Chapter Text
Grace was hoping the last 5 months of his journey to Erid would be quick and easy. Like the last two weeks of school that you only realize are over until after you leave the building. After everything that happened a few years before, and the limited amount of food he had left, he just wanted to get off the Hail Mary and walk on solid ground, or whatever type of ground Erid had.
But of course, life always has different plans.
It's not that Grace didn't like shock or adrenaline. As a scientist, the unknown was the most exciting thing to experience. Like meeting Rocky, breeding Taumoeba, and seeing the planet Adrian. All of that fed Grace’s brain and soul like a child sucks on those rainbow lollipops. But still, change put an anxious yet anticipatory feeling in his stomach.
Like right now.
Grace was just roaming around the Mary, Rocky following. His alien friend was telling him about Erid, and how when they get there, the scientists will be sure to build Grace whatever he wants. He opened his mouth to respond, but then Mary’s robotic voice cut through.
“Incoming radio transmission. Vessel unknown. Would you like to answer?”
Grace froze, as did Rocky.
What.
WHAT??
Grace stumbled to the control panel, heart racing as he sputtered to respond.
“Humans talk to Grace, question?” Rocky trilled, excitement and confusion laced in his melodic voice. After years of staying with Rocky, Grace didn't need the translator anymore.
“...no…Uh- No. Humans shouldn't be able to reach me from Earth. This is….”
“Incoming radio transmission. Vessel unknown. Would you like to answer?” Mary repeated.
“Grace answer! Maybe star is dying as well! Grace Rocky help!” Rocky urged, pushing his xenonite ball gently against Grace’s leg, which was shaking ever so slightly.
“...Yeah. Uh- yes. Yes, answer please.” Grace told Mary, to which static and horrible quality sound cut through the speakers. It made Grace wince.
Slowly, Grace pressed the microphone's input button, crackling to life. “...Hello? Is uh- anyone there?” Hell, the probability that whatever was in the mysterious vessel spoke English was most likely 0, but maybe-
“...hello?” A raw, shaky voice cut through the static, breathing heavily. The voice was deep, strained as if they were struggling to keep it together.
Although Grace assessed this, it was more subconsciously, as the one thing that caught his eyes was the language.
English.
Human, vulnerable English.
He’d never thought he would hear it come out of another's voice again.
Grace didn't know whether to cry, throw up, or cheer.
“Human! Human speaking!” Rocky trilled, scurrying around excitedly.
“Oh my god- Uh! He-hello, my name is Ryland, Ryland Grace. But everyone just calls me Grace. Are- are you okay? Do you need he-”
“What is- where am I? Why am I floating? I- I was dead-” The voice was desperate and dazed, and they seemed to be breathing with much effort.
“I can help you. What's your name? Are you hurt?” By the sound of it, they definitely were.
“...” The voice refused to answer for a few beats. “If you really wanted to help me…why would you let them cut the cord? Why bother knowing my name? No one cared before. And Ava-” There was the sound of an impact, barely crackling in the speaker. “Fuck!-” The man groaned, panting.
“Okayyyy, I'm gonna be honest, I don't know what you're talking about. But I'm gonna try and help you, okay? Rocky, we have to make a detour.” Grace said, prepping Mary for yet another sidequest. “Look, you're not gonna die, okay? Can you tell me your coordinates? My ship can detect yours if it's close enough. Try and prepare the airlock-”
“Ship? Airlock? Fuck- What the fuck are you talking about? How are you- How are you down here? Im fucking welded in this stupid piece of shit submarine and so should you.” He groaned painfully, and Grace heard a slight thump.
A submarine. In space.
He’s welded in.
What. The. Fuck.
“Last word meaning, question?” Rocky asked, to which Grace opened his mouth to respond in a daze. “...It's a ship built to survive high pressure, in water. Like- deep in the ocean. It's meant to withstand pressure pushing inwards.”
“Should not be in space. Space pressure pulls outwards.” Rocky stated, a bit confused. “Must save.” The alien said firmly, to which Grace nodded.
The fact a human was welded in a submarine and in space was a shock to be handled later. For now, he needed to get to the vessel and save the guy before his ship imploded or he ran out of oxygen.
Grace pressed the button again. “Look- I don't know how you're even alive right now, but I'm coming to get you, okay? Please tell me your coordinates.” Grace stressed, carding his hair with his hands.
The man didn't speak for a while, and Grace was worried he might've passed out, or worse, died, but eventually the man spoke, giving a string of numbers through shallow breaths. Grace immediately punched the numbers into the map.
Surprisingly, he was close. Like, a day away close. In a few hours his ship will show up on the radar, most likely. Finally, a good piece of news.
“My uh- arm got ripped off,” The man’s voice said with a tired huff.
…
DEFINITELY NOT CLOSE ENOUGH NO NO NO NO-
Grace practically stumbled to the pilots seat, rushing to get the engines prepped for the voyage.
“Rocky he's really hurt- like we need to get there fast or he's gonna die-” Grace sputtered.
“...I know you're not real.” The man whispered. Grace paused, already in the pilot's seat and turning the ship in his direction. He couldn't respond, as he was too far from the transmission button. He could only sit and listen as he instructed Mary where to go.
“Fuck- I know this is just another bullshit hallucination. I know that- that thing is just messing with my head again.” A pause. “But I…I don't wanna die. Please.” He heaved, before Grace heard a loud thump, and the static cut out.
Grace's heart pounded in his chest, palms sweating.
“Grace is scared, question?” Rocky said as Grace guided the ship to his coordinates with anxious focus.
“I'm scared for him. He passed out, I'm guessing. And if he's welded in that thing, it's gonna be hard to get him out. Rocky can you prep an airlock tunnel? We have to do this whole thing quickly.” Grace said, sighing as he got up from the seat, Mary moving on auto-pilot.
“Rocky can do it, but with short time, tunnel will not be long. Must get very close to submarine.” Rocky said, already rolling away to start making it.
Grace slumped on the wall, putting his face in his hands, heart racing.
For years, it had just been him and Rocky. Of course, he loved his friend, and being with him has kept him from going insane. But Rocky wasn't human. And as selfish as Grace thinks he is for thinking this, Rocky can't provide comfort a human can. Humans were stupidly high maintenance. They can have food, water, and shelter, but just surviving is never enough. They need touch, socialization. Humans are needy.
Painfully so.
The need for physical touch is usually fulfilled by even the slightest things. Like bumping into someone, a handshake, or the accidental brush of fingertips. But alone in space, Grace can't even get that. He is unfortunately very aware of how starved for touch he is, and as much as he appreciates the company Rocky gives him, the closest they can get to hugging is Grace embracing the xenonite ball Rocky rolls around in.
But now another human is joining him. And Grace couldn't decide if he was happy or terrified. It has been so, so long. The last time he saw one, spoke to one, he was pressed against moist soil, breathing in the earthy scent in quick, shallow breaths as he begged not to be sent to his death.
The last time he cared about another person, they betrayed him. And Grace couldn't even be mad about it. He is a moral coward. Humanity was going to go extinct, and he still refused to accept the mission. He understood why Stratt and Carl did it. He knew he had no right to be angry at people who were already facing the Trolley Problem.
He shouldn't hold a grudge against people he won't ever see again.
Grace shot up from where he sat, shaking his head. “No more sad thoughts, Ryland. You have a person to rescue.” He told himself firmly.
All he has to do is attach the tunnel, create artificial gravity using centrifugal force, vacuum seal it so oxygen runs through it, cut through the metal, and get ‘Mystery man’ out.
Simple, yeah?
—
Simon was dead.
Well, he rightfully is assuming so because one moment he had to rip his arm off, and the next second he wakes up floating in the submarine. The blood that had flooded and coated every inch of the ship was drifting around in clots. The dark, thick liquid was still quite matted into Simon's skin and hair, making him feel grimy and dirty. Though, he was getting used to the feeling.
He could feel his life draining away, or maybe it was the blood still pooling from his arm. Fuck, that was gonna get infected, wasnt it? His oxygen meter was depleted, and he had to force himself to take in small, shallow breaths of whatever chemicals he was inhaling, despite the urge to just take long, deep breaths to calm his pounding heart.
After he passed out the first time, he hadn't heard from Grace again.
He knew Grace was a fake, a last minute effort his brain made up in order to give Simon some sort of peace. The radio never came through that clear. It was always a struggle for Simon to hear anything Ava or David said as it was riddled with static or just cut off mid-sentence. But Grace’s voice was so…clear. He could hear the troubled sound of his breathing, the slight muttering to himself. So, yeah, not real. If anything it might've just been the monster mimicking a voice, making him hallucinate again.
So yeah, Simon is 99% sure he is dead.
Except, he's still in this submarine, and the pain in his arm is still burning and unbearable. So, if there is a 1% chance Simon is maybe alive, he’s gonna try and survive just a little longer.
There's no harm in believing in a saving grace-
Fuck me that pun was not intended.
-for just a little while, is there?
What the hell, of course there was. Simon was just delaying his death in hopes an illusion would rescue him. He could just give up, die while passing out. Probably the best way to die at this point. Instead, he was setting himself for a more painful death. Choking while he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air, his arm, or what's left of it, throbbing in white, hot pain. Yup. That's the death he's essentially giving himself.
But, Simon doesn't want to die.
He doesn't want to die welded in this submarine, sitting (floating?) in a pool of blood, falling in and out of consciousness. He doesn't want to die after trying so hard to survive everything else in his life.
He doesn't want to die without anyone knowing his name. Wouldn't that just be pathetic, yeah?
Is the desire to live so bad?
Simon felt his eyes droop, another sign he was going to pass out yet again. He was gripping onto a pipe to keep him from crashing into the wall, but his grip was becoming loose in exhaustion. His missing left arm was dangling from where he hung, a mess of muscle, skin, and bone. He tried to ignore it. Kind of hard though, no?
He barely noticed the metal wall across from him start to spark.
Simon almost didn't register the loud whirring sound. He looked up, eyes glossing over ever so slightly.
Has the monster come back? His pupils dilated. He assumed it was gone since he wasn't dead yet. Perhaps he was wrong.
His vision began to dot, black ink spreading in his vision as he stared at the wall, expectant of the predator. His body screamed to get up, but fuck, he couldnt.
One moment the wall was there, the next it wasn't.
Precious oxygen rushed through his nose, filling his lungs. The fresh, abundant air made his heart stutter. His brain felt like it was processing ever so slightly again.
The sudden relief did not last, as he felt a familiar weight of gravity push his weak body down, his grip fully slipping off the pipe. His mangled flesh hit the ground with a hard, painful thud, stuck between the bloody floor and his own body. The impact made him jolt. White, hot pain rushing through his veins. His body felt like it was fire, his throat painfully raw as even the pathetic groan and yelp he let out hurt. Red liquid splattered everywhere, painting the SM-13 a familiar shade of red, as well as engraving itself in Simon's pores. The bubbles of blood turned back into its familiar state, thick and metallic, yet runny enough to drip down his face.
In all of this chaos, a small sound caught his attention.
Simon looked up to see an angel staring down at him, a look of pity and horror etched on its face. He was bathed in warm light, and Simon could not stop staring. He really was dead, huh? At least he was being greeted by something as ethereal as this. The angel looked…soft. Surrounded by the deep, gory blood, the angelic creature just made all the noise, all the anxiety in his head, just stop. A soft, melodic flute playing gentle scores in his ears. He felt oddly safe, despite the pain pulsing through his body, his eyes attempting to roll back. For the first time in a long while, Simon felt like he could allow himself to rest, just for a few moments.
Just…a few seconds…
Simon heard a shaky voice, perhaps the angel, before he felt his own body go limp and darkness fill his vision.
–
The smell was unbearable.
When Grace spotted the submarine, blood particles surrounded it, floating space, clotted together. He assumed the worst.
Well, maybe not the worst, because the inside almost made him throw up on himself.
Grace had taken off his helmet while cutting through the metal with a handsaw made by Rocky, much more efficient than the ones on Earth. It worked quickly and cut easily. The pressurized tunnel that connected the two ships allowed Grace to move and breathe freely. He was hoping that the man in the sub was in fact human, and not just sounding like one. It would be pretty bad if he killed an alien because Grace assumed he breathed oxygen.
When the metal he cut through fell to the ground, all Grace could see was red.
First, all of it was floating, only for a split second, then all of it came down like rain when the cabin became pressurized and spun with the Hail Mary ship. It flowed out, pooling at Grace’s boots. The blood was everywhere, on the walls, on the ceilings, covering the pipes. Weird tendrils were covering parts of the rusty metal.
But Grace’s main concern was the man staring at him.
Or, atleast, struggling to keep his eyes open to stare at him. When he had opened up the hole, Grace hadn't accounted for the fact the man had no gravity. Even worse, Grace watched as he fell right on his missing arm. He gasped, watching the man groan and curse under his breath, before his eyes rolled back, and he went limp.
“Oh my god-
Great, hurt the man about to die even more, Ryland. Really showing off how smart you are, huh?
He was covered in blood. Like, drenched in it. It matted in his hair, seeping through and out his clothes. It just smelled of death.
Taking a much too deep of a breath, Grace stepped in and gently tried to pick the man up, hands sweating with nerves and internal panic. God, if he was dead…
Grace doesn't think he could handle another death.
Grace also can't seem to handle picking the man up. The scientist would like to say he was well-built with a good amount of muscle, but compared to this guy, he was like a twig. It took every ounce of strength in his body to finally carry Mystery Man, and even more to walk.
He spotted Rocky at the entrance of the Hail Mary, his notes quick and panicked. “Human dead, question? Why Grace carry when could float with no gravity, question? Grace dumb dumb dumb!” Rocky paced around Grace, who was sweating profusely. He felt the thick blood seep into his own clothes, wetting the crevices of his palms and arms. That's gonna be great to clean.
“Didnt…think that far, Rock.” He panted, trying to set the man on the medical table as gently as he could. “Armando, is he…alive?” Grace asked the medical robot hesitantly.
“Yes, Dr. Grace. Vitals are weak, however. I will begin to perform the necessary surgery and medical procedures.” The robot said, mechanical arms making quick work of the man's clothes, tearing off his shirt and scarf. “Hey- wait Armando, he might want tha…” Grace protested, though his words died in his throat, trailing off. He was going to say it wasn't right to just destroy the man's clothes, and although Armando did pause, Grace was very distracted. Distracted staring at a very, very wounded man, covered in blood and scars and bruises. Staring at a man who should be dead.
Staring at the man with a leather harness on.
“...Shit..”