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The farther they get into their journey to Erid, the less there is to do. Grace wasn’t aware just how much he was relying on his projects and tasks to keep him going, but as his responsibilities wind down, the aches in his body wind up. He settles back in his bed and winces as he stretches a leg out and feels the answering shock of pain in his knee.
“Grace okay, question?”
His alien roommate is far too perceptive for a creature that doesn’t have eyes.
“I’m okay. Just sore,” Grace replies. He’s not stupid. When he turned back to save Rocky, he knew that his food would run out eventually. He made his sacrifice. When things had settled and he and Rocky had started their journey to Erid on the Hail Mary, he had looked up all the symptoms of malnutrition and starvation and started a detailed log. Some might call it masochistic to track his own decline in such detail, but Grace is a scientist, and even his own deteriorating body is interesting. He hopes he will live long enough to make it to Erid and see Rocky’s home planet saved, but they still have around a year left in their journey, and his rations are dwindling quickly.
“Grace sore more often now.”
“And it’ll only get worse,” Grace replies. He tips his chin up to look at the same grey ceiling that he’s been staring at for years now and wonders if it will be the last thing he sees. He knows that at some point in his future, even getting out of bed will be a struggle. He’s rapidly hurtling towards the day that he might get out of bed for the last time.
“Eridian scientists will make nutrients for Grace,” Rocky says simply. He’s perched in his tunnel above Grace’s cot, fiddling with some component that Grace is sixty percent sure requires no fiddling. They both skirt extreme boredom most days, and Rocky is just as much of a workaholic as Grace is.
Grace props his head on his folded arms and gives Rocky his full attention. “I’m sure they will.”
“There will be largest thrum since Astrophage problem. Grace save Erid. Erid will return favor.”
Grace appreciates Rocky’s confidence. He’s not sure he’d have that same confidence in humanity were their positions reversed, but from what Rocky has told him about Eridians, their politics are less complicated—they’re a more communal society that is much better at putting their differences aside to achieve important goals. Grace thinks briefly of Stratt, but he pushes the thought aside quickly. His feelings for her are complicated, and he’s not eager to get tangled in them now. Maybe ever.
“Tell me about the thrum again,” Grace says. Rocky has explained it before—hundreds of Eridians singing in tandem to come up with solutions to difficult problems—but the concept is so foreign that it’s difficult for Grace’s mind to wrap around exactly how it works.
“Hard to explain. Easier for Grace to experience when we reach Erid.”
Grace reaches out and taps gently on the xenonite barrier. “Humor me.” He doesn’t tell Rocky how unsure he is that he’ll even reach Erid. He doesn’t want to kill the mood.
Rocky trills in the put-upon way that Grace knows is a fabrication for Grace’s benefit and begins explaining the fascinating concept of an Eridian thrum, and Grace settles more comfortably into his blankets. At this point, they’ve almost stopped using the translator entirely, and Grace gets to enjoy the musical sound of Rocky’s voice unimpeded. He wonders when the sound of it became more natural than the sound of a human voice. He knows his own speech patterns have changed to accommodate communication with Rocky and wonders how odd he’d sound to other humans now. He wonders if the same goes for Rocky and other Eridians. He hopes he gets a chance to find out.
“Why should Rocky waste time explaining if Grace is just going to fall asleep?”
Grace blinks and resurfaces groggily. “Sorry, bud. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
There’s a quiet moment where Rocky hesitates on something, but the moment passes, and Rocky says, “Grace sleep. Rocky will be here.”
Grace sighs. “Thanks, Rock.”
As the days wind onward, sleep becomes more elusive. His joints ache, and his stomach churns, and when he does sleep, he begins having nightmares. He was never prone to nightmares before, but they plague him almost nightly now. Explaining nightmares to Rocky had been a difficult one.
“Why human brain torment you, question?” Rocky asks one morning when Grace wakes up sweating and panting. “Not helpful.” This is not the first time they’ve had a conversation like this, but Rocky remains baffled by the concept of dreams.
Grace drags a hand back through his damp hair. “I dunno. They say dreams are a sign of your brain processing while you’re asleep, but they’ve never nailed down exactly why you dream about certain things. I agree that nightmares are pretty unhelpful, and I’d love to stop having them.”
“Human body so inefficient."
Grace huffs a tired laugh. “It sure can be.” His body is feeling more and more inefficient each day, but he can’t blame it when it’s lacking so many of the nutrients it needs.
Rocky moves closer and taps his claws against the barrier. Getting a better read on Grace’s expression, Grace thinks. “Grace have hard time remembering that the mission didn’t fail when asleep.”
Grace exhales and sits up. “There’s so much that could have gone wrong. We both almost died a few times.”
“But we are not dead.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Lucky for Grace, Rocky is happy to remind him we are safe after nightmares.”
Rocky’s bedside manner is a bit abrupt, but Grace wouldn’t have it any other way. “Very lucky for Grace,” he replies.
Not for the first time, Grace wishes he could reach out and touch Rocky, to anchor him in reality. He settles for pressing his hand against the warm xenonite barrier where Rocky’s hand is pressed on the other side. It will have to do.
Grace works on his English/Eridian dictionary, adds details to his health journal, and tries not to get too lost in the math of his dwindling food supply. It’s hard not to when there’s so little else to do. Even at the best of times, he’s never done well without distractions. This isn’t the best of times.
“Why Grace upset, question?”
Grace looks up, startled, and then chastises himself for letting Rocky startle him. He sniffles and tries to pull himself together. “I just finished the last of the coffee.”
Rocky lifts himself up on his legs in a way that usually means he’s eager. “Erid will make coffee for Grace! Easy easy easy.” Rocky has been spending long hours scrolling through all the information stored on the computer Grace gave him, intent on being an expert on human biology by the time they reach Erid. Rocky is the smartest person Grace has ever met, but he’s not a biologist, and Grace wonders how many of his promises are overconfident. He trusts Rocky with his life, but he also knows his survival sits on a knife’s edge.
“We’re still a long way from Erid,” Grace replies. He’s feeling morose. There’s been a low-level headache sitting behind his eyes for days now, and exhaustion is really starting to take hold. That, combined with the end of his supply of coffee, has him wanting to curl up in the dorm and hide from reality.
“Not long. Less than one Earth year.”
Grace slumps forward and stares down at the empty bag of coffee. He squeezed as much of it out as he could, and now there isn’t even a drop left inside. There are a few drops stored with the rest of the food they plan to give to the Eridian scientists to help them synthesize nutrients for Grace, carefully locked away so Grace doesn’t get any ideas in his desperation, but this is the last Earth coffee he will ever taste.
Grace made his sacrifice, but every once in a while, something new snags at him and forces him to confront the choice he made in new detail.
“What if it doesn’t work?” Grace asks softly. “I don’t exactly have forever to wait.”
Rocky makes a hissing noise and moves closer in his tunnel. “Will work. Must work.”
A single tear rolls down Grace’s nose and hits the plastic pouch. He shakes his head.
“Is Grace giving up?” Rocky asks with a low rumble in his voice. “Grace is brave, Grace is determined. Grace saved Rocky, and now Rocky and Erid will save Grace!” He stomps once for emphasis.
“I’m not giving up. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” Grace’s voice is strangled, and tears swim in his vision. He’s a mess. “I knew what I was sacrificing when I turned around. I just want you to know that even if you can’t save me, it’s okay—”
“Grace is stupid! Grace is dramatic and stupid and will stop talking like this.”
Grace is fully crying now, like the leaky, dramatic human he is. It makes his headache so much worse, but he can’t stop. He’s not even entirely upset about himself. He’s upset about Rocky’s hopefulness, about being the next friend that Rocky will watch die with no way to fix it. He doesn’t want to do that to Rocky. He is, of course, also upset about himself. Being prepared to die and facing the horrible signs of it coming your way are two very different things.
He’s aware of Rocky observing him, and it suddenly chafes in a way it rarely does. “Can I—um.” He clears his throat. “You don’t need to see me like this,” he says. “Go back to the lab, and I’ll pull myself together.” He drags a hand across his cheek. “We can watch a movie later.”
Rocky’s carapace tilts towards the floor. “Grace want to be alone, question?”
“Yeah, bud. I need a little alone time.” He says it more sharply than he means to, but he doesn’t take it back.
Even without a face, it’s easy to tell that Grace has hurt Rocky’s feelings. He knows him well enough now to recognize the tilt of his arms and the low hum of discontent he makes. Grace hates it, but he also feels the desire to isolate crawling on his skin like ants.
Rocky’s claws clink against the xenonite as he leaves Grace alone in the dormitory, and Grace slumps back against the wall with a low groan. Grace is so happy that Rocky is with him—Rocky gave his life meaning and direction, and despite their differences, he’s never felt closer to anyone. Even a relationship like that can chafe during times of crises, and Grace has never been this sick before. He’s not sure how to handle it. He doesn’t want to push Rocky away, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s scared and vulnerable and embarrassed.
He begins bruising more easily, and one day his mouth begins to ache and then doesn’t stop. Grace distracts himself with movies and games and questions about Eridian culture that Rocky happily answers, but it can’t mask the ever-increasing symptoms. On the day that he consumes the last of his solid food that isn’t coma slurry, he curls up in the quilt and huddles in the dormitory instead of making himself get up and find something to do.
Rocky senses his mood and doesn’t talk, but he does stay with Grace, tinkering with his own project and keeping Grace company.
“You know I appreciate that you’re here with me,” Grace says softly. “Even if I’m sometimes a jerk.”
“I know. Rocky appreciates Grace’s company too.”
Grace sniffles and presses his forehead to his knees. After a few minutes, Grace notices that Rocky is making a low humming noise that settles deep in his bones. His heart, which he didn’t notice was racing, eases into a calmer rhythm. Some of the tension leeches from his shoulders. Grace looks up to see that Rocky has settled close to the barrier of his tunnel.
“Rocky wish he could hug Grace,” Rocky says in a low tone, over the quiet humming. “Rocky would give comfort like other humans.”
Grace sniffs and shuffles closer to the tunnel. “What’s that noise you’re making?”
“Used to comfort young Eridians when afraid.”
Grace cracks a grin at that. “Treating me like a baby?”
“Baby Eridians easier to care for than Grace.”
“Ouch,” Grace says with a laugh. He sits tucked up against the tunnel, with Rocky settled close on the other side. The barrier has never felt thicker than it does now. He presses a thumb against the spot where Rocky’s hand rests. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I don’t want you to think I’m giving up, or that I think you’re not capable of helping me. I don’t want to get my own hopes up, and I don’t want you to be surprised if we’re not… quick enough.”
“Understand,” Rocky replies softly. “Rocky doesn’t like to think of Grace dying. Rocky wishes it was easy to fix.”
“Me too, bud.”
They sit pressed against the xenonite, and Grace wonders if the universe will give him one more miracle. It would be so cruel to let them find each other and survive every trial up until now, only for Grace to die of malnutrition. Even sitting side-by-side as they are now is a miracle, and Grace can’t fathom it being tugged from his hands before he’s had a chance to really savor it.
The Taumoeba provides some calories and keeps him from wasting away, but it has none of the vitamins that he needs, and on top of that, it’s disgusting. Most of the time, he manages to keep the sludge down, but on the worst mornings, it comes right back up. Thankfully, their supply of Taumoeba won’t run out like the rest of Grace’s food. It doesn’t make it any less of a nightmare, though.
“You don’t have to be here for this,” Grace rasps with his face resting on the hard plastic of the toilet seat. “I know you find it disgusting. It’s disgusting for humans, and we’re used to all the fluids.”
“Rocky will stay for Grace. Moral support.”
Grace swipes the back of his hand over his mouth and sits up. “If you’re sure.” He’s covered in a thin layer of sweat, and there’s a shivery feeling camped in his chest that he thinks might be permanent.
“Rocky sure. Always sure with Grace.”
If only Grace knew what to do with this kind of friendship. Right now, he’ll just accept it.
“Thanks, Rock.”
They are a month out from Erid, and he’s always cold now. He bundles up in all the knitwear on the Hail Mary and tosses the quilt over his shoulders for good measure, but the chill still seeps in. He’s lost a good fraction of muscle mass, and his appetite has scarpered. The thought of food only turns his stomach, and the Taumoeba remain as unappetizing as they always were.
He has a much harder time getting out of bed, and many days, he simply doesn’t. After one too many falls, Rocky encouraged (ordered) Grace to move his mattress to the floor of the dormitory, and now, Rocky often watches Grace sleep from inside his ball instead of the tunnels. It allows him to tuck up close to Grace’s side and share some of his warmth through the xenonite. Grace curls around the xenonite and imagines he’s touching Rocky. It’s not enough, but Grace will take what he can get.
He wants more than anything to touch Rocky. His skin aches with the desire. It has superseded the desire for food, now that his appetite has abandoned him. His joints feel like they are full of knives, his heartbeat is irregular, his teeth are loose in his mouth, and he wants to hug his alien friend.
“Rocky is sorry that Grace feel bad,” Rocky says one night when Grace is particularly listless. “Sorry that Grace feel bad when we make contact with Erid. Wish for Grace to get best impression of Rocky home.”
Grace tucks his face close against the warm xenonite. Rocky no longer complains about Grace’s need for closeness. Sometimes, it seems to Grace like Rocky is also seeking it out, has learned to want it.
Grace’s exhale briefly fogs up the outside of the ball. “Me too.”
Rocky’s claw scrapes against the xenonite close to Grace’s cheek, and Grace shivers. Rocky is full of tension, and his claws click in that specific way that means he’s hesitant or nervous.
“What’s on your mind?” Grace asks.
There is a heavy pause before Rocky answers. “Grace know Rocky love him, question?”
Grace’s breath stutters in his chest. He’s sufficiently distracted from his own misery now. He swallows around a dry tongue. “You love me?”
“Yes. Rocky love Grace.”
Grace smiles and presses his cheek more firmly against the xenonite. “I love you too, Rocky.” It's surprisingly easy to admit.
“Grace is not well now, but when Grace is better, Rocky will show Grace.”
Grace grins, closed-mouth like he’s been doing since his teeth started bothering him. “Show me what?”
“Show Grace full extent of love. Not enough xenonite on ship, but Rocky is making plans for a suit instead of a ball. Would like to hug Grace. Other things.”
Grace’s heart flutters, and Rocky chirps unhappily like he does every time Grace’s heartbeat goes wonky.
“Grace okay?”
“That was a good flutter, buddy.” He presses his fingers against the ball, and Rocky’s fingers press back. “You better keep your promise.” Desire is a long way away in his current state, but he knows he loves Rocky, and back when he was in better shape, there were definitely a few moments when he wondered what else they could share. Grace wouldn’t call himself adventurous by nature, but he also wouldn’t have imagined himself in this situation in the first place. In the grand scheme of it all, falling in love with his alien best friend seems like one of the more reasonable things that’s happened to him.
“As long as Grace tries hard to get better.”
Grace screws his eyes shut. “I will.”
It’s his last lucid moment for a while.
There is a hand in his hair. It’s warm, and it drags in even passes, and the sensation is so calming and nice that it has tears prickling in the corners of Grace’s eyes. He’s warm all over. It’s been so long since he’s been this warm.
“Grace?”
The musical notes are familiar and grounding. He’s safe, wherever he is. Memories of waking up alone and confused float through his head, but they can’t touch him here. He’s not alone. He hasn’t been alone in a long time.
“Grace awake.” The hand in his hair leaves, and Grace makes a sound of protest.
Grace blinks, and an unfamiliar ceiling comes into focus. It’s metallic and made of an uneven swirl of browns and greys. Eridian. Suspended above him is the grey and white plastic of his nanny bot, hovering expectantly. He’s surprised the arm hasn’t leapt into action at the sign of eye movement.
He realizes a moment later why he’s so warm. There is an arm draped across his chest, and a very familiar carapace tucked against his ribcage. “Rocky?” He experiences a moment of clammy fear before noticing the play of light on Rocky’s carapace. He’s wearing a fancy, fitted xenonite suit.
Grace’s first desire is to bask in the feeling of being cuddled up against Rocky like this, but his instincts encourage him to examine the room around him.
The lights above his head were scavenged from the Hail Mary. In fact, a lot of what Grace sees around him seems to have come from his ship, including the mattress under his back. He can hear the hum of environmental controls. There’s an oxygen mask on his face.
“Temporary room for Grace while thrum works up design for larger habitat.”
This close, Grace can feel the vibration of Rocky’s words against his chest, and it pulls his attention from the room and back to Rocky. “Are we on Erid?”
“Yes. Reached Erid two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks?” Grace blinks. There’s an IV in his arm that he only just noticed. He pulls the oxygen mask off his face and tosses it aside.
“We have synthesized some Earth nutrients. Use robot to send through IV. Enough to get Grace lucid again. Still working on others. Slow so Grace doesn’t get ill from too much at once.”
He feels like hell, but it’s less like he’s teetering on the edge of a chasm and more like he slept for two solid weeks and is just resurfacing. His teeth hurt less. Maybe Vitamin C was one of the few nutrients they managed.
“I can’t believe I missed first contact with Erid.”
Rocky’s hand returns to Grace’s hair, and Grace relaxes again.
“You missed much, but is okay. You will have time to see Erid, meet other Eridians. Many Eridians would like to meet savior of Erid. Rocky tell them to keep distance until Grace healthy again.”
Grace hums and closes his eyes. “Thanks, Rock.”
“Grace will live.”
“Yeah?”
“Grace did not believe Rocky when Rocky say Eridian scientists would make nutrients for Grace. Rocky was not wrong.”
Grace sniffs. Tears are prickling his eyes again. “I should know better than to doubt you.”
“Yes.”
Grace turns sideways, careful of the IV, and curls his body around Rocky. Rocky trills and tightens his arm around Grace’s back. His other hand continues to pet through Grace’s hair.
There are so many questions Grace wants to ask—about Erid, about Rocky, about their future, about the status of Erid’s sun—but his brain is foggy, and they’ll have time for all that later. Grace isn’t out of the woods, he knows that, but he’s letting himself rely on Rocky’s confidence. It feels good to let someone else take care of him, at least for a little while. It will also feel good when it’s all over. Right now, he’s just happy Rocky is here with him.
He leans forward and presses his lips to the top curve of Rocky’s carapace and marvels at the slight give of the xenonite suit and the heat.
“Grace give Rocky a kiss, question?”
They watched a lot of movies on their trip to Erid, and Rocky spent his free time trawling Wikipedia, so Rocky knows more about human behavior than he did before they reunited. It makes this easier.
“Yeah, Rocky, I kissed you.”
Another of Rocky’s hands lifts and traces gently down his cheek and then across his lips. It’s so warm. Grace’s heart seizes in his chest, and he closes his eyes.
“Grace get better, and then Rocky will show Eridian affection. Need Grace well and strong.”
Grace releases a wet laugh even as his face warms and a weak pulse of want clenches his stomach. “Well, then I'd better work on that, huh?”
Rocky’s claws scratch across his scalp, and Rocky trills happily. “Grace will not do it alone.”
Grace presses his forehead against the top of Rocky’s carapace and hums. Rocky’s arm tightens around him, not enough to hurt, but enough for the pressure to feel solid and real. He’s never felt less alone in his life.