1/2/3
My take on bloody mary
The pressure was crushing, his arm ached with a deep and painful throbbing, pulsing as the blood forced its way deeper under his skin. He gagged, face pressed against the ceiling, desperate for air.
Then it stopped. He felt light, airy, distant. It felt like an apology. It felt like freedom.
•~☆×♡×☆~•
Ryland floated casually, doing loops around one of Rocky's tunnels as they talked about what Humans and Eridians did for fun. Music and dancing was shared, video games and TV not so much.
“Personally,” he began, tugging himself around the tunnel “I liked to watch stupid little YouTube videos.”
“🎵You? Tube?🎶” Rocky said, sounding horrified.
“No, no,” he rushed to correct and comfort his friend. “YouTube was just a–”
“WARNING.” the NannyBot interrupted loudly. “catastrophic blood loss detected, immediate assistance required.”
Ryland bumped into the wall, too stunned to catch himself properly. “But I'm fine?” He mumbled, rubbing at his head. His hand came away dry and clean.
“What wrong?” Rocky asked, coming closer to the wall.
“I don't–”
“Immediate assistance required.” NannyBot said. again. speaking over him. again. “Dr. Grace. Please assist–” it blanked out, going completely silent for a moment “– in the air lock.”
Goodness, is it hallucinating another person? That's not ideal, and why the airlock? He sighed to himself, pushing his way down to the air lock–
Oh.
Oh gosh…
A hand raised to his mouth. He felt sick.
There was a dead man in the airlock. Blood coated the walls, crawling along the glass in a way that almost seemed sentient. The man's blood soaked hair floated around his neck, one arm hung limply at his side, the other was missing.
There was no way he could survive losing that much blood, yet the man twitched.
Grace rushed, slamming at the panel to open the airlock. “Rocky!” He called, hooking his arms around the man's middle. He dragged the man further into the ship.
Rocky clambered down “🎶who that, question?🎵”
“I don't know,” Ryland said, strapping the man down into the one bed not on Rocky's side of the partition. “Does he have a heart beat?”
NannyBot's arms descended, beginning with wrapping the man’s arm and inserting a feeding tube. Rocky hunkered down, listening. Ryland chewed on his nails, feeling particularly useless.
“🎵Yes.🎵” Rocky said at last. Ryland let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “🎶Very fast, though.🎵”
“Ok,” Ryland sighed, “Ok.”
●•●□●•●
Simon opened his eyes. Not something he expected to do so soon. Or ever again, really.
“Eye movement detected.” A feminine voice said oddly. He let his eyes close again, he felt clean for the first time in days. He wasn't thirsty for the first time in weeks, he wasn't hungry for probably the first time ever.
Was he in heaven? Did he change his life around at the last second enough to go to heaven? Was this voice an angel? Is that why she sounded so odd? So inhuman?
“What's two plus two?” She asked.
“Oh, shove it, NannyBot.” Another voice, this one masculine, said. Softer, he asked, “can you speak? I know those tubes can be rough.”
Tubes? Rough? Was he talking about the submarine?
“Hello?” The voice said as music began to gently play.
Oh, right. Simon should probably respond. “Hey.” He said, voice gravely and broken.
The music stopped. Simon opened his eyes again. The warm light was being partially blocked by… an angel?
Golden hair caught and scattered the light. Bright blue eyes looked down at him. Those eyes were worried, not scared or hungry, just concerned–for Simon.
“Hey,” the angel said, smiling– actually smiling at Simon. He could cry. oh, wait he was crying.
The angel startled, leaning away until he disappeared from sight. Simon tried to sit up, tried to follow– no, no please! Please don't leave me. I can't be alone, I can't! don't leave, “don't–” his throat burned, ached and screamed.
He didn't care. “Come back, please.” he sobbed, patheticly begging. It was hopeless, he knew he didn't deserve heaven.
He especially didn't deserve an angel, yet he came back. He pat at Simon's cheeks with something soft and warm, gently wiping his tears. “It's ok,” the angel said, so soft, so gentle, so very sweet. “I won't leave you.”
“Try not to move, or speak.” The angel said so kindly it was beginning to be hard to believe he was still talking to Simon. “You're on a lot of pain killers, so things probably don't make a lot of sense right now.”
Oh, yeah. Pain killers. Music gently played as he considered the ramifications of heaven having pain killers.
“No, of course I'm not on pain killers.” Huh? “That was a one time thing. Please drop it.” Maybe Simon's angel was crazy, wouldn't that be something?
•~☆×♡×☆~•
Ryland stood at (no longer) blood-covered-stranger's bed side. He should be waking up soon, and actually be cognizant this time. Ryland paced, wringing his hands.
“🎶scared of human, why, question?🎶” rocky asked from upstairs, Ryland asked him to be elsewhere when BloodBoy woke up. Aracniphobia was no joke and he probably couldn't take such a scare right now.
“I'm not.” Grace said, glancing back down at the only human he's seen in the last few months.
“🎵Leaking. Twisting. Heart go🎵” Rocky knocked on the wall, mimicking Ryland's heart racing.
Ryland was never good at talking to people, and if he made a bad first– second– wait if he remembers Ryland making him cry then he already made a bad first impression. “Eye movement detected.”
“🎵jumpy.🎵” Rocky teased. Ryland clutched at his shirt, he had maybe jumped, just a little.
“Hey.” Ryland said, horribly awkwardly.
BloodBoy blinked several times “you were real?” He asked, voice deep with sleep instead of drugs this time.
Oh. Oh gosh he remembered. Please, please let Ryland salvage this situation. “Ye-yep!” He cringed at the stutter, “how are you feeling?” He cringed more, the man had just lost an arm he is not feeling-
“Great,” he said, totally earnest. “I- uh.” He swallowed, looking away from Ryland and around the room instead. As his eyes fell on Rocky's partition he continued “I feel great.”
Ryland sighed in relief. He hadn't expected the sudden eye contact to startle him so much. “I'm glad.” He said, the man looked slightly startled at that, “sorry, my name is Doctor Ryland Grace,” he said, in the hopes the man would introduce himself.
Instead, the man blinked, slowly hulling himself up to a sitting position. “Doctor?” he asked, looking up at Ryland through his hair.
“Yeah, I have a doctorate in molecular biology.” The man, Ryland can not keep calling him BloodBoy looked less hostile and more confused. Before he could ask directly the man began mumbling.
“... you're human?” He asked quietly. Ryland nodded. “I'm alive, and you're human and–” his hand reached up to hover around his stump. “And it was real?”
Oh goodness the man looked near tears again. Ryland didn't know what to do, when the man was drugged simply being close was enough to comfort him. “I'm still here.” Ryland said suddenly.
The man tilted his head slightly to show he was listening. “I'm here, with you, we both are. We won't leave you.” He hoped it was comforting.
“Both?” The man was making eye contact again and golly! When did that get so weird?
“Oh, um.” He stalled, fidgeting again. “You aren't scared of spiders, are you?”
“Spiders?” Those dark eyes darted around in thought. “I donno.”
Ryland sighed, good enough. “Id like you to meet my friend.” He gestured to the tube. Rocky made a show of slowly peeking in. “This is Rocky.” on cue, he waved.
Dully the man waved back. “My name is Simon.”
They sat quite awkwardly for a moment, then rocky- the closest thing they had to an extrovert said “🎵have no word for human name. Give meaning?🎶”
“Oh,” Grace said, looking down at him, “God is listening? I think?” Simon flinched slightly, eyes drifting to the window.
“But you can pick a nickname!” He said, raising his hands, “Or rocky can give you a name and I'll just program it to say Simon. Whatever you want.”
Simon sighed slightly, “just pick something,” he said burying his face in his hands.
Ryland almost raised a hand to offer comfort, He never knew what to do with sad people. Most people don't like to be touched. So what should he do?
“That doesn't matter right now,” he said softly “are you hungry?”
Simon met his eyes then hesitantly nodded. Ryland looked away “Computer, food please.”
Rocky began to shift slightly, Ryland pat at the wall “you can go if you want, bud.”
“🎵No,🎵” Rocky said, “🎵I watch.🎵”
Ryland smiled, they had a conversation about different bonding activities between the two species. When he explained that humans actually eat together on purpose, Rocky was aghast. But then he offered to “engage in … human bonding ritual…” a few hours later.
Simon fell asleep a few minutes after he ate. “🎵Sleep I watch,🎵” Rocky said, going to his usual right above the bed spot “🎶grace, question.🎵”
“What's up, buddy?”
“🎶Where Grace sleep? Only one bed.🎶”
“Huh, hadn't thought it yet.”
“🎵I did.🎵”
●•●□●•●
When Simon woke up it was to Rocky's incredibly rocky underside. “OH, fuck!” He rolled to the side, tried to catch himself with his missing arm and his face met the floor. He rolled, sliding himself along the floor.
“Whoa, whoa!” grace said as Simon bumped into his legs, “what happened?”
“🎶Rocky do nothing then human get scared!🎵” Rocky said, tapping against the glass walls.
“Calm down.” Grace said. “Are you alright?” This was directed at Simon, “anything hurt?”
“No,” Simon said, sitting up propping himself up to sit properly. “’m fine.”
“You're bleeding.” Grace said. The all to fimilar scent of blood was pressent, Simon forgot it wasn't normal.
He reached up to prod at his nose, his fingers came away red. “It's fine, im fine.”
“No,” grace said, stepping closer he pulled a tissue from his pocket, “here, let me.” He knelt close.
Fingers found their way into his hair, tilting his face up. The paper was soft when grace dabbed it around Simon's mouth. The pure white paper came away stained.
Grace suddenly blinked, “sorry,” he said, standing quickly. “Lets show you around the ship, yeah?” He asked, looking away.
Simon nodded and was about to try to get up when a hand was presented to him. Not a fist nor an accusing finger. He didn't know what to do with that “Hm?”
Grace glanced down, making a grabbing motion, behind him Rocky made an exaggerated motion of grabbing his own hands. Simon put his hand into the offered one. Grace lifted him to his feet then his grip loosened.
Simon tightened his grip to compensate. If grace wanted to hold hands, Simon would hold his hand. He let their hands hang loosely between them. “so, um. What now?”
●•●□●•●
When Grace yawned for the second time in a row and the conversation died, Rocky said very happily from his tubes “🎶Grace: stupid, tired. Go sleep, I watch.🎵”
Grace stretched with a yawn. “Sure, alright.”
Simon looked up from the projection on the walls. Grace went towards what simon had been assuming was med Bay instead of towards a room, not that he had seen his room on the tour. But he had to have a room, right?
When grace didn't come back, Simon said softly. “Hey, rocky?”
“🎵Yes?🎵” Rocky said, appearing in his tube. He looked nervous, tilting back-and-forth ever so slightly.
“Why didn't Grace go to his room?” He asked, trying to keep it down.
“🎵He did.🎵”
“No, I mean, why didn't he go to his bedroom?”
“🎵He did, grace share bed with new human.🎶”
Simon shifted uncomfortably “there's only one bed?”
“🎶Yes, grace said grace share.🎶” rocky shifted again.
“And he's alright with that?”
Now rocky was tapping on the wall. “Grace ask stupid question repeatedly when tired. You tired? You sleep? I watch.”
“No, I'm not–”
“Then stop distracting. Grace sleeps, I have to watch.” and then he was gone.
Ok, that's alright. Simon thought to himself. They can just take shifts.
●•●□●•●
That lasted somehow less than one day when Simon woke to grace dozing on the floor beside him and rocky above them. He managed to hold in his shout this time. It was, however, quite a near thing.
Rocky waved, he was fiddling with some sort of something dull green and shiny. Simon waved back then asked, as quiet as his sleepy voice could be, “why is he on the floor?”
“Try sleep in science room, Rocky can't watch you both if in different rooms.” He completed three of the tiny things he was working on and linked them together in the time it took him to say that. Then he paused to look at Simon. “I make him sleep down here. He no want share bed. Rocky not know why.”
“Because on earth, it's considered rude to saddle up to someone who's asleep.” Grace said from the floor. “especially if you don't know them too well.”
Simon shrugged, “I would have been fine with it.” Rocky made an ‘I told you so’ gesture. “also, I'm not from earth. How old do I look?”
Grace looked up at him, “you're not from earth?” Simon shook his head. “Where are you from?”
Simon folded in on himself a little bit. He knew this wouldn't last very long. Yet it was still painful to have to admit “Eden.”
he braced himself for the question. For the accusations, the discovery of what happened at filament station.
Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes.
Grace looked confused, “I'm sorry, I don't know where–or what– that is. Was it an offshoot of project hail mary?”
It was Simon's turn to be confused. “Project hail Mary? Was that a response to the quiet rapture?”
They were done taking turns, and now they were both confused. “No, it was the Petrova Task force? the Earth, trying to save the stars.”
“‘Trying to save'” Simon mumbled under his breath. “So they knew what was coming?”
“Yeah, we knew about the Petrova line, and we knew about the astrophage. But that shouldn't have actually killed anyone yet.” Softer he said, “Right?”
“astrophage?” Simon asked, “what's that?”
“The star eaters.” At Simon's panicked expression he added, “wait, wait, wait, let's slow down.” He said, hands in front of him.
“I think that something odd has happened here. Let's start at the beginning.”
The conversation took the rest of the cycle. By the end of it Simon just wanted to go back to bed.
●•●□●•●
Simon woke up, it was his third ‘day’ on the Hail Mary and waking up to a rock ‘spider’ was still very odd. “Good morning, Rocky.” He said, instead of ‘holy shit get out of my room’
It wasn't his room, anyway. It was Ryland's. He just happened to be nice enough to let Simon sleep there. In his bed. The only bed.
He startled when Rocky said good morning and went up the tube. “Um, food please” The ceiling arms deployed, saying something about days and meals. Simon reached up, letting the packet fall into his hand. He ripped the plastic with his teeth.
Rocky made himself scarce whenever Simon ate, so he made sure to do so first thing every day. Even if the thought of eating three whole times a day felt excessive and rich. He was pretty sure no one got three whole meals a day anymore.
Water is recyclable, food? Not so much. After he finished his meal (that even included meat!) he made his way to what was once a ladder.
The angels–that's what he liked to call rocky and grace. He can't call them ‘the other humans’ as Rocky wasn't human. ‘The others’ wasn't right either because that implied he was just as good and important as they were. And ‘the boys’ was just weird.
Anyway, the angels had replaced the ladder (unusable with only one hand and increased gravity) with a rope (tiny chain, actually) and pulley system.
He sat on the xenonite seat and began to hull himself up. Ryland was hunched in his desk chair, beside him was a white board covered in numbers 1,500 was repeated a lot, underlined in some areas, angrily crossed out in others. A few times ‘1,400?’ Or ‘1,000..?’ popped up.
“Hey.” he greeted, Ryland jumped and then muttered something. Rocky sang something in response and Ryland rolled his eyes.
Ryland was carefully pretending the white board didn't exist. “What's up, man?” He asked, aiming (and missing) casual.
“What’s that?” Simon asked, not one to beat around the bush.
“What's what?” Ryland really was a terrible actor.
“1,500. What does that mean?” Ryland shrunk away, nervous.
Ryland shrunk, “the absolute minimum daily intake of calories before suffering malnutrition.”
In the middle was an underlined “2 mouths=2 months.” Each equation led to it. “We have two months before we starve?” He asked.
Ryland nodded. “I've been experimenting with growing something from the meal packets, but they're all so processed. It just isn't possible.”
“How long until we get where you're going?” Simon asked. If the second mouth is the problem then maybe–
“Six months,” he sighed. Simon had already killed them both. Was it too much now to pray?