FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's note: This one starts off a little tame. Good things will come soon, though!

_ WARNING. WARNING. MULTIPLE HOSTILE CRAFT DETECTED IN CLOSE PROXIMITY. WARNING. WARNING- _

Her fist crashing through the speaker shut up the automated warning, if not the incessant beeping of the control panel. She didn't dare damage that, though; it was the only thing allowing her to keep out of weapons range of the seven biomech skirmish ships chasing her. And, thanks to Maknesh's "clever" tampering, it wasn't as simple as point the damned pod in the direction to go; no, the navigation computer was dead-set on reaching Tamaves-Auchron 5, still another two and a quarter light-years away, The only way she could maneuver the damn pod was to trick the computer into thinking that the planet kept

moving from place to place so that it would correct its course. That of course meant calculating spatial coordinates on the fly, in her mind- and the sharp headache that she now suffered, thanks to a near-concussion she gained when the first mass-driver shot had hit the pod without warning, made that even more difficult than usual.

If I could shake the ships for just twenty seconds... that would be enough time to reform the warp sphere and set my heading for the next waypoint. But with seven of them on my tail, that's easier thought than done....

_ *KHHHTHAK-BOOM* _

Only quick reflexes saved her head from another painful impact with the console. Couldn't even leave the seat, could you, Maknesh?! she thought bitterly, staring down at the displays. As if things hadn't been bad enough before, a lucky spazer shot had taken out one of her maneuvering thrusters and severed the plasma feed to the dorsal warp-sphere generator. Her chances at escape had just gone from tiny to infinitesimal.

One thing left to do, she admitted to herself. She pulled up the communications interface, set the transmitter to the widest spectrum she could and began speaking in GalCom2.

"Mayday, mayday. I am a non-hostile ship under attack by biomech fighters. Please assist. Repeat, please assist."

--

"Let's see. Computer, move...." He took a bite out of his apple. "...d5 to b4."

The pixellated knight on the display moved in response to the command, tromping his black horse along several squares on the virtual chessboard towards a man in a white robe. Sword clashed against staff for a moment, and then the man in the white robe fell, and faded from view. The knight stood over the square and raised his sword in triumph. "Knight takes bishop at b4," the computer announced, its synthesized feminine voice sounding just a little smug.

"Damn straight," he said. "What have you got for that?"

His confidence shattered just as he was taking another bite from the apple. "Computer moves g6 to d3," the voice said; a woman dressed in a regal white dress walked elegantly along the chessboard, took her place, then spun and pointed her scepter at his king, who knelt down. "Computer claims checkmate," the voice continued.

"Ah, hell." He slammed the apple down on the table. That's what I get for being too aggressive, he thought. Always happens- I create my own weak point and it gets exploited. One of these days I'll learn... until then, I'm going to keep getting spanked at level 3 Battle Chess.

As he opened his mouth to order the computer to reset the board, a shrill alarm cut him off. Emergency transmission detected flashed across the screen, followed by Vessel Type Unknown. The apple fell to the deck as he bolted off the chair and rushed to the pilot's chair; bringing up the comms menus. A quick scan showed that he had no more of an idea what kind of ship it was than the computer did, but as he brought the audio up, it was at least a language he could recognize. Mayday call, he thought. The transmission has no call tags or ID prefix, though. Could be anybody....

Then several more ships came into scanner range, and he grimaced. 'Mechs. THOSE I'd recognize anywhere. There were seven of them in total, mercilessly pursuing and trying to encircle the unknown, unarmed and unshielded alien vessel. Heat signatures showed heavy damage on their target. It wasn't like him to get mixed up in situations that didn't involve him... but when it came to the 'mechs, the only thing he wanted to do more than slag them was slag them again.

He quickly brought the ship to combat readiness, shutting down the matter accumulators and powering up the weapons systems. The 'mech ships were putting out so much electromagnetic and radio energy that he didn't even have to bring up the active scanners to target them with precision; the real matter was getting into range before they slagged their quarry. He couldn't help but flinch as one of them scored a serious hit to the craft's propulsion section, causing a secondary explosion that sent it tumbling out of control. As the 'mech ships changed course to surround it, he saw his chance, and fired.

Even at seventy klicks his aim was spot-on. Two of the seven 'mech ships each took a phased-polaron blast to the rear; the unshielded, cyborg-tech vessels were shredded by the spheres of ionized energy, and internal explosions sent shards of metal and flesh flying. By the time the remaining ships realized they were being attacked, two more were hit; one exploded like its cousins, while the other survived the hit but was sent spinning off, disabled.

He was forty thousand kilometers away, now, and the third volley missed as the 'mech ships finally took evasive action. He was loathe to waste expensive missiles on mere skirmish ships, but as a precaution he placed active locks on the three remaining ships even as he took evasive action to avoid their return fire. One mass driver, one spazer, and one railgun, his mind catalogued, even as he adjusted his shields to compensate for the light but not insignificant hits the shields were taking from their continuous fire. He switched to the plasma guns for the close-up work, pummeling the closest one with superheated argon gas that melted through the ship's bizarre amalgamation of flesh and metal. It took a lengthy volley before the inner hulls finally gave way and its "heart" spewed forth thick greenish-yellow fluids that froze almost instantly; the ship thrusted wildly for a moment in its death throes, then went silent.

The skirmisher with the railgun was proving itself to be a real pest, and the shields were starting to complain about the stress the heavy slugs were causing, so he armed a single missile and- hoping the thing wasn't toting countermeasures- fired. The missile streaked out, leaving a thin trail as its engine thrust it directly at the skirmish ship; it attempted a crazy maneuver to avoid it, to no avail. The missile struck it head-on, burrowed deep into the hull and then detonated, blowing the skirmisher in half and sending more viscous gore into hard vacuum to be flash-frozen almost instantly.

The only thing uglier than them dying is them living, he thought in a moment of revulsion, even as he brought the ship around in a tight roll to evade a stream of charged energy. It insisted on getting behind him, trying for his propulsion system- so he simply used the maneuvering thrusters to spin his ship on its axis, flipping it over to face the skirmisher. Before it could react, it took a couple dozen plasma bolts for its trouble, melting through weapons and sensors. Blinded and helpless, the biomechanical ship thrusted off in a random direction, quickly disappearing from view.

The entire exchange had taken less than two minutes, but in that time the stricken vessel that had called for help had gotten almost two hundred klicks away. He quickly moved the ship to intercept, hoping that the damage wouldn't cause its power core to overload as he caught up to it; fortunately, an active scan once he reached a good range showed that the ship was still holding together. Once he closed in to two thousand meters, he carefully applied gravimetric tractor beams to gently bring the vessel to a stop. Then he backed the ship around and brought the vessel into his cargo hold. Notification ights flashed green as the hold locked down. "Computer, plot course to the nearest friendly station and proceed at emergency speed. Give me an ETA. Also prep the medical beds."

"Orders confirmed," the computer replied. "ETA to station Epsilon-Seven-Three, owned by Glashow Metallurgy, in six hours. Medical beds are now powering up and will be at full readiness in thirty seconds."

"Good." With that, he jumped up from the pilot's chair and ran from the cockpit, down towards the cargo hold. The air purifiers were doing their best to screen out the smoke still coming from the abused hull plating of the vessel- which looked as much like a rather large escape pod than anything else- but there was still a light haze that made him

cough for a moment. The markings and logos were a completely unknown language, but several pictures made the task of opening the hatch seem easy enough. Still, he had to be careful.... "Computer, I need a detailed scan of the atmospheric composition inside the craft," he said. "Contrast to onboard standard and alert for any significant differences."

There was a moment's pause, and then: "Scanned oxygen levels 2.7 percent below onboard standard. Scanned nitrogen levels 6.3 percent above onboard standard. Trace gases within nominal range. No dangerous anomalies detected."

Well, then, one thing to do.... He opened a panel covered by red and purple stripes, found a metallic handle underneath it, gasped and pulled, and the hatched popped open with a soft pop.

Thick smoke greeted him instantly, and he waited for the differences in air pressure to draw most of it out before he went inside. The cabin was cramped and spartan, the few display panels that still functioned scrolling reports in the same unfamiliar language that graced the outside of the vessel. "Hello?" he called out in GalCom2, not wanting to surprise any possible survivors; there was always the chance they would see him as hostile. "I am here to help. Is anyone here?" It was difficult for him to speak the second Galactic Common language; the deep clicking and hissing noises were meant for the various insectoid, reptilian and cetacean species who had trouble with GalCom1's smoother vowels. Still, in his line of work it was a good idea to at least be able to get basic concepts across to anyone he might encounter.

He was about to call out again when he heard something that sounded like a soft moan. Slowly, he crept his way through the ship towards what he assumed was the cockpit; as he made his way through what seemed to be a very small junction, he saw a form curled up in front of what was likely the main control panel, which was spattered with crimson. The form seemed to be breathing but otherwise motionless. Quickly, he ran back out into the cargo bay, pulled on an isloation suit and ran back inside, then knelt down and picked up the strangely-shaped alien and gingerly carried it out.

When he got the creature out into the light of the cargo bay, confusion set in. It was reptilian, certainly, with scales that bore a smooth pattern of light brown coloration. And judging by the firm medium-sized breasts that lay beneath swaths of dark-blue fabric, it also apparently female- which made the alien an oddity. He didn't know of any reptilian species with breasts; with five of the six in the Rimworld Alliance, the only cues as to gender were usually size and coloration- and the sixth was hermaphroditic, so it didn't matter either way. So what I've got here is a species that isn't a member of the Alliance, he mused, as he carefully brought her to the medical beds. Which one, though? And is it hostile? Hell, I'll worry about that later... first let's get the lady here into one of the beds and start getting her bleeding under control.

Finally, he got the unconscious alien into the medical bay and set her down on the first bed. As he did so, he realized why the creature's body had felt so unbalanced- below the waist, which was covered in more of the satiny blue material, was a long serpentine tail that was more than half again as long as her torso. He was surprised that he hadn't stepped on it at all; the creature must have unconsciously kept it away from his feet. He did his best to lay the tail comfortably next to her on the bed, then went to the unit's control panel and initiated a scan.

That's interesting... endothermic? Body temperature 35.7, heartrate 55 bpm, breathing at 10 breaths per minute... one hell of a concussion, hairline fracture of the skull and just a little cerebral swelling. Looks like she's venomous as well- not deadly, but a bite wouldn't be pleasant. He hit a few panels on the display to initiate a more detailed diagnostic. Fair amount of blood loss, but nothing major. Biotics scan shows no threatening bloodborne pathogens. Blood pressure 75 over 50. Microscopic scarring on the lungs from breathing smoke- I probably have a little of that myself- and assorted bruises and lumps. Oh, and she's definitely a female.... He chuckled to himself as he finished the diagnostic and instructed the computer to supply only basic, blood-compatible amino acids, as well as a supply of nanites to repair the most serious injuries. Without knowing more about exactly what she was and how her body's systems worked, doing anything more could be more harmful than helpful.

Yeah. Speaking of knowing more about her....

He shucked the isolation suit, dumped it into a laundry chute, went to one of the wall terminals and logged onto SubspaceNet. He brought up the search engine Pico and typed in a few innocuous words to try to pin down what species his new acquaintance was; he didn't want to use anything that might set off one of the Alliance Security Bureau's bots... at least not until he had a better idea of what he was dealing with. As he ran the search, he pulled up a sub-window and kept an eye on his "guest"'s condition, watching as it slowly but steadily improved thanks to the careful work of the medical nanites.

It took some searching- apparently the local SubspaceNet nodes were running slow- but eventually he came upon a fifty-year-old news article that had both a species name and a picture. At a glance, he knew exactly what the injured snake-woman in his medical bay was- a Kryyjh, a member of a species that hadn't publicly had relations with the Rimworld Alliance since the article had been published. So the question poses itself, he thought, what is this particular Kryyjh doing here, being chased by 'mechs in a sector of space that seems to be about six hundred light-years from her government's nearest known border world?

A soft moan came from the medical bay, and he turned. Well, I could always ask her....

He went back to the bed, relieved to see that the cut on her head had healed completely. With the touch of a panel, he ordered the nanites to dissolve themselves into her bloodstream completely, shut down the diagnostics and waited for her to regain consciousness on her own. As he watched her stir, he found himself awed by the movements of her neck, and by the flexible hood he hadn't seen before, that lined the back of it from shoulders to skull.

Finally, the lidless amber eyes began to move, and the slitted pupils opened. The viper shook her head slowly, seeming to get her bearings, then finally became aware of his presence... and froze.

--

She'd thought she was doomed when the 'mechs had hit her that fourth time... at least, until the explosion of the pod's secondary stabilizer had sent her head into the control panel yet again. After that she hadn't been doing any thinking at all. And yet now, she found herself alive, at least somewhat healed... and staring up at a naked-skinned mammal standing over her in the surroundings of a completely unfamiliar place.

Instinct commanded her to strike, fangs out and venom ready. Training and reason restrained instinct; if this alien had wanted to harm her, it would have very likely done so while she'd been unconscious. And she certainly felt quite a bit better than she had before. It watched her with strange, brown-irised eyes as she slowly found her balance and sat up, rubbing her head gingerly. "So...." she murmured in GalCom2. "I take it you heard my distress call?"

"I did." Its accent was terrible, but that it could speak the same language at all was rather surprising. "You can understand GalCom1?"

"Fairly well. Speak it if it's more comfortable for you."

It raised and lowered its head slightly, some sort of affirmative motion. "Alright, then," he said, the other language obviously more comfortable for him. "The biomechs are dealt with. I towed your ship aboard... it's heavily damaged but recoverable. This ship is the Shadowdancer, a salvage and cargo ship. My name is Kyle. Kyle Aragones."

Personal name first, family name second. Interesting. "My name... is Ashiya," she replied. "I'm indebted to you for your help... Kyle. But I can't stay here."

"I don't intend to stop you, but your ship is in no condition to go anywhere. I would offer to take you where you intend to go, but I'm assuming that might not meet with your approval."

"So you know what I am, then."

"A Kryyjh, yes. And you can imagine that your being here brings up all sorts of questions, but I'll refrain from asking them."

"That's also appreciated." She sighed, rubbing the back of her head. At least my headache is gone, so I can think clearly, she mused. "Well... Kyle. This is probably going to sound like an odd question, and I mean no offense... but you are male, correct?"

He made an odd barking sound that she decided must be laughter. "Last time I checked, yes," he said. "So, Ashiya... forgive me if I say that wrong. I'm at a bit of a loss as to what I'm supposed to do with you. I was going to bring you to the nearest station in case you had any critical injuries, but since it seems you'll be alright, I think it'd be better if I didn't let them know I picked you up. I understand that you ended up out here because the damn 'mechs are everywhere you don't want them to be, but some government officials might think there's more to it than that."

"Interrogation makes me grumpy." She was surprised when he laughed at the offhanded joke; her disposition towards him warmed a bit more. He seems like a decent sort, she thought. Still, I need to get out of this sector... no sense putting him or myself at risk from the local government. "Is there any way possible to repair my pod?" she asked. "I imagine the damage is somewhat extensive, but it would be easiest if I could simply get it back into working order and continue to where I was going."

He shook his head from side to side, apparently a negative. "Not with the materials I have on board. The pod took too much structural and electronic damage. Never mind the facts that I have zero experience with your electronics systems, and the power systems the pod uses are completely incompatible with this ship's."

"The technical skill isn't a problem. Let's just say... that I have some training." She slowly got into a standing position, finding that at her full height the mammal only came up to her shoulder; she hunched somewhat, not wanting to intimidate him. "I need your help, though. You have experience in salvage- if you can get me components close enough to what my pod requires, I can rig it together well enough to get the ship functional. I... I don't have anything I can give you to pay for doing so, except my gratitude. But I have no other way of getting to where I need to go."

She watched him consider. She knew she was asking a lot of him; she had no idea what penalties he might suffer if he was found to be harboring a member of an interstellar government that his own might see as potentially hostile. From what she had heard, the Rimworld Alliance was extremely distrustful of those not inside its sphere of influence- though those sources were far from impartial themselves.

After a moment, he shrugged. "If I can help, I will," he said. "Though the chances of getting the right parts from salvage is pretty slim. I do have a different idea, though, if you're agreeable."

She felt her hood raise just a little in suspicion, but she did her best to squash the feeling. "What is it?" she asked.

"There's a serpentine species in the Alliance, called the Isshak, that isn't terribly different from yours, though they are true reptiles- ectothermic, and they don't have... those." She wanted to chuckle when she caught him glancing at her chest. "They're also colored differently, and aren't venomous. But I think that with a little careful disguising, you could pass as an Isshak well enough to play the role of my temporary co-pilot." His lips curled up in a smile- an amazingly readable expression. "What do you think?"

"What about documentation? Doesn't your government check identity at ports?"

"The Isshak are a relatively new addition to the Alliance, and they have refugee status because an asteroid did a real number on their homeworld. I can simply claim you're an experienced spacer whose ship and paperwork never made it out of the impact. There's a lot of sympathy going around for the Isshak right now, so we shouldn't run into much difficulty playing that card long enough to get your ship repaired."

Walking around disguised as a member of a different species didn't much appeal to her sense of honor... but Abyss claim me, I can't come up with anything remotely as practical, she admitted to herself. With an inward sigh, she copied his affirmative head-motion. "Alright, then," she said quietly. "And... thank you. I haven't known many people who would help a stranger as much as you have."

"I likely wouldn't be here today if I hadn't gotten that same sort of help." He shrugged his shoulders. "Computer, reduce velocity to half of maximum translight speed," he called out; a soft beep came out of hidden speakers. "I think we can go easy on the speed for the time being," he continued to her. "In the meantime, is there anything you need? Any kind of... errr, biological needs you need to take care of?"

This time, she couldn't help but laugh, raising a hand when he took a tenative step backwards. Apparently the soft hissing sound she made worried him. "I apologize," she told him. "I just can't help but find the way you ask such things humorous. As of right now all I need is food and water."

"Alright. Are you a carnivore? I have frozen raw meat that won't take long to thaw."

She reared back slightly in surprise. "Actually, I am, yes," she replied. "You're an omnivore, I'm assuming? Why would you keep raw meat? I'd expect prepared food to be more economical on a ship that travels extensively."

"True, but you're not the only carnivore I've had to feed."

"Ah, I see." As he led her to wherever he ate on the ship, she took a good look around. The lighting was brighter than was really comfortable for her, but she could compensate well enough. She also found the smell agreeable enough; somewhat surprising, as she'd always been told that most mammals stank of sweat or dander. Either this particular one was absolutely fastidious, or she had burst another preconception; she figured on the latter. I need to watch myself on that, she thought. Preconceptions could literally be my death in this situation.

It didn't take him long at all to thaw out a few pieces of meat for her. He set them on a plate and placed it on a table next to a half-eaten fruit of some sort, which he picked up and bit into. She found a comfortable position on one of the chairs next to the table. "You won't have a problem watching me eat?" she questioned.

"I should have asked you that, actually." He smiled. "Like I said, you're not the first carnivore I've had to feed. Besides, you can't be as bad as a couple of the insectoid species. External digestion isn't pleasant for anyone."

"Gruh." She shook her head. "Don't make me start having second thoughts about posing as your co-pilot." She picked up a piece of the meat- tender and still blood-raw, just how she liked it- and gulped it down. Another followed, and then three more in rapid succession. I didn't realize just how hungry I was, she thought, letting loose a soft belch as her stomach took down the meal. She took an offered glass of water and drained it quickly. "I figured you'd need the food and water," he said. "Your body needs to recuperate from the accelerated healing. There's spare quarters if you want to rest for a while. We won't be due to dock for another ten or so hours."

"That sounds acceptable." She paused a moment. "Do you have a terminal in there that can display in GalCom2? I'd like to read up on some things to help me play this little charade."

"There's one in there, yes. There should be a touchpad button at the intro screen to switch to GalCom2. I doubt I have access to anything your government couldn't get at, so have fun."

He showed her to the quarters, which had a rather comfortable-looking bed with a display panel hooked onto a swivel arm. He showed her where the intercom and the control for the lights were and how they worked, as well as the location of "the facilities", as he put it. "I'll buzz before I open the door," he told her, before heading out.

By the time she even thought to thank him, the door had already closed. She leaned against the bed and sighed. Well, she told herself. The latest in a very strange series of events in your life, hm, "Ashiya"? Now you've gone and dragged some unknowing alien into your problems. Fate provide he doesn't have to tolerate your presence long enough for anyone to realize who and what you really are. She unwound her sarong from her body, letting out a little sigh of relief as her breasts fell free of the fabric. And you two are another part of the problem, aren't you? She gazed down at them, cupping them in her hands. Or should I say, what you won't be doing is part of the problem.... She slithered her way into the remarkably soft and welcoming bed, pulling a thin blanket up over herself before swivelling the display panel to sit just above her chest and setting it to display in GalCom2. There was a "guest" login, so she chose that, and found several options available to her; she chose the search engine, and plugged in the name of the ship and that of her host.

There were only a few references, most of them also mentioning someone else; the only information she was given was a name- Fysher Paskharour. He'd said I was to pose as his temporary co-pilot, she remembered.Am I this Fysher's replacement? Hm. It's hardly a need-to-know item... but I am a bit curious.

She set that window aside and opened up a few more, bringing up some information on the Isshak species and situation, so that she could better play her role. She also looked up information on Humans- the species Ryan apparently belonged to- so that she could better know what to expect from him. She quickly scanned through the information, letting her mind absorb it for later reference. It wasn't long, though, before she found her vision blurring and her head drooping; the day had taken more out of her than she'd thought, and her body was demanding rest. She shut down the display, moved it aside and set the lighting to dim, then laid back against the pillows and allowed her pupils to shut. Sleep was very quick to claim her.

She might have hoped that she was too exhausted to dream, but her hindbrain had other ideas.

_"Come on, Ashiya." She felt his hands slide up along her back, moving to caress the base of her hood. Despite herself, she shivered. "You can truly make a male feel undesired sometimes. Don't I satisfy you?"

"You always have. I just... have a lot on my mind." She suppressed the urge to move away from him. "Even in season a female has to be 'there' mentally, you know. You can't tell me I shouldn't be stressed."

"There's 'stressed', and there's 'cold-blooded'." Those hands slid around to her front, untying the strings of her tunic. His tongue flicked across the back of her hood; she knew he was tasting for signs of arousal from her. "We do have an obligation to fulfill," he whispered into her ear. "One every mature Kryyjh has. Why not fulfill it with me?"

"I'd rather give the matter of who to allow to father my offspring more thought, Maknesh." She groaned softly as his hands slid underneath her tunic, cupping her breasts. His fingertips flicked aside the thin protective scales that covered her nipples, and began rubbing them in slow circles. Despite her reluctance, she felt her body respond; taking this as some sort of acquiesence, Maknesh slid one hand down her body, his clawtips scraping lightly across her scales before flicking across the seam of her entrance. She shuddered again, cursing her instincts._

I might as well just let him, she thought. At the very least it'll stop the insistence for a while... and give me more time to think of what to do next....

With that thought, she finally gave up her resistance, letting her body relax. "Perhaps offspring later," Maknesh chuckled. "But for now, we'll practice the part that comes before." She felt him slide one finger into her, opening the slit beneath its protective scales and parting wet flesh within....

...something was buzzing. She shook her head to clear the muzziness from it and sat up, her pupils opening slowly. The door was buzzing insistently. "Ashiya?" Kyle's voice came through a hidden speaker. "You awake in there? We dock in an hour."

"An hour...?" It took her a moment to remember what that meant- a unit of time. "Ugh... yes. Yes! I'm awake. Just a moment please." She slid out of bed, found her clothing and quickly wrapped it around herself, trying to make herself look presentable. She slithered her way to the door and opened it, finding the Human standing before it holding a large bag. "What's in there?" she inquired.

"Your disguise."

--

She must've been tired to sleep for almost nine hours. At least, I suppose. Assuming Kryyjh don't just naturally sleep that long, anyway....

His head was going to hurt if he kept at wondering about her. He had little information on her species and no real way of finding any, shy of either running a search that would set off every monitor program the ASB ran, or asking Ashiya rather pointed questions that she would probably not want to answer. And despite the fact that she was competely dependent on him right now, deep-seated human instinct warned him not to piss off a large, venomous snake. All he had to go on was his knowledge of other reptilian species and some guesswork.

Well, I did get to know a couple of female reptiles fairly well, he chuckled to himself. I doubt Ashiya would be interested in THAT sort of species-introduction fact-finding... though a serpent with breasts would definitely be an experience, hm? He shook his head. Never mind, Kyle, never mind. Not the sort of thing you need to be thinking about.

After a moment, the door opened, and the Kryyjh woman slithered out. A bottle of carbon-laced conduit insulation gel served as a scale darkener, and an old rain slicker and some robes were bulky enough to hide most of Ashiya's body. She looked for all the universe like some Isshak pilgrim fresh from what remained of their homeworld. "Not bad," he commented. "You'll want to say as little as possible while we're aboard the station, though. I'll say that you've lost your voice temporarily. We won't be staying long; I have contracts with a couple of vendors and I check with them for parts that I need. Just whisper to me if you see anything you might be able to use."

"Sounds good to me." She seemed to gather herself for a moment, inhaled, exhaled, then slouched over to make her profile less noticable. "Well," she said quietly. "Let's go ahead, then."