Chapter Text
The distant sounds of Grace’s heartbeat was the only thing that kept Rocky sane now. Day by day, that sound was a reminder that his friend was alive. Alive. Despite everything, Grace was alive.
“And- and Rocky’s friends didn’t listen! Ran off, they did! Yelling and it only made creature get closer! Friends would of died if it hadn’t been young! Too young, too stupid, not know how to hunt. Just want to play with friends.” Rocky let out an amused warble as he ran one xenonite-suit covered claw across Grace’s hand.
‘Oof, must have been pretty scary, bud.’
“No, no, Grace miss the point,” Rocky whistled, rubbing his carapace against Grace’s hand now. The pulse oximeter rubbing unpleasantly against him. Oh, how he wished he could just tear that thing apart. “Point is Rocky is always right. Always.”
‘sure, bud. Rocky is always right, totally.’
“Yes, yes, yes, Rocky always right! Grace not stupid for once.”
‘I just wonder if…’
Rocky stopped his rubbing, stomping his foot. “No, no wondering. Stop.”
‘…I was just wondering if Adrian would always agree.’
Rocky lightly swatted the hand away, as Grace’s laughter filled the air around him. “Done with this droppings.” Before he even thought about it, the curse came out censored. An angry little squeak escaping him as he climbed his way up to the captain’s seat. “Check on distance to Erid, behave,” He called down.
‘when have I ever misbehaved?’ Grace’s voice shot back. But no footsteps or sounds of the blankets swishing followed. Good, maybe for once Grace was listening.
With an irritated huff, Rocky climbed into his makeshift seat and checked the distance with his ‘seeing-eye-gun’ as Grace called it. Six earth days out. Not long now, not long until he could see Adrian, fix the food issue for Grace.
In fact, he should be in range to communicate with them. Well, he is in range. And has been for about two earth days. But, well, Erid had decided to be late on their replies.
“Testing, testing, testing, question?” He said into the microphone. “This is Rocky, head engineer of first-ship-to-the-stars. Fifth generation of Clan of Windy Tunnels. Anyone on Erid hear, question? Or Erid turn off all hearing auricles?”
He laughed at his own joke as he waited for a reply. An answer would come. His home couldn’t have changed that much. Not in only 46 earth years.
Well, things could have changed, but not massive things. Not society wide! Just in his personal life.
Rocky tried again, rocking back and forth lightly. “Rocky is aboard alien vessel. Space elevator must be changed to fit Alien Vessel, named Hail Mary. Erid answer soon.”
Rocky pulled away, and clinked off the microphone. If it was up to him, he’d keep it on at all times, but humans! Humans are very weird about their privacy. Eating is done in public but conversations, sleeping, and many other things are only done in private. What weird leaky space blobs, humans were.
‘Has Erid answered yet?’ He heard Grace asked.
“No, be patient, Grace. Will answer soon.”
‘Are you sure? I don’t know—‘
“Grace, stop,” Rocky interrupted, climbing back out of the chair and headed towards the ladder down. “Erid will answer and Grace will be fine.”
A long sigh filled the air as Rocky climbed down. ‘Rocky, please. I—‘
“NO.” Rocky shut him down again, dropping to the ground by the ladder with a thunk. “No, Grace will be ok. Grace will not die? Understand? Good.”
Unfortunately, no reply came back. Only the quiet sounds of Grace breathing, monitors beeping, and Grace’s heartbeat answered him. With a long whistle, Rocky climbed onto Grace’s bed beside him and laid down.
“Erid take care of Grace, Erid take care of Rocky. Will be okay, promise,” he warbled into the empty air.
===
Days passed in a blur. Same routine. He’d go up, talk to the transmitter, wait for a response, work on the portable-earth-thinking-machine, talk with Grace, watch Grace sleep, and fix or improve something in the ship. It passed in an endless routine, as they drew closer and closer to Erid.
His xenonite tools hissed as the liquids poured out and filled into a crack in the disco ball. The liquids mixed together and formed a thick xenonite coat, fusing thr two halves together.
‘Be careful with that, it’s my favorite.’
If Rocky had eyes, he’d be rolling them. “Grace say that for every object.” But a warm hum echoed through him as he cooled the metal down.
‘Not every object,’ his companion seemed to shoot back, ‘just the ones that are actually my favorite.’
“Humans too sentimental, need only a few things or else place fills with junk.” Rocky gestured vaguely with one arm towards all the stuff upstairs. “Need only bare essentials.”
The sound of Grace’s laughter warmed Rocky’s hearts. ‘Oh, you’re one to talk! You filled my place with junk!’
“Place already filled with junk when Rocky came. Only clean now because of Rocky now.”
‘Well I—‘
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Rocky shoot up, the disco ball hitting the ground with a thunk. Within moments, he was scrambling into his suit and even less time after that, he’d escaped into the other atmosphere and was climbing up the ladder.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Erid, that could be an eridian! An actual eridian!! They finally answered back! Long trills left him as he reached his chair and slammed a claw onto the microphone button.
“Yes, yes, yes? This Rocky, head engineer of first-ship-to-the-stars. Fifth generation of Clan of windy tunnels. Erid receive, question? Erid answer, question? Erid there, question?!” His notes grew more and more shrill as he listened for their response.
“Head Engineer Whistle-of-Wind-on-the-Sea? Is that you? Where is the rest of your crew?” An Eridian voice finally answered back. Echoing and soft. Unfamiliar.
“Who is Rocky speaking to?” He demanded, one foot stomping for emphasis. He knew all the control! He knew them! He did he did he did!
…
“Who Rocky speaking to, question?!” He demanded again, leg hitting harder. “Rocky know all control! That not control voice!” He added, then clicked off the microphone. What the hell was going on? I know these eridians. I know Erid. Things could not have changed so much.
He pulled two of his legs in front of him, then stomped a back leg and pressed the microphone again. “Give Rocky someone competent to speak to!” He yelled into it, angry trills and whistles filling in behind his words in a million insults.
Click- “Sorry,” a familiar voice reached Rocky’s carapace, lighting up the world around him with something that wasn’t his own cries. “That was a new recruit. Whistle-of-Wind-on-the-Sea, is that really you? We were under the impression the ship was lost.”
“Shifting-Sand-at-Bottom-Sea, yes, yes, yes. Is me! Is me!” He cried, the slowly dying warmth in him rekindled. “Please prepare elevator with environment made of 78.08% nitrogen, 20.95% of oxygen, and 0.93% of Argon. Have alien visitor, need separate environment. Hurry hurry. Alien sick, sick, sick. Need Eridian doctors NOW. Will send information, hold.”
Rocky climbed back down to the dormitory, grabbing the laptop from Grace’s side and then running back up.
‘What’s going on bud?’
“Contact! Erid contact! Rest rest rest, Grace be ok soon.” Rocky barely paid attention to Grace’s response as he climbed up and back into the seat. With a click of the microphone button, Rocky started talking again.
“Have information. Complied in earth-thinking-machine, doctors there? Good, listen, have much information. First humans—“
“Whistle-of-Wind, slow down. There are no doctors or scientists of that type here. Please, explain what happened to your crew. Then we can discuss the Alien.”
Rocky rocked back and forth, carapace itching as more quiet insults layered the air.
‘Rocky, bud? Are you ok?’
“YES YES! Need moment. Need moment.” He answered as he hummed more to himself.
“Who are you talking to, Whistle-of-Wind?” Shifting-Sand asked.
“Alien, talking to alien, Shush shush shush! Need moment,” Rocky snapped into the mic, his rocking doing little to calm him. A little buzz ran through him as he huddled in on himself.
Every part of this is stupid! Dumb, cruel, moronic! Why can’t they just LISTEN TO ME? He found himself thinking as he focused back on the microphone. “Apology. Rocky been dealing with a lot.”
“It’s quite alright, now, can you share what happened ti First-Ship-to-Travel-the-Stars?’ Came the reply, the edges of it’s soothing tone making it’s way through the radio. A juxtaposition to it’s request.
A low growl formed in him before he could stop it. “Crew gone. Now Alien. Alien is called Grace, very sick. Sick sick sick. Grace need attention moment Eridians can reach, understand? Grace cannot breathe Erid atmosphere, make suits. Is easy. Fix. Grace.” He let the growl pool like venom around his words.
…”We will see it is done. Whistle-of-Wind, you may relax. You’re only 14 and a 1/9th days away from home. Everything will be okay.” Shifting-Sand’s calming voice answered, its tones low and humming, vaguely…
“Am not a pebble,” Rocky huffed, lifting himself up. “Want Calming-River there. Bring Calming-River, please. Need see Calming-River.” He could feel the layers in his words sputter, out of sync. Out of rhythm. Their name bouncing a couple extra times around Rocky’s vocal chambers.
Would they still recognize him? The new scars, his slower pace, his cracking voice? Or would they not be able to tell at first? Would his beloved mate have moved on? His reason for coming home?
A pained warble escaped him at the thought. Calming-River, Adrian, two names trying to capture someone like them with nothing more than a pretty little bow. “Need see my mate.” His tone dropped a few octaves, and he dropped again. “Please, please, please.”
The next pause was almost more agonizing, but finally, the response came back. “Yes, you may see your mate. But first, we must know, do you have the cure for the Star-Killer?”
Rocky let out a relieved hum and settled deeper into the chair. “Obviously. What? Erid think Rocky come home with no cure? Moronic, dumb, dumb, dumb.” He didn’t miss the cries of relief from the other end of the signal.
“Thank you, Whistle-of-Wind. Please prepare the cure for us, and we will send up a ship with it. Just come home first, your mission is finally over.” Static came over the channel a moment later.
“Shifting-Sand, question? Shifting-Sand, question?” He leaned closer, turning the mic on and off until the signal came back.
“Apologies, something blocked the signal.” Came the familiar voice, tone steadily growing even more soothing. “Tell me about the alien, Whistles-of-Wind. We will do our best to prepare for them.”
Rocky finally felt himself relax as he started to explain human’s dietary needs, much to everyone’s discomfort. Well, everyone except him. Eating was gross, but not any more than anything else about his leaky space blob. In fact, talking about it was something easy, familiar. He and Grace ran this conversation over and over again. It came naturally to him now, as did the urge to sleep.
Below him, Grace lay asleep in his bed, calm. His heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm. He couldn’t watch. No one could watch. Rocky shook himself as the Eridians talked to each other.
I can last another three earth days. I’ll sleep then, with others to watch Grace sleep.
===
Rocky sat in his makeshift captain’s chair, the controls adjusted to be within his reach. The ship almost seemed to jump as he guided it towards the planet in the distance.
“You see, sometimes things just have to change. They couldn’t stay leader for ever, Whistle-of-Wind,” one of the recruits was saying. Just as with Shifting-Sand, their tone was abnormally low, running across his hearing auricles like dust and sinking in with a jab of frustration.
“Obviously, couldn’t stay. But should of regardless! Stupid, stupid, stupid. Whole planet stupid! Dumber than Grace!” Rocky huffed, pointing his light-reader (or “seeing-eye-gun) at the screen. 1.5 earth days left. Then Grace could get help.
A long whistle came from the radio, followed by a “sir? He was too old, he wanted to spend his days at home.” As if that changed anything!
“Bad excuse,” Rocky shot back as he slipped off the seat and grabbed his xenonite claws. “Should stay still. Dumb, dumb, dumb.” Is Grace’s heart still beating? Lungs still expanding and contradicting?
With barely more than a thought, he turned his focus down to Grace’s room. The human’s heart beat slow, his breaths were even. Alive. He was still alive.
“Good, Grace stay alive..” he whispered.
“Uh, sir?” Came the voice from the radio. Right.
Rocky let out an acknowledging hum, the words layered with mild irritation and boredom. “Yes? Am here. Am not going anywhere. Literally can’t. Is stuck. Stupid question. Dumb, dumb, dumb.” A few more insults escaped him than he meant to. But it was a dumb question so he could get away with it.
“Sir? I didn’t ask any—“ the other eridian hesitated, a loud buzzing filling the air instead. Like home.
himself as he slipped on the xenonite tools. My time alone shouldn’t have done that much. He thought, listening as the voices in the background seemed to meld into one.
“Apologies, a thrum has started. Before I leave, is there anything in specific you want to ask or request?” The Eridian asked, their voice nearly drowned out by the buzz of the others.
Rocky almost went to tap his fists, only to stop. “There message from Calming-River, question? Updates on them? Please?” He requested, starting work on his new project.
“Not that I know of, sir. But I will ask. Calming-River has been very separate for a hundred or so years.” The young eridian answered back, “I must leave now, sir, but in a couple of days you’ll be docked and safe. Hang on, sir.” And then the line clicked off.
Rocky sat there a moment longer, hands moving without any thought behind them. Calming-River—Adrian, his mate—had been suffering for so long. Alone. They are alone, they must think I am never coming home…
The thought hit him like a boulder as he felt the sting of xenonite hit an unprotected arm. A multilayered song filled the ship as he pulled that hand away. The little droplets were already attaching themselves to him, hardening rapidly into their hardened metal form.
An angry yowl started to build as he stared at it. Why couldn’t things just go right?? Why couldn’t he just—
With a loud screech, he dropped his xenonite tools and dug at the now fully hardened xenonite droplets. With a painful tug, he felt the carapace below the it crack. The little droplets came free, but so did a few other, completely untouched pieces. Ugly, gross.
Another growl layered his cries as he made sure that the crack hadn’t gone too deep. No blood. As long as there was no blood, he was fine.
‘Is everything okay up there?’ Grace’s voice interrupted.
“Yes, yes, yes. Just damaged carapace. Is fine. Due for molt soon anyway,” Rocky answered, picking up the xenonite tools with two other arms and leaving the injured one out of the way. “Not enough to get sick. Fine, fine, fine.”
‘Are you sure?’ he could almost hear the judgment in Grace’s voice.
“Yes, yes, yes. Rocky always right, Grace knows this.” Rocky rocked side to side as he started to work on some of the finer details. “What Grace doing, question?”
‘Well, I am going to work on the taumeba.’
“But?”
‘But nothing, I am going to work on them. I need to make something edible, Rock.’
Rocky could almost feel the footsteps, could almost hear Grace come up. “No, no, Grace sick. Grace, stay in bed. If Grace leave bed, Rocky tackle.”
‘Bud? That would crush most of my bones I think.’
“Yes.”
‘And you still plan to do it?’
“Yes.”
Nothing came to argue with him after that. The steps stilled. And when he diverted his attention back to Grace, the human had barely moved. Just the beating of his heart and sounds of his lungs.
“Rocky never hurt, Grace. But Grace need rest. Not work.” His xenonite hissed and dried below him as he went to work on the next leg of the project. Getting the details right.
I’m coming home, Calming-River.