I rang the bell. Jansen appeared. “Bring in the meat,” I said. “It’s feeding time.”
I turned to the somewhat puzzled Venusian. “This is one of our first products,” I said. “An opening, fumbling effort, shall we say? You’ll note that our interests are chiefly in the flora, unlike yours.”
I drew back the curtain and revealed one of the Venusian carnivorous plants. This one was some ten feet in height. It reared up from the floor like an immense bear, with its great nauseating tendrils waving slowly back and forth in the air. It made me sick.
I heard a little strangled cry of amazement come from the Venusian’s throat, and I swear his blue skin turned a tinge greener.
Jansen reappeared, pushing a little truck to which some poor Venusian beast was clamped—an animal almost the size of a man. He rolled the little truck along the floor.
As soon as it came within reach, one of those immense undulating tendrils came pouncing down on it. I watched, sickened, but yet enjoying the whole thing.
The plant fed, noisily.
I shook Garvey’s hand. “Wonderful Job, Frank,” I said sincerely. “I’ve just had word from Hilary that the Venusian Embassy on Earth is scared witless; they’ve made all sorts of concessions in the new Treaty provided we destroy our carnivorous plant before it has a chance to spread any seeds. They’ve even agreed to turn over some genetics information to us.”
I shuddered, and knew how the Venusians must have taken it. They’d be willing to do almost anything provided we killed that plant.
I drew out my blaster and clicked the safety.
“What are you going to do?” Garvey asked suddenly, paling. My respect for him, which had been building ever since he’d produced that marvelous horror, melted immediately. Away from his lab, he was still a fool. I’ll bet he expected me to blast him down where he stood.
“I’m going to get rid of your pet,” I said.
“What for?”
“Because, you damned idiot, it’s dangerous to the whole of Venusian society, and we’ve already agreed to destroy it before it breeds. Why, if that thing started seeding—”
Suddenly Garvey burst into chuckles. I thought he’d split from laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I snapped.
“You never did learn anything about science, did you, Mart? I didn’t do any genetic engineering on that plant, man—all I did was blow up one specimen with my hormones, same as I did with that tomato I showed you. But that’s not a mutation. It won’t breed big plants any more than a rat with his tail chopped off will breed tailless rats. Any offspring of our plant here will be small-sized, of course, and so there’s nothing to fear from him. Unless you go too close to him.”
“You can’t be too careful.”
“No,” he said dreamily. I looked at him. He seemed to be floating somewhere.
“What’s with you?”
“I was just thinking,” he said. “When the Venusians get around to turning over their techniques to us—”
“What then?”
“Think of the wonderful tomatoes we’ll grow!” he said, almost shouting. “And they’ll breed true!”
I smiled. What else can you do?