"You'll grow used to it," the guard promised. He patted his paunch happily. "I am. Well, don't raise the alarm unless there's some trouble. Remember about the boy who cried wolf." "Of course," said Temple. "Sure. Sorry." He watched the guard depart. "Bad dream?" Arkalion wanted to know. "Bad dream, my foot. I accidentally hit you. Hard enough to hurt. You didn't move." "I'm a sound sleeper." "I felt for your heart. It wasn't beating. It wasn't!" "Oh, come, come." "Your heart was not beating, I said." "And I suppose I was cold as a slab of ice?" "Umm, no. I don't remember. Maybe you were. You had no pulse, either." Arkalion laughed easily. "And am I still dead?" "Well--" "Clearly a case of overwrought nerves and a highly keyed imagination. What you need is some more sleep." "I'm not sleepy, thanks." "Well, I think I'll get up and go down for breakfast." Arkalion climbed out of bed gingerly, made his way to the sink and was soon gargling with a bottle of prepared mouthwash, occasionally spraying weightless droplets of the pink liquid up at the ceiling. Temple lit a cigarette with shaking fingers, made his way to Arkalion's bed while the man hummed tunelessly at the sink. Temple let his hands fall on the sheet. It was not cold, but comfortably cool. Hardly as warm as it should have been, with a man sleeping on it all night. Was he still imagining things? "I'm glad you didn't call for a burial detail and have me expelled into space with yesterday's garbage," Arkalion called over his shoulder jauntily as he went outside for some breakfast. Temple cursed softly and lit another cigarette, dropping the first one into a disposal chute on the wall. * * * * * Every night thereafter, Temple made it a point to remain awake after Arkalion apparently had fallen asleep. But if he were seeking repetition of the peculiar occurrence, he was disappointed. Not only did Arkalion sleep soundly and through the night, but he snored. Loudly and clearly, a wheezing snore. Arkalion's strange feat--or his own overwrought imagination, Temple thought wryly--was good for one thing: it took his mind off Stephanie. The days wore on in endless, monotonous routine. He took some books from the ship's library and browsed through them, even managing to find one concerned with traumatic catalepsy, which stated that a severe emotional shock might render one into a deep enough trance to have a layman mistakenly pronounce him dead. But what had been the severe emotional disturbance for Arkalion? Could the effects of weightlessness manifest themselves in that way in rare instances? Temple naturally did not know, but he resolved to find out if he could after reaching their destination.