The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection

by Harry Harrison

  “This is the one you are taking,” Bibs said.

  “Does he speak Esperanto?”

  “Like a native,” I said.

  “Give me the money now.” He held out his hand.

  “No. You’ll just leave him behind. Ploveci will give it to you after you land.”

  “Let me see it then.” He turned his beady eye on me and I realized that I was Ploveci. I took out the leather bag, spread the coins out on my hands, then put them back into the bag. Grbonja grunted what I assumed was a sign of assent. I felt a breeze on my neck and wheeled about.

  The gate was just closing. Bibs was gone.

  “You can sleep here,” he said pointing to a heap of tumbled sacks against the wall. “We load and leave at dawn.”

  When he left he took the lamp with him. I looked into the darkness, toward the closed gate.

  I had little choice in the matter. I sat on the sacks with my back to the wall, the club across my legs and thought about what I was doing, what I had done, what we had done, what I was going to do, and about the conflicting emotions that washed back and forth through my body. This was apparently too much thinking because the next thing I knew I was blinking at the sunlight coming through the opening door, my face buried in the sacks and my club beside me on the floor. I scrambled up, felt for the money—still there—and was just about ready for what the day would bring. Yawning and stretching the stiffness from my muscles. Reluctantly.

  The large door was pulled wider and I saw now that it opened onto a wharf with the fog-covered ocean beyond. A sizable sailing vessel was tied up there and Grbonja was coming down the gangway from the deck.

  “Ploveci, help them load,” he ordered and passed on.

  A scruffy gang of laborers followed him into the warehouse and seized up filled sacks from the pile closest to the door. I couldn’t understand a word they said, nor did I need to. The work was hot, boring, and exhausting, and consisted simply of humping a sack from the warehouse to the ship, then returning for another. There was some pungent vegetable in the sacks that soon had my eyes running and itching. I was the only one who seemed to mind. There was no nonsense about breaks either. We carried the sacks until the ship was full, and only then did we drop down in the shade and dip into a bucket of weak beer. It had foul wooden cups secured to it by thongs and after a single, fleeting moment of delicacy I seized one up, filled and emptied it, filled and drank from it once again.

  Grbonja reappeared, as soon as the work was done, and gurgled what were obviously orders. The longshoremen became sailors, pulled in the gangplank, let go the lines and ran up the sail. I stood to one side and fondled my club until Grbonja ordered me into the cabin and out of sight. He joined me there a few moments later.

  “I’ll take the money now,” he said.

  “Not quite yet, grandpop. You get it when I am safely ashore, as agreed.”

  “They must not see me take it!”

  “Fear not. Just stand close to the top of the gangplank and I will stumble against you. When I’m gone you will find the bag tucked into your belt. Now tell me what I will find when I get ashore.”

  “Trouble!” he wailed and raked his fingers through his beard. “I should never have gotten involved. They will catch you, kill you, me too …”

  “Relax, look at this.” I held the money bag in the beam of light from the grating above and let the coins trickle between my fingers. “A happy retirement, a place in the country, a barrel of beer and a plate of porkchops every day, think of all the joys this will bring.”

  He thought and the sight of the clinking coins had great calming affect. When his fingers had stopped shaking I gave him a handful of money which he clutched happily.

  “There. A downpayment to show that we are friends. Now think about this—the more I know about what I will find when I get ashore the easier it will be for me to get away. You won’t be involved. Now … speak.”

  “I know little,” he mumbled, most of his attention on the shining coins. “There are the docks, the market behind. All surrounded by a high wall. I have never been past the wall.”

  “Are there gates?”

  “Yes, large ones, but they are guarded.” “Is the market very large?”

  “Gigantic. It is the center of trade for the entire country. It stretches for many myldyryow along the coast.”

  “How big is a myldyryow?”

  “Myldyr, myldyryow is plural. One of them is seven hundred lathow”

  “Thanks. I’ll just have to see for myself.”

  Grbonja, with much grunting and gasping, threw open a hatch in the deck and vanished below, undoubtedly to hide the coins I had given him. I realized then that I had had enough of the cabin so I went out on deck, up to the bow where I would not be under foot. The sun was burning off the morning haze and I saw that we were passing close to an immense tower that rose up from the water. It was scarred, ancient, certainly centuries old. They had built well in those days. The mist lifted and revealed more and more of the structure, stretching up out of sight. I had to lean back to see the top, high, high above.

  With the remains of the fractured bridge hanging from it. The once-suspended roadway hung crumpled and broken, dipping down into the ocean close by. Rusted, twisted, heaped with the broken supporting cables which were over two meters thick. I wondered what catastrophe had brought it down.

  Or had it been deliberate? Had the rulers of Nevenkebla destroyed it to cut themselves free from the continent that was slowly sinking back into barbarism? A good possibility. And if they had done this they showed a firmness of mind that made my penetration of their island that much more difficult.

  Before I could worry about this a more immediate threat presented itself. A lean, gray ship bristling with guns came thundering up from ahead. It cut across our bow and turned sharply around our stern; our sailing ship bobbed in its wake and the sails flapped. I emulated the sailors and tried to ignore the deadly presence, the pointed weapons that could blow us out of the water in an instant. We were here on legitimate business—weren’t we?

  The gunboat’s commander must have believed this as well because, with an insulting blare on their horn, the vessel changed course again and blasted away across the sea. When the ship had dwindled into the distance one of the sailors shook his fist after them and said something bitter and incomprehensible that I agreed with completely.

  Nevenkebla rose out of the mists ahead. Cliffs and green hills backing an immense, storied city that rose up from a circular harbor. Factories and mineheads beyond, plumes of smoke from industry already busy in the early morning. And forts at the water’s edge, great guns gleaming. Another fort at the end of the seawall as we entered the harbor. I could feel the glare of suspicious eyes behind the gunsights as the black mouths of the barrels followed us as we passed. These guys were not kidding.

  And I was going to tackle this entire country single-handed?

  “Sure you are, Jim,” I said aloud with great braggadocio, swinging my club so that it whistled in tight arcs. “You’ll show them. They don’t stand a chance against fighting Jimmy diGriz.”

  Which would have been fine if my voice had not cracked as I said it.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Down sails,” an amplified voice roared. “Take our line aboard.” A high-prowed tug came chuntering up with its loudhailer bellowing. Grbonja swiftly translated the commands to the crew.

  Nothing was left to chance in Nevenkebla: all matters were highly organized. Even before the sail was down we were secured safely to the tug and being towed to our berth at the crowded wharfside. Sailing craft of interesting variety and form were already unloading cargo there. We were moved into a vacant berth among the others.

  “They come long ways,” Grbonja wheezed, stumbling up beside me, pointing at the other ships. “From Penpilick, Grampound, even Praze-an-Beeble—may everyone there suffer from a lifetime of dysesya! Tie up outside harbor at night. You give me the money now, too dangerous on shore!”

&n
bsp; “A deal’s a deal, grandpop. Too late to back out now.”

  He sweated and muttered and looked at the land coming close. “I go ahead first, talk to freightmaster. Only then we unload. They take your papers and give you dock badge. After that you will see me. Give me the money.”

  “No sweat. Just keep your mind on the sunny future of happy retirement.”

  Two armed guards glowered down at us as we tied up. A steam winch dropped the gangway into place and Grbonja puffed up the incline and onto the dock. To turn me in? Maybe I should have paid him in advance? My heart gave a few quick thuds as it shifted into worry mode.

  In a few minutes—or was it centuries?—Grbonja had returned and was shouting instructions at the crew. I left my club in the cabin and put the dagger inside my shirt where it couldn’t be seen. My lockpick and remaining coins were in a pouch inside my shirt as well. I was ready as I was ever going to be. When I came out of the cabin the sailors were already starting to unload. I picked up a bag and followed the others up the gangway. Each of them held out his identity papers: I did the same. As they reached the dock the officer there took each man’s papers and stuffed them into a box. Then pinned an identification tag to the man’s clothes. He looked bored by the job. I tried not to tremble as I came up to him.

  It was just routine. “Next,” he called out, whipped the papers from my hand and pinned the tag to my chest. Or rather pinned it through the fabric into my skin. I jumped but kept my mouth shut. He grinned, with a touch of sadism in the turn of his mouth, and pushed me on.

  “Keep moving, lunkhead. Next.”

  I was safely ashore and undetected. Following the bent back of the man ahead of me into the dark warehouse. Grbonja was standing by the growing pile of sacks. When he saw me he called out an incomprehensible instruction and pointed to the next bay.

  “The money, now,” he burbled as I dumped the sack. I slipped it to him and he staggered away muttering with relief. I looked around at the solid cement and steel walls and went back for another sack.

  By the time I had carried in my third sack I was getting desperate. After a few more trips the ship would be unloaded and that would be the end of that. I would have had an expensive round trip and done some hard work. Nothing more. Because I could see no way out of the building—and no place to hide within it. They obviously did not relish uninvited visitors to Nevenkebla. I needed more time.

  “Call a beer break,” I whispered to Grbonja as I passed him at the head of the gangway. The checker-inner had gone but the two unsmiling guards still stood watch.

  “We never stop—it is not the custom.”

  “It is today. It’s a hot day. You don’t want me to tell them you were hired to smuggle me here?”

  He groaned aloud, then called out. “Beer, we stop for beer!”

  The crew asked no questions at this unexpected treat, only chattered together with pleasure as they gathered round the barrel. I had a good slug of the stuff then went and sat on the gunwhale beside the gangway. Looked up at the boots of the guard who stood above me. Looked down at the water and saw the space between the pilings there.

  My only chance. The guard above me moved out of sight. Grbonja had his back turned while the sailors had their attention focused on the barrel. A difference of opinion over the rationing appeared to break out. There were angry shouts and a quick blow. The crew watched these proceedings with great interest. No one was visible on the dock above.

  I dropped a length of line over the side, swung my legs over and climbed down it. No one saw me go. With my legs in the sea I used my dagger to cut the line above my head and dropped silently into the water. With noiseless strokes I swam into the darkness under the pier.

  Slime-covered boards connected the wooden piles. When I reached for one of them something squealed and vanished in the darkness. And it stank down here. Nameless rubbish bobbed in the water around me. I was beginning to regret my impetuous swim.

  “Chin up, Jim, and move along. This is the first place they look when they find out you are missing.”

  I swam. Not far, for there was a solid wall here that ran back into the darkness. I groped along it until I reached the outer piles again. Through the openings between them I saw the hull of another sailing ship, tied close. There was no room to pass between the planks of the ship and the piles. Trapped so soon?!

  “This is your day for panic,” I whispered aloud, the sound of my voice covered by the slapping of the waves. “You can’t go back, so carry on you must. The hull of this ship has to curve away. Just dive down and swim along it until you find another opening between the piles.”

  Ho-ho. Sounded very easy to do. I kicked my boots off and breathed deep. But my trepidation grew with each shuddering breath that I drew in. When my head was swimming with oxygen intoxication I let out the last lungful and dived.

  It was a long, dark and apparently endless swim. I ran my left hand along the ship’s hull to guide me. Collecting some heroic splinters at the same time. On and on with no glimmer of light in front or above. This must be a very big ship. There was fire in my lungs and desperation in my swimming before I saw light ahead. I came up as quietly as I could by the ship’s bow. Trying not to gasp as I exhaled and drew in life and fresh air.

  Looking up at a sailor standing on the rail above, turning towards me.

  I sank out of sight again, forcing myself deep under the water, swimming on with my lungs crying out for air, until I saw the black bulk of the next ship ahead of me, forcing myself to swim on to the last glimmer of light before floating up the surface again.

  Catching my head nicely between hull and piling, to fight down the rising panic as I fought to free myself—getting some splinters in my scalp this time. My groping fingers found a gap between the pilings so I surfaced there, hung on, sucked in lungful after lungful of the stinking fug, enjoying it more than the freshest air I had ever breathed.

  This was the beginning of a very long and very tiring day. I did not keep track of the number of ships I passed, but it was a lot. At first I searched under the various docks but soon gave that up since they were all the same, each firmly separated by an underwater wall from the next. Some of the ships had finished unloading and had left, for I came to gaps in the continuous wall of vessels. All I could do when this happened was to breath deep, dive deep—and swim like crazy to reach the next ship before my breath ran out.

  It was afternoon before I reached the last ship and the end of the docks. The tide was ebbing, the vessels were now down below the dock level so there was more concealment from above. I was very tired but very proficent by this time. One more time I breathed deep, dove down at the bow, swam the length of the hull and surfaced in the shadow of the rudder.

  To look at a solid wall of jointed stone stretching out before me.

  Holding onto the rudder, my eyes just above the surface, I peered around it. And realized that I was looking at the harbor wall that stretched unbroken out to the fort built at its far end. I drew back into the shadow of the rudder and found that my heart was sinking so fast it was pulling me under the water.

  “Any bright ideas, Jim?” I asked, then found that I was waiting a long time for an answer.

  Think, don’t despair I ordered myself. I still felt despair. Could I go back? No, that was out. After all I had gone through today I was not going to surrender that easily. Hide under one of the docks? Possibly. But they would be thoroughly searched as soon as I was missed, I was certain of that. What else? Climb up onto the dock? No way. The warehouses here were sure to be as barren of hiding places as the one I had left. Then what?

  “Turn the problem on its head, that’s what The Bishop had always said.”

  What would that be in this situation? I was trying to get away from the soldiers, fleeing them, knowing they would be looking for me. So I should go to them. But that would be suicide. But where could I possibly go that would be totally unexpected?

  Why, the fort on the end of the harbor wall of course.


  “Without a doubt the most insane idea you have ever had,” I muttered in disgust, peering around the rudder again. Above me there were shouted oaths from the sailors and the thud of feet on planking. I had the feeling that this ship would be leaving soon as well, taking my protection with it. The solid stone blocks of the jetty stretched unbroken to the fort at the end. Some debris washed against the stone and sea birds fought over the edible bits. Other than that—nothing. No cover at all. If I tried to swim out there I would be seen at once by anyone who glanced that way. Above me tackle creaked as the sail was lifted; the ship was getting under way.

  I had to get clear of it—or did I? No tug had appeared. Was it possible the ships were only towed into harbor? That they permitted them to sail out on their own? It was. I peered around the rudder again and saw two of the cargo vessels standing out toward the entrance. Light poured down from the growing gap above me and I sank under the surface before I could be seen.

  It was not easy—but it could be done. I held tight to the rudder as it came over, almost pulling itself out of my hands. I stayed under the surface as long as I could so I would not be seen from the shore. The sailing ship was moving along smoothly and it took all my strength to shift my grip from the front to the back of the rudder. Holding on was easier now. When I finally was forced to lift my face up to breathe I found myself in a rush of foam, inhaled some and fought not to cough. As we drew away from the dockside I saw an armed guard there. His back turned with indifference.

  It was almost easy after that. The rush of the waves held me against the rudder post. I breathed easily with my head out of the water, unseen from the shore and invisible to anyone on the deck above. We tacked twice and each time I changed sides to keep the rudder between me and the fort that was now growing larger and larger ahead. When we went about for the last time I saw that this tack would take us close to the fort and past it on into the open ocean. I watched as the stone wall came closer and closer until I could see the sea beyond the end of it. Only then did I take a last breath, let go and dive deep.