There were better planets in the galaxy, he decided two hours later.
Thousands of them.

For one thing, it was a small, but dense world, with a surface gravity
of one point two standard gees--not enough to be disabling, but enough
to make a man feel sluggish. For another, its main export was farm
products: there were very few large towns on Viornis, and no center of
population that could really be called a city. Even here, at the
spaceport, the busiest and largest town on the planet, the population
was less than a million. It was a "new" world, with a history that
didn't stretch back more than two centuries. With the careful population
control exercised by the ruling Execs, it would probably remain small
and provincial for another half millennium.

The Guesser moseyed down one of the streets of Bellinberg probably named
after the first Prime Executive of the planet--looking for a decent
place for a spaceman to have a drink. It was evening, and the sinking of
the yellow primary below the western horizon had left behind it a clear,
star-filled sky that filled the air with a soft, white radiance. The
streets of the town itself were well-lit by bright glow-plates imbedded
in the walls of the buildings, but above the street level, the buildings
themselves loomed darkly. Occasionally, an Exec's aircar would drift
rapidly overhead with a soft rush of air, and, in the distance, he could
see the shimmering towers of the Executive section rising high above the
eight- or ten-storyed buildings that made up the majority of Bellinberg.

The streets were fairly crowded with strollers--most of them Class Four
or Five citizens who stepped deferentially aside as soon as they saw his
uniform, and kept their eyes averted from him. Now and then, the power
car of a Class Three rolled swiftly by, and The Guesser felt a slight
twinge of envy. Technically, his own rank was the equivalent of Class
Three, but he had never owned a groundcar. What need had a spaceman of a
groundcar? Still, it would be nice to drive one just once, he thought;
it would be a new experience, certainly.

Right now, though, he was looking for a Class Three bar; just a place to
have a small, quiet drink and a bite to eat. He had a perfect right to
go into a lower class bar, of course, but he had never felt quite
comfortable associating with his inferiors in such a manner, and
certainly they would feel nervous in his presence because of the sidearm
at his hip.

No o