Garth sobered. "Nothing much. Only for five years I've been sweating blood trying to get into the Forest, and I know the place better than anybody on Ganymede. See this?" He rolled up his sleeve and exhibited a purplish scar along his arm. "A cannibal-plant did that. I couldn't get away from the thing. Bullets and knives don't hurt the bloodsucker. I had to stand there for two hours, helpless, till it got all the blood it wanted. After that I managed to pull away."
"I've picked up a few scars myself," Brown said quietly.
Garth glared at him. "Not in the Black Forest. The only way to get through that pest-hole is with a big, armed expedition. Even then ... you ever heard of the Noctoli?"
"No. Who—"
"Flowers. Their pollen works funny—plenty funny. They grow in the interior, and they give you amnesia. Not even gas-masks help. The stuff works in through your skin."
"Doesn't it affect you?" the girl wanted to know.
Garth shivered and drank again. "It did—once. Later I managed to work out an antitoxin. And I've built up immunity, anyway. But it's quite a laugh. The two of you wanting to go into the Black Forest!"
Brown's face was emotionless. "With an expedition, well armed. I'll provide that."
"Oh. That's a bit different. Just the same—what are you after?"
"Just sightseeing," the girl said.