The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted

by Harry Harrison

  I dived for him hands outstretched. He pushed Stirner against me and lashed the pistol barrel across my head, aimed it at me, tightened his finger on the trigger.

  "Are you volunteering, diGriz? Good. Then you shall be first."

  A shadow drifted across the square and an amplified voice boomed against our eardrums. "The war is over. Lower your weapons."

  Filling the sky was the biggest spacer I had ever seen, bristling with guns-and all pointed down at Zennor's troops.

  The Navy had arrived! But a little too late.

  "Never!" Zennor cried. "Gunners, fire! Kill the captives! Shoot down that ship!"

  Nor was I forgotten. He ground the pistol barrel into my temple and pulled the trigger. The gun did not fire.

  I saw his knuckle whiten with the strain-but the trigger would not move. His face went ashen as he realized what was happening. I lashed out and knocked the pistol aside.

  Then, from way down on the ground, I brought up a punch that I think I had been saving for all of my life. Up, faster and faster it went, until my fist caught him full on the jaw. Lifted him into the air, dropped him unconscious to the ground. I rubbed my sore knuckles and realized that I was grinning like a fool.

  "Your weapons will not work!" the voice from the sky boomed once again, and even through the echoes and distortion I recognized Captain Varod. "This ship is projecting an entropy field that does not permit metal to move against metal or electrons to flow. It does not affect life forms. Therefore if you good citizens of Chojecki would be so kind as to disarm these invaders I would be immensely grateful."

  There was the quick thudding of running feet as a number of deserters got there first. The sight of officerial black eyes and bloody noncommissioned noses was a pleasant one. A hatch opened in the ship above and a familiar uniformed figure dropped down on the end of a line. I felt a hand on my arm and turned to look into Neebe's gorgeous, smiling face.

  "Then it is all over, Jim?"

  "It is-and it has a happy ending as well."

  "What will happen now?"

  "The invaders will go and will never come back. Your planet will be your own again. Peace will prevail here forever."

  "Will you be leaving too?"

  My heart gave a couple of rapid hammer beats and I squeezed her arm and prepared to drown in those eyes. Then I surfaced and shook myself off.

  "I don't know . . . not true. I do know. As great as the attractions are here," I squeezed the hand of the greatest attraction, "in the long run I would not be happy. Nor would those about me. Your planet, if you will excuse me saying so, is a little too quiet for me. Paradise is fine for a while, but I would not like to make a habit out of it. There are a lot more worlds out there that I haven't seen yet. The galaxy is a very big place. It hurts to say it, but I must move on."

  "Stay on this world, Jim," Varod advised as he walked up behind me. "Because if you leave here you will find out that justice and a jail term await you on a certain planet."

  "That's what you say, Varod, that's what you say!" I spun about and shook a very angry finger in his face. "You lied to me, tricked me into coming here-then ignored my FTL message and left me here to rot, almost got me and about half of the planet killed . . ."

  "Never! We were in orbit all of the time, watching everything. As soon as we arrived we had Zennor bugged completely with undetectable bugs. We were here two days after you sent the FTL message. Well done."

  "Two days? Bugs? That's impossible. Mark Forer would have known about them."

  "It did. We have been in constant consultation with that great intelligence. It has been of great help."

  "Are you telling me that Mark Forer lied to me-just like you?"

  "Yes."

  I opened and shut my mouth and ran it all through again. "Why . . . I mean why hang around and run the risk of things getting out of hand when you could have landed at once?"

  "We had to wait until after the elections," he said with infuriating amiability. "We had done everything we could to get Zennor off of his home planet as quickly as possible. Planted all those radio-broadcasting bugs so he would know that he was being watched. We worked on his paranoia, in the hopes that he would stay out of contact with his home base until it was too late. You were very good at causing trouble for him here. I must congratulate you on that. It gave him no time at all to even consider contacting his base. That was very important to us. Once Zennor left on his interplanetary adventure-as we hoped he would-it was possible to stage a little coup d'etat in Nevenkebia. The civilians were more than weary of the endless state of emergency. A palace revolution quickly got rid of the military. A civil government has been elected and peace will prevail from now on. This disarmed army will return and be absorbed in the populace."

  "You played me for a patsy," I said, with some warmth.

  "I don't know the term, but I assume that it means we took unfair advantage of you and let you do our dirty work for us."

  "That will do until a better description comes along. Well-didn't you?"

  "Not at all. You became involved in this matter for your own reasons. If we had not watched you and come to your aid you would be dead right now."

  Very hard to argue with that. And I had come here of my own accord. I looked down at the prostrate form and resisted the strong desire to kick in a couple of ribs.

  "What about Zennor here?"

  "Zennor is a sickie and will get the proper treatment in a hospital that specializes in people with problems like his. As of this moment he no longer exists."

  "And what about me?"

  "You would be wise to stay right where you are now. Escaped prisoner, conviction still pending-"

  "Don't shoot me that line of old cagal," I sneered. "I am an undercover operative of the League Navy and will be treated as such. I was responsible for your locating this planet and have suffered in the name of League justice. I have even made financial arrangements on your behalf..."

  "Yes, the soldier you promised the credits to, for aiding you. The voice-actuated recorder in the spybird caught your conversation with him. Aspya will be paid."

  "Then so will I. Full salary for all the time I have been working for you. Right?"

  He rubbed his jaw and scowled. "I suppose that you will be asking for a full pardon for crimes committed on Bit 0' Heaven?"

  "No. I just want that incident wiped completely from my record so I can walk forth a free man. With my back pay in my pocket."

  "I agree. As long as you remain in the Navy employ. Although a bit impetuous, you make a good field agent . . ."

  "Never!" I shouted, shying back and neighing like a horse. "Never! Work for the law? Pay taxes and look forward to a miserable pension in my old age? Death before dishonor! Pay up and wave bye-bye, captain. I have my own career priorities."

  "Like following a life of crime?"

  "That is different. In all truth I can promise you-never again!" I placed one hand over my heart and raised the other palm outward. "I have learned my lesson. I hereby forswear any interest in a life of crime and pledge my word to be a productive member of society forever after."

  "Good, my boy, good. I'll take care of the money for you then. The likes of you don't belong in crime."

  "No sir, they don't!" I said.

  Lying again, lying and smiling and lying through my teeth. After all-1 had some good examples to follow, When a full captain in the League Navy lies to you, when the greatest artificial intelligence in the known galaxy lies to you-should a simple ex-porcuswine swineherd be forced to tell the truth?

  My throat was dry and I suddenly felt a great yearning for some of that four-hundred-year-old wine. I looked forward to raising a glass of it very soon. Raising it in a toast.

  To my future career out there among the stars. I could almost taste that wine upon my lips and I smacked them dryly, turned to face Neebe and Stirner.

  "My friends-this calls for a celebration. Come with me, I beg you. I know of a very exclusive drinking establishment
not too far away from here."

  EPILOGUE

  "This is undoubtedly," Stirner said, eyes wet with emotion, "the very best glass of wine I have drunk, ever thought of drinking, managed to drink, ever drank, will ever drink, ever imagined that I some day might have considered drinking . . ."

  "While your grip on syntax seems to be failing," Mark Forer said, "I appreciate the emotion. Now that you have all tasted the wine, I am much cheered that you enjoy it, I would like to propose a toast. To James diGriz, planet saver. We shall be ever grateful, Jim."

  "Ever grateful!" they chorused, raised their glasses and drank. Except for Mark, who had no glass to raise. Instead of drinking wine he had one of his robots pour a dollop of electrolytic fluid into a dry battery; Mark had informed us that the sudden surge of electrons was most stimulating.

  "Thank you, my friends, thank you," I said, then raised my glass in turn. "To Morton and Sharia, who sit on the couch beside you, holding hands and blushing because they are soon to be married."

  They all cheered and drank at that; Mark Forer giggled over his zippy electrons. I raised my glass again.

  "A toast of thanks as well to my physical guide and intellectual mentor, Stirner, And to my companion in adventure, Neebe—long may her bicycle roll." More cheers and glugging followed as I turned to the glowing machine before us.

  "Last—and certainly—not least, to Mark Forer. Guide, teacher, spiritual leader, purveyor of fine wines. To Mark!" When the cheering had died away, and another bottle had been cracked, Mark Forer spoke to his attentive audience.

  "Thank you, thank you dear believers in Individual Mutualism. Too long have I been sholitary . . ." Sholitary? This mean machine was getting pissed on whizzing electrons! Drunk!

  ". . . too long a lurker beneath the streets watching the passing parade passing above me. Now, at last, finally I welcome your dear company and I greet you. And we had better crack another case of wine."

  Stirner staggered off to fetch it and Neebe went to help. Alone for the moment Morton and Sharia wrapped themselves in happy osculatory embrace. Mark was muttering to himself.

  This was the perfect opportunity to slip away. I hated good-byes. Quietly, so as not to disturb them, I rose and made my exit. As I slowly eased shut the door behind me I saw Mark's TV pickup swivel to face me; the diaphragm contracted and dilated quickly in an electronic wink. I winked back and closed the door, turned and slowly climbed the stairs.

  As much as I liked this planet and its politically monomaniacal citizens, I knew it was not for me. Too civilized and peaceful. Without crime and without police— what would I do for a living?

  Go, Jim, go! The stars are yours!