The place is magic. A grand world of shades of blue, with a deep velvet sky overhead, so dark blue it’s almost black, and the illusion of stars sprinkled all around. Garlands of snowflakes and cobweb-fine glittering tassels cascade from various points along the dome. Suspended upon tassels, tiny micro-lights glimmer, like blue, white, and gold fireflies.
The wall panels closest to the bottom are glowing and pulsing in subtle blue transitions of shadow-to-light, and the floor has been raised up to the main level, so that the immense crowds fill the middle of the humongous chamber.
Groups of people are milling around the perimeter near the drink stations. Many are dancing, but nothing out of the ordinary yet—they haven’t started the gravity manipulations.
I push inside, after Gracie, and try to look around in this super dense crowd for a glimpse of anyone at all who might be familiar. . . .
At least I know where to look for Gennio, since he’s stationed near the walls close to the entrance, and watching a small computer station.
I look to the rows of seats lining the perimeter and see quite a few girls and boys sitting quietly, or just milling near the walls. Some of them are really dressed up, others not so much. But they all have that awkward look, where they’re not quite sure what they’re doing here exactly . . . and I recognize myself in them.
These are the awkward geeks, the nerds, the loners and outsiders, the uncool losers who don’t belong. None of them will get asked to dance tonight. And none of them will dare to ask anyone else. If not for my current assigned duties in general, I would be one of these wallflowers. . . .
My sympathetic gaze keeps moving along these people, drawn to them with a sense of camaraderie. At one point I see a vaguely familiar, large, bulky girl, sitting with shoulders slumped forward, staring out into the room with a dull gaze. She is dressed up in a big sparkly navy-blue dress, her hair is up with ribbons, and she has dark makeup on. I recognize Chiyoko Sato, the Japanese girl from my Pilot Training.
Momentarily I consider going up to her and saying “hi.”
“This is nuts! How are we ever going to find anyone in this huge place?” Gracie says, tapping my arm.
I return my attention back to my sister.
“Just get these things—couple locators,” a girl in bright makeup next to us says. She’s holding two small glowing blue pins in her hands. “They’re handing them out at that station.” And she points, then turns away.
Gracie and I shove our way to the wall and see a line of people. Atlanteans are handing out the blue-light pins in pairs.
“How does it work?” a boy asks.
“Just pin one on, and then give the other to your friend,” the Atlantean girl explains. “The pins transmit your location with blinks. Long blink intervals mean you’re far away. Faster blinks mean you are getting closer. Solid steady light is when you’re standing next to each other.”
“Hey, neat!”
I grab a pair and so does Gracie. I pin one on and pin the second on her sleeve. The pins remain steady blue.
“There,” I say. “Now we can find each other.”
“Great.” She looks at the other pair in her hand then looks around us with a searching gaze. “I’ll save these until I see Blayne. He’d better come! He promised!”
I smile. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here. If he promised, you can trust him to show. Boy’s reliable.”
“Yeah,” she says, biting her lip. “I know. He saved me, remember?” And she continues to throw quick glances around.
Immediately I think of those last critical minutes during Qualification Finals when Gracie fell off her hoverboard as we were flying out of the subterranean chute tunnel, and Blayne caught her and held her with one hand in a Grip of Friendship, pulling her to safety. Apparently it’s really made an impression on Gracie. I don’t blame her—Blayne really did save her life.
If I didn’t know my sister better, I’d think she’s somewhat nervous. But Gracie is always high-strung, so this is not really something I can be sure about—normal stressed Gracie versus extra-tense.
“Why don’t we go check the seats that line the walls?” I say. “He might already be here and—”
“Attention, Cadets, Civilians and Crew! Blue welcomes you!” A loud booming voice interrupts us, coming through the acoustic system in the walls like the voice of God—namely, echoing as though a deity has spoken from somewhere very far, such as Mount Olympus—while at the same time the dance music fades into silence. I recognize the voice belonging to Pilot Keruvat Ruo.
“Today, in this cold Season of Blue, may you be warmed by the presence of friends who were once strangers!”
Crowds of teens clap and hoot.
I glance around the immense expanse of the spherical chamber, trying to see where it’s coming from—where Keruvat Ruo is—but it’s impossible. He might be speaking from some other room. . . .
No, wait, I see him. Right in the middle of the great dance floor, a small circular portion of the floor has been raised about five feet. It’s floating in the air, and now a spotlight is slowly blooming upon it. Pilot Ruo stands there, illuminated from all sides, dressed in the white uniform of the Fleet, in sharp contrast with his rich velvet-black skin. His metallic gold hair gleams with a nimbus of brightness, tinted blue with the ambient lighting.
“All right,” he booms at us. “Are you ready for the Zero Gravity Dance?”
The room screams back at him, “Yeah!”
“Great! Just remember, there will be only one warning! The Music Mage will say, ‘Gravity changing now!’ and the rest will be a surprise! So expect low gravity, no gravity, and everything in between! Are you ready?”
“Yeah!”
“What’s the magic warning?”
“Gravity changing now!” the thousands of teens roar in reply.
“That’s right! You got it! Now, Dance! Orahemai!”
And the spotlight on Pilot Ruo fades, his section of floor descends back to main level, while at the same time a high-energy popular dance song blasts out of the glorious acoustic system, and everyone is once again dancing, jumping, and everyone screams. . . .
“Oh, no, I love that song!” Gracie shouts in my ear. “I wanna dance!”
“Go ahead!” I shout back with a smile.
Gracie makes big eyes at me. “But I don’t want to dance alone! I wanna dance with someone!”
“Okay. . . .” We’re still at the periphery, not too far from the closest entrance, so I look around over swaying and jumping people, desperately trying to see anyone I know for Gracie to dance with.
“Let’s try over there near those other wall stations,” I say, pulling her by the arm.
We squeeze, shimmy and shove our way to the closest wall area where seats line the perimeter and where the main acoustic station is located. I see the small partially walled off glass cube and inside is Gennio with a couple other Atlantean guys I don’t know and one girl, whom I recognize as Vazara Hotat. All the boys wear the white parade uniforms, and look sharp. Meanwhile, Vazara is a sparkling azure nymph made of glitter and netting, like a sea creature. Her hair is threaded with pale blue flowers and her eyes are great smoky kohl.
Once again I feel oddly out of place in my dowdy plain uniform.
“Gwen!” Gennio waves with one hand, and with another he manipulates a smooth touch-console with a holo-grid projection in white. The whole workstation is floating in the air before him like a tropical island.
We crowd around the cube and I yell, “My sister Gracie wants to dance—any volunteers?”
“Sure,” says one of the Atlantean boys, about Gracie’s age. “I’m not up for Mixing until later, so yeah. Let’s dance!”
“What’s your name?” Gracie yells.
“Baritei Gaido! Just call me Bari!”
And off they go, disappearing into the crowd in the middle of the dance floor.
“How’s it going?” I ask Gennio.
“Pretty good!” He points to his console holo
-station.
“You look good!” I say, pointing instead to his uniform.
“Thanks, you too,” he replies politely.
I cringe, laughing. “Nah, I know I look like junk, but that’s okay. I’m here to see the physics magic! Talking about—who’s the Music Mage? Is that you?” I ask.
But Gennio shakes his head and points to Vazara.
And just on cue, she demonstrates. The Atlantean girl winks at me, swaying in perfect rhythm to the music, and then she raises a tiny gadget to her mouth.
“Gravity changing now . . .” she whispers mysteriously, in a sexy siren voice that resounds and echoes all through the room, amplified to sound like a goddess. And as she does so, the beat of the music slows, changing to another song, and at the same time the floor seems to drop out from under me in a sickening falling sensation.
But no! It’s the gravity!
In seconds I feel lighter and the peculiar sensation of falling is overwhelming, relentless.
Everyone in the great chamber screams. . . . And then, people start jumping! It’s crazy, because each jump sends you floating up several feet, effortlessly, like a trampoline, so that in a short while people start doing acrobatic tumbling moves, and it’s all in time to the music.
“Whoa!” Teens shout all around me. Even the ones who are not dancing, start moving their bodies, curiously examining their hands, and a few leap in place with woots and screams.
“My hair is floating!” a girl exclaims nearby, twirling in place. I watch her long red hair twirl around, seeming in slow motion, like a movie special effect, and it’s absolutely unreal. . . .
I admit, even I jump up in place to test the low gravity. “This is so damn cool!” I say to Gennio, who only nods at me.
A minute later the song ends and Music Mage Vazara speaks once more into her tiny mike: “Gravity changing now!”
Her thundering goddess voice sounds, and then. . . .
The world is falling.
Complete weightlessness, while a classical slow dance plays, switching into the gentle swaying rhythm of an Earth waltz.
I stare in amazement as the whole dance floor suddenly begins to move. Slowly it falls away, sinking down gently as a feather, leaving only the ten-foot walkway perimeter around the Resonance Chamber intact . . . while the thousands of people in the middle remain in place, suspended in the air over a great hollow bowl.
Oh. My. God.
I am floating inches off the floor. Gennio is floating. The whole world around us is floating. . . .
I watch, mesmerized, as many couples figure things out and take hold of each other, pushing off upward, so that they float up like balloons into the great blue expanse. Couples twirl, embracing, holding hands, holding waists, holding nothing at all but their fingertips touching. . . .
“Careful,” Gennio tells me, as I start to float upward. “You might want to anchor yourself, since this is not the dance floor portion, and when gravity comes back you might fall down hard.”
“Oh—yeah,” I say, enchanted.
The song ends, and Vazara says the magic phrase in a voice that echoes with mischief. “Gravity changing now!”
And the dance beat picks up speed again, while gravity starts to bloom, increasing very gently, while at the same time the floor below starts rising, so that all the dancers floating on the ceiling have the chance to come down safely.
I am back on the floor, feeling weight returning.
“This is stunning!” I say to Gennio.
“Thanks,” he says matter-of-factly.
In that moment, it occurs to me to ask something else. “By the way, where is the Command Pilot? Is he here?” I glance around in curiosity.
“Oh, yes.” Gennio points to a distant spot along the walkway. “The CP is moving around the room, making sure things are okay. Last time I saw him, he was over there. Not on the actual dance floor section, of course, just around in the stations area on the walkway.”
“Of course,” I say. “Naturally he wouldn’t be dancing. Not from what you guys told me about his dislike of dancing.”
“Oh, no, not the CP.” Gennio almost laughs. “He dislikes this whole event, but he is in charge of things for this first dance, so he must be here. But—no dancing.”
“No dancing, I get it.” I laugh softly.
And then I glance around again, peering in the distance, and this time I see him. Aeson Kassipei is standing talking to someone near one of the stations.
And wow, he is wearing the white-and-gold dress uniform of the Fleet. He looks commanding, stunning, indescribable, with his long golden hair brushed back neatly, his chiseled profile . . . his almost arrogant posture . . . the piercing glance of his eyes as he turns momentarily in our direction. . . .
Holy lord. . . . My heart starts pounding suddenly.
“Yeah, I see him,” I say to Gennio, simply because I kind of have to say something.
“Gwen! There you are!”
I turn at the familiar voice and Logan is standing behind me.
Oh, my lord. . . .
Logan looks amazing. He is wearing the white-and-gold Cadet uniform, and his super-dark-brown hair reflects the faintest hint of red, tinted demonic blue with the room ambience, as it falls beautifully around his forehead in soft waves. His hazel eyes look down at me with a hidden promise, and there’s a faint smile on his perfect lips.
“Wow,” I say, looking up at him. “You look—you’re all dressed up!”
He pulls one brow in a mock frown and shapes his lips in a pout. “And you’re not. Darn . . . I was really hoping to see you all amazing and extra-special tonight.”
“Oh! Well,” I say, and my lips part, while I start to blush in embarrassment. “You know me—I’m sorry, I didn’t think—I mean, you’re aware I’m a klutz. I don’t really know how to do the girly stuff—or the dances, or makeup, or dress up or anything—” As I mutter, I’m getting more and more flustered.
“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” he adds with a soft smile. “It’s okay, really.”
“No it’s not, I’m sorry—”
“Really, it’s fine.” He takes me by the arm and leans in closer to my face. “I don’t really care how you look, you are always beautiful—”
“Oh, phooey!” I slap his arm in continued shame. “Thanks for being nice, but I messed up tonight, didn’t I?”
It’s true, I think. I didn’t think of how Logan would feel seeing me all dull and boring. What kind of a rotten girlfriend am I anyway?
“You’re perfect,” he tells me, still near my ear, and then whispers, “I really missed you these past three days. . . .”
I raise my hand to touch his cheek. “The CP kept you busy, I know.” And then I manage a quick glance in the direction of Aeson Kassiopei, who has his back turned as he speaks to someone in the distance.
“You have no idea.” Logan notes the direction of my glance, then shakes his head and looks at me closely. “But in any case, it’s done for now, and tonight we party.”
Oh, crap. . . . Again I get a cold sinking sense of dread. And I get a flashback of high school. “Eeep. Party? Okay, you remember those school dances in the MJHS auditorium?” I mutter. “I went to a few and it was kind of seriously awful. All I know is, I stood near the wall, on the gross sticky floor, in puddles of spilled punch.”
He snorts. “Oh, yeah, I remember those things. They were pretty lousy. You know, my band played quite a few of them. The only decent thing was the smuggled beer.”
Yeah, Logan was in a band, lead guitar, back in high school. Yet another reminder of how much of a loser I am compared to this amazing boy.
“Hey!” Logan recalls suddenly. “Did you get one of those people locator pin pairs?” He is looking at the one that’s presently blinking on my chest next to my token ID.
“Oh, yeah,” I mutter, looking down at my chest. “That’s for locating Gracie. She is out there dancing—”
“Aww,” Logan makes the silly pout face again. “Yo
u didn’t save a pair for us—you and me?”
“Oh, crap!” I say, putting my hand up to my mouth. “Okay, can we get another set? I’m such a classic idiot tonight!”
“No, you’re not.” He grins at me, while taking out a pair of blue pins from his own pocket. “Fortunately I have mine right here.” And Logan pins another pin on the other side of my chest so that I have two, and pins his own matching one to his chest.
“Now, let’s go dance, my classic one!”
“Oh, no, Logan, please, no! You know I dance like a hippo! I will step all over your toes and mess up your nice shiny boots—”
But even as I continue to protest, Logan sweeps me into his arms and pulls me with him into the dance crowd.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Gravity changing now!”
The seductive voice of the Music Mage speaks at us out of the airy dome—for whatever countless time this evening—as the music track changes to low gravity.
Logan and I sway-float in a slow amazing embrace, with him holding my lower back and waist, and his face nuzzling my ear, while my hands are wound around his neck as we gently come down from the ceiling after a zero gravity dance—possibly my tenth one this night.
Wow, zero gravity dancing.
Since the first time I’ve experienced this amazing sensation, it never ceases to amaze. At first, when the dance floor falls away, and you remain floating in the air, the feeling is a mixture of panic-dream and vertigo. . . .
Your brain cannot understand what is happening with the sudden lack of gravity, so it tries to compensate, and as a result it feels like you’re falling, endlessly.
Falling . . . falling . . . falling. . . .
It’s a little like being on an amusement park roller coaster—that moment when the coaster falls down steeply and you scream because you have to—it’s what your body does in reflex. Now, take that moment of falling, and just extend it, sickeningly.
At first it’s queasy and unpleasant. But then something inside you adapts. And there’s a flood of amazing natural euphoria. You are swimming through the air, a strange magic aerial fish, and the sense of freedom lets you feel suddenly invincible, able to do anything, be anything.