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Ryland isn't sure which scenario is better. That he got in the vehicle willingly or that he was coerced. Somehow both feel accurate. He knows he's definitely the one who physically put himself in that back seat. At the same time he knows that if he hadn't it would've likely ended with him in there anyway. Force didn’t seem like it was off the table for Eva Stratt. If it had truly been 100 percent his choice he would've been allowed to bring his bike home. He wouldn't have had his phone confiscated without the opportunity to make at least one phone call. The bike being a casualty of this situation is one thing. He can be fine with that. Even so, he hopes the box of belongings on the back doesn't go missing or get destroyed. Some of the contents are irreplaceable mementos from his students. A few he's kept for years at this point. The thought of them being ruined feels devastating enough.
The lack of outside communication has Ryland anxious and jumpy. Tom must be worried sick. The guilt eats at Ryland. Ryland practically begs to make a phone call or send out a message. Every time his request is denied. Even when he promises to not spill any details or offers to let Carl or Stratt listen in. They say it's too big of a risk. He wonders if they'd feel the same knowing it’s famous actor Tom Ryder he's trying to call. There's no way that Stratt with her infinite access to whatever knowledge she wants doesn’t know about him and Tom. That just means that she must not be concerned about who he tries to reach. There’s no option that would be allowed.
They’d sent someone to his apartment after the 1st day to grab some clothes for him and pick up toiletries. A clear sign that they were prepared to keep him here at least for some undisclosed amount of time. The samples arrived shortly after. He spent two days running through all types of experiments. Outside his enclosure, on the other side of a large window, Stratt and a collective of extremely serious looking men and women in uniforms and suits observed him. At least he got a few good jabs in while trying different things out. He doesn’t think anyone would blame him for feeling a bit scornful and showing it with a bit of sarcasm. If nothing else it helped him feel just a bit better about the situation. Apparently he is potentially expendable anyway, so what does it matter if he is a bit rude.
His mood goes right back downhill once he kills one of the dots. Sure, it gives Ryland the ability to analyze it and that is exciting. The results are what really do it. Water. They are almost entirely made of water. In a rare moment of anger he throws a bin. He’ll feel bad about it later. Maybe. In any other situation it might have been an overreaction. Between getting essentially kidnapped and yet again being proven wrong about his theories it also feels appropriate. So what if there’s a collection of world leaders who witness it? He almost completely forgot about them in that moment of fury.
They tried to dismiss him. The thought of the world going cold and desolate made him beg to help. He placed himself between the rock and the hard place. He could've gone home, instead he imagined Tom and Colt and Jody and worst of all his kids all having to suffer for something he might've been able to prevent. All those weights upon his shoulders, more than enough to keep him here. Inaction didn’t feel like an option. The decision had been rash. He hadn’t even considered bargaining for anything beyond the authorization to continue working.
Ryland was supposed to be on a plane to Australia five days ago.
He still hasn’t gotten his phone back.
He still hasn’t been permitted any outside communication.
Instead he’s in a lab trying to figure out what makes single-cell space blobs tick. At least it is a good distraction. Or it was until he hit a roadblock. Why did these guys go to Venus? He’s muttering to himself. A habit that he rarely notices himself doing most of the time. But if he’s going to talk to himself anyway, why not talk to someone instead. There’s the couple of agents that stand and pace the warehouse outside the lab enclosure. It's unclear if they are here to keep people out or keep him in. They come and go in shifts and don’t carry any active line of communication to himself. Carl has been here the entire time, a radio sitting next to him for Ryland to communicate anything he might need, including bathroom breaks. He never anticipated having to ask to go use the bathroom after leaving high school. Carl is a bit on the grumpy side. Gruff, but not unfriendly. More standoffish than anything. Right now, he is Ryland’s single option for a collaborator. With a bit of prodding, he gets Carl to work it out with him. Sometimes a different perspective is all it takes.
“Carl?” Ryland calls.
“What?” Carl sounds put-upon. He’s leaning back in a swivel chair with his feet up on the table by the window. It must be boring just sitting there all day watching Ryland. Ryland would sympathize if they were willing to concede to him a bit.
“Imagine you’re a single cell micro-organism in space,” Ryland prompts.
“I’m not doing that, stop bothering me,” Carl interrupts, setting his radio down on the table with an audible thud, even with two walls and a wide distance between them. Ryland doesn’t let it phase him.
“Well, you’re kind of my only option,” Ryland paces around the table over to a white board. He’s got scribbles all over it in multiple colors. He turns to face Carl and smirks. “Unless you wanna let me have that phone call?”
Call him petty for it, but it feels obligatory. The way Carl sighs feels like a reward. Ryland will take the little bit of joy that brings him gladly. A bandage to cover the open wound of dread that has been slowly bleeding this whole time. For a few minutes it stops the unease in his stomach again.
“Fine,” Carl removes his feet from the table in front of him and sits up straighter, radio back in hand.
“Why go to Venus when Mercury is right there?” Ryland queries. He fiddles with a dry erase marker while he continues walking around the lab.
“Maybe fresh air?” Carl suggests. Ryland tilts his head at the idea.
“Venus’ atmosphere is mostly CO2,” Ryland counters.
“Maybe that’s fresh air to them. You don’t know what these little space dots like,” Carl is right in a sense. They have no idea what these guys like. Ryland realizes that he’s done exactly what he called a guy a waste of carbon for. He decided to treat Astrophage as if it should follow what life on Earth does. These aren’t of Earth, however, and even if they align with the whole “life needs water” thing, that doesn’t mean they also need to follow any other rules of Earth life. He should’ve tried bouncing ideas off Carl sooner. Maybe he could’ve figured this out already.
Ryland takes a seat at a workbench. A monitor displays all sorts of labs around the world. At one time Ryland had wondered how many of those scientists were kidnapped into this project or if he was the only one. Can he even say he was kidnapped anymore, since he begged to be here? Is that what Stockholm syndrome is? He doesn’t know. There’s too much nuance to explore. His attention has almost been entirely eaten up by trying to figure out these tiny dots. The rest is consumed either by calling himself an idiot or by sickening worry. The dots are preferable to that. The notion that maybe if he figures out even just one monumental thing about them it'll be enough. Enough to help stop the sun from dimming. Enough that he'll feel okay going home.
Ryland shifts leaning slightly to one side as he squints at the screen, “Hey, Carl, do we have an expense account?”
“We don’t,” Carl responds dryly.
Ryland heaves an exaggerated sigh into the radio.
“But I do,” Carl calls back. Ryland looks over to see him. Carl’s usually stoic expression forms into a smile. Ryland returns it as he stands to leave the lab.
Carl takes him on a field trip to the hardware store to get supplies. As exciting as working with and experimenting on extraterrestrial life is, this might be the highlight of his time so far. If what they build works, it might top it, but getting out of that lab for a little bit feels good. Even if he’s being watched like a hawk. They still consider Ryland a flight risk apparently. To some extent it's smart. If he could manage it he’d try to use one of the register phones to drop a call to Tom. As it is, the eyes on him deter that idea entirely. He isn't foolish enough to think that they aren't all at least carrying some kind of less-lethal weapon concealed on their persons. At least a taser? Ryland doesn’t really want to find out first hand.
Yet, there's a part of Ryland that doubts.
Is he really so important? Is this all truly necessary? He's a school teacher for crying out loud.
They had said he was essentially expendable.
There’s just no way he could be this pivotal to figuring out the “Astrophage problem.”
If Ryland did make a break for it, would they actually expend the effort to chase him down? It’s not an experiment he wants to try out. He has no intent to try running anyway. He has more experiments to run. The “Carl Hypothesis” needs testing.
Ryland will take the little field trip as a reward for good behavior. Do a bit of goofing around. Convince Carl to sneak in some sour skittles and twizzlers. The best he can do is try to find ways to put a positive spin on all this. He needs it if he wants to even try to hold himself together. If he doesn’t he might have a breakdown. Well another different one at least. He apologized to the bin he threw a few days ago. This breakdown is likely to be less angry and more tearful.
They build the box with the fake Venus. It’s nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone that will feed Ryland’s enthusiasm. He’s back in the distraction of solving a problem. Now with a collaborator it really puts him back in his element. Underneath the stony exterior, Carl is actually quite clever and funny. Ryland finds himself actually having legitimate fun. The look of accomplishment on Carl’s face when the Astrophage move almost makes everything worth it. Almost. He’s not sure if anything will be enough to fully deafen the anxiety and dread that sits at the back of his mind. Thoughts of Tom and Colt pushed back but not fully covered up. That’s not his current problem though. Not a problem that he can feasibly do anything about anyway. The problem in front of him now is that his Astrophage escaped the slide. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He walks a couple paces. Then Carl; grumpy, sarcastic, beautiful, clever Carl comes up with the solution. Put the box in a bigger box. They both look over at the lab. Carl matches him with a hand clap.
After a lot of aluminum foil and tape. It works.
Ryland finds his three Astrophage and then one more.
He and Carl made a baby.
A phone, not his own, is placed into his hands with Stratt already on the line. After Ryland explains what they managed to do he is given one simple and strict instruction. Stay where he is. As if he has a choice. The phone is ripped away before he has an opportunity to try making any other calls. Carl tells him to start packing everything up, including his personal belongings.
They are moving him.
There is a fighter jet sitting in front of him. A guarantee that his things and his samples will follow behind him. A harness and a bottle of pills is shoved into his arms. Ryland cracks a joke about not having taken a pill from a stranger in a long time. Trying to make some levity in a situation that has him feeling fearful. Afraid of the unknown. He is trying his best not to let himself freak out. He has no idea where they are taking him. He knows from courses he had to take during the time of getting his teaching license that this is bad. He’s already been kidnapped, but he knows he’s close to home. It had taken maybe 20 minutes to get from the school to here. He hasn’t been given any opportunity to tell anyone anything. Ryland knows that going to a second location is one of the worst things any abductee could allow to happen. The fact that it involves a jet means it’s far away. At least here the location is close to home. He turns fully around to Carl. Two other agents stand behind him.
Ryland grips the items in his arms tighter, “Carl…”
“Get on the jet, Dr. Grace,” Carl’s expression is back to its usually stony appearance.
“One call that’s all I ask. One,” His voice trembles. If his hands weren’t occupied he’s certain they’d be shaking.
“I can’t do that,” Carl shifts, putting his hands in his trouser pockets.
“Where am I going?” Ryland asks. He just needs something, anything.
“I can’t tell you,” Carl is steadfast in his denial. He’s consistent in that way. Ryland feels disappointment bubble up at the rejection.
“Carl, please. Just one…” He pleads.
“Listen, Dr. Grace,” Carl interrupts.
For just a moment Carl actually looks like he sympathizes with him. That for one second he deliberated conceding and letting Ryland have that call. The second passes so quickly that Ryland wonders if he hallucinated it. That he was projecting. The last day and a half had gone so well with Carl that he had thought they could’ve been friends. He should’ve known better than to let that idea even start to take hold.
“You have two options here. Both of which end with you on that jet,” Carl stands up a bit straighter. The words are said in his normal cadence. A bit dry and serious but steady. Ryland doesn’t miss the threat buried in it. Ryland watches as the agents behind Carl both reach to the interior of their jackets. This feels just like with the car at the school. He can get on this jet by choice or he will find himself on it by force.
The decision is easy after that.
It’s hard to tell precisely but Ryland thinks it’s been a day and a half since he boarded the jet in California. They had a brief stop in Hawaii for refueling before they continued moving. He doesn’t remember the full trip. At some point the pill he took must have knocked him out. Which was definitely preferable after the pilot finished doing all sorts of crazy maneuvers.
Stratt meets him on the deck of the aircraft carrier as soon as he gets out of the jet. He isn’t given any time to stop and relax as she ushers him across the deck. She offers no pleasantries just asking him to explain how he bred astrophage. Doesn’t even tell him where exactly he is. He can tell it's not an American vessel by the flags flown on the tower and the uniforms worn by several of the crew. At this point he doubts he’ll be getting answers even if he asks. Ryland resigns himself to just following her request as she leads him.
Ryland expects to walk into some kind of dorm. Instead he’s met by a room with several tables in a “U” shape filled with people. Military, several scientists (some of whom he recognizes, unfortunately), and some people he assumes must be world leaders. He immediately turns to leave, Stratt blocks his path. She bulldozes past his muttering and introduces him to the room.
Ryland makes a bit of a fool of himself, but he can’t be forced to care right now. He’s tired and anxious and really would love to not be in this room right this second. It’s one thing to be stared at by a group of middle schoolers. They’re easy compared to this. He thought he was just figuring out how Astrophage worked. Research, that’s it. Apparently the baby he made with Carl is a lot more pivotal than he had considered. A perfect fuel source for an interstellar suicide mission.
After all of that Ryland is escorted to a dorm on the ship. He finally gets a moment to breathe. He sits on the bunk with his head in his hands, taking a few deep breaths. He lives on the boat now. So he was told. He tried to argue. Those arguments were pushed aside as if they meant nothing. If his math is correct it’s officially been almost a week and a half since he missed that flight to Australia. A week and a half of Tom wondering where Ryland has gone off to. He wonders if Tom thinks he got kidnapped or if he ran away. Ryland doesn’t know which is worse. Ryland doesn’t really even know what the truth is anymore. Which parts of this journey qualify as kidnapping? He’s got to shoulder at least a little of the blame for this situation. The guilt he's been keeping at bay finally settles like a stone in his stomach. Tom deserves so much better. He shouldn't have to be encumbered with distress because Ryland disappeared. Ryland knows Tom well enough to know Tom is probably doing everything in his power to find him. Ryland feels like a burden just thinking about it.
At least Colt probably won't be affected. They haven't spoken once since that day Ryland walked out. Colt probably doesn’t even know Ryland has been snatched up. Ryland wonders if he'll even care if he does find out.
Tears come easy to Ryland normally. He rarely feels embarrassed by them. Crying openly is not an issue for him. He only stifles tears occasionally. Somehow he has managed not to cry a single time since Stratt showed up at the school. He doesn't think it has anything to do with stifling them. He had been too focused on the problem at hand. Even if worry and dismay made his stomach feel queasy or guilt had made him second guess he hadn't given himself enough time to analyze them. Ryland had kept himself too busy.
Now enclosed in this tiny room he finally feels the sting behind his eyes before they actually become tears. No more distractions. No work to bury himself under. No one keeping tabs on him. Nothing to stop the ache in his heart. He feels himself start to fall apart. Ryland curls in on himself impossibly tighter, falling sideways onto the mat of his bunk. Arms wrapped around himself in some approximation of a hug that he wishes wasn't self-provided.
Someone is pounding on his door. Ryland unfurls himself from the exact spot he had curled up last night. Right away he feels tension in his jaw from clenching his teeth in his sleep. His eyes hurt. He can feel the start of a headache. The pounding continues a little more impatient sounding.
“Dr. Grace, are you awake?” Ryland thinks the voice might be familiar.. He opens the door to find the guy who matched him with the “whoomp there it is” quote. The man seems taken aback at the sight of Ryland. He’s sure he doesn’t look very good. He certainly doesn’t feel very good. Even without all the emotional turmoil he hasn’t been sleeping or eating all that well.
“Uh, good morning…?” Ryland lets the end of the word drag slightly.
“Ah, Dr. Li,” He holds up a duffle bag to Ryland. It looks just like the one he had been assured would follow behind him from the lab in California. “I was sent to drop this by and escort you to Stratt. Please freshen up and I’ll take you to her.”
Ryland takes the bag and shuts the door. All the clothes he had at the other lab are also here, but his options are limited. He will have to figure out how to do laundry soon. There’s three other bunks in this room, but no occupants yet. He changes quickly, pausing when he notices that the shirt he has is actually one of Tom’s. It’s not anything super wild, thankfully, just a black t-shirt with a light blue pocket. The real tell that it is Tom’s and not his own is that it has a v-neck instead of a crew. He puts it on regardless, taking a big inhale as he does. Ryland swears he can still smell Tom on it. He layers his fox cardigan over it. As he’s trying to find a fresh pair of socks he finds his phone in the bag. That’s odd, isn’t it? He powers it on, feeling hopeful. That hope is discarded quickly as he finds that he has no service. Useless. Ryland should’ve anticipated that.
Ryland shuts it back down, tossing it frustratedly back in his bag. He shoves the bag under his bunk. He adjusts his glasses back in place and goes to the door. It only took him maybe 10 minutes to change in full. Dr. Li stands to the side of his door. Ryland only gives half of his attention to Li and he escorts him. Along the way he points out the mess hall, laundry and the bathroom. Ryland makes sure to catalogue those. In his head he’s trying to figure out what comes next. Stratt had been able to contact him from this boat in theory. So there has to be a way to make and receive calls. It’s probably wi-fi based is his best guess. Some kind of satellite internet. In order to utilize that he’d need a password more than likely.
He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he nearly collides with Li’s back as he pauses to motion him into what is apparently the same meeting room he had been in the previous day. There’s far fewer people here today. Li and Stratt of course as well as a Russian man he has yet to be introduced to and Minister Voigt who had been quite ornery at the prospect of his sudden clearance to Project Hail Mary. The minister looks at Ryland before he leans over to Stratt, whispering something to her. She looks at Voigt with only a miniscule change in her expression. A very slight furrow of her brow before she returns to neutrality.
An iron-clad NDA is placed in front of him. He reads it twice, but knows he’s signing it regardless. He’s on a boat in the middle of the China Sea, what other options does he have?
Ryland knows why he apparently must live on the boat now. The energy Astrophage creates is so immense it could flatten a city easily once they start breeding more. That’s his job to create breeders and scale the production. He’s promised anything he could possibly need. He raises a brow at the promise. He supposes a phone call doesn’t qualify as a need.
His lab is more or less one of several pods draped in plastic sheeting. Ryland has neighbors on all sides. Some of them are new, even since three days ago. He keeps himself busy, because it's better than the alternative. He knows he probably looks a mess. He hasn’t been sleeping well at all, getting maybe just a few hours each night. On the second night he even slept at his work station instead of going to his bunk. His neck didn’t thank him for that at all. Still, he notices some of the strange looks he’s been receiving. Like some of his colleagues here recognize him. He assumes it’s still a carry-over from his outburst at the Unesco conference. It hadn’t been the way he intended to make a name for himself, but he can't go back and change anything about it now.
He looks up from his laptop as he hears Stratt from outside his enclosure, “Dr. Grace, with me, please.”
It’s said like a request. Ryland knows it's not.
He steps out, catching up to her and then keeping pace.
“It appears I have made a miscalculation, Dr. Grace,” Stratt comes to a stop in a secluded hallway.
“Ah- a miscalculation?” he twists his fingers into his cardigan.
“Yes, I did not properly factor in the distraction you might become if your disappearance became public knowledge,” she remarks. “Your boyfriend and brother have been doing interviews. It's too much for me to be able to suppress anymore. New members of the project are talking. We are going to remedy this now.”
They are close to his bunk room, which he now shares with two other occupants. His roommates are off working in their own respective areas at this time of day. Most people are in fact. The lab area is bustling but most side areas are devoid of life at this time of the morning. His brain briefly stops when it processes the word brother. Colt knows he is missing. Colt is trying to find him. Colt cares. He had expected Tom, but Colt is a surprise. Ryland had thought their relationship was too far gone. He wonders if she’s planning on sending him home. If that’s why he’s been brought here. He feels conflicted once more. He knows the work he’s doing is important. They are on borrowed time. He would understand if he’s become a problem and Stratt chose to eliminate him from the equation.
“Stratt, I can still do good work,” Ryland pleads. “Just give me one phone call or a message. Something. I’m sure everything will die down if you let me do that. Don’t send me away over this.”
“Dr. Grace, I am not sending you away,” Her tone is almost flat, but with a slight lilt that feels exasperated.
Ryland tilts his head to the left, “You’re not?”
“No, but I am giving you that phone call,” she pulls her phone out of her pocket and types in her passcode. “I sent a message ahead. You can’t say too much. The NDA you signed alone holds you to that.”
“Then what can I say?” He doesn’t want to mess this up.
What she tells him is impossibly little. She holds out her phone for him to take. The number is already ready to call. Ryland decides not to question it. She steps maybe two feet away, some kind of strange semblance of providing privacy. He is surprised to see Carl come around the corner and stand at the end of the hall. There’s no way she won’t hear the whole conversation. He can’t say a single wrong thing. Carl stops him from being able to run off. Ryland doesn’t know how he feels about him. He thinks he understands though.
He presses the call button. He leans on the wall to stop himself from bouncing on his feet nervously. Ryland can’t even begin to plan how Tom is going to react. The call is picked up after a single ring.
“Where is he?” Tom sounds angry. Ryland realizes then that he has no idea what kind of message Stratt had sent ahead. For all he knows it might have sounded like a ransom request or a threat. He hopes not, but Tom’s tone is undeniably dangerous.
“Tom?” Ryland utters quietly. His throat feels tight. He can feel tears starting to form. He begs himself to hold it together.
“Ryland, sweetheart,” Tom’s voice softens. “Oh my god.”
Ryland could melt right then and there. The last time they talked in any capacity had been only about two weeks ago. It feels like an eternity has passed since then.
“I can’t tell you a lot, but I need you to know I’m safe,” Ryland tries to keep his tone level. He pulls his glasses from his face and hooks them to his shirt.
“You gotta give me more than that, please,” Tom insists.
“I’m working on something extremely important. I can’t give you details,” Ryland looks over at Stratt, nervously. He thinks he is still on script. “I guess I’ve been drafted more or less.”
“Willingly?”
“I…” his voice cracks. He looks over at Stratt. She holds up a finger. He needs to wrap this up.
“So no, not willingly,” Tom picks up on the lack of response. Ryland is a rotten liar when it comes to actually having to do it. Lies of omission are a whole different thing. Faced with a straight forward question he struggles, normally. Add distress and dread on top and it’s only that much worse. “Were you coerced? Physically forced? Are you being threatened?”
“Tom, I don’t have much time. I promise you I’m safe. This is important work I’m doing,” Ryland speaks quickly, trying to get out everything he can. He runs his spare hand up into his hair and tugs a little. He’s trembling. Stratt reaches over hand open. “I love you.”
Right before he hands the phone back he hears Tom, “I love you, too.”
His hands are shaking so much he’s surprised he manages to not drop the phone as he hands it over. The call is still active. Stratt brings it up to her ear.
“Hello, Mr. Ryder,” She says. “This is Eva Stratt.”
Ryland can’t hear Tom’s half of the conversation even if he wanted to. He can hardly hear Stratt’s. Everything feels a bit fuzzy. He loses track of time for a moment, before Stratt grabs his attention.
“Go take a break, Dr. Grace,” she almost looks sympathetic. Almost. “You can return to your station when you feel ready.”
Ryland nods. Maybe this is why she chose here to have this conversation and the call that followed. His door is only a few paces away. He doesn’t lay down on his bunk. He can’t afford to lose the time to an unplanned nap. He sits on the floor with his back to his bunk. It’s uncomfortable, but the sensation is better than the pit in his stomach. He feels the loneliness curl inside him. He really wishes he could get a hug right now. There’s no one here he thinks he would ask to provide one. Ryland decides then. He will give himself 15 minutes to let whatever breakdown he can allow to happen before he gets back to work. He needs to compartmentalize. He craves the distraction the work provides. It also might finally let him feel less guilt at the prospect of going home. He takes a shuddering breath, lets the tears come as they typically do and places his head in his hands.