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Rocky did not exactly like being in the space elevator, nowadays.
When they were young and unmarred by the horrors of the universe, it had been one of their favorite places on the planet. This sprawling tower leading into the sky, connecting their planet to the unknown heavens. They had scurried along its length during training, wondering at what might have been out there in the vastness of space. Of course the Eridian was older, now. Wiser, and the heavens had lost a lot of its appeal after forty-six years of suffocating silence.
But Rocky was not here for their own sake.
“No chase! No chase!”
Tapping sounds echo across the xenonite somewhere to their left. Gracie and Mary have pitter pattered to an abrupt stop, their little forms wrapped up safely in xenonite suits. Heat swirls below the surface, vents working overtime to regulate their internal temperatures.
Above them, a large shape looms. Grace leans over to inspect the two pebbles, chest heaving— Its lungs crackling loudly with each intake of oxygen. Heart thumping against its ribs like a drum. It has been growing out its hair, sections of it falling in long tangles around its face while the rest was pulled back with a bit of string.
Grace had called it a ‘man bun.’ The human thought the new hair made it look sophisticated. Rocky thought the idea of gendering superficial body structures was ridiculous.
They also thought it looked stupid.
Grace’s mane spirals around its shoulders as it drops to all four limbs, cocking its head to the side and displaying its teeth to the young Eridians, “Aw already? We only just started!”
“Tired,” chirps Mary, their stubby little legs kicking uselessly at the air, “rest.” Gracie has since flopped down onto the floor, uttering wordless whistles as puffs of steam exit their vents. “No fair, no fair,” they chirp against the surface the deck. Rocky whistles a soft huff of laughter before turning part of their attention back to the bay window overlooking the stars.
The observation deck was large. Situated high up in Erid’s atmosphere on the space elevator, past the dense atmosphere that blanketed the planet. Rocky had petitioned for and overseen its subsequent construction. Had gone over every meticulous aspect of the plans to ensure it would be pressurized, sealed off, safe for an ephemeral creature not built for this world. It was not exactly easy, and they had pulled every social-political string that they had as one half of Erid’s savior against an onslaught of stuffy inefficient bureaucracy.
The elevator Director of Operations had argued that it would be a waste of space if its intended occupant was not actively living in it year-round. Rocky had wanted to argue that the Director would have a hard time walking if one of their arms was severed and shoved up its orifice, but luckily Adrian had stopped them.
Which was a good thing, really, because bureaucracy eventually won the day.
This far from Erid’s molten core, the gravity on the deck was lesser. Which was the important part of this excursion; it was gravity comparable to Grace’s home planet. The Human Habitat thrum had pumped the deck full of toxic oxygen to allow its free movement, and Grace had populated some of the space with seeded plants salvaged from Mary, using them as a control group for how 2g affected its garden in the bio-dome.
(“I feel so spoiled,” Grace had laughed, setting its hands on its hips and cocking them to the side. “I have my own little high rise for when I get tired of my beach front property.”)
It was a good alternative space to ease the strain on the human’s body, its home away from home, allowing it to move without the added pressure present in the dome. Something that they had all found out very early would be a significant problem.
When they had first delivered Grace to the bio-dome, it had bolted like a thing possessed. All injuries and malnutrition forgotten. Alarmingly fast, long legs sprinting across the sand, every muscle in its body working in perfect tandem for an instinct that had laid dormant in it during their time aboard Mary. As if it were running from the previous four long years where it had been kept in that small confined box.
And then it had collapsed.
Grace had apologized, breathless and fragile but oh so very alive as it had set its recovery back by an entire week. I’m sorry, it was worth it, I’d do it again, I couldn’t help myself. It had only proven that Grace was built for movement; there was an itch for running that was so ancient in its DNA. The gravity in the dome made extended periods of that activity hard— but here on the deck, with several years of acclimation to 2g and in gravity more suited for its biology, the human can jog circles around most.
More importantly, in this environment Grace can jog Rocky and Adrian’s hatchlings right into the ground.
Rocky taps the xenonite to hear them better. They had started this game the moment they were let loose onto the deck, tumbling out of the airlock into a flurry of movement as Grace stomped around in pursuit of two small pebbles. The little Eridians squealing with joy at their favorite game. Adrian was out of town for a business trip, and back on the planet’s surface a day before, Grace had been antsy for a change of scenery— behaving much more like the bundle of exposed raw nerves that it truly was.
(“We could do a boys night on the elevator.”
Grace had been bouncing its knee aggressively where it sat at the table, and Rocky was familiar enough with the behavior to know that it was feeling the need for change. Grace’s life, like everything else about it, was fluid and required constant motion.
It’s eyes glanced out towards its window before turning back to them, “I wanna check on my plants, and I wanna see the stars again.”
The dome lighting techs had since installed star patterns native to Grace’s solar system into the night sky panels, and it expressed its gratitude for that regularly, but the human’s bizarre light-sensing abilities were uncannily perceptive to differences in electromagnetic wavelengths. They must have been weak facsimiles to the real thing.
“We could bring your kiddos.”)
So Grace got its ‘boys night’. Hatchlings included, whether it had come to regret that or not.
The lanky creature sighs and gathers said hatchlings up into its arms, letting out an exaggerated grumble at their added weight. They are still very young; Around seven earth years old, only able to string together a few choice words. Slightly smaller than average— as large as Grace’s outstretched hand. Adrian had fussed over their small size, but Rocky had only ever felt immense joy that the two existed at all. It was not as if they were weak and sickly; they spend half of their time scurrying over every surface and everyone, and the other half sleeping in a boneless heap.
“Tired,” Mary peeps again, tiny legs scrambling against Grace’s shirt, “sleep.”
“Well what if I don’t wanna lay down?” It gestures to Rocky, “your dad can watch.”
“Busy fixing sun lamps.”
“You are not.”
Mary makes an agitated trill, “Graaaᵃ ᵃ ᵃace♩~”
Grace huffs. “Okay! Bossy bossy bossy,”
It heaves another intake of oxygen and drops to the floor, exhausted. “You little monsters are just like your father.”
The human folds its legs over each other as the two little Eridians settle in, Gracie pawing at its middle before snuggling up against it while Mary attempts to get as close to Grace’s heart as possible. It squeezes out a tired chuckle at their efforts to practically crawl into its rib cage.
It is only when the hatchlings have drifted off into motionless sleep does Grace double over, the muscle fibers of its diaphragm snapping as it pants heavily. It lowers Gracie and Mary to the quilt on the floor before joining them, clumsily flopping over onto its back, a hand slung over its middle.
“Oh god my heart,” Grace sucks in a breath, splayed out on the fabric, “Oh my god… I might die.”
“Will not die.” Death will have to pry this creature from Rocky’s cold unmoving claws, but they tap gently at its chest just to make sure. Surely its organs are not straining that hard.
Grace hisses through its teeth, “I’m gettin’ old, Rock. I mean, my body is. This dang gravity.”
“Must not be that old. Still beat hatchlings at tag.”
The human lets out a reedy chuckle, “I’m six feet tall, they’re like eight inches. It’s a little unfair.”
“Would also not be so out of breath if didn’t waste it talking to Gracie and Mary.”
“I can’t show weakness, Rock. They can smell fear.”
Rocky pokes at its nose, “Grace is only organism on Erid that can smell.”
It waves their hand away, “you know what I mean.”
The Eridian trills a soft tone, curling their legs underneath of their body as they settle down next to Grace’s head, willing themselves to ignore the beads of liquid plastering its hair to its skin.
“Done playing with hatchlings, question? Marathon of Strek Trek with our names on it, statement.”
The human snorts, “you know it, buddy.” Its body seizes up into a languid stretch, joints popping and bands of muscle slipping over each other before relaxing and turning back towards the hatchlings. “They’re so funny. Mean, too. Weirdly insistent when it comes to napping on top of me,” Grace scratches at its throat, nails scraping noisily against its thin skin, “why do you think that is?”
“Trust you.”
“Well yeah, but they trust you too. And Adrian. They always cling to me the most when it’s time to sleep. What’s the variable, here?”
Rocky taps the floor in thought. The hatchlings routinely sought out their parents for comfort; that was a given. But when offered the chance they more often than not scrambled to curl into the soft edges of their favorite human.
Perhaps it was the novelty. This strange thing that stood so tall and prominently in their young minds— utterly alien and achingly familiar all at once.
“You are very large. Soft. Can wake up at will. Good for watching hatchlings. Incredibly alert, feels safe.”
Grace squeezes out a wet chuckle, thick with emotion before suddenly falling silent. Its mouth does that strange up-down up-down movement, like it’s trying to figure out if it’s perplexed or amused. “Wait a minute—“ The human flops on its side to face them.
“Rock, that almost sounds like I’m your kids’ \.\\.”
“New word.”
“Uh… companion animal.”
What?
“Companion… Animal, question?” Rocky tilts their carapace in that learned way they have developed. A language of two.
“Do not understand. Animal that is not prey, question?”
The human’s eyelids widen. “Oh my god, you guys don’t have //.///…//.//.//./ here.”
Rocky can feel exasperation bubble underneath their carapace. “Too many new words, Grace. One at a time.”
Grace holds its hands up. “Okay okay. Uh. //.///…//.//.//./ is the process of taming wild animals or plants and changing them over generations to better suit specific needs. Breeding them selectively, in the same way that we bred the Taumoeba to become nitrogen resistant.”
“Humans have domesticated and lived alongside several other animal species in our evolutionary history. It’s a symbiotic relationship: humans provided food, safety and shelter and the animals provided food, safety and well… companionship.”
“\.\\. are one of those animals. D-o-g. Dogs. They’ve been living with humans for like, thousands of years I think. It’s been a long time. Coevolution, it’s called. That’s how long our species have been with each other.” The expression that Grace wears is wistful, its mouth curling up at the edges.
Rocky is only slightly bewildered.
Humans were social enough to willingly let other species cohabitate with them? Encouraged it, even?
It struck Rocky as bizarre, though they suppose that their only practical frame of reference for the entire species was Grace, and Grace was in truth a solitary and moody thing— by Eridian standards. Prone to intense emotional swings. Grace became aggressive when coddled, leaky when happy. Clingy one moment and then aloof the next. It would sulk and sequester itself away to nurse its mangled psyche for days on end during the return trip. Alone and skittish.
Eridians, they had both found out, were much more communal in certain ways. Living in large colonies and in constant proximity to each other. Observing each other sleep, commonly forming interconnected groups of mated individuals. Thrumming to match emotional frequencies. Ideally, an Eridian was never alone for long. Compared to the social behavior Grace exhibited, which was that of a wounded animal at its worst and a manic -if slightly antisocial- Eridian at its best, it was downright smothering.
It was something that they had both worked on to meet each other halfway, while aboard the Hail Mary. At their first point of contact, Rocky had just thanked whatever nonexistent god was watching that they had found a sapient creature willing to tolerate pack bonding. Any port in a storm, as Grace had once said.
Rocky had assumed that Grace was a standard example of its species.
Perhaps it was more of a social deviant.
Not that Rocky minds. They love Grace just the way it is, and they themselves had plummeted off of that particular cliff of social standards many many years ago. Space, and the crushing isolation that had come with it, had changed them. There was no going back.
Still— to find out that humans as a species were social to the point of cultivating minimum-gain symbiotic relationships, whereas Eridians did not, felt strange.
What was the difference? Rocky rubs two of their legs together in thought. “Perhaps, because humans are not true apex predators without tools, humans adapted other life forms to human needs to survive?”
Eridians were higher on the food chain in their respective environment compared to humans, being true obligate carnivores. Evolving tight knit social structures for safety in their vulnerable moments of sleep. There wasn’t much need to bring another organism into the mix. It was inefficient.
Grace laughs, its head splitting with a wide smile— giddy over its impromptu teaching lesson. “There ya go! A lot of human scientists hypothesize the same thing.” It cocks its head to the side, deep in thought as Rocky feels a surge of affection for its willingness to share knowledge.
“But anyways. Dogs. Dogs are great,” Grace rests its head on one hand, “we bred them from a type of predator called a \\.\\. w-o-l-f. Nowadays, they look and act a lot different from their ancestors, and we’ve bred them for a variety of reasons; from filling a specific job to companionship.”
Grace’s features soften, and it turns its head towards the ceiling. There is a far away quality in the way it holds its body, as if it were reliving one of its many missing memories.
“My family had a dog when I was little. Her name was Maize and she had gold fur. She wasn’t a working dog— just one for companionship. I loved Maize. I used to sneak into her bed at night, when I had nightmares or was too afraid to sleep.”
It squints, “She died when I was in college, and I never got to say goodbye.”
Grace stops speaking, and Rocky now knows where the comparison lies.
They sidle up next to their alien companion, settling down and leaning against its flank. Listening to the ribs in its chest shift with each breath— membranes and fascia and tendons joining together in strange organic song.
“You know that you are more important than companion animal, question?”
Grace chuckles, the sound somehow full of warmth and incredibly dry, “yeah I know that, you big softie,” it elbows the Eridian’s suit before turning back to the ceiling.
“It’s just where my mind went first.”
Rocky clicks their claws together in thought.
Did Grace feel like a confined animal? Perhaps it was to be expected; the human had gone from one enclosed space to another. One with a more appealing wrapper, perhaps, but fundamentally no different. The human would never be free to go where it pleased, and it would stay that way until the day it died.
And the last thing that Rocky wants is for Grace to feel like a captive plaything for themselves or their offspring.
They tell it as much, and Grace jumps to attention far faster than it needs to. “What? No!”
“Thought you felt like guard animal? Feels degrading?”
“I don’t! I promise! But Rock, I also don’t think you understand. I don’t care if Gracie and Mary do think of me as some weird alien dog! It doesn’t matter! I just want them to be happy. I love your kids so much that holding them while they sleep is like taking a hit of MDMA for me. I love them so much I get cuteness aggression.”
“What is that phrase, question?”
“Uhm,” Grace vibrates low in its throat, “MDMA is—“
“Grace has told Rocky of college days; don’t play dumb. The other phrase.”
It’s fidgeting, as if it has been caught doing something wrong, “just, ya know. When you see something so cute you wanna grab it and squeeze it till it pops. Anyways—“
“What.”
“… Okay yeah so it sounds like you guys don’t experience that, huh?”
“What??”
“It’s a perfectly normal human instinct, I promise—“
“Instinct?? Why would you have that response??
“It’s uh—“
“Do you cull your young, question??”
“No no no! Wait!” Grace pushes its glasses down to pinch the top of its nose, “oh my god I am so bad at this first contact thing.”
The human flops back to the quilt, pawing at its lower jaw in thought before swiveling its head back towards Rocky.
“… We talked about child-rearing instincts, right?”
“Yes. Necessary for close familial bonds and complex social structures. Necessary for continuation of species. Eridians have this too,” Rocky points a limb at Grace, “but what is that?”
“Well I hypothesize that… maybe, in a broad overarching sense, human reaction to these instincts might be a bit more… intense?”
“So intense you want to crush them?? Is that not counterproductive, question?”
Grace raises its shoulders in a shrug, its mane of hair falling around its face. “Humans usually only experience a litter size of one, and when your reproduction rate is that low it’s more beneficial to pour all of your energy and resources into raising whatever pops out. As a result the instinct to parent is kicked up a crazy amount, and it bleeds onto other species. Even inanimate objects! You slap features that tick those cute feelings on anything and human brains release a flood of oxytocin so huge it also releases vasopressin to balance out the emotions.”
“What I’m saying is— I am so biologically incentivized to wanna care for your kids that my brain trips over itself sometimes.”
The answer is so equally parts charming and concerning that it disarms Rocky completely. Of course Grace would harbor such strange instincts; when had it ever settled for being predictable?
Humans are so biologically and socially paradoxical. It made Rocky’s mind spin. But perhaps being a strange halfway prey animal-turned-apex predator on an irradiated world where everything else was trying to kill them had made that necessary. Even the o2 molecules they breathe are trying to rip their cells apart.
Rocky shakes themselves out of their reverie, attention turning back to Gracie and Mary nestled against the human’s stomach. Its diaphragm pressing softly against them every time it breathed.
Grace had never shown aggression towards their young, or any of its students for that matter. On the contrary, the human’s patience seemed to deepen into a bottomless well of care when it came to interacting with children. Rocky was certain that it would sooner chew its own hand off than raise it against any of them.
Rocky leans in towards the human laying on the ground, a pointless gesture that they had picked up to signal to Grace that it had their undivided attention. “You do not want to squeeze my hatchlings, question.”
Its eyes shift to the side. “Only a little. A non lethal amount—“
“Grace—“
“It’s a bizarre evolutionary hiccup in my squishy hormone-based meat brain and I would never hurt them,” Grace raises a hand, two digits held straight, “Scout’s honor.”
Rocky nods once, satisfied. “Good. You could not injure them anyways even if you tried. With your weak little body, statement.”
“Hey I— ya know what, never mind. Put on the dang Star Trek, already.”
“The first astronaut was a dog, ya know.”
Grace is still in one of its moods. It permeates the air between them, as it often does— soft vibrations of tension that buzz against Rocky’s carapace. The human is leaning a shoulder against the observation window and staring out into the vastness of space, Gracie and Mary still tucked into its lap.
Rocky sets their bulb filament project down to join it.
Grace does not turn its head to acknowledge them, eyes fixed on a single point. “When we were first testing out rockets, we needed to see if something could survive.”
“Her name was Laika. She was a stray with no owner— something expendable, ya know? Nothing anyone would miss. So they strapped her to a rocket and sent her off into space. No return plan needed.”
It pulls at a loose string on its jumpsuit. “Our shining lady of one way tickets.”
Grace rumbles deep in its throat, and Rocky can hear the noise become ragged with emotion. Its arms squeeze the hatchlings closer to its chest. “There were a few times aboard Mary where I got a little too existential with it. I thought ‘hey, when I die out here maybe my ghost can wander around the cosmos a bit and find Laika. She’s been up here for so long, she must be so lonely.’”
“I thought maybe I could find her, and I could say sorry— for what we did to her. How she suffered. Tell her that I knew the feeling, and then we could sit side by side again. The way it always has been for our species. Two Earthlings hangin’ out till the inevitable heat death of the universe.”
It falls silent.
Rocky croons softly, and motions to let them sit next to its slumped form. Grace is as obedient as ever, pulling its long legs towards its torso to give them space.
“You are not alone. Not anymore,” Rocky gestures to the planet below them, and they brace themselves for what they say next. It was never easy thinking about this, and even harder to speak of it.
But they will do it to remind Grace that it is loved.
“All of Erid will keep vigil when you fall into your last sleep. An entire planet will miss you.”
“I will miss you. Adrian, our children. You are family, you will be treated as such, if you will have it. There will be more than the dog to watch you.”
Grace sniffles, and makes an effort to swallow its emotions back down. It’s a mixed result, and eventually it flashes them a mouthful of teeth, skin crinkling around its nose and corners of its watery eyes, “Are you gonna bury me in your family plot? Put a little stone marker there with an engraving?” The human holds its arms out as if framing it in its mind, “‘here lies Grace: he was a good boy.’”
“Not putting that on your grave stone.”
“Spoilsport.”
They fall into companionable silence again, Grace turned to watch the stars before swiveling it’s head back to fix its attention on Rocky.
“I would’ve been the best guard ever if we had evolved side by side, just so ya know.”
Grace presses a hand to his chest, digits splayed out over its heart. Smiling with exaggerated fake smugness.
“I would’ve been sooooo good at waking up to defend your burrow from other predators, using my depth perception and long limbs to throw things at them. I would’ve gotten a perfect grade in making myself big and intimidating and yelling at things until they ran away.”
Rocky trills softly, amused. “Yes yes. And I would build good shelter for you. Our species would rule the world together.”
“Your mind paints such a beautiful picture, I wanna live in it.”
And Rocky only gestures to the observation deck around them; the plants in their pots and the UV lights. Gracie and Mary tucked softly against its side, sleeping as if there was never a moment of fear in their lives. The human blinks dumbly at its companion before things finally click into place.
It throws its head back, jaws open, barking with laughter.