Chapter Text
Ryland Grace was happy.
It was late one random evening, though the term “evening” was a bit more subjective than it used to be; It had been around 2 earth years since the Hail Mary had docked from her maiden voyage to the only port she would ever see again.
The only port he would ever see again.
A too-bright LED hummed just behind him, beams of light lancing through his skull as he tried to squint and get his classroom things in order.
Gently placed behind a clear xenonite barrier, the only thing keeping 29 atmospheres' worth of pressure and toxic ammonia from rushing in and choking him alive. The only thing that divided his human safe little bubble from the extremely hostile environment outside.
The Xenonite making the barrier looked similar to glass from up close, far too thin for its ridiculous tensile strength. If it were made of glass…
The image of those horrific submarine accidents came to mind. Crushed like a soda can.
It wasn’t like it bothered him. He trusted Rocky’s engineering implicitly; those were just thoughts that came and went, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to living in cramped quarters by now.
The other side of the barrier where the kids usually were was dark; they had headed home a little while ago. The shadows of the inaccessible portion of the room brought his eyes some much-needed rest as he glanced over it.
There it was again, the buzzing. The slight tinnitus-inducing hum of electricity.
He grabbed a small bag of some of the xenonite models Rocky had made for him. He often used them in little puppet shows to illustrate concepts to the kids. He smiled fondly as he recalled the lesson in star formation he had done earlier that day. Using them was a heck of a lot more creative and fun than most lessons he got to do back on Earth. It was true no matter the species, it seemed, that the more creative and fun you could make a lesson, the more the kids would respond well to it. It wasn’t like he could just throw on a lazy PowerPoint for Eridian kids the way you could for humans.
His hands traced the outline of the crochet beanbag of Earth in his cardigan pocket.
There was a barrier in the way. No way a game like The Bean Bag is Lava would work. Not without some kind of overly complicated airlock system.
Erid.
Earth.
He rounded up the last of the models into a carrying case, making sure none were missing. It was always worth it to not have to ask Rocky to make the same thing twice, gosh, the lip that rock could serve despite not even having any-
The humming stayed, persistent in the back of his awareness, the aching in his skull resonating with it.
He’d have to talk to the science team about the lights soon.
Another Day.
He woke up the next morning to the sound of Rocky abusing his front door precisely 8 hours after he had gone to sleep. he rolled to the side of his bed to get up like he had every day since he moved into his little house in the biodome, and got to his feet like he did every day-
-Aaaaaaand immediately regretted it.
As soon as he stood, a nauseating feeling of lightheadedness clambered up his throat and settled in his brain, vision narrowing and senses dulling; he fought to keep his awareness as he suddenly couldn’t breathe.
He turned around, sat himself down on his bed just as he had seen in that medical seminar instructional video all that time ago and just…steadied his breath for a moment.
The fog in his brain gradually retreated, and with it, all of his energy.
Ugh.
He slumped over and reached for the glass of water he always kept on his nightstand.
Wow. He either wasn’t as used to the new gravity as he thought he was, or he was just getting old. Probably both.
Rocky kept banging on the door. His stomach grumbled.
It was his raw force of will versus his traitorous muscles and brain. Like those scenes in old Jackie Chan movies where he has to fight loads of ninjas at once. A two-on-one showdown. Who will win?
FIGHT!
Rocky won’t be happy with us. His Will shouted.
Tired. His muscles shot back.
We do have work today. Informed his common sense, rather unhelpfully from the sidelines. It wouldn’t get in on the action itself, the coward.
But I’m sleepy. His brain supplied.
He was. He had slept a full night, but he just felt so…so sleepy.
No! Don’t give in! His will screamed. Don’t side with them! You have stuff to do today!
Stuff to do, like wolf down another bland Taumeoba nutrient shake for breakfast? His stomach joined the fight and went in for the killing blow, flanking with the steel chair from that one meme.
KO!
Just…just sleep. That sounded good.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Oh gosh dangit, fine.
Rocky continued banging on the door. The sounds she was making were not happy, not that he could make out any words from here.
He fought his body and got up anyway. Because that was what adults did.
The torture inflicted on his poor door ceased when he actually answered it. He was right. Rocky was not happy with him.
“Uh, good morning?” He half asked in a tone his mouth vomited out without thinking.
“You no answer. Why, question?!” The small, sentient, angry boulder at his feet fussed.
“Yeah, I accidentally snoozed my alarm.”
Rocky paused for a quarter of a second, and then pointed at him with two hands. “Lie. Grace just lazy.”
What was it his kids said? Cha cha real smooth? Say sike right now? Or was that old now?
Relativity, duh. His kids were probably nearly his age by now. Of course it was old.
Rocky’s xenonite suit glimmered like a crystal in this light. No one would ever see that besides him. He traded his weight to his other leg. “Caught me red-handed. You want to go on a walk?”
They went on the walk like they did every time.
It turned into a jog about halfway in, as he had to speed up to catch up to where Rocky was frolicking in the artificial waves. The fog machine activated, and a pleasant mist rolled in from the above water.
The biodome team had finally gotten the temperature right; the fog was amazing.
The wind still didn’t taste right, though. There was none of the petrichor you’d get on days bordering a rainstorm. The dirt composition wasn’t right for that, alien minerals. None of the bacterial culture for the soil that plants needed to survive had come with him. He was grateful not all the species in the Hail Mary’s hydroponics lab had gone locally extinct thanks to the helpful scientists he had been introduced to.
Maybe once enough of them managed to be cultivated, he could talk to them about starting his own garden. Ryland himself wasn’t much of a gardener; he hadn’t planted anything beyond germinating beans and corn in wet paper towels for class experiments, but back in the day he had managed to keep a cactus alive for a while before he forgot about it on a shelf. Poor Bernice. She was so young.
He glanced around him as he sat down for a much-needed breather. There were no shells or shore grasses.
Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it darn well was the best he could get in this corner of the galaxy.
He was just grateful for how hard Rocky, Adrien (the eridian), and the others had tried. He was so lucky to have what he had. If even one thing that happened since he woke up hadn’t- hadn’t run into the Blip-A, hadn’t managed to find anything on Adrien (the planet, not the eridian), hadn’t had his crew perish when they did, he probably would have starved to death lightyears from home.
But, against literally all the odds to ever exist, the universe or whatever was out there had seen fit to spare him.
Earth was safe, Erid was safe, and most of all, Rocky was alive.
He had a future in this place, something he hadn’t had since Stratt betrayed him and shot him into space, kicking and screaming.
He was happy here.
(So why didn’t it feel like it?)
Ryland felt his eyes begin to water. He brushed it away with his sleeve. Weird, must be the humidity.
“Why Grace stop, question?” Rocky chimed as he trotted back his way.
His muscles ached beyond their years, and the constant tiredness came back with the waves crashing against the shore.
“I’m not sure, Rock. I think I’m just tired today.” He admitted after a second too long of silence.
Rocky’s body language turned concerned. “Then Grace not lie before walk. Apology apology apology.”
“Well,” Ryland admitted with a half smile, ”It was kind of a lie.”
“Indignation! Jail for Grace! 1000 Earth years!” Rocky whistled with that timbre that always let him know he was being dramatic. The Eridian stomped theatrically, blowing up some of the finer sand particles into a cloud that reminded him of Looney Tunes.
Ryland cheesed and had to cover his face with his hands. His diaphragm disagreed, however, and a laugh, a full-on belly laugh, erupted out of him. He laughed so hard it hurt. So hard that Rocky felt the need to join in with that little chittering laugh of his.
Some sense of relief washed over him, as some deep tension within him loosened.
The moment died as all tended to do, and silence fell over both of them.
“Grace, okay, question? Can cancel class.” Rocky offered, loafing next to him.
He yawned. “That…sounds good. I don’t know...how much longer I’ll be awake.”
“Grace, go home. Get sleep. Rocky must do an urgent errand, but will watch sleep when return.” His best friend stood and pointed over the ridge where his house was with an insistent digit.
“Okay, okay, Mom, I will.”
“Move legs!”
He went home.
(Home, huh?)
The artificial rain had started by the time he got back. It was a little something he asked Adrien about a few months back. Rocky’s mate was everything he had described. Talented, beautiful, and most of all brilliant.
The sky lights had started to dim to simulate clouds, and a noisemaker rumbled with distant thunder.
Urgh, Ryland had forgotten to eat earlier, and now he was regretting that majorly. Tired, hungry, and soaked to the bone.
He had never again been as muscular as he had been after he first woke up, especially after that brush with starving to death (Goodbye, beach bod…), but his muscle mass was nearly back to what it had been on Earth. He was glad; otherwise, he would probably look a lot more like one of those sad wet cats in those ads he always skipped.
He opened the door, waved to Armando, quickly scarfed down something in his fridge (Thanks, Rocky), and changed into some dry clothes in much anticipation of a nap.
As soon as he saw his bed, the little tired voice in his head rejoiced, and he was asleep almost as soon as he hit the pillow.
…Was what he would like to say. Because what actually happened was he was awoken about 10 minutes later by a loud scratching sound at the door.
He looked at the time. Oh. Was Rocky back already? That errand didn’t take nearly as long as it sounded like it would.
He yawned as he pulled his cardigan on and stumbled his way to the door for the second time that day.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.”
He fumbled with the lock, and the scratching grew more frantic.
He opened the door to the crashing of rain. “Geez, you’re impatient. Rocky, I’m-”
Something fast and small flew past his legs and crashed into one of the legs of his dinner table, scrambling around as it destabilized the chair next to it, sending it to the ground with a loud clatter.
The thing flailed this way and that as it scrambled to get to its feet. Ryland let loose a high-pitched girlish scream. The thing jumped the height of the table as the shadow of its body sprang in his direction.
It was all he could do to fall to the ground and cover his face in a vain attempt to protect it. He kicked and shrieked his way to pressing his back against the wall.
That is not Rocky. That is not Rocky! It was dark, and whatever that thing was, it was still in here!
As if it were psychic, the door slammed closed with no one to hold it open.
Oh no. Now it was trapped in here!
He wasn’t thinking clearly. Thoughts too frazzled to come out in a straight line; all he knew was that he had to get it out!
He shot to his feet, slammed his hand on the light switch, grabbed the closest thing that might qualify as a weapon, and held it out in front of himself like it was the sword of a mighty knight of yore and not a broom in the hands of a shaking, terrified science teacher turned unwilling savior of two worlds.
This is just like the horror movies-he’s survived countless unwinnable deadly situations by the skin of his teeth only to be the first to die in a horror movie?!
He spun every which way, trying to find his monster and intimidate it with his deadly broom-fu techniques.
Okay, realistically, it's not a monster, his science brain chimed in, trying to narrow down possibilities. What could it be? Just some raccoon probably.
What raccoons, idiot?! We're on Erid!
Ooooooooooh nooooooooooooo.
He’s on Erid, and there’s something with him, in his atmosphere!
This really is a horror movie. Fudge fudge fudge fudge fudge fudge fudge fudge fudge heyisthatacat-
Looking closer, and with light this time, the little monster transformed into a soaked, trembling, hissing-and-spitting white cat with green eyes, standing in the corner of his room behind the knocked-over chair and the wall like it was some kind of fortress, showing yellowed teeth, too little body mass, and a pelt covered in scratches oozing blood onto its gnarled, debris filled fur.
He stood there, mouth agape for what felt like hours.
It was, as it turned out to be, a cat.