Merrol strapped himself in and hoped the other man was right. The examiner went to the door, turned and grinned. "Watch out for the interplanetary goose," he called and snapped the switch. Merrol was now in a ship. In the back of his mind there was some doubt of his ability, but it didn't reach as far as his fingers. Rockets vibrated beneath him. Outside, he could see the glazed earth-slick. He touched the power and climbed above the clouds. The sky turned black and there were stars. He checked position. The tester had given him a setup. The Moon was out of the way and the run to Mars was the shortest on record. If he couldn't handle this, he wasn't a pilot. The seat jabbed him suddenly. That's what he'd been warned about--he'd been expecting it and still wasn't prepared. The tempathy drugs flooded into him and the needle was withdrawn. Takeoff and landing were always rehearsed on the pilot's own time. The ends of a voyage were critical and it was essential to have an undistorted reaction. Besides, neither took long. The time between one planet and the next was long and nothing much happened, so it could be shortened without deleterious effect on the results. Tempathy drugs shortened it, though not completely. Part of a man's consciousness went along at normal speed and the rest, that which counted in jockeying rockets, was enormously telescoped. It telescoped on Merrol. He couldn't see. Rather, part of him could but, for the other fraction, images passed in front of his eyes too fast for his mind to evaluate. Weeks flipped past in minutes. It was a dream world turned inside out--the roles of consciousness and unconsciousness were reversed. There was something wrong with the sounds he half-heard. He could get emotions, though he couldn't separate them into sense. There were additional voices that shouldn't be there--the mechanical crew spoke to him giving silent data--but there were other actual voices, fearful or consolatory. He tried to speak, but his vocal cords were preempted. He was doing it all, speaking, moving the controls, directing the ship between planets. It ought to be easier than takeoff, but it wasn't. He shouldn't be afraid of anything he might find out there--which was nothing--but that didn't alter conditions. He was profoundly disturbed, and he hoped the tester noticed it. The examiner did spot trouble. He opened the door and reversed the switch. Lights went on, and another needle speared him, counteracting the effects of the tempathy drugs. Slowly the ship disappeared, space along with it, and the room whirled back into view and settled down. Something handed him back his eyes and ears. "Easy," said the man. "Sit there. You don't have to move. We'll find out what's wrong. It may not be serious at all." * * * * *