Work Text:
My heart seizes in my chest, my breath catches and an eerie stillness overtakes every part of me. The air starts to sting my eyes as they refuse to blink, beholding an old, stiff manila envelope labeled with my name, stuck in the bottom of the personal belongings storage bin.
Apparently I’d been in more of a hurry for Iklyukhina’s vodka a few weeks ago than I thought. How did I miss an entire envelope? It’s relatively thin and smaller than a standard size, but there’s definitely something packed inside.
My hand reaches out…then stops. I can’t grab it. Well, okay, I can. I’m not in the bulky EVA suit and no gravity is pulling on me right now. I’m more than capable of extending my arm and gripping this cryptic package. But my nerves have seized with indecision.
Hundreds of memories flash through my mind in an instant – many old, some new. I had so many envelopes, file folders, memos, and reports pass across my desk in the weeks leading up to Hail Mary’s launch that looked just like this. The delicate yet entirely rushed style of handwriting is achingly familiar. It’s the work of a woman who had no time for sentimentality. I’m sure I’d recognize the print of my name, Ryland Grace, in this penmanship even if the amnesia drugs had been permanent.
Stratt put this here. Or, she told someone to, more likely. Either way, she deemed it important enough for the contents of this envelope to take up precious space and add mass to Earth’s most desperate mission.
Back when I’d first awoken from the coma, it had seemed normal to stumble across a jumpsuit with my name on it. At the time, it fit my initial assumption that I was a planned member of the Hail Mary crew. I should’ve savored that feeling of belonging more. Since then, everything has only served as a reminder that I was…well, a hail mary for the Hail Mary. Not many personal reminders from Earth exist on this sterilized ship built for efficiency, but every now and again, I’m haunted by the name DuBois amongst the two others where I still half-expect to see my own.
In fact, other than my jumpsuit, this is the only other time I’ve found something designated specifically for me on this ship. It has brought my rummaging to a stop and entirely halted my deliberately slow and careful inventory process. My brain feels like it's short-circuiting as I stare, hand only half-extended towards a new, and probably final, reminder of home.
“Grace, question? You okay, question?” Rocky’s voice calls through the ship, emanating from the dormitory below. I must’ve zoned out more than I thought for Rocky to question the lack of movement. Or he can sense the way my heart pounds in my chest. There’s no way for me to know exactly what he’s picking up on, but he’s an amazingly observant guy regardless.
I, on the other hand, am not.
“Uh…” I answer my long-term roommate pathetically, anchored to the floor of the lab, staring at Pandora’s Manilla Envelope. My mouth even hangs open slightly. “Yeah.”
“Lie.” Fun little habit he’s picked up. It’s probably is my heart rate he’s detecting.
“I just,” I sigh and settle back in my skin. Only when my muscles relax do I realize how tense I’ve become. From an envelope. “I don’t know what this is.”
“Is what, question?”
“A package. From Earth. For me.”
“You not know, question?”
“No.” I answer with yet another deep sigh of acceptance and grab the envelope in a gesture of finality. It’s been slowly sinking in just how far from home I’ve wandered. I’m glad the bright light of Erid shines at the end of a dark tunnel, but there are so many things I already miss and so many more I’ll only realize as time goes on.
The human brain is amazing. It can adapt like crazy, turning the most bizarre input into nothing more than habitual stimulus. Even so, I’m already worried I’ll approach some kind of limit. Having Rocky to talk to and an entire alien host planet in my future gives me what I need to push through, but it’s hard some days. And it’s only getting harder.
I don’t want to have a stupid envelope hanging over my head. Logically, paper should never be an enemy (rock-paper-scissors is a stupid game). I rip open one edge, terrified of what’s inside.
It’s probably some apology from Stratt I’m still not really ready to hear. God, I hope she didn’t decide to show emotion for the first time through a wordy letter that allowed no response. It’s sounds about right for her special brand of psychological torture. I still get sick with something like regret when I think about our last meeting.
What I find instead is a small USB drive and a bundleful of papers. Colorful papers. Construction paper.
A wave of nostalgia washes over me. I feel a different desk in front of me, surrounded by ticonderoga pencils, colorful erasers and fun science gadgets I loved to fiddle with while I taught. The USB tumbles out and floats away, forgotten for the time being as my simple human brain reaches for the bright colorful things inside first.
I pull out a handful of hand written letters and drawings, some beautifully cared for and others barely legible. Immediately, more faces and voices flood my memory as I recognize the various names scrawled across the corners of the notes and pictures.
“My students.” My voice barely spills out of my mouth. “It’s a gift from my students.” I elaborate, knowing by now it’s dangerous to assume Eridians can pick up on alien subcontext.
Rocky hums with something I recognize as intrigue. There’s the sound of scrambling and then he’s hovering over my shoulder, scanning across the sad scene. He repeats himself. “Is what, question?”
“Th-they sent me words and thoughts on paper. As a surprise, I guess.” I manage to get the full sentence out. Rocky’s going to get the impression that humans cry over everything if I keep going at this rate, getting choked up on little things I’m pulling out of the storage space. “And also uh…art they made themselves. Have we talked about art?”
“Light sense thing, question?”
“Yeah, but I bet Eridians have it too, like pretty things that people create. Except…these are from kids so it’s hit or miss. But still cute.” I respond, deciding that’s a good enough answer for now. Rocky warbles. I think that’s what he envies about humans the most; our sight. I, however, marvel at their impressive strength, lifespan, durability, intellect…god, Eridians are so cool.
“What words say, question?” Rocky
My eyes greedily jump across the one on top, written on pastel-red paper. The handwriting isn’t great, but it’s mostly readable and probably the results of a seventh grade boy putting in more effort than usual. I recognize the name instantly and chuckle to myself. Of course I remember Gabriel, the kid had absolutely no volume control. Anyone who’d ever taught him for more than a week would remember Gabriel forever.
The original greeting of ‘Hi Mr. Grace,’ had been crossed out and replaced with a much more deliberately written ‘Hi Dr. Grace.’ I smile at the noticeable mistake and attention to detail. I clear my throat and jump into the first line, deliberately pronouncing every precious spelling error and run-on sentence.
Hi Mr. Grace
Hi Dr. Grace
Thank u for doing science stuff. I dont really get what ur doing but mrs Hill say ur finding ways to help earth. when ur done you should come back, tho the subs don’t do anything and we mis all ur—
And….nope. I can’t do it.
Halfway through, I shut up and shove the letters back in the envelope. The seal is still kind of sticky so I squish the two sides back together and stick the whole thing back in the storage bin. It’s not subtle, but it’s not meant to be. Right now, I’m feeling pretty fragile. If I even try to read the rest of those letters, I know I’m going to end up in tears. It’ll be a good, cathartic exercise for a day other than today.
Rocky chitters at me. “Was short. Confusing. When do Earth children learn language?”
“Their whole life.” I answer Rocky passively as I stare at the envelope like it cut me. How the heck did it get here? Did Stratt contact my school for this? It makes no sense. Not only did she not have time for trivial tasks, but I doubt she cared that much about anyone during the process of Project Hail Mary. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Only now am I able to kind of see from her perspective. I’m still PO’d about what she did to me, but I am, admittedly, starting to understand it.
“How many years are you students, question?”
“Eleven to Thirteen-ish, mostly.”
“Oh. Very young. I not know you teach infants.”
I grimace. “Eh, they're not that young. Almost adolescent.” Rocky might have a near-perfect memory, but it’s still an adjustment to imagine a species that lives less than an eighth of his own lifespan.
“Understand. Maybe.” Rocky rumbles. “Why language so bad after that many Earth years, question?”
“Now you sound like a teacher.” I find it in me to chuckle a bit. “We used to ask ourselves the same question every year.”
“Learning system bad. Incomplete.”
In four words, Rocky has perfectly summarized the leading arguments of education and what used to be a big part of my life. “You have no idea.”
“Other Earth device, question? Technology.” Rocky bounces, then presses three of his claws against the xenonite like a child at an aquarium. He’s presumably glaring at the forgotten USB drive hovering by his wall. We’d only just officially added technology to our shared vocabulary.
“Technology” ended up replacing “Thinking Box” for a time until I explained it’s more of a broad term used for any technological instruments or advances. Rocky seemed to enjoy coming up with new musical sounds for the words in his own language. He’s never been interested in naming grand scientific breakthroughs – like Taumoeba or The Blip-A – but he’s certainly enjoying re-naming all of my human things in Eridian. Good to know he’s made himself comfortable.
“It’s a way to transfer information.” I look around, grab the nearest think box and open up the files on the flashdrive. There’s two video files, one labeled “Watch first” and another labeled “For Dr. Grace.”
Welp, that could mean anything. Part of me wonders if I should wait to watch this when Rocky is asleep and blissfully unaware of my insane circumstances. I still haven’t admitted my act of cowardice to him that could’ve doomed the entire Earth. I’m far from the selfless hero Rocky thinks I am and it’s bothering me that he has the wrong impression but…I have no idea how to dive into that topic of conversation.
Who knows? Maybe this cryptic file will break the ice for me. No way to know without playing it, I suppose. I take a deep breath, steady my hand and press the first video.
The first thing I notice is the awful quality. Rocky recoils from his xenonite as crappy, staticky and ridiculously loud cheers pour through the computer’s speakers. I quickly pause the volume, bringing it to a more manageable level. “Sorry,” I apologize to Rocky. “Is your hearing okay?”
“What is sound, question?”
I look at the screen, squinting as I try to understand why I’m looking at a mass amount of pre-teens crammed onto bleachers, all screaming and yelling. Slowly, a select few lift their arms and raise white poster boards, covering parts of the crowd and spelling a message out of block letters.
THANK YOU
The video cuts suddenly to three students in a much smaller interview. I recognize these guys quickly: Abby, Mckenna, and Regina. The three girls smile at the camera. “Thank you for joining the efforts to save Earth!”
Another cut. Another cluster of kids from my seventh grade Earth science class beam at the camera. Larry and Trang hold up sketches of what look to be me wearing goggles and holding a microscope. Tyriq holds up a little American flag and waves it. “You’re the best science teacher ever, Mr. Grace!”
Another group of students, another set of smiles. Another thank you. Over and over, before I can fully react or process them all, I’m hit by emotional suckerpunches. The confused, but ever-enthusiastic faces of my students from the past few years share their words of gratitude with a childlike optimism I’ve dearly missed. If that wasn’t bad enough, a few interviews with my coworkers are sprinkled in, too.
Gary, the guy who’s classroom shared a wall with mine, glares the camera. “Grace, you son of a bitch, I had to take over your first period when you left.” A smile creeps across his face. “But I guess being named ‘world’s leading expert on astrophage’ is a pretty cool reason. You keep cranking out those science facts, space nerd. We’ll keep things handled over here.”
It cuts back to the gymnasium filled with students. The white posters they’re holding are shuffled and rearranged in a poorly practiced fashion, but hey, it’s the effort that counts. THANK YOU is replaced with DR. GRACE.
The video cuts again, more students tell me how important this mission is. Others share stories, some ask questions, all of them say thank you. The three girls, Abby, McKenna and Regina talk about a new club they’re trying to start. “We were originally going to call it the ‘Anti-Astrophage club–” Abby starts.
“But,” McKenna cuts in, “As you always say, nothing in science is inhectorably bad, it’s all just reactions that lead to certain consequences.”
“Inherently,” a voice behind the camera corrects. “Not Inhectorably.” McKenna’s face scrunches at the recognition of her error.
Regina chuckles. “That’s embarrassing.” I laugh along with it, feeling the moisture building in my eyes.
“Either way,” Abby continues, “Now it’s just called the Astrophage Club. We meet once a week to discuss all the new advances! There’s a bunch. They say it’s the fastest developing field of science, like, ever.”
“Your name pops up a lot, Mr. Grace!” McKenna beams.
“You’re the coolest teacher in the world!” The three of them chime together, then wave goodbye.
The video cuts again. My coworker, Jayce, smiles at me through the camera at me. “Hey, the basketball team made it to States! You’ll never believe it, but little Louis got the buzzer beater. The entire crowd went crazy. Hope you’re doing well!”
Then, Little Louis himself is on screen. “Mr. Grace!! I scored at the basketball game!!! I thought about what you said about, like, the angle, and stuff and I don’t know if I did it totally right, but I scored a three-pointer!! We won the game!!”
My heart feels like it’s about to detonate. “Atta boy, Louis,” I grin.
Then, the entire science department is there. “Aye Grace, did you know you have a Wikipedia page, now? Way to rise to the occasion and represent teachers everywhere! I’d like to see someone call us overpaid babysitters now.” The department head, Alexis, laughs. “Go save the world, dude!”
The principal, Mrs. Hail, appears on screen. She’s surrounded by other high-ranking people in the district. Even the superintendent is there. “Dr. Grace, your work on Project Hail Mary is vital to the survival of the human race. Needless to say, you’ve made all of us here at Grover Cleveland incredibly proud. We can only imagine the sacrifices you’re making to help this mission. From all of us back home, thank you!”
The loud, crowded gymnasium is back. The white squares that spell my name vanish and slowly, a new message is revealed, the third and final part of the phrase they’ve been slowly spelling.
SAVE EARTH!
The video goes black. I come face-to-face with my teary eyed reflection. It feels like a bomb imploded in my chest and took everything with it. I’m overcome with such a strong sense of homesickness, I feel like I’m going to puke. My ears are ringing and I’m disconnected from my body. I’d gotten so used to this new normal, coming face to face with my old one was…unexpected.
“Oh.” I say pathetically. This is exactly what I’d been trying to avoid when I hid the cards away. I’m one kind word away from a full-blown emotional crisis. “Okay."
“Other humans, question? Different voices! Very interesting! More more!” Rocky ping-pongs around his space, bouncing from handhold to hand hold. He continues chittering with excitement, probably like I will the first time I get to see what other Eridian are like. But so many sounds are pouring from Rocky’s little carapace, I can’t understand about half of what he’s saying. Before I can do anything, the USB answers Rocky’s request and plays the next file automatically.
The black screen is replaced by Stratt’s face. I sit there, still frozen in shock. I can only wonder what she has to say to me, now. It’s probably one final order like, don’t forget to send as much information back as possible, despite how insignificant it may seem. I sigh automatically when I see her, preparing for whatever maelstrom she’s about to let loose from within me. “What do you want, Stratt.”
Stratt sits in what appears to be her trailer, stoic and calm as always. She’s quiet for a moment , then clears her throat and gives a heavy sigh. “Dr. Grace,” she begins and that alone is almost enough to make me want to turn this darn thing off. But I’ve come this far. Her words can’t hurt me.
“I’m unsure when you’ll find this package, but it’s important for you to have. Your school sent the video and cards years ago, but I intercepted and kept it from you.”
I laugh sharply. “Of course you did.”
Stratt glares at the camera. “Even you can’t deny you’re an emotional man, Dr. Grace. It’s what makes you a good teacher in the first place; you’re empathetic and personable. I was afraid that a memento might be enough for you to change your mind about supporting the Hail Mary mission. You were vital to the discovery and training processes. We needed you close to the issue to take advantage of your expertise.”
She pauses. It’s dead silent. I’m well aware of Rocky still hovering over my shoulder, listening intently to every word.
“You’ve probably learned by now from Yao and Ilyukhina that you were also needed as our tertiary science expert. That is to say, in many ways your presence was necessary for the viability of this mission and the survival of the human race. I couldn’t have you running back home to San Francisco because ‘your kids needed you’.” She says it like it’s a bad thing.
There’s another pause and another sigh from Stratt. “That being said, I do believe your students are lucky to have had you as their teacher for whatever time they did.” She almost smiles. “The video they sent is sentimental. I hope it survives long enough for you to see it.”
Turmoil passes over Stratt’s face. I’m hyperaware of how unusual this look is for her. I see cracks appearing in the facade she has permanently glued to her face. She looks exhausted, haunted and incredibly lonely in her massive trailer by herself. “I said some unkind words to you and I understand you must hate me. I don’t blame you.”
I’m back in that cell, turned away from her like a child. With a haunting sense of shame, I realize my actions too closely resemble those of my less mature students. When people end up backed against a stone wall, of course they’re going to fight back…even if that stone wall is standing between humanity and extinction.
The worst part? I’m not sure I’d even make a different choice if I were sent back right now.
Okay, well, I totally would, if I knew all that awaited me in Tau Centi, both the good and the bad. After spending so many months with Rocky, it’s hard to imagine my life without him now. But, despite the worst already being over (hopefully), my guts are still knotted up with fear. I feel like I’m trapped in a tiny room, taking my last glimpses of Earth before being put to sleep for four years just to wake up in a different galaxy.
Even after everything, I’m still terrified. I’m still a coward. I wish I could say I’d do it differently, but…I can’t be sure. I only ended up here because of a series of accidents and I guess it’s giving me pretty bad imposter syndrome.
I’m trembling so badly with nerves that even my breath is shaking. Stratt looks like she’s about to confess something on screen. I can’t possibly predict whatever’s about to come out of her mouth, but I have the premonition that I don’t want to know.
“Stop…” I warn the video that’s not listening.
“I still think you’re foolish. And weak. And pathetic, most of the time.” Stratt shrugs, entirely neutral, like she’s just stating facts.
“Cold hearted bitch.” I mutter under my breath before inhaling sharply, as if I just earned myself detention. That one genuinely slipped out.
“But you are also Earth’s best bet.” She reaches off camera and grabs what looks to be a whiskey. It’s served neat, of course. The glass chimes as a simple thumb ring she frequently wore clinks against it. “So, here’s a better send off.”
The corners of her crinkle like she’s holding something back. Stratt lifts her glass and stares into the camera with a cold, sad gaze. “May you find your answers beyond the stars, Ryland Grace. Godspeed.”
The screen turns black.
For a good ten seconds, I just stare. Rocky chirps behind me, a wordless notion of concern. I blink a few times, rub my face harshly and push myself up. “I’m going to…” I gesture vaguely to the dormitory and float towards it in a daze.
I just leave. Rocky lets me. He doesn’t say anything I can hear, but I see his carapace hunker slightly in the way it does when he expresses displeasure.
I lay strapped to my bunk for I’m not sure how long, maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. The whole time, I’m quiet, just staring at the mechanical arms from the ceiling, tracing the shapes and remembering how much the people of Earth gave just for me to be here. From something as simple as a night’s sleep to giving their entire life to the cause, I know a lot of sacrifices were made.
I still can’t say I’m one of them. Not willingly. It bothers me. A lot of things bother me.
I’m homesick. Of all things, I want the stress ball out of my school desk. It seems ridiculous that I used to need it for parent teacher conferences or observations. I’d give anything to go back to those minor levels of stress. Now my worries are more existential, like starvation and surviving the unforgiving, endless expanse of space.
And on top of all that, I think I just watched Stratt cry as she raised a glass to my condemnation. I think I’m allowed to feel a little conflicted.
It stirs up emotions I can’t even begin to name. I want to scream at her, shake her, or maybe just hug her so tightly it hurts both of us.
All of those familiar faces have made me miss Earth things all over again. I want to fall to my knees in green grass and run my fingers through dirt. I want to stand in the rain, cloud-watch, take a shower, pet a cat, eat a shawarma, ride a bike and a million other things. The list could go on and on. Knowing I’ll never do any of that again leaves me feeling empty and cold.
I know the astrophage apocalypse will be awful for all humans to experience, even if my taumobea make it in time. But at least there’s familiarity and predictability to their suffering. At least they’ll still see the sun rise and set. At least they’ll have their loved ones to hold on to as darkness descends.
Stratt called me Ryland. I’m still unnerved by that.
Rocky and I have been holding the fate of two entire worlds in the palm of our hands/claws and here I am brooding about the use of my first name. It’s ridiculous. It’s painful.
I sigh. There’s too much to think about. I close my eyes to turn off my mind for a moment, breathing deliberately. I try to let a lot of that stuff go. There’s no taking back the decision I made. Besides, even the best shawarma couldn’t hold a flame to the happiness I heard in Rocky’s voice when I found him again. I’d gladly give up everything on Earth for that.
Speaking of…it’s eerily quiet in the rest of the ship. I certainly don’t have super hearing, but I usually at least hear some sort of tinkering unless he’s asleep. And if I’m not watching, I know he’s not sleeping.
I release my straps and sit up in my bunk, holding the edges to keep myself in place. “I know you’re there, Rocky.”
It’s quiet for a moment, then he skitters into the dormitory through his tunnels. “How, question?”
I weakly shrug my shoulders. “Eh, sixth sense.”
“Humans have other sense, question??” Clearly, he’s offended to just now learn this information.
That alone is enough to make me smile. “No, not really. Human joke.” I don’t feel like explaining the idea of ghosts or ESP right now. Rocky hums in understanding. He scuttles around until he’s anchored in his resting spot, just about as close to me as he can get, although still separated by xenonite.
“You are sad.” It’s not a question.
“Yeah.” I admit.
“You miss Earth people, question?”
“Yeah.” I see Stratt’s face in my mind and change my answer. “No.” I think of all my students. “Yes. Ugh.” I cover my eyes with one hand. “It’s hard to explain.” He lets me mourn for a few more minutes.
“♫♪ Grace.”
Oh, that’s a new word. I lift my head, wiping my eyes with the heel of my palm as I do so. “Don’t understand the word before Grace.” Knowing his temper, he’s probably swearing at me again. Way to kick a man when he’s down, Rocky.
“More name.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “What?”
“You say name is Grace. Other human use ♫♪ Grace. Young humans use ♪♪ Grace. You lie about name.”
Woah, that’s a bold accusation. “I didn’t lie. You can’t assume that.”
“Why human use different name, question?”
“It’s how names work on Earth. My students call me Mister or Doctor, technically because of my education level, as a sign of respect.” I sigh. “The other human called me Ryland. That’s my individual name. You know my family name, Grace, because it’s easier to translate into Eridian.”
Rocky sifts through his things for a moment and finds the xenonite figure of the EVA suit somewhere. He holds it up for me to see again. “Easy translation make sense when first meet. Then become Friend Grace. Now become Friend ♫♪♪♪ Grace.”
I frown. That was a lot of sounds for one name. I’m about to ask a question, but Rocky continues. “♪♪ is title of respect. ♫♪ is you name.”
“You made a word for Ryland?” I can’t help but smile. Much like I first gave him an arbitrary Earth name when I first met him, now Rocky has done the same for me. I wonder what he named me after in Eridian. It probably translates to squishy klutz or something like that. “But you don’t have to call me Dr. Ryland Grace.” I even make a face as I say it aloud. “That’s way too nice.”
Rocky pushes himself up a bit higher. “Dr. Ryland Grace.” He says, despite me just telling him not too. He shifts his carapace back and forth and I can only imagine the posture of some rich elitist swishing a glass of wine in their hand. “Dr. Ryland Grace. Nice nice nice.”
“Hey!” I scoff in disbelief. “Don’t mock me! I’m having a bad day.”
“Why bad, question? You get reminder from Earth. Much good words. Good day.”
“No,” I clarify. “Too many thoughts. Bad day.” I sigh, trying to parse out my emotions. But like I said, this is some existential stuff. I think of myself as a pretty optimistic person, but that can only get me so far. I’m doing a lot of firsts for mankind, but I never thought about how lonely of a journey it might be.
“Lie. Support from Earth, human friends, and young humans. Good day.
“I’m not lying.” God, I’m going to start calling him the Eridian Lie Detector if he keeps at it. “You don’t know what happened, Stratt—” I lose my words. I don’t feel like getting into this now. Maybe tomorrow after I’ve had time to sleep and more time to think of the best way to confess it all. “She…she did something without my permission. We weren’t really friends. But we were close.”
“Lie.”
I glare at him. Even without eyesight, he seems to pick up on the tension. Maybe Eridians have a sixth sense, too.
“Human honor you with Earth food celebration. Seem like friend.”
“Well, yeah, I guess. Like I said, it’s a long story.”
Rocky grabs a project to work on with two hands, returns to his resting space and hunkers down. “Have much time. ”
A small smile graces my face. “At the risk of sounding like a weak, pathetic, overly emotional human,” I have to admit what I am, I suppose. “You’re a really good friend, Rocky.”
“Finally, you speak truth.”
God, this guy. “Question, how similar are you to other Eridians?”
His fidgeting increases slightly with excitement. I can imagine that when you’re headed towards home, with two alien life forms in tow that can help save the planet, it’s a little more fun to reminisce. I think this is what I need, though. It’s good to look back every now and again to see where I started, but right now, I should be more interested in where I’m going.
“Actually, don’t answer that yet.” I stop Rocky from responding. “I want to see if I can figure it out on my own first.”
Rocky seems intrigued. “How, question? You never meet other Eridians.”
“Not yet,” I muse. “And I’ve got a lot of Eiridian history to catch up on. You feel like giving me a lesson, Mr. Friend Rocky?”
“Nice nice nice!” Rocky claps another hands together. I laugh. “You want to hear all of Erid history, question?” Rocky rumbles. “I teach, but it is long story. Long, long, long.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got nowhere to be.” I re-strap myself and get comfortable. Screw whatever inventory project I was working on. I’ll finish it later. Right now I think I’m in for the history lesson of a lifetime. “And in the words of a short-tempered alien I once knew: have much time.”
Rocky does something similar to a sarcastic laugh. I grin.
Four years is a long journey and everyday takes me further from home. But honestly, I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else. As bizarre as it is, this is my happiest ending.
And I suppose, in some bitter, twisted sense, I’m only here because of one person. Thanks, Stratt.