Friday Flash: Good News Or Bad?

Sonneteer's note: this is the eighth installment of my sonnet-by-sonnet summary of a larger work, The Interstellar Feller, to be released sometime next year. To see the story so far, check out Part the Oneth here, Part the Twoth here, Part the Threeth here, part the Fourth here, Part the Fiveth here, Part the Sexieth here and Part the Seventhuth here.

Pepito stands by, puzzled, bald and mute -

His portrait made him notice he's no hair -

While 'round him gathers cacogens, acute

Embarrassment just hanging in the air

As Queen Yectara takes it in the brain

From someone she respects as overlord,

Her face a mask of -- pleasure? or of pain?

It's hard to tell -- while ev'ryone aboard

Waits breathlessly. At last she gives a yelp

And looks like she'll collapse into a faint

Pepito tries to rush to offer help

But agile yet in zero-gee he ain't.

He overshoots and slams 'gainst a bulkhead.

Yectara floats unconscious - maybe dead.