Chapter Text
“Yeah you, shook me all night long.”
The song echoed through Mary’s cockpit, the bass thrumming and vocals sharp. Grace spun in the pilot’s chair, strumming an air guitar as he jabbed a finger at Rocky, singing, “Yeah, you! Shook me all, night, long!” With a bright smile, he shouted, “Take it away, Rock!”
Rocky shimmied in his tube next to Grace, claws crabbing as his vocalizer said, “You shake at night.” Pinching the air, he repeated, “You shake at night!”
“Awesome stuff, bud!” Grace laughed. Another spin and he was facing the flight controls, his focus snapping over to the displays. Everything looked right. “Alright, enough messing around, let’s do this.” Flicking a switch, he took hold of the joystick and began to steer the ship leftwards towards the snow white Zeta Eridani A. The bulky exoplanet shone as bright as a star through the porthole. Grace grinned wide. “Wow,” he whispered. “Who would’ve thought Zeta Eridani had a planet, huh?”
“Rocky knew.”
“Okay, well,” Grace scoffed. “Earth didn’t. So.” Inching Mary closer, he could make out the swirl of clouds tucked below a halo of purple exosphere. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Grace having ‘a moment’ again, question,” Rocky said.
With a shake of his head, Grace chuckled, “Nah. I'm just looking.” He rolled his eyes. “We don't want to hit its atmosphere like last time, do we?”
Rocky shuddered. “No, no, bad, bad.”
“I agree,” Grace huffed. Tilting with the movement of the ship, he brought Mary even closer. Thrumming his fingers along the joystick, he bobbed his head to the beat of the AC/DC song as it ended.
Journey came on auto-play next.
Grace nodded. “Classic.”
Rocky chirped, “Amaze. Amaze. Human music amaze.”
“Right?” He glanced at Rocky with a lopsided grin. “It's pretty great!”
Mary chimed.
Outside sensors had them at the correct trajectory, the correct tilt. They weren’t close enough to be in danger of falling into Zeta Eridani A’s gravity, but they were close enough for a boost. Grace reached up and cut the engines. Physics would do the rest. He said, “Let’s hope this gives us enough momentum to slingshot to Erid, right?”
Hopping in his tube, Rocky said, “Yes. Slingshot.”
Grace scrolled through their itinerary: they had one year, six months, two days, and twelve hours left until they arrived on Erid. Easing back with his hands above his head, he said, “I'm getting pretty good at this piloting stuff, huh?”
“No, Grace bad. Grace make Mary bumpy,” Rocky said.
Squinting, Grace flicked his glasses off to hang around his ear. “We can agree to disagree.” Then, snapping on the centrifugal force, Grace unbuckled himself as gravity took hold.
“Rocky excited,” his friend said. “Erid beautiful!” At that, he clattered against the xenonite, dancing in place.
Grace hummed.
What was Erid like?
Rocky hadn't described it in much detail outside of being full of chunky hills and valleys. His species hadn't developed eyesight, so Grace assumed it would be primarily dark. And, with the burning atmospheric conditions of Rocky’s ship, Grace could only hope he wouldn’t catch fire upon stepping outside of Mary.
Stepping outside, huh?
In a year’s time, if everything went right, he’d have the opportunity to leave the ship. The idea terrified him as much as it intrigued because, on one hand, he’d have the ability to meet an entire alien species and see a foreign world that scientists of Earth could only dream of. But on the other hand–
What if there were complications living on Erid?
What if the Eridians grew tired of him?
What if he wanted to go home?
What if he didn’t even make it?
His stomach dropped. Swallowing hard, Grace took a deep, grounding breath.
Worrying about the “what ifs” wouldn’t help. Not now. Instead, he exhaled hard and headed for the ladder. “Okay,” he said. “Bed time.” He positioned himself above the first rung.
In front of him, Rocky chittered. “Grace sleep–”
“And Rocky watch,” Grace finished. Starting down the ladder, he smiled. “As always, pal. And–”
The music cut off.
Mary said, “Transmission incoming.”
Grace froze.
Rocky stopped his descent down his xenonite tube. They looked at one another. Grace frowned, scurrying back up the ladder. “Wait, what?” Heaving himself back up into the cockpit, he leapt into the pilot's chair once again and asked, “Transmission from where? What’s it say?”
“Transmission location unknown,” Mary stated. “Connecting transmission signals.”
The speakers crackled. Low, ringing static followed. A gravelly, deep voice began, “Hello?” There was a deep breath followed by, “Are you there?”
Grace’s heart shot into his throat.
Fumbling for the microphone, he pressed down on the blinking button and said, “Uh, hi.” His voice cracked. Grace cleared his throat. “Hi. This is Doctor–Captain Ryland Grace aboard the Hail Mary.” Pulse rabbiting, he asked, “Who…is this?”
“Ryland Grace,” the voice huffed. “Of the Hail Mary.”
Grace nodded. “Yes, that’s–”
“Is that what you’re calling yourself now, you son of a bitch?”
Mouth going dry, Grace tensed. A shaky laugh escaped him. “Well that’s intense.” What was happening? Who was this man? And, most importantly– “Where are you from?” he asked. Turning towards the star chart, he scrolled as quickly as his fingers would allow. “Earth is ten light–”
“Earth?” the stranger asked. “What the fuck is Earth?” He growled. Grace shivered. “I swear, when I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you killed me. Just you fucking wait!”
“Grace!”
Whipping around to the sound of Rocky’s voice, Grace barely had time to scream as an black mass slammed into Mary’s porthole window. The ship snapped sideways. Gravity vanished. Grace gasped.
One moment, he was in the air.
The next and he was cracking against the wall of the console room. Levers snapped under his weight. His head bounced off the metal. Grace felt himself collapse. Felt his cheek hitting the grating below, felt the blood rushing in his ears. Ringing echoed in his head. He gasped. The sound reverberated around him.
“–ace! Grace! Wake up! Wake up!”
“Holy…” Grace groaned. “Crap.” His skull pounded in time with his heartbeat.
He was lucky he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
Peeling his eyes open, he watched as a blurry Rocky bounced in his cracked xenonite tunnel. “Grace! Open eyes! Wake up!”
“I’m awake,” he grumbled. Pushing hard, he got himself up off the ground and onto his knees. Was the ship still spinning? Zeta Eridani A spun end over end through the window.
If it weren’t for the centrifugal gravity, he’d go flying, wouldn’t he?
“Jesus,” Grace mumbled. “What…hit us?”
“Blip E,” the ship announced.
That couldn’t be good.
Heaving himself onto his unsteady feet, Grace slumped against Rocky’s nearby tubing when his ribs jolted. Rocky scurried in close, pressing himself to the xenonite surface with a vibrating purr. “Thanks, bud,” Grace said. He wrapped an arm around his middle.
Did he break his ribs?
Something hot rolled down the back of his neck. Shuddering, Grace swiped at it.
His fingers came back bloody.
Blinking the spots from his eyes, Grace choked back a swoop of nausea. Breathing hurt. Thinking hurt even more. “Mary,” he wheezed. “Run ship diagnostics. Is anything damaged?”
It said, “The Hail Mary is intact but has sustained damage to the exterior airlock module.”
Swallowing again, Grace said, “Okay. Awesome. Cool, cool, cool.” Easing off of Rocky’s xenonite, Grace struggled to the ladder. Descending each rung gingerly, the movement left his eyes watering by the time he reached the bottom. “We need to fix that.” He stumbled into the hallway, yanking one of the tubed LCVG suits free and grabbing a toolbox, too.
“Dangerous,” Rocky said. “Grace no go.”
Bending to shrug his suit up felt like fire licking along his ribcage. “I've got to, Rock. We could die if the damage isn't superficial.” Setting the box down on a bench, Grace adjusted his LCVG and shrugged on the red secondary suit.
“Grace hurt,” Rocky said. “Grace bleeding.”
Right.
He…should stop the bleeding, first, shouldn’t he?
“Blip E, detected,” Mary said, and Grace stopped.
If whatever had hit them–whatever had transmitted to them was still out there, he could die. Should they leave? Run away? But if the ship was damaged, any movements could tear a hole in Mary.
No, his wound could wait.
Sliding his helmet on, Grace whined in the back of his throat when the material scraped against the raw cut along the base of his skull. He ignored the pain, ignored the flare of blinding light that flashed across his vision as he secured the helmet in place. “Get inside, bud,” he told Rocky, gesturing him through the airlock and into the main compartment of the ship. As soon as Rocky was clear, Grace dragged the door shut, cranked the lever to seal it, hooked the toolbox to his belt, and activated the decompression process.
He'd better not die going out there…
As the external door opened, Grace gulped.
Against the star spattered backdrop of space, an inky black object floated nearby. Barrel shaped and bulky, Grace couldn't make out any windows or secondary compartments. If it was a ship, it was impossibly small, dangerously so, even.
Hooking his line to the rods along the airlock door, Grace stepped out onto the ship. Wincing against the pull of his ribs, he reached up, propelling himself forward through space. Nausea followed. “Okay. EVA while concussed,” he slurred to himself. “Great idea, Ryland.”
“Rocky do not like,” Rocky said.
Grace snorted a laugh. “Buddy, you are not helping my stress levels, here.”
He moved, hooked his tether, moved again. The metal clip scraped along the rods with each shift.
By the time he got to the damaged part of the ship, his head was swirling. Was he dizzy? Everything was swirling around him, his grip weak on the bars of Mary’s exterior hull. “Crap,” he whispered.
“What wrong, question,” Rocky asked.
Grace cringed. For a second, he forgot his mic was patched through to the ship. How could he forget that? Clearing his throat, he said, “Nothing, bud, I'm good. I'm just…a little tired, I think.”
“Hurry, hurry,” Rocky said.
Grace nodded. “I am, pal.” Floating before the compromised part of Mary, he found the paneling loose with a knot of wires poking out. “Okay, good news, I found the problem.” Grace poked at the drifting panel, all its bolts missing save for one in the corner. The piece was misshapen and cracked. He said, “Bad news is I'm going to have to become a space mechanic.”
“Fix fast,” Rocky said. “Grace hurt. Bad, bad, bad.”
Feeding the wires back into Mary’s compartment, Grace cracked open his toolbox and scanned for the correct sized bolts. He fished one free, holding it up to the hole.
No, too small.
His second choice was too long.
“Well that’s just great,” he mumbled.
He afforded himself a moment to glance over his shoulder at the object that hit them. Was there someone in there?
Moreover, should he help them?
With a groan, Grace turned back to the issue at hand. Shuffling through the screws, he eventually found the right one, forcing his fingers to cooperate in the bulky suit. The power drill worked quick, fastening the panel back into place within minutes.
Grace closed the toolbox. “Done. Coming back in, Rock.”
“Good, good, good,” Rocky chirped in his headset.
Drifting back to the airlock of Mary, Grace cast one last glance at the bizarre object.
Through a muddied window, a man stared back at him.
Graze froze.
Dark eyes and even darker hair, a spill of black waves covered the stranger’s eyes. Through the red-smudged porthole, Grace could see the man’s hands pressing to the glass. Despite the dozens of feet between them, his gaze was almost pleading. Was darkened around the edges, too, filled with desperation.
Grace’s heart skipped.
Was he hallucinating? He was probably concussed, yes, but this–
This couldn’t have been right.
The man slammed a hand against the porthole. Gritting his teeth at Grace, he pressed his forehead to the bloodied glass. Was he injured, too?
Icy guilt splashed through Grace’s veins.
If he didn’t help the man, he’d likely die. Was the inside of the crude little ship as cold as the void of outer space? “Rocky,” Grace began, his voice cracking. “There’s a guy in the interstellar object. A human.” He chuckled. “Which, statistically speaking, should absolutely not be happening. But…but there’s a guy!”
Another human.
Someone like him, the only other one in light years, probably.
He said, “I’m going to help him.”
“Rocky no understand,” his friend said.
Pushing back into the airlock, Grace fastened the toolbox to the chunky netting along the sides of the walls. “There’s a man,” he repeated as he fastened his tether to the inside of the airlock. “And I’m going to get him.” Fishing free more rope, he secured it alongside his own tether, one looped on either side of the airlock.
“Bad idea,” Rocky said.
“I know,” Grace hummed.
Sucking in a steadying breath, he leapt into the void, his arms and legs flailing despite the pain spiking through him with the movement. The man in the ship recoiled as Grace slammed into the porthole with a choked off cry. Clinging to the metal lip along the edges, he pressed his forehead to the glass, gasping. He squeezed his eyes shut against a twist of nausea building in his throat. God, he didn’t want to vomit in the suit, please don’t vomit in the suit–
When his stomach calmed down, he squinted at the man before him. He found shock in his wrenched up expression. Confusion, maybe.
Grace shifted backwards and scanned the ship’s front: there weren’t any visible rods or holds to tie the rope to. Instead, there were giant, crass screws the size of his palm spiralled around the porthole where something must’ve been previously secured. He looped the rope around one of the screws before snapping it into a knot.
“Let’s just–” Grace murmured as he tugged experimentally at the rope.
It held.
He said, “Oh, good.”
Reaching over to tie the second rope, Grace grunted as it pulled at his aching ribs.
Once finished, he turned to the porthole window and said, “Hang on!”
The man took a step backwards.
Kicking off the ship, Grace drifted back into Mary. With clumsy hands against the thick gloves, he secured himself inside the airlock before grabbing hold of the ropes and tugging hard.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly–slowly–the stranger’s ship lurched towards Mary. Grace grit his teeth at the pressure around his ribs, a band tightening with every passing second. Swallowing a whine, he dropped his chin to his chest and pulled.
Pulled.
Pulled.
“How Grace, question,” Rocky asked.
He couldn’t speak.
Vision swimming with tears, Grace blinked fast. Rocky repeated, more urgently, “How Grace, question.”
“I got this,” he choked out.
As the foreign ship bumped into Mary’s exterior airlock opening, Grace deflated. A shiver tore down his spine. He couldn’t see inside, the porthole a window of black. “Rock, I need your xenonite,” Grace wheezed. “We need to make an air-tight seal.”
Breathing hurt more than before.
Maybe he did break something…
Nonetheless, together with Rocky in his ball, the two of them worked to construct a thin barrier that sealed the stranger’s ship to Mary. Grace helped where he could, slotting material into the gap between the two spaceships while Rocky secured the metal. As they worked, Grace stole glances into the window.
Nothing.
No light, no movement, and certainly no man.
Part of him wanted to shine a flashlight into the darkness.
He thought better of it.
When the seal was complete, Grace slammed his fist into the air lock button. A hiss ripped through the compartment as the atmosphere began to equalize and pressure stabilized. Within a few minutes, Grace was lifting his helmet off his head with a wince. Congealed blood followed, sticking to the inside cushioning and rim. “Jesus,” he mumbled. “That’s gross.”
Rocky said, “Grace hurt. Leave for medical, statement.”
“I need to get this guy out of there,” Grace said, shaking his head. “He could die if he doesn’t have oxygen.” Tearing through his tools, he found a small, powered saw. He flicked it on, testing the blade, before turning to the porthole in front of him. “Hey, I’m…I’m going to cut your ship open,” Grace announced. “Stand back. It shouldn’t take long, okay?”
Silence met him.
Slotting the flimsy blade between the metal grooves of the ship’s window, Grace cringed as sparks spattered across the airlock. He moved as fast as his ribs would allow him to push. Rocky, behind him, stood silently. The little alien barely moved as Grace rounded the saw, bringing it over, up, around.
With a finalizing snap, the window groaned. It dropped inside Mary’s airlock with a shuddering crash, cracking along its middle.
Grace straightened. He wrapped an arm around his smarting ribs. “Uh, hello? You alive in there?”
From the darkness, the man emerged into Mary’s light.
He was shorter than Grace but wider, his frame bulky with muscle, his jaw set. With sharp black hair and hardened eyes, the man looked more intimidating than anyone Grace had ever seen. Blood smeared down the sides of his face, clumping in his hair, staining his clothes, but none of it looked like his own. He had no cuts, no visible injuries.
What the Hell?
“Uh,” Grace began, swallowing thickly. He waved sheepishly. “Hi. Are you okay–?”
“You…” the man huffed.
Their eyes locked.
Grace’s scream died in his throat as the man rushed forward and tackled them to the ground.
White burst behind Grace’s vision. His ears rang. Chest shrieking in agony, he sobbed as he felt something snap in his ribcage–
Hands clamped down around his throat. Rocky screamed, “Grace! Grace!”
The man above him rattled with unbridled rage as he hissed, “I’ll kill you, COI scum.”