"Captain Robers. The freighter is the Golden Fleece."
"Port?"
"New York. I am homeward bound with a cargo from Ceres of the Asteroids."
Winford's eyes gleamed momentarily.
"Iridium, eh?"
Captain Robers declined to answer. The valuable metal, which was found mostly in abundance among the Asteroids and particularly on Ceres, had proved the bait that lured pirates in flocks from all parts of the Universe to prey on the freighters that carried it, usually under heavy guard. The Golden Fleece had obviously been trying to slip through under the camouflage of an ordinary tramp freighter when Winford and his followers boarded her. Robers saw no reason for trying to lie about Ceres, since Winford would discover it later when he examined the log. Winford, however, did not press the question about the cargo.
"Who is the owner, Captain?"
"The Interstellar Transportation Company, New York, Silas Teutoberg, president."
Winford leaped to his feet.
"Repeat that name, Captain," he ordered harshly.