The Destiny Dance

"What happened?" Ola wondered.

"I hacked into my House computer and found out what my father has been doing for years. If I didn't leave my father would have had me killed. He has hated me and everyone else with a passion."

"You figured it out," Ola said.

"I read enough to figure out that he was planning something monstrous, against all Avarians, the Great Houses and the Sprawl alike. But I don't know precisely what."

Whatever story they might have been expecting, this was far from it. The silence between them stretched as they sat contemplating her. Finally, Bolly realized his bowl was empty. Again. "I'm going for more chowder," he said, getting up.

"What can I do?" Athowyn wondered when he was gone. "How can I pay back this debt I owe you, all of you, for trusting me, and saving my life?"

Ola appraised her critically. "Saving your life would not incur a debt from us. However, feeding you every day for a month, that will get expensive ... what can you do?"

Athowyn didn't hesitate. "I have advanced degrees in molecular biology, mathematics, and secure systems analysis, but my first love will always be miniature gravometric -- toys, essentially."

"Oh, is that all?" Bolly wondered around a mouth full of soup.

Ola's eyebrows shot up. "I know what they are," she said, her thumb gesturing back over her shoulder. "There are thousands of the little buggers all over my place... not moving, not working. Kids don't like it when their toys stop working -- they start to get into things that maybe they shouldn't -- "

Athowyn laughed. "That pretty much covers my whole childhood."

Ola's eyes darkened. "Athowyn, I'm not going to lie to you: this place -- this world you know as the Sprawl -- is like nothing you know; there are a thousand ways to die, on any given morning; one of which you've already faced up close. There are roving gangs, warlords, lone psychopaths, food shortages, disease -- and those are just the ills of our own making. Always seeking to exploit are the powerful nobles and their wealthy families and patrons in their great Keeps... and these days, more often than not, the only power they answer to, is the master of House Caer'Nin. Your father has gone mad over losing his wife all those years ago. He now seeks to destroy everyone else the same way he was destroyed."

Her thoughts clouding over, Athowyn said nothing. She wasn't sure what she thought.

"Yes, the very same master who is your father, though you may hate him, and he hates you," Ola continued. "Every denizen of the Sprawl knows and rightfully fears that most powerful of all the Great Houses. Where there is a single death, there might be a single murder; where there are 20,000 deaths, there is the House. The Caer'Nin are a shadow upon the Sprawl that cannot be burned away by arclight. There is not one psychopath murdering, nor one thief stealing in the Sprawl, who is not aware of this. Your House is all powerful. That is why you must earn our trust, just as we here will strive to earn yours. Grol Omer has become an evil man who daily does more evil deeds."

"My father is cruel, ruthless, vicious, xenophobic -- " And that's just to his daughter, Athowyn could have added. "But you're asking me to believe that he is... evil; that's something else entirely." Wasn't it? But the more she considered it she realized that Ola was right. She had seen the secret work orders with her own eyes; how could someone who cared about people's lives do this?

"Good and evil is something for the children to grow out of," Ola explained. "We here in this house believe that our actions define us, make our destiny. Our actions, like our destinies, lie all around in the lives we live from moment to moment. As your father is, so the Caer'Nin do; as you and I are, so this small family does. We mirror them; they us. If we honor them, they honor us."

Athowyn experienced a brief, fragile moment of clarity then, an insight so sudden and yet frail it was drowned nearly as quickly as it surfaced: there were parts of her naive childhood concerning her parents when her mother still lived; times when they seemed to be literally at war with other houses, only to have her father cavalierly redirect her sophisticated queries; moments of family life bizarrely interrupted by his shrill, incomprehensible rage; all of which began to make sense in the context Ola was casting it. Her father, like every other father, had been far from perfect.

Yet ... it was her father. Her House. Even through all the hatred and spite he had shown toward her over the last 10 years, there was still some part of him in her, some of her in him. Perhaps that partly explained his hatred of her, the human -- perhaps he'd realized long ago that he was a reflection of her, and his mind could not abide being reflected -- even partially -- as human. Not anymore.

It must have been plain to Ola by the exchange of emotions on Athowyn's face, that she was on some level connecting with her. Guardedly pleased, she continued, "There is no one here who could prevent someone with an advanced degree in systems analysis from hacking into their files, especially not an old cook like me. I will need your promise that you'll stay out of them, no matter your curiosity. All will be revealed, in time. For the time being, if you could repair those toys, I promise you they will be put to good use."

Athowyn nodded gratefully, her mind already on searching out some tools appropriate for gravimetrics.

"First things first though," Bolly interrupted, returning with what had to be his eighth bowl of chowder. "The destiny dance."

"Dance?" Terror knotted Athowyn's stomach up: dreadful childhood memories of not once being picked as a dance partner by self-involved Avarian boys, dance after dance, year after year, bubbled to the surface unbidden. She thought she had put those childhood rejections behind her years ago.

Rising a little too quickly, she mumbled, "I have to ... find tools," and rushed out, nearly stumbling in her haste. They stared after her.

Chapter 4

Traditional Avarian dances -- wild, nude affairs that were essentially thinly disguised orgies -- had long since fallen out of favor, even hundreds of years ago when the first human explorers came out to see what was worth having on this remote rock of hers. Back then of course, the only mating that took place, was done at the dances. In those earliest of days, the dawn of her race, the hardships Avarians faced in the wilds were terrifying and manyfold, and the dances -- where many gathered for a short time -- were momentary safe havens where all could let down their guard.

In the fullness of time, as her race evolved into true sentience, Avarians rewarded themselves with the discovery of fire, the wheel, tool use, ceremonial burial, the great chemical reaction humans knew as electricity, and then mathematics, superconductors, anti-gravity concepts, Avarian genome mapping, finally miniature gravimetrics; with them came ego, arrogance, greed -- so much so that when the first alien ships landed bearing strange beings from a place called Earth, they caused little stir. Each recognized in the other a being at precisely the same emotional, intellectual, and spiritual development, long before the first xenobiologists had broken down the language barriers.

Despite their many similarities, human contact with Avaria still shattered that small world beyond all repair. Humans brought with them the entirely alien concept of 'lesser' and 'greater' folk. Even though Avarians had long struggled with arrogance and greed, in a society of equals their impact was naturally muted. When the earthers introduced the concept of feudalism, arrogance found its perfect expression. Suddenly whole populations needed 'protection'... great Keeps were built about the oldest and greediest Houses. Wars raged, famine decimated. By some human estimates, Avaria had suffered more from two hundred years of human contact, than all of humanity had suffered in its previous two thousand years.

And yet... individual humans were never hateful. Many more than could be allowed applied for Citizen status. Individual Avarians and humans fell in love by the tens of thousands, had sympathetic biologies that even allowed them to conceive, given certain very minor genetic treatments. Avarians vacationed on Earth, earthers here. Her mother -- human head of a small, unprofitable microbiology firm -- gave an impassioned speech at a University on the need for more patronage dollars for genetics research, in the High Avarian dialect, a hard language to learn; her father only had to meet her once to know he had fallen in love.

As the old ruinous feudalism morphed into something more familiar to the naturally liberal and democratic Avarian people, crawfish chowder slammed into them, and then karaoke and organized school dances -- the latter two of which should have been left on Earth, in her opinion.

Ola's house was no school, but the large dining area had been cleared of tables and swept. Lights were dimmed and brightly saturated rotating spotlight beams of every color began flying across the room in no particular order. The dance floor became a riot of primary reds, blues, and greens, with deep shadows in between. A theatrical, pleasingly-scented mist spread across the floor from hidden outlets; no doubt meant to inspire in them the lusts and urges of their primal selves from long ago, or so the ads would claim, Athowyn thought wryly. No doubt the whole idea had been concocted by an earther, and sold to her people for unimaginable profits.

Having mastered her momentary terror, she managed to wander back from her 'tool search' just in time to hear the hypnotic beat begin its magic. Her mother had given her not just a rare, critical intelligence, but a deep love of how great music moves one's emotions. She would never consent to dancing -- Athowyn would never endure that kind of overt rejection again -- but she would not have missed the music itself for anything. No matter the precise style or speed of dance, it was bound to have music.

Several couples filtered in first, greeting her respectfully where she sat alone by a small table of refreshments, before wandering off into the deep shadows beyond the stage. Single women and men of all ages drifted in, not one failing to acknowledge her. Word travels fast in a small building, Athowyn thought. If they all lived at Ola's house, there were more folk living here than she thought.

When Tommi entered, she waved him over. He sat down by her, unsurely glancing over into the far side of the hall.

"Where are all the kids?" Athowyn wondered.

"Their dance is in a couple of days," he explained. "This is for adults only. It's my first adult dance, actually." Giving one of his insidious grins he added, "I'm still a virgin."

"Why would you tell me that?" Athowyn wondered suspiciously.

"Sheer boredom," Tommi grinned.

Athowyn wasn't sure what to make of his admission, but she was not confused at all by Tommi's subsequent hesitating glance across the room.

"What's her name?" she asked him.

"Who?" His large eyes blinked at her in confusion.

"This girl across the room you want to dance with, and who doesn't know you exist."

He blushed, but admitted, "Lara... she's sitting with one of her girlfriends almost right on top of that mist-dispenser."

It didn't take long for Athowyn to pick her out of the steadily growing crowd -- a pretty young woman who was one of the few redheaded Avarians she had seen; she laughed and joked with her companion, obviously enjoying herself.

"She's gorgeous, Tommi... who is she?"

"Well, she teaches art up the street from here, and she's..." Tommi stared across the room sadly.

"She's... what, Tommi?"

Tommi scrunched up his eyes at her in exasperation. "She's also an amateur comedian -- she's very, very, very... funny!"

Athowyn's hand went up to her mouth involuntarily. "My stars... I understand your dilemma." She wouldn't wish his giggling fit on her worst enemy, not in these circumstances.

"Here's what you do: when she talks to you, focus on something else entirely for the moment, something that stimulates the small minds of Avarian males like nothing else."

"Like what?" He looked so blank he must have no clue.

"Work with me, Tommi -- what do young men like you think about, you know, all the time?"

She could see Tommi's brain processing the information by the way his emotions played across his face completely unguarded. "So you think I should pretend I'm ... kissing her, when she starts to speak?"

"All right," Athowyn nodded, raising an eyebrow. "Let's call it ... kissing."

"What else would we call it? It's kissing."

Athowyn took a long pull from her cocktail. The odds were astronomically against it-- and she should know, she had actually done the math just now -- but she was sitting across from the only other nerd in existence who was socially dorkier than she was.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"So how do I know your idea will work?" Tommi now wondered. "Once I start giggling it's too late..."

"I get that," Athowyn commiserated. How much time had gone by? Half an hour, more? That little bit of punch she'd had definitely lowered her inhibitions.

"As a trained scientist, I would be setting up an experiment, checking hypotheses against experimental results ..." She knew the moment she spoke that she should have kept her mouth shut. There was no backing out of it now.

The little bugger zeroed right in on that too; he wasn't nearly as slow as everyone thought he was. "So I should experiment, try it with someone I trust and who is so not funny," he added confidently. "Like you." He cocked his head at her engagingly.

"Tommi, you're a handsome young man, but I don't even know you -- do you really think I want you to fantasize about kissing me?"

"All right," he dead-panned, "Let's call it kissing."

"You are a bad, bad boy, Tommi," she noted. "But I had to try... " Athowyn got the strangest feeling that the young man was totally playing her, as incredible and paranoid as the thought seemed.

"I know," Tommi grinned, getting up. "Come on -- we'll be the first ones." He held out his hand and waited.

It hadn't escaped her, Athowyn thought dully. Now everyone would be looking at only one place -- her. All these tall, gorgeous Avarian women and lithe men staring at little old her in Bolly's old mechanic's coveralls. She thought she might puke to commemorate the occasion properly.

On the other hand, there was something about the beat she connected with; perhaps some long lost childhood memory floating just out of reach of her consciousness.

She reached for his hand as he led her out to the middle of the floor. Tommi starting to move his hips and waved his hands above his head. He twirled and reached for the sky.

"You're mostly just standing there," Tommi remarked flatly. "Shouldn't you be moving more, as though you were, you know, dancing? You're making me look bad."

"I will hit you, Tommi, I swear," Athowyn shot back. "I'm just getting my bearings -- I've never danced."

"Do what I do," Tommi suggested. Now why hadn't that occurred to her?

His arms barely moving, he seemed to gently roll this way and rock back the other, his body sometimes turning halfway to one side or the other, always in time to the music, always gracefully... as though the music itself animated him, sometimes in unexpected ways, but always somehow natural. Tommi's muted clothes were occasionally bathed in glaring reds and blues, and then just as quickly gone into shadow. The scented mist they were dancing in lay heavy in her nostrils and her head started to swim.

Without understanding how -- perhaps that was the whole point -- she realized she was dancing. Slowly, awkwardly -- but surely she was loosening up and improving by the second.

A couple joined them, and then another; it seemed only moments and everyone in the room was on their feet, dancing all around them.

Tommi was shouting something at her; it seemed as though the volume turned up. He leaned closer. "Are you ready for our experiment? This is about scientific results, you know; you're not supposed to enjoy it."

She'd almost forgotten, she was having so much fun. "I'll pretend I'm the very funny Lara, and you focus on kissing -- or something -- to distract yourself, right... " Athowyn leaned closer, yakking at him furiously. He nodded and grinned, and again nodded and grinned.

Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw someone dancing topless. When she looked around though she couldn't find them.

When she turned back, Tommi was gone. He must have convinced himself that her theory worked, for she saw him slide himself over to within a few centimeters of a delighted Lara. She hoped for his sake they kept the music cranked way up; he was a good kid deserving of everything good in life. Her mission accomplished, she looked forward to passing out headfirst into her cocktail... she danced, for the first time ever! That was something worthy of celebrating.

For some reason she thumped ever so gently into a thick, blue, lavender scented beam that someone had just put right next to her -- why would they do that? She couldn't get to her table... stars above! -- it was Bolly.

Chapter 5

He was all cleaned up for the dance, dressed in a dark blue shirt that set off not just his sparkling blue eyes, but also his faintly blue skin, and big pouty lips. As usual his pale yellow hair wanted to go every which way, but mostly over his forehead; back over his elongated, pointed ears; down the nape of his neck.

The scent of lavender soap washed over her as he tilted his head slightly toward her to say something -- she couldn't focus because at that moment, with the way his bright, sincere eyes smiled at her, she thought he was the most handsome creature in the universe, and could not for the life of her stop repeating that thought. Her breath shortened and her palms became sweaty.

She wanted to tear his clothes off, to run her hands over his hard, well defined pecs; desperately needed to run her fingers over his chiseled stomach, to follow that trail of curly hair into his pants ... stars above she ached to touch him!

"I said," Athowyn finally heard, "Why did Tommi have an erection?"

"Umm, I don't know... " she lied desperately, looking for a way to cram some sensible thoughts back in her head. How did she get so horny?

"And not just any erection," Bolly added mischievously. "I could see it from across the room, and I don't have augments. Anywhere."

Athowyn stared at Tommi, successfully dancing with Lara. "Why that little bugger... 'kissing' my ass!"

"That totally explains it," Bolly said drily.

"Can I ... would you like to dance?" Athowyn ventured.

"I've been watching you, waiting for Tommi to leave, for an hour," was his reply. "It was time well spent." His huge, sincere eyes blinked at her as he stepped close. Athowyn thought she might be able to see to infinity in those pale blue orbs.

She could smell his delicious breath as he tilted his head down toward her. "There are parts of you that are ... not so ugly."

Athowyn's pulse raced. "Which parts?"

"Your round ears, for one," he said, slowly tracing an ear with one of his strong fingers. Tiny shivers spread through her scalp and down her spine. "I've never shared the distaste for the human body shape that some of my kin do."

"As long as it's strictly clinical then, I'll let you get away with that ... observation."

His finger moved lower, slowly tracing a line down her neck. Shocks jabbed and flew under his touch. For some reason her eyes closed and would not open.

"Your neck is deficient, though ... it needs something."

Through a blur of pleasurable sensations, Athowyn was able to wonder, "Needs something?"