"You _did_ succeed in getting the marocca to Gloryanna III?" I asked anxiously, after the elephants had been admired and sent back home. The success of that venture--even if the job had turned out to be more difficult than we had expected--meant an enormous profit to both of us. The fruit of the marocca is delicious and fabulously expensive. The plant grew only on the single planet Mypore II. Transshipped seeds invariably failed to germinate, which explained its rarity. The Myporians were usually, and understandably, bitterly, opposed to letting any of the living plants get shipped off their planet. But when I offered them a sizable piece of cash plus a perpetual share of the profits for letting us take a load of marocca plants to Gloryanna III, they relented and, for the first time in history, gave their assent. In fact, they had seemed delighted. "I got them there safely," said Captain Hannah. "And they are growing all right?" I persisted. "When I left, marocca was growing like mad," said Captain Hannah. I relaxed and leaned back in my chair. I no longer felt the need of rhial for myself. "Tell me about it," I suggested. * * * * * "It was you who said that we should carry those damn plants to Gloryanna III," he said balefully. "I ought to black your other eye." "Simmer down and have some more rhial," I told him. "Sure I get the credit for that. Gloryanna III is almost a twin to Mypore II. You know that marocca takes a very special kind of environment. Bright sun most of the time--that means an almost cloudless environment. A very equable climate. Days and nights the same length and no seasons--that means no ecliptical and no axial tilt. But our tests showed that the plants had enough tolerance to cause no trouble in the trip in _Delta Crucis_." A light dawned. "Our tests were no good?" "Your tests were no good," agreed the captain with feeling. "I'll tell you about it first, and _then_ I'll black your other eye," he decided. "You'll remember that I warned you that we should take some marocca out into space and solve any problems we might find before committing ourselves to hauling a full load of it?" asked Captain Hannah. "We couldn't," I protested. "The Myporians gave us a deadline. If we had gone through all of that rigamarole, we would have lost the franchise. Besides, they gave you full written instructions about what to do under all possible circumstances." "Sure. Written in Myporian. A very difficult language to translate. Especially when you're barricaded in the head." I almost asked him why he had been barricaded in the bathroom of the _Delta Crucis_, but I figured it was safer to let him tell me in his own way, in his own time.