My thanks to the reviewers:Gomro Morskopp, Isamu, Katsumara, whitem, CajunBear73, Reader101w, Shrike176, TheRedKommie, MrDrP, King in Yellow, Muzzlehatch and the other readers. If damming could have helped, this chapter would have gotten out long ago.
Chapter 21: Fall Formal: Tonight's Entertainment
WTOS
A quick walk up the stairs brought Kim and Ron to the next floor. Midway down the hall stood a decorated archway bathed with lighting and camera flashes. The paparazzi were there for more than just Team Possible. Miskatonic's student body boasted scions of prominent families the world over. One such couple was posing for photographs when the young man saw them approach.
"Ron!" the boy smiled and hurried over with his date. "I wondered when you would show up.
"And it is an honor to meet you, Kim Possible. I have heard so much about you; it can be difficult to get Ron to think about anything else at times. I am Amal bin Ras al Ghul, Ron's study buddy."
"A pleasure. And thanks for helping keep Ron up to his potential. I've heard a lot about you, also."
Amal introduced the girl beside him, whose red dress achieved glamour without sacrificing modesty. The exotic beauty and jaw-dropping jewelry certainly did not hurt. "This is A'lia bint Fasil: Princess of Q'ter. By desert standards, she's the girl next door! Who knew I would have to travel so far to meet her?"
"Life's strange like that." Ron nodded. After they shook hands he had a question for Amal. "Speaking of strange, have you seen Mac?"
"Not yet. Steve went inside a little while ago, with more escorts than a flagship."
"Come on, KP, let's run the gauntlet." First they posed for the Formal's photographer, then the paparazzi took over, snapping pictures and firing off questions. Kim found it all just a bit unsettling, but the crowd was well controlled, their price for access. Still, it was a repeat of Italy in regards to one issue.
"Well, of course I kissed him like I meant it, he is my boyfriend." She answered one, wrapping Ron's arm up in hers and giving a coy smile.
"So, you didn't just fall for Miskatonic's new football hero?"
"We've been best friends since pre-K, and dated since the Junior Prom." Kim replied. "And we've never looked back."
"But you've had so many boyfriends the past two years." Another tabloid reporter stated. "There was Lon Notable, Don Robbable, Juan Anzable…"
"They never get my name right." Ron shook his head. "And you'd think I would've have shown up in at least one picture."
The answer was another barrage of flashes. "Enough questions, Ron, time to dance!"
The two couples entered Miskatonic's Fall Formal. An old room had once again assumed ball room status. Before they made it to the dance floor A'lia moved up to Kim.
"You did a very good job with those reporters."
"Thanks."
"I wish I had done so well, but I have little experience speaking in public. Father has insisted I take some rhetoric courses here, as I may someday assume the throne."
"That's not a public address, that's surviving a feeding frenzy. I think I'd rather be handcuffed over some bubbling vat."
"Come on, KP, they weren't that bad." Ron gave her a comforting rub on the arm.
She shrugged. "Maybe not, but when will the world know that we're a pair?"
"Be glad there are no dynastic issues involved." Amal joined in, with A'lia nodding in agreement.
Just then lights from the stage caught their attention. The main act was ready. By the look on the announcer's face, the Fall Formal Entertainment Committee had scored a coup again this year.
"Ladies and gentlemen." She began. "You've read about them on the boards, followed their blog, caught their webcasts, and downloaded, legally I'm sure, some of their tracks. Here they are, in English, on the first stop of the 'For the World Tour': Erich and the Zann!"
The crowd roared its approval. Kim and Ron looked around; feeling just a shade provincial. Middleton had largely ignored the European pop scene. Certainly they did not recognize the willowy young man with pale skin, long hair and haunted eyes who stepped up to the microphone.
"Looks like he should be playing the viola." Kim whispered.
As if they had heard the band broke into a brooding tone with an almost hypnotic beat while Erich crooned of what the night winds whisper to those to whom sleep will not come. Kim could feel the goosebumps rising when Ron touched her arm.
"C'mon, KP. They've got a beat, let's dance to it."
Among the many ways Kim Possible was you basic, average girl was her love of music and dancing. All too often boys who shared such interests either (a) willing to share their gifts with any attractive girl (b) insufferable peacocks or (c) don't really like girls in, you know, that way. Happily, Ron fit into none of the above. She was aware of his lack of shame for many years, but it took the Junior Prom to discover he had a real sense of rhythm.
They danced to the fast songs. They danced to the slow songs. Erich drew inspiration from every musical source imaginable, and if they had asked some of the other dancers, rumors hinted at other, less conventional muses as well. Kim and Ron moved to the weird, wonderful sounds.
The crowd looked ready to collapse when the band finished its first set. People looked about in wonder, coming up with a theory explaining the feeling. They headed for the refreshments.
"Good idea." Ron said, "Let's get some punch."
They made their way over along with Amal and A'lia. Their eyes went wide at the sight they came upon. Ron swallowed.
"Mac, are you wearing…a dress?"
"Ron, as many times as we've faced down Killigan, you should recognize a kilt." Kim chided. Though a full-length ball gown would've come as no surprise.
Ron's gawky suitemate was indeed in Scottish attire. With the formal tie and jacket it was actually a good look for him. "This is the authentic Makarash tartan, though the original name was MacCarish. I can rightfully wear it. And I feel so free! I may make all of my lower wear kilts. Why would anyone develop—pants legs—in the first place?"
"I'm a pants man myself, but the breeze can be refreshing." Ron said. Amal, familiar with another pantsless clothing style, nodded.
"Ron, Amal, A'lia. I had hoped to see you here. Ah, Kim Possible, it is such an honor."
Kim had heard this often, but never in such a way. Yes, many said it with sincere admiration, but Mac sounded as though he were meeting a mythical figure.
"Uh, thanks. Ron's told me all about you."
The strangest expression flitted across Mac's face. "I would shake your hand but as you can see mine are full."
That was hardly surprising for someone walking away from the refreshment tables. What shocked his friends was that he held two cups. He could not help but smile. "Let me introduce you to my date."
Three jaws dropped when a girl emerged from the crowd and took the cup from Mac's hand before wrapping an arm around his. Ron and Amal were stunned at how someone like Mac could be with the blond beside him. Kim's shock came not from the mismatch, but from knowing the woman in question.
"Myna?"
"Hello, Kim." The fellow Crimson replied, without a hint of rancor or disdain. "Mac said we'd meet tonight. And you must be Ron."
"Pleased to meet you." Ron shook her hand and looked at Kim. "She seems a lot ni…"
"Ron!" Kim whispered.
"It's all right." Myna nodded. "Kim, while Ron and Amal stand in line, could we talk? Mac, why don't you stay with your friends? A'lia, you can come with us if you'd like."
The suggestions met with everyone's approval, so they went their ways. After a short walk Myna stopped. "Kim we haven't gotten along very well, especially for squad mates."
"Oh, I don't know, back in Middleton Bonnie and I…"
The blond arched an eyebrow. "That was a different kind of rivalry. And you don't have to try to downplay things. Sometimes people just rub each other the wrong way. For my part, I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry, too." Kim said with relief. "I don't think I tried hard enough to smooth things over."
"It's okay." Myna answered. "In the grand scheme of things, a rivalry is just so, so…pointless."
The look on the blonde's face gave both Kim and A'lia pause. After a moment Myna laughed. "I imagine that's the sort of look Mac gets from Ron and Amal. I had a long talk with Mac today. It really helped me get grounded. Those are beautiful dresses, by the way."
"Thanks." A'lia smiled. "I like yours also."
"This? It's off the rack. I was lucky to find something that fit so well. I didn't know that I was going until this afternoon, and Mac was kind enough to offer to buy me a dress."
"Well, you both have good tastes." Kim took the chance to compliment Myna.
"That's very kind of you." The rival-no-longer gave her a long look. "We may never be the best of friends, but I would like to start over."
"So would I." Kim beamed.
Relief flooded Myna's face. "I'm glad you see things that way. When you look at it from the proper perspective, the price of enmity is just too high."
WTOS
"Ah, Dr. Crane, it is so nice of you to volunteer your time like this, especially when you're on vacation."
"It's my pleasure, Dr. Gilchrist." The distinguished psychiatrist nodded. "After dealing with so much latte-fueled ennui, it's good to get your hands on some good, old-fashioned mental illness."
"What did you think about the patient?"
"Mr. Holder? I think you're right on the mark, although it may be advisable to add a prescription of anti-anxiety medication along with the antidepressant."
"I was wondering about that, it seemed best to not taint your thoughts before you met with the patient."
"That's the problem with being a psychiatrist, you're always thinking too much." Dr. Crane joked. "What we have here is a model existential crisis. For someone like our young man it's a bit hard to find out that you aren't the center of the universe."
Dr. Gilchrist nodded. "He did take that realization badly. Wrapping himself up in a sheet, wondering out into traffic, quoting Ecclesiastes. At least he didn't try to compensate with delusions he was someone else: we have three Theodore Roosevelts already! We are all out of Napoleons, though.
"It's been a bad semester. Just last week we put four Miskatonic girls in Arkham."
"Arkham!" Well seasoned as he was, Dr, Crane could not keep the shock out of his voice.
"It was only temporary, until we could find suitable accommodations at other institutions." The doctor shook his head. "But it was clearly necessary. Each girl went to a different store looking to buy a gun. All of them said the same thing: the other three were out to kill her!"
"Miskatonic has always been a bit of a pressure cooker, but there has to be more to this than I've heard so far."
"Oh, indeed. When we brought them in, separately of course, they told us the reason. It was rivalry over a man."
"A man?" The Seattle radio personality gave him colleague a doubtful glance.
"A man they made themselves, out of parts harvested from the recently deceased! It was an amazing group delusion; each telling the exact same story. The only thing they didn't agree on was the identity of the boy who was supposed to provide the heart for their dream man."
"You actually followed up on their story?" Dr. Crane was incredulous.
"They all come from very wealthy and prominent families; of course we had to look into it. A fifth young woman was implicated in the story, a Roberta West."
"Name sounds familiar." Dr. Crane shook his head. "But I can't quite place it."
"Anyway, she denied any knowledge of such a crazy scheme. Naturally there was no need to ask her about the boy. So we left her and her companion alone. Magnificent young man. My guess is that the stresses of college life combined with jealousy of their friend's swain to evolve into a group psychosis."
"An interesting theory…or plot device." They shared a laugh. "Dr Gilchrist, it seems that the Ivy League has lost none of its charm."
WTOS
It took a few minutes for the boys to go through the line. During that time Kim, Myna and A'lia talked. Kim found that she had more in common with Myna than she would have thought possible. Soon they were laughing easily together. As for A'lia, she proved a sharp observer who could put her observations into pithy statements. The chance for friendships beyond the Honeys greatly appealed to Kim.
"Miss us?" Ron asked as he gave Kim her drink.
"A little." She replied with a sly smile.
"I bet they had a most pleasant conversation." Amal said. "The men around us kept asking Ron about the coming game."
"It will be a good one." Ron asserted with a bit of defiance.
"You can be certain they had a more interesting conversation." Mac nodded at the women. "After all, consider their most likely topic. Males tend to discuss sports or politics while the female of the species are obsessed with…"
"A little more analysis and this female might develop other interests." Myna teased.
It seemed like Mac gave himself a sharp look. He took a deep breath before answering. "Of course, enough shop talk for the evening. If you spend your life in analysis, it will pass you bay."
"Perhaps run you over," A'lia quipped. Everyone laughed.
"Okay everybody, finish up your drinks." Kim nodded toward the stage. "The band's setting back up."
WTOS
Elsewhere in the building another band readied for its second set. Between floors a crawl space glowed with polished paneling. White Christmas lights twinkled against black velvet overhead. It would all return to its storage in the morning; safe from prying human eyes. Miskatonic's other Fall Formal was underway.
Mice, rats, shrews, gerbils, hamsters and a smattering of more exotic rodents nibbled on cheeses and nuts. They chattered and squeaked about events around the University. Size considerations precluded some, but not all, non-rodents, who threw dances of their own. But a few could not resist the chance to party in Faunce. A pair of ferrets was about and in one corner a Russian Sable cut an exotic figure.
She joined in the laughter as Rufus completed his tale of an around-the-world chase involving a certain jet-setting feline. The sharp dressed naked mole rat basked in the attention.
Heads turned when a rat raced up to the group. Contact lens connected by gold wire made or an impressive set of spectacles. Behind the blue tinted plastic, he locked beady eyes with Rufus.
"Squeak! Electrical?"
"Hink! Uh-huh, uh-huh."
The rat immediately turned and raced off. Rufus and Daisy followed him up a series of shafts and pipes to reach the roof. There a group of animals clustered around something that could only be called a contraption. One side was removed, its internal working defying the analytical powers of rats reared in the digital age. While the Observatory's owl had immediately divined the machine's astronomical nature, she was also mystified by the hardware. Beside her a beaver and otter bore the bemused look of experts summoned to look at something utterly beyond their ken. They all stood aside for the new arrivals.
"Squeak! Whose?" Daisy asked.
"Erich and the Zann." The rat with spectacles answered.
"Hink! Their IT?" Rufus looked around.
The owl furrowed her feathered brow. "Lizard."
Everyone shook their heads, and not out of any prejudice against the cold-blooded. Who in their right mind would put a reptile in charge of outdoor equipment on a fall night in New England?
That mystery paled when set beside the machine's interior. Glass tubes, convoluted wiring, gears and cogs, all confounded them. Rufus had a bad moment himself, glancing worriedly at Daisy. She gave him an encouraging nod. Sucking in a deep breath, he looked again and saw something that put his mind at ease. He could not read German, but he could make out the name of Demenz easily enough on a glass plate on the machine's wall. Maybe the rats knew the latest super-science, but mad science was his bailiwick. He barked out orders.
WTOS
Downstairs on the human dance floor couples swayed in each other's arms. In one corner a blond boy looked into the glowing green eyes of the most beautiful girl to ever have mastered sixteen kinds of kung-fu, saved a space mission, baby sat a world-saving ninja toddler, well, you know.
"Having a good time, KP?"
"The best." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad I ditched the overseas idea. Even an hour or so is too far away. I miss seeing, touching…" she inhaled, "even smelling you. Most of the time on that last one. Great cologne, by the way. New?"
"Yeah, Mac gave it to me. I wouldn't be surprised if he made it himself." He looked into her eyes. "And I know how you feel. It's the worst part of Camp Wannaweep all over again. You know, we don't have to live on campus next year. There are lots of places between Cambridge and Arkham and the transit system is great…"
She cocked an eyebrow "Unless you've developed some extreme anti-gravity gear, I know you didn't just suggest that we move in together."
"Separate rooms in a suite wouldn't be moving in together. Okay, maybe that's too close, but we could rent apartments in the same complex." His voice dropped a bit. "I'm not trying to pressure you, KP."
"You're not. But who would've thought that you would be doing the thinking and planning. And speaking of plans…"
"Oh no, KP no spoilers."
"Not a spoiler, just a heads up."
"This isn't a mission. There is no need-to-know here." Ron smiled. "Hey, I sounded just like Special Agent Smith, or was it Special Agent Smith?"
"Just a hint?" Her bottom lip came out. "Pweeze?"
"No, not the puppy dog pout." Ron moaned.
"Just a widdle one? You know how much I love a mystery."
"You've got one." Ron protested feebly.
"There's no mystery without clues." The lip quivered now.
Sweat beaded on Ron's forehead. The PDP was reaching its point of irresistible force. If he did not act now, all was lost. He acted.
Kim's eyes bulged when his lips met hers. He pulled her to him with all the urgency and passion he could (publicly) muster. Her eyes closed. Her knees buckled. When she opened her eyes she could only sigh.
"Wow! Got any more of those?"
"Plenty Just wait until we…"
Kim gave him a light, playful kick to the shin. "Remember, secrets."
Onstage Erich watched them through heavy-lidded eyes. When Kim's legs gave way he half wondered if she had understood the Old German couplet in the last stanza. No, her eyes shown with love not fear. Beating down his own apprehension he nodded to the band.
Kim and Ron stepped back from each other on the first beat. They clasped hands at face level. On the next beat Ron let go of her left hand and they turned outward. On the next beat they joined hands again, then they turned inward on the following. Everyone's on the same page, what gives? Well, it is simple, and he's probably planted some dancers in the crowd for us to follow. I've got all kinds of training to pick up a routine. And Ron's ninjitsu would help him here. Just go with it.
Their bodies responded to the sinuous notes from the band and the wordless keening of the singer. Sometimes they danced hand in hand, at other times apart. The music shifted tempo. Kim and Ron turned to face the nearest couple. Amal and A'lia joined them in a series of movements that seemed to come as naturally as breathing. Then came a new permutation in the piece. Now Mac and Myna were a part of the circle that sometimes moved on its own and at others twirled with other circles.
This was Erich and the Zann's signature piece, the key to their rise on the European dance club scene. To its hordes of admirers it was the new Bacchanal. The few detractors labeled it a morris dance. (Erich's favorite review was Dieter's: to be likened to the great Fish Dance!) No one could really describe it, in part because no footage of it existed. The band allowed no stationary cameras, and all efforts to film it with hand held units failed when the need to dance overwhelmed their operators.
The young German smiled to himself. For Generations the music had burdened his ancestors with madness and worse. Great-grandfather had worked it into experimental classical music, losing everything when the National Socialists shut down all modern art forms. Grandfather and father had turned to jazz, but stir clung to the fringe elements. He was the one to realize the potential of rock and roll. Unlike his ancestors, much of his haggard look was for show.
Still, even with the crowd's psychic energy things could go disastrously wrong. He watched the dance's evolutions, waiting for just the right moment to push the button on the floor that would draw the pent-up power from the room and up to the device on the roof. That work of another genius would send the music to the place astronomers called the Maelstrom, where the comets were born. To those that lay within that chaotic place, the clamorous chords were a lullaby.
WTOS
On the roof the animals raced about in a maelstrom of their own. They brought box after box of electrical equipment and office supplies to the opening of the weird machine. Rufus shook his head in frustration after examining the last shipment. He had asked for rubber bands and paper clips for a reason.
A shadow landed in front of him. The Literature department's raven clutched a bag of the former and a box of the latter. "Even more?" it cawed.
"Hink! We're good." Rufus dove into the box and bag and emerged with the final pieces to the puzzle. Arms laden, he stepped back into the machine. Inside Daisy and the bespectacled rat, Rupert, waited expectantly. Under his direction they had affected repairs using parts scavenged from pens, a transistor radio, flash bulbs, (a real find) and other odds and ends. They replaced parts weakened by age, worn by wear and finally destroyed by their first transatlantic flight. Proper, lasting repairs would be the work of the lizard and the band's roadies; this was strictly a temporary fix.
Once they had twisted the last paper clip into shape and attached the rubber bands they scrambled out. The others waited for them, their tension growing by the moment. Something they had never felt before stirred the night air: something impossibly old, unspeakably alien. All hope rested with restoring the device before its owner sought to use it.
WTOS
The music had changed yet again. Circles broke into couples once more. No choreography guided them now, just the desire, the need, to dance. Kim and Ron moved around each other in a manner reflecting all the attraction and fascination of love. Monique had definitely designed for the occasion; Kim's dress moved with her as confidently as the battle suit, without the potential of shorting out. She gave no thought to the low cut, the tight fit. Instead of making her feel self-conscious, it made her gloriously aware of her femininity. In her first outing Monique had achieved the designer's Holy Grail.
Something else helped Kim reach her heady state. Across from her danced a young man who had somehow grown more handsome since he had picked her up just a few hours before. The chocolate brown eyes drew her in; windows to a soul that called to hers. It was what was inside that had first drawn her to him, now she had to admit the outside was every bit as compelling. She moved about him in wild abandon, hoping he caught the hint. From the look in his eyes he did.
Her Ron was indeed showing his potential. He might sound unenthused with class assignments when they spoke on the phone, but he had yet to sound lost. Nor had Kim caught the unmistakable tone of Ron blowing something off. She had even found a couple of blogs from Miskatonic professors who taught him. Neither mentioned any names but she knew a Ronnism when she saw one, though having them used as evidence of insight was a delightful change of pace.
"Isn't he perfect?" she had asked her when Eric had deftly avoided the Tweb's rockets. Indeed Eric had been perfect, like any made to order item should have been. He had definitely left her heart perfectly broken.
Ron was not perfect, about as far as one could be in some respects. Perfection doesn't grow. It doesn't change. How happy would I have been with Eric if he had been real? I'm not the same person I was junior year. Neither is Ron. I think we're both better. Forget perfection. Here's to growth. Here's to change. Here's to what comes next.
Beautiful girls were all around them but Kim felt no jealousy or unease. Ron's eyes were on her and her alone. Not even a familiar blond beauty dancing with serpentine (so the right word for her) grace could spoil her mood. Marie LaTreau danced with her impossibly handsome date. The bayou siren looked over at Kim and Ron. Her expression made Kim's day: utter consternation.
Erich looked over the dance floor. Every emotion was in play, fueling the music. Someone out there even sensed they were under the music's influence, and his or her resistance only increased his power. No one would resist if they knew what was at stake. Everything was at its peak: it was time. He stopped prowling the stage. His keening rose, hitting incredible octaves. A flip exposed the button on the floor. The band went into its final notes. On the crescendo Erich brought his foot down.
WTOS
The last screws went back into place and the contraption was fully restored. A group of animals exhaled in relief. They eyed their handiwork, and saw their mistake.
A half yard away lay the machine's cord. Rupert had both disconnected the plug and turned off the trip switch from the converter strip that enabled the machine to safely draw power from electrical systems of another time and place. Even now the man below might be trying to activate it. Prudence might yet snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.
Rufus responded with all the speed of a professional. Scooping up the plug, he brought it overhead and slammed it down into the socket. Step one down, but with the trip switch thrown it would be for naught. Everyone could feel the power coming up. The naked mole rat turned, even though he knew there was no way he could beat the speed of lightning.
Someone sailed past him. Daisy punched the switch, aided by the momentum provided by the swat of the beaver's broad tail. Every hair and feather stood on end when the machine sparkled and glowed before emitting a narrow beam of invisible (to humans) light into the night sky.
People leaving Faunce looked up, puzzled by the faint sounds of squeaks; caws and hoots that they could have sworn were coming from the roof.