The Status Civilization

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The starship landed at noon on a brilliant sunlit day, somewhere onEarth's North American continent. Barrent had planned on waiting fordarkness before leaving; but the control room screens flashed an ancientand ironic warning: _All passengers and crew must disembark at once.Ship rigged for full decontamination procedure. Twenty minutes._

  He didn't know what was meant by full decontamination procedure. Butsince the crew was emphatically ordered to leave, a respirator might notprovide much safety. Of the two dangers, leaving the ship seemed thelesser.

  The members of Group Two had given a good deal of thought to theclothing Barrent would wear upon debarkation. Those first minutes onEarth might be crucial. No cunning could help him if his clothing wasobviously strange, outlandish, alien. Typical Earth clothing was theanswer; but the Group wasn't sure what the citizens of Earth wore. Onepart of the Group had wanted Barrent to dress in their reconstructedapproximation of civilian dress. Another part felt that the guard'suniform he had worn on board would see him through his arrival on Earthas well. Barrent himself had agreed with a third opinion, which feltthat a mechanic's one-piece coverall would be least noticeable around aspacefield, and suffer the least change of style over the years. In thetowns and cities, this disguise might put him at a disadvantage; but hehad to meet one problem at a time.

  He quickly stripped off his guard's uniform. Underneath he wore thelightweight coveralls. His needlebeam concealed, a collapsible lunchboxin his hand, Barrent walked down the corridor to the landing stage. Hehesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave the weapon on theship. He decided not to part with it. An inspection would reveal himanyhow; with the needlebeam he would have a chance of breaking away frompolice.

  He took a deep breath and marched out of the ship and down the landingstage.

  There were no guards, no inspection party, no police, no army units andno customs officials. There was no one at all. Far to one side of thewide field he could see rows of starcraft glistening in the sun.Straight ahead of him was a fence, and in it was an open gate.

  Barrent walked across the field, quickly but without obvious haste. Hehad no idea why it was all so simple. Perhaps the secret police on Earthhad more subtle means of checking on passengers from starships.

  He reached the gate. There was no one there except a bald, middle-agedman and a boy of perhaps ten. They seemed to be waiting for him. Barrentfound it hard to believe that these were government officials; still,who knew the ways of Earth? He passed through the gate.

  The bald man, holding the boy by the hand, walked over to him. "I begyour pardon," the man said.

  "Yes?"

  "I saw you come from the starship. Would you mind if I ask you a fewquestions?"

  "Not at all," Barrent said, his hand near the coverall zipper beneathwhich lay his needlebeam. He was certain now that the bald man was apolice agent. The only thing that didn't make sense was the presence ofthe child, unless the boy was an agent-in-training.

  "The fact of the matter is," the man said, "my boy Ronny here is doing athesis for his Tenth Grade Master's Degree. On starships."

  "So I wanted to see one," Ronny said. He was an undersized child with apinched, intelligent face.

  "He wanted to see one," the man explained. "I told him it wasn'tnecessary, since all the facts and pictures are in the encyclopedia. Buthe wanted to see one."

  "It gives me a good opening paragraph," Ronny said.

  "Of course," Barrent said, nodding vigorously. He was beginning towonder about the man. For a member of the secret police, he wascertainly taking a devious route.

  "You work on the ships?" Ronny asked.

  "That's right."

  "How fast do they go?"

  "In real or subspace?" Barrent asked.

  This question seemed to throw Ronny off his stride. He pushed out hislower lip and said, "Gee, I didn't know they went in subspace." Hethought for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I don't think I know whatsubspace is."

  Barrent and the boy's father smiled understandingly.

  "Well," Ronny said, "how fast do they go in real space?"

  "A hundred thousand miles an hour," Barrent said, naming the firstfigure that came into his head.

  The boy nodded, and his father nodded. "Very fast," the father said.

  "And much faster in subspace of course," Barrent said.

  "Of course," the man said. "Starships are very fast indeed. They have tobe. Quite long distances involved. Isn't that right, sir?"

  "Very long distances," Barrent said.

  "How is the ship powered?" Ronny asked.

  "In the usual way," Barrent told him. "We had triplex boosters installedlast year, but that comes more under the classification of auxiliarypower."

  "I've heard about those triplex boosters," the man said. "Tremendousthings."

  "They're adequate," Barrent said judiciously. He was certain now thatthis man was just what he purported to be: a citizen with no particularknowledge 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'sthe big problem. Water isn't compressible, you know. It's hard to storein sufficient quantities. And then there's the navigation problem whenthe 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 thepilot standing here. I'm sure he has many important things to do."

  "I _am_ rather rushed," Barrent said. "Look around all you want. Goodluck on your thesis, Ronny."

  Barrent walked for fifty yards, his spine tingling, expectingmomentarily to feel the blow of a needlebeam or a shotgun. But when helooked back, the father and son were turned away from him, earnestlystudying 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 sectionof woods. Barrent walked until he was out of sight. Then he left theroad and went into the woods. He had had enough contact with people forhis first day on Earth. He didn't want to stretch his luck. He wanted tothink things over, sleep in the woods for the night, and then in themorning go to a city or town.

  He pushed his way past dense underbrush into the forest proper. Here hewalked through shaded groves of giant oaks. All around him was the chirpand bustle of unseen bird and animal life. Far in front of him was alarge white sign nailed to a tree. Barrent reached it, and read:FORESTDALE NATIONAL PARK. PICNICKERS AND CAMPERS WELCOME.

  Barrent was a little disappointed, even though he realized that therewould be no virgin wilderness so near a starport. In fact, on a planetas old and as highly developed as Earth, there was probably no virginland at all, except what had been preserved in national forests.

  The sun was low on the horizon, and there was a chill in the longshadows thrown across the forest floor. Barrent found a comfortable spotunder a gigantic oak, arranged leaves for a bed, and lay down. He had agreat deal to think about. Why, for example, hadn't guards been postedat Earth's most important contact point, an interstellar terminus? Didsecurity measures start later at the towns and cities? Or was he alreadyunder some sort of surveillance, some infinitely subtle spy system thatfollowed his every movement and apprehended him only when ready? Or wasthat too fanciful? Could it be that--?

  "Good evening," a voice said, close to his right ear.

  Barrent flung himself away from the voice in a spasm of nervousreaction, his hand diving for his needlebeam.

  "And a very pleasant evening it is," the voice continued, "here inForestdale National Park. The temperature is seventy-eight point twodegrees Fahrenheit, humidity 23 per cent, barometer steady attwenty-nine point nine. Old campers, I'm sure,
already recognize myvoice. For the new nature-lovers among you, let me introduce myself. Iam Oaky, your friendly oak tree. I'd like to welcome all of you, oldand new, to your friendly national forest."

  Sitting upright in the gathering darkness, Barrent peered around,wondering what kind of a trick this was. The voice really did seem tocome from the giant oak tree.

  "The enjoyment of nature," said Oaky, "is now easy and convenient foreveryone. You can enjoy complete seclusion and still be no more than aten-minute walk from public transportation. For those who do not desireseclusion, we have guided tours at nominal cost through these ancientglades. Remember to tell your friends about your friendly national park.The full facilities of this park are waiting for all lovers of the greatoutdoors."

  A panel in the tree opened. Out slid a bedroll, a Thermos bottle, and abox supper.

  "I wish you a pleasant evening," said Oaky, "amid the wild splendor ofnature's wonderland. And now the National Symphony Orchestra under thedirection of Otter Krug brings you 'The Upland Glades,' by ErnestoNestrichala, recorded by the National North American BroadcastingCompany. This is your friendly oak tree signing off."

  Music emanated from several hidden speakers. Barrent scratched his head;then, deciding to take matters as they came, he ate the food, drankcoffee from the Thermos, unrolled the bedroll, and lay down.

  Sleepily he contemplated the notion of a forest wired for sound,equipped with food and drink, and none of it more than ten minutes frompublic transportation. Earth certainly did a lot for her citizens.Presumably they liked this sort of thing. Or did they? Could this besome huge and subtle trap which the authorities had set for him?

  He tossed and turned for a while, trying to get used to the music. Aftera while it blended into the background of windblown leaves and creakingbranches. Barrent went to sleep.