A transparent canopy covered it, protection from the elements. A sudden rainstorm could drastically alter the concentration of the vital fluids. There was also an electrified fence to keep out stray animals.
Everything except root cells was exposed to the sun and wind. Under these conditions the plant began to recover from the deliberate injury he had done it. Why plants should recover so easily was still a mystery, but generations of plant mechanics had discovered that they always did.
Alsint took the sundown shift. The plant could be left alone at night, locked up with the knowledge that nothing big enough to damage it could get in. It was better if there was someone to make minute adjustments from time to time, but that was not the reason he was there.
Sundown or sunrise, and sundown was better. Either time, men were outside the ship who didn't have to account for their whereabouts. More were out at sundown. And one of them, sooner or later, would be the person he wanted.
The plan was simple. Give the man every opportunity to kill him, make it irresistible—but shoot first. If the man lived, he would talk. If he didn't, there would be some clue in his personal effects. Dangerous, but if Alsint wanted to profit from his plant, he had no choice.
Days passed and no one came near. He could and did retard the regrowth of the plant, but in that respect he was limited. He couldn't be too obvious about it. The time came when he couldn't stall any longer. In reply to the captain's blunt question, he had to admit that in the morning the plant would be in as good condition as he could get it.
He sat that night in the enclosure, knowing this was his last chance. It grew dark and night sounds intruded. The lights in the ship went out. Only the light near him remained. He was careful to sit at the edge of illumination, visible, but a poor target.
Animals snuffled in the brush near the electrified fence. They had learned quickly and knew better than to touch it. And there was another sound—no animal.