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 plant?" Kron asked curiously.
"No, it's a marine animal with a hard outer shell."