Chapter Text
Thro' many dangers, toils, and snares,
I have already come;
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.
— John Newton, Amazing Grace (1779)
— 1 Earth-week after the Return
Adrian first met Grace when it was sleeping— the “long sleep”, or what Grace’s people called a “coma”.
At first, they had thought that Grace was awake. Even while in the deepest sleep to its species, the alien was noisy. A constant harmony of its internal organs working to keep it alive, buoyed on the steady tha-thump of its singular heart, like an eternal thrum singing in its long, skinny, and soft body.
But Grace was unresponsive.
Their mate anxiously rubbed their carapace against Adrian’s.
“It's not usually so weak… When we first met, Grace was full of life. We danced together,” Rocky trilled quietly.
That was a strange thing about Rocky. Adrian was used to the bold and bombastic engineer who couldn’t give less of a shit about the opinions of anybody—who moved where they pleased and in the manner they were inclined to.
This Rocky, who had spent I+VIIV+ days alone in the vast silence of space and then ∀I+λλ days with only a fragile, dying alien for company was, for lack of a better word, meek.
“All will be well, my heart,” Adrian intoned softly, soothing the edges of Rocky’s shivering vents.
Adrian was lying, of course.
It was nearly an impossible task what Rocky was asking of them.
First, the process of synthesizing completely alien sustenance. Long, complex strands of molecules of the nutrients and vitamins and minerals that Grace was severely lacking in that seemed completely foreign to anything Adrian had ever encountered.
Second, the numerous afflictions that Grace was suffering— the innumerable and incomprehensible ways its nebulous body had broken and lacked the energy to heal.
Third, how would they replicate the alien’s home environment to comfortably house it on Erid for the time it healed? Right now, Adrian and Rocky were in xenonite exosuits aboard the Hail Mary, approximately ∀ℓ∀Iℓ+ kilometers away from the Eridian surface. The atmosphere around them was thin and highly flammable. Rocky had activated something called a “centrifuge” that replicated the alien’s preferred range of basically bouncy gravity.
There were a million environmental factors alone to consider to the question of “How to keep Grace alive?” They couldn’t just keep Grace on its ship—that made it inaccessible to the team of Eridian scientists interested in this impossible endeavor, including Adrian themself.
But Adrian was used to impossible things happening—their mate had come home after all.
“My heart, we need to let Field Medicinary ♫♩♪♩ study Grace so they can begin construction of the medical tank.” Adrian started to gently pull their mate away from the alien. Surprisingly, they went willingly. “Will you show me Armando?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Rocky murmured, and they started to guide Adrian to the towering robotic arms in the corner of the room, as they ignored the sounds of ♫♩♪♩ tapping their claws all over the alien’s malnourished body.
— 0.23 Earth-years before the launch
Adrian had tried desperately to stop Rocky from going up to the stars.
They remember the day that Rocky brought it up with them… Adrian was busy in their lab, producing variants of worker cells to hopefully treat the onslaught of diseases brought on by the cooling climates. The effects of the star-dim were starting to seriously endanger the people living by the Arpeggiated Jungles, the hottest parts of Erid—introducing diseases usually associated with colder regions. Their eldest hatchmate had been there on a work trip, and was caught up in the quarantine.
Adrian was stressed—and frazzled. They barely even acknowledged their mate, who was standing in the doorway, thorax lowered to the ground as if carrying a heavy weight.
“Adrian, my heart?” they intoned. “May we speak?”
Adrian huffed out a chirp. (Not now— I’m busy, for those non-fluent in Adrian.)
Rocky sighed. “It cannot wait.”
Adrian stamped their claw, frustrated, into the ground, and burst out in song: “Is the planet freezing? Are whole clans being evacuated out of their ancestral caves? Is sickness spreading across the equator? If so, then—”
“They want me to go on the ship as Second Engineer.”
Adrian sputtered to a stop.
“What… On the voyage?”
“Yes.” Rocky nervously rubbed their claws together. “To assist the First Engineer in maintaining the star-eater tanks.”
Which was Rocky’s own invention. And yet, they were positioning Rocky as Second Engineer?
It was ridiculous, but that was honestly all Adrian thought about at that moment. How unfair the world was to always force Rocky into these subordinate positions, despite their intellect, despite their contributions.
But Adrian didn’t voice those thoughts. They remained silent, stunned into stillness.
“I told them I would do it.” Rocky approached them gently. “Adrian, it’s necessary. We must do all we can to save Erid. Those were your words, right?”
Unfair. Unfair, unfair, unfair. Why was all of this so unfair?
“But…”
“They need me,” Rocky cut in. “I know I can be of use on this mission.”
“You can’t be useful on Erid? You’ve already contributed so much; your star-dimmer tanks have so many uses once we introduce it to other industries—”
“What else have I done since I’ve invented those? I’ve sat hole-first on my fucking thorax while everyone else has worked until sleep on the voyage.”
“You helped to build the ship!”
“Yes, as an extra set of claws! Any educated Engineer could have done my role!”
“But you can do so much more if you stay on Erid! There’s already talks of constructing mass underground cities, it’d be so much better for everyone if we had access to your innovation to oversee that project. I could talk with my Clan Elder to get you more involved.”
“Stop thinking about my career! None of that fucking matters if Erid just freezes over!”
Adrian smashed a claw into the ground.
They were a sizable Eridian. The impact of their claw left a crater in the lab floor, and the air around them seemed to ring with the sound of the ground cracking.
Their vents flared—“They can’t just use you and then throw you to the stars!”
Rocky was silent this time.
“Is that what you think?” Rocky asked, tentatively. “That they’re using me?”
“It’s not what I think”—Adrian’s claws shook as they picked up their tools—”it’s what I know. Haven’t you noticed? A majority of Eridians at the job-appointment thrums are old-blood, and they refused their younger Clan members who wanted to join the voyage. Yet they have no qualms about sending a third-generation Engineer on an experimental space mission, and no qualms about me becoming Lead Medicinary despite my lack of experience.”
“You became Lead Medicinary because of your qualifications,” Rocky intoned softly. “Like how I’m appointed Second Engineer because of mine.”
“The world is more biased than you think, Rocky.”
Their mate chittered quietly. Laughing.
“I do know, actually.”
They left Adrian to their work.
—
That was not the last time they would speak on this issue, and it would not be the last time Adrian tried to convince them to sign off the mission. In fact, up until the day Rocky was set to depart, Adrian was vehemently against them going.
But Rocky was stubborn, and their position never swayed.
Finally, launch day arrived. As the other astronauts were loading up the ship, Rocky grabbed Adrian’s claws and started rubbing their forearms soothingly. Goodbye, I love you; an intimate, intimate, intimate gesture in the regions Rocky hailed from. But it also could mean: See you soon.
“It’s not forever, Adrian,” Rocky whispered. “I promise I’ll be back.”
Adrian could not speak. They only grabbed Rocky and pressed their carapaces flush, humming a low frequency that encapsulated their apprehension, their fear, and their love.
They let Rocky go, but let their limbs linger on theirs.
Rocky pulled away, and disappeared into the ship.
— 76 Earth-years after the Launch
“Adrian!”
Assistant burst into the room, disrupting the thrum with loud, disharmonious honks of Adrian’s name. The melodies sputtered to a stop and the council of Infrastructuralists twittered, displeased, as the Eridian scuttled madly into the center of the reverb chamber.
“Where are you? I cannot make you out!”
“Over here, for Song’s sake… Stop making a fuss,” Adrian intoned deeply, lumbering out from their place in the upper steps.
“Apology, apology,” their Assistant rushed up to them. “I wanted you to be among the first to know… There is a ship in Erid’s orbit!”
“What?” Adrian felt all five of their hearts pause.
Suddenly, the council burst into a screeching discordance as all the Eridians in the chamber directed an onslaught of inquiries towards Assistant. The individual voices climbed louder and louder in volume in demand to be heard—the reverb chamber amplifying each voice—and Assistant twitched at the forefront of the auditory attack.
“Please, cease your song!” they called out to the room. “Please, cease!”
The Infrastructuralists continued screeching out their questions, until Adrian stood taller and boomed out—
“CEASE.”
All were quiet.
Adrian felt their vents heave and shudder.
“Please excuse me, honored colleagues. My Assistant and I will take our leave now, as I have urgent business to attend to.”
“Yes! It is sensitive information—only Adrian may hear.”
“Now, wait a moment—” a Clan Elder began to say but Adrian quickly interrupted.
“NO.” Adrian stomped their claw in the ground, not enough to break it, but enough to create a shockwave of sound. A show of strength—something that had evolved from a provocation of war. “I will not wait.”
The Clan Elder moved to bow their thorax—submission.
Adrian turned to Assistant.
“Quickly, let’s take our leave,” they whispered.
Once the pair exited the room, Assistant immediately began running and Adrian broke into a jog to keep up.
“The thrum is taking place at the Inter-Clan Star Center—many loved ones of astronauts are there already. Other Assistants are spreading the message and news is spreading quickly—but we are only allowed to say that a ship is in orbit.”
“A ship in orbit?” Adrian honked frustratedly. “Not the ship?”
“A ship. That’s all I’m allowed to say.”
At last, they reached the entrance to the Inter-Clan Star Center.
Before Adrian could enter, Assistant grabbed their forearm.
“This is as far as I’m allowed to go, Clan Elder Adrian. Steady your hearts, and may your harmonies resonate.”
Adrian’s claw twitched.
'Allowed.'
“Thank you, sincerely,” Adrian said, and they rushed into the center.
The halls passed in a blur of sound. Adrian heard many voices, felt claws brush their forearms to steer them in which direction to go, and then melt away into the background. It was all noise to them.
The nascent notes of a just-starting thrum were humming in one reverb-chamber that strangely had their doors open. Adrian heard whisperings of star-eater, voyage, and alien… Adrian ran toward it.
The chamber was full of a variety of Eridians from all industries and hives, most in Adrian’s age range or even older. Some were young and few were only just graduate pebbles. Carapaces that Adrian hasn’t sung with in a long time.
There was only room in the back, and though it would be misconduct to allow a Clan Elder to be placed in such a subservient position, Adrian settled quickly.
An Eridian—one that Adrian recognized from their old days of Acting Lead Medicinary—began to sing. The Main Designer of the star-ship, the one who had recommended Rocky to go up. Adrian had not sung with them in many, many, many years. Their last interaction had been a physical altercation.
Old memories seemed to flood Adrian’s veins, and they had to squeeze their claws together to remain calm.
“We will begin the thrum,” came their familiar raspy tones. “May our harmonies resonate.”
And every Eridian in the room began singing…
♫♬♪♩ ♭ ♮ ♯
Adrian left the thrum with an emptiness in their thorax.
All were dead. All but one.
All but the one that was theirs.
They heard broken cries from the other loved ones, wails coalescing in a song that Adrian could not partake in.
In many ways, the news had been merciful, even with the misery it brought. Adrian remembered the long nights of waiting for Rocky, years and years past the launch date—years and years of not knowing whether Rocky was safe. It had been agony to think otherwise, and torture to know that either was plausible.
All dead, but one.
“Radiation…,” Adrian murmured.
How horrific.
The rest of the thrum members had begun a mourning song.
Adrian left the center in a daze of unnamed emotion. They stumbled in the streets like a drunken pariah until they reached their home. Collapsing into their half-empty nest, Adrian felt the blood in their veins grow sluggish and cold.
In the thrum, they had played a recording of Rocky’s voice to explain radiation. Their mate sounded so… tired.
Adrian lay a claw on the wall and squeezed so harshly that it cracked.