“Nothing,” Johnny said through almost clenched teeth. “Not a goddam thing!” He didn’t look at Chris; just at Phil. He dropped his hand. Neither one moved. “So _you’re_ the bright boy who’s been making plans?” Johnny laughed, a short ugly bark. “I should of known. Okay, boy, here I am. Still in my head, more or less. You proved your point. Lightning didn’t strike. I made the trip, and so what? What’s next on your list of magic tricks?” “Oh, Christ, Wendt, forget it, will you?” Kutler said. “I didn’t ask to get you here. I only work here.” He turned to Chris. “I’ll see you later, I guess?” He turned to Lee. “I’m sorry.” That was the cue, of course. Johnny took two steps forward and his arm drew back. “Leave. Her. Out. Of. It,” he said. “You. Son. Of. A. Bitch.” For one quick instant, the script almost went through to the end. Something exploded in Phil Kutler’s eyes that Lisa had known must be in the man--because he _was_ a man--but had never seen or heard in any way. Then the doctor reached out again and drew back the male response. “Okay,” he told Johnny mildly. “Have it _your_ way.” He turned and left. The silence he left was like the death of sound after a thunderclap. Johnny stood tense, his arm still half-set for a blow, until the door closed. Then he dropped into the nearest chair, went loose all over, and looked down at the floor. “I guess I figured things a little wrong, Chris,” he said tiredly. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry as all hell.” After a moment he looked up at Lisa, and then away. He said nothing to her. Dimly she knew that--for the first time?--maybe not?--she had had nothing to offer him. _Damn it, oh damn, damn, damn, oh damn it all!_ “Maybe it would be better if we went back down this trip,” Johnny said, still to the floor. “I’ll see if I can work it,” Chris said. Something in his voice made her look closer. It was incredible, but it was true: Chris wasn’t angry; not even disappointed, specially; he just knew it was no good. Maybe he also knew it hurt Johnny even more than it did him to know it; but he no longer cared. It wouldn’t work: that finished it. He went to the cabinet, set a full bottle of Earthside brandy on the table, and two glasses. “Why don’t you two take this along to your place?” he said, casually as though nothing had ended, nothing had even begun. “I’ll see what I can do about shifting some schedules. We might have to try and get you onto a UN ship, okay?” Johnny nodded. “Thanks.” He stood up, started to pass the bottle up, and couldn’t do it. Lee followed. _Damn it_, she thought, _this time he wasn’t even drunk!_ He made up for it. He was drunk _and_ asleep when Chris phoned to the room two hours later. “He’s sleeping,” Lee said softly. “Oh? Well, listen, we’ve got a problem here. I can get _one_ bunk. _Only_ one. UN ship’s full up, a bunch of VIP’s who won’t wait. And I can’t squeeze out more than one here, this trip.”