A tic began in Nilsson’s face. “Nothing but realism,” he said. “Acceptance of the fact that we will never leave this ship. Adjustment of our behavior to that fact.”

“Is it the reason you’ve been soldiering on the job?” Reymont demanded.

“I dislike your term, sir, but it is true there is no point in building equipment for long-range navigation. We are not going anywhere that makes any difference. I cannot even get enthusiatic about Fedoroff’s and Pereira’s proposals concerning the life support systems.”

“You understand, I suppose,” Reymont said, “that for maybe half the people aboard, the logical thing to do once they’ve decided you’re right, is to commit suicide.”

“Possibly.” Nilsson shrugged.

“Do you hate life so much yourself?” Lindgren asked.

Nilsson half got up and fell down again. He gobbled. Reymont surprised both his listeners by turning soft-mannered:

“I didn’t fetch you here only to get your gloom-peddling stopped. I’d rather know why you haven’t been thinking how to improve our chances.”

“How can they be?”

“That’s what I want to learn from you. You’re the observational expert. As I recall, you were in charge of programs back home which located something like fifty planetary systems. You actually identified individual planets, and typed them, across light-years. Why can’t you do the same for us?”

Nilsson pounced. “Ridiculous! I see that I must explain the topic in kindergarten terms. Will you bear with me, First Officer? Pay attention, Constable.

“Granted, an extremely large space-borne instrument can pick out an object the size of Jupiter at a distance of several parsecs. This is provided the object gets good illumination without becoming lost in the glare of its sun. Granted, by mathematical analysis of perturbation data gathered over a period of years, some idea can be obtained about companion planets which are too small to photograph. Ambiguities in the equations can, to a degree, be resolved by close interferometric study of flare-type phenomena on the star; planets do exert a minor influence upon those cycles.

“But” —his finger prodded Reymont’s chest— “you do not realize how uncertain those results are. Journalists delighted in trumpeting that another Earthlike world had been discovered. The fact always was, however, that this was one possible interpretation of our data. Only one among numerous possible size and orbit distributions. And subject to a gross probable error. And this, mind you, with the largest, finest instruments which could be constructed. Instruments such as we do not have with us here, nor have room for if we could somehow build them.

“No, even at home, me sole way to get detailed information about extrasolar planets was to send a probe and later a manned expedition. In our case, the sole way is to decelerate for a close survey. And thereafter, I am convinced, to go on. Because you must be aware that a planet which otherwise seems ideal can be sterile or can have a native biochemistry that is useless or outright deadly to us.

“I implore you, Constable, to learn a little science, a little logic, and a bare touch of realism. Eh?” Nilsson ended with a crow of triumph.