By order of the Captain, passengers could sign up Tor a “sightseeing tour.” Charlie’s chance came when they were two weeks out — a climb through accessible parts of the ship, a quick look into the power room, a longer look at the hydroponics gardens which provided fresh air and part of their food, and a ten-second glimpse through the door of the Holy of Holies, the control room, all accompanied by a lecture from a bored junior officer. It was over in two hours and Charlie was again limited to his own, very crowded part of the ship.
Up forward there were privileged passengers, who had staterooms as roomy as those of the officers and who enjoyed the luxury of the officers’ lounge~ Charlie did not find out that they were aboard for almost a month, but when he did, he was righteously indignant.
His father set him straight. “They paid for it.”
“Huh? But we paid, too. Why should they get — ”
“They paid for luxury. Those first-class passengers each paid~ about three times what your ticket cost, or mine. We got the emigrant rate — transportation and food and a place to sleep.”
“I don’t think it’s fair.”
Mr. Vaughn shrugged. “Why should we have something we haven’t paid for’~”
“Uh,…well, Dad, why should they be able to pay for luxuries we can’t afford?”
“A good question. Philosophers ever since Aristotle have struggled with that one. Maybe you’ll tell me, someday.”
“Huh? What do you mean, Dad?”
“Don’t say ‘Huh.’ Chuck, I’m taking you to a brandnew planet. If you try, you can probably get rich. Then maybe you can tell me why a man with money can command luxuries that poor people can’t.”
“But we aren’t poor!”
“No, we are not. But we aren’t rich either. Maybe you’ve got the drive to get rich. One thing is sure: on Venus the opportunities are all around you. Never mind — how about a game before dinner?”
Charlie still resented being shut out of the nicest parts of the ship — he had — never felt like a second-class anything (citizen, or passenger) before in his life; the feeling was not pleasant. He decided to get rich on Venus. He would make the biggest uranium strike in history; then he would ride first class between Venus and Earth whenever he felt like it — that would teach those stuck-up snobs!
He then remembered he had already decided to be a famous spaceman. Well, he would do both. Someday he would own a space line…and one of the ships would be his private yacht. But by the time the Hesperus reached the halfway point he no longer thought about it.
The emigrants saw little of the ship’s crew, but Charlie got acquainted with Slim, the emigrants’ cook. Slim was called so for the reason that cooks usually are; he sampled his own wares all day long and was pear shaped.
Like all space ships, the Hesperus was undermanned except for astrogators and engineers — why hire a cook’s helper when the space can be sold to a passenger? It was cheaper to pay high wages to a cook who could perform production-line miracles without a helper. And Slim could.
But he could use a helper. Charlie’s merit badge in cooking plus a willingness to do as he was told made him Slim’s favorite volunteer assistant. Charlie got from it something to do with his time, sandwiches and snacks whenever he wanted them, and lots of knowledgeable conversation. Slim had not been to college but his curiosity had never dried up; he had read everything worth reading in several ship’s libraries and had kept his eyes open dirtside on every inhabited planet in the Solar System.
“Slim, what’s it like on Venus?”
“Mmm…pretty much like the books say. Rainy. Hot. Not too bad at Borealis, where you’ll land.”
“Yes — but what’s it like?”
“Why not wait and see? Give that stew a stir…and switch on the shortwaver. Did you know that they used to figure that Venus couldn’t be lived on?”
“Huh? No, I didn’t.”
“struth. Back in the days when we didn’t have space flight, scientists were certain that Venus didn’t have either oxygen nor water. They figured it was a desert, with sand storms and no air you could breathe. Proved it, all by scientific logic.”