Work Text:
“I wanna take Carl.”
“You cannot take Carl.”
“Why can’t I take Carl?”
“Because he enables you.”
“He does not - Carl, do you enable me?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“I wanna take Carl.”
The flight deck crew of Stratt’s Vat are professionals. They do not eavesdrop on their bosses instead of doing their jobs. They are professionals. They can eavesdrop on their bosses while doing their jobs. Multitasking is a very important skill to have.
Director Stratt and Dr. Grace are walking quickly across the flight deck, Carl easily keeping pace behind them. Willis and Mar share an amused look across the fuel line. Dr. Grace is flying to Australia within the hour to attend an Atrophage summit in Sydney. He is, of course, the keynote speaker. And he wants to take Carl.
“His name is on the paper! He was instrumental to the process! Pleeease pleasepleaseplease please let me take Carl.”
“...”
“I’ll do whatever you want for a month.”
“You already do whatever I want.”
“Dang. Thought I could getcha with that one.”
“Really?”
“No,” Dr. Grace admits, then appears to think very hard for a moment. Then he does the clap. The Dr. Grace Clap. Mar smiles at the sight: she hasn’t seen it in a while. “I’ll be your best frieeeend!”
“You already are.”
“Awww!”
“Stop that.”
But no, really: awww.
“Pretty pretty please,” Dr. Grace asks in a slow, measured tone, “can I take Carl?”
Director Stratt stops walking and stares at him. He meets her gaze calmly for several long beats.
“You cannot take him on stage with you.” Director Stratt starts walking again. Dr. Grace fist-pumps with a victorious grin and high-fives Carl. They follow along after Director Stratt. As they get further away, Dr. Grace’s voice drifts faint towards Mar.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou - “
She grins, and returns her full attention to the fuel line.
“You can’t go in there!”
Serena pauses with one hand on the door handle of the biology lab. One of Dr. Grace’s engineers is to her right, looking panicked.
“I need to see Dr. Grace. Is something…wrong?” God, she hopes not. The biology lab is quite possibly the worst place for things to go wrong. For one, that’s where they keep the largest quantity of Astrophage. For two - and more importantly - that’s where Dr. Grace spends most of his time. They can make more Astrophage, they cannot make more of Dr. Grace.
“No, nothing’s wrong. Dr. Grace is asleep,” the engineer says meaningfully, like this is extremely important information.
Because it is.
“He is?” Serena exclaims, then quickly slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She and the engineer stare at each other, both holding their breath. About a minute passes with no sound from the lab. Serena lowers her hand and stage-whispers, “He is?”
The engineer nods quickly, expression very serious. “Yes. He fell asleep doing math. As soon as we noticed, we initiated the proper protocols. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back later.”
“Of course,” Serena answers in an equally serious, understanding tone, “this is more important. Thank you for catching me in time; I’ll pass it around that the bio lab is off limits.”
“The email already went out. It’s part of the protocols.”
“You guys are doing good work. Thank you,” she says, turning to head back to engineering. Then she pauses and turns back, “How long has he been asleep, out of curiosity?”
“Two and a half hours,” the engineer answers, pride shining in his eyes. Serena grins.
“Great job.”
“Thanks.”
It is Dr. Grace’s birthday tomorrow. Everyone is kind of freaking out about it. They’ve been talking about it for a month and they still have no idea what to get him. The first thought was, of course, sour skittles. Enough to pack his office with. But Dr. Grace is the only one with access to sour skittles. So that’s out.
Then one of the flight crew suggested a cake, but that was quickly dismissed. A simple cake was not special enough for Dr. Grace. People suggested fidget toys, shirts with dumb science puns, cute cardigans, a glasses chain made of stars. Good ideas, but they all ran into the same problem: how would they get them? Stratt’s Vat did not do shore leave, and it definitely didn’t do Amazon delivery, same-day or otherwise. All shipments to the Vat were heavily vetted and monitored, with only Director Stratt and Dr. Grace having final approval.
So here they were: every team lead on the ship crammed into a corner of the Mess, furiously whispering about what the hell they were going to do for Dr. Grace’s birthday. Which was tomorrow.
“Maybe we should just ask her? I mean, she cares about Dr. Grace too,” Dr. Katsuki suggests. His proposal is met with a few seconds of silence, then more whispering.
“Right, but wouldn’t she think it’s silly - “
“We didn’t do anything for her birthday, what if she feels - “
“Okay, but ask her for what? The skittles thing, or - “
“Do you want to be the one to ask her? ‘Cause I don’t.”
“I’ll do it,” Dr. Rodriguez says suddenly at normal volume, with all the gravitas of Frodo volunteering to take the Ring to Mordor. “I’ll ask her.”
And they’re back to whispering.
“Serena, are you sure? We could figure something else out - “
“Can we? He deserves better than a banner and some last-minute arts and crafts. Do we even have arts and crafts?”
“Okay, again, what are we asking for? The skittles? The shirts? We have to decide that before anything else.”
They go with the skittles. One package for every crew member involved in Project Saving Grace: which is everyone, except the leadership team. They also decide to ask for post-it notes. The gesture itself is symbolic, but Dr. Grace deserves something more personal.
The team leads watch with baited breath as Serena pulls out her tablet and types out the email. They all take turns checking it over. When it gets back to Serena, she takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and hits send.
“And we’re away,” Major Rochana from the flight team whispers gravely. Then he smiles. “How’s that for a Hail Mary?”
From: [email protected]
Done. Touchdown at 0100. He will be occupied until 0300. Make it work.
Serena grins down at her tablet, then steps out of her office and into the Engineering lab to shout, “PSG is go, people! Touchdown at 0100, our window is two hours! Boss Lady says make it work, so that’s exactly what we’ll do! Capice?”
“Caposh!”
Her grin is mirrored on her team’s faces. She forwards the email to the other team leads, then sets down her tablet. “Let’s get to work!”
They get to work.
It’s a full mobilization, the likes of which the Petrova Taskforce hasn’t seen since the beginning of the Project. The flight team unloads the jets, the science teams distribute the skittles bags and post-its; and the engineering team carefully arranges them to cover every available space in Dr. Grace’s office, including the ceiling. They do it all in total silence. They don’t know exactly how their First Officer is being occupied, after all; and too much chatter could compromise the entirety of Project Saving Grace. Dr. Grace has very good hearing.
It takes an hour and thirty seven minutes. Director Stratt’s word is the law on this ship: they make it work.
Dr. Grace is clearly surprised to see the entire biology team still in the lab by the time he gets back.
“Jeez, guys,” he says from where he’s paused in the doorway, “burning the candle at both ends tonight, huh? Did I miss something?”
“Nothing major, Dr. Grace. One of Director Stratt’s aides left something on your desk, though.”
Dr. Grace sighs, shaking his head; but he’s smiling. “Science never rests, I guess.”
He moves towards his office while his team tries very hard not to make it obvious they’re watching every step. Or that Armando is surreptitiously recording.
(The ethics of recording Dr. Grace without his consent had been debated at length amongst the team leads. In the end they reasoned that - just this once, and only once - it was warranted.)
Dr. Grace opens the door to his office and freezes. His back is to the lab, no-one can see his face. His team is equally still, waiting for his reaction.
He bends down to pick up one of the skittles bags and read the post-it note attached.
“You guys,” he says, trying for fond exasperation. He’s too choked up for it to land, though. On cue, the biology team take out their handmade party hats and pull the string to unfurl the banner hung from the ceiling. And right on cue, Dr. Grace turns.
“Happy Birthday, Dr. Grace!” the biology team cheers. The rest of Stratt’s Vat - watching over Armando’s livestream - also cheers, even though he can’t hear them. There are tears streaming down his cheeks even as he grins ear-to-ear. He laughs in delight. He does the Dr. Grace Clap.
His sniffles, and wipes at his face, knocking his glasses askew.
“Thank you,” he says, fresh tears spilling down his face. “Thank you guys…so much.”
And the entirety of Stratt’s Vat watching with grins on their faces and tears in their eyes, thinks to themselves, “No, Dr. Grace: thank you. For everything.”
Six years later, Dr. Ryland Grace - amnesiac - opens a bag of his personal effects aboard the Hail Mary. Inside is a handful of t-shirts with dumb science puns, a single polaroid, and two-hundred and seventy three half faded post-it notes containing well-wishes and heartfelt thank-yous. And this is how Ryland Grace discovers that on Earth, he is loved.