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I think the worse part about being alone isn’t the loneliness—it’s the longing. The yearning to be with people, hindered by the inability to connect. I always believed that it never bothered me.
Until I met Eva Stratt.
Although most of my time with Stratt was a blur, I remember one moment very clearly: the evening that I spoke to her on the deck of a navy ship in the middle of the sea. We were the only ones not attending the party. The sun was setting, the wind was gentle, and our voices hushed. I apologized for ruining the moment; she said I never bother her. I argued that I talk too much.
It must be hard asking people to…you know.
Actually, it isn’t.
She had been sincere when she said that. It reminded me of when I spoke to Yao.
You just need to find someone to be brave for.
Looking back now, I suppose I was always a coward. I couldn’t grasp the extent of Stratt and Yao’s sacrifice—of how much they were willing to give up to save humanity.
Stratt had spoken briefly about how believing in God beat the alternative. When I saw the gentle glow of the fading sun reflected in her eyes, I wanted to believe, too. There was a lot that I wanted in that moment, gazing at her silently. She had smiled at me. It was so rare to see that from her.
I wanted to say something. I could feel the words crawling up my throat, aching to be released like a caged bird yearns to be free. But I couldn’t do it. I smiled at her and looked away.
I descended the stairs and took a seat in the lounge. I stared at the table, feeling hollow. She took her place at the front of the room while I wasn’t looking. Her voice was remarkable and tender. The entire room stopped speaking to give her their attention. Hearing Stratt sing—I’ve never heard something so beautiful in my entire life. For a single moment, my loneliness was forgotten.
I was never attracted to her romantically. But I was drawn to her—like a moth to the flame.
I knew that I wanted to get to know her more. At the time, it seemed impossible: she was a spokesperson for humanity, and I was just a molecular biologist she hijacked from a junior high school classroom. I was a tool. A means to an end. Sure, we caught some time alone together, but it rarely went farther than conversing about the project.
Now, suspended in space, the only human being within fifteen lightyears of earth—I wish it had. I wish all the things I never said or held back had spilled from my mouth that evening.
I catch myself thinking about her all the time. She was pretty, I’m certain of that. But I never wanted her sexually or anything (I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone like that). When I close my eyes and seek out the old emotions she used to stir within me, I feel warmth.
I was fond of her, I realize. I thought she was lovely, in the way one might find the earth itself to be lovely. Like stopping on a ridge overlooking a stunning view and simply taking in the moment. Or wandering onto the deck of a ship and staring out at the sun as it sets over the ocean’s horizon.
“Grace, okay? Question.”
Rocky startles me out of my thoughts. I didn’t even realize I was daydreaming. I blink and look around. Right, the lab. I straighten on the stool and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Yeah, I’m all right, pal.”
Once I’m sure my face is clean, I turn to him. Rocky is hovering nearby in his xenonite tunnel system, watching me carefully. He’s shuffling his appendages side-to-side—something I’ve come to recognize as restlessness in Eridians.
“Grace has been quiet for long time,” Rocky says.
I frown and bite my lip. I haven’t really felt like myself lately.
“I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired.”
Rocky’s carapace tilts a bit. “When was Grace last sleep? Question.”
I open my mouth, close it again. The truth is: I don’t really know.
My silence is all that Rocky needs to confirm his suspicions. He points one of his front legs at me.
“Grace go sleep now. Statement,” he says firmly.
I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. “I’m okay, really—”
I’m cut off by a very quiet, drawn-out yawn. Dangit.
“Grace go sleep,” Rocky repeats. Then, more softly, “Rocky will watch.”
--
Please, don’t make this any harder.
I’m running for my life. My heart pounds in my chest like a jackhammer as I try to stay ahead of my pursuers. Tears well in my eyes; they’re getting closer. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Something tackles me from the rear, and I hit the ground hard. My brain doesn’t even register the pain—it’s stuck in full panic mode.
The guards are on either side of my body, holding me down. Their hands are clamped firmly over my arms, pressing me into the soft, dense grass. It’s a clear, sunny day. The sky is a bright and blinding blue.
This may seem like me betraying you, but it’s actually me believing in you.
I scream and I beg, but my cries continue to fall on deaf ears. The fear churning in my stomach is visceral. I sob as the needle punctures my skin. People I once trusted look on silently.
You’re going to do great.
--
I lurch upright in my cot with a yelp.
“Please! Don’t—I can’t do it!” I shout.
I look around the room. My breathing is ragged. My face is wet with tears.
It takes me a moment to realize where I am. However, in this instance, recognizing my surroundings immediately makes me feel worse. My thoughts begin to spiral.
I need comfort but I don’t know where to seek it. I cannot shake the immense guilt that suffuses my body every time this happens. I have Rocky—I shouldn’t feel so lonely. I should be grateful.
But I’ll never see earth again. I’ll never encounter my own kind again. I’m stuck on a one-way, years long journey to a foreign planet with an inhabitable climate, home to a species that may or may not accept me. I’m consuming coma slurry, taumoeba, and stale water just to survive, and still losing weight because my body is so deficient in vitamins that it’s already starting to affect my health.
Part of me wishes that I hadn’t survived the initial trip, but that’s so selfish that I instantly recoil from the thought. I bring my knees up to my chest and hide my face between them. I really am a coward.
“Grace?”
I flinch and look up. Rocky is in his xenonite ball next to my cot. I completely forgot that he had been watching me sleep. The vents on his carapace move rhythmically. A low note thrums through his body and fills the room.
“Grace not okay. Statement.”
He’s right. Deep down, I know that I'm not okay, but it takes my only friend in the entire universe pointing it out to finally make me break down. My shoulders heave as I start to sob. I curl up in a ball and cover my head with my arms.
Rocky waits patiently until I calm down, humming soft notes into the air until my breathing evens out.
“Grace was shouting in sleep,” Rocky says slowly.
I sniffle. “I’m sorry, Rock.”
“Grace say he can’t do something. What can Grace not do? Question. I see Grace do lots of things.”
God, he doesn’t know. I turn my attention to a loose thread in the blanket. I begin to pick at it with my fingers.
“Did I ever tell you how I got here?” I ask.
“No. Grace did not remember.”
I unfurl my legs and scoot back to lean against the wall. Rocky crawls closer to me. A while ago, I stopped using my actual bed in the dormitory and moved my bedding to the floor instead. Sleeping on the ground may be less comfortable, but I feel safer when I can physically sense Rocky’s warmth next to me.
I shake my head. “When you showed me your ship, I remembered. I was never chosen,” I admit. “We had a primary crew and a backup crew, and I wasn’t part of either one.
“So, how did Grace end up on ship? Question.” He tapped his leg on the ground.
“The scientists on both crews died in an accident. They asked me to go in their place.”
My body shudders from the memory: the bright flames that filled the steel-colored sky, then the shockwave that knocked Stratt and I down in an instant.
Rocky leans forward. “And Grace said yes?”
“I told them that I couldn’t do it. So, they forced me to go.”
Rocky’s entire body goes still. “Grace did not volunteer?”
“No. I didn’t.” I look away from him in shame. “They medicated me, forced me to sleep,” I explain, voice hollow. “I was so scared, Rock. So, so scared.”
He says nothing. Briefly, I wonder if he regrets saying I was the bravest human he had ever known.
Nervously, I continue. “I’m not as brave as you think, Rock. I’m sorry.”
“Why Grace sorry? Grace did nothing wrong!” Rocky exclaims.
“I did,” I say. My hands curl into fists. “I was too worried about myself to save my people—I’m a coward.”
Rocky pounds his leg against the xenonite with enough force to make me jump. I look up at him in alarm, worried that he’ll accidentally crack the casing in his ball.
“Grace is not a coward! Humans are bad bad bad for forcing Grace to sleep. Eridians would never force sleep.”
“They did the right thing, Rocky.”
Rocky lurches forward so quickly that his ball bumps into my leg.
“Force sleep right thing? Force Grace to do something dangerous is right thing? No. No, no, no. Humans are wrong. Grace is brave. Grace do right thing."
Despite the tears streaming down my cheeks, I somehow manage to smile.
“But why Grace still leaky and sad?” Rocky asks.
“I guess it bothers me that I never really got to say goodbye to…to the people I cared about.”
My thoughts immediately turn to Stratt. I wish I’d told her...
What?
What do I wish I’d said differently?
We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here.
I know that will never happen, and for some reason that pains me more than missing home ever will. That’s when I realize: it’s the regret that's eating at me.
It’s not knowing what I could have done differently.
“Rocky did not get to say goodbye to Adrian,” Rocky says quietly.
I notice that he’s methodically rubbing his hand over the blue-green mark on his front leg.
“Why not?” I ask.
Rocky pauses, shuffles his body back-and-forth, then looks up to me. “Had to leave while Adrian sleeping. No time to say goodbye.”
Oh. Eridians are paralyzed when they sleep. So, if Adrian was sleeping when Rocky left Erid…
“When they woke up, you were already gone,” I say.
He’s quiet for a moment. “Grace not alone in having regret.”
Rocky and I are more alike than I ever imagined. Both of us never got to say goodbye; both of us ended up alone on our respective journeys to save our planets.
“I’m sorry, Rocky.”
He presses closer to my side. I rest my right arm over the top of the ball and lean my face against the warm xenonite surface. Rocky pushes his body upright to meet my cheek. This is our version of an embrace.
“Is okay. Grace and Rocky fated to meet,” he hums.
A wet chuckle bursts from my lips, surprising me. I snuggle closer to him.
“Yeah, I think you’re right, bud.” I rub my cheek against the ball. “I love you, Rocky.”
“Rocky loves Grace back.”
More tears run down my nose, but this time they come not from sadness, but from the overwhelming relief of having finally found a relationship that truly matters.