But here she was, ready or not, on the arm of the Emperor of the Milky Way Galaxy (only they called it the DoOon Galaxy here), resplendent as only Mare could make her. Oh, she was breathtakingly lovely, all right; every mirror pillar reflected this phenomenal creature virtually floating along in her glow. She wore a brown gown that exactly matched the hue of her hair, and both had been somehow enhanced to make them seem more livingly lustrous than any ordinary woman deserved. Opalescent sequins glittered as she moved. She could have done without the mirror-polished floor, however; she was afraid her dainty hard-soled slippers would slip, putting her into an inglorious spin. She also wondered just what the men were looking at when they bowed their heads to her and gazed into that reflective surface. Most of all she was afraid that the butterflies in her stomach would erupt in a grotesque burp, making her die of shame three times before her blush reached full definition. In sum, fun was not the operative term at the moment.
Be calm. You are making a good impression.
Her nerves lost their ragged edges. What would she do without Seqiro! She reminded herself that every lady faced the same problems, and most of them survived satisfactorily. Anyway, this wasn’t forever. After the first dance things would start getting normal.
Ddwng brought her to the center of that stage. He made the little nod to the assemblage, and as one those hundreds returned it. Colene remained frozen, as she had been told to do; her turn was not quite yet.
“I am glad to revisit Planet Kyvrn,” the Emperor said. The miniature translation ball Colene wore at her throat, just above the nascent cleavage of her seemingly-too-low but actually-promising-more-than-could-be-delivered décolletage, murmured his words to her. She was surprised to see that many of the attending men and women wore similar balls. Apparently they could not understand Ddwng’s language any more than she could. That gave her another shot of confidence. A dozen more like it, and she might even begin to think about being at ease. But it would help if someone else made a slip first.
“I am sure any questions will soon be resolved,” Ddwng continued. “To that end I bring you my consort of the moment, Colene, who will be among you three days.” He made an eighth turn toward her, and Colene made the requisite head-nod to him, then did a slow pirouette and bowed more deeply to the audience, so that her upper gown line promised even more of her bosom than before. The material was adhesive, so there was no danger of even a tenth of an inch more exposure than Mare had decreed, which was a relief. She could stand on her head and nothing would pop out. But she might have a problem with her skirt. For a delicious instant she was tempted to do a cartwheel and really wow the audience. But that was her deathwish manifesting, and she had enough to occupy her attention already.
Then Ddwng took her in his arms and danced with her. He was smooth, evidently coached by his own null of the Porcine persuasion. Colene wondered whether he had sex with Sow. But the image wasn’t as insulting as intended, because that female swine was both beautiful and sweet-natured. No Miss Piggy there!
She followed his steps, and it was exactly as Stallion had shown her. It was a set format, hardly more challenging than the box step, and she could probably do it in her sleep. The weird thing was that moving in unison with Ddwng this way, being lovely in his arms, she could almost fool herself into thinking that he was a decent character. There was just something about dressing up, and about dancing, that made everything seem better than it was. But deep down she would never be fooled. Will you dance with me after my lobotomy, dear? She had to stifle a wry smile; it was her kind of humor. She had been afraid of physical rape, not realizing how much worse things could be. Her reproductive organs cut out of her and put into a cold sere laboratory…
Suddenly the dance was done. Ddwng made the little bow to her, then spun about and walked away. She was on her own.
The tableau was frozen. They were waiting for her. She looked at the circle of men, and spied the oldest and by his clothing the most important. Old men were hardly safe, but tended to be less dangerous than young ones. She walked slowly to him.
“I will dance first with the handsomest,” she said. She heard his ball translating as she spoke.
He stepped forward. “Governor Rrllo,” her ball said. “I thank you for this significant privilege.”
They danced in exactly the same fashion as before; the set routine was handy this way. His hands did not stray. Around them other couples now danced also. The ball was under way.
Engage him in dialogue.
Yes, so that Seqiro could tune in on Rrllo’s focused thoughts. Colene had a mission to perform, and her one-in-a-million chance of succeeding would become even less if she didn’t take advantage of every opportunity to try to understand these folk.
“I didn’t really choose you for your handsomeness,” Colene said to Rrllo. “I wanted to talk with you.”
“I am shocked to hear that,” he replied with a chuckle. Their two translation balls were close together and seemed to be talking to each other. “You thought I would know what’s going on behind the scenes?” The translations had become so facile that his idiom was rendered without hesitation into her idiom.
“Yes. I—” She brought a faintly woebegone look to her face, with little effort required. “I have almost no chance to figure out the problem, let alone solve it, but if there’s anything I can do, I’ll at least try. I thought perhaps you would help me get started.”
You aren’t fooling him, but he is intrigued. You have honored him by selecting him to dance, and he would like to help you. But he is wary.
“You have a better chance than most,” he said. “You have the ear of the Emperor, for the moment.”
“But what is it that the people here want?”
He shook his head. “That is no mystery. But the solution—that is the mystery.”
“It is all a mystery to me! This seems like a nice planet.”
“It is very nice,” he agreed.
He knows. But he doesn’t want to tell.
“Please, Rrllo! After the ball—may I see you? I mean, visit your house, get to know your family, talk with you off the record?”
He seemed taken aback. “Nothing is forbidden to a consort. But our private lives are of little interest.”
He remains wary. You may be trying to trick him into saying something treasonous.
So it was like that. Colene felt that old familiar deathwish-gamble urge coming on. It wasn’t that she truly needed to solve this riddle; she expected to fail regardless. It was that when she got into something, anything, the underlying nature of her started taking over, and the decorous rules started suffering.
“Do you know what Ddwng does to those who displease him?” she inquired.
The man stiffened. “I know.”
“Then you know that I face lobotomy if I mess up.” She wasn’t sure how true this was; it probably depended more on whether Darius messed up. But it was certainly a threat against her. And perhaps against any of the residents of the planet who contributed to that failure.
“That, no,” he said. “Surely not merely for failing an impossible mission.”