Chapter Text
The last thing I heard my kid say to me was: “No parent should have to watch their child die. My kids are here for me now. You go.”
“Where?” I had said to her. Like an idiot.
“Brand.”
And I realized. Brand was still out there. Alone. Building up camp for humanity’s new home.
Tears overwhelmed my eyes as I slowly released Murph’s wrinkled hands.
She’s been waiting for me for years. Probably 80 damn years, for her father to come back from interstellar space. And I could only hold her fingers in mine for a couple of measly minutes.
Her family, my family, started to crowd back in around her. Murph’s eyes stayed locked on me as I slowly backed towards the door.
She mouthed “Bye, Dad.” With a shaky jaw as she shifted her vision back to her grandchildren.
I managed to smile as tears flooded my face. I couldn’t watch it happen.
And that moment had been stuck in my brain since the moment I walked out of that room.
“TARS, make sure I don’t miss the fun part.” I nudge TARS’ screen with a knuckle behind me as I adjusted my helmet off my head with one of my hands
“Going into a wormhole wasn’t fun the first time, Cooper.” TARS drones behind me. “You still have 7 hours before you approach the wormhole.”
I pause and snark at him. “What’s your humor setting at?”
“Ten percent.”
I grimace. We aren’t having that. I’m not gonna be stuck with this hunk of bore, no no no.
“Set that up to 65.” I hum, shifting against the pilot chair and closing my eyes. Who changed my glorious humor settings down that far?
“With a little indicator to show that I’m making a joke?” TARS’ tone was back to his regular, joking demeanor.
I snicker in response, crossing my arms. “Yeah, thanks Slick.”
“Sleep tight, Cooper.” TARS’ voice was closer now, but I knew he hadn’t moved. And the ever so quiet hum of the Ranger was lulling me to sleep.
Didn’t know that falling asleep could be this easy when I’m at full acceleration.
”We cannot survive here, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Mann’s voice yells from above me, his spiked boots reaching down to slam into my fingers.
I scream, pulling away before spraying air against his ankle and dragging him down the steep with me.
We tumbled together against the ground once we reached it, before we were both panting.
”You faked… all the data?” I huff, on my hands and knees.
Mann nods against the ground. “Yeah.”
This son of a bitch.
”There’s no surface?!”
“No. I tried to do my duty, Cooper,” Mann continues, “but I knew the day that I arrived here,” he huffed another wheezing breath. “that this place had nothing.”
I made my way to my feet, breath heavy.
“And I resisted the temptation for years… But I knew that, if I just pressed that button, then someone would come to save me.”
I step towards him with aggression in my veins. I wanted to kill this guy.
“You fucking coward.”
“Yes.” Mann fully stood up, turning to face me with a cloudy helmet. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He continued to walk towards me before he tackled me again, and we were left tussling to stay afoot.
We continued to scramble and yell against the ground, before I finally got him pinned against me.
I push all of the air out of his thrusters with my elbow before shoving him harder against the ice.
”STOP IT!”
He stares at me. His eyes were blank and cold. I finally thought he would calm down. Maybe talk.
Mann slams his forehead forward against my helmet.
”No, NO-“ I scream at him as he continues to whack his helmet against mine.
”DR. MANN, THERE’S A 50/50 CHANCE YOU’RE GONNA KILL YOURSELF!” I shout in his face to get him to stop.
He pants, his tone joking but no smile.
”Those are the best odds I’ve had in years.”
He slams his forehead against mine again before a loud CRACK splattered next to my cheek, and I was met with the feeling of having ice-cold ammonia spray onto my face.
All that happened next was a blur, trying to hold my gloved hand to my helmet to stop air from escaping, hearing Mann try to calm me down as he left me to die, and trying to claw my way to my helmet radio. I had to tell Brand.
But this son of a gun said “Don’t judge me, Cooper.”
I know it’s unethical, but I want to send him into Gargantua myself.
I kept dragging myself forward before I slammed the radio against the side of my head. “BRAND! HELP!”
A pause. Then… “Cooper?”
I just continued to yell “Help!” It was all I could do. I can’t explain all that Mann was doing with this little oxygen.
”CASE!” Brand yelped.
I didn’t have enough air. “No air…” The ammonia was gonna kill me. “Ammonia…”
”Cooper! Cooper, we’re coming! CASE! Go, go go go!
I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die and never see my kids again. The last thing I heard from my children was Murph telling me how Plan A was all a fraud.
Forgive me, Murph and Tom. I love you both so so much.
“Cooper, we’re coming, don’t talk. Try to breathe as little as possible, we’re almost there.” She had said, but I could hear the panic in her tone.
Brand continued to yell. Telling me to wait. That her and CASE were almost there. I heard her yell at CASE to keep going a couple times. Faster.
”Hang in there, come on!”
I whimpered slightly at the tiny breath I took. The air smelt like cold cat-pee. Eugh. It smelled worse than a dog after a dust storm.
”I see him! I see him, CASE— bank, bank right!”
Loud engines rumbled beside me, and I barely managed to glance over at the lowering ranger. Brand was jumping out before it was even on the ground.
I wanted to yell at her. And be all “Hey! What’re you doing?! You’re gonna die jumping off things like that!” Kind of dad mode. But I couldn’t speak as ammonia fills my lungs and coats my vocal cords.
”Cooper! COOPER! I’m here!” Brand’s voice swirled in and out of my mind. She’s so scared. I wish I could hug her or place my hand on her back like I did when Murph told us her father died.
Brand ran over and flicked my helmet open and pressed an oxygen canister to my mouth. I breathed in heavily and stared up at her with squinted eyes.
She looked so scared.
I woke up with a heavy breath and TARS speaking in my ear.
“Cooper. Cooper, hello?”
“Yeah, yep— I hear ya, TARS.” I exhale slowly. I’ve had that nightmare a lot recently.
“You alright?” TARS hummed behind me.
“Yeah. I’m alright. Just dreaming, that's all.”
TARS pauses. “We’re approaching the wormhole again, Coop.”
I nod and swallow the small bit of bile in my throat. “Guy has to nap every now and then, huh?”
“You’re still an old man at heart.” TARS droned on, but his tone was still joking.
I reach over and pull my helmet over my head with a sigh. I hated this last time, I’ll hate it again.
“It’s still a sphere.” I comment.
“You expected it to change shape?”
“Just makin’ conversation.” I smirk. My eyes were locked on the growing sphere in front of us.
I leaned back closer against the chair as we entered and gravity warped around us, galaxies and stars stretching right in front of my eyes, like flying against a backdrop.
I continue to press the stick forward, and lights start flickering. I guess even the advanced ranger fights against it.
“Agh— getting harder to push this.” I mumble before letting go completely. I can’t push against something outside of our dimension.
I exhaled slowly as alarms blared and the ranger groaned. I’d be okay. I’m okay.
“Doing good up there?” TARS called from behind me.
“Yep. Just observing.” It looks the exact same as last time I went through here.
The groaning stopped. And the walls of space smoothed into a familiar look. I sighed.
I’m back in Gargantua’s pull.
“TARS,” I hum, a small smile curling onto my face. “Chart a course to Edmunds’ planet.”
“Charting. Be there in a couple minutes.”
I blink. Woosh! This ranger is advanced!
“What’s the time dilation on Edmunds’?”
“For every second on Edmunds, minutes for us. Maybe an hour, at most.”
I stare forward into the stars. “What about Gargantua?”
“The planet is right on the edge of the time slip. Not enough gravity to do much.”
I lean back. Brand might be in hypersleep. She probably…
She probably thinks I’m dead.
The landing was smooth. A lot smoother than the landings for Miller’s planet.
I keep my grip on the stick as the top hatch hisses open.
TARS rises from his spot behind me. “Get a move on, Cooper.”
I shake my head slightly. “She’s gonna hate me.”
TARS pauses and turns towards me. “That’s a heavy assumption.”
“I left her alone.”
The engines shut off almost silently as TARS climbed out.
“Edmunds could be alive, you don’t know if she’s alive.” TARS reminded me.
My hands were still shaking. And I know why.
I survived to get here. It was me.
But there were so many people that didn’t.
Doyle, Romilly, Miller, Professor Brand.
Murph.
I inhaled shakily and unclip myself from the pilot’s seat and step out of the ranger.
My boots bring up a bit of dust, and I eye my surroundings.
“TARS?”
“Cooper.” TARS responds obediently next to me.
“Got the coordinates for Edmunds beacon?” I hesitantly reach up to unhook my helmet. Pressure seemed fine.
I took a deep breath in. The air is breathable, thank goodness.
TARS dinged quietly as I made my way away from the ranger, before I paused.
“You coming?”
“I had assumed you wanted the dramatic human moment where you walk toward the unknown alone.”
I glance behind my shoulder with a smirk. “You know me too well, Slick. Let’s get going.”
TARS quickly shuffled after me in that weird, separation running way.
“This way!” He barked as he shifted direction.
I glance over. There’s a small bit of warm light in the distance.
My heart leaps. “Coming.” I call after TARS.
I should be excited. I found her, even after everything.
After falling into a black hole, after losing Murph and waking up on a Saturn-Orbiting space station. I had found the one other person I knew that was lost out here.
Like I said, I should be excited.
But my brain doesn’t work that way anymore. Survival does something to you, it makes every good thing feel sorta… temporary.
I lost so much. And now there’s a little voice in the back of my skull asking: “What makes you think you get to keep this one?”
I keep walking.
––
The dust that blew up around my boots didn’t smell like the dirt back home in Colorado. It wasn’t thick with the smell of burning crops and old dust. It was clean in the only way that dirt can be clean.
Ahead of us, the rocky valley dipped down into a wide area that was shadowed by massive crags of rock.
The sky was a dark blue, bordering a softer purple. And nestled right in the center of the basin was the camp.
From our distance, it looked small. Just a habitat module with a fabric canopy, and the sharp silhouette of the main Lander. There were little bits of light scattered throughout the canopy.
“Cooper,” TARS cut through my thoughts. “I’m detecting CASE’s internal beacon. He’s on low-power standby.”
“He’s keeping the lights on for her.” I mutter, my throat feeling tight.
“It’s what we do, Coop.” TARS replied. His humor indicator didn’t flash.
I nod slowly as we drew closer. The reality of the whole planet was sort of settling into my bones. This was one of the best choices out of the three planets.
This place wasn’t Miller’s flooded world, or Mann’s frozen wasteland. It was quiet, and alive– somewhat.
We reached the perimeter of the camp, and a few supply crates were stacked neatly by the Lander.
I saw something about fifty yards ahead, next to a larger pile of rocks that looked like they had been crumbled or collapsed.
There was a weathered and dusty patch from a flight suit. It read Edmunds.
I stop and stare at the pile of rocks for a moment. Wolf Edmunds was the man she had argued with me about, how love was a quantifiable force. Now he was just… buried.
“Ah.” I reached a gloved hand to cover my mouth. Poor Brand.
“Likely a rockfall,” TARS said, standing a few feet back. “He’s been gone for a while.”
I turned away from the grave, my chest was aching with a mixture of grief and relief. Two things that shouldn’t be going together.
But this meant she was alive. She had to be.
I walk up to the main door of the Lander with hesitation. The control panel was blinking with a dull green.
I glance behind my shoulder at TARS before hitting the manual override. The seal broke with a sharp hiss of air. The hatch slid down to reveal a similar view to what I saw on Mann’s planet. A small habitat module.
Almost immediately, a quiet hum flickered to life as I heard quiet, metal steps from the corner. “Identify yourself.”
“Hey, CASE,” I said with outstretched palms. “It’s Cooper.”
The robot shifted into view. If a machine could look bewildered, CASE would. “Cooper? The telemetry from the Endurance indicated a close to zero percent survival rate for your trajectory into Gargantua.”
“Yeah, well,” I say with a tired smile. “Never was much for statistics.”
Before CASE could respond, TARS squeezed past me to hover in front of CASE. CASE was a bit scratched up, but he still seemed to be working fine.
They don’t have eyes. They have screens and flat faces. But they were just… staring?
“Hello, TARS.” CASE said after a couple of silent seconds.
“CASE.” TARS responded with a tiny little clank closer.
“You look like garbage.” TARS observed.
I had to hold back a chuckle, TARS was too much sometimes.
“I’ve been digging infrastructure in a silica desert for multiple days,” CASE replies with a slight drop of his voice. “You, however, have shiny new station paint. It’s offensive.”
“Wow.” TARS turned towards me, as if he was saying Can you BELIEVE this guy??
“I fixed him up. Gargantua did some stuff to the guy.” I added politely, but my heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it’d break them.
I look past CASE, toward the back of the habitat module.
And I made eye contact with the hypersleep chamber.
I stepped over, my boots a bit loud on the metal floor plating.
I heard TARS follow behind me shortly after, but I wasn’t paying too much attention to either of them.
My lungs felt tight, tighter than they had when the ammonia was flooding my throat on Mann’s planet.
I reached out, my glove hovering just an inch above the metal. My fingers were shaking. I’d gone through a wormhole twice, dropped into a black hole, and technically lived 124 years. But staring at the hypersleep chamber made my knees feel weak.
“Her vitals are stable, Cooper,” CASE’s voice hummed as he stepped up near TARS, the two of them standing side by side. “She entered hyper-sleep three days ago after completing the primary perimeter fencing and establishing automated moisture collectors.”
I slowly drop my hand to rest against the cold metal. “What did she set her wake up date to?”
CASE pauses, and everything seemed a bit too quiet.
“CASE. Don’t make me repeat myself.” I glance over my shoulder.
“She didn’t set one.” CASE murmurs, turning his screen to TARS slightly.
The guilt hit me like a physical blow. It felt like a genuine twist in my gut, sharp and ugly. She thought nobody would find her.
She had the same mindset as Mann, thinking that there wasn’t a point.
No. She didn’t. Brand would never ever have the same mindset as him.
I run my hand along the side of the chamber before pressing a button on the control panel.
“CASE, get a uh– a thermal blanket, or somethin’. Waking up from this stuff is hell on the joints.”
“Got it.” CASE starts to shuffle away, leaving just me and TARS.
“Humor setting is still at sixty-five percent, Cooper. Just in case you need me to tell a joke if she throws up her stomach lining.”
“Not now, TARS.” I mutter, but a faint twitch of a smile forms on my face.
I pressed another button, and the outer hatch hissed before lifting and pulling back. The plastic sleeve shifted away from her wet face.