I shipped out one morning, in cryosleep while in ascent,
The bar was busy that night, crowded with construction workers and military personnel all looking for a drink. On the stage, away from the seating and the bustling bar counters, the band played on.
I shipped out one morning, across Solar System I sped,
They were all a sturdy lot, resilient to liquor and its intoxicating effects. The various augmentations made to their body for suspended animation for the travel, and life on Mars, left them drinking for the taste of it.
I’ve got the Red Planet Blues, ever since I made descent!
She sat at a bar counter, staring at the photograph in her hand. It was a common sight, those pining for the people they left behind. It was her parents and her baby sister in that photo. The money she earned on Mars helped them to live, but it was too long between calls, and with little chance of going back home for years. There was too much construction to be done on priority projects before the civilian space ports would be up and running.
I looked out that morning, over the pale sun day,
They lived in the domes, and worked in and around them. Life outside was harsh, the sun seeming so very distant. It was far away, but out on the edge of inhabited space, it just seemed so much farther from them.
I looked out that morning, a delivery was on its way,
Regular deliveries came from Earthspace. One-way ships packed to the brim with supplies and construction materials. Once empty, the freight ships were then used for material. Nothing was wasted in space. They couldn’t afford to waste anything.
I’ve got the Red Planet Blues, and I know they won’t go away.
Gulping back the last of her drink, she pushed her stool back and vacated the table. She only got one bar night per week, but she had the Red Planet Blues already. She didn’t care for more.