Chapter Text
It has been exactly six hours, 23 minutes, and 12 seconds since the human crew of the Grace landed on Eridian soil, inside a miniature version of the biodome.
We had decided to make Savior Grace’s survival a surprise. According to our readings in human sociology, surprises are a cherished ritual. We’re simply wondering whether or not we should wrap Savior Grace in gift wrap.
As for him, his surprise will be the presence of these humans.
There are four of them—one more than the original crew of the Hail Mary, our other experiment with Earthlings. This time, if I’m to believe what I hear, all of them are alive and in good health. Three of them are sitting on the Eridian sand, chatting and sharing their sense of wonder. Indeed, the light glasses—obviously a creation of Savior Rocky—allow these humans to see on Erid. For which they are extremely grateful. I don’t quite understand what they’re saying. I speak a little English, but not much. Fortunately for me — and themselves —, they all speak the simplified Eridian of the Hail Mary. One of them is even beginning to be able to use true Eridian.
His name is Colt Seaver. A name that, to tell the truth, sounds vaguely familiar to me. But I don’t know where from. Unlike the others, this one looks sad. He isn’t chatting with his fellow humans. He’s just sitting alone, leaning against an imitation tree. Compared to what he’s used to, it’s probably rather bland. Is that the reason for his sadness?
Their ship is definitely very comfortable, but these four years of travel, without any real nature, must have taken a heavy toll on him.
I’m going to go see him.
“Hello, esteemed Earthling Colt,” I say, modulating my voice into broken English. My pronunciation is poor, but Savior Grace says it’s still understandable. So we’ll take his word for it. I continue.
“I am 🎶🎵🎶🎵.” I wait for his response. To my surprise, he pulls out a piano. The other Earthlings, however, have learned simplified Eridian, which is actually possible for the human mouth to produce.
So why does this one produce the piano sound, just like Savior Grace does? Is he, then, that person able of speaking true Eridian that I’ve heard about?
"Hey, you can speak Eridian, you know? I understand.” He strums the piano, holding the last note longer to make it sound more powerful. He obliviously know what he's doing.
I’m impressed. He really is speaking true Eridian. But how? And why? We have translators—both computer based and alive — We sent a wealth of Eridian content when we were able to communicate with the Earthlings. But that means he went from simplified Eridian to full Eridian in just three Earth months!
That said, I respect his wish to communicate in Eridian.
“How did you go from ‘baby Eridian’ to a true Eridian, if I may ask?” I ask, genuinely curious.
And to think I was supposed to comfort him! Instead, I’m trying to find out more, eager for knowledge. My colleagues had done the same thing when the Savior Grace came to us, battered, starving, and sick. And he explained to us, once he’d regained his health, that this behavior wasn’t exactly pleasant.
I’m a scientist, so my curiosity knows no bounds, but still. A little politeness, please! Too late—he’s already tapping away.
“I had to do it. I want to be able to communicate perfectly,” he types, looking confident.
I nod. Or rather, my shell does. I probably spend too much time studying human anatomy—so much so that I’m starting to develop those traits myself. But this species is so interesting!
“Why are you sad, question?” I ask, forcing myself to do what I had to do: namely, be an emotional support. I’m no expert in human psychology, unlike Adrian and many others. But I think I know a thing or two. A little, at least. Those nights spent on the thinking machine I was graciously given can attest to that.
This time, the human takes a while to answer. I don’t have as precise a “vision” as this species. But I can still see the muscles in his face tensing, even twisting. This is a sign of stress, of tension, at the very least.
He finally returns to the piano, playing slowly this time. This is a clear sign of grief.
“For the same reason as you.”
But what is he talking about? We’re happy. We’ve never been happier! There’s no reason to be sad. And besides, how could he possibly know why—if we consider we're sad—we would be sad?
“Do you think we’re sad because you humans are a burden to us, is that it?” I ask. It’s a logical and rational explanation—a feeling that Savior Grace, in fact, has long harbored. Before, it used to make him drunk with guilt and therefore sad. Now, it’s just an underlying feeling.
But these days, according to my friends in the dome, he’s sad for many other reasons.
Reasons we cannot resolve. The loss of his brother, for example.
Colt lets out a deep sigh. What an unpleasant sound! I wonder how Savior Rocky, Adrian, and some of my colleagues can get used to such noises.
Humans are a fascinating species. But if only their ways of life were quieter...
“I don’t know. I’m not inside other people’s heads,” he types. “Leave me alone,” he adds.
I respect his wishes. We consider respect for human will to be an absolute rule. Our human, has had his wishes trampled upon. That must not happen again with his fellow humans.
Still, I wonder what’s causing his sadness.
~•~
I’m about to rejoin my friends with whom I’m organizing all of this: Matthew, Eden, and Kiara. These three names were given by Savior Grace. We have many things to discuss while the humans talk among themselves and get used to the 2G gravity on Erid.
They’re all wearing a kind of stiff, rough clothing that covers all their joints. They explained to me that this is medical equipment designed to reduce their physical stress. I hope they have what needed to design a fifth one.
We tried to create similar designs for Savior Grace, but without success. He is therefore forced to suffer, with only massages, hot water bottles, and ice packs to provide relief. It’s been a long time since we’ve ran out of any medication. We're also unable to synthesize them, despite our best try.
I walk into the control room, finally able to take off this uncomfortable EVA suit. Rocky’s balls are much more comfortable, but they’re also infinitely less practical and, in the words of Savior Grace, make me look like a baby hamster—a cute animal, but above all, terribly childish. And I value my dignity!
So, I just suck it up.
"Why are you so tense, Eden?" I ask, my voice soft, slow, and honestly tinged with concern.
My mate turns around. I notice that they actually look… frustrated? But why?
The mission, against all odds, went wonderfully! The humans’ incredible pilot managed to position themselves precisely at our planetary elevator. They all trusted us for the descent. And now, the mini-dome where they’re staying is allowing them to begin exploring our planet.
"You can’t meet the Earthlings just yet, and that’s frustrating you, is that it?” I ask with a slightly amused tone. They’ve always been impatient. So surely that personality trait is coming through now.
“But the Earthlings will be staying on Erid for years—Earth years! You’ll have plenty of time to talk with them!” I say cheerfully and reassuringly.
Apparently, it's not the issue.
He stomps his foot loudly, making a high-pitched, rapid clattering sound. It’s the Eridien version of “I’m stomping my foot and yelling!”
“No! No! No! No! No!!!" he reply not quite calmed down from his tantrum. “Matthew” snick then add “Look at the crew. They’re weird—look!! Look!!!” he say insistently.
So I lean over to look at the ultrasound screen. And sure enough… The composition is... curious, to say the least.
Grace’s crew:
Pilot and Captain: Liyana Ben Salah
Engineer: Min Li
Ship’s doctor and cook (from the Golden Wave!!): Carolina Padrigaz
And…
Risk specialist: Colt “Seavers”
“Where’s the scientist?” I ask, surprised. Although human crews are always very small, there’s bound to be a scientist. Especially for an interstellar mission. Not bringing one along would be a terrible waste.
That said, we (or at least, I) are very happy to have a doctor on board, who apparently also cooks.
This person will soon be put to work.
We also need to hurry up and have her taste the synthetic food we’re giving to Savior Grace. He, because of the guilt he feels, might be too lenient with us.
We’ve researched the nature of the human diet in detail. And what we’re providing to Grace is far, very far, from that.
I’m cut off mid-thought.
"There’s no scientist," “Kiara” replies. “That’s why the crew is so weird. Normally, there’s always a scientist. But they must have decided the ‘Risk Specialist’ was more important. Why?” They almost snap. And I honestly agree with them. It’s strange.
“What’s the point of a risk specialist???!?” I hasten to ask, glaring at the huge ship—much more comfortable than the Hail Mary, by the way, I must point out—as if it had personally offended me.
“That’s our question. The pilot is usually the captain. And the captain manages the risks. Even on Erid, where crews are much larger. But humans have also added a risk specialist,” Kiara continues.
“Were they afraid?” Eden asks. “Not bringing any scientists is a huge, huge sacrifice. I wonder what’s enough to justify that.”
I nod—again—with my shell. I’m picking up so many human behaviors! At this point, it's anthropophilic. My companions chirp in response. It could be mockery, but with them, I know that’s not the case.
“We just have to ask the captain,” I reply, proud of my idea. The others nod in agreement.
Do you know what total darkness looks like? If you’re on Earth and haven’t spent what would undoubtedly be an unpleasant stay in a sensory deprivation chamber, then no.
But I, the captain, know.
Erid, due to its incredibly dense atmosphere, completely blocks out the light from its suns. It’s incredible how a species could have evolved without any photosynthesis!
Thank goodness we have our light goggles. They were made by Rocky, the Eridian who met Dr. Grace—none other than her! He’s not here. That’s a shame. I’m really looking forward to meeting him.
We’ll have so much to talk about! About our respective species, of course. But also about, well, Dr. Grace. And what he was like before the end.
Honestly, based on the countless calculations I’ve done, it’s practically impossible that he survived. Actually, we don’t know when—may their souls rest in peace—Pilot Yao and Engineer Ilyukhina passed away while in comas. So I’ve taken the middle ground. They died partway through the journey, and therefore stopped consuming the coma slurry at that point.
The mission itself was supposed to last six months. That means 18 months’ worth of food for one guy. That’s not much. The journey from Tau Ceti to Erid takes nearly five years, with all sorts of space-related dilation.
Let’s say Dr. Grace decides to eat the coma slurry. That’s no easy feat, because having tasted it, I’m simply incapable of eating it! Because, this vile stuff is slimy, smells terrible, not to mention the taste, which is even worse—if that’s even possible. I threw up every single time I tried, just to give you an idea.
Still, due to time dilation, the trip from Earth to Tau Ceti took four years. If our two astronauts died halfway through the journey, Dr. Grace would still have two years’ worth of coma slurry left.
And now you’re probably thinking:
Two years of coma slurry + 18 months of real food = a narrow survival with a lot of rationing!
But listen to me before you get too happy. It took Grace a whole year to save our planet—twice as long as planned.
Please forgive him for panicking at the thought of being alone in space without his memory (those coma machines are terrible! We didn’t use them, and that was not for nothing.), and then for panicking when he encountered an alien.
In any case, according to the recordings, he didn’t think he’d survive. So he didn’t ration his food. That left him with only six months’ worth of real food.
The coma slurry provides only 1,000 calories per serving. Basically, just one serving every 24 hours. An adult human with Dr. Grace’s build would need about 2,200 calories per day. With the stress of being on an interstellar spacecraft headed for an unknown planet, and considering the Hail Mary’s gravity of 1.5 g… I’ve decided to increase that requirement to at least 2,500 calories.
So the math just doesn’t add up at all.
Even with strict rationing, he could have lasted only about four years at most. Out of five.
Don’t think about it anymore.
He accepted it, and it’s a sacrifice so that you can set foot on this wonderful planet. So be happy, DAMN IT!
I imagine that’s why the Eridians were careful not to mention it. They don’t know how to tell us the grim truth.
I understand them. I don’t know how to tell Colt either—who followed us here with a single, desperate hope—about my ruthless calculations.
He, in fact, harbors a sincere hope that his brother is still among us—and that he’s on this planet.
A hope shared by the world dictator, Eva Stratt. Yet, I showed her the calculations.
She looked me straight in the eye and said, “He’ll find a solution.”
I sighed and said, “All right…” so as not to risk my job.
But still! This woman is the most pragmatic person who has ever walked the earth… And yet, she is convinced of the impossible.
True, Dr. Grace is without a shadow of a doubt the very embodiment of the indomitable human spirit. But physics is unforgiving. It couldn’t care less about your dreams, your hopes, or your strength.
He died. In excruciating pain. For all of us—humans and Eridians alike.
That said, this planet is simply sublime. And its inhabitants—those stone-like beings with such melodious “voices”—are even more so.
I continue to wander through my thoughts while my two teammates try, as best they can, to comfort Colt. He seems to have realized that his hope was in vain...
And unfortunately for him, he’s stuck here now. And for a long time! Far from his wife, far from everything he’s ever known.
It’s a risk he’d agreed to take. But seeing it come true is undoubtedly a whole different feeling.
“Are you listening to me, question?!” an exasperated clatter tells me.
Oh.
It’s an Eridian.
Okay. Great first impression, Liyana! I lift my head, ready to listen to the monolith that wants to talk to me.
They sits down. Well, not really—they (what pronoun should I use for an alien?) instead places their five (!!) “limbs” beneath themself. So that will be their sitting position, from my limited anthropomorphic perspective.
“Yes, I’m listening, statement,” I reply to the Eridian. I try to use their grammar to make the conversation easier. But it sounds weird to me. If I were Chinese, that probably wouldn’t be the case. From what little I know, their grammar seems pretty similar to the Eridians’.
"Why aren’t there any scientists on the crew, question?”
Ah! Right off the bat, the big questions.
What am I supposed to say? Should I lie to my interstellar neighbors?
I open my mouth before closing it again.
First, I need to understand why they's asking this… Let me think.
I’m from Earth, and the Eridians are heading to Earth. I can’t wait to learn more about my alien friends. And for that, what could be better than a scientist, right?
But the crew showed up without a scientist. So, I can’t learn everything I wanted to.
Oh.
Of course.
Makes sense.
I’m thinking. How can I explain this? How can I explain Stratt’s questionable choice?
We should have had two scientists. One for astronomy and the other for biology. However, Stratt replaced them with a doctor, supposedly for safety reasons (she’s actually a nurse—albeit a highly qualified one—whose role is to cook us top-notch meals).
And of course… Colt. The “risk specialist.” According to the brochure I’ve memorized, his role is to “prevent physical injury to the crew and ensure the physical execution of all dangerous maneuvers.”
I don’t even understand what the first function is supposed to mean. And the second? I do that better.
The barely veiled truth is that he’s only here in the (now futile) hope of finding his brother.
I guess he’ll at least be able to pay his respects at his brother’s grave.
Anyway. How am I supposed to justify this (admittedly very likable) but "worthless" crew member to the Eridiens?
Thanks, Stratt…
"Um... We didn't have enough to bring five people (true)." I mumble, looking a little shy. Please, don't ask for more!
Of course, that answer isn't enough for them.
"Is the risk specialist more important, question? A title like that has never been mentioned in any human mission. Statement." The Eridian continues. I feel like smashing my head against their carapace.
"Um... Yes! Haha... But it’s, um... a new thing... hehe. Nowadays, we don’t go anywhere without a risk specialist! Even for a short mission to, I don’t know... Mars? A planet next to Earth." I take a shot at it.
The Eridian nods with their shell. It makes it look very human—it’s a little weird. They seem partially satisfied with the answer.
“What does a risk specialist do, exactly?” Oh no.
“Isn’t it the captain’s job to make sure everything’s okay in case of danger?”
Of course it is. But I’m not going to tell them that—for the sake of my species’ ego! And certainly not the truth, either! That would make the Eridians so sad.
“No! As you surely know, our bodies are fragile. Colt’s role, as the Risk Specialist, is to make sure our bodies are okay.” I’m describing a doctor. We do have a doctor. Well, almost. But Carolina knows enough to be considered a real doctor.
Come on, do better than that, Liyana!
“But not in the same way as our doctor. He makes sure we don’t get hurt during risky maneuvers and actions. By teaching us the right techniques and everything!” I say with an embarrassed laugh. What a weak excuse!
But this guy’s a stuntman! I love him. But in any world, he shouldn’t be on this ship. He did try to learn a little science before coming aboard, but he’s still a beginner.
“Thanks,” the Eridian said simply before leaving.
They aren’t satisfied with the answer. I can feel it in every single bones.
Great first impression, thanks, Stratt. Thanks for making me tell the first interstellar lie!
“So?” Eden asks me as I walk into the control room and take off—again—my EVA suit.
I walk over to him. And to the others.
“According to the captain, the Risk Specialist is there to ‘make sure our bodies are okay and that we don’t make any wrong moves,’” I say rritably.
Why are humans so stupid? They’re a species with an extraordinary culture, and they have a planet that’s just as extraordinary. But humans themselves? They’re stupid and unbearable!
Not content with sending three of their own to their deaths in defective machines, they’re now sending out a mission without a scientist—for no reason at all.
“Basically, a worthless role. That’s what the ‘risk specialist’ is,” I said in a firm, decisive voice.
I hear “Kiara” get up from their chair.
“Well. It’s time to call our ultimate expert on humans,” they said, sounding even more determined than I was. “Rocky,” they said, pulling out their ultrasonic scanner—a sort of Eridian phone.
"Good luck trying to grab them!" I chuckle. They're absolutely impossible to get ahold of. Their partner, Adrian, is slightly easier to track down. Slightly.
Someone’s calling me. Whoever it is, they’d better have a good reason for doing so. A very good one, in fact.
I’m actually extremely busy with Grace. Luckily, he’s in good shape today! Both mentally and physically.
He can get around with just his cane and is smiling. Maybe it’s because of that strange class he taught on… Earth’s internet trends? I don’t understand any of it, but who cares. He and the peedles had a good time. And that the only thing which truly matter.
And now, I’m getting ready to give him the best surprise ever.
So please don’t bother me!
I’m ignoring the call. Which is what I do with about 95% of the calls I get. It’s time to bump that number up to 99%. I always regret hanging up.
The caller doesn’t give up, though. After ten tries, I finally hang up.
“Hurry up,” I urge the person immediately. I don’t have time to waste.
“Savior Rocky, sorry to bother you!” I don’t know this person. So I get ready to pick up.
“It’s about the four humans who arrived this morning!”
Oh.
I change my mind and listen to what this person wants to tell me.
“There’s a captain and a pilot, an engineer, a doctor, and… a risk specialist?…” the person says hesitantly.
“You know so so much about humans—do you know what that’s about?” the person asks in a voice full of maudlin hope that I’m about to shatter.
“Absolutely not. That title means nothing. It’s always the captain’s role.”
I pause for a moment.
That’s weird.
Didn’t they bring a scientist?! That’s ridiculous. Do humans—aside from Grace, of course—even have brains?
Apparently not.
They’d better make good friends. For Grace.
"Tell me what they told you about this role," I say in an even more irritated tone. The person tenses up at the sound of my voice but keeps shuffling through their papers. This is promising.
"Well… He’s a physical safety specialist. He makes sure people move correctly so they don’t get hurt," the person says in a dull voice.
“That means nothing. It’s a bogus role, there solely to mask this individual’s profound uselessness.”
I say bluntly, not wanting to waste my time with this mediocre crew. I’m terribly disappointed, and I think my tone makes that clear.
Should I even introduce this pathetic crew to Grace? Is it even worth it? I have no reason to believe that the other crew members are wise choices.
My hope rested mainly on the fact that there would be one or more scientists Grace could have fun with. That’s clearly not the case, and it’s terrible. He might well be disappointed if I decide to introduce him to this crew.
I need to talk to Adrian.
She replies:
"You're worrying too much, my love. Grace will no doubt be thrilled to see other members of her species again, even if they aren't into science. He could teach them, maybe!" They says in a soft, affectionate voice.
“We just have to make sure they’re friendly.”
I decide to trust them.
Besides, we can already put them to work for Grace’s well-being even before we meet them!
In fact, we’re going to let them try the protein smoothies and bars we feed Grace.
Better to skip the Meburgers. They surely wouldn’t appreciate where they come from.
Four hours later;
After thoroughly exploring our biodome—a very pleasant experience—and comforting Colt, the Eridians asked us to sit down at a table.
A very pretty neon blue-green table made of xenonite, a material that’s basically as important to them as oil is to us.
“Thank you for coming!” said a new Eridian. A large creature, at least as tall as me, as tall as Colt, and as tall as all of us.
Honestly, it scared me a lot. And I wasn’t the only one. But the Eridian seems to be really doing their best to move as gently as possible. So we’re less afraid.
And besides, they’re gorgeous. No, I’m not attracted to a space rock, thanks.
“My name is Adrian. And I’m a specialist in humanity as well as an architect,” they say. Interesting. A specialist in humanity.
But only one of them—Rocky—has ever met an human. Does that mean they’re a specialist based solely on the online content from the Hail Mary? Either way, there aren’t really any other options.
It’s still intriguing, though.
“Today, I’d like you to try the human food we’ve made,” they continue. Another Eridian, a smaller one, hands each of us a sort of… milkshake… or smoothie?
They’re yellow. Honestly, it doesn’t look particularly bad. But it’s a drink! Well, they don’t have mouths, so we can’t really judge, huh?
The smell is weird—sour and musty at the same time. Disgusting. It’s bad yogurt.
Besides, this is probably the first time. They’re likely unaware of the absurd amount of provisions on the ship and at the farm. Maybe they thought we only had the bare minimum. Which would make sense, actually.
I’m glad that’s not the case.
“Um… This is a drink, right?” asks Min Li, standing next to me, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. Luckily, the Eridian can’t see.
We’re all terrible guests.
“Yes, it’s in liquid form. Because he…” They cut themselves off abruptly, as if they’d said something dumb—or revealed a secret. Whatever.
“But all the needed nutrients are in this drink!” says the Eridian cheerfully and proudly.
I hope they isn't the one who came up with this concoction.
"It's lemon-flavored."
Is the lemon in the room with us?
I'm not sure.
"Now, please try it," they says.
We nod hesitantly. Frankly, hospital food seems better than this.
...
...
...
Well.
How can I put this?
We were told that Adrian was used to (how? *Which one?) watching humans eat. This simply lit up Colt’s face. The comedown is going to hurt him badly.
This Eridian, allegedly used to seeing humans eat, ran off in disgust.
Well, we all threw up.
This thing (it’s not food, okay?) is the second-worst thing I’ve ever eaten.
It’s slightly better than the coma slurry.
Slightly.
Thank goodness we’re completely self-sufficient when it comes to food. Eating this atrocity is like the seventh gate of hell. I wouldn’t have survived my stay on Erid with this thing as my only sustenance. And yet, I’m not picky at all.
So Adrian ran off from our disgusting ordeal (running is relativefor an Eridian, but still), hurrying to join the others in the black cube at the back of the dome, which I assume is a control room.
We made the worst first impression possible and imaginable. We arrived with an incomplete team in the eyes of our hosts, who clearly wanted scientists among us.
These same hosts kindly prepared food for us—no doubt incredibly difficult for them to synthesize—all after building a dome for us. That way, we won’t have to wear our EVA suits.
What do we do to thank them?
I lied to them.
And we throw up right in their faces the meal they worked so hard to prepare.
Great.
And now, they’re all in their big room (with glass walls) in what looks like a crisis meeting.
The diplomatic community will hate us if it didn’t already.