"Cup of that Mars coffee. But—"
"Don't talk till you get something hot inside. Empty belly, empty head."
"Can't eat stuff that comes out of the wall. I'll wait till breakfast."
She flicked the light on low and punched the selector. She took the glow-plate from under the bed and set it on the table. As the food arrived, she heated it and began adding spices. "There—it ain't real food, but you can pretend."
Ethan pretended and, when the food was gone, wiped his lips and looked at her.
She nodded. "Now you can tell me—but keep your voice low. Don't wake anyone up."
Ethan stretched and creaked. "Went down to the Interplanet office and they wouldn't talk to me. Said there wasn't any ship leaving for the next ten months and they didn't sell tickets in advance. I kept pestering them and they got mad. They looked up our records and said we couldn't go anytime, except on a fast ship, and, considering our age, it was doubtful they'd let us. Didn't give up, though, and finally they said we might get a release from the man who'd take us. Maybe they wanted to get rid of me. Anyway, they sent me down to talk with one of the pilots."
Amantha approved. Go straight to the man responsible. Persistence could get you there.
"He talked real nice for a while," Ethan continued. "He explained he didn't own the ship and didn't have the say-so who he took. I knew you wanted to go real bad. I offered him the money we'd saved."