Chapter Text
V earth years later
Grace gathers his notes, tapping the bottom of his stack against his desk to get the unruly mess of papers to cooperate into one coordinated group. The chittering, chirping, and cacophony of his little (and some not so little) Eridian students slowly dwindled down as their respective parents began showing up to gather their children from Grace's class.
All left, until one Eridian remained. This isn't one of his students, they go to the equivalent of an Eridian college, about a decade or so to graduating. Grace's human name for them is Turquoise, or Quoi for short, named after the vibrant color of their thick carapace. Grace was brilliantly creative with these names.
Quoi is one of Grace's volunteers to keep the unruly younger generation in check since his class doubled in size in the last month, sort of like a teacher's aid back on Earth. Grace appreciates their help, along with the other Eridian volunteer, Amber (again, he's so creative with these names), a towering spindly Eridian that reminded Grace of those long legged spiders back on earth, but if they were instead made of the sun with how vibrantly yellow-orange their carapace was.
Thus brings Grace to the current conundrum of Quoi sulking in the corner of his classroom.
“It wasn't that bad.”
“Teacher Grace, with all due respect, you do not understand Eridian culture very well.”
“I think I can understand plenty, and from what I've heard from the adults and experts, this is a totally normal experience.”
“The pebbles wouldn't stop pointing it out and teasing for an hour.”
“It was like 15 earth minutes, Quoi.”
The Eridian rakes two claws over their carapace in humiliation, letting out a sorrowful low drone that would outcompete even the most dramatic renditions of a Shakespearean play. In a third claw, clutched to their side is a small pouch containing Quoi’s source of distress. He had produced crystals in the middle of class today subconsciously for all the class to see. They had since been destroyed and kept in the little bag.
“You don't understand, Teacher Grace. That is the last part of the courtship to be done in private. All that happened was Amber entered and–,” Quoi chokes on his notes and laments a sad whalesong once again.
“I would pat you on the back if I could Quoi.”
“Teacher Grace, would you know of any remedy, experience with other humans where you embarrassed yourself like I have? A solution to this conundrum?”
“Oh boy, what a loaded question,” Grace finds himself leaning onto his desk with one hand, “I never really got into the whole… permanently getting together kinda thing. My last relationship barely lasted a year and…”
And what? It was his last thread of anything that was a remotely romantic connection that went deeper than a friendship like the brief one he developed with Carl. He barely remembers Linda anymore, only that they were never compatible from the beginning, yet he had hoped. He doesn't have a lot of anything for a frame of reference besides his close bond with Rocky.
“Sorry bud, I'm not really good at the whole relationship department.”
Quoi grumbles as he curls into himself like a cat, upset at the world, at his situation until a knock at the xenonite glass startles both individuals.
It's Amber. They stand at the entrance, though who knows at this point for how long. Quoi would know better, being the creature with an ability to literally see through walls, but apparently they were so deep in their lamentation that Amber went unnoticed. The former jolts up, two of his limbs slipping underneath them from the speed of his ascent before they finally regain their balance. Quoi calls Amber's name in a delicate birdsong trill that sounds surprised, relieved, and terrified somehow all at once.
Amber says their greeting, calling Quoi's name in a just as similar tremor that told Grace that Amber was just as nervous.
Just like that, Grace went from being part of a conversation to a sudden spectator. All Grace is able to do is place down his papers and bring up his free hand to his face and comically bite at his fingernails like he's about to witness the climax of a romance film.
Amber approaches, slow, a little jittery, but steadily making their way towards Quoi. The blue Eridian remains silent, finding themselves cornered as they slouch and attempt to make themselves look smaller. Grace's heart is in his throat, aching empathetically for Quoi's turmoil and anxiety.
It takes only a couple seconds for the two to be a foot apart, but to the blue Eridian, it probably felt like a century. Silence follows after, the tension in their ammonia filled air somehow heavier than possible even with the double gravity.
Amber reaches for the opening of a satchel strapped around their carapace, pulling out a particularly thick looking xenonite container, half the size of the ones Rocky used to send Grace messages back then long ago in space. Amber fumbles it in their claws for a moment before a soft trill resonates from their body. So soft Grace almost didn't hear it.
“Trade?,” as Amber gestures for the little pouch containing Quoi's crystals with a nervous little laugh.
Quoi sputters and Grace sees another live demonstration of the crystalline growth emerging along the ventral seams of Quoi's overheating body. It grows in a way that doesn't follow the natural physics of crystalline structures on earth. It blooms like a flower, layered and iridescent on top of adopting the same color as Quoi's carapace. What is even more fascinating to Grace is the fact he can hear it making sounds even through the thick xenonite glass. Now with the absence of his rowdy students, he could hear a resonating melody that sounds awfully like a mix of Amber's song, but primarily Quoi's. Grace's mind quickly translates the messages coming from the crystal flower growths and it sounds like… dialogue.
After a moment, Grace realizes what it is and makes a little sound in the back of his throat and quickly gathers his items. He realizes quickly that it's not Quoi actively speaking right now (the Eridian in question is dead silent).
Grace tries to speed up putting his papers into his bag, trying his darndest to tune out Quoi's voice out of respect. What he is pointedly attempting to not hear in the moment of quiet were snippets of Quoi's internal dialogue, a series of songs and harmonies about their adoration for Amber. Something that he should definitely not be hearing right now. Grace suddenly understands why it's a private act. It is quite literally like having your heart and thoughts bared open.
“Thanks for the help today and congratulations to you two,” he calls out quickly as hefts his shoulder bag onto his person. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the two Eridians jolt, as if suddenly realizing that he was there during the whole exchange, but the rest of their reaction goes unnoticed as Grace heads for his home.
Grace sinks into his couch unceremoniously, wearing one of his stupid pun shirts and a pair of ratty sweatpants that have seen better days, after placing his cup of tea on the coffee table (tea table?). He absently rubs at the soft flesh underneath his sternum, today's earlier interaction with his volunteers reminded him of his unexpected and neutrally welcomed development of a new organ at the ripe age of… however old he is now with the headache of time dilation and whatnot.
It hasn't caused any issues since its discovery and much to Rocky's relief, the suppressors weren't needed either since he didn't produce a lick of anything crystal-like these last few years. Or anything for that matter.
The working theory is that since the manufactured food that the Eridians needed to make for him had to be synthesized out of something (it couldn't just come out of thin air, duh), part of the ingredients and components used were of Eridian origin. Microbes and whatnot that had similar enough structures or purpose that were used as substitutes for missing components of his diet. However, it has been inconclusive what exactly has caused the genesis of his new organ. It didn't seem like one specific cell or microbe was responsible for its synthesis, but a whole network of complicated and perhaps “sentient” group of microbes that worked together to form the organ.
Another thing to note was the structural difference between the Eridian version and the human version of his organ. It is made up of tissue cells that mirror those of his internal organs, much different to the make up of Eridian organs. It seemed to have adapted quite well to be suited for human physiology, as if following a pre-drawn blueprint but using different materials to create the same thing. So the theory suggests that if this organ were to grow on another being, such as that of an earth animal, it would adapt specifically to that organism's physiology. Not that they had any earth animals to test the theory on anyway.
His lack of production of anything may just be because he is the only human in Erid so his alien organ found no reason to be producing crystals to give to a potential mate.
Grace stares at the ceiling where a xenonite light fixture hangs and gives of warm light into his living room. He jolts as the fixture rattles at the sudden and very loud crack and crash of something solid colliding together somewhere in his home. Grace registers it as the front door opening and possibly splitting in two.
“Grace!”
Before Grace has the chance to stand and chastise his best friend for scaring the day lights out of him, he hears the fast skittering of many limbs running across his home floor. Grace gets about halfway up to standing before Rocky barrels into his legs. Painfully.
Grace falls back to the couch with a censored expletive, cradling his throbbing shins at the sudden semi-truck of a collision that he just experienced.
“Ow Rock. What’s the rush? Where's the fire?”
“Grace, there is no fire! There is life!” Rocky clasps two hands onto Grace's sleeves and begins dragging his best friend off the couch. Grace barely has the time to awkwardly balance himself on his legs in a slouched posture as Rocky begins earnestly manhandling him to the exit of his home.
“Rocky hold on! Let me stand up,” But Grace goes unheard as his friend manages to pass the threshold of his home and begins making it for the descending stairs. He is going to break his nose if he doesn’t get a good footing. Grace attempts to plant his socked feet onto the soil of the outdoors, “Rock stop!”
“Cannot stop, Grace is needed now!”
“Rock, I need my shoes!”
“No time!”
“At least tell me what's going on. More detail than ‘there is life’. Did we find another intelligent life form?”
Rocky finally stops on his tracks, giving Grace a moment to straighten himself out. Rocky tilts his carapace as if thinking. “Yes and no,” Rocky finally supplies.
“What??”
“Organism looked human but had… unrecognizable parts that are possibly not human. Grace is needed in the lab to distinguish.”
Looked human? Oh dear heavens. Like five limbs, two for ambulation and the other two for everything else? Complete with a set of eyes, mouth, and whatever mystery parts Rocky and the Eridians deemed were “possibly not human”? What are the chances of evolution creating identical beings from however many light-years away, on two completely different planets? Grace is expecting some sort of horrifying (rude) human-like creature that would activate the most primal part of his brain and see all parts of it that are decidedly not human-like in nature, deeming it a threat. Like those creepy, distorted human caricatures in dark spaces or horrible quality pictures that some of his Earth kiddos seem to be obsessed with (Seriously, they were too young for that stuff. Even he was scared of those pictures). But he’s jumping to conclusions here. Maybe it’s like those skinny green aliens from old movies, and they are in fact real. Not that he can confirm with Rocky or any of the Eridians about what colour the alien was to narrow down his rapid-fire questions.
“Where did you find this guy— gal? Creature? Person?”
“The organism’s spacecraft was orbiting Erid, unknown for how long. Very very very poorly made spacecraft, was severely damaged. Don’t know how the organism survived. One of the space crew noticed lettering on the side of the spacecraft when we pulled it into the station. Resembled human language. Talk more later, more moving legs now,” Rocky trills on as he drags Grace down the stairs.
Okay, definitely not heterogeneous evolution. Definitely human. Did earth not get the beetles back and they got so desperate to send another spacecraft into the void? No, Rocky had told him a while ago now that sol’s luminosity had returned to its original state. Was this someone who was sent in the period of time that the Hail Mary was still going through its travel to Tauceti and they were only now catching up? Maybe an independent body that sent their own spacecraft? Why would they do that?
Questions fly through Grace’s head as he finally exits his biodome and half-jogs his way through the tunnels towards the space elevator. He vaguely feels the sensation of deja vu as they ascend. It has been so long since he had ridden this elevator. The last time he did he was just barely past the cusp of not being malnourished, still skin and bones but healthy enough to start living in the biodome with semi-regular check up compared to the all hours of the day monitoring he received during his first year here. Even after all these years, he remembers the sterile look of his first little home on Erid (well, in space but attached to Erid by elevator anyway). He is surprised more than anything that they kept the quarantine room and lab in the space station, created quickly and efficiently with Rocky’s guidance once they were in range of communicating with Erid. Grace thinks he wouldn’t have survived if they weren’t able to build it on time. There was no way they had foresight to see that another human was going to be needing its facilities. After all, what are the chances of two damaged humans finding Erid as their safe haven? Apparently it was a non-zero chance.
Grace’s heart is in his throat as the elevator comes to a stop at the peak. The doors open and Grace is immediately greeted by the buzz of Eridians scuttling around, all of them he recognizes as his original urgent care team on his first arrival. They hum amongst themselves, creating a cacophony of songs that reminds Grace of a choir in a cathedral. Graces catches bits and pieces of their conversations regarding the human’s vitals, their nutritional needs and their injuries. Oh biscuits, they were injured. This is so weird, being on the saving end of the situation rather than being the one needing saving.
Grace keeps his greetings to his former urgent care team kind but at a minimum as he beelines his way around them with Rocky leading the way. Grace passes by a window that was installed long ago at his request to see Erid from space and does a double take. He still sees his beautiful home planet away from home planet, but now sees the spacecraft that Rocky described. Rocky was right, it was horrifyingly damaged, dented and fractured bits and pieces of metal that looked like it was welded together using scraps. Much more, it was hardly a spacecraft. If Grace didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed it looked more like a submarine. But that wouldn’t make any sense… Right? What is a submarine doing in space? There is a constructed tunnel carved into one end of the submarine-looking spacecraft, beside it, the unmistakable big bold latin letters: “SM-13”.
Grace’s heart plummets to his stomach. Definitely human made from Earth. It looked nothing short of disaster. He imagines how terrible of a condition its former occupant must have been in.
Grace barely registers the sharp trill of Rocky’s urgent call for him. He tears his eyes off the hunk of metal and catches up to Rocky with a light jog. Grace turns the corner and is greeted by the very familiar and not-very-missed quarantine room where he lived for months on end during his recovery. He stops at the barrier that keeps the quarantine room sterile, his hands pressing against the xenonite glass.
Grace’s eyes sting and a sob wrecks his throat. There was an unconscious man, lying on the bed.
He sees the machines created to support his life back then working over the figure lying in the bed that used to be Grace’s, like the familiar NG tube used to pump nutrient slurry into his guts. He was accompanied by the Eridian doctor he had gotten so familiar with during his stay here. They were wiping down the gruesome red red red from his face— endless red from this man’s body. Grace notices the asymmetry in the man’s limbs, a missing left arm severed just below the shoulder. Like it was ripped right off. Grace forms a fist and bites deep into his knuckles to suppress his sobs. Grace presses himself closer to the xenonite barrier as if he would be able to melt through it to run to this stranger’s side. He desperately wants to call out to this man, to tell him that he is safe now, to comfort and rub his hand on this man’s back, to embrace him until the horrors of his journey fades away to a distant memory.
Grace studies the man’s face blearily. He has a strong nose, high cheekbones, and stubble. His blood caked hair haloed around him like a crooked thorny crown. Odd growths of what looked like sharp teeth grew out the left side of his cheek, while painful looking boils dotted his face like constellations— The non-human parts that Rocky mentioned.
Yet despite that, this mysterious man was just so devastatingly human.