The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection

by Harry Harrison

  ‘I am sorry. I could not stop them. He is dead, the old man. Dead.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  He lay on the bunk, eyes closed as though he were sleeping. But never that still, never. Dreng had drawn my blanket over him, up to his chin combed his hair and cleaned his face.

  ‘I could not move him when the attack came,’ Dreng said. ‘He was too heavy, too ill. The wound in his back was bad, black, his skin hot. He told me to leave him, that he was dead in any case. He said if they didn’t kill him the ’fection would. They didn’t have to stab him though …’

  My friend and my teacher. Murdered by these animals. He was worth more than the entire filthy population of this world gathered together. Dreng took me by the arm and I shook him off, turned on him angrily. He was holding out a small packet.

  ‘I stole the piece of paper for him,’ Dreng said. ‘He wanted to write to you. I stole it.’

  There was nothing to be said. I unwrapped it and a carved wooden key fell to the floor. I picked it up, then looked at the paper. There was a floor plan of the keep drawn on it, with an arrow pointing to a room carefully labelled strongroom. Below it was the message, and I read what was written there in a tight, clear hand.

  I have been a bit poorly so I may not be able to give you this in person. Make a metal copy of the key – it opens the strongroom. Good luck, Jim. It has been my pleasure to know you. Be a good rat.

  His signature was carefully written below. I read the name – then read it again. It wasn’t The Bishop – or any of the other aliases he had ever used. He had left me a legacy of trust – knowing that I was probably the only person in the universe who would value this confidence. His real name.

  I went and sat down outside in the sun, suddenly very weary. Dreng brought me a cup of water. I had not realised how thirsty I was; I drained it and sent him for more.

  This was it, the end. He had felt the approach of darkness – but had worried about me. Thought of me when it was really his own death that was looming so close.

  What next? What should I do now?

  Fatigue, pain, remorse – all overwhelmed me. Not realising what was happening I fell asleep, sitting there in the sun, toppled over on my side. When I awoke it was late in the afternoon. Dreng had wadded his blanket and put it under my head. He sat now at my side.

  There was nothing more to be said. We put The Bishop’s body on one of the little carts and wheeled it along the causeway to the shore. We were not the only ones doing this. There was a small hill beside the road, a slope of grass with trees above it, a pleasant view across the water to the keep. We buried him there, tamping the soil down solidly and leaving no marker. Not on this disgusting world. They had his body, that was enough. Any memorial I erected in his honour would be lightyears away. I would take care of that one day when the proper moment came.

  ‘But right now, Dreng, we take care of Capo Doccia and his hoodlums. My good friend did not believe in revenge so I cannot either. So we shall call it simple justice. Those criminals need staightening out. But how shall we do it?’

  ‘I can help, master. I can fight now. I was afraid, then I got angry and I used the axe. I am ready to be a warrior like you.’

  I shook my head at him. I was thinking more clearly now. ‘This is no job for a farmer with a future. But you must always remember that you faced your fear and won. That will do you well for the rest of your life. But Jim diGriz pays his debts – so you are going back to the farm. How many groats does a farm cost?’

  He gaped at that one and shuffled through his memory. ‘I never bought a farm.’

  ‘I’m sure of that. But somebody must have that you know.’

  ‘Old Kvetchy came back from the wars and paid Widow Roslair two hundred and twelve groats for her share of her farm.’

  ‘Great. Allowing for inflation, five hundred should see you clear. Stick with me kid and you’ll be wearing ploughshares. Now get to the kitchen and pack up some food while I put part one of the plan into operation.’

  It was like a chess game that you played in your head. I could see the opening moves quite clearly, all laid out. If they were played correctly, middle game and endgame would follow with an inevitable win. I made the first move.

  Capo Dimonte was slumped on his throne, red-eyed and as tired as the rest of us, a flagon of wine in his hand. I pushed through his officers and stood before him. He scowled at me and flapped his hand.

  ‘Away, soldier. You’ll get your bonus. You did your work well today, I saw that. But leave us, I have plans to make …’

  ‘That is why I am here, Capo. To tell you how to defeat Capo Doccia. I was in his service and know his secrets.’

  ‘Speak!’

  ‘In private. Send the others away.’

  He considered a moment – then waved his hands. They left, grumbling, and he sipped his wine until the door slammed shut.

  ‘What do you know?’ he ordered. ‘Speak quickly for I am in a foul humour.’

  ‘As are we all. What I wanted to tell you in private does not concern Doccia – yet. You will attack, I am sure of that. But in order to assure success I am going to enlist Capo Dinobli and his secrets on your side. Wouldn’t the attack be better if they were all asleep when we came over the wall?’

  ‘Dinobli knows no more of these matters than I do – so don’t lie to me. He is tottering and has been bedridden for a year.’

  ‘I know that,’ I lied with conviction. ‘But those who use his keep for their own ends, who cause the Black Monks to make war on them, these are the ones who will help you.’

  He sat up at this and there was more than a glint of the old schemer in his eyes. ‘Go to them then. Promise them a share of the spoils – and you will share as well if you can do this. Go in my name and promise what you will. Before this month is out Doccia’s head will be roasting on a spit over my fire, his body will be torn by red hot spikes and …’

  There was more like this but I wasn’t too interested. This was a pawn move in the opening. I now had to bring a major piece forward to the attack. I bowed myself out, leaving him muttering on the throne, splashing wine around as he waved his arms. These people had very quick tempers.

  Dreng had packed our few belongings and we left at once. I led the way until we were well clear of the keep, then turned off towards a stream that ran close by. It had a grassy field at its bank and I pointed towards it.

  ‘We stay here until morning. I have plans to make and we need the rest. I want to be sharp when I knock on old Dinobli’s door.’

  With a night’s rest to refresh my brain everything became quite clear. ‘Dreng,’ I said, ‘this will have to be a one-man operation. I don’t know what kind of reception I will get and I may be busy enough worrying about myself, without having you to care for. Back to the keep and wait for me.’

  There was really no door to knock on, just two heavily-armed guards at the gate. I came down through the field, past the mounds of junked machines already smeared with a red patina of rust, and crossed the drawbridge. I stopped before I reached the guards and carefully kept my gun lowered.

  ‘I have an important message for the one in charge here.’

  ‘Turn about and quick march,’ the taller guard said, pointing his gun at me. ‘Capo Dinobli sees no one.’

  ‘It’s not the Capo I care about,’ I said, looking past him into the courtyard. A tall man in rough clothes was passing. But beneath the ragged cuffs of his trousers I saw the gleam of plasteel boots.

  ‘I wish the Capo only good health,’ I called out loudly. ‘So I hope that he is seeing a good gerontologist and takes his synapsilstims regularly.’

  The guard growled in puzzlement at this – but my words were not for his edification. The man I was looking at in the courtyard stopped suddenly, still. Then slowly turned about. I saw keen blue eyes in a long face. Staring at me in silence. Then he came forward and talked to the guard – though still looking at me.

  ‘What is the disturbance?’


  ‘Nothing, your honour. Just sending this one on his way.’

  ‘Let him in. I want to question him.’

  The pointed gun was raised in salute and I marched through the gate. When we were out of earshot of the gate the tall man turned to face me, looking me up and down with frank curiosity.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘I want to talk with you in private.’ He did not speak until we were in the keep and inside a room with the door closed behind us.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘You know – I was about to ask you the very same question. Does the League know what you are doing here?’

  ‘Of course they do! This is a legitimate …’ He caught himself, then smiled. ‘At least that proves you’re from offplanet. No one can think that fast here – or knows what you know. Here, sit, then tell me who you are. After that I will judge how much I can tell you of our work.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said, dropping into the chair and laying my gun on the floor. ‘My name is Jim. I was a crewman on a Venian freighter – until I got into difficulties with the captain. He dumped me on this planet. That is all there is to it.’

  He pulled up a pad and began to make notes. ‘Your name is Jim. Your last name is … ?’ I was silent. He scowled. ‘All right, let that go for the moment. What is the captain’s name?’

  ‘I think that I will save that information for later. After you have told me who you are.’

  He pushed the pad aside and sat back in his chair. ‘I’m not satisfied. Without your identity I can tell you nothing. Where do you come from on Venia? What is the capital city of your planet, the name of the chairman of the global consul?’

  ‘It’s been a long time, I forget.’

  ‘You are lying. You are no more Venian than I am. Until I know more …’

  ‘What exactly do you have to know? I am a citizen of the League, not one of the dismal natives here. I watch tri-D, eat at Macswineys – a branch on every known world, forty-two billion sold – I studied molecular electronics, and have a Black Belt in Judo. Does that satisfy you?’

  ‘Perhaps. But you told me that you were dumped on this planet from a Venian freighter, which cannot be true. All unapproved contact with Spiovente is forbidden.’

  ‘My contact was unapproved. The ship was smuggling in guns like this one.’

  That got his attention all right. He grabbed the pad. ‘The captain’s name is … ?’

  I shook my head in a silent no. ‘You’ll have that information only if you arrange to get me off this planet. You can do that because you as much as told me you were here with League approval. So let us do a little trading. You arrange for my ticket – I have plenty of silver groats to pay for it.’ Or I would have, which was the same thing. ‘You will also give me some small help in a local matter – then I’ll tell you the captain’s name.’

  He didn’t like this. He thought hard and wriggled on the hook, but could not get off it.

  ‘While you are making your mind up,’ I said, ‘you might tell me who you are and what you are doing here?’

  ‘You must promise not to reveal our identity to the natives. Our presence is well-known offplanet, but we can only succeed here if our operation remains covert.’

  ‘I promise, I promise. I owe nothing to any of the locals.’

  He steepled his fingers and leaned back as though beginning a lecture. I had guessed right – as his first words revealed.

  ‘I am Professor Lustig of the University of Ellenbogen where I hold the chair of applied socioeconomics. I am head of my department and I must say that I founded the department since applied socioeconomics is a fairly new discipline, an outgrowth, obviously, of theoretical socioeconomics …’

  I blinked rapidly to keep my eyes from glazing over and forced myself to keep listening. It was teachers like Lustig who made me run away from school.

  ‘Very good. Yours sounds a fine plan and I wish you the best of luck. But I have a few things to do myself before I leave this sinkhole. To help you in your task of breaking the technological Monopoly I would like to purchase some of your sleeping gas.’

  ‘Impossible. In fact it is impossible for us to aid you in any way. Nor are you leaving here. I’ve signalled for the guards. You will be held until the next League ship arrives. You know far too much about our operation to be permitted your freedom.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Even as this unacceptable bit of information was sinking into my brain my body was launched across the desk. He should have remembered the bit about the Black Belt. My thumbs bit deep and he slumped. Even before his head bounced off the desk I had bounced off the floor and dived for the door. And none too soon – as I pushed the locking bolt home I saw that the handle above it was starting to turn.

  ‘Now Jim, move fast,’ I advised myself, ‘before the alarm is spread. But first let me see what this two-faced academic has in his possession that may be of use.’

  There were files, papers and books in the desk, nothing that would be of any value to me now. I sprayed it all about me on the floor as the banging started on the door. I didn’t have much time. Next the prof. I tore his cloak open and ransacked his pockets. There was even less of interest here – other than a ring of keys. I shoved them into my own pocket, they would have to do for loot. Seizing up the gun I dived for the window just as something heavy hit the door with a shuddering thud. Two storeys up and the courtyard below was paved with evil-looking cobblestones. I would break my legs if I jumped. I leaned out and was grateful for the second-rate Spiovente masons. There were large gaps between the stones of the outer wall. The door crashed and splintered as I climbed out of the window, thrust the gun through my belt in the small of my back – and began to climb down.

  It was easy enough. I jumped the last bit, did a shoulder roll which jammed the gun painfully into my spine, retrieved it and stumbled around the corner of the building before anyone appeared in the window above. I was free!

  Or was I? Instant gloom descended. Free in the middle of the enemy keep with all men’s hands turned against me. Some big free.

  ‘Yes, free!’ I ground my teeth together arrogantly, braced my shoulders and put a bold swagger into my walk. ‘Free as only a Stainless Steel Rat can be free! Just press on Jim – and see if you can’t find some locks to go with those keys in your pocket.’

  I always get the best advice from myself. I marched on through an archway that led into the large courtyard. There were armed men lolling about here and they completely ignored me. That wouldn’t last long. As soon as the alarm was raised they would all be after my hide. Eyes straight ahead I walked towards a massive building on the far side. It had a single large gate set into the wall, with a smaller one next to it. As I came closer I saw that both had very modern locks set into them. Very informative. I was most interested in what was locked away here. Now all I had to do was find the right key.

  Trying to look as though I belonged here I stopped before the smaller door and flipped through the keys. There must have been twenty of them. But the lock was a Bolger, that was obvious to my trained eye, so I fingered through them looking for the familiar diamond shape.

  ‘Hey, you, what you doing there?’

  He was a big thug, dirty and unshaven and red of eye. He also had a long dagger thrust through his belt, the hilt of which he was tapping with his fingers.

  ‘Unlocking this door, obviously,’ was my firm response. ‘Are you the one they sent to help me? Here, take this.’

  I handed him my gun. This bought me a number of seconds as he looked at the weapon, enough time for me to push one key into the lock. It didn’t turn.

  ‘No one sent me,’ he said, examining the gun, which distracted him nicely for a few seconds more. I couldn’t be doing anything wrong if I had given him my only weapon, could I? I could almost see him thinking, slowly, moving his lips as he did. I interrupted the turgid flow of his thoughts.

  ‘Well, since you are here you can help me …’

  Ahh, t
he next key did the job, turning sweetly. The door opened and I turned about just as sweetly with my fingers pointed to jab. I caught the gun as he slid to the ground.

  ‘Hey, you, stop!’

  I ignored this rude command since I had not the slightest desire to see who was calling, but slipped through the door instead and slammed it shut behind me. Turned and looked around and felt a sharp pang of despair. There was no hope here. I was in an enormous chamber, badly lit by slits high in the wall. It was a garage for the steam cars. Five of them, lined up in a neat row.

  It would be fine to escape in one of these, really wonderful. I had watched them in operation. First the fire had to be lit, then wood pushed in, steam raised. This usually took at least an hour. At that point, say I could manage do all this undisturbed, I had to open the door and clank to freedom at a slow walking pace. No way!

  Or was there a way? As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I realised that these weren’t the same kind of steamcars I had seen before – with their wooden wheels and iron tyres. These had soft tyres of some kind! Improved technology? Could it be offplanet technology disguised as antique wrecks?

  I hurried over to the closest one and climbed up to the operator’s seat. There were the familiar big control levers and wheels – but invisible from the ground was a padded driver’s seat and familiar groundcar controls. This was more like it!

  Slipping my gun under the seat I slipped myself into it. A safety-belt hung there, wise precaution, but not at the moment. I pushed it aside as I leaned forward to examine the controls. Motor switch, gear selector, speedometer – as well as some unfamiliar dials and controls. A banging on the door convinced me I should make a detailed study later. I reached out and turned on the motor. Nothing happened.

  Or rather something totally unexpected happened. The motor didn’t start but a girl’s voice did, speaking in my ear.

  ‘Do not attempt to start this vehicle without wearing your seatbelt.’