“I’ll look into it and call you back,” Stramm said.
We rested out of sight in the forest, with guards out on all sides. It was well after dark, and I must have dozed off, when Stramm’s voice inside my skull brought me quickly back on line.
“Are you ready?”
“Speak—and I obey.”
“The hatch will be open in ten minutes. I’ll lower the rope when I get a signal from you. Grab the ring on the end . . .”
“And climb?”
“I have a motor here to reel you in. Don’t fall off.”
“What encouragement . . .”
As planned, Bram and some of the sturdier scouts were waiting under the trees at the forest’s edge. By the light of the waning moon I could just pick out the dark opening of the emergency lock. It seemed very small and very high.
“I can see the airlock . . .”
“Rope dropping—now!”
We ran—as silently as we could. And ran right over the soldiers who sprawled on the tarmac. A few startled cries were cut off by the quick thudding of wooden clubs.
Then I slammed into the landing fin and groped for the metal ring swinging slowly above me. Just out of reach above my head.
There were shouts from around the field now as the Greenies stirred to life.
“Bram, give me a lift.”
He threw his club aside, bent and seized me by the waist—and heaved. I grabbed at the ring—just managed to get my fingers onto it—then clutched at it with my other hand.
“Take your men back!” I shouted as the rope started up with a sudden motion—almost tearing lose my grip.
I clutched with grim desperation, as I swung about and looked down. My troops were pelting back to the safety of the forest—leaving a few sprawled green bodies in their wake. As far as I could tell they all had made it.
I turned my attention back to my swift ascent. Crashed against the hull, kicked myself clear. Then the motor stopped grinding and a mighty hand clutched my wrist. With my waning strength I hauled myself through the lock and collapsed onto the floor.
“Let us . . . not do that again . . .” I gasped.
“Captain’s waiting for you.” All heart our engineer.
I just lay there enjoying a good gasp as the outer door closed. By the time the inner door ground open I was on my feet and ready to go. Stramm went with me, morose and silent. The captain was no better, but at least he made an effort to welcome the wanderer’s return. He poured a glass of strong cider from the jug on the plotting table. I drank deep, and sighed.
“Thanks. I needed that.”
“We are in deep trouble—and getting in deeper,” was his grim prediction.
“Welcome back boss, welcome!” I said. Feigning happiness. “Shall I tell you what I have discovered—and how we will get out of this mess?”
“Yes, do,” he sighed, uncheered in the slightest.
But they did listen intently as I told them about our adventures during our escape. Our new friends in the forest—and what we had discovered.
“So what do we do next?” Stramm asked. I poured another glass and groped for an answer. My mind was blank. When in doubt—and was I ever!—answer a question with another question.
“Have you been in contact with the Greenies?”
“Far too much . . .” the captain gloomed. “First they said it was all a mistake, some renegades, since caught. Told us to come out and talk like reasonable men. Then came the threats—and the attack. When the gas drove them off all pretense ended. They even wiped off their makeup—green as grass, like the rest of them. That’s where it stands now.”
“How long can this impasse hold?”
“No one in the ship likes it, but we can get by for a while. There is more than enough food, but water is a different matter. We’re going to have to fill the tanks fairly soon. The passengers aren’t in open rebellion yet—but it won’t be long.”
“Can you hold out for a few more days? Then we’ll move the ship away from here. Land it and board the beasts, fill the water tanks—and blast off before the Greenies arrive. But before we leave this dismal planet I want to find out if they have interstellar communication or not. Agreed?”
“Agreed—but first, how are you going to get out of the ship now—with all these angry natives surrounding it?”
“Another drop of cider, please.” I pushed my glass forward and smiled what was surely a fake smile. “Let me give that a moment’s thought.”
It was a brief moment, because seconds later there was a loud hammering on the door. The captain’s gloomy face grew even gloomier.
“They didn’t take long.” He nodded to Stramm. “Better let them in.”
Elmo was first through the unlocked door. Followed closely by Miz Julia who, for some unknown reason, was carrying a rolling pin.
“What’s happening with the herd?” Elmo cried, shaking his fist. “Is they all right?’
“Tell us!” Miz Julia shouted, waving her strange weapon. “The sows—the piglets . . .”
“All fine and feeding in the forest. Angelina is looking after them with the greatest care.”
“We gotta see them . . . and get outta this ship!” Elmo said, more concerned with self than swine.
“Let me reassure you that plans are already under way to do just that. As soon as I leave this ship—”
“And how you doing that?”
I was getting a little tired of Elmo. “You’ll just have to leave that up to us,” I growled, then turned to Miz Julia, stood and offered her my arm.
“May I escort you back to your quarters? It has been nice talking with you again.”
She looked suspicious—with good reason—but accepted the offer. I chatted amiably as we exited the bridge.
“The sows are rooting in a walnut grove . . . and the piglets grow plump on the rich diet . . .”
“My—that is wonderful to hear!” Her weapon, forgotten, swung by her side.
“It surely is. Now, while we are having this nice little talk—could I ask you a favor?”
“Of course.”
“I was just wondering—do you, or any of your ladies—have any skin cream?”
I responded quickly to her wide eyes and dropped jaw.
“Not for me! It’s for Angelina. Living rough, the sun, she is so worried about her skin . . .”
“Why, the poor child. Of course . . . I know that Becky Sue has some.”
“Could you bring it to my cabin, if you please. I’m packing up some clothes for her as well.”
“I’ll do just that!” She hurried away—as did I—snarling as I passed Elmo as he tried to open what was sure to be a mind-destroying conversation.
I thanked Miz Julia when she brought the cream, and asked her to thank the cosmetic-conscious Becky Sue as well. I put it in a light backpack with the clothes, and made by way back to the bridge.
“I’m leaving now,” I told the surprised officers.
“How . . . and why?” the captain asked.
“Why? Because the not-too-bright Greenies are now passing the word of the evening’s excitement, then slowly considering what to do, while at the same time they are being thoroughly confused. The sooner we act the better the element of surprise. As to how I will get out—I will exit in just the way I came in. And the quicker the better. I’ll count on speed and my reliable and alert troops to stay one jump ahead of the Greenies. All right?”
They were reluctant but had no choice.
“Sounds like suicide. But when—and if—you manage to get clear, you will let us know what is happening?” the captain asked.
“As soon as I can.”
Stramm led the way back to the airlock. “Grab onto the ring,” Stramm said, “because I’m turning the lights out before I open the outer lock. And I don’t want to run the motor to lower you—they’ll hear the sound. I threw a couple of bights of the rope around a stanchion, so I’ll brake your descent.”
The moon had set; the night was dark
and silent. I hoped that it would remain that way. And hoped even more ardently that the engineer’s good right arm . . . was a good right arm.
I settled the pack on my back, grabbed the ring and wriggled my way out of the lock.
“Ready,” I whispered, easing my weight out onto the rope.
And fell! Stramm had either lost control or was overly enthusiastic about my rate of descent.
The ground rushed up towards me.
An instant before I hit I kicked hard against the hull. Thrust away with both feet and tumbled into a shoulder roll. The pack punched my back—and then I was down and gasping for air. The wind knocked out of me.
There were shouts and whistles on all sides, running green men looming up out of the darkness. I stumbled, dropped, staggered to my feet again—and they were onto me, clutching at my arms.
Then getting clubbed down.
It was a murderous melee in the darkness.
More shouting and more men appeared. The Greeny holding my arms grunted and fell limply away.
“To me,” sounded in a loud whisper and this time I was seized in a more friendly grip and hurried from the field of combat. There were low whistles now—a prearranged signal I imagined.
“We’ll wait here for the others,” Bram whispered. “We leave no one behind.”
Nor did we. When the count was complete we moved silently and quickly away.
“One unconscious,” Bram said. “We’re carrying him. Brkur has a broken arm—you can hear him cursing.” And I could. Other men were laughing, that was understandable. But I felt sorry for Brkur as well.
When we were well clear of the field we made our first stop. There was some pained gasping as the broken arm was wrapped and immobilized, then we moved on again.
Dawn was just breaking when we came to the encampment. Angelina was waiting there.
“Are you all right?” she asked, clutching my arms.
“Fine—as well as all our loyal troops. The ship was attacked—pretty ineffectually—and those within are bored but sound. Plans have been made and I’ll reveal all as soon as I have a drink of water.”
I passed her my pack.
“And here are some clean clothes.”
She gasped, laughed—and kissed me on the cheek.
“You never cease to amaze me! A Stainless Steel Rat . . . with a heart of purest gold.”
WE SAT ON A GRASSY bank and watched the sunrise. Another nice day in what should have been paradise, but was a green purgatory instead.
“I have worked out a rough plan of action,” I said as I reached into the pack. “And this may be the key.”
I took out the jar of face cream and held it proudly aloft.
“No more puzzles—or jokes—if you don’t mind.”
“I’m deadly serious. Before we leave this wretched planet we must find out if the gruesome Greenies have interstellar communication. After all, that’s the reason we came here in the first place. And we certainly can’t ask them for all the obvious reasons. But our new friends told me that pink prisoners have been seen from time to time. And there is the possibility that there is one in a cotton mill less than a day’s walk from here . . .”
She clapped her hands and laughed: no dummy my Angelina.
“So you are going to dye your skin—and break in so you can break the prisoner out!”
“Right in all ways! The pinks use a green vegetable dye for their leather clothes. A quick mix and I’m ready to go.”
“Clothes?”
“Our tracker prisoner, Grincch, is just about my size . . .”
“I’ll have him stripped now so I can wash his clothes before you even think about putting them on.”
“While I get the dye—and put the proposition to Bram.”
Who understood at once—and ran with the plan.
“I will get the dye and tell the others. They will all want to come!”
“Not all of them. A small war party is all I need.”
“But you must know more about the mill and the cotton fields. I am going to send one—no two is better—of our fastest trackers to meet our people nearest to the fields. We will need their guidance. You really want to just, well, walk in among them?”
“That’s the plan.”
“You are indeed a brave man . . .”
“Lots more would say I’m incredibly stupid.”
“Not us! You must pick a time—perhaps at dusk?”
“Perfect.”
“That means we should arrive there when there is still some daylight left.” He looked up at the sun. “It is too late to leave today . . .”
“Not to mention getting a bit of sleep before we go—”
“That too, of course.” He didn’t sound convinced. Trackers were made of stern stuff.
The green dye was a whitish powder that turned a brilliant green when mixed with a little water. I stirred and blended, working it into the face cream until it took on a satisfactory hue. I rubbed some on the back of my left hand and held it up to admire.
“I get a cold chill just looking at it,” Angelina said and held out the still-damp, burlap clothes.
“My size?” I asked.
“We’ll soon see. They really are baggy and shapeless so I don’t think it will be a problem. But his sandals are falling to pieces, a disaster—”
“Not a problem. I’ll wear my own boots. Scuff them up and cover them with mud, until they look like everyone else’s footwear.”
Next morning we were all up before dawn. Angelina worked by the light of a guttering lamp to spread the dyed cream smoothly over my hands and face.
“I suppose you are not inviting me along on your little expedition,” she said casually but most meaningfully. I sighed and shook my head.
“If there were something you could do to help I would ask in a flash. But it is a one-man job. That I will do all the better if I know that you are here and safe.”
Her slow nod was answer enough. She was realist enough to know that—this time at least—her talents could not be of any use.
“Done,” she said. Holding up the lantern to admire her cosmetic skills. “You look utterly loathsome.”
“My thanks! I aim but to blend with our equally loathsome adversaries.”
“Don’t go near any of the children here—you’ll only make them cry.”
Bram was equally taken. He actually reached for his cudgel when he turned and saw me in the dim light of dawn.
“For an instant, I thought we were being attacked! Come, we must show the others.”
My makeup and outfit were an instant and horrible success. Men gaped and twitched their weapons: women screamed and fled.
“Just the five of you are going?” Angelina asked.
“They’ll get me there—and safely back. And there should be plenty of help waiting for us when we arrive.”
A lot was left unsaid. I had to do this alone, we both knew that. We started our journey just as the sun was breaking through the trees.
The trackers were hard men and experienced. Twice whispered word came back of danger ahead, and we made a quick circle around the trouble. Two of my companions had dried meat in their shoulder bags; we ate as we walked, then drank from a stream that cut through the woods.
The sky darkened and by late afternoon there were ominous rumblings from the clouds. A thin mist began to fall: I could only hope that my war paint was waterproof.
It was not an easy trek, so I was more than happy to flop down when Bram signaled a halt. The rain had stopped—and my skin coloring was still intact.
“The cotton fields are just ahead,” Bram said. “We’ll meet the others, the ones who left before us, here in this grove.”
We didn’t have to wait very long before dark and silent forms began to filter through the trees. More and more of them—the local trackers had joined them, most of them carrying bows. A tall man, obviously their leader, stepped forward.
“You are Bram. I knew your father well when we were growing up
.”
“Then you must be Alun.”
“I am.” They clasped hands. “And your father is in good health?”
“He’s dead. Killed by them.”
“A curse on all Grønner.”
Bram nodded; a fate all too familiar to even talk about.
“Have there been any more sightings of the person we seek?” Bram asked.
“Just one,” Alun said, pointing at the low building just beyond the field. “A positive identification. They had ropes tied to him and he was not green.”
“Can you get me close to him?” I asked. He nodded.
“Let me show you what this place is like.” He bent over a dry patch of ground, used the tip of his bow to trace a square shape in the dirt.
“This is the cotton field—and we are here, on the forest side of it. On the other side,” he traced another box, “is a building with machines of some kind. I am told they make the cotton into cloth in some way.”
Beyond the mill he traced out more squares. “Here there are many buildings where the cotton workers live, more and more of them. We want to stay away from them. Many guards there, many more of their people.” He tapped the largest square.
“The field workers will be leaving here very soon. When they do, we’ll let you through the fence so you walk after them.” He looked at my green face in disgust. “You will do fine, just fine.”
“They are leaving the field now!” Bram called out. “You must go and follow them.”
Two of the trackers bent over the wooden fence, holding open a gap they had forced between interlocked boughs. As I wriggled through Bram pointed to the grove of tall trees we had just left. “We’ll be waiting here when you come back.”
Then I was through, standing and walking behind the others. On my own.
Which was just the way I liked it.
Some of them carried wooden hoes, shambling, tired from a long day’s work. As I walked closer no one even looked my way.
First step done, Jim. You are just one more green among Greenies. Now all you have to do is find your target.
My fellow travelers shuffled past the building, going around it to their quarters beyond. I slowed and lagged behind. I paused at a door and pulled on the handle. It was open.
The Stainless Steel Rat Returns Page 14