"First of all, Nicholas, you know that crew wasn't murdered or anything of the kind. And you know, and Dobermann realizes that you know _he_ knows, that K'hall-i-k'hall was lying in his teeth. And K'hall-i-k'hall knows _we_ know it." Joel lowered his eyes. "All right, Sam," he said. No, there hadn't been any use in trying to drum up a bunch of tripe--no use in trying to fool Sam. He had known that from the start. But sometimes--sometimes, even when a man knew he was fooling himself, he had to give it a try, just to see-- "They went native, didn't they, Sam?" he said. "Yes, Skipper. They did. Somebody back where they came from needed that mneurium-4 real bad. Somebody had guts and sweat and brains enough to get ships into space looking for it. And in their own way, somebody had faith enough to think they'd get it if it was to be found. Only, as you say--" "Liked it here, I suppose. Liked it better than anything they'd ever seen before--and that can of theirs had a thumping set of drives, so they'd seen plenty." There was silence for a moment. And then Sam said, "Well, Nicholas, there it is. The psychology of the thing is obvious enough, isn't it?" Carruthers gave him a meaningful look, and Joel's nerves rebelled at it. "All right, I get your point!" A big fist slammed down on the desktop. "So somebody didn't get their mneurium-4! Somebody probably ornery enough to keep on living anyway. What do you want to bet they're still going strong, who or wherever they are out in that black hell up there? What do you want to bet, Sam?" The surgeon's thin lips smiled gently. "I'd bet right along with you, Nicholas. They're probably still going strong. I imagine they made out." "But K'hall-i-k'hall--" "Is proprietor of a very pleasant world. A world of very nice people, Nicholas, who enjoy living in their way, and get a kick out of seeing other people enjoy it. They think a little differently than a lot of folks." "That makes 'em bad, I suppose?" "No." Joel looked into the thin face, the intent, dark eyes. The look was in them. And Joel guessed he was finally letting himself realize what the look really meant. It was a look that meant a hunger for all that Joel hated, and more.... It was a look that meant, even now after all these years, that Sam still hurt inside, and hurt badly. "Why--why couldn't it have been the other way _around_, Sam," Joel said hoarsely. The other looked up at him. "You do hate it that much, don't you." "Look Sam, you've gotta get my point! I don't think that crew did anything wrong! They didn't. They just decided to stop being hunks of machinery." Carruthers smiled. "I get your point, Skipper. And I'm going to let you figure this one out all by yourself. But I'd like to tell you something first, just sort of as a point of information; maybe it'll help. Skipper, I had a girl once, too." Joel stood still. Then he turned, opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it hard shut.