When the Mentorian left for another cabin, Bart looked around, and suddenly felt he would stifle if he stayed here another minute. He wasn't likely to run into Tommy twice in a row, and if he did, well, Tommy would probably remember the snub he'd had and stay away from Dave Briscoe. And he wanted another sight of the stars--before he went into worry and danger. He went down to the Observation Lounge. The cosmic dust was brighter out here, and the constellations looked a little flattened. Textbook tables came back to him. He had traveled 47 light-years--he couldn't remember how many _billions_ of miles that was. Even so, it was only the tiniest hop-skip-and-jump in the measureless vastness of space. The ship was streaking toward Procyon, a sol-type star, bright yellow; the three planets, Alpha, Beta and Gamma, ringed like Saturn and veiled in shimmering layers of cloud, swung against the night. Past them other stars, brighter stars, faraway stars he would never see, glimmered through the pale dust.... "Hello, Dave. Been space-sick all this time? Remember me? I met you about six weeks ago in the lounge down here--just out from Earth." _Oh, no!_ Bart turned, with a mental groan, to face Tommy. "I've been in cold-sleep," he said. He _couldn't_ be rude again. "What a dull way to face a long trip!" Tommy said cheerily. "I've enjoyed every minute of it myself." It was hard for Bart to realize that, for Tommy, their meeting had been six weeks ago. It all seemed dreamlike. The closer he came to it, the less he could realize that in a few hours he'd be getting off on a strange world, with only the strange name _Raynor Three_ as a guide. He felt terribly alone, and having Tommy close at hand helped, even though Tommy didn't know he was helping. "Maybe I should have stayed awake." "You should," Tommy said. "I only slept for a couple of hours at each warp-drive shift. We had a day-long stopover at Sirius Eighteen, and I took a tour of the planet. And I've spent a lot of time down here, just star-gazing--not that it did me much good. Which one is Antares? How do you tell it from Aldebaran? I'm always getting them mixed up." Bart pointed. "Aldebaran--that's the big red one there," he said. "Think of the constellation Taurus as a necklace, with Aldebaran hanging from it like a locket. Antares is much further down in the sky, in relation to the arbitrary sidereal axis, and it's a deeper red. Like a burning coal, while Aldebaran is like a ruby--" He broke off in mid-word, realizing that Tommy was gazing at him in a mixture of triumph and consternation. Too late, Bart realized he had been tricked. Studying for an exam, the year before, he had explained the difference between the two red stars in almost the same words. "Bart," Tommy said in a whisper, "I knew it had to be you. Why didn't you tell me, fella?"