Chapter Text
The lander’s hatch hissed open and Amelia stepped onto the alien soil of Edmunds’ planet with CASE by her side.
“Well, we made it,” she tried to sound triumphant, but the words came out heavy, tinged with the weight of everything they’d lost to get here. “Find Wolf. Locate his signal.”
CASE’s lights blinked in a rhythmic pattern as he processed the command. “Scanning now, Dr. Brand...I’ve detected a signal. Dr. Edmunds’ modules are operational, approximately 1.2 kilometers northeast.”
A flicker of hope sparked in her chest. “He’s alive?”
“Unclear,” CASE replied. “The signal indicates active modules, but I cannot confirm Dr. Edmunds’ status. Shall we proceed?”
“Yeah,” she said, swallowing hard, her gloved hands tightening into fists. “Let’s go.”
Amelia’s pulse quickened as she followed CASE across the uneven ground, but as they drew closer, her excitement turned into horror. "This can't be...Edmund?! What happened?" Her voice broke as she stumbled toward the wreckage.
“It appears his pod was caught in a landslide,” he explained. With precision, he recovered what remained of Wolf Edmunds—a crumpled suit, a shattered helmet, and the faint outline of the man she’d once dreamed of reuniting with.
Amelia sank to her knees, her gloved hands pressing against the cold ground. Her mind raced, struggling with a brutal reality: Wolf was gone. There would be no joyful reunion, no shared future on this distant world. Even worse, she might very well be the last human alive.
"Can you bury him, please?" she asked, her voice cracking with sorrow.
“Of course, Doctor. Show me where."
CASE dug the grave with mechanical efficiency while Amelia stood watch, her silence heavy with mourning. When it was done, she placed a small marker—a piece of the pod’s hull—above the grave. As she straightened, her gaze catched on something fluttering in the distance: the tattered flag of the Lazarus Mission.
“Dr. Brand,” CASE interrupted gently, “you can remove your helmet. I’ve analyzed the atmosphere—oxygen at 21.3%, CO₂ slightly higher than on Earth but within safe limits. No detectable pathogens.”
"Thank you," Amelia mumbled. She hesitated for a moment, then carefully unlatched her helmet and lifted it off. The alien air was cool against her skin, carrying a faint, unfamiliar scent. She took a slow, deep breath. It was a small victory, but it felt hollow.
Entering Wolf's base, her eyes were immediately drawn to the documents piled on the table. With a heavy heart, she began to look through his last works. His discoveries were astonishing. He’d found water sources in the soil, nearly pure after minimal filtration. He’d documented a magnetic field almost as strong as Earth’s, shielding the planet from cosmic radiation. His journal detailed plans for a drone to map the terrain—plans now tragically unfinished. Each page was a testament to his brilliance, a bittersweet gift that deepened her grief.
“Wolf, you were so close,” she murmured, her voice cracking. She sank into a chair, clutching the journal to her chest.
CASE stood nearby, his lights dimmed in a gesture of respect. “Dr. Edmunds’ work provides a strong foundation,” he said. “You can build on it, Dr. Brand.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes. “I know. I have to.”
Driven by a mix of duty, grief and desperation, Amelia threw herself into action. She and CASE repurposed Wolf's camp and the modules from the Endurance into a unified base. They set up the lab and research module, the living quarters with its small kitchen, two sleeping cabins, a hygiene station and the essential energy and supply module. It wasn’t home—not yet—but it was a start.
After hours of relentless work, Amelia paused to steady her nerves. Her hands shook as she sipped water from a canteen. “Let’s check the embryos,” she said.
CASE led her to the cold storage unit, its frosted door hissed as it slid open. Amelia retrieved a capsule and placed it under the scanner’s soft blue light.
"Status?” she asked, her eyes locked on the display.
“All embryos are stable,” CASE reported. “Vital signs within normal ranges."
Relief washed over her, though it was short. “Good. That's good.”
“When would you like to initiate Plan B, Doctor?”
“Not yet,” she replied, her tone firm despite the exhaustion creeping into her bones. “Wolf’s work is incredible, but there’s still too much we don’t know. The soil’s fertility, the long-term atmospheric stability, the microbial risks—I need certainty, CASE. Absolute certainty before we bring them into this world.”
“Understood,” CASE said. “I’ll prepare the equipment for geological, biological, and meteorological surveys. We can begin with soil core samples and atmospheric monitoring.”
She nodded, already mentally mapping out the tasks ahead. “Let’s do it.”
For hours, they worked under the alien sky. Amelia calibrated sensors, collected soil samples and programmed drones to scan the terrain. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind raced, driven by the weight of her responsibility. CASE, ever vigilant, monitored her closely, his sensors picking up the strain in her movements.
“Dr. Brand, you’re exhibiting signs of severe fatigue. Heart rate elevated, cognitive response time slowed. Recommendation: Rest.”
She waved him off, her hands fumbling with a battery. “Not now, CASE. The supplies still need relocating, and the maintenance module’s power grid is acting up. We can’t stop.”
“Dr. Brand,” he said, stepping closer, his tone firmer. “Your health is critical to the mission. You cannot function effectively without rest. Allow me to handle the remaining tasks.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but her vision blurred and her knees buckled slightly. CASE caught her arm, steadying her with surprising gentleness for a machine.
“Alright,” she gave in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… just for a few hours.”
He guided her to the living module, gesturing toward the narrow bed in one of the sleeping cabins. “I’ll take the night watch,” he said. “Rest, Doctor.”
Amelia sank onto the bed and unlaced her boots, letting them fall to the floor with a dull thud. Despite her exhaustion, sleep was elusive. Her mind was too crowded with memories—of Miller’s Planet, where her miscalculation of time dilation had cost them years. “I should’ve been more cautious,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “Should’ve double-checked the data.” She thought of Doyle, Romilly and the betrayal by Mann, but most of all, she thought of Cooper, His face haunted her—his steady gaze, his quiet strength, the way he’d always found a way to survive. He’d ventured through the wormhole, sacrificing himself for her and Plan B. The memory was a knife in her heart. “You should be here, Cooper,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not me.”
But the reality was undeniable. She was here, alone with CASE, on a planet that might be humanity’s last hope. She had to carry on—for her father, for Wolf, for her fallen comrades and for the embryos waiting in cold storage. With that resolve, she closed her eyes, her breathing slowing as she drifted into a restless sleep.
Chapter Text
Two days later
The alien dawn broke over Edmunds’ planet in hues of lavender and gold, casting long shadows across the uneven terrain. Amelia stood at the entrance of the base. Today, she would venture out—beyond the safety of their camp, into the unknown. CASE whirred softly besides her, his sensors already prepared for the task ahead. She adjusted her gear with unsteady hands. “We need samples,” she said, her tone carrying both command and quiet fear. “Soil, water, air—anything we can analyze. We have to understand this place if we’re going to survive here.”
CASE activated his sensors and sampling devices and together they navigated the sparse but mesmerizing landscape. The robot systematically gathered soil samples, analyzing their texture and chemical composition, while Amelia collected water from a nearby, eerily still river.
"Attention, Doctor, I've detected an unusually high concentration of micronutrients in this soil. This could be beneficial for agriculture, but also potentially toxic." CASE reported.
Amelia paused. "Let's hope it's the former."
She looked at the horizon, where the sun hung low, casting the landscape in a surreal glow. “That’s enough for today. Let’s head back.”
Back at the base station, as night fell, Amelia sat alone in the lab, the silence broken only by the hum of machinery and CASE's occasional sensor clicks. As data streamed across her screen, her thoughts turned to Cooper. She pictured his crooked grin, the way he’d stared into the wormhole with unflinching determination. “CASE, how much time do you think has passed on Earth since we crossed through?” She asked, even though she knew the answer.
"Based on the data from Miller's Planet and time dilation effects, it's likely that decades, if not centuries, have passed on Earth, Dr. Brand."
"There might be no one left," she mumbled to herself, the weight of isolation pressing down on her. She imagined Earth, once vibrant and teeming with life, now a silent graveyard. The thought of her family, her friends, all gone, made her chest ache. “What if we’re all that’s left, CASE? Just you, me, and a box of frozen embryos?”
CASE’s lights dimmed slightly. "The probability of total human extinction on Earth is high, given the environmental collapse projections. But you are here, Dr. Brand, with the tools to ensure humanity’s survival. That is not nothing.”
She gave a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “It doesn’t feel like enough.” Closing her eyes, she fought back tears, forcing herself to focus. They had a mission, a purpose and she couldn't afford to lose herself to despair.
Determined to concentrate on the task at hand, she reached for a box of seeds—spinach, beetroot, tomatoes, dwarf wheat and beans—each chosen for their resilience and nutritional value.
"Dr. Brand, before you begin, I have a suggestion," CASE said.
She turned to him. “What is it?”
“The cultivation process for these crops will take approximately six months under optimal conditions,” he said. “To conserve resources and preserve your health, I recommend entering cryosleep while I manage the planting and initial growth. You could wake when the crops are ready to harvest.”
Amelia’s stomach twisted at the idea. Cryosleep meant surrendering control, entrusting everything to CASE while she lay helpless in a pod. The thought was terrifying—memories of the Endurance’s long slumbers, of waking to find years had slipped away, still haunted her. But the logic was undeniable—cryosleep would preserve her strength, save resources, and fast-track their progress. However the idea of lying dormant, of trusting CASE completely, stirred a primal fear. What if the base’s power failed? What if the crops died? What if she never woke up?
“What if something goes wrong, CASE? What if you need me and I’m… stuck in there?” She asked, her voice tense.
CASE’s lights blinked in a slow, reassuring pattern. “I am programmed to prioritize your safety, Dr. Brand. If any critical systems deviate from their parameters—or if I encounter a situation beyond my capabilities—I will wake you immediately. You have my word.”
“Your word, huh?” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “Did TARS teach you that one?”
“Perhaps,” he replied, his tone carrying a dry wit that reminded her of TARS’s sarcasm. “But I mean it. You are the mission’s linchpin, Doctor. I will not let you down.”
Amelia sighed, her shoulders slumping. The decision wasn’t easy, but she knew it was the right one. She couldn’t keep pushing herself to the brink of collapse—not when so much depended on her. “Alright,” she said finally. “Let’s do it. But you wake me if there’s even a hint of trouble, understand? No heroics.”
“Of course, Doctor. I’ll prepare the cryosleep chamber and initialize the agricultural protocols. You’ll be awakened in six months, unless complications arise.”
She nodded, her gaze lingering on the seed packets. They were more than just plants—they were symbols of hope, of a future she was fighting to build. “These seeds… they’re our shot at survival,” she said softly. “Don’t let them down, CASE.”
“I won’t,” he assured her and Amelia followed him to the cryosleep chamber.
CASE stood at the control panel, his manipulators moving with precision. “The system is ready, Dr. Brand. Environmental conditions are stable, and I’ve programmed a full diagnostic to run every 24 hours. You’ll be safe.”
She forced a smile, though her nerves were frayed. “You sound like you’re tucking me in for the night.”
“In a manner of speaking,” CASE said, his lights flickering in what she swore was amusement. “Rest well, Doctor. I’ll be here when you wake.”
“Good night, CASE,” she whispered as the pod’s lid began to close. The system hummed to life, a chill spreading through her body as the cryosleep process began. Darkness enveloped her, pulling her into a dreamless void.
“Good night, Dr. Brand,” he said, his voice the last thing she heard.
While Amelia slipped into cryosleep, CASE started his work. Each step, each measurement, each adjustment of light and nutrient conditions was precise and efficient. The station continued to live, grow, and prepare for the return of its only human inhabitant, who might be the last hope for humanity in this massive, unknown universe...
Chapter Text
Amelia opened her eyes as the cryosleep capsule woke her from deep slumber. The first moments were always the hardest; the feeling of being torn from a dream. Her legs felt like lead and her heart beat slowly, as if it needed to remember life. But then, at the moment she heard CASE's familiar voice, warmth and hope returned.
“Good morning, Dr. Brand. Welcome back,” he said, his monotone carrying that faint, comforting warmth she’d come to rely on. His lights blinked in a steady rhythm, a pattern she’d jokingly called his “happy face” during their long journey. "I have some surprises prepared for you."
She managed a small smile, her eyes still heavy with sleep. "I hope they are good surprises, CASE."
"They are. Please follow me," he said.
Amelia did as instructed and entered the lab, where she stood amazed. Before her stretched an oasis of green and red, a stark contrast to the otherwise sterile environment of the lab. The vegetables CASE had cultivated during her sleep phase had grown very well.
"CASE, this is…incredible." She marveled, as she moved closer to inspect them. “It’s beyond anything we’d hoped for.”
She could hardly believe her eyes. The vegetables looked healthy and robust, a reminder of long-gone times. She remembered eating these plants last in her childhood, before crop blight and dust on Earth had gradually killed them off. The memory was bittersweet—picnics in the backyard, her mother's laughter, the taste of fresh tomatoes warm from the sun. She closed her eyes, letting the memory wash over her and felt a sting of longing for a world that no longer existed.
The biologist decided to prepare a meal and harvested some of each vegetable. She mixed spinach, beetroot, and tomatoes into a fresh salad and cooked the beans with dwarf wheat into a delicious stew. The aroma of fresh ingredients filled the room and Amelia enjoyed her first real meal in a long time.
While eating, she thought about Plan B. It was the plan that, if Plan A failed, involved continuing the human species through embryos on a new planet. The vegetables before her were a symbol that life could thrive in this alien environment. She imagined a future where children ran through fields of green, where humanity could start anew. The thought was both exciting and terrifying. Exciting because it was possible, terrifying because it rested on her shoulders.
"CASE, it's time. Let's begin the development," she declared after finishing her meal.
“Everything is prepared, Dr. Brand,” he said, rolling toward the lab’s cold storage unit. “The embryos are stable and ready for incubation. Shall I initialize the systems?”
“Yes,” she replied, standing and brushing her hands on her pants. “Let’s do this.”
She carefully extracted the embryos from their cryo-capsules, placing them into incubators with CASE's assistance. "Now comes the hard part," she said, her eyes fixed on the display. “We need to keep conditions stable—temperature, humidity, nutrient flow. Any deviation could ruin everything.”
“I’m adjusting the temperature to 37.2 degrees Celsius,” CASE reported, his manipulators moving with precision. “Humidity is holding at 98%. I’ll monitor development hourly and alert you to any anomalies.”
She nodded. “Good. We can’t afford mistakes.” She stepped back, watching the incubators, their transparent walls revealing the tiny, fragile forms within. They were the future and she felt a fierce protectiveness over them, mixed with fear. What kind of world would they inherit? Would she be enough to guide them?
Their conversation shifted to the next phase of their work. "We need to expand our food supply. I want us to plant more varieties of vegetables in the lab and a test plot outside. I want to see if these plants can survive the open soil.”
“Understood,” CASE said. “I’ll prepare additional seed trays for the lab and configure the irrigation system for an external plot. Recommended varieties: carrots, potatoes, and soybeans, based on soil compatibility.”
“Good call,” she said, crossing her arms. “Let’s start small outside—a few square meters. If it works, we’ll expand. We need to know this planet can sustain us long-term."
Days passed in a cycle of growth and monitoring. The embryos were developing well and the garden outside showed promising signs with the first green shoots breaking through the alien soil. Amelia spent hours taking care of the plants, adjusting the irrigation system and analyzing soil samples. The work was exhausting, but it gave her purpose, a reason to keep going.
Yet, Amelia's scientific curiosity yearned for more than just the limits of their base. “CASE,” she said one evening, her voice alight with determination, “we’re exploring further. This planet’s got secrets, and I want to know them. Prep the drones and the rover—we’re going on an expedition tomorrow.”
CASE turned to her, his lights flickering. “As you wish, Doctor. Which direction?”
“West. We’ve barely scratched the surface there. The scans show unusual geological formations—maybe mineral deposits or better land for crops. We need to know what’s out there.”
The next day, venturing deeper into the unknown territory, they discovered an area covered with a strange, moss-like plant that glowed emerald green. The moss pulsed faintly, its light rhythmic and hypnotic. Amelia knelt down, her gloved hands hovering over the plant, and felt a sense of wonder. "Look at this. It looks like moss but alive in a way I’ve never seen," she said, her voice filled with awe. She carefully collected samples, placing them in sealed containers, while CASE scanned the area for further analysis.
As they trekked back to the base, the day’s discoveries weighed on her mind, mixing with memories of Earth. She thought of her father, his unwavering belief in Plan B and of Cooper, whose sacrifice had made this moment possible. The ache of their absence was a constant companion, but the work—the plants, the embryos—kept her anchored.
CASE, sensing her introspection, broke the silence. “Dr. Brand, how are you feeling? My sensors indicate elevated stress levels since waking from cryosleep. You’ve been working without pause.”
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice faltered. “Work keeps me going. It’s all I have to hold onto out here.”
“Rest is vital too,” he countered, his tone gentle but firm. “The mission depends on your health. Overexertion risks errors, and you are not expendable.”
Amelia gave a tired laugh. “You sound like my dad, always nagging me to slow down. But here, on this planet, there’s nothing else for me. Work is my anchor, my way to cope with… everything.” Her voice broke slightly, and she looked away, blinking back tears. “The loss, the uncertainty—it’s too much sometimes.”
CASE rolled closer. “Understood, Doctor. Grief is a human constant, but you are not alone in this. I am here, and my programming includes more than just data analysis. If you need to… talk, I am capable of listening.”
"I know. And I am truly grateful that you're here," she said, placing a hand on his metallic frame.
“My programming appreciates the sentiment,” CASE said, his lights flickering in what she swore was a smile. “I’ll continue monitoring your health, regardless. No arguments.”
“Deal,” she smiled.
Just then, CASE's alarm sounded.
"Dr. Brand, I'm picking up a signal. A spacecraft is approaching and entering landing pattern over our base."
Her breath caught. "What?! Can you identify it?"
"It's not transmitting any known signal, but the trajectory and speed suggest it's a human spacecraft. However, an unusual model."
The base station came into view and indeed, on the horizon, a small dot was visible, swiftly approaching. Amelia and CASE reached the base just in time to see the spacecraft landing.
“Get ready,” she said, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. “We don’t know who—or what—is coming.”
"Security protocols are activated. All systems are ready."
As they watched, a spacecraft descended, stirring up clouds of dust. Amelia's heart raced as the figure of a man appeared from the descending dust cloud.
“Cooper?!” she whispered, disbelief and hope crashing together as the figure approached.
Chapter Text
The figure removed their helmet, revealing a face she’d thought she’d never see again. Cooper’s familiar features—his weathered skin, his steady gaze, the faint crook of his smile—emerged from the dust. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice carrying the warmth of a man who’d crossed galaxies to find her.
“You are here…” She whispered, her voice shaking with disbelief. She took a step forward, then another, her legs moving on instinct as the distance between them closed.
“Yeah,” Cooper said, his smile widening, his eyes bright with emotion. “I’m here.”
In an instant, they collided in a close hug, arms wrapping tightly around each other as if afraid the other might vanish. Amelia buried her face in his shoulder, her tears soaking into the dark fabric of his space suit. The weight of her loneliness—the endless nights of doubt, the fear of being the last human alive—crashed over her. She sobbed, her body shaking, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline. “I thought you were dead,” she choked out. “I thought I was all alone…”
“Shh, everything’s okay now,” Cooper mumbled. His hand moved to her hair, gently combing through the tangled strands, soothing her with a tenderness that felt like home. “I’m here with you, Amelia. I’m not going anywhere.”
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, still cradled in his arms. Her eyes searched his, seeking confirmation that this wasn’t a dream. “How?” She asked, her voice steadier now but laced with wonder. “How is this possible? You went into Gargantua—I saw you fall. How are you here?”
Cooper chuckled, as if he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it himself. “It’s beyond belief, even to me. After I entered the black hole, I thought that was it—game over. But I ended up in… a Tesseract, this impossible place outside time and space. I could see everything—past, present, future, all at once. TARS and I collected data from inside Gargantua, and I found a way to send it to Murph through gravitational manipulation. It was enough for her to crack your dad’s equation, to save humanity.”
Amelia’s breath caught, her mind racing to process his words. She pictured Murph as she’d last seen her—a fierce, brilliant girl with her father’s stubborn streak—and felt a swell of pride. “Murph did that?” She said, a smile breaking through her tears. “She solved it? That’s incredible...What happened to you then?"
“The Tesseract spat me out,” he said, a faint chuckle escaping him. “I woke up drifting in space, half-dead, until the Cooper Station picked me up.”
“Cooper Station?” She repeated, a smile forming at her lips despite the tears still drying on her cheeks.
“Yeah,” he said, his grin widening with paternal pride. “Named it after Murph. She’s a hero now—her work’s in every textbook, her name carved into history.”
“Did you see her?” she asked, her voice softening, sensing the answer might carry pain. “Murph, I mean. How is she?”
Cooper’s smile faltered. “I saw her,” he said quietly. “But… we lost so much time. Time dilation, you know? When I got back, she was old, surrounded by her kids, grandkids. She was happy, proud, but…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard. “She told me to find you. Said you were out here, carrying the torch. She wanted me to keep going, to help you.”
Amelia’s heart ached for him, for the years stolen by relativity. She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Cooper. Losing that time… I can’t imagine.”
He nodded. "It’s not fair, but it’s what we signed up for, right? Chasing the stars, saving the world.” He managed a small smile, gesturing behind him. “Speaking of, I brought an old friend.”
From the spacecraft’s hatch rolled TARS, his boxy frame as unmistakable as ever. “Good to see you again, Dr. Brand,” he said, his voice carrying the same sarcastic edge she remembered. “Nice planet you’ve got here. A bit dusty, but I’ve seen worse.”
Amelia laughed. “Hey, TARS. Good to see you too. Still got that charming personality, I see.”
“Upgraded my sarcasm module to version 2.0,” TARS said, rolling closer. “You’re welcome. Also, nice work not dying out here. I had my doubts.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling.
Cooper clapped a hand on CASE’s frame. “CASE, good to see you holding down the fort. Keeping her out of trouble?”
“An ongoing challenge,” the robot replied, his monotone laced with dry humor. “Dr. Brand’s propensity for overwork requires constant monitoring.”
Amelia rolled her eyes again, but her smile lingered. “Alright, enough ganging up on me. Come on, I want to show you what we’ve built.” She said and led them toward their base.
Inside, CASE and TARS began syncing their data, while Cooper glanced through Amelia's documents. Eventually, she led him into one of the labs.
"Wow," he gasped, his eyes scanning the vibrant, thriving vegetables. "This is incredible...Haven't seen tomatoes this healthy in ages."
Amelia smiled and picked one. "Here, try it."
Cooper bit into it. “Goddamn,” he said, wiping his mouth with a grin. “Tastes like summer back on Earth, before everything went to hell. You’ve got a green thumb, Amelia.”
“Most of the credit goes to CASE,” she said, looking at the robot. “I was in cryosleep for six months while he played farmer. And Wolf’s research laid the groundwork—his data on water deposits and the magnetic field gave us a head start.”
"What happened to him?" He asked, his tone gentle, aware of the sorrow in her eyes.
Her voice dropped, heavy with old grief. “He didn’t make it. When I landed, he was already gone—his pod was buried in a landslide, probably not long after his last signal. I found him, but… it was too late.”
Cooper felt the pain in her words and reached out, taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. Landing here, finding that… I can’t imagine what it was like, being alone with that kind of loss.”
She squeezed his hand, drawing strength from the contact. “It was hell,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I let myself hope he’d be here, that we’d have a chance to build something together. Finding him like that… it broke something in me. But CASE helped me keep going, and Wolf’s work gave me a purpose. I had to make it mean something.”
Cooper nodded, his eyes full of understanding. “You did. This place, these crops—it’s more than most could’ve done. You’re carrying the whole damn mission on your shoulders.”
She gave a shaky laugh, brushing away a stray tear. “Not anymore. You’re here now.” She paused, her expression shifting to one of quiet regret. “Cooper, I… I should’ve fought harder for Wolf’s planet back on the Endurance. You thought I was biased, and maybe I was, but I knew this place was our best shot. If I’d pushed harder—”
He cut her off, his voice gentle but firm. “No, Amelia, don’t do that. I should’ve listened to you. Mann’s planet was too close to Gargantua—too risky. I didn’t want to hear it, thought it was just wishful thinking on your part. But you were right.” He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with hers. “Love does transcend time and space. I didn’t get it then, but I do now. Wolf sent that signal because he loved you—he wouldn’t have risked your life if he didn’t believe in this place. And me? I connected with Murph across dimensions because of love. It’s what brought me here, to you.”
Tears welled in Amelia’s eyes again, but she smiled through them, her heart lighter than it had been in months. “We made mistakes, Cooper, but we’re here. Humanity’s got a shot because of us. I don’t want the past to weigh us down anymore.”
“Deal,” he said, his grin returning. “No more looking back. Just forward.”
She laughed, the sound bright and freeing. “Hungry? I could whip up some stew. Beans, wheat, maybe some greens—nothing fancy, but it’s real food.”
“Real food sounds like heaven,” he said, following her to the kitchen. They sat at the small table, sharing stories over bowls of steaming stew. Amelia described her life on the planet—the glowing moss she’d found, the embryos developing in the lab, the quiet victories of each new sprout. Cooper recounted his reunion with Murph, the marvels of Cooper Station, and the bittersweet joy of seeing his daughter’s legacy.
“You could’ve stayed with the station,” Amelia said, her spoon hovering mid-air. “It sounds like a whole new world out there. Why come all this way?”
Cooper leaned back, his expression softening. “Because you’re the only person left I know in this universe. The station’s years behind me—they won’t get here for a long time. I wasn’t about to leave you out here alone, not after everything.” He grinned, a spark of his old mischief returning. “Besides, you know I can’t resist a good adventure.”
She laughed, the sound echoing in the small room. “Fair enough. I’m just glad you’re here, adventure or not.” She glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. “It’s late, though. We should rest. Long day tomorrow.”
Cooper nodded, stretching his arms. “Yeah, I’m beat. Lead the way.”
She guided him to the sleep module, a compact room with two narrow beds modified for comfort during her time with CASE. “We’ve tweaked these a bit,” she said, opening the door. “Not exactly luxury, but better than the Endurance’s bunks.” She hesitated, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “Mind if I sleep here too? I know it’s silly, but… I’m scared I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, like this was all a dream.”
“Not silly at all,” Cooper reassured with a smile. “I’d like the company. Just a heads-up—I snore.”
“Music to my ears,” she teased, her laughter brightening the dim room. She hung a bedsheet across the room as a makeshift privacy screen, a small gesture to preserve their boundaries in the cramped space. They settled into their beds, the hum of the base lulling them into a quiet calm.
But in the night, Amelia’s rest was shattered by a nightmare. “No… don’t… stay!” The words were choked, laced with panic, as if she were reliving the moment she’d lost Cooper to the black hole.
Cooper stirred, instantly alert. He crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside her. “Amelia,” he whispered, his voice soft but urgent. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She didn’t wake, her movements growing more frantic. Without hesitation, he slid onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms. “Shh… I’m here,” he mumbled, holding her tightly, his hand stroking her back. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
Her body tensed, then slowly relaxed against him, her breathing easing as the nightmare’s grip loosened. Exhaustion overtook them both and they drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, tangled together under the faint glow of the base’s lights.
Chapter Text
"Good morning," Amelia greeted Cooper as he entered the kitchen module.
"Good morning," he said back, his voice still rough from sleep, but a smile began to form as he rubbed his eyes. He looked messy, his hair sticking up at odd angles, which only made Amelia's smile widen.
He furrowed his brow as he looked out of the small window. "Is it still dark out? Or did I sleep through the whole day?" he asked, confused.
Amelia chuckled softly while preparing breakfast, the scent of fresh tomato soup filling the air. “It’s still dark. Nights here are long—twelve hours, to be exact. Took me weeks to sync my body to this planet’s rhythm. Days are twenty-eight hours, so you’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”
“Twelve-hour nights, huh,” Cooper mumbled, leaning against the counter, his gaze lingering on the darkness outside as if searching for the first hint of dawn. “Feels like we’re on some cosmic vacation resort, minus the beach.”
“Give it time,” she teased, ladling soup into bowls. “We might find a beach yet. Or at least something that passes for one.” She set the table, handing him a glass of water purified from the planet’s underground springs. “So, you up for a little adventure today? Get a feel for this place?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, his smile widening as he took a spoonful of the soup. “This is good, Amelia, damn good...” He paused, savoring the taste, his eyes distant with memory. “How far have you ventured out there?”
She sat across from him, her own bowl steaming in front of her. “Not far—about three square miles around the base. CASE and I stuck close, setting up the crops, monitoring the embryos. To be honest…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting his, a flicker of vulnerability in her gaze. “I was scared to stray too far. This place is beautiful, but it’s… overwhelming. Every step feels like a leap into the unknown.”
Cooper nodded, his expression softening with understanding. “I get that. After everything we’ve been through—wormholes, black holes, planets that try to kill you—it’s hard to trust anything new. But you’ve built something solid here. That takes guts.”
She smiled, a quiet pride in her eyes. “Thanks. It’s been a lifeline, keeping me sane. But now that you’re here, I’m ready to push further. There’s so much we don’t know about this planet.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, finishing his soup with a satisfied sigh. “Let’s see what mysteries this place is hiding.”
As dawn broke over Edmunds' planet an hour later, painting the sky with shades of purple and gold, Amelia and Cooper prepared for their exploration mission. The Rover, a small drone, and TARS were their companions, while CASE stayed back to secure the base.
“God, this is something else,” Cooper said, his voice tinged with awe. “I’d almost forgotten what clean air feels like.”
“It’s a gift,” Amelia replied, her smile radiant as she climbed into the Rover’s driver seat. “Every breath feels like a second chance.”
She drove the Rover over the uneven terrain while Cooper controlled the drone that flew ahead, scanning the landscape. His fingers danced over the controls like a maestro conducting an orchestra.
“Drone’s picking up something odd,” Cooper said suddenly, his brow furrowing as he studied the controls. “Two miles out. Looks like… hell, I don’t know, some kind of structure. Worth a look?”
“Definitely. Let's check it out,” she replied.
The Rover rumbled across the dunes, kicking up clouds of fine dust. Amelia’s eyes scanned the horizon, her scientific mind already racing with possibilities. Suddenly, she spotted something glinting in the sand—a patch that didn’t match the surrounding terrain.
“Wait,” she said, slowing the Rover. “Look at that. It’s not sand or stone. Could it be… organic?”
Cooper leaned forward, squinting. “Yeah, doesn’t look like any rock I’ve seen.” He hopped out, kneeling beside the object. It was a strange, crystalline structure, about the size of a football. He ran a gloved hand over it, marveling at its smoothness. “This thing’s soaking up light like a battery. Look at how it glows inside.”
“Maybe it’s a sunflower… minus the flower,” TARS quipped, rolling up beside them, his lights blinking in a pattern that screamed sarcasm.
Amelia burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the dunes. “TARS, you’re ridiculous. But you’re not wrong—it could be some kind of photosynthetic organism. Or something we don’t even have a name for yet.” She pulled out a sampling kit, carefully collecting a fragment of the crystal. “We’ll run a full analysis back at the base.”
“We should mark this spot,” Cooper said, standing and brushing sand from his knees. “TARS, can you handle that?"
“Already done, cowboy,” TARS said. “Coordinates logged, signal sent to CASE. I’m basically your personal GPS, Cooper.”
“Thanks, slick,” Cooper said with a grin. “Let’s keep moving.”
They continued their journey. The drone soon showed another unusual spot on the ground. This time it was a rock shimmering in countless colors.
“Holy shit,” Cooper said, leaning closer to the screen. “These look like gemstones, but… alive?”
Amelia parked the Rover, her eyes wide with excitement. “Could be mineral-based life forms. Or some kind of bioluminescence triggered by the sunlight.” She hopped out, kneeling beside one of the rocks, its surface pulsing faintly. “Wolf’s notes mentioned trace minerals in the soil, but nothing like this.”
“Maybe the planet’s running its own jewelry store,” TARS said, rolling closer. “I’ll take a necklace in blue, guys. "
Cooper snorted. "TARS, what was your humor setting at right now?"
"75%."
“Dial it back to 60,” he said, shaking his head.
“60% confirmed. Spoilsport.”
Amelia giggled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You two are like an old married couple."
They checked the mineral further until Cooper noticed the drone had detected something in the distance.
"The drone shows a cave or some kind of opening in the ground. That could be interesting."
They approached the opening cautiously. The air coming from the cave was cool and carried an unfamiliar scent.
"Let's be careful. We don't know what's down there," Amelia warned.
They sent the drone into the cave first. The images that came back showed an underworld full of glowing plants and crystalline structures reflecting sunlight that filtered through cracks in the cave.
"This is incredible. We've discovered an entire new world here," Cooper marveled.
"And it's not even noon yet," TARS added. "I say we declare this the Year of Cave Exploration. Who’s with me?”
Amelia laughed, shaking her head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, TARS. We need to study this properly."
They decided to send the drone deeper into the cave while they remained at the entrance, analyzing the data. The drone found an underground spring, its water crystal clear with a light blue tint that glowed in the cave's darkness.
"The water could tell us a lot about the planet's chemical composition," Amelia noted, her scientific curiosity awakened.
"And maybe about the life forms that might exist here," Cooper added.
They decided to hold off on entering the cave until they could return with better equipment—lights, climbing gear, and a second drone for backup. For now, they collected more samples from the entrance, sealing them in containers for analysis. As they headed back to the base, the Rover loaded with data and specimens, Amelia felt a spark of hope. This planet wasn’t just a refuge—it was a world of possibilities, waiting to be uncovered.
That evening, Amelia was in the lab, calibrating a spectrometer to analyze the crystalline samples, when Cooper poked his head in. “Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey,” she replied, a smile spreading across her face. She gestured to the incubator screens, where the embryos’ faint heartbeats pulsed steadily.
“Ran through the drone footage again—didn’t want to miss anything. How’re they holding up?”
“Thriving, actually,” she said, her voice lifting with pride. “Better than I’d hoped. The gravity, the air—it’s like this place was made for them.”
"When will they be ready?" Cooper asked, stepping closer to look at the screens, his expression a mix of awe and responsibility.
“Six months,” she replied, then tilted her head toward them. “Look at that—they perk up when we talk. Like they’re already craving company.”
“Little socialites,” Cooper chuckled.
Amelia smiled, but her expression grew thoughtful. “It’s in our nature, isn’t it? Yearning for others. Connection. It’s what keeps us going, even out here.”
Cooper nodded, his gaze drifting to the lab’s window, where the alien night sparkled with stars. "Speaking of which, I don't know if you remember, but last night...I don't want you to think wrongly of me, Amelia."
She turned to him, confused. "What's wrong?"
“You had a nightmare,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, full of quiet concern. “You were panicking, crying out. I didn’t know what to do, so I… I lay down next to you, just to calm you. It felt right in the moment, but I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
Amelia’s heart softened, warmth spreading through her at his honesty. “Cooper, it’s okay. I know you meant well. Those nightmares… they hit me every night here. Fear, isolation, the ghosts of everyone we’ve lost. But last night…” She paused, a gentle smile curving her lips. “It wasn’t as bad. Having you there helped. Thank you.”
He exhaled, relief in his eyes. “We’re a team, Amelia. We look out for each other.”
“Always." She stood, brushing her hands on her pants, eager to shift the mood. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving and I’ve got a beetroot puree that’ll blow your mind.”
At the table, Cooper scooped up a spoonful of the vibrant puree, his face lighting up. “Man, I’d forgotten how good this stuff is. Like my mom’s cooking, but… better.”
“High praise,” Amelia said, savoring a bite. “Simple, but perfect. Reminds me of home—well, what home used to be.”
He leaned back, looking at the modest module, its walls lined with equipment and data screens. “You know, it’s strange to say, but I like it here. Feels… right.”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”
"Yeah. How can I say it...My whole life, I’ve been on a journey—Earth, the Endurance, Cooper Station. Sitting on the porch of that replica house on the station, I knew it wasn’t where I belonged. But here…” He gestured to the room, the planet beyond. “It’s not perfect, and we’ve got a mountain of work ahead, but it feels like home. Like I’ve finally arrived.”
Amelia’s expression softened, her spoon pausing mid-air. “Funny you say that. Since I landed, it’s like I’ve shed my old life. Earth feels like a half-remembered dream, something from another person’s story.”
"I feel the same."
"Really?" She asked, her voice soft and thoughtful.
"Uh huh. Maybe it’s the work keeping us busy, or the distance, or all the years that’ve passed. But Earth… it’s like a previous life, someone else’s memory.”
Amelia nodded, a quiet agreement settling between them. They finished their meal in companionable silence.
Late in the evening, Cooper lay in his bed and put his headphones on. He closed his eyes and listened, as he often did, to the nature sounds from Earth.
"Hey... What are you listening to?" Amelia asked curiously as she entered the room.
"Nature sounds from Earth. It helps me relax," he replied, offering her one of the earbuds.
She crossed the room and sat beside him, taking the earbud and slipping it in. Instantly, she was enveloped by the forest’s symphony—the wind through the trees, the distant call of an owl, the soft rush of water. She closed her eyes, a wave of peace washing over her. “This is beautiful,” she whispered. “So soothing. Like being back in my dad’s old cabin, before everything changed.”
“Yeah,” Cooper said, his voice low and warm. “Found this recording on the Endurance’s archives. It’s like a little piece of home, wherever I go.”
They sat there in silence for a while, the sounds of Earth putting them both into a sort of trance. Eventually, as tiredness took over, Amelia lay down beside him, her hand finding his, and together they fell asleep, arm in arm.
Chapter Text
The next morning, the first rays of dawn were just touching the horizon of Edmunds planet when Cooper and Amelia prepared for their return to the cave. They gathered their gear, including advanced equipment for biological sampling and analysis. The Rover was loaded with everything they might need for a full exploration. TARS, now with his humor setting at 60%, joined them as they set off toward their destination.
With cautious steps, they entered the cave, the drone leading the way, lighting up walls that seemed to pulse with life.
"Look at this," Cooper pointed as the drone navigated deeper into the cave. The images showed what looked like shell-like creatures, attached to the walls, their shells shimmering like crystals under the cave's natural light.
"Wow!" Amelia said, her voice a mix of excitement and scientific curiosity. "These could be some form of sessile organisms, like barnacles but...with shells that seem to reflect light for photosynthesis."
"Or protection," Cooper mused, watching as the drone got closer. "They're not moving, though. Maybe they're resting during the day?"
"Let's get closer and see," she suggested and they made their way into the cave, the air getting cooler and more humid as they went down.
As they approached, the shell-like creatures began to pulsate a little, a subtle sign of life that hadn't been visible from afar.
"They're reacting to us," Cooper noted, his eyes wide with wonder. "Or maybe to the light from our flashlights?"
"Could be both," she said, pulling out her data pad to record everything. "Look at how they're arranged, almost like a coral reef... We need to collect some samples," Amelia said, pulling out a specialized container.
TARS, hovering nearby, analyzed the data. "Preliminary scans suggest these organisms are integrating minerals from the cave walls with the water from that spring. Could be a new branch of life—part mineral, part organic. I’m calling it ‘TARSium’ until you come up with something better.”
Amelia laughed, sealing the shell in a container. “TARSium, huh? We’ll see if it sticks. Let’s check out that spring.”
They moved into the cave, collecting water samples. Each drop seemed to sparkle with life or at least potential for it. The blue glow of the water was mesmerizing.
"It could be teeming with microorganisms," Amelia speculated, her mind racing with theories.
Back at the base, the atmosphere was full of excitement. They rushed to the lab, where Amelia led the analysis. "Let's start with the water," she suggested.
Cooper watched as she placed a droplet on a slide, looking through the microscope. "Here we go...Oh, look! There are definitely microorganisms here, and they're glowing!"
"Let me see," he said, taking a look. "They're like tiny stars. What are they?"
"Could be bioluminescent bacteria or something completely new," she replied, her voice filled with awe. "We'll need to conduct a full spectrum analysis."
They spent hours running tests, analyzing the spectral properties of the water, the shells, and the microorganisms. “The shells aren’t just protective," Amelia said. "They’re refracting light in specific patterns—could be a signaling system, or maybe they’re channeling energy to the bacteria inside.”
Cooper leaned over her shoulder, studying the data. “So, what, they’re like tiny solar panels? Powering the whole cave?”
“Exactly,” she replied, her eyes gleaming. “This could be a self-sustaining ecosystem, using light, minerals, and water in ways we’ve never seen. If we can understand it, it could change everything for the colony—energy, food, maybe even medicine.”
He let out a low whistle, his respect for her growing. “You’re something else, Amelia. Most people would’ve stopped at ‘pretty shells.’ You’re already rewriting the book on alien biology.”
She blushed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just doing my job, Coop. But… thanks. It means a lot, having you here to bounce ideas off.”
Cooper grinned, nudging her shoulder. “Team effort. Now, what do you say we call it a day?"
“Yeah,” she agreed, stretching her arms with a tired smile. “Let’s clean up and check on the embryos. Then we’re done.”
Amelia headed to the embryo chamber with CASE, who greeted her with his usual precision. “Dr. Brand, the embryo chambers are stable. Nutrient levels optimal, vital signs within expected ranges.”
“Thanks, CASE,” she said, her voice softening as she checked the monitors. The faint heartbeats pulsed steadily, a reminder of the future they were building. “They’re doing great. Keep an eye on the temperature tonight, okay? This planet’s nights can get chilly.”
“Affirmative,” the robot assured. “I’ll maintain optimal conditions.”
Meanwhile, Cooper headed for a shower, the sensation of water, a comforting reminder of Earth, washing away the day's dust and stress.
Later, with night enveloping Edmunds' planet, Cooper joined Amelia outside, wrapping them in a blanket against the night's chill. They sat, looking at the star-filled sky.
"This reminds me of Orion, just shinier." Cooper murmured, pointing out a constellation.
Amelia smiled. “Yeah, it’s beautiful. So many stars, so many possibilities.” She turned to him, her voice softening. “Thank you, Cooper.”
“For what?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he met her eyes.
“For being here,” she said, gesturing to the base, the planet, the stars. “For all of this. I was holding it together, but… it was hard, doing it alone. Having you here—it’s like I can breathe again. Like I’m not carrying the weight of the world by myself.”
Cooper felt warmth, not from the blanket but from her words, from her presence. He looked at her, truly seeing her - the resilience in her eyes, the curve of her smile, how the starlight danced in her shoulder length hair. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he said, his voice low and sincere, carrying a depth of feeling he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back.
Amelia's hand found his under the blanket, their fingers intertwining as if they had always been meant to.
The stars continued their silent dance above, but their focus had shifted to each other. She leaned in, her breath mixing with his in the cool air. "I'm glad you're here with me," she whispered, her eyes meeting his, conveying more than just gratitude.
His response was a kiss, tender and full of unspoken promises, closing the distance between them. Her hand moved to his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, a moment of connection, of shared dreams and burdens, under the alien stars, a silent acknowledgment that they were more than colleagues or friends; they were partners in this new world.
Chapter Text
She pulled back a little, her eyes searching Cooper's. "It's been a long day," she whispered.
"It has," he agreed, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.
They stood up, the blanket slipping to the ground, forgotten. Hand in hand, they walked back into the base, the path lit only by the faint glow of distant stars and the soft light from within their station.
In the quiet of their shared living space, they moved with a silent agreement towards their sleep module.
Amelia turned to him, her eyes shimmering with a mix of vulnerability and courage. “I’ve been thinking about this moment, Cooper,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile truth. “Not just tonight, but… for a while. Even when I thought I’d lost you.”
He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her into an embrace that radiated comfort and protection. His chest was solid against hers, grounding her in the present. “I have too,” he admitted, his voice low and earnest. “Back on the Endurance, when we were fighting for every second, I felt this… pull toward you. I didn’t know what it meant then—hell, I was too busy trying to keep us alive. But now…” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, “I know.”
Amelia’s breath caught, her heart racing as she looked up at him. “What does it mean?” She asked, her voice shaking with hope and fear. She needed to hear it, needed to know they were on the same page after all they’d endured.
He smiled. “It means you’re home to me, Amelia. Not just this planet, not just the mission—you. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”
Her breath caught, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled through them, her hands resting on his chest. “You’re home to me too,” she said, her voice steadying with conviction.
They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of their words settling like a promise. Then, with a shared glance, they moved closer, their actions guided by instinct and trust. Amelia’s fingers shaked slightly as she reached for the buttons of Cooper’s shirt, her touch light but deliberate, sparking warmth along his skin. He watched her, his eyes filled not just with desire but with deep respect, seeing not only her physical presence but the essence of her—the scientist, the survivor, the woman who’d carried humanity’s hope across the stars. “You sure?” he asked softly, giving her space to choose.
She nodded, her smile soft but certain. “Yeah."
Cooper mirrored her, his hands gentle as he slid her NASA jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud. Their skin met, warm and electrifying, as they shed the last barriers between them. His hands explored her back, tracing the line of her spine, feeling her heartbeat through her skin. Amelia's breath stopped as she felt his touch, her own hands roaming over his chest, feeling the strength and vulnerability of the man before her.
They moved to the bed, a place that had been merely for rest now transformed into a space of profound connection. Lying down, Cooper's eyes locked with Amelia's, communicating without words the depth of his feelings. He kissed her neck, his lips brushing against her pulse.
She responded with equal passion, her hands in his hair, guiding him closer. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him into her embrace, their bodies aligning perfectly as if they were meant to fit together all along.
They lay together afterward, their breathing slowing, the sweat on their skin cooling. He traced patterns on her arm, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a sound that now felt like home.
"I could stay like this forever," Cooper said, smiling.
"Me too," she murmured.
The silence that followed was comfortable. They lay there, the only movements the occasional shift for comfort or the tender touch of fingertips against skin.
After a while, she propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a thoughtful expression, her finger tracing circles on his chest. “Do you think it was meant for us to get together?"
Cooper’s eyes searched hers, his hand coming to rest over hers, stilling her tracing fingers. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady with conviction. “Remember what you said about love, back on the Endurance? How it transcends time and space? I felt it when I was leaving Cooper Station, this… pull, like gravity drawing me back to you. I didn’t know if you’d still be here, but I had to find out.”
Her lips curved into a smile, her eyes sparkling with the starlight they’d left outside. “Maybe it was our destiny, to find each other,” she mused. “Not just for the mission, but for… this. For us.”
Cooper chuckled. “Destiny, huh? Never thought I’d be a guy who believes in that stuff. But with you… yeah, I can buy it.” He paused, his expression softening. “I want this, Amelia. Us, together, always."
She nodded, smiling, her agreement sealed with a passionate kiss, their lips speaking what words couldn't fully express.
As the night deepened, their conversation dwindled into soft murmurs. Cooper's arms enveloped Amelia, pulling her close. Their breathing synchronized, and slowly, they drifted into sleep, wrapped in each other's warmth.
Chapter Text
Cooper shuffled in the kitchen module, his hair still mussed from sleep. He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her—bathed in the dawn’s glow, her smile soft as she stirred the pan. A warmth spread through him, deeper than the morning’s light. He crossed the room quietly, slipping his arms around her waist from behind and leaned in, kissing her cheek gently.
Amelia’s smile widened as she leaned into his touch. “Good morning,” she said and tilted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes sparkling with warmth.
“Morning, darlin,” he mumbled, his arms tightening briefly before he stepped to her side, keeping one hand on her lower back. “Smells amazing in here. You’re spoiling me already.”
She laughed, flipping a flatbread with a practiced flick of her wrist. “Don’t get used to it, hotshot. I only cook when I’m in a good mood.” She glanced at him, a playful glint in her eyes. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling pretty great today.”
“Lucky me,” he said, his grin crooked and warm. He leaned against the counter, watching her work, his heart lighter than it had been in years. “Last night… it was something else, Amelia. I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and find out it was all a dream.”
She paused, setting the spatula down, her expression softening. “It wasn’t a dream,” she said, reaching for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. “It was real. We’re real.” She squeezed his hand, grounding them both in the moment. “Now, sit down before this gets cold.”
He chuckled, pulling out a chair at the small table. “Yes, ma’am.” As she served the food, he took a bite of the protein scramble, his eyes widening. “Damn, this is good. You’ve been holding out on me with these cooking skills.”
“Blame CASE,” she said, sitting across from him with her own plate. “He’s the one who optimized the herb ratios. I just follow his lead.”
“CASE, the master chef,” Cooper said, shaking his head with mock disbelief. “What’s next, TARS opening a comedy club?”
She laughed, the sound bright and infectious. “Don’t give him any ideas." She took a sip of water, her expression turning thoughtful. “Speaking of CASE and TARS… I think we should tell them about us.”
Cooper raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “What, you mean announce we’re officially a couple? Like, send out invitations?”
She swatted his arm lightly, grinning. “Not like that, you goof. But they’re our team—our family out here. They deserve to know we’re… together. It affects how we work, how we plan. Plus, I don’t want them wondering why we’re sneaking around like teenagers.”
He nodded, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “You’re right. Let’s do it. They’ll probably take it better than we think.” He leaned back, raising his voice slightly. “CASE! TARS! Got a minute?”
The hum of treads echoed from the hallway as CASE and TARS rolled into the kitchen module, their lights blinking curiously. CASE’s sleek frame glinted under the overhead lights, while TARS’s boxy form carried a faint layer of cave dust, a testament to yesterday’s adventure.
“What’s the crisis?” TARS asked, his lights blinking in a pattern that screamed curiosity. “Cooper try to cook and set off the fire alarms?”
“Very funny, slick,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No crises. Just something we wanna share.” Cooper looked at Amelia, giving her a small nod to take the lead.
She took a deep breath, her hand finding Cooper’s under the table. “CASE, TARS,” she began, her voice steady but infused with warmth, “Cooper and I are together now. As a couple. We wanted you to know, because you’re not just our crew—you’re family.”
CASE’s lights blinked in a slow pattern, his voice calm and sincere. “Congratulations, Dr. Brand, Cooper. Your partnership strengthens the mission’s foundation. I wish you both happiness and will adjust my protocols to support your dynamic.”
Amelia smiled, touched by his kindness. “Thank you, CASE. That means a lot.”
TARS, predictably, took a different approach. “Well, hot damn, you two finally caught up to what my sensors figured out light-years ago. Those heart-eyes were brighter than a supernova.” His lights flickered in a cheeky pattern. “Guess I’ll have to start planning the wedding. Should I book a cave for the ceremony? Maybe get some of those glowy plants for mood lighting?”
Cooper burst out laughing, shaking his head. “TARS, you’re incorrigible. Keep it at 60%, alright? And no wedding plans—yet.”
“Yet,” TARS repeated, his tone dripping with mischief. “I’m holding you to that, cowboy. I’ve already got a speech prepared—90% humor, 10% sappy.”
Amelia laughed, her tension easing. “You’re impossible, TARS. But thank you—for the sentiment, not the wedding planning.” She glanced at Cooper, her smile softening. “Okay, now that’s out of the way, let’s talk about today’s plans. We’ve got a lot to do.”
Cooper leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of determination. “I’ve been thinking—we need to start building outside, preparing for the future. The embryos are six months out and Cooper Station’s on its way, even if it’s years off. We need infrastructure—greenhouses, storage, maybe even living quarters. I want to fire up the 3D printer and get to work.”
CASE's sensors whirred. “A logical proposal, Cooper. However, constructing external facilities will require significant resources—polymers, metals, energy. Our current stockpile is sufficient for small-scale projects, but large-scale construction will necessitate additional materials.”
He nodded, rubbing his chin. “Alright, what do we have on hand, and how much more would we need? Can we mine or recycle anything from the planet?”
CASE projected a holographic inventory on the table, listing their resources—plastics from the Endurance’s salvage, metals from the base’s construction kits, and a limited supply of rare earths. “We have enough for two mid-sized greenhouses and basic storage units,” he said. “For anything larger, we’d need to extract minerals from the planet’s crust. The cave’s silica and metal deposits could be viable, but we’d require drilling equipment and a refining process.”
“Drilling, huh?” Cooper said, his pilot’s problem-solving instincts kicking in. “We’ve got the Rover’s core sampler—could we modify it for deeper extraction? Maybe repurpose some of the Endurance’s old tools?”
“Feasible,” CASE said. “I can recalibrate the sampler and fabricate drill bits using the 3D printer. Estimated time: three days. However, we’d need to conduct geological surveys to identify optimal drilling sites.”
Amelia listened, her expression thoughtful, but a flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “Before we dive into drilling, there’s something I haven’t told you, Cooper,” she said, her voice quieter, carrying a weight that caught his attention.
He turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What’s that?”
She smiled, but her tone was serious. “It’s not just human embryos we brought. The mission included animal embryos too—chickens, specifically. Frozen, like the human ones, stored in the cryo-unit. The plan was to incubate them once we’d established enough plant life to sustain them. Chickens are hardy, efficient, and a reliable protein source. But we need to be ready—greenhouses for feed crops, a coop for housing, and strict protocols to ensure they don’t disrupt the planet’s ecosystem.”
Cooper’s eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. “Chickens? You’re telling me we’re gonna be space farmers, raising a flock? That’s… awesome.”
TARS couldn’t resist. “Coop’s gonna have his own coop. Poetic, don’t you think? Should we name the first chicken ‘Cooper’ in your honor?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “TARS, you’re pushing it. But seriously, Amelia, this is big. Chickens mean eggs, meat, maybe even feathers for insulation. Let’s get to work.”
Amelia nodded, her scientist’s caution tempering her excitement, her hands gesturing as she laid out the challenges. “We need to be careful, though. These chickens can’t become an invasive species or contaminate the environment. We don’t fully understand this planet’s ecosystem yet—its microbial life, its nutrient cycles. We’ll need to isolate their coop, control their waste, and monitor their impact on the soil and water. The last thing we want is to destabilize this place before we’ve even started.”
“Agreed,” Cooper said. “So, what’s the plan? More planting, greenhouses, a coop—where do we start?”
She pulled up a data pad, her fingers dancing across the screen as she sketched out a timeline, her scientist’s precision in full force. “First, we expand the crop fields. We’ve got seeds for maize, soybeans, and oats—high-yield crops that can feed both us and the chickens. We’ll need at least two greenhouses to protect them from the planet’s weather swings—those storms can hit hard. CASE, can you calculate the material costs and printer runtime?”
“Processing,” CASE said, his lights flickering. “Two greenhouses, each 50 square meters, will require 1.2 tons of polymer and 0.8 tons of metal. Printer runtime: 72 hours per unit, assuming no interruptions. We can source 60% of the materials from current stocks, but the remainder will require drilling.”
“Alright,” Cooper said, leaning forward. “While CASE works on the drilling gear, we start planting. Amelia, you and I can prep the soil outside—use the cave’s nutrient data to boost fertility. TARS, you’re on coop design. Something sturdy, sealed, with a waste recycling system.”
“Coop for the Coop,” TARS said, his lights blinking mischievously. “I’ll make it a masterpiece. Maybe add a little disco ball for the chickens—keep ‘em entertained. Happy chickens, happy eggs, right?”
Amelia laughed, shaking her head. “No disco balls, TARS. But a recycling system’s a must. We’ll need to compost their waste for fertilizer, keep the cycle closed.”
“Got it,” Cooper said, his grin infectious. “We’re building a farm, folks. Let’s make it happen.”
They spent the morning planning, dividing tasks with a sense of shared purpose. Amelia and Cooper headed to the outdoor plot, where the first green shoots of wheat and beans were already breaking through the soil. They worked side by side, mixing in nutrient supplements derived from the cave’s minerals, their hands brushing occasionally as they passed tools. The rhythm of the work was soothing, a shared purpose that deepened their connection.
That afternoon, they returned to the lab to finalize the greenhouse designs. CASE reported progress on the drilling modifications, while TARS presented a surprisingly practical coop schematic—complete with a filtration system and modular panels for easy expansion. “Not bad, TARS,” Cooper said, impressed. “You might just earn that 75% humor setting back.”
“Don’t tempt me,” TARS replied, his lights flickering with mock indignation.
Later that evening, Amelia and Cooper sat together in the common area and shared a simple meal—spinach salad and leftover stew. The conversation turned to the future, to the humans on Cooper Station and the embryos developing in the lab.
Amelia set her plate aside, her expression growing thoughtful as she looked out the window. “Cooper,” she began, her voice soft but heavy with emotion, “do you ever think about what it means that we’re… us? The last human beings who remember Earth when it was normal, before the blight, before the dust? It’s terrifying, isn’t it?”
He turned to her, his brow furrowing as he sensed the weight of her words. “Terrifying how?”
She took a deep breath, her hands clasping together as she searched for the right words. “The people on Cooper Station, the kids we’re raising from the embryos… they’ll never know Earth like we did. The smell of rain, the sound of crickets, the way the sun felt on a summer day. To them, it’ll be stories, data in a database. I wonder if they’ll ever feel a connection to that planet, or if they’ll be… different from us. Not just in experience, but in who they are.”
Cooper leaned forward, his hand resting on hers, his touch grounding her. “That’s a hell of a question,” he said, his voice steady but thoughtful. “I’ve thought about it too, with Murph. When I saw her on the station, she was old, surrounded by kids who’d never seen a cornfield, never felt dirt under their nails. They were human, sure, but… shaped by a different world. It’s like they were already a new kind of people.”
She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Exactly. And these embryos… we’re their parents, in a way, but we’re also strangers to the world they’ll grow up in. This planet, with its glowing caves and long nights—it’s their home, not Earth. What if they don’t care about where we came from? What if they don’t understand why we fought so hard to save it?”
Cooper squeezed her hand, his gaze unwavering. “They might not understand it the way we do, but that’s okay. We’re not just passing on memories, Amelia—we’re passing on hope. The fight, the love, the stubbornness that got us here. Those kids’ll have their own stories, their own connection to this place. And we’ll be there to guide them, to tell them about Earth, about Murph, about your dad, about Wolf. They’ll carry it forward, even if it’s different.”
She smiled through her tears, his words easing the ache in her chest. “You always know what to say, don’t you? Make it sound so simple.”
“Not simple,” he said, his grin soft but earnest. “Just true. We’re building something here, not just for them, but for us too. A legacy. And we’re doing it together.”
Amelia leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, the warmth of his presence anchoring her. “Together,” she murmured, her voice steady with conviction. “I’m glad it’s you, Cooper. Out of all the universe, it’s you.”
He kissed the top of her head, his arm wrapping around her. “Right back at you, Amelia. Always.”
They sat there in silence, the stars outside their window a silent witness to their shared dreams and fears. The weight of their responsibility—to the unborn babies, to Cooper Station, to the future—felt lighter in that moment, shared between them. They were partners, not just in the mission, but in life, and that was enough to face whatever lay ahead.
As the night deepened, they retreated to their sleep module, their hands still entwined. They lay together, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her back. The hum of the base faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of their breathing, a quiet promise of tomorrow.
Chapter Text
Weeks had passed on Edmund's planet, each day blurring into the next with the rhythm of hard work and quiet hope. The greenhouse stood proud now, the storage unit—a sturdy box of recycled metal and polymer— held their growing stockpile of supplies. And the chicken coop—affectionately dubbed “Coop’s Coop” by TARS—was a masterpiece of function, complete with a waste recycler and a climate-controlled interior. The first batch of chicks had hatched that morning, their soft cheeps echoed through the base like a promise of life.
Cooper and Amelia stood side by side in the coop, watching the chicks stumble over each other in their heated enclosure.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he grinned. “Look at those little guys go. It’s like watching the future hatch right in front of us. Not just plans or numbers—actual, honest-to-God life.”
Amelia nodded, her smile bright but tempered by her scientist’s caution. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of awe and pride. “It’s humbling, isn’t it? These are the first animals born on this planet. The first of many, if we play our cards right.” She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “We’ll need to keep a close eye on them, though. Their waste could throw off the soil’s microbial balance if we’re not careful. CASE is running tests, but we should—”
“Hey,” Cooper cut in gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get to it. But right now, let’s just take a second to enjoy this. We earned it.”
Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. “You’re right,” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s just… there’s so much riding on this. The babies, the crop yields, the drilling surveys—we’re juggling a lot.”
“Which is why,” he said, his voice taking on that familiar, easy charm, “I’m thinking we take a day off. One whole day, no work, no checklists. Just us, having some actual fun.”
She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning skeptical. “A day off? Cooper, are you serious? There’s soil samples to analyze, the greenhouse irrigation needs tweaking, and the chicks need—”
“Amelia,” he said, his tone firm but warm, his hand sliding down to catch hers. “We’ve been at this nonstop for weeks. We’re not robots—well, not like CASE and TARS, anyway. We deserve a break. A day to just… be. Laugh, relax, maybe pretend we’re not the only two humans on a whole damn planet.”
She hesitated, her fingers tightening around his as she considered it. The idea felt yielding, almost reckless, but the way he looked at her—those steady blue eyes, full of warmth and conviction—made her heart skip. “Alright,” she said finally. “But let me check on the babies in the lab first. I need to make sure they're okay before I can relax.”
He squeezed her hand, his grin widening. “Deal. You and CASE do your thing. I’ll get everything ready. Don’t take too long, honey.”
Amelia rolled her eyes at the nickname but couldn’t hide her smile as she headed for the lab, CASE’s treads humming as he followed. “Keep an eye on him, TARS,” she called over her shoulder. “Make sure he doesn’t start a party without me.”
“No promises,” Cooper shot back, his chuckle echoing down the hall.
As soon as she was out of sight, Cooper headed to the kitchen module, his mind already spinning with ideas. A day off meant something special—not just sitting around, but making memories. He rummaged through their food stores, pulling out a stash of potatoes they’d harvested from the first test crops. “Chips,” he muttered to himself, slicing them thin with a knife. “Nothing says relaxation like homemade potato chips.” He set the plate on the table, along with two glasses of filtered water, the closest they had to a “fancy” drink out here. Then he raised his voice, a grin tugging at his lips. “TARS! Get your boxy self in here.”
The robot rolled in, his lights blinking suspiciously. “What’s this? You planning a picnic or just trying to bribe me into doing your chores?”
“Neither,” Cooper said, holding up the plate. “I need you to play some movies for us tonight. Amelia and I are taking a day off, and I want to make it special. You’ve got that big screen of yours—perfect for a movie night. C’mon, help a guy out.”
TARS’s lights flickered in a dramatic pause, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Movies? You think I’m a walking theater now? What’s next, popcorn and a soda fountain? My dignity’s at 40% just hearing this.”
“Come on, TARS,” Cooper said, popping a chip in his mouth, his grin widening. “You’re telling me you don’t want to flex that display of yours? Show off a little? I bet you’ve got some classics in there—something to make Amelia smile."
TARS’s lights blinked in a pattern that felt suspiciously like an eye-roll. "Fine, cowboy. But only because I’m a sucker for a good love story. I’ve got When Harry Met Sally and Pretty Woman in the archives. Classics, like you said. But if you two start getting all lovey-dovey in front of me, I’m cranking the humor to 90% and narrating your mushy moments.”
“Deal,” Cooper said, clapping his hands together.
By the time Amelia returned from the lab, the common area was as close to cozy as Cooper could manage. The lights were dimmed and TARS had positioned himself against the wall, his screen glowing faintly as he prepped the first movie. Amelia paused in the doorway, her brow arching as she took in the setup. “Well, look at you, Mr. Romantic. What’s all this?”
He grinned, spreading his arms like a showman. “Welcome to date night, Brand. Chips, water, and TARS’s finest cinematic offerings. Take a load off—we’re officially off duty.”
Amelia laughed and settled onto the couch beside him. “You’re ridiculous. But I’m not complaining.” She grabbed a handful of chips, crunching thoughtfully. “The babies are stable, by the way. CASE says everything’s on track, so I guess I’m… free to relax.” She said the word like it was foreign, her tone half-teasing, half-uncertain.
“Damn right we are,” Cooper said, leaning back and draping an arm around her shoulders. “TARS, hit it.”
TARS’s screen flickered to life, the opening credits of When Harry Met Sally rolling across it. “Starting with this one,” TARS announced. “If you two start debating whether men and women can just be friends, I’m launching myself into orbit.”
Amelia snorted, nestling closer to Cooper. “Keep dreaming. Just play the movie.”
They watched, laughing at the banter, groaning at the awkward moments, and passing the chip bowl back and forth. The movie’s warmth, its messy, human take on love, felt like a little piece of Earth brought to their alien home.
“God, they’re so stubborn,” Amelia said as Harry fumbled through another argument with Sally. “Why can’t they just admit they like each other?”
Cooper chuckled, his breath warm against her hair. “Sounds familiar. Took you long enough to warm up to me, Brand.”
She elbowed him lightly, her eyes sparkling. “Excuse me? You were the one playing hard-to-get, cowboy. All that ‘I’m just a pilot’ nonsense.”
“Hey, I’m a simple man,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Takes a scientist to complicate things.”
TARS’s lights blinked. “You two are worse than the movie. Want me to skip to the part where they kiss and shut up?”
“Quiet, TARS,” she said, tossing a chip at his chassis. It bounced off harmlessly, and his lights flashed in mock indignation.
“Assaulting an innocent robot,” TARS drawled. “My dignity’s down to 35%. Keep it up, and I’m switching to horror flicks—something with aliens to make you feel at home.”
They laughed and settled back into the movie. By the time Pretty Woman rolled around, the chip bowl was nearly empty, and Amelia was curled against Cooper’s side, her head resting on his shoulder. The room felt softer, warmer, like a bubble shielding them from the vast, unknown planet outside.
When the movie ended, TARS’s lights blinked expectantly. “Alright, lovebirds, you want another one, or are we done with the mushy stuff?”
Cooper looked at Amelia, a spark of an idea lighting his eyes. “One more thing before we call it. How ‘bout a dance, Amelia?”
Her eyes widened, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “A dance? Cooper, I can’t—I never learned how. I’m a scientist, not a… twirler.”
He laughed, standing and offering his hand, his grin all easy confidence. “Don’t worry about it. I’m no pro, but I can lead. C’mon, trust me.”
She hesitated, then took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “If I step on your toes, it’s your fault,” she warned, but her smile was bright, her nerves giving way to curiosity.
“TARS, play something with a beat,” Cooper called. “Something jazzy, up-tempo.”
TARS’s lights flickered in mock exasperation. “Now I’m a DJ? Fine—here’s some Ella Fitzgerald. Don’t trip over each other.”
The upbeat swing of “It Don’t Mean a Thing” filled the room and Cooper pulled Amelia close, guiding her with a gentle hand on her waist. “Just follow me,” he said, his voice warm. “Move with the music, not your brain.”
She laughed, stumbling at first but finding the rhythm as he spun her gently, their movements clumsy but joyful. “You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?” She teased, her eyes sparkling.
“Guilty,” he admitted, twirling her under his arm. “But you’re doing great, darlin’.”
TARS, ever the opportunist, switched the music to something slower—“Stand by Me.” The soulful melody wrapped around them, and Cooper pulled her closer, their steps slowing to a gentle sway. Amelia’s arms slid around his neck, her earlier self-consciousness gone. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice soft against his chest. “This I can do.”
They moved together, the world narrowing to just them—the warmth of her breath, the steady beat of his heart. His hand rested on her lower back, hers on his shoulder, their bodies finding a rhythm as natural as breathing. As the song’s final notes lingered, Cooper tilted her chin up, his eyes searching hers. “Told you you could dance.”
She smiled. “Told you I’d step on your toes. Twice, if I counted right.”
He chuckled, then leaned in, kissing her gently.
When they pulled back she looked up at him, her eyes soft, vulnerable. “This… this feels like something we’d do on Earth. Like we’re not light-years away, starting over from nothing.”
Cooper’s gaze held hers, his voice low and earnest. “That’s the point, Amelia. We’re not just surviving out here. We’re living. And I want every moment of it with you.”
TARS’s lights blinked, his voice cutting through the moment with a dry edge. “Alright, you two, get a room before my circuits overheat. I’m not built for this level of sentimentality.”
She laughed, pulling back just enough to shoot the robot a mock glare. “You’re impossible, TARS. But don’t stop the music yet. One more song.”
“Make up your mind,” he grumbled, but his tone was warm and he played another slow track, a soft jazz number that kept the mood gentle. “You owe me. I’m keeping score.”
Cooper grinned, pulling her close again. “Thanks for this, TARS. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re our pain in the ass.”
“Flattery won’t raise my dignity,” TARS shot back, but his lights blinked in a pattern that felt like a smile.
They chuckled but stayed like that, dancing under the stars visible through the module’s window, For one perfect day, they weren’t just building a colony—they were building a home, together, and that was enough.
Chapter Text
Two months had passed since the first chicks hatched and life on Edmund’s planet had settled into a kind of organized chaos.
Cooper and TARS had spent the morning putting the final touches on the first set of living quarters, a sleek, boxy structure spat out by the 3D printer they’d hauled from the Endurance. It wasn’t much to look at—smooth polymer walls, a few narrow windows to let in the pale light of the planet’s star—but it was sturdy, warm, and theirs. Cooper wiped sweat from his brow as he stepped back to admire their work. “Not bad, TARS,” he said, slapping the robot’s frame. “Our first real house. Beats sleeping in the Endurance, huh?”
TARS’s lights blinked in a lazy pattern, his voice dripping with his usual sarcasm. “Oh, sure, it’s a palace. I’ll just hang my hat and call it home. Wait—where’s my room, cowboy? Or am I still relegated to the broom closet?”
Cooper chuckled, tossing a rag at the robot. “Keep complainin’, and I’ll make you bunk with the chickens. Come on, let’s clean up. I’m starving.”
Before TARS could fire back, a crackle came through Cooper’s comms. Amelia’s voice, bright but urgent, cut through the static. “Coop, TARS, get over to the coop. You’re gonna want to see this.”
They trekked across the compound. The coop loomed ahead. Inside, Amelia stood by the nesting boxes. “Look,” she said, pointing to a clutch of six pale, speckled eggs nestled in the straw. “They did it. Our girls laid their first eggs. Can you believe it?”
His face split into a grin. “Wow. Look at that—our chickens are pullin’ their weight already.” He crouched beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the eggs. “Nice work, ladies,” he said to the nearest hen, who clucked and fluffed her feathers.
TARS rolled closer. “Six eggs? That’s it? These birds need to step up their game if they’re gonna feed a colony. I’m docking their performance review to 62% and that’s generous.”
Amelia laughed. “Oh, hush, TARS. This is huge. These are the first eggs laid on this planet. Ever. That’s not just breakfast—it’s history.”
Cooper straightened, his grin turning mischievous. “Speakin’ of breakfast, what do you say we cook these up? Scrambled eggs, fresh off the alien farm. No powdered crap, just the real deal.”
“You sure? I mean, we should probably test them first, make sure they’re safe—”
“Amelia,” he cut in, his voice gentle but firm. “We’ve tested the grain, the water, the chickens’ vitals—hell, we’ve tested the damn air in here. These eggs are as safe as it gets. Let’s eat like normal people for once."
She bit her lip, then nodded, a smile breaking through. “Alright, fine."
Amelia scooped up the eggs, cradling them carefully in a cloth as they headed to the kitchen module. Cooper cracked them into a bowl, whisking them with a practiced hand while Amelia watched, leaning against the counter.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said, her voice soft with wonder. “It’s been… God, years since I had fresh eggs. I wonder how they’ll taste.”
“Like victory,” Cooper said, pouring the eggs into a sizzling pan. “With a side of alien charm.”
TARS, stationed by the table, blinked his lights. “Victory? More like a culinary gamble. If you two start clucking after this, don’t come crying to me.”
She snorted, tossing a dish towel at him. “Keep it up, TARS, and I’ll reprogram you to sing lullabies to the chickens."
The eggs cooked fast, filling the air with a rich, buttery smell that made Cooper’s mouth water. He slid the golden scramble onto two plates, passing one to Amelia. “Bon appétit, Dr. Brand.”
She took a hesistant bite, her eyes closing as she savored it. “Oh my God,” she mumbled, a grin spreading across her face. “They’re perfect. Better than I remember. Coop, you’re officially promoted to chef.”
Cooper took a bite, his own grin matching hers. “Hot damn, that’s good. Tastes like home. Like sittin’ at my mom’s table on a Sunday morning.” He paused, his voice softening. “Murph would’ve loved this.”
Amelia reached across the table, squeezing his hand. “She would’ve. And she’d be proud of you, Coop. Of us. We’re making it work out here.”
They ate in comfortable silence. TARS, for once, kept his quips to a minimum, his lights blinking in a way that almost felt approving.
Later that day, Amelia headed to the lab to check on the babies—ten tiny lives growing in their incubators, the first humans who’d be born on this planet in just a month. She ran her scans with CASE, but as she worked, a wave of nausea hit her, sharp and sudden. She gripped the edge of the counter, breathing hard, then stumbled to the sink just in time to vomit.
CASE’s treads hummed as he rolled closer, his voice calm but analytical. “Dr. Brand, your vitals indicate distress. Should I alert Cooper?”
“No,” she said quickly, wiping her mouth with a shaky hand. “It’s probably just the eggs. My stomach’s not used to fresh food after all that processed stuff. I’ll be fine.”
CASE’s sensors blinked. “Probability of food intolerance is 42%. I recommend rest and hydration. Shall I monitor you?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said, managing a weak smile. “Just keep it between us, okay? No need to worry Coop.”
But by the next morning, the nausea hadn’t let up. Amelia woke up feeling like the planet’s gravity had doubled, her limbs heavy and her stomach churning. She barely made it to the bathroom before she was sick again. She sank onto her bed in the new living quarters. Her head throbbed, and a quiet fear gnawed at her—something wasn’t right.
Cooper found her there, pale and curled up under a thin blanket. His easy grin vanished the moment he saw her, replaced by a tight, worried frown. “Amelia? Jesus, you look like hell. What’s going on?” He knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek.
“It’s nothing,” she said, her voice weaker than she meant it to be. “Just… maybe the eggs didn’t sit right. I’ll be okay, Coop. Just need to rest.”
He shook his head. “This ain’t nothing, Amelia. You’re shakin’, and you look like you haven’t slept in a week. We need to figure this out.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, his hand tightening around hers. “I can’t lose you. Not you, too…” He trailed off, his eyes glistening, and she knew he was thinking of Murph, of Earth, of everyone he’d left behind.
Her heart ached at the fear in his voice. She forced herself to sit up, ignoring the dizziness, and cupped his face with both hands. “Hey, look at me. I’m right here, Coop. I’m not going anywhere. It’s probably just my body adjusting—fresh food’s a shock after years of that powdered crap. Give me a day, and I’ll be back to bossing you around.”
He nodded, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “Alright. But I’m staying close. You need anything—water, food, a bad joke to cheer you up—you tell me.”
She managed a small laugh, though it felt forced. “Deal. But maybe hold off on the jokes. Your last one was terrible.”
Cooper forced a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Low blow, Brand.” He kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment before heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
As soon as he was out of sight, Amelia’s smile faded. She called CASE, her voice low. “CASE, get in here. Please.”
The robot rolled in, his sensors glowing faintly. “Dr. Brand, your vitals remain unstable. What do you require?”
She took a shaky breath, her fingers twisting in the blanket...
The next day, Amelia felt steady enough to move around, though her stomach still churned faintly. She found Cooper in the living quarters, sitting in a chair by one of the narrow windows, staring out at the alien horizon. His hands were clasped tightly, like he was holding himself together, and the sight made her chest tighten.
He looked up when she entered, his eyes widening with a mix of relief and surprise. “Amelia? You’re up. You okay?” He stood, crossing the room in two quick strides, his hands hovering like he wasn’t sure whether to hug her or check her pulse.
“I’m… better.” She took a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might echo in the quiet room. “Coop, I need to tell you something.”
“What is it? You’re scarin’ me, Amelia.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and his hands clenched at his sides.
She reached for his hand, her fingers shaking slightly as they curled around his. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. I’m pregnant.”
The words hit like a shockwave and for a moment, Cooper just stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with disbelief. The silence stretched until he finally exhaled— which seemed to release all the tension in his body. Tears welled in his eyes, and he pulled her into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around her like he was afraid she’d slip away. “Oh my God,” he mumbled, his voice thick as he pressed his lips to her hair. “You’re… we’re gonna have a kid?”
She nodded against his chest, relief flooding her as she felt his warmth. “Yeah. CASE confirmed it this morning. I didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel, with the babies coming next month, and the colony, and… everything.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands cupping her face. “Why the hell would you be scared to tell me? Amelia, this is…” He laughed, tears spilling down his cheeks. “This is incredible. I love you. I love you so damn much, and I want this with you. I want everything with you.”
Her own eyes stung and she laughed. “I was just… I know you’ve lost Murph and Tom, and we’ve got ten babies coming next month, and this place is barely holding together. I didn’t know if you’d want this too.”
Cooper kissed her hand. “Amelia, listen to me. I don’t ever want you to feel scared to tell me something. You’re my home, my everything. I need you more than anything in this damn universe, and now we’re gonna have a kid? That’s… that’s more than I ever thought I’d get.” He paused, his grin turning playful. “Besides, I’m already a pro at this dad thing. I’ll teach you the ropes—diapers, tantrums, the whole deal.”
She swatted his chest, her smile bright despite the tears. “Oh, please. I’m a scientist—I’ll have this kid on a feeding schedule with color-coded charts before they’re born.”
TARS rolled in, his lights blinking curiously. “What’s all this mushy stuff? My sensors are picking up excessive human emotion in here. Somebody wanna clue me in before I start playing sad violin music?”
Cooper grinned, wiping his eyes. “TARS, you’re gonna be an uncle. Amelia’s pregnant.”
“Oh, great, now I’ve gotta babysit another tiny human? My dignity’s officially at 10%. You two are gonna owe me big time.”
Amelia laughed, leaning into Cooper’s side. “You’ll love it, TARS. You can teach the kid your terrible jokes. Maybe they’ll laugh at them.”
“Terrible?” TARS drawled, his lights blinking indignantly. “My jokes are high art. That kid’s gonna be my biggest fan by age three. Just wait.”
Cooper pulled Amelia closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “I love you,” he said softly.
She looked up at him, her eyes soft and full of light. “I love you too, Coop.”
The robots lights blinked in mock disgust. “Alright, that’s it. I’m outta here before you two start writing love poems. Somebody’s gotta keep this colony running while you’re busy makin’ googly eyes.” He rolled toward the door. “Dignity at 5%. I’m gonna need therapy after this.”
Amelia laughed, resting her head against Cooper’s chest as TARS’s treads faded down the hall.
Chapter Text
A week had passed since Amelia's pregnancy reveal and the rhythm of life on Edmund’s planet was starting to feel less like survival and more like living. The compound hummed with the quiet efficiency of their makeshift systems—solar panels soaking up the pale starlight, the 3D printer churning out spare parts, the chickens clucking contentedly in their coop. But there was a tension in the air, too, a countdown to the moment when the incubators would deliver ten new humans and their quiet little world would change forever.
Cooper sat in the research module’s, his eyes fixed on a flickering screen. He was rewatching drone footage from their trip to the cave where they’d first encountered the shell-like creatures, that clung to the rocks like living jewels. The footage showed their pulsing movements, the way their shells caught the light in shimmering waves and Cooper leaned forward, one hand propping up his chin as he muttered notes to himself about their patterns.
Amelia pushed open the door, a faint smile playing on her lips as she caught sight of him. Her nausea had eased enough for her to move with a bit more confidence, though she still kept a hand near her stomach. “Hey, you,” she called softly as she leaned against the doorway. "Lost in your cave adventures again? You’re gonna burn a hole through that screen."
He looked up, his face breaking into that familiar grin that never failed to make her heart skip. “Can’t help it, darlin’,” he said, tapping the screen to pause on a close-up of a creature, its shell glinting like a polished gem. “Look at these little guys. Movin’ like they’ve got a purpose. I’m tellin’ ya, there’s more out there—maybe a whole network of caves full of ‘em. You sayin’ you’re not curious?”
She laughed, crossing the room to lean against the workbench, her shoulder brushing his as she settled beside him. “Oh, I’m curious,” she admitted, her eyes flicking to the screen. “But I’m also practical. We’ve got ten babies dropping in a few weeks, plus…” She patted her stomach lightly, her smile softening into something tender. “This one. I’m not sure how much cave-diving we’ll be doing once the chaos hits.”
Cooper chuckled, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, fair point. These are our last days of peace and quiet, huh? Just you, me, CASE, TARS’s bad attitude and the chickens cluckin’ away. Feels like we’re playin’ house before the real work kicks in.”
She nodded, her gaze drifting to the window, where the alien landscape stretched out in a surreal palette of lavender and gold. “It’s so quiet out here,” she said, her voice almost wistful. “I mean, I love it—the stillness, the way you can hear your own thoughts. But it’s… almost too quiet sometimes. Like the calm before a storm.”
He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing her knuckles. “You gonna miss it? The quiet life? No diapers, no midnight feedings, just us bickerin’ with TARS and eatin’ scrambled eggs like we’re livin’ large?”
She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Maybe a little. Don’t get me wrong—I’m ready for what’s coming. Our kid, the incubator babies… it’s why we’re here, why we fought so hard to get here. But there’s something nice about this.” Her smile turned mischievous and she nudged his shoulder. “Plus, I like having you all to myself. Once those kids arrive, I’m gonna have to fight for your attention.”
“Oh, please,” he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a playful drawl as his grin widened. “You’ll always have my attention, Dr. Brand. Those kids’ll have to get in line.” He paused, his expression softening into something more serious, his blue eyes searching hers. “But yeah, it’s been nice. Just us, figurin’ out this crazy planet together.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, their hands still entwined. Amelia studied him, her scientist’s mind picking up on the restless energy in the way his fingers tapped against the workbench, the way his eyes kept flicking back to the drone footage. “You’re restless, though, aren’t you?” she said, her voice gentle but direct. “I can feel it. You’re itching to get out there, explore more of this place.”
Cooper’s grin faded and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking caught. “That obvious, huh?” He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Look, I’m happy here, Amelia. You know that. I don’t need to go runnin’ off, ‘specially with you not feelin’ 100%. We’ve got a lot to do before those babies—”
“Coop,” she interrupted with a kind tone, “Don’t do that. I know you. You’ve got that look—the one you had when you were flying us through the wormhole. You’re dying to see what’s out there, and I’m not mad about it. I get it." She leaned closer, her eyes locking onto his. “Once those babies are here, exploration’s gonna be the last thing on our minds. We’ll be lucky to get five minutes to ourselves, let alone go on a field trip. If you want to go, you should. Now’s the time.”
He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. “You sure? I don’t wanna leave you here if you’re not feelin’ up to it."
“Coop,” she said again, her voice softer now. She reached out, cupping his cheek, her thumb brushing over the stubble there. “I’m fine. A little queasy, but I’m not made of glass. CASE is here, and I’ve got the lab to keep me busy. But,” she added, pointing a finger at him, “you’re not going alone. Take TARS and the drone. I want CASE and me to have eyes on you the whole time. Deal?”
His face broke into a grin, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Deal. I love you, you know that? You’re the best damn partner I could ask for.”
“I know,” she smiled. “Now go round up your robot sidekick before I change my mind.”
Cooper laughed, pulling back and clapping his hands together, the spark of adventure already lighting up his face. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road. TARS! CASE! Get your shiny butts in here!”
The robots rolled in moments later and Cooper stood, his grin widening as he gestured toward the door. “We’re goin’ explorin’, boys. Southwest, maybe eight or ten klicks out. TARS, you’re with me. CASE, you’re stayin’ here with Amelia, keepin’ the drone feed live so she can watch us. Got it?"
Amelia crossed her arms, fixing TARS with a mock-stern look. “You keep him safe, TARS. I mean it. And Coop, no climbing cliffs, no poking alien critters, no wandering into caves without a plan. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cooper said, winking at her. “TARS, get the rover prepped—drone, sample kits, the works. We roll out at first light.”
As the robots rolled off to prepare, Amelia grabbed Cooper’s arm, her voice softening. “Coop, I'm serious—be careful. We don’t know what’s out there. I need you back in one piece, okay?”
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it, Amelia. Promise. You just take care of yourself and that little one, alright?”
She nodded, her eyes bright with trust and a touch of worry. “Go find something amazing, darling.”
The next morning,
Cooper and TARS set out in the rover, while the drone hummed overhead, its camera feeding live footage back to the base, where Amelia sat in the research module, with a mug of herbal tea in her hand. Her eyes were glued to the screen, tracking Cooper’s every move, while CASE stood nearby, his sensors quietly monitoring her heart rate and the drone’s signal.
“So, what’s the big plan, cowboy? We just wanderin’ till we trip over somethin’ shiny, or you got a destination in mind?” TARS asked, his tone dry as ever.
Cooper squinted at the horizon, his hands steady on the rover’s controls. “Call it a gut feelin’. That cave we found had those shell creatures, water, signs of life. I’m bettin’ there’s more out here—maybe a whole ecosystem waitin’ to be found. Plus, I need to burn off some energy before I’m stuck changin’ diapers.”
A few kilometers out, they spotted more of the crystalline structures—jagged, translucent formations jutting from the ground like frozen flames, catching bristling in the starlight. Cooper slowed the rover, whistling low. “Look at that, slick. Like a damn art installation. You gettin’ this on the sensors?”
“Scanning,” TARS said, his arm extending to take readings. “High silica content, some trace metals. Non-organic, but they’re emitting a low-frequency hum. Weird, but not dangerous.”
Cooper tapped his comms, his voice full of excitement. “Amelia, you seein’ these? Same as the ones we found before, but bigger. Like they’re growin’ right outta the ground.”
Her voice crackled through. “Yeah. They’re gorgeous. That hum… maybe it’s a resonance from the planet’s magnetic field? Grab a sample, but don’t break anything—those structures might be more fragile than they look.”
“Roger that,” he said, hopping out of the rover with a sample kit in hand. He chipped off a small piece of crystal, careful not to disturb the larger structure, and tucked it into a sealed container. “This one’s for you, honey. Gonna look real nice on your lab desk.”
She laughed, the sound warm even through the comms. “You’re sweet, but I’d rather have data than decor. Keep going—I want to see what else is out there.”
Cooper and TARS drove on, trading light banter as the terrain shifted around them. The plains gave way to rolling hills, then dropped abruptly into a deep, winding canyon about eight kilometers from the base. Its jagged walls were streaked with veins of crystalline rock that shimmered like mirrors in the sunlight, and Cooper stopped the rover dead, his breath catching in his throat. At the canyon’s base, surrounded by massive boulders pocked with tiny holes, was a spring of crystal-clear water, its surface so still it looked like a pane of glass.
“Goddamn,” Cooper whispered, his voice thick with awe. He tapped his comms, his eyes never leaving the scene. “Amelia, you seein’ this, or am I hallucinatin’?”
Her laughter crackled through, tinged with wonder. “I’m seeing it, Coop! It’s… incredible. That water looks like something out of a fairytale. Can you get closer? I want a better look at those boulders, too—they look like they’re teeming with life.”
“You got it, doc,” he said, already picking his way down a narrow path carved into the canyon wall, TARS rolling cautiously behind. At the spring’s edge, Cooper knelt, his gloved hand skimming the water’s surface. It was cool, almost icy, and up close, he could see tiny, translucent creatures darting through it, their bodies pulsing with faint light like fireflies. The surrounding boulders were alive, too, crawling with the same shell-like critters they’d seen in the cave, their segmented bodies shimmering in sync with the crystals, their movements almost choreographed.
“TARS, check this out,” Cooper said, pointing to the rock creatures. “They’re like the ones from the cave, but… bigger, maybe? This place is a goldmine.”
The robot scanned the area. “TARSium you mean. Anyway, filter-feeders, non-hostile. My scans say they’re related to the cave organisms—same basic structure, different adaptations. But let’s not start pettin’ ‘em, cowboy. You’re not exactly a zoologist.”
Cooper chuckled, shaking his head. “Noted. Darlin', you hearin’ this? These critters are cousins to the cave ones. You want samples?”
“Absolutely,” she replied, her voice buzzing with excitement. “Grab some of the water and a few of those rock organisms. I need to compare them to the other samples."
“Alright, alright, alright,” Cooper replied brightly, pulling vials from his kit and carefully collecting water and a few of the tiny critters. As he worked, his eyes caught on something else—a cluster of low, bushy plants growing along the canyon’s edge, their branches heavy with round, golden fruits that glowed faintly in the sunlight.
“Whoa, hold up,” he said, standing and moving closer, his voice tinged with wonder. “Look at these. They’re like… alien oranges or somethin’.”
Her laugh was soft, almost fearful. “They’re beautiful, Coop. But don’t you dare eat one. Not until we test them.”
“Scout’s honor,” he said, though his grin suggested he was tempted. He reached out, his gloved fingers brushing the smooth skin of a fruit, when a low, rumbling sound stopped him cold. The ground vibrated faintly, and from the shadows of the cliffs at the canyon’s base, a group of creatures lumbered into view. They were like small hippos crossed with manatees, with broad, leathery bodies, stubby legs, and wide, soulful eyes that gleamed with curiosity. Their skin was a mottled gray-green, dappled with patches of moss-like growths—eerily similar to the plant Amelia had once found—and they moved with a slow, deliberate grace as they shuffled toward the plants, snuffling at the fallen fruits on the ground.
Cooper crouched low, his heart pounding with a mix of awe and caution. “Wow...They’re like hippos got a makeover from a sci-fi flick.”
Her voice was hushed, like she was afraid to spook them through the comms. “They’re amazing, Coop. Look at how they’re grazing… this is a whole ecosystem—plants, fruits, herbivores. Can you get closer? Just don’t scare them.”
He nodded, creeping forward with TARS rolling cautiously behind. The creatures didn’t seem to notice at first, their eyes flicking toward him with mild curiosity as they munched on the fruits. But when Cooper got within a few meters, one let out a deep, honking bellow that echoed off the canyon walls and the group shuffled toward a cluster of holes at the cliffs’ base, vanishing into the rock with surprising speed.
“Well, damn,” Cooper said, standing and brushing off his knees. “Guess we’re not invitin’ ‘em to dinner.” He picked a few of the fruits and added them to his kit alongside the water and rock samples. “Alright, TARS, let’s head back. Amelia, we’re bringin’ you a whole science fair’s worth of goodies.”
“Best news I’ve heard all day,” she said, her voice bright with anticipation. “Hurry back, you two. I’m dying to see this stuff up close.”
Back at the base, Cooper and Amelia practically ran to the lab, their arms full of samples. The fruits stole the show, their golden skins shimmering under the lab’s lights like tiny suns. Amelia set one on the counter, her eyes wide as she ran a scanner over it.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the fruit’s surface. “It’s reacting to the light—some kind of bioluminescent pigment, maybe? It’s like they’re absorbing and reflecting the starlight. We need a name for these. I’m thinking… sunfruit.”
“Sunfruit,” Cooper repeated, his grin wide as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Sounds like somethin’ you’d put in a fancy dessert. I’m picturin’ a sunfruit pie already. What’s the scan say? Can we eat ‘em?”
She frowned at the data pad, her scientist’s caution in full force. “No hazardous substances, at least not that the scanner can detect. High sugar content, some amino acids we don’t have on Earth, and… something that might be a natural preservative. But I’m not sure we should just bite into one yet, Coop. Alien biochemistry is a wildcard. We should test them first.”
He nodded, already thinking ahead. “Let’s give a couple to the chickens. Isolate ‘em from the rest, see how they handle it."
"Good call. Let’s set up a pen for two of them and monitor closely,” she agreed.
They moved to the coop, setting up a small isolation pen and tossing a couple of sunfruits to two hens— Bonnie and Clyde, as Cooper had named them, who clucked excitedly and pecked at them with joy. Hours later, the chickens were still strutting around, healthy as ever, and Bonnie even laid an egg, which Amelia promptly scanned. She ran her tests twice, her brow furrowed as she checked their vitals.
“They’re fine,” she said finally, though her voice still carried a hint of caution. “No changes in behavior, no signs of toxicity. But…”
Cooper raised an eyebrow, already reaching for a sunfruit. “But nothin’. Those chickens are livin’ their best lives, and I’m not waitin’ for a month of lab tests. I’m tryin’ one.” He paused, his expression softening as he met her eyes. “Not you, though. Not while you’re pregnant. Too risky. I’ll take one for the team.”
She bit her lip, her eyes flickering with worry, but she nodded, cutting him a small slice of the fruit. “Alright, but I’m watching you like a hawk, Coop. One bite, and if you start glowing or sprouting extra limbs, you’re in quarantine.”
He chuckled, holding the slice up to the light. The flesh was translucent, flecked with golden specks, and a bead of juice dripped onto his glove, catching the light like liquid sunlight. He popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly, his eyes closing as the flavor hit.
“Goddamn,” he said after a moment, his grin wide. “This is good. Like a peach and a cantaloupe got together and decided to make honey-flavored juice. You’re missin’ out.”
She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she smiled, relief washing over her. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, laughing as she stepped closer, her hand resting on his arm. “But you’re okay? No weird side effects?”
“Nope, fit as a fiddle,” he said, winking as he cut another slice and popped it in his mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness. “We gotta figure out how to grow these. Imagine a whole orchard of sunfruit out there.”
Her fingers traced the fruit’s shimmering skin, her expression softening. “You know… I used to love honey. Back on Earth. It was one of those little things you didn’t realize you’d miss until it was gone. When the bees went extinct…”
Cooper’s grin faded, his eyes growing distant as he set the fruit down. “Yeah. I remember. The world was already fallin’ apart—dust storms, crops dyin’—but when the bees went, it was like… the final nail. People lost it—quittin’, lootin. I’d sit up at night, holdin’ Murph, wonderin’ what the hell kind of future she’d have.”
Amelia nodded, her expression heavy with shared memory. “That’s when I knew it was over, too. The bees…they held everything together. When they were gone, it was like the Earth was screaming at us, and we’d ignored it too long.” She looked out the lab’s window, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared, Coop. Scared that our kids will make the same mistakes. That they’ll treat this planet like we did Earth. Pollute it, exploit it…”
He reached for her hand, pulling her gently into his side, his arm wrapping around her. “I worry about that too, Amelia. Human nature’s a tricky thing—greed, recklessness, it’s in us. But we’re not gonna let that happen here. Not this time.”
She leaned into him, her voice fierce despite its softness. “We have to teach them, Cooper. Teach them to respect this place, to take only what they need, to protect it. We can’t let this planet end up like Earth.”
“We won’t,” he assured. “We’ll raise ‘em right—our kid, the others. We’ll show ‘em how to live with this place, not against it. Hell, we’ve got TARS to keep ‘em in line with his snark if they step outta line.”
Amelia laughed, the sound breaking the tension like sunlight through clouds. “God help those kids if TARS is their babysitter.”
The robot, who had been silently monitoring from the corner, piped up. “I’m already programmin’ a lecture series: ‘How Not to Ruin Your Second Planet.’ Mandatory attendance.”
Cooper snorted, pulling Amelia closer. “See? We’re covered.”
Later that night, they made their way to the sleep module. Cooper kicked off his boots, flopping onto the bed with a groan and dug out his earbuds from a small box by the bedside. Amelia moved more carefully, easing herself down beside him.
“C’mere,” he murmured, opening his arms. She nestled into him, her head resting on his chest, one earbud in her ear, the other in his. He tapped a button on the small device, and the faint strains of an old Earth song filled their ears—a soft, haunting melody from a world they’d left behind. They lay there, listening to the sounds of a lost world, their breathing syncing as the music lulled them toward sleep.
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next morning, Cooper strode into the lab. Amelia was already there, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail, her eyes focused on a data pad as she checked the readouts from the incubators. The soft glow of the screens bathed her face in pale light and for a moment, Cooper just stood in the doorway, watching her work, a quiet pride swelling in his chest.
“Mornin’, darlin',” he said and crossed the room. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, while his his hand brushed her stomach gently. “How’s my favorite scientist doin’? And how’s our little explorer doin’ in there?”
Amelia’s smile widened, and she leaned into the kiss. “Better today, actually,” she said, her voice light but tired. “The nausea’s finally given me a break, thank God. And this one?” She patted her stomach gently, her eyes softening with a mix of wonder and amusement. “Kicking like they’re ready to explore the planet already.”
He grinned, his hand sliding down to rest over hers. “That’s my kid. Already plannin’ their first rover ride...How ‘bout the other ten?"
She gestured to the row of incubators behind her, where tiny forms floated in their artificial wombs, their heartbeats pulsing steadily on the screens. “They’re doing great,” she said, her tone shifting to the focused, professional cadence of Dr. Amelia Brand. “I was just checking their vitals. Pods 3 and 7 are progressing faster than the others—could be ready as early as tomorrow.”
Cooper let out a low whistle, stepping closer to peer into Pod 3. The tiny figure inside was barely visible through the soft glow of the nutrient fluid, but he could make out the faint outline of a head, tiny limbs curled in.
“Tomorrow?” he said, his voice tinged with awe. “Damn, these kids are in a hurry to see the stars.” He paused, his grin softening into something more tender as he studied the incubator. “You thought about names yet? Ten babies, ten names. Gotta make sure they sound good when we’re yellin’ ‘em across the compound to come in for dinner.”
She laughed, setting her data pad on the counter and crossing her arms. “You know, I haven’t,” she admitted, her eyes flicking to the incubators. “I’ve been so caught up in their growth rates and nutrient levels, names didn’t even cross my mind.” She stepped closer to Pod 3, her fingers brushing the cool glass as she looked at the tiny form inside. “But you’re right. They need names. Real ones." She turned to him, her eyes sparking with sudden excitement. “What do you say? Wanna name them now?”
Cooper’s grin widened and he clapped his hands together. “Hell yeah, let’s do it. You said we got five girls, five boys, right?”
“Yes,” Amelia confirmed, nodding toward Pod 3. “This one’s a boy.” She tapped the glass gently, her voice softening. “Look at him—already got a little attitude, I can tell.”
Cooper leaned in, his grin softening into something tender. He was quiet for a moment, his hand resting on the edge of the incubator as he studied the boy. “What about… Noah?” he said finally, his voice low, almost hesitant. “You know, like the ark. Guy who saved everything when the world went to hell. Feels… right, for this place. For what we’re doin’.”
Her eyes lit up, and she nodded slowly, testing the name on her tongue. “Noah. I like it. It’s strong, hopeful.” She turned to the next incubators, her expression turning playful. “Alright, Coop, nine more to go. But I’m vetoing any names like ‘Maverick’ or ‘Rusty.’ We’re not raising a biker gang on this planet.”
He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m keepin’ it classy, Dr. Brand. Let’s stick with that biblical vibe—somethin’ that ties us to Earth but looks to the future. Strong names for a new world.” He looked at the incubator next to Amelia, where a tiny girl floated, her tiny hands curled into fists. “How ‘bout Sara for this one? Means ‘princess,’ right? But she was tough, kept things together. Kinda like someone else I know.” He shot her a sidelong look, his grin teasing.
Amelia rolled her eyes, but her smile widened as she nudged his shoulder. “Flatterer,” she muttered. “Sara’s perfect, though. I love it.” She moved to the next pod, her fingers brushing the glass. “Next boy… I’m thinking David. Fighter, poet, king. He’s got potential to be a lot of things.”
Cooper nodded, moving to the next incubator. “David’s solid. For this girl… how ‘bout Chloé? I remember readin’ somethin’ about a Greek goddess of agriculture, harvest, all that. Fits a planet where we’re growin’ everything from scratch, don’t you think?”
Her gaze softened and she reached out, brushing her fingers against his arm. “Chloé,” she repeated, her voice warm. “Yeah, I love that. It’s beautiful.”
They moved through the rest, their voices blending in a quiet rhythm as they named the future of their new world: Liam for strength, Lily, for new beginnings; John for responsibility, Leah, for resilience; Daniel, for wisdom and Hannah, for hope and devotion. Each name felt like a promise, a tie to the past and a step toward the future.
When they finished, Cooper stepped back, his hands on his hips as he looked at the row of incubators, each now carrying a name that felt like a vow. “Noah, Sara, David, Chloè, Liam, Lily, John, Leah, Daniel, Hannah,” he recited, his voice low. “That’s a hell of a crew we got here, Dr. Brand.”
Amelia smiled, her eyes glistening as she leaned into him, her shoulder brushing his. “Yeah. They’re gonna do great things, Coop. I can feel it.”
He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, his chin resting lightly on her head. “They better,” he said, his tone light but laced with something deeper. “We’re not raisin’ ‘em to sit around and cause trouble.” He paused, his gaze drifting back to the incubators, his expression turning serious. “You know anything about their parents? I mean, who they came from, biologically?”
She shook her head, her eyes flicking to the data pad on the counter. “Not specifically,” she said, her voice quieter now. “The donors were anonymous—about a hundred of them, from all over the world. Scientists, doctors, engineers, the best of what was left. My father’s team screened them for genetic diversity, health, cognitive ability… all the things we’d need to rebuild a population.”
Cooper sat in the chair beside her, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “Sounds like most of the folks from the station,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and bitterness. “Your dad—he said both plans, A and B, were about savin’ the best minds, the ones who could actually rebuild. Harsh as it sounds, I think he was right.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she nodded, her gaze distant. “He was,” she said quietly. “It’s not pretty, but it’s true. The world was collapsing—dust storms, crop failures, riots. We couldn’t save everyone. My father believed the only way to preserve humanity was to prioritize the people who could rebuild it. Not the ones with the most money or power, but the ones with the most… potential.”
Cooper let out a low, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, money didn’t save humanity, did it? Science did. All those rich folks hoardin’ their bunkers, thinkin’ they could buy their way out of the dust storms… they got the same fate as everyone else.”
Amelia’s expression darkened as she sat next to him, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “You know, there was this one group—a billionaire put together a private spaceship, packed it with rich people trying to escape Earth. This was just before our mission launched. They thought they could start over somewhere, maybe Mars. The ship didn’t even make it past the asteroid belt. Exploded, whole thing gone. Faulty fuel system or something. The government buried it, of course. Didn’t want the world knowing.”
His eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “That’s crazy. But, you know… karma’s a hell of a thing."
Amelia’s lips twitched into a faint smile, breaking through her somber expression. “Exactly.” She glanced at the data pad, then at CASE, who was silently monitoring the incubators from the corner of the lab. “Alright, I’m done here for now. CASE, can you run a quick check on me and the baby? Just to be safe.”
The robot rolled forward. “Of course, Dr. Brand. Please stand still.” His arm extended, a faint blue light scanning her from head to toe. “All vitals are within normal parameters. Fetal heart rate is steady, development is on track. No anomalies detected.”
Amelia exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she shot Cooper a relieved smile. “Good news, then.”
He grinned, pulling her into a quick, warm kiss, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Damn right it’s good news. You’re doin’ great, darlin’. Both of you.” He stepped back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Now, how ‘bout we celebrate with some breakfast? I’ve got potatoes, carrots, and some of that weirdly good alien kale. You in?”
She laughed. “You had me at potatoes. Let’s go.”
They headed to the small kitchen module. Cooper set to work chopping potatoes, while Amelia heated a pan on the solar-powered stove. The domesticity of it felt almost surreal—two people who’d crossed galaxies, survived black holes and wormholes, now bickering over how crispy to make the potatoes.
“Man,” Cooper said, tossing a potato chunk into the pan with a sizzle, “you know what I don’t miss about Earth? Traffic. Sittin’ in a truck for an hour just to get to the damn store, breathin’ dust the whole way. Out here? I can walk five minutes and be in the middle of nowhere. It’s freedom.”
Amelia chuckled, flipping the potatoes with a spatula. “Traffic, huh? I don’t miss the bureaucracy. Endless forms, approvals, meetings about meetings. Out here, if I want to run a test, I just do it. No one’s breathing down my neck about budgets or ethics boards.”
Cooper snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Ethics boards. Yeah, those were a nightmare. I don’t miss the politics, either. People yellin’ about who gets what, who’s to blame for the world goin’ to hell. Here, it’s just us, the chickens and TARS’s bad attitude.”
“Don’t forget CASE,” Amelia said, smirking as she took a bite. “He’s the real MVP. Keeps the systems running without complaining.”
“Unlike some robots I could name,” Cooper said, loud enough for TARS to overhear from the next room.
“I heard that, Cowboy,” TARS called out. “Keep talkin’ smack, and I’ll reprogram your rover to drive in circles.”
Amelia burst out laughing, nearly dropping her spatula. “Oh, God, don’t give him ideas, Coop. Last thing we need is TARS staging a robot rebellion.”
Cooper grinned, pointing a fork at her. “You know he’d do it, too. He’s got that look in his… well, not eyes, but you know what I mean. That smug little glow in his circuits.”
“Smug?” TARS interjected, rolling into the kitchen module with an exaggerated whir. “I’m the picture of humility, Cooper. You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m better at math than you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cooper said, waving him off. “Go calculate the trajectory of my foot kickin’ your chassis, wise guy."
She shook her head, still laughing as she slid the vegetables onto plates. “You two are gonna be the death of me. I’m trying to raise a kid and ten more in incubators, and you’re out here starting a feud with a robot.”
“Hey, he started it,” Cooper said, feigning innocence as he dug into his breakfast.
They finished their meal, still chuckling over shared memories of Earth’s absurdities. After cleaning up, they headed to the new living quarters to prepare for the babies. The room was simple but functional, with a row of cribs printed from the 3D printer and crates of supplies stacked against the walls. The air smelled faintly of recycled plastic and fresh linens, a strange but comforting mix.
Cooper grabbed a stack of blankets, tossing one to Amelia with a grin. “Alright, Dr. Brand, let’s make this place baby-ready. Gotta have these cribs lookin’ like a five-star hotel before our crew shows up.”
She caught the blanket, rolling her eyes. “Five-star hotel? Coop, you’re setting some high expectations. These kids are gonna be happy with a warm blanket and a bottle.”
“Hey, I’m plannin’ ahead,” he said, tucking a blanket into a crib with exaggerated care. “Gonna spoil ‘em a little. Teach ‘em to appreciate the good stuff—like sunfruit pie."
She laughed, smoothing a blanket into another crib. “You and that pie. You’re gonna be that dad who sneaks them snacks behind my back, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” he said, tucking a blanket into a crib with exaggerated precision. “Gotta teach ‘em the good stuff early—rover drivin’, chicken herdin’, maybe a little starship maintenance by age ten.”
Before Amelia could fire back, CASE’s voice cut through the room, calm but urgent. “Dr. Brand, Cooper, the first incubator is signaling readiness. Subject three—Noah—is prepared for delivery.”
Amelia froze, her hands stilling on the crib, her eyes wide as she turned to Cooper. “It’s time,” she whispered, a mix of excitement and nerves in her voice.
He grinned as he grabbed her hand. “Well, damn, doc. Let’s go meet our first kid.”
They rushed back to the lab. The incubator’s lights were blinking steadily, and Amelia’s hands moved with practiced precision as she checked the readouts, her brow furrowed in concentration. Cooper stood beside her, his eyes locked on the tiny form inside.
“Everything’s good,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor of excitement in it. “He’s ready. CASE, initiate the delivery sequence.”
“Affirmative,” the robot replied, his mechanical arms moving smoothly to adjust the incubator’s settings. The machine hummed and a soft hiss filled the air as the artificial womb began to drain, the tiny figure inside shifting slightly.
Cooper reached for Amelia’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You got this, darlin’. We got this.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving the incubator, her voice barely above a whisper. “Here we go, Noah. Welcome to the world.”
Notes:
So, that's the end. Thank you for reading this story I had a lot of fun writing it and it really became dear to my heart. I hope you liked and maybe even think of it, the next time you finished watching the movie.
Around_the_Sun on Chapter 8 Mon 12 May 2025 07:04AM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 8 Mon 12 May 2025 09:56AM UTC
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Gary (Guest) on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 12:29PM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 12:41PM UTC
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Gary (Guest) on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 01:10PM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 01:25PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 13 Jun 2025 01:27PM UTC
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Gary (Guest) on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 01:42PM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 02:21PM UTC
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Gary (Guest) on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 02:40PM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 10 Fri 13 Jun 2025 03:16PM UTC
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uptowngirl (Guest) on Chapter 11 Wed 09 Jul 2025 01:56AM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 11 Wed 09 Jul 2025 03:14AM UTC
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endlesslyvibrant on Chapter 12 Sat 12 Jul 2025 04:39PM UTC
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uptowngirl (Guest) on Chapter 12 Mon 14 Jul 2025 03:25AM UTC
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uptowngirl (Guest) on Chapter 12 Mon 14 Jul 2025 09:57AM UTC
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SRA94 on Chapter 12 Mon 14 Jul 2025 12:42PM UTC
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