The shift in the others had seemed abrupt to Fred. They were far more interested in that damned planet than in him; this should have been perfectly natural except for the speed of occurrence.
As the only space veteran, Fred was listened to carefully. Further, as the anthropologist, he was in a position to tell them things they wanted to know.
Soon after they'd come out of hyper, the group gathered in the recreation area. In the three days of the trip, they'd grown used to meeting there for discussion. And this time, they were excited about the possibility of life.
"Somehow," Jo said, "I feel that we are destined to do what none of the others has done."
There was general concurrence. "Right!" Charlesworth interjected.
Fred frowned, shook his head.
"Why not? How can you know, Kirr?" Lodgesen, as usual, was his snobbish self.
"Why not? You ought to know more than I about randomness and screwed-up statistics, Lodgesen." Fred was on his feet for emphasis. "Frankly, from what we've learned out here, I'd rather count on winning the sweepstakes ... without having a ticket. That's how bad the odds are."
"Fred," Beth said softly, "we concede you know your business; and you were on two other expeditions that found traces of very high orders of intelligence on deserted planets. But why do you feel so strongly? I should think those traces would be encouraging."
Again he shook his head. "It's not that simple. Here's the run-down: five years ago we began sending out expeditions. So did the other countries. Naturally, we tried the stars nearest us; so did they. We've very effectively covered the nearest parts of the galaxy. No life."