Memento Vivere || 25 || Let There be Light
Ryland Grace/Original Female Character
General Content Warnings: swearing, nudity, mature themes, graphic description.
Read it on AO3
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~25~
Grace was able to pull one electrical cord for the lights before Hope descended on him like a demon.
“Ryland Grace, if you break one more thing on my ship, I will eject you out the airlock!” To get her point across, she had grabbed his ear and pulled. He may have squealed at the sudden burn. He would deny it forever.
“We need to see better in the tunnel!”
“Then ask me! Don’t just start ripping out wires and lights!”
He kept the table between the two of them once his ear was free, hiding in the lab. Hope on a warpath was the exact last person you would want coming after you. He’d seen her angry.
Grace lingered out of reach as she flitted around the lab, collecting equipment. There were several storage drawers with extra engineering equipment—among them were rechargeable LED work lights with magnetic backs. They could be clipped to the EVA suits or mounted to the holds on the Hail Mary’s hull. They wouldn’t be able to magnetize, but the risk of them detaching and floating away wasn’t worth it anyway.
The NASA logo on each of them confirmed that they were specially designed for work in a vacuum, so they wouldn’t break in the rigors of space. Temperatures could swing from extreme heat to extreme cold, so a regular old light would not survive the job.
“You can’t do hull repairs in the dark. We packed plenty of ways to see.”
Additionally, she hauled out a long bundle of extra wiring and a tool pouch.
Whereas Grace had just grabbed one of the mounted lights and pulled, sending sparks flying as he scrambled to get his hands on any light available, Hope actually detached them properly. It only took her a few minutes before there were several lights that they deemed unnecessary throughout the ship.
The lab remained untouched, since it was going to be the central hub throughout the mission. But so many lights through the corridors or in the dorm weren’t required.
Irritated, Hope lifted up the light he’d torn off.
Unlike the others, this one had several wires sticking out the back of it. Sloppy and damaged.
“I know you’re no slouch when it comes to basic wiring. You’re going to be the one to fix this.” She tossed the light at him. The zero g meant to floated directly into his hands. Grace gaped at her. “Don’t look at me like that, didn’t you hold your students responsible when they broke things?”
“But…you’re an engineer! You could fix this in two minutes!”
“I’m not the one who broke it,” she reminded. Green eyes narrowed at him.
Finally, he looked a bit bashful. “I’m sorry…I was a bit excited.”
Though, he would much rather be watching the feeds as their new alien friends retracted the tunnel and started doing additional work on it. Hope noticed that they’d left behind the handles they’d installed on the Hail Mary’s airlock, so they were going to come back.
“I’ll even make your life easier and turn on the centrifuge,” she placated a moment later, using one of his ropes to send herself toward the corridor leading to the control room.
The little rock alien had told her to turn on the centrifuge, and she could only imagine they had one reason. They were intelligent, so they likely understood why the centrifuge existed. They knew it made gravity. And if they were intending to reattach the tunnel, it was very likely they were going to orient themselves with the Hail Mary so both ships would spin in unison, giving the tunnel gravity as well.
Their ship was smaller, and likely easier to manoeuvre in those small increments. So, Hope would adjust the positioning of the Hail Mary so when she turned on the centrifuge, the ship would still be in a position that allowed the Blip A to attach their tunnel.
Now, she just dearly hoped they had a damn good pilot because that meant they’d be reattaching the ships while they were actively in motion.
Doing some quick calculations in her head, she manoeuvred them around appropriately before she engaged the centrifuge. She had to turn off the alert from the computer regarding the proximity to the other ship; it did not want the centrifuge engaged while so close. The triple tone warned Grace that it was coming on before the soft shudder travelled through the ship as they disconnected from the engines.
By the time the centrifuge was fully engaged, the Blip A had mimicked their movement and was spinning around in a similar rotation.
Initially, they were off by several meters. Since the Hail Mary could no longer use thrust to alter the placement of the ship, the Blip A took over and carefully lined themselves up until they mirrored each other perfectly.
Grace joined Hope in the control room shortly after gravity came back. Together, they watched through the window and the monitors as the tunnel extended a second time. Their accuracy was spot on, again, and soon the familiar clunk and groan of the ship’s anchoring together sounded along the hull.
Hope waited with bated breath.
She already disliked the unknowns of being attached to the other ship by their hull, but now while they were in active movement?
Thankfully, everything settled and no further sounds came through from the airlock or the rest of the ship to suggest something was tearing or broken.
Grace bumped her shoulder. He was already vibrating with excitement.
“Round 2!”
They were getting faster at their EVA suits—the gravity helped exponentially—and short minutes later they were standing in their airlock with the new light setup that Hope had rigged together. It was now hardwired into the panel of the EVA room. Several of the ship’s lights would be placed near their airlock, providing light but not needing to drag them all the way to the dividing wall. That was where the portable work lights came in hand.
She clipped one to Grace’s shoulder and handed him a second that he could use as he pleased, then did the same for herself.
Before she moved to depressurize the room, Grace picked up one of the wrenches that was mounted to the wall. Of course, he chose the largest of the set. Holding it like a baseball bat, he seemed to test the weight of it in his hands as Hope watched on.
When he finally looked at her, she was scowling at him through her helmet.
“What?”
“A wrench? Really?”
He blushed. “It’s just a precaution!”
“Please, don’t start an interstellar incident with an intelligent alien race.”
“There is nothing wrong with being prepared. I probably won’t even need it.”
She motioned back to the rig that he had taken it from, the other equipment left in their assigned slots. “Then don’t bring it. It’ll only slow you down if you need to run.”
“Why would I need to run?”
“Why would you need to hit something with a wrench?”
He pulled the wrench in closer to himself. Clearly, it offered him some peace of mind. So, she’d let it go. But she still sighed and shook her head as she turned back to the control panel.
She wouldn’t voice it, but the man looked like an electrician about to go on the strangest job of his life. Thick bundles of wire were looped over one shoulder with lights dangling freely, all lit up and casting the EVA room in bright LED light. This was on top of with the portable work lights she’d attached to him, the two regular flashlights he’d found in the lab and stashed in the pocket on his thigh, his headlamp, and now a wrench.
With her back to him, she didn’t bother fighting the smile from how amusing he looked.
“Set?”
“Set.”
The room depressurized around them, preparing them for the same environment they’d encountered on each excursion so far, and the panel lit up green.
Hope popped the seal on the door and was slammed backward.
The outer airlock door flew open from the abrupt pressure change, flinging wide and directly into the Engineer. She was thrown back, directly into Grace, lights and all, and the two went down hard against the inner door. The collision knocked the air out of both of them—they were left lying there, stunned, as their lungs fought to function again.
One of the lights was digging painfully into the back of Hope’s hip, forcing her to arch and roll. This shoved her helmet back against Grace’s, who hitched and gasped as air tried to return to his lungs. He watched as Hope rolled onto her knees beside him, quickly assessing the front of her suit to make sure the door hadn’t caused any damage to the front panelling.
She wobbled, disoriented.
“Owwww,” he groaned, slipping further down the door now that she wasn’t pinning him. He was still draped with lights, but the two flashlights had gotten flung out of his pocket in the turmoil and somehow he was now sitting on the wrench.
Hope may be small, but the velocity of the door swinging open and throwing her backward made it feel slightly like he’d been hit by a car.
“What happened?”
Hope looked down at the reader strapped to her arm. It allowed them to monitor their suit integrity, oxygen levels, pressure levels, and temperature. Currently, the readings around them were sitting at 22°C with an exterior pressure of 21.1 kPa.
Momentarily baffled, she looked between the readings on the screen and the now open airlock. “They pressurized the tunnel,” she breathed out.
“What?” Quickly, Grace looked at his own suit’s readings.
She was right. The current pressure that had rushed in from the tunnel was an exact pressure to what was usually aboard the Hail Mary. Not quite Earth’s pressure, but one they could safely survive in.
“That’s why the door blew open,” she grumbled, rocking herself slightly to the side and stretching. She could feel something pop near her sternum, likely some rib cartilage righting itself after she took a solid double-hulled aluminum door, with nearly 3 tons of pneumatic force behind it, straight to the chest. “They pressurized the tunnel to match ours.”
Leaning back on her hands, she tried to take a proper, deep breath. Her diaphragm spasmed, causing her inhale to stutter.
“That hurt.”
Grace nodded along. “Definitely going to leave a mark.”
Slowly, the two pulled themselves back up. Hope recollected the lights had had been lost when they slammed back into the inner door. Thankfully, none appeared to have broken. Grace reclaimed the wrench again and Hope refrained from making a comment. He had broken her momentum with his body, she’d let him have the wrench.
Hopping down into the tunnel, only a short few feet of distance, felt strange. She’d become accustomed to the smooth surface of the ship, designed to have flat inner panels to walk on when gravity was engaged. The tunnel was bumpy and uneven, disrupting her footing.
Less gracefully, her companion followed with his bundle of wires and flashlights until he basically slid out of the airlock. He reminded her of a toddler learning how to climb off the couch safely.
“Leave a bunch here, just point them in,” she directly, slipping some of them from his shoulder to help.
He was still carrying one of the loops, which would be able to make it several more yards in before he ran out of slack. At the last minute, he’d also remembered to grab one of the cameras throughout the ship, technically used for the video logs. It, too, was connected to the remaining bundle of wires.
Hope looked further in, toward the wall, once several of the lamps had been placed. “Grace, look.”
Turning his entire body to face into the tunnel, the light had provided enough view that they could see the barrier wall they had encountered last time. Except it was now made up entirely of the clear, glass-like material. One giant window through to the other side.
Grace gasped. “Well, that’s new.”
The uneven surface of the xenonite tunnel slowed them down a bit, but it was still faster than trying to move around in zero g. Grace placed the camera where they’d be able to see the wall before he approached it, while Hope took the time to place one of the work lights that she’d had hooked to her suit.
It wasn’t as smooth as glass. There were ripples and grooves throughout the surfaces. It was still done in panels, as well, so it had a flow to it that looked more like clear glacier ice.
Grace found one of the nooks that was created naturally in the wall and placed his light there, aimed down so they’d be able to see whatever came forward. He kept the wrench in hand.
The way the light caught the xenonite threw rainbows across the surface. It was strangely beautiful.
Hope crouched to inspect the lines and connections of each of the panels. There weren’t any lines that looked like weld points. More like each of the pieces had been glued together. Likely, they’d used the same adhesive that kept the handles they placed on the Hail Mary’s hull.
When he wasn’t able to spot anything on the other side, Grace knocked on the surface.
“Anybody home?” he called, looking around. Hope stayed crouched a few feet away, running one hand over the panel. It was hot, even through the resistant gloves of the suit. Was that because of the process of them making it, or was their atmosphere detectable even through the xenonite? “I like what you’ve done with the gravity,” Grace continued, pointing back at their side of the tunnel.
Then, same as before, he gave their elusive neighbours a thumbs up.
To Hope’s shock, he lifted up a bundle of ramen. Where had he been keeping that? She was so focused on how he looked like a lightbulb factory thew up on him, she hadn’t even noticed anything else he was carrying.
“I made you a ship,” he declared, holding up some taped together ramen that looked like a very loose representation of the Blip A. No acknowledgement came from the other side. “It’s ramen.”
He looked around, unable to see where he could put the little Ramen A. Hope, already perplexed with the entire situation, decided to just go with it. She had learned pretty early on that Ryland Grace was someone you needed to just go with the flow; his brain was a twisted mess of thoughts even before the amnesia, and trying to keep up with him was pointless.
Aside from their obvious size and height difference, the belt around Hope’s hips was the easiest way to tell the two apart from afar. Several things were clipped onto it, one of which was a roll of duct tape hanging near her hip, that could always come in handy during an emergency. She freed it from its clip and held it out to the scientist. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I had to give them something,” he whispered back, like their new friends would hear them through their helmets and comms.
“Ramen?”
Grace shushed her, taking the tape and waving her off. She huffed out a laugh, watching him carefully tear off a strip of tape and use it to secure the Ramen A to the wall. “I only made one,” he kept going, ignoring the engineer in favour of securing his gift. “I’m not sure how many of you there are.”
Thankfully, the camera Grace had brought was recording the entire exchange.
If they succeeded, Earth would get to enjoy watching the absolute lunacy they had decided to ship off to space to save them.
~
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