You are listening to a Clark's World magazine podcast with your host and narrator, Kate Baker. Greetings, Clark's World Citizens. I hope this podcast finds you extraordinarily well.

I hope you can welcome March, roaring in like the lion it is with me.

We have a wonderful slate of stories for you this month.

I want to thank you for your ongoing support. Please visit patreon.com forward slash Clark's world. We're going to rely on you heavily in the next coming year.

There's some big changes happening and we're going to need all the support we can get.

Our story is titled love in the season of new dance and is by Bo Balder.

Bo Balder, who can be found at the website book jbalder.nl lives and works close to Amsterdam.

Bo was the first Dutch author to open published an FNSF Clark's world analog in other places.

Her SF novel, the one was published by Pink Narcissus Press when not writing she nets reads and gardens preferably all three at the same time.

Bo is no stranger here to Clark's world. We have the Pirates Consigliator hatchling the answer was snails the force exerted on the mass of a body and quantum fish.

So my dear listener, I hope you can sit back relax and let me tell you a story.

According to orbital observations, the aliens would rise from their hibernation caves today.

The three moons weren't in position yet.

Lena dialed a cup of coffee, checked her instruments and settled down with her knitting, observing the amphoms once per 79 years mating ritual sounded like the front lines of science.

But in truth, it was years of prep for a couple of weeks of frenzied observation after which the surviving aliens would return to hibernation and the math would begin.

The analysis of their rituals would continue until the next mating season. She'd be over 100 then, no longer an active scientist.

Although that stage of her life might end even sooner, she didn't have the high hopes of getting tenure and moving to a new postdoc, a new location every few years was getting old.

She sighed. Her wool gathering had produced a whole slew of knitting mistakes.

Damn it. Now she'd have to unpick her work and fix them.

She was so deep in somber thoughts that she almost missed the buzz from her instruments.

A temperature spike, something was happening.

But wait, why was it so tiny and so localized?

...