box that Dubois had made them stop at a utility closet to get. So, Ryland gets to work emptying out his drawers. There wasn’t that much in them: two of his bean bags, about eighteen pens (he tends to steal them by accident when inspecting work in other peoples’ offices or labs), three scientific calculators, and some candy to snack on. He tries to surreptitiously slide the six bags of sour Skittles and two bags of Twizzlers in the box without Shapiro seeing. She does.
“Is this how you make it through all those all-nighters you pull?” Asks Shapiro, amused.
“… Something like that,” Ryland answers, vaguely embarrassed.
She snickers to herself.
“Is that everything?” She asks scanning the shelves and top of the desk.
“Almost,” Ryland sits down in his chair. Carefully, he pulls the drawings his kids had gifted him from the wall. The shelving units block them from sight when standing, but when he’s sat, working long hours at his desk, all he needs to do is look up and be reminded of exactly why he was doing it all in the first place.
“Oh, how sweet,” Shapiro says as she watches him carefully remove them one by one. She picks up a few and looks through them. Dubois looks over her shoulder as she does. There were some pictures of Earth, some pictures of the kids with Ryland, and his personal favourite, a red Petrova line between Venus and the Sun with the words “Kick it’s butt, Mr. Grace!” written on top.
“These are from your student’s back home?” Dubois asks rhetorically. “It’s clear how much they love you.”
Ryland chuckles a bit, isn’t that all teachers’ dream? “I’m not sure about that, but the feeling is mutual. I care about them all so much. I can’t wait to get back to teaching after this is done.”
“What? Are we not good enough students for you, Dr. Grace?” Shapiro jokes, with laughter in her eyes.
“Well, you don’t draw me nice pictures, now do you?” Ryland points out. He carefully takes the pictures from Shapiro’s hands and places them in box.
“We will be sure to get on that,” Dubois promises with his usual level of sincerity that makes it hard to tell if he was joking or not.
“Right,” Ryland claps his hands together, “That’s everything. I guess it really wasn’t necessary for you guys to come and help me; it’s only one box.”
“Nonsense. We offered,” Shapiro says dismissively, “Besides, we still want to see your new office.”
“Well then, follow me, I guess,” Ryland says hefting up the box. It was actually pretty light. Shapiro and Dubois step out of his way, and he starts down the hallway. He makes it to the end of the hall before he realizes neither of the other scientists are following him, both were doing something in his office, the door still wide open.
He stops and waits, curious. A minute later Shapiro exits his office, Dubois a step behind her. He kicks the office door behind as his hands were full of Ryland’s printer.
“Uh,” Ryland says, “my new office already has a printer in it. I don’t technically need that one.”
“What if it doesn’t connect to your laptop?” Asks Shapiro.
“It does,” Ryland says, speaking from experience.
“It’s very important your work isn’t interrupted,” Dubois says seriously. “For redundancy, you should keep this printer.” You know what? Ryland isn’t sure what their horse in this race is, but okay. Ryland wanted the printer anyways, if just to spite Scyther. He now has plausible deniability when Stratt gives him The Look.
He leads them down the hall. His new office isn’t actually that far away, only one deck up and a five-minute walk away.
“Hey, Dr. Grace? Where is your new office?” Shapiro asks, finally. They have been walking quietly for a few minutes, but he could tell Shapiro was beginning to guess where they were headed. The most important rooms are on the second deck.
“Just here,” he says stopping in front of the office door. He knocks twice.
“Enter,” Stratt calls back.
Ryland opens the door and steps inside. Behind him both Dubois and Shapiro seem to suddenly get nervous as they stall out in the doorway. He looks back at them and slowly they enter the room, Dubois hefts the printer up a little higher as he does, as if it will physically shield him from Stratt.
Stratt doesn’t even look up from where she’s typing at her laptop.
“Are you actually serious about me moving in here?” Ryland demands. “Don’t we see enough of each other already?” They only spend hours in meetings together. Or at least they did, before Stratt went and cancelled all his meetings.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She answers simply. “You need a place to be able to work after all.”
“Where am I even supposed to work in here?” Ryland complains. Stratt’s office was large. Easily triple the size of the next biggest office on the ship. Despite this, there wasn’t that much in it. Stratt had her large banker’s desk, with her two wooden torture chairs sat in front of the desk for any visitors.
(Early in his indentured servitude, after Ryland had suffered through a three-hour meeting with Stratt in one of those chairs, he had asked her if she couldn’t find anything more comfortable.
“Oh no, I can,” Stratt had said, “But this way no one is tempted to overstay their welcome.”
After that, Ryland just sat on the couch whenever they would meet.)
On one side of the room, she had a built-in bookshelf where her printer sat. Ryland wasn’t sure if any of the books on it were actually hers for or simply for show. In the middle of the room was her fairly comfy couch and a small coffee table. There wasn’t actually a second desk in the office.
“I suppose you can take the couch or the floor. Whichever you prefer.”
“I need a desk, Stratt,” says Ryland, now even more annoyed with the situation.
Stratt raised her brow at him minutely, “I suppose you would like me to will one out of the air?”
Ryland grunts, dropping his box of papers on the coffee table. Couch it is then. It’s not like he hasn’t spent hours working on it before.
“I’ll just…” Dubois looks around the room, “Put this over here.” He puts the printer down on the bookshelf next to Stratt’s. “Director Stratt, it’s a pleasure to see you today.”
“Yes,” Shapiro agrees, “It’s nice to see you, Director. We were just helping Dr. Grace move offices.”
“A difficult move it seems like,” Stratt says dryly eyeing the one box and printer they brought with them. “You know I already had a printer in here,” she directs the statement to Ryland who shrugs at her.
“It’s for redundancy,” he says, quoting Dubois.
The very corner of Stratt’s mouth quirks up with her thinly veiled amusement.
“We will leave you to get settled, Dr. Grace, Director Stratt,” Dubois says. Quickly, both he and Shapiro flee the room, closing the door gently on their exit.
Leaving the box for now, Ryland flops himself down on the couch. He pulls out his laptop and power cord. There is an extension cord next to the couch leading to one of the outlets across the room from all the times he has worked in here before. Plugging himself in, he pulls open his email. He’s received another 63 emails in the last 40 minutes, not including the one’s he’s missed while teaching earlier. Some of them are from the Vat’s crew about various updates on the ship itself, and maintenance tickets that need higher approval before starting to be repaired, research updates by the science teams, journal updates from various scientists who are studying Astrophage around the world. He stops when he sees an invitation from Dimitri to get a beer later. He flags this email for consideration and a reply later. Ryland starts going through the Leclerc’s latest update email. The man was attending a three-day climate conference and has been sending Ryland and Stratt regular updates on what was being discussed. Apparently, there was talk about whether there would be any benefit to burning some of the Amazon rainforest—Leclerc, naturally, seemed exceedingly depressed as always.
A new email pops up in the corner of his screen. It’s from Scyther. With some trepidation, Ryland clicks on the email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Report Due.Provide me with a copy of all your most recent research activity, dating back the past 12 months.
Adam Scyther, PhD
First Officer of the Petrova Task Force
UNESCO Science Officer
“God, what a dink,” Grace whispers angrily under his breath.
“Tell me, Grace. What’s your opinion on Scyther joining the task force.”
Ryland looks up over the rim of his glasses at her. She’s stopped typing and was staring at him in return. Stratt must already know the answer to this, so why is she bothering to ask.
“I’m surprised,” Grace says bluntly. “With you, more than him.”
Stratt raises her eyebrows at him.
“We discussed the possibility of an UN appointee, and Scyther has always ran in those circles. I’m not necessarily surprised he’s here. I am surprised that you’ve bent the knee for him so much. You’ve been awfully accommodating of his presence.”
“Bent the knee, have I?” Stratt muses from behind her desk.
“Sure seems like it to everyone.”
“Are you upset that you lost your office?”
“No,” Ryland lies.
Stratt hums and doesn’t say anything more.
Anything more that would have been said was interrupted from, what Ryland can only assume is, a herd of buffalo coming down the hallway. There was a lot of laughing and the sound of things banging against the walls.
Both Ryland and Stratt listen as the noise draws nearer, until it was right outside the office. Someone knocks three times at the door, and then it opens without any invitation.
“Olesya!” Cries Shapiro, as the primary engineer careens into the office.
Ilyukhina looks around the room curiously, likely never having been in Stratt’s office before. She dressed in her engineering coveralls and had a large tool kit in one hand and a leg of some sort of desk or chair in the other. “Director,” She greets Stratt cheerfully.
Ilyukhina grins at Grace next, “Rumour has it you needed a desk!”
“I apologize sincerely for the interruption, Director Stratt,” Dubois says apologetically, while also very winded. He shuffles into the office holding one half of the top of a desk awkwardly on its side. On the other side of the desk was a confused and harried looking sailor. Shapiro comes into the room next holding the last of the table legs, and finally another concerned sailor comes in pushing Ryland’s wheeled office chair.
“Uh,” says Ryland, intelligently. What the hell were they doing?
“Am I to take it that these are all pieces of Dr. Grace’s desk and chairs from his previous office?” Stratt asks, archly.
“We had to take the desk apart to get it to fit through the door,” says Ilyukhina, not really answering the question.
The sailors were looking increasingly uncomfortable being in Stratt’s office so Ryland takes pity on them and gestures for them to set their items down so that they could go. Dubois looked relieved to being able to put the table down too.
“Annie, put the table legs over there,” Ilyukhina says pointing to a corner. “Come on Grace, Martin, put the table-top over here. We will set your desk up mirroring Stratt’s on this side of the room so the two of you can stare at each other all day.”
“Why would we want that?” Asks Ryland even more bewildered.
“And where do you expect Dr. Scyther to work?” Stratt asks. Oh, she’s actually loving this, Ryland realizes. He’s never seen her smiling this much, even if it was in her blank wall sort of way.
“I’m sure someone with his credentials will be able to figure it out,” says Shapiro.
Ilyukhina snaps her fingers to get Grace’s attention, “Move the table, Grace, do you want me to build your desk or not?”