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Harmonic Duet
Rocky’s courting of Ryland Grace began long before they landed on Erid - Before they had even found their solution to the Astrophage problem.
At some point while showing the Eridian his home on the ship and telling him about human culture, Grace had decided it was easier to get him involved than put it all into words—
And so they sang karaoke together.
Rocky found the songs Grace chose fascinating.
“Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off”, where a couple contemplates ending their matehood over trivial differences like the pronunciation of words in particular stood out to him.
Do human relationships really stop because of such small issues? Had Grace’s relationship ended because of something similar, or had Mark stolen his mate away?
Grace didn’t specify, and Rocky for once chose not to press.
Either way, Rocky hates Mark.
Tapping his claws together thoughtfully, listening to the gentle stretch and release of Grace’s muscles as his legs swing back and forth over the edge on the Mental Health Node platform, Rocky decides to try something else.
“Humans ever make songs together, question?”
“Sure, Rock— I mean, that’s probably how most songs get made.”
But that isn’t what he meant.
Rocky hums, long and low, trying to figure out a better way to word his question - But Grace seems to understand even before he’s able to get it out, already so fluent in his companion’s habits.
“Oh! You mean on the fly?”
“On what fly, question?”
“That’s a phrase, it means… unplanned, improvised.”
“Improvise,” Rocky echoes, before tilting his carapace up and down in his best impression of a nod. “That what I mean!”
Smart Grace. He thinks Linda - Grace’s former mate - was insane to let him go.
Perhaps humans don’t choose their mates based on intelligence, but something else entirely that Rocky can’t comprehend. Like light, like colour.
Smart Grace doesn’t last long.
Informing Rocky that he cannot (or simply refuses to) improvise a song with him while sober, he dips into his now pitiful supply of vodka pouches, and the next few hours are filled with so much noise.
The two of them singing, in English and Eridian respectively, Grace screeching every time he nearly topples off of the walkway, Rocky laughing whenever it happens—
Rocky hasn’t laughed so much in years, not since leaving Erid, and it is a relief as much as it is painful.
His crew would have loved this strange alien. Grace would have loved them, too.
Rocky doesn’t let himself think of the significance of all they sang about until he’s all but bullied Grace into bed to sleep off the alcohol - Doesn’t let himself think of the significance of the mere act of making up a song together.
Sound and music are important to Eridians - Important when it comes to courting, especially. To compose a song together is an act of testing compatibility… And while he hadn’t intended to court Grace when he asked about improvising a song, Rocky finds himself flustered.
It had been perfect. Grace had been perfect.
Even with his limited human vocal range, even with his drunken stumbling and swaying.
His difference from what Rocky understands only works to add to his beauty.
Shaking his carapace out of habit, the Eridian folds his limbs under himself and settles in to watch over Grace while he rests, a million thoughts on his mind that can never be forgotten.
Heat Sharing Ceremony
When Mary crash lands on Erid, Rocky feels claustrophobic.
He is in his xenonite suit, perched on top of a comatose Grace while mindful not to lay any actual weight on him, and thanks to a lot of focused last minute work, he has blocked off the crew quarters to keep the oxygen in.
It’s very lucky that he thought to do that - And even luckier that this end of the ship isn’t caved in from the crash.
The other end is, though. He listens to the creaks and groans of Mary’s structure, and turns his carapace towards Armando. Still receiving power, from what Rocky can tell, but they’re going to need to put in place supports for him soon.
Hunkering down a little more when he hears skittering down the hall, Rocky raises his hind leg, parting it as best he can in the more flexible xenonite that surrounds it—
Only to freeze when he realises who it is on the other side of the impromptu enclosure.
Adrian.
The first one to arrive, of course they are… They waited all this time.
“My song…”
And then there’s a pause from Adrian, hesitation.
He doesn’t blame them.
“This is Grace— He’s from another planet. He helped me find the solution.”
Turning on the heat lamp and carefully scrambling down from the bed, Rocky approaches the barrier, standing up on three legs as he rests two against the xenonite.
Adrian is taller now, older, he realises.
So much more time has passed in his absence than he thought.
“This ship…” They start, before stopping and trying another approach. “Where are…?”
“They died before we made it to our destination,” Rocky answers. “And I couldn’t return in our ship. The solution did, temporarily, become a problem in itself. I had bred the Taumoeba, and it became resistant to my xenonite. I didn’t know until it was too late, but Grace turned around—”
Adrian trills, tapping a claw quietly between them to stop him.
“Do not stress yourself, it sounds as though you have been through enough. I will explain to their families once I understand,” And then, tapping a little louder, getting a better idea of this… creature, “Tell me what you need for your friend, I will make sure it is done.”
“I need to stay with him, I’m keeping him warm, I'm sorry—”
“I know,” Soft as a human’s sleeping breath. “I know.”
Pressure Garden Gift
Long after Grace had recovered from his scurvy and his coma and from every other thing that had been threatening his life, Rocky starts to work on a gift for him.
It began with a small crystal.
Unremarkable, at first, barely larger than one of Grace’s fingernails. But when Rocky exposed it to a carefully selected range of frequencies, the crystal responded.
It resonated.
And when he changed the frequency, it sang, producing a delicate sequence of tones that travelled through its structure and into the surrounding material.
Rocky thought of Grace - Thought of Grace’s voice, thought of how he has Grace’s voice recorded in the logs he kept the first time they parted, figuring it would be easier for Eridians to believe in this wonderful human when they heard him for themselves.
Carefully, he picked out a few phrases to experiment.
“Hello.”
“Rocky.”
“What’s that?”
“I need coffee.”
“You’re impossible.”
The patterns in Grace’s voice caused microscopic changes in the crystal’s internal structure, and feeling pretty proud of this new discovery, he began to include more of Grace’s sounds.
His laughter produced one shape, while his whisper produced another, his excited voice yet another— And whenever Grace said Rocky’s name, the crystal developed a thin line through its centre. Golden, though he couldn’t determine that - Humans still have the upper hand there.
Rocky created several chambers in his workshop, each with a crystal exposed to a different sample of Grace’s voice, and he was meticulous in their care, adjusting temperature, pressure, mineral concentration.
He only allows Grace inside when he was done growing them, two claws fidgeting nervously as he pulled the fabric from over them.
Six crystals; Blue-white, red with tiny silver fractures, dark purple, foggy grey, green, and the last was the largest, reflecting light in strange rainbow patterns, with a tiny spiral of gold.
Carefully, Rocky places them in a container and hands them over to Grace, carapace tilting up as he awaits judgement.
“You made these?”
Grace picks up the largest, drawn in by those little rainbows, and pauses when his own voice came from the crystal.
“Rocky.” followed by a soft tone.
Immediately, the Eridian perks up.
“You picked my favourite.”
Grace smiles at that; Rocky can hear it when he speaks. He can also hear the blood rushing to Grace’s face, flustered.
“Why is this one your favourite?”
“Because you say my name.”
Grace chuckles at that, a little surprised by the simple sincerity, and the crystals answer, resonating with a sound that fills the room. Not quite music, not quite speech - Something in between.
A human voice transformed into Eridian tones.
“They are remembering you,” Rocky tells him, letting out a soft coo as he watches Grace hold the crystal close.
“Thank you, Rocky.”
And so, he continued growing crystals.
Not because they were useful or scientifically interesting, an engineer more focused on function than appearance like he was had no use for them in the things he created.
He grew them because Grace’s voice was beautiful to him, and Rocky believed it was something worth keeping forever.