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!"
"I never did get quite clear on the subject of Planet P," drawled
Rokesmith. "Just how was it discovered?"
Captain Wanderman cleared his throat. "Few people are; even the experts
don't know much about it.
"Its existence was first surmised and calculated in 1931--about a
hundred years ago--by Professor William H. Pickering of Jamaica. He
observed that the planet Uranus was being displaced from its proper
orbit. Of course, this perturbation could be due only to the influence
of another planet, he thought. But there was no other body known
at that time which could account for the drag. Thus, the Professor
computed mathematically the existance, approximate size, and position
of an unknown body which would account for the odd behavior of Uranus.
This he calculated to be a giant planet of a diameter of approximately
44,000 miles, in mass the third greatest in the solar system. He puts
its distance to range in an eliptical orbit of from 5,000 million
miles to 9,000 million miles from the sun. This, of course, made it
extra-Plutonian in position. Its year would be in length about 656
Earthly years. He gave it the temporary name of Planet P.
"Planet P's existence was further indicated by the orbits of some
sixteen comets, also affected by a drag which the theoretical planet
made perfectly accountable. Last year the planet Neptune had finally
arrived in the position where it, too, would be affected by this body.
You understand: the astronomers, calculating both known and theoretical
factors, determined that, if this Planet P existed, an irregularity
in Neptune's behavior would be discovered at this particular time.
The predicted irregularity arrived on time; thus, due to this added
information, our astronomers were able to find out precisely where the
new planet should be sought. And they found it. It is indeed an immense
thing, shows a perceptible disc even at its great distance from Earth.
We may anticipate something different when we arrive."
* * * * *
Days went by. Endless days marked only by the chronometer in the
unchanging blackness of the celestial void. The tiny pinpoints of
myriad stars glowed unchangingly. Behind them, a few planets grew more
and more minute, each in turn finally being blotted out by the corona
of the sun. Jupiter's orbit was left behind; they saw the great ringed
planet loom up to one side and fade away as all the others had done.
But this was not with the flashing speed of objects and cities passing
the rocket-vehicle on Earth. It was a matter of days before each change
could be realized, weeks before a planet filled the entire spaceports.
Onward and outward. Celebrations when at last Uranus was passed,
the hitherto outpost of interplanetary exploration. Eventually pale
Neptune, mysterious planet, passed under them, directly in their path,
its great misty, frigid sphere glowing eerily in the twilight of outer
worlds.
Outward. Tiny Pluto was too far off to be seen, but its orbit was
passed. For a hundred years, the outpost of the solar system. Now
dethroned by the enormous newcomer, its passing was still a solemn
moment. Then, one day Barth observed a tiny light where no light should
be. Celebration again rang through the vessel: Planet P was sighted!
Days of deceleration followed. The rockets flamed, but no longer from
the stern of the vessel. Days of a continual blasting from the vessel's
prow until at last the unbelievable acceleration was neutralized. Now
the planet had grown, until, even with their greatly decreased speed,
it filled the view. Still more blasting until the ship was virtually
drifting along, caught only by the gravity of the monstrous new world.
A great disk glowing dimly in the light of the stars, especially in the
light of one particularly brilliant star that was the Earthmen's sun.
The vaguest hints of geological features could be seen. Planet P.
The rockets flared again in an intricate pattern. Balanced on the
pattern, the ship was lowered, slowly, into the atmosphere of the
strange world. About it flamed a red glow as proof of atmosphere. An
atmosphere, doubtless, of some unknown gases that would not congeal
in the awful cold. And, finally, a shrill whistling penetrating the
triple-thick walls, a dull thud, and a silence as she came to rest.
The voyage was over. Man had reached the outermost limits of the solar
system, had arrived safely at the mysterious outer world, Planet P.
* * * * *
The men gathered in space suits. "Each man will take searchlights
and emergency rations. You will obey Lieutenant Rokesmith and myself
implicitly; only on pledges of such obedience from all of you can I
permit a planet-party to land."
Each member of the crew spoke his agreement.
"Mullins, take a coil of rope; Weber, the barometer and compass; Barth,
the camera and flash. Are you sure your gravity controls are adjusted
to decrease your weight to Earth normal? Make sure, everyone--that goes
for me, too."
"Check!"
Rokesmith turned the lever and swung the thick outer port open.
Wanderman stepped out onto the ground; the others followed.
Above them was a deep blue sky strewn with stars, though lacking in
the abundant distribution of the outer void. Beneath their feet lay a
clay-like expanse. They looked about them.
There was something dark looming up in the starlight a distance away.
The captain started off in that direction, beckoned the others to
follow. All felt that strange sensation that comes for everyone when
he stands on the terrain of an alien planet. It makes no difference
how often this experience has been undergone previously; the sensation
cannot be shaken off.
"It looks like a wall," sang out Opp as they reached the looming thing.