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He was going to die out there.
He had accepted it as much as one can. What sucked is what little peace he'd made with it would be forgotten upon his arrival at his final resting sight.
Why had he threatened to sabotage the mission? Was he really so horrifically petty that he would doom all of humanity because he didn't get his way?
He also knew he was drugged so he wouldn't know how and when he's was being transported. (Or where but at this point did it really matter?) And, so that he couldn't fight back. He wouldn't anyway. What good could it do him? All he could do now was savor the few moments he had with his mind mostly intact. And his last few moments on Earth. Even if they were in a locked, padded, windowless room in case he tried to kill himself before being sent out. As if he wasn't still terrified of death. Even if he had more or less come to terms with living a few short unconscious years, followed by a few shorter uncomfortable months.
He was trying not to wallow on all the things he would never see again, the sounds he'd never hear, tastes he'd never get to experience, things he'd never feel.
His last memory of touching grass would be would be clutching the ground below him for dear life as he felt the needle prick his arm. The world left him for the dull black of induced sleep soon after, but his senses had already blurred together in pure panic. He also tried not to feel like he was about to be put down like a dog when personnel came to put him into a coma.
He could hear Stratt's voice echoing around in his head. No matter what he tried to the think of it wouldn't leave. At least he would be able to forget that for a bit.
"Dr. Grace. You're a coward and you're full of shit."
He knew he was a coward. That had not been any sort of revelation. He didn't want to die, even if it meant helping save the world. He didn't always avoid risks, he did work with loaded astrophage pretty consistently for years. But he hadn't been dishonest. He wasn't meant to be out in space. He wouldn't be the right person for the job. He was a failed academic who taught middle school and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time though the worst chain of coincidences ever known. His place was in a classroom, he knew that by now. Putting him up there may very well be the doom of humanity. By now he just hoped that Yáo and Ilyukhina would be able to drag him along enough to be useful with his mind scrambled like the diner breakfasts he'd never have again.
This was going to be horrible. He thought once again, tracing the faintest signs of wear throughout the room. He didn't know what time it was, or exactly how long until he was put to sleep and shipped off, but he knew it was happening today. All that was left was to wait.
"All those kids you'll be saving. Think of them."
But they would be here on Earth, dying, and watching their world die. And he would be stumbling around in space not even knowing they existed. He was going to miss teaching more than almost anything else.
There were suddenly two sets of footsteps walking towards the room he was in. Barely audible and completely lost to him as he thought. He sat up from where he had been lying on the semi-bed sticking from the wall, with only a little wobble from whatever dopey concoction that had been pumped through him the last time he passed out.
Well, suppose this is it.
★-----★
They were going to die out here.
This wasn't new knowledge. They had been all but stranded in this accursed star system for orders of magnitude longer than the mission had been intended to last. If they hadn't been able to repair what they had, they would be dead at least Iℓ times over. It was exhausting. But they couldn't sleep, alone in the silence that had killed their crew. Stolen the voices of the people they knew. So they worked on whatever they could as long as they could stay awake.
The mission, as much as they could with half the external mechanisms damaged or completely lost. Keeping the ship alive with everything they have aboard. (A stockpile they can't help notice growing smaller over countless days alone.) Recording anything and everything they can about what they've found, helpful or not. It makes them feel slightly less alone to speak to some far away scientist. Slightly. Any minor issue or potential tool that came to mind (and wouldn't cost them more than they could spare) they worked on.
Anything but the silence.
They could hear their commander's voice in their mind. At first it had just been a memory. But now, they could hear them in the room around them, or in the hallway around corners. Seeming so real.
"♬Keep going. As long as you can, don't let the mission fail.♭"
They had stopped tapping to confirm what they were hearing a long while ago. It wasn't worth the effort. There was no one there. They could accept that. Even if some part of them seemed desperate to find otherwise. But the message rang true even Iℓℓs of years later. As long as they were alive, as long as they were here, the mission wasn't over. It hasn't failed. So they kept on.
At times they had wondered if they truly were still alive. The only sounds available to confirm were the monotonous clicks and chimes of the ship. Paired with the occasional alarm they had begun to dread at all hours. The engines were an option as well, but that meant moving. And unless something felt worth investigating for any potential solution for their home, they didn't want to use the resources. No matter how much extra had been left from their trip.
They had tried to put searching for an answer to what killed their crew out of their mind. It worked sometimes, if they had something else to do. Something else to think about.
"♪Remember all our people on Erid. Remember your people.°"
That advice had long since stopped helping their fragile state of mind. There was nothing left to do but remember. No progress, no shared hopes, no treasured reminiscing. Every memory of home was painful, as much as it kept them alive. They missed Adrian more than anything. The only one they truly thought of as theirs.
The long dreaded alarm burst through the ship. Some new issues had manifest and this would be their focus for the foreseeable future. Potentially their death come sooner rather than later, but they hadn't thought about that much since the λrd critical error. If it happened it happened.
At least it was something to think about.