The Stainless Steel Rat eBook Collection

by Harry Harrison

  “Admiral—” Steengo said, then broke off.

  “Let us do keep it on a first-name basis. And your first name is Admiral. Others?”

  “Floyd,” said Floyd.

  “And a great pleasure to meet you all. How may I help?”

  “An item, referred to as the artifact, was recently brought to the science building. Do you know about it?”

  “Indeed I do. I was studying it, so am therefore quite familiar with the strange construction. In fact I had it under observation at the time of the explosion.”

  “Did you see what happened to it?”

  “Taking the literal meaning of see, dear Jim, forces me to answer that question in the negative. I had no photo pickups operating at the time so I did not physically see what happened to it. The only information I had was the direction that it left in. That was thirty-two degrees to the right of the zero north-polar latitude.”

  “There is nothing at all out there in that direction,” Steengo said. “No settlements, no nomadic tribes. Nothing but empty plains right up the polar cap. How do you know that the artifact was taken that way?”

  “I know that, mon Amiral, because this artifact emits tachyons and I was observing it with a tachyometer. Keeping count, so to speak, and most interesting it was too. It did not emit many—after all, what source does?—but a few are much better than none. Let the record show that it emitted one tachyon, from the direction I have given you, just microseconds before the explosion that destroyed the equipment I was using.”

  “You weren’t—injured?” Madonette said.

  “How sweet of you to ask! I wasn’t, because I wasn’t there. As soon as I could I constructed a new tachyometer, conveyed it to the site of the explosion with, unhappily, no results. Now there is just background radiation.”

  “Do you know what caused the explosion?”

  “Welcome to this easy give-and-take of social intercourse, friend Floyd. To answer your question—I do. It was a very powerful explosive. I can give you the chemical formula but I am sure that you would find that immensely boring. But I can tell you that this explosive was manufactured quite widely for the mining industry at one time. It is named ausbrechitite.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Understandable, Admiral, since it was found to grow unstable with the passage of time. Manufacturing was phased out and ausbrechitite was replaced by newer and more stable explosives.”

  “When was this?” I asked.

  “A bit over three centuries ago. Would you like the exact date?”

  “That will do fine.”

  We blinked at each other in silence. Not knowing what to do with this weird historical-scientific evidence. Only Madonette had the brains to ask the right question.

  “Aida—do you have any theories about what happened?”

  “Simply thousands my dear. But there is no point in telling you about them until I gather some more evidence. Right now you might say that we are in the early moves of a chess game with millions of possibilities for the rest of the game. But I can give you some figures. Chances of an accidental explosion; zero. Chances that the explosion was tied in with the theft; sixty-seven percent. What happens next depends upon you.”

  “How?”

  “Consider reality. You are mobile, cher Jim while I am, so to speak, tied down to the job. I can give advice, and accompany you in transceiver form when you leave here. But what happens next—that decision is up to you.”

  “What decision?” Aida could be exasperating at times.

  “I will supply a new tachyometer. If you take it in the direction I have indicated you might be able to track the artifact in this manner.”

  “Thanks,” I said and reached out and turned Aida off. “Looks like us humans have to come to a decision. Who follows the trail? Let us not all speak at once but let me speak first because I am top rat. I have the feeling that it is now time to thin our ranks. I say that Madonette does not go any further. We needed her for the music—and wonderful she was too!—but not for crawling around looking for nutcases planting century-old bombs.”

  “I second Jim’s motion,” Admiral Steengo said.

  “I third it,” Floyd said quickly as Madonette tried to speak. “This is really not your kind of job. Nor is it Steengo’s either.”

  “Isn’t that for me to decide?” Steengo snarled in his best admiralish mode.

  “No,” I suggested. “If you wish to be of assistance, you can really help us by organizing the base operation from here. I declare that the motion has been seconded and passed above all objections. This is only a democracy when it suits me.”

  Steengo smiled and the admiral’s scowl vanished; he was too smart to argue. “I agree. I am well past my sell-by date for fieldwork. My aching bones tell me that. Please, Madonette, give in graciously to the thrust of history. Are you nodding—albeit reluctantly? Good. Above and beyond any aid given by Aida, I will see to it that the Special Corps will supply any equipment needed. Questions?” He glowered around in a circle but we were silent. He nodded with satisfaction and Madonette raised her hand.

  “With that decision out of the way—may I pass on a request? In conversation I have discovered that everyone here is a true musical Rat fan so …”

  “Could we do one last gig before the group breaks up? You betcha. All in agreement.”

  There was a rousing cheer from all except Steengo who looked unhappy at the thought of all of his instruments reduced to a pile of particles. But Madonette, ever resourceful, had done a bit of work before she mentioned the gig.

  “I’ve asked around among the girls. They tell me that there is a really nice chamber group here, as well as a symphony orchestra—they must have at least one instrument Steengo can play.”

  “Any of them, all of them—just unleash me!” he said and now it was smiles and cheers all around.

  Due to the miracles of modern medicines, curing and healing drugs, pain-killers and a large shot of booze for Steengo, we were ready to do our performance later this same day. A matinee, since night here was still a couple of our days away and not worth waiting for.

  There was quite a turnout at the sports stadium. Cheers and shouts of joy greeted us and no one seemed to mind that Steengo was not only out of costume but playing from a wheelchair. If this was to be the last curtain for The Stainless Steel Rats we meant to make it a performance to remember. Leaving the more militaristic and macho songs aside for the moment we launched into a mellow blues number.

  Blue world—

  Hear me singing my song.

  Blue world—

  What’s it I done wrong?

  Blue world—

  You gonna help me along

  Blue wor-r-r-ld.

  Here we are—

  We ain’t goin’ away.

  Here we are—

  On this planet to stay.

  Blue wor-r-r-ld.

  Landing was easy,

  Plenty of fun.

  Down came our rocket—

  ‘Neath the blue sun.

  Landing was great—

  Everything swell.

  Now it’s all over,

  Living is hell,

  Down here at the bottom of the gravity well.

  We did many an encore this day. Finished finally with the feeling of exhaustion and happiness that only comes with an artistic job well done. Sleep came easily but, unable to resist, I took one last peek at the days remaining before closing my eyes.

  Still seven. Still a week. Plenty of time for my good buddy Admiral Steengo to kick butt and come up with the antidote. I think I was smiling when I closed my eyes which, when you think about it, was quite a change from the preceding twenty-seven days. Yes it was.

  Then why wasn’t I going to sleep? Instead of lying there tensely staring into the darkness. An easy answer.

  Until the happy moment when I pulled back the plunger and shot up with the antidote I had only seven days to live.

  Nighty-night, Jim. Sleep well �
�

  CHAPTER 22

  Either I was a slugabed or the admiral, released from his role as a musician, was a workaholic. Or both. Because by the time I had appeared he had single-handedly organized our expedition down to the last detail. He was muttering over the heap of apparatus as he punched the checklist into his handheld. He glanced up, waved vaguely, then finished off the last items.

  “This is your new backpack. It contains a number of items you will probably need—and here’s a printout of what’s inside it. I assume that you have a good deal of illegal and possibly deadly items in your old pack which you can transfer after I leave. Aida is assembling another tachyometer and I’m going to get it now. Floyd will join you shortly—and here is Madonette, welcome, welcome.”

  Steengo made as graceful an exit as he could on crutches. Madonette, a picture of good cheer, swept in and took both of my hands in hers. Then discovered that this wasn’t an enthusiastic enough greeting so she kissed me warmly on my cheek. My arms embraced her in automatic response, but closed on empty air since she had already whirled away and dropped onto the couch.

  “I wish that I were coming with you, Jim—but I know that it’s impossible. Still, I’m not looking forward to getting back to the stuffy old office.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” I said. Meaning it to be a calm statement but listening to myself in horror as it came out all dewy-eyed and smarmy. “All of us will miss you, of course.”

  “Same here. There were some hairy moments—but you took care of everything, didn’t you?” The warmth and appreciation were such that I could feel myself blushing. “All in all I think it was an experience of a lifetime. And I am definitely not going back to all those files and staff meetings and sealed windows. It’s field work from now on. Out in the fresh air! Isn’t that a good idea?”

  “Wonderful, yes indeed,” I said, missing her already. I don’t know where all this might have ended if Floyd hadn’t made a disgustingly cheerful entrance.

  “Morning all. Good day for the expedition. Hi and unhappily good-by Madonette, companion of many an adventure. It has been fun working with you.”

  “Could you teach me unarmed defense?”

  “My pleasure. Easy enough if you work at it.”

  “Then I could train to be a field agent?”

  “Probably not. But I’ll sure look into it.”

  “Would you! I’d be ever grateful. I was telling Jim that I don’t want to work in an office anymore.”

  “Nor should you! A girl with your talents can find much better occupation.”

  They smiled at each other from opposite ends of the couch, knees almost touching, wrapped up in each other. I was forgotten. I hated Floyd’s guts. Was more than happy to hear the thud of crutches and the dragging footsteps approaching.

  “All here,” Steengo said. “Very good. The tachyometer is ready.”

  The thing that was following him now trotted forward. Walking, stiff-legged, was the ugliest fake dog that I had ever seen in my life. It was covered in black artificial fur with hand-fuls missing, had beady black eyes like buttons, stuck out a dry red tongue as it barked.

  “Bow-wow.”

  “What do you mean ‘bow-wow’?” I gasped aloud. “What is this repulsive object?”

  “The tachyometer,” Admiral Steengo said.

  “Bow-wow,” it barked again. “And for convenience sake the tachyometer is mounted within this mobile terminal.”

  “Aida?” I said.

  “None other. Do you like this disguise?”

  “I have never seen a more artificial artificial dog in my life!”

  “Well don’t get too insulting about it. Fido is state of the art—and that is modern art if you are thinking something nasty. For one thing the dear little doggy communicates with me by gravimetric waves which, as I am sure you know, cannot be blocked like radio waves. They penetrate the most solid buildings, cut through the most gigantic mountain ranges. So we are always in communication, always in touch. Admittedly Fido here has seen better days. But you know what they say about beggars?”

  “I do. But we’re choosers without being beggars and I choose a better mobile terminal.”

  “Your choice, handsome. Give me two days and you can have whatever you want.”

  Two days? And I had like maybe six and a half to live unless the antidote arrived. I took a deep breath and whistled.

  “Here Fido. Nice doggie. Let’s go walkies.”

  “Bow-wow,” it said and began to pant most artificially.

  “This is the plan,” Admiral Steengo said. “I will monitor this operation from the orbiting spacer along with Captain Tremearne. Jim and Floyd will head north in the direction taken by the missing artifact. Aida will be in contact with this terminal, that will also be searching for a tachyon emission source.” He appeared to run out of words and rubbed his jaw.

  “A nice plan,” I said, but I could not keep a certain tone of derision out of my voice. “Cooked down to essentials it means that we just trot north until something happens.”

  “A satisfactory interpretation. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. And you will keep the other and most pressing matter of a certain injection on the top of your agenda?”

  “I shall query the people involved hourly on the hour,” he said grimly—and I think he meant it.

  We filled our packs, kept the good-bys as brief as possible, loaded up and followed Fido out without a backward glance. I liked Madonette. Perhaps too much while I was on an assignment like this. Go, Jim, go I cozened. Follow your wandering tachyon.

  We followed the flapping black nylon tail through the streets and onward to the outlying farms. The women we met waved happily, some even whistling bits of our tunes to cheer us on the way. The last farm fell behind us and the open plains opened out ahead. I clacked my jaw-radio.

  “Are you there, Tremearne?”

  “Listening in.”

  “Any tribes of nomads around—or up ahead?”

  “Negative”

  “Any buildings, farms, people, sheots—anything visible on this heading?”

  “Negative. We’ve done a detailed scan as far north as the polar ice. Nothing.”

  “Thanks. Over and out.” Wonderful.

  “Empty on all sides, nothing at all ahead,” I reported to Floyd. “So we just stay on this heading until our plastic retriever detects any tachyons—or we reach the north pole and freeze to death.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s a tachyon?”

  “Good question. Up until now I thought it was just a theoretical unit that the physicists dreamed up in order to explain how the universe works. One of the subatomic entities that exist either as waves or particles. Until they are observed they have no real existence. It has been said, and who am I to doubt it, that they exist in a probabilities limbo of many possible superimposed states.” I noticed that Floyd’s jaw was beginning to drop, his eyes to glaze. He shook his head.

  “You are going to have to try harder, Jim—you lost me a long time back.”

  “Right, sorry. Try this. There are various kinds of units in physics. A photon is a unit of light energy and an electron is a unit of electric energy. Okay?”

  “Great. With you so far.”

  “A graviton is a unit of gravity and a tachyon a unit of time.”

  “Lost me again. I thought minutes and seconds were units of time?”

  “They are, Floyd, but just to simple people like you and I. Physicists tend to look at things in a different manner.”

  “I believe it. Sorry I asked. Time for a break, five minutes in every hour.”

  “You’re on.” I unstuck my canteen and took a swig, then whistled to our dogtrotting terminal that was almost out of sight. “Come back Fido, breakies.”

  “You’re the boss,” Aida said. The dog scrambled back, barked and sniffed my pack where I had dropped it next to me on the ground.

  “Not too much realism!” I shouted. “Don’t have that plastic canine lift
its leg on my pack!”

  The day went on like that. Apparently forever. We crawled across the landscape: the sun crawled across the sky. When we had been walking for over five hours fatigue began to strike. Floyd was striding ahead at a great pace.

  “Tired yet?” I called out.

  “No. Great fun.”

  “To those of us who weren’t bashed about by the red peril.”

  “Just a bit more.”

  The bit more went on a bit more than I appreciated and I was just about to toss in the towel when Fido spoke.

  “Bow and wow, gentlemen. Just detected a couple of tachyons as they went whizzing by. Wasn’t sure of the first one but—there it is, another—and another!”

  “Coming from where?” I asked.

  “Directly ahead. Let’s just stay on this course and we’ll track the source down. With, perhaps, yes I’m sure, there is the strong possibility of a course deviation later.”

  “Aha!” I aha’ed. “I recognize equivocation when I hear it. Even from a plastic dog mouthpiece for an ancient ship’s computer.”

  “The word ancient is so hurtful …”

  “I’ll apologize when you tell me about this complication.”

  “Apology accepted. Allowing for the curvature of the planet, gravitic anomalies and other factors, I am still forced to believe that the tachyon source is not on the surface of this world.”

  “The thing is underground?”

  “Underground is the very word for it.”

  I bit hard on the jawphone. “Tremearne, would you put the admiral on the line.”

  “I’m here, Jim. Aida reported this possibility a while back and I have been monitoring developments since then. Didn ‘t want to bother you, for all the obvious reasons.”

  “Yes, like we forgot to bring a shovel. Anything else you haven’t told me?”