Sunday, January 28, 2007

CoKE: Chapter 5: Legend

Rating: K+
8400 words

It was a very exciting event for the Koga when he came down in a rain of fire dressed in a giant snowflake made of a smooth, shiny, gray stone that none of the Koga people had ever seen. But the Koga were friendly people, naming themselves after the black birds that inhabited their grassy plains, and they welcomed the light-skinned stranger warmly. He claimed his name was Kalel, and that he was prince. He spoke their language, but badly, claiming to have learned it from one of the other tribes of the stars. He was very clever, though, and quickly picked up the dialect. He demonstrated incredible powers, and Myora, the shaman of the tribe, claimed he was the reincarnation of Naman, the prince-god of the stars. Kalel had the strength of ten men; he could move with the speed of the wind; and he could shoot fire from his eyes. He claimed that the Sun god gave him these powers. And he liked the name Naman so much that he took it as his epithet, which was a common practice of the Koga.

Now this strange visitor, despite his physical differences from the rest of the tribe—his greater-than-average height, his light skin, and his striking water-colored eyes—was very attractive to the young women of the tribe, especially the two daughters of Wehali, the chief of the tribe. The elder, Saasa, who named after the swan goddess, was very beautiful, and was already sought by the mightiest warriors of the Koga tribe as well as many young men from the surrounding tribes. Wehali’s younger daughter, Walelu, who named after the hummingbird god, was also very beautiful, but had very peculiar habits. She participated in the war games with the boys; she insisted on helping to decorate of the holy sites with the elders, and enjoyed meditating with Myora. There was no aspect of tribal life she did not wish to learn about, and she was known to shirk her womanly duties at times.

Acting as a diplomat to his people, Kalel quickly befriended both daughers, though it soon became obviously that he was falling in love with Saasa. As Saasa would soon complete her seventeenth spring, making her eligible for marriage, the time had come for her to choose a suitor. Her husband would have the honor of being trained by Wehali and the elders of the tribe to become the next chief of the Koga. Kalel expressed an interest in Saasa’s hand. Myora sensed such a marriage would bring exciting new changes for the tribe, so Wehali eagerly invited Kalel to compete for Saasa’s hand, though he presented no favoritism for the visitor. Saasa, finding many of her suitors sufficiently wise, decided she wanted to hold a sparring tournament, as the strongest fighter would be most capable of defending the tribe.

Kalel believed strongly in fairness, and because of his powers, he feared he would be invincible or that he might cause undue harm to the warriors if he were to participate in the tournament. He gladly agreed to allow the green stones that he brought with him to be placed around the circle. The stones were a new fuel source from Kalel’s home in the heavens, only found in a small pocket beneath the ground near what Kalel described as the Jeweled Mountains. While it allowed Kalel’s magnificent ship to take him from the sky to the Kogas’ homeland, they also seemed to excrete light which was poisonous to Kalel. Yet placed at the right distance, the green stone would only weaken his strength to the level of a normal warrior. It had no ill effects on the Koga, and Myora believed that this was because of its ethereal origins.


The entire tribe was excited about the coming tournament, except for one member. The night before the competition, Wehali found Walelu in her sleeping quarters, weeping.

Sitting at her side, he asked his daughter, “Young one, what wearies you?”

“Nothing, Do-da, it’s just… I love Saasa, but I’m just tired of every man of any valor taking one look at her and asking for her hand.”

“Is this about Naman?”

“It’s about Kalel, it’s about Tawodi, it’s about them all! It’s about my strange ways scaring all the men away.”

“Walelu, you should know that our people accept everyone as they are. You know it gives me great pride that you wish to learn so much about our ways and our history. Someday, the right man will come for you. Peace, child, release this jealousy you have for your sister.”

Walelu accepted the kiss her father placed upon her forehead and after he left, prayed before her spirit net, letting the threads capture all her envious thoughts.

The tournament produced no surprises. Kalel, well-trained in fighting styles, quickly defeated all opponents he came to face, and he was scheduled to face Tawodi, the tribe’s greatest warrior and Saasa’s preferred suitor, in the final round. The schedules of fighting had been organized by the clever Sageeth, who had formed a very strong friendship with Kalel, who he enjoyed calling by his epithet, Naman. In fact, Naman had entrusted Sageeth with a solemn mission. Naman knew that his omnipotence would produce the temptation to rule over the lands mercilessly, and were this to ever become a threat to the Koga, or any tribe, Sageeth was charged with using a knife made out of the green stone to stop him… at any cost. Sageeth agreed, saying he hoped it never came to that.

Though Sageeth was also a very talented warrior, his natural ability to resolve conflicts within and between tribes found him preventing battles more often than fighting in them. He was impressed by the powerful Naman, and had expressed great interest in having him marry Saasa, and planned the tournament so that Naman would defeat Tadowi in the final battle, hoping the victory would sway Saasa’s heart to Naman without any doubts. However, Sageeth had not taken into account another talented foreigner. This warrior, Udelida as he called himself, had a very different style of attack that the Koga and their neighbors were not used to. Despite his smaller stature than both Naman and Tawodi and the traditional mask and costume he wore, he also proved worthy to fight in the last round.

The matches were fought within a circle of stones in an open field. Each warrior was armed with only a staff made from a young, flexible tree. The purpose of the weapon was not to cause undue harm, but rather to be used agilely to cause one’s opponents to be forced to the ground or out of the ring, where they would be forced to yield from an indefensible position.

As the final round began, Naman began the round by fiercely attacking Tawodi, who was able to defend off Naman for quite awhile, though Naman quickly drove close to the edge of the ring. If not for Udelida’s interference, Tawodi would have been forced to yield after only a few minutes. Udelida and Naman sparred for a while, when Naman, clearly taking the upper hand, took a strong swing intended to force Udelida onto his back, instead knocked off his mask, revealing the face of Walelu. As the mask fell outside the circle, Walelu did not retrieve it. Naman, like the entire crowd, was stunned by this revelation, but Walelu continued to fight unmasked and undeterred. Naman was slow to defend, losing the vigor he had once used. Even when a recovered Tawodi entered the fight, Naman easily held both of them off. Naman quickly changed the course of the fight, he again attacked Tawodi vigorously, but before claiming a yield, turned his attention to Walelu. Within moments, Naman held Walelu to the ground, and she was forced to yield.

“Why?” Naman asked, as his opponent lay on the ground.

“Because you only have eyes for her.”

Naman pulled himself away to continue with Tawodi again, who after two near losses, was fighting with great aggression. Naman, instead of matching his forwardness, used swiftness to his advantage, and as Tawodi began to tire out, Naman stepped back. Tawodi raised his weapon into the air. Naman, standing with his pole to his side, clearly stated to the waiting Tawodi, “Yield.”

For a second time, the crowd stood stunned. Naman walked up to the chief, whose faced showed the same perplexity as his people, and told him, “I can no longer fight for Saasa’s hand. Though she is very fair, a new and greater desire has been awoken within me by Walelu’s fierceness in battle.” He turned to Saasa. “I am sorry to reject you, but I believe it would not be fair to you to take your hand when I have so much desire for you sister. Would you be happy with Tawodi?”

Saasa looked sad at the rejection, but with maturity replied, “Tawodi has courted me far longer than you have, Kalel. And I love my sister and believe she deserves a man as great as you. I approve.”

Walelu walked up behind Naman. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

Naman turned around to face Walelu. “I will gladly fight a tournament for your hand.”

“Kalel, I have no other suitors for you to challenge. I’d rather you accompany me in my studies about the Koga people. Perhaps you could also teach me of your people?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Naman,” Wehali stated, “your integrity fills me with great pride. You would make an excellent chief.”

“I could not claim that which is the right of Tawodi. I will be a chief to my own people one day.”

Sageeth stepped up from the crowd. “I have an idea. Wehali, you have spoken to me much about the size of the tribe and how you fear we are growing too large for the land to support us. As I recall, we found another suitable area on the other side of the forest that was unfortunately no larger than our present grounds. Might I suggest that we split the tribe in two? Tawodi and Saasa shall lead this tribe and Naman and Walelu would lead the other.”

“That is a fine suggestion, Sageeth. Naman, what do you think?”

“It would be my honor.”

“Then you shall be bestowed the epithets of Wehali and Rayen?”

“No, I think not. It is Saasa’s long-awaited privilege to bear the name of Rayen, after a beautiful bird, which does not fit Walelu. I propose that I keep my epithet of Naman and that Walelu take on the name of Loral, as your guardian has done. I have come to understand it represents the fierce animal that prowls this area.” He looked at his beloved Walelu, and commented, “I can see no more fitting name.”

“Then what shall your guardian be named?”

“Dayak has been a loyal friend and is a fierce warrior. He shall be my guardian, and his name shall be elevated to a title of protector for the next Naman.”

Wehali smiled, “Then it shall be done. Myora was correct. Your presence has brought new and exciting changed to our tribe.”

Myora stood, immediately commanding the attention of all the Koga, “I sense it is only the beginning.”

* * *

Alitama, who had other preparations to attend to, simply directed Chloe down a long hallway. In addition to preparing her gown, the handmaidens had also made up Chloe’s face. The eye shadow was a tad heavy for her taste, but she didn’t think it was too indecent and apparently the handmaidens were copying some regal design, so she also didn’t want to insult their magnanimity. Chloe did happen to like the shade of lipstick they had chosen: red so bright it actually brought color to her pale visage. She was a bit amused with, but not critical of, the bright blue lines that were drawn down her neck starting from her earlobes. Added to her outfit was a sheer red robe which hung off her shoulders, leaving her arms bear and flowing behind her as she walked. If Chloe had been able to see herself, she would have admired her newfound grace; she practically glided down the hallway with her head held high and back straight. In reality, she felt awkward; the unbalanced shoes kept her feet flat, causing her ankles to feel locked. In addition, she found herself pulling her shoulders up just to compensate for the heavy belt around her waist. But before long, the thoughts of her discomfort faded away as Clark came into view, patiently waiting before the door to the banquet hall ready to make his entrance into the banquet hall for the coronation ceremony.

Clark’s outfit appeared to be made of a similar material as Chloe’s dress. It seemed somewhat heavier, but it still clung in the same mysterious way. It was several shades darker than Chloe’s, a dark blue that tended toward turquoise rather than navy blue. It was composed of dark slacks and an almost form-fitting collared tunic. He had a heavy silver belt that made Chloe’s look dainty. Over his shoulders was a carmine cape extending over his shoulders and falling to his ankles.

“Hey, Chief,” she called as she walked up behind him, the stories of Naman and Loral still fresh in her mind.

“Chloe, please,” he replied, cracking a half-grin and facing her, “don’t call me ‘chief.’” His smile faded when he saw her. Chloe was happily able to interpret his speechlessness. As she looked over his outfit, she initially noted the rope neckerchief around his neck, held together by a silver slide bejeweled with a ruby. She then noticed that the outfit, like her own, clung very closely to his body, and it traced every ridge and bump of his superhuman physique. The relatively airy dress suddenly seemed a few degrees more stifling. When Clark turned to face the door again, Chloe slipped a finger in the point of her neckline, dragging the compliant material a few inches down then tugging beneath the underarms to widen the neckline a tad. Pleased with her handiwork, she slipped her arm into Clark, who grasped the wrist with his left hand, as Proditor had instructed him to do.

From behind the door, Proditor’s deep voice boomed over a PA system, which accompanying echoes in various alien languages, “I present to you the Champions of Kal-El. Tonight, the spirits of Naman and Loral guide the mighty Clarkent and his lovely consort Clo-ee Sullavin.”

“That’s us.” Clark and Chloe walked out majestically, through no fault of their own.

The banquet room was large, with an up-sloping ceiling, which was good, because the room was filled with guests of all alien species, and some of them, the ones near the back of the room, were much taller than the rest. The diversity was incredible: creatures with all numbers of limbs (or lack thereof), heads (or lack thereof), and other unidentifiable features, wrapped in any variety of styles of clothing of any variety of material, or sometimes lack of.

Clark and Chloe were directed toward a pair of thrones. The chairs were boxy and simple, built from some sort of blood-red, marble-like stone with crystalline blue armrests. As the pair sat down, they found the contour of the seats causing them to sit very upright. There was what must have been applause from the crowd. Since some of the creatures had no hands, very few of the guests actually clapped. Other waved, or murmured, or bowed.

Proditor continued his spiel, “Being guided by the spirit of Sageeth the great Lek-Sluthore. Tonight, he is escorted by the beautiful Lanalang, who is guided by the spirit of Rayen.”

Emerging from the left side of the room, Lex and Lana wore matching outfits. Lana wore a very intricate gown that had an ancient Chinese look. The top part of the costume was a full bodice made of a silky, magenta-colored fabric tied down the center with a dozen purple bows. The sleeves were nothing more than sparse black cords connected to matching cuffs. The wide, heavy, black-and-white A-line skirt was ruffled, floating around her. Her black hair was set into a bun by three brightly colored hair sticks. Several tresses were removed from the bun and colored in bright neon oranges, greens, and violets, each one set off by a silver bead. She wore large, gaudy earrings in the shape of a solar system which moved in a corresponding manner. Her eyes were painted with an Egyptian kohl design, her lips with glowing rose-colored lipstick, and her cheeks a light coat of white face powder. Lex, escorting Lana, wore a simple suit of slacks and a shirt made of a heavy, black, glossy material. A prominent purple seam crossed the front of the shirt in an X pattern. A thick, white belt encircled his waist and around his neck was a black stole with alien symbols in bright red, gold, silver, and regal purple. If he did fight a score of wild beasts that morning, he had no scars to show for it.

“We are pleased to welcome in our midst Lowzlane. The spirit of Myora has chosen to guide this exceptionally wise and talented woman. She is escorted tonight by the Groosalugg of Pylea.”

There was mumbling among the audience about at the announcement, likely concerning Lois’s escort. As Lois walked out, Chloe was forced to bite her tongue. Her leather outfit was risqué at best. The fabric completely covered her neck, but broke into three sections at the base. Her back was covered only by a hanging, triangular flap that hid at most the top half of her spine. The other two thirds reached down to her waist, covering most of her torso but exposing the center of her trunk, including, notably, the inner sides of her breasts. Her arms were completely covered by long, wide, nylon sleeves that extended to the floor, but had holes that left her hands exposed. The outfit also featured a skirt made of the leather (or whatever leather-like product it was), which covered the top half of her thighs before becoming a mess of sliced strips, which covered her legs if she stood still, but did nothing to hide them when she walked.

Escorting her was Groo, wearing what must pass for a sports coat on his planet: a heavy jacket made of combed fur. He wore no shirt underneath the coat, but did have a brown collar, dark green knee-length slacks, and tan ankle boots. He stood stiffly with his arms behind him, as a much more laid-back Lois hung on his arm, waving at no one in particular.

“And finally may I present to you the brave Peetros, who is guided by the spirit of Dayak.”

Pete was in an outfit that looked military. The top was a mock-breastplate made of a malleable metallic fabric, decorated with alien insignia, most prominent three gold dart-shapes within an oval across his right breast and two blue jewels below that. His arms were bare, but he wore large gold gauntlets that extended over his elbows. He also had dark sea green slacks and rubbery skin-tight black boots. Beside him and towering over him was a six-foot alien. She—Clark and Chloe assumed it was female—had a fairly humanoid form, but scaly, blue-green skin. But most prominent about her were the two pillow-sized breast-like appendages under her tight dress. Pete turned to face her and said something, only his eyes weren’t exactly meeting hers but rather another conspicuous area of her body. Chloe suppressed a disapproving smirk.

The smile faded when she noticed that Clark was characteristically staring at Lana. Reaching across the arm of her throne, she held Clark’s hand. “Pretty, ain’t she?”

Looking people in the eyes made their emotions all the more visible, and she was surprised what she felt as she looked into Clark’s: nothing. She didn’t feel any surges of awe, attraction, or enticement that she would expect if Clark had been admiring Lana. He said, in a casual but lowered voice, “Yeah, Lana always is, but, uh, I kinda don’t care for her dress.” When Chloe didn’t respond, he continued, “I can see why it’d be pretty, but I just don’t like the style. It’s too elaborate and complicated.”

Chloe surveyed Clark. “Well, never expected to hear critical words about Lana coming out of your mouth. So, since we’re playing Joan Rivers, what are your thoughts on my ensemble?”

Clark’s eyes swept over Chloe as she read him, feeling a sense of recollection—meaning he had noticed her earlier—and the sense of aesthetic appreciation that she recall from earlier. Though she could interpret his thoughts better than he could put them into words, she still listened intently to his evaluation. “Well, it’s kind of simple, but, you know, good-looking. The robe… thing really adds to it.” As if his evaluation did express his appreciation, he added, “I like the jewelry a lot. It’s kind of…”

“…quirky,” she expertly finished. “I agree, but it’s kind of my style, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a warm grin and a sense of relief, “the whole mix-and-match thing.”

The conversation was cut short as Proditor and Beipanzhe approached the thrones with pillow-like cubes, Proditor’s much larger than Beipanzhe’s. As the former bowed, the pillow seemed to collapse out, revealing a crown within. The unusual crown was shaped like a Native American headdress, cast from what appeared to be silver. As Proditor lifted up the crown to Clark’s head, the gold-tipped feathers swayed slowly. Clark had no trouble balancing it on his head, as the brim clenched around his head, and the tail rested against his shoulders. Beipanzhe repeated the ritual with Chloe. Her crown was much smaller, a thin ring of silver shaped like a flower laurel with carved marble daisies. There were also three flowery tails on the crown, which entwined with Chloe’s hair as Beipanzhe placed it delicately upon her head.

The two Kenaki moved to the left side of the room where Lex and Lana sat, passing by a font and taking two small boxes from atop it. Proditor placed against Lex’s sternum a plum-colored hexagonal badge, which stuck to his clothing. It bore in gold Sageeth’s symbol. Beipanzhe placed a necklace around Lana’s neck. Attached to the chain was a silver dollar-sized coin, one side bearing the Symbol of Rayen, the other a mirror-image double-L design.

“And, now, Clarkent will reenact the initiation of Dayak by Naman with his friend and loyal subject Peetros.”

Clark extended his upward hand to Chloe, who took it. He whispered below his breath, “They teach you what to do?”

“No.”

“Then you’re just supposed to stand there and look pretty.” Chloe’s cheeks flushed a little, and she cursed how easily Clark was able to manipulate, unknowingly, her emotions. She was too old and too mature to let such a comment, even from Clark, make her blush.

Clark, with rehearsed grace, gently picked up a sword handed to him by one of the Kenaki men. With a grim-faced Pete standing before him, he held the sword straight up. He tossed it lightly, only enough to make it spin in the air so that he could catch the handle as it became inverted. Pete without a word reached out and grasped the handle of the sword, and his hand and Clark’s interlocked. Clark released the sword and stepped back. Pete briefly twirled the sword three times with expert grace before sliding it in a sheath behind his back.

“And, finally, we would like to invite Lowzlane to share with us her wisdom.”

Lois’s wide eyes made it clear that she had not been informed of her duties for the night. Groo turned to her and said something. Lois rolled her eyes and walked to the stage, where Proditor placed something on the breast of her outfit. Though Proditor did it casually, and seemed to derive no pleasure from it, Lois gave him a suspicious look that he likely did not catch.

Lois started her impromptu speech with very little confidence. “Well, in the wise words of Paul McCartney, ‘All you need is love.’” There was some positive murmuring from the crowd. Emboldened, she continued, “And, another quote from my very favorite Queen, ‘Another one bites the dust.’” There was less murmuring this time, but a lot of pensive glances. She added with a lot of weight, “It was once said, ‘Everybody dance now.’” There was mild cheering. “Ask not what you can do for your country, but what your country can do for you…” She trailed off, rethinking. “And the other way around. Four score and seven years ago…” Lois’s face went completely blank. “Okay, how about a story now? There were two Indians. One of them had no moccasins, and he was sad. Then he met the other Indian… Regardless, he realized that having no shoes wasn’t a bad thing and that he should appreciate life and fuzzy-wuzzy crap like that. Maybe I’m thinking of that footprint story. Sometimes there’s two pairs of footprints. And sometimes, there’s only one.” Lois paused for a moment, with a lost look on her face, and mumbled to herself, “I have got to go back to church.” There was a sudden applause, as Lois realized the transponder was amplifying her every word. “But I mean, what is God? I don’t know. And is He really a ‘he.’ Or could He be a ‘she’?”

By this point Clark had a headache. Pete and Chloe were suppressing laughter. He was having coughing fits; she was in tears.

“So, what I’m really trying to say,” Lois continued, “is you have to do unto others what you would do to yourself if you weren’t yourself and you were, you know, someone else. Assuming, of course, that you were still you but also someone else, watching yourself, and thinking, ‘Hey, I should be nice to myself.’ Except it’s supposed to mean that you should be nice to other people. You get what I’m saying. With great responsibility comes… With great abilities… I sound like George Bush up here. In his words, you can’t fool me more than once.” She took an exhausted breath, sighed, and raised her hand. She held pressed her index finger and her middle finger together, and did the same with her ring finger and her pinky. With a deep breath, she stated, “Live long and prosper.”

Every creature in the room with an arm to raise did, and each creature with fingers matched her gesture the best they could. There was then a cacophony as each creature with the ability to make noise repeated Lois’s charge in his or her or whatever’s native language.

Lois just smiled.

* * *

Clark and Chloe let out breaths of relief as the elephantine couple bid them good-bye. They took nervous sips from their respective steel goblets.

“I think we made a better impression with them than with the last ones.” Chloe commented with forced optimism.

“Yeah, after we figured out which one was the man and which the woman.”

“Yeah, I kind of wish Jor-El had downloaded some information into us before he sent us. Kryptonians do have that kind of technology, right?”

Clark, wide-eyed, nodded, “Yeah, I have had to sit through quite a few of those ‘teaching sessions.’”

“But, you know, I’ve been feeling out the guests. They aren’t that turned off. They seem to have a lot of respect for us.” Clark nodded with interest. Chloe continued, “I kind of suspect it’s because we’re the Champions of Naman.” She said the title with fake regality.

Chloe sighed as she caught Clark staring at Lana again. But a quick examination of his expression told her he was feeling envy.

Taking a stab, she asked, “A tad jealous of Lex?”

“Yeah,” Clark replied immediately. Before Chloe’s heart could drop too far, he continued, “He knows how to talk to people. I mean, we’re in a room full of aliens from every type of culture and he’s cracking jokes. And there laughing. And they all love Lana, too.”

“Well, that’s her power. She can make everyone thinks she’s great.” Chloe’s brow lowered for a moment. “Of course, I kind of suspect that she had that power long before Jor-El came along.”

“Sure charmed the pants off of me.” Clark’s face when red as Chloe’s stifled laugh came out as an almost-snort. With remarkable innocence, he commented, “That came out wrong.”

The next couple that approached Clark and Chloe could have passed for human. They would have been on the short side for humans: the man (assuming he was the male) was barely as tall as Chloe in her heels, and the woman (assuming she was the female) three or four inches shorter than he. The man had thick brown-and-blue hair, all of which was slicked back, either naturally or chemically. The woman’s buoyant hair was all shades of cherry red to bubblegum pink to snow white. They both dressed in what appeared to be white bed sheets. The woman’s was tied around her torso like a strapless dress, though much of her right leg was exposed. The man’s outfit covered him from the neck down.

“Krisreo Varaqué,” the male said, extending his hand, exposing his bare arm as the folds of his robe slid away. Clark took it, hoping that it was the right thing to do. It would have been the first time all night. The man appeared to accept the gesture. “And this is—”

The woman cut him off, grasping both of Chloe’s hands and kissing both of her cheeks twice. She then did the same to Clark, pulling him down to meet her. “Maddinai…” She also stated her surname, but it was a series of uninscribable sounds. Off of Clark and Chloe’s stunned looked, she offered, “You can call me Maddie.”

Chloe had not had a full time mother figure since she was five. Sure, she remembered spending time with her Aunt Elle before she died, and Martha Kent was more than willing to play surrogate Mom in times of need, but in truth Chloe had had little experience seeing how to act like a hostess. So playing the wife of the man of the hour was difficult, but she tried. “Maddie,” she sweetly told the cute woman, “it’s so nice to meet you. We’re glad you could come. I dearly hope you are enjoying yourself.” Maybe she wasn’t so bad at it after all. “We’re very intrigued by the different dressing styles.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Clark and Krisreo talking animatedly about something. Perhaps Krisreo was a fan of whatever the equivalent of football was on his planet.

“Yes, especially your friend, Lanalang. I’d love to have an adapted Mulanian princess’s engagement gown.”

“Well, it ain’t for me.”

Maddie giggled. “And Lek? A Stazhian sultan high ceremony suit? It’s so appropriate, it’s almost controversial.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Stazhia is a country on the planet Kerr. They have a long, bloody history where the monarchy and various coups took turns ruling the country for millennia before a Parliament was finally established. Their royal bloodline doesn’t rule now. It’s just kind of ironic given the history of Naman and Sageeth… and Rayen…”

Chloe couldn’t prod much more, because Krisreo came by to collect his escort, stating that another couple—the names were incomprehensible—had demanded their presence. As they walked away, Chloe noticed for the first time that they had tails, his feline, hers vulpine.

Pete came up with Miss Tall-Green-and-Busty, introducing her as “Frogga.” Before Chloe had to suppress a giggle, Frogga corrected him, pronouncing the g’s in her name glottally. Clark noticed Pete talking below his breath, and as he listened in, he heard Pete say several times, “Talk to her boobs.”

Clark uncomfortably set his eyes on her chest, and told her hello. Chloe was about to pinch him when Pete interrupted, “Uh, Chloe, don’t get mad. Where she comes from, it’s where you’re supposed to talk at. They’re a completely non-sexual body part, like the elbow for us. Which is kind of ironic, because for them, the elbow is the most intimate region of their body.”

“Yes,” Frogga replied, “it’s highly respectful for you to speak to my nunu’s. I am curious, though. Peetros seems embarrassed to answer this question. While I understand that it is improper from humans to talk to one’s nunu’s in public, does your husband ever speak to them in private?”

“Funny story, actually…” Chloe stated, forgiving Clark completely for turning beet red.

“Anyway,” Frogga continued, “the nunu’s do not distinguish our genders as it is on your planet. My fiancé has a pair half my size.”

“You’re engaged?” Chloe asked.

“But of course. It is a most magnanimous gesture of generosity for my fiancé to have me escort the affianced Peetros to this ceremony.”

Chloe’s head jerked to Pete, “Affianced?!

Pete shook his head, “Excuse her; the courtship rituals on her planet are very different. Trust me, I am very un-affianced.”

Clark was about to ask about what “affianced” meant, when Chloe sensing his confusion, passively stated, “Engaged.”

Frogga bowed her head. “I apologize. Peetros, it is a pity you do live on Lilli. A man of your stature and shade of epidermis would be very attractive. You could perhaps be an übermodel, I believe it’s called on Earth.”

Chloe’s mind raced briefly, before replying, “I think she means supermodel.”

“Anyway, I am sure you’ve heard all about Peetros’s… companion?”

Clark, giving Pete an annoyed stare, replied, “No, actually, he’s been away for some time, and we haven’t heard anything.”

Matching his annoyed tone, Chloe added, “And we’re dying to hear.”

As Pete opened his mouth, Lois and Groo walked up. “Hey, guys, what’s up?” She then noticed Groo idly gazing at Frogga’s nunu’s. She elbowed him, “Hey, Tarzan, just ‘cause I gave you the okay to gander mine doesn’t mean you can fancy-free scope the rest of the room.”

When she turned back, the appalled stares of Pete, Clark, and Chloe gave her a sense of déjà vu from that morning.

Chloe cleared her throat. “Well, Lois, I got to tell ya. For someone who wants to keep her date’s eyes focused on her alone, you’re sure giving the whole room a little show.”

Lois pointed to a certain section of her costume and stated defensively, “I’ll have you know that this is a replica of the garbs of the high priests of the planet of Pamandli. And, uh, aren’t you one to talk, girl?” She gave Chloe a tilt of the head which shut up Chloe, who did her best to adjust the neckline of her dress without using her hands. She was completely unsuccessful as she could only use her upper arms, which probably added more to the problem than the solution during her attempts.

Pete joked, “Well, at least you and your date match.”

Groo stood tall and replied, “Peetros, this is the highest cerebration wear on Pylea.”

“That’s formal?” he joked, “I’d hate to see what casual is.”

“I said ‘celebration.’ If you were to visit my home, you would understand that Pyleans have no concept of ‘formality.’”

The conversation was ended as Beizhepan spoke into the PA system. “Guests, the hour has arrived for us to begin the dance festivities. We would like to invite our esteemed guests of honor Clarkent and Clo-ee Sullavin to the center of the room to perform a tradition dance. As you will know, it is proper in both Kryptonian and Kawatche cultures for guests to join in.”

Clark and Chloe suddenly found themselves in the spotlight, literally. They sneered at Pete and Lois as followed their dates and the rest of the room in backing up to watch. From an unseen band came what sounded like Native American tribal dance music with a heavy beat. Chloe stood in front of Clark with wide eyes. Sighing, he asked, “Remember in eighth grade American History when we watched that movie about the Native Americans?”

Chloe remembered all too clearly. And though Chloe almost always welcomed Clark’s heroics, his suggestion to save face was not Chloe’s first choice. But as she had no other options, she did what she had to do. As Clark pressed his hands together and lifted them above his head, she held her hands out like bird’s wings. She counted them off and they leapt into motion, Clark making a chopping motion with his hand, Chloe flapping her arms like a bird. Four beats later, they began to hop on one foot. Soon, the were making circles around each other, hopping from foot to foot, occasionally taking each others’ hands to reverse direction. To their relief, Pete and Frogga soon joined them on the floor, inventing their own motions. They were followed by Lois and Groo. Soon the majority of the room was hopping on the floor, motioning, spinning, and switching from foot to foot (to foot, in some cases).

Much to Clark’s relief, the next song played was not a Native American ritual song, rather a slow, simple piece in 3/4 time: a waltz.

“Can you—?” Chloe began to ask before Clark laid his hand on her hip, grasped her left hand, and took a strong forward step, starting them in a simple box step. After Clark extended his right arm, allowing her to spin, she did so with six gracefully even steps.

Clark leaned in to whisper in Chloe’s ear. “You dance well.”

She tilted her head to face him. “All good Metropolis girls go to Cotillion to learn to dance like this. Not so bad yourself, might I add. Do good Smallville boys do the same?” She sounded almost incredulous.

“No, but the sons of good Metropolis girls learn from their mothers.” Chloe nodded. Clark motioned with his head to Lois and Groo, who were dancing very close. “I see Lois is having no problems. So, she’s a good Metropolis girl, too?”

“I think to be a good Metropolis girl, you can’t be caught making out behind the stage during the etiquette portion of the lesson.”

Clark laughed. His eyes dropped to her neck. “Is your necklace blinking faster?”

Chloe looked down. She briefly wanted to tease him about his wandering eyes, but noted that her necklace was indeed blinking faster than before. In addition, while not actually squeezing her, her wiry bracelet was gripping her forearm more tightly. She looked back at him, “Yeah, it is a little. I blame the heat.”

“It is kind of crowded.” Whether they noticed it or not, the etiquette-standard basketball-sized distance that separated them when they first started waltzing had shrunk to more of a baseball-sized distance. Clark’s mind flashed back to four years ago, dancing with a beautiful blond at a Spring Formal, and the look in Chloe’s eyes told him that her thoughts were in the same place. As the memory played back in their minds, their heads began to tilt just as they had at the dance years ago.

But no sooner than they began to lean in, Groo’s accented voice asked, “Clark, may I have the pleasure of dancing with your wife?”

The baseball-sized distance soon became a basketball-sized distance before become a beach ball-sized distance. “Of course,” Clark stated, “if that’s okay with you, Chloe.”

Chloe smiled and said, “Sure.” However, Clark noted that her smile reminded him of times when Chloe had little reason to be happy. The thoughts were fleeting as Groo left Lois standing. Clark extended his hand, “Lois?”

With business-like swiftness, Lois was in formal dance position with Clark. And with a brisk, business-like tone, she told her tall friend, “Okay, Smallville, just wanted to mention something. Neither of us is unaware that Chloe, in the past, if only that, has had feelings for you, and that you at one point did reciprocate. Now, given what I hear about you and Lana’s history, I’d believe you might still be stinging and that your mind may not really be that focused on looking in other directions. But just the same, I don’t want to hear that you took advantage of this pretend ‘marriage’ you and my cousin have to push your luck.”

“Lois, you know I’d never…”

Lois’s tone didn’t change. “Yeah, Clark, you wouldn’t, would ya? I’ve heard stories about how you’re always at one extreme or the other: either you won’t make a move, or you’ll make all of them.” She let this sink in before mentioning, more softly, “You see Groo? He comes from a planet where people who look like him are treated like slaves.”

“Because of his race?”

“Because he looks human. Anyway, Groo asked me to this shindig. He thought he had no business doing so with an ‘esteemed dignitary’ like me, but he at least asked. It’s the kind of attitude that makes me wonder why you strung Lana and Chloe along for so long.”

“I didn’t, I just…”

Clark, regardless, what Chloe has or had for you was never just a crush. You’re Chloe’s closest friend, and you don’t have ‘just a crush’ on someone you know so well, especially for so long. The girl may not get over you until you figure out what you feel. Stop hurtin’ my cuz.”

“It’s not like I try…”

Lois disregarded the comment, as she watched Groo and Chloe dance, “It’s it weird how Groo can come from a distant planet and yet look so close to human? And all the same feel like an outsider? Can you imagine?”

Distantly, Clark replied, “Yeah…” When Lois looked back, he added, “Yeah, I can imagine.” He paused a moment before commenting, “You’re taking this there-are-aliens-among-us thing pretty well.”

“I’m standing in a room full of them. What other choice do I have? What about you? You don’t seem fazed.”

“I have open mind.”

Lois turned back to watch Chloe and Groo. As Chloe laughed at something Groo said, Lois’s brow twisted and she stepped on Clark’s foot. She didn’t seem to notice she had done it, and since it didn’t cause Clark any pain, he didn’t comment. Without turning her head to look at Clark, she asked, “Is Chloe flirting with Groo?”

“Lois, I think we both know that when it comes to reading Chloe’s expressions, I’m lost.”

“Robinson Crusoe,” Lois added. She looked down at their feet. “Not bad with the footwork, Smallville.”

“Uh, my mother was a ‘good Metropolis girl.’”

Lois nodded knowingly, “Yeah, I keep forgetting that the lady who makes such good homemade apple pies comes from the big city. Now, she’s Miss Senator. ‘Good Metropolis girl,’ huh? Had Chloe been bragging about me?”

Clark didn’t have time to answer as a new song started, and Lois took the opportunity to reclaim her date, leaving Clark with only a pithy “thanks.”

As Chloe came strolling back, she sweetly asked, “So what are we doing now?”

Clark offered his arm, which was readily taken. “I say we get another cup of that wonderful raspberry punch and dance a little more. Gotta have people believing we’re happily married.”

The smile on Chloe’s face reminded Clark of times when Chloe had reason to be very happy.

* * *

Clark and Chloe entered their room with Chloe swatting away Clark’s arms. The raspberry-tasting beverage at the banquet that Clark had taken to apparently contained some substance which was capable of giving Clark the same effects that alcohol gave Earth humans. Luckily, the four gobletfuls he had were only enough to slightly lower his inhibitions. Perhaps it’s dissolved red kryptonite, Chloe mused. Nonetheless, he had gotten the idea in his head it would be really funny to carry Chloe across the threshold of their room. Chloe had somehow prevented it.

Clark removed his headdress and laid it on a dresser, a goofy grin on his face. “Well, that was fun. Maybe we ought to enter that little routine in a talent show.”

Clark, we’re college students.”

“You know, a karaoke bar.”

Clark, we’ve long established that either of us and karaoke is a bad match.”

Chloe might not have been paying attention, or maybe Clark had supersped, but without warning, he was very close to her, stating, “But you know how much I love your rendition of Fefe Dobson’s ‘Kiss Me Fool.’”

How did Clark remember that? Super-memory must be one of his new powers.

Maybe the red-kryptonite-alcohol was wearing off, because Chloe felt Clark become more serious. “You know, Groo was telling me today that I was really lucky to have you as my wife.” They shared a quick chuckle. “But, you know, he was right. Naman would have been really blessed to have a Loral like you. You’re incredibly loyal and understanding and heroic…” The soft grip on her shoulder could have meant anything. Clark was releasing a fury of emotions, and Chloe was having trouble deciphering them until his hand brushed her hair, when it all became abundantly clear which emotion was dominant. He tilted his head forward, and she couldn’t help but do the same. However, his kiss fell upon her temple, which confused Chloe, because she was reading a completely unmistakable set of emotions from Clark, and they did not lead to a friendly kiss on the head. His head, however, kept moving forward so that his temple was against hers. “We’re not alone. I hear breathing.” Clark’s words were whispered very lightly, but as his lips were right next to her ear, she had no trouble hearing him. Chloe extended her senses further, and picked up a strong sense of overprotectiveness coming from some unseen body in the room, which could only mean one thing.

Chloe was about to play it off, pretend she didn’t notice her cousin, but she caught a fleeting sense of amusement from Clark, a devilish thought that must have passed through his head. It was distinct enough that Chloe immediately understood his brief intentions. She pulled away so she could give him an overemphasized waggish grin. Clark’s face soon matched hers.

She, being the slyer of the two, began the charade. Clark…” Her voice was full of frustration. “Lighten up. Lois is not going to walk in the door and catch us. Plus, even if she did, we’ve been close all night. I’m sure she’ll think it’s just accumulated tension. She’s not gonna realize we’ve been sneaking around, and… stuff…” She trailed off, smirking inwardly.

Chloe felt an uncharacteristic swell of craftiness in Clark. It outmatched hers, so she braced herself for whatever Clark was going to say next. “I’m sorry, Chloe. It’s just, it’s getting really complicated. Pretending to be married; it’s ironic, don’t you think?” Why he was tracing the blue paint line on her neck she did not know.

Chloe had barely steeled herself for this kind of response, but her next action came before she could think it through. Grabbing the lapels of Clark’s shirt, she replied, starting to take a few steps backwards, pulling Clark along, “Yeah. But, c’mon, we’d just have been kissing. We’d lock the doors if we were going to reenact our honeymoon.” Chloe immediately realized she’d pushed it too far, but it became a moot issue when she neglected to count her steps. She’d tripped over the foot of the bed and Clark was falling toward her.

Clark’s superhuman reflexes allowed him to throw his arms out in time to prevent him from crushing Chloe. Luckily, in this position, Lois could not see that they’d both dropped their game faces and now wore faces of panic. The reverie was broken anyway by the screaming of a now visible Lois. “WHAT THE….?!” Apparently there wasn’t a word worthy of finished the exclamation. “YOU’RE M—…” The word never came.

Clark and Chloe were free to burst into fits of laughter. Clark rolled over and the fact that they had nearly been lying on top of each other was forgotten. Wiping away the tears on her cheek, Chloe responded, “Voyeur!”

Lois was caught. “You’re terrible, you know that, cuz? Here I am, protecting you from a 19-year-old male, and you go ahead and nearly seduce him in front of my eyes! But I have to give you two credit. Clark, that lead-in line to Chloe about being a good Loral or whatever, it had me convinced. The rest seemed kind of forced. Take an acting class or two.”

Chloe folded her arms. “Weren’t you leaving?”

“Night, love birds. Remind me to kill you later.” She didn’t actually storm out of the room, but it was close to storming.

A few moments passed and Clark and Chloe went on preparing for bed. Clark, fully changed into pants and an appropriately sized tee-shirt, sat on the side of the bed, and looked up. Chloe was taking off her jewelry, and tears were streaming down her face.

~

A/N: Wow, this to me seems even more cliffhangerish than the last chapter. I wonder if that means people are going to start screaming out stuff like, “Why is she crying?!” or “What’s up with Lex?!” or “How can I meet Frogga?” Well, you’ll just have to wait those two weeks or so that it takes me to whip it into shape. I promise that it’ll be up by Labor Day.

By the way, twenty points to whoever can figure out the karaoke joke.

^_^ - No, my poor Chloe! Why is she crying?!

Chapter 6: Banquet

©2006 Godeerc VanDrey Enterprises, Inc. Created Friday, July 21, 2006. Finished Tuesday, August 22, 2006. Updated Friday, October 20, 2006.

No comments: