"Mister," Stiffy warned, "the best way to look at that thing is with a telescope. A good, powerful telescope." The swinging doors swung open and a man walked in. The newcomer walked directly toward the table occupied by Stiffy and Meek. He halted beside it, black beard jutting fearsomely, eyes bleakly cold. "I'm Blacky Hoffman," he said. "I suppose you're Meek." He disregarded Stiffy. Meek stood up and held out his hand. "Glad to know you, Mr. Hoffman," he said. Blacky took the proffered hand in some surprise. "Seems I should know you, Meek, but I don't. Should have heard of you at some time or other. A man like you would get talked about." Meek shook his head. "I don't think you ever have. I never did anything to get talked about." "Sit down," said Hoffman and it sounded like a command. "I got to be going," Stiffy piped, already halfway to the door. Hoffman poured out a drink and shoved the bottle at Meek. Meek gritted his teeth and poured a short one. "No use beating around the bush," said Blacky. "We may as well get down to cases. I guess we understand one another." Oliver Meek didn't know what the other meant, but he had to say something. "I guess we do," he agreed. "All right, then," said Hoffman. "I've built up a sweet little racket here and I don't like fellows butting in." Meek essayed to down his liquor, succeeded, gasped for breath. "But I could use a man like you," said Hoffman. "Luke tells me you are handy with the blasters." "I practice sometimes," Meek admitted. A smile twitched Hoffman's bearded lips. "We have the town just where we want it. The officials can't do a thing. Scared to. Marshals always eat rock or skip town. Maybe you would like to throw in with us. Not much to do, easy pickings." "I'm sorry," said Meek, "but I can't do that." "Listen, Meek," warned Hoffman, "you're either with us or you aren't. We don't like chiselers here. We know what to do with guys who try to muscle in. I don't know who you are or where you come from, but I'm telling you this ... straight. If you don't come in, all right ... but if you stick around after tonight I can't promise you protection." Meek was silent, mulling the threat. "You mean," he finally asked, "that you're ordering me out if I don't join your gang?" Hoffman nodded. "That, big boy, is just exactly what I mean." Slow anger and resentment ate at Meek. Who was this Hoffman to order him out of Asteroid City? This was a free Solar System, wasn't it? No wonder the Rev. Brown was jittery. No wonder the decent people wanted a clean-up. Meek's anger mounted, a cold deadly anger that shook him like a frigid hand. An anger that almost frightened him, for very seldom in his life had he been really angry. He rose slowly from the table, hitched his gun belt to a comfortable position. "The town's been without a marshal for a long time, hasn't it?" he asked.