Chapter Text
Grace’s classroom was its own little world. It was a world-within-a-world, truth be told—an educational ecological niche carved out of the new life he had created on Erid.
His and Rocky’s efforts had returned Erid’s star to full health, and the scrapped annihilation of their species had brought about a new scientific age for the Eridians, as they sought to make the most of the second chance they had been given. That scientific curiosity had brought more children to Grace's classroom than he could handle.
It was hard enough keeping human kids in check. Sentient space rocks being taught by the one and only alien on their entire planet? Forget about it. Just… forget about it.
The Eridian kids were always excited in his classroom. He liked to see them happy, so he didn't mind them asking questions out of turn, talking over him occasionally, or even passing around unflattering xenon sculptures of him behind the glass barrier. He could handle all that.
What he couldn't handle was adults. Parents and passersby just happening to drop by in the middle of his class—as Grace and his dome were, even now, still a curiosity to many of the Eridians—and subsequently shattering his fragile control of the classroom. His lifespan was pretty short in comparison to the Eridians’, and he wanted to spend as much time as possible actually teaching the kids before he grew too old. Fending off their parents was a waste of his limited days.
So, Grace had instated a very firm rule over the last few years: when class was in session, there were to be no external interruptions. None. Zero. Not a single peep from the outside world.
Rocky was a valuable ally in this cause, as he knew more than anyone how limited Grace’s time was. His diligence made it all the more surprising when, forty minutes into a lesson on cosmic rays, he cartwheeled into the classroom screaming at the top of his lungs—or whatever he had instead of lungs.
“Grace!” he shrieked, his melodic tones startling the entire crowd of musically-inclined kids into silence. Grace had become fluent in Eridian over the years, and he did not miss carrying a clunky laptop around with him. Rocky spun on the spot, moving so erratically that his xenonite-glass-encased feet slipped on the floor. He only did that when he was really panicking. “Grace!”
Grace offered the kids a break, then took Rocky off to one side. “What's wrong?”
“Grace! Human!”
"Yeah, bud, I know. We established that pretty early on. Grace human, Rocky Eridian.”
“Not Grace, idiot. Another human!”
“Have you been watching my old tapes again?” Grace had shared Hail Mary’s entire collection of media with Rocky and Adrian, much to their delight. It was a bit weird watching 1950s westerns with a pair of aliens, but he'd gotten used to it pretty quick. Adrian did a mean John Wayne.
“You not listen. There is another human on Erid!”
The classroom exploded with noise. Grace picked out the odd word here and there—human! mate! amaze amaze amaze!—but there were so many overlapping sounds that he couldn't distinguish exactly what the kids were saying.
As the voices faded into a hum, something in Grace's chest flickered into life. He had buried it so long ago that he hardly knew what it was anymore, and so he took off his glasses and cleaned them on the edge of his cardigan, as if Rocky's words were a smudge he could clear away before finding the will to hope.
“Ah…” his words failed halfway out of his mouth. Rocky chittered at him, a little sound of encouragement. “There’s another human? Here. And… alive?”
“You think I come here to tell Grace about dead human? That would make you sad. Human is alive.”
Alive. A real, living person, with flesh and blood and bone, just like him.
Grace took in a breath. He had too many questions, and not enough time to ask them all. If a human had somehow made their way here—crossing that dark, vast expanse between Earth and Erid—then he couldn't keep them waiting any longer.
“Take me to them.”