Freyr choked on her drink, spluttering and patting her chest for a few seconds until she could breathe again. That was the last place she suspected this talk would go. “But...why? No Rothians have ever died in the Cradle before, you’d have nothing to gain. Not to mention the fact that it’d be incredibly expensive and potentially futile research. We’ve tried every possible solution and had no luck at all.” Freyr felt her temperature rising. Just talking about this topic brought her back to seeing her family laying in the Cradle-Morgue, technically alive but completely unresponsive. Freyr quickly dabbed her eyes with a napkin just as two eye-catching individuals entered her field of view.

Kalax and Agent 595 had obviously had time for a quick change, because they both wore long, strapless black dresses of an exquisite material. 595 sported a delicate gold pendent that plunged into her cleavage and a very stylish clutch bag while Kalax wore a shiny black dinner jacket and a small, round, red hat on his head. They exited onto the same balcony as them and crossed behind Vreta before making their way past the table. 595 noticed Freyr looked distressed and quickly knelt beside her. “What’s happened, are you okay?” She shot a venomous look at Vreta. "Would you like a tissue?" Kalax asked, handing Freyr a pack. “Thank you. Yeah, i’m fine, just please go. I need a minute.” Freyr responded, continuing to dab her eyes. “See what you’ve done?!” 595 theatrically rounded on Vreta, wielding her clutch bag. “Five-Nine-Five, please fuck off! It’s me, not him.” Freyr demanded shakily.

595 seemed unconvinced, but gave Vreta the ‘i’m watching you’ look. “We’re right over there, let me know if you need me.” She signed off, linking arms with Kalax to head to their table, some thirty feet away. "I'm sorry..." Freyr sniffed, finally regaining some composure. "I just really wasn't expecting to talk about this right now."

Vreta was unsurprised to see the agent and ambassador had followed them to the restaurant. If anything, he had expected to see them sooner, but they had evidently taken the time to dress themselves in the kind of formal clothing Humans seemed to believe was required for locations such as this. Given Freyr’s state on their arrival, the agent in particular had words for him, but he did not reply, nor do much else but acknowledge them with a glance. He was here to talk to Freyr, not to let the two of them distract them and derail their conversation. Fortunately, Freyr did not seem keen on their company either, so she ended up sending them away before Vreta needed to.

Vreta waited until they were alone once more to continue. “I know. That is why I wanted to get straight to it, rather than beating around the bush. I know this is not a comfortable topic for you, but I do hope to bring solutions, not problems. You are right that my people would need to see some benefit in order for my government to approve the research. But, those benefits do exist, in this case. At least from what I have been told, Cradle death can cause kinds of neurological issues that my people have not had much of a chance to study. Despite all the differences between our bodies, your brains and ours are not too dissimilar, at their core. To carry out this study allows us to learn more about the mind and improve our own medicine. Knowledge itself is a more than sufficient reward to justify the cost of the study. And even beyond that, if we are going to be working closer together to study the Cradle, there is more of a chance than ever that something could happen to a Rothian in the Cradle. I personally have nearly died twice in that damned place.”

The tone in which Vreta had been speaking had been somewhat emotionless while he had been simply giving a list of facts of why his people would benefit from the study. However, his tone became more sympathetic as he continued on beyond the pragmatic reasons. “For me, personally, I do want my people to gain those benefits I just mentioned, of course, but...I do want to help you. That is why the idea came to my mind in the first place. What you have been through is heartbreaking, and I see the possibility that your family might be made whole again. And even more families beyond yours, if the study is successful.”

Freyr couldn’t quite believe it. A sparkling avenue of hope that’d been closed from the day she’d seen her family in the Morgue, and was told of the situation, was opening up again. She felt tears welling up again, happier this time, and patted at her eyes with one of Kalax’ tissues. “I, um, I don’t know what to say!” Freyr exclaimed, laughing softly through her tears. “Thank you, for wanting to try at least. That means a lot to me. However, I don't have the authority to set those trials up. I’m not even sure who would. Perhaps we could ask Kalax to put out some feelers?”

At that point, the loud POP of a cork made Freyr look round. It seemed the Outremer Security Council delegate had been invited to join Kalax and 595’s table, having just exited onto the balcony via another door. A waiter stood by their table with an ice bucket and a recently opened bottle of champagne, pouring it into three delicate crystal glasses. Kalax and 595 howled with laughter at some joke before standing up to greet the delegate. Freyr looked back and smiled at Vreta, feeling her face with her hands to make sure all her tears were gone. “Shall we order?”

“That is what I was going to suggest, yes.” Vreta replied, nodding in agreement. “I too don’t have complete authority to authorize the trials myself, but I have spoken with my superiors about the possibility and they are open to it. I am hoping that, between the two of us, we will have enough pull to get talks going.”

There was a brief distraction from the nearby table of Humans. Vreta still had no doubt that their celebration was just theater to justify their presence at the restaurant, but it was no matter. No matter how much the agent listened in from afar, she was not going to find anything incriminating or useful. Vreta had actually been entirely honest and straightforward about his motivations, for a change.

Vreta looked down at the holographic display and gave a brief look over the menu. He already had a fair idea of what he wanted to order when he arrived, so he went ahead and signaled for the waiter to return. “Yes, and feel free to order anything you like. You can find the very best of…anything here.” He remarked. Though, after a few seconds of silence, he turned his head towards Freyr once more. “Just out of my own curiosity, what is he like? Your husband, I mean?”

The waiter arrived and Vreta ordered. “I’ll have the same.” Freyr confirmed, smiling at the waiter before he turned away to relay their order to the kitchen. She’d been well drilled in dinner etiquette by her parents and tutor in their absence, she even heard the mantras in her head:

It is best to play it safe when someone else is paying for the food and drinks, especially if you didn’t know them well. Ordering the same food as, or something less expensive than your host is a sign of respect across many cultures.

Freyr began tracing the contours on the outside of her crystal tumbler when Vreta asked about her husband. She knew that if she closed her eyes and focused, she’d be able to see him and her daughter on the back of her eyelids in an instant. But that’d make her cry properly, so she didn’t.

“David is...well he’s hopeless really. Even he’d admit that.” Freyr chuckled. “He wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Amy had him wrapped around her little finger. One time I caught them going for late night ice cream because she said she couldn’t sleep without it.” Freyr looked up at Vreta, smiling. “He’s the kindest man i’ve ever met, and that’s why i married him. In my role, you need an anchor or you’ll fly away…”

Freyr fell silent and still, staring into the distance before reanimating after a few seconds. “What about you? It sounds like you’ve had some adventures - what were your partners like?”

Vreta did find it surprising that Freyr would want to order a dish as meat-heavy as his. He had been under the impression that Humans tended to enjoy more balanced meals, while he had a collection of finely-cut steaks sampled from exotic creatures on three different worlds. The wine, though, was a local vintage, and one he thought she would enjoy. Although, something meant for a Rothian could be strong for her, if she was not careful.

In any case, Vreta smiled at Freyr’s description of her husband. While it likely simplified his personality, it did paint a clear picture of the person they were trying to save. Even just imagining such a man being a victim of the Cradle was heartbreaking to Vreta; he could only imagine what it must have felt like to her. These medical trials Vreta was suggesting would further build Rothian knowledge of the Cradle, and that would certainly be why his government would approve them, but Vreta did genuinely hope that Freyr’s family could be healed. After all she had been through, she deserved that.

Despite his somber thoughts, Vreta tried to keep a more upbeat, conversational tone. “I…don’t quite understand your expression, but I think I understand your meaning, regardless. When we heal him, I will look forward to hearing what he has to say about you. As for my relationships…there are quite a few to talk about. My people do not mate for life as you do, and we are not entirely monogamous, but we do occasionally have long-term mates. We also do not marry as you do, but “husband” or “wife” would probably be the closest words to describe such mates. If I am just talking about those, my first wife that I mentioned earlier was actually one of my longest relationships. It was eighty or ninety years that I was with her, and we experienced a lot of firsts together. She was an adventurous sort. We met when I was trying to become an artist, and even after I moved on from that, we still liked to vacation among the stars, taking in new sights and experiences. We eventually grew apart some time after I took on a more stable career.”

Vreta leaned back somewhat in his chair, looking across at the void star lowering on the horizon as his mind was now caught up in reminiscing. “My absolute longest relationship I think was my second husband. Just over a century by the time we parted ways. The way you describe your husband does actually remind me of him. He too was very kind, and quite a generous person. He was also what you might call a ‘hopeless romantic’. He just loved all the little romantic gestures I liked to do for him. I remember it was not too long after we established trade relations with Humanity, and there were these little sweet Human candies that he just could not get enough of. So, I bought up a hoard of the things and started carefully hiding them in places where I thought he might find them throughout the day, so he would get a little treat and a reminder of me at random times during the day. A few times, I even managed to sneak them into hiding places at his workplace.”

“Aww. That is adorable!” Freyr gushed, pleasantly surprised by the sensitivity of this tall, imposing, toothy lizard being. “David was thoughtful and romantic like that as well, in his own way. This year, I was ready to work through my thirty-fourth birthday. A new site was opening up and the Cradle kept rolling back the terraforming efforts there...Anyway, David applied months in advance for special dispensation so he could come and visit me with Amy. They brought this delicious cake…”

Freyr coughed lightly to clear her throat; she noticed the waiter returning with their food. “That's when those things first appeared. We were so close to the border - up until then it’d been perfectly safe. I didn’t actually see much because I got knocked out from behind. I can remember hearing everyone screaming, and large shapes...though.” The waiter arrived, put a dizzying array of steaks in front of both of them and began decanting from a bottle of what Freyr assumed was wine. “Gosh. I think I've got enough for breakfast and lunch tomorrow as well here!” Freyr laughed, picking up her eating utensils.

“So, do you have any kids? I seem to remember Rothian civilisation has population controls in place, that right?”

Vreta could have predicted Freyr’s response when their meal arrived, but he still smiled in response. He had a feeling that the conversation had been close to taking on an uncomfortable tone once again, so he did welcome the change of topic when it came. He took a moment to politely thank their waiter, then started to tear into one of his steaks. Differences between Rothian and Human biology did made for some notable differences between their respective acceptable table manners. Rothians did not possess teeth suitable for chewing, so rather than cut it up into small pieces and take his time with it, it was far more natural to simply pick up a steak and rip off a fair chunk, which he swallowed all at once.

“That is correct.” Vreta answered. “Our population is grown and restricted in a planned and organized manner. It only took a little genetic modification for me to be deemed genetically suitable for reproduction, but I’ve been on the waiting list for reproduction ever since. Though, it is not something I have been in a particular rush for. If I was, I wouldn’t have residence on Rothia. If I was really eager, I would move to one of the newer colonies; I could probably be at the front of the list within a few decades, there. Maybe I will do that during my next retirement? I suppose I’ll see how this career goes. I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect I would ever be back to Outremer, or especially the Cradle, when I left those months ago. But then my government requested me, specifically, for this position, and that’s just not an offer I could refuse.”

Vreta took a few sips of wine, then took on a more curious expression. “Once this is all over, and you hopefully have your family back, do you think you will retire?”

“I see.” Freyr nodded thoughtfully. She pasted a bit of steak with one of the delectable sauces decorating her plate and popped it in her mouth. The meats were genuinely delicious, though slightly thick-cut for her taste. She washed the bite down with a sip of the full-bodied wine that’d been paired with the meal.

“Hmm, good question. I don’t know.” Freyr was genuinely stumped. For over ten years, her entire life had been dedicated to understanding the mysteries of the Cradle. She’d never really considered any world without it in. “I’m not sure ‘it’ will be over in my lifetime. There’s still so much we don’t know about the Cradle. Not least, why it’s been...snatching people and acting so aggressively of late.”

Freyr took another bite of steak, combined with some of the small side salad. “I won’t lie to you. Part of me is screaming: ‘Find them and get as far away as possible!’. But my department, the government, they need me. Without our research, who knows what will happen inside the Cradle; the situation is so unstable it's anyone's call right now. As for Outremer at large, well...a loss of control could be catastrophic. I won’t let that happen.” Freyr’s jaw set defiantly.

“Hopefully, there is something on Rothia that we can use.” She mused, after a couple of seconds, chewing on another piece of steak. Talking and laughter wafted over from the other table on the balcony. "We just need to get at it."

Freyr might have been able to spot some awkwardness in Vreta’s expression as she gave him her answer. It was sometimes easy to overlook the effects a limited lifespan would have on how other species’ lived their lives, and to Vreta, he found the notion of impending mortality to be an uncomfortable topic to discuss. While he might have been adjusted to it more than most Rothians, he still did not deal easily with the topic of death. He took his time sampling chunks of different steaks and sipping wine while she explained, and he was fully composed by the time it was his turn to respond. “Yes, of course. My apologies, I sometimes forget that retirement is a different matter for most other species. It is a…temporary thing for us.”

Vreta took another sip of wine, then tried to continue along the vein of the more optimistic parts of the conversation. “But I was more referring to the time after all of this is over. After we solve this problem with the Cradle, after your planet is safe. If your team is responsible for saving your world, would you all not be deserving of a reward substantial enough that you would not have to work again, if you did not choose to? Does your government have any system of rewards for its heroes?”

Freyr thought about it for a while. “I think we’d definitely take a holiday.” She laughed. The stress was palpable nowadays, with no sign of abating. “I want to bring them to a beach.” Freyr smiled, drinking her wine. “But forgive me if i don’t share all of your optimism. The issue is uniquely complex and oceanic in depth. I’m uncertain there will be a quick fix that gives me a proper ‘out’. Besides, i don’t think the government really peddles in rewards. We get paid high salaries to stick at it for fifty years, by which time we have enough saved to live the remaining fifty in luxury.”

”Spoken like a true bureaucrat, good job.” 595 giggled in private comms. The strong wine must've been working its magic, because Freyr chuckled too. “What about you? Are you on track for a medal if this goes well?” She asked, leaning forward slightly.

Vreta felt like he had missed the context for whatever joke Freyr was laughing at, but in any case, he answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Well…yes. Every year, the Rahn’Saki honors citizens who accomplish something of significant benefit to our society as a whole, which is accompanied by monetary rewards. If I were judged to have played an important role in saving your world, I would be awarded for it. Perhaps not as much as if I had directly saved a Rothian world, I will admit, but to help your people also helps mine.”

Chuckling to himself for a moment, Vreta briefly interrupted himself to make some more progress on his steak before continuing. “Of course, I am in no dire need of any reward. I am...how did that one Human put it...’absolutely loaded.’ Is that the right expression?” He asked, laughing again. “I have not retired in quite a long time. I just keep finding work that I find fulfilling. I am not one of the scientists like you, so I doubt I will be one of the heroes of this expedition, but I still hope I can make a difference in the end.”

Freyr laughed along with Vreta. As she’d learned since the incident, the judicial application of alcohol was helping her temporarily escape her overheating mind and the gravity of her responsibilities. Freyr knew in the back of her mind that it made things worse a bit later down the line, but once again she tried to suppress that acknowledgement in favour of enjoying the moment. “Don’t talk yourself down like that. You’re already a hero in my eyes; you did save my life, remember?” Freyr grinned, cradling her face between the backs of both her hands.

“So one glass of extra strong wine is all it takes to turn your frown upside down - good to know! Kalax and I might go to a club after this; he can get us VIP perks. Would you and your new boyfriend like to come?” 595 sent from the next table. Freyr shook her head, smiling at the agent’s persistent teasing. At any rate, she hadn’t been to a club in, well, over a decade. With her buzz on, it all sounded rather exciting. “So...we’ve just been invited to a club after dinner. How do you feel about that? I must admit i’m curious to see how Threrians enjoy themselves after dark.” Freyr asked Vreta.

Vreta did accept the compliment without argument, though he was still not sure he would rate himself as a hero. His actions certainly had helped the Humans around him, but he acted more out of their mutual interest in self-preservation. Of course, he would not say that openly. The perception of heroics was a useful one.

Freyr’s last question made it obvious to she had been talking to in her mind, though Vreta found it particularly curious that she had she had said “we” had been invited to a club. Briefly, he wondered if the ambassador or the agent had some other plan in mind, or if they had simply been drinking even more than himself and Freyr. Either way, the idea was just too intriguing for him to pass up; he simply had to see where this would lead. “Well, there’s an invitation I didn’t expect to receive. A club is certainly a very different establishment to this one, but I’m still interested. Sure, I’ll join you.” He answered.

Regardless of their new plans, they did not rush the remainder of their dinner. They filled the time with more small talk and discussions about their respective homeworlds, and for Vreta, another drink or two. He could tell that Freyr was a bit farther along in her inebriation than he was, even though he was not having his implants filter the alcohol. It was simply a matter of body mass as to why he felt the effects more slowly, but he could catch up if he wished to.

---

Once their dinner did finally come to an end, Vreta did keep his word and joined the group to this club Kalax apparently frequented. They did not go immediately to the club from the restaurant, as the Humans insisted they needed to change their clothing before going to a new place. As his people did not tend to wear clothes, Vreta found the intricacies of Human customs in regards to their fashion to be entirely foreign, and seemingly arbitrary. The quality of the clothing that Kalax and the agent were wearing seemed to be quite high, so he was not sure what would make the change necessary. In any event, Vreta did not need to wait too long at Kalax’s home for the three of them to be ready to leave.

In contrast to the places they had been so far, the flight to the club took them down a few levels deep into the city. Many parts of the Threria’s lower layers could not see the sky, so many areas made use of a simulated sky on the underside of the layer above. As nightfall had already descended upon the city, they were under a simulated night sky, but still with well-lit streets. Windows of the surrounding buildings could all be sufficiently polarized to block out any and all light from the outside, so they could control interior light levels as they saw fit.

Despite the wealth Vreta had acquired over the years, he was still no stranger to the less than “high-class” parts of the city, and the club was certainly a far cry from the fine dining they had been enjoying less than an hour before. Nothing could be heard from the street outside, but once through the doors, the thumping bass and rhythmic beats of the music dominated the air, even moreso than the crowd in attendance. Although Vreta had never been to this club, specifically, but he knew how they tended to operate. When the lights were up and the hologram projectors disabled, the interior was largely a bland, white room. However, the sophistication of Rothian holography allowed the club coordinators to any illusion they so desired to tailor the atmosphere to the crowd’s liking. Such holograms were convincing to the point that, especially for tourists, one who was not previously aware could go through their entire night without noticing.

Inside, the overall atmosphere of the club was remarkably different from anything Vreta had seen on Rothia, or Outremer, for that matter. Just a quick look around at the club’s patrons showed that they catered to more than just Rothians, as about half of them were of a mix of species, Humans included. The air was comfortable to Vreta, though still quite warm by Human standards. The club’s theme for the night made the whole place seem particularly vintage. The dance floor itself could be shaped and reformed to create platforms and objects, which were then overlaid with holograms to make the whole place seem like it came from a time centuries in the past. Granted, Vreta was not quite sure what culture this place was taking its inspiration from. If it was Rothian, it was from before his time.

A wave of giddy excitement washed over Freyr as they approached a club called the Platinum Orbit. The Outremer Security Council delegate had elected not to come on this little escapade. However 595 had clearly been making some calls, because Masgard met them outside. He had dark bags under his eyes and was still dressed in his regular work suit, but Freyr thought he still looked very presentable indeed.

Masgard blew out one more massive cloud of vapour through his nose before putting his stim-pen back into a jacket pocket. “Good evening, ladies…” He exchanged a kiss on each cheek with Freyr and 595. “...and gentlemen.” He bowed to, and then shook the hand of Ambassador Verengoning, before also shaking Vreta’s hand. “Thank you for the invitation.” Masgard said, looking between Kalax and 595. The Ambassador waved his hands in the air. “Think nothing of it! One can never have too many pulchritudinous lawyers hanging around. Come on everyone!”

Despite her tipsiness, Freyr felt slightly self-conscious in the little black dress 595 and Kalax had persuaded her to wear, as they strolled past an impressive queue of people at the entrance. They went straight to the bouncers at the front, who waved them through after the Ambassador waved some kind of diplomatic passport at them.

They entered into a bustling lobby area that split off in three different directions. Kalax led them down a long, dimly lit corridor to a grand set of double doors. The doors opened as the group approached, and a wall of noise hit them in the face as they entered a raised platform looking out over a cavernous club room. Freyr’s mouth dropped open and her eyes got lost in the panoply of holograms that danced across the walls and dancefloor. A strong hand grabbed hers and stopped her crashing into a robotic attendant offering them drinks from a tray.

Freyr grabbed one and took a sip, tasting grapefruit before 595 pulled her along. “Kalax is taking us to meet his friend, and then we must dance!” The agent shouted over the music, looking at each of the group in turn as they followed Kalax down a gently curving ramp. 595 nudged Vreta with her elbow. “What do you say, big guy? I bet you know some killer moves.” She winked. Freyr smiled, watching Vreta’s expression. She hoped they hadn’t just roped him into something he was wholly uncomfortable with. “We can just sit first, if you like, Vreta!” Freyr shouted.

With as unique as the atmosphere of the club was, Vreta did feel less of a pressure on him compared to the restaurant, or official meetings. Certainly, he was professional enough to still keep up his guard with respect to matters the Rahn’Masser would find important, but it was something of a relief to not feel the need to keep up an externally professional attitude. At least from all he understood about Humans, that would not be the expectation here.

Grinning, Vreta took a drink from the server and gave Freyr a light pat on her back. “Don’t worry. Like I’ve said, I’ve lived many lives before, and not all of them were that of a business executive or professional diplomat. I think it will be nice to…let loose for a night, especially with all that’s been happening.”

Tilting back his head, Vreta quickly downed the full volume of the drink he had taken, which, granted, was not as difficult of a task for his biology. He continued to follow Kalax along with the rest of the group to meet this friend of his. Although, he had no notions of who this friend might be. He still could not even be sure if the ambassador was as “informed” on the reality of the situation as the likes of 595 or Masgard. Personally, Vreta leaned towards the ambassador being out-of-the-loop. Rothian surveillance on their homeworld was all-encompassing, and the sophistication of their decrypting tools meant that no message could be guaranteed to be truly safe. At least not forever. In all likelihood, he was operating without all of the information.

Ultimately, Vreta put aside the thoughts of espionage and conspiracy. He did, quite genuinely, want to enjoy himself tonight, even if that meant putting aside rivalries. As they headed down the ramp, Vreta tilted his head towards 595. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but the art of motion is one I might be familiar with.”

Kalax led them down the ramp until they were walking along the side of the frenetic dancefloor, and then up a short gravity lift to a cluster of private booths overlooking the action from a raised platform. Most of the booths were full, but the Ambassador led them to one in particular that was guarded by two very large Human males in smart dress. Sat inside the booth were what Freyr imagined could be a ‘who’s who’ of Threria’s Human enclave. She even vaguely recognised a couple of them, despite the constant shifts in lighting from bright to dark.

As they approached, a tall, white haired woman with the same build as Kalax and the most extravagant purple gown Freyr had ever seen rose from the booth and came to greet them. The Ambassador and this woman kissed on the lips, before Kalax turned to introduce them all. “Everyone, this is Plenipotentiary Wallace, my superior! She’s only on Rothia for a few weeks. My dear, these are my new friends from that thing we were talking about!” The Plenipotentiary beamed a radiant smile. “You are just how i imagined! Welcome, my valiant adventurers! Will you take a Touch of Sthrirad?”

The woman named Wallace clicked her elegant fingers and one of the guards went into the booth and emerged with a small glass amphora. Even in the changing light, Freyr could see some kind of reddish vapour cloud packed into the vessel. The Plenipotentiary offered it first to Vreta, then Masgard, then 595, then lastly Freyr. “What does it do?” Freyr asked. “I can’t really explain, but It’s perfectly safe.” Wallace assured, shaking the amphora enticingly. “Don’t be a baby!” 595 cooed, massaging her shoulders. Freyr sighed, smiled and nodded. Wallace placed the amphora under Freyr’s nose and she took a deep breath in. The Plenipotentiary beamed. “Good. Now go, dance! I need to have a word with Kalax but promise to send him down shortly.”

Freyr scarcely had time to thank the woman, feeling no different as yet from the inhalation, when 595 grabbed her hand and began pulling her back toward the gravity lift. “You heard the lady; I don't want to miss the drop, lets go!” Freyr let the agent drag her away, but looked back at the booths before dropping back down to the dancefloor.

The Ambassador and Plenipotentiary had locked into a strange embrace. Their right hands extended, each grasped the inside of the other's forearm. Their off-hand held onto the other person's shoulder for balance. Their foreheads rested together. Freyr could see a thin, glowing blue line emanating from under their skin. It ran from their right wrist up their arm, across their shoulder, and up their necks to the back of each person's head. Just before 595 maneuvered her into the grav lift, Freyr saw Wallace lift her head up slightly and look straight at her. Then they all stepped into the lift, and the two figures disappeared.

Evidently, the friend that Ambassador Verengoning was keen on them meeting was another Human diplomat: a woman who seemed far classier than the entire rest of the club combined. She was just as friendly and welcoming as he was, no doubt as her job required. Vreta did realize that his career made him more paranoid than most, but it was hard for him to trust the authenticity of those who were paid to make friends. Still, it was not as if he was going to be swayed from his duty by a night of drinking, dancing, and sampling strange inhalants. Perhaps the Sthrirad might have been more of a concern than the other aspects of the club, but Vreta always had his toxin filters on standby if he needed them. He felt safe enough to indulge.

Vreta headed down the lift just behind Freyr and 595, leaving the ambassador to speak with his superior. He resisted the tempation to do a search on the effects of the inhalant, as he figured he might enjoy the night more if it was a surprise. He chuckled to himself for a few moments before speaking up loudly enough to be heard by them over the noise of the crowd. “Is this how most Humans like to enjoy their evenings? I will admit, this is not what I expected after my time on Outremer. Though, perhaps that is just because no one wanted to invite me to the fun parties.”

“Outremer has these and worse, if you know the right people!” Masgard replied to Vreta, buying a shot of some strong liquor from a droid attendant and downing it before placing the empty vessel back on their tray. “This kind of expression is practically enshrined in our constitution. The first settlers weren’t exactly prudes! See anyone you like? Here is the place to have relations with them. Fuck, better not lose the girls. Lets go!”

They’d reached the edge of the packed dance area now. At least three different species of beings moved to the pulsing musical backdrop, lit up by fiercely strobing spotlights. 595 pulled on Freyr’s hand and led her through the thronging crowds, easily shouldering her way to a small open space near the middle. There, the agent turned to her and started moving her body to the music. Freyr did the same and realised she was starting to feel different.

The bodies around them swirled and undulated slower, and slower again. The music unfurled in agonising detail, every note sending another shiver down her spine. She could study the pores on 595’s unblemished cheek and the flecks of green in 595’s blue-grey eyes. Freyr felt and saw red plumes of vapour rising from a nearby Tindrel. That wasn’t there before. She noticed more familiar faces, Vreta and Masgard, appear nearby.

595 pulled Masgard slowly towards her, put her arms around his neck and slid her tongue into his mouth. After an eternity, they disengaged and 595 drifted over to her. Freyr was powerless to resist as the agent kissed her neck, sending every nerve in her body jangling. Her face looked to the ceiling and her mouth fell open in one long, silent moan. She could feel each breath, hot air entering and exiting her lungs. Her arms involuntary raised from her sides and she found the scales of what she hoped was Vreta's chest. They felt soft and bouncy to her touch.

“What...is...this...stuff?” Masgard to Freyr’s mind. She couldn’t answer; didn’t know how to.

Vreta tilted his head slightly at Masgard. “Again, that is not the sort of response I would have expected from you. I am beginning to think there is a side to your people that I have not seen before. Or, at least, have not seen much of.” He remarked. However, they did not have much time to talk before the group moved out onto the dance floor.

It did not take long before the effects of the inhalant became apparent. Everything just felt…more. More intense, more visceral. He could feel the rhythmic thumping of the music that seemed to pulse along with his own heartbeat. Some scents in particular, even filtered as they were through his olfactory implants, became more distinct. Most strikingly, once he confirmed that his eyes were not deceiving him, he realized he could see certain scents from Tindrel in the crowd. At least, that was how he interpreted what his eyesight was telling him. The overload of sensory information among the flashing lights, pulsing music, and constant movement of the crowd was overwhelming, to say the least.

Vreta had not expected such a drastic effect so quickly on himself. He could only imagine the influence on the smaller Humans he was accompanying. That thought did have him finally focus his attention back on his companions. By that point, Freyr was bound up close in Agent 595’s arms, receiving a steady stream kisses to her neck. All of it was simply a surprise after surprise for Vreta. Humans did have a reputation for peculiar aversions to some core instincts, but that was not what Vreta was seeing now, as long as he was interpreting the displays of affection correctly.

His first reaction was to be happy that Freyr could still enjoy herself despite all that was happening for her professionally, yet…there was something that was prodding at the back of Vreta’s mind. A memory, something Freyr had said to him that very night, was sticking out to him. He was reminded of their conversation during dinner, talking about their families and partners. Vreta stopped where he was on the dance floor, struggling to focus and remember. Freyr was happily married, as she said. That meant something to Humans. They were culturally monogamous. It was not a practice that Vreta understood very well, but even addled as his mind was, he still remembered that it was something important to them. If she was being affected by this drug even more strongly than he was, then she might not have wanted this in her right mind. Vreta, despite his overwhelmed senses, could still think clearly…enough. He could be of some help.

When Vreta approached, he soon found Freyr’s hand firmly on his chest. He still had his neural implant assisting him with deciphering her facial expressions, but even his implant was not entirely determinant about what it was seeing from Freyr’s expression. It did seem that she might have been more overwhelmed by it all than he was. For a moment, he took a hold of Freyr’s hand in his own, smiled, and squeezed her hand gently. Though, he released her after a few seconds and instead placed one hand on Agent 595’s shoulder to grab her attention. “Do you…still want to dance, Agent?”