Ro 💕

He approaches his new shipmate exactly the way he'd approach a frightened wild animal: slowly, hands visible, no sudden movements. He recognizes the expression of a man who expects every question to become an interrogation, like he’s waiting for the catch, the other shoe to drop. There isn't one, at least not from Ryland. 

Instead of prying questions, he asks things like:

"Do you want water?"

"Feel like breakfast?"

"Would you like to rest?"

That's it. There are no demands, no accusations, and never any strings attached. Ryland only asks simple questions without hidden motives. The frustrating bit is no matter how he rewords said questions, it seems Simon still doesn't know how to answer him, almost like the other man is… scared. Of what, Ryland hasn't a single clue, but it's a problem, and he doesn't know what to do about it.

He can't seem to figure out the right combination of words that will convince Simon that he has no ulterior motive, that yes, he does in fact just want to know if Simon is thirsty! No, it's not a threat; of course he can have water whenever he needs it. Ryland isn't a monster! Jiminy Christmas!

When he inevitably asks Rocky for advice, the alien lets out a gust of wind from his vents—what Ryland has come to interpret as the Eridian version of an exasperated sigh.

“Grace is not good at communication. Must be more do, less talk.”

It takes Ryland an embarrassingly long time to figure out what the hell his best friend means, ignoring the savage diss. When it does click, Ryland changes tactics and works to communicate without words. Instead of asking if Simon is hungry, Ryland offers a snack as he munches on his own meager rations—usually taumeoba, but Simon doesn't need to know that—or slides the other man a water pouch while he slurps on his own. Bedtime is choreographed and deliberate, blankets and pillows left out haphazardly like a sloppy nest, and snatched at a whim.

Does all of this mean that the ship has gotten a bit messy? Yes. But has he succeeded in getting Simon to actually follow Ryland’s lead? Also yes.

------ °• ☆ •° ------

After a prolonged period of cohabitation with the strange man named Grace, Simon is told he can meet the other inhabitant of the Hail Mary if he'd like. Of course, he knows he doesn't actually have a choice in the matter, as Grace seems to be the ranking officer and Simon is just a random charity case the guy picked up on a whim or something. So of course he agrees, because denying Grace when the man looks so– so hopeful makes his gut twist like he's eaten something rancid. 

(He's also not willing to risk pissing off the one guy who—within Simon's shitty, relatively recent life history—has not been a blatant fucking asshole to him if Simon so much as breathes… at least, he hasn't yet, and he definitely doesn’t want to give Grace a reason to start.)

Grace talks a lot, but when he starts dropping hints and bits about this “Rocky” guy he intends to introduce Simon to, it's like the floodgates are open and the Ark is unmoored upon the unending sea. From what Simon can gather from the other man’s lengthy ramblings, “Rocky” is Grace's best friend and the ship’s engineer. Apparently, the guy can make anything, and he's amazing, blah blah fucking blah. Grace seriously sings the guy’s praises just as much as he gripes about him, how with “Rocky” around there's no privacy and how he’s “so bossy, Simon, you wouldn't believe it!” 

Through all the rambling, Simon gleans two very crucial bits of intel: number one, Grace values this “Rocky” incredibly highly and credits the guy with saving his life. And number two, “Rocky” is definitely not human.

Simon isn't honestly sure what to expect before meeting this mysterious engineer Grace can't shut up about. He half assumes “Rocky” is another robot like Armando or the ship's AI Mary, because based on simple context cues it makes the most sense, but a smaller part of him wonders if maybe “Rocky” is more than simply not human.

Turns out he's right. Rocky is definitely not human.

He's a fucking alien.

If Simon thought Grace was strange, well… this new alien is even stranger.

After their introductions—during which Simon was tense and anxious as fuck—Simon finds himself warming to the alien faster than he'd anticipated. Rocky uses a translator to speak to Simon, even though it's blatantly obvious that the thing is rudimentary at best and only being used for Simon's sake. Grace certainly doesn't need it anymore, somehow being fluent in fucking rock spider harmonics or some shit. Initially, Simon keeps himself on guard when the alien speaks, waiting for the malevolence and insidious words he's grown accustomed to from the previous alien species he's encountered. That malevolence? It never shows, nor do the insidious words, despite Rocky’s abundant proof of his obvious, and in some ways abrasive, sapience. The worst he gets is the weird alien getting particularly snappish and rude, insulting, but… it’s impersonal in a way the eel never was. The overwhelming absence of malicious manipulation slowly releases something clenched tightly, deep in Simon's chest.

The way Rocky speaks is blunt and to the point, and he even uses tone indicators regularly in his speech, which Simon is increasingly grateful for. The alien never asks Simon if he’s okay or if he's feeling a certain way, which is a massive relief on Simon's cortisol levels. Rocky simply… notices and recognizes patterns better than anyone Simon has ever known. According to Grace, Rocky and his species—Eridians, they're called—have what is effectively an eidetic memory, never forgetting anything they learn. Although the alien lives in an entirely separate environment (or that weird ball thing he uses to be a menace and move more freely around the ship), it becomes apparent that the Eridian is purposefully changing his routes through the ship so Simon is never accidentally cornered, making sure to announce his presence loudly at a distance, and seems to be trying to include Simon in discussions between himself and Grace, even if Simon has nothing meaningful to contribute.

Quite frankly Simon doesn't fucking understand how he does it, nor why he does it. But he's grateful for the obnoxious asshole regardless.

------ °• ☆ •° ------

It doesn’t take long before Simon’s food habits become concerning. Ryland notices the way he skips meals entirely unless he feels like he’s contributed in some way to the productivity onboard Mary for the day cycle. Rocky dropped the bomb regarding how the other human portions out what he’s given into impossibly small pieces to stretch it further, and how he hides away what remains. His actions aren’t exactly subtle. 

Simon is still operating like food is earned and not a right, like he has to balance the scales to avoid falling into a trap. Trying to reason with, to explain to a traumatized person that there are no traps and that there will never be any traps seems a futile endeavor, so while Ryland notices Simon’s behaviors and habits, for a while he chooses to let it go. The man is adjusting to a life where suddenly scarcity isn’t the same, and yeah, they still have to watch their food intake until the plants in the greenhouse produce edible offerings, but they have to eat. 

Eventually, though, Simon’s poor eating hygiene gets to a point where Ryland can no longer hold his tongue. He waits for a time close to the end of day cycle on the Mary, when Rocky is in the room with them but not fully paying attention to what the two humans are doing. He’s holding Simon’s dinner rations in one hand (something warm, real in a way that makes his own mouth water) and his own manufactured taumeoba-coma slurry abomination in the other. He takes a deep breath.

“Simon.”

There’s no response from the other man, but Ryland clocks the way Simon flinches at his own name, tension shooting across the broad span of his shoulders and straightening his spine like a soldier standing at attention. Ryland’s heart throbs.

“You don't have to earn food here, okay?”

There’s still no response. Rocky pauses his task only for a brief moment before seamlessly slipping right back into it as though he’d never noticed.

“I promise you… nobody's keeping score.”

Ryland quietly sets the food near the other man, backing away with soft steps towards the door. With a subtle beckoning gesture directed at a pretending-he’s-not-listening Rocky, Ryland and the Eridian leave their wayward passenger alone in the room. 

------ °• ☆ •° ------

Simon stares at the offering left behind. It's such a foreign concept, he doesn't know the right answer to give Grace—he doesn’t know how to accept such a gift, such impossible kindness. He’s not being asked “have you been useful enough?” or “what have you done to contribute to deserve this?” It’s just a simple inquiry, something that he’s seen repeated now over and over and over again, no deviation in the pattern, nothing hidden beneath the surface. 

It’s– it’s just…

It’s kindness freely given. He still doesn’t fully believe it, the way he’s just– just expected to accept these blessings with zero expectations, zero strings, zero intention hiding in the fine print waiting to drop him into servitude. 

He doesn't touch the food until Grace has been gone for almost an hour. It’s cold by then, but the flavors still explode across his tongue in such a way that he can’t help the tears that escape. He doesn’t get to be this lucky… but how can he deny the reality of the situation?

How can he deny such a– such a kindness?

Grace’s kindness?

------ °• ☆ •° ------

------ °• ☆ •° ------

Something hears him.

Whatever it is—God, Eldritch horror, quantum nonsense, the threads stitching together the fabric of the very universe—has an odd sense of humor, as his final prayer is interpreted quite literally.

------ °• ☆ •° ------

The Hail Mary is three and a half years into her journey to Erid, her two inhabitants having fallen into a routine as they hurtle through space at light speeds.

Ryland is in the middle of attempting to rekindle the tiny greenhouse he discovered seven months ago. Honestly, he’s still shocked that Eva would consider giving them something like a garden, but it makes more sense when he finds the botany books tucked away in Captain Yao’s possessions.

Apparently their late captain was something of a hobbyist green thumb, who’d have thunk?

Ryland, on the other hand, is just as good at obliterating these seedlings as he was back on Earth—he remembers the plant biology module where he somehow managed to kill his bean sprout every time, without fail. Green thumb? Hardly.

He’s in the middle of mixing a new batch of potting soil from the compost waste he stopped Mary from releasing into space as they travelled—he’d been both irrationally embarrassed and horrified that so much useful biomatter has been lost when he realized that’s what she’s been doing all this time—when Mary suddenly makes an unprompted announcement.

Unregistered biological lifeform detected in Cargo Bay Two.

Grace blinks, his smudged glasses sliding down his nose as he stares at nothing. “...What.”

Mary continues, the AI undeterred by his non-response.

Life signs are unstable. Recommend relocating to Medical Bay for treatment and monitoring, Doctor Grace.

Rocky comes barrelling down the corridor in his hamster ball, ricocheting off the walls of the ship in his excitement. Of course, he is immediately intrigued by the impossible turn of events.

“New human, question?”

“No!” Ryland sighs, “... probably not?"

“Amaze amaze amaze! Grace Rocky go to Cargo Bay exclamation!” he rattles off, trilling his excitement as he hurtles onward toward the tiny cargo hold.

Ryland is… considerably less so. He groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and shoving his smeared glasses up his forehead.

“Mary, I am blaming you for anything that happens because of this.”

Mary is utterly unfazed.

Acknowledged, Doctor Grace.

By the time he catches up with his Eridian best friend, the alien is practically bouncing his carapace with unrestrained energy. Ryland heaves a sigh and opens the cargo bay door.

What he sees defies possibility.

It should be impossible, something he’d long resigned himself to giving up hope on.

Because he sees a filthy, malnourished, horribly injured one-armed stranger bleeding all over the floor of his cargo bay.

Ryland closes the door, ignoring Rocky’s squawks of protest.

“...Nope.”

Silence reigns for one beat, then two as Ryland stares into middle distance, unseeing.

“Nope,” he repeats himself as Mary politely asks if she should explain the situation, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Mary… give me like thirty seconds to have an existential crisis.”

Ryland gusts out the exhausted sigh of someone who's already befriended a giant alien spider crab… thing. Blessedly, both Mary and Rocky grant him the requested thirty seconds.

“...yeah, nope. I'm not questioning this one.”

------ °• ☆ •° ------