Chapter Text
Fifteen-year-old Courtland Gentry sat at the table in the visitor room of the state prison, shaking with nerves. Slowly, the reality of his circumstances sank in. They would charge him with murder, and they would try him as an adult.
He had shot his abusive father.
He did it to protect his little brother, but nobody believed him. They called him a killer.
Finally, the guard opened the door, and his visitor walked in.
"Mr. Grace!" He wanted to get up, but he was shackled to the table.
"Hey, kid. Are you okay?"
Of course, he wasn't, but he put on a brave face and nodded. He just couldn't make eye contact with his old teacher.
It had been over a year since he'd last seen Mr. Grace. Now that he was in high school, he wasn't in Mr. Grace's science class anymore, but his little brother, Chance, was still Mr. Grace's student. That was likely how the teacher had learned of his situation.
"How's Chance?" Court asked.
"They put him into a foster family; you don't have to worry about him; he is fine. Just misses his big brother."
Mr. Grace made a move towards Court, to comfort the boy, but the guard in the corner cleared his throat and the teacher retracted his hand back.
"I talked to a lawyer. We will sort this out. I promise you."
"Really?" Court dared to look up.
"Sure! You're a good kid. You wouldn't have done something like that without a darn good reason!"
Court had believed him and had gotten his hopes up. Every week Mr. Grace would visit him; sometimes with the lawyer, but most of the time alone.
So the verdict came as a shock: life in prison for first-degree murder.
But Mr. Grace's visits never stopped. The teacher never stopped fighting for Court, filing appeals and pursuing every legal avenue possible. Not that it helped – they lost every time. Still, Court was grateful to have him in his corner.
Life was tough, and Court adjusted. Everything in prison was hard and mean, so he learned to be harder and meaner. His looks deceived most people, who took him for harmless – a thin, blond teen with a soft face. But he was a fighter. Say what you will about his father, but that bastard had taught his sons how to fight – to take on enemies bigger and stronger than themselves.
One day, Court made the mistake of letting his guard down. Another inmate took the opportunity to ambush him. Court fought for his life and drove them away. Even though he scored a win in this fight, he didn't get away unscathed. So he had to meet Mr. Grace with a big black eye and a split lip on this day.
"Oh gosh! Court, what happened?"
"The usual… Just another Tuesday."
"That looks nasty!"
"Yeah... you should see the other guy." He didn't dare meet Mr. Grace's eyes, fearing the disapproval he might see.
He had learned to do whatever was necessary to survive here, and he couldn't afford to care what Mr. Grace might think of it. But that didn't mean that he wasn't ashamed of what he was gradually becoming.
Eventually, Mr. Grace said, "Listen, I talked to the lawyer. He seems to have given up on your case. But I discussed it with the faculty of Grover Cleveland Middle School, and we started a letter-writing campaign to the governor… or maybe we could use social media to get eyes on your case."
"Mr. Grace, it's been nearly two years. You should stop. All you do is waste your time and your money… and your reputation. People think you're nuts. Why are you still trying to help me? I'm a lost cause!"
"No! You're a good kid, you deserve so much better! If you were free, you could become someone, make a change in the world…"
Court knew out there, on the prison floor, he had to be strong and stoic, because everyone would take advantage of the tiniest weakness he showed. But here, with Mr. Grace, he could allow himself a bit of vulnerability, so he let the tears he had held in for so long flow.
Yet, he still couldn't tell Mr. Grace that his weekly visits were the only thing that made his miserable life bearable. Mr. Grace might get the wrong impression… or the right one… and Court didn't know what would be worse.
Then one day, the visits just stopped.
At first, Court thought it was his fault, that he might have said something to offend Mr. Grace. But eventually he tried to contact the teacher and even the school to find out what had happened. He used all of his meager resources and all the favors he could cash in to get in touch with his brother, who told him that Mr. Grace had just… vanished from one day to the other.
"Kevin told me there were weird-looking government people who took him with them," his brother told him.
That worried Court. Could Mr. Grace have gotten into trouble because of him? Because he tried to help him?
His answer came several months later, three days after his seventeenth birthday. He sat in the common room, watching the news when he recognized Mr. Grace's face on the TV screen.
"... the crew of the Hail Mary, Commander Yáo Li-Jie, Olesya Ilyukhina and Dr Ryland Grace, have been sent from the Baikonur Cosmodrome to the ship and are preparing at this moment for the start tomorrow. Martin, our correspondent on the ground, has more information."
The picture changed to a man in a long coat in front of a fence with a microphone in hand.
"Martin, can you tell us what you know about Project Hail Mary?"
"The Hail Mary, a spaceship that has been assembled in orbit in the last few weeks, will start tomorrow to the star called Tau Ceti to find a solution to the astrophage problem. The journey there will take approximately thirteen years, during which the crew will be kept in an induced coma."
The screen changed again to a picture of the three astronauts. Court found it odd that Mr. Grace stood off to the side, as if he didn't belong among them.
"Once they arrive, they can study Tau Ceti and send their findings back with probes."
Another screen showed an aircraft or something like that; Court couldn't care less, he felt sick.
"What will happen to these brave people who volunteered for this mission, Martin?"
"Unfortunately, they will have no way to return. They will remain at Tau Ceti and end their lives by a method of their choosing."
One of the inmates threw something at the TV and heated shouting erupted, but Court had stopped listening anyway.
Court would never see Mr. Grace again.
Suicide mission… they would be sent to a star 11.9 light-years away without a return ticket. Save humanity and die.
No wonder Mr. Grace had forgotten about him; there were bigger things demanding his attention… Still, Court couldn't help but feel hurt that the teacher didn't even consider him important enough to tell him in person or even say goodbye.
Maybe he had been incorrect the whole time. Maybe he wasn't as important to Mr. Grace as the teacher was to him.
This realization hurt.
After that, Court did what he had to do to survive, and it stayed that way until Donald Fitzroy showed up to recruit him for a secret unit of the CIA. He gave Court a choice: die in prison or live a life of risk and adventure in the field, serving his country.
Twenty-three-year-old Courtland Gentry took the offer without a second thought.
–»✪«–
Forty-three-year-old Courtland Gentry was tired. He had seen too much; twenty years on the job had disillusioned him, and even though he was addicted to the thrill, he needed a break.
The world had grown colder and darker with each passing year – not only in its weather but also in the hearts of its people. Nowadays, everyone looked out for themselves, with no regard for anyone else.
Court pulled his coat closer around his body as he walked up to the CIA building that housed Donald Fitzroy's office. It had been a while since he'd last been here. Usually, Fitz would send his assignments via email or over the phone, but today, he insisted Court show up in person.
After a quick knock, Court entered his handler's office.
"Hey, Fitz! Whatcha got for me?"
Neither of them cared much for pleasantries; they both saw them as a waste of time, and Court was glad they agreed on that.
"Ah, Court. Sit down." Donald Fitzroy pointed at the chair in front of his desk.
"Wow, it's one of those assignments?" Court said as he followed the instructions. The last few times Fitz had him sit down the missions had turned out messy.
"Not exactly… But it is pretty unusual for you. You'll be assigned to Eva Stratt as personal protection detail."
"Who's that? I've got the feeling I heard that name somewhere before."
"You and the entire world! She was the head of the Petrova Task Force!"
Court sat straight up.
"Petrova Task Force? You mean the Hail Mary Project?"
"Exactly that."
Making a quick calculation in his head, Court looked down at his hands… It's been twenty-seven years.
"The probes have returned?"
Could it be? Could Mr. Grace have sent them a solution to the astrophage problem?
"Not exactly… the astronomers who kept looking for the return of the probes found that a much larger object is approaching Earth."
"And you want me to protect Eva Stratt from whatever is out there in space? Who do you think I am? Luke Skywalker?"
"Of course not! Don't be ridiculous. No, the astronomers have identified the object as the Hail Mary."
Suddenly, Court felt as if the floor under him had vanished and he'd been plunged into ice-cold water.
The Hail Mary had returned. That should have been impossible!
How?
Fitz went on without even noticing Court's inner turmoil. "They made radio contact earlier this morning and, indeed, one of the crew was still alive: Science specialist Ryland Grace."
"Mr. Grace is alive?"
"You knew him?"
"God, Fitz, you knew my file by heart before you destroyed it! You know he tried to get me out of prison before they shot him into space!"
"Sorry, my boy, I just wasn't so sure if you remembered him."
"Of course I do!"
The look he gave Fitz made it unmistakably clear that, for Court, the subject was closed.
"Listen, this is a pretty simple job; all you have to do is pick Grace up at the spaceport and deliver him to Stratt."
"Why me, Fitz?"
"I don't know. She requested you specifically, and Eva Stratt gets what she wants. She still has a lot of friends in influential positions."
Eventually, Court shrugged. "Sounds like a pretty straightforward affair."
"Don't get your hopes up just yet, kid. The Sons of Providence are on the move, and those fanatics are going to do everything they can to sabotage Grace's mission."
"You mean those nutters who want humanity to go extinct? To cleanse the planet?" Court moaned. "Great!"
"Don't underestimate them. They have powerful and rich benefactors, and their numbers are growing!"
"Don't remind me! I'm not making this mistake again. What's our timeline?"
"Grace will touch down in two weeks."
"I'll be ready." Court got up. "I'll send you the list of equipment I'll require."
"Take care out there, son."
Not liking the knowing look on Fitz's face, Court said, "I thought you said, It'll be a pretty simple job!"
"I'm not talking about the mission, you know that."
With a curt nod, Court left.
"See you around, Fitz."