Gillbret said, "Statistics show that one out of three stars has a planetary system."
Biron nodded. It was a well-worn statistic. Every child was taught that in elementary Galactography.
Gillbret went on, "That means that the chances of finding three stars at random without a single planet-without one single planet-is two thirds cubed, which is eight twenty-sevenths, or less than one in three."
"So?"
"And we haven't found any. There must be a mistake."
"You saw the plates yourself. And, besides, what price statistics? For all we know, conditions are different inside a Nebula. Maybe the particle fog prevents planets from forming, or maybe the fog is the result of planets that didn't coalesce."
"You don't mean that?" said Gillbret, stricken.
"You're right. I'm just talking to hear myself. I don't know anything about cosmogony. Why the hell are planets formed, anyway? Never heard of one that wasn't filled with trouble." Biron looked haggard himself. He was still printing and pasting up little stickers on the control panels.
He said, "Anyway, we've got the blasters all worked out, range finders, power control-all that."
It was very difficult not to look at the visiplate. They'd be Jumping again soon, through that ink.
Biron said absently, "You know why they call it the Horsehead Nebula, Gil?"
"The first man to enter it was Horace Hedd. Are you going to tell me that's wrong?"
"It may be. They have a different explanation on Earth."
"Oh?"
"They claim it's called that because it looks like a horse's head."
"What's a horse?"
"It's an animal on Earth."
"It's an amusing thought, but the Nebula doesn't look like any animal to me, Biron."
"It depends on the angle you look at it. Now from Nephelos it looks like a man's arm with three fingers, but I looked at it once from the observatory at the University of Earth. It does look a little like a horse's head. Maybe that is how the name started. Maybe there never was any Horace Hedd. Who knows?" Biron felt bored with the matter, already. He was still talking simply to hear himself talk.
There was a pause, a pause that lasted too long, because it gave Gillbret a chance to bring up a subject which Biron did not wish to discuss and could not force himself to stop thinking about.
Gillbret said, "Where's Arta?"
Biron looked at him quickly and said, "Somewhere in the trailer. I don't follow her about."
"The Autarch does. He might as well be living here."
"How lucky for her."
Gillbret's wrinkles became more pronounced and his small features seemed to screw together. "Oh, don't be a fool, Biron. Artemisia is a Hinriad. She can't take what you've been giving her."
Biron said, "Drop it."
"I won't. I've been spoiling to say this. Why are you doing this to her? Because Hinrik might have been responsible for your father's death? Hinrik is my cousin! You haven't changed toward me."
"All right," Biron said. "I haven't changed toward you. I speak to you as I always have. I speak to Artemisia as well."
"As you always have?"
Biron was silent.
Gillbret said, "You're throwing her at the Autarch. "
"It's her choice."
"It isn't. It's your choice. Listen, Biron"-Gillbret grew confidential; he put a hand on Biron's knee-"this isn't a thing I like to interfere with, you understand. It's just that she's the only good thing in the Hinriad family just ROW. Would you be amused if I said I loved her? I have no children of my own."
"I don't question your love."
"Then I advise you for her good. Stop the Autarch, Biron."
"I thought you trusted him, Oil."
"As the Autarch, yes. As an anti-Tyrannian leader, yes. But as a man for a woman, as a man for Artemisia, no."
"Tell her that."
"She wouldn't listen."
"Do you think she would listen if I told her?"
"If you told her properly."
For a moment Biron seemed to hesitate, his tongue dabbing slightly at dry lips. Then he turned away, saying harshly, "I don't want to talk about it."
Gillbret said sadly, "You'll regret this."
Biron said nothing. Why didn't Gillbret leave him alone? It had occurred to him many times that he might regret all this. It wasn't easy. But what could he do? There was no safe way of backing out.
He tried breathing through his mouth to get rid, somehow, of the choking sensation in his chest.
The outlook was different after the next Jump. Biron had set the controls in accordance with the instructions from the Autarch's pilot, and left the manuals to Gillbret. He was going to sleep through this one. And then Gillbret was shaking his shoulder.
"Biron! Biron!"
Biron rolled over in his bunk and out, landing in a crouch, fists balled. "What is it?"
Gillbret stepped back hastily. "Now, take it easy. We've got an F-2 this time."
It sank in. Gillbret drew a deep breath and relaxed. "Don't ever wake me that way, Gillbret. An F-2, you say? I suppose you're referring to the new star."
"I surely am. It looks most amusing, I think."
In a way, it did. Approximately 95 per cent of habitable planets in the Galaxy circled stars of spectral types F or G; diameter from 750 to 1500 thousand miles, surface temperature from five to ten thousand centigrade. Earth's sun was G-0, Rhodia's F-8, Lingane's G-2, as was that of Nephelos. F-2 was a little warm, but not too warm.
The first three stars they had stopped at were of spectral type K, rather small and ruddy. Planets would probably not have been decent even if they had had any.