"Huh?" The officer looked at the package Matt held. The outside was marked, "Seeds, melon, Persian-jumbo fancy, stock #12-Q4728-a"; the envelope inside read "Seed, pansies, giant variegated."
Brunn shook his head. "Let that be a lesson, Dodson- never trust a stock clerk-or you'll wind up half way to Pluto with a gross of brass spittoons when you ordered blank spacecharts."
"What'll I substitute? Cantaloupe?"
"Let's grow some watermelon-the Old Man likes watermelon."
Matt left with watermelon he took along the truant pansy seeds.
Eight weeks later he devised help of sorts by covering a bowl from the galley with the sponge-cellulose sheet, which was used to restrain the solutions used in his farming, thereby to keep said solutions from floating around the "farm" compartment during free fall. He filled his vase with water, arranged his latest crop therein, and clipped the whole to the mess table as a centerpiece.
Captain Yancey smiled broadly when he appeared for dinner and saw the gay display of pansies. "Well, gentlemen," he applauded, "this is most delightful. All the comforts of home!" He looked along the table at Matt. "I suppose we have you to thank for this, Mr. Dodson?"
"Yes, sir." Matt's ears turned pink.
"A lovely idea. Gentlemen, I move that we divest Mr. Dodson of the plebeian title of 'farmer' and designate him Tiorticulturalist extraordinary.' Do I hear a second?" There were nine "ayes" and a loud "no" from Commander Miller. A second ballot, proposed by the Chief Engineer, required the Executive Officer to finish his meal in the galley.
Lieutenant Brunn explained the mishap that resulted in the flower garden. Captain Yancey frowned. "You've checked the rest of your supply of seeds, of course, Mr. Brunn?"