Chapter Text
It had been three weeks since Eva Stratt's imprisonment. Sentenced to life for her crimes against the environment in her pursuit for safety of the human race. How ironically depressing. The cell was nicer than she would have expected. Cold, but cushioned. Her bed had plenty of blankets and pillows, and it was in a quiet corner of the prison. Whether or not that was a good thing was yet to be seen.
The food was alright. About on par with the food she'd feasted upon the ship while they prepared for the end of the world. Her days were just as bleak though. Same routine day in and day out. Breakfast, yard time (separate from the other prisoners of course. Couldn't have sympathizers trying to help her break out), lunch, break time, and dinner. Over and over again. The routine wasn't the issue.
The lack of pressure, of momentum and chaos was the worst part. She'd grown so accustomed to working on deadlines, fighting with what was possible and redefining the word, that the sudden silence of it all was deafening. She yearned to have something to work on. Training reports, organizing data to get from point A to point B. Negotiating with nations or convincing a teacher that he could help save the world.
She was idle now. Trapped. And Eva Stratt never stood still for long.
Three weeks earlier...
"The International Environmental Safety Justice Court hereby finds Eva Stratt to be guilty on all 32 counts of endangerment, destruction, and harm to the planet. As such, she is sentenced to 40 years in prison."
The words went in one ear and out the other. It didn't matter at this point. The Hail Mary was already light years away, and by the time her sentence was over the probes would have returned. It would all be worth it.
Cameras flashed everywhere. It was just blinding enough to flare the remains of her caffeine withdrawal headache. No matter.
People were shouting as she rose from her seat. The guards escorting her out were polite enough. Protesters in the back of the room screamed and shook their signs, pledging their support. She tried to give them a small nod of acknowledgement. Though, the look on her face likely negated the effects.
She knew she would face the consequences of decisions she’d made. After all, world leaders appointed her to make the tough calls. The ones they couldn’t stomach. After centuries of war, genocide, famine and the likes, they couldn’t do what she was forced to.
But she did it. And Earth would be saved. That’s what mattered. Not what happened to her. Not what came once she was behind bars. But after. When the probes returned, when the threat was dealt with.
She may not be forgiven, but she would be understood.
The masses would be divided for decades to come. Many of them would forgive her. Fight for her. Advocate for a lighter sentence, or even her release. Others would argue she got off too easy. Would go out of their way to make their hatred known. Some would hate her simply for being a woman at the top of the food chain. It was nothing new.
The crowds were nothing but walls of movement and noise as she was paraded out of the courthouse. The streets were lined with faces all screaming nonsensical bullshit. It meant nothing.
The probes would return. Earth would be safe.
She was led to a black suburban, security shoving the throngs of bodies away. Black opaque glass, bullet proof and built like a tank.
She ducked her head, ready to climb in when a flash of color forced her eyes up.
On the side of the building across the street was a new mural. Dirt and rain had yet to touch its pristine lines. Sharp and bright.
A strong, straight nose and wide blue eyes stared out from the coated bricks. Wire rim glasses sitting neatly atop the graffitied face. The hair was too neat, and the posture too straightbacked to be entirely correct. But there was no mistaking who it was.
She sat and stared at Dr. Ryland Grace. The man currently hurtling his way toward an entirely different solar system, fast asleep.
The grass stains she remembered were not depicted. Neither were the tears. Or the way his cheeks turned ruddy, his eyes stormy gray. Then again, how could the artist have known. Her last memories of him weren’t exactly public knowledge.
It didn’t matter.
She continued to stare until her head was forced into the car, and she was driven towards her sentence.
One Month Later…
Eva Strat was sitting in the yard by herself.
It wasn’t unusual to find Stratt by herself. It was rare for her to socialize, and the other prisoners always took special interest in the unlucky participant when she did choose to speak. It was never meaningless.
Eva Stratt didn’t waste her words.
So no one noticed when she sat alone on a bench today. When she stared at the dying grass while the others formed their usual groups or made the rounds to other prisoners.
She sat and stared.
Wire rim glasses and dirty blond hair danced behind her eyes, but to anyone else, she just looked like the same stoic inmate they met the day she was booked.
Screaming murder, long silver needles, and white knuckle grip.
There was a small patch of green grass to her left she fixated on. No one knew why everything around it had died.
Clouds swirled overhead as the wind slowly picked up. Guards began to take notice, slow to suggest they move things indoors.
Stratt remained exactly where she was as rain began to fall.
The rest of the inmates headed inside, cursing as they all felt the water begin to pummel the Earth.
Eva Stratt remained on the bench. Silently wishing for a yellow rain jacket.
3 Months Later…
Eva Stratt was laying in bed, counting sheep as she tried to sleep. The highest she’d ever gotten was 8,706.
Tonight just may break her record however.
The counting helped. Counting steps, counting strands of hair, counting how many fries she was given at lunch.
It was methodical. Simple. Predictable.
There were no other variables. Nothing emotional about it. No complex movement or obstacles to overcome.
It was just math. And math was much easier than dreams.
6 Months Later…
Eva Stratt had read every single book in the prison library. She had gotten very good at reading in Spanish.
Today she had just finished re-reading a book on time travel. It was highly fictitious, flouncy and childlike. But it was something to do.
She checked it back in, and asked the same question she asked each week.
“One new addition this week. Something about space. I kept in in the desk.” the librarian gave her a small smile. She did not return it.
Soon a new book sat in front of her.
The Basic Theorems of Astrophage and the Death of Earth by Charles Carter.
She slid it back across the desk and left the room.
8 Months Later…
Eva Stratt checked out the book. Everything else she’d read at least twice. And new books didn’t come around often she’d learned.
It took very little time to read it, seeing as she already knew everything it detailed. It did, however, take a lot of concentration.
So she only read in the privacy of her own cell, curled into her bed during quiet hours. She spent a lot of time going over the credits at the end of it. Looking at who was cited, which papers and which researchers.
She knew all of them.
Worked with all of them.
Recruited all of them.
Killed two of them.
And sent another on a suicide mission.
She closed the book and began counting sheep.
9 Months Later…
Eva Stratt has read the book on astrophase 6 times now. Checking, double checking, triple checking the facts. The timeline of the Hail Mary.
She kept a mental tally of liftoff to touch down. Of screaming to silence.
To theoretical disgust and betrayal.
Not that she would ever have to deal with it.
12 Months Later…
Eva Stratt murdered Dr. Ryland Grace over a year ago. Eva Stratt saved planet Earth and more than 3 billion people. She killed her best friend. But she saved the solar system.
And now she sits in prison. And waits for the probes to return.