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I have to hand it to the scientists on Erid; my biodome really is incredible.
Adrian finally— finally— figured out how to get the temperature of the ocean just right, exactly in between boiling-hot and freezing-cold. They tested it with me over and over until I said, “Oh, this is perfect,” and they’d practically chirped with delight.
It is perfect. Just the right temperature to sit in as the makeshift tide rolls in, simulating the push-and-pull of the Earth’s ocean with a moon that isn’t there.
I run my fingers through the gritty sand, wet with the lapping waves that keep coasting up under me, then away again. When I let it trickle off of my fingertips, creating small little piles of dribbling pebbles, I can’t help smiling, then doing it again, again, until I have a dozen around me in tiny heaps.
“See that?” I ask Mary, tucked in their sling against my chest, and Sol, curled up in a ball in my lap. “Pretty cool, don’t you think? Back on Earth, when I was a little kid, my brother and I would make these at the beach. We’d build sandcastles, pile these on top. We called them witches’s castles.”
Sol chitters a musical approximation of what I’ve just said, testing out the words in echo. It’s still mostly gibberish, but I rub my thumb encouragingly over one of their little arm-joints anyway.
“Good job,” I say, pinching another bunch of wet sand and trickling it downwards. “Want to try?”
Sol glances towards me, and I motion them forward; hesitant, they shift out cautiously over my knee. I nudge them a little bit more, then show them again. They only dig one of their hands deep into the sand, then turn towards me again with a soft trill, seeking my approval.
“Close,” I tell them. “Like this, see?”
I reach down, withdrawing their hand from the sand. Carefully, I open their fingers, then bring them back to the sand just as another wave laps upwards, small and warm. Sol jolts, tripping backwards into my lap again, but I shush them gently, rubbing their back this time.
“It’s okay, it’s just the water,” I promise them. “I’ve got you, I won’t let it take you. Promise.”
Sol tilts towards me, a nervous warble escaping them. I give them a one-armed hug, then encourage them to crawl slowly back down my leg again.
“Watch, I’ll help,” I say, guiding their hand downwards once more. They’re tight with anxiety, but I keep holding on. I don’t mind being their training wheels while they figure things out. It’s a big world, and they’re so small. The Eridians in my class are older in Earth years than college students back in America, on Earth— or, what America was like before I left. Who knows what the Earth looks like now.
But, my children are only a couple of weeks old. They can barely stumble around. Eridians age so much differently. By the time they’re even ready to go to school, I’ll be—
Well, I don’t like thinking about that.
So, I don’t.
Instead, I focus on guiding Sol’s hand down and helping them pinch up sand just the same way I’ve been doing. They let out a hesitant chirp; the second I help them start releasing the sand, though, pulling their fingers just a little bit apart so that it’ll drip down below, they start in on a delighted stream of gibberish notes, musical and lilting and amused.
“See? Not so bad,” I say. “You try.”
I release Sol’s hand, and they turn back to me with a confused, distressed hum. I can’t help smiling as I put my hand back on theirs, and they practically purr with happiness, vibrating in place.
“What do you want to build n—” I start to ask, a second before all three of us get splashed. Mary, fast asleep against my chest, squirms against me a bit, their face crinkling up with agitation. “Rocky—”
Rocky stands up in the water, then shakes droplets off everywhere. I told him once that he reminded me of a dog when he did that, and he just laughed at me and shook all over me again. Brat.
Rocky’s big, tumbling splash is followed quickly by a couple of tinier splishes as Stella and Asteria imitate his somersaults and trip right along after him. Sol makes a frustrated coo of a sound, stomping his back feet against my bare thigh.
“Quit splashing each other, c’mon, be nice,” I warn them all.
“Splash fun, statement,” Rocky insists. Asteria rolls right into him, splashing up his side; he grabs them, scoops them up above his head, chirping up at them as they screech back wordlessly with joy and excitement. “Watch, watch, watch.”
To my horror, Rocky just turns and pitches Asteria into the water. I’m already scrambling upwards, tucking Sol into Mary’s sling with them, demanding, “Rocky, what the heck are you—”
“Grace watch,” Rocky demands, tapping his back legs in much the same way Sol just had.
I give Rocky a playfully suspicious look before returning my attention out to the ocean again. It takes a moment— during which I seriously consider sprinting out to sea and diving for them myself— but Asteria bursts up from the water and starts paddling rapidly for shore.
“How does that work?” I ask Rocky. I crouch, beckoning Asteria closer; they practically leap into the crook of my arm once they’re close enough, dripping water all down my side. I try my best to keep them away from the sling. “You guys are so dense and heavy.”
“Eridian waters different,” Rocky explains. “Eridians different. Grace know this, Grace smart, statement.”
“I can’t help but feel you’re being sarcastic whenever you say that,” I comment, just as I feel tiny hands clawing at my leg. When I glance down, I find Stella trying to climb my leg and failing.
“Grace smart!” Rocky repeats.
“Not quite as smart as you.”
“Nobody smart like Rocky.” He reaches down, scooping Stella up in two of his hands, bringing them up to sit on my shoulder. They dig their tiny, sandy little fingers into the meat of me, holding on tight.
“Hey, buddy,” I say sideways, craning my neck a bit to see them better. “You having fun with your dad on the beach?”
Even though they don’t know what I’m saying, Stella still chirps at me, then nuzzles into the side of my neck, tucking themself into the juncture of my throat and shoulder. I can feel their little shudder against me as they get comfortable.
“Might be time to rest for a while soon,” I tell Rocky, glancing down at Sol as they reach for Asteria, pulling them into the sling alongside themself and Mary, still easily sleeping away.
“Human side needs so much rest,” Rocky complains, drawing out sooooo and reeeeest to show me just how cranky he is about it. “Rocky want spend more time with pebbles, statement.”
“Yeah, well, you can watch them while they sleep,” I reply, readjusting Asteria in the sling so they aren’t sitting directly on Mary’s face.
Rocky straightens up taller, insists, “Rocky protect offspring in sleep.”
“You’re the best at it.” I turn, the small waves lapping up to my ankles now. They wash away our tiny castles, our little cairns made of sand. “Speaking of, where’d Adrian go?”
“Adrian bring Laika, bring Dawn for tidepool visit,” Rocky tells me. “See fish, see bugs, see wildlife growing in Grace biodome.”
“Oh, hey, what the heck? I want to see that,” I comment, staggering forward a step. I’m definitely front-heavy with three of them hanging off my chest like they are; Rocky skitters in front of me, two hands up to stop me.
“Rocky help,” he says before he reaches into the sling and withdraws Mary. They don’t even wake up, happily slumbering away as Rocky tucks them in the crook of one arm and starts scampering down the beach. I follow after him, clocking how he’s heading for the huge rocks directly adjacent to my house— our house, really, even if Rocky and Adrian have to go back out into Erid’s environment now and then. They spend more than enough time in my house, with me and our children.
Plus, Adrian’s been working constantly on a suit for me that doesn’t weigh a thousand pounds and severely limit my range of movement. Then, I could visit them more often outside the biodome.
I want the pebbles to be able to enjoy Erid, too. Right now, Rocky keeps telling me they can’t be too far from me for too long, but that just makes me feel bad. Well, I like it— I like having them with me— but I feel guilty for keeping them from half of their home. Maybe someday. Hopefully someday soon.
“Hey, how’s my suit coming along?” I ask Rocky as he hauls along, going purposefully slow enough for me to keep up, slow human that I am. Rocky makes an inquiring chirp. “So I can go out of the dome.”
Rocky pauses, and I come to an unexpected stop beside him. He seems to contemplate this before he tilts up towards me. “Grace not happy with biodome, question?”
“No, no, I love it,” I rush to assure him. “It’s perfect, Rock, really. I just— I don’t know, I want to see Erid, and I— I guess I just hate the idea that I’m trapping the pebbles here because I’m trapped here.”
“Pebbles happiest with parent, statement,” Rocky reminds me. “Bonded with birthing parent like human. Bonded with all parent like Eridian. Attached, attached, attached.”
“Yeah, but— Is that a bad thing?” I ask, peeking down at Sol and Asteria in the sling, curled up together, limbs entangled. Reaching up, I scoop Stella off my shoulder, gently placing them in alongside their siblings. They all adjust automatically, shifting to welcome them into their fold. “Am I, like— Is this limiting to them? What if I mess up their development?”
“Grace think too much,” Rocky tells me.
“I’m overthinking it?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Rocky gestures with one of his front hands, careful not to jostle Mary too much in the process. “Pebbles explore when pebbles ready for explore. Still young, still small, still new. Need parent, statement. Need Grace Rocky Adrian now.”
“I guess,” I reply, dubious.
“Grace still think too much,” Rocky says, before he chirps a new word that I interpret as his translation of ‘overthinking.’ “Offspring explore when ready. Pebbles not ready.”
I look down at them in my sling again, a little tangled heap of color and stone and tiny vibrating purrs as they start getting snuggled and sleepy. They are so small; I keep forgetting that they’re so new. They move far more than human babies would at their age, but they’re far behind a human newborn at the same time. It’s throwing me for a loop; I want to do this right, but I don’t know how to do this at all. I like to think I’m good with kids, that’s not the problem, I just—
I really, really don’t want to mess this up. I run my thumb in absent circles against the underneath of the sling, just where their weight piles up together.
“Grace still think too much, exclamation!” Rocky chirps at me as we start walking again. “Grace tell Rocky thought, request.”
“I don’t know,” I say, and Rocky vibrates a loud trill at me, knowing better. “I just— What if I make a mistake?”
“Grace make many mistake, statement.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I grumble, kicking a little at the water trailing around my feet.
“Grace avoid meaning.” Rocky grabs onto the edge of my shorts, stopping me in my tracks. “Grace make mistake. Rocky make mistake, Adrian make mistake. Mistake make Grace Rocky Adrian grow, make learn.” He reaches up, presses one hand over my heart. The xenonite suit is so form-fitting that I can feel the shape of him. Still, I want more than anything to feel him. The mark on my arm burns with the need. “Grace love pebbles. Grace worry. Grace good parent. Grace not think too much. Perfect, perfect, perfect.”
“I’m not perfect, Rock,” I protest, even as tears spring unbidden to my eyes. I’ve been getting pretty used to this, honestly.
“Perfect not perfect,” Rocky answers.
Before I can ask what he means, we both catch sight of Adrian at the same time, a towering mass of turquoise that sparkles even in this fog-dimmed sunlight. They’re folded down beside the small pools gathered up higher on the shore, where the tide has just gone out and left behind the tiny bugs and fish that they’re now showing to Laika and Dawn. In another world, the idea of new forms of life developing in my biodome would’ve thrown me for a loop, but— while it is fascinating— it’s just par for the course for everything new I’m constantly experiencing on Erid.
Even from here, as we get closer, I can hear Laika babbling away. I swear, they’re always talking, even though it’s nonsensical gibberish noises and even though they don’t know what words even are, just yet.
“Laika talk, talk, talk,” Rocky comments with amusement.
“Yeah, reminds me of someone,” I reply, and Rocky pushes at the back of my knee. I stumble, exclaiming, “Hey, watch it, I’m carrying your pebbles and my knees are awful.”
“Rocky Grace Adrian pebbles,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, yeah, our pebbles,” I amend, just as we come up on the tidepools. “Hey, guys.”
Adrian chirps with excitement, reaching out for Mary in Rocky’s hold. He passes them over at the same time Laika and Dawn sprint for us, Laika slamming into Rocky and already chittering away, Dawn coming to sit on the top of my foot and reach up for me, cooing.
“Can someone pass them up to me?” I ask, and watch Adrian and Rocky swiftly smack at each other before Adrian wins out. They let Dawn skitter up their arm, resting there as they lift them up; when they set their hand on my shoulder, Dawn scrambles for me, though they get tangled in their own legs along the way and nearly fall to the sand below.
With a swift movement, Adrian catches them in another hand, depositing them into my sling, their larger body making it sag further down. Mary remains undisturbed, tucked against Adrian’s side with a third hand, sleeping away.
“Nice reflexes,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb over Dawn’s side, coaxing them into laying down with their siblings. They stretch as best as they can in the sling as it grows increasingly weighted, then settle in, curling up tangled in the others; they all sort of nestle into their biggest sibling, and Dawn wraps their arms around the littler ones, burrowing in close, guarding them even though they’re nearly the youngest.
“Pebbles rest, statement,” Rocky informs Adrian as Laika continues chiming at him, long strings of meaningless, excited notes.
Adrian hums agreement. “Human rest. Grace rest, question?”
“I’ll lay down if they are,” I tell them. When I glance out over the ocean, though, and the light trying— and failing— to fight through the fog, I add, “Maybe a few more minutes out here, though. It’s a nice day.”
“Is climate control,” Adrian reminds me. “To Grace preference.”
“The weather’s not the only thing that makes it a nice day.” I glance around, find a larger rock set deep into the sand, and start heading for it.
“Grace like ocean, question?” Adrian asks.
“I like the ocean, yeah,” I agree. The rock isn’t the most comfortable place to sit, so I slump down to the sand in front of it instead, using it as a backrest, for support to keep me upright. “I like who I’m spending the day with more, though.”
“Whom,” Adrian corrects me.
“You kidding me?” I ask. They hum at me. “Giving you access to the Internet was a mistake.”
“Not mistake, statement,” Adrian says, dropping to sit beside me. “Adrian smart, smart, smart now.”
“Adrian always smart, smart, smart, statement,” Rocky insists.
“I was just— Whoa,” I cut myself off as Adrian reaches out, lifts me up, moves me to sit against them instead. “Looking to cuddle or something, big guy?”
“Grace not use rock for sit,” Adrian complains. “Grace comfortable when sit with Adrian.”
I’m about to protest, but there’s nothing to protest, really. I am more comfortable here, there’s no use in pretending I’m not.
Instead, I just nestle down, getting snug against them. I have to readjust the sling as I shift, but the pebbles inside seem content to stay where they are, starting to fall asleep right there.
“Laika rest,” Rocky tells them. Laika trills up at him. “Laika rest with Grace.”
There’s no way they know what he’s saying, but they still happily go when Rocky stretches up to deposit Laika in alongside the others. The sling is fairly weighed down, now, and I shift again to rest both arms beneath it, supporting their weight, cradling them against my chest. Dawn seems to tuck them all against them; Sol appears to earn a special place tucked neatly under one arm. I take a moment to observe them, wondering if this is how they would nestle together while they were still inside of me. It’s a somewhat comforting thought. I hold them closer, letting them shuffle and tumble over themselves until they appear to decide they’ve reached a satisfactory clump, all nested together as they are.
Once he’s satisfied with the arrangement, Rocky shuffles backwards into my lap. He pats and taps and spins around a few times, making himself comfortable, before he settles down, limbs all tucking in. He rubs a little against my wrist and forearm.
Sandwiched between the two of them, with five warm pebbles burrowed over my ribs, and the sixth squashed against my side in the crook of Adrian’s arm, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more content.
I sigh, letting all that too much thinking that Rocky’s warning me against slip away. Instead, my head falls back against Adrian, and I watch out over the ocean, thinking of nothing more than the waves as they lap up towards us, stretching to try and reach my family.
When I was a kid, beach trips were a special-occasion thing. We’d get so excited, could hardly stand the joy of being there, nor the agony of leaving it behind at the end of the day, never knowing when we would come back. I hope Earth still has beaches; I hope they’ll come back, if they were gone. I hope children still have beach days where they get sandy and messy and dive into the water and watch the sunset and enjoy each other without the overthinking I’m so good at.
My kids can have beach days every day, though. We saved Earth, we saved Erid, and now— now, we’re allowed to just sit outside in the sand and be happy together and just— live.
“Hey,” I say aloud. I’m met with a chorus of chirps and trills and happy little chitters. “I love you. I just— I really love you guys, more than anything. You know that, right?”
An affectionate, pleased purr hums through Adrian beneath me; in front, Rocky sits up, turns to face me.
“Rocky Adrian pebbles love Grace more,” Rocky says back, then nestles back into my lap, deeper this time, as close as he can get.
“Grace loves Rocky, Adrian, and our pebbles most,” I counter. I earn myself a distressed vibration from Rocky as he pinches at my thigh. “Hey, quit it—”
“Grace deserve,” Rocky replies, just a little haughty, still a little bratty, as always.
I take him in— take it all in, just for a moment, and wonder if I really do deserve this.
Then, I make myself think— who cares? Who cares if I think I deserve this, if I wonder if I should be allowed to have all of this, if I’m not always sure I should be happy? I do have all of this, and I am happy. That’s really all that matters to me.
“Thanks,” is all I reply. Rocky tilts towards me for a moment, considering, before he settles back down again. In my sling, Laika starts mumbling in their sleep, and I can’t help but laugh.