PAGE 5
Cum Grano Salis
by
At the time, however, the members of the expedition didn’t know any of that information for sure. The probe teams had made spot checks and taken random samples, but it was up to the First Analytical Expedition to make sure of everything.
And this much they had discovered: The plants of Alphegar IV had a nasty habit of killing test animals.
* * * * *
“Of course,” said Dr. Pilar, “we haven’t tested every plant yet. We may come across something.”
“What is it that kills the animals?” asked young Captain Bellwether.
“Poison,” said Major Grodski.
Pilar ignored him. “Different things. Most of them we haven’t been able to check thoroughly. We found some vines that were heavily laced with cyanide, and there were recognizable alkaloids in several of the shrubs, but most of them are not that direct. Like Earth plants, they vary from family to family; the deadly nightshade is related to both the tobacco plant and the tomato.”
He paused a moment, scratching thoughtfully at his beard.
“Tell you what; let’s go over to the lab, and I’ll show you what we’ve found so far.”
Colonel Fennister nodded. He was a military man, and he wasn’t too sure that the scientists’ explanations would be very clear, but if there was information to be had, he might as well make the most of it.
* * * * *
SM/2 Broderick MacNeil kept a firm grip on his blast rifle and looked around at the surrounding jungle, meanwhile thanking whatever gods there were that he hadn’t been put on the fence-mending detail. Not that he objected violently to work, but he preferred to be out here in the forest just now. Breakfast hadn’t been exactly filling, and he was hungry.
Besides, this was his pet detail, and he liked it. He had been going out with the technicians ever since the base had been finished, a couple of weeks before, and he was used to the work. The biotechnicians came out to gather specimens, and it was his job, along with four others, to guard them–make sure that no wild animal got them while they were going about their duties. It was a simple job, and one well suited to MacNeil’s capacities.
He kept an eye on the technicians. They were working on a bush of some kind that had little thorny-looking nuts on it, clipping bits off here and there. He wasn’t at all sure what they did with all those little pieces and bits, but that was none of his business, anyway. Let the brains take care of that stuff; his job was to make sure they weren’t interrupted in whatever it was they were doing. After watching the three technicians in total incomprehension for a minute or so, he turned his attention to the surrounding forest. But he was looking for a plant, not an animal.
And he finally saw what he was looking for.
The technicians paid him no attention. They rarely did. They had their job, and he had his. Of course, he didn’t want to be caught breaking regulations, but he knew how to avoid that catastrophe. He walked casually toward the tree, as though he were only slightly interested in it.
He didn’t know what the name of the tree was. He’d asked a technician once, and the tech had said that the tree didn’t have any name yet. Personally, MacNeil thought it was silly for a thing not to have a name. Hell, everything had a name.
But, if they didn’t want to tell him what it was, that was all right with him, too. He called it a banana-pear tree.
Because that’s what the fruit reminded him of.