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I had turned around for Rocky, even while knowing it would almost definitely mean my untimely death. I knew this. Did it willingly. But it was another thing entirely to face the slow, painful reality of it. My mouth tasted like blood constantly; I felt brittle and liable to snap at any moment. According to the medical readings and my own research, I was pretty sure that I had scurvy among other fun ailments. I knew my body was slowly failing me, the systems crumbling as the intricate machine fell apart under the strain of running on empty. Basically, I was dying. Falling victim to the slow, painful demise that DuBois and the others had been so eager to circumvent. Rocky knew it too, even if he refused to acknowledge it.
I was eating taumeba nearly every day now. But while it was edible, it contained little in the way of essential vitamins or nutrients. There were no more options. The little other 'real' food I had left HAD to be saved so that it could be studied and hopefully synthesized once we reached Erid.
If we reached Erid.
For a while, food had been all I could think about. I tortured myself with the cravings. My mouth watered at the slightest mention of something edible. Watching TV or movies with Rocky became something I loathed and loved in equal measures for the brief glimpses of normal meals it captured. nuclear families sitting down to turkey and mashed potatoes, kids eating bowls of brightly colored cereal and milk, spaghetti and wine shared by lovers. Eventually, I just started to close my eyes when food came on screen.
In the most desperate of moments, I'd considered eating things I never would have before—started scavenging and wondering what inanimate objects could be ingested semi-safely. Then caught myself thinking of the near mummified corpses of my crewmates with a distant predatory cruelty, 'I shouldn't have sent them into space'. The moment I realized where hunger had taken me, I retched out all of the nothing I'd eaten, vomiting bile, taumemba, and water into the toilet in a way my body could not afford. Rocky hovered outside the door, humming a sorrowful, soothing song. I knew it had to be absolutely vile for him to witness, and yet he stayed.
My stomach had bloated painfully before it transformed into an agonizing ache as my body began to eat itself. I tried not to focus on the pain, the dread, the hunger that had transcended hunger and then come back around to nausea. I was weak now, sometimes barely able to move. My bones showed through my flesh in ways that made me both scared and morbidly fascinated in turns. I did my best to hide my deteriorating form behind my thickest clothes and blankets, but I knew that Rocky could still 'see' how nearly skeletal I'd become.
Rocky was growing quieter too, tones barely loud enough to be picked up by the translator and my ears, our conversations fading and drifting without rhyme or reason. And when we did speak, it was hard for me to focus. I was slipping in and out of unconsciousness more often as my body struggled to save energy. Where once Rocky might hover a few feet away while I slept so he could watch while doing other things, more frequently I would wake up, and he would be as close to me as possible, either up against the xenonite barrier or, more often than not, in his ball. I always found myself curled as close to him as I could get in turn, seeking out his heat and comfort even in the depths of dream.
I knew my clear deterioration worried Rocky immensely. I'd tried to explain that it was more or less my body's attempt at helping me survive, but that didn't seem to help him calm down. I didn't know what to say to comfort him anymore. It was hard to think. Hard to remember what the point was. The moments of dreamless sleep were increasing, and I was in agony when I was awake. Would it really be so awful to just…never wake up? I caught myself thinking about the hidden gun or the nitrogen with a hazy sort of longing. It was bad. Bad. Bad.
"Mary--painkillers, please," I rasped, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice.
"Dispensing painkillers." Mary acknowledged before Armando pressed the syringe against my neck. Then I proceeded to lie there for another hour, just drifting in and out of consciousness.
"Grace...Grace. Awake, question?" It was useless to ask me. I knew he could hear my heartbeat, as irregular as it had become and how it slowed when I slept.
"'M awake. What's up?" There was a moment of quiet that had me opening my eyes and turning my head to look at him.
"If calculations are correct, we will reach Erid in a month," Rocky said, his voice hesitant. I cracked a smile at him that took way too much energy. Even my gums hurt. But the painkillers helped.
"That's great news." And it was. It made my heart soar to think of Rocky getting to go home, getting to see Adrian, getting to be loved and celebrated by his people for saving them all. Rocky didn't seem especially enthusiastic just then. I tilted my head and asked, "What's wrong? "
Rocky warbled sadly. "Scared. See Grace suffer. I am…helpless. Useless."
Without thinking, I reached out to him, fingers brushing against the xenonite barrier between us. So warm. I shook my head, "Nothing you can do about my biology, Rock. And even you can't magically create more from nothing." I swallowed as he leaned into the barrier on the opposite side, the vibrations of his melancholy music against my fingertips. It sent shivers up my spine, and goosebumps rose on my arms. "Do me a favor, bud?"
Rocky made an affirmative noise, eager to help in any way, and he listened carefully as I whispered what I tried not to imagine as my deathbed wish to him. Then he was gone, busy doing my bidding.
I decided it was time to celebrate with my final cache of rations: the last of the coma slurry, a single package of apple sauce, and the last of the alcohol. I had Mary and Armando grab it for me and help me 'eat' it. I couldn't stomach actually swallowing much anymore without retching. But I forced myself to savor the last of the vodka even as it burned me up inside and out.
Rocky's presence washed over me, and I turned only to feel my breath catch in my throat. He was no longer confined to his ball. But wearing xenonite like a suit!
"Hello, Grace." Rocky greeted, stepping closer, before posing proudly. "Grace like new outfit?"
I shut my mouth where it had fallen open in awe. I'm not going to cry, I told myself, already tearing up. I tumbled to my knees beside him. Rocky warbled an alarmed sound I knew meant, 'be careful!' before I threw my arms around him. He was hot. But it wasn't unbearable. Heck, I would probably have kept holding onto him even if it had been painful. But, instead, it was perfect.
My eyes burned, but I was holding it together. And then I felt Rocky's arms come up and circle me in turn, and I burst out sobbing. I babbled some incoherent apologies about getting tears and snot all over him, but Rocky said nothing, merely holding me tighter, humming a deep, soothing tone that I felt in my chest. I ran my hands all over him, touching every part of him that I could. I was memorizing the texture of the xenonite, of the way it was shaped differently over bumpier parts of his carpace, trying to embed this moment in my memory to take with me when the darkness came to claim me.
I was a scientist first and foremost. A molecular biologist, who had seen the building blocks for life under a microscope. A teacher tasked with presenting to my students an unbiased truth. I'd never been one to believe in God or any other kind of higher creation. But it was hard not to feel that something like fate, like destiny, like predetermination must have been at play when I considered everything that had brought us together. I could look at it like a probability equation, like pure science and math, with hard logic. We'd come this far because of us, because of our peoples' unwillingness to give up, because of friendship and hard work, sweat, blood, tears.
And yet—my mind kept saying, 'thank you, thank you' and I wasn't sure who it was directed at. The universe, perhaps. We basked in each other like sunlight. The soft music played in the background as a montage of our favorite videos played on the 360-degree screens. For some reason, my mind went to the way I'd dressed up a broom like a person and 'danced' with it in this same room in an attempt to fight off the nigh unbearable loneliness.
"I've never danced with anyone." That I could recall at least. And then I had a flash of our first meeting. I rushed to say it before he could, "Except you." First, our ships had tangoed, then the two of our bodies had moved in sync with the xenonite between us. It had meant so much more than some silly dance moves—it meant genuine connection, acknowledgment, sincerity. Their bodies had spoken for them when the language barrier had been just as real as the xenonite between them. Dancing for them was predicting each other's next movement and trusting to the point where it didn't matter who led the dance, just that they were together in an elation-induced push-and-pull. It had been looking in a mirror and recognizing myself in the being before me, in Rocky, in [♩ ♪ 𝄏 ♫ ♬] . Their dance meant they were no longer alone.
Rocky was quiet for a moment before saying, "Have only danced with two. Statement."
I took that in, my brain working extra slow with the drugs and the whole dying thing. "Me. And…?"
My friend let out a sigh-like warble before doing the familiar tune for "Adrian."
"Oh." I said before I permitted my lips. The implications were reality-bending. My heart had begun to throb, my mind racing. "You…do you mean that…"
Rocky tapped his claws together; impatiently, nervously, perhaps both, as my malnourished mind stuttered through to the logical conclusion. But when nothing came, he took pity on me. Or else he got anxious enough to circumvent my quiet meltdown. "Dancing important on Erid. Very, very important. Sing, thrum often. But, dance less so. Used to find mate. Sometimes group dances, big parties for this purpose, but I never had to join. Had Adrian. Never want to dance with anyone else." Rocky tap, tap, tapped, likely searching my face for details, "Until Grace."
I listened with very wide eyes. Maybe it was the nutrients I'd consumed or the gut punch of a conversation, but suddenly I felt more alive than I had in months. "But that was… that was different, right? Our dancing was different." I licked my lips, trying to give him an out.
The eridian warbled in a way that I knew meant uncertainty, "Yes." I swallowed, definitely not heartbroken by that one syllable. But then Rocky continued, and I nearly choked on emotions, "And no."
My voice was a croak: "Explain? Question?" I entreated him, afraid to get it wrong.
Rocky's carapace shifted back and forth as he thought, low whistles of steam rising out of him like he was embarrassed. "I knew I wanted. Once met Adrian. We danced soon after we met." A long pause. My heart pounded in my ears. "Same when first heard you. Knew I wanted. And I was correct. We dance soon after we meet."
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. My throat was tight. I could deny it. Humans didn't put quite the same importance on the act of a dance. Dancing was, in fact, just something humans did for fun. Or to communicate.Though I guess dancing has always been a pretty big custom among human mating as well—dating or courting or whatever. I could tell him this, could make it into a sociological discussion, but instead I say, "We danced before then."
"What mean, question?" Rocky tilted his body curiously.
"Our ships." I leaned closer to him, my breath fogging the surface of the xenonite before it slowly evaporated.
It was his turn to chime, "Oh.", as we both thought back to those first adrenaline-fueled moments. The Blip A approaching the Hail Mary. Their ships circling, mimicking each other's speed, taking turns to set the pace, until finally they'd spun together in perfect sync, connected.
I leaned my forehead against him, my eyes falling shut as I took in his presence. "Are we…mates then?" I couldn't help but ask, quietly. I thought I knew the answer, but if I was wrong…but if I was right…both possibilities were terrifying in different ways.
Rocky's arms settled more firmly around me. "On Erid, we would be [𝄏𝄐𝄤𝅘𝅥𝅱]."
"New word?" I asked, curiosity momentarily overriding my embarrassment and fear.
"Like humans in movies do. Fancy meals. Go on boat rides. Before the rings."
My brow furrowed as I struggled to translate that, "Like…dating?"
Rocky grumbled, "New word. Question."
I began to smooth my hand over him, absentmindedly. Just to feel the texture, compare its differences to the xenonite-ball. "I think it's what you're talking about. People go on 'dates' to learn more about each other, to see if they want to commit to being together more permanently."
Rocky considered this, "Not right word. Know as soon as hear Grace. Felt it. Knew you somehow. Wanted to meet you, protect you. Make Grace mine."
A shiver ran down my spine, swirled like fire in my gut. That sounded intense. "Uh. Okay." I squeaked. I cleared my throat, trying for some stupid reason to keep this about linguistics, "M-Maybe…'courting'? More—direct. A bit archaic. Not many people use that word anymore." But perhaps it was appropriate. Though…not many people (as far as I was aware) had ever actually proclaimed to have fallen in love at first sight—which sounded a bit like what Rocky was describing—that stuff was for fairy tales. It was impossible.
'Was it?' A tiny voice wondered, thinking about how it had felt to see the Blip A for the first time. The sheer awe, terror, all-consuming fascination, and elation that had overtaken me.
'Yes!' Logic threatened to stamp it out. 'That's ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous! There is no such thing as fate, as love at first sight--you're a lonely, desperate loser who attached himself to the first creature that expressed any interest in him, a being who has been alone for longer than you've even been alive!! --What future do you think you have with him?--with someone as incredible as him? With a mate and a whole planet waiting for him?'
My jaw trembled. I snatched Logic up by the throat and carefully smothered it under my own desperate love. I thought about how it had felt to see Rocky for the first time in 'person'—behind the initial fear there had been something undeniable—a draw, a connection, a feeling like…I know you, here you are, finally.
It could have been anyone else out here. It could have been any other human, eridian, or any other species, maybe. But it hadn't been. It had been us. We'd both survived somehow, someway. Despite all the odds. And we'd saved our stars. Hopefully.
Both our species had put everything into just…trying. And it had brought us together. Rocky had been isolated, surrounded by death for way longer than he should have ever been. And I'd basically been dragged kicking and screaming before forgetting everything. It was hard still not to feel betrayed and haunted. But…I would do it all over again, I knew. If I were sent back in time, I would walk willingly onto the Hail Mary just for a chance to see Rocky again.
Could it be because we were the only two people around for light-years? Was it likely so intense because of our psychological traumas? Yeah, probably. But that didn't mean what we felt wasn't real.
"-race? Grace?" Rocky trembled in my arms, clearly becoming anxious by my extended silence. Distantly, I noticed I was also shaking. That was probably mildly alarming.
"What about Adrian?" I asked, holding myself steady against him. I would never forgive myself if I broke something between them.
Rocky went still at my question, clearly considering it before warbling, " Multiple mates common on Erid. Though our circumstances are… special. Many years since I knew Adrian's mind—too long since we thrummed," I heard the vast collection of anxious 'what-if's layering his voice, "but if they are still how I remember, then Adrian will love Grace. Like Rocky love Grace."
It shouldn't be enough. On Earth, I would have picked at this conversation, turned it around and around to understand every angle until I'd ruined all hope of it in my own mind. But this wasn't Earth. I was never going back to Earth. All I had was in my arms, sun-soaked stone, humming to soothe me. And that was everything.
Maybe it was codependently unhealthy, but at this point, I didn't even try to care about the morals or ethics. I didn't try to detangle the future from the present. I didn't torture myself with the possibilities of failure. Instead, I closed my eyes and leaned forward to press my lips against his carapace. Then I did it again. And again, wherever I could reach. I ran my hands along his arms. When I felt him stop shaking, I murmured, "Dance with me?"
A pleased little melody erupted from Rocky before he quieted, "Grace too tired? Question?"
I smiled at him, "I have just enough energy for this. And besides, you'll be holding me up."
I was aiming for a joking tone, but Rocky answered earnestly, "Always."
My throat closed up. "Oh, shut up, you do this on purpose." I couldn't stop the tears even if I wanted to.
Rocky laughed, beautiful and ethereal, warming me to my toes. It drew a watery laugh from me in turn, like a chemical reaction.
We danced. Unselfconscious, with no one else in the universe to watch us. It started like our other dances—further apart, each of us taking turns to do some silly move that the other mirrored. We laughed and circled each other while the screens played images of a home I would never return to. I didn't feel like I was missing anything as we drew closer together. I brushed my palms over the top of his carapace and felt him gently slide his claws up my thighs to rest on my hips. I fought back a shiver.
As the song continued, I slowly put more of my weight onto him and, in turn, he held onto my hips more firmly. Then we were turning together. Below the music, I could barely hear Rocky singing, but my palms picked up on the vibrations, ricocheting up my arms and into my rib cage. The moment transcribed itself on my heart.
It was the last moment of peace I felt for a long time.