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“Stupid human, drink taumoeba!” Rocky says.
“I can’t,” I whine. “It tastes so bad!”
Why am I behaving like a baby when all my best friend is trying to do is help? Because I’m tired. And I’m hungry. And I think I might throw up if I have to drink this taumoeba. Sure, it’s got calories. And it looks like a milkshake, but it does not taste like a milkshake, unless that milkshake were made by Satan. Really, I’m starting to believe in the devil. We’re four months away from Erid, and the coma slurry is running low. I’ve been forced to supplement with alien amoebas. I’m currently curled in the fetal position on my floor bed clutching my stomach, trying to get the pain to go away. Why am I on the floor? Because I fell out of bed one time and broke a rib because I’m so fragile now and now I’m not allowed to sleep in my bed anymore according to self-appointed Dr. Rocky.
Rocky comes over carrying my beaker of yuck and a chess board.
“We play game, question?” he asks.
I look up. “What kind of game?” I ask skeptically.
“We play chess game, make Grace feel better,” he says. I taught him chess years ago, once he was able to make a textured xenonite board. I made the pieces on the 3D printer, with white having a smooth surface and black having a textured surface. He’s a formidable opponent. I sit up slowly so the room doesn’t spin.
“Ok, sure. Let’s play chess,” I say. I’m cold all the time now, so I pull my quilt over my shoulders. He lets me be white. I make the first move—pawn to e4. I stare at Rocky. He’s not moving. Geez, it’s just the beginning of the game, how hard can it be to come up with a move?
“Buddy? Ya gonna move?” I say, coughing.
“Rocky move when Grace take sip of taumoeba.”
“No. No, no, no. You tricked me,” I say, officially offended. He hands me the taumoeba.
“Drink,” he says.
I sigh and take the darn beaker. I close my eyes. “It’s just a milkshake,” I say to myself. I take a swig. My face puckers. “Ok, you happy you sadistic rock?” I say.
“Yes, Rocky very happy. Now Rocky move.” He moves a pawn to d5.
God, I hope this is a short game. I capture his pawn. “Ha! That’s what you get for making me drink this!”
“Yes, Grace very ruthless. Now drink.”
I take a moment to collect myself and take another drink. My stomach makes a gurgling sound. I hold my stomach and will it to stop. The Rocky takes my pawn with his queen.
“Oh, that’s how it is? Real mature,” I say. I threaten the queen with my knight. “Take that!” Oh crackers, my turn is over, so now I have to drink again.
“Rocky this is the worst drinking game ever invented,” I say, taking another gulp of the sludge.
“Yes, Rocky the worst,” he says sarcastically. He retreats. “Your turn.”
“Oh boy!” I say, glaring at him as I move my pawn to d4. I take another disgusting drink still glaring. This would be much more satisfying if he had eyes. He moves his pawn to c6.
“Grace brave,” Rocky says.
“Pfsh,” I say. I look away. “No I’m not.” I move my knight to f3 and take a deep breath before reaching the beaker back to my lips and tilting my head back. I try to just open my throat so I don’t have to taste it, but it makes me gag. Luckily I manage to swallow it before everything comes back up. I give Rocky a thumbs up. He moves his bishop to g4.
“Yes, Grace is brave. Grace always say not brave. Why, question?”
I move my bishop to f4. “I’m not brave, I am barely hanging on. And I’m scared,” I say, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I wipe them and take a drink.
“Grace scared, but Grace still going anyway. Courage,” he says as he moves his pawn to e6.
I try unsuccessfully to hold back tears. “I couldn’t do it without you, though. I’m not brave on my own.” I move my pawn to h3. At least I can’t smell the taumoeba now that my nose is all stuffy from crying. I take a drink. I’m only halfway through. Rocky captures my knight.
“Grace find somebody to be brave for,” he says.
My thoughts turn to Yao and what he said all those years ago. Another life. He was right. Stratt was right. I’m not right. Not right now. I quietly take one of Rocky’s bishops. I set it down and take my drink. He moves the other one to b4. We play quietly for a while, neither of us talking, me sipping my disgusting goo. Rocky’s Eridian manners around eating went by the wayside years ago. Nothing fazes him now.
I leave my queen open, hoping he takes the bait. He goes for it with a pawn. Oh, Rocky. I move my bishop to a6. Checkmate. I take the last swig of my drink.
“Grace sacrifice queen,” says Rocky.
“Betcha didn’t see that coming,” I say.
“No. Is not unusual for Grace to sacrifice,” he says.
“Good game,” I say, offering my hand.
“Good game,” he replies, and I shake his claw.
My stomach full, I lay back down on my bed. Rocky packs up the game. As I drift off to sleep, Rocky’s words echo in my head.
Maybe I am brave.