Thirty seconds later his face twisted into a caricature of the human physiognomy, all writhing lines, as if every muscle were breaking loose from its neighbors. The last unswallowed portion of food erupted from his mouth and he fell forward into the vile mess.
He was dead.
Pandemonium spread through the hall. Everywhere wildly smiling faces expressed despair at such an end for an honored guest. Barnes sprang into action, pulling the portable medical kit from his belt and immediately starting blood tests while some native doctors joined him with their emergency equipment. "Must start revitalizing immediately," he said, then stopped, ashen-faced, as he studied an analyzer tube. "Fantastic! No, it can't be!"
The Newtaneans were equally bewildered. They rushed Hacker to a nearby treatment chamber. All I could do was wait, while the Newtanean leader explained that Hacker had told him we had authorized his trying the food. There was no need to doubt his story. It was just what the kid would have done. I did my best to assure him that we knew his intentions had been honorable.
A half-hour later Barnes returned, a robot platform following with Hacker, body covered by a preservative glaze, on it.
"Nothing can be done," he said. "I've tried everything. Hacker's too thoroughly dead for anything ever to bring him back. We'll just have to take his body home for further study."
"But what killed him?" I demanded.
"A dozen or so things out of a thousand possibilities."
"You mean you don't have any idea?"