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Grace jerks awake, his heart pounding in his chest. The blankets tangle around his legs, trapping him. He fights to push them off, to get free, to run. He needs to run.
“Grace.”
Rocky. Grace stops wrestling with the sheets, and he feels the hammock-like bed sway gently beneath him. He notices for the first time the sounds around him: the hum of the water recovery system, the whir of the spin drives... He is on the Hail Mary. His breathing is ragged, as if he really has been running blindly across an empty expanse of sparse grass.
Grace opens his eyes and finds Rocky in his ball beside his bed. Usually, when Grace sleeps, Rocky keeps watch while tinkering in his workshop. He can “see” the entire ship no matter which room he is in, after all. Grace must have been thrashing around in his bed for a while for Rocky to already be at his side.
“Grace had bad dream again.” Grace hears no double-tap of claw on floor, the gesture that follows every question.
“Yeah. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Rocky rolls a little closer, pressing his ball up against the edge of Grace’s bed. Grace lays back down, and they sit in silence while Grace tries to steady his breathing. His skin feels clammy against his sweat-soaked jumpsuit.
“Is normal for humans to speak while dreaming, question?”
“Huh?”
“Grace speak while dreaming. Is normal, question?”
Grace forces himself to take a slow, deep breath. “Yeah, we call it sleep talking. It’s normal, but like most dreams, the words don’t always make sense.”
“Rocky not understand all words, but Grace sounded scared.”
Grace shifts his weight, causing the bed to sway again. He keeps his gaze on the low ceiling. “It’s nothing, Rock. I’m fine.”
Grace can hear Rocky shifting from side to side in his ball. It’s a subtle movement, but Grace recognizes it as a sign of mild anxiety, or perhaps indecision. After almost a year together, he has picked up a fair bit of Eridian body language.
“Need word. Grace say, ‘you can’t do this, you ♪♫ me’ while dreaming. What is word before ‘me’?”
Fudge. This is not a conversation Grace wants to have right now. Or ever.
He could lie. Maybe “you’re hurting me” is innocuous enough to avoid further questioning. No, that wouldn’t work; Rocky already knows the human word for “hurt.” Grace is too tired to come up with a better lie.
“Murder. It means to kill another person.”
Rocky stops shifting. “Oh. Eridian word for this is ♬♪♫.” He pauses. “Grace was murdered in dream, question?”
Grace covers his eyes with his forearm, blocking out the lights of the dormitory. “I told you, I’m fine. It’s just bad memories coming back. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Rocky jerks his carapace up, almost hitting the top of his ball. His voice rises an octave. “Grace has memories about Grace murder, question?”
Double fudge. Grace sits up. “No, no, I mean... I just meant... I...”
Rocky orients a particular side of his carapace toward Grace and pivots slightly, focusing his attention fully on Grace. It’s amazing how he can freeze Grace with a piercing stare, even though he doesn’t have eyes.
“Look, Rocky. I... didn’t want to be on this mission. I never signed up for this. I’m a teacher and a scientist, not an astronaut, and definitely not some... intrepid explorer.” He rubs his face with both hands.
“But the scientists who actually trained for this mission, the ones who volunteered, died. It was an accident, astrophage explosion, 3 days before launch. So... they asked me to go instead.”
Grace stares at the wall behind Rocky’s ball. “I didn’t want to do it, Rocky. I was... scared.”
“Understand. Rocky also scared before mission.”
Grace shakes his head. “Yeah, but you still volunteered. You chose to join the crew of the Blip-A, right? You were scared, but you were brave, too?”
“Yes. Right thing to do to save Erid. To save Adrian.”
A lump rises in his throat, making it almost impossible for Grace to speak. He lays back down and rolls to his side, turning his back to Rocky. He swallows, takes a deep breath, swallows again, silently cursing the wave of nausea that threatens to wash over him. “Well, I... wasn’t brave. They had to force me to go.” He holds his breath.
“Rocky not understand word.”
Grace blinks. “Which word?”
“‘Force.’ Force is physics concept, mass times acceleration. What mean, ‘force Grace to go,’ question?”
Grace blinks again. Has he really never used the word “force” (in the non-technical sense) before now? “It means... it means to make someone do something they don’t want to do.”
Rocky is quiet for a moment, tapping his claws together thoughtfully. “Eridians not have word for this.”
Grace sits up again, swinging his legs out of bed and fully facing Rocky for the first time. “Really?” He and Rocky almost always understand each other these days. Clearly something is getting lost in translation. He searches for the right words. “You don’t have a word for... coercing someone? Like, ‘do what I say or I will do something bad to you’?”
“No.” Rocky leans back slightly within his ball. “Why humans need word for this, question?”
Grace is still dimly aware of the nauseating pit in his stomach, but for the moment, the scientist part of his brain takes over. He still has so much to learn about Eridian culture, and this is an interesting bit of data. Can an entire society really have no concept of coercion?
“I guess, because... humans aren’t always great at working together. Especially when we disagree with each other. At our best, we talk, we listen to each other, we compromise. At our worst, well... remind me to show you a history book on the laptop and you’ll get the idea.”
Rocky continues tapping his claws together. “Understand, but... not understand. When Eridians disagree, we thrum. Then we agree.”
Grace tilts his head to one side. “‘Thrum’... That means ‘discussion,’ right? Or ‘meeting’?” Rocky had mentioned thrums once before, when he told Grace how the Eridians came up with a plan to save their sun from astrophage.
Rocky waves a claw in the air, clearly searching for words as well. “Thrum is... many Eridians joined together. All Eridians speak and listen to all other Eridians. Thrum is smarter than Eridians. Thrum decides.”
Grace can’t help but chuckle. “Wow. And just like that, you all agree? I’ve been to academic conferences where the smartest people in the world couldn’t agree on what to get for dinner.”
“Not understand. What mean...?”
“Never mind. I just mean that Eridians are good at resolving disagreements. Solving problems together.”
“Yes. Thrum decides.” There is a shift in Rocky’s cadence which Grace thinks adds emphasis to the words, as if they are an irrefutable statement of fact.
Grace scratches his head absentmindedly. “It’s not like that with humans. We always disagree with each other about something or other. Sometimes they are friendly disagreements, and we tease each other about them. Sometimes people stop being friends over disagreements. Sometimes whole groups of humans go to war and kill each other over disagreements.” Grace rubs his temple. “It’s, uh, one of the less flattering traits of our species.”
Rocky resumes his claw-tapping. “So... Grace and other humans thrum to choose new scientist for mission, but thrum not decide, question? Humans still disagree, question?”
“I guess so. They...” Grace turns away and looks at the wall beside his bed, running a hand through his hair. The pit in his stomach is back. He takes a few steadying breaths and closes his eyes.
“I said ‘no,’ Rocky. I knew what was at stake, I knew people would die, I knew I was the best person for the job, and I said ‘no’ anyway. It was a suicide mission, and I didn’t want to die. I was selfish, a coward. They had to drug me to get me on the ship. I tried to run away, I fought them, I...”
Grace’s throat closes. His fingers grip the edge of the bed so tightly that the corners cut painfully into his palms. Every muscle in his body tenses, bracing, waiting.
Eventually, Rocky breaks the silence. “‘Drug.’ Like painkillers that make Grace stupid, question?”
Grace clears his throat and looks down at his lap. “Different drugs. Drugs that make you sleep. Very strong drugs that make humans sleep so they can’t wake up. Doctors use them to...”
Rocky jerks his carapace up again, and this time he does hit the top of his ball. His voice is so high that Grace can barely hear the notes. “Humans ♫♬♪ Grace, question?”
Grace jumps and hits his own head on the low ceiling above his bed. “What?”
“Humans ♫♬♪ Grace, question?” The double-tap at the end is a pair of heavy stomps.
“I don’t know that word.”
“♫♬♪ is... means...” Rocky shifts from side to side, as if he is pacing within the ball. “Is bad bad bad thing. Worst thing. ♫♬♪ means to choose while watching.” He stops pacing and pivots toward Grace again. “Humans gave Grace drug to make him sleep, question? Put Grace on ship while sleeping, question?”
“Yeah, because I...”
Rocky lets out a cacophony of notes, dissonant and wordless. The ball is no longer big enough to contain his pacing, so he rolls around the room, bumping into the walls and furniture as he goes, muttering to himself. “Sleep... ♫♬♪... Grace... bad bad bad...”
“Umm, Rocky? I think I’m missing something here, bud. What do you mean, ‘choose while watching’?”
Rocky’s pacing doesn’t slow down, but he speaks louder and more slowly. There are high, dissonant notes layered beneath the words that Grace has never heard before. “Sleeping Eridian cannot move, cannot speak. Sleeping Eridian cannot make choice. ♫♬♪ means watching Eridian makes choice for sleeping Eridian, when sleeping Eridian cannot say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ cannot thrum. Bad bad bad. Must wait for sleeping Eridian to wake up and make choice. Never ♫♬♪...” Rocky’s words trail off into more muttering.
“Because they can’t consent...,” Grace mutters. Of course. When Eridians sleep, they are completely vulnerable. They are at the mercy of their companion, wholly unable to defend themselves should the watching Eridian decide to take advantage of them while they sleep. That’s why having a fellow Eridian watch you sleep is such an intimate act: it’s an expression of complete trust.
Apparently, thrumming somehow gives Eridians excellent conflict resolution skills, so coercion is not a driving force in their society; that’s why they have no word for it. (Oh, if only Eridians could teach humans how to thrum!) But you can’t thrum when you’re asleep. It must be taboo to “coerce” a fellow Eridian by making choices on their behalf while they sleep; you need to wait until they wake up and can choose for themselves, or thrum about the decision with you. And to make a choice on their behalf that actively hurts the sleeping Eridian? Unthinkable! It’s the ultimate betrayal of trust.
Grace stands up. “Rocky...”
Rocky doesn’t seem to hear him.
Grace steps in front of Rocky’s ball, bringing him up short. “Rocky, buddy...”
“HUMANS ♫♬♪ GRACE, STATEMENT!!!” The shriek is louder than any noise Grace has heard Rocky make before. The notes quaver in a way that Grace associates with anger, but the subtones convey deep grief. Rocky collapses, his arms splayed out at odd angles.
Grace bends down and wraps his arms around Rocky’s ball, squeezing tightly. “I know, buddy. I know.”
Grace doesn’t realize that he is crying until he sees the tears dripping down the xenonite panels. The ultimate betrayal. He begins to sob, gently shaking the xenonite ball. Rocky leans into Grace’s hug. The pressure of Rocky’s weight is comforting, and after a few minutes, Grace’s breathing slows down.
The next time he speaks, Rocky’s voice is quiet and an octave below normal. “Humans should not ♫♬♪ Grace. Bad bad bad. Thrum should decide.”
Grace takes a trembling breath, then sits up and rubs his eyes. “It doesn’t work like that for humans. Sometimes, disagreements just can’t be solved. Not before time runs out, anyway.”
Grace’s mind wanders to a grassy field in the Kazakhstani desert, hemmed in by barbed wire. For a moment, he feels the dirt under his fingernails as he claws at the scraggly grass, the weight of the soldiers on top of him, the prick of a needle. He feels the white-hot panic that erases all thought, except for the desperate drive to live. He sees Stratt’s face, hears her level voice as if from a great distance: “Just think of the kids, Grace.”
“I know why they did it, Rocky. I don’t like it, but I get it, I really do. It’s just...” He looks down at his friend, nestled against as much of Grace’s body as he can reach through the ball. “You’re going to be a hero on Erid. You chose this. It was a risk, a sacrifice, but you did it, and it worked. You saved Erid. But I...” Grace sighs, staring at a point far beyond the hull of the Hail Mary. “You can’t be a hero if you didn’t choose to be one.”
Rocky straightens up and pivots slightly, so that his attention is focused on Grace once more. “Rocky not choose to be hero. Thrum chose Rocky to go to Tau Ceti. Rocky helped design ship. Rocky knew ship better than anyone else, could fix anything that might break.”
“So, the Eridians decided you were the best person for the job?”
“Not Eridians. Thrum decided. Rocky part of thrum.” Rocky tucks his legs beneath his carapace, as if that settled the matter.
Grace raises an eyebrow. “And that’s it? Whatever the thrum decides, you do it? Even if you don’t want to?”
Rocky is silent for so long that Grace begins to wonder if he has fallen asleep. Finally, he says in a quiet voice, “Thrum is... one mind. One voice for all Eridians in thrum. Rocky cannot disagree with thrum. Would be like... Rocky arm disagree with other arm. Thrum holds many thoughts, many different thoughts and ideas and perspectives and feelings. Holds all together. Thrum is wiser than Eridians. Rocky... belongs to thrum. Rocky trusts thrum.”
Grace says nothing. He still doesn’t understand how thrumming works, but Rocky seems to think that being chosen for this mission by a thrum is worlds apart from being drugged and kidnapped. Grace will have to take his word for it.
“Humans not finish thrum. Humans ♫♬♪ Grace. That is why Grace is in space.”
Grace feels the pit in his stomach again. He rests his cheek on Rocky’s ball. “Yeah. I was a coward.”
Rocky is quiet for a while, but something about the way he holds his carapace tells Grace that he is thinking. “What if humans kept thrumming, question? What if other humans not ♫♬♪ Grace, and humans kept thrumming until thrum decided, question?”
Grace blinks, sits up, and looks at Rocky. “You mean like, what if we kept talking about it until we all agreed?” He turns to face the wall and sighs. “I dunno, Rock. I want to believe I would have done the right thing, eventually. I was just so scared, and there was no time to think. They gave me 3 hours to decide, and I just... panicked. I couldn’t be brave. I didn’t have it in me. I don’t know if I ever would have had it in me.”
“Only 3 hours, question?”
“Yeah. We were out of time.”
“That is very short thrum.”
They settle into a comfortable silence, the longest one yet. Grace closes his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, and even Rocky’s hard xenonite ball makes a nice pillow right now. Grace leans a little more into the comforting weight of his friend. Before he can fully drift off to sleep, Rocky’s voice calls him back to consciousness.
“Grace is brave to come back for Rocky.”
Grace doesn’t move or open his eyes. “That’s different. You’re my friend, my best friend. I couldn’t let you and all the other Eridians die.”
“Yes. And Grace would not let all humans die, either. If humans kept thrumming, thrum would choose Grace for mission.” There’s that shift in cadence again, implying complete certainty.
“Maybe.” If Rocky recognizes the skeptical tone in Grace’s voice, he ignores it.
“Rocky still angry that humans ♫♬♪ Grace.”
Grace lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Me, too, buddy. I don’t know if I can ever forgive her, even if she was right.”
Grace’s mind starts to wander again, but Rocky brings him back. “But Rocky also happy that Grace go on mission. Rocky happy to meet friend Grace.”
Grace smiles and wipes his eyes. “Me too, buddy. Me, too.”
“Grace sleep now. Rocky watch.”