Chapter Text
“Ava,” Simon’s words were slightly muffled due to his tears and his distraught state. “We had a deal. You said you’d get me out of here alive.”
Ava was shouting into her speaker. “SIMON! I’m sorry; you don’t deserve this, nobody does. Not the prisoners doing this exact mission before you, not you. But please! Listen to me when I say this! We are counting on you! Please! Just get the box!” Her voice strained, as her vocal cords seemed to hurt from screaming.
“I want to live, not drown in this ocean like everyone else has.” Simon solemnly states, tears falling off his face into the pools of blood below him.
“I know this hurts. To watch your own life get washed away like this, but please. We believe in you. I’m sorry it had to end up like this.”
Simon couldn’t find the words to respond. His heart and limbs ached. He wanted to see his mother for just one last time; that’s all he wanted.
Ava sighed. “This event is bigger than us, bigger than me. The world is relying on you, Simon. I’m sorry.” A shift. “SIMON! PLEASE! THE BOX GET THE BOX OH MY GOODNE-“ Ava’s words were cut off by a strong sound of her ship being destroyed.
Blood bubbled out of Simon’s speaker as a wave of something fierce rushed above him. Ava was dead; there was no doubting.
The only voice Simon had left remained from the eel. “How many more people will you continue to kill? You never contributed anything to this world, only death! You butcher! Everyone looks down upon you!”
“You know what?” Simon asks, “Fuck you! Fuck you and everything you bring!” Simon rams the SM-13 into the eel at a vicious speed, releasing terrible shrieks.
Ava died thinking Simon wasn’t going to get the box, still having vengeance from being tossed down onto this moon. Simon had to do right. There was no lying when Ava said humanity relied on him and that darned box.
As Simon climbs his way into the bilge of the submarine, the only thing visible was bright red blood. “Oh fuck me!” Simon screams, breathing in and out at a rapid pace.
After a few seconds of staring at his future mission, Simon submerges himself in the blood-filled bilge. Besides the ungodly amounts of blood, the low roofing also made it treacherous to crawl through. The taste of iron filled Simon’s mouth as he scrambled to the box.
When contact is found from the box, Simon grunts and groans, trying to free it from whatever was holding it down. No matter how hard he pulled, it seemed like the damn thing just wouldn’t come loose. When distancing himself from the box and pulling harder, he was able to finally pull the box from its compartment, falling into the blood of the bilge as he did.
Simon crawls out of the small area hastily, only to see more blood than he originally saw going down. As he tries to climb out of the hole, it takes an effort to try and gain oxygen and not drown to death via blood. After numerous attempts, Simon is able to force himself out, his face now being entirely coated in blood.
Using the life jacket Simon once deemed useless, he straps the box to it. Struggle comes when not only his fingers are coated in blood but the entire submarine is as well. His compass starts beeping as something seems to be behind him. As quick as Simon can, he clips the box to the life jacket and hurries over to his controls.
On the way there, Simon gets his hands stuck to the submarine wall as he aims to use it for balance. Panic rushes over him as he tries to pull away, accidentally forcing his other limbs onto the fleshy walls of the submarine without thinking. With immense strength, Simon is able to pull his right arm and leg away from the walls. With the need to gain access to his left arm, he forces his right leg back to the submarine wall and pulls hard. He is pushed to the other side of the submarine after his effective pull.
Blood oozes out from Simon’s left arm into the series of blood beneath him. Simon’s left arm is now entirely branched, becoming one with the fleshy walls of the ship. He tries to feel towards his left side to see if his arm was really ripped off or if he was just seeing things. All that remained between his left shoulder and torso was air. Simon groans at the shrieking pain in his shoulder but does not have the energy to scream.
It had been declared from the start that Simon was going to die. This was just the annoying reminder that there was no turning point. He would either die from the intake of carbon dioxide or from drowning in the endless stream of blood, whatever came first. The only bit of hope that remained was for the box, not Simon.
The eel continuously shouts toward Simon that he is nothing. That this ocean of blood will carry him to the depths of it, leaving only his bones to remain. That Simon has been a part of the tiny amount of people that have seen the horrors of this moon. No human has been able to report on AT-5 firsthand, and that would continue to remain the same.
After several grunts, still feeling the aching pain in his side, Simon stumbles over to the navigation panel. More blood enters in through the porthole at increasing rates. With a vigorous and sudden push, Simon is lunged over to the back of his ship, letting out a loud grunt.
As Simon aims to pick himself up after being thrown across the room, he finds himself already being drowned out by blood. The eel continues to bark at Simon. His ship is alive; the eel has total control over it. The words of negativity start to bubble up rancor inside Simon. His fists clench up as he continues to be swallowed by blood.
“The butcher? Oh you want the butcher? FINE!!” Grabbing a nearby fire extinguisher, he slams apart the pillars made of flesh. “COME ON!” More blood discharges out from the flesh, contributing even more to the blood beneath Simon. No matter how weak Simon felt, he continued to slash away, sending hot, steamy blood all over the walls.
Once, being called a butcher was all Simon could stress over. No matter how much he tried to dismiss it and claim it wasn’t him, he knew he was responsible for Filament station. 62 people were dead due to Eden. But in this very moment, Simon would kill to be called “butcher.” The blood that squirts out sends him into a spiral, only making his malice grow.
The blood starts to drown out Simon. As he is tossed to the floor, he cannot seem to gain oxygen flow from the overwhelming amounts of blood around him. No matter how hard he tried, the liquid of this ocean was too much.
Everything goes black from there on out.
Simon had no chance of survival; he was officially dead.
Somewhere, in this dark, vast void, there must be hope for humanity.
——————————————-
The trip to Erid wasn’t all as bad as Grace imagined it would be.
Yes, the trip wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Grace was insanely malnourished from both the Taumoeba and just not eating in general. Rocky is insanely concerned over Grace’s condition, but he pushes him away and tells him not to worry.
Another problem Ryland has been having recently is that he’s homesick. All of his students are around in their late 20s right now. God, would he do anything to see them. Rocky wasn’t bad company, not at all. Grace just wished he were able to have a human interaction with someone. It has been decades since he’s talked to a human. Ryland should have realized how valuable moments like that were all those years ago.
Once again, though, the trip could be worse. I mean the ship could randomly have some major malfunction and run out of fuel. Okay, that’s a terrible thought that Grace is not going to have. It could be a strange possibility, though.
Grace wakes up early that day to see Rocky lying by his side, watching him sleep. He’s grown used to the entire culture of Eridians watching one another sleep; in fact, he’s grown fond of it. Plus, Rocky and his blazing atmosphere being covered by Xenonite are a perfect heater, especially in a cold spaceship.
“Morning Grace friend.” Rocky says, kindly welcoming Grace up.
“Ahh..good morning, Rock. How was the night? Did I snore at all?” Ryland asks sarcastically, running his fingers through his hair.
“Grace always snore. No surprises.” Rocky chirps back.
“You’re always getting on my case, Rock.”
“No understand phrase.”
“It means you’re always bossing me around.”
“Oh. Understand.”
The day was pretty typical from then. Ryland starts his day with a cup of coffee from Armando, creating small talk with Rocky while doing so. Grace then proceeds to continue to show Rocky Minesweeper on his computer as he had days prior. It is quite hysterical watching an alien understand human concepts. Don’t be fooled, though; Rocky is able to solve an entire puzzle in three minutes tops.
The afternoon consists of nothing special either. Grace sits in the control room as he discusses random topics with Rocky. It’s truly fascinating how interested Rocky is when discussing topics humans do. Usually, these topics are pretty easy to explain to Eridians, for they strike for the same set of rules as humans do. For the most part, anyway. Just with a few spin-offs.
The evening consists of a luxury Taumoeba serving. Though it may have been keeping Grace alive, (barely) it was also killing him to eat pure sludge. Crap, he probably preferred coma slurry over this sorry excuse for food.
After this long day, Grace hops back into bed as Rocky watches over him. Unless any unexpected matter were to occur, Grace should sleep soundly for the next several hours.
Grace has a nice dream, one that seems to be occurring over and over. One where he is able to receive human contact. Reminders come from when Stratt would even just tap him on the shoulder to remind him of something. Or when Olesya pulled him to tell a crappy joke. Though the reminders are comforting, it also makes Grace remember that until the day he dies, he will never receive human touch again. Ouch.
As Grace was about to be pulled into another section of his dream, he felt a heavy weight on top of him, scrambling.
Barely awake, Grace hears Rocky nervously yelling, “Grace Grace Grace! Danger! Foreign body! Danger Danger Danger!” The weight of Rocky practically stabbed into Ryland’s side.
Ryland could hear remarks from Mary. That constant “foreign body” was annoying; he just wanted to go back to bed.
Crap! Grace isn’t thinking right! There’s something in danger; he’s got to go see what it is, not go back to bed! Rocky was right when he said humans are dumb when tired!
He practically runs out of the dormitory, Rocky running by his side. The alert was still repeating over and over. “Mary! Where’s the foreign body located?” Ryland is panting as he speaks.
“In the storage room, Dr. Ryland Grace.”
As Grace starts to run toward the direction of the storage room, the floor is only coated in one liqud— blood. Grace’s eyes widen as his running comes to a halt.
“No good Grace! No good!” Rocky seems to be as terrified as Grace was.
Grace takes a massive, quick deep breath and opens the storage room.
Holy shit.
There sits a man. One arm and entirely coated in blood. Unconscious.
What the fuck?