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max--phillips · 8 months

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Genesis - Chapter 3

*Shows up 2 years and 3 months late with Starbucks* lmao

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Pairing: Ezra & gn!reader (I'll update this if it changes, I'm not 100% positive where their relationship is going to go at the moment)

Warnings: In line with the previous chapters, Dragonfly is processing a lot. Angst, loss, grief, self-doubt.

Summary: You assist Ezra in his search for cinder violet. A surprise storm rolls in. Ezra asks you some questions.

Words: 4.5k

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

You closed your eyes and focused on the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. You focused on the smell of the salt water and sea air. The feeling of the sand beneath your knees. You wanted to cry, but your body wouldn’t let you. You clutched the plaque to your chest. Words couldn’t describe the mixture of feelings overwhelming you.

You made it.

You heard sand crunching as Ezra approached you. It then stopped.

“I personally knew every last person on board that ship,” you said, quietly, eyes still closed. “All 79 of them. I knew their hopes and dreams for the future, their damn favorite color.”

“Sounds to me like you were a good leader, then,” Ezra said.

There was a moment of quiet. You chose not to respond to his comment. “Anthony. Susanna. Blair. Desmond.” You took a deep breath, and opened your eyes, looking over at Ezra. “Chiara. Stacey. Lily-Grace. Kristina. Marlene. Ariella. Mohammod. Harlow. Cheyanne.” You pulled the plaque away from your chest and looked at it. “Lleyton. Ayisha. Tahmina. Connah. Abida. Missy. Danielle. Safah. Poppie. Beverley.” You began to stand, slowly, still recounting names. “Luka. Zahid. Alejandro. Prince. Jena. Salahuddin. Harris. Brent. Milo. Neve.” You turned slightly towards the ocean, and began walking. “Lexi-Mae. Humzah. Rebecca. Waseem. Raisa. Tania. Mina. Cillian. Rick. Reya.” You approached where the sand was wet as the waves rolled in. “Kaydee. Fenton. Isabella. Rachel. Olaf. August. Kacey. Tahlia. Reanne. Andrew.” Ezra followed you, stopping next to you as you stood there, shoes getting wet. “Amy. Alex. Micheal. Matt. Sarah. Dale. Shyam. Adela. Catrin. Aviana. Mallory. Ronnie. Hashir. Felix. Zishan. Kobie. Brenden. Kelsea. Wiktor. Lula. Tyrese. Ayyan. Ricky. Akeel. Zakk. Zahia.”

You looked out at the horizon, dotted distantly with rocks and other islands. You looked at the plaque. Then, in one fluid motion punctuated with a grunt of effort, you threw the plaque as hard as you could into the ocean. It plunged into the water several yards away.

“I don’t know if you believe in such things, but if you do, I’m sure your team is looking to you from beyond with pride, knowing at least one of you got here,” Ezra offered.

“I don’t know, either,” you mumbled in response. “But I hope you’re right.”

You stood there for a few more long moments before Ezra turned and began walking towards the tree line behind you. You took a few more seconds to turn and follow suit. It felt like your consciousness stayed standing at the water, though, your movements almost not your own. Nothing felt real. Perhaps you, too, died on that ship and this was all some bizarre cryostasis dream your brain was having in a fit of activity before the end. Logically, you knew that wasn’t the case, but the grief and anxiety and confusion you were feeling were more than enough to override logical thought.

Your attention came back into focus as Ezra began speaking.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to get to work and not push our chances of getting caught in a storm. We’re looking for a bright purple flower, and where there’s one, there’s plenty more,” he said. “Let’s go look, shall we? Do mind any roots and vines across the ground, with all the ways this planet could kill you, I’d wager tripping does more prospectors in than anything.”

“Is that… a common profession? Prospector?” you asked, more than happy to momentarily change the subject.

“That depends on your origin,” Ezra answered. “If you’re originally from Central, or any of the core planets, really, no, it’s not common at all. Those folks tend to go into more well-educated fields and keep their feet planted firmly on a safe, habitable planet with a functioning government.”

You both reached the tree line, and Ezra began leading you into the brush, pushing some vegetation out of the way to begin clearing something of a path.

“But, if you’re from the Frontier, the Fringe, hell, even some of the tourist planets, it’s damn near your only option to get off whatever rock you were born on,” he continued. “Extremely high risk, no such thing as a safe job. So… my apologies for dragging you out of your nap and right into harm’s way,” he said, looking over his shoulder to you with an apologetic expression.

You weren’t yet sure how to respond to that, given how that “nap” ended up. You continued to follow Ezra, stepping over twisting roots, vines, and other growth.

“But, with high risk comes high reward,” Ezra said. “If you live long enough to turn in your bounty, it can be well worth the risk. ‘Course, so many succumb to the environments they prospect in, or other prospectors, not too terribly many actually make a return. Can’t tell you how many woefully unprepared kips I’ve seen get themselves killed on their first go because they thought they were stronger than nature, or couldn’t make a deal, even on the wrong end of a thrower.”

You both made it to a small clearing, and Ezra stopped for a moment to survey the surrounding trees. The canopy was thick, shading you from the sun, though not doing much to curb the oppressive humidity in the air. On top of that, every step you took seemed harder than the last. Maybe pushing yourself so soon after you woke up wasn’t a good idea. You knew that the planet was significantly denser than Earth, but you weren’t expecting the increased gravity to affect you this much. You wiped some sweat from your brow, looking around as well, taking in the alien plants. If dropped here with no other context, one might be forgiven for thinking this was the middle of a rainforest, but there was an… uncanny valley sort of feeling to it. It was definitely not familiar biology, though clearly not entirely dissimilar from what had evolved on Earth.

“Ah! That way. There’s a tree species this flower particularly likes, I’m willing to wager we’ll find a patch nearby,” Ezra said, pointing out of the clearing and beginning to walk that direction.

You continued to follow him. “So, I take it you’re one of the more successful ones,” you said, continuing your conversation.

Ezra chuckled a little. “I’d like to think so,” he responded. “Not without my fair share of challenges and loss, of course, but I’ve done alright for myself. Well enough I have a home of sorts on Central, nothing too fancy, but it’s enough.”

“You said most people from Central don’t prospect,” you pointed out.

“I am not from Central, Captain,” he said. “Depending on how you look at it, I simply got lucky.”

You wondered what he meant by “depending on how you look at it,” but chose not to pursue that. “If Central has safer jobs, why keep doing this?” you asked.

Ezra sighed. “You can take the man out of prospecting, but you can’t take prospecting out of the man, Dragonfly,” he answered. “Besides, those safe jobs lack the excitement this profession freely supplies. I’d get bored.”

You could certainly understand that. You could’ve much more easily taken a job with mission control, or stopped at test flights for the Genesis program, but no. That wasn’t enough. You had to be the face of it.

You two continued to walk for a while, you imagine having passed the tree Ezra had pointed out earlier some time ago. Thankfully, walking through the forest was requiring enough of your focus that your mind didn’t begin spiraling despite the quiet. It was hot and exhausting. After some time, though, you came to a large clearing with a pond of sorts in the middle, with some rock formations on the far side. Towards the other edge of the clearing, there was a patch of flowers.

“There! Perfect,” Ezra said, walking over towards the flowers with purpose. You followed. He began digging in his pockets, producing two bags, one that appeared to be empty, and another full of small tools. From the tool bag, he grabbed two pairs of tweezers.

“Now, this is delicate work,” Ezra started, handing one of the pair of tweezers to you. “As should be obvious, we have plenty of chances to get this right, but keep in mind these cinder violets are very valuable.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. So, to start, be careful picking them. That’s why you need work gloves. The stem on these flowers have sharp thorns,” Ezra explained, motioning for you to sit on the ground near him. You did so, letting out a sigh of relief as you did, thankful for any rest. You watched his movements closely as he reached forward and carefully picked one. You could see the thin, sharp thorns protruding seemingly randomly from its stem.

“Once they’re picked, you need to work quickly to get the stamen. There’s a reason we harvest them here rather than picking the flowers and taking them back to the ship,” he continued. He used the tweezers he was holding to point towards the center of the flower, where the sturdy purple petals were curled around what you assumed to be the stamen in question. “You gotta peel these back, but be careful of the stamen inside. If you accidentally break the stamen, or either of the individual parts, it’s worthless. Couldn’t tell you why, the folks this is valuable to end up burning them most of the time, but I’m not one to argue with a paying customer.”

You watched as he demonstrated what he just explained, carefully rolling back the petals to reveal the stamen inside. You immediately made the connection that it looked a lot like saffron threads, except they were a light purple color rather than red or orange. Ezra used the tweezers firmly at the base of the stamen, pinching the entire structure and removing it from the flower before carefully placing the piece in the empty bag he’d opened earlier.

“Just like that. Think you can handle it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” you responded.

So you got to work. You messed up the first flower you attempted, breaking one of the threads when you tried to roll back the petals, but you tried again and successfully extracted the stamen whole. Once you got a few under your belt, you seemed to get the hang of it, only accidentally breaking a few threads the entire time. As you worked, Ezra filled the air with chatter, thankfully not seeming to care if you responded or not.

“The petals curl inward like that to protect the stamen from the weather here,” he said. “The winds from the storms can be brutal, but the trees around are rooted deep enough they can usually withstand them, and break up the wind the further inland you go. Of course, there’s still some wind, and these flowers adapted to protect their reproduction in a fascinating way. The petals are stiff enough that only certain pollinators can get inside.”

“Pretty textbook evolution,” you commented.

Ezra made a noise of agreement. “There have been attempts to start permanent logging colonies on the planet because of how strong the wood in some of the tree species is,” he explained. “The incredible winds combined with the strong gravitational force pushed their evolution that way. Of course, all of them have failed.”

Ezra continued to talk about the planet, how lumber and these flowers were really the only things of value here, though some other plants are propagated off-world to be sold as house plants. He began telling some tangent story about said house plants, but you were happy to listen nonetheless. There would be moments of quiet, still, in which occasionally either you or Ezra would curse as one of you destroyed another stamen by accident. Ezra occasionally mumbled something about joints in his hand, or something about servos, though you didn’t think anything of it. Doing this sort of detailed work was starting to make your hand sore as well.

After what had to be a few hours, you and Ezra made a sizable dent in the patch of flowers you’d found, filling the bag about halfway with the prize he was after. Just as you were about to reach for another flower, you heard a rumble of thunder. The light that was coming in through the clearing began to dim, and you could hear rain begin to hit the leaves of the canopy, not quite yet filtering through.

“Shit,” Ezra said, looking around as he started to get up off the ground. “Nothing major, sometimes these storms pop up. But we’re too far from the ship to go back in this. Let’s take cover over in those rock formations, shall we?”

You nodded, getting up as well. Ezra grabbed the bag of cinder violet, and as the rain began to fall through the canopy, you both ran towards the pond and the rock formations on the other side of the clearing. Ezra led you under a large overhang, and you two watched as the rain intensified, thunder clapping occasionally overhead. He sighed deeply, shaking his head.

“Fair timing, I suppose. I was starting to think about calling it quits anyway. The amount we have should earn us…” he paused, humming in thought. “Maybe two or three points?”

“Points?” you asked.

“Ah, yes. It’s payment, I’m not sure how you’d value it. It’s enough for a single person to live off for maybe two months or so,” he said.

You balked at that. “Two months?” you asked.

“I told you it was valuable,” Ezra responded, smiling at you.

He turned and sat down again, back resting against the rock at the back of the overhang. You followed suit. It was quiet for a few moments as you watched the rain fall. Ezra, of course, was the one to break the quiet.

“Dragonfly, I’m sure you have a multitude of questions regarding the galaxy you now find yourself in, but I will admit, I have many of my own for you,” he said.

You sighed. “To be honest, I don’t know what to even ask yet, especially given you’re the only one I’ve met, and you’ve been with me the entire time I’ve been conscious,” you said. “Fire away.”

Ezra grinned like he’d just won a prize. “Very well. Do you mind if I start with a question about you, then?” he asked.

“Go for it,” you responded.

“How did you become captain of that handsome craft I encountered you on?” he asked.

“I wanted to save humanity,” you stated plainly. This was a bit of a softball question, one you’d answered many times at press conferences, news interviews, and presentations at various schools. “My entire life the world was crumbling around us. Every day was another record broken for hottest day, or highest sea level, or least polar ice. I never understood why no one was doing anything about it. I did try the activism route for a while, but I got disillusioned fast. It never really accomplished anything. It’s nearly impossible to make people care about something when they have incentive to ignore it. I caught wind of NASA’s Genesis program, went to test pilot school, worked my ass off… and here we are.” There was some bitterness in your tone at the end of your sentence. Here you were, indeed.

“Saving an entire planet is quite the lofty goal,” Ezra said.

You nodded. “It is. But it’s the right thing to do,” you said. “Was the right thing to do, I guess.” Doubt began to creep in. Was it? Knowing what you know now… was all of this worth it?

Ezra seemed to sense your shift in mood, and asked another question. “I must ask, was the cryostasis technology I found you in… pioneered for this mission?” he asked.

“More or less. I mean, people have been working on some form of it since… I think the bunk cryonics industry started in the 1970s,” you said. “Most of the time after that was spent thinking the entire concept would remain science fiction, but some group of scientists made a major breakthrough when I was a kid. NASA spent the next twenty odd years fine-tuning the technology to get us to Kepler-186.”

Ezra was quiet for a beat. “Cryostasis was deemed too dangerous to continue using decades ago,” he finally said. “Too much risk, side effects were too strong. Much more muscle atrophy and other deleterious effects caused by long term use. As far as that is concerned, Captain, you are very lucky.”

You looked over at him, your brow furrowed. “Other deleterious effects?” you asked.

“I’m no expert on the subject, but if I’m remembering correctly there were some concerns about the agents used to prevent harmful ice crystals from forming, nutrition uptake over time, issues with sleep and attentiveness after being taken out of stasis… we have much safer alternatives now,” Ezra explained. “Although use of any suspended animation is less frequent now that we have faster than light travel.”

“What alternatives are there?” you asked, genuine confusion in your voice. As far as you were aware, cryostasis was the only suspended animation technique that was really achievable. Anything else wouldn’t do enough to slow the body’s metabolism, and therefore aging, or required far too much energy to be plausible, or was simply fictional magic.

“Most true suspended animation relies on manipulation of spacetime,” Ezra said casually. The surprised expression on your face in response told Ezra that that statement was not casual at all to you. “It does take a considerable amount of energy, so it is not used frequently.”

“You can just… manipulate spacetime?” you asked

“Well, I’m sure it’s not as simple as that. Like I said, I’m no expert,” he answered. “I’m not entirely sure how they accomplish it. More commonly, though, is a state of induced torpor, which is more conducive to the length of trips we take with FTL.”

You nodded, absorbing this information.

It was quiet for a long moment, other than the rain falling and wind blowing through the trees. Ezra then began speaking, almost carefully choosing his words.

“In my childhood, my peers and I were told the same stories our parents were told of Earth. Toxic skies that would choke you to death in an instant, poison plants that could burn you with one touch, vicious creatures that could eat you whole. I believe that these began as cautionary tales many generations ago, but they morphed into this mythology of a cursed planet that would punish you for even thinking about visiting its surface,” he said. “I would be remiss not to ask you what Earth was truly like, even in your day.”

You considered his question, then sighed. “While exaggerated, the stories you heard weren’t… too far off,” you responded. Ezra looked at you, surprised. “I mean, the whole planet isn’t like that. Toxic skies… occasionally, as pollution got worse or wildfire smoke ruined air quality for days on end, yes. Not so bad you’d die if you had to go outside, though. Poison plants and vicious creatures, absolutely. There are plants that, if you get even a little bit of its sap on you, it gives you chemical burns or makes you itch for days on end. Some plants and fungi have lookalikes, where one is perfectly edible, and the other is so toxic that if you eat it you’ll be dead within a day. There are animals that can and will kill you given the chance, granted there aren’t many that could swallow you whole. Hippos probably could. Maybe blue whales, but they don’t eat prey as large as us.” You smiled sadly. “Still, it’s beautiful. Vast oceans, lush jungles, mountain ranges and rock formations… even the things we built, to some degree, are beautiful. Bridges, castles, skyscrapers. It’s…” You stopped as you realized you were speaking in present tense, and you gulped, willing away the tears that threatened to begin. “It was worth saving.”

Ezra’s surprise morphed into some cross between interest and concern as you spoke. “I… wish I could’ve seen it, as you did.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding a bit. “Me too.”

As another moment of quiet passed between you, you realized something. Surely humanity by itself couldn’t span an entire galaxy, right? And clearly, life was elsewhere in the galaxy…

“I just thought of a question,” you started.

“Please,” Ezra encouraged.

“Have we made first contact?” you asked.

“Have we made what?”

Well that’s not the response you were expecting.

“First contact,” you repeated. You then put on a bit of a voice, mocking the many documentaries about this topic from your original era. “Is there intelligent life beyond our solar system?”

Ezra looked at you, confused at first, then he seemed to remember how long you’d been asleep. “Yes.”

You weren’t sure whether to be excited or deflated with his response. “With that kind of reaction I imagine it’s commonplace.”

Ezra nodded. “As humanity fled Earth, it happened multiple times with multiple colonies concurrently,” he said. “Enough so that no one’s really sure who was first. Thankfully, other than the one time a group of us managed to establish an empire across the galaxy, everyone gets along relatively well. Well, on an official level, anyway. All bets are off once you’re in the Fringe, or the Frontier, or prospecting.”

You nodded again, and hummed in understanding. “I’m glad to hear it, I suppose. That was another thing that was still very much science fiction when I was on Earth,” you said.

“I have a feeling that will not be the last time you come across something matching that description, Captain,” he said. “You are always welcome to ask questions. I may not have all the answers, but I do a fair share of reading in my free time. I’ve picked up on some things, at least.”

“I appreciate it,” you said.

The rain began to lighten a bit, but not stop. The humidity had broken slightly, and the wind from the storm was making it a bit cooler where you were taking cover under this rock. For the moment, it was kind of nice. You wondered again if you would’ve made it this far if you had known. If you would’ve rather had your team alive for a short time on this planet’s surface, marking the mission’s technical success, or if they were better off having died painlessly in cryo. Part of you wanted to believe that if you had all made it, you would’ve proved Ezra wrong, and there would be a thriving colony on this planet’s surface in just a couple of years. But… like Ezra said earlier: people get themselves killed thinking they’re stronger than nature.

“We were going to name it Eden,” you blurted. “When we got settled, I mean. The colony, the planet, was going to be named Eden.” You looked over at Ezra. “I… suppose I don’t know if that means anything to you.”

“I believe I get the gist,” Ezra responded. “The Garden of Eden where humanity was supposedly started by some capricious deity.”

“In the Book of Genesis, the first book of the Bible, God takes six days to create existence, resting on the seventh. Adam and Eve, the first man and woman, and who are tasked with creating humanity, live in this garden God created as a paradise on Earth. It was plentiful, and they were allowed to eat from any tree in the garden except the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,” you said. “Of course, they eat from it anyway and get kicked out before they can eat from the tree of life, which would have granted them immortality.” You tilted your head back and forth for a moment in consideration. “There’s more to it than that, but that’s the condensed version. Wouldn’t be a story from a religion if the details weren’t hotly debated.”

“That is yet another thing that has not changed since your time,” Ezra responded. “I am sorry that this did not turn out to be the paradise you expected it to be.”

You sighed. “I don’t think anyone truly believed this would be a paradise,” you said. “Livable, yes. But a true paradise wouldn’t require us to work for our survival. We were prepared to start from truly nothing but the supplies we carted across 579 light years.” You paused and furrowed your brow. “We made a lot of assumptions. About the planet, about what would grow here, clearly about how the surface of the planet would be.” You didn’t want to admit that the entire program was done out of desperation. It had taken 25 years from the conception of the program to your launch date, yes, but an undertaking as huge as this… it likely would’ve benefited from more time to plan, to study the target planets, to truly understand what you were getting yourselves into. But the planet was dying, and humanity was dying with it. Someone needed to do something, and the sooner something was done, the sooner humanity could be saved.

You supposed it didn’t matter in the end.

You wondered what McCoy would say. He always balanced your optimism with caution and well-timed cynicism. You remembered what he said that night 10 days before launch, on the boat. I’m sick of worrying about what could go wrong… What if it does go wrong? You’d told him it wouldn’t. That you’d make new constellations.

You realized you were crying again. You forced yourself to take a deep breath. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Sorry,” you offered.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ezra assured you. “You’ve had an incredible amount of information dumped on you in a very short amount of time. If anyone here should be apologizing for anything, it’s me for waking you up.”

You shook your head. “No. I… given the choice between waking up to this and dying without knowing what went wrong, I would’ve chosen waking up every time.”

Ezra nodded slowly. “While I cannot begin to understand what you’re going through, I do understand that choice, at least,” he said.

Soon, the rain stopped, and the wind died down. Ezra moved to stand up, walking towards the edge of the structure you were under.

“I think now is as good a time as any to get back to the ship and head out,” Ezra said, turning back to where you were still sitting. He approached, and held a hand out to help you up.

You hesitated to reach out. Much like your hesitation at leaving the ship, you almost didn’t want to leave. You made it here. Did you deserve to make it any further? What about your crew? How in the world would you even move on from something like this?

You took Ezra’s hand, and hoisted yourself up off the ground.

“Alright. Where to from here?”

#prospect #ezra prospect #pedro pascal #ezra x reader #ezra (prospect)#tori says things #max says things #ezra #my fic #genesis

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