"The kids probably think we're heroes," said Herb. "Probably they read our stuff and then pester the folks to buy them a spaceship. Want to go out and see Saturn for themselves.”
"The Old Man said it would boost circulation," declared Gary. "Hell, he'd commit suicide if he thought it would boost circulation. Remember what he told us. Says he:
'Go out and visit all the planets. Get first-hand information and pictures.
Shoot them back to us. We'll run them every Sunday in the magazine section.' Just like he was sending us around the corner to cover a fire.
That's all there was to it. Just a little over a year out in space. Living in a spaceship and a spacesuit. Hurry through Jupiter's moons to get out to Saturn and then take it on the lam for Pluto. Soft job. Nice vacation for you. That's what the Old Man said. Nice soft vacation, he said.”
His pipe gurgled threateningly and he knocked it out viciously against the heel of his hand.
"Well," said Herb, "we're almost to Pluto. A few days more and we'll be there. They got a fuelling station and a radio and Doc Kingsley's laboratories out there. Maybe we can promote us a poker game.”
Gary walked to the telescopic screen and switched it on.
"Let's take a look at her," he said.
The great circular screen glowed softly. Within it swam the image of Pluto, still almost half a billion miles away. A dead planet that shone dully in the faint light of the far distant Sun. A planet locked in the frigid grip of naked space, a planet that had been dead long before the first stirring of life had taken place on Earth.