In spite of his pessimism, Kim settled down to the fine calculations required for a voyage to a blue-white dwarf star not readily distinguished from others. Most inhabited planets, of course, circled sol-type suns. Light much different from that in which the race had developed was apt to have produced vegetation inimical to humanity, and useful vegetation did not thrive. And of course sol-type stars are most readily spotted by space navigators. As he checked his course with star-charts, Dona spoke softly.
"Thanks, Kim."
"For what?"
"For not wanting to put me in safety when you're going to do something dangerous. I wouldn't let you, but thanks for not trying."
"Mmmmh!" said Kim. "You're too useful."
He lined up his course and pressed the transmitter-drive stud on the control-panel. Space danced a momentary saraband,—and there was a blue-white dwarf two hundred million miles away, showing barely a planet-sized disk, but pouring out a pitiless white glare that hurt the eyes.
"That's it," said Kim. "That's the sun Alis. There should be four planets, but we're looking for Number One. It goes out beyond Two at aphelion, so we have to check the orbit—if we can find it—before we can be sure. No—we should be able to tell by the rotation. Very slow."
"And what are you going to do with it?" demanded Dona.
There were bright spots in emptiness which the electron telescope instantly declared to be planets. Kim set up cameras for pictures.
"Alis One is the only really uninhabitable planet in the Galaxy that's inhabited," he observed painstakingly. "It belongs to Pharos Three. I understand it's the personal property of the king. It has no atmosphere in spite of an extremely high specific gravity and a reasonable mass. But the plutonium mines have been worked for five thousand years."