"I certainly intend to. Bribery is indeed an exacting science."
"It is."
"It's a good thing you speak their language so you can do a deal. "
His eyebrows shot up at this and he leaned close. "You did not understand us?" he asked.
"I didn't take foreign languages in school."
"Foreign!" He looked shocked. "What a backward part of that porcuswine-rearing planet you must have come from. That was not a foreign language, dear boy. That was Esperanto, the galactic language, the simple, second language that everyone learns early and speaks like a native. Your education has been neglected, but that is easily repaired. Before our next planetfall you shall be speaking it as well. To begin with, all present tense verbs in all persons end in a-s. Simplicity itself. . . ."
He stopped as someone tried the handle on the cabin door. His finger touched his lips as he pointed to the adjoining bath. I dived that way and turned on the light there just as he turned off the one in the cabin. He joined me in a rush and jammed in beside me as I flicked off the light. He eased the door shut just as the corridor door opened.
Footsteps thudded across the cabin and there was the sound of thin whistling. A routine inspection, nothing to be seen, he would go away in an instant . . .
Then the bathroom door opened and the light came on. The gold-braided officer looked at The Bishop cramped into the tiny shower, at me crouching on the commode, as he smiled a singularly dirty smile.
"I thought there was too much activity below-decks. Stowaways. " A small gun appeared in his hand. "Out. You two are going ashore and I am calling the local police."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I leaned forward, getting my weight on my legs, muscles tense. Ready to attack the instant that The Bishop distracted the officer's attention. I really did not want to go against that gun with my bare hands-but I wanted even less to go back to jail. The Bishop must surely have been aware of this. He reached out a restraining hand.
"Now, let us not be hasty, James. Relax while I talk to this kind officer, "
His hand went slowly to his pocket, the gun following his every move, the fingers dipped deep-and came up with a thin wad of credits.
"This is advance payment for a small favor," he said, handing them over to the officer, who took the credits in both hands. Which was easy enough to do now that the gun had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. He counted while The Bishop talked.
"The favor we so humbly request is that you do not find us for two days. You will be paid this same sum tomorrow, and again 'the day after when you discover us and take us to the captain."
The money vanished and the gun reappeared-and I never saw his hands move. He was so good he should have been on the stage.
"I think not," he said. "I think I will take all the money you have concealed on your person and in your bags. Take it and bring you to the captain now. "
"Not very wise," The Bishop said sternly. "I will tell the captain exactly how much you took and he will relieve you of it and you will have nothing. I will also tell him which crewmen were bribed and they will feel deprived of their money and you will not be a popular officer on this ship. Will you?"
"There is a certain element of truth in what you say," he mused, rubbing his jaw in thought, hands empty again. "If the payments were increased perhaps . . ."
"Ten percent, no more," said The Bishop, and the payment was made. "See you tomorrow. Please relock the door behind you."
"Of course. Have a pleasant journey."
Then he was gone and I climbed down from the pot and seized and shook The Bishop's hand. "Congratulations, sir. A masterful demonstration of a science I scarcely knew existed. "
"Thank you, my boy. But it helps to know the ground rules. He never had any intention of turning us out of this ship. That was just his bid. I called it, he raised, I matched and closed. He knew he couldn't squeeze higher because I need a large sum in reserve for the captain. Unspoken, but agreed nevertheless, is my silence about the bribe to him. All done by the rules. . . ."
His words were cut off by the loud sound of a hooter in the corridor outside, while a red light began blinking rapidly over the door.
"Is something wrong?" I called out.
"Something is very right. We are ready for takeoff. I suggest that we recline on the bunks because some of these old clunkers put on the Gs when they blast free. A few minutes more and we shake the dust of Bit 0' Heaven from our shoes. Preferably forever. That prison, simply terrible, the food . . ."
A growing roar drowned out his words and the bunk began to tremble. Then the acceleration of takeoff jumped on my chest. Just like in the films-but far more exciting in reality. This was it! Off-planet! What joys lay ahead.
Pretty far ahead still. The mattress was thin and my back hurt from the pressure. Then we went in and out of null-G a few times before they got the artificial gravity right. Or almost right. Every once in awhile it would give a little hiccup. So would my stomach. This happened often enough so that during the next days I didn't miss the meals that I would normally have eaten. At least we had all the rusty, flat water we needed to drink. The officer stayed bribed, I stayed in my bunk most of the time and concentrated on the Esperanto lessons to forget my miseries. After two days of this the gravity finally straightened out and my appetite returned. I looked forward to our release, some more bribery-and some food.
"Stowaways!" the officer said when he unlocked the door, staggered, hand over heart. For the benefit of the crewgirl who accompanied him. 'Terrible, unheard of! On your feet, you two, and come with me. Captain Garth will want to know about this."
It was a very convincing performance, spoiled only by his ready hand for the money as soon as the crewgirl's back was turned. She seemed bored by the whole thing and was probably in on the deal herself. We tramped the corridor and up three flights of metal stairs to the bridge. The captain, at least, was shocked to see us. Probably the only one on the ship who didn't know we were aboard. "Damn and blast-where did these come from?"
"In one of the empty cabins on C deck."
"You were supposed to check those cabins."
"I did, my captain, it is in the log. One hour before takeoff. After that I was on the bridge with you. They must have come aboard after that."
"Who did you bribe?" Captain Garth said, turning to us, a grizzled old spacedog with a mean look in his eye.
"No one, captain," The Bishop said, sincerity ringing in his voice. "I know these old Reptile class freighters very well. Just before takeoff the guard at the gangway entered the ship. We came in behind him, unseen, and hid in the cabin. That is all there is to it."
"I don't believe a word of it. Tell me who you bribed or you'll be in the brig and in big trouble."
"My dear captain, your honest crewmen would never take bribes!" He ignored the unbelieving snort. "I have proof. All of my not inconsiderable fortune is intact and in my pocket. "
"Out," the captain instantly ordered all the men in the control room. "All of you. I'll take this watch. I want to question these two more thoroughly. "
The officer and the crewmembers shuffled out, their faces expressionless under his gaze. When they were gone the captain sealed the door and spun about. "Let's have it," he ordered. The Bishop passed over a very tidy sum and the captain riffled through it, then shook his head. "Not enough. "
"Of course," The Bishop agreed. "That is the opening payment. The balance after landfall on some agreeable planet with lax custom officers. "
"You ask a lot. I have no desire to risk trouble with planetary authorities by smuggling in illegal immigrants. It will be far easier to relieve you of the money right now and dispose of you as I will. "
The Bishop was not impressed at all by this ploy. He tapped his pocket and shook his head. "Not possible. Final payment is with this registered check for two-hundred thousand credits drawn on Galactic Credit and Exchange. It is not legal tender until I countersign it with a second signature. You may tortur
e me, but I will never sign! Until we are standing on firm ground."
The captain shrugged meaningfully and turned to the controls, making a minor adjustment before he turned back. "There is a matter of paying for your meals," he said calmly. "Charity does not pay my fuel bills."
"Absolutely. Let us fix a rate. "
That appeared to be all there was to it-but The Bishop whispered a warning as we went back down the corridor. "The cabin is undoubtedly bugged. Our luggage searched. I have all our funds on me. Stay close so there are no accidents. That officer, for one, would make an excellent professional pickpocket. Now-what do you say to a little food? Since we have paid we can end our enforced fast with a splendid feast. "
My stomach rumbled loud agreement with this suggestion, and we made for the galley. Since there were no passengers the fat, unshaven cook served only Venian peasant food. Fine for the natives, but it took some getting used to. Did you ever try to hold your nose and eat at the same time? I didn't ask the cook what we were eating-1 was afraid he would tell me. The Bishop sighed deeply and began to fork down his ration of gunge.
"The one thing I forgot about Venia," he said gloomily, "was the food. Selective memory I am sure. Who would want to recall at any time a feast like this?"
I did not answer since I was gulping at my cup of warm water to get the taste out of my mouth.
"Small blessings," I said. "At least the water here isn't as nasty as the stuff from the tap in our cabin." The Bishop sighed again.
"That is coffee that you are drinking."
A fun cruise it was not. We both lost weight since it was often better to avoid a meal than to eat it. I continued my studies, learning the finer points of embezzling, expense account grafting; double and treble entry bookkeeping- all done in Esperanto until I was as facile as a native in that fine language.
At our first planetfall we stayed in the ship since soldiers and customs officers were thick as sandfleas about the ship.
"Not here," the captain said, looking at the screened image of the ground with us. "Very rich planet, but they don't like strangers. The next planet in this system is one you will like, agricultural, low population, they can use immigrants, so there isn't even a customs office."
"The name?" The Baron asked.
"Amphisbionia."
"Never heard of it."
"Should you have? Out of thirty-thousand settled planets."
"True. But still . . ."
The Bishop seemed troubled and I couldn't understand why. If we didn't like this planet we could liberate enough funds to move on. But some instinct had him on edge. In the end he bribed the purser to use the ship's computer. When we were toying with our dinner he told me about it.
"Something doesn't smell right about this-smells worse than this food. " This was a horrifying thought. "I can find no record of a planet named Amphisbionia in the galactic guide. And the guide is updated automatically every time we land and hook into a planetary communication net. In addition to that, there is a lock on our next destination. Only the captain has the code to access it."
"What can we do?"
"Nothing--until after we land. We'll find out then what he is up to."
"Can't you bribe one of the officers?"
"I already did-that's how I found out that only the captain knows where we are heading. Of course he didn't tell me until after I paid. A dirty trick. I would have done the same thing myself."
I tried to cheer him up, but it was no use. I think the food had affected his morale. It would be a good thing to arrive at this planet, whatever it was. Certainly a good thief can make a living in any society. And one thing was certain. The food would have to be better than the sludge we were reluctantly eating now.
We stayed in our bunks until the ship touched down and the green light came on. Our meager belongings were already assembled and we carried them down to the airlock. The captain was operating the controls himself. He muttered as the automatic air analyzer ran through its test; the inner lock would not open until it was finished and satisfied with the results. It finally pinged and flashed its little message at him and he hit the override. The great hatch ground slowly open admitting a whiff of warm and pungent air. We sniffed it appreciatively.
"Here is a stylo," Captain Garth said. The Bishop merely smiled.
The captain led the way and we followed with our bags. It was night, stars were bright above, invisible creatures called from the darkness of a row of trees nearby. The only light was from the airlock.
"Here will do," the captain said, standing on the end of the ramp. The Bishop shook his head as he pointed at the metal surface.
"We are still on the ship. The ground if you please." They agreed on a neutral patch close to the ramp-but far enough from the ship to foil any attempt to rush us. The Bishop took out the check, accepted the stylo at last, then wrote his careful signature. The captain-ever suspicious!-compared it with the signature above and finally nodded. He walked briskly up the ramp as we picked up our bags-then turned and called out. "They're all yours now!"
As the ramp lifted up, out of our reach, powerful lights came on from the darkness, pinning us like moths. Armed men ran towards us as we turned, trapped, lost.
"I knew something was wrong," The Bishop said. He dropped his bags and grimly faced the rushing men.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A resplendent figure in a red uniform strode out of the darkness and stood before us twisting a large and elegant set of moustaches. Like someone out of a historic flick, he actually wore a sword, which he held firmly by the hilt.
"I'll take everything you two have. Everything. Quickly!" Two uniformed men came running up to see that we did as we were told. They were carrying strange-looking guns with large barrels and wooden stocks. Behind us I heard a creaking as the ramp came back down with Captain Garth standing on the end of it. I bent over to pick up the bags. And kept turning-diving at the captain, grabbing him.
There was a loud bang and something whirred by my head and spanged off the ship's hull. The captain swore and swung his fist at me. Couldn't have been better. I stepped inside the blow, grabbed the arm and levered it up into the small of his back. He screeched with pain; a lovely sound.
"Let him go," a voice said, and I looked over the captain's trembling shoulder to see that The Bishop was now lying on the ground with the officer's foot on his chest. And his sword was not just for decoration-because the point of it was now pressed to The Bishop's throat.
It was going to be one of those days. I gave the captain's neck a little squeeze with my free hand before I let go. He slithered straight down and his unconscious head bonged nicely on the ramp. I stepped away from him and The Bishop climbed unsteadily to his feet, dusting himself off as he turned to our captor.
"Excuse me, kind sir, but might I humbly ask you the name of this planet on whose soil we stand?"
"Spiovente," was the grunted answer.
"Thank you. If you permit, I will help my friend Captain Garth to his feet, for I wish to apologize to him for my young friend's impetuous behavior. "
No one stopped him as he turned to the captain, who had just regained consciousness.
He lost it again instantly as The Bishop kicked him in the side of the head.
"I am normally not a vindictive man," he said, turning away and digging out his Pallet. He handed it to the officer and said, "But just this once I wanted to express my feelings before returning to my normal peaceful self. You understand, of course, why I did that?"
"Would have done the same thing myself," the officer said, counting the money. "But the games are over. Don't ever speak to me again or you are dead."
He turned away as another man appeared from the darkness with two black metal loops in his hands. The Bishop stood, numb and unresisting, as the man bent and snapped one onto his ankle. I didn't know what the thing was-but I didn't like it. Mine would not be put on that easily.
Yes it would. The muzzle of the gun ground into my back and I made
no protest as the thing was snapped into place. The thing-snapper then stood up and looked me in the face, standing so close that his sewer breath washed over me. He was ugly to boot, with a puckered scar that added no improvement to the face. He pushed a sharp finger into my chest as he spoke.
"I am Tars Tukas, servant of our lord the mighty Capo Doccia. But you never call me by name; you always call me master."
I started to call him something, something that was quite an improvement on master, when he pressed a button a metal box slung from his belt.
Then I was on the ground, trying to shake the red fog of pain from my eyes. The first thing I saw was The Bishop lying before me, groaning in agony. I helped him to his feet; Tars Tukas needn't have done that, not to a man his age. He was grinning a lopsided scarred grin when I turned.
"Who am I?" he asked. I resisted all temptation, for The Bishop's sake if not my own.
"Master."
"Don't forget, and don't try to run away. There are neural repeaters right around the entire country. If I leave this on for long enough, all your nerves stop working. Forever. Understood?"
"Understood, master."
"Hand over everything you got on you."
I did. Money, papers, coins, keys, watch, the works. He frisked me roughly and seemed satisfied for the moment. "Let's move."
A tropical dawn had come quickly and the lights were being turned out. We didn't look back as we followed our new master. The Bishop was having difficulty in walking and I had to help him. Tars Tukas led us to a battered wooden cart that was standing close by. We were waved into the back. We sat on the plank seat and watched while crates were lowered from the cargo hatch of the spacer.
"That was a nice droplock on the captain," I said. "You obviously know something about his planet that I don't. What was the name?"
"Spiovente." He spat the word like a curse. "The millstone around the League's neck. That captain has sold us down the river with a vengeance. And he is a smuggler too. There is a complete embargo on contact with this stinking world. Particularly weapons-which I am sure those cases are full of. Spiovente!"
The Stainless Steel Rat is Born Page 13