Joel found himself beside Nick Thorp. "Where do you suppose we're going?" he asked breathlessly.
"Nu York," Thorp replied. "All the Star Ships berth at the White Plains spaceport. We're lucky. The Zenith's a crack luxury liner. No being battened down in the hold of some stinking freighter for us."
"You've been to space before?"
Thorp turned his incredibly blue eyes on Joel. "For twenty-three years. Rocket ships and Star Ships. I never thought I'd see space again...."
Joel eyed the battered gray-haired spaceman with increased respect. Here was a man who'd seen the stews of Venusport, breathed the murky air of Jovopolis, gazed out on the frigid whiteness of Pluto.
"Then you've been to Asgard?"
"Many's the time. Wait 'til you see it, lad. Jungles and rain and crawling plants that can pluck a man off the ground and devour him quick as a cat!"
Joel was fascinated. The train slid along with a monotonous roar that shut them in a cell of privacy.
"Who's the girl?" he asked, nodding at the elfin sloe-eyed brunette in the seat ahead.
Nick Thorp's eyes twinkled. "Tamis Ravitz. She used to be a dancer. Poisoned her dancing partner in a fit of jealous rage. So I've heard."