Cum Grano Salis

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, LN Yaddanapudi andthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team athttps://www.pgdp.net

  CUM GRANO SALIS.

  BY DAVID GORDON

  Illustrated by Emsh

  _Just because a man can do something others can't does not, unfortunately, mean he knows how to do it. One man could eat the native fruit and live ... but how?_

  "And that," said Colonel Fennister glumly, "appears to be that."

  The pile of glowing coals that had been Storage Shed Number One wasstill sending up tongues of flame, but they were nothing compared withwhat they'd been half an hour before.

  "The smoke smells good, anyway," said Major Grodski, sniffingappreciatively.

  The colonel turned his head and glowered at his adjutant.

  "There are times, Grodski, when your sense of humor is out of place."

  "Yes, sir," said the major, still sniffing. "Funny thing for lightningto do, though. Sort of a dirty trick, you might say."

  "_You_ might," growled the colonel. He was a short, rather roundish man,who was forever thankful that the Twentieth Century predictions ofskin-tight uniforms for the Space Service had never come true. He hadround, pleasant, blue eyes, a rather largish nose, and a rumbling bassovoice that was a little surprising the first time you heard it, butwhich seemed to fit perfectly after you knew him better.

  Right at the moment, he was filing data and recommendations in hismemory, where they would be instantly available for use when he neededthem. Not in a physical file, but in his own mind.

  _All right, Colonel Fennister_, he thought to himself, _just what doesthis mean--to me? And to the rest?_

  The Space Service was not old. Unlike the Air Service, the Land Service,or the Sea Service, it did not have centuries or tradition behind it.But it had something else. It had something that none of the otherServices had--_Potential_.

  In his own mind, Colonel Fennister spelled the word with an upper case_P_, and put the word in italics. It was, to him, a more potent wordthan any other in the Universe.

  Potential.

  _Potential!_

  Because the Space Service of the United Earth had more potential thanany other Service on Earth. How many seas were there for the Sea Serviceto sail? How much land could the Land Service march over? How manyatmospheres were there for the Air Service to conquer?

  Not for any of those questions was there an accurate answer, but foreach of those questions, the answer had a limit. But how much space wasthere for the Space Service to conquer?

  Colonel Fennister was not a proud man. He was not an arrogant man. Buthe _did_ have a sense of destiny; he _did_ have a feeling that the humanrace was going somewhere, and he did not intend that that feeling shouldbecome totally lost to humanity.

  Potential.

  Definition: _Potential; that which has a possibility of coming intoexistence._

  No, more than that. That which has a--

  * * * * *

  He jerked his mind away suddenly from the thoughts which had crowdedinto his forebrain.

  What were the chances that the first expedition to Alphegar IV wouldsucceed? What were the chances that it would fail?

  And (Fennister grinned grimly to himself) what good did it do tocalculate chances after the event had happened?

  Surrounding the compound had been a double-ply, heavy-gauge, wovenfence. It was guaranteed to be able to stop a diplodocus in full charge;the electric potential (_potential!_ That word again!) great enough tocarbonize anything smaller than a blue whale. No animal on Alphegar IVcould possibly get through it.

  And none had.

  Trouble was, no one had thought of being attacked by something immenselygreater than a blue whale, especially since there was no animal largerthan a small rhino on the whole planet. Who, after all, could haveexpected an attack by a blind, uncaring colossus--a monster that hadalready been dying before it made its attack?

  Because no one had thought of the forest.

  The fact that the atmospheric potential--the voltage and even theamperage difference between the low-hanging clouds and the groundbelow--was immensely greater than that of Earth, that had already beendetermined. But the compound and the defenses surrounding it had alreadybeen compensated for that factor.

  Who could have thought that a single lightning stroke through one of thetremendous, twelve-hundred-foot trees that surrounded the compound couldhave felled it? Who could have predicted that it would topple toward thecompound itself?

  That it would have been burning--that was something that could have beenguaranteed, had the idea of the original toppling been considered.Especially after the gigantic wooden life-thing had smashed across thedouble-ply fence, thereby adding man-made energy to its alreadypowerful bulk and blazing surface.

  But--that it would have fallen across Storage Shed Number One? Was_that_ predictable?

  Fennister shook his head slowly. No. It wasn't. The accident was simplythat--an accident. No one was to blame; no one was responsible.

  Except Fennister. _He_ was responsible. Not for the accident, but forthe personnel of the expedition. He was the Military Officer; he was theMan In Charge of Fending Off Attack.

  And he had failed.

  Because that huge, blazing, stricken tree had toppled majestically downfrom the sky, crashing through its smaller brethren, to come to rest onStorage Shed Number One, thereby totally destroying the majority of thefood supply.

  There were eighty-five men on Alphegar IV, and they would have to waitanother six months before the relief ship came.

  And they didn't have food enough to make it, now that their reserve hadbeen destroyed.

  Fennister growled something under his breath.

  "What?" asked Major Grodski, rather surprised at his superior's tone.

  "I said: 'Water, water, everywhere--', that's what I said."

  Major Grodski looked around him at the lush forest which surrounded thedouble-ply fence of the compound.

  "Yeah," he said. "'Nor any drop to drink.' But I wish one of thoseboards had shrunk--say, maybe, a couple hundred feet."

  "I'm going back to my quarters," Fennister said. "I'll be checking withthe civilian personnel. Let me know the total damage, will you?"

  The major nodded. "I'll let you know, sir. Don't expect good news."

  "I won't," said Colonel Fennister, as he turned.

  * * * * *

  The colonel let his plump bulk sag forward in his chair, and he coveredhis hands with his eyes. "I can imagine all kinds of catastrophes," hesaid, with a kind of hysterical glumness, "but this has them all beat."

  Dr. Pilar stroked his, short, gray, carefully cultivated beard. "I'mafraid I don't understand. We could all have been killed."

  The colonel peeked one out from between the first and second fingers ofhis right hand. "You think starving to death is cleaner than fire?"

  Pilar shook his head slowly. "Of course not. I'm just not certain thatwe'll all die--that's all."

  Colonel Fennister dropped his hands to the surface of his metal desk. "Isee," he said dryly. "Where there's life, there's hope. Right? Allright, I agree with you." He waved his hand around, in anall-encompassing gesture. "Somewhere out there, we may find food. Butdon't you see that this puts us in the Siege Position?"

  Dr. Francis Pilar frowned. His thick salt-and-pepper brows rumpled in alook of puzzlement. "Siege Position? I'm afraid--"

  Fennister gestured with one hand and leaned back in his chair, lookingat the scientist across from him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've let myhumiliation get the better of me." He clipped his upper lip between histeeth until his lower incisors were brushed by his crisp, militarymustache, and held it there for a moment before
he spoke.

  "The Siege Position is one that no military commander of any cerebralmagnitude whatever allows himself to get into. It is as old as Mankind,and a great deal stupider. It is the position of a beleaguered groupwhich lacks one simple essential to keep them alive until help comes.

  "A fighting outfit, suppose, has enough ammunition to stand off two moreattacks; but they know that there will be reinforcements within fourdays. Unfortunately, the enemy can attack _more than twice_ before helpcomes. Help will come too late.

  "Or, it could be that they have enough water to last a week, but helpwon't come for a month.

  "You follow me, I'm sure. The point, in so far as it concerns us, isthat we have food for about a month, but we won't get help before sixmonths have passed. We know help is coming, but we won't be alive to seeit."

  Then his eyes