The girl held out her hand, said, "I'm Jennifer Scott. I'm going home to Ganymede."
He took her hand, introduced himself. "I've been employed to lecture on Ancient History at the Ganymede Seminar."
Jennifer clapped her hands. "Grand. Papa is commandant of the military post. The fort is only a short distance from the Seminar. We'll be neighbors. You'll love Ganymede. It's so wild and primitive."
"No doubt," he replied dryly.
Jennifer glanced at her watch, said, "It's time for lunch. I'm ravenous. Shall we try the saloon or the grill." She seemed to have assumed proprietorship of him. He rather liked it. He said, "Let's try the dining saloon."
As he piloted her across the lounge, he observed again how few people had booked passage. The fear returned, squeezed at his stomach. He said:
"Do you think it was wise to make the crossing at a time like this?"
"What?" said Jennifer. "Oh. You mean the terror. No, I suppose it wasn't, and papa will be frantic. He sent me a spaceogram absolutely forbidding me to return. But I was fed up."
"Fed up?"
"Yes, fed up with Earth and their dull stuffy ways," said the girl passionately. "They're dead. They've forgotten how to play, or fight or make love."