"_You'll_ promise!" Lesbee spoke savagely. He had been taken aback by Browne's instant attempt at blackmail. But the momentary sense of defeat was gone. He knew with a stubborn rage that he would stand for no nonsense. He said in an uncompromising voice, "Mister Browne, twenty seconds after I stop speaking, you start talking. If you don't, I'll batter you against these walls. I mean it!" Browne was pale. "Are you going to kill me? That's all I want to know. Look--" his tone was urgent--"we don't have to fight any more. We can go home. Don't you see? The long madness is just about over. Nobody has to die." Lesbee hesitated. What the big man said was at least partly true. There was an attempt here to make twelve years sound like twelve days, or at most twelve weeks. But the fact was, it _was_ a short period compared to the century-long journey which, at one time, had been the only possibility. * * * * * He thought: "Am I going to kill him?" It was hard to believe that he would, under the circumstances. All right. If not death, then what? He sat there uncertain. The vital seconds went by, and he could see no solution. He thought finally, in desperation: "I'll have to give in for the moment. Even a minute thinking about this is absolutely crazy." He said aloud in utter frustration, "I'll promise you this. If you can figure out how I can feel safe in a ship commanded by you I'll give your plan consideration. And now, mister, start talking." Browne nodded. "I accept that promise," he said. "What we've run into here is the Lorenz-Fitzgerald Contraction Theory. Only it's not a theory any more. We're living the reality of it." Lesbee argued, "But it only took us a few hours to get to the speed of light." Browne said, "As we approach light speed, space foreshortens and time compresses. What seemed like a few hours would be days in normal time and space." What Browne explained then was different rather than difficult. Lesbee had to blink his mind to shut out the glare of his old ideas and habits of thought, so that the more subtle shades of super-speed phenomena could shine through into his awareness. The time compression--as Browne explained it--was gradational. The rapid initial series of accelerations were obviously designed to pin down the personnel of the ship. Subsequent increments would be according to what was necessary to attain the ultra-speed finally achieved. Since the drive was still on, it was clear that some resistance was being encountered, perhaps from the fabric of space itself. It was no time to discuss technical details. Lesbee accepted the remarkable reality and said quickly, "Yes, but where is Dzing?" "My guess," said Browne, "is that he did not come along." "How do you mean?" "The space-time foreshortening did not affect him." "But--" Lesbee began blankly.