“Been here long?” Parks asked.
“Fifteen years. Fifteen long, long years.”
“Did you—uh—I mean—” Parks looked suddenly confused.
Clayton glanced quickly to make sure the bartender was out of earshot. Then he grinned. “You mean am I a convict? Nah. I came here because I wanted to. But—” He lowered his voice. “—we don’t talk about it around here. You know.” He gestured with one hand—a gesture that took in everyone else in the room.
Parks glanced around quickly, moving only his eyes. “Yeah. I see,” he said softly.
“This your first trip?” asked Clayton.
“First one to Mars. Been on the Luna run a long time.”
“Low pressure bother you much?”
“Not much. We only keep it at six pounds in the ships. Half helium and half oxygen. Only thing that bothers me is the oxy here. Or rather, the oxy that isn’t here.” He took a deep breath through his nose tube to emphasize his point.
Clayton clamped his teeth together, making the muscles at the side of his jaw stand out.