The Werewolf Principle by Clifford D. Simak

so.”
    â€œPassenger lists wouldn’t tell you much,” said Blake. “I’d be just a name and we don’t know …”
    â€œTrue,” said Daniels, “but there are also fingerprints and voice prints. And you aren’t there.”
    â€œSomehow I got out into space.…”
    â€œYes, we know you did. Also someone froze you. Someone took the trouble to freeze you. If we could find out why someone did that, we’d know a lot more than we do. But, of course, when a ship is lost, the records are lost.”
    â€œI’ve been doing some thinking myself,” said Blake. “We have been presuming all the time that I was frozen so that my life would be spared. Which means it was done before whatever happened to the ship had come about. How could anyone know what was going to happen? Oh, I suppose there would be situations where they would. Have you ever thought that I was frozen and thrown off the ship because they didn’t want me aboard, because I’d done something or they were afraid of me or something of the sort?”
    â€œNo,” said Daniels, “I had never thought of that. I had thought, however, that you may not have been the only one frozen and encapsulated, that it might have been done to others and that they still are out there. You just happened to be the one that was found. Given time, it could be a way in which a long shot could be taken to save some lives—I would suspect important lives.”
    â€œLet’s get back to this business of them giving me the old heave-ho off the ship. If I had been such a louse that they felt they had to pitchfork me into space, why the elaborate attempt to save my life?”
    Daniels shook his head. “I couldn’t even guess. All we’re doing is dealing in assumptions. You may have to resign yourself to the possibility that you will never know. I had hoped that you would be able to dig back to a recognition of your past, but you haven’t so far. There’s a fairly good chance you may never be able to. After a while we can resort to some psychiatric treatment that could help. Although I’ll tell you quite frankly that it may not.”
    â€œAre you telling me to give up?”
    â€œNo. Just trying to tell you the truth. We’ll keep on trying so long as you’re willing to go along with us. But I thought we owed it to you to tell you there is a chance we’ll never get an answer.”
    â€œThat’s fair enough,” said Blake.
    â€œHow did the fishing go the other day?” asked Daniels.
    â€œAll right,” said Blake. “I caught six trout and had a good day in the open. Which, I suspect, was what you wanted.”
    â€œAny hallucinations?”
    â€œYes,” said Blake. “There was a hallucination. I didn’t tell you about it. Just held it back. Decided this morning I’d tell you. What’s one hallucination more or less? When I was out fishing I met a Brownie.”
    â€œOh,” said Daniels.
    â€œDidn’t you hear what I said? I met a Brownie. I talked with him. He ate up most of my lunch. You know what I mean. One of those little folks that appear in children’s stories. With big pointed ears and a high, peaked cap. Only this one didn’t have a cap. And he had a rodent face.”
    â€œYou were fortunate. It’s not many people who ever see a Brownie. Fewer yet who talk with them.”
    â€œYou mean there are such things!”
    â€œWhy, yes, of course there are. A migrant people from the Coonskin stars. Not very many of them. The root stock was brought to earth … oh, I’d guess a hundred, a hundred and fifty years ago. One of the exploration ships. The idea was that the Brownies would visit us for a short while—a sort of cultural exchange, I gather—then would go back home. But they liked it here and formally applied for permission to stay. After that they scattered, disappeared