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The thought came before Rocky was fully aware of it.
Grace was sleeping, as per usual. It needed to sleep a lot more than themself.
Taking note of the time, the ever ticking clock that they brought into the Hail Mary, the one that they showed when they were first starting to communicate, it fell asleep… early.
Grace explained it a little bit ago. It didn't sleep as well one night, so it was a bit sleep deprived.
Essentially, sleep debt. It compounds the less humans sleep, and it must be made up.
Eridians didn’t really have a name for it, seeing as it's almost impossible for them to wake up once they're asleep. They suppose that, if an Eridian put off sleeping for a while, they would shut down for longer to recuperate. Sleep is healing, and gives the body more time to mend itself, which may happen when sleep is missing. However, it was rare that an Eridian would put off sleep, considering the importance of watching others sleep. It was a bit horrifying listening to Grace speak about the routine all-nighters humans would pull, almost making a competition of how little hours they would sleep.
That being said, Grace was exhausted. It did the thing where it placed its elbow on the table and used it to prop up its head. It's head would drop down slightly, eyes falling closed before raising it again in an attempt to stay awake.
It took Rocky a few rams into Grace's leg to get it to go to bed, especially when it insisted that the rams helped keep it awake. Finally, they managed to get Grace to stumble towards the dormitory to finally fall asleep. Rocky promised to keep watch from their ball, to which it let out an unhearing hum before promptly sleeping.
Grace spoke about it after their incident at Adrian, asking questions about Eridian sleep and healing. Eridians do, essentially, shut down when sleeping. Very softly, at tones that humans cannot hear, do they push air out of their vents. In human measurements, they only do it once every 10 minutes or so.
Really, it's how they knew their crew was dying. Rocky was patient, measuring how long it took for each breath to occur, tapping their foot to the time. They didn't take in another breath.
They knew, distantly, that it was coming. Their tough exteriors had become brittle, chipping and flaking off. This meant the air that pushed through their limbs to help them move was oftentimes pushed out from their carapace. They stopped moving frequently, they slept often. It is not normal.
It is not normal for humans, either, to be so fatigued and tired. Parts of Grace had begun to fall out, the texture upon its head shedding more than usual (a few strands, Grace had said, is not cause of concern and is common). It was not an effect of radiation poisoning, it had explained, walking Rocky through the ship and explaining the design that accounted for the radiation. It was rather a simpler cause, starvation.
It, like their crew mates, insisted that it was fine, and that it would pass once they returned to Erid.
Rocky didn't like comparing their crew mates to Grace. Their crew… 22 families would not see their loved ones ever again. Being the only one who survived, it was up to them to break the news to all.
Selfishly, they hoped Grace would be there. Unlikely, as it was incompatible with their atmosphere, but they don't think they'll be able to hear the mournful tones of their families. They've already mourned, but hearing those tones that once echoed back to them in that expansive ship…
They tapped their claws against their xenonite ball. The room became more focused, Grace's body more distinct. They could hear its insides, shifting, pulsing. Its heart is slower than its waking heartbeat, as it takes less energy to sleep; still, its heart is slower than it should. Malnutrition, the body is trying to maintain as much energy as possible.
Air billows out of their vents harshly. Their mercury insides burn and shift. They tap their xenonite once more, watching.
They don't want to compare Grace to their crew mates, but the thought does not seem to leave their mind. And here it sits, watching their friend fade away from something so perfectly simple and avoidable. They can't do anything, they've never been able to do anything.
How, out of everyone in their crew, did the engineer survive? If it wasn't for Grace, they still probably would've been floating in the Tau Ceti system, waiting as their home slowly ceased to exist.
Grace is ceasing to exist, now. Their friend, their crew mate, a just as deserving savior of Erid, wasting away because Rocky can't do anything.
The room comes into focus, yet they could not focus on a single aspect. “Bright” would be what they would call it if they were human. Their limbs had stopped tapping minutes ago, yet the room doesn't stop defining itself in crisp detail. It's too much.
Distantly, they see Grace curl in on itself before shooting upwards to look towards them.
“Mary, lights on,” a sound reverberates, bringing the room into a clearer focus. It places its hands on its ears, the hearing organs of a human.
“Rocky? Rocky talk to me.” Grace kneels down in front of their ball, hands not leaving its ears.
Rocky could not push air through their vents, the airways feel blocked. Their limbs scrunch into themself, locking into place.
Distantly, the awareness of what is happening is not lost on Rocky. Evolutionarily speaking, they are not the fastest of the creatures on Erid. There were predators that hunted Eridians like themself. Humans had fight-or-flight, as Grace had explained. For Eridians, their survival tactic was to freeze. On Erid, they blended into the environment so well that a predator could not see them if they froze against a mountain.
Their legs were tight against their bodies, able to push down quickly and jump out of the way of the predator if need be, not to their sides as they slept or underneath their body when they're relaxing, as Grace would put it, loafing.
They could not whistle or sing to understand their predator's location, as that would alert them to where they were camouflaged. Instead, they would whistle in a very high pitch, higher than most predators could hear. It would hurt them, too, leaving to go find a better meal.
It's higher than what humans can hear, too.
And yet, Rocky can't bring themselves to stop.
And Rocky knows they are hurting their friend.
Higher sounds have higher frequencies, meaning more sound waves hitting the objects and coming back to them. They can see the worry in Grace's face, one eye closed in a pinched expression.
They can't move, pinned down. It's just like Adrian. It's just like Adrian. They can't do anything.
“Saaaafe,” they hear in melodic tones. The room fades momentarily. “Heaaarr,” that's a weird one, but sure. It mumbles “No, that's not the right one," before continuing. “Guraaaace hereee.”
The room fades away as the hums highlight the alien in front of them. It's Grace, lips pursed, and yet sounds come out. Its pronunciation is juvenile and odd, which makes sense considering that humans do not have the bodies for the songs of Eridians. Tentatively, its hands leave its ears.
Rocky still cannot move, cannot speak. Still, Grace continues on.
“Saaaafe. Heeere. Heeelfy.” Grace taps against the xenonite, right where their claw is.
It continues droning in soft hums as they wrestle their limbs back to control. Steam passes through them, reaching their limbs as they unlink from their body. They tap the xenonite.
“Hey, buddy.” Grace does the thing where it shows its teeth, smiling. It's a human expression of happiness, though sometimes it's faked. They can tell it's attempting to stay calm.
Rocky does not answer right away, just stares at Grace for a moment.
It's thin, heartbeat slow. They're about to throw themselves back into a panic when Grace speaks again.
“Focus on my breathing, Rock. You like it when I make sound, right?” It taps the floor, the metal sending vibrations to Rocky. They do as it asked, watching the way air filled its lungs and how it would deflate.
The two of them sit there for a while, tapping, humming, and watching.
“You back with me, Rock?” Grace asked, settling into a more comfortable sitting position. It called it “criss-cross apple sauce.”
“Yes. Rocky here.”
“That's good,” Grace paused for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Rocky recognized that tone. It was measured, calm, exceedingly so. “Rocky thought of crew. Grace reminded Rocky of crew before…”
Grace waited for Rocky to say more, but they didn't. Instead, it nodded and hummed. “I'm sorry, Rocky.”
Rocky knew Grace felt the words horribly inadequate to the sorrow they felt. Grace knew that Rocky knew, too, but what else do you say?
“Rocky panic like Grace earlier when thinking.” Rocky tapped the ground, looking at its ears. “High sounds, apology. Woke Grace up.”
“You don't need to apologize. You certainly didn't let me when I had the panic attack.” It slightly chuckled. Even if Grace had one prior, they hadn't heard the sequence of words to describe it. Still, it felt fitting. “That first word… I'm guessing it's sounds outside of my hearing. Ultrasonic?”
It was an attempt to change the topic if Rocky wanted to. “Yes. Eridian survival response.”
They'd get into the specifics later. For now, Grace stood up and stretched.
“I know that it can be tiring to have one. My students usually had to go home afterwards. I'll watch you, if you need.”
Rocky shook their carapace. “Not tired.”
Grace hummed again. “Me neither. How about we go to the ‘Don’t Go Crazy Room' and, I don't know, do you want to see Earth's… caves?”
They let out a whistling affirmative, so it went to its bed to grab Grace's quilt and headed over to the screened room.
There, sitting side-by-side with Grace, they listened to its heartbeat, its voice as they explained the different types of caves and how they were formed on earth. It wasn't all that different to the ones on Erid, but it was nice to hear about.
It was proof that it was alive. And they would do everything to keep it that way.