The Space Gypsy Stories

This is where you actually get to read or listen to the Space Gypsy stories for yourself.

The scripts for all the current series of The Space Gypsy Adventures can be found below.

Alternatively, if you wish to listen to John Leeson's brilliant narration of one our tales you can get one of our MP3 CDs for the princely sum of £1.00.  Please make your cheque or postal order payable to Damien's Trust and send it to - Damien's Trust, 4 Derwent Avenue, Netherton, Maryport, Cumbria. CA15 7LZ. 

Please enclose a note stating your name and address.

Your £1.00 covers the cost of the disc and Postage and packing. 

The Space Gypsy Adventures

“The Christmas New Arrival”

Written by T.J. Askew with additional suggestions from Gerry Paquette

 

Narrated by John Leeson

 

Prologue

(Read by Gemma)

 

It's Christmas time on Zenophon and Drakester City is covered with snow.

All the spaceport traffic is grounded, until the controller says it's safe to go.

Right across the spaceport, everything is still.

Not a single noise can be heard, except for Rekki's till.

For, our raccoon friend is working hard, keeping the freighter pilots fed.

Plying them with tea and jammy rolls - and toasted slices of bread.

On the outside of the spaceport, not a single thing does stir,

except for a cold young fox cub, who's standing bristling his fur.

For, this is my little brother Damien, his notebook in his paw,

He’s cursing at the driving snow, wishing it would thaw.

He's trying to get the numbers of the freighters in the park,

But his hobby’s being severely hampered by the coldness and the dark.

"Oh, blast this rotten snow!" he's been forced to decree,

there must be 300 freighters in here - and I've only got twenty three!"

"Then, come on in, you stupid cub!" he hears a nearby voice say.

He turns around, and sees a hound - it's Duke standing in the café shop doorway.

"You must be blooming crackers!" says Duke to the little cub.

"You must be blooming sad! 

Stood out here in the freezing cold with your pen and your bloomin' pad!

Come on in to the café, and get yourself warmed through!

Rekki's got the kettle on, he's fixing huz a brew!"

“Bloomin’ mega!” answers Damien.  “That’ll do for me.”

“I’ve just about frozen my bloomin’ tail off!  I could do with a cup o’ tea!”

So this, my listening friends, is how our little story starts.

It's Christmastime on Zenophon - a time close to all huz Space Gypsies’ hearts.

We Mogavis call it Ronsinfest, and we hold it very dear.

We pray for friends who are far away - and celebrate with those who are near.

We think about our loved ones, and those who are apart.

Damien and I think about our parents, with an ever-heavy heart.

But hey!  Come on, it's Christmas!  Let's liven up and cheer!

Santa's coming later on - and he's got a very special present for Leah…..

(tails off into the sound of swirling snow and Christmas version of ‘Destination Eschaton’)

–   

 

(*note – ‘Roggie’s name is pronounced as rhyming with ‘doggie’)

 

            "Yes, yes.  Yes, Roggie, I know it's Christmas...or Ronsinfest, or whatever you Space Gypsies call it.  But, the fact is it's snowing like crazy down here and the spaceport's on a total lockdown for the night." 

            Leah was speaking to one of her regular customers on the café comlink.  Roggie* Raccoon was circling the spaceport in his freighter, requesting clearance to land. 

            "Eh? What?  Special clearance?  Oooh, I dunno if I can grant you that, Roggie.  I'll get into trouble with the spaceport authorities.” 

            Roggie's voice crackled a little more in Leah's earpiece.

            "Oh, right, I see," she sighed.  "I'm sorry, I didn't know that.  Yeah, I guess that the kids at the Freshway’s Christmas party will be disappointed if you don't turn up.  O.K. Roggie, just for you," she added, wagging her finger at the raccoon's image on her screen.  "I know I'm going to regret this, but I'll give you special clearance.  And you'd better get it right!  It's my tail on the line if you don't!  Just try not to hit anything as you come in!" 

            "Nay celanti," replied Roggie, in his lilting Trengavis Space Gypsy accent.

            "Nay celanti, nay celanti!" repeated Leah, pulling the earpiece out and tossing it on to the console in front of her.  "Nay celanti!  Is that all you blasted Space Gypsies can say?" she said, giving Gemma a rather disgruntled look.

            "What does it mean?" asked Rekki, who was standing behind the café counter drying the cups.

            "It means 'no problem'," replied Gemma, on Leah's behalf.

            "Yeah, no problem!" growled Leah.  "That's you Space Gypsies’ answer to everything, isn't it?  No problem!  No blooming problem!  That ruddy prat of a raccoon drives me to distraction at times!"

            "Oh, thanks!" sniffed Rekki.

            "Eh?  No, not you, you idiot!  That other prat of a raccoon!  Roggie!"

            “Oh, Roggie!  Yeah, he can be a bit of a prat at times.  Mind you, he’s a Space Gypsy, isn’t he?”  Rekki added, smiling at Gemma.

            “Yeah, and he’s also a DJ,” Gemma replied, smiling back.  “So the odds are well stacked in favour of him being a prat, aren’t they?”

            “Er…yeah, point taken,” replied Rekki, lowering his head and returning to his cups.

"So, what’s Roggie Raccoon done to upset you, Leah?" Gemma asked.

            "He's requesting special clearance to land."

            "What?  On a night like this?  Is he mad?"

            "Yeah, probably," Leah sniggered. 

            "Why does he need special clearance?  Is he having some kind of trouble?"

            "Err...Well, he will be if he doesn't land.  He's playing Father Christmas at the Freshway's Christmas party!"

            "Ah!  So that’s why there was so many kids running around the supermarket earlier on.  I take it that Roggie's providing the entertainment?"

            "Yeah, he is.  Rekki was gonna do it originally, but he passed the job on so’s he could keep an eye on me,” Leah replied, giving her husband a rather disconcerting look.  “Mind you, I don't why he's bothering.  I'm not due for at least another week!"

            "It's only a precaution, Leah Dearest," Rekki called from behind the counter.  "I didn't fancy having the baby landing half way through me doing my Santa Claus bit.  It wouldn't look right, would it?  - Santa having to make a run for it before he's finished dishing out the pressies!"

            "Oh, Rekki," Leah sighed.  "You aren't half a worrier!"

“That’s what husbands are for - worrying!”

“Yeah, that and mucking the house up!” 

Leah heaved herself into the corner alcove beside Gemma.  She rubbed away some of the condensation from the café front window and took a look outside.  "I hope that that stupid raccoon knows what he’s doing,” she said.  “It’s snowing like crazy out there.  You can barely see the runway."

            "Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about him," said Gemma.  "He's a good enough pilot.  He's almost as good as me!"

            "Is he?  Oh, well, that settles it then!  I'd better call the crash tenders in!"

            "Ruddy cheek!"

            "Just following procedures Gemma, that’s all.  Roggie'll be landing on sensors only.  He can’t possibly see where he’s going.  I think it might be best to put the spaceport authorities on standby, don’t you?"

            "Yeah, I suppose so,” Gemma sighed.  “And anyway, you giving him special permission to land won’t help things.  If he wrecks the spaceport, it’ll be on your head.”

            "I'll have a word with control," said Duke, looking up from his newspaper.  "You just stay put, Leah.  A lady in your position shouldn't be moving about too much anyway."

            "Ach!  It's no problem," his sister replied.  She then winced as she realised that she’d fallen into the trap of using the Space Gypsies’ favourite catchphrase.  "Oh! Blast!" she said.  "Now look!  You’ve got me bloomin’ well saying it now!"

            "Yeah, it's catchy, isn't it?" Gemma smiled.

            "I mean it, Leah!" Duke continued.  "A lady in your position...."

            "Oh Duke!  Pack it in, will ya!” Leah scowled.  “I'm getting a bit sick and tired of hearing that phrase lately!  'A lady in your position!', 'A lady in your position!'   'A lady in your position shouldn't be doing this', or 'A lady in your position shouldn't be doing that!' You and that blooming husband of mine....!  You’re driving me nuts!  You won't let me do anything!"

            "They're only looking out for you Leah," said Gemma.

            "Urghh! Yeah!  And they’re driving me crazy!  As if it isn't bad enough having to waddle around like a blooming great big overstuffed duck!  On Christmas Eve too!  I feel like the blooming Christmas turkey!"

            "Now, hey, come on!  It's not that bad!"

            "Yeah?  That's easy for you to say!  You're not the one who's carrying, are you?"

            "Eh?  Er….No, I'm not," replied Gemma, a little sadly, looking down at her bioamulet.  "Not yet, anyway."

            Leah grimaced. "Oh!  Oh, Gemma, I'm sorry,” she said.  “I didn't mean anything by it.” She took hold of her friend’s forepaws and gave her a reassuring smile.  "You'll get your chance.  You'll see.  Only, you’ll find out it isn’t exactly a bag of laughs,” she added, pressing her forepaws into the small of her back.  “It’s a darn pain in the back most of the time.”

            "Mmm, well, I suppose I’ll find all that out - one day - hopefully," Gemma replied, glancing over towards Duke, who quickly turned away, trying his best to avoid her gaze by carrying on talking to the spaceport traffic controller over the comlink;

            "Yeah it's Roggie Raccoon," He was saying.  "He's the Father Christmas at the Freshway’s Christmas party.  Eh? What?  No, I don't know what type of vehicle he's flying in!  He's Father Christmas, isn't he?  He's probably flying in on a blooming sleigh with a bunch of reindeer!"

            "Er, Duke," called Gemma.  "Tell the controller to scan the skies for a Space Gypsy Type 82 freighter.  Trengavis usually fly around in those."

            "Oh, rightio Gemma, will do," Duke replied.  "Did you get that?" he added to the controller.  "Yeah, a Space Gypsy freighter - Type 82.  What?  You've got one on your scope?  Oh, well, there you go, then!  That'll be him!  What’s that?  You’ve got an unmarked vessel and a Federal Alliance cruiser as well?  How far out are they?  Three parsecs?  Ahhh, well, I don’t think you should worry too much about them.  They’re too far away for us to bother about.  Just get Roggie down safely."

            "So, what's Roggie Raccoon doing as a Space Gypsy, then?" Leah asked Gemma.  "I mean, being a raccoon and all that, he can't be a true blood Space Gypsy, can he?  Mind you," she then laughed, reflectively.  "He's already got the face mask for it, hasn't he?  I mean, being a raccoon and all that, he’ll've been born with the Mogavis sunglasses across his mug already, won’t he?"

            "Er, yeah, if you say so, Leah," replied Gemma, a little dryly.  Her friend's reference to the ‘Mogavis sunglasses’ had irked her slightly.  "Only Roggie is a Trengavis, not a Mogavis, so his face markings - or, his sunglasses, as you put it - are a bit out of place, in a way.  True Trengavis don’t have any face markings at all.  They’re all-white, with beautiful pale blue eyes.”

            “Yeah, but he can’t be a Space Gypsy by birth, can he?”

            “Well, it is possible.  Raccoons have married into Space Gypsy families and then paired off with other Space Gypsy raccoons before now.  But no, Roggie isn’t a Space Gypsy by birth, he’s a Space Gypsy by marriage.  I actually know his wife fairly well - Mizzy's her name.  Beautiful white fur.  She's a snow fox.  She'd be quite at home out there tonight!"  Gemma added, looking through the window.  "You wouldn't be able to see her!"

            "Mmm, probably not," replied Leah, rubbing away some more condensation from the glass.  "But there is one fox out there that I can see quite plainly tonight - and I don’t think it’s a snow fox, either."

            Gemma leaned over to look through Leah’s section of the window.  "Oh, I see him,” she said.  “No, it isn’t a snow fox.  It's a ruddy daft fox!  It's that stupid brother of mine! "

            "Damien?  What's he doing out there on a night like this?"

            "Shivering, probably," Gemma smiled.  "Who knows what that silly little beggar's up to?  He's got an obsession about collecting space freighter numbers.  He’s probably doing that."

            "Well, he won't get many out there tonight.  You can hardly see the freighters for snow!"

            "You go and tell that silly little devil that!  He won't listen to me!"

            "I'll get Duke to go and have a word.  Damien usually listens to him.  Duke!" Leah called over to her brother.  "Do me a favour.  Go and drag that silly little beggar inside!"

            "Which silly little beggar?" Duke asked.

            "That silly little beggar out there!" Leah replied, pointing towards Damien through the window.  “He’s standing out there in the freezing cold collecting freighter numbers."

            "Is he numb, or what?"

            "Probably," smiled Gemma, gazing through the window.  "Looking at the weather out there tonight, he’s probably numb from head to toe!"

            "Don't worry Gemma, I'll get him in."

–

 

            About an hour earlier, Damien had been accompanied on his number collecting quest by his little girlfriend, Jehlise.  The little kitten was helping him to write down the details.  They stood huddling together, trying their best to keep warm.  But unfortunately, Damien's muffler and Jehlise's long scarf weren’t quite warm enough to keep out the bitter cold of the Zenophon North Region winter.  Nevertheless, there were freighter numbers to be collected, and Damien was determined he was going to collect them.  Jehlise was happy enough just to be near him, even if she didn't quite understand her little cubfriend's obsession.

            The freighter they were looking at at the moment was a particularly large one.  To Damien It looked very interesting.  It also looked very out-of-place, very suspicious.  It didn't look like the usual kind of freighter that would normally visit the spaceport.  In fact, it didn’t look like any kind of freighter that either Damien or Jehlise had ever seen before.  However, their observations were being made from the freighters shape in the snow.  They couldn’t actually see the vessel properly itself.  All that could be seen of it clearly was part of the nose cone.  The rest of it was absolutely buried in the snow. 

            "That freighter looks very suspicious," said Damien, tapping his pen thoughtfully on the top of his pad.  "It looks like a great big dart."

            "It looks an ice cream to me," smiled Jehlise.  "It's all covered in snow."

            "Yeah, but look at the shape of it.  That ship's built for speed, I’m sure of it.  The only thing is, it's too big to be a racing freighter.  Oooh!  What if this freighter's been built to escape the Alliance?"

            "W-What if it has?" chattered Jehlise, starting to feel a little colder.

            "Don't you see?  Maybe this freighter belongs to a criminal?  Or maybe even a gang of criminals?  A bunch of hardened thieves and cut-throats on the run from the law!  Maybe if we take down all the details we might get a reward from the Zenophon Galactic High Council!  We’ll be heroes!  - The little fox cub and the kitten who brought down the big bad ruthless criminals!" 

            "Th-thieves and c-cut-throats?" shivered Jehlise.  "I don't think I like the sound of that!"

            "Oh, come on, scaredy-cat!  Don't you want a share of the big reward?"

            "Not if that freighter belongs to thieves and cut-throats, I don’t.  They might come after us."

            "Ah, come on.  Nobody’s gonna come after huz.  The Alliance’ll have ‘em locked up in no time when we give them the information.  Come on, help me to get down all the details."

            "How are we going to do that, Damien?  The freighter's all covered in snow.  You can't see it!"

            "Well, we’re just gonna have to rub some of the snow off then, aren’t we?  We're bound to find some markings sooner or later."

            "Oh, OK Damien,” said Jehlise, not sounding very convinced.  “If you say so.”

            After about half an hour of rubbing, and a pair of numb forepaws apiece, Damien and Jehlise didn't appear to be any closer to solving the puzzle of the mysterious freighter.  It was then that Damien suggested that they should clamber up onto the starboard nacelle casing. 

            "I'm not going up there," replied Jehlise.  "It's too slippery.  We’ll fall off."

            "Eh?  Rubbish!" Damien replied.  "Look, the freighter's parked up against a wall.  All we have to do is climb up on to that and then use it to get up on to the nacelle casing."

            "I'm not going climbing about on nacelle casings in this dress!" Jehlise protested.  "My Mum'll kill me!"

            "All right, all right," Damien sighed.  "You win.  You just wait down here and keep watch.  I'll go and climb up on to the nacelle casing.  Maybe there'll be something up there that can tell huz exactly what this freighter is."

            "Oh, OK, Damien.  But, be careful."

            Quick as a fox, Damien scaled the partition wall.  He then scampered along the top of it until he came to the nacelle shaft.  Once he was there, he jumped across the short gap between the wall and freighter and scuttled along the nacelle casing, slipping and sliding every few steps as he went.  As he neared the front of the craft one of his back paws almost slipped from right under him, kicking off some of the snow from the freighter's hull.  Damien quickly grabbed at the mesh covering on the front of one of the nacelle vents to stop himself from falling.  "Phew!" he said, rubbing a forepaw across his brow.  "That was close!"

            Damien's slip had dislodged a large sheet of snow, which dropped from the freighters nacelle casing, making a kind of deadened ‘shlump’ noise as it hit the ground.  Jehlise came scampering round the side of the vessel to see if he was all right.  “Damien, are you OK?” she whispered.

“Yeah, fine,” he whispered back.

“What was that noise?”

“I just slipped and kicked some of the snow off the freighter, that’s all.  I’m OK, but I think I can see something.”

“What is it?”

“I dunno.  It’s some kind of marking.  It was under the snow.”

“What kind of marking is it?”

“I dunno yet.  I’m trying to see it.” 

Holding on to the ventilator mesh, Damien leaned forwards and shone his torch along the length of the nacelle shaft.  He saw what looked like part of a symbol on the vessels outer casing.  "It’s some kind of picture,” he said.  “Like a dagger, or something like that….Oh, no,”  he then added with a gasp, a rather fearful thought creeping into his mind. 

            "Damien, what's wrong?" whispered Jehlise from below.  "Are you alright?"

            "I'm...I'm....I'm not sure." he replied, a little nervously.  "It’s this symbol."

            "What about it?"

            "I…I….I think it's a dagger.  Oh dear, you know what that means, don't ya?"

            "No, I don’t.  What does it mean?"

            "Pirates!  It means that this is a pirates’ freighter!  Oh no!"

            "Oh, Damien!  Come down will you?  You're frightening me!"

            Damien was not only frightening Jehlise, he was frightening himself.  In fact, he became so frightened, he couldn't move.  "Oh my, oh my, oh my!  This is a p-p-p-pirate's freighter!" he stuttered.  "Oh!  We've had it now!  I b-b-b-bet it’s Captain Blackfox's freighter!  And that...Oh, no!  That's...that's the sign of the Red Dagger!  And I’ve touched it!  You’re not even supposed to look on the sign of The Red Dagger, never mind touch it!  Anyone who looks upon the sign of The Red Dagger suffers the Curse of The Black Paw!"  Damien looked at his forepaws.  They were as black as Ronsin's best.  "Oh, heck!" he cried.  "I've got the Curse of The Black Paw!  What am I gonna do?"

            "Oh, Damien! Come down from there!" Jehlise called, beginning to cry.  "I don't like it here.  I want to go into the café."

            Beginning to panic, Damien started to make his slippery way back along the nacelle casing towards the rear of the craft.  However, before he could get there, another space freighter suddenly appeared.  This freighter flew in low over all the others in the freighter park, whipping off the snow from most of them in its wake.  Damien found himself being caught in the thwack of the wind following along behind it.  He lost his footing and slid off the pirate freighter, landing, with a soft thud, in a big mound of snow beside the ship.  After a few moments, he emerged from the pile, shivering and shaking the snow from his fur.  Jehlise ran over to see if he was all right.

            "Oh, Damien!  Damien!  Are you OK?" she said.

            "Er....Yeah..pttt...! I think so," he said, spitting snow from his mouth.  “I...er.. I had a soft landing."

            "Oh, good.  Thank Ronsin for that.  When I saw you falling I thought you might have hurt yourself."

            "No, I’ve just hurt my pride a little bit, I think," he said, rubbing his rear end.  "I’ve bruised my butt!  What the heck was that?"

            "It was another space freighter.  I think it's landing outside Freshway’s."

            Damien and Jehlise peered round the forward landing strut of the pirate vessel.  Surely enough, the freighter which had just flown in was exercising a vertical landing, blasting up billows of snow as it settled, just outside the Freshway’s Supermarket.  The two friends watched it for a few moments, waiting to see who would step from it.  Whoever it was, Damien was determined he was going to pass on the curse of The Black Paw to them, for the numbness in his rear end was beginning to wear off now, and his poor little butt was beginning to throb. 

The freighter remained silent for a few moments.  The two friends watched in anticipation as all the outside lights on the vessel systematically went out.  Then, finally, they heard the hiss of an air-tight door being opened.  They peered round the back of the vessel to see that the rear hatch was opening up.  The cub and the kitten shielded their eyes against the bright light which came flooding out of the vessels cargo bay.  They then saw a figure stepping from the ship.  They weren’t quite able to see who it was at first because the light behind them was so bright.  It was only when the figure stepped down from the craft that Damien and Jehlise were able to see, and were rather pleasantly surprised to find, that the pilot of the ship was someone that they both knew very well.  It was Father Christmas!

            "It’s Father Christmas!" Damien gasped.  "Father Christmas, is that really you?"

            "Eh, what? Who's that?" asked the figure, trying to see who was speaking to him from the darkness.  "Ah!  It’s a little snowfox!  Or rather, it’s a little fox covered in snow!  And a little pink kitten!  Oh my!”      

            "It is!  It's Father Christmas!” said Damien.  “Bloomin’ mega!”

            “Ah!  It’s young Damien!” Father Christmas replied.  "And his little girlfriend."

            "Er, Jehlise is not my girlfriend."

            "Yeah, whatever.  Yes, Jehlise, of course.  You're a cute little kitten, aren't you?  Mind you, you're getting bigger now."

            “How d'you know our names?” asked Damien.

            "Well, I’ve known you for long enough, you silly little fox cub!  I've known you ever since you were born.  Don't you recognise me?  It's...ooh...er...wait a minute..."

            Damien and Jehlise looked on inquisitively.  It would appear that Father Christmas had forgotten his own name.  What they didn't realise was that the person inside the Father Christmas outfit was actually Roggie Raccoon.  Roggie knew Damien quite well through Gemma - and, by luck of chance, Damien had, without realising it, just given him Jehlise's name.  Roggie decided that this would be a good time to get into character.

            "What's wrong?" asked Damien after a few seconds.  "Have you forgotten your name?  It's Father Christmas!"

            "Eh?  No, of course I haven't forgotten my name!  That would be silly, wouldn't it?  No, what I've forgotten is my sack of presents.  It’s in my freighter.  Here, come and land me a paw with it, will you?”

"Yeah, nay celanti,” replied Damien.  “Mega space freighter, Father Christmas,” he added as he stepped inside, his voice echoing around the vessels hold.  “Is it new?”

“Er, yeah, it is fairly new.  I decided to treat myself this Christmas as well.”

            "Mmm, well, that’s only fair, I suppose.  I mean, you give everybody else presents, don’t ya?  So, I don’t see why you shouldn’t treat yourself every now and then.  The only thing is though, I thought you usually travelled around in a sleigh?"

            "Ah, things have moved on since those days, young fox cub.  I use a space freighter now.  I find it's much more efficient.  It's faster, it’s easier to steer....and it’s a whole blooming lot warmer!  Now, are you going to stand there all night asking me questions, or are you going to lend me a paw with this sack?"

            "Oh, yes…er…Well, no, maybe I shouldn’t,” replied Damien, suddenly remembering his affliction.

            "Oh?  And why not?"

            "Because I 've got The Curse of The Black Paw."

            "The curse of the what?" chuckled Roggie.

            "The Curse of The Black Paw.  You see that big freighter over there?" said Damien, pointing over towards the freighter he'd just been clambering over.  "It's a pirate's freighter.  It belongs to Captain Blackfox.  I got a bit too nosey.  I went clambering all over it.  I saw the sign of The Red Dagger, so now I’ve got The Curse of The Black Paw!"

            "Well, I don't know much about pirate freighters," replied Roggie, shining his torch over towards the vessel in question.  "But I do think that I might be able to help you out with your Curse of The Black Paw."

            "Can you?" said Damien, gleefully.  "How?"

            “Wait here.”  Roggie disappeared through a side door in the freighters hold.  After a few seconds he reappeared with a small object in his forepaw.  "Here, use this," he instructed, placing the object into Damien’s paw.  "Run some warm water over your forepaws and then rub them with this.  The curse’ll be gone in no time."

            "Oh!  That's wonderful!" Damien gasped.  What is it?"

            "It's a bar of soap, you silly little fox!" Roggie laughed.  "Your Curse of The Black Paw is just muck!"

            "Eh?  But what about the pirate freighter?"

            "Hah!  Well, as far as the pirate freighter's concerned, I think that you’ll find that your imagination’s been running away with you.  What made you think it was a pirate's freighter?  Did you actually get a good look at it?"

            "Well, no, not really.  It's all covered in snow.  But I saw the sign of the Red Dagger.  That was enough."

            "That freighter isn't all covered in snow right now," said Roggie, shining his torch over towards the vessel.  "Most of it's been blown off."

            Damien looked over, only to realise, with an ever-increasing feeling of stupidity, that the 'pirate' freighter was, in fact, his and Gemma's own Space Gypsy freighter, The Rapscallion.  Jehlise immediately burst into fits of laughter;

            "Hee..hee...hee.  You were frightened by your own freighter," she giggled.  "Just wait until I tell Gemma!  She'll tease the living daylights out of you!  Hee…hee.hee!"

            "Yeah, I know she will," scowled Damien, rather dejectedly.  "I...er...I...I feel a bit silly now," he said.

            "And, so you should, young fox cub.  So you should!" said Roggie.  "Frightening yourself with your own freighter!  What next?"

            "But what about the dagger?  I definitely saw...." Damien tailed off as his gaze followed the torch beam back along the starboard nacelle shaft.   He realised that the 'dagger' he thought he had seen was actually the bottom part of the freighters logo.  "It’s the letter 'P' in the word 'Rapscallion', isn't it?" he said.  "That bottom bit on the letter curves round like....Oh!  What an idiot I've been!"

            "You've been more than an idiot!" giggled Jehlise.  "You've been an absolute nitwit!  Frightening yourself like that!  Hee...hee..hee."

            "Women!" Damien grumbled.  "Why do they always like to make you feel so small?"

            "Yes, come on Jehlise,” smiled Father Christmas.  “It isn’t Damien’s fault if he has an overactive imagination.  Now, are you two coming with me to the Freshway’s Christmas party, or are you gonna stand out here all night and freeze your tails off?"

            "Are we invited?" asked Damien.

            "Of course you’re invited!” smiled Father Christmas.

“Oh, well, in that case, you go along with him, Jehlise.  I’ll join you later.  I’ve still got some more numbers to collect."

            "Oh, OK,” replied Jehlise, sounding a little disappointed.  “But don't be too long, Damien.  You don't want to miss out on the jelly and the ice cream!"

            "Ice cream!  On a night like this!  Brrrr!  No thanks!"

            "Yeah, don't stand out here for too long," added Roggie...er...Father Christmas, swinging has sack on to his back.  "I might have a little present for you."

            "Yeah, gloves would be nice!" called Damien, blowing on to his forepaws.  "A nice pair of gloves - foxgloves!  Hah-hah!"

            A loud cheer from the children in Freshway’s Supermarket heralded the arrival of Father Christmas.  Damien looked over and gave a little smile;  "Well, at least those kids are enjoying themselves," he said to himself.  "More than you are, you silly little twit!" he then added, thumping himself in the chest.  He turned round and began to trudge slowly back over towards the café.  The wind turned icy, and the snow began to fall again.  When he reached the café doorway he stopped and looked through the window.  He could see people inside in the warmth.  Some were in groups, others were sitting alone.  Some were having meals, others were simply sipping tea.  But, whatever they were doing, they all had one thing in common - they were warm! 

            “And that’s where you should be t-t-too, you silly little t-twit!” Damien muttered, jiggling about in the café shop doorway, hopping from one back paw to the other, blowing on his forepaws in an effort to keep warm.  "Either that or you should have gone over to the p-p-party with J-J-Jehlise!" 

After a further ten minutes of almost freezing to death he finally decided that he'd had enough;   “W-w-w-well D-D-Damien,” he finally stuttered, shivering in the cold.  “You really are a s-s-silly twit.  St-st-standing out here in the c-c-cold w-w-waiting to c-c-collect r-r-registration numbers of sp-sp-space freighters.  You need your b-b-blooming head t-testing!”

            “I couldn’t agree more,” said a voice from behind.  Damien turned to see Duke looking round the café door.  “Come inside, you silly little devil.  You won’t see many freighters tonight.  It's Christmas Eve!  And anyway, the spaceport's on a total lockdown.  Everything’s covered in snow!  Nothing’s flying in and nothing’s flying out.”

            “I've...I've...I've just seen Father Christmas!" Damien stuttered.  "He landed in a Space Gypsy freighter."

            "In a Space Gypsy freighter, was he?” Duke smiled.  “Now, I know you've been out here for far too long!  You're beginning to see things!"

            "But I did see Father Christmas!" Damien insisted.

            "Yeah, of course.  Sure you did!” replied Duke, a little patronisingly.  “And I've just been having an intelligent conversation with the Sugarplum Fairy who sits on the top our Christmas tree!"

            "There...There...There's no need to take the Mick!  I did see Father Christmas.  He's gone into Freshway’s!"

            "Yes, all right, Damien.  I'll believe you.  He and Mrs. Christmas do their shopping there all the time!  Come on in, you silly little beggar, you'll feel a bit warmer in here.  Rekki's got the kettle on.  A nice cup of tea, that's what you need.”

            "O-O-K-Kay, Un-Uncle D-D-Duke, I’m c-c-coming.”

 

–

 

Damien entered the café and dashed over to where Gemma was sitting along with Leah.  “G-Gemma,” he whimpered,  "G-Gemma, m-my n-nose is c-cold, m-m-my p-p-paws are c-cold and even m-m-my t-t-toes are cold - and I only got twenty three numbers.”

            “Oh, you poor little soul,” his sister cooed.  

            “And...And...and it’s got me thinking.”

            “Oh yes?  And what’s that?”

            “Well, s-standing out there in the c-cold.  It-it-it made me wonder if I was really a fox? "

            "Eh?  What are you talking about?  Of course you're really a fox!  What makes you think that you're not?"

            "Well, how d'you know I'm a fox?"

            "Because you're my brother, you great daft nana!  I'm a fox, so you're bound to be a fox as well!”

            “Well, I don’t feel like a fox!  Not tonight, anyway,” said Damien, folding his arms in an apparent sulk.

            “Oh, dear!  What’s brought all this on?  Had a little tiff with the girlfriend, have we?”

            "Jehlise is not my girlfriend!"

            "Yeah, whatever," smiled Gemma.  "And that double milkshake on table four last night drank itself, did it?”

“Well……”

“Hah-ah!  Gotcha!” Gemma smiled.  “I saw you two lovebirds last night.  So, what makes you think you might not be a fox?"

            “Well, my muzzle, would you say that that was part of a fox?”

            “Well, it’s part of you, isn’t it?  So, it’s bound to be part of a fox!”

            “And what about my forepaws?  Are they part of a fox?”

            “Well, yeah!  Of course they are!”

            “And my back paws, are they part of a fox too?”

            “Yeah, of course!  Look Damien, I don’t know what’s brought all this on, but let me tell you this;  You’re a fox, OK?  You’ve got orange fur, you’ve got a great big bushy tail, you’ve got black arms, black legs, black lugs and probably a black butt for all I know!  If you’re not a ruddy fox, then I don’t know what you are!  So, why are you asking me all these stupid questions?”

            "Because I'm ruddy freezing, that's why!  I thought the fur on huz foxes’ backs was supposed to keep huz warm in the cold?"

            "It’ll take more than a furry hide to keep you warm out there tonight, Damien," said Gemma, peering through the window.  “It’s blowing a bloomin’ blizzard and it’s flamin’ freezing!  And anyway, you were born into the wrong clan to be a snowfox.  The Trengavis are the snowfoxes...."

            "...Yeah, yeah...and The Rusgavis are the sandfoxes, and The Talgavis are the waterfoxes, yeah I know," replied Damien, completing the sentence which he'd heard many times before.  "But that doesn't explain why I'm feeling cold!"

            “You're feeling cold because it’s about minus bloomin’ sixty out there tonight!” replied Gemma, pointing towards the window.

            “So, if the Trendygarvies are the snowfoxes,” said Leah.

            “That’s Trengavis,” corrected Gemma.

            “Yeah, whatever - and the Rustygarvies as the sandfoxes, what does that make you Moggygarvis?”

            "Huz Moggygarvis, as you so eloquently put it Leah, are the diggers.  We’ve got very good eyesight and strong forepaws - which is probably the reason why The Alliance are so keen to throw huz down the trisomite mines whenever they get the chance.  Speaking of which," Gemma added, looking at Damien's forepaws, "it looks like you've been digging in the mines already.  What have you been doing to get your paws so dirty?"

            "Oh, er...it's a long story," Damien replied.  "It isn't really dirt.  It's The Curse of The Black Paw."

            "The Curse of The Mucky Paw, more like," said Gemma.  "I take it you’ve been rubbing the dirt off freighters again to get their numbers?”

            “Er, yeah, I have,” Damien replied, giving Gemma a rather guilty look.

            “Mmm, I thought so.  Just remember to get them washed before you have anything to eat."

            "Er...Yeah, I will,” said Damien, fanning his tail towards the café’s open fire.  “I just want to get warmed up a bit first.  I think I’ve frozen my tail off!”     

            “Er, no, it’s still there,” replied Gemma, tilting her head sideways to make sure that her brother was still in possession of his beautiful bushy tail.  “Oh, look, you poor little devil,” she then cooed.  “Why don’t you come over here and sit on your Big Sister’s knee?  She’ll give you a big hug to warm you up.”

            "Eh?  Er, no, you're O.K. Gemma," said Damien, backing away slightly.  "I’ve got dirty paws, remember?  Anyway, I think I'm all right with the fire here.”

            "Yeah, but the fire can't cuddle you, can it?"

            "Well, it could," Leah smiled.  "But it wouldn't be very pleasant for him!"

            "Er, yeah, no thanks!" replied Damien. 

            "Oh, come on, Damien," Gemma insisted, reaching out towards him.  "Don’t be such a baby!"

            "Er...No, I'm really all right here."

            "Damien!  Come here! Now!" Gemma ordered, pointing her forefinger directly towards the floor.

            "Oh, all right," Damien ruefully replied.  He made his way over towards his sister, swinging his arms around sulkily, his tail waving stiffly behind his back.  He plonked himself down rather reluctantly beside her and looked her directly in the eye;  "But, I warn you - I don’t want any of that mushy st....MMMMPHH!"  Too late.  Before Damien could object to the 'mushy stuff', Gemma had grabbed him for a good big dose of it.  With his muzzle buried securely inside Gemma's jacket, Damien looked over the top of her lapel - partly to draw breath and partly to see if any of his school friends happened to be in the café.  Thankfully, none of them were.  It was OK to have an older sister who was protective towards you, but to have one who was motherly as well could be rather embarrassing at times.  Still, it was Christmas Eve after all and, if Damien was truthful to himself, he really didn’t mind Gemma's hugs.  In a way, they made up for the hugs that his mum wasn’t able to give him.  He missed his mother dearly, and loved his sister very much – in his own, rather uncomfortable way.  He just didn’t like to show it too much in front of his friends.  After a few moments of checking to make absolutely sure that there was no one in the café that he knew, he responded to Gemma’s hug by putting his arms around her waist - a gesture which Gemma reciprocated with a beaming smile.

            “Aw, look at that, Duke,” said Leah.  “Doesn’t it give you a warm feeling inside?”

            “Eh?  What?  Oh, yeah, it is a bit sickening, isn’t it?” Duke replied, looking up from his newspaper.  “Hey, Gemma,” he called.  “Don't you think he's a bit too old for that kind of thing?”

            "You're never too old for this kind of thing," Gemma smiled.  "Anyway, he’s my little brother, isn’t he?  I love to mother him.”

            “Yeah,” Duke sniggered.  “I’d love to as well.”

            “What? You’d love to mother him?”

            “Oh, mother! I thought you said smother!”

            “I most certainly did not,” Gemma replied, rubbing her muzzle in the tuft of fur on the top of Damien’s head.  “I wouldn’t harm a single hair on top of my lickle bruvver’s head, now, would I?”

            “That isn’t what you said last night when you were in the shower,” Damien replied, “and I switched the environmental controls over from hot to cold.”

            “Yeah, well, that was different.  You were a little brat last night and I felt like killing you.  But, tonight you’re just my lickle Damesy Wamesy.”   She kissed him on the cheek and rocked him backwards and forwards in her arms like a baby.

            “Oooh, I think I’m going to be sick!” said Duke.

            “Yeah, that makes two of us,” added Rekki, poking his nose through the serving hatch from the kitchen.

            “Oh, does it, now?” said Leah, slowly fixing her gaze on her husband and folding her arms.  “And I suppose that’s the attitude you’ll take when our little baby arrives?”

            “Eh?  Oh, er….That’ll be different, Leah Dearest.”

            “Yeah, it had better be, Rekki Dearest, or else I shall break both of your arms!”

            “Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag,” muttered Rekki under his breath, turning away.

            “What did you say?”

            “Eh?  Oh....er, I was just wondering what Gemma and Damien were talking about.”

            “What’s it got to do with you what they’re talking about?  Honestly, I don’t know!  Those ears you raccoons have, they're so sensitive I’m surprised they don’t pick up radio signals!”

            “At least I haven’t got a mouth like a black hole,” Rekki muttered.

            “What did you say?” Leah snapped.

            “Eh?  Oh, I..er..I was just saying that I’d better go and get some more coal….for the open fire.”

            “Oh, I thought you said something else.”

            “Phew!” thought Rekki.  “That was close!”

 

–

(*note – at this point an additional credit is required)

Additional credit – This episode is dedicated by the author to Trevor Thompson, ex-Technical Drawing teacher of Netherhall School, Maryport.  Your classes and teaching style are remembered with great fondness.  Your help, advice and the loan of a school drawing board back in 1987 have been a great help.  Please let us know when you want the drawing board back!!

 

            “One of your teachers was in here a little earlier,” said Gemma to Damien.  “He popped in to the café for a cup of tea.”

            “Ulp! Er...which one?” Damien asked, with a slight feeling of dread.

            “Mr. Boneson.”

            “Oh, Mr. Boneson.  He’s cool, Mr. Boneson.  He takes huz for nature studies.  There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

            “No, no, nothing like that!” Gemma smiled.  “He’s just been doing a last bit of Ronsinfest shopping with his wife in the spaceport.  They were on their way home.”

“Oh,” said Damien, sounding a little disappointed.  “I wish I’d been here.  I like Mr. Boneson.  Why didn’t you give me a call on the comlink?”

“Well, I did. But, I got no reply.  No doubt you were too busy kissing with your girlfriend to bother with a call from your sister.”

“We weren’t kissing!” replied Damien, a little indignantly.  We were collecting freighter numbers!”

“Oh?  Didn’t get many, did ya?” Gemma smiled.

“That’s because you can’t see the numbers for snow right now.  Anyway, I was probably up on top of The Rapscallion when you called.  I was probably out of range.”

“And what were you doing on top of The Rapscallion?”

“Oh, er…it’s a long story.  I…er…I mistook it for a pirate’s freighter.”

“Well, it is, in a way,” Gemma smiled.

“So what were you and Mr. Boneson talking about?  I hope he wasn’t saying anything bad about me?”

“No, no. Quite the opposite, in fact.  He was praising you.  It would seem that you’re one of Trevor’s star pupils.”

            “Oh, Trevor, is it?” said Damien, giving his sister a light push on the arm and putting on his ‘posh’ voice.  “On first name terms, are we?”

“Well, of course we are!  We’re both adults.  Anyway, Trevor Boneson is a Space Gypsy too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.  That’s why he’s so cool.  He took huz to the zoo a few weeks ago.  He showed huz the snakes.  We all had to keep back because some of them were dangerous.  He told huz that if you’re ever bitten by a viper you have to get someone to suck the venom out within ten minutes or else you’ve had it.”

            “Ooof, nasty,” said Gemma, shaking her head.  She then smiled and added;  “And what happens if you’re bitten in the butt?”

            “Well,” Damien replied thoughtfully.  “I guess that’s the time you’ll find out who your friends really are!”

            Gemma laughed and ruffled the tuft of fur on top of his head.  “Ooooh, you little tinker!  Come here and let me give you another hug.”

            “Oh, get off will you,” Damien replied, playfully pushing his sister away.  “Mr. Boneson also told huz about boa constrictors as well.”

            “Oh?  Did he?  What about them?”

            “Well, in a way, they’re a bit like you.  They cuddle you until eventually they squeeze the living daylights out of you!”

            “Oh?  Is that so?” Gemma smiled, tickling Damien’s ribs.  “And do they tickle little fox cub’s ribs as well?”

            “Hah-hah!  No!” Damien laughed.  “They just squeeze ‘em!”

            “Oh, you mean, like this?” And again Gemma grabbed poor little Damien for another cuddling session.

            “Oh, come on Gemma,” said Duke.  “Let up on the poor little fella, will ya?  He ain’t a cub anymore.”

            “He’s my little brother and if I want to cuddle him I will,” Gemma replied.  “Besides,” she added, giving him a foxy smile.  “It’s all good practice, isn’t it?  I mean.  I might have a cub of my own some day.”  Duke fell silent as Gemma turned to Leah;  “Speaking of which, when’s yours due?”

            “Well, according to the midwife,” said Leah, moving around rather uneasily in her seat, “it’s supposed to be some time next week…Ouch!…But, judging by the amount of kicking that it’s doing, I tend to think that she might have got things a little bit wrong.  It feels like it’s trying to kick it’s way out now.  One thing I do know for sure,” she added with an uneasy smile.  “If it’s a boy I’m gonna get it's name put down for Drakester United!  The darn thing’ll make a bloomin’ good football player!  It’s kicking the stuffing out of me!”

            “It’s all those mint balls you were stuffing yourself with earlier on,” said Rekki.  “The kid’s probably having a game of soccer!”

            “Mint balls?” smiled Gemma. 

            “Er, yeah,” replied Leah, looking rather guilty.  “Mint balls.  You know...Cravings…and all that.  I had a few a little bit earlier on.”

            “A few?” said Rekki.  “You ate the whole bloomin’ packet!  You never even said, ‘Paddy will ya lick!’  I didn’t even get one!”

            “Yeah, all right,” Leah replied, a slight hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.  “So I ate the whole bloomin’ packet!  Who asked you for your comment on the subject anyway, Radar Lugs?”

            “Well, nobody, Leah Dearest.”

            “Yeah, exactly.  So, will you do me a favour and keep your snout out, otherwise I’ll give you a bop on it!”

            “Huh!  Charming!” sniffed Rekki, turning to Duke.  “You marry a girl.  You look after her, and eighteen months later she threatens to bop you on the snout!  Work that one out if you can!  Hey Duke, you were at the wedding, weren’t you?”

            “Er, well, I think I was,” Duke smiled.  “I don’t remember much about it!”

            “Eh?  Oh, yeah,” Rekki smiled.  “That was the night when Gemma got you in that freighter, wasn’t it?  That was the night when she went in there with a green bioamulet and came out with a blue one!  Yeah, I remember.”

            “Err, yeah,” Duke replied, blushing slightly.   “And the less said about that, the better!”

            “Yeah, all right, fair enough,” smiled Rekki, giving his brother-in-law a knowing grin and a slight elbow in the ribs.  “But, no, I was talking about the wedding ceremony itself.  You know, during the day.  I know I’d had a couple before I went up to the altar…just for a bit of courage and all that.  But, can you tell me if I committed myself to being loved, honoured and be hen-pecked?”

            “Eh?  Er...Not as far as I remember!” Duke laughed.

            “And then there was that other bit where the preacher said, ‘if anyone has any reason why this man and this woman should not be joined in matrimony, let him speak now’ - and what did you say?  Absolutely nowt!  You just stood there like a pantomime policeman!”

            “Hey, don’t blame me!  I was the one who was pointing out the escape route through the vestry as Leah was entering the church, remember?”

            “Yeah, and sometimes I wish I’d taken it!”

            “Well, you know what they say, Rekki,” smiled Duke, taking a deep sigh and looking his brother-in-law directly in the eye.  “When a bride enters the church the first thing she sees is the aisle.  Then she sees the altar - and then she sees you.  And that’s how she sees it for the rest of her life - aisle, altar, you!”  He then laughed and added, “You see Rekki, old son, a woman marries a man expecting that he'll change - and a man marries a woman hoping that she won't!"

"Yeah, I’m beginning to realise that," sighed Rekki, looking thoughtfully into the depths of the coffee percolator.  “And all this advice is coming from someone who isn’t married yet!  How is it that a bachelor knows so much about married life?”

            “Because I’m very close to me dad.  How d’you think he got to be so good at being a stellar mechanic?  It’s because he used to spend most of his time hiding from me mum, tinkering with space freighters in the hangar!”

            “Ah, I see.  So how come’s you haven’t learnt from him, then?”

            “What d’you mean?”

            “Well, you’re on the verge of getting married to Gemma, aren’t ya?  How come’s you haven’t learned from your dad’s mistake?”

            “Because, just like me dad, I’m a sucker for a cute face!  And anyway, Mum likes Gemma – and that doesn’t help things very much,” he added with a sigh.

            “Yeah, that’s a bad sign, the mother and the wife getting along.  They’ll be ganging up on you before you know it.”

            “Mmm, no doubt,” Duke replied thoughtfully.  “I guess I’ll just have to be like me dad and spend a bit more time in the hangar!  Hey, look,” he added, pointing up towards the café wall clock,  “it’s well past eight o’clock.  You’re off duty now.  Why don’t you pour us a couple of coffees and we’ll go over and join the girls?”

            “Eh? Oh, yeah.  OK.” sighed Rekki reservedly .  “Oh, wait, I can’t.  Sue-Lynn hasn’t reported in yet.  It’s supposed to be her shift.”

            “She’s probably just been held up by the snow,” Duke replied, taking another look through the window.  “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.  We’re not exactly busy, are we?  You can pour yourself a cuppa and keep an eye on the counter from over there,” he said, gesturing towards the table where Leah, Gemma and Damien were sitting.

            “Yeah, I suppose I could,” Rekki smiled.  He poured a couple of coffees and then added;  “Come on, then.  Let’s go and have a drink with the enemy!” 

            Rekki and Duke picked up their cups and wandered over to join Gemma, Leah and Damien in the corner alcove.  From where he was sitting, Rekki could easily keep an eye on the counter.  However, one thing that he was not able to keep an eye on from where he was, was the tracking scanner.  And, as fate would have it, as soon as Rekki had left the scanner unattended, a signal began flashing on it.  Unbeknown to Rekki and his friends, their cosy little chat - and, indeed, their whole evening, was about to be interrupted by a dramatic series of events - a series of events which was due to begin about……now…….

–

            (sound effect – loud bang!!)

            (strained voices – characters are in the middle of a battle)

Bones -            She’s fighting back, Guv!

Spiker -            Yeah, Bones!  I know she is.  Get the bloomin’ tractor beam on to her!!

Bones -            The tractor won’t work, Guv.  She’s still got a partial grid up!

 

            At that very moment, just entering the Deltron Belt, and being pursued by a Federal Alliance Battle transporter, was a shuttle transporter from the planet Cattfelus.  At the helm was a rather agitated young black and white lady cat.  She kept on getting out of her pilot’s seat, checking and rechecking her current position.  Neutral space, and the sanctity of Zenophon were just a few moments away.  If the rear deflectors could just hold out for a little while longer, the little cat and her vessel would be safe and dry.  But the cat’s hopes of getting to Zenophon safely were fading fast, as the vessel's devisualising grid was beginning to fail, forcing her transporter to shimmer in and out of view.  The port and starboard deflectors had already failed, limiting the cat's chances of reaching Zenophon safely down to one option only - she would have to keep her tail waving in the Federal Alliance’s face for the remainder of the journey, for the rear of her transporter was the only part of her craft that was now left fully protected.

            The shuttle transporter in question was none other than Fluff One, and at the helm was Gemma’s long-standing friend and business acquaintance, Miss Fluff Catt.  Fluff had been attending a shuttle auction on Salibistra.  She had purchased a number of legitimate second-pawed shuttles from that rather nefarious shuttle dealer, Jimmy DaWeasel.  She was now heading for Drakester spaceport to seek Duke's advice on the vehicle's standards of spaceworthiness.  Her original intentions were to drop the vehicles off with Duke and then carry on to Cattfelus to spend Christmas with her brothers and sisters.  Unfortunately, unbeknown to our little feline friend, some of the shuttles that she had purchased from Jimmy were not quite as legitimate as she would like to think they were, and her plans for a quiet and uneventful Christmas were now on the verge of being shattered, for this was the reason why she was now being pursued across space by Detective Inspector Spiker and his sidekick Detective Constable Bones of The Federal Alliance Military Police.

 

–

 

            “Mmmwooww, Of all the indignations!” meowed Fluff.  “How embarrassing!  Having to wave my butt at those morons in that cruiser while I make a run for it!  I’m going to kill that Jimmy DaWeasel!”

            The latest in a number of explosions rocked her craft.  The Alliance were gradually breaking down the vessel’s deflector grid by bombarding it with low yield blazer bolts.

            "Oh, Mowwww!” Fluff hissed, the Alliances’ constant bombardment rousing the true feline temper in her.  “Pack it in, Spiker!” she growled down the comlink.  “I've told you once and I’m not gonna tell you again, my cargo's legit!  I‘ve got no stolen merchandise on board!"

            “Please forgive me if I call you a liar,” Spiker replied.  “I know for a fact that you’re carrying at least two stolen Alliance shuttles.”

            “Look, you overgrown werewolf!  I’ve got all the paperwork here, see!” she said, waving a bunch of papers towards Spiker’s image on the viewscreen. 

            “Yeah, nice pile of loo paper you‘ve got their, Fluff,” Spiker replied, rather cynically.  “You’ll be OK if you ever run out.”

            “It’s the paperwork for these shuttles.  It shows that I've got nothing to hide.”

            “Oh, well, in that case, you won’t mind if we drag your transporter aboard and we’ll take a look for ourselves.”

            “Of course I mind!  I mind very much!  I’m just an ordinary Cattfelus business person trying to make an honest living and you’re harassing me!”

            “If you’re just an ordinary Cattfelus business person trying to make an honest living, how comes you were flying invisible to scanner probes when we first detected you?"

            "I couldn’t have been very invisible if you detected me!” Fluff snarled. 

            "You weren’t.  You were making a rather pathetic attempt to sneak past us with a damaged devisualiser grid.  That’s the truth Fluff, and you know it.  We picked up your ion trail on the long range scanners.  You've got a faulty nacelle there too, and that’s another felony."

            "I'll get Duke to fix it when I put in at the spaceport."

            "Yeah, and while you’re at it why don’t you ask him to fix your transponder emitter as well?"

            "Why's that?"

            "Because you're not putting out any transponder code, that’s why!  That’s another felony and another suspicious act.  If you really didn’t have anything to hide you wouldn't be flying invisible to scanner probes with your transponder emitter switched off, would you?”

            “I would be round here,” Fluff replied.  “It’s a bad part of space, this.  There's too many space pirates around here for my liking.  Why advertise the fact that you're transporting shuttles around in an area like this?"

            “The only pirates around here Fluff, are your pals the Space Gypsies - and seeing as how you're well in with them, I wouldn't have thought that you would have had anything to worry about.”

            “That’s all right for you to say, Mr. Spiker.  But, the truth is I’m a single defenceless little lady cat with a rather large and very loaded shuttle transporter.  I could be easy pickings for some of the low lifes who live around here.”

            “Defenceless?  You?” sneered Spiker.  “I’ve seen you getting out of scrapes before, Fluff!  You’re about as defenceless as an Altezian battlecruiser!  But, I’ll tell you something, you’re no match for this Alliance transporter.  So, come on, pull over and show us your licence!"

            “Uh-uh, you must be bloomin’ joking!  The only thing I’m going to show you is my butt end all the way down to Zenophon!  I know what’ll happen if I stop.  You'll pull my transporter aboard your vessel and that’ll be that!  I know you of old, Spiker!”

            “Yeah, and I know you of old too, Fluff.  So, come on, stop mucking about and bring your vessel to a dead stop.  You’ve got two stolen Alliance shuttles on there and you’re heading for Drakester spaceport.  A suspicious act if ever I saw one.”

            “Look Spiker, I haven’t got a clue what you’re going on about.  All the shuttles I have on board are legit.  I’m taking them down to the spaceport to have them checked over for their spaceworthiness certificates, that’s all.  You can follow me down there and check the paperwork for yourself, if you like.”

            “Oh, yeah!” sniggered Spiker.  “Follow you down to Zenophon where you know you’ve got immunity.  You must think I was born yesterday.”

            “Well, maybe not quite yesterday,” Fluff smiled.  “Some time last week, perhaps!”

            “Don’t try to be funny with me, pussycat!  Either you drop that last deflector of yours and let us bring you aboard, or else we’ll give you a good dose of a neucleonic rocket.  After that, you can take your chances with Zenophon’s atmosphere!”

            Fluff didn’t like the sound of that.  A nucleonic rocket would indeed knock out her last remaining deflector grid.  It would also, as Spiker was implying, knock her freighter into the outer atmosphere of the planet, causing it to burn up.  Fluff was keen to reach the Zenophons' surface, but not with the help of a rocket from Spiker.

            “Well, pussycat, what’s it to be?” he demanded.

            Fluff pressed a key on the pad in front of her, severing the comlink.

            “Communication closed,” reported the transporter's on-board computer.

            “Good,” Fluff replied.  “He’s a boring conversationalist, anyway.  I wouldn’t like to go out on a date with him!  That D.C. of his isn’t too bad though!  How long ‘till we get to Zenophon space?”

            “Twelve minutes, eighteen seconds.”

            “Can we not get there any quicker?”

            “Negative.  Fluff One is flying at maximum capacity.” 

            A loud bang shook the vessel.  “Attention, Miss Fluff.  Alliance have recommenced their attack.”

            “Yeah, I’d guessed that," replied Fluff, sounding a little choked.  That blast had caught her off guard, causing her to slide down in her seat.  The seatbrace had ended up under her chin, almost throttling her.  She unbuckled the brace and slid herself back into position.  "What’s the damage?” she asked.

            “Minimal damage to aft deflector grid.  The Alliance are using low yield blazers to break down our defences.  Attention, computer worm detected.  Alliance are attempting to ascertain my access codes.”

            “Spike the worm and send them false codes,” Fluff smiled.  “This transporter might be Alliance built, but it’s no longer part of their fleet.  They won’t get the codes that easily.”

            Again Spiker’s image appeared on the viewscreen in front of her.  “Drop that last grid, Fluff,” he ordered.  “This is your final warning.  We can’t allow you to get to Zenophon with those shuttles.”

            “Spiker, I believe the Space Gypsies have an answer for a situation like this.  It goes like this;” she raised her forepaws towards the screen and rubbed the first and second finger of one forepaw against the first and second of the other.  “Ticky, ticky, tie-tie.  Ticky, ticky, tie-tie.”

            To Spiker, this was the last straw.   The Space Gypsy paw gesture that Fluff was demonstrating towards him was a mildly offensive one.  “You’ve been associating with Space Gypsies for far too long!” he growled.  “You're a disgrace to Cattfelus and all the Alliance citizens who live there."

            "Ah, pooh!" replied Fluff, blowing a loud raspberry.  "Cattfelus had nothing to do with The Alliance until you invaded it six years ago.  Most of the 'citizens', as you call them, hate being associated with you.  So, don't give me all that old claptrap, Spiker.  It doesn't work!  Now, if you'll excuse me, this particular citizen of Cattfelus has an honest living to make."  Again, Fluff cut the comlink.

            As the cat's image disappeared from his screen, Spiker turned to Bones;  "She's a disgrace to The Alliance and all it stands for," he said.  "Launch the neucleonic rocket!”

“Er, Guv.  Aren’t we a bit too close to the planet’s gravity pull for that?” Bones replied.  “A blast with a neucleonic rocket could knock her vessel into the outer atmosphere.  She could burn up.  Can’t we just break down that last deflector with a few more blazer shots?”

            “Nah!  By the time those blazers get through, she’ll be in neutral space.  She’ll be able to bleat immunity then.  No, Bonesy, blast that grid away with a rocket.  We’ll grab her with the tractor beam just before she enters Zenophon’s gravity well.”

            “She's almost within Zenophon's gravity well now, Guv.  Ah, well.  Rocket away.”

 

–

 

            On board Fluff One, the vessels defence computer, Twit had detected the missiles launch; 

            “Attention, Miss Fluff.  Neucleonic rocket on positive track.”

            “Plot an evasive course and launch the counter measures.”

            “Attempting to comply.  Rocket locked on.  Counter measures launched.  Rocket ignoring counter measures.  Impact in five seconds, four, three...”

            Fluff reached up and pulled the large metal harness of the pilot's seat down over her shoulders.  It locked into place with a satisfying click.  She didn't fancy being half strangled by the seatbrace for a second time.  She took hold of the naviwheel and braced herself for the impact.  The explosion when it happened was deafening.  The tactital console to her left burst into flames, showering her in blue and green sparks.  Immediately, the fire surpressants sprang into action, quickly extinguishing the blaze.  A second explosion shook the vessel.  This time a ceiling mount on the navigations console broke away, causing the console to swing down, crackling and sparking, on its neuro-optic cabling, almost striking Fluff on the forehead.  A blazer shot struck the aft deflector, and Fluff's ears flicked backwards as they began to pick up the rather unnerving sound of metallic creaking noises coming from somewhere near the rear of the craft.  The view of the curvature of the planet Zenophon began to list to one side on the viewscreen.  Fluff didn't need a systems report to tell her that her vessel had been badly damaged, but she asked for one anyway;

            “Twit, systems report,” she called.  The computer did not reply.

            “Twit, I need a systems report,” she repeated, this time a little more urgently.

            “Com....Com....Comppplyying,” came the computer’s broken reply.  “Re....re...reboot re..re..required from....from...from backup...da…databanks.”

            “Er, yeah,” Fluff replied, surveying the charred remains of what was left of the tactical console.  “Somehow I get the feeling that that's not gonna be possible.”  She gazed at the ever-listing view of Zenophon on the viewscreen.  Her vessel was obviously caught in its gravity well.  Without the computer online, the transporter would simply fall uncontrollably towards the planet, breaking up in its outer atmosphere.  The little cat needed to think quickly.

            “Alternative reboot, alternative reboot,” she kept on repeating to herself, tapping her teeth thoughtfully with her fingerclaws.  “Where can I get an alternative reboot?”  She took a look around the flight deck, hoping to gain some inspiration from somewhere.  Maybe the craft had another system available which the mainframe computer could reboot itself from?  Nothing was springing to mind until she noticed a small piece of paper lying among the debris on the floor.  It was the registration docket for one of the shuttles she was carrying.  “The shuttles!  Of course!  Twit, are your systems compatible with the navicomps on any of the shuttles?”

            “Affirm...Affirm...Affirm...”

            “Yeah, all right, I get the message!  Link up with the most compatible shuttle navicomp and reboot your system.”

            “Link...Link...Linking."  Fluff heard the reassuring whirring sound of the system coming back online.  "Reboot complete,” said the computer.

            “Good.  Damage report, please.”

            “Rear deflector inoperable.  Rear hatch destroyed.  Rear shuttles on base deck and upper deck burning.  Attempting to jettison."  From somewhere near the aft section of the craft, Fluff could hear a kind of metallic whirr-bang, whirr-bang noise.  Obviously, the sound of broken machinery trying to do its job.  "Jettison mechanism inoperable," reported the computer.  "Fire surpressants in rear section inoperable.  Plasma fires burning out of control.”

            “Oh!  Apart from that, we’re in pretty good shape!” Fluff smiled, trying to make light of a grim situation.  “Any chance of me escaping in one of those shuttles?”

            “No, Miss Fluff.  The jettisoning mechanism is non-functional.”

            “Well, I suppose it was worth a try.  It's days like these when I wish I'd spent a few extra credits on that flashy blue transporter with the escape pod.  Instead, I landed myself with this one and spent the extra cash on a claw makeover!  Ah, well, the things you do when you're a young kitten!  I suppose we’re gonna crash, are we?”

            The computer gave a confused buzz;  “Please restate the question.”

            “No, I don’t think I will.  I don’t think I want to hear the answer.  What are The Alliance up to?”

            “They are attempting to lock on to us with a tractor beam.”

            “Resolute to the very last!” Fluff sighed.  “They won’t succeed.  We’re coming in at the wrong angle.”

 

–

 

            On board The Alliance transporter, Bones was trying his best to take hold of Fluff’s vessel with the tractor beam;

            “I hope you don’t mind my saying, Guv - but this is a stupid idea.  The cat’s too far into the atmosphere.  She's going in at too steep an angle.  She’s starting to burn up - and so will we if we follow her.”

            “Keep trying, Bones,” replied Spiker.  “Keep trying.  She’s got two of our shuttles on there.”

            "Yeah, but they're not much good to us now, Guv!" Bones replied, indicating the rear view image of Fluff's transporter on the viewscreen.  "They're on fire!"

            Spiker looked, only to realise with a sinking heart, that Bones’ observations were correct.  The neucleonic rocket had not only blown open the transporters tailgate, it had also set light to the two stolen Alliance shuttles which, as fate would have it, Fluff had loaded last.

            "Oh, isn't that just bloomin' great!" he growled.  "Can't you get anything right? You gormless nit!  You're too bloomin' handy with those blasted rockets!"

            "Hey!  Don't blame me!  You were the one who told me to fire them!"

            "Yeah, and you're the one who couldn't aim them properly!  You could have just taken out the rear hatch!  You didn't have to set fire to the blasted shuttles as well!"

            "Oh, yeah, like the bloomin' rocket is selective about what it blows up, isn't it?" Bones replied, sarcastically.  "I mean, maybe I should have had a little pep talk with it before I fired it?  You know, something like; 'Please Mr. Rocket, try just to blow the back hatch off.  Leave the shuttles alone!'"

            "Yeah, all right, Bones!  All right!  I get your point. But what I was trying to say is maybe you shouldn't have hit her so hard, that's all."

            "How could I not hit her so hard?" said Bones, incredulously.  "You're talking about a neucleonic rocket here, not a bloomin' peashooter!"

            "Well, you could have used a low yield one!"

            "They're all the same bloomin' strength!  Blimey!  You remind me of that song we used to sing at school, 'Ten Sticks of Dynamite'."

            "Oh?  I don’t remember that one,” said Spiker.  “How did it go?"

            "Quite simple; ‘Ten sticks of dynamite hanging on the wall - and if one stick of dynamite should accidentally fall, there'll be no ruddy dynamite - and no ruddy wall!’  It's the same with a neucleonic rocket!  Once it hits something, it blows it to bits!  Simple as that!  There's no reasoning with it!  And I'll tell you something else as well, Guv.  I wouldn't fancy being in your fur on Monday morning!"

            "Why's that?"

            "Well, you said it yourself just a few minutes ago.  Fluff's a Federal Alliance citizen - and you've just shot her down over a neutral planet.  That's gonna cause a bit of a stink, isn't it?"

            Spiker gave a visible gulp.  He knew that Bones was correct.  If Fluff's craft was allowed to crash it could cause a rather sticky diplomatic incident. 

            "Take us after that ship!" he ordered.  "And get that blasted tractor beam on her!"

            "Aye, Guv!" replied Bones, heaving a long-suffering sigh. 

 

–

           

            On board Fluff One, Fluff was making a last-ditch attempt to save both herself and her vessel.  She had put out an automated distress signal and was now clinging on to the naviwheel, trying valiantly to bring the craft’s nose up to correct its angle of descent;

            "Twit, I need some upward thrust on the nose cone," she cried.

            "That system is damaged and offline," the computer replied.

            "Oh, great," replied Fluff, who was by now quickly running out of strength.  One of Bones' blazer shots had damaged the hydraulics mechanism on her power-assisted naviwheeel, making it almost impossible for her to steer her craft.  "I've got to get her nose up!  Activate the nose fins."

            "Nose fins activated."  A small pair of wings slid out from the body casing on either side of the nose cone.  As soon as the transporter hit Zenophons atmosphere, the airflow around the fins would help Fluff to raise the vessels nose and correct its angle of descent.

            "Fire up reverse thrust," said Fluff.  "We need to get our back end flattened down a bit."

            "Reverse thrust activating.  Angle of descent now nearing acceptable parameters.  Plasma fires still burning.”

            “Are the glider foils intact?”

            “Glider foils in full working order.”

            “Good.  Then, that’s how we’ll land." 

            On either side of Fluff's pilot seat was a hefty lever with a paw grip on top of it.  Fluff took hold of both of these and pushed them forwards.  "I'm shutting off all the engines," she said.

            “Nacelles one through four disengaging,” replied the computer.

            “Jettison the plasma tanks.  That should put the fire out.  If there’s no plasma to burn, the fire should go out.”

            “Plasma tanks jettisoning.”

            "Good.  Put down the landing gear and engage the glider wings.”

            “Engaging glider wings.  Landing wheels engaging.”

            Fluff took a Space Gypsy bioamulet out from under her blouse and gave it a kiss.  “In times of real trouble give the stone a kiss and make a wish.  That's what you once said Gemma, isn't it?”

            “Please restate the question,” replied the computer.

            “Oh, sorry, Twit.  I wasn't talking to you.  I was thinking about Gemma and Damien down at the spaceport.  They gave me this amulet for good luck.  Would you like to make a wish on it?” she added, holding the gem up towards the computers visual acuity sensor.

“Strictly speaking, Miss Fluff, you are not a Space Gypsy, and therefore the amulet is not part of your beliefs."

In reply to this, Fluff cocked her head sideways, in a motion rather synonymous to that of the curious cat that she was.  She wasn’t quite expecting this kind of reply from a computer.  However, it did go on to offer some more rather reassuring words;   “Nevertheless, considering the current situation,” it said, “if it is fitting, I hope that whatever divine deities you have chosen to believe in are taking the trouble to watch over you.”

            “Oh, thank you, Twit,” replied Fluff, a small tear in her eye.  She pressed the amulet closely to her chest and added;  “Thanks very much.  That’s....er....That’s really quite sweet.....for a computer!”

 

–

           

            On board The Alliance vessel, Spiker found himself being thrown across the flight deck as Bones swung the craft out of the way of Fluff’s discarded fuel tanks.

            "Bones!  What are you doing?  Where the heck did you learn to pilot like that?  Kindergarten?”

            “Er, no, Guv,” Bones chuckled.  “I checked through the Alliance's vid records and found a recording of your driving test.  I was just copying that!"

            “Levity doesn't really suit you, Bones.”

            "No, and neither does a tweed suit!”

            “You can be replaced.  You know that, don’t you?”

            “Oooh?  Can I?  Good!  Can I have that in writing?”

            “Don’t try to be bloomin’ smart!  Just fly the bloomin' ship!”

            “Aye, Guv,” Bones sighed.  “I see Fluff’s managed to put the fire out.”

            “Yeah, but at what cost?  She’s shut down her engines and jettisoned her fuel.  Once she gets into Zenophon's atmosphere that old tug of hers is gonna drop like a ten ton brick.”

            “Aye Guv, and look at this,” said Bones, pointing to the computer monitor in front of him.  “I’ve extrapolated her course from the corrections she’s been making.  Look who she’s going to be dropping in on.”

            “Well, well, well!  Drakester spaceport!  I knew it!  I knew it all along, Bones!  Didn't I say?"

            "Yes, Guv, you did," Bones sighed.

            "You know who's she's going to be dropping in on, don't ya?  Foxy Frida and her pals!”

            “You mean Gemma?”

            “Of course I mean Gemma!  Who else?  I don’t know how she’s going to do it, Bonesy, but I think she’s planning to land that transporter of hers right outside the front doors of Drakester spaceport.”

            “Ooh, that'll be a neat trick if she can do it."

            "Won’t it just?  But you seem to be forgetting one thing, Bonesy.  She's a cat!  She's got nine lives!"

            "Aye Guv, but I think she's used about eight of them in the last half hour!  How's she gonna land that old transporter of hers without any engines or fuel?"

            "I dunno, but I've got a bad feeling about this, Bones.  A real bad feeling.  We've got to nip this in the bud.  That hull of hers should have cooled down enough by now.  It should be stable enough to lock the tractor beam on to.”

            “Yeah, Guv.  Er, but the only problem is....she's out of range.”

            “Well, get her back into range, you nitwit!”

            “By the time we do that we’ll be in Zenophon’s airspace.  We aren't allowed to touch her there.”

            “I don’t care who’s airspace we’ll be in!  She’s not gonna give me the four finger treatment and get away with it.  Get after her!”

 

–

 

Down at the spaceport, the snowstorm had almost abated – for the time being, at least.  Duke was sitting by the café window, sipping his coffee and listening to the friendly banter which was passing between Gemma, Damien, Leah and Rekki. Suddenly, he sat up very straight.  An object in the night sky had caught his eye.  He put his coffee cup down and took a better look through the window.  High up in the sky and way, way off, somewhere over the sea, a bright object was moving across the heavens.  Every few seconds the object would shine quite brightly, then it would disappear - reappearing again a few seconds later a little further across the sky.

            "I wonder what that is?" he said.

            "What what is?" asked Leah.

            "That thing in the sky.  It keeps disappearing and reappearing."

            "Oh?  It could be a freighter.  I'll have a look and see if it's showing up on the scanner."

            "You’ll just stay put!" Duke growled, pointing at his sister.  "A lady in your...."

            "Yes, I know," Leah snarled.  "A lady in my position shouldn't be doing anything!  Is it OK if a lady in my position lifts this heavy spoonful of sugar into my coffee?  Or is someone going to jump to my rescue over that one as well?"

            "Now, hey, there's no need to be like that," Duke replied.  "A Lady in your...."

            "Ooooh! If you say 'A lady in your position' once more, Duke Rosenly, I'm gonna come over there and sconce you right between the bloomin' eyes with this blasted sugar bowl!"

            Duke gave a cheeky smile from behind the counter;  "Now then, Leah.  A lady in your position shouldn't be chucking sugar bowls around!"

            "Oooh!  I'm going to kill him!" said Leah.  "I'm gonna kill him!  Just let me out of this alcove, Gemma!  I'm gonna go over there, put my forepaws around his scrawny little neck and squeeze the living daylights out of him!"

            "Leah, sit down!" said Gemma.  "He's only saying it to get a rise out of you!  And besides, a lady.......Ooops, I almost said it!" she smiled.  Leah gave her a rather stern look.  "Er, what I was meaning to say was you shouldn't be getting yourself too worked up, Leah - especially with Duke.  He's only trying to wind you up."

            "I'll bloomin’ wind him up if I get my paws on him!" Leah growled.  "I put his bloomin' tail in the orange masher and keep turning the handle ‘til it's flat!"

            "Oooff!  Painful!" said Damien, from somewhere within Gemma's jacket.  He grimaced at the thought of what it might feel like to have your tail flattened in an orange masher.  "I don't think I'd like that!  Hey Gemma," he then added, "any chance of you loosening your grip a bit?"

            Gemma had been cuddling him for almost ten minutes now.  "Feeling a bit warmer now, are we?"  she asked.

            "Er..Yes, we are," he replied.  "We also want to breathe.  It's a bit stuffy in here, you know, with all this pongy perfume!"

            "Pongy perfume?  Pongy perfume?” said Gemma incredulously.  “Rotten cheek!  I'll have you know that my perfume comes from a very select boutique on Alzarius."

            "Yeah, a very pongy boutique on Alzarius!"

            "Listen, you, I'll have you know that 'Vixen' is the most prestigious boutique in the whole Third Galaxy.  It sells the latest fashions, beautiful blouses, wedding dresses...." she added through gritted teeth, looking over towards Duke, who pretended to be too engrossed in the scanner to notice what she was saying.  "Plus it also has some rather exquisite fragrances.”

            “Yeah, and some darn nasty niffs!” replied Damien.  “It’s getting right up my hooter!”

            “Oh, shut up and come here,” replied Gemma, cuddling him a little more.

            "There's also something else as well," came Damien's muffled reply.  "I think I’m allergic to your niffy perfume.  My nose is starting to run.  I think I've shnozzled a bit on your bioamulet."

            Gemma quickly let go of him;  "Oh!  You haven't, have you?" she said, looking at the gem.  "You dirty little devil!"

            "No, I haven't," Damien giggled.  "But it made you let go of me, didn't it?"

            "Mmm, it's a good job you haven't," Gemma replied, rubbing her amulet with her pawkerchief.  "Otherwise, I’d’ve throttled you!  It takes me long enough to shine this thing up as it is without you blowing your bloomin’ hooter on it!"

            "It's not very shiny tonight, though Gemma, is it?" said Leah.

            "Eh?  What do you mean?"

            "That bio-thingy of yours.  It's not very shiny.  In fact, if you ask me, Damien's outshining you tonight.  Are you sure you're wearing the right amulets?  You haven't got them mixed up in the bathroom, or something, have you?"

            "No, we're both wearing our own amulets," replied Gemma, inspecting her stone.  "Mind you, Damien shnozzling all over mine isn’t gonna help things, is it?" she added, giving the gem an extra hard rub with her jacket.

            "Sorry," Damien smiled, a little sheepishly.  "It's just when you give me one of your mega-hugs, you squeeze all the shnozzle out of me!"

            "Ugh!  Damien!  Do you mind?  I don't want to hear!" Gemma replied, covering her ears and turning away, giving a look of disgust.

            "Yeah, Damien, pack it in, will ya?" added Leah.  "What a thing to talk about!  In the middle of my café too!"

            "Sorry."

            “So, what’s it with the amulet then, Gemma?” Leah asked.  "Is its batteries running low?"

            "Oh, it doesn't run on batteries," Gemma smiled.  "It reacts to my chakra.”

            “Chakra?  Oh, yeah, I remember you telling me about that.  Something to do with body chemistry, or something, isn’t it?"

            "That’s right - and frame of mind."

            "Oh, frame of mind, eh?   Well, looking at that stone, I would guess that you’re either not feeling too well or you’re in a bad mood.”

            “What makes you say that?”

            “Because it’s dull!  Look, Damien’s is shining brighter.”

            “That’s because it’s Ronsinfest,” Damien smiled, rubbing his finger across his nose.  “I’m looking forward to opening my pressies tomorrow.”

            “Keep doing that with your bloomin’ finger and you won’t be getting any bloomin’ pressies tomorrow!” Gemma growled.  “Here, use this napkin!” she added, throwing a paper towel at him.

            “I was only rubbing my nose!" Damien protested.  "Blimey!  Don't you ever get an itchy hooter?  I wasn’t going to...”

            “I wasn’t going to give you the chance to!” snapped Gemma.  “Use the ruddy napkin!”

            "Oh, all right!  All right!  Blimey!  Who's a grumpy old fox tonight?"

            “I’m not a grumpy old fox!” retorted Gemma.

            “Yes, you are.  Grumpy old fox!  Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy!”

            “Watch it, Damien!  You’re pushing your luck!”

            “Ah!  I can see what’s going on here,” said Leah.  “Damien’s looking forward to opening his pressies tomorrow, that’s why his amulet’s so bright, and you don’t like Christmas...er...er...Ronsinfest, Gemma.  That’s why yours is looking a bit dull and that’s why you’re in such a grumpy mood!”

            “Oh, go to the top of the class, Leah!  You’ve just figured out huz Space Gypsies secret code!  Yeah, you’re right, Damien is looking forward to opening his pressies.  That’s why his amulet’s shining so bright.  And why do you think mine’s looking so dull?  I'll tell you why.  Guess who’s paying for his pressies?  Yeah, me!  That’s why I’m a grumpy old fox tonight.  I mean, having to buy presents would give anyone enough reason not to like Ronsinfest, wouldn’t it?”

            “Er, well, no, not really,” replied Leah.  “Not unless you were a right misery.  You wouldn’t deprive the little fella of his pressies, would you?”          (*temptatious – not a real word, but Gemma would use it as it would fit her mood)

            “Don’t put temptatious* thoughts into my mind Leah,” Gemma smiled.  “No, it’s not quite that.  I love Ronsinfest just as much as the next fox.  I’ll tell you why my amulet’s not shining so brightly tonight, Leah.  It’s because a certain person, who’s not exactly a million lightyears away, keeps on being evasive about a certain W.E.double -D I.N.G.” she said, nodding over towards Duke.

            “Wedding?” said Damien, working out what Gemma had just spelled out.

            “You’ve got it in one, Dames.  Every time I mention the W.E.double -D I.N.G. he changes the subject.”

            “Oh?  sho that’sh what’sh troubling you?  Well, maybe Tha Cubfather should have another word with him, eh?  What do you shay, Dollfache?” Damien smiled, slipping into his now-famous gangster persona.  “Maybe old Damien Dogfoxioli should go over dere and put a da pressure on him.  You know, threaten to ruffle his newshpaper a bit.  Put a bit too much milk in his tea?”

            “Rearrange his screwdrivers,” smiled Leah.

            “Eh?  What?”

            “In his toolbox,” Leah added, pointing towards the tool kit beside Duke’s seat.  “He gets really vexed when his screwdrivers aren't put back in the right order.”

            “Oh, ish that sho?  ’Shcushe me Gemma, I’ve jusht got a bit of shcrewdriver rearranging to do.” 

            “Screwdriver rearranging,” giggled Gemma.  “That’s really....Hey!  Wait!” she called after him, suddenly realising that he wasn’t joking like she thought he was and was actually making off towards Duke’s seat.  “Come here!  I don’t want any trouble tonight!” Gemma jumped to her back paws.  She ran over and dragged Damien back over by the tail.  “Wait until after Ronsinfest!  You can rearrange his screwdrivers then!”

            “O.K. Dollfache, whatever you shay,” replied Damien, returning to his seat.  “We’ll wait until after Ronshinfesht, then I'll short him out.  I’ll put the word out on the shtreet.  I’ll put a contract out on him.”

            “A contract?” said Gemma, looking a little uneasy.

            “’Eah, Dollfache - a contract.  A wedding contract!”

            “Phew!  Thank Ronsin for that!” Gemma sighed.  “I thought you were going to have him bumped off!”

            “Nah, he’sh not getting away that eashily, Dollfache.  He’sh in for a fate worshe than that.  He’sh gonna get married!”

            “Hey!  Watch it, Cheeky!” Gemma replied, giving her brother a light push on the shoulder.  “He’s getting married to me, remember?”

            “Yeah, I know!  That’sh what I meant!”

            “You do want to get some presents tomorrow, don’t you?”

            “Of course I do,” replied Damien, dropping the gangster act.

            “Well, shut up, then!  Any more derogatory remarks from you, young Damien Mildury, and you won’t be getting nowt!”

            “Won’t be getting nowt?” repeated Damien.  “That’s a double ne...a double ne...That’s a double no, isn’t it?  So, if you say I won’t be getting nowt, it means I must be getting summat!”

            “You will be getting summat before too long if you don't belt up,” growled Gemma.  “You’ll be getting a belt round the lug!  Now, shut it!"

            "Yeah, do me a favour Damien," added Duke.  "Take some notice of what your sister's saying and shut up, will ya?"

            "Huh!  That's rich coming from you," replied Gemma.  "You never take much notice of what I’m saying, never mind Damien!"

            "I'm trying to concentrate on this scanner.  That freighter, or whatever it is, is showing up on here.  It's still coming and going a bit, but it's still there."

            Leah heaved herself out of the alcove and wandered over to join him.  "Oh, I see it," she said, peering over his shoulder.  "I see what you mean about it coming and going.  It's like it's phasing in and out of reality."

            "Or it's a freighter with a faulty devisualiser grid," said Gemma.  "Is it putting out a transponder signature?"

            "No, that’s the strangest thing,” said Duke.  “It isn’t putting out a signature at all.  Neither transponder or engine signature."

            "But, it is registering as solid?"

            "Sporadically.  First it's there, then it's not.  Then it's back again."

            "Looks more like a computer glitch to me," said Gemma.  "If it was a freighter it would show up as being solid all the time, even if it wasn't putting out a transponder signature."

            "I don't think it's a computer glitch," said Damien, looking through the window.  "Whatever it is, you can see it!  Look!" He pointed towards a bright light shining in the sky.  It appeared to be coming from somewhere across the Reattic Sea, beyond the Satian Mountains.  "Hey, you don't think it's The Star of Ronsin, do ya?"

            "Er, no, I don't think so," replied Gemma.  "Not on Zenophon."

            "But I thought The Star of Ronsin could appear for Space Gypsies wherever they were?"

            "Well, that's the story.  But, I think in real life we have to be a bit more practical.  Ronsin's star’s over seventy three light years away from here.  It isn’t bright enough to be seen from Zenophon."

            "What's The Star of Ronsin?" asked Leah.

            "The Star of Ronsin?  Oh, it's just Space Gypsy religious stuff Leah," Gemma replied, waving her paw.  "It's a bit of a long story.  Too long to be of any interest to you."

            "Well, just give me the nine o'clock news headlines version!"

            "Eh? Oh, er….all right..er….if you’re sure,” Gemma gulped, not only wondering where to begin, but also wondering how to cut such a long story down to a bite-sized chunk.  "If you insist.  Er, let me think.  Well...er….it's like this…It’s…er…It’s said that about twenty seven thousand years ago, give or take a few days, some travellers were crossing the desert on our home planet when...."

            "Your home planet?" interrupted Leah.  "Space Gypsies don't have a home planet.  You just wander between the stars."

            "Ah!  But twenty seven thousand years ago we did have a home planet.  It was called Earthburrow…”

“Oh?  What happened to it?”

“Well, if you’ll let me speak, I’ll tell you!”

“Oh, sorry,” said Leah.  “I’ll keep quiet.”

“Right, well, twenty seven thousand years ago on our home planet, these travellers were trekking across the desert.  You see, huz Space Gypsies didn't start out as space dwellers.  Our ancestors were ordinary gypsies, moving from place to place on our home planet of Earthburrow.  However, that planet was destroyed when our sun went supernova....."

            "Ah, I see," said Leah.  Gemma held up a finger.  "Oh, sorry," she whispered.  "Do go on."

            "Luckily for huz, by the time the sun went bang our ancestors had developed space travel technology.  They were able to evacuate the planet."

            "And that's how Space Gypsies came about?" said Leah.

            "And that’s how Space Gypsies came about,” confirmed Gemma.  "The stones in Space Gypsy bioamulets are actually little pieces of rock from our home planet.  The heat from the supernova turned all the rock of our planet into glazed gemstones, and it was soon found that the stones had certain powers - healing powers.  They also reacted to changes in our bodies and our moods, etcetera."

            “Your chakra!” smiled Leah.

            “Our chakra,” replied Gemma.

            "I often wondered what all that bioamulet claptrap was about. And, I suppose these just work for Space Gypsies, do they?" said Leah, gently reaching over and taking hold of Gemma's amulet.  “Or, do they work for other people as....Oh!  Oooh!  What a strange feeling!" she said.

            "What?  What are you getting?" Gemma smiled.  "A tingling feeling?  Or, can you see something?"

            "Er, no, I er....I can't exactly see anything, er...Gemma.  But I am getting some kind of feeling.  No, no, hold on," Leah added, turning her head sideways as though she was trying to listen to something in the distance.  "It isn't a feeling.  It's a voice.  Yeah, it's a voice!" she smiled.  "I can hear a voice.  It's calling to me!"

            "A voice, you say?  Who is it?  What are they saying?"

            "It's a bit muffled.  I'm not really....hold on.  Yes, yes, it's coming through...It's...It's..."

            "Yeah?"

            Leah dropped the amulet and sank back into her seat, a rather shocked expression shooting across her face.  "It's my baby!" she said, sounding a little stunned.  "The amulet put me in contact with my baby!  Rekki," she called over to her husband.  "I've got some news for you."

            "Good news or bad?" asked Rekki, looking a little concerned.

            "Oh, definitely good!  You're going to have a daughter!"

            "What?" Rekki beamed.  "Are you serious?"

            "That amulet thing seemed to be!  It's told me I'm having a little girl!"

            "It didn't tell you when she was coming, did it?"

            “No, but I got the impression that it isn’t gonna be too long,” said Leah, patting her stomach.

            "Yeah, bioamulets aren't quite that specific," said Gemma.  "But, they are a bit of a nuisance when they give away secrets that you obviously didn't want to know."

            "I'm sorry?" said Rekki.  "I don't quite follow you."

            "Well, I'm guessing that Leah and yourself had told the midwife that you didn't want to know whether your baby was a boy or a girl before it was born?"

            "Well, that’s true," sighed Leah.  "We didn’t want to know.  But it doesn’t really matter.  I mean, after all," she added, giving her tummy a proud motherly pat, "it's the little girl herself telling me what she is, isn't it?"

            "Er, well, I suppose it is, if you wish to believe that," replied Gemma.  "Personally, I wouldn't take what the amulet has told you as being gospel.  Sometimes these things just tell you what you want to hear," she added, swinging the gem around on its chain like a hypnotist's watch.

            "You believe what you want to believe, Gemma," Leah replied.  "But I know that I heard a little girl's voice, and nothing you can say will make me think any different."

            "OK, as you wish. I shall say no more."

            “A little girl, eh?” said Leah, smiling to Rekki.  “Who’d have thought it?”

            “Let’s just hope it’s right,” her husband replied.

            “Oh, I’m sure it will be.  I’m beginning to have a bit more faith in these Space Gypsy trinkets of Gemma’s.”

            “Oh, is that so?” replied Gemma, a little indifferently.  “Starting to take me a bit more seriously now, are you?”

            “Now, hey, come on Gemma, no need to be prickly! I’m not trying to take the Mick.  I’m just a bit stunned by what I’ve just found out, that’s all.”

            “Oh, OK, fair enough,” replied Gemma. 

            "Anyway, I want to hear the rest of that story.”

            “What story?”

            “The story about the star."

            "Eh?  What?  Oh, yes, The Star of Ronsin!  Sorry, I'd forgotten.  I got a bit sidetracked for a moment there.  Right, where was I?"

            "Trekking across the desert."

            "Trekking across the desert,” replied Gemma thoughtfully, picking up on the thread of the story.  “Oh, Oh, yeah.  Well, as I was saying, before we were Space Gypsies our ancestors were ordinary gypsies, wandering from one place to another across the surface of our home planet.  And, one night a group of these gypsies were wandering around the foothills of the Mogavis Mountains when a bright light suddenly appeared in the sky.  The light wasn't like anything that they'd seen before.  It looked nothing like a moon or a meteor or a comet.  It seemed to move very quickly across the sky at first, and then it slowed down and settled just above the highest peak in the mountains.  It hovered there for a little while, and then the gypsies saw it descending and landing on the mountain.  Well, curiosity got the better of them, so they set off to climb the mountain - and it's said that it took them fourteen days and fourteen nights to climb through all the snow to get to the top of the peak.  But, when they finally got there they found...well, they found….they found what you might call, a Heavenly vixen cradling a new born fox cub.  This was the baby Ronsin and his mother, Mizathar.  When they realised what they'd found, the gypsies immediately bowed their heads and offered some gifts to Mizathar."

            "Oh?  What did they give her?" asked Leah.

            "Er...well, if memory serves me correctly," replied Gemma, trying her best to think back about fifteen years to her religious studies, "they gave her scented oils, jewellery and wine."

            "Scented oils, jewellery and wine?" scoffed Leah.  "Is that it?"

            "What do you mean?"

            "Well, couldn't they have given her something a bit more practical for the baby?  Something like a baby buggy or some bootees or a baby's bottle?  I mean, what good was wine and scented oils to a baby?"

            "It's all they had!" replied Gemma.  "I mean, we are talking about twenty seven thousand years ago here.  And they were on the top of a mountain!  They couldn't exactly nip across to Toddlercare to buy her a packet of nappies or a box of baby biscuits, could they?"

            "And that's another thing," smiled Leah.  "What the heck were they doing on top of a freezing cold mountain?"

            "They were divinely sent, weren't they?  From Eschaton on High!"

            "Yeah, I know.  But dropping them off on the top of a flippin' cold mountain!  It’s not exactly practical, is it?  I mean, how were they supposed to get down?  Abseil?  Ski?"

            "I don't know how they got down!" snapped Gemma.  "Maybe they jumped in a blooming cable car, or something!  Look, you did ask me to tell you the story, so I've told it you!  OK?"

            "Yeah, and a right load of old twaddle it was too!"

            "Well, that's your opinion!"

            "Now, hey, ladies!  Come on," said Duke.  "Back to your corners!  Maybe Gemma's story doesn't make a great deal of sense, but you did ask her to tell it, Leah."

            “Yeah!  Darn right!” said Gemma.

            "Yeah, OK Duke, you're right," sighed Leah.  "Sorry, Gemma.  I didn't mean to take the Mick."

            "Oh, that’s all right," Gemma sighed.  "Don’t think anything of it.  The story's generally accepted to be a load of old hogwash by some of huz Space Gypsies anyway.  Come to think of it, I don't think I've told the right ver…er…the right....wha....what's that?"  Gemma tailed off distractedly, her highly developed sense of hearing was picking up the feint sound of someone talking.  She cocked her head to one side and flicked her ear backwards.  The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere behind the counter.  "Can….can you hear that?" she asked.

            "Hear what?" asked Duke.

            "That noise.  It’s like somebody talking.  It seems to be coming from behind that counter.  Is the volume turned down on that scanner?"

            "Er, no, but the earpiece is still plugged in.  It cuts off the speaker."

            "Ah!  It’s the earpiece I can hear, then.  Unplug it and turn the speaker up a bit.  I think I can hear someone talking."  Duke did as he was told.  He unplugged the earpiece and turned up the volume on the scanner speaker.  Surely enough, a transmission was being picked up.  The signal was broken, and kept phasing in and out of range, but the voice on the message was unmistakably that of Fluff;

            "Help!  This is Fluff Catt," she was saying.  "I'm a Cattfelus shuttle trader.  My transporter’s in serious trouble.  I've been shot down by The Federal Alliance.  I've lost all my fuel and my nacelles are out whack.  I'm flying in on glider wings only.  I'm entering Zenophon airspace.  I claim immunity under The Zenophon and Bitlexian Peace Accord.  Please help me.  If someone doesn't help me soon I think I'm gonna crash.  Help!  This is Fluff Catt.  I'm a..." Click!  Duke muted the transmission.

            "It's a repeating signal," he explained. 

            “Yeah, and it's poor old Fluff!” said Gemma.  “We’ve got to do something to help her.  Is there any way we can contact her on that scanner?”

            “I’m not sure,” Duke replied.  “She’s putting out an automated message.  It might already be too late.”

            “Mmm, maybe - and maybe not,” said Gemma thoughtfully, studying the echo signal of Fluff's transporter on the scanner.  "Where there’s a signal, there’s hope.  I wonder why she’s not putting out a transponder code?"

            "I don't know," Duke replied.  "But I can tell you one thing," he added, a little more urgently.  "She's not alone.  There's another vessel up there behind her - and that one is putting out a transponder code."

            "Yeah, and look who it is,” said Gemma, a rather ominous tone slipping into her voice.  “It's The Alliance."

            “Yeah, and here comes that white stuff again!” said Duke, looking through the window at the snow, which was beginning to fall thickly again.  “One thing I do know for sure, you always get a white Christmas in Drakester!”

 

–

 

            "We've almost caught up with her, Guv," Bones was saying.  "She's just coming up on the Satian Mountains."

            "We'd better grab her quickly, then," Spiker replied.  "Her pals' spaceport's only about sixty miles across the sea from here.  If she makes it there there'll be nothing we can do."

            "We're not really supposed to be doing anything here now anyway," Bones replied.  "We're breaking intergalactic law just by being in Zenophon’s space, never mind Zenophon's airspace.  If we arrest her here we could end up in a right load of trouble."

            "Oh, is that right?" sniggered Spiker.  "And who would you rather be answering to on Monday morning?  The Chief Superintendent for letting her go, or a bunch of doddery old collies on the Zenophon Galactic Council for arresting her?"

            "Er...I don't think I'd like to be answering to anybody, Guv," Bones replied.  "But if I was forced to pick between the two, I think I'd go for the doddery old collies."

            "That's the spirit.  Are we within tractor beam range yet?"

            "Just coming into range now, Guv."

–

 

            "Miss Fluff," called Fluff's on-board computer.  "The Federal Alliance have followed us into Zenophon airspace.  They are now attempting to lock on to us with a tractor beam."

            "Yeah, so I see," Fluff replied, a little distractedly.  She was entering data into the console in front of her.  "We're almost at the spaceport.  I'm taking us down another couple of hundred feet.  That should keep us out of the range of their tractor beam until we get there."

            "Recommend you review your decision, Miss Fluff.  Our current altitude is too low for clearing the Drakester cliff face."

            "Eh?  Oh, yeah! I'd forgotten that that blasted spaceport was built on a cliff!  What a stupid place to put it!  Never mind.  Twit, I can't see a darn thing through this front visor shield.  There’s too much snow.  You’re going to have to take us in on sensors.  When we get near to the cliff, lift us up and settle us down on the runway."

            "The chances of that plan succeeding are.....”

            “Don’t tell me the odds, Twit.  Just do it!”

 

–

 

            "Where is that stupid cat going?" cried Spiker, watching Fluff's transporter dipping dangerously close to the sea.

            "Looks like she's gonna ditch in the sea Guv," Bones replied.  "She surely can't still be heading for the spaceport at that level?  She'll crash into the cliff face!"

            Spiker gave an irritated sigh.  "Oh, take us down after her!  Grab hold of her with the bloomin' tractor beam before she kills her stupid self!  The stupid moggy!  I thought cats hated water?"

            "This one doesn't seem to be too bothered by it, Guv."

            "Yeah, that's apparent.  She's more slippery than a bloomin' fish!  If she ditches in the sea we'll have both the Chief Superintendent and the doddery old collies on our backs!"

            "Aye, Guv.  And I don't fancy that.  Hold on tight, I’m taking us down.”

 

–

 

            In the café, Gemma, Duke and Leah gave a gasp as Fluff's transporter disappeared from the scanner.

            "Oh no!" Leah cried.  "She's crashed!"

            "No, maybe not," Duke replied.  "If she's gone below the level of the cliff she might not show up on this scanner.  It can’t get a reading through the rock."

            "There's only one way to find out if she's done that," replied Gemma, grabbing her jacket.  "We'll have to go out there and have a look."

            "But it's an absolute blizzard out there tonight," replied Leah.  "You'll freeze to death!"

            "Oh, this is a good warm jacket and I've got plenty fur on my back! Besides, Fluff's a very good friend of mine."

            "Well, if you're going out there, I'm coming with you," Leah announced.

            "Oh, no you're ruddy not!" Gemma snapped.  "I know you're sick and tired of hearing this Leah, but I'm gonna to say it one more time - and I bloomin' well mean it - a lady in your position shouldn't be going outside on a night like this.  Anyway, you'll be of much more use to huz in here.  You can man...er...er...woman the comlink.  See if you can get through to Fluff.  Tell her she needs to get that nose back up on that transporter on hers by a couple of hundred feet."

            "Oh...er...all right Gemma," Leah sighed.  "If you insist."

            "I do.  Duke, you're with me."

            "Yes, Sir, Sergeant, Sir," replied Duke, saluting her.  "Coming on the double, Sir.  Reporting for duty."

            "What can I do?" asked Damien.

            "You can just stay here and keep out of trouble," his sister replied.  "Get those mucky forepaws washed and give Leah some help if she needs it."

            "Oh, OK," he moped, feeling a little put out.

 

–

 

            Gemma and Duke stepped through the café doorway.  The wind was gaining strength again, blowing deep drifts of snow across the runway.

            "It'll be a miracle if she makes it down in this!" shouted Gemma above the wail of the wind.  "You can't even see the runway!"

            "I'll get control to whack up the heating on the anti-snow pads," Duke replied.  "That'll help to melt some of it.”  He tapped the button on his com-badge;  "Er, yeah, this is Duke to control," he called.  "Any chance you can turn up the heating on the anti-snow pads by a few hundred degrees?"

            "It's already up as far as it'll go Duke," came a lady cat's reply.  "The snow's coming down too quickly for us to disperse it."

            "Oh, OK.  Thanks anyway."  Duke turned to Gemma.  "They say it's already....."

            "Yeah, I know," Gemma replied.  "I heard.  Oh, blast!" she then added with a note of dismay, looking past Duke.  She saw that Damien had blatantly disobeyed her orders, and was making his way through the café doorway.  "Does that stupid cub never listen to a word I say?"  She growled.  She cupped her forepaws around her muzzle and shouted over to him;  "Damien!  Get back in that café!"

            "But Gemma!" he called back.

            "Now! Damien!" she ordered.  "Get back in there now!"

            "But I....."

            "I'm not going to argue with you, you stupid cub!  Get back in there and....Damien!  Don't step on the....."

            Too late.  Before Gemma could stop him, Damien had stepped onto the runway.  Immediately, he recoiled in pain.  Because the heating had been turned up to maximum on the anti-snow pads, the surface of the runway was now extremely hot.  Damien had burned his back paw.  He was now jumping about in pain, stomping his paw into the cooling snow;

            "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow-ow-ow OW!" he was shouting.  "What the heck was that?  Why's the runway so blooming hot?"

            Gemma dashed over towards him, neatly avoiding the heated parts of the runway.  "I told you to stay in the café, didn't I?" she scalded.  "You stupid cub!  Why don't you ever listen to me?"

            "Because I was worried about Auntie Fluff.  Is she OK?"

            "I don't know.  She hasn't landed yet.  Are you OK?"

            "I think so," replied Damien, fanning his paw.  "I think it took me more by surprise than anything else.  Why's the runway hot?"

            "To melt the snow, of course, you nitwit!  Come here." Gemma grabbed hold of Damien's back paw, tipping him backwards into the snow.

            "Gemma, what are you doing?" he asked.

            "I'm looking to see if you've burned your paw.  No, it doesn't look too bad.  You might get a blister, though.  I don't know!  You silly cub!  Trust you to step on to a heated runway!  Didn't you notice the steam rising from it?”

            "Er, no.  I thought it was fog."

            "And how often do you get fog when it's snowing?"

            "Er...not often," he grinned, cubbishly.

            "Yeah! Not often!  Come here, you silly fox," Gemma sighed.  "Come with me."  She unbuttoned her jacket and allowed her little brother to shelter under it, rather like a mother bird sheltering it's young with her wing.  "Let's go and see if Fluff's still in one piece."  They walked over towards the crash barrier where Duke was standing.  “Here’s young Damien,” said Gemma.  “He’s come hot foot over from the café!”

            “Oh, yeah!  Very funny!” Damien replied.

            “Can you see anything yet?” Gemma asked Duke.

            “Yeah, I can see something out there," he replied.  "It keeps coming and going.  It's a bit difficult to see with all this snow."

            “Hang on, wait a minute,” said Gemma rummaging around in her pockets.  “These might help,” she said, producing what looked like a small pair of binoculars.  Duke took them and raised them to his face. 

            "Hey, these are neat Gemma,” he said.  “I can see her – just.  She's not showing up very well.  But, it's Fluff all right.  I can see the markings on her transporter."

            "What are those?" asked Damien, pointing towards the binoculars.

            "They’re night vision goggles,” explained Gemma.  “They work on infra red.  They pick up anything that gives off heat."

            "Yeah, and they also look a bit like the ones I was wanting for Christmas!"

            "Er....Yeah,” replied Gemma, clearing her throat slightly.  “Er...Consider them well and truly tested!"

            "Ruddy cheek!  She buys me a bloomin' Christmas present and then gives it to somebody else!"

            "We’re only borrowing them Damien," said Gemma.  "We need to see what’s going on out there."

            "Yeah, she’s still coming in a bit low," reported Duke.  "There's something else behind her as well.  I think it’s The Alliance.  Yeah, it is.  They're coming at her full throttle.  They're showing up well enough in these goggles.  They're putting out plenty of heat.  Fluff's hardly producing any heat at all."

            "Nah, she won’t be," replied Gemma.  "On the message she said she was just using her glider wings."

            "Mmm, but she's still too low to clear the cliff face.”

“You’d better get on the com-link to Leah.  Tell her to tell Fluff to get that transporter’s nose up."

            "Will do," Duke replied.

            Gemma took a look through the goggles.  "What is that Alliance vessel doing?” she said.  “Oh, blast these stupid things," she added, patting the side of them.  "I can't get them to zoom properly."

            "Here, give me them to me!" said Damien.  "Sisters!  I don't know!  When it comes to technology you're blooming useless!"  He took a look through the goggles.  Not far behind Fluff's transporter, flying at a height just above it, Damien could see the Alliance vessel.  He pressed the zoom button on the top of the goggles.  The image of the vessel became more clear.  In fact, it almost filled his field of vision.  It was a Federal Alliance battle transporter.

            "Blimey!  That's big!" he said.  "They must really have it in for Auntie Fluff!  They're chasing her with a Federal Alliance battleship!"

            "A battleship?" said Gemma.  "It can't be!"

            "Here, take a look for yourself." Damien pawed over the goggles to his sister.

            Gemma took a look.  "Blimey, you're right!  And what's that they're doing?  They’re locking a tractor beam on to her.  Oh, It isn’t pulling her up, though.  They’re trying to push her down!  What are they trying to do, the stupid devils?”

“Well, if you ask me, I’d say they were trying to push her under the water,” replied Duke.

 

–

 

            On board the Federal Alliance craft, a major malfunction had thrown the vessel into disarray.

            "Bones, what are you doing?" Spiker was shouting.  "You're supposed to be pulling Fluff aboard, not trying to drown her!"

            "Yeah, I know Guv," Bones replied.  "But it would seem that one of the shots she fired at us earlier on has affected the tractor beam's targetting emitter.  It's pushing downwards instead of pulling upwards."

            "Well, disengage the bloomin’ beam then, you idiot!  And while you're at it, get our nose up!  We're heading straight for the spaceport!"

            "Eh?  Oh, ruddy heck!  Yeah, Guv, right.  Disengaging the beam.  Pulling her nose up."

.

–

 

            As Gemma watched the two vessels through the goggles, she noticed the Alliance cruiser had disengaged the tractor beam. 

            "They've unlocked the tractor beam," she said.  "Tell Leah to tell Fluff to get that vessel's nose up."

            "Leah isn't able to reach Fluff," Duke replied.  "It looks like the comlink isn't working."

            "That blasted Alliance!  Well, in that case, I think we'd better get out of here!  There's not a great deal more we can do."

            As Duke, Gemma and Damien began to make their way to safety along the snowy verge of the runway, the landing strip lights came on. 

            "I think we'd better get a bit further back," said Duke.  "If we hang about around here for much longer we could get sucked in by the wind behind Fluff's transporter as she comes in to land."

            "Yeah, that is if she makes it this far," replied Gemma.

            A few moments later they caught sight of both the Alliance vessel and Fluff's transporter again.  Once again the Alliance had Fluff's vessel locked in their tractor beam.  This time her vessel was moving upwards.   They were pulling the transporter towards them.

            "Huh!  Now they’re pulling her transporter upwards!” said Gemma.  “I bet that poor little devil doesn't know whether she's coming or going!" After a few more seconds the tractor beam dispersed.  Again, Fluff's transporter began to lose altitude.

            "It's dropped her again," said Duke, looking through the goggles.

            "What the heck are they trying to do?  Kill her?" asked Gemma.

            "I'm not sure.  But, I think they're in trouble themselves.  Look!"

            Gemma didn't need the goggles to see the plumes of smoke which were beginning to billow from the Alliance vessel.  It was obviously on fire. 

            "Hey, hey!  I don't know what Fluff's done to that thing," she said, "but obviously she's given it a good hiding!  They're on fire!"

            After a few more seconds Gemma’s sensitive ears caught the sound of the Alliance vessels engines.  They were spluttering erratically.  The vessel was in obvious trouble, and it too seemed to be dipping too low for a proper clearance of the cliff face.

            Before she could think about what she was doing, Gemma found herself thumping on Duke's combadge, almost knocking the wind out of him;  “Control,” she said.  “This is Gemma.  Call out the crash tenders.  There’s a Federal Alliance vessel and a shuttle transporter in distress coming in on your main runway – and I don’t think they're gonna make it.”

            “We've already got them on positive track, Miss Gemma,” replied the lady cat in the control room.  “Crash crews have been advised.  The Federal Alliance vessel is gaining height.  It might make it.  But, I don’t think the transporter’s going to make it.  It’s heading for the cliff face.”

            “I blooming hope not!  Fluff's on there!”

            “Sorry Miss Gemma, her trajectory is just too low.”

            Without a second thought for her own safety, Gemma dashed over to the crash barrier at the end of the runway.  She watched in horror as Fluff’s transporter appeared to lose more and more altitude, dipping below the cliff face. 

            “Come on Fluff, get your nose up,” she said, holding out her arms in front of her and making upwards motions with her forepaws.  “GET THAT NOSE UP!!!.”

            With a deafening whoosh the Federal Alliance vessel flew right over Gemma's head, the ensuing thwack of wind almost tore the jacket from her back.  The craft cleared the spaceport and disappeared into the darkness.  Then there was silence.  For a few terrible moments – moments which seemed like years to Gemma, Fluff's transporter stayed below the eye-line of the runway.  Then, at the very last moment, it lunged upwards, striking the very lip of the cliff edge near to Gemma, sending huge lumps of soil into the air.  It tore a large chunk out of the top of the cliff, ripped out a section of the crash barrier, and totally destroyed the spaceports 'welcome' sign, sending a terrific display of sparks into the night air.  The vessel then hit the runway, nose first, with an almighty crash.  The front section of undercarriage tore itself free from its mountings and was sent hurtling in Gemma’s direction.  Gemma just managed to dive out of the way as a huge set of flaming wheels went flying over her head, bounced off what was left of the crash barrier and then disappeared over the cliff edge.  Gemma scrambled along the bank and peered over the cliff just in time to see the still-burning wheels disappearing into the sea with an almighty splash and a loud hiss.  Meanwhile, the transporter that they had been ripped from had not yet come to rest.  It was tearing up chunks of the runway, depositing its payload of shuttles as it went.  Three rather puny looking parachutes – which were part of the vessels anti-crash system – inflated themselves in a feeble attempt to slow the craft down.  But these were very quickly burned away by a fierce fire which erupted from somewhere beneath the vessel.  Inside the spaceport, customers in the café panicked and ran for their lives as they saw the nose cone of the transporter heading in their direction at an alarming rate.  Gemma, Damien and Duke also thought that the vessel was going to strike the building.  They covered their eyes and crouched down behind some dump bins, waiting for what they thought was the inevitable crash as the transporter neared the café.  But nothing happened.  The loud smashing of plate glass that they had expected to hear did not occur.

            The three of them stayed crouched for a few moments until they were absolutely sure that the vessel had come to rest.  The sound of grating metal ceased – and was replaced by a kind of eery quietness.  Nothing could be heard for a few seconds except for the sound of something hissing on the transporter.

            Duke, Damien and Gemma opened their eyes.  The transporter had indeed come to a halt.  From where they were crouched, they could see that the vessel had stopped just short of the huge café front window.  What they couldn't see from their position was just how close the vessel had actually come to smashing the window.  The tip of the spike on the nose cone had stopped just two inches short of penetrating the glass.

            As flames from the fire at the rear of the craft began licking along the side towards the front, Duke and Gemma dashed over to see if there was anything they could do.  Damien wanted to help too, but Gemma packed him off with a quick slap on the rear end.  The slap wasn’t hard enough to hurt him, but it was enough to let him know that this was one occasion when it was probably best to do as he was told. 

            Just as they neared Fluff’s transporter Duke and Gemma were stopped in their tracks by a rather abrupt;  “Oy!  Where d’you think you two are going?”

            They turned round to see a rather burly angry looking fire dog approaching them.  “We're going to see if we can rescue the pilot,” Duke answered.

            “Oh, no you’re not!” came the reply.  “That’s our job.  You just get yourself back behind those dump bins where you came from and stay out of the way.”

            “But, she’s a friend of ours!  She might be trapped!”

            “Yeah!  And if you two go in there, you might both end up being trapped with her!” growled the dog.  “So, get your tails back behind those bins!”

            “I pay your wages, you know!” scowled Duke as he and Gemma made a rather reluctant retreat.

            “All the more reason for you to get back behind those bins!” the dog barked back.  “How am I going to feed my family next week if my so-called employer gets his daft self burned alive inside that thing?”

            “You’re sacked!” replied Duke, waving a dismissive arm in the air.

            “Yeah, whatever,” replied the dog.  "And a Merry Christmas to you as well," he added, knowing full well that Duke’s irrational outburst was just an outlet for his concern over his friend.

            While this altercation was taking place, the fire surpressors arrived.  They hovered above the transporter, quickly dousing the flames below with a foam-like material called fire sufficant.  The sufficant hardened like cake icing on the vessel, completely suffocating the fire.

            "Oh, brilliant!" said Duke.  "That's all I wanted for Christmas!  A huge Christmas cake in the shape of a shuttle transporter blocking the main runway!"

            "Yeah, that stuff's done a great job of putting the fire out," said Gemma.  "But it's left huz with a problem - where's the pilot's door?"

            "That's not for you to worry about, young lady!" yelled the Chief Fire Dog.  "Now, are you gonna get back behind those bins or do I have to drag you there by the tail myself?"

            "All right!  All right!  I'm going!" scowled Gemma.  "No need to be so blooming rude!  I was just wondering how you were going to find the pilot's door on that huge fairy cake, that's all!"

            "We wash the sufficant off with a high pressure hose.  And, if you don't get out of the way, we'll be turning that hose on you!"

            "Oh, OK!  I'm gone!"

            A troop of fire dogs dragged the huge hose from the back of one of the crash tenders.  However, before they were able to hook it up, they heard a banging noise coming from inside the crashed transporter.  Gemma noticed what looked like a panel vibrating near the front of the craft.  “What’s that?” she said.

The panel banged and vibrated a little more before finally falling off and landing in the snow with a soft, foam-laiden 'flump'.  The panel was actually a door.  It was the door to the pilot's cab, and it had been helped on its way by a small pair of furry back paws.  Both Duke and Gemma were relieved to see that these paws were white in colour.  They were soon followed by a furry pair of black legs and a leather-clad rear end.  This was adorned in the unmistakable trademark of a certain cat's twin studded leather belts.  Fluff was trying her best to clamber down from her craft.

            "Well, don't just stand there with your whiskers growing!" she growled to her audience.  "Come and lend me a paw."

            The fire dogs dropped their hose and ran over to Fluff's aid.  Duke and Gemma came running too, ignoring the protestations of the Chief Fire Dog.

            "Ah!  It’s nice to see an old face again," said Duke to Fluff, gazing quite unashamedly at her derriere.

            "Can it, Duke!" growled Gemma, giving him a rather jealous jab in the ribs with her elbow.

            "Ooops, sorry," he replied, rubbing his side.  "I'd forgotten that I wasn't allowed to look at any other females now that I'm spoken for."

            "No, you're not," Gemma sneered.  "So, just think on!"

            "Ooh, she loves me all the time," he smiled to Damien, who had decided that it was probably safe enough to come back over now without provoking Gemma's wrath. He’d followed Duke over to Fluff's transporter and was now standing smiling at Fluff's attempts to disembark.  The doorway was just a little way above his head, and it amused him to watch Fluff's back paw bobbing up and down and backwards and forwards in front of his face, the toes reaching downwards, obviously feeling for a step that was no longer there.  He toyed with the idea of tickling the paw, but decided against it as Fluff had probably gone through enough for one day.  Instead, he decided to be the little gentleman that he was.  He pulled a set of stepladders across from one of the nearby crash tenders and placed them just under Fluff's back paw.  Fluff's paw gratefully found the steps and were soon followed by the rest of the little cat.  When she finally reached the ground, she stood digging her toes into the snow for a few seconds, smiling gratefully.

            "Oooh, I never thought that I would be so pleased to feel snow beneath my back paws!" she said.  "Oooh, thank you!  Thank you very much!"  She gave Duke a tearful smile and flung her arms around him.  "And it's nice to see you as well!" she added. 

            Duke held his arms up for a second, looking slightly hesitantly over towards Gemma, hoping for a look of approval, which Gemma reluctantly gave.  "Yeah, and it's great to see you, too," Duke replied, cuddling the little cat.

            Damien nodded his head towards the two, giving Gemma a rather nonplussed look. 

            "Oh, don't worry, Dames," said his sister.  "He'll be allowed the odd extra-marital cuddle every now and then.  You know, in exceptional circumstances like this.  It’s only when he gets that wedding noose around his ne...er...er...I mean, when he gets that wedding ring round his finger that any other kind of cuddling will be copyrighted Gemma Mildury.  - And Ronsin help his furry little hide if he ever goes against that!” she added, whispering behind her forepaw.

            Fluff let go of Duke and then gave Gemma a cuddle.  She then motioned towards Damien, who backed away.  "And what's wrong with you?" she asked.  "Aren't you pleased to see me?"

            "Yeah, of course I am," Damien replied.  "I just don't go in for all that kissing and cuddling stuff, that's all."

            "Oh, shut up and come here," replied Fluff, sweeping him right off his back paws with a hug.  "You've got not objections to being cuddled by Jehlise, have you?"

            "Well, I have," Damien groaned, thinking to himself that Fluff was pretty strong for a cat.  "It's just that she never listens!"

            "Er Young Man," said the Chief Fire Dog to Damien.  "Excuse me for interrupting,  er...but it would seem that one or two of your friends have come over to watch.  Can you get them back to the safety of the supermarket please?"

            "Er...Sorry.  Are you talking to me?" asked Damien, breathing a sigh of relief at being dropped by Fluff.

            "Yeah, I am.  Some of your friends are coming out of the supermarket.  Can you go and get them back in, please?  Just for their own safety?"

            Damien looked around.  He saw that a number of the children who had come to attend the Freshway’s Christmas party had stepped out through the shop doors, probably wondering what was going on.

            "Oh, I wasn't with that party," explained Damien.  "Auntie Fluff’s a friend of mine."

            "Yeah, but you know most of the kids in there, don’t you, Damien? " said Gemma.  "So, why don't you go over there and join them?  Go and give Jehlise her Christmas kiss!”

            "Christmas kiss?" exclaimed Damien.  “Blyeauk!!”

            “Well, just go on over and have a bit of fun!  There’s nothing more you can do here.”

            "Oh, all right, then.  Anyway, Father Christmas told me he’s got a present for me.”

“Well, there you go, then!” smiled Gemma.  “All the more reason for you to go and see him!”

“Yeah, all right.  See you later.  ‘Bye!  'Bye, Auntie Fluff."

            "'Bye, Damien.  Thanks for your help," replied Fluff.

            "Don't mention it."  And with that, Damien ran off towards the Freshway’s superstore, herding up stray kids as he went.

            "Well, at least I haven't spoiled his Christmas," said Fluff, smiling as she watched him disappearing through the shop doors.  "I hope he has a good time."

            "Oh, he'll have a good time all right," replied Gemma.  "Jehliese's in there, Mm Mm," she added, making a kissing motion with her lips.  “I’ve no doubt he’ll be coming out of there with a huge smile on his face - or, at least, Jehlise will!  Right, come on you," she said to Fluff, offering her her arm for support.  "Let's get you over to the café.  You look like you could do with a good strong cuppa."

            "Yeah, or a good strong something else," smiled Fluff.  "For a while there I didn't think I was going to make it."

            "So, what happened?" asked Gemma, as she and Duke guided Fluff down the walkway towards the café.

            "Oh, it was that blasted Bones and Spiker!  They shot me down!  They were convinced that I was carrying two stolen shuttles.”

“And were you?” smiled Gemma.

“Well, I was,” Fluff replied, a little guiltily.  “But, I didn’t know it at the time.  I got them off Jimmy DaWeasel.”

“Oh! I might have known!” said Gemma, slapping her forepaw against her head.  “Go on!”

“Well, I told them to follow me down here to inspect the paperwork, but they wouldn't have it.  Did you see where they landed, by the way?  They flew right over me and then disappeared."

            "Yeah, they flew right over me too,” said Gemma.  “They came so close they nearly ripped the blooming clothes off my back!  They seemed to be heading for Drakester.  They were on fire as they went over."

            "Good," said Fluff.  "At least I got one good shot in at them.  They've wrecked my bloomin' transporter!" she added, turning in the café doorway to survey what was left of her vessel.  "And just look at that runway!" she said, holding out her forepaws.  "Oooh!  And the crash barrier!…..And…And that beautiful welcome sign!  It’s wrecked!  I used to look forward to seeing that sign after a long journey!  Now it’s gone!  Oh! Duke! I'm so sorry!"

            "Hey, don't worry about me!" Duke replied.  "I don't own the runway!  I don’t own the sign either.  All that stuff belongs to the spaceport authority."

            "Oh, heck!  They'll come at me for the damages!"

            "No they won't!  Now, come on, Fluff," said Duke soothingly.  "Don't you start worrying yourself about things like that.  The spaceport authorities'll have recorded everything that happened tonight on their scanners.  They'll see that Spiker was in the wrong and you were in the right.  Anyway," he added, placing a reassuring forepaw on her shoulder, "Zenophon is neutral territory.  The Alliance shouldn't have been here in the first place."

 

–

           

            Fluff’s entrance to the café was heralded with a large gust of wind and a huge flurry of snow.  The flourescent light above Leah swung around on its mountings, flickering momentarily.

            “Blimey, Fluff!” Leah smiled.  “You certainly know how to make an entrance!”

            “Oooh, you ain't seen nothing yet,” Fluff smiled.  “Come here.”  She went running over and gave her friend a big hug.  “You, as well,” she ordered to Rekki.  “Come here.  Let's make it a foursome.”

            Rekki did as he was told.  “A foursome?” he asked, trying his best to breathe through Fluff's smoky leathers. 

            “Yeah, you, me, Leah and the baby,” said Fluff, placing her forepaw carefully on Leah's stomach.  The baby gave a kick, right on cue.  "Oooh!  Hey!  I felt that!" she smiled.

            "Er, yeah!  So did I," replied Leah.  “I felt it quite strongly.”

            “Won’t be long now, eh?”

            “Oh, I’ve been told it’s gonna be another week.  It looks like she’s gonna be a New Year baby.”

            “She?” asked Fluff.  “So, you know it's a she?  You’re having a little girl?”

            “Well, according to Gemma’s amulet, I am.”

            “Bah!  Gemma’s amulet!”  Fluff sniffed.  “You don’t wanna believe what that old thing tells you!  I’ve got one of those Space Gypsy amulets.  It can’t even predict that two o’clock follows one o’clock!  They’re useless!”

            “That’s because you’re not a Space Gypsy,” replied Gemma.  “You’ll never get it to work properly for you if you don’t have Space Gypsy blood in your veins.”

            “Leah hasn’t got Space Gypsy blood in her veins, but she seems to think that it's worked for her.”

            “That’s because the amulets’ chain was still around my neck when she got the message.”

            “Ah, well, in that case, maybe it’s your baby she saw, Gemma!”

            “Hah!  Fat chance of that!” laughed Gemma.  “No, the baby’s definitely Leah’s, Fluff.  You can take my word for it.”

            “Well, in that case, I wish you well with it,” said Fluff, clasping her forepaws around Leah’s.  "I wish you all the luck in the universe."

            "Why, thank you, Fluff," replied Leah, giving a little smile.

            “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’d better make use of the little kitten’s room," said Fluff, sniffing under her jacket.  "I stink!”

            “Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything Fluff, but you have caught the smell of the fire a bit on your clothes.”

            “Mmm, I know I have.  It's absolutely ruined them!  And that’s left me with a problem."

            "How's that?" asked Gemma.

            "Well, you see, all of my clothes were on Fluff One.  In fact, all of my possessions were on Fluff One - and that’s nothing but a big cinder now.  All I’ve got left is what I’m standing up in.  So, what can I do?”

            "Mmm, you do have a problem," said Leah.  "Don’t you have any money on you?"

            Fluff turned out her pockets.  "Er....I've got about twenty six zents, a chewing gum wrapper and a and a sweet shop receipt.  I'm not gonna get very far with those, am I?"

            "Not really,” replied Leah, thoughtfully.  “OK, look, I'll tell you what I'll do.  Duke," she called to her brother, "pass me that catalogue please."

            "Eh?  Oh, this one?" said Duke, picking up a thick glossy book from the café counter.

            "Yeah, that's it.  Right, Fluff.  This is the catalogue for Freshway’s clothes department.  You just write down exactly what you want - catalogue numbers, sizes, etcetera - and I'll get one of the girls to nip down there and get it for you."

            "What about money?" Fluff asked.

            "You can pay us back when you get it.  In the meantime, I'll give you a spaceport credit docket.  You can use it to get whatever you need from the spaceport shops."

            "Leah, you are a diamond.  A true friend."

            "Oh, never mind all that mushy stuff!  Just get writing!  I'm gonna sit down again.  Take the weight off my back paws.  All this running around's making my back ache."

            "Yeah, you should be taking it easy," said Gemma.  "You're getting a bit too near to your time to be running around too much."

            "Well, these are rather exceptional circumstances, Gemma.  I mean, it isn't every day that we nearly get a shuttle transporter smashing through our front window!"          

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," said Fluff, a little sadly.  "As soon as I get myself sorted out I’ll get it shifted."

            "I'll arrange to have it shifted," replied Duke.  "You just concentrate on pulling yourself together."

            "Oh, thank you, Duke.  That's most kind.  In that case, I'll just get myself cleaned up and I'll be on my way.  I'll use this docket to get a transporter over to Cattfelus and I'll......"

            "You most certainly will not!" said Duke.  "You'll stay yourself here!  You're not going anywhere, Lady!  You've had a pretty bad time of it today.  You're staying here with us tonight.  I insist"

            "What?  Er, well, thank you Duke," said Fluff appreciatively.  “But really, I can't. I've arranged to meet up with my brothers and sisters on Cattfelus tomorrow evening."

            "That's tomorrow evening," growled Duke.  "For the time being, you can be our guest."

            "But, it's Christmas Eve!  Tomorrow's Christmas Day!"

            "So?"

            "So, that means I'll be imposing on you for Christmas!"

            "What?" Duke laughed.  "Fluff, you're our friend!  You won't be imposing on us!  And anyway, this is a spaceport!  It's designed to take guests!"

            "Yeah, but I think you’re overlooking one small thing," smiled Gemma.  "It’s a full spaceport.  It's a spaceport with no room left.  It's just like that old Christmas story.  There's no room at the inn."

            “Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten about that,” grumbled Duke.

            "Oh, well, if the spaceport's full," said Fluff, "I'd better get booking my ticket.  I won't be able to stay here tonight."

            "Oh, I'm sure we'll be able to fit you in."

            "Well, to be honest with you Duke, I can't see where," said Leah, checking the spaceports chalet register.  "We're all booked up."

            "Ah.  Well, er....in that case," said Duke, rolling his eyes thoughtfully and stroking his chin, "Er...Fluff can stay....er...she can stay...she can stay in my flat!"

            "What?" said Gemma, shooting Duke a very forbidding look.

            "She...er...she can stay in...er...my flat," he added, in a slightly smaller voice.

            "Oh?  Is that right?" said Gemma, placing her forepaws on her hips.  "And where, can I ask, are you going to stay tonight?"

            Duke thought carefully before he answered that one.  Even through Gemma's blouse he could see that her bioamulet was burning bright, bright red.  "Mmm, bright, bright red!" he thought to himself.  "Danger sign!  Better watch what you say here, Dukey Boy!"

            "I'm waiting," she said, tilting her head to one side and raising an eyebrow.

            "Er...well, if Fluff's going to stay in my flat I...er...I....I...I thought I’d get a few things together and...er...and...er...and come over to The Rapscallion for the night!" 

            Gemma's forepaws slipped off her hips.  Her jaw dropped open like it was on a heavy metal hinge.  Rekki had to quickly scuttle out of the way as she sloped backwards and landed heavily on the seat where he had just been sitting.

            "Er....that is, if it's OK?" Duke smiled.

            "OK?" whimpered Gemma.  "OK?  I'll say it's OK!  It's ruddy marvellous!"

            "Yeah, he could sleep in Damien's bed," suggested Rekki.  Gemma shot him a rueful look.  "Just a suggestion, that's all," he said, holding up his forepaws.

            "No, I think Damien's bed might be a bit too small," said Duke.

            "Oh, it is, it is!" smiled Gemma.  “It’s tiny!  Damien’s almost outgrown it – and he’s knee high to a midge!  Your backpaws would be sticking right out of the bottom!”

            "Besides, I think the little fella would feel a bit put out, especially on Christmas Eve."

            "Oh, he would, he would!  He’d be dreadfully put out!"

            "So…… I'll..er…I’ll…er….I think I’ll sleep on the flight deck," decided Duke.  "That way I won't be putting anybody out."

            "Oh, right,” replied Gemma, a little quietly.  “OK, as you wish.”  She then smiled and added; “We can both watch the stellycast of Drakester City Cathedral Clock chiming in Christmas together on the viewscreen.”

            “Sounds nice,” said Duke.

            “Sounds cosy,” said Rekki.

“Sounds romantic,” smiled Leah.

            "Yeah, but I don’t wish to put anyone out," said Fluff.  "Especially at Christmas.  You can have your flat, Duke.  Thanks for the offer.  But, I think I'll just get myself cleaned up and I'll catch the next transporter over to Cattfelus."

            "Oh, no you won't!" said Gemma, dashing round and almost pinning the poor little cat to the wall.  "You’ll take Duke's flat, just like he’s offered."

            "Er…er..OK, OK!  If it's all right with you, er...Gemma.  If you insist!"

            "Oh, I do.  I do!  I insist very much!"

            "Oh, OK, OK, if you’re going to put it like that, Gemma.  I accept!”

“Good.”

“Er… here's the things I'd like out of that catalogue Leah," Fluff added, gingerly pawing over a small list.

"Oh, right, Fluff.  Ah, let me see," said Leah.  "Two blouses, size three, two medium leather slacks, one leather ladies longline cable jacket, two pairs of...yeah, and two leather studded belts, size medium."

            "What's with all the leather, Fluff?" Duke asked.

            "Style, Dukey Boy, style!" Fluff smiled.

            "It isn't real leather, is it?"

            "Certainly not!  I wouldn't advocate such stuff!  No, it's Cattfelus leather.  It's as near to real leather as you can get without harming anything.  It's actually grown on trees, believe it or not!"

            "Huh!  Leather trees!" sniffed Leah.  "Whatever next?  Oh, here's Sue-Lynn coming on duty,” she added, noticing a small road shuttle drawing up outside.  “That’s good timing!  I'll get her to get these things for you.  You go and get yourself cleaned up!"

            "Okey, dokey, Leah," smiled Fluff.  "I'll sort myself out in the ladies' shower room."

            Fluff pushed the door open to the shower room, leaving a large dirty black paw print on the handle.  "Oh, you are a mucky kitten!" whispered Leah under her breath.  She then sighed and added, "I wonder how many more dispossessed souls are going to wander into this place tonight?"  Just as this thought had crossed her mind, the café door opened again.  Leah turned to see Sue-Lynn the squirrel entering the café, looking a little awkward.  She was late for her shift.

            "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Leah.  Very sorry," she said.  "I got held up by the snow, yes, yes.  The snow burners on my shuttle wouldn’t work, no, no.  I’ll have to book it in at the spaceport garage to get it fixed, yes, yes."

            "Ah, don't worry about it," Leah smiled.  "I'll just dock you about six day's pay and fire you at the end of the week!  Is that OK?"

            "Er, well, I suppose so," replied the little squirrel, not too sure of whether Leah was being serious or not.

            "Sue-Lynn, don't look so worried!" Leah smiled.  "I was only joking!  Blimey!  You should know me by now!"

            "Er, yes, yes, sorry, sorry," replied the squirrel.

            "In fact, I'm glad you've made it because there’s something that I would like you to do before you go on duty.”

“Yes, yes.  What, what?”

“Would you mind nipping down to Freshway’s clothes department and getting these items for Fluff?" she said, pawing over Fluff’s list.

            "No, no.  That would be no problem.  I heard about the crash on the radio, yes, yes.  Is Fluff all right?"

            "Blimey!  News to those radio stations doesn't half travel quickly, doesn't it?" said Leah, giving her husband a rather dour look.  "I wonder how they found out?"

            "What?" asked Rekki, looking all-innocent, wondering why Leah was looking at him.  "What have I done?"

            "Nothing!" his wife replied.  "At least, nothing that I know about."  She turned back to Sue-Lynn and added;  "Yes, Fluff's OK.  She's getting cleaned up in the shower room.  She needs the clothes on that list, if you wouldn't mind going for them."

            "No, no, I don't mind," the little squirrel replied.  "I don't mind at all."

            "And while you're there, why don’t you get something for yourself?"

            "Why, why, thank you, Miss Leah!" she smiled.  "Thank you very much."

            "No trouble.  Now, run along, otherwise Fluff's going to be coming out of there with nothing to wear but a wet towel."

            "I'm gone, I'm gone," said Sue-Lynn, scampering through the side door, leading to the spaceport promenade.  “Won’t be long, won’t be long.”

            "You're feeling generous tonight, aren't you?" said Gemma to Leah.  "Letting your employees have little perks like that."

            "And why not?" Leah replied.  "After all, it is Christmas, you know.  Anyway, you're being rather generous yourself, aren't you - over the Duke letting Fluff have his flat business?"

            "Yeah.  But, where's Duke going to be while Fluff's in his flat?" Gemma smiled.  "He's going to be over in The Rapscallion with huz."

            Leah gave Gemma a knowing smile.  She knew her well enough to know by now what the true meaning behind that husky Space Gypsy word 'huz' could sometimes be.  "Just so long as you get him back over to our place by lunchtime tomorrow," she said.  "And he'll need to have a steady paw to carve the Christmas turkey."

            "Oh, he'll be there, all right," Gemma smiled.  "I don't know what state he'll be in, but he'll be there!  In fact, I’ll probably be needing his help in the morning myself - or maybe later on tonight,” she added, with a scheming look in her eye.  “I’ve got some excess stock in the cargo hold that he can help me with.”

            “What?  At Christmas?  Come on, Gemma!  Have a heart.  The poor fellow!”

            “Oh, I’ve got a heart all right.  He’ll find that out later.”

            “Why?  What is this stock you've got in your hold?” smiled Leah, sensing that Gemma was probably not talking about the ordinary run-of-the-mill type of stock that she normally carried.

            “Oh, it’s just stock.” Gemma smiled.  “Unsold stock.  Three tons of it.”

            “Three tons of what?”

            “Three tons of…..mistletoe,” whispered Gemma, with a wicked grin.

            “Oh my!  What the heck are you going to do with three tons of mistletoe?”

            “Dunno."  Gemma's grin was becoming wickeder by the second.  "My original idea was to sell it at the market today.  But, with the snow being like it was, we’ve been grounded all day, so I’ve been stuck with it.”

“Three tons of mistletoe would have taken some selling, Gemma!  Even for a fox of your entrepreneurial skills.”

“Oh, I dunno.  A free peck on the check with every sprig sold.  We’d’ve made a fortune!” Gemma smiled.  “Never mind.  It won’t be going to waste.  We shall just have to….improvise.”

            “Gemma Mildury!  You are probably the most wickedest fox that I have ever met!" laughed Leah.  “You see a different angle to every situation, don’t you?”

            “Oh yes,” her friend smiled.  “Fox by species, fox by nature.  Poor old Duke's gonna wish that he hadn't been so gallant in giving up his flat tonight!”

            “Yeah, I'm beginning to get that impression,” smiled Leah, shuffling around in her seat.

            “Are you all right there?” Gemma asked.  “You look a bit uncomfortable.”

            “Oh, I’m just trying to find an easy spot, that’s all.  I think this little devil must have been asleep and she's just woken up again,” said Leah, rubbing her stomach.  “She’s starting to kick the stuffing out of me again. Oww!  I felt that one!”

            "Here, do you not want to lie down?" asked Gemma, offering Leah the full length of the bench.

            "Eh?  No, I'll be OK, I just need to get a bit more support for my back, that's all."

            “Well, here, have this cushion,” said Gemma, offering Leah the cushion from behind her seat.

“Oh, thanks Gemma, that’s better,” Leah replied, padding the cushion into the small of her back.  “Oooh!  That’s much better.”

“Good.  Er, Leah, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but when your time comes, how are you planning to get over to the hospital?”

            “Oh, Rekki’s got that one all worked out, haven’t you, Love?” Leah replied, looking adoringly over towards her husband.

            “Eh?  What?  Have I?”  Rekki replied.  “Oh.  Yeah, I have!” 

            “You don’t sound too sure!” said Gemma.

            “Ah! I was only joking,” the raccoon smiled.  “I’ve got it all worked out to a T.”           

            “Oh?  So, what’s the game plan, then?”

            “Well, it’s quite simple, really.  If I take Leah in my shuttle I can get her to Drakester City General Hospital within about five minutes.”

            “And what if it’s snowing like it is tonight?  How would you deal with that?”

            “Ah, well, Duke’s got an old road shuttle with a snow burner on the front of it.  I suppose I could use that if the baby decides to come on a day when it’s snowing.  I’ll still be able to get her there in time – much faster than any fleet ambulance from the hospital.”

            “I just hope you don’t have to dash off with her tonight,” said Duke, looking through the window.  “It’s an absolute blizzard out there again.”

            “I can’t see it happening tonight,” said Rekki, looking pleadingly over towards Gemma, hoping for some sign of her clairvoyance. 

            Gemma simply shook her head.  “Sorry Rekki, as I said before, these amulets aren’t that specific.  The baby’ll just come when she’s ready.”

            The sweep of a vehicle's headlights cutting across the café back wall and the sound of its engine drawing up outside broke into their conversation.

            "Who the heck's driving around on a night like this?" said Gemma.

            "I don't know.  But you'd better get the number down for Damien's collection," said Rekki.  "Otherwise, he'll never forgive you for it."

            "I'll do it," said Duke, picking up a pen and piece of paper from the counter.

            "You'd better get all the details," smiled Gemma.  "He'll want to know the date, the time and the colour of the guy's vest!"

            "Well, I'll put down the date and the time, but I’ll draw the line the guy's vest!  Heh, heh,” smiled Duke.  “O.K.  Heh, I haven't done this for years!  Right, December 24^th,” he jotted down.  “8.04pm - that’s 20.04 hours.  Type 53 road shuttle.  Registration: Ah!  Yes!  Er...Gemma....er...I don’t think you’re going to like this."

            "Why?  What's up?"

            "It's that shuttle outside."

            "What about it?"

            "It's...er...it's an Alliance shuttle.  Its…er….its registration is...er...Bones One.”

            “Bones One?” said Gemma, a little apprehensively.

            “Er...yeah.  Bones One,” Duke confirmed, underlining the note he’d made for Damien.  "See," he said, holding up the paper.

            “Bones One as in Bones, Spiker's sidekick?”

            “I think so,” replied Duke.  He shielded his eyes with his forepaw and pressed his face against the window to get a better view.  “Yeah, it’s definitely a Federal Alliance road shuttle we've got out there, snow burners and all.”

            “Haven’t those pigs done enough damage for one night?" snarled Gemma.  "What the heck have they come here for?  To make sure that Fluff's been properly burned to a frazzle?”

            “I dunno, but there’s only one of them,” reported Duke.  “I think it’s Bonesy himself.”

            "Good!  I'm ready for him!"

            The door to the café burst open.  Bones came swirling in followed by copious amounts of drifting snow and leaves blown in by the wind.  He struggled frantically to get the door closed again, finally managing to heave it back into place by pushing it with his shoulder.  He barely had the chance to turn around before Gemma was upon him;

            “And what the heck are you doing here, you rotten traitor to your fur!”

            “Oh, Hi Gemma, and a very Happy Ronsinfest to you as well,” he replied.

            “Don’t come it, Bonesy!” Gemma snarled, prodding him in the chest.  “Space Gypsy traitors aren’t welcome here!  So, you can just turn your blasted tail around, get yourself back through that blasted door, get back into that blasted shuttle and blast off back to where you blasted well came from!"

            "Blimey!  That was a bit of a mouthful!" Bones replied, trying his best to ease past Gemma without actually pushing her.  "There was a lot of blasting going on there!  By, it's a bit warmer in here than it is out there," he said, rubbing his forepaws together.  

            "It was pretty warm out there about twenty minutes ago!" yelled Gemma, pointing towards the large café bay window.  "In fact it was burning hot!”

            Bones smiled politely at Gemma and strolled nonchalantly over towards the café counter.  He sat down on one of the stools near the till, picked up a pack of sandwiches from the display and took a sniff at it.

            Gemma became more and more enraged by his apparent display of indifference;  “I take it that you’ve seen what’s left of Fluff’s transporter out there?” she yelled.

            “Er, yes, I’ve seen it,” Bones replied.  “In fact, I helped to shoot it down.  Are these sandwiches fresh?"

            “You helped to shoot it down!” Gemma screamed.  “You helped to shoot it down!  And you’ve got the gall to come in here and start talking about sandwiches! I ought to take those bloomin’ sandwiches and ram them down your bloomin’ neck!  Plastic wrapping and all!  Doesn’t Fluff’s transporter mean anything to you?”

            “No, not really.  Fluff’s transporter doesn’t mean anything to me at all, but Fluff herself does.  You see, not only did I help to shoot her down, I also helped to rescue her.  I was the one who locked the tractor beam on to her at the last minute and lifted her above the cliff.”

            “Yeah, after you used it to try and shove her under the sea!” Gemma snarled.  “We all saw you using that tractor beam as a repulsor.  You were pushing her down before you decided to pick her up.  What were you doing?  Trying to get her to confess to something that she hadn’t done?”

            “No, no!  You’ve got it all wrong!  Fluff had fired a few shots at us during the chase.”

            “Good for her!  It’s a pity she didn’t blow you to smithereens!”

            “Oh, thanks, Gemma.  I suppose I deserved that.”

            “Yeah, you did.”

            “Yeah, fair enough.  But, what I was trying to say is that we didn’t know that she’d hit our tractor beam emitter until we tried to use it.  You see, she hit us with an anti-magnetic blazer.  It reversed the polarity on the tractor beam, turning it into a repulsor beam, which is why we almost accidentally shoved her into the sea.  We were trying to pick her up, you see.”

            “I see, I see,” replied Gemma, angrily.  “I see.  So, what you’re trying to say is that you nearly shoving Fluff under the sea was Fluff’s own fault!”

            “Well, I suppose it was, in a way.”

            “Nepeante!” snarled Gemma in Mogavis.

            Leah gave Duke an inquisitive look.  “What did she just say then?” she whispered.

            “Er...I’m not really sure,” Duke replied.  “Gemma’s been teaching me a bit of Mogavis, but we haven’t got round to the rude words yet!”

            “Oh, come on, Gemma!  There was no need for that!” said Bones.

            “Oh, you still know what it means, then?  There’s still a bit of Space Gypsy in you, is there?  They haven’t taken it all away, eh?  Well, all I can say is you’ve got a nerve coming in here tonight, Bonesy.  You’re not welcome here.  Not welcome at all!  So, why don’t you just go back through that door, get back in that fancy shuttle of yours and take off!”

            “I will, once I’ve seen Fluff.  Is she here?”

            “What do you want to see her for?”

            “Oooh, that’s between huz - as you Space Gypsies would say.”

            “Yeah?  And there’s something else huz Space Gypsies would say too, and that is you can kiss my furry....”

            “Er, yes, OK Gemma,” interjected Rekki.  “I think tempers are getting a little bit frayed here.”

            “Well, it’s this blasted…..chikrast!” said Gemma, prodding Bones on the shoulder.  “I think he’s got a ruddy cheek, swanning in here after what he’s just done to poor Fluff.”

            “Swearing at him in Mogavis isn’t gonna help things, Gemma.”

            “Oh, she’s not swearing,” said Bones.  “She’s not being very nice,” he added, fixing his gaze on Gemma.  “But she’s not swearing.”

            “I wouldn’t lower myself that far over you,” Gemma replied, walking past him slowly, allowing the tip of her tail to brush lightly under his nose.  Bones reacted by giving a loud sneeze.

            “Oooh, dear!” said Gemma.  “I would say bless you, but that would imply that I cared.”

            “Never mind that,” replied Bones, rubbing his nose on a napkin.  “Is Fluff here?”

            “If you’ve come to arrest her you’ve got no chance, Bonesy Boy.  You’re out of your league and out of your jurisdiction.”

            “I haven’t come to arrest her.  Quite the opposite.  Now, for the third and final time of asking, is Fluff here?”

            “Yes, Fluff’s here,” Gemma snarled.  “But I doubt very much that she’ll want to talk to you.  Not tonight, anyway.”  She turned round and looked him directly in the eye.  Bones found this approach a little unnerving.  Every fibre of his being was telling him that Gemma’s point of view was the right point of view.  He wanted to reach out in some way and let her know that he wasn’t really her enemy, but his responsibility to The Alliance prevented this.  Also, the only vibrations he was picking up from Gemma right now was something akin to a wall of hostility.  Even if he could bring himself to say how he felt deep down, she would probably just bite his head off.  She wouldn’t believe him and she would just shoot him down in flames in the way that she had done so many times before.  So, Bones felt that the only way to proceed would be to stand up to her, even if he didn’t really want to.

            “Well?” he demanded.  “Where is she?”

            “She’s in there,” replied Gemma, pointing towards the ladies’ shower room.  “She’s cleaning herself up.  She was in a right state when she came in here.”

            “Right, well, I’ll just go in there and see her, then.”

            “Oh, no you won’t!” Leah barked, struggling to her backpaws.  “I don’t know how things are done in Alliance camps, but in this spaceport you’ll abide by our rules.  And one of those rules is gentlemen aren’t allowed in the ladies shower rooms.  You can just sit down there and wait until she’s ready.”

            “Yeah, you’re not at Drondak now, Bonesy!” Gemma snarled.  “On Zenophon gentlemen treat ladies with a bit more respect.”

            “Yeah, I remember you at Drondak,” Bones smiled.  “Have you still got that little patch of white fur?”

            “Have you still got that ruddy great lump on your head?” Gemma growled, taking hold of his muzzle and forcing it downwards.  “No, you haven’t. Never mind, if you go anywhere near that door I can very quickly give you another one!”

            “Oooh, I’ve got no intentions of going near that door,” Bones replied, rubbing his muzzle as Gemma let go of him.  “I was just getting you going a bit, that’s all.  I’ll just wait here until Fluff’s ready.  Are these sandwiches fresh, by the way?  I haven’t had any lunch yet.”

            “Oh, let him have the blasted sandwiches!” said Leah to Rekki.  “Charge him double for them!  Special rate for Space Gypsy traitors!”

            “And a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss.”

            “No, it wouldn’t, would it?” said Leah.  “I wouldn’t miss with it!”

 

–

           

            Sue-Lynn Squirrel came scampering back into the café.  She was absolutely loaded down with plastic bags bearing the ‘Freshway’s Boutique’ logo.&nb