Ben rises, slipping his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He listens to Adam’s rapid-fire explanation, his hazel eyes flicking to you with concern. “Commander,” he says, gesturing you toward the examination table, “protocol exists for a reason. These plants may resemble carrots but they grew in Martian soil. They are just as alien as the planet itself, and we don't know yet if they are food or poison. Now, let’s get you scanned and cleared so we all sleep better tonight.”
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