A disgraced space pilot, a crashed ship, thirty-three dead. Charles Farradyne was once a star pilot until the Semiramide came down in Venus's Bog, killing everyone aboard. Now he wastes away in the rot of Venus's fungal fields, a living reminder of the worst mistake a spaceman can make. When a government agent offers him one path back to the cool silence of deep space, he takes it: infiltrate the syndicate trafficking the Hellflower, a flower that weaponizes desire itself, twisting users into puppets of their own hungers. But the job pulls him into the orbit of Norma Hannon, a woman whose life was shattered by the very poison he now must sell. What follows is a fever dream of guilt, compulsion, and the question of whether a man who destroyed thirty-three lives can ever do anything but multiply the damage. George O. Smith's 1952 novel pulses with noir desperation and pulpy urgency, a story about the things we do to escape ourselves and the price the universe demands in return.
