"Yeah," Casker said. He was positive his stomach had shrunk to approximately the size of a marble.
"We can assume, first, that their meat is our meat."
Casker wrenched himself away from a vision of five juicy roast beefs dancing tantalizingly before him. "What if their meat is our poison? What then?"
"Then," Hellman said, "we will assume that their poison is our meat."
"And what happens if their meat and their poison are our poison?"
"We starve."
"All right," Casker said, standing up. "Which assumption do we start with?"
"Well, there's no sense in asking for trouble. This is an oxygen planet, if that means anything. Let's assume that we can eat some basic food of theirs. If we can't we'll start on their poisons."
"If we live that long," Casker said.
Hellman began to translate labels. They discarded such brands as androgynites' delight and verbell—for longer, curlier, more sensitive antennae, until they found a small gray box, about six inches by three by three. It was called valkorin's universal taste treat, for all digestive capacities.