Robert Sheckley - Alien Harvest

Hoban nodded, but he didn't like agreeing with Badger. It seemed more natural that he should be on the opposite side of anything Badger felt. But he decided that perhaps he was being unfair. All that anyone had against Badger were rumors, and the man's unfortunate personality. No charge against him had ever stuck. And his decision to bring the wreck immediately to Hoban's attention had been quite correct.

Badger went back to the crew quarters. His sidekick Glint was drinking a cup of coffee at one of the wardroom tables. He looked up quizzically when Badger came in.

“Come on,” Badger told him. “We got a job to do.”

Glint swallowed the rest of his coffee and stood up. “What sort of a job?”

“There's a wreck out there. It's going to take spacesuits.”

“Yeah? What's up, Red?”

“I'll tell you about it as we go,” Badger said.

Stan had brought down the lander within viewing distance of the humped-up mound that was the alien hive, which he was able to inspect closely through the viewscreen magnifier. Gill and Julie stood behind him as he manipulated the views.

The hive was not only the largest non-natural feature on this planet; it was also larger than any natural feature Stan had yet seen there. Even the mountains were no more than a few hundred meters in height. The hive, standing over a thousand meters above the windswept plain, was huge, imposing, with a dark majesty. The winds scoured it, grinding it down, and there was constant activity from the aliens, who stood out as little black dots at this distance, building the hive up again like ants repairing an anthill.

Aliens, so soon! But, he reminded himself, he had been expecting them … hadn't he?

“I hope you're taking note, Ari,” Stan said, holding the cybernetic ant on his fingertip so it could get a good view.

“I don't know if Ari is,” Julie said, “but I sure am. I didn't know the hive would be so big. And I didn't know we'd run into aliens so soon.”

“We've got the suppressors,” Stan reminded her.

“Sure,” Julie said. “But are they reliable? It's pretty new technology.” She sighed and looked out across the plain again. “That's one big hive.”

“This one could probably be classified a superhive,” said Gill. “It's far bigger than any other recorded in the literature on the aliens.”

“Why do you suppose?” Stan asked.

“This is only a conjecture, of course, but it seems to me the odds against survival on this planet are so great that the aliens had to concentrate their forces, keep one big hive going father than a lot of smaller ones.”

“Saves us from having to make a lot of choices about which hive we plunder,” Julie said. “Let's get to it, shall we?”

Gill shook his head. “I advise you to wait until the storm activity on the surface has abated somewhat.”

Outside, through the Plexiglas, they could see the raging gale that was the usual weather on this planet. The wind had whipped itself into new heights of frenzy. Sand and small stones were blown across the plain like exploding shrapnel. Larger rocks, swept from the low crags in the distance, tumbled across the plain like steamrollers gone berserk. Lightning forked and crashed in vivid streamers of electric blue.

Beneath the lander, the ground shook and heaved in a nausea-inducing motion. Stan thought: “ Volcanic activity, just what we need .” But he wasn't really worried. He had taken an ampoule of Xeno-Zip before leaving the Dolomite . He felt strong and confident, and the pain was gone.

There was a burst of high-pitched static from the speaker, and then Captain Hoban's voice came on.

“Dr. Myakovsky? Are you reading me?”

“Loud and clear, Captain,” said Stan. “What do you have to report?”

“We spotted some debris in orbit near us,” Hoban said. “Upon further inspection, I have found the wreck of a space freighter, just as you predicted. It's broken into several pieces, but there's a main section that could even contain human life. I doubt that'll be the case, however. This wreck looks like it's been there a long time.”

“Do you have any identification on it yet?” Stan asked.

“I've sent two men over to check it out,” Hoban said. “With a little luck well pick up a flight recorder and find out what happened.”

“Contact me as soon as you have it,” Stan said. That could be very important information.”

“I'm well aware of that, sir. I'll let you know first thing. Sir, ship's telemetry and remote survey equipment tells me you've put down the lander on potentially unstable ground.”

“Everything around here is unstable,” Stan said. “Except for the rock outcropping the hive stands on. You wouldn't want me to put down right beside the hive, would you, Captain?”

“Of course not, sir. I was just pointing out…”

“I know, I know,” Stan snapped. He took a deep breath and tried to get control of himself. He was getting weird flashes now from the drug. It seemed to be taking him on an elevator ride; one second his mood was up, the next minute down. And too soon, the pain was coming back. Take it easy , he told himself.

Still, his breath sobbed in his throat as he said, “I'm going to sign off now, Captain. We have to wait until the storm calms down before we can carry out the next step. I will use that time to get a little rest.”

“Yes, sir. Over and out.”

Captain Hoban's face faded from the screen. Stan closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Julie and Gill were both standing nearby, watching him. Stan felt a sudden shame at his own weakness, and at the pain that was mounting in intensity throughout his throat and chest. At a moment like this the only thing he could think of was the next ampoule of Xeno-Zip, nested in its padded box with the few others he had brought along.

He shook his head irritably. It was too early for another ampoule. He hadn't planned to take one just yet, he didn't know what it would do to him, but the pains were getting very bad, perhaps even affecting his judgment.

“I'll see you both later,” Stan said. Even before they turned to leave the control room, Stan's fingers were at the table drawer where he kept the box of royal jelly ampoules.

Julie and Gill returned to the aftercabin. They were alone except for Norbert, who stood silently against the curving wall like a futuristic basilisk, with Mac the dog asleep in his arms.

“Well, Gill,” Julie said, “what do you think of all this?”

Gill looked up from his inspection of the armament they had brought. His expression was mild, quizzical. “To what, specifically, do you refer?”

“Stan and his mad trip for royal jelly. This planet. Me.”

Gill took his time before answering. “I do not ask myself that sort of question, Miss Lish. And if I did…”

“Yes?”

“If I did, my conclusions would have no value. I am not like you humans. I am a synthetic.”

“How do you differ from real people?”

Gill looked disturbed, but managed to smile. “No soul, for one thing. Or so they say.”

“And for another?”

“No feelings.”

“None at all, Gill? Yet you look like a man.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Don't you even find me attractive?” Julie asked.

Again there was a long pause. Then Gill said, “There is an old saying of your people. 'Let sleeping dogs lie.' I would advise that here.”

“Why is that?”

“Because synthetic people with feelings are something the human race wants no part of.”

“That must be some other race,” Julie said. “Maybe I'm not part of it. I wouldn't mind it at all if you had feelings. You could tell me about yours and I'd tell you about mine.”