Garcia groaned. "God. Is that right, Captain? Is that what happened? I—I can't remember."
"I'm afraid so," sighed the captain. To himself, he said, And I pray you never remember.
Then he saw Taaleeb glancing anxiously toward the forest. How strong was the Sirian telepathic sense? Strong enough to send to the village for help?
His fingers were hot and moist on the pistol in his pocket. He struggled to put down the rising anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.
"Taaleeb," he said, "better have your men take the vines aboard."
"Yes," said Taaleeb, smiling. The Sirians carried the vines to the airlock, laid them within.
"What's the idea of that?" asked Lieutenant Washington.
"It was their idea," the captain lied. "Those vines will grow rapidly in our hydroponics tanks. They'll produce something like a bottle of wine for each of them once a month. That'll be something to make their trip a little more pleasant. And that shows they're intelligent, doesn't it?"
He motioned toward the rocket. "The Sirians want to leave for Earth now, men. Get whatever gear you want out of the ship."
"They're leaving now?" asked Fox.