CHAPTER ONE

Vava Calypso Tootsie Volcano: the Calistans took whimsical names and used them like registered trademarks, their real names not sensible to human ears. For months Michael tried to tease her character from the media. With gold-amber eyes set in ebony, she wore her face like a mask. He couldn’t penetrate her unblinking stare, nor her unnerving golden smile. As he closed in on her orbit, his heart raced between anticipation and anxiety.

Michael’s eyes opened, and her photo’s vivid color drained to translucence as he focused beyond it through his contact displays. His dad William snoozed, slumped back in the seat across him.

“Dad, you’re snoring.”

“Wha?” William started awake and snorted. He wiped a speck of drool from his lip. “We there yet?”

Ew—Michael grimaced. “We’re through the gate. They just announced it.”

“Oh, good.” William glanced around the cabin, then pulled a whiskey flask from his bathrobe pocket. He took a swig and let out a long sigh. “God, I hate hyperspace.”

Michael’s nostrils twitched with the remembered smell of vomit. And I hated sharing a cabin. This is the last time, Dad, I swear.

A chime signaled an inhumanly soothing AI announcer: “We have now entered the Gamma Cephei system, and are approaching …”

“I thought it was called ‘Errai,’” said Michael.

William shrugged. “Same shit. Oh, that reminds me, better watch our language in front of the lady.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Same rules as in public.“

A hydraulic hiss and metallic clatter drowned him out as the shielding lifted from the passenger window. Scooting over, Michael pressed up to the thick glass.

“Aw, it’s just space.” He expected to see the exotic planet and its eight moons. Thumping the window frame, he dared his first trip outside Sol to disappoint him. “Not even the second sun. I thought first class got the best view.”

“Give it a while.” William took one more sip and pocketed the flask. “We’re nowhere near orbit yet. Get some sleep. We’ve got a big day ahead.”

Michael checked his online connection, and sighed. Still not up, his games played out—sleep’s one way to kill boredom, I guess. After removing his contacts, he crawled up into the cabin bed above the seats. First class my ass. It meant a tiny private cabin, a bathroom, a window, and real food, nothing more. These interstellar passenger ships couldn’t afford the same luxuries as a proper cruise liner. The cabin’s muted gray tones, meant to be soothing, made it more like a tin can.

The faint announcement chime woke him hours later, though he couldn’t make out the words through a dreamy haze. With space lag setting in, it took him a while to summon enough energy to wriggle from the sheets. Oozing from the bed, he slumped into the seat below.

William, already dressed in his best suit, said, “Morning. Ordered breakfast for ya, kiddo.”

Michael’s stomach growled. “Mmm, thanks.” He rubbed his eyes. “You get bacon?”

“They’re out of bacon.” William leaned over and smacked Michael’s hand. “Don’t do that. You’ll get baggy eyes. That reminds me, gimme your contacts.”

“What? No way. I need them to—“

“Text your buddies? Not today, kiddo. She’s giving us a tour of the station, and I want you paying attention.”

And it’s a guaranteed bore? Michael’s lip curled. That’s the only time you do this to me. So sure he’d mastered pretending to pay attention, the lack of trust stung.

William held a hand out. “Just hand them over. Don’t argue.”

Jabbing elbows into the seat, Michael whipped the contact case from his travel bag. “Fine.” He flung it at his dad. “Here.”

Throwing himself back in the seat, he huffed. His miniature wrist computer taunted him with a one-inch touchscreen, worthless for anything but basic controls without the displays. His dad may as well have taken his eyes away. He promised to check in with his friends the moment he got back into real space, and missed his chance because he slept instead. He wanted to kick himself.

“Oh, shape up,” said William. “The Calistans are made of money, and she expects you to act like a prince, not a princess. I’m counting on you to land this deal.”

Selling me out, more like. Michael glowered at his dad and grumbled. “Why do I have to be involved in this ‘corporate merger?’ I don’t know the business like you do. I don’t even know her.”

“Look, we’ve discussed this.” William frowned. “I know they have an odd way of doing business, but it’s not so bad. It’s all posing and parties. You want to make it big, you need to be seen with her.”

Michael pressed his face to the window to escape the cabin’s claustrophobic atmosphere. A hazy red-orange glow filled the scene: Errai Prime, bigger than Jupiter. Against the gas giant’s face, a blue teardrop grew into a pool as the ship tumbled toward it. Calista, the fourth moon, glowed in full morning as it crossed the planet’s day side. A smaller moon hung in the sky behind it, like a drop of oil in an orange sea, until it disappeared behind Calista’s blue and green horizon.

“It’s just like Earth”—and just as exotic, Michael having grown up on dusty red Mars. “We gonna get to go down to the surface, or are we gonna be stuck on the station the whole time?”

William leaned back. “Calista’s an ecologically protected zone, or something. Not sure if they’ll let us go down there—not this trip anyway. We got plenty to do for the next week. You’re certainly not gonna be bored.”

As the ship settled into high orbit. Michael caught a silver glimmer high above the cloud streaked ocean. “Is that Vava’s station?” He pressed a finger to the window.

William leaned over to get a look. “Can’t be sure. The Calistans got quite a few dotted around. They consider their own ‘sky palace’ a symbol of success.”

Or excess—he heard every Calistan thought herself a queen. Even among family they competed for money, position, and prestige. Vava’s corporate success earned her a name across the known galaxy. The name Michael Kinsey hadn’t reached beyond Sol—until now.

*

Showered, dressed, and herded into a private shuttle, Michael sat uneasy as it docked in Vava’s palace. His mind wandered as his dad lectured him on decorum. He knew the drill: smile and look pretty for the cameras.

“And whatever you do, don’t make a fool of yourself,” William concluded as they braced themselves inside the shuttle door.

Michael eye-rolled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad.” He took a deep breath as the door opened, and stepped over the threshold.

Here’s to a new world, he thought as he graced down the shuttle’s steps. Someone announced his name over a speaker. Blinding camera flashes obscured his vision, and a cheer went up from the gathered crowd. Same as the old world.

“Dah-ling!” Vava boomed over the din. The tall ebony goddess eclipsed a spiral galaxy, her corporate logo on the wall. As she lifted arms to embrace the world, a flock of tiny birds burst from her headdress. Faux fireworks went off on the video screens behind her.

Jaw dropping, Michael halted to gaze at her across the long red carpet. All the photos in the galaxy couldn’t prepare him to meet a nine-foot tree, cultivated and carved into an elegant human facade. Polished to a satin sheen, her soft black bark glistened silver in the flashing lights. The cloth headdress obscured where her head-branches connected, making it look like she wore a potted plant on her head.

Amaranth colored leaves rustled as Vava stomped toward him with extended arms. “Welcome to my palace,” she said, and grinned wide with gold varnished lips. With long, slender wooden fingers, she took up his hands. Shivering at their smooth touch, Michael looked up into two blank amber orbs. She didn’t blink—God, that’s creepy.

Turning to face the audience, she slipped an arm around Michael’s shoulder and said, “There shall be music.” She made a hand signal, and thumping dance music filled the docking bay’s vast hall. Michael stifled a laugh. I heard they liked to stomp the beats.

After they posed for the cameras, Vava nudged him forward. “Come, Michael, we have much to do. Where is your father?” She looked toward him, standing near the shuttlecraft door, and signaled him to follow. “Please join us, William. I will give you both the grand tour.”

William straightened his tie and grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

*

Michael watched the crowds, filled with exotic aliens and fashionistas, who eyed him with equal curiosity as they passed through the promenade decks. Filled with businesses, restaurants, and hotels, this small orbital city had every amenity. Hot young guys and girls clustered outside the clubs and bars, but as much as he wanted to stop and gawk, he found himself locked in Vava’s gravitational pull.

As they toured the quieter halls, Michael amused himself ogling the striking hostess. Proud in bearing and statuesque from all angles, she moved like a queen in her own realm. Taut green silk, painted in gold leaves, undulated over voluptuous hips. Michael smirked. Beneath the dress, she hid her roots, but their wooden creak gave her away as she clumped along the walkway.

Beyond the commercial decks, she led them through gardens, concert halls, and studios. Michael lagged behind as they wove through the labyrinth. When his dad expressed a desire to see the station’s inner workings, he considered faking an injury. After Vava dragged them down to the engine room, he considered not faking it at all. Maybe if I stubbed my toe hard enough—but he decided he’d rather skip the grand tour of the infirmary.

Nearing the end of the four-hour tour, Vava ushered them into the central service lift. As it barreled through the space station’s core, Michael looked at his jeweled watch. Set to display Martian time, it told him 5:05 pm Saturday, three hours yet to go until the party. He sighed. I hear hers are something else.

Light burst through the lift doors as they opened. Row upon row, shining silver panels stretched for a mile or more, obscuring the stars in their brilliance. Vava ushered them onto a thin metal walkway. Michael stepped out first. Hand shielding eyes from the suns, he gazed into the black expanse above. Three-inch-thick polarized glass shielded him from blindness and the enveloping vacuum outside. Out here on the station’s periphery, the gravity barely kept him from falling up. His stomach heaved.

William placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Doing ok?”

Michael shrugged his dad off. Let’s get this over with already. Swallowing rising bile, he plodded forward.

William threw up hands in resignation. He addressed their hostess, striding past, “Your solar panels sure are bright. Shouldn’t they be absorbing all that light?”

“Ra-di-a-tion collectors,” Vava punc-tu-ated. She extended slender bangle-covered arms in a grand gesture. “They absorb all they need to power my palace, and reflect the light back on my gardens. We waste nothing here. Come.” Her low-backed dress exposed sculpted shoulder blades, which stayed stone-fixed as she moved. Michael found it uncanny. He wondered if she had bones.

Michael suppressed a smile behind her back, noticing another faceted amber jewel on the nape of her neck. Is that another eye? He shuddered.

“This is all human technology, isn’t it?” said William as he trotted up alongside Vava.

Vava said, “We have made a few modifications …”

Michael tuned them out as he hung back. I’m sick of hearing about tech already.

“Tell me, what’s that sphere in the centre?” William asked. He pointed behind them—“There.”

“Ah, you mean the sun garden.” Vava waved in dismissal. “It’s not for us.”

Michael’s ears pricked up. “What’s a ‘sun garden?’” he said, turning to look. The crystal sphere, a fascinating jewel glittering against black velvet, perched above the lift entrance, from which the solar panels spread like silver filigree. Though filtered through dark glass, the light reflecting from its panes made Michael’s eyes water. He glimpsed something shimmering deep inside.

“It’s for delegates: ra-di-a-tion eaters. There should be no-one there now.”

“Really?” said Michael, turning back to Vava. “I thought I saw something up there—moving.”

Vava squinted at the blinding crystal sphere. She then started upward, branches banging on the glass ceiling ten feet above. A tiny bird burst from her headdress. Michael suppressed a snigger. Must have been asleep when the others flew off.

Vava’s pink leaves tumbled in the light gravity. Michael plucked one up, broad as his palm, and brushed it’s ruffled edges to lips. Its downiness surprised him, and it held an intriguing scent: light, fresh, and floral, with the barest hints of cherries and cinnamon. Natural, or did she perfume her leaves? Discovering that for himself would be a fun little game. He smiled, tucking the souvenir behind one ear.

Vava put hand to head and glanced around for her escaped head ornament, the bird, nowhere in sight. “Oh—ho—ho, he is in trou-ble,” she rumbled, momentarily dropping into her natural bass tones. With upswept skirts, she stomped toward the lift. “Come.”

“What, you’re seriously going after it?” said Michael.

“Oh no, I have another old bird to take care of.” Vava’s head cocked at the crystal sphere.

Michael followed her gaze. Something fluttered inside—a bird, alien … thing?

“We’re not going up there, are we?” said William.

Finally, something interesting. Michael, detecting his dad’s hesitation, answered with a shrug and fell into a trot behind the flustered hostess. William picked up the pace and followed.

“I cannot send you back without me. You know not the way.” She motioned them to get into the lift—“No time. Come along, in—in—in.”

*

The lift jolted upward and opened its doors onto the floor above. Vava harried her guests into a cosy chamber with warm off-white paneled walls, allowing Michael to forget the thin divide between him and sucking vacuum. Opposite the lift, a frosted glass wall glowed golden. Lit from the other side, it invited Michael to press his face up to it. Hot—not frosted but fogged up like a greenhouse, it obscured whatever alien life lurked within. He shuddered to imagine—

“This clothing will protect you.” Vava slung something heavy on Michael’s back, making him flinch. She spun him to face her and closed a thick grey robe around his chest.

“It’s heavy,” Michael gasped, hardly able to breathe under the weight.

“Lead-lined.” She slung the hood over his head, covering his face save a couple eyeholes. The thick slippery fabric, a nanotube polymer, sealed itself wherever its black rubbery edges met. “Make sure nothing’s poking out. Good. Now for glasses. They’re in that cupboard there, William.” She gestured toward a wall panel. “Be a dear, will you? Just press it open, like I showed you.”

William handed Michael a pair of thick dark shades. Over the mask, the glasses sealed themselves, a fog already creeping around their edges as sweat dripped from his brow. Puffing under the leaded robe, he gratefully noticed his dad worse off. “You look like you’re gonna pass out already.”

William tugged the hood over his reddened face and said, “Feel like I’d be better off in a space suit.”

Vava didn’t bother with a head covering as she donned a robe herself. Michael imagined a hood large enough would break her branches. “These accommodate more races,” she said. “Not all my staff are human.”

Or human mimics for that matter, thought Michael. His dad donned the glasses, making his eyes two circular voids, and Michael realized how creepy they both looked. He could pass for an insectoid. The Calistans also had an alliance with the Tshiri. Bugs—Michael shuddered, flexing hands in the loose leaded gloves. They only had three fingers. He hoped they’d been washed since their last occupant.

William stumbled, the stiff robe scraping the floor. “I don’t have to put on lead boots under all this do I?”

“No need, you are covered head to toe. The floor is not radio-ac-tive.”

“Radioactive?” Michael’s knees buckled.

“Just a precaution, dear.” Vava slung an arm around Michael’s back and pushed him forward. “We try to keep it out of the next room. You worry more about the ultra-vio-let, as you call it.”

“What do you call it?” said Michael, hoping to hear some treeish.

“Food.” Vava’s palm pressed a marked circle in the glass. It swung open with a hiss.

Michael hesitated as the warm glow filled the entry. What the hell am I getting myself into? Mist tendrils creeped through the doorway, which Michael disturbed as he shuffled behind Vava into a large round chamber. Glimmering crystals lined the continuous wall like an alien cathedral. Opposite the entry, tall crystals pierced from the floor to clash into loose hanging crystals above. Its artful asymmetry formed a glacial maw.

Babbling water drew Michael to peer through the imposing crystal sculpture, to find a waterfall set in the wall behind. Large glass tumblers perched on its ledge. Covered in condensation, they taunted his growing thirst.

Vava spoke, as if to answer his unspoken plea, “Drink if you need to. We’ll not have you two passing out.” She filled a glass and set it on the fountain’s thick marble ledge.

“What about the mask?” said Michael. He didn’t dare rip the stuffy thing off to breathe clean air. Getting cooked in radiation worried him more than simmering in sweat, but as the robe became more like a pressure cooker, he knew something had to give.

“Pull down the collar. The mouth is free. Be quick though, you don’t want to get sunburn.”

Michael fumbled for the collar and gasped for air. Through thick gloves, he had trouble gripping the oversized tumbler. It was like drinking from a vase, and the water warmed too fast to be refreshing. Only managing a few mouthfuls, he hoped it wasn’t, as she says, “radio-ac-tive.” William, following Michael’s lead, acted less reserved as he chugged down half a tumbler.

*

“What is this? Come down from there!”

Startled, Michael spun and followed Vava’s gaze upward. Above them sat the crystal sphere, dark from this angle, opening into the starry sky. A flurry of white wings floated in its centre. One creature or more, Michael couldn’t discern.

“Tch, he cannot hear me,” Vava said as she stomped over to the crystal sculpture. Removing a glove, she struck the hollow hanging crystals, backhanded. They released a disharmonious chord.

Michael covered his ears. Between the crashing noise, the heat, the stifling air, and the weight pressing on his body, it took effort not to pass out. He tried to control his quick and shallow breath. As the fluttering creature descended, Michael surged with vertigo. Vision dimmed to grey, knees buckled …

Vava closed the distance quicker than his father. She grabbed Michael, pulling him back before he collapsed. “Careful now.”

“I got ya,” said William, slinging Michael over his shoulders. “Heat’s getting to me too. Just hang in there.”

A faint ringing plagued Michael’s ears as color bled back into the world. “J–just a head-rush. I’ll be ok,” he said. Shakily backing into the swinging crystals, the clanging made him cringe.

As his dad shifted to keep him propped up, Michael pushed off, burning with shame. I don’t need you to baby me.

“Go drink, Michael,” Vava pleaded, but Michael stayed put, gaze fixed on the glass fishbowl above. Within, feathery tendrils waved like crinoids in a tide. The creature touched the sphere’s glass bottom. It made a circular gesture with its fingers—human fingers—tracing a pattern on a transparent computer panel. A cylindrical forcefield rose from the floor to meet the circular opening above. The creature dropped through in a graceful descent, wings beating like a moth’s. It was human, almost, glowing hot white, and definitely a man. Michael smirked—he’s buck naked.

“Vaaaaaaa-va,” the man trilled in deep golden tones as he dropped to the floor. The opening closed above him. Out of direct sunlight, he dulled to faint translucence. White glowing eyes stared into the middle distance. “Is that you?”

“Here, love.”

Stumbling round to face her, he outstretched arms in invitation. Grazing fingertips on the forcefield, he said, “Come, we make looove.”

Michael took a step back. Who the hell is this guy? He gave him the creeps.

Vava huffed. “You are high. Too much ra-dia-tion. And now? We have guests.”

“Oh, you always have guests.” He cracked an impish grin, head cocked sideways. “My poor love, always so busy. You need a break. Come here, let me tickle your flowers.” Fingers tickling air, he emitted a low purr that broke into giggling. His long frilled tendrils quivered. Five pairs flowed down his back, waving like palm leaves in the breeze.

Not the angelic wings Michael had taken them for. The man looked more like a peacocked burlesque dancer. Recognition dawned on Michael: Ceph, in human form, lived throughout the human empire, but he’d never seen one like this. The alien man’s twin tails twitched, with tips like frilled blue calla lilies. Are those his real—eeew. Michael had to look away. He could handle the human parts, but those …

“Oh put your fronds away. We have important guests. Don’t you remember?”

The man huffed, eyes and head lolling backwards, making his disobliging manner clear. After a guttural interjection, he said, “I thought that was tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow. Don’t you know what day it is? Tsk, you’re not even wearing your watch. Where did you leave it?”

“By the fountain.”

The Ceph’s fronds drooped and then vanished altogether. He slouched over, with arms folded. Above the left elbow he sported a washed-out tattoo, a triple-helix band representing “Ceph pride.” Most adjusted to human life, but some wore the band to state, “we’re different at the core.” One hand kept fluttering over his chest. Michael noticed he had the shakes. Oh great, a radiation junkie. The “angel” fell further in his eyes.

Vava sighed, “I’ll get it,” and stomped over to the fountain. “Cool yourself off. Now.”

The marble-white man with glowing blue veins kneeled and touched a panel between his feet. A pressurized water spray shot up through the floor grate, engulfing him as it swirled inside the forcefield.

Vava waved her guests over to the fountain. “Come drink—before he’s out. You can’t take your masks off then.” Her voice dropped an octave. “He has an afterglow.”

Michael sighed. Do we have to stick around for this? Itching with sweat, he wanted to get away and tear off the confining robe.

“Not exactly what your sunroom is for, I take it,” said William, filling a water-glass.

“Tsk, he needs it to live. He just takes a bit much sometimes. The sun is cleaner than i-so-topes,” said Vava, tipping a glassful to the floor.

Michael shuffled over to the fountain. “What were those things on his back—the fronds?” he asked, omitting the flowers. He’d thought them an urban legend, but didn’t want to expose his ignorance here. He could always ask his buddies later.

“Just leaves, darling. He’s Bonded. They hide with his roots in sub-space, or whatever.” Vava dabbled her own roots in the puddle she’d created. “Best to pretend you didn’t see. Keph are sensitive about exposing themselves.”

“Bonded to their Collective? Him?” Michael sniggered as he filled a glass at the fountain. He wondered if this rogue Ambassador hung around her station all the time. “They actually let them get high?”

Vava’s head rolled in response, as her compound eyes couldn’t.

*

Nearly dead with heat exhaustion, Michael drank so fast he made himself choke. He and his dad tried to spill as much as they could down their collars before Vava motioned them to close the hoods. A disconcerting clicking noise started behind them. Startled, Michael spun around to catch a ball full in the face, a floating orb modeled in white plastic. He backed away uneasily. It crackled at the naked man, who strode through a heavy steam cloud toward them. He stopped once the orb reached his ear.

“Oh look at you. So hot.” Vava splashed him. The water sizzled as it hit bare skin. She pushed a filled tumbler in his hands, making sure he gripped it before she let go. “Drink. You must be parched. Sitting in the sun all day, you’ll make yourself fat.” She prodded his flabby belly.

Old skin—ugh. Michael grimaced. Ceph didn’t grow old, but they could wear themselves out, and this one appeared middle-aged by human standards. He had the leathery look a Ceph could only acquire through hard living. The ill-kempt man downed the whole glassful in gulps as Vava lectured him.

“Husband, you take off your watch I cannot contact you, and you cannot tell time. You do not even know what day it is. Give me your arm.”

Her husband leaned out, still gripping the upended tumbler while Vava snapped a gold watch over gold contacts on his wrist.

Ohh, him—with the word “husband,” the man’s identity clicked into place. Vava had many husbands, but Duran, the only Ceph she’d married, frequently showed up in her pictures. Most Ceph look the same to Michael, and the “fronds” had thrown him off—he’s an Ambassador as well?

“If I had not been showing the Kin-seis around, I would not have seen you, and you would have been late.” Vava pressed a button on the watch as she continued her tirade. As the neural link connected, Duran let out a conspicuous shiver.

Michael winced at his family name’s mispronunciation.

Vava said, “I will not have you embarrass me like this. You are not even dressed, and the Kin-seis are standing right here.” She grabbed his emptied tumbler. “Hold out your hand so they may shake it, or have you forgotten your human manners?”

Duran choked, dribbling a watery mouthful down his chin. “Here? You don’t bring humans here, they burn.”

“They are protected. I had no time to escort them back. We have less than three hours to the party and you must be ready. You are still fluores-king.” Vava placed his luminescent hand in William’s palm.

“Duran I presume?” said William as they shook hands.

“Mmm”—Duran nodded—“you have me at a disadvantage. I cannot see you.” His blind gaze fixed forward, a few inches above William’s head.

“Sorry ‘bout the hood. William Kinsey. Starline Records.“

“He’s blind, Dad.”

“Mmm? I still see light.” Duran’s arms stretched upward, blind gaze following into the empty space above. “I can feel it. All the pretty colors.” He waggled his fingers.

Michael sniggered. Seems his reputation is well earned.

“You’re hallucinating”—Vava cuffed his head with a loose glove—“staring at the naked sun too long. You burn out your retinas like that.”

“They regenerate …“

“In less than three hours? Tsk, say hello to Michael. Then we go.”

Duran dangled his left arm like a lady expecting a kiss on the hand. Through a glove, Michael fumbled for his fingertips and they shook, awkwardly. Duran turned to face him and missed the mark, gazing off to the side. “So, you are to join this family,” he drawled. The ominous clicking orb floated into view behind him.

“Uh …“ Michael shied away.

Vava snatched Duran’s limp wrist and dragged him toward the entry chamber. He lurched and stumbled, blind, unaccustomed to gravity, and high as the moon. Vava pulled him up and straightened him out. He stood at least six feet tall, and she a full head taller—excluding the branches. She dominated her husband.

Michael tried to give his dad a knowing look but, realizing it made no difference under the hood, settled for a shrug instead.

“Put this on. You’re not safe yet,” Vava said with impatience. She threw a white robe over Duran’s shivering naked body. Vava closed the front, a tailored fit with gold piping down its seams, better cut than the dull grey robes. He pulled the hood over, covering his face. Michael noticed the mask lacked eyeholes. “Gloves”—she shoved them on his outstretched arms, like a mother putting mittens on a child. The orb’s frantic clicking subsided to a slow tick. She pushed him into the lift and the orb followed.

Vava pointed at the orb. “The Geiger counter says it’s safe. You may take off the robes.” She slung hers to the floor. Touching a jewel on her lunate gold collar, she spoke into its discreet microphone—“Laundry, sun garden.”

The entry door closed. Safe now, Michael and William pulled themselves out from under the heavy robes and let them thud to the floor. Giddy with relief, Michael breathed deep the oxygen-filled air. Looking at his dad, he said, “You look like you’ve been thrown in a swimming pool, suit and all. The party hasn’t even started.” He laughed and wrung the sweat from drenched hair.

“Look who’s talking, kid. I guess we’d better get cleaned up. Vava intends to pick out something for you to wear anyway.“

“Yeah, guess I can’t argue now.” Soaked through to the skin, Michael tugged at his favorite blue silk shirt, trying to fan it dry. Noticing how it stained, he frowned. If it’s ruined, I swear to God I’ll sue.

Michael sidled into the lift, following his dad. It lurched as it started. Already off balance, they both bowled over and gripped the handrail. As they fought to regain their footing, the two old marrieds argued. Michael listened with morbid fascination.

“Now, you will be at the party. I’ll send someone up in an hour to dress you.”

“I’ll be blind the whole night.”

“Whose fault is that? All I ask is you sit beside me and look radiant.”

“Radiant?” Duran pulled the robe’s high collar down, exposing his mouth—“Radiant!”

The floating Geiger counter started complaining.

“Stop that.” Vava tugged the collar back up. “You’ll wait in your quarters ‘til you cool down.”

“Send Jules to me.”

“There is no time for that,” said Vava, brushing his robes, “and you’re still too hot, even for Jules.”

“Jules gets off on my radiation. I need a Keph. I need the exertion. I need to use up my oxygen. I’m out of balance”—he keeled right over.

Vava caught him. “Hold on to the handrail. You need to drink more water—sparkling. That is all. And sit quietly drinking your starlight. You need to absorb what is left before the party.” She pressed their bodies close and cradled his head.

He moaned.

“Husband, you’re not fit for exertion. You’re dizzy.”

“I’m horny.”

Michael burst out laughing. He couldn’t help himself, hearing that coming from those esoteric white robes. The two alien beings loomed over him, a white specter and black tree. Michael leaned back into the railing. Imagining it no more than a fancy dress party, he put on his best nonchalant grin.

“Aha, you’re cute when you smile.” Vava grinned back, with carved, gold-plated teeth. “Mmm, my little golden prince,” she purred, brushing Michael’s chin with a gold fingernail—real gold—fastened to pruned and polished fingertips. As she brushed his cheek, he could detect the small smooth knots where she’d had extra twigs removed. He shuddered with deep uncontrollable arousal, tinged with mild revulsion.

The lift stopped. Vava grabbed her husband. “There will be plenty of time for that after the party,” she said as she ushered him out the door. “Many there would love to sleep with you. You take your pick. Until then”—her voice dropped—“behave yourself.” She swiveled round to address William, “Hold the lift will you? I’ll be just a moment.”

*

Vava led the robed figure to a long couch and sat him down. He ripped the collar away and gasped, collapsing backward. While Vava fussed over him, William pulled Michael to the side.

“So, what do you make of him? Your competition.”

“Cree-py”—Michael didn’t know what else to say. While his father arranged things back home, he hadn’t given much thought to his impending doom. People marry Calistans all the time, he reassured himself. It’s just politics, money—you don’t even have to be a man. It’s never stopped anyone from having a proper sex life, or a real marriage for that matter. They don’t even—she pollinates. From a damp golden lock, he unwound Vava’s leaf and palpated it between thumb and forefinger. “This whole deal is weird.”

“Look, don’t screw this up. Try to be civil. She’s gonna make us rich.” William’s stern expression softened, and he gave Michael’s shoulder a reassuring shake. “You’ll do all right by her, kiddo.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Here, drink,” Vava’s voice cut into the conversation from the next room. “I put dry ice in it. Breathe deep …“

The cloaked figure put the vaporous concoction to icy lips. Michael stared. Somehow other Ceph seemed more human. The ones he knew didn’t have those things, extra body parts hiding in subspace. Duran looked no different in his pictures, but in person he was uncanny.

“Look at him, dad,” Michael pleaded. “He’s a space vegetable”—engineered to look human. Just like the Calistans, they used mimicry for diplomacy’s sake. Michael realized deep down they were both alien—“and here I am about to be married off to the pair of them.”

William lowered his voice, “I didn’t just bring you here to solidify our corporate arrangement. You can’t just marry her and bugger off home again. It’s time you made something of yourself. Hang on her arm. Just being seen with her brings fame and fortune. You need to wrestle attention away from him”—a head jerk indicated the figure in the white robe.

“Pfft, Calistans don’t love their husbands. It’s all just business. He’s not making her money anymore.”

“That’s right. If you’d bothered to notice”—William knocked a toe against the worn out lift—“this palace is a little frayed around the edges, just like him. I told you to do your homework. For crap’s sake, everyone knows he’s Bonded.”

“Yeah, but no-one really believes it.” Michael frowned, refusing to admit he didn’t know. People didn’t call Duran an Ambassador, a term reserved for Bonded Ceph and not the others. How was I to know?

“So he’s eccentric. The point is, he’s old blood and she needs new. That’s where we come in. But you’re going to have to work hard. Together over a century, he’s always been her favorite. She doesn’t keep the other husbands around. Just look at them together.”

“Yeah, she’s sweet on him.” Michael watched as they kissed. Exchanging breath, gold-painted lips on white, open, brushing against each other. Oh, and there’s a little tongue I see—Michael raised an eyebrow and discreetly adjusted tightened trousers. Yeah, I could definitely get the hang of it. It’s just like kissing, but she’d like mine better. Human breath is sweet to them.

“People see ‘em like a pair of royals. Now, I’ve put a lot of money into this wedding, and she’s put in a lot of publicity. When it’s done, people will see you that way.” William pulled Michael close and whispered, “You know, he was nobody when they married, a wash-out. Back then, other dryads called her a fool. You’ve got a better start than that, and hopefully a better future. Look at him, a clapped out old—”

“She’s coming back.”

“We’ll talk more later.” William adjusted his suit-jacket.

Michael found his nervous behavior embarrassing. It’s not like it’s some big con, Dad. She knows exactly what we’re after. It’s in the contract.

“Now be good. I’ll see you at the party, my love,” Vava called to her husband as she strode into the lift. She looked Michael and William over. “Now, you two will need to refresh yourselves, yes? I will show you your quarters.”

Duran lifted his hood. That glowing stare—Michael imagined its radiation piercing every cell, ripping chromosomes to shreds in its wake. He drew a sharp breath. That orb, still suspended in the air, ticked out a threat of slow death. Michael shuddered. This is a man who used to crank out dance hits? As the lift doors closed, he exhaled. No cold feet, he thought. I’m in too deep to back out now. Dad’s recording studio, my whole career, is riding on this. We’re entering the galactic market now, and I’m going to be a star.