The Human Edge by Gordon R. Dickson Read Free Book Online

under arrest," it said.
    "Think again," said Hank.
    "What do you mean?"
    "I mean I refuse to be arrested. Have a drink?"
    "If you resist arrest, I will destroy you."
    "No, you won't."
    "I assure you I will."
    "You can't," said Hank.
    The alien looked at him with an expression that Hank took to be one of suspicion.
    "My ship," said the alien, "is armed and yours is not."
    "Oh, you mean those silly little weapons in your ship's nose?" Hank said. "They're no good against me."
    "No good?"
    "That's right, brother."
    "We are not even of the same species. Do not allow your ignorance to lead you into the error of insulting me. To amuse myself, I will ask you why you are under the illusion that the most powerful scientific weapons known have no power against you?"
    "I have," said Hank, "a greater weapon."
    * * *
    The alien looked at him suspiciously a second time.
    "You are a liar," the box said, after a moment.
    "Tut-tut," said Hank.
    "What was that last noise you made? My translator does not yet recognize it."
    "And it never will."
    "This translator will sooner or later recognize every word in your language."
    "Not a geepfleish word like tut-tut. "
    "What kind of a word?" It might, thought Hank, be merely false optimism on his part; but he thought the alien was beginning to look a little uncertain.
    "Geepfleish—words dealing with the Ultimate Art-Science."
    The alien hesitated for a third time.
    "To get back to this fantastic claim of yours to having a weapon—what kind of weapon could be greater than a nuclear cannon capable of destroying a mountain?"
    "Obviously," said Hank. "The Ultimate Weapon."
    "The . . . Ultimate Weapon?"
    "Certainly. The weapon evolved on Ultimate Art-Science principles."
    "What kind of a weapon," said the alien, "is that?"
    "It's quite impossible to explain," said Hank, airily, "to someone having no understanding of the Ultimate Art-Science."
    "May I see this weapon?"
    "You ain't capable of seeing it, kid," said Hank.
    "If you will demonstrate its power to me," said the alien, after a pause, "I will believe your claim."
    "The only way to demonstrate it would be to use it on you," said Hank. "It only works on intelligent life forms."
    He reached over the edge of his hammock and opened another beer. When he set the half-empty bottle down again the alien was still standing there.
    "You are a liar," the alien said.
    "A crude individual like you," said Hank, delicately wiping a fleck of foam from his upper lip with the back of one hairy hand, "would naturally think so."
    The alien turned abruptly and trundled his translator back toward his ship. A few moments later, the overhead light went out and the meadow was swallowed up in darkness except for the feeble light of the fire.
    "Well," said Hank, getting up out of the hammock and yawning, "I guess that's that for today."
    He took the guitar and went back to his ship. As he was going back in through the air lock, he thought he felt something about the size of a mouse scurry over his foot; and he caught a glimpse of something small, black and metallic that slipped out of sight under the control desk as he looked at it.
    Hank grinned rather foolishly at the room about him and went to bed.
    * * *
    He woke once during the night; and lay there listening. By straining his ears, he could just occasionally make out a faint noise of movements. Satisfied, he went back to sleep again.
    Early morning found him out of bed and humming to himself. He flipped the thermostat on the coffee maker up for a quick cup, set up the cabin thermostat and opened both doors of the air lock to let in the fresh morning air. Then he drew his cup of coffee, lowered the thermostat on the coffee maker again and keyed in the automatic broom. The broom scurried about, accumulating a small heap of dust and minor rubble, which it dumped outside the air lock. In the heap, Hank had time to notice, were a number of tiny mobile mechanical devices—like robot ants. Still drinking his coffee, he