{"sf1_id":1958013,"sf2_id":"Vm25gRNe","title":"Here, Fishy Fishy!","author":"DankeDonuts","words":373,"posted_at":"2023-02-24T02:14:00.000Z","tags":["Anthro","Bear","Deadliest","Ecology","Fiction","Fish","Food","Furry","Giant","Grizzly","Hunting","In","Male","Net","Prompt","Risk","Science","Scifi","Ship","Short","Space","Star","Thursday","Vacuum","catch","collection","count","dirty","fishing","gas","harvest","harvesting","high","job","jobs","limit","netting","scene","storm","ursine","word"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1958013-here-fishy-fishy","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Vm25gRNe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/8a/dc/8adc5d24-b2f7-470e-b040-ff7a5e877ec1","description":"GRIZZLY BEARS... IN... SPAAAAAAACE!\nThis story was originally a submission to FurAffinity's  Thursday Prompt writing group.","content":" **Here, Fishy Fishy!**  \nBy: DankeDonuts  \n[https://dankedonuts.sofurry.com/](https://dankedonuts.sofurry.com/)  \n  \n  \nAbove... the freezing vacuum of space, relentless solar winds, and brutal magnetic storms.  \n  \nBelow... the rush and roll of blue-green gasses, packed by enormous pressure into to a foam-like consistency. Whipping by at hundreds of klicks per hour more than any vessel could withstand.  \n  \nIn between these opposing deaths Captain Korvan drove his ship, the _Streamrunner_. Its ovoid hull, long stripped of all decorative color and in need of having its signage reapplied, was custom-crafted to endure thick atmosphere and crushing g-forces. She juked out of the way of an updraft, and rolled free of a cross-wind. Shuddering at a sudden resistance from the direction of the gas giant's northern pole.  \n  \n\"That squall in Sector Five-Three is getting testy,\" the old Grizzly churled into his throat mic. \"_And_ big enough to swallow a moon. Correcting course three point five degrees by negative two point eight.\" His crew had already lost two day's work to the torrent. He was _not_ going to lose them another!  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Within Korvan's cramped cockpit, the viewshield was locked down. Against winds of this speed, it could prove as much of a liability as a boon. He flew by instruments alone. And the music coming from _Streamrunner_'s triple-reinforced hull straining this way and that. Every groan had a meaning, answered by a corresponding action of the control yoke or tap of a floor pedal.  \n  \nWhen telltale beeping from a sensor panel started up, the bear licked his grinning lips. \"Get the nets ready!\" he bellowed.  \n  \nOnly now would he risk a clear field of vision. \"Raising viewshield!\" Its transparent ceramic panes protested immediately upon exposure to the screaming wind. But the view was worth it; outside, striated teals of naked atmo-plumes were scarred by wriggling shadows. Hazy and long, moving of their own accord. A few at first, then dozens. Hundreds! \"On my mark... Deploy!\"  \n  \nA new tremor grazed his ears, that of the external rigging re-orienting itself. Mighty arms craning outward, laden not with solar sails but webs of carbonized nano-steel.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Here we go, lads!\" the captain cheered, pressing the yoke into a hungry charge. \"Keep up the fusion feeds! The sooner we fill our holds, the sooner we go home!\"  \n  \n  \n\n"}