Trajectory to Taurus

Fred was surprised to find himself in the ship's control center. The hugeness of Captain John Charlesworth was bent over a star chart. Charlesworth was a big, solid man who loved living. He had taught Fred practically everything there was to know about operating the ship--with automation being what it was, he was able to do it in the three days they'd been traveling. The two men were friends from the time they'd been introduced, so perhaps it wasn't strange that Fred should be here.

"John," Fred began without preamble, "there's something about that planet--"

Charlesworth's face split into a grin. "There sure is! Beauty, isn't she? Thought you'd like it. If we find life, it'll be there."

Fred was caught short. It was another strike against him. Some instinct warned him to be quiet, and he left as soon as he could. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mused, then reached a decision. He had a purpose now.

The other two members of the expedition were also watching the approach to the planet. Fred found them in the recreation area. Richard Lodgesen, the lean, tall chemist-physicist, looked up at Fred's approach, said with a supercilious air, "I should think the anthropology section would be studying the planet as hard as we."

Data, Fred, data! Ignore the jerk; just integrate this information: he was easily distracted. "I am studying. What do you think of it?"

Lodgesen smiled warmly, the first time he'd reacted pleasantly around Fred. "I think we're all of the same opinion. This discovery will rock 'em up back home."

"And you, Beth?"

Beth Rosen, their data coordinator, Huh?ed, and gave Fred her attention grudgingly. "My opinion? It's ... it's like coming home, Fred. Why do you ask?"

Of them all, Beth was the only one who was curious about Fred's activities. "No important reason," he was suddenly aware of a bead of sweat on his forehead as he looked at the screen. Home? More like the poorhouse. But he continued to lie, "Just doing a little survey." He wandered away, thoughts in turmoil.

He must be careful of Beth. He'd learned very fast to respect her on both professional and interpersonal grounds. The gal had a mind like a steel trap; she had a body that caused males--adolescents to elders--to fantasy, and females--of any age--to envy. Beth, as data coordinator, had a role on the ground similar to Charlesworth's in space. Although the data coordinator rarely went to extremes, she or he was fed all information the expedition collected, had ultimate power for decision and responsibility.

And how was Fred to give her this information? Add it up--but it wouldn't add. JoAnn Chase, semantics, deeply taken with the planet; Beth Rosen, data coordinator, in a state of lassitude but not as strongly influenced as Jo; John Charlesworth, captain, highly enthusiastic; Richard Lodgesen, chemistry-physics, showing more joyous emotion than the cold fish could possibly be expected to; and Fred Kirr, anthropology, who tended as far toward dislike as Beth did like, possibly as far as Jo.

Item: no one acted abnormal.

Item: on the basis of very bad statistical sampling, it seemed the women were reacting far more than the men to this particular encounter.

Item: you, Fred Kirr, are the only one to have an anti-reaction. Are you insane? No, you've always been this way. In school, the times you got good grades were when you were sure you'd flunked. Or, take your Tanganyika discovery in 1965: a complete skeleton of the Dryopithecinae, showing anthropoid differentiation by late Miocene. The scientific world hailed this as strong evidence that, in Life's words, "the evolution of that primate called 'man' began fantastically farther back than we'd ever before dreamed." Your reaction was discouragement; there was too much conclusion jumping; nothing at all had been proved.

Come to think of it, all 28 of your years have been spent with reverse reaction. And now you have a situation that must soon be resolved.

Fred shook his head. The change in the others seemed so sudden. It was only a few hours ago that the ship had come out of hyper.

He'd been watching the newly visible star system wondering, Will you be the one? Somewhere in your depths, is there the key to our mystery?

"Hi, Gloomy Gus!" JoAnn joined him, excited pleasure bubbling from her.

"Gloomy--"

"All right, you weren't being gloomy, just concentrating. You're still known to the rest of us as Gloomy Gus...." She giggled.

"I was thinking about intelligent life," Fred said.

"I'll bet," the girl added, "you were thinking I wouldn't have a job because, as usual, we won't find it. But we're bound to, eventually, so why not now?"

He had to smile; her attitude was infectious. "Matter of fact, I was thinking we'd miss. I even wonder what we're doing out here--"

Charlesworth's voice, on the intercom, broke in: "Attention, please. We have come out of hyperspace in the constellation Taurus. As you know, nothing has been said about our destination; this is done to avoid prejudicing you. I'll now play the recorded instructions from General Anderson."

A new voice took over, sounding even more mechanical. "Ladies and gentlemen, you are making history. Whatever you do will make history, United States' history--"

Fred, the only member who'd been out before, said, "They always begin that way. You'd think--"

Jo shooshed him, and they continued listening. "This expedition is one of the many under the administration of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration and coordinated by the joint armed forces. You are aboard the Exploration Frigate DLE 560, also known as USS Taurus. The general volume of space around you is the Taurus moving cluster, a roughly globular group of 100 stars. Your destination is the Hyades open cluster, specifically Gamma Tauri.

"Your primary mission is, as always, to find and contact intelligent life. However, secondarily, you may be able to shed some light on the phenomenon we call 'moving clusters.' These are ill-defined groups of stars, all in parallel motion.

"Taurus is moving away from us at 28.5 miles per second. Now 130 light years away, the group was closest to us--some 65 light years--only 800 thousand years ago...."

Fred stopped listening. Why, that long ago, man was already differentiated. In another half-million years, more or less, the gang around the old juke box in Java would be using fire ... only he wouldn't really be man, just an unreasonable facsimile. Man? He wouldn't show up for another 450 millennia--too soon, too soon. Something's got to be done about our theories: in 25,000 years, we appeared as a clever savage, developed to our present state. What were we doing in all the years the lower hominids were evolving? Where were we?