Chapter Text
The… tunnel… bridge? Simon doesn't know what to call it sneaking towards the Mary's outer airlock looms ominously as it comes closer. Then all star light cuts out as it settles with a dull thunk against the Mary's hull.
They're both in the EVA suits this time, helmets on and sealed, even though they are still inside the Mary: it's a precaution Simon had insisted on.
"You should also learn how to operate these," he'd told Grace when he'd helped him into the bulky suit. "Even if you don't think that might be necessary right now, it's good if you know what you're doing." In case I won't be able to operate one, Simon doesn't add, but the stern look on Grace's face tells him he gets that too.
Simon takes a deep breath. "Time to have a look, I guess?" He asks, forcing himself to reach for the hatch opening the inner airlock.
To his surprise, the doctor follows him inside.
"What?" Grace snaps. Simon purses his lips. Both their nerves are thin right now. "This could be the first contact with alien life. Sentient alien life." He reaches up, glove bumping against his helmet when he can't reach his glasses. He drops his hand again. "You already made me put this on, so I'm coming with you."
"Fuck me," Simon mutters, but doesn't argue. He turns towards the outer airlock. There's only darkness waiting beyond. He daps the buttons on the control panel, depressurizing the airlock. The hatch opens into the tunnel, the lights on the outside of the airlock and on their helmets barely illuminating the inside, that looks weirdly organic in a way, though the material is hard as glass as he pushes himself over the edge of the hatch, floating into the tunnel to touch its walls. The data on the display of the suit's sleeve shows the temperature and pressure to be what it should be in the vacuum of space, no atmosphere.
There's what looks like a wall halfway down the tunnel. It's made out of a patchwork of different materials and textures. Simon splays his hand over it, feeling the bumps and ridges muffled by the thick fabric of the glove. Next to him Grace is doing the same, bent half over to gaze at a sparkling, almost see through piece of wall.
"Look," Grace whispers, though his voice is picked up easily by the microphone inside the helmet.
Simon floats down to where he is looking. The window is more like stained glass, distorting what is on the other side. Whoever is there has made more models: one that looks a bit…
"Look, he's made you," Grace sounds in awe at the vaguely four limbed plus round helmet shaped figure they can gaze at through the glass. The other model the alien holds up looks like the Mary with its tanks and the tunnel branching off of it. The alien gestures with both. "I think he wants us to go back?" Grace suggests, though he sounds unsure. "But we just got here."
Simon doesn't think that's a bad suggestion at all. He'd rather they don't leave the safety of the Mary again. "Let's go."
They watch the alien ship start spinning in place next to them from the big window in the lab.
"Do you think you can match that?" Grace asks, then turns away from the view. Simon gets the sentiment, the spinning is kinda nauseous to watch so close.
"Maybe," he answers. "I can try. But there's only so much tempering with the centrifugal settings the ship allows."
Grace nods. "You do that. I'll figure out some lights."
The Mary cycles to the start of its next day cycle, the lights in all the modules getting brighter, as they wait for the tunnel to connect again. After setting the Mary spinning, Simon had come back to the airlock to help determine which power line they can connect some extra cables for the lights Grace wants to route into the tunnel to, while still being able to operate the inner and outer airlocks without trouble.
"Maybe we should wait a couple hours, get some rest," Simon suggests as he watches Grace wriggle clumsily into the EVA suit again. He's still in just the undergarment himself. His body is aching everywhere from where he's bumped into various objects and edges, navigating zero gravity not the easiest thing. He's glad with the centrifuge going at least they've got gravity back now.
Grace grunts, shaking his head with the helmet already in place. Having slid it over his head has dislodged his glasses. The suits were definitely not designed with that in mind.
"You're not even hearing me, are you?" Simon is trying not to be annoyed, but he can't help the exasperation in his voice.
"This is going to be the greatest discovery since the astrophage," Grace says, his voice tinny over the microphone. Without Simon's own helmet on, the audio is transmitted through the speakers inside the Mary. "This is bigger than us." He exhales. "You can stay here, you know? Maybe that would be better anyway. In case something…"
"Oh, so now it's in case something happens?" Simon echoes him. "Fuck me." He exhales, visibly trying to calm himself. "You know what? This is so important to you; you go in there. Did you pay attention on how to work the airlock?" Grace nods, the light on his helmet bopping up and down. "Knock yourself out."
Walking away feels like defeat. Simon refuses to turn around when he hears Grace call out his name, doesn't even acknowledge him with more than a raised middle finger held up over his shoulder. Fuck, he's tired, bone deep exhaustion.
His first intention is to head over to the quarters, curl up in his cot, but the Mary has cycled back to daylight mode, the lights bright throughout the ship. Also… despite not wanting to, he knows he won't find any rest if he doesn't know what's going on. So he heads in the other direction instead. The colorful quilt is lying in a heap against one of the walls of the holodeck. Simon snatches it up, wrapping himself in it on top of the EVA undergarments he's still wearing. With its many monitors and panels, the cockpit is always dimmer than the rest of the ship. Simon sits down in the pilot seat heavily, disabling the navigational controls. Even the smallest maneuvering could be catastrophic right now. He turns towards the screens, pulling up the video feed from inside the airlock and from Grace's helmet camera.
The feed from the helmet camera is shaky, grainy as it follows Grace's line of sight and the movement of his head. Watching it makes Simon kinda queasy. He closes his eyes, exhaling as he relaxes into the seat, pulling the quilt tighter around himself.
Boom.
The ship shakes. The bomb. It has to be the bomb Simon has been dreading since they first laid eyes on the alien ship. Or some other kind of weapon. His adrenaline is spiking again as he pushes himself towards the monitors. With two clicks he's got Grace's EVA radio pulled up.
"Grace?" he shouts.
There's only heavy breathing answering for a long moment, then a couple gasps. On the video feeds he can see Grace trying to get up, sprawled on his back like a big beetle inside the airlock, its outer hatch now open. "It's—" another gasp as he pushes himself upright. "It's pressurized now." His sleeve display appears in front of the camera, though it's too shaky to be read. "22 degrees," Grace murmurs, then clambers to his feet. His breath huffs into the microphone, making it crackle. "Ok. Going in now."
Watching the next minutes through the shaky feed of Grace's helmet reminds him of a horror movie that had been a big thing back when he was a teen: a group of teenagers with handheld cameras getting chased through the woods. And the alien Grace finds behind the now transparent wall dividing the tunnel could just as well be from one of those movies.
It looks like the demon child between a spider and a crab, moving along the walls of the tunnel in a way that makes the hair at Simon's neck stand up. Though its shell seems to be made of some rock like material. It's hard to tell with the shaking of the camera, the helmet lights reflecting off the many facets of the barrier and the eternal darkness behind it.
Simon can feel his hands itch for the familiar weight and feel of a rifle, any weapon really, anything to defend himself. His body aches with the loss of his squad, his brothers, their absence like a tangible pain behind his shoulder blades. He really is all alone out here. The reminder makes it hard to breathe, the walls of the cockpit bearing down on him.
His teeth are shattering. Beneath the tight fit of the EVA suit undergarments, his skin has broken out in a cold sweat. Simon tries to draw the quilt tighter around himself. His fingers ache from how hard he's been gripping the armrests of the seat.
The sound of Grace rambling pulls him back into the present. The scientist is narrating whatever he's doing. Simon has zoned out too much to have followed it, but he makes a conscious effort to do so now. He has picked up what looks like another hollow artifact, another kind of canister that has been left for them in their side of the tunnel. He opens it to reveal two loops with small, round crystals evenly spaced along the thread. Another Christmas ornament.
"I don't have one of these, I love it. Thank you," Grace says, turning the item between his hands, then mimics whatever the alien seems to be doing on the other side of the barrier. "I'm gonna put this on my head? Take off my head? Take my helmet off?"
Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. The thought echoes inside Simon's head as he scrambles to sit up. His hands are shaking as he searches for the button to activate the radio again.
"Do not fucking do that," he bites out between clenched teeth. He can see Grace startle, react to his words, shaking his head.
"No. It'll…" he makes a noise like an explosion, gesturing with his hands in front of his head. "That's a big ask. No. This has taken a turn," he says, his voice low and for the first time Simon thinks Grace might be addressing him instead of the alien in front of him.
"You should come back, that's enough for now," Simon prompts, grateful when he sees Grace nod.
"Thank you for the… what I hope is not handcuffs," Grace says towards the alien as he starts retreating away from the barrier and towards the safety of the airlock and the Mary beyond. He keeps talking, though Simon isn't sure whether that is to keep the alien occupied with words instead of taking his retreat as some kind of weakness. What if that is what will finally make it attack? Like with dogs, or wild animals. As soon as they can smell your fear…
Grace is closer to the airlock now, almost close enough that the camera inside can pick him up again. But the helmet camera has frozen now. Grace must be looking down at the thing in his hands. "Two rings of eight. O-2." He's muttering to himself like Simon had seen him lost in thought down in the lab. He can feel is stomach sink with dread. Grace turns around, his eyes flickering up towards the barrier again. "You little rascal. This is oxygen!"
"Grace," Simon says, trying to get his attention, but the scientist is too focused on the alien and the item in his hands. "Grace!"
"I still don't think I can do it though. It's just… If I'm wrong, l'm really wrong."
"Grace, listen to me," Simon can hear the panic in his own voice as he helplessly watches Grace turn back and forth. He's stopped inside the tunnel, just too far away to be seen from the other cameras. His breathing is shaky, too loud over the speakers. "Please, Grace, don't fucking do it." He is not above begging, if that's what it takes to get through to the doctor. Simon's eyes are burning. He isn't in the EVA suit: even if he could get to the airlock in time to stop him, it would still take him minutes to get the suit on himself.
The click of the helmet release sounds like a gunshot.