The yacht is motionless on the ocean. Our position is exactly at Latitude 0° 0′ 0.0″, Longitude 141° 12′ 63.9.″ The degree of error represents no more than a yard or two. This graceful yacht with the unpronounceable name sits directly on the bull's-eye. There is only five minutes to wait.
Dr. Jones comes into the cabin. He inspects me curiously. "You seem very keyed up, Henry Revere."
"Yes, I feel keyed up, stimulated. This cruise is affording me much pleasure."
"Excellent!" He walks to the chart, glances at it. "Why are we halted?"
"I took it into my mind to drift quietly. Are you impatient?"
Time passes—minutes, seconds. I watch the chronometer. Dr. Jones follows my glance. He frowns in sudden recollection, goes to the telescreen. "Excuse me; something I would like to watch. You might be interested."
The screen depicts an arid waste. "The Kalahari Desert," Dr. Jones tells me. "Watch."
I glance at the chronometer. Ten seconds—they thick off. Five—four—three—two—one. A great whistling sound, a roar, a crash, an explosion! It comes from the telescreen. The yacht rides on a calm sea.
"There went Hesperus," said Dr. Jones. "Right on schedule!" He looks at me, where I have sagged against a bulkhead. His eyes narrow, he looks at the chronometer, at the chart, at the telescreen, back to me. "Ah, I understand you now! All of us you would have killed!"
"Yes," I mutter, "all of us."
"Aha! You savage!"
I pay him no heed. "Where could I have miscalculated? I considered everything. Loss of entropic mass, lunar attractions—I know the orbit of Hesperus as I know my hand. How did it shift, and so far?"
Dr. Jones eyes shine with a baleful light. "You know the orbit of Hesperus then?"
"Yes. I considered every aspect."
"And you believe it shifted?"
"It must have. It was launched into an equatorial orbit; it falls into the Kalahari."
"There are two bodies to be considered."
"Two?"
"Hesperus and Earth."
"Earth is constant . . . Unchangeable." I say this last word slowly, as the terrible knowledge comes.
And Dr. Jones, for the first time in my memory, laughs, an unpleasant harsh sound. "Constant—unchangeable. Except for libration of the poles. Hesperus is the constant. Earth shifts below."
"Yes! What a fool I am!"
"An insensate murdering fool! I see you cannot be trusted!"
I charge him. I strike him once in the face before the anaesthetic beam hits me.
