On the visiplate was movement. A port gaped in the Maid’s hull, the escape-hatch with which all ships were provided. Based on torpedo-tube principle, powered by magnetic energy, the projector was built to hurl crew or passengers out of the ship’s sphere of attraction. Sometimes the rockets would fail, in which case the vessel would crash on any nearby body. If that danger threatened, a man in a spacesuit, equipped with auxiliary rockets, could survive for days in the void, provided he was not dragged down with the ship. The projector took care of that.

Now, tuned to minimum power, it thrust a bulky object out into space, pushing it toward the cruiser. Gravitation did the rest. The spacesuit dropped toward the smaller vessel, thudded against the hull. Duncan threw a series of hull magnets, one after another, till the suit was at an escape valve.

Five minutes later the space coffin lay at Duncan’s feet.

Through the bars that protected the transparent face-plate he could see Andrea, her long lashes motionless on her cheeks. Duncan’s face was suddenly haggard. Olcott’s voice jarred on his taut nerves.

“What happened? Did they—”

“The Plutonians killed her,” Duncan said. “She turned off her Helmet, and they killed her.”

Hartman was staring at a lead box attached to the spacesuit. “They sent the radium!”

Duncan’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. With a quick movement he went to the controls and turned the cruiser into a new course. On the visiplate, the Maid began to draw away.

Olcott said, “How long will it take us to get back to Earth?”

“We’re not going back.” Duncan’s voice held no emotion.

“What?”

“Andrea’s dead. The Plutonians killed her. You and Hartman helped.”

Olcott’s big body seemed to tense. “Don’t be a fool. What good will it do to murder us? What’s done is done. You—”

“I’m not going to murder you,” Duncan said. “The Plutonians will take care of that.”

“You’re crazy!”

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