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The Hail Mary disappeared from the sky, a single fleeting speck in an ocean of dying stars. Dr. Ryland Grace leaned heavily into the control panel, a bark of laughter escaped but no one else joined in his reverie.
To his right, Dr. Shapiro kept her eyes up, watching as the contrails wafted away with the winds, only the angle of her head keeping in her tears. Behind her the rest of the B-Squad thanked whatever gods they believed in that they were still on Earth.
And to his left, Eva Stratt. In the same place she’s been for the past 4 years. She’s doing what she normally did. After events, meetings, failures and successes. Stratt doesn’t look out towards the skies and the dimming sun. Instead, her eyes were on Grace.
Grace isn’t sure about this habit of hers. Was it a habit? He doesn’t know when he first noticed it and was definitely too afraid to bring it up to her, lest she throws him into the brig for pointing out such a human tendency.
He remembered early on, when he was still new to the Vat and barely had his sea legs under him, a meeting between the engineers and biologists that happened before the centrifuge idea. They argued about gravity on scientific tools and long term functioning of electrical devices that wouldn’t be used for at least 4 years.
Everyone was burnt out, but in a room of academics, no one wants to be left in the negative after a debate.
Everyone except Dr. Grace, who had already lost his debate decades ago and after working with preteens for the last ten years, knew when it was time to throw in the towel. His head was already resting against his hand and was falling closer and closer to the table. In another half hour dinner starts up in the cafeteria and there’s no brand of microscope they could promise him to get him back on topic.
He let out the smallest whine, rocking his head against his hand before his eyes wandered to Stratt next to him. Last time Grace remembered she was watching the debate like it was a lively tennis match, with each side backhanding each other in technical precision instead of comments. But at that moment, Grace turned to find her looking down towards him.
At first, he felt embarrassed, an usual emotion he got when Stratt looked at him for too long, usually judging something, but it didn’t come with the leaning head tilt. Stratt barely moved but her eyes continued to track him as he sat up straighter in his chair. Then an eyebrow lifted and Grace couldn’t help but mime stabbing himself in the face.
The eyebrow dropped and he felt that embarrassment well up again. He was never good with keeping his thoughts to himself. He should be lucky that he didn’t openly call this driveling argument out at face value, but he has learned a bit from his dissertation panel. Grace didn’t know how to silently apologize for being impatient to Stratt, instead falling into his shoulders with a pursed frown. Grace was about to melt into his seat before watching Stratt herself stand up and prop herself on both hands.
”Meeting over. No point in arguing at walls. I want new ideas for me tomorrow, without input from the other teams.” The attention Stratt commanded made both sides of the meeting freeze. Another 5 seconds of silence before, “That is your dismissal. Goodbye.”
That kicked everyone into gear. They scrambled to grab their items and leave as Stratt continued to lord over them. Grace waited, collecting his thing slower wanting to apologize for his immaturity during the meeting. Clearly a dismissal like that is punishment for being a child. He wondered if this was going to be his last night on the Vat. He wondered if they were going to wipe his mind like in Men in Black to keep his secrecy.
”Dr. Grace.” He winced, looking over sheepishly in Stratt’s direction. Still in her place above the table with both hands firmly planted, she fixed him with the same look she had before he royally fudged up.
”Ah man.” Grace huffed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stop the meeting.”
”Why are you apologizing?”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, yanking his glasses all the way off his nose as he did. “Because they were being annoying at each other so I started being annoying too keep myself occupied.”
”They were annoying. Arguments will get us nowhere, I want solutions. Academics being petty can be saved for the next conference that will never happen.”
“That doesn’t mean I should add into the childishness.”
”In time you will learn how to referee impartially.” Stratt said before spinning and pulling on her coat.
”So I’m not fired?” He asked.
Stratt gave him a look, one he would soon become very accustomed to. “Why would I fire my only mediator?”
The next time it was apparent it was caught on camera, inside the court room at the end of the copyright trial. Stratt was already in her prime, she had said things that could have been part of Hollywood scripts, the judge was still sputtering. And when the army came in, Grace had to look around for cameras in case he was getting punk’d.
Once she was standing on the other side of the aisle, flanked by army personnel with cameras flashing like it was a red carpet event, Grace had a hard time spotting her as he as everyone stood in a din. He still didn’t know why Stratt had him come to this. Grace even was held in cell for an hour before they let him out because he showed up with her. He wasn’t needed, if anything having him there was more of a nuisance because he strongly disliked the American justice system. But he was released nonetheless and Grace sat near the back with Carl and watched as they tried to nail her with intellectual crimes that would not matter when the world was froze over.
It was a play at control. A reminder for her to know her place. That’s what Stratt to him before the proceedings began, “A message to ‘stay in the lane’, as it were.”
Grace did not appreciate that the person who is saving humanity, the one that they elected to save humanity, was being rapped against the knuckles for trying her best. But after this show of force, Grace didn’t need to be so temperamental on Stratt’s behalf, one moody scientist who got to name Astrophage was nothing compared to every army in the world.
He laughed with a shake of his head before finally catching a glimpse of her. Stratt had made her way down the courtroom towards the exit and stopped at the doors, eyes locked on Grace who only caught sight halfway through his laughter. He bit down on his bottom lip to control it, hoping to not cause another scene in this well performed act.
Flashing cameras and shouting reporters couldn’t catch her attention, still targeting Grace as she arched her brow and gave him that look. Grace suppressed another laugh and gave a thumbs up before she turned to leave the courtroom, beckoning him to follow with a nod.
Before they made it back to the Vat, several People magazines with the picture of Stratt giving that look towards the camera, Grace and Carl blurry in the foreground were scattered throughout the cafeteria and shoved under his bedroom door.
When it was time for a gala, Ryland was on his best behavior. Many donors wanted to actually talk with him, as the person to name Astrophage, they believed meeting him would guarantee knowing someone famous while also sugar coating themselves in hopes he would remember them in his footnotes.
It was also when he was reminded how misogynistic the world was.
”But surely it’s actually you and your scientists that are leading the trail towards saving Earth, Dr. Grace?” A man with bone breaking hand shake who wore his sunglasses inside asked after exchanging an empty champagne glass off to a passing waiter.
From across the hall, he spots Stratt waving someone obviously drunk away. Grace’s face scrunched for a moment before realizing how childish that would look and before placing a more neutral look. “I and the other scientists are making breakthroughs, but without Director Stratt, we would never have been in the same room.”
”That’s the only thing they do really. Coordinate.” He trailed, taking another sip.
Grace wished he understood how they’ve gotten to this conversation. He was talking about clean energy. About Komorov using Astrophage as fuel, potentials for fossil fuel to not be used in commercial flights and coal to be a thing of the future. There was a single mention of Stratt’s Vat being the location for most achievements and it seemed to taint this whole man’s conversation.
He wasn’t the only one either, it seemed that while many of these “backers” enjoyed having their name on the short list for Petrova Taskforce, many weren’t happy with Director Stratt herself.
This did not sit well with Grace.
At least four times had he brought up things that only Stratt could have achieved. Plays no one else would risk their name over. Orders that have risked her life.
“Yes, yes.” They would answer, staring down at their soft hands. “History will tell who’s really in charge here, won’t it?”
“I don’t care much for history, actually. But as a scientist I can tell that the most important thing about you will be the chemical reaction that —“
As Grace was getting good, Stratt rounded in front of him and took his bicep with a firm hand. “Come along, Dr. Grace. I believe our ride is here.” For a moment, he looked over her at the rude man, about to finish his comment but Stratt gave him a stiff pat. “Can you collect our coats, please, Dr. Grace.”
Stratt usually didn’t speak to Grace in her real ‘I’m giving orders’ voice. Not anymore at least. She kept that exclusively for actual military personnel and the junior engineering team. But Grace knew when he was being redirected, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning without another word towards coat check.
As he stalked away, he could hear the man’s slurred speech. ”You really talk to your scientists like that? This isn’t reality TV, darling.”
Without thinking, Grace had turned on his heel about to storm back but when he turned, Stratt was still looking in his direction. She put her hand out and he halted instantly. Then she gave him that look, before turning to the other man and getting close enough that Grace could no longer hear what she was saying. He waited a moment, watching as she smoothly took the champagne flute out of the other’s hand and the white’s of his eyes showed through his sunglasses.
That was cue enough that Stratt had things handled. He wandered over to coat check, taking his time talking with the reception worker before heading back with both their coats. Stratt was waving over another worker, a security guard in black tie and introduced him to the guy who had finally taken his sunglasses off, face pale and sweaty.
She turned to Grace, “Ready?”
From the beginning, Stratt had her eyes towards Grace. Calculating, learning, assessing him in ways that Grace couldn’t even fathom.
Stratt watched him and his emotions that flitted his face in every waking moment. Grace could never hide how he felt, he was a softie, a bleeding heart that still cried when Mufasa dies. Grace’s hypothesis was that Stratt watched him because he could freely have the emotions that she could not show, or did not want others to know she has. At least that was the reason he thought she was hiding from.
Even with the culmination of this entire journey literally not blowing up in their faces, flying off, bending time and exploring space further than any part of humanity has ever gone, Stratt gives him that look. It’s a look he knows almost intimately.
We’ve only just begun.