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Note: Rocky's Engineer logs translated and condensed into a readable version for human cultural exchange. Translation by "Free-point-fall-seeker / Xenobiologist-Xenolinguist-Orator-Author-North Forest" known by the human name "Sanders." I attempted to keep the general tone of their logs, which were of deep despair yet paired with unbelievable resilience. This set of logs details Saviour Rocky's time alone, specifically the time they spent making burial shrouds for the twenty-two Lost Crewmembers. Thank you for showing respect to Saviour Rocky.
Eridians were always buried in complex burial shrouds. Usually woven by many, many claws, with details expansive and beautiful. Eridians are buried to give their minerals back to the soil, to be eroded by the wind and the water.
An ancient Eridian myth said that the first Eridian was just a rock that decided it wanted to move. So it stood up and did so, and when it did not want to anymore, it simply sat down.
Rocky had watched. And watched. Over and over and over. Twenty two deaths. Not Rocky. They had theories about why. Perhaps it was because they were one of the younger members of the team. Perhaps it was because they kept to themselves so much that whatever disease took hold in the rest of the crew did not harm them.
Perhaps it was because they were the member of the team with the highest concentration of Lead and Tungsten in their mineral composition, and that somehow resisted the disease.
Rocky slept for a long time, too. In their workshop, huddled behind the storage compartments, wishing they had someone to watch over them. But the ship was silent every time they woke up.
The first time they slept alone, it was only for four hours. Then, more and more, they slept for longer and longer. Ten hours. Fourteen hours. Twenty-eight hours. Then, an entire week. A month. Four months.
By the time they woke up and realized they'd been asleep for six months, they realized that something was terribly wrong with them. Eridians needed socialization, clearly. Maybe it would be best to go back to Erid, regroup- no. They had to see this through. They would continue studying Tau Ceti, even if it meant they had to step over the bodies of their friends.
The first Eridian who had died was also the oldest. "Brilliant-uniter / Microbiologist-Physician-Saviour-North Forest" went to sleep and simply did not wake up. There was a brief funeral- the other Eridians were beginning to get sick as well. Rocky decided to make burial shrouds in the order that they passed, while doing everything they could to maintain the ship and their sanity.
They studied the star system for brief, short moments, spending most of their time working on the burial shrouds or sleeping. There was enough xenonite on the ship to build 2/3rds of an entire other ship, so resources were not thin for them.
They made "Brilliant-uniter" an intricate, wonderfully detailed shroud, putting everything they had ever learned about the older Eridian into the beaded fabric. It took two months of on-and-off work, between sleeping and researching and trying anything they could think of to fix it, fix everything, be better, fix it, just let them fix it-
After they draped the shroud over "Brilliant-Uniter's" lifeless body, they slept for six days.
They felt as if they were going insane. Throwing their carapace against the wall, trying to think of some kind of solution that would never come. They moved on to the next Eridian who had passed, "Depth-energy-solver / Chemist-Saviour-Southern Shore." They were perhaps the best Eridian to ever walk the planet at chemistry and, more specifically, chemical bonds. They understood xenonite better than anyone else. Even Rocky was not entirely sure of the chemical bonds.
Rocky wove in hundreds of diagrams of chemical bonds, all of the types that they had overheard "Depth-energy-solver" mention in the ship. When a certain segment was moved, it would play the Eridian word for "peace." Perhaps if they were still alive, they would have solved the entire mystery.
Rocky wondered when they were going to die. They did not feel sick, but they felt tired. They did not feel sad, but they felt empty. They wondered if these logs would ever reach another Eridian, or if they would die in space with the rest of the crew.
They thought about their mate, Adrian. They wanted to have pebbles when Rocky returned from their trip. But it had already been years since they left, the clock ticking and ticking and ticking as Rocky wasted away in a silent spaceship, hoping for a miracle that would, in all likelihood, never happen.
Would Adrian spend the rest of their life looking at the stars, wondering where they were? Or… would they move on? Rocky was unsure which idea they hated more.
"Iron-generous-brave-creator / Navigator-Cartographer-Saviour-South Plains" died third. There were two more navigators aboard, that lived long enough to get the ship to Tau Ceti, but they were the best at it. They had been part of a mission to map the largest inland sea on Erid, and did an incredible job.
Rocky wove the patterns of the ocean into their burial shroud. The names of their two mates and the ten children they left behind. They wove in the places "Iron-generous-brave-creator" had mapped. They wove in the path that the ship had taken to get to Tau Ceti. Then they slept for two weeks, grief suffocating them.
One of the fuel tanks had a slow leak; Rocky fixed it. One of the air ducts was clogged with xenonite dust; Rocky fixed it. One of the storage drawers wasn't shutting properly; Rocky fixed it.
The only thing they couldn't seem to fix was themselves. They could not stop the terror that overtook them every time they fell alseep, the devastation and despair that returned every time they woke up. They were supposed to be strong. The weight of an entire planet rested upon their back, pressing them down, destroying them.
The bodies did not begin to erode. They remained exactly the same. It was unnatural. It was terrifying. It made the air leave them and it made it difficult to get up, to manage the ship and maintain the instruments. But they did. Work had to be done, or all of Erid was doomed.
The fourth crewmember to die was "Hundred-brilliant-fighter / Chemist-Biologist-Saviour-Central Forest." Rocky recalled their story; they had been an incredibly late hatch, weeks after their four siblings were already absorbing minerals. Their parents named them "fighter" to make sure that everyone they met knew how hard they'd worked to get there, how much time it took and how much love they had for life.
Rocky wove in the names of all of their family members. Rocky wove in their love for the forest they came from, the life that it contained. Rocky wove in rememberance, and love, and placed the shroud atop their fallen body, barely able to breathe through the grief.
They wondered if they would have to make their own burial shroud, after they finished all twenty-two of the others. They did not seem to be getting worse, but they did not seem to be getting any better. Still sleeping for days or weeks out of grief, barely eating, barely working…
It was pathetic. And they knew basic Eridian psychology, they knew that self-hatred would only perpetuate unless they found a way to move past it. But it never seemed to go away, even when they did something good, like fixed a sensor or completed a detail for a shroud. They were doing the best they could. It was never enough. It was never enough. And how could it be? The ship was silent save for the engines and the life support. Even in their position at the far back of the ship, they could always hear at least one other Eridian.
The silence was weighing on them. Sometimes, they swore they could hear someone, right when they woke up. But as soon as they were really awake, the noise would be gone. So maybe they truely were losing their mind. And they got to remember every moment of it.
Some Eridians did not have completely Eidetic memory. Some Eridians needed constant support to even survive to adulthood. Rocky wished they could forget. They wished they could forget the pain, the suffering, the realization that they were completely and totally alone.
If only, if only, if only they could fix themselves.
Rocky moved to the next dead crewmember. At least while they were working, they could push everything to the back of their mind.
Erid was waiting for them.
One Eridian would have to be enough.