"It is a triumph of my own. The product is quite edible and tastes, I assume, much like terrestrial maize, which I have never eaten. The cells possess the same number of genes and chromosomes as Indian maize and it is, therefore, biologically related, although the two types have never been in contact."
"But there must be some difference. Maize doesn't throw radioactive particles at cornhuskers!"
"That," smiled Ghor, "is probably an environmental factor. And it is possible some of the genes are not exactly like maize genes."
Ghor and the two earthmen talked for hours. He showed off his little establishment, buried to conserve heat, under the sand of the asteroid. It was equipped with air purifying apparatus, electrical devices and heaters, all supplied with plant generated power. Ghor cooked a meal, entirely vegetarian, that tasted little different from its terrestrial counterpart. The bread was indistinguishable from that made from wheat flour, the potatoes had exactly the same taste as terrestrial tubers—in fact every item had its counterpart on earth, yet it was supplied from carefully developed plants of the asteroid.
Ghor told other facts about his home.
Dead Man's planet turned on its axis once every nine and one-half hours. Its average temperature was about forty degrees below zero and this temperature remained fairly constant because of the small diameter and surface of the asteroid.
Mick's perplexity over the degree of trust to be placed in Ghor wavered as the conversation continued through the day. Ghor's actions did not appear suspicious. Ghor himself, pale and weak and a product of zero gravity, was hardly to be feared, except through trickery. But there were words, sentences and phrases dropped by the exile from time to time that indicated deep mystery and hidden horror. There were certain unanswered questions that were clues to questions that were not asked.
Behind this mystery, Mick noted a beseeching look that appeared from time to time on Ghor's pinched face. It was the air of a man asking pardon for a crime. Yet, what crime had been committed? Ghor's experiments were contribution to universal knowledge. On earth they would be hailed as discoveries and Ghor would be honored and rewarded for his work. Surely Ghor had committed no crime in his development of alien plants into terrestrial forms.
Ghor's work had been done in the same manner that an experienced airplane pilot flies blind in a fog. He had never seen corn and potatoes, yet he had created them. His sole guides were books in the library and sound motion pictures bearing on botany that had been left behind by Ghor's nameless father. Ghor was more than a Robinson Crusoe; he was a Tarzan in the jungle of space.