Chapter Text
Annie Shapiro wakes with a start.
The last thing she remembers: the lab at Baikonur, testing the potential errors in the generators. Martin had put in the nanogram of Astrophage and was walking back to the safe viewing area when... She can't remember anything after that. What happened? Was he safe? The launch was in three days, would they make it? Where was sh-
That's... Her room. Not her mobile home at the launch site, not her little place on the Vat. Her room, in her very own apartment, before anything Petrova-related started to happen to her life.
Her hand flies to her phone on the nightstand. It's younger too, missing that crack it got in the corner from falling out of a lab coat pocket.
No time to second-guess herself. She can't find Martin in her contacts, and she knows he doesn't reply to unknown numbers, but she remembers his email. It'll do. Her fingers tap on the little keyboard faster than ever, and she hopes the automatic spellcheck can pick up the slack.
FROM: Dr. Annie Shapiro
TO: Dr. Martin Dubois
Subject: [empty]
"martin what happened after that lab test are you ok im not in baikonur is the launch still on schedule"
As she stumbles out of bed, the death grip she has on her phone threatens to give it back its cracks. Her eyes are scanning the latest emails in her inbox. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Except, they say they're from March 10th, March 9th, one from March 8th at the bottom of her screen.
The launch was supposed to happen on September 20th.
Hands shaking slightly, she switches to the calendar app.
Good news: she didn't sleep for 6 months!
Bad news: she's back several years in the past.
She takes a deep breath, willing her brain for a rational answer. Could everything Hail Mary have been some sort of fever dream? A drunken hallucination, maybe? She did go to a couple "drink-the-apocalypse-away" party with old college friends before finally sending her application for the science officer role.
She looks up the Petrova Line. According to the absurd date her phone is displaying, it's a good year before it would become known as Astrophage, but Irina Petrova's work should already be making some waves right now. She needs to know how much of this crazy thing is real.
She pinches the bridge of her nose, phone abandoned on the bed beside her. It's real, alright. She wasn't lucky enough to get sent back in time to a universe where the Earth wasn't about to freeze over.
What could she do? Volunteer again, that's for damn sure. Hopefully one crazy-sounding email to a colleague wouldn't disqualify her. Should she try to contact Stratt in advance? How much could she change, if anything at-
Her phone buzzes.
She practically launches herself at it.
FROM: Dr. Martin Dubois
TO: Dr. Annie Shapiro
Subject: Re: [empty]
"Hello Dr. Shapiro.
I am no longer at Baikonur either. I believe something went wrong with our experiment.
I have to admit, I was starting to believe I was experiencing my 'life flashing before my eyes', for lack of a better term.
I am glad to hear you are safe, even if this situation is peculiar."
Oh shit. He remembers too.
Did they die? Is that what brought them back in time? If so, how? A nanogram of astrophage in the generator shouldn't have done much of anything...
Annie's fingers drum on the side of her phonecase for a few seconds, and then she's back to typing at breakneck speed.
FROM: Dr. Annie Shapiro
TO: Olesya Ilyukhina, Yáo Li-Jie
Subject: Tertiary Science Officer
"If neither Martin nor I could make it onto the ship, who was designated as the science specialist?"
There. Cryptic and vague enough to be ignored if they don't remember. Perfectly understandable if they know anything.