Martha Harkins smiled faintly. "A service wife gets used to just about everything, general." "Unfortunately true. If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to your technician. Has Dr. Meany explained what we want you to do?" "Yes, I think so." "Good." "Just one thing, Mrs. Harkins," Colin put in. "This may take some time. It may be we'll want you to cut a tape with a request to leave the ship, if we can't get any response from live voice. Repetition is the important thing, and the sound of your voice." "All right. I'll do whatever you say." She turned away briefly, but not before Colin saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Banning led her over to the radio console, saw her seated and instructed in the use of the equipment, and returned to Colin. "What do you think?" he said. "She'll do." "Will it work?" "How the hell do I know?" the psychiatrist answered roughly. They were silent for a moment, watching the small figure of the woman leaning forward tensely over the microphone, as if by her nearness she might make her husband hear. "You know," Banning said musingly, "I get the feeling this is all the fault of SpaServ, somehow. Some little thing we overlooked. A little more training, maybe." The woman's soft voice droned on, not quite carrying distinctly to the two men, though the warmth and urgency of it was evident in her tone. "I think you did all right with your training," Colin said finally. "He came back, didn't he?" 4. Harkins slept only lightly, turning restlessly in the large control chair. Finally the pain of his headache increased to the point he could no longer sleep at all, even lightly. Just before he wakened, he thought he heard a sound at once intolerably loud and somehow soothing. Which was impossible, of course. Opening the viewport shutter a crack, he found the land outside lit ambiguously by the false dawn that was beginning to spread against the eastern hills. He took several more of the white pills for his headache. Briefly he considered eating something, but abandoned the idea. The pain was so intense, he didn't think he could keep anything down. He found the illusion he had noted yesterday--the whispering sound he could not hear when he tried--was still there. It was even worse now. All about him was the flickering shadow of a sound, demanding his attention, requesting. And still--when he tried to hear it, it was gone. He pressed his knuckles against his forehead and clenched his eyes tightly shut. If only he had something to do to take his mind off the headache and the elusive sound.... But there was nothing to do. With neither the Skipdrive nor the atomics operating, he had not even the routine powerchecks to keep him occupied. _Then why am I here?_