“Take ’em to the lab,” said the technician, engrossed in his work.
MacNeil had digested that carefully. “Yeah?” he’d said at last. “What for?”
The technician had sighed and popped another fruit into a bag. He had attempted to explain things to Broderick MacNeil before and given it up as a bad job. “We just feed ’em to the monkeys, Mac, that’s all.”
“Oh,” said Broderick MacNeil.
Well, that made sense, anyhow. Monkeys got to eat something, don’t they? Sure. And he had gazed at the fruit in interest.
Fresh fruit was something MacNeil missed. He’d heard that fresh fruit was necessary for health, and on Earth he’d always made sure that he had plenty of it. He didn’t want to get sick. But they didn’t ship fresh fruit on an interstellar expedition, and MacNeil had felt vaguely apprehensive about the lack.
Now, however, his problems were solved. He knew that it was strictly against regulations to eat native fruit until the brass said so, but that didn’t worry him too much. He’d heard somewhere that a man can eat anything a monkey can, so he wasn’t worried about it. So he’d tried one. It tasted fine, something like a pear and something like a banana, and different from either. It was just fine.
Since then, he’d managed to eat a couple every day, so’s to get his fresh fruit. It kept him healthy. Today, though, he needed more than just health; he was hungry, and the banana-pears looked singularly tempting.
When he reached the tree, he turned casually around to see if any of the others were watching. They weren’t, but he kept his eye on them while he picked several of the fruit. Then he turned carefully around, and, with his back to the others, masking his movements with his own body, he began to munch contentedly on the crisp flesh of the banana-pears.