Aliens Alien Harvest - By Robert Sheckley Page 0,49
it. Beside him, Skysky, fat and balding with a walrus mustache, decided to eat an energy bar of his own and fumbled it out of his pocket. Eka Nu, a flat faced Burmese with skin a shade lighter than burned umber, was mumbling over the wooden beads of his Buddhist rosary. Styson, his long face as mournful as ever, was playing his harmonica, monotonously repeating one phrase over and over. And Larrimer, a city boy from New York's south Bronx, was doing nothing at all except licking his dry lips and brushing his long lank hair out of his eyes.
They had been excited when they volunteered. It was a chance for some action, after the confines of the ship. They'd heard stories about the aliens, of course, but none of them had seen one. They hadn't even been born at the time of the alien occupation of Earth. Aliens now seemed an exotic menace, a weird kind of big bug that would fall easily to their guns. Morrison was fiddling with his carbine. He decided to insert a new feed ramp. He stripped the receiver and replaced the ramp, then snapped the connector into place. The ramp toggled through a diagnostic code and then clicked into place. He shoved a magazine into the carbine, touched the bolt control, and cycled a round into the firing chamber. The magazine's counter showed an even one hundred antipersonnel rounds ready to go.
"Hey, farm boy," Skysky said, "you planning to shoot something?"
"If I get the chance," Morrison said, "I'm going to bag me one of them aliens and bring home his horns."
Eka Nu looked up from his rosary. "Aliens no got horns."
"Well, whatever they got, I want to bring a piece of it home. A piece of skull maybe. Wouldn't that look good mounted over the mantel?"
Styson said, "You better just hope one of them critters doesn't nail your hide up over the mantel."
"What're you talking about?" Morrison asked. "Them creatures ain't civilized. They ain't got mantels."
Just then Stan's voice came over the loudspeaker. "You men! Get ready to embark into a pod. Check your weapons."
"Okay," Morrison said, getting to his feet. "Time we had ourselves a little hunting."
The men were all on their feet, checking their weapons and talking excitedly. They were clumsy, some of them seeing modem weaponry for the first time. Morrison - who was their natural leader due to his size and self confidence, though he was of the same rank as the rest of them - had to show Styson how to release the safeties. He was beginning to won der if the guys would be all right, but he figured as long as they knew which end to point and what to pull, they'd be fine. What creature could stand up against military caseless ammunition?
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The number one lander had three escape pods. These were used for close up maneuvering, in order not to jeopardize the lander itself by piloting it around poorly mapped ground features. This standard model pod was shaped like an enormous truck tire. Its circular form allowed for the miles of complex wiring that took up most of its interior and allowed it to ride the planet's electromagnetic currents with some success.
Norbert fitted himself in, and Mac nestled up to his chest.
"Comfortable?" Stan asked, peering in.
"The question has no relevance for me," Norbert replied. "When your body is electronically operated, one posture is as good as another. But Mac is fine, Dr. Myakovsky."
"Glad to hear it," Stan said. "Good luck, Norbert. I'll be sending down the five crew volunteers in a separate pod. This moment brings us to the whole point of this operation - getting you and Mac and the men to the surface of AK 32 near the alien hive. Have you got all the stuff you'll need? Did you remember to check the charge in the inhibitors?"
"Of course, Dr. Myakovsky. They should give me enough time to do what I have to do."
"Okay," Stan said. "Good bye, Mac. You're a nice little dog. I hope I see you again one of these days."
"Not likely, Doctor," said Norbert.
Suddenly Stan was furious.
"Just get the hell out of here!" he said, slamming the pod's hatch shut. "I don't need your comments. Did you hear that, Julie?"
"Take it easy, Stan," Julie said. "Norbert didn't mean anything. He only states facts. Anyway, what's the big deal?"
Norbert's voice came over the radio. "I am ready for the descent, Dr. 'Myakovsky."