“It’s never been done, sure. Nobody’s dared go into space without a Helmet. And the government issues the Helmets. But look at the other side of it. We’ve got a few patrol boats—the Interplanetary Police. Which is a loud, raucous laugh. Rickety tubs with no real armament. You won’t have to worry about them.” Duncan took another drink. “It still sounds like suicide.” “Hartman will explain—the man we’re going to see now. Take my word for it that you can go into space without a Helmet and be safe. Fairly safe.” “Half a million credits—” “The only danger,” Olcott said carefully, “is that the _Maid_ might send out an S.O.S. The I.P. ships are rickety, but they’re fast, and they might stay on your trail. We can’t have that. So we’ve planted somebody on the _Maid_ who’ll smash the radio apparatus just before you make contact. You can pick her up with the radium and head back to Earth.” “Her?” “You know her, I think,” Olcott said quietly, his eyes impassive. “Andrea Duncan.” Duncan moved fast, but there was a gun in Olcott’s hand covering him. The latter said, “Take it easy. You killed one man with your fists. I’m taking no chances.” A tiny scar on Duncan’s forehead flamed red. “You rotten—” “Don’t be a fool. She’s wearing a Varra Helmet. Of course she’ll take it off when she joins you, or she’d have a Varra _en rapport_ with her, one who’d spill the beans completely.” “Andrea wouldn’t—” “She doesn’t know all of my plans. And she was willing to help me—as the price of your freedom. Listen!” Olcott spoke persuasively. “The girl’s already on the ship. She’s got her instructions. Tomorrow, at three P.M., she’ll smash the radio. If you’re not on hand to pick her up—and the radium—she’ll get into trouble. Destroying communications in space is a penal offense. She might go to Transpolar.” Duncan snarled deep in his throat. His face was savage. Olcott kept the gun steady. “Everything’s planned. Be smart, and in a couple of days you’ll be back on Earth, with Andrea and half a million credits. If you want to be a damned fool—” the pistol jutted—“it’s a long drop. And it’ll be tough on the girl.” “Yeah,” Duncan whispered. “I get it.” His big fists clenched. “I’ll play it your way, Olcott. I have to. But if anything happens to Andrea, God help you!” Olcott only smiled. CHAPTER TWO Invisible Pirate Rudy Hartman was drunk. An overtured bottle of _khlar_, the fiery Martian brew, lay beside his cot, and he stumbled over it and cursed thickly as he blinked at tropical sunlight. The gross, shapeless body, clad in filthy singlet and dungarees, lumbered over to a crude laboratory bench, and Hartman, blinking and grunting, fumbled for a syringe. He shot thiamin chloride into his arm, and simultaneously heard the roar of a plane’s motor.