WATERS OF THE MOON: TRANQUILITY UNDER THE EAGLES

       “Nervous about starting school tomorrow?” Kris asked.

       “Perhaps a little nervous,” Grey admitted, stroking her long black hair as she nestled her head on his chest.  “When I accepted my grandfather's invitation to West Point, classes were still five months away.  The time has passed quickly.”

       “It sure has, moonman,” Kris said.

       “Ridiculous human.  I am not a moonman.  The moon has no indigenous life forms,” Grey said, a twinkle of amusement in his steel gray eyes.

       “You were born there.  That makes you a moonman in my book,” Kris said, moving up for a kiss.

       Grey held her in his arms, enjoying a sensation that had been impossible during the isolated years of his childhood.  Kris seemed to know what he was feeling.

       “Missing home?” she asked.

       “Earth has big blue skies.  Tranquility has heat-sealed cavern walls.  Earth has green fields instead of ceramic steel corridors.  On the moon you can’t go outside without wearing forty pounds of equipment.  Here people run naked on the beach.  Yes, there's a lot to miss.”

       “When we first met, you said you'd never visit Earth.  That was only two years ago.  Now it sounds like you never want to go back,” Kris said.

       “I didn’t say I would never visit Earth, though it did seem unlikely,” Grey recalled.

       Their rustic Malibu cottage was so close to the Pacific Ocean they could hear the surf rolling in on the shoreline.  The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight creeping in through the half open window.  The sea breeze felt good.

       “You’ll always be the Governor of the Moon, won’t you?” Kris asked.