There wasn't, and they lounged on a piece of canvas in the blackened blast area.

The band-radio around Pete's shoulder pulsed gently. He dialed it up.

"I know where you are, Peter. I want you back here right this instant. Your mother and I both..."He dialed off. "Anything else I can do for you, Murph?" "Well--you might go to Rannel's store, after awhile, and get me a couple packs of self-lights. I'm about out of smokes." "Be glad to." Pete basked in the shared male moments. "What was it you were telling me about hyperspace yesterday?" Murph told him more about hyperspace, the untapped dimension which had to exist, the magic hole in space into which a ship would slip someday and emerge not in new systems but new galaxies. "When we find hyperspace and get the photon drive--then we'll really be making it." "Think we ever will?" "Sure we will." That was it. Sure we will. He lay and gazed into the sky. How far did it go? Someday he would be up there. The radio pulsed again, and he told himself he didn't feel it. He rolled around and looked at Murph. He might as well ask his important question. "Murph--are you gonna take me up?" "Shoot, kid, I can't burn juice just taking one guy for a joyride." "How about if you get a full load except one? Couldn't I sit in?" Murph thought about it. "Well, you've been a lot of help and company, and you're a smart kid, too. I'll do it." Pete didn't do anything so childish as leaping into the air but he allowed himself to walk over and stroke the alluring flanks of the Hester. He felt wonderful. And around the hull of the rocket strode his mother. "Why didn't you answer us?" "Gosh--did you call me? Maybe my radio isn't working." She dialed and spoke into it. His grandmother answered. "I've got him," said his mother, and dialed down. She took him by the arm and shook him. "Come along!" "That's scranny! I've got to get Murph cigarettes! He's going to take me up! Ain't that right, Murph?" Murph had scrambled up, red and apologetic. "I'm sorry, lady--I didn't know you wanted him home. I'm really sorry." "You idiot!" was all she said, flouncing by him with Pete held by the arm. She shook Pete more and more angrily as they half ran toward home. Then suddenly he felt her trembling all over, and she broke into tears. She held him to her fiercely and suffocatingly. "They're _not_ going to get you. You're going to promise!" Bewildered and a little frightened, he pushed his head against her like a stubborn calf and was silent. He felt a little chastened by the time they arrived home, but then things blew up again. Grammy pulled the trigger. Smiling, she hugged him and said, "Cheer up, Pete--tomorrow's the picnic on Indian Hill." 

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