A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers #2)(70)

Tak threw back his head, cheeks a mirthful green, laughter exploding from his talkbox. ‘I . . . knew it,’ he said. ‘I knew it.’ His hands went up in the air and he cheered.

A curious sense of delight began to warm up Sidra’s pathways. This whole change in affairs was fascinating. The awareness of people behind the kit was as uncomfortable as ever, yes, but in this case, it was more of an irritation than a hindrance. Frustration with perception was a familiar feeling. Dancing was not. Presented with something new, she could easily ignore the everyday.

The music played on and on, never slowing, never stopping. Sidra could not hear Tak breathing, but she could see it – hard and elated through his open mouth. A stranger appeared beside them, as if the crowd were an ocean washing someone ashore. It was one of the Aeluons Tak had been flirting with earlier, and her friend was clearly happy with the turn of events.

Do you mind? Tak’s face asked.

Of course not! the kit’s face responded.

Tak grinned, then turned his attention to the other Aeluon. They moved closer than friends, silver skin shimmering under the flashing lights. If the colours of the environment were communicating something erroneous to Aeluon eyes, they clearly didn’t care.

Sidra was happy for Tak, happy for this entire turn of events. She had three dozen more dance memory files waiting on tap, and she couldn’t wait to see how—

Another stranger appeared – two of them, rather. A pair of Aandrisks – a green man, a blue woman, feathers groomed perfectly, considerate pairs of trousers hung around their broad hips. They looked at Sidra in tandem, excited and interested.

The kit nearly misplaced its foot. There were dozens of sapients here; why were they looking at her? Had she done something wrong? Had she manoeuvred the kit incorrectly? Were they laughing at her?

The Aandrisks weren’t laughing. Their faces were structured differently than the Aeluons entwined together nearby, but they had the same sort of look: friendly, confident, inviting.

They wanted to dance.

Without a word spoken, they moved close to her, both facing the kit’s front in a sort of snug triangle. From the trusting, easy way they touched each other while dancing, Sidra surmised they were of a feather family – but then, it was always hard to tell with Aandrisks. She wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed now that she was dancing with others, rather than around them, but she stayed the course, grabbing files specific to platonic groups.

The Aandrisk woman leaned in toward the kit as they danced. ‘You’re amazing!’ she shouted.

Sidra wasn’t sure her pathways were capable of holding much more pride than what she felt right then.

Her dance partners glanced at each other, communicating something Sidra could not know. They returned their gaze to her, their eyes asking a question she wasn’t sure she understood.

She nodded yes anyway.

The Aandrisks moved even closer, green and blue scales brushing against the kit’s skin. They put their hands on it, and their touches became a dance all of their own, every bit as much as their swinging heads and tails. There were hands running down arms, and claws in the kit’s hair.

An image appeared, brighter than any she’d experienced before. Light. Warm, life-giving light. Water lapping over her toes. Sand cradling her body, holding her steady and safe. Sidra was at full attention. The image lingered, even though there was no food in her mouth, no jar of mek beneath her nose. It lingered as the Aandrisk woman pressed her hips against the kit’s. It grew as the man ran the flat of his palm down the kit’s back. Sidra had never experienced a sensory image in this way before, but somehow, she knew exactly what it meant.

Oh, no, she thought. And then: Oh, wow.

The image was almost overpoweringly good, and yet she had this hungry, impossible-to-ignore sense she hadn’t seen all of it. She knew there were other images waiting behind it, every bit as good. The Aandrisks nuzzled the kit, and she nuzzled back, wanting. She—

A system alert went off, drowning out everything else within her. A proximity alert, the kind that warned of the sudden appearance of a nearby ship, or an object that posed a collision risk. An all-powerful screaming alert, triggered by someone behind her, someone she could not see, whose unknown hands were sliding over the kit’s shoulders.

Sidra shut the alert off as quickly as she could, but her pathways were sure her housing was in danger, and the kit had taken its cue. It was no longer dancing. It was throwing the hands off its shoulders. It was spinning around to see what the danger was. Another Aandrisk, a man, likely associated with the other two, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter. Her system knew only danger.

‘Whoa,’ the third Aandrisk said. ‘Whoa, I am so sorry.’

‘Are you okay?’ the Aandrisk woman said.

Sidra had to answer, but she couldn’t get the words out. The kit was breathing too fast. She shook the kit’s head.

Tak was there – but from where, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t tell anything. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t make sense, she just had that one narrow cone, and no no no, don’t do this, don’t do this now, stop it, don’t ruin it, stop it stop it stop—

‘It’s okay,’ he said, putting an arm around the kit’s shoulders. Sidra looked up at him just in time to see him flash an apology toward his dejected dance partner.

See, you’ve ruined it, you’ve ruined it for him, I need to go home, I need to go away, I need to stop, please—