Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Hail Mary!” 

There was no doubt in his mind that Court loved his brothers. He loved them with a fierceness that could rival the glow of the entire galaxy. They meant everything to him, and on his darkest, longest nights, watching a door with a gun resting in his lap, the mere thought of them had kept him going. 

“It’s Colt O’Clock, and this is Colt Seavers, coming to you, live, from the control room. Let’s take a look at today’s news.” 

However, there were days when Court idly wondered what it might have been like to be an only child. 

“I’d like to report that I am both bored and hungry as our headline today, on day whatever-the-hell-it-is on this godforsaken journey through the stars.” 

“It’s okay, Ry, it’s just Colt.” Court laboriously sat up, raking his hands through his unkempt hair and trying to sound reassuring. 

Ryland looked around, a little wild-eyed, having woken with a start at Colt’s loud and unexpected voice filtering through the ship-wide speaker system. He hadn’t had a great night – Court knew that because he also didn’t have a great night, spending half of it tucked up at the end of Ry’s bunk, aimlessly telling him sanitised stories of some of his more interesting Sierra missions. 

“In other news: deep biases still run amongst the Hail Mary crew on the highly disputed role of pilot. Sources report that a Mr. Gentry is adamantly refusing to let an undisclosed victim have a go at flying an actual fucking spaceship.” 

Court glared at the speaker in the dormitory and hoped Colt could feel his displeasure from several rooms away. 

“Colt will have to look at spaceship from behind if Rocky has to hear more of this.” The Eridian waited for a moment as the pressure equalised in his interior airlock, the door swinging open for him with a hiss and bringing with it faint smell of ammonia. He scrambled up onto Ryland’s bed to sit at his feet. “Grace go back to sleep, request.”

“I’ll go shut him up, it’s way too early for this.” Court reluctantly stood and began to trudge toward the control room. 

“Today’s weather – space, with a hint of stars. Same as usual.” 

It didn’t mean that, just because he loved them, his brothers never pissed him the hell off. Being trapped together twenty-four-seven in a metal tube with literally nowhere else to go, unable to seek out privacy because Rocky’s xenonite tunnels blocked some of the doors from closing properly, on a ship that seemed to have something going wrong nearly every other day now, was enough to test anyone’s infinite wells of patience.       

Things aboard the Hail Mary had been strained, to say the least, over the past week. Court put it down to a couple of factors, the first being everything that could be harvested from the greenhouse had been uprooted. The soil needed time to rest and revitalise, and most of the food grown had been immediately put into storage. The only fresh thing they had to eat at the moment was watercress, grown in thick mats in the greenhouse tub. Which also meant their little oasis of warm water and relaxation had been out of commission. Outside of the watercress, there had been endless beakers of Taumoeba, or bitter-tasting coma slurry. All the strawberries were long gone now; the nasty aspirin taste of the unflavoured slurry lingered for hours afterward in their mouths. 

Ry hated watercress, and had been very vocal about it. Court, hungry and tired himself, had snapped at him over dinner last night that if he didn’t like it, then either needed to suck it up and eat quietly, or he needed to zip it, and hand his portion over. He apologised later on, watching Ry ferret out a stick of gum to chew, trying to trick his brain that he wasn’t hungry. He’d split his portion between Court and Colt.  

The second thing that Court knew had caused the shift in mood and increase of tension between them was the fact that the milestone of half a year in space together had come and gone. It wouldn’t be too long before it could be said that they were nearly a quarter into their trip to Erid. It had brought with it the realisation that a quarter was not much at all, and they had another three years to go. Three years, in a ship that could be compared to a modestly sized apartment. Three years, with dwindling food supplies. Three years, without doors that closed properly.  

Court had been trapped in small spaces before, forced to wait it out in bolt-holes, or captured and left in some dank, dismal place. Claustrophobia wasn’t something he thought he would be prone to, but the thought of three more years doing the same day to day round made him feel a little breathless.

He knew cabin fever was severely getting to Colt. Hence the endless requests to fly the Hail Mary with some proper speed, get there faster. Maybe have a little fun in the dullness they’d found themselves in. Colt had barely listened through Ryland’s impatient explanation that space travel didn’t work like that. Rocky’s people had faced the same problem, thinking they could accelerate faster and faster toward Tau Ceti, and then found that distance in space was a fickle thing that didn’t play by the rules of logic.  

Court had had to break up an increasingly heated bickering session between the twins, Colt absolutely refusing to be taught astrophysics as Ry continually told him it was important for him to learn. 

“And now let’s turn to traffic. All seems quiet in the corridors of the good ol’ Hail Mary, and – oh, no, wait, here comes a traffic pile-up of one Courtland Gentry, no doubt on his way to tell me off.”  

Court flipped off the camera he knew Colt was watching him on, having been forgotten in the clean-up process from Project Appreciation a month ago, and stomped into the control room. Colt was sitting with his feet up on one of the panels, hands behind his head and an expression on his face that Court knew meant everyone was in for a long day. 

“Off.” He pointed to Colt’s feet. 

“Yes, sir, Commander, sir.”

“And less of the sass, Colt,” Court said sternly, trying to nip whatever this was in the bud. 

“Or what?” Colt rocked the pilot’s chair back and forth on its pivoting system, the mechanism in need of oiling and squeaking obnoxiously with every tilt. 

“Don’t start. You woke Ry up, he’s only had a couple hours of sleep.” Court rubbed his eyes with pinched fingers. “And actually, so have I.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t go to bed hungry, then, should he?” Colt said flippantly, but Court saw a spark of guilt in Colt’s eyes. Although not enough, apparently, to get him to knock this mood off. “Anyway, what’s my punishment for trying to enjoy myself a bit?” 

Court knew Colt was trying to get a rise from him; a bored and tired Colt was a recipe for disaster, in the same way that an overworked and tired Ryland was. Put that together with a frustrated and tired Court and – 

“I’ll lock you in the brig.” He wasn’t immune to relentless baiting, especially when his own patience was wearing thin. 

“We haven’t got a brig.” 

“I’ll make one, and then lock you in it.” Court snapped, and then took a deep breath. It was certainly too early for Colt to be doing an inane radio broadcast, but it was also too early to foster bad feelings between them all. “I don’t mean that,” he sighed. “Can we just – can we try and have a day where we’re not all at each others’ throats?” 

Colt opened his mouth to respond with what Court knew was going to be something facetious, and then slumped back into the chair. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” He glowered around the control room. “I really don’t like it here right now.” 

“Me too, kiddo.” Court offered him a hand up, and together they trudged back toward the lab. “When I get to Erid, I’m going to ask for a bedroom the size of my old apartment.” He watched Colt’s lips quirk upward. 

It was a relatively new game they all had started to play. ‘When I Get To Erid, I’m Going To’. Was it an unhealthy coping mechanism dreaming of a future they might never have? Yes. Did it get them through days like today, where the corridors were too short and the walls were too close? Absolutely.

“When I get to Erid, I’m going to go on vacation solo for two weeks at whatever the Eridian equivalent of Bali is,” Colt said. 

“Ooh, good one, two weeks of peace and quiet. For us, I mean.” Court ribbed his brother, their previous enmity not quite forgotten, but certainly in the process of being buried. “When I get to Erid, I’m –” They entered the lab, and he broke off abruptly, tripping over something left on the floor. Colt’s hand closed around his forearm in a tight grip, and Court’s shoulder protested as he came to a sharp stop. 

Court looked down, wondering if he’d somehow taken a leaf from Ryland’s tome of clumsiness and tripped over nothing, or his own feet. There certainly hadn’t been anything to fall over on his way toward the control room. 

An EVA helmet sat innocently just outside the corridor opening, the lights reflecting on its thick faceplate. 

“When I get to Erid, I’m going to teach my little brother how to not leave his work everywhere.” Court grumbled, straightening and rotating his arm, trying to alleviate the ache there. “Ry, do you have to do that now?” 

“Do you want three working EVA suits, or not?” Ryland was sitting on the floor, at the centre of an Orlan apocalypse. 

Suit number three had been displaying an amber warning on its little status panel for a few days. The technology the suits employed was certainly unrivalled – even out of use, the internal systems ran diagnostics daily to ensure the suit’s integrity was up to scratch. Number three had a tear somewhere in the dense weave of the cloth components, a relatively easy fix when all said and done. The trouble, however, was locating the tear.

“Someone,” Ry shot Colt a dark look, “woke me up, so I’m making good use of being conscious.”  

Colt bristled. “It’s not my fault you slept like shit, Ry.” 

And just like that, all of Court’s good intentions of having a day with zero arguments vanished.

“I never said it was,” Ryland shot back, running his fingers along the left arm seam, searching for the tear. 

“Well, it certainly sounded like –” 

“Alright, knock it off!” Court toed the EVA helmet aside, perhaps with a little more force than necessary and stood between the twins. He pointed at Ry, “Clear this up, you can do it after breakfast. And get Rocky to help you, he’ll find it faster.” 

The Eridian was nowhere in sight, and Court wondered if it was because he’d simply had enough of the three noisy humans he was trapped with. It was more likely he was getting something to eat, but Court wouldn’t have blamed him if his absence was due to the former reason. 

“What breakfast?” Colt muttered, looking away when Court glared at him. 

As Ryland shunted the dismembered EVA suit to one side – Colt slumping over at the workbench and pointedly refusing to help – Court headed over to the dreaded sample fridge. “What do you want, Taumoeba or slurry?” 

“Neither.” Ryland and Colt said at the same time. 

Court pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the fridge, hoping it might soothe the ache he felt blossoming at his temples. “It’s got to be one or the other, guys.” 

“Taumoeba,” Colt said. “At least that vaguely chewable.” 

“Ry?” When Ryland didn’t answer, Court glanced over his shoulder to find him sitting amidst the EVA suit again, entirely focused on a job Court had told him to pack away. “Ryland.” 

“Yeah?” 

“For the love of – what did I just tell you, bud?” Court appreciation for Colt’s ability to find fun in any situation and Ry’s sheer dedication to whatever work was in front of him was quickly souring as the seconds ticked by.

“Listen to the Commander, Ryland,” Colt said with a smirk. “Or he’ll throw you in the brig.” 

“What is word Colt just used, question?” Rocky scuttled into the room, coming to a halt at the dead centre between all three of them. “Why throwing Grace, question?”

As Colt began to explain what a ‘brig’ was and why Ry deserved to do hard jail time, Court made his final move. “I am closing the fridge door, Ry,” he warned. “It is being closed right now. You’ve got until then to choose something.”      

“Fine, slurry.” Ryland threw down the EVA suit and came over to join Colt. “Stop being a bad influence on the Eridian.” 

“You literally taught him the concept of sarcasm.” 

Breathe in, Court thought, inhaling through his nose. He pulled the requested breakfasts from the fridge. 

“Grace does not deserve to be locked up.” 

“Ha, see?” 

Breathe out. He came over and deposited the beaker in front of Colt and a cup in front of Ryland, exhaling for a count of five. 

“Colt also should not be locked up, this conversation dumb.” 

Out of all of them, Rocky had kept his calm the most. Court supposed it was because he’d been alone for forty-six years, so comparatively a four year road trip probably felt quite manageable. He also knew it was because Rocky was the most consistently well-fed, having reams of food packed away in his chambers, nothing of which they could eat. Court hated feeling jealous of that, but since no-one here was a mindreader, he allowed himself a few seconds of bitterness as he regarded his own lacklustre breakfast.           

“Rocky stay to watch Court Colt Grace eat human food.” 

He’d also become the ship’s mediator and had, causing an interesting feeling in Court specifically, begun to tap on his nearly three centuries of age to pull them all in line. It gave Court an opportunity to also be petulant, if he chose to – but he would then immediately pay the price as Rocky chastised him for it. 

A prickly atmosphere followed as they all contemplated their breakfast, and reluctantly began to eat. Rocky stood sentinel at Ry’s feet, drumming the fingers of a front claw on the floor as he waited. 

Ry pushed away his portion halfway through with a grimace. “That’s worse than usual.” 

“It’s ’cos I put watercress in it,” Colt said belligerently.

Court finished off his slurry, slammed his cup down and glared at Colt. “Do you have to?”

“Did you actually?” Ryland picked up his own cup and inspected it closely. “I swear to goodness if you did, I’ll –” 

“Of course he didn’t, Ry, and don’t you dare finish that sentence, I don’t want to hear it,” Court said. “Five minutes quiet, is that too much to ask for? Obviously yes, with you two mouthing off like this.” 

A second of silence, and then Colt and Ry started to talk over one another, voices growing louder as they then turned on each other. 

Court tried to do his breathing trick again, and failed miserably. “Will you two just –” 

“It’s not the first time you’ve messed up my breakfast, remember when you put shaving cream on my pancakes instead of –” 

“I didn’t do anything, and besides that was Court’s idea and –” 

“Hey, don’t blame me for you going along with it, I –” 

“I’m so sick of –” 

“Oh, yeah? Back atcha, pal, as if –” 

A sudden, ear-splitting whistle cut through their row, all three of them wincing and instinctively shoving their hands against their ears. Court gritted his teeth and waited for whatever it was to stop. Hopefully it wasn’t the sound that accompanied an emergency depressurisation – although with how this morning had gone so far, Court found that maybe he wouldn’t have minded that. 

The whistle died down and resolved itself into words. “Siblings will all be quiet. Right. Now. Statement.” 

Grabbing a hold of the edge of the workbench, Rocky heaved himself up onto the table and stood tall, rotating the ‘front’ of his carapace between them all. 

“Eridian pebbles are considered not very young when perhaps they are forty Earth years old. Rocky knows humans mature much faster, but right now is not seeing evidence of this. Court Colt and Grace all act like Eridian pebbles.” An accusing finger was levelled at each of them as Rocky spoke. “Bad example of humanity, what will all Erid think if siblings act like this, question?” 

Court wasn’t used to being told off, usually it was him doing the telling. He felt himself roll his shoulders forward, glaring at the table and folding his arms. And then he had a sudden visual image of himself sulking like a teenager, and realised Rocky was right. If anything, though, it made him all the more grumpy. Glancing around, he saw that Colt was staring defiantly right back at Rocky, biting the inside of his cheek. Ryland outwardly appeared calmer, but Court saw a steely glint to his eyes that told him Ry was battling with his occasional fiery temper. 

“Finish breakfast, quietly, and then Rocky gives out jobs for rest of wake-cycle.” With that, Rocky sat down in the middle of the workbench, effectively blocking a direct line of sight between them all. 

They did as they were told, although Court could feel Colt and Ryland kicking each other under the table. A stray kick caught him on the shin, so he responded, naturally, with one of his own. Rocky would be able to ‘see’ this, he knew, but the Eridian seemed mostly content to have them argue silently with badly-aimed mild violence, as opposed to raised voices. Perhaps he also understood this was the closest they’d all get to a ‘peaceful’ breakfast before he invariably split them up for the remainder of the day.

Breakfast down and a few minor bruises up, they waited for Rocky to dole out orders. “Finished, question?” A triple muttering of “yes” met his words, and a rippling motion moved across his shoulder joints; an Eridian equivalent of a heavy eye roll. 

“Good. Court, finish EVA suit and check others. Colt, analysis on greenhouse dirt. Find out if okay for new planting. Grace, stay in lab to help Rocky with something.” 

Court and Colt began to protest at their designated jobs, Court finding it entirely unfair that he had to finish a task that Ryland had begun and left off in such an abysmal state – the Orlan suit crumpled in several different pieces in a haphazard pile – and Colt complaining that Rocky was playing favourites and not giving Ry a proper job. 

Ryland failed to not look smug, gave in to temptation and made a ha, ha you lose face at Colt, clearly thinking he’d been let off easily. It earned him a sharp prod from Rocky. “Ow.” 

“Grace act human age. Big job for Grace, important – will help Grace and Grace siblings solve annoying human arguments.” 

That piqued Court’s interest. “What do you mean, Rock? What’re you thinking?” 

“Rocky thinks Court was given task already,” Rocky said primly. “Important EVA suit is fixed, statement.” 

Court shoved Colt away as his brother shot him a gleeful look, clearly ecstatic that someone else was finally capable of bossing him around. “Don’t you have a playdate with some dirt?” 

“Maybe you should see if the beets will actually take this time,” Ryland said slyly. “I know how much you like them.” 

Obviously at his wits end with them all, Rocky stood and forcibly pushed Ry out of his chair, although not hard nor fast enough to actually make him hit the floor. “Grace.” A rumble like the distant shifting of tectonic plates followed, and Ry threw up his hands in a surrender. 

“Geez, okay.” He stood and did his best to look placid as Court and Colt vacated their own seats, heading in the directions assigned to them. 

Scooping the bits of EVA suit off of the floor and heading for the airlock, Court called over his shoulder, “What did you already check, Ry?” 

“Uh, left arm and inside the collar lining. Colt, do you need the pH testing kit?” 

“Yeah, and maybe that little microscope, if you can spare it.” 

As the sounds of rummaging through drawers grew steadily quieter, Court thought he heard, just on the edges of his hearing, some lowly hummed words from Rocky. 

“That is better.” 

***

“Screw it.” Court threw aside EVA suit three, getting to his feet. Try as he might, after two hours he still hadn’t located the tear, and had to assume it was perhaps a breach that wouldn’t be visible to the human eye. The other two suits were in perfect condition, each registering a full charge of seven hours of life support, ready and waiting to go. 

Court left the little airlock chamber, resolved to ask Rocky for help later on. The Eridian’s plan to split them apart had worked, he had to admit, wonders. Just some time to decompress alone, listening only to the soft hiss of the ventilation system and occasionally muttering to himself, Court felt infinitely calmer. Even though he had longed for time with his brothers back on Earth, this enforced entrapment was just a touch too far. 

Although, he thought, I need to make sure Ry doesn’t get the wrong idea, otherwise he’s going to do that guilt thing again. Court turned in the direction of the lab, hoping that Ryland had also settled thanks to some introvert-time. He stopped in the corridor opening, leaning against the wall. 

It was clear that Ry was in deep concentration, hunched over the workbench with a posture that made Court wince. The lights in the lab were turned down low, and he wondered if this particular experiment was sensitive to brightness. 

Ryland was carefully dripping something out of a pipette and into a test tube, the liquid in the latter turning a sharp, dangerous-looking silver colour with every droplet added. Rocky was standing on a high-stool next to him, a claw extended toward whatever the experiment was, as if he was ready to interfere at a moment’s notice. 

“Court here, Grace, but keep going.” 

Ry nodded, his attention not shifting from what was in front of him. 

Levering himself off of the wall, Court came over. He knew better than to interrupt, and had the feeling that when he did eventually ask what Ryland was doing, he wasn’t going to like the answer all that much. 

“Okay.” Ry said slowly, the last vestiges of the liquid in the pipette drained. He exhaled, sitting back and lifted his goggles into his hair. He offered Court a wan smile. “Done.” 

“Good job,” Rocky praised, giving Ry a one-clawed jazz hand. “Grace have drink now.” 

Court beat him to it, pulling the cooled bottle of water from the sample fridge. “You good, kid? Hey, take those off before you put that near your mouth, c’mon – lab safety.”

“Oh.” Pulling the blue plastic gloves off with a snap, Ry discarded them on the table and unscrewed the bottle’s top. He swigged from it, and Court saw his little brother thinking hard in the silence. Setting the bottle aside, Ryland turned bodily in his chair and looked at Court. “Hey, about this morning –” 

Court waved him away. “We were all being jerks, Ry. Don’t worry about it.”

“Turns out our limit of living together is about eight months, before we all go nuts,” Ryland said ruefully. 

“Begs the question,” Court sat down beside him, “how did you and Colt manage when you shared that apartment?” 

“Badly, at times.” Ryland laughed, “I remember once we actually divided the place up with a line of red tape, straight down the middle.”  

“Grace and siblings are social creatures but also hate each other if left together too long, confusing.” Rocky warbled sadly, shaking his carapace side to side in a very human manner. “Rocky fix.” He pointed to whatever was in the test tube. 

“Y-eah. What is it?” Court said, ducking down to peer closely at the liquid. It looked a little like metallic paint, and swirled mesmerisingly under the dim lights. “Mary, lab lights up to usual day-time brightness, please.” 

“The laboratory’s lights are at full luminosity, Commander.” 

Straightening, Court looked at Ryland, feeling a slight twist in his stomach when his brother seemed just as confused as he did. 

“Did you not dim these, Ry?” 

“No,” Ryland said, glancing around the ceiling, eyes flitting from one strip-light to the next. “I like it more in here when the brightness is about seventy-five percent, but this is definitely not that.”

“Maybe the bulbs just need replacing,” Court said airily, despite the concern he was beginning to feel. 

“Light tubes are in middle right ninth drawer.” Rocky helpfully pointed it out. “Although, Rocky request that at least one light tube be saved for Eridian scientists to study.” 

“Of course, pal.” 

Court occasionally forgot that the concept of ‘light’ was entirely foreign to Rocky, and the people of Erid as a whole. He was willing to bet that the lightbulbs they did keep back for study would be the most highly prized objects to come out of the Hail Mary, once they got there. Maybe even more so than the three aliens that came along with them. 

“We’ve got spares, I’ll get to it in a sec.” 

“Sure.” Ryland’s voice was distant, and Court leaned in a little when he noted a growing vacantness in Ry’s eyes. 

“Hey, we’re okay, kiddo.” He hadn’t seen Ry check out for a while, and did his best to curb this emerging instance as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure how the lights beginning to fail triggered something, but Court knew stuff like this didn’t always need rhyme nor reason. “It’s a ten minute job, if that, it won’t take us too long. Can you tell me what you’re doing now? Rocky said it’s going to fix us not wanting to kill each other.” 

Rocky cooed in alarm. “No killing! Bad, bad, bad.” 

“I’m joking, Rock, calm down. Human figure of speech.” Court kept his voice light and gently set a grounding hand on Ryland’s arm. With relief, he watched as Ry blinked and managed to stop himself sliding into wherever it was he’d been heading. 

“Sorry, say again?” He cleared his throat and managed to hold Court’s gaze for a moment before looking away. 

“I asked what this was,” Court pointed at the test tube rack. “Please tell me it’s not something else disgusting to eat.”

“It’s acid.”

Court blinked, taken aback. “Like melt-your-skin acid, or melt-your-brain acid?” He thought briefly about which of those he’d prefer Ryland’s answer to be, and then came up with a resounding ‘neither’. 

“Eridian acid.” 

Yeah, that’s actually somehow worse and I don’t even know what it does yet. Court took a steadying breath, pushed some of his fringe from his eyes and turned to look seriously at Ryland. “Going to need more than that, kid.” 

“Rocky asked Grace to make Eridian acid,” Rocky hastily jumped in. “We are very careful, no need for concern.” He tapped the test tube lightly with a finger, and then gestured to the bronze coloured lines of his X-EVA suit. “Is only substance Eridians find that can break xenonite joining material.” 

“None of this sounds safe,” Court said flatly. 

“It is,” Ry was seemingly keen to both reassure him and redirect another verbal spat that Court could feel beginning to loom on the horizon. “Rocky’s been guiding me through the process – it’s fascinating, Court, I’d never have thought to mix the things he’s told me to, and some of the materials from his own personal stock are nothing like we have on Earth, it’s –”         

“Ryland.” 

Court hated cutting his little brother off when he was in the middle of an impassioned speech. It made him feel like his father. There were many things that Court was, but he’d sooner put a gun in his mouth than be anything like that man. But sometimes, very rarely, it was necessary to get ahead of Ry before he ended up giving an impromptu science lecture.       

“Acid that can melt xenonite really doesn’t feel safe on a ship made predominantly of aluminium. And besides, why are we destroying the xenonite? Isn’t that stuff a finite resource?” 

Ryland made a gesture that was meant to convey it’s okay, and I hear you, and said, “Watch.” He picked up the test tube and very carefully tipped it, allowing a single drop to hit the workbench surface. 

Court waited for it to sizzle, for a cartoonish hole to eat through the metal, and then for the acid to hit the floor and eat the ship. But it never came. A perfect bead of it remained on the table; it was forcibly reminiscent of liquid mercury. “Oh.” 

“It only works on the bonding material Rocky uses on xenonite.” Ryland expertly lifted the bead with the pipette and dripped it back into the test tube. “We’d need to be careful not to get any on him, obviously, but it’s perfectly safe otherwise. I could have poured it on my hand and nothing would have happened – but I thought you’d yell at me if I did that.” 

“Yeah, I would’ve,” Court muttered, shaking his head. “Okay, so we’re dissolving xenonite bonds, why?” 

Rocky gestured to the tunnels that ran overhead. “Rocky thinks that these are now not useful. Getting in the way, Grace always walking into them –” 

“Hey!” 

“ – and stopping all the doors from closing properly.” Rocky tapped two fingers together. “Did not think about Court Colt and Grace’s need for alone space when constructing, apology.” 

It clicked all at once. With Rocky’s X-EVA suit, the tunnels had been made mostly redundant. If Rocky needed to recharge the atmospheric regulators on the suit, he’d simply retreat into one of the larger xenonite chambers, either in the dormitory, lab or control room. Each of them had their own little interior airlock, and Court couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the Eridian traversing between them in the tunnels. 

He loved being amongst them, able to prod and hug and roughhouse after months – years, even, counting the nearly half century aboard the Blip-A – of not being able to touch another living thing. So, with a little interior remodelling, some more square footage of the ship could be reclaimed, with the added bonus of giving them proper privacy. 

Court didn’t allow himself to get excited, needing to have the logistics fine-tuned before giving into emotion. “Don’t apologise, bud, you didn’t know. Tell me though, how do we break down the xenonite without getting a faceful of superheated ammonia?” 

“Rocky will cycle airlock through xenonite sections, panel off rooms from tunnels. Only oxygen in places where we work, Court should not worry.” Rocky waved his claws dismissively, as if this was something he did regularly and didn’t deem a big deal. 

“Oh. Okay, I guess.” Court wracked his brain for anything else he could think of that might become an issue, but came up empty. “This sounds like a really good idea, Rocky, thank you.” 

Rocky hummed something too low-pitched and too quickly for Court, or the translation software, to properly catch. 

Ry gasped, fixing a – fake – terribly wounded expression on his face. “Take that back.” 

“No.” 

“What did he say?” Court rested his forearms on the table and grinned at Rocky. 

“He said he was also sick of hearing us having unnecessarily loud conversations about trivial things.” Ry tried to shove Rocky, and only succeeded in shoving himself back a little, the Eridian’s solid mass defeating him entirely. 

“No, that’s fair, I’m on his side,” Court said mildly, knowing the reaction it would prompt from Ryland and feeling his grin sharpen when he got what he wanted. 

Whatever Ry had been about to say, however, was stopped by a deep, resounding clang echoing through the Hail Mary. They all started, looking around hurriedly for the source of it. The sound came again, and Rocky perked up, an intense wave of clicks barraging the air. 

“Greenhouse.” 

“Colt.” Court said at the same time as Ry, and all three of them were up and out of their seats in an instant.

Visions of Colt, on the floor, in pain, having fallen and broken something assaulted Court’s mind as they ran, Rocky ahead of them. He wasn’t sure what could have happened to have led to something like that, but his overprotective instinct had kicked into fifth gear and he wasn’t about to rein it back in until he had eyes on his brother. 

They reached the greenhouse – and saw that the hatch door was shut. The clang came again, and Ry canted his head to one side. “Why does that sound familiar …?” 

Rocky approached the closed door and tapped repeatedly on it, no doubt his echolocation making the heavy metal of the door seem like a panel of glass. “Colt hitting door with wrench.” 

All of the worry fled Court’s body: if Colt was capable of bludgeoning a door, he was probably alright. 

“Oh, that’s why, like when I found you.” Ryland came up alongside Rocky, reared back a little as another, somehow even louder clang reverberated through the corridor, and then knocked three times on the door. “Colt? Can you hear me?” 

Three knocks sounded back. “Yeah!” It was obvious that Colt was shouting; even so, he was barely audible. They wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation like this, and besides, Court didn’t really want Colt to shred up his vocal cords.  

“Hang on, let me try something.” He joined them, waited to establish a period of silence, and then began to tap out patterns on the door with his knuckles. 

He knew Colt understood Morse Code, having had to learn it for a stunt role. The director of that film – a world war two spy flick unfortunately not with Jody at the helm – had been scrupulous in his attention to detail. For an underwater scene in a steadily flooding submarine, he’d made it incredibly clear that Colt was to accurately portray an S.O.S message. The next time he’d seen Colt, a few months after filming had wrapped, Court had been surprised to hear Colt asking him if he wanted a beer, without using words. It was a fond memory: Court had responded with a smile and a tapped out ‘yes’, then had shared a laugh at Ryland’s growing indignation, convinced they were talking about him. 

‘U good?’ 

‘Stuck.’ Colt’s tapped response came a moment later. ‘Door.’ 

Court sighed, feeling a burst of frustration with the minor malfunctions the ship displayed more readily with each passing day. First the lights, now the door. He turned to Ry, “Door’s jammed again.”

Ryland groaned dramatically and without another word, span on his heel and stalked off in the direction of the control room. After the first instance of the greenhouse door shutting itself, they had, after much trial and error, found a line of kill code that would manually override the locking system. Ryland had admitted it was a messy string of code, half butchered from other strands run by the central computer, but it got the job done. As long as they didn’t apply it to the exterior airlock door, everything should be fine. 

Left with Rocky in the corridor, Court braced himself for two bad moods coming his way when they got the door opened. Ry, perfectionist that he was, disliked coding, as he wasn’t completely proficient in it and found it far too intricate at times to learn easily. And he didn’t know how long Colt had been trapped for, so no doubt his frustration and boredom levels were rising rapidly. 

‘Ry gone, out soon.’ Court knocked. The only response he got was another resounding clang, confirming the return of Colt’s irritation.    

“What is tapping, question?” Rocky came to stand by his side as Court sank to the floor, resting with his back against the door. “Humans hear light, do not need echolocation.”

“It’s a code,” Court said. “A very old one, used on Earth to communicate things quickly and long distance before we had things like phones. I can teach it to you, if you’d like.” 

“Court learns Eridian first, then teaches Rocky human code.” A light nudge to his ribs signalled that there was no reprimand in Rocky’s words, only gentle teasing. 

“Hey, I’m loads better at it now, better than Ry, in fact,” Court said smartly. 

The Eridian organ had allowed his proficiency in the complex language to go up significantly. Whilst it had been nice for a time to outstrip his brothers at something, the organ had recently become another source of contention, especially between himself and Colt. Court was winning every weekly Eridian lesson competition easily now, and Colt had started to be bitter about it.   

A soft click sounded from behind him, and Court didn’t quite move fast enough before the greenhouse door was thrown open, the heavy metal colliding with his back and head. 

“This fucking ship!” Colt raged as he stormed into the corridor. He didn’t seem to notice Court, hunched over with a hand pressed against the base of his skull. “I hate it, why doesn’t it just work properly?” 

“Court okay, question?” Rocky asked, placing a claw on his shoulder. 

“M’fine.” Court squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sickening ache to fade, and then shot Colt an unimpressed look. “Could have opened that a little more gently, bud.” 

Colt whirled around, took in Court and decided that his tirade was more conducive than checking if he was okay. “Well, how was I supposed to know you were there?” 

“You – actually, nevermind. I cannot be bothered with this right now.” Court clambered to his feet. “I assume you’re fine?” Whilst his question was sincere, it definitely came out a little colder than intended. 

“Aside from being trapped in a,” Colt raised his voice to a yell, “shit spaceship –” 

“I want a work around for this kill code, it’s such a pain in the butt.” Ry appeared, a dark expression on his face. “Why would you bury important code that deep into a database, what if we needed it quickly?” 

“Everyone who built this thing sucked, Ry, that’s why,” Colt snapped. “They didn’t give us a goddamn shower, why would you think easy access to code would be a top priority?” 

“Why are you yelling at me, I just got you out.” Ryland raised an eyebrow. “Besides, they didn’t suck, they just presumed we’d be dead by now. Hence why we’ve got no food that’s actually decent, just stupid watercress.” 

The flippancy with which Ryland spoke made Court’s own anger – fuelled by latent fear that they would still succumb to something out here – flare. “Don’t say stuff like that. We’re not dead and we aren’t going to be, either.” 

“It’s not exactly been smooth sailing, Court.” Colt muttered, bad-temperedly kicking the bottom of the wall, leaving a dark scuff mark there. 

“And we’ve still got three more years to go.” Ry said quietly. Where Colt and Court’s emotions had remained highly strung, it seemed that Ryland’s had tanked. 

“Cheerful, thanks Ry,” Colt scoffed. “If you’d just let me pilot for a little bit, we’d –” 

Court had reached his breaking point. Days of intense emotional ups and downs. An endless wheel of problems that, as soon as one was removed, another seemed to take its place. Two little brothers whom he loved with his heart and soul, but who knew perfectly how to press each other’s and his own buttons. No good food. The inherent, unspoken pressure that they would survive this, rebuild together on Erid, be looked after, if only they could struggle through three more fucking years of this. He’d simply had it. 

“Enough!” The volume of his own voice shocked him a little – and then he decided he simply did not care. “Just – just shut up, will you? Yes, we’re in a shit situation, no, there’s nothing we can do about it, but we have to knock this off! We’re not going to get to Erid if this bullshit carries on.” 

He rounded on Colt. “Ry’s explained why you can’t fly the ship that fast, so stop going on about it.” 

Then, at Ryland, “Yes, the food is horrible, but Colt’s not deliberately sabotaging yours and you have to eat it, come on, Ry!”       

The twins were staring openly at him, Colt slack-jawed and Ryland wide-eyed. Court very rarely lost his temper with them so completely, usually managing to keep calm enough to express that he was angry, and then take himself off somewhere else to cool down in solitude. 

“There’s nothing I can say or do that’ll make this better, but we could at least try to make it easier by getting on with it. Christ, do you think I want to be doing any of this? Do you think I actually want to be yelling at you to smarten up and fly straight? No! We just need to be there for each other,” Court was rapidly running out of steam, the first tendrils of guilt winding through his ribcage. “We just need to be better.” 

“How?” The question came, not from Colt as Court might have expected, but from Ry. “How, Court? Tell us and we’ll do it, but everything lately just feels –” He broke off, glancing away, but not before Court had seen the telltale sheen to his eyes. 

“Impossible,” Colt finished for him. “It’s starting to feel impossible.” He clenched his jaw, matching Ryland’s sadness with ire.  

“Then we have to do the impossible,” Court said simply. “I will not allow you to give up, do I make myself clear?” 

Colt glared at the floor as Ry dragged the cuff of his hoodie – stolen yesterday morning from his twin – across his cheeks. 

“Rocky’s claw is up.” 

Everyone turned to look as the Eridian spoke, his presence nearly forgotten amidst the inadvertent turmoil that had just been unleashed. Sure enough, one of Rocky’s claws was in the air, fingers splayed, as he shifted his carapace to ‘look’ at each of them in turn. 

“Grace do this to get Rocky’s attention first day on ship, to make Rocky listen. I do the same now – listen, statement.” Rocky was silent for a second or so, making sure he had everyone’s undivided focus. “Good. I have solution for siblings to help with sad feelings, angry feelings.” 

“We’ll do the doors another day, Rock, I don’t think now is the best –”

“No, Rocky talking, Court listen now.” 

His tone was imperious, and Court pursed his lips. 

“Doors closing will be outcome, not solution.” Rocky trilled softly, lowering his claw and stepping in place for a moment. “Rocky understands these emotions. Too long, too much. Too hard – whole wide universe against you. Hopeless.” He hunched down a little then, with a little shake, stood up tall. “Not hopeless. Siblings need to find hope, remind each other where hope is.” 

Court, Colt and Ry all looked at one another, a tad sheepishly. Rocky was, Court knew, completely right. They had to live, yes for themselves, but also for each other over the course of this journey. If one of them faltered, the rest had to pick him up and carry on. 

“Here is Rocky’s solution. Work together to get rid of xenonite tunnels. Listen to Earth music, talk about normal things. Remember joy.” He shook his fist at them suddenly. “And no more arguing! I do not have hatchmates, do not understand how Grace and Grace siblings can hate each other and then not between two Earth seconds, but Rocky understands this is difficult situation for all.”

“We …” Colt started, pausing to let out a long breath. Court watched as his brother made a visible effort to loosen his shoulders. “We can do that, can’t we?” 

“Mmhm.” Ryland nodded, polishing his glasses lenses on the hem of his hoodie. He slipped them back on, pushed them up his nose and glanced at Colt. “D’you want me to show you how we’re going to get rid of the tunnels?” 

“Does it involve a big hammer?” Colt asked, starting to smile a little now. 

“No.” 

“Aw.” 

“But it does involve acid.” 

“Which,” Court hastened to add when Colt’s face lit up, “we’ll be using responsibly, got it? And I get to pick the music.” 

That set the twins off complaining again, but Court knew it was all in good nature. He reached down and set the tips of his fingers against the top of Rocky’s carapace. “Thanks, pal,” he murmured. 

“Court is welcome.” Rocky let Court’s hand linger there for a second longer, before warbling loudly to catch Colt and Ry’s attention again. “Follow Rocky, we start at front of ship.” And with that he skittered away, calling intermittently as he went for the “lazy humans, keep up!” 

Twenty or so minutes later, they were ready to make a start. The tunnel leading from the lab to the control room contained nothing more than breathable human-grade air, if still slightly tinted with the scent of ammonia. Rocky’s bubbled pilot’s chair and the lab’s chamber held a perfect twenty-nine atmospheres of pressure at its ridiculously high Eridian temperature, and Rocky assured them all that the panels he’d added to wall off the chambers from the tunnel were completely airtight and structurally sound.

Court hit play on his own curated playlist, and they got to work. They were using small brushes meant for cleaning equipment to lather the Eridian acid onto the xenonite bonds, and Court watched, enthralled, as the moment the silver liquid touched the bronze seams, it ate through them rapidly with a soft sizzle. 

It wasn’t a job they could do concurrently in different places; someone had to hold the panel they were working on in place, as someone else applied the acid, and a third waiting to help catch it as it fell. Court had to appreciate the neatness of Rocky’s plan. A repetitive, yet engaging task that forced them to work together, but not so consuming that they couldn’t chat as they went. 

Rocky himself sat down out of the way, seemingly content to issue instructions as and when he thought they were needed. He’d mentioned that he would need to sleep soon, but expected another hour or so of wakefulness before he went to get comfortable. He vanished part way through, telling them he’d sort out sealing off the dormitory chamber for them, so they could work in there next with the added bonus of watching him sleep.   

The rest of the hour passed peacefully. Colt ribbed his music taste – “Have you got anything from this decade, Court?” – Ryland talked science to whoever would listen, and Court simply enjoyed getting back onto an even keel with his brothers. 

With the control room tunnel deconstructed, they packed up their supplies and carted them through the Hail Mary to the dormitory. 

“Still up, bud?” Ry said as they entered. 

“Y-es.” Rocky’s Eridian was a little slurred, and Court watched fondly as he stretched out his front legs, and then clambered up onto Colt’s bunk. “Sleep now. Watch, question?”

“Always,” Court reassured. 

“Mmm.” Tucking his legs beneath his carapace, Rocky shuffled a little, and then went completely still. 

“Not sure why he had to pick my bed,” Colt grumbled, although without any real annoyance. “What if it’s a sixteen-hour sleep cycle?” 

“Well, you wanted work-out equipment,” Ryland grinned at him, gesturing to Rocky. “Four hundred-ish pounds of Eridian for you to deadlift, if you want.”

“Y’know what, I actually think I’m good, I’ll just take your bed.” Colt grabbed Ry and ruffled his hair as Ry protested heartily – both at the imminent bed theft, and Colt’s treatment of him. 

Even though Rocky quite literally could not be woken, they decided to keep the music off this time around. After working in ambient quiet for a time, shoulder to shoulder, Court broke it, saying softly, “When I get to Erid, I’m going to ask them to make me paints.” He twirled the brush he was using between his fingers. 

“When I get to Erid,” Ryland said, and Court heard the smile in his little brother’s voice, “I’m going to ask for a field-trip to their science hubs.” 

“Nerd,” Colt said affably. “When I get to Erid, I’m going to ask the Eridians to make me a swimming pool with a massive waterslide.” 

“Colt, that feels like we’re beginning to abuse our power a little, kiddo,” Court laughed. “Why does it have to have a waterslide?” 

Colt shrugged. “Why not? Literally saved their planet from extinction, I think I can ask for one.”

“When I get to Erid,” Ry said, “I’m going to pretend I’m Colt, just to confuse them.” 

“Ryland!” Court stopped working entirely now, trying to keep a stern expression on his face whilst knowing he was failing dismally. “You can’t do that, it’s unkind.” Colt and Ry glanced at one another, and Court sensed a story in it. “Tell me.” 

“How does he always know things?” 

“He’s a witch, I’ve told you this before, Ry.” Colt helped Ry lift down another panel of xenonite, setting it carefully against the wall, before turning bodily to Court. “When we were in high school, I sat all of Ry’s English literature tests and he did all of my physics ones.” 

Court stared, dumbfounded, between the twins. “You … you did what? Even the finals?” 

“No, not those, but we’d passed enough of the collective subject grade that, even if we failed the finals, we’d still be okay.” Ryland said casually.

“But –” Court was thoroughly confused. “But how did they not know you’d swapped places?”

Ry started to laugh, Colt grinning broadly. “Court, you’re the only person probably in the known universe who would know who’s who, even if we did this.” 

Colt reached out and swiped Ryland’s glasses, setting them at their usual slightly skewed angle on his nose. Ry came to stand shoulder to shoulder with his twin, straightening his terrible posture so he was of a height with Colt. He put a devil-may-care grin on his face. 

Court shook his head, bemused. It was just Colt wearing Ryland’s glasses and Ryland doing a Colt impression. “I think all your teachers must have been extremely shortsighted.” 

“And thank goodness they were, otherwise I wouldn’t have graduated with a perfect exam record.” Ryland took his glasses from Colt, blinking a little as his vision restored itself. “Can I do the next panel, I haven’t had a go with the acid for a while.” 

“And that’ll be the only time you’ll ever hear that sentence from Ry,” Colt murmured to Court, who passed over the test tube. “And it’s not even the fun sort of acid.” 

“Don’t want to know, thanks, I like my blood pressure where it is.” Court stood in position beneath the next panel and pressed his hands flat against it, Ryland sandwiched between himself and Colt.

They lifted the loosened xenonite down. And then the lights went out entirely.