n the lid. I opened the case, and gazed with
shining eyes at the gleaming, silver comet that nestled there.

Then, slowly, I unfastened the four-rayed star on my left breast, and
placed in its stead the insignia of my commandership.

Worn smooth and shiny now, it is still my most precious possession.

* * * * *

Kincaide, my second officer, turned and smiled as I entered the
navigating room.

"L-472 now registers maximum attraction, sir," he reported. "Dead ahead,
and coming up nicely. My last figures, completed about five minutes
ago, indicate that we should reach the gaseous envelope in about ten
hours." Kincaide was a native of Earth, and we commonly used Earth
time-measurements in our conversation. As is still the case, ships of
the Special Patrol Service were commanded without exception by natives
of Earth, and the entire officer personnel hailed largely from the same
planet, although I have had several Zenian officers of rare ability and
courage.

I nodded and thanked him for the report. Maximum attraction, eh? That,
considering the small size of our objective, meant we were much closer
to L-472 than to any other regular body.

Mechanically, I studied the various dials about the room. The attraction
meter, as Kincaide had said, registered several degrees of attraction,
and the red slide on the rim of the dial was squarely at the top,
showing that the attraction was coming from the world at which our nose
was pointed. The surface-temperature gauge was at normal. Internal
pressure, normal. Internal moisture-content, a little high. Kincaide,
watching me, spoke up:

"I have already given orders to dry out, sir," he said.

"Very good, Mr. Kincaide. It's a long trip, and I want the crew in good
condition." I studied the two charts, one showing our surroundings
laterally, the other vertically, all bodies about us represented as
glowing spots of green light, of varying sizes; the ship itself as a
tiny scarlet spark. Everything shipshape: perhaps, a degree or two of
elevation when we were a little closer--

"May I come in sir?" broke in a gentle, high-pitched voice.

"Certainly, Mr. Dival," I replied, answering in the Universal language
in which the request had been made. "You are always very welcome." Dival
was a typical Zenian of the finest type: slim, very dark, and with the
amazingly intelligent eyes of his kind. His voice was very soft and
gentle, and like the voice of all h