"From Earth--" Gary ticked the requisites off on his fingers as he spoke--"from Earth's government we must borrow the knowledge of the hypatomic drive which makes spaceflight possible. Venus must supply us with _neurotrope_, their super-efficient fuel, the only type sufficiently condensed to enable us to leave our galaxy. The Martian people must lend us their formula for building impenetrable force-fields about space vehicles, lest a stray comet or a hail of meteoric debris met in the outer darkness bring our flight to sudden ending. And from Jupiter must come the secret of transcendent speed, through which--and _only_ through which--can we hope to reach our goal." Muldoon whistled softly. "That's a big order, Gary. _Four_ big orders, in fact." And Dr. Bryant said, "I'm afraid I can only repeat Dr. Anjers' words, Gary. You expect too much of our neighbors in asking them to give you--" * * * * * Of all his companions, only the girl, Nora Powell, offered any word of encouragement. Her eyes were shining with a great purpose, and with a great determination, too. With an almost indiscernible movement she seemed to leave the fellowship of his doubters and arraign herself at Gary's side. Her words were like the warmth of a friendly handclasp as she said: "But they _will_ give! Because they must! Dr. Lane--Gary--it's a great dream. One which we must see to fulfillment." Gary glanced at her, pleased and gratified. "We?" he repeated. The girl nodded determinedly. "Yes, we. Because if you'll have me, Gary, I want to join your expedition." "Well, now," drawled Flick Muldoon, "as far as that goes, I've been beefing a little, yeah. But on purely technical grounds. I didn't say I was going to pull a sneak on the shindig. Hell I'll try anything once. You can count me in, Gary, lock, stock, and barrel." Gary said gravely, "Thanks both of you. And you Dr. Bryant?" The older man smiled thinly. "I won't deceive you, Gary. I confess I still have my doubts as to the practicality of your ambitions. Nevertheless, I'd be a poor scientist if I were to refuse to lend my small efforts to such a magnificent undertaking. Of course, you may count on me. Boris--" He turned to his Eurasian colleague--"I'm sorry our conversations are to be thus abruptly terminated by what may seem to you a somewhat impulsive decision. But there may be something in Dr. Lane's warning." To the surprise of everyone, the rather easily-annoyed Dr. Anjers this time showed no annoyance whatsoever. Instead, his bland, cherubic face was puckered with thought, and when he spoke it was with firm decision. "No, you are completely right, my friend. Dr. Lane has not convinced me--yet. But if he _is_ right, this is no matter for slow ponderings. We must act at once. And I, too, if you will permit, would like to become a member of your party."