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It seemed as if Rocky had conjured a new nickname for Grace.
That was the conclusion Grace had arrived at after hearing that particular sound over and over and over again, always directed at him, always accompanied by Rocky's eager little wiggling in his direction. The first few times, Grace had barely registered it. He was a busy man. A scientist who had just been thrown unwillingly into the vast, terrifying, breathtaking expanse of space. Even if his presence here was more of a hostage than a volunteer, he was still curious. So he'd filed the unfamiliar word away in the back of his mind, something he promised himself he'd get to later.
A quiet sound echoed through the room, the new word again.
Grace ignored it.
Rocky, reluctant to back down, says it again.
Perhaps it meant Gracie in Eridian? But this sound was shorter than Grace’s actual name. Ry? Slightly plausible. Maybe the words “Gr” or “Ac” or “Ace”, which sound terrible in English, sound pleasing in Eridian, but Grace doubts it; none of the syllables is present in the new word that Rocky had said.
Rocky, in his little ball, jumped over and over again in front of Grace.
“What is Grace thinking question?” Rocky interrupted.
“Oh uh, bud, what exactly is the word you called me just now. Like… a nickname?”
“Grace doesn’t know what word means. What is it question?”
Grace twiddled with his equipment. “It just means like a shorter version of your name. For Rocky, I could call you…Rock?”
“That sound bad. Nickname. New word.”
Grace quickly opened the computer again to process the way Rocky said “nickname”.
“I’m sorry, okay! Couldn’t think one up on the spot. But is it?”
“What humans use nickname for question?”
Grace sighed and rubbed his eyes. Of course, Rocky didn't know what a nickname was. Why would he? Humans shortened names out of familiarity, out of affection, out of sheer laziness when a name had too many syllables. But Eridians, based on what Grace had observed so far, seemed to prefer precision. Rocky called things exactly what they were. The gel was gel. The stabiliser was stabiliser. The ship was the ship.
So why would Rocky suddenly invent a nickname?
"What humans use nickname for," Grace repeated slowly, buying himself time. "Well. We use them for friends. Or family. People we're close to."
Rocky’s body tilted. "Close to question mark. Physically close or emotionally close question mark."
"Emotionally."
"Rocky understands. Humans make shorter names for beings they care about."
"Basically, yeah."
"Then Grace has answered own question." Rocky bounced once, satisfied. "New word is nickname. Grace said so."
Grace opened his mouth. Closed it. That was not…no, that wasn't…but Rocky had already turned away, apparently done with the conversation.
Damn.
Had Rocky just confirmed it? The new word was a nickname? For Grace?
Grace stared at the back of Rocky's little body.
Rocky had been calling him something, an affectionate substitute, or, Grace's stomach did something strange, a word that meant someone I care about.
Rather than feeling flattered, Grace felt something was amiss and (lightly) smashed his head onto the nearest wall.
Grace was a scientist. Scientists didn't let unknown variables float around for two weeks without analysis. He'd been sloppy. Distracted. Too busy keeping the ship from exploding to do his actual job, which was understanding.
He pulled up the translation computer again. "Rocky. Come here."
Rocky rolled back over. "Grace sounds serious question?"
"Serious adjacent." Grace pointed to the audio input sensor. "Say the word. The one you've been calling me. Slowly."
Rocky tilted his entire body. "The nickname question?"
"Yes. The nickname. Say it into the computer."
Rocky complied. The sound that came out was soft, almost musical; it was a trill followed by a gentle exhale, nothing like the harsh consonants of English. Grace had heard it a thousand times by now. K'tarr-ee. Or something close to that. His human ears couldn't quite replicate it.
The computer hummed and processed it, falling silent after.
“Okay so let's figure this out, buddy. Are you using this word for something like to express warmth?”
“Rocky nickname for you is like how you say buddy statement. Warm.”
Alright that narrows it down. "Rocky," he said carefully. "This word. The one you've been using. Do you know what it means in English?"
"Rocky does not speak English. Rocky speaks Eridian. The computer translates."
"Right. Right, of course." Grace took a breath. "Is it a term of endearment like buddy? Or are you calling me dumb in a nice way? Or a friend. Do you know what that means?"
"Rocky knows what words mean. Rocky is not…" Rocky's hands fluttered in frustration. "Rocky is not stupid. Rocky knows the word means care. Not friend, not dumb. Warm. The way Rocky feels when Grace talks. The way Rocky feels when Grace stays up late to fix the recycler. The way Rocky feels when Grace looks at stars."
“How about love? Am I reaching closer?”
“Yes. Nice word for a being you love.”
"So," he said slowly, "you've been calling me... what? Beloved? Something like that?"
"I think so." Rocky bounced in place. "Beloved. Rocky likes this word. It is short. It is warm. It is easier than Grace, which has too many sounds that Rocky's mouth cannot make."
Grace blinked. "Grace is longer than beloved?”
"Rocky can say Grace, but it takes effort. The sound is difficult. Beloved is easier. Beloved is soft. Beloved is how Rocky thinks of Grace anyway."
Grace's brain short-circuited.
“Great, an alien loves me now.” His tone carried sarcasm, but his cheeks were red.
"Grace is quiet," Rocky observed. "Grace is unhappy question? Rocky should not have used the word. Rocky should have asked first. Humans have rules about words like this. Rocky did not know."
"No!" Grace said, too loudly. Rocky flinched. Grace lowered his voice. "No, Rocky. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm not unhappy."
"Then why is Grace's face doing the thing question?"
"The thing?"
"The thing where Grace's eyes get bright, and Grace's mouth gets tight, and Grace stops talking. Rocky has seen it before when Grace thinks about Earth.”
Grace's throat closed up.
"I'm thinking," Grace said carefully, "that you're my beloved too. In English. With the human meaning. I don't have a nickname for you that doesn't sound terrible. Rock is still off the table, but I have the real word. The one that means the same thing as yours."
"Rocky likes this," Rocky said. "Rocky likes this very much. Grace used the word. Grace meant the word. Grace called Rocky beloved."
"I did."
"Grace should say it again."
Grace laughed, coming out a little wet and unsteady. "You're my beloved, Rocky. Okay? You're my" He gestured helplessly. "You're my friend. My companion. The reason I haven't lost my mind out here. And I'm sorry it took me 1 week to put your word into the computer. I'm sorry, I assumed it was a shortened version of my name. I'm sorry I didn't"
Rocky bumped against his knee, hard enough to interrupt. "Grace is apologising too much. Rocky does not need apologies. Rocky needs Grace to say the word again."
"beloved."
"Again."
"beloved."
"Again."
"beloved."
"Rocky will remember this. Rocky will remember every time Grace says the word. Rocky will count them."
"You're going to count how many times I call you beloved?"
"Yes. And when the number is very large, Rocky will remind Grace that Grace was the one who did not know what the word meant for 1 week. Rocky will be very gentle about this. But Rocky will never forget."
Grace groaned. "You're going to hold this over me forever, aren't you?"
"Forever is a long time. Rocky will hold it over Grace for as long as Rocky can. This is fair. Grace did not input the word into the computer. Grace thought beloved was a random noise. Grace is a scientist who did not do science. Rocky is allowed to remember."
"I hate you," Grace said, without any heat.
Rocky's hands flap around. "No. Grace does not hate Rocky. Grace called Rocky beloved. Grace meant it. Rocky knows."
Grace opened his mouth to argue. Closed it. Looked down at the small alien wrapped around his wrist, the computer screen still glowing.
Rocky was right. Of course, Rocky was right.
He didn't hate Rocky. He couldn't. Not when Rocky shared his water and watched the stars with him and covered him with blankets when he fell asleep at his workstation. Not when Rocky had been calling him beloved for 1 week without ever once getting frustrated that Grace didn't say it back.
"Fine," Grace said. "You win. I'll say it again. But only because you asked nicely."
"Rocky did not ask nicely. Rocky demanded."
"Same thing."
"It is not the same thing. Rocky is very precise about words. Grace should know this by now."
Grace smiled. It was a small smile, crooked at the edges, not quite sure of itself. But it was real, "beloved," he said. "You're my beloved. Happy?"
Rocky’s movements become more excited. "Very happy. Rocky will now add this to the count. One. Two. Three. Four. Grace is at four."
"You're actually counting."
"Rocky is always counting. Rocky is very precise.”