"Bank account?"
"Stripped clean."
"Bonds? Property? Anything you can convert into cash?"
"Nothing except this sandcar, which you sold me for eight thousand dollars. When I come back, I'll settle my bill with the sandcar."
"If you get back. Sorry, Mr. Morrison. No can do."
"What do you mean?" Morrison asked. "You know I'll pay for the tires."
"And you know the rules on Venus," Eddie said, his mournful face set in obstinate lines. "No credit! Cash and carry!"
"I can't run the sandcar without tires," Morrison said. "Are you going to strand me out here?"
"Who in hell is stranding you?" Eddie asked. "This sort of thing happens to prospectors every day. You know what you have to do now, Mr. Morrison. Call Public Utility and declare yourself a bankrupt. Sign over what's left of the sandcar, equipment, and anything you've found on the way. They'll get you out."