“You make it sound too simple,” Jack said slowly.
“Oh, we’ll have our troubles. But we can do it, now that we know what to do. I didn’t want to bring this up before, but do you have salt enough to cure a few kilos of meat? If we did not have to hunt every day, we could travel faster. Or maybe you brought some KwikKure?”
“I did, but”
“Good!”
“Wait a minute, Rod. That won’t do.”
“Huh? We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“Take it easy. Look, Rod, everything you said is logical, but”
“No ‘buts’ about it.”
“It’s logical . . . but it’s all wrong!”
“Huh? Now, listen, Jack”
“You listen. You’ve done all the talking so far.”
“But Well, all right, say your say.”
“You said that the sky would give it away, so they threw an overcast over the area.
“Yes. That’s what they must have done, nights at least. They wouldn’t risk natural weather; it might give the show away.
“What I’m trying to tell you is that it did give the show away. It hasn’t been overcast every night, though maybe you were in deep forest and missed the few times it has been clear. But I’ve seen the night sky, Rod. I’ve seen stars.
“So? Well?”
“They aren’t our stars, Rod. I’m sorry.”
Rod chewed his lip. “You probably don’t know southern constellations very well?” he suggested.
“I knew the Southern Cross before I could read. These aren’t our stars, Rod; I know. There is a pentagon of bright stars above where the sun sets; there is nothing like that to be seen from Earth. And besides, anybody would recognise Luna, if it was there.”
Rod tried to remember what phase the Moon should be in. He gave up, as he had only a vague notion of elapsed time. “Maybe the Moon was down?”
“Not a chance. I didn’t see our Moon, Rod, but I saw moons . . two of them, little ones and moving fast, like the moons of Mars.”
“You don’t mean this is Mars?” Rod said scornfully.
“Think I’m crazy? Anyhow, the stars from Mars are exactly like the stars from Earth. Rod, what are we jawing about? It was beginning to clear when the sun went down; let’s crawl out and have a look. Maybe you’ll believe your eyes.
Rod shut up and followed Jack. From inside nothing was visible but dark trees across the stream, but from the edge of the shelf part of the sky could be seen. Rod lookedup and blinked.
“Mind the edge,” Jack warned softly.
Rod did not answer. Framed by the ledge above him and by tree tops across the stream was a pattern of six stars, a lopsided pentagon with a star in its center. The six stars were as bright and unmistakable as the seven stars of Earth’s Big Dipper . . . nor did it take a degree in astrography to know that this constellation had never been seen from Terra.
Rod stared while the hard convictions he had formed fell in ruins. He felt lost and alone. The trees across the way seemed frightening. He turned to Jack, his cocky sophistication gone. “You’ve convinced me,” he said dully. “What do we do now?”
Jack did not answer.
“Well?” Rod insisted. “No good standing here.”
“Rod,” Jack answered, “that star in the middle of the Pentagonit wasn’t there before.”
“Huh? You probably don’t remember.”
“No, no, I’m sure! Rod, you know what? We’re seeing a nova.”
Rod was unable to arouse the pure joy of scientific discovery; his mind was muddled with reorganizing his personal universe. A mere stellar explosion meant nothing. “Probably one of your moonlets.”
“Not a chance. The moons are big enough to show disks. It’s a nova; it has to be. What amazing luck to see one!”
“I don’t see anything lucky about it,” Rod answered moodily. “It doesn’t mean anything to us. It’s probably a hundred light years away, maybe more.”
“Yes, but doesn’t it thrill you?”
“No.” He stooped down and went inside. Jack took another look, then followed.
There was silence, moody on Rod’s part. At last Jack said, “Think I’ll turn in.”