Rocky Character Analysis

Ilyukhina would have loved this moment. She would have been absolutely bouncing around the cabin with excitement. Yáo would have been stoic and steady, but he would have cracked a smile when he thought we weren’t looking.

My jaw drops. Yes, I’m in zero g. It still drops.
There was no pronunciation or inflection of the sounds. Just notes. Like whale song. Except not quite like whale song, because there were several at once. Whale chords, I guess. And he was responding to me. That means he can hear too.
And notably, the sounds were in my range of hearing. Some of the notes were low, some of them high. But definitely audible. That alone is amazing. He’s from a different planet, and totally different evolutionary line, but we ended up with compatible sound ranges.

“Do you ‘see’ with sound?” It would make sense. Humans use electromagnetic waves to understand our three-dimensional environment. So why couldn’t a different species use sound waves? Same principle—and we even have it on Earth. Bats and dolphins use echolocation to “see” with sound. Maybe Eridians have that ability, but on steroids. Unlike bats and dolphins, Eridians have passive sonar. They use ambient sound waves to resolve their environment instead of making a specific noise to track prey.

Just a theory. But it fits the data.

“I sleep better if you observe.”
“Why?”
He waves a few arms, trying to find a way to phrase it. “Eridians do that.”
Eridians watch one another sleep. It’s a thing. I should be more culturally sensitive, but he threw shade when I talked to myself. “Eridians are unusual.”
“Observe. I sleep better.”
I don’t want to watch a dog-sized spider not move for several hours.
“Have some other Eridian observe you.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I am only Eridian here.”

“How many years have you been alive?”
“Two hundred ninety-one years.” He pauses. “Yes. Earth years.”
Holy cow. Rocky is older than the United States. He was born around the same time as George Washington.

He’s not even that old for his species. There are old Eridians out there who were alive when Columbus discovered (a bunch of people already living in) North America.

“[…] It is name of my mate.”
I widen my eyes. That little devil! He never told me he had a mate! […]
“You have a mate?”
“Unknown,” Rocky says. “Mate possibly has new mate. I gone a long time.”
“Sad,” I say.
“Yes, sad. But necessary. Must save Erid.”

“Rocky! What have you done!”

The crazy bastard must have used the large airlock in the dormitory! He came into my partition to save me. And he’ll die because of it!

He shivers and folds his legs under himself.

“Save…Earth…Save…Erid…” he quavers. Then he slumps down.

He could have let me die. He should have, really. He could handle the centripetal force, no problem. He could have taken his time, whipped up an invention, and used it to get back control of the ship. Yeah, I know, he’s a good guy and he saved my life, but this isn’t about us. He has a planet to save.

“I’m going to miss you.” I take another swig of vodka. “You’re my friend. Heck, you’re my best friend. And pretty soon we’re going to say goodbye forever.”

So that’s what I’m left with. Option 1: Go home a hero and save all of humanity. Option 2: Go to Erid, save an alien species, and starve to death shortly after. I sob into my hands. All I see when I close my eyes is Rocky’s dumb carapace and his little arms always fidgeting with something.

“Rocky…that news about Sol…it…it makes my whole life have meaning. You know? I still can’t…I can’t…” I start sobbing again.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I wanted to be the one to tell you.”