Chapter Text
Ryland Grace wakes up gradually.
Sensations come back to him in bits and pieces, fuzzy and difficult to grasp. There’s warmth, first; then the feeling of something wrapped around him, closing him in. He is encased, too-tight, unable to see or move or even breathe in fully, and he doesn’t understand why. And thus, thirdly, there is panic.
A garbled voice announces something above him, but he’s too focused on trying to get out, get away from whatever contraptions he’s stuck in, to make it out. (Or to consider why the voice sounds so robotic).
He flails, uselessly, yelling without much sound. He wonders if this is how a newborn would feel. He wonders why that’s the first place his mind goes.
Something firm presses down on him, then, as if to steady his movements. Something slides away - the thing that”s been covering him - with a small hiss, and light slips in above him. He squints, eyes struggling to adjust, still fighting to pull himself free.
Another voice above him, warmer and gruffer this time, tells him, “Be still, doctor.”
Grace grunts, “Ge– ‘et off me–”
The hand pulls away. Grace finally musters the strength to sit up. He blinks, wildly, trying to adjust to the brightness of everything around him. “Where the hell–?”
“Relax, doctor. Please do try to relax.”
Grace drags his attention over to the source of the voice. A figure stands in front of him, a little blurry, still, but undoubtedly another person. Grace swallows slowly
“Hello?”
The person - a man, seemingly, tall and well-built - nods at him. “Hello, Doctor Grace.”
Grace frowns. The man knows him, seemingly, but he can’t– he isn’t sure who the man is. He tries to think, but his memory feels like sand through shaky fingers - fickle, and uncooperative.
“Who… are you?” He asks, carefully.
The man doesn’t answer at first. He seems to be doing some thinking of his own, mulling over the question, and the situation at large.
“I am Yáo Li-Jie, the commander of this ship.”
“Oh,” says Grace. He is starting to feel increasingly out of his depth. “This… wait, what? Ship? This ship? Why are we– what do you mean, ship?”
“Ship. Spacecraft. Our vessel.” Yáo says plainly. “We are in space, doctor.”
Grace feels sick. “No. No, I can’t be. I’m not supposed to be in space, I’m– I–”
He thinks, really truly tries to think, straining every part of his still-processing brain. He sees flashes of something - a memory - briefly in his mind's eye. Children. A classroom. He’s standing at the front, talking. No, teaching. He’s–
“I’m a teacher. I teach kids, I– I tell them about space, and physics but– I’m not an astronaut–!”
Yáo sighs. “You really don’t remember how we got here.” It’s a statement more than a question.
Grace shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s going on, man.”
“That is interesting. All my memories remain intact, though a little fuzzy still.”
“Well, lucky you.”
Grace pulls his legs up to his chest, resting his chin atop his knees. Part of him wishes that, if he can just make himself small enough, he’ll disappear entirely, and reawaken in a place he actually knows.
Yáo is staring at him all the while. He has a kind face, though there is a sadness in his eyes. Is it from Grace, and his inability to remember who Yáo is? Or something else, something Grace couldn’t even try to guess, because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on.
Yáo clears his throat. “I will give you a minute. To be composed. I must check the ship.”
“Wait–!” The word leaves Grace’s mouth before he even fully realises what he’s saying. Yáo does, to his credit, wait. He looks at Grace, expectantly.
“Do you… do you know how long I’ve been asleep?” Grace asks.
Another brief, contemplative silence. Yáo’s expression morphs from sadness to uncertainty.
“No,” he says, “I do not. Not yet, at least.”
“Not yet? What are you saying, man? What does that mean?”
The uncertainty shifts to absolution. Yáo steps forwards, rests a hand on Grace’s shoulder. He tilts his head to the side, ever so slightly, tentative, as though he is addressing a wounded animal, and not another so-called spacecraft crew member.
“I do not know,’ he says. “Because I was asleep as well.”
And Grace knows, then, that he is in for a long ride.
*
Yáo Li-Jie watches as Grace attempts to stand - for the third time, to no avail - before deciding he should give the man some privacy.
He can hear Grace muttering to himself as he leaves, trying very hard to rationalise the situation. Part of Yáo wants nothing more than to sit with him, to respond to his nonsensical babble and assure him; but Yáo has a job to do, and that will always be his priority.
He passes through each hall of the ship, slowly. His own legs are still adjusting.
He has a few hours on Grace, in regards to being awake, but most of that time had been spent willing his body to remember how to function. He had just managed to take a few steady steps when the voice of Mary had reported:
“Eye movement detected.”
Selfishly, part of Yáo had hoped it was for Ilyukhina.
Yáo does like Grace. He respects him, above all else, and he views his research and achievements as something akin to heroism. No one can deny that Doctor Ryland Grace is a great man, and Yáo would never even fathom such a thought.
But he doesn’t know Grace as well as he would like. They’ve spent time together, sat through meetings and colleague get-togethers, but Grace always seemed detached from the mission itself. It had been a shock to Yáo, then, when he had been brought aboard. The thought makes his stomach turn, just a little bit.
Ilyukhina, on the other hand, Yáo knows well. Every step of their training for the Hail Mary mission, they had spent together. Every after-party and quiet moment of contemplation, they were side-by-side. She had stayed with him as he sat, head bowed, for hours, and mourned the casualties of the lab explosion. And she had smiled so brightly at him, as they boarded their ship.
It’s quiet without her at his side. He can only hope Grace’s awakening is a sign of hers to come.
Yáo finally reaches the control room. He takes his rightful seat.
“Pilot detected.”
“Ship?”
The panel in front of him flashes. The ship itself seems to hum in answer to him.
“Commander Yáo Li-Jie. How may I assist you?”
“Status report, ship Mary.”
“The Hail Mary spacecraft is proceeding on course with no known or detectable issues. Maintaining intended speed. Maintaining sufficient spacecraft condition.”
“And the journey. How long…?”
“The Hail Mary will arrive at Tau Ceti in ninety-one days, eight hours, and two minutes.”
“Three months?” Yáo looks towards the window, looks out at the vast emptiness of space. “Why have we been woken early, Mary? Why not sleep another few months?”
“Request status: Unknown.”
“Ship, answer me. Why are we awake?’
“Unknown"
“As pilot and commander of this ship, I command you. Tell me why we are awake!”
“Ship occupants Grace, Ryland and Li-Jie, Yáo showed signs of cognitive functions. Ship support systems were deemed unnecessary.”
“But why? Why so early?”
“Unknown.”
Yáo slams his hands down on the comms. “Useless computer.” He wracks his brain, trying and failing to come to any conclusion as to why - now - his body had decided to pull itself from its comatose state.
Then, suddenly, a new thought.
“Ship? Mary?”
“Yes, commander Yáo Li-Jie.”
“Report on Ilyukhnia. Is she waking also?”
“Status report: Ilyukina, Olesya. Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Comatose.”
“Ship, repeat.”
“Status report: Ilyukina, Olesya. Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Comatose.”
“Again.”
“Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Comatose.”
“Ship, are you certain?”
“Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Comatose.”
“Tell me, ship Mary, when will she awake?”
“...”
“Unknown.”
Leaning back in the pilot’s chair, Yáo sighs, deeply. “Okay,” he mutters, “okay.”
There is a thud behind him, suddenly - the sound of a body hitting the floor. Yáo takes a moment to compose himself, before he stands.
“Ship, Mary," he says, as he walks towards the corridor, “please ensure that doctor Grace does not break his neck.”
“Afirmative, commander.”
*
Grace isn’t angry, per-say.
(He is, decidedly, quite angry, but he wouldn't call that his primary emotion right now).
He’s conused, more than anything else. Conflicted. It’s as if his brain is trying to recall a sequence of events, but it can’t quite seem to hold them steady long enough for him to process what he’s seeing. There's flashes of faces and voices, but none of it is tangible.
He sees a woman, briefly, as he clatters to the floor in another failed attempt at walking. Her expression is impossible to read. He wonders if they were friends.
“Ugh, what the hell,” he grunts, pushing himself back up again.
“You need to be careful. Slow.”
It’s Yáo’s voice, and it’s Yáo who stands before him, propped up in the doorframe.
“I’ve tried slow. And fast. And medium speed. None of it makes much difference.” Grace replies.
“Your body is struggling. It tries to adjust, but it is unsure what to adjust to. Your hindered cognitive function does not help either.”
Grace’s face scrunches. “My cognition is fine.”
“You cannot remember any of how you got here?’ This time, it’s a question.
“No,” Grace mutters. “I can’t, but–”
“Then clearly, there has been some impact on your psyche. Take things slowly.”
“Fine. Sure, fine.” Grace manages to his feet again. Yáo stays watching him. “Are you just gonna stand there?”
“I am commander, I oversee my crew.”
“Except for when they’ve just woken up and are freaking the hell out.”
“I had to take care of the ship, first. Ship is my priority, above all else.”
“You really did just wake up too?”
“Yes, as I had said.”
Grace takes a wobbly step forwards. He stays upright this time. “But your memory is fine?”
Yáo nods, still watching him. “Yes. My memory remains intact. Perhaps… it is because we were in different states when boarding.”
Grace freezes where he’s - shakily - standing. “Different states?”
“You had asked to be drugged, before boarding. To reduce panic. Ilyukhnia and I boarded as normal.”
“Ilyu… what? What do you mean, drugged? Why would I… do that…?”
“I do not know. Only Stratt knew, no one else had been informed.”
“Stratt, who is…” Grace takes another step forwards, towards Yáo, just barely managing to keep himself from falling. “I don’t remember any of these people…”
“Stratt is in charge of this project - the Hail Mary project. You worked closely with her, you figured out much of this mission together.”
“Okay, okay…” Another step. Grace’s body is gradually more cooperative. “And Ily… Ilyuh…?”
“Olesya Ilyukhnia,” Yáo supplies. “She is our third. Our final crewmate.”
“Okay, so, where is she then?”
Grae finally looks up from his feet - more confident standing, now - and towards Yáo. And he sees, written across Yáo's face, that sadness from before. He looks towards one of the pods - the only one still occupied,
“She sleeps, still,” he utters, “I do not know for how much longer.”
“...Oh.”
“You were only a few hours after me, though. So perhaps… soon.”
Grace nods. “Yeah, I’m sure it will be soon.”
*
A half-hour passes. And then a full hour. And then two. Ilyukhina does not wake.
Yáo and Grace sit in the makeshift common room (or, the closest thing to one that they ship possesses), in an awkward silence.
Yáo has done his best to explain as much as he can about the Hail Mary mission. About astrophage and Tau Ceti, about the potential end of the world. About the finality of their mission. (Grace struggles with that part, perhaps more than any of it).
He tells Grace, too, about his place in it all. The doctor cannot seem to believe it, his expression cycling through a dozen different emotions. The only part that Yáo can’t part for - which is, annoyingly, the part Grace most wants to know - is how he came to be on the Hail Mary himself.
Yáo says: “I was told you volunteered. I know no more than that.”
Grace says: “Something about that feels wrong.”
Hence, now, the awkward silence. Yáo can’t deny that feeling of wrongness, because it is something that weighs heavy on him, too.
Grace had seemed quite adamant that he had no interest in the mission, so his sudden change of heart had come as a shock. Pleasant though it was, all Yáo had was Startt’s account. He never heard Grace himself say he was happy to come aboard. Looking at the doctor now, as is, it feels improbable.
“I just… I don’t know,” Grace says, eventually, “I can’t picture it.”
“You have amnesia, doctor.”
“Well, yeah, obviously. But, all the other stuff, when you mentioned it, it was like I could see little flashes of those memories. Like they were there to be remembered. But when I try to think about coming aboard the ship… it’s all blank, man. I don’t know.”
“Turnaround was quick. There was little time between you choosing and coming aboard. Perhaps it being so close to when you were sedated makes it a more difficult memory to access.”
“Perhaps, I guess.” Grace looks down at his hands, fidgeting.
“I think whatever way it happened, you are very heroic for choosing to come aboard.” Yáo tells him.
Grace smiles, though he can’t say it’s entirely happy. “Yeah, I guess.”
Silence, again. Yáo is sure it wasn’t always this difficult for the two of them to converse.
“You said you taught physics?” he says.
“Huh,” Grace is dragged from whatever thought he was lost in, “Oh, yeah. Not at a super high level, it was mostly middle school kids, you know. But I enjoyed it. I love my kids. I… or… I did love them. I loved being their teacher.” He frowns. “I’ve been away from them a long time, haven’t I?”
“Yes. I think that you have.”
“Man. Ha! I don’t know if I like this, man.”
Grace stands, suddenly, looking all around the room. “Fuck, I mean, this isn’t me. None of this is meant for me. I’m supposed to teach about space not– not be a part of it.”
“Doctor, please–”
“No, no, I can’t do this, Yáo. I can’t be here.”
“There is nowhere else to go.”
“There has to be some other way, we have to turn around or something–”
“Grace, we cannot. Tell him, ship.”
“The Hail Mary must not turn back, Doctor Ryland Grace.”
“What the– why the hell can the ship talk? I don’t understand. See? I’m not meant for this.”
“Doctor Ryland Grace: Heartrate elevated.”
“Shut up, I don’t need a ship talking to me.”
“Doctor, please.”
“No, no–”
“Grace.”
Yáo is standing too, trying to get to Grace, but the latter evades him, dipping away from Yáo’s grasp and darting down the corridor.
“I have to get out of here, Yáo. I’m sorry, but I have to.”
“Grace, please.”
Yáo rushes after him, down the long corridor. Grace is fast, frantic, tearing down this way and that, looking for something - anything - that could grant him some kind of freedom from this nightmare he is in.
He stumbles at one point, takes a few steps, and then trips entirely, crashing to the floor. His needs hit against one of the metal pipes, and he swears, loudly.
“Doctor Ryland Grace; Status: Injured.”
Grace shrieks. “Shut up robot ship voice! Shut up!”
He jumps back to his feet, takes off again.
He can hear Yáo behind him, just as fast as he calls out his name. “Grace. Please, Wait.”
“Doctor Ryland Grace; Status: Injured.”
It’s like the ship is mocking him.
“Doctor Ryland Grace; Status: Injured.”
Grace stumbles around a corner, into another room and–
–he’s panting for breath leg aching, and–
–he could cry, well and truly cry as he––finds himself in the same place he woke up.
Grace stops running. He feels tears pooling in the corner of his eyes as he lets himself sink to the floor. There’s no way out of this. He knows that for certain, now.
An out-of-breath Yáo rounds the corner into the medical wing of the Hail Mary, where Ryland Grace sits, defeated, on the floor. Yáo exhales, slowly. He cannot afford to be emotional too.
“Grace,” he says, once again as though approaching a wounded animal. It’s not far from reality this time.
Grace turns to him, eyes wet. “Yáo.”
“Let me help you, please, doctor.”
Grace looks at him, holds his gaze, for a moment, mulling over the words, before nodding, slow and resigned. “Okay,” he says, “okay.”
*
Five minutes later, Grace is sitting on the edge of a medical table, as Yáo rubs antiseptic cream on the gash on his leg.
“It is not serious,” Yáo tells him, “but better safe than sorry.”
“You seem pretty practised at this.” Grace says.
“Perhaps I am.” Yáo reaches for a bandaid, pulling off the paper. “I am many things.”
“Well, I appreciate it.’ Grace watches as the bandaid - which is bright blue, and NASA branded - is placed over his little gash.
“Of course, doctor. As commander, it is my job to keep you safe.”
“But you’re more than just my commander, right?” Grace asks.
Yáo looks at him, unsure. “In what sense, doctor?”
“I mean… okay, nevermind, actually, it’s a stupid question.”
“No, no,. No such thing as stupid questions. I just want to understand.”
“Are we…” Grace looks down at Yáo’s hands, rough and calloused, still hovering next to Grace’s knee. His nails are stubby, and there’s a long scar on one of his knuckles. Grace hadn’t taken the time to notice before now. He wonders if he had, back on Earth.
“Are we what, doctor?”
“Are we friends?” Grace asks. He winces as the words are spoken. The question doesn’t feel quite right, at least not phrased like that. “Or, I guess… were we friends?”
Yáo hums, thinking. “Yes,” he says, after a moment’s contemplation, “I would like to believe that we were - are - friends.”
Grace turns his head, then, and Yáo knows exactly where he’s looking. The same place his eyes have wandered the whole time they’ve been in the medical wing. Ilyukhina’s pod. “Are you two friends?”
“Yes,” Yáo’s voice is lower this time, tinged with an emotion Grace can’t place. That sadness is back, perhaps more so than ever. “We are good friends.”
“Do you know why she’s not awake yet? Or why we are?”
“No. I have asked the ship, and checked all the logs I can access. It seems our bodies just decided it was time.”
“And hers hasn’t?”
“No. It has not.” Yáo sighs. “Not unless anything has changed–”
“Status report: Ilyukina, Olesya. Vitals: Stable. Functional status: Comatose.”
“–Which, it has not.”
“So it’s just us for now, then,” says Grace.
Yáo smiles, albeit it small. “I suppose it is.”
“So, uh, I guess we should find some kind of board game, or cards, or… Something, to do together. To pass the time.”
“Are you more accepting of our mission then, doctor?”
“I’ll have to get back to you on that. Uh, probably not? But, I don’t think I have much choice, so we can at least find a board game to play in the meantime.”
He meets Yáo’s gaze, perhaps for the first time since waking up. “I must warn you, though, I’m a beast when it comes to Connect Four."
Yáo laughs, then, real and genuine. “We shall see about that.”