Chapter Text
Rocky had come back from the mission... changed, yes. But not transformed. They still liked a particular give to their side of the nest and had to be coaxed away from engineering journal subscriptions at night. Their smaller body fit against Adrian's side the same, rough and comforting. They were still the fussy, bossy, brilliant engineer Adrian had fallen in love with.
Over the years, Adrian had grown used to waiting. Whenever they were asked about the mission, they always said the same, steadfast thing: My mate will return. They are smart and capable, chosen among many. They will fulfill their task and come home to me.
In private, though, images had marched through their mind, each more terrible than the last. The mission team, grasping weakly at the outside of the ship as silvery blood trickled from their shuddering vents... An explosion out in the vacuum, with no one to hear and bear witness to its ground-shaking rumble...
Rocky, exhausted and sleep-deprived, bending over a new invention-- which speared them right through the mouth as it malfunctioned, pinning them to the wall of their lab, their legs twitching before going limp... An unknown space sickness befalling the crew, Rocky's hard, beautiful body crumbling to dust...
Their family all dealt with the stress in different ways. Several of Rocky's siblings seemed to ignore the whole thing, going about their business with calm focus. They'd never been close-- Rocky had told Adrian once that they'd always been "the odd one." They'd said it with a melodious laugh and then chittered in confusion when Adrian fumed quietly.
Some of the young niblings had made them little sculptures, though. A tiny, wobbly replica of Rocky, bending over little balls of metal while several of their sibling-spawn watched in awe. Niblings hoisted up onto Rocky's vents, their little legs raised. A figure of Adrian and Rocky with their claws joined and carapaces tilted happily up.
And Rocky's elderly sire-sibling brought several large boxes that, from their hastily mumbled explanation, contained "jewelry."
The old Eridian had scurried off before Adrian could thank them. Baffled, Adrian had opened the boxes... and found food inside.
Some of Adrian's favorite minerals, which they'd been too harried to prepare. The same lean cuts of meat that'd been consumed during their mating ceremony. And quick, ready-made meals that would not require much effort to consume.
It was a gesture so thoughtful that Adrian shuddered, keening quietly there in the front hall of their domicile. Even after joining their families, neither of them had ever been very close to Rocky's sire-sibling. And yet, they'd gone to such lengths to ensure Adrian was well-fed while their beloved was gone among the stars.
Adrian would tell Rocky, and then they would visit the elderly Eridian together to thank them, when they came back. Because they would come back.
One of Adrian's siblings had tried to get them to move on. To chip off the precious piece of Rocky's shell that was inlaid into Adrian's arm... and find a new mate.
Initially, Rocky's family had approved of their match because of Adrian's even temper and usually calm, if sometimes a little anxious, disposition. They'd thought Adrian would steady the restless, whirling genius of Rocky's mind. In some ways, they were correct. Adrian was a grounding anchor to Rocky's brilliance.
Not that night, though, in front of the dance hall filled with hopeful unmated Eridians. Music hummed through the ground and buffeted the air. Adrian had yelled at their sibling until their gas bladders felt sore, until the booming roar of their voice drowned out the panicked platitudes.
Adrian had staggered home and buried themselves in the nest, which had long since lost all traces of Rocky's compact warmth. In the soundproof quiet, they'd shouted some more, sick with grief and rage-- rough, wordless cries that felt like their body would crack in two.
The greatest stress, though, had borne down on all five of Adrian's hearts after Rocky made contact with Erid from the Hail Mary.
Within a short amount of time, all the fretting that Adrian had kept locked inside bubbled to the surface. What state would Rocky be in, after spending so much time entirely alone? Were they ill, or had this strange 'radiation sickness' truly passed them by? And who-- and what-- was the alien lifeform they were bringing back to Erid?
Adrian's worries had evaporated, though, at that first in-person rumble of Rocky's voice. The chords sounded the same, felt the same, all across Adrian's sensitive auricles. Rocky was still Rocky.
So, even after everything, Adrian still knew their mate. They knew when they were content, or when they were postponing sleep to tinker with some complicated xenonite construction. Which overtones joined their chords when they felt frustrated or sad. What their voice sounded like when they were planning something.
And they were definitely planning something.
"... What do you need me for again?" Adrian asked for the second time.
Under the capable claws of many engineers, the xenonite suits had improved dramatically. Their mesh was fine, almost soft, made up of many, many tiny shards. Adrian situated their claws inside, flexing them, before the automated mechanism closed up the back.
"You'll see," Rocky said. They liked to put Earth idioms into their speech.
Fascinated Eridian linguists had invented some new words for the concept of seeing. This one sounded a bit like the human equivalent: a small puff like a sibilant, then a prolonged single tone.
Adrian followed Rocky through the airlock into the biodome. Rocky's claws operated the mechanism with practiced ease. They stepped into the thin Earth atmosphere without hesitation. To anyone else, they would have seemed alright. Only Adrian saw the drag of fatigue that slowed them.
(They almost wished they'd had a human mind's forgetful nature. Then they could have lost track of how long it'd been since Rocky's last proper, long sleep, and told themselves that it was not that long ago.)
Adrian could hear very well through the suit, though a few of the highest frequencies were lost. It was truly a marvel of engineering. And to think that Rocky had created the prototype themselves, even before their colleagues had begun to work on the biodome...
Earth air was much less dense than Eridian air. For the first few units in the biodome, Adrian's spatial awareness was always a little compromised. It was late afternoon in Earth-time, which meant that the light was growing dimmer and 'more orange,' whatever that meant.
The big expanse of water rushed and roiled, tossing itself onto the shore in simulated waves. Adrian had adjusted the temperature themselves. Apparently the incessant sound was soothing to human ears and helped Ryland Grace relax.
What might it be like to exist in the biodome without the suit? Would an Eridian sense the photons in the thinner, colder Earth atmosphere? A fascinating concept that was hotly debated among biologists and doctors. Now that their resident alien's continued health and survival were ensured, there was time and mental space to discuss such trivialities.
The gravel that made up the beach was cool even through the suit. Adrian could already hear the thump of a single human heart, like a beacon.
They quelled a little stir of nerves. "And Dr. Ryland Grace is involved?"
"Yes, yes. He will... assist." Rocky muffled an internal scraping noise, not quite a giggle. "And you can just call him Grace, you know."
Adrian huffed, their vents fluttering. They might have felt mildly annoyed with their mate's evasiveness, but it was good to see Rocky snicker to themselves. Even if Adrian got the looming feeling that it was at their expense.
"His name is already so short," they objected. "Pronouncing it fully is a sign of respect."
Rocky blew out some ammonia into their suit. "Respect!" they said. "He's a squishy, soggy bipedal with a bad memory."
"And the savior of our entire race and planet," Adrian reminded them. "Including you."
"The savior, yes?" Rocky puffed up, walking a little taller. They still didn't come close to matching Adrian's height; Adrian was over three times Rocky's height. "And what am I, river sediment?"
Adrian pointedly dragged one foot across the ground for a few paces. "Don't scrape your claw at me," Rocky said, but their lowest harmonies quivered with amusement. "I'll have you know that my contributions were essential."
"Yes, you are very impressive," Adrian said, their mild chiding forgotten. They clicked a low, familiar rhythm-- not the exact tones of their family song, but as close to it as was suitable for being in public.
Rocky clicked back. "One day you will tease me properly again," they said, fond but with a slight edge. "I wonder when that will be."
"Maybe when the doctors tell me you are resting properly," Adrian said.
Rocky's gait stiffened. Adrian could have kicked themselves. It wasn't anything they hadn't said to Rocky before, but there was a time and place for this. And the biodome was not it.
"You have to stop worrying so much, dear mate," Rocky said. A tense smoothness accompanied the mid-tones of their voice. "I am fine."
You are not, Adrian thought, but didn't say. The apology that had been ready and waiting now turned unwieldy inside, refusing to come out.
It wasn't fair of them to be frustrated, they knew. But Rocky was just so obstinate about it. They weren't talking. They weren't sleeping. When pressed, they just said that they were safe, and Erid was safe, so what was there to talk about?
Adrian cycled some weary air through their vents. Then they jogged a few steps to catch up with Rocky, gravel crunching under their claws.
'Rocky.' Such a simple name, selected by a being who'd been truly baffled by the existence of Eridians. It was far more simplistic than Eridian names, which had layers of meaning tucked into their harmonies.
The 'he' thing was odd, too. Eridian linguists had created a new pronoun for their resident human, and it took some time to adjust to calling him 'he' instead of 'it'. But that Ryland Grace had bestowed the same pronoun upon Rocky was... bizarre.
Eridians had no concept of gender, of what was masculine and what might come across as feminine. They just were. All could reproduce at will. There was no need to create an entire binary.
Psychologists debated possible reasons why Ryland Grace had seen Rocky and gone for 'he'. An urge to find something relatable to himself in the deep void of space, perhaps. Or the preconceived notion, created by humanity's history, that the sole survivor of a massive spaceship had to be 'male'.
Rocky never questioned it. They carried the pronoun proudly, and often used it even in Eridian. They weren't strict about it, though; they didn't protest when others used the standard neutral pronoun for them.
"Would it have bothered you," Adrian had asked once, a little discomfitted, "if Dr. Ryland Grace had picked 'she' for you? Or 'they', like he did for me?"
"No," Rocky had said, pausing as they surfaced from the latest paper they'd been muttering about. "Why would it?"
"So you do not think of yourself as 'male'."
A few confused clicks: "No."
Adrian clicked back, curious. "So why do you use 'he' sometimes in Eridian, too?"
Rocky stilled. Their gas bladders made no sound whatsoever for a few long units, then they said, the chords carefully neutral, "Does it bother you?"
Adrian winced. They had not meant to make Rocky feel awkward. "No, of course not." Their tones squeaked, hastily squeezed out. "I just... don't understand."
I don't understand why you won't speak to me, they hadn't said. Why you won't take our doctor's advice. What keeps you awake. Why haven't you talked to me?
Rocky had thought about it, some of their claws twitching idly. "It's like... a piece of jewelry?"
The question-tone was dry, not without humor: Rocky was trying to explain something they hadn't put into words before. "I can wear it, or not wear it, as I please. Sometimes I like it, other times I don't."
"Would you tell me?" Adrian asked. One bladder felt cramped, and the others blurted out the sounds to compensate. "If you wanted to be 'he' all the time?"
Rocky had drawn back a little, startled by the vehemence. "Of course." They tapped the floor of the domicile, listening. "What's wrong, my dear?"
The fight went out of Adrian as quickly as it'd come. It left a stale bitterness. So this, you'll talk about easily, but not all the other, important things?
"Nothing," Adrian had said dully. "I am fine..."
Adrian didn't blame Ryland Grace for the name. He had simply likened Rocky to the closest equivalent from his home planet. They had heard pictures of Earth boulders and rocks on the thinking machine. And Rocky was solid and dependable.
If Adrian had been pressed to choose a name for the human, they would have called him 'Damp.' Because Ryland Grace was always damp.
Leaking from the nose or eyes, due to irritants or a multitude of feelings. Evacuating waste from his inner bulbs and tubes several times a day. Sweat coming out of his skin, or microscopic drops of saliva misting the air as he spoke. It was messy and chaotic and off-putting.
It seemed a terrifying life. Where was his shell to keep all the squishy internals safe? For those first few days, just listening to Ryland Grace and his supple, perpetually moist existence made Adrian itch. Why had Rocky not furnished armor for him, at least?
Instead, his species had an endoskeleton, of all things. It was utterly useless. The hardest parts of the human body, and they were tucked inside where they provided no external protection?
Would it not have been easier for his species to slump into a low-crouching blob? Get all those fragile organs closer to the ground, at least, so they would not get compromised by falling over? (And Ryland Grace fell over a lot.)
Adrian had seen Eridian land slugs with sturdier structural integrity. Well, there was no arguing with evolution.
Ryland Grace was standing-- teetering, Adrian thought, even though both of his feet seemed firmly attached to the ground-- on the smooth platform by his classroom. Furniture and odd devices were scattered around him.
(Teaching materials, Adrian assumed. His classes were wildly popular among the youngsters. Many of their parents had met him, too. Everyone was quite charmed by their human, and he was a skilled teacher, as far as Adrian was aware.)
An Eridian would have heard them approach many units ago, but human hearing was weaker. It took Ryland Grace a much longer moment to turn and 'look' at them.
At the sight of Rocky, the malleable skin of his face stretched into a smile and bunched around the corners of his eyes. Then his back straightened when he heard... no, saw Adrian.
"Hello," Ryland Grace said. He made a scratchy gulping noise to clear mucus out of his larynx. "I mean... good afternoon."
His heart pumped faster. He turned both of his hands palm-outwards and dipped a little bow: a traditional respectful Eridian greeting. "Adrian. It's... good to see you."
Rocky blew out a long, rude noise, drowning out Adrian's polite, "Good to hear Dr. Ryland Grace, too."
"Yes, yes, good to see and hear. Boring." Rocky dug not one, but two of their claws into the sandy ground, making the tiny pebbles shudder. "Not happy to see Rocky, question?"
Ryland Grace winced a little at the two taps of Rocky's leg. "Yes, of course," he said quickly. The surface temperature of his face was rising. "Rocky, what's going on?"
Eridians still simplified their speech when they talked to him, but not by much. Ryland Grace was getting better and better; perhaps within an Earth year, they would speak to him as one of their own. For a person of science and numbers, he was showing a surprising aptitude for their language.
"I need help," Rocky said. "Both of you help Rocky."
Adrian perked up. Their hearts began to beat faster too. They dug their feet into the ground, going stiff. Was this it? Was Rocky finally going to talk to them?
If Rocky needed Ryland Grace here for it, they would not complain. The two spacefarers had spent too long in solitude and weathered too many trials. Perhaps there were truths that could only be voiced in the company of one who'd witnessed them as well.
So Adrian did not move, locking down their body language into unassuming stillness, and said, "Yes, anything," at the same time that Ryland Grace said, "Of course, bud."
Rocky tilted his torso between them. It was a habit they'd adopted in space. Adrian suspected it was for Rylan Grace's benefit, to give him an indication of where their attention was focused.
"Grace and Adrian do big science together," Rocky said. They flicked their claws a little, seeming to think carefully about each word. "Is important to Rocky. To health."
Adrian carefully kept their leg joints still, stopping the natural expression of an Eridian frown. Would Rocky not rather speak to a doctor? (Their family doctor was fully exasperated by now. They'd given them supplements to deepen the sleep periods, make them longer, but Rocky refused to take them. Said that they slept enough. That they were fine. Oh, how Adrian hated that word.)
"O-kay," Ryland Grace said, lengthening the last sound. The skin that covered his forehead was all bunched up. He moved his head, glancing around at the classroom. "What do I need? Should I get my thinking mach-- uh, laptop?"
"No, no. Need only brain." Rocky paused, then added, like they couldn't help themselves, "Finicky worried Adrian brain, and also inefficient and forgetful Grace brain."
"...Right," Ryland Grace said. He aimed his eyes at Adrian. A silent question, perhaps; one that Adrian had no answer to.
"If Rocky need help, we help," Adrian said.
Rocky moved their carapace up and down in a human nod. "Good, good," they said. Sand shifted under their claws as they turned back to the beach. "Follow."
It was hard to decode human body language. At least Eridians had solid, hard surfaces for probing soundwaves to bounce off of. The soft, spongy human body absorbed some, and gave back an impression that had felt blurry to Adrian, until they'd figured out which registers to use to make it sharpen.
Ryland Grace was difficult to read, but Adrian thought he seemed... tired. The skin under his eyes was a little puffy. The internal pressure of his veins was lower than Adrian had heard it before.
They had studied human anatomy and health, just like every other Eridian who was involved with the biodome project. The malnutrition and weight issues were under control. All seemed well. One of the doctors, a young, fretful Eridian whose voice always vibrated with worry even when they were just commenting on the weather, kept haranguing him about his 'caffeine' intake. But as far as Adrian knew, Ryland Grace was in generally good health.
He moved slower today, too. He slipped on gravel a few times, but was slow to right himself. His eyes seemed worriedly fixed on Rocky. Several times Adrian heard his diaphragm move as he stopped himself from speaking.
Rocky led them down the beach to the back of the cliffs. Gusts of air swept over them, carrying tiny wet drops that stuck to Adrian's suit.
Echolocation seemed an insufficient way to experience the rush and roil of water. Ryland Grace spent a lot of time just looking at the waves, so there had to be something Adrian was missing.
They might have asked him to describe the impression his human eyes perceived... but perhaps that would be rude. It might remind him that he was the only sentient being on this planet who could see. It might make him feel lonely.
Carved into the rock was a room from which the biodome's team controlled the simulated wind. It was there that Rocky stopped. The wind had been to Ryland Grace's satisfaction for a while, so the room was empty.
It seemed to take Rocky a while to unlock the door. Then they patted the wall inside. Since the room was part of the biodome's atmosphere, 'lamps' had been installed inside. Adrian heard a faint buzz and click as the lights turned on.
"Big science in here," Rocky said. They hunkered down next to the door, busily waving two arms. "Come, come."
"Rocky..." Adrian said, dragging out the many syllables of their name. "What are you--?"
"Please?" Rocky interrupted. "For me?"
Adrian clicked a claw against the uneven ground. Rocky was poised a little stiffly, affecting nonchalance as best they could. But their voice didn't fool Adrian.
To human ears-- or even to auricles that did not know them well-- they just sounded insistent. There was a tiny tremor, though, like one of their gas bladders had cramped up and the others were struggling to compensate.
And Adrian had always been helpless against that timbre. "Alright," they said. Ammonia rushed out of their vents.
They stepped into the room, then politely squeezed themselves close to the wall to let Ryland Grace pass. Adrian's bulk dwarfed the human, although the very top of their carapace stood only a few human 'inches' taller.
He came inside faster, perhaps not entirely guileless, but not as suspicious as Adrian. "But this is just the wind room," he said. He directed his eyes at the Eridian control panels and consoles. "What do you need in here, Rocky?"
Adrian took a step after him. The room wasn't large; digging deeper would have run the risk of upsetting the structural integrity of the cliff. Would Ryland Grace be comfortable sharing a small space with Adrian?
They half-turned back to the door. Their joints bent a little as their frown finally broke through. "Mate-mine..."
Rocky pushed them. They planted two claws right against the sturdy back of Adrian's shell and shoved. Adrian stumbled, claws scraping against the ground.
Rocky darted out of the way. The door shut with a decisive whirr-click.
The endless glug-thud-squelch of Ryland Grace's body seemed very loud in the small room. He made a noise that sounded like, "Huh?"
The door was inlaid with the type of xenonite that was transparent to human vision. So he could see Rocky just as well as Adrian sensed them: the triumphant full extension of their front legs, the satisfied quiver of their vent covers.
"Grace and Adrian talk now," they commanded. They pointed one arm at them. "Talk until both normal."
"What?" Adrian said, baffled, because... what?
Rocky clattered several claws against the ground, a discord of pique. "You are both annoying! Always polite, polite, polite. Bland. Empty."
Adrian's body sank lower. That was what this was about? Disappointment plummeted somewhere between their hearts.
Yes, Adrian and Ryland Grace had not really... connected much. Adrian knew a number of things about how his anatomy worked. But they hadn't achieved the same insight into Ryland Grace's mind. They had spoken to him a few times, but...
Not in the way that Ryland Grace and Rocky talked. (Though that was often laced with good-natured insults, which Adrian did not think they could master. They didn't know Ryland Grace well, or what might cause true offense.)
Adrian had been unfailingly polite according to Eridian customs, and they assumed that Ryland Grace had done the same in his human way. He had certainly been pleasant enough. Careful, too. Nervous. Or maybe that was just Adrian over-interpreting what little they knew of human body language.
"Grace and Adrian no talk like normal people." Rocky turned in an aggravated circle. The lower registers of their words trembled with displeasure. "You are like... like The Wedding of Clay 2: Four and One Hearts."
"Rocky!" Adrian sputtered, scandalized. They winced away from the door, unable to suppress an embarrassed growl.
"...What?" Ryland Grace said. His eyes were moving back and forth, blink-blink-blinking stickily.
"Is formal talk," Rocky explained for his benefit. "Bland. Boring. No substance. No offend." They let out another rude noise.
"I think that's just you, Rock," Ryland Grace said. His lips were tilted up, but there were folds of skin bunched between his eyebrows, and Adrian sensed a little sweat starting to emerge under his hairline. "Just because you like to insult people all the time--"
Rocky stomped again. Ryland Grace shut his mouth.
"Adrian and Grace both important to Rocky." Their carapace tilted, as though he were taking turns glaring at both of them. "Need to get along, statement."
"We do get along," Ryland Grace protested, but quietly. He seemed to be looking at the floor near his feet.
Adrian let the inner folds of their vents vibrate, a little impatient. "He is right. We are perfectly civil."
"No," Rocky said. "You do this." And Rocky rose onto the tips of their feet, pitter-pattering in place, then flinched theatrically from an imagined obstacle.
Ryland Grace's face, throat, and ears were all warmer than normal now. He rubbed a hand over the thin layer of perspiration at the back of his neck. (What might it feel like, Adrian wondered, to secrete moisture like this? They imagined it was uncomfortable.)
"Rocky, let us out," they said. The straight-forward chords sounded calm, reasonable. "At least let Dr. Ryland Grace out. This is not safe for him. We can talk outside."
"Oh, I'm alright," Ryland Grace said. He was almost drowned out by Rocky's hoot, a sound of pure exasperation: "Just call him Grace!"
"What if he needs to expel waste or..." Adrian shivered, but made themselves put together the awkward tones. "... consume nutrients?"
Although Rocky had told Adrian that humans saw no issue with talking about eating, Ryland Grace stammered a few uncoordinated noises. Rocky waved a dismissive claw. "Did earlier," they said.
They chittered in satisfaction and sat back on their legs. Oh, how often Adrian had heard this brand of smugness. "I leave now," they said. "Then, when Rocky come back, you are normal."
"Mate-mine--"
Rocky scuttled off. "I can't hear you!" they called back. They were outright running, using all five legs to propel themselves out of hearing range.
Well, no: out of shouting range. Adrian deflated. They could have easily made themselves heard as the distance increased. But not if they wanted to preserve Ryland Grace's hearing membranes.
The water was a constant bubble-splash-rush outside. Filtered through the xenonite, it sounded softer than up close. Perhaps Adrian could hear what humans found comforting about the noise. Rocky's footsteps were getting quieter.
"Wow," Ryland Grace said.
He rubbed his hands over his face, knocking his glasses askew. Some of his skin oils stuck to the smooth lenses, but he did not move to clean them.
"I knew he was planning something." He made a small expulsion of air. Though the corners of his mouth were not pointing downwards, Adrian wasn't sure if it counted as a laugh. "But... I had no idea he'd do this."
"No worry, Dr. Ryland Grace," Adrian said. "Apology for mate. Apology. No worry. I help."
Ryland Grace's eyes blinked three times in quick succession. "No, it's okay," he said. His heart rate kicked up again. "You don't need to apologize..."
Adrian pulsed a soundwave into the room, too low for human ears to pick up. A small wrench was sitting on a console, left over from one of the wind technicians. Adrian carefully edged around Ryland Grace to get it, pressing themselves to the wall.
"No worry," they said again. They lowered their carapace, tilting forward in the type of bow that showed contrition and resolve to make right what had been upset. "Adrian will fix."
Adrian did not fix.
The wrench was fine and good, perfectly functional. Adrian's claws were nimble as ever-- though hindered by the suit, and a little stiff with embarrassment at their mate's behavior.
But Rocky was one of Erid's best engineers. One of only a few who had been chosen for the mission to save their planet. They could tinker their way out of Erid's darkest, most corroded pit with nothing but a single twist of wire.
Whatever they had done to the door was elegant. Sophisticated. They hadn't just broken the lock. They'd made it believe it was open, and react only with a confused twitch of machinery when Adrian tried to manipulate it.
Ryland Grace paced in a tight circle, aiming his eyes at the Eridian equipment that sat in the room. He ventured close to a control panel, leaning over to read the raised inscriptions, but wisely did not touch anything.
"What was that Rocky said?" he asked, when 126 Eridian units and roughly five Earth minutes had passed. "Wedding and hearts...?"
"The Wedding of Clay 2," Adrian said. The wrench slipped out of the mechanism and they suppressed an uncouth overtone. "An old-fashioned play..."
Sudden anxiety made their innards prickle. Did the human even know what that was? It was rude to answer an earnest question with more incomprehensible language.
"There are... special trained Eridians," Adrian said quickly. "They pretend that they are people from a story. Other Eridians watch for entertainment."
They wilted, their torso sinking lower. That was probably too fast, too complicated. Rocky was better at hitting the precise complexity of speech that Ryland Grace could understand. "Much art and emotion," they said lamely.
But he was moving his head up and down. His eyes pointed forward at Adrian. Confused? Questioning? No, his forehead was smooth. Attentive, probably.
"Oh, yes. We have that too, on Earth. It's called /ˈθiətɚ/."
Adrian listened in fascination to the scrape of air between his tongue and teeth. They'd heard that noise before, but never when he took care to say it slowly.
"Eridian words are 'theater'. And 'play'. Like game, but not for children. Game of pretend."
Ryland Grace nodded again. He had put the softest part of his mouth inside, and the flat sharp ends of his teeth were prodding at it. It was perhaps similar to how Eridians rubbed some claws together while deep in thought.
"And... Wedding with Mud?"
"The Wedding of Clay 2, yes," Adrian said. They shook out their claws, then slid the wrench back into the lock. "Old and boring. Stiff, formal. Makes want to sleep."
"Oh." Ryland Grace tilted his head. "Not a flattering comparison, then."
"No. Much offense." Adrian held back a sigh. "Rocky is rude."
Ryland Grace laughed softly. "He is." But he was smiling. The pressure of his blood as it moved through his body was nominal now, not too low like before.
Adrian managed to get the wrench into the deeper, smaller cogs. They took a moment to be grateful that they were wearing a suit and their species did not sweat: their claws might have slipped from the moisture. They twisted, slow and careful.
You are not open. Eridians were not capable of thought-transfer, least of all to an inanimate object, but not for a lack of trying right now. You are shut, and you will yield because I know exactly what I'm doing and this wrench is not at all being handled inexpertly...
The lock, fed up with their efforts, clicked. The wrench was pulled forward, then suddenly came free. Something tiny tinkled as it hit the floor at their feet. When Adrian pulsed another questioning subaural sound to check, the sensitive tip had snapped off.
"Waste-gobbling spawn of refuse," they said, before they could stop themselves.
Ryland Grace made a loud, surprised sound. A laugh, though he quickly muffled it against his hand. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry. I'm not laughing at you, I just... Eridian cursing is not so different from Earth."
He pointed his chin at the wrench. "I guess that didn't work?"
"Apology," Adrian said, harried. They would have liked to bash the narrower top of their shell against the door a few times. Not only had they failed to free him, now they had cursed in front of him. "No worry. Adrian call other engineers. Dr. Ryland Grace will be safe."
They put their claws against the wall, tapping once. The stone responded, sitting in comfortable, ancient layers, the cliff's entire history stacked neatly. The material wasn't very conductive, but perhaps if they were loud enough it would reach the biodome's control center...
But-- no. They couldn't. Ryland Grace was too close. Even if Adrian told him to cover his ears, the fragile workings inside would not like the full volume of an Eridian voice.
"It's okay," Ryland Grace said. His eyes were directed at Adrian, but made tiny movements like he was examining different parts of their shell. "Maybe... maybe Rocky has a point."
He took a deep breath. "I don't know about you, but I have definitely felt a bit..." He tiptoed in place, holding up his hands like he was afraid of bumping into something, then imitated Rocky's exaggerated flinch.
Adrian thought distantly that if they'd had eyes, they would have blinked them open and shut a few times now. Or perhaps just kept them open and wide, the way humans seemed to do when surprised.
The incessantly moving, gurgling tissues and fluids of Ryland Grace's body were not just bewildering and alien. To Adrian's senses, they felt innards-turningly wrong. The first few times they'd met him, they'd had to remind themselves over and over that this creature was... malnourished and too thin, yes, but alright. Calm. Talking.
Some evolutionary remnant in Adrian's brain insisted that a being so soft had to be in tremendous pain. That his shell had cracked and fallen away, exposing his vulnerable insides. At first they'd flinched at every unexpected human noise, half-convinced that this wet, helpless creature was twitching out a few last moments of agony.
The tilting sensation in Adrian's mind had subsided over time. Now, they found an odd music in Ryland Grace's existence. His joints clicked and rubbed. Air moved in and out of him, the lobes of his lungs not unlike some Eridian musical instruments.
The glugs of his digestion were proof that he was finally getting enough sustenance. The chambers of his heart pumped on, an incessant clamor of, I'm alive, I'm alive that any Eridian could hear from far away.
He was so light, so breakable. Space blob, Rocky called him. And now he was... offering some honesty to Adrian. Exposing his underbelly in more ways than one.
Adrian felt suddenly ashamed. This being had saved their mate and helped save their planet, at a cost to himself so great that their gas bladders clenched to think of it.
He could never go home. He would never see another human being ever again. He was stuck here, amidst a people that cherished him and wished him well, but was still not his. And Adrian was making him feel awkward in his new home.
"If Adrian has made wrong, I am sorry." Adrian bowed again, lower this time. "Apology."
Ryland Grace's eyes widened. He lifted both hands, though Adrian wasn't sure what kind of gesture this was. "No, no, that's not what I meant. It's just..."
One palm landed on the back of his neck again, then fidgeted with the collar of his garment. (It was the nice, interesting one. Adrian liked to hear the thick individual stitches that made up its structure.)
Ryland Grace chuckled. "Well, I get a little nervous around you, to be honest."
"Oh," Adrian said. It was a small non-word Eridians used to show surprise or sudden understanding. Rocky, I hope one of your vents clogs the next time you leave our domicile, they thought. Then, grudgingly: no, I don't.
They had tried to squeeze themselves away from the human's personal space. But the room was so small. There was no way not to intimidate him with their size. "Adrian taller than Rocky," they said. "Heavier."
They bent their legs a little, earnest. Although it wouldn't be audible to human ears, they hummed in the lower end of their vocal register, a sound of absolute sincerity. "But would not hurt Dr. Ryland Grace. Never, statement."
More widening of the eyes, and blinking. Ryland Grace waved both arms around and sputtered a few times. It was rather alarming to hear.
"No! No, of course not. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." His glasses were slipping down his nose, and he shoved them back into place.
Glug-glug, went his heart, beating out of time. His mouth was open, his tongue twitching inside. He peered up at Adrian. Was this... helplessness? Contrition? "Sorry. I'm fu-- I'm messing this up."
Adrian wanted to pace, but couldn't. So they wiggled from side to side, an approximation of a human head-shake. "No, Adrian mess up."
Ryland Grace's forehead wrinkled again. "I'm pretty sure it's me."
"No. Is Adrian. Apology."
The lower half of the mobile human face was tight. Stubborn? "Well, apology right back at you."
Adrian blew out a dissatisfied honk. Quieter than Rocky's straightforward displeasure, but still not very polite. Ryland Grace paused, then his mouth made an odd shape. Downturned, but not. A frown that wasn't.
The thin skin around his eyes created tiny hills and valleys, though. So... a smile? Maybe.