Earth maintained an important garrison onAsteroid Y-3. Now suddenly it was imperiled witha biological impossibility—men becoming plants!
"Well, Corporal Westerburg,"Doctor Henry Harrissaid gently, "just why do youthink you're a plant?"
As he spoke, Harris glanced downagain at the card on his desk. Itwas from the Base Commander himself,made out in Cox's heavyscrawl: Doc, this is the lad I toldyou about. Talk to him andtry to find out how he got this delusion.He's from the new Garrison,the new check-station on AsteroidY-3, and we don't wantanything to go wrong there. Especiallya silly damn thing like this!
Harris pushed the card aside andstared back up at the youth acrossthe desk from him. The youngman seemed ill at ease and appearedto be avoiding answering the questionHarris had put to him. Harrisfrowned. Westerburg was a good-lookingchap, actually handsome inhis Patrol uniform, a shock of blondhair over one eye. He was tall, almostsix feet, a fine healthy lad,just two years out of Training, accordingto the card. Born in Detroit.Had measles when he wasnine. Interested in jet engines,tennis, and girls. Twenty-six yearsold.
"Well, Corporal Westerburg,"Doctor Harris said again. "Why doyou think you're a plant?"
The Corporal looked up shyly.He cleared his throat. "Sir, I ama plant, I don't just think so. I'vebeen a plant for several days, now."
"I see." The Doctor nodded. "Youmean that you weren't always aplant?"
"No, sir. I just became a plantrecently."
"And what were you before youbecame a plant?"
"Well, sir, I was just like therest of you."
There was silence. Doctor Harristook up his pen and scratched afew lines, but nothing of importancecame. A plant? And such a healthy-lookinglad! Harris removedhis steel-rimmed glasses and polishedthem with his handkerchief. Heput them on again and leaned backin his chair. "Care for a cigarette,Corporal?"
"No, sir."
The Doctor lit one himself, restinghis arm on the edge of thechair. "Corporal, you must realizethat there are very few men whobecome plants, especially on suchshort notice. I have to admit youare the first person who has evertold me such a thing."
"Yes, sir, I realize it's quite rare."
"You can understand why I'm interested,then. When you say you'rea plant, you mean you're not capableof mobility? Or do you meanyou're a vegetable, as opposed to ananimal? Or just what?"
The Corporal looked away. "Ican't tell you any more," he murmured."I'm sorry, sir."
"Well, would you mind telling mehow you became a plant?"
Corporal Westerburg hesitated.He stared down at the floor, thenout the window at the spaceport,then at a fly on the desk. At lasthe stood up, getting slowly to hisfeet. "I can't even tell you that,sir," he said.
"You can't? Why not?"
"Because—because I promisednot to."
The room was silent. DoctorHarris rose, too, and they bothstood facing each other. Harrisfrowned, rubbing his jaw. "Corporal,just who did you promise?"
"I can't even tell you that, sir.I'm sorry."
The Doctor considered this. Atlast he went to the door and openedit. "All right, Corporal. You maygo now. And thanks for your time."
"I'm sorry I'm not more helpful."The Corporal went slowly out andHarris closed the door after him.Then he went across his office tothe vidphone. He rang CommanderCox's letter. A moment later thebeefy good-natured face of the BaseCommander ap