Work Text:
21st March 2033
They came for her at dawn, just like she knew they would.
It felt like it had been forever. It felt like no time at all.
They led her from the cell, out past rows of other sleeping prisoners to a waiting car. It was cold outside; it was always cold now. They didn’t bother to use restraints; everybody knew she wouldn’t try to run. She had been the model prisoner for over a decade.
The car drove her to a nearby airfield, where a private jet was already waiting. On board were the clothes she had requested. A simple black dress with black shoes and a smart black coat with a collar high enough to cover the tattoo on her neck. The flight wouldn’t take long, but there would be time in the air for her to change, brush her hair, and dab a spot of chapstick on her lips.
Satisfied with her appearance, she took a seat opposite the young aide who had been assigned as her escort. He could only have been a child when the Hail Mary launched. The same age as one of Grace’s kids, she thought.
The young man seemed fidgety, perhaps a little nervous. She smiled; it appeared she still had that effect on people. God, he reminded her of Grace that way. She closed her eyes and was transported back years, back to Baikonur in the weeks after the launch.
***
”What about funerals?” Someone was asking.
”We can’t hold funerals; they’re not coming home. Their bodies will stay in the Tau Ceti system until the day our species hopefully becomes an interstellar one and we can retrieve them, but that's decades, if not hundreds of years away.”
”We can’t just do nothing. The public is already clamouring for some kind of acknowledgement.”
”They’ll all be added to the list for the annual NASA Day of Remembrance service from next January. Roscosmos and the CNSA are doing the same for their equivalent events,” the Deputy Administrator of NASA informed them.
”That’s great, but it’s not nearly big enough or public enough.”
“Then what do you suggest? It seems crass to hold funerals now; they’ve barely even passed Saturn, and we’re still getting delayed telemetry that they’re all comfortably in their comas but very much alive.”
“I’m suggesting we pick a date in the future, a meaningful one, and inform the public that there will be a service, but it won’t be until then.”
There was a pause in the conversation as everybody present considered the situation.
”What date are they due to wake up at Tau Ceti?”
”Commander Yao is due to awaken on March 19th, 2032; Ilyukhina on March 20th; and Grace on March 21st,” Stratt informed the room. Those dates were seared into her mind.
”Why stagger them?”
”There’s only one medical robot on board, and they’ll need care during the wake-up process. Staggering means the bot only has to manage one patient at a time. Plus Yao will be able to help Ilyukhina, and both of them will be able to help Grace, who has the least training.”
Another pause, shorter this time.
“Then I propose we hold a service on March 21st, 2033, exactly one year after they’ve all woken up. Realistically, within a full year they’ll have either found a solution and sent the Beetles home or realised there’s nothing to be found, and they’ll have…” The man speaking choked a little on his words. "They'll have seen the project through to its conclusion."
There were murmurs of assent from all present.
”In that case", a man with a crisp British accent spoke up, “I have been asked by His Majesty the King and the Prime Minister to offer London as the setting for the service. The United Kingdom has been part of Project Hail Mary since its inception, but we are also neutral in that none of the three astronauts are UK citizens, and so no favouritism would be shown. The Archbishop of Canterbury has offered Westminster Abbey as a host venue with an agreement that the service can be a secular one, and, well, my country does know how to put on an impressive funeral. We’ve got some recent experience in the matter after all.”
A few bittersweet laughs went around the table.
***
The jet descended quickly into Heathrow Airport and made its way to a private terminal, where Stratt was shown to another waiting car. Slowly, it made its way into the heart of London. Everywhere she looked, businesses were closed and the Hail Mary logo was displayed in windows along with the faces of Yao, Ilyukhina, and Grace. The day had been declared a national holiday in almost every country across the world.
The closer they got to the Abbey, the more people were on the streets. There were flags everywhere, predominantly a specially commissioned one that combined elements of the Chinese, Russian, and American flags, but many simply showed the Hail Mary logo or images of Earth and the sun.
As the car made its final turn and approached the Abbey, Stratt failed to suppress an uncharacteristic gasp. She had never seen so many people in one place. It felt like most of England had poured onto the streets.
The car slowed as they passed Westminster Hall. With no physical bodies, it was impossible to conduct a true “Lying in State” vigil, but an alternative had been dreamed up. Some of the final clothes the three astronauts had worn on Earth had been carefully collected and stored since the day of lift off at Baikonur. Each outfit had been meticulously folded and then placed atop the catafalque in the centre of Westminster Hall exactly one month ago. The papers estimated that over a million people from over 150 countries had lined up to walk past and pay their respects; Britain had even eased travel restrictions with a special Project Hail Mary three-day visa to allow as many people as possible to visit. A photo of the three piles of clothes had been on the front page of every newspaper around the world. The day it was delivered to her cell and she saw the little stack of Grace’s jeans with his bright yellow raincoat and stupid little beanie hat was the first and only time she cried in prison.
The car came to a stop outside Westminster Abbey at exactly the minute it was supposed to; the British truly did know how to organise these things, and Stratt stepped out, leaving her young aide inside where he would wait for her. She was greeted by an attendant, handed an order of service and taken to the doors. As she made her way along the aisle in a queue of foreign dignitaries, celebrities and leading scientists from across the world, she glanced at the folded paper in her hand. Grace’s face smiled up at her. He looked so impossibly young.
Stratt was seated in the front row and took a seat beside Ilyukhina’s sister Nataliya and Yao’s two now-adult children.
”Didn’t expect to see you here,” Nataliya said, not unkindly.
“It was my single condition,” Stratt replied. “I knew I’d be going to prison once the mission was safely on its way. When they arrested me, I said I wouldn't fight any of it on the single condition that I would one day be allowed to attend this service as a private citizen and a representative of Dr Grace. I think they were so relieved that I wouldn’t drag them through the international courts that they all agreed immediately.”
Nataliya raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Stratt knew that those closest to the project had long suspected something was off about Grace’s sudden apparent willingness to go on the mission, and no doubt Ilyukhina had shared as much with her sister, but the past was in the past, and today was about the world coming together to share its pain and its hope. Nataliya wasn’t about to start a fight.
The service began.
The President of China led the way, carrying Yao’s bundle of clothes and placing them upon the steps that led to the altar; he was followed by the President of Russia carrying Ilyukhina’s bundle and, finally, the President of the United States carrying Grace’s. Once she had laid down the final bundle, all three stepped back in unison, bowed, and turned to take their seats.
The Secretary General of the United Nations stepped up to lead the service. None of the three astronauts had been religious, so a special dispensation had been granted for a secular service to be performed in the Abbey. No eulogies were to be given. All three astronauts had already been the subject of countless books, documentaries, podcasts and other media. There was simply nothing more to be said.
The head of the CNSA took the podium first and read a heartfelt message of thanks in Chinese before Yao’s children stepped up. Together, they read a poem written by themselves based on the Chinese proverb of the red string of fate, linking the ancient myth to the Petrova line and their father’s ultimate connection to it. Stratt could hear sniffling all around her. After the poem ended, they each took red envelopes from their pockets and placed one each atop the three piles of clothes.
Next, the General Director of Roscosmos stepped up and read her own message of thanks in Russian. Nataliya followed. She laid two black lilies on each of the three piles and then tearfully recited a poem titled 'Love You More' by James Carter. Only the knowledge of what she had to do next kept Stratt from finally breaking. She owed Grace this.
Finally, the Administrator of NASA stood up and recited the final message of thanks, this time in English. As she moved to retake her seat, Stratt stood and took her place at the front of the enormous cathedral. She looked out over the sea of faces, knowing billions more would be watching all around the world.
In the front rows sat Presidents and Kings. She almost laughed imagining Grace’s expression if she had told him that his memorial service would be attended by such people. That his cheap yellow raincoat would one day be handled with the ultimate reverence by the leader of his country.
Behind them she recognised faces from the project and their families. In one section she spotted a number of unfamiliar young faces; these she knew were some of the children Grace had taught over the years. In acting as his representative for this event, she had insisted that invitations be extended to every child who ever passed through his classroom. In another section were celebrities. A popular singer who would shortly sing the committal and the actors who had played the astronauts in the official film of the Hail Mary.
She looked down at the words on the paper in her hand that had started to blur slightly as her eyes filled with tears, took a deep breath, and allowed her voice to soar.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
who saved a wretch like me.”