Chapter Text
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“Good morning, Dr Grace.” My ex-tormenter, now adequately named “Armando”, calls out.
“Ghhhh…” I groan in response, blinking my eyes open. The first thing I see is pure blinding white-hot light.
My eyes quickly adjust. The lab—it's where I've spent most of my time nowadays. And now, apparently, its floor has become my sleeping quarters. Moving my head reveals a kink in my neck that feels like a gosh darn knife stabbed me! It hurts like a motherfluffer! The next pain I notice is in my arms. This one is more of a dull ache. I absentmindedly brush my fingers over the mangled skin, shuddering as the burns react harshly to the sensation.
Standing up is harder than I thought. My legs feel like a freshly made pack of Jell-O. I fall a few times because of it. Let me tell you, when your entire body is screaming at you for even moving? Falling feels so much worse—especially at 1.5g.
The various tables around the lab help me get back on my feet. They're one of the few things bolted down in this place—therefore they're one of the few things that can hold my weight in here. Getting to the ladder is a struggle, but I eventually take one step down-
Aaand I'm falling.
Instinctively, I let out a loud, surprised scream. This time, the robot arm didn't manage to catch me. I fall the whole two-metre way down. At 1.5g.
Owww…
I let out a whimper of pain, the impact travelling down my spine and blooming throughout my entire body.
“Ffffuddgee…” I grumble, lifting my hands to rub my eyes. I hear a soft whirring on my right side. Armando, no doubt. I hear the clink of metal—and when I open my eyes, I'm staring at the camera in the middle of the robot's hand. Something about that pisses me off.
“Is this really necessary?” I ask, crossing my arms as I stare at the camera in the room. No reply. I huff and tap the lens.
“Do not tamper with the camera.” A familiar, female Dutch voice says through the speaker. I can't see her, yet I can imagine the look on her face. Mostly neutral with a hint of anger. She had never and will never have any patience for my “shenanigans”. Not that I blame her. The Earth is slowly dying, so she has to wrangle all of us scientists together and make us cooperate.
“I'm not tampering with it.” Apparently, that doesn't make me any less annoyed with her tone.
“Tapping is tampering.” Stratt snaps back, and I know from her tone it's now time for me to “shut my trap”. It's not smart to argue with her, I've learned.
“Semantics.” I grunt, uncrossing my arms and rubbing the bridge of my nose, “But okay, fine. What am I doing here?”
“The other scientists need a quick, easy and reliable way to digest information about Astrophage. Research papers are not, in fact, quick and easy. And many others are posting theories with little to no peer review. If you can believe it, Dr Grace, that is not a reliable source of information.”
“Right... So why am I, specifically, here?”
“You are the most informed about Astrophage.” Stratt explains straight-forwardly. I know it's not the only reason, and my expression must've given it away, “You also have experience with condensing information and explaining it simply.”
“You want me to do this because I was a teacher.” I deadpan with a heavy sigh. Another long silence echoes through the room. After a few minutes, the speaker crackles back to life.
“Yes, Dr Grace. Like I said, we need someone to-”
“Compartmentalise all known information about Astrophage into a—what, thirty minute YouTube video?”
“I would prefer it to be less than an hour and a half. You will make it work, Dr Grace. You always do.”
Wow. I haven't summoned an old memory in a while. The annoyance and exhaustion from it lingers, like a heavy weight in my chest. Stratt asked so much of me, even when I didn't want to do it. I understood why… yet I couldn't help but be angry at her.
What if I'd screwed it up? Maybe someone else would've figured it out… maybe not. Maybe they would've run out of time. Maybe I'd have been the last human alive.
Until I eventually died as well. From starvation, scurvy, suicide, or anything else.
I could have been the last human to exist. Ever. The thought was terrifying, even if it wasn't true now. The Beatles were on their way home.
To a home I'll never see. I'll never see real flowers. I'll never see my kids grow up. I'll… never hear Colt's laugh. The things you miss when you realise you'll never get them back…
I feel hot tears run down my cheeks. A choked sob escapes my throat as I roll to my side, curling into a fetal position with my hands positioned behind my neck.
I sob, grasping at the grass that I'm pinned to. The blades cut my hands before they're ripped out of the dirt. I scream, I cry, I do everything to try and get away. It doesn't work. A man in a black suit walks up to my prone body, pain and regret reflecting in his expression.
“You know who you are…” My hearing fades out first. Carl kept talking—but I couldn't hear him. Cotton filled my ears. My vision slowly blurred as my body went numb.
“COLT!!” I cry out, trying to writhe my way out of their grip. It doesn't work. I'm too weak. My throat closes, forcing me to gasp for air.
“I-I'LL SABOTAGE THE MISSION!” I scream, trying to get them to stop. They wouldn't. No, Stratt wouldn't have let them. They know who I am. She knows who I am.
More of my senses fade. I force myself to stare at a daisy in front of me, the flower swaying in the wind without a care in the world. Its life continued, while mine was ending without my say-so.
“N…no…” I whine as my eyes close. Everything fades, and I feel my memories slipping away, “I…”
…please… i cant do it. im not brave enough. i dont want to die.
I can't breathe. Everything feels so heavy. The air feels like it's filled with Argon. I choke on my own saliva, causing me to hack up blood into my hand. The room twists around me, and for a moment, I can't feel my body anymore.
I gasp as air finally fills my lungs, shooting up from the floor. Leftover tears trail down my face. It's so blurry. I can't tell real from fake.
“Eye movement detected.” A familiar voice echoes through the room, “What's 2 + 2?”
“Wh…what…?”
“Incorrect. What's 2 + 2?”
I take a moment to look around the room. The lighting is off, and everything is in one of those old 2000s nostalgia filters. The most notable change, though, is that the old beds are back in their original triangle position. I know this. I remember this.
Why can't I recall it?
Come on, G…Gr… what… why can't I remember my name? I swear I knew it just a few moments before…
“What's 2 + 2?” The robot got impatient with me, repeating its question. Four. It's easy. But I can't find my voice.
I force myself to stand, stumbling out of the sheets, and disregarding the lack of clothing. It didn't matter.
There weren't any tubes this time. Thank gosh. The robot chases after me, though. I pick up my pace, my legs slowly regaining their strength.
Climbing into the lab was easy enough. The hatch was locked, but memories flooded back into my brain as I progressed up the ladder. I was prepared for the question this time.
“What's your na-”
The robot didn't get a chance to finish before I yelled, “Doctor Ryland Grace, PhD!” The hatch unlocks. I push it open, falling onto the floor as the gravity increases. My arms feel like fifty-pound weights.
An alarm rings through the ship. I know this sound. There's been a leak. Something isn't right. I push myself up, grunting as I do so. The Xenonite chambers. I have to seal them. I have to-...
Rocky's body is in front of me. He's limp, outside of the Xenonite chamber, and steaming. I don't think about it. I push my arms underneath his carapace, ignoring the white-hot pain radiating in my forearms as I carry him to the sphere. I feel the sizzling, my skin roasting and radiating a disgusting smell throughout the ship. The Xenonite ball feels so far. Keep going. You have to. For Rocky.
I cry out in pain as I drop his carapace into the sphere. I take no time to seal it up. Once the makeshift door closes, a heat lamp flicks on, enveloping the room in a bright purple light.
“Y…You're safe now, Rock…” I whisper, slumping against the wall and closing my eyes, “You'll be okay.”
The alarms shut off, I just now noticed. The room isn't bright red anymore. I let out a relieved sigh and made my way up to the cockpit, pushing open the hatch and floating to the pilots chair.
“Pilot detected.” Armando states, and I let myself smile softly. My memories are back—thank gosh.
I don't have much time to relish in the relief, though. Alarms blare again, but for a different reason this time. Zero-G shuts off, and everything that was once floating dropped. I furrowed my brow, glancing at the multitude of computers around me.
“MASSIVE CENTRIFUGAL FORCE DETECTED.” The letters are all red. I look over at the fuel tanks. Eleven and twelve were punctured, and I need to release them before the force gets to be too-
“AGH!” I scream out in pain as I'm slammed against the computers. I feel warm liquid drip down my forehead, and everything feels twice- thrice as heavy. My head is blaring, and so are my knees.
I weakly reach for the button to release the fuel tanks, my eyes heavy. Every breath feels laboured. I manage to release the eleventh fuel tank, but when I try to release the twelfth, everything goes dark.
< Grace save Earth. Save Erid. >