Free The Clones of Mawcett by Thomas DePrima Page B

but they wear a wig. Would you prefer to wear a wig, My Lady? They're rather hot, heavy, and uncomfortable compared to this headdress, but we brought one along.  It's in the shuttle.”
Jenetta sighed silently, knowing that she must acquiesce to the customs of this planet. “No, a hot wig would not be preferable to a light headdress.”
When the three women had finished costuming Jenetta, they repacked the suitcases and organized the room. Standing in front of her, Tkusa said, “We can leave whenever you're ready, My Lady.”
Jenetta turned and walked towards the door, with the three women following in single file, as befit their station and ranks. As the door to the corridor opened, the Marine sentry did a double take.
“Commander?” he said, his eyes wide as he stared at her clothing.
“Yes, and no cracks about what I'm wearing, Dubeski.”
“No ma'am. Uh, can I help you, uh— walk, or anything?”
“No, thank you,” she said with a scowl. “We're leaving for the planet now.”
“Aye, Commander.”
Jenetta walked slowly down the corridor and past the sentry at the end of the corridor, the opacity of the headdress fabric hiding the fact that her hair didn't extend down her back. As she moved, the light cloth wafted behind her, just two centimeters off the deck.  The three handmaidens and the Space Marine, following close behind, were careful not to step on the undulating material. Progress was painfully slow, owing to the restrictive nature of the gown and extremely high heels but they finally made it to a lift that would take them to the flight bay deck. With the headdress, Jenetta needed a full seven-foot of clearance, so she had to duck her head slightly to get into the lift. To say that she drew stares would be the grossest of understatements. She left a wake of staring, open-mouthed crew along her path.
The Nordakian shuttle pilot placed his flattened hand to his chest and bowed his head as Jenetta entered the flight bay. She returned his salute and he extended his hand to help her climb into the shuttle. At two-hundred-fifty centimeters, the shuttle doorway was high enough that she didn't have to duck, but she needed help climbing the steep ramp in the tight gown and towering heels. The three handmaidens had to practically carry her into the shuttle. As she settled into her seat and fastened her seat belt, the three girls fussed with the streaming headdress.  The material was gently lifted around her body and allowed to flow down her front near her left arm.
The uneventful flight down to the surface of Nordakia took thirty minutes, and the small craft settled onto a shuttle pad within the grounds of an expansive palace complex that had served Nordakian monarchs for millennia. Just to get Jenetta up from the shuttle seat and standing erect on the unfamiliar heels took two of the three handmaidens.
As she disembarked, Jenetta was overwhelmed by the incredible beauty and magnificence of the palace. Decorative patios with fountains, aviaries, and small garden areas could be found at every level of the vast, six-story pyramidal shaped structure that completely surrounded a four-hectare central garden. Large Greek-style columns supported numerous elaborate roofs with hanging greenery, while unembellished cantilevered roofs seemed frozen in space and time. Still others were supported by highly crafted architectural masterpieces in the shape of Roman arches. The mixture of architectural styles had been blended perfectly, and overall worked well together. Stone, most often marble because of its durability and rich lustrous surface when polished, has been the choice for government buildings for millennia. Nordakian architects had used it almost to excess when building the palace. It was difficult to identify a surface made of anything else.
The minister that had led the Nordakian delegation to the Prometheus was waiting near the edge of the landing pad to greet Jenetta.
“Welcome, My Lady,” Minister Gkibuke said