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If there was one thing that Eva Stratt was good at, it was knowing things—knowing people. If she was a different woman, she might even pride herself on it. As it was, it was little more than a skill that she employed—just like anything else—to make sure that Project Hail Mary had every possible chance to succeed.
So when Ryland Grace—resident Astrophage expert and secret tertiary science specialist—came to her asking for an oddly-modified version of an instrument she knew for a fact he couldn’t play, she was… annoyed, to say the least. There was no real explanation for why he wanted it, and even less of one for why he was acting so strange.
“He carries it wherever he goes,” she muttered.
Dimitri nodded. “Even to lounge. Have you heard him play it?”
“Doesn’t sound anything like music,” Ilyukhina said. “At least not good music.”
Eva had gathered up every person who interacted with Grace on even a semi-regular basis in an attempt to see if anyone knew where the changes in him came from. No one had a decent answer.
“Dr. Grace has done little research the last few days,” DuBois contributed. “Whenever I speak with him, he plays notes under his words. It is… almost unnerving.” His voice was flat, as if he was not very unnerved by it at all. Well, she supposed that was why he was the primary science specialist.
Eva shook her head. “This is getting us nowhere. We all have work to do. If anyone hears anything from Dr. Grace, do not hesitate to inform me.” Agreement rang back at her, and the meeting made to scatter, when the door suddenly burst open.
The man of the hour stood there. Grace looked as oddly detached as he had for days, with a sort of keyboard strapped in front of him. His eyes flicked between their group and the window, showing the sky beyond.
“Dr. Grace—”
He cut her off, which was not something people often did. In fact, it was something she was far more likely to do to others. Still, he didn’t seem to care. “What are you talking about?” His fingers played quick chords as he spoke. He didn’t even look as he did it, but it did not make them any less purposeful.
“Discussing possible reasons why Tau Ceti is not infected while other stars are,” she replied deftly. “I would invite you to join, but we were just finishing—”
“Oh, that’s easy.” His hand twisted a knob, and the notes came out sharper. She had no idea what that meant—and oh how she hated it. “It is infected—Petrova Line and everything.”
Confusion buzzed around her, but Eva set her lips into a thin line. “Then why is it not getting dimmer?” She asked.
“Its planet Adrian is Astrophage’s homeworld,” he shrugged, as if he was saying normal things. “So Astrophage evolved, and a predator evolved right along with it to keep it in check. It’s basic science, really; seems obvious in hindsight.”
Eva nodded firmly. “Thank you, Dr. Grace. That is very helpful. You are dismissed.”
He cocked his head, and opened his mouth. Then, he seemed to think better of it, and gave a simple wave. “Bye,” he said, and played a few lower notes before disappearing through the door.
“What was that about?” Lokken asked.
“The stress has gotten to him,” Yao sighed.
Shapiro nodded. “What a strange thing to lie about.”
“No,” Eva said firmly. “No, I know Dr. Grace well. He is not a good actor, and an even worse liar. Whatever the reason for why he is saying what he is, he believes it to be true.”
He could be delusional. That wouldn’t be surprising—it wasn’t as if the things that they were doing were particularly easy for many to handle. Still, he had been fine the whole time, so why now? And so confidently saying things that he couldn't possibly know?
There was something going on here, something that she wasn’t aware of—and Eva Stratt hated not knowing things.
“I speak with him about it tonight,” she eventually decided, and turned to her schedule to send the others off to their duties.
That evening, Grace wasn’t in his trailer. That wasn’t odd in-and-of-itself, but then he wasn’t anywhere else, either. She radioed over the security’s frequency, and quickly got an answer.
She found him right where she was told that she would—sitting on a patch of dry grass along the edge of the base, staring up at the sky. Night had fallen long ago, and perhaps she could begrudge him a little stargazing, if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes were still; they must have been on one star in particular.
“Nice night, isn’t it?” He asked, not looking away from whatever star he was focused on.
She hummed. “A little cold,” she said as a breeze swept by them.
“Eh, I like it,” he said. “You don’t know how much you miss cooler air until it's gone. Temperature regulation is nice and all, but…” He pursed his lips and cut himself off.
Eva wanted to ask about that, but she thought better of it. Instead— “What are you looking at?”
He sighed. “40-Eridani.” There were a few moments of quiet before he continued, “Is it strange, to spend more of your life in one place than another, and still consider the original one home?” The notes still played under his words. They sounded forlorn, in a way.
“I suppose it depends,” she said. She nodded toward the keyboard. “What is that for?”
“Don’t want to get out of practice,” Grace replied. “Whatever this is, it’s lasting a while. It would suck to get rusty and then mess up down the line. Can you imagine?” He twisted a knob, and the chords became brighter. “‘Who can tell me the speed of time’ when I’m looking for ‘light?’ Embarrassing. They’d fire me or something.” He paused. “Can they fire me? No. Maybe. Would they?” He was talking to himself more than anything now. His fingers still moved easily over the keys, as if they belonged there.
“You’re concerning the team,” Eva said. His murmurings halted. “They are worried about your… mental state.”
“My mental state?” Grace snorted. “My mental state is fine—better than it’s been most of my life, probably. I mean, I miss everyone, sure, but I’ll see them again eventually; I’ll wake up soon enough.”
“‘Miss everyone,’” Eva parroted. He didn’t have close friends or family that she knew of; everything was easier that way, so she never gave much thought to it.“Your colleagues? Your students?”
“Don’t know if they’d really be considered colleagues, but yeah, I guess,” he said. It was intriguing how he was able to play the keyboard without even looking at it. The notes didn’t sound like a song really, but nothing seemed discordant either. It was all purposeful. It was all fascinating. “And the kids, of course, but it’s just…” He shook his head. “I forgot what it felt like, you know? To be alone in that room, with no one to even…”
Grace didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he finally broke his gaze away from the stars—from 40-Eridani, apparently—to bury his face in his hands. The keyboard was, at last, forgotten. He did not play it when he spoke again.
“He’s all alone out there,” he mourned, voice muffled. Eva had never heard him so upset—and she had heard him cry more times than she wished. “He’s all alone with no one to watch him sleep and he doesn’t even know that anyone’s coming…”
Silence fell between them. Eva had questions—a million of them—but none would form on her tongue. She didn’t understand what was going on, and for the moment, there was little she wanted more.
“How many days is it until launch?” Grace asked eventually. His fingers hesitated, and then pressed down on the keyboard alongside his words.
Eva blinked. He should know this. “Ten days,” she replied.
He hummed. “I want to be selfish, Stratt,” he said. “Isn’t that weird? I know I can’t be—know I’m not going to be—but I want to. Just this once.” His eyes turned back to the sky—back to 40-Eridani, she would bet—and then shifted abruptly to her.
Eva Stratt very rarely found anything off-putting. She dealt with too much insanity to ever struggle with that. Still, there was something about Grace’s eyes—perhaps the wideness of them, or the gleam within—that made her heart pound audibly in her ears.
“Tomorrow, DuBois is going to try and do an experiment, for some rare possibility that’ll never come up in the mission, but he wants to test it anyway,” he said. The chords blended perfectly with his words. It was like they were meant to be there. “Shapiro is going to watch. DuBois is going to ask for a nanogram of Astrophage. There is going to be a mix-up, and he will be given a milligram instead.”
She choked. “That’s—That’s a million times more.”
“It is,” Grace nodded. “The resulting explosion will vaporize the lab and everyone in it, including them. That’s when you’ll tell me that I’m the tertiary science specialist, and with the primary and secondary dead, I have to go instead.”
Immediately—on instinct—she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dr. Grace, but—”
“I’ll say no,” he interrupted her softly. The notes were almost wistful now. “You’ll make me go anyway—use some torture drug from the French to make sure I don’t remember being forced. And that’ll be that.”
He couldn’t know about that. There was literally no way for him to know about that. Very few were aware of the drug from the French, and the fact that he was the third back-up for the science position was something that rested almost exclusively within her own brain. It was certainly not knowledge that had the possibility of falling into Ryland Grace’s reach.
What was happening? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she didn’t like it.
“Save DuBois and Shapiro tomorrow,” he said. It was hushed—like a secret. “They don’t deserve to die. I almost… In a way, I wanted to let it happen—to control as much as I could—but they don’t…”
“Dr. Grace—” Eva started to say when he didn’t continue, but he cut her off again.
“Save them,” he said, “And then we’ll talk. After you see that I’m right.” His gaze turned back to the sky, and this time it stayed there. “I have some things you might want to know.”
Eva’s hands balled into fists before she could stop them. Her eye twitched. She wanted to say more—good Lord did she want to say more. Instead, she gave him a curt nod and stiffly walked back to her trailer. She had a few safety checks to put into place—and to keep secret.