Rocky watches dubiously as the strange creature wanders around the ship. It jumps up onto a counter, sniffing at each glass and beaker as it goes past.
“Grace supposed to be running experiment,” he reminds it cautiously. Hopefully none of the abandoned components are volatile. Grace had the sense to turn off his machinery as soon as the vertigo hit, but still…
The creature does not respond, tilting its head at an image on a screen. According to the texture map, it shows a video of Adrian life forms scudding across a slide. The creature watches the movements, then launches itself at the screen.
“Grace, no!”
Its feet slip on the smooth surface and something knocks to the ground with a high, musical note. The texture seems brittle, but thankfully it doesn’t shatter on impact. The movement of it must be enticing, though, because the creature follows it, pouncing its two forward limbs on the item. It proceeds to dig at it with its claws, before picking it up in its mouth and trotting away. Its fifth limb is raised in something Rocky can only interpret as triumph.
“Grace fifth limb just for brag,” he gripes. “Grace not even know how stupid Grace act! Grace not even mad at Rocky insults!” What was the point of sassing people when they couldn’t understand you??
He follows the creature from his side of the tunnel. There’s not much he can do if it gets into trouble, but at least he can watch. In a way, it’s like Grace is asleep when this happens. He ceases to understand who he is, or where, or why. He ceases to be able to speak or to know things. And he never remembers what happens when he is Grace again. Very much like sleeping. So Rocky will watch over him.
The creature — a fox, Grace calls it, but the word is meaningless to Rocky; the literal translation of his own word for it is something akin to ‘little-Grace-stink-pest’ — drops the bottle it had taken as a trophy, and begins to play with it, picking it up and releasing it quickly so it flings into the air, then eagerly chasing after it.
Rocky settles in to observe, four legs folded beneath him; he keeps one hand on the xenonite barrier, tapping frequently to get a clear view. Grace has gone from long and looming to something much smaller than Rocky himself, and seemingly that much more fragile. He has grown a fifth limb, though it does not appear to function either for ambulation or dexterity, and traded his woven fabric covering for a hazy texture that densely coats his body. It makes him hard for Rocky to focus on. Something about him is always just a little blurry, which means that he is soft, soft, soft. Much softer than Tall-Grace.
Clunk goes the bottle again, bouncing off the xenonite before landing in Grace’s bedding, where it rests piled against the barrier. The fox chases after it, but has lost visual. Earth light-sense is useless. Can’t he sense it beyond the fabric?
“Over there,” Rocky tries to help. Grace is not performing his experiments, but he seems intent on his current mission. “Right. No, more left. There, under sleep-thing. Yes— no, no—” he points and gestures, but these things don’t seem to have meaning to a creature with no pointing appendages. What they do accomplish is shifting its attention. It turns toward him, tracking the motion of his arms. It does a little wriggle of its body, legs shifting more solidly beneath it. “Grace,” Rocky warns sternly. “Do not—”
Thwump! The fox crashes into the clear barrier, a much softer impact than the bottle, and slides to the floor. “Must still be Grace,” Rocky muses through a laugh, “because still have none.”
The creature recovers and begins sprinting around the room, its hazy layer puffed out and tail kinked. Rocky’s not sure there is a point to this behavior, but he knows the feeling. He has done it himself when his own excitement was too great to contain. He thinks of excited pebbles scrambling around on Erid, launching off of surfaces and getting their legs tangled. Grace does not have the space on the Hail Mary to run or jump or do much of anything in his normal shape — but there is plenty of room for a tiny-stink-beast, and maybe Rocky can understand this one thing about it. He might not understand why humans change shape without warning, or forget who they are, or launch their children into the stars to die. But he can understand the urge to run for no other reason than because you are free. And finding freedom in the place meant to be your tomb is an incredible thing.
Once it has spent its energy, it curls up against the xenonite directly where Rocky sits. Not the bedding, nor any of the articles of clothing strewn about the place. Rocky taps fondly against the barrier. Maybe there is just enough of Grace in there to know him. Maybe every part of Grace knows he is safe when he’s with Rocky.
“Is okay, Little-Grace. Rocky here when you come back.”
Grace turns into a fox every several days (idk how many there's no moon -- maybe he keeps the monthly cycle regardless, or maybe the lack of moon makes it unpredictable). He knows this about himself but doesn't really know why and doesn't keep any awareness, but he's generally harmless. Just a fox getting up to fox things
He comes back to consciousness completely casually and Rocky is like. "HEY WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT"
And Grace has to realize 1. He's in the buff in front of intelligent life as Earth's only representative, and we're not talking about muscles, and 2. He somehow forgot to mention this is a thing that happens. Probably the same way he forgets to eat or sleep, he most likely just lost track of time
And he just casually tries to wave it off like yeah this happens sometimes
And Rocky is just. ????!? >:V 🎵🎶📯🐋 WDYM YOU JUST COMPLETELY CHANGE SHAPE AND INTELLIGENCE AGAINST YOUR WILL WHAT IS HUMANITY WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK
HOkay, first submission for @goosegroupiechallenges summer fairy tale challenge!
Fandom: Project Hail Mary
Characters: Grace & Rocky
Tropes: Animorphism (the catch here is that...it's mostly just the aftermath/being talked about. also talk-about-the-thing-but-never-name-it challenge!! so idk if y'all want to count this haha. but it's a universe where all of that happens. Maybe more science-fantasy than fairy tale? I'm bad at this.)
Bingo: Hidden identity, werewolf (except, werefox.)
Wordcount: 2050
Rating: T for implied nudity
Summary: Grace wakes up after something completely, definitely normal. Unfortunately, he forgot to tell Rocky it was happening.
Prequel to this post but both can be read as standalones.
My body stretches, shifts, contorts, and I know instinctively what is happening as my limbs rearrange themselves, my snout shortens and my hair thins. My awareness of my environment shrinks, sounds becoming muted, smells fading; in inverse proportion, my internal awareness grows; synapses begin to fire again as I slide from sentient to sapient. It’s all mildly inconvenient, but I’m used to it. Some of the giddiness stays with me, and I let out a trembling sigh that might be part laughter. I usually don’t remember anything, but a lot of the time a feeling follows me through the process, and I get the sense I had a generally good time.
I don’t open my eyes, letting my head back on the floor of the Hail Mary. It’s hard, but not uncomfortable yet; the air wafts pleasantly against my exposed skin. There’s a luxurious relaxation to my limbs and muscles, like all the built-up tension has been erased in the regrowth and renewal implicit to the change. My mind feels floaty, detached from anything immediate except how comfortable I am, and a general sense of happiness. I haven’t had to think about anything or solve any complex problems in several hours. It’s beautiful, really. I don’t have to Know.
I’d be content to lie like this for hours, riding the gentle come-down like a parachute or a hammock, dozing with a tiny smile until humanity claws at me enough to get up.
It’s just, there’s something — a noise. A banging nearby. A frantic voice saying something I can’t quite understand.
I hum and give a lazy swat in the direction of the noise. Later, do this later.
“Grace! Grace!!”
I crack my eyes open to the glaringly bright light of the ship — ugh — and close them again. I’d rather nap.
“Grace wake up, wake up, wake up!”
The combination of octave and repetition lend urgency to the voice. The sounds become words; the background noise irises into a sharp hammering. I squint my eyes open again, turning my head toward the source. A familiar shape on the other side of a window, frantically slamming two fists against it. I am immediately reminded of a field trip to the zoo and spending most of the day scolding students for banging on the glass.
“Grace okay, question? Grace need help?!”
“G’mornin.” It takes a stupid amount of concentration to make my lips shape the sounds, but I manage it with a groggy smile.
Uh oh. The good feelings swiftly dissipate as I start to put two and two together. First of all, I am lying on the floor with an alien, humanity’s only representative to other intelligent life, completely in the buff — and I don’t just mean my muscles. Second, I managed to forget to tell Rocky something extremely important about myself. My bad.
“Yeah,” I yawn. Maybe I can play it casual. If we treat this as normal from the start, there can’t be any of the weirdness there was on Earth. “This happens sometimes.”
“Why, why, why?! Rocky scare Grace dying. Not know how to fix.”
…Yeah, I missed any chance of doing this casually by a long shot. I sit up and look at him. Rocky is swaying on his feet in a worried way, antsy to help but powerless to do so. He must have felt like he was watching his crew succumb to a mystery killer all over again. “I’m sorry, Rocky. I meant to tell you beforehand, I just thought I had more time and then…kinda forgot.”
“Grace know this going to happen, question?”
I reach for a nearby sheet — there seems to be plenty of bedding scattered around on the floor from last night’s adventure — and tug it over myself. I’m sure Rocky’s sonar sees straight through it, but it makes me feel like I have some kind of shield. “Yes. I wasn’t sure when, though. It’s kind of hard to predict—”
“GRACE KNOW AND NOT TELL ROCKY?! GRACE LET ROCKY SPEND WHOLE TIME PANIC BECAUSE ALONE AGAIN AND SAY NOTHING, QUESTION?!?”
Yeah, a sheet is not a big enough shield against Rocky’s very reasonable upset.
“I should have!” I agree, all of my post-shift confusion gone. Good, I need my head on straight so I can make this right. “This shouldn’t have slipped past me. You’re right. I’m so sorry I scared you, bud.”
“Grace useless! Grace forget eat, forget sleep, forget deeply important biological information. Rocky can not trust.”
What? I reel back in shock. Is he right? Am I untrustworthy? That can’t be how this goes. We’re stuck in space together on the galaxy’s most important mission. We have to be able to trust each other. I crawl over to the barrier, huddled under my sheet. Emperor Comatose, humbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I promise I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.”
Rocky has shifted his stance slightly; a little more on his far legs than near. He hasn’t changed the direction he is facing, but this is very much him turning his back to me.
I rest a hand on the window. “But you have every right to be mad at me. That was an awful way for me to make you feel, and you didn’t deserve it. You’re my friend. I’d never want to hurt you, but I did it anyway. I’m sorry.”
Rocky continues to ignore me, but he stays where he is. Finally, after a few minutes of silence that have me reliving two or three childhood heartbreaks, he clicks the claws on two hands. “Could have been avoided.” His voice is low and flat. I am still being reprimanded, but at least he’s willing to talk about it.
“I know.”
“Grace tell Rocky about sleep. About eat. Bad memory. Grace Rocky discussed needs and set boundaries and expectations. Grace not forget to tell about this. Is lie.”
Ouch. I shift to lean my back against the barrier, letting my eyes roam the sterile whiteness of the ship. Well, mostly-sterile. There is bedding all over the floor, a row of upset lab equipment, the scattered remains of a shredded burrito wrapper, and a line of paw prints crossing the room. “I was going to tell you,” I repeat, but now I’m not even convincing myself, much less Rocky. “I just needed to know that it wouldn’t affect anything. There’s a lot at stake and our planets depend on us being able to trust each other.”
“Amaze. Grace inspire trust. Immense.”
“Sarcasm,” I say. “But I get your point.” I give it a minute. He has every right to his feelings, and maybe some space to feel them will get it out so we can talk better. That’s one of those things I learned about adults from working with kids. It’s all the same, really. Besides, I need the time too: I’m really not helping my case right now. I’ve made a mess of everything, like I usually do.
Eventually, I hear Rocky shift behind me. “Why would truth affect, question?”
I duck my head, tucking the sheet around me a little tighter. I’m not ready to face him yet. Benefit of having a face is that I don’t have to. “It’s not as accepted on Earth. Not that it was a secret or anything, but…people kind of look down on guys like me. They think we’re lesser. Closer to animals. Some people think we shouldn’t be able to participate in society, shouldn’t have the same rights, shouldn’t be allowed to marry. Some people think we shouldn’t be teaching their children.” I know it’s unfair to project all of that onto Rocky when he doesn’t know better. I guess French amnesia drugs and 11.9 lightyears can’t get rid of your baggage. “People have left my life over it. I keep remembering it for the first time. How my dad left. How my mom struggled. Friends, partners.” My flipout at UNESCO had been partially blamed on it, and it ended up having a ripple effect for people like me in the sciences. Too unstable, too wild. Until Stratt came along. She didn’t have time for petty idiocies like prejudice. She just needed someone who could do the job, and that someone was me.
“Humans stupid.”
“And that’s the thing,” I sigh with a bitterness that surprises me. “I’m not human.”
“Rocky would not know difference! Would not care! Human, not human — are still Earth thing. Are still friend.”
Okay. Still friends. I try not to let that hit me too hard. “I’m sorry I expected you to be the same. That wasn’t fair.” We’re not gonna talk about my cracking voice here, okay?
Rocky is quiet for a while. “Grace protect self,” he says eventually, his voice soft but less flat. Thoughtful. “Protect self to protect Earth. Even if Earth not protect Grace.”
“It’s bigger than me, that’s all. Once I realized you were the best person I’d ever meet, I kept forgetting that we didn’t already know everything about each other. And if I remembered, it usually wasn’t a good time — we do a lot of important stuff where we can’t have distractions, y’know? And then I thought I had time, and then…didn’t have time.”
“Cannot predict, question?”
I shrug. “I used to. Back on Earth, it was tied to the phases of the Moon.” I’d explained the phases to Rocky before, when I talked about the Earth. The concept of a “full moon” is purely visual, even if the cycle behind it physically affects things like the tides. Maybe at the time, I was trying to psych myself up to tell him everything. “I used to think the Moon caused the change, but maybe all it did was keep me regular. Cause it still happens now with no moon at all, and I never know when.” I used to be able to plan ahead for it — it was easy when it was on the calendar, same time every month. Now, I only know immediately beforehand because there’s a bit of vertigo leading up to the change. I get maybe ten minutes’ warning, tops. “I don’t know what I’ll do if it happens in the EVA suit.” That scares me more than I’m willing to put into words.
Rocky hums in thought. “Then Rocky fix.”
“It doesn’t work that way, pal.”
“Can’t stop Rocky from trying.”
“Nope. Sure can’t.” I let my head rest back against the barrier with a quiet, melodic clunk. There’s an answering clink from his side, and I try not to smile. “How can I make it up to you?”
“First Grace put on clothes. Then Grace clean up ship. Then Grace explain everything in detail. Even if think Rocky not need to know.”
“I’m gonna do all those things regardless.”
“Mm. Then Grace sleep when Rocky say so. And. Do puppet shows for next three days.”
Ugh, puppet shows. “Fair enough.” Oh well. It’s better than I deserve. “Hey, Rock? Could you tell me what happened? Up til now, I haven’t had someone around to watch me.”
“Grace no remember, question?”
“It’s kind of like losing consciousness. Turning human is like waking up after sleep.”
“Explains why Grace no recognize Rocky or tell Grace was okay.”
I shake my head helplessly. “I can’t talk when I’m like that. I don’t know who I am.”
“...Explains many thing actually.”
“I didn’t do anything embarrassing, did I?”
“Mm. Grace do toilet all over ship.” I cover my face with both hands and groan. “Grace do toilet directly at Rocky.” Yup, there it is. I can see the dried puddle, partially crystalized at the base of the barrier.
I can smell it, too. Fox pee is ripe. “Very stinky on this side, but I bet it would smell like fresh air to you,” I muse. All that ammonia? Then something occurs to me. I feel my face heat. “Hey, wait a minute — how d’you know what doing toilet looks like?!”
That dang scary space monster suddenly looks reeeeal squirrely. “Rocky have to go now! Forgot something need to fix!” The little rascal starts to skitter away down his tunnel.
“Come back here—” I chase after him, clutching the sheet to myself. Deal’s off, buddy!
“Very important! Talk to Grace later! Much much later!”
