These Boots Aren't Made For Dancing By Gerhard Naudé All Rover Strike names © Gerhard Naudé All Road Rovers names © Warner Brothers and rightful owners Riley © Dylan Rinalds Any question, comments, complaints, feedback or suggestions can be sent to gnaude_@hotmail.com. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Deep under the deserts of the American state of New Mexico there was a large cavern that was easily as big as the airport of one's average city. Clustered in the centre of the cavern were a group of yellow buildings whose shapes were almost identical to that of a fire hydrant. This odd structural design, along with many glass tubes that led from the cavern ceiling to the buildings, gave the appearance of some kind of American amusement park. But underneath the comical appearance there was much, much more to the structures. The buildings formed part of Road Rover Mission Control, the headquarters of the world-famous cano-sapien heroes known as the Road Rovers. All around the headquarters were a number of parks, open fields of grass, ponds and walkways for outdoor relaxation. Giant sun lamps lit the cavern up; making it seem like it was day underground. Each "hydrant" was given over to a specific function such as a briefing room, dining area, recreational areas, gymnasiums, dormitories, libraries, laboratories, workshops and hangars. And they had all the latest necessities, supplies, provisions and utilities to make Mission Control a pretty much self-sufficient little city in its own right. One of the gymnasiums looked like any other, with a variety of exercise machines, benches and weights. Mirrors lined some of the walls while a portion of the floor was given over for aerobics classes. At this time of day the gym was largely empty. The only exceptions were two cano-sapiens, one male and one female, on the aerobics floor who were dancing to some music coming from a CD-player mounted on a bench. The male was Striker, a cocker spaniel canine who had mostly light orange fur with white fur running from between his eyes, covered his muzzle, continued down his neck and chest all the way to his groin. His floppy, fluffy ears reached to his shoulders while his short, fluffy tail reached to just above his knees. He wore a white t-shirt, navy blue pants and black military boots. The female was Colleen, a collie with mostly brown fur and white fur on her face, muzzle, down her neck to between her legs, the lower halves of her arms and legs and the tip of her tail. She wore a red tank top and blue denim jeans with a pair of red and blue sneakers. Striker was the leader of a special Road Rover unit called Unit STRIKE, while Colleen was the second member of the original Road Rovers. Normally Striker would be Colleen's superior, but on this day the role was reversed. Colleen was trying to teach Striker how to ballroom dance. They held each other politely as they danced to the music. Or tried to. Striker was struggling to dance and once again he goes and steps on Colleen's right foot. The collie yelped from the pain. "Jammer, Colleen." Striker apologized, mixing in words from his native Afrikaans language with his English as he often did. "Blimey, guv." Colleen replied in a thick British accent. "I told you not to look down at your feet. That's why you keep missing your steps." "But it's really hard for me to follow the music." The spaniel protested. "Because you are looking at your feet. Keep your eyes on my face, guv." Colleen suggested. "And stop squeezing my paw so tightly. Relax." Striker grunted in frustration, but did as he told. He kept his eyes on Colleen's face and eased the grip on her paw. Barely half a minute later Striker's eyes were wandering back down to his feet while his grip tightened again. His feet missed a beat and, in an attempt to correct, he again stepped on Colleen's foot. "Jammer." Striker apologized again as the collie yelped again. Colleen shook her head and released Striker, immediately stopping the dance. "Okay, quick tea break." She said as she walked over to the radio. She pressed a button and the music came to an abrupt end. Striker went over to a bench where their water bottles and some dancing instructions lay. He immediately sat down and sighed greatly. "I just cannot get it reg." Striker said in frustration. "You must not look at your bloomin' feet, Striker." Colleen said as she came up and sat down on the beach as well. She started to untie her sneakers' laces "It happens every time: when you look at your feet you miss the beat and foul up. You mustn't concentrate on your feet. You must look at your partner and listen to the beat." She took off one sneaker and began to rub her sore feet. "Ai yai yai." Striker said characteristically. He rested his face in his paws. "I'm starting to regret having not used those chances before the massacre." The spaniel referred to his past, where he had once been human and living with a large, well-off human family in South Africa. He had several chances to learn to dance before one of his brothers' wedding, but he hated weddings back then and steadfastly refused them. Then came the incident on that wedding which left almost his entire family dead and him a cano-sapien. It was just another bad memory. "If you're struggling so much, why do you want to dance?" Colleen asked, gently massaging her feet. Striker lifted his head and looked at Colleen. "Because I promised Phoenix. You know we're holding that big gala event here in a week's time and she wants me to dance with her on that day." Phoenix was also a cano-sapien, a female Pomeranian to be precise. She was also Striker's wife and mate. "And if I don't dance with her on that day she will be very disappointed." "Why didn't you just tell her you can't dance, guv?" "Because I do not want to go and hurt her feelings. Make her angry at me." Striker replied, sighing again. "You know, guv." Colleen said with a knowing smile. "You males really underestimate us females a lot of times. I know Phoenix well and she would have forgiven you for not being able to dance. But since you made a promise..." The collie let it hang in the air and shrugged her shoulders. "I know." Striker said with concern. "Are we going to continue?" He asked as Colleen put her sneakers back on and stood up. "I'm afraid that's all for today, guv." Colleen replied, gathering her things and going over to the CD-player. "I have a training class for some new recruits in 15 minutes." "So what am I to do now?" "Practice, Striker." Colleen replied, turning off the CD-player and picking it up. "You got the dance steps with you, so you can go to your quarters and practice dancing there a little. Anyway, cheers Striker." And with that Colleen turned and walked towards the doorway with the glowing letters "EXIT" above it. Striker watched Colleen as she left the gymnasium, leaving the cocker spaniel alone in the large room. He looked at the instructions book, then picked it up and opened. He turned a few pages, glancing at the dance steps. To him, none of the steps he looked at made sense to him. "Ai yai yai." Striker said simply. He then got up, gathered his things and left the gymnasium by the same exit Colleen had gone through a few minutes earlier. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That night Striker was making his way towards the laboratory wing of Road Rover Mission Control. Most of the Rovers, including his mate, were watching a movie in the recreation area, so the corridors were largely empty. But the spaniel knew that the person he was looking for would be at his post. He walked along until he came to a pair of double doors that had the image of a test tube with bubbly fluid on it. He stepped up to the doors and the sensors immediately slid the doors open for him. The laboratory wing of Mission Control was initially just one room that the usual computers, lab tables and equipment and a large wall with cabinets that contained the scents of all known animals on earth. But as the Road Rovers grew in numbers and size, the laboratory expanded to several rooms and workshops where now more than a dozen scientists could work. Professor Hubert, the Bloodhound cano-sapien who was the first scientist of the Road Rovers, was now the chief scientist and supervisor for the others. Tonight however Hubert and most of the other scientists were also in the recreation area. There were only three of four scientists about. Striker made his way to the one scientist he was looking for: a male vulpo-sapien working on the computer systems used in the Road Rovers' vehicles. The fox had the traditional red fur, black ears and paws and white fur on his face down his neck. He wore a white laboratory coat over a blue shirt, brown jeans and black boots. Striker approached the fox and tapped him on the shoulder. "Goeie naand, Riley." The spaniel greeted the fox in Afrikaans. Riley looked away from the computer screen and raised the glasses he wore above his forehead. "Hello there, Striker." The fox greeted him with a smile. "I thought you'd be joining the others in watching the movie." "I'm afraid not. I have a problem and I need your help." Striker shook his head, deciding to get right to the point. "Oh? What kind of problem?" Riley asked, taking off his glasses and turning in his chair to face Striker. "You know about the upcoming gala event, reg?" "Yes, I know. I'm going to be there too." Riley said, nodding. "Goed. I need you to make me a special pair of boots. Could you do it, asseblief?" Striker said, looking hopefully at Riley. "Sure, Striker." Riley replied with some surprise. "What kind of boots?" He thought at first Striker wanted a simple pair of boots, but he dismissed the idea. If he wanted normal boots he could have just gotten one from someone else instead of asking a scientist to make a pair. He could feel the suspicion inside his mind. "I need a pair of boots that can help me dance. Ballroom dancing, specifically." Striker answered. Riley sighed. His suspicions were right and he didn't like the idea almost immediately. "I might do that, but wouldn't it just be easier to go and learn how to dance? There are many people around who could teach you." He wanted to change Striker's mind on the idea, because he didn't like the idea of creating fanciful gadgets that could have unforeseen consequences in the future. Riley had learned that lesson the hard way in the past. Striker shook his head. "Colleen tried to teach me this afternoon, but that did not go well. She also gave me some written instructions, but I cannot understand any of the dance steps. I tried to follow them, but with geen luck." The spaniel recalled his failed attempts at following the dance steps, which almost caused him to fall to the ground several times as he got his legs entangled in one another. Striker knelt down so that he was more or less at eye-level with Riley. He looked pleadingly at the fox. "Asseblief, Riley. I know you have your doubts, but think of it this way: these boots are not weapons or something that can harm anybody. They are just boots with some electronics in. And I need those boots so I can dance at the gala. If I don't dance, Phoenix will be very disappointed or even upset. I wouldn't dare go and make her sad or angry at me. So asseblief, Riley. Help me." Riley stared at Striker, locking eyes while thinking over what the spaniel had said. The boots were not going to be any kind of lethal weapon or something of the sort. Not the kind of inventions that he regretted creating in the past. And all Striker wanted them for was to dance, pure and simple. Finally, Riley just threw his arms into the air and chuckled. "Okay, you win. What size boots do you need?" Riley asked, leaning on the table with one elbow. Striker smiled widely and patted Riley on the knees before standing up. "Size 11. Dankie so much, Riley. I really appreciate your help." "No problem, Striker. I'll work as hard as I can to get them done before the gala." Riley promised. "I will be looking forward to seeing them. Dankie again, Riley." Striker smiled. And with that the spaniel turned around and walked towards the door he had entered previously, his short, fluffy tail wagging happily behind him. Riley watched Striker leave the laboratory, then sighed and shook his head with another chuckle. "The things people do for a loved one." He turned back to the computer to finish up his current work so that he could get started on designing and building the new dancing boots for Striker. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- About a day before the gala event, Striker came back to the laboratory during Riley's shift to pick up the boots. Laying on the table the items did not look much different. The pair of knee-high black leather boots reflected the bright laboratory light off its smooth sides and looked brand new. Next to the boots was a cummerbund in an electric blue color, which Striker happened to like since blue was his favorite color. Riley began to explain how they worked and revealed the hidden technology behind the seemingly ordinary clothing. "Now, Striker. This cummerbund..." Riley picked up the sash and pulled back some of the fabric to reveal a small dial. "... can allow you to adjust the boots' settings to whatever dance you want to perform." "How many dances can it do?" The spaniel asked, looking curiously at the cummerbund. "It can do most of the ballroom dance moves, though I haven't had time to program them all in. But you should be able to dance most of them tomorrow. I'll give you a list of dances that I have already programmed into it." Striker took the cummerbund from Riley and put it around his waist. He could feel the electronic parts beneath the fabric. Once the sash was secure, Striker sat down on a chair, took off his regular combat boots and put on the dancing ones. After he tied up the laces, the spaniel stood up and walked around a little bit to get a feel for the boots. "Very comfortable, Riley." Striker complimented. "Since you're going to be wearing them I thought I might as well make them a good pair." Riley said in a moment of pride in his work. But his face quickly turned serious. "I suppose I should show you how it works." "Asseblief." Striker nodded in reply. Riley walked up and took hold of the cummerbund. He pulled back some of the fabric until he revealed a small dial with a number of markings on it. The fox pointed at it. "This is the control dial. You turn it to whatever dance you want to or are supposed to do." Riley explained. "Right now it is on the off position. Give it a try." Striker reached for the dial while Riley stepped back. He gave the dial a little turn to the left, hearing the clicking noises. The next moment felt a small vibration in the boots and looked down. Suddenly his left foot stepped forward while his right foot moved to the right. The spaniel nearly lost his balance as the boots moved his feet about on the floor, but some arm-failing and some close calls Striker was able to steady himself. He say his feet move gracefully along the floor in a pattern that he recognized as one he had tried to do with Colleen. Striker smiled widely and turned the dial again. The boots came to a halt for a second, then began to follow a new dance pattern. This time the canine was ready and actually moved his arms and body along with his legs and feet. If anybody walked in without knowing about the boots, he or she would think that Striker was a dancing expert. When Striker finally turned the dial back to the off position, he turned to Riley with a big smile on his muzzle. "Baie dankie, Riley! These boots are perfect." He complimented the fox. "You're welcome, Striker." Riley said with a hint of doubt in his voice. Though it would appear that the boots were working properly, the vulpo-sapien knew he had not done enough tests to be 100% certain of it. There simply was not enough time for it. But Striker missed the doubt in Riley's voice and proceeded to take off the boots and the cummerbund. After putting on and tying up his military boots, Striker got up and took the items under his arms. He went up to Riley again. "How long will the batteries last?" He asked Riley. "It is good for about 12 hours continuous use." The fox replied. "There are plugs and ports for use with all rechargers." "Goed." Striker nodded, satisfied. "I owe you a big favor, Riley." And with that Striker turned to the exit, eager to go to his quarters and experiment further with the boots and their controlling belt. Riley watched the spaniel leave, then sighed and shook his head. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For a good part of the night before the gala and a few hours before it, Striker practiced with the dancing boots in their quarters. He quickly learned which setting on the dial activated which ballroom dance step. He kept the dance notes that Colleen gave him close by, checking every now and then to make sure he has the correct moves. But the spaniel learned quickly and on the day of the gala he was dancing around as if he was a master. Striker was extremely pleased, especially since now he would not be disappointing his Phoenix tonight. About an hour or so before the gala event, Striker dressed up for occasion. He put on a tuxedo with dark navy-blue colors and a sky blue tie to match the cummerbund he placed securely around his waist. Finally he put the boots on and then checked himself in the mirror that was against one of his closet doors. His reflection made him smile: nobody would be able to know that he was using the boots and cummerbund to dance. Striker went to the bathroom to comb his fur, brush his furry hair and ears and to add a little bit of aftershave made specifically for cano-sapiens. One he was satisfied he looked good, he left the bathroom and went to close his closet doors as well as put away the dance instructions. He had just finished up when the front door opened. The spaniel turned in time to see Phoenix, his wife and mate, step into the room and close the door behind her. Phoenix was a female Pomeranian cano-sapien who was a tad shorter than Striker. She had orange/red fur all over, brown eyes, long hair that reached halfway down her back and a short, fluffy tail that curled inwards. She wore her usual attire: a white t-shirt, denim jeans and brown boots. She also wore a jacket with this outfit, but the jacket had become soiled in their previous mission and was at the base's Laundromat. "Hello, Firefly." Striker greeted Phoenix with the pet name he gave her. Phoenix smiled and walked over to Striker. The couple embraced and gave each other a little kiss. "Hey there, handsome. You look great in that tuxedo." Phoenix complimented as she looked him over. Striker thought that now might be a good time to try a test run of the dancing boots. He turned the dial to a simple dance step and took hold of Phoenix. Immediately his feet began to move and Striker started to dance with Phoenix. Phoenix yipped in surprise as they began to dance, but that quickly turned into a giggle. "Hey, easy now Strikie." Phoenix said as Striker led her around. She could feel him glide gracefully over the floor as they danced. "Wow. Looks like those lessons with Colleen paid off." "Ja, they certainly did." Striker replied, quickly reaching for the dial and switching it off without his mate known. He felt his feet becoming his own again and stopped, releasing Phoenix. "Very nice, but save it for the gala. We can then see how well you dance." Phoenix said, then winked as she headed for the closet. "Ja, we should." Striker agreed as he sat down on the bed, watching as Phoenix began to dress for the gala event and feeling very confident about himself. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The dining hall of Road Rover Mission Control was located adjacent to the briefing room. It was a large and spacious oblong-shaped chamber with a huge window that looked out at the gardens at one end. A big screen was against the wall opposite the window. The hall is generally used for the meals that the many operatives ate during the day, but it also served for special occasions such as weddings, Christmas, parties and other events. Today it had been converted to host a gala. The dining table had been removed and replaced with dozens of round tables that were laid with plates, glass and large flower decorations. One section had been set aside for the dance floor. Against the walls were long tables where the foods, snacks and desserts were being prepared and placed by the junior operatives who had volunteered to help. The hall was packed to capacity with guests, most of them dressed in their best and finest. Many males wore suits and tuxedos and some even wore formal military uniforms and the parade armors of the Road Rovers. The females' dresses varied more in color and form, but they all looked elegant and eye-catching. Everyone was talking, laughing, eating, dancing and generally having a good time tonight. Amongst the couples on the dance floor were Striker and Phoenix, who now wore a red Indian sari with some glittering jewelry and matching heels. The couple was dancing exceptionally well, gliding gracefully across the floor without missteps. Striker led his wife, who was pleasantly surprised at her husband's dance ability. Some of the nearby dancers and some in the audience also took note of Striker's smooth moves. When the music finally stopped, Phoenix took a moment to catch her breath. "Wow, Strikie." Phoenix exclaimed with a smile. "You're amazing." "Dankie, Firefly." Striker smiled back, while at the same time switching the belt off while nobody is looking. "Shall we do the next dance?" He asked the Pomeranian as the music began playing a new track. "Not at the moment, Dear. Let's take a quick break." Phoenix said, taking Striker's paw. "Very well." Striker agreed. Though he wasn't really dancing, all the moving about had left him a little tired and thirsty. He led his wife towards one of the tables to pour in some punch for them. As they approached the table, Hunter and Colleen came up towards the couple. Hunter, The male golden retriever cano-sapien, was dressed in a black tuxedo with a bone-shaped red bow tie and Colleen wore a glittering blue evening dress. Striker and Phoenix turned to the couple as they approached. "Nice dancing, you two!" Hunter complimented cheerfully. "Thank you, Hunter." Phoenix giggled. "But I think Striker deserves the compliment. He's dancing so well." "I've noticed that." Colleen said approvingly as she turned to Striker. "See what I told you, guv? You just needed to practice and now look. You're dancing like a real professional." "I guess you were reg, Colleen." Striker replied, his eyes looking past Colleen to a familiar face opposite the room. Riley was standing by a group of cano-sapiens, apparently engaged in a chat. However, the fox passed a quick glance now and then in Striker's direction. He was probably making sure about his invention, the spaniel thought. "... about we go get some punch, Strikie?" Phoenix's voice filtered back into his thoughts. Striker blinked, and then snapped back to the present. He shook his head and looked at Phoenix. "Ja, I'm thirsty." He answered as best he could. Phoenix smiled and the couple joined Hunter and Colleen as they began to pour themselves some punch into glasses. They then headed to a table, sat down and began to talk about a wide range of topics and just to enjoy themselves. In all, Striker was having a good time thanks to the dancing boots and he decided that he will take Phoenix dancing again once they had finished their punch. But for Striker disaster was looming not far off. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Merit sat at another table, listening in on the conversation of the cano-sapiens seated around him. Merit was a robot, a utility drone to be precise, with a camera for a head, a box-like body with a hatch and the faded letters "GONV" on it and simple mechanical arms and legs. In fact, Merit was short for M.E.R.I.T. - Mechanical and Electronic Repairs and Interactive Tasks. He was analyzing what the others were saying, occasionally participating with facts and corrections. While his friends were polite and allowed him his say, the truth was that Merit was a confusing conversation partner. This had to do with his robotic nature, since he viewed everyone else as fellow constructs and automatons and treated them as such. By all accounts he was an infant, still learning feelings, emotions and other nuances. Another problem was his difficulty in distinguishing right and wrong, which would often cause a bit of trouble for Unit STRIKE, the Rover unit he was assigned to. Fortunately he was quick learner and after some painstaking explanations and education Merit was beginning to build himself up as a real character instead of just a machine. During a lull in the conversation, Merit decided to turn his attention towards the dance floor. A new musical track had begun playing and some of the couples were coming onto the dance floor. Merit always found music and these organics' reactions to it very fascinating. Apparently if certain sounds are arranged in certain, they can have a positive effect upon their audio receptors. Some would vocalize with these sounds (they called it "singing"), while others would move about in a certain fashion. He saw his unit leader Striker and his partner Phoenix dancing on the floor and decided to focus on them. Just as the couple began to move, Merit noticed that Striker was reaching for something in a piece of sky-blue fabric (which they called a cummerbund), then pulled his paw back. Was this part of the dancing process? He decided to make a scan of the fabric using an x-ray spectrometer. It took Merit less than a second to discover an electronic device located under the fabric. Curious, he thought. None of the other organics had a similar device around him or her. Merit detected a hint of a transmission from the device and started to trace the destination. Immediately he found that the transmission was going towards Striker's boots. Merit did another scan of the boots. Their construction was much different, containing electronic systems that seemed to be transporting Striker's feet automatically. Merit pondered this curiously. None of the other feet coverings of the other dance participants had any kind of electronics inside. And the purpose of such a construction was perplexing. He decided to check through his memory banks for activities that could involve such devices. It took a few seconds of searching before Merit stumbled upon his best match. During training operations there were certain actions that could be carried out to avoid hostile projectiles. Striker had said that quick reaction and quicker foot work were important. Maybe these boots were part of this doctrine, Merit concluded. The robot turned his attention back to Striker and Phoenix and focused intently on their movements. After a few minutes noticed that the boots were not attempting to avoid Phoenix's feet as Merit expected. Perhaps there is an error in its programming. Merit began to send out a transmission signal to the boots and the device in the cummerbund. He assumed that with some proper adjustments the boots would operate correctly in accordance with the original design function. The robot located the central processing units of the devices, and then started to make minute changes to their programming. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Striker was dancing along while smiling at Phoenix when the Pomeranian gave a yip of pain. He stopped smiling when he realized that he had gone and stepped on her foot. "Oops. A bit of a slip there, Strikie?" Phoenix asked him, seemingly accepting it as a little and expected accident. "Ja, a little slip." Striker agreed, but he knew that was not possible. He quickly looked down a saw that the boots were out of step and not following the pattern correctly. The spaniel looked back up at Phoenix, making sure to make and keep eye-contact. Phoenix did not appear to be aware of what was going on, so Striker quickly released her waist and began to spin her in one place. This freed his one paw to quickly go and adjust the belt's setting to a similar dance. When he pulled Phoenix back and resumed dancing with her, Striker could feel his boots were now dancing normally again. He quietly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that it must have been a minor glitch, and continued to enjoy himself with his wife. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Striker changed the settings on the belt, Merit lost the signal he had been sending to it and the boots. The drone was confused as to why this had happened and began to hypothesize a list of possible explanations. Merit had the list ready in a nanosecond and checked their probability rating. He found that, because Striker was still moving and had not talked to him about the programming on his boots, he should probably also do the programmings for each setting Striker changed to. It made sense, Merit calculated, because a methodical schedule reduced the chances of error. Merit sent another transmission to Striker's belt and boots, beginning the programming of the new setting the spaniel had changed to. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another yipe from Phoenix spoiled Striker's fun, for he realized the boots were dancing completely out of pace again. He tried to spin Phoenix again while changing to another setting. Unfortunately, when he did that the boots took several steps back and Striker's paw slipped out of Phoenix's. The spaniel watched in horror as Phoenix spun on her own and nearly collided with another dancing couple. He quickly found the right setting after a bit of fumbling and rushed back to grab Phoenix again. "Striker, are you okay?" Phoenix asked, still looking very surprised. "Ja, ja. I'm fine." Striker lied. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable in his tuxedo. "The dance is more difficult than I thought." "You sure?" Phoenix asked again with a hint of skepticism. "Very sure." Striker replied, but he wasn't sure right now. In fact, when he saw Riley again he could clearly see the concern on the fox's face. Something was definitely wrong and as soon as the dance number was over he would go over to him and ask what is the matter with the boots. Striker tried to make a turn with Phoenix, when suddenly he turned to the opposite direction he had guided Phoenix. The couple broke away, leaving both of them heading into different directions. Phoenix nearly stumbled and fell, while Striker struggled to dig out the dial from amongst the sash's fabrics. By now many of the other dancers and some of the guests were watching with surprise and curiosity at Striker's eccentric movements. "Come on, you bliksum!" Striker swore as he tried to get to the dial. Nearby Merit was still programming away at the boots, but now there was a problem. Striker looked very displeased, and that usually indicated that he was not doing something right. Then Merit discovered that the more he programmed, the more confused the system's files were becoming. The robot was surprised that the code was behaving very differently from what he expected. Merit, in an attempt to try and undo the programming and restore the code, began to rearrange the files as he would with a computer. Unfortunately, Riley has specifically programmed the boots and belt differently from a computer to make its functions possible. Now the messed up devices were going out of control. Striker had found the dial, but now the boots were now moving about randomly on the dance floor. And going faster and faster, to make it worse. The spaniel felt his legs twist and turn in such wild contortions that he struggled to maintain his balance. By now everyone in the dining hall were watching the spectacle on the dance floor. Riley decided it was time to intervene before things got worse. The fox rushed onto the floor and up to Riley. As he tried to grab the belt, Striker looked at him in panic. "Riley! Stop these boots!" He shouted in desperation. "I'm trying! Hold on!" Riley shouted back, grabbing the sash and struggling to keep up with the wildly dancing spaniel. But Merit had also gotten up and approached Striker as well. The hatch in his chest open up, revealing a rotating device that had dozens of probe-mounted tools on it. Merit selected one tool that appeared to look like a miniature tesla coil. A brief spark of electricity surged through it as the robot did a test run. "Perhaps an electrical charge would halt the programs." Merit said, and then he approached Striker and brought the coil towards the belt. "Merit! NO!" Riley shouted out as he saw what Merit was going to do. Too late. Merit lifted the sash's fabric and then touched the probe to the metallic part of the belt. A small surge of electricity jumped from the probe onto the belt. Suddenly, the boots started to make Striker spin in a rapid circle. In desperation Striker tried to grab something and ended up grabbing both Merit and Riley. But neither the fox nor the robot could stop the boots, and all three of them spun along like a fast top. Out of control, the three went spinning towards a table that held many of the snacks, drinks and deserts. The gala attendees quickly jumped out of the way. Striker, Riley and Merit collided with the table, sending stuff flying through the air. A giant punch bowl fell onto Striker, spilling the fruity liquid onto the spaniel. Plates and glasses shattered on the floor. The table snapped in half and collapsed onto itself, discarding what contents had not been knocked off. The belt, enveloped by the punch, threw out a brief sparks shower before it died. As a result, the boots finally stopped. Striker, Riley and Merit lay in the ruins of the dining table, with everyone else staring in shock at the disaster zone before. Phoenix herself was horrified, covering her mouth with both paws. Even the music had stopped playing. Striker, Riley and Merit sat up. Striker still had the punch bowl over him, his tuxedo now a deep purple color from the soaking liquid and stained with the remains of several crushed cakes. Riley was also a mess, with several drinks having spilled on him and several pies sticking to his outfit. Merit was not covered in moisture, but rather in the contents of a salad bowl as well as the table cloth over his head. "Are we experiencing an eclipse?" Merit asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Striker took off the punch bowl, then quickly got up and walked towards the dining hall exit, looking very dejected. Everyone else just stared at the spaniel as he left. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Phoenix ran up behind Striker as he made his way down the corridor that led from the dining hall and grabbed his arm to bring him to a stop. "Striker, what's wrong? What happened there?" Phoenix asked in a concerned tone. "Niks... nothing..." Striker replied, pulling his arm free from Phoenix's grasp. Striker started going back down the corridor, when Phoenix went and stood right in front of him to block his path. "Striker, please. I know it was embarrassing for you, but you got to tell me what is wrong." Phoenix insisted and pleaded at the same time. At that point Merit came running down the corridor, still covered in salad but with the table cloth off now. He stepped right up to the couple and looked at Striker. "It would appear that my programming of your equipment had encountered a bug." Merit said in a tone of voice that indicated he didn't notice Striker's dejected look. "What are you talking about, Merit?" Phoenix asked, confused. Striker, however, wasn't as much as confused as shocked. "You did this, Merit?" He asked the robot. "Correct. I noticed that the evasion systems of your footwear were not working properly, thus I can began to remotely reprogram them and the control unit in the sash so as to correct this error." Merit replied without hesitation. "Though it would appear that my corrections caused other errors." Striker groaned, burying his face in his paws. Phoenix, however, looked more confused and even mouthed the words "control unit" as a question. She reached out to the spaniel's cummerbund and grabbed it. The pomeranian became surprised when she felt something under the fabric. She dug around it and quickly found the dial on the hidden device. The look on Phoenix's face indicated that things had clicked together in her mind. She looked back at Striker, all traces of concern gone from her face. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that you've been using some gadget to dance?" Phoenix asked sternly. Striker lifted his face from his paws, looking very ashamed of himself. "Ja, but I..." He began to say. "You lied to me!" Phoenix growled in anger. "You made me think you were some kind of fancy dancer! And now you've gone and made a fool of yourself in front of everybody! I was so embarressed!" "It fascinated me that..." Merit started to say. "Shut up, Merit!" Phoenix snapped at the robot. Merit immediately stopped talking, though he continued to look back and forth as Phoenix continued to berate Striker. The spaniel hung his head in total shame while his tail curled in between his legs. He didn't even try to open his muzzle to say something. Riley finally came out of the dining hall, still looking like a mess. The vulpo-sapien ran up to the couple and quickled stepped in between Striker and Phoenix, looking towards the furious pomeranian female and holding his paws up. "Phoenix! I can explain!" Riley said, trying to calm her down. "Out of my way, Riley!" Phoenix growled at him. "This is between me and this mongrel!" "Phoenix, I made the boots for him!" Riley tried again. "Oh, so you're just as guilty as he is!" Phoenix growled while poking an angry finger into Riley's chest. "Well, I'm glad you were also part of that spectacle in the dining hall!" "I made the boots for Striker because he can't dance!" Riley tried another tack. Almost immediately the anger on Phoenix's face softened a great deal. It was mostly replaced by one of surprise. "What?" Phoenix asked simply. "A few days ago," Riley began to explain. "Striker came to the lab and asked me to build him a pair of ballroom dancing boots because he was struggling to dance. He tried to learn from Colleen and the dancing instructions she gave him, but he he couldn't get it right. So in desperation he came to me." "But why?" Phoenix asked, her question directed as much at Striker as at Riley. "Because he was scared of not being able to dance with you tonight." Riley answered. "He was afraid you would become upset if he couldn't do it with you. He was not doing this for himself, he was doing it for you." "For me? I thought he was trying to show off." Phoenix replied. By now all traces of anger had disappeared from her face. "Is this true, Striker?" She asked, looking over at Striker. Striker did not answer, but simply nodded his head. "Ja, it's true." The spaniel answered, turning away with his head still looking downwards. Riley stepped aside as Phoenix went up to Striker, moving to stand right in front of him. She took her mate's face in her paws and lifted his head so as to make him look at her. "Why didn't you just tell me you couldn't dance?" Phoenix asked. "Because I didn't want you to be disappointed and unhappy with me." Striker answered after a moment of silence. "You big dummy." Phoenix sighed. "You could have just told me that you couldn't dance." "You mean you wouldn't have been upset?" Striker asked in confusion. "Maybe a little disappointed, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. Understanding is an important part of any marriage so I could understand why you can't dance." Phoenix explained. "I would have even helped you to dance. You didn't have to hide your ineptitude from me or lie to me. Look at what it got you." Striker sighed, feeling both embarressed and ashamed at the same time. "I'm jammer, Phoenix. You were reg: I should have been up front to you about my dancing ability. I should have trusted you more." He looked her in the eyes. "Do you forgive me?" There was an awkward moment of silence, then Phoenix smiled and began to stroke Striker's floppy ears. "Yes, I forgive you." Phoenix said. Striker breathed a sigh of relief, as did Riley. But Striker's sigh quickly became a yelp when Phoenix grabbed his ears and yanked them so that their faces were close to each other. The pomeranian looked sternly at the spaniel. "But if you go and do something silly again like tonight, you'll be sleeping on the carpet. And only after I've boxed your ears. Understand?" Phoenix told Striker in a tone that told him he had better understand. "Ja! I understand!" Striker winced in pain. Phoenix smiled and planted a quick kiss on Striker's lips before releasing his ears. "I love you, Strikie." She said. "I love you too, Firefly." Striker smiled in pain, rubbing his ears. Riley also smiled, clearly happy that the situation has been resolved. Merit just looked back and forth, confused by the behaviour of the couple. "Organics can behave very perculair." The drone finally observed. "You got that right." Riley nodded in agreement. Striker held out his paw to Phoenix. "Should we return to the dance?" He asked her politely. Phoenix, however, was looking Striker up and down with some amusement, examining his fruit salad and punch-covered tuxedo. "First thing you do, Mister..." The female pomeranian told him teasingly while poking his chest with one finger. "... is to go and change out of those clothes. You look nasty." "Goeie idea." Striker agreed, looking himself over. "And I should really get rid of these boots and the cummerbund as well." "Definitely." Phoenix nodded. She then took Striker's paw and guided him down the corridor towards their quarters. Riley followed them, for he wanted to get ahold of the boots and cummerbund and get changed as well. Merit stood there, watching them go and paying close attention to the boots. When the music began playing again in the dining hall, Merit decided to return to his previous position at the table and continue his observations. The robot walked to the dining hall entrance and went inside. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A few weeks, Striker and Phoenix were in the gymnasium. The place was again almost empty, and that is how the couple preferred it. A CD player sat on a bench playing music, while Phoenix showed Striker how to ballroom dance. And unlike the last time, the spaniel was dancing much better now. Despite a slip-up here and there, he had made better progress this time. This was thanks to Phoenix's help and his own determination to get it right to make up for the scene at the gala. Watching the couple through one of the doorways, Riley smiled as he saw how Striker was dancing on his own. He kept observing the two, then politely walked away with a chuckle as Striker tipped Phoenix over and gave her a passionate kiss on the muzzle. And on the lawns just outside the gymansium building Merit was also dancing, wearing the boots and cummerbund he had salvaged from the laboratory. The robot had repaired the electronics in the devices and restored their programs to their original state. Now he was dancing about on his own, studying the movements and the flow of his metal body through the air. "Very interesting." Merit noted before accidentally dancing into a thick bush and falling over. "I say." The robot simply said as he lay there amongst the branches and leaves. THE END