Oh, sure, I had a sneaking hunch that this frame of mind I was in was what Resnick had been angling for. By now I had invested Resnick with omniscience so that it seemed perfectly logical that he should know I had spent a sleepless night, that he should know I had seen those welts on Markham's back. In my mind's eye I could see him, a sneer on his thin lipped small mouth, while he waited for me to stick my neck out. I could see his muscular arms, covered by freckled skin that covered sleek muscles, dangling at his sides, fingers uncoiled but ready to double into fists--fists that had once beaten _me_ into shuddering unconsciousness, years ago--fists that could do it again while slightly mad brown eyes glittered at me, mocking.... David Markham served my breakfast, the perfect orderly, quick to anticipate my wishes, so attuned to my habits by now that he almost seemed to read my thoughts before I was aware of them myself. He seemed to have not a care in the world. A cold shower can cover a multitude of inner tortures with a pink glow of well being.... Suddenly the idea came to me. I would talk to Oscar Resnick. I would plead with him. I would offer him money--my whole salary on this trip. Such men have their price. As Captain I made five times more than he. I would give it all to him if he would agree to lay off. All I wanted was to get through my first command without trouble, get back to Earth on schedule, make a good showing. I was, suddenly, pathetically confident that he would agree. A deal like that would have to be discussed in absolute privacy, however. The slightest inkling of it to the crew-- In a panic of haste lest my confidence wane, I skipped my third cup of coffee and hurried to my office. Switching the intercom to crews' quarters I said with the crisp tones of command, "Mr. Resnick, report to the Captain's office," repeating it three times as is customary on intercom calls aboard ship. Then I made sure the intercom was off, and sat there behind my desk waiting, my heart pounding painfully within my chest, my fingers clenched into white knuckled fists to keep them from trembling. Five minutes later there came a polite knock at the door. Composing myself as much as possible I said, "Come in," in what I hoped was a calm authoritative voice. The door slid open and Oscar Resnick stood there, his shoulders almost as wide as the door opening, his space-faded sandy hair neatly combed back, his brown eyes darting around the room in a quick survey and just as quickly masking their triumphant glitter as he saw that I was alone, his thin lips which had been in a firm straight line breaking into a satisfied and anticipatory smile. "Come in and close the door," I commanded, my voice breaking into nervous uncertainty on the last three words.