Chapter Text
I couldn’t fix this. That was my first thought when I could no longer hear Grace.
I couldn’t fix it. I tried anyway. The restraint held all five limbs tight against my carapace. Tight enough that every movement became useless. Whoever designed this and trapped me in it understood my body.
That thought made the fear threaten to overtake my body.
I pushed one limb outward. Nothing I twisted another toward the floor. Nothing. I drew in air and tried to make a chord loud enough to reach someone. Anyone. The sound died against the dampening wrap. I tried again.
“Adrian!” It was barely a sound.
I forced more air through. Pain shivered through my carapace where the restraint pressed. “Adrian! Wake!”
There was no answer. Of course, there was no answer. Adrian was still asleep and would not wake. It was supposed to be safe because I was awake. I was supposed to protect.
Grace had trusted that. Grace had been cold and sleepy and wrapped in soft things. Grace had held Mini Rocky against his chest and said he did not need it while immediately needing it. Grace had curled into Adrian’s arm. Grace had made small tired sounds. Grace had been in the nest. He was safe and comfortable.
Then, I had left. I should have known the pressure fluctuation was false. The temperature drop did not match the system report. I knew better.
No, no, no. I needed to think of useful things. Grace would need me useful.
I pressed all five limbs outward again. The restraint bit into my joints. I mapped everything I could feel. The primary restraint was woven xenonite fiber. There were internal compression locks and a damping layer across my carapace. A secondary loop was around my limbs. There was no accessible clasp or exposed fastener.
The only conclusion I could draw was that the restraint required an external release. No, no, no. That was a bad conclusion. I reject that conclusion.
I tried to scrape my limb against the floor. The movement was too small. The restraint allowed maybe half an inch of useless motion. That could become friction, friction heat. Heat could weaken binding. Then, I could escape. Maybe if the material was not designed to tolerate engine room temperatures.
I scraped harder. Nothing. Again.
Again.
Nothing.
Again.
Pain.
Again.
Grace had screamed.
I stopped.
The house was too quiet. The dampeners muffled everything. But there was no Grace. No Grace was wrong.
On the ship, when Crescendo stopped moving, the sound did not vanish all at once. Small movements became smaller. Breathing became weak vibrations. Words became fragments. Then nothing. I had listened to nothing for far too long.
No, no. I was not on the ship anymore. I was home. With Adrian and Grace. No, no Grace. Grace was taken. He was alive when they took him. Grace was fighting and screaming. I heard his heartbeat.
I heard Jade. Jade. My limbs pushed against the restraints again. Hard enough that something in my left forelimb screamed in pain. Jade knew everything about the inner workings of the dome. She turned that knowledge into betrayal.
I had heard it. The way Grace struggled and screamed and held onto Adrian. I heard the way he yelled at Adrian to wake.
On the ship, Piccolo asked for explanations for the deaths. I had given six. They were six failures. At the end, they had touched one limb to my carapace and said I had done enough. That was false. If I had done enough, then my crew would have lived. If I had done enough, Grace would have remained in the nest.
I scraped against the floor again. The restraints flexed, then tightened. I stopped before it could cut flow to the joints. My body wanted to thrash. My mind screamed to act. To fix it. To do anything. I, however, was held still.
All I could do was replay the previous night over and over again in my mind and try not to panic about it.
I tested the restraint again, slower this time. My left upper limb could rotate three degrees. My right lower limb moved less. My center limb was numb, my circulation compromised. I could not drag myself to the wall and attempt to loosen the restraint there.
I had to wait. Wait for Adrian. Wait for systems. Wait for death. No, no, no. No one was dying. I was not dying. I would wait for Adrian.
Grace had waited for me. He had waited in the cold room while I went to fix the false alert. He had waited with Adrian asleep beside him. He had trusted I would return with heat and socks and smugness. I was going to be smug. He knew that. I knew that. He would have called me unbearable. I would have said Rocky is loved. Instead, I had found Jade. I had understood one second too late.
One second is a universe when someone is taking Grace.
I pressed my carapace against the floor as much as the restraint allowed and listened through mud. Nothing useful. Again.
On the ship, after my last crew mate died, I kept listening for a sound that could not come. I told myself it was verification. That was a lie. I was waiting for someone to prove I was not alone. Then Grace had answered.
Years later, the impossible human with bad math and a good heart had answered across space and saved everything. Saved me.
Now, Grace called for me, and I did not answer. My limbs shook against the restraints.
“Grace,” I tried, but all that came out was a small dead sound. I tried again. “Grace.”
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Somewhere beyond the dampened walls, the dome continued its night cycle as if Grace had not been taken from the center of it. The systems hummed. The air moved. The artificial ocean rolled under artificial moonlight. Pebbles would arrive in the education wing later and ask where Teacher Grace was.
Teacher Grace was gone. Taken from his nest because I was fooled.
Fooled
Fooled
Fooled.
I was a damned fool.
Crew was dead because I was a fool.
Grace died (no, not dead, taken) because I was a fool.
Then, through the thick, dead world, I felt a vibration. It was Adrian. Adrian was awake. I forced air into my body and made the loudest chord I could. It came out broken. I tried again. “Adrian.” The sound barely escaped the wrap.
Again. Louder.
“Adrian!”
Pain burst through my carapace, still I screamed again. “Adrian, Grace gone!”
…
The second dose felt different.
The first had been cold. A sharp chemical winter under my skin, spreading from my arm to my shoulder to my chest until my muscles forgot they belonged to me. This one was warm. That scared me more.
Warm was supposed to mean sleep. Warm was supposed to mean Adrian’s arm under my cheek. Warm was supposed to mean Rocky brushing my hair and telling me I was sweet, which was stupid, because I was not sweet. I was angry. I was supposed to be angry.
I tried to hold onto that.
Angry.
Rocky.
Adrian.
Nest. Quilt. Beach. Pebbles.
Rocky. Adrian.
Someone touched my face. I flinched, or tried to. My body answered late, like a bad translation.
“Identity anchor remains,” a voice said.
No. No, that was wrong. My identity was not an anchor. My identity was me. Dr. Ryland Grace. Human. Teacher. Scientist. Friend. Mate. Not pet. I was not a pet.
Rocky.
Adrian.
The third dose blurred. I remember the needle, I think. Or I remember being afraid of the needle. Maybe those were the same thing now.
My thoughts started slipping. They peeled away in layers. The beach went first. The color drained out of it. Warm sand became just sand. The ocean became sound. Then even the sound had nowhere to live.
I panicked because I knew something had been there. Something important. Someone important.
“Rocky,” I said. He was important. I had to remember him.
A voice corrected me softly. “Old handler.”
No.
Rocky was not that.
Rocky was...
Rocky was...
I sobbed because I could still feel the shape of the answer, but not the word for it.
Rocky was important. Someone else was important too. I couldn’t remember.
Rock and…
Rocky and…
Rocky and…
I sobbed again. I couldn’t remember.