Chapter Text
Somehow, between breaths, Grace goes from a squishy human larger than I am to a horrifyingly familiar shape much much smaller than I. The absence of all the noises their body makes is enough to make me panic; the fact that they disappear completely is enough to send my heartrates into orbit.
WHERE’S GRACE QUESTION WHY’S A PEBBLE IN GRACE’S BED QUESTION GRACE GRACE GRACE- I scream, skittering back and forth in the xenonite tunnel. Every sound pings back at me, but I can’t properly hear the tiny creature struggling under Grace’s quilt. The soft material muffles most of the vibrations that would allow me to get a clear understanding of all of its limbs. I can hear enough that my brain is concerned that I’ll have a dead pebble alongside a missing Grace in a few seconds.
There’s nothing I’d be able to do if this pebble dies. Or if Grace is dead. I can’t survive in their atmosphere, and flooding the [Mary] with ammonia would destroy most of the [electronics]. I would be stuck on the [Mary] with two bodies. Not to mention that our planets would freeze after the Astrophage dimmed our stars enough.
The pebble chirps, then makes what can only be a sound like they had expelled all the gas from their air bladders in one go. Their limbs flail as they finally manage to wiggle out from under Grace’s bedding. All at once, the pebble slumps into a heap on the mattress with a huff.
I tap repeatedly on the xenonite barrier. The pebble is… very small. As they squeak and try to get their limbs underneath themself, I can hear how lanky their limbs are. Were they to stand up straight, half of their height would be from their limbs.
Another squeak. Slowly, the pebble manages to tip themself upright, settling their carapace on the mattress. They sit for a moment.
Where did you come from? I demand.
The pebble jolts, then twists their tiny carapace back and forth. They manage to spit out a few meaningless chords. The sound seemingly surprises them, because they twitch, limbs shuffling.
Apparently, their own limbs are more interesting to them than I am, because they get distracted lifting and dropping them. The clicking of their claws is very quiet. One of their hands manages to grab onto the edge of Grace’s quilt and they freeze.
Then they make that odd sound again. The one where they empty all five air bladders in one go. While simultaneously flailing their limbs in a panic.
Stop! You’re going to-!
With a small thunk, the pebble tips over the edge of the bed and hits the floor. They lay there, stunned, as I press myself against the xenonite. At least the pebble is okay. Small, but okay. They don’t seem to be dying, even though their vents are sucking in oxygen rather than ammonia.
Great. I can continue to panic about Grace’s spontaneous disappearance.
I click my claws around me and begin humming a simple chord. The whole of the [Hail Mary] carries the vibrations.
Grace’s familiar squishy body does not.
There’s no way that they could be hiding. Even if they had somehow gotten into a soundproofed space, I would have detected them entering said theoretical space. The airlock did not cycle while I was watching them sleep. They didn’t move from their bed, either. Grace just disappeared without warning, replaced by a pebble that should not be here and should not be struggling upright in an atmosphere made of literal poison and too cold for any Eridian to live in.
Awkwardly, the pebble warbles and manages to toddle over to the barrier. They reach out with two limbs – nearly tipping over in the process – and plant their hands against the xenonite.
I climb down to stand before them. The pebble chirps happily when I reach out and copy their pose, even if I tower over them.
I hum. You’re a mystery, little one. You’re breathing Grace’s atmosphere and not dying. And Grace is missing.
The pebble suddenly shrieks, tapping three times against the glass with one hand.
What? What’s wrong? I ask.
Three more taps. When that means nothing to me, the little Eridian closes their claws and shoves their fist against the glass.
I stop cycling ammonia through my vents.
They manage to squeak out a chord that sounds familiar. One of their tiny legs stomps, and they repeat the sound. It’s almost like-
Are you trying to say Grace’s name?
Apparently I guessed correctly, because the pebble squeaks and manages to unfold one finger to give me a thumbs down.
What the fuck.
Whatthefuck.
Grace?!
The baby Eridian – because a pebble that small is still practically a hatchling — shrieks again, and makes an approximation of what Grace calls [jazz] hands. They nearly fall into the xenonite barrier when they put too much energy into it.
I nearly collapse in relief. My friend isn’t dead. They’re just… a twelfth of the size they should be, and a different species than they should be.
Grace’s purr is weak, but it makes me laugh as they press themself up against the barrier.
It’s difficult, but Grace manages to wobble their way over to the dormitory airlock. They can’t reach the controls, so I have to close their door with my controls, and then start the process of seeing if they can handle ammonia like an Eridian pebble should be able to. Grace toddles back and forth in the airlock as I slowly feed ammonia into it. They’re humming to themself, testing out different sounds. I watch as they nearly trip over their own limbs several times, forgetting that they had five limbs rather than four.
Finally, nearly an entire Earth hour after I began testing, I finally feel safe enough to properly cycle the airlock. Grace waits by my side’s door, swaying side to side.
The door opens.
Without hesitation, I dart in and scoop Grace into my claws. They shriek and struggle, but I simply hold them in two hands and cup them to my carapace. Stop that, I scold without thinking when they attempt to free themself.
Grace makes what can only be a whine, but settles down.
I’ve never held a pebble before.
Adrian and I had talked about it before I’d left. Ultimately we’d decided to wait. And now I don’t know if Adrian even thought I was still alive.
In my hands, Grace taps my carapace. They sing the first chord for the shortened version of my name, then the second. On the third, they squeak, which makes me laugh. It gets me a tiny fist to the claw. Grace corrects the third chord. Once they get through it once, they do it again, slightly faster.
Rocky, they sing, and cling to my hands.
Something gets warm and tight inside me. Not actually – that would mean something was wrong. More like emotions flooding my systems. I’m holding a pebble, one that if they were on Erid, would barely be allowed out of their cave. And that would be only if they were especially strong. Grace can barely walk.
I’m fully aware that Grace is an adult by human standards. That they are not a child, even if they are the same age as an Eridian pebble. Grace is the leading human expert on Astrophage and teaches human children about science. The logical part of me is aware of these things.
The instinctual part of me is screaming about a pebble, a hatchling, being out of the cave.
I can’t tell if the strength of those instincts are because I’ve never experienced them before, or because this is Grace.
Whatever.
Grace has settled down and begun chattering to themself. I think they’re trying to continue to practice how to work the five vocal systems of an Eridian. Even in a body so different to their own, Grace is noisy.
I don’t know how you managed to do this, I tell them, but somehow I’m not surprised.
The grunt I get in response makes me recall the feelings when Grace would roll their [eyes] at me. Annoyed, but fond.
When Grace shifts back, they fall asleep for almost an entire Earth day. They’d been wandering around the [Mary] in their atmosphere while I followed in my ball. It was sudden, just like when they’d disappeared and become an Eridian the first time. Grace had tripped over their own limbs when they’d suddenly popped back into a squishy body twelve times larger than they’d been a moment prior, going from walking fairly confidently on five limbs to crawling awkwardly on four.
After they wake and eat, Grace rushes to check the Taumoeba farms. They’re all safe, and doing just fine. I’d have woken them if there was an issue.
Only a couple hours after they came back to join me in the dormitory, they suddenly pop back into pebble form.
In the middle of a question about early development in Eridian pebbles, there they go. The [crocheted] Earth ball hits the floor right next to their body, and it’s amusingly bigger than their carapace. Grace makes an undignified honking sound.
I hum judgementally.
Shh, says the bewildered pebble, in lieu of being able to control their air bladders enough to tell me to shut up.
You should practice more with your song.
Grace exhales a tiny puff of oxygen from their vents. Shh.
Trying to tamp down my laughter, I tell them, you are getting hands-on experience like this. You were just asking about young Eridians.
Yes, they grumble, and I purr encouragingly at the clear sound.
The translator is still active, thankfully. Grace is getting better at Eridian, but they’re still not fluent. And even then, they’re only able to understand the sounds I make within the frequencies they can perceive. So even though they can hear the full range of my song, they still don’t know what many of the notes mean.
Grace manages to figure out a few more words like this. I listen carefully as they circle the [laptop] while puzzling out their next question to me.
Then they twist their carapace and start moving towards where [Armando] hangs, dormant.
What are you doing? I ask, tapping twice as I trail after them.
Grace chirps. Try hello touch hear, they warble in broken Eridian. Friend hello!
Unfortunately for Grace, [Armando] hangs far above their carapace, and their song is unfamiliar, so it doesn’t respond. They huff when they realize this.
I stand in the xenonite tunnel and watch as Grace pivots and starts walking over to the cubbies filled with soft storage cubes. What are you doing now?
Grace hear touch thing many. Small go hear many. Grace stops at the lip of the cubby and taps the edge. Hear touch big. Grace small touch. They huff again as they struggle with the chord order.
What?
Then Grace climbs into the cubby and very quickly I lose focus on them. They’re small enough to squeeze between the soft storage cubes, most of which are full of clothing or bedding, or other objects that we haven’t discussed much.
Grace? I call nervously.
All I get in response is a chirp from the depths of the storage cubby. A few things shift but not by much. A pebble is too small to move an entire storage cube, even if they had the physical strength to do so.
I stomp. Grace, I can’t hear you properly. Only having a muffled understanding of where they are makes me shift nervously.
Am okay! They shout, but their voice is quiet. I hear the sound of a zipper, and they squeak in excitement.
There’s nothing I can do while Grace is in the storage cubby. Not without hurting myself. I suddenly realize that with Grace as small as they are, they could climb into places that are impossible for me to fit into, even if I were able to survive their atmosphere.
Shit.
Okay.
Grace, come back.
Then-
No!
Grace has figured out how to say no.
I’d heard stories of pebbles being difficult before. My egg layers both told me stories about how I was a trouble-maker myself. However those were stories about Eridian pebbles, who had not left their caves and were still reliant on their egg layers.
Grace is a pebble who can survive in two very different atmospheres, with the knowledge of a human who had experienced independence and learned how to study things. Who currently had a whole new way of observing the world around themself.
The entire ship, really. With much of it out of my reach.
[Mary], close the dormitory door, I command, and the translator does its job. Thankfully, [Mary] obeys, and the door separating us from the rest of her halls and rooms swings closed with a thud.
I hear struggling, shifting cloth. First a limb, and then the rest of Grace tumbles out from between two storage cubes. No! Out why no Grace go! They cry, and point at the door.
You are too small to explore the rest of the ship, I explain. Grace can be big dumb stupid as a human. If you are pebble, you can be big dumb stupid as well, but I can’t help you if something goes wrong. [Mary] does not recognize you.
Grace stomps. No. Grace go why Rocky no Grace want go out in. I don’t think I fully understand what they’re trying to communicate, but it doesn’t matter. They can’t open the door without being human.
I tell them as much.
They stand for a moment, one claw tapping a consistent tempo against the ground.
Grace want go, they finally say.
Grace must stay here. It is not safe yet.
Grace huffs again and seemingly spins in a circle, trying to decide what to do. The laptop is out of their reach, sitting on their bed.
Smugly, I settle down, folding my limbs beneath myself. For now, Grace is contained in a relatively small area, complete with soft walls and not much they can really hurt themself with. Even if they managed to climb onto their bed, it was a short drop that their young body could handle.
They growl at me, a weak thing that makes me laugh with the attempt. Rocky no.
Rocky yes, I counter easily.
All at once, the sound of carapace cracking, and Grace is sitting on the floor, human again. They grin at me. “Grace yes.” Then Grace is up and opening the dormitory door themself, shoving it open. “You can’t stop me if I want to explore like that, Rocky! I’m not a baby!” Then their body gurgles, squishes, and a pebble is skittering down the hall, giggling.
I have a very normal reaction to this.
…no, I don’t. I sing a dozen curses that I haven’t taught Grace yet, and then rush for my ball so I can go try and stop them from doing something stupid like trying to climb into the [vent hood] or the [microwave]. I don’t think they can reach it, but. It’s Grace.