So Dori and I came to Mars.
Those were the days before there were luxurious space liners. Laugh if you will, Mr. Peache, but they are luxurious; I haven't traveled in them, but I've gone through them at Marsport. When Dori and I came to Mars, passengers were strictly expensive cargo who slept and ate on the centerdeck with the crew and were told brusquely to stay out of the way if they went north of the centerdeck. For a modest woman like Dori—the only woman aboard on this trip—it was an ordeal; always at least one crew member was sleeping or relaxing on the centerdeck, and I had to shield her with a blanket when she dressed or undressed. An inadequate towel was her only screen when she took a shower or went to the toilet.
I had feared trouble because my wife would be the only woman aboard, among a dozen men, on a trip that would last for months. Those fears were groundless. I understand that now women make up an adequate percentage of the crews, but at that time they solved the problem by doctoring the food while aspace.
But tensions mount under such conditions, perhaps more so when their main outlet is suppressed. The terrible thing about the trip, for me, was the deadly monotony. The crewmen had their jobs which, surprisingly to me, kept them busy throughout their duty shifts. Dori, being a woman, was more placid than I. But for me the monotony was torture: you must remember that, besides the lack of privacy, our food was doctored, too, and we could not have lived as man and wife had we had privacy.
Of course, I played cards with the crew, for there was always at least one who was off duty and not sleeping. But I had determined I would do nothing to make Mars as untenable for me as Earth had become, and I resisted the temptation to really gamble with any of them. And gambling for pennies is not card playing to me.
The man who came to my rescue at last was the astrogator, a Hawaiian named Kei. With Polynesian perspicacity, he had smuggled a personal supply of liquor aboard, against regulations. The other crew members knew he took a nip regularly on off-duty hours, but they never could locate his cache.
"Pretty dull, huh, groundie?" remarked Kei as we played gin rummy with cards that insisted on floating off into the wilds of the gravityless centerdeck. "Maybe I can pep things up. Ever been drunk in free fall?"
"No," I said. "I'm afraid I don't have your foresight."
He grinned smugly.