"We're here," Buddy informed me unnecessarily. "Welcome home," I muttered. We drifted closer to the Lone Star construct, and for the first time, I could see "my" body reflected in the gleaming surface of the star. It was really Buddy's body, of course, or more precisely the icon she'd chosen for herself. What I saw was a beautiful woman in her early twenties. Her body was slender, almost perfect, her expression warm and caring, her flowing hair the color of polished ebony. The woman was dressed in an elegant evening gown that glowed the brilliant green of laser light.