She made her way through the turbine hall, surrounded by an ever-changing ring of friends, admirers and animals — nebula to her attractive focus — talking to her guests, giving instructions to her staff, making suggestions and offering compliments to the many and various entertainers. Music filled the echoing space above the ancient, gleaming machines, sitting silently amongst the chattering throng of gaily dressed party-goers. She bowed graciously and smiled to a passing Admiral and twirled a delicate black flower in her hand, putting the bloom to her nose to draw in its heady fragrance.

Two of the hralzs at her feet leapt up, yelping, fore-paws attempting to find purchase on the smooth lap of her formal gown, their glistening snouts raised to the flower. She bent, tapping both animals gently on the nose with the bloom, making them bounce down to the floor again, sneezing and shaking their heads. The people around her laughed. Stooping, gown belling, she rubbed her hands through the pelt of one of the animals, shaking its big ears, then raised her head to the major-domo as he approached, deferentially threading his way through the crowd around her.

"Yes, Maikril?" she said.

"The System Times photographer," the major-domo said quietly. He straightened as she rose, until he was looking up at her, his chin level with her bare shoulders.

"Admitting defeat?" She grinned.

"I believe so, ma'am. Requesting an audience."

She laughed. "So well put. How many did we get this time?"

The major-domo sidled a little closer, looking nervously at one of the hralzs when it snarled at him. "Thirty-two moving-picture cameras ma'am; over a hundred still."

She brought her mouth conspiratorially close to the major-domo's ear and said, "Not counting the ones we found on our guests."