Still, Daibak was trying to make the best of the situation, reassuring the nervous or impatient guests that they shouldn’t have long to wait. Most of these flare events had been harmless, and they only seemed to strike each system once, so as soon as the current one was over, it would not come again. And they might get a marvelous fireworks display out of it if the flares came close enough.

So it was that Daibak was hosting a stargazing party on the roof of the hotel. Midoren was one of the younger, smaller cities in the interior of Denobula’s single vast continent, on the fringes of the enormous desert at its heart, so it suffered less from light pollution than the vast, never-sleeping capital of Gronim City. At this time of year, when the distant but bright companion star of Denobula’s sun was absent from the nighttime sky, you could get a fine view of the galaxy at night when the weather was clear (as it usually was this far into the interior). Right now it was only a couple of hours past dusk, not yet prime stargazing time, but Denobulan nights were long, so there was plenty of time. Daibak was happy to keep the party going for as long as it took.

“Hey.” Daibak tapped Orat, the young concierge, on the shoulder as he passed by. “They collide without making a sound, and never break no matter how often they collide. What are they?”

Orat sighed. “You already did that one. It’s your eyelids.”

“Oh. Really? Oh, well.” He thought for a moment. “They always look down when moving forward—”

“Your nostrils.”

Daibak sighed. “It’s this lockdown. No new guests, no new inspiration.”

“Or you just ran out of body parts.”

“Not all my riddles are about body parts.”

“But too few are about the interesting ones.”

Daibak scowled at Orat’s sly grin. “Oh, go refill the ice buckets.”

A minor outcry from the other side of the rooftop caught his attention. It was the Kanums, a monogamous Antaran couple on their honeymoon, pointing out to the sky above the desert that stretched beyond the city edge. Following their gestures, Daibak spotted an effervescent flicker of light over the horizon. He followed the other guests as they congregated around the Kanums to ooh and aah at the sight. Even Daibak, who had seen plenty in his life despite not traveling far from home, was impressed by how close and vivid the flickers appeared for something far out in space.

But as successive clusters of flashing pinpoints came and went, as the phenomenon rose higher in the night sky, the flickers seemed to draw even closer, growing more painfully bright. Daibak imagined he could almost hear a distant rumbling, as if they were a thunderstorm over the horizon. It had to be his imagination, surely. Even a lifelong planet-lubber like him knew that sound didn’t travel through space.