Learning to Dance

not to be deterred for long, kept up a steady commentary
throughout the endless speeches, mostly related to the
fashion choices of the guests, but managed to slip in a few
gleeful pieces of gossip here and there. Taz, at whom most
of this was directed, nodded a lot, but her eyes were busy
scanning the ballroom for the same signal Up was looking
for.
Suddenly Taz’s leg pressed into his under the table, hard.
Startled, he looked at her, and she flicked her eyes to the
left, then turned back to February.
Up stood up. “Please excuse me. Duty calls.”
He walked in the direction she’d indicated, nodding
hello at random people until finally the lens in his eye
indicated their target – young, fit, and impeccably dressed,
he was clearly human – and in possession of the
information diamond they were looking for. He willed the
man to look his way – if he could get eye contact, even for
a few seconds, the lens should be able to identify him.
No dice. The target was engrossed in conversation with
his lovely Jovian dinner partner, and Up had no choice but
to pass him by. As he walked behind the man’s table, he let
the pin-sized tracking device he was holding between his
fingers casually drop into the pocket of the dinner jacket
slung over his chair.
When Up returned to the dinner table, their first course
had been served and Taz looked like she was ready to stab
someone with her dessert fork. Under cover of February
informing the lady on her other side all about the latest
blow-drying techniques on Neptune, he bent close to Taz.
“I’ve bugged him – it will activate if he leaves the hall.
Keep your eye on him. We’ll have to see if we can get him
on his own.”
“Lo tengo,” she said. “If I learn one more thing about
this season’s preferred height for stilettos the knife tied to