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Shorter than a male AAnn but wider of hip, the elegantly clad female who entered behind him started to turn away to allow the individual in front of her to finish his business unobserved. Taking a second look at the slightly slumped male figure, she hesitated. His stance showed he was improperly positioned to properly void. Instead, he appeared to be leaning against the enclosing, curving wall for support. This insight instinctively suggested two possible courses of action. She could attack him while he was physically weakened and potentially gain status. Or she could demonstrate compassion, offer help, and perhaps gain the same. Much depended on how seriously he was incapacitated. If only a little, then a challenge would be worthwhile. If, however, his condition was serious, then an assault on another nye who was not in condition to fight back would cause her to lose merit.

Without having to turn to see her, Flinx sensed her confusion along with her presence. Despite the pain coursing through his skull he concentrated on calming Pip. The last thing he needed was for the flying snake to burst free from some unnatural opening in the simsuit to attack a startled passerby. In response to his silent urgings, Pip remained tightly wound around his right arm and made no move to defend him.

“Pssannch.” He fought to stand upright and move away from the wall. “A falsse calling. The body playss trickss with digesstion. The sstation is yourss.” He managed to straighten. The invisible gnomes mining for gold at the back of his skull continued their agonizing attempts at extraction.

Intensely bright slitted eyes stared into his own. One eyelid closed briefly, then the second. “You look unwell, citizen.”

Designed to accommodate one nye at a time, the voiding station made a single privacy bend as it cut deeply into the wall. It was very narrow and they were very close. He started to edge past her, remembering to finger the correct sensor so that his tail would not slap into her. Were it to do so, the action could be interpreted as either a challenge or an invitation to classically violent AAnn cuddling—neither of which he wished to incite.

“A momentary pain. An old fighting injury, incurred againsst the bugss.”

“Ahriinn!” She backed up, giving him as much room as possible to slide past. Soldiering was revered among the AAnn, with those who had seen action against their traditional enemies the thranx being held in the highest regard of all. “Iss there nothing I can do for you?”

Her words could have been an attempt to promote more intimate interaction. At the risk of appearing impolite, he fought back the pain in his head as he stepped toward the winding walkway beyond.

“I am mated,” he gasped weakly in her direction.

“Sso am I,” the female responded. “I freely abjure reproduction.”

“No time,” he muttered. “Bachaanssk, and in addition to that I am late for duty.” With his left arm he executed a second-degree gesture of appreciation and stumbled out onto the street.

The throbbing that threatened to tear his head off his shoulders finally began to subside. Thankfully, the female did not pursue, choosing instead to make use of the hygienic facility that had given him temporary refuge. He could feel Pip relax slightly against his arm, responding in kind as his own concern eased.

It had been a near thing. He decided then and there he would take no more such risks. He had done enough, had won the hand he had played, had more than achieved the outrageous goals he had set for himself when he had first decided to embark on the attempt. Having survived a teverravak in the most closely guarded, sacrosanct part of the entire Empire, he would not push his luck any further. The gamble had been well taken, the time judiciously spent. It confirmed to him that irrespective of species, what ultimately mattered was that the glow of intelligence be preserved. That was what was worth fighting for, no matter which political or racial entity eventually came to dominate the galaxy. As a consequence he, Philip Lynx, would do his