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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
129
"I've
heard
about
those
triplex
boosters,"
the
man
said.
"Tremendous
things."
"They're
adequate,"
Barrent
said
judiciously.
He
was
certain
now
that
this
man
was
just
what
he
purported
to
be:
a
citizen
with
no
particular
knowledge
of
spacecraft
simply
bringing
his
son
to
the
starport.
"How
do
you
get
enough
air?"
Ronny
asked.
"We
generate
our
own,"
Barrent
said.
"But
air
isn't
any
trouble.
Water's
the
big
problem.
Water
isn't
compressible,
you
know.
It's
hard
to
store
in
sufficient
quantities.
And
then
there's
the
navigation
problem
when
the
ship
emerges
from
subspace."
"What
is
subspace?"
Ronny
asked.
"In
effect,"
Barrent
said,
"it's
simply
a
different
level
of
real
space.
But
you
can
find
all
that
in
your
encyclopedia."
"Of
course
you
can,
Ronny,"
the
boy's
father
said.
"We
mustn't
keep
the
pilot
standing
here.
I'm
sure
he
has
many
important
things
to
do."
"I
am
rather
rushed,"
Barrent
said.
"Look
around
all
you
want.
Good
luck
on
your
thesis,
Ronny."
Barrent
walked
for
fifty
yards,
his
spine
tingling,
expecting
momentarily
to
feel
the
blow
of
a
needlebeam
or
a
shotgun.
But
when
he
looked
back,
the
father
and
son
were
turned
away
from
him,
earnestly
studying
the
great
vessel.
Barrent
hesitated
a
moment,
deeply
bothered.
So
far,
the
whole
thing
had
been
entirely
too
easy.
Suspiciously
easy.
But
there
was
nothing
he
could
do
but
go
on.
The
road
from
the
starport
led
past
a
row
of
storage
sheds
to
a
section
of
woods.
Barrent
walked
until
he
was
out
of
sight.
Then
he
left
the
road
and
went
into
the
woods.
He
had
had
enough
contact
with
people
for
his
first
day
on
Earth.
He
didn't
want
to
stretch
his
luck.
He
wanted
to
think
things
over,
sleep
in
the
woods
for
the
night,
and
then
in
the
morning
go
to
a
city
or
town.
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