Chapter Text
Adrian wants to hide. It wasn't a new feeling to the Eridian, a constant, ever-present ache that had settled over their hearts ever since their mate stepped onto that ship all those years ago. It remains now as they work their way around their science building, listening to their fellow Eridians chitter around nervously. Not only that, but it had been so terribly long since their first starship had left their planet's surface, and only recently had the final life support system given out. Adrian pretends like their soul hadn't been torn apart with the information. They need a distraction, something to take their energy from mourning their mate.
So when their newly developed space exploration cluster reached out about a new moon discovered on the edge of their star system, Adrian all but raced to secure a spot. Based on their scans, the moon seemed to be covered in some strange liquid; its composition was a mix of organic matter, oxygen, and carbon. Around them, their fellow scientists move around their sensors, sound spilling into the air from the most recent readings.
It's, quite frankly, a mess of disgusting, squishy sounds. Thick liquid sloshing around, rhythmic thumping that Adrian could only describe as an erratic heartbeat after running around all day.
It's concerning. Their fellow scientists and space specialists hum in equal parts with disgust and interest. Adrian taps their claws together anxiously, listening to the recordings sent back from the satellite. It's alive. This mysterious celestial body, floating only a few days away from Erid, was a living organism.
“It appeared out of nowhere.” Their coworker hums beside them, claws tapping against the edge of their satellite system. “We would've noticed it months ago if it were a regular rogue moon passing through. Not only that, but our specialist thinks there's something else."
"Something else?" Adrian turns their body in curiosity. They consider the reality of meeting another lifeform, of making first contact with an alien species. For what has to be the 1,000th time, Adrian thinks of their mate. ♪♫♪♫ would love to be here, clamoring for the opportunity to connect with intelligent life. They felt their vents flare with the weight of their grief.
"Yes, something else," Thier coworker, ♪♪♪, turns to their radio and twists a few knobs and adjustments until a strange voice spills out into the open air.
"Hǝllo¿ Ԁlǝɐsǝ¿ ∀ʌǝ dlǝɐsǝ I ƃoʇ ʇɥǝ qox' ʎon dɹoɯᴉsǝp' ʎon dɹoɯᴉsǝp ᴉp qǝ ɟɹǝǝ˙ I pᴉp ǝʌǝɹʎʇɥᴉuƃ ʎon ɐsʞǝp˙ Ԁlǝɐsǝ' qɹᴉuƃ ɯǝ nd˙" it cried out desperately, and despite the fact Adrian couldn't quite understand what it was saying, their fear and desperation transcended language and species.
"Oh," Adrian found themselves becoming very, very still. There was a creature trapped within the endless, suffocating waves of the mysterious, thick ocean. An intelligent, terrified alien species that was so desperate to live that it managed to send its radio signals all the way to Erid. Something aches deeply in their core at their continued pleas,
"Help! Please. Please," it sobs again, and Adrian can pretty easily put together what it said this time. Worst of all, its cries make their soul ache in the way a pebble's cries would. It makes them shift side to side nervously, listening close to ♪♪♪ as they reach to shut off the radio.
"Wait," Adrian carefully reaches out to stop them, listening intently to the recordings. Not just the voice, but the groaning and whining of whatever vessel it resided in. "Is there any way to communicate back?"
"You want to talk to it? There's no way for us to understand each other. Besides, the moon is mostly oxygen-rich liquid; we can't touch it," ♪♪♪ stomps their claws in irritation.
"It's scared and trapped. Even if we cannot save its life, the least we can do is try to communicate, " make sure it doesn't die alone down there. Adrian can't stop thinking about the lone life support system that kept itself running for 7605 seconds before finally fading. Whoever remained on that ship died alone.
Adrian couldn't fix that .
Adrian can fix this.
♪♪♪ taps their claws together in what can only be frustration. They grumble something Adrian hears but doesn't pay attention to, because they twist another knob and gesture for them to talk.
"Hello, can you hear me?" Adrian walks forward until they're right next to the speaker, tapping the table before them until they get a clear picture of their radio. For a species that speaks as elaborate as the ocean dweller, it's no surprise that their melodious notes shock them into a stunned silence.
"What?? ʇɥǝ ɟnɔʞ ᴉs ʇɥɐʇ," the thing mutters softly, a hint of perhaps horror creeping into his tone.
"My name is ♪♫♫♫, a scientist on Erid. We discovered the moon you're on and picked up your call," Adrian explains gently, softening their tone like they're talking to their pebble.
"Iʇ,s ɟnɔʞᴉuƃ ʍᴉʇɥ ɯǝ˙ Iʇ ɥɐs ʇo qǝ˙ Iɯ ƃoᴉuƃ ɔɹɐzʎ˙ Hɐɥɐɥɐ' ᴉʇs dlɐʎᴉuƃ ɟnɔʞᴉu ɟnuǝɹɐl ɯnsᴉɔ ɐʇ ɯǝ¡ Ⅎnɔʞ¡" the creature lets out a half laugh, half sobbing gasping noise, voice becoming muffled and distorted. Adrian warbles again, softer this time, a sad little noise that mixes with its cries.
"Has there been any luck in locating the source of the radio signal?"
“A little, we sent a probe over about a cycle ago, but when our space specialists went near it to study it after, they got very sick and haven't gotten better despite our best efforts. The moon itself seems to be infected with some strange sickness.” ♪♪♪ explains, which only makes Adrians hearts ache more. This poor thing is likely already horribly sick, stuck beneath the waves of congealed liquid with no hope of survival. It sounds so sad about that fact, too.
“Is there any way to test the liquid, or is that contaminated?”
“Contaminated,”
“Fuck,” Adrian taps her claws sadly, acutely aware of the creatures continued sobs and groans. It continues its strange breathy speech, though Adrian can't tell if it's talking to itself, whoever sent it down there, or them.
“Mɥʎ¿ Mɥʎ ɔɐu,ʇ ʎon ɾnsʇ lǝɐʌǝ ɯǝ ɐlouǝ¿,” It whimpers, and Adrian unconsciously lets out a calming purr. The same one they use for their own clutch. What's even more surprising is that it seems to work. The creature seems to calm ever so slightly, cooing in return like a pebble responds to its parent. Adrian knows this thing's fate, they know that getting attached is only going to hurt even more when they inevitably let it die. But…
“I want to recover it, I don't care how. This moon could be our solution. This creature could be our solution,” Adrian circles the radio a few times as if it'll be enough to burn the anxious energy filtering through them. Despite the clear risk and argument already bubbling from their coworker, Adrian is already rushing to their designated work station, shoving aside everything that's unimportant and grabbing a board to write on. It'll take at least 3 cycles before they're anywhere close to getting any answers, and Adrian highly doubts they'll bring it back alive. But it deserves its freedom.
Adrian will ensure it gets to exist beyond the toxic waves of its prison one last time.
It's disgusting. Adrian had prepared themselves for such a case, considering it survived in oxygen-rich, cold bioliquid and lived in an even colder, oxygen-rich atmosphere. They stand behind a protective barrier of their strongest metal and layers of star eating fuel. Through various trials and errors, they discovered that the only Eridians to survive unharmed of the sickness were the ones closest to the fuel ranks.
Adrian stands there now, silently observing the creature as it stumbles around its prison, which Adrian recognized as a crude submersible. Another pang echoed throughout their entire being as they remembered the cluster their mate originated from, an ocean side collection of engineers and explorers.
Yet still, Adrian does their best to ignore the sheer discomfort that runs through their limbs at the sound of its squishy insides. The proportions of it are all wrong, spindly limbs that are far longer than its main body, and it seems only to have 4. Er. 3. It appears that some acute bodily trauma resulted in the loss of one of its upper movement limbs, its stump left bleeding and torn.
Through the metal walls of its weird submersible, Adrian can hear it moving back and forth through the thick liquid and pooling around its walking limbs. It's strange and balances on just 2 of its limbs, using its remaining upper one to feel along the inside of its confinement.
"∀ɹǝ ʎon˙˙˙ ∀ɹǝ ʎon sʇᴉll ʇɥǝɹǝ¿ Mǝᴉɹp ɯnsᴉɔ ʇɥᴉuƃʎ¿ Ԁlǝɐsǝ ʇǝll ɯǝ ᴉ,ɯ uoʇ ƃoᴉuƃ ɔɹɐzʎ' ᴉ ɔɐu,ʇ ɥɐuplǝ ɐuoʇɥǝɹ ǝʌᴉl ɥɐllnɔᴉuɐʇᴉou," the alien whines, as it angles its head upwards towards a strange box that hangs off the side of the ship. Adrien guesses it's a radio.
"Hello, hello, hello, I'm ♪♫♫♫, you're still safe. I promise." Adrian soothes. allowing their voice boxes to soften once more, tapping the side of their desk to get a better look at it without coming in contact with the highly contaminated metal. Adrian doesn't often interact with soft-flesh beings on Erid, rarely has reason to, so trying to get a read on their body language is incredibly difficult. However, they can make an educated guess. The way its entire body slumped with a sharp release of air? Yeah, Adrien knows relief when they hear it. "Good job, safe now. My team is working to get a read on your atmosphere so you don't die immediately."
"I don't ɟnɔʞᴉuƃ understand," the alien throws up its remaining limb as it speaks, and Adrien can't help but laugh as it does so. Looks like confusion is universal. Eventually, exhaustion seems to overcome the poor thing, and it slumps fully over its control panel.
"Safe safe safe, I'll watch you sleep, hun," they sing, and even though the creature has no way of knowing what they're saying.
"♪♫♫♫," the lead architect approaches with nervous clicks of their claws, doing a little spin as if to psych themselves up. Never a good sign. "Its atmosphere is I∀∀ degrees, difficult to maintain and deadly to us. Will take 6432 seconds to make it secure and protective suits," the architect sings with shifting, nervous tones. Adrian lets out a few affirmative notes.
It would take far too long to build a proper biodome for the thing, even ignoring the fact that none of them knew what exactly their alien liked. There simply wasn't enough time to do so before the stale air within the submersible ran out. The 6432 seconds they had to build a climate- and air -controlled room is barely enough as is.
"Let's get started."