Chapter Text
“This… may seem like me betraying you, but it’s actually me believing in you.”
I stutter, my breath hitching as I back away toward the windows and away from the suited men who just walked in here and the other man who must be a doctor with his white coat and his medicine bag full of things I can imagine but don’t want to.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
I sat down here just for a few minutes to give Stratt my answer, and now what? My ‘no’ means nothing? For a split second I flash back to a bathroom and another day that my saying ‘no’ was disregarded, but I pull myself out of the memory in an instant; I don’t have time for it.
“Sure feels like you’re betraying me,” I manage to reply through nervous laughter, and I’m proud of myself for managing to speak a full sentence. But the two men in suits are getting closer, and my brain has finally accepted what’s happening right now, what these people intend to do. I can hear Stratt talking off to my right, but I’m too focused on not letting them get close enough to grab me to follow what she’s saying.
“Come on, guys…” I try, hating that my voice is already wavering through tears. There’s so little here to defend myself with, but my eyes land on the chair beside me. It’s not much, but it’s something. “Let’s keep talking about it.”
I grab the chair and shove it towards the suit closest to me, giving myself time to climb up on the cabinets and put a few possibly crucial inches between me and the men. Stratt is yelling something from across the room, but I’m not listening because the men are closing in. I fight back, flailing wildly to keep them from catching hold of me. If they catch me, I’m dead.
”I can’t! No!” I scream, scrambling along the cabinets and jumping, mercifully just ahead of their waiting arms. I bolt for the door and somehow make it through and into the thankfully empty corridor. I’d half expected there to be more guards out here. I take off running in the direction I know is the quickest route to the outside.
As I turn a corner, I collide with someone running the opposite way. The impact winds both of us, and I hear a clatter from below. Looking down, I see a handgun on the floor at my feet; the guy I collided with must have had it in his hand as he came around the corner. The sight of the gun makes me feel sick, years of active shooter training flooding back in an instant, but the nausea is almost immediately wiped away by adrenaline and the knowledge these people will not stop. They will force me onto that ship or kill me trying. I reach down and snatch up the weapon before its owner has the chance to realise what’s happening, and I take off running again.
I burst through a door and into the open air. Up ahead I can see the chain-link fence that marks the security perimeter of the launch facility, and I run toward it faster than I thought I was capable of. As I run, I glance down at the gun in my hand. I’ve never even held a gun before, but part of my training was being able to quickly assess whether a weapon was loaded and whether the safety was on or off. This one is indeed loaded, and the safety is off; the guard obviously thought he might need to actually use it on me. A burst of hysterical laughter bubbles up. Me! A middle school teacher and a biology researcher. What happened to my life?!
I can hear footsteps behind me, and they sound like they’re increasing in both number and proximity. The fence is so close; if I can just reach it, then I stand a chance. I race out from between the buildings and spot what I’m looking for, but the footsteps are just too close for me to make it the extra few yards I need. Instinctively I turn to face my pursuers and raise the gun, and immediately, everything changes. The people behind me freeze in place and all hold their hands up. I’m waving the gun wildly between them. I don’t think I could ever actually pull this trigger, but they don’t know that. All they see is a terrified man holding a loaded weapon and pointing it in their faces.
”Come on, Dr Grace, we can talk about this,” one of them says, and I recognise him as one of the suits who tried to grab me in Stratt’s office. I laugh a little, knowing I must look and sound hysterical. Oh, now they want to talk about this!
I’m still trying to figure out what to say or do next when I sense movement in the corner of my eye. I turn left and find myself facing another suit who had been coming in to try and tackle me in my blind spot. I don’t think; I react. There’s an incredibly loud bang, far louder than I ever imagined, and I watch as if from outside myself as the man who was in front of me crumples to the floor. I see red spreading across his chest, and I hear gasps from the others. I don’t think they believed I would do it. I didn’t think I would do it either.
While they’re all distracted for a few precious seconds, I bolt back toward the fence and the tiny gap only I know is there. The gap I put there weeks ago when I needed to get away from the madness. I scramble through it, leaving my yellow raincoat behind as it snags in the wire, and take off running again, this time headed for the tree line. Within seconds, the launch facility vanishes into the foliage of the nearby forest that borders what was, until very recently, the grounds of our research facility.
I don’t stop running for what must be more than an hour. All I can see is the look on the man’s face as the bullet hit him and the red spreading across his shirt. All I can hear is ringing in my ears from the gunshot. I just killed someone. I just killed someone! I start sobbing as I run, desperately heaving lungfuls of oxygen that don’t feel like nearly enough. I think I’m going to have a panic attack, but I can’t. Not here. They’ll find me. I have to keep moving.
Thankfully, I’ve needed to get away from it all a lot over the last few weeks, so I’ve been out here more than my responsibilities should really have allowed, and I’ve made a few discoveries. Nothing that will help me much if they bring in infrared cameras or the like, but I don’t think even Stratt was prepared for this scenario, so hopefully they don’t have those on site. That’ll buy me some time. I need a moment to think. I realise I’m crashing toward some rocky outcroppings I discovered a few days ago, and I make for them, clambering down into a hollow below a large boulder and pulling a few branches across to shield me a little. It’s a lousy hiding spot, but it will let me catch my breath.
I killed someone. I killed someone. I killed someone.
I shake my head to dislodge the thought. It was self-defence. If he’d gotten to me, I’d already be in a coma now, and the next thing I’d know, I’d be trapped in a tin can 11.2 light years away with no way home, about to die in deep space. I remind myself that’s what’s at stake here. I didn’t kill someone just because I wanted to; I killed them to stop them from killing me.
Immediately I’m back in that bathroom, the muffled sound of a gunshot cutting through the water, instantly followed by a release of the pressure that had been holding me there. I remember launching up out of the water, gasping for breath, and my eyes meeting his. The horrifying realisation of what he’d done coupled with the knowledge that if he hadn’t, I’d be dead.
I snap back to reality, and immediately I know what to do. I fumble in my pocket and pull out my phone. I know I’m going to have to ditch this, but first, I open my messages and scroll right down to the number I promised I’d never use. The one that’s only there for the direst of dire emergencies.
To: Courtland
Message: Help me