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  TO KISS A STAR
    by Abe Urtat-Du'Edu
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    When I was very young, I would lie on the cool night grass
  wondering at the stars. I would lie there for hours, talking 
  to them; they were always nice, gentle, and wise.
    
    Not like my father. He was cruel, rough, and stupid. I don't 
  think he should have hit me so much, but he said I'd killed my 
  mother, and I should just be thankful he didn't kill me. I never 
  even met my mother, so I don't know how I could have hurt her; 
  but he hit me anyway.
    
    I told the stars when my father was mean to me, and they
  said they would take care of me; and I told my father that. He
  said I spent too much time under the dome, watching the stars,
  and I could never go back. He said we would be landing on a new
  planet during my life, and I had to learn something or he'd get
  in trouble. "Make yourself useful," he said. He took the stars
  away from me and locked me in a room to learn about numbers and
  growing plants and all kinds of things I didn't care about and
  didn't understand. When the airlock opened with him trapped
  inside, they said it was an accident. I knew better; I knew the
  stars were taking care of me and had finally punished him for
  being mean.
    
    Dr. Palmer took care of me too, after that. She let me see
  the stars again, but said I still had to learn things. I tried
  to learn because she was nice. Nobody much noticed, though, if I
  left the classroom after she took me there every day; they were
  all so busy.
    
    When I left, I didn't always go to see the stars in the
  dome; sometimes I watched them from the control room. I went
  there if the other kids were in the dome:  They would make fun 
  of me there, call me stupid, and shove me until I left. But the
  mates on duty let me hang around. They showed me everything they
  did, like how they'd enter minor course changes Dr. Palmer would
  send them, honing our approach to our new home.  But they never
  understood about the stars. Most of the time they just sat and
  watched the controls while I watched the stars. They didn't think 
  the stars were interesting, but they liked me to hang around. They 
  especially liked to leave me "in charge," when they'd sneak off to 
  be with their girl or boyfriends.
    
    When I was older, the other boys my age were interested in
  girls too, and the girls in the boys. But the boys didn't want
  me around, or the girls either. I asked a girl to come see the
  stars with me once -- she only laughed, and told the others. I
  knew she would be punished too. That's when I realized I would
  never be like them; none of them could ever love me. They can't
  understand. But even if they could never love me, I could still
  fall in love; and I did.
    
    Living with them that way was frustrating, yet I never let
  on that I understood, that I was in love. Instead I tried to
  show them I wasn't "good for nothing," as my father said. But
  they laughed behind my back when I said I wanted to be a mate 
  in the control room. The kind ones said I wasn't old enough, and
  that we were almost there so it wouldn't matter soon. The mean
  ones said there would be no more stars to see at night since our
  new home was always in daylight. But I forgave them, and asked
  the stars not to punish them, because love does conquer all.
    
    Yesterday I showed them my surprise -- how much I'd learned! 
  I locked myself in the control room with my love, and made tiny
  adjustments to their controls. They've been trying to get at us
  ever since. I know they're angry that I spilled all their fuel,
  but they must understand about love.
    
    Now, at last, I can embrace my love tenderly. She calls to
  me warmly, smiling brightly, come closer. I don't even mind
  sharing her with everyone else, for it's the greatest feeling
  there can ever be to kiss a star.
  
                                 (DREAM)
                                 
  Copyright 1996 Andrew Burt,  All Rights Reserved.
  -------------------------------------------------------------------                             
  Andrew is a freelance writer, who especially likes SF. He's also in
  charge of a fiction writers' mailing list; for more info contact 
  the web page at: http://www.cs.du.edu/users/critters/  
  You can email him at: aburt@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu
  ===================================================================
  
