Archive of Our Own

Carl had thought that it would hit him much later. The launch pad was solemn and cold. A chilly breeze that made one think maybe the weather knew too, that those being sent to space would not return. Or maybe more specifically that Ryland Grace would not return. 

The air was cold, but not cold enough that the launch would be unsuccessful. And not cold enough for Carl to have to bounce around giddily or rub at his arms through a thick coat. Just cold enough that it felt as though the earth knew what was happening. A sorrowful chill. 

Yao’s family had stood with statuesque expressions, staring up into the sky as their husband or dad became a tiny dot at the end of a great puffy trail of white. Having already cried every day leading up to now. Having already accepted thoroughly this new reality that they were facing. They were prepared to be stone-faced and proud on this day. Ilyukhina’s parents stood in a similar fashion, pinched faces and rigid stances. A million conversations with their daughter bouncing around in their heads. Many profound goodbyes and lengthy discussions having already been had. All the things one would do if given the prior knowledge of their imminent death and extraordinary task. Bucket list completed. 

Grace probably had a gazillion more bucket list boxes to check. And Grace had nobody on the launchpad. And Carl had known he wouldn’t. Had figured, actually, that Carl himself would be Grace’s somebody on the launchpad. That had been part of the appeal of Grace as the replacement. To Stratt, it had been virtually a no-brainer. Which wasn’t exactly the amount of thought one would hope a person would have when picking out a human to sacrifice. But Carl had known this. He had seen first hand who Ryland Grace was closest to. His coworkers and his students. And that one barista he always chatted with before their long days of experimenting with the astrophage. The list ended there. 

No significant other. No living relatives.. as far as he could tell? At least none that cared what Grace was up to. No children, no pets, nobody depending on him. Except in a role where he was dispensable. A school teacher. No doubt noble, but easily replaced. Carl understood all of this. He spent many days understanding this while he and Grace ‘made a baby’ so to speak. 

But there was something to be said about the concept being easier to handle than the actual realized picture of it all, out there on the launchpad. The lack of anybody schooling a fake calm expression for Grace. It was almost nonsensical. Yao’s family and Ilyukhina’s family lined up next to each other, and then, just Carl. Carl who knew Grace for only this short phase of his life, and Carl who helped send him to the guaranteed end of it. 

Bonded by their impending doom and the blind race for the prize, their relationship, as intimate as it had grown to be, held no grounds outside of the unique context of their meeting. There was nobody here that knew Grace in a more profound way, as close as Carl knew they became, the Grace he knew yesterday may be a completely different Grace compared to the one he met many months ago. He never saw Grace as a student, or graduating, or getting his first job, he had no parents here to see off their little boy. No lifelong friends to remember college parties, to make any tasteless comparisons between space flight and drugs. And no official partner here to wave goodbye to hundreds of beautiful days together. No sibling to recall specific silly moments or mistakes. Nobody who knew Grace as Ryland first. Only one half of a situationship that had a hand in sending him away. Carl felt unworthy. Standing next to Yao and Ilyukhina’s families this way. Like a friend or a lover. Guilty in a way that he wasn’t sure would get to him just yet. 

But he was not Eva Stratt. He couldn’t handle this kind of thing as certain and unrelenting as she seemed to. He knew the stakes, the trade off, the facts. But somehow that did not make it feel better to watch an unconscious and terrified Grace go to space. And it didn’t feel good knowing the last thing he uttered had been Carl’s name. To Carl. A desperate plea for mercy. Grace’s last feeble attempt at surviving this, had been to reach out to Carl. Crying and squirming on the ground, Carl had kept his pose and face as confident as he could. Wanting to use this moment to instill as much of that in Grace as he could. Just send him off with encouragement at least. It was all he could do. 

And the moment Grace’s eyes fluttered shut, his despair slipping into near blank sleep, Carl had let himself go. He had brought his hands up to cradle his own face and he had turned around to stare through his fingers at the overgrown grass. Momentarily uncaring about all of his colleagues who were no-doubt watching. He had tried very hard not to let any tears fall, and he had convinced himself that he would not feel the brunt of this horrible moment until Grace was already very very far away. All this to say, he had attempted to bottle all of it up for later. 

Later, he had hoped, would be far after the launch day. But there he was on the pad with his tie blowing terribly hard in the wind, whipping against his chest, with tears flying from his eyes. Unlike Yao’s family and Ilyukhina’s family, Carl outwardly cried. Helplessly and almost furiously, that this had been what was necessary. 

One could almost feel the emptiness. It isn’t helped by the fact that originally, Grace was supposed to be here to watch the launch like all of these other team members. Mission Control, grounded, not going anywhere team members. He was supposed to be here with his glasses dangling off of his face, eyes wide with wonder, his bright yellow jacket catching the wind like a sail. Carl had almost convinced himself that if he turned to his side, he would see him. 

So when he looked and instead saw a grim yet hopeful Stratt staring upwards and away, his chest felt like it had been crushed. 

And, so, Carl had thought it would hit him much later. Those bottled up emotions from when Grace had been sobbing into the grass, begging to live— bursting out of him as the Hail Mary grew harder and harder to see. Carl had thought he would cry like this months from now, in the privacy of his own home, overtaken by the overwhelming and sudden realization that his friend was truly gone. Or maybe even, years and years from now, when Grace was mathematically confirmed to be deceased. Instead, it rushed out of him right on launch day. In front of everyone he had been working with for as long as he had done anything worthwhile. 

Ryland Grace’s very noticeable absence clawed at him. His enthusiasm and brilliance and quirky endearing behaviours were painfully missing. He should be here, Carl thought. He should be here next to me down on the ground. He is not an astronaut, Carl had told himself. Reminded himself. As though he had ever once thought Grace was anything other than a normal, very happily earthbound man. In all of the best ways. He was a dreamer, sure, but never a person who wished to be up and away. Not like Yao and Ilyukhina, who were willing to give their lives on earth up. Probably stargazing since they were little, hoping to one day be among them. 

Grace was passionate. And people mistook that for dismissiveness. Hazy-headedness. And it made him into a divisive person. So divisive that he was forcibly removed from his job in the big leagues. He abandoned his post and cuddled himself up into a cozy, charitable, productive alternative career path, one that was equally fulfilling and maybe less infuriating. The most grounded route a person could take. Who were they all to assume him up in the clouds? Having ideas had never made a person inherently disconnected. Chasing a theory didn’t make somebody untethered from those that had already been proven. Grace’s life wasn’t less valuable just because he was passionate. Just because he was passionate and it made people avoid him. Misunderstand him. Leave him alone. Just because he didn’t have anybody here on the launchpad. It didn’t mean the Grace that Carl never knew, didn’t matter. The Grace that nobody here would recognize. A little boy. A curious teenager. A stressed and fired up young adult. Nobody here knew him. Them. 

It was an ache. A terrible ache knowing that the last several years, or, really, god knows how many years of Grace’s life were spent by his lonesome. A a result of big ideas, maybe, he was navigating the world on his own. He was shockingly lonely for such a charming man with a million jokes and the best listening ear. And Carl would never get to know why he was all by himself. He would never get to understand how exactly that provocative angry Grace fled to be an elementary teacher. There was nobody there on the pad to confirm if it had always been a dream of his. If he had always been destined for the classroom. His life story had hundreds of dead ends. Carl would never ever get answers. No confirmation for any of his many thoughts about it. 

The picture of a younger Grace, angry and beautifully passionate at that conference in Denmark, it might be a faded illustration in many of the scientists heads. But they didn’t truly know that Grace. And nobody here truly knew that Grace, or the Grace they got to meet here many years later. Not even Carl. Carl who tried his hardest to know him. It still felt as though the world was only left with the memory of a very small sliver of Ryland Grace. Like the rest of his story had been violently snatched away forever. Like the rest of him didn’t matter. A made-to-order astronaut. One that had never once dreamed of being an astronaut. 

It wasn’t even fair for Carl to defend him this way. To wish that Grace had more people out here for him. Carl had been a cog in the machine that had picked Grace up and thrown him away. With a great big bomb strapped to his chest, a sudden expiration date and the responsibility to save all of humanity. The heavy burden of your entire species and planet’s survival along with a guaranteed death date. How could Carl spend the launch mourning Grace’s social life, his family life, his love life. He was a hypocrite. And it felt rotten. 

Carl had known Grace was not an astronaut when he carried out what Stratt had ordered. When he had watched Grace clamber up the fence in a flurry of panic and then promptly get caught in a chase that must have only lasted three minutes. The present moment crashed down in a hideous way, and Carl found that he could no longer look up. 

How long had that chase felt for Grace? Had he been thinking of anybody at that moment? Any past friends he wished he still knew? People who stopped supporting him? Students he wishes he wished luck? Or said goodbye to? Did he think of Carl? 

Stratt turned, a curious but serious expression on her face. Carl thought for a moment that she would only silently judge him, but instead, she decided to speak. 

“Alright?” She murmured, almost as though now that the ship had taken off, she could take on her human form again. The mission on its way out to deep space a comfort to her, the knowledge that she had carried out her plan. 

“Mm,” Carl grunted out, in between deep shivering breaths through a cupped palm. He could not be sobbing right now in this crowd. Not right next to Yao’s poor family. Trying their absolutely hardest to keep it together and treat this as the proud day it is. 

But Carl can’t help it. For Grace this is not a proud day. This is tragic. This is all of the goodbyes he wasn’t able to give. All of the conversations he didn’t get to have. All of the preparations he didn’t get to make. Was his home back in San Francisco left tidy by the agents who went through it after Carl? Would Grace want it to have been? Did he care about that sort of thing? Did he have unsent letters or rotting food in the fridge? It was eerie to imagine all of the places Grace left a mark on, that would never feel his touch again. His dim apartment flashed through Carl’s mind, the fifteen minute visit Carl had made, only to grab Grace’s clothes and a couple small items to send with him for his own comfort. 

A small fox keychain that had been dangling from the middle of a book on Grace’s counter. A book he wouldn’t finish unless Carl swiped it up and sent it along too, which he of course did. A handful of silly t-shirts, each goofier and lamer than the last. All of which had Carl huffing and chuckling to himself while reading and folding. Ignoring strange looks from the other agents. A few bags of sour skittles. Various cards from Grace’s students. And then Carl had left, in a rush, to get all of these things to Mission Control for them to weigh and organize. Five other men behind him still invading Grace’s private space. Emptying it all out? To go to storage? The landfill? A distant relative that probably hadn’t known Grace since infancy? Carl still couldn’t look up at the Hail Mary. Could only imagine Grace’s presumably ransacked apartment through blurry eyes. 

“Carl,” Stratt tried again, even offering out a hesitant arm. She tried to place a hand on his shoulder, careful and comforting. Carl nearly dodged it, unable to handle all of this right now. It was too much. 

“He’s gone and..” Carl struggled to get it out, more sniffles and bubbly vowels than full words. Stratt’s expression grew profoundly disturbed, her frown deepening in a way that made her whole face look heavy on her skull. “Just like that..” 

“Carl,” Stratt repeated, rubbing at his shoulder in this awkward mechanical way. Very Stratt. 

“He’ll wake up.. confused and..” Carl tried to choke out, and it was still escaping him in small bursts in between gasps. 

“Carl, it’s done,” Stratt said, unhelpfully. Almost cruelly, however true. “It’s done and he’s going to save us. They all will.” 

Her belief is outstanding. The sheer unshakable belief that she is right about him. About them as a crew, the plan in general, the technology they’ve used to keep them all alive to even make it to Tau Ceti E. Carl tried very hard to cling onto this belief, or even replicate it in himself. And it was there in some way, in those words he gave Grace before he conked out. You know who you are. You’re going to do great. Carl believed that. But there were also an innumerable number of things that could go wrong. Things that had absolutely nothing to do with Grace’s ability. And, in the end, whether Earth was saved or not, Grace’s story was now fated to end early. 

Earlier and much more confusing and overwhelming than the petty resources squabble that will surely come to pass on Earth. Grace had known the options, and he had turned down this opportunity. He had wanted thirty more years of teaching, of watching the sun rise and set, drinking fresh coffee and cycling to work. Maybe saving enough money to eliminate that last part. He had known it would go sour. He knew that eventually the sunrises would be darker and the world would be colder and he would be thinner. He knew that and he still wanted to stay and cherish the time he had left. Now he was given a measly few years of hard hard work. Isolated and frightened and untrained in deep space. Far away from able to cherish any more earthly moments. His life was effectively already over. What remained was simply a task. An unfamiliar environment that was restrictive and extremely dangerous. And a world altering task. That was what remained for Grace. 

He was unconscious now, heading up out of the atmosphere, and Carl could only keep his hand over his mouth, stare at his own feet, and hope that what Grace is experiencing right now is at least restful. 

Let it not be a blink. A quick light turning on and off. One moment tackled into the grass, the next the furthest anybody had ever been away from said greenery. Carl gasped at the thought, still trying to stifle his crying. Stratt’s hand firm on his shoulder, but still now instead of rubbing. As though she had sponged up his despair, his feelings for Grace spilling out on the launchpad and infecting her. Let it please be a long dreamy sleep full of joyful memories. Please please please. Let the thirty years more of earthly wonders be encapsulated in his sleep. Earth’s beauty in all of its forms. Joyous and not so much. Everything Grace wanted to see. Let it come to him in his dreams. Carl gasped again, shaky and struggling. Like his lungs couldn’t possibly inflate further. 

There were people looking at him then. Concerned yet curious. Especially public guests, news reporters and civilians. Those on the project ground team were actually almost purposefully looking away. Still staring directly up. How could they do it? Carl had asked himself. How could they watch? They all had close memories with Grace. Working with him, dancing beside him at the bar on board the helecarrier, listening to him fumble through meetings. 

The civilians watching Carl harboured sympathetic expressions. Some also teary eyed. From their perspective, it was likely incredibly emotional that these three self-sacrificial heroes were setting off to save them all. It was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time, certainly. But they didn’t know what Carl knew, or what Carl did, and he found that he couldn’t meet their eyes or return their nods. His pupils, uncontrolled, darted away from these audience members. 

A woman holding a baby wearing comically big earmuffs came over to try to comfort him then. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it? They’re incredible. So brave,” She said, a tear slipping down her face too. And Carl couldn’t look at her, could only keep silently crying, lips pursed. What would she say if she saw how they had cornered Grace at the fence? Would it still be beautiful? Carl could feel his own shoulders shaking. He could feel Stratt’s hand lose grip and slide off, almost with an air of understanding. 

“It’s emotional, though. I understand,” The mother said. A strand of her hair flying in the wind, tickling her baby’s little nose. And her little baby smiled and giggled, blissfully ignorant and likely not hearing a thing. 

She didn’t understand at all. How could she? Would the public ever know that Ryland Grace was sent up against his will? 

Did this mother have a husband at home? Out working? Would she be able to stare up in quiet awe if he had given his life for this? Would it still be beautiful? Was it wrong for Carl to think that even Yao and Ilyukhina’s sacrifice lacked beauty? That their desperation as a species was anything but? 

Was it selfish to demean their accomplishments this way? To put Ilyukhina and Yao’s honourable send off in the shadow of Grace’s tragic demise? Should Carl have been focusing on the good bits? The fact that Grace was undoubtedly the most suited? That once Grace realized his situation he would almost certainly be a great asset? Should Carl have been happy that the three that they sent up became at least somewhat close in the process of preparation? Should he have been glad that they did not have to send up a stranger? Should he have been more confident? Sure? Amazed? Relieved? 

Carl had really thought he’d be able to hold it all together for a lot longer than this. That the breakdown would come in his middle age, when the beatles eventually hopefully returned to earth. But he couldn’t even make it to when Grace left earth. Now that he was crying, he really couldn’t stop. And he couldn’t even bring himself to feel silly. They’d just sent a man to his death, and he had cried and begged for another way. 

Ilyukhina and Yao were willing participants. Heros, eager martyrs, families and friends be damned. Grace was a man who was more or less alone in life, and had not been lended the right to choose. Who knew if he wanted more from the thirty years they had left? So what if the last several were bound to be torture? Who was to say if Grace would find somebody by then? Form a great friend group whom he loved? Return to teaching and find fulfillment there? Who was to decide what kind of circle a person required to be missed? Grace had chosen those potential pathways. He had known the last several years would likely be torture. Starving. 

The thought of Grace waking up in space and realizing that his life ended when he still lived in a single person apartment. No animal. No parents to deliver baked goods to. No partner. No friends over for regular game nights. It was a horrible horrible thought. And while Carl felt defensive about Grace’s choices, his (what appeared to be) lonely lifestyle, he also felt his heart shatter for him. All of the plans he may have had. A house he had dreamt of one day owning. A hobby he never picked up. A person he had the hots for. It was all down the drain against his will. The plug had been pulled while he screamed and cried and tried to push it back in. 

The mother with the baby seemed to sense Carl’s unwillingness, or inability, to respond. She pursed her lips and looked back up away from him. The baby reached over her shoulder to paw at Carl’s arm. His hand still covered his mouth. He let his eyes flick up to see the baby’s happy face. 

Grace would save this child. If they hadn’t sent Grace up there, this baby would have a life expectancy lower than Grace himself. Carl felt his face crumple up again. And the baby seemed to realize that he was sad, and it began to cry too. Its tiny chubby hand clenched and unclenched a few times in a small fist it didn’t know what to do with. Carl felt his chest ache. 

Did Grace want children? He was so good with them. Did he think it would be too much work to have his own? Did his enthusiasm for cradling the next generation bloom strictly at his workplace? Did he stop caring when he went home? 

Or did he come home to his quiet apartment and stand idly in the dark, imagining the space babyproofed. Layers of duct tape on every corner. Foam protectors. Outlet covers. Small toys on the living room floor. Did Grace stand in the kitchen and tear up imagining baby food in his cabinet? Did he crawl into bed wondering what it might be like for a cradle to be set up next to it? 

Carl clenched at his chest like he was having a heart attack, and the baby began to wail. It was his fault, and he did feel bad, but it also felt cathartic to feel somebody else exhibit the right response to this horrific tragedy. The baby pounded its little fists on its mother’s shoulder, light and unable to do any damage. Carl’s cruel brain related this useless effort to Grace’s attempt to flee. 

His kicking under the weight of so many officers. The grass cutting into his face. His yellow jacket a beam of colour in their dull serious environment. 

The mother cooed and tickled her baby, attempting to calm him. She bounced him lightly in her arms as the wind picked up around them. Some people had began to leave the pad. 

“I’m — s-sorry,” Carl choked out, not allowing himself to cringe at the weakness in his voice. He was allowed to be weak right now. This was no doubt the weakest moment of his entire life. He had just sent a man to die. He glanced at Stratt. She looked as strong as she had ever been. And she looked like all of the things Carl couldn’t make himself feel. Relieved, the biggest of all. 

“Oh nonsense,” The mother responded, although she was turning so that her baby could no longer see Carl’s wilting expression. He understood that it was upsetting. But he wished, horribly, that the mother too would cry. “Don’t apologize. Please feel what you need to feel.” 

The mother hesitated, looking at Carl again as he pinched his own nose with a pocket tissue. It was no use. He was leaking from every facial orifice. 

“Did you… know them?” She asked, her eyes cast down for a moment to Carl’s suit. It was telling. His folded up ID badge was kept safe in the inside pocket of his coat, it wasn’t as though he wore a name tag. But it was clear nonetheless that he was a worker here at the preparation site. The mother blinked a couple times, seemingly realizing the intensity of her question.

Carl could only nod, the tears coming in tenfold. The mother gaped, and teared up too. Her baby settling down just in time for her to start to cry instead. 

“I’m so so sorry,” The mother whispered, as though her baby would understand the implications. Carl only shook his head, finding himself completely incapable of offering any verbal reply. “I see this is not a beautiful day for you.” 

Carl shook his head again. 

“Your ..” he sniffled, and then took in a great amount of the cold air. Could he get through this sentence without his voice breaking? “Your baby ..will grow up. That is beautiful.” 

The mother instantly sobbed. And Carl tried very hard to keep a brave face for her, but he broke down a moment later and covered his quivering mouth once more. 

“You believe in them this much?” The mother asked, wiping the wetness from her face. 

“We have to,” Stratt chimed in, finally letting go of Carl. Whatever infection he had briefly gotten her with had long since disappeared. Her usual calculated hope was very much present. 

“You are - a-allowed to be happy,” Carl told the mother, taking one last look at the chubby baby with its cute red cheeks and its cartoonishly large ear muffs. The mother gave him a heavy expression, her eyes large and knowing. 

“Just as you are allowed to be sad. You must have been.. close,” The mother’s voice shook on the last few words. 

Carl nodded, because he couldn’t voice his connection with Grace or any of them out loud. Not with the role he played. 

Carl hadn’t looked up in many minutes, but he knew the ship must have been long gone. The crowd had really started to dissipate, leaving many large patches of turf and cement visible from Birds Eye view. Only small dots of people remained. Employees, crew family members. Carl. 

Stratt had left, somehow. Carl didn’t know how. And he felt a hot burn of distaste run through him when he heard her footsteps get quieter. He felt as though if he moved a muscle, if he took one step off of this platform, it became real. It became permanent. For now, this was only a moment. The Hail Mary a small piece of a much larger puzzle. A project. An assignment. The second he left, he would be headed somewhere else. A new job, a new future. And Grace would no longer be at the forefront of his mission. He would be a memory that Carl would have to keep alive. 

Here on this launch pad, everybody was a supporter. Everybody knew Grace. Or they were thinking about Grace. By name or by experience, he was of utmost importance here. Carl couldn’t bring himself to let that small bit of community go. It felt impossible. And it felt like once he left this place, nothing would move him ever again. It felt like this was the most he could take. Nothing would surprise him. It didn’t matter if he was assigned to protect any lousy president. Or if aliens landed. Or if their predictions were wrong and the sun suddenly died. Nothing would get him. 

..

Stratt’s return with a warm tea did surprise him. And then he had immediately felt awful for considering her a cold and emotionless individual. And would it have been so bad if she had truly left early and not returned? What was there to stay for if you’re not Carl? If you’re not desperately pretending Grace will stay if you stay? Could he fault her for moving on and moving forward? Shouldn’t that be what they all do? Figure out the next steps for keeping earth warm while their ship of heroes heads out for hope? 

Stratt was the most careful, logical, straightforward person Carl had ever had the pleasure and misfortune of knowing. How could he ever be upset at her for carrying on in being exactly what the world needed? 

She handed him a hot mug with a rubbery sleeve around the middle. He grabbed at the metal instead. And it stung against his hands in that way a hot bath did your feet on a cold day. When the floor left you stinging and freezing in the shocks of hot water. His hands were practically vibrating with the light sparks of pain. He wouldn’t dare remove his palms from the mug. Any pain he felt from here on was to be taken with no complaints. It had only been a number of hours, and the guilt was already knocking on his door. Or barging inside. Or devouring him. Carl wasn’t sure how he ever thought he would make it to his sixties before recognizing his feelings. 

“Careful, please,” Stratt said, moving to remove the mug from his hands again. She snatched it from him and placed both of their drinks on a nearby table to be drank once cooled. She recognized his self-punishment in a matter of seconds. Just when he thought she was done surprising him. The tea bag tags danced in the wind, their attaching strings trapped between the lids of the mugs. Carl thought of Grace’s moonlit hair waving in the stormy weather of the helecarrier deck.  

“None of that Carl, please,” Stratt said. And Carl looked over once more to see that much more of the audience was gone. Including many staff members. Ilyukhina’s parents and Yao’s family still stood still many metres away. “I thought you could take this.” 

He felt angry then, that she was belittling him for feeling this way. He did take it. He didn’t object. He listened to her decision and he followed through. His team caught Grace, and sent Grace away forever. He absolutely did take it. Was there anybody in this world who could do what Carl did and then leave this place with a smile? What did she want from him?! 

“I did take it,” he voiced, desperately. Stratt blinked. “It’s done.” 

“Carl,” Stratt tried. “Don’t hurt yourself for this. We will have saved the world. Do you know how many families that is? How many Graces that is?” 

Carl couldn’t help it. He turned sharply, his coat whipping up dramatically as he crashed his face into both of his hands. He was facing directly away from her now. And he wished he had been holding the tea she brought so that he could have thrown it. 

“I can’t stand that, Eva,” Carl said. 

“What?” She asked, unfazed by his outburst, but still somehow sounding concerned. 

“When you calculate what’s worth what. Who’s life is equal to who’s life and— how you told him he’s worth less because he’s alone?” Carl said, muffled into his palms. And he could feel Stratt behind him, stood extra still. He didn’t want to tell her this, because he knew that she was already aware of how despicable it was. 

“… I have to think this way,” Stratt said. “I have to say these things. You know that. It’s what is necessary.”  

“I know,” Carl said. “But I can’t stand it anyway.” 

It was silent for a moment, only the wind rushing by his ears, and he realized then that it had to have been many hours now. The sun, the damned thing, was now nearly completely gone over the horizon. And it left behind no wonderful orange painting, as the overcast left them in a bed of grey. 

“I took it. I took as much as I could. What was necessary. It’s done. How I feel now is up to me,” Carl said, an attempt to explain himself through many more sobs and gasps. 

Stratt shook her head. 

“I’m not.. telling you not to feel. Just don’t blame yourself for things that are bigger than you,” She said. 

She said it like what they did was bound to happen. Like Grace was destined to go. 

“Or for,” She continued. “Decisions I made. It’s not fair to take it out on yourself.” 

Carl let himself sit with that for a second. But it didn’t last. Nothing eased the pain right now. 

“I’m sure Grace would love to hear what we think is fair and unfair,” Carl said, with a bitterness he didn’t like hearing from himself. But it was their reality. Stratt sighed, but she crossed her arms in this accepting sort of patient way. Like she would stand here while he broke down if only to offer some company. 

It was another minute or two when Carl could speak again, and he still couldn’t look up, even though he knew logically that the Hail Mary was no longer even kind of visible. 

“I just keep hearing him begging us not to do it,” Carl cried, once again cupping a hand over his trembling mouth. He couldn’t bear to look at Stratt’s straight face either. He remained facing away. “I think I will hear him forever.” 

When Stratt didn’t respond, he continued. 

“I keep thinking about what he might have wanted to see or do. Who he was dreaming of meeting one day? Or if he had already.. met them?” Carl cried. “And it’s selfish but, I’m not just- just thinking about what he wanted to do but- maybe also- what I wanted to do with him and-“ 

Carl stopped rambling abruptly only to choke another terrible sob into his hand. He brought his other hand up to pinch between his eyes, catching the tears. It was terrible. It felt like acid. 

“Did he want kids? Did he want a longterm partner? Did he have a dream car? Did he give a shit about that stuff? Was there a country he really wanted to visit? Another paper he wanted to write? A different grade of students he was thinking about teaching? Would he have been able to do all of those things in the next however many years we have?” Carl’s voice was cracking and breaking and he knew it sounded ridiculous but he couldn’t stop. The tears flooding out and splashing at the cement beneath them. A dark puddle of despair forming. He glanced away from it when he saw that it began reflecting the sky. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. 

“And- and- were we meant to pick and choose what’s worth it and what isn’t? What is meant to be? Maybe- our- maybe our fate was to die this way. Starving and hopeless and ..” Carl paused to take a deep shivering breath. “And now we’ve.. well maybe we’ve sent people off to a cold and lonely death for nothing. Maybe they won’t find anything and we will all die anyway. And all that will have changed is that Grace didn’t get to do all the things he wanted to do. And- and instead-“

Stratt finally grabbed him again, a hand on his shoulder once more. From behind. It felt like a burn. 

“Instead we’ve just destroyed the remaining years for a handful of - great people- and- and how does it make sense to send a man who lived a cold lonely life to a cold lonely death? Why is that more fair than sending a person who has seen and done it all? Just because they have people here mourning- and- Grace- Grace didn’t - oh my god-“ Carl broke again, both hands grasping at the fabric covering where his heart was. And he felt like something was being struck and twisted through him.  

“He did,” Stratt said, her burning hot hand rubbing again at his shoulder. “Evidently he did. Have people here to mourn him.” 

“I can’t- I-“ Carl gasped. “You’re right. I can’t take this.” 

“Carl. All of those things you said are possible, okay? It is possible we sent them up for nothing. We will die anyway. And Grace will have missed out on many more happy years,” Stratt said. And Carl’s insides felt like mush, his head a dizzy pot of regrets. Stratt took a breath. “But it is also highly likely that they will succeed. That they will save us. That that baby will live to be elderly. And they will die knowing they have rescued humanity along with all life on earth.” 

“It’s not.. I..” Carl tried to explain, but he couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t tell her that it didn’t matter. That even if they did succeed he would still be mourning Grace’s thirty extra years. Still questioning what life is equal to what. 

“I understand that no matter what happens, you will still feel this way. And I hoped that would not be the case,” Stratt said. “I’m sorry for encouraging intimacy. The nature of the mission forced a certain closeness, and it is now impacting you negatively. I am deeply sorry, Carl.” 

“Don’t- don’t apologize for that- of all things,” Carl threw his hands in the air, unable to contain his frustration now. “I am going to carry every memory I made with him -right here-“

Carl smacked a hand into his own chest. 

“Forever.” 

Stratt stared.

“Knowing him is not what I am upset about. It’s not knowing him anymore, Eva. I’m not.. I’m not wishing I was less attached. I’m not regretting the time I spent with him, okay? And it’s not your fault we happened to get along. And it’s not your fault that I’m good at my job,” Carl said. “I’m wishing that I did more with him. Or that I disobeyed and snuck him out of here. And doomed the earth.” 

Stratt laughed a little, and she turned and grabbed their teas again. 

“Please have some? It has been hours,” She said. This time he grabbed it by the rubber sleeve, and she gave an approving smile. He knew he would probably go home and have a shower so hot that it boiled his skin off, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“I have an idea for you, if you’re up to hearing it,” Stratt said. As he took the first sip of the tea. And he hated even letting himself have it right now. But Grace was not going to be any less dead the next meal. Or the next. Or the next. 

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not really crazy about your ideas right now,” Carl said, wiping at his face. The tears just seemed to keep coming. His face blushed and dry, irritated with all the rubbing. 

“If it helps you forgive yourself,” Stratt said. “I can give you the video footage of Grace’s.. capture.” 

Carl raised a brow, not following. Another tear slipped out. Grace squirming and crying on the ground flashed in front of him. Stratt’s serious face was overlaid by Grace’s pleas and erratic escape attempts. 

“You can release it. Tell the world that Grace wanted to live as they are. Tell them he was very hardworking. Talented. Skilled. That he put in more than anybody else on the task force did. That he put in more than enough. And that he was unwilling to also give his life. And you can show them that we sent him anyway.” Stratt suggested. “At the risk of making the public think him a coward. Or selfish. It’s your choice. If you have faith they’ll understand him and mourn him as you do, release it.” 

And if she were anybody else, it would have felt like a mockery. Carl was sure. But he knew that she was not egging him on, or daring him. Or any other childish alternative. She was being one hundred percent serious. She believed that the world would turn on him if they knew he wasn’t willing. Or that they would lose confidence and begin to panic, knowing they were in unsure hands. But Stratt knew it didn’t matter now. The Hail Mary was already on its way. Nothing anybody here thought about it mattered at all. 

The idea of releasing it, seeing Stratt potentially go to jail for making what was probably an earth-saving decision- it was not exactly a pretty thought. And it didn’t really make him feel any better. Nor did it make him feel less guilty. But the idea of the world coming together in an outrage for Grace, of everybody knowing that he was forced, and mourning his thirty more years the same way Carl was; this did make something spark inside of him. 

Would they still build statues and honour him if they knew he was forced to go? That made Carl halt a little bit. 

Should they build statues at all? Was it for the better that the world knew the nature of their desperation? The reality of Ryland’s departure? Grace surely didn’t care about some statues. Or titles. He had only wanted a few extra bike rides to work. 

It felt important. It felt like purpose. And it felt like a way to keep Ryland Grace alive. Suddenly, Carl felt like he could leave this platform. He could release everything to the public, lab recordings from the past several months and all. So they could understand how much work Grace did. How he had already dedicated his life to this project. He could introduce him to the world and show them what they did to him. And he could see the same fire he felt inside himself light up in everyone else. Make the world burn with grief for Ryland Grace. 

And then, whenever he saves their sun, their stars, they will have hopefully recognized him as a tragic hero. Despite everything. And Grace will have not received the thirty years he wanted, but he will have millions, maybe billions more people mourning him. Many more than the zero Stratt had estimated. ‘You don’t even have a dog’ echoed in Carl’s mind as he gazed at Eva. 

No. He will not have a dog. But he will have all of earth backing him if Carl has anything to say about it. 

Stratt must have seen the new purpose liven him, and although the tears kept coming, she no longer reached out to comfort him. She only sipped her tea and looked upwards. Probably considering how her view might change from a jail cell. Her strength was almost as admirable as it was dangerous. 

Carl finally looked up too, and his shoulders shook as he sobbed, the trail from the rocket had probably disappeared hours ago. 

There was absolutely no trace left of Grace on planet earth. That would be changing very soon.