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After Rocky fully moves into the Hail Mary and we reach a relative state of routine, I give an hours-long presentation on what the both of us can expect regarding my imminent decline into malnutrition.
It’s mostly for him, obviously – I don’t want him to be alarmed when I start bleeding from my gums or when my heart rhythm suddenly goes wacky – but it’s also for me. Doing all the research, compiling notes and crunching numbers and just letting all that information fester inside of me would make me more nervous than I already am about what’s to come. But coming at it from a scientific perspective and then teaching it to a captive audience of one helps in a weird way.
Scurvy was a given. Anemia, sure. Marasmus, hypocalcemia, beriberi. All possibilities. Others that I probably haven’t thought of.
I tell him about the physical symptoms, but also about the mental and behavioral symptoms. That I could become more easily distressed, quicker to irritation, lethargic, depressed, forgetful.
Rocky is deeply unhappy that there is nothing he can do to help fix the situation and obviously not thrilled about all the potentials. That’s the other half of the problem. So many coulds and maybes. The spectrum of possibilities on how much and how quickly I might deteriorate is wide ranging. But, I emphasize, knowledge is power. Better to know than not. We concoct scenarios. Equations. If Grace confused, give simplest explanation. If Grace hurting, then let sleep until it passes.
Sleep is probably going to be the only means of help I can get in a lot of these scenarios.
Another tricky issue is timing. I should have enough food to reach Erid. It’s the after that worries me. Staying alive in space just long enough to touch down on another planet and die there is probably the most depressing scenario I can think of. (Not entirely true, I could write a list of depressing scenarios longer than the chain we created to go fishing with around planet Adrian.)
Rocky, best pal in the universe that he is, is adamant that Eridian scientists are fully capable of not only creating a habitable environment for me, but also synthesizing essential vitamins and nutrients. And maybe, if I’m really lucky, food.
I can’t help the tendrils of doubt that creep in. I fully believe he believes they can do it. But coming back roughly 70 Earth years later with a solution to their own astrophage problem would and should take precedence over some random alien in tow that they’re now burdened to keep alive.
It circles my brain as the months trickle away, like an alarm in the distance, ignorable at first, but growing louder and flashing brighter the closer we get. Still, Rocky’s excitement is infectious, and I can’t help but grin when he tells me all about his mate, his siblings, and the small cluster where he grew up.
As the planet of Erid grows larger on our screens and viewport, I’m down to the last pile of rations that I’ve tried to stretch out as much as I can. Rocky sends out a probe that was meant to be launched from his own ship upon their return. It descends down to the surface of the planet, repurposed with concise information about the Taumoeba, about what happened to his crew, about the Hail Mary. And about me.
The hope is they can get a head start on building a liveable place for me and also synthesizing some of the more important nutrients. And quickly get over the surprise of, yes, aliens do exist, and one is currently on board with the mission’s head engineer.
Rocky receives some kind of acknowledgment from his probe, and before we know it, we have a docking procedure to their space elevator. A delegation from the surface will meet us and let us know the next steps.
I’m a bundle of nerves, equal parts excited and apprehensive. I desperately want to make a good first impression, not only for me, but you know, for Earth. I can't wait to see what other Eridians look like, what they’ll sound like. My curiosity is almost enough to make me momentarily forget about my looming crisis and this burden I will lay at their feet.
Almost.
I’m in my EVA suit as a precaution, the Hail Mary back to zero g as we dock. Rocky is nearly vibrating out of his carapace on the other side of the xenonite, waiting by the hatch where he built a temporary extension of his atmosphere so the delegation can safely enter the ship.
As the hatch swings open, I can’t help but think that this journey has only just begun.
*
“Listen,” I say, my heart starting to hammer in my chest. “I more than anyone understand being bound by strict timeframes. I get it. But I just can’t, okay? Not without – I need….” I peter off, knowing exactly how I sound.
Dr. Cox angles their carapace more towards me, no doubt hearing my stuttering heart. They say nothing, but I’ve been around Eridians long enough to know now that this one is not amused. If amused is something they ever are.
The good doctor is smaller than Rocky but has a still, imposing air about them. It’s weirdly intimidating, but since I’ve known them, they’ve never truly been unkind. I wonder if that will change now.
“Grace has everything needed to make trip. Any further delay may cause exponential deterioration,” Dr. Cox says evenly.
Yeah, pal, it’s my body. I get it.
“I know,” I say instead. “But this is kind of a big deal. We spent a long time together here. If I’m never going to come back up here again, I just. Want to say goodbye with him.”
Dr. Cox just stares. Or listens. Or whatever.
In between us, nervously shifting their carapace back and forth is the ball of energy I call Georgie, named after a little terrier some relative of mine had (still can’t remember who) that was smart as a whip but incapable of sitting still.
Georgie clacks their claws together, light gray carapace shot through with ribbons of deep blue, visible even in the current dim lighting of the Hail Mary.
“One-Who-Gives-Selflessly, elevator is safe,” Georgie squeaks. “Savior Rocky will meet us on surface.”
I sigh, long having given up on correcting them to use my actual name.
While I had been on the Hail Mary trying my best to stay alive, the entire breadth of the scientific community on Erid, it seemed, was working on my survival. Not true, of course, I knew there were many, including Rocky, who were putting the finishing touches on the spacecraft to launch the Taumoeba to their star. Incredibly important, unequivocally not something that should be interrupted.
But.
It had been nearly a week since I’d seen Rocky. A week since he’d watched me sleep. I had already been going a little stir crazy without him, but then my medical team informed me the transitional habitat in their science center was ready for me, and that we’d be headed down the elevator in two days.
Even after being stuck on the Hail Mary for an additional six weeks after we arrived, I was suddenly not sure how ready I was to make the descent down.
In theory, I was extraordinarily excited to step foot on a different planet, to see it (as much as I could see it), to study it, to personally thank the Eridians who were helping keep me alive. But now faced with an actual go-date, the thought of actually doing it, especially without Rocky, makes me lightheaded.
It’s possible that was also from not having actual food to eat in over a month.
I had saved one type of each food item, sending it down with the Eridian scientists to synthesize what they could from it, sadly watching them go as my stomach grumbled. It had been coma slurry only since then. My stomach hasn’t grumbled in a while, just becoming more concave as the days go by.
I feel weak. I’m tired all the time, but my sleep is restless and always feels insufficient. I bruise more easily. I get these weird pains in my chest that go as quickly as they come. It’s all being monitored closely, of course, but watching my body deteriorate in real time isn’t exactly helping with my mental state. Even though I knew this would happen, even though I had given explicit details of what could occur to Rocky, who then translated it and then tweaked his own translations multiple times during our journey, adding in his own editorialization, I’m sure, actually experiencing it is a lot.
The Eridians are already doing so much for me, but I need this. I need him here. The human psyche is very good at dialing in to what it perceives as comfort when things are difficult, even at the expense of the body housing it, and right now, I want my friend. So much so that it overrides my self-consciousness of not wanting to be more of a burden.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I know it’s an imposition, but. I need him here. Is Earth culture thing.” I throw that last bit out, which isn’t exactly true, but it’s not untrue either.
Dr. Cox’s vents ripple silently, and then he turns and heads towards the communication relay on their side of the xenonite.
I let out a breath.
Georgie is not the least bit bothered by this. “What is Earth culture thing, question? Humans always depart in clusters, question?”
“No, not always,” I answer. “But this is different because Rocky and I spent a lot of time here together. And a lot of stuff happened to us here. It’s… a sentimental thing.”
“New word!” Georgie chirps, doing what I can only describe as a happy shimmy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few weeks, it’s that Georgie’s excitement to learn anything and everything is rivaled only by, well, me, probably.
“Means driven by emotion instead of logic. Like, I know, scientifically, that every day I spend in zero g up here will have detrimental effects on my recovery. But emotionally, I can’t say goodbye yet because I need Rocky here with me to do it.”
It sounds so simple, saying it out loud. It betrays the miles-deep layers of complicated feelings I have about it all. I am housed in something human hands built, surrounded by familiarity. I experienced the worst events of my life here and also felt joy that changed me on a fundamental level. I don’t ever want to leave. I never want to step foot on this craft again.
“Understand,” says Georgie. “I go far, far from my cluster to learn medicine. Love medicine, but not want to leave cluster! Told school no. Sentimental. Siblings upset, made me go. Was difficult, but good! Now I help One-Who-Gives-Selflessly. Very very good!”
I smile. “Glad you’re here too, Georgie. Your help really means a lot.”
Georgie goes back to monitoring, and I unintentionally drift off, woken only by Dr. Cox’s clipped melody letting me know that Rocky would be here in about 48 hours.
My heart does a little jolt of anticipation at the news, which Georgie immediately clocks, but fortunately for the both of us, it settles down quickly.
While I wait for Rocky, I take the time to really mentally prepare myself to leave the Hail Mary. Maybe for good, though who knows what the future will bring. Most of my stuff and a lot of the onboard equipment is already packed up, but the ship itself, with its dings and scratches and equations I wrote on the wall on one occasion when I couldn’t find anything else to write on tells the history of the last nine years of my life (four of those in a coma, but it still counts). How alone I was, and then suddenly not. No one else in the universe has experienced what Rocky and I have been through. No one else could understand. A more cynical person would say that our shared trauma has kept us bonded, and, well, sure, yes, but it’s more than just that.
Gosh, I miss him. When did Dr. Cox say he’d be here again? I can’t remember – I’ve been so tired. I think it was soon.
The hours that slip by are interspersed with required feedings of coma slurry and medical checks. When I’m not sleeping restlessly, I pass through the lab, the cockpit, the dormitory, letting my fingers run along the walls as I float by, fingernails tapping on xenonite as I commit each space to memory.
I wake up after having dozed off again, and my immediate thought is: shouldn’t Rocky be here by now?
Followed immediately by: what if he’s not actually coming? What if they’re keeping me from him?
Who my brain thinks “they” are, I don’t know, but for the first time since arriving, I feel a stirring of unease. This entire ship with me in it is an alien artifact. What if they just want to keep me up here and study me? What if – what if there is no habitat?
My breathing grows ragged and I feel lightheaded, which extra sucks in zero gravity. I grip my quilt tight and squeeze my eyes shut.
Think. Think. Rocky said the Eridians would do everything they could to take care of me. They have a transitional habitat ready to go for me. Dr. Cox said Rocky would be here soon. I think. There’s no need to panic.
I mentally shake the cobwebs from my brain. I’m so tired.
Thankfully, less than an hour later, Georgie bounces my way, claws barely able to grapple on the handholds on their side of the xenonite.
“Savior Rocky here very soon!” they trill. “Then we go down to surface!”
Oh wow. Okay. This is it. Everything is about to change very soon, very quickly. But. Rocky will be with me. I can do this.
I hear the airlock cycle, and there, finally, he is.
“Hey, bud,” I breathe out in relief, and it feels as though every muscle in my body has finally untensed.
“Grace!” he floats over to the xenonite divider urgently, splaying a claw that I match against my own hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yeah, I’m okay. Better now that you’re here. I’m a little overdue for my trip down the surface, but I just – I couldn’t leave without you.”
He pauses, tapping at the xenonite lightly right in front of my body.
“Sure you are okay? Heart rate is… different. You ask for me.”
A flush of guilt goes through me at requesting his presence.
“Sorry. Yes. Yes, I’m okay. Yes, I asked. I was just having, um. Having some trouble leaving here by myself.”
“Not by yourself, but Dr. Cox and Georgie not as good company as Rocky, is true.” I can’t help the snort that slips out. Geez, this guy. “Am ready to make journey with you. Have seen habitat – is small but will help you start healing. Much better equipment than here.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say, trying to convince myself. I shake out my tingling fingers, trying to rid myself of my nerves.
Rocky stays quiet for a moment, then says in a lower tone, “Grace and Rocky accomplished much here together.”
“Yeah,” I say, my eyes stinging. “We did.”
I get in my EVA suit, much harder to do now with less muscle mass and more fatigue, even in zero g. I have to rest multiple times, but all three Eridians wait patiently for me.
And then it’s time to face one of the many things I’ve been dreading.
The space elevator is about the size of a two-car garage, larger than I was expecting, though I guess it makes sense for hauling up the equipment needed to build a space ship. I am to make myself comfortable in a clear xenonite box with my atmosphere that takes up about a quarter of the space. There’s a bed, a store of coma slurry, and enough room to walk around if I want. The Eridians have helpfully installed lights in their part of the elevator so I can see them and what I’m doing, but that’s about it. It’ll otherwise be a boring, two-day ride down to the surface. I hope.
My heart is pounding as I go through my hatch and step into the xenonite box. I try to breathe slowly through my nose, telling myself over and over that Rocky is here with me.
Like so many events that have happened on this ship that have come and gone, there is no fanfare, nothing to mark the occasion. I turn around to watch as the hatch closes, and with it, my time on the Hail Mary.
*
The trip is somehow both distressing and uneventful.
As with when I first experienced zero g, my inner ear knows we’re moving but my eyes can’t track the movement, which doesn’t feel great. To distract myself, I explain the vestibular system to my Eridian companions. Rocky has heard me talk before about how the human inner ear and balance works, but Georgie is enraptured, asking me question after question, particularly amazed that I not only have hair on the outside of my body, but inside too that help monitor the position of my head in relation to gravity and linear motion. Dr. Cox seems completely unmoved, but I can tell they’re listening.
I try to sleep but my brain keeps cycling through theoreticals and what-ifs. When I do fall asleep, more often than not I jerk awake after a few minutes or hours, completely disoriented at first, but then I spot Rocky and remember what’s going on.
Rocky notices, of course. Doesn’t help that I wake up more than a few times uncomfortable and cranky.
“How much longer?” I ask at some point, trying to tamp down some feeling bubbling up in my chest that’s either run-of-the-mill irritation or a panic attack.
The three Eridians pause, and then Dr. Cox says something I can’t understand.
“Few more hours,” Rocky pipes up. “Grace feeling okay?”
“Yes. I mean no, but nothing I can do about it,” I grouse. “Why?”
One of Rocky’s front claws twitches open and closed. “Already asked before within last hour, twice.”
I open my mouth to retort that I have not, I would have remembered, but I realize I can’t confidently say that. The stretch of time in my box is getting fuzzier as time has gone on. It’s all kind of blending together.
“Oh,” I say instead.
I try to suck down some of the coma slurry despite my stomach really not feeling it. I try to rest for the hundredth time. I try to remember that I’ve apparently already asked for status updates multiple times within a short span.
Finally, finally, we reach the surface.
The double gravity does not feel great. That I can feel immediately. I was able to slowly adjust as we got closer down to the surface, but now that we’re here and not moving, I can feel the pressure on what feels like every single joint. Just taking a full breath in is exhausting.
But then the elevator doors creak open, and I see… wow. Well, not much. As I figured, their world is just… darkness. The lights installed in the elevator illuminate a small radius just beyond my box. I see what looks like packed dirt, small, craggy rocks that are definitely not Eridians (I rubbed my eyes behind my glasses and squinted just to make sure), the end of some kind of mechanical arm, and a few other contraptions that I couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose of.
Rocky scuttles around my box to stand in front of me. “Grace okay?” he asks. “Ready for transport to science center?”
I throw him a thumbs up, my hand only slightly shaking. “Ready.”
And then somehow we’re moving. Or maybe just my box is moving. We quickly move out of the immediate range of the lights, plunging forward into the neverending darkness. I turn and lean against the xenonite behind me, some innate sense in me straining to keep the light in my sights, but even the soft, distant glow soon disappears.
My breathing is loud and ragged to my own ears. I force myself to sit on the bed, only slightly jostled by however we’re moving along. I hold up my own hand in front of my face, and I think I can see it, my eyes starting to adjust. I squint into the darkness again, and I swear I can see some kind of muted, colorful movement in the distance – Eridians with some kind of bioluminescence, maybe? Or my brain is just making up phosphenes in the dark.
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying not to let the open, crushing weight of nothing override my rational thinking.
“I’m on another planet,” I mutter shakily to myself. “I survived. Holy moly. You did it, Ryland.”
I kinda let myself zone out for a while after that.
The next thing I know, there’s light again. It’s the first thing my brain registers. The second is Dr. Cox, Georgie, and three other unknown Eridians looming over me in xenonite suites that conform to their carapaces, similar to a design Rocky was working on during our long journey.
I jerk in surprise, gasping out a breath. The three unknown Eridians immediately skitter backwards. Dr. Cox doesn’t move an inch, and Georgie makes jazz hands.
“One-Who-Gives-Selflessly is awake! We are in science center. Welcome welcome welcome!”
“Cannot believe it wakes on its own,” I hear one of the Eridians say.
“Its rhythms are much different than what the portable machine recommends,” says another.
Georgie stomps a foot on the ground and makes a noise of consternation, vibrating where they stand. “His name is One-Who-Gives-Selflessly!”
“No, no,” I say, my brain finally coming back online. “Call me ‘Grace,’ please. Grace is fine.”
There’s a pause as my voice is translated on a nearby laptop into Eridian thanks to the handy software Rocky and I had worked on during our journey. And then an even longer pause after that.
“It understands us,” says one of the three in a tone of what I think is either awe or confusion.
“We bring down medical robot for extensive testing here,” Dr. Cox intones. “Should be here and ready in 331,153.92 seconds.” And then he just stares at me, waiting for me to comprehend. “Four human days,” he finally adds when I say nothing.
“Gee, thanks,” I grit out. Not like I’m super malnourished and disoriented from being on an alien planet or anything.
“Should stay resting until then,” they say, either completely oblivious to or ignoring my irritation.
I look around, finally taking in my surroundings. And in doing so, I see a big missing component.
“Wait,” I say. “Where’s Rocky?”
“Savior Rocky here while you sleep to watch but needed for astrophage thrum. Says many apology apology apology,” says Georgie.
I don’t know why, but I feel an irrational amount of distress at him not being here. Like earlier on the Hail Mary, but worse. Time was truly of the essence for the Eridians to get the Taumoeba to their star. I know this. Rocky and I talked about this at length while on our journey, brainstorming the best way to get it to their star without the use of the Hail Mary and the Blip-A, finally coming up with the logistics of an unmanned (un-Eridianed?) spacecraft to house and diffuse the predator. Rocky created the schematics, but we had to wait until we reached Erid for it to be built, as he didn’t have all the components onboard. I roll the rationality of this in my head to try and calm myself, but the gravity feels like a crushing weight on my chest.
I curl in on myself on the bed and put my arms around my head to block everything out.
“Time for Grace to eat,” says Dr. Cox somewhere behind me.
I count to six before answering. “Has anyone told you you have impeccable bedside manor?” I say into my elbow. “Later, please. I’d like to be alone for a bit.” That’s actually the last thing I want, but I don’t want to make more of a bad first impression than I already am.
I can hear the three other Eridians murmuring to each other in soft trills, and I can pick up a few words here and there, talking about me. I try to shut them out.
It continues much in the same way over the next few days.
Sleep is hard to come by, I get bullied into eating, Dr. Cox, Georgie, and the three other medical Eridians, who I name Grant, Sattler, and Malcolm, run various tests on me with what equipment they do have that is human-compatible, and I try as best I can to put on a brave face, but I slowly come to the realization that what I want, desperately, is to simply be alone on the Hail Mary again with Rocky.
The intermediary habitat within their science center is large enough for me to walk about thirty paces in any direction. There’s a bed, a cold storage for the dwindling supply of coma slurry, a commode (privacy has become a long distant dream), and a table with one of the Hail Mary’s laptops and various other medical equipment. They have affixed lights to the ceiling, but I have to remind them to turn them off every twelve hours or so to assist with my circadian rhythm, which plunges everything around me into complete darkness. But of course instead of sleeping, I mostly just lie awake listening to various Eridians scuttle around, unsettling in the inky black; somewhere within the hazy border of consciousness and dreaming, I see dog-sized spiders descending upon me from impossibly high redwood trees, the starless night stifling and fraught.
The same day that Armando is to be brought in, I wake up with shooting pains down my legs. I’m no stranger to cramps at this point, so I groan as I sit myself up and stretch out my legs to stand. It takes considerable effort, so much so that I feel my forehead become damp with sweat.
Once I’m finally up, I move to take a step forward and immediately collapse on the ground.
I hear Eridian cries of alarm around me in surround sound, but I’m too busy being completely befuddled as to what the heck just happened.
Sattler makes it into the habitat first with their xenonite suit on and immediately puts a claw on my knee to stop me from trying to get up again.
“Savior Grace, please wait,” they say, tapping the ground rapidly next to me, their best way to check for injuries until Armando is able to do it.
“Uh huh,” is the only thing I can say in response as more Eridians make their way in.
They do more tapping and confer with each other. I blink at the brightness of the lights above me.
“Anything hurt, question?” asks Grant.
“Legs,” I respond, clumsily patting at my thigh. “Sharp pains when I woke up. And then weak. Hard to stand on.”
“Any other hurt from fall, question?”
I take a moment to catalog the rest of my body. “No,” I finally say. “Just the initial pain in my legs.”
They deem me okay enough to stand up, but it requires the help of Grant and Malcolm, both of them using incredibly delicate pressure from their claws to grab my forearms and assist in pushing me upright.
“Thank you,” I tell them, sweat trickling down my neck. “Ugh. Thanks. So sorry. You should have seen me in non-astronaut days. Was a champion stander. Could stand for hours. You wouldn’t even believe.”
Georgie is orbiting around me worriedly. “One-Who-Gives-Selflessly should return to sleep? Heart rhythms off off off.” Their first statement is not appended with a question despite their tone, which during my time with Rocky I interpreted to mean a polite but very firm suggestion.
And yeah, I can feel my heart palpitating nearly every other beat, with occasional bouts of arrhythmia making me lightheaded and nauseous. My hands tingle uncomfortably. I want so badly to simply conk out for eight to ten hours, but I seem lately to only manage about four hours at a time. I rub my dry, gritty eyes.
And – Rocky’s not here. Where the heck could he be? Wouldn’t he be watching me sleep?
I stumble back towards the bed, falling on it more than a controlled sit. “Rocky’s coming back, right?” I ask, suddenly unsure.
“Yes,” says Sattler patiently, checking the readings on their medical equipment.
I ponder their tone. “Have I asked that before?”
“Yes,” says Sattler again.
I sigh, rubbing my forehead. Once Armando was here to do bloodwork, I had a feeling there was going to be a lot of red flags.
And I was right. Once the medical robot was positioned into the habitat and hooked up to the software on the laptop, they drained eight vials of blood out of me with more to come when I didn’t feel so woozy.
“Vampires,” I mutter to myself. I did enjoy picturing the Eridian medical team using the centrifuge and automated analyzer though.
Armando is very unhappy with the results. Just about every nutritional deficiency is in the red. But at least it gives them a framework of what is most urgent. I think someone mentioned that Eridian biochemists had already cracked iron and iodine supplements, which would be incorporated into my slurry soon. So that was something.
I sleep. Maybe. I think.
And when I regain full consciousness, Rocky is there.
“Rocky,” I breathe out with a smile, my quilt still tucked under my chin. “Hi, pal. I’ve missed you.”
“Grace, missed missed missed you,” says Rocky, shuffling closer on the bed next to me.
“How are things going with the thrum?”
“Getting close. Working on timing of spacecraft release when it is in Threeworld orbit. Had many problems with releasing too late. Taumoeba weight for longer time makes trajectory different. Astronautics team testing Rocky’s updated schematics now.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s great. Can I help with anything, question?”
“No, you help by resting more.”
“Hey, I’ve been resting.”
“No. Dr. Cox says you are not properly sleeping.”
“Dr. Cox is a snitch,” I grumble.
“Dr. Cox is better human doctor than you are liar.”
I flop my head back on my pillow dramatically. “I can’t believe I come all this way to another planet just to get bullied by aliens.”
“Aliens know what is best for you,” he trills smugly. “Related, also have news about larger dome. First phase is almost complete! Biodome Eridians still working but Grace can move in soon.”
My heart lifts a little at the news. “That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see it. Just – I hope you guys aren’t overallocating your resources. I can stay here a bit longer if it means figuring out the Taumoeba craft quicker.”
“Grace stupid. Many many many Eridians lend help for alien savior of Erid. Many resources.”
“Geez, okay,” I say, my face heating up. “Thanks, Rock. I mean it. I know you have a lot going on right now.”
“Happy to have a lot going on. Can finally finally fix.” He curls a gentle claw over the burn on my forearm.
Unfortunately he can’t stay long – results of the trajectory test come in, and he needs to make a few additional tweaks. Once he leaves, Dr. Cox lets me know it’s coma slurry time, despite the fact that I’m not hungry in the slightest. It’s honestly a little weird that I can’t even remember the last time I was hungry, but I try not to let that bother me. It just is what it is at this point. It takes a while, but I get it down. I then get up and walk around for a bit, ignoring the shooting pains that still occasionally race down my legs and how weak I feel. Once I’ve completed a full circuit of my enclosure, I’m back in bed, feeling like I could sleep for a week.
Georgie comes in to program Armando for another blood draw. I get myself situated while they supervise.
“Everything good on your end, Georgie?” I mumble, eyes drifting closed despite the blood being carried out of me into another couple of vials.
“Good good good,” they reply. “We work on isolating ♬♩♫♬♪ now. Much deficiency.”
“Mmhmm.” I don’t catch what it is, but it sounds important, so I’ll leave it to them.
Just as I’m about to drift off, a thought hits me.
“Hey – I thought Rocky was supposed to come by today? Is he still able to? I want to be awake when he is.”
Faintly, I see Georgie go completely still and make a small noise of alarm.
I’m out before I can ask why.
*
It’s moving day. Again.
I have been trying my best to remain optimistic, but I can no longer delude myself into thinking things are going well.
Pins and needles in my hands and feet have turned into full-on numbness in some areas. My legs ache. I am weak and tired. My gums have finally started bleeding. My arms display a colorful wave of bruises where blood has been taken. I have only a few days of coma slurry left. And. There are gaps in my memory. I’m not sure if it’s good or bad that I am able to sometimes remember this.
I can also recognize the fact that I have become more withdrawn and irritable, but it’s as if I can’t physically stop myself from acting on those emotions instead of dealing with them in a rational manner.
I sit in the corner of my habitat, knees drawn up and face pressed against the xenonite, away from the commotion. They’re letting me be for now, but I can tell every Eridian is focused on me regardless as they pack up Armando and other medical detritus.
“Want Rocky here,” I mutter stubbornly against the translucent surface. They know this. I know they know this. I don’t understand why they’re keeping me from him. There’s a physical agony in my chest. I miss him so much.
I decide I need to tell Dr. Cox, immediately. I spot them on the other side of the habitat, their striped brown carapace reminding me of tiger’s eye, and shift to stand up.
Dr. Cox spots me too. Stops what he’s doing and steps closer to my direction.
“Grace use cane,” they say.
What? What the heck are they –
Oh, well – there is a cane next to me leaning against the xenonite wall. But I don’t need that. Why the heck would I need a cane?
I ignore him and fully stand, taking a step forward.
Dr. Cox somehow moves quicker than I can track and leans against me just as I begin to topple forward. They reach out and grab the cane with one claw and gently but firmly trap my wrist in another, then push the cane into my palm. “Grace. Use. Cane.”
I scowl down at them. “I can walk just fine on my own, thanks.”
“No. Unbalanced and weak from malnutrition. Do not want to hurt self from falling again.”
“What? When did I fall?” I sputter. “I haven’t fallen. I think I’d remember that.” Is that true? I don’t know. I feel so disconnected from everything. There’s a buzzing under my skin that I can’t seem to ignore. I rub the knuckles of my free hand across my scalp and down my face, hard.
“Where is Rocky, question?”
“Rocky coming soon.”
“You keep saying that, but he’s never here,” I snap. I feel myself spiraling, pulled away from the shoreline by a tide I cannot fight. “You’re keeping me from him. I don’t – I want –”
And then I look up to see one of the Eridians, gray shot through with dark blue, scooping up my quilt, one of the few precious things in my possession tying me to Earth, to do – something to it, I’m sure.
“Don’t touch that,” I snarl out, voice raised. The Eridian jumps about a foot in the air and skitters backwards, dropping the quilt in fear. “It’s mine. You think you can just take that too, like you took Rocky away from me. I won’t let you! I won’t – I – ”
My chest is heaving and black spots appear on the edge of my vision. I stumble to a knee, Dr. Cox’s claw still circling my wrist, and as I gasp for air, I see every single Eridian in the habitat stock still, their carapaces turned towards me.
Oh God. Something is wrong. Something is really, really wrong.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble out before my head softly hits the floor.
*
I wake up – somewhere else.
There’s an IV in my hand and a cannula under my nose.
Hospital?
I blink bleary eyes and take in my surroundings.
Looks too cozy for a hospital. Someone’s house, maybe?
What happened? Did someone finally hit me while I was biking to work?
A series of soft musical notes play in the air to the left of me. Not a song I’ve heard before – too abstract to even be a song – but the notes somehow sound familiar. Like being thrust back into a specific moment in time, a deluge of words, thoughts, events, and emotions packed neatly into a few simple chords that sounds like home.
My name. Somehow I know that’s what those notes mean.
It takes an incredible amount of effort to turn my head to the left to see where the music is coming from, but I finally do.
There’s a. Big rock. Sandy dirt brown with spots of teal. With some kind of mosaic glass around it. Standing on five legs. Staring at me expectantly.
“Hi,” I croak out. Obviously. I don’t want to be rude.
The rock twitches, standing up straighter, and more musical notes pour out of it.
I smile. “Pretty,” I say.
It seems frustrated at this. Honestly don’t know how I can tell, but I just do. It whistles and then makes what sounds like a gurgling noise, pacing around my bed.
“Sorry,” I say. Sorry for what, I don’t know. Sorry I can’t understand. Sorry it’s frustrated. Sorry I’m a poor representative of humanity.
That last one seems a little overly dramatic, but I roll with it.
“Think, um,” I try to swallow, my mouth dry, “think my brain is a little fuzzy. Do you know where I am?”
Musical notes again. Reminds me of mockingbirds. So many unique sounds.
“Sorry,” I say again. “Is – can you communicate in English? Or – or know someone who can?”
The rock completely freezes in place.
And then it pipes out a few frantic notes – my name, I recognize again – and leaves.
I go limp against the pillow, my eyes barely able to stay open, feeling oddly unsettled.
I hope it figures out whatever is wrong.
*
I wake.
I’m somewhere I don’t recognize. Not the ship. Not the intermediary habitat. It looks like a bedroom. Like I’m back on Earth.
I’m not. End of statement. So that must mean –
Oh. The official biodome. Wow.
There’s giant, floor-to-ceiling windows to the left of me. I can’t make out what’s beyond, but there’s light. A wardrobe along the opposite side of the room. A desk with a laptop and knick-knacks and books.
There is one problem, which is that the walls are breathing.
I stare unblinkingly at the textured wall in front of me, watching it ripple and bow inward, then outward in slow motion waves.
That doesn’t seem right. I’ll have to let the Eridians know.
I feel so weak that I can’t do much more than stare, mesmerized as the structure around me rolls in and out, almost reminding me of the breathing techniques I learned back when the workload for my masters degree gave me weekly panic attacks.
The light changes incrementally. The rippling slows.
A shadow materializes in the corner.
I can’t pinpoint the shape. It seems to grow and shrink in equal measures, the boundaries of its form indistinct. In between the milliseconds of time when I blink, it moves.
I look away, suddenly feeling cornered and claustrophobic.
But I can still see it move in my periphery, never staying still, coming closer. My breath hitches –
“Grace?”
Whoa. That’s something I haven’t heard in a long time.
“Grace awake? Grace here, question?”
The text-to-speech voice that Rocky and I used on the ship to communicate before we solved the astrophage crisis, before I picked up more and more of his language until I had fairly advanced listening fluency, echoes in the room.
“Ungh,” I say. My mouth is so dry it’s almost painful and the lingering nausea means I’ve probably been on some pretty good drugs.
“Rocky,” I try again. “Hey. Any water?”
Armando hands me a liter bag, and I try to take small sips instead of downing it all at once. I lean back on my pillow when half the bag is empty, breathing hard.
“What’s with the – ” I gesture to the laptop on the desk. “Voice?”
His vents twitch up and down. “Grace can understand, question?” asks the voice, overlaid with him speaking his own language. Now that I can understand Eridian, it’s wild to hear the simplified English on top of the full, layered harmonies that I can automatically translate in my head. It sounds weird and discordant.
“Yeah. I hear ya’ loud and clear, buddy.”
He strides to the laptop and closes it.
“You know who I am?” he asks in Eridian only.
A twinge of unease curdles my gut. “Yes…? Rocky, is everything okay?”
He clambers up onto my bed next to me. I worry for a moment that it won’t be able to sustain his weight, but then I remember where I am and that whoever built the biodome probably accounted for Eridian biology.
“Grace sick,” he quavers.
It’s one thing to feel the effects of your body breaking down and getting worse with each passing day. You can internalize it. Deal with it yourself. It’s another to hear it acknowledged out loud.
I nod. “Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “But we talked about this though, right? All the things that might go wrong. How it might get bad for a while before it gets better?”
“Don’t want,” he warbles so low I can barely hear it. He moves closer, xenonite touching my leg.
“I know, pal.” I rest my palm on top of him. “You wanna talk through it?”
He fidgets silently for a moment. “Bloodwork says thiamine and vitamins D, C, and B12 dangerously low,” he says. “Scientists working on those first. First three easier. Should have those synthesized soon. B12 much harder, very complex. Had to give you pain medication. Sorry sorry sorry. Did not want to drug. But you were in much pain.”
It’s disturbing to not even remember being in so much pain that the good stuff was warranted. Though now that he mentions it, I do feel some residual aches. Also being drugged without my full consent makes me want to hyperventilate myself into unconsciousness, though I do have a vague recollection of essentially making Rocky my healthcare power of attorney at some point. I don’t think I even had one of those on Earth.
“Okay,” I say, taking it all in. “That’s okay. You did the right thing. What else?”
“Coma slurry gone. Must start eating Taumoeba. Scientists also working on different ways for eating.”
I sigh. That’s a rough one. Not that the coma slurry was much better, but at least it wasn’t just straight up goop. But so far the Eridians have somehow, amazingly, been successful in taking care of me. I have burgeoning faith in them figuring that out too.
“Can’t wait for Taumoeba pancakes,” I joke weakly. “It’ll get figured out. You guys have been incredible so far. Exceeded my expectations. Five stars all around.”
“Said Erid would take care of you,” he says, taking on the fond tone he uses when I’m being particularly dumb.
We chat for a while longer – I’m anxious to know the status of the spacecraft, which Rocky informs me is full steam ahead for launch from the space elevator within a few weeks, all non-trivial issues corrected. Having some kind of good news does wonders in lifting my spirits, but not much for my own exhaustion, unfortunately.
My eyes slip closed at some point without realizing it.
When I open them again, the shadow is back.
This time, I can’t seem to look at it directly. Every time I try, it slips further into my periphery, looming. Waiting.
A noise builds in my chest. In warning, in defense, in denial – I don’t know.
An Eridian scurries in then, hearing me. It taps the floor lightly, assessing. I don’t know them. Or – maybe I do, and I’ve forgotten. I’m so frustrated. I’m so tired.
“Friend Grace,” they say, their tone soft and musical. “Rocky back soon. Must rest.”
I stare at them, unable to produce any words. Their notes hit my eardrums but stop short of my brain. The shadow writhes in the margin of my vision, close enough to the Eridian that my breathing picks up.
I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away.
Once I hear them leave and stay gone for a handful of minutes, I sit up and move to stand.
It’s slow going. I’m dizzy and my limbs feel barely coordinated, both weak and numb, but I manage.
I look to the window. There is a latch on each pane, and the pane itself is big enough for me to easily climb through. I glance back over my shoulder, and I see –
The shadow, it morphs, stretches, filling the whole wall.
I frantically turn back to the window, open the pane, and scramble out.
Distantly, I think I hear my name being called. But I can’t answer, and I don’t want to go back. I have to get away. I need to hide.
All around me, there’s – sand. And rocks. Both small and big, the latter of which I see are huge, craggy and pocked with cavernous holes. I head in the direction of the closest one.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. I’m being followed – chased.
My feet carve into the sand, as I’m barely able to pick them up. Sweat drips from my forehead, down my neck, my breath coming in labored pants. Oh yeah, I can definitely hear my name, shrill and loud, other words too that I can only somewhat parse. A frantic urgency runs down my back like a cold chill. They’re going to grab me. They’re going to take me, force me –
I have to get to those rocks. To hide myself away. I pick up my pace, my heart pounding so hard it feels as though it’s going to rip out of my chest.
I’m close. Just a bit further, and then I –
I immediately drop to my hands and knees as a wave of pressure moves through me, an absurdly low hum that reverberates in my chest and makes my inner ear go nuts, knocking me off balance and making me retch. A terrifying tangle of dread roils in my gut that pulls anguished noises from my throat.
An angered shriek pierces the air, and the low hum immediately stops.
I can do nothing but shiver and shake for a few long moments, black spots swirling across my vision. I can’t even begin to fathom what that was. They must have a weapon, something to subdue me.
I’m desperate. I claw at the ground, pulling myself forward, confused when my fingernails dig into sand instead of grass and black dirt.
It’s a near thing, but I make it. I tuck myself into a small grotto in the large rock, hunched over, pushing myself as far back into it as I can. It’s dim and cool and sharp and smells of musty ammonia.
Then suddenly there’s a lot of commotion at the entrance of the grotto. I catch a few words here and there, but I mostly tune them out, eyes closed, breathing ragged, head on my knees.
I don’t know how safe it is here. I don’t know where I am. My feverish brain can’t seem to hold onto any one thought for more than a few seconds. My body feels like it exists simply to give pain and sickness a place to inhabit. The sense of wrongness is nearly overwhelming. I don’t know what this means or what to do about it.
Time slips. I stare unseeing at the entrance of the grotto. The commotion that had been so present before gradually ebbs away until all I can hear is my own heartbeat.
Then. A familiar voice just outside that speaks soft and slow.
“...hoped you were friendly, and I was right. Cannot explain happiness to see another ship. If crew were alive, would have thrummed for hours about good and bad reasons to make contact. Would be too too slow. Knew I needed to contact alien immediately. What if alien knew why star dims? Even if alien not friendly, better than no contact. So I make captain decision to immediately make contact. Then communication! Was happy happy happy. Ran up and down ship like a pebble. And then could not believe senses when hear Grace walking on top of ship. Thought, alien is crazy. Alien is brave. Proven right later, of course, with both assumptions. Rocky always right.”
There’s a long pause. I’m quiet, waiting for more.
“Adrian wishes wellness for you. Have seen Adrian many times since returning. Much anticipation for you to meet. They are very excited to meet you. When time is right. Can take as much time as needed to heal.”
Another pause. The voice speaks again, this time even lower and softer. “Scientists think they know why Grace is so sick. Will need more blood to isolate deficiency and confirm. Researched sickness, even though I did not want to know. Now understand brain issues. Grace scared. Grace hurting. Bad for a while before gets better. Rocky understand. Rocky here.”
Rocky. His words wash over me. I can’t quite follow what he says, other than surface-level understanding. But it sounds nice. It reminds me of being together on the Hail Mary, just him and me. Figuring it out. We had a pretty good run of that, just the two of us. Maybe we can figure this out too.
I shift, inching towards the entrance, conflicted. I don’t want to leave. This small space soothes my animal brain. But worse is the thought of making Rocky worry.
He is patiently quiet, waiting for me to make the first move.
I scoot just a little closer and slowly stick my hand out of the entrance. Rocky’s claw finds it, a gentle warmth that curls onto my palm, grounding me.
We sit like that for a while, just the two of us.
*
I wake.
I’m back in bed. (My bed?) The light coming from the closed floor-to-ceiling windows is a golden glow.
I take in my surroundings without moving.
The shadow is back, twitching in the corner. I watch its every move, laser focused, unable to tear my gaze away.
Rocky’s claw still rests in my hand. He must hear me stir, because he taps my palm: one-two-three.
I blink. And I remember.
I curl a finger and tap back: one-two-three.
The shadow is still present, but my eyes slip closed again, unworried.
*
“No, surgeries are fairly common,” I say, shifting to sit up a bit more. “I think I read something once that said an average person will have nine surgeries across their lifetime? That seems a bit high, but what do I know? I’m not that kind of doctor.”
“Nine!” Georgie says, aghast. “One-Who-Gives-Selflessly have surgery, question?”
I think for a moment. “I remember getting my wisdom teeth out. They’re these teeth that are hidden under the gums until humans are older. Our jaws,” I run a finger down my own now-sharp jawline, “can’t accommodate them until we reach maturity. If our wisdom teeth came in any earlier, it could cause serious damage to the jaw. Just not enough room for them.”
Georgie makes a noise like a boiling teakettle. “Disgust! Amaze!”
Georgie has completely forgotten what they’re doing, which is supposed to be checking my stats on Armando’s readout. But it’s okay, I’m feeling pretty good. Compared to the last few weeks, I’m feeling absolutely stupendous.
B12 deficiency is absolutely no joke.
And one that was low on my list of potential issues when I briefed Rocky during our journey to Erid.
But I know way more than I want to about it now, as do the Eridians. When I was finally lucid enough to have a conversation that wasn’t just single word answers, Rocky explained it all to me. How they first thought it was some kind of chemical imbalance in the brain brought about by malnutrition. And how, after more research into the major deficiencies in my bloodwork, they went full steam ahead on synthesizing B12, hoping they were right. And they were.
My improvements weren’t immediate, and neither are all my symptoms gone, but after just a few weeks, I feel better than I have in a long time.
One of my first orders of business was to make amends with Georgie. I had apparently scared them in a way that no one will fully explain to me, which made me feel somehow even worse. There’s a lot I can’t remember.
But I found that Georgie is quick to forgive. I throw in some extra teaching opportunities when I can to hopefully further smooth out my past transgressions.
Dr. Cox marches in, all business per usual. “Time for exercise,” they announce. “New route today.”
I’m about to grumble, but I say “ooh” instead.
I’m still in a calorie deficit, but my overall nutrition is gradually improving, thanks to the incredibly hard work of my caretakers. We’ve started doing a few very gentle physical therapy exercises and taking walks so slow I almost fall asleep while standing up.
Moving from sitting to standing is a whole to-do, but once I’m up, I revel in how good it feels to use what little muscle I have left.
I grab my cane, wave bye to Georgie, and we’re off.
“Where are we headed?” I ask, following Dr. Cox. “You know how much I love walking through the same hallways over and over.”
They don’t bother answering me and instead just guide me to the front door.
Rocky is on the other side.
“Rock! I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”
He teeters back and forth excitedly on his legs. “Hi Grace! Have surprise! Feeling okay?”
“Not bad,” I say. “You have a… sur…prise…?”
I can hear it before I see it.
The biodome has been expanded down the stretch of sand I’m slowly becoming familiar with. What has been added is enough to immediately mentally transport me to the past, back on Earth, the sharp clarity of sense memory overriding the present. The cool breeze; the salty air; the muffled roar of waves crashing on the shoreline.
“You didn’t,” I say faintly.
“True, Rocky didn’t. Eridian biodome engineers did.”
My brain is absolutely spinning. “I thought — I thought you were joking! You guys actually made — but how — that’s — just for me? Rocky, that’s just – it’s too – ”
“Do not say ‘too much’,” he interrupts. “Grace help save all of Erid. Grace get to have piece of Erid just for him. Already long ago decided.”
I stand there, dumbfounded, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Can say big thank thank thank to Adrian. They helped design and manage build.”
“Oh gosh,” I say. “That’s – wow. I absolutely will next time they stop by.”
Finally meeting Adrian was about as nerve wracking as I thought it would be. Not because they weren’t nice — they were in ways I felt I could never reciprocate — but I wanted to make as good an impression as I could, and I could only do so much weak and malnourished from a bed. At least with the addition of B12 to my diet, my memory problems and hallucinations had significantly decreased, so I wasn’t totally out of it when I met them.
“Want to see closer?” Rocky asks. “Will go slow.”
“I’d love nothing more,” I say in earnest.
We meander down slowly, me taking shuffling steps, Rocky holding onto my bicep. It takes a lot more effort than I’m used to exerting, but the end result is worth it.
I don’t dare try and sit for fear of not being able to get back up again. But it’s nice to take a breather and watch the waves – waves! – roll in.
“How are you doing, bud?” I ask suddenly. He’s had to handle so much since returning. The Taumoeba craft, informing the various science teams about what happened during his 70-year absence, meeting the clusters of the Eridians who didn’t make it, and, of course, helping keep me alive.
He makes a thoughtful noise. “Spent so long not able to fix anything. Now can help fix everything. Is good, but….” He shifts from side to side uncomfortably. “Don’t want to sleep. Pushing until I have no choice but to sleep. Adrian watches, but… is different. Everything different.”
Yeah. Everything different. For both of us.
He clacks his claws together, working himself up to continue. “Sometimes… just want to be back on ship. Just Grace and Rocky. While on ship, wanted to go home to Erid. Now want to go back. But missed Erid so much. Missed Adrian so much. Not understand.”
I nod. “I know what you mean. I’ve, uh. Had the same thought. Multiple times. And not just because of all the deficiencies messing with my brain.” I grind my cane into the sand a bit. “I’m no expert in mental health, but we both went through a lot of bad stuff, both separately and together. But when things were good, it was… nice, in a weird way. We had routines. Up there, we could only rely on each other. And then when we got here, we had to relinquish that control. Everything became very different very quickly. It’s hard to adjust to something like that.”
“Understand,” Rocky replies. “Was difficult to be in space at first. Then adjust. Was all I knew for many many many years. Maybe forget how to be Eridian.”
His species doesn’t forget things, but I know what he means. What I do remember of these past few weeks is feeling as though my own humanity was being slowly stripped away. I’m having to relearn how to be a person again somewhere completely foreign, while also coming back from a debilitating illness.
“I think it’s just going to take some time for both of us to adjust,” I murmur. “Sometimes… I just – I have to fight this urge to find a small, enclosed space and grab you and hide in there. Would’ve thought I’d be claustrophobic from being on the Hail Mary so long, but no. Guess my dumb human brain equates you and small space with safe, even though I know I am safe here.”
“Not dumb. Always safe with Rocky, obvious,” he says smugly like I knew he would. “Maybe can create small space in biodome to feel safe sometimes where Rocky can join. Better than rocks on beach.”
I cringe at the reminder of my hallucination-fueled escape. Not that I remember; Rocky told me when I demanded he let me know everything that happened. But then I brighten.
“Oh! Like a pillow fort!”
He angles his carapace toward me. “Not understand word.”
“Kind of like an indoor cave made with soft objects. That you can sleep in. It’s cozy.”
“Good. Will make. Then can watch you sleep.”
Normal conversations to have with your normal alien best friend. Whatever. I can’t and won’t deny the calm that sweeps through me at just the thought of it.
My legs are starting to tremble from being upright so long. Time to head back.
I nudge the leg closest to me. “Race you back to the house?”
It takes me twice as long to hobble back up than it did coming down, but Rocky is there with me every step of the way.