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Three days is all it takes. Three days after that call for Ryland to be assigned a keeper. Of course, it’s Carl. He doesn’t know if it’s a choice made by Stratt herself or if it was influenced by his colleagues. He had thought he had been doing a good job hiding his misery. At the same time he hadn’t missed the stray looks cast his way. Maybe that wasn’t the issue at all. He knows that even before that call, but now especially he has been neglecting himself. Skipping meals. Depriving himself of sleep. Refusing breaks. It’s better than spiraling with thoughts about Tom or Colt. Better than feeling the impending sense of helplessness in the face of a cosmic single-cell lifeform. When he is locked in on work and science he can stand to feel just a bit more confident. Let himself revel in the fact he is being useful. Even if it comes to his own detriment. He tries to tell himself that it isn’t a form of punishment. He is just busy and focused. Trying to be at least.
Not that he is entirely successful there either.
Ryland doesn’t want the quiet moments that taking a break or going to bed brings him. He craves the distraction of work more than ever. He is tired, not just from a lack of rest, but also from the stress. It’s like his brain can’t stop or pause for a second. If he lets that happen he’ll think about Tom. If he thinks about Tom, he’ll have to go find a quiet place to calm himself. He’s sick of crying. Sick of staring at the bunk above his own trying to sleep. Sick of overthinking. Sick of feeling like he is drowning. Working himself to exhaustion lets him actually get a couple hours of fitful sleep. He knows it's not healthy. He knows he might crash sooner or later. He’s just trying to stay afloat. Barely treading water. He knows that is something Carl is now assigned to facilitate.
Carl doesn’t seem the type for subtlety. He’s been assigned Dr. Grace babysitting duty and he is following through with it. He isn’t invasive with it, still giving Ryland time to himself. He checks in frequently but not in an overbearing way. Ryland doesn’t know how to feel about Carl yet again. The day at the hardware store and the success they had breeding Astrophage feel far off now. Ryland had thought he and Carl were good. He liked having Carl around. Trusted him. Cracks had formed in that trust the day Ryland had been forced on the jet. Carl’s attention and support slowly, pain-stakingly repairing those cracks.
Ryland had initially tried to give Carl the cold shoulder. That didn’t last very long. Carl’s presence alone had managed to wear away at him rather quickly. That and Ryland has always been a chatter box. Especially when he gets into the flow of work. He doesn’t always talk about what he is working on either. His brain can multitask. Carl has been more talkative in return. Ryland doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he can’t help but to connect. It surprises even himself at how easy he’s let Carl back in after what felt like betrayal. He gives himself a bit of an internal lecture for it. He shouldn’t be so ready to trust. Not again.
Ryland doesn’t go to the mess hall to eat in the mornings. Carl starts dropping a protein bar in his hands first thing. Ryland had tried to pocket it the first couple times. Carl had simply held out his hand, taken the bar back, unwrapped it and returned it. Ryland doesn’t bother trying anymore to avoid eating them or whatever other food Carl might drop on him after that. It’s still not optimal. Ryland can recognize that it’s better than before. Begrudgingly. Even if anything more would probably make his stomach turn more than it does already. Anxiety has been a constant for him recently. Making him lose his appetite or feel nausea at almost all times. Another lingering side-effect of the situation he has become trapped in. The only times he eats a reasonable meal is with his colleagues or Carl on the rare occasions he is invited by them. Ryland finds it easier to do so with the added distraction of conversation and company.
The one area Carl hasn’t had much success with is sleep. Ryland knows it's not for a lack of trying. Carl keeps a better schedule than him, but not by much. He has tried to get Ryland to do the same. If not for Ryland’s sake, then for his own, he assumes. Failing that Carl has apparently taken it upon himself to usher Ryland to his bunk. Sometimes he can get him there at a reasonable hour. Not that it helps. Ryland just stays awake in his bunk instead. When that fails, Carl has more than once come to check on him at odd hours to find Ryland asleep at his workstation. Ryland always awakens surprised to find himself in his bunk in the morning on those occasions. It usually takes him a few minutes to wake up before remembering how he had arrived there. Some part of him has the wherewithal to feel thankful for Carl’s intervention. His spine certainly is better off for it.
That’s part of the issue for Ryland. He doesn’t hate it here. He certainly doesn’t hate the people here. They are all literally in the same boat with him. As far as he is aware. Maybe they chose to be here. Or at least had more of a choice than he did. He can’t be the only one here unwillingly. Stratt certainly has the knowledge at her disposal to coerce almost anyone she could want. He can’t be the only one here that is missing someone. He can’t be the only one here feeling homesick. That to some degree feels reassuring. Ryland isn’t sure that really matters, but it makes him feel better to imagine he isn’t alone.
It's the circumstances of it all that he hates. That’s what is keeping him from sleeping and eating properly. The multi-level kidnapping. The pressure to create results. The dread of a ticking clock.
He does what he can to mitigate it. He can’t slow the clock. He can’t “unkidnap” himself. Results are the only thing he can feasibly procure.
Ryland knows there’s rumors going around about him. The name Tom Ryder has been whispered in his vicinity more than once. It stings a little when he hears it. Not because of the rumors, surprisingly. It’s hearing Tom’s name that stings more. Somehow, he has gotten used to being the subject of gossip. Possibly due to what happened over the past several months with his name getting dragged through the mud on social media and the following discourse at the school. Whatever ruckus Tom and Colt had made in searching for him must have started a whole new mess of rumors. Not everyone joined this project early enough to miss it. Ryland can see what Stratt meant by him being a distraction. For every whisper he picks up there must be dozens more.
On a couple occasions while walking with Stratt or Carl from meetings or to his pod he's seen them shut down the gossip with just a look. Stratt is exceptionally skilled at this. Ryland wonders if that's why no one has asked him directly. Maybe the scathing looks have deterred any such possibility. Part of him appreciates it, but it also seems to have made it a little more difficult to connect with his peers. Honestly he doesn’t know if he would mind if someone did ask. It might be nice to have someone to talk to about it. Stratt would probably find it frivolous.
Ryland even feels himself starting to warm up to Stratt. It’s difficult not to when he is around her so often. Stratt drags him every which way and introduces him to almost every single person. She had seemed so indifferent and uncaring, but he’s come to find that it's likely the opposite. She cares so much that she is willing to make the hard choices. She’s willing to let people dislike her if it means she gets the results needed to push this project forward. Ryland can recognize that she has wronged him while still seeing the bigger picture. Some might say he is too forgiving. He is okay with that. Especially when faced with a woman who seemingly has the whole world resting on her shoulders. Yet she still makes time to check in with him and not just about the work directly in his range. It’s probably why she picked up on the fact he was struggling. That he was letting that manifest in unhealthy habits.
The work starts to pay off. Ryland feels optimistic. The first breeder is functional and consistent. They can start scaling production. Ryland wonders if this will be enough. If he can finally go home. That becomes clearly not the case as Stratt gives him more to do. He is no longer just focused on the breeders. It feels like he has some kind of in on every little aspect of the Hail Mary as they come up. He is involved in almost every meeting regardless of where they might occur.
Stratt often wanders through his work area with others, openly discussing any issues that need addressing. Lokken and Stratt walk through his pod over to Komorov, Dimitri his brain corrects, in the adjacent “room”. Her hand ghosts the back of his chair as she apologizes for the intrusion. He doesn’t mind it. In fact it is somewhat welcome.
The Hail Mary needs a lab not dissimilar from the one Ryland is occupying. The equipment that Ryland has is more than enough to be able to process and study almost anything the crew on the Hail Mary might encounter. The problem is most lab equipment doesn’t operate in zero G. The issue isn’t money, it's time. Creating new lab equipment that can function in zero G will take far too long with the necessary and rigorous testing required to ensure reliability. Ryland can’t help but to interject about a centrifuge at Lokken’s solution that they need to make gravity. Embarrassing himself, yet again, with a comment about butter during the civil war. The looks of acknowledgment he receives feel both validating and concerning. Dimitri looks somewhat impressed. Stratt bewildered. Lokken levels him with a much less enthusiastic, critical stare. He has gotten used to the attention to some degree. Still he tries to hide his mortification from the raised eyebrows aimed in his direction.
He’s tasked with coming up with a list of lab equipment in order of priority for the mission.
Stratt asks him if there is any specific software that he can think of that might be needed on the mission laptops. In the end she decides to just get “everything.” He is a bit concerned at what that actually means.
She pulls him away from his lab to talk about the problems that arise by putting three people in a small space for an extended amount of time. The psychological impact could be catastrophic to the mission. Stratt has a solution. Put the crew in comas. It just seems she needs someone to validate it. Ryland can do that. That solution creates a new problem. They need to automate care for the crew when in their comas. She finds someone for that problem too.
Maybe all this is Stratt’s way of helping. He has to admit being pulled every which way does keep his mind away from less positive thoughts. Keeps the guilt and dread at bay. Replacing it, however temporarily, with a sense of accomplishment at problems solved. With curiosity and interest as new problems arise.
It’s not enough.
His mind still drifts to Tom in his few free moments. Is he taking care of himself? Staying out of trouble? Did he go on another bender? Hopefully not. Hopefully he and Colt have been able to work things out and support each other. His feelings have tempered with time. The guilt and despair less raw, but still ever present. Ryland knows better than to ask for another phone call to check in. Eventually this project has to go public. Something this big can’t possibly be kept secret forever. Maybe then this will all get easier. Maybe then they won’t have to hide anymore. Maybe then contact can be made. Maybe then he can feel less like he’s just treading water, one wave away from drowning. He can’t be the only one hoping for this.
******
Stratt pulls him off the carrier for a day. It’s strange after having lived there for almost three weeks to suddenly be brought back to land. Ryland hasn’t really been given a brief on why he is here, in New Zealand. At a prison of all places. It must be relevant if Stratt dragged him along.
It all comes back to time. They aren’t breeding at a high enough scale. Robert Redell is Stratt’s solution. Yet it comes at a huge price. If Ryland were the one making these decisions he would hesitate. He can respect Stratt for having to carry the weight of these choices.
They are going to pave the Sahara Desert.
******
Stratt announces that the project is about to go public to everyone almost a week later. A little over a month since Ryland last heard Tom’s voice. It feels like one of the few metrics he drifts to when it comes to time. Like he's counting the days. He wonders if Tom has been doing the same.
He had been able to stay busy and ignore the pain for a while. Some days are easier than others. It doesn’t feel like he might drown as often. Between the mountain of work Stratt keeps him busy with and the watchful eye of Carl keeping tabs on him, he hardly has time to spiral into despair. Not entirely, but it’s dampened significantly. Staying ever present at the back of his mind.
His sleep schedule has somewhat improved. Especially now that he feels bad enough having Carl take him to his bunk so frequently that he ends up taking himself. Not that he sleeps much when he gets there. He would bring work with him, but he doesn’t want to disturb his bunkmates. Ryland had noticed the fatigue starting to show on Carl after the first week. By midway through week two he started feeling terrible for subjecting Carl to his odd schedule. Carl has been nothing but nice, if a little grumpy. He doesn’t deserve to deal with the side-effects of Ryland’s baggage.
Stratt gives little details about why the project is going public, but does expand upon what the public will be allowed to know. Once this happens there will be an allotment for everyone to make a call or send out messages as long as it doesn’t distract from the work and they don’t leak anything outside of the information allowed. Phone calls will be monitored and e-mails will need to include a bcc to Stratt for record keeping purposes. Ryland can make a guess at what the catalyst is for this turn of events. Maybe it's the scale of the project moving forward. They haven't started on paving the Sahara yet, but it is coming quickly. He can imagine there’s several other large components in the works that would be hard to keep hidden. Additionally they have yet to get the crew and back-ups selected. Once that happens it feels like it's almost a guarantee that the project will have to go public.
Ryland doesn’t even try to hide the excitement he feels. Finally. Finally he can get in contact with Tom, even if it’s long distance. They’ve done long distance before they can keep doing it. It won’t last forever. Sure, it’ll be monitored, but he’s gotten somewhat used to having eyes on him constantly now. Not that it wasn’t something that had been happening before. The reveal of his relationship with Tom might have prepared him better for being perceived than he realized. Either way having a constant shadow at his side in the form of Carl no longer feels that invasive. Having monitored calls and e-mails doesn’t feel like that big of a deal. It’s a change in the right direction as far as Ryland is concerned.
Stratt dismisses everyone to their work.
Ryland is on his way back to his lab container as Stratt meets his stride on one side and Carl on the other.
“Dr. Grace, please go see Dr. Lamai,” Stratt commands. “After which please find me, before returning to work.”
She continues to walk past him and toward her office. Carl keeps pace as Ryland turns to alter his path to Lamai’s own pod on the hangar bay. Lamai is leading the charge on the care for the crew during their comas. Lamai’s research revealed yet another issue they must contend with. The pool from which they can gather the crew and an additional set of back-ups has significantly reduced as a result. Not everyone can handle an extended coma. Only a small population have the specific genetic marker that would make them viable. Put that variable next to the amount of people who are qualified for the crew and that number is significantly reduced.
Ryland greets Lamai awkwardly, unsure why he is here. He tends to avoid this pod as much as possible. Carl waits near the entrance. Lamai puts on a pair of gloves and grabs a blood draw kit looking at him expectantly.
Ryland returns the look with confusion, “Um… what?”
“Roll up your sleeve, Dr. Grace,” she answers as she starts unwrapping and laying out the necessary implements on a nearby cart.
“Why?” Ryland eyes her suspiciously
“Insurance purposes,” Lamai returns. There is impatience in the way she carries herself. “Now, your arm.”
Ryland shifts awkwardly. He doesn’t trust it. Not really. Insurance purposes. In case someone gets hurt or something goes wildly wrong. Astrophage is volatile. How would any insurance be prepared to cover for that? Lamai’s impatience only increases as she stands there. He doesn’t really feel like he has many options here. If he goes to Stratt to question it now he’ll likely end up back here anyway. One way or another. Carl isn’t the only security on this ship. Not to mention the several navy personnel that Stratt has at her disposal. If he’s going to let someone jab him with a needle, he’d rather make the choice himself. Or at least feel like he is.
He rolls up his sleeve.
Looks away as his blood is drawn.
Two small vials sit on the cart.
He has no idea why.
******
Stratt gives him the same reason when he asks. Ryland kind of feels like it’s bologna. He can’t prove it though. She says everyone is submitting to the blood test, even herself. That somewhat reassures him. It can’t be bad if she is getting tested. She claims that it is just precautionary. If anything happens they can better guarantee that the people involved can receive proper care or that funds are properly allocated to their dependents.
She deflects focus by telling him why Project Hail Mary is going public. She’s being sued. For copyright infringement and patent violations. News cycles will start talking about it as soon as tomorrow, bringing Project Hail Mary into the public eye officially. For some unknown reason, Ryland gets to come along for the ride.
******
The one benefit of traveling with Stratt and a crew of security is that the ride isn’t entirely done on fighter jets or helicopters. It starts with that but ends with a private jet chartered from Hawaii to Washington State. A much smoother and enjoyable ride over all, but still not something Ryland particularly enjoys. There’s very little break between flights due to the nature of everything being privately booked. No time for a breather. He is surprised at how much he actually misses having the reprieve of a lay-over. Something that used to feel inconvenient now feels like it would be a great opportunity to settle his stomach. Stratt somehow can stay completely work focused in flight. Ryland tries to do the same. He is successful at first, but his focus wanes as they get closer to their destination.
A part of him realizes this is the closest he’s been to home in over a month as they disembark the plane. They divide into two vehicles. Stratt in the first with two security agents and a driver. Himself with Carl and a driver in the second. He doesn’t know if Tom is in L.A. or Australia or some other third location, but he can’t stop the pull at his heartstrings that comes with the proximity. Somehow over 1000 miles feels like nothing in comparison to the distance he’d been dealing with this whole time.
“Feels strange being this close to home after so long,” Ryland remarks looking out the window.
“You get used to it,” Carl responds. “Home starts becoming people rather than places after a while.”
Ryland looks toward him with a look of disbelief. Not at what he said, but the fact he said it at all. He doesn’t know if Carl can see it through the front mirror.
It becomes clear when he responds while turning in his seat slightly, “What?”
“I think that’s the most personal thing you’ve ever said,” Ryland answers honestly, leaning slightly more to the side. Positioning himself so they can talk face to face easier. It’s a bit awkward with Carl in the seat right in front of him. He’s not trying to tease Carl. In fact he appreciates the sentiment. Carl’s words really do ring true for Ryland. He hadn’t really considered it that way before, but with how busy he and Tom both are it does truly feel like home could be anywhere as long as Tom is there.
“We’re not all open books like you, Grace,” Carl smirks.
“I’m not… I’m not an open book,” Ryland tries to argue. He knows he’s not the quiet mysterious type, but come on.
“Sure,” Carl returns with a raised brow.
“We can’t all be as aloof as you, Carl,” Ryland is tempted to poke him in the arm for emphasis. He holds back. He knows better than to take that gamble. He’d like to keep all his fingers intact. “You know, it feels unfair that I call you by your first name all the time.”
“I’m not calling you by your first name,” Carl turns away. Facing front, putting an end to that conversation with just that.
“Always such a stick in the mud,” Ryland mutters, still loud enough for Carl to hear. Ryland can pivot. Try something else. “So, you got family somewhere on the west coast?”
“Nah mostly in the midwest,” Carl answers. It’s definitely a bit jarring. Ryland expected him to shut him down immediately.
He decides to push his luck, “Siblings?”
“One,” Carl pauses shortly. Like he’s trying to decide how much he wants to elaborate. He keeps it short, “a brother.”
“How ‘bout a significant other?” Ryland leans closer. Carl is actually sharing. Sure they talk, but it's rare that Carl actually tells him anything about himself. And, well, Ryland is curious.
“Nah,” Carl shrugs. Ryland frowns at the response. That’s kind of a bummer. Carl’s a good guy. The way Carl reacts proves he probably said that outloud. Cursed brain to mouth filter failing him. “That’s enough of this.”
Ryland sits back in his seat looking back out the window. The rest of the ride is silent between them. Not uncomfortable. Ryland is surprised that Carl was even willing to share that little bit with him. Maybe all his yapping finally wore him down. Maybe Carl feels the same homesickness he does. Ryland doesn’t ask, already knowing that he won’t receive any answers. At least he has some stuff he can talk about with Carl about. They both have brothers. That’s something. Ryland knows he has his own fun stories about Colt. Carl has to have a few of his own brother. Ryland will take the conversation as a win.
They pull up on the street in front of the courthouse. Carl exits first. Ryland follows shortly after. Stratt and her two security agents lead the way up the many concrete steps leading to the building.
There's a man sitting on a bench nearby in his periphery. Ryland is struck by some strange feeling as he starts to turn to get a better look. That doesn’t make sense. His mind must be playing tricks on him. Recognition turns into doubt. It evaporates quickly as the distraction makes him stumble on a step. Carl catches him, pulling his attention even further.
He mutters a thank you to Carl and laughs at the unimpressed yet amused look he receives in return.
The moment is forgotten as they enter the building before them.
********
The wait from their arrival to the time the judge takes the bench is longer than the trial itself. Ryland feels awe and fear in equal measure. Stratt and by extension the power she wields is truly terrifying. Exceptionally so now that he knows just how great that power is. He had some idea, given the fact that she’s been operating Project Hail Mary so efficiently. Not hitting many roadblocks that would seem more consistent if she didn’t have the power to bulldoze directly through them.
The case is dismissed in less than five minutes. A measly 20 minutes passed since they came through the doors.
As they start their exit, one of the two agents with Stratt makes a call with their wireless headset to have the cars pull back to the front to pick them up. They make their way out and start down the stairs. About halfway down both agents pause as well as Carl. Ryland feels Carl stop his descent with a hand to his chest, not even looking at Ryland. All three agents look up and over to the left. The reason becomes clear following their line of sight. There’s a commotion kitty-corner across the nearest intersection. One of their two cars is sitting in the apron of the parking lot with the second just behind. The driver is out of the vehicle crouched by a man laying on the pavement, blocking the view. An accident?
One of the security agents leans to whisper to Stratt. Ryland hangs back behind everyone. It’s not quiet enough that Ryland doesn’t catch some of it. A pedestrian stepped in front of the car suddenly. Stratt nods and sends him to go help with the situation.
Stratt turns to address the rest of them, “Let's go back inside till this resolves.”
Ryland follows on the outskirts. Carl puts a hand up to his ear, another radio call. Ryland locks on to the same man who had caught his attention before. He's walking toward them, pace casual, hands at his sides. Ryland can see Carl reaching for him in his periphery. It takes another moment of disbelief before Ryland finally starts to put pieces together. At this distance it's nearly impossible not to. He's seen disguises similar to this too many times before. Even with his hair fully covered, eyes hidden and wearing an outfit devoid of any of the usual flair, that is unmistakably Tom.