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I double- and triple-check the math. Today’s the day. I even calculate it down to the hour.
I power off the spin drives. The Petrovascope is back up, and I aim it near Tau Ceti. To the right a bit, a little diagonally down—I’ll spare you the calculations. The blip appears. Zoom in and it’s faint, just barely within perception range. I hold my hand up to the screen to touch it, but I falter, as if mere contact would wipe it out of existence.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, but I watch as long as I can, the red dot getting dim dim dim. I find myself thinking in a weird English-Eridian grammatical amalgam these days. An eternity passes, and I can hear—not just feel—my own heart beating.
And then, that little infrared dot from Rocky’s engine flare goes out.
The screen is pitch black. I zoom back out. Only Tau Ceti lights up the screen, like a beacon. For a moment it makes me forget the disturbing emptiness of space. But even that small lightbulb of a star on the Petrovascope will fade soon. I think of Rocky, trying to sear the image of the dot’s last second into my memory forever.
I shut off the monitor. I feel the last connection, with any soul in ten light years, getting snuffed out. Some tears begin welling up.
He’s on his way home.
Farewell old friend.
♫. ♫. ♫.
ERID DEEP PHOTO ARRAY PRINTOUT 00000452 003 DETECTIONS FOUND DETECTION 001 RA 210° 14’ 37.1208” DEC 55.6832° DIST 0000.000036 LY PEAK STRENGTH -0057.5001 dBm @ 02.164343580 GHz EST. VELOCITY 0.99c EST. SIZE 155m
Against their supervisor’s wishes, Jax checked for the return signal of the ship. It had launched for operation Save Erid over 70 years ago, with orders to pulse on a special frequency once it returned to 40 Eridani. Every night, they secretly performed a sweep for this signal when the rest of the thrum went home.
And there it was, clear as ammonia: ∀∀++λλVVIIℓℓ Hz at -Iλλ.λ dBm.
Jax brought the receiver online, aimed at the same spot, and switched to the telemetry frequency.
♩. ♩. ♩.
Another hit. The sonar transducer activated. Jax could feel their outer shell vibrate.
After cross-correlating with five different copies of the signal, they were grateful for all the redundancies that they had embedded into the ship’s radio. Because this was undoubtedly the ship. The decoded signal was sprawled over their display, bits of raised rock arranged into Eridian writing, content mostly intact.
S█IP AU█OMA██C █TATUS ██PORT TOP DRI█E 24% BOT █RIVE █4% L██E SUP█ORT ON FUEL 422█8█6; 4.1█92█/█ CREW 1 ALI█E; ██ DEA█ AT█AC█ED MSG: [MISS█ON S█CCES█ SUC█E█ S██CESS. PR█PAR█ DOCK.]
It was back.
Jax had just watched history.
The first Save Erid thrum—the biggest one in history—had predicted a 121-year window before panic set in. Thanks to recent efforts it had increased to 150, but 70 had been used. Well within the old estimate.
Erid was gonna make it. They would be saved. Their planet, their sun, their people, they were going to live.
It was time to report these findings. First to mission control, to prepare the docking bay. Then to the Returning Committee. Those ones had signed up for this long-awaited job before the ship left, and it was time to begin the job. The job of honoring the 1—wait, 1 crew member?
***
The docking signal had been raised, etching out the Eridian symbol for “OK.” The ship swayed, left and right, forward and back, almost imperceptibly small each time. With each little adjustment, the ship’s airlock aligned with the space elevator. When the procedure was complete, the symbol switched to the “STANDBY” symbol, and a catwalk began growing out of the elevator shaft. It bridged the near-empty space, a tenuous atmosphere completely unlike the raging pressure below. The two xenonite constructs joined. Quarantine atmosphere was established and equalized. Then, the Save Erid team was free to disembark.
Rocky descended the elevator, mercury coursing through his veins. The walls seemed to sound a little louder. A vast crowd of Eridians below began to sharpen. The Returning Committee also informed him of the picture networks they set up. “You mean TV?” he imagined Grace saying. He could see the equipment coming into focus. If only he had let Grace finish explaining what “television” was.
Almost the whole planet was watching.
The thrum was volcanic.
A shockwave hit Rocky as he stepped onto Eridian land, over fifty years later. No, seventy.
Thousands, tens (maybe hundreds) of thousands, were perched next to the path, on cliffs, overhangs, and seating areas. Some desperate few even hung off the edges of sonar screens, which were televising the Return to all across the planet. Pulses flew out in every direction, though most concentrated on Rocky. Clicks, trills, snaps, and jazz hands filled the immediate vicinity. As he walked through the crowd, or rather a series of thrums, each one loosened and invited Rocky inside, instantly updating him on what he missed (and vice versa).
It was almost too much, but after so long, it was like a long 900°C europium bath.
The whole reception was a blur, honestly. Rocky only retained a vague recollection, which is surprising—good thing Grace isn’t here to rag him about that. Correction, bad thing. Grace would have had so many words to say. Stupid words, but something to say nonetheless. Would these onlookers understand?
After Rocky’s first transmission, the worldwide response was ecstatic, but quickly mellowed out by the line that was already being immortalized in songs and plays... CREW 1 ALIVE; 22 DEAD. The parade snaked directly to the mission control center. Millions of intermittent thrums later, and about a one-hour walk, it came time for the hard part.
The control dome had been soundproofed in preparation of the Return. The planet echoed all over with cries and hums of gratitude, admiration, and wonder. The dome silenced it as Rocky entered, ready to close this chapter and start operation Repair Erid. The awestruck scientists and politicians guided him to the debriefing room, where the final step of the mission awaited completion, where the visitor of a lifetime waited.
In the middle of mission control is a chamber, intended for staff thrums. In the middle of the lounge is a single Eridian, specially escorted here for this occasion.
Adrian.
***
The funerals were lovely. A whole planet, joined through hope and salvation only one day ago, now held still in grief and respect. The twenty-two were laid to rest in the manners they requested, all recorded and preserved by Rocky while en route.
At the springs on the west coast of the northern continent, where Nantucket was to be released, Rocky broke a chip off the gemstone of the 40 Eridani star, embedded into his arm. He placed the piece on her arm. A few others followed suit. Adrian hummed a prayer that she might enter the ♩♩♫♩♫♪♩♬♫. Then they, along with the thrum of family and neighbors, slammed their hands together in unison. Arms crashed down.
Phum.
“♩♫♩♩♬♪♫♪♫♬♫♩♫♪♫♫♪.”
The collective hymn traveled across oceans.
***
“Thank thank thank again,” said the Eridian intern. They could not believe they earned a spot on operation Rebuild Erid. Not only that, they were talking to the Rocky. The constant thanking clearly made him a little uncomfortable, but it was a ♪♫ thing. They knew Rocky was from the ♫♬♬, but they got it out of their system and would refrain from now on. Surrounded by two other interns and fifty intimidating teachers, researchers, technicians, and engineers, the intern continued the debrief. “Not complain, but why trip so long, question?”
“Long story,” he answered. “Humans call it relativity. Can explain easier in thrum.”
“Who is ‘humans,’ question?” Oh no, were they behind on the latest research? This must be a new organization or research cluster. Did they just embarrass themself in front of Rocky?
“Long long long story. Again, will explain.”
The debriefing took much, much longer than anticipated. Rocky hadn’t intended for that to happen. It’s just that, when the pistons start running in the ship’s engineer’s brain, it was futile to put it on pause. And Rocky worked fast. He wanted to get to work. So did the rest of the team, but protocol had to be observed. He couldn’t imagine what might be so complicated about deploying a bunch of Taumoeba into Threeworld’s atmosphere, but he did know the smart smart smart scientists knew something he didn’t. While they erupted into fanfare about the solution for astrophage and first contact, then rockstormed ideas to honor Grace the human, Rocky ran calculations.
They chalked up his aimless talking to grief or isolation-induced trauma. Rocky knew that roughly sixty—cumulative—years of complete loneliness had probably screwed up his head, but in this particular instance, it was really just Rocky being Rocky. He perked up a bit once they asked about human biology, and he rattled off about humans hearing light—well, the right term was “see.” Almost immediately the debriefers forgot about his mentioning the fragile bodies, self-destructive sleeping habits, disgusting eating rituals, and marvelously advanced scientific knowledge. Light had been on his mind since the three-year journey home—or ten from Erid’s perspective. That led to his next request.
It was simple. While the scientists work on Taumoeba, he’ll help the linguists and computer scientists—a newly emerging field—interpret and reverse engineer the laptop. With one condition: they give him any materials he wanted and full access to information pertaining to operation Rebuild Erid. The second was already a given. As for the first, if the thing didn’t exist, he’d help them build it. He had something to lose too—Grace probably had about 30 years left. Rocky already needed 16 or 17 for travel time to Sol; if he wanted Grace to answer, he had to act now.
Thrums for official decision-making were always documented, lasting around one to three hours long. Rocky’s request was granted through unanimous agreement in three minutes.
Before wrapping up the thrum, Rocky had one more ask. Long story short, with some good ‘ol fashioned nepotism, Rocky secured permission for Adrian to shadow the exolinguistics team. Eridian languages were so undiverse compared to Earth, and Adrian just got front row tickets. Well, more like second row. They wanted to spend the next 300 years learning “iinguhleshh” and “siphhhanishh.” According to Rocky, the human said something about learning the latter language for only 1 year in a “haiii skhuul” where one would receive many “efffs,” whatever that meant.
***
They built a light bulb first. The easiest place to start—use the laptop LED screen as a launching point. Nobody understood the point of this light invention, but they trusted Rocky who insisted that it was necessary for humans to “see.” Could a species really survive with such horrendous hearing? At least the laptop screen made sense—the light carried information. Why use a plain ambient light source?
Rocky’s light-to-relief tool was a novelty but got little attention from the other Eridians. It had only been useful on the Hail Mary to translate human screens, and in this moment, to test this inane device. The bulb was bright and steady, just as Grace described.
Rocky ordered five duplicates to be made.
***
Next came a camera. The laptop would’ve been a good starting place again, but the other Eridians were hopelessly lost with the interface and the overall tiny size of the device. They’d require maybe a century more tinkering to be able to produce their own solid-state circuits.
But Rocky needed results fast. He found a more mechanical analogue; humans called it film. Then he handled the information gathering, and translated and adapted human documents as necessary. The rest would be thrummed.
Now the plan was obvious. Partly because all the dots were easily connected—human eyes, lights, film cameras—and partly because Rocky let it slip during the last thrum. The thrum that confirmed their Petrova line was dwindling.
***
Almost three years went by. No more time to train a crew for a manned mission. So, Rocky settled for the next best thing: aim an unmanned probe at just the right time and angle. Then hope. Grace had demonstrated so much of that, despite never using the word! Humans are unusual unusual unusual.
A giant telescopic array was erected onto the elevator, mapping out the galaxy, in real detail this time. With new star charts, a course and launch date was planned and plotted and calculated and confirmed by millions. They got one shot at this.
A global crowd that rivaled the Return watched on their sonar screens at home or in public thrumming lounges. At the top of the space elevator was a newly built launch ring—the combined efforts of all Eridian nations. Sitting inside the ring was a small probe. The other Eridians didn’t really understand why Rocky wanted to name the probe “The Ryland Grace,” but that’s Rocky.
In any case, the payload was secure. Launch successful. Probe underway.
“I will miss you. You are friend.”
Yeah. I miss you too, Rock. Our last few days together have plagued my head ever since I touched down on a cold, war-torn Earth. No—ever since I left Tau Ceti. The last words we exchanged replayed again and again.
I tried to distract myself. Every research laboratory on Earth wanted a piece of me. Only some of them meant it literally. Sometimes I exit their building, only to turn the corner and think you’re there waiting for me. Without fail, my heart would skip a beat, seeing you without your ball. They built statues of you, friend. Everywhere. There are exobiology and exolinguistics majors now. Your xenonite propelled us forward by centuries overnight. There are children’s stories about your cooperation, about how to be a hero. The submarine on Titan was called the S.S. Rocky. You brought our sun back.
One thing that never went extinct on Earth was bureaucracy. What I wanted was to send a mission immediately to Eridani. Even a message in a bottle would suffice. Heck, with the new astrophage drives these days, it can literally be a bottle. But the United Earth Space Agency wouldn’t approve it for many years. By that point, I’ll be dead before you can send a reply. At least you’ll have it, so I hold out.
I always thought you were far beyond me in almost every way, but we have a saying on Earth—great minds think alike—and today I learn we’re more alike than I thought possible.
One of my old students, Russ, invites me to see the ground station he worked at (relativity had made him older than me). I always knew that annoying little rat would eventually do great things. I meet his wife Kyra too—she went to the Rocky Institute of Technology. She shows me their daughter’s exobiology textbook. The first chapter is titled, “Ryland Grace and Rocky.”
I just wish you could see it. Your impact. All of it.
But we can see something. From the station.
Your infrared signal.
I pull a few strings to get preserved telemetry data from the Hail Mary. I comb through it until I extract the signals picked up from the Blip-A, then I cross-reference them. I can tell by the harmonics that it’s an Eridani-style astrophage drive.
Is it really you? Or a message in a bottle?
Either way, I can’t wait.
***
UESA announced their findings today. Spectroscopic analysis confirmed xenonite. Telescopes indicated the object is about ten meters wide.
So it’s a probe. I guess “got home safe” texts transcend alien cultures. Well, for n=2. I’m sure there’s a million reasons why you didn’t visit directly. I don’t mind; I’m just happy you sent something. All these years I’ve been worried that your planet would be disappointed or offended that we clearly did not do the same. But with 689-year lifespans, our delay is probably nothing.
My body may not show it these days, but I’m bubbling with excitement. My mind has not stopped wondering and speculating on what’s inside. Interviews and lab visits just don’t hit the same. When was the last time I got this excited? Probably meeting you in that tunnel.
Simulations show that the probe will either get flung out by the sun or crash into it, so a small manned craft is on its way to intercept. We’ll catch it near Mars.
It’s a small vessel. Not the one I envisioned, the spiritual successor to the Hail Mary: over 200m long, enhanced drives, high-G dampeners. But after the UESA press conference, I caught wind that they’re now fast-tracking my old proposal for an Eridani mission.
Coma slurry is back on the menu.
***
The first thing I see is the stone tablet. Well, I think it’s stone. Maybe it’s some variant of xenonite or a metal, because it’s ridiculously thin and lightweight.
The second thing I see is the writing. Relief marks, all in English. On the back, Eridian writing—the first interstellar rosetta stone. I make a mental note to send this to Kyra or Matilde. They’d go crazy for this, whereas I know all the words still. I had a lot of time to review what little lessons you were able to give me on Eridian. It’s obvious that you’ve taken great care to use only words that I was exposed to during our time on the Hail Mary.
I can get access to almost anywhere on Earth. Never really saw the point of that kind of glorification, even if I helped out humanity a little. I stopped complaining because my goodness I had never wanted to invoke it so bad until now.
The lab scientists, upon seeing the first few words, start unpacking the other items. They all get the cue and mentally agree to leave me alone with the tablet.
Hello Grace friend,
I taught Erid all about Grace and humans. Erid make special gift for you.
Laptop was helpful for gift. Also amaze for all Erid. Technology go up Iℓℓℓ years.
Erid has many songs about you. Sun savior. Pebble’s show called Blobby the Spaceman.
I miss miss miss you.
Thank thank thank.
Fist bump,
♪♩♪♬♫
I recognize the last word as your name. It’s in Eridian on both sides, but you’ve given it a special flair on the English side. It’s more elaborate, more colorful, with extra decorative etchings and gemstones. And from one angle, it reflects the light to show the rough shape and colors of the Hail Mary. From another, the Blip-A. I notice each little glyph shines in iridescent when they’re wet. I wipe the fallen tears off of them.
I blow the sniffles away and rejoin the others. The tablet hid an interior chamber, which housed a camera and some paper photographs. How did you make these in your atmosphere? The camera, I understand—it’s clearly made of xenonite and big enough for Eridian claws to operate. A small roll of film and audio were vacuum-sealed inside. Actually the whole mechanism was vacuum-sealed, which I suppose makes sense. How else would you easily connect the recording method to the storage medium?
It doesn’t truly hit me until now. You built all this and sent it here. For me. For Earth. Just to say “thank you.”
Amaze.
We need to wait an hour to deliver an old school film projector. In the mean time, we go through the photographs. The first photograph and the caption in slightly scraggly script:
Rocky next to a very blurry Eridian. Probably shaking from nervousness.
Me and Rocky after Rocky come home. I work with him on operation Save Erid. Rocky big help. I am big big big admirer of Grace.
Hold on—how did you take this photo on a pitch-black planet?
Oh, I see.
You built human lights too.
Tears well up again. I don’t care; I go through the rest of the pictures.
A green-ish lavender-ish Eridian, with a tiny baby Eridian perched on top of the big one’s carapace.
Rocky and Grace save my egg. Pebble named grace but in Eridian. Thank thank thank.
A cavernous-looking dome. Three dozen or so Eridians gather around. I recognize Rocky in the center. Some have their arms pushed together in traditional Eridian greeting. Some are waving one arm, mimicking a human.
Science thrum near Rocky home.
A shape, which looks clearly like me, standing next to another Eridian.
♬♫♩ was greatest hero in Eridian history. They built Grace statue next to ♬♫♩.
Three pebbles and two adults. From right-to-left they progressively illustrate the stages of a backflip.
Grace invent new sport. Crazy humans fun fun fun.
Two Eridians waving.
Rocky and Adrian say hello.
I’m a mess at this point, but I trudge on. The film tape rolls.
A central rock formation. Lights bright enough to make it out, as well as Rocky and some others standing in front it. It’s clearly very dark in the background; barely anything is illuminated past the rock.
They come to life; chirps, trills, squeaks, and jazz hands all around. Rocky waves at me.
“Hello Grace friend! First video on Erid, amaze amaze amaze! We show you Erid!”
Rocky skitters up to grab the camera, turning it around along with the lights to show off his home. As he walks about, I see giant plumes of gas that would probably vaporize me come into view. Bold splotchy pools of neon green, orange, and red liquid bubble toward the side. The momentary jittering of the camera makes me think they switched the cameraman. A second later, Rocky is splashing into the orange liquid. He does jazz hands at the camera.
“Relax shower in here, safe for Grace, question?”
I laugh through muffled sobs and shake my head. Rocky leaps out, the fluid slithering off his body and leaving no visible mark. He shows the science center next. A grand dome, which is actually translucent to us. It’s a brilliant mix of green and gold in jagged patterns.
“Science thrums here after I returned. Gave Taumoeba, saving Erid, good.”
Six Eridians by the entrance wave at us.
“Grace meet Adrian now!”
Farther up the path, I see a circular arrangement of boulders, like a miniature cave. A single Eridian sits outside. Behind their back, I catch glimpse of a shiny, gelatinous egg-looking thing in the cave. Adrian crashes their arms onto the ground five times while humming. I understand it as one of the most serious and respectful Eridian greetings.
Rocky shifts the view to the home next door.
“Here parents. I came home, they watch me sleep, refuse to stop. Happy happy happy.”
The two slam their arms down.
“Museum next!” Rocky chirps.
Outside the town is a massive Eridian hall. It looks like a geometric art piece: lots of pyramids, diamonds, spheres, and connecting rods, all mish-mashed and interconnected.
“My friend gives free entry, keep secret!”
Little pebbles stop admiring the exhibits to trill toward the camera, jumping and backflipping.
The camera pans to one hall. At the end, I can ascertain the statues there: some Eridians, and me. The crowd is spilling out the hall into the main area.
“Outside has food district. This not for eating. You pick up food and bring to home.”
A storekeeper calls out to the camera. “They show eating video from Grace thinking machine. Disgust!” A few Eridians scamper away, food boxes on their carapace, at the sound of this.
“And there space elevator!”
It’s too dark to see, but after a moment it comes into view. They can’t light up the whole sky, so I only see the bottom. But it’s the Eridian space elevator. And Rocky’s getting in.
“We go up!”
The xenonite shaft is solid, so I can’t see outside. It’s a shockingly fast ride. We reach the top, where a catwalk, jutting out of the elevator, is almost transparent. Rocky’s running along. I see 40 Eridani outside. At the end of a catwalk is what looks like a launch apparatus. The probe in there is... familiar. Rocky turns the camera around to face him. Another Eridian holds the lights. Rocky’s voice lowers an octave.
“I see you again maybe, but human lives so short. Unfair unfair unfair.”
The camera view stays on Rocky as it gets lowered into the probe.
“Erid will never forget. Grace greatest hero now.”
He waves.
“Goodbye, friend Grace!”
He balls his claws into a fist, lightly bumps the camera, retracts, and the film stops rolling.
♫. ♫. ♫.
ERID DEEP PHOTO ARRAY PRINTOUT 00002883 012 DETECTIONS FOUND DETECTION 006 RA 25° 04’ 49.7280” DEC -42.2671° DIST 0000.000082 LY PEAK STRENGTH -0073.1 dBm @ 01.420405752 GHz EST. VELOCITY 0.99995c EST. SIZE 210m