Work Text:
Stratt looked at her astronauts consideringly; they would do. She paid particular attention to DuBois as she, once again, lamented the prevalence of gun violence in the United States. Now, don’t get her wrong, there was nothing wrong with DuBois- he was an excellent chemist. Shapiro, for her part, was also excellent in her field- world-renown even before volunteering as the secondary scientist. But neither one of them were so well-rounded across various disciplines the way Ryland Grace was. Since boarding the ship, even with his limited freetime, he’d managed to publish a number of different papers across various aspects of not only astrophage biology, but also their properties and uses and potential uses in fields as varied as physics, organic chemistry, and even botany. (Dr. Lamai, who was always trying to get the man to rest more, was near to the point of ripping her hair out in frustration. But even she had to admit that he had some great ideas for astrophage’s potential viability for use in medical technology).
He’d also managed to corral the various different teams across the vat into joining him in writing and publishing these papers, since, as he often said, ‘science is a collaborative effort!’. He even had the phrase on a stupid t-shirt.
And the other scientists were happy to spend their very limited leisure time working on those papers with him. Would wonders never cease?
So yes, in Stratt’s opinion, Dr. Martin DuBois was great, but he was no Ryland Grace, who, as of last week’s blood test results, she knew for certain was also coma resistant. If only he hadn’t been shot; sending him up there would make her feel like this project was less of a long-shot and more of an entirely feasible chance to save the world.
Dr. Grace was currently in his lab, looking through his microscope with a twizzler hanging from between his lips. While the cast had been removed a few weeks ago, he was still required to wear the sling for a significant portion of the day, something that he complained about endlessly and that Carl and his assistants were responsible for ensuring he didn’t skip out on. He had started some simple physical therapy exercises, but it would be a long time before he regained full functionality of his right arm, and the pins and screws that had been put in would likely remain for the rest of his life, simply because it would be too much of a high-risk, low-reward endeavor to remove them. Their outline was visible under his skin, as was the scarring from the surgery. If he wasn’t wearing his sling, he always wore either a lab coat or a cardigan over his silly t-shirts to hide it as best he could. He’d also started wearing t-shirts a size too large to hide the outline of his pacemaker, as well. Stratt couldn’t fathom why- once Lokken found out about the story of his heroism, the whole vat had known within the week.
Scars or no scars, many of the staff on the vat could often be heard whispering, in various languages, it’s such a shame to see him hide such a figure. Stratt ignored this; her first officer being a ‘thirst trap’ (as Dr. Grace’s middle schoolers might say) was none of her concern unless it hindered productivity, and so far, it had been a net positive; members across various teams were eager to please him in hopes of getting his attention, so progress was proceeding ahead of initial estimates.
“Team,” this is Doctor Ryland Grace,” she told her astronauts. “He’s the world’s leading expert in astrophage. Dr. Grace, these are the astronauts and their backups for redundancy.” She introduced the six of them by name.
Dr. DuBois was staring at Grace, although he didn’t seem to notice. Dr. DuBois, Stratt knew, was from Texas. While the story of the shooting at Grover Cleveland Middle School had made national news, there was simply so much news, and so many mass shootings, that even for Americans, not everyone would know about it. But Texas was close enough to California that it would have been on their local news as well. Dr. DuBois, who seemed like the type to keep himself apprised of current events, clearly recognized the man for more than just his work.
Dr. Grace was explaining spin drives, and Yao interrupted to ask ‘why he was speaking to them like children?’ Stratt, strangely, found herself wanting to glare at the pilot and commander and forced down the sentiment, responding blandly. Even Dr. DuBois looked taken aback, staring at the man.
A shadow of hurt crossed Dr. Grace’s eyes. He might not have understood all of it, but he’d clearly picked out a few words, and, along with the context, knew he was being insulted.
“Chandra Bose forbid I try to lighten the mood around here,” he replied a bit testily, then nearly immediately seemed embarrassed that he’d let a bit of his famous temper leak through.
“Sorry,” he backtracked. “That was rude of me. I promise I don’t think you’re unintelligent. I’m just… used to teaching middle schoolers, and I’m also in charge of writing a lot of the media information briefs that go out on the social media pages for the taskforce. I’m used to breaking things down into simple terms and making it feel less scary. But you obviously know what we’re dealing with.”
Yao had the decency to look a little guilty. It had been an unkind thing to say.
“No, you are correct. I was raised better. It’s just been a trying day.” He’d just said goodbye to his wife and only daughter. He’d see them again before launch, but his days of spending all his non-work time with his family were officially done forever. He didn’t regret it, but he felt the ache, acute and all-encompassing. Then he’d been shuffled from jet to jet to helicopter. It wasn’t an excuse to take it out on the person diligently studying and teaching about the thing that was killing them, but it was a reason, at least, to give himself a bit of grace.
Dr. Grace clearly agreed with him, and waved off his apology. “No, don’t even worry about it. I mean, you’re about to die for Earth. I should have just let it go. Seriously, thank you so much for what you guys are doing for us. I could never do something like that; I don’t have the bravery gene that you all have.”
Dr. DuBois finally spoke up, his usually-impassive face alight with surprise and disbelief. “You launched yourself at a school shooter to protect a classroom full of kids. You nearly died. You are just as brave as the six of us, clearly.”
Dr. Grace looked deeply uncomfortable, and his surprise at the chemist’s awareness of his actions was evident.
“That’s different- it was instinct, really. And my duty as a teacher. It’s… I mean, you guys are choosing, months- and maybe years in advance, depending on how long it takes us to get the ship and the fuel ready- to die for Earth, and for people who aren’t born yet, knowing that you’re losing time with people you love in the meantime, and that they’ll have to wait and struggle while you’re up there. That’s… I don’t have that sort of bravery gene that you guys do. I couldn’t do that for people I don’t even know. I really admire you.” He shrugged both shoulders, then tried to hide a wince as the movement pulled at his still-tender elbow.
Oh, Yao thought, he’s a genius, but he’s also like a sad young cow. And the first thing I did was insult him in Mandarin that he apparently understands a bit of. He needed to do damage control immediately.
“It’s about finding someone to be brave for. You clearly are brave for your students. And it seems that your talents are best served on Earth. You’re making sacrifices too, just by being here. I think we will all make a great team.”
The smile the man gave him made him feel like he was on the right track.
_______
Oh dear, Stratt thought to herself, watching Grace interact with the crew. Ilyukhina and Ryland are getting along like a house on fire. This could be a problem.
There was plenty of anecdotal evidence to support the stereotype that scientists and engineers didn’t always get along well. But Grace got along with nearly everyone. In fact, Dr. Grace not getting along with someone was a good indicator that she should get that someone off her boat. Really, Grace’s friendship with Dr. Komorov should have been a good indicator that he and Russian engineers paired like vodka and soda. But it was worrying. Dr. Lamai and Miss Levinson were already ride-or-die for the man, and she herself had an unfortunate… greater-than-neutral connection to the man that could prove compromising in a project with no room for sentiment. And that’s not even to mention Dr. Lokken.
Competent women forming a protective bubble around Dr. Ryland Grace could be either a good or bad thing. She hoped it wouldn’t prove to be a bad thing, but adding another competent (and also more than slightly crazy) woman to the “Dr. Grace Protection Squad” was definitely an unknown variable. Especially in a project that, even in the best-case scenario, was going to involve compromising his long-term health at least a little, simply by virtue of how much stress and the long hours over long months and probably even long years that it would require.
She hated this. She hated it so much. She had long since accepted that taking on this project would destroy her in a myriad of ways- would destroy her eternal soul and doom her forever, if her increasingly-shaky belief in a higher power was correct- and she was unselfish enough to accept that fact as Absolute Reality, inescapable as the powers-that-be who would come to shatter the glass cliff she stood on as soon as they decided that she was more useful as a scapegoat than an asset to make the decisions they never could or would.
But she was not unselfish enough not to yearn- for friendship, for people who Understood her like she knew Ryland Grace was coming to, and for absolution of the sins she was and would be forced to commit. She was not unselfish enough not to wish for a world where she wouldn’t be forced to destroy the very same people that she knew in another, kinder, non-existent universe, would have been the people she loved the most, and who were closest to her heart.
Eva Stratt was not a machine. Machines did not lament their lack of Mercy.
______
Ryland was clearly having the best day. He got to meet Dr. Annie Shapiro. The DNA Queen Dr. Annie Shapiro. Marissa was not super psyched to have returned to his lab after a bathroom break to find him not there, but she caught up with him quickly enough, surrounded by a group of newly-arrived astronauts. By the way his eyes were sparkling as he looked at Dr. Shapiro, you would have thought he was meeting like, Ryan Gosling or something.
“Three enzymes!” he was exclaiming, waving his good hand around. “Three! And do you know how often I use The Shapiro Method in my lab? It’s incredible! There’s a picture of you in my classroom right next to the one of Rosalind Franklin! Oh Copernicus, I wish I had it with me so you could sign it. Hey, would you be down for a zoom meeting with my eighth graders? They’d be psyched to meet you!”
Dr. Shapiro giggled. “You’re teaching your eighth graders about my work? Isn’t that a bit… advanced for them?” Marissa repressed the urge to groan- the woman looked halfway in love with Ry already.
“Well, I have to simplify it pretty heavily, but we at least go over the broad overview of your work when we do our ‘women in science’ unit! Oh man, the other science teachers are going to be so jealous I met you when I get back to school.”
“Dr. Grace, you’ll be teaching Drs. DuBois and Shapiro everything they’ll need to know about astrophage for the mission,” Stratt interrupted with an expression that suggested Dr. Grace had been gushing at Annie Shapiro since well before Marissa had caught up with them.
Ryland whipped around to face her so quickly that he threw himself off balance. Yao and Dr. Shapiro both surged forward to catch him before he hit the deck, and his face was bright red.
“What could I possibly teach the Doctor Annie Shapiro?” he yelped. “Gallileo Galilei, did you not hear any of what I just said?”
“Well, you are the world’s leading expert in it, and I only know what’s in the published research, most of which you wrote,” Dr. Shapiro pointed out, entirely reasonably in Marissa’s opinion. Ryland did not look convinced, still red to the tips of his ears.
“We are going to wrap you in bubble wrap,” he said instead, turning to Martin. “Because there’s no way we’re shooting the Dr. Annie Shapiro into space. Heck, I’d go to space before I let that happen,” he joked.
“You are medically forbidden from going into space,” Marissa hissed, not finding it at all funny.
“I will endeavor to remain mission-fit and ready,” Martin promised serenely. “I happen to share your opinions on the matter. It would be a shame for Earth to lose such a brilliant mind.”
“Oh, I think you’re quite brilliant too, Martin; don’t be modest,” Dr. Shapiro replied, blushing slightly.
“Agreed,” Ryland seconded. “I quite enjoyed your last three papers, Dr. DuBois.”
“They are well outside of the scope of your discipline,” Martin responded, looking slightly confused.
“Eh, I like to be well-rounded,” Dr. Grace answered, shrugging his good shoulder. “I mean, I’m nowhere near as smart as either of you- especially the Doctor Annie Shapiro, holy shirt- but I do my best.”
“You are without doubt biggest nerd I know, and I was in Dr. Who fan club back in Moscow,” Ilyukhina interrupted, looking bored. “Go back to part where you melted metric tonne of metal- much more interesting.”
“Oh yeah Mari, you missed the demonstration,” Ryland declared, turning towards her. “It was so cool!”
“You’ve done that experiment at least 3 times in the past month alone,” Marissa replied, looking bored.
“Explosions are never not boring,” Ilyukhina contested, and Ryland just pointed towards her and nodded his agreement.
“Oh fuck, another Russian Engineer, really Stratt?” Marissa didn’t dignify Olesya with a response, instead turning to glare at the director.
“Nice to meet you too!” Ilyukhina declared, cheerfully stepping forward and hugging Marissa round the middle. “So excited to die for you and the rest of Earth! Let me know if you want to have sex before I leave!”
Marissa made a pensive face, not entirely against the idea. Ryland hid his face.
“Save the propositioning for your off hours, Engineer Ilyukhina,” Stratt scolded mildly.
“So,” Ryland turned to Yao, desperate to escape any talk of fornication. “Chinese beer- pretty great, right?”
Yao nodded. “Much better than the American swill,” he agreed. Ryland nodded along, deciding not to mention that he was no longer allowed to drink any of it with the pacemaker. He would happily go swimming in vodka right now if it meant no more sex talk.
“I’m sure Stratt has opinions about the German stuff being better than all of it,” he continued.
Stratt saw no point in interrupting to say that she was more of a liquor woman, other than the occasional glass of wine. She was too busy intimidating the prime minister of Sri Lanka via email.
______
Marissa thought that it was awfully strange of Stratt to clear Ryland’s schedule for the night. She knew that there were several meetings she’d rather have the man in with her, but he was off the hook, here with her and the astronauts in the officer’s lounge. She’d given the excuse of ‘You will be working closely with all the astronauts, especially Drs. DuBois and Shapiro. It would be beneficial to facilitate team cooperation and dynamics by allowing you to get to know each other,’ and while Ryland clearly bought it, something felt off to Marissa. When she shared her concerns with Carl, he shrugged and told her she was just being paranoid and territorial. He seemed sincere, too. She tried to relax. If the covert intelligence operator thought there was nothing to worry about, then maybe there really wasn’t. And she could acknowledge that she tended to view all of Stratt’s actions through a negative and suspicious lens.
“And I don’t know how the heck those kids talked the sub into letting them do an experiment on a non-lab day- it wasn’t in my sub plans, I’ll tell you that much- but when I came back and saw the flippin’ melted crayon blasted across my walls, I was like ‘I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m never getting the flu again,’” Ryland was telling an engrossed-looking Annie and Martin, who were hanging off his every word. “Niels Bohr, I’m terrified to see what my classroom looks like when I get back to it after this!”
“I would have loved science teacher like you when I was in school,” the secondary pilot replied, her Ukrainian accent getting progressively stronger as the night wore on. “We never made DNA marshmallows or grew crystals in jars. No potato-powered clock either.”
“Awww darn, that’s so sad,” Dr. Grace replied. “Potato clocks are the best! The kids always come up with the best names for ‘em, too! Let me tell you, Olivia just about made me die laughing when she came up with ‘it’s fry-o-clock somewhere!’” The others laughed, but Marissa rolled her eyes.
“Do you know how many Thursday night dinners he mentioned ‘fry-o-clock somewhere?’ I think I hate potatoes almost as much as Mark fucking Watney now,” she groaned.
“Kevin actually named his potato clock Watney,” Ryland piped up cheerfully. “It started a great discussion about lab safety and where not to burn hydrazine. Not that we’d use any in middle school science anyway, but I don’t want the kids getting any ideas about how to spend their free time.”
“Your kids do experiments in their free time? Wow, they must really love science,” Ilyukhina replied.
“Well, some of them do. Once you help them find what interests them, you’d be surprised at what they can accomplish on their own,” Ryland answered. “I should check my school email soon- I bet they’re sending me lots of pictures! Abby’s gotten really into making microcosms lately- she could fill a whole pinterest board with her little soda-bottle gardens!”
“You really didn’t fall into teaching out of desperation, did you?” Lokken asked bluntly, sipping her beer. She’d been otherwise quite silent all night, and Marissa had nearly forgotten she was there.
“Eh, I mean, I wasn’t getting back into academia any time soon, but I knew that before I even published that paper,” he shrugged, sipping his coke. “Nine months into a post-doc and I was already over it, or else I would have played nice. I didn’t plan to blow up quite as spectacularly as I did in Denmark, but I was planning my exit all the same.”
“Huh,” Martin replied. “That makes quite a lot of sense, actually, now that I’ve met you.”
“Thanks, I think…” Ryland replied, scrunching his brows. “I was so sick of the politics of it all, you know? Like, nobody was in it for the wonder or the joy of discovery, at least none of the people I worked with at the time. So I was like, ‘might as well tell all these idiots what I think of them and their narrow-minded bullspanky.’ Teaching was sort of a happy accident though. I mean, I liked TA-ing when I was in grad school, and Marissa knew they were hiring, so she made some introductions. It was definitely the best offer I got.”
“You were getting several high six-figure offer letters,” Marissa corrected. “You just didn’t like any of them.”
“Uh, obviously. I mean, Lockheed Martin? They would have had me making bio-weapons or something equally terrible. Heck no. Give me 60k at good old GC middle school any day- I mean, who even needs a car? I’m a terrible driver.”
“You lived off of sixty k in San Francisco?” Annie asked, gobsmacked.
“Base salary, yeah. But I could usually pick up some extra by tutoring college students on weekends and holidays, though. That’s what I used to pay for diner breakfasts and Thursday night dinners with Mari. Nobody ever accused me of being financially responsible,” he chuckled. “But I don’t care. Teaching is the best job ever, especially for the kids- they haven’t had the sense of wonder beaten out of them by the world yet. My job was to make sure they never would.”
“Well, Dr. Grace,” Annie Shapiro replied. “I can assure you that Martin and I will make sure to bring our sense of wonder into your class, alive and well.”
He smiled at her, clinking his soda glass with her merlot. “I’ll drink to that!” he cheered.
“I’ll drink to anything,” Ilyukhina interrupted, getting up from the couch to join the toast.
“Well then,” Yao replied. “Let’s all drink to Earth, and to the Hail Mary.”
“To the Hail Mary,” everyone cheered, and it rang through the lounge and into the hallway, where Stratt heard it as she crossed the ship towards her office.
Yes, she thought. Dr. Grace has done his job admirably tonight.