Chapter Text
“How sick, question?”
I can’t tell him.
“I think I–” No, I need to tell him, but I can’t just blurt it out. I need to be sensitive.
“I think it’s ARS.”
Oh my god, you idiot. I look up at him. I feel off-balance. He looks like he’s wiggling in place, but I think he’s just standing there.
“What is ARS, question?” He sounds nervous. There’s an uneasiness to his tone marked by a warbling sound that’s not usually so prominent.
It takes me a while to work up the courage to tell him. He doesn’t deserve this. We were just talking about Erid a few hours ago. He should be excited to go home and save his planet. He should be allowed to relax.
“Acute radiation syndrome. Like radiation sickness?” My voice raises at the end in a question. It’s useless, though; he knows what radiation sickness is. I explained it in depth a long time ago.
The words were hanging in the air between us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rocky look so rock-like.
“How do you know, question?”
I swallow again. It’s a science question. I’m good at science questions.
“I was outside for twenty-two minutes. When I was out there, the radiation readings were steadily increasing, but they were still within a range that should have been fine, but that was only my suit’s monitor. The ship’s reading was higher, which tells me that there was a discrepancy between my suit in the ship…” I press the palms of my hands deep into my temples, trying to push away some of the pain to no avail. “While I was out there, I also saw a flash of light. It could have been my imagination, but it lines up with my hypothesis that there was a GCR flux and the light I saw was a cosmic ray visual phenomenon. That would mean that…”
“You are sick. Like crew. Will you die too, question?”
Can Eridians cry? I think Rocky is crying. There are no tears, but I can tell.
I can’t think of a better answer, “I don’t know.”
I can feel tears welling up in my own eyes now. I really don’t want to die. I blink them free, trying to focus before I get too sick to speak. Too sick to help.
“How do we fix, question?”
“I’m not a doctor, Rocky– I don’t–” Wait, no. I can figure this out.
I grab another laptop from a nearby surface. There has to be a way to treat this, or at the very least increase my chances of survival. I push away the assaults on my senses—the headache, the taste of metal in my mouth, the tears, the nausea—and squint at the screen.
This ship should have radiomitigators, right?
“Computer? Do you have radiomitigators?” My voice is shaking, and tears are streaming down my face, but I don’t think I’m sobbing. I sag slightly when a small paper cup is put right in front of me, housing two pills. I don’t recognize them, but I swallow them immediately regardless.
Then I threw up.
God, humans really are gross.
I curled up in a ball immediately, shocked by my own body’s rejection of itself.
“Grace!” Rocky yells, bouncing from side to side in his atmosphere.
“I’m f–” I am cut off as my body is wracked with chills before my stomach clenches again. I had lifted the collar of my shirt just in time, similar to when I experienced 0G for the first time.
This is disgusting.
The metal arms were reaching for me now, but I was shoving them away. I’m really not in the mood to be grabbed and pushed around right now.
“What is happening, question?” Rocky’s voice is high-pitched and loud.
I slump against, well, whatever the arms are trying to push me against. My skin feels hot and cold at the same time. That fun little combination probably means I’m running a fever.
Another wave hits me. I twist to the side, somehow making it into a bag that was thrust in front of my face before everything comes back up again.
So much for the pills. In hindsight, it was pretty optimistic, but it would have been nice.
I try to shove the arms away again. This was all starting to feel like way too much at once.
“Stop pushing arms away,” Rocky snaps, “They help you.”
How can they be helping me when they won't let me try to fix this mess?
“Rocky, I’m sorry–” I choke out, “You can leave if you want. You shouldn’t have to watch this.”
“No. I'm not leaving. Leaving change nothing for me. I help you.”
Oh yeah. He can hear me from anywhere on this ship. Even if he wanted to, he can’t escape this. I can at least close my eyes when things get scary. He can’t turn off his ‘ears’.
All of a sudden, one of the arms retracts and reappears with a small syringe and IV kit attached to…something. I can’t really tell what’s happening around me anymore.
“Sit still.” Rocky scolds as I keep trying to break free, no matter if my clumsy efforts are useless.
“I am sitting.”
“More still. Sit more still.”
I feel a cold swipe along my forearm before there is a sharp prick. I don’t even flinch. It’s honestly a nice distraction from everything else that feels wrong with me. I watch as more wires are stuck to my body for various purposes that I can’t be bothered to keep track of.
I think the arms are starting to realize what’s wrong with me.
That’s nice. They should be able to fix this, right?
I feel the cold fluid ease its way through my veins. It’s a sharp contrast to the heat building up beneath my skin. My head still feels like it's packed full of hot, wet sand though.
“How do I help you, question?”
I pinch my face, trying to think. “I don’t…I think–” I’m cut off again as a gag tears its way from my mouth. This time, nothing comes up. My stomach is empty, but that almost makes it worse.
“How do I fix you, question?”
“–can’t.” I choke out between breaths. When I peel my eyes open again, Rocky is motionless again.
I didn’t know what else to say. I’m not a doctor. Well, I am, but not that kind of doctor.
“If you damaged, I can fix. I fix things. I fix you. You get better.”
“Rocky…”
I think I’m lying down now.
“Tell me how to fix.”
“I can’t tell you ‘how to fix’ because I don’t know how, but I can tell you what’s probably going to happen. Okay?” I’m really fighting to keep my voice steady.
“Yes. Tell.”
“ARS happens in stages. First stage is what’s happening now,” I let out a groan as my stomach clenches again to no avail. “Nausea, vomiting, fever, headache. All happening now. Not fun. Very not fun.”
“Bad bad bad.”
I cross my arms across my chest, hugging myself as hard as I can to try and distract myself from how uncomfortable my own skin feels right now. “After, I’ll probably get better–”
“Crew got better, too. Then all still die.” Rocky starts to rock back and forth.
God, I’m going to die. Like, actually die.
I hug myself tighter, my whole body now tense from the effort. I’m tired, but relaxing hurts too. “I will seem better, but I will get worse again. I’m going to get stupid. My fever will probably get worse, and I’ll probably forget where I am. I’m sorry.”
“Already stupid.”
I huff out a pathetic excuse for a laugh. I feel clammy and gross. So gross. What I wouldn’t give for a real bath instead of a sink right now.
“You are shaking.”
Huh. I guess I am.
I hum in acknowledgement, clenching and unclenching my fist repeatedly. The metal arms are moving more, but I can’t tell what they are doing. I blink up at the ceiling, feeling heavy.
“If I get confused…” I pause, trying to find the right words, “Can you do me a favor?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t tell me I’m in space.” I press my lips into a line, not looking at Rocky while I make the request.
I still haven’t told him about how I really ended up on this ship.
There is a pause before Rocky speaks up again. “Okay. I won’t tell.”
“Thank you.”