#fox!grace

The creature does not respond, tilting its head at an image on a screen. According to the texture map, it shows a video of Adrian life forms scudding across a slide. The creature watches the movements, then launches itself at the screen.

“Grace, no!”

Its feet slip on the smooth surface and something knocks to the ground with a high, musical note. The texture seems brittle, but thankfully it doesn’t shatter on impact. The movement of it must be enticing, though, because the creature follows it, pouncing its two forward limbs on the item. It proceeds to dig at it with its claws, before picking it up in its mouth and trotting away. Its fifth limb is raised in something Rocky can only interpret as triumph.

“Grace fifth limb just for brag,” he gripes. “Grace not even know how stupid Grace act! Grace not even mad at Rocky insults!” What was the point of sassing people when they couldn’t understand you??

He follows the creature from his side of the tunnel. There’s not much he can do if it gets into trouble, but at least he can watch. In a way, it’s like Grace is asleep when this happens. He ceases to understand who he is, or where, or why. He ceases to be able to speak or to know things. And he never remembers what happens when he is Grace again. Very much like sleeping. So Rocky will watch over him.

The creature — a fox, Grace calls it, but the word is meaningless to Rocky; the literal translation of his own word for it is something akin to ‘little-Grace-stink-pest’ — drops the bottle it had taken as a trophy, and begins to play with it, picking it up and releasing it quickly so it flings into the air, then eagerly chasing after it.

Rocky settles in to observe, four legs folded beneath him; he keeps one hand on the xenonite barrier, tapping frequently to get a clear view. Grace has gone from long and looming to something much smaller than Rocky himself, and seemingly that much more fragile. He has grown a fifth limb, though it does not appear to function either for ambulation or dexterity, and traded his woven fabric covering for a hazy texture that densely coats his body. It makes him hard for Rocky to focus on. Something about him is always just a little blurry, which means that he is soft, soft, soft. Much softer than Tall-Grace.

Clunk goes the bottle again, bouncing off the xenonite before landing in Grace’s bedding, where it rests piled against the barrier. The fox chases after it, but has lost visual. Earth light-sense is useless. Can’t he sense it beyond the fabric?

“Over there,” Rocky tries to help. Grace is not performing his experiments, but he seems intent on his current mission. “Right. No, more left. There, under sleep-thing. Yes— no, no—” he points and gestures, but these things don’t seem to have meaning to a creature with no pointing appendages. What they do accomplish is shifting its attention. It turns toward him, tracking the motion of his arms. It does a little wriggle of its body, legs shifting more solidly beneath it. “Grace,” Rocky warns sternly. “Do not—” 

Thwump! The fox crashes into the clear barrier, a much softer impact than the bottle, and slides to the floor. “Must still be Grace,” Rocky muses through a laugh, “because still have none.”

The creature recovers and begins sprinting around the room, its hazy layer puffed out and tail kinked. Rocky’s not sure there is a point to this behavior, but he knows the feeling. He has done it himself when his own excitement was too great to contain. He thinks of excited pebbles scrambling around on Erid, launching off of surfaces and getting their legs tangled. Grace does not have the space on the Hail Mary to run or jump or do much of anything in his normal shape — but there is plenty of room for a tiny-stink-beast, and maybe Rocky can understand this one thing about it. He might not understand why humans change shape without warning, or forget who they are, or launch their children into the stars to die. But he can understand the urge to run for no other reason than because you are free. And finding freedom in the place meant to be your tomb is an incredible thing.

Once it has spent its energy, it curls up against the xenonite directly where Rocky sits. Not the bedding, nor any of the articles of clothing strewn about the place. Rocky taps fondly against the barrier. Maybe there is just enough of Grace in there to know him. Maybe every part of Grace knows he is safe when he’s with Rocky.

“Is okay, Little-Grace. Rocky here when you come back.”

----

I have woken at the roots of one of countless grand trees. Looking around they seem to repeat themselves without giving me any clue of direction. It is shaded but not dark. As I pointlessly try to look around myself, trying to catch any clue of where and why, my ear twitches at a faint sound of a branch breaking somewhere above me. Not a second later, the said branch hits a ground not a few trees away. The fur on my back stands up involuntarily as I frantically try to look up to see what or who has caused it. Sadly I can’t make out anything. With my tail tightly pressed down by hinds I try to approach the spot to see if the branch was there. That I didn’t just imagine it as a delayed leftover of a dream. But I hear a new break instead. This time on the grown level. 

Someway behind me. 

I instantly jump around, taking a sturdier stance. Paws and claws digging in the soft flora covered ground. Snarling, exposing my teeth to possible threats. But my boast is short-lived as I come more and more aware of other animals around me. The breathings, the shadows, the pairs of gleaming eyes that stare back at me. All threatening. All overpowering. 

I’m not alone here.

Yet I’m on my own. 

I let my stance drop to submissive one, tail back to the ground, ears folded against my head. Hoping that this would be enough. I’m about to lower my body back against the ground in total surrender when a deep growl echoes towards me. At that point I abandon any hope of a peace treaty and bolt in the opposite way from where I heard the closest sound. The second I sprint away, the others follow. 

Some footfalls land heavier than mine, shaking the ground with each stride, while others match my own light rhythm. I swear I could even hear the flap of the wings. But there is no chance to take a look behind or above. Only forward. Only to get away.

I pour everything into my sprint! With each passed tree my tempo sharpens and what was first a frantic dodging became more fluid weaving between towering trees and dense thickets. The rhythmic thud of my paws hitting the ground, breaking and throwing dirt in the air behind me gets faster and faster, but is getting outrun by my own heart beat that I feel ringing in my ears. It is warming me up. It is getting hot. I let the tongue lull out of my mouth as I keep the frantic breathing as even as I can. Where am I running to? I have no clue. But it’s clear that it is not safe to stay. So anywhere else would be better. 

I try to change direction, hoping desperately to find a place to hide when a sharp pain tears through my left hind leg. A bite. Someone bit me! Ignoring the pain I adjust my course away from the other animal. It doesn’t take long for a bird to dive from above and dig its talons into my hide, scratching me. I let out a yip, more from startle than pain. At this point I’m in too much panic to register the latter. It dawns on me that they are able to catch on to me easily. This is all just a thrill of a chase for them. A game. And I’m the prey. 

Why me?

I feel like crying, or screaming but I’m even more afraid of what they will do once I give up. So instead I just run faster. Fast enough that branches that hit me, the bleeding paw and burn in my lungs don’t affect me. 

I just want this to end!

As the tears escape my eyes, blown down my face by the wind from the run, I see a light in front of me. Something else but more trees peeking in the tree line ahead. And without anything to lose I head towards it, praying that the predators behind me won’t try to throw me off the said course.

With the goal visible, so close, the steps become agony. Trying to push myself there with all the might that I might not even have. Just away. Just to possible safety.

I finally break the tree line and the ground under my pawns turns into boulders. The light I saw was not light but thick white fog that is bright in comparison to where I came from. The new space is completely empty without any vegetation, so dash turns into hopping from one stone to another. After a few leaps I realize I don’t hear the chase anymore and finally dare to slow down, coming to a stop on a slightly higher boulder. 

I turn around and true to my instincts, other animals haven’t left the forest. The forest itself ends up abruptly where the rocks start, creating a vision of a massive wall of dark brown and green. From where I stand I’m not sure there is any entrance or exit. The fog is dense enough that even from this small distance the colors are slightly muted. With dumb braveness I reach back towards the tree line, maybe to see any of the chasers. Why would I want to see them? To rub it into their faces?

I bark towards the trees, my own echo bouncing back towards me quickly. I wait for any type of response, shaking at fear that someone would bite at the taunt and come out after all. But no. There is no response. I sit with it for a moment as a thought sinks in.

Maybe they weren’t hunting me… but chasing away?

I bark again, this time I sound more desperate. I am a fox. Forest is where I belong too? Why can’t I stay like other animals? Have I done something? All I remember is just waking up!

My third bark is more of a yap, more sad. 

Answer me!

I approach in hope of entering the forest again but after stepping on the second boulder a sharp bark stops me. It’s similar to me, a fox one.

The message is clear. They see me. I’m not welcomed. I have no way back. 

My tail, ears - whole posture drops as it sinks in. I really am now alone. I let the dread and sadness wash over me. Out of breathiness switches into sobs. The whole ordeal crashes down on me as immediate danger is over but fear of the unknown looms over me. Not having any heart to look at the betrayal of a home I drag myself towards the closest higher boulder, its peak sharper and not climbable. Walking around it I plop my body down, pulling my hind legs closer to lick the bite wound from the chase. Surprisingly, there isn’t much to nurse even though I swear I still feel the pain from the fangs. With a deep sigh I rest my head on my paw and tuck my tail as close as I can to myself. Stupidly hoping it would hide me. But all it can do is to cover my shameful tears that exhaust me enough to fall asleep again. 

___

A series of chittering scrapes. Fading familiar notes.

When I wake up again, I’m at the very same rock. Not sure how long I have been out but it takes me a few blinks to realize it is not my vision that is blurry, but the fog. The crust from dried tears is short lived as I blink it away and unenthusiastically get back up. Peeking behind the tall rock reveals still the same, unapologetic grand forest but this time I don’t dare to approach it. 

Instead I look the other way, towards what seems like never ending whiteness. All I see are the rocks. Bigger and small. Uneven and with smooth surfaces. When I look down under my paws, more closely, I see that the rock I’m sitting at isn’t your ordinary rock I would see in the forest. It isn’t sharp, neither is it smooth as one polished by water. More as if well worn out. There are lines, some straight, some curvy. At times crossing each other. 

And dots! 

I bring my face closer, snout almost touching the surface while inspecting all of the carvings. It is at that moment that I see a color difference in one of the circles. The rock itself is of a darker side, but then there is a sudden pop of a clear sandy color. How interesting. It looks so nice, even pretty. It seems that one patch has opened my eyes, because suddenly I can spot the same sandy color all over the boulder. I spin around myself trying to find if I missed any other interesting patterns just to hit the still tall standing greater rock. Coming face to face with it I stare at the same type of patterns again. But the rare splashes of colors are reversed with the neighbouring rock that I'm perched on. I do a few double takes to make sure the colors really match. And they do, which is fascinating. 

Before I get a chance to start exploring other rocks around me, my ear picks up on a barely audible sound. I swear it’s the same one I have heard before! It is quick to fade away but I do think I managed to pick up on its direction? Maybe. Because the direction I’m staring at is opposite to the forest.

I’m staring into a never ending fog, and it is unsettling. 

I take a step on the next rock in said direction but hesitate with the next one. Paw hanging in the air mid step. Why would I want to go towards it? Didn’t the chase from the forest teach me anything? I can’t be stupid enough to be lured in by yet another danger. This time however I don’t even know what could be waiting for me there. 

What if I just imagined the sound too? I bark into white emptiness and unlike last time there is no echo that bounces back. It has nothing to do so from. My voice gets eaten by a vast emptiness of an endless field of rocks. Without echo. Without an answer.

Doubt takes a proper root in me. As the coward that I clearly am, I take my step back and sit again against the tall boulder. It’s not worth the risk. Here at the border of two biomes I at least have a choice. But if I go into the unknown there is no way for me to find my way back. I will be completely lost at that point. 

As the decision was settled in, the same sound carries itself again. The same melodic notes! I could swear I hear it as if it is doubled? Sung by two instead of one. I can’t help but jump this time taking a few leaps towards it instinctively. As if pulled by it. The sound fades away once again but this time I'm sure it was there! My heart swells leaving a pain of longing in my chest that I can’t explain. I want to go towards that sound. I want to hear more of it. It isn’t hostile, nor is it a scream or a warning. It is more like…

A call. 

<Grace.>

And so I run. Before the fear or suspicion can creep back in. Before I can question myself for yet another time. Before I realize that the forest behind me has now become just white fog and the way back is gone.

Before I forget the direction of the sound... No, where the voice came from.

I run because it is beckoning me to come home.

___

I have no clue for how long or how far I have been running. Hours? Days? Maybe weeks? It doesn’t occur to me to keep count but it also doesn’t matter. I just keep going, hopping at this empty beach, how I like to call it now. Secretly I hope to find water. It would be nice. The hunger or thirst have yet to disrupt me even once. I have stopped more times than I can count whenever a particularly interesting boulder catches my eye. And boy, there are a lot of them!

There is no end to them, all having different colors, shapes and sizes. All of them are unique with their own patterns and at most of the times - pairs. That is the best explanation I can come up with when boulders have pieces intertwining colors. There is another pattern, too. The same colored rocks always come in clusters. Usually, there's one large boulder in the middle with smaller ones clustered around it. Sometimes the central one is so massive that even the smaller stones are enormous, piled high enough to form little caves beneath them.

Those are my favorites. Potential dens for me!

The so-called surrounding rocks usually have the most interesting markings on them so I easily end up with my tail up leaning down to have the closest possible look. Good thing there's nobody around to witness the spectacle I'm making of myself.

Whenever I make one of those stops I tend to lose direction. But now all I have to do is let out a loud bark into the fog and it doesn't take long for the sound to answer me back. Just like now.

<Grace.> A curt note echoes back.

I yip back gratefully knowing that there won’t be a response and back I am on my ‘mary’ way! Though I swear this one sounded louder. As if closer. I don’t dare to get my hopes up even if my heart flutters harder for a beat.

Somehow it hasn’t really occurred to me to wonder, what is at the end of that sound? I shake my head, surprisingly not causing myself to misstep in the process. Whatever it is, it knows me. And at this point it's a better option than nothing.

___

I was right about the sound getting louder because I swear that fog is getting thinner too. I have been seeing much further boulders for quite some time now. It's not much, but it's something. More importantly, I'm getting somewhere. Eventually I hope at least. And with that thought still distracting me I almost miss a really familiar sound. No, not the one calling me. But the one I for some reason can tell right away that I love. 

A quiet swish… A water lazily hitting on rocks and retreating back.

This is a beach after all!

I don't let myself divert. still heading where I’m called. But now my steps feel even lighter as I joyfully challenge myself to hop on even higher boulders, hoping to see just a little further. Gosh, I’m really impatient aren't I? If things progress in the same way as they have so far I’m sure I will eventually see water. But if I manage it just a little bit sooner… That would be awesome.

So I keep going. Every so often, the fog lets me hear another surf. And for reasons, I can't explain why, I'm certain that two of the best sounds I've heard here are coming from somewhere up ahead.

___

Once more, the passage of time fails to register with me. At some point, I realize I'm no longer heading into endless whiteness. It has become dark, and yet I see everything clearly.

I look up. 

Everything… 

I come to a stop as I understand that I’m gazed down by an endless amount of stars from above. So many, so bright against the black sky. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed, a breath caught in my throat. I feel small, like a spec of dust. Even less than that. The boulders under me stay strong, keeping me from falling even lower. While in fog I saw too little, now I feel like I see too much and can’t decide which is scarier. 

The stars, some brighter, some dimmer pulse beautifully, none hurting my eyes. Illuminating. After giving myself a moment, the panic in my body steps back. Somehow they remind me of the boulders of the beach. They are many, they are stoic, yet in a way… they support me. This odyssey of mine. As ludicrous as that doesn't sound. 

The calming echo of waves has become more defined and also ground me nicely. So with reassured bravery, I look up once again. More ready. More steady. With eyes now more adjusted to the vastness of the sky I pick up a pop of color, just like I did with boulders. 

A red line. 

It stretches across the sky directly above, continuing the way I was pretty sure heading.  And so I follow it. Because, somehow, it feels like this thing ties everything together. As I pick up the pace, on instinct I let out a bark and the answer echoes back almost instantly. A tear dreads to collect itself at the corner of my eye as I understand that I’m close. I’m almost there.

I push forward, more desperate than ever, silently begging my paws to carry me just a little faster. I bark again and the answer comes back at once. They know I'm close. Somehow, I'm sure of it. At some point my own barks start echoing. Water.

A shoreline emerges on my left side, dark as the sky above. If it weren’t for occasional lazy waves it would look as if the blackness of the sky has taken over the ground too. Edge of the cosmos. A fresh rush of excitement runs through me but I can’t let it take over me. I barely spare the view a glance. The shoreline can wait. Whoever is calling me can't.

Yet again I go, follow the red thread in the sky, it being the trusty guide. I keep my voice to myself, fearing that I might over use it with constant barking. In my mind however I keep repeating I’m close. Almost there. Like a mantra. Though there is no question in that anymore. The doubt is gone. It isn't long before the red thread starts bending downward towards the dark edge. As if reaching its end even though it is still far away and most likely forever unreachable for me. But when in my view it finally seems to dive beyond the horizon I stop. The view is breathtaking. For a second I can’t help but admire it. 

The voice reaches me, pulling me out of my thoughts. For the first time since my break down at the forest’s tree line it called for me first! Not as an answer for my plea. And gosh, it is close because… It’s not the echo that reaches me, but the direct notes. I take a few steps and almost forget to bark back. Real classy of me.

In front of me one of the boulders towers clearly taller than others, and its color is almost surreal. The rock is a mix of blue and green. Turquoise? Or cyan. Or teal. Can’t say as I have never been greatest with differentiating colors by names. Certainly around that spectrum. Whatever it is, it reminds me of ridiculously clear lake water and polished glass. But the thing is solid, and no light comes through it. As I approach it a way of nostalgia wash through me, pushing away all the unpleasant feelings that have been gnawing on me through all the time I have been here. Suddenly I’m exhausted, all the miles catching up on me.

<Grace>, comes the voice. I approach, walking around the pretty colored boulder just to find its cluster of smaller rocks creating a small cave. 

It isn’t however what called my name.

I hop on a neighboring boulder with a flat surface. Its comfortable warmth welcomes me, seeping into my tired paws as if begging me to relax. It is darker, of warm earth brown with small specks of the teal. Companion of the massive rock. Yet regardless of that, I don’t feel like being the odd one out with them. As suddenly, we are complete. I plop myself down on the rock and let out a quiet chirp. The rock doesn’t call back, but I swear I feel him… Him? Yeah him, vibrate back, as if humming or purring. The bigger pretty boulder does the same and I can’t help but cry. 

It is happy crying. Finally a place for me. My rock. My home.

All the things that I had to run, hop and dash through, suffer through, suddenly felt so worth it. Clearly I don’t need much for complete happiness. Being at the possible edge of the world, resonating with two boulders out of the billions… I am finally at peace. 

Nothing can take this away from me.

Not being able to do much with myself I roll on my back and to the other side, trying to get all over my rock, to mark it with my scent. I feel him chuckle at me and I don’t care. Let me have my moment. The warmth of him feels like a hug. And I know, if I’m to go into my den that massive boulder so generously provides, I would get another even tighter embrace. I wish I could do the same for them. 

At a loss of better options I give the rock under me an affectionate lick. An attempt at grooming him. Nuzzling myself to it in a futile attempt of being just a little clearer just how much they mean to me. The surface is clear of any dirt, mildly salty if anything. I feel rather silly when the hum comes. It almost sounds… pleased? A chuckle like yip escapes me. I guess he understood. 

A lower note purrs. The call from the bigger rocks is inviting so I don’t fight it and drag myself in the small cave. I make sure to give its wall an equally affectionate nuzzle before settling against its protective walls. Another soft vibration travels through the rock and into my chest. Slow. Steady. Content. It is perfect.

A yawn escapes me as sleep is clearly creeping on me. I let it as I have nothing to fear. I press myself into the warmth and close my eyes. I have my rock. I have my den. I have home. I can rest.

My body stretches, shifts, contorts, and I know instinctively what is happening as my limbs rearrange themselves, my snout shortens and my hair thins. My awareness of my environment shrinks, sounds becoming muted, smells fading; in inverse proportion, my internal awareness grows; synapses begin to fire again as I slide from sentient to sapient. It’s all mildly inconvenient, but I’m used to it. Some of the giddiness stays with me, and I let out a trembling sigh that might be part laughter. I usually don’t remember anything, but a lot of the time a feeling follows me through the process, and I get the sense I had a generally good time.

I don’t open my eyes, letting my head back on the floor of the Hail Mary. It’s hard, but not uncomfortable yet; the air wafts pleasantly against my exposed skin. There’s a luxurious relaxation to my limbs and muscles, like all the built-up tension has been erased in the regrowth and renewal implicit to the change. My mind feels floaty, detached from anything immediate except how comfortable I am, and a general sense of happiness. I haven’t had to think about anything or solve any complex problems in several hours. It’s beautiful, really. I don’t have to Know.

I’d be content to lie like this for hours, riding the gentle come-down like a parachute or a hammock, dozing with a tiny smile until humanity claws at me enough to get up.

It’s just, there’s something — a noise. A banging nearby. A frantic voice saying something I can’t quite understand.

I hum and give a lazy swat in the direction of the noise. Later, do this later.

“Grace! Grace!!”

I crack my eyes open to the glaringly bright light of the ship — ugh — and close them again. I’d rather nap.

“Grace wake up, wake up, wake up!”

The combination of octave and repetition lend urgency to the voice. The sounds become words; the background noise irises into a sharp hammering. I squint my eyes open again, turning my head toward the source. A familiar shape on the other side of a window, frantically slamming two fists against it. I am immediately reminded of a field trip to the zoo and spending most of the day scolding students for banging on the glass.

“Grace okay, question? Grace need help?!”

 “G’mornin.” It takes a stupid amount of concentration to make my lips shape the sounds, but I manage it with a groggy smile.

“What happen Grace?! Grace change! Grace disappear!!”

Uh oh. The good feelings swiftly dissipate as I start to put two and two together. First of all, I am lying on the floor with an alien, humanity’s only representative to other intelligent life, completely in the buff — and I don’t just mean my muscles. Second, I managed to forget to tell Rocky something extremely important about myself. My bad.

“Yeah,” I yawn. Maybe I can play it casual. If we treat this as normal from the start, there can’t be any of the weirdness there was on Earth. “This happens sometimes.”

“Why, why, why?! Rocky scare Grace dying. Not know how to fix.”

…Yeah, I missed any chance of doing this casually by a long shot. I sit up and look at him. Rocky is swaying on his feet in a worried way, antsy to help but powerless to do so. He must have felt like he was watching his crew succumb to a mystery killer all over again. “I’m sorry, Rocky. I meant to tell you beforehand, I just thought I had more time and then…kinda forgot.”

“Grace know this going to happen, question?”

I reach for a nearby sheet — there seems to be plenty of bedding scattered around on the floor from last night’s adventure — and tug it over myself. I’m sure Rocky’s sonar sees straight through it, but it makes me feel like I have some kind of shield. “Yes. I wasn’t sure when, though. It’s kind of hard to predict—”

“GRACE KNOW AND NOT TELL ROCKY?! GRACE LET ROCKY SPEND WHOLE TIME PANIC BECAUSE ALONE AGAIN AND SAY NOTHING, QUESTION?!?”

Yeah, a sheet is not a big enough shield against Rocky’s very reasonable upset.

“I should have!” I agree, all of my post-shift confusion gone. Good, I need my head on straight so I can make this right. “This shouldn’t have slipped past me. You’re right. I’m so sorry I scared you, bud.”

“Grace useless! Grace forget eat, forget sleep, forget deeply important biological information. Rocky can not trust.”

What? I reel back in shock. Is he right? Am I untrustworthy? That can’t be how this goes. We’re stuck in space together on the galaxy’s most important mission. We have to be able to trust each other. I crawl over to the barrier, huddled under my sheet. Emperor Comatose, humbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I promise I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”

Rocky has shifted his stance slightly; a little more on his far legs than near. He hasn’t changed the direction he is facing, but this is very much him turning his back to me. 

I rest a hand on the window. “But you have every right to be mad at me. That was an awful way for me to make you feel, and you didn’t deserve it. You’re my friend. I’d never want to hurt you, but I did it anyway. I’m sorry.” 

Rocky continues to ignore me, but he stays where he is. Finally, after a few minutes of silence that have me reliving two or three childhood heartbreaks, he clicks the claws on two hands. “Could have been avoided.” His voice is low and flat. I am still being reprimanded, but at least he’s willing to talk about it.

“I know.”

“Grace tell Rocky about sleep. About eat. Bad memory. Grace Rocky discussed needs and set boundaries and expectations. Grace not forget to tell about this. Is lie.”

Ouch. I shift to lean my back against the barrier, letting my eyes roam the sterile whiteness of the ship. Well, mostly-sterile. There is bedding all over the floor, a row of upset lab equipment, the scattered remains of a shredded burrito wrapper, and a line of paw prints crossing the room. “I was going to tell you,” I repeat, but now I’m not even convincing myself, much less Rocky. “I just needed to know that it wouldn’t affect anything. There’s a lot at stake and our planets depend on us being able to trust each other.”

“Amaze. Grace inspire trust. Immense.”

“Sarcasm,” I say. “But I get your point.” I give it a minute. He has every right to his feelings, and maybe some space to feel them will get it out so we can talk better. That’s one of those things I learned about adults from working with kids. It’s all the same, really. Besides, I need the time too: I’m really not helping my case right now. I’ve made a mess of everything, like I usually do.

Eventually, I hear Rocky shift behind me. “Why would truth affect, question?”

I duck my head, tucking the sheet around me a little tighter. I’m not ready to face him yet. Benefit of having a face is that I don’t have to. “It’s not as accepted on Earth. Not that it was a secret or anything, but…people kind of look down on guys like me. They think we’re lesser. Closer to animals. Some people think we shouldn’t be able to participate in society, shouldn’t have the same rights, shouldn’t be allowed to marry. Some people think we shouldn’t be teaching their children.” I know it’s unfair to project all of that onto Rocky when he doesn’t know better. I guess French amnesia drugs and 11.9 lightyears can’t get rid of your baggage. “People have left my life over it. I keep remembering it for the first time. How my dad left. How my mom struggled. Friends, partners.” My flipout at UNESCO had been partially blamed on it, and it ended up having a ripple effect for people like me in the sciences. Too unstable, too wild. Until Stratt came along. She didn’t have time for petty idiocies like prejudice. She just needed someone who could do the job, and that someone was me. 

“Humans stupid.”

“And that’s the thing,” I sigh with a bitterness that surprises me. “I’m not human.”

“Rocky would not know difference! Would not care! Human, not human — are still Earth thing. Are still friend.”

Okay. Still friends. I try not to let that hit me too hard. “I’m sorry I expected you to be the same. That wasn’t fair.” We’re not gonna talk about my cracking voice here, okay?

Rocky is quiet for a while. “Grace protect self,” he says eventually, his voice soft but less flat. Thoughtful. “Protect self to protect Earth. Even if Earth not protect Grace.”

“It’s bigger than me, that’s all. Once I realized you were the best person I’d ever meet, I kept forgetting that we didn’t already know everything about each other. And if I remembered, it usually wasn’t a good time — we do a lot of important stuff where we can’t have distractions, y’know? And then I thought I had time, and then…didn’t have time.”

“Cannot predict, question?”

I shrug. “I used to. Back on Earth, it was tied to the phases of the Moon.” I’d explained the phases to Rocky before, when I talked about the Earth. The concept of a “full moon” is purely visual, even if the cycle behind it physically affects things like the tides. Maybe at the time, I was trying to psych myself up to tell him everything. “I used to think the Moon caused the change, but maybe all it did was keep me regular. Cause it still happens now with no moon at all, and I never know when.” I used to be able to plan ahead for it — it was easy when it was on the calendar, same time every month. Now, I only know immediately beforehand because there’s a bit of vertigo leading up to the change. I get maybe ten minutes’ warning, tops. “I don’t know what I’ll do if it happens in the EVA suit.” That scares me more than I’m willing to put into words.

Rocky hums in thought. “Then Rocky fix.”

“It doesn’t work that way, pal.”

“Can’t stop Rocky from trying.”

“Nope. Sure can’t.” I let my head rest back against the barrier with a quiet, melodic clunk. There’s an answering clink from his side, and I try not to smile. “How can I make it up to you?”

“First Grace put on clothes. Then Grace clean up ship. Then Grace explain everything in detail. Even if think Rocky not need to know.” 

“I’m gonna do all those things regardless.”

“Mm. Then Grace sleep when Rocky say so. And. Do puppet shows for next three days.” 

Ugh, puppet shows. “Fair enough.” Oh well. It’s better than I deserve. “Hey, Rock? Could you tell me what happened? Up til now, I haven’t had someone around to watch me.”

“Grace no remember, question?”

“It’s kind of like losing consciousness. Turning human is like waking up after sleep.”

“Explains why Grace no recognize Rocky or tell Grace was okay.”

I shake my head helplessly. “I can’t talk when I’m like that. I don’t know who I am.”

“...Explains many thing actually.”

“I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?”

“Mm. Grace do toilet all over ship.” I cover my face with both hands and groan. “Grace do toilet directly at Rocky.” Yup, there it is. I can see the dried puddle, partially crystalized at the base of the barrier.

I can smell it, too. Fox pee is ripe. “Very stinky on this side, but I bet it would smell like fresh air to you,” I muse. All that ammonia? Then something occurs to me. I feel my face heat. “Hey, wait a minute — how d’you know what doing toilet looks like?!”

That dang scary space monster suddenly looks reeeeal squirrely. “Rocky have to go now! Forgot something need to fix!” The little rascal starts to skitter away down his tunnel.

“Come back here—” I chase after him, clutching the sheet to myself. Deal’s off, buddy!

“Very important! Talk to Grace later! Much much later!”