"We aren't through yet," Andy said quickly. "What about the tourist industry? If you'd allow visitors and advertise a little...."
"No," the Everking shouted, in Galactic.
"We tried that during the last reign," Blahrog said. "It didn't work."
"You're pretty far off the shipping lanes, I'll admit," Andy said, "but surely you could attract enough tourists from somewhere to show a profit."
"We showed a profit," Blahrog said morosely.
He translated a remark of the Everking's. "We made money hand over fist."
"Then why did you quit?" Andy was baffled. "Why did you restrict the planet?"
"Because of the way we happen to look."
"Like leprechauns," Miss Featherpenny explained. "And Hrom looks exactly like a little Christmas fairy."
Blahrog winced. "The tourists found us amusing. We weren't real to them. It became difficult for us to seem real to ourselves. Most of my generation couldn't grow up. The birth rate dropped. We closed the planet to keep the race alive. That's all there is to it."