Chapter Text
♪♫ Grace suit on properly, question? ♩♩♬♪
I give Rocky the biggest thumbs-up planet Erid has ever seen. Flexible xenonite covers every inch of my body, plastered on over my EVA spacesuit (why build a new life support system when I’ve already got one, right?). The result is bulky, unwieldy, and makes me waddle like a penguin with every step.
I couldn’t be happier.
I’m going outside the dome today for the first time. Outside the dome! I am going wander around honest-to-goodness Erid instead of watching through a layer of see-through xenonite. Holy moly. I wish I could wear something more momentous for the occasion but 1) Stratt was not foresighted enough to pack me a suit in case of alien meet ‘n greets and 2) the aforementioned “EVA-covered-in-xenonite” getup that I need to survive.
“Ready to go, bud.”
Rocky gives me his own thumbsupsidedown and cycles the airlock. I can’t stop my hands shaking up and down with excitement—and a little nervousness. Like I said, I’ve never been outside the dome. There’s a lot that can go wrong. Which is why, I tell myself sternly, Rocky has a supply of liquid xenonite, and Adrian rumbles along beside us. If something does go wrong with the suit—and that’s a pretty big if with how thorough Rocky is—Rocky is prepared for repair, and Adrian to ferry me back to my own atmosphere. I’m as safe as a human doing an EVA on an alien planet with an atmosphere of ammonia can be.
The door hisses open. I’ve already been in Erid atmosphere for about a minute now thanks to the airlock cycle, but it still feels like a huge step when I exit the dome. My cane clacks at my side, the sound muffled by the layers around me.
I switch my flashlight on with my free hand. Right now, the steady glow of the dome behind me is enough to see by, but I don’t want to fumble when I leave its aura. I twist around to look back at my home. It’s… surreal, looking at it from this side.
“Wow.” I pace a few steps around the perimeter, bumping my shoulder against the dome. The xenonite of my suit chimes pleasantly against that of the dome. “The light pollution from this thing must be insane.”
♬♩♩Not understand term ♩♪♫
“Joking. Even if you guys could see, your atmosphere is too thick for light pollution to mean anything anyway.
♫♫Grace explain term anyway request♫♩♩ Adrian chimes in.
Right. We’ve discussed pollution before, and they’re an ecologist. Even though it was a joke, any kind of mention of the word probably puts them on edge. Not like there’s a lot of precedent for giant glowing domes in Eridian ecological history.
“Uh… well, light pollution is something that happens when there are too many lights on. It sort of… fogs up the sky with a haze and makes it difficult to see the night sky. It can also mess with some nocturnal animals, or even a diurnal animal’s sleep cycle. It’s not like other kinds of pollution,” I assure them, “It pretty much goes away the moment all the lights turn off.”
♫♬Oh. Lights turn off for human sleep cycle anyway ♩♪♫
“Yeah. Like I said, it was a joke. It’s probably not affecting much here.”
I take another step. Both Rocky and Adrian let out a warning chime, but I don’t know why until my foot makes contact with the ground.
I’ve shut my hand in doors before, plenty of times. Every time, I have a split second to see the door closing too quickly, just enough time to know that it’s about to hurt and there’s nothing I can do to move in time. Then, a pinch.
This is exactly like that, except instead of a pinch, it’s a spine-shaking crunch when a slab of ground swings up on either side of my leg, revealing lethally sharp spikes just before the slabs slam together. With my leg trapped between them.
The white light of the dome explodes across my eyes. I hear a wailing sound—not Rocky or Adrian’s tones, so who—
Ah. Me.
My back presses against the EVA suit. My free leg kicks once, twice, uselessly. It only shakes me, sending a whole new wave of torn nerves up my trapped leg. My screaming breaks into messy sobs.
Adrian and Rocky swarm around my trapped leg. Adrian grips the edges of the trap—because what else could it be—but Rocky trills anxiously. My flailing brain can’t catch a hold on the chords, and my translator struggles to pick up over the sounds of my screaming and crying.
♫♫Leave. Dig. Depressurize.♫♩♩
Adrian bobs up and down, and their claws move earth away from the trap—digging it up, I realize. Rocky pats the top of my suit, making soothing, nonsensical noises. I can’t feel his hand through the layers, but I try to match my breathing to the movement.
It breaks apart again the moment Adrian shifts the slab of stone and my leg erupts in a volcano of nerves. I gag—my hands paw uselessly at my front, trying to turn my shirt into a vomit bag to no effect.
Adrian scoops me up.
Mercifully, I pass out.
The white light of the dome presses against my eyelids. My arms squish uncomfortably against my sides. When I open my eyes, I see Adrian has me pinned against their body with one arm. Another hand carefully, dutifully, holds the massive trap aloft in the air, keeping my leg elevated.
Beneath Adrian, Rocky runs around in circles, chirping instructions. I hear Adrian rumble that if Rocky does not move, then Adrian will end up tripping and crushing me. I hope they’re joking. I can’t tell if it’s the pain still radiating from my trapped leg, or if my suit has started to depressurize around the holes, but my head spins.
The all-encompassing white light from the dome does not help. It’s like being trapped in a hellish version of heaven, all bright white lights and what sounds like singing around me. Except that I understand the singing, and it is my best friend saying some very rude words while he struggles with the airlock door. Not very angelic of him.
Hiss
I am set ever-so-gently on the ground. I can’t help but feel bad when a cry of pain escapes anyway. Again, my vision flickers out for a few seconds. Rocky and Adrian are suited up now, and the airlock cycles again. Adrian moves to rip the trap open.
“No—” The word escapes in a gasp. I grasp desperately for Adrian’s hands. “No—”
♬♩♩Adrian help Grace, statement. Remove trap♩♪♫
“No—Adrian—” I blink, hard, trying to clear the pain enough to form a coherent thought. “Armando—first. Bleed out.”
♫♬Armando first,♬♫ Rocky echoes.
Adrian picks me up again, trilling a distressed noise that matches my groan. Screaming is too hard now. All I can do is curl into a miserable ball. I can’t even do that right, I think dizzily when my injured leg scrapes against Adrian’s suit.
Distantly, I hear my door slam into the wall. This time, I’m lowered onto the kitchen table. I barely have time to think gross before Armando whirrs overhead. Adrian tears the trap open easily. I thought I was too tired to scream. Apparently not the case.
My back arches, and my fingernails tear uselessly at the hard surface underneath me. Rocky and Adrian are careful, so careful, when removing the suit, but even the tiniest movement makes my whole body shudder in agony. I miss Armando’s diagnosis, but a mask drops down from his many arms.
“Propose immediate anesthetic,” the robot drones, “Stitches and bone-setting to follow.”
I don’t want to be awake for this. I already don’t want to be awake, let alone while needles jab in and out of my skin and callous robot hands push my bones back into place. The mask is easier—kinder than a syringe. It still makes me shiver uncontrollably. Although that could be the blood loss.
Rocky’s hand touches mine. ♬♩♩ Rocky watch Grace sleep. Will let nothing bad happen to Grace. Statement♩♪♫
“Thanks,” I croak. The mask slides on over my mouth. I hear the hiss of gas.
“Dr. Grace, please count backwards slowly from 100.”
“100. 99. 98. 97…”
I drift off somewhere around 90. Lightweight.
Xxx
When I wake up, the dome’s lights are in the middle of their dimming cycle. The light turns a warm, reddish orange, washing through the windows. The mask is gone. So is the hard surface of the kitchen table, replaced by soft pillows and blankets.
“Rocky?” I mutter. I think I’ve been breathing through my mouth—my tongue is shriveled, and every breath rasps over a dry throat.
♫♫Grace awake! ♬♫ Rocky’s carapace pops up over the edge of my bed. ♫♫Grace feel okay question?♩♩♬
“Little thirsty. Groggy. But—okay.” My leg doesn’t hurt at all, actually. “What did Armando give me? After the anesthetic, I mean.”
♩♪♬Hm. It say… m-o-r-p-h-i-n-e♩♪♫
Yeah that’ll do it. That sly bot has been holding out on me. “What happened? What was that?”
♩♪♬Trap,♩♪♫ Adrian rumbles. I jump. I didn’t notice them on my other side. Unlike Rocky’s constant movement and energy, Adrian tends to settle and sit quietly. Sometimes I can’t even tell when they’ve fallen asleep. ♩♪♬It was a trap for—♩♪♫ they say something I’ve never heard before. ♩♪♬Predator-Parasite,♩♪♫ they clarify, ♩♪♬Usually stay in colder climates. Migrating right now, so traps set out to keep them away from Eridian settlements. Traps are strong, to break through tough hide. Broke xenonite suit♩♪♫
♫♫Grace walk right into one, stupid, statement. Did not see?♩♪♫♩♩♬
“Uh—no.” The trap still sits in the corner. I look away quickly, nauseous at the sight of my own blood on it. “It’s the same color as the ground!”
♫♬Yes. Same material as ground, so predators not sense. Spikes make different texture so Eridians not walk into it on accident. Grace no see spikes, stupid, clumsy. Break Grace leg. Fragile. ♩♪♫
“Not fragile,” I argue, “Adrian just said it could break through xenonite! Not my leg’s fault.”
♫♫True. Still stupid, clumsy♩♪♫
I throw a pillow at him. “Tell me more about the predator-parasite please?” I ask Adrian, “It hunts… Eridians?” Whatever makes 300+ pound Eridians with exteriors made of solid rock nervous enough to set traps is something I do not want to run into. I’d rather tangle with the traps again.
They hum an affirmative. ♩♪♬Hunt us for food sometimes. Mostly when Eridians sleep, if not watching close, inject Eridian joints with…♩♪♫ they hesitate, trying to figure out a word in our shared vocabulary. ♫♬…Egg-liquid… Egg-liquid seep into Eridian skin. Destabilize. Change structure. Break off into new predator, predator drink Eridian blood and leave Eridian for dead. Bad, bad, bad.♩♪♫
“Bad,” I agree. The word Xenomorph hovers on the tip of my tongue to name it, but a different memory hits. It happens less and less these days, but every so often, I’m struck with what seems like a divine revelation, usually over something stupid.
This time, it’s a conversation with Linda. If I could be accused of having my head in the clouds, she always had hers buried in the dirt. Literally. Hazards of dating a geologist. I vaguely remember her excitement over the semi-precious stone—or, as she’d informed me, really a collection of minerals. A predator stone. A rock formed by water and pressure forcing its way into a weaker stone’s structure and changing it into something new.
“Serpentine,” I name the predator. What Adrian described sounds like an unholy union between venom and parasitic egg-laying anyway, so the snakey name fits nicely. I sit up more fully, shaking some of the grogginess away. Rocky and Adrian propped my injured leg up on pillows when they moved me, which gives me a world-class view of my new cast. It’s not made from plaster, instead Xenonite. Which makes sense, but my hips and back already ache at the prospect of lugging it around while my leg heals.
“So—my leg was broken, but did the spikes, uh…”
♫♬Spikes stab, Rocky confirms, Grace bleed, bleed, bleed. Rocky make windows in cast so Armando can treat♩♪♫ He points to little shutters in the cast. I guess when you have a material as strong as Xenonite, the structural integrity of the cast won’t be too compromised by a few holes. Rocky grasps one of the shutters. ♫♫Want to see?♩♩♬
“No. No, no, no thank you.” I do not want to see my skin all torn up and swollen with stitches. No thanks.
♬♩♩Rocky also make crutches for walking. Armando say no weight on leg, but Grace can leave bed after today♩♪♫
“Thanks, bud. Sorry I ruined our big day.”
Rocky lets out a raspberry. ♫♫Grace not need apologize. Serpentine apologize for having big stupid migration during Grace first trip♩♪♫
Adrian lets out an amused sound that I’ve come to realize is the Eridian equivalent of “making a face.” ♬♩♩Adrian take trap out now that Grace awake♩♪♫ they say instead of commenting on Rocky’s declaration, ♬♩♩Set it back up♩♪♫
I shift up, grabbing for the crutches. “Can I come see?” I gotta admit, the trap has my interest. I haven’t seen much that can break through xenonite. I wonder if it’s just the force, or if the material of the trap has anything to do with it.
Rocky shoves them out of reach. ♫♬Armando say stay in bed♩♪♫
“Come on,” I wheedle, “If I know where they’re set up, then I won’t walk into one on accident.”
♫♫Watch out better. Or rest now, show later♫♩♩
Alright. Time to resort to high-stakes bargaining tactics. “Please. Please. Please. Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease—”
♫♫Fine!♬♫ Rocky trills, putting his claws over his carapace in a mimicry of covering his ears, ♫♫Grace go tear up leg and Rocky say I told you so when Armando have to sew up again.♬♫
Adrian chatters a laugh, and scoops me up, depositing me on their back. ♬♩♩Will carry to the edge of dome. Watch from there♩♪♫
“Thank you.”
Despite his arguing, Rocky follows the two of us, carrying my brand-new crutches with him. He gets stuck in the door for a moment before managing to rotate the crutches lengthwise. I think I’m hiding my amusement well, but he waves the crutch at me.
♬♩♩Rocky can go back inside, let Grace hop around on one leg, statement. Will be funny♩♪♫
“Pft—yeah, it definitely will. Until Adrian drags my broken, bleeding body back inside and then you’ll be sorry.”
♫♬Serve Grace right♩♪♫
Adrian stops unceremoniously at the edge of the dome. Despite his threats, Rocky holds the crutches steady for Adrian to lower me onto. They head out of the dome with the trap, and I watch them nestle it back into the ground, opening it up. I tap the barrier, wobbling uncertainly on one crutch.
“How does it work?”
Adrian points at the spikes. ♫♬Eridians avoid spikes, know the texture means trap. Serpentine also avoid the spikes, but usually run between plates. Plates on pressure trigger They smack their front two hands together. Grace see what happens♩♪♫
My leg aches in sympathy for the buggers. “Grace see what happens,” I agree.
Something moves in the corner of my eye, and my attention snaps to it. It’s—I’ve never seen anything like it. And yeah, sure, I should be used to that, living on an alien planet and all, but I haven’t seen anything like this in my time on Erid.
It’s a bit like a salamander—too long for its number and length of legs, in my opinion. It has six of those legs, horrible, stubby little things that end in three-fingered toes with wickedly-sharp claws. It doesn’t have eyes, like pretty much any creature on Erid, but I spot several of what I think are ear holes dotting all over its mottled-green back. The whole thing is about as long as my arm, and twice as thick.
It rushes Adrian, jaws open. Oh wow—it doesn’t have a tongue, just a single protruding tooth. “Hey!” I warn, smacking the glass again, “Adrian, behind you!”
Adrian turns, and with expert precision, grabs the thing in its front claws. One hand clamps around the back of its head, while the other wraps the rest of its body around their first claw and secures it by the tail. Right. Ecologist. Used to catching animals and being outside. I shouldn’t be surprised.
Rocky squeals. ♩♪♬Disgust, disgust, disgust. Adrian squish♫♩♩
Instead, Adrian holds the thing up to the barrier, showing me. ♫♬Serpentine,♩♪♫ they tell me. ♫♫See fang, for injecting Eridians?♩♩♬ They twist their arms, gently turning it so I can see different angles. ♩♪♬Very strong jaws, pierce through exoskeleton if cannot find joints. Thin, thin exoskeleton, but not as thin as Grace. Help sneak up on Eridians, soften approach. Not as many vibrations. Why need cooler climate, because exoskeleton so thin. Still not as cool as Grace climate♩♪♫
Sometimes, since Adrian is so much quieter and calmer than Rocky, I forget that there’s a reason the two of them are partners. They’re both huge, weird, nerds. Luckily, that means I fit right in with them. I press my face up against the xenonite, studying the creature. “Whoa.”
♪♫♩Adrian kill,♫♩♩ Rocky commands, ♫♫Kill disgust evil serpentine♫♩♩
Adrian releases the thing’s tail, still holding its jaw firmly between their claws. ♩♪♬Not a danger, Rocky not need worry♩♪♫ They rear back, and before I quite comprehend what they’re up to, hurl the Serpentine. The poor creature goes flying, and scrambles away the moment it hits the ground. Adrian slips back into their suit and into the dome.
“Why didn’t you kill it?” I ask. I have a hunch, but I don’t want to assume.
Adrian moves their carapace in a shrug. ♬♩♩Not need to. Not dangerous to Adrian, Rocky, Grace. Serpentine dangerous for Eridians, yes, but important. Part of food chain. Traps necessary, close to cities. Kill to protect, but not kill to kill♩♪♫
“Makes sense.” I might specialize in single-cell organisms rather than the wider ecosystem, but I’ve spent enough time with macrobiologists and ecologists to understand the sentiment. “What do you do if someone does get bit?
Adrian whistles, a long, low, sad note. ♩♪♬Go to Eridian doctor. Flush joints, sometimes cut out piece of exoskeleton. Hurts, takes time. Can recover, but risky♩♪♫
Rocky taps his claws together nervously. ♫♫Which is why should kill when near dome. No more talk about Serpentine. Time for long sleep♫♩♩
“It’s that time already?”
♩♪♬Yes, yes. Seven Grace earth day cycles. Time for long sleep♩♪♫
Long sleep. When I first got Erid—after I recovered from starvation, that is—I tried to get back into regular human sleep patterns. The dome follows a 24 hour light cycle, with about 12 hours dark and 12 hours light. I thought, great, I’ll get a healthy eight hours. Turns out, being in three times the amount of gravity wears a guy down. So, instead of 8-10 hours, my body now demands I spend at least half my time resting, if not completely asleep.
The good news is, this is a little more in line with Eridian sleep patterns, since they typically sleep anywhere from 10-15 hours. I am sleeping as much as a healthy Eridian. Which makes sleeping in shifts with Rocky and Adrian a lot easier. It also makes it a lot easier for me to hang out with either Adrian or Rocky without needing all three of us, and vice versa for them. Keeps the balance in our relationship nicely. While they’re a lot more stringent about the “watching each other sleep” thing, I’ve come to rely on it as well. I don’t exactly need it to sleep, but it’s comforting, and helps me fall asleep faster. Like a kid with their teddy bear at night. Except obviously definitely more mature than that.
Rocky and Adrian both tend to sleep on the lower end of that spectrum, usually 10 hours. After enough time, though—about 7 of my 24-hour cycles, and close to 34 of their 5-hour cycles—they wear out and want to sleep for longer, or spend less time awake between sleep periods. Hence, the Long Sleep. Or as I call it in my head, the weekend. Typically, Rocky goes to bed a couple of hours before me on those days, but he must have stayed awake longer to make sure I was alright, I realize with a twinge of guilt. No wonder he’s a little touchy.
So, Rocky goes to bed a couple hours before me. Then I go to sleep, and Adrian watches. Rocky sleeps his 10 hours, and in the wee hours of the morning, he wakes up to watch and Adrian goes to sleep. We call it the Long Sleep, because when I finally wake up in the morning only a few hours later, Rocky goes right back to sleep. And Adrian is out pretty much until I’m ready go to back to sleep 12 hours later. Then they take over. Rocky wakes up sometime during my sleepy time and that’s the end of the Long Sleep. It’s not an exact science—sometimes someone will wake up early, or sleep late. But generally, it’s a pretty sound system for getting Adrian and Rocky 15 hours of sleep and me my 12 without anyone going to sleep with no one watching.
Except for today. Rocky and I settle in together, and I touch Adrian’s arm. “Hey—if Rocky’s not up before your sleep time, just wake me early, okay?”
They wave a claw. ♫♫Need your rest. Injured. Adrian stay up a few hours♩♪♫
“No way. I’m the only one here who can wake up on demand—might as well take advantage of it. Besides, I spent enough time asleep when I was sedated. I’ll be fine.”
Adrian agrees. Despite my insistence, I’m out like a light the minute I stop resisting the pull of sleep. Adrian doesn’t wake me early, but the ache in my leg does. Adrian watches, unphased, while I extract myself from under Rocky’s arm. It’s funny—I don’t need to worry about my movements waking up Rocky or Adrian. Once they’re dormant, nothing can wake them. It’s the whole point behind the “watching each other sleep” habit. But I still wince when my crutches clack carelessly against the ground, as if I’m being too loud. I keep my voice in a whisper, too.
“Armando, painkillers.”
When the arm drops down, I brace myself, expecting a syringe. But instead, it holds a small cup with little red pills. No more morphine for me. Better than nothing. I swallow the pills with a gulp of water, making a face.
♫♫Grace okay, question?♩♩♬
“Fine,” I call back, hobbling to my bed. I glance at the clock. 2 AM. “Adrian, I don’t think Rocky’s going to wake up for a while. Why don’t you go to sleep and I’ll take over?”
♫♫Too early for Grace to be up♩♪♫
Yeah, okay. 2 is a little early. But I’m waiting for these painkillers to kick in anyway. “I’ll stay in the bed until six, I just won’t sleep, okay? And I’ll have to take it easy today because of my leg, so I won’t move around too much after sunrise, either.”
Adrian rumbles consent, and slowly lowers themselves down. Their suit hisses, and the climate adjuster inside shifts to cool down. In response, the air around them warms up as their suit releases the excess heat into my atmosphere. Rocky’s suit does the same thing, but he’s so much smaller than Adrian that I barely notice the temperature change in comparison.
I keep my promise to Adrian and stay in bed until six, picking a book from my laptop to read for those four hours. I absentmindedly tap on the top of Rocky’s suit while I read, differently-sized panels making distinct sounds if I hit them with my nails. The dull chimes ring through the house until my morning alarm goes off. Six-o-clock.
Armando hands me coffee, and I rummage around in the refrigerator for a breakfast meal. The nutrition and cloning team’s latest experiment is bacon. I wiggle a floppy strip. Definitely undercooked—although some people like it that way. I’m more of a crunchy bacon guy myself, so I stick it in the oven and take my coffee to the window to watch the sunrise.
Oh, I know I know. It’s not really a sunrise. Erid’s atmosphere isn’t see-through enough for that. But the dome lights turn on in a reddish-orange haze, slowly brightening until about 8, when they reach their full white brightness. The water turns that color, too, glinting in the light. The team hasn’t figured out clouds yet—although I posited a very simple cloud-in-a-jar model that could be done using the dome as a jar, for some reason, the team was against using my habitable zone as a middle-school science experiment—but I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time now that they’ve gotten an ocean in here. Once they do, I’m going to request fat clouds in the morning and evening for the sunrise and sunset cycle to light up and make glow in those golden and purple puffs that made the early-morning bike rides to school on earth worth it.
The timer on the oven dings, breaking my half trance, I go back for my bacon. Mmmm, mebacon. Crisped to perfection. I munch absentmindedly, keeping an eye on Adrian and Rocky from the kitchen. Long Sleeps are awesome for some alone time. I have 12 whole hours without anyone to talk to me. Thing is, I’ve never been great at being alone, and being alone in an enclosed space is even worse. The biggest challenge for me is finding something to do for all that time. I can only read or watch something on the computer for so long before I get bored.
Today, I think I’ll practice my Eridian. Rocky’s set up three organs for me—one in the classroom, one here in my home, and one at the airlock. The one here is mostly for practice, since I understand enough Eridian, and Rocky and Adrian enough English, to get by.
I pull up my translation software. Eridians communicate with way more notes than I can hear. So there are a ton of keys on this organ that make absolutely no sound to me, and have the potential to insult someone’s parents if I press them. It also turns out, a lot of the words I thought I knew from Rocky include a bunch of the notes I can’t hear. There’s not much I can do to understand those kinds of words without incredibly sensitive microphones, but I can practice making them.
Rocky, Adrian and I have been working on developing a standard translation. We invented a new human-based musical staff to add them in—it now ranges from A-flat all the way to S-sharp. Rocky and Adrian “write” the music—telling me what notes in what order and chord make a word. We’ve got a pretty good dictionary going by now.
Now…. For Eridian quizlet. That’s something I developed on my own. It reads and shows me an English word from our dictionary (shuffled, of course), and I try to remember how to play it. After a few seconds, it shows me the sheet-music translation. A few seconds after that, it plays the word from the translation software. The idea is to up my reaction time to the point where the music comes naturally.
In practice, I stink at it.
I crack my knuckles, do some “sound word” warm-ups (Like sight words in reading! I think the play on words is funny. Rocky and Adrian don’t get it), and finally hit play on the game. Word after word flashes up at me. I’m just a second too slow on most of them, and the sound of the translation software mingles with my organ. After about an hour, I stop and shake out my fingers. Great. Two hours down. Ten to go.
Lesson planning takes up the next two hours. Even when I’m only teaching one class, it takes twice as long to plan as it did on earth, because I translate the whole thing into sheet music. How’s that for culturally responsive teaching, district seminars? Every day I wake up grateful that Erid doesn’t require professional development classes to stay a teacher. Truly, a higher species than humans.
I roll my chair back and forth between my desk and bed, mindful to keep my injured leg propped up. I practice teaching my lesson plan to Adrian and Rocky’s unconscious forms. They are great students during the lecture part. Absolutely awful when it comes to the response section.
After a few minutes of absent-minded spinning, I make my way back to the organ. This time, I play the lecture part of my lesson plan until the translation software reads back a perfect match. The more interactive parts, I’ll leave for day of, although I practice a few quick responses, and some generic praise.
Armando hands me more painkillers. I eat lunch. Wander the downstairs, always with a view of Rocky and Adrian. Read more of my book. Do some arm exercises—I’ll be skipping leg day for a while. Sit with my chin in my hand and wish something would happen.
At 5 o’clock, I get my wish. Someone knocks on the door, and I jump to make sure I’m in the same room as Rocky and Adrian. Mostly I just need to keep an eye on them to feel safe, but other Eridians find it off if I’m not directly on top of them.
“Come in!” I call.
Three Eridians from the nutrition team enter, two of them carrying a big box between them. One takes over watching Rocky and Adrian so that I can go with the others to the kitchen and they can explain what they’ve brought.
It’s mostly familiar foods. Nutrient slushies that are synthetically sweet. Caffeine. A few variations of meat. However, they explain excitedly, they’ve brought something new. They believe they’ve synthesized an approximation of orange juice.
♬♩♩Amaze,♬♫ I play on the organ, ♩♪♬Good for breakfast, thank you!♬♫ I get plenty of Vitamin C from the nutrient slushies, of course. I don’t have to worry about scurvy anymore. But it’s nice to have new flavors, and orange juice with breakfast used to be a favorite of mine on the weekends.
They chatter their appreciation for my excitement, give me a few more instructions, and leave, taking their empty box with them. I’m back with Adrian and Rocky and my own thoughts. I meal plan, make sure I space out the meat so I’m getting variety. Mmmm, I can practically taste the orange juice. And I smell… cat pee?
Ammonia. I dismiss the smell. No amount of repressurizing and atmosphere acclimation completely gets rid of the smell when I get a delivery, unfortunately. I open a window to let the smell air out into the wider dome where eventually the filters will take it out.
Instead, now I smell ammonia and smoke.
Panic takes over. I stumble back into the bedroom, snatching up duct tape and practically falling over in my attempt to get to Rocky and Adrian. I check all over their suits, searching for a leak. But there’s nothing. No holes. And the smell is actually less strong in here.
The nutrition team, then. Had one of them managed to puncture their suits? I hobble my way outside, scanning the dome for any signs of a downed Eridian. If one of them did have an accident, though, the other two have already managed to drag them out of the dome. I breathe a sigh of relief, swinging back inside. Crisis averted. I just wish the smell… would go…
Mottled green serpentine poises over Rocky.
I’m scared of bees. If one entered the room back on Earth, I’d cower and avoid it until it flew away. One year, though, I had a student who was deathly allergic to the insects. If one stung her, we had minutes to use her EpiPen, and we’d have to call the hospital afterwards. The one time a bee had managed to get into my classroom that year, I vaulted over my desk and squashed it without a second’s hesitation.
A similar wave of adrenaline crashes over me now, and I’m across the room in a few strides. I drag one crutch back, and in a swing that would make my 3rd grade little league coach proud, smack the creature hard enough to send it flying into the wall. A long fang is left behind, sticking out of Rocky’s suit. Ammonia hisses from the puncture, making my eyes water.
“I got you, I got you, I got you,” I gasp, wrapping his limb in duct tape. My fumbling fingers fail to tear it three times. The ammonia stops leaking, leaving me coughing and rubbing my eyes. This is a temporary fix. I need to—
Something slams into me from behind, burning hot, billowing smoke, and digging claws into my shoulders and back. A weird, automatic part of my brain takes over. I stop. I drop onto my back. And I roll.
It burns like hell, and those claws scrabble, digging gouges into my skin. I scream, which makes me inhale smoke, and my scream turns into phlegmy coughs. But the serpentine lets go, hissing in confusion, and scuttling away. It twists around, looking for a new way to attack, but I don’t give it the chance. A hoarse battle cry scrapes out of my throat, and I raise my crutch slamming it down on the serpentine’s head again and again and again until it stops moving.
I’m left standing, breathing heavily and shaking. The crutch falls from my fingers, and I cough. Uncontrollably. Repeatedly. I stumble away from the Serpentine.
“Adrian,” I gasp, shaking their arm, “Adrian, please. Wake up, I need you, Rocky needs—” I break off coughing again. They don’t move. Of course not—they won’t wake up until their body is ready. I know that. But Rocky needs help now, and I can’t carry him.
The radio. I have a connection to outside Erid. Like a house phone, sort of. I click the button. “Need help,” I say desperately, keeping my sentences simple, “Rocky need help. Hurt.”
No response. Of course not—Rocky and Adrian are both with me. Why would anyone need to man the radio with two perfectly capable Eridians in the dome? If I want to reach Erid, I’ll need to get out to my airlock organ, and hope the nutrition team is still close enough to hear a distress call. I fit my crutches back under my arms and push myself up towards the door.
My back and shoulders scream in protest, and black spots dance in front of my vision. A whimper escapes. I squeeze my eyes shut and take another step. Now that I know what it feels like, I can—
I can collapse to the floor, is what I can do. My stomach heaves. I thump my head desperately against my knees. “Come on, Ryland. Rocky needs you. Rocky—” I manage to haul myself back up again, but this time, the coughing gets me. I crawl towards Armando. Okay. I can’t help Rocky if I don’t help myself. I drag myself onto the table
“Morphine,” I gasp, “Please, now.” If I can dull the pain, maybe I can at least make it far enough to ask for help.
“Please remain still for medical examination.”
“No, no, just the morphine, I just need to—”
“Patient exhibits chemical and thermal burns, and lacerations on shoulders and back. Coughing indicates chemical damage to lungs. Recommend: oxygen. Sedation to minimize discomfort and movement during cleaning and treatment of wounds.”
“No, no, no. I can’t be sedated. I just need pain meds, I’ll—”
“Pain medication will be administered after procedure to reduce continuing discomfort.”
I groan. Of course he doesn’t get it. “No—no procedure, no sedation, just—”
“Request consciousness during procedure. Topical anesthetic will be provided.”
“Wha—topical anesthe—yes, yes! Do that!”
“Right away, Dr. Grace.”
A cool mist descends over my skin. I try to roll off the table. “Haha, thank—” The arms catch me and drag me back. Rats.
“Please remain still for medical attention, or previous recommendation will be enacted.”
“No! I need to—”
“Please remain still for medical attention.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a needle. I freeze. The sedation will take too long, longer than just letting Armando do his thing. I bury my face in the table, gritting my teeth. “Fine. Fine! No sedation, I’ll stay still.”
It’s easier said than done. The topical anesthetic helps, but little groans and gasp still escape when Armando flushes out the wounds and sews up the new scratches. The clock tells me it doesn’t take long, but it feels like forever before he wraps clean bandages around me.
“Return for changing of dressings daily. Recommend patient avoid heavy lifting or strenuous activity for one week. Recommend complete bed rest for—”
“Yep, thanks, Armando.”
I roll off the table, crawling back to my crutches and wobbling to my feet. It still hurts to take a step, but the pain is manageable now. I shove my laptop into a bag, sling it over my neck, and swing towards the door.
A piercing shriek interrupts me, making my teeth rattle and ache in my jaw.
Adrian’s awake.
The bottom of their carapace tilts towards the corpse of Serpentine on the ground, while they continue to scream, a sound of pain and anger.
“It’s okay,” I shout, covering my ears, “Adrian, it’s dead, it’s—”
They lift one claw and bring it down on the Serpentine’s head in a sickening crunch. When they lift their claw back up, the top third of the thing’s body is shattered stone. I wince.
“Adrian—”
♩♪♬Bite Rocky, hurt Rocky!♬♫ They pick Rocky up, cradling his unconscious body in their arms.
“I know—we have to get him to a hospital, I’m so glad you’re—”
They play a note that’s different—a furious, betrayed note. ♫♫Why Grace not watch sleep? Why Grace let bite Rocky?♩♩♬
The words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving me gasping for air just as much as when I inhaled the smoke. Adrian seems to take my silence as an admission of guilt, and barges out the door, running for the edge of the dome.
I recover enough to grab my crutches again and hobble out after them. My broken steps are nowhere near fast enough to keep pace with Adrian’s enormous strides, and they’re already on the later half of the airlock cycle by the time I catch up, panting for air. I put one fist against the barrier.
“Adrian—I’m sorry—I tried—”
♬♩♩Adrian take Rocky to doctor,♩♪♫ they say. They sound calm now, but it’s an eerie sort of calm. An angry sort of calm. ♫♬Grace stay here. Statement.♩♪♫
They’re just saying what we both already know needs to happen. I can’t go with them. But the way they say it makes tears prick at my eyes. They’re not saying it as a request. I’d even feel better if they were giving me an order. But they’re just… talking about me like I’m not there. Before I can think of anything else to say, the airlock opens, and they’re gone.
I slump against the dome, all the panicked energy drained from my body. This isn’t how today was supposed to go. I’m supposed to be falling asleep right around now, Adrian watching Rocky and I. Instead, I’m outside, Adrian’s mad at me, and Rocky’s… Rocky’s…
I bury my face in my arms and let the tears fall.