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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Fellow Triond author Jason Ward had begun a serial novel called *The Dark Realm*, based partly on my own fictional universe (*A Ring of Stars*). Just for the fun of it (and because he had originally invited me to contribute to another serial that I know much less about), I thought I’d write my own short stories based on his series in return. He has withdrawn *The Dark Realm* since, but I’ve decided to keep up my own derivatives anyway…

= = = = = = =

Melanie Bridgewater was dreaming, and she knew it. The dream seemed to last for days. She never wanted her part of the dream to end, until it took a turn for the worse.

After the Children of the Sky had rescued her and her sisters, a *Gazelle*-class courier had appeared unexpectedly off the bow of her hosts’ Lead Ship. Neither she nor her sister Miranda recognized the exact configuration, but that didn’t matter; and the later news that it was a *Gazelle II* upgrade intrigued Miranda. Melanie could hardly contain her excitement when she learned that the courier was commanded by a Starbard. She became even more excited when she saw the Starbard’s face and heard his voice, thanks to her hosts’ view screen.

It was “love at first sight”, both idealistic and extremely sexual at the same time. That “love” only intensified once she saw him in the flesh. If Chris Alan Starbright, Starbard Level Five, had decided to carry Melanie off to bed after sweeping her off her feet, she wouldn’t have offered the slightest resistance to his advances. She just knew that he’d marry her right after, bearing the shame that Covenant Law would impose on them both and doing his best to protect her reputation thereby. Not even the near-death of bossy Martha at his hands ultimately shook her faith in his essential respect for women.

Later, after he’d proven his moral worth to one and all, Chris Alan’s talent as a Starbard was a revelation to Melanie. Here was a true virtuoso, a singer/songwriter with total respect for the simplicity and holiness of the Music of the Codex, yet able in secular music to push the envelope of what was possible on a nylon-strung lever harp to its very limits. It seemed that no matter what Chris Alan set his hand to do, he did it very well, although he made very clear that there were still some things he was naturally better at doing than others. His honesty, on that and everything else, was the most appealing thing about him. Melanie fantasized about waking up with him, having breakfast with him, learning from him, teaching him, and doing everything in her hormonal, fifteen-year-old power to make his life a romantic and sexual paradise.

That day came to an end in due time, and the Sky Cadets and Melanie’s sisters went to bed. But Melanie couldn’t sleep. Finally, she put on a modest yet alluring blouse and skirt (with attractive sandals to match), and went looking for Chris Alan.

Their hosts’ ship, like the six others linked to it, was truly large, able to support a population of millions. Its self-sustaining hyper-technology, said to have been installed by the Lord of the Realms Himself, could take the raw materials found in space and manufacture additional modular habitats from it. Only the self-gravitation of the ship’s mass limited the ultimate size of the ship; the durin chains linking the seven ships couldn’t be broken by any amount of force whatever. Finding Chris Alan in the Lead Ship would’ve been an impossible task, were it not for the ship’s very helpful computer and the terminal in Melanie’s room.

[So he’s on the topmost observation deck,] Melanie had thought happily before leaving her room. [Maybe he can’t sleep either, because he’s thinking about me. I should be so lucky. If only he knew how totally I could belong to him!]

The night shift personnel were *very* helpful, and soon (though not soon enough by subjective measures) Melanie was stepping through the elevator door onto the observation deck. There was almost no light, save for that given by the soft safety lights that allowed a resident to move about without running into other residents, the deck’s circular tables with their accompanying chairs, or anything else.

“Good evening,” said a cheerful-sounding AI who came up to Melanie. It made no great attempt to imitate humanoid form, although Melanie suspected that its makers could make very “realistic” AI’s indeed. But Miranda knew far more about such things than Melanie did.

“Would you like to sit down?” the AI went on. “Would you like to order food or drink?”

“Not now,” Melanie replied. “I’ve just spotted the one I’m looking for. Maybe we’ll have something later.”

“I await your pleasure,” said the AI, and turned silently on its anti-gravity suspension before moving away.

The observation deck was wide as well as very long, yet Chris Alan seemed to be the only other organic life form present. He was standing by the great window with his hands resting on the window sill and his arms bearing part of his weight. Raphael Goldwing, his awe-inspiring Guardian, was nowhere to be seen, nor was Amethyst Bellatrix his Elemental First Officer.

Melanie’s heart was pounding as she approached Chris Alan. [What in all the Realms will I say to him?] she asked herself. [I have a butterfly in my stomach the size of his courier!]

“Don’t be afraid, Melanie,” said Chris Alan without turning. “I won’t bite. I’ve been known to bark, and even to nibble, but I won’t bite.”

[Oh, Chris Alan,] thought Melanie, [if you only knew how much I’d enjoy your nibbling!]

“I *do* know how much, Melanie Bridgewater.”

Melanie stopped in her tracks. “Did you just read my mind, or was that a lucky guess?”

“Half of each, I think. Like many Starbards, I have the Gift of Prophecy at Need. And so do you, although since you’re not actually a Starbard, it’s largely unexpressed as yet.”

Melanie drew near to the window and looked at Chris Alan for a long moment. He was still dressed in his formal uniform, and he wore his Starbard’s prayer shawl over his shoulders. Melanie still couldn’t believe that an Adami male could be so physically perfect: almost (in the long-dead mythology of the First Realm, about which mythology Melanie knew nothing) like an Elf without the pointed ears. Put another way, Chris Alan was slender without being ectomorphic, which was exactly the kind of body build that Melanie liked the best.

“How can you be what you are, Chris Alan Starbright?”

“What do you think I am, Melanie Bridgewater?”

“Do I need to say it? I’ve never met anyone who has your self-knowledge; it shines in your eyes and in your face, and it rings in your voice. It’s a little frightening, Starbard.”

Chris Alan turned and smiled. “Fair enough; *don’t* say it. You wouldn’t be saying anything that I haven’t heard many, many times before.”

“Do you ever get tired of hearing it?”

“Frankly, sometimes I do – at least from people I’m not married to.”

“*Are* you married?” Melanie asked, bracing herself for disappointment.

“Yes. You know the Service’s policy: husband-wife teams must command Deep Space Ships. Courier ships are no exception to that rule. Amethyst’s status as my First Officer is a special dispensation. Besides, while I’m very fond of Amethyst, she isn’t my type – and in more ways than one, since she’s an Elemental. The former Autumn Harvest Selene, Enoshi of Senka’ur, *is* my type – in every way that counts.”

Melanie began to cry despite herself. She wanted to run, to scream in frustration, to plead with Chris Alan to leave Autumn – *anything* to escape from the emotions that were overwhelming her.

Chris Alan would’ve liked nothing better than to try to comfort Melanie through touch, somehow. Some deep instinct or training or both, stronger than his sexuality, told him that trying would be a mistake. So he watched, and waited.

Finally, Melanie could bear it no more. Hopelessly, she fell into Chris Alan’s arms and sobbed. Chris Alan stroked her long hair, very gently, and let her cry until she was ready to let him go.

“I have to leave this Realm very soon, Melanie.”

“Must you?” It was a question that answered itself, yet Melanie had to ask it.

“Yes. And you know that I couldn’t take you with me in any case, even were I still single.”

“So much for dreams, then.” Melanie sniffed. “Everyone tells me that I dream too much, that I’m unrealistic. I can’t help it, Chris Alan. I want the world to be better than it is – and I wanted *you* to share my part of it.”

“If you wanted an ideal world,” said Chris Alan as gently as his strict sense of justice allowed, “then you and your sisters should never have left the Covenant Sphere. There, all things work for good to those who love the Lord – and even mistakes can be used despite themselves, if necessary, to bring that good about.”

Melanie knew that Chris Alan was right, yet it hurt to hear that fundamental truth. “So where does that leave me and my sisters now?”

“Still able to be used despite yourselves, if necessary – that is, if you’re willing.”

Melanie sniffed again. “This isn’t how I imagined our meeting here would go, Chris Alan.”

“I know, Melanie. How *well* I know!”

“You *know* how I feel about you?”

“Yes. I knew from the moment I saw your face on my view screen. I’ve seen that look many, many times before now, although in your case I was willing to ignore it for a while. That look frightens *me*, Melanie, if it goes on too long. It means that a woman’s putting me on a pedestal long before I’ve earned the right to stand there. Were I still single, it would be all too easy for me to return the favor, if only for a while – *believe* me.”

“Leaving aside my age, no doubt.”

“No doubt.” Despite Melanie’s wishful thinking, in practice fifteen was still several years too young for marriage by the usual norms of Covenant society. But she was precocious in body if not in mind, and Chris Alan recognized that quality in her and held his emotions in check out of respect for it.

“Then you have a real weakness after all – *don’t* you? And Martha spotted it and tried to exploit it.” And *that* had been a horrible scene. When Chris Alan was tested as a warrior by the Children of the Sky, they allowed Martha to participate in the test. Her brutal aim for Chris Alan’s groin was not only nullified by him in seconds, it very nearly got her killed by Chris Alan’s Starblade. Yet Chris Alan had healed her of the injury he’d inflicted hand-to-hand in response immediately. Melanie still didn’t know quite what to think about all that, despite her trust in the Starbard’s good will.

“It’s not the only weakness I have – far from it,” Chris Alan replied. “My greatest weakness – as everybody keeps reminding me – is my natural belief in my own rightness.” He laughed mirthlessly, as he often did when struck by some irony. “But my sexuality isn’t far behind, even as a married man.”

“I suppose your wife’s top-heavy, like Martha.” Martha had tried to use her figure to distract Chris Alan, and had failed.

“As a matter of fact,” said Chris Alan with a smile, “she is: as much as she can comfortably carry, yet not so that I can’t hold her as close as I want.”

“Nice for you,” Melanie had to admit. “Where is she now? I mean in your space-time.”

“Long after your departure from the Covenant Realm, the Deep Space Survey will encounter a species based on the crustacean archetype – even I have some trouble pronouncing its name correctly. Mostly, we’ll call its members Crabs. They’ll show an unreasoning hatred toward all male-dominated sentient species, including our own – *and* the ability to back up their hatred with force. An interstellar ‘cold war’ will begin, with the Sphere and its allies striving to keep the Crabs from spreading throughout the Ring of Stars and eating all other sentient species alive – *literally*. Meanwhile, we’ll be trying to save some females of some species from their own folly in negotiating with the Crabs.”

“What could those females want from such creatures?”

“Genetically engineered parthenogenesis, like that the Crabs themselves possess, so they can be set free from ‘the tyranny of male sexuality’. It’s one of the baits that the Crabs offer male-dominated species, so they can enslave some members of those species as a permanent food source while killing off the rest.”

“That’s *horrible*!”

“Yes. It rather puts your own suffering in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Melanie felt as if she was poised on an emotional precipice. Chris Alan’s sheer brilliance and her own compassion had put her there, and she knew it.

“You’re trying to break my emotional attachment to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Am I succeeding?” Chris Alan smiled slightly when he said that.

Melanie sighed. “Not even *you* can do that, Chris Alan. Only time can do that: time and finding someone who somehow will help me endure the memory of you.”

“My personality type, Melanie, is rare, but it’s not unique – and neither are my talents as a Lightchild or a Starbard, not completely.”

“False modesty won’t help me, Undying Singer,” Melanie replied a little pointedly, just to remind Chris Alan (as if he needed it) just how unique he really was.

“I’m not giving you any. Please hear me out. There are others out there, including (I’m sure) some among the Children of the Sky, who have personalities and talents rather like mine, even if they don’t have all of what I have combined. There are still others who have different personality types, and they could be better matches for yours than mine could ever be. You need someone to counterbalance you, to bring out the best in you. I like dreamers; I happen to be a dreamer; but my serious approach to life overall would be a burden to you sometimes. You need someone who appreciates your capacity for fantasy, yet can help you channel it properly. If you wait on the Lord patiently, then you’ll figure out that truth in time – maybe sooner than you expect.”

“I’m not sure I can believe you just yet, Chris Alan, no matter how much I want to.”

“Then let me explain one more thing to you. I think it will help you.”

Chris Alan turned Melanie to face the observation window. “You asked me how I can be what I am, Melanie Bridgewater. Here’s as good a place as any to explain one of the reasons. What do you see?”

The Seven Ships were traveling along the plane of a spiral galaxy, and the nebulae where they had encountered the *Realmjumper* (as it had been renamed in Melanie’s dream) and the *Hind of the Dawn* were still clearly visible through the window. So were many stars, near and far. Melanie could discern the colors of the nearer stars (if they were not so near that their brightness overwhelmed her color vision), but the farther ones were almost all simple points of white light to her. She explained all this to Chris Alan, softly and sadly.

“Can you guess what *I* see?”

“Something wonderful and beyond my understanding, I’m sure.”

“If you only knew. Raphael, of course, has been giving me information through his Contact Lens Mode all the time I’ve been up here – and during our conversation, too. But there’s something else I can draw on. Do you remember my speaking of Ultimate Perspective, when Raphael held the Sky Cadets at bay?”

“Yes.” Melanie’s face brightened. “That feat was *incredible*, Chris Alan. I’ll bet you and Raphael together are just about unbeatable.”

“Again, if you only knew; even *we* have our limits. But my Gift of Perspective Without Measure at Need has nothing to do with Raphael’s capacities. It’s part of the White Hand, the unique combination of Gifts that I have as the Undying Singer. The Lord of the Realms awoke that Gift in me in Person, when I was fifteen Standard Years old.”

“You saw the Lord face-to-face – at *fifteen*? Do you know what an amazing privilege that is?”

“Yes. The story’s a long one, and maybe you’ll learn about it some day. But above all, I have that Gift to keep me humble, so I can use the White Hand without hindrance. Thanks to that, I don’t do badly in the humility department – for an Adami.” He chuckled softly. “But maybe others are better qualified to judge that than I am.

“All mortal sentient beings, Adami and non-Adami, have no sense of perspective when they look at the celestial sphere. To them, the stars look as if they’re all the same distance away – or perhaps, the brighter ones seem closer simply because they’re brighter. In any case, they have no real concept of how far away they are. And in much of any given galaxy, the stars visible to the naked Adami eye are too dim to trigger an Adami’s color vision. Only through magnification are their colors revealed. Even for other Lightchildren, their Perspective is only Within Measure at Will at best. They can grasp up to planetary scales, but not greater.”

“Are you saying it’s different for you, even apart from Raphael?”

“Yes. I don’t know how the Gift works exactly, but somehow, it enables me to perceive the true scale of whatever Realm I’m in. Moons, planets, stars, nebulae, galaxies – anything I can see with the naked eye, I can measure relative to my personal scale. In other words, I perceive directly, as no one else save the Elementals and the Lord Himself can do, just how big the visible Realm is compared to me: trillions of times bigger, and that’s just for the local stellar neighborhood. It gets even more awe-inspiring when I look through Raphael’s optics.” Chris Alan paused, as if overwhelmed momentarily by the memories of his experiences with the Gift. “And I see the stars in color – *all* of them, even without Raphael’s help.”

“What keeps your Perspective from completely crushing your ego?”

“Actually, Perspective Without Measure is one of the things that keep my ego in check. All I have to do is look at the stars and I’m reminded that it’s *not* ‘all about me’. It’s about the Lord – and about what I can do for Him and those who love Him.”

“So what makes you think your telling me all this won’t make me put you on an even higher pedestal?”

“Because you really don’t *want* a dual-phase being like me for a husband – and I sense that deep down, you *know* it. You want an Adami like yourself – maybe someone specially gifted like the Children of the Sky are, but someone whom you can love second only to the Lord *despite* his Adami nature, and who will grant *you* the same privilege.”

Melanie sighed, but her urge to cry was gone. “You’re right, Chris Alan. That *is* what I want. How did you know?”

“Besides Prophecy at Need?” Chris Alan smiled softly. “An elderly couple that I used to escort on their trading runs taught me many things about life. One night, while sitting around a campfire on some planet, the man told me that he’d rather experience the joys and the trials of a normal Adami life – including growing old and dying with his wife by his side – than all the benefits of being a Lightchild. I didn’t quite understand then why he said that. I do now. And I know just as surely that you’ll find your greatest happiness in living the life you were *meant* to live.”

Melanie managed a smile. “Thank you, Chris Alan.”

“For what?”

“For being you – and for being here.”

“You’re welcome.”

Melanie turned and walked toward the elevator on the far side of the deck. When the doors opened, she was bathed with Light…

= = = = = =

Melanie sat up in bed and looked around. Miranda was sitting in the nearest chair, as if waiting for her to awaken. Melanie frowned; it would take something serious indeed to provoke Miranda to override the lock on Melanie’s apartment door.

“Melanie, tell me: did you just have a dream about a Starbard named Chris Alan Starbright?”

Melanie’s eyes went wide. “Did *you*?”

“Yes.” And the sisters began comparing mental notes, quickly.

“Your bruise is gone,” said Melanie after a while.

“Yes – and so is my acne, *all* of it.”

“I think that bruise of yours is on my heart. How can I miss someone that I’ve only dreamed about? Do you think that he’s real, Miranda?”

“I believe that he is – or will be. But whether or not, he’s not the only traffic-stopper in the Realms. And despite my being healed somehow, you still have the edge on me in winning a traffic-stopper. That Nimbus, now – he’s just about as cute as Chris Alan, and he’s in your age bracket – not to mention your space-time locus.”

“Chris Alan *did* say that he found a lot to admire in Nimbus.”

“Probably because they’re mirror-images of each other in a way. Why not park yourself by Nimbus when you get a chance and see what happens?”

“I think I’ll do just that,” said Melanie with a soft smile. “Yes, I think I will.”