He gave a terse account of the incident. “I charge Dr. Glassgold with violation of a hygienic rule,” he finished, “and Dr. Williams with assault on a peace officer.”

“Mutiny?” Lindgren inquired. Dismay sprang forth on Williams.

“No, madame. Assault will suffice,” Reymont said. To the chemist: “Consider yourself lucky. We can’t psychologically afford a trial, which a charge of mutiny would bring. Not unless you persist in this kind of behavior.”

“That will do, Constable,” Lindgren clipped. “Dr. Glassgold, will you give me your version?”

Anger still upbore the biologist. “I plead guilty to the violation as alleged,” she declared firmly, “but I am asking for a review of my case— of everybody’s case— as provided by the articles. Not Dr. Latvala’s sole judgment; a board of officers and my colleagues. As for the fight, Norbert was intolerably provoked, and he was made the victim of sheer viciousness.”

“Your statement, Dr. Williams?”

“I don’t know how I stand under your fool reg—” The American checked himself. “Pardon me, ma’m,” he said, a trifle thickly through his puffed lips. “I never did memorize space law. I thought common sense and good will would see us through. Reymont may be technically in the right, but I’ve had about my limit of his brass-headed interference.”

“Then, Dr. Glassgold, Dr. Williams, are you willing to abide by my sentence? You are entitled to a trial if you desire it.”

Williams achieved a lopsided smile. “Matters are bad enough already, ma’m. I suppose this has to go in the log, but maybe it doesn’t have to go in the whole crew’s ears.”

“Oh yes,” Glassgold breathed. She caught Williams’ hand.

Reymont opened his mouth. “You are under my authority, Constable,” Lindgren intercepted him. “You may, of course, appeal to the captain.”

“No, madame,” Reymont answered.

“Well, then.” Lindgren leaned back. Her countenance thawed. “I order accusations on every side of this case dropped— or, rather, never be filed. This is not to be entered on any record. Let us talk the problem out as among human beings who are all in, shall I say, the same boat.”

“Him too?” Williams jerked a thumb at Reymont.

“We must have law and discipline, you know,” Lindgren said mildly. “Without them, we die. Perhaps Constable Reymont gets overzealous. Or perhaps not. In any event, he is the single police and military specialist we have. If you dissent from him… that’s what I’m here for. Do relax. I’ll send for coffee.”

“If the first officer pleases,” Reymont said, “I’ll excuse myself.”

“No, we have things to say to you,” Glassgold snapped.

Reymont kept his eyes on Lindgren’s. It was as if sparks flew between. “As you explained, madame,” he said, “my job is to preserve the rules of the ship. No more, no less. This has become something else: a personal counseling session. I’m sure the lady and gentleman will talk easier without me.”

“I believe you are right. Constable.” She nodded. “Dismissed.”

He rose, saluted, and left. On his way upstairs he encountered Freiwald, who greeted him. He had kept some approximation of cordiality with his half dozen deputies.