Chapter Text
Raf’s oxygen meter flickers red when it finally dips below 20%.
The date on the monitor reads back to him: it’s been three weeks, three days, and sixteen hours since he’s been separated from his team. The vast expanse of space is a giant void as he drifts aimlessly. This, Raf thinks, could very well be the worst way to die. His mech has been in power-saving mode for the past six hundred fifty-two hours to conserve air. Raf has been curled up in his cockpit for most of it. At best, he has about two days of breathing left. He tries not to think about the less savory scenarios. His meter beeps at him. It informs him his power is insufficient.
I know, Raf muses, but I’m starting to think that I’m not gonna need it.
His lips purse into a twisted scrunch. They flatten and work soundlessly. The only sound to comfort his slow descent into suffocation is the clinical beep from his meter. He draws his knees up to his chest, curling up into his seat. It’s cold this deep into space. It’s quiet. The familiar hum of his mech has gone silent and the warmth generated through the seat has long disappeared. Nonessential systems have been turned off to sustain his depleted power core to continue oxygen production. Raf wishes he could hear Jack or Miko. Every exhale comes as a misty cloud, fogging over his dulled glass interfaces.
Raf trembles and wishes he could solely blame the cold. He really wishes he could hear his crew right now. He can imagine Miko’s encouragement. Maybe a friendly punch to the shoulder and a: “Aw, c’mon Raf. You said you weren’t a baby, didn’t you? Just hold out a little longer – me and Jack will be here soon.” Just a glimpse of that familiar hot pink streak would send relief surging through him. Or if he looks real pitiful – “Don’t gimme that face, Esquivel. Just – come over here.” Then a hug. An embrace so secure and warm that Raf’d feel his bones creak and his fear melt away.
Jack is a little more difficult to imagine. As their unspoken leader, he’s stilted. More stern, at least. Miko will never admit that she looks up to him. Raf never thought he’d have to tell Jack how much he respects him because Jackson Darby is just the type to already understand without anyone having to say it. Maybe he’d lay a calloused palm over Raf’s shoulder and sit down next to him– close enough to lean against but far enough to remain tactful. “Don’t worry, Raf. We’d never let you down –our trio isn’t complete without you, you know? Don’t give up.” Then he’d tentatively ruffle Raf’s spiky hair, brief but easy.
If he could, he’d talk to himself to fill the empty atmosphere. If it didn’t use up valuable oxygen, he’d chatter to himself nonstop just to make sure that the quiet wasn't getting to him. Growing up in a house full of other people, Raf had always been more accustomed to sound. Then, once that was taken away with the second wave of Quintesson attacks, he became used to Jack and Miko’s easy bickering. When Raf had been freshly enrolled into the Academy, a part of him had been relieved. That factor of life remained familiar. Mama and Papa would’ve been glad that he wasn’t alone once they–
Beep. His thoughts pause. Raf gazes at the dash mounted up to his darkened console. Low fuel. Oxygen levels: 19%.
In all of his years killing Quints and surviving insane feats no human is expected to squirm out of, dying by oxygen deprivation is relatively tame. He had always thought he’d go out with a brilliant explosion, fighting the extraterrestrial creatures that threatened to steal Earth’s lifeblood. It’s the assumed death of any mech pilot – Jack, Miko and others. Raf remembers talking about it briefly with the other teams: Witwicky, Banes, Burns. Lennox too, before he became the very first pilot to ever retire alive. In this line of work, it’s common for pilots to die early – heroically or tragically depending on the viewpoint.
Raf is sixteen. There are some even younger than him that pilot. As far as he can remember, Sumdac is around fourteen. It doesn’t matter how old you are, as long as you’re compatible with your mech and have the right brainwaves to survive the spinal cord neural link.
At least he has a nice view. On Earth, the stars are dulled out by all the light and air pollution clogging the planet’s atmosphere. There are few places left that offer such a beautiful view. Violet hued spirals embedded with glittering specks of stars some distant billion lightyears away. Raf has seen many stars but he’s never gotten tired of their ever constant shine amongst darkness. The stars will remain, even after this war has ended and every creature on Earth has been swept away into oblivion. Some part of him finds it comforting that when he’s gone – when everything is gone, there will still be something out here. Maybe the thought of being insignificant would be frightening to another person. Raf thinks there’s a certain peace reserved with being nothing.
However, he doesn’t want to be nothing yet. No, he has much more to do. When Jack and Miko find him, he needs to tell Jack how much he admires him. He needs to tell Miko that he doesn’t actually hate it when she calls him small fry and kid. He needs to lie by their sides, listening to the back and forth bickering as the constellations turn overhead. He wants to fix his mech and polish his dutiful metal companion who has held steady all these years. He wants to feel warm again.
Beep, clicks the meter again. Low fuel. Oxygen levels: 18%
–
Raf’s SOS signals haven’t been answered yet.
How far out is he? Drifting aimlessly and unable to access his navigator, Raf just has to theorize. Surely someone has passed through whatever sector he’s in, right?
His memory is faint. He thinks he remembers the mission – the objective. Raf remembers the explosion – Jack's panicked hand reaching for him and just barely coming up short. Jack's always been a mellow person. With the sole exception of Miko who somehow riles him up more than anyone else, he never lets his calm exterior falter. He had explained to Raf once after they were marooned on a terrifying planet infested with Quints: “If I panic, everyone panics. You guys look to me to see how screwed we are and it's my job to make sure you know…” at that point, he had poked Raf's forehead, “...you're okay. And we are okay, by the way. We'll get out of this.” Jack had been right that time.
But Raf won’t forget Jack’s voice when he shouted Raf’s name. Never before had he heard something so desperate and crazed come from Jack of all people. It was almost guttural, that sound of horror as Raf was ripped away from them. If Miko hadn’t pulled him back from lunging after Raf, Jack would’ve absolutely been swept out and blasted halfway across the sector. Like Raf. And no matter how lonely he is or how much he wishes someone was here with him, Raf is forever thankful that Jack isn’t here with him. Miko had done the right thing. Raf knows he couldn’t live with himself if he knew it was his fault Jack was out here with him.
Raf tries really hard not to think about the blinking numbers on his dash. 15%. Low fuel. It’s the only lit thing in his cabin now, bathing his cockpit in an almost ethereal scarlet glow. Raf takes in a small, valuable breath and watches it mist up into a cloud of condensation. He has enough food and water stored with him to last years; it’s not too much of a concern. Besides, who knows if he’ll ever even get to use it? Two days. Probably less now that his oxygen tanks have gone down by two percent. It’s been three long weeks and Raf is starting to think that he’s not going to be found. Not for lack of trying – he knows Miko wouldn’t leave him if she knew he was still here. That Jack would even think about abandoning him at all. Space is endless and who even knows where he is? Raf doesn’t even know himself. It’s nice to hope that they’ll find him, but sometimes… things just don’t happen. Pilots die easily. People die easily.
Mama, Papa, Pilar, his little sisters…
Raf refuses to let himself linger on that. He can’t stop hoping – not until he finally runs out of air. Movie nights in between missions. Fist bumps and special handshakes. Falling asleep on someone’s shoulder – feeling their arm wrap securely around his side. Talking, laughing and being happy. If Raf lets himself give up here, he’ll never get those things again. He just has to hold out.
Think about something else. Don’t focus on how every single breath he takes is one inch closer to death.
When Raf was younger, he was interested in space. Pilar would’ve said that he was obsessed with it. His older sister loved to tease him about it but in the end, it was always her who was slipping him her allowance. “Go get one of your space magazines, alright?” She always insisted that she was too cool to hang out with her dorky younger brother, but Raf always knew better. She never complained when he excitedly spouted everything he had found during his research sessions. She pooled all the money she had to get Raf a shiny telescope for his 12th birthday. Raf had always believed aliens to be out there somewhere – though most people scoffed; nodded indulgently without listening. Pilar just smiled and prodded him into discussions – silly or otherwise.
“Aliens, Raf? If one ever shows up, you better catch it. I wanna see if they’ve got big eyes and green skin. ‘Take me to your leader’ and the whole schtick.”
“What if they’re like us, just a little different? Think about a person – but they’ve got six fingers. An extra head? No, no, Raf, really, I’m serious!”
“Maybe there are good aliens. I think we could be friends – the universe is a really, really big place. There are nice aliens out there somewhere.”
Statistically, she’d be right. Out of the infinite possibilities, within the reaches of this abyss, there must be at least one good alien. One that probably would’ve been as eager to make friends with her as she was. But that’s not what found Earth. And the Quintessons didn’t want anything to do with humans other than to crush them underfoot. Pilar deserved more than what she got, just like so many others. His oldest sister was sixteen when she died – Raf will soon be older than she ever got to be.
He wishes she’d been right, that time. Maybe in an alternate universe, Quintessons never found Earth and its solar system. Maybe something benevolent and nurturing cradled their planet in its arms and decided not to destroy the fragile beauty of their home..
–
A lot of his time is spent zoning out. After all, there’s not a lot he can do. Raf’s blinks grow longer and slower – he feels strangely disconnected from himself. It’s almost like an out of body experience, like this isn’t truly happening to him. Maybe this is happening to some other Rafael Esquivel and he just happens to share the same name as the unlucky sop. It’s dark. His eyes must be closed, since he doesn’t register that ever present crimson glow. It must be seared into the back of his eyelids at this point. How long has it been now? He can check. He just has to open his eyes. His clock is waiting.
Why is it so difficult?
His eyelids are pulled down by invisible weights. His body insists that he conserve his energy. His mind whispers that he should sleep forever. It’d be easy to slip away and let himself be swept out to the tide. Raf had read once that drowning was peaceful. Just a few panicked, painful moments of fear and agony before an odd sort of peace gently envelops you. That strange tranquility must be so quiet. Just a little bit longer in the cold and he’ll be okay…
–
Raf smacks himself.
It’s so sudden that he registers the burn before the sting of impact. He is not giving up. With great effort, Raf peels his eyes open and stares resolutely at his clock. Ten hours of air left. Just a little bit over a day. God help him, he refuses to let himself quit now. Not after this. Raf knows intrinsically that there’s something wrong with him now. Maybe the isolation is getting to him. Maybe it’s the frigid temperature. He’s so tired. If he had the power to spare, he’d administer a caffeine or adrenaline capsule through his spinal connection. But his mech is offline and there’s no way to get to the injection needles without directing his depleted power core to nonessential systems. He grits his teeth, unable to stand the silence.
“You’ve… had worse.” Raf tells himself. His voice is scratchy and near inaudible – and it burns when he speaks, but somehow it makes him feel stronger. A surge of determination lights through his chest and his heart feels like it beats twice as fast. Or it’s his cardiovascular system responding to the lack of oxygen. Raf doesn’t know but it keeps him awake and aware. He has to be. It terrifies him how easy it was to close his eyes and not open them again. It felt like curling up after a long day and resting his eyes for a moment. A long, permanent moment. He cannot allow himself to let that happen again. He has to live. He has to hold out. Jack and Miko. Warm hugs. Proud smiles. Come on, Raf. They’ll find him. They’re going to find him.
Low fuel. Oxygen levels: 5%.
He needs to keep himself awake. Think about something. Anything.
Raf isn’t actually sure if he’s had worse than this. Broken bones hurt. He’s had his fair share of close encounters with death. Almost losing his arm. Lying in the rubble as acidic venom slowly ate through his systems. Being augmented to handle the spinal cord neural link and dying then. CPR and a defibrillator was what brought him back from the brink. Medically, Raf was pronounced dead for one minute and two seconds. But that was physical – Raf knows physical pain intimately. The quiet solitude – the weeks of uncertainty and waiting. It’s grating on him, killing him slowly in a way he didn’t imagine himself to be going out.
“Brilliant explosion my ass.” Raf murmurs. It's not funny. It really, truthfully isn't. But he giggles anyway, half hysterical and half despairing. “I'm gonna die! Should I blow myself up first? I need– I need to get my explosion in.” His throat feels like it's splintering apart. Raf laughs until tears bead in the corners of his eyes. He tells himself it’s just because he’s that much of a comedian.
Raf spends time thinking, like he has for the past three weeks, four days, and however many hours he’s been marooned here. He’s getting sick of his oxygen meter beeping. He’s tired of the red glow and he’s missing Jack and Miko more than ever. It’s getting more and more likely that he is not getting saved. Nobody is coming for him. No, no, no. Just hold out hope, right?
Beep, the meter repeats. Raf reaches out and turns it off. The words must be seared into his brain at this point – low fuel. Without the light provided by the meter, his entire cockpit is plunged into darkness. Not even the stars can comfort him now. Raf knows the symptoms of oxygen deprivation. It’s one thing to read about them; it’s another to experience it himself. First, a shortness of breath. An increased respiratory rate. Maybe anxiety or a headache. Raf’s hands feel clammy and cold. Then cognitive decline or dizziness. If he’s extra lucky, he’ll even start feeling nauseous. Then lastly, cyanosis. Delirium. Slowed heart rate. Then…
Time stretches on forever. He’s floating in limbo. His heart feels like it’s going double time but his mind has never felt so sluggish. Raf can’t tell if he’s closed his eyes. He’s so tired…
A brilliant flash of blue light blinds him. It floods his cockpit in the most beautiful, celestial halo he has ever witnessed. Raf doesn’t believe it. Can’t believe it. Did Jack and Miko find him? Is he finally going home?
Raf stumbles out of his seat and peers up into the expanse of space. And… oh, god. Whatever it is, it’s not remotely human-made in the slightest. A ship– a genuine, honest to god space ship. It’s astronomically big – impossibly and amazingly massive. His stuttering brain is struggling to come up with something to aptly describe what he’s seeing. He has to be going insane. There cannot be any other explanation. Beam us up, Mr. Scott, Raf thinks deliriously.
A hatch opens near the bottom side of the ship and –
Something almost audaciously yellow floats out. After only having his oxygen meter and the stars to provide him light, that little spot of color almost feels like too much. Raf is still blinking spots out of his vision after essentially being flash banged by a building sized floodlight. As it drifts closer to him, Raf begins to realize that this thing is giant. It looks like a mech – but its anatomy is unlike any prototype, specialized model, or – or anything. And then it blinks at him. Blinks. Its hands articulate seamlessly as it reaches out to him. It’s like magic. Raf has never seen such an amazing work of machinery in his life and he’s a pilot. If anything, he’s the one who gets to see all the beautiful things the science department comes up with, but it just cannot compare remotely to this machine. And despite the fact that it is obviously not organic, the thing is strangely human in the way it emotes. It’s completely alien to Raf and somehow familiar.
Ha. Ridiculously, Pilar’s voice pops up into his head. Maybe there are good aliens. Luminous sky-blue eyes peer down at him, so extraordinarily big. I think we could be friends – the universe is a really, really big place. There are nice aliens out there somewhere. Raf’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears. That’s probably the oxygen deprivation. The creature, and it truly must be a creature because no human could possibly create something like this, wriggles its fingers at him in a greeting. He can’t exactly wave back to it, but it doesn’t seem to mind. His mind is boggled. Completely turned upside down and inside out. It’s waving at him.
Something warm envelops him. It’s beyond words, beyond any possible description Raf could ever provide. It’s just pure emotion and feeling, wrapped up in a sort of intense, invisible cloud surrounding the robotic creature. It goes farther than anything as rudimentary as language, culture, or anything of the sort. Just pure communication untampered by silly barriers like species or words. Careful and hopeful and worried and hellohellogreetingsI’mherehellohello. Raf feels like he’s been dipped in sunshine. That must be the closest possible thing to being so surrounded by something so unfamiliar, extrinsic, and foreign and yet – so unimaginably kind.
Raf draws in a breath that makes his head spin. Tries to accumulate all of his own clumsy thoughts and feelings and organize them into something readable. Helpme, Raf thinks so desperately that it doesn’t stop repeating in his brain. Helpmehelpmehelpmepleasepleaseplease. The creature twitches and ducks its head closer to his mech’s chestplate. Where the cockpit is – where Raf is. It nods, unbelievably. Raf doesn’t know if it means the same thing to the alien as it does to him, but he has no other choice but to go along with it. It grabs his mech’s still frame and presses it close to its own.
Waves of reassurance, not his own, roll over him, so loud but trying so hard to be quiet. It’s not the same as a Miko hug or Jack’s careful smile, but it’s something and Raf has been so, so alone. This could be a mistake. Raf could be actively being guided to his own doom. But if he dies, then he’ll die knowing he got to look this thing in the eye and it looked back.
Raf stares up at the ship he’s being ferried to and hopes against hope that Pilar was right.
–