“We’re not working quite at random.” Maclaren reappeared with a punched tape. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten the principle on which we are searching. We position ourselves in an orbit about the star, follow it for a while, check our position repeatedly, and compute whether the path has been significantly perturbed. If it has been, that’s due to a planet somewhere, and we can do a Leverrier to find that planet. If not—if we’re too far away—we quarter to another arc of the same path and try again. Having exhausted a whole circumference thus, we move outward and try a bigger circle.”
“Shut up!” rasped Ryerson. “I know it! I’m not a schoolboy. But we’re guessing!”
“Not quite,” said Maclaren. “You were occupied with the web when I worked out the secondary principle . . . yes, come to think of it, you never did ask me before. Let me explain. You see, by extrapolating from data on known stellar types, I know approximately what this star was like in its palmy days. From this, planetary formation theory gives me the scale of its onetime system. For instance, its planets must have been more or less in the equatorial plane; such quantities as mass, angular momentum, and magnetic field determine the Bode’s Law constants; to the extent that all this is known, I can draw an orbital map.
“Well, then the star went supernova. Its closer planets were whiffed into gas. The outermost giants would have survived, though badly damaged. But the semimajor axes~ of their orbits were so tremendous—theoretically, planets could have formed as much as a light-year from this star—that even a small percentage of error in the data makes my result uncertain by Astronomical Units. Another factor: the explosion filled this space with gas. We’re actually inside a nonluminous nebula. That would shorten the orbits of the remaining planets; in the
course of millions of years they’ve spiraled far inward. In one way that helps us: we’ve an area to search which is not hopelessly huge. But on the other hand, just how long has it been since the accident? What’s the density distribution of the nebula now, and what was it back then? I’ve taken some readings and made some estimates. All very crude, but—” Maclaren shrugged—”what else can we do? The successive orbits we have been trying are, more or less, those I have calculated for the surviving planets as of today. And, of course, intermediate radii to make sure that we will be measurably perturbed no matter where those planets actually are. It’s just a matter of getting close enough to one of them.”
“If our food lasts,” groaned Ryerson. “And we have to eat while we finish the web, too. Don’t forget that.”
“We’re going to have to reorganize our schedules,” declared Maclaren thoughtfully. “Hitherto we’ve found things to keep us occupied. Now we must wait, and not go crazy waiting.” He grinned. “I hereby declare the Southern Cross dirty limerick contest open and offer a prize of—”
“Yes,” said Ryerson. “Great sport. Fun and games, with Chang Sverdlov’s frozen corpse listening in!”
S
ILENCE clapped down. They heard the air mumble in the ventilators.
“What else can we do with our poor friend?” asked Nakamura softly. “Send him on a test rocket into the black sun? He deserved better of us. Yes-s-s? Let his own people bury him.”
“Bury a copy of him!” shrieked Ryerson. “Of all the senseless—”
“Please,” said Nakamura. He tried to smile. “After all .
it is no trouble to us, and it will comfort his friends at home; maybe yes? After all, speaking in terms of atoms, we do not even wish to send ourselves back. Only copies.” He laughed.
‘Will you stop that giggling!”
“Please.” Nakamura pushed himself away, lifting astonished hands. “Please, if I have offended you, I am so sorry.”
“So sorry! So sorry! Get out of here! Get out, both of you! I’ve seen more of you than I can stand!”
Nakamura started to leave, still bobbing his head, smiling
and hissing in the shaftway. Maclaren launched himself between the other two. He snapped a hand onto either wrist.
“That will do!” They grew suddenly aware, it was shocking, how the eyes burned green in his dark face. His words fell like axes. “Dave, you’re a baby, screaming for mother to come change you. Seiichi, you think it’s enough to make polite noises at the rest of the world. If you ever want to see sunlight again, you’ll both have to mend your ideas.” He shook them a little. “Dave, you’ll keep yourself clean. Seiichi, you’ll dress for dinner and talk with us. Both of you will stop feeling sorry for yourselves and start working to survive. And the next step is to become civilized again. We haven’t got the size, or the time, or the force to beat that star: nothing but manhood. Now go off and start practicing how to be men!”