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 husband would be sent back to Transpolar, with an additional heavy sentence—ten more years, perhaps. Well, she wouldn’t fail. A man brushed past her. “Your hair’s mussed up—” Instinctively Andrea lifted a hand, only to be checked by the hard plastic curve of her Helmet. It was an old gag, but she forced herself to smile. The necessity of wearing Helmets in space had become a joke to most of the passengers. Probably only the officers realized the true danger of the Plutonian mind-vampires.