Chapter Text
“What is two plus two?” asks a monotonous voice.
The answer comes easily to me. It’s almost insulting how easily. “Four?”
“What is the cube root of eight?”
Same deal. “Two.”
Finally: “What is your name?”
“Abby Collins.”
I’m lying on my back on something soft. A bed? No, I’m in space, remember? It must be a cot of some kind, attached to the wall like on the Hail Mary. I must have just woken from my induced coma. I’m awake but can’t see anything. My eyes are closed, I realize. Time to open them. I do so and light floods my retinas.
“Eye movement detected,” says the voice.
It hurts really bad, and I cry out. I raise my arms to block out the light. At least those work. What else works? I wiggle my toes, clench my jaw. Everything, apparently. The pain dissipates, and I remove my arms from my face. Above me, robot arms - they seem more like tentacles - dangle from the ceiling, eyeing my every move. On my skin, I feel the characteristic sensation of EKG sensors. In my left arm I feel an IV; it’s insanely uncomfortable, but what can I do?
“Body movement detected,” says the voice again. It clearly belongs to the robot arms, or more accurately, the ship’s computer. It sounds like a human man, but is clearly artificial.
The arms suddenly move, rushing towards me. In a matter of seconds they remove the EKG sensors and IV, leaving me in my underwear. Oh, shit. I remember now. I’m in my underwear. No other clothes yet. I’m basically naked. I feel myself blush, even though I’m all alone except for the arms. It’s just so awkward.
I sit up, blinking away the sleep from my eyes. The room I’m in is cramped, limited in space both horizontally and vertically. The Saving Grace is a much smaller ship than the Hail Mary, and it shows. If I were to try, I’d say it’d only take me a handful of paces to reach the ladder at the opposite end of the room. If I remember correctly, that ladder leads up to the pilot deck. I should go there.
I swing my legs over the edge of the cot, and am standing in a few moments. I’m a bit wobbly on my feet, considering I haven’t used them in six years and the gravity is much stronger than I was expecting. It was technically sixteen years to get here, but thanks to relativity I only experienced six. Wait, where is here again? I should go check. No, I haven’t forgotten. Not really. It’s just that it’s hard to recall things when you just wake up. I need a refresher. And a coffee. Or two coffees. Maybe three.
I brush a strand of my brown hair from my face, and walk carefully to the ladder. I catch a glimpse of myself in a wall-mounted mirror. If you asked me, I would say I’m alright looking. That’s to say, everything’s in the right place and not worth writing home about. My emerald green eyes have been the source of many compliments from men on dates, but I’ve always been fond of the freckles that dot my face.
Wait, I should get dressed first. I’m still two steps away from being completely exposed to the universe. I turn around, searching for my cubby. There it is. It’s next to my cot. I walk over, reach down, and open it. Lying inside is a duffel bag with a sticky note attached to it reading “Abby”. I zip open the bag. Its contents are diverse, containing everything from clothes to personal articles. I pull out a card depicting the Earth and open it. Inside are messages of good luck from my coworkers, scrawled in pen of various colors and thickness:
Good luck, Abby! - Michelle
tell the rock guy I said hi - rob (scribbled with a Sharpie)
We’ll miss you! - Josh
I’ll have drinks waiting for you when you get home. My treat. - Anna
Best of luck, Abigail. - Eva
I feel tears welling up in my eyes as reality hits me hard, and I close the card. My friends… That’s right. I left them behind on Earth. I wipe my tears and pull out my clothes. I stand, slipping on grey sweatpants and a bright blue t-shirt with “Ah!” printed on it in large white text. It’s formatted like a spot on the periodic table, with numbers and everything. Underneath, in smaller text, is printed “the element of surprise”. I smile. I always love a good nerdy shirt. This one was a gift from my teacher. I roll my eyes at the corniness of the shirt and walk back to the ladder. I grab the highest ladder rung I can reach, beginning to climb.
After only a handful of seconds of arduous climbing (my muscles are still weak from the coma), I reach a hatch. Through a small viewport I can see up into the lab. The most noticeable thing is that it’s sideways. From my position, everything is on the wall. The design is similar to the Hail Mary, so it’s intended to be used in the centrifuge mode. That’s how the ship generates artificial gravity. Wait a second. There’s gravity right now, I realize. I smack my forehead, almost falling what I assume is twenty feet from the ladder in the process before righting myself. The ship’s thrust is generating the gravitational force right now. Duh.
I reach upwards, grabbing the handle and pulling it down from my perspective. It’s sorta to the right, but I digress. The hatch clicks, hisses like a snake, and opens inward, or rather upward. I push it up and in and climb up into the lab. All I find that I care about is more ladder, so I continue climbing. It’s another twenty or so feet up to the pilot’s desk, which might as well be a million miles in my condition. My muscles burn like fire as I climb up. I stop halfway up, look into the lab. There’s a microscope, a spectral analyzer; everything you would expect. It’s nothing I use yet, so I keep going. After what feels like an eternity, I reach the deck. I open the hatch and pull myself up into it, then gaze out a nearby viewport. All I can see is the dark empty void of space, speckled with white dots. It’s honestly breathtaking. I wonder if Mr. Grace felt the same way when he woke up. I climb up further and sit in the pilot’s chair.
“Pilot detected.”
Lights flicker on as the screens activate. I grab the control stick next to me and try to pull on it. Nothing. It must be locked until I get to where I’m going. I turn the chair to the right. I reach forward, put my hand on a scrolling ball and roll it to the left. As I roll it, a display in front of me scrolls, showing my path from Earth in red. The line is mostly straight except for the bit from where I left the solar system. Gravitational slingshots. I check the other direction and see my destination, 40 Eridani A. Around the star orbits the planet Erid, home of the Eridians. Home of my teacher, Dr. Ryland Grace. I wonder how he’s doing. Well, I hope.
“How long until we reach Erid?” I ask the computer.
“The Saving Grace will arrive at the 40 Eridani A system in three days,” it responds. I lean back in my chair. Three more days. Next thing I know, I’ll be there.
The next three days pass by slowly but uneventfully. Mostly just me sleeping and eating. The last time I spent all my time eating and sleeping, I was diagnosed with depression. But now I’m in space, and about to meet aliens. I’m in the middle of my breakfast on the third day when the computer makes the announcement.
“Now arriving in the 40 Eridani A system,” it says. “Pilot controls are unlocked.”
I almost drop my breakfast burrito as I run over to the ladder and start climbing, burrito in mouth. It’s when I reach the lab that a funny thing happens. My hair starts to float. It’s almost like a jellyfish. I laugh at the mental image of a jellyfish on my head, causing my burrito to fall from my mouth. It too floats, though nowhere near as gracefully. It blunders around like a drunk, bumping into the rungs of the ladder as it twists and turns. I reach out and touch it. I instantly realize what’s happened. The ship has stopped moving. We’re here.
Or rather, we’re in the star system, but not the actual planet. I only realize how far I have to go when I reach the pilot’s deck and examine the monitors. I rub my temple in exasperation with both hands as I sit in the pilot’s chair, the restraint keeping me from floating freely. It’s still a weird sensation, being in zero gravity. Imagine perpetually being on the verge of falling, like you’re at the top of a huge drop on a roller coaster, but never actually reaching the ground. It’s weird.
“Of course I’m still not there yet,” I mumble, then speak up as I talk to the computer. “How long until we reach Erid?”
“The Saving Grace will reach 40 Eridani A b in eleven days,” says the computer.
I sigh, then grab the control stick. The ship lists to the right slightly, then to the left, then it stabilizes. I don’t necessarily need to do it myself, but it feels nice to be in control and it’s fun. Like playing a video game, I assume. I never really played games. My interests as a kid were mostly related to space and horses and eventually Astrophage. I turn to my left and punch coordinates into the navigation system. Better to let the computer do the work. My training before launch was mostly about the scientific stuff; I only learned enough about flying to the point where I can land the ship mostly intact.
“The Saving Grace will reach 40 Eridani A b in eleven days,” repeats the computer. I think I’ll call it Grace.
“Thank you, Grace.”
“You’re welcome, Dr. Collins.”
I settle into the chair. It’s gonna be a while.