caught beneath the landslide
CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA - OASIS
note- i am depressed and in love with ryland grace. i adore stratt really. dad! ryland forever. you can't tell me he didn't volunteer for the program solely for his school kids.
synopsis- you and ryland can't decipher the familiarity between you. neither can you decode the polaroid of a little girl hidden in the back of your personal belongings.
Written on the dried whiteboard in massive letters. You knew the basics. You were here to save Earth from the star eating Astrophage on a one way trip into hell, and that both your last names were Grace. So not extensive. But it was something. Ryland was remembering things way faster than you were, and frankly it was job trying to keep up. Rocky tumbled about in his closed off xenonite space, offering theories and “great words of encouragement”.
So far, there was little to nothing written down. Apart from RELATION. You knew you had to be related somehow, hell a coma couldn’t remove the sense of familiarity that lingered with his nerdy presence. Nevertheless, the attempts in getting there were in futility.
“Stratt. Stratt, Stratt, Stratt, Lokken, Carl, Dubois, Yao…”
“Stating names isn’t going to get us anywhere, Ry.” Ry? Where had that come from?
“It might do! You don’t know how the cognitive brain works.”
“I hereby grant you full clearance for all classified knowledge pertaining to Project Hail Mary.” Stratt’s thick dutch accent echoed in your ears. Ryland sat across the heavy meeting table, blue eyes drowning in concern, played off nonchalance, and what you perceived as fear. The flickering screen set up around the front of the room displayed exaggeratedly smiling faces. DUBOIS- SCIENCE SPECIALIST. YAO- PILOT, CAPTAIN. GRACE- ENGINEER. GOD SAVE THE HAIL MARY, GOD SAVE EARTH. Your own reflective smile made you feel sick.
“Welcome to the Hail Mary.”
Your cabin was small. Cozy, as Ryland liked to put it. There was one big double bed in the corner, with a smaller bed scooched beside it and virtually nothing else. You’re almost frozen still, watching him describe the structure of stars to a little girl, no older than six, nodding along intensely as if she understood each and every word, which you could be certain she didn’t. Ryland was Stratt’s second in command. You were the engineer set to head up. A family from San Francisco ripped up and thrown onto Stratt’s Vat to be inevitably dispensed.
“Mommy!” She squealed. It was like her name was floating just out of reach. “Daddy won’t let me go!” She giggled, twisting in his grip that was supposed to stay strong forever.
“Never!” Her high pitched laughter was like music to your ears. “See that?”
“That’s Sol. The sun. What keeps the earth warm and inhabitable.” You’re still stuck watching his small whispers, her intense stare. “Daddy’s gonna keep the sun warm for you, hey? Just for Molly.” He playfully grabbed he to throw her up above him and catch her. She squealed.
The Hail Mary has never been more silent. The polaroid of the little girl hidden in the back of your possessions suddenly had a name, a voice and a parentage. Your little girl. You definitely weren’t related the way you’d initially thought.
“…Rocky interrupts humans thinking to ask, question?”
“Grace gone green. Unnatural for human biology. Rocky worry.”
You blinked upwards at Ryland, who was indeed a slightly worrying tinge. He snapped back, hurling directly into one of the tanks Rocky had begun building.
“No! Grace defiles Rocky’s work.” The Eridian pouted.
You jumped up on reflex, hands finding their places against his forearms. “Hey, it’s okay… shit.” His breathing was shaky, you couldn’t really blame him for that.
“Molly.” He stated, gasping for breath after a moment.
You nodded quietly. “Molly.” What else were you supposed to say? That it’s not shit to suddenly remember a very intimate relationship with who was just your co-worker in isolation and your shared daughter who you’re now never going to see again because for some goddamn reason you still haven’t recalled why Ryland is on a space suicide mission too? Hell, why did you think it was sensible to volunteer if you had a daughter? Oh god, you think you might be sick too. Rocky can almost sense it, on very high alert, carapace peaked upwards in tension.
You can see it. Her little face, her soft blue eyes and beaming smile, exactly like Grace’s. It makes you want to shove yourself in the airlock.
“Who is Molly, question?” Rocky taps on the glass. A lump sticks in your throat.
“A- Pebble. Our pebble. Does that make sense?” You stammered slightly.
“Grace and Grace have biological offspring like Eridian Pebble?” Rocky questions. Ryland makes a pained noise. Resisting one yourself, you exhale shakily. Your hands don’t really know what to do around Ryland’s arms, but he doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the least. “Yeah, Rock.”
“Did not realise Grace and Grace were mates." Ry lets out a mildly amused huff- neither did we. "This is amaze! Human connection study! Rocky will discover lots about human culture and behaviour! Where Molly, question? Rocky would like to greet Grace and Grace offspring.” The alien rambled excitedly. You’re not sure how a text to speech can possess vocal emotional value, but Rocky exceeds expectations.
“It was an explosion. A milligram of astrophage was mistakenly doled out. Human error. Both our Science Specialists, Dubois and Shapiro have passed.” Stratt spoke formally like always. This woman was consistently no bullshit, no emotion. You gulped nervously, eyeing Ry in the corner of your eye who looked simply devastated. Your husband has always been an empath to a fault - wait husband?- and he really had been fond of Dubois and Shapiro. Stratt’s gaze landed firmly on Grace, piercing. Almost threatening. It makes you feel uncomfortable in the already hostile meeting room, shifting in your seat.
“What?” Ryland states, awkwardly laughing. The whole board is staring at him now. Sickening anxiety curls in your stomach. You think he knows the inevitable. You can’t help but deny the truth yourself.
“You’re the leading scientist on astrophage biology in the world.” Stratt almost soft launches. The thought makes you want to laugh a little, dimmed by the tensing feeling of unknown. Unnaturally soft and subtle, her voice really throws Grace off and all you can really think about is reaching to comfort him. Your hand lands on his thigh underneath the table, gently squeezing it. He doesn’t blink, but you can tell it’s helping. You’ve never needed words to know the impact you have on him.
“I- that’s a dramatic statement…” He really never could take a compliment.
“It’s the only choice. You match the gene. We can’t train anyone else in time”.
Ryland goes sickly pale. There it is, blank and forward in pure Eva bluntness. Your brain clouds, like an alarms going off. You’re willingly going up, you know the risks, you’ve made the arrangements, Grace has made his peace with it, he’s to stay with your girl. Let her know she’s safe and loved, who the hell is going to stay with your girl? Ryland can’t handle space, he can hardly handle someone pointing out his hair’s askew! You can’t do this to him, Stratt can’t-
You can’t even hear the conversation happening right before your glassed, frozen eyes. Ry’s small, fearful voice, Stratt’s straight, leading demeanour. How can she say this, how can she be so calm, the pitch of Ryland’s voice alone is sending you into a protective force you can’t restrain. And then-
“I can’t go up! I’m not an astronaut! She’s the astronaut, she’s done the training, I- we have the plan, I can’t even moonwalk, I put the NOT in astronaut!”
“Molly.” It flew out your mouth, urgent, anxious. “What the hell is going to happen to Molly? You can’t take us both away, I did this on the condition he’d stay!” You exclaimed. Stratt’s face didn’t change. It didn’t even falter.
“What do you mean fine?!” His eyebrows furrowed in distress. “She’s not going to be fine, oh god! We don’t have family, who-“
“Dealt with? That’s my daughter, you don’t just deal with her! You can’t send us both-“
“Your daughter isn’t worth the sacrifice of humanity.”
Ryland’s chair screeches in anger as he stands. You’ve never seen such volatile emotion on him, especially directly towards other people. “Say that again.”
“The survival of the human race is my primary concern”.
“My fucking daughter is my primary concern!” You gulped. Ry never swore. The field of thought was drenched in worry and thoughts of your daughter.
“She’ll be dealt with. Personally.”
“You can’t take us from her! You can’t take me from her- please!” It’s purely begging now. Tears unwillingly slipping down your face as Grace essentially pleads with the board of stone faced officials. “That’s my Molly- She only eats peeled carrots with the special type of hummus, and she loves the stars, and she wants to be a princess unicorn dictator. And- and her favourite song is Champagne Supernova because she thinks it's funny when I censor 'high'- and you can’t take her from me, from us!” He cried.
You can’t breathe. The safety you felt of knowing your daddy’s girl was going to be safe with Ryland is gone. His sobs fade into white noise, an amalgamation of fear, constriction and purely Molly. Mols, your sweet girl. Before you can even realise what’s happening, Ryland’s dragging you up with a force you couldn’t even comprehend, yelling “RUN”. You don’t even realise the officials after you with syringes, weapons of damnation to a life without your daughter, without your family.
The last thing you see is your husband’s clawing marks in the dirt and the weeping of Molly’s name before everything goes dark.
“Rocky not understand. Grace and Grace offspring where?”
