"Well," Bransten went on, "that sort of thing mushrooms. The natives are a simple, almost childish people. It appealed to them—the Joe business, I mean. Now they're all Joe. They like it. That and the cigarettes."
He cleared his throat and looked at me apologetically as if he were personally responsible for Venusian culture. In fact, he looked as if he were responsible for having put Venus in the heavens in the first place.
"Do you understand, Major? Just a case of extended idiom, that's all."
Just a case of extended idiot, I thought. An idiot on a wild goose chase a hell of a long way from home.
"I understand perfectly," I snapped. "Where are my quarters?"
Bransten asked a Venusian named Joe to show me my quarters, reminding me that chow was at thirteen hundred. As I was leaving, the first Venusian came back with the cigarettes Bransten had ordered.
I could tell by the look on his face that he probably had half a carton stuffed into his pockets. I shrugged and went to change into a tropical tunic.
I called Earth right after chow. The Captain assured me that this sort of thing was definitely against regulations, but he submitted when I twinkled my little gold leaf under his nose.
Walsh's face appeared on the screen. He was smiling, looking like a fat pussy cat.
"What is it, Major?" he asked.