Phobos Ferret Affair

 

The Phobos Ferret Affair

Jonno Virek had handled missing diplomats, malfunctioning robots, and once even a fusion-powered biscuit. But the call from Phobos Station about a missing ferret made him pause.

He sipped his tea, brow furrowed. “A ferret?”

Mara Linskey, seated opposite him in the Peregrine Queen’s common area, checked the incoming job file. “A genetically modified ferret, apparently. Used for rodent pest control on Phobos Station. Highly trained.”

Jonno set down his mug. “So they’ve lost a rat-chaser.”

“It’s no ordinary rat-chaser,” Mara explained. “It’s modified to track alien insect infestations in zero gravity. Fully adapted, hyperintelligent, trained for scent cues. Replacing it would cost a fortune.”

Jonno sighed. “We’re the galaxy’s fixers, all right.”

Phobos Station was as tired as its managers, the orbital platform’s hull pitted by micrometeorites and its docking ring giving off a faint ozone tang. Inside, station manager Tilda Crane was nearly in tears.

“It was a prototype,” she explained, voice cracking. “We called him Basil. His nose alone is worth millions.”

Jonno tried to look sympathetic. “Any clue where he went?”

“He was chasing a rogue roach from the algae tanks,” Crane said, “but the pest-control deck’s fire suppression system triggered. Basil panicked and bolted into the ventilation.”

Jonno exhaled. “And your engineers can’t get him out?”

“They tried,” she admitted. “He bit one of them and vanished. Please — get him back unharmed.”

Mara followed Jonno into the ducting network, carrying a small tracking dish. The stale air made her wrinkle her nose.

“Ferret in the vents,” she said drily. “Nice and simple.”

Jonno managed a wry grin. “Better than hunting loose insects.”

They traced Basil’s tracking implant through tangles of dust and insulation, crawling slowly until a small, twitching nose poked out behind a cracked filter.

“Hello, Basil,” Jonno coaxed. “Fancy coming back with us?”

The ferret froze, eyes bright and suspicious. Then it shot deeper into the duct.

Mara sighed. “After him!”

They shuffled further through the narrow tube, trying to keep pace. Basil’s signal danced around corners and through tight junctions until Jonno managed to block him at a branching node.

Mara extended a protein bar, voice calm. “It’s all right, little one. This is safe.”

The ferret crept forward, drawn by the scent, and Mara scooped him up swiftly, holding him steady as he squirmed.

“Got him,” she whispered in triumph.

Jonno grinned. “That’s a bonus fee right there.”

Back in the control office, Tilda Crane nearly collapsed with relief when they returned Basil, unharmed and a bit dusty but otherwise fine. She transferred a generous sum to Jonno’s account and offered a handshake Jonno could barely refuse.

“You saved our entire pest control programme,” Crane said gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Jonno replied.

Later, back aboard the Peregrine Queen, Jonno and Mara sat together with fresh mugs of tea. The ship’s hum was steady, its systems calm, and for once nothing sticky, smelly, or explosive was lurking around the corner.

Jonno raised his cup. “To quiet days.”

Mara smirked. “A ferret in the vents counts as quiet?”

He laughed. “Compared to some jobs, yes.”

She clinked her mug against his. “To quiet days, then.”

Jonno breathed in the steam, grateful that out here among the stars, they could still find a moment of peace.

Come back next week for another cosmic adventure with Jonno and Mara!