"Is it habit-forming?" cried the High Kruv.
"Not a bit," said Brad, mixing it. "Simply take one an hour, forever. And now I must bid you farewell."
"Wait!" cried the Kruv. "Don't you want to take my lovely daughter back with you?"
Brad looked at her. She was lovely. She had scales, but she was lovely. She had magnificent blonde hair, some of it almost an inch long, none of it on her head, but she was lovely.
"... Well," said Brad, hesitatingly. He had his eyes glued on her; when he took them off, they made a noise like vacuum cups: "Pfffopp!"
"Your mother won't like her," whispered Ugh.
"... Well," said Brad. He could feel Duty tugging inside. Not for him the pipe and slippers. He was one of spaceway's men; he would go the spacemen's way, off into waymen's space. Waymen, not women, he told himself sternly. The call of the Ether ... the vacuous void ... the black velvet wastes ... the outspread cloak of the universe, dripping with stardust ... the undreamt-of galaxies ... these were the things by which he lived. "... Well," said Brad.
"C'mon," said Ugh. "We'll only fight over her."
Slowly, they bounded back to their spaceship.
The ship sped backward, headed for Earth. It was days before the mistake was discovered, and this alone spared their lives. For had they completed their journey on schedule—but why be morbid?