"And what's that got to do with the test?"
"You were making the same sort of sounds in your sleep as you did in the test, and I'm sure they add up to a language of some sort."
"What? You mean to say that was a language? For Pete's sake, I've never spoken anything but English all my life. I can't."
"We know that."
Richardson turned to his wife. "Is this true?" he asked her tensely. "Was I making noises like that in my sleep?"
She nodded miserably.
He threw up his hands. "Okay," he said, "you're three to one. The ace astronaut turns out to be some sort of nut who talks monkey language in his sleep, and when he's awake too, without knowing it." He went to the deep chair and slumped down into it. "What do we do now? Go into analysis again? Start all over?" He laughed shortly and bitterly, and added: "Or do I resign from the project?"
"Listen, Ham," Franstein said. "We're up against something new, something I don't understand, and whatever happens, we've got to try and find out what it is, for your sake as well as for the project's. Let's relax and start with the dream. Tell us what you remember of it."
Richardson took time to calm down before he spoke. "It was just a dream," he began presently. "There was a big spaceship and a lot of people standing about."
"Where was this?"