Chapter Text
The enormous rocket towered stories into the air, lit only by the dim reflection of the waxing moon streaming through fortified windows. The engines gleamed, waiting to be filled with the hundreds of thousands of gallons of liquid oxygen and kerosene that would propel humanity’s last chance into the sky. The cockpit, carefully designed for its 12 passengers, sat empty in the rocket’s heart. The vast, concrete chamber that had, just a few hours ago, been bustling with the activity of dozens of workers making final adjustments, was now completely vacant. Professor Brand’s footsteps echoed on the concrete pavement as he treaded around the circular walkway, lost in thought.
“Professor?” a voice called from behind him. Startled, the professor whipped around.
“Oh, Dr. Mann. I haven’t seen you here before,” said Professor Brand, his heart retreating back into his chest.
“I haven’t been here before,” Dr. Mann replied, taking a step towards the professor. “Couldn’t sleep?”
The professor nodded. “Oh, just…last minute jitters.”
“It will work out, Professor,” Dr. Mann said, standing up straighter. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Dr. Mann and the professor stood in silence for a beat.
Mann broke the silence. “Come here often?”
“When I need to think,” the professor responded, resuming his revolution around the chamber. “Some say that going in circles gets you nowhere. But I’ve always believed that taking a new look at an already-traced path can get you right where you need to go.”
“I see the old Professor Brand is back,” chuckled Mann. “Can’t seem to say anything straight.”
The professor smiled slightly. “Perhaps it only seems confusing because you haven’t taken a look at it from the right perspective.”
“Perspective, yeah,” yawned Mann absentmindedly.
“You should get some sleep,” Professor Brand said, stopping in his tracks and turning to Dr. Mann. “Big day tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh,” said Mann, suppressing another yawn.
The professor watched as Mann retreated back to the crew dormitories. “Do not go gentle into that good night,” he muttered. If Mann had heard him, he didn’t respond.
Tomorrow, the rocket would launch, carrying its 12 passengers into the cosmos, the start of humanity’s greatest feat – its own salvation.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day.
So many things had to go right. The three carefully engineered rocket boosters could ignite at the wrong time, causing the rocket to never break escape velocity. The payload capsule could fail to dock with The Revival, the ringlike spaceship waiting in low Earth orbit. The rangers could fail to detach once the crew was through the wormhole, leaving them stranded billions of light-years away in a spaceship only designed for a one-way journey. The slingshot around Mars could–
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The professor stopped. He had been pacing again.
He had also lied to Dr. Mann.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Dr. Brand carefully traced a hand over the engraved letters of each Lazarus astronaut’s name on the bronze memorial plaque. Dr Hale. Dr Lee. Dr Miller. Dr Mann. The twelve bravest human beings on Earth–soon to be off of it. He did not envy their journey.
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Professor Brand took one last look at the rocket as he left the cylindrical room, on their last night together after so many sleepless ones spent in each other’s company. The mission had been the professor’s life’s work, and it was imperative for it to work for humanity to be saved – but even more so, to have the slightest chance of gaining his daughter’s forgiveness for what he’d had to do. The lie he’d had to tell, saving humanity by misconstruing its own demise. What if it was all for nothing?
The professor forced the thought out of his head. “Forgive me, Amelia,” he whispered as the chamber disappeared out of sight.
Do not go gentle into that good night.