Chapter Text
The bed shifted beneath her, and Stratt groaned. Her head hurt, her back hurt, and her mouth was dry and tasted disgusting. She swallowed, and the bed shifted beneath her again. "Stratt," it said in a deep, quiet voice, and Stratt's eyes shot open. She jolted up, blinking rapidly in the bright light.
"What?" she asked, thickly, looking around. The medical facility. The waiting room. She turned and saw Carl looking at her with a mixture of amusement and confusion. Stratt ran her mind back and then shook her head, switching languages. "What is it?" she asked, growing more alert by the second and squashing any embarrassment over apparently falling asleep sitting up against Carl. No wonder her back hurt.
"Ms. Ilyukhina has been moved from intensive care. You can see her now." Dr. Klyushnikova was standing in front of her, an amused expression on her face.
Stratt scowled and brushed her fingers through her hair. Then the doctor's words hit her and her eyes flashed wide for a second. Stratt threw her tablet and the few scattered reports into her bag and stood. "Bring me to her."
"This way." Dr. Klyushnikova turned and led the way through the doors.
Stratt heard Carl stand to follow as well. While they walked through the hallways, past two nurses stations, Stratt pulled out her phone. The number of emails in her inbox had grown exponentially while she had taken her unintentional nap, and her texts had grown nearly just as much despite the fact that few people had her direct number. She suspected half of them were from Grace, who had probably gone to her portable only to discover that she wasn't there. Sure enough, there they were, and she shot off a quick text to him to let him know she was fine and where she was before locking the phone again. They'd reached the door to Ilyukhina's room.
"She is not awake?" Stratt said, raising her eyebrows at the doctor.
Dr. Klyushnikova shook her head. "And she needs quiet, yes? So please do not disturb or I will have to make you leave." Stratt's eyebrows inched up farther and Carl's expression shifted. The doctor didn't back down though. "You may be world leader," Klyushnikova said, "but here I am in charge. What I say goes."
Stratt held the doctor's gaze, and Carl looked between the two. "Stratt," he said quietly. "I think you should listen to the doctor."
There was another moment of tense silence before Stratt relented with a sharp exhalation. "I was not planning on hosting a rave," Stratt said irritably. Then she waved a hand at the door. "Can I go in now? I would like to see my astronaut for myself."
Klyushnikova nodded and pushed open the door, leading the way into the room. Carl held it open for Stratt, and as she passed, he leaned down a little and whispered, "My astronaut." Stratt shot him a glare, but the amused—and relieved—smile remained on his face. At least until they got into the room and saw Ilyukhina.
The first thing Stratt noticed was the deep purple bruising across Ilyukhina's right cheek and the circles under her eyes set against how pale the rest of her skin was. Even in sleep, Ilyukhina looked vibrant, alive—Eva shoved the memories of Ilyukhina lying in her bed down deep. Now, Ilyukhina looked small and still. IV lines snaked down from multiple drips into a PICC line in the upper part of her left arm. There was a cast on her right arm all the way up to her shoulder, and similarly, her right leg was in a cast up to her hip. Stratt could see bandages around Ilyukhina's torso peeking out from the top of the blanket, which was lifted to just under Ilyukhina's chest. What lay beneath was a mystery, but what Stratt could see was enough.
"Skull fracture was hairline crack, which was better than alternative" Klyushnikova said. "We did not have to go in to fix, and it will heal over time."
Carl swore softly behind them and internally, Stratt agreed with the sentiment. Externally, she maintained her air of control and professionalism. "Okay," she said, blowing out a breath. She turned to Dr. Klyushnikova. "Thank you. I am going to stay here for a little bit, if that is alright?" Stratt arched her eyebrows at the doctor.
"Like I said, as long as you are quiet and stay out of way of nurses, is no problem," Klyushnikova said, shrugging. She turned to leave and then she half-turned to look over her shoulder at Stratt. "And please, do not threaten my staff, yes? You are stressed, this we know, but remember, we are doing our best to help. It is just we can only do so much."
Carl's eyebrows shot up and Stratt saw out of the corner of her eye as he very intentionally did not look at her. "Yes," Stratt said slowly. "That was rude of me. It will not happen again."
"Not here anyway," Carl said under his breath and Stratt fought the urge to shoot him an exasperated look because really he was getting to be just as bad as Grace. A little pang of dread went through her at the thought of him.
"No, it will not," Dr. Klyushnikova agreed, giving no sign as to whether or not she had heard Carl. Then she was gone and they were left alone with Ilyukhina.
The soft beeping of the monitors kept Stratt apprised of the other woman's continued heartbeat as she moved closer to the bed. Tentatively, and before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched Ilyukhina's uninjured hand. The skin was cool and clammy and Eva only squeezed it lightly once before releasing it to pull the blanket up a little. Then she retreated to one of the guest chairs. It was more comfortable than the seat in the waiting room and she resisted the urge to collapse back into it entirely. Carl looked from Ilyukhina to Stratt.
"I'm going to get us water and something to eat," Carl said in a low voice.
Stratt turned her attention to him, gaze steady. "Coffee, black," she said, matching his volume. "I am not hungry."
"I'm getting you something anyway," Carl said and left before she could object. Then she realized he hadn't agreed to get her the coffee and hoped he didn't choose that day to try her.
Heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the soft sounds of the monitors and Ilyukhina's breathing. Stratt focused on that. The rhythmic beeping, the steady inhalations and exhalations, the signs that Ilyukhina was still there. Wasn't a casualty of Stratt's slip up. Stratt shook her head and swore quietly, her voice catching in her throat as her eyes fell again on Ilyukhina. A dull pain radiated up her spine as Eva stood and approached the bed, the result of sleeping sitting up. Olesya's unblemished cheek was cool as Eva brushed strands of hair off of her face with the lightest touch she could manage.
"I dreamed about not having to send you to space, you know," Eva said in Russian so quiet it was hardly more than a breath. "Even though I tried not to. It was selfish. But this…this was not how I imagined it." There was no response from the woman on the bed, but she hadn't expected there to be. "But now that I get to keep you here, you cannot die on me, okay?" Eva stroked the back of Olesya's cool hand with her thumb. "You cannot die on me." Eva tipped her head back to look at the ceiling. Tears were beginning to pool in her eyes. She had allowed her emotions to creep too close to the surface. Sorrow, desperation, guilt, all clawed at her and she shoved them back down mercilessly as she backed away from the bed again. Once the project was over, once it was all done, she would allow herself to feel it.
By the time Carl returned, Stratt had already updated the project leads about Ilyukhina's condition and had alerted the secondary engineer that he was now part of the primary crew. The science specialist would be more difficult. God willing, they wouldn't need to replace anyone else before the launch. Dr. Lokken had already been added to the disaster inquiry, and now Stratt had recruited Dr. Komorov as well. He had a hand in designing the generators after all, and other than Grace, he had the most experience with astrophage energy output. They were to coordinate the investigation with the relevant science departments and get back with her as soon as possible. She was still waiting to hear about the astrophage allotment, but she reminded herself that people were probably still recovering from the chaos and also most of them had decent sleep schedules. Unlike her.
The list of possible tertiary science specialists stared her in the face from the top of her to dos for two more hours as she worked through everything else she possibly could. Then she turned to the list and dutifully reopened it. This time, she read farther down, looking through all of the candidates as though it would change her decision. Their files were all there. Background, education, résumé all listed out in spare writing. Stratt barely needed to skim them to confirm what she already knew. Two hours later, Stratt sat back and closed out of the list of potential candidates—even calling them that was a joke, really. Or rather, that was the problem. They had potential but they didn't currently have the qualifications she and the project needed. And none of them would be ready in the time they had. "My god," Stratt said with a sigh, swiping a hand over her face. "I am going to have to send him to space."
Carl's eyebrows shot up and he choked on a chip. The bag crinkled in his lap as he reached down to grab his water bottle, taking a sip to reset his system. Stratt's own food sat beside her, untouched except for her coffee. "What?" Carl asked, once he had recovered. "You've picked a replacement?"
"The replacement picked itself," Stratt replied, resigned. It had been too much to hope that she would come out unscathed. Now it was a trade, one friend for another. Friend, Eva thought a little ruefully.
"What do you mean?" Carl leaned toward her, brow furrowed. "Stratt?" he pressed. "Who did you pick for the tertiary science officer?"
Stratt met his gaze, decisive blue eyes on wary brown ones. She opened her mouth to answer, when there was a rustling sound from the direction of the bed. Both of their heads whipped around and everything else in the room vanished as Stratt zeroed in on the source of the noise. Ilyukhina had shifted, turning her head to the side so that her unblemished cheek was resting against the pillow and she was facing Stratt, eyes still closed in sleep. A series of mumbled nonsense sounds left Ilyukhina as she nuzzled into her pillow and then furrowed her brow in what was probably pain.
Carl and Eva watched frozen from their seats as a nurse popped in carrying a cup of some kind, which she set on the little table beside the bed. The nurse ran a series of checks on the machines, adjusting and replacing IV bags, before turning to Ilyukhina herself. The nurse took her vitals, gently fixed the bedding, and nodded to the two observers. Before leaving the room again, the nurse said, "For if she wakes up and is thirsty. One ice chip at a time." The nurse directed the words to Stratt, who nodded—someone must have told the nurses that Stratt understood Russian. Then the nurse was gone.
Ilyukhina's brow smoothed and her body relaxed again, breathing slowing and deepening back into sleep. Eva breathed a sigh of relief. Beside her, Carl did the same.
A soft buzzing got their attention, and Carl's hand flew to his phone. "This is Carl," he said, standing and exiting the room so he could speak at a more reasonable level.
The door closed behind him, cutting off the sound of his voice entirely. Stratt tried to return to her work, to plan out everything she needed to do to salvage the mission. Instead, she ended up resting her head back with her eyes closed as she tried to force herself to focus. Her mind drifted, chasing conversations, running through scenarios in which Grace might accept her decision. It wasn't promising. Hours or minutes later, Stratt snapped back into the present.
"Eva?"
Stratt's eyes flashed open immediately at the sound of Ilyukhina's voice, soft and breathy. Ilyukhina coughed a little and then whimpered. Her dark eyes opened, dazed and confused. Stratt pulled her chair closer to the bed and reached over to the insulated cup the nurse had left. It was filled with ice chips instead of liquid water. "Here." Stratt picked out a smaller piece and held it near Ilyukhina's lips. "Open up, Ilyukhina. This will help. Let it melt in your mouth. There you go."
"Eva," Olesya sighed after the ice had melted and she'd swallowed a several times. Eva's eyes followed the movement of her throat. Another sign she was alive and healing. "You're here. I dreamed I was among the stars," she murmured in slow, slightly slurred Russian. "They were disappearing around me, and you were there relighting them one by one but they kept going out again and then I was going out, too."
Eva's heart clenched. "You are not going out," Eva said replied. She reached out a hand to stroke Olesya's hair and then hesitated. It felt like overstepping now, but when Olesya looked at her with wide, confused eyes, Eva gave in and stroked her hair lightly, careful to avoid her head injuries. Careful not to use any pressure at all. "You are not going anywhere. They told me you are going to be just fine, but it may take a while."
Olesya blinked, her brow furrowing. "Where am I? What-" She shifted and winced, then she tilted her head down and her eyes widened. "What happened?"
"The research center exploded. You were close enough to get caught in the blast. You were very lucky that you were not any closer." Eva picked up another ice chip and offered it out, but Olesya was staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression again.
For a moment, Eva was worried that something was wrong. Then Olesya said, "I was on my way. DuBois…DuBois was doing an experiment. I-It should have been me doing it. I am responsible…" Olesya trailed off, blinking heavily.
"Go back to sleep," Eva said softly as Olesya struggled to keep her eyes open.
Olesya sighed and let her eyes slide shut. "Are you really here?" she asked sleepily, her uninjured hand reaching blindly in Eva's direction. Eva took it, and Olesya's fingers laced through hers with surprising strength—though still weaker than normal.
Eva had to clear her throat before she was able to respond. "I am," she answered. "Now go back to sleep. I will still be here when you wake up."
"You're never there when I wake up." Olesya said it on a sigh as she nestled her uninjured cheek into the pillow. Eva flinched. "You have to pinky promise." Olesya let go of Eva's hand and held out her pinky.
Eva swallowed hard and linked it with her own and somehow it didn't feel ridiculous or childish at all. "I promise." She tightened her pinky once around Olesya's and then released it. Instead of letting their hands separate, Eva laced their fingers together again. What a relief it was to feel her, warm and alive when she so nearly hadn't been.
"Okay." Olesya's breathing evened out into the slow, measured breathing of deep sleep within seconds. She had not let go of Eva's hand, but her grip had gone slack. Eva was sure that she would be able to pull free with ease if she chose, but she didn't. She couldn't.
Instead, Eva let Olesya hold her hand hostage, and she balanced her tablet in her lap so that she could use it one-handed. Her coffee, sitting on the floor back by the chair's original spot, was a lost cause. Its abandonment an unfortunate oversight on her part. After half an hour, she was already missing the caffeine—even though she knew it had to be psychosomatic. After an hour of back and forth messages with the disaster inquiry team, Stratt's eyes were struggling to focus. Stratt fought with her body for another hour before she locked the screen and pinched the bridge of her nose, pressing her eyes closed against the pressure of an incoming tension headache. Her chin dropped to her chest. There wasn't time to rest her eyes. They needed solid answers about the explosion. They needed a plan of action. They–
Someone was shaking Stratt's shoulder gently. Her head was resting on something soft, but her back was killing her—again. She was folded in half, she realized and blinked her eyes open to discover that at some point she had fallen asleep. The soft something her head was resting on was her own arm, fingers still entwined with Ilyukhina's. The other woman didn't seem to have moved. Stratt blinked at her, reorienting herself. Then she remembered the hand shaking her shoulder and sat all the way up, suddenly wide awake. Her eyes dropped to her watch. She was pretty sure that she had only lost an hour. It was only then that she realized it was coming up on twenty-four hours since the explosion, and they had fewer answers than she would have liked.
"Hey." Stratt looked over to see that it was Grace who had been shaking her shoulder. Carl was there again, hovering near the door. She had never gotten a chance to ask what the phone call was about or where he must have run off to because of it. "You should probably go back to your trailer for a little bit," Grace said, pulling her attention again. "I can take over here."
"I assure you, I am fine," Stratt replied, gently tugging her hand free and standing to retrieve her coffee from the floor. She drained half the cup of lukewarm liquid in one go. It was all in her head, but she imagined she could feel the caffeine entering her system.
"She's not fine," Carl said, earning a glare from Stratt.
Grace rocked back on his heels. "Okay, how about this. You go back to your trailer and freshen up, change your clothes, and grab some food. Real food. Then come back when you look and feel human again. You and I both know that if Ilyukhina wakes up and finds you here like this, she'll be mad that you were here instead of taking care of yourself."
It was difficult to argue with that, which Stratt immediately resented. "I can have someone bring me a change of clothes," she said as she sat back down beside the bed, bristling. "I can run what I need to from here for now. Once I am satisfied that Ilyukhina is on the mend, I will need to coordinate a meeting with Dr. Komorov and Dr. Lokken about the disaster inquiry. For now, they are still looking into things, and security has already determined what they can on their end. My job right now is to draft a statement for the UN that assures them we are doing what we can to launch on schedule while apprising them of what has happened. If they find out from anyone but me, it will not look good for me or the rest of the project. The last thing we need is them suspecting we have not been completely open with our actions, which we have been—at least with them."
"I mean, sure, you can deal with all of that from here, but that's not a good reason that you should. Why not just get updates from the doctors sent directly to you on your tablet?"
"For the purposes of this project and her medical care during this time, I am the one who will be making medical decisions for her. I need to be here just in case something happens that requires my direct attention."
Grace raised his eyebrows and looked at Stratt.
Stratt looked back at him.
He looked at Stratt.
Stratt sighed. "And I promised Ilyukhina I would be here when she woke up. I prefer to keep my promises when I am able, and as I am able to do my work from here, I see no reason why I should not."
"There it is," Grace said with a satisfied expression, then his expression faltered. "Wait."
"You promised her?" Carl asked, beating Grace to the punch. "She woke up?"
"Briefly," Stratt replied, shifting on her aching hips. The chair she was in really was not meant for sleeping.
Grace glanced at Ilyukhina before returning his attention to Stratt. "And you think she'll remember you promising?" he asked carefully.
Stratt rolled her eyes and unlocked her tablet. "So you think that just because she may not remember the promise, I should not strive to keep it?" she asked pointedly as she looked down at the screen. She had given up on the JAXA report, she would have to ask Lokken and hope the woman was able to simplify it enough for her. Ideally, Grace would do it, but she just couldn't have him there. Not with what she was considering. Looking at him now, with his kind and open face, her heart sank.
"Ah, no," Grace said, running his hand over the back of his hair sheepishly.
"If that is settled, I would appreciate if you would grab a spare set of clothes from my trailer and have someone bring them to me." She didn't trust anyone else in her trailer—except Carl, but she could tell the man was determined to stay glued to her side for now at least. "Then I need to you continue coordinating with the ESA astronauts. Any and all issues they find must be fixed by the established launch date. Please assume you have my authorization to do whatever is necessary to ensure that happens."
Grace's expression faltered. "We're not pushing it back?" he asked tentatively.
"We are not," Stratt said briskly as she read over what she had written so far for the UN. "The death toll grows exponentially the longer we wait. Any longer is unacceptable."
"Did you ever think that maybe you have to postpone it?" Grace said, blowing out a breath.
Stratt's head whipped up and she looked at him, blue eyes piercing. "What I have to do is save as many lives as possible and that means getting the Hail Mary launched on time with a fully qualified crew. So I recommend that you get back to your duties and I will worry about mine," she snapped.
All three of them froze when Ilyukhina shifted and murmured nonsense before falling still again. Stratt's eyes fell on her and she forced her deep concern and care and guilt—Do you regret it?—away for the moment. They joined everything that was waiting to consumed her post-launch, when she could afford to give in, to lose herself at least for a little while. A week, maybe less, to collapse in on herself before she had to keep going, keep working to make sure there was time for the beetle probes to return—she had to believe they would, that this would succeed—with the information they needed, whether the nations of the world wanted her help or not.
In a moment of wisdom, Grace backed off, hands raised. Behind him, Carl visibly relaxed a little.
"Good," Stratt said after a moment. "Get to work."