Robert Sheckley - Alien Harvest

Seeing this, Blake fought hard to keep his composure. It was unnerving, seeing friend after friend pulled apart, torn to bits, or dragged away unconscious to be glued to the wall of the hive with something small and deadly growing inside him, after the facehugger had done its work.

Blake turned back. It was all happening too fast. When he looked around, he saw the last of his men collapse, scream, and get dragged off. Blake saw his chance and sprinted to the harvester. He got there before the aliens, but just barely. He pounded at the door. “Let me in! Please, please, let me in!”

Stan's mild-mannered face peered back at him through the viewport. His lips moved. Blake couldn't hear the words, but Stan was saying, “Sorry, I can't open the door. I don't have the strength to close it again.”

Blake pounded again, and then the aliens were on him. A claw came around his shoulder and grabbed his face at the forehead. It pulled, tearing the skin right off. Blake felt his nose pull away, felt his lips leave his mouth, felt all this, and then another claw had seized him by the neck, it was pulling out the tendons of his neck! And then Blake felt no more.

Potter was shouting, his voice grating on the speaker. “Damn you! What have you done to my men?”

“Not a thing, Captain,” Myakovsky said. “They brought it on themselves. Nothing I could do for them. Can you get us out of here, Captain?”

“It seems scarcely worth my time,” Potter grumbled. “I ought to nuke all of you.”

“But then you'd lose the contents of the harvester,” Stan said.

“True enough. But I could always come back for it, after things have cooled down.”

“I have a better plan,” Stan said. “Something that will be of use to us all.”

“Hurry up and tell me what it is,” Potter said. “I don't like leaving my ship down here.”

“It's too complicated to explain over radio,” Stan said. “But I think you will like it. Listen, I have an android here who has been damaged in recent fighting. I could send him over to you. He'd explain the whole thing.”

“I don't know if I should even bother.” Potter was obviously thinking aloud.

“I think you'll be interested in my scheme,” Stan continued. “And after all, it won't take very long.”

“All right,” Potter said. “Send him over. This better be good.”

“It'll be very good,” Stan affirmed.

“How are you going to get him through the aliens? If my own men couldn't make it, how do you expect your android to get here?”

“Modern technology is a wonderful thing,” Stan said evasively. “He'll be right over, Captain. Signing off.”

“Julie,” Gill said. “Can you hear me?”

Julie's eyelids fluttered. Pain contorted her face. She gave a long shudder and then looked around. “Oh my God, is this where I am? I was having such a nice dream, Gill. There's this lake I know of. I went there just once when I was a little girl. I remember fields of spring flowers, a little lake. There was a rowboat. I was drifting in the rowboat, and there were willows hanging down over the boat. Oh, Gill, it was so pretty!”

“I'm sure it was,” Gill said.

“Have you ever had a dream like that?” Julie asked.

“No, I have not,” Gill replied. “I do not dream.”

“Well, you can have half of mine,” Julie said sleepily. “It wasn't really a little lake, I don't need it all….”

“Where's Stan?”

“He's right over there,” Gill said. “He's trying to save you.”

Julie grimaced. “I'm afraid he's cut it a little too fine this time. Poor Stan. He has such great ideas. But I'm glad I came, anyhow. He's not long for this world, you know.”

“I know,” Gill said.

“It's too bad. He's such a brilliant man. But they've done nothing but crowd him. He hasn't had a chance. Except this one. And I think this wasn't much of a chance.”

“I suppose not,” Gill said. She looked at him. “Your arm! What happened?”

“Ran into a little trouble,” Gill said.

“You're using understatement, just like a human.”

“I suppose it rubs off,” Gill said. “A lot of things do. I feel…”

“Yes?”

“I feel like I understand a lot more about humans now,” Gill said. “It's … interesting, isn't it?”

“I suppose it is,” Julie said. “Are you all right, Gill? You've got a very strange expression on your face.”

“I'm fine,” Gill muttered. “It's just that … well, even an android can run out of time.”

Suddenly Stan's voice came from across the cabin. “Gill? What are you doing?”

“Just looking after Julie, sir.”

“That's good. But she needs to rest now. Come over here. I have some instructions for you.”

“Yes, Dr. Myakovsky.” He turned to Julie. “Julie …”

“What is it, Gill?”

“Try not to forget me.” Gill stood up and crossed the room.

Stan Myakovsky was huddled up in the control chair. He appeared to be experiencing no pain for the moment. But he had changed. Gill noticed that the doctor seemed to have shrunk inside his own skin, to be falling in on himself.

“Now pay attention,” Stan said. “Forget about Julie for a moment. I have work for you to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are going over to the Lancet to parlay with Captain Potter.”

“To what end, sir?”

“Ah, yes,” Stan said. “Negotiations usually have a point, don't they? Ours will be different. There's no point at all.”

“But what do you want me to accomplish, sir?”

“Oh, that I can easily tell you,” Stan said. “I want Potter to take his ship away from here. I will retain the harvester. I will find some way to make rendezvous with Captain Hoban, and we will go back home with our ill-gotten gains. How does that sound to you?”

“Wonderful, sir. But I'm afraid —“

“Yes, I am, too,” Stan said. “The captain is not going to like it at all. That's why I have something else in mind. Come over here to the workbench, Gill. I have a modification I must make in you.”

Gill hesitated. “A modification, sir?”

“You heard me. What is the matter with you?”

“I wouldn't want to change my thinking on certain issues.”

Stan looked at Gill then glanced over at Julie, who was resting with eyes closed. “I think I understand. You've undergone quite a little course in humanization, have you not?”

“I don't know what to call it, but I've never experienced anything like it.”

“I won't change any of those qualities you call emotional, Gill. They are rare and special, I agree with you on that, and sometimes they are a long time coming to men — and to androids, never. Or just about never. No, it's your command structure I need to modify. And something I need to wire into you. It will make it easier for you to do what you will have to do, unless things go a lot better than I imagine they will.”

“I wish you'd explain a little more,” Gill said, letting Stan take him by his remaining hand and lead him over to the workbench.

Stan checked out his instruments. “Better not to explain too much,” he said, fitting magnifying lenses over his glasses. “I'll know what to do when the time comes. And so will you.”

There were heavy ground mists when Gill left the harvester and started his trek to the Lancet . The ship loomed eerily in the mounting mists. Gill walked between the force fields. There were aliens out there, and he walked past them. The aliens were searching, but they didn't seem to know what they were looking for.

Gill knew that he had a certain amount of natural immunity, since androids did not smell like men. But to be on the safe side he had taken the last suppressor. Gill touched it on his wrist for luck. He wasn't superstitious, but he knew that men were, and of late he had been seeking to emulate them in every way.