"Mr.Anghanamis, please report to costuming," a voice boomed over the loudspeaker. The head make up artist paused to flick it off before returning to Apollo's make up.

"Why do they insist on interrupting everything with that horrible thing?" Apollo sighed as he gazed at himself in the mirror. "Damn, I'm good looking. A little lighter on the black there, René."

"This is the design they gave me," René told him and continued painting while motioning to one of the women to hand her another color. "If you have a problem, take it up with Mr.Goldstein. He gives me the designs, I just paint them."

Apollo sighed but didn't dare move. He couldn't, because his hair was being combed and gelled, but even then René was the best make up artist his modeling agency had, but she was not by far the nicest. If she hit him now, she'd screw up his look. "He doesn't know how to make me as good looking as possible."

"People pay to look half as good as you do," René reminded him. "You should be thankful."

"It's their own faults they're not incredibly good looking," Apollo scoffed.

René's only response was a sigh and to keep working. Apollo practiced his newest look in the mirror. "What do you think of this one, René?" he asked.

"I think it's screwing up your make up," René told him, cuffing his ear sharply. "Hold still!"

"Well you don't have to be mean about it," Apollo told her.

There was a knock on the door and René, cursing loudly about people interrupting, stormed over to open up. "Can't you see I'm working here?" she thundered.

"Yes, but Mr.Anghanamis is late for costuming! The designer wants to see if it works with the alterations! The show is in less than an hour!" Greg, who acted as a go between for all the different departments, told her frantically. "You've had him for an hour now!"

"Well Goldstein gave me a very complicated design, and it takes time to make it work!" René barked. "I'll send him down when he's ready!"

Fifteen minutes later, Apollo was being marched down the hall, now bustling with all sorts of people making last minute preparations. "Will these alterations make me look better?" Apollo wondered as he followed Greg.

"Only if you get into it on time," the man replied angrily. "Ms.Semanati does not like to be kept waiting! She's going to give me crap about this, even though it's René's fault."

Ms.Semanti was definetly not happy with either of them. "When I get my hands on that little bitch," the woman raged but managed to keep from strangling either of them. "Here," she handed the costume to Apollo. "Put it on! Quickly! There's only thirty minutes left and you're not even dressed! I could just, agh!" she screamed and started storming down the hall to the make up studios.

"What's with her?" Apollo wondered, looking after her and then turning to the costume. "You know Greg, I don't think this is going to make me any more good looking."

"Well, humor us and wear it anyway," Greg growled. "There's nothing else."

A small army of women helped him into his costume, making sure no harm came to his makeup as he was sown in. Five minutes later, he stood in front of the three full length mirrors admiring himself. "I am so incredibly good looking," he sighed to himself and then practiced his look.

Ms. Semanti had reappeared, looking as though she and René had fought but much happier. "Yes, it is much better this way," she announced. The sounds of the hundreds of spectators and the music came from the runway, making the already unbearable tension backstage rise.

"All these people," Apollo chuckled, completely ignoring the designer, "here just to admire how good looking I am."

The music got louder and the lights came up. Apollo practiced his look once more, strutted up to the doorway, and stepped out onto the runway and struck his beginning pose to the cheers of the crowd.

He strutted a few steps, allowing the leather cloak to drop from where it was loosely draped over his shoulders and then continued with the routine he'd been taught, launching himself into an arial, which brought more cheers. But his feet never touched the runway.

To the people watching, he simply vanished. One moment he was landing, the next he wasn't there. The music stopped abruptly and the entire room buzzed with questions. Security guards drew their guns and, pushing their way through the crowd, lept onto the runway and began examining it. "What the hell is going on here?" Mr.Goldstein demanded. "Where'd he go?"

"We're trying to figure that out, sir," one of the security guards told him. "We're doing our best."

"Look pal, when Apollo Anghanamis is missing, you don't just do your best, you find him!" he growled.

Unfortunately for them, the security guards had no chance of finding Apollo. No one on Earth did. He had, somehow, launched himself through time and space and was looking up at two of the grubbiest men he'd ever seen.

"You," he observed, wrinkling his nose at the stench, "are in serious need of a shower. No, forget that, a long soak in a jacuzzi."

"In a what?" one of the men growled, speaking English with a heavy accent Apollo couldn't place.

"You've never heard of a Jacuzzi?" Apollo gaped. "They are only the most relaxing things on Earth!"

"On where?" the other asked.

"Wait a minute, where am I?" Apollo wondered suddenly. He was lying on a bed, though it wasn't a very comfortable one, with animal furs for sheets and blankets. The walls of the room were stone and the whole place stank horribly. "Greg! This is not part of the show!" he wailed.

"You musta gotten knocked pretty good on the head," the first man chuckled. "You're on Pern, ya dimglow! Where else would ya be?"

"Pern?" Apollo asked with a confused frown. "Is that somewhere in Australia?"

"He must be one of those off worlders those Ryslen dragons are always bringing in," the second man decided. "Musta fallen or something. We'd better take him back there, Tiyanni's probably wondering where he is."

The first man thought for a moment and then nodded. "Must be. Who else would look like this?"

"Oh no!" Apollo suddenly thought of his make up. "Give me a mirror!"

One of the men handed him a tiny little thing that was horribly dusty. "I will not look as incredibly good looking as I really am if I look at myself in this mirror," he told them.

"Well it's the only one we got," the man growled. "You'll have to make do until we get you back to the Weyr."

"The where?" Apollo asked as he did his best to examine his make up. It was horribly smeared, René would be very mad at him for ruining it. "Do you have a sink here somewhere?"

"A what?" the first man asked. "What in Faranth's name are you talking about?"

Apollo sighed. "Do you have any water here to clean my face?"

The second man peered at it. "It's a little wierd, but I don't see any reason to wash it."

"I haven't had a shower since this morning and you tell me there's no reason to wash it!" Apollo gasped. "I hope this Weyr place you're taking me to has a shower!"

"They have places to wash, if that's what you mean," the first man told him. "Though if you just washed this morning, you should be good for the rest of the sevenday."

Apollo gasped in suprise. "You mean you don't wash twice every day?"

"Why?" the first man asked, sounding very suprised that there was even someone who imagined it.

"Just forget it," Apollo sighed. "Just take me to this Weyr place so that I can have a decent bath! How am I supposed to stay good looking if I can't wash when I need to?"

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