"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 Kwik-Kure?"
"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 Pentagon-it 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."
"I just can't see," Rod answered irrelevantly, "how I could be so wrong. It was a logical certainty."
"Forget it," Jack advised. "My analytics instructor says that all logic is mere tautology. She says it is impossible to learn anything through logic that you did not already know."
"Then what use is logic?" Rod demanded.
"Ask me an easy one. Look, partner, I'm dead for sleep; I want to turn in."
"All right. But, Jack, if this isn't Africa- and I've got to admit it isn't- what do we do? They've gone off and left us."
"Do? We do what we've been doing. Eat, sleep, stay alive. This is a listed planet; if we just keep breathing, someday somebody will show up. It might be just a power breakdown; they may pick us tomorrow."
"In that case, then-"
"In that case, let's shut up and go to sleep."
6. "I Think He Is Dead"
Rod was awakened by heavenly odors. he rolled over, blinked at light streaming under the overhang, managed by great effort to put himself back into the matrix of the day before. Jack, he saw, was squatting by a tiny fire on the edge of the shelf; the wonderful fragrance came from toasting liver.
Rod got to his knees, discovering that he was slightly stiff from having fought dream stobor in his sleep. These nightmare stobor were bug-eyed monsters fit for a planet suddenly strange and threatening. Nevertheless he had had a fine night's sleep and his spirits could not be daunted in the presence of the tantalizing aroma drifting in.
Jack looked up. "I thought you were going to sleep all day. Brush your teeth, comb your hair, take a quick shower, and get on out here. Breakfast is ready." Jack looked him over again. "Better shave, too."
Rod grinned and ran his hand over his chin. "You're jealous of my manly beard, youngster. Wait a year or two and you'll find out what a nuisance it is. Shaving, the common cold, and taxes... my old man says those are the three eternal problems the race is never going to lick." Rod felt a twinge at the thought of his parents, a stirring of conscience that he had not thought of them in he could not remember how long. "Can I help, pal?"
"Sit down and grab the salt. This piece is for you."
"Let's split it."
"Eat and don't argue. I'll fix me some." Rod accepted the charred and smoky chunk, tossed it in his hands and blew on it. He looked around for salt. Jack Was slicing a second piece; Rod's eyes passed over the operation then whipped back.
The knife Jack was using was "Colonel Bowie."
The realization was accompanied by action; Rod's hand darted out and caught Jack's wrist in an anger-hard grip. "You stole my knife!"
Jack did not move. "Rod... have you gone crazy?"
"You slugged me and stole my knife."
Jack made no attempt to fight, nor even to struggle. "You aren't awake yet, Rod. Your knife is on your belt. This is another knife... mine.
Rod did not bother to look down. "The one I'm wearing is Lady Macbeth. I mean the knife you're using, Colonel Bowie- my knife."
"Let go my wrist."
"Drop it!"
"Rod....ou can probably make me drop this knife. You're bigger and you've got the jump on me. But yesterday you teamed with me. You're busting that team right now. If you don't let go right away, the team is broken. Then you'll have to kill me... because if you don't, I'll trail you. I'll keep on trailing you until I find you asleep. Then you've had it."