Jag letar efter en novell
"Jaktproblem" av Robert Sheckley . Du kan läsa den på Internet Archive ; notera att sidorna 29 och 39 införlivas i den skannade kopian av Galaxy Science Fiction .
Om en utlänning som, för att kunna accepteras i någon form av "rymdpatrull", måste bevisa sitt värde genom att ta med människans hud med endast traditionella jaktmetoder. Utlänningsledningen tror inte att människor är intelligenta varelser, de använder inte ordet "mänsklig".
De kallar människan Mirash:
The Leader studied him for a moment. Then he said slowly, "Drog, how would you like one last chance to make first class, and win an achievement badge as well?"
"I'd do anything!" Drog cried.
"Very well," the Patrol Leader said. "What is the name of our patrol."
"The Charging Mirash Patrol."
"And what is a Mirash?"
"A large and ferocious animal," Drog answered promptly. "Once they inhabited large parts of Elbonai, and our ancestors fought many savage battles with them. Now they are extinct."
"Not quite," the Leader said. "A scouter was exploring the woods five hundred miles north of here, coordinates S-233 by 482-W, and he came upon a pride of three Mirash, all bulls, and therefore huntable. I want you, Drog, to track them down, to stalk them, using Forest and Mountain Lore. Then, utilizing only pioneering tools and methods, I want you to bring back the pelt of one Mirash. Do you think you can do it?"
Utlänningen hittade tre dudes (jag tror att någon slags brottslingar i ett hemligt uppdrag i en träsk eller något sådant) och efter många försök lyckas han äntligen. . . Men i slutet, vilka utlänningar tror är mänsklig hud, är egentligen bara kläderna.
The Scouter Jamboree was a glorious spectacle. The Soaring Falcon Patrol, number 22, gave a short pantomime showing the clearing of the land on Elbonai. The Brave Bisons, number 31, were in full pioneer dress.
And at the head of Patrol 19, the Charging Mirash Patrol, was Drog, a first-class Scouter now, wearing a glittering achievement badge. He was carrying the Patrol flag—the position of honor—and everyone cheered to see it.
Because waving proudly from the flagpole was the firm, fine-textured, characteristic skin of an adult Mirash, its zippers, tubes, gauges, buttons and holsters flashing merrily in the sunshine.