Alien Harvest

“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.”

72

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.

The suppressor was working. It had been Mac's, but that was quite a while ago and now Mac was a bundle of wet fur on a garbage heap in an alien hive.

Gill knew he had to keep his mind on business. Usually, this was no problem for an android. Artificial men weren't bothered by random thoughts, stray insights, weasel realizations that came to them like thieves in the night. Not usually. But this time was different.

Gill found that his attention was divided. Part of him was observing the terrain he passed over, noting the presence and position of the aliens, watching as he drew nearer to the Lancet. But with another part of his mind he was thinking of Julie, seeing her as she had been just a day ago, vibrant and laughing, filled with life. He had felt something special for her then.

What was it? Was it what the humans called love? How could he find out? No human had been able to explain love to him. Even Stan grew embarrassed and turned away when Gill had asked him to explain the concept and give it a quantifiable value.

Humans were so strange, so filled with odd compunctions that covertly ruled their behavior. And now he had the most understanding of them he would ever have. It all came from stray thoughts, he told himself, and he worked hard to banish Julie's image from his mind as he approached the entry port of the Lancet.

73

Two of Potter's crew, heavily armed, were waiting for him in the entryway.

“I don't know how the hell you got through,” one of them said.

“I've got a pass,” Gill told them. They just stared at him. Gill decided that his first attempt at that key human quality, humor, hadn't been a success. But he reminded himself that he was new at it. Perhaps he would get better as he went along.

The two guards looked through the port visor. They could see the aliens, slowly drifting toward the ship, forming up against the almost invisible walls of the force field. They didn't do anything. Just stood there, their heads facing the ship, and it was as though some great power of attraction held them there. They were surrounding the force field that protected the harvester, too, more and more of them, and the sight of them was singularly uncanny and disquieting.

“We better tell the captain about this,” one of the guards said. To Gill he said, “Come on, you. Raise your arms. We're going to search you.”

Gill did as he was told. “I carry no weapons,” he told them.

“Sure. But we'll just check you anyhow. What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it at the movies,” Gill said. Again, the guards did not laugh. They just stared at him like he was crazy. Gill wondered what he was doing wrong. This humor thing was going to take some studying.

74

“Julie, can you hear me?”

Julie had been lying on the deck of the harvester near one of the heaters. Stan had found a blanket in one of the back bays and wrapped it around her. She looked better than she had since the accident.

“Stan?” she said. “I'm very cold.”

“Let me see if I can find another blanket,” Stan said. “I already have these heaters going full blast.”

He stood up to go, but Julie reached out and grabbed his arm. “No, don't leave me, Stan. We're in a lot of trouble, aren't we?”

“To one way of thinking, yes, we are. But to another, we're in no trouble at all. We're together, and we're going to stay that way. Here, Julie, I have something for you. For us both, actually.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the little case containing the Xeno-Zip ampoules.

There were six of them. He uncapped one and lifted Julie's head so she could drink. When she took down the first ampoule, he matched her with one, then uncorked another.

“We aren't supposed to take more than one, are we?”

“I've got a special dispensation,” Stan said. “Don't worry, it'll do us no harm.”

Julie swallowed the contents of a second ampoule. She shuddered, then laughed. “You were right, Stan. I feel a lot better.”

“Me, too,” Stan said, sitting down on the deck beside her and holding her close to share the warmth. “This is nice, isn't it?”