Chapter Text
Rocky
It has been many days since the Hail Mary set course for Erid, approximately 2 Earth months.
I sit inside my section of the dormitory, working on an improved version of my screen-hearer, watching over Grace as they sleep. I'm hoping they sleep longer than usual, since they have barely slept at all this past week. I've tried my best to keep their sleep-wake cycle within the healthy parameters for a human, but Grace can be remarkably stubborn. I've hardly been able to tear them away from their Taumoeba experiments long enough to eat full meals, much less sleep for 8 hours.
As I put the finishing touches on my new screen-hearer, Grace mumbles something. I glance at my clock, then back at Grace. It hasn't even been three hours; they can't be waking up already! I'm still not the most knowledgeable about human sleep requirements (though I have learned much about it on my laptop), but I do know about human sleep debt. When they lose sleep, they gradually experience increasing levels of cognitive impairment. To combat this, Grace should be sleeping for longer stretches, but it seems they sleep less each day.
I'm worried about them.
"Grace? Are you awake, question?" I ask.
After shifting around for several seconds, Grace sits up and opens their eyes.
"Rocky?" they ask, their words slurred in strange ways. I frown. Grace often sounds different in the first minutes after waking up (their voice sounds deeper and rougher; it makes my core quiver), but this is different. Is slurred speech a symptom of sleep deprivation? I'll have to do some more research.
"Yes, I am here. Are you sure you don't want to return to sleep, question? You've only slept three hours."
Grace swings their head in my direction slowly and blinks once. Twice. The tiny node of concern within me grows larger. I've only heard Grace like this once, after they drank too much of the celebration liquid. Alcohol, they had called it. Had Grace consumed alcohol before going to sleep? No, that was impossible; I would've heard it.
Then what is wrong?
A thump disturbs me from my musings. Grace has clumsily stood up, swaying slightly. They seem lost, like they don't quite know what to do with themself. After these months of frenzied experimentation, I'm almost glad they seem to be relaxing a bit, but this isn't right. This isn't how Grace normally acts, even when they're tired.
"…Grace, question?" I ask again.
"'M fine," they say. They stand for a moment before walking clumsily to the ladder leading to the lab, "Need to eat."
I hear them start climbing the ladder. "Wait, Grace! Don't you usually get food from sleeping room computer, question?"
Grace doesn't stop, nor do they give any indication that they heard me. They just climb up into the laboratory. I sigh, abandoning my work in favor of climbing up after them.
When I enter the laboratory, Grace is standing by the container of Taumeoba they've been working on for the past week. They don't move as I approach from my xenonite tunnel, which strikes me as odd. Usually, they turn to look at me when I approach them.
Okay. I'm starting to get a little freaked out. What's wrong with Grace? Are they sick? My mind involuntarily floods with images of my crewmates, looking sick, vacant, weary. They had acted like this as they got sick, one by one, deteriorating until the only thing left of them were their crumpled bodies littering the ship's medical ward.
Now truly panicking, I tap against the xenonite separating me from Grace. "Grace, question? Grace! Are you okay, question?"
Finally, Grace turns to look at me and opens their eyes, and it's only now that I realize they had been standing with their eyes closed.
"Rocky?" they say in that same strange tone, "Why are you here?"
I don't know what to say. I just stand there, wondering what's wrong with Grace and how I can fix it.
Grace staggers, as if they've just suffered a physical blow. "Tired," they mumble, placing a hand on the lab table to steady themself.
I perk up. "Then go to sleep! Go back to sleep, Grace, I watch!"
Grace sways again, but thankfully doesn't argue. They stumble over to the ladder down to the dormitory. I suddenly pause. If Grace is having such trouble walking, then what if the ladder is too much for them? It would be safer if they stayed up in the lab.
However, I have come to know that Grace is not very good at telling what is safe and what is not.
"Maybe you should stay in lab. Ladder could be dangerous," I fret as they lower themself onto the rungs.
Grace doesn't respond, and now a faint seed of annoyance appears alongside the concern. Why aren't they listening to me? Usually, they at least acknowledge my statement before defying it; now, it's like they can't hear me at all.
Grace almost makes it down the ladder, but falls past the last few rungs when their foot slips. They collapse to the floor with a groan.
I tap the xenonite between us frantically, "Grace, question?"
"Whauh?" they say.
They stumble back to their nest and collapse onto it, falling asleep as soon as they do. I watch them cautiously, even though their breaths are slow and even, but they don't wake. Thank all that is good. I relax and go back to my work.
Grace
I wake up to the faint sound of an alarm in the background. I lift my hand and try to slap it on the phone sitting on my bedside table, but I miss spectacularly.
I bury my face into my pillow as the alarm continues to go off. I don't want to open my eyes.
"Shut uppp," I mumble, turning over and settling back under my covers. It's cold, colder than San Francisco usually is at this time of year.
The alarm stops, replaced by a soft, melodic sound. I relax a bit; it sounds nice. Had I put on some soothing music before I fell asleep last night? Usually, I knew not to do that when I had to stay up late grading assignments; music always puts me right to sleep.
This is weird music, though. It doesn't have any structured melody, and it stops and starts at weird intervals. I frown, but my limbs feel too heavy to do anything other than lie in my bed. If my alarm is correct, it should be about 6 o'clock. I still have several minutes before I have to get up, and I plan to use them.
The soft music stops, then a loud whistle pierces the air.
I flail, toppling out of my bed and landing on the cold, smooth floor. Wait, what? My floor isn't smooth; the tiny bedroom in my apartment has carpet. I should be getting carpet burn, not bruises.
I open my eyes and am immediately assaulted by bright light. I squeeze them shut again with a groan. After several seconds, I crack them back open.
Rocky "stares" back at me, his body language tense and concerned. I stare back, uncomprehending, until everything comes back to me in an instant. At first, the sensation is overwhelming, but it only takes a few seconds for my reality to settle in. The half-dream I had woken up from fades slowly from my mind. I shake my head, feeling unbalanced and strange.
"Rocky? How long did I sleep?" I pick myself off the floor and dust off my clothes for no reason. I hiss as my elbow stings, "Why am I so sore?"
Rocky tsks, his body untensing slightly, "Grace fell down ladder earlier. Stupid question."
I rub my elbow and frown in confusion. What's Rocky talking about? It's been weeks since my last ladder accident. "What are you talking about?"
Rocky stills again. "…You fell down ladder five hours ago."
I furrow my eyebrows, "Uh, no, I didn't, buddy. I was asleep five hours ago."
"No, you woke up," Rocky insists, sounding slightly agitated, "You woke up and went to lab. You don't remember, question?"
I shake my head, "No? I was asleep. I went to sleep because you pestered me about it, and now here I am. I haven't moved at all."
Rocky jerks his carapace in irritation, "Yes, you did, Grace! I saw!"
I take a break from arguing with him and take a second to think. My mind screeches along like a shopping cart with a defective wheel.
"Food and coffee, please," I mutter. Armando acquiesces, and after a couple of sips, I'm able to think a bit clearer.
The caffeine withdrawal after I run out of coffee will be miserable. I take a moment to grieve prematurely, then put it out of my mind. I have a more pressing issue on my hands right now.
"Okay, fine. I got up," I sit back down on my bed and begin to eat. Usually, I would be back in the lab by now, but Rocky seems worried about something, and I don't want to brush him off. "What did I do?"
Rocky cringes in disgust, but replies reluctantly, "Grace went up ladder to lab, stood in front of Taumoeba container, and then went back to dormitory. Talked to me, but was confusing and incomprehensible."
I continue munching on my breakfast, trying to be as quick as possible. I polish off my breakfast burrito in a few big bites and wash it down with the rest of the coffee. "So, this might sound crazy to you, Rocky, but I was actually asleep that whole time."
As expected, Rocky reacts with pure incredulousness, "Grace's eyes were open! You spoke! You climbed up ladder! Fell off ladder! Tired, perhaps, but asleep, question? Impossible!"
I nod and thump a fist against my chest. Maybe I should've waited to eat breakfast. "Nope, I was asleep. I have no memory of doing any of that."
"How humans awake when sleep, question?" Rocky cries. I try not to laugh, but it's really hard. He's pounding his arms against the ground in exasperation.
I sigh and run a hand down my face to hide the smile slowly twisting my lips, "Well—"
"Don't smile at me," Rocky grumbles, "You forget I can hear you."
I laugh, "I'm sorry, you're just really cute when you're mad."
Rocky slams another fist against the ground, "Rocky not cute! Rocky confused! Always confused! Humans make no sense!"
"Hold on, let me explain!" I spread my hands out in a placating gesture. "We call moving around during sleep 'sleepwalking.' The name's pretty self-explanatory."
Rocky grumpily makes up a word in his language, but I can tell he's playing it up. He says something under his breath, mostly words I don't recognize, but I do hear the word "crazy" mixed in amongst them.
"Anyway, sleepwalking occurs when a part of our brains wakes up, but not the whole thing," I explain, pointing at my head even though Rocky knows exactly where my brain is, "The area of the brain that controls our movement wakes up, but the part that controls our consciousness stays asleep."
Rocky nods, "That explains why Grace stupid while sleepwalking."
"You're mean, you know that?" I complain.
"Grace gave me big scare. Acted like ♪♩♫♬♩♪."
"Need word?"
"Dead human that walks around."
"…A zombie?" I say, confused, "How do you know what a zombie is?"
Rocky juts his carapace out proudly, "I use human laptop extensively. Do much research. Watch human movies to better understand Grace culture."
I stare at him. "And you've been watching them without me?"
"Grace never asked. Grace always working."
"You should've told me earlier, there are some really good ones—" I cut myself off as another alarm goes off. That's my second alarm, the one that means I absolutely have to get out of bed and return to my Taumeoba experiments. Crap.
"…Actually, I'll have to take a rain check on that," I sigh.
"Take what, question?"
"Human phrase. Means we'll have to table this for later."
"Do what, question?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I must be really tired if I'm slipping up like this. Usually, I know better than to say human colloquialisms around Rocky. "I just mean that we'll have to talk about this later, because I have to go check on the Taumeoba."
"Should Grace really experiment on Taumoeba today, question?" Rocky scuttles alongside me in his tunnel as I start to climb the ladder to the lab, "You should take day to rest. Work later."
"I have to do this, Rock, if I want any chance at surviving on Erid for more than a couple of weeks. A sustainable food source is vital."
Rocky grumbles. "We have years before reach Erid. Grace can spare one day to rest."
He's right, he usually is, but that doesn't stop me from climbing into the lab and checking on everything. Taumeoba breeder tanks are sealed tight and thriving, which immediately makes me sigh in relief. Ever since the Great Taumeoba Incident and the Absolutely Catastrophic Taumeoba Incident, I've gotten into the habit of obsessively checking every container of Taumeoba multiple times a day. Sometimes, when I'm especially paranoid, I'll sleep in two-hour increments instead of four to check on the Taumeoba more frequently.
I don't respond to Rocky. What is there to say? He knows I know he's right, but I'm not going to stop working. I don't think I can.
Thankfully, he seems to realize this, because instead of arguing more, he falls into a begrudging silence as I carefully handle a package of fresh, home-cooked Taumeoba sludge.
Bon appetit.
Rocky
For every day that passes, Grace's sleep grows increasingly disturbed. They have not sleptwalked since the first time, but that does not mean I haven't been any less worried. They mumble words, roll in their nest, and entangle themselves in their bedding restlessly. When they wake, they move slowly and clumsily, yet still insist on working until they stagger to their nest at the end of their waking hours.
It is… extremely frustrating. All the more because I cannot do anything about it. I have debated using my xenonite ball to shove them into their nest, but they could easily evade me. That's why I've started constructing a suit using my limited supply of flexible xenonite. If I have a more form-fitting method of protection from Grace's atmosphere, I could easily use my superior strength to force them to rest. Do I want to do that? No, but if Grace doesn't see sense soon, I don't know what else I can do.
I hear Grace get up from their nest, and I angle my carapace to better hear them. They slowly sit up and stand, placing one hand against the xenonite wall that divides us.
Thoughtlessly, instinctively, I abandon my work and go to return the gesture. When my hand meets theirs, their shoulders angle slightly downward, something I've come to realize signals a release of tension. Their fingers curl slightly.
"…Love you," their voice is quiet and slurred. I withdraw my hand. Are they sleepwalking again? Or is this behavior simply a result of their exhaustion? Either way, their words make my blood run hot. The world around me turns sharper, clearer, as every single one of my sound receptors comes to full alert.
"I love you too," I say, afraid, voice warbling in a way I've never been able to hide. Did Grace know? Did they know of my feelings towards them? Ones that have been building for months, ones that rooted themselves inside my core the moment they heard my tragic, pathetic story and agreed to watch me sleep?
"Rock," Grace murmurs before their eyes slip closed, and they gently fall against the xenonite wall. They slide down the ground until their body lies in a heap, then suddenly rise again as if nothing ever happened. I lower my carapace. They're asleep.
"I have to work," they tell me with a voice so crisp and clear that I almost doubt myself in my previous assessment. However, I'm quickly reassured: when they turn around, their movements are so disjointed that I know immediately they are not conscious.
Fuck. They're going to the ladder. I bound towards the airlock, which has my ball inside for easier access.
"Grace!" I call frantically as I seal myself inside, "Wait!"
Their head swivels back to me. Good. "Huh?" they say.
I wait impatiently for the airlock to equalize with Grace's atmosphere and rush out as soon as it does. I position myself directly between Grace and the ladder. They sway in confusion.
"Grace, go back to sleep," I say firmly.
They try to fold their arms, fail, then try again. "No," they tilt their head up slightly.
Curse this stubborn, obstinate human! Don't they know that this is what they need? I'm trying to help them!
"You are stupid!" I tell them in frustration. They don't respond. For a moment, I wish that humans slept like Eridians. I've never had to worry about someone acting awake while asleep; I'm completely out of my depth. Why won't Grace just let themself rest?
I walk forward and lightly bump my ball into Grace's legs. "Sleep. Now."
"Noo…" they complain, even as they turn around and stumble back to their nest. Thank all that is good, maybe they'll fall back asleep on their own, and I won't have to be as pushy as I thought.
It takes Grace a few tries to climb back into the nest, but once they do, they settle down under their blankets. They exhale a harsh puff of air, which, in this context, I understand means satisfaction. Grace often does this when they sit or lie down. They call it a "sigh."
I move to return to my side of the room, but Grace's hand smacks against my ball roughly and stops me in my tracks.
"Stay…" they mumble, voice half-obscured by the soft pillow under their head. "Come up here." They remove their hand from my ball and slap it against their nest.
"I can't," I remind them, even though my entire being screams at me to climb into their nest and make myself at home, "My ball cannot fit."
They groan in defeat.
"Trust me, Grace. I will make suit to survive your atmosphere, then I will watch sleep from nest every night," I promise.
"Yes," they say before their breaths dip into the deep, even rhythm I know means sleep. True sleep.
Feeling distinctly frazzled, I enter the airlock and cycle it, hardly noticing the beep that signifies equalization with my atmosphere. I step out of my ball, then enter my side of the partition and close the airlock door.
My suit sits upon my workbench, halfway finished. I had anticipated taking several more weeks to complete it, but now, a sense of urgency fills me. If I dedicate as much time as I can to my work, I should be able to get it finished within the week.
I laugh quietly. I'm beginning to sound like Grace.