Richardson pulled up short in his pacing and turned to the little man. "How can I take it easy? I spend six hours in the capsule in a difficult test, remember every bit of it, come out of it feeling not even tired, and now you tell me that in the middle of it I had some sort of a blackout and made funny noises. That can only mean that there's something wrong with me, and you don't have to tell me what that means. I don't qualify, after all. Is that what you came here to tell me?" * * * * * Franstein's voice was as quiet as before. "It doesn't mean anything of the sort. If there'd been a blackout or if something else had happened to your brain, it would have shown up on the encephalograph, and nothing showed. I didn't know about this until I heard the recording, and we weren't going to say anything about it until we'd run the test a second time. Then Sandra called us to say she couldn't wake you and that you were talking in your sleep, and we came over to find you in a sleep as deep as a coma and obviously dreaming." "And what's that got to do with the test?" "You were making the same sort of sounds in your sleep as you did in the test, and I'm sure they add up to a language of some sort." "_What?_ You mean to say that was a language? For Pete's sake, I've never spoken anything but English all my life. I can't." "We know that." Richardson turned to his wife. "Is this true?" he asked her tensely. "Was I making noises like that in my sleep?" She nodded miserably. He threw up his hands. "Okay," he said, "you're three to one. The ace astronaut turns out to be some sort of nut who talks monkey language in his sleep, and when he's awake too, without knowing it." He went to the deep chair and slumped down into it. "What do we do now? Go into analysis again? Start all over?" He laughed shortly and bitterly, and added: "Or do I resign from the project?" "Listen, Ham," Franstein said. "We're up against something new, something I don't understand, and whatever happens, we've got to try and find out what it is, for your sake as well as for the project's. Let's relax and start with the dream. Tell us what you remember of it." Richardson took time to calm down before he spoke. "It was just a dream," he began presently. "There was a big spaceship and a lot of people standing about." "Where was this?" "Where? I don't know. On Earth, I suppose. Open place, you know, only...." He paused before going on. "Only it wasn't standing up on end like a rocket. It was lying on its side, and we were loading it." "Who were 'we'?" "My father and my two brothers. And that shows how silly the dream was because I haven't got any brothers or father. My father in the dream wasn't anything like my own. He was just an old man, and he told us where to stow the crates." "What was in the crates?"