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Avatars. You can either back her up or you can sit inside and pout.”
    Tyvor blinked. “I wasn’t briefed on that.”
    “Raygar-Salass thought you might balk if your fashions were not under your control. It was decided that I would tell you…now.”
    Skiria unclipped her harness and went in search of the wardrobe. Curiosity drove her and there was a whole new world on the other side of that costume. It wasn’t like she was going to have to deal with these folks more than once. She was content to wear whatever it took to get Resicor one step closer to her goal.
    After a few minutes of exploring, she found the hangers with the variety of clothing hanging in a straight line with the first costume being front and centre. The sign above the hanger wore the word Skiria in elegant Resicoran script.
    The clothing was dark purple and had a wide sash. Lora was right; it wasn’t going to be easy to get into it. A small image was hung around the base of the hanger to show her how to fit it. When she tapped the small picture, it projected into a hologram with an image of her current clothing on one side and her dressed image on the other. It was all the help Lora could offer.
    Carrying the imager, the hanger and her dignity, Skiria headed for the change room behind the rack of clothing with her name on it. Based on the image she was seeing projected, this was not going to be a simple clothing change.
     
    It took her nine tries and she was sticky with sweat before she finished a reasonable replica of the initial image. The comparison of her target and current images, front and back, made her confident that she had gotten as close as she could without assistance.
    The dress covered her but outlined everything, and the sandals that she was wearing would never be strong enough for more than a light walk on a sidewalk. No cross-country in this outfit.
    Sighing, she exited the change room to see Tyvor waiting for her in a silver sleeveless bodysuit trimmed in dark purple. The detail and fit on the suit was amazing.
    “My eyes are up here, Ambassador.”
    Blushing, she lifted her gaze from his groin and bit her lip. “Apologies. I am sure that there is something in there that will be just as awkward for me to wear.”
    He shrugged. “This isn’t awkward. This is festival gear for Salass; however, I am aware of what your culture considers appropriate attire, and I am aware that this is a little outside your norms. There is no sense in your surprise to be taken by me as anything other than prurient curiosity.”
    “How about sincere admiration?”
    He grinned. “That I will accept. You look…constrained.”
    With the little breath she could draw, she chuckled. “That is a mild word for it. Come on, I don’t know how much oxygen I can process with this on. Lora, is the Avatar here?”
    “She is waiting on the ridge. There is no escort for her, so you can approach her directly. That will not always be the case, but you are lucky on this first contact. Harlisk is said to be reasonable.”
    That phrase seemed odd to Skiria, but she walked to the door and it opened before she could touch it.
    “Thank you, Lora.”
    “You are welcome. I am plotting the path to the next world as I speak. I promise that there is at least one comfortable outfit in the first five.” The chuckle sounded hollow when the ship extended the plank down to the surface.
    Tyvor came up next to Skiria and smiled. “Ready, Ambassador?”
    She sighed. “Ready.”
    She lifted the hem of the skirt and stepped onto the ramp, heading out onto the alien dunes while the dust and sand swirled around her feet. The suns pounded on her skin, and she could only imagine how uncomfortable Tyvor was. He was used to a damper atmosphere.
    The ridge that Lora had mentioned was half a kilometer away, and a woman in a gold and black gown that matched Skiria’s was standing and waiting for them.
    Skiria walked up the steep path, the sand slipping under her sandals and clawing at the