He faced her squarely and his eyes, she noted, were less bloodshot and oddly steady as he looked into hers. "You don't know. It isn't generally known, I suppose, anywhere in the System. We can't go back." "You can't give it up?" "That among other things. But no ship will take a t'anger, even as a passenger. That's what they call us, when not worse. They say it's incurable. Lord knows I couldn't disprove it. I can't give it up, and, if they took it away from me ..." he shrugged and a chill rippled up her spine. "You might say we're marooned here, on Mars, on Pluto, on Venus ... all who take up with these weird native brews and weirder natives. We don't go back. We can't. And we don't want to." "I can't believe that," she protested. Then, at his tragic, sidelong glance, she hastened on. "But this t'ang? What is it? How--how did _you_ ever come to--to get mixed up with such...?" She floundered helplessly, and some inborn instinct of gentility prompted him to rise and scan the sea for a moment. Then he turned, watching her. Again his eyes and fingers sought a ragged strip of scarlet tunic to twist aimlessly. "It wasn't much," he admitted. "There was a crash a couple of years ago. Faulty tube drive. We lost some passengers and all our stores. It was a two-hundred mile trek to Luxtol City, over the Phidian desert. I suppose you saw it, flying up here. Nothing but t'ang bushes ... and their berries to eat. I got the taste and it's...." His voice faded away and, looking up, she saw a strange wryness pass over his face. * * * * * Then he shrugged, laughing. "What's the use? You're not for that old line. Just a line. A sponger's plea." His voice stung. "It got money once. Handouts. And now it's worn out and I can tell you the truth ... a simpler truth than a simple lie. No, I didn't get the taste in any such soul-satisfying way. T'ang berries are deadly poisonous. "I was young and a fool for luck with gun or ship. I dragged in a little fame, notoriety if you will, breaking up a gang or two preying on the International. We pioneered, those days, and drank. Lots of things, among them t'ang. Grandstanding to the old-timers. Nothing could down the great Jeff Thorne. I took a drink--and another. You see the result. Two years ago I was cock of the walk and king of the space-ways; today a snotty drags me out of the muck to keep me from stifling ... and no great favor, either." She was silent for a long time. Then she took up her hat and slowly rose to her feet. "It's too late, then?" There was sadness in her eyes as she met his sullen glance. He shrugged and turned away, deliberately rude. There was the rumble of the sea beneath it all. "Too late." "Is--is there anything...?"