Chapter Text
"Incoming transmission." Mary's computerized voice rouses Simon from his thoughts.
He glances over at the screen that was displaying the sampler instructions, only now it's been hijacked by a large black pop-up console with white text.
"What the..." He mutters to himself, setting down the screwdriver and pulling the laptop closer. "Mary, what is this?"
"Incoming transmission." The emotionless voice repeats plainly.
The console reads, 'Connecting. Wait. Wait.' Then, a whole slew of words quickly appear, no hesitation in between. Simon recognizes it as some sort of diagnostics, but he doesn't understand why it's showing up on his computer. This is the transmission?
At the bottom, it lists something called the 'Blackbox Recovery Program'. Sounds important. You don't set up a recovery program for something meaningless, it would be a waste of time.
'Insufficient privileges.' The console displays when he tries to initiate the program.
"So, it's gonna be like that, is it?" Simon narrows his eyes at the screen and cracks his knuckles.
He might be a little out of practice by now, but they didn't call him McKinnon 2.0 for nothing. Surely it shouldn't be that hard to give himself the proper permissions he needs to run this obscure recovery program.
It took longer than he would like to admit, but Simon manages to brute force his way into the mysterious console and get the information he was apparently looking for. He's not sure what any of it means, but that's a problem for future Simon.
Right now, he's a little more concerned with the status of whoever, or whatever, sent that transmission. Was it a distress beacon? The diagnostics on the screen at the start had been grim, but it also showed that someone was still accessing the overall system fairly recently.
Adrian was able to pin point the location of the transmission, which brought on a whole new set of problems.
Firstly, Genesis—the name Simon gave to Tau Ceti E after they discovered life in the Petrova line-- apparently has a moon. At least, that's what they were calling it for now. It didn't resemble any moon Simon has ever seen, but he's also literal galaxies away from home right now. Alien planets and exoplanets are bound to have alien moons.
Second, how the fuck are they supposed to get down there?
If it is a moon, then it shouldn't have an atmosphere, which means the Hail Mary can get a lot closer to it than it ever could to Genesis. And then what? Just lower Simon down in his EVA suit on a really long chain to see what he can find? It's a stupid plan.
---
"God damned transmission." Simon grumbles to himself as he steps foot on the only solid piece of ground he can find.
It looks like roots, tangled and twisted, snaking into the red liquid that covers the moon's surface. The bone white wood is a stark contrast to the crimson ocean, it’s unsettling.
Simon carefully picks his way towards the base of the tree, his wrist mounted radar pinging on something else nearby. He peeks around the trunk and stares at a mess of mangled wreckage. It reminds him vaguely of a submarine, if you squint and ignore the gaping hole in the side. He'd seen a fair number of them back during his time in the navy, but he'd never worked on any of them. Like hell would he ever be caught dead becoming a nuke. Then again, he was currently in space on a suicide mission...a similar fate, really.
He creeps towards the twisted metal cautiously, peering inside once he’s close enough. It's full of that same red liquid, only more viscous and...goopy. There are dried patches on the walls and ugly masses growing along the pipes. It's disgusting.
Simon is about to turn around and write the whole thing off as a loss when his gaze falls on a suspiciously humanoid shaped blob slumped against the far wall.
Bingo.
He takes a deep breath and climbs inside the battered vessel. His footsteps squish and swash through the scarlet fluid as he makes his way towards the occupant. On instinct, he crouches to check for a pulse, only to realize that he can't feel shit through the thick gloves of his EVA suit.
"Fuck."
<"What problem, question?"> Adrian chirps in his radio.
"Nothing." Simon grunts as he instead begins to carefully peel the individual from the wall with a grimace.
If they are still alive, hopefully he isn't hurting them too much.
"I think I found who sent the message, but they're in pretty bad shape."
<"Amaze. Bring back to Mary, have robot fix, question?">
"Yeah, maybe. I don't even know if they're human."
While the thing is human-ish shaped, they very well could be an entirely new species of alien that Simon, Adrian, nor the robot are familiar with. If it isn’t human, what good can any of them really do for it?
<"Message sent in human language. Must be human, statement.">
Adrian has a point. The transmission was indeed sent in a human language. Hell, it was even in a language that Simon could understand, what were the odds? He'd already checked if it had been translated automatically by Mary upon receival, but no. It was simply sent originally in English.
Simon lifts the figure into his arms and sloshes his way out of the strange sub. He places the individual gently down onto the roots of the tree and removes the bag he's carrying that contains one of the extra EVA suits. He'd packed it on the off chance that it could be useful on this fucked up alien moon.
It was a bit of a struggle to tug a stiff EVA suit onto a limp body, but he manages. It’s also at this point that Simon’s sure the thing is almost definitely human, and they’re missing most of their right leg. It looks like a nasty wound, as if it had been torn off violently rather than cut away cleanly. What the hell could do something like that? Simon didn't want to dwell on it for too long, he just wants to go back to his own ship.
He makes his way to the tether he took down here in the first place and hooks himself in, tying the extra rope he'd brought around the new dead weight to secure them to his back. Then he starts hauling himself back up to the Hail Mary, silently cursing his own obnoxious sense of morality. He knows he can’t just ignore someone stranded and probably left for dead, but this really fucking sucks.
Once inside the airlock, Simon pulls the outer door closed and starts the cycle. He’s relieved the chain that he made with Adrian’s xenonite held up under the weight of two fully grown men. At least, he’s pretty sure what he dragged out of that sorry excuse for a ship is a man. It’s a little hard to tell with all the blood, but-
He’s startled when a hand suddenly closes around his ankle, causing him to instinctively kick it away and take a step back.
"Wait, please-" The man moves to stand, flopping over pathetically when he tries putting weight on a leg that's no longer there.
"You-you have to stop them! No one can ever be sent down there again, it's-" He claws at the floor, scraping his way towards Simon. "It's not worth it! The blackbox-! The logs will tell you! You have to have it, please tell me you have it!"
He's completely hysterical, nothing he’s saying makes any sense to Simon. A crazed crystal blue eye stares desperately up at Simon, and for a moment he feels his breath hitch in his throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Simon shakes his head and holds his hands out in a sad attempt to calm the situation. “Just take it easy, you shouldn’t be moving around so much.”
The question of how he was able to move at all is at the forefront of Simon’s mind, especially as the stranger pulls himself to his feet-- er, foot-- using the wall. He seems to be searching for something, but Simon’s not entirely sure what.
“No...nonono, I have to- I need to go back-!” The man’s gaze lands on the airlock controls and he hits the eject command without a second thought. “They’ll never believe me...proof-! I need proof!” He’s rambling to the empty air, staring back out the tiny window towards the blood soaked moon.
“Shit-!” Simon scrambles to cancel the order as alarms blare.
He has no desire to be shot out into the vacuum of space, regardless of the fact that he’s still in his EVA suit.
“What the fuck are you doing?! Are you insane?!” Maybe a poor choice of words.
"The blackbox- need to..to..." The psychopath slumps against the wall, trailing off as he slides down to the floor and goes still.
Simon wonders briefly if he just watched a man die right in front of him, a thought he quickly pushes away as he reaches to check for a pulse. It's incredibly weak, but it's there. He's still alive, for now. Any adrenaline he had in his system has probably just worn off and his body shut down from the shock of whatever the hell he must have gone through to end up looking like this.
<”Simon okay, question? Big alert, much yelling.”> A concerned Adrian chimes through the radio.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Simon sighs. “You might want to stand back, this guy is a bit...messy.”
<”Simon bring mess on ship, bad bad bad.”>
Simon rolls his eyes at Adrian’s complaint and attempts to lift the man as gently as possible, he’s still surprised by just how little he seems to weigh. Then again, he is missing a leg. Simon's not sure how much a leg weighs, but it can't be that significant.
He carries the unconscious maybe human to the med bay and lays him down a bed in front of the robot. He’s not bothering to remove the EVA suit himself, the robot can handle that much alone. Once he's satisfied, he leaves the room to ditch his own suit and find a fresh set of clothes. As he’s busy cleaning up the mysterious crimson liquid, he’s sure to collect a few samples for later. Adrian will likely want to investigate and experiment, who is he to ruin their fun?
Days pass, but there’s still not so much as a twitch from the stranger. As far as Simon can tell, he's still breathing. He trusts the robot enough to keep the guy alive, but recovery and treatment are a whole other story. He was in a terrible state when Simon found him. He spends much of his time sitting at the stranger’s bedside, just...thinking.
Eventually, Adrian prompts him with a question.
<”What wrong, question?”>
Simon’s hands are folded together, resting against his chin in silent contemplation.
“It’s just...weird.” He mutters and Adrian hums in response. “Why was he left down there in the first place? It sounded like he found something pretty important, you’d think someone would come along to pick him up again.”
<”Ask when Convict wakes up.”>
It makes Simon uncomfortable to keep referring to this individual as ‘Convict’, but that was the only real bit of information about the guy that he’d managed to find so far. Sure, he had the ship’s logs completely decoded by now, there was just no real mention of those on board.
Well, there were the audio logs. Sometimes, whoever left the log was kind enough to state their name at the start, only none of the people from the logs sounded like what Simon had heard from the strange man in the airlock. In fact, the voice memos were usually left by some woman named Ilyukhina.
“If he ever does,” Simon sighs and sits up a little straighter, cracking his stiff neck. “It’s been days.”
<“...Simon.”> Adrian rests a hand on his shoulder.
Then, they lower into a comfortable position near the bed.
<“You rest. I watch.”>
~
“We need to get her on her side-!” Grace urges as he drops to his knees, splashing down into the rising blood.
He fumbles clumsily, gripping the side of Ilhyukina’s arm in the hopes that he can manage to flip her. The cuffs cutting into his wrists make the task more difficult than it needs to be. A firm hand on one shoulder yanks him away sharply from the writhing woman and he’s thrown roughly into the far wall.
“Hands off, Convict!” Commander Yao snaps, concerned the reportedly highly dangerous criminal will only make the situation worse.
Grace shrinks away from the angry man, feebly continuing his pleas.
“B-but-”
~
“No…” A hoarse voice barely whispers into an oxygen mask.
Adrian perks up at the sound, noting the uneasy squirming of the otherwise unconscious man. They consider informing Simon, but the sound and movement stop just as quickly as they had started.
The Eridian settles back into place and continues their calm vigil.