noted the clean-cut lines and freshfeatures of the officer and felt that under different circumstances hewould like to know him.
"I am Lieutenant Commander 6666-A," the officer introduced himself,using the designation the Interplanetary Council required of all theirfighting men. "You are Evan Winford, are you not?"
Winford nodded.
"You nearly got away with it, Winford," complimented the officer with aboyish grin. "I almost admire you for it. But you made at least onefatal error."
"What was that?" asked Winford curiously.
"When you put Captain Robers and his men off this ship they smuggled outwith them a hand-operated helio set. Each man carried a part. Within anhour after you left they had it assembled and were cranking out S O Ssignals. We happened to be but a million miles off Callisto and pickedup their message. At once our commander decided to start out and rope inthe _Golden Fleece_ before you did any further damage. And here we are."
Winford cursed himself under his breath. Fool that he had been not tohave had the men and their baggage searched more carefully before heallowed them to leave the freighter. Nizzo was responsible for that. Heshould be--but it was too late now. No use crying over spilled milk. Heforced a grin and shrugged.
"'The best laid plans of mice and men--'" he quoted philosophically. "Ihope the entire blame for this wild venture is put on my shoulders whereit belongs when we are brought to trial. These two navigators here andthe rest of the men are in no way responsible. I forced every man ofthem under pain of death to join me."
The young officer shook his head and smiled.
"Not a chance of that, Winford. You'll all stand trial alike, and youknow it. You are rather a strange sort of pirate, it seems to me, tooffer yourself as a sacrifice for your men. I'd say you are tootender-hearted for buccaneering in the Void."
"If I had succeeded in reaching New Chicago, you might have gained adifferent impression of me," retorted Winford, his lambent eyes flamingat the thought. "I have sworn to kill Silas Teutoberg, the new governorof Ganymede, because he sent me to die in the mines of Mercury for acrime I never committed."
The young officer laughed.
"You can set your mind at rest about him, Winford. He was due at NewChicago five days ago in his specially chartered space liner from NewYork. Nothing was heard from his ship ten days after he left New Yorkwith his guests aboard. His last reported position was near the Marsorbit and since then nothing has come out of the Void. They'll justchalk him under the 'Lost in Space' column on the admiralty boards ofthe Universe and give the credit for his disappearance to some hurtlingmeteor. We were on our way to search for the remains of his liner whenwe intercepted the messages from Captain Robers and his men onCallisto."
Winford's face was bleak.
"Fate has prevented me from achieving my greatest desire," he saidharshly. "To rid the Universe of that scourge to humanity would havebeen one of the sweetest moments of my life. I've dreamed of it foryears."
The officer lighted a cigarette.
"Perhaps you are right, but I'd say the chance is gone in more ways thanone. Teutoberg is undoubtedly dead, and you are on your way to the gasexecution cage on Mars. Incidentally, you are now my prisoner. I'll notlock you in the hold with the rest of your crew, but will confine you toyour stateroom."
Winford surveyed him curiously.
"I warn you that I'll take advantage of any opportunity to escape," hesaid.
The officer grinned.
"That's to be expected. So would any other man doomed to die. But thecoronium doors, locks and walls of the _Golden Fleece's_ staterooms arepractically escape proof, and with two of my marines on guard outsideyour door, with orders to kill if you break out, I feel reasonablysafe."
Imprisoned in his stateroom, Winford threw himself on his bunk. Tooearly to attempt anything yet, he considered. It would be better to waita few days--at least until _Eagle_ had departed. Besides, he would haveto work out a plan for escape.
He glanced up at the port-hole. The sunlight was shifting. He arose andpeered out. Twenty-five miles away he could see the battle spherestanding out across the Void on a sunward course. The _Golden Fleece_was turning her nose toward distant Mars, a long journey, since the RedPlanet was on the opposite side of the sun, seven hundred million milesaway.
Winford knew what was taking place. The commander of the battle spherewas again resuming his mission of searching for the missing liner, whilethe young officer and his crew were taking the _Golden Fleece_ with itsiridium cargo and pirate crew directly to Mars.
Meantime the radio and audio-vision announcers on all the planets werebroadcasting the sensational news of the capture of the escapedconvict-pirates and their forthcoming trial and certain execution onMars. Winford turned bitterly away from the port-hole.
* * * * *
One week had passed. Winford started up out of a sound sleep. Helistened tensely. There was a murmur through the big freighter. Herecognized it as the clanging of the great alarm gongs through the hullof the big ship, muffled by the walls of his stateroom. Something wasafoot!
He threw off the covers, sprang out on the deck and pulled on hisclothes. This might be a break! Those gongs never sounded without plentyof cause.
He pulled a chair to the door, mounted it, and cautiously opening thetransom which he had previously loosened, thrust his head out into thepassage.
A marine was running down the passage. The guards before Winford's doortried to stop him, but the man ran on. Presently another came along. Theguard was more successful.
"Say, Buddie, what's all the excitement?" he demanded.
"We've found Teutoberg's liner, or rather, it has found us!" exclaimedthe marine. "They say old Teutoberg has trained his heaviest guns on usand is demanding that we surrender. Our skipper doesn't know just whatto make of it. He's arguing with Teutoberg by radio that this old tub isin the hands of the law already and that he is taking it to Mars for thepiracy court. Teutoberg says he won't be fooled by any such bunk asthat; he knows we are all pirates and he is going to have this shipregardless of anything, since it belongs to his line. I've got to behurrying along. We're getting the big guns ready, the few that we have."
Winford cautiously withdrew his head. His eyes were glowing. The wholescheme was as plain as day now. Teutoberg knew as well as every informedperson in the Universe did that the _Golden Fleece_ was in the hands ofthe Interplanetary Council marines. That talk about being entitled tothe freighter because it was owned by his shipping line was so muchrubbish. He was protected by insurance. What he wanted was the insuranceand the ten million dollars' worth of iridium in the hold as well.
Furthermore, he had intended to have it all along. It was part of hisdiabolical scheme to put the shipment on an unprotected freighter. Thenhe had chartered a liner privately for his venture in piracy. When theliner was "lost" he was out searching for the _Golden Fleece_ along thelanes where it should have been had not he, Winford, and his companionscaptured the craft and sent it hurtling out toward Ganymede. And nowTeutoberg had succeeded in trailing it down.
* * * * *
Winford surveyed the transom pessimistically. Impossible to get throughit. If only he had a ray pistol to dissolve the door lock.... The airventilator! He dropped down on hands and knees and peered under thebunk. The opening seemed large enough to let his shoulders through. Ifhe should become fast in one of the turns of the tunnel it would be allup with him. They'd probably find his body when the ship went into dockfor repairs. But this was no time to think of that.
He crawled under the bunk, took out the grating and set it beside theopening. Then he wormed his way into the tunnel. It was a tight fit, buthe could move. The first turn should bring him to the branch that openedout on the passage not far from his stateroom door.
Never would he forget that struggle when he forced his cramped, torturedbody round the bend in the blackness a fraction of an inch at a time andcrawled up the branch. If he was mist
aken--but he wasn't. Presently hewas looking out of the grating into the passage.
Members of the crew raced back and forth like disturbed ants. From thesnatches of conversation that reached him, Winford learned thatTeutoberg had succeeded in getting the range of the freighter and washolding her helpless under the imposing muzzles of his heavydisintegrator-ray guns.
The door of the control opened and the boyish commander, his face paleand drawn, thrust out his head.
"They're coming aboard, men," he shouted to the group in the passagebelow. "I can't stop them. Our only chance may come after they areaboard."
"Why don't you free the pirates and let them help us?" cried one of themen.
"Never," returned the young commander firmly. "They are in our care,
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