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It started, as it always had, with the kids. Grace had already learned that middle schoolers were pretty much the same across species, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that his Eridian students gossiped amongst themselves. He caught snippets of it in the minutes before and after class; excited chitters of laughter, whispered tones just barely within hearing range, shared secrets in a musical harmony. At first, Grace listened out of curiosity, but it became clear early on that these were exactly the kind of rumors you’d expect. Who was a troublemaker, who was a loser, whose carapace was too small for their age. Mostly, who liked who. Grace tuned it out after a couple months.
That is, until he started to hear Rocky’s name churning in the rumor mill.
“You believe it, question?”
“My parents say savior Rocky is…” Their voices dropped too low for Grace to hear the rest.
“Your parents dumb, dumb, dumb. Humans age differently.”
Ah. A rumor about the two of them. Grace supposed that wasn’t surprising. There was a lot of material to work with. The first alien contacts become best friends, risk their lives for each other, save two planets. He could see how the kids would construe that as romantic. Still, definitely something to nip in the bud. Grace set himself up at his Eridian piano to speak.
“Hey, I know my human ears aren’t the most powerful sensory organs,” he tugged his earlobe for emphasis, “but I can still hear you. Gossiping is considered rude where I’m from.”
The young Eridians flinched and skittered back to their seats. “Sorry teacher Grace. We talking about opera.”
“Opera? What opera?”
Eridians had no eyes, but he could still see the confusion in their non-faces. It was something about the way they tilted their little carapces to whatever side they favored.
“You not know about opera, question?”
“No, this is the first I’m hearing about it. Must be new.”
“Yes, new new new! Just announced. You probably get invited to opening night.”
That was also not entirely surprising. Again, the whole saviors of the planet thing. It meant statues, a chapter in the history books, and a whole habitat in his case. Why not an opera? For a species whose primary sense was hearing, it made total sense.
Wait, hold on. One of the kids mentioned parents. Did that mean the parents were also gossiping about him and Rocky? That part didn’t make sense. Not at all.
Grace was hesitant as he tapped the piano keys. “Is this opera supposed to be a love story?”
He was met with a chorus of jazz hands. Ironically, it didn’t make him feel very jazzed.
“Is it true? Is it true? Rocky is teacher Grace mate, question?”
“No, of course not! Rocky is my best friend, but it’s nothing like that. Statement.”
Most of the students deflated. One little Eridian forked over a small gem to their friend in the row behind.
“I saw that.”
“So is that just the popular consensus?” Grace asked as he paced back and forth around his cliffside house. “Why didn’t you tell me, Rock?”
There was a lot to process. Most Eridians seemed to think Grace was Rocky’s second mate. It wasn’t unheard of to have more than one partner, but it was rare. Eridians mate for life. Mated pairs literally embedded parts of each other in their carapaces. Proving you have that kind of commitment to multiple partners required extenuating circumstances.
Like exposing yourself to an alien atmosphere that cooks you from the inside. Or throwing away your chance to return home and potentially subjecting yourself to starvation.
“Not think it was relevant. Just stupid rumors, statement,” explained Rocky in a low, slightly embarrassed tone.
“We're way beyond rumors at this point.” Grace laced his fingers around the back of his head and groaned at the ceiling. This was worse than being an academic laughingstock. It was like finding out he’d gotten his own front page on the celebrity tabloids. “Can we talk to whoever wrote this opera? Make a public announcement that this is a bunch of hooey?”
“Can try, but might not do any good. Opera already written, people excited to see, statement. Hard to stop talk.”
“I don’t care if people talk, I just don’t want your artists spreading lies about us.”
Grace wasn’t a history teacher, but you had to know at least some history to be a scientist. And the thing about history is that it often gets ignored for a popular narrative. Einstein knew good and well how to tie his shoes, Newton wasn't inspired by an apple falling on his head, and Disco Demolition night didn’t actually kill disco.
“You not care most Eridians thinks we’re mates, question?”
Grace stumbled over nothing. “I-I, uh… it’s not— I care when rumors surpass reality.”
“Understand. Will arrange public meeting.”
“Thanks.” Grace sat down and rubbed his face. “How's Adrian? I can’t imagine how they feel about all this.”
It wasn’t his fault, but Grace couldn’t help but feel a guilty twist in his gut. Not only had Adrian grieved for half a century over losing Rocky, but now that they had their mate back, they were being shunted to third wheel status by the rumor mill.
Rocky made meaningless little circles with one of his legs. “Adrian... think of you as family. Not care either way, statement.”
Grace blinked several times. “Wait, does Adrian think we’re mates? Or could be?”
Rocky shrank. If he could, Grace was sure he’d be blushing. “They wondered. We had conversation while you recovered from malnutrition.”
“And you didn’t tell me?!”
“I make clear our relationship to Adrian. Issue settled.” Rocky stamped one of his feet with extra gusto. “Why bring up to Grace, question?”
“I just think it’s kind of messed up that I’m the last person to know. I should’ve found out from you, not my students.”
Rocky titled down. “Apology. Grace right, statement. Rocky bad friend.”
“You’re not a bad friend. You’re the reason I’m even alive.”
His semblance of normalcy was still new, and only made possible by Rocky and the other Eridians. During the trip here, Rocky was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into his own starved mind.
“No excuse for not communicate.”
Grace sighed, got out of his seat, and knelt down. “Come here, bud.”
Rocky scuttled over, looking much like a kid fresh from the principal’s office, and wrapped two appendages around Grace’s shoulders. Every day he was grateful for the improved zenonite suit. It beat hugging an awkward geometric beach ball.
Rocky let out a low, pleased chirp. Grace nuzzled his cheek against the suit, content. The zenonite made Rocky's heat tolerable, but didn’t block it out entirely. What was left was the pleasant warmth of another being. It was as close to physical contact as he’d ever have again.
Wait. Grace stiffened and pulled away.
“Grace alright, question?”
“Yeah, yeah, I just thinking. Do we act like mates?”
It wasn’t often that Rocky stuttered, but that question made him slip over his own voice, like hitting the wrong key on a piano. “Do we— w-what mean, question?”
“I don’t know, if even Adrian wondered about it, it makes me question what about us comes across as a mated pair. Is it just our history, or?”
Rocky considered this. “History, yes. Also importance and trust. Rocky spend time equally with Grace and Adrian.” His next notes were quieter. “…Understand why other Eridians assume mate status.”
Grace was very glad Rocky didn’t have eyes to see his cheeks turning red. He didn’t quite understand it himself. “Yeah, when you put it like that, I’m starting to get where the rumors are coming from.”
Ryland Grace was an overthinker. It was what made him a brilliant scientist, and terrible at personal relationships. There was a reason he’d only had one girlfriend. She rightfully pointed out that his mind was always somewhere else. Oftentimes Grace barely felt like he belonged on his own planet. Maybe that’s why he ended up best friends with an alien, and why he was treating this situation the same way he treated an equation.
As soon as Rocky had gone home to Adrian, Grace set to work scribbling furiously on his whiteboard. It was a bit like the amnesia days. Good times.
Criteria for mate:
1. History
2. Importance
3. Trust
Those were the criteria he and Adrian shared. What separated them, besides, y’know, the species thing? Reproduction? That was the evolutionary purpose of being a mated pair. No, everyone knew Rocky and Grace weren’t going to have babies together. Being someone’s mate was the social equivalent to marriage, and marriage didn’t require reproduction.
Grace didn’t have a mate stone like Adrian, but that was mostly a matter of biology. He was, as Rocky called him, a space blob. Soft, squishy skin.
His fingers danced over the scar where Rocky had grabbed him. It was the only the only time they’d truly touched. The shape of Rocky's hand was etched in flesh much the same as a mate stone was carved.
This brainstorm was supposed to be about discerning the difference between being Rocky's mate and his best friend. Maybe that was the problem. He couldn’t seem to find one. At least, not from an Eridian perspective. If they were on Earth, the speculation would’ve been more salacious. ‘Is Ryland Grace having sex with his alien companion?’ was an easier question to answer.
Grace sighed and sat hunched in a chair. All the cultural and social context weren’t variables he could fill in solve the equation. He’d been orbiting around the real answer the whole time: his own feelings. Whatever people made of their relationship from the outside, what mattered was how he felt about Rocky.
How did he feel about Rocky? The fact that he even had to ask meant something, but beyond that it was a nebulous mess of feeling. Grace had done pathetic amounts of math to calculate how many days he’d be able to see the light from Rocky's ship as it dissapeared. He’d given up his ticket home for Rocky and his people (but mostly Rocky). When he was on the brink of death from malnutrition, Rocky held the last thread of sanity that kept Grace from unraveling. Rocky helped build a world for him to live in. They called it friendship the same way most people call coelacanths fish, and Grace found himself, like most scientists, frustrated when he tried to actually taxonomize it.
His head was starting to hurt. That probably meant he should sleep on it. He took some painkillers and got ready for bed. As if to remind him that this was far from over, Grace was greeted by the stupid Rocky plush he had sewn for himself, staring with its stupid non-face like it was waiting for an answer.
Sorry to dissapoint, buddy.
Grace got under his blanket and curled himself around the plushie. It was wonky, but weighted and life-size. Rocky let him take precise measurements like he was at the tailor, and Grace joked about fitting him for a groom’s suit. It was this somewhat silly mental image that melted with him into unconsciousness.
Ryland dreamed of a wedding. It was on a beach. Yáo, Ilyukhina, and Carl were there on his side where the bridesmaids would be. His crewmates looked dead, and still wore the body bags he’d commended them to the stars in, but they smiled all the same.
Stratt was holding his arm, walking him down the aisle while injecting him with a sedative. Grace noticed he was wearing the toga he’d fashioned upon first waking up. He couldn’t see the wedding guests, but heard children whispering around him. Giggling.
Why was there nobody at the end of the aisle? No officiant, no groom, nothing. He looked around, confused and searching for an answer. All he got was the memory of Carl’s last words to him.
“You’re gonna do great.”
Suddenly Grace was being shoved forward. He stumbled over himself and fell face-first into a tunnel. When he looked back, the wedding party was gone, replaced by the airlock to rhe Hail Mary.
A familiar musical chitter redirected his attention forward.
Startled awake by a knock, Grace jolted to a sitting position. He was still holding his plush Rocky to his chest, pressed to his heart. Still half asleep, Grace’s imagination supplied the plush with a loving expression.
The knocking continued. Grace shoved the plush away and scrambled out of bed, barely managing to grab his glasses before running to open the door. The real Rocky was waiting there.
“Good, Grace awake! Have news, statement.”
Grace rubbed away the crust from the corners of his eyes. What time was it? “What’s going on, Rock? Are we meeting with the press right now?”
“Spoke to opera director. Invite us to special showing tomorrow night before public release, see if we approve.”
Okay. Now he was awake. “Wow, that’s really generous.”
“Not generous. Confident, statement,” corrected Rocky. “Said if we not like show, will rewrite and make public apology for spreading misinformation.”
“Oh. It’s a bet.” The phrase ‘balls of steel’ came to mind. Or perhaps zenonite in this case. Either way, the audacity was impressive. He had to respect it.
“What Grace think, question?”
“I think we have a deal. I also think I’m going to be severely underdressed.”
“Agree agree agree. Grace clothes boring.”
“Hey,” he chastised. “Not my fault I didn’t pack for a night at the opera.”
Obviously Stratt wasn’t going to pack anything fancy, but Grace still wished she’d brought at least one suit. Something decent to die in, had the original mission gone according to plan. The best he could throw together was probably his fox sweater, an old stained button-up, and khakis.
Maybe he should wear his “Cats” tee? No, but that did remind him he needed to show it to Rocky at some point. The recorded stage production, not the 2019 version.
“Grace wear Eridian celebration clothes, statement.”
“I don’t have any, bud.”
“Rocky have made, statement.”
“By tomorrow night?”
“Yes. Grace alien, save Erid, many artists excite. Arrange for tailors later today.”
Rocky wasn’t going to let him look like a shlub for an opera. That seemed to be a cross-cultural standard. Grace didn’t like having to squeeze an entire consultation into his busy teaching day, but it was better than being in his own head.
“Sure, I guess. Why not.”
“Grace look amaze, amaze, amaze!” cheered Rocky, wearing the same celebration clothes from when they’d successfully bred nitrogen resistant taumeba.
Grace had to agree. It was more revealing than he’d usually be comfortable with, he couldn’t deny the craftsmanship. Tiny zenonite chains draped from his torso, arms, and waist, each dotted with chiming metal sheets and crystal pendulums. The chains around his upper body were linked via soft fabric cuffs that slipped over his wrists, elbows, and shoulders, which were themselves lined with rough emeralds. A mesh cape also attached to these cuffs. He didn’t wear pants so much as an elegant black loincloth that reached his ankles. This didn’t even cover all the earrings, bracelets, anklets, and other jewelry.
“Thanks, Rock. Shame I’ll be in a zenonite suit.”
“Can still hear Grace shape, statement. Let’s go, go, go. Opera soon.”
Grace looked outside. “Is Adrian coming? Are they waiting outside the biodome for us?”
Rocky scuttled back a little. “Adrian say this event for us. Not want to influence opinion. Said it was important for us to be alone, statement.”
“That’s considerate,” said Grace, though he had a sinking feeling in his gut. “You’re one lucky rock.”
Rocky traced over his mate stone. “Rocky very lucky, statement.”
And so, Rocky and Grace set out to the Eridian opera house. Grace couldn’t make out any of the details as they approached, but the interior was set up with lights for his convience. There was a grand foyer with high stone walls and abstract sculptures.
“I’m kind of nervous. Are you nervous?”
“Rocky not nervous. Why Grace nervous, question? This chance to clear up rumors. Is what Grace want, question?”
Before he could answer, a new musical voice spoke. “Savior Grace and savior Rocky. Welcome, welcome, welcome. Very pleased to show opera. Did much research.”
A pale blue Eridian by the main entrance to the auditorium skittered up to greet them.
“You must be the director,” said Grace, leaning down to shake their hand. The Eridian, seemingly familiar with Earth custom, returned the gesture.
“Yes. Composed, wrote, and directed. Your story very very very inspiring.”
“Thank you. I’m honored, but I’m not sure about the whole, uh, romance thing.”
“Romance up to interpretation,” said the Eridian. “Is love story.”
The Eridian beckoned them into the auditorium with excited claws. It was an amphitheater, with tiers of smooth, polished stone circling a stage in the center. Grace suspected the seats were designed that way to minimize distractions. Less sound cluttering the space. He and Rocky sat down on the tier closest to the stage.
The stage itself was donut shaped, the hole being filled by delicate strings that extended to the ceiling, similar to the ones in the Blip-A. There were also a few zenonite set dressings; large replicas of Rocky's models, and two large orbs, all of them hanging from thin chains.
The director scuttled onto the stage and spoke to two more Eridians. Grace assumed they were the actors playing him and Rocky. After a quick chat, the director ducked out of sight and the actors got into place. Alright. Show time.
The Opera began with a lone, lingering note. It seemed to be Rocky’s actor, which followed along the path of the Blip-A model as it orbited the stage. The sound was a haunting lament. There was no instrumental accompaniment. The actor sang of solitude and guilt. It was an unbroken stream of a capella singing for several minutes. As time passed, the actor incorporated more multi-layered melodies in their song. The lyrics became more disjointed and incomprehensible with each orbit around the stage. Repeated phrases, looping chords, a descent into madness.
Then, at last, another voice joined. It was completely discordant from the first, and the actor sailing on the Hail Mary model spoke in jibberish. Still, Rocky’s actor chittered merrily at the stranger. A chase ensued. The actors and their respective models circled around each other until coming to a standstill. Grace’s actor approached his counterpart in silence. It was a moment of tension, this first contact.
He sang a note. Rocky repeated it. He moved his arms. Rocky copied. It went on like this until the two reached for each other to touch. A panel of zenonite popped up from the stage between them just before their claws met. That’s when the room erupted into song, and the show truly began.
What followed was something between an opera and a complex ballet. The actors worked cooperatively to hold the zenonite panel between them as they danced through the story and plucked the bundle of strings. As verbal communication became easier, and they worked through problems together, Rocky's high vibrant leitmotif and Grace’s low clunking one gravitated toward a musical equilibrium. Something about the interpretive nature of the music and movement reminded Grace of Fantasia.
The halfway point in the play was marked by Grace making the decision to save Rocky. After that, the tone… changed. Without the excitement of first contact, or the urgency of saving the stars, all that was left was a relationship. The songs became slower. At first, the meandering chords represented boredom and monotony. Then it picked up into a contemplative refrain.
It was at this point the zenonite spheres came into play. A new song started, somewhat somber, and the spheres orbited around each other while circling the stage. Naturally, the actors copied these movements. It was something like an Eridian waltz. The actor playing him was limping and moving sluggishly. This was probably when the starvation was really hitting.
Then they began a duet. It wasn’t the first duet in the show, but Grace had never heard two voices blend so perfectly before. It was like they’d become one being.
“Time our first language
Is also our last.
Future is relative
So is our past.
A life condensed
A life outpaced
Our lonely shuttle
Is timeless place.
Light-years collapse
Two systems collide
Binary stars
Will not die.
You become center
Gravity-like love
Your life is reason
No time is enough.”
Oh. Oh. This was. What was this? Grace couldn’t come up with a word for it. His feelings were all caught in his throat, he felt like he was choking on them. He was crying, but what else was new? At some point Rocky had reached out and taken Grace’s hand in his claw, and Grace had naturally interlocked his fingers with Rocky’s.
When the opera ended, and they gave a standing ovation, the director once again approached.
“What think, question? Need change? Make public apology?”
Rocky and Grace looked at each other. Well, Grace looked at Rocky, and Rocky turned his body in a way that mimicked looking up. Semantics.
“…No,” said Rocky. “Unless Grace want.”
“No. Don’t change a thing.”
“Is what I thought, statement,” said the director.
It was a quiet ride back to the dome, and a quieter walk to the house, even with all of Grace’s jingling accessories. When they got to the door, Grace didn’t even have to ask if Rocky wanted to come inside.
“Rocky Grace mates, statement.”
“Looks that way, pal.” Was pal still appropriate? It wasn’t like they were no longer friends. They were just also something else. “Everyone knew before us.”
“…Rocky know.”
“You what?”
“Rocky know love Grace. Not think Grace feel same.”
Grace stared at Rocky for a full minute before taking a seat to more fully digest the information. “How long have you felt that way?”
“Long time. When you get close to die…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. “Have Adrian, always always always, but without Grace, family not complete. Rocky not complete, statement.”
“That’s when you guys talked about it,” Grace said.
“Correct. Adrian understand. Had been waiting long time for Rocky to tell Grace truth. See Grace as mate, statement. Opera put Rocky feelings on display. Love, love, love Grace.”
In hindsight, maybe it was obvious. Or maybe they’d become so enmeshed that he couldn’t differentiate the feelings. Yeah, that was the word. He felt enmeshed. The boundaries between platonic and romantic had dissolved, and their relationship had become something far stranger than either of those terms implied. Grace wasn’t a religious man, but if there was such a thing as souls, or fate, his was utterly entwined with Rocky’s.
“Grace feel same, question?”
Grace walked over to his bed and held up Rocky’s plush counterpart. “Rock, I measured you to make a life-size replica. So I could cuddle with it. What do you think, man?”
“Would just feel better if Grace say words, statement.”
“I love you, Rocky.” He crouched down. “You’re my everything.”
Rocky skittered over and tackled his human mate to the ground, which gave Grace the briefest flashback to “Alien.” Thankfully, this spidery alien only wanted to nuzzle him.
“…Should tell you other Eridians think Grace too young for mate.”
Grace laughed. “Ah well. Guess you’ll just be known as a cradle-robber.”
“No understand.”
“It’s a joke, Rock. I’m saying I’m not bothered by it.”
“Oh, humor. Good.” Rocky made a sound like a purr. “Movie night tomorrow, question?”
“Sure pal. Bring Adrian. We’ll make it a family night.”
“Happy, happy, happy.”
Grace wasn’t sure how things were going to play out moving forward. Maybe they’d all move in together. Maybe there were more dimensions of their relationship to be explored now that it was out in the open. Or maybe nothing would change at all, at least on a material level. He only knew one thing for certain.
A lot of Eridians were going to owe their friends money over this opera.