The Passenger - Kenneth Harmon - Bog

The classic route to a man's heart is through his stomach --and she was just his dish. The transport swung past Centaurus on the last leg of her long journey to Sol. There was no flash, no roar as she swept across the darkness of space. As silent as a ghost, as quiet as a puff of moonlight she moved, riding the gravitational fields that spread like tangled, invisible spider webs between the stars.