Hartman’s ravaged face twisted in a grin. “So. But their power can’t break through the Heaviside Layer. That’s why Earth hasn’t been harmed. Only space travelers, unprotected by a Varra convoy, are vulnerable. Even with Varra Helmets, men are sometimes killed. All right. How do you suppose the Plutonians find their victims?”
“Nobody knows that,” Duncan said. “Mental vibrations, maybe.”
Hartman snorted. “Space is big! The electrical impulses of a brain are microscopic compared to interplanetary distances. But the ships—there’s the answer. A spaceship is visible for thousands of miles—reflection, and the rocket-jets. It’d be easy for the Plutonians to locate our ships, if they have any sort of telescopes at all. So, we have here a ship they cannot find. Therefore, we do not need a Varra escort to protect us from the Plutonians.”
“It would have been safer if we could have hired a Varra,” Olcott said. “Still, that was impossible. They’re hand in glove with the government.”
“I know. They’ve convoyed me, in the old days,” Duncan grunted. “Let me go over it again. I take this ship out, pick up the Maid, Earthside of Luna, and get the radium—and Andrea.”
“Right,” Olcott nodded. “Then back here, and I hand over half a million credits.”
“Going into space without a Helmet is risky.”
“You will not be near Pluto,” Hartman put in. “There is danger, yes, but it is minimized.”
“But there is danger. I’m thinking of Andrea. When I pick her up, she’s got to leave her Helmet in the Maid.”
“Naturally,” Olcott snapped, his lips thinning. “If she continues to wear it, she brings a Varra back to Earth with her—a spy.”