Stan nodded. “If memory serves, it is produced by the aliens.”
“That is correct,” Dr. Johnston said. “I must tell you it's no cure. But it should relieve the symptoms. It could be just what you're looking for.”
“Does it have much in the way of side effects?”
The doctor smiled grimly. “It has indeed. That's why it hasn't received government approval yet, though many people use it. Indeed, it has become the most-sought-after consciousness-altering substance in existence. It gives some an intense feeling of well-being and competence. Others experience levels of their own being not normally perceived. Still others have an orgasm that seems to go on forever.”
“At least I'm going to die happy,” Stan said.
But of course there were also the bad side effects. Some people had been known to go berserk on the drug, or to undergo personality changes so great that their own families didn't recognize them. Could that be happening in his case?
And then he forgot his concern as the images swept him up again. There was so much to look at! So many memories, all nicely staged and lighted, waiting for him, the sole audience, to put them into motion. It was like owning all of the theaters in the world, and in each of them a different movie was playing, and each movie starred himself, Stan Myakovsky, in all the scenes of his life. He glided past them, a ghostly presence in his own memories.
25
Red Badger was one of the first crewmen revived from hypersleep. He stretched and yawned, then carefully unplugged the leads that connected him to the central sleep inducer. He looked around. The rest of the crew was starting to revive. Cheerful music was playing over the PA system. There were sounds of coughing and spitting as men cleared their throats for the first time in almost a month.
Coffee was available at a little table. Crew were always given coffee mixed with a new amphetamine upon first awakening. It was needed to help them throw off the effects of hypersleep.
Badger sipped at a black sweetened cup of coffee and felt his head clear.
“You okay, Red?” It was Walter Glint, his sidekick.
“Yeah, I'm fine.”
“Min?”
The Laotian hill woman grunted her assent.
“Connie?”
“I'm great, Badger,” Connie Mindanao said. “You figure this might be a bonus run?”
“For extra-hazardous duty? They haven't said yet.”
“I hope so.”
“Why?”
“I've got a ranch house in Bangio I'm trying to pay off.”
“There just might be easier ways,” Badger said. He looked around. “That's funny.”
“What's that, Red?”
“They usually post the ship's destination in the crew quarters. But look for yourself — the board's empty.”
“Yeah, that is funny,” Glint said. “But there's a notice there.”
Badger said, “I can see it, dummy. General assembly in twenty minutes. The captain and the owner's gonna talk to us.”
Glint said, “You've been on these ships longer than I have. That's not the way they usually do it, is it, Red?”
“Nope.” Badger scratched his jaw. “I'll bet they're up to something. This might be interesting, Glint.”
The loudspeaker said, “All crew! Assemble at once in the main theater.”
Stan and Julie walked out onto the raised stage. The crewmen looked up attentively when he rapped a pointer on the lectern to get their attention.
“Our destination is not far away now,” Stan said. “It is a small O-type star named AR-32 in the standard catalog. Around it revolves a single planet, with several good-sized moons to keep it company. These moons create violent and unpredictable weather currents on the planet, which has been named Vista. Captain Hoban, do you know anything about this planet?”
Hoban had been sitting to one side of the stage. He cleared his throat now and said, “I have heard of the place, sir. They used to call it the Festerhole, back when there were still a lot of pirates and privateers operating in the space lanes. There was once a jelly-gathering operation there involving one of the bionationals. That was some years ago. To the best of my knowledge it has been deserted since.”
Stan thought, “
The crew stirred and looked at each other. This talk of the Festerhole was making them uneasy. What was this assignment, anyhow? What was it the powers wanted them to do this time? No one had spoken about a bug- hunting expedition. That called for extra pay!
There was a rising murmur of protest from the crew. The greatest menace of recent times were the aliens, those big black monsters who had been pushed off Earth with difficulty, and elsewhere continued to show their murderous abilities in the face of everything Earth had been able to throw against them.
Badger rose to his feet and said, “Sir, this wouldn't by any chance be a bug-hunting expedition, would it?”
“Not exactly,” Stan said.
“Then what exactly is it… sir?”
Stan ignored the red-haired crewman's insolent tone. “This is basically a salvage operation,” he said. “We'll be taking a load of royal jelly off a wrecked freighter.”
“Yes, sir,” Badger said. “And aren't the bugs going to have something to say about that?”
“Our information is that there are no bugs on the wreck. We'll go in fast, take what we need, and be out of there again. There's also the possibility we'll find an abandoned hive on the planet. The jelly in that could be worth millions.”
Walter Glint said, “Nothing was said about bugs when we volunteered, sir.”
“Of course not,” Stan said. “My information is secret. If I told you back on Earth, half the freelance salvagers from Earth and the colonies would be there now.”
“Bugs can be dangerous,” Glint said.
“Not when you take precautions,” Stan quickly put in. “You were warned that this was hazardous duty. You're not getting time off your sentences for sitting around in some holiday spot. And remember, there's bonus pay in this for all of you. It could come to quite a lot, if the salvage is as rich as I think it is.”
“How much?” Badger asked.
“That's impossible to calculate before we have it,” Stan said. “Don't worry, there is a standard formula for crew shares. I intend to double it.”
The men cheered. Even Badger smiled and sat down. This was interesting, he thought. He wondered what would come next.
26
Stan rapped for attention. But before he could get started again, a door opened and a man came in. He moved rapidly and with a strange grace, a cross between a glide and a lope. His face was expressionless. Although all of his individual features were human, the total result was not human at all. The crew knew at once, even before the introduction, that this man was a synthetic. Captain Hoban's introduction clinched the matter.
