Entry 002 - Orbital

Ketra woke late the following morning, crawling from under the simple cover to stand blinking in the warm light diffusing through the large windows. Noises drifted up from the main floor below, and she moved mechanically toward the basin in the far corner, wincing slightly. Even with sparring and competing for several years, matches still left her brutally sore.

Nearly all fox residences have plumbing in each room. Ketra splashed water on her face and shook, stared at her reflection for several moments, then punched the shower activator. Sounds of rainfall and curls of steam rolled around the partition, and Ketra stepped gratefully into the downpour, heat washing stiff muscles. There was even a small bar of Pasture Scrub, a natural fat soap from the western Toul region where her family owned property. It also smelled amazing. Re-washing her hair and rinsing thoroughly, Ketra stepped back through the partition humming to herself and shut off the valves. Next she bent into an odd curve, paused and released into a wild shake that sent droplets flying in all directions. City smells drifted in from a nearby window. Mostly pleasant.

Ketra studied her now-damp reflection for several moments, tamed her hair but opted to leave it loose, and wriggled into a loose sleeveless shirt and light mechanics pants. Peak casual comfort. She winked at her reflection, cocking an ear for effect. “Yep!”

Out in the hall of the apartment-like building, Ketra followed her nose to the large galley kitchen.

“Ketra you’re up! Give me a quick help?” Katani Toul was a tall fox with prominent facial markings, easy smile and a notch in one ear. She nodded toward an enormous mixing machine, dry ingredients staged around it, waiting. Competing families often gave gifts to competitors and area staff, and Ketra’s family was known for baking.

“Yes ... if I can command our orbital lift today” Ketra grinned, showing white pointy teeth.

Agreed,” Katani said, after considering several moments. “Andrayne was looking to rotate the flight deck. Recipe is on the table there” she gestured with a large spatula. “You know what to do.”

Ketra beamed and dug into her task. Members of other contestant families came and went in the huge open kitchen as she blended ingredients, adjusting as she went to finish with a very large elastic ball of dough. There were hundreds of foxes just from House Toul, and the kitchen and adjoining dining hall humming with activity. She unhooked the mixing bowl, locked into the wheeled cart and shuffled over to the proofing cabinet. A puff of humid air greeted her as she slid bowl in, cart and all, smelling of yeast and CO2.

“Wha --!”Ketra stepped backward, colliding with another fox. Plates and cups went flying, the reinforced ceramic making a tremendous clatter without actually breaking. Heads turned, and Ketra’s fur rippled, ears tipping backward. “Bolts! I’m sorry, I --“

“Bolts?” The other fox giggled, a melodic sound that made Ketra glance up.”

Scarlett, hi,” Ketra said, slightly more breathy than she meant to. Scarlett was a head taller, rosy gold and cream with dominant markings, giving her the sculpted beauty House Alaire was known for, and exceptionally proud of. One delicate hand held a surviving cup, the other partially covered a smile, which didn’t reach her eyes.

“You ... wanna give me a hand?”

Ketra grabbed a tray and stooped to retrieve scattered dishware. They worked fast, Ketra narrowly missing Scarlett again as she turned to drop the tray on washing belt. She was annoyed, embarrassed, and cross at both feelings.

“Thanks Ketra--“ Scarlett said, drawing out the name slightly more than was necessary. She gathered up another tower of dishes and swung toward the dinning hall. “Definitely keep up those fighting reflexes!”

Ketra watched Scarlett’s back as she glided away, and then glared daggers at a young male who had stopped loading a dishwasher to watch. He ducked his ears and turned to watch Scarlett’s progress instead. She had arrived at a group of tables, leaned down and said something to the group, and the foxes gathered erupting with laughter. Several looked toward the kitchen entrance, a mixture of amusement and curiosity. Ketra waved at the Alaire table, pretending they were fans. She was quite sure they weren’t. But she twenty-two after all, and competing in the Felt for several cycles provided ample experience in public ... Somewhat. Many Foxes knew who she was, occasionally stopping her for pictures, or to ask technique advice, the males often claiming their requests as “for a friend!” Some were even pretty cute. She turned back to the mixing station, trying to ignore the buzzing conversation back out in the hall.

“Seven, you’re departing on the evening shuttle, gate transport to Kest-7 has been arranged.”

“Da, that research post is fully staffed, why --“

”I have explained this,” said the elder Fox, talking straight over Seven. “House Lacroix has primary charge in that system, our contract with the Drusk can not be impacted, and it is your newest sequences that have come under question.”

Seven opened his mouth, and closed it, exhaling noisily. He stared down at large desk, and the words “Teraform the Stars” elegantly cut into the crystalline top.

“The data we had back from the team makes no sense -- whatever the issue, I am delegating full oversight of the Kest facility to you Seven, until things have been sorted.” Seven didn’t speak, but nodded, ears tipping apart just enough to convey agreement. The older fox appeared to relax slightly, though his tone remained clipped.

“When you return, we should spend some time at the lakes.”

Seven nodded again, and after a brief pause, shouldered his bag and strode out into the reception area, and onward into a waiting lift. Samandane Lacroix had been Chief of their House leaders for many cycles, and Seven knew when a meeting was over. There was an orbital ferry launch just a few sections down from the Lacroix Research complex, an easy walking distance. The outcome of this emergency trip was completely unknown, but the likelihood of them visiting the north lakes was dim either way.

Like many larger cities on their homeworld Vultanye, foot and vehicle traffic were separated, with raised walkways, bridges and platforms allowing Foxes on foot to travel unimpeded, and without interrupting the humming traffic below.  Seven first followed his nose to a tiny shop selling “travelers fare;” mostly assorted grilled waterfowl, vegetables, and a few bright fruits, all cut into pieces and cooked on an open grill. The tangy-sweet sauce was the best part, and Seven took his time as he walked along, enjoying the food and the simple adventure of walking through the city with a bit of time to wander.

Common to nearly Dawn Fox territories, water was available nearly everywhere. Seven cleaned his hands thoroughly at one of the numerous drinking fountains, and made his way into the port terminal, following a familiar path onto one of the massive platforms that served the ferry ships that moved persons and cargo from the surface into orbit. The blocky transport “Bright Calculation” was docked and waiting, vapor curling off its massive lift engines as it re-energized for the next lift. His Father’s secretary had given him a printed transport card, and out of habit he checked the listed charter, which read “Private, House Toul, Bridge Deck, Orbital Station 0037,” and then a small matrix of numbers, indicating both the surface and GST liftoff schedule.

GST, or Galactic Standard Time is given any time spaceflight is being made: a simple calculation based on the rotation of the galaxy in which Vultayne’s star resided.

“Private lift?” Seven said aloud, glancing back up.  His seat was listed “Bridge” which was at the top of the heavy ship. Was his Father so anxious to get him in transit that he had called favors to lock a ride on a private vessel?

The section was nearly full by the time Seven made his way up the gangway and several lifts. He stowed his small bag and flopped down in his thankfully empty seat, feeling drained. It was Harvest season, and he was shipping out to troubleshoot a non-issue on a colony planet where barely anything even grew.  Orbital flights had been common from an early age, and for some reason, the young male Fox standing up by the Commander’s chair seemed familiar.

“Alright House Toul, welcome aboard our “Bright Calculation!”General cheers could be heard across the deck. Seven froze, having just retrieved his comm tablet and was paging through the latest dat from Kest-7.
“Liftoff sequencing begins now, ship’s crew please standby for gangway detach and atmospheric lock.” Seven glanced up, right as the Commander’s chair rotated around.

Ketra Toul, in flight suit and command badge was midway though her first set of checks, her amplified voice blaring surprise across the deck.

“*Seven*?! What are --” but the full sentence was cut as someone cut her mic. Many heads turned to glance up at the command crew, and then followed Ketra’s gaze.

Tall as he was, Seven was visible across the deck. The buzz of conversation started immediately.