Chapter Text
A flash of yellow blurred past my office window, followed by a sea of men in dark suits.
"What the—"
I surged to my feet, my chair hitting the floor with a crash. I raced to the window, my breath fogging the glass as I confirmed my worst fear. It was him.
I didn't grab my coat. I didn't care about the Baltic wind howling outside. I threw the door open with such force that the glass window shattered against the wall, but I didn't slow down. I ran. I ran until my lungs burned. I was almost there when a security guard intercepted Ryland, swiping him from the side with a brutal tackle. He hit the ground hard.
"NO!" I screamed.
Before I could take another step, Stratt’s men swarmed me. I felt the presence of a firearm drawn in my direction—a silent, lethal command to stay back. I was forced to stand there, helpless, watching the terror in Ryland's eyes as he begged them to stop. They pinned him down, his cries muffled by the dirt, as a medic pulled a syringe from a black case.
"Stop this! Why are you doing this to him?" I pleaded, my voice cracking. "He’s my friend! Don’t do this! RYLAND! LET ME GO!"
The deed was done in seconds. The guards finally retracted their weapons. I staggered toward the motionless yellow coat lying in the dirt. It was too late; he was already gone.
"Dr. Grace?" I shook him lightly, my voice fading to a whisper. "Ryland, please..."
"He can’t hear you." Carl was standing over us, his expression unreadable as the medical team moved in.
"Why, Carl?" I looked up at him, my vision blurring. "You’re friends. We’re all friends. How can you let them do this?"
"This isn’t about us," Carl said, his voice empty and clinical. "This is about the world. Talk to Stratt. She made the call."
I watched, paralyzed, as they hoisted Ryland’s limp body onto a gurney and slid him into the back of an ambulance. The red and blue lights faded into the gray distance, taking the only kind hearted person in this base with them.
"He’s going to do great." Carl muttered.
I didn't wait for another word. I turned and sprinted toward the main building. I had one goal: Eva Stratt.
-
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PLAYING AT, YOU BITCH!" I slammed her laptop shut.
Stratt didn't flinch. She sat in her high-backed chair, as calm as ever. "Dr. Grace has been selected as the replacement scientist. He possesses the coma-resistant gene. He will be remembered as a hero."
"He didn't want to go! Does that mean nothing to you?" I was shaking with rage. I wanted to kill her, and I might have tried if it weren't for the four armed guards standing in the shadows of the room.
"My job is to do whatever is necessary for the survival of the human race," Stratt snapped, her voice finally rising. "If that means sending the most qualified person in this base to his death to give eight billion people a chance to live, then yes, I will do it. Do I make myself clear?"
I sank into the chair, the air leaving my lungs. I was lost for words.
"Please,____," she said, her tone softening just a fraction. "This is bigger than our feelings. I know you care for Dr. Grace beyond a professional capacity, but the board added you to this mission for your expertise in astronomy and for your dedication to research, much to my disapproval. If you want any chance of seeing him again, go pack his belongings. And yours. Now."
I got to my feet, brushing the dust off my clothes. I had nothing left to say to her.
I walked to our shared bunk. I had been a late addition to the crew, and Ryland—ever the gentleman—had offered me the spare bed in his room so I wouldn't have to share a space with a Russian officer twice my age. I sat on his bottom bunk. Stratt was right; I cared for him. He was the kind of man who held a door for you when you were fifty paces behind, the guy who let you have the last of the coffee.
He didn't want this. He was a school teacher. He wanted to be there for his students so they wouldn't have to face the end of the world alone.
I picked up one of his knitted beanbags from the nightstand. I stared at the yarn, and that's when I realized—it wasn't just a toy. It was Earth. I was literally holding the world in my hand. I couldn't let him go alone.
"Pull it together," I whispered, wiping my eyes. I tossed the 'Earth' in the air and caught it.
I packed his things with a neat, painful precision. At least when he woke up, he would know someone cared. I was zipping my own bag when the door opened.
"Let’s go." Stratt’s accent was like nails on a chalkboard.
"Can I have a minute?" I snapped.
"You’ve had thirty. Move."
As I followed her down the hall, her guards flanking us, Stratt leaned closer. Her voice actually sounded concerned for the first time.
"It’s about Dr. Grace," she said. "The sedative we gave him is much stronger than yours."
"Why?"
"Don’t interrupt. Before he ran, he threatened to sabotage the mission. We both know he is a good man, but I cannot take that risk. I have authorized an induced amnesia protocol. By the time he regains his memory, he will be too far along to turn back. It is imperative that no one on the Hail Mary tells him the truth until the mission is complete."
I stopped walking.
"You're wiping his mind."
"I am saving the species," she countered. "I am asking you, on behalf of humanity: do not jeopardize this with your feelings. Do not give him anything that will cost us our lives."
I sighed, a heavy, soul-crushing sound.
"You have my word."
Stratt extended her hand. It was the first and last time I would ever shake it.
"We thank you for your sacrifice. Find us an answer out there."
"I'm doing this for him, Eva. Not for you."
I walked into the medical bay. Ilyukhina and Yáo were already under, their heart monitors chirping in a steady rhythm. Then I saw him in the corner.
"Oh, thank God," I whispered, walking to his bedside. I reached out to take his hand, then hesitated. He wouldn't remember me. He wouldn't remember the 'us' we were starting to build. He would wake up in the dark, lightyears from home, and I would have to pretend I didn't know the man I had started to love.
But at least I would be there.
"See you on the other side," I whispered, and kissed his hand.
I lay down in my own cradle. The nurse gave me a look of pure sympathy as she pressed the needle into the base of my neck.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then the world blurred, the lights dimmed, and I felt nothing at all.