Chapter Text
“Ghost dog running down the rocky edges
To the churned up under of the ocean bed
No, I’m not running and I never have been
To the true blue bottom where the light ends
It’s day I think, but we might be underwater
In a sea creature’s dream, in a dreaming drink
No, there’s no time for the end over end
And everything to do before dying again
Long view into the blue”
“Ocean Bed”, Darlingside
1,335 days until Erid docking
Grace
“I … name… Grace.”
“I. I. I. I. I. Name. Name. Name. Name. Grace. Grace. Grace. I name. I name. I name. I name Grace.”
Rocky scuttles up the tunnel from the dormitory. “Grace?”
I pause, but don't lift my fingers from the laptop keyboard. “Yeah, buddy?”
“Grace practice language Eridian to speak with Eridian other person when arrive Erid.”
“Yeah, that's the idea.”
He taps two fists together. “Grace say this way not can.”
“Not can?”
“Not can.”
“But…” I search the database. I call up the audio file and play it back. “This is exactly the phrase you used when I was recording you for the translation program.” I press “play” one more time. “ ‘I name Rocky.’ I'm playing exactly what you said, just substituting my name for yours. How can it be wrong?”
“Grace not say ‘I name Grace’. Grace should say ♩♪♫♩ name Grace,” he says evasively.
“Okay. Let me record that.” He obligingly repeats the phrase, and I tag the file for the translator database.
“Grace also practice ‘Thank you’,” he adds, before I say anything else. “Grace say ‘thank you’ to Eridian not can. Grace must say ♪♬♩♫♫♪.”
I sigh. “Okay, repeat that.” He does, and I tag the recording. “So what's this about? Are those the wrong words for ‘I’ and ‘thank you’? You use that exact phrase for ‘thank you’ – at least, when you're in a mood to be polite, which I admit is rare –”
He makes a sharp trill that I've come to interpret as exasperation.
“Well?”
He's silent a moment. I don't push him.
“Eridian language have way different,” he finally says. “Speak to person different, use way different. Rocky speak to Grace, use one way. Grace speak to Eridian when arrive, must use way different.”
“Okay. Like, different vocabulary? Different style?”
“Yes. Words different, also note different add to verb.”
“Aha.” I'd noticed before that all verbs had the same bottom note. “I'm going to call this… modes. The language has different modes when speaking to different people. So, how many different modes are there? And what are they for?”
He wiggles his carapace. “In language of Rocky, have eight. Grace not have to learn all. Have mode for speak to parent, speak to child, speak to mate. Grace not have parent Eridian, child Eridian, mate Eridian; not have to learn. Grace only must learn mode of speak to person respect polite but not family.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” I type that down in my “culture notes” document. “So that's not the mode you've been using with me, though.”
“No.”
“What mode are you using?”
I can see him hesitate. “...For friend.”
I grin. “Thanks, buddy.”
“Grace is friend. Grace language have mode, question?”
“Nah, not really. I mean, there's no formal, like, marker on the verbal or anything that indicates that, in my language. But I definitely talk to you like I talk to a friend. A close friend. Not a respected non-family person.”
I see him relax a bit. “Yes. Grace Rocky talk as friends. But when arrive Erid, Grace be more polite.”
“Yeah, that'd be best. So what's the note that goes on the verb for the polite mode?”
Later, after Rocky goes back to his Python project on his laptop, I pull up the first recordings I made, back when we had just met – even before he moved onto the Hail Mary. I have a suspicion.
I listen to those early recordings. The first sentences I ever heard him say. And I hear the bottom note of the verb chords. It's not the “respected nonfamily” marker note. It's the “friend” marker note. Even back then. Every single time.
–
726 days until Erid docking
Grace
“♪ Hey, Rocky? ♪” I whistle.
“Yes?”
“You eat animals that live on the surface of ♪ Erid, right, question? ♪ So what does your prey eat, ♪ question? ♪ You don’t have plants on the surface of ♪ Erid ♪ that can photosynthesize, because no light reaches the surface.”
I have so many questions about Erid. Geology, biology, meteorology, ecology, sociology, culture, politics, you name it. And Rocky loves to talk about it! I think he relishes being the expert. You ask him something, and he goes straight into lecture mode. Eridians can sense their planet’s magnetic field. When Eridians are hungry, they know exactly which nutrients their body needs, a lot more specifically and accurately than vague human cravings. They have a “sonic scream” that they can use to render their prey helpless before they even grab it. Yeah, yeah, I get it. Eridians are cooler than humans.
And I’ve started whistling Eridian words. I’ve always liked to whistle. I mean, obviously it doesn’t really work. I can’t whistle Eridian words; they’re chords. I only whistle the top notes. And there are so many different Eridian chords that have the same top note – it’s like trying to speak English using only the vowels. It wouldn’t make sense most of the time. But I don’t need to make sense to most people. I only whistle the words and phrases I know best in Eridian. It helps me practice, helps me remember the vocabulary. And Rocky knows what I mean. We’ve been on this ship with each other a very long time.
I usually don't call him “Rocky” anymore; I whistle the top notes of his name. He used to grumble about me being off-key, but he’s stopped complaining about it. I think he likes it.
“Correct. Not plants on surface,” he says. I hold up a finger, and he waits patiently for me to pull up the translator on my laptop. I’m really trying to practice my Eridian listening; I want to be able to tell what people are saying without the translator repeating it. So I keep it turned off until Rocky says a word I haven’t memorized yet. However, it usually doesn’t take long. My memorized vocabulary is still pretty pathetic.
“♪ Okay, ♪ say that last word ♪ again. ♪”
“Surface,” he repeats. “Not plants on surface. No light, no photosynthesis. Have thing that grows. Not move, have roots. Microbes that photosynthesize in atmosphere upper fall to ground, animal flying fall to ground when dead. Many thing dead fall to ground. Thing that grows on surface of Erid eat thing dead.”
“It lives off decomposing organic matter, but it doesn’t photosynthesize … ♪ Maybe like ♪ Earth mushroom. Fungi.”
“Yes. Eridian not eat, prey animal eat.” He launches into an explanation of how Eridian nomadic herders promote the growth of the fungi by helping to spread the spores as they travel the land, so that when they return there will be good pasturage for their animals. It’s fascinating stuff. You can’t stop him once he gets going, and I’m always eager for more.
It takes a while to get through Eridian fungi – Rocky’s got a lot to say, and I've got a lot of follow-up questions. We’re both loving this. And by the time we get to the end, I’ve thought of something else. “♪ Hey, I ♪ wanted to ask. ♪ Everyone on Erid ♪ speak the same language you speak, ♪ question? ♪”
“Yes.”
“Oh. So ♪ Erid ♪ only has one language, ♪ question? ♪”
“No. Have many many many. Have 20,261.”
“Whoa. ♪ Amaze. ♪ But ♪ all Eridians ♪ speak this language, ♪ question?♪ That you’re speaking right now, ♪ question? ♪”
“Is language for each person understand each other can. But not is language home of each person, each clan. Erid have many many clans, many many languages. All all all Eridians learn language this, speak can with all all Eridians on planet. But is not language home for most Eridians.”
“Ahhh. It’s a lingua franca. You’re teaching me the ♪ Eridian ♪ lingua franca. I’m gonna call it… ELF. Elf. Um… I’m gonna call it Elvish.” Yes, it’s dumb, but who’s gonna stop me? I gotta call it something. “So Elvish isn't ♪ Rocky ♪ home language, ♪ question? ♪”
“Is. Have two. Two parent. Parent one language home Elvish, speak Elvish with Rocky. Parent two speak language home different, speak language different with Rocky.”
“I gotcha. So you're bilingual.”
“Word means, question?”
“♪ Rocky ♪ can speak two languages.”
“Rocky have two language home,” he corrects. “Rocky speak 461 language can. Learn later, not is language home.”
“What?!” My eyes bug out. “That many?! ♪ Question?! ♪”
He shrugs. “Not many. Most Eridian speak can this many. More or less. Learn in school. Rocky engineer, not language study Eridian. Language study Eridian speak thousands can.”
…Wow. Must be nice to have a memory like that. “♪ Amaze amaze amaze. ♪”
“Grace speak language Earth can how many, question?”
Aw, man. I knew he was gonna ask that. “Um. Not that many. Only about two hundred.”
He considers for a moment. Then he leans forward. “Grace speak two hundred language not can. Grace study Elvish time long long long. Learn Elvish difficult difficult difficult. Slow slow sloooooow. Rocky not believe Grace speak two hundred language can. Grace bad bad bad at lie. Trick Rocky not can.”
Darnit. “Okay. Maybe I exaggerated a little.”
“How many, question? True now.”
“Just the one,” I mutter. Rocky can't see me blush, but I'm sure he can hear it in my voice anyway.
“One, question? One language, question? One?!” He's laughing at me, shaking from side to side. “Memory human so bad bad bad–”
“Well, can YOU shoot venom from your eyes?”
He freezes. “What Grace say. Question.”
“♪ Yeah, ♪” I whistle, grinning. “Tears aren't the only fluid we can secrete from our eyes. Didn't know that, did you? When threatened, humans can shoot poisonous acid from their eyeballs, up to fifty feet. It’s reeeaaallly gross, trust me. ♪ Eridians ♪ might be immune to the venom, because you’re made of rock and everything, but you never know, do you? So next time you want to make fun of humans… just keep that in mind. And be glad you’re behind the ♪ xenonite ♪ barrier.”
He scoots waaay back against the back wall of the tunnel. My grin grows wider.
“So what about ♪ Adrian, question? ♪” I ask. “Does ♪ Adrian ♪ have the same home languages as ♪ Rocky, question? ♪”
He perks up immediately. “Adrian, yes. Adrian parent both language same. Same as language parent Rocky, not Elvish, language parent other. Language of clan Adrian. Language clan Adrian very famous…”
And we're off again. Once Rocky gets talking about Adrian, there's no stopping him. I just smile, and settle in to listen.
Adrian’s a marine biologist. Or a marine vet? Adrian’s clan herds fish, or whales – I don’t know exactly what to call them, but they live in the Eridian ocean, and they’re about three times the size of me, and they’re delicious. The clan – I gotta make up a name for them, so I’m just going to call them Clan Korval – follows them in boats as they migrate. The fish are domesticated, and they can be trained to follow commands. Most Eridian clans live on the land and herd land animals, but Clan Korval has always been mariners. Adrian used to work with them on the ocean, but now they have a lab on land where they do research on the fish.
Adrian was the meticulous one, the careful one. Adrian’s really strong; they can carry twice the weight that Rocky can. Everyone used to call Adrian “Mountain” when they were young, and when they’re on land, Adrian loves to go mountain climbing just for the challenge. Adrian’s an amazing climber. Adrian’s favorite radio show is “Beneath the Volcano”; it’s fantasy, and it’s been going for about a hundred Earth years, and yeah, seasons 40 through 154 were pretty stupid, but they hired new writers and they’ve been going in some new and exciting directions lately. Oh no, Rocky doesn’t really listen to it, but Adrian talks about it all the time. Adrian’s into that kind of stuff. Rocky just bubbles over; he’s got so much to say.
At least… most of the time. When he’s happy, he can't stop telling me about Adrian, about Erid, about his home.
“Rocky tell Grace about Adrian capsize boat, question?”
“♪ Yeah, ♪ buddy. You've told me that one. Several times.”
But some days… he just doesn’t want to talk about it. He won’t talk about Erid, and he definitely won’t talk about Adrian. I ask him, “♪ Hey Rocky, ♪ tell me about the ♪ cluster ♪ where you lived with ♪ Adrian, ♪” and he just clams up.
He’s been away from home a very long time. And he’s never exactly told me he’s homesick. He’s never exactly talked about how much it hurts him to be apart from Adrian for so long. When he’s happy, everything is Erid, Adrian, Erid, Adrian. And when he’s not… he closes in on himself. When that happens, I don’t push. I give him space.
These days, when he sings to Adrian once an Eridian year, he doesn't wait until I’m asleep. I’ll be working in the lab, and suddenly I’ll hear his voice from the dormitory. “Adrian… Adrian…”
I don’t come down. I just listen. His voice quavers a little. Soft. Uncertain.
I miss Earth too, sometimes. But I try not to think about it. Sometimes it’s too much. But I know it’s different for me. For one thing, I’m… well, for me, it was a clean break. There’s a very sharp, shining line cutting down the center of my life, dividing me into two halves – who I was on Earth, and who I am now. And Earth Ryland – that’s not me anymore. I think I never really appreciated Earth while I was living there. I was too busy, or too selfish. But I’m not gonna make that mistake again. I’m not taking anything for granted. Every day is a gift, now – and getting to see an actual, genuine alien planet before I die? It’s all I ever wanted.
Do you know I’ve been dreaming about aliens since I was three? My whole life it’s been Star Trek, Star Wars, Babylon 5, Doctor Who, Arrival, Men in Black, Arthur C. Clarke, Stargate, “The Goldilocks Zone is For Idiots”. You should see my terrible, eternally half-finished scifi novel. Well, that was saved to my computer that got left behind on Earth. (Thank God. I don’t need any actual aliens reading it; I’d probably die of embarrassment.) And I get to be the first human to visit Erid! Ever!
There’s so much I want to do and see. So many questions I want to ask. So much to discover for the first time. Oh, if they’ll only let me see, if they’ll only let me explore and learn and ask all my questions and experiment, I’ll be in heaven for the rest of my life, however short that may be. Even if I never eat a burger again.
But Rocky… what if Adrian really did find a new mate? On the days when he won’t talk to me, I know he’s thinking it. And there’s no way for me to help. There’s nothing I can say.
–
527 days until Erid docking
Grace
“♪ All right. ♪” I lean back in my chair. “Taumoeba trials have been going fantastically well so far. ♪ Good good good ♪ results. I've been steadily increasing my intake for months. No adverse reactions. Nothing showing up on my blood tests. ♪ I think ♪ we gotta get a little more aggressive with this.”
“Aggressive, question? Aggressive how, question?”
“If Taumoeba’s a good source of calories for me, and if it’s safe, we gotta really lean into it. We gotta drop my daily slurry intake percentage. Drop it like a rock. Get it, ♪ Rocky? ♪ Rocky? We’re gonna drop it way down.”
“Drop way down?” He sounds alarmed. “Why, question? Why drop?”
“We gotta make it stretch,” I say. “And if the Taumoeba’s working, ♪ we can ♪. Now’s the time. I’m just dorking around the spaceship. It’s on autopilot. It’s okay if I’m a bit low energy for the time being. As soon as we get close to ♪ Erid ♪, we’ll crank the slurry percentage waaaaay back up, so I can be in top shape to pilot the Hail Mary in the last stretch and dock at the space elevator. But if we cut back ♪ now ♪, in the meantime, we’ll make the remaining slurry last longer after we land on ♪ Erid ♪. Give those scientists more time to figure something out for me. Here, I've got a whole schedule worked out, ♪ listen. ♪”
He hunkers down, his carapace low to the ground. “Rocky listen.”
“I'm up to 200 grams of Taumoeba a day, ♪ right now ♪. And I'm still taking 85% slurry rations. So once the 30 days at 200 grams are complete, if everything's still going smoothly, we drop to 75% slurry intake. Thirty days of that. Then we up it to 300 grams Taumoeba. Wait thirty days. Then 65% slurry. Every thirty days, we alternate, we either up the Taumoeba ration by 100 grams or drop the slurry by ten percent. We don’t change both at once, so if I start throwing up or feeling terrible all the time, we know which one to blame.” I rub my chin. “We’ll stop at… 30% slurry. We won’t go any lower than that. Just to be on the safe side. So, by day 1,298, I’ll be taking 700 grams of Taumoeba per day and 30% slurry rations. I’ll keep upping the Taumoeba dose after that – I guess I’ll keep upping it until I figure I’ve got all the calories I need.”
“Grace say Taumoeba not have nutrients Grace need to live. Grace say vitamins. Slurry have vitamins. If eat only Taumoeba, Grace not have vitamins. What happen if Grace not have vitamins, question?” His voice is a little bit quiet.
“♪ It’ll be fine. ♪” I wave my hand dismissively. “I bet most Americans don’t even get 30% of their recommended daily value of all the vitamins. Nutrition is fuzzy. Taumoeba’s basically junk food, nutritionally speaking, so I won’t do any worse than someone who eats potato chips and candy all day. It’s not great for me long-term, but whatever. As long as I’m getting some vitamins, at least a little, I probably won’t have any deficiency symptoms. I’ll be more tired, probably. Maybe a little less energy for dancing. More naps. That’s all.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“This is gonna be great. ♪ Excellent. ♪” I rub my hands. “I’ve got extra already because of all those meals I skipped back then, when I wasn’t doing so well. ♪ Before you sang my name to me. ♪ A And this will give me even more to work with. So if I follow this plan… by the time we’re within thirty days of docking at ♪ Erid ♪, I’ll have… 619.883333 days’ worth of slurry rations remaining. And that’s 619.883333 days if I eat 100% slurry every day! If I continue to eat less than that while I’m on ♪ Erid ♪, supplementing with Taumoeba, I’ll have enough for years. Earth years! And with the Taumoeba, I might even be eating enough to feel full at the end of the day! Give those ♪ Eridian ♪ chemists plenty of time to work out what I need. No rush. All the time in the world.”
I look up at him proudly. He doesn’t seem that impressed. “If Grace feel sick, Grace stop,” he warns. “Grace eat slurry more.”
“♪ Of course, Rocky. ♪” I do jazz hands. “I’ll be careful. Trust me.”