d be expensive. And then there was the matter of food. He'd have to
stay hidden until the spaceship took off and there was no turning back,
and at the thought of crouching in some dark hold, motionless for hours,
cramped, and _with an empty stomach_--

He wasn't going to starve himself. Even Comets Carter couldn't have gone
without eating and got very far in his pursuit of Rogan. Plato would
have to acquire money for flight, fare and food.

The book, of course, he couldn't think of selling. It was only a
decicredit novel in the first place, and somewhat worn at that. And the
other students would have laughed at him for reading it. But his
infra-red bedside lamp and his goggles and the space-receptor radio he
had built out of spare parts--those should bring him enough to travel
and live on for a few days.

He made his first sale in the free time that evening, to a young squirt
in the neighboring dormitory who had a passion akin to his own. He liked
to listen to tales of high adventure, of the kind the radiocasters loved
and the teachers in the school frowned upon. Having arrived here from
Earth only six months before, he had difficulty adjusting to the type of
derring-do featured on the Venus stations, and he lacked a
space-receptor that would bring him his favorites from the next planet.
He snapped up, at the bargain price of ten credits, the receptor that
Plato offered.

There was a little difficulty with the infra-red lamp and goggles. The
customer Plato had selected turned out to be rather suspicious. He
demanded, "Where did you steal them?"

Plato explained patiently, "I didn't steal them. I made them myself."

"That's a lot of hot oxo-nitrogen. You hooked them some place, and if
they ever find out--"

"Okay," said Plato, "if you don't want them, you don't have to take
them. I can sell them to somebody else."

He allowed the young skeptic to try the goggles on and read by the light
of the lamp. He knew little of the psychology of salesmanship, but with
what might be called Platonic shrewdness, he sensed that once the
prospect had experienced the joys of using the magic articles, he would
never give them up.

The method worked. And soon Plato was richer by fifteen credits, instead
of the ten or twelve he had hoped for.

He had a few other odds and ends, which he sold for as much as they
would bring. After all, once he was out in space, he wouldn't need them
any more.

* * * *