Tupo slid xyr back paw away, wobbling a bit. Roveg took a step back with all the abdominal legs on one side. Speaker thought, pulled a few controls, and made her suit slide a foot back.

‘Awesome,’ Pei said. ‘Now, I do this.’ She lifted her foot and slammed it full-sole onto the ground. ‘And you—’ She turned around again and performed the response: two equally hard stomps. ‘Do that.’

And so they went, doing this and that, learning the pattern, learning the rhythm, repeating sequences faster and longer each time. Her students laughed, Ouloo clapped her forepaws to the beat, and Pei blossomed in sparkling green. The vibrations made by alien feet felt so strange as they travelled through the dirt to the soles of her feet, but it was an oddness that delighted her. She’d danced Green Blue White Spots at parties more times than she could count, but always with her own kind, never with other species.

Wait, she thought as she continued to lead. That’s not true. She’d taught Ashby to dance, once, during one of their trysts on Port Coriol. They’d shared a snapfruit tart in bed. She’d laughed the brightest shades at stories about his techs, and he’d listened with such softness as she told him about where she’d been. He’d touched her colours as they moved. She’d played with the curls on his head. And after all of that and so much more, she’d taught him to dance. Not this dance, though. She’d taught him – well, she’d taught him Deep Blue Light Grey Soft Blue Black, a dance for lovers. Neither of them had needed to take off their shoes then. They’d gotten rid of those hours before, along with their clothes.

‘Am I doing it right?’ Tupo said. Xyr neck was bent way down so xe could watch xyr own feet as they stomped.

Pei snapped back from the memory and cheered the kid on. ‘Ha, yeah! You’ve got it! And now from here, we do this.’

She fell back into the rhythm, and her thoughts drifted once more to memory – not to Ashby, but to her creche. To when she’d learned to dance. Not that it had happened in one day. Dance lessons were a constant part of her childhood, both in school and at home. The whole family had taken part at the creche, but Father Gilen had been the best dancer, by far, and she fondly recalled a time when he’d picked her up, put her feet on top of his feet, held her steady by her shoulders, and danced so that she could feel the rhythm done properly. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see her father Le watching her across the circle, swirling blue with love and pride. You’re going to be a great dancer, Pei, he’d said. You’ll turn everybody’s head at Shimmerquick. I bet you’ll—

Pei missed a step as Father Le’s words landed in her head, heavy as the slam of a foot. She froze in place. The others were still dancing, demonstrably, but to her, they seemed to freeze as well. Her implant buzzed with their chatter, but she didn’t parse the sounds. Words and noise became one and the same.

No, she thought. That can’t be it.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and it had nothing to do with the dancing.

‘Are you all right?’ It was Speaker, her suit standing still, her tiny head cocked to the side.

Roveg and Tupo looked at Speaker, then to Pei. They stopped as well. ‘Did we do it wrong?’ Tupo asked.

Pei shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I, um …’ Her cheeks swam hot and fast, and her thoughts raced along with them. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not – I’m not feeling well.’

Ouloo stepped forward, fur fluffing with concern. ‘Do you need help?’

‘No, I’m fine. I just, um … I’m so sorry, I need to … go get something.’ She did not leave room for questions. She did not care if they thought her strange. She picked up her boots, turned around, and walked barefoot back toward her shuttle, trying not to run.

SPEAKER

‘Do you think she’s all right?’ Ouloo asked, taking a seat as she watched Captain Tem walk back toward the shuttlepad.

‘She strikes me as someone who can take care of herself,’ Speaker said. She flicked through band names on her scrib as if perusing a cupboard full of spices. There was Orange Fizz, Five on Five, Augment – Ah, she thought. There we go. ‘Tupo, I want to keep seeing those cool moves of yours,’ she called as she conjured the song.

Grinding beats and the soaring wail of strings poured forth, sparking an instant fire in Speaker’s belly. Roveg let out a loud series of escalating clicks – the lungless version of a cheer. ‘Yes!’ he cried, flexing his abdominal plates in time with the music. ‘Oh, Speaker, excellent. You have excellent taste.’

She swelled with pride at this. ‘You know Augment?’

‘Oh, of course. I saw them play live at a sim launch two standards ago.’

‘Ugh,’ Speaker said enviously. ‘I’d love to have seen that.’

Roveg began to sink into the music, moving each pair of legs along his torso in a different yet complementary pattern. ‘Well, if you’re ever in the neighbourhood of Chalice, let me know. We could summon a few bands, invite some interesting people, have a proper little soiree.’ The legs along his abdomen joined the party, marching in place in a mathematical fashion.

Speaker didn’t know what to say to that. She wondered if it was the fancy kind of thing Roveg said to everybody. It would be in character for a person with a home big enough for parties with live bands to throw empty invitations around, for the sake of politeness and posturing. But extravagant though Roveg might be, she also couldn’t help but feel that he was genuine, and that his offer was as well. Perhaps it wasn’t posturing. Perhaps he was simply a man who knew he had much, and enjoyed sharing it with others. ‘I might just do that,’ she said. Her reply wasn’t empty, either. If he meant it, so did she.