Aliens Alien Harvest - By Robert Sheckley Page 0,26

walked up to the men. He paced up and down the line, peering into their faces. He came to one, hesitated, stopped, and stared.

Red Badger stared back.

Hoban said, "Do I know you? Have we ever met?"

"I don't think so, sir," Red Badger said. "But of course I've got a lousy memory."

Hoban kept on staring at him. Badger said, "I'm a good spaceman, sir. I just want a chance to rehabilitate myself."

Hoban pursed his lips, frowned, then turned away.

"Anything wrong, Mr. Hoban?" Stan asked.

"No, everything is fine," Hoban said.

"Do the men look all right to you?"

"Yes, they look fine."

Stan could see that something was bothering Hoban, but now was obviously not the time to ask him about it. Maybe, he thought, the captain was just nervous.

Stan turned to the guard. "I'll accept this lot. I'm posting money to send them out to their ship."

"Okay with me," the guard said. "What ship is that?" "The Dolomite,'' Stan said, and waited.

The guard bent over the computer. "How do you spell it?" she asked, and Stan knew everything was going to be all right.
Chapter 17-18

17

They were transporting the prisoners to Facility 12, where they would take the shuttle to the Dolomite, their new ship.

Hoban was thinking, "Damn it, I know I've seen that man before". He knew who I was, I'm sure of it. So why did I pick him? Because I could tell from his look, if I didn't take him, he was going to tell everyone who I was. It's not just my imagination, I knew what that bastard was going to do. I should never have gotten myself into this in the first place...

Unexpectedly, Hoban found himself regretting his decision to go in with Stan. Some people might have thought it was crazy, but people just didn't understand.

He was grateful for this chance to redeem himself, get back on top, prove himself a winner. But another side of his character, knew himself for a loser and just wanted a soft place to lie down. Funny to think of Jersey City as a soft place, but it was. Somehow he always got fed, always had a roof over his head. And best of all, nobody expected anything of him. He could relax, take a drink or two, take a lot of drinks... He knew that wasn't how he ought to feel.

It was like there were a couple of Hobans, and at least one of them was working actively to undermine him. He tried to remind himself that good things lay ahead: he'd soon be piloting his own ship again. You couldn't do better than that. But somehow, it didn't have quite the savor it ought to. And Captain Thomas Hoban became aware that he faced a greater danger than whatever Stan was getting them into. You can guard against murder, but how do you guard against your own thoughts of suicide?

18

There was one way to get aboard a spaceship without having to produce a pass or wait for a computer check. You could go aboard as part of a tour party. It was Julie's idea. They waited a few hours to give the authorities enough time to deliver the prisoners to the Dolomite. Then they came to the Staten Island launch site.

All ships picked up extra income by letting sight seeing parties aboard while they were in port, lifting them up to the ship's orbit in a chemical launching craft. Touring the spaceships was a popular entertainment, as in a bygone year people had gone into New York Harbor to visit battleships when the fleet was in. Spaceships were still novel enough, that people paid just to walk aboard one.

With the passengers aboard, the little craft lifted lightly and soon was high above Jersey City. Julie looked through a viewport and saw the earth below looking like a swirly blue white basketball. Passengers ate hot dogs and talked with each other until the lander arrived at the Dolomite's geosynchronous orbit and locked onto one of the ship's entry ports.

Hoban, with Stan and Julie, came aboard the Dolomite with a group of eight other people, just a few of the hundreds who came up here every day from the Staten Island Spaceport. Accompanying them was a guide. He was giving his standard spiel about thruster jets and diosynchronous interruptor type impellers and standard warp capacities.

"Right this way, folks," the tour guide was saying. He was a large man with pale blond hair, and wore a white vest with lavender polka dots under a