"Tranquility Base, the Pinafore has landed."
--Roger, Pinafore the United States Coast Guard welcomes you to Port Luna.--
"Thanks, Mike, is the Marshall in port? I got some things to discuss with him," I said from the bridge of the SS Pinafore. The dear thing was a kludge and a half, based on a relatively small yacht that I'd purchased from a federal auction of captured drug dealer luxuries. I'd patched the Ferrari-sized hole amidships and threw some random components into something resembling a warp-drive configuration. After a liberal coating of Handwavium, or as I preferred to call it, Dingus MacGuffin, I had a spaceworthy ship capable of "making the Kessel run in 12 parsecs".... and relative comfort.
I also had state-of-the-kludge medical facilities on board, but that would best be described later.
-- Roger, Pinafore, Marshal Dylan is in port. Do you need him to come to you? --
"Yes, please," I replied as one of my passengers approached. I turned to her. "Yes, Mister Dobbs?"
The buxom catgirl blushed and adjusted her baggy coveralls. "My wife and I would like to thank you for rescuing us from those slavers."
I grimaced. "I wish that I'd chanced on them earlier, then I could have prevented your mishap. You do know that right now Handwavium Biomods are irreversible?"
"They are?" she asked and blinked her clear blue slitted eyes. Her ears drooped in despair. "But you..."
"Mine was voluntary, and I was able to direct the process," I replied. "Can we keep that a secret? Shapeshifters tend to make the mundanes nervous."
"Hey!" Dobbs objected.
"You may as well face it, Mister Dobbs, to most of the folks on Terra, you now count as one of the Fen," I said. "And they aren't aware of what 'Doctor Moreau' in the brig was able to accomplish. Many folks won't believe that you were transformed into that against your will."
"He's right, dear," Mrs. Dobbs purred from the stairwell to the enclosed deck. She slunk onto the bridge with the grace that her husband tried to hide. The only reason I could tell her from her Husband was the fact that she actually wore an outfit that flattered her new body.
--to be continued
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll
--Roger, Pinafore the United States Coast Guard welcomes you to Port Luna.--
"Thanks, Mike, is the Marshall in port? I got some things to discuss with him," I said from the bridge of the SS Pinafore. The dear thing was a kludge and a half, based on a relatively small yacht that I'd purchased from a federal auction of captured drug dealer luxuries. I'd patched the Ferrari-sized hole amidships and threw some random components into something resembling a warp-drive configuration. After a liberal coating of Handwavium, or as I preferred to call it, Dingus MacGuffin, I had a spaceworthy ship capable of "making the Kessel run in 12 parsecs".... and relative comfort.
I also had state-of-the-kludge medical facilities on board, but that would best be described later.
-- Roger, Pinafore, Marshal Dylan is in port. Do you need him to come to you? --
"Yes, please," I replied as one of my passengers approached. I turned to her. "Yes, Mister Dobbs?"
The buxom catgirl blushed and adjusted her baggy coveralls. "My wife and I would like to thank you for rescuing us from those slavers."
I grimaced. "I wish that I'd chanced on them earlier, then I could have prevented your mishap. You do know that right now Handwavium Biomods are irreversible?"
"They are?" she asked and blinked her clear blue slitted eyes. Her ears drooped in despair. "But you..."
"Mine was voluntary, and I was able to direct the process," I replied. "Can we keep that a secret? Shapeshifters tend to make the mundanes nervous."
"Hey!" Dobbs objected.
"You may as well face it, Mister Dobbs, to most of the folks on Terra, you now count as one of the Fen," I said. "And they aren't aware of what 'Doctor Moreau' in the brig was able to accomplish. Many folks won't believe that you were transformed into that against your will."
"He's right, dear," Mrs. Dobbs purred from the stairwell to the enclosed deck. She slunk onto the bridge with the grace that her husband tried to hide. The only reason I could tell her from her Husband was the fact that she actually wore an outfit that flattered her new body.
--to be continued
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll