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Rocky, with a slow, methodical precision, turned his ♫♬♬♫ 2.54° to the left, then, he kicked three limbs forward and shimmied his claws.
This of course was an Eridian celebratory-joy-dance, a sacred ritual passed down through generations, completed when one’s ♫♫♬ came of age, or the fierce ammonia rains quietened, or the cure for the Star-Eaters fell out of an alien spaceship. For the feeble, human mind, the closest visual approximation of the dance would, unfortunately, be your old mate Paul: 9 pints of GUINNESS deep on St Patrick’s Day, and red-hot ready to bastardise the Irish Stepdance.
Rocky followed his jig (Paul never managed to complete his dance) with a thrilled chirp, today officially marked the 30th month since Grace had arrived on Erid, and the 27th month since his friend had focused the squishy, globular organs sitting inside his skull-holes upon him, and the pulsing meat behind the long spindly bones spread across his chest began to gallop with excitement.
It should be noted that Grace had also shouted: “Rocky, I can think again!” in elation, and that such a thorough description of the fleshy human form was entirely unnecessary.
Rocky maneuvered through the celebratory crowds gathering at the Centre for Human-Eridian Friendship. Party hats and noisemakers and celebration jewellery were abound. Today was a day of celebration for the entirety of Erid; and Eridians were a species that loved with all five of their hearts.
Grace himself was adorned with celebration jewellery, tassels and shapes and intricate detail that all told the story of a man with far too much time and tinfoil on his hands.
“Rock!” Grace called toward the inbound creature.
“Grace!” He returned
“Today is important Grace-day. Grace is ready, question?”
Grace wiggled the tassels attached to his arms, creating a sound not unlike a stack of forks rattling against each other.
“Firstly, I told you not to call it Grace-day, buddy.” “Too late, Erid is already calling it that, cannot stop Erid”
Grace sighed fondly,
“Don’t I know it. And heck yes I’m pumped!”
Celebrations at the Centre for Human Eridian Friendship were not uncommon, and in fact the centre was overcome with buzzing energy for a whopping 98.3% of its opening hours, the remaining time being characterised by a more reverent air as Eridian pilgrims travelled to the dome to worship their saviour.
Yet, despite the frequency of noisemakers and party hats and bad decisions at the Centre for Human Eridian Friendship. Today, the 30th month after Grace arrived on Erid, held a special degree of importance; being the official celebration of Erid’s sun returning to its pre-cold luminosity.
The fact that it coincided with Grace’s 30th month on Erid was pure coincidence (or if you asked the Gracevites who spent 1.7% of the Centre’s opening hours worshiping him, was indisputable proof that Grace was, in fact, God.)
“See you at party. Need to go find Adrian. Fist me?”
“How about a hi-three?”
“Fist me.”
Grace punched a fist out toward Rocky, the feathers of foil and xenonite he had attached to his body making an awful clanging noise to accompany the motion.
“Good. Also outfit for Grace will be brought by before party. Grace is very bad at making clothes.
Should be like Rocky, not wear clothes.”
Grace scrunched his face
“Ew, never doing that.”
Rocky decompressed, the banter ringing familiar to the deviant nudist, who scuttled toward the exit of the biodome upon the rejection of his entirely valid suggestion.
An Eridain party is an event as breathtaking as it is bizarre, particularly as the activity had been awkwardly meshed with human traditions following Grace’s arrival.
Eridians held red solo cups filled with a thick, yellowish balm that closely resembled petroleum jelly. Occasionally, one would reach into their cup, and scoop out a generous gloop of the balm, then spread it over the centre of their carapace. The Eridian who completed such an activity would shortly after find themselves considerably more relaxed, and amicable in awkward party discussions.
Dancing limbs that put Earth’s best breakdancers to shame flew through the air in a symphony of drunken movement. Accompanied by a mix of Eridian-Electro music (imperceptible to human hearing) and the picks off Grace’s playlist that had infiltrated the planet.
The alien whose Spotify account determined the future of human-alien diplomatic relations was currently covered in a flexible xenonite suit, beneath which he wore a refined selection of celebration jewellery that produced a pleasant chime as he moved his limbs through a determined production of the Macarena.
Rocky, wearing a minimalistic outfit consisting of two small pieces of metal that resembled can tabs stuck to his carapace, shuffled alongside him.
The night was abuzz with celebration and electric energy (literally– some Eridians produced sparks in times of euphoria). Yet, despite what his can tab bikini implied, Rocky’s mind was dampened with a secret weight he had spent the past 30 months shouldering.
Tonight, he would finally broach the sensitive question with Grace regarding the anomaly the medical team had picked up during full body scans of the human.
It had not proven to be a particularly destructive issue, yet Rocky would take no chances, the idea that Grace could be suffering silently was an unbearable burden upon the Eridian’s psyche.
So as Grace tired from his attempt at the “Cha-Cha-Slide” and collapsed into a chair, Rocky approached him timidly.
“Grace.”
The heavy tone of his voice caused the sweaty man to snap out of his exhausted stupor.
“We need to talk.”
Grace moved closer,
“Sure Rock, what’s up? Is everything okay?”
“That’s what Rocky’s not sure about. Grace, be honest, the medical team needs to know.”
Grace paled,
“Of course- I would never, I wouldn’t lie about something so serious. What’s wrong with me?”
“What happened to Grace’s tail?”
“Excuse me?”
Rocky decompressed
“Knew this would be sensitive subject for Grace, there is no sham–”
“I don’t have a tail. At least I don’t think…” Grace checked over his shoulder just in case, “nope, I don’t have a tail.”
“Yes. That is the problem. What happened to it?”
“I never had one.”
“Oh, understand. Did this make it hard for Grace to fit in on Earth?” Rocky kindly asked.
“Well, no human on Earth has one, naturally, at least. You’ve watched movies, no one has a tail there.”
“Rocky assumed it was very private. Kept hidden. Like eating.”
Grace laughed.
“Oh, not at all, why do you think I would have one?”
Rocky gestured to the small of Grace’s back.
“My tailbone? Humans sort of evolved out of that one. Lost it.”
“What.”
“Yeah, we’re full of useless leftover evolutionary structures.”
Rocky seemed extremely displeased at this information, yet the tension that radiated through his limbs had eased, Grace would be okay.
“Human evolution is stupid. Let too many useless things happen. Not like Eridians. Eridians are perfectly evolved.”
Grace swatted his friend playfully
“Yeah right. Humans, and other animals, are full of these useless parts, they're called vestigial structures, it’s kinda cool.”
Rocky settled in next to his tired friend, pressing himself as close to Grace as the xenonite suit would allow.
“What else is useless, question?”
“Well most of it we made useless ourselves, like wisdom teeth– extra teeth that come in as you get older– were made redundant by our processed diets. Had to get those taken out third year of college” he shuddered.
Rocky shook his carapace in disapproval, the Eridian found the very notion of teeth extremely disturbing, particularly as they were surrounded by wet, squishy gums, and kept in a constant state of moisture by a fleshy structure extending from a human’s throat. Gross. So… leaky.
“There’s also the appendix, surely Stratt took that out though. And, that one’s debated, when I was on Earth there was something about it helping with meat digestion.”
“And of course, there’s these,” Grace gestured to his nipples.
“They do literally nothing. In women they produce milk following pregnancy.”
Rocky snapped to attention.
“Grace can’t produce milk, question?”
Grace scrunched his face in disgust, “why is this something you care about?” he plead.
“But Grace is so leaky. All he does is leak, leak, leak. But no milk. The one that is used to raise young? Boring, Grace is boring.”
Grace gasped in offense “Well I’m sorry my nipples aren’t cool enough for you!”
God, he was really glad that there was no human in a 13 light-year radius to hear that one.
“Male nipples do nothing, they are useless, is Grace sure?”
“I mean, I could pierce them. But no, no biological process.”
“Grace will not poke more holes in himself, Rocky forbids it. Rocky is glad that useless structures are just useless, not harmful.”
Grace smiled, wrapping his arm around Rocky,
“Me too bud. Me too.”
The next morning Grace found himself folded over the toilet, groaning as nausea swirled in his stomach.
He wet his dry lips.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t hung over. He wished he was hung over. But Rocky still hadn’t gotten him any real alcohol, the little son of a beaker tried to pass off a red slushie as a Bloody Mary, he even put a tiny artificially synthesised olive in it.
No, Grace’s situation was all pain no gain, an entirely sober sickness.
A little instinctual worm (common term: paranoia) kept whispering in his ear that last night’s talk with Rocky had something important about it, a quiet subconscious alarm bell.
It couldn’t be… he placed a hand over his cramping abdomen.
“I’m pregnant,” he whispered. Before remembering that he hasn’t had sex since that one time with Linda (bleugh) and that he also didn't have a womb.
Just his luck that he managed to get an alien stomach bug. Well it was kind of cool. Actually, it was really awesome. He considered swabbing his saliva and putting it under a microscope to look for little alien bacteria. Then he considered his bed, rumpled blankets begging for his return.
A stabbing cramp twisted his side. Yep. Bed wins.
Briefly, a little voice told him he should probably call Rocky, but he didn’t want to stress him out. Not over a stomach ache.
Meanwhile, Rocky was working on an expansion to Grace’s classroom, a surprise gift for his friend who gave him everything. The plan was to install a small lab off to the side where Grace could demonstrate experiments for his students, Grace had mentioned a few times how he felt the lack of experiments in his Eridian classroom, always offhandedly, and never as a complaint.
And here’s Rocky’s favourite part: at the back of the lab was a machine that could synthesise xenonite in seconds. Rocky was going to make Grace do big science with him, no matter what his friend said (“yes”, if there was one certainty in the universe it was that Dr Ryland Grace would always say “yes” to weird alien science.)
It was as he was stacking shelves with glass beakers that Rocky felt a sudden sense of wrongness, an instinctual premonition that his human was being extraordinarily stupid.
Said stupid human was currently curled into his side and wishing, for the first time, that the catheter he woke up with on the Hail Mary was still installed.
“Oh crud” he whispered.
“I’ve gotta pee so bad.” Alas, confessing this did not fix his situation.
He tried to sit up, immediately the pain in his abdomen became blinding.
Nervously, he pressed two fingers to his side, opposite his heart.
Oh sweet Jiminy Cricket son of a biscuit fudging cheese! That hurt like a motherfluffer!
He groaned loudly, deciding to forgo his dignity and crawl across the floor commando style to the toilet.
Every dragging movement felt like fire. Fire that combined with lava, that combined with acid, that combined with the concept of misery itself.
Thankfully, he reached the toilet.
Unfortunately, he was now stuck on the toilet.
Bugger.
Rocky approached Adrian,
“Beloved, have you seen Grace, question?”
“Not since the party, my beloved. It is strange, he normally would be trying to pester the construction crew”
Indeed, the crew helping transform Grace’s classroom were surprised at their sheer efficiency, Grace had a certain tendency to trap his victims in conversation, and before they knew it they would be sat next to the charming human sharing their opinions on the combination of Zinc and Xenonite to produce stronger metals.
Onyx, an Eridian who felt this loss strongly, called toward Rocky and Adrian
“Saviour-Grace hasn’t approached any of us.”
Rocky and Adrian stiffened. Dread pooling at the bottom of their carapaces.
Without prompting, they ran to Grace’s home.
“Grace?” Rocky called, bursting through the door.
He listened for the thumping of Grace’s heart.
They found him, pale and shaking, head against the toilet seat.
He blinked at them slowly.
“Hey guys” he slurred.
“Grace, we need to get you to the medical team.”
Grace nodded, hitting his head against the seat.
“Good, good idea.” He coughed, and then groaned, cupping his side in agony.
As Adrian manhandled him toward the gate of the biodome, Rocky hurriedly questioned
“What’s wrong, Grace, do you know what caused this?”
Grace nodded.
“My appendix. You need to get it out.”
Deliriously, he smiled.
“I want you to do the surgery, Rock. It would be so cool to use your echolocation to find it.”
Rocky shuddered. Nope. Absolutely not.
“Rocky will get a professional to do it, silly Grace.”
Grace harrumphed dramatically, then winced from the motion.
“I don’t…” he began, placing his hand against his warm forehead.
“I don’t feel too good.”
And with that astute observation, Grace lost consciousness, falling limp in Adrian’s arms.
Rocky rushed ahead, he had to fix this, he couldn’t lose Grace– stupid, bad, Rocky, should’ve checked on Grace earlier, should've watched Grace sleep. He failed him. He failed him like he failed his crew.
“Onyx!” He cried out. “Get medical, emergency, need surgery.”
Onyx rushed out of the Biodome, racing to the medical team on standby at the Centre.
The speed with which Grace was transferred from Adrian’s arms to the operating table was truly a testament to the efficiency of the Eridian species, and the depth with which they loved.
Rocky, in a panicked, distressed state informed the crew of what Grace had told him.
Without fuss they removed the offending organ. Quick, precise.
Rocky felt his body weaken as the metal claw extensions performing the surgery deposited Grace’s appendix on the side table.
It was glistening with blood. Part of him, removed. It could have killed him, had Rocky waited longer.
As the crew dissipated, taking the appendix to an undisclosed location (a museum, definitely a museum) Rocky was left holding a silent vigil at Grace’s bedside.
His chest moved slowly, rhythmically. Like water. Rocky thought of the waves on Grace’s beach, approaching the shore, crashing, returning. Grace was so very much like the water he was composed of.
Rushing into his life, submerging him in a love he barely recognised because it was there, it was always there. A love that takes you in its tide and holds your head above the water.
But when Grace’s thin bones staggered upward, and his eyes were filled with starved delirium, when his skin was dried and shrivelled and clung to a body that fought a futile battle, when the water threatened to run dry. Rocky felt the loss of that love. Like a wave, rushing away from him, pulling back sand that he tried desperately to grasp as it slipped through his claws.
Adrian sat next to him.
“You know it is not your fault, beloved.”
“It is.”
“Should have checked earlier.”
“No.” Adrian refuted.
“You checked when you needed to, he will be okay. Grace is strong.”
They sat in silence, interrupted only by the steady thump of Grace’s heart.
His mate wrapped one of their arms around him.
“Now you must be strong, beloved.”
Grace awoke to a distinct lack of pain.
Uncoordinated, he felt his stomach. Rough bandages.
He reached blindly for water.
“Grace? Grace is awake, question?”
“Yeah” he croaked.
“I’m awake buddy”
His friend was still at his bedside, a warmly familiar sight.
“Thought you were gone. Thought I lost you.”
Grace turned to Rocky.
“Not that easy.” He choked around the thick weight building in his throat, before plastering himself against Rocky’s Xenonite suit.
They sat, intertwined, for a time that certainly exceeded the threshold of social acceptability.
“I’m sorry, I would’ve called for you earlier, but well, I thought it couldn’t be appendicitis.”
He sat back in his bed.
“Astronauts have it removed preemptively, just in case.”
“Why did Grace have his?” Rocky asked stiffly.
“Stratt didn’t have time to do that.” He uttered in cold realisation.
He placed his hand over his trembling lips. Holding them steady.
“I guess–” he breathed shakily.
“She never thought it would be a problem, wasn’t meant to spend much time up there, was I.”
He held his head in his hands, it didn’t stop the shaking.
“Bitch” Rocky seethed.
“You can’t say that Rock!” Grace laughed, wet and startled, but it worked, his friend knew him well.
Rocky timidly scuttled closer.
“Grace is okay now, question?”
“Yeah bud, I’ll be alright.”
Rocky wiggled happily.
“Good. Does Grace have any other evil body parts? Need to take off nipples, question?”
Grace shuddered, picturing that image, his body parts in a little jar like some sort of mad science display.
“Nope, no thank you.”
Rocky nodded.
“Wait, where is my appendix?”
“The Centre for Human-Eridian Friendship took it.”
Oh fudgenuggets, his body parts were in a jar like some sort of mad science display!