The fiercely contested Precidian Campaign was over. In a series of savage engagements, the Trigellian stranglehold on Devierone had been broken and the enemy driven back to the border of Nomasauros. The Aurestrian intelligence officers now poured over their mountains of reports, and collated and analyzed data, and began to form an estimate of just how great had been the climactic victory at Toxaris.

And in the fleet it was time for an easing of the tension of constant combat. Most of the ships were long overdue for port time. So in the few weeks of respite before the next thrust would surely come, some of them, the ones that had been longest on station, were rotated back to Venneriffe. There they would quickly be repaired and re-outfitted and the crews could receive much needed recreation time. The citizens of Venneriffe were eager to extend their warmest hospitality to the Aurestrian sailors.

On the V.S.S. Risquess Davis Jormayne stared into the mirror, admiring his shiny new lieutenant's bars. He tried striking a few heroic poses, but it was hard to judge the overall effect. The mirror over the washbasin was fairly small and he had to stoop slightly to get the right view. But it was satisfying all the same.

Promotion to full lieutenant. And well ahead of the customary schedule. Not that the usual promotion schedules were particularly relevant nowadays. Promotions tended to come suddenly and unexpectedly in wartime. But even by his most critical assessment, Davis Jormayne knew he had been promoted because he had earned it. Not because of who he was.

The "squawk box" suddenly rang, interrupting Jormayne's posing.

"Stateroom 12, Lieutenant Jormayne speaking," he said, picking up the handset.

"Lieutenant Jormayne, please report to the Captain," the voice on the other end responded.

"Report to the Captain, aye," Jormayne answered, and he hung up the handset with a sigh. He could guess what was coming.

"Lieutenant, Admiral Stergeone has requested that you accompany him on his official rounds this afternoon. He intends to leave at 15:00 hours sharp and wants you to report to him at 14:45 for a briefing. A launch will take you over to the flagship."

The Captain spoke in a dry, impersonal tone of voice, but a kindly smile played on his lips.

"Yes sir, I'll be ready," Jormayne replied. "I was expecting to be called."

He always was. Not that it was the Admiral's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was simply an inescapable fact of life for Davis Jormayne. First: they had just arrived at Venneriffe. Second: everyone knew Davis Jormayne was with the squadron. Third: the Admiral had to pay his respects to the local government and military officials. And fourth: those officials would never forgive Stergeone if he didn't give them the opportunity to meet the son of Landis Jormayne. The whole progression was as relentlessly inevitable as a mathematical equation.

There was just enough time for a quick shower. Lieutenant (j.g.) Dashiell, who shared Stateroom 12 with Jormayne, had returned. He whistled sympathetically when he heard about Jormayne's assignment.

"Tough luck, Dave. But you can still make it to the mixer at the 'O' Club. It doesn't start until 19:30. The Admiral's bound to be through with his rounds by then."

"I don't know if I'm going to the mixer, Steve."

"What do you mean not go? Dave, I hear they've canceled night classes at the local University. You know what that means, don't you? Five girls for every guy. At least. Why don't you want to come?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I just want to get away from the crowds. Have a little time to myself."

"OK," Dashiell said uncertainly. "Where do you think you might go?"

"To the library. B. D. LeBerks has published a new novel. In the 'Timérand' series. I want to check it out. Maybe get a personal copy."

"Well, we'll miss you."

"Maybe I can drop in later." Jormayne glanced at his watch. "But now I've got to go. The launch is probably waiting for me."

***

Admiral Stergeone had thankfully breezed through his rounds with dispatch, pausing in each office just long enough to satisfy the needs of professional courtesy. Davis Jormayne had been alert, attentive and graciously modest to the various officials who had lined up to make his acquaintance. Nor had he neglected the little people, but had shaken hands and spoken to the office staffs as well.

Now, having done his duty and been released with thanks by the Admiral, he turned to his own interests. It was nearly 18:00, 6:00 P.M. civilian time. The library should still be open, although with all the changes and adjustments due to wartime conditions, Jormayne wouldn't be sure until he actually got there.

He boarded the sky tram, his ID Card in hand, ready to insert in the card reader in order to pay the fare. But the driver clapped his hand over the slot and said, "No charge for servicemen in uniform."

The people of the Aurestrian territory had always been highly supportive of the fleet, even in peacetime, and the servicemen had long taken that support for granted. There were no signs warning "Dogs and Sailors Keep off the Grass" posted in Aurestria. Not like in the home worlds, according to popular rumors.

But now, that customary good will had been greatly augmented by the overwhelming patriotic support for the war effort. Nothing was too good for the men in uniform. The serviceman was welcome wherever he went. Complete strangers smiled and waved at him in the streets. People stopped him and asked if they could be of any assistance. He had free admission to athletic and theatrical events, in general seating of course, not the reserved seats. And even public transportation was free to him.

"Could you tell me where to get off for the library?" Jormayne asked the driver.

"Sure. I'll let you know when we get to that stop."

Jormayne chose one of the side-facing seats. The large, curving windows on the side of the sky tram afforded an excellent view, and he settled back to enjoy the ride as they wended their way through the city, pausing briefly at the frequent tram stops to discharge and take on passengers. Despite the hour, there were still many people bustling about, and as Jormayne watched the traffic flowing by and the purposeful and orderly activity, he was lulled into a sense of peaceful tranquillity. It was almost enough to make him forget about the war.

A trio of school aged girls got on and took a seat opposite where Jormayne was sitting. After a few moments, he noticed that they were eyeing him and giggling and whispering to each other. Of course they didn't know who he was. They were just taken by the sight of the young man in uniform. A slight smile creased Jormayne's lips.

"This stop for the library," the driver announced.

"Thank you," Jormayne replied and stood up. He observed, out of the corner of his eye, the disappointed looks on the faces of the girls as he walked past them on his way to the door, and acting on a sudden impulse winked at them.

Emerging from the tram, he took the moving ramp down to ground level and paused to look for the library.

"Can I help you?" a soft voice asked.

Jormayne turned around and found himself addressed by an elderly lady. She was very slightly built and barely came up to his shoulder.

"Yes please," he replied. "I'm looking for the library."

"Over there. It's the large building with the glass walls and all the shrubbery in front."

The building she was pointing to was about half a block away.

"Yes, I see it now," Jormayne said with a beaming smile. "Thank you very much."

The elderly lady smiled back. "No, thank you."

And she turned and scurried away before Jormayne could respond.

The library was open, would be open until 8:00 according to the sign at the entryway. Plenty of time for Jormayne's needs. The title of the new B. D. LeBerks novel was Bad Blood: Toland's Story. The librarian at the front desk had insisted on sending an assistant to help him find a copy although Jormayne protested that it wasn't necessary. Now with diskette in hand he looked for a good place to read.

The library was not especially crowded but the patrons were so diffused throughout the public areas that it was impossible to find a seat that was not in someone's vicinity. Jormayne spotted a comfortable looking place that was fairly isolated. Only one other person was in the area, an attractive young woman sitting at a work station. She glanced up as Jormayne walked past.

"Hello," Jormayne said pleasantly.

"Hi," the young woman replied with a shy smile, and quickly returned to her work.

Jormayne settled into his seat, it was very comfortable, and swung the diskette reader into place. He inserted the LeBerks novel and quickly plunged into the opening chapter. But despite the appeal of the story and the fascinating power of LeBerks' narrative style, he found his attention drawn to the young woman at the work station.

She was certainly a pretty girl. She was dressed casually, but with a trim, professional look. Her dark hair was tastefully done, in perfect balance to the pale glow of her face. Her makeup, lightly applied, whispered rather than shouted her natural beauty. And there was a soft gentleness in her whole demeanor that forcefully appealed to Jormayne.

But most striking of all were her eyes. Her eyes were alert, expressive, yet overlaid with a curtain of shyness that was almost haunting in its quality.

She seemed to be doing some research. She had several diskettes and was paging through them, pausing frequently to print excerpts. Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she made annotations to her copies. As he watched her surreptitiously, Jormayne struggled to recall exactly how her voice had sounded when she said that single word, "Hi."

And then he realized that although the young woman did not appear to be taking any notice of him, she was nonetheless aware of his scrutiny. A soft blush of embarrassment was creeping into her cheeks. So he turned his attention back to LeBerks, pausing only occasionally to steal glances at the woman.

A soft "beep" came from her work station, a warning that she had copied as much from the book she was using as was permissible under the copyright laws. Jormayne looked over at her with a friendly smile and their eyes met. But she quickly looked away, and slightly flustered, began to assemble her papers and slide them into a folder. Then she gathered up the diskettes, pushed back her chair from the work station, and left the area without another glance at Jormayne.

Jormayne turned back to the novel, but it no longer held his attention. He kept thinking about the woman. She seemed to be in her early twenties, mid-twenties perhaps. She really was a very pretty girl, and Jormayne wished he had had a chance to speak with her.

He had already decided to buy the new LeBerks novel, so he removed the diskette from the reader and carried it up to the front desk. With a surge of pleasure he saw that the young woman was standing close by, browsing through the files at the reference desk, and Jormayne began to contemplate how he might strike up a conversation with her.

"I'd like to buy a copy of this book," he told the librarian.

"Certainly," she smiled. "I'll make a copy right away. There's a twenty percent discount for servicemen."

Jormayne handed her the diskette and his ID Card, and she inserted them in the appropriate slots on the copier, along with a blank diskette. In a few moments the novel was copied onto the blank diskette, and the casing was printed with the cover artwork. The price of the book would be charged to Jormayne's financial account and the sale recorded and credited to LeBerk's publisher.

When the work was completed, the librarian handed the new copy and the ID Card to Jormayne.

"And here's your book, Mr. . ." the librarian glanced at the receipt to read his name, and gasped.

"Mr. Davis Jormayne!" she exclaimed in wide eyed astonishment.

Out of the corner of his eye Jormayne saw the young woman shoot a startled look in his direction.

"Yes, thank you," he said to the librarian with a warm smile.

It was as good an excuse as any to speak to the young woman. Surely after what had gone before she was entitled to meet the famous Davis Jormayne, now that he was standing practically next to her.

"Dave!" called out a voice that was much too loud for a library. "See. I told you we'd find him here."

Jormayne turned around and saw Steve Dashiell and a couple of other junior officers from the Risquess. Accompanied by three attractive young women who were dressed in their party best.

"Dave, this is Linda, or is it Glenda?" Dashiell said. "And these are the twins, Jan and Jill. I can't tell which is which. Excuse me, ma'am."

This to the librarian who was staring in amazement at this boisterous crowd.

"Dave, you've got to come with us. We promised the girls."

Jormayne, slightly bewildered by the sudden rush of events, automatically extended his hand. Linda or Glenda grasped it, staring at him with open mouthed awe, and then with impetuous abandon pulled herself close and planted a kiss on his lips.

Jormayne reeled back in shock. He turned. The young woman was gone. He darted a look across the public areas, but didn't see her. She must have left the library while he was distracted.

"Got your book?" Dashiell asked. "Great. So let's go, we just have time."

Jormayne allowed the crowd to hustle him out of the sanctum of the library, but once they were outside he dug in his heels.

"Just a minute, Steve! What are you doing? Where are you trying to take me?"

"To the 'O' Club. For the mixer." And Dashiell shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I should have told you first. A story got out that you were going to be there, and they announced it over the public forum, and some government jack in office said something about it. . .I think.

"Anyway, everyone's expecting you and the base commander's going to make a welcoming speech and you have to be there. Orders from, uh from the Captain. . .or someone.

"But they didn't know where to find you. Except me. And we gotta get over there p.d.q."

Jormayne, still stunned by this turn of events, vainly looked back at the library one last time before he was pulled into a small ground vehicle parked by the curb. Of course the seating was very crowded and one of the twins ended up in his lap.

***

The base commander's speech was mercifully brief. Apparently he simply wanted to make a quick appearance in the role of genial host. And was possessed of that natural desire in the middle-aged man to be one with the young people, to share with them, however obliquely, their passion and zest for life.

However he was astute enough to not overly impose on the youngsters' patience. So he limited his remarks to a few words of praise for the fighting sailors of the Aurestrian Fleet, of welcome for the officers of that fleet, home from the battles, and of thanks to the young ladies who had consented to come out to the mixer and add their gracious company to that welcome.

"And I'd also like to introduce to you a very special guest who is with us tonight. . ."

And so it began again for Davis Jormayne. Being called up on stage to be personally welcomed by the local dignitary. Being introduced to the crowd. Having to say a few polite words. Having to linger afterward to speak briefly with the ones who eagerly pressed forward to meet him. Having to surrender any hopes of a pleasant evening, devoted simply to his own interests.

Jormayne always tried to do his duty and play the part of the modest and approachable celebrity, but tonight he was conscious of an extraordinary amount of resentment at being imposed upon. And he knew he must be especially careful not to let that resentment show.

Fortunately a good, local band had been engaged for the evening. They were playing popular tunes and the fleet officers, never bashful at seizing the moment, were choosing partners and leading them to the dance floor. And the local officers, not to be outdone, were quickly following suit. And so there weren't nearly as many people lining up to meet Davis Jormayne as might otherwise have been the case.

But there were still enough to give him a dry throat, and afterward Jormayne strolled over to the refreshment tables for a glass of punch. He felt a hand on his shoulder and, turning around, found himself face to face with the base commander.

"I'll be leaving shortly," the base commander said, "but I wanted to thank you again for coming here tonight. It really means a lot to us.

"I understand you had other plans for the evening. I'm sorry for the interruption."

"Thank you, sir," Jormayne replied. "I know how important these affairs are for the men. And I'm happy to do my part. Really.

"But I'll admit that tonight I wish the interruption had come five minutes later."

The base commander opened his mouth as if to say something, but apparently changed his mind. He looked at Jormayne curiously and said, "Then I appreciate your being here all the more. I really hope you can enjoy yourself tonight. Meet some nice people. It looks like a very nice dance."

"Yes it is," Jormayne answered. "Thank you again, sir."

It certainly was a very lively party. Steve Dashiell had wildly overestimated the female to male ratio. It was hardly five to one, although there were considerably more ladies than men. The unattached ones were gathering in small clusters by the walls or sitting at the tables, smiling prettily as they watched and listened to the music, and waiting hopefully for someone to ask them to dance.

Jormayne felt a welling of good will for them that overcame his deeper desire to slip out quietly, and he looked across the room to chose a dancing partner.

Suddenly he tensed in surprise and all his earlier resentment vanished. It was her. The young woman from the library. Sitting with several other young ladies in a back corner. Jormayne stared at her, dispelling any doubts that he could be mistaken. He was not. It was definitely her. Although she had changed clothes and her pastel party dress altered the overall impact of her appearance, there was still the dark hair balancing the gentle softness of her face, and those haunting eyes that he had been trying to visualize all evening.

The band was about to start another number and Jormayne set down his glass and quickly checked his reflection in the punch bowl to make sure nothing was amiss.

Then he strode very purposefully over to the back corner. Every conversation was abruptly silenced. Every eye followed him, expectantly. The young woman watched him approach, her probing eyes searching deeply into his, but giving no hint of her thoughts.

Jormayne extended his hand to her with a smile and said, "May I have this dance?"

"No thank you," was her only reply.

Never before in his life had Davis Jormayne asked for a dance and been turned down. He blinked in surprise and tried to improvise a graceful withdrawal.

"Perhaps later," was all he could manage. He hoped his smile didn't look as forced as it felt.

"Perhaps," the young woman said.

Jormayne turned away and walked back to the refreshment tables, his mind still whirling from this unprecedented rejection. He was just barely conscious of the agitated stirring behind him. One of the other young ladies was whispering caustically, "Laryss, how could you. . ."

***

As Laryss approached the work station in the library she saw Davis Jormayne sitting in the very same seat he had occupied four days earlier. She took her own seat and laid her diskettes on the desk, making no move to load them into the scanner. She just sat and waited.

"May I join you?" Jormayne asked. Standing next to the work station, he towered over her.

Laryss looked at him silently.

"Please," Jormayne pleaded.

Laryss' cheeks dimpled as she smiled.

"Of course. There's a chair over there."

Jormayne pulled the chair over and positioned it so they could easily look at each other.

"This is the third night I've waited here for you. If you hadn't come tonight I think I would have gone knocking on your door."

"It's the fourth night," Laryss said.

"I know," Jormayne replied. "I couldn't come two nights ago. Duty section. I've been here every time I was free."

"You know where I live?" Laryss asked.

"Yes. And the name of the school where you teach. And your home planet. And how long you've lived in Venneriffe. And several other things. I made inquiries."

Jormayne paused to allow her to react. But Laryss accepted his statement without comment, and he felt compelled to explain.

"Being a Jormayne. It's not the glamorous life everyone thinks. You have to put up with so much.

"But there's this for it. It can certainly open a lot of doors. I'm sorry about prying, but I just had to know."

And still Laryss said nothing. But her eyes, her marvelously expressive eyes, twinkled at him, and her lips could not resist the hint of a smile.

"That night at the mixer, I was sure I heard one of the other girls call you 'Laryss'. That's such a pretty name."

There was now slightly more than just the hint of a smile.

"And then the librarian was very helpful. They don't usually place their computer files at the disposal of anyone who asks, but like I said, the Jormayne name opens doors. It wasn't hard to find a Laryss Shelton who comes to the library all the time. Who was here four nights ago doing research and preparing lesson plans for her class.

"The librarian didn't know the name, but she thought she recognized the description. She thought you came in a couple of times a week. So I've been waiting for you. And opening some other doors and pulling a few strings to find out where you live and work and. . ."

During this recital Jormayne's face and tone of voice had become increasingly apprehensive, and finally Laryss burst out with gentle laughter.

Jormayne reacted with a delighted smile, almost a grin of pleasure.

"You know, we have a lot in common," he said. "We're both expatriates. Both from the home worlds."

"We don't have much of anything in common. You're from Valustria. I'm from Brevilard. That's a big difference," Laryss answered.

"Not as far as I'm concerned," Jormayne replied.

And greatly daring, he reached and took her hand. Laryss made no resistance, and he stroked her hand trying to imprint in his memory its very feel and texture.

"Why didn't you want to dance with me?" he asked.

"I did want to dance with you," Laryss said. "I wanted to dance with you so very much."

"Then why did you turn me down?" Jormayne asked in surprise.

"It was all so fast and I could hardly believe what was happening. That you would choose me when there were so many others for you to choose. I'm just a Shelton. But you're a Jormayne of Valustria. That's a very, very great difference."

There was an appealing look in Laryss' eyes that tore at Jormayne's heart. He stroked her hand again gently for several moments before speaking.

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

Laryss smiled shyly and her eyes sparkled. And with a sensate thrill of pleasure Jormayne realized she was softly caressing his hand.

"The way those people came in here and just grabbed you up," Laryss asked. "Does that happen very often, Mr. Jor. . ?"

"Please call me Dave," Jormayne replied. "Yes, it happens all the time. It's a crazy life.

"But I'm not a crazy person."

They sat silently for a few moments, gazing at each other.

"Why did you go to the mixer?" Jormayne asked.

"Some friends talked me into it," Laryss replied. "Pressured me actually. We all have to do our part for the boys in uniform."

"So neither one of us really wanted to be there." Jormayne said.

"No," Laryss answered. "But now we're here where we both chose to be."

"Yes. We are," Jormayne agreed.

The library was nearly deserted. Shortly after Laryss arrived, the librarian had locked the entryway and then dispatched the assistants to quietly advise the other patrons that the library was closing early. Now the assistants had also been sent away and the librarian, having dimmed the lights, alone remained.

"Do you remember what I said at the mixer when you turned me down?" Jormayne asked.

Laryss' eyes twinkled.

"Yes," she replied. "You said, 'Perhaps later.'"

"And you said, 'Perhaps.'"

They exchanged conspiratorial smiles and darted quick looks around them.

"It's later," Jormayne said.

"Yes. It is," Laryss agreed.

"May I have this dance, Laryss?"

"Why thank you, Dave."

They rose from the work station, still holding hands. Jormayne took Laryss in his arms, and hummed a familiar tune, and they danced. In slow, circling movements they glided around the library work stations and reading seats.

"I was hoping you'd be here," Laryss whispered. "You've never been out of my thoughts. Not since that first night."

"You've never been out of mine. I wanted to spend every moment with you." Jormayne answered.

He held her close, filling his senses with her presence, her dark-haired beauty, the soft soprano of her voice, the sweet fragrance of her perfume, the supple strength of her body.

"When do you have to go back?" Laryss asked. "To the. . .to the. . ." she couldn't say "war."

"Soon," he replied. "In a couple of weeks."

He felt her tremor.

"I'll write when I'm away," he promised.

"I know," she said.

"I'll pray for you every day," she promised.

"I know," he said.

"What do you call this dance?" Laryss asked.

Jormayne thought for a few moments.

"The Library Waltz," he replied.

"The Library Waltz," she repeated. "It's my favorite dance."

"Mine too," he said. "It always will be."

And they danced in the dimly lit library, as the night crept in upon them and the stars smiled down through the glass walls. Jormayne began softly singing the words of the song he had been humming and Laryss joined in, adding her voice to his.