Chapter Text
Cold.
That's all it ever was, as the sun dimmed. Everyone who survived the harsh winters, the mass withering of crops, and the freezing of nearly all of the water on the planet waited.
The creature killing them had become a temporary bandaid in the time since the Hail Mary was launched; Astrophage was the energy needed to keep what was left of humanity alive.
Small pockets of life were along the equator, some on the surface but most underground, absorbing heat from Earth itself. Food was scarce, and hope was at an all time low.
Everyone was waiting for their saviors. No one knew how long it would take them to figure it out, nor if they were already dead.
Eva Stratt and the team who stayed knew where they were programmed to land, and twice of each month they came out to check.
Despite all of the space agencies across the globe having their telescopes pointed towards the stars, the very concept of the beetles slipping by their sights and becoming lost in the cold winter was enough to convince them to send a portion of the team working on Project Hail Mary to check.
Eva Stratt had spent quite a long time in prison for her actions. It took a lot of pleading and begging, but they decided to send her to keep an eye out. Besides, when the probes did land, they needed her to be sane, not stuck in a box for the rest of her life.
Eva knew the rest of the crew's eager anticipation had waned, no doubt a combination of the years it took and the amount of loss that had occurred in their lifetimes.
She... couldn't exactly say the same. It wasn't that she didn't care; she had put her life on the line to save everyone and everything. She cared with her entire body.
Eva knew how long it would take, how long they would have to wait to see if Grace did the impossible, so she didn't allow herself to become nervous. Her team needed her as much as the project needed them. They needed a stable leader.
If Eva gave up, everything she had sacrificed would be for nothing.
Grace would have been for nothing.
So she kept steady. Kept her hands clasped and her face trained. Nothing mattered more than this.
The icebreaker about a mile ahead softly glided through the thick sheet, and the crew members occasionally crackled in through the radio to check in on the ship behind them.
Eva Stratt had been awake for about 10 hours now.
The sun, or what was left of it, was settling into the horizon, leaving brilliant colors in the sky as it slid into her icy blanket.
The other crew members, a handful from the Petrova Taskforce, had quickly retired, leaving just her, the helmsman, and one of the navigators quietly watching the sunset.
"I miss when I could see the water." The navigator, Darya, spoke. She had been mumbling every half hour or so to stave off boredom.
She wasn't the most positive little bulb, but she seemed to like Eva. The crew mates born after Project Hail Mary didn't like her as much. The helmsman, for example, kept dreadfully quiet. He didn't care much for conversation, or talking with a woman who sent people off to die.
Stratt simply hummed, allowing her to continue. The cup of tea in her hands warmed her fingers wonderfully, and she wanted to bask in that feeling just a little more.
"The colors painted the waves so beautifully. I wish I were an artist. A shame some kids never got to see that." She tapped her fingers on the console in front of her.
"Those kids will never get to see a forest. How I'd kill to see a strawberry tree again." After those words, she went quiet.
Eva turned towards the other lady. Darya's eyes were glossy, beautiful colors reflected in her pupils and the tear that threatened to drip off of her cheek.
She put down her cup gently and moved closer to Darya, making eye contact the entire way. "We still have a chance to. We just have to wait."
Darya glanced away from Eva after a moment. The woolen glove on her hand left a red mark as she wiped the tear off of her face. "...I suppose so. I just... I just hope it's soon."
Eva didn't have the chance to speak further as Darya's entire body stilled. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, before settling on words.
"...Is that a submarine?"
Stratt followed her line of sight to the water. Like a blot of ink on paper, the dark, shabby sub was halfway dug into the layer of ice. As if the sight of a sub wasn't curious enough, a thick splat of carmine surrounded it like a shadow.
Darya slowly leaned forward, pressing the button for the radio. "...Do you all see that? Port side?"
The icebreaker crackled in after a few seconds. The man on the radio seemed as stunned as they were. "I swear that wasn't there a moment ago. Is that... one of your... things?"
"No. Should we grab it?" Darya asked, both to Stratt and the man. Stratt, after a moment of contemplation, nodded.
It took a bit of effort and ingenuity, but the submarine was now safely aboard the cargo ship.
It was extremely small, about half the size of the shipping containers aboard. The welding job was... shoddy, at best, but it held up well. Scrawled across the rusty panels was thick, white paint that read 'SM-14', something that didn't pop up on any of their records.
The red substance on the outside of the vehicle was already crystallized and a trail of red shards lead off of the boat.
At first, they didn't know if opening the submarine was a good option or not. The first explanation that appeared in Stratt's head was that it could be a rogue country attempting to sabotage them... but why? How?
The more Stratt thought about it, the less it made sense. The vessel looked like it had been dropped onto the ice...
...but after the yelling from inside started, the engineers scrambled to get ahold of their tools. It took a while, but a head-sized hole was cut out.
As soon as the metal plate fell inwards, a face lurched out of it.
Stratt was too far away to make out the details, but she knew the person was panicked. The engineers attempted to assure them, but it barely worked.
So, they took a few steps back and allowed Stratt to take the floor.
"Where am I? How am I not dead? Where's Simon?" The lady spoke quickly, her voice hoarse from her previous shouting.
Stratt quietly waited for her to stop talking. It took a bit longer than expected, but the lady calmed down and waited for her response.
"You're aboard the MSC Nova. We found your sub on the ice of the South Atlantic Ocean."
The lady quietly took in the information, all of her previous aggression dampened by the information. Then, her face paled. "...Atlantic Ocean?"
"Yes, that is what I said." Stratt nodded her head once.
"...On Earth?" The lady trembled as if the question she had asked wasn't obvious.
"Yes."
She covered her mouth, a small whimper escaping through her fingers. Her wide eyes, one grayish blue and the other a blind white, darted around Stratt, as if the ship wasn't real.
"Oh my... oh my god." She finally muttered, tears dripping down her face. "Oh my god."
Stratt was about to ask where she came from as the lady collapsed, hyperventilation finally getting to her.
The rest of the wall was cut out, and her limp body was dragged to one of the unoccupied bedrooms, and the chief mate checked her vitals.
Eva still didn't know what to think of what had happened.
A woman, in an odd uniform and a shoddy submarine, randomly appearing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean... So many questions invaded her mind. Why was she so afraid? What did the badge on her jacket mean? How is she here? Where did she come from?
The chief mate finally exited the room, gently closing the door behind him. Eva stood up from the chair she had taken with her.
"She's alright. I think she passed out from fright, is all. She only had a few knicks and bumps on her, but she should be awake soon."
Stratt glanced towards the closed door before speaking again. "Thank you."
"Just doing my job. I have to go deal with the crew now, but report to me as soon as you talk to her."
As soon as the chief mate left, she moved into the room as quietly as she could. The lady was lying on her side, her greasy hair spread beside her.
She was beautiful, if anything. Her jaw was sharp, and her eyelids were darkened with what seemed to be charcoal in an attempt to mimic mascara.
The feature that drew Eva's eyes the most was the light, keloid scar across the right side of her face. It reminded Stratt of a tree branch.
That beautiful face screwed up in obvious discomfort, before her eyes fluttered open.
Stratt didn't even bother speaking as the woman scrambled and promptly fell off of the bed.
Stratt was very glad that she had a month to get to the bottom of this.