threefreefleas



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    The engineer takes my hand. His skin runs hot. Very hot. He doesn't let go at what I would gauge as a socially-acceptable handshake time interval. Are we just holding hands in the middle of the lab-workshop space? Guess we are.

    "I'm Rocky," he finally introduces himself. He has a hint of an accent, something lilting, melodic. I can't really place it.

    "Rocky," I repeat, slowly. "Like the movies?"

    "No," Rocky deadpans, giving me a look like I'm stupid. "Like the rocks."

    Language:
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    10/?
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    13 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Proof of concept,” ♫♬♯♩♩♫ says. “We’ve tested it thoroughly to ensure it fits the specified nutritional profile, and several members of our team have ingested small amounts of it to ensure there were no adverse effects.”

    “You ate some of it?” I ask, rudely. I’m too irate to mind my language. Who do they think they are? That meat is for Grace. In a way, that meat is Grace.

    “Yes,” ♫♬♯♩♩♫ says. They and the rest of the human life support thrum know better than to be offended by my occasionally strange behaviour. “Obviously we weren’t going to risk the life of Honoured Grace on a completely untested technology.”

    That doesn’t mean much. There’s a lot of things that are safe for ingestion by Eridians that would outright kill a human.

    Trust Grace, I remind myself. He’ll have thought of all this.

    (OR: Grace's meburgers from the book epilogue. Let's talk about those!)

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    12 Jun 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Hours later, Rocky wriggles awake. The pain has eased. His heartbeats have slowed. His cells are still functioning. There is no falling apart. He can hear the scritch-scratch of his five claws on Xenonite. He can hear the machines, humming their false song. He can hear the silent expanse of space. The distant stars. His friends, dead in the hull. And the building feeling, deep in every cell — every fibre of his body — that something is so incredibly wrong.

    Rocky knows this disease. Exhaustion. And all alone in space, there is no cure.

    It is a primal requirement that Eridians sleep only under the trusting gaze of their companions. Rocky spends forty-six years alone in space.

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    2,176
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    1/1
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    12 Jun 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “If you could be any astronomical object, what kind of astronomical object would you be and why?”
    Rocky cannot be astronomical object. Rocky can only be Eridian.
    “Humor me, pal, I’m dying of boredom over here.”

    (or, snapshots of the fourteen days that Rocky and Grace spent making the chain in orbit around Adrian)

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    12 Jun 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Grace is put on cleaning duty and gets a mysterious fourth bag of vodka for his troubles.

    Rocky begrudgingly takes on the role of Designated Driver slash Space Blob Supervisor, and receives a different kind of gift in return.


    “Grace. What are you doing?”

    Grace's mouth, still smushed against my xenonite, curves upward: Contentment, happiness, satisfaction. Interesting, that it should be prone to smiling when made stupid by ethanol, but not so much when it gets stupid because of a lack of sleep.

    “‘s called a kiss, buddy. I‘m givin’ you. A kiss. ‘cause you're my best friend annnnd I like you. And y’nno what, you're actually pretty nice. When you’re not goin’ outta your way to be mean to me, that is.”

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    11 Jun 2026