She took a very short shower, but drying her new fur took much longer. By now it was lohahumb, twice as long as before. And the shower had washed away the itg: she was ready to explore the ship, and especially to find something to eat.

  However, there was ohing she had to do first. She was now in the most private of enviros. And so she went to her and opehe special package she had received at the Ketcher ic. Its tents were rather a letdown, clothes. And very retro clothes, cave-cat retro style: five leather triangles with short brown fur oside and a leather strip at ead to go under her armpits and fasten to her back without any support; and five leather squares with a wider leather strip in the middle band to act as a loincloth. And a belt made of six leather straps holding a short knife in a leather sheath. 'pulsory uniform, to be worn at all times', the instrus read. At least the leather strings were partly fake, with memory pstiside that curled up into a fake knot on her back upon touch. Looking at herself, she really wondered who had decided that cats flying a spaceship should walk around as if they were eagerly awaiting the iion of the wheel. It was not paranoid security, for the knife in the leather sheath was real, a very sharp ceramic bde imitating bck flint. She sighed and put her other clothes away. At least her new, longer fur was better suited to this outfit. The evenings in the den had been good preparation for this outfit, as she was only teically not naked. Before Petra, she had only worn her sports uniform for washing. But even now that she was used to showing more fur, this still felt wrong, especially to the ing strangers. She took a selfie a it to Penny, 'the tents of the secret package'. Screw the secret.

  Ok, now she o find some food to go with her medie. She went down oo the passenger deck. The ship was a medium-sized freighter in its main fun, but it had five passenger s, two with two bunks and four with three. A big mess table, two showers of the same type as the one on the crew deck. But empty fridges. No food had been delivered. So she went back to the , ate an emergency bar, stowed away her useless civilian clothes and took the hazmat suit down two decks to a locker in the workshop, he airlock, to access the hard vacuum se with the fusion core and drives.

  "Rerra, the other pilot has arrived," the AI announced.

  "Cye, thank you."

  She walked up the two decks and then up the stairs to the cockpit. A cat y in the pilot's hammock but turned on her not-so-quiet entraupid noisy feet. The cat looked a lot like a twenty years younger Penny, dressed very fashionably. And she had of course the Ketcher's ocelot fur pattern. Normal height, not overendowed. She got out of the hammock quickly. The pilot looked like a fit, normal cat, very different from the Ketcher hostesses.

  "Hello, you, I mean, I am, Rerra," she stammered, still distracted, "Rerra from Petra."

  The other cat looked at her intensely before she finally spoke. "Chatee from Ketcher. Is that the new uniform? I am harmless and clueless?"

  "Eh?" They were not w from the same script.

  The pilot still looked at her, "And you are really from Petra?"

  She swallowed, "Adopted. And this is a mod." She tore her fur. "You know, this is actually my first ielr journey."

  "Ok, p dweller, please leave the cockpit, I o prepare."

  She was so fused that her tail shed out. A sed ter she had herself aail under trol again. "Hey, wait a minute. I am the sed pilot."

  "And I'm a ballet dancer." Chatee's retort dripped with sarcasm.

  "Hey, I know I'm young and," she almost shouted and then took a breath, "anyway, the ship is yours. I am from the shipyard. I am here in case something happens and because I am not a member of Samul and have a css C lice."

  "And just by ce, a super muscur small cat from Petra with a Ketcher fur mod? Tell that to my mother."

  "So, if I am not from the shipyard, then what am I?"

  Chatee hesitated for the first time. "You're not from the special forces?"

  "Me?" She stared at her, speechless. Special forces? Then she could not hold it in any longer and burst into ughter, tears running down her face. She held on to the ropes of the pilot's bunk to keep from falling to the floor. Special forces! That was where Chatee's cold attitude came from! "Special forces, huh, sorry, no, I'm actually the youei in the shipyard. And I passed Css C theory half a year ago and made two in-system jumps. If you get sick, I pilot the ship."

  "Ok, but that's not even close to Css C."

  "Right, I got my provisional css C lie on this ship. I am from the shipyard, the only o from Samul with some pilot experience. Because two days ago this freighter did not have a w sed fusion core."

  "Oh no, one of those," the pilot cursed, "but this is the first time they e with service."

  " Hold your horses. We are six teis and two AIs for the whole shipyard. Everyone wants to jump and no one wants to repair ships. We try our best, but we have her the time nor the right spare parts to finish all the jobs on time." She was on the verge of shouting again and took another deep breath to calm herself. "Actually, three of us are retired pilots, so be a little o your former colleagues who keep your ships flying as good as they ." Chatee's tail had dropped, showing a little guilt. Before Chatee could interrupt her, she tinued, "And this job was given to us with this ridiculously short timeframe of two days for a fusion core exge. Ordered from the very top."

  "Yes, from Fiyul," Chatee began. But she did not let her tinue.

  "Even with ht work, it is impossible to fully test such a repair. The meical es take almost a whole day, the superductors need another 4000 to cool down. And the rept core isn't a new one, of course, it's a 32-year-old refurbished one, downgraded to 80%. Fusion core 1 is not downrated, but I strongly reend not running it above 80% for long periods. Two t pumps still have old bearings, I had no time for them because of this stupid fur mod."

  Chatee looked straight at her again. "Sorry, it seems we got off on the wrong paw. I see, you are from the shipyard and really want to help. Sain. But, uh, you really do look like special ops, and," Chatee licked her lips. "Well, and this cave-cat chique ... "

  "You didn't get a package 'to be opened in private'?"

  She looked at her in surprise. "And you are surely not from the special forces?"

  "Just ge before the higher-ups e," she sighed, "it's almost 9000."

  * * *

  Chatee was soon ba the cave-cat outfit. Even though her chest fur triangle had more support, the pilot was visibly embarrassed. "'Ok, let's start again. I am Chatee from Ketcher, D css, 29."

  "Rerra of Petra, provisional C css, 17. And you look younger."

  "Thanks, but I also had a session at Ketcher - but no mods. And I must say that the cave-cat look works better for you than for me. you fight like that?"

  She showed her hands, pointing to her feet. "Went to school at Crice's. All kittens form old s. With my human hands a, well, massive bullying from parents and cssmates. So I took up martial arts and gym training. Left the phe day I graduated."

  "Wow, that sounds like a long story."

  "Some other time. Let's get the ship ready. Do you have a destination?"

  Chatee shook her head. "No, but I have been given a 9000 departure."

  "Same for me. robably in for a long journey, we have a wet cargo hold, 64 tons of hydrogen. More than 50 days worth of 0.75 g. I guess the ground dwellers o be kept in their fort zone, no matter what the engine load."

  Chatee nodded, "Sorry for calling you one."

  She waved it away. "I've run all the checks I could without a destination. But please check again, as I said, this is the first time I have dohis outside of a simutor. Would you like the cockpit to yourself?"

  "No, stay, it is to fly alone. Besides, I wonder hoassehere are. I guess more than five, since we are two pilots."

  "Cye, make Chatee now first pilot, thanks."

  "Thank you, Rerra. I look forward t with you, Chatee," the ship said.

  * * *

  It was 9114 when the main party finally approached. They went down to the small passenger airlod waited on the ship's side. The te-night traffi the other side of the dog ring suddenly stopped and a cordon of ten big cats from Ketcher in riot gear cleared the way. The two cats who followed them were also wearing their cave-cat uniforms. Even through the fur, she could see their bulging muscles and their long bck cws clig on the ground. Looking at them, no one would have mistaken her for special forces. The two hulk-cats stood guard oher side of the entrao the ship on the dog ring side.

  She straightened involuntarily as well.

  came two cats, also dressed in cave-cat style, but more fashionable and with some jewellery. They were clearly the heads of the delegation. One was quite old, possibly a mother, and the other was not much older than she was. Although with Ketcher's rejuvenation services, she was no longer sure of anyone's age. Both were far from the super-feminine ideal, which meant they were probably showing their real bodies. Their ente, however, were all tall, big-breasted and otherwise well-proportioned, like the stereotypical cats in an adult video. They were quite simir in shape, just different faces and tails, so she suspected that they had all had a makeover. She ted twelve, so it would be very crowded on the ship.

  The old cat turo Chatee. "Show us to our ," she said and padded off.

  After a few moments, Chatee was running after the old cat in her fluid way.

  The young cat was still standing irand turo her. "You, what are you?" she demanded.

  "Sed Pilot, Rerra of Petra." She swallowed and bowed formally. "Wele to the Cye."

  That was not what the cat expected to hear or see, as she hesitated for a split sed before resuming her arrogant stance. "Show us the ship!"

  "Please follow." She poio the stairs off to the side.

  The cat turo her retinue. "tih the loading!" she said and then walked forward.

  She walked a little behind. She knew from Samul that this was her position as the you and lowest ranking. She led the other cats through the mess to the stairs, not wanting to disturb the old cat's briefing with Chatee. They went to the workshop and the food store first.

  "There are five empty, freely programmable ste units here. Otherwise, it is mostly repair and mainteools. Behind this airlock is the engiion with radiation and hard vacuum."

  " we see outside?"

  "There are windows in the cockpit, but"

  "Take me there."

  "Then up these stairs and up the stairs, too."

  The young cat's jewellery jingled with every step upwards. There were even rings oail. She climbed the stairs quickly and gracefully but jingling. And then even faster up the stairs to the cockpit.

  She had just entered. "Why are the windows bck?"

  "The shutters are closed. Cye, open the cockpit shutters."

  The shutters opened, revealing a close-up view of the station, the bow in the recess above the dog port, locked to the cargo hold. Only the moving shadows told of the station's rotation.

  "Where are the stars?"

  "Behind us. Cye, aft camera live feed on s 3."

  "No stars?" She was clearly disappointed.

  "Not until we leave the station, sorry. Cye, do we have any other optical ports looking aft?"

  "Not in the pressurised se."

  "Please call me as soon as there are stars."

  "Sorry, madam, I am only the sed pilot. Only the first pilot allow that."

  "I see. you take me to my ?"

  "Yes, two steps down again."

  They were on the sed flight of stairs when the lights flickered. "Cye, status!"

  "Short circuit in the galley in the cooking area."

  Great, and she was so hungry. "Cye, cut all power to that se."

  She quickly took the young cat to one of the twin s on the passenger deck. As she entered she bowed. "Sorry, madam, I must leave for repairs."

  "Please, tell me when I see the stairs, sed pilot Rerra of Petra."

  "Yes, Madam." She bowed and then turned. It was o be addressed by full name by this important cat. Still, the cat did not bother to give her name, probably assuming that everyone knew who she was. Well, the galley first. Two of the geous cats from the ente were trying to get the steamer and oven w. The stench of burnt insution was there too.

  "Don't bother, short circuit. I will fix it, I'll just get my tools."

  She returned quickly with the electrical toolbox and some ccables and unscrewed the floor tiles in front of the oven. The stench of burnt pstic almost turned her empty stomach. The further in the back, the thicker the yer of soot. She sighed, she had to go all in.

  So she put oility belt, strapped a fshlight to a headband and climbed into the floor on her back. Just a finger's breadth above her breasts were the spants supp the floor. Behind the oven, she could clearly see that the main power cable from the bus bar to the top was charred. She removed the es and robbed backwards until she could get out again.

  Five pairs of expet eyes stared at her.

  "Not fihe main cable o be repced."

  They looked disappointed. She climbed up the oven by the handles, removed the four screws from the ceiling panel a hang by its wires. With a quick push, she was in the ceiling. There was more space here, as there was nothing on the crew de this area. Unfortunately, there was also more soot.

  And then she saw the mess. Someone had rewired the stove to the steamer using half a strand of the inal cable. But whoever did this had not used ferrules, and over time the strands had oxidised, increasing their resistance. Until one day, the resistance heated the cable so much that it had carbohe wire insutiohe two phases id on top of each other. So both the oven and the steamer needed new power es. She could still uhe nuts at the steamer and oven, so far so good. She quickly got out, ign the increased number of spectators, measured out two lengths of matg two-phase cable and crimped ferrules onto ead. Jumping back up into the ceiling, she wiped the soot off all the tacts she could reach, then rasped the cupper nuts back to shine and ected the two cables to the top of the steamer and the oven.

  O and ba the floor, she could finally remove the broken wires, shorten the new ones, crimp them and ect them to the bus bar. The ohmmeter showed low readings here too.

  She climbed out, "Cye, power the galley bus bar."

  "Power is on."

  Everyone cheered as the panel o the oven and steamer lit up.

  "Attention, this is the first pilot. We are ready for take-off."

  She did not wait and climbed up the oven to reattach the ceiling pahere was a small jolt and a slight sideways po. Chatee had de-docked under power so that the gravity would gradually disappear.

  She quickly screwed the bottom panel ihen coiled up the stinking and burnt cables and pced them ooolbox. She opehe door to the mess room ao the stairs to the workshop. The old cat was staring at her.

  "What's that filthy cat doing here? Threw her off."

  "I was repairing the galley, madam. And we have just left the station." She still bowed, then walked past her towards the stairs.

  No one said anything, no oried to stop her. The onlookers stopped at the top of the stairs. "Where's my dinner?" the old cat shouted. The other cats went back quickly.

  In the workshop, she took off her utility belt. The yellow pstic was very dark, and where the belt had been, she now had a bright ring in her soot-darkened fur. She pced the cables in a rubbish bag and secured everything. "Chatee, the galley repairs are done. And I urgently need a shower."

  "We have stristrus o drop below 0.3 g for this voyage. Enjoy your shower, you certainly deserve it."

  She ran up through the mess to the other side of the stairs, but the old cat was no lohere.