Pilar frowned. “As far as I know, yes. But if something kills all the test animals, we don’t ask for humans to try it out. We assume the worst and forget it.” He looked musingly at the wall. “I wonder how many edible plants we’ve by-passed that way?” he asked softly, half to himself.
“What are you going to do next?” the colonel asked. “My men are getting hungry.”
Smathers looked up from the report in alarm, and Pilar had a similar expression on his face.
“For Pete’s sake,” said Smathers, “don’t tell anyone—not anyone—about this, just yet. We don’t want all your men rushing out in the forest to gobble down those things until we are more sure of them. Give us a few more days at least.”
The colonel patted the air with a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll wait until you give me the go-ahead. But I’ll want to know your plans.”
Pilar pursed his lips for a moment before he spoke. “We’ll check up on MacNeil for another forty-eight hours. We’d like to have him transferred over here, so that we can keep him in isolation. We’ll feed him more of the … uh … what’d he call ’em, Smathers?”
“Banana-pears.”
“We’ll feed him more banana-pears, and keep checking. If he is still in good shape, we’ll ask for volunteers.”
“Good enough,” said the colonel. “I’ll keep in touch.”