UNWELCOME ATTENTION

by Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Nola struggled through the tight passage, twisting her hips as she eased slowly to an opening provided by a dirty grating. Looking out she saw Bob studying a viewscreen, the stripped down frame of an in-systems racer behind him. Quietly twisting herself further she brought the camera to her eye, quickly snapping a holo of the working Ursanoid. Bob's head went up at the tiny sound, searching for Nola's hiding place. "Okay kitty, which duct are you at this time" he yelled.

She banged the grating, getting his attention. Picking up a driver he walked over, squatting down to look in. "Ought ta' leave you in there kitty" he taunted. Nola stuck her tongue out, eliciting a gruff laugh from the huge male. In a few minutes she was standing again, brushing dust off her skinsuit.

"That's five ways from Bridge to here" she commented, catching the damp towel Bob tossed at her and wiping her thin covering as clean as she could. "I'm pretty sure it's last viable path, I'll have to set micro-cams as soon as we can afford more."

Bob laughed again as he re-sealed the grate, a deep throated rumble that sent tingles through the lynx's bare toes. "You sure take that 'Security Chief' job seriously" he commented. "It's not like we're a warship or anything, even after this toy of yours is ready." He tapped a key and a miniature copy of the skeleton behind him appeared in the air between them. "If we're going to mount those two old miniguns like you want I'm gonna hafta do a lot of reinforcing of the wings."

Nola walked over, leaning against the huge engineer as she studied the holo. "Let me see next.. next step" she asked. Even after four long months of intensive sleep training, two worlds and almost ceaseless practice, she still had problems with some concepts. Secretly, Bob was certain she always would. Keying in the request filled the holo with more lines. Pressure lines, armored cable carriers, optical links and such. Nola touched the trackball, spinning the holo around as she studied every angle. "Mount them against fuselage near wing root, probably at thirty degree angle" she decided. "Less mass to add, but we'll still need reinforce the wings."

Bob spoke through his remote to the computer and moments later the two large pods shifted, a warning buzzer sounded as both pods flashed red. "Need more space" Bob decided as he studied the indicated areas. "How about we shift those Hi-pressure helium lines to above the pod mounts?" Nola stuck her head next to Bobs, thinking. Her strange scent filled his nostrils, causing him to blink. 'Sor-ta like sniffin pepper an' sandlewood' he thought. "One above, other below." Nola decided. "Less mass displacement, balanced." Bob nodded, speaking to the computer again. Seconds later the holo was clean again.

"Why didn't you take up ship design" he asked as the new design was stored. "It'd take me a month to get where we are now and your only doing it part time."

Nola laughed, tossing the still damp towel at the bear. "It's Neeki's program, we don't... didn't have anything this good available." Still laughing she headed towards her quarters. It had been pure luck Betty turned out to be a hack writer. Taking Nola's 'war stories' as a bases she'd created a novel in less than two months. While they were downside, she'd not only managed to sell the novel, but movie rights and an advance on the next 'collection of fiction' as well. Nola's half of the sales had purchased a retired two seater system racer, some antique military gear and a refit of her quarters. She'd also picked up a case of outdated micro-cameras and two command consoles. As soon as she cleaned up, she'd be on the Bridge completing the wiring of the first system.

Two hours later, in a clean freshly pressed uniform she stepped on the Bridge. "Permission to enter" she asked, snapping to attention, her right hand hard against her heart.

Leo turned, nodding. He'd long given up trying to break her of the habit, returning her salute with one of his own. "Granted" he answered, sitting back to watch. True, Neeki still flinched as Nola walked past her, but overall the Lynx's professional attitude had begun to rub off on the rest. 'Damn race, must have been madness to have to fight them' he thought. 'Still this one's friendly enough.'

Nola set her toolbox on the deck, rapidly running through the active systems making checks anyone on the ship could tell her were unneeded. Still, the make-work was helping her adjust and everyone on-board tactually admitted that, between rebuilding the racer and her bridge work, it was the best therapy they could think of. Satisfied with her checks she dropped to the deck, released an access panel, and began to work.

Three months later they were approaching Herngoth System. Test flights of Nola's tiny ship had worked most of the bugs out but she still wasn't happy with the stealth coating. Still unnamed, it sat fully fueled and loaded for a planned combat drill in the morning, it's brilliant metallic purple and electric blue paint job gleamed in the converted cargo-bays lamps. Betty and Bob were discussing the coating problem with her when an alarm sounded. As the two engineers looked up in shock at the huge motley gray ship that had appeared on the monitors, Nola was already climbing into her tiny ship. This was what she had been born to do, what others had died trying to take away from her. Even as the larger pirate ship closed the 'Stars converted hanger was cycling and the two engineers hastily withdrew to the safety of their office. The hunter was just about to find out this prey had a protector for less than a minute after the first alarm, Nola and her tiny fighter were in space.

Bloodbeard, Captain of DragonsHeart, an outdated cruiser converted to pirate, stared at the ploddingly slow freighter before him. Somehow the civilian craft had managed a cry for help before their jamming had become effective. "Must be fargin' ex-military aboard" he cursed, "No half-breed civilian reacts that fast." Abruptly something caught his eye, a brilliant dot against the nightdrop of space. "Identify that" he ordered as the tiny ship grew. "And raise tha' Farg'in shields."

"Target is already within shield perimeters" his weapons officer answered. "Unable to computer lock weapons, it's too fast and too nimble." A tiny shudder followed the mans words, tiny at to those on the Bridge, but alarms were already lighting up DamCon's board.

"Main engines damaged, ships speed reduced three percent" the navigator reported. "He's using our own weapons against us. Our missiles are unable to match his maneuvers."

"Cease missile launch then you half-breed fool" Bloodbeard ordered. "Pulsars and Guns only, and get some people on the hull. Maybe hand weapons can chase that bug away. And where's that identification I wanted?"

"Unable to identify Sir, there's nothing like it in the banks" his Science Officer answered, a tinge of fear was in her voice.

Further alarms sounded, some yellows turned red. "Primary jump engine disabled" Engineering reported, "He's concentrating on the engine array. We're losing crew from radiation and weapons fire. It's too hot back there for anyone on the hull. We're sublight until repairs can be made"

The old Ursinoid roared, "One stinking little Farg ship, one pilot and we can't kill him?" He glanced at the display. With DragonHeart crippled the 'Star was slowly pulling away. "Open fire on that Farg freighter" he ordered. "With the mothership dead, that stinkin bugs not long for...." Lights failed, quickly reverting to deep red emergency lamps. "Now the Farg what" he screamed, staring at the escaping freighter.

"Main coolant line damaged. Reactors are off-line..."

"I don't give a Fa... Oh shit" Bloodbeard hissed as the three military craft exited hyperspace less than half a light-second away. "Abort attack, get us out of..." Whatever the old bear was going to say was lost as the three ships opened fire, their first volley targeting DragonHeart's bridge.

Captain William Blackface stared at the tiny craft in the Banards Star's makeshift hanger. Badly damaged, it sat cooling as Betty and Bob worked to drain leaking fluids. "And you say your pilot flew this tiny thing against a cruiser class ship and managed to survive?" he asked. "I really must meet this man myself. Really must."

Leo coughed. "Our pilots in sickbay right now sir, wounds and all. You understand." For a second he thought he caught a titter from Betty, but ignored it.

"Fully, quite understandable" Blackface agreed. "He's quite the lucky one to even be alive." Walking around the craft he shook his head. "Antique slug guns and ancient naval auto-cannons. My God man, what in the name of sanity did he do? Fly up their a... backsides?" Reaching out he touched the damaged ships hull, flakes of purple paint falling into his paw. "Very bad taste in colors though. But then no ones perfect." He brushed the chips off his gloves, nodding to the two laboring engineers as he and Leo walked towards the hatchway. "Quite the good crew you have sir. Much better than I would have expected from a simple civilian ship. Oh yes. There was a reward out for that ship, your entitled....

As the hatch closed Betty LaWest cracked up, falling to her knees under a shower of cooled lubricant. "If he... If he only knew" she sobbed, holding her ribs. "He this, he that.... Like a woman couldn't do it?"

Bob's hand fell on her shoulder. "Tha's alright lass" he replied, his voice as calm as ever. "As he said, nobodies perfect. But, I don't think this is the kind of oil ye want in yer fur, is it?"

Betty suddenly realized where she was standing, looking in horror at the brilliant red fluid dripping from her fur. "Oh DRENS" she screamed, running towards the emergency shower, Bob's deep laugh following her.

Leo Goldpaw stepped into the tiny Medical department, nodding to Betty. Who, wearing nothing but a loose wrap was busy rubbing neutralizer for the oil bath she'd had earlier through her fur. Stepping to the single bed he looked down at the sleeping Lynx. "Finally got rid of that high society fox and his 'followers' he told Betty as he watched the sleeping woman breath. "How is she?

Betty capped the bottle in her hand, pulling her wrap up for modisty, then walked over, studying the readouts. "Deep bruises from her straps, broken ribs, Hi-G stress injures and a deep cut in her side where the canopy shatted into her. She really needs better suit armor Leo if she plans to do this again. She'll live, probably be up by morning grousing about oversleeping." She handed her bottle to Leo, "Do my back will-yah? she asked, letting her wrap drop in the back. "That oil's got an additive that drys you out, makes yah flake like a snowstorm for weeks."

Leo took the bottle, absently working the thick cream deep under Betty's dense fur as he talked. "Nice reward waiting when we get planetside, some new military contacts too. Enough for a few upgrades, repairs to that ship of hers and some class one supplies too boot. Might even get a good cargo, once word gets out."

Betty started purring under Leo's attention, absently moving her wrap to allow his strong hands better access to places she couldn't reach. "Class one? Better food, real clothing and maybe a real bed" she asked, turning slowly to let Leo's powerful hands reach other places.

"Yeah" Leo replied, carefully closing the bottle as he stopped suddenly. "Lets get out of here Betty, we're disturbin tha' terminally crazys in here." He took another look at Nola. 'Small package, big bang' he thought, then followed Betty from the chamber, quietly closing the hatch behind them. Laying his arm across Betty's shoulder he looked up into the woman's eyes. "We need to talk."