by S E Anderson
“She seems a little overwhelmed,” I said. “Did I say something?”
“She always gets like this when planning heists,” he replied, letting out a heavy sigh. Slowly, he started stuffing the cereal bags into their boxes, opening the empty cupboards and jamming them in. “She’s a perfectionist. Doesn’t leave any opportunity for error.”
“And we’re clear opportunities for error.”
“Exactly.”
I got back on my feet—or my toes, I should say—and used my phone to select some music, easing into the tempo and clapping to the beat. Blayde faded from my mind; Zander faded from my mind; everything faded away until it was just me and the music, my body moving in time with a song that meant nothing to my Terran ears.
I was going to get this dance. I was going to fool the entire ball and then save my friends from the Alliance. All I had to do was dance my part.
And not fall flat on my ass, like I’d just done.
“Sally,” said Zander, rushing to my side, “are you … never mind.”
I flashed him a smile, letting him help me up, nonetheless. Of course, I was fine. Nothing hurt but my pride.
“Do you need a partner?” he asked, his hand still on mine.
“Only if you can keep up.”
He let out a small chuckle, making signals at the TV until it switched to a music channel, pictures of forests in lieu of a music video. The same channel Kork must have tuned into the night before. If someone wanted to dance the Lithero 24/7—or 30/10 as time went on Pyrina—they need look no further.
Together, apart. Clapping, stomping around and around the room. The moves were easier with Zander at my side: part partner, part guide. I could play off his moves for balance and direction.
And that smile, that blinding smile! I pushed myself harder just to see more of his teeth. Now that my feet were far beyond the stage of feeling numb and slipping into what could almost be called muscle memory, I was actually enjoying myself. There was something about being able to twirl around the room to rousing music with the man you loved that made everything else seem totally insignificant.
Which, of course, was the exact moment of inattention it took for my feet to slip out from under me once again, causing me to collapse on the floor, dragging down Zander with me.
Unintentional, I swear. Also unintentional were my lips on his, my hands cautiously on his chest. Unintentional was his response, though his arms wrapping around my waist felt like a promise, and his lips on mine like a vow.
Absolutely intentional were my hands reaching under his shirt and his own pulling off my top.
After what could have been hours, though it couldn’t have been more than minutes, we broke away for air we didn’t need, his hands warm against my back.
“You deserve much better than a floor,” he whispered.
“I don’t care,” I replied, lowering my lips to his, though my hair reached his face first, making him laugh. His eyes sparkled with joy as he brushed the strand, docking it behind my ear. “This is the first time we’ve been alone—truly alone!—in what might possibly have been forever. I’m not risking it.”
He sat up, one arm keeping me to him, and suddenly he was standing, my legs wrapped tightly around his torso to keep me from slipping down. My lips were latched onto his—for a secondary degree of protection, you see—as he marched us through the apartment, across the floor I had trampled so hard, and through the door to a room I hadn’t even had the chance to explore.
Okay, I admit, he was right. A bed underneath my back was heaven right now. And with how much I was missing beds, I could have sunk into a sleepy stupor right then and there.
Though maybe I was just drowsy from lack of oxygen.
“You see?” said Zander, peeling away slightly. “No time wasted, nothing risked.”
“No time wasted,” I agreed.
Time was wasted, however, as we struggled to get off the shoes I had been strapped into for almost an entire day. My feet had swollen to an abysmal size, meaning the poor footwear had to be pried off, and the second my feet were free, they each released a sigh of relief so strong it winded us both for a few seconds. But then we were laughing again, and the rest of our clothes put up less of a fight, and time wasn’t wasted any more.
“Zander,” I said, his name rolling off my tongue like a prayer. The desire that had been building within me, denied and shoved down for so long, was bursting through every pore in my body, so strong and so fast that my head was spinning. I parted my lips once more, but my tongue began to act on its own accord, words spilling from a leaky bucket. “Have you ever wanted to know what it feels like to be another species? Head on down to Hal’s Hall of Mirrors, where you can see for yourself! Open ten days a week, even on holidays. Must be under five units tall to access the building.”
I guess he wanted me as much as I did him because the Hall of Mirrors was met with our laughter. Our bodies spoke a language that didn’t need a translator.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Invisible Hand of the Economy is an impressively good dancer
By the time you get around to your second alien gala, you get a little blasé about things. Especially about the limo. No one wants to drive around in a giant hovering car when you have to deal with the traffic of the most populated planets in the galaxy. And that wasn’t even counting the flashbacks of falling.
“We’re not going to be late,” said Zander, but it sounded like he was only trying to convince himself. I felt like a huffy debutante, my bright pink ball gown taking up the entire back seat, a good ten feet behind Zander, who was looking quite trim in his chauffeur uniform. Why the hell he splurged on something like that when it was literally for a two-minute drop-off was beyond me. If I could toot my own horn, I would say it was because he was fond of more than just costume changes.
“You’d think people as advanced as the great Alliance would have solved something as trivial as traffic by now,” I muttered. “They have flying cars, for goodness sake. Why the hell are we stationary?”
He said something I couldn’t hear over the din of the cars outside. That and the empty distance between us.
“What?” I asked.
“A few streets are shut off for the parade,” he repeated. “There’s a giraffe!”
I pulled a teenage prom move and opened the sunroof of the limo, standing straight so I could peek over. That wasn’t a giraffe flying by; it was a mountain: black flesh ripped from the night sky wafting down the main street as gracefully as if we were all suddenly underwater. Why a living giraffe grown of pure darkness was smiling down Main Street was anybody’s guess.
I gawked at the sight, then promptly coughed at the fumes.
“Why is there a giraffe parade?” I asked, shutting the sunroof. “Also, space giraffes?”
“What? Giraffes can’t live in space?”
“I always thought that was just superstition,” I replied. My gown was stiff, and sitting back down was a chore. My feet were numb in their pointed shoes. “Or wasn’t it whales? Also, yeah, nothing is meant to actually live in space. It’s an endless void.”
“Giraffes are explorers. Why do you think they have such long necks?”
“None of that makes any sense,” I said. “Is my translator acting up again?”
“Seeing as how I don’t suddenly crave gum, I think you’re fine.”
The giraffe passed, traffic resumed, and Zander wove us through until joining the line of limos full of other attendees.
“You look amazing,” he said, and I caught his gaze in the rear-view mirror. “So much for being inconspicuous. All eyes will be on you.”
I felt a blush coming on. “Says the face of the latest hot chauffeur calendar.”
“Is that a thing?”
“You would be every month. And they would be wishing for an Earth calendar just for the extra two spreads.”
He beamed, bringing us forward a few more meters. Through the windshield, up ahead as it was, I could barely ma
ke out the hint of the building we would be crashing, the gorgeous stone structure that stood by itself in the middle of the crowded city.
“Agreement Hall,” said Zander. “Though I’m sure it sounds fancier in Old Pyrinian. This is where the Alliance came into being. The very spot it was signed into existence.”
“Great place for a dance party,” I muttered.
“Always. Remembering the sacrifice of our ancestors through joy and celebration. Well, it would be fitting if it weren’t for the abuse of power and all. But, hey, free cake!”
“Free cake,” I agreed.
“You’re nervous.”
“Of course I am. I’m about to take a shot at the president. It’s not a fun prospect.”
“Sure it is. Blayde’s going to stop it, sure, but isn’t it going to be cathartic?”
“Let’s hope so,” I replied. “I’ll see you in there.”
The limo came to park in front of the grand hall, and Zander let himself out, slipping into character. As my door opened, I was looking at a stranger, a man I probably knew as well as a gardener or a maid. Because I was no longer Sally Webber either. I was Lady Glosilda of the Bluest Isle. And I was definitely not here to commit murder.
Despite the dark sky above, it was like stepping out into the midday sun. The spotlights filled the world with pink fire and rose-scented air. It was hour twenty-four, and the party of the century was just getting started.
It’s not every day the president turned one hundred.
Suddenly, I was on the red carpet, blinded by the huge spotlights, waving at the crowd who cheered for me without even knowing who I was. I smiled, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach that kept twisting and turning as my anxiety rose, leaving Zander to pull the limo out of the way to make his own separate entrance.
I lifted the hem of my dress and ascended the stairs, passing by the silver android who announced my name to an enraptured audience. I had thought the party on Da-Duhui was extravagant, but this ball redefined the word. Opulence overflowed from the balconies down into the hall, oozing silk and silver, and hundreds of races crammed into a single room, bold and beautiful and drop-dead gorgeous.
I caught my breath, but only once. This was meant to be my world, after all. I wasn’t supposed to be surprised by races that had been my neighbors all my life.
“Is this absolutely necessary?” I asked the android as it ran a wand over the front and back of my dress. For a second, I feared the wand would detect the gun, somehow, despite all the work Zander had put into making it as un-gun-like as possible, but it remained silent.
“Safety is my number one concern, ma’am,” he said. “Thank you.”
My date waited for me in the atrium, and he was right: He did look even more dashing in his dress uniform. Captain James T. Kork was a miracle of human achievement, all muscle and poise, black uniform tight around his figure and heavy with the medals of his many accomplishments. While most of them were fictional, the medals themselves definitely were not. We bowed to each other in Alliance fashion, then I latched myself to his arm, happy for a friendly face to lead me through.
“You look sublime,” he said. “I couldn’t possibly guess your planet of origin.”
“I could say the same of you,” I replied. “I can’t thank you enough for inviting me.”
“Oh please,” he said, shrugging off his coat. We reached the top of the Lithorn-wood stairs—the silver swirls in between the rungs so effectively polished that they forced you to look up instead—that led into the main hall, and he slipped in between two pillars to hand the coat to the attendant there, a woman whose eyes stared right through me. She smiled and gave Kork a dazzling wink. Blayde.
“I thought she would come as a guest,” said Kork, turning away from her. Familiarity would not do.
“It was easier to just get her hired as staff,” I said. “She’s got references like you wouldn’t believe. I don’t know if there really is a coat-check university, but apparently she’s their valedictorian.”
We stepped through the arches and into the main hall. It was almost impossible not to gasp at this room. This hall was even larger and grander than anything I had ever seen in my entire life, the ceiling tall and arched and inlaid with a mosaic of precious stones from all four corners of the Alliance rather than painted. It depicted scenes from their mythology, which somehow involved winged sea slugs and unicorn-headed men fighting against purple flowers, which occasionally showered the crowd with sparkles. And yet, it was so perfectly done I couldn’t for the life of me find a reason to laugh.
The end of the hall held a raised dais with a podium at its center. The orchestra itself was floating around the hall, drifting on the currents of their own music, somehow playing together even when one drifted so far that his seat almost rammed into the champagne tower.
I call it champagne, but, you know, it certainly wasn’t.
And there, covering the entire wall behind the podium, was a face I recognized from our hours of practicing my aim. A man I hated with every fiber of my being, who had absolutely no idea that I even existed.
The President of the Alliance himself, Phellied Straiddies, his stern face glaring down at us, covered in the broad colors of the Alliance: bright red and sunshine yellow framed with silver. Even in this picture that was supposed to show the best side of him, he looked as if he had just been gifted a fruit bouquet and was not going to accept it lying down.
Huge columns the width of trailers surrounded the entire dance floor, but there was a surprisingly small turnout of people, or so it seemed, shrunken in relation with the immensity of the hall. Where the atrium had been crowded, this hall lost all sense of scale and dwarfed the attendees. On the dance floor, the gowns of the rich and famous of the Alliance twirled in unison, each of the beings so graceful on their torturous shoes, the rainbow of satin colors draping every species that graced these halls.
I looked up, eyesight flickering with spots of color, finding the thin catwalk the Alliance military were diligently patrolling. They were tiny against the unicorns in the sky. Even so, I could still make out their weapons: rather large guns for such an event. The scale of it all was making me dizzy.
Kork and I made our way across the hall, avoiding the spinning dancers as they twirled, smiling, following the difficult steps to perfection. Wasn’t going there right away. I scanned the hors d’oeuvres, wary from my past experiences with the food on Da-Duhui. But with a now-iron stomach and being slightly used to the food on this planet, maybe I could take a step in the right direction.
Okay, purple octopus tentacles, I’ll give you a try.
That was a mistake.
It was not octopus.
It wasn’t completely dead, either.
With a swipe of my hand, I grabbed a napkin, pretending to gently dab at my face while actually spitting out the wiggling remains into the paper that hid my mouth. I glanced over at Kork, afraid he might have seen, but he appeared to be doing the same thing. His eyes went wide like I had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.
“So, uh, you and Zander?”
He just had to go there? And I, who was trying to avoid giving my translator an opportunity to speak for me, here I had to go answering things.
“Long two months,” I said.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked. “You seem to be avoiding conversation.”
“Oh, it’s not you,” I said, tapping the spot behind my ear. “We found me a replacement translator, but it’s not very reliable and keeps trying to sell people gimmicks. I’d rather someone else do all the talking.”
“You can’t be here,” came a voice, aghast. I didn’t turn, hoping to be forgotten, as I dropped the napkin into the trash, obscuring the action with the ruffles of my dress. But who would know me here? Here, of all places? Kork seemed more confused than I was.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, a hint of laughter in their voice. “Sally Webber, is that you?”
I spun on my heels and pra
ctically fell over in shock. What were the odds? Another gala. Another planet. Another time. And yet Sekai was standing in front of me yet again, more medals on her chest, more pride in her smile, brilliant and healthy green as I’d ever seen her.
“Impossible,” I stammered. “The odds are quite literally astronomical.”
The Killian high commander smiled. “Fancy seeing you here! My date didn’t tell me you were going to be here. Sir Red of Naz? I know you’ve heard of him.”
I turned back to Kork, who was trying very hard not to look confused. “Captain James T. Kork, may I present to you Sekai No-Oji, ambassador of the Killian homeworld.”
She clicked her heels together. “I’ve heard tales of your exploits, Captain. Let me rephrase that. I watch those tales religiously.”
“It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan,” he said, meeting her bow. “How do you two know each other?”
“Oh, Zander blew up my workplace to save her crashed spaceship from capitalism,” I said. No big deal.
“He knows?” she hissed. “Captain Kork knows the truth about the siblings?”
“Who doesn’t?” he muttered into his drink.
That would be a conversation for later, with fewer prying eyes. “What happened since the Da-Duhui gala? The robots—”
“I left shortly after I spoke to you. Missed them completely. But is it true? Was it really Zander and Blayde who caused the destruction?”
“Right to the point, aren’t you?” I said. “No, hey, Sally, how did you escape the terrible mind-controlled zombie people?”
“Well, I assumed the two points were related somehow,” she said, winking. “So, you did manage to find them again?”
“And we even saved the planet in the process,” I said, a little too smugly. “Not that you’d hear that in the news.”
“Ah, well, it’s too bad we didn’t get to see each other in action.” She took a large swig of something purple. “It’s good to see you alive and well, Sally Webber.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m glad I can help you all in your small way. Let’s not spoil the evening with criminal conversations. So very nice to meet you, Captain Kork.” She extended an arm to me. “Would you care to dance?”