"No." Kramer shook his head. "Damn it, there ought to be a better solution." "Could you contact _him_?" Winter asked. "The Old Man? Try to reason with him?" "It's worth a chance," Gross said. "Try it." "All right." Kramer took the microphone. He paused a moment. "Listen! Can you hear me? This is Phil Kramer. Can you hear me, Professor. Can you hear me? I want you to release the controls." There was silence. "This is Kramer, Professor. Can you hear me? Do you remember who I am? Do you understand who this is?" Above the control panel the wall speaker made a sound, a sputtering static. They looked up. "Can you hear me, Professor. This is Philip Kramer. I want you to give the ship back to us. If you can hear me, release the controls! Let go, Professor. Let go!" Static. A rushing sound, like the wind. They gazed at each other. There was silence for a moment. "It's a waste of time," Gross said. "No--listen!" The sputter came again. Then, mixed with the sputter, almost lost in it, a voice came, toneless, without inflection, a mechanical, lifeless voice from the metal speaker in the wall, above their heads. "... Is it you, Philip? I can't make you out. Darkness.... Who's there? With you...." "It's me, Kramer." His fingers tightened against the microphone handle. "You must release the controls, Professor. We have to get back to Terra. You must." Silence. Then the faint, faltering voice came again, a little stronger than before. "Kramer. Everything so strange. I was right, though. Consciousness result of thinking. Necessary result. Cognito ergo sum. Retain conceptual ability. Can you hear me?" "Yes, Professor--" "I altered the wiring. Control. I was fairly certain.... I wonder if I can do it. Try...." Suddenly the air-conditioning snapped into operation. It snapped abruptly off again. Down the corridor a door slammed. Something thudded. The men stood listening. Sounds came from all sides of them, switches shutting, opening. The lights blinked off; they were in darkness. The lights came back on, and at the same time the heating coils dimmed and faded. "Good God!" Winter said. Water poured down on them, the emergency fire-fighting system. There was a screaming rush of air. One of the escape hatches had slid back, and the air was roaring frantically out into space. The hatch banged closed. The ship subsided into silence. The heating coils glowed into life. As suddenly as it had begun the weird exhibition ceased. "I can do--everything," the dry, toneless voice came from the wall speaker. "It is all controlled. Kramer, I wish to talk to you. I've been--been thinking. I haven't seen you in many years. A lot to discuss. You've changed, boy. We have much to discuss. Your wife--" The Pilot grabbed Kramer's arm. "There's a ship standing off our bow. Look." * * * * * They ran to the port. A slender pale craft was moving along with them, keeping pace with them. It was signal-blinking.