At an angle above the plane of the ecliptic over the orbits of the asteroids was a long metal craft, resembling somewhat a cross between a towerless submarine and an all-metal zeppelin. In the forward cabin, six men were gathered. They comprised the entire crew and command of the vessel. Although an official meeting, there was about it none of the stiffness that marks such an event in military circles on Earth: on an interplanetary vessel every man's life is in the hands of every other man. The captain is obeyed, not because of his rank, primarily, but because the lives of all depend upon explicit conformation to discipline. But in this vital discipline, there is no place for the sham of stiff-necked formality; thus, captain, officer, or member of the crew spoke to each other with frankness and mutual respect.
Captain Wanderman looked around, mentally checking to see if all were present: Lieutenant Alfred Rokesmith; Weber, the scientist; Opp, explorer and cook extraordinary; Mullins, skilled mechanical specialist; Barth, doctor and general overseer of vital supplies.
Wanderman smiled. "I guess you're all eager to find out whither we're heading, eh?"
"We sure would," spoke up Opp.
"Especially after that terrifically long period of acceleration," added Weber. "Three days of it ... beats all my experience."
"It was necessary to achieve our speed. We're going a long way ... have to make the trip as short as possible. We'll be putting on still more acceleration once the asteroids are behind us."
"Neptune?" asked Barth. "Pluto?"
"Farther than either."
"You don't mean Planet P, do you?" spoke up Mullins. "The one that was discovered last year, that hasn't been given a name yet?"
"Right!"