For a long time no one spoke. The ship lumbered through space again, its jets firing evenly, calmly, moving the passengers toward their own planet, toward home. Behind them Deimos and the red ball that was Mars dropped farther and farther away each moment, disappearing and fading into the distance.
A sigh of relief passed through the passengers. "What a lot of hot air that was," one grumbled.
"Barbarians!" a woman said.
A few of them stood up, moving out into the aisle, toward the lounge and the cocktail bar. Beside Thacher the girl got to her feet, pulling her jacket around her shoulders.
"Pardon me," she said, stepping past him.
"Going to the bar?" Thacher said. "Mind if I come along?"
"I suppose not."
They followed the others into the lounge, walking together up the aisle. "You know," Thacher said, "I don't even know your name, yet."
"My name is Mara Gordon."