Aliens Alien Harvest - By Robert Sheckley Page 0,3

the flames of a dying fire. He picked up a poker now and stirred the fire up, then indicated a pair of matching armchairs just a comfortable distance from the flames. She took one and he seated himself in the other, then quickly got up again.

"May I get you something to drink?"

She smiled at him, amused by his bumbling eager ness. "You don't even know what I've come for."

"It doesn't really matter... I mean, whatever it is, you are a guest in my house. Perhaps I could bring you a fruit drink? I'm afraid I have no alcohol to mix with it. Alcohol has an adverse effect on my can my condition."

"A glass of fruit juice would be nice," Julie said. "I am well aware that you do not drink, Dr. Myakovsky."

Stan had already begun pouring from a pitcher on a sideboard near the two armchairs. He looked up.

"Well aware? Why?"

"I've made it a point to find out about you," Julie said. "I am always careful to research my future partners."

Stan stared at her, his lips slightly parted, trying to make sense out of all this. Was she laughing at him? Girls were such unfathomable creatures! Although he was fascinated by them, Stan had always kept his distance, conscious that he was not the athletic, glib, casual sort of man that women liked. And here was this beautiful and exotic creature already talking about becoming partners with him?

"Please explain," Stan said, with what he hoped was dignity. "You say you've studied me?"

"Probably better than you've studied yourself,"

Julie stated. "For example, I know about your first date. You were fifteen."

"Do you know what was special about it?" Stan asked.

"I do indeed," Julie replied. "You never showed up for it. You got cold feet at the last moment. And that, Doctor, could be said to characterize all your dealings with the opposite sex."

Stan remembered the incident. He wondered if he had revealed it in some memoir he might have published at the invitation of a computer magazine. How else could she have found out? And what did she want to know that sort of thing for, anyhow?

"I don't get this." Stan looked at her. "What have you come here for? What do you want?"

"Stan," Julie said, "I'll make it short and sweet. I'm a thief. A good one. No, I'm a lot better than just good. I'm one of the best who ever lived. Unfortunately I can't bring you press clippings. Really good thieves don't get written up. You'll just have to take my word for it."

"All right, let's say I accept it," Stan said. "So?"

"I've made a lot of money in some of my enterprises,"

Julie went on, "but not as much as I'd have liked. Stan, I want to be rich."

Stan laughed without humor. "I suppose a lot of people want that."

"Certainly, but they don't have my qualifications. Or my desire."

Stan acknowledged this. "I take it you have some ideas on how to realize that goal?"

She nodded. "I have thought of a way you and I could make a fortune."

"A fortune," Stan mused. "How much is that in dollars?"

"Don't laugh at me," Julie said. "I don't know exactly how much it would be. But it would come to millions of dollars, perhaps even billions, and we'd neither of us lack for anything ever again."

"Nothing?" Stan asked, looking at her and thinking how pretty she was.

"We'd have it all," she told him. "That's worth something, isn't it?"

She slipped off the severe trench coat. Beneath it she wore a nylon, military style jumpsuit. The tight fitting clothes set off her well shaped bosom and fine shoulders to advantage. Stan thought she looked great. He wondered if Julie was one of the things he'd also have if he made a deal with her. He liked the idea but kept that thought to himself as well. Although he was extremely susceptible to beauty, he had cultivated a brusque manner around women so they would never think he was coming on to them and then reject him. He had had a lot of rejection in his life, and he wasn't going to have any more if he could avoid it.

"Tell me your idea," he said.

Julie reached into a small purse she carried, took out a package, and handed it to him.

Stan looked at her questioningly.

"Do you know what this is? Open it and find out."

The package was wrapped in thick manila paper and was held together with tape. He tried to pull the paper off, but