The shower took much longer now that she had longer fur. More fur for the soot to stick to. She had to shampoo twice. At least the Ketcher pattern hid the remaining shade of grey much better than her old white fur. After drying, her fur fluffed up, easily recharging itself in the too-dry air of the ship. Life support did not have enough time, it had only been restarted at midday.

She put on a new set of the four remaining identical cave-cat leather triangles and loincloths, then passed the higher-ups eating in the mess and went down to the workshop to secure everything properly.

She went back up through the mess and up the stairs to the crew quarters and further up to the cockpit. "The workshop is secured for flight. Can I go and eat now? This fur regrowth mod is really heavy."

Chatee smiled at her. "After fixing the galley, you should have been the first to eat. Anyway, we are still doing the slow vector change so they can sit at 0.5 g while we are wasting fuel. Go ahead, I'll follow soon, the ship can handle it alone."

When she returned to the mess, the old cat did not look at her. And so the others ignored her as well. She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, is there a seat available?"

It was a rhetorical question, for only four of the eight seats were taken.

The old cat turned to her for a moment, then looked back at her food. "This is only for the Ketcher Clan. Wait your turn with the others."

"Madam, I have repaired the galley and."

"Your fault it was broken. End of discussion."

She turned, head down, as Chatee came down the stairs. "Good evening, Clamother Fiyul, I am the first pilot. Welcome aboard our ship. And may I remind you that on a jump ship the pilot's words are the law. The only law, because without a pilot, you are dead. So, if a pilot asks for food, she gets it. And we would like to eat now.”

She walked down the last few steps and grabbed her hand. She followed the pull, overwhelmed by Catee's strong response.

"I'm done anyway," the clanmother said and stood up abruptly, unwilling to give in. Her plate was still well filled. "Come," she tugged the younger cat with the jewellery away, still chewing. "It's late anyway."

A maid came running. But only used to the planet's higher gravity, she toppled over as she tried to stop, barely avoiding bumping into the clanmother. Another maid walked more slowly to remove the plates. There was a hint of panic in the air.

The clanmother and her second disappeared into the first twin cabin, the younger cats still looking back at the table, ears down and tail hanging.

Chatee sat down and tore at her hand. "Sit," she whispered.

Her legs folded and she landed on an upholstered seat. A maid hurried to remove the half-full plates and half-empty cups and bring new dishes. Two other senior Ketcher cats were still sitting at the table, unsure how to react.

"Enjoy your meal," Chatee smiled at them and she copied it.

Then the chef came out of the galley to explain tonight's menu. She would have eaten steamed cardboard by now, so whatever the chef suggested sounded good. As long as it wasn't a 6-course meal of morcels.

But once again Chatee came to her rescue. "Sorry, we are in a bit of a hurry as we have to prepare the ship for the first jump. Indeed, everyone should eat well before a jump. I know this is against your honour, but perhaps you could put the bowls on the table and everyone could serve themselves? So please, get everyone to eat in the next 1000. We have to jump in about 1500.

This set off a flurry of activity in the galley, and soon there were eight cats sitting at the mess table and one eating on a side bench. The chef and her assistant were still in the galley, eating as they cleaned up and prepared for the jump.

She introduced herself to everyone at the table, trying to remember their names. The other two senior cats still at the table were doctors. One of them was fascinated by her hands and feet. She was mostly hungry and promised to meet them somewhere after the jump.

Chatee did not eat much and soon returned to the cockpit. But she was hungry, and she shoved food down her throat until she felt bloated. Too tired to talk to so many new faces, she bowed and thanked them for the food and then went up to the cockpit too.

"Thank you, Chatee."

Chatee turned. "You have to be tougher. Or they will treat you like their maid. Sorry for your first trip with such a difficult cargo." She winked.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"She is not the clanmother of my Ketcher tribe. And even if she is the highest-ranking Ketcher on the planet, the pilot's word is law on a ship, I didn't make it up. She is a ground-dweller, so I had to remind her. Better sooner than later."

"Ugh, thanks again. I couldn't have done it on my own. So where are we going?"

"That's a much better question. Look," she showed her the route. It was a long journey, four jumps, almost a quarter around the galaxy into an empty system.

She scratched her ear.

"You wonder why we are going there? Given our reserves at this point, I think we will rendezvous with another ship there and then jump back to replenish them. Because we are not going to drift, burning fuel all the time to stay above 0.5 g for twelve days!"

"Oh dear, all for the ground dwellers. Let's hope the fusion core is good for five jumps."

"Maybe you can dig up the exact specs, but I doubt that our engines are rated for twelve days of uninterrupted operation at 50% or up. We have to cycle them. There is not much we can do about the route. We could change the third transit system or jump a little closer to the limit to go through better populated regions. But we only have 12 days to get there. Well, probably 11 and a half as fast as we are going, so keep that in mind. Anyway, there really is no alternative to the first jump, the other jump windows are too far out for a 12 day journey."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I am not questioning your route. How about a stress test of fusion core II now, before the first jump. Cyclone, please power up core 2 to 110%."

"Rerra, ramping up."

Chatee looked at her questioningly. "I hope you know what you are doing."

"That's still 88% of the original specifications. I want to see the maximum temperatures reached after 1000. Another test we did not do but would have done before signing off a ship. And better to stress the core before the jump than risk a failure in 4D." Both shuddered. "After that, we can go to 75%, the main engines and coils should never need more."

"Ok, please try not to break it."

She grinned. "No intention, they would roast me at the shipyard."

"Only after the clanmother Fiyul had left them anything to roast. Ok, you have the cockpit. I will go around and patch the passengers." Chatee almost flowed out of the hammock and walked down the stairs with her elegant spring.

She climbed into the hammock and pushed her again bushy tail through the netting. "Cyclone, cooling status on screen 1." And then she looked at the route. She had not been able to assess her route that quickly when Chatee had called it up. Finding the best transient systems for multiple-jump trips was not something she had studied much beyond the basics. After all, she had expected her first interstellar jump to be a single jump to the destination, not this one. However, even with her limited knowledge, the selection of transient systems around each jump point looked very convincing. She could also follow Chatee's reasoning for their third transit. Good thing the Ketcher pilot was experienced. She was not sure if she could have cobbled together a route so quickly and with an arrival in 12 days.

The temperatures of the cooling systems were slowly creeping up. Still well below any cause for concern, even at 110%. After the route, she put the crew manifest on the third screen. It was not very complete, just names and weights. She would have to ask Chatee for more background information later. She found Fiyul, 49, and now she remembered the name from the boring genealogy class at Clarice. Fiyul, second tier clanmother, almost 40 years below the legendary Teresa, who was still leading the Ketcher clan at the age of 89. Hadn't there been a Ketcher girl from the Fiyul tribe at Clarice two years earlier? But only the faces of those who had bullied her showed up. Well, enough of these unpleasant memories and back to the ship: The temperature of the cooling loop had not even reached 480 K, and the heating rate was now below 10 K per 1000. Even Penny would call that a clean pass.

"Cyclone, reduce core 2 to 75% in preparation for jump. Increase core 1 to 66%, please."

"Yes, Rerra."

"And Cyclone, did you or Chatee decide on the route?"

"Rerra, this is usually a dialogue between the pilot and me. Do you want to go through the route?"

"Well, I mean, Cyclone, yes please, take me through the alternatives."

"Rerra, please look at screen 2." And the AI showed her their maximum jump range and the restrictions of staying above 0.5 g, or even better 0.75 g, as ordered by the clanmother. This greatly reduced their range and therefore her choices. The AI also explained why Chatee had chosen the current route; things like avoiding non-human systems or empty systems (in case their core or other things broke) had also been taken into account. Therefore, their route was neither the fastest nor the straightest. Which had made their rush to install the fusion core even more pointless. At least the core looked good so far.

* * *

Chatee returned from her round with almost 0150 left to the jump. "Now everyone is out. Did you know we even have a male on board?"

"A male?"

"Well, clanmother Fiyul from Ketcher travels in style. If there had been a bigger ship, I am sure she would have brought another 1000 cats with her. No matter. Now for the jump, do you want to stay here while I go to the cabin?"

"No, please, I will go to the cabin. I am too exhausted, it has been a very long day. Where do I get the patch?"

"Oh, you ask. Cyclone, a patch for Rerra."

"Rerra, for how long?"

"Uh, I don't know. I mean for the jump."

"Cyclone, I suggest adding 3000, since it is her first long jump."

"Rerra?"

"Cyclone, yes please."

A small compartment next to the pilot's hammock opened with the small plaster.

"You put it in your ear and," Catee began.

"I know that, thank you." She took the customised plaster from the dispenser, careful not to hold it too tightly. If she pricked the nanorods into her skin, she would fall asleep instantly. She rolled out of the hammock with a thud, still holding the patch very carefully. "The cockpit is all yours, and I would like to use the lower bunk because of my height."

"Yes, no problem. And no need to hurry, you still have 0127."

With everyone asleep, she took off the dreaded cave-cat leathers, put them in the zero-g net and went to the toilet, just in case. Then, back in the pilot's cabin, she curled up in her bed and waited for the jump warning. When it came, she stuck the plaster in her ear and had just enough time to lie down before she was out.

* * *

The awakening was abrupt; loud noises and bright lights tore her from her dreamless slumber. She opened her eyes, but her vision changed only slightly. The images made no sense, impossible geometric shapes intersecting at odd angles, rotating or jittering when she moved her head. The sound was just noise as if someone had played a thousand recordings of clattering fans, each at a slightly different speed, a cacophony of rattling from a low hum to the highest possible chirp, the volume changing with a beating pattern. Closing and opening her eyes only changed the shapes, nothing more. Panic began to set in as she suddenly found herself lying in her bunk in the pilot's cabin.

"Cyclone, status?"

"Just out of 4D, Krschgits system, the relative position is still being refined. No major problems, cores and engines are nominal. Rerra, did you wake up too early?"

"So that was 4D."

"Is that a command?"

"Cyclone, no, everything is fine." It was not true, she was still shaking. Heck, she should tell the AI. "And yes, Cyclone, I woke up early. No harm done."

"Rerra, I am sorry that I have underestimated your metabolism. I will add more margin next time."

"Cyclone, is anyone else awake?"

"No, just you."

She shook her head again and peeled the spent plaster from her ear. Ouch, it still stung the fine fur on the inside of her ear. Well, she would soon have a spacer's bald inner ear.

Now fully awake, she noticed that her fur had grown even denser than her old coat. There was no hint of her muscles at all. But first, she went to the bathroom, walking on her still sleepy legs. After the toilet, she brushed herself in the shower, removing a lot of fur. Now she was ready.

She went back to her cabin, put on the stupid loincloth and breast triangle and went up to the cockpit. Chatee was still lying motionless in the pilot's hammock. She carefully peeled off her patch, noting the bald spot in her left ear, the trademark of an experienced spacer.

Chatee awoke moments later, confused only for a moment. "Cyclone, status."

"Chatee, welcome back. We are in the Krschgits system and are about 20% closer to the centre, which means 7000 less run-up before the next jump. The current estimate is one day and 4078. Essential systems nominal, coils at 271%, cores cooling to 50% power on both."

"Cyclone, confirm course for run-up." Only then did she notice her. "So, Rerra, you woke up before me."

"I woke up in 4D, it seems."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Well, it has happened to most of us, but usually not on the first jump. It must have been scary."

"Scary? Quite strange, hard to describe, but certainly noisy, bright and, yes, strange. How many times have you woken up in 4D?"

"Me? Only once, and only for a few moments before returning to 3D. Not even enough time to remember much. Being so close to the average cat, the patch is timed right almost all the time."

"Yes, also easier to find clothes in the right size."

"Sorry, that shouldn't have been judgmental."

"Eh, well, I know what you mean. So, shall we go through the cabins and wake everyone up?"

"I would suggest waking the chef and a few other servants. They could decide who to wake up next and then have up to 3000 to prepare for the awakening of the seniors. Here, the cockpit is yours."

"Thanks, waking the chef sounds good. I am hungry."

"Me too. Our bodies have been hibernating for almost two full days, you should be hungry. So am I. Well, off to the chef."