“Send one of your passengers also. Jane Horton.” Andrea was booked under that alias, Olcott had said.
There was a pause. Then—“Jane Horton victim of Plutonians. Must have turned off power in Helmet. Found dead in radio room just before you made contact.”
Saul Duncan’s fingers didn’t move on the keys. Deep within him, something turned into ice. He was hearing a voice, seeing a face, both phantoms, for Andrea was dead.
Andrea was dead.
The words were meaningless.
He became conscious of Olcott at his side, talking angrily.
“What’s wrong? What did they say?”
Duncan looked at Olcott. The dead, frozen fury in the pilot’s eyes halted Olcott in mid-sentence.
Automatically Duncan’s hand moved over the keyboard.
“Send the body to me.”