Work Text:
“Computer, Food?”
I’m in my bunk, still wearing my toga. Belly up facing the ceiling. I watch the robot arms reach down to me, giving me my meal. It's a bag of viscous red fluid I don’t recognize. Having just come out of a coma, I assume it is some regular food mashed into a smoothie so my digestive system can get used to eating. It has a handy straw, like a juice pouch. I undo the lock keeping it from leaking, then bring it to my mouth. I watch that deep red travel up the tube, excited for it to hit my tongue.
The overwhelming taste of metal makes me spit it out instantly. The red flies everywhere, making a stark red line across the otherwise white floor. Petrova. The word comes to my head and makes my already sick stomach sicker. What was in that bag?
I eye it, trying to see if the outside has a handy label like “DO NOT DRINK”, but no. It had the day and the meal it is, and nothing more. I cannot understand what it is. It’s sticking to the inside of my mouth, coating my teeth in it. In trying to lick it off, I find my tongue brushes against something sharp.
“What?” I say, but it sounds more like, “Wath?”
My canines are way sharper than I remember them being. It’s preventing me from speaking right since I can barely close my mouth. I reach up with a hand and feel around my mouth. My thumb finds my canine, and- OW! I yelp, yanking my hand from my mouth. There is a bead of blood where my canines bit into my thumb. I stare at the red bubble on my thumb like it will give me the answer.
I had laid the bag on the bed when I went to inspect my mouth, so it sits right in my frame of view. My thumb stands out against it, and I notice that the blood from my finger matches the bag.
Holy- The computer is feeding me blood?! That’s not right. It can’t be. I need real food, a-a-... I fall short trying to think of food. I can’t remember anything. Whatever is wrong with me I have forgotten everything. Little things I feel like I should know slide off of my brain.
I stare at the bag again and my stomach grumbles. Maybe it’ll be fine. The people who made this place want to keep me alive, otherwise why put so much effort into all of this? I have to trust there is a reason. Unless the reason is to see if cannibalism makes you go insane.
I’m too hungry to care.
I take another sip. The metal hits me all at once and makes my eyes water. But I swallow this time, feeling the surprisingly hot liquid making its way to my stomach. I shiver with sick satisfaction. This should feel wrong, shame calls somewhere in my mind, but pleasure overwhelms it. It’s…right, to drink it. I excitedly squeeze the bag into my mouth, unable to stop myself. It takes only a minute to do what I was supposed to do slowly. My body has to get used to eating again, and sucking it all down like that will just make my stomach hurt. I can’t help it. Even after the bag is gone I find myself licking my teeth, lips, hell I considered licking it off the floor where I spit it.
It’s not enough.
The next day goes the same, and the one after that, and so on. I tried tricking the system by setting the time forward a day but it wouldn’t let me. After the first bag of blood the rest of the meals are always regular food.
“Clock unable to be set forward more than eight hours,” The computer repeats like a mantra.
I throw the closest thing I have at the robot arms. When it falls back down, it makes a loud thunk that makes me jump. I’ve been on edge since I woke up. Something is wrong, but I can’t figure it out. I’m not thinking as straight as I should be.
An alarm blares through the ship.
“One minute to engine cut off!” It screams.
Cut off? Cut off? What are we cutting off? What do you mean? I climb into the control room, attempting to understand any of the scenes I’m seeing but it just doesn’t work. I have no idea what I am looking at and only have the most minimal of grasps on where I am.
“Thirty seconds to engine cut off.”
I don’t-What is my duty here? Is this something I’m meant to stop? Ok. I have an engine, I’m on a spaceship of course I do. Engine cut off would mean I am where I should be. Tau ceti? Yes. Tau…tau…hrm. That’s far from Sol. Really far.
“Ten seconds to engine cut off.”
I have fake gravity right now because the ship is moving. When it stops I will float off. I will feel horrible about that because my brain is full of dumb evolution. I’m going to be so scared I will throw up.
Ok ok ok. If I prepare myself then I should be fine. I look around for something to hold onto, and right as the computer yells,
“Shutting off engines.”
My hand just manages to grab onto the seatbelt of the pilot seat. Holy Sh-...itake mushrooms! My preparations don’t do anything for me. I scream and flail and RUIN my jumpsuit with throw up. God it’s the worst.
I eventually get used to it, eventually get myself clean, and eventually hear the computer give me yet another warning. It is a few days, or weeks, later when it does. Time isn’t working right now in my head without a real day and night to remind me of the passing time.
“Blip-A approaching.”
The radar shows a small dot, moving slowly towards me. EVA. The acronym stands for Extravehicular Activity and for some reason I know that. I should go get that thing. Looking through the screens that show the outside of the ship it looks like a small cylinder. Maybe it’s a present.
…
There is a tunnel connected to my ship. I didn’t expect this little game of alien see alien do to become all of this. There is a clear wall that separates his environment from mine. I say he because I’ve barely seen anything of this alien and it’s the first pronoun that came to mind. When they eventually beam me into their ship and test me, maybe they’ll teach me their language. I sit again in the tunnel, full EVA suit. I’m not taking any chances with this, I’ve even tethered myself to the airlock just in case anything happens and I’m thrown into space.
Little clinking noises echo throughout the tunnel. I try not to look horrified when I turn to look at the wall, but I’m sure I do. Maybe aliens don’t have a concept of horror, or mine will look scary enough they won't kill me instantly.
A little…rock spider thing comes into the light. About the size of a dog, but twice as noisy. He says something to me I think, but it’s only music. A species that communicates with music? Fascinating! I’m sure if I was in Rocky’s (the name I just made up for him) shoes (which he doesn’t wear) I’d also be fascinated by how I talked. Do I sound like music to him? Wait, do some of our words mean something bad in his language? I suddenly don’t want to talk as badly.
“♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪?” He asks. Am I sure he is asking? It quivers at the end just like a human question might work.
We need a shared language or this will get really annoying.
“Hold on,” I say. I put my finger up in the way I’ve been doing.
I fly into the bedroom, then stick my head into the still open storage compartment. Somewhere there has to be some extra laptops. I pull bag after bag until I find the one I’m looking for, and inside are two of the four laptops I need. The other two are already in the lab, I was messing around with them earlier. While down here I catch sight of the robot arms.
How long has it been since I ate? I ask the computer about food, and it pulls a bag for me without protest. It’s blood again, and my heart pangs seeing it. Why blood. That question keeps haunting me all the way up to the lab. I start taping the laptops together, then bring the abomination to Rocky’s tunnel along with me. The bag of blood comes too, I figure he won’t mind me having a snack while we do this.
“So, Rocky,” I say. He isn’t startled by it, I figured out a few hours ago when I went to grab something from the lab that he can hear me, even if I’m all the way down there. I think his primary sense being hearing might have given him super hearing, in a way. How far into my ship can he hear? Can things block it? I’m getting ahead of myself.
“I don’t have much coding experience, BUT I’m going to try and make something to translate your words.”
I recall what I learned in high school in that extra curricular coding class. It’s…nothing special. I’m sure my end product would kill any software developer that I showed it to. Buttttt it works! That’s good enough.
“♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪?” Rocky says. I hold the computer up to him and point.
“We talk! I’ll record you, it’ll translate. Or well, I’ll write the answers in and- nevermind it’s not important.”
I point to the clock now. I had to tape it to his divider so he could see what it said. I gesture vaguely to where I think the one would be and say, “One.”
He makes a noise back. We are getting somewhere! I sip on the blood while we work. My reactions to it have been getting less desperate. The taste hits my tongue and I feel endorphins flood my brain, but that’s it. Just a small tidal wave of happiness that makes me lose my focus, nothing special.
Rocky points to the bag, “♫♫♪?”
I hold it up, “This? Um. Food.”
He doesn’t understand the word. He doesn’t know any words except for ‘One’.
Over the next few hours though we expand our vocabulary greatly. We can mostly talk about math, and some socially relevant words. It’s hard to put the more random words into something that can be pantomimed, but we do it. Rocky is much smarter than I thought. Even hearing one word once, he remembers it. He hasn’t written a single thing down, and he’s been tinkering the whole time. How can his brain focus on so much at once?
“Rocky want know what Grace doing before.”
“The bag I had? Food.”
“Eat question?!” he says with a tone I think is disgust. It’s higher than the other things he’s been saying, which is his version of distress. He made that noise when I showed him the astrophage.
“Yeah eat, why do you sound upset?”
“Is disgust. Eat is disgust.”
Huh. What evolutionary purpose does that solve?
“Why?”
“Disgust Disgust Disgust.”
I eventually find out the answer to it when I watch him eat for the first time. It was after a lot of begging, but he reluctantly let me watch. Everything comes out of the same hole, so waste and food happen at the same time. Rocky is sleeping off his food coma, while I reel from watching him eat in the first place. I see now why his species thinks it is disgusting.
I look up to the robot hands. I probably should get my own food too. My last meal was one of the standard non-descript burritos they have been feeding me, and that means I get a blood bag now.
“Computer, food.”
Like clockwork it brings me down what I…asked…for? No. No, this meal was supposed to be blood. Instead it gave me one of those burritos again. Did I do the math wrong?
“Computer this is wrong.”
“Blood storage empty. Vial will be provided in two hours and twelve minutes.”
A vial of what? “I need blood computer. There has to be more in there.”
“Blood storage empty. Vial will be provided in two hours and eleven minutes.”
I put the useless burrito it handed me to the side, then think better of it. I don’t want it, but I should eat it before it gets cold. After finishing it I start my journey through the screens in the control room. Rocky will be asleep for around the same amount of time I have to wait for the arms, therefore I have time to figure this out. I look for the blueprint of the ship. Theoretically it should show where they keep the supplies it magically pulls from the ceiling?
Nope. No obviously labeled compartments anyway. I do notice that there is a part, right under the lab, that looks empty. It’s a relatively small square compared to everything else, but I imagine there isn’t much in there. Pills, food boxes, some unspecified way to change the temperature of said food. I climb down to the lab next, trying to find it. The diagram wasn’t super helpful in actual triangulation, so I am wandering aimlessly. I finally find a suspiciously door shaped hatch right under the lab table. Getting on my hands and knees, I can see the seam better and the very tiny lettering.
The lettering says, “FOR ACCESS, PUSH DOWN AND SLIDE LEFT.” It even has a very handy arrow pointing…the wrong way? What?
I push, sliding it the way of the arrow out of curiosity. It doesn’t move. I do the same but left, following the instructions. This time it opens with ease. It’s a baby cap for amnesiac adults. Don’t want people that can’t remember how to read rooting around in the pill compartment.
Inside I find many of the boxes the computer hands me. I don’t touch anything, I don’t know how the computer decides what to grab but I’m not going to mess with it. Most of the supplies are kept in place with dividers anyway for that exact reason. I stick my head further in and see a box labeled “misc”.
I do my best to read the label from where I am. It’s a list of medicines I recognize, and one I don’t. It doesn’t have a name, rather it is named just like the meals but instead of ‘Day One: Meal One’ it is ‘Day One: Vial’. I can see the tiniest little description of it below, but I don’t have good enough eyes to read it. I decide to give up and wait.
I crawl back down to Rocky and do some napkin math while I wait for him to wake up. I’m trying to figure out one of our many ‘How to not let our suns die’ problems. I can’t focus though. I keep thinking about that vial. If they were only going to give me what, a week of blood, why give the blood at all? I keep scribbling down numbers, but I still can’t focus. I throw my pen on the table and angrily stand up. Somewhere on this ship there is an explanation. I know it.
The storage compartment is where I find it. I ripped apart the rest of the ship long ago, top to bottom. Landing me here, on my belly crammed into the storage compartment. One of the bags has my name on it with the added text of PERSONAL BELONGINGS below it. I drag it up to the surface (the bedroom) and lay the contents on the floor.
Nerdy shirts, beanbags, children’s drawings. I don’t remember packing any of this. I flip through the drawings, noting each name. They seem familiar. I’ve heard a good number in my flashbacks. I run my hands over the crayon. The texture is rough, and comes away with my hand. My kids, I’m never going to see them again.
I can’t think about that right now. I have something to find. I look through the rest and find a letter. From Stratt. It was buried at the bottom of my things, so far down that someone looking through this casually wouldn’t have found it. It was meant for my eyes only.
“Grace,” it starts,
“I understand you are mad at me. Moreover, I do not blame you. I had to do what was right for the planet but it was not right for you. I’m sorry. I’ll admit that, and I will pay for it in jail once you are gone. But I did not want you to suffer. I know of your affliction. I don’t know how it happened, or what led to it, but I’ve provided you with as much as I can to keep you comfortable. I cannot store blood for very long, so most of it will be sent into space when it is no longer safe to consume. I included a rudimentary substitute for you in its place. It won’t feel as good, but I am praying it keeps you sane enough to spare your crew mates.
You are a good person Grace, who didn’t deserve what I did, but remember Earth. Control yourself as long as you can. If it gets too much, choose the safety of your crewmates. If not for Earth, for your students.
I am sorry,
Eva Stratt.”
Stupid Stratt. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. I wouldn’t be forced to solve a problem on their behalf then…I don’t want to think about that. I am never going home, I know that. If I keep thinking about it I will never be able to do what they spent millions trying to do. So many lives, all dependent on me. How can I live up to that expectation?
“Grace question?”
I whip my head to Rocky. I try to hide how high I jumped when he said that, but I’m sure he could hear my knees thunking back down.
“Hey buddy. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. What are you doing question?”
“Looking through what they packed me.”
“You are supposed to be doing math,” he scolds.
“I got distracted.”
Speaking of, him being awake means it’s probably been enough time. I call out to the computer, asking for food. It hands me a vial full of a mysterious clear liquid labeled, ‘First Dose.’ As expected, there is nothing more. But this is still good! I can take it to the lab and see what is in it. I already have an idea though.
“Where is Grace going question?” Rocky asks while following me up to the lab.
“I have to test what is in this.”
Luckily the lab is stocked full of anything I’d need. I perform a few tests and conclude it is mostly water with metals mixed in like Zinc and Copper. Just as I thought. You can’t preserve blood for too long, it’ll coagulate or otherwise not taste great. So she sent something with the same metals in the hope it would stave me over. For how many of said metals should be in this, it’s rather small. I find myself sad looking at it in my palm. It barely fits, and already I wasted some of it figuring out the contents.
“Learn question?”
“Zinc and copper, mostly. Trace amounts of gold and iron too. But mostly copper.”
“What is purpose of liquid question?”
“Food to replace the other food.”
“Copper is not human food.”
“No…It isn’t. I don’t know why I have to take this.” I turn the vial again in my hands. There are the smallest flakes in it, which makes it look dirty. I feel dirty looking at it. This…this is going to replace the blood? This little thing? That won’t satisfy me.
“Grace sick question?”
“Maybe. I don’t-”
A memory. I am walking down an empty street. The man in front of me hasn’t noticed I am following him. No one has. I watch the way he sways slightly with the booze. It leaves a smell behind him, which is blown with the wind. I pick up my pace. He is larger than me, if I want this to work I have to be quiet. Step by step I catch up to him. I stand so close that I can practically taste the booze on his breath. I can smell how long it’s been since he has had a shower. If he wasn’t drunk he’d notice I was there. He’d be smart enough to turn around. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t. His blood tastes like earth, and I shiver with satisfaction.
“Jesus!”
“Grace ok question?” Rocky frets, watching me heave on the floor. I must have gotten to the floor somehow, but I don’t remember it. The vial in my hand is still intact, and with no hesitation I unscrew the cap and throw it back like a shot. It is close to enough, but not enough. Not enough.
…
Eridian blood also has zinc and copper. Rocky told me that the other day. He’s busy now, scuttling around his enclosure. But I’m thinking. I’m watching. I was on my bunk, but the restlessness took over me so I started pacing the room. I won't stop watching Rocky.
The components of his blood would be close enough. It would work. He walks around his workshop unaware. They are always unaware. Even back on Earth they never knew. Maybe it’s this body of mine, the soft way it is shaped. The way my eyes always look halfway between confused and scared. It lets them trust me. It lets me get close to them. Worm my way into their personal bubble and bite into their soft flesh. Rocky doesn’t have flesh, but I wish he did.
That was always my favorite part. The way my fangs would pop into their skin. The way the blood never stayed in my mouth. It would dribble down my chin, my neck, their neck. Painting everything red. It would be stuck in my fingernails when I got home, my hair. I could still taste it in the spaces between my teeth. I’d be gentle with him, I’d make him feel good. I just need to know if I can drink it.
“Grace is not paying attention,” Rocky says after a while of me not responding to him. I’m snapped out of my daydreaming and look back to him.
“Sorry, sorry uh- what were you saying?”
“We make chain, put collector on end, then put down to Adrian. Ship would be fine, get samples!”
“Yeah, that should work.”
“Grace is not ok.”
“I’m fine Rocky,” I lie, patting the wall between us. That stupid wall. I have to figure out how to break it.
“Grace is not paying attention. Grace is not ok. What is wrong with Grace question?”
“I’m remembering more about myself than I want to. I think I am sick Rocky.”
“Bad bad bad! Ask robot to help, no sick. Sick bad bad bad.”
“No, it’s not a sickness the robot can fix.”
Rocky puts his project down and scuttles over to me. I sit on the floor and lean against his barrier. “No understand.”
“New word, myth. It’s a story that humans tell that isn’t true. They are about strange creatures sometimes. We have a myth on Earth about something called a Vampire. It is a creature that drinks blood to live. I think I am one of those.”
“You say story not true question?”
“Well, I’ve been drinking blood. And now the ship is giving me a substitute but it isn’t working. I keep,” thinking about ripping Rocky to shreds, “thinking about how it used to be on Earth. I’m really hungry Rocky, it’s making it hard to think.”
“Ship no have more blood question?”
“Not anymore. You can’t keep blood for too long like that. Stratt didn’t even know what I was, she sent blood for me on a hunch. If I’d known sooner maybe she could’ve done tests, made real fake blood for me. But her version isn’t enough. Something is missing.”
He thinks for a moment, tilting this way and that. “What you need from blood question?”
“The metal, I think. Zinc and copper. The vials she made for me have a lot of those in it and it’s been helping.”
“Eridian blood have metal. Rocky can give Grace blood.”
Hunger claws at my stomach, but logic keeps in control of my mouth, “Mercury is usually poison to humans. I don’t know if I can have it.”
“If you need metal to live, you are not human. Do test. Little bit. See if make sick.”
“How would I even get it? You are on the other side of a barrier, and I don’t want to hurt you.” That isn’t necessarily a lie, but with the emptiness in me it is soon going to become one.
“Eridian blood comes when ♫♪. Rocky can ♫♪ and collect for Grace.” He does a motion that looks like bashfulness.
“I don’t know that word.”
“Means self pleasure. Eridian mimic mating with self.”
“Masturbation?” I fill in, confused as ever. “You bleed when you masturbate?”
“Yes. Body not have many systems. Blood is only liquid, need for egg to come out smooth.”
My stomach grumbles again. Rocky looks more and more like a juice box the longer I am like this. If…if his blood works, then I can focus on something important finally. And it’s just friends helping friends, right?
“We can try it.”
…
Rocky set up a tray under himself made of xenonite. If it wasn’t for the impatience I’d find this funny, but as it is I’m digging my nails into my leg. On the one hand, I get to see how Eridians masturbate. On the other hand I feel like a massive pervert.
“Grace observe question?”
“Are you sure you want me to watch? I can go to another room until you are done.”
“Grace observe. Good science. Maybe it will make you feel better.”
“If you are sure.”
I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m sitting across from Rocky, probably closer than I should be. I started further away actually, but in watching him get set up I worked myself up, slowly scooting closer. All I can think about is how hungry I am. I already drank today’s vial, the taste of it still lingering. I wonder what Rocky’s blood will taste like. Smooth, just a little heavy on my tongue. Metallic copper mixed with stinging pain from the heat.
He runs a claw down himself, reaching under his carapace. He tilts it towards me so I can see him better, and…oh the sight. The way the thin silver line clings to his hand. The way he teases himself, taking his sweet time. Like he is enjoying showing off for me. Like careless prey. I might not be able to hunt him, but the way I get to watch like this, seeing him so helpless. Moaning around his own fingers, trilling music that sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before.
“Rocky,” I call. The fangs in my mouth jumble my words, the pleasure from his moans vibrating into my dick. The precious little blood I have to my name south of my waist band.
He puts his hand into himself. He takes it with such ease, and it drags out more of that silverly, beautiful blood with it. I try to keep my thoughts off of my erection, off of his blood, but neither works.
I imagine him touching me, running those rough claws against my skin. I imagine lying down, licking at him. Tasting that blood, running down my chin like I always loved. Burning my mouth with his heat. Each of his notes would rattle my skull. God I shouldn’t feel this way about him. He is just a friend, just a…
“Grace,” Rocky sings and that line of thinking goes out the window. The way he says my name, like it’s the only word he knows makes my face hot. I don’t care if we were friends ten minutes ago, right now we might as well be lovers. I grab my cock, intending to make a show for him too.
“You look beautiful,” I say. I don’t know if I even gave him the word yet, but he shivers all the same. His hand goes faster, dragging lewd whines from him. I’m not doing much better myself, making no effort to hide how aroused he is making me. I rub myself through my pants just to relieve some of the tension.
“You…like observe…question?” he stutters out.
“Yes Rocky, I do…I wish I could taste you,” I lament.
“Would make Grace happy. Would make Grace full. Want to make Grace feel good good good.”
“You are- fuck!” I curse. I can’t help myself. The idea of his warmth near me, around me, it’s too much. His hot blood spilling over his hand, leaking onto the floor below him. The wet noises it makes as he does it. I’m so hungry. He could fix it, he could make it better.
Rocky tries to say my name a few times, but they come out so high and warbled I can barely understand them. He just keeps panting and fucking himself until he can’t anymore, hot air steaming the air around him so bad it’s fogging the xenonite. I follow soon after, making an uncomfortably wet spot in my pants.
“Rocky,” I breathe, “You’re so pretty.”
He takes a while to respond, but when he does it is done through half moans, “Grace is pretty too…Want to taste?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Rocky collects himself, then manages to figure out how to get his…blood…to my side. After all of that it doesn’t feel like blood, but feel does not negate taste. Because when I get the first taste of that thick silvery liquid it tastes like the first time you see a sunset. Or the way the light sparkles off of waves. We decided on only a little taste to make sure it didn’t kill me, but I couldn’t help myself. I drink whatever he gave me, practically licking the cup afterwards.
“Only a little!” Rocky tries to say, but it’s too late. I wipe my lips, staring at him with half-lidded satisfaction.
“I think…I think that worked.”
He chitters happily, “Good, Grace not stupid anymore. Can work on problems.”