They came in low, decelerating against dense air, while the passengers talked, and laughed, and pressed their faces against the observation ports. In the ship's lounge, a squawk box crackled ... "Twenty minutes," a mechanical voice said ... "We land on Centauri IV in twenty minutes ... Passengers for Orion, Antares, Cygni, and Polaris, have your transfers ready." Everyone laughed. The speaker clicked and went dead. And the boy who'd been gripping Claude Marshall's arm looked up. "What's he mean,