“Certainly—” Reymont was interrupted:

“How can you tell how much another guy may need? You don’t have the sensitivity God gave a cockroach. Do you know one mucking thing about Emma? I do. I know she’s a fine, courageous woman… perfectly well able to judge her own necessities and guide herself… she doesn’t need you to run her life for her.” Williams pointed. “There’s the door. Use it.”

“Norbert, don’t.” Glassgold climbed from the casket and tried to go between the men. Reymont eased her aside and answered Williams:

“If exceptions are to be made, the ship’s physician is the person to determine them. Not you. She has to see Dr. Latvala anyway, after this. She can ask him for a medical authorization.”

“I know how far she’ll get with him. That louse won’t even issue tranquilizers.”

“We’ve years ahead of us. Unforeseeable troubles to outlive. If we start getting dependent on pacifiers—”

“Did you ever think without some such help, we’ll go crazy and die? We’ll decide for ourselves, thank you. Get out, I said!”

Glassgold sought again to intervene. Reymont had to seize her by the arms to move her.

“Take your hands off her, you swine!” Williams charged with both fists flailing.

Reymont released Glassgold and drifted back, into the hall where room for maneuvering was available. Williams yelped and followed. Reymont guarded himself against the inexpert blows until, after a minute, he sprang. A karate flurry and two strokes sent Williams to the deck. He huddled, retching. Blood dripped from his nose.

Glassgold wailed and ran to him. She knelt, pulled him close, glared up at Reymont. “Aren’t you brave?” she spat.

The constable spread his palms. “Was I supposed to let him hit me?”

“You c-c-could have left.”

“Impossible. My duty is to maintain order on board. Until Captain Telander relieves me, I’ll continue to do so.”

“Very well,” Glassgold said between her teeth. “We are going to him. I am lodging a formal complaint.”

Reymont shook his head. “It was explained and agreed on when this situation developed, the skipper mustn’t be bothered with our bickerings. He has to think of the ship.”

Williams groaned his way back toward full consciousness.

“We will see First Officer Lindgren,” Reymont said. “I have to file charges against both of you.”

Glassgold compressed her lips. “As you wish.”

“Not Lin’gren,” Williams mouthed. “Lin’gren an’ him, they was—”

“No longer,” Glassgold said. “She couldn’t stand any more of him, even before the accident. She will be fair.” With her help, Williams got dressed and limped to the command deck.

Several people saw the group pass and started to ask what had happened. Reymont snapped them into silence. The looks they returned were sullen. At the first intercom call box, he dialed Lindgren and requested her to be in the interview room.

It was minuscule but soundproof, a place for confidential hearings and necessary humiliations. Lindgren sat behind the desk. She had donned a uniform. The fluoropanel spilled light onto her frost-blond hair; the voice in which she bade Reymont commence, after they were all seated, was equally cold.