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It took four years to get home. Four years of Rocky, then Grace, then Rocky sleeping. Four years of trying to make their food last the journey. Four years of breeding astrophage, of trying to conserve energy, of simply existing.
Rocky should have noticed that something was wrong much sooner.
“Aaaaaaaaaand… touchdown.” Grace shut the engines off as they entered orbit around Erid, then turned to make an explosive sound against his arm. “Not too shabby, huh? We limped our way here… ‘M sorry about your ship, though, that was…”
Rocky trilled concerningly, tapping on the surface of his enclosure. The portable-Earth-thinking-machine translated his words for him almost immediately into a language that Grace understood. “What Grace doing, question?”
“Uh, parking Mary? You never did explain how you were gonna get down there, by the way…”
“Noise, that noise,” the thinking-machine translated, sounding vaguely annoyed. Rocky tapped insistently. “Wrong, what is wrong?”
“Coughing, bud; sorry. It’s nothing.”
Rocky rumbled quietly, disturbed. This was NOT nothing--- They had not communicated very much, it was true, because one of them was always sleeping, but he would have remembered that noise; Grace had not always made that noise. He was interrupted before he could find the words by Grace unbuckling the straps that held him in place, floating up from his seat. “Wooooooow… WOW. That’s your PLANET?”
“Erid!!!” Rocky suddenly bounced from surface to surface, distracted at once by the flare of excitement-nervousness-grief-hope-love, and floated to the other side of his enclosure. As soon as he had entered his ball, it sealed shut, allowing him to float into empty space. “Grace move Rocky ball, Rocky want to see!!!”
Grace pushed himself off of the ship’s wall to collide gently against the xenonite. Rocky could see him much better this close up; the vibration his voice made through his body, the glasses always hanging from his face, the shoelaces that were untied. His emotional sounds… his food digesting… his heartbeat.
His heartbeat that sounded different. Faint… thready.
“Here it is,” Grace said quietly, and the vibration of his voice disguised his struggling heartbeat. “Erid.”
Rocky tried to ignore the worry--- Grace had said that it was nothing; was it nothing or a lie or really nothing?--- and he tapped quickly against the surface of his ball, aiming his tool at the window of the Hail Mary spacecraft as Grace brought them closer to it. Erid stood out on his sandscreen, swirls of texture with perfect rings.
Rocky felt a deep ache in his core. Excitement-sadness-dread. Too many families waiting for his crewmates to come home. Too much news to share. Too many things to do. A planet to save; a human to introduce.
Longing for the peace of The Before. Longing for Adrian.
Rocky turned his attention back to Grace, Grace whose face was pressed against the glass; Grace whose heartbeat was bad, whose face always leaked, whose food had been running low. Grace who was staring at Erid like Erid was HIS home.
“How…” Rocky tried slowly to articulate, careful of which limited sounds could translate into speech. “How do YOU see? How does Erid look… question?”
“What d’you mean?” Grace laughed tightly. “It’s YOUR planet.”
“Describe it to Rocky.”
Grace rested his hand on the top of Rocky’s ball to stabilize it, humming. The hums he made did not translate into Rocky’s language; they were not the same, tender instead of gravely, but Rocky had been learning to understand them all the same. THIS hum meant a good kind of thinking.
It sounded rougher than usual. Something was wrong. Rocky did not know what was wrong. Why wouldn’t Grace tell him?
“It’s…” Grace’s voice lightened. Wonder-hope-awe. “It’s beautiful, Rock. It’s… it’s blue… and green… and so… SO bright. Its rings are so colorful, so… graceful.”
Rocky tried to repeat the word, questioning, but the machine did not translate. He made a frustrated noise. “Grace… full of Grace. Grace, need word.”
“What… graceful?” Grace spun around, aiming for the portable-Earth-thinking-machine. “I dunno, it’s… like a ballerina, like a dancer.”
“Erid rings dance?”
“Not like that, like… I dunno… beautiful and natural and flowy.”
“Flow.”
“Gracefully.”
Rocky considered deeply before choosing one of many sounds that could describe such a thing. A few taps later, Grace had added the word to the thinking-machine’s vocabulary. “Graceful.”
“Exactly.”
Rocky stared at Erid through his sandscreen, contemplating. “The opposite of Grace. Bipedal--- clumsy.”
“Ha-ha-ha, veeeeeeery funny.”
“Is joke!!!”
“I know, I heard it.” Grace’s tone lifted, but something gravelly caught Rocky’s attention, something… something that should not have been there. Grace coughed again; the noise disappeared. “Let’s get our taumoeba to your people on Erid first. The quicker we can start a colony---”
“Grace.” Rocky tried to kick off the wall to follow his friend across the ship, but his ball was not suited for maneuvering in zero gravity. “Grace, why do you not tell Rocky what is wrong, question?”
“Uh, nothing’s wrong, bud,” Grace replied lightly, flicking switches. Mary’s centrifugal system began to activate, spinning to create false gravity. “Just… a little tired, that’s all…”
“NO.” Rocky stamped one of his legs emphatically as he touched down to the floor. “Grace is LYING. Rocky know something is wrong; something is wrong for a very long time. Grace is sick, question?”
“Maybe a little.” Grace laughed again, but the noise sounded hollow. Tight. Anxious. “It’s… just been a while, I guess. Without the sun… low iron… jus’ some simple… Earth… things.”
Rocky considered silently, thoughts spinning. He had already availed himself of the knowledge contained within the portable-Earth-thinking-machine every time Grace took his long medicine-induced-anti-aging-sleeps. He knew what made up the foods that humans needed to eat; he had already rehearsed several experiments for the scientists to attempt creating such nutrition back on Erid. He had not, however, considered a sun. Humans were squishy creatures capable of absorbing many things; their sun’s light was present for over half of their lives. Then, too, was the atmosphere. Surely the stale air inside of Mary did not contain every variable present in a rich, living atmosphere filled with beaches and trees and water water water…
Rocky honed back in on Grace’s heartbeat, a horrible dread. Grace was pretending, working, moving; always moving. Grace was lying, but Grace’s heartbeat did not know how to lie.
Grace was dying.
Fourteen slow messages, one short sleep, and an endless number of system checks later, the tunnel was open, and the first ball to enter Grace’s ship was filled with an outline that made Rocky’s every plane vibrate with excitement. He crouched until he was touching the ground, greeting her the only way he knew how--- With the loud, all-consuming, beautiful sound of her name. She crouched also, screeching back at him, and every wavelength thrummmmmmmmmmed with her sadness, her excitement, her joy.
She’d missed him.
Rocky finally quieted, letting their combined harmony, the most perfect of all songs, echo into silence. He bumped his ball against hers, memorizing her every humming surface. He longed to touch her again, to feel her warmth, but they were not safe yet. Ecstatic, he turned to point her out to his friend. “Adrian!!!”
“Yeah,” Grace grunted breathily, lowering his hands from his head. (Ah… yes. Sensitive human ears.) “I kinda put that together. Hi, Adrian, wow… It’s… It’s such an honor to finally meet you. Rocky, you never told me you guys come in different sizes---”
“Adrian very large,” Rocky said happily, bumping his ball incessantly against hers. “Excellent for scaring away predator. Adrian, Grace is the pilot and the captain and the savior of his world; he gave up his chance to go home in order to circle back to save ME, so he is also the savior of Erid.”
“Rocky, Rocky, slow down,” Grace was laughing. “What’re you saying? The computer can’t keep up…”
“Of course, Rocky always slow down for Grace.” Rocky hummed proudly, rolling around Adrian in circles now as she stood still, quietly watching him, as always. (God, nothing, nothing had changed---) “Adrian is smart. Grace is stupid.”
“It sounds like you’re… giving me compliments; trust me, Adrian, I’m just the pilot; he doesn’t have t---”
“Do not listen to him.” Rocky suddenly rolled to a stop, a horrible seriousness washing over his enthusiasm, and switched dialects. “Adrian, Grace is in danger. Humans need sunlight, plants to eat, and air to breathe. Oxygen, burning air.”
“Why are we speaking in the Old Northern Hum?” she asked him curiously, reaching out through the flexible panel on her ball to rest one claw on Rocky’s ball now that he was still.
“So Grace will not be scared. I think he is scared already.” Rocky swayed uneasily from side to side, clicking his claws. “Grace is getting very sick, very melty; his heartbeat is bad, and his breathing. He sleeps for too long, he barely eats, and I cannot fix it---”
“Love,” she interrupted, dipping her entire body for emphasis. “Love, precious treasure, slow down.”
Rocky forced his joints to relax. “You received my message about… the crew.”
“Yes, and we have already sent word; best not to delay the inevitable. I will help you to relay the full story.” Adrian’s high-pitched hums took on a note of gentle concern. “You are not a scientist, and even our best are struggling to understand why it is your crew was killed. Their passing is NOT your fault.”
If Rocky were a human, Rocky would have leaked very much in this moment. Grace gave grace for EVERYTHING; he was a forgiving outlier not to be counted. Hearing a reassurance from one of his own people, the person he trusted to tell the truth the most, gave Rocky the encouragement he needed to grieve.
Except… not yet. He turned to look at his friend, his friend who was staring at the computer as if confused that he could no longer understand. His friend who was in danger.
“Do you think you can fix him?” he almost whispered. “Please… he is my friend.”
Adrian clicked her claws thoughtfully, pausing at the ancient, intimate, once-in-a-lifetime use of the word friend. “My superiors shut down the proposition for atmospherically controlled islands---”
“What? Why?! You were making such incredible advances when I left---”
“They did not wish to choose which Eridians would be allowed inside, for the islands could not possibly last long enough to house everyone.” Adrian straightened proudly. “But I kept working on them. Our families are safe inside, and our pebbles---”
Rocky’s limbs went completely limp with shock. “Pebbles?”
“Yes.” Adrian took on a defensive note, an embarrassed one. “Mating season is only once every hundred years, so when I laid my eggs alone, I kept them--- I kept them for you. They are still very viable; they are waiting for activation, but I could not take another. If… that is what you wish… we may discuss it later.”
Rocky could hardly hear her. Mating season had passed without him? There were eggs? Eggs Adrian hadn’t allowed anyone else to complete? Eggs that she had saved for him?
“I can repurpose one of these containers,” she told him, pulling his bouncing attention back to the problem at hand. “We can create atmosphere for your friend, and perhaps food. How long will he last while we work?”
Rocky turned again, listening to the fluttering sounds of Grace’s heartbeat. “I don’t know.”
It took less time to explain the customs of a hug to Adrian, which she politely offered to Grace with many a thanks as soon as she understood, than it took to explain the taumoeba, which she continually interrupted between Rocky interrupting himself in order to ask stupid questions.
“Why did you not add a retractable function to the winch?”
“Why did Grace risk his life to correct his clumsy mistake?”
“Why did you not try again rather than damage the ship?”
Rocky was patient, because Adrian was smart most of the time, and it was not her fault that she did not understand the finer details of mechanical engineering or human bravery or a delicate ship. (Grace, of course, was brave, even despite the fact that he had been forced onto the Hail Mary to begin with, and Rocky could not afford to think about THAT, because he hate hate hate hate hated the people that would force sleep onto Grace, unsafe, unkind, uncomfortable---)
He focused instead on telling Adrian of the taumoeba; the plan, the collection, the successful experimentation. He told her about the way Grace had risked his life for the predator collector. He told her about the way Grace had piloted the ship out of danger. He told her about the way Grace had struggled until the last second of consciousness to do his job, to fix, and as he told her, his tone quavered with emotion.
“Grace thinks he is not brave,” Rocky confessed quietly, watching the sealed taumoeba stores. “Grace risked his life before he could remember that he thought himself a coward. I gave him fuel to go home, to Earth, but he sent his share of the predator to Earth in order to save me.”
“To save you?” Adrian bumped her ball up against his, concern thrumming from the very air around her. “Again?”
Guilty, Rocky clicked his claws, trying to think of a good way to relate the last, and most hopeless, of his failures. “The predator escaped the xenonite breeding farm. It ate the ship’s fuel; all systems failed. I was stranded in space. Grace discovered this; Grace came back to save Erid. To save me.”
Adrian touched the ground again, keening. Rocky joined her, hopeless, because this sound was meant to be shared, even though he could not possibly understand her worry; her grief. He would not be able to comfort her. Not about this.
He had thought her lost for dead, too.
“We will lose no more,” she told him, rising on heavy legs. “I will take the taumoeba to our scientists. You will take over the building of the containment project.”
“Wait, wait, wait…” Rocky sprung up, agitated. “By… by myself?!”
“You have my entire team at your disposal. You know this alien better than anyone.” Adrian tapped her foot emphatically. “You are Rocky, my mate, surveyor of missions, maker of vessels, savior of the universe. Now save Grace.”
It took no time at all to return to Erid’s surface, to scurry incessantly whilst explaining to everyone, anyone who would listen, about oxygen and gravity and nutrients that did not exist on Erid, but needed to. It took no time at all to strip his plans, for he had made many; ideas for trees, for sunlight, for soil and fog and sand, down to their barest components; the most basic necessities that humans needed to survive. It took no time at all to concern them, the team that had made themselves available to Rocky’s every frantic whim, for was he not changed; did he not move differently, speak differently; would it not be better for him to rest?--- but to convince them that time was of the utmost importance, because rest could not, would not happen if Grace was not safe.
And yet when Rocky returned to the ship, exuberant at their speedy progress, Grace was gone.
Alarmed, Rocky activated the centrifugal gravity before calling out for Adrian’s fourth in command; the Eridian she had left to watch Grace, to let Grace sleep. The answering call echoed from the very back of the ship--- The maintenance areas near the fuel tanks.
This was even less reassuring, but Rocky hurry hurry hurried, and as soon as he squeezed his ball into the smallest most difficult part of the ship to navigate, he saw it--- Grace, the figure of Grace, curled up and soundless and not moving.
“He does not want to sleep,” Grace’s guard tried to explain, but Rocky was barely listening; Rocky was watching intently for Grace’s heartbeat. There it was--- Faint, but steady, thank everything--- Grace’s head shifted; Grace was safe.
The bar had become extremely low for the word “safe”.
“Grace,” Rocky wavered carefully, worried worried worried. “Too close to fuel tanks, statement. Sleep in bed.”
“Nuh,” Grace’s body grunted, and his head thunked back down. (Unsafe, unconcerned, uncomfy.) “‘S warm here, Rock. Five more minutes.”
“But… is not safe.” Rocky trilled helplessly, scanning for the damage, for poisons he could not see. “Rocky will fix; come to bed now.”
“Can’t.” Grace’s voice smiled, but something was wrong; this was not sleepy, this was tired, and Rocky could still hear the quiet resignation in his last crewmate’s low hum as they waited to see which one of them would die first.
Rocky had known that he was stronger for some reason; he would not be the one to go. Still, he had not been strong enough, smart enough, to fix it. His strength had betrayed him; he remembered wishing desperately, selfishly, that as he had made no difference in the salvation of his home, he might as well have never set claw upon their ship in the first place.
“Please,” he remembered wavering, a funeral song more than anything else. “Don’t leave me.”
They could not have helped it; they left him. All of them, one by one, had left him. Rocky had retreated each time to his workshop, inventing useless things that did not help, could not save them. After the last Eridian had died… he had stayed there.
Grace sounded like the last surviving crewmate had. Calm. Resigned. Cold. “Grace is sick, question?”
“Somethin’ like that.” Grace’s outline shivered with something other than his voice. “Jus’ a little bit warmer. Wanna be warm… tha’s all.”
Rocky swayed about, back and forth and side to side, chittering anxiously. Grace was NOT well, and the longer he lied about it, the more itchy became the anxiety, the anger, the grief.
Rocky was not allowed to grieve. Not. Yet.
“Grace,” he begged, forcing himself to echo the past with promises he was powerless to keep. “Rocky will fix.”
“I know.” Grace’s shaky hand, so much weaker so very quickly, rested on Rocky’s ball. “I know y’ will, Rock. I’ll wait for you.”
Grace may not have believed Rocky, because he was good at lying, but his heart was not, and Rocky could tell. His belief did not change reality. The containment unit was WORKING. Not well enough, not yet, but after fifteen Earth days, Adrian’s team (Rocky’s team now) had successfully sealed off the walls, emptied most of Erid’s atmosphere from inside, and begun to experiment with the gases needed to create sustainable life for a human.
Rocky felt himself torn every waking moment, scattered in a way he would never have been able to prepare for by himself in space. The families of his dead crewmates needed closure, but he could not force himself to face them yet; he could not spare the thought to give them the right words. Several more required his firsthand knowledge in order to properly tend the taumoeba project, and this he tried his best to give them between sleeps, but his words were clumsy, imprecise after so many years of talking to Grace.
Grace was an incredible scientist. Grace would have explained it to them better. Grace would have helped to save Erid faster.
Then was the sleep itself. Rocky could not help needing to, but every time he woke up after stretches of complete unconsciousness, his entire carapace thrummed with buzzy anxiety until he could scamper to the elevator, travel to the Hail Mary, and see Grace again for himself. To hear the human’s breathing… his heartbeat… and pray to everything he had ever known that Grace would be okay for one more sleep.
He was not alone while Rocky was gone, working, resting. It was simply not the same. That was all.
So Rocky tried. He tried to maintain balance, to sleep and eat and snap at his own species that he had thought so many times would die because of his own failures NO, NOT THAT WAY; THAT WILL KILL HIM, AND THAT, AND THAT, but it was a constant struggle, and he could feel his carapace flaking as he refused to give himself time to readjust to Erid’s surface.
“Love,” Adrian reprimanded softly, her croons full of gentle concern every rare time she managed to visit. “You are cracking.”
“Grace will die,” he told her, and he hated the way he sounded so sad, because there was no reason to be sad; not yet, not yet. “I cannot stop.”
The worst part, and this he loathed himself for, more than anything else, was the checking on Grace. The relief was very brief, overshadowed every time by ever-always-deepening dread, and it was a terror that scraped at his insides until he felt but a hollow shell. Grace’s breathing was slower every time; he slept more, and longer, every time.
The food had run out. Grace had not TOLD Rocky. Grace was shriveling, becoming smaller, easier to see through with each horrifying visit. Grace was dying, dying in more ways than one, and every time Rocky thought he was close to solving one problem, another would immediately present itself.
Humans were so fucking delicate.
Rocky tried his best not to wake Grace, especially since he very rarely had notable progress to share. He could never stop himself from sounding upset, and he did not want to worry Grace. Besides, his friend needed the sleep; he was closer to death this way, yes, but he was also conserving the most energy, and energy was a precious resource that Erid’s scientists could not scramble to create fast enough.
It was difficult at first to stay quiet, to let his friend sleep, but as time went on… Rocky found that Grace was becoming harder to wake. It took seven Earth minutes, one time, to shake his body into a state of alertness, and by then, Rocky was too panicked to form the words, so he fled… like a coward… and hid in a corner of the cockpit to shiver and quiver and shake.
Grace could not see that Rocky was afraid. If Grace were to die… if Rocky could not fix it… the very last thing he wanted was for his friend to be in unnecessary pain.
So Rocky worked… and he balanced… and he ignored the wounds not yet healed, the flaking not yet addressed, and he hoped against hope that the combined focus of his entire people working to save the savior of their world would somehow be enough.
“Grace?” Rocky practically tripped over himself in his new suit, unused to the way the tiny panels flexed with his every movement. “Grace, Rocky made suit!!! New suit good, new plan, time go; time go, container working, working good, Grace no die in Rocky atmosphere, statement!!! Grace?”
“Grace is alive,” Adrian’s third in command reassured him, as they had all learned to do immediately upon reconnection. “He breathes the air but does not move. It has been twenty-two Earth hours.”
Worried worried worried, but practically hopping with excitement, Rocky used the new xenonite’s suit--- Adrian’s brilliant design!!! Adrian who barely had time to see him, Adrian who still missed him so much that her entire carapace ached, Adrian who had every reason to distrust this alien, to be selfish, to be unfriendly!!!--- to scamper about Grace’s body, poking at him in order to coax him out of his shrimplike sleep. He could see better without all of the blankets in the way, so he discarded them one by one.
“Rock,” Grace finally groaned, and he leaked from his nose, from his mouth, but Rocky could hear him; he still breathed. “Go’way.”
“Grace MOVE,” Rocky repeated emphatically, frustrated--- Of course Grace was too weak to be excited about this, but Rocky had DONE it, he had created an atmosphere with the best of Eridian scientists that might keep Grace alive. They were still working on the light, yes, and the nutrients were proving a complex matter, but they were so close!!! Close enough to get Grace off of Mary!!! Close enough to begin recovery!!! “Grace move now; containment ready; time go to Erid, statement. Amaze amaze amaze!!!”
“Really? Y’sure…” Grace trailed off, his entire body spasming with what he had previously dismissed as “just coughing”, and Rocky was alarmed to be able to see his internal organs so much more clearly now. His stomach was very empty, shrinking, and his heart sounded so heavy, so strained. It had not sounded that way before.
Fresh nervousness sent shivers down Rocky’s legs. He slowly gathered Grace into his arms, over his body… gently, oh no, GENTLY… and supported his friend’s meager weight as Grace tried to stand.
“Rock,” he finally wheezed, soft and kind and what Rocky had learned to identify as emotional. “Y’re’n a new… new suit. ‘S cool.”
Rocky hummed absently, trying to make the happy noises that Grace was accustomed to without completely botching the tone with the force of his worry. Grace most likely could not have cared less… Grace had given up on trying to stand, slumping fully over the top of Rocky’s suit with a deeeeeeeep rattling sigh.
Rocky decided unilaterally to just… carry Grace. It was awkward, yes, but the human did not seem capable of carrying himself, so Rocky just tried not to think too hard about the last time he had forcefully dragged his friend around like this as he carefully got Grace into his EVA suit, hoisted him overhead, and lifted him through Mary’s door into their tiny spinning shuttle. Others were waiting on standby to take Mary to the planet below, to conserve the power, to start repairs, but not yet… Not until they were SURE that Grace, on the surface, would be safe.
Rocky was so preoccupied with planning ways to get Grace back to Mary if he reacted poorly to his makeshift nursery that he almost didn’t notice the sound of Grace’s speeding heartbeat. He started asking--- and cursed himself immediately. He had forgotten the portable-Earth-thinking-machine.
“Sorry,” Grace whispered faintly, because he must have understood the form of Rocky’s worried song anyway. “Elevators.”
Rocky cast his sense as far as he could reach; the elevator they were connecting to, the elevator’s shaft. It was a very long way down, but this machine could travel at speed. He had made it clear so that Grace could see. Now he was regretting that decision. “Grace scared of elevator on Earth, question?”
Again, to his surprise--- and what would have been utter delight in any other circumstance--- Grace seemed to mostly understand. He laughed softly, derisively, as if embarrassed or perhaps angry-at-self. “Scary.”
Rocky gently placed his claw, so close to the surface of his brand new suit, over Grace’s helmet. “Do not look.”
He could not tell whether Grace’s eyes closed, but Grace’s heartbeat slowed, so Rocky’s words or actions must have had some effect. He monitored Grace’s every vital as they sped down, down, down. Several minutes later, once they had docked, he moved Grace’s body very quickly away from the elevator, through Erid’s atmosphere, and into the tunnel they had created to span from the containment unit to the landing site. Only once the door had sealed behind them did Rocky feel weak with relief.
Grace was still not moving.
Trying very hard not to panic, Rocky did what his friend called “locking in”, fortifying himself against the grief to come. Now was the hardest work of all. The clumsy transportation of Armando, the building of the dome, the creation of food and atmosphere and light; none of it compared to the crushing task he could not afford to be too afraid to face.
Chance. The edge of Grace’s life.
Rocky performed endless tests on the biodome’s systems before even risking Grace outside of the EVA suit’s life support. From that point, it was only a matter of repetition; a steady list of steps to focus on one at a time. Get Grace out of the suit--- gentle, gentle--- Situate Grace’s body in the comfy nest built for him under the lights that did not yet work--- gentle, gentle--- and triple-check the atmosphere for the fresh air that would burn Rocky alive, but would wrap around Grace like a balm.
He wondered what it smelled like. He wondered if Grace would ever wake up to tell him.
Then, against every instinct that told him to move, to build, to fix, Rocky settled in to watch Grace sleep.
The lights came on after eighteen hours of darkness. Rocky only knew because they told him so, relaying the information through a series of shorthand clicks on the other side of the dome. There were not many lamps yet; the power required to transport sunlight all the way from space down through Erid’s atmosphere was immense, but surely Grace did not need more than his equivalent of Rocky’s heat lamp.
Rocky made sure to angle said lamps upward so that they reflected off of the nearby xenonite; he had learned that ambient lighting was far better for humans than direct ultraviolet rays, which he could not detect, and would not be able to tell if they were harming Grace. Better to play it safe. Then he set a timer in Earth hours; eight of darkness, sixteen of varying levels of bright.
The warmth was a bit more difficult. Since the transportation of the light was not yet perfected, and Rocky did not want to shine it directly on his friend’s body, he set about careful tests on the barrier of his suit. Human skin could only handle a tiny fraction of heat variation before burning from either hot or cold, and they received most of this variation from light itself, but that was not something that one solution here on Erid could fix.
Grace had lost so much body mass, so much weight. He shivered all the time, even in his sleep. (Rocky should have noticed something sooner. Rocky should have NOTICED.)
Finally satisfied that the warmth radiating from the surface of his suit would not harm Friend Grace, Rocky allowed himself into the careful nest he had built, settling in at Grace’s side. Atmosphere… complete. Light… working. Warmth… attained.
Food was a work in progress, but Armando, who only turned to the left now after his reinstalment in Grace’s biodome, was prepared with fluids. Grace would not die of dehydration, no… He would either starve of hunger or give in to one of many sicknesses Rocky could not understand, could not touch.
I hate this, he told Grace, even though Grace could not hear; even though Grace was asleep. He talked anyway, afraid of hearing nothing; afraid of the silence. I hate that my only way of saving you repeats your tragedy. I hate that I need to move you while you sleep. I hate that your body is not your own.
Grace did not answer him, of course. Grace breathed shallowly, unconscious to the world around him, the world built from the ground up to keep him alive.
Please, Rocky begged him, and if he were human, he thought, he would not have been able to contain his cries. Please forgive me for handling you this way. Please adapt here. Please… please live.
“How is he?”
“I see no change.” Rocky shifted stiffly, forcing himself away from Grace. He had been awake for a very, very, very long time, and despite the hungry dread clawing at the inside of him, he knew he could not always watch Grace sleep. It was Adrian’s turn. “Beneath the surface, he may be improving. I have no way of knowing.
“I brought you his electrical devices,” she told him, comfortingly clinical. “If there is more knowledge contained therein about Earthling recovery, you will find it.”
Rocky bounced weakly in relief, stepping outside of the nest. Finally, something to DO. He would be able to perform more research the next time he was awake.
“Dearest,” Adrian interrupted quietly, arresting his creaky movements. “Where… where are you going?”
“Are we not taking turns?” Rocky hesitated on achy limbs, swaying for comfort from side to side. (He did not WANT to rest. He did not want to leave Grace.) “I must sleep.”
“Your suit’s heat will hold for days longer.” Adrian settled in, twisting herself into the rocky surface they had tried to chop up into sand. “You may stay; sleep here.”
Rocky perked up, helplessly relieved, and he remembered that he had forgotten exactly how much stability Adrian’s tone brought to his buzzing thoughts. Exactly how much light she had to offer; a factual hope. “Really? I can stay with Friend Grace?”
“You have bonded with this species for survival,” Adrian purred logically, settled. “Your flaking has worsened the longer you have been apart, even in your own atmosphere. It would be unwise to separate you from him for longer than necessary.”
Almost in disbelief, Rocky crawled back into the nest, settling in at Grace’s other side. (So as not to provide only one side with his warmth, of course.) His hum of gratitude was quiet by necessity, but sincere. He could sense Adrian’s upper planes vibrate with her pleased response.
She was happy. Here, at Rocky’s side, finally able to watch over him even as he spiraled, unable to provide her with his full attention… she was at peace.
Rocky was finally able to sleep.
“Something is wrong.”
Rocky shot up onto all five feet, barely awake enough to sense the world around him. Adrian… Adrian was here; Adrian’s voice. It was Hour Sixteen; the lights would be darkening. Grace…
Grace?
“Something is wrong,” Adrian repeated fitfully, pacing. “He does not wake up; he is barely moving.”
Rocky checked Grace’s vitals again, frantically zoning in. Grace’s body was so hollow, so echoey, and every movement had all but stopped.
His heartbeat slowed, faint. Thump… thump… thump…
Rocky shook Armando, crowing in dismay, but the robot was not doing anything. Had Rocky broken Grace’s only hope at life support, or was there simply nothing TO do? Was Grace finally dying of starvation? Sickness?! Failure to thrive???
“We have already introduced the synthesized nutrition to his tube of liquid,” Adrian chattered nervously, unusually shaken. “We have retested based on your every note. He IS being fed.”
“It is not enough,” Rocky snapped harshly, and as he said it, he quivered at his own anger, his own terror crackling underneath. Grace was dying. Grace finally had synthesized food and warmth and light, and Grace was still dying.
It wasn’t enough. None of it was enough.
“Friend,” he keened, and his cries reverberated through his suit. He collapsed on top of Grace’s frail body, careful not to crush his delicate bones. “Friend Grace. Friend Grace. Please, please don’t leave me, please… PLEASE…”
Grace breathed shallowly, every sign of life fading away, and Rocky could barely hear his heartbeat.
“Grace,” he wailed, shoving his arms under his friend’s body, trying in vain to hold on. “Grace… Grace… Grace…”
Adrian crouched next to the nest, quietly observing his grief. She would not join in… not yet. Not until it was over.
Rocky did not think he had the strength to witness the Over.
As he squeezed, Grace’s body took in a shuddering breath.
“Grace?” Rocky zoned back in on Grace’s heartbeat, trying to see through the crippling emotion; the anger, the terror, the grief. Humans needed what? What else was he missing? Something, something right there, something on the very edge of his understanding… but when all else failed, what else WAS there? Something that would encourage Grace’s body to hang on, even by a thread, even when it was too late. Something---
Oh.
Hooting to regulate his misery, Rocky settled urgently back into the nest. He gathered Grace’s body, a fragile skeleton with not enough squishy, and held him in a cocoon of blankets. He applied careful, gentle pressure.
A hug, Grace had called it once, but maybe this was more than human custom. So much of Grace’s enrichment was based on touch; Rocky had watched him play with climbing ropes, with a bouncing ball, with gifted xenonite. When he was excited or happy, he clapped; he fistbumped; he danced. When he was upset or afraid, he combed a hand through his hair; when he was angry, he touched his hips; when he was sad, he touched his face. When Grace slept, he wrapped his arms around his own body, and Rocky had never even thought to ask why.
“It is working,” Adrian suddenly trilled, rising on towering legs. “He still breathes.”
Rocky cradled Grace’s limp head very gently, conscious of the limited range of motion his spine was supposed to have, and watched his movement. Every exhale of fresh air was now steady; every inhale had deepened. The quiet sound of his heartbeat had strengthened.
It was working.
Cautious of clinging to dangerous hope, Rocky nevertheless quieted his cries. Instinct dropped his tone into a lower register, a hum of sound in the background that lilted gently from note to note; expulsion of emotion more than communication of words.
He had forgotten how to sing around Grace. To sing for laughter and for sadness and for joy. To sing for the sake of it. He had forgotten until he heard his mate’s heavenly tone for the first time in decades.
He hadn’t wanted to sing alone.
Rocky allowed the instinct to carry him, focusing on Grace’s life to the exclusion of all else. Everything faded away, every passing moment slowed to a crawl until it was just him; just him and Grace’s breaths and Grace’s heartbeats.
It was easy, wasn’t it? Now that he was actually noticing. To mimic the human contact; the connection Grace’s body was apparently missing. There was something special that Grace’s species communicated to each other through social touch; not just customary, of that Rocky was sure, but behaviorally; biologically, and surely… surely psychologically.
Grace’s entire being had been deprived of everything it needed for so very long--- A tenth of his life so far. It believed him to be alone. (If humans were alone for long enough, did they lose the will to thrive, to live?)
Grace’s being had to understand that he wasn’t alone.
Rocky nestled Grace’s body softly into the nest, allowing him to provide a more thorough pressure from all sides, and checked obsessively on the fragile bend of soft-crunchy-soft bones. (Gentle… gentle.) He turned Grace’s head so that his airway was open (gentle), and kept him wrapped in at least two arms for maximum effect (gentle). Then… focusing on the shifting of his own carapace somewhere deeeeeeeep in his core… Rocky managed to mimic the rhythm of Grace’s heartbeat. Thump… thump-thump… thump-thump… thump-thump… thump-thump…
Grace’s body pulled a deeeeeeeep sigh, shaking with the force of it. His limbs relaxed, easing away from the frightening stiffness of before, and to Rocky’s astonishment, his strengthening heartbeat responded. He could see it clearly as it sped to match Rocky’s mimicry, perfectly in sync.
Oh, Rocky thought, in awe. This must be why humans need it.
“Beautiful,” Adrian voiced quietly.
“Amaze amaze amaze,” the thinking-machine translated.
Rocky chirped hopefully. Maybe they weren’t to the Over quite yet.
Grace slept for a very long time, but Rocky finally didn’t mind. He took turns with his mate to watch over their friend’s rest. Adrian brought him food whenever he refused to leave the dome, and he refused to leave the dome as long as the suit was still working between brief periods of refill.
Adrian was around all the time now, successful in her work with her scientists, with the taumoeba that Rocky heard was on its way to saving their planet, but he still found it difficult to fully appreciate any of it. What kind of place would Erid be without its savior? Especially if Grace died on the surface as his own work helped the surface to live.
Rocky could not claim credit alone; the burden was not his to carry. He had merely assisted in their quest. Grace had done all the work. Grace had risked his safety to collect the tiny microorganisms that would save their worlds. Grace had given up his life in order to save Rocky’s planet, Rocky’s species, Rocky’s mate.
Now that he understood what helped, what tiny component was missing from Grace’s treatment, Rocky knew exactly what to research. It was a bit difficult since he could not yet read or write in a language that Grace’s thinking-machine would recognize, but he had learned several keywords during the in-between time on their journey when he was watching over Grace’s long sleeps. He made do.
The thinking-machine had much to say on the function of human biology. Rocky explored everything, just in case, by ruling out something tangentially related, he might miss something. Thankfully, the information he needed did not seem a complex matter of science. It was much, much closer, in fact, to Rocky’s expertise--- The predictable patterns of engineering.
Human bodies did not require much touch in order to thrive, not nearly as much as Rocky had been catastrophizing. The finer points, such as pheromonal or skin-on-skin approaches to the topic, did worry him a little--- No matter how much work he put in, he would never be able to bridge those particular gaps. Behavioral, psychological benefits and types and lengths of touching, however; those were much simpler.
It was a cruel trick of reality, Rocky knew, to continue to touch Grace without Grace watching. He knew the agency that Grace had lost; the autonomy that had been violently ripped away from him. This, however, was different. This was not touch for the sake of murdering. This was touch for the sake of saving.
He tried to stay respectful. He alternated between gentle hugging, gentle cradling, and gentle rocking. Grace’s body responded most positively to the pressure of hugging, especially when he could feel Rocky’s mimicry of a human heartbeat; it was almost as if the sound was commanding him to live.
Then, too, were even softer things. Gently kneading Grace’s hands. Purring against Grace’s skull. Learning to comb his xenonite-covered claws through Grace’s fluffy hair.
It awed Rocky how much everything he tried seemed to be helping. Grace’s body finally accepted the synthesized nutrients; his bones began very slowly to gain back the squishy. His heartbeat strengthened, never once faltering, and he started to move in his sleep.
Rocky was so relieved by the proof of life, the miracle, the mercy that he was completely blindsided by the nightmares.
“Stop… please… don’t send me, don’t… please…”
Rocky stood up, alarmed; it was lucky he had not yet entered full sleep. “Grace? Grace wake up, question? Grace?”
“Why is he doing that?” Adrian asked sharply as Grace’s body flailed. “He is going to hurt himself; he will break something.”
“Grace?” Rocky scampered to Grace’s head, trying to get a proper read, but Grace was… still sleeping?! “I do not understand; he is not awake.”
“He will break---” Adrian cut herself off as Grace’s entire spine arched, snapping into the air; she pinned his legs at once, moving the blankets to protect his flailing head, and tried to hold him down, to keep him from moving.
“Stop---” Grace’s chest flexed, spasming; huge gasps of air, huge sobs; sounds of pure desperation that scraped at the insides of Rocky’s listening openings. “Stop--- Don’t do it, don’t do it, PLEASE!!!”
“Let him go,” Rocky cried urgently, frightened. “Let him go, let Grace free!!!”
“He is out of his mind; he is hurting himself---”
“He is hurting himself because he is afraid; this is not making him less afraid!!!” Rocky reared upright, shoving at one of Adrian’s limbs with all his might. The movement did nothing to budge her weight, but the action was enough to make her retreat on her own, noises of reproachful hurt emitting from her carapace.
Rocky ignored the instant guilt, scampering after Grace; he was awake now, he was backing into the nearby wall of the biodome; he was pressing himself against the warm xenonite wall, hiding.
Hiding.
“Grace is safe,” Rocky said carefully, head swimming with every possible comfort he could say, every platitude, but he chose carefully for the sake of the limited translation ability of the thinking-machine. “Grace is here, on Erid. Grace remember Rocky, question? Rocky save Grace. Rocky bring Grace home.”
Grace’s body trembled with weakness; he was so noticeably small, so exposed outside of his maintained sickbed. “I can’t… I can’t… I’m not brave enough…”
“Grace,” Rocky keened softly, and the thinking-machine failed to pick it up; he had combined Grace’s name with the ancient word for friend that was only meant to be used on the most special, the most precious, the most loved. “Grace, is Rocky. Rocky will not hurt Grace.”
Grace’s limbs slowly uncurled themselves. Rocky could see his face now. It was leaking. “Please… please don’t make me.”
“Rocky WON’T.” He inched closer, keeping himself pressed to the ground, as small as possible, and touched Grace’s leg. “Rocky won’t make Grace. Grace is home. Grace is safe.”
A shaking, desperate gasp of air. Grace’s face contorted, blurry lines of sound obscured by the agony of his cries. “R-Rocky?”
As soon as Grace reached out, Rocky crept in. He wrapped two arms around Grace’s chest, one around his neck, and regulated the pressure. Then he purred.
Grace’s body heaved, wracking violently with every sob. His heartbeat was fast fast fast; his fingers shook, clawing weakly at Rocky’s suit to hold on.
“Safe,” Rocky continued to tell him, letting Grace touch. “Safe.”
Grace’s body battled against its grief. Rocky slowly found that he did not mind those cries. The crying was proof of life. The crying was RELIEF.
Grace’s body was back to fighting.
He woke up to the shivery feeling of something gentle stroking his scalp.
Grace breathed in, delicious freshness entering his nose. He could smell a familiar metal… an earthy dirt… a gentle breeze. He could taste old blood. He could feel soothing warmth. In his hands… around his chest… against his spine.
A cough shook his aching body. The gentle humming, layers of songlike conversation happening just over his head between at least two people, fell silent. A second later, a tube poked at his dry lips.
“Here; Grace drink,” a familiar voice told him.
Grace sipped warily. Water. Slowly, much more slowly than the painful flashes of memory, it all started coming back to him. Like a dream… like a half-forgotten movie. Like something he’d been too safe to fully experience.
Grace cracked his eyes open, staring up at a gentle ambient blue. It reflected in angles, like a jewel, and the fresh air blew his tickly hair across his face. His body was so warm.
He hadn’t been this warm in… in years. The warmth of true rest. The warmth of guilt-free sleep. The warmth of a gentle, bright, lazy summer day.
“Rock?” he whispered, and it was weak, but Rocky heard him. Rocky had always been listening. Grace could see him now, a crooked outline backlit by artificial light that perfectly mimicked the sun. He was bouncing. He was excited. Heeeee was outside of his ball. (How…?)
“Good,” he trilled, and Grace didn’t even need the computer to understand. “Grace home now. Grace SAFE, Grace AWAKE. Happy happy happy.”
Grace closed his burning eyes again, letting the gentle hum of Eridian conversation wash over him, and wrapped one weak arm impossibly around his best friend’s body. “Jus’… five more minutes.”
Rocky settled in, draping two heavy arms across Grace’s chest, and started purring. “Friend better now, statement. Is full good. Rocky watch Grace sleep.”