Archive of Our Own

I would never regret it.

How could I? The very idea feels like betrayal and fills me with guilt. I comfort myself with the excuse that it's just an intrusive thought; a perfectly typical - even if quite deranged - occurrence in the human brain.

It's a quiet moment on the ship. 

Rocky is asleep in one of his many spacious xenonite tunnels on Mary. I keep watch while idly browsing the oldest and most obscure scientific articles I can find on my laptop for entertainment, but only partially paying attention to what I'm reading. There is little else to do; we’re on a steady course towards Erid, Mary is not complaining about a thing, the taumoeba are happy, there is nothing to fix, nothing to measure or study in particular. There is nothing that needs my urgent attention. There is nothing to do. 

Something tells me that I better get used to this way of living. 

Well, my one purpose now is to watch Rocky. 

Another wave of guilt quietly but persistently laps at my brain. About all of the times when I hadn’t taken the whole watching-while-sleeping thing sufficiently seriously. I can’t recall an exact occasion, but I’m certain that I haven’t been doing what Rocky truly needed, especially at first. I never actually left him alone (how far away can you get on a cramped ship, really?) but I would spend the time doing other things in his vicinity, or in the nearest room. But that’s not the Eridian way, is it? He did mention keeping watch on the other’s chest, that first time, to make sure the other feels safe and comfortable. I should have paid more attention.

Things changed a bit. Since the taumoeba fishing, and certainly since I came back for Rocky. My mind kept running over the worst-case scenarios, the terrible what-ifs. What if I got him killed through my slowness, my inability to quickly pick up the collector and leave? Through the stupid fragility of my squishy body, unable to withstand a few g? What if I hadn’t come back for him, and left him with no fuel; all of his taumoeba freed and astrophage gone? What if I had chosen home, and Earth? Rocky would die in loneliness and agony, the whole of Erid would perish. But at least I would get to go home, right? 

No. It’s never even been a conscious thought. It was a cruel twist of fate, no doubt about it - to get my hopes up so impossibly high after Rocky offered to help me get home, after I’ve been certain for so long that I would die out here - only for it to be crushed by a bunch of mostly single-celled organisms. Of course my coward genes piped up and whispered sweet nothings - tuck your tail between your legs, pretend you didn’t come to this realisation, pretend that you think Rocky will be fine and just go home, you’ve earned it. Show Stratt that you survived against all the odds. It scares me to no end that there might be an alternate reality out there in which I’ve listened to those voices. So at least in this one, I try to do everything that Rocky might need from me. 

So I keep watch. The journey to Erid seems long now, but before I know it, watching over Rocky will no longer be my responsibility - or privilege. That will become Adrian’s duty, soon. (I know that Rocky worries sometimes whether or not Adrian is still his mate. Whether or not they’ve left him for someone else. All I can do is hope with my whole heart that they haven’t; I can’t imagine how horribly Rocky would take it. What an unbearable loss and heartbreak it would be for him to lose everyone important to him - twenty-two of his friends, his crewmates; and then his mate.)

What about me, then?

It’s not a thought process I like to engage in too often, but I can’t help it sometimes. The harder I fight to keep these fears away, the more aggressive they get in trying to invade my mind. 

If by some miracle I make it to Erid, what will become of me? 

Coming back for Rocky was a suicide mission; but one that I willingly chose this time. Rocky helped me un-suicide the suicide mission that Stratt sent me on, but in the end, I used it all to get back to him. It was the first time in seemingly forever that I was able to decide my own fate, and it’s the choice I would make again if I had to. Rocky is my best friend. Back on Earth, no one is waiting for me, anyway.

This time, eventually, both Mary and I will run out of fuel, but that will be fine. I just have to stretch my food enough to safely get Rocky to Erid. Even if I die before that, I am confident that I could get him up to speed beforehand on how to pilot the ship. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned out to be a better pilot for Mary than me. 

But then Rocky started to talk about life after. My life. On Erid. As if it was completely reasonable and possible to bring an alien home - an alien who’s completely incompatible with everything in said home, with the very air that you breathe and atmosphere you live in capable of crushing and poisoning him in seconds. 

Then came the talks of a biodome. An enclosed area that would mimic the earth’s temperature, atmosphere, air composition, landscape, and illumination. A tall order, if you ask me. Rocky always gets so animated and excited when talking about it, his thrills an octave higher, but I try to avoid the subject whenever I can. I don’t want to dampen his excitement with the reality of how impossible it is, and I know that he would be able to see any fake enthusiasm right through me. 

I admire his own drive for it, but he doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know the half of it - he barely knows the first thing about keeping a human alive, and-

Wrapped up in my thoughts and spiralling, I startle when I hear scratching sounds against the xenonite; the first signs of Rocky waking. I put the laptop away and just watch him come back to consciousness. It’s always fascinating, and I can’t help but think of an overgrown cat, twitching and stretching as it wakes up. 

‘Grace, question?’ are the first words that he speaks, before he seems to even regain full control of all his limbs. 

‘Yeah, pal. I’m right here. I watched you sleep.’

‘Thank you. Rocky happy happy happy.’ 

It can’t be good for the heart - and it’s a weird feeling to get such violent cuteness aggression towards your best friend on the regular. Still, it’s easier to focus on this feeling, rather than dwelling on Rocky’s deeply rooted, underlying anxiety - the thing that makes him even more clingy and nervous about being alone. 

‘Grace busy, question?’ 

How busy could one really be here? ‘Not really, why? You got something going on?’ 

‘No understand. We can go earth room, question?’ 

‘Oh, uh. Sure. What do you want from the earth room?’

‘Need much inspiration for Grace new home on Erid!’

I don’t stop him. He’s already scuttling through his tunnels towards the Mental Health Room. It’s wholesome, of course, how he calls my potential future zoo enclosure (or a xenonite box) a home. Whatever he’s planning, he has to be aware that it’s a massive undertaking. Despite this, he seems to believe that it could really work. No matter how much effort it takes, I can see that he really means it. He would be willing to give it his all. 

Has anyone on Earth done so much for me? 

‘Show the one you like like! The one with water. Grace like picture with the water, correct, question?’ Rocky calls out as I reluctantly catch up to him. 

‘Yes. Grace like the one with the water. The beach.’ 

‘Beach, yes yes yes. We make Grace home look like beach. Acceptable, question?’

Sitting down beside him, I can’t help but shake my head. ‘I think you’re trying to bite off more than you can chew.’ 

‘No understand. Rocky not chew. Rocky not eat right now.’

‘It’s just a- never mind. What I’m saying is that it would be so difficult to replicate, don’t you think? Just look at it,’ I point to his thingamajig that he’s built (so smart!) to allow him to hear the screen. ‘There is water, and it’s moving in these wave patterns, all the time. Then there’s these heaps upon heaps of microscopic grains of sand. And then bigger pieces of rocks. Don’t forget about the air, too. You know the gases we’ve got in the air, but did you know that we also have a small percentage of water in it as well? It’s an insanely complicated system, bud.’

Okay, maybe I went a bit too hard too quickly. 

But Rocky seems undeterred. ‘But beach is acceptable, question?’ 

I huff. ‘Sure, Rock. Beach is very very acceptable. Beach is very good.’ 

‘Good. Happy happy happy. We solve one problem at a time. Rocky come up with idea for water motion.’ He pulls out some xenonite models out of his satchel, little miniature figurines that he must have worked on earlier. He lifts up one that resembles a petri dish. ‘We make thing like pool and fill with rock and sand and ground for Grace. The rest fill with water. At bottom of pool in water, we put this,’ he lifts up another piece that looks like a little like a fin. ‘We put this on track and it move the water from under! Make many many waves. We adjust size and angle and speed until wave look correct.’ 

I can’t help but be impressed. ‘Geepers, you really thought this through, huh?’

Rocky visibly perks up from the models in his hands. ‘Yes! Grace like water motion. So Rocky make water motion.’ 

As simple as that.

Well, it would be pretty stupid to get teary-eyed over a mere concept of artificial waves, but here we are. There was this quote I've heard somewhere, about… something… to the point of invention, but- I don’t want to think about that. It’s a bit too much to think about that. I wipe at my eyes a bit too viciously, once, twice. Rocky, who must be used to my gross leakiness by now, doesn’t comment. 

‘Thanks, pal. I sure would love to see some waves again.’ 

I begin to hate and dread the silence. The times when Rocky goes to sleep, or is tinkering on some project or other and I’m alone with my thoughts. Understandably, these are the times when they sabotage me most effectively. 

And now that my self-destructive neurons got the ball rolling and realised how effective that topic is, my forced-upon future on Erid is all I can think about now whenever my mind lacks distraction. 

Okay. So let’s assume that somehow the Eridians build me that enclosure, and I manage to not combust on the spot once I leave my ship. Let’s assume that one of them, just one (though Rocky surely can be pretty stubborn), is enough to convince everyone in charge to put endless time, effort, and resources into building and maintaining a place that can keep me (just one single alien) alive. Let’s keep on dreaming and assume that they would be patient enough to work on synthesising food for me. 

How long would it take for them to realise I’m more trouble than I’m worth, more than they even expected, and would just pull the plug on the whole operation? Would it be the fact that they’d have to work out how to synthesise vitamins and minerals and micronutrients to keep my body from gradually just falling apart, despite their best efforts? Would it be the horrible fragility of the human body and susceptibility to disease? In reality, what would I do if (when) I’d slip a disc, break a leg, get an infection, develop cancer or diabetes or cardiovascular disease or cavities? The human body loves to just fudge itself up out of nowhere. I wouldn't be able to survive by myself, without medicine. They would have to replicate a whole human clinic just for me and have it on standby, because those health things rarely like to wait once they make themselves known. The truth is, I'm the most terrible investment possible for Eridians in terms of keeping and studying an alien pet. The effort to reward ratio is horrendous and not in anyone’s favour. 

I could never blame them, if they’d decide to get rid of me. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, either! It’d be worth it if I could at least set foot on a different planet, and be the first human to do so! 

But I know that Rocky wouldn’t see it that way. I know he would be hurt. I don’t want to overestimate my importance in his life by any means - but we are going to spend quite a while together on our journey to Erid; and we already have. Even by now, there’s no denying the bond between us, solidified by our own individual and shared traumas and near-death experiences. My death will likely hurt him, unfortunately, however quickly or slowly it comes. But I take comfort in the fact that he’s still young and has centuries to live with his one and only mate. They will be a family together, and have a life on this planet under a healthy star again. He will gradually - thankfully - forget about me and move on. He has to.

Though I sure do hope it will not involve his scientists putting me down like a dog despite Rocky’s kicking and screaming and endless protests. He doesn’t need any more trauma like this. 

‘Grace wait until Adrian join us for meal, question?’ 

I blink myself out of the wild overthinking journey I just sent myself on, and find myself sitting in the lab, cold burrito (one of the last few) in hand, half-eaten and abandoned since I zoned out. I give Rocky a half-hearted glare. ‘Ha ha. Smarty-pants.’ 

‘No understand.’ 

‘It’s a word for someone who’s trying to- pretending to be smart.’

‘Rocky not pretend. Rocky smart!’ 

I can’t help but smile as I resume my one meal for the day. ‘Whatever you say, bud.’ I do love that we can just tease each other like this. Rocky is the easiest being to talk to, even if we don’t speak the same language. And he can call the human brain useless and faulty and my body a leaky, squishy blob (he’s not wrong, is he?) but I know he cares about me.

‘Why Grace so still like this suddenly, question?’ 

‘Oh, I just,’ I start, but quickly pause to chew and swallow my food, not wanting to gross him out any further by speaking with my mouth full. I know it’s one of those things that really unsettles him. It was a funny joke to tease him with it at first, but then I decided to be more mature about it. ‘I just got lost in thought.’ 

‘Grace got lost, question? Grace sit on chair and not move. Make no sense.’ 

‘It’s a saying.’ 

‘Human speech make no sense so many time.’ 

‘You’re not wrong, I’ll give you that. But it just means I was thinking a lot and didn’t even realise I was doing it until you told me and brought my attention back to the present.’

‘Ohh, understand. What Grace think about so intense, question?’

Well. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?  

I don't want to lie to him. I don't want to ever lie to him. But I also don't really want to tell him what's been occupying my thoughts lately. I don't want him to worry, or worse - to feel guilty.

‘Um. Food.’

I just know that if Rocky had a face, he would be giving me the most deadpan expression. ‘Food.’

‘Yes.’ I feel so dumb. 

But Rocky’s demeanour seems to change, his trills quieter. ‘Grace hungry. Not have much food left. Rocky know Grace not eat enough to have food for more long. Grace should eat more taumoeba.’

Well, this took an unnecessary turn. 

The mere thought of the little buggers nearly makes me gag.

‘Don’t worry, Rock. I'm saving my energy, I don't need as much food, now,’ I dance around the truth. The fact is that I have been sleeping more than usual these days for that very reason. ‘Just. Remembered some food from earth, that's all.’

I see him fidget with his two front arms’ claws, a habit that would be so unbearably adorable if it weren't a sign of his anxieties.

‘Erid scientists synthesise the food Grace like. Food as similar as earth food as possible.’

He can't. I know he can't. But I love him for wanting to try his very best and more. ‘Okay. Thanks, Rocky. I look forward to it.’

It’s a boring, repetitive job, but it has to be done. Maintaining the taumoeba cultures is critical, and regular passaging is non-negotiable. On one hand, at least it gives me something to do. On the other, the idea of doing this for years until we reach Erid is rather daunting. I try not to think about it too much. 

No matter how I feel about it, it’s going to be my main source of calories for the foreseeable future. 

‘Grace sad.’ 

Ah, crud. I zoned out again. Unacceptable. Not when doing the big science. 

But it’s a strange declaration from Rocky. ‘Question?’ I joke.

‘No. Statement.’ 

‘Oh. You seem quite sure of yourself there, buddy.’

‘Grace quiet when do science. Grace not make dumb jokes for five hours and twenty minutes. Grace move more slow. Body position more deviation from vertical. Body more quiet. Grace sad. Statement statement statement.’ 

‘Wow.’ 

It’s insane how he just- how he just pays attention like that. Looks at me - listens to me - like I matter. I should be used to it by now, and yet, it still baffles me - it’ll take some more getting used to. To be known and seen so completely. 

I’m quite intrigued about his comment about a quieter body but I leave it for another time to ask. 

‘Why Grace sad, question?’ He taps his arm as per usual with his questions, but they’re quieter. Like he’s trying to be gentle with me. ‘Grace miss Earth, question?’ 

He always asks this. This is the thing he always suspects. It makes sense, doesn’t it? He’s both right, and completely wrong. I miss the human, Earth things. The mundane things I took for granted - waking up to a cloudy morning, the smell of rain, making a cup of coffee before hopping on a bike and going to work. Grading papers, preparing lessons and quizzes. Heating up dinner in a microwave and eating it still half-cold in front of the TV. Smiling at a cashier, petting a stray cat, doing grocery shopping. Things that I’ll never be able to do again. I miss my life, regardless of how uneventful and lonely to the outside observer it seemed. 

But I also don’t. 

No one is waiting for me. No one wants me to come back. 

Did you think I needed a high school teacher on the project? 

Somehow, those words cut deep. Eva Stratt didn’t hold back when she was cornered with just one option - an option that wasn’t cooperating. 

I don’t particularly respect you. 

Of course not. Who would? After my shameful stunt at her office, after my terrible display of cowardice, no one would. No one on the Hail Mary project would want me back. 

A lump forms in my throat. I taste soil and feel the pinpricks of scorched grass against my face.

‘Rocky…’ I hover, electing to finally put down the pipette I’ve been holding in my hand for a while. Right now, I’m emotional. Being emotional makes me stupid. And a lesson I’ve learned the hard way is that you don’t do science when you’re stupid (or more than usual, at least). ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ 

‘Yes, Rocky listen.’ 

‘It won’t be pretty.’ 

‘Grace voice pretty, Rocky like. Rocky always listen.’ 

God. 

I don’t want to tell him, I’m too scared to tell him. But I feel like he has to know - withholding that information feels like lying to him; lying about who I am. And I’m not who he thinks I am. 

At the very least, it will distract him for a while from the real problem on my mind, which is my future on Erid. 

‘Rocky, I, uh… I’ve been remembering. My memory is coming back. About how I ended up here. In space.’ 

He visibly perks up. ‘Grace remember! Good good good!’ 

‘No, it’s- it’s not good. You said before that- we’re both good people. Because we sacrificed ourselves to come here, take the risk, save our stars and planets. But… but I’m not a good person like you, Rocky. I didn’t-’ I feel myself clenching and unclenching my fist, the gloves pulling on my skin as I do. I fixate my gaze on the small graduation marks on the pipette I put on the table. ‘I didn’t come here willingly. Bit by bit, I pieced together what happened, and- I was forced to come here. The person who was supposed to be here, and his replacement, died in an explosion, a terrible accident. Just days before launch. And the boss, the person in charge, said- she said I would take their place as the mission’s scientist. But I didn’t want to.’ 

I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry.

‘I was on the project team. One of many people. But I just so happened to make a few accidental discoveries about the astrophages, and… I got more and more involved in the project. And then it turned out that I had the specific genes that were necessary for me to survive the coma. The long sleep on the way to Tau Ceti. Very few people have it. But I had the knowledge about the mission and the necessary genes and- And they made me, Rocky. They forced me. Because I was a coward. They gave me a choice to get on the ship, and I said no. I said no, because I was scared. I didn’t want to go to space, even though I was the right fit. I didn’t want to die. I was selfish, Rocky. I was more scared for myself than I was about my whole planet dying.’ 

I hear my voice crack. It sounds like someone else. 

‘So I ran. I ran like the coward I am, and they had to chase me, and they had to sedate me because otherwise I just wouldn’t go-’

‘Grace.’ 

I can’t look at him. There is no disappointed expression to fear, but I just know I’ll be able to see it written all over his carapace. 

I feel a gentle press of warm xenonite against my leg. ‘Grace sit. Grace body shake. Sit sit.’ 

My legs are wobbly as I lower myself down onto the lab stool. I try to hold myself together, to not leak from my face, but when Rocky rubs one hand against my leg, like a pet, like a caress - after learning that it’s comforting to humans - I can’t hold it in. I shake and choke on wet sobs as Rocky continues to silently comfort me. 

It’s only when I get the worst of my crying out of my system and manage to calm down a bit, he speaks quietly. ‘Is a painful memory for Grace. Rocky understand. Grace was very scared. Project boss very cruel to Grace.’

‘N-no, no, she- she did what she had to do. I was the best fit. I shouldn’t- shouldn’t have fought so hard. I should have agreed. Many people volunteered. But I refused. I was too scared to die for humanity. Coward. Coward. I’m such a coward, Rocky, I’m-’ 

‘Grace not coward. Statement. Statement,’ Rocky taps against the floor several times. ‘Grace mission much different from Rocky mission. Grace knew he die in space. Grace knew he not go home after mission. Grace scared to die. Rocky understand.’

‘But- but it shouldn’t have mattered. I should have been willing to sacrifice my life for my species. The whole planet,’ I press. How can he not agree that this makes me a filthy, lowlife coward? 

‘But Grace come back for Rocky.’ 

Of course I did. And I would again. He’s my best friend. 

I fight the knee-jerk urge to downplay it, to say that he would do the same. I know he wouldn’t - and that’s okay. I wouldn’t want him to. He has Adrian, and he needs to get back to them. He doesn’t have any beetles, so he has to deliver the taumoeba himself. It’s a relief that our situations aren’t reversed. But I wouldn’t want him to feel guilty, coming to that hypothetical conclusion. 

I came back for you. I’d always come back for you. 

It’s one of those things that’s awkward if you can’t say it back. 

‘Grace could go home. Be hero forever. But because Grace is selfless and brave human, Rocky survive. All of Erid survive. Thanks to Grace.’ 

My eyes well up with fresh tears. 

‘Grace not coward.’ He stomps. ‘Come back for Rocky even when think Grace die. Grace is the most brave person Rocky ever meet.’ 

That does it for me, and I start to sob in earnest once more. 

‘Leaky space blob. But precious precious precious to Rocky.’

‘T-thanks, Rocky,’ I sniffle. ‘I thought you’d hate me if you found out.’ 

He’s very still for several long seconds. 

Then, he turns his carapace and struts away with a declaration, ‘Earth no have intelligent life.’ 

Rocky fix, as he says - and his repairing capabilities extend well beyond engineering. 

Being around him helps, as it always does. It helps ease my anxiety to the point of me even being able to forget, for a moment, what I was so worried about. Maybe I should tell him that he doesn’t need to be so careful, that he doesn’t need to follow me around more than usual. Tease me and make fun of me and my faulty human brain - but not without reminding me the next second that I’m best friend, and that I’m precious. As if I would become sad again, or would take his jokes seriously. 

Though I must be honest with myself - I kind of like it. Every chance to spend more time with him, to talk more with him, to have him hug or touch me, even through his now improved xenonite suit, is a net positive in my life, and God knows I could use some of that. 

But the more time I spend with Rocky, and the closer we continuously grow, the louder the voice at the back of my mind becomes, bringing more fears about Erid. 

It was only logical to first worry about the essentials. An air to breathe, the correct pressure to ideally avoid exploding or imploding. The correct temperature to not burn up or freeze, and some calorie source and water. The bare minimum to survive a day. But as Rocky’s optimism rubs off on me and makes me believe that it could all be possible - if I got very, very lucky - the next challenges and fears make themselves known.

Because that’s what the human brain does best, doesn’t it? Create problems for itself. Once basic survival is ensured, problems of a different kind arise. 

What exactly… will I spend the rest of my life on, however long that might be?

From Rocky’s constant planning, it seems that he wants to make me live for as long as possible. Let’s get adventurous and optimistic and say that I could survive for a whole decade on Erid. I’m sure his scientists will want to study this alien life form, but the experiments can’t be too invasive - at least while I’m alive - if they want me to live that long. So maybe I won’t just become a full-time lab rat. 

What else will be there? 

If I’ll have freedom to do as I please within my enclosure, perhaps it would be possible for me to have one of those energy transformers that Rocky was working on, to power up my laptop. Maybe I could spend my time reading through all of that human knowledge that Stratt has so kindly put on the ship. I could play every video game and watch every movie, read every book and academic paper in existence. 

But I know that won’t be enough. It’s not enough for a human to stay sane. And I know it’s not something that Eridians could understand. Rocky has been on the ship by himself, longer than I’ve been alive. A human simply couldn’t. 

Maybe I’m feeling too sorry for myself. I should be - and am - infinitely grateful that Rocky is considering- is putting in that much effort into giving me a comfortable life on Erid. But I know the shortcomings of that squishy meatball of neurons between my ears. There’s a reason why just about two weeks’ worth of solitary confinement is considered inhuman torture. 

No human touch. 

No social contact. 

No purpose to live. 

I will descend into insanity, an ugly self-destruction of the brain, the mind, until I’ll either kill myself, or someone else will have to because I’ll become a danger to-

Oh, Rocky. 

He will come to hate me so much. 

Not at first, of course. I know he cares about me. He wouldn’t have risked his life for me if he didn’t. Right? I doubt he’ll just abandon me, that would be silly to assume when all he talks about these days is the home he wants to build for me. We’re still friends. He’s my best friend. I’m holding onto that with all my might. 

But he’s going back home. And I want him to reconnect with his family, coworkers, neighbours, or however the societal structures work on Erid. Most of all, I want him to reunite with Adrian. I know how dearly he misses them. I want that happiness for him, I truly do. But there’s a part of my brain - a horrid, shameful part of my isolated, trauma-ridden brain - that will stew and fester and turn to something truly ugly; jealousy. 

I imagine it this way - in the best case scenario, I will become a bit like Rocky’s dog (though I doubt I’ll be living in his home). A friend from a different species who is cherished (precious precious precious to Rocky) and needs to be taken care of, interacted with. But, generally, you leave your dog behind when you go about your daily business; go to work, meet with friends, spend quality time with your loved one. 

I’ll wait, patiently like a dog by the door, until Rocky comes to see me. 

I don’t want to burden his life with my existence. As a friend, I don’t. 

But as a selfish human being who will have no other options for social interactions, I want to. God, I want to. I never want him to leave me. I want to see him every day. I want him to-

I want him to still care about me the way he does now. 

I’m sure I’ll develop some sort of psychosis and mental damage and Mary will become stifling and unbearable to be in, but change, and the thoughts of outside are just as scary. It was so much easier to think that I’m going to die before setting a foot on Erid. 

Erid.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. 

Could be weeks. Could be years. But it feels like gaining consciousness for the first time. I just know I’m here. I must have been awake before. 

Reality comes back to me in pieces, though at first, there isn’t much I can learn about my surroundings with my senses. It’s- it’s so dark. There’s the faintest glow somewhere, in the distance, and I can see just about a metre from my face. Not enough to see anything in the endless darkness, but enough to see the edges of my transparent xenonite enclosure. 

Coffin would be more fitting, I think. 

What’s happening? 

‘R-Rocky?’ I try to call out, but my voice is hoarse and ruined. My throat is on fire. It feels like a chemical burn. 

Speaking is a lost cause for now, so I try to move - only to find out that it’s a useless attempt, too. Panic surges through me when I find out that I can’t move my arms or legs. As my eyes begin to adjust to the minimal light, I lift my head as much as I can, and find myself naked, all my limbs spread and restrained to a surface that’s slightly angled, my head higher than my feet. Various tubes enter my body, either through an orifice or right through my skin. In the darkness, my flesh appears black around the entry points, like it's necrotic. Slightly distorted through the xenonite, I start to pick up some clicking noises, and the characteristic warbles and melodies of Eridian speech. 

Oh God. A harrowing sob tears out of my aching lungs. Oh God, I became their lab rat after all. 

There’s not going to be a home for me here. No more dreams of a beach - only of a hopefully swift death. 

Rocky must have failed to convince them. It makes sense, doesn’t it? He’s just one person, against the curiosity of all of Erid’s scientists. 

I clench and unclench my fists. Or at least one. My left hand doesn’t seem to cooperate too well. 

Are we just starting? Is the worst still ahead of me? My trembling breath fogs up the xenonite momentarily, a pathetic whine echoing off the walls of my transparent tomb. 

But then- oh! 

I can feel him- I can sense him on some molecular, subconscious level before I see him. 

Rocky. 

He’s right there. He’s there to my left, and I want to turn my whole body towards him, take comfort in his proximity, but I only succeed in turning my head. ‘Rocky!’ I try again, the blissful relief at the sight of him eases the pain in my throat somewhat, making it easier to speak. I’m a little ashamed of my nakedness in front of him, but logically I know that he must have heard the shape of my body before, even under my clothes. 

He’s silent. 

Had he not heard me? ‘Rocky, I- I don’t remember-’ I cough wetly, a sound surely disgusting to him, ‘-don’t remember anything. H-how long was I out? What’s- going on?’ 

I see movement behind him. Other Eridians, but they’re too far. I can’t make out their shapes in the dark, or what they’re doing. Rocky remains unmoving, mute; I can only feel that he’s listening to me, observing intently. 

‘P-please, say something.’ I hear my voice quivering, tears welling up in my eyes. Knowing how much my leakiness disgusts him makes them come faster. ‘The t-taumoeba. Did it work?’ 

Have we had that conversation before? Is this amnesia again, or did I truly just get to Erid? I need some answers. I need-

My vision whites out. Every muscle in my body tenses. I arch off the surface as much as the restraints allow. I can’t breathe. Then the pain registers. Then the echo of my screams does. 

Eventually, the pain stops, though the aftershocks continue to resonate through my body like a sharp knife, just the way I can still hear my torn screams resonating through the xenonite. 

What… was that? It felt like being- electrocuted? I’m not sure- my brain is mush. I wheeze, trying to breathe through it, but the panic only builds. They’re not exchanging the air in this box quick enough, are they? Or are they deliberately filling it with more carbon dioxide to make me panic? 

I look to Rocky. Still silent. Still unmoving. My vision is becoming hazy. 

‘Rocky, please- can you- can you get me out of here? Please-’ 

But I know the answer. He can’t. Or maybe he even put me in here himself. But I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything.

More sounds, more movement outside my coffin. The tubes twitch, pulling at my flesh and, what I can only assume are metallic needles inside me. I grit my teeth. I can bear it. I can bear it.

No, that’s wrong. 

I can see - I can feel - the veins in my arms bulging, straining against my skin in a way that no human vessel should be capable of doing. Then comes the sensation of agonising pressure, of veins surely rupturing. Are they pumping me full of liquid xenonite? Mercury? This time, the pain doesn’t stop, and neither does my screaming. What will kill me first? Carbon dioxide toxicity? Internal haemorrhage? Heavy metal poisoning? 

God, I can’t- 

‘Stop stop stop! Rocky please make them stop!!’ 

I scream and heave and sob.

I can’t breathe. 

The skin around my wrists and ankles tears clean off my muscles and bones as I pull on them to escape, writhing on the table. But there’s no way- no way out. The xenonite is unforgiving.

I can’t help but think how, in Rocky’s vision, I must be simply disintegrating. A disgusting pile of goop, leaking from every pore. Blood, torn flesh, tears, and sweat. 

This is it. This is how it ends. 

But I don’t regret it. Rocky is safe. Rocky made it home. And all the innocent Eridians will get to live. I was too cowardly to choose to sacrifice myself to Earth, but at least I could choose this. 

Having ran out of the strength to scream, I can only whine and sob against the merciless pain. It's blinding, nauseating, and sharp. God, God- is this punishment for my shameful life on Earth?

There's static in my ears and my skin is going numb. It doesn't quench the fire beneath it, though. I'm burning alive, I must be-

Please-

Something spills past my lips. It could be spit, it could be blood, it could be vomit or my own guts.

If only I could die faster.

‘Ro-cky-’ I croak, and maybe I'm delirious, but I think I see him move. 

The xenonite above me strains, creaks. 

He’s- he's going to open it. He's going to open my box-

How merciful. The pressure will kill me instantly, and then it will be over.

I can't help but smile, even if it quivers around the edges because of the pain. That's right - that's Rocky. Of course he would do that for me. I hope he doesn't get in trouble for killing the alien sample.

In those last moments, I think of lava and artificial waves.

It hits my face. The pressure? The hot air slamming into me?

No.

It hits once, stops, then again. Repeated tapping of something solid. 

Air. Not scalding hot. 

I jolt upright, xenonite no longer restraining me. 

I scream, scream, and scream.

‘Grace!’ 

Ah-

‘Grace Grace Grace!’

Raw and shaking and drenched in sweat, but strangely in one piece, I turn to the flailing shape in the corner of my vision. It's- 

It's Rocky.

Rocky.

He's not silent, just like he was moments ago. His frantic thrills and chirps in wildly differing octaves drown out the echo of my own yelling, still ringing in my ears. 

My chest moves, heaves, but no air gets into my lungs. 

I can only stare at him, confused.

Didn't he just-

Didn't they-

The xenonite, the coffin, the needles-

The pain.

‘Grace breathe! Grace must breathe!!’

Why…

Something eventually clicks. Oxygen slams into me and I cough on it, until my sputtering turns to pathetic cries again, making me curl up into a ball on my bunk bed. I want to disappear. I want to disappear. 

It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. 

Oh God. I'm pathetic. 

I don't really respect you. 

‘Grace sick? Grace hurt? Question? Tell Rocky, please. Tell Rocky, statement. Command. Request. Rocky fix. Rocky fix, please.’

Rocky’s concern only makes me feel worse. I know he's so terrified of being alone, especially on an alien ship. Especially after what happened to his own ship and crew.

‘I- I'm okay, Rocky. I'm not hurt. I just- I need to just calm down, that's all. I'm okay.’

I can feel the heat radiating from the xenonite as he hovers in his suit by my head. I can just feel him fidgeting. ‘Grace had bad sleep image, question?’ he asks quietly.

I've tried to explain that concept to him before. ‘Mhm,’ I mumble, pressing my face into my pillow, desperate for some comfort. ‘I had a bad dream. A nightmare. A terrible nightmare. But I'll be okay. I'm not hurt.’

‘What Grace hear in nightmare, question?’

No.

‘I… not now, okay? I'll tell you- later. In a little bit. I just need to- to calm down first, okay?’ The thought of putting that in words right now makes me want to pass out. ‘I just need to- breathe.’

‘Yes. Grace breathe breathe breathe. Breathe breathe breathe slow deep calm. Rocky here. Will not- will not let Grace die.’ 

‘Whoa, hey, hey,’ I shift, tilting more towards him and reaching out a hand to pet one of his arms. I must have been really tossing and turning and crying, and it must have really freaked him out. Though I can’t blame him - I would be just as worried if he suddenly started making nonsensical sounds and movements. ‘Humans don’t die from nightmares, remember? Promise. I’ll be okay.’ 

His warbles are so quiet and disjointed. ‘Apology. Rocky did not watch Grace sleep well enough. Rocky fault. Apology. Apology.’ 

It’s been a strange discovery to me that Eridians are just as capable of trauma-induced paranoia and illogical thinking as humans. ‘It’s not your fault, Rocky. You can’t stop my nightmares. You can’t protect me from what’s in my head. But you helped me wake up, you know? I’m groooohhh, my God-’

The touch, the sweet wave of bliss disappears as quickly as it appeared. Rocky freezes. 

‘This touch hurt Grace, question?’ 

Oh. Oh, he was petting me. Three warm, xenonite-smooth claws against my cheek and other three in my hair, so very gentle. It was only a brief touch, but it felt like pressing on a drool button in my brain. ‘Nnoo, not hurt,’ I slur my words a little. ‘It’s really good. Can you, uh. Can you keep doing that for a while, please?’

‘Yes. Rocky do. Rocky do for long time, until Grace feel better.’

How lucky am I to have this little ancient alien creature, fussing like this over such an insignificant, brief, human life? It makes my heart clench and skip a few beats. 

Eventually, it calms. Slowly, under Rocky’s gentle and warm claws. It stops trying to escape my chest, and breathing becomes easier. There's still an undercurrent of anxiety, like the aching of muscles after strenuous exercise, that doesn't let me drift off and fall asleep, but it's close enough. Pleasant static fills my brain and everything seems to gradually settle in place up there, dust settling after all the frantic panicking.

I don't even want to move. I'm exhausted, and yet it feels soothing and calm. Safe with Rocky there. Despite the everything that awaits me on his home planet.

I press my gross, leaky face closer into his claws. I'm so lucky to have him. I'm so lucky he accepts me.

But… that might be the extent of my luck.

It's only fair. I think I've bled it dry, managing to escape death on a suicide mission for so long.

Still. It doesn't make it easier to deal with.

‘I’m- scared.’

‘What Grace scared of, question?’

I swallow. ‘Erid.’

The gentle petting stops. ‘What mean, question? Why?’ 

How can I explain it without hurting his feelings?

I must be taking too long to come up with an answer, because Rocky follows up with a different approach. ‘Grace see Erid in his nightmare, question?’

‘Kind of. Yeah.’

‘Tell Rocky.’

This is probably a conversation that should be had face-to-face (at least face-to-carapace) but I struggle to come up with words as it is, so I stay curled up for now. ‘It was… dark. Um. I was locked in this small xenonite box, and- it hurt so bad. There were scientists, I think. And they were, God, they were running some experiments. O-on me. They were killing- they were killing me. I had tubes in me, and they were injecting something into me. It hurt so bad, Rocky, it was- it was torture.’ 

Skipping the part about Rocky being the one to - mercifully - kill me in that dream (I think that would upset him), I feel my nails digging into my own palms as I clench my fists at the memory, made alive with the echo of phantom pain. I do my best to breathe through it, to not let it overwhelm me again.

Above me, Rocky makes small, quiet, nonsensical noises. Something perhaps like a human whimpering, or the vocal equivalent of shivering. 

‘Awful dream. Bad bad bad bad bad bad bad. Why… why Grace brain make so scary stupid dream image, question?’

It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility though, is it?

‘Well… it's not that insane, right? I'm sure your scientists will want to do some experiments, right? They'll want to study an alien, for sure. And I'm down for that, but. I just hope it won't be that scary and painful.’

Rocky is silent for a long while.

‘Grace,’ he eventually starts, the tones of his voice ringing hollow. ‘If Rocky. If Rocky go to Earth, what would happen, question? What would happen to Rocky?’

The question makes me nauseous. 

It's something that I've contemplated extensively before. A miserable and completely unnecessary thought experiment. Rocky will never see Earth - and it's for the best.

I swallow down the bile, hoping Rocky can't hear it crawl up my throat. ‘They’d hurt you. That's almost certain. They would- they would want to run experiments on you. Figure out what you're made of. How your body works. How you react to different stimuli. And then- and then they'd kill you. That's most likely what would happen.’ I shut my eyes, caving under the shame. How can I ask anything of Rocky, of Erid, if my own kind would make him wish for death if our situations were reversed?

‘And… Grace, question?’

‘I’m sorry. I'm just one person, I wouldn't be able to protect you. They would probably put me in prison or mental asylum, that would be the only way to stop me from trying to get to you and free you. They'd probably tell the public that I went insane after so long in space and that I was now a danger to society. I’m sorry. Humans are… awful. As you've probably gathered. I'm sorry, Rocky. I'm sorry.’

‘Understand.’

There's an unmistakable sadness in his voice. I feel sick at being the cause of it. 

A long stretch of silence fills the space between us, and for once, I don't feel comfortable in it.

‘So… Grace scared that Erid treat Grace same way as Earth treat Rocky if Rocky go to Earth.’

His words punch the air out of my lungs.

‘Understand correct, question?’

‘I… yeah. I guess you're right. It makes sense though, doesn't it? Scientists gotta be the same everywhere,’ I laugh, trying to make light of it all, but it's a pitiful attempt.

It's a slow and sluggish conversation, like walking through mud - Rocky seems to take a longer time to collect his thoughts, as if he needs more time to process everything.

‘Rocky not understand Grace. Or Earth. Erid scientists will want do science, yes. But how can do painful science on Grace, question? How can Erid do science on Grace if Grace not want?’

I highly doubt that Eridians - as a highly intelligent species - are foreign to the concept of selfish pursuit of goals, even if it means forcing someone to do something. Or killing someone. ‘Well… it's not like I can say no. If I go to Erid, I'm completely at your mercy, you know? Your scientists can always make me.’

‘Make Grace?’

‘Like- force me. Do it against my will. Do it even if I don't want it.’

He pauses again before stomping once. ‘No understand no understand. Why treat Grace this way. Question! Grace save Rocky! Grace save everyone! Erid people everyone plural always grateful!! We protect Grace, not hurt Grace!’ 

It always comes back to this. He always brings it up, as if it’s an argument to end them all; as if it explains everything and justifies everything. As if it’s the sole reason for everlasting gratitude. I sigh. Gratitude is such a fleeting thing, and graces (ha!) that are bestowed on its foundations are sure to crumble with time. People forget the dire situation they were in; the danger they’ve been saved from diminishes in their memory with time. I sigh. ‘Buddy, I know, but- it doesn’t mean that everyone will be… I don’t know, grateful. Forever. And that they’ll want to keep me forever. Rocky, I know you’re my friend. And I know you’ll want what’s best for me, but you won’t be able to keep me alive all by yourself. And really- I don’t think you can even imagine how hard it would be; how much of a burden it would be to keep me alive.’ 

‘But Grace is family. Statement.’ 

This time, it’s me who falls silent. For a moment, I think my heart stops beating, too, as does my breathing. 

Everything stops.

You have no immediate family. You don’t even have a dog.

‘Grace?’

Sluggish, with an effort as if my body has turned to lead, I push myself up on my bed to finally look at Rocky. The massive, prickly word sits on my tongue, and it’s terrifying to speak it. ‘Family?’ 

Rocky is very still. I can practically feel him trying to perceive me, analyse me. ‘Yes? Grace protect Erid family, so Erid family protect Grace. Grace surprise, question? Or Grace not want to be part of Rocky family?’ 

If I weren’t having a downright out-of-body-experience with barely any control of my body, I would have laughed. How could I not want to be a part of his family? 

A family. 

I can feel tears trickle down my cheeks, my chin, without any resistance or hesitation. It comes as natural as breathing - as inevitable as heartbeat. It seems that they might just never stop.

Rocky doesn’t comment on my leakiness. He lets me get my voice back.

‘You… you don’t even know- you don’t even know how much I’d like that.’

My voice cracks only a little. 

‘Good good good,’ he says gently. ‘Grace already family.’

I want to. I want to believe and lose myself in the fantasy of community, of belonging, of being- accepted. Maybe even- maybe even…

Loved.

But I can’t let go of reality just yet. Nothing changes the fact that it’s just Rocky saying these things. My brief euphoria fades, my mind settling back down to something more rational. 

‘Thank you, Rocky. I… That means everything. But still, I’ll be such a burden, I-’

‘Nooooo,’ he whines and stomps in frustration. ‘Grace keep say burden burden burden. Wrong wrong wrong. Why say that, question! Why Grace think Grace burden! Question!’ 

His frustration is almost endearing. As if he’s fighting my battles for me - against my own self. 

‘Rocky, you… you can’t deny that it would be. I mean- you want to build me a whole place to- to exist, and you know how challenging that will be, considering everything about your natural habitat will try to kill me. The temperature, the atmosphere, the gases in your air. The human body is so stupidly fragile, it would be such a challenge to build - that’s one thing - but then you’d have to maintain it! A whole atmosphere! Humans need oxygen, but what about everything else? We produce carbon dioxide as a result of just existing. If you don’t pump it out, eventually it will build up and kill me. It’s a constant gas exchange. Temperature? There’s a very small range, relatively speaking, where humans can exist comfortably. One thing goes wrong and I’d die pretty quickly. You’d quite literally need a whole- like a whole big team to just maintain my home. A leak, a break in my- my box? Something malfunctions? Someone would need to deal with it immediately. You’d need someone on the clock constantly, can you even imagine?!’ 

Rocky tilts his carapace while my own voice still echoes in the room. I hadn’t realised I raised it. 

‘Grace done, question?’ 

This guy. ‘What- no! That’s only the beginning! All this is just to make sure I don’t spontaneously die in your atmosphere. But then there’s stuff like- like food? I highly doubt there’s anything on Erid that I could eat. Even if you can synthesise anything non-poisonous for me, it’s not just about the calorie intake. The human body needs an unnecessarily complicated and diverse range of macro and micronutrients, vitamins and minerals to function properly. I’m pretty sure the coma slurry doesn’t have enough of that on board here for your scientists to take and replicate. And then- and then when I inevitably do get sick - it’s not a question of if but when, Rocky, humans get sick all the time - then… What, then? How will you fix me if I break a bone? How will you fix me if my body decides to destroy itself; I get an autoimmune disease, or cancer, or my arteries block?’

‘Grace.’

I pause, realising how worked up I got. 

‘Sorry.’

‘Is okay. Grace panic. Rocky understand Grace worry.’ 

For a moment, neither of us says anything. I start to feel a bit stupid, freaking out like this. Well, I am objectively being stupid right now, running high on emotions of all kinds. 

‘Grace must trust Erid science more. Erid build big ship and go space and breed many many many astrophage. Erid have much science engineering smart people. We build home for Grace. Comfortable and spacious and pretty. Grace help, Grace say what Grace need and want and like. Work together. Earth thinking machine help us make medicine for Grace. Upgrade Armando. Armando then help fix Grace if Grace sick. We use thinking machine to help synthesise nutrient plural. Must be possible. All matter same molecule, different configuration. Many many many people work work work make Grace healthy and happy. We succeed, statement.’ 

God.

The weight of his words makes me want to crawl into some hole and not come out, ever. It’s all too much.

‘Not good, question?’ 

‘N-no, it’s- it’s good. It’s good. It’s too good. It makes me feel… look, I’m really happy and grateful that you would do all of this for me, but- it seems pointless, for so many people, so many of you to work so, so hard to just keep one human alive, you know?’ 

Burden. It makes me feel like a burden. Yes, I did contribute to saving their planet, but it doesn’t mean that now they have to bow down to me for the rest of my life, does it? 

Rocky clicks his claws, as if deep in thought, processing my words. ‘Grace mind go in circles. Grace forget already? Rocky say Grace is family. Family not burden. Best friend not burden. Rocky want want want do this for Grace. Erid want, too. Because Erid grateful. Erid happy to make saviour Grace happy.’ 

I won’t cry, I won’t. Surely I’ve ran out for today. 

‘Grace very stubborn, not want accept this, statement. Rocky confused. Grace not want go to Erid. Statement, question? Grace scared of something else. Statement, question?’ 

Yeah. Yeah, I’m scared - I’m a coward, after all. I’ve gone through that argument so many times in my head already, and always arrive at the same conclusion. Even if I talk myself out of all the anxieties about surviving and not starving to death, I can never talk myself out of the looming certainty of existential dread. 

Is that something I can explain to him? 

‘You know,’ I start, not really sure how to move this forward. ‘Humans are, well, pack animals. We’ve evolved to build communities where everyone plays a part. Humans are not meant to be- to be alone and useless. All throughout human history, being alone meant death. With modern technology on Earth now though, we’re more disconnected and isolated than ever and it creates all kinds of problems for us. Like, mental problems. Problems in our brains. We… we don’t function right, then. We don’t think right. A human would not survive over 40 years alone in space like you did.’

He shifts, uncertain. ‘Understand. But no understand how this relevant to Grace. Grace not alone in space. Grace not alone on Erid.’ 

I laugh a little, nervous, and the sound has no mirth in it. ‘Of course. I’m not alone now, but… But what happens then? You will go back to your life. I want you to go back to your normal life. To Adrian, to your family, to your job, to everything you left behind when you got on that ship.’ 

‘Okay?’

I can hear his confusion. It’s almost funny. Does he really not get what I’m hinting at? Do I really have to say it? This is so embarrassing. Do I have to be this clingy? Do humans really have to be this heckin’ clingy? 

‘This means… we won’t get to spend as much time together. But it’s normal, it’s good. You need to get back to your life. You need to- to move on. But I… I’m sorry, Rock. I’ll- miss you. Spending so much time with you. Just- fffudge-’ I grit my teeth, barely holding back a curse. ‘I don’t want to be telling you these things because I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything. I don’t want to hold you back, you know? But I know, I know, I’ll just get… lonely. And will probably grow insufferable and gradually just insane- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but maybe you should know now, so that you understand…’

The silence is so heavy and seemingly infinite. Well. It’s out there now, isn’t it? 

Those next years to Erid are going to be awkward, considering Rocky’s perfect memory. Unless we maybe just move past it somehow. 

Rocky alternates between being deathly still and fidgeting with his claws. 

‘How long since last food, question?’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘Is valid enquiry! Grace brain need glucose to function, clearly no glucose now!’

That's just so not the time for this right now. I don't need my best friend slandering me when I'm pouring my heart out!

‘I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Rock-’

‘Rocky serious, too! Rocky no apologise, because Grace so unreasonable! Unreasonable, statement statement!’ He stomps every few words, clearly worked up. ‘Grace think only Grace care, question? Rocky would die for Grace! Grace not understand Rocky love love love Grace, question!? Really think Rocky will leave Grace, question! Grace really think Rocky can live without Grace, question?! Rocky never leave Grace alone, statement. Grace not lonely, ever. Grace meet many Erid people plural and make new friend plural but Rocky always there.’ 

The very walls seem to vibrate with his voice. I feel the vibrations in my own bones, too. My heart as well, no matter how cheesy it sounds. 

Rocky won't leave me. I'll… actually have a chance to meet and even interact and - goodness gracious - befriend other Eridians? I won't be kept in a separate glass bubble, isolated from all other living creatures?

But my brain keeps snagging on the big word.

Love. 

Logically, based on all facts, it shouldn't surprise me. What is it called when your friend risks their life to save you, if not ‘love’? Is there, actually, a love greater than that?

But the earthly weight to this word still leaves me reeling. 

My voice is no more than a whisper. ‘You love me, Rocky?’

He's quiet and still again, the way he gets before cursing me and my human stupidity to high heavens. I brace myself for another earful. 

It doesn't come, though. The soft warbling of his voice is gentle and patient. ‘Yes. Rocky love very much. Grace know this. Rocky love forever. Grace family and best friend forever.’

My eyes sting and ache with the weight of another wave of held-back tears. ‘Okay,’ I nod, more to myself than anything, looking down at my hands. ‘Okay.’ Unable to look up at him again, I only take a firm hold of his closest arm and squeeze. ‘I love you too, Rocky. I'm… thank you.’

‘No need thank. Grace lead happy life on Erid. Many friend many interesting thing plural and many science.’

Oh?

‘What?’

‘What?’

‘What do you mean, interesting things, and…?’

‘So Grace not bored! Grace scientist, Grace not want do science, question?’

Yet again I'm struggling to catch up and my heart starts to pound, leaving me breathless. Is he saying that I'll be able to actually do something in that biodome he keeps talking about? I'll be able to do something exciting and useful? ‘But- how? How can I do science on Erid?’

‘What mean, Grace? We bring lab equipment from Mary. And we can build more equipment for Grace, using thinking machine knowledge! Grace and Erid share knowledge and work together, together smartest science in all universe!’ He waves his arms around excitedly. ‘Grace know many thing plural that Erid don't. Grace can teach Erid scientist and young Erid children too. Make smartest Erid generation ever!’

The world turns slightly on its axis, as if Mary is accelerating. Did Rocky just say I could teach?

‘I could… really do that?’

‘Grace hearing bad bad bad today, need confirm everything! Yes!! Grace teach if Grace want teach! Grace want teach, question?’

My mind is reeling. Rather rapidly, the conversation shifted from a question of mere survival, to the idea of making a genuine life for myself there on Erid. A life that could be filled with friends and with work I enjoy.

‘I’d… like that. I’d really like that, Rocky.’

‘Is settled, then.’

I can't help but bark out a laugh. Just like that. Like it's so easy.  

‘You’re unbelievable, Rocky. Every problem I throw at you, you just. Come up with a solution, just like that.’

He tilts his carapace. ‘Is what Rocky do. Rocky engineer, so Rocky fix.’

We’re quiet, processing the whole exchange, and the silence is once again confortable. I feel myself turning to mush from the inside out, overflowing with fondness and warmth and gratitude, and I just know I'm going to blurt out something stupid. I should just keep my mouth shut, but the words keep bubbling up in my throat, the need to give voice to these feelings becoming impossible to ignore.

‘Hey, Rocky,’ I start, fiddling with the edge of my quilt, looking away. I don't want to say it - I'm so damn embarrassed - but at the same time I need to. ‘I just. Wanted you to know, that, uhm. I really appreciate everything and. Yeah. But even without all this, even if I couldn't survive on Erid, well-’ 

Okay, this is embarrassing. Breathe, Ryland. 

‘I just want to say that I’m really happy that I met you. That… That it was you. Despite the statistical chances of us meeting being practically nonexistent, I’m- I’m glad that we did, and it doesn’t even matter that I can’t go back to Earth, because- What I’m trying to say is that I never could have predicted that my life would turn out this way. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. If I could turn back time to change things, well. I wouldn’t.’ 

Well. That’s out now, I suppose.

Rocky fidgets, but strangely. The vents atop his carapace move almost imperceptibly, his claws clenching and unclenching slowly. He makes quiet, barely audible noises that I can’t recognise as any specific words. 

Ah, now I’ve done it.

‘S-sorry. Look at me, just making things awkward…’

But I trail off, instead watching as he reaches out an arm towards mine - slowly, sluggishly - and wraps his claws around my palm. I wrap my fingers around them, skin pressing against the many smooth panes of the flexible xenonite suit. 

Oh. We’re- holding hands. That… feels so nice. That’s really good. Then perhaps it’s safe to assume he’s alright with all that emotional vomit I just subjected him to? A smile is starting to split my face in half and I just can’t stop it. 

‘Grace.’ 

Rocky finally starts making noises that are comprehensible to me, but just about. His voice feels off, slow and quiet and strangely pitched. He tilts his carapace, leaning against my arm that he’s holding. Another one of his arms wraps around my back. He’s hugging me. 

My heart always does a little silly jump when he initiates a hug. I can’t believe I got a little rock alien dependent on physical affection. Lucky me!

‘Thank you for tell Rocky. Rocky also happy meet Grace. More than can say. More than happy happy happy. Grace and Rocky… already live many difficult time. Suffer alone many time. But now we go home. Grace and Rocky home. And we have happy happy happy life.’ 

Well. That’s- 

That’s so much to take in. And since we’re both (both!) already being sappy, I reach over with my other arm and hug him back, squeezing the rigid suit as much as I can, even if Rocky himself can’t feel that. 

Hope blooms in my heart, and for once, it’s not terrifying. 

A vision of a brighter future plays out before me. 

For the first time, I’m in it, too.