Chapter Text
Not far from Myrta's cascading crisis, the paramedics were laying down their stretcher to begin extraction, projecting their report as they gently transferred the survivor. Myrta adjusted their angle to receive it clearly.
"Preliminary report, successful confirmation of life. All hearts beating synchronously and at expected rate for healing sleep. Total carapace surface damaged by suspected gaseous chemical exposure, with vent and probable internal systems injuries. Urgent care required for complex structural damage to thorax between V and λ limbs, including avulsion of carapace layers and surrounding micro-fractures. Promising early scab development. Survivor self-administered heat sterilization pack and titanium alloy splint, which is not recommended to be removed at this time.”
Myrta split their attention briefly to check on Grace. Theodor was listening with the requisite gravitas, but Grace was shifting in place; using its keratinous claw-tips to worry at the tissue around its orifice, even shredding thin slivers between its sharp protrusions. Concern clouded their feelings of relief at the survivor's relatively hopeful prognosis- it reminded them of their own childhood habit of carapace picking. Perhaps the report had been too complex for Grace to understand.
"Grace," they piped up gently. "Would you like me to explain what Rowan and Johnathan learned about your cluster-member?"
"Not die?" Grace dropped its claw in order to speak, managing a warbling question tone.
"Not dead," Myrta hastened to reply. "Alive, and they did a very good job taking care of themself before they went to sleep. This will make it easier for the doctors to help them."
"... personal and mission crest are significantly degraded, but in combination with the latest information provided by Mission Director Faucon, we are prepared to make a statement identifying the survivor ‘♬Ren’ as Senior Engineer Rocky..."
An engineer...? Myrta couldn't help their surprise, but they did a better job hiding it than Theodor, who audibly honked.
"An engineer! Is there a single scientist I can talk to!?"
Grace, too, was excited by the news. "Yes yes yes!"
"♬Ren’s name is Engineer Rocky?” Myrta pushed for a straight answer; Grace clearly knew the name, even if it couldn’t say it.
“Rocky? Yes, yes, ♬Ren mate...” Grace tensed, inhaling deeply.
“Structural Engineer Adrian?” They suggested, before the alien could strain itself with another of its already famous, lengthy interpretations of an eridian name. It may not have been the polite thing to do, but a little help couldn't hurt.
“Yes! ♬Ren use words... very use words mate.”
Structural Engineer Adrian was well-known amongst the mission bereavement support groups for their absence. They had been resolute in their belief of their mate's survival and the mission's eventual success to the point of social friction, culminating in a specific, very public fallout with Mission Director Faucon at the Iℓℓℓ year anniversary memorial event. Evidently, the two had put old grievances aside long enough for an interview.
“Thank you for telling us, Grace. Rowan and Johnathan are preparing to bring Engineer Rocky to the doctors. They’re going to move them out through the door we entered. Can they do that?” It was a bit redundant considering the lack of alternatives, but it was important to let children feel included in major events, if what they remembered from their mandatory preliminary-advanced-education psychology classes still held true.
“Yes, Grace do...” It pointed at the door, waiting.
Not quite so included. Myrta firmly avoided an accusatory tone as they asked, “You... want to go?”
“No.” It pointed again.
“The door...?”
“Rrrrrr! Be careful. Grace do.”
“Alright," Myrta conceded. "Grace do.”
Myrta could hear the paramedics moving Rocky slowly and steadily, passing through the room of inexplicable rectangles. The engineer was sealed into a half-ball of xenonite panels with handles on two sides for carrying; a standard collapsible xenonite stretcher modified for a closed system. To their surprise, Grace seemed unconcerned with the proceedings, choosing instead to fidget with its claws and occasionally sink into an even deeper lean against the wall. Myrta was so caught up in observing it that they failed to consider what was about to happen before it did.
As soon as the medical team turned the corner from the long hall, Grace’s internal systems began to go haywire- its heart began to pound, its breathing quickened, and its limbs pushed weakly at the floor in a clumsy leap towards the procession. It pressed itself closely against the xenonite, swaying and craning its upper body segment. “Rocky! You're in there, right? You're okay? I can't see...”
Myrta nearly flattened themself to the ground in shock, taking stock of the scene quickly, but the paramedics were counting on them for an explanation they didn’t have. Theodor was going to be of no help, having pressed themselves into a groove in the adjacent wall to dodge Grace's stumbling charge and showing no indication that they planned to leave. It could obviously be distressing for a small child to watch an unwell caregiver being taken away, but Grace hadn’t been distressed; at least, not until Rocky was physically in the same room as it. Were its senses supposed to be this weak?
It continued fretting and tapping the xenonite, mumbling rocky, rocky in breathy exhalations. This wouldn't work. They needed Grace at least attempting to speak their shared language if they wanted a shot at communicating. Myrta's pulse quickened as they edged closer, making their steps conspicuous enough to hopefully serve as forewarning, and took a chance. “Grace, is that your word for cluster-member Rocky?”
“Huh? Rocky?” It swung its upper body segment between Rocky and Myrta, who radiated their softest, most non-threatening hum. They usually mediated between regional politicians and hive representatives, who might not appreciate the apparent condescension, but needs must when accommodating vulnerable alien children. “Yes. Cluster-member ♬Ren ‘Rocky’.”
"That’s very nice. Did Rocky give you your name too?"
"Yes!" It puffed up its thin body with air and launched into a rapid string of flat syllables. "My name is Dr. Ryland Grace, but 'Dr.' is what I do, not my name, so that's really not important, and uh, most people just call me Grace, so... Grace." It used one palm to tap its body segment, near the joint where an upper limb connected. "Grace."
Myrta wasn't at the space elevator to gossip, but Grace's unconventional name had been the topic of some debate amongst those in the anthropological sciences. It lacked the distinctive prefix of an egg name, but was so short as to be inappropriate for even a pet soft-scale-clay-burrower; it being Rocky's decision only created more questions than it answered.
They shook themselves. The full relationship between the alien and the engineer could come later. Myrta's priority now was keeping Grace stable and the operation running smoothly. "You can continue to call Rocky your word if you'd like, Grace."
“♬Ren Grace study. Use words.” Its systems were gradually slowing down. “Grace use words... cluster-member... I V λ... hee-lii-um... bad-digest... throw-game..."
It seemed as though kids liked to show off, no matter where in space they hailed from. “As long as you're comfortable. Grace, can I ask you some questions that could help the doctors take care of Rocky?”
“Grace... use words... ♬Ren hurt?” It released the closed-dome and swiveled its upper body between Myrta and the paramedics, who gently lifted the stretcher again and moved closer to the airlock.
Myrta attempted to keep Grace occupied as the motion began. Its body language leaned after them, but it didn’t make any more erratic movements. “Yes, it would be very helpful if Grace could talk to us. Can you help us understand what happened?”
“Yes. ♬Ren...” Grace lifted one long limb into the air. It held it in place briefly before bringing it down with a dull thump onto the floor that Myrta felt reverberating in their clawtips. The intention was clear, as was the fact that Grace may have even witnessed its caregiver’s injury, but it sounded much more emotionally regulated despite the distressing subject matter.
"Rocky fell? Do you know how far?"
"Not big. Of Grace ship." It repeated the same motion again, this time gesticulating repeatedly at the ceiling before striking the floor with another flat palm.
Johnathan hummed lowly, intricately layering their voices- so Grace wouldn't understand, Myrta realized. "If what it says is accurate, Engineer Rocky should have been more likely to damage the floor than it damaging them. Their injury is almost certainly predicated on their compromised carapace integrity."
"Grace," Rowan added, audibly. "How long has Rocky been asleep?"
Grace’s orifice muscles pinched and twisted. “∀.” It finally sounded out the number, holding up and displaying all ∀ of its claw-digits on one limb to accompany it.
∀? ∀ days? That put the time of injury just barely before first radio contact. Myrta didn’t know enough about medicine to judge that timeline, but Rowan appeared entirely uncomfortable. They signalled surreptitiously at the airlock.
"Grace," Myrta hummed. "Rocky needs to go to the doctors now."
"Oh! Oh, shoot- here, lemme just-" Grace's singular heartbeat suddenly picked up again, and the room briefly tensed with the fear of another outburst, but it just clumsily scrambled its way to the airlock. It braced itself against the wall containing the interface (another mysterious rectangular panel) and attempted to rise again, only to quickly abort the movement and kneel awkwardly on the middle limb-joints of its lower limbs.
"...Help Grace, please. Do rrrr." It used its dexterous claws to pantomime gripping the manual door mechanism. "Grace use words. Friendly do rrrrr. Be careful." And then, with no warning, Grace's long orifice muscle darted out to lave over its exterior tissue, leaving a wet film before retreating as quickly as it appeared. Myrta should have been disgusted. Instead, their hearts clenched as Grace gave one more weak question tone: "Please?"
Grace tapped at the interface, and Myrta waited with their claws on the mechanism. They'd seen the necessary steps as it opened the door for them, but they gingerly tested their grip- it would functionally entomb them to compromise the only atmospheric cycling chamber. At Grace's whistle, they swung the door open and ushered the medical team through.
The team inside verified the seal, and Grace continued tapping at the interface, waiting for the eridian atmosphere to stabilize before releasing the final threshold. Myrta wasn't sure if it could see the paramedics and survivor being whisked away for decontamination, but its attention didn't waver.
"Grace, please excuse me while I give a report to my team members outside."
Another opposable claw-digit was shown to them. An affirmative gesture, then. Myrta hummed graciously and quickly positioned themself beside Theodor, using one limb to subtly dislodge them from their hiding place.
"Preliminary report. Friendly diplomatic contact established with 'Grace'. Warmly welcomed aboard the vessel with..." Myrta wove a second song under their breath. "You're acting ridiculous."
Theodor straightened their posture, overcompensating with painful tension. "I know."
"... has demonstrated a competent understanding of... Then tell me what's wrong. It might be a child, but it's the exact same alien you couldn't shut up about for λ days. You can't have lost interest so suddenly."
"I am interested. I've been the only idiot in this region interested in intelligent alien life since the star-killer crisis began." Theodor tapped restlessly. "I isolated it! I sequenced its DNA! It should have opened the doors to the limitless possibilities of alien life, even civilizations! But my voice was drowned out in every thrum for 'sensationalism' because people were 'afraid' and 'the world was ending'. They still called me when an alien actually appeared, though. And I have no clue how to even speak to it."
"...had positive interactions with all team members and exhibited complete-" Myrta's song stuttered slightly, and they quickly pushed past it. "Complete cooperation with the extraction of Engineer Rocky. You can learn to speak with it if you meet it on its terms. You can still get the solution, and your life's ambition isn't so flimsy as to be dashed over the bent limb-joint of a hatchling; the fact that Grace exists has already validated your theories. You're not here to impress a thrum."
"Thank you. But, I kind of am."
Myrta cut off their report song, focusing solely on Theodor. "What do you mean?"
Theodor shifted uncomfortably, whispering back. "I have quotas. Expectations. Not just about the star-killer solution. If I don't meet them, they'll send another scientist."
Frigid oxygen crackled between the two. "What kind of quotas?"
"... Tissue, fluid, and respiratory samples for a broad spectrum of live contact tests and chemical composition analyses." Theodor tapped lightly on their mission kit. Sure enough, it was packed with a small bundle of supplies that Myrta had thought innocuous before. "I was going to ask it politely, with full disclosure." They added, reedy and hurried.
Myrta vented so much steam they almost fell over from the strain of regulating their own temperature. "Are you serious!? That would be very useful for me to know about, given that I'm the one moderating every interaction you have with Grace! This is why your thrum and my thrum should have thrummed together! And I don't recall hearing about this in the alien contact organizational thrum or the team briefing thrum. Why would you even agree to that!? It's delicate!"
"I know that now!" Theodor pressed themself so low as to be practically crawling on their abdomen. "But the xenobiology lab won't even be functional without any xenobiological material to begin running tests on, and you can forget about a doctor qualified to take care of Grace-"
"More things I would have appreciated an update on. They want you to do this now!?"
"It's such a tight timeline-"
"Their timeline is unnecessarily and recklessly rushing someone who is our guest, not a walking, talking organic-"
"I have to, or else-"
"They're playing you for a fool-"
"Hey. Um, hello."
Grace waved weakly, its body leaning against the closed airlock door, and Myrta and Theodor leapt apart- they hadn't noticed how conspiratorially close they'd been huddling. It narrowed the soft-tissue flaps that opened and closed over its fluid orbs and raised one claw to point between Myrta and Theodor. "Do science?"
Theodor raised a limb hesitantly. "I do science."
"Do science star-eat fix."
"...Yes? Yes."
"Happy happy happy." Grace rotated its claws at the joint in an unmistakable, if not unnervingly more dexterous gesture. “Grace do science."
"No!" Theodor's voice crackled with stress. "I mean, thank you, Grace. I'll do the science. You can... relax. Or, um… play?"
Grace's gas-sacs contracted, and its orifice split again to let out the same repeated pulses of harsh sound. Did it want to 'do science' that badly? It picked up its claws, waving them happily until its air supply normalized. "Grace do science."
It was happy...? It was laughing. Theodor appeared deeply concerned about what part of that it found funny enough to laugh about, but they were holding themself together.
“Grace do big science of staaar eat. Astrophage. Staar-eat eat, taumoeba. Taumoeba eat astrophage." It leaned closer. It definitely used its fluid orbs to focus, Myrta decided, and it was definitely focused on Theodor.
The scientist perked up, despite the scrutiny. "That's the solution? Something that eats it? I mean, literally eats it? It's alive? Alive as in 'not-die'? What does it do with the energy-"
“Yes yes yes! It's an 'eating cell'. We actually have those all throughout our bodies. Fun fact, they drag their victims inside themselves to be dissolved in acid-" Grace teetered precariously onto its two lower claws as it chattered, drawing to its dizzying full height for the first time since it had greeted them. Its interior liquids raced downwards through its body, and it shook its upper body segment rapidly. “Woah,” it vocalized. “I think I gotta-”
Without further warning, it crashed back down onto its large body structure, and it didn't take a xenobiologist to tell that it was a painful, involuntary maneuver. Its organs jolted and shook, making Myrta wince in sympathy. Its endoskeleton still sounded intact, but without a mineral-dense carapace it only had its soft tissues and fluid systems to absorb and redirect the force of the impact.
"Grace, are you alright?" It would be within its rights to cry, as many frightened hatchlings did the first time they took a harsh tumble, but Myrta was beginning to suspect that this wasn't its first time. There was no telling what other medical conditions Grace was dealing with, and sensory impairment often correlated with fluid imbalances. 'Clumsy', they had called it. They could kick themself.
"Oof!" Grace wheezed. It swayed and fumbled its way back to sitting. "All good! Happens, uh... sometimes. Grace... not-hurt. Grace do science." Its fluid orbs twitched rapidly within their recesses. “Use words of Grace, Annie... Annie help Grace, please. Thank.”
It stretched out one of its long limbs, and Myrta watched in baffled horror as it placed the entirety of a soft claw directly onto Theodor’s suited carapace.
Theodor, to their credit, did not further injure Grace as they leapt back from the freezing touch, and they only screamed a little bit. Grace pulled away and winced.
“Apology apology apology. Grace bad.”
“No!" Myrta interrupted, too quickly. Stars above, why did it have to sound so miserable? "No. Ahem. Theodor is happy to help. Aren’t they?”
Theodor nudged Myrta urgently. “I thought you were the liaison,” they whined.
“I thought you were a scientist,” Myrta nudged back. “Hold the alien’s damn claw!”