threefreefleas



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  1. Public Bookmark 77

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    The first time he feels the terror, he doesn't understand why. As he barely hangs onto consciousness, the soft silicon presses against his face, enveloping his nose and mouth. The spark of terror catches fire in his chest and quickly spreads across his body. It ignites a screaming inferno within his skull. He forces his eyes open. Everything is red. There's shapes above him. Pure oxygen fills his airways, stale and clinical and familiar and wrong.
    Grace's memories of his unwilling medical sedation and forced sacrifice return, vivid and violent. Later, on the journey back to save Rocky, he has night terrors. The thin lines between consciousness, unconsciousness, memory, and nightmare blur.

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    20 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    After the Taumoeba leak, after I decided to die after all and turned my ship around to save Rocky, after Rocky's frantic calculations about food supplies, Taumoeba multiplication rates, and human caloric intake needs, after we realized that with some rationing and luck I would make it, but that we were headed toward the unknown territory of trying to rapid-prototype me a life support system and synthetic food supply on an inhospitable planet: after all of that, after everything, I shouldn't have been surprised that it only took a few months on board the Hail Mary for things to get weird.

    ~~~

    Edit: I made some minor continuity and grammar edits on 6/20, this is the final version!

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    20 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Set after TMP. Spock’s impending pon farr makes him wary of agreeing to a second five-year mission, so Kirk agrees to lend a hand (so to speak) should the situation arise. What could possibly go wrong?

    Written for the KiScon 2012 zine. Beta-read by jaylee_g with additional editing by arminaa.

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    18 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “Grace how old, question?”

    Grace blinks, lifting his head up from the cool metal of the lab table where he’s been nursing a headache for the last hour. Caffeine withdrawal, he thinks, having finally run out of coffee four months into their four year journey to Erid.

    “Thirty—uh…” His mind blanks for a second, forgetting to calculate the four years he spent in a coma, and the still slightly patchy memories that have come back from his life. “Thirty-six, I think? Give or take a year or two.”

    Or: Rocky finds out how long humans live and crashes out.

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    17 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “Grace, question?”

    I perk up at the sound of Rocky's voice. It's not uncommon after almost two years into our trip to Erid to ask random questions about me, or humans, or really earth in general. Especially after an hour or two on his computer.

    “Yes Rocky?”

    “Humans persistence predators, question? Humans hunters, question?”

    “Ah.”

    --------
    or humans can seem terrifying to space rocks

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    16 Jun 2026