Robert Sheckley - Alien Harvest

Gill looked up, startled. He had been intent on the screen, watching as Norbert followed the group of aliens through the tunnels. Gill wanted to be ready to report to Dr. Myakovsky when the doctor awoke from his nap. But Julie's question seemed worthy of serious thought and he gave it, though not taking his eyes off the screen that showed Norbert's progress.

“I'm afraid,” Gill said at last, “that I do not understand the question. It implies a precondition: that there is something in human behavior that I might get sick of. To what are you referring, Julie?”

“Wow!” Julie laughed. “I didn't expect to get that much out of you. But it isn't an answer.”

“I am asking you to define your question, Miss Lish.”

“You know very well what I mean,” Julie said.

Gill found himself caught up and bewildered by the complexities of human thinking. It seemed to him that Julie was saying one thing and meaning another. The technical semanticists who had programmed his response bank had not given sufficient attention to the problem of ambiguity. Perhaps they couldn't solve it. Gill and Julie looked at each other for a few moments in silence. Then Gill spoke. “You are referring, perhaps, to the fact that human actions are not always logical in terms of advantage? That they sometimes appear to be downright self-defeating?”

“Okay, that's one way of saying it,” Julie said. “What do you think of that?”

Again Gill paused before answering. “I can only believe that illogic is essential to being human, since it is the one thing we synthetics are not capable of.”

“You can't go against logic and programming, is that it?”

“It is, Miss Lish.”

Julie didn't answer at once. Presently she reached out and took Gill's hand. Startled, the synthetic man let it go limp. Julie held it like she had never seen a hand before. She studied it, turning it slowly this way and that.

“What an amazing piece of construction this is.” She marveled. “How perfectly the skin has been rendered and textured. It's hard to believe that anything as cunning as this could belong to someone not human.”

“Yet so it is,” Gill said.

“Is it? Or are you just being modest? A very human trait, I assure you.”

“I don't know,” Gill muttered. “One thing I do know is, Dr. Myakovsky loves you very much.”

“Yes,” Julie said, “I think he does. It's why he's here, isn't it?”

“I believe it is, Miss Lish.”

“But why then am I here?”

“I do not know,” Gill said. He hesitated. “It is a difficult way to get rich.”

“Do you know of any easy ways?” Julie asked. “Do you know any better ways to pass your time on Earth than doing what I'm doing now?”

Gill shook his head. “I know nothing about these things.”

Julie frowned and let his hand drop. “I like you, Gill, though you're very naive about some things. Look, Norbert seems to have reached the queen's chamber.”

“You're right,” Gill said. “I'll go wake up Dr. Myakovsky.”

“I appear to be in an anteroom deep in the middle of the hive,” Norbert reported. “I can see the queen's chamber just beyond. These surfaces and angles resemble nothing in my memory bank, Doctor. They seem to have been constructed according to a completely alien system. But that would stand to reason, wouldn't it?”

“You're doing fine,” Stan said over the radio. “I just woke up and I'm pleased to see your progress. None of the aliens has sensed yet that you're not one of them?”

“No, Doctor. Though their examinations grow more stringent the deeper we go into the hive.”

“I think we have them foxed,” Stan said, sounding very pleased with himself. “This anteroom you're in appears to be an interesting place. Can you fix the focus? I can't make out what's on the walls.”

“They are large containers,” Norbert said. “They appear to be made from a waxy substance similar in molecular makeup to royal jelly. They appear to be filling those containers with jelly.”

“Might they be storing water?” Stan asked.

“I don't believe so,” Norbert said. “The containers seem to be holding liquids of slightly different colors and densities. The aliens grow quite excited when they go near these containers. They have to be urged by what I take to be the guards to move on. I think that these containers hold royal jelly deposited by certain especially potent queens or queen types. These may be more efficacious than the common run of the jelly, and be prized by the queen accordingly.”

“With your equipment,” Stan asked, “can you ascertain which is the purest?”

“There's no difficulty in that, Doctor.”

“Then draw me off a sample. This sounds like the pure royal jelly I need.”

After a moment Norbert said, “It is done.”

“Good,” Stan returned. “We'll meet up soon. Bring the sample with you. What are they doing with Mac?”

“The alien holding him has brought him into the queen's chamber. He is offering him to the queen.”

“That is the queen ahead? The image is not distinct.”

“There is a diffracting vapor in this room, Doctor. It is difficult to make out anything clearly. Take it easy, Mac!”

Stan said, “Why did you speak to the dog?”

“To get him to be quiet, sir. We don't want to mar matters as he is presented to the queen. She is receiving him now. Although I am not expert in alien physiognomy, I'd say she finds pleasure in the gift She's holding him up to her olfactory receptors —“

“You should have killed him first,” Julie interrupted.

“I was not instructed to do so,” Norbert said. “No matter. He is beyond pain now. Doctor, one of the guards is coming over to me. It is to be another inspection.”

“Well, you've passed them before.”

“Yes, sir. But there are three guards interested in me this time. It must be because I came so close to the queen. Or maybe it was when I took the sample. I am stepping up my production of pheromones.”

“Good idea,” said Stan. “Is it helping any?”

“It doesn't seem to be doing much good. They are making odd head movements. I do not know what it means.”

“What the hell has gone wrong?” Stan asked urgently. “What are they doing now?”

“They seem suspicious. They have seized me. What do you want me to do, Doctor?”

“Damn it,” Stan spat. “I should have gotten you out of there before this! Norbert! Break free and get out!”

“Yes, sir,” Norbert said. The big robot whirled, tearing himself free from the aliens' hooked claws. Then, dropping to all fours, he began scuttling down the corridor.

A reverse sensor in the back of Norbert's head clicked on and showed the view: the long winding tunnel curving behind, the three aliens scurrying on all fours after him.

Norbert was running full out. Stan had never seen him go so fast before. A thrill of pride went through him as he witnessed his creation in action. With speed like that, surely …

Stan could tell from the jarring movement of his sensor lens when the alien guard landed on Norbert's back. Stan winced as though the blow had landed on him. How could the guard be that fast? he wondered.

To Norbert he said, “Fight him off! Get out of there!”

“I'm trying, Dr. Myakovsky. But there are three of them —“

Abruptly the screen went blank.

Stan cried, “Norbert! Can you hear me? Come in!”

“Nothing,” Gill said. He touched a dial, shook his head. “He's off the air.”

“He's dead!” Julie cried.

“I didn't want this to happen,” Stan screamed. “Not Norbert! Not Norbert!”

Julie said urgently, “Stan, get a hold of yourself.”

Stan shuddered and let out a deep breath. He seemed calmer. “Can you get Captain Hoban?” he asked.