Journey Between Worlds by Sylvia Engdahl Read Free Book Online Page B

Maybe it was just the way he had of wording things. The way he said you’re my girl, not I love you. Would I have noticed that before we quarreled? I was going to marry Ross, but on the phone he hadn’t once said that he loved me! When you love someone you should say so, shouldn’t you?
    But I hadn’t said so, either.
    â€œWhat was that all about?” Dad asked, as I joined him.
    â€œJust a school friend,” I told him. “Saying good-bye.”
    â€œHow about some lunch?” he suggested. It wasn’t time to report to the gate yet, and we wouldn’t be able to leave the boarding lounge once they’d stamped our passports.
    â€œI’m not very hungry.”
    â€œIt will do you good.”
    â€œWill it? Won’t I get spacesick?”
    â€œThat’s what they give shots for. Come on, we’ve got time to kill now.”
    â€œYou’re as bad as Gran!” I said, but I followed him toward the restaurant.
    I’ve sometimes wondered if the trip would have been different for me if I hadn’t had lunch at the Interplanetary Terminal that day. How can you plan, when the most trivial decision might change the course of things?
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    The restaurant was jammed when we went in and there was a long waiting line at the buffet. By the time we’d selected our food we had only half an hour left, and we found ourselves stuck with loaded trays, without an empty table anywhere in sight.
    â€œWe’ll have to share,” Dad said. “Look, there’s a couple of seats.”
    The table he pointed to was occupied by a young man, alone, who seemed totally absorbed in the book he was reading while he ate. I started to protest that I’d hate to intrude, but Dad had already spoken. “Pardon me, would you mind if we sat here?”
    The man looked up and answered cordially, “No, of course not, sir. Sit down.” He moved a small bag from the chair beside him and shifted his empty tray onto the floor. We piled ours on top of it after arranging our dishes on the table.
    â€œWe’re in a hurry; they’ll be calling our flight soon,” I apologized.
    â€œThe shuttle for the Susie ? I’m on it, too.” The young man stared at me as if there were something astonishing in the fact that we happened to have the same destination. Then he smiled. “Did you ever try to do two things when there was only time for one? I’ve been having to choose between this book, which isn’t in my weight allowance, and this steak, which is probably the last one I’ll ever eat.”
    At this, I was the one to stare. “The last steak you’ll ever eat? Don’t you like it?”
    â€œSure, but I’m on my way back to the Colonies.”
    â€œDon’t they have steak in the Colonies?”
    Startled, he put his fork down again. “We couldn’t raise cattle on Mars. They couldn’t breathe the atmosphere any more than people could, and growing food for them would mean cutting down on more important crops.”
    â€œOh, I didn’t think about that.” I blushed. The idea of a domed, pressurized cattle range was pretty ridiculous, I realized. “Please don’t let us interrupt you,” I said. “Go ahead and finish.”
    I nibbled at my own lunch but as he ate, I watched him. He was a few years older than I was, probably in his early twenties, with wavy brown hair, cut rather short, and gray eyes. And there was something about the way he moved that puzzled me. Very slow and deliberate, as if he were thinking about it.
    â€œAll passengers for the 13:45 shuttle, connecting with the S.S. Susan Constant, check in please,” announced the loudspeakers. “All passengers for the S.S. Susan Constant, bound for Mars, report to gate three to weigh in.”
    â€œThat’s us, I’m afraid,” Dad said, taking a final bite of his sandwich.
    The young man closed his book and laid it down.