“Therefore our whole endeavor, the risks we take in this fantastic dive straight through the galaxy and out into intergalactic space, it is all an exercise in futility. Quod erat demonstrandum.”

“Among your many loathsome characteristics, Nilsson,” Reymont said, “is your habit of droning the obvious through your nose.”

“Madame!” the astronomer gasped. “I protest! I shall file charges of personal abuse!”

“Cut back,” Lindgren ordered. “Both of you. I must admit your conduct offers provocation, Professor Nilsson. On the other hand, Constable, may I remind you that Professor Nilsson is one of the most distinguished men in his vocation that Earth has… Earth had. He deserves respect.”

“Not the way he behaves,” Reymont said. “Or smells.”

“Be polite, Constable, or I’ll charge you myself.” Lindgren drew breath. “You don’t seem to make allowance for humanness. We are adrift in space and time; the world we knew is a hundred thousand years in its grave; we are rushing nearly blind into the most crowded part of the galaxy; we may at any minute strike something that will destroy us; at best, we must look forward to years in a cramped and barren environment. Don’t you expect people to react to that?”

“Yes, madame, I do,” Reymont said. “I do not expect them to behave so as to make matters worse.”

“There is some truth in that,” Lindgren conceded.

Nilsson squirmed and looked sulky. “I was trying to spare them disappointment at the end of this flight,” he muttered.

“Are you absolutely certain you weren’t indulging your ego?” Lindgren sighed. “Never mind. Your standpoint is legitimate.”

“No, it isn’t,” Reymont contradicted. “He gets his 1 per cent by counting every star. But obviously we aren’t going to bother with red dwarfs— the vast majority— or blue giants or anything outside a fairly narrow spectral range. Which reduces the field of search by a whopping factor.”

“Make the factor ten,” Nilsson said. “I don’t really believe that, but let’s postulate we have a 10 per cent probability of finding Nova Terra at any one of the Sol-type stars we try. That nevertheless requires us to hunt among five to get our even chance. Ten years? More like twenty, all things considered. The youngest among us will be getting past his youth. The loss of so many reproductive opportunities means a corresponding loss of heredity; and our gene pool is minimal to start with. If we wait several decades to beget children, we can’t beget enough. Few will be grown to self-sufficiency by the time their parents start becoming helpless with advancing age. And in any case, the human stock will die out in three or four generations. I know something about genetic drift, you see.”

His expression grew smug. “I didn’t wish to hurt feelings,” he said. “My desire was to help, by showing your concept of a bold pioneer community, planting humankind afresh in a new galaxy… showing that for the infantile fantasy which it is.”

“Have you an alternative?” Lindgren inquired.