Realistic or Modern The Favoured Colony

Back when she had been thirteen or fourteen, Katya had enjoyed reading pseudo-scientific drivel about the strength of the human mind. Articles about how a sufficiently powerful thought could rewrite reality to suit your whims and that universe would bend over itself to grant your wishes if you knew the right way to ask, stuff like that. Similarly to most functioning adults, Katya had grown out of those beliefs. Or at least so she had thought, but becoming the princess's adviser had apparently caused some reversal in that process. Don't mess up, please. I promise that it's not that hard, just keep to yourself that you probably think we're on the same intellectual level as the rest of the primates living on this planet and everything will be fine.

Seriously, most of these people had come here assuming the worst. Given their inability to comprehend that the world wasn't neatly divided in black and white, many of them probably wouldn't be surprised if the princess announced that she demanded their first-born children as a sacrifice. This worked in their favor. If they had prepared themselves mentally for suffering under the iron fist of a tyrant, it meant that anything even slightly better than that would be seen in a positive light. The princess didn't need to give a rousing speech rivaling that of Winston Churchill right before Great Britain's involvement in the World War II. No, she just had to avoid looking like a total sociopath determined to make their lives a living hell. The bar had never been lower.

For a while, it even seemed like her wildest expectations would be surpassed. This... this isn't even bad, Katya thought as she listened to the princess speaking almost kindly to the crowd. Sure, the speech would have been even better without claiming how lucky they were for having been conquered by the Krin, but hey, the alien had originally planned to call humans barbarians to their faces. That was progress right there. Bizarrely enough, her chest swelled with something very similar to pride. Katya had known the her for a day or so, yet the princess placed more trust in her advice than the politicians working with her for years. How many times had she offered her input only for it to be shot down and discarded immediately? Actually being listened to for once felt nice.

It should have been obvious to her from the very beginning that things were going a little too smoothly. If the princess wasn't about to screw up, the complication had to come from the other side of the fence. Oh no, not one of those rebellious types. Do you have a death wish? Probably. How else would you explain the fact that he actually threw a punch at one of the Krin soldiers? Katya could only watch with growing horror as more guards joined the scuffle to defend their colleague.

"Exalted princess," she whispered, careful not to let her voice reach the amplifying device, "it would be wise to order the soldiers to stop before this turns into a bloodbath. Trust me, you don't want the memory of your first day on Earth to be tainted by this." Katya would have phrased it more diplomatically under normal circumstances, but alas, time was of essence.

"I also suggest to forgive the man, right here and right now. Reprimand him, but let him go. You will earn your people's loyalty if you demonstrate that you have their best interest at heart." Even the worst situation had a silver lining if you bothered to look for it. In this case, Katya saw a way to paint the princess as a merciful ruler. Would she understand it, though? There was no time for long-winded explanations. What if she interpreted it as her siding with her own race instead of providing unbiased advice? "Punish him later if you must, but not in front of all these people," the diplomat added quickly. The life of a single idiot wasn't worthy of compromising her career over.

Sig had turned aside as the man was seized by her guards - beneath her to watch - but quickly found herself riveted again by the adviser's whisper. A dark glance slid sideways in confusion. Tainted? By normal applications of caste law? Yet the woman seemed very, very serious. "But Ekaterina-" she muttered, crest flaring.

In the time that she'd been listening, The man had been strung between two soldiers, clamped by the wrists, and a third had raised his rifle backwards. There was an audible thunk as he brought it down, hammering the butt into the man's ribs. A yelp, and the crowd drew back, forming a rustling semicircle against the barrier. Many were glancing among themselves, wide-eyed, and a ripple of talk was moving out from the stage.

Sig made a small noise, ambivalent. Again she caught her adviser's eye, found the same sharp focus there.

"Stop," she said, suddenly. The rifle froze, halfway toward's the man's head.

Claws tapped on the stage as she stalked closer, cutting through the sudden quiet. The curr was panting, with a smear of red blood trickling down from his nose. He stared up at her, totally shameless. One of Sig's palps twitched in disgust, before she looked away. Back across the crowd. "We have laws, but you don't know them yet. He asked a question. The answer is, I will consult your leaders. Then I will decide which changes to make."

Her measured tone was climbing into sharpness, despite what she'd intended to do. This whole thing was getting on her nerves.

"Until then, contain yourselves," she said, through the edges of sharp teeth. "This man has exhausted my mercy for today. The next person to strike a soldier will die."

Her hand weaved a symbol, bangles flashing. Abruptly the soldiers holding the upstart lowered their heads in respect, let him fall. The human stumbled, lurched backwards. She had thought one of the humans would catch him, but none of them seemed interested in touching him.

Goddammit, not even two days in service and I feel like my chances of dying of a heart attack have already increased tenfold. Katya's expression remained carefully guarded, but adrenaline was pumping in her veins and fuck, a break would be nice. A break that she had no intention of getting, of course, because the princess could hardly be left to her own devices without causing an international incident. Is this what parenthood feels like? Constantly worrying over someone's stupid decisions and explaining the most basic of concepts?

That... was a thought Katya really didn't need to have. Unfortunately brain bleach hadn't been invented yet, so she had to live with the mental image. Actually, why not go a step further and embrace certain aspects of the role for now? Perhaps this was what the princess really wanted. Not an analysis provided by an impartial figure, but someone to lean on. Now that Katya thought about it, it could very well be that she had never received that kind of support before. Aristocracy could be incredibly isolating, probably even more-so with that caste system of theirs. The princess was also apparently the third child and therefore not a priority. Lacking a proper guidance would explain why she reacted so unexpectedly well to Katya even if many would see her behavior as downright disrespectful.

Hmmm. What if this is the way to make myself indispensable? To secure my position forever? "You have done well, exalted princess," she offered a rare compliment as the alien concluded her speech. It wasn't just empty flattery, either. The princess could have said certain things differently, but at this point, Katya just thanked every known and unknown god that the man's brain survived this ordeal intact. It would be even better if he learned from his mistakes and actually started using it, though I wouldn't dare to dream of such a development.

The president chose this moment to step in. He looked paler than paper, but at least he wasn't visibly shaking. "Thank you for sharing your vision of the future with your subjects, exalted princess. If you have nothing else to say, let us discuss the changes you wanted to propose." And since there wasn't anything else to add, she and the princess were being ushered to the famous oval office quickly. A little too quickly, if you asked her. Katya had a creeping suspicion that the president was just trying to remove them from the public as soon as possible, but she had zero complaints against that line of thought. Each second spent away from the eyes of the crowd meant fewer opportunities for the princess to destroy her reputation.

"Make yourself comfortable, exalted princess," the president gestured towards the couch once they arrived. He proceeded to set three glasses on the table and fill each of them with a golden liquid. "Before we begin, have you tasted whiskey yet?"

As she stepped back she found herself walking alongside the adviser again, bristling, her heart still pounding from the sight of blood. The nerve of this species - that he'd felt capable of looking right at her and trying to hit a guard. She had thought the humans like that had mostly been shot in the first week, but apparently insanity could have an incubation period.

The compliment sank through her fuming, and Sig's gaze zipped sharply sideways. Of course Sig had done well, and probably any Krin adviser would have said the same thing. Still, somehow she was quiet - her crest rose slightly in embarrassment, before she forced it flat again. After a moment she inclined her head fractionally in acknowledgement, the closest she could get to thanking someone of such a low caste.

Then they were following the president, to what seemed to be a small state office in his palace. She let herself be lead, though her guard moved ahead with raised weapons, checking the rooms to either side. Suited humans scampered out of their path, making small noises of nervousness. In the office she sprawled on the indicated lounge, frustrated by the strange curve of the back. An attendant hovering by her elbow tried to offer her candied fruit which she waved away, watching the trickle of golden liquid instead.

"No," she answered, lifting it in curiosity. When it was close to her face her palps flinched, contracting from the fumes. It smelled strangely rich, prickling, halfway to floor-cleaner but somehow good. She gulped some anyway, eyes widening as fire raced down her throat, up into her nose. Somehow she kept her reaction to a small noise, a sneeze stifled by the back of her hand.

Almost immediately, she went back for more. "I like this," she said, relaxing further, "but why does it smell like a brush fire?"

Before he could answer she brushed the question off, still barely looking at the man. "Anyway. I have the task of bringing this planet in line with empiric law. To that end..."

Sig rambled a little, spilling out the same ideas from the harp-craft, and a few more that were coming to mind as she went: banning public demonstrations against Dominion rule, affording the soldiers the respect due their caste. She hadn't realised what a shambles it really was down here.

"We will give you a complete lawbook, if your computers can handle it," she finished. Then she did take a piece of the fruit after all, and made a fractional gesture to a servant, who refilled her glass with a tink of crystal. She really did like it. "Also, it occurred to me," she said, suddenly, "maybe that man today didn't know the penalty for his crime was public beheading? You will announce that, as well as some other terms of occupation."

"No, thank you," Katya declined the offered drink and motioned for someone to take it away before the temptation won over common sense. Alcohol was probably one of the greatest inventions of humanity, but there were occasions when drinking could only result in a catastrophe. Negotiations concerning the fate of their planet belonged in that category. The habit of turning work meetings into strange social gatherings with the help of some booze confused her in general. Why would anyone want to feel too comfortable with so much at stake? She could understand wanting to get your opposition drunk, but sacrificing your own clarity to achieve that? No, Katya would rather stay sharp and focused.

The princess, however, wasn't concerned with anything like that. Of course that she isn't. Nobody has bothered to tell her what alcohol does to your body, so why would she be wary of it? The diplomat had to stop herself from face palming. They should have spent at least one week going over the key components of the human culture, but no, the princess had to jump into it blindly. Why not, preparation was for the weak. What now, though? Normally Katya would have just told her, but could she do that in front of the president? In the fame of politics, what was said implicitly mattered probably even more than explicit statements. Informing the princess of something so elementary would only expose the extent of her ignorance. Should they really reveal their cards so eagerly?

Well, I suppose that a glass or two won't hurt her too much, Katya capitulated before shooting her a worried glance. Was it just her imagination or did she sound a bit tipsy? Probably the former, there's no way anyone can be affected after a few sips. I'm getting paranoid. Paranoia was a desired trait in her line of work, of course, but you needed to keep it on a tight leash before you found yourself murdering your allies. Stalin could have written books about that.

Katya stayed silent as the princess talked, content with mere observation. There was no need for her to try and save the situation now. It wouldn't be fair for me to hog the spotlight all the time anyway. Let him experience the glory of the princess's reforms without my interruptions, she thought with gleeful joy. The president didn't disappoint her. If he had seemed pale before, now his face was entirely drained of color.

"B-but, exalted princess," he started slowly, clearly battling with himself. Even though he looked like a nervous schoolboy about to confess to his crush, Katya noted that he didn't actually reach the levels of desperation from yesterday. The familiar environment probably helped his confidence. "This... this is, forgive me if I say this, but this is madness. Those changes are too much. People will revolt! And we don't do public beheadings. I can not possibly announce that."

For the first time since she'd left the ship Sig was comfortably warm, but maybe that was the burning drink she poured down her throat. As the president started to crumble she watched him over the crystal rim of the glass, eyes slowly narrowing. There was a faint sheen of sweat growing on the man's brow.

But she wasn't prepared for him to talk back, and slowly straightened as he did, the wild nerves of the day bubbling over. She had had enough of this insolent backwater planet and it's petty kings. This one was talking to her like they were caste-equal, like he had something important to offer in the running of her colony. So far all she'd heard on this miserable rock was complaints, petty arguments, whining from a people who still used the combustion engine.

She drained the glass in a hard gulp, set it down with a clatter on the table, where it rang with a painfully sharp, crystalline chime.

"You would think," she said, "that no-one on this planet knows what a conquest is."

Abruptly Sig lurched up from the couch, swayed suddenly as the blood rushed from her head. Her palps flared as she gained her footing again, now even angrier for her own clumsiness. "You are conquered," she spat. "You will do as I see fit, and if the people revolt they will be put down. I am here as a courtesy, on..." the words escaped her, made her glance up at the filligreed ceiling. "On...advice. If you don't feel like following my commands I'm sure there's a president who will."

But her head hadn't stopped spinning, and now the room itself was weaving around her, made worse by the weird circular shape. She shook herself, blinking hard down at her clawed feet, which were now gouging at the lush carpet for grip. There was a kind of soft prickle on the back of her neck, a lazy slowness to everything. By the wall the soldiers were now staring at her as discreetly as they could, though obviously hesitant to interrupt.

Sig swallowed, rubbed at the heat in her cheeks. "Tell him," she snapped in Ekaterina's direction, had to stoop slightly to lean on the arm of the couch.

Oh boy, here we go. The only reason Katya didn't roll her eyes at the president's reaction was that her self-control worked. Unlike his, apparently. It wasn't that she didn't understand. Just the idea of being responsible for shaking a society's values to their very core would be enough to give her an ulcer. On some level, Katya pitied the poor man who had sacrificed so much to become the leader of the world superpower only to be turned into a puppet. The issue was that the princess, despite being so damn clueless in many respects, had a point. Who the hell argued with conquerors? Absolute obedience kinda came with the package. Any resistance had to be more subtle than downright refusing to cave in to the demands.

The president seemed to realize his mistake the second the princess brought up the possibility of him being replaced. He flinched at the words visibly, the flash of confidence from earlier gone. "I, uh..." Perhaps her humanity membership card should be revoked, but damn, was this hilarious to watch. The princess's increasingly drunk behavior, however, entertained her way less. No way in hell I'm imagining this, she's really worse for wear. But how? She has only had two glasses. Who gets this destroyed after two glasses?

The answer was 'her princess,' obviously. I suppose I had it coming. This is what I get for relaxing for five seconds, Katya sighed internally. "Yes, yes, I shall explain everything," she stated in a calm, almost soothing tone. Someone had to be the voice of reason here and since nobody else seemed to be willing, the role had to be played by her. "I'm sure that the situation will be resolved to mutual satisfaction of all parties involved. Let me take care of something else first, though." Katya gestured for one of the servants to come closer. "Bring me a glass of water." Once the man in question did so, the blonde handed it to the princess. "Please drink, exalted princess. It should clear your head a bit." Anyone with a working pair of eyes could see that whiskey had affected her, so she might as well acknowledge it. Minimizing the damage was a better strategy than pretending not to notice it in this scenario.

"Right. So as has already been stated, there will be some changes. This is non-negotiable as well as beneficial for our people in the long run. Still, the exalted princess understands that it might be counter-productive to advance those reforms too fast. She has therefore decided to reach her goals gradually through a series of smaller reforms which are to be discussed now." There was no need to stress her involvement in the decision process, really. "Exalted princess," Katya turned to the ruler, "what is the top priority for you right now? What should we focus on?"

Sig blazed with satisfaction, watching him flinch away. Good. Her palps flared once before folding neatly. But she was swaying now, and after a few seconds of confusion she slumped onto the couch again, growling at the awkward human shape of the thing, the hard cushions. When the adviser tried to pass something to her she accepted it blearily, found it full of icy water. Clearing her head sounded like a good idea.

She sipped lightly, pleased, but quickly forgot about it. The cup rest abandoned on the coffee table, as she yawned. They were asking her stupid questions again, when she'd already told them to sort it out.

"Top priority?" The rage had turned to sparkly little pieces in her head, unfocused. This was stupid. Her brain felt fuzzy and warm, trying to wrap around it, and huge black eyes had narrowed to slivers. "It's all my... it all has to happen."

She shook herself, gold nails drumming on the arm of the sofa.

"No. No, alright," She said. "Let's.... um. We'll do... fix marriage first. It'll be easy enough."

But nothing else came out of her mouth, as she tried to imagine what her plan actually was. Eventually she made a soft noise of discomfort and confusion casting about. When she found the crystal bottle of the president's drink - still on the table - she pointed at it. A servant took it the wrong way, and she had to wave him off before he poured another glass for her.

"What's...? In this..?" she asked Ekaterina, mournful. "Why didn't you want some?"

Watching the princess was like observing a car crash from afar. Ultimately horrifying, but also so suspenseful that Katya found it difficult to look away. I take everything back, she thought with a strange mixture of awe and fear. The princess isn't just worse for wear, she's completely fucking wasted. Under normal circumstances, Katya would have been curious whether the alien had the worst metabolism in the recorded history or if the Krin in general reacted this strongly to alcohol. That nascent curiosity now lay buried under layers and layers of effort to keep calm because the princess was making a fool out of herself and it was her fault and oh my god, they would fire her for this, wouldn't they--

"Yes, the whole marriage thing. Let me explain," Katya offered generously, secretly proud of how steady her voice sounded. Since 'being fired' was probably a code word for 'public beheading' in the Krin language, staying this serene required nerves of steel. "The exalted princess is of the opinion that it is too restrictive. She doesn't like that the state has so much power over what she perceives to be a private matter or two... or more, I suppose... individuals."

"More?" the president asked, disbelief apparent in his tone. Katya couldn't tell whether it was directed at her statement, at the drunk princess or both, but frankly, at this point she didn't care.

"Yes, more. The exalted princess doesn't think that there should be any restrictions placed on love." Aside from the caste laws, at least if they function like the castes in, say, India, but let's not open that can of worms for now. "She also sees many of the state-funded benefits as arbitrary and nonsensical. What she wants to do is to loosen certain rules, but also remove some of the privileges traditionally associated with-" Katya froze in the middle of her sentence when the princess asked for yet another glass of whiskey. Oh no, no way in hell she's getting more of it. I swear I'll kill myself if she gets drunk enough to start singing Krin folk songs. Fueled by the kind of resolve born only from desperation, the diplomat marched straight to the princess and seized her glass.

"I would recommend to pay more attention to your water, exalted princess. It is not good for your health to drink so much." Oh my god, what am I doing? Did I really just scold her? Okay, there was no way back now. Katya could only double down and hope to get away with the through sheer ridiculousness of the situation. "It's... well, we humans drink this when we want to feel nice. Remember what I told you about the purpose of the suits we wear? I have no interest in feeling too pleasant during the negotiations. Speaking about feeling good, I think that you may be in too good of a mood to waste your time working. Wouldn't you like to do something more fun, exalted princess?" Katya herself had trouble believing the words falling from her mouth, but she had to get her out of the oval office somehow. The princess was in no condition to be passing laws.

Sig's head had tipped back momentarily against the couch as she slumped. She was glad the adviser was handling her negotiation, because she'd become very distracted by the intricate pattern on the ceiling. When she glanced back she snickered at the look on the president's face - even to her it looked baffled. Remembering her drink she lifted it, only to have a small, pale hand reach and snatch it away from her.

A hush had come over the servants, all of them now staring openly. Hands were on weapons around the room, and a couple of soldiers had stepped forward. By the end of Ekaterina's hurried explanation there was an armored hand on the woman's shoulder. The soldier hauled her a step back, gripping her elbow as well. Casually another two had closed around the president,

A snarl had started on the princess' lips, but the explanation intercepted her rage. She blinked slowly. "Feel? Good?"

Finally her warm, giddy feeling made sense, the crazy swirl of gravity around her. Everything was really nice.

"You gave... drank a bunch of this party drug," she mumbled, awed. Then her translator drone gave a polite ping of failure as she devolved into a string of Khashi slurs. Directed at the president first, then the ceiling as she tipped her head back against the couch. "Insane! Insane planet!"

With their hands on the adviser, the soldiers were glancing between each other, confused, hesitant. Propriety dictated that they punish the woman somehow, but the princess didn't seem angry at her, in particular. Sig herself gave them no clues - she was slowly sinking as she thought about it, scratching a fleck of gold paint off the ink-black plates of her arm.

"Yes!" She lurched up, rebounded off the coffee table before weaving towards the door. As she did she turned to look back, beckoning. Her feet snagged carpet, and she barely caught herself.

Confused, the soldiers started dragging Ekaterina along with them. Sig blinked as she tried to understand her own explanation, rubbing at the fuzzy feel in the back of her head. "Yes I want to do something fun," she said, suddenly. "this is boring and you made me too high to handle it. You miserable, insane stone-age creatures. Let's find a party. Do we have to go to the dark side of the planet?"

They had left the president behind, braced between two soldiers. She couldn't care less, in honesty, what they did with him.

Wide eyes turned on the adviser again, who was still being nudged along by the elbow. "Wait, wait. Um. I want to go to the equator. What's the best city in the hottest night part of the world?"

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the brightest idea under the sun to just snatch the drink away from the princess, but stress did terrible things to otherwise rational people. That was a scientifically proven fact. Too bad that the soldiers seizing her probably wouldn't be moved by that excuse. Unlike the guy from earlier who had practically begged for assisted suicide, Katya didn't resist. She didn't react much, actually. Not a sound escaped from her lips as they grabbed her, possibly because some part of her had anticipated the punishment beforehand. No, scratch that possibly. Of course that she had been aware of it from the very beginning. The action could easily be classified as assaulting the princess, for god's sake!

The funny thing was that Katya didn't feel scared, at least not anymore. This happened to her relatively often. When stress exceeded acceptable levels, her brain responded by shutting it off entirely and going for the opposite extreme. Back during her university days, Katya had been notorious for laughing in the faces of the strictest examiners while her classmates had been having nervous breakdowns left and right. She had to suppress her laughter even now. Wasn't it all just bizarrely hilarious? Like a Monty Python sketch, except that the punchline would probably be her death! Yet another person of Russian descent dead because of alcohol. Can't escape the almighty genetics, I guess.

"Not to nitpick, but technically speaking it's not a party drug," Katya couldn't help herself. "We classify it as a depressant. Party drugs tend to be stimulants for obvious reasons." Thank you, my old chemistry professor, finally I get to use that knowledge! You were right, your subject wasn't a waste of time at all! The president, however, didn't seem too impressed. He shot her a glare, half incredulous and half terrified, as if asking 'are you trying to get us in an even bigger trouble?' Pffft. As if there's a way for this to get worse! How optimistic, my friend.

Katya was more or less resigned to her fate when a glimmer of hope suddenly shined through the clouds. Wait, what? She's up for my suggestion? Saying that partying with her boss didn't appear very high on her list of expectations for this job would have been an understatement, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. And Katya? Katya was nothing if not adaptable. Sensing an opportunity, the diplomat perked up.

"Equator is overrated, exalted princess. You see, the hottest area on this planet is actually Death Valley. That is quite fortunate if you're looking for a party since Las Vegas lies in its vicinity. In case you haven't heard, Las Vegas is one endless party. Everything you might want in a single place. Music, alcohol, gambling, shows. Open 24/7, irrespective of whether it's day or night!" Katya imagined that the princess wouldn't even stand out too much in Vegas. Some of the things happening there were much stranger than her.

Sig moaned, shrugging in a wild clatter of golden chains. The drug could be a depressant, an optimism, whatever. Even faint flare of rage under the skin of her neck felt righteous - barbarians disrespecting her. But she was already losing her cares, and was now riveted by the human's suggestions.

"'Death Valley'," she echoed, tasting the words. A sharp-toothed grin was peeling open behind the dark film of her veil. "I see, very good."

As she walked the entourage was unfolding around her hovering as she listed left and then right along the corridor. Hands flit out, hesitated before touching her. It was hard to walk straight, even with the rigid perfection of the lines on the floor. What a stuffy palace this was... so bureaucratic compared to the trappings of Krin aristocracy.

When Sig glanced back again she found that the two soldiers were still dragging her human by the elbows, though their faces were now blank with the resigned bafflement of the lower castes. "Oh no," Sig brushed them off with her hands, and they hurriedly stepped back. "Let her go. She can't party like that. Go get that whisky bottle."

A half-bow, and one of the men jogged back towards the oval office. When he rejoined his palps were twitching in amusement, and the glass bottle was clasped in one hand under the sling of his rifle.

Someone had called ahead, because the harp-ship was lit up already. All they had to do was clamber in, and in a second they were rushing through the dark blur on their way to Las Vegas. Sig didn't ask for another drink - it was hard enough already to concentrate - but she quickly gestured that one be poured for the human. When a maid had pushed the glass into the woman's hands Sig glared at her with huge eyes, so as to leave little doubt.

"We're not accomplishing anything, so you'll have this."

A soft bump ran through the cabin - hard brake. When they next glanced out the windows a city miles wide was stretching into the afternoon glare, florid and glittering in between fields of grey concrete. Sig made a soft noise looking at a fluorescent-lit golden pyramid - yes, this was better.

The soldiers looked even more confused by the development of events than the diplomat herself. Perhaps she would have found it in her heart to pity them, but Katya was currently too busy feeling smug. Good. If I have to play this game without anyone bothering to explain the rules to me, then they can suffer in uncertainty, too. Just how many taboos can alcohol get her to break? Hopefully not too many because something told her that the princess wouldn't be too happy about it once the effects wore off, but damn, this could actually be fun. Well, as long as she forgot that her employer would likely hold her responsible. The consequences her imagination painted in vivid colors sounded anything but fun.

Thankfully, one of the Krin maids poured her a glass full of oblivion. Katya hesitated for a second. Not that the option to drink herself to death didn't tempt her, but at least one of them probably should stay sober. Preferably the one who knew how to avoid accidentally giving the human race the incentive to overthrow the government. Perhaps she could convince the princess to... Okay, Katya thought when her black stare met hers, it seems that I don't exactly have a room for negotiation here. Every diplomat worth their salt recognized a losing battle and this looked like a textbook example. Nevermind, it's not like I had any control over the situation anyway. Maybe we'll even bond! Is there a better bonding than the one over shared hangover?

"As you wish, exalted princess." Katya raised the glass to her lips, but not before gesturing towards the alien. "На здоровье. That, uh, that means something like 'to your health' in my second language," she explained when it dawned upon her that Russian had infiltrated her speech. "It is our tradition to say it shortly before we commence our efforts to destroy our livers. Nobody can't accuse us of having no sense of irony at the very least." Since there was no way to delay the inevitable any longer, Katya drained the contents of the glass in one gulp. "Pour me another glass," she demanded. "I can't get in the proper mood with just one." Nothing Katya did was half-assed and she didn't intend to start that trend now. If her princess wanted her to get terribly drunk, then by god she would do exactly that.

Before they landed, Katya had somehow managed to finish four glasses in rapid succession. The edges of her vision were starting to get a little blurry, but pleasantly so. It felt great. Why had she been so apprehensive about this? Parties automatically made everything better. They should do this more often!

Katya stumbled her way out of the spaceship along with the similarly afflicted princess. A battalion of bewildered bodyguards followed them (as well as terrified looks of the human witnesses), but none of it existed in her reality. What did exist in there? Well, all those brightly lit clubs lining the street, for example. "Hey, exalted princess. Wanna dance? I bet that you can't dance like I can. I challenge you to a dance off!" she pointed her index finger at the current ruler of the planet Earth.

... Yes, there was a reason Katya tended to say no to alcohol.

When Katya caved in, downed some of the golden liquid, Sigs only reaction was a slump back in her chair. The glare broke as she But her eyes slipped back to watch the second, third and fourth glasses, growing increasingly awed. How was the woman still conscious? Sig herself was swaying even on the plush couch by the window, watching the city expand like a glittering carpet. As they both stumbled down the ramp she veered closer, clicked in surprise as a small, pale finger appeared in front of her face.

"Dance. Off?" Sig had stopped, teeth bared behind the veil in a predatory grin. "I don't know, human, were you also trained since infancy in classical dance?"

For some reason, Sig's flared palps and raised crest were only in feigned offence. In fact her heart was pounding, and she'd tilted her head to stare at the adviser with narrowed eyes. A dance challenge sounded perfect! She could beat this whole terrible species

"You can't challenge me," she hissed, leaning in. "I challenge you." Without another word she spun, stalked away through the teeming streets. The baffled humans around her were only mildy amusing - now she was fixated.

It didn't take them long to find dancing. Drenched in hot pink light, so maybe humans could see these colours after all. The human women filling the floor barely seemed to notice the armed Krin moving among then. Sig found herself surrounded by improprietously low - caste bodies, the thump of bass. The music was weird - heavy beat, very structured. Like the machines making it the song hammered, driving her movement. She couldn't hear the rattle of jewelry against plates, just feel it. Along with the ocean swell of her body, only loosely connected to her brain. When she next glanced up the crowd hand made a gawping circle, and she grinned as she spun. Training kept her balance as the room swam around them.