trained hands to control a spaceship.

Well, that didn’t matter. There was another way—with the Varra Helmets.

He broke an ammonia capsule under Olcott’s nose and applied artificial respiration. After a time Olcott stirred.

“Hartman?” His tongue was thick. “Where—what’s happened?”

“A great deal. Lie still and get back your strength. I’ll tell you—”

But Olcott struggled to rise. “Duncan!”

“He’s safe.” Hartman nodded toward the bound figure. Then he sucked in his breath and sprang up. Duncan’s eyes were open.

“Stay where you are,” Hartman said, showing the gun. “I won’t hesitate to kill you, you know.”

Duncan grinned. “Go ahead. You can’t pilot this ship. I can wait.”

Olcott got up unsteadily. “You’ll pilot it—back to Earth. Damn you, Duncan—”

“I’ll pilot it to Pluto. Nowhere else.”

Hartman intervened. “Wait. Listen, Duncan. We have several Varra Helmets aboard. You didn’t know that.”

“So what?”

“We do not need you as a pilot. If we make connections with the Varra, we can chart a course back to Earth by letting them instruct us.”

Duncan’s eyes changed.

He said, “You’re crazy.” But his voice lacked conviction.

“The Varra!” Olcott scowled. “But—”

Hartman whirled on him. “I know! It will mean giving up the radium. But there’s no other way. We’re near Pluto. The Plutonians may detect us at any moment. If they do—” He shrugged. “We can keep the radium and die here. Or we can use the Helmets, summon the Varra, and have them guide us back to Earth.”

“Can they do that?”

“Easily. If they had tangible bodies, they could pilot spaceships as well as Duncan, or 

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