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"Sing of good things, not bad. Sing of happy, not sad."

"Sing" - the Carpenters

There was plenty of talk in the Martian conference room next morning. I tried my best to pay attention, knowing it was bound to be important stuff, but I just couldn't concentrate.

Star's passion the night before, had given me one last intimate glimpse into his mind-whether he meant it to, or not. I would have liked to believe that his statement meant he needed only me, and Vaira was history, but it didn't seem possible. If there was one word to describe Star-other than gorgeous-it was moral. He and Vaira were married. He had made promises, and he had no intention of turning his back on her-especially with another baby on the way.

Of course, I couldn't forget there was a second baby to be considered-the one inside Star, the one that was part me.

I had held Star until he fell asleep next to me on one of the narrow beds, his sweet gentle smile never wavering after we'd shared one more kiss. But I couldn't relax. I'd always done my best to believe that Vai was good to Star, that she made him happy-that was really the only way I could stand to see them together. He had chosen her, even if it was before he knew I existed. He loved her.

Even if he enjoyed the sexual things we did together, usually as a threesome with Vai, Star was straight. I would have gladly remained in the body of Eve forever, if it meant I could be his one and only, but Vaira got there first.

I knew Vai liked sex. On our private little tête-à-tête's she and I had done just about everything in the Kama Sutra. She was no blushing virgin when it came to sparring in the sheets, so… why wouldn't she give her husband a blow job? I didn't understand it, but then there wasn't much about Vaira that I did understand.

However I wanted to interpret Star's declaration concerning me, I knew exactly what it meant. Oral sex was a particularly intimate thing, and I'd seen him go down on Vaira. What reason could there be that she didn't return the favor?

Well, Vaira's and my sexcapades were history. She would have to go elsewhere to slake her more exotic thirsts. But I would certainly be glad to make up for the lack she left in Star's life, whenever I got the chance.

I wondered if last night had changed our relationship in some way. It seemed to me that Star smiled at me in a warmer fashion than before. If he'd been anyone but the perfect man he was, I'd think that our intimate exchange of fluids had made him feel better about himself-more attractive and accepted. Sitting at the end of the big conference table, watching the tiny dot of one of Mars' moons drift over the horizon, I decided that was silly. Every eye at the table was on him, admiring him, physically and mentally. Star had to know how perfect he was… didn't he?

"Mars is a beautiful planet," Star was saying, gaze directed out one of the large, curving windows.

Niya B smiled. Her hair was in another sort of style today-completely different, but just as complex. "Would you care to walk outside?" she asked. I thought there might be a hint of pride in her tone.

Star smiled at her and glanced at me. I shrugged.

Down a long corridor, there was a small tubular chamber. The entrance door stood open, but the outer door was tightly sealed. Niya B and several of the other council members had come along. She slid up a wall panel to reveal what had to be oxygen masks. Another, taller panel, revealed filmy gray pressure suits. Niya gestured toward the items. "Some of us use these for prolonged outside stays. Do you wish…?"

Star shook his head gently. By extending my senses, I could feel the conditions outside the walls, and they weren't friendly. Star and I wouldn't be bothered, but how would the Martians stand it?

There was room for only four at a time in the little chamber. When both doors were closed and we were isolated in the small room, buttons were pushed, and the pressure and temperature immediately began to drop. The Martians stood stoically, faces serene, until the outer door opened onto a small landing, at the end of which a smooth stone path led away into the hills.

The thin breeze cut easily through the oxygen-starved atmosphere, lifting Niya's hair and clothing. The other council members soon joined us, and we all regarded the rich red landscape, the Martians' large chests now pumping visibly.

The sun's radiation burned easily through to the planet's surface, pulling any vagrant moisture from crevices in the rocks. My body adjusted with no thought on my part, as the energy aura that surrounds me perked up and kept my own personal space in stasis. The Martians' brown skin seemed to turn more leathery as I watched. No one spoke, and they kept their mouths tightly shut, even their nostrils flexing closed-opening only to take in each large breath.

As if to prove that they could, the council members led us some way down the paved path, until the city dome was hidden behind a rise. I turned in place, taking in the endless sand, the empty hills stretching on to a too-near horizon, feeling the slight but constant breeze and perhaps sensing passing ghosts of the beings that had once brought life to this sad, quiet world.

I'd read some of the old Martian tales by Edgar Rice Burroughs. I was sure he'd be disappointed not to find here the flora, fauna, and water-filled canals he'd imagined.

The tiny scrap of moon had set; the sky held only dry wisps of cloud and a small bright disc of distant sun. Star gestured, and the group turned back.

Refreshments were brought immediately upon our return to the conference room. I felt certain that, whatever their adaptation, the natives needed to replenish the moisture that had bled away while they braved the naked surface.

"Much could be done here," Star stated. "Have you only the forests for oxygen, or do you use chemical or mechanical processes to remove it directly from the soil?"

Everyone looked startled at that. D'Layo stood up, a glass of pale liquid still held in his hand as though he planned to make some sort of toast. "How do you know about that?" he asked, voice rising. Niya B put out a hand to him, and he sat again, bowing his head. "Forgive me; these processes are secret, known only to the council."

Niya B stood now, gesturing him silent. "We fear that the people who toil to keep our farms alive will feel less important, will lose heart if they find their hard work is not the sole hope of our people." D'Layo paled, as did other members of the council.

"Yes, it has been kept secret, but we must trust you either fully, or not at all," she stated firmly, her gaze locked on Star's.

He smiled gently. "I asked because such a process seems to me logical. If you will show us your facilities, perhaps we can improve their efficiency. I would view your waste processing plants as well. It may be that I will have suggestions for their increased efficiency also."

Star picked up his glass, and there was an immediate flare of chatter around the table. He glanced at me but said nothing, his expression bland.

I thought I knew what he was thinking. Sure, we could maximize the output of those machines, maybe make the natives' situation a bit more comfortable and secure, but what this planet needed was a complete overhaul. Was it possible to reverse the decay of the atmosphere, return the sterile sand to fertile soil? Maybe, but it would be a long, complicated process.

And what would happen, almost assuredly in the very near future, when the folks on their sister planet decided it was time to send up a Mars probe? Would it detect signs of the tenuous life that clung to the planet? If it did, would the Terrans send a peaceful mission to get to know their neighbors, or wipe out the possible threat with A-bombs? Earth people's history of dealing with strangers was not pretty.

Still, we visited an oxygen plant, conveniently located under the city, as well as the closest waste treatment facility, and Star offered several immediate suggestions that had the Martian workers boiling around like disturbed ants.

Then, with promises to keep in touch, we jumped for home.

* * *

I don't know if I believe in women's intuition-Vai couldn't have known what we did on Mars unless Star told her-but it soon became clear that I was on Vai's least wanted list. She put up with my presence when Star was around and even let me take the twins for outings unsupervised, but her manner became colder as time marched on.

As I had half expected, Star also grew more distant as the months passed and the baby's birth drew nigh. He and I were never alone, but always chaperoned by Kareinon or Vaira herself, her belly now large in stylish maternity clothes.

Perhaps she needed another woman's company, because Xintaie was still welcome, and I got a lot of my updates from her. We hung around together, now and then, and her presence reminded me of the little sister I'd had, growing up.

Finally, I quit even trying to be close to Star. I didn't want to cause him more trouble in his marriage. As a matter of fact, I became so detached from the whole proceeding that I missed the actual event of birth. While, under Suria's eager supervision, Star and Vaira labored to bring forth their almost-twin daughters, I was involved in a minor event of my own with an enthusiastic partner in a secluded part of Denver's City Park.

Too much information, I know, but I couldn't stop looking for some enjoyment out of my life, when Star and Vaira shut me out of theirs.

* * *

The babies were girls, both beautiful and looking as much like twins as Roca and Racho, who were not identical either. Star always let Vaira name their kids, and she picked Ulana for her baby. Star went all "future ruler of the Federation" for a while and named his daughter himself, calling her Mari Alta, which means something like "first-born princess" in Lecurelan. I thought it was a bit much, but she was cute enough to carry any name, no matter how pretentious. Star let me hold her, just hours after her birth, and I had to admit I'd never seen anything more beautiful. She had Star's coloring, except for baby-blue eyes, and I swear she knew me right away. Well… maybe.

Once Mari was born, Star stepped back into the role of father, giving Vaira sole care of the children. After seeing the newborns, I was determined not to let Vaira keep me out of my daughter's life. Star was perfectly agreeable to me dropping in any time, and it seemed the birth had mellowed Vai as well.

Of course I knew that Mari was our child, Star's and mine, and I often wondered why I felt so lonely when I watched Vaira suckle the girls, one at each of her milk-expanded breasts.

Little Mari was almost identical to her almost-twin Lana, and both had Star's platinum hair, in spite of Vaira's and my genetic input, the single difference being that Mari had developed gray eyes like mine while Lana's were like Star's black ones. Star's genes seemed to overwhelm any others, even mine-another obvious sign that he was made better than I.

Suria was practically jovial after the girls were born. Her own son had to be only a little younger than Roca and Racho, but I'd never seen him. It crossed my mind to wonder what was happening to the other incubated children Star had mentioned. They all had to be "born" by now. Star never showed any curiosity about them, and I didn't care enough to risk a personal chat with Suria, so I took the coward's way and never mentioned my interest.

I had plenty of other things to wonder about.

Back when Vai and I were buddies, she had talked about her home planet. Her mom had passed away years before, but her father was still alive. Like Roca and Racho, the new babies matured at an amazing rate, and after a few months, Vai expressed a desire to take the kids to her planet for a visit.

Ever glad to please, Star packed up the family, Kareinon and all, and they left, traveling on a space liner because Vai had the silly idea that jumping might be harmful to the little ones.

She couldn't know the reality of jumping. Vai seemed to have no special gifts whatsoever-no telepathy, no extra-sharp senses-nothing. In a way, I pitied her. Of course, she had Star to do whatever she wanted, but I sometimes wondered if their differences might not breed a bit of jealousy over time.

I was invited to go along with them, even though our three-ways had not resumed after the births, but I decided they didn't need a third wheel on their family visit. Vai's father had never met Star, but what could he find not to like about such a son-in-law?

* * *

It seemed that the vampires of Denver had been waiting a long time for a club like the Affair. The joint was jumping every night, so I had plenty to do with my time-singing, and sometimes playing with the band. I stayed away from sex with any of the vampires except Dex, and I never volunteered to let him bite me. I rather missed that intimacy, but it reminded me too much of what I'd once shared with Mr. D. He never made reference to our time together when I was Eve, and he now treated me with a cool, impersonal sort of friendliness.

I also spent time pondering what else ought to be done for the Martians. In the end, that puzzle was too complex for me, and I decided to leave it for Star.

He and his family were gone for quite a while, and I began to think about other ways to keep from missing them-like maybe enrolling in some college courses. I still didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up, since the whole ruler-of-the-Federation thing was no longer in my future, but I figured a degree of some sort couldn't hurt. Maybe I'd study psychology-it sounded like an interesting subject, and it might even help me understand myself.

I was perusing catalogs for Denver University when Star appeared in my apartment. I couldn't help but smile. "Hi," I said, trying for cool, "what's life like on Krina?"

"We miss you," he said, making my heart speed up, just a little. "The children would like it very much if you would come to visit." His smile grew warmer. "The girls have grown so much, and the boys ask for you."

I suppose I would have preferred if it was Star who missed me, but I missed the kids too, and very much wanted to see my daughter again. "You talked me into it," I said, "lead the way."

Krina has a lot of desert. I understand that the terrain varies when you get close to the ocean, but Vai's father lived inland. Outside, sand was everywhere. Quite a lot found its way inside too, in spite of Star's mentally shooing it out every morning. The dwellings were packed sand with flat roofs, much like you'd find in desert climates on Earth. Plant-based building products were scarce, and many things were made of glass-or its near relative, ceramic. It was about as different from what I was used to as a place could be, but the strangeness didn't bother me, not even the constant, pervasive odor of the natives' spicy cooking-I'd come to see the kids.

One good thing about Krina was that reconnecting with her home seemed to have further mellowed Vaira. I was introduced to her aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends, and she was ever the gracious hostess. As on Earth, Kareinon seemed to do a lot of the work, especially child care.

The hot dry days were noisy and busy with visitors, but the evenings were only for immediate family-and I was included. Star was right-the kids had matured remarkably, but they still seemed to remember me and to be glad I was there. Me? I had the time of my life with them.

One evening, about a month after I arrived, we were all settled in the largest room in the dwelling. Star was glued to charts on the view-screen, and Vaira was doing some sort of decorative craft with a Krinan touch. The kids and I had finished our nightly game of "horsey," and I was taking a breather in a big soft chair.

"Please, Uncle Evan, tell us a story!" Lana, Vai's daughter, bounced exuberantly on my lap, and three other bundles of little-harnessed energy added their six cents worth.

Racho: "Tell us an old story."

Roca: "Yeah, tell us about when they threw you out of the palace."

Star: "Roca!"

Racho: "We're sorry, Uncle Evan, but tell us what happened after that?"

I didn't really mind the questions-they were kids, after all.

"I came to Earth, Snow-top Junior, and you know how dull Earth is." I reached for a foot and tossed Racho, spinning, for the ceiling. As I'd expected, he never reached it, just landed back in my lap… and his sister's.

Roca, the eldest by one minute and still larger and sturdier than his brother, eyed me seriously, seated on thin air at my eye level. "Racho says you used to be peculiar."

"What?"

"That's what he said… or maybe he said queer."

I placed my right hand slowly over my eyes. The left one continued to balance little Mari on the chair arm. Shit. Where had he picked up that word?

"Star," I called, "are they ready to hear this?"

He barely looked up from his studies. "Who can say?"

Not me. I did my best to look wicked. "All right, but it's not called queer these days, you rascals. Gay is the right word, and it's when a man would rather sleep with boys than girls."

There was a chorus of giggles. Then Roca: "I'll sleep with you. You've slept with Daddy."

One hand stifling a laugh, Vai left the room.

Star continued to stare at the screen he'd been reading, but smothered what sounded like an alligator attempting to swallow a boa constrictor-sideways.

I stood up abruptly, dumping the whole mess. "It's not funny! Roca, gay men don't sleep with children! Damn it, Star-they're your kids, you tell them the facts of life." I decided to leave the room too, and see if a Band-Aid was good for injured dignity.

Roca managed to look as though his feelings were hurt, but I didn't know how to deal with that.

Little Mari took my hand. "Please, Uncle Evan, sing us a song?"

"Well…." She looked up at me with gray eyes so like my own, and everything else seemed to evaporate. "All right."

The room arranged itself more neatly as I placed myself behind the console of what passed for an organ on Krina. Vai reappeared from somewhere, and a pair of twins settled gently on her knees.

I sang.