To make a short story stubby, though, we could look forward confidently to setting foot on Europa within two days at the most. Which gave us a big jump over the rest of those who were high-balling it for the wealth-laden satellite. Dick Todd, looking awkward and a trifle embarrassed in his First Officer's braid, came to my turret at the end of our first day's flight. Things had happened so suddenly that no one had found time to tell him the score. He was one huge question mark on toes. "How come, Sparks?" he demanded. "What's this all about? First we're on leave of absence, then they dump us in the _Saturn_ and shove us off for Europa. Why?" I said, "The answer's as simple as your half-witted brother. What do you get from the bank, stupid?" "Loans," said Todd promptly, "at five percent. But what has that got to do with--" "The correct answer," I sighed, "is--_shekels_! The sinews of war, lamebrain. Cash. Gelt. Credits. The root of all evil. Filthy lucre. There's a polarium-rush at Europa, which if I'm any prophet will make the old gold-rushes on mama Earth and the radium-rush on Venus in 2078 look like Bargain Day in the Ladies' Basement. "The Corporation that supplies our bread-and-butter wants in on the ground floor. So we're elected the official claim-stakers." "Polarium!" echoed Dick. "That's that new element, isn't it? Number 106? The impossible one?" I stared at his First Officer's stripes sourly. "When I think of the genius who used to wear those stripes," I sighed, "and then look at _you_--Oh, well! Listen to papa, whackypot. Polarium is Element No. 106, yes! But it ain't impossible, no! Because they found it. And I have yet to hear of anybody finding anything which doesn't exist. It's a brand-new discovery, apparently rare as ideas in that spongy bulb you hopefully call your 'brain,' and it's _so_ new that nobody knows, yet, exactly what its properties are. "Nevertheless, it's got a cash value. So we're on our way to collect some of the aforesaid same." Todd said aggrievedly, "That's not a very nice way to talk to a superior officer, Sparks. Damned if I wouldn't report you--if I had any idea who to report you to. But--Europa, you said? That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? Our attempting to land there, I mean." "No more dangerous," I told him, "than attempting to brush the teeth of a sabre-toothed tiger. Any time a ship gets within umpteen miles of Jupiter, pal, it's hold your hat and breath and give the prayerbook a quick riffle. That hunk of red goo has gravitational power--spelled with a capital, 'Phew!' More spaceships than you have corpuscles have fallen within old Jupe's drag, crashed on the planet. And not a man has ever yet managed to escape, get back to tell us what it's like.