Chapter Text
It was a normal day.
Grace had requested a semblance of a normal schedule with his kids. Something adjacent to a five-day work week with a cyclical "weekend" to maintain some sense of normalcy during his indeterminate length of stay on Erid. He even had a "summer break" predetermined, something the small Eridians were thrilled to hear was fast approaching.
Today was an ordinary, seasonless Saturday.
Grace looked up. The weather in the biodome he called home was gray and murky today. He had also requested changes in weather early on, artificial as they may be. A bright, sunny day just wasn't quite the same without some quieter, duller days throughout the feigned almanac. Gray, foggy skies were his favorite, so they were also the most frequent. But today, for whatever reason, the sky weighed on him a little heavier.
He looked back out at the sea. He ran his fingers over the fine little pebbles by his leg where he sat.
It's funny how he felt so at home here, but on his weird off-days he felt more like an abandoned creature. This was his little enclosure, and the natives around him watched, studied him, and cared for him. That was just the truth of the situation.
But, he was so loved and cared for here, so much more than he ever had been on Earth, and everything – everything – that he could see, touch, and smell around him was carefully crafted to keep him as comfortable and enriched as possible in this confined space. What a lucky life, huh?
And, as if he wasn't already feeling ungrateful enough, an entire team of alien researchers were hard at work for every breath he took. Studying, observing, researching, analyzing. Learning how to better his life. Heck, they figured out how to create seasonings purely so Grace could enjoy the taste of food again!
But, he was still stuck here. Alone. Sixteen lightyears from Earth.
A flat, unamused laugh got caught in Grace's throat. Ugh. He was getting all existential again.
The artificial ocean sprayed cold saltwater in his face. He still loved the smell.
Everything was so almost-perfect.
He almost couldn't hear the humming sound over his own wallowing.
Wait, the what?
Grace became faintly aware of an ornery sound, low and buzzing. It swelled, slowly, sounding almost… electrical. No – almost alive.
Every muscle in his body froze as his ears directed all attention towards the noise. It was so… unnatural. His brain scrambled to try and identify where it was coming from, but the sound surrounded him, everywhere and distant all at once. An uneasiness began to set deep in his stomach.
Something wasn't right. Grace had been here, in this biodome, for nearly nine months now, he was plenty familiar with the noises bound to this space. He had a part to play in the engineering of most of the functions here, and where didn't, he had be interested enough to ask for an explanation. He knew that the wave-maker rolled and clattered along a railway underwater. He knew what Rocky sneaking up on him sounded like (which he was very bad at, by the way).
This sound was none of that.
His eyes, focused on the distant waves, caught a glimpse of a flash of light. No, not just a flash: steady flashing, flickering. Growing.
Grace watched the light with curiosity, awe, and anxiety under his skin. He shouldn't feel anxious – he was safe here. He was so, so safe here. But, then again, he was still sometimes plagued with fleeting thoughts of the biodome rupturing and hot ammonia rushing in, the Eridian atmosphere crushing him before he even had time to tell Rocky goodbye.
Yeah, fun thoughts.
In a spark of panic, Grace suddenly wondered if there was some kind of breach. In the ocean? No way. Rationalism swooped in to stomp down the embers of panic just as the situation escalated. That's when Grace's vision started to warp.
At first, he thought his eyes were starting to go blurry from staring at the astigmatic light growing in the ocean for so long, but he realized very quickly that the waves around the light were actually warping, twisting clockwise and pulsing.
The light was brighter now, spikes of white rays stretching out of the sea and reaching into the air. The low sound was audible enough to sound warbly now, even grating. It sounded almost mournful, like a deep, mechanical cry. And it was definitely coming from whatever that thing was.
Grace was panicking.
He hastily rubbed his eyes and stood up, his gaze unmoving from the steady burst of light and sound. It continued to flicker, now blindingly bright in the center. The sound became almost maddening, and the warping only disoriented him further.
For half a second, Grace considered running.
Then, out of nowhere, there was more there than just light.
The waves crashed and sloshed, and suddenly a hunk of metal bobbed right in front of the light, twisting in Grace's distorted vision. The water grew dark and inky around the new presence, a deep red color sprawling out like wet paint.
It was sinking. As the metal hull descended, the light faded, shrinking smaller and smaller into nothingness, taking that awful sound with it. The distortion was gone, but the sinking metal and the dark ring of water surrounding it remained.
Grace's stomach dropped to his feet. Immediately, he realized what was going on in front of him: a whole lot of something totally unexplainable, probably concerning, and definitely something he should do something about.
"Oh, man." He put his hands on his hips, then promptly felt self-conscious about looking like a dad assessing the damage in his neighbor's lawn. His arms flailed awkwardly at his sides for a moment, unsure what to do with his hands. "Oh, jeez, okay."
He cleared his throat. "Rocky?" he called, trying to stay calm, but sounding more panicked than he'd like to admit. His feet started padding into the sandy beach, taking him to the biodome's airlock before he had the active brain cells to realize it. "Hey, anyone?"
He was halfway to the airlock when Rocky came barreling out, tumbling clumsily in his Xenonite suit. It wasn't hard for Grace to gather that he was panicked, too.
"Grace!" he chirped, an octave higher than usual. "Data shows anomaly in area, high energy and electromagnetism readings! What is going on, question?"
"Rocky, thank god," Grace huffed, "I don't know, something super weird happened in the water and now there's some big metal thing there that wasn't there before and –"
"Heartbeat," Rocky interjected.
"Sorry, what?" Grace said.
"Heartbeat," Rocky repeated. "Big metal thing in water has alive thing with heartbeat inside. Can hear it."
Everything in Grace's brain short-circuited at once. "I – what?" he laughed out anxiously. He felt a bit lightheaded.
A beat of silence.
Rocky was matter-of-fact and somber. "Grace, alive thing is dying."
"Oh my God." A million thoughts raced through his mind all at once. A person? A Project Hail Mary, part two? No, an alien species? First contact all over again? "We have to pull it out. That metal thing, from the water. Then the person – er, alive thing." Grace looked back at the water, where only a sliver of the metal shape poked out above the waves, settled on the shallow artificial seafloor. Dark red water still swirled around it, disturbingly blood-like. "Please tell me you have people and things to do this quick?"
"Team equipped for retrieval on the way now," Rocky answered quickly. Right on cue, four Eridians in Xenonite suits came crawling through the airlock, hauling a number of foreign materials along with them that Grace couldn't distinguish, but imagined to be helpful.
Rocky volleyed some questions and instructions back and forth with one of the Eridians before the team of four began marching to the shoreline.
"Grace." Rocky had his full attention. "Pull alive-thing out. Keep alive. Must go back now to check anomaly readings. Could be danger."
And with that, Rocky scurried away before Grace even had time to react. He tried to sputter out some kind of protest, but Rocky was gone, leaving him standing with fear welling in his chest. He looked over his shoulder where the team of four were already using a sort of pulley system to haul what now looked like a rusty, metal cylinder out of the ocean.
It looked… rough. Poorly crafted. Human-made.
Human.
A spark flew wildly in Grace's stomach at the thought.
The Eridians heaved the metal scrap onto the shore, Grace standing by and watching stupidly without knowing how to help.
He studied it as it was dragged onto the beach, no longer hidden by the rolling waves. It was big. Big, but not that big. Sort of cockpit-sized. It was rusty, worn-down, and submarine-like in structure. "SM-13" was large and legible on the side – a ship of some kind, it had to be. Whether it was a spaceship, or part of one… well, Grace wasn't sure.
There was also a hole blown into the side. Well, more like out of the side. Something that resembled a splintered tree trunk was shooting out of the metal, but the metal seemed almost fused with the organic material at the ship's wound. It was a sight to see.
One Eridian stepped forward with a cutting tool and began searing into the metal hull. The pace was slow and agonizing, the suspense of the matter searing into his own chest. The Eridian was silent through the endeavor, the other three standing close by, watching. Only the lapping of the waves and the hissing of the tool remained to be heard. Everyone was standing by with closed vents and bated breath.
His mind started unthawing from its stupor as he stood frozen, waiting. Okay, stay calm. The most likely scenario… He began to think in broken, fleeting thoughts that his scrambled mind could muster.
Project Hail Mary. Maybe they had sent someone else? Another suicide mission with a second crew or individual, just to make sure the mission wasn't a bust? Yeah, no, Stratt would never be associated with a rust bucket like this – it paled miserably in comparison to the Hail Mary. The ship in front of him was small, haphazard, and looked decades behind in tech.
Plus, the anomalous event was just… inexplicable. He had never seen anything like it. The bright light, the eerie cacophony, none of it was something he could wrap his head around. He was a molecular biologist who taught eighth grade science, he didn't really like to mess around with… quantum physics, or whatever the heck this was. That's all his brain could settle on for now. Large-scale quantum teleportation.
Not exactly scientific, but not exactly ruled out, either.
He fell back to aliens. Could this be an alien ship or device? Nope, actually, most definitely not alien, according to the "SM-13" on the side of the ship, unless some alien species out there happened to share those exact same roman and numerical characters. His thoughts kept volleying, talking over one another.
Human.
That's the only conclusion he came to. No further details.
Grace was then ripped from his thoughts. The cut section of the wall was lodged free; it slammed against the sand as thick, red liquid surged out of the large opening. It was horribly deep and viscous, and it reeked of blood and iron. It smelled both living and dead. It poured, and poured, and poured onto the beach.
It… it was blood. It had to be.
A sudden wave of nausea rolled over him.
The Eridians had scattered in panic and were chirping wildly.
"What is this, question?"
"Danger, question?"
"Is so much liquid!"
"Danger to Grace, question?"
Right. Why would Eridians know what blood was? Their blood was mercury. Only Rocky might know, but he was on the other side of the dome, assessing the crisis situation via numbers and data.
Grace's heart was in his throat. "It's okay guys, it's just, uh…" The smell was making his throat close up tight. Everything was, in fact, not okay. The rush of liquid had subsided, but some blood was still oozing out. Was this whole thing alive or something? That's too much blood. Too, too much for any living thing. Maybe, hopefully, just maybe it wasn't blood. But Grace didn't like any of the other creative options his brain presented him with.
"Grace know what this is, question?"
"Yeah, I – I think so. Maybe. I hope not."
Then he heard something from inside. A horrible, sputtering, wet coughing sound. Closer to a drowning gurgle than anything else.
"Uh, hello?" Grace called as adrenaline shot into his throat. Oh, God, this might actually be a person, he thought. Please, God, let them be okay, let them make it.
Another small sputtering noise, weaker this time. He barely even heard it.
Grace looked down. Oh, thank God, he was wearing shorts. And he was already barefoot from his walk on the beach. He tore off his cardigan and tossed it into the dry sand behind him.
He was tired of being a coward in the face of everything uncertain. He had been a coward once when it mattered most. He had saved humanity and cheated death; he could muster it within himself to save one person.
God, he hoped he could save this one person.
Grace stepped forward slowly, wandering further onto the granular, blood-soaked sand, craning his neck to try and peer inside the opening. The inside was mostly the same as the outside, but… coated in blood. It dripped slowly down the walls in viscous clumps. He couldn't see the floor.
But he did see a person.
A face and chest peeking out of the pond of blood, every feature coated in the substance. It was hard to see much in the dark space, but the texture on their face was rough. The person was very still. Then, another sputter. Spats of blood flew like phlegm from their throat.
"Hey, are you okay?"
God, what a stupid question. No, they weren't okay.
No response.
Grace mustered every bit of courage in his body, pushed down the nausea, and climbed inside. His foot met the smooth surface of metal underneath the thick layer of blood. It was warm and came up past his ankle. Another wave of nausea hit him as it sloshed where he stepped both feet, the fresh, hot smell hitting his senses.
"Okay," he breathed shakily, speaking only to himself now.
An Eridian voice broke the still air outside of the ship. "Heartbeat," they said. "Like Grace heart. But is slow. Likely dying."
Grace was shot back into the reality of the situation with the sonorous notes, a reminding echo of what Rocky had indicated earlier. Right, this was a life-or-death situation – Grace had to act now. He couldn't keep putting his own comfort first.
He took a knee into the blood and hooked his elbows under the figure's armpits. "Oh, that's heavy," he grunted to himself, underestimated how much a grown adult could weigh under the Eridian gravity. "Sorry, stranger."
Grace braced, and hauled. His foot slipped against the slick metal, and his body thumped against the metal floor. He caught himself in time, but he was now half-submerged in the disturbingly warm blood. The person grunted and sputtered when they slipped from Grace's grasp.
Grace tried again, breathing more heavily now. He was mentally kicking himself for not working out more often. He should have kept up his physical therapy. He should still be strength training. But, not all too long ago, he was recovering from severe malnutrition on the Hail Mary. The Eridians didn't have a caloric solution immediately waiting for him when he arrived. For a while, his diet had been Taumoeba. Then, eventually, Eridian nutrient shakes. Re-introducing solid food was hard. Working out when you felt weak was hard. It had been a slow, slow recovery.
He grunted and huffed as he hauled the person, jerkily and messily, splashing hot blood everywhere, the smell of life and rot burning his nose. "Little help here?" he strained out. The Eridians chirped and trilled nervously and jumped into motion. It made sense that they wanted Grace to go in first, unsure if Eridians would be needed in a situation involving what was probably a human. Now, they were needed.
They clambered into the ship, their Xenonite suits sloshing in the blood, twenty little arms moving all at once. They positioned their bodies around the figure and shoved their arms underneath, lifting.
The blood-soaked body was elevated out of the liquid, and Grace flinched at what he saw next. "O–kay," he sung, trying to keep himself calm, "he's missing an arm." The body's left side had a shoulder, but not much beyond that. Grotesquely shredded skin met negative space where the rest of an arm should be. It looked new. Very, very new. Like, needs attention right now, new. He felt a discomforting tingle under his skin and suddenly felt like everything happening wasn't real. Oh, but it was very, very real.
With the added labor, Grace was able to guide the body through the breach. He stumbled clumsily during the process, now aware of his own shakiness. His legs felt like jelly.
"Here is good, guys," Grace instructed weakly once the body was past the threshold, blood trailing behind them the whole way. The body was lowered gently to meet the shore with a wet sound.
Now in the light, the first thing Grace had glimpsed was a soaked shirt clung to a strong, masculine chest. Then, Grace worked his eyes up to a mangled face that was painted in red, covered in clusters of something like boils or pustules. It made him think of corrosion, the way his face looked like it had been trying to physically bubble and mutate. Something shaped like a set of sharp teeth was crawling across his left cheek, jutting out from the skin.
Grace had to wrench his eyes away to focus back on the man's arm – or, lack of one. God, it was so stringy and mutilated, and he think he caught a glimpse of raw bone. He swallowed down some threatening bile.
"Towel, I need a towel or something," Grace muttered to himself, everyone, and no one in particular. He scrambled to his feet and started moving towards the house. His next words were directed vaguely at the Eridians. "You guys just wait here. No, actually, go get Rocky." He felt like he was no longer in his own body.
Grace burst through his own front door, dripping with slowly drying blood. Armando whirred around to face him. "Welcome back, Grace–"
"Not right now, Armando," Grace overlapped gruffly. Then, back to muttering to himself. "Need a towel, need a towel…"
A thought struck him as he was beelining towards the bathroom closet. "Armando." The medical robot whizzed around again. "I need you to be a doctor again."
Armando twisted its primary lens and clicked a few times. "Patient appears in good health, though slightly distressed. Breathing exercises advised."
Grace moved for the towels. "No, not me, someone–" Towels came tumbling down, along with some toiletries that clattered against the floor. "Never mind, just stay here." Grace was breathless. Then he was gone again. Armando watched his exit silently.
Grace ran back to the sore sight with towels bunched up in his arms, already stained red where they met his body. The hunk of metal, "SM-13," and its single occupant lay quietly on the beach, accompanied only by a single Eridian that stood statue-still watchfully.
Yeah, okay, this was really happening.
The remaining Eridian noticed Grace's approach. "They bring Rocky now," they explained as Grace jogged forward.
"Good, okay," Grace responded, not really sure what the Eridian just said or what he was saying back. His own voice felt hollow.
His knees hit the ground and he shoved a towel around the person's arm stump. It quickly soaked through. Grace felt like he was going to be sick. A second towel. Pressure. He didn't know much about the medical world of science, but he at least knew how to slow the bleeding.
He held the towels in place with such force, he knew the man under him would be screaming if he had been awake. He was out cold right now. Thank God he wasn't awake for this. Even Grace could barely handle it, thinking about the pain second-hand. He felt lightheaded.
It wasn't long before Rocky came running, almost rolling, up to him. "Is human, question?" he said immediately and frantically, noticing the human-shaped thing Grace was tending to. Rocky sounded more amazed and incredulous than anything, rather than actually asking if it was a human.
"Yes," Grace gasped out, "yes, this is a human all right." He felt faint.
"Team is bringing more equipment now," Rocky stated. "What is wrong with human, question?"
"Uh, still trying to figure that one out, bud." Grace re-folded the towels over the person's shoulder, trying for the less soaked parts. "He's missing an arm, for one. That's definitely not good."
"Oh. Not good."
Grace glanced over his shoulder and saw the three Eridians returning with something that strongly resembled a stretcher – even carrying it like one, too. The Eridian by his side that was presumably placed on watch duty sprung into action and assimilated with the rest to fill the role of the fourth corner-carrier.
"I have them bring device for carrying, large enough for human," Rocky explained. "Medical robot from ship still does medical things, question?"
"Yeah, looks like we're on the same page there. Let's get this guy to Armando, I'm not sure how long he'll hold up like this." Grace was surprised how clearly he was able to speak. He felt like a mess on the inside.
Grace stepped back to let the Eridian team of four hoist the individual onto the form-fitting surface. The group transported him swiftly, and Grace jogged to the front to get the door.
"Where put human, question?" one of the Eridians asked.
"Patient in critical state detected," Armando asserted, whizzing forward.
Grace was already overwhelmed.
"Ah, jeez – uh, the kitchen table," he said in a panic, choosing the first large surface he laid eyes on. Seemed medical enough.
The short Eridians climbed the dining chairs like scaffolding and made quick work of the request. The man was transferred off the stretcher and laid carefully onto the table.
Armando was over him before the Eridians even had time to climb away. "Preparation," the robot narrated as various tools began to twist and buzz and rattle. Grace looked on with a horrible feeling of helplessness.
"Disinfection." Armando sprayed something over the raw, mangled stump, and the man suddenly writhed on the table and screamed. "Movement detected. Restraining," Armando continued to narrate as white ropes shot out from the robot arm and around the man's body.
"Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold on, we don't need to do all that, do we?" Grace was stepping forward before he knew what he was doing. All he saw was a disfigured person in pain and a robot arm trying to restrain said person. It just rubbed him wrong. "Do we really have to restrain him?"
Armando didn't answer him and continued to work. The ropes were already firmly in place. The man on the table was breathing raggedly through gritted teeth, eyes pressed shut. "Fuck," he hissed before falling into a fit of gurgling coughs. Red phlegm flew into the air.
"Hey, it's okay!" Grace said unconvincingly, his voice higher than he'd prefer. The man continued to writhe, now limited to his restraints. His did his best to condole him while in his own distressed state. "It's fine, you'll be fine."
The man's eyes shot open. "Who the fuck are y–" he started viscously, his sentence cut off by a gag as Armando shoved a tube down his throat. The clear tube immediately turned red as it began sucking up blood. The man gurgled and thrashed.
"Oh, please don't move," Grace pleaded, almost a whimper.
"Sedation," Armando announced.
"Wait!" Grace yelped just as Armando jabbed a thin needle into the man's good arm. His movement slowed, his eyes going glassy as he stilled. His eyelids fluttered closed. And, he was out.
A horrible memory had resurfaced.
Armando's movement kept him grounded in reality. The robot very quickly snipped and sliced at hanging skin, then brought a glowing red plate to the remainder of the man's left arm. Grace was suddenly very thankful that the man was sedated as hot metal was pressed into his arm, cauterizing the raw stump. He felt worryingly ill at the sight. He thought it best to look away for the rest.
"Grace is distressed," Rocky pointed out.
"Yeah, that's a fair assumption," Grace said, looking anywhere but the event on his kitchen table as medical sounds ensued.
The four other Eridians were still standing nearby, patient and watchful. They stood in a line as if waiting for their next command.
"Hey, guys, you don't have to be here for this," Grace offered.
"New human is in critical state. We are here to assist in keeping new human alive," one of them spoke up. "Is our job."
Another Eridian chimed in. "Our job also to protect Grace. Do not yet know if new human is dangerous."
"Yes," Rocky added, "they are here to monitor and keep new human alive, but keeping Grace alive always most important."
Grace mulled this over. This was a fair point he hadn't consciously realized. He turned his attention back to the man on his table. Ignoring whatever Aramando was doing to his arm, he focused on his face and looked again at what he had transiently noticed in his panic earlier. The welts on his face. The outline of teeth on his cheek, caked in now-drying blood. Sharp, pointy, predatory teeth.
He was human, but in this state, he looked like a monster.
Armando moved from his arm to his face, now interested in cleaning him up. He sprayed and wiped down his features, revealing the ivory-whiteness of the teeth jutting out from meaty mounds resembling gums. The pustules were yellow and inflamed. Grace's stomach started to fill with dread. With the blood gone and the area sterilized, Armando grabbed hold of a tooth with a small clamp. Then, he yanked it. The action made a small squelching sound. Grace looked away again.
He heard the same sound as Armando yanked out every tooth, one by one.
"Rocky," Grace said, trying to distract himself, "Did you learn anything about the anomaly?"
"Not much," Rocky admitted. "Does not make sense to our scientists. Yet. They are still working. But…" He tapped the ground lightly as he thought. "Energy and electromagnetism readings are certain. Something weird weird weird occurred in artificial ocean." He thought again for a moment, then turned his carapace towards Grace. "Is okay if scientists stay inside for a while to observe anomaly location, question?"
"Yes, please, actually," Grace replied. He felt very uneasy about it all. Then he paused as he remembered the blinding light. "I… I saw it as it was happening. It was like a light source, but it slowly got bigger, and it kind of had a…" he overlapped his hands with sprawled fingers, "…shape to it. And it sounded horrible."
"Yes, Rocky and others could hear sounds from outside. Very strange."
"It also created, uh, a field of distortion. Like, it messed with my vision, you know?"
"Rocky does not have vision. Rocky does not know."
"Right, yeah." Grace rubbed his neck, bothered by the whole situation and frustrated by his inability to describe it. "Well, I mean, maybe it wasn't just affecting my kind of vision. Maybe you could have seen it too. I dunno, I've never experienced anything like it."
Rocky moved on, wanting to know more. "Human and human-container arrived when anomaly appeared, question?"
"Yeah, it like… popped out of it. Like–" Grace imitated something coming into existence by balling his fists, then quickly spreading out his fingers. "Like it teleported, almost."
"Grace is sounding very unscientific." Rocky sounded unamused.
"I know, but I'm serious!" Grace retorted.
Rocky was silent for a moment. Thinking again. "Human from Earth, question?"
"Probably? He's definitely human. Humans aren't from anywhere else but Earth. I just don't understand…" He trailed off. "I don't understand how he's here. I can't even begin to put together what happened to him," he mused, thinking back to the tattered arm, face-teeth, and speared ship full of something uncannily resemblant to blood. "Everything about him is so alien."
Their conversation was interrupted by a robotic tone. "Procedure complete." Armando shifted back to his default posture, now quiet and still.
Grace turned back to the person on his table, still restrained and sedated. He looked much more cleaned up – granted, his clothes were still blood-soaked and there was still a murderous trail of blood from the door to the table. But his arm was a clean stump now, red and tender and yet leagues better than the shredded state it was in before. His face was free of unwanted teeth, the creature-esque ivory replaced with small stitches. Medical cloth covered much of the rest of his face, but it was no longer raised where the pustules once were.
"Patient has extensive loss of blood. Blood transfusion recommended."
"What?" Grace said, not even sure how to begin processing what Armando was insinuating, who was looking directly at him with that large, beady-black lens.
"Blood transfusion recommended," Armando repeated.
Graced laughed nervously, followed by him clearing his throat, followed by him controlling his expression. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Armando responded with actions rather than words, thrusting a tool forward at Grace and pricking him in the arm before he had time to react. "Ow!" he yelped, more spooked by the sudden movement than anything.
"Blood type is O negative. Suitable for transfusion."
"Are we serious right now?" Grace exclaimed. "I'm coma-resistant and a universal donor?"
"Blood transfusion recommended. Patient will likely expire without immediate intervention."
Grace was feeling more uncomfortable by the second. He looked at Rocky for some kind of moral support.
"What is problem, question?"
"I'm…" Afraid of needles, he wanted to say, but suddenly felt very, very silly. His cowardice was again proving itself to be a serious character flaw.
Rocky cocked his carapace, body language communicating confusion. He had learned it from Grace long ago.
"Never mind," Grace said. He already felt his throat going dry. He pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat in it heavily. He rested his forearm along the edge of the table, exposing his old burn scar. "Armando, just do it." He threw his head back and shut his eyes.
Armando wasted no time. Grace felt a band wrap tight around his upper arm, followed by a quick swab, then a prick in the crook of his elbow. This wasn't the hard part. The hard part was…
"O–kay," Grace said tightly as he felt an icy wave roll through his entire upper body. He suddenly felt incredibly hot, aware of the perspiration gathering on his forehead and on the palms of his hands.
"Grace okay, question? Grace heartbeat very slow, very sudden," Rocky sung concerningly.
"Yeah, 'm fine," he said faintly. He felt very much not fine. He was then hit with a wave of nausea. He balled his clammy hands into tight fists. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, fighting the tunnel vision that closed in around him. God, he couldn't catch a break. "Armando, are we almost done?"
"Estimating about nine minutes remaining."
"Oh dear God," Grace breathed, his voice shaky. He felt the blood flowing quick. "Rocky, I don't know if I'm gonna make it."
"Death?" Rock squeaked, high and anxious.
"No, no, Rock, I just might pass out," he explained through half-gritted teeth. "S'fine, I'll wake up." His own voice was sounding further and further away.
Rocky started protesting, but Grace wasn't listening.
He was out.
And he was back again.
He blinked slowly. He still felt like crap. "Was I out? How long?" he mumbled.
"Twelve seconds," Rocky stated.
Grace made a sound closer to a whine than a groan.
"I hate this, I hate this so much."
"How help, question?"
Grace weakly explained vasovagal syncope, to Rocky's fascination, and listed off a few things that could help. Erid didn't exactly have a ready supply of cookies and orange juice, so they settled on a glass of water. The Eridian quartet retrieved this for him from the installed tap, working together to act quickly and avoid clumsy mistakes in their bulky suits.
Grace received the glass of water with thanks. He sipped on it slowly, still woozy. He still felt pretty awful.
"I want this to be over."
"Understand, friend," Rocky sympathized. He shifted a little, like he wanted to say something else. It was quiet for a moment before he sang his next notes. "Grace home is designed for one human. Now two humans. What will new human need?"
"Good question, Rock," Grace hummed, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling again. His thoughts hadn't caught up enough to begin considering this. Having a houseguest for the duration of his hospice on an alien planet was an odd reality to digest. Everything about this situation was hard to digest. "I'll need to think about it."
"Patient vitals stabilizing. Transfusion complete." Once Armando announced the good news, the needles slipped out of the arms of the donor and receiver, and small bandages took their place.
"About time," Grace huffed, still not at a hundred.
"Patient sedation wearing off."
That's not what Grace was ready to hear. All the Eridians in the room shuffled closer.
"Like, right now?" Grace pressed, feeling panicked. He retrieved his arm from the table and turned to face the stranger.
Armando gave no response.
The stranger stirred slightly.
Grace held his breath.
After a few seconds followed a groan, low and quiet.
Grace decided to speak first, to try and give him some kind of gentle introduction into this strange new world.
"Hey there, um…" He already felt like an idiot. "You okay?"
"Huh? Who're you?" the stranger croaked out slowly and groggily. His deep voice was gravelly with trauma and sedation.
"I'm…" Grace thought for a moment. He wasn't sure why he hitched. Maybe because… probably because he hadn't had to introduce himself properly in a very, very long time. He suddenly felt a little more human. "Grace," he answered.
"You…" The stranger was looking at him with watchful, bloodshot eyes. What was a face lax with sedation was now a strained, piercing gaze. "No. Who are you?" He sounded cautious, maybe even a little angry.
"I'm just… Grace, Ryland Grace. Scientist. Teacher." Grace twirled a hand in consideration. "Uh, astronaut, I guess."
"Bullshit."
Grace tensed and huffed nervously. He was taken aback. "Uh, what do you mean? The astronaut part? Yeah, I still don't believe it myself–"
"No, ass-hat," he spat back, "you're with the C.O.I., aren't you? You're–" He flinched, looking down at the restraints that held him in place. He thrashed against them, testing their strength. "You're keeping me alive to put me back in that fucking ocean again!" he accused, ripping his voice with the emotion.
"Whoa, hey." Grace opened his palms in a loose surrender. He felt like he was back in class, trying to handle an unruly student. He learned after long enough that the first thing to do was let them know that you're on their side – too many kids just had a bad go with the adults in their lives. "We're not gonna hurt you. I really have no idea where you came from or what you're talking about, but I'm just trying to help you."
"You better give me a damn good reason to believe you're not with the C.O.I." He tested the restraints one more time.
"Uh, well, for one… I have no idea what that is." Grace took a stab at the acronym. "Company of… investigation, maybe?"
"Oh, great," he groaned. "Fucking comedian." He writhed and squirmed. "Just tell me what you fucking want. I'm so sick and tired of this shit." He grit his teeth and hissed out the last syllable.
"Alright, okay! Just, how about you tell me your name first?"
"Why?" he spat.
"Well, I told you mine – and I, uh, feel like we could establish a little bit of shared humanity between us first," Grace suggested.
The stranger closed his eyes, looking like he was mulling over something deeply. He sucked in a deep breath, a painful one that made his eyebrows knit together. He opened his eyes once his decision was made.
"Simon."