Under a Starless Sky novel Chapter 72

The maze was not hard to extricate themselves from. Other people were emerging. There was evidence of at least two other tube station, evident by the towers east and west of their position. A car going up in the distance sparked suggesting another, but could have been a giantess lighting a cigarette. As they drew closer to the primary structure, it became clear there was a forth tower-transport on the other side of the Ballroom, as a car arriving was illuminated. The hall was squared on a solid marble slab, stairs going up on each side. Arches allowed entrance in egress from all sides. Tables and chairs skirted the dance floor. There was a buffet. The chefs and attendants at the buffet were dressed very similar to Shen and Loxy’s Space Force Uniform, only they had French hats, or berets. There was a live orchestra. They played music that seemed a meshing of classical and contemporary. There was an arch, clearly a moon gate, on the far side from where they entered. Both their eyes went there and they might have walked straight to it but they were stopped by an attendant who thought they seemed lost. Their palms were read. The attendant snapped his fingers and a girl came running to do his bidding.

“Show them to table 14,” he told her.

They were delivered to the table, where there was a chair with back for the man, and stool for the woman wearing a ballroom dress. Jerica was a little angry. The girl hovered, her hand out.

“I have no tokens,” Shen said.

“What sort of man are you?” she asked, and went away.

“Yes, Shen, what sort of man are you?” Jerica asked.

Shen feigned ignorance.

The dance floor held a predominant number of traditionally dressed ballroom style clothing, people gliding across the floor. There were people that were nontraditionally dressed. There were streamers that were suspended from the ceiling, and there were aerial dancers performing above the floor. Shen wanted to do that! He wanted to learn that. Their rope was more cloth than his crude rope, and he would find it had a spongy, springy feel to it when he got a chance to touch it.

“Want to learn to fly?” Shen asked Jerica.

“I like my feet on the ground, thank you,” Jerica said.

He extended his hand. Jerica made a face of uncertainty. He took her hand and led her to the floor. He suspected she was having an emotional reaction to being taken and led, but he didn’t call her out on it. She came with, not protesting. He let go and then presented himself.

“What?” Jerica said. She was trying not laugh.

“Curtsy,” Shen said.

“You wish,” Jerica said.

Shen let that go. He positioned her before him, placed her hands. He described a simple box step and tried to pull her through it.

“It would help if I could see my feet,” Jerica said.

“No, look at my eyes,” Shen said. “And walk. You don’t need to see your feet to walk. In a square. There. Repeat.”

“I feel silly,” Jerica said.

“I know,” Shen said. “That’s normal. You’re doing something new. No. Eyes.” He stopped her. “Now you’re on the train. Get off the train. Don’t think with words. We are in combat. We are in stealth mode. We are communicating without words. We communicate with eyes, with touch. I am point. You flow with me. There. Stay with me. Yes. Be aware of your surroundings, but I am point. Peripheral vision helps us keep distance from others, we communicate with pressured touch and eyes. We share a center. Eyes.”

Shen maintained the routine until it appeared she had it, and then added a variation. They came back to the box step. She realized he was staring at her and blushed.

“What?” Jerica asked.

“You are beautiful, Jerica,” Shen said.

“Because I am dressed up?”

“Yes. No. You’re beautiful when you wake up with bed hair. You’re beautiful doing chores, and after chores, and fighting, and every movement of you, every shade of light that falls on you, guiding the ship in the night with your light full on, but even when your light is off, you shine,” Shen said.

“You notice me,” Jerica said.

“Yes,” Shen said.

“Thank you,” Jerica said. She didn’t know what else to say. “Who taught you to dance?”

“Loxy,” Shen said.

“Is this all you do all day? Dance with ghosts?” Jerica asked.

A woman in a puffy, pink dress approached and tapped Jerica on the shoulder. The dress opened in a V down her back, and most of the shoulders were exposed, though her arms were gloved. The puff of her dress competed with the puff of Jerica’s.

“What?!” Jerica snapped.

“I want to cut in,” the woman said.

“I have a knife, too,” Jerica said.

“Jerica, easy,” Shen said. “This is customary. Right?”

“Men who dance are rare. You have to share, sister,” the woman said.

“I am not your sister. And I am not ready to share,” Jerica said.

“I have something you both might want,” she said.

“A dick?” Jerica said.

The woman didn’t appear to be offended, but neither did she seem amused. It was more like, we could take this outside and dance if you like kind of smile.

“Please don’t say dick,” Shen said.

“I just want to talk,” she said. “Go take a break. Get food. Let me dance with him. Please.”

Shen nodded. “It’s okay.”