Chapter Text
Stratt had come to the conclusion pretty early in her career that being late to a meeting should be on the list of Cardinal Sins. At least in her opinion it should be. She despised sitting at the table idly, twiddling her thumbs for five, ten minutes after the meeting began, until whomever it was she was meeting with showed up. So, she swore to herself to never be late for a meeting; in fact, she decided to show up to meetings early . It was one of her few faults she let herself keep as World Dictator, Pro Tempore. Grace had refused to go to meetings with her for the past month, citing a dislike for “sitting in meeting rooms, doing nothing, for hours on end!” as he had put it. It hadn’t ever been over thirty minutes at a time, but…
Grace…
As she opened the door and walked in, she noted that the meeting room was cold. It was always cold in the trailers, anyways, since the builders hadn’t installed the AC properly in most of the trailers, but Stratt doubted that it was the AC that made this room especially frigid.
There were two ways this meeting could go: Grace would go the easy way, or Grace would go the hard way. Since she ordered a media blackout, the Hail Mary Project and its representatives were forbidden from giving any statements at all , no matter how small. She couldn’t take the chance that something would slip through the cracks; that something would get out and cause a panic. She was Eva god-damned Stratt, and she wouldn’t allow it. By six p.m. tonight, a calm, clear message would go out to main news sources in each country stating that the two first science specialists had died, and Dr. Ryland Grace, a tertiary expert who was the leading expert in astrophage, would go in their steads. An order to replace the Hail Mary logo was already in order, though not every logo would be, or could be, replaced. The important thing was that Grace would go, either way.
Stratt sat at the table and set the papers down before her, tracing the timeline, connections, and patterns of cause and effect in her head. She would first make it a team effort to explain what happened (to make people feel like the story was more authentic – not that it wasn’t in the first place, all that she was going to say was very much so true), then explain the issue with the crew, and the decision to be made. The panel would, of course, choose Grace. Then, come 12:30, he would arrive. He would be sat, explained to, and asked the question.
If he said “Yes”, that was it. Bada-bing, bada-boom, science expert confirmed.
If he said “No”, well… Kidnapping would be an appropriate term.
Stratt straightened the papers, then checked her watch. Ten minutes until the meeting started, thirty until Grace was to show up.
Most of them showed up at the same time; with bags under their eyes, messy hair, and an air of stress around them they filed in like zombies to take their seats. Even then, no one spoke, except for a few scattered, quiet “Hello”s as each individual walked in and sat down, none made any move to converse.
Even Yáo was obviously tense, his posture a bit too perfect, his face a little too impassive; Ilyukhina didn’t have a drink in her hand – an obvious sign something was up; Lokken’s hair was down for once, and she looked like she hadn’t slept; Hatch was still, his hands sat folded in front of him next to a calculator, unlike his usual self, always doing something ; Lamai looked solemn as ever, her clothes especially ruffled – hell, her hijab wasn’t even on properly. Only Dimitri seemed okay: he walked in, took the seat next to Stratt, and gave her a sad smile. She acknowledged him with a small nod and a fleeting smile.
Him and Grace were good friends, and he was about to have Grace’s life put in his hands. Stratt suppressed the shiver that ran up her spine, but no one seemed to notice. She scorned herself: it was a coward’s move, feeling squeamish about what she was about to do. Anyone should, of course; she was going to take a life, but she was doing it for humanity. One life for 8 billion was a trade she was more than willing to make.
Yeah, definitely not the AC.
Stratt checked her watch once more, only to see the secondhand mark 12:10. Just in time. She took in a deep breath, then began talking.
“I’m sure you all know why I’ve gathered you here,” she said to the room, and all eyes turned to her, “but I’ll recap: three days ago, a building at the Baikonur centre exploded because of an astrophage incident. Both our primary and secondary science specialists were killed. According to his diary, DuBois was there to test an edge-case in the astrophage generator systems.”
Ilyukhina let out a shaky breath and Yáo put a hand on her arm. She whispered something quietly that sounded like “He should have asked me,” and Yáo shook his head. Stratt paused for the exchange, but continued after Ilyukhina turned back to meet Stratt’s eyes.
“Doctor Lokken reported the issue first–” Stratt shuffled through the papers until she found the one with the yellow-highlighted title, then put it forward. Dimitri turned it to face him and skimmed it before passing it to Ilyukhina across from him. “--, and it was a rather simple one: a short in the system causes more Astrophage to be let into the chamber than is safe, causing an explosion.
“DuBois–” Stratt, once again, shifted through the papers to find DuBois’ diary, this one with a title in purple “--wanted to test what would happen in case it would (the generator should have melted and burned the surrounding area, but not caused a huge explosion).” Stratt folded her arms and leaned forward onto the table. “The issue lies in the storage of the astrophage. Either, when DuBois went to get a nanogram of Astrophage, the quartermaster gave him a milligram, or the container was simply labelled wrong.”
Hatch raised his hand from the desk as if he were a hesitant student asking a question. “The vials are checked four times before they are labelled, right? That’s what the Stratt’s Vat quartermaster said…”
Stratt nodded. “That’s why I lean, with Dr. Lokken’s report on the incident, toward the problem being a quartermaster’s issue, rather than an issue in measuring.”
The room fell into a contemplative silence for almost a whole minute. Stratt let them think.
Breaking the silence, Dimitri said, “We cannot delay launch without big risks. Orbit will decay, and a lot of energy is needed to boost ship.” He shook his head, then asked, “So what will we do ? We have no science expert.” He exhaled through his nose in a huff. “We should have trained three.” Nods around the table confirmed the sentiment.
Stratt took in a breath to calm her nerves, then took the paper with the red title from the pile. “We have a third option. Well,” she corrected herself, “two third options.” She raised her hands. “None are good,” she said to the relieved faces sitting around the table. They dropped their hopeful smiles.
“Who?” asked Yáo. Lokken wiped a tear from her eye, then asked the same question as well.
“Everyone working on the Hail Mary Project has been tested for the coma resistance gene. I also went over the list of candidates for the role of science specialist. It’s not pretty.” Stratt picked up the paper, then, reluctantly, read the first paragraph.
“Our second option is Andrea Cáceres, a Paraguayan distillery worker who is coma-resistant and has a bachelor’s degree in chemistry, with a minor in cellular biology. She volunteered, but was beaten by Doctors Dubois and Shapiro.”
Ilyukhina was the only one who dared speak next. She looked almost sick as she said, “And the first option?”
Stratt set the paper down, leaned back in her chair, then sighed. She said, slowly, just loud enough to be heard, “Doctor Grace is coma-resistant.”
“O bozhe,” Dimitri and Ilyukhina said in unison; Yáo leaned back in his chair, too, and, in a surprising breach of character, swore at the ceiling; Hatch and Lamai stared at Stratt blankly, the colour draining from their faces. Lokken put a hand on her mouth, then began to weep. As hard as she had tried to hide her feelings from her co-workers (apparently so much so that Grace hadn’t the faintest clue), it was obvious what she felt. Lokken then moved to bury her face in her hands.
“ We have to decide,” Yáo said, barely audible. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement of revelation.
“I know it will be a hard decision,” said Stratt. “You are being faced with the Trolley Problem. But–”
“No shit it will be hard,” said Dimitri. “You tell us we have to choose if our friend lives. You are putting his life in our hands. How can anyone decide!?”
“If it were entirely up to me,” she said, forcing a mournful look to convince everyone, “I’d choose Dr. Grace. He is the leading expert in astrophage, has a good deal of the training required to be an astronaut, and is an expert in the mission as a whole, being my, as he put it, ‘science lap dog’.”
Lamai bit her tongue. Then she asked, “Is it at all possible that Ms. Cáceres could climb to Dr. Grace’s level of expertise in such a short period of time?”
Stratt shook her head, but Lokken answered in her stead. “Stratt said it herself,” she said, “Grace is the leading expert in astrophage. There’s no way any lesson could teach her all of that in such little time.”
Hatch fiddled with his calculator as he said, “Then the decision makes itself.”
“We’re killing him,” Dimitri said.
“And what are the chances that we kill humanity if we send the lesser-trained person?” Yáo retorted (though it wasn’t in a harsh tone).
“Higher,” Stratt replied, matter-of-factly.
Lokken wiped her eyes. “So we send our friend out to die in order to save all of humanity.”
Stratt gave her a reassuring smile. “I tend to focus on the ‘save all of humanity’ part of it.”
“Jævel,” whispered Lokken.
Ilyukhina drummed her hands on the table, then said, “Will it be up to a vote?”
Stratt shrugged. “If you would prefer that. We just need to come to a decision.” She checked her watch. It read 12:23. “We have seven minutes to decide. I told Dr. Grace to show at 12:30. He doesn’t know what this meeting is about. Either he shows up and we tell him we started early, or we tell him that he is to die.”
“I cannot vote for someone’s death,” said Lamai, “no matter who.” Nods around the table echoed Lamai’s sentiment.
“Well, we must come to a consensus either way,” said Stratt. “Save a time machine or resurrection, we have two options for who to send. One has most of the training necessary, was the first scientist I went to when we got the astrophage sample way back when, and has been involved in the mission since the get-go. The second has little to no training, minimal deep knowledge of the mission, and is a huge gamble.”
Yáo sighed deeply, then, taking hold of Ilyukhina’s hand, said, “We can train Dr. Grace aboard the ship, and he will only be a scientist. Ms. Ilyukhina and I can deal with the astronaut stuff.” Stratt nodded, then looked at Ilyukhina.
Ilyukhina nodded, a sad but determined look on her face. “We can,” she repeated. Stratt turned to Dimitri.
Dimitri nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I know I will come to regret this,” he said, “But if it’s humanity or Grace…” Stratt nodded, then looked at Lokken.
New tears streamed down her face as she said, “Send him.”
Hatch didn’t meet Stratt’s eyes. He did pause his incessant typing on the calculator, though. “The decision makes itself,” he said quietly.
Lamai said nothing, but the look on her face was words enough.
“Then the decision is made,” said Stratt.
Lokken wiped her eyes; Yáo patted Ilyukhina’s shoulder. Then, someone knocked on the trailer door.
Shave and a haircut, ten cents…