Chapter Text
After the explosion, my first instincts are not to check on myself, but to make sure that Grace is safe.
Where were they? Why weren't they nearby? Had the explosion injured them and damaged the ship? Were we about to be subjected to the vacuum of space?
A few moments pass and I realise that none of those things are about to happen, because I am not on any ship. I am no longer in space. I must have– well. Not forgotten, because this should be almost impossible, but I must have gotten confused somehow. An easy mistake to explain away, since there shouldn't be any reason for explosions on Erid, at least not in the area that I currently find myself in. Although, I struggle to recall the precise location; this isn't a place that I visit often enough to have memorised it beforehand.
The sound of the explosion must have wiped out my internal map of the place. That's why I'd gotten mixed up. Following the logic helps me to ignore the instincts that tell me to check on ship readouts that I don't have access to and do not exist – because I am not in space – and do something actually productive.
I take stock of myself. I'm not badly injured. There is some damage to my carapace, but nothing so serious as to have broken through the outer shell completely. All things considered, the situation could be much worse.
I let out a click and tap two of my claws against the stone beneath me, trying to re-orientate myself. Just as there is stone below me, there is stone above me, too; slabs of it, leaning precariously against one another, but seemingly wedged in place for now. In fact, rubble encases me in every direction, making re-mapping the space even more of a complicated task. Retaining my knowledge of this area likely wouldn't be helpful to me anyway, with how much of this place has been destroyed beyond recognition. There's even some kind of sound-proofing material that has ended up in the blast zone, often interrupting my attempts to locate a path through the debris.
I hadn't been underground before the explosion, that much I knew. Now, I have either ended up a level lower than I had been, or a building must have collapsed onto the road around me. Either way, something had gone badly wrong. There is barely enough space to shuffle around in a circle, and no sign of an exit. Not that I can hear from where I am, anyway.
I can't properly sense the boundaries of this space, I realise. There isn't any soundproof material to hinder me after all. My hearing feels weaker than it should be, and I try to suppress the urge to tap again, to tap louder. If my hearing is damaged, then that won't help. I must keep a stronger hold on logical thinking.
What I can do is call out for help – even if I can't hear a response, that doesn't mean there isn't anyone close enough to hear me. I had been travelling with others, I can remember. They'd been following behind me, accompanying Grace. There's hope yet that rescue is nearby.
Maybe Grace is nearby. I suppress the urge to fidget at the thought of them being in a similar predicament as me. They'd been travelling separately in their xenonite transport, and behind the group of the other eridians. They should be fine. Surely, they should be fine.
…But what if they're not?
What if Grace had gotten unlucky, as they often do? What if they are pinned under rubble that they have no hope of shifting? What if they're stuck, waiting for me to rescue them?
Until now, I have been content to wait and figure things out slowly, but the image of Grace trapped like I am drives me to work quicker. He's probably scared. Alone.
I utter a low-pitched rumble for as long as I can. Then I wait, and listen for a response to my call for help.
Nothing.
It's only when I start to try and move around, intending to carry on calling out from the few other locations I can access, that I notice how sluggish I'm feeling. My limbs want to drag against the stone, and it takes me longer to process the sound input around me.
My body wants to shut down, obviously deeming a sleep-cycle necessary to return itself to full functionality. I can't allow it. I am still needed awake. Grace needs me awake.
I call out again, and once again receive no response in return. In desperation, I crawl to the thinnest section of the wall that I can get a read on with my limited hearing, and try to shift some of the stone. It should be an easy task for me, but I'm far from being at my strongest, and weariness slows my efforts down.
I pull and pull and pull at a rock, until– yes! It pulls free.
And above me, the other slabs of stone shift.
I freeze in place, cursing my haste and my lack of thought. I should be better than this. I know how to judge structural integrity. I need to focus, need to work through the exhaustion, as I have done before, as I had managed to do for decades–
"Rocky?"
Cutting through the sound of debris shifting over my head, comes a voice. No eridian would make sounds like those – there is only one person it can be.
"Grace!" I call out, before I even take the time to process what they might be saying, once again tapping the stones around me to try and pinpoint the human's location. The sound of shifting rubble has come to a stop, leaving my efforts uninterrupted.
Eventually I manage to detect movement, and even the outline of the suit that Grace has to wear to survive in our atmosphere. No details, but it tells me enough to understand the situation. They're above me, pacing the area, seemingly alone.
I call out to Grace again, but they don't respond. "Rocky," Grace calls out instead, "can you hear me?"
I cry out an affirmative even though I know it must be useless. If Grace didn't hear me just then, they can't hear me at all. Their hearing isn't as good as an eridian's, and I am too far away from them.
It doesn't help that my cries are growing weaker, sleep encroaching even faster than it had been before. I have no choice but to slump to the ground, and as I do, my carapace creaks. Mercury moves within the cracks, pooling in places it shouldn't. Exerting myself as I had done when shifting the rubble had been not just a bad idea, but a potentially fatal one – I need medical help, and fast.
I don't dwell on this fact. I don't have any choice in the matter.
As sleep takes hold of me, it's all I can do to focus on the sound of my friend, who has turned to walk away. They're going to leave me down here, and they won't ever know it. It's a thought that scares me more than the fact that I will be sleeping with nobody to watch me. Grace will never forgive themself.
I let out one final wail. The footsteps come to a stop. Then–