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Never did Courtland once think that he would find space travel boring. He thought that the ‘space’ part of it would, surely, negate any and all such idle feelings – but two weeks into their journey to Erid, he had needed to reevaluate his position.
He supposed that, realistically, he should have expected this. Any sort of long-haul journey ended up chafing at his patience, even when he’d been in the Sierra Program and such qualities had literally been trained into him.
Court also knew, thanks to his time in the C.I.A’s palm, that complacency was incredibly dangerous. Boredom could just as easily kill them as a loss of pressure could, or a lack of food.
Which was why he had to keep himself sharp, even as the days began to stretch endlessly before them and the mix of emotions at starting the next leg of their journey had faded into muted background noise.
Unfortunately, the Hail Mary pretty much flew itself, so there wasn’t much active piloting Court could do. He did, however, start each new morning with a cup of coffee in the control room, looking through the display panels thoroughly to make sure everything was still stable and in the green.
After that, he ran lengths of the ship to stay active and tried not to collide with Ry or Colt when they inevitably stumbled out of the dormitory, bleary eyed and uncoordinated. Occasionally Colt joined him, which was nice. Court could almost pretend they were on a park run together. A highly repetitive, spaceship-themed park run, but the company was good, nonetheless. Ryland had never joined them and thought them both insane, as he considered running one of the cardinal sins.
And then the rest of the day was his. The schedule that he and Ry had drawn up in the days before Colt was awake and Rocky had rejoined them still was somewhat adhered to. Routine had to be their best friend in this four-year trek across the stars – despite the fact that it did get a little dull at times, and it was all too easy to shirk something off if he didn’t particularly fancy it at the time.
He helped Ryland in the lab, learning science that made his head ache. He watched Rocky build things he didn’t have names for, a layer of xenonite separating them. He joined Colt in what was swiftly becoming the Hail Mary’s very own greenhouse, tending to the seedlings that were quickly sprouting up under his surprisingly green-thumbed ministrations.
They ate together, watched movies in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, annoyed one another; domestic in all the ways Court had dreamed of when they’d been reunited on Earth. But there was only so much normal that he could take, and sometimes in the dead of night, Court almost found himself hoping for a minor emergency to occur so he could have something else to do. And then, as the hours before the lights flicked over to ‘dawn’ grew smaller, slightly hated himself for wanting that.
It boiled down to this: Courtland needed something to do, and he needed it sooner rather than later.
He was hiding out in the control room, idly flicking through the different displays and playing a half-game, half-training exercise of seeing if he could remember the numbers on the panels before moving onto the next one. If they ever did end up in a serious situation where the electrics of the Hail Mary shorted, a memorised stock of key numbers and statistics seemed like they would be vital.
It was also a good excuse to keep the twins off his back; they’d been bickering like old ladies in a grocery check-out line since the moment they’d woken up, and Court was just about ready to shut them both in the airlock until they had sorted themselves out.
“Hello, Court.” Rocky tumbled into his xenonite bubble that encased the other pilot’s chair.
“Hey, bud.” Court said with a small smile. He was getting better at recognising Eridian: the ‘hello’ had been sung and untranslated. There was no real Earth equivalent of an Eridian greeting. It was more of a noise that equated to ‘I am happy to be amidst your presence and hear your music’, which Court thought was very poetic and much better than a standard Earthly ‘hello’.
“What is Court doing?” Rocky said, a few clicks permeating his words as he turned his entire body in Court’s direction.
“Training exercise,” he said shortly, eyes scanning over the fuel bay screens before looking up at the ceiling and mouthing the numbers there back to himself.
“Ah. Training exercise, yes, yes.”
There was something in Rocky’s tone that diverted Court’s attention from the blinking lights that decorated the control room’s ceiling, and back to the Eridian. He waited.
“Rocky also hide from Colt and Grace. Very loud, annoying.”
“You can say that again.” Court said, amused and exasperated simultaneously.
“Rocky also –”
Court chuckled, holding up his hand. “Earth expression, Rock, you don’t actually have to say it again.”
“Oh.” Rocky sat down, folding his front two legs comfortably in front of him. “Court okay, question?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah I’m fine – why do you ask?” He thought he’d done a reasonable job hiding his growing restlessness, but Rocky was incredibly perceptive and, unlike two certain brothers of his, wasn’t at all phased by directly challenging or calling out weird human behaviour.
“Need word.” Rocky said, drumming his three fingers lightly on the xenonite. “When things to do, but nothing is found interesting. No purpose.”
Court sighed. “‘Bored’. The word you’re wanting is ‘bored’.”
“Rocky hear this word many times from Colt, but not know the full meaning.”
“Yeah, he does love to bandy that one around, especially if he knows it’ll wind Ry up.” Court said fondly. “He’s so childish. So is Ry, to be honest.”
They both paused for a moment, waiting to hear the twins’ voices emanating from the lab. They had, Court noticed, moved on from quibbling over how much toothpaste the other was using from their diminishing supplies, to why cereal could be considered a soup. Ryland was arguing in favour of that particular one, and Court was suddenly quite thankful that his youngest brother wasn’t in charge of making any of the meals aboard the ship.
“Grace and other Grace stupid.” Rocky surmised, and Court found he couldn’t do anything other than nod seriously at his words. “Court is frustrate no purpose feeling, question?”
“I’ll get Ry to update your dictionary, Rock. And, yeah, I am.” Court arched his back in the pilot’s chair, stretching out his arms as he did so. A series of pops ran down his spine that he felt he should be more concerned about than he was. “I’m not very good at sitting still, not really being needed.”
I’m best when I’m following someone else’s orders, he thought darkly.
Court had never expected to actually miss the regimen that the Sierra Program gave him, and boredom had certainly not bothered him when he’d been constructing a life for himself and Claire. But he’d had a regular nine ‘til five, the grocery shopping to do, Claire to get to appointments and school. There had been orders, but they had simply come from the general hum of conforming to civilian life, rather than some anonymous voice coming down a secure phone line.
“Court needed very much!” Rocky’s voice had gone up a half-octave, clearly trying to stress something he felt important to Court. “Rocky, Grace, Colt all need Court. Mission Commander, yes, but most important, family.”
Court looked over to see Rocky standing now, his legs extended to give him his full height. It was a pose they’d come to associated with deep insistence on a point.
“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” he started reassuringly. “I just meant I like to have things to work on, y’know?” He rocked back and forth in the chair. It didn’t move an inch. “Like when I fixed this, and it took me a while. I really enjoyed doing it; I could stand back and look at it and think, ‘I did that’.”
“Court wants job with obvious outcome, question?” Rocky said, twitching his fingers in a way Court knew meant he was thinking hard about something.
“Yeah, I guess I do. Got any suggestions?” It was said with some flippancy, but Court couldn’t help but lean toward Rocky a little when he went very still, turning his carapace to ‘face’ Court.
“Yes. Good, good, good suggestion.” Rocky crouched down, looking like he was about to leap forward at Court through the xenonite. And then, clearly having picked up far too much human body language, he beckoned. “Secret suggestion, Court come here.”
Too intrigued to stop and wonder if they were slowly eroding Rocky’s Eridian culture with their own mannerisms, Court slid from his chair and crept toward the xenonite-encased one. He knelt. “Go on.”
“Remember Rocky’s first day aboard Hail Mary, question?”
Court nodded, shuffling in closer.
“Court and Rocky talked for first time without Grace – Court said Rocky was family.” He let out a little trill of happiness, bobbing up and down on the spot. “Rocky still very happy to be Grace family.”
A smile split Court’s face and he raised a hand to press against the xenonite. “Me too, pal. And yes, I remember. Where’s this going?”
“Court suggest new mission. We could do mission now, together, question?”
“New mission …” Court muttered to himself, trying to place Rocky’s words in with his own recollection of that conversation. “New – oh!” He looked sharply up at Rocky.
There was a slight quiver in the Eridian’s limbs and body that spoke of barely contained glee.
“Operation Make Ryland Swear.”
Rocky did jazz hands, his usual chittering laughter pitched down, Court assumed, so as not to alert Ry that they were plotting against him a room away. Where his smile had been affectionate before, he now felt it turn devious.
“That,” he said, standing, “sounds like a perfectly acceptable way to spend my time. When do we start?”
***
If Ryland knew what we were up to, Court thought bemusedly, he probably would be proud.
Channelling their inner scientists, Court and Rocky had come up in the last hour with a list of parameters and exclusionary rules before they could begin Operation Make Ryland Swear. They had immediately and unanimously agreed that they would do nothing that involved unnecessarily scaring Ry, anything that could end in potential harm, or bring up anything traumatic from what he remembered of his past. This was supposed to be a fun challenge that allowed Courtland to pull on his vast, and yet often untapped, reserves of being an annoying oldest brother. Similarly, it let Rocky fulfil his role as a best friend showing love by teaming up with a sibling to bully Ryland.
“Are we getting Colt in on this?” Court asked, now sitting cross-legged on the floor of the control room. Rocky had swapped out into his ball, the two of them cosied up together by the window, scheming under the lights of distant stars and planets.
“Hmm.” Rocky tapped a claw twice on the floor. “Can Colt keep secret, question?”
“No.” Was Court’s immediate answer. “He’s terrible at them. He’d probably go up to Ry and just ask him outright to swear, which then of course would blow our cover when Ry inevitably asks him why.”
“Colt not invited to join Operation Make Grace Swear, statement.” Rocky said with a dip of his carapace.
“Shall we see how long it takes for him to work out what we’re doing?” Court said, amusement colouring his words. “He’s going to know we’re up to something.”
“Place bets.” Rocky said. “Add more fun to mission.”
“Alright, I reckon – wait, how do you know what a bet is?” Court asked, sidetracked.
“Grace show Rocky human games with small pieces of paper. Grace forget Rocky cannot sense human visual light spectrum, but once I learn rules, Rocky still win.”
Of course Ry had played cards with his new alien friend. And, Court had to admit with a wry shake of his head, of course he’d then lost to that new alien friend.
“What did you win?” He asked, interested piqued at what they could have possibly laid down as bets.
“Human food, gross, I did not want, but Rocky thought it funny Grace lost so kept it.” Rocky pointed down the corridor to the rest of the Hail Mary’s interior. “Hid when Grace distracted.”
Court was willing to place his own bets that there was a treasure trove of Skittles somewhere in the ship, waiting to be discovered and fought over.
With a rush of nostalgia, he recalled teaching Colt and Ry how to play poker and other card games by torch-light, huddled and giggling underneath a poorly constructed blanket fort in their room. They had always used candy to bet with, none of them receiving an allowance from their father. Court knew large chunks of Ry’s childhood memories were still missing, but clearly some things were instinctively remembered. It was both warming and worrying to think about. The good stuff had left an impression, but how long would it be until the bad stuff forced its way to the surface?
“Court, question?”
A soft tap on the xenonite brought Court back to the present. “Sorry, just thinking of … yeah, it doesn’t matter, Earth stuff.” He smiled for Rocky. The Eridian didn’t know of their difficult past either, and Court wouldn’t mind keeping it that way for as long as he feasibly could.
Rocky made a low humming noise, just barely on the edges of Court’s hearing. He knew this one too; it signalled dissatisfaction in an answer. The sound stopped a second later, however, and Court hurried on, wanting to get them back on track with shenanigans rather than dwelling on anything painful.
“So, how long are you betting it takes Colt to figure out what we’re trying to do? I think at least three days.”
“Rocky thinks seven.”
Court held up a fist to a xenonite panel, their only way of sealing a deal without being able to physically shake hands.
Rocky’s fist bumped against the interior of the ball. “Bet is on. Back to mission.”
“So,” Court inched in closer. “What should we try first, now that we have our mission stipulations?”
“Court knows Grace best, what makes Grace swear, question?”
“Good question …” Court said, mentally searching through his collated knowledge of Ryland. “Hmm.”
Ry never really had a propensity for foul language. All three of them had grown up very used to cursing, their father having hurled verbal abuse when he couldn’t be bothered to get up from his chair. Court remembered taking the twins upstairs once, when they were about five or six years old, sitting them down and explaining to them that the words Dad used were hurtful and bad, and that he was sorry they had to hear them day in and day out.
Colt had asked if he could ever use those words back, which Courtland had shut down as fast as possible.
“Not at Dad, Colt.” He said sternly. “Never at Dad.”
“What about at Ry if I’m mad at him?”
“Hey!”
Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Court remembered laughing then. Ryland had looked so offended, Colt so earnest.
“You can only use those words if you really have to, okay?” Court had compromised with them: if Dad wasn’t at home, they weren’t used in anger to hurt or attack, and were never heard at school, then the twins had the go ahead to cuss if they absolutely had to.
In hindsight, it hadn’t been one of Court’s finer moments – but he was essentially raising two kids singlehandedly, and no one had ever thought it would be necessary to prepare another literal child for that scenario.
It did, however, produce some very fond memories of the twins. One that never failed to make him smile was when Colt had lost at a boardgame to Ry, stood up and, with all the passion a nine year old could muster had said, “For fuck sake!”
Court had been on the way over with the twins’ dinner, and both Ryland and Colt had seemed entirely bemused to watch him carefully set the plates down on the countertop, and then go weak-kneed with laughter.
Colt had definitely taken to swearing like a sailor, but Ryland, always much happier to stay within the neatly demarcated lines of rules, had not. In fact, Court was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard Ry curse.
“If Colt pushes him enough, he’ll definitely snap at him,” Court mused. “But I’d rather not start a civil war between them if I can help it.”
“Would also involve asking Colt to be annoying on purpose.” Rocky said and gave a little shudder. “Bad.”
Court wasn’t sure if the ‘bad’ was about getting Colt involved somehow, or if it was because Rocky had a fairly firm grasp on how tedious Colt could truly be if he set his mind to it. Either way, he agreed and besides, this was Court’s opportunity to be truly tedious, not Colt’s.
“Last choice,” Rocky said. “Ask Colt.”
“Agreed. Humans would call this the ‘nuclear option’ – the biggest possible move you could make to try and win.” Court continued to rifle through different occasions where Ryland had gotten het up enough to lose his customary ‘fudges’ and ‘holy moleys’. “He gets pretty animated talking about science, that could be a good option.”
“Staggering waste of carbon.”
“He told you about that?” Court said, grinning. “I have to admit, because he refuses to cuss someone out, he’s very good at getting inventive with insults.”
“Rocky thinks –”
But whatever Rocky thought didn’t come to fruition, as two, highly irritated twin brothers careened into the control room, each trying to shove the other out of the way and get to Court first.
“Court, can you take him on an EVA or something, he’s being so –”
“Hey, it’s not me that’s the problem here! If you would just shut up and listen –”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, name one single time you ever listened to me properly, go on!”
“Court, can we jettison him from the ship?”
“Alright,” Court said, standing up and folding his arms. A slight motion from the corner of his eye had him glancing down.
Rocky was mimicking his pose, his two front arms crossed, one finger tapping an impatient rhythm as he ‘looked’ at Ryland and Colt.
Court worked hard for a moment to keep his face straight and then turned back to the twins. “This has got to be enough out of you two now, I’ve been in here all day and I’ve had a constant background noise of bickering to keep me company. What,” he said with a sharp raise of an eyebrow, “could be so infuriating that you’re demanding one of you be jettisoned into space?”
“Ryland thinks a centaur isn’t a bug.”
“It isn’t!” Ry said, turning back on Colt immediately. “It’s a mammal, there’s no way it –”
“It’s got six limbs!” Colt shot back. “Bugs have six limbs!”
“Rocky has five and he freaks you out sometimes because he looks like a spider, but that doesn’t mean he is a spider.” Ryland said, waving his hands about.
“Keep Rocky out of this.” Rocky said indignantly.
“Yeah, keep Rocky out of this, he isn’t what we’re talking about – and another thing, he doesn’t freak me out!” Colt turned to Rocky and said very seriously, “You don’t scare me, Rocky.”
“Scary space monster,” Rocky said, clearly unable to help himself from joining in whatever lunacy seemed to have struck Colt and Ry down.
Ryland had just opened his mouth to say something else, when Court decided he had had enough.
“Right.” He marched over and propelled Ryland out of the room and along the corridor, not stopping despite his protests. “Sit.” He pointed to one of the lab’s chairs.
Ryland sat.
“Do some science.”
“But –”
Court turned on his heel and went back to Colt, who was trying to explain to Rocky what arachnophobia was and why he didn’t have it.
He turned and smiled gloatingly at Court as he entered. “Knew you’d take my – hey, what, get off!”
Court pulled Colt out of the control room as well, through the lab – “Ry, don’t stick your tongue out at him, for Christ’s sake,” – and into the Don’t Go Crazy Room.
“Play whatever game it was you had up a few nights ago.” He gestured to the screens. “Go nuts.”
And with that he stormed through the Hail Mary, back to Rocky, and sank into the pilot’s chair once more. He buried his face in his hands and wondered vaguely how they were all going to get through four more years of this without killing each other.
“Court handle siblings very well, Rocky impressed.”
“Thanks, pal.” Court ruffled a hand through his hair and leaned back against the headrest. “Do you know what,” he started slowly, Rocky rolling over to the chair and chirping at him questioningly. “I think it’s my turn to be immature for once. I’m making Operation Make Ryland Swear my number one priority from here on out. Ry and Colt can be the responsible ones for a bit, I’m sure they can handle it.”
Rocky made a warbling murmur, his carapace sinking slightly lower toward the ground. Clearly, he disagreed with Court, but Court was too bored and fed up with wrangling two younger brothers to care.
“I go make sure Grace and other Grace are not murdering each other, statement.” He began to roll out of the room, and then paused, turning back to Court. “Court stay here and think of other strategies for mission. Rocky help with siblings for now, Court relax.”
“You’re the best, Rock.” Court said, slipping further down into his seat and enjoying the aggressively bad posture for a change. It was almost tempting to put his feet up on the control panels, but he had to retain some level of common sense, and didn’t want to blow them all up simply because he wanted to express his emotions physically.
Maybe I could hide his glasses, he thought idly, listening to the thump of Rocky’s ball grow fainter and fainter. Bet that would tick him off.
“Grace, why is Colt shut in airlock, question?”
Court groaned, and put his hands firmly over his ears.
***
Because whatever cosmic being was lurking in the fabric of the universe and twitched the red strings of fate apparently had it out for those bearing the Gentry genetics, the Hail Mary reported loss of power in several of the spin-drives the next day.
It wasn’t a significant loss, they could limp onward to Erid. But the issue was getting there with enough life still in their bodies so they could last as long as it took for the Eridian scientists to synthesise them food.
Out of the thousand and nine spin drives that the ship had left Earth with, nine hundred and eighty odd still remained. Those nine hundred little engines needed to be in the best condition they could, so, after some mild panic and shouting through the hallways of the ship, the Hail Mary came to a complete halt, the centrifuge was spun up and plans were made.
Court, despite his earlier declaration that he had enough being the responsible one for a while, was ready to roll up his proverbial sleeves and help out. But something unexpected had happened.
Firstly, after they had all convened in the control room, Ryland and Colt had apologised both to him and to each other for their behaviour the day before. Ry was the king of unnecessary apologies, but to have him and Colt trying to make amends was unusual. Court wondered vaguely if Rocky had had a word with them.
And then Colt and Court were sidelined entirely as Ryland and Rocky showed them the teamwork and skills that had saved two planets.
Courtland didn’t need to be the responsible one. He watched Ry step up effortlessly, juggling a complex conversation with Rocky, explaining what needed to be clarified to Court and Colt, all as his hands danced over the panels in the control room. A pen was tucked behind his ear for easy access to the equation sheet his bare arm was quickly becoming.
As he and Rocky spoke science and engineering jargon to one another, seemingly getting wrapped up in it and forgetting the other two, Colt and Court stood in the entranceway to the control room. They leaned back against the wall, watching.
“Too slow,” Rocky said at one point, stamping a foot to emphasise his point.
“Agreed.” Ryland responded.
“We can –” Colt started, making a motion toward the pair, ready and eager to lend assistance if it would speed the process up any.
“Mary, turn off the Eridian to Earth translator.” Ry said at the same time, and then turned around from his position in the pilot’s chair to look at Colt. “Sorry, you can help, just once me and Rock have figured out the issue.”
“Translation software off, Dr. Grace.”
A series of complex whistling notes with a vibrato met their ears.
Court stared as Ry nodded, seemingly in thought, and then said, “Yeah, but that would involve an EVA, and I’d rather figure out the problem from the inside before we have to do that.”
“What.” Colt said, jaw slack.
“Damn,” Court murmured. He supposed he should have known: Ry and Rocky had been in only each other’s company for nearly eight months. Court was fairly certain he’d also be fluent in a language if he was kept in enforced isolation with a native speaker.
And as it turned out, they’d been right to turn off the translation software. Not twenty minutes later – the time flying as Court and Colt had watched and listened, entirely stunned – Ryland stood from the chair, stretched and came over to them.
“Okay, we think we’ve got it, but we do need to do an EVA.”
“Fill us in?” Court asked, hoping Colt wouldn’t be too frustrated at Ry’s initial flat refusal for his help. Despite them being practically the same age, Colt had the same propensity as Court did to always jump at the chance to be useful, particularly if it was for Ryland’s benefit.
But Ry had changed in more ways than one whilst he’d been aboard the Hail Mary. For some things, he might not always need them the way he did before.
It was something Court was going to have to get used to as well. A realisation came to him then; his new determination to have a break from responsibility could be, as well as an opportunity to have some fun, a training exercise in of itself. He needed to learn how to stand back and let his brothers take the reins for themselves.
He zoned back into the conversation, feeling that Operation Make Ryland Swear was perhaps going to be more meaningful than he had first expected.
“ … will need to stay in here, to see if whatever we try works or not. Colt, can you take point on the EVA?”
Good job, Ry, Court thought, smiling.
“Yeah, yeah, I can do that, absolutely.” Colt said, the slight dismay in his expression clearing entirely at Ryland’s request.
“And you’re okay being in here with Rocky?” Ry turned to Court. “He’ll know the specifics, if you don’t.”
Court had assumed he would be going with Colt, and scrambled to answer so his lapse in concentration wasn’t blatantly obvious. “Uh, yes, that’s – that’s fine.”
“Listen to teacher,” Colt smirked, leaning over and nudging him.
“Shut it.” Court muttered. “You’ll be out there with Colt?” He asked Ry.
“Yeah, I know the ship better than either of you from the outside, so that seems like the best way to divide everything up?” Ry’s voice rose at the end, making it a question.
Court nodded warmly, trying to reassure but also give his little brother ground to exercise some command.
The implicit message seemed to have been conveyed, as Ry shot back a shy smile. “Okay. Let’s get going.”
***
“This is entirely less exciting than I had hoped for.” Colt’s voice crackled through the short-range radio, his tone flat. Court could picture the expression on his face and did not envy Ryland one bit.
“‘Exciting’, Colt, means we’re imminently going to die, so take the boring and be grateful.” Ryland said dully.
The emergency had turned into a cleaning task. Ry and Colt had suited up and worked their way along the outside of the ship toward the engines, Court keeping tabs on their progress through Rocky’s echolocation. Upon reaching the bank of spin-drives, their problem had become immediately apparent. Some of the wiping mechanisms of the drives had failed, leaving all sides of the transparent prisms blackened with Astrophage that hadn’t been cleared away.
It was fixable, the spin-drives could be removed from their settings for such scenarios, the internal systems reachable whilst the spin-drive was entirely inert, but it had to be done delicately and by hand. Which meant Colt and Ryland would be outside the Hail Mary for the foreseeable future, essentially doing the universe’s most dangerous window cleaning job.
On all fronts, Court couldn’t really have asked for a better scenario. He got some alone time – Rocky’s company mellow and easy – the ship wasn’t broken beyond repair, and Ry was stuck with Colt doing a very repetitive, tedious task. If that didn’t get him to curse, Court wasn’t sure what would.
Court tried to sit back in the chair as best he could in zero gravity. He’d fastened the restraints but he was still drifting up and against them every so often. He forced his feet down and wedged them against Rocky’s currently unoccupied ball. It was docked securely at the inner airlock in the control room, Rocky swinging his way into the xenonite bubble instead and ‘reading’ the panels there with his little crystal camera.
“Court limbs off ball, will make it dirty.” He said mildly, the translator having been turned back on for Court’s benefit once Ryland had exited the ship.
“I’m not wearing shoes, buddy.”
“Dirty, off, off, off.”
“Ry, how many more have we got to go?” Colt’s voice issued from the radio.
All that came in response was a long suffering sigh.
Court flicked on the transmission from the interior, shooting Rocky a mischievous glance as he did so. “Yeah, how many more, kid? I think I missed the last update.”
The last ‘update’ had been when Colt asked the exact same question, ten minutes ago.
“Seventeen.” Ryland said, clearly through gritted teeth.
“Exterior crew, repeat: seventeen?” Court asked, keeping his voice crisp and clipped. He waved a hand at Rocky to get him to be quiet. The Eridian was laughing, his legs shaking as his carapace dipped up and down.
“Court.” Ryland started, the last vestiges of patience leaving his voice. “There is categorically no need for mission speak, put the spy away and just make sure you don’t accidentally turn on the engines.”
“Copy that, exterior crew, command out.” Court said, turning off the transmission with a flourish. They would still be able to hear Colt and Ry, but anything said in the control room would remain private.
“Court sneaky.” Rocky said, at least taking some of this seriously and returning his camera to the screens. “Use situation to advantage.”
“Colt, would you stop doing backflips and help me, for –”
Court and Rocky both leaned in.
“ – frick sake.”
Two simultaneous groans bounced through the control room, Court flopping back into his chair dramatically as much as zero G would allow. “So close.”
“Perfect opportunity for Grace to use 🎵🎶,” Rocky said sadly.
“What was that last bit, Rock?” Court said, frowning when it became apparent that no translation would enlighten him. “Is the software off again? Or malfunctioning?”
“No, is Eridian curse, sound like word Grace use but very rude. Earth equivalent used by Colt much.”
“Ah, yep, I know the one,” Court said. “How come the translator didn’t pick it up?”
“Grace never gave Rocky the words.” Rocky tilted his carapace forward in an expression of annoyance. “Said was not necessary.”
A new plan of attack formed so easily in Court’s mind it made him realise that, just maybe, Colt had learned his nature at Court’s knee.
“Well, that’s just rude,” he said, putting mock outrage into his voice. “It’s very important that all members of the Hail Mary crew can express themselves freely and fully. It’s unfair, otherwise, and not everyone is heard.”
“Yes, yes!” Rocky said, letting go of his camera and letting it float beside him. He pushed himself closer toward Court, bumping lightly into the xenonite panelling. “Court correct, Rocky is part of crew!”
“I think you should ask Ry to update your language database when he comes back in,” Court said, nodding sagely.
Rocky gave a light hum, “Court very sneaky. Many, many, many words I want to add.”
A little trickle of guilt eked its way into his thoughts and Court added quickly, “After he’s had a bit of a rest, though, I can’t imagine it’s easy work.”
“Ry, how long is this tether? Can I –” Colt’s words were cut off by a hacking wheeze, and Court surmised Colt had jumped, then asked.
“... Especially having to do it alongside Colt.” Court finished drily.
“Court, turn on the engines.” Ryland said. “Just wait for me to be in the blast radius first.”
***
Five hours later – one of which had included a nap – Ry padded, quilt over his shoulders, into the lab sipping from a steaming mug.
“Better?” Court asked, sitting at the workbench and tinkering with his next line of attack.
“So much,” Ryland said through a yawn. “Colt’s still out.”
“How are his ribs?” Court rummaged through one of the many drawers and came up with his prize: a rubber band.
“He’s fine, he’ll just be all sorts of interesting colours for a while.” Ryland came over and rested his lower back against the table, hitching a leg up in a half-perched position. He looked down with interest at what Court was doing. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“This, brother mine,” Court said, triumphantly holding up his project, “is a slingshot.”
Ry breathed out a laugh, a questioning, yet amused, expression on his face. “O-kay. And why do you need a slingshot?”
“Because I want one.” Court said, promptly plucking Ryland’s coffee cup from his hand and taking a swig from it.
“Hey!”
Court let the mug be swiped back and watched as Ry held it protectively to his chest. The questioning look had only grown more intense, and Court looked around for Rocky, hoping the Eridian would save him from having to dodge around whatever Ryland was about to ask.
“Court, you know if you –” The tone of Ryland’s voice had been gentle, not accusatory, and Court actually found himself intrigued to hear what might be coming next, when Rocky did scuttle into the lab and beeped a greeting at them both.
“Hey, pal,” Ry said, glancing up at him. “You good?”
“Watch Colt sleep, question?” Rocky said, gesturing back to the dormitory.
“Oh, yeah, sorry Rocky, I just wanted to check in on the engines – and with Court – and then I’ll go back.”
Court had been just about to say he could go and watch Colt sleep, if that would soothe Rocky, but Ryland had quickly beaten him to it. It was his turn to look queryingly at Ry. “I can go, kiddo – and check the engines if you’re still tired?”
“No, honestly, it’s fine.” Ryland said, making a ‘stay there’ motion with his free hand. “You just … sit for a bit. I’m good.” He smiled at Court, and Court scrutinised him for a moment to make sure the sentiment was real and not Ry trying to deflect because he was struggling again.
“Alright,” Court said slowly, seeing that Ry really was being sincere. “Hey, where do we keep the paper again? I keep losing track of all the stuff that’s in here.”
Ryland pointed out a wide drawer that, when pulled out, revealed not only paper but the printer too. He disappeared into the control room, his quilt swishing gently behind him.
“Weird,” Court muttered to himself. He felt like he’d missed something, an intention or leap of logic Ry had decisively made without him. His eyes found Rocky, pacing back and forth in the tunnel by his head. “He won’t be long, bud, don’t worry. Colt’s fine.”
“What is purpose of this, question?” Rocky said, ceasing his pacing and tapping in the direction of the slingshot.
“Well,” Court said, lowering his voice. “If you and Ry go back to the dormitory now, you can ask him to input new words into your database.”
“Good, good, good.” Rocky said, doing a small rendition of jazz hands.
“But this,” Court held up the slingshot, “is in case that plan fails.” He grabbed a sheet of paper, tore a strip from it and crumpled it into a tiny ball. Fitting it against the rubber band, Court pinched it, drew it back, and released the miniature projectile at the xenonite.
Rocky flinched, chirping in surprise. He then rushed forward, pressing two claws against the panel, reminding Court forcibly of a child at a zoo enclosure. “Amaze! Small weapon for maximum annoyance!”
Court snapped his fingers at Rocky, “Precisely.”
“I think we’re all good,” Ryland had returned. “Everything seems nominal, and we’re back to the power we had a few days ago.” He raised his coffee mug to his lips, and Court saw an opportunity he just could not pass up.
Being a Sierra agent meant he had exceptional aim with a firearm. Being an older brother on a mission meant that exceptional aim translated across to a slingshot. A small wad of paper landed with a dismal plip into the dregs of Ryland’s coffee.
Ry looked down at it for a full ten seconds.
“Don’t –” Court began, knowing exactly what Ryland was contemplating.
He drained the mug.
“Ew, Ry!”
“Grace disgust!” Rocky chimed in, slanting his legs so his whole carapace inched away from Ryland.
Ryland shrugged. “I’m not wasting good coffee.” He wandered back toward the dormitory, swinging the empty mug loosely from one hand.
“Well, that didn’t work.” Court said. “I’ll try again later. For now,” he looked at Rocky. “Your turn.”
***
If this wasn’t so ridiculous, Court thought, watching Rocky’s anger over Ry’s betrayal, I’d be mad that yet another plan hasn’t worked.
Rocky, once everyone had settled into the dormitory had, very evenly and logically, started a conversation with Ryland about how he wanted to be able to begin using more and more Eridian as they got closer to his home planet. Either Rocky was a master manipulator, or there were grains of truth in his words. He’d told Ry that he missed being able to communicate how Eridians usually would with one another and, although he was on his way home, it was important to Rocky that he was able to reclaim some of his identity before they got there.
Ryland, soft-hearted as he was, had actually gone slightly misted eyed at that, and immediately reached for his two duct-taped laptops and phone combination that acted as the central system for the translation software.
Court and Colt – the latter having woken up in a foul mood, not because of his bruised ribs but because his first proper mission had been cleaning based – had been treated to a little more of Ryland’s Eridianese fluency. He couldn’t physically speak it, of course, but he identified patterns of notes and even named those notes and chords as Rocky spoke. The symbiosis between the pair as they expanded their dictionary was genuinely lovely to observe.
And then Rocky had casually brought up expressions of high emphasis, to be used in great emotional states or when in pain.
Ryland had raised an eyebrow at him. “Rock, we’ve talked about this.”
“No, Grace talked and then decided for Rocky. I ask to be heard as part of crew of ship.” Rocky said.
“Hey, he’s got a point, Ry,” Court put in, chucking a balled up sock at Ryland’s head. Laundry day had been forfeited in favour of fixing the spin-drives. “What’s the harm in hearing him out?”
Court felt Colt’s gaze settle on him, and he made a mental note to tone down the persuasion. Although he wanted to win the bet he’d made with Rocky, Court also wanted to keep his operation secret for a little while longer. He was having too much fun.
“Hmm, okay.” Ry pushed his glasses up his nose. “Go on, then.” He flapped a hand at Colt. “Help me out here.”
Eridian cussing sounded much prettier than Earth’s. Although, Court supposed, that was going to be the only case when a language was made up of music and something like whalesong.
And, much to his consternation and – he had to admit – astoundment at Ry’s strict lexical code, Ryland did not once offer a definition for any of the words Rocky sang and then did his best to give the definition of.
Colt, on the other hand, was having the time of his life, bad mood entirely forgotten.
Half an hour later, Ryland finished typing, tapping in the last letter of the word with a sharp jab of his finger. “Done.”
“Try it out,” Colt said eagerly, kneeling on his bunk in a messy pile of sheets and pillows.
“Frick.” Said Rocky.
“Huh?” Colt looked between Ryland and the Eridian, who had hunched down a little in confusion. “What –?”
Which had led to now. “Sugar. Goodness gracious. Jeez. Holy moley. Cheese and crackers. Grace!”
“Hail Mary sanctioned curse words.” Ryland said, leaning back and settling with his hands behind his head. “Go wild.”
“🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎵🎶,” Rocky said, beating his fists on the xenonite.
“Yeah, I don’t want to know what you’re calling me right now.” Ry said benignly.
“Ry, c’mon, you could give him a few swear words.” Court said, feeling faintly bad that his plan had backfired this spectacularly on Rocky.
“I was here first, I get to make the rules.” Ryland said, clearly not above pettily weaponising his time alone. “The Hail Mary is a swear-free zone. At least, for me and Rocky it is.”
“Yeah, it so sounds like he’s singing your praises right now,” Colt said, gesturing to Rocky who was making, what Court assumed, his equivalent of the middle finger in Ryland’s direction whilst still grumbling at him in untranslated Eridian.
“He loves me really.”
“Grace frick off, statement.”
***
Of all the places he’d ever been cornered in his life, Court had to admit that the beginnings of a greenhouse aboard a spaceship had to be simultaneously the most pleasant, and the most bizarre.
They’d refurbished the room where the beetles had once been stored. The plastic insulation on the walls had been taped down to tightness, and Rocky had made several smaller xenonite spheres, which were pressurised to Erid’s super-heated atmosphere. They were dotted around the room, and with the hatch door closed, the room became very warm, very quickly. Condensation dotted the plastic sheeting, beading into droplets and settling like tiny gemstones on the leaves of the plants.
The seedlings were in neat rows either side of the metal walkway. Court would have liked more of them, but recognised that gardening was an exponential process and that he had to be patient.
Colt, it turned out, was a man of many depths and enigmas. Whilst Rocky was their engineer, Colt had still stepped into the role of fix-it guy, shadowing Rocky and doing what the Eridian couldn't, being perpetually stuck behind xenonite. But he’d also become – for want of a better word – the Hail Mary’s gardener.
Colt had tried to persuade them to call him the ‘plant wrangler’, but Court flat out refused and Ryland had just laughed at him.
Court wandered along the walkway, crouching here and there to gently lift a stem or leaf up so he could see it better. The sensation of something green and alive on his skin sent ripples of emotion through him. A little piece of Earth, all the way out here. Bittersweet was the word for it, and Court found himself smiling fondly whilst also battling an ache behind his eyes.
“They look good,” Court said as footsteps reached his ears. He turned and looked up at Colt, who was wiping his soil-stained hands on his jumpsuit trousers.
“Yeah, they do – I’m still hoping for some of the strawberry plants to take, but we’ll just have to wait and see.” Colt shuffled his feet on the metal walkway, looking at the dirt beneath his nails and then shoving his hands in his pockets.
Court sat down, cross-legged, and waited for Colt to say whatever it was he clearly wanted to.
“What are you doing?” Colt eventually blurted out.
Court looked at him, confused. “Sitting? Admiring the fact that you actually do have capacity for patience.”
“Ha ha.” Colt said flatly. He came over and sat beside Court. “No, I mean … with Ry.”
I win, Court thought. Sorry Rocky, you overestimated the time it takes for Colt to sniff out idiocy.
“What? What do you mean?” He said, wanting to draw it out as much as possible.
“Why are you deliberately winding Ry up?” Colt asked, gazing Court dead in the eyes.
Oh, maybe he hasn’t got there, damn it.
“I’m … not.” Court said, now beginning to feel like he was being interrogated. There was a flintiness to Colt’s eyes that Court only saw when someone was messing with his family. It had very rarely been directed at him, and Court found he didn’t like it.
“Hmm. Okay, but just – just don’t push it too far, Court, yeah?” Colt said imploringly, with a slightest hint of ice lining his tone.
“Colt, yesterday you told him to stop breathing in your direction and threatened to jettison all of his socks.” Court wondered where all this was suddenly coming from, and felt a lurch of panic that he’d overstepped some invisible line. Perhaps Ryland had asked Colt to have a word, too worried to tell Court outright to stop whatever it was he was doing.
Operation Make Ryland Swear was still in full force after adding new words to Rocky’s Earth dictionary hadn’t worked. Court had been making good use of his slingshot – not just on Ry, but on Colt too – and the floor of the Hail Mary was now semi-littered with little paper projectiles.
Court had also taken to drawing smiley faces on things that absolutely did not require them. The microscope in the lab had been his latest vandalisation project, and whilst Ry hadn’t been looking, he’d snagged his little brother’s forgotten glasses and carefully placed them on said microscope over the face. At least that one had made Colt laugh, spotting the new anthropomorphised member of the crew as Ry tore the lab apart looking for them.
“Yeah, I did say that. But I’m allowed, so my point still stands.” Colt said.
“Hang on, why are you allowed to annoy him, but I’m not? This feels unfair.” Court said, folding his arms and trying hard to keep a teenager’s bitterness out of his voice.
“Because I’m used to doing it, so I know when to stop.” Colt said. He leaned forward, honesty in his expression. “I’m not, like, having a go at you or anything, and it’s actually really nice to see you cut loose a bit. But I’m just telling you that it’s important to know when it’s enough.”
Despite the small twist of nausea Court felt thinking he might have pushed it too far, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride and affection for Colt, so willing as he was to stand in front of Ry and protect him from whatever may come his way. It was times like these that Courtland realised he must have done a pretty decent job in raising the twins.
“I understand – thank you, kiddo.” Court smiled, reaching out and gripping Colt’s shoulder. “Appreciate it.”
Colt nodded, the tension draining from his frame. “Like I say, not mad, just letting you know.”
“Has Ry said he wants me to stop?” Court asked, needing to know how much to tone down his efforts.
“No, not at all. I think he’s also enjoying watching you have some fun, to be honest. But I wanted to talk to you before it got to that.” Colt looked at him curiously. “Why have you suddenly decided to be like this?”
“I –” Court started. He could tell him about the Operation, that all this came from a single stupid conversation with Rocky that had, perhaps, edged over into a slightly monomanic obsession rooted in boredom. He could also tell Colt that sometimes, he had simply had enough of carrying the role of responsible one, but he didn’t want to make Colt feel bad.
He settled on expressing half of what he felt, leaving enough room so that Colt could work out what went in the gaps without Court actually having to say it. “I just haven’t really had the chance to. I could goof around with you when you were kids, sure, but then …” Court shrugged, hoping that the gesture would convey too many missed years and a flawed legal system that kept them apart.
“Aw, Court.” Colt breathed.
So much for not making him feel bad, excellent job, Courtland.
“Anyway, I just think being trapped in a tin can hurtling through space was the best opportunity I could have asked for to figure out, finally, how to push your buttons.” Court said, trying for some levity. “I don’t expect to take your first place podium on being the most tedious, though.”
“Get lost,” Colt said, grinning and pushing Court backwards. He sobered a little, saying, “I’m glad you’re doing it now, but neither me or Ry begrudge you that time away, you know that, right?”
Court nodded, back to fighting tears that, this time, had nothing to do with the greenery that was steadily beginning to bloom around them. Those years away had given him nothing but well honed poker-faces, stony silences and walls that, at one point, he had felt were insurmountable. Perhaps these years could give him the chance to relearn a little bit of who he once was, before Dad, before prison, before the Sierra Program.
Some of this must have shown on his face, because Colt reached out and pulled Court in for a hug. “Keep going. I’ll keep you in line.”
Court laughed thickly. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”
They broke apart just as Ryland appeared in the entryway, and breathlessly asked, “Have either of you seen my glasses?”
“No, sorry, bud.” Court answered easily, getting to his feet and offering a hand to help Colt up. “Have you asked Rocky? He can see through walls, y’know.”
Ry rolled his eyes, “Rocky told me to come ask you.”
Court shrugged nonchalantly. “Can’t help you then, I’m afraid.” Alright, perhaps he had to admit that having a superb poker face could be a useful tool at times. He could feel the glee practically radiating from Colt; clearly, this wasn’t a step too far. “Have you tried the lab?”
Ryland groaned and spun around, stomping back down the hallway, muttering. Unfortunately, there was no swearing in the undertone.
“How long are you going to let him look?” Colt asked mildly.
“Hey, I defer to you, you’re my teasing Ry litmus test.”
“Oh, this you can keep going for as long as you want.” Colt said. “It’s always hilarious to watch him go mad looking for them when they’re on top of his head.”
***
Operation Make Ryland Swear took a short hiatus over the next two days. Court had taken Colt’s words to heart, and was determined to keep it a balancing act between reclaiming and relearning how to be a kid, and making sure that Ry was all right.
He wasn't. He’d woken everyone up in the dormitory, yelling.
Court had stirred at the sound of whimpers, thinking muzzily it was just Rocky making little noises to amuse himself as the others slept. But then the whimpers had become louder, formed words, and Court recognised Ry’s voice.
“No, no, please, Rock, you gotta – Rocky!”
And then he had started to cry out wordlessly, the sheer terror and desperation there sending shards of ice straight into Court’s heart. He was over at Ryland’s side in an instant, Colt jerking up and looking frantically around, trying to place the sudden noise.
“What’s –”
“Hey, hey, Ry, Ryland you’re okay, take a breath, kiddo. We’re all right here.” Court had placed a hand on Ry’s chest, keeping him steady as his little brother bolted upright from bed, nearly cracking his head on the xenonite as he did so.
Colt said nothing, and instead clambered over from his bunk into Ry’s, settling down beside him and holding him in a loose embrace.
Ryland had clearly been dreaming about the aftermath of Adrian: he only calmed down entirely when Rocky’s desperate pleas for him to look up and see and hear him broke through Ry’s panic. He kept his right arm curled closely to his chest the entire time, and when the lights cycled into a new morning, Ry reached for his fox cardigan and held the sleeves down firmly over his palms for the whole day.
After that night, the Hail Mary had experienced two days of relative peace and quiet, broken only with the occasional small escapade perpetrated by Colt that, Court knew, was designed to try and get Ryland to smile. Court received a taste of his own medicine – not a single meal nor drink could go by without a small wad of paper landing neatly in it.
Once it became apparent that Ry was steadily working his way back to an even footing, and had stopped ghosting Rocky’s movements throughout the ship as an act of self-reassurance, did Court ponder resuming all mission operations.
Rocky, by this point, had declared it was a waste of time and that they would never succeed which, Court found, he had to begrudgingly agree with. Ryland was, unknowingly on his part this time, far too stubborn.
Not quite ready to give up entirely, Court tested the proverbial waters three days after the nightmare, drawing another smiley face – in erasable whiteboard pen, he wasn’t insane – on the outside of Ry’s preferred EVA suit helmet. The visual dissonance of Ry’s flatly disappointed face overlaid with a cartoonish smile had Court wishing for a camera and photograph printing supplies.
Unfortunately, Ryland hadn’t stayed inside the Hail Mary long enough for Court to fetch a laptop and finagle the webcam into taking a picture.
***
Much to Court’s chagrin, Rocky technically won the bet, as, by now, a week had come and gone and Colt still didn’t know the true purpose behind Court’s new lighthearted attitude. If he was being entirely truthful with himself, Court was beginning to forget the reason too.
He had noticed an answering change in Colt and Ry as well. As Courtland allowed himself to step down a little where he could and not control the minutiae of the Hail Mary and its crew every second, the twins had stepped up.
Court had always assumed that Colt and Ryland functioned at an unspoken level of equilibrium he could never hope to understand nor join in with. But now, he realised that the three of them shared the same wavelength, and all Court had to do was trust his brothers to pick up the slack when he couldn’t hold it anymore. And the gaps none of them could fill were now occupied by Rocky, slotting into their dynamic so easily it was becoming difficult to remember a time he hadn’t been there.
Court still made it obvious that he was available and willing to be the one who held others up, when they needed it.
He had spent the day by Ry’s side, after the nightmare, sitting quietly with him and only talking when he could sense Ryland beginning to drift a little too deeply into his own mind. He had swapped out the endless mugs of coffee for water when it became apparent that Ryland was trying to fight sleep, and then eventually made him drink a cup of chamomile tea to help settle him for bed.
He had listened to Rocky that same night, who had been upset that Ryland was still haunted by what had happened to them both above Adrian. The Eridian had confided that he was beginning to regret naming the planet after his mate – beautiful it may be, but it was now tied up with tragedy and fear. Court had asked many questions about the Adrian waiting for Rocky at home, and listened with avid interest as Rocky – quite literally – sang his mate’s praises.
A few days later, when Colt had seen the tiniest green bud of what would become a strawberry plant and then cried, remembering that Jody loved strawberries and cream on a hot summer’s day, Court had held onto him. They passed an hour together, swapping stories about the two people they’d left behind, determined to hang on to all the little details they could.
And when Court found himself sitting alone in the lab’s bay window, staring off into space and feeling very small, the other three had, one by one, found him and joined him, until the blackness beyond didn’t feel so big after all.
***
They were sitting in the Don’t Go Crazy Room, having resurrected a very old and much loved tradition. According to the computer’s calendar, it was a Sunday, and with nothing outstanding to do on the ship, Court had ushered them all in to watch Sunday morning cartoons.
Explaining what a ‘cartoon’ was to Rocky had been both intellectually challenging and highly amusing. Ryland had pulled up some how-to videos from their archives on animation, whilst Colt produced a block of post-it notes from the lab and sat, in deep concentration, making a little flick book for Rocky. The Eridian had asked Colt to show him five times, cooing in amazement as a stick figure man jumped off a building and landed, a super cool – Colt’s words – explosion going off behind him.
As Rocky begged Colt to do it again, Ry left the room, returning a few minutes later with as many pillows and blankets he could carry stacked haphazardly in his arms.
“May as well go the full mile,” he said, dumping Colt’s pillow on his head and dropping the patchwork quilt over Rocky’s ball.
“Grace stupid, Rocky can still see.” The ball inched backward a little, making Court chuckle, the effect being that Hail Mary was now haunted by a very colourful, very portly, slightly sassy ghost.
They made themselves comfortable, a few petty squabbles breaking out over who got the most blankets and who had the fewer cushions. Court broke Colt and Ry up with a well-meaning whack from a pillow each, and a comfortable quiet fell between the four of them, the acid-washed colours of 1990s cartoons playing on the screens in front of them.
“Maybe it’s wrong of me to say this,” Ryland said softly, shuffling a little closer to Court so their shoulders pressed against one another. “And I don’t want you to take it the wrong way but …” He faltered.
“You can say anything you like to me, kiddo, you know that.” Court said. “Go on.”
“I really like the person you are up here.” Ry’s voice was small, as if he were already planning his verbal – or perhaps even physical – retreat. “Not that I didn’t like who you were before, of course,” he hastened to add. “But the majority of memories I now have of you, you always seemed …”
“Seemed like?” Court pressed gently.
“Like you were holding something back. Like bits of you were locked up and no one really had or knew where the key was. Even you.” Ryland ducked his head slightly. “Sorry, that’s not –”
“You’re completely correct, Ry.” Court said, leaning down a little so he could meet Ry’s eyes. “We left behind a lot on Earth, all of us. And some of that is painful, I’ll admit – but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad that that person I once was got left behind too.” He smiled, and marvelled at how easily the peace flowed through him. Court wondered how he would have felt then, if he’d known that once they left Earth’s atmosphere, the parts of himself he had never truly liked and had been forced to cultivate would remain in its orbit.
“Oh.” Ryland’s gaze flickered to Court’s.
“I’m still your big brother, there'll never be a time that isn’t true. I’ll always be here for you, and Colt – and I’ll always be the first line of defence. But being up here has helped me learn to be a kid again, and I have to say, Ry, it’s incredible.” Court looked up at the screens, letting sepia-toned nostalgia wash over him, listening to Colt adamantly telling Rocky why Fred was the most valuable member of the Scooby Gang, even if his traps never worked.
When Ryland didn’t answer, Court turned his attention back to him. Ry was beaming, and Court basked in it.
“Do you want to know what actually brought all this about?” Court said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Rocky knows.”
Ryland looked intrigued and nodded.
“Well –” Court began, but before he could get any further he was interrupted by Colt, who shoved all his blankets into Ry’s lap and stood.
“I’m seeing if Armando has hot chocolate, does anyone want anything?”
“Ry’s going to say ‘coffee’ because he’s entirely predictable, but I’ll have a hot chocolate if there is any.” Court said, leaning back onto the palms of his hands. As Colt picked his way over the pair of them and left, Court looked to Ryland and said, “What are the odds Stratt packed us hot chocolate?”
Ry snorted. “Zero.”
“What is thing Colt is going to fetch, question?” Rocky asked, setting down his crystal camera now that the episode was paused.
“Hot chocolate.” Ryland said. “It’s a drink but it’s sweet and kind of like a dessert. A treat, I guess you could call it.”
“Human food, gross.” Rocky said, shuddering in a way that Court knew was over emphasised for dramatic effect.
“Hey, that’s fine by me, pal, it means I can have your share.” Ry said, pretending to punch the side of Rocky’s ball. That started a shadow-boxing match between the pair, which Court watched and then began to commentate on, his descriptions growing steadily more wild.
“And here’s Rocky with the steel – oh, hey Colt, that was fast.” He turned to look as Colt’s footsteps alerted Court to his presence. The light mood he’d been feeling evaporated instantaneously. Colt’s expression was panicked. “What’s wrong?”
Ryland stopped playing at being crushed by Rocky’s ball and sat up, looking between them anxiously. “Colt?”
“Okay, so just – just stay calm.” Colt said, raising his hands in an attempt at a soothing gesture. “There’s literally nothing we can do.”
Court and Ryland both immediately shot to their feet, Rocky coming to rest at Ry’s knee and warbling in alarm.
“What’s happened?” Court said sharply.
“What do we need to do?” Ry asked, setting a steadying hand on Rocky’s ball.
Colt took a deep breath, as if preparing for a plunge into cold water. “We’re out of coffee.”
A beat passed. And then what Colt had said sunk in and Court stormed forward, prodding Colt in the chest. “Why the fuck did you say it like that? I thought the ship was about to explode or something! Christ, Colt!”
Court leaned over, resting his forearms on his legs, taking a moment to catch his breath and calm the hammer of his heart. He also took a moment mentally to berate Colt and his incredible lack of tact on occasion.
“I thought you’d classify that as an emergency!” Colt said defensively. “Both you and Ry are completely addicted – Ry?”
Court looked up in time to see Ryland scramble off the metal walkway and around them, clamber back up onto it, and practically run from the Don’t Go Crazy Room. The echo of his footfall was moving in the direction of the dormitory.
Court glared at Colt, although with no real heat behind it, and made a shooing gesture. “Move.”
They followed Ry through the halls, Rocky tagging along at their heels and asking why humans liked something that Ryland had once described as ‘bitter’, and that caused ‘obsession need’.
They found him standing at Armando’s side, having an argument with Mary.
“What do you mean, ‘coffee store depleted’?” He was almost shouting, head craned back to address the ceiling.
“The ship’s supply of coffee is depleted, Dr. Grace. Apologies for the inconvenience this may cause.”
“Inconvenience my ass!” Ryland snapped. “This is crucial to the mission and the wellbeing of the fucking crew!”
Court’s jaw dropped. This was what made Ry curse?
“Coffee is not necessary to the crew’s mental or physical health, Dr. Grace,” Mary said calmly. “Reports also show that the supply was eighty-seven percent depleted by yourself, Dr. Grace, which may have led to some adverse physical or mental affects, including –”
“I don’t want to hear it! Stratt knew we’d be pulling long hours – I mean, fucking hell, the woman walked around with two large quadruple espresso-shot coffees at all times! She would pack more!” Ryland was pacing now, pointing accusatorily at Armando.
“I told you it was an emergency,” Colt said.
“All that effort,” Court said dazedly. “All that planning, and this is what tips him over the edge?”
Colt frowned. “What?”
“Rocky thinks Grace is overreacting, statement.” Rocky said. He tapped on the xenonite to get Colt’s attention. “Court and Rocky have been working on secret mission, Operation Make Grace Swear.”
“I knew you were up to something!” Colt said, mimicking his twin somewhat and pointing between Court and Rocky. “Why didn’t you let me in on it?”
“Court said Colt is bad at secrets.”
“Hey, I am not – no, wait, actually … yeah, that’s fair.” Colt deflated and shook his head. He took in Ryland still berating Armando and Mary for him having drunk nearly the entire ship’s supply of caffeine and then turned back to Court. “Does this mean that fun Court goes away now?” Colt’s tone was light, but Court picked up the worry underneath it.
“I’m always fun Court, I don’t know what you mean.” He said smartly. “And look, I’ll even prove it.”
In some of his new, spare time, Court had worked on a little project for when Operation Make Ryland Swear came to an end. He dug around in his pocket and produced his trusty slingshot. And then he reached into his other pocket and pulled out two more.
“There’s test-tubes of paper balls hidden all over the ship.” He said, passing one to Colt, a look of unrestrained delight spreading across his face. “Rocky will keep score. First one to a hundred successfully landed hits, wins.”
“Rocky has placed bets on order of where each Grace’s sibling will be. Grace lose. Luck, luck, luck!” Rocky did a spin. “Rocky do countdown now for beginning.” A quick procession of half-second hums followed his words.
“Ry! Stop arguing with a machine!” Colt yelled, plucking the other slingshot from Court and chucking it at Ryland.
“Ow – what?” Ry fumbled with it as it slid from atop his head. “What’s this for?”
Colt grinned, setting his legs into a slight crouch, ready. “War.” With that, he turned and bolted down the corridor, whooping as he went.
Ryland turned to Court, entirely perplexed. “What is happening?”
“You heard him, kiddo. This is war.”
Something Ry and Colt had yet to learn about their older brother, but were about to imminently: Court was not above cheating. He scooped a handful of projectiles from his pocket and shook them menacingly at Ryland.
“Rocky countdown done! Grace, go, go, go!”
“You’d better get running.”