My sister and I were stars. Back then, everyone on Astarte knew our names. We would like to believe that our fame was due solely to our ability to sing, but we both know that is not the case. We were stars because we are unique. And we are no longer stars because we are unique.

Don't get me wrong, we are not complaining. Performing was a good life, and it's how we met Christopher. Oh, how we miss him!

We met him early in our career, when we were still singing at Shangri-La. That was our first job when we came to Port Kidd—"the big city" to us.

Billy Sharp talked us into coming to the city after Mama died. He'd heard us sing on Unity Day, and he hit us up with the notion soon after that. He was so excited, telling us we would live well, be on medialink, and everyone would want to meet us. I think that did it: we've never really had close friends, but if we met so many people, we must surely find some.

We were born in Black Rock, one of the platinum mining towns out in the wilderness. Everyone says that's how come we weren't separated at birth—it's so uncivilized and unlawful on the frontier. Mama always said it should be our choice when we were old enough, and she loved us as we are—her precious flowers, she said. She would say that at least we'd always be together, not alone in the world like so many people. It's a great comfort to me, to us. How horrible it would be to lose Lily! To lose Daisy!

When we arrived in Port Kidd, overwhelmed and afraid, Billy got us a cheap apartment then set about getting us a job. He worked real hard. He nagged poor Mr. Edwards at Shangri-La (and probably paid him) to let us audition. We thought Billy was crazy. Shangri-La is a big-time club. I mean, government people go there.

But however he did it, we got the audition. Billy had a nice dress made for us (except the neckline was a little low!) and off we went. When we met Mr. Edwards, he seemed a little surprised. I figured that Billy had told him about us—why else did we get the audition? But the man still went pale. We sang "Your Eyes, Like Starlight" for him. Lily's voice is a soprano, like mine, only she can sing the harmony. Mr. Edwards couldn't get over it. He was so excited he forgot to light his cigarette. He said that with our voices and special appeal we were destined to be a hit. He drew up a contract, and before we knew it, we were being fitted for spangled stage dresses.

Within a week, we were the opening act at Shangri-La. The announcements got people in the door, as Mr. Edwards hoped, but they stayed after they heard us sing. Mr. Edwards eventually made us the headline act.

It was a little odd, at first, singing in public like that. Standing in the spotlight, with all those eyes watching from the darkness. The two of us alone together, singing of loves won and lost. Billy kept telling us we'd be stars.

Sure, there were comments. One afternoon while we were rehearsing, one of the dancers was flirting with the bartender, sort of eyeing us from the bar. She got to talking too loud, and in between songs everybody in the room heard her say something like, "It's grotesque if you ask me. I thought it was illegal, anyway. Isn't that what the Codes are for? 'Uniformity breeds prosperity,' right?"

We felt so humiliated. We just stood there on stage, and Daisy was so angry! But she didn't say anything. Alfred—he plays piano, oh so beautifully—smiled and told us to take five. He went to Mr. Edwards, and he called that woman in and fired her on the spot. It made us feel good, to have friends like that. Protecting us, that sort of thing. It was a new feeling! Mr. Edwards told us, "Girls, if you ever need anything at all, just let me know. Remember, you are the VIPs around here. You carry more weight than you realize."

Not long after that, a critic at the Colony Voice gave us favorable reviews. We were very excited by the write-up, because he quoted a Governor's aide, who said that we were "exquisite, a symbol of rare achievement and today's progressive society." What a nice thing to say.

We settled into our routine and got a better apartment. Billy was happy, Mr. Edwards was happy, and we were happy. Billy became positively gleeful when we were invited to the Governor's house for a dinner party. "This is a major coup," he said. We had arrived!

It was about this time that we started to notice Christopher. He had come to see us for six straight nights. He arrived exactly fifteen minutes before we came on, and he sat at the same table on the left, toward the back of the room. Mr. Edwards told us that he had reserved the table indefinitely. He drank only pink champagne. He didn't smoke, and while we sang, his eyes never left us. He was the last person in the audience to stop applauding. We were entranced.

It was Daisy's idea to go by his table after a performance. She led the way and said, "Good evening, mind if we join you?"

"Not at all," he replied and pushed two chairs together. He ordered a bottle of pink champagne. I love pink. The bubbles made us giddy.

He said his name was Christopher Van Horn, and he was a civil servant of the Corporate Trust. He was stationed on Astarte, serving a two-year tour of duty. "I shuffle papers all day," he said. We made small talk, and he complimented us on our dark hair and unusual green eyes. Lily blushed like a schoolgirl. We left him at midnight, since he had to work in the morning and we were tired.

The next night we joined him again, and this became a routine. It was the highlight of our evenings. It was the highlight of our lonely lives. He was our first true friend.

Christopher told us about other worlds where he'd been stationed, and he often made us laugh. He was a brilliant storyteller. We never asked, but he either didn't have a family, or he chose not to discuss it. He never spoke of anyone that he knew, no friends or lovers. From our point of view, this didn't seem strange. He was a lot like us, really. That's what drew us to him, I think.

In the meantime, Billy managed to get us a spot on Dick Harrigan's show, "Astarte Live!" He thought it would be good for us to have some colony-wide exposure before the Governor's party. We insisted on getting a ticket for Christopher. No problem, the producers said. We asked for a seat on the left and toward the back. We got it.

The night of the show, we were so nervous! So many people would be watching. Christopher said, "Just go out and relax, be yourselves." Billy said we'd be Astarte's darlings by morning. Mr. Edwards was overjoyed at all the publicity.

Dick Harrigan introduced us as just "Daisy and Lily Todd" so the audience would get the full impact when we came onstage. It was effective. A woman in the studio audience fainted dead away.

We sang "Do You Remember?"—a love song, as usual. Billy said folks wanted to hear love songs more than anything else. There's truth in that. When we finished, we got an enthusiastic ovation. Then we chatted with Dick.

Dick smiled all the time, real wide, and he seemed very nice. He had the brown hair and brown eyes of a Code Three, only intensified somehow. Maybe it was the tan?

Dick said, "Wow, girls, that was wonderful! How long have you been singing?"

Daisy said, "Ever since we were little girls in Black Rock. But we never sang in public until after Mama died."

"Was that because your mother wanted to shield you a bit from the outside world?"

"Oh, no," said Daisy. "We just kept to ourselves, you know. It's a small town."

"Well, we're glad that you are here to sing for us now. Has it been difficult for you, being different?"

Daisy rolled her eyes, so I shook my head and said, "No, every one has been just wonderful to us. We're so grateful to Mr. Edwards at Shangri-La for letting us sing there."

Dick laughed. "I'm sure that Bob Edwards is the lucky one, Lily. What rare gems you are in these times, rare gems. It's terrific, the success you're having. Just goes to show you what people are capable of when given the opportunity." He winked knowingly at the audience. "Good luck with your careers, ladies! You sing mighty fine!"

We thanked him and left the stage. They went to commercial, and Dick came back to shake our hands and thank us again. "You know," he said, "I'm on your side. I'm a Three, myself, and damned lucky not to be shuffling papers somewhere. I'll have you back on again real soon."

He left, and we puzzled over this odd speech for quite awhile. We finally decided that he was just being friendly.

Christopher met us outside and said, "You two were wonderful. Let's go celebrate with some pink champagne!" He winked at us, then went to get a cab. We had a lovely dinner and stayed up much too late.

The Governor's party was coming up, so we decided to ask Christopher if he would escort us. We were playing Pinochle at our apartment (Daisy was cheating, as usual; I was not!), and Christopher was making us giggle, which just egged him on. He'd sit across from us, his hand obscuring his mouth, with just that big old cigar poking over the top of the cards. Those blue eyes calmly looking to me, to Daisy, then back to me. So melodramatic! He should've been an actor; we always told him so.

When everybody quieted down, I said, "Say Christopher, we're going to the Governor's gig next week. Want to escort two gorgeous dames?" (Lily turned bright pink.)

Christopher put his cards down, stood and clicked his heels together, and bowed formally. "At your service, my ladies. I shall bring you pink roses for your hair, and we shall ride upon the evening air to attend the ball. I, your humble servant, shall escort you in to dinner, where you will be the prettiest flowers that the Governor's table has ever seen. And if all goes well, your prince of an escort will not turn into a frog at midnight." He smiled and kissed our cheeks. How our hearts fluttered!

On the night of the party, we wore our finest dress. We still have it, but we don't wear it any more. It's for remembering. The fabric is the most delicate shade of pink silk that you ever saw.

Christopher came to pick us up, and true to his word he had two corsages of pink roses. (We still have those, too, just as fresh as the first day—they're everlasting roses.) When we went outside, we couldn't believe our eyes. An aircar! "Your coach awaits!" Christopher said.

Lily got misty-eyed and said, "Oh, Christopher, how did you ever manage it?"

He opened the door for us and said, "Some acquaintances of mine helped me out." He smiled at our joy. He was so devastatingly handsome in his white suit!

We rode through the air into the sunset (pink!), with the city sparkling below us. If there is an Eternal City, it must look like that.

We were announced at the Governor's mansion, all three of us. Lily was a little embarrassed by it all. I guess I was, too. First we had cocktails in a grand room with marble floors and a very high ceiling. It gave us vertigo just looking up at it.

The Governor came over and introduced himself to us. He was tall, with very kind blue eyes. "I'm such a fan of yours," he told us. "I saw you on Dick Harrigan's show. Enchanting. You're just what this colony needs right now. I spoke recently with Mr. Sharp about the possibility of you two helping us with some advertisements. How does that sound to you? I don't want to take any liberties, obviously." He smiled so charmingly.

I said, "No, that would be wonderful. We love to sing, and if we can help our colony in any way, we'd be delighted to!"

Lily added, "Yes, certainly!"

The Governor beamed at us. "That's wonderful! My people will contact Mr. Sharp to work out the details. Now then, when you go in to dine, the servant will show you to a chair I had specially made for you. I want you both to know that it will always be at my table, reserved only for you." He shook our hands warmly, then we introduced Christopher. The Governor shook his hand, smiled, and continued around the room.

We were flattered by the attention, of course, and thought that the Governor was a real gentleman, although Christopher seemed unimpressed. Well, we are simple country girls, and kindness goes a long way with us, so what can we say?

Dinner was announced, and everyone went in by twos, boy-girl. We stuck to Christopher like glue.

The dining hall was cavernous, with big paintings depicting colonization on the walls. In the middle was a long, ornate wooden table that stretched the length of the room. A lady from the Natural Resources department told us that it was carved from a single piece of wood, uncut. The wood must have come from off-planet; we didn't know trees grew that big, so we were in awe of that table.

A servant led us to the far end, where a special double chair was placed just for us. It had pink satin upholstery with a carved and gilded frame. We thought it was the prettiest chair we'd ever seen.

Dinner was extravagant. Perhaps it was the never ending succession of dishes and the ostentatious atmosphere, but I thought Christopher was quieter than usual, a little tense beneath the surface. He smiled at us often.

After the meal, everyone had drinks in the ball room and made small talk. Christopher said it was a perfect opportunity to observe people, so we left him on a sofa and did a little mingling, mostly because we were curious. We met government officials, some actors, even a general in the military.

Afterward, we cruised through the city in the same fancy aircar, enjoying the lights and the quiet until we finally had to go home. We unwound with some champagne, and Christopher was his old self again, gossiping about the other guests. "Lord!" he said. "Did you see that lady in the purple chiffon! What a garish outfit. Are there no mirrors in her house?"

"You must mean the Labor VP's wife."

"Oh, so that fellow in the stripes was the Labor VP? No accounting for taste."

"Do you mean the stripes or the wife?"

And, being a little tipsy, we'd laugh and laugh. Such good times.

We stayed busy, thanks to Billy's determination. We recorded an album (love songs, of course) that became very popular on Astarte. The radio station played "Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice" several times a day. Mr. Edwards had us sing it every night at Shangri-La, and it became our theme song. We closed our show with it, and then we'd blow a double-kiss to Christopher. The fans loved it.

And we did those commercials for the Governor; you know, public service sorts of things. We sang "Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice" for one of those, too. They didn't play the whole song in the commercial, of course, just a little bit. Then the voiceover said something like, "Astarte: looking toward an egalitarian future," or was it, "Astarte: the voice of Code reform"? They all mix together in my head. We were so proud to promote the colony!

Christopher was always there for us. Whenever he wasn't working, he liked to come watch us rehearse, record, perform, or just hang out. Daisy and I didn't do anything without him, if we could help it. We were invited to all of the Governor's parties, and Christopher was our guest each time, although I don't think he cared much for political people. Still, he went anyway—"to look after us," he said.

I remember one Saturday evening we were playing Pinochle, and Daisy made an offhand comment about us being poor dates for a single guy on a Saturday night (I thought she was rude). Christopher didn't think so. He just smiled, took our hands, and said, "There's no place I'd rather be than right here with my beautiful Double Star."

Lily started to tear up. Well, so did you. I couldn't help it. Needless to say, we loved him.

We had dreams—what girl doesn't? Eventually, though, we woke up. But even then, when we knew they were just dreams, we'd sit back and smile, and remember. We like to remember.

The colony's sixtieth anniversary celebration is the event that we think about the most, the memory we visit again and again. So bittersweet! Our lives changed forever after that.

It was 481 (Corporate Calendar), and the astronomers said that Thisbe (one of our two moons) was going to eclipse Pyramus (the other moon) on Season Two, 73.

Everybody said it was a rare thing, and very auspicious to have the conjunction timed with a major anniversary of our colony's founding. So naturally the government planned a big celebration for that day. (They also had a festival for Discovery Day, as usual, but not as big.) We were invited to sing, along with dozens of others.

All of Port Kidd was alive with excitement and hope. Astarte was destined to become a star of the Trust; we were the future! We would have a voice on the Committee, wages would surely increase, and the Codes would be simplified to allow more movement among the classes. The Governor made optimistic speeches on the "Nightly Political Hour," and his number one aide personally oversaw the event's preparations. We heard rumors that officials from the Committee for the Corporate Trust would also attend.

Work began on the redesign of Platinum Boulevard's main square. In keeping with the theme, it would be a memorial to the founding fathers (complete with platinum statue) and a "Gateway to the Future" (complete with platinum arch). The Governor was going to dedicate the new square at the conjunction ceremony, so they built the stage at just the right angle so they could film everything with the moons right behind the Governor and the performers. It took months of preparation, and rehearsals started early.

We were terribly busy with the club and the upcoming festival, so we weren't able to spend as much time with Christopher as we usually did. But he was very understanding and supportive, and he said he needed to work some extra hours anyway.

On the night of the conjunction, thousands of people crowded into the rebuilt square. Confetti rained down, glowing in the colored lights that were strung everywhere. The red, white, and black flag of the Trust waved in the breeze next to the stage, larger than life, and cheerful banners celebrated our sixty years of colonial achievements with slogans like "Platinum Capital of the Trust" and "477 Worker's Opportunity Act." It was like a big party that lasted for hours and hours, and people were happy.

We had never had such a huge audience, and we were a little nervous. Before the show started, Christopher came backstage (such as it was) and gave us two corsages: a daisy and a lily. The real things, not those reproductions. Even Daisy was speechless. I almost ruined my makeup. "Knock 'em dead," he said.

The Governor came onstage to open the ceremony and dedicate the new public square. He wore his full dress uniform, complete with military medals. He gave a rousing speech. He went on about our achievements, the platinum mines, class mobility, and how vital we were to the Trust. He even talked about Astarte having a member on the Committee one day, because we'd all worked so hard for it.

When he finished, the crowd responded with stomping, clapping, and yelling, and it seemed to go on forever. The Governor stood with his hands clasped behind his back, smiling at his people. When the applause died down, he dedicated the new public square to J. W. Haldecott, the oldest surviving founder. When he'd finished, military officers escorted the Governor to a fancy pavilion off to one side.

Now it was time for the entertainment, our favorite part. All of the big stars performed, and we had music, comedy, and dancing. Dick Harrigan was there to introduce each act and make friendly chit-chat with important government officials.

Fortunately, we performed early, which meant we could watch most of the show. Betsy Callahan, the head of the Media Department, introduced us. We sang "Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice" and dedicated it to Christopher, no last name, because it was a private thing among the three of us. Whenever we sing it, we think of him.

Afterward we took our bows, but the crowd was so insistent that we had to do an encore. We were thrilled! We sang "Across the Wide Galaxy, My Darling." It was a new song, and we were overwhelmed by the audience's response. There wasn't time for another, so we blew our double-kiss to Christopher and left the stage. Grant DeWeil came after us and sang "Blue Moon, Blue Star."

We joined Christopher in the performers' seats (we made sure that he could sit with us) and settled in to watch the rest of the show. Christopher realized he'd forgotten "the pink stuff" for a proper conjunction party toast, so he went to get a bottle. While he was gone, he missed the Eggebrecht Brothers, our favorite comedians. We committed the best jokes to memory so we could retell them later. Christopher finally came back, bottle in hand, before the main conjunction itself.

We were a little worried; he must've been gone over half an hour. He said the crowd was really thick and he didn't realize it would take so long to procure our label. He was a little excited, I think, from the way his eyes were shining. It made our hearts go pit-a-pat.

He was jittery from the cool night air, but he got the bottle open, spilling a good bit and laughing at himself, just as the Colonial Choir of Port Kidd started the colony anthem. We toasted our friendship and watched Thisbe as it slid in front of Pyramus. The yellow surface of Pyramus provided a halo for the dully white Thisbe. We're not supposed to, of course, but with the fireworks flashing all around, it felt like a religious moment, you know? Well, to us it was. Christopher kissed me on the lips, then he kissed Lily. We glowed with the warmth of those kisses for a long time.

It was about then that the party started to break up, which was odd, since it was supposed to last all night. The police were very thick in the crowd, and it looked like they were searching some people. We thought that folks were just getting rowdy, but we soon found out that the Governor, the Labor VP, and two advisors had been assassinated. They were fried with laser darts during the show.

The authorities didn't officially announce that until later. They were too intent on searching the crowd and preventing a scare, or a riot. Several detectives told the performers what had happened and escorted us away from there. We took a cab home.

We were very sad about the Governor. We thought about his kind smile and that pretty pink chair, and we just cried. Why would anyone do such a thing? Christopher held us for awhile and reassured us that it was just politics, and thank heavens we weren't a part of that world. He gave us another kiss, then he said goodnight.

We slept late the next day, then we met Billy and some lawyers about a contract for another album. From there we had to go straight to Shangri-La and get ready for the evening performance.

When we went out on stage, we didn't see Christopher, but there was a pretty pink package sitting in his place, so we knew he must be running late and didn't want us to worry. We finished our set and blew our kisses, then we went to our table. We sat down, and Henry brought us pink champagne, "ordered expressly by Mr. Van Horn." There was a card on the package. I made Daisy open it. It said:

To my Double Star,

I am so sorry that I cannot be here in person to say good-bye to you, but I received my transfer early this morning and had to leave Astarte immediately. I will write to you when I can. In the meantime, take good care of each other and remember your Christopher, who is now very lonely without you.

Love, Christopher

The package contained a framed picture of the three of us sitting there in Shangri-La, the bottle of champagne between us. We wept.

We kept singing at Shangri-La, but it wasn't the same. Lily—and me—were a little brokenhearted about Christopher. It's always painful to let go of your dreams, and to admit that they were just dreams.

But this was our life, performing for others. We couldn't imagine anything else, so we kept at it. Our career was still on the upswing, and we worked on our new album and appeared on "Astarte Live!" again.

The Committee sent us a new Governor, and the colony was optimistic. He was handsome, even for a Code One. After he gave a few speeches, everyone said that he was a very smart man and a realist who understood Committee politics. The government threw a big party for the new Governor—a Celebration of Astarte, they called it. We weren't invited to sing.

We finished our album, but it didn't do well. Radio Astarte didn't think it was right for their audience any more. Eventually, the only singing we did was at Shangri-La, and that also came to an end. Mr. Edwards really cared about us, I think, but "business was business," he said. "The demand isn't there any more." He didn't fool us. He was really sad to see us go.

We returned to Black Rock. We have friends here, but none like Christopher. There was never anyone like him ever again.

We do hear from Christopher once in awhile, although sometimes several years pass in between letters. The Civil Service must move him around a lot, because he is never able to provide us with a return address. We are so thrilled to hear from him, all the same.

Mostly he talks about the places he's seen and the music scenes there. He never mentions any women, or any friends at all. We know that we should not put any stock in this, but we are, as we've said, simple girls, and this omission inspires us to dream, wonder, and sigh.

We know we'll never see him again. Still, he was our best friend, and we miss him. But we have each other. We'll always have each other.