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There.
There. A flicker of Petrova light, barely detectable by your scanners. But it’s new, it’s right on time, and - most importantly - it’s coming directly from the direction of Earth.
A high-pitched squeal erupts from your carapace before you can contain yourself. You’ve been waiting thirteen human years for this. For him.
Grace is in that spaceship. And he’s less than a human week’s distance away.
Your claws twitch toward the steering controls, aching to close that distance faster. But- you can’t.
You’ve thought about it long and hard, ever since you died in that accident in Grace’s biodome and you inexplicably woke up in what Grace named the Blip-A, decades younger and infinitely more alone. After you’d convinced yourself you hadn’t had some sort of mental break - extremely rare among Eridians, but you’d never been the most stable of your species even after returning to Erid - you had to consider your options. With what you know now, you could return to Erid and your mate, certain of the solution to both the astrophage crisis and the radiation poisoning of your crew, bring up another group of scientists to harvest and breed the taumoeba, and save your homeworld well within a human decade.
But what thrum would believe your stories of time travel, or of meeting an alien? What researchers would trust the existence of radiation when they understood it only through Grace’s repeated and well-informed explanations, ones you don’t have the knowledge to provide? And - more important than the rest of it - if you save Erid, who will help Grace save Earth?
In the universe only you remember, Erid received Grace with very little suspicion only because it was easily provable that he had sacrificed his life (or meant to, at least) for your sake, and for the sake of Erid. In this one, would Erid’s governing bodies be more suspicious of his species’ intentions?
And what about Grace? You’ve watched countless movies about alien invasion with him. He’s told you that you look similar to a “scary, deadly creature” on Earth. You know the only reason he trusted you in the beginning was because the importance Grace gave to self-preservation, especially when he had fewer memories, ranked only slightly below his scientific curiosity. If you - or other Eridians - offer him a perfect solution and a way home, he might find it more suspicious than reassuring.
And of course, you have a selfish reason to drift here in empty space. If you go home, they might send someone else in your place. You may never meet Grace again.
You hear the pinprick of light grow louder and steadier through your scanners. Your feet tap restlessly on the ground.
You are selfish, and you are stubborn. The facts are these: you cannot lose Grace. Even if it means thirteen years of sleeping unobserved for you and thirteen years of uncertainty for your people, you are unwilling to continue any longer in a universe without him. Damn Erid, damn yourself- you will find your best friend again, however long it takes him to arrive.
And now, finally, he has.
You need to be careful, of course, which is difficult because your natural impatience has been compounded by the years you have waited. Grace cannot learn that you already know him - this, too, his human movies have taught you. It is alarming when a possible adversary knows more about you than yourself, which - given his memory problems in the initial weeks you knew each other - you certainly will. You cannot give him a reason to doubt that you have good intentions, a goal all the more frustrating because you do have good intentions. Better intentions than you’d prefer, anyway.
After all, the reason Grace was forced to Erid in the first place was because of your idiotic engineering error in creating the taumoeba tanks out of xenonite. If you simply do not do that- if you part ways with Grace, and you never need to be saved-
Well.
As much as your Grace had said he’d “made peace” with his decision to stay on Erid, it would be cruel to force him to do the same now.
This has been more difficult than the loneliness, the injuries, the survivor’s guilt- accepting this.
In a universe that doesn’t exist, you have already known Grace for decades. Now, you will only know him for weeks. Months, at best.
You murmur soft reassurances to yourself, watching the light of the Hail Mary slow down, down, down. You will meet Grace in a few short days. You will lose him almost as quickly.
It is okay. It is worth it, for him.
- - -
Holy fucking shit! He’s here!
I’ve been literally bouncing off the walls with boredom for nine days now. Now it’s all happening at once.
It had been easy enough - read: still extremely difficult for some reason - to convince Stratt to send only me to space after I’d caught the mistake that had once blown up Shapiro and DuBois, demonstrated how to construct xenonite using a method every material scientist on the project agreed was centuries ahead of Earth’s current capabilities, and - maybe the most convincing of all - worked with Dr. Lamai to discover a second gene coding for coma resistance, one that I happened to possess but the other six trained crew didn’t.
It had been bittersweet, learning that Earth had only been saved the first time around because I’d been forced onto the Hail Mary against my will. Stratt, on the other hand, had been livid.
“We can’t only send you,” she’d snapped during a meeting. “Even if we can’t properly train anyone in the week we have, you won’t survive without a pilot and engineer. You’re just a science specialist.”
“I piloted the Hail Mary for over three years. I’ll pass the piloting simulations,” I reminded her, and her eyebrows drew together. Even though I’d proven the existence of time travel beyond a reasonable doubt, Stratt still seemed surprised every time I referenced something that had happened in my universe. “And I’ll just- handle engineering like I did last time.”
Stratt caught my hesitation, because of course she did. “How?” she demanded.
I’d avoided the topic of Rocky for the couple days I’d been back, half of me worrying that I was crazy and the other half assuming I wouldn’t be believed, but there was no dancing around it now. My lips twitched. “Oh, you know,” I told her. “I’ll make a friend.”
“In space?”
Ilyukhina figured it out first. Her chair slammed back. “You! You meet an alien? An alien engineer?”
“Yup,” I said, grinning. “He’s great. His name’s Rocky.”
So, anyway, after a lot of screaming and explanations, I ended up the sole crewmember of the Hail Mary. They provided me with as much extra equipment and food that they could in such a short time, wished me luck, and sent me up to the stars.
When I opened my eyes over a dozen years later, it was with utter relief: I was alive, I had all my memories - I told Mary my name was “Ryland Grace” with all the inextinguishable joy of a man that vividly remembered not knowing it - and I didn’t need to conduct any space burials. It was the best morning I’d ever had.
The first time I’d woken, I’d spent days stumbling around in confusion, trying to understand who I was and what I was doing here. This time, it only took a day or so to reacquaint myself with Armando, the piloting systems, and the rest of the ship. That means the eight days it’s taken until engine shutoff have been the most mind-numbingly boring days I’ve ever experienced. And that’s saying a lot- once I nearly died from scurvy.
But now I can turn on the Petrovascope. I can see that brilliant red line, full of the little space microbe that’s killing two planets full of people I love, and I can see the silhouette of a huge, flat-planed spaceship maintaining distance 217 meters from the Hail Mary. The radar proclaims it the BLIP-A.
It’s Rocky. It’s Rocky.
I’m trying not to cry, but tears bubble up and film my vision in the zero-g anyway. From my perspective between the time travel and the coma, I saw him less than two weeks ago. It’s still way too long.
Though I’d never admitted it to Stratt and the rest of my colleagues on Earth, I worried about what might change from life to life. I’d read and watched enough sci-fi to be extremely familiar with the idea of the butterfly effect. I didn’t think it applied here - how could what I changed on Earth affect Rocky 11.9 light-years away? But knowing Rocky is still here is more of a relief than I’d expected. The last I’d seen him, there had been some sort of issue with the biodome and a cloud of mixed oxygen-ammonia had consumed us both. The only thing more painful than dying had been knowing Rocky was dying at the same time. I still don’t fully understand the second chance the universe’s given us, but I’ll take it.
Of course, this Rocky won’t remember me. I can’t let on that I remember him - I have basically no proof, and I don’t want to confuse him when it’ll already take us so long to understand each other. I’m hoping to tell him eventually, maybe when we’re en route to Erid, but for now, we have an astrophage crisis to solve. One that Rocky has been struggling with for longer than I’ve been alive.
“Oh, buddy,” I say, and fire up the engines for exactly one second. A half-second later - faster than I remember him responding the first time, but my memory isn’t Eridian-perfect - Rocky’s ship does the same. “Don’t worry. I’m coming.”
- - -
To be safe, you send over the exact same thing you did before: a model of a Petrova line, and a model pointing out which star you’re from.
From your point of view, there’s no point. You did this originally because you didn’t share a language, you weren’t sure why the unknown aliens were here, and you wanted to communicate the star system you were from. But for Grace, this is still true. You will accommodate.
Even with all of your preparation, you are not prepared to see Grace. He appears in a pressurized suit a few minutes before your xenonite cylinder will hit his ship, emerging from the airlock. Where the Grace you remember was clumsy during spacewalks, especially at the beginning, this one moves from rungs with his tether with calm determination. When he’s in place, he secures himself against the hull and waits patiently.
Then he- waves.
You flinch out of shock. Before, Grace had only waved during his second spacewalk, hadn’t he? The change catches you off-guard. Still, you make the hull robot raise a claw in a wave too. Grace waves harder - you can almost imagine the shape of his smile - then catches the cylinder and retreats back to his vessel.
A few hours later, he sends you a chunk of his hull. You sing with excitement even though you were expecting it: he wants to meet.
- - -
The airlock wall’s mostly opaque, just like before, with only a few transparent panels between us - a few more than the first time, but I guess that’s just random chance.
I should’ve expected that I wouldn’t be able to see Rocky immediately, but something about it makes me feel hollow. This Rocky doesn’t know what types of xenonite I can see though. This Rocky doesn’t even know I can see.
It hits me hard, enough to make me wobble in the zero-g: this Rocky isn’t mine. This isn’t the Rocky that’s watched hundreds of movies with me, or the one that kept me alive when I was starving, or the one that watched me sleep. As similar as he looks, this Eridian is basically a stranger.
I shake the thought away. No, no- this is Rocky. My best friend. Even if all our memories never happened in this timeline, I’ll get to know him again. I will. I have to.
Suddenly, there’s a claw against the airlock wall. I can see him!
I should say something, or wave, or put my hand against his on the wall. Instead, I start crying.
“Leaking,” I hear Rocky say, sounding panicked. The particular tones he’s using make it clear that he’s talking to himself. Of course, there’s no reason for him to think I’d understand him right now. “Why leaking, question?”
I almost open my mouth to answer him before I remember he won’t be able to understand my language. It’s strange to realize Rocky was just as anxious as I was during our first meeting- but of course he is. From his perspective, he’s meeting an alien for the first time after decades alone! He doesn’t know anything about me, or what crying means! For all he knows, I’m dying!
That is, of course, exactly when Rocky says my name.
“Grace didn’t leak last time. Rocky stupid, Rocky changed something, Rocky going to mess this up and Grace will never like Rocky again and-”
“What,” I say dumbly.
Rocky falls silent. Through the paneling, I can see him shift closer, humming tonelessly in confusion.
“You know my name,” I say. My heart pounds as I begin to suspect something. If I’m wrong, Rocky will just be confused about the alien he doesn’t understand yet. But if I’m right… “You said you changed something.”
Rocky goes very, very still.
“Oh my god,” I say. I start crying harder. “Rocky?”
“GRACE!” Rocky screams, throwing himself against the xenonite in a way that would have freaked out past me but only makes current me deliriously happy. “Grace, you understand, question? You remember, question?”
“Wh- Yes!” I’m almost clawing at the xenonite between us in an effort to show him I understand. “How do you remember?”
“Eridian memory much better than human,” he teases, just like he’s done a thousand times before. I cry harder. “I remember all.”
“But you- Why would you- The wall isn’t clear!”
“Grace stupid human,” Rocky says gleefully, skittering back and forth. “Thought Grace would be suspicious. And Grace act like stranger too!”
I laugh aloud. He’s not wrong. “Sorry sorry sorry,” I say breathlessly. “I have enough food this time. And better equipment. We’ll get the taumoeba breeded in no time, and then we’ll head back to Erid.”
“Grace- Grace want to go back to Erid, question?”
It takes me a second to understand what he means. “Of course I want to stay with you, buddy! I missed you!”
Rocky squeals with excitement. I’m sure he’s doing something with his body from all the thuds I’m hearing from his end of the airlock, but I can’t tell. “Rocky, I want to see you. Can you come through-”
Rocky makes a mournful sound. “No big airlock.”
“No big airlock,” I echo, and whirl around to confirm it. “Seriously, Rocky?”
“Rocky not know Grace remember!”
I’m already running back to my side of the airlock. It’s easier than ever before, now that I know it’s a temporary separation. “Well, hurry up and make one!”
“Okay okay okay!”
After I’m back on the Mary, I can’t stop grinning. It feels like so long ago that I’d been set adrift in a universe without my memories or any idea of who I could trust. Now, Rocky and I have each other. All that’s left to do, really, is save the stars.
And of course, Rocky and I are experts at that.