Sweet Starfire

two hundred years ago, but the references had been lost. Some research indicated that they were linked to the term Renaissance, and so the names had been attached to its moons. There was a constant hum from the jungle on the other side of the triaton walls. As he walked toward Desma’s house Severance batted absently at one or two night-flying insects that somehow escaped a deflector screen. His mind was occupied with the task of telling Cidra that plans had changed.
    She wasn’t going to be thrilled. She had been counting on at least five days here at Try Again. Time enough to consult local archives and the tall tales of exploration men. She was going to be upset when he informed her that they were leaving the day after tomorrow.
    Well, he couldn’t help the inconvenience, Severance told himself. Cidra was the one who had insisted on a crew contract. She would just have to learn to accommodate herself to the unpredictable schedules of a mail ship.
    He turned a corner, heading down the street that was lined with the majority of Try Again’s company stores and taverns. The distant hum of the jungle was a familiar sound, and he tuned it out. After a year as a bonus man he had developed fairly good instincts for Renaissance. A man either learned when to get nervous or he died learning. Companies didn’t pay huge bonus credit for ordinary manual labor. Bonus credit was paid for risks, and risks on Renaissance were usually in the life-and-death category.
    “Hey, Severance.” A man emerging from a nearby tavern hailed him. “You the one who just hit port with a Harmonic in tow?”
    Severance halted. “Hello, Craft. As usual you’re up to date. A man would think you’re telepathic yourself, the way you always seem to know the latest gossip. How did you know about Cidra?”
    Craft chuckled, unoffended. He’d known Teague Severance a long time. “No magic this time. Saw her with Desma Kady ‘bout an hour ago. They’re in the Bloodsucker.” He nodded up the street.
    Severance swore in disgust. “Desma took her there?”
    “It’s not like we got a whole lot of choice when it comes to night spots in this town,” Craft reminded him. His faded, friendly eyes assessed Severance in the poor light. “Nothing to get upset about. Looked to me like they were both having a good time.”
    “You wouldn’t think someone raised in Clementia would have developed a fascination for dives like the Bloodsucker, would you? The lady’s taste seems to be degenerating.” Severance sighed and moved off purposefully. “See you, Craft.”
    “Sure.” The older man nodded, but Severance was no longer looking at him. He was heading toward the Bloodsucker. Craft chuckled again to himself and decided that he could use another drink after all. He went back into the tavern from which he had just emerged. Bound to be some folks inside who’d want to hear about Severance and the little Harmonic. And Cord Racer’s presence added a nice extra fillip, too bad he hadn’t had a chance to mention Racer to Severance. No matter. They’d find each other soon enough, and word had it that Racer had already found the little Harmonic.
    Desma watched Racer settle into conversation with Cidra. There wasn’t much she could do to stop it, short of making a scene and hauling the younger woman out of the tavern. A woman born in Clementia, Harmonic or otherwise, would be thoroughly humiliated at being the object of the kind of attention that would garner.
    Objectively speaking, there was nothing wrong with Racer. He was reasonably well mannered, especially compared to the majority of Try Again’s population. He was good-looking in an open, breezy kind of way. Red-haired with blue-green eyes and a disarming sprinkling of freckles across his nose, Racer was tall and physically well proportioned. He wore the snug-fitting khaki ship suit and boots with a certain swagger that was not offensive. Women tended to find it endearing, in fact. About the same age as his former partner, Cord Racer was also doing very well for himself as a mail pilot. And he was better educated than the average pilot. Desma had already sensed that for Cidra, intelligence and a good education were vastly more alluring than physical attractiveness in a man. The result of her Harmonic upbringing, Desma supposed.
    The only thing wrong with Racer was the hostility that simmered just below the surface whenever he and Severance came in contact. No one, not even that professional