Thrax

 Agena did not expect her prospective suitor to object to her disinterest in a transmitted courtship.  The Knights and the Corps frowned on such a thing as unseemly, unbecoming of their position and rank.  For that, Agena was grateful.

The Lottery Master intoned, “Let the selection interface appear!”

From a nook on the floor of the platform, a metallic stalk appeared and rose into view until the broad tip of it, which held an electronic control surface, was just a little higher than the midsection of an average human.  This was the device by which each aspirant, in turn, would identify himself or herself to the Lottery computer, which would then access its memory and select the Knight or Corps member with whom that person would be paired.

 What the process lacked in romance, it made up for in technical efficiency.  Romance would come later, assuming the rapport between both members of the couple was right.  If not romance, then at least lots of very purposeful copulating.

A holographic display twinkled into view before the Lottery Master.  Agena knew this was the list of all the aspirants in the Lottery, arranged in random order so that no one—not even the audience, many of whom had aspirant lists that they kept as scorecards—knew whose name would be called when.  It was more suspenseful that way.  The Master called out, “The first aspirant will now take the platform.”  And after a moment of dramatic hush, the old weredragon announced the first name. 

Another raucous cheer exploded from the stands as a woman of about Agena’s age leaped up from a seat in front of her and ran down the steps on one side of the box.  She quickly made her way across the grass to another stairway at the base of the platform, then up to where the interface waited.  It was all a grand ritual, and one in which Agena would have to wait her turn.

Agena watched as one of her fellow aspirants after another was called and made the trip down to the playing field and up to the platform.  In turn, each one laid a hand on the glowing surface of the device on the stalk.  The computers identified each participant in the Lottery by his or her handprint, then the results of the selection were relayed to the Master on another hologram. 

One by one, each suitor or suitress walked across the bridge from stage to platform when called, and every walk bore its own cacophonous din of shouts and applause.  The paired couples then left the platform, on foot or by wing at their own discretion, and walked or flew out of the Stadium to begin courtship.  With every successive pairing, Agena’s heart beat a little faster, then slowed down for the next, then sped up again.  Her mouth went dry with anticipation, waiting for her turn.

The Lottery Master read the next name from his list: “Agena Morrow!”

And perhaps it was only her imagination, but the deafening whoop that greeted her name seemed a little louder than those for the ones who had gone before her.  She was the only celebrity participant in the Lottery so far.  To be sure, many of those in the stands knew who she was and had been waiting for her name to be called almost as anxiously as she had been.  She could imagine that she had some fans in the Lottery audience today. 

As heads in the selection box turned in her direction and the hovering recorder drones zeroed in on her, strobing and flashing, Agena put on her best smiling celebrity face and stood, waving to the crowd as was expected of her.  And through the flashing of the drones, she saw a great many people in the roaring throng waving back.  Brushing all this off, she made her way down to the field and up to the platform with the same speed as the others, or perhaps a little bit faster.

When she reached the platform, it was definitely not her imagination that there was no hush of expectation.  The ear-splitting whoop of the crowd dwindled to a strong and steady murmur but did not fade altogether.  Yes, she had fans here, all right, and they were most keenly interested in knowing which weredragon would now be mated with their favorite Sphereball player.

Agena laid her hand on the brightly lit surface of the selection interface and held her breath.  The light pulsed under the palm of her hand.  She held her breath.  Except for the murmur all around her, it seemed as if everything on Lacerta were standing still.  And then the Master’s voice rang out:

“Sir Thrax Helmer!”

On the stage, Thrax’s company had grown sparse.  The sound of his name being called hit him like a lightning bolt.  The four Lacertans who still shared the stage with him nodded and bowed their respects as if sending him off into battle.  A couple of them clapped him on the shoulders.  Thrax numbly acknowledged them.  Then he turned and looked across the bridge, facing his fate.

The cheers of the crowd moved through him like breaking waves of sound as he made the fateful walk across the structure separating him only for the moment from the woman whom an impersonal computer had chosen to be his immediate, if not long-term, future.  He strode past where the Master hovered and on across the way until he at last reached the platform, where the tall and—he had to admit at first glance—athletic and beautiful human female awaited him with a quiet smile. 

A Knight and a gentleman to the last, Thrax Helmer held out his gauntleted hand to Agena Morrow.  She stepped from behind the interface and took the hand he offered.  With the uproar of the crowd seeming to make cliffs of noise all around them, Thrax and Agena met each other’s eyes for the first time.  In each other, they saw beauty, strength, and possibilities.  The hours and days to come would tell exactly what those possibilities might be.