“So,” Daniels opined aloud, “assuming then that it didn’t get here on its own… who planted it?” “What do you think, Walter? What are the odds of finding terrestrial vegetation this far from Earth? Never mind cultivated, edible vegetation.” “I don’t know much about parallel evolution, but I’d have to say that finding something here that tastes almost exactly like stuff I tasted as a boy would be one hell of a coincidence.” He eyed the synthetic. He flicked what remained off his fingertip. Too much taste to be an accidental offshoot. “This is old, a primitive variety, but definitely cultivated. Believe me, I know wheat.” He took a second taste, turned thoughtful. “Plain, ordinary, bland, bread-making wheat. Taking note of her anxious expression, Lopé smiled reassuringly and gestured at the field in which they stood. Even Walter looked up from his multiunit and watched the sergeant closely.
To Daniels’ astonishment, Lopé then brought what remained in his palm up to his tongue, and tasted it. Picking up the loose chaff, the breeze carried it off toward the nearby mountains. Before she could object, he rubbed the residue between his palms, brought it close to his face, and blew part of it away. In complete violation of proper expedition procedure, Sergeant Lopé was crushing the top of one of the golden stalks between his fingers. Looking ahead, she saw that two of the lead security team had stopped. Despite the increasingly uncomfortable ongoing silence she was glad that the grass, at least, did not make any noise. Pale gold instead of green, the stalks swayed in perfect unison with the prevailing gentle breeze. After climbing a lightly vegetated slope, the expedition team found themselves pushing through a flat field of some kind of tall grass. Daniels moved up so that she was walking alongside Walter.
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