Kinnit and Admiral Stonefist spent the following day taking in many of the pleasures the Ophir had to offer.

It was a whirlwind as they bounced from activity to activity, but Admiral Stonefist still seemed strangely tense. Kinnit worried about him a bit, but he seemed to be having fun, as far as she could tell. There was no end to the activities, but after a long day of fun, they began to wind down.

Laughing with delight, yet tired, they returned to their suites. Grimthorn walked her to her door.

"Will I see you at the ball tonight?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course!" she gushed. "Nothing could make me miss it!"

"Very well. I'll see you at 1900 hours. I'll be waiting at the entrance to the Star Deck."

He bowed and withdrew, walking to his own suite. She watched him go, her mind turning over.

She shook the thought out of her head and went in to lie down for a nap.

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Kinnit was awakened an hour later by a firm, yet deferential knock at her door. She sat up muzzily, temporarily confused, wondering what had happened to her quarters, and why her bunk was so soft.

She remembered where she was as the knock sounded again. She hastily got out of bed, rubbing her eyes and answered it. She recoiled slightly at the two dressmakers standing outside her door.

Why don't they use the door chime? she wondered.

They bustled in, with their long, angular, overly jointed bodies and immediately started fussing over her.

"We have the lovely dress for you," said one of them.

"Yes, very nice. You will be the center of every eye," said the other.

"First, we must finish the fitting."

They worked around her, dressing her, tweaking the ballgown, showing her how to wear the jewelry, and to properly affix the sandals.

She grinned insincerely and tried to understand everything they were telling her, while also trying not to crawl out of her skin at their touch.

At last, the dress was properly sized, and she was fully accoutered. They led her to the full-length trifold mirror in the bedroom so she could see the final product.

Kinnit gasped at the image in the mirrors. This was not her, surely? Some illusion, perhaps?

But the Kobold in the mirror smiled back at her, and her heart swelled.

She was dressed in a rich, emerald-green, floor length ballgown. It left her shoulders and collarbone bare, dipping to a shallow v on her chest. The smooth fabric fell to the floor like a waterfall, belling out from her hips.

Small golden trinkets dangled from the tips of her horns, the embedded emeralds glittering and flashing as they swung with every turn of her head. Flat, elegant sandals graced her feet, the straps lined with emerald green rhinestones to match the dress.

Her pale red skin deepened in color as she took in her form in the elegant ballgown.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered.

"You love it. Of course," said one of the dressmakers. "Very beautiful girl makes gown making easy."

"Thank you so much," she said, still looking in the mirror, turning herself around, trying to catch herself from every angle.

"Very good. We have others to deliver. We must go now."

"Yes," she said dreamily. "You are both so very talented. Thank you."

The dressmakers withdrew, leaving Kinnit staring at herself in the mirror.

Perhaps-- just perhaps-- she was not quite as out of place here as she'd thought.

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Grimthorn stood outside the Star Deck, waiting for Kinnit. He was nervous, though what he had to be nervous about, he had no clue. His dress blues, freshly pressed and cleaned, practically shone. A good, tailored uniform can make any man look good, but Grimthorn recognized how fortunate he was to have the natural body shape to take full advantage of the Navy dress blues, with their deep, rich hue offset by the bright gold piping.

He stood at attention, watching couples enter. A worm of worry gnawed at him. Surely she hadn't changed her mind? Perhaps she was too tired from the activities earlier in the day. Perhaps she felt uncomfortable at a fancy dress ball. Perhaps she felt this was not an appropriate activity for them.

More people entered, and his worries grew. The lift at the end of the hall opened frequently, and each time his heart jumped, looking for her smile, her eyes, but each time it was just some other couple.

Finally, she arrived. The lift opened, and she appeared, and all his fretful thoughts fled away. She was stunning in her gown, a shy smile on her face. She stepped forward gracefully, the dress flowing around her like water.

He felt his face drain, taken by her beauty, struck to the bone by the very sight of her. At that moment he knew he was lost. There was no more escaping it. He was going to confess to her, tonight. Whether she accepted him or not, he had to tell her.

He loved her.

She came forward, the confidence of her stride belying her shy smile. She came to him, and looked up into his face, her wide, beautiful eyes seeking out his. She leaned forward.

"Close your mouth, Grimthorn," she whispered, her smile growing. He shut his mouth with a click and remembered himself.

"Yes! Yes, um. Miss Kinnit, would you do me the honor?" He made a small bow and held out an elbow. She slipped her warm arm into his, scrambling his thoughts again.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He led the way into the Star Deck, which had been decorated for the ball. Pale Corinthian columns circled the ballroom, draped with white silk. A small orchestra played at one end of the ballroom, filling the deck with the strains of a waltz.

"Do you dance, Miss Kinnit?" Grimthorn asked.

"A little," she said, coloring. "I know some simple dances, but I haven't practiced them much."

"Then would you consent to practice with me, Miss?" he asked.

She tittered. He seemed almost nervous, but she knew that was ridiculous. Nothing could make Admiral Grimthorn Stonefist nervous.

She curtseyed.

"I would love to, Mr. Grimthorn."

He led her to the floor and they joined the waltz. They started a little clumsily, as she was new and he was rusty, but soon they found the rhythm and began circling the floor in harmony with the string quartet, and with each other.

Several times, Grimthorn tried to start a conversation, to say something, to let her know how he felt, but each time he looked into her eyes, his thoughts scattered. She danced with him, a wisp in his hands, her gleaming eyes turned up to his, and he could do no more than dance, his heart thumping with each step.

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Kinnit moved in time with the music, in time with Grimthorn's body, her feet finding the right steps to flow with him.

Her slender left hand rested on his, swallowed by his massive palm. Her right hand rested on his shoulder. She was intensely aware of his hand on her waist as she gazed into his strong, stern face.

She had been wrong, yesterday, when she'd said that nothing could be better than looking at the stars.

She couldn't even see the stars right now.

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They danced for hours, it seemed, wheeling together beneath the galaxy. They took brief breaks, sipping punch and chatting, but at long last, Kinnit begged off and asked to sit down.

They walked to one of the tasteful benches surrounding the Star Deck. She sat, catching her breath, her color high, and her face stamped with delight.

Grimthorn took a deep breath. While they had been dancing, he thought-- maybe-- he'd detected a hint in her eyes, a suggestion that his feelings might, in some small way, be returned.

He hoped with all his heart.

Grimthorn stood in front of her. They were resting, and she was as happy as he'd ever seen her.

This was it. Now or never.

"I have something important to tell you," he said abruptly.

"Yes, Grimthorn?"

"Kinnit, I--" his brow knitted.

She looked up at him expectantly. His expression sank into his familiar frown, and he looked down at his feet.

"Something's wrong," he said.

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Grimthorn strode quickly down the broad hallway, power walking at top speed. Kinnit struggled to keep up with him, nearly running to keep pace with his long strides. Her beautiful dress was doing her no favors, slowing her down.

"Sir?" she asked, trying to catch her breath. "What's going on?"

"The engines cycled up," he said. "For some reason, the Ophir has started going flat out."

"How do you know?"

"The deck. Can't you feel it? The vibration of the reactor hums through the whole ship."

"I didn't feel anything," she said.

One the on hand, the inertial dampers on the Ophir were designed to smooth out the feel of the engines on board the ship, more so than on any military ship. On the other hand, Admiral Stonefist had been among the stars for longer than she'd been alive, and he was deeply attuned to the workings of any vessel he was on.

"What does it mean, sir?"

"We're about to find out."

They arrived at the bridge. The door was open, and there was confusion and shouting inside. A lone ensign stood in the hallway, and held up a hand.

"This is a restricted area, sir," he said in a squeaky voice. "Please return to the passenger area."

"I am Admiral Grimthorn Stonefist of the Ninth Fleet, and this is my Assistant, Kinnit. I'd like permission to enter the bridge and help, if I can."

The poor ensign looked trapped and unsure what to do.

"You should go ask the Captain," Grimthorn suggested.

"But I'm not allowed on the bridge," he said. "Especially not in an emergency."

"The door's open," Kinnit pointed out. "Maybe you can just talk to the Captain from here?"

With round, panicked eyes, the ensign nodded. He turned and yelled through the open doorway.

"Captain Prower! There's an Admiral here to see you!"

A stern-looking lady in her forties paused her yelling, and looked at the unfortunate ensign.

"What are you talking about, Carl?" she barked.

Grimthorn stepped up to the door and saluted.

"Admiral Stonefist of the Ninth Fleet. Do you need any assistance?"

Captain Prower glared at him for a long moment, then nodded curtly.

"Join me on the bridge, Admiral. We could use some military advice."

Admiral Stonefist and Kinnit entered the bridge and joined the Captain on the dais.

"How did you know something was going on?" she asked as he entered.

"I felt the engines cycling up to full power. That only happens during drills and emergencies."

She snorted.

"Impossible. These dampers are galaxy-class, the finest and most powerful anywhere in the Imperium."

"You're right," he said. "I just picked this exact moment to suddenly take a tour of the bridge." Captain Prower's mouth twisted. "But we can talk about that later. What's the situation?"

"The spinward jumphole suddenly started emitting fighters," she said. "Hundreds. I don't know what they are, but they don't look friendly, and they're not responding to comms. We're trying to get to the far side of the planet from them."

"Where are your scans?" he asked. She pointed him to a large display on one side of the dais. Kinnit looked at the data, trying to parse it from a much smaller screen than she was used to, watching the fighters boiling out of the jumphole.

"Those energy signatures," Kinnit said. "Those are Vylar fighters."

Admiral Stonefist swore.

"And I'll bet the pilots are insectoids," he said.

"What does that mean?" asked Captain Prower.

"Nothing good," Grimthorn said. "But I guarantee they're not here for the view of Mebrin."

"What can we do?"

"You won't be able to outrun them," he said. "Get in contact with the Ninth Fleet, get them hauling mass out here. Use my access code," he said, handing her his scanner.

Captain Prower nodded to her communications officer, who turned back to his console.

At that moment, the blunt nose of a heavy cruiser emerged from the jumphole. The mood on the bridge grew somber, and the crew rattled to a halt, watching the cruiser arrive, bristling with weapons.

"Alright, people, don't stop now," Admiral Stonefist called. "Let's keep focused on our duties." More quietly, he said, "Captain, is the Ophir outfitted with any weapons?"

"Just the microlasers for zapping space dust and micrometeorites," she said. "Nothing that would scratch that beast." Her brows drew down as he made a face. "We're a civilian vessel, Admiral."

"Very well. Warm them up. They probably won't do much to the fighters, either, but it might keep them busy. What else? Shields? What kinds of shielding do you have?"

"We have Xyntic Class 8 shields."

Admiral Stonefist paused and raised his eyebrows.

"That's... very good. For a civilian vessel. Get those up and keep them powered. That will slow down the fighters, at least."

"What about the heavy cruiser?"

"Oh, nothing you have will stop the blasters on that thing. The good news is that that's an Oryndrax ship, so they're short range blasters, and probably only half of them even work. They'll have to get right on top of us to use them."

"Can we outrun them?" Captain Prower asked.

"What engines do you have on this thing?"

"We have 8 full reactors and two emergency half-reactors driving eighteen Zephyr Micro engines."

Grimthorn frowned.

"Can you get the base specs for the ship? Mass distribution?"

Captain Prower pulled up stats on her dais monitor. Admiral Stonefist frowned at the data.

Kinnit felt out of place on the bridge in her ballgown, but she spoke up after scanning the data.

"Sir, the Ophir won't be able to outrun a heavy cruiser."

Grimthorn shook his head.

"We wouldn't need to outrun them for long. Just until the Ninth Fleet arrives."

"Captain!" the comms officer called. "We can't get a message through! The cruiser... I think it's jamming us!"