Chapter Text
It’s a dumb mistake and I know it.
For three years, we’ve been making our way fairly uneventfully to Erid. For three years, Rocky and I had a relatively good system going. But there’ve been minor setbacks, as I become progressively more malnourished. Lapses in judgment and all.
Like memory loss.
It isn’t anything too terrible. I just forget where I put things. A lot.
A lot.
You would think I’d remember where I put the instrument I use to communicate in Eridian, though, but after the chaos and excitement of spotting Erid in the distance, it might have… gotten misplaced. And then tossed around during that one incident that definitely shouldn’t have happened.
Rocky gets injured more easily than he says is normal. We both figure it’s likely due to leftover damage to his carapace after he entered my atmosphere. Every time he chips his carapace, I feel progressively guiltier. It hasn’t been much – it’s happened twice in three years. But unfortunately, the second time it happened was now.
Rocky says it’ll heal fine if he rests. He doesn’t want to sleep, though – we’re so close to Erid we’re almost in range of radio traffic. It’s got him excited. He tries to send a message to Erid. I figure it’ll get there just before they can send us a message in real time.
But we run out of time. Rocky’s crack on his carapace from an accident that was definitely my fault (despite Rocky brushing it off) is growing, and he’s getting a bit anxious about it.
“Just rest, buddy,” I tell him. “I’ll watch you sleep. Last time you only slept for like…”
I try to convert the numbers in my mind, to be smart and say how long it was in Eridian days, but my sluggish brain can’t do it anymore. I haven’t been able to for the last month (in Earth time) and it’s getting annoying. And, frankly, a little worrying.
But it’s just malnourishment. I know this. I anticipated it.
Anyway. Not the point. Rocky is still waiting for me to continue, and I sigh, finishing, “It was like four days. Tops. And that last crack was definitely bigger. I don’t want you getting any more hurt than you already are, Rock. Please, just get some rest.”
“Almost to Erid. Mate Adrian, all of Erid waiting. Rocky send message—”
My patience is thinner than it should be, and I know it. And I hate that. But I still interrupt him, saying a little too sharply, “If you don’t sleep now then you will miss the arrival and you’ll be even more injured! I—”
I stop myself from continuing the sentence, the sentiment, the pleading. Please, I can’t let you get hurt any more, I can’t watch you flinch when you try to move, this is my fault, please don’t leave me alone like this I can’t watch you in pain like this—
Rocky doesn’t speak for a moment, and I know he’s trying to stay patient with me. Despite his propensity to be quick to insult me in the past, his awareness of my own deteriorating condition has made him less snippy. The opposite of me, at this point.
I guess it balances out.
I want to apologize for snapping, to rephrase my concern, but Rocky rolls his xenonite ball away, speaking lowly enough that I almost can’t distinguish some of the notes. “Rocky will rest. Grace watch. Rocky not rest long. Rocky will be okay. Grace will be okay. Grace Rocky see Erid together.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow the lump. “Yeah, buddy. We’ll see it together. Just focus on getting better, okay?”
Rocky agrees. He settles down in a comfortable position and grows still. And I think everything will be all right.
Because I’m an idiot.
I’m an idiot. And I miscalculated when we’d arrive at Erid. Rocky trusted me to check the computers the day he fell asleep because it hurt too much to move around. So I did it for him. And I missed a figure.
Erid is in my window now, and I’m allowing myself a swear word or two. Or four. And maybe some tears. Because Erid is beautiful, breathtakingly so, and it gives me a moment of pause, but we weren’t supposed to see it until Rocky was awake. Instead, he just fell asleep. I scramble around the Hail Mary to try and find the instrument Rocky graciously made for me, but I can’t remember where it is.
This whole situation is a dumb mistake. This is not how first contact is supposed to go. Rocky should be the one speaking to his people, not me. I know a few Eridian words, thankfully, able to whistle or hum the bare minimum. I call it Survival Eridian. Rocky had chirped out laughter at that. He wouldn’t elaborate what was so funny, though.
Well, he can’t laugh or do anything right now. He’s been asleep for barely one Earth day. He could sleep for several more for all I know. But Erid is outside our window and it’s calling us.
Swallowing my anxiety and frustration, I listen as they send another message.
“Alien ship, respond. Engineer Rocky, is this vessel your ship that you spoke of? Alien ship, state nature of business with Erid.”
Okay. First contact. But not first because I’ve done this before with Rocky.
Well, okay, this is very different than my first interaction with an alien, but still. I can do this. This is like, what, fourth contact for me? I should be a pro.
Huh. Fourth contact. Wow.
Focus! I shake my head, and it makes me a little dizzy. The Hail Mary slows its trajectory to start orbiting Erid, and gravity disappears just as I manage to grab a chair desperately. I need to answer them and then I need to check on Rocky, because my stupid malnourished squishy human brain didn’t think to do anything remotely safety oriented about him being in zero G while asleep.
I take a steadying breath, and I respond in the best Eridian I can. “Hi!”
I draw a blank. Oh gosh. I can’t say hello because it’s too complex, hi seems far too simplified but it’s all I can do. And now I’m scrambling to come up with more.
Can I say ship?? I don’t remember??? “Rocky on box.”
Good Lord I want to melt into oblivion. I hit my head against the computer console.
I’m met with radio silence and I think, for a moment, that if Rocky wasn’t on this ship I’d just pitch it into the sun with me still on board. It's crazy how awkward I am in literally any social situation even with an alien species. But I can push through this, so I try to remember what words I can use. “No Rocky speak. Grace speak. Grace friend to Rocky. Rocky sleep. Grace watch. Rocky…”
Hurt. How do I say hurt?
“Best friend Rocky no okay,” I settle for. “Rocky…”
‘Here,’ I need to say ‘here’ but it requires a trill that I still struggle with. “Rocky heeeere. No speak. Grace speak.”
Good grief, this is awful. But if I stop I’ll never get my point across. So I continue, “Rocky Grace have fix to star. Rocky Grace have fix to star! Grace friend, Rocky sleep, Grace watch.”
I struggle to figure out what else to say, how to piece my limited vocabulary together with my slowly deteriorating neurons, when I finally get a static-filled reply.
“Grace is Rocky’s friend, yes? Rocky mention you. Grace Rocky have fix for star?”
Something has shifted in the Eridian’s form of speech. It’s like when Rocky is muttering to himself occasionally versus when he speaks to me. But even so, it’s slower and gentler than Rocky’s typical style.
My gosh. They’re dumbing their speech down for me.
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. But I’m also thankful for it. I can understand far more than I can speak, but I’m so addled right now I don’t trust myself anyway.
I nod, even though they can’t see that. “Yes, Grace Rocky fix star!”
“Good good good. Grace doing good. Rocky not okay?”
Okay, a little odd that they’re telling me I’m doing good, but I won’t question it. Honestly, it feels a little nice to get some encouragement. “Rocky no okay.” I wish desperately I can say not instead of no so I sound less stupid, but it requires an extra note hummed at the same time that I can’t replicate. “Rocky sleep. Grace watch. No bad bad bad but no good.”
“Understood. Erid have people ready to help Rocky. Rocky send message before now, say that Grace sick.”
That little—
“Grace okay! Rocky no okay!” I insist. Sure, I'm slowly starving to death but that's a slow problem, Rocky should be the focus right now.
There’s trills and notes I don’t recognize, and I hesitate awkwardly, staring at the computer, wondering if I should reply. Then the Eridian on the other end continues, “Rocky say Grace ship have bad air for Erid. Rocky say Grace need different air. Yes?”
Oh, thank goodness Rocky mentioned all that in his messages he’d sent. “Yeah, that’s, uh—Yes, yes, yes.”
My heart is racing and I’m starting to feel dizzy. I don’t know if the zero gravity is helping or hurting me at this point. My head is spinning either way.
“Can Grace pilot ship to space elevator and dock? Erid make calculations and get Rocky from there. Erid help Grace if Grace can bring ship to elevator.”
I recognize that the Eridian is struggling almost as much as me to dumb their language down. I almost laugh at the absurdity of everything, but my anxiety and dizziness are winning out. I cling desperately to the chair that’s anchoring me in zero G, and I say, “Yes, bring box, yes.”
Curse Eridian for making ship a word I can’t speak, and curse my brain for only remembering what it is now. It’s a beautiful and complex language, truly, and I’m usually more appreciative of it, but today it’s being a nightmare. I did say the word ‘ship’ once – I managed to trill and then whistle immediately after to make the word work. Rocky had been ecstatic. But I haven’t been able to do it since. Box is much easier to whistle.
The Eridian gives a trill, something akin to Rocky’s amaze amaze amaze, and the communication goes silent. I sigh, relieved and worried, and I move to go check on Rocky. He’s floating in his nesting area, and I wish desperately I could just go in there and make sure there isn’t anything he’s going to bump into while we’re floating like this. I know there will be some semblance of centrifugal force at the elevator, since Rocky said the space dock was the tether for the entire system, but I’m still imagining we’re all going to be stumbling around the place. This is going to be a mess. But as of right now, Rocky is safe and still resting.
I sigh. I can dock the ship. I just need a minute to watch him and make sure he’ll be fine.
I just… need a minute.