"I didn't want to make you miserable."

"Miserable! Hah! This dish is wonderful! What in the name of my First
Ancestor is it?" His pleased grin was enough like a snarl to make
Hartmann cringe in his chair. Since Kron and I were both speaking
Niobian rather than Confed, he didn't understand what was happening. I
suppose he thought that Kron was about to rip my throat out. It was a
natural error, of course. You've seen a dog smile, and wondered what was
going on behind the teeth? Well, Kron looked something like that. A
Niobian with his dog-headed humanoid body is impressive under any
conditions. When he smiles he can be downright frightening.

I winked at Hartmann. "Don't worry, sir," I said. "Everything's all
right."

"It certainly is," Kron said in Confed. "This dish is delicious.
Incidentally, friend Lanceford, what is it? It tastes something like our
Komal, but with a subtle difference of flavor that is indescribable!"

"It's called an oyster cocktail, Kron," I said.

"This is a product of your world we would enjoy!" Kron said. "Although
the sauce is somewhat mild, the flavor of the meat is exquisite!" He
closed his eyes, savoring the taste. "It would be somewhat better with
vanka," he said musingly. "Or perhaps with Kala berries."

I shuddered. I had tried those sauces once. Once was enough! I could
still feel the fire.

"I wonder if you could ship them to us," Kron continued.

Hartmann's ears pricked up at the word "ship." It looked like an opening
gambit for a fast sales talk on behalf of interstellar trade, a subject
dear to his heart.

But I was puzzled. I couldn't figure it out until I tried one of the
oysters--after which I knew! Some fool had dished them up in straight
tobasco sauce! It took some time before I could talk, what with trying
to wash the fire out of my mouth, and during the conversational hiatus
Hartmann picked up the ball where I dropped it. So I sat by and
listened, my burned mouth being in no condition for use.

* * * * *

"I'm afraid that we couldn't ship them," Hartmann said. "At least not on
a commercial basis. Interstellar freight costs are prohibitive where
food is concerned."

Kron nodded sadly. He passed the oysters to Tovan Harl, his fellow First
Councilor. Harl went through the same reaction pattern Kron had shown.

"However," Hartmann continued, "we could send you a few dozen. Perhaps
you could start a small oyster farm."

"Is this a pl