She ran out of the shipyard and along the innermost deck to the counterside, then paced nervously in front of the lift. It was already 9470, she had no time to shower. Her fur reeked of sweat and rubber from the radiation suit, and her hands contributed a chemical stink, a mixture of auto-shrinking insulation tubing and contact spray with a dash of flame retardant. Her mind was still on the job. Had she connected everything correctly? Had she not forgotten something despite triple-checking?
The address she had been given was in the posh part of the counterside, on deck two, almost exactly one deck below the Petra den. She would have liked to get there first to change, but she was really late.
As soon as people entered the lift on its way to the outward decks, she could feel them staring at her. Not because of her lack of paws or her short fur, which was hard to see in her long work clothes. No, she stood out at night. They had come to celebrate the night and forget the day. And she reminded them of manual labour, even her smell. They were high tier but reeked of overused expensive perfumes, drugs and copulation.
Finally, the car stopped on deck two. She almost jumped out, turned left and froze.
The Ketcher clan ran the health and beauty services. This included control of the suppressants, the key that had made them the second ruling clan. Now they controlled practically everything the Samul clan did not. So, of course, she had expected something big. But the pink of the Ketcher Beauty Clinic stretched as far as she could see on either side of the wide, upwardly curving corridor of deck two. It must cover at least an eighth of the station's circumference.
And now an ex-Samul Petra clan member came to get the Ketcher fur pattern. She was worried, despite Trina's assurances. Even if Samul and Ketcher fought each other, they would join forces against an outside clan like Petra.
"Hello dear, are you by any chance the pilot?" A larger-than-life ocelot cat looked down at her. She was scantily clad in a pink top and pink miniskirt, with more pink ribbons around her wrists and shoulders. She even had pink ear tufts.
She blinked twice seeing blue complement colors, "Er, yes, Rerra from Petra."
"Great, Rerra, we've been expecting you. Please follow me!"
She walked to the next entrance, which looked more like a brothel from the dramas, with its pink facade and heart-shaped gate. Two other gorgeous hostesses in Ketcher double-ringed ocelot fur pattern were standing at a counter, waiting for any late arrivals. One came for her: "Welcome, Rerra from Petra. You are booked for a treatment."
She felt even more out of place. "Yes, a fur makeover," she almost whispered, "already paid for, I think by - I don't really know."
"Yes, no problem, in fact it was," she stopped, her ears flicking back and her eyes widening, "paid for by Clanmother Fiyul." Her perfect smile widened, flashing all her perfect teeth. "Please excuse our rough reception. I am very sorry to bother you further, but we need full biometric consent."
She was not sure what had happened. Apparently, Clanmother Fiyul was someone very important in the Ketcher clan. She dimly remembered hearing the name on the news a few days ago. But she had forgotten the context. "Er, how?"
"Please leave this to us and be so kind as not to move for a moment. Thank you, there is just one final request, to synchronise this with your pad?"
She fumbled her battered pad out of her pocket and handed it over, her fingers trembling. Something strange was about to happen. Full biometrics?
"Thank you, Madam Rerra from Petra."
"If madam would follow me, please," the first hostess also addressed her very politely. Being a VIP was quite a change from being the grunt in the lift. In her tired state, it only added to her confusion. She followed the first hostess closely, her big bushy tail almost at her chest height, just a hand's breadth from her snout. Distracted, she almost bumped into her as she stopped in front of an open door.
"I'm so sorry, Madam Rerra," the hostess smiled, "please go inside where your doctor is waiting."
"Thank you, um." Well, she didn't know the name, so she bowed and hurried inside.
"Good evening, Miss Rerra from Petra," the cat said inside and only then looked up. "Oh!"
She looked behind her, but the door was already closed.
"Er, good evening," she stammered.
"Welcome, Miss Rerra. I am Greta, I will be your personal doctor for this evening," the ocelot-furred cat said with a half-hearted smile that was betrayed by her tired voice. The doctor was only a head taller than her, and an ordinary beauty compared to the larger-than-life hostesses. She did not look so young either, closer to 40. "To begin, I would like you to step into the scanner." She pointed to the machine beside her.
"Shall I take off everything?"
The doctor's smile remained firm. "That is up to you. All your images will be sealed with your medical record and locked with your biometrics. The scanner is not affected by your clothing. However, you will need to remove everything for the pod later."
Well, her clothes were filthy anyway, so she undressed and stood on the mark. "Sorry, would you mind telling me what pod means?"
"In a moment. For now, I would ask you to stand still."
The circles of the scanner began to rotate around her and stopped. "Thank you, your scan is complete. As for your question, it should have been explained before. You are booked for a full body skin mod. After that, your fur will grow back permanently in the Ketcher pattern."
"A mod? Permanently?" Even in her dead tired state, the few working brain cells of the night shift sounded an alarm. She had expected a permanent dye or something.
"Didn't anyone tell you?" She took a deep breath. "I must apologise that there was no proper explanation. A mod is short for genetic modification. You have signed up for a treatment that will change the outer layer of your skin cells. Your skin will change colour and transfer that colour to your fur. The exact pattern is random, but it will be a Ketcher pattern."
"Er, you mean this is not just a permanent dye?"
"No, your old skin will be replaced by a new skin with a different DNA. From this new skin, your new fur will grow with the new pattern. But the change is only skin deep, literally." The doctor had used this play on words so many times that her boring delivery killed it. "Your children will not inherit it."
"Can it be changed again?"
"Yes, as often as you like. Well, I would advise at least a quarter of a year between two mods," the doctor continued, "We can also alter the density and length of the new fur. Please wait while the system processes your genes. May I ask how it is that a member of a Petra clan gets our pattern?"
She curled her tail. Why not? "I'm a jump pilot for a special mission where no pilots outside of Ketcher were allowed. It is paid for by Clanmother Fiyul, I was told," she replied.
The doctor's smile remained firm as she lowered her pad in surprise, her tail flicking. "From the clanmother, well, and the special mission was an easy guess with your strength."
So maybe the VIP treatment would get her more extras. "So when the mission is over, can I go back?"
"It's not permanent, as it does not affect your entire body's DNA. So another skin stripper mod could replace it with your original skin. For that purpose, we keep the original skin sample in cryogenic storage for 10 years." The doctor lowered the pad and looked her in the eyes. "To be honest, the treatment is extremely expensive. There are only three such pods, one here and two on the planet. All the consumables are imported. There are very few people who can afford such treatment. Your best bet would be to ask the clanmother. And who am I to know the clanmother's plans?"
She remained silent, not knowing what to say. So it was not permanent. Just expensive to remove.
The doctor looked at her pad again and then almost whispered, "Since your booking is a carte blanche, Miss Rerra, you know that breasts are also soft tissue and susceptible to the skin mod. If you wish, we can also increase your breasts a little."
She was surprised and thought about it for a moment. It would be nice not to be mistaken for a male from a distance. But then, in the narrow ducts ... "No, I think I like them as they are."
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The doctor nodded. "It is refreshing to see a cat not unhappy with her body."
"Er, no, I would really like to have normal paws on my feet and four fingers and longer fur and be a bit taller," she took a deep breath.
"Sorry, such deep changes are not possible with a skin mod. In fact, I think there is only one medical mod on the planet that might give you normal paws. However, I can help you to hide the feet with a much longer fur on the lower legs. How about that?"
She nodded strongly. "That's a good idea, thank you."
"And you mentioned that you wanted a bit longer fur in general. How about mine?" She held up her own fur, about half a finger's length.
"Yes, please," she smiled. Longer fur! "Can you also pad the soles of my feet?"
"That should be possible with the skin mod. A challenge," the doctor smiled, typing and scrolling on her pad. "Hm, it is possible to make the foundations thicker. But a word of caution, the new paw pads and the new fur will not be fully grown, 4000 in the pod will not nearly be enough. Your fur will grow faster over the next two or three days, we will give you medicine to help. But tomorrow morning, you will have even shorter fur than you have now."
"Why?"
"Because first we have to remove your old skin cells," the doctor said, still smiling professionally, "while the mod is integrated into your DNA and the sequences are prepared. Please follow."
She walked over to a bunk that had opened up at the side of the room. A 3D animation of her new appearance rotated above it. The long fur looked so good, especially on the lower leg where in covered her feet. Only the pattern was strange. "To conclude, I ask your approval for a Ketcher fur pattern, longer fur, much longer on the lower legs, and thicker padded soles as shown here. The actual pattern may be slightly different though."
She took a deep breath. "Yes, I agree." The price to be paid for space travel and longer fur. And she could get a Petra pattern when she returned.
"Thank you." The light in the bunk came on, revealing a green surface inside. "This is the skin stripper mod chamber. Since the genetic mods only add, your old skin will be removed first. No need to worry. You will feel nothing and just have a deep relaxing sleep. When you wake up, you will have the foundations for your new skin, fur coat and pads. And we will have your clothes washed too."
She dropped her tail for a moment, embarrassed. "I came here on short notice."
"No problem, Miss Rerra, it's all part of our service." The doctor was still standing beside the open pod, smiling.
She hesitated. After this, she would be mistaken for Ketcher. Okay, she did not look like Petra now either. She nodded to herself. She would still be the small, strong Rerra from Petra. Only with a bit more dots. And nicer fur, not too high a price to pay for space travel. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Should I lie on my back?"
"Just find a comfortable position inside."
She lay down on the thin green mattress. A mouthpiece dangled above her.
The doctor pulled the mouthpiece down. "Here, this should fit you. Please bite on it. Make sure it doesn't leak."
She opened her snout and the long mouthpiece fitted perfectly. She nodded.
"Now I must plug your nose. Please do not remove it." The doctor inserted two deep stubs into her nostrils, sealing the tip of her nose airtight. The doctor carried out a few more tests as she became very drowsy and sank into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
A bright light shone in her face while soft but annoying music played and a melodious voice said: "Miss Rerra from Petra, please get up!
She was still sleepy and her whole body was itching like crazy, except for the tip of her snout. As she continued to wake up, she realised that she was still breathing through the mouthpiece. She spat it out, removed the plug from her nostrils with her hands and then froze. Her arms looked so different. Her fur was very short, almost invisible, and her skin was pink and raw with spots, the black-ringed yellow spots of the Ketcher ocelot pattern. It was both terrifying and fascinating.
"Hello, Miss Rerra," another voice said. She turned her head slowly to the side. In front of the opening was an ocelot cat. Was it the doctor from before? No, one of the larger-than-life hostesses, smiling.
She sat up and shivered with the slightly wet, raw skin and stubby fur. Her feet felt heavier, yes, she had asked for thicker sole pads. Then she turned her head: Sad was the only word to describe the sorry state of her once fluffy tail. Now there was only a slender pink spotted appendage. She smelled strange too.
"Miss Rerra, I strongly suggest a shower to wash off any residue from the pods."
She nodded. A shower sounded good. When she tried to stand, she almost fell. Her soles were thicker now but not very even. She felt very weak as if her whole body had fallen asleep.
The hostess held her up, gently but firmly, and led her to a bathroom with a shower and a bench. She turned on the water and closed the outer door.
The hot water got her circulation going and drove the fatigue out of her legs. She stood up again, now steady. The hot water almost stung her raw skin. She shampooed her fur stubbles with the special lotion on the shelf, feeling better by the moment. She would have liked to stay longer, but new fur or not, there was work to be done.
"Miss Rerra, are you all right? I put the clothes on the bench outside."
Without fur, drying was finished in no time. She opened the curtain and took up her clean clothes, thankful that she came yesterday with long-sleeved shirt and long trousers. Then she saw her pad flashing, requiring a full biometric scan to renew her basic entry in the database. Still naked, she held it up and soon saw a spinning tiny ocelot-patterned Rerra figurine on the pad. She quickly dressed but tucked her tail into a trouser leg. There was no way she was going to expose that embarrassing thin pink sausage. She opened the outer door.
"Very nice, Miss Rerra. Rest assured, your fur will be fully regrown within three days. If there are any problems or irregularities, do not hesitate to return and benefit from our full satisfaction guarantee. The accelerated regrowth of your fur is very demanding on your body. To support the growth, please eat plenty of meat." The hostess spoke like a robot, just going through her usual script. She would not be able to return soon. If everything went to plan, she would be off the station from tonight. So she only listened with one ear.
Her attention returned when the hostess handed her a small bag and made eye contact. "Here are pills to help with the regrowth, one per meal for the next four days. Please also take these amino supplement candies." A much larger bag. 'For a shiny, long coat,' the purple packet promised. The cat on the box reminded her of Eli with her hand-length fur. "Eat as many as you like," the hostess continued, "just listen to your body. Again, eat plenty and remember to take one tablet per meal for the next four days. This will also reduce the itching. With that" And then the hostess hesitated, looking at her checklist. Something unexpected. "There is one last thing. Here is a private sealed package for you, Miss Rerra," she hid her surprise and pointed to the bench where a larger sealed package lay.
She took the sealed package. 'Only for K. from P. Open in a private setting' was written in large letters. Now she really did feel like an undercover spy in a drama, with new fur, a still fresh Petra identity, a provisional class C licence soon, and now possibly secret instructions in that sealed package.
"There would be a complimentary lunch composed to support your regrowth", the hostess began.
"Lunch?" she interrupted her and looked at her pad. 5200 already! "No, I have to go."
"I see, but make sure you eat well and often. Please walk slowly."
Walking was still different, her thicker soles making her steps softer and wobblier. But her strength was back, and the itching overwhelmed most other sensations anyway, with the exception of the cramped tail in her trouser leg.
The hostess walked slowly beside her, matching her pace.
After a few steps, she had gotten used to the soles and soon they were arrived at the reception. She had to do another full biometric identification to confirm the treatment and then she was released.
She had spent almost 5000 in the clinic, sleeping and getting a makeover, while her co-workers had probably pulled an all-nighter to get the ship ready. This was very much against her work ethic. But she had her personal punishment: With every step, her clothes rubbed against her bare, itchy skin. The worst was the tail. There was nothing she could do, except to wait for the new fur to grow. And eat a lot.
Unlike last night, the corridor was crowded. A lot of office workers and higher-ups were coming back from lunch and entering the clinic through more inconspicuous side doors.
She didn't want to wait for the lift, the stairs were close by. They were empty, but still reeked of urine, sex and drugs. One floor up was short enough not to bother her as there were no puddles. And then she was standing in front of the Petra den. The biometrics no longer recognised her, so she spoke the passphrase and the door opened.
"Eli," Kit called from the kitchen, "the order for"
"It's me, Rerra," she called back.
Kit was immediately at the entrance, towel in hand, and froze. "Rerra what? Has there been an accident?"
"Sorry, I'll explain in a minute. Have you had lunch already?"
"I was just loading the trolley."
"Then I'll help and tell everyone at lunch."
Kit nodded and they walked back into the kitchen. "There must be quite a story behind this."
"Sorry, yes there is. Just be patient."
She took the plates out.
"Not so many, it's only for eight. Everyone else is at work or school."
She returned the extra plates and took out the right number of bowls. "How many kittens?"
"Three," Kit replied as she arranged the food. Then Kit opened the door to the den while she pushed the trolley. The three youngest kittens raced to the door, then stopped in surprise, expecting only food, not a new guest. They stood confused, sniffing at a half-old, half-new scent.
She bowed. "Greetings, Clanmother."
The clanmother looked up. "Rerra, you have changed your fur."
Now the kits called "Rerra" and charged at her, still sniffing.
"Shh!" the clanmother scolded the kittens. They were running around her feet.
She nodded again. "Many unexpected developments. As you can see, I have been given a new fur pattern in preparation for a new job. I will have a test jump and then get a C licence. Then I will be the second pilot on a jump ship leaving tonight."
"No," cried a kitten.
"Shh!" the clanmother silenced the kitten again.
"But I must wear the Ketcher pattern." She took off her sweater and trousers, and there was a loud gasp. Only the kittens jumped playfully at the new spots on her legs. It hurt with the short fur. But she let them have their fun. She would be away for a while from tonight.
"Dear Rerra, it was your dream to become a pilot. I am a little sad that you had to lose your fur for it."
"Clanmother, I wish I could have kept it. This flight is very secret, all for someone from Ketcher, someone high up on the planet."
The clanmother nodded. "Be careful then, Ketcher is in turmoil at the moment." She sighed. "It will take time to get used to your new colours. But the fur is not important, only the person in it."
"And that has not changed, rest assured," she smiled.
"Ah, the Patingo!" Kit shouted, running back into the kitchen, from which a faint smell of burning wafted into the den.
"Are you staying for lunch?"
"Yes, it will be our last meal together for a while."
"No," cried the kittens.
"Do you know when you will be back?"
"No, very secret, I have no idea where we are going."
"Well, kittens, get your plates," Kit called as she entered again from the kitchen.
The kittens' attention shifted in an instant, and they quickly filled their plates and thanked the clanmother.
The adults were next. She was still eating fast, she was starving. And she had to get back to the shipyards, after packing some clothes for the journey.