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Carson gulped. “But how will you pay her fare?” He asked sternly. “You’re in debt to the Company yourself.”

Lon Simpson jerked his thumb toward his barn. Carson turned and looked. It was a nice-looking barn. The aluminum siding set it off against a backing of shiver trees, dhil and giant sketit growth. Carson’s eyes bugged out. Lon’s barn was packed so tightly with thanar leaves that they bulged out the doors.

“I need to turn some of that stuff in, anyhow,” said Lon pleasantly. “I haven’t got storage space for it. By law you have to buy it at five credits a kilo. I wish you’d send out and get some. I’d like to build up some credit. Think I’ll take a trip back to Earth.”

At this moment, there was a very peculiar wave of heat. It was not violent, but the temperature went up about four degrees—suddenly, as if somebody had turned on a room heater.

But still nobody looked up at the sun.

Rattled, Carson demanded furiously if Lon had converted other local foliage into thanar leaves, as he’d made his green peas and the other stuff he’d told Cathy about on the beamphone. Lon tensed, and observed to the other colonists that evidently all beamphones played into recorders. The atmosphere became unfriendly. Carson got more rattled still. He began to wave his arms and sputter.