"In the past I have worked with you side by side against a world of doubters and scoffers." He was reading their thoughts. "But I cannot support you in this endeavor. I wish I could...." Dr. Neist paused resignedly. "I'm not thinking of myself, Friends, believe me. The thought of exile to the barren Anos does not frighten me as it hasn't in the past. Twelve of your associates have disappeared--perished--in flights of exploration to Uranus. Yes, surely perished, for if they were alive we should most certainly have heard from them. We are no longer living in the experimental era of the 21st Century. Space travel is an accomplished fact. We have almost completely conquered space. But for a few unexplored, outlying planets, we should have complete knowledge of what was once a great, mysterious universe. "With such knowledge, Friends, with interuniversal communications perfected, can you still believe that twelve young people could become so lost in space that it were impossible for them to phone us? Think! They had two complete auxiliary sets of uniphones with which they could contact any planet in our universe. The sets were in perfect condition, had been checked and rechecked. Could there have been an accident so inconceivable as to have ruined their phones and left their ship damaged beyond repair? The Staluminum hulls must have been crushed--destroyed--before their instruments could even be touched. "The two previous expeditions to Uranus have failed horribly, as never before in this century of enlightenment and research. The second expedition should never have been allowed, yet you ask for a third. It's sheer suicide, Friends--sheer suicide. Don't you see that?... I cannot give you my sanction." The last with a definite finality, almost fatalistic in tone. The lines in Dr. Neist's face deepened; he looked like a tired old man as he sank into his seat. He felt their disappointment keenly; perhaps as much as they did themselves. But the Junior Rocketeers did not realize this at the time. Neist's decision meant the abandonment of an expedition of months of planning, during which they had hardly slept, working night and day to bring their venture to a successful conclusion. Disconsolately, they trouped out of the hall, hardly speaking. One boy, Reggie Bowan, much younger than his fellows, who had joined the organization hardly a month previously, wiped tears from his eyes as he walked. He expressed the feelings of his dry-eyed but as fully affected seniors. That night they met in their spacious quarters which were at once laboratory, hangar and factory, wherein they had planned and built the ships which had carried their members to glory on the many expeditions since the inception of their organization only a quarter-century before. "Are all the entrances being carefully watched?" asked Jason Day. "You haven't forgotten the East Office? The Doctor usually enters from there. We can't trust anyone now."