Now completely spruced up, the captain buckled the triple prongs of his white belt, donned his gold-braided space cap and stepped out of the cabin. A live skag stood at the end of the hall waiting for him. Doubt and disbelief wrinkled Jock Warren's brow as he stared at the apparition. He knew he was sober because the Star Rover had passed minus point. His mind groped for an explanation of the skag. There was no explanation--but there was a _solution_. The captain backed into his cabin, locked the door and then searched through his wardroom locker until he found that most precious of all liquids, a flask of narcol. Several good strong slugs slushed down his parched gullet, before his space-hardened nerves approached reasonably good shape. His skin flushed and his arteries warmed by the narcol, he became convinced once more that he had suffered an hallucination. Fantasy or no fantasy, there remained only one way to learn for certain. Jock Warren strode into the corridor. There the skag waited. "Blast it!" the captain rumbled. "You're a balmy hallucination. Out of my way, you scummy dream of a scummy planet!" He lurched towards the creature and his arms attempted to brush away its cobwebby image. Sudden contact with its cold firm flesh electrified him. "Mister Guhn!" his voice rose. "Avast, Mr. Guhn!" The echoes rolled through the ship without answer. When the dead silence renewed itself, Capt. Jock Warren lifted his narcol flask and drank deeply. The skag watched with impassionate curiosity. * * * * * Failing in his search for Rigel on the star charts, K'Gol tried to contact his companions who were exploring and making secure the remainder of the vessel. The skag concluded that the only hope lay to negotiate a truce with the monsters who had built the ship. His companions replied: "That's your task, K'Gol. We must learn the language of these hideous creatures or teach them ours." "I have captured one here, who appears to guide the vessel," beamed K'Gol. "Let me attempt it with him, first." Blue light flamed from the skag, bathing Mark Caldwell's head and throat. Discovering the paralysis lifted, the astrogator rotated his head to exercise stiffened muscles. K'Gol pointed at the individual white dots on a star chart: "Kuuuh-gu." The tones were like a goat chewing tin plate. "Kuuuh-gu," echoed Mark Caldwell. "Oh, you mean stars. Stars." The skag waved to include the bulkheads and deck. "Saaah-gos." The astrogator repeated: "Saaah-gos. Must be ship." "Must be ship," said the skag. Hysterical laughter gripped the officer. From the skag's throat emerged identical sounds, uproarious cackles; but the brilliant eyes barely flickered. * * * * *