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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..29ff889 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60442 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60442) diff --git a/old/60442-h.zip b/old/60442-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2d30be8..0000000 --- a/old/60442-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60442-h/60442-h.htm b/old/60442-h/60442-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index dfe9421..0000000 --- a/old/60442-h/60442-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1181 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Peabody, by Rog Phillips. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Peabody, by Rog Phillips - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Captain Peabody - -Author: Rog Phillips - -Release Date: October 6, 2019 [EBook #60442] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PEABODY *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="355" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Captain PEABODY</h1> - -<h2>BY ROG PHILLIPS</h2> - -<p class="ph1"><i>He carried the monkey of fear on his back for<br /> -all to see; and until he could shake the beast<br /> -he knew he would be a captain in name only....</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, December 1957.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The gavel rapped sharply, and the murmur of conversation throughout -the banquet room drifted into hushed silence. The occasion was -the seventy-fifth meeting of RETSCAP, the organization of Retired -Space Captains; the place, a banquet room in the Empire Club on the -hundred and sixty-fourth floor of the New Empire State Building in -Manhattan; the time, approximately nine thirty in the evening, August -9, 2231 A.D.; those present, the four hundred and eighteen members -of RETSCAP—or rather, four hundred and nineteen, including the new -member, Captain Arthur Peabody, who had reached his ninety-fifth -birthday just two weeks before, and by doing so had been automatically -retired from active service and thereby become eligible for membership -while still in the prime of life.</p> - -<p>"Quiet everybody," the Secretary and master of ceremonies, Captain John -Evers, said good-naturedly, rapping the gavel again. He turned to the -new member, sitting next to him. "Captain Peabody," he said in his -loud clear voice, "The time has come for fulfillment of a traditional -part of our get-togethers—one we all look forward to with great -pleasure and anticipation."</p> - -<p>There was a subdued clapping of hands, then Captain Evers cleared his -throat loudly and continued. "Each of us here has become a member of -RETSCAP only after a lifetime of space travel, much of that time as -a Captain in charge of the destinies of our crews and passengers and -ships. Inevitably each of us has had some unusual experiences in his -time, and we like to talk about them, boring each other to death, no -doubt, as we repeat the same stories among ourselves meeting after -meeting. So it's always a treat to us to get a new member and by so -doing get some fresh stories to listen to. I am about to give you the -floor, and what we would like to hear is the one experience you have -had which you think is the most unusual, in some way, of your entire -career. The floor is now yours, Captain Arthur Peabody!"</p> - -<p>Arthur Peabody stood up slowly, a tall man, long legged and short -bodied in his seven foot height, his sharply bridged nose and high -forehead giving his features the stamp of authority comfortably -worn, and waited, a quiet smile on his firm lips, until the applause -subsided. Then he began his speech.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The one experience that stands out in my mind more than any other -really began about five minutes after I was assigned to my first ship, -the <i>Alabama</i>, when I was given the list of my officers and crew to -check over. Half way down the list I came to a name, Oscar Resnick, -and suddenly the thrill of being a captain was gone. For two cents, -at that moment, I would gladly have become a retired Space Captain -before I started. I was fifty-two years old then, and it had been about -thirty years since I last saw Resnick. His rating was still spaceman -first class, and I knew if he had ever risen higher he had been demoted -again, as was inevitable, sooner or later. He was an incurable bully -with the worst streak of sadistic cruelty in him I've ever run across.</p> - -<p>Even the sight of his name on that list sent an instinctive fear -through me. Once, when I was still a space recruit he had whipped me to -within an inch of my life and instilled in me the realization that he -could do it any time, anywhere.</p> - -<p>A man like that is slightly mad, or strikes you that way. You stay -out of his way if you can, and if you can't you let him have his way, -swallow his insults, do anything to avoid the beating you would get if -he took the whim. Live with that for two years as I had thirty years -before, and you never get over it.</p> - -<p>Now I was captain of my first ship and he was to be one of the crew. -And I knew in my heart that if he walked up to me and suddenly reached -up to scratch his head I would cringe and turn pale. I wouldn't be able -to help it. And if that happened it would be the end of me. The crew -would think I was yellow—and I was when it came to Oscar Resnick.</p> - -<p>Oh, he wouldn't do anything that would give me cause to toss him in -the brig, nor even anything that would give me cause to fire him—at -least a reason that would stand up under a union inquiry if he demanded -one, which he would. He would just grin at me knowingly with eyes that -told me he thought I was yellow, and hesitate just long enough after an -order to make me wonder if he was going to obey—the kind of stuff that -could break me down completely, in time. And there would be nothing I -could do about it.</p> - -<p>I made a try to keep him off my crew. The Dispatcher admitted Resnick -had the reputation of being a trouble maker, but if I didn't take him -there was likelihood the Union would call out the whole crew and ground -the ship.</p> - -<p>Then the Dispatcher pointed out the fact that the list was short one -man, my personal orderly. I hadn't thought about an orderly at all, -and hadn't chosen one yet. He gave me the list of available orderlies -and I looked it over, most of the names meaning nothing at all to me. -Suddenly I ran across a name I knew. I didn't know the man, but I had -heard of him, and probably all of you have.</p> - -<p>The name was David Markham. He was <i>the</i> David Markham all right, the -Dispatcher said when I asked him—the one who was kicked out of Space -Patrol for abject cowardice. The Dispatcher told me the man had been -trying for two years to get back into space, the Union wouldn't take -him, and the only way he could get into service was an orderly to a -Captain—if any Captain took him.</p> - -<p>The Dispatcher suggested two or three other men he knew personally, -any one of which I would probably like and decide to keep permanently. -But a crazy idea was running around in my head. It was a clutching at -straws, but what it amounted to was this: I had a bully on my crew, a -man who had my number and knew how to use it. Why not balance him out -by making my one choice on the crew a man who was the exact opposite, -an abject coward? Possibly, on some level of thought, I wanted company -if Resnick showed me up to the crew, someone who couldn't look down on -me because of the simple fact that he was the lowest there was.</p> - -<p>The Dispatcher almost cried with happiness over my choice of David -Markham. It turned out he was sorry for the guy, and felt only a man -with real guts would have the courage to sign Markham on. He would -certainly have been surprised if I had told him the truth.</p> - -<p>I met Markham the next morning at seven o'clock when I returned to -the Dispatch Office at Spaceport, New Mexico. He was a fine looking -fellow, twenty-five, rather short—just over the six foot four minimum -of the Space Patrol, about one ninety mass, blonde, square jaw. I took -a liking to him at once—but there was a haunting something at the -back of his eyes that never went away even when he was smiling, and he -smiled often during the time I knew him, though he never laughed but -once—and it was a sound I never want to hear again. But that came much -later.</p> - -<p>I sent him aboard with my bags to get my quarters in order, then -steeled myself to check in the crew. You know how it is, you sit at -the window and the men come by, one at a time, you introduce yourself, -fix his face in your mind, size him up, then call for the next man. -Finally it was Oscar Resnick looking through the window at me, his -thick shock of sandy red hair glued down, clean-shaven, six foot eight, -about two hundred and forty pounds mass, his brown eyes a little too -large, his thin lipped mouth a little too small, his teeth a little too -long.</p> - -<p>The minute I saw him the old fear descended. It took him a few seconds -to place where he had seen me before. Then he recognized me, and I -could see memory flowing through his mind as his wide eyes widened -even more, and his thin lips pulled back into a knowing grin. "Well, -<i>Cap'n</i> Peabody!" he said, rolling the word <i>Cap'n</i> with his tongue -as though flavoring it with contempt. "It's a small world. Fancy...." -I could read his thoughts as they flashed across his face. He would -play a waiting game, taking his time, but it would be a game to his -liking. Showing up the yellow streak in a <i>Captain</i>. Suddenly, he was -completely respectful, almost too respectful. "It is certainly good to -be shipping with you, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>"That's the proper spirit, Resnick," I said. "All right, get aboard. -Gate seven."</p> - -<p>After he had gone I checked in the rest of the crew, seeing liking and -respect in their eyes, and wondering how quickly it would change to -barely concealed contempt, wondering what Resnick would do to show me -up. Like a renegade wolf he would bide his time, staying out of range, -until the moment he decided was right, then he would dart in with a -swift attack that would tear open my fear of him for all to see—and -dart away again to sit and laugh while my soul withered within me. -That's all he would do. That's all he would have to do, and he and I -both knew it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the days following take-off, I watched the slow build-up with a -certainty of knowledge that can only come from personal experience. I -knew Resnick's methods.</p> - -<p>A successful bully must be a shrewd psychologist and know how to -capitalize on weaknesses. I watched Oscar Resnick size up this man -and that one, and go to work on each. It's a subtle formula he used. -Wait until you are alone with a man, then trip him when he goes by -you, or dig your elbow into his ribs painfully, then claim it was an -accident, but in such a way that both he and you know it wasn't an -accident yet nobody else will believe it. Mock him with your eyes -and your smile, dare him to do something about it. What can a man -do? He can't go running to the Mate with the complaint that you are -picking on him. He can't bring the thing into the open by fighting you -without striking the first blow and being branded the aggressor in -an unprovoked assault, and unless he is a professional fighter your -sneering confidence bluffs him out of an open fight at first. Gradually -you establish a fear reaction in him that would keep him from winning -a fight even if, originally, he could have beaten you.</p> - -<p>When you are the victim of that sort of thing you really have only two -courses of action open to you. Try to keep out of his way as much as -possible, if you have any personal integrity, or kowtow to him, grovel -in his presence, sneer with him at his other victims, flatter him, and -hope he will direct his sadistic streak elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Soon four or five of the crewmen start hanging around with the bully, -admiring him too much, laughing too much at what he says, siding with -him against others, and even doing a little minor bullying themselves -by ganging up on this or that victim as soon as each has recognized the -streak of cowardly sadism in the other which binds them together as -human jackals.</p> - -<p>A man like Resnick leaves the strong alone at first; waits until the -jackals have gathered around him. When this stage is reached, when -anybody who says anything is a yellow stool-pigeon, you find the best -man in your crew a hospital case with bleeding nose, bruised face, -black eyes, and maybe a couple of broken ribs caved in by someone's -shoe. After the doctor gives him first aid you go to the infirmary and -ask him who did it. He clamps his lips together and tells you he didn't -see who it was. He's lying, and he knows you know he is lying, but can -you torture it out of him or punish him for not telling you? No. And -there's nothing a Captain can do about it. He must have the testimony -of the injured party in writing, signed and witnessed, and the Code -Book must be followed specifically in punishing the aggressors; and if -the Captain does anything at all he is almost certain to be tied up in -court at the first port of call by the punished parties. Even if the -Captain has provable justification for putting a man in the brig or -fining him or giving him a demotion in assigned type of work, his ship -will be delayed by the trial, and the owners will decide they need a -Captain who knows how to avoid such costly delays.</p> - -<p>A man like Oscar Resnick is a social cancer, and I saw the symptoms -of his presence on the ship come into being, and grow, and I knew he -was too cunning and too shrewd to let them get out of hand. Any other -Captain, knowing all this, would sit back and do nothing, knowing that -that was his only safe course consistent with his duty of keeping the -ship on schedule.</p> - -<p>I had to follow this course of action too. But I knew that it was just -a prelude, that when Resnick sensed the time was ripe for his purposes, -he would get at me.</p> - -<p>It would be subtle and would only take a minute. It would take place -in the presence of the crew. It would be something that would catch me -unawares, bring the light of fear into my eyes for all the crew to see. -That would be enough. The word would go back that Captain Peabody was -yellow.</p> - -<p>Some of the crew would quit the ship at North Marsport, telling the -Union business agent they didn't want to ship with a yellow Captain. -The business agent would find men refusing to sign on my ship because I -was a yellow Captain. And inevitably the time would come when I could -not keep a full crew. Then the owners would dismiss me, and I wouldn't -be able to get another berth as Captain.</p> - -<p>I didn't know how to avoid it. It was only a question of time. <i>When</i> -would it happen? Today? Not for six months yet? Tomorrow? When?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>David Markham proved from the start to be an extremely conscientious -orderly. My quarters were kept spotless, I had only to lift my eyebrows -and he was there ready to obey. How many hours a day he spent wiping up -imaginary dust, rubbing nonexistent detergent off my eating utensils -for the nth time before I sat down to eat, polishing my already -mirror-bright shoes, and the million and one things I didn't even know -about, I'll never know.</p> - -<p>Few orderlies mix with the crew, and he was no exception. Most -orderlies either have the personality of a spinster to start with or -acquire it after a few years. He had none of that, but then he wasn't -the type that orderlies are made of.</p> - -<p>There was a tension in him at all times that was so strong it seemed -almost visible—a tension that made each minor chore a matter of life -and death to him. It was pitiful to watch, and I usually avoided -watching him as much as possible. But a Captain may not pick up -something he has dropped, or do a lot of things that any ordinary -man does for himself but which are the traditional duties of the -orderly—if for no other reason than to keep him busy; so by necessity -David Markham was with me during most of my waking hours.</p> - -<p>A pattern of speculation about him grew up in one corner of my mind. -David Markham was the type of man you instinctively like and respect, -the type that in the service <i>should</i> have climbed the career ladder to -an Admiralship by the time he was seventy-five.</p> - -<p>As the days passed the haunting fear in the depths of his eyes seemed -almost to have vanished. If I had not known who he was I would have -laughed at the possibility of his being a coward. Even knowing who he -was, I began to doubt it.</p> - -<p>I thought a great deal about the circumstances brought out at his -court-martial, the testimony that proved he had broken cover and run, -then groveled at the feet of his captors, crying and pleading for his -life. Later the enemy had captured outposts they could not have located -without his help, proving that he had spilled his guts to save his -skin. That had, of course, been in the fuss on Venus with Porter's -Renegades. I didn't see how there could be any doubt of David Markham's -guilt, even though the more I saw of the man the more unbelievable it -seemed. I tried to figure out alternative explanations. I tried to -believe them. I <i>wanted</i> to believe.</p> - -<p>I would catch Markham gazing through a viewport into the subdued silver -velvet of infinity and at the millions of flashing jewels that are -the individually visible suns of our galaxy and the nebulae that are -other galaxies, with his tortured soul, for the moment, at peace. I -would hesitate, wanting to join him in his quiet mood as I would have -joined any other man, then I would steal away, unable somehow to bring -myself to create any kind of bond between us. I had, I realized by -then, chosen David Markham in the hopes that he might become a tidbit I -could toss to Resnick to pacify him and divert him from me. A cowardly -motivation, no matter how you look at it. It had been an impulse I was -now ashamed of. It haunted me. Because of it I couldn't bring myself to -extend to him a Judas friendship, which is what I felt it would be.</p> - -<p>We were forty days out from Earth when Resnick turned his attention to -David Markham. I discovered it quite by accident. Ten minutes after my -regular sleep period had begun the First Mate saw fit to inform me that -an uncharted meteor swarm was going to intercept us in four hours, and -of course it was my responsibility to determine what precautions should -be taken.</p> - -<p>Under ordinary circumstances I would merely have rung for my orderly, -but I was half asleep and did the more natural thing. I went to the -door to his room, next to mine, and opened it without knocking. He had -just undressed, getting ready for bed. He stood there, startled at my -unexpected entrance. And I saw the ugly purple splotch over his kidneys -that could have come only from the blow of a fist.</p> - -<p>I pretended I hadn't noticed it. I merely told him that there would be -emergency duty, and backed out, sliding the door shut.</p> - -<p>When he came out two minutes later, he gave no indication of whether -he thought I had noticed the bruise or not. And for the next few hours -I was far too busy to concern myself about it anyway. But I felt as -though I had given him that bruise myself, with my own fist, and I was -as surely responsible for it as though I had.</p> - -<p>To make it worse, I realized that despite the guilt I felt I still -hoped that Resnick would settle for a <i>famous</i> coward, and leave me -alone.</p> - -<p>While I plotted the courses of hundreds of chunks of meteor iron to -search out safe holes through the intercepting meteor group my thoughts -whispered gleefully, "All you have to do is pretend you don't know -anything and maybe Resnick will be grateful and leave you alone."</p> - -<p>Later, trying to get some sleep, I tried to think what could be done. -Could I come right out and ask Markham about that bruise? Suppose I -did, and he told me Resnick had done it, and I used that as an excuse -to toss Resnick in the brig? Then the men would throw Markham's -reputation in my face and claim it was a cowardly lie; and if I didn't -release Resnick it would mean an official investigation at North -Marsport—on the first leg of my first command. Suppose he told me and -I did nothing. Then <i>he</i> would know I was afraid of Resnick!</p> - -<p>I didn't sleep much. I didn't get much sleep for several days. Coupled -with my guilt feeling, my hate for myself, was a growing feeling that -striking my orderly was the first step in Resnick's plan to get at me, -smoke me into the open where he could find an opportunity to expose me.</p> - -<p>It was obvious how Resnick had gotten to Markham. It had to be when -Markham went to the kitchen to bring my meals, and it had to be with -the knowledge of the cook, which meant that Resnick already ruled the -crew openly, behind the scenes.</p> - -<p>There was no danger of mutiny or any of the claptrap of fiction, of -course. Resnick was no fool, and had no insane ambitions other than -that of feeding his streak of sadism.</p> - -<p>A few days later I noticed a small spot of blood on the back of -Markham's shirt. I said nothing, but that evening after I had dismissed -him and he had gone to his room I took a small flat metal mirror -and slid it under his door just far enough to peek in and watch him -undress, and I saw the welts across his back.</p> - -<p>Worse, I saw him crying. He shook with silent sobs while tears streamed -from his eyes, and hopelessness and discouragement and friendlessness -held possession of him.</p> - -<p>At that moment I knew with absolute conviction that the court-martial -had been right. He was a coward and would never be anything else. But -at the same moment, I suddenly understood him. It was something he -couldn't help.</p> - -<p>I lay in the darkness of my own cubicle, a dull anger growing within -me, turning me into a slightly irrational being.</p> - -<p>There was, I suppose, a sort of self-flagellation to it. A psychiatrist -would possibly diagnose it as that, anyway. In my own mind I was -responsible for everything Resnick did to David Markham, which meant -that by "punishing" Resnick I was punishing myself. When you descend to -such levels of pure and obsessing emotional thinking, logic gets mixed -up quite a bit.</p> - -<p>I came out of that sleepless sleep period with one thing quite clear in -my thoughts. <i>Things couldn't go on the way they were.</i></p> - -<p>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 <i>me</i> into shuddering -unconsciousness, years ago—fists that could do it again while slightly -mad brown eyes glittered at me, mocking....</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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—</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Come in and close the door," I commanded, my voice breaking into -nervous uncertainty on the last three words.</p> - -<p>He stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind him, his eyes never -leaving me. When the door was firmly closed he said, "Sure, Art, old -boy." With those four words he took command of the situation. They had -been uttered so softly that they could not have sent a whisper over the -intercom even if it had been on. He walked toward me until he came to -the edge of the desk, then planting his fists on the desk top, he said, -"I've been wondering how long it would take for you to call me in for a -little talk." He exuded an aura of quiet contemptuous strength as his -eyes flicked over me in speculation.</p> - -<p>"That's right," I said, hearing the nervous squeak in my voice, not -sure whether my comment had any relation to what he had said or not. "I -want to have a talk with you. Things can't go on the way they are!"</p> - -<p>Resnick drew back in pretended surprise. "Why, I don't know what you -mean, <i>sir</i>," he said.</p> - -<p>"You know perfectly well what I mean," I said, my voice breaking -completely. "This is my first command! My whole future hangs on it. -What satisfaction could you possibly get from ruining me?"</p> - -<p>In that moment the past descended upon me completely. Once again I was -pleading for mercy where there was no mercy, hoping against hope before -those soft mad eyes, searching for something that could never be there.</p> - -<p>"Why, <i>sir</i>," he said, mockingly, "I don't know what you mean at all. -Perhaps the stress of your new duties...?"</p> - -<p>"How much would you take?" I blurted desperately. "How much, to lay off -of—David Markham—leave me alone...?"</p> - -<p>"Birds of a feather, huh?" he said. His eyes became thoughtful. "Every -man has his price, I suppose...."</p> - -<p>A surge of hope coursed through me. Maybe we could dicker. Maybe it -wouldn't cost as much as I was prepared to pay.</p> - -<p>He scratched his chin slowly, then said, "Well—how about your salary -for this trip and five thousand dollars?" His thin lips flicked back in -a grin. "And a promise on your part that you will sign me on for the -next trip—or turn in your Captain's papers?"</p> - -<p>The universe stood still as I saw ruin facing me. There was no way out. -No way out at all. I heard myself blurt, "Why? Why? WHY?"</p> - -<p>He leaned over my desk slowly, his fists planted on it once again, -until his face was scant inches from mine. He whispered, "Because -you're yellow. That's why. You never had any business becoming a -captain." His hoarse, taunting whisper hung in the silence of the room -like the knell of doom.</p> - -<p>There is a madness beyond madness, of that I am sure. I should have -been grovelling in fear, I should have been making a decision to step -into an airlock and eject myself into space, a suicide unable to live -longer with himself, because what he said was true and I knew it was -true beyond any shadow of doubt.</p> - -<p>Instead, I heard myself saying, "All right, Resnick. You win." My voice -was perfectly calm. It was not me. Whatever it was, it was not me, -talking. My part of my mind was in a numb stupor, unable to act, unable -even to think. I heard my voice say, "It's a deal. You promise to lay -off. In return I promise to turn my salary for this trip over to you -when we get paid, and to sign you on for the next trip." My voice was -perfectly calm, even practical. I felt my lips curve into a calculated -and bitter smile of defeat. I heard myself say, "Such an agreement -can't be put into writing, of course, but—shall we drink on it?"</p> - -<p>I saw disappointment, disbelief, amazed surprise, cross his lean -angular features as I rose from behind my desk. As though in a dream I -turned my back on him as I crossed the office to the liquor cabinet, -the prerogative of a space Captain. I opened it up with unshaking -hands. He followed me, came to stand behind me, very close. I lifted -out a bottle of Scotch, the seal still unbroken, and turned to him.</p> - -<p>"Scotch?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He hulked over me, his thin lips stretched into a gleeful grin. "Sure," -he said softly, his lips pasted against his stained teeth.</p> - -<p>He sensed my sudden movement, a movement I was not conscious of -dictating, but he was too slow as the full bottle crashed down on his -skull, shattering and sending a shower of alcohol over his uniform and -the floor. His eyes did not close, but blanked into unconsciousness as -he sagged to the floor.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="405" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>I stood there for a moment, blinking down at his unconscious form, not -quite believing what had happened. Even in unconsciousness he sent fear -icing through my veins.</p> - -<p>In one mad moment I had ruined it all. When he recovered he would -be unforgiving, without mercy. For a minute or two I broke down -completely, crying like a baby.</p> - -<p>Then, gradually, a calm settled over me. I turned him over onto his -back and pulled his slack arms together. I took off my belt and wrapped -it around his wrists until I could fasten the buckle firmly.</p> - -<p>Then I went to my cubicle and brought back a roll of adhesive tape and -taped his lips closed, laughing in a low, mad voice that was not my own.</p> - -<p>I used the rest of the roll of tape to fasten his ankles together. And -just as I finished he opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>It took him a few minutes to organize his thoughts and fix his -attention on me, his eyes questioning me. I continued to chuckle under -my breath. I was mad, conscious of the fact that I was mad, and beyond -caring.</p> - -<p>"You have nice eyes," I heard myself say. "Nice soft brown eyes." I -examined his scalp with careful concern for a moment. "Good thing," -I said. "The bottle broke, so there will be no sign of abrasion that -could be proof of anything."</p> - -<p>I took out a cigarette and lit it with trembling fingers, while -he watched me. Blowing out a streamer of smoke and jabbing in his -direction with my fingers, I said, "I'm learning a few things, Resnick. -Already—I'm learning. I wonder how much it will take to break <i>you</i> -down."</p> - -<p>I pushed his head back and tried to put my thumb against his eyeball. -He closed his eyes tightly and I forced his right eye open and pressed -the ball of my thumb against the exposed eyeball.</p> - -<p>"Not too much or it will make your eye bloodshot," I said, in hardly -more than a whisper. "Evidence, you know. Who's going to believe that -the Captain did such a thing? Not even the crew! Sure, they'll agree -with you to keep from being beat up. That is, if you have any stomach -for that sort of thing when I get through with you. I'm just beginning, -you know."</p> - -<p>I lifted my thumb from his eye and squeezed his nostrils together, -watching the terror build up in him, watching his struggles, watching -him grow weaker and weaker, and releasing him at the last moment before -he lost consciousness, and watching his chest heave as he sucked in -lungsful of air.</p> - -<p>"I just thought of something," I said to him. "You wouldn't <i>dare</i> -retaliate after I let you go. To strike me would be treason, punishable -by life imprisonment, wouldn't it? And what would be your defense? -That the Captain had tortured you? Who would believe that? Who are -your witnesses? See how I have stolen your weapons?" I pried his left -eye open and pressed against it with a thumbnail. "A half hour ought -to do it," I taunted. "No marks. I have to be very careful so that an -examination by the ship's doctor won't show a thing."</p> - -<p>In ten minutes—or was it ten eternities?—he became a quivering mass -of flesh.</p> - -<p>I did things to him that left him too weak to move. At the end of half -an hour I pulled the tape off his mouth and listened to him blubber. I -took the tape off his ankles, and the belt off his wrists. I tortured -him some more and he took it.</p> - -<p>"And when I call for you over the intercom," I said, "if you don't come -at once I have you for gross insubordination to your Captain. And if -you so much as touch one member of the crew again I'll call you, boy. -I'll call you."</p> - -<p>Finally I let him go.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After he had gone I trembled like a leaf. Slowly a little bit of -sanity returned to me, and with it a realization of what I had done. -Nausea overcame me and I staggered into the washroom and got rid of my -breakfast, then returned to my desk.</p> - -<p>For hours I sat there while my mind picked up the threads of life and -began functioning again. There was still the feeling that Resnick was -omniscient, that he would be able to topple me into disgrace. But with -it, gradually, came the realization that he wouldn't, that he couldn't.</p> - -<p>I had used his own psychological weapons on him, building up in him a -fear psychosis that he couldn't successfully fight. I had turned the -tables.</p> - -<p>I couldn't really believe it just yet, but I couldn't disbelieve it -either. For the next three days I went about my customary routines with -a calm exterior, waiting for the storm to break, but it never did.</p> - -<p>Finally, to test it, I deliberately went on a tour of inspection -through the ship, until I came to where Resnick was working, along -with several others of the crew. As I entered the compartment and saw -him look up, I saw the instinctive cringing that he couldn't help. In -a flash of inspiration I saw that his sadism was a cover for his own -cowardice, a compensation mechanism.</p> - -<p>I knew then that I had won. After one long silent moment I turned my -back on him and left the compartment.</p> - -<p>As I walked by myself to the central tube and pulled myself up to -the Captain's deck, for the first time I began to realize what being -Captain meant. It means a lot of things, of course, but most of all it -means facing up to one's command, being in charge.</p> - -<p>I knew that I would never again be afraid—least of all afraid of Oscar -Resnick. Nor would I ever again be afraid of fear. In the future I -might be faced with the problem of a bully on my crew again, but I -would know how to deal with him—with his own weapons, the ones he used -<i>because he would be most vulnerable to them himself</i>.</p> - -<p>When the <i>Alabama</i> reached North Marsport Resnick quit the ship. I was -glad to see him go. The rest of the crew remained with me, and I had no -more trouble during the five years I commanded the <i>Alabama</i>.</p> - -<p>David Markham remained with me as my orderly until I retired, and he is -still with me. A few years after the incidents of this story I had an -opportunity to get him a commission but he turned it down and refused -to leave me. Sometimes I think he knows what happened in my office that -day that I called Resnick in, but he has never given any hint whether -he does or not.</p> - -<p>You wonder that I am not ashamed to confess publicly to you that I was -a coward? You shouldn't wonder. We are all cowards—or fools. I am -not ashamed of the fact that once I was a coward. Bravery, in a way, -consists in not being afraid of being afraid.</p> - -<p>Just one thing remains in my story. When I reached North Marsport on -that first leg of my first command, I was a Captain.</p> - -<p>I have been one ever since.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Peabody, by Rog Phillips - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PEABODY *** - -***** This file should be named 60442-h.htm or 60442-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/4/60442/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Captain Peabody - -Author: Rog Phillips - -Release Date: October 6, 2019 [EBook #60442] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PEABODY *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Captain PEABODY - - BY ROG PHILLIPS - - _He carried the monkey of fear on his back for - all to see; and until he could shake the beast - he knew he would be a captain in name only...._ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, December 1957. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The gavel rapped sharply, and the murmur of conversation throughout -the banquet room drifted into hushed silence. The occasion was -the seventy-fifth meeting of RETSCAP, the organization of Retired -Space Captains; the place, a banquet room in the Empire Club on the -hundred and sixty-fourth floor of the New Empire State Building in -Manhattan; the time, approximately nine thirty in the evening, August -9, 2231 A.D.; those present, the four hundred and eighteen members -of RETSCAP--or rather, four hundred and nineteen, including the new -member, Captain Arthur Peabody, who had reached his ninety-fifth -birthday just two weeks before, and by doing so had been automatically -retired from active service and thereby become eligible for membership -while still in the prime of life. - -"Quiet everybody," the Secretary and master of ceremonies, Captain John -Evers, said good-naturedly, rapping the gavel again. He turned to the -new member, sitting next to him. "Captain Peabody," he said in his -loud clear voice, "The time has come for fulfillment of a traditional -part of our get-togethers--one we all look forward to with great -pleasure and anticipation." - -There was a subdued clapping of hands, then Captain Evers cleared his -throat loudly and continued. "Each of us here has become a member of -RETSCAP only after a lifetime of space travel, much of that time as -a Captain in charge of the destinies of our crews and passengers and -ships. Inevitably each of us has had some unusual experiences in his -time, and we like to talk about them, boring each other to death, no -doubt, as we repeat the same stories among ourselves meeting after -meeting. So it's always a treat to us to get a new member and by so -doing get some fresh stories to listen to. I am about to give you the -floor, and what we would like to hear is the one experience you have -had which you think is the most unusual, in some way, of your entire -career. The floor is now yours, Captain Arthur Peabody!" - -Arthur Peabody stood up slowly, a tall man, long legged and short -bodied in his seven foot height, his sharply bridged nose and high -forehead giving his features the stamp of authority comfortably -worn, and waited, a quiet smile on his firm lips, until the applause -subsided. Then he began his speech. - - * * * * * - -The one experience that stands out in my mind more than any other -really began about five minutes after I was assigned to my first ship, -the _Alabama_, when I was given the list of my officers and crew to -check over. Half way down the list I came to a name, Oscar Resnick, -and suddenly the thrill of being a captain was gone. For two cents, -at that moment, I would gladly have become a retired Space Captain -before I started. I was fifty-two years old then, and it had been about -thirty years since I last saw Resnick. His rating was still spaceman -first class, and I knew if he had ever risen higher he had been demoted -again, as was inevitable, sooner or later. He was an incurable bully -with the worst streak of sadistic cruelty in him I've ever run across. - -Even the sight of his name on that list sent an instinctive fear -through me. Once, when I was still a space recruit he had whipped me to -within an inch of my life and instilled in me the realization that he -could do it any time, anywhere. - -A man like that is slightly mad, or strikes you that way. You stay -out of his way if you can, and if you can't you let him have his way, -swallow his insults, do anything to avoid the beating you would get if -he took the whim. Live with that for two years as I had thirty years -before, and you never get over it. - -Now I was captain of my first ship and he was to be one of the crew. -And I knew in my heart that if he walked up to me and suddenly reached -up to scratch his head I would cringe and turn pale. I wouldn't be able -to help it. And if that happened it would be the end of me. The crew -would think I was yellow--and I was when it came to Oscar Resnick. - -Oh, he wouldn't do anything that would give me cause to toss him in -the brig, nor even anything that would give me cause to fire him--at -least a reason that would stand up under a union inquiry if he demanded -one, which he would. He would just grin at me knowingly with eyes that -told me he thought I was yellow, and hesitate just long enough after an -order to make me wonder if he was going to obey--the kind of stuff that -could break me down completely, in time. And there would be nothing I -could do about it. - -I made a try to keep him off my crew. The Dispatcher admitted Resnick -had the reputation of being a trouble maker, but if I didn't take him -there was likelihood the Union would call out the whole crew and ground -the ship. - -Then the Dispatcher pointed out the fact that the list was short one -man, my personal orderly. I hadn't thought about an orderly at all, -and hadn't chosen one yet. He gave me the list of available orderlies -and I looked it over, most of the names meaning nothing at all to me. -Suddenly I ran across a name I knew. I didn't know the man, but I had -heard of him, and probably all of you have. - -The name was David Markham. He was _the_ David Markham all right, the -Dispatcher said when I asked him--the one who was kicked out of Space -Patrol for abject cowardice. The Dispatcher told me the man had been -trying for two years to get back into space, the Union wouldn't take -him, and the only way he could get into service was an orderly to a -Captain--if any Captain took him. - -The Dispatcher suggested two or three other men he knew personally, -any one of which I would probably like and decide to keep permanently. -But a crazy idea was running around in my head. It was a clutching at -straws, but what it amounted to was this: I had a bully on my crew, a -man who had my number and knew how to use it. Why not balance him out -by making my one choice on the crew a man who was the exact opposite, -an abject coward? Possibly, on some level of thought, I wanted company -if Resnick showed me up to the crew, someone who couldn't look down on -me because of the simple fact that he was the lowest there was. - -The Dispatcher almost cried with happiness over my choice of David -Markham. It turned out he was sorry for the guy, and felt only a man -with real guts would have the courage to sign Markham on. He would -certainly have been surprised if I had told him the truth. - -I met Markham the next morning at seven o'clock when I returned to -the Dispatch Office at Spaceport, New Mexico. He was a fine looking -fellow, twenty-five, rather short--just over the six foot four minimum -of the Space Patrol, about one ninety mass, blonde, square jaw. I took -a liking to him at once--but there was a haunting something at the -back of his eyes that never went away even when he was smiling, and he -smiled often during the time I knew him, though he never laughed but -once--and it was a sound I never want to hear again. But that came much -later. - -I sent him aboard with my bags to get my quarters in order, then -steeled myself to check in the crew. You know how it is, you sit at -the window and the men come by, one at a time, you introduce yourself, -fix his face in your mind, size him up, then call for the next man. -Finally it was Oscar Resnick looking through the window at me, his -thick shock of sandy red hair glued down, clean-shaven, six foot eight, -about two hundred and forty pounds mass, his brown eyes a little too -large, his thin lipped mouth a little too small, his teeth a little too -long. - -The minute I saw him the old fear descended. It took him a few seconds -to place where he had seen me before. Then he recognized me, and I -could see memory flowing through his mind as his wide eyes widened -even more, and his thin lips pulled back into a knowing grin. "Well, -_Cap'n_ Peabody!" he said, rolling the word _Cap'n_ with his tongue -as though flavoring it with contempt. "It's a small world. Fancy...." -I could read his thoughts as they flashed across his face. He would -play a waiting game, taking his time, but it would be a game to his -liking. Showing up the yellow streak in a _Captain_. Suddenly, he was -completely respectful, almost too respectful. "It is certainly good to -be shipping with you, sir," he said. - -"That's the proper spirit, Resnick," I said. "All right, get aboard. -Gate seven." - -After he had gone I checked in the rest of the crew, seeing liking and -respect in their eyes, and wondering how quickly it would change to -barely concealed contempt, wondering what Resnick would do to show me -up. Like a renegade wolf he would bide his time, staying out of range, -until the moment he decided was right, then he would dart in with a -swift attack that would tear open my fear of him for all to see--and -dart away again to sit and laugh while my soul withered within me. -That's all he would do. That's all he would have to do, and he and I -both knew it. - - * * * * * - -In the days following take-off, I watched the slow build-up with a -certainty of knowledge that can only come from personal experience. I -knew Resnick's methods. - -A successful bully must be a shrewd psychologist and know how to -capitalize on weaknesses. I watched Oscar Resnick size up this man -and that one, and go to work on each. It's a subtle formula he used. -Wait until you are alone with a man, then trip him when he goes by -you, or dig your elbow into his ribs painfully, then claim it was an -accident, but in such a way that both he and you know it wasn't an -accident yet nobody else will believe it. Mock him with your eyes -and your smile, dare him to do something about it. What can a man -do? He can't go running to the Mate with the complaint that you are -picking on him. He can't bring the thing into the open by fighting you -without striking the first blow and being branded the aggressor in -an unprovoked assault, and unless he is a professional fighter your -sneering confidence bluffs him out of an open fight at first. Gradually -you establish a fear reaction in him that would keep him from winning -a fight even if, originally, he could have beaten you. - -When you are the victim of that sort of thing you really have only two -courses of action open to you. Try to keep out of his way as much as -possible, if you have any personal integrity, or kowtow to him, grovel -in his presence, sneer with him at his other victims, flatter him, and -hope he will direct his sadistic streak elsewhere. - -Soon four or five of the crewmen start hanging around with the bully, -admiring him too much, laughing too much at what he says, siding with -him against others, and even doing a little minor bullying themselves -by ganging up on this or that victim as soon as each has recognized the -streak of cowardly sadism in the other which binds them together as -human jackals. - -A man like Resnick leaves the strong alone at first; waits until the -jackals have gathered around him. When this stage is reached, when -anybody who says anything is a yellow stool-pigeon, you find the best -man in your crew a hospital case with bleeding nose, bruised face, -black eyes, and maybe a couple of broken ribs caved in by someone's -shoe. After the doctor gives him first aid you go to the infirmary and -ask him who did it. He clamps his lips together and tells you he didn't -see who it was. He's lying, and he knows you know he is lying, but can -you torture it out of him or punish him for not telling you? No. And -there's nothing a Captain can do about it. He must have the testimony -of the injured party in writing, signed and witnessed, and the Code -Book must be followed specifically in punishing the aggressors; and if -the Captain does anything at all he is almost certain to be tied up in -court at the first port of call by the punished parties. Even if the -Captain has provable justification for putting a man in the brig or -fining him or giving him a demotion in assigned type of work, his ship -will be delayed by the trial, and the owners will decide they need a -Captain who knows how to avoid such costly delays. - -A man like Oscar Resnick is a social cancer, and I saw the symptoms -of his presence on the ship come into being, and grow, and I knew he -was too cunning and too shrewd to let them get out of hand. Any other -Captain, knowing all this, would sit back and do nothing, knowing that -that was his only safe course consistent with his duty of keeping the -ship on schedule. - -I had to follow this course of action too. But I knew that it was just -a prelude, that when Resnick sensed the time was ripe for his purposes, -he would get at me. - -It would be subtle and would only take a minute. It would take place -in the presence of the crew. It would be something that would catch me -unawares, bring the light of fear into my eyes for all the crew to see. -That would be enough. The word would go back that Captain Peabody was -yellow. - -Some of the crew would quit the ship at North Marsport, telling the -Union business agent they didn't want to ship with a yellow Captain. -The business agent would find men refusing to sign on my ship because I -was a yellow Captain. And inevitably the time would come when I could -not keep a full crew. Then the owners would dismiss me, and I wouldn't -be able to get another berth as Captain. - -I didn't know how to avoid it. It was only a question of time. _When_ -would it happen? Today? Not for six months yet? Tomorrow? When? - - * * * * * - -David Markham proved from the start to be an extremely conscientious -orderly. My quarters were kept spotless, I had only to lift my eyebrows -and he was there ready to obey. How many hours a day he spent wiping up -imaginary dust, rubbing nonexistent detergent off my eating utensils -for the nth time before I sat down to eat, polishing my already -mirror-bright shoes, and the million and one things I didn't even know -about, I'll never know. - -Few orderlies mix with the crew, and he was no exception. Most -orderlies either have the personality of a spinster to start with or -acquire it after a few years. He had none of that, but then he wasn't -the type that orderlies are made of. - -There was a tension in him at all times that was so strong it seemed -almost visible--a tension that made each minor chore a matter of life -and death to him. It was pitiful to watch, and I usually avoided -watching him as much as possible. But a Captain may not pick up -something he has dropped, or do a lot of things that any ordinary -man does for himself but which are the traditional duties of the -orderly--if for no other reason than to keep him busy; so by necessity -David Markham was with me during most of my waking hours. - -A pattern of speculation about him grew up in one corner of my mind. -David Markham was the type of man you instinctively like and respect, -the type that in the service _should_ have climbed the career ladder to -an Admiralship by the time he was seventy-five. - -As the days passed the haunting fear in the depths of his eyes seemed -almost to have vanished. If I had not known who he was I would have -laughed at the possibility of his being a coward. Even knowing who he -was, I began to doubt it. - -I thought a great deal about the circumstances brought out at his -court-martial, the testimony that proved he had broken cover and run, -then groveled at the feet of his captors, crying and pleading for his -life. Later the enemy had captured outposts they could not have located -without his help, proving that he had spilled his guts to save his -skin. That had, of course, been in the fuss on Venus with Porter's -Renegades. I didn't see how there could be any doubt of David Markham's -guilt, even though the more I saw of the man the more unbelievable it -seemed. I tried to figure out alternative explanations. I tried to -believe them. I _wanted_ to believe. - -I would catch Markham gazing through a viewport into the subdued silver -velvet of infinity and at the millions of flashing jewels that are -the individually visible suns of our galaxy and the nebulae that are -other galaxies, with his tortured soul, for the moment, at peace. I -would hesitate, wanting to join him in his quiet mood as I would have -joined any other man, then I would steal away, unable somehow to bring -myself to create any kind of bond between us. I had, I realized by -then, chosen David Markham in the hopes that he might become a tidbit I -could toss to Resnick to pacify him and divert him from me. A cowardly -motivation, no matter how you look at it. It had been an impulse I was -now ashamed of. It haunted me. Because of it I couldn't bring myself to -extend to him a Judas friendship, which is what I felt it would be. - -We were forty days out from Earth when Resnick turned his attention to -David Markham. I discovered it quite by accident. Ten minutes after my -regular sleep period had begun the First Mate saw fit to inform me that -an uncharted meteor swarm was going to intercept us in four hours, and -of course it was my responsibility to determine what precautions should -be taken. - -Under ordinary circumstances I would merely have rung for my orderly, -but I was half asleep and did the more natural thing. I went to the -door to his room, next to mine, and opened it without knocking. He had -just undressed, getting ready for bed. He stood there, startled at my -unexpected entrance. And I saw the ugly purple splotch over his kidneys -that could have come only from the blow of a fist. - -I pretended I hadn't noticed it. I merely told him that there would be -emergency duty, and backed out, sliding the door shut. - -When he came out two minutes later, he gave no indication of whether -he thought I had noticed the bruise or not. And for the next few hours -I was far too busy to concern myself about it anyway. But I felt as -though I had given him that bruise myself, with my own fist, and I was -as surely responsible for it as though I had. - -To make it worse, I realized that despite the guilt I felt I still -hoped that Resnick would settle for a _famous_ coward, and leave me -alone. - -While I plotted the courses of hundreds of chunks of meteor iron to -search out safe holes through the intercepting meteor group my thoughts -whispered gleefully, "All you have to do is pretend you don't know -anything and maybe Resnick will be grateful and leave you alone." - -Later, trying to get some sleep, I tried to think what could be done. -Could I come right out and ask Markham about that bruise? Suppose I -did, and he told me Resnick had done it, and I used that as an excuse -to toss Resnick in the brig? Then the men would throw Markham's -reputation in my face and claim it was a cowardly lie; and if I didn't -release Resnick it would mean an official investigation at North -Marsport--on the first leg of my first command. Suppose he told me and -I did nothing. Then _he_ would know I was afraid of Resnick! - -I didn't sleep much. I didn't get much sleep for several days. Coupled -with my guilt feeling, my hate for myself, was a growing feeling that -striking my orderly was the first step in Resnick's plan to get at me, -smoke me into the open where he could find an opportunity to expose me. - -It was obvious how Resnick had gotten to Markham. It had to be when -Markham went to the kitchen to bring my meals, and it had to be with -the knowledge of the cook, which meant that Resnick already ruled the -crew openly, behind the scenes. - -There was no danger of mutiny or any of the claptrap of fiction, of -course. Resnick was no fool, and had no insane ambitions other than -that of feeding his streak of sadism. - -A few days later I noticed a small spot of blood on the back of -Markham's shirt. I said nothing, but that evening after I had dismissed -him and he had gone to his room I took a small flat metal mirror -and slid it under his door just far enough to peek in and watch him -undress, and I saw the welts across his back. - -Worse, I saw him crying. He shook with silent sobs while tears streamed -from his eyes, and hopelessness and discouragement and friendlessness -held possession of him. - -At that moment I knew with absolute conviction that the court-martial -had been right. He was a coward and would never be anything else. But -at the same moment, I suddenly understood him. It was something he -couldn't help. - -I lay in the darkness of my own cubicle, a dull anger growing within -me, turning me into a slightly irrational being. - -There was, I suppose, a sort of self-flagellation to it. A psychiatrist -would possibly diagnose it as that, anyway. In my own mind I was -responsible for everything Resnick did to David Markham, which meant -that by "punishing" Resnick I was punishing myself. When you descend to -such levels of pure and obsessing emotional thinking, logic gets mixed -up quite a bit. - -I came out of that sleepless sleep period with one thing quite clear in -my thoughts. _Things couldn't go on the way they were._ - -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. - -He stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind him, his eyes never -leaving me. When the door was firmly closed he said, "Sure, Art, old -boy." With those four words he took command of the situation. They had -been uttered so softly that they could not have sent a whisper over the -intercom even if it had been on. He walked toward me until he came to -the edge of the desk, then planting his fists on the desk top, he said, -"I've been wondering how long it would take for you to call me in for a -little talk." He exuded an aura of quiet contemptuous strength as his -eyes flicked over me in speculation. - -"That's right," I said, hearing the nervous squeak in my voice, not -sure whether my comment had any relation to what he had said or not. "I -want to have a talk with you. Things can't go on the way they are!" - -Resnick drew back in pretended surprise. "Why, I don't know what you -mean, _sir_," he said. - -"You know perfectly well what I mean," I said, my voice breaking -completely. "This is my first command! My whole future hangs on it. -What satisfaction could you possibly get from ruining me?" - -In that moment the past descended upon me completely. Once again I was -pleading for mercy where there was no mercy, hoping against hope before -those soft mad eyes, searching for something that could never be there. - -"Why, _sir_," he said, mockingly, "I don't know what you mean at all. -Perhaps the stress of your new duties...?" - -"How much would you take?" I blurted desperately. "How much, to lay off -of--David Markham--leave me alone...?" - -"Birds of a feather, huh?" he said. His eyes became thoughtful. "Every -man has his price, I suppose...." - -A surge of hope coursed through me. Maybe we could dicker. Maybe it -wouldn't cost as much as I was prepared to pay. - -He scratched his chin slowly, then said, "Well--how about your salary -for this trip and five thousand dollars?" His thin lips flicked back in -a grin. "And a promise on your part that you will sign me on for the -next trip--or turn in your Captain's papers?" - -The universe stood still as I saw ruin facing me. There was no way out. -No way out at all. I heard myself blurt, "Why? Why? WHY?" - -He leaned over my desk slowly, his fists planted on it once again, -until his face was scant inches from mine. He whispered, "Because -you're yellow. That's why. You never had any business becoming a -captain." His hoarse, taunting whisper hung in the silence of the room -like the knell of doom. - -There is a madness beyond madness, of that I am sure. I should have -been grovelling in fear, I should have been making a decision to step -into an airlock and eject myself into space, a suicide unable to live -longer with himself, because what he said was true and I knew it was -true beyond any shadow of doubt. - -Instead, I heard myself saying, "All right, Resnick. You win." My voice -was perfectly calm. It was not me. Whatever it was, it was not me, -talking. My part of my mind was in a numb stupor, unable to act, unable -even to think. I heard my voice say, "It's a deal. You promise to lay -off. In return I promise to turn my salary for this trip over to you -when we get paid, and to sign you on for the next trip." My voice was -perfectly calm, even practical. I felt my lips curve into a calculated -and bitter smile of defeat. I heard myself say, "Such an agreement -can't be put into writing, of course, but--shall we drink on it?" - -I saw disappointment, disbelief, amazed surprise, cross his lean -angular features as I rose from behind my desk. As though in a dream I -turned my back on him as I crossed the office to the liquor cabinet, -the prerogative of a space Captain. I opened it up with unshaking -hands. He followed me, came to stand behind me, very close. I lifted -out a bottle of Scotch, the seal still unbroken, and turned to him. - -"Scotch?" I asked. - -He hulked over me, his thin lips stretched into a gleeful grin. "Sure," -he said softly, his lips pasted against his stained teeth. - -He sensed my sudden movement, a movement I was not conscious of -dictating, but he was too slow as the full bottle crashed down on his -skull, shattering and sending a shower of alcohol over his uniform and -the floor. His eyes did not close, but blanked into unconsciousness as -he sagged to the floor. - -I stood there for a moment, blinking down at his unconscious form, not -quite believing what had happened. Even in unconsciousness he sent fear -icing through my veins. - -In one mad moment I had ruined it all. When he recovered he would -be unforgiving, without mercy. For a minute or two I broke down -completely, crying like a baby. - -Then, gradually, a calm settled over me. I turned him over onto his -back and pulled his slack arms together. I took off my belt and wrapped -it around his wrists until I could fasten the buckle firmly. - -Then I went to my cubicle and brought back a roll of adhesive tape and -taped his lips closed, laughing in a low, mad voice that was not my own. - -I used the rest of the roll of tape to fasten his ankles together. And -just as I finished he opened his eyes. - -It took him a few minutes to organize his thoughts and fix his -attention on me, his eyes questioning me. I continued to chuckle under -my breath. I was mad, conscious of the fact that I was mad, and beyond -caring. - -"You have nice eyes," I heard myself say. "Nice soft brown eyes." I -examined his scalp with careful concern for a moment. "Good thing," -I said. "The bottle broke, so there will be no sign of abrasion that -could be proof of anything." - -I took out a cigarette and lit it with trembling fingers, while -he watched me. Blowing out a streamer of smoke and jabbing in his -direction with my fingers, I said, "I'm learning a few things, Resnick. -Already--I'm learning. I wonder how much it will take to break _you_ -down." - -I pushed his head back and tried to put my thumb against his eyeball. -He closed his eyes tightly and I forced his right eye open and pressed -the ball of my thumb against the exposed eyeball. - -"Not too much or it will make your eye bloodshot," I said, in hardly -more than a whisper. "Evidence, you know. Who's going to believe that -the Captain did such a thing? Not even the crew! Sure, they'll agree -with you to keep from being beat up. That is, if you have any stomach -for that sort of thing when I get through with you. I'm just beginning, -you know." - -I lifted my thumb from his eye and squeezed his nostrils together, -watching the terror build up in him, watching his struggles, watching -him grow weaker and weaker, and releasing him at the last moment before -he lost consciousness, and watching his chest heave as he sucked in -lungsful of air. - -"I just thought of something," I said to him. "You wouldn't _dare_ -retaliate after I let you go. To strike me would be treason, punishable -by life imprisonment, wouldn't it? And what would be your defense? -That the Captain had tortured you? Who would believe that? Who are -your witnesses? See how I have stolen your weapons?" I pried his left -eye open and pressed against it with a thumbnail. "A half hour ought -to do it," I taunted. "No marks. I have to be very careful so that an -examination by the ship's doctor won't show a thing." - -In ten minutes--or was it ten eternities?--he became a quivering mass -of flesh. - -I did things to him that left him too weak to move. At the end of half -an hour I pulled the tape off his mouth and listened to him blubber. I -took the tape off his ankles, and the belt off his wrists. I tortured -him some more and he took it. - -"And when I call for you over the intercom," I said, "if you don't come -at once I have you for gross insubordination to your Captain. And if -you so much as touch one member of the crew again I'll call you, boy. -I'll call you." - -Finally I let him go. - - * * * * * - -After he had gone I trembled like a leaf. Slowly a little bit of -sanity returned to me, and with it a realization of what I had done. -Nausea overcame me and I staggered into the washroom and got rid of my -breakfast, then returned to my desk. - -For hours I sat there while my mind picked up the threads of life and -began functioning again. There was still the feeling that Resnick was -omniscient, that he would be able to topple me into disgrace. But with -it, gradually, came the realization that he wouldn't, that he couldn't. - -I had used his own psychological weapons on him, building up in him a -fear psychosis that he couldn't successfully fight. I had turned the -tables. - -I couldn't really believe it just yet, but I couldn't disbelieve it -either. For the next three days I went about my customary routines with -a calm exterior, waiting for the storm to break, but it never did. - -Finally, to test it, I deliberately went on a tour of inspection -through the ship, until I came to where Resnick was working, along -with several others of the crew. As I entered the compartment and saw -him look up, I saw the instinctive cringing that he couldn't help. In -a flash of inspiration I saw that his sadism was a cover for his own -cowardice, a compensation mechanism. - -I knew then that I had won. After one long silent moment I turned my -back on him and left the compartment. - -As I walked by myself to the central tube and pulled myself up to -the Captain's deck, for the first time I began to realize what being -Captain meant. It means a lot of things, of course, but most of all it -means facing up to one's command, being in charge. - -I knew that I would never again be afraid--least of all afraid of Oscar -Resnick. Nor would I ever again be afraid of fear. In the future I -might be faced with the problem of a bully on my crew again, but I -would know how to deal with him--with his own weapons, the ones he used -_because he would be most vulnerable to them himself_. - -When the _Alabama_ reached North Marsport Resnick quit the ship. I was -glad to see him go. The rest of the crew remained with me, and I had no -more trouble during the five years I commanded the _Alabama_. - -David Markham remained with me as my orderly until I retired, and he is -still with me. A few years after the incidents of this story I had an -opportunity to get him a commission but he turned it down and refused -to leave me. Sometimes I think he knows what happened in my office that -day that I called Resnick in, but he has never given any hint whether -he does or not. - -You wonder that I am not ashamed to confess publicly to you that I was -a coward? You shouldn't wonder. We are all cowards--or fools. I am -not ashamed of the fact that once I was a coward. Bravery, in a way, -consists in not being afraid of being afraid. - -Just one thing remains in my story. When I reached North Marsport on -that first leg of my first command, I was a Captain. - -I have been one ever since. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Captain Peabody, by Rog Phillips - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN PEABODY *** - -***** This file should be named 60442.txt or 60442.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/4/4/60442/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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