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“Boss!” one woman said. “Can we get our own dogs?”
Eabor grumbled. “Maybe,” he grunted. “I’ll think about getting us on the list.”
Sulp knew Eabor had always loved animals. It was amusing that he was so charmed by the spacehounds.
But that did raise a question; “That small one isn’t yours?” Sulp asked.
“No . . . It’s kind of a long story. But we don’t have any staff qualified to care for a dog.”
“I will!” one woman said cheerily. “I’ll take care of her!”
“. . . as in a veterinarian,” Eabor finished dryly. The woman pursed her lips and looked down, disappointed.
“You don’t just accidentally get an extra dog!” Sulp growled.
“Apparently this is how you get some dogs,” the other man shrugged. “Since we can’t take her, I figured you could.”
Sulp grumbled. He wasn’t thrilled to be bringing back more lifeforms than he’d planned, but . . . This wasn’t a spacer fleet where rationing was common. This was the Craton, who could easily take the burden.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
He stepped forward, in front of the spacehounds. All of them put their eyes on him, ears going up in alert.
“I’ve been thinking about names,” he said. Damned if he was gonna let Zeela name them, not if he was picking them up!
“You’re now Clab,” he said pointing at the one on the end. “And you’re Porb. Norb. Geel. And Corb.”
He didn’t have a name for the sixth dog, who he’d barely even gotten a look at yet, as it kept darting around among the legs of the station workers. Not a pup, but a Station Terrier. They just were small.
The spacehounds stared at him, with an almost alarming amount of intelligence in their eyes.
“Beaux,” one said.
“What?” he asked, frowning.
“Name is Beaux,” the voice said. The dog did not make any indication of talking, but the voice came from its collar, the system attached there.
“Don’t tell me you all have names already,” Sulp said.
They seemed to take that literally, and none said anything. Though smarter than your average dog, they weren’t at a human level of intelligence.
“Ah, yeah, they all have names,” Eabor said. “That’s Beaux, as it said. She’s Cross. That one is Sasha, then Zeus and Apollo at the end. The Station Terrier is Angel.”
“Who gives those kind of names to dogs?” Sulp said, sighing. He got out his bag of chew and put some in his mouth.
Enough to give a man conniptions! He’d wanted to give them the names of his favorite comedians, from back in his spacer days. A good laugh was the stuff of life for a man out in the dark!
But spacehounds really took to their names, he knew. Changing them was a very difficult process, as they took their names to be a part of their core concept of being. It was no use trying to change them.
Despite being all roughly similar, they all had some distinctive features. Beaux had slightly thicker fur around its neck, and was pure white. Sasha was a pale gold, for much of her head and body, with white on her underside. Cross was mostly white with only a darker splotch on both sides, while Apollo and Zeus were both pure white, and nearly identical save for a darker spot over one eye that was mirrored between them.
Beautiful dogs, he thought.
The small Station Terrier darted out, looking up at him expectantly. She had something in her mouth.
“What you got, girl?” he asked, kneeling. She seemed reluctant to let him take it, but he managed.
It was just a label from a package, and he frowned, looking to Eabor for some context.
He shrugged. “She just seems to enjoy fetching things like that.”
“Why, though?” he asked the dog.
She didn’t reply.
“She’s not a smart dog,” Eabor said. “Normal and unaltered, as far as I can tell.”
“Oh.” Sulp considered on that. “Have you told the breeders yet?”
“Yeah. They said the cost to ship her back would be too much. She wasn’t qualified to be uplifted, so . . . she’s always just going to be a normal dog.”
Sulp found himself feeling a little sympathy for her. And, well, she was very cute, looking up at the label he was holding as if it was a dear prize.
“I’ll take her,” Sulp said. He offered back the label, and she grabbed it and darted away excitedly.
“Can they stay here a little while longer at least?” one man asked. “Like through break?”
“Well, we’re going to get some lunch and catch up,” Eabor told him. “So I think that’s fine. Sulp?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he said.
There was practically a cheer as the people on their breaks went back to showering the dogs with affection. They acted stoic, but Sulp could tell they were loving it, too.
“We can take a long lunch,” Sulp said quietly to Eabor as they walked out.
Other Terrestrial 