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Beep.
"Uh… h-hey, Colt, I, uh—" There's a distinct crackling on the other end of the line, as if whoever's on the phone had the phone either ripped out of his hands or dropped it in a rush, but he's regained control of it.
"Sorry about that. Listen, I know you're in Australia… still dealing with the Tom Ryder stuff, right? Is it Tom Ryder? Haven't b-been able to keep up with movies in a bit since, y'know… top secret government project, b-but could you perchance come to—"It's cut off again—and there's a barely hidden sob at the other end, teeth grinding audible enough to be picked up.
"Kazakhstan. U-Um, they want me to go to space. On the Hail Mary. The others died and they want ME to be the astronaut. ME. I'm freaking scared of elevators, Colt, can you believe it? And I told them no, I really did, but they want me to do it, and no amount of 'no' is changing her mind."
Oh. This is Ryland Grace, the molecular biologist who theorized that water wasn't necessary for life outside of Earth. This is Ryland Grace, the world's leading expert on Astrophage. And this is Ryland Grace, who was just told he would replace the scientists on the Hail Mary. 'No' wasn't an option, or a reason.
For a 'No' would see an Ice Age or a repeat of 1816.
But that did not account for Ryland Grace's fear. And he was terrified.
No pressure, but you're the only thing standing between us and a climate catastrophe. No pressure, but you're the backup for the backup—oops, did we mention that we kinda really needed you to be launched into space? Stratt hadn't said that, but she didn't need to when confronting him with the reality of Project Hail Mary.
Because that's what it boiled down to. Ryland Grace, disgraced microbiologist and now world's leading expert on Astrophage was needed.
And he did not want to be needed. The Call to Adventure was denied, thank you.
Beep.
"Uh, hey, …Six? Right? Is that what you insisted on us calling you?" Ryland Grace's voice cuts off with a swallow, though it sounded hysterical, strangled.
Ryland Grace was no stranger to sounding hysterical, but to hear him like this? What in the world was going on?
"I know you said not to call unless this was an emergency, but—" Ryland Grace cuts off yet again, this time to the sound of someone else yelling behind him.
Multiple someone else.
"I think this is. I really, really think this is, 'cause they're going to send me into space, the place blew up and Stratt was like 'surprise, we have a backup to go into space, and it's me!' S—Court, they're going to send me into space, and I said no, believe me, I said no! I don't want to go to space without saying goodbye, I don't even like planes or elevators, I told Colt this—" The sounds behind Ryland Grace grow louder, as his breathing sped up to a pitchy, heartrending noise.
"They're sending me off on a suicide mission, Court, please, I need help!" The message cuts off on the frantic cry for help, as in the remote place, in this little corner of the crisis, Ryland Grace is being pursued throughout the compound.
For he said no. But there was no call to Adventure here, there was only the reality that Ryland Grace was needed.
Colt Seavers was a stuntman, dammit. He made his living throwing himself off of buildings, being set on fire—back being broken in two places notwithstanding, but he had to be tougher than this, right?
But this wasn't a stunt to face. This wasn't fighting off Tom Ryder and Gail as they helicopter dangerously over the Metalstorm set—this was Ryland.
And Ryland had called him and Court, who'd immediately made his way to Australia after hearing that his brother had been framed for murder, saying that he was going to be forced into space without his consent.
Court, for his part, nearly threw the phone out the window after hearing Ryland's hysterical sobs, knowing damn well his brother wasn't lying—he'd never willingly volunteer for this.
It had taken a lot of strings pulled, cajoling from Colt, and favors that people had owed Court that the brothers were on the next flight to Kazakhstan, specifically where Ryland had said the Petrova Taskforce had been, where the launch was.
"They're strapping him to a rocket, just because he's what, good at what he does?" Colt stews, pacing the floor in a frantic back and forth. "He gets airsick! What are they thinking, he'll be—" He cuts himself off with an aborted scream, fist slamming into one of the chairs.
"Terrified." Court finishes, and while he wasn't pacing the floor like Colt was, his molars are audibly grinding.
He'd told Ryland to call him in an emergency. At first, Court had assumed that he'd call to say hello—the normal Ryland, always checking in on him.
But he never did.
And the one time he called, Ryland was fleeing for his life. My brother is in danger, again, and I did nothing!
Why on Earth would Court believe otherwise?
Because I didn't want to think that he'd be. Colt and Court had made it their damn mission to make sure Ryland never experienced what they did—hell, Ryland probably didn't know about Tom Ryder.
Court knew he should have been there. Like he did for Colt, dropped into Kazakhstan, been his bodyguard, something.
But what he could do now? Get his brother back, and safe, by any means necessary?
That was just the start for Court.
"Please, I said no!" The cry tears from Ryland Grace's throat as he's outside, sprinting through the grass in the misty morning—footsteps pounding after him, never stopping.
They hadn't stopped running—hunting him. Him. Through the hallways of the facility, and out into the dewy grass after he did, needles drawn.
We can't have you sabotaging the mission, Doctor Grace. And this isn't an option.
Stratt's words bounce through Grace's mind as he runs, crying out to his pursuers that he wanted a choice, a word otherwise, but they don't hear it. They don't see him.
All they see is a hapless, runaway astronaut who doesn't know he's meant to do this. Grace knows he's not meant to do any of this.
"Don't do it!" Grace screams, not meaning to whine like this, but what else is he supposed to do? Propriety had been thrown out the window a long, long time ago.
"Ryland!" A familiar, achingly close voice bellows, as Grace nearly trips over his feet hearing the voice. It's—
Court and Colt. Colt's scaling the fence, with Court shortly behind him—his larger frame lapsing his twin's, eyes blazing. "C'mon, Ry, we've got you, you just have to climb, can you do that?" Court calls, voice trying not to break with rage.
Never at Ryland.
They got his calls. They got his calls! If it was them, and they were here, Grace would fly if they asked him to.
"Doctor Grace! You know you can't leave, you're the only one who can do this!" It's Carl, who's among the throng of personnel chasing after him, calling out to him. Like this was about an appeal to ego, a pat on the back for a nervous presenter, instead of being asked to do a suicide mission into space.
And to think I liked him!
Grace leaps his way onto the fence, hitting it with a rattle that makes his teeth chatter and shakes his brothers.
"I'll grab you and pull you over, Ry, just like we've done before!" Colt calls, extending his hand down towards Grace—saving a wretch like him? The irony wasn't lost on Grace, but it had flown out of the picture with adrenaline.
"I'm coming, I'm trying!" Grace calls, scaling up the fence towards the outstretched hand, to his brothers, who'd come all the way here to help him—he couldn't fail now.
…Did the chain link fence just rattle more?
Ryland's coming. Colt stretches as far as he can, offering his hand down to Ryland as he clambers up the fence—though the others are after him, climbing faster than him—
"Come on, come on, you're almost there!" Court calls, and they've done this before, they can do it again. When they weren't dealing with the woes of their childhood, they often fled their father, so fence climbing was nothing new.
Being pursued, however, was.
"Pull me over when I'm up—" They're about to do that, as Ryland's fingers brush Colt and Court's, and they grab his wrists—only for Grace to let out a bloodcurdling scream.
They'd jabbed something into his thigh already. "Don't do it!" Ryland wails, as he's ripped clean from the fence, Colt and Court's hands now gripping empty air.
"You know who you are. You're going to be great." One of them says, as Colt immediately throws himself over the fence.
"You fucking assholes are going to kill him, send someone else!" He cries, Court dropping down beside him, desperate to clear the throng near his baby brother.
"We have no one else." Comes the voice of Eva Stratt, as she crosses the grass to order them to take Ryland away—her gaze locking with theirs. And—
Ryland's gone.
And Colt and Court's hearts shattered.
"You will understand that we had no other choice, gentlemen, your brother is the only expert in Astrophage, and thus needs to be there. We have nothing else without him." Stratt insists, as Court steps between her and Colt, fists clenching as finally, the woman that ordered everything is here.
"No, but what I fucking understand is that you're going to kill my brother by sending him off." Court hisses. "And I'm going to make sure you're not able to." He spits, as Stratt barely flinches.
"I am sure you will. But I do have the backing of several nations, and am ready and willing to be put in prison for this. Are you both?" Stratt asks, glancing between the brothers.
"I do hope you go to prison for this." Colt hisses, immediately tearing across the grass after where they'd taken Ryland, while Court whirls on Stratt.
"You think you're a damn martyr for this, huh?" He challenges, though Stratt, for once, was not inclined to retort.
"No, you're an asshole—Colt was right about that one." Six says, before darting after Colt.
But in a gambit of saving the world, or saving one brother's life—Stratt knew she would take the option to send Grace into space even still.
The brothers would thank Grace for his sacrifice—your brother, being the hero to solve the Astrophage crisis? Most would celebrate.
…Wouldn't they?