Learning to Dance

Taz, whose face was set in an angry soldier’s mask, her
eyes not leaving the robot, her zapper clenched tightly in
her hands. “Do you remember,” she’d said on the deck of
the starship, “When we met at my quinceañera? And you
saved me from those killer robots who tried to string me up
like a piñata and smash me open so they could eat my
guts?”
“Yeah,” he’d nodded. How could he forget? “I destroyed
them.”
“That was tough!”
She'd been trying so hard, he could tell, even through her
disappointment with him. “You told me something once,”
she'd said, swinging her hands in that way she had. “That
no matter how hard you get knocked down, you've got to
get back up. So now it's your turn – get back up!”
He'd caught a glimpse then, for a moment, of the Taz he
loved best. The one with her defences down, the one he’d
last seen laughing in the sand on that beach in Mexico-
Aw, shit.
He was still in love with her.
And he’d let her down.
“All right, boys and girls,” he said, trying desperately to
sound like the commander he used to be. “Follow me.”
It was nighttime on the alien world, and they’d landed in
some sort of a jungle, rife with buzzing sounds and all
kinds of imaginative noises that gave them all pause. Specs’
namesake spectrometer indicated that the science officer’s
com signal was coming from the direction of a series of
tunnels not far off. Zappers came out, and were held at the
ready.
It was certainly the most – colourful - team he’d ever
been in command of. Krayonder seemed to be on the verge
of a panic attack. The Megagirl robot unit – which still
made his heart quiver - kept up a steady stream of quips