Chapter Text
It was nearing midnight on the Hail Mary. Grace would’ve known that if he had bothered to check the time, but he was too focused on the model he and Rocky had been developing. The pair had been working feverishly to unravel the mystery of the Petrova line since Rocky had come aboard the Hail Mary a few days prior. Now that they could work together closely Grace wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his work, desperate to feel useful. Rocky had agreed until Grace had knocked over one of their models in a sleep deprived haze. With one haphazard elbow the many pieces they’d spent hours carefully assembling were sent scattering across the ship. Since then Rocky had made him stick to the sleep schedule the ship had set for him. Now was one such time as the ship’s voice chimed out through the lab.
“Dr. Grace, it is now 11:30 PM Pacific Standard Time. It is recommended you retire to the dormitory to rest.”
Grace huffed and pushed himself to his feet, setting aside his tools.
“Mary say time for Grace to sleep. You should listen,” Rocky chided as he followed the human’s stumbling steps down the long corridor to the dormitory. He kept a close eye on him, ensuring he didn’t trip over anything. Grace nodded, stretching a little and rubbing at his tired eyes.
“I’m listening, aren’t I?” He grumbled, stopping at the bathroom to brush his teeth and take care of his business before bed.
“Grace usually argue, argue, argue. Rocky had to be sure,” the Eridian said somewhat smugly. He tapped a foot on the ground impatiently.
“Grace like to stall.”
“I am not stalling. Believe me, you wouldn’t like me if I didn’t brush my teeth.”
Once Grace had finished he descended the ladder to the dormitory, kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed. He stretched a little, shifting to get comfortable on the mattress as Rocky scuttled down the tunnel to settle above him. Hours spent hunched over in the lab had taken a toll on his back, and Grace’s aching muscles were relieved to have some respite.
“Grace ready for sleep now?”
“Yes,” Grace mumbled, shutting his eyes. “Night, Rocky.”
“Grace,” Rocky chirped.
“I said goodnight Rocky.”
“Grace,” Rocky tapped at the barrier insistently.
“Rocky you’ve been nagging me to go to bed, so why don’t you let me-”
“Grace should remove glasses for sleeping,” Rocky pointed out irritatedly.
“Oh,” Grace mumbled, his face heating slightly as he took them off and tucked them into a cubby in his bunk.
“Thanks Rocky,” He said sheepishly, lying back down.
“Welcome,” Rocky replied dryly, and Grace was sure if the Eridian had eyes he would’ve rolled them. Rocky shook his carapace slightly and settled down once more in his xenonite tube. He had bits of the model to tinker with and the stubborn human was finally in bed, so all was right in the world. Minutes passed and Grace eventually drifted off to sleep, under Rocky’s watchful gaze of course.
Rocky was content as he watched his sleeping friend, vulnerable in his nest below him. It greatly satisfied him to finally have someone to protect. Something had settled in him, an anxious itch he hadn’t been able to scratch until the day the Hail Mary had arrived.
Sure, Rocky was relieved to finally have someone watch him as well. Forty-six years of lying down and not knowing if he would live to see the morning had frayed his nerves, so he took great comfort in having Grace by his side. But there was a part of Rocky that felt soothed to finally have a companion to care for. Grace was so squishy and fragile after all, it was a miracle their species had survived as long as they had! Nonetheless, Rocky felt satisfied and proud to keep his new friend safe as he slumbered.
The ship was quiet save for the low whir of Rocky’s tools and Grace’s soft breaths. As he worked Rocky noted that he did enjoy some of the biological rhythms he’d come to notice in Grace. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath. The soft, slow beating of his heart. The small sounds and movements he made in his sleep; it was interesting to Rocky. So different than his crewmates who’d fallen still and silent each time they rested.
And Grace slept for such a long time! Rocky recalled this with some amusement as he knitted together a string of malleable xenonite. He’d been appalled to learn Grace required such a long rest period, but after seeing how grumpy, angry, and stupid he became when he was sleep deprived, Rocky decided he could contend with it. The long hours also gave him time to work on his own, which he appreciated on the days the pair argued; but they always made up. On a journey like this, so far away from everything they both knew and loved, they only had each other. That wasn’t a bond easily broken.
So on nights like this Rocky worked diligently in his tube, letting the soft rhythms of Grace’s breaths and heartbeat keep time as he worked.
About three hours of Grace’s rest period drifted by when the human began exhibiting some strange behaviors. Rocky had been struggling to fuse a particularly difficult section of the model together when he noticed something was off. Grace’s heartbeat had picked up, which wasn’t uncommon, but it had risen to a level Rocky had only noticed when he went on EVAs. Rocky adjusted himself to get a better view of Grace with his echolocation. He looked pretty much the same, but his eyebrows were knitted together in concentration. What should he do? Perhaps this moment of anxiety would pass. Rocky returned to his model with some unease, keeping an eye on his friend.
Minutes passed and Grace began to toss and turn, mumbling under his breath. Again, not uncommon, but this time seemed different. He was distressed and agitated, his words making no sense. Rocky set his tools down and scooted closer to the xenonite divider, calling out to him.
“Grace? What wrong, question?”
He received no answer, forced to watch as Grace began to thrash in his nest, almost as if fighting the bedsheets wrapped around him. Rocky fidgeted nervously, scampering further down his tube to be closer to Grace’s eye level.
“Grace upset, what wrong, question?”
Again no answer, and to Rocky’s horror Grace began to leak from his eyes again, something the human had explained was often caused by sadness or fear.
“Grace? Grace! Wake up! You leak! Something wrong!” Rocky cried from within his tunnel, but his chirps seemed to fall on deaf ears. The Eridian began to panic, feeling useless as he paced back and forth in his tunnel. The only thing he could think to do was to ask Grace’s ship for assistance.
“Mary? What wrong with Grace, question?” He called out, hoping for an answer. To his relief a moment later a soothing voice rang out from the speaker in the wall, “Dr. Grace’s vitals are stable at the moment. Would you like to perform a biometric scan?”
Rocky wasn’t sure what some of those words meant, they hadn’t been coded into the translator yet, but he was willing to try anything right now.
“Yes!”
“One moment please.”
Armando, who had been standing by, seemed to power up. He lowered from the ceiling and hovered over Grace’s sleeping form.
“Biometric scan now in progress.”
Rocky watched with trepidation as Armando’s camera flicked over Grace, beginning to retake his vitals. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around his arm as the nannybot gently prodded and tended to him. A few agonizing moments later Armando drew back, putting away a few of his tools.
“Dr. Grace is still stable. However, based on his elevated heart rate, rapid breathing, and increased perspiration, it is likely that he is experiencing a nightmare.”
“Nightmare, question? Explain!”
“A nightmare is a deeply upsetting or frightening dream that usually causes the sleeper to wake, bringing on feelings of terror, panic, or stress.” Armando quoted from his medical programming.
“Why, question?” Rocky asked, pressing himself as close to the xenonite barrier as he could, wishing he could help.
“Nightmares often occur when the sleeper has high brain activity and when the emotion center is active. Things like stress, anxiety, or trauma can set off nightmares like this, turning good dreams into bad ones.”
Rocky regarded his friend nervously. He remembered Grace trying to explain dreaming to him, but it was still a bit difficult to understand. Eridians didn’t dream, so the concept of Grace hallucinating for a majority of his rest period was still strange to him. Yet another bizarre human quirk Rocky couldn’t quite wrap his head around.
“How fix, question?”
“The nightmare may end before Dr. Grace wakes, or it is likely he will awake in distress, thus ending the experience. This is not a life threatening condition.”
Rocky mulled over this information, still not satisfied. Grace seemed upset and afraid, and Rocky was not content to sit by and watch his friend suffer. He watched as Armando shifted closer, studying the man he had been programmed to care for. The softer silicone fingers on one of his arms raised to gently brush away the leakage, or “tears” as Grace called them, from where they were slipping down his cheeks. Rocky didn’t like these soft, anguished sounds his friend was making. They fell from the human’s trembling lips, sounding broken and pitiful, not like Grace at all.
“How fix, question?” Rocky repeated with growing distress. Armando seemed to pick up on this, staying quiet for a moment before he began to move once more.
“There are a few things that may bring Dr. Grace comfort.”
Rocky watched as Armando opened a drawer in the wall with one of his prongs, withdrawing what seemed to be another blanket. This confused Rocky as Grace was already using one in his nest. He watched as Armando peeled away the thin blanket, now damp with sweat, and gently nudged Grace onto his side before draping the new one over him.
“What Armando doing, question? Grace have blanket.”
Rocky paced in agitation. Stupid machine, unable to help his friend.
“Now administering weighted blanket. This regulates the nervous system through Deep Pressure Stimulation. This will give Dr. Grace the impression of being hugged or held.”
Rocky tilted his carapace in confusion, watching as the heavy cloth was laid over Grace, then gently tucked around him by Armando’s nimble prongs.
“I’ve now shifted Dr. Grace into the fetal position, his preferred sleeping posture. This should bring him some comfort.”
“Explain fetal position, question?”
“Fetal is an adjective that refers to an unborn human or mammal. The fetal position is a resting posture where a person lies on their side with knees bent and drawn toward the chest, often with the chin and arms tucked in. This mimics a fetus in the womb.”
Rocky observed, trying to piece together the information around the words he did not know.
“Armando help Grace sleep…like baby. Why, question?” Rocky asked, bewildered.
“Being in the fetal position can bring great comfort to humans. This position relaxes muscles, keeps vulnerable internal organs protected, and provides psychological comfort by mimicking the womb infants are developed in. This position combined with the weighted blanket may remind Dr. Grace of being held as an infant by his mother.”
It seemed to be working since Grace’s heart rate had finally begun to calm, the heavy blanket restricting his erratic unconscious movements.
“Grace not baby, why help, question?”
This time Armando took a moment to respond. Both Eridian and machine watched over Grace as he fidgeted some, his breathing still fast and short. Armando extended the arm tipped with soft silicone fingers and gently placed them on Grace’s back, beginning to rub in circular motions.
“There are many reasons these things comfort adult humans, like the psychological security of having the organs protected. Many believe it’s caused by the deep rooted memory of being cared for as an infant.”
Rocky mulled this over as he watched Armando rub Grace’s back, his fingers massaging in firm but gentle circles. It made him think back on his own memories as a hatchling, curled up beside his siblings in their nest, their parents doting on them at any expression of discomfort.
“What Armando doing now, question?”
“I am rubbing Dr. Grace’s back to soothe him,” Rocky began to chirp out another question, but it seemed Armando had become used to his probing queries and began to explain himself anyways.
“Gentle, rhythmic touch like this causes the body to release oxytocin and dopamine, feel-good chemicals that promote bonding and trust, as well as lowering stress-inducing hormones like cortisol. This should help with Dr. Grace’s anxiety.”
Rocky watched, fascinated as Grace’s heart rate further slowed, his breathing finally following. The tension in his face began to dissipate and his mumbles became less frequent. Armando seemed to observe with a sense of satisfaction as Grace’s vitals began to even out once more, his silicone fingers still gently rubbing.
As Rocky watched Grace finally calm, he wondered what Grace had looked like when he was young. Much smaller, he assumed, but he knew little about the growth process of humans. He made a mental note to ask Grace about it when he woke.
“Grace like touch and curl sleeping,” Rocky mused aloud.
“Yes, humans are a very tactile species. Touch has many benefits, both physically and psychologically. Being touch starved can cause many problems.”
“Touch starved?” Rocky repeated the phrase. He’d never heard of such a thing.
“Hungry for touch, question?”
“Yes, touch starvation occurs when humans don’t receive physical touch, leading to mental, emotional, and physical problems.”
Rocky was stunned. Of course he enjoyed the social bonding aspect of physical touch. What he wouldn’t give to have Adrian wrapped up in his arms once again, but he didn’t become physically sick over it.
“Grace get sick if not touched?”
“In a manner of speaking, without physical touch Dr. Grace may begin to exhibit increased anxiety, depression, high blood pressure, and even a weakened immune system.”
These infuriating humans! So fragile, so vulnerable! Yet another thing for Rocky to worry about. He watched as Armando continued to rub Grace’s back, soothing away his stress. He pressed a hand to the xenonite divider, faintly mimicking the robot's gentle movements. Damn this tunnel and the atmospheric differences keeping them apart. It was his job to protect Grace as he slept, not this machine. Rocky watched with rising bitterness and jealousy as the robotic arm lulled his friend back to sleep. It annoyed him greatly to not be able to help Grace, to soothe him and trigger these so-called “happy chemicals.” He should initiate that closeness and bonding, not this machine!
Nevertheless he was relieved to see Grace calm once more. What a frightening experience this had been for both of them. He settled back down by his tools, picking them up but not finding the will to begin crafting again.
“Grace okay now, question?”
He peered at Grace’s face, relieved to see him relaxed and content again. His eyes no longer leaked and his heart beat a slow, soothing tempo once more.
“Yes, Dr. Grace’s heart rate and breathing seem to be stable now, it’s likely the episode has passed.” Armando slowly withdrew, retreating a few feet but still hovering nearby.
Rocky slowly returned to the xenonite model, his mind clouded with many thoughts. His inability to bond with Grace the way humans needed left a new, uncomfortable jealousy and slight heartache in his abdomen. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. Unsure of how to deal with these emotions, he threw himself back into his work, counting down the minutes until Grace’s rest period would end. As he fused and welded he imagined what it would be like to be free of his xenonite ball and tunnels. He wondered how soft the human’s skin was and imagined curling up beside him in his nest. He eyed the panel of his ball that had flexible xenonite. If only…