Chapter Text
“Laika awake,” Rocky observes, in what Laika takes to be a quietly surprised tone of soft musical notes. Translating has been an obstacle she and Grace have found surprisingly difficult. Even if two humans didn’t speak the same language, their daemons could communicate a certain level of meaning and emotional responses without their humans having to get involved. Impossible, when the daemon of an alien was either absent or - as Laika deeply suspected - simply invisible. Adult humans rarely speak directly to the daemons of the people around them, but somehow this social aspect has been skipped over with Rocky, who speaks to both Grace and Laika with the same tone and friendliness. “Grace still sleeping, question?”
She cannot imagine being politely ignored by Rocky. Wherever his daemon is, it must be close by, and he is speaking for them both. “That’s right.” She jumps down from the bed and stretches, front paws out, back arched, letting her jaw drop open before bringing herself back together with a shake. “It happens, sometimes. One part of us is still dreaming.”
Rocky moves forward in his ball, clunk-clunk to be closer. “Eridians do not have this. We either asleep, or we awake. We do not dream.”
“You also don’t have daemons,” she points out. “At least, not visible ones. Maybe that has something to do with it.”
She reaches up onto the low frame Grace is using as a bed these days - the sliding panel they woke up on is too high in the air for her to jump up onto - and sniffs his hair. He’s still out cold, but she knows he’ll join her in around twenty minutes. She doesn’t exactly relish these tiny slivers of time apart, but they are a novelty she would miss if they ever went away. She drops back down and trots over to the control touch-screen Grace has lowered down to her height. The readings are all stable. A tightness in her ribs uncoils just a fraction. The fear of being out here in space has never gone away. Sometimes, the aluminium of the ship feels very thin, indeed.
“Laika and Grace hearts beat different rhythms,” Rocky remarks, tapping at the xenonite to hear better. “Laika’s heart beats much faster.”
“I’m smaller,” she says, stating the obvious. “And I have quicker reflexes. Not as fast as they were before, but…” she stops. Her ears tilt down.
Thinking about her previous self is painful, in a way she has only ever felt once before. In her soulful mind, she remembers it all clearly. The fear as they fled, the tackle to the ground, the way her red and white fur flew as she snarled and bit and slashed at dog-daemons many times her size, how Grace thrashed and cried out on the ground, how a needle sank into his neck and she instantly felt all the strength drain out of her body as she dragged herself close to him, to press herself against him before the darkness took over. She doesn’t know if she made it, if she managed to touch him through her own effort, before they were taken away.
Grace has not remembered this yet. She can feel in their heart that he is not ready to hear it, either. Right now, he needs to concentrate on getting to Tau Ceti E, and the task of sample gathering that will come next. And she knows that, when the memory comes back to him, she will have to be there for him. She will need to be prepared for him to be angry, upset, frightened, and in need of reassurance.
A small whine escapes her mouth. It is a lot to ask of a little dog, she thinks.
There is a soft crinkling sound behind her, and she turns to see Rocky reaching via the single tactile panel in his ball; his three-fingered claw gently coming forward to offer the same sort of comfort Laika has known from Grace her whole life.
She can’t blame Rocky for it - he’s heard Grace stroking Laika, picking her up, fussing her and the two of them being physically close in a way the Eridian cannot ever understand. She is not a pet, Rocky understands that much, and he has made scientific peace with the fact that she and Grace are two halves of one person, but the limits of how to interact with her are still muddied, at times.
Laika gives a small bark of surprise and jumps away from Rocky’s potential touch.
Rocky squeaks in distress, and backs away. “Oh! Apology! Apology!”
Laika shakes herself. He meant no harm. He doesn’t know where the limits are, not yet. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”
“Rocky cannot touch Laika?”
“….no,” she settles on.
It’s complicated. Grace is still asleep. The touch offered was unexpected. Giving herself this much authority over the relationship feels unfair. It’s too much.
She steps closer to the xenonite ball, to show there’s no hard feelings. “Touching a person’s daemon is… very intimate. Not something you would do casually. Not even for comfort.”
“Oh, understand. Apology.”
“Don’t apologise,” she says as she sits and wags her tail. “We know how different we are to you. And you’ve seen Grace and I interact, many times. It’s natural you’d try to copy.”
“Yes yes,” Rocky steps toward, and Laika reminds herself the barrier is there between them. Would she move back if it was not? Right now, she isn’t sure. “Laika unhappy. Grace touch Laika when you both unhappy. Wanted to comfort, did not understand social discomfort. Apology.”
Beside them, Grace begins to stir, no doubt having his dreams interrupted by Laika’s strong feelings.
“You’re a good friend, Rocky,” Laika says quietly. “We are very glad you’re here.” She hesitates, and then boops her nose against the xenonite, before going over to see Grace.
It was just the outside of the barrier, she tell herself as Grace sleepily reaches for her and she presses her head into his hand. It wasn’t a real touch. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.