Chapter Text
5.8 light years, 745 days, 180 days of coma slurry rations.
All different ways of saying the same thing, how much longer until we get to Erid.
It’s been a difficult journey so far. I'm just so tired. I don’t know if it's early malnutrition symptoms, being cooped up with no humans to talk to, or just basic simple boredom. Sure, I have access to every single movie, TV show, and video game ever made available, but somehow there still isn't anything I want to watch.
What I really want is to just sleep. Instead every night I lie in bed exhausted, staring at the ceiling of the ship I will likely spend the rest of my life on. I watch the lights of Hail Mary flicker, and listen as Rocky complains about inefficient human sleep.
Insomnia is a real jerk. I don't know why I have such severe insomnia. I suspect it has something to do with my rapidly dwindling rations of some of the worst food I've ever had the displeasure of eating. Or it could be my brain, betraying me by replaying every single way I'm going to die, slowly, over the course of the next couple years. Scurvy, Beri Beri, allergic reaction to the alien microbes that make up a majority of my caloric needs, there's just so many ways for me to suffer and die. Rocky is very confident that Eridians will be able to remake my food when we get to Erid, but what kind of life is that going to be? I'm not able to survive on Erid, so I'll probably stay in the Hail Mary. Forever.
At least Rocky will visit me. Maybe I'll even get to become some sort of field trip attraction for kids.”Come watch the Alien in his natural environment”.
I’m honestly trying not to let it get to me. I’d probably have gone completely insane by now if it wasn’t for Rocky. Rocky and I watch movies together, we chat, we learn about each other. That worked well for the first two years, but as we go into the second half of our journey, I can feel that I’m getting on his nerves. I’m shocked that it took so long. Everyone else I've ever lived with got sick of me way quicker than this. Most days, he’s working on some project or another in storage or the lab room. I don’t want to bother him, so I just stay in the dormitory. There's been a lot times recently where I don’t get up at all. Probably for the best, conserving calories and all.
Today I'm trying to be productive. By that I mean I'm up and actually trying to clean. My side of the ship is getting messier, which Rocky bemoans every day. I don't even know how it's getting this messy, it's not like I'm doing anything. Still, I should probably clean up. Rocky needs to get around, and if there is too much clutter on the floor it’s hard for him in his ball. I don’t want to make the area he lives in to get even smaller.
I pull out the storage containers so I can dump all of my clutter in there. Right before I dump it I realize there’s already some things in the container. I look at the outside and… oh. It’s Yao’s. This is the container that had all of Yao’s personal effects. I haven’t looked in here since I first woke up on the Hail Mary. Most of it is empty, I've already stolen his clothing and snacks years ago. When I woke up, his clothing was too small for me. Now it fits me better than my own. I’ve already consigned him to the stars with the photos he brought. What’s in this box is all that’s left of him. A good luck knot, a book entirely in Chinese, and his gun.
I pick up his gun and hold it in my hands. He picked a good method. At least it'd be quick. I’ve already done everything I could for earth, and Rocky already knows everything he needs to do for Erid. At this point, I’m just an annoying passenger along for the ride. It wouldn’t take more than a second, and at least then I could sleep.
No. Oh no no no no. Oh Gosh, why did I even think that? That's awful, I would never do that to Rocky. I love Rocky, if I… did that, it would destroy him. Emotionally and literally, shooting a gun on a spaceship is an awful idea unless you really really want to kill everyone on board. Besides, why would I want to die now? After I was such an awful coward on Earth? I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself to save the Earth, and I’m standing here now wanting to die so I can get some sleep? I didn’t think I could make my last days on Earth even more embarrassing.
I hold the gun out like it’s going to burn me. I have to space this. I can't have it on the ship. (But what if I need it?) Oh no, oh no, I do NOT like that thought.
Okay, okay. I just need to get this gun off the ship, right now, and forget that I ever even thought about this.
I stumble down the corridor, holding the gun at arm’s distance. There's no reason to have this on the ship. Rocky doesn’t need it, It wouldn’t work without oxygen anyway. I throw it in the airlock, and cycle out the air. No need to throw the oxygen out with the bath water. That’s probably the saying. I override the airlock restrictions, as Mary yells at me, until- Okay. The gun was spaced. I’m safe. It’s all good.
I hear the tumbling of a xeonite ball rushing towards my location. I may have spoken too soon.
“Grace ok question? I hear airlock question?? Grace space walk without telling Rocky Question?????” Oh dang he sounds mad. Darn it. I probably should have given him a heads up before doing that. It’s polite roommate behavior to let the other roommate know before opening a door into the empty vacuum of space.
“I’m fine Rocky! Sorry about that!’ Rocky makes it into the room with me. Yeah, he clearly was rushing here, there are a bunch of tools in the ball with him, getting tossed around. He runs directly up to me and taps the ball a bunch with his little claw. It’s his way of making more noise to see what’s going on.
“Why Grace open airlock question?? Grace ok question? Hear heart beating fast, then hear you rush to room then airlock. What happen, question??” Oh darn it. How do I explain to the human lie detector that I had a bad thought and scared myself. I’m not just irritable from lack of sleep, constantly talking about eating, now I’m getting scared of my own thoughts. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves so much better than this.
“I uh, I found something dangerous on the ship. I had to get rid of it. I should have let you know first. I’m sorry.” I feel like “I’m sorry” is all I say to Rocky nowadays. It’s not fair.
“What dangerous item question? Grace okay question?” Damn it. How do I explain this? How do I tell him I’m not okay, that I’m not going to be okay? He’s spent 46 years alone in space, and I can’t even spend 2 years with my best friend? I don’t know how to do this, any of this. I start crying. Great, now he’s gonna comment on my “leaking”. This is awful, I’m the worst roommate he could have asked for. Yao would be fine. DuBois, Shapiro, Ilyukhina, all of them would have been able to do this. They were astronauts, they dreamed of this, they were ready for this. Instead I’m here, sobbing over nothing. I slide down to the floor and into a little ball. I can’t keep going like this.
“Rocky, we need to have a talk.” Gosh, it sounds like I’m breaking up with him. I guess in a way, maybe I kinda am.
“Good good good. Grace talk less recent. I miss Rocky Grace talk.”
I have to rip the bandaid off on this one. He needs to know what’s going on. “Rocky, I'm pretty sure I have a mental illness.” Rocky stands up straight when I say that. “The name of the illness is depression. I don't have enough of the chemicals in my brain that make me happy or motivated. It’s making me act differently than I used to.”
Rocky starts to shake. It’s a moment before he speaks again. “Illness serious, question? Curable question? Ship give medicine for illness question?”
I looked into that a while ago. Stratt packed this ship to the brim with pretty much every medicine that could reasonably be needed. Unfortunately anti-depressants don’t seem to be on the “reasonably needed” list. It makes some sense. SSRIs can take a couple months to take effect, and the mission was only scheduled to be a couple of months in the first place. Astronauts are normally screened pretty extensively for a history of mental illnesses. Unfortunately, I’m not an astronaut. There are plenty of short term meds here, painkillers, sedatives, and more methamphetamines than you could shake a stick at, but no anti-depressants. Frankly it may be for the best. If there were any, it wouldn't be enough to make it the rest of the trip, and I don't feel like going through brain zaps during withdrawals along with all my other issues.
“Not the kind I need Rocky. Even if they did pack medications for this, they wouldn't have packed enough for the next two years until we get to Erid.” Rocky crouches down, while still shaking. He doesn’t like being reminded that this was a suicide mission. That makes two of us bud.
We are both quiet for a couple of moments. I need to calm down and think things through rationally. I’m a scientist. How would a scientist get through this? Well. There’s the way we planned for the astronauts to get through this.
“I think I need to go into a coma, until we get to Erid.” Rocky explodes in a fervor of movement.
“No no no! Grace crazy, question? Dangerous sleep kill crew!!”
Well, yes I am crazy. That’s the problem here. “I know Rocky, but I don't think I can keep living like this.”
“If Rocky say, Rocky is ill, so Rocky must be exposed to radiation what would Grace say?!?”
“Well, radiation is used in medical treatments on Earth, so that’s not so unusual.” Rocky is shaking as hard as I’ve ever seen him shake before. “I know that's not what you mean.”
“Grace, please. Please. Don’t do this. Grace. I can't watch you sleep whole time. Grace can be in danger and I not help. Grace can die!!”
I hate that the idea of going to sleep and dying doesn’t sound as bad as it used to. I wouldn’t know. It would be like falling asleep. “I know Rocky but the risk is lower than what I might do to myself if I keep living like this.” I didn’t mean to say that.
“What mean. What Grace do to self.”
I just keep making things worse for Rocky. I just want to stop, to make him feel better for once. The only upside to this conversation is that I'm just so tired, I don't even feel awful telling him this. I’m just numb. “The item I threw out the airlock was a gun. It's a weapon that uses explosions to propel a small piece of metal.”
“Why weapon on ship?”
“You know the mission was meant to be a one way trip. All the astronauts were meant to die. So as a kindness, so they didn't have to die in pain, they gave the astronauts the option of how they wanted to kill themselves. Yao picked a gun. It's quick and fast. I found his gun when I was cleaning up earlier, and…” I feel numb, so why can't I stop crying? “I wasn't going to use it, but I didn’t think its safe to have on the ship. If I get worse, or if I'm in a dark dark place, I don't want it to be a temptation.”
“What Grace want do, question?”
Do Eridians even have a concept of suicide? Am I introducing this to him in the first place? “There is some part of me that wants a quick death instead of a long one, and I don't trust myself.” I want to hug his ball, but I don’t want to crowd him right now. I have to get through this. “Rocky, I know how miserable I've been to live with this past year. I'm not doing well, and frankly, I'm just going to get worse. This is why humans decided on the coma plan in the first place. It's a risk, but humans aren't made to be in a confined space, with the knowledge that they are going to die.”
I look up at Rocky. He’s still again. I can feel a vibration building in my chest, but I don't hear anything. I think Rocky is vocalizing under my hearing range.
“Grace. I can not sleep alone again. I can not.”
I release a sigh. Every part of this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have spaced the gun. I shouldn't have believed that Rocky could accept this. I shouldn't have brought it up. Now both of us are going to be miserable.
“Other treatment for illness? Anything, question?”
“There are treatments, but I can't do them on the ship. The best treatment includes medicine, changing my environment, changing diet, CBT therapy. None of that is possible for me right now.”
I don’t even know if I could if I had access to it. I'm tired. I'm just so tired.
“Grace say can not do best treatment. Illness common? Rocky research other treatment.”
“Yeah, it's pretty well known.” Rocky bumps his ball into me. I lean forward so my head is resting on the ball and look down at him.
“Grace try treatment. Try try try. Please.”
How can someone without any eyes at all still give such strong puppy dog eyes. I just want to stop hurting my best friend. “Sure Rock.”
“Rocky Grace try treatment. If treatment not work, then.” Rocky shudders one more time. “Then Grace do dangerous sleep.”