Work Text:
Storage is, undoubtedly, the most intriguing section of the Hail Mary at this point. Rocky and I have been in this ship for well over a year now, and we’ve seen – and sensed – every single piece of it; the only exception to this is the storage room, which is way too small for me to fit in, and while Rocky could, theoretically, get in there, he’d have to figure out a way to wrap himself in xenonite instead of using the ball.
We’ve been trapped in an over-glorified stack of tuna cans for over a year. Together, yes, which makes it sufferable (fun, even) – but, God, I just want something to happen around me. Wind, or some leaves rustling. I’ll even take tripping on an uneven curb. Rocky told me that he could hear my boredom, and suggested I ‘decorate the room between our bedroom and the engines’. Decorating is not what I’m doing. I am, however, slowly making my way through all the soft storage containers, one by one.
Most of it is junk. I mean, I’m excited about it, but it was all clearly meant to be opened before even beginning experimentation – there’s all sorts of equipment here. I’ve also found, in another box, a set of colouring pencils, felt-tip pens, and a big, blank-paged notepad within which to, presumably, draw. In the same box, I found a teensy tiny bag of chocolate. It was probably a bag of several smaller pieces of chocolate, but have melted and re-solidified several times over since it was packed (probably by the ISS crew, judging by the handwriting), and as a result, has pooled into one palm-sized chunk of chocolate. I am ecstatic. Imagine that – chocolate, in this day and age. And place.
The sensible part of me says that I need to save at least a little bit of it, to see if they can replicate it on Erid, but the more childish (and more honest) part of me wants to eat it whole, right now.
To prevent chocolate vore, I pull the next box towards me. This one’s a bit more difficult to get – I’m getting to the point where I’ll soon need to MacGyver myself a grabby-stick.
Something within the box rustles as I move it. I haven’t heard that sound in such a long time that I’d almost forgotten it.
It’s the sound of cheap food packaging.
“Oh my God!”
An entire box of individually-packaged Super Noodles stares back at me.
I can hear Rocky’s claws pitter-pattering against his xenonite tunnels as he scampers towards me, wondering what has gotten me so excited.
“Grace is okay, question?”
“Yeah, bud,” I say, nearly laughing as I do. I feel like I’m rich. “Just found some food – like, actual, real food. Solid and all.”
“Is in date?” Rocky asks, tapping his foot twice at the question.
“Probably. They’re noodles. They’re designed to last, when they’re all dried up like this. And, even if they weren’t,” I continue, knowing full-well that this is why Rocky asked, “I’d probably still eat them anyway.”
Rocky makes a small huffing sound before he begins tapping his tunnel wall lightly, trying to get a better picture of the scene before him.
“Grace has made a mess.”
“Yup.”
“Grace is going to clean this up, question?”
“Sure, bud. Got loads of time – I’m just gonna check out the next box first.” As I speak, I stick my head back into what little of the storage room I can fit into. Just then, I feel something small and fuzzy in the thick air around me. Many small and fuzzy things actually, which all seem intent to go up my nose.
I pull my head out of the storage room just in time for the biggest sneeze I’ve ever sneezed.
“Ugh,” I say involuntarily. “Whoo. Haven’t sneezed like that in a while.” It felt like someone grabbed each side of my head and shook it like a bartender mixing up a cocktail.
“Grace.”
I turn to find Rocky standing in the corner, legs spread all around him so as to give him as many efficient escape routes as possible.
“...Yeah?”
“What was that.”