commander and his remaining two
marines, waiting to thrust them out into space. Winford had not
instructed Jarl just how to take care of the situation, and the Martian
attended to it in his own way. Commander 6666-A, with his arms bound
behind his back, stared in amazement as Jarl calmly stepped over the
dead bodies and went on his way to release his fellow pirates from the
hold.

Up in the control room the radio loud-speaker hummed to life.

"Teutoberg, Teutoberg, are you there?" cried an anxious voice. "Three
Interplanetary battle spheres are approaching from the direction of the
Earth! They are still two thousand miles away, but they are coming on
fast! We're going to cut loose and run for it. If you're not back here
in five minutes, you'll have to stay where you are!"

Winford cut in then for Teutoberg, who gulped painfully before speaking.

"Go right ahead," he said in a strained voice. "I'm staying here on the
_Golden Fleece_. I'll--I'll see you later."

"Why didn't you say you'd meet them in the Hereafter?" suggested Winford
coldly, as he cut out the microphone. "That's where you are going as
soon as Jarl returns. He'll be glad to help you on your way, for he
hasn't forgotten the aid you gave his brother-in-law in robbing him and
sending him to Mercury."

Teutoberg made no answer.

Things were happening swiftly. Already the liner was lurching forward
frantically with every propulsion ray flaming as she started her flight
through space away from the avenging battle spheres. Red lights twinkled
on the control board of the _Golden Fleece_. Agar, at the generators
now, threw in the power. The big freighter leaped ahead like a
grayhound, soon reaching a speed that even the swift battle spheres
could not equal, thanks to the engineering genius of the half-insane
Agar.

Winford glanced around. Teutoberg was already gone. Jarl had taken him
down to the air-lock. Winford tried to forget him. There were other
things to think of. There were the details of taking the _Golden Fleece_
out to Pluto near the frontiers of the Sun's domain--Pluto, that
stronghold of the space pirates where a man could sell an entire planet
or any part of it, no questions asked, if he could produce it for the
buccaneer kings to bid on. The freighter and its cargo were as good as
sold already, and the money they would bring would be more than enough
to buy pardons and freedom for everyone in the crew.

* * * *