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blue, were also cat-like. A normal Earth-like male with blond hair had his arm over her shoulders. Right from the female, presumably the mother, stood another young lady, this one looking much like her dad and perfectly Earth-normal. Behind her and to the side, his face visible, but his body only partly so, stood a dark haired gentleman with golden cat eyes. Right of this couple stood my acquaintance, in all his calico haired splendor. And from his arm hung a perfectly normal Earth-female, blond and petite, one of those self-contained perfectly groomed women who always made me feel like breaking something. Preferably something attached to them.
    Um . . . So, the critter didn't reproduce by fission. And he had a family somewhere. Were any of them here?
    Points against—he had said that he was alone and had the ship on autopilot. No, correction. He'd said he had the ship on autopilot. Didn't mean he was alone, only that little miss blonde couldn't pilot. And—points for someone else being aboard—that light slide went all the way up normal lighting, which cat-eyes didn't seem to enjoy or need.
    Fine, I'd go on with caution. If there were two of them on board, it would make things harder. Not impossible, mind, not by a long shot, but harder.
    Cautiously, I left the room and met with a choice of going to the right, which angled down into the ramp I'd taken coming in. Or to the left, which led around in a lazy, level circle. I went left. These were definitely the living quarters. Not particularly impressive, but far bigger than in the harvesters from Circum and denoting a long-distance ship. There was a small room, with an exercise machine so complex that I couldn't imagine how to use it, followed by a slightly larger fresher with the usual appliances and a cleaner with the options for water or vibro. Down the hall from that was a kitchen with a large automated cooker, a small table—affixed solidly to the floor—and two chairs, ditto. The cabinet revealed two plates, two cups and two sets of cutlery. So, perhaps blondie was around after all.
    Further down the hall, a vibro closet for clothes, filled to almost capacity with dirty suits that no one had bothered to put in the small, efficient-looking vibro unit. The clothes smelled musty and contributed in no small measure to the smell of the ship. So . . . either the unit was broken—I lacked the time or interest to try it—or there was at least one very bad housekeeper aboard. A poke with my toe—as close as I wanted to get—seemed to indicate all the clothes were of the type and size of the clothing upstairs, and, truth be told, there seemed to be clothing only for one in the bedroom. So, maybe kitten was alone.
    I went down the other way, till I came to the set of stairs I'd guessed existed somewhere. The stairs led to another floor, most of whose doors were marked with timeless radiation hazard sign. I knew that signs often lied, but I didn't feel foolhardy enough to try just yet. And besides, this seemed to be a small, intimate spaceship, so to whom would the signs lie?
    While the level upstairs had been carpeted in bright red, plushy stuff, this level was all dimatough, polished and cold.
    I came upon another staircase—with a ramp to the other side, which was odd. Was spaceship set for disabled access? Who was disabled? Blondie? And why? If bio-improvement were allowed and not forbidden as on Earth, why have disabilities?—and took it down, as silently as I could. It wasn't difficult to be silent, as steps were made of dimatough, solid as stone and immovable, and I was barefoot.
    This level was carpeted again, and as I moved slowly clockwise, I could tell it was inhabited. It had that feel. I passed a broad, empty room full of monitors and what looked like blank gemboards. And then I came to the door of another broad room.
    My calico haired friend was there, sitting, with his back to me—such his confidence—fully absorbed in something taking place on the