Free The Philip K. Dick Megapack by Philip K Dick Page A

go—But Mars will not allow her enemies to escape. The three saboteurs will be caught, I promise you.” He rubbed his dark jaw thoughtfully. “It is strange. I was certain they were on this ship.”
    Again he looked coldly around at the Terrans.
    “Perhaps I was wrong. All right, proceed! But remember: the three will be caught, even if it takes endless years. Mars will catch them and punish them! I swear it!”
    * * * *
    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.”
    “Mara? That’s a nice name. What part of Terra are you from? North America? New York?”
    “I’ve been in New York,” Mara said. “New York is very lovely.” She was slender and pretty, with a cloud of dark hair tumbling down her neck, against her leather jacket.
    They entered the lounge and stood undecided.
    “Let’s sit at a table,” Mara said, looking around at the people at the bar, mostly men. “Perhaps that table over there.”
    “But someone’s there already,” Thacher said. The heavy-set business man had sat down at the table and deposited his sample case on the floor. “Do we want to sit with him ?”
    “Oh, it’s all right,” Mara said, crossing to the table. “May we sit here?” she said to the man.
    The man looked up, half-rising. “It’s a pleasure,” he murmured. He studied Thacher intently. “However, a friend of mine will be joining me in a moment.”
    “I’m sure there’s room enough for us all,” Mara said. She seated herself and Thacher helped her with her chair. He sat down, too, glancing up suddenly at Mara and the business man. They were looking at each other almost as if something had passed between them. The man was middle-aged, with a florid face and tired, grey eyes. His hands were mottled with the veins showing thickly. At the moment he was tapping nervously.
    “My name’s Thacher,” Thacher said to him, holding out his hand. “Bob Thacher. Since we’re going to be together for a while we might as well get to know each other.”
    The man studied him. Slowly his hand came out. “Why not? My name’s Erickson. Ralf Erickson.”
    “Erickson?” Thacher smiled. “You look like a commercial man, to me.” He nodded toward the sample case on the floor. “Am I right?”
    The man named Erickson started to answer, but at that moment there was a stir. A thin man of about thirty had come up to the table, his eyes bright, staring down at them warmly. “Well, we’re on our way,” he said to Erickson.
    “Hello, Mara.” He pulled out a chair and sat down quickly, folding his hands on the table before him. He noticed Thacher and drew back a little. “Pardon me,” he murmured.
    “Bob Thacher is my name,” Thacher said. “I hope I’m not intruding here.” He glanced around at the three of them, Mara, alert, watching him intently, heavy-set Erickson, his face blank, and this person. “Say, do you three know each other?” he asked suddenly.
    There was silence.
    The robot attendant slid over soundlessly, poised to take their orders. Erickson roused himself. “Let’s see,” he murmured. “What will we have? Mara?”
    “Whiskey and