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.