Chapter Text
The projector clicks off and the lights go on in the Gansu’s main conference room, the slideshow flickering away from the wall as a few members of the crew squint and blink to adjust. Eva remains at the head of the table, unfazed. Another daily meeting that ended the same way.
She clears her throat and stands, the others following suit. She holds up a hand toward the soldier stationed at the exit before he can open the door and the room pauses.
“Before you all leave, I’d like to inform everyone that we have another guest coming onto the carrier today. There will be a guided tour through the facilities at 1400 today. As always, simply carry on with your tasks.”
Eva signals the soldier once more as everyone resumes with scattered nods and murmurs of agreement.
Over the past few weeks, they had been getting a number of visits from officials and delegates all over the world. Something Eva had to eventually acquiesce to after far too many calls from governments insisting that she open her precious carrier doors to the world.
She turns to Grace, gathering his things to her right. “Doctor Grace, I would like you to assist with the tour,” she instructs before adding, “again.”
She searches his face for any indication that he wasn’t up to the task, but finds nothing. Instead he gives her two thumbs up and a smile. Good.
Eva would never tell him, but Grace was a good judge of character. Just not in the way most would think.
In truth, he was far too trusting of others. But the way people reacted to him often gave good insight into who they were. Lesser guests would find his way of speaking to everyone as if they were middle schoolers insulting, whereas the more bearable ones would respond to his demeanor quite well. Besides, if Grace had any qualms or questions as to why he was always there to greet all of the Gansu’s guests, he never asked.
Still, the fact that she had to make these arrangements was ridiculous. Everyone knew this was a classified project, there was really no point in risking confidentiality. They gave her reasons upon reasons. Things along the lines of optics and public perception. It was all bullshit, of course. They were just scared of the authority they handed over and wanted to keep the leash taut around her neck. As if the prison cell awaiting her at the end wasn’t enough.
At the end of the day, she would agree to their terms. But never without a set of her own rules. And, as a failsafe, any and all complaints to said rules were met with the threat of never getting to step foot onto the Gansu or any Project Hail Mary-related property. With that, usually paired with Eva’s unfaltering expression, most of their hopeful visitors were quick to agree.
As the meeting hall clears out, Eva makes a beeline for her office, hoping to spend some time alone before she has to fake niceties in the face of millionaires.
Well, in today’s case, the rare billionaire.
Their guest for the afternoon was an oiler she was quite familiar with: Digger Rockwell.
In truth, she has no idea why he wants to come aboard. She assumed it was professional curiosity, Astrophage was a potential threat to oil, after all. He cashed in a favor with an American politician to get himself onto the carrier — which turned out to be a very dull call for Eva. In the end, given that she knew him on a somewhat personal level and that he was quick to agree to all her visiting terms, she wasn’t that worried.
Sure, she didn’t quite like him. He was loud and a touch insane, but nothing that could endanger her or her crew. If personal opinion were enough to justify her preferred denial, his request wouldn’t have even reached her inbox. Alas, here she was.
She pulls a soldier aside to request her daily coffee order right before entering her office. For now, her worries were focused on the never-ending emails that were being sent her way.
─ ✶ ─
Twenty minutes before two in the afternoon, she receives a call from the flight control team telling her that a helicopter was approaching the carrier.
Right. Showtime.
She sends out landing preparations via radio and makes her way to the labs to pick up her star of the show.
Eva finds Grace exactly where she’d expected. Sitting questionably on a lab chair, Twizzler by his ear, and glasses perfectly askew as he goes through some sort of chart. She knocks on the fiberglass to get his attention and he jumps like a child caught where he shouldn’t be. She nods at him and he scrambles towards the curtains that separate his lab from the rest of the ship.
“Go time?” he asks, voice garbled by what she assumes is more candy.
“Yes.”
“Do I look okay?”
Eva looks him over. He’s in washed out jeans, a wrinkled lab coat, and a shirt that says “Can I lick it?” above a categorized periodic table — quintessential Grace.
She nods. “Yes.”
“Do I remove the coat?”
“No need.”
Grace lets her lead them towards the flight deck, falling into half a step behind her. Close enough to appear shoulder to shoulder, but still not quite there. Her leading scientist’s hand flies to cover his eyes once the harsh Pacific sunlight hits them both on the landing bay.
In the vastness of the ocean and the endless blue of the sky, it’s not hard to spot the shape of a helicopter making its way toward the carrier.
She grabs the radio from her waist. “Stratt to air control. Arrival status?”
The other end crackles to life. “Helicopter identified itself as the DIG-240. Approximately 5 minutes out, Director. Confirmed to be sent by Rockwell United.”
“Noted,” she says into the receiver. She flags down one of the officers roaming the deck and gives a few additional orders.
Grace fidgets beside her, his coat blowing wildly.
“I’m starting to think the coat was a bad idea,”
She turns to him and his struggles against the wind. “You can take it off,” she offers. “If you would like.”
“No, it’s fine.” He pushes one flap down, taming it for the time being. “So, uh, who are we meeting? Another politician? Is it that guy from France?”
She tilts her head at him. “France?”
Grace’s whole expression shifts. “Yeah. Super snobby. Kept trying to get me out of the way. Don’t even get me started.”
Eva raises her brows ever-so slightly. Did he not bring this up?
He goes on. “Had a bunch of baloney about being ‘powerful allies’ and all that? Complete bullpucky.”
Lord, how does she put up with him?
She really doesn’t keep track of their previous visitors. Uninterested in people who only wanted to poke at the project like a kid would a fishbowl. So, it’s no surprise to her that she doesn't remember ‘the guy from France’ that apparently got him so worked up. She stops her gaze before it can turn into something fond, resorting to a simple shrug.
“Really? I don’t recall,” she tells him honestly. His shoulders fall — relief? “However, if he bothered you that much, Doctor Grace, there is nothing to worry about. Today’s guest is American.”
His eyes light up differently now. “Is that why I’m here? As a compatriot?”
“Not necessarily.”
Grace is about to reply when they’re interrupted by her radio buzzing to life. “Landing protocols are underway, Director.”
They step off to the side when officers begin flooding the landing area. Eva sets her eyes on the approaching vehicle again, now almost directly above the deck. Its model was clearly new with heavily tinted windows — the DIG-240, her mind supplies. Much like a billionaire to keep stock of the newest military helicopters and name it after himself.
The wind blows harsher as the helicopter lowers itself onto their makeshift helipad and Grace’s coat is now an inch from flying completely off him.
Once the propellers stop and the wind dies down, the crew gets to work on securing the vehicle onto the tarmac. Credit to their efficiency, the locks are put into place swiftly and two officers help get the cabin door open as Eva pushes the hair from her face, ready to come face to face with the oiler and accommodate his booming voice and that distinct southern drawl.
Instead, a head of raven hair pops out from the cabin.
Attached to a person she knows too well.
Eva is rarely unprepared — if ever at all. But it takes her a second to reassess, her expectations completely thrown off course. She had been expecting a familiar face, but certainly not this one.
Her head momentarily whips to Grace, expecting him to have a reaction. To more of her surprise, his expression hadn’t changed. In fact, he was now smiling at their guest, stepping into the role she had given him easily. To him, this was all going according to plan.
That shouldn’t be right. They looked exactly the same.
He starts to wave and she follows the movement, finally catching sight of the glasses sitting on his head.
Her sigh is exasperated. He can’t fucking see her.
Unlike him, a few of the soldiers’ eyes dart towards her in subtle confusion, clearly beginning to make a connection between their boss and the woman who shared her face. For all the noise aboard the carrier, it seemed awfully quiet as she tried to process what was happening. The chatter, the winds, and the waves all faded into a dull hum, leaving her with nothing but the woman practically bouncing towards her.
“Grace,” she finally says, irritation thinly veiled. He turns to her, smile still on his face. “Stay here.”
If his face falls, she doesn't stop to notice as she all but marches towards her sibling. She's already running through damage control and trying to determine how her dear sister managed to get herself onto the Gansu. She grips her sibling's forearm once she reaches her, making sure to keep her hold hidden from their onlookers.
“OW!” her sister squeaks and Eva hushes her immediately.
Her voice is low, laced with annoyance. “Why are you here?”
“Nope.” She tries to squirm her arm out of her sister’s grasp, staring her down. “Let go of me.”
“Why are you here?”
“Not telling until you let go of me.”
Jesus fucking Christ, give her strength.
She relents and softens her grip, her sister's own hand going up to soothe where she held her.
“Sorry,” she bites out, only half-meaning it. “Why are you here?”
Her sister smiles. “Visiting, of course.”
The sincerity in her voice irks Eva. “You are not my guest.”
“Your ‘guest’ was doing me a favor.”
Eva sighs, the gears clicking in her head. So she had been — what was that lovely American sentiment? Ah, yes. She had been played.
“Rockwell?”
“Digger,” she corrects, to which Eva rolls her eyes. Ridiculous name. “He lets me do anything I want,” she shrugs before gesturing wildly around her. “He has no interest in this whole thing.”
“And you do?”
Her sibling laughs loudly, as if the whole notion was inconceivable. “Goodness, no! I have an interest in you. Silly.”
The beginnings of a headache start forming at her temples. She wishes this was a joke, that perhaps she hit her head and was dreaming. But when she looks at her properly, her expression is nothing but bright and sincere. Eva concedes.
“I suppose you’ve had a long trip,” she says. It’s an olive branch. A welcome aboard.
Her sister beams and takes it gladly. “The longest.”
─ ✶ ─
To Eva’s mortification, Grace gets along with her splendidly.
They relocated to the mess hall after her landing, the tour stalled for the meantime. Grace had fetched them four cups of commissary coffee and a few pastries, more than happy to continue playing host. He's sitting across them, eager to get to know this not-quite-new face.
The sight unnerves her somehow. These were two people from very separate parts of her lives, people she never thought she would see in the same room. And yet there they were, getting along as if the sun wasn't dimming and they all had the promise of the next twenty years.
“What was your name again?” he asks over the table.
“Emma,”
“Emma Stratt?”
“Rockwell.”
Eva rolls her eyes.
“Eva and Emma,” Grace nods, taking the development in. As if his jaw wasn’t on the deck floor a few minutes ago. “Twins, right? Or maybe you just suspiciously look alike?”
The latter laughs. “I’m older,”
At the same time Eva says, “Twins.” Emma snorts, she turns to glare at her. “A few seconds is hardly ‘older’.”
She is completely ignored when her sister leans over to Grace, telling him in full stage whisper, “She is just bitter.”
Her lead scientist does his best to hide his own smile at that. Eva is not amused.
“Most people assume that she is older, but no. It is I.”
“Most people assume that we are the same person,” she counters.
Emma gasps, apparently her first time to have heard such accusations. “What? We look nothing alike! I have a mole!”
“And I have red hair,” she exhales. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her sibling actually looks appalled. Eva has no more eye rolls left in her.
“It’s the first time we’ve had family onboard,” Grace intervenes. “When Stratt mentioned a guest I was expecting some fancy government official.”
“Not government, but who says I’m not fancy?” she jokes. “But, if we are being honest, the visit was more of a trick on dear Evie here.”
“That is not my name.”
She waves her off. “Eva, Evie— it’s the same.”
Grace’s head tilts. “Trick?”
“Yes,” she giggles. “My husband had her assuming it was him coming to visit. Then,” her hands fly up, startling Grace. Eva closes her eyes and drowns herself in her third cup of the day. “Hello! I appeared.”
“I see.”
“Flawless plan, no? I’ve not heard from this woman in so long,” she shakes Eva by the shoulders, punctuating her words. “Imagine my surprise when I hear she’s off saving the world!”
She smooths out her sweater. “I was given a responsibility. You make it sound so grandiose.”
“You are though,” Grace takes a bite of his muffin, “saving the world.”
“Collective effort,” she tells him.
He shakes his head. “Mostly yours. None of us would be on this ship if not for you.”
Huh.
It’s the way he says it that catches Eva. The words leave his mouth so… surely. Like how he would explain the data on his charts. As if the notion was as true as there were atoms in the universe. She almost believes him.
She finds her sister’s next interruption slightly more welcome.
─ ✶ ─
Emma ends up getting her tour around the Gansu anyway. Though she claims to have no interest in the project, her amazement is barely concealed once they begin the look around. She and Grace walk ahead while Eva trails close behind.
Their first stop is at the engineering labs, Komorov’s domain. It takes them one step into the area before the engineer’s booming voice reaches earshot.
“Ha-ha! Emma Rockwell! It has been a while!” he greets, arms open wide. “Welcome to Little Russia!”
Eva sees her sister stop completely before her head whips to the voice’s direction. “Komorov!” she all but screams, equally enthusiastic. “You’re here!”
“Yes! Your sister needed an engineer, so why not the best?” he huffs proudly with his chest out. “That is me.”
She chuckles, nudging him. “The one and only.”
Eva recalls the day she introduced them to one another. Nearly ten years ago now. It was at her wedding rehearsal, him on her arm as a friend at Emma’s nagging that she would not attend and go sulk alone.
Said sulking was from the fact that her sister knew how much Eva absolutely despised her husband-to-be.
They quickly found themselves on the same wavelength. Somehow, even more so at Eva’s clarification that he was just a friend. She can still picture how her sister's eyes had lit up with another form of mischief and invited them both to drinks post-rehearsal dinner, making Dimitri swear to make sure she did not object during the ceremony.
As if she actually would.
She had only considered it briefly, abandoning the idea once she realized, much like how it usually was between them, Emma would not listen.
After the wedding, the two kept in touch. Their friendship finding ground independent of Eva.
She didn’t mind. Even before meeting her sister, Komorov had been a good friend and an even better ally — his fairly close ties to Roscosmos a mere addendum.
Years later, when the time came to choose her lead engineer, there was little indecision on her end.
In retrospect, she is glad her bitterness about the wedding was overshadowed by the trio they had formed. It’s one of her more cherished memories. And the very same one the two eventually relay to Grace somewhere along the tour. She decides not to fight it.
Not because it was too late to stop them, but because she found that she didn’t mind if Grace knew these things.
It was not often that she told others, much less him, about herself. Even less so when she took on the mantle of director, finding her time better spent on her job rather than small talk and personal anecdotes.
If Grace was going to learn more about her from other people, there were none better suited to tell him than the ones speaking to him now.
Though she still makes an effort to catch up to them before the two can mention something she isn’t ready to let him know. Once she joins them, she sees her scientist’s raised brow when she makes no effort to reprimand them for making her the topic of their gossip.
After a good hour or so, they let Dimitri get back to his work, Emma leaving him with a hug and the promise that they go out for more drinks once the project was over. Even if she had to apparently drag Eva with them herself. She lets her be, now not being the time to tell her she probably won't have much time to visit her once the Hail Mary leaves the atmosphere.
─ ✶ ─
From Komorov's, Grace is able to show Emma around both Lokken and Lamai’s facilities before Stratt is eventually swept away by one of her many duties. Something about a call with a Russian dignitary bent on talking her ear off about potential applications of Astrophage in heating technologies.
He is pleased to find that the past two hours have served as enough evidence for her to leave Emma in his company, given that they not go near any of the labs unsupervised. Grace argues that he was a perfectly responsible scientist, she tells him that his shoes are untied — it’s an easy surrender.
Barred from his usual domain, they end up on the carrier deck. Accompanied by the harsh but welcome winds of the high seas.
“I’m surprised you aren’t more concerned with all this,” Grace says after a bout of comfortable silence.
“What? The science? Me?”
The way she says it, just short of a gasp, makes him laugh. In the short time he’s known her, Grace has decided that Emma Rockwell was the most animated person he has ever met.
The comparison with Stratt makes itself known in his head before he can stop it. He wanted to believe himself above comparing siblings. Twins, no less.
But the two were just miles apart. Stratt seemed engineered for efficiency. Her every movement was deliberate and every answer was trimmed to only what was necessary. Emma, meanwhile, felt like motion itself. She talked with her hands, her shoulders, the tilt of her head. Conversations with her wandered happily wherever they pleased (and Grace would know a thing or two about rambling). It was honestly impossible to predict what she'd say next, which somehow made listening even more enjoyable.
Still, he wants to try to know both of them.
Unfortunately, as of now, there was still an invisible field around Stratt that not only drew him in, but also kept him at a distance. But with Emma around, he thinks he finally has a chance to figure out the woman he had followed out to the middle of the sea.
“Not at all concerned with the sun dying?” he finally replies.
“It won’t,” Emma shakes her head. “Not on her watch.”
“You mean Stratt?”
She looks at him pointedly, as if about to let him in on some big secret.
“Eva.”
“So, Stratt.”
Her nose scrunches, she shakes her head again. “Not the same.”
There's a shift in the air and Grace waits for her to say more, slightly worried that he’s said something wrong. But as Emma looks outward to the expanse of blue, her eyes soften.
She waves an arm around. “Stratt this, Director that. Miss, Ma’am, Madame— it’s funny. Exactly who are you walking eggshells around, hm?”
Okay. Not fair. He turns to reply, to defend these supposed eggshell-walkers, but she’s quick to cut him off.
“It is Eva who wants to save this world. Stratt is simply who she needs to get it done.” She sighs, a sound he hasn’t heard from her in the time she’s been here.
“I had not heard from her in a while, like I said. But, Eva was always… reserved. Even at that stuffy job with the ESA, even as children. Still, there was a brightness about her. You should have seen her as a thirteen year old. Bouncing around, exploring the forests of our homeland,” she recalls wistfully. “Even at university. Ha! She had picked her major on a whim. History, can you believe it?”
Grace looks at her. Enamored by how she describes Stratt — Eva. To him, this was a person he never knew existed. History major. Who knew?
Emma goes on. “Even then, in all her uncertainty, she took to it like a moth to a flame. Except this was a moth who had lit the fire herself and was drawn to it ever since,” she jokes. “She was so passionate, truly. I had never grasped it. Her love for the world. It was so big, so strong. Even the harshest cynic would be convinced to love it all the same.”
She falls silent until a wave crashes on the hull, drawing her from her reverie into the present.
“It’s different here. On this ship. It’s nice, don’t misunderstand. You’re all doing great things here, I’m sure. But, the project…” she sighs. “She is different.”
She's still looking away. Eyes searching the water for something he can't name, or doesn't know how to. He’s at a loss for words. His assumption had always been that the Director he knew was who she was her entire life. Grace realizes he only ever knew Stratt; he did not know Eva. A soft “wow” escapes him, and Emma chuckles softly.
Her voice is quieter. “Have you ever heard her laugh, Grace?”
He thinks he would want nothing more.
“No.”
Emma smiles sadly. “She used to snort.”
Grace blinks. “...Snort?”
“It was awful.” She laughs to herself. “Oh, one terrible joke and away she went.”
Grace can’t picture it. Can’t imagine such an undignified sound coming from her, assuming it would be something she’d turn her nose up at. With his constant puns and arsenal of funny shirts, he surely would have heard it by now. Emma picks up on his disbelief and her smile falters.
“She trained herself out of it,” she says quickly, hand waving away the thought. “I can’t remember the last time.”
“Huh,”
“Indeed.”
The silence that follows doesn’t stretch as long. Grace tries to process everything as quick as his mind would allow. He had wanted to know more, but this… was completely different. He went and skipped the favorite color, favorite food, favorite candy, and gone straight to the heart of what it meant to know Eva Stratt. And found that maybe he knew nothing at all.
Back to the drawing board, back to square one.
“Well, I’m not scared of her. If that’s what you’re saying.”
A smile dances on her lips again. “It isn’t. But good to know.”
Emma pushes herself off the railing, reverting to her bubbly self with ease. “Shall we go? I’m sure there’s a lab we won’t blow up somewhere on this ship.”
Grace guesses she wasn’t keen on continuing the discussion of her sister. Or rather, how different she had apparently become. Just like that, the Pandora’s box of Eva closes as quickly as it had opened. Nothing left but the hope that he might someday find out more from Stratt herself.
He shakes off the overflow of his thoughts, stuffing them away for later. There was plenty of time to think about it. Probably.
Right now, he has a guest.
He offers her a smile. “Do you want to meet a Beetle?”