He had never left Earth before, and he was used to Earth’s sky. He was accustomed to viewing two thousand stars spread over half a celestial sphere with only ten of the first magnitude.
But here they crowded madly. There were ten times the number in Earth’s sky in that small square alone. And bright!
He fixed the star-pattern greedily in his mind. It overwhelmed him. He knew the figures on the Hercules cluster, of course. It contained between one million and ten million stars—no exact census had been taken as yet—but figures are one thing and stars are another.
He wanted to count them. It was a sudden overwhelming desire. He was curious about the number. He wondered if they all had names; if there were astronomic data on all of them. Let’s see—
He counted them in groups of hundreds. Two—three—He might have used the mental pattern alone, but he liked to watch the actual physical objects when they were so startlingly beautiful. Six—seven—
The captain’s hearty voice splattered over him and brought him back to ship’s interior.
“Mr. Annuncio. Glad to meet you.”
Mark looked up, startled, resentful. Why was his count being interrupted.
He said, irritably, “The stars!” and pointed.
The captain turned to stare. “What about them? What’s wrong?”