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I don’t remember most of the ride down to Erid’s surface, honestly. The whole trip takes more than three Eridian days. At first, I’m okay. It starts off at only a bit faster than a regular human elevator, which I can handle.
And then we begin dropping faster.
I stagger. Rocky shoves himself up against my carapace, and on the other side, Adrian hooks an extra hand under my limb. Are you alright? They ask.
My claws clench around Adrian’s fingers in response. I’m sure both of them can feel me shaking. They can definitely hear my multi-frequency distress call; a high frequency chord for anyone in the immediate area, and a low single note that travels further. It’s not intentional.
Rocky begins singing. The vibrations rumble through my carapace and attempt to soothe my racing hearts. Almost immediately, Adrian joins in.
Thank, I mumble after a while.
Eridians can’t be lulled to sleep like humans can, but I can essentially space out all the same. The elevator car is soundproofed to prevent anyone from being overwhelmed by the variations in atmosphere layers as the car descends. Only small portions where the car attaches to the cable are left, so you could get some understanding of movement beyond just acceleration or deceleration. There’s texture screens near the door that list out our rate of descent and how far we are from the surface.
I remain slumped against Rocky and Adrian for an undetermined amount of time. It isn’t until the elevator car gradually begins to decelerate that I come back to myself.
Nearly there, Adrian tells me.
‘Nearly there’ really means something more like a couple more hours, but close enough. Finally, the elevator smoothly comes to a halt. The doors remain closed.
The two of them help get me properly upright. As I make sure I’m not about to fall over, I notice a rumble. What’s that?
Rocky tilts their carapace back and forth. I don’t know. Maybe people wanted to gather to hear us?
I didn’t hear about any celebrations, but I imagine there will be some gathered. You both saved the stars, after all. As Adrian speaks, they tap a claw – three times the size of one of mine – against the floor. When you’re both ready, we should go.
My hearts pound. I don’t really want to have to talk to anyone else right now. The last few (Eridian) days have been a whirlwind, between docking the Mary, meeting Adrian, and the descent. But if I didn’t want to spend my upcoming sleep cycle in the elevator car, I’d need to brave the surface.
They allow me to be the one to press the button to open the door. I exhale, then do so.
As soon as the door unseals in order to slide away, a wave of sound hits me hard enough to send me staggering. Rocky manages to prevent me from going down fully, but even they are affected by the wave, as indicated by the slight tremble in their limbs.
When the door finishes opening, I’m frozen in place.
The rumble we’d been feeling had been the sound of an uncountable number of Eridians gathered around the base of the space elevator, all talking and waiting for us to step out. So many, in fact, that the soundproofing of the car had failed to stop all of it. And the door opening had apparently driven many of them into song.
Adrian guides myself and Rocky out. The elevator is in the middle of a huge plaza of sorts, larger than I’d ever observed on Earth by a large margin, surrounded by some buildings. I can feel open spaces underground, both small and large.
And I can feel the Eridians. Filling every open space around the plaza, gathered between buildings, even on top of them. Some poke out of the tunnel openings. They’re pressed so closely together that I struggle to get a clear understanding of most.
We step further from the elevator car. The doors close behind us.
All at once, everyone falls silent. First those closest to us, a few meters away, then the silence spreads in a wave. Not a single Eridian sings once the silence starts.
One, right in front of us, steps forward. They’re bigger than Rocky, but only by a bit. Rocky presses our carapaces together as Adrian remains just behind us, a protective shield ready to act if needed.
Welcome to Erid, Saviors-of-Stars, the stranger hums. Please, will you allow us to know your name?
Adrian rumbles slowly. We wish to retire to our home to rest before any public appearances.
The Eridian twitches, but doesn’t back down. Please, they plead.
For a moment, I don’t move. I don’t speak. The silence allows me to actually listen to my surroundings properly. The crowd isn’t perfectly silent, of course; some shift their weight, or click to hear their surroundings, but no one is singing. So I can still get a good listen in.
And that’s when I realize that I can’t feel the edge of the crowd.
Before I could stop myself, I ask, how many are there?
The crowd ripples in excitement, but no one breaks the silence, save for the one Eridian who stepped forward. Many, they tell me, chords trembling, many have come to listen to you come down to Erid. You brought the means to fix our star, Savior. We will go if you ask us, but I truly don’t know how many people came.
Rocky taps quietly against one of my limbs. Right over the carving of his handprint.
Before I can change my mind, I straighten up, and do my best to project my song. My name is Brave-One Land-Where-Life-Grows Teacher-of-Many Savior-of-Stars Friend-from-Sol Star-Traveler Scientist-Studying-Life Shape-Changer Full-of-Grace. Thank you for welcoming me to your home.
No one moves as the last of my notes fade.
I worry for a heartbeat that I did it wrong. That I misspoke, and managed to insult all of Erid somehow.
Chords thunder through the air as every single Eridian bursts into song. It’s incomprehensible for a moment, and I think that the sheer volume is going to send me into a panic, until something shifts. Notes line up, Eridians adjust, and they all fall into a single harmony. I can’t pick out a single individual as they sing.
Adrian suddenly starts laughing, the sound barely audible over the song that fills every bit of space around us. They’re thrumming to welcome you, Grace!
…for me?
The song swells. Grows stronger, if that’s even possible. Behind me, Adrian joins in, their voice melding with the thousands of Eridians around us. But Rocky and I can only stand and listen.
It’s indescribable. It’s nothing like anything on Earth, and nothing like the comparatively miniscule thrums that Rocky and I had together on the Mary, singing together in the quiet of space. With every passing moment, the thrum continues to grow.
Beneath our claws, the ground begins to rumble. I shudder.
Rocky makes a wheezing sound. Grace. There’s more of them.
What? I ask, overwhelmed.
If enough Eridians thrum together, the sound begins to travel through the ground, he explains, and his voice nearly sounds breathless. I’ve only heard it once, when we were working on the mission plans. This is- it’s bigger. A lot bigger.
Bigger than-
You said that was the biggest thrum in Eridian history.
Rocky hums, and briefly harmonizes. They tear their focus away from the thrum and bob their carapace in a nod. Yes.
Then they join in.
I twist to listen to the thrum. I’m getting bits and pieces of meaning, but without joining in, I won’t get the full experience. It’s terrifying.
Subconsciously, I begin swaying. The thrum intensifies for a second. It’s still growing louder, the vibrations pressing in from every direction.
Taking a breath, I begin singing.
Everything slows, calms for a moment when I begin, and then all at once-
I can feel everyone.
I lose my body. It’s still there, but numb, distant. All I know is the thrum, hearing everyone harmonizing. Now that I’m part of it, I know what they’re saying. I know how far the thrum reaches, can feel every individual around me.
The thrum reaches far beyond my body’s hearing range. A lot farther.
Beyond the city limits. Even in the outskirts, the less populated areas, there are Eridians joining the thrum, acting as amplifiers for the harmony to carry further. I can hear other towns and cities joining in as the song reaches them, stopping their work. Pebbles, even those tucked deep within their caves, add their wordless songs. The eldest Eridians, those with cracked carapaces and extensive name-songs, joining in, the thrum giving them the energy to sing.
With every new addition, the world around us reacts. The ground itself reverberates.
I keep singing. The exact words are lost; they’re not needed in a thrum. But the meaning is there, and so I thank them, thank them for loving me, for welcoming me, for sending me Rocky.
And they sing back.
Most-Honored Bravest-One Land-Where-Life-Thrives Teacher-of-All Savior-of-Stars Friend-from-Sol Star-Traveler Scientist-Studying-Life Shape-Changer Kind-Hearts Full-of-Grace
Thank you thank you thank you
Stars will shine again because of you
You will always have a home here
Savior of lives now and to come
Meanings overlap. They weave together. The thrum stretches further. Past the mountains, across the sea.
Love praise relief joy excitement anticipation delight love happy pride amazement love bliss love love love-
Distantly, I realize that it almost feels like the atmosphere itself is shaking. Beyond, of course, what it takes for sound to exist. Like the whole of Erid itself is joining in.
Our Saving Grace, sings all of Erid, sings billions of Eridians across the planet. Savior of Life Itself!