Duncan looked at Hartman. “What armament are we carrying?”
“Six four-inch blaster cannons, fully charged.”
“Okay.” Duncan turned again to the controls, slipping into the cushioned basket-seat. “Everything oiled and clean, eh? Doors?” He touched a stud; the valve of the door closed silently.
“Everything is ready,” Hartman said.
“Air-conditioning?” Duncan tried it. “Good. Course?” He checked the space-chart before him. His back to the others, he said quietly, “You’re asking Andrea to take a big risk, Olcott. You too, Hartman, going into space without a Helmet.”
Olcott moved uneasily; Duncan could see him in the mirror above the instrument panel. “Hell! It was her own choice—”
“You blackmailed her into it.”
Olcott’s lips thinned. “Backing out? If you are, say so.”
“No,” Duncan said, “I’m not backing out. I’m going into space. But you two are going with me—right now!”
His poised fingers shot down on the instrument board. Olcott’s oath and Hartman’s startled yell were both drowned in a sudden raging fury of rockets. In the mirror Duncan could see the gun that flashed into Olcott’s hand, but at the same instant terrific acceleration clamped hold of the little ship.
Olcott’s gun was never fired. The three men’s senses blacked out instantly, mercifully, as the stress of abnormal gravities lifted the cruiser bullet-fast from the islet. Three figures lay motionless on the plasticoid floor, while the rockets’ bellow mingled with the shrieking of the atmosphere. The insulated hull scarcely had time to heat before the ship was in free space, shuddering through all its repaired beams and joists, the dull, heavy thunder of the screened tubes vibrating like a tocsin of doom in every inch of the cruiser.
The hull was dead black, the jets screened. No eye detected the swift flight of the ship. Toward the Moon it plunged, rockets bellowing with insensate fury. …
Duncan was first to awaken. Space flight was nothing new to him, and his body had been hardened and toughened by five years at Transpolar. Nevertheless, his muscles throbbed with pain, and he had a blinding headache as he dragged his eyelids up and tried to remember what had happened.
Realization came back. Spaceman’s instinct made Duncan look first at the controls. The chronometer on the board told him that he had been unconscious for many hours. Watching the star-map, he figured swiftly. Fair enough. They were off their course, but the cruiser had been traveling at breakneck speed. It was still possible to keep the rendezvous with the Maid. Duncan readjusted the controls.
After that, he turned to Olcott and the scientist. Neither was seriously injured. Duncan relieved Olcott of his gun; Hartman was unarmed. Then he took a drink and sat down to wait.
Presently Olcott stirred slightly. His lashes did not move, but without warning his hand streaked toward his pocket.
“I’ve got your gun,” Duncan said gently. “Stop playing possum and get up.”
Olcott obeyed. There was a streak of blood on his cheek, and he swayed a little as he stood, straddle-legged, facing the pilot.
“What’s the idea?”
Duncan grinned. “I’m carrying out your orders. I just thought I’d like company.”
Olcott fingered his mustache. “You’re the first man who ever played a trick like that on me.”
For answer Duncan stood up and waved negligently at the controls. “Take over, if you like. Head the ship back to Earth.”
The irony was evident. In free space, almost anyone could pilot a cruiser. But emergencies and landings were different matters. Years of training in split-second, conditioned reactions were necessary to make a pilot—and only Duncan had had that training. Olcott could easily turn the ship around, but he probably could not control it in atmosphere, and he certainly could not make a safe landing. Olcott was in a prison, and Duncan held the only key.
“What do you want?”
“Not a thing. I’m going through with the job. I’ll get the radium for you, and pick up Andrea. But if the Plutonians harm her, without a Helmet, she won’t die alone. We’re all in the same boat now.”
Olcott came to a decision. “All right. You’ve got aces. Later, we can settle things—not now.”
Duncan turned to the star-map. “Fair enough.”
In the mirror he watched Olcott kneel beside the unconscious Hartman and break an ammonia capsule under the scientist’s nose. Yes, fair enough. He had Olcott in a trap. Dangerous as the man was—and Duncan made no mistake about that—he would scarcely be fool enough to cause trouble till his own safety was assured.
It wouldn’t be assured till the cruiser was back on Earth. Meanwhile, they were in free space—without Varra Helmets. Duncan shivered a little. His eyes sought the enigmatic blackness where Pluto swung in its orbit, invisible and menacing. The Plutonian mind-vampires. Apparently Hartman’s trick had worked. The creatures had not yet discovered the blacked-out cruiser.
Not yet. But the scope of their powers was unknown. After all, the Plutonians were the reason why space was forbidden.
Instinctively Duncan’s teeth showed in a snarl of savage defiance.
There was hilarious excitement aboard the Maid of Mercury. The big passenger-cargo ship had just crossed the Line—Luna’s orbit—and that entailed a ceremony involving those who had never crossed before. An officer, grotesquely costumed as the Man in the Moon, presided from a makeshift throne in the main salon, and Andrea Duncan, smiling a little, watched the victims each get their dose of crazy-gas. She’d already had her initiation, and the effects of the mildly intoxicating gas were wearing off.
It was difficult to believe that outside the hull lay empty space, dark and limitless. Andrea turned her mind away from the thought. But another came—Saul—and she bit her lip and caught her breath in a tiny gasp. Saul! Had Olcott managed the escape? Was Saul Duncan free from Transpolar?
He must be. Olcott wouldn’t fail. That meant that in a few hours Andrea must destroy the communication system. Olcott had told her the best way. Yes, she was ready. It would mean freedom for Saul.
If she failed, Olcott had said, her
