“Yes, of course. We take them by oxcart. They are strong and willing creatures.”
“Does it take very long?”
“There is an easy road through Burnham Wood. A half-day’s travel at the most. But, I beg you, do not go there! Nothing but evil comes from the city.” He drank deep, our early perilous conversation seemingly forgotten.
“I must see them—and deal with them. For our mutual benefit I assure you. Nothing but good will come of my visit there.”
“In that case we will assist you, Jim of DiGriz, for you are a man of great wisdom.”
“I sincerely hope that I am, Bilboa of Burgansee. We will talk again in the morning.”
I returned to the ship in a somber mood—to see my darling wife in the nut grove, waving a greeting. I waved back and when I drew close I saw that she glowed with good spirits. Holding the leash that was tethered to a panting and very glassy-eyed Pinky. Even her bristles were drooping.
“We had a lovely stroll by the flower fields. Then a nice run back. She’ll sleep well tonight. And so will you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because the ladies told me that your uniform is finished and ready for a fitting.”
“Now?”
“Indeed!”
Pinky squealed a feeble protest when she was awakened and forced to walk between us. The ladies of the sewing circle must have been watching out for us because they emerged from the building en masse. When we drew close they parted ranks and proudly held aloft their sable garment.
“Tre tre bonega!” I gasped for it was indeed a beautiful creation.
“It’s not quite dry yet,” Angelina said.
“It may dye my skin but not my soul!”
There was a small dressing room just inside the front door. I stripped down, then happily slipped into the uniform’s clammy embrace. My dark image in the mirror was truly stupendous. I threw the door wide and emerged to resounding applause. I bowed in response.
“A work of art that exceeds my wildest expectation. Thank you, kind ladies of Floradora, thank you.”
I carried it back to the ship in triumph. To the welcome news that Stramm had finished all of the metal religious badges. We called a council of war on the bridge where my new uniform was greatly admired. With the badges attached it was even more impressive.
“I went through all your shoes,” Angelina said. “You have a pair of black climbing boots that will really fill the bill. But you need a uniform hat of some kind.”
“As good as done. I’ll do just what I did with the uniform—amalgamate all the most repulsive headgear into one repellant black and frightening cap. Will your ladies be able to make it up?”
“They have some wondrous holiday headgear, so I know they can.”
“Things are shaping up to perfection,” I said. “I can see it all happening now. Our convey of oxcarts leaves here at dusk and we reach our destination before morning. The troops line up on the forest’s edge. The amplifier is set up and I am ready on the motorcycle. On the signal there is an ear destroying blast of trumpets and I gun the motorcycle forward. And . . .”
My voice ran down and they all leaned forward expectantly, waiting . . .
“And . . . something is missing.”
“What . . . ?” Angelina breathed softly, speaking for them all.
“And we must have something truly impressive happen. Something as dramatic as a pillar of fire . . .”
“No problem,” Stramm said. “I doubt if you have ever heard of thermite?”
“Indeed I have. I have used it in . . . errr . . . construction.” Destruction would be more correct.
“It’s new to me,” the captain said.
“It’s a mixture of finely ground iron oxide and aluminum,” Stramm said. “Used mostly for welding.”
“Or making a great fireball!” I added. “But it’s dangerous to handle.”
“Not with the correct igniter. And a launcher of some kind. I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“Please do that!” I chortled. “Gentlemen—and lady—we have a plan!”
“Do we?” Angelina said, with an edge to her voice. “And just what part am I to play in this plan?”
“Light of my life—you have made it possible with this fine uniform.”
“I see. The little lady stays in the sewing room while the brave men go off to war . . .”
“Not at all! It’s just a one-man job . . .”
“One man, one woman. I’ll run up a black uniform for myself and go along as your assistant—and bodyguard.”
There was an air of finality in her voice that brooked no argument. I opened my mouth to protest, but words would not come. I looked to Stramm and the captain for aid, but they were looking away.
“Yes, indeed. That certainly is a good idea.”
IT TOOK THE BETTER PART of three days to make our preparations. And all of that time I was living in a fool’s paradise. The future looked so bright! We would storm the city with flame and threat and—seemingly—armed strength. Subdue the Vengefulers, make interstellar contact, then leave this planet forever. Elmo and Bilboa were now good buddies and both seemed to like the idea of the porcuswiners staying here on this friendly world. The future was bright and beautiful.
Until it all came crashing down. Elmo tracked me down to the engine room where I was helping Stramm to construct a thermite bomb thrower.
“Cousin Jim . . .”
I looked up to see him in best cringing mode. Slumped over, wringing his hat, shivering.
“Yes?”
“Could I kind of talk to you, mebbe outside . . .”
“Tell me here, good cousin many-times removed. I have no secrets from engineer Stramm.”
“It’s, maybe, I . . .”
“Speak—for we are all literally in the same boat together.”
“Well . . . I kind of gave our friend Bilboa a present, you know, friendly like. Strange feller, took it the wrong way. Got angry. Told me to tell you that we all gotta get off this planet at once. Or even sooner, that’s what he said.”
There was a clang as Stramm dropped his wrench. We were both now staring straight at the quavering Elmo who shied away.
“And what, may I ask, was this present you gave him?”
The frigid silence lengthened before Elmo coughed and spoke so quietly I could barely hear him.
“I thought shore he would like it . . . them feeding us so well and all. I didn’t know he would take offense . . .”
“Elmo! What was it?”
“A nice big slab of smoked porcuswine ribs . . .”
My wrench also clanged to the deck.
“You microcephalic moron! They’re all vegetarians! Why didn’t you offer him your grandmother’s smoked leg as well . . .”
He fled, Stramm’s thrown hammer just missing him.
All our careful plans were as naught in the face of this disaster. Or were they?
“What do we do?” Stramm asked.
“We’ll not change our plans. We tell Bilboa that if he doesn’t help us get to the city he’ll be stuck with our carnivorous presence for a very long time. We must get there to summon off-planet help. He’ll do it—if only to get rid of us. We have to go ahead with our plans . . . nothing has changed.”
“Right. Let’s start by taking this catapult out and testing it.”
We needed some muscle to move the bulky contraption out of the ship. So I summoned up some swineherd help. They all looked most impressive in their black-dyed dungarees. Quite a crowd had gathered by the time we were ready to go. Angelina and the captain were there, but this was no time to tell them about Elmo’s major crime. He was prominent by his absence—with good reason.
Stramm had designed his machine around a heavy steel spring. A geared-down, battery-powered motor bent the spring until a hook locked it into place.
“I’m glad I got the flint from the locals,” Stramm said. “Before that moron dropped us all into it.”
“Flint?�
�
“Best way to ignite thermite—nice hot spark. I took a chance there was flint on this planet. And there is. Plus I got some flint igniters that they use to start their stove fires.” He picked up a heavy bag. “Sand bag, same weight as the thermite bombs. Now, let’s see what kind of range we get.”
He shooed the gawking spectators away from the line of fire, then pulled the release knob. The catapult twanged and the sandbag flew a good hundred meters before it thudded to the ground with a puff of dust. Stramm smiled with satisfaction
“I measured the distance on the photo of the city, then paced it out. The bag hit just about as far as the city is from the edge of the woods.”
“Wonderful. Could we test one of your thermite bombs as well? To make sure we are all right on the night?”
“Of course. That’s why I made some extras.”
The spring was bent and locked into place. Stramm removed one of the igniters from a box and plunged the ignition spike through the bag and into the thermite powder. Then he carefully sealed it into position with twisted lengths of wire. He did this slowly and patiently while the onlookers stirred and muttered to one another. He would not be hurried. The final touch was hooking the looped end of the igniter cord over a knob on the catapult.
“Done,” he said, straightening up. “When it’s released, the spark will ignite the thermite and—bang—it should burst into flame.” He turned to Angelina who stood close by and pointed to the release knob.
“Would you like to do the honors?”
“Delighted.”
“Ready, Jim?”
“Go!”
A quick tug released the spring—and the instant the firebomb was airborne there was a brilliant flash and a sudden trail of smoke. There was a concerted gasp from the onlookers as it hit the ground with a great gout of flame.
“I imagine that will get their attention,” I said. “Congratulations, stout Stramm.”
“Just good engineering, Boss.”
“Then we are ready to go?”
“Whenever you say the word.”
“Tonight?”
“We’re on!”
But only after I girded my loins and had a heart-to-heart with Bilboa.
However, when Angelina and I strolled over to the settlement we found that all the houses had drawn curtains and locked doors. Even when I knocked loudly there was no response. Angelina watched my frustration grow and put a gentle restraining hand on my arm.
“I’m going to talk to some of my sewing friends about this. Never underestimate the gentler way.”
With some reluctance I nodded agreement. “You’re right of course. Do it—I’ll wait here.”
Nor did it take long. She soon reappeared, smiling happily.
“Good as done. They see the wisdom of a high-level conference and a number of them are talking to Bilboa right now.”
What unseen pressures lurked behind that simple statement! Why did I feel sorry for him?
Only a short time passed before a gray-haired woman appeared and waved us over. “He’s in there,” she said, pointing to the open door of a nearby building.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Angelina said. “I’ve been invited to tea.”
“Enjoy. And thanks for the gentle touch.”
But there was nothing gentle about Bilboa, or the score of gray-beards who were sitting beside him and scowling furiously.
“Well, gentlemen,” I said coldly, just as grim as they were. “We are facing a problem that must be solved.”
WHEN I RETURNED TO THE ship, Angelina, ever understanding, handed me a large glass of cool amber liquid when I had dropped into a welcoming chair.
“It wasn’t easy convincing them, but I had to win eventually. I finally persuaded them that the only way they would be rid of us, and our repulsive eating habits, was by taking us to the city. We leave tonight, as soon as it is dark. When we get there the oxcarts will wait deep in the woods to bring us back. If they do that, I promised we would be gone within twenty-four hours.”
“I think I shall miss Floradora and my new friends. They are really very nice people.”
“Agreed. But I’m afraid they don’t think very much of us. Now—I feel it is time to get a bit of rest. It is going to be very, very busy come dawn tomorrow.”
THE PROMISED OXCARTS WERE WAITING—a long line of them for our troops. The soldier-farmers chattered among themselves, excited by this break in their daily routine. I don’t think they truly understood what we were up to. Nor did they have to. We had rehearsed their assigned roles and they had mastered all the complexities of hiding behind the trees. Step forward into the clearing when ordered to. Shout loudly and shake the wooden guns. To then step back behind the trees. It took a number of rehearsals before they got this hideously complicated procedure right. They carried baskets of food and jugs of hard cider and treated the whole affair as a holiday. A fool’s paradise.
Enough! I wasn’t going to spend the trek worrying. I knew what must be done and I would do it. I grabbed the jug from a passing yokel and took a long drag. Angelina appeared at this moment—fetchingly dressed in black.
“Your hat,” she said, passing over a cloth-wrapped bundle. “They had to smuggle it out, but they were as good as their word.”
I peeled away the cloth and gasped. “Formidable!” And indeed it was. The blackest of blacks. A deep, dark visor and above, circling the crown, a tasteful line of skulls and crossbones. I pulled it on and Angelina clapped.
“Most impressive!”
“Thank you.” I pointed to the oxcarts. “On to victory!”
Or axle-squeaking boredom. I did manage to nap a bit as we lurched on through the night. There were almost three hours to dawn when we reached our destination, what Bilboa assured us was the correct location. There was enough light from the two moons to pick out the path among the trees to reach the edge of the clearing. And there, looming up above us, was the dark and menacing bulk of the city.
Standing below the high walls, looking at its sinister outline, I was suddenly depressed. Were all my plans just smoke and mirrors? How could my bluffing approach fool anyone?
Angelina put her arm around me and gave me a warm hug.
“You can do it. You are probably the only one in the known universe who can.”
She knew me so well! I returned the hug warmly and thankfully. Cheered and grateful.
“We’ll knock ’em dead!”
“That’s the Rat I know and love!”
“Now we can move all our gear into place. I checked out on the motorcycle and I hope you will sit behind me when we storm the bastion.”
“Of course—it will be a fun ride!”
Fun? Not quite the word I would normally use. But, perhaps she was right.
We could do it.
THE TROOPS DOZED UNDER THE trees through the warm evening hours. I was resolutely awake, planning the encounter to come. At first glimmer of light on the western horizon I walked back under the trees and woke my sleeping soldiers, then pushed them stumbling to their positions. Angelina joined me and shushed the waking farmers when they started talking loudly.
Stramm had all the equipment in position and gave me a thumbs-up, clearly visible in the light of dawn.
“Just tell me when,” he whispered, holding on to the launching handle.
“Very soon now.”
I climbed aboard the motorcycle and Angelina slipped up behind me. The gate in the wall was clearly visible, with the dark forms of soldiers on the wall above.
“Now!”
I hit the ignition button just as the loudspeakers placed among the trees blasted out the ear-shattering bugle call, drowning out the roar of the exhaust. The burning glare of the thermite bomb sizzled by over my head to crash into the wall with an explosion of flame.
Angelina held tight to me as the bike gunned forward, the front wheel rising high.
I had the throttle wide open as we roared towards the gate. Only hitting the brakes at the last possib
le moment so we screeched to a stop.
A second thermite bomb sizzled past—just over my head—and exploded against the gate. In seconds the wooden gate had caught fire and was now burning nicely.
“Very dramatic!” Angelina said, slipping off the bike. I touched the mike switch on my cap and the amplified roar of my voice replaced the blaring bugles.
“NOW HEAR THIS!”
What they heard was the shout of our troops as they stepped out from the cover of the trees, shaking their weapons over their head. As they drew back my amplified voice replaced their throaty roar.
“Obey me and you will not be harmed. My troops and weapons are here. My spacer is in orbit, armed with atomic weapons, and awaits my instructions. Open your gate for me—NOW!”
I paused for dramatic effect, then spoke with the voice of destiny.
“I am General diGriz, First Galactic Inspector of the Intergalactic Department of Religious Control.”
Carried away by enthusiasm Stramm launched another sizzling firebomb against the already burning gate. I walked towards it, felt its heat on my face. Stood, hands on my hips, staring up at it.
“OPEN!” my amplified voice boomed—followed by an ear-blasting blare of trumpets.
More figures were moving about on the wall above now. But nothing was happening. I had to keep them off balance. I switched off the mike before I spoke to Angelina.
“Put a shot through the gate—up high.”
Before I finished talking a shot blasted a gaping hole in the wooden gate—and the gun was already back in its holster. I switched the mike back on.
“Followers of the Church of the Vengeful God, I command you: open—or die in sin!”
A little stir of their paranoia was called for here.
Was it moving?
Yes—the gate was opening!
We stamped our way in past the wall of flame.
Black-garbed soldiers stumbled away across the courtyard before us. I reached out and seized the nearest one of them by the collar and shook him a bit.
“Take me to your master,” I ordered, my words echoing from the speakers behind me. I thumbed off the mike as we followed after him into the grim building beyond.
The Stainless Steel Rat Returns Page 8