Chapter Text
Awareness drifts back slowly for Grace.
It takes some time for him to wake up from the thick blanket of sleep still enveloping him. The first thing he’s able to pinpoint is how eerily quiet the room around him is. The only sound he can really catch is something tapping against what sounds like glass.
A second thought quickly follows: ow.
Whatever sleep still lingers is quickly waved off by the deep pain radiating from his left arm. He lets out a hiss and reaches over to gingerly hold the injured limb. A series of musical notes plays from nearby.
”Good morning, Grace.”
Ah. Everything’s coming back now.
“Morning,” Grace groans. He pushes himself up with his good arm. The dormitory is still pitifully dim from the emergency lights. Rocky stands near the xenonite barrier with one claw still held up to it.
”You are okay, question?” he asks. ”Rest was good, question?”
There’s a pitch to his voice that Grace can’t exactly pinpoint. The closest he can compare it to was when they had both realized they were stuck without power in a decaying orbit. Something that they’re still very much experiencing.
“Yup,” Grace swings his legs over the side of the bunk. Even through the poor lighting, he spots the generator in the airlock.
“Generator all good to go?” He asks the Eridian, although he’s not sure why. He already knows the answer.
”Yes yes,” Rocky trills. He points to the generator. ”I clean, seal, and fuel generator. I cycle airlock with you air to let cool. You install after you eat.”
“Good idea,” Grace says. “Computer, breakfast.”
Thankfully, the NannyBot still has enough power to supply him food and coffee, but not much else. He tries to ignore the sharp pain from his arm, but can’t suppress a wince from a particularly harsh throb when he reaches to hand the robot arms the trash.
”You make hurt face,” Rocky helpfully observes.
“Just my arm acting up,” Grace tries to brush aside the concern and stands up. “Alright, give me a few minutes to install the generator. I’ll get ready to retrieve the Beetles afterwards.”
”Have robot arms check you arm before you get Beetles,” Rocky insists. He taps the wall again. ”Been hurting you more since before power outage and arms no change cloth in sleep.”
“They probably didn’t because of the outage. I’ll have the NannyBot check it before I get ready,” Grace says, absentmindedly rubbing the offending appendage. He’s not exactly surprised that Rocky’s noticed his increased discomfort. He figures it’s because of the lack of painkillers and from spending hours inspecting the fuel lines for Taumoeba contamination, but doesn’t voice it. He knows the Eridian already feels bad about his ammonia burns and pushing him off the pain meds.
His answer must satisfy Rocky, because he doesn’t object when Grace opens the airlock. The generator is blissfully room temperature—well, human room temperature. He shimmies his way into the storage area and reinstalls the generator as quickly as he dares. A relieved sigh escapes him when the lights flicker back on.
”You equipment sound normal again,” Rocky calls from above. ”Success, question?”
“Success, statement,” Grace replies.
”Happy!”
Ok, one disaster fixed. Onto the next.
Grace purses his lips against the blossoming pain in his arm as he pushes himself out of the storage area. He calls on the computer to clean and rewrap his arm the moment he’s sitting back on his bunk. One of the NannyBot’s hands takes his arm.
As the arms get to work, Grace focuses his attention back on the Eridian. He’s busy working away on something at his workbench as always. But the human also notices the way he’s tilted towards the barrier with a slight but constant shift of his carapace.
“You watching for me, buddy?” Grace asks. He’s making a point to not look at his arm. Just the thought of seeing his burns makes him a bit queasy.
”I always watch robot arms when they change you cloth,” he explains in a quieter tone. ”Plus you arm sound even less smooth. Want to know what robot arms say.”
“Well, it could just be from some of the damaged and older skin peeling away. It’s part of th-“ Grace starts to explain, but gasps at the sudden flare of pain that erupts from his arm as the NannyBot continues removing the bandages. He squeezes his eyes shut against it.
”Grace, question?” Rocky calls, but Grace doesn’t respond as the NannyBot mercifully finishes unwrapping his arm, allowing him to take a breath once more. He hears the NannyBot moving and feels something in his ear briefly. One of the hands gently prods a spot on his arm, to which Grace can’t hold back a groan. A worried trill rings from Rocky’s side of the dormitory.
[Increased inflammatory response and discharge to major burn wound. Temperature: 37.5C. Diagnosis: Localized infection. Triage result: Rinse of infected area and IV antibiotics.] The computer announces.
Oh, boy.
”You arm is infected, question?” Rocky asks. His voice is easily an octave higher than usual. All the while, Grace sees the NannyBot preparing an IV once he opens his eyes. He gets a quick look of his poor limb when he does. It’s just enough time to get a glimpse at a larger and particularly irritated spot near the crook of his arm in a sea of scaly, patchy skin. He looks away before it’s, ironically, burned into his memory.
“Computer, oral antibiotics,” he requests. He takes deliberate deep breaths to keep himself calm. Last thing they both need is for him to panic… well, more than he already is. At least it’s still internal for now.
[It is advised to implement an IV for-]
“Oral, please,” Grace interrupts. The NannyBot takes the hint and stores away the IV supplies. It hands him two pills and a pouch of water instead.
”No no, you listen to robot arms,” Rocky quickly says, almost too quick for Grace to understand.
“Hey, Rock, it’s ok,” he starts once he washes down the pills. Of course, the NannyBot starts to clean his arm almost immediately afterwards. He can’t help the wince that follows.
”No sound ok. Infection is bad. Bad bad bad.”
“Ok, ok,” Grace concedes. Really, he can’t blame the guy for worrying. As much as he likes to take (partial) mock-offense to Rocky’s jokes about how fragile humans are, it’s not exactly an unfounded assumption. Especially in the eyes—ears? sound receptors?—of an Eridian.
“Yeah, it’s not the greatest news,” he admits to his worried friend. “But it sounds like we caught it early. The NannyBot will give me some antibiotics—ah, medicine created to target infections. It should be gone in about a week or so.”
”Mmmm,” Rocky mutters, shifting his weight back and forth. ”How long medicine take to work, question?”
Grace rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. Rocky’s probably not going to like the answer.
“It depends on the medicine. Sometimes 24 hours, other times up to 72 hours. Maybe even longer,” Grace explains. He bites his tongue to avoid mentioning the potential of the antibiotic not working at all. “But we can’t really afford to wait for it to start working. Not with our current orbit.”
As expected, Rocky mutters again and fidgets his claws as he thinks. He’s—they’re both—worried, but they just don’t have any good options at the moment. Grace needs to get the Beetles so they can escape their orbit around Adrian.
”You have robot arms check you arm often,” Rocky eventually suggests. ”Clean when needed. Change cloth often. Tell me if you no feel good.”
“Deal,” Grace agrees. “Although, I’m not sure if that last part will help with much.”
”Want to know if you not healthy. Watch you closer then.” Rocky simply explains, tilting his carapace. Ok, dumb question on Grace’s part. Better to have an actually lucid person watching him work in the event he gets sicker so he doesn’t make any stupid decisions like before.
“Alright,” Grace says once the NannyBot finishes rewrapping his arm. He pushes away the deep-seated pain as best as he can and stands up. If Rocky notices his racing heart, he doesn’t comment.
“You go make your way to your control room bulb. I’ll meet you up there to get the EVA suit on,” Grace says.
”Yes yes,” Rocky replies. He’s already making his way up, but stops halfway up the dormitory tunnel. ”Be careful of arm. Tell me if it worse.”
“Yes, mom,” Grace teases again and shoos the Eridian away. He knows full well Rocky can still hear him, but he lets out a sigh and rakes his good hand through his greasy hair nonetheless. All it does is make him miss proper showers, so he tries to take a few more deep breaths while preparing himself to climb up the ladder.
It’s only an EVA in non-zero g with an aching and infected arm. How bad can it be?