Two-Five of
Four-Seven Slash Second scurried down the corridor of the station, tails
held high, though his Slash First mate-brother had warned him the humans were
averse to seeing Kekrax tails seeming to float through the air. It ‘unsettled’
them. Hurry was needful, and hurry he could not, if his tails – magnificent
they were, admired by many Slash First including his own – were down, or if
they were discreetly wrapped around his long torso.

      He was careful,
still, to change his personal scent. The humans he passed would not remember
him.

      There it was! The
ventilation tube he sought  lay near
floor level in the outer ring of the station Earth’s children called “Tau Ceti.”
A square grate covered the opening, secured with nothing more than a magnetic
seal. His right tail twitched in amusement. This would be simpler than he had
anticipated.