Continued... was made by Finny on 4/17/2003 at 1:14:15 AM. It was made in response to The Dancer/Finny Valentine's Day Special Finale: Fate's Misleading Smile posted by Fin Fang Foom on 4/17/2003 at 1:12:44 AM.
SHAG, at its core, was a consortium of wildly disparate groups--and as both founder and director, Paul Drossen had the maddening job of keeping them together. He had to convince the military that the results could be weapons, he had to convince the corporations that the results would be profitable, and he had to convince the scientists that the results would be fascinating. He did all this because it took their participation--all of them--for the organization to work. And while he had a reason to give to each of them, to explain why SHAG existed…the real reason was something he’d never told anyone.
Paul sat at his desk, deep within the SHAG complex. Save for a halo of light around his workspace, it was pitch black. He liked it that way. Spread across the desk were papers regarding the merging and manipulation of alien DNA...the fruit of another day of work. And while they’d made progress, they hadn’t gotten any closer to Paul’s ultimate goal: Himself.
Just looking at him, you couldn’t tell. He had black hair, typical office clothes…nothing at all unusual or striking, on the surface. The only odd thing about him was that he was an orphan; a John Doe--he was abandoned as a small child, and he’d never been claimed or identified. “Paul” was adopted quickly, and just as quickly, he forgot the unusual events that had led him to his current life. He didn’t feel at all different. At least, not until he was sixteen--when the hallucinations started.
His world sped up to colors that set his mind on fire. It was a sort of vertigo, except it was more than just his balance…it was his sense of being, and his sense of time and place. He was caught up in a flood of warped images and distorted sounds. He managed to hide his hallucinations from his parents, but the surreal onslaughts were getting worse and worse…and one day, they got him killed.
They were partying on a roof--everyone had gone back inside, and right before he did, he freaked out and somehow fell off the building. He made sure to close his eyes. On the way down, he hit what he thought was a bird, as he experienced a light impact on his chest. Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t gone splat--he opened his eyes, and found that he was on the ground, relatively fine. His clothes were scuffed up a little, though. The impact from before had to be him hitting the alley, except he’d barely felt it.
While he was picking himself up, a gang--thinking him to be seriously injured--came up, and decided to see what kind of money he had on him. When he knew he had to fight, something happened inside him…and on the outside, as well. His skin turned blue, and he could feel his eyes charging with energy. He suddenly found himself possessed of strength, speed, skill, and other powers that he’d never known, before. It was like all of this had been etched inside him, it came so easily…and before he knew what was happening, he’d killed them. He powered down, panicked, and ran off.
Through research, he later learned two important things: First, that the hallucinations sounded like something from the fourth dimension. Second, he resembled a Skree alien…a genetically-altered one, anyway. He discovered that the Skrees were known as warriors, and that, for centuries, they’d been trying to use science to create the ultimate fighter. Looking at the qualities they wanted in such a fighter, he found them in himself…and he realized that he was their ideal, except he was from the future.
He managed to use his powers to transport himself to their homeworld, and looked into the DNA programs that were dedicated to creating this perfect warrior…but the more he explored, the more he realized that they weren’t really trying. Someone, somewhere in the Skree government, didn’t want this paragon to be achieved, though they loudly proclaimed the opposite.
So, he went back to Earth, worked to get degrees in genetics, and founded SHAG--a project not just meant to create new strains of alien physiology, but, in theory, to create himself. Reverse-engineering was out of the question; his own DNA was strangely encrypted, and unable to be fully studied.
That left him with precious few options. Earlier in the day, he’d teleport-kidnapped Wang, in the hopes that he could get access to information about the future…perhaps a historical insight into why the Skree wouldn’t want their ideal to exist. And now, on TV, he saw that Wang had landed in a small Southern town. All he needed was a legit-sounding reason to go in…
Paul picked up the phone, and hit a three-digit extension. “I need at least two field teams to be ready within the hour--Wang has landed in Georgia, and intel says he has at least some alien crew members. This could be a huge, huge opportunity for us to get samples. I’m going to be personally supervising this one, there’s too much that could go wrong…”
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Hoki--who was getting really tired of waiting for the dinner to start--was pacing the halls of Wang’s ship, rethinking her plan. In theory, he was an ideal candidate for her to hook up with…powerful, but without much willpower or direction. He’d be easy to manipulate. But she hadn’t counted on how determined he was to get that girl…
Earlier, Hoki had done everything but physically throw herself at him. Unfortunately, he was in his own little world, seemingly ignoring her and occasionally mumbling about The Girl. And now, she couldn’t even get to him--he was in his “inner sanctum”, preparing for tonight.
As she wandered through metal corridors, she’d occasionally pick up snippets of conversation between the ship’s personnel…most of the crew regarded this current mission as a vacation, and none of them complained about the fact that they were bending over backwards to be diplomatic. Also, they seemed happy to hear that Wang was “finally going to get some action”. His troops didn’t fear him or hate him--they mostly seemed to feel sorry for him. She was really starting to wonder how he’d ever become a conqueror in the first place.
Hoki ran through a number of scenarios in her head: The girl could fall for him after getting a taste of power. The girl could get scared and reject him. The girl could fall for him for a bit, and then change her mind and break his heart. But, the bottom line was, she couldn’t just hope that the girl would end up out of the picture…she’d probably have to do something about it.
The worst part about all this, for Hoki, was trying to keep her mouth shut. It utterly drove her up the wall. She wanted to say things like “Get over it”, “Stop acting like a lovesick loser”, “You have everything and you still aren’t happy?”, and more, but that’d ruin everything. She’d been curbing her natural sarcasm ever since she saw where he lived, in hopes of getting him to like her. Still, a part of her thought that nothing--absolutely nothing--was worth going through this kind of repression…
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The Darth Vader theme was blaring in Wang’s massive bedroom suite. He’d lowered the lights, and was now swimming in murky half-darkness. While he couldn’t really see the walls or other structures, his possessions became hazy color within the black, which reminded him of exotic, far-off galaxies. A dark crimson blaze was breathing in the fireplace; he loved the smell of vanilla-cedar, particularly the variety found in the 38th century, on the world of Ryson. Steam from the shower he’d taken was still pouring out of the large, double-doored bathroom.
Putting on the costume--and making a big, melodramatic deal about it--usually made him feel better, but it wasn’t doing the trick, this time. His nerves were shot, and it was all he could do to keep his hands from shaking. It was tonight. It was all about tonight…
“Mirror.” A panel on the wall slid open, revealing a large, circular mirror. He looked at himself. Covered in blue and black, a determined look on his face (or, rather, his face-like mask). He pointed at the reflective surface and, with a grand tone, said, “I am Wang, your host--I rule countless timelines and can crush anyone, but I’ve chosen to extend an offer of peace to…” He trailed off, his voice lowering a few octaves. “No, no, that’s stupid--no.”
Wang sighed, and then practiced his speech some more, while attempting to think of a less cheesy introduction. After a few tries, he decided that he might do better if he had his black, ceremonial cloak; he always felt better when he wore it. It had small prongs which latched into his costume’s shoulders. Each time the ominous Star Wars music would reach a flourish, he’d spin around to make the cape look even cooler. Then, the mirror asked him if he’d please turn that stupid music off because it’s been on repeat for the last hour.
“Fine, fine…” A cybernetic command from his helmet shut off the speakers.
Without thanking him, the mirror said, “People are starting to show up, you should probably get out there.”
“Yeah, I’m just going,” Wang lied. Many different types of people have many different types of best friends…Wang, of course, had a mirror. Mor hadn’t always been a mirror, though--he came from an alien race that, curiously enough, had thought-matrices that were easily stored in certain types of glass. After his previous body had lived out its usefulness, he was transferred to a batch of glass that was used to make all the mirrors for this particular ship. With his consciousness in every mirror, he could see and report back to Wang…it was the perfect way to keep an eye on the ship’s crew.
“I still don’t get why you’re doing this--you could pick any woman in the universe. And for that matter, I’m in the rooms of all your female ‘assistants’, and they’re…well, they’re extremely healthy girls, and I don’t think you should’ve stopped using them just because of some girl you’ve never met…”
“I met her once,” Wang said defensively.
“I still don’t see why--” Mor stopped, and started again. “You’ve met lots of amazing, important women in your travels. Women who really know what the Omniverse is like, who do fascinating things, and--and!--they’re cultured from more than just one backwards planet. Why pick some country girl?”
“First, she isn’t a country girl.” He turned his back on Mor. “But that’s what people like me do, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, people like me--gods and kings and anyone who’s super-powerful--we fall for, for mortal peasant girls and other women like that.” He paused, just realizing something, and commented, “A lot of times it’s young virgins, actually, which kinda makes you wonder about the people running the universe.” He shook his head, and, back on-topic, said, “You know the legends. We come down from above to romance them--and sometimes impregnate them, except I can skip that part because there’s birth control now. You know who I’m talking about…Zeus and all his human girlfriends. Prince Charles and Di. That one other British royalty guy in the nineteen teens or twenties, that gave up his status because he loved a common girl. Anyway, for people like me, that’s just what’s supposed to happen. That’s how it happens.”
“Oh, this is about that ? How you’re always saying you’re just going through the motions of all this?”
“Hey, this--all of this--” Wang gestured around the room. “--was never my idea. It just happened. You know that.” He didn’t say anything for a good thirty seconds, and then, “I really do love her. This isn’t just something I’m expected to do…but since it is keeping with tradition, I’m using it as an excuse to do what I want, for once.”
Before Mor could respond, a tiny voice sounded in Wang’s helmet, and he nodded. Shortly after that, he said “Great” flatly.
“What?”
“My idiot intel people--who I told not to spy on her, but were doing it anyway--said that she isn’t coming to the thing tonight. She thinks it’s crazy to get on a ship that could take off at any second. Dammit, this whole thing was just to get a chance to talk with her…”
Hesitantly, Mor said, “…I hate suggesting this, but…if you want to get a last-minute date with her, you’re going to need some kind of trick up your sleeve. Maybe you’d better talk to Hoki…”
------------------------
At the Statelis farm, the guests were starting to arrive. Some came alone, some came in pairs, and a few whole families had arrived. They were confused at first, looking at the other guests questionably, and then walking up the dirt road towards the gargantuan blue ship.
But first, they had to go through a gauntlet of law enforcement personnel and the media. Cops warned them of the danger, but said that, legally, they couldn’t keep them from going in. Cameras were shoved in their faces, asking if they thought it was safe; why they were going.
A just-past-middle-aged man in cheap formal clothes: “I figure, the government doesn’t do anything like this. We give ‘em money and they ignore us…at least this guy is treating us with respect. I’m willing to hear what he’s got to say.”
Two spiky-haired teenage boys, mostly in black: “We ain’t missin’ out on this! This is, like, the biggest thing ever to happen here, I ain’t gonna sit at home and do algebra when this stuff’s goin’ on…I hope he nukes the whole place, man! Yeah! Up yours, Starcross!”
Preppie-looking jr. high girls: “Mary Lou Landers’ stupid little party? It looks really, really lame, when we’ve got this to go to. It’s just like Hollywood awards, with the cameras and the big fancy place…wait, is that camera live? Oh, god, I told my parents I was at the library…”
A huge amount of children and parents in dirty overalls: “We heard he’s givin’ stuff away, and we need the money.”
A group of middle-aged men (and a few women) who looked a bit shell-shocked: “Starcross doesn’t have a mayor, but we’re the city council, and we’ve been tol--we’re going to try to find out about this trade deal he’s proposing.”
A lone thirty-something man in an ugly brown suit, with horribly messy brown hair and plastic glasses: “My wife gambled our money away, left me for another woman, and I have to work in a flower shop six days a week just to afford the alimony. Yeah, maybe he’ll lock us all in there and take off and never let us come back…but I don’t think I’m that lucky…”
-----------------------------
“He’s on the move.”
Dinnertime in Starcross heralded a long-shadowed moment, in which vehicles formed endless lines at restaurant drive-throughs--but otherwise, the streets were abandoned. The natural light went from yellow and clear to orange and glassy. With the people mostly gone, birds came out in droves, bouncing on flimsy branches and happily hopping across deserted asphalt.
In a mostly-residential area of Starcross, Courtney was getting some fresh air. She’d put on her running clothes--this wasn’t California or Florida, so she didn’t feel comfortable jogging around in nothing but spandex shorts and a sports bra. She wore a grey windbreaker and black “windbreaker pants” over them, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She liked to eat late, and she usually tried to get in some exercise before then. Their one nice neighbor had sprained her ankle, so she couldn’t walk her puppy…Courtney had volunteered to take it out. It was a black, scruffy, mop-like thing, which expressed ninety percent of its emotion by losing bladder control.
Two blocks away, around the corner, Wang and Hoki were hiding behind a white church building that was barely bigger than a house. Hoki had a Little Black Dress on, as she’d been all ready to go to the dinner, when Wang told her what was going on. She asked him if he was ready.
“Yeah, I guess…I just hate having to do it with an audience…”
Hoki blinked, and looked around questioningly.
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“I think he’s still duckin’ behind that church, Jimmy.”
In a gold-and-white police cruiser, two members of the Highway Patrol were sitting, drinking lukewarm coffee. Some housewife had called in a sighting of “that guy from TV, I think he’s one of those super-people from the city”, and they’d been told to keep an eye on him, but not to interact with him in any way.
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“He’s not on the move--he’s hesitating. I think he’s waiting for the girl.”
In a stone-brick church bell-tower, several blocks away, the CIA had set up a telephoto array. These agents had been instructed to find out what, exactly, Wang was up to.
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“Target is aware of us, but doesn’t seem to care.”
Behind a large grate built into a curb, a SHAG agent in a bluish-grey body suit and high-tech goggles was watching them. He was actually being punished for not performing one of his routine duties; the real action was going to be happening near the ship…
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“I hate being a hedge.”
Fin Fang Foom didn’t like being in non-urban, wide-open environments, as that just wasn’t his specialty. Blending in, in such a place, required both inventiveness and the willingness to humiliate oneself. But he didn’t want Wang to be in the middle of potential victims, unsupervised…
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“Let’s get to it!”
Hoki’s hand glowed, creating flat, faded stripes of color, which twisted into two small globes of tightly-wrapped light. She shot them into the street, and they sought out the dog’s eyes. It was suddenly convinced it saw something, as it started yapping and managed to get away from Courtney, who went chasing after it…
When it was half a block away, Hoki pushed Wang right in the dog’s path. He aimed a device at it--and then realized that it wasn’t the tractor-beam, it was a disintegrator, and he couldn’t shoot it with that…while he searched for the right weapon in his Nth-dimension pockets, the dog went right by him.
He cursed, pulled out the tractor-beam, and snagged the dog with it. It gave a half-choked yelp, and he reeled it in. The illusion vanished.
Upon seeing Wang, Courtney’s run had slowed to a hesitant walk…now, she had absolutely no idea what to do. He quickly went up to her, and said, “This must be your dog, good thing I was--um, good thing I was just standing here minding my own business.” It sounded scripted because it was; he had his lines flashing across his mask’s lenses.
But he’d forgotten to let go of the dog--he was actually holding it a bit too tightly, as it was whining and squirming uncomfortably. She gave a polite cough, and he gave it to her. She managed a “…hi. Uh, thanks.”
He introduced himself as “The Mighty Wang”, and she almost--almost!--burst out laughing, but managed to hold it in.
“I’m Courtney.”
A few seconds of silence went by. Desperate for common ground, he said, “You’ve probably seen me on TV…I’m hosting a dinner tonight, in my ship…”
As if it were the most normal thing in the world, she casually commented that she’d heard about that.
“Are you coming?”
“Uhh, I’m not sure…”
“Well, consider this a personal invitation.” Not wanting her to think he was asking her out, though he was, he added, “Some people are kind of hesitant about it, so I thought I’d go around and, um, invite people. Personally.”
She started to say something, stopped, and said, “Sure. Sure, I’ll be there.”
“Okay!!” He calmed himself, and--in a more dignified way--said that he’d see her there.
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“So far, this party sucks. You can actually hear people over the music, there’s no mosh pit, and that mud-monster DJ must come from some timeline with horrible taste.”
dull thud , the young, dark-haired man in jeans and a black “Pop = Pap” t-shirt, was nursing an awful lime drink of some kind. He was lingering by the refreshments table, which was covered with things he’d never seen before. They were apparently in Wang’s “Grand Hall”, a huge room with a stage and round tables on one half, and an unused dance floor on the other. It was somewhat dark, but blue strobes managed to keep people from walking into each other. Small crowds had gathered on the dance floor, as the residents of Starcross sought out friends and family. Preoccupied human- and alien-looking servers were bustling about, apparently with a lot of work to do.
Lisa--still clad in a sleeveless top and tight pants both made of leather--was rocking on her heels impatiently. She grabbed thud’s arm and dragged him onto an empty patch of the dance floor. “C’mon, if this Wang guy is gonna try to kill us, we probably only have a few minutes to goof off…”
After watching her dance for a few seconds, he said, “I really, really joined the LL in the wrong era. Does the LoR have any openings? Or do you need a sidekick? I don’t mind getting put in bright colors and drawing fire away from you, if we can share the same place…”
“~~Speak for yourself, Boy Wonder.~~”
Fin Fang Foom had shapeshifted on a tuxedo--with holes for his wings and tail, of course. He went over and tapped Goldeneyed on the shoulder. “Everything’s clean…no poison or anything like that.”
He nodded. “Where did you go?” Bry had been getting worried; he didn’t like being left in charge, especially when they were surrounded by enemy forces…
“I was following Wang--he actually left to ask some girl to the party. Some girl that lives here.”
“Huh. Weird…”
“Has the Chronicler showed up? He said he was going to be doing some investigation into that center of the Parodyverse thing.”
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
“Don’t ask me why, but--with all the changes in the Parodyverse, I wonder if that’s what’s making Wang act so weird. I mean, think about all the time-travel he’s done, all the chronal energy he’s been exposed to…maybe when reality gets messed up, it messes up him, somehow.”
“Or,” Dancer said, walking up behind him, “It could be some really, really simple thing. Not everything needs a crazy-complex superstuff answer, Mr. Foom.” She put her hands on his shoulders and cooed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux…”
Goldeneyed mumbled something about him having to go, and Finny quickly removed her hands and blurted out “She’s kidding.”
He left anyway.
Dancer smiled. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get you used to public displays of affection, so when your future girlfriend comes along, you won’t faint when she--”
“I don’t need to get used to it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. By the way--did you hear that they’re betting on what happened when we were in the So-So Place? They all have their theories…”
Thankfully, they were interrupted by some human-looking, tuxedo-wearing functionary, who was now up on the stage. All the light in the room fell on him.
“Welcome, everyone, to what I hope is the first of many dinners that we’ll be hosting for you.” He cleared his throat awkwardly; he didn’t seem to like public speaking--his words were stilted at times. Or maybe he was just under a lot of pressure to make this work. “Wang believes that his empire and your town can mutually benefit each other, and he’s prepared a multimedia presentation for you…you’ll probably want to be seated while you watch it. I know not all the chairs are lined up right, but just turn them around and--yeah, like that. After it’s over, the food will be served, and the gifts will be handed out. Thanks for coming.”
He hustled off the stage, which went dark, and a three-dimensional holographic screen formed over it. On the LL’s mind-network, Ziles shot Finny an empathic message that the screen was harmless, which Al B. Harper confirmed.
A lot of grand-sounding music and melodramatic narration kicked off the presentation, which reminded Finny of typical carefully-packaged hype. There were shots of impressive factories and bustling alien cities, and statistics on how their empire was getting rich, including the alleged benefits of forming a trade agreement with them.
Finny groaned under his breath…there probably wasn’t going to be a deathtrap, and he’d have to watch this whole stupid thing…
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Wang stood on the huge ramp that led outside, waiting. It looked like a big, metal wedge, and it had been designed to deploy armored vehicles. He knew he only had a few minutes to collect his thoughts, and all the brooding and worrying he’d been doing--which everyone had told him to do less of--suddenly felt like nowhere near enough. And then, there she was.
Courtney wore a faded purple outfit, which really made her skin seem dark and rich. She had on a caftan--it had a slit up one side, showing just a teensy bit of thigh. The upper half of the dress was in the style of a halter top, showing much of the skin on her back, and she had her hair up. Most of the time, she didn’t like wearing this; not only did it make her back feel naked, but she always worried that her upper arms were a bit fat…Amy always told her she was being stupid and that she looked like an Italian supermodel, but still.
Wang bowed humbly, took her hand, and kissed it. She apologized for being late (she had to grab a shower after jogging), and he said it was no problem at all. “They’re in the middle of a special presentation in there, but it’s kind of boring, and it’ll take a while…would you like to join me for some appetizers?”
“Uh, sure.” Getting alone with him didn’t sound like the best idea, to her, but she’d heard that the LL was going to be there, and she was sure they’d look out for everyone.
He started to go inside, and then extended his arm, which she took. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
She gave a soft smile. “Well, thanks for inviting me.”
They went past dark-green-armored guards who saluted, and down ornate halls with lots of paintings and exotic rugs. Desperate for small talk, he asked, “So, is this your first time on a temporal warship?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“It really isn’t a big deal or anything…you have ships like this in your era, except they can’t fly, they can’t go through time, and they aren’t quite as big…but other than that, uh…”
A large metal door slid open, leading into darkness, with flashes of muffled light and sound. She saw the edge of the crowd in there. To the right was a barely-lit set of stairs, and he gestured for her to go right up.
“We can hang out in the balcony until it’s time to go down.”
“Sounds good.”
The balcony itself was a small, round room, with navy carpeting. Scarlet drapes covered everything except for a glass partition that overlooked the great hall. There was a square table, which was actually made out of some kind of wood, with two matching chairs on either side. They sat down, and a silvery octopus-man brought them trays of biscuits, salads, and more.
Courtney warily looked at the food, and Wang said, “If you want to know what something is, don’t be afraid to ask--this is stuff that people from 2003 have never seen.”
They started to eat, and she got the feeling that he was waiting for her to say something. “So, um…you’re a time-traveling conqueror. What’s that like?”
“Well, I don’t actually do that much conquering. It’s not like I’m a warlord or something. I’m basically an Emperor--and since my empire is such a big target, I end up getting involved in a lot of conflicts…”
“Yeah, I can see how that’d happen.”
They continued to eat, and a few moments passed. Though he already knew the answer, he asked, “What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m in real estate.” A second later, she laughed. “Oh, God, that sounds pretentious. No, it’s just a job, I’m not really into it…”
“I know the feeling.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, uh…I wasn’t always like this. I actually come from this era, more or less.”
She looked up from her salad, surprised. “I didn’t know that…”
“Well, actually--we met once. It was in 2001, I think.” He put both hands on his helmet, and pencil-thin bursts of steam gusted out. Underneath, he was a twentysomething guy, with messy brown hair and a goatee. He actually had a slacker look to him.
“Wow, you’re, um…young.” She reddened. “I didn’t mean it like that, I--”
“I know. It’s okay.” He shrugged it off. “Anyway, I used to be just another poor grad student with a science major. And a few weeks before all the crazy stuff happened, I was driving through Georgia, and I stopped to eat in Starcross. I--being the clutz I am--I tripped over something or other and made a mess, and you were eating there too, and you helped clean it up.”
Her eyes drifted to one side, as she tried to recall…
Hastily, he said, “It’s okay if you don’t remember. It was just for a few seconds.”
“What happened after that? I mean, the ‘crazy stuff’…what exactly was it?”
“Oh, uh…I kinda discovered a new way to time-travel.”
“Really? Cool.”
“I don’t want to sound too hung-up on myself, but, uh…the previous versions of it all had little problems. And there was this scientist who had a famous quote that said, ‘Whoever first discovers limitless time-travel will automatically turn into a modern god’ or something like that. And that’s pretty much what happened.”
“How so?”
“Well, I suddenly had this whole world of opportunity…I knew what would happen, I knew what really had happened…it was like overnight success. I guess I did what everybody would do in that situation--I made myself rich, powerful, all that stuff. It didn’t take much work at all. I got access to all this cool future technology that I reverse-engineered, and over time, I really learned how to fight. Eventually, I got political power, and everything just snowballed from there. It was like I couldn’t help but gain power as I went. Anyway, I ended up like this--in charge of an empire. All this only took like six years, too, it was practically automatic. But I came back to just two years after I discovered the new kind of time-travel. Believe me, this was the last thing I ever pictured for myself…I’m just going with the flow.”
“Yeah, you don’t really strike me as the typical authority figure.” She quickly tacked on, “And that’s definitely meant as a compliment.”
He laughed. “I know.”
She pushed an empty plate away. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why Starcross?”
He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Honestly? Because you’re here.”
She stared down at the table, her expression having froze moments before.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to creep you out…it’s just, I don’t really meet any women that like me for me. They all have agendas, or they want something, or whatever. But, um, I kinda got the impression, just from the few seconds that we had together, that you might like me. And yeah, I know it’s stupid to pin all my hopes and dreams on something that short and long ago and probably meaningless, but…”
Quietly and reasonably--and also awkwardly--she said, “I’m…I’m flattered. It’s just that you don’t really know me, we’ve barely met…”
“Well, that’s why I invited you…so we could get to know each other. I’ve been talking about myself this whole time, it must be getting annoying--let’s hear about you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Okay, um…let’s see.”
He figured that she might need some prompting. “How would you describe your personality?”
“Well, I think I’m pretty easygoing. I mean, it’s not like I’m high-maintenance or anything--I hope.” Courtney briefly paused and interjected, “And for the record, this is all in the realm of ‘I hope’ and ‘I think’, because you never know, I could be completely wrong about myself,” she laughed. “My friends might come along and say ‘No, you really are this and this and whatever’.”
Wang smiled. “What do you like to do?”
“I--it sounds weird, but I collect antique clocks, and sometimes I fix ‘em up. I like photography, too. That’s…wow, that’s pretty much it. I mean, I hang out with friends, and we goof off a lot, but my life is really pretty simple, and I like it like that.” She shrugged. “Some people I know…it’s like they need a big, important job, or a lot of attention, or a trophy husband, or whatever. I never really cared about any of that. It’s probably because, when I was a kid--oh, wait, I won’t scare you off if I start talking about my childhood, will I? Some guys don’t like hearing even a little bit of the life story on the first date…”
He settled back into his chair, relaxed. “Go right ahead.”
“The thing is, I was mostly raised by my Grandma Glenda--though she wasn’t actually my grandma--and she was just living off of social security checks and her late husband’s retirement money…but she never complained about it. She knew how to be happy with what she had, and I guess from watching her, I learned how to be that way. I don’t know how to put it, I just feel…secure. With who I am, where I am in life, all that stuff.”
Wang glanced down at the great hall, and said, “We should probably get down there--it looks like the presentation is over. If you want, you can sit at the head table with me…”
“Sure, that’d be great.”
He looked both surprised and relieved. They stood up. “Um, I invited the press to this, too, so don’t freak out if you see cameras…but if you don’t want to get your picture taken, it’s fine, you can walk in with someone else.”
“No--I know a lot of people hate that, but it’s never been a big deal to me. There is one thing, though…”
“What?”
She turned around, blushing. Being that close to her mostly-bare back was making him dizzy. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but: These stupid halter-top dresses? If I’m gonna be getting my picture taken, it’d probably be good to check. My thong isn’t peeking out, is it?”
“Uhh, no…”
“Great--then let’s go.”
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In the great hall, a large portion of one of the walls turned transparent, revealing a full orchestra. They were seated on a semi-circle set of risers, with the strings at the bottom, the horns at the top, and everything else in-between. They had quite a few instruments that weren’t found on 21st century Earth. A drumroll began.
The wall went opaque again, and all was dark. It was like they’d just wanted to prove that they weren’t using a recording; that they’d gone to all the work of setting up an orchestra. A spotlight shone just beyond the crowd, and they all turned their heads, to see what it was illuminating.
Wang and Courtney walked in with a crash of cymbals and an onslaught of trumpet fanfare. Acting on some unknown reflex, the crowd stood up. The pair moved through the sea of tables smoothly, and the people parted in their wake, as the energy of the strings section rose and fell like empires.
When they reached the front of the room, the majestic music slowly faded out. Both of them went to a long table that was just beneath the stage, and he pulled her chair out for her. In the silence, that act made a surprising amount of noise. Everyone was too afraid to sit or say anything. Once she was seated, he nodded to the crowd, and they took their seats, as well. He stepped up to a small portable-podium--it looked like an elegant wooden box, but upside-down--that had been placed in the middle of the table.
He began giving a speech that spoke of prestiege and possibility, alliances and America. And while he made what, when it boiled down to it, was a pitch, every eye in the room was on Courtney; wondering who she was, or why she was there. And one particular pair of eyes, which belonged to Hoki, examined her in a most unforgiving light…
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