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Ryland Grace does not remember most of the last year on his journey to Erid, but there are moments of it that come in flashes.
He remembers violent bouts of dry heaving that made it feel as if those protruding ribs really would break his fragile skin. He remembers a cold hard floor where he was force-fed, gently, by a three-fingered claw and lulled to sleep with a feeling of being protected. But mostly he remembers the slow agony of wanting so desperately to live being replaced with the innate longing for the peace that would come from his death.
These memories play over and over, mixed with a vague recollection of the feeling of momentum as Mary and its 2-man crew made their descent (fall, really) towards the surface. But the memory that comes to him now is more of a feeling than anything.
Hands. Everywhere there are hands: unwanted, aggressive, painful, humiliating. There is a pressure on his back, a sharp pain in his neck, and a desperate animalistic sobbing he imagines can only come from his own throat. There is a clammy coldness that follows a tugging sensation — his clothes are being removed, he realizes. He wants so desperately to protest, ask what’s going on, but he cannot bring his eyes to open. Cold water hits his bare skin with such a ferocious intensity that he shocks back to unconsciousness.
Briefly, the slumber from what he later will interpret as being propofol, is cut off by a sharp pain that brings tears to his eyes and a scream from his throat. He will later remember this as a catheter being inserted before his coma was induced. He will also recall, thankfully, that he was more heavily-sedated prior to the intubation process. If removing the tube was painful, he imagines the insertion would have been far worse.
There are hands on him now, he recognizes. But these hands do not grasp and claw at him, they gently perform whatever task they are trying to complete. They aren’t aggressive and violating; they are careful and clinical. Respectful? He ponders. They don’t even feel like hands really. They are warm, too warm, but decidedly inhuman in shape and size. But in this moment, he’s grateful for that. He can’t remember why, but he wants nothing to do with humanity and what they might do to him in his current state.
His clothes are removed again, but this time it comes as a relief. The air is humid, and the clothing is damp yet uncomfortably gritty. He feels a blanket placed over him: the quilt he hypothesizes. His mind starts to quiet again, and he drifts back into a deeper sleep.
The next time Grace regains lucidity he remembers the hands again: the human ones. He can feel them holding him down, he can anticipate the jab in his neck.
He jolts up, his eyes flashing open with a shout that mixes with a shrill whale-song. He turns to his left, the source of the singing, as something jumps back from him. His vision is blurred — where are his glasses? He can make out the shape of…not…Rocky? There is a Rocky-shaped blur beside him in a decidedly not-Rocky color. Lighter, taller, cool tones, not Rocky. His heart quickens as he realizes this. Where is Rocky? Who is that? Is Rocky alright? Is he alright?
A wave of anxiety warms up the back of his neck and he starts, or at least tries, to look around for an answer. Through his blurred-vision and groggy state he can deduce that he’s on The Hail Mary, atop of his cot, but there is far more xenonite than before. He is enclosed, he realizes, and suddenly feels trapped. As he goes to try and remove the quilt his whole body protests the movement with a sharp pain. He looks down at his hands, only his eyes allowing the movement, and sees them as skeletal and bruised, and a wave of nausea hits him. I am dying, he remembers.
Gently, the not-Rocky-but-Rocky-shaped blur beside him moves forward from where it jumped to. Briefly, Grace had forgotten it was there. But he can hear it now, warbling to him. If he was more coherent, he may have understood some of the words being said to him; but as for now, it’s just background noise as the dizzying nausea starts to consume him. Panic his brain supplies.
Not-Rocky gently puts one of their front limbs on Grace’s chest and the other behind his neck. There is a moment where Grace wants to fight, wants to run away from whatever is about to hurt him. Why am I afraid? Grace can’t remember, but he knows he’s terrified of something. But his body, as weak as it is, cannot protest as Not-Rocky lays him back down on his cot. It sings to him, trying to say something, and Grace can barely make out the Eridian word for “sleep.”
For a second Grace panics, sleep to an Eridian is dangerous. He must be in danger! But the dizziness and weakness of his mind overtakes his fear and his eyes close once more
The next time Grace wakes up it’s slowly. His eyes blink in a dimly-lit room. Still on Mary he deduces. Not-Rocky is still there, too. They hum softly to something on the other side of the xenonite bubble. If he squints, Grace can make out another Eridian figure there. The figure is near-black in color, and still not his friend.
He turns his head to get a better look, and Not-Rocky turns in his direction. They walk over to him and whistle something to him. I can’t understand you, he wants to say; but his mouth is dry and his body feels too heavy to attempt the effort. Instead, he watches blearily as Not-Rocky grabs something from a table that’s been pulled next to him and places it softly onto his head. It’s cold, and he shivers for a moment before his body adjusts and he gladly melts into the cooling embrace of what his brain now recognizes as a damp rag. A fever? He questions.
He swallows, blinking slowly as Not-Rocky carefully adjusts the quilt laid over top of him.
“Rocky?” His voice is small, scratchy, and barely his own. If he hadn’t formed the thought to ask the question, he wouldn’t have recognized that he said it himself.
Not-Rocky sways gently, nervously, before taking a step back and gesturing towards a corner of the xenonite bubble. In a smaller dome, like Rocky’s ball but bigger and immobile, a more Rocky-shaped blur lays atop of some sort of material. From this distance Grace can’t make it out, and he realizes his prescription must have changed over the last few years, because he can’t recall a time in which he’s ever felt so blind. That, or he really must have a high fever.
Not-Rocky sings out a long and low hum that Grace recognizes immediately: Rocky’s name.
“Is he okay?” He asks. Not-Rocky sways once more, and hums a tone that Grace can’t recognize.
It’s not a definitive yes, but it also wasn’t a definitive no, either. Grace knows those words, at least. Grace decides to categorize it as somewhere in between and that’s enough for him. Rocky is alive, and that’s enough. Still, he finds himself reaching towards his friend. He’ll never get to him, he’s clear on the other side of his bubble-room, but an intense urge to hold something and be held takes over.
Somewhere in his mind Grace recognizes this as odd, remembering his general dislike of prolonged touch and the knowledge that Rocky’s skin would burn him, but in his delirium he wants nothing more than to hug his friend. Instead, Not-Rocky places a limb atop of Grace’s hand.
Looking at them more clearly, Grace can see that they wear a protective suit similar to the one Rocky made him so he could visit the Blip A. This one, however, is much thinner and more flexible. He can feel the heat of Not-Rocky through it. If he squints, he can see how it’s nearly form-fitting, allowing Not-Rocky to grasp with their pincers to grab things.
Grace squeezes their hand? Claw? As Not-Rocky slowly moves Grace’s arm back down on his cot. They sing out to him, and once more Grace recognizes that he is being told to sleep. This time, however, he does not feel fear as he lets himself drift off.
This continues on and off for what Grace feels like is forever. He wakes up, confused, asks where Rocky is, and Not-Rocky does their best to soothe him. Every time, Rocky is in his dome on the other side of the bubble. Sometimes Rocky is also awake, and he slowly stands to greet Grace. This is almost immediately met by a sharp chastisement by Not-Rocky to which Rocky immediately lays back down.
Sometimes the two Eridians communicate lowly on the other side of the room, just quiet enough that Grace can’t really hear them. It sounds like white noise, but melodic. It’s easy to fall asleep to and he’s come to accept it as a strange kind of lullaby.
Once, Grace awoke to a strange noise he’d not heard before. Over the years he’d gotten used to the different vocalizations Rocky made, and for the most part was good at interpreting them even when the computer didn’t yet have a translation. Different pitches contained emotional inflections. The same series of notes heard in a higher octave had a different meaning in a lower one.
But this noise was broken, incomplete. It was similar to the sound Grace had learned to be laughter, but it was shorter. As he looked over, Not-Rocky was also inside of Rocky’s bubble. Not-Rocky was half draped over Rocky, who shook violently as the broken sounds whistled out of him. In response, Not-Rocky hummed gently but it didn’t seem to calm Rocky down.
Grace desperately wanted to understand, wanted to help, but as he tried to speak he was met with a sharp cramp in his chest that left him with a single tear falling from his eye from the strain. He fell asleep as the sounds become quieter, but did not stop.
This time, when Grace wakes up, Rocky is not on the other side of the room. He starts to panic again, and goes to try and sit up before a computer-generated voice cuts in.
“No. Grace stay.” Grace shift his head to his left where Not-Rocky comes towards him. Sitting on the table, the computer continues translating. “Grace understand, question?” They ask.
Grace simply swallows and nods.
“Good.” They nod at him in approval. “Grace in pain, question?”
Grace takes stock of himself. He is achy, almost like he’s been in a bad car wreck but is recovering or he’s got the worst case ever known of the flu. But it’s bearable. Grace vaguely recognizes that he is wearing clothing again, but he can’t remember when he was dressed. They are different clothes than before and are dry, so he deduces his fever must have broken at some point.
“I’m okay.” He says. Not-Rocky, if they could, seems to glare at him with disbelief. “Sore,” he admits.
“Will make pain medication for human Grace. Humans not send Grace enough.” Not-Rocky walks to the other side of Grace where some unknown technology sits. It looks to be some kind of microscope, but he can’t be sure. “Will take time. Apologies.”
“It’s okay.” He swallows again, “where’s Rocky?”
“Rocky tell Erid how Grace Rocky save Erid. Rocky too tired before, weak from journey. Rocky still weak, like Grace, but leaders do not listen. Very stupid.” They start to input something into the device.
“What is that?” Grace asks.
“Machine for see Grace cells. Learn more about humans, learn how help Grace. Need make food and medicine for help Grace. Grace very weak.” Their voice is lower than Rocky’s, Grace notices, and very soothing. They speak slower, and Grace wonders if that’s their normal cadence or if they’re trying to make it easier for Grace and the computer to understand.
“Thank you.” Grace settles his head back down on the pillow, still watching them work.
“No need thank Adrian. Adrian should do more. Adrian need thank Grace.”
Grace hums in acknowledgment before a realization washes over him: Adrian. Not-Rocky is Adrian! Not-Rocky is Rocky’s Adrian! Because of course they are. Who else would watch him and Rocky sleep? Who else would Rocky have entrusted to care for them both?
Suddenly, Grace feels very nervous. It feels like meeting the parents of his kids for the first time at a PTA meeting. He loves his kids, and he always wanted to make their parents love them too. Unfortunately, Dr. Grace was always better at making friends with his students than adults. Kids were honest and to the point, no hidden meanings and missed social cues. A kid just told you want they wanted and thought with a brutality that Grace had come to appreciate. Adults like to hide meanings in their words that Grace never thought to look for.
“ADRIAN!” Grace exclaims with an energy he didn’t know he still had. His brain is vibrating with nervousness and excitement, but his body is still too atrophied to comply. So instead of shooting out of bed like he wants to, he simply turns his head towards them.
Adrian jumps backward with a high-pitched howl that Grace can only interpret as a startled scream.
“Grace!” They exclaim back, “why Grace loud, question?”
“Sorry.” Grace laughs, “I’m just so excited to finally meet you. Rocky told me so much about you!”
Now what Grace doesn’t say is that Rocky only told Grace so much about Adrian because of his constant prodding about Rocky’s mate. During their last stretch of the journey, before the starvation and scurvy took hold, Grace found himself equally excited and nervous to get to Erid. Meeting an alien was nerve-wracking, but meeting a whole alien race? Far worse. He was supposed to represent humanity! His only saving grace was that he was saving their planet, which he hoped granted him some brownie points.
Of course, he realized that if he was taking Rocky back to Earth, it wouldn’t matter. He was almost certain that they’d take Rocky from him. They’d experiment on him, poke at him until he burst like the astrophage cell and then dissect and research whatever was left. But Grace was almost certain Eridians weren’t like that; at least he hoped. But more than anything, he was most nervous to meet Adrian.
Rocky didn’t understand this concept, being nervous to meet your best friend’s partner, but he indulged Grace as much as he could. He told Grace that Adrian was a scientist, so the two of them would be friends. Grace didn’t have the heart to tell Rocky he had plenty of science not-friends (enemies felt a little harsh) back on Earth, so he just nodded in agreement at this idea. Rocky spoke highly of Adrian, praising their intelligence and creativity. Adrian was a scientist, and although Eridian science didn’t fit into the same categories as human science, Grace best classified them as a biologist. But Adrian was also an architect. They did not build like Rocky did, they weren’t an engineer, but they were apparently a very skilled designer. It was one of the things Rocky said bonded them. They’d come up with an idea, and Rocky would execute it for them.
Seeing them now, Grace can’t help himself from being giddy. Although he and Rocky had saved the world, it feels like he was the one meeting a celebrity after Rocky’s high praises.
“Grace Adrian meet many days ago. Grace has been sick for long time.” Adrian is blunt, but there’s a whistle of amusement in their speech. If they could, Grace was certain they’d be smiling.
“Well, sure, but I didn’t know it was you!” He laughs, “but I’m sorry I startled you.”
“Is fine.” Adrian puts down the tools they’re working with. “Adrian happy Grace awake. Was worried Grace not wake up. Rocky will be happy.”
“I’m sorry to worry you both.” He laughs awkwardly, “I’m even more sorry I’m meeting you like this.”
“Why Grace sorry, question?” They tilt their carapace towards him with intrigue.
“Well normally, when you meet someone important, you dress better.” He regards his Cats shirt with mild disdain.
“Adrian have to remove Grace clothing. Clothing dirty. Grace have injuries. Dirty bad bad for injury. Adrian put different clothing back on Grace.“
“Right.” A familiar anxious heat crawls up his neck again. “Thank you, Adrian. Thank you for helping me.”
“Grace not need thank!” They stomp their foot with a pointed frustration.
“Yes I do! You saved my life. I just wish I had more to give than my thanks.” Grace wonders what the Eridian custom is for meeting someone important is. On Earth, it’s wine, flowers, dessert or something similar. But none of those things would be useful to Adrian, he thinks. Do Eridians have something like alcohol?
“Grace has already given Adrian everything.” They are quiet now, somber. Their speech more formal.
“Right,” Grace sighs. They saved the world, of course Adrian feels some sort of debt. Little do they know Grace didn’t even want to save the world himself and was thrown into his mission. The only reason he saved Erid was because of Rocky. “I know. Rocky and I saved Erid, but—“
“No!” They stomp again. “All Erid celebrates the saving of Erid! But many Eridians mourn…Adrian does not.” They whistle sadly, swaying awkwardly.
Oh. Grace suddenly understands. Rocky’s entire crew died. Of course everyone’s happy the plant is saved, but so many must miss those that passed. Adrian is the only one who gets to celebrate someone’s return.
“Rocky saved me, too.” Grace says softly.
“Adrian knows. Rocky told Adrian when Adrian tended Rocky’s wounds.” Grace winces as he remembers the burns on Rocky’s flesh and the days spent worrying his friend would not wake up.
“How is he?”
“Is different.” They settle down into a sit. It’s at this point that Grace really takes in their appearance: taller than Rocky, but not by much. They are a light green with darker green and brown marks. Almost the opposite of Rocky’s coloring.
“Adrian can fix Rocky injury, but cannot fix Rocky hurt. Understand, question?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I understand. He watched a lot of people die and he was alone for a really long time. He’s going to be different.”
“Want to fix. Cannot.” They look defeated, if a rock could look that way.
“You know, Rocky was worried you’d have changed, too.” Grace remembers with fondness Rocky’s nervousness about returning home. He was of course excited, but he knew that the mission had changed him. He was worried he’d be too different for Erid, but especially for Adrian. He was worried Adrian may have changed or moved on.
“Adrian changed. Have learned how to live without Adrian mate. Adrian learned to be alone.” They are silent for a long moment before quietly humming, “Do not like to be alone.”
Grace, shakily, reaches his hand out to Adrian. Adrian places their claw atop of his hand, and they regard each other for a long time.
“You’re not alone, Adrian.” He smiles, “he’s back. You’re okay.”
“Grace not alone, either.” Grace grimaces. The fear of not being accepted on Erid is reinforced with a flood of a lifetime of memories from Earthly rejection.
“Grace not alone!” Adrian stomps again, sensing Grace’s heartbeat getting faster.
“Grace have Rocky. Grace have Adrian. Grace have new home. Better than Earth home. Erid not send Grace to die.”
Grace blinks rapidly, realizing Rocky must have told Adrian about the suicide mission.
“Right. But I can’t survive here, Adrian.”
“Ugh!” Adrian makes a sound of exasperation that the computer can only translate as a sound of pure annoyance. “Adrian fix! What Grace think Adrian doing? Saving Grace to let Grace die on Erid, question? Already built biodome! Grace think Adrian do this for nothing, question? Adrian need Grace to get strong. Adrian can take more samples to test. Grace too weak for test. When Grace better, Adrian fix atmosphere for Grace. Adrian make home for Grace. Rocky help. All Erid help. Grace stupid if think Adrian Rocky let Grace die.”
Grace’s eyes start to well up with tears. They’re building me a home? Knowing that Earth would have killed Rocky hurts worse now knowing that Erid is working so hard to help him.
“Grace leak! Why Grace leak, question? Adrian stopped leak!” Adrian furiously starts fiddling with the equipment next to them, reading points of data they’ve collected on Grace.
“No no!” Grace laughs. “It’s good leaking. I’m happy.”
“Adrian not understand Grace. Human weird.”
“Humans are very weird. But so are Eridians.”
“Not on Erid. On Erid Eridians normal. Grace is alien.”
Grace laughs, like for the first time he’s realizing he’s the alien on this planet. Like he’s finally letting go of his human ideology of superiority.
“You’re right,” he smiles. “I’m sorry.”
“Adrian always right.” Adrian and Grace look to the other side of the bubble wall where Rocky stands. He’s wobbly now, and there is material wrapped around where Grace knows his burns to be. They appear wet, likely soaked with some sort of Eridian medication to heal the area.
“Rocky! You’re okay!” Grace ungraciously props himself up on an elbow, shaking under his own weight.
“Adrian will remember Rocky say this, next time Rocky Adrian have argument.” Adrian huffs before turning back to Grace. “Grace, lay down! Rocky not allowed to visit Grace if Rocky make Grace not listen! Adrian did not spend time saving Grace, caring for Grace, making food and medicine and biodome for Grace to make Grace sick again!”
“Sorry, sorry…” Grace lowers himself gently, clearly in no position for rebuttal.
The three of them discuss the plans for the biodome until Adrian declares that both of them need to rest. Rocky and Adrian argue for a bit that Adrian needs to sleep and needs someone to watch them, but it falls on deaf rock-ears. Adrian always right, Grace thinks bemusedly.
Adjusting to life on Erid is surprisingly easy. Grace of course has to learn how to walk again, doing rigorous hours of physical therapy so he can get back to his old self. Learning how to digest me-burger (as he so lovingly calls it) is also a challenge. But he’s alive, and he’s glad he’s alive. He has a support system, a family. He gets back to teaching and gets to do so to a wide array of ages. Adults and kids alike are thrilled to learn about Earth from their new alien neighbor.
When Adrian and Rocky have their first clutch of eggs, having waited until their home could be saved understandably not wanting to bring children into a world so uncertain, Grace is honored to be Uncle Ryland. Even more so that one of their children is named Grace. Which he happily leaked about for a totally normal amount of time, thanks.
Although he will not live as long as any of his new family members, he knows he will be remembered on Erid for far longer and in a far more positive and respected light than he ever did on Earth. He fondly hopes that his students remember him with the same love he has for them, but he is happy in knowing he at least helped them secure a future.
When Rocky tells him he can return to Earth, he is overcome with emotion. Did he want to go back? His students were grown and he didn’t have any other family he even remotely wished to see again. Turns out distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder when your childhood is tumultuous and your friends betray you for the sake of humanity.
The biggest relief comes when Rocky tells him he has all the time he needs to decide. 3 hours could never be enough time to say goodbye.
For now, he’s not sure if he will go back. For now, he’s found a new home to call his.