Robert Sheckley - Alien Harvest

The guide broke off his spiel when he noticed something unusual happening.

“Excuse me, you people there!”

He was talking to three people, two men and a woman, who had moved in the opposite direction from the crowd and now were about to open a door marked no admittance except to authorized personnel in five different languages.

“Did you mean us?” one of the men said. He was short and plump and wore glasses. The woman beside him was a handsome creature, slim and with magnificent chestnut-red hair. She was beautiful even with the livid scar that ran down one cheek. The other man, somewhat older than the first two, looked dazed.

“Yes, you,” the guide said. “Can't you read the sign on the door?”

“Of course we can,” Stan replied. “It doesn't pertain to us.”

“You're not trying to tell me you're ship's crew?”

“Certainly not,” Stan said. “I'm the new owner.”

“Impossible! I would have been told.”

“I'm telling you right now. We're going aboard.” Stan pushed at the door. The guide moved to stop him, then stopped abruptly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The young woman had seized him, and she had a grip of steel.

“Madame, unhand me!” the guide said, trying to make a joke out of it, because people from the tour were staring. He tried to shake free, but Julie's fingers didn't budge.

“I'll be happy to let you go,” she said. “Just don't interfere with the new owner.”

“I have no proof that he's the new owner!” the guide said.

Julie shrugged. “What difference does it make to you, anyhow, who runs the ship? You've got your concession. You're selling your tickets and your hot dogs. You're doing all right.”

The guide considered. He didn't want any trouble, life was hard enough, why stir up trouble with people who were probably nutcases? The woman with the strong hands was right, what difference did it make to him?

“Do whatever you want,” he said, stepping back as Julie released his shoulder.

Stan pushed open the door that led into the Dolomite proper. As it opened, an alarm went off deep inside the ship.

The lights in the corridor behind the door began to flash.. There was a sound of heavy running feet, and then two men in brown security-guard uniforms came hurrying up with carbines at port arms.

“What's going on?” one of the guards asked. “Halt, you people! No one is allowed here.”

“We're authorized personnel,” Stan said. “I'm the new owner and these are my associates. Kindly escort us to your commanding officer.”

“Back off at once or I'll fire,” the guard said. “This weapon is set for immediate paralysis. The company is not responsible for any broken limbs or other injuries suffered while resisting authorized orders.”

Julie said, “I warn you not to fire that thing.” Her body tensed. She seemed ready to throw herself at the guards.

There was a moment of impasse. The guards weren't sure what to do. The situation wasn't quite serious enough to warrant firing. Not yet. On the other hand, what were they supposed to do? They knew they could get into a lot of trouble if they didn't handle this right. A tall man in officer's uniform came from a doorway inside the ship. “What is going on here?” he asked.

The senior guard said, “These people are trying to break in, Mr. Gill.”

Gill had a long, dark, mournful face. His features were small. His typical expression, in common with those of many androids, was impassive and a little melancholy. He stared at the new arrivals unbelievingly.

At last he said, “Captain Hoban? Dr. Myakovsky?”

“And I am Julie Lish,” Julie said, holding out her hand.

Gill hesitated, then shook Julie's hand.

One of the guards asked, “Do you know these people, sir?”

“Yes,” Gill said. “Stand back and let me handle this.”

The guards saluted and moved back against a wall.

“What is going on, Captain?” Gill asked.

Hoban looked unsure of himself, but his voice was firm enough as he answered, “Mr. Gill, I have decided to take command of the Dolomite again.”

“But, sir,” Gill protested, “a duly appointed court stripped you of this command and gave it to me to hold until the new captain arrives.”

“They had no right to relieve me of command,” Hoban said.

“Are you sure of that, sir?”

“Of course I'm sure, and I am taking over the ship again pending a formal hearing.”

“Perhaps you have that right, sir. I wouldn't know. But meantime there is a legal decision against you, and to the best of my knowledge that has not been rescinded.”

Hoban looked confused. Stan put in, “We are going to appeal that ruling. A higher court can be counted on to reverse the decision.”

“I sincerely hope so, sir. But in the meantime —“

“In the meantime,” Hoban interrupted, showing a firmness that Stan had not been sure he possessed, “things return to where they were before. I will retain command of this ship until the higher court rules.”

“Unfortunately, sir, I am bound by the lower court's decree.”

“Your first loyalty,” Hoban said, “is to me.”

Gill looked doubtful. “That is not how my orders read, sir.”

“Hang your orders!” Hoban cried. “I am giving you a direct command.”

Gill looked puzzled, worried. “My orders are to fire on you or anyone else who tries to board this ship.”

“I don't believe you'll do that, Gill.” Hoban started to walk toward the entry leading to the interior of the ship.

“Guards!” Gill called sharply. “Switch to killing mode.”

There was a double click as the guards switched their pulse rifles to killing mode.

Hoban smiled with a confidence he didn't feel and walked toward the entry.

Gill cried, “Stop!”

Stan and Julie fell into step beside Hoban, who continued to advance.

Gill stared at them. There was something like despair on his face. He said, “I must do what I must.”

“And what is that, Gill?” Stan asked him.

Gill said, “Guards!”

The guards snapped to attention.

“Meet your new commander.”

The guards saluted Hoban, who returned the salute.

“Now turn off your weapons”— another double click —“and attend to the incoming crew. They should be arriving any minute. Then you are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” Both guards saluted, turned on their heels, and marched off.

“Welcome aboard, Commander,” Gill said.

“Thank you, Gill,” Hoban said. “I knew I could count on your loyalty.”

“It's my conditioning that turned things your way, sir,” Gill said. “I could not fire on you, nor ask the guards to do so. After our many tours of duty together, you and I have developed too many bonds. But I still think what you are doing is illegal.”

“I know you feel that way,” Hoban said. “You may leave when the guards return to Earth, and no hard feelings.” He held out his hand.

Gill looked at it for a moment, then shook it. “If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to come along.”

“But why, if you think this is illegal?”

“I don't care if it's illegal or not,” Gill said. “I was just stating a fact. Since I couldn't fire on you, my conditioning in favor of government authority is canceled. I'm your man again, Captain, if you'll have me.”

“It's likely to be dangerous,” Hoban said.

“That is a matter of indifference to me.”

“Then I'll be pleased to have you, Mr. Gill.” Captain Hoban smiled.

“If you two are finished waltzing,” Julie said sarcastically, “do you think we could get on with it?”

They accompanied Gill into the ship and to the control room.

Julie said to Gill, “How did you know what decision to make?”