Chapter Text
Adrian was worried.
The space elevator car rattled and shook as it escaped the upper reaches of Erid’s atmosphere, and as a distraction from the din, Adrian thought about the last conversation they had had with Rocky about Ryland Grace.
Rocky had been quick to brush off Adrian’s concern. Humans very strange, he had replied, tinkering with some gauge or another that he was designing. Normal to not understand their behavior. Tell Grace to sleep, Rocky advised. He is stupid without sleep.
But Adrian didn’t think the correct word for Grace’s behavior lately was stupid so much as reclusive.
It had gotten worse since the first day.
Adrian remembered that day well: the day the Eridian satellites had detected the Hail Mary approaching Erid.
The Eridian chief council had assembled, filled at first with trepidation about the alien spacecraft, which bore no resemblance to the one they had built and sent hundreds of years ago to the faraway star that wasn’t dimming.
But once they attempted to hail the vessel, they learned that Rocky was safely aboard, and the mood of fear and skepticism turned to one of joy.
Adrian had been on the first car to ascend after Rocky figured out a mechanism that would allow the Hail Mary to dock with the elevator terminus.
Rocky had greeted them with ecstatic squeaks, in a state of near disbelief to learn that Adrian had not, in fact, found a new mate during the long time he’d been gone.
And then, Rocky had taken Adrian to meet Grace.
The introduction had taken place at a xenonite barrier that Rocky built to separate his own atmosphere from Grace’s. Grace had waved one of his four appendages—only two of which were functional for the purposes of using tools and communicating, Rocky later explained. (The larger, lower ones were used primarily for ambulation, while the two upper limbs did pretty much any task the human needed to do. Adrian thought that that seemed inefficient, but had kept the thought private.)
Grace had seemed sociable enough during that first meeting. Rocky explained that Grace was weak and ill from a lack of suitable food—a problem he insisted that the science thrum address immediately, stressing the direness of the situation.
But whatever discomfort Grace might have been experiencing, there had been a pleasing pitch to his greeting, which came through a machine that he and Rocky had built on their journey home from Tau Ceti to translate human speech into Eridian.
Grace had told Adrian how much he had been looking forward to making their acquaintance, noting that Rocky had spoken of little else other than his mate the closer they came to Erid.
That had made Adrian happiest of all: learning that after all their time apart, Rocky was just as devoted as he’d been when he’d set off on the daring mission years ago.
But as Adrian observed during that first meeting, Rocky was also extremely devoted to Grace.
That was not surprising—the pair had endured things that Adrian could hardly imagine, and they had traversed the wide expanse of space for years with no one else for company. It was logical that they would carry a strong bond as a result.
Jealousy was uncommon among Eridians, and Adrian harbored none toward Grace. He was simply a part of the family now, and he had been since the hour of their arrival.
And that was precisely why Adrian was so concerned.
Rocky was depending on Adrian to look after Grace while the Eridians scrambled to construct a habitat for him down below.
It was a complex process, and required the coordination of several thrums—scientists, engineers, crafters, culinary masters. Ever the perfectionist, Rocky was determined to be involved in every facet of the endeavor. Ensuring that everything was flawlessly engineered for Grace’s survival and comfort was of the utmost importance, he had explained to Adrian, and for that reason, he would be unable to visit Grace as often as he would like while it was all under construction.
So, Adrian had volunteered to take the elevator every few Eridian days in Rocky’s stead, to ensure that Grace had everything he needed while his home was prepared.
The list of Eridians permitted to visit the spaceship was a short one; only Adrian and a few scientist Eridians who were working to engineer Grace’s food supply had been granted access. In the beginning, they had all crammed into the elevator on every trip up to the Hail Mary. But it had been well over 300 Eridian days since the ship’s arrival, and the novelty had faded as the work had ramped up.
The science Eridians were in a race against time to engineer a palatable, nutrient-dense food source that could sustain Grace for an indefinite amount of time. If they failed, it was very likely that Grace would die.
Rocky made that fact clear to everyone working on Project Saving Grace every chance he got.
The culinary team had brought up a few samples, but almost all of them had made Grace retch and vomit, and though none would dare speak the thought aloud in any of the thrums, Adrian sensed by their dwindling presence on the elevator trips that the scientist Eridians were growing discouraged by his reactions.
Today, it was only Adrian making the ascent.
Once the elevator was safely docked, the door hissed open, and Adrian scuttled into the now-familiar tunnel connecting it to the Hail Mary.
“Friend Grace?” Adrian hummed, pressing their grey stone legs against the xenonite barrier. Adrian tapped three times, trying to find the correct balance between being loud enough to be heard, but not too loud as to come across as demanding.
There was no answer, but Adrian could hear Grace’s heartbeat thrumming not too far off. While Eridians had two heartbeats, humans only had one, and it was far more erratic than the steady, piston-like pulses that Adrian was used to hearing among others of their own species.
Adrian tapped again. “Friend Grace come out, question?”
The heartbeat quickened. It was fast and shallow—a sign of poor nourishment, Rocky had acknowledged once, in low, sad tones.
The next time Adrian tapped, the sound was strong enough for them to glimpse Grace’s form in the distance—tall and gangling, like the slender stalagmites that grew not far from Rocky and Adrian’s abode.
“Greetings, friend Grace,” Adrian intonated. “And greetings from Rocky. He is busy busy busy down below making arrangements. But he promises to visit soon.”
Grace said something in reply, but it was so quiet, it didn’t register with the ship’s translator system, and Adrian wasn’t versed enough in human speech to have any idea what it might have been. Grace’s voice was so thin, it barely strengthened Adrian’s sonic map of him.
It was almost as if he didn’t want to be noticed.
Adrian’s carapace drooped. It was the same reticence, the same skittishness they had observed in Grace over the past several visits.
“All of Erid excite excite excite to have you join us,” Adrian offered, attempting to keep their voice high and hopeful. “Rocky say to tell you everything is ready soon.”
“Thanks, Adrian,” Grace replied, shuffling closer. His face contorted slightly into something Rocky had called a smile. It was supposed to be an expression of happiness, but Adrian thought Grace’s tone didn’t quite match it.
“Grace need anything, question?” Adrian inquired. It had become their standard pattern of conversation: Adrian would offer greetings, then ask if Grace had any immediate needs to be addressed. Grace would always decline, in a sweet, sincere tone that conveyed his gratitude, and then Adrian might offer a few quick updates on the biodome construction effort before departing.
But today was different.
Today, Grace made a strange request for something Adrian had never heard of, but something Grace assured them Rocky could learn how to make with the help of his Earth thinking machine.
Grace asked for something called paint.