Robert Sheckley - Alien Harvest

“No, we're going on the good old Dolomite ,” Stan said.

“But, Doctor, you no longer own it! And even if you did, I am no longer allowed to pilot it.”

“Possession is nine tenths of the law,” Stan said. “Once we're aboard and under way, they'll have to argue with us in court. Their lawyers against ours.”

“I don't know,” Hoban said, slumping down and shaking his head.

“Money talks,” Stan pointed out again. “We'll win your case. After this trip, we'll all have it good.”

“Yes, sir. Back into space again … Excuse me for asking, sir, but do you have any money for this venture?”

“Enough for what we need. And a way to get a lot more.”

“Where do you want to go?” Hoban asked.

“Let's get into that later,” Stan said. “You don't mind if it's dangerous, do you?”

Hoban smiled sadly and shrugged. “Anything's better than rotting here, with nothing to hope for.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Stan said. “This is Miss Julie Lish, my partner. You'll be seeing a lot of her on this expedition.”

Hoban shook Julie's extended hand. “But wait,” he said. “I'm sorry, Stan, you had me dreaming for a moment. I'm afraid it's impossible.”

“Why do you say that?” Stan asked.

“For one thing, no crew.”

“Okay. And what else?”

“The Dolomite's in geosynchronous orbit above Earth, ready to go on a mining trip in a few days.”

“We'll have to act quickly. Who's running the Dolomite ?”

“Gill, until the replacement captain comes aboard.”

“Excellent!”

“I don't think so, Stan. You know Gill. He's programmed to follow the rules. Gill always obeys orders.”

“Not to worry,” Stan said. “Are you sure the new captain's not aboard yet?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“Then it's simple. We'll go aboard and take off at once.”

“Yes, sir … But it won't work, sir. You and I are both proscribed from boarding the Dolomite . There are guards. They'll read our retinal prints, turn us back….”

“No,” Stan said. “They'll call Gill to make a judgment. He's in charge now.”

“But what can Gill do? Androids are very simple-minded, Dr. Myakovsky. They obey orders. Their loyalties are built-in, hardwired.”

“Like a dog,” Stan suggested.

“Yes, sir. Very much like.”

“There's still a chance. Since he was animated, Gill has only worked with you.”

“That's right. But it's been a while since we've been together. And anyhow, when they changed his orders, they will have changed his loyalties, too.”

“They will have tried,” Stan said. “Actually, it isn't quite so simple. Loyalty in an android is formed by long association with a particular human. I think Gill will lean in your favor when it comes to a showdown between following your orders or those of the new owners.”

Hoban considered it and shook his head doubtfully. “Android conditioning is not supposed to work that way, sir. And if you're wrong … It'll be instant prison for all three of us.”

“Let's worry about that when the time comes,” Stan said. “Of course it's not dead simple. What is? The thing is, it's a chance for us all. What do you say, Hoban? Are you with us or not?”

Hoban looked up and down, uncertain, frowning. Then he looked at Julie. “Do you know what kind of a chance you're taking here, miss?”

“It's better than sitting around listening to yourself breathe,” Julie said.

“This venture of yours, Doctor — I suspect it's not entirely legal.”

“That's correct,” Stan said. “It's illegal and it's dangerous. But it's a chance to rehabilitate yourself. What do you say?”

Hoban's mouth quirked. His face twisted in an agony of indecision. Then he suddenly drove his fist down on the table, causing the coffee mugs to jump. “I'll do it, Dr. Myakovsky. Anything's better than this!”

The three shook hands. Stan said, “Let's get moving. There's no time to waste.”

“There's just one problem,” Hoban said. “What's that?” Stan asked. “We don't have a crew.”

Stan's shoulders slumped and he sat down again. Julie asked, “How do you usually get a crew?”

“There's no time to get them on the open market,” Hoban said, “and we'd have a hard time getting people for a dangerous mission. In circumstances like this, we requisition them from the government.”

“What does the government have to do with it?” Julie wanted to know.

“They allow convicts to put in for hazardous duty in space, in return for reduced time on their sentences.”

Stan said, “But this time it wouldn't work. The government won't release any of the cons to me now that I've been barred from my own ship.”

“Of course they will,” Julie said. “Government is slow, Stan, and one part of it never knows what some other part of itself is doing. Just go in and ask the way you usually do. You're a legitimate owner, you've hired crews before. They have to serve you.”

“But what if they do know my ship has been seized?”

“First of all, so what? People have property seized every day. It doesn't put them out of business. They have a suit against you, but you're still innocent until proven guilty. And besides, the people who actually give you prisoners, the guards and clerks, what do you think they know about that? They don't know and don't care. They do what they have to do.”

“I don't know,” Stan said. “I'll be too nervous.”

“It will work.”

“Maybe. But I don't feel confident about this.”

“Stan, if you want to succeed in what you and I are getting into, you're going to have to learn how to fake self-confidence. Have you ever acted in a play?”

“Sure, in college. I was pretty good.”

“Well, that's what you're going to do now. Act the part of Dr. Myakovsky, brilliant young scientist and upcoming entrepreneur.”

“Acting a part,” Stan mused. “What a novel idea! But I believe I could do that.”

Julie nodded. “I knew right away you had it in you to play the Big Con. Stan, if you weren't already a scientist, I think you could make a great thief.”

It was the nicest compliment Stan had ever been paid.

“And as for you, Captain Hoban …” Julie continued.

“Yes, miss?” Hoban said.

“You're going to have to get that hangdog look off of your face. You're a spaceship captain again, not a washed-up drunk who did something wrong once in his life and is making himself pay for it the rest of his life.”

“I'll try to remember that,” Hoban said.

Morning came early to the federal penitentiary at Goose Lake, New York. Almost two thirds of the great gray concrete structure was underground, buried under one of the Catskills. What showed above was a windowless dome, gray as a ghost in sunlight, unrelievedly ugly despite the rows of quick-growing trees that had been planted around its perimeter in an attempt to dress it up. A ten-foot-high electrified fence surrounded the facility, but it was pretty much window dressing. No convict had gotten as far as the fence yet. The prison had its ways of keeping the prisoners docile.

Within the windowless pile, artificial light shone night and day. It was part of standard policy to keep the prisoners disoriented, and therefore less aggressive.

Inside, there were the usual sections of prison cells, with catwalks outside them where the guards walked. There were workshops, food and laundry facilities, and a separate room where the inmates did state-approved work and earned a dollar or so a day for it.

It was free time now. All the men not doing solitary were walking around the grounds, exercising, talking.

A loud voice came from the prison loudspeaker. “All men whose names are on the Alpha Volunteer list, report to the auditorium on the second level.”